Everything... Sucks

First, let me apologize to all you faithful readers; I haven't had time to post very much to this blog lately. It turns out that being a baby is pretty much a full time job.

Lately, I've been spending a lot of time and energy on one VERY important thing. Sucking. This is a pleasure that took me some time to fully appreciate. But slowly I've come to realize that it's really fun, very accessible, and it requires almost no preparation.

Now I'm not talking about eating, which is sucking with a very specific purpose. I'm talking about pure, recreational sucking.

I started out with my fist, my knuckles, my sleeve, any part of mom or dad -- whatever was handy. (No, that's not a pun, babies don't do puns). And while I liked my pinky, what really worked for me was -- the Binky. It has a delicate, crisp taste that's lush, yet somehow not too cloying; its texture is wholesome and inviting -- Binky rivals some of the world's finest pinot noir.

But mom and dad can be a bit stingy with the Binky, and for some reason they refuse to sit next to me constantly to prevent me from dropping it, or reinsert when necessary. But that turned out to be okay, because I soon discovered something that may be better than the big B, if that's possible: my thumb. It's always there for me, I almost never drop it, and it has a feel like nothing else. If only it were a little bigger, it would be the perfect accessory.

I've tried to convince mom and dad that they should try this sucking thing themselves, but big people have something against sucking. In fact, if something is bad, they say "that sucks!" (Usually I come back with "Oh yeah? Let me try it!") Like most things big people say, that's kind of hard to understand, especially when you think about the fact that everyone sucks, at least a some point in their life. Turns out, it's not so bad to suck.

I'd Like To Thank The Academy...

You all know that I'm not one to toot my own horn (in fact, I don't even own a horn yet), but I have to invite you to come see my new short film, "First Bath". You can link to it from my Web page (www.gerryclark.com/Samantha), or you can get to it directly from one of these links:
AVI version (Windows): http://www.gerryclark.com/Samantha/movies/FirstBath.avi
QuickTime version (Mac/Windows): http://www.gerryclark.com/Samantha/movies/FirstBath.mov
The movie was actually shot some time ago, but we've been working hard on it in post production. Frankly, the biggest problem was the studio -- we argued back and forth for weeks over the final cut. Finally, I had to put my foot down. Unfortunately, that didn't have much of an impact, since my feet are rather small. Then I used my secret weapon. I won't tell you what that weapon is, but I will tell you that you can see it on display in the movie. And when I use it, I ALWAYS get my way. Just ask my mom and dad...
The film is shot in that raw, cinema verite style that is so popular on the indie film circuit these days. The script, lighting and special effects are all top notch, but the best thing about the movie is my performance. I don't want to spoil it for you, but I will tell you this -- everything you see me doing in there is acting. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I love taking baths. But somehow I was able to capture the pathos, the sorrow, the sheer tragedy that is Bath Time. I'm sure you'll agree that it's some of my best work yet.

Winnie The What?

I see him everywhere -- on my clothes, my blanket, even my diapers! He's cute and looks kind of cuddly, especially for a bear. After seeing his face for weeks, haunting me at every turn, I finally had to ask my dad: who is this ubiquitous cartoon character?
"Winnie The Pooh", he said.
"Excuse me?, I asked, confused. Sometimes big people have trouble saying what they really mean.
"Winnie The Pooh", he repeated.
The surprising thing to me is that he said it as if it was a completely normal name. Like "Mikey The Pee" or "Eddie the Spit-up". The bear is named after, well, poo! I can only imagine the trouble he must have had in grade school. The other bears are not gonna let a name like that go by without having some fun.
And yet, somehow, despite his unfortunate name, Winnie has gone on to become a superstar, at least in the baby world -- which of course is the only world that really counts. It must have been determination, drive, and a lot of hard work that made him so successful. I'll even forgive him for his sad and unnatural addiction to honey.
All I can say is -- my hats off to you, Mr. Poo! (My diaper too...)

The Joy of Crying

Sometimes it's hard to talk to Mom and Dad. I want to let them know when I'm uncomfortable, when I'm unhappy, and when I'm in need. Really, I'm not that needy: food, sleep, a dry bottom, a change of position, and sometimes just a hug. I tried special sounds for each of these, but somehow I just couldn't find the right words to tell them how I feel. (Hello! Not my fault, I haven't learned words yet!)
No matter how patient I was with Mom and Dad, they just didn't get it! Then I discovered something magical, something universal, something to help me bridge this communication gap -- crying. Okay, so it's not brilliant conversation. But when I cry, they get moving! And maybe they don't always get it at first, but they do go down my list. Eventually, they figure what I want. (Hint: try food first.) What's even better, the louder I cry, the faster they try! Now that's what I call service.
I admit, this isn't the best way to communicate. It's a lot of work for me (not to mention all that extra air I take in). But it seems to work for them, so I guess I'll make the sacrifice. Or maybe I could train them on hand gestures...

