Sucker Punch and Battle Los Angeles (there be minor spoilers ahead)

Today was a rare convergence. It's my Spring Break, and it's one of my wife's regular days off, so we went to the movies. There were two movies out that we wanted to see, so we decided to see them both in one day. The first was one of the worst movies I've ever seen, and the second was, if not one of the best, certainly belongs in my top twenty. The first one we saw was Sucker Punch.

The title is pretty much how I felt when the end credits finally rolled. I have seen worse movies, but not many, and even fewer with the budget of this cinematic wankfest. I kept picturing the writer of the film being a 16 year old white virgin who watches only Quentin Tarantino films and plays video games. I picture a be-zitted introvert with a collection of fake Samurai weapons who thinks he wails with his 'chucks', and aside from his matronly mother has never spoken with a woman beyond a squeaky voiced order to the lunch lady. All of the women in Sucker Punch dress like they're getting ready for a Vegas fetish party, and the camera is frequently positioned just below and behind their fishnet bedecked butts. And even when we are in the video game-esque fantasy sequences there are more crotch shots than in a gynecological training film. And all of this adolescent objectification is wrapped in a story of such powerlessness and cruelty that you quickly wonder just what the fuck is the point. There is no real message, other than a schmaltzy voice over claiming that only you can prevent forest fires, or some other cheesy bullshit. To be honest I really didn't give a shit about anyone or anything by the end of this craptacular waste of money, time, and talent. Visually it's interesting, but not Watchmen or 300 interesting, and the worlds within worlds thing was hackneyed, ham fisted, and about as subtle and interesting as listening to a lecture on hemorrhoidal treatment. I have enjoyed many of Zack Snyder's offerings before, but this one will, I hope, quickly fade from my memory like a root canal that outlasted the Novocaine.

On the other side of the ledger we have Battle Los Angeles. Now this is how an alien invasion film should be made. The plot isn't complicated, aliens invade Earth and we follow a group of US Marines as they attempt to rescue some civilians in Los Angeles. The movie hits the ground running, and after a minimum of exposition to tell you who the leading players are, all Hell breaks loose and the action doesn't really let up for the next 110 minutes or so. The performances are spot on, the dialogue snappy and believable, the effects perfectly suited to the feel of the movie, and the ending does not feel one bit contrived. The pace is fast, but not so fast as to lose the audience, and it even manages to twang a heart string or two. I've heard folks criticize it for its lack of comic relief, but I never felt that. Whereas Sucker Punch had me checking my watch within thirty minutes, Battle Los Angeles flew by, and even though there is the inevitable comparison to Aliens to be wrestled with, I think this movie holds up quite well in that respect. It was well written, well acted, and very well edited, and I suspect I'll own the bluray once it comes out.

I will say this for these two films; I feel no need to equivocate on them. Sucker Punch is utter crap, and Battle Los Angeles is fantastic.

In my opinion, of course. Your actual mileage may vary.

;-)

Marius

Henry Rollins on Selling Out

NSFW language, but I've never heard this put better.

USITT Lament Update

So the initial response I received from my email of dissatisfaction was a politely worded version of 'Gee, sorry it sucked for you, but we'll see you next year, right?' About what I expected. Then, yesterday, in the midst of the craziness of playing catch-up I got another email from the man who books the workshops apologizing for the sound workshop, and saying they'll be sending me a refund for the price of the workshop. It's not much, compared to the price of the full trip, but it is a very nice gesture, and will go a long way toward my looking with a more friendly eye at next year's offerings.

There and Back Again

So, this past week was...interesting. And just so we're clear I say interesting in the 'sucked balls' sense of the word. But first we need a bit of background. Sherman, set the Way-Back machine to last November or so. *insert the flashback sound and visual effects of your choice here. I prefer the Wayne's World version*

Deedley Dee--Deedley Dee--Deedly Dee

So every year I check the United States Institute for Theatre Technology website to see what sorts of classes will be offered at their annual conference. If the offerings seem useful, as they almost always are, then my school sends me there to get me some larnin'. This year the pickings were kind of slim, but one workshop stood out. Basic Sound System Design and Optimization. Now many people think that the stuff I do with lights is esoteric and difficult to understand(stop giggling, Deb), but to me, anyway, lights are child's play compared to the intricacies of sound. So I jumped at the chance for some formal training that would help us to upgrade our equipment, and to learn to use it properly. So I registered for the conference (just under $500) and the workshop ($125), and started looking for hotels. Unfortunately these conferences are always held in large convention centers which are usually in the middle of cities, in this case Charlotte, North Carolina. There are any number of hotels available, but they're always expensive. The first time I went to USITT I booked a hotel that was less than $100 a night, but it was so far from the convention center that what I saved in hotel fees I spent in cab fare, so it makes sense to spend a bit more and stay within walking distance of the venue.

The conference always runs from Wednesday to Saturday, but the workshops run either on Monday, or Tuesday, or sometimes both. The sound workshop was only on Tuesday, so I booked my $150/night hotel for Monday through Friday. Then I went to book my flight. I had hoped to fly into the main airport in North Carolina, but Charlotte is two hours away from there, so I had to fly to a smaller place where only the higher profile airlines go. Granted this is not my personal money, but it does come from my department's budget, so this was really making me uncomfortable. But, if it would help us get our sound system working well, it would be worth it.

Fast forward to the end of February. An email comes to all who are in the workshop letting us know that the time of the thing was being changed; no big deal; but it also came with a more in-depth description of the class. The word 'basic', it seemed, was something of a misnomer unless you already had a degree in acoustical engineering, and I realized that my working knowledge of how to run sound systems would probably not do me much good in this class. So I contacted USITT to see if I could cancel my registration. I was informed where to send a letter, and also that there was no guarantee that I'd get a refund. So rather than lose nearly a grand all tolled I decided that surely I'd get something out of the class, and the conference is always informative...right?

Wrong! Well, mostly wrong. I was right about the class. It was essentially an infomercial for a pricey bit of proprietary software, and covered absolutely nothing about system design beyond how the software interacted with the company's amplifiers. I tried to keep up with the information the very knowledgeable gentlemen were putting forth, but it was like being an auto mechanic who was suddenly dropped into a class on the proper tuning of a nuclear reactor. I understood most of the basic concepts, but the applications they were describing were quite beyond me.

Fortunately the class was only the one day, so I went back to my expensive hotel room to chill. And I mean that literally. There was a thermostat in the room that didn't seem to do anything. Then I began to learn that in expensive hotels, rather than there being more amenities then in, say, a Motel 6, there are less. No free WiFi, no free breakfast, and the restaurant in the lobby was expensive as hell. Just as an example their weekly drink specials included $4 drafts on Thursdays. That's the special price!!

Well, Wednesday was when the conference started, but there weren't any classes I wanted to take, so I wandered the city. There is a nice science museum and IMAX there, so that was fun. Then I puttered around my room and watched TV. Thursday was better, with useful classes and the opening of the vendors show room with its requisite SWAG hunt. If you've never been to a conference like this just about every theatrical vendor, from curtains to lights to stage floors and makeup, sets up a booth to hawk their wares. Many of them give away little goodies emblazoned with their names and web sites, and we geeks live for these bits of silliness. It's kinda like trick-or-treating as you go from booth to booth seeing what you can get, be it a rubber duck, or a highly compressed tee shirt, or just a pen or key chain. There were also interesting demonstrations of new equipment and materials, and everyone had a scanner that read a bar code on your name badge so now I'm on a dozen new emailing lists...some of which I even care about.

Friday morning had the last class I needed, and then it was straight into a cab and on to the airport. The flight home was uneventful, but I have rarely been so happy to get back from a trip. All tolled I wasted nearly $500 and three days of shop time to attend a useless and misrepresented workshop when I could have flown up Wednesday and come back Friday with the same amount of useful information. I have sent an email to USITT recounting the salient points of this tale, and I shall be looking much more closely at next year's offerings, but I fear this will have to go into the 'lesson learned' category of my life rather than the 'wrongs redressed' column.

But at least I got a cool rubber ducky.

Marius the Peeved.

Microbes 10 Humans 0

Last week Mrs. Marius started coughing. The cough got worse, and worse, til finally she went to the doctor. The doctor, in a rare moment of insanity, told her she had a sinus infection (because those always make you hack up a lung every 30 seconds) and put her on antibiotics. Keep in mind that she's pregnant, which does have a negative effect on the body's immune responses at first, so I hoped I'd be spared sharing in her symptoms. Wouldn't that have been nice? No dice. By Friday I was in danger of coughing up my sternum and felt like I'd been gargling with barbed wire. So I went to the sawbones myself. Two swabs up the nose (no flu, thank Ipthar), and one bottle of very nasty antibiotics later and the weekend at Castle Marius sounds like a TB ward. I missed two days of work last week, as much out of weakness and general feelinglikecrappery as not wanting to share these lovely little viruses with my beloved and valued coworkers, so I did my best to take it as easy as possible this weekend. Saturday I felt a bit better, but my lady was worse, so she went in to the doctor again, and this time was correctly diagnosed with bronchitis. So we both spent most of the weekend doing nothing but coughing, wheezing, and expectorating. Don't you wish you were here? I did learn a few things during my convalescence, however. Firstly it seems that Law and Order has been in production since at least the late Middle Ages, and there are over 1.4 million episodes being shown in constant rotation on every known TV station. Secondly I,Robot was a much shittier movie than I remember. Thirdly, based on what I saw of the Oscars last night, Kirk Douglas died five years ago, but no one has told him yet. And lastly, don't schedule being sick at the same time as your pregnant wife. It really takes any hope you have of sympathy away.

See y'all at the morgue.

Marius the Unclean

AHHHH! ALIEN!!!!!!!

So yesterday was the first 'big day' of our current gestational activities. I met my wife at the OB/GYN office, and soon we were ushered to the ultrasound room. The technician was very friendly, and the room pleasant and dim. There was a large flat-screen tv on the wall opposite the exam table, and soon we could see the image of our baby:



The technician took readings, got measurements and heart rate, and really did her best to try and determine the sex of the little creature, but he/she kept squirming around away from the scanner. She managed to get a good look at the baby's face, however, and as you can see in the upper right picture we are apparently going to be ushering in a new era of human/alien hybridization.


I just hope the baby's alien relatives are friendly.

Tee hee.

Daddy Marius

I'm A Dork?

So here's the scenario, and to us geeks it is not an unfamiliar one. One of our graduates, B, has returned to work in the costume shop for the next few weeks. Toward the end of the day yesterday a friend of hers came into the shop. She brings him into my office, and she introduces us. We all chat for a bit, then he sees the cut-away poster of the Enterprise on my wall. His eyes light up and we start talking Trek. As we get more and more into minutiae, B's eyes roll more and more often, and then finally she utters those all-too familiar words, "You guys are such dorks!" Now I would never contradict this indictment, for it is verily truth, and I have heard it so many times in similar situations that I barely even notice it anymore. But as I was driving home something about this little tableau rose to the fore of my mind. B is an accomplished seamstress, and her current vocation involves traveling about the country on the Renn Faire circuit where she dresses in either belly dance or tavern wench attire and sells tiny catapults and trebuchets. She also makes and wears her own pirate get ups and entertains tourists down south a bit. AND she is currently working on making a fully functional mermaid tail for further use in faires and in the ocean.


Yet I'm the dork!

Miss Pot, my name is Kettle. Nice to meet you.

Tee hee.

Love ya, B.

Marius the Dorky

What is a Hero?

The word hero, like so many other handy buzzwords, has been almost drained of its meaning by the bloodless, hyperbole addicted press of today. It seems anyone who meets an untimely death is dubbed a hero. I'm sorry, but the people who died in the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001 were not heroes, although some probably were and we'll never know, they were victims.* The Chilean miners were not heroes, although the people that worked tirelessly to get them out definitely were, but you don't see any of them going to the White House. No, to me a hero is someone who consciously puts the well being and safety of others ahead of their own, and few people earn the moniker 'hero' like astronauts. Space is a very dangerous place, and getting there and back again is one of the most hazardous things a human being can do. Yet hundreds have dedicated their lives to just that. They climb into tiny, cramped tubes of aluminum, plastic, and foam, strap themselves to megatons of explosive force, and go into an environment that at any time can kill them in any number of truly terrible ways. And given how unfathomably dangerous this venture is, the US safety record is incredible. Out of the hundreds of manned space flights, including 123 shuttle launches, only 24 US astronauts died in the line of duty. Most of them are well known, since they died aboard the Challenger and the Columbia, but there are some you have probably never heard of. Pray indulge me as I take a moment on this, the 25th anniversary of the Challenger disaster, as I list these heroes:

Theodore C. Freeman
T-38 accident, October 31, 1964

Charles A. Bassett, II
Elliot M. See, Jr.
T-38 accident, February 28, 1966

Clifton C. Williams, Jr.
T-38 accident, October 5, 1967

(the T-38 is a small one or two man training jet)

Virgil "Gus" Grissom
Edward H. White, II
Roger B. Chaffee
Killed when their Apollo 1 capsule burst into flames during a ground test, January 27, 1967

Michael J. Adams
X-15 accident, November 15, 1967
(the X-15 was an experimental high speed/high altitude plane)

Robert H. Lawrence Jr.
F-104 accident, December 8, 1967

Francis "Dick" Scobee
Michael J. Smith
Judith A. Resnik
Ellison S. Onizuka
Ronald E. McNair
Gregory B. Jarvis
S. Christa McAuliffe
Killed when Challenger exploded on launch throttle up, January 28, 1986

Manley L. "Sonny" Carter, Jr.
Commercial plane accident, April 5, 1991

Rick D. Husband
William C. McCool
Michael P. Anderson
Kalpana Chawla
David M. Brown
Laurel Clark
Ilan Ramon
Killed when Columbia broke up during reentry, February 1, 2003

I won't go into why their sacrifices are not in vain, except to say that many of the technological advances that make life so comfortable, safe, and longer for you and me are directly beholding to the efforts of the people listed here. Because of them, and thousands of others like them, we enjoy a world that is cleaner, safer, healthier, and more enjoyable than would have been possible had mankind not looked up and asked, "I wonder what's out there". I honor these brave men and women today, and every day, for truly embodying the NASA motto: For the betterment of all.




*That is not meant to disparage the brave firefighters, police, and ordinary citizens who responded to the emergency and were definitely heroes.

Starbase Repairs

Hi, Folks,
Please forgive this shameless begging, but the Starbase is in dire need. My computer is having serious problems, and the time has come that we need a new one to keep the show going. Unfortunately, with a baby on the way, what little discretionary income we have is dedicated to the impending birth. To that end I have set up a donate button on our show's website Starbase66.com so folks can kick in a buck or two to help keep the show going. If you listen, and feel we are worthy of a a few sheckles, please help. No amount is too small, and every penny, after PayPal gets its cut, will go directly into the show. And if you can't, that's groovy too. We still love you. :-)

We now return you to your regularly scheduled Internet, already in progress.

Peace, y'all,
Marius

Geekling Inbound

So there is much news to report, oh amazingly patient and wonderful readers. First, and foremost, Mrs. Marius is with child!! I know I'm not supposed to say anything until the third month, and some of you will recall that back in the summer of '06 we had a pregnancy that went very wrong, but I've been bottling this up for almost three weeks now and I'm about to burst. She's about 7 weeks or so along, and there is a good heartbeat and she's quite obviously showing, and I can't imagine waiting another two months to say anything. I don't mind admitting that I'm a bit terrified. Even though I've been a step-father for 8 years now, this will be my first baby, and at my age that's a bit daunting. But I'm studying, and doing my best to prepare, so wish me luck. :-)

In other news my wife's computer, that the lovely and talented Celebhith gave us when we returned to Florida half a decade ago, finally croaked yesterday. So rather than go buy the new dresser we really need we bought a refurbished desktop at CompUSA. So I've spent a large part of last night and today loading, configuring, installing, and tweaking. It's working great for her, so her Farmville crops are safe. I am now trying to revive the old machine enough to use just for podcasting. I'm optimistic, but it might just be an exercise in futility...we'll see.

Finally I got a really groovy...well, to me anyway...book recently. If you are familiar with the Haynes series of auto repair manuals you'll find this amusing:



It's full of great pictures, diagrams, and descriptions of all the Star Trek Enterprises, and I'm really digging it. (you think my kid might grow up to be a nerd?) ;-)

Ok, that's all for today. What's up with you?

Smiles,
Marius

Love the Ones You're With

2011 was getting off to a pretty good start...then tragedy struck. Last night I received a text from a very dear friend who moved to California many years ago. J requested prayers for her mother. Her mother, whom I've also known for years, was a vibrant, energetic, and very healthy woman who rode her bicycle hundreds of miles each week, went to the gym regularly, ate well, and was the last person I expected to hear of having a health related problem. I called J immediately and found out her mom had fallen ill and was in the hospital. Within an hour of that call she was gone. No one still knows why. If you are the praying type, please hold J and her family in yours. And everyone reading this please take a moment to tell those closest to you that you love them, or appreciate them, or make them a peanut butter and banana sandwich just out of the blue, because nothing is guaranteed in this world, and the healthiest person you know could be gone in a heartbeat.

And just for the record, I love you all.

Marius

End of Line

And with this post I officially declare Blog Roulette both a success, and complete. My goal was to help prime the blogging pump for myself and anyone else who wished to participate, and my thanks to Stinkypaw, flurrious, and The Naughty Monkey for indulging me for December. I know your readers appreciated it, since I am one of your readers. :-) I am going to do my best to continue to post more frequently this year, and to try to be less of a downer as well.

Yesterday we got a very pleasant surprise. My friend A and his family spent the day at Busch Gardens, and since that is very close to us they gave a ring and we met for dinner afterward. We gathered at a Friday's near the park, and much joyous conversation was conversed, and many a tasty nom was nommed. I am very grateful that my closest friends of my youth are still my dearest friends now, and A is the one human outside of blood relatives that I have known the longest. We met in P.E. class at Lake Worth Community High School in, if I'm not mistaken, 1979 or 80. Neither of us wanted to be in the class, and I think it was either before or after having to run on the track we were chatting and discovered that we were both from Connecticut and both liked Star Trek. And we've been friends ever since. He and his family live a couple of hours south of me, and we don't get together nearly often enough, but when we do it's as if no time has passed. And his kids are totally groovy, too. (Hi G and D!) :-) And, of course, his wife, B, is an absolute treasure.

So there, something very nice to round out the year. On a somewhat crappier note we were supposed to go down to South Florida today, but I have contracted a crud that is making it unwise to travel, not to mention my desire to not share these particular microbes with anyone else. But, if all goes well and I can shake this thing, I will be going to Duke's for New Year's Eve. Then it's up to Tallahassee on Sunday to retrieve the young'n, and back to work on Monday. As usual, I'm more than ready to go back to work.

So, barring something amazing happening, this will be my last post of the year, so let me wish you all an amazing end of year blow-out if that is your plan, or a quiet night, if that is your wish, and a fabulous, prosperous, healthy, and all around magnificent 2011 to you all.

Lots of love and big hugs to everyone!!

Marius

Retroactive Humbug

Yesterday kinda sucked. I didn't want to bum anyone out by posting a downer screed against Christmas, nor is that what this will be, but it's getting harder and harder to get into the spirit each year. Aside from the obvious wet blanket that is the anniversary of my mother's death, I actually miss the days when Christmas day began with a few hours of quiet, then the feeding frenzy of present opening, then the mad dash to squeeze in all the visits and food that decorum, familial obligation, and fraternal desire dictated. Christmas eve was the night that we friends gathered. There was a small group of us that have been friends since high school, and it became a tradition that on Christmas Eve we would join together, usually at C's house, to have 'our' Christmas. As the years passed, and we drifted further down our own paths, the Christmas Eve gathering became less well attended, especially by me as the currents of my random destiny kept taking me far afield. This year only C and K and his family got together, though I did join them via Skype for a wee bit. There is a new Christmas Eve tradition for me, and that is the annual Simply Syndicated Christmas Eve live show, and that is great fun, and very heartwarming, and always leaves everyone smiling.

Christmas day, however, was like any other day. The Missus had to work, so she was gone when Starbuck rousted me out of bed at 5:15. The young'n is with her father this year, so Santa didn't pay a visit, and the number of presents under the tree was identical to when I'd gone to bed. The Internet was a ghost town, with the occasional tumble weed of greeting drifting by, but I tried to stay positive. My wife got off work early, and we opened presents. I cannot complain about the magnificent haul of total geekitude I received this year:



And we spent the rest of the day watching movies, but it was a struggle for me to not let full-blown depression set in. At one point it dawned on me that the only time I left the house yesterday was to take out the trash. Now this is no different from any other Saturday, but when 8:30pm rolled around and my wife went to bed, and I realized that not too many years ago 8:30 would be when the evening's celebrations with those of us that could slip away from the post Christmas dinner comafest at home would begin. I'm too goddam young for 7pm to be the end of the fucking day! But the fact is that we don't really have any friends that live within an hour's drive. (and lest any of my students that are also friends read this and take offense, I mean friends that I can hang with at a moment's notice) So this is not just a Christmas thing, but Christmas is a lens for magnifying the things that are good in one's life, and the things that are not so good. We need to get a life. I'm sick of the inside of this house, sick of not ever doing anything but sit in front of this screen as the irretrievable moments of a finite life slip away in a fog of boredom and apathy.

Anyway, enough bleating. The purpose of this, other than letting me vent a bit, is to ask anyone reading this that might find themselves complaining that there is just too much activity/visiting/eating during the holiday season to consider the alternative. Sure it's restful, but so is a funeral.



Marius

Nice

Y'all know I don't usually post stuff like this, but Stinkypaw has excellent taste in 'make you smile and get a bit misty eyed' stories.

This is my kind of Christmas Story!

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her. On the way, my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything.
She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted... "Ridiculous! Don't you believe it! That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my 2nd world famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbours, the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out at recess during the cold weather. His mother always wrote a note telling the teacher that he had a bad cough but all us kids knew Bobby Decker didn't have a cough, he didn't have a good coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumours about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care... and may you always believe in the magic of SANTA CLAUS!

Give back - what you can, where you can, whenever you can.

But Is It Fun?

Many years ago a movie called Deep Blue Sea came out. It was a cheesy Sci Fi/horror flick about genetically altered sharks that eat a research station. It starred Samuel L. Jackson and for some reason I actually went to the theater to see it. It was not in any way, shape, or form a good movie, but I had fun with it and never regretted seeing it. The trouble came when my friends asked me what I thought of it. As I recall I merely said I liked it. This translated into 'this is a good movie you should go see'. Which they did. They still give me shit for telling them it was a good movie, which I never said, but it did teach me to put tons of disclaimers in front of saying I enjoyed a movie.

In my younger years I was a terrible movie critic, especially with franchise films like Star Trek or Star Wars, but I've found I've mellowed a lot over the years. Two very prominent examples of this are AVATAR and TRON:Legacy. My wife and I saw TRON at the IMAX (there are far too many all caps things in this post) on Friday morning, and I was blown away. The 3D is nice, the film is gorgeous, and the soundtrack is stunning, but the story does not do anything but provide a framework for the technical aspects. And that's fine...for me anyway. It was fun. More and more I've been judging movies by that metric. Was it fun? I've seen lots of fun movies lately. The Expendables, R.E.D., AVATAR, TRON, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Iron Man 2, Predators, even The Last Airbender (but to be fair I had never seen any of the shows on TV so the plot was tabula rasa to me) were all a fun time. Conversely if a movie isn't entertaining me it doesn't matter how amazing the performances are, I tune out. Some people have tried to get me to 'expand my horizons' and watch 'good' movies, but I've found that my boredom threshold has risen drastically, and I have little patience for films I don't like. If we're at home, and I can just jump on the computer while my wife finishes the movie, it's fine. But if we go to the movies, and I'm not enjoying the film, and I can't leave for one reason or another, I get angry. Knight and Day, with Tom Cruise, was TERRIBLE, but my wife was enjoying it, so I kept quiet, and was in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. So now I am growing less shy about saying no to movies I know I won't enjoy. I'm very lucky in that my wife tends to like the same movies I do, and is very accommodating about not forcing me to watch stuff I'm not into, so Knight and Day was a rare thing, and I don't hold it against her. Although I do still kind of grumble that she made me go see Transformers 2. ;-)

So what's my point, you may well ask? If I rave about a movie in any of my online outlets, or even in person, please understand that just because I liked a movie that does not mean that it is a quality film. On the other hand just because I didn't like a movie, it does not follow that the film is crap. I release into the universe that my opinions of movies, music, books, food, and anything short of orgasms(because really, who doesn't like orgasms) is strictly subjective. Your actual mileage may vary.

And now I'll go make some breakfast. If you don't like breakfast you are wrong and a terrible person.

:-)
Marius

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Pt. 1

So yesterday, after several abortive prior attempts, I finally saw part one of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I enjoyed it, quite a lot, actually. It seemed, to me, to be an entertaining encapsulation of the book, as much as I remember anyway. Those who know me in the 'real world' know that my memory isn't always the best, and unless a television or film franchise has the word star in the title odds are my recall of details will be sketchy. Most of the time I find this frustrating, but with the Harry Potter movies it's a positive boon. I have read, and enjoyed all the books, but J.K. Rowling crams so much stuff into each book that I only remember the general outline, so I don't always notice the changes, embellishments, and/or omissions of the films. That being said, however, I don't think you can really enjoy The Deathly Hallows without having read the book first. The movie, for all its sluggish second act, moves at breakneck speed, glossing over important details that will matter later. If I didn't already know the gist of what was going on I'd have been lost.

As far as the performances go I must disagree with many people who have said that Daniel Radcliff, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint are all washed up. I think they did an excellent job in this movie, especially Watson. Granted these kids have been playing their respective roles for nearly half their lives, and we'll have to see if any of them go on to try their hands at other roles(yes, Radcliff has been doing stage work already) but I had no trouble believing anything they did or said in this movie. If anything it was the 'adults' who pulled me out of the film at times, especially Helena Bonham Carter's Bellatrix LaStrange. In the previous movies she was over the top, but not as cartoonish as she was in this show. But that's a minor quibble. The truly telling thing was that this two and a half hour long film didn't feel like it was that long to me. I was enthralled and entertained, and am very much looking forward to the second half. If you are a fan of the films you will like this one. If you have also read the books, so much the better.

And now, or in a few hours anyway, we are going to see TRON at the IMAX. I'll give a full report later.

Peace, y'all.
Marius

Zardoz Doesn't

When I was 12 or so I was given a book of Science Fiction movie trivia quizzes. It was mostly Star Trek and Star Wars with a smattering of other things as well. I had at least heard of most of the other movies, but for some reason the film Zardoz stood out as one I'd never heard of. Maybe it was because it included the above picture of Sean Connery in a diaper, but that name stuck with me all these years hence. I'd heard it was a classic. I'd heard it was terrible. I'd heard it was a film Connery would like to forget. Well, I've finally seen it, and it is definitely two out of those three. It was released in 1974, and apparently had a budget of about $20, most of which seemingly went to the local pot dealer. The story, as far as I can tell, is about a far future where the world has been separated into the technological, and immortal elite, and the radiation ravaged rabble, and in between a race of exterminators who worship a giant floating stone head called Zardoz. Connery plays one of the exterminators who inexplicably ends up inside the stone head, and then is taken in to the elite society for study, and adventures ensue. And by adventures I mean two hours of head scratching, breasts, and inexplicable plot twists that either mean the film makers were stoned out of their minds, or were really hoping the audience would be...or both. In its favor the story is very reminiscent of some of the best post-apocalyptic books of the era, and I can see where legendary schlock junkie, John Boorman, was going with the film, but the execution of the story is so clunky and disjointed that rather than being an interesting and cautionary tale about the dangers of scientists playing god, it is more the cinematic equivalent of a Doors album. You don't have to be high to watch it, but it probably helps a lot. I blame Stanley Kubrik, actually. 2001: A Space Odyssey was brilliant, but even today it baffles people as to the 'true' meaning of some of the scenes, especially the ending. So it only follows that lesser film makers have adopted the philosophy that if the audience cannot figure out what's going on, they'll just assume it's high art and sing its praises. Not so with Zardoz. The Netflix write up calls it a 'cult classic', but I can't imagine sitting through it a second time, but then again I no longer partake of the substances that might make that an enjoyable giggle-fest. There is a lot of 70s style nudity, which means breasts, but even there the attempt to make the sexual subplot about a 'wild man' being introduced to a sexless and sterile society is, well, flaccid. About the only plus to the movie is that Connery spends the majority of his screen time wearing only his orange panties, so if you find a bit of Bond beefcake to your liking, this film is a feast. If not, might I recommend Silent Running or The Omega Man for your 70s SciFi needs.

Back to you, Stinkypaw.

Merry...um...yeah, whatever.

We haven't put up any decorations yet. We've bought some presents, and my wife has done some wrapping, but festivity has yet to visit Castle Marius. I've been trying to get in the mood, but this is the time of year that I feel my mother's absence most. She was always the fuhrer of festive in our house. Left to us, the men-folk, the ornaments would never leave their cardboard tombs. Trees would stay outside, and lights would be simple illumination devices. But every year, almost before the last turkey sandwich was eaten during the post-Thanksgiving week, she'd initiate passive-aggresive-Christmas-mode. She'd go out to the garage, and some time would go by, and then you'd hear a great huffing and puffing and scraping and then you'd see her struggling to bring the tree box into the house. My brother, father and I would all inwardly cringe as we knew what was about to happen. If we didn't immediately go all North Pole on the house she'd crank her guilt rays up to 11 and sigh and moan, but never actually tell anyone to do anything, ultimately getting us up on chairs, and chasing the cats away from the ornaments, and actually having a pretty good time decorating. The house would be all glittery and twinkly, and completely commercially acceptable by any and all advertising agencies, and the nativity we've had all my life would be on the little table between the kitchen and living room, just waiting for the annual "let's put a wind up monster in the back and see how long it takes for her to notice" game.

But here, now, I'm the motivator of the holiday cheer, but I'm not very motivated. My wife likes it when the house is decorated, but it never occurs to her to actually get them out and decorate. The young'n doesn't seem to care one way or the other, and so far I just can't generate enough 'wanna' to get it done. I know, as Shakespeare says, 'tis common. Everyone, in an ideal world, will lose their parents, but it was too soon, and the third anniversary of her death is near.(even as I look at the word third I can't believe it) Hopefully once the winter break begins and I begin to decompress from a very taxing semester I'll grow less grinchy. Something that has already helped in that area was a lovely, and unexpected package that arrived from the Great White North. Mdme. Stinkypaw, that shining beacon of wonderfulness in Quebec, sent me a jar of DELICIOUS homemade ketchup and some amazing cookies(that met a terrible demise last night)and a card(above) that proves that I have quite accurately depicted Starbuck herein. Merci beaucoup, my blend. :-) And speaking of Mdme. Stinkypaw, tag! You're it!! :-)

Ebeneezer Marius

This Was Too Good Not To Steal

This was lovingly swiped from Camille Reads, a wonderful blog by a groovy lady in Pennsylvania. Check her out, you won't be sorry, unless of course you are a bigot, or racist, or any other type of narrow minded douche...but then again I don't think you'd be here if you were. :-)


The following was found on Craig's List (the post is now removed):

A mutual friend of ours threw a big party for her 30th birthday, tons of people were there and it was a lot of fun. Somewhere along the line you and I ended up on the balcony for some fresh air at the same time. We started chatting; we talked about sports, books, tv – discovered we both are about to start our masters degrees and spent some time debating the pro’s and con’s of the educational system. We talked about hanging out sometime, and you wanted to meet my girlfriend.

I understand how upsetting it was for you when I blinked mildly in surprise and said I was here with my husband. I know it was a shock to your system, if your face had turned any paler I might have called 911. You made a good recovery though - that hurried mutter of “I’m not like that” was very polite and you only knocked over two drinks and one vase in your hurry to rush to anywhere other than near me. I can’t blame you – I forgot how delicate you straight boys are. So I wanted to give you a few helpful hints about where you went wrong last night.

1) As a general rule we don’t walk around with big signs around our neck proclaiming our sexuality. No scarlet letters, no scent of hellfire and brimstone… sorry about that.

2) We do not generally assume that everyone within 5 feet of us must also be homosexual – it was nice of you to immediately reassure me that you are hetero, but it was really unnecessary.

3) Homosexuality is not infectious. While I am sure you meant no disrespect with your hasty departure; in the future you can rest assured that taking a few extra seconds in your mad dash for safety will not result in you being turned gay. It will however keep you from destroying expensive vases and knocking over senior citizens.

4) This next one may come as a surprise; but you are not, in fact, irresistible. The fact that you have a dick does not instantly turn me into a bundle of uncontrolled lust. Contrary to popular opinion, being in the same room with a straight man does not cause a gay man to instantly lose all common sense and basic common courtesy. Though I am not so sure about the reverse.

5) Homosexuals in general get a little irked when people treat us like some sort of leper. Rushing to another mutual friend of ours and advising him of my sexuality, so he could be “forewarned” was really uncalled for.

6) Upon being told (by said mutual friend) to stop being an idiot and that you were not my type anyway… it generally confuses the issue when you then proceed to become upset that I DON’T find you attractive. Three seconds ago you were running through a crowd of people with your hands cupped protectively over your junk as if I might attack you at any moment with a blowjob. See hint number 4.

7) We homosexuals have an odd sense of humor – I can’t help that. Something about watching you freak out as if all the demons of hell were after you just struck me as vastly amusing.

8) While being pissed at me for dissolving into uncontrollable laughter might be understandable… gathering a couple guys together to “teach the fag a lesson” is not.

9) You might also want to drink a little less and be a little more careful about the guys you approach for your little proto-hate-mob.

10) Assuming the two tall muscle-bound bruisers must be uber-hetero and just as appalled by my presence as you was your first mistake. It was an understandable one though. How were you to know that pflag tshirt the first guy was wearing wasn’t a sports team? Also the rainbow ring the second guy was wearing could have meant anything I am sure.

11) In retrospect I suppose that upon hearing your not very subtle hate-talk and seeing who you were heading for; I could have said something instead of just laughing harder. I apologize for that. I should have just introduced you to my husband instead of letting you walk up to him and ask him if he wanted to help you teach “that fag over there” a lesson. I hope that broken nose heals up cleanly.

http://lansing.craigslist.org/rnr/1797870768.html

That's Why I'm Here

I live in Florida. That's no secret. Most of the year I wonder why the Hell I keep coming back to this totally effed up state. The population is a strange spectrum ranging from the obscenely wealthy to the most pathetically impoverished, many of whom are certifiably insane. We are in The South(tm), but don't really have a culture of our own. There is no Florida accent, or mode of dress(despite what shows like Miami Vice liked to try to pretend), or traditions (unless you count hurricane preparation a tradition), yet every time I've left this wacky peninsula I've been drawn back, and I cannot give a good reason why. It's not the food, cause there isn't a particular cuisine. It's not the cost of living, as it's not that cheap down here. It's a long drive to just about anywhere, and traveling cross-state is like stepping into a time machine with no guidance system. Modern metropolises(metropoli?) bordered by small towns that make rural Alabama seem cosmopolitan all squeezed into the ever shrinking areas not awash with swamp, mud, and prehistoric monsters. So why do I stay here? I don't know, but reading the tweets and blogs from the rest of the world helps right now. It seems that Winter has arrived with a vengeance, dumping heaps of snow and misery on the less temperate regions of this planet, and though come the lead-melting days of August I'll look back on this post and shake my head in ironic wonder, it's actually rather pleasant here now. Temperatures are low enough to warrant turning the heater on, and wearing some heavier clothing, but at its worst a Florida winter is uncomfortable. Sure we had some long freezes last year that took a toll on the citrus crop, but to the average Floridian it was more annoying than dangerous. You never hear of homeless people freezing to death here, or see the numerous youtube videos of cars careening out of control on the icy roads of Miami. Granted we don't get to build snowmen, or have snowball fights, or wake up to see the still pristine white blanket turning what was once a familiar landscape into a sparkling alien vista, but I also have never bought a set of snow tires, or had to winterize my vehicle. So yeah, it's so crazy in this state that Fark.com has its own 'Florida' tag for the insane stories that emanate from here, I guess it's the climate that keeps me here.

Oh, and yeah, some of the people I love the most live here, too. ;-)

Over to you, Stinkypaw.

Spinnnnnnnnnnnnn....click!

And Blog Roulette begins. In amongst all the annoyances and pains we've been dealing with here at Castle Marius of late there is a ray of grooviness. A couple of months ago I decided I am sick of being a fat ass. So I just stopped eating garbage. Every day for lunch I eat carrots and celery and cheese. Every night I eat only one helping of dinner and try to make as many low-fat foods as possible. And no snacking after dinner. And for breakfast I have a burrito of cholesterol-free eggs with fat free sour cream, salsa, and Swiss cheese. Just doing that I've lost 15 pounds! And I gave blood a couple of weeks ago and my cholesterol is down. I feel better, and I have had to retire a couple of pair of pants since they fit like tents now. So that's a triumph, methinks. AND I made it through Thanksgiving weekend without a major backslide. Yay me! ;-)

Of course there was the sad news that Leslie Neilsen passed away, but I noticed that most of the people on twitter and Facebook that mentioned it did so by saying, "Leslie Neilsen died? Surely you can't be serious!" What a wonderful tribute that even in death he brought laughter. His career spanned every genre of TV and film, running from the deathly serious to the painfully silly. His filmography on IMDB.com is 11 pages long!! A brilliant, multifaceted career, and by all accounts a truly nice man. His was truly a life well lived.

And now I pass the keyboard to Stinkypaw. Make sure you all tune in to her blog tomorrow.

Peace,
Marius

Blog Roulette

Now where did I put that gauntlet? (rummages through antique foot locker, pulling out various intriguing yet vague ideas and items, sets each aside until...) AH! There it is. It's a bit moldy, but the leather is unbroken, and with a little mink oil and some elbow grease...be right back.

{time passes}

Right! OK, here we go. I propose a game for the month of December. I call it Blog Roulette. As the wonderful, and herculean Naughty Monkey has proven this NaNoPoHoGoFloCrowShow posting every day has become something of a daunting task, so starting December 1st I shall post something, then on the 2nd Stinkypaw shall post, then flurrious, then Monkey, then it shall rotate back to me, etc. Of course, if anyone else wishes to join, or if any of you lovely and talented blogstresses would rather not, it's all good. But this will give us all a daily post of newness to read, without the pressure of posting daily. Of course extra posts will be most welcome, as well. My blends...the gauntlet is thrown. What say ye?

And Now a Brief Intermission

This reminds me of my senior year in college.

More Thievery

Can you fill this out without lying?
I stole...I mean borrowed this from Stinkypaw. Feel free to gank it yourself:

Last thing you drank?
That wondrous elixir of life, coffee.

Last store you went to?
Target...I needed new underwear due to losing more than 10 pounds lately.

Where was your default picture taken?
Two houses ago.

Last person you rode in a car with under the age of 20?
Um, that'd be the COA* I guess.

Can you play guitar hero?
Dunno, but I wail on the Rock Band drums.

Name someone that made you laugh today?
The only creatures I've interacted with so far are the Kitties-O-The-Apocalypse, and they haven't told any jokes yet.

When was the last time you saw your best friend?
It has been waaaaay too long.

How late did you stay up last night?
11:30 or so.

You could move somewhere else, would you?
In a heartbeat!(England, Australia, The Carolinas)


Which of your friends lives closest to you?
Not sure, actually. Most of my close friends live within 1-4 hours of me.

Do you believe ex's can be friends?
Most of mine are.

Do you like calling or texting better?
Texting. It's quicker.

How do you feel about Dr Pepper?
It exists, people drink it, but I have no emotional reaction to it whatsoever.

When was the last time you cried really hard?
When my mom died.

Where is your biological father right now?
Supposedly in a cemetery in Massachusetts, but I've never been there so I don't know for certain.

Where are you at right now?
At home

What bed did you sleep in last night?
My own

What was the last thing someone bought for you?
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm, my wife got some groceries I needed yesterday.

Who took your profile picture?
C'est moi!

Who was the last person you took a picture of?
Some of the cast of Call of the Wild

Was yesterday better than today?
As I've only experienced about an hour of today I cannot tell.

Can you live a day without TV?
I have many times.

Are you mad about anything?
Not currently.

When was the last time you were extremely disappointed?
Must we dwell on the negative?

Are you a bad influence?
I used to be, now I seem to have stumbled into role model territory, and I'm not so sure that's a good thing.

Night out or night in?
A night out would be welcomed.

Are you more of an individual or an outgoing person?
These are not mutually exclusive, therefore the question is invalid. Please hang up and try your call again.

What items could you not go without during the day?
Lungs.

When was the last time you were in the hospital?
I picked up my wife two days ago from one.

Have you ever thrown shoes on a telephone wire?
Nope


What does the last text message in your inbox say?
Buy more minutes!

How do you feel about your life right now?
Meh

How many times have you been pulled over by the police?
3 or 4, I guess.

Do you hate anyone?
Probably not.

If we were to look in your inbox, what would we find?
Emails, what would you expect to find?

Last person you talked to on the phone?
The Missus.

Can you easily tell if someone’s fake?
You mean like mannequins or wax statues? Sure.

How's your heart?
Beating properly.

Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass?
Yeah, I'm a boring old man now.

Has anyone ever called you perfect before?
Not to my face.

What song is stuck in your head?
Deceiver by Disturbed

Someone knocks on your window at 2 am, who do you want it to be?
Either Superman or Spiderman, since the bedroom is on the second floor.

Wanna have kids before you’re 30?
Too late for that!

Name something you have to do tomorrow?
Same thing I do every day...try to take over the world!

Can you whistle?
Yes

Do you sleep on your side, stomach, or back?
side

What gets in your way of your sleeping?
Starbuck

Are your eyes the same color as your mom's or dad's?
My mom's, I think.

Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes?
Yup

Do you think too much or too little?
It depends on the situation, but usually too much.

Do you smile a lot?
Yes

Who was your last missed call on your cell phone?
You sure are obsessed with my cell phone. Do you work for Verizon or something?

Are you happy with your life?
Meh


Can you handle the truth?
Even if I can't, I need it.

Do you get 8 hours of sleep everyday?
AHAHAHAHAHA! That's hilarious!

What was the last book you read?
Dracula the Undead, by Dacre Stoker

Do you hate the last guy you had a conversation with?
Not in the least.

Is there something you usually wear?
You mean besides the Mickey Mouse three-fingered gloves?

What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
Making coffee.

Honestly, who was the last person to tell you that they love you?
My wife

Did you have an exciting last weekend?
I wouldn't call it exciting, but it was eventful.

Have you ever crawled through a window?
Indeed.

Do you like yourself?
Most days

Are you wearing a bracelet?
Don't own one.

Are you an emotional person?
I can be

What's something that can always make you feel better?
Star Trek

Will this weekend be a good one?
Ask me on Monday

Have you ever worn the opposite gender's clothing?
I'm just seven hours old, truly beautiful to behold, and somebody should be told, my libido hasn't been controlled...

Look behind you, what do you see?
Stairs

Have you ever worked in a food place?
I did my time in Purgatory during my 2.5 year stint at Taco Viva in the 80s.

What would you name your future daughter?
Luthien Tinuvial...that's why my wife will handle that occurrence should it arise.

Any summer plans for 2011?
Nothing confirmed yet.

Did you lie on any of your answers?
No


*Child-O-The-Apocalypse

Peer Pressure

Well, it seems most of my blogging compadres have posted something in the last 24 hours, so I feel honor bound (read:guilt tripped) to do likewise. I know it's NaNukPukeMookaLook month again, but I've been so busy that I barely have time to indulge in peristalsis and a few other autonomic functions, let alone blog every day. So let me explain...no, there is too much. Let me sum up. The show we are running, an adaptation of Call of the Wild, has been beset by the demons of fuckuppery almost from the get go. Things went relatively smoothly until just before we started technical rehearsals, which is when we bring all the elements of the show together the week before opening. Long days and nights are the norm for tech week, but this one was especially awful due to technical problems, electrical anomalies, and the theft of a $500 rented strobe light by some cocksuckers unknown who I sincerely wish to read of their untimely yet embarrassing demise due to autoerotic asphyxiation someday. Now normally I'd say that at least we got the show up and running on time, which we did, and with a minimum of blood, which we didn't. It's true that my crew and I shed very little of the red stuff on this one, although I did inflict numerous annoying yet minor injuries upon myself, but the cast has been brutalized. This is a very physical show, and most of the cast play dogs in the Yukon, so there is a lot of running, and barking, and fighting, etc. And those that don't play dogs are frequently on stilts to simulate the view a sled dog has of the drivers. Every night someone has gotten hit, or twisted, or abraded, or fallen, or sickened to the point that I am keeping ice and bandages on hand just in case. But I have to say that, despite some unusual backstage dramas, the cast have been absolute troopers about the punishment this play is dealing them, and my proverbial hat is off to them.

As for why my work load is so pressing, our Design/Costume teacher, who is very pregnant, was quite unexpectedly put on complete bed rest by her doctor two weeks ago. We had anticipated that there would be some times when she'd be out, and I had agreed to take over her classes when she couldn't be there, but none of us expected her to be totally gone until further in the semester. So now I'm teaching every day of the week, and trying to keep up with her class materials as well as my own. I'm sure it will all be ok, but I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all right now. Fortunately, now that the show is up and running, I can focus on the academics, and hopefully catch up with her schedule as well as my own, and manage to squeeze in a podcast or two as well. These are, indeed, interesting times.

How is your Autumn going?

Marius

Sweet Addiction

The ritual usually begins somewhere between 10 and 11pm. I want to go to sleep, but then I realize I haven't prepared tomorrow's fix. Raising myself from either my chair, or the couch, I shamble like a refugee from a Romero flick to the kitchen and begin the process. Remove the leavings from that morning, rinse both carafes, one large, one small. Paper filter for one, permanent filter for the other. One and a half spoons full in the small pot, two in the large. Push the delay button, then off to bed. I'm not usually around for the first event, as my wife gets up at 2am, hence the two pots, but when the Kitties-O-The-Apocalypse untimely rip me from my sleep, and I stumble downstairs to the refrain of mews and purrs, there awaits that modern marvel of automated technology, the steaming pot of freshly brewed coffee. I can already feel that slight thrill through my sleep-addled synapses as I grasp the handle of my china mug, emblazoned with the so familiar delta and circle pattern and registry of a certain mythical starship, and empty into it the powdered contents of one pink paper packet.(yes, folks, I use saccharine. deal with it) Then that magical moment when I feel the weight of the full carafe in my hand and pour the life giving brew. A dash of milk, and thence to the computer.

Recently we had to retire our first large pot. It was a sad day as it seemed to have learned my preferences and did not make coffee that was too hot to drink right away. Of course, that was a symptom of its impending demise, but it was still nice. We now have a shiny new Mr. Coffee that makes very hot coffee, so I must wait a bit. I surf, read email, then, finally, that blissful moment arrives when the light brown nectar before me reaches the maximum palatable temperature, and those first tentative sips are allowed. It's almost like foreplay to my system, just a tiny sip, not too much lest pain follow hard on the heels of pleasure, then back to the illuminated rectangle. Gradually the sips grow larger as the temperature drops, until that wondrous, glorious, life-affirming moment when the coffee reaches that perfect condition where a mouth full is sheer joy, and the swallowed brew feels like it is flowing to every cell in every part of my body at once, bringing with it a crescendo of power and life that readies me for all the challenges of the coming day. Then, almost sadly, the sight of the bottom of my mug, gleaming like the bones of a battlefield corpse, meets my gaze and I realize the cup is drained. The house is silent for a moment, save for the soft susurration of the computer's fans. It's as if the world is holding its breath in anticipation or remembrance, and a moment of sadness comes upon the morning at the passing of this wonder of the beverage world. The cat mews, a bird calls in the distance, then all is quiet. And then, slowly at first, the corners of my mouth begin to climb upward as realization hits like a thunderclap...there's more coffee in the pot!


And there was much rejoicing.


Good morning, y'all.

Marius

And so...

Gather round, folks, and let me regale you with tales of such staggering mundanity that you may find yourself turned to stone ere you finish this entry. Or if not stone, at least a particle board substrate covered with a rather convincing veneer with a very stone-like pattern. In any case, here's what's been going down of late here at Castle Marius. The CoA has finally started middle school, and things are not going well. Her teachers no longer think that ADD is the totality of her peccadilloes, and her psychiatrist feels we need to get her to a psychologist. We had a psychologist, but she has stopped returning our phone calls, so the search begins anew. I'll not go into details about the young'n's behaviors, but her psychiatrist mentioned autism as a possibility for the first time. Granted autism, like cancer, is a blanket term for a myriad of conditions, but it can have some pretty significant consequences which have been nibbling away at my brain little by little. But, on the bright side, if we can finally get an accurate diagnosis, and find the right combination of medical and behavioral treatments, perhaps we can actually get her on the road to becoming a functioning member of society. This is the bulk of the reason y'all haven't heard much from me as this has pretty much dominated my thoughts.

On the tech front I got a new phone yesterday. It has lots of stuff that it does that I've never used in a phone before, like a camera and some internet connectivity. The main reason I wanted it, however, is that it has a full QWERTY keyboard. While I may not text as much as your average teenager, many of my students do text me, and it will greatly streamline my communication with them if I can actually type. And it is an mp3 player and voice recorder, both of which I will use. So, like with computers and the Internet so long ago, I am dragged most unwillingly into the 21st century. If you want/need my number send me an email.

Finally I've been trying to get rid of some of me. Over the last couple of years I sort of stopped caring about what a blob of blubber I was becoming. I'd made a few half-assed attempts at cutting back on the intake of crap, usually failing around 10:30 at night when there was cake, or cookies wafting their siren song across the darkened house. Then, about three weeks ago, something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the sight of myself in the mirror after my shower that morning, or just the