When I moved into my neighborhood with my wife, our first real house, there were many surprises for us. Many, that as children, we probably never noticed or even considered about a neighborhood and the people who call them homes.
- The almost-naked neighbor who walks around almost every day in front of his window. (I have spoken to him quite a few times and I still have yet to hint, “You know, windows do go both ways.”)
- The neighbor who seems to need a joint each evening at around 9 PM to calm down (that is the house with the raccoons in the backyard. I like to assume those raccoons are very, very chill… and then raid our trash for munchies).
- The neighbor with no furniture in his living room. Not a single freaking chair. (This will probably be our serial killer, which we all will tell the documentary filmmakers someday: “I don’t know, he really kept to himself…”)
Then there is the arguing. It is like carolers during the holidays, except it doesn’t follow a specific calendar. Every house gets them visiting at some point or another. They build into a chorus, voices reaching new heights together (both volume and octave) and then like a song, ends. The silence is always the hardest part when you hear it from the outside, for you know that is when the crying is probably going on.
The most we seem to say to each other, even though we spend so much time so close, are the lawn signs.
We put our hopes on display, declaring to those who might care what we find important or what we might need. But even those seem to deteriorate in time, like jack o’lanterns three days after Halloween.
The thing that impacts and shocks me the most are the estate sale signs. Continue reading
Okay, let’s get this out of the way first. I’m not sure what I think about the new Doctor on Doctor Who.
Yes, I get why they cast Peter Capaldi, he is in an interesting choice with a vibe very different from Matt Smith and David Tennant. It’s a fresh choice. (I’m still not a fan of Clara, but really it would be hard for anyone to follow Amy, Rory, and River. It’s a pretty high bar.)
This maybe all because I thought the direction of the first two episodes felt off. A lot of people were excited to have Ben Wheatley direct the first two episodes (again a fresh choice), but there is a certain “buy in” that I didn’t feel in those two episodes. It almost (and this may seem cruel) felt like a fan’s version of Doctor Who, not truly capturing the spirit and energy of the show.
It was Doctor Who, it just didn’t feel like Doctor Who.
Oh, who knows? Maybe I am just bitter since Matt Smith is off the show and he was in many ways my Doctor. In a few episodes I might be singing a different tune (and I have no problem admitting when I am wrong).
You know, whatever happens, even if I get so out of it that I walk away from the show for a few seasons, it doesn’t mean I stop being a Doctor Who fan. I will still rewatch the seasons I love. For example, I still consider myself a Star Trek fan, even though I didn’t watch a single episode of Enterprise (did you hear that theme song?) and I thought the last film contradicted a lot of Star Trek norms (like, for example, remember when it was a big deal when Voyager could land on a planet? I guess the Enterprise could do that decades earlier.).
Let’s move on to more pleasant stuff than my possible science-fiction nerd disappointment. Here are five things for September. Continue reading
Whenever I have a sore throat I like to imagine that I sound like Harrison Ford. Not current-day Harrison, no, I’m talking classic Harrison. You know that moment in The Raiders of the Lost Ark when he looks right at the camera (Marion Ravenwood) and says “Trust me.”
Right there! That is my sore throat voice!
Of course, this is complete poppycock. I just sound like myself, but more nasally and rough.
I always expect more of my voice. I assume it can sound smooth, I also assume I can sing. Both things proven wrong many, many times. Yet, there is a chance if you drive alongside me you might see me singing in my car. I actually got in an accident once driving and singing to They Might Be Giants. I kid you not! And, forever after that, you could hear the moment of the accident in the tape. It is like a hiccup. That tape hiccup was my life flashing before my eyes.
Whatever the case, I have a little bit of a cold today. I’ll be fine, and I’ll spend the rest of my day happily imagining I have the world to save from Nazis.
Here is my list of the five awesome things I am into right now. This is a great list. Trust me. Continue reading
My clock has switched.
I’m not sure how this happened, but everything is upside down and it is the new norm I have to accept. I’m Alice in a world where the ceiling is now the floor, and that is just how reality will have to be. We are all mad here.
Let me explain this better: When you are young you are always counting up to experiences.
- When I am 16, I will learn to drive a car.
- When I am 18, I graduate and go to college.
- When I am 21, I can drink (well, I don’t like alcohol very much, so I watch my friends drink…. I just have never liked the taste or smell of beer or wine. Okay, I do admit I drink a little but the stuff I do enjoy, the mixes, usually involve chocolate or fruity flavors and they can come in glasses that some would find embarrassing. Well, just the color would be embarrassing for many to be near. So I keep to the soda when I am out in public, because I like to believe I have a certain swagger in my step and a coolness that I aim to keep, and the fruity drinks don’t help).
More counting! Then there is a wedding… and a house…the first baby… and a second… And suddenly, right there, when you have reached your limit on kids, and they begin to age out of diapers and clothes… everything turns.
It’s like in one of those cartoons from the 1940’s where the clocks have a face and the hands are attached to the nose and they spin in a strange fashion. Well, that is my internal clock, and now with 40 fast approaching, I feel the face’s confusion.
I have begun counting down to things… The outcome at the end, I don’t want to even imagine.
(I need a break, just a second. I have a soda around here someplace.) Continue reading
I’ve been doing this blog for over a year now, but this is the very first time I’ve taken a request.
See, last week I did two pieces about being a nerd, humourously claiming the title another blogger decided to put on me. And in one of those pieces I made a comment about SyFy’s new Battlestar Galactica (the most recent version, not the old one I will reference below), even hinting at the idea of writing a blog entry about the show.
It was supposed to be a joke, nothing I was really planning to do; yet, I received numerous requests in comments and over twitter to do it. As @Safireblade commented:
“Well, get to work on the Battlestar Galactica post… Chop chop!”
How could I say no to that? But I have to admit this is a tricky thing for me to do. Just ask a film critic and they will understand- is it easier to write a bad review or a good review? See, as a lover of storytelling, the idea of breaking down what I consider almost a perfect show feels a little… well… sacrilegious. Continue reading
Dear How I Met Your Mother,
I really wish I didn’t have to write this letter, but after your season finale I felt I had to say something… Okay, I am beginning this all wrong. Let me try again-
Do you remember when we first met? What a wonderful and magical summer that was!
My wife and I discovered you during the end of your third season and over the summer we rented your two first seasons, watching them back to back and even a second time. We would talk about you all the time. You were recommended to friends.
We laughed at all your jokes, even the bad ones, we could not get enough of your company! You were an additional guest at our table; and while I quietly thought the first season was a little weak, I brushed it off since I enjoyed your visits so much. Continue reading