More Pictures

My latest photo gallery: http://www.gerryclark.com/Samantha/volume2/index.htm.

Baby Talk

You big people have a lot going for you. But I have to ask you this -- what's with the baby talk? Do you have ANY idea how ridiculous you sound with the "pooky-pooky-pooky" nonsense?
Now I know there are studies that show that babies like me prefer the baby talk over regular adult conversations. And that's true, we do prefer it. But do you know WHY we prefer baby talk? Because it makes YOU sound so silly! There's not much that someone my age (one month and two days) can control about her life. What I eat, where I sleep -- even how I sit -- that's all up to you big people. But when it comes to baby talk, I've got the power. Spend a few minutes with me, and you're babbling like an idiot. And that makes me happy!

Is This Normal?

My parents seem to be pretty good people (although I don't know that many people, so I can't really be sure). But there's one thing about them that is -- well, frankly, strange. They have this obsession with my poop.
All day, and all night, that's all they want to know about. How's your diaper? Did you poop? Was it a big poop or a little one? As soon as I go, there's mom or dad, ready to get rid of it. It's like they have some sort of poop collection, or something. Can you imagine how strange it would be if one of your friends wanted all the details of your bodily functions? You probably wouldn't spend too much time with him. Anything to avoid those awkward "I gotta go to the bathroom" moments.
Nonetheless, I do what I can to make mom and dad happy. I do my business five, six, sometimes seven times a day. Sometimes I poop even when I don't have to, just so they'll have something to talk about.
And get this -- this is my favorite: every so often I'll poop, then as soon as they change my diaper, I'll poop again! A two-for-one deal -- what could be better?

It's A Fashion Thing?

Okay, here's another crazy thing about this world -- the clothes. I mean, I barely go out of the house, and I have more "cute outfits" than mom and dad combined!
What's worse, I rarely get to wear them. Instead, I keep getting these white T-shirt things (something called a "onsie" -- who came up with that name?). Functional -- yes. Fashionable -- hardly.
Worst of all, mom and dad keep changing my clothes! Seriously, I've had more wardrobe changes than a Cher concert (whoever that is). First it's on with the onsie, then on with my gown. As soon as it gets a little wet (don't blame me for that), it's off with the gown, and off with the onsie. Then, a new onsie, and another outfit on top of that. All I can say is, I'm glad I've got "people" to take care of my laundry.

My Life So Far

These past 26 days have been strange, to say the least.
I have to say, this place is very confusing.
For one thing, there's the whole eating-sleeping thing. First mom and dad want me to eat -- sometimes they wake me up just to give me food. Then, when I'm awake, they want me to go to sleep. I wish they'd make up their minds! Parents - huh, go figure. It may be a while before I get them properly trained.
Another strange thing is my weight - I lost weight right after being born. I have to say, the other babies were a bit jealous -- I could eat anything I wanted, as much as I wanted, and still lose weight. And that's without any "South Beach Diet" or "Zone Diet" to help me stay trim.
And you know the weird part -- Mom and Dad were worried about me losing weight, so they kept feeding me. Every time I turned around, there was another bottle in my mouth.
One of the best things about my life right now is the fact that I have this whole entourage of people who are there just to take care of me. Mom, Dad, Grandma, they're all sitting around, waiting for me to do whatever. Food, sleep, entertainment -- all I have to do is ask, and they jump up and run around trying to get me to react. I wonder if will always be this way?

Too Soon?

Some people have wondered about a three-week old baby having a blog. All I can say is -- sorry it took me so long! This is, after all 2006. And born into the digital age, it's my right -- no, it's my duty to get online. So, here I am.

In case you missed it, I have some pictures of me up on the Web. I hope you don't think I'm being too vain; I just thought you might like to see what your author looks like. As of now, there are two galleries:
http://www.gerryclark.com/Samantha/newborn/index.html
This one shows me when I was just a few minutes old -- ah the good old days. It seems like just yesterday... actually it was 26 days ago. There's a picture of my mom there too.
Hey look closely at that picture of me -- what's the deal with those fingernails? They look more like claws! Truth is, it's so hard to find a good manicurist in utero...

This second photo gallery shows more of me:
http://www.gerryclark.com/Samantha/volume1/index.htm
It also shows my dad and grandma.

Hello world, this is Sami.

Actually, my full name is Samantha Si-Ming Clark. I was born on March 2, 2006 in Los Angeles, California. Sorry it took me so long to get online, but my dad (who is typing this for me) has been kind of busy.
Anyway, this will be the place where I tell you about me, my life, etc. I have to go now, but come back soon and I'll tell you more!