Those of you who’ve known me for a long time, know that everything changed after that.

I never really thought of myself as an adult, as a grownup, until my father died. I had just gotten married a few weeks before he passed, but even that act of commitment didn’t change that perspective. Helping to choose your father’s coffin? That’s adult.

I’ve said quite a bit about my father over these past eight years, and what I’m trying to come to terms with now is how his death has changed me, as well as changed my family. My mother, to this day, has no idea what to do with herself. She has not gotten over it. I think her grief is as fresh as the day it happened, and as much as she tries to fill up the empty space, it’s not going away. She has stopped going to therapy, and we can’t convince her to go back.

As for me, I just miss my father’s presence. To this day, I still think of things I’d love to share with him — not monumental things, just little everyday things — and it pains me that I can’t. And, of course, it kills me that he hasn’t met Rob. I know they would have gotten along so well.

I’m having a particularly hard time with my father’s death this year, and I think some of that is because of the wedding. My father wasn’t there when I divorced M, and that was okay…but this was the first big joyous occasion for me, for us, and he wasn’t there to be a part of that.

It’s hard, too, because when he first passed away, I felt comforted when I went to the cemetery. I still felt some kind of connection. Eight years on, I don’t. I’m not even completely sure I should be doing this anymore. And yet, there’s a part of me that thinks, “Suppose he knows? And suppose he’s hurt that I’ve stopped going?” Which, I know, is kind of nuts, but that’s pretty much where I’m at.

I’m keeping this brief — I have much more to say, but I need to catch the bus out to Long Island. I’m just thinking of my father today, and I’m sad and tired. I simply wish he was here.

“Shoehorn” — the images in the television didn’t come out quite right…the edges of the TV are too pixelated. This isn’t a Flash issue, either, something was just not going right…I couldn’t get a clean mask. So grrrrr! I also have some things to learn about getting things into Flash — the monsters look crisp and clean, the background’s anti-aliasing. I’d done it as an 800 x 600 TIFF, but something’s up. The monsters, in the meantime, I’d exported as a SWF file and they look great. Hrm!

Also, please note — the illustrations are NOT mine; I purchased vector files from iStockphoto. :) I do have plans in mind for a little cartoon robot, but that would take way more time than I had today…or even this week.

Photo gallery — pics I’d taken on our trip to Los Angeles last year. Some of you may recognize those cupcakes. ;)

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My Flash class assignment is due tomorrow, and I’m trying to figure out how I want to do this. I need to take a song, take some characters, and animate them singing the song. But the question is, what song? And what characters?

I’d originally thought I’d do the “Mighty Mouse” theme song (”Here I come to save the DAAAAYYYYY!”), but the more I think about it, the more that might not work. If I go that route, I’ll feel a pressure to make it funny. Can’t have just anyone singing the chorus! I was thinking about some cute monsters singing the verses, then Barack Obama’s head floating through to sing the chorus, but that’s only going to be funny once. The chorus repeats at least three times in the song, so I’d need to work up to Obama. Maybe He-Man for the first round, erm…something else for the second, and then Obama for the climax?

My other option is to go totally random and do They Might Be Giants’ “Shoehorn with Teeth.” It’s a happy little ditty about someone who wants a “shoehorn with teeth, ’cause he knows there’s no such thing.” :D La de la….might be easier to animate, and it’s about 13 seconds shorter, hmmmmm……

Work has gotten better. I spoke with my manager about not being used as a resource and not being involved in things…so that’s undergone a dramatic reversal. Be careful of what you wish for, though, ’cause I’m now in a TON of meetings, up from…nothing. That’s okay, though, I’ll take it. I’d rather be booked all day than find out about things after the fact. I’m still not committed enough to stay — I’ve been here 12 years, I think it’s time — but at least I can do good work while I’m still here, and I’m happier, too.

R and I have been running all over the place. Between class, raiding, and concerts I had somewhere to be every night this past week. A little much! Happily, there’s no class this week (thanks, Jewish Holidays!), and nothing happening Wednesday, so that balances things out a bit.

To get an idea of how crazy it’s been, in the past two weeks we’ve seen friends four times (five for R), seen Dada clowns, seen frickin’ hysterical improv, caught Weezer ( =W= ) at Madison Square Garden, started talking about moving to a new apartment, and I started my Flash/Actionscript class. (Oh, and I found a new Space Invader on Saturday night, in Soho. w00t!)

My father’s birthday was in there, too. It’s been almost eight years since he died. Hard to believe that much time has passed, hard to believe that so MUCH has changed for me in that time. If my Dad came back even for one day right now? Today? He’d have no idea where I lived, he wouldn’t know anything about who I’m married to, and he’d probably only know 50% of my friends, if that. Scary.

Anyway, all of the above, plus the work whirl, has made for one tired me. I was so out of it in my last Flash class (goes from 6:00-10:00 pm) that around 9:30, I just sat, staring at this. Just…staring. One would have thought I was drunk, or worse — but alas, I was just tired. And it was only Monday night…but hey…that’s one of my first pieces of Flash.

My homework for next Monday is to take a little animated guy and have him do things. Since my teacher’s constantly joking that all Flash pieces MUST be accompanied by bad techno, I think it’s going to be “animated dude vs. techno” and do a three-minute magnum opus. We’ll see…

Today’s weather is eerily like that beautiful September day. There’s still a huge gaping hole where the Towers used to be — I can’t believe that we still don’t have a memorial. Everything changed, but then nothing has changed. If I sound bleak, it’s because I am.

This is what I wrote a few days after the Towers came down. The pictures are of the Lexington Avenue Armory, which was the original “missing persons” center for the first few days after the attacks. This is for those that were lost.

9.18.01: the wall

I was in an okay mood as I walked to school this evening. I was excited and a little nervous about starting class; I was supposed to have started last Tuesday, but we all know what happened then.

I was walking from Park Avenue over to Lexington Avenue when I saw some handwritten signs upon the ground. As I got closer, I saw that they were more than signs; they were signs, paintings, candles, flowers — all about those who were missing from the World Trade Center attacks. I found it sad, and tender. I also found it extremely curious, that these things should be here, on a nondescript street, practically in the middle of the sidewalk.

I turned the corner onto Lexington Avenue.

faces
faces
faces
faces

“Missing” posters were everywhere — plastered thick upon the walls, crammed on every available space.

missing
lost
searching
help us
help them

It was the armory, the 69th Regiment Armory, the one that had been serving as a clearinghouse for families of the missing. They only moved to a larger location yesterday, across the city, and the posters were still here.

mommy
daddy
sister
son
father
husband
daughter

I’d seen it on the news, of course — some reporter called it the “Wall of Hope” as the posters began to go up. I didn’t realize that it would be on my way to school. I wasn’t prepared to see this. I mean, I’ve been seeing “missing” posters all over the city, but not like this. Nothing like this.

age 32
age 56
age 24
age 47
age 21


It is a grouping of the missing — hundreds and hundreds of posters, for three city blocks straight, on both sides of the street. Where there aren’t posters there are messages, where there aren’t messages, there are prayers. You cannot just stroll by, because that is blasphemous. That is disrespectful. These people are missing and most are probably dead and you must acknowledge that, must acknowledge their loss and the loss of their families and friends.

last seen wearing red shirt
last seen wearing blue jeans
has a tattoo
has a birthmark
has a Florida tan
has blonde hair
has brown hair
blue eyes
green eyes
gray eyes

When I rounded that corner, I stopped and could only stare because I was unprepared for the reality of this. It is very easy to be horrified at the thought of 5,400 missing, yet very difficult to visualize exactly what that means. Is that a concert hall full of people? A football stadium? Just how many is that, exactly?

Seeing entire streets full of pleas, requests, each face attached to a history and a family who loves them — that is something completely and utterly different.

come home
help them come home
come home to us
please come home
please

As you may have noticed, there’s been some template changes around here. I’m doing a fast test post to check things out. :) Your regularly-scheduled Cake will resume shortly; in the meantime, enjoy this shot of the Maritime Hotel, downtown NYC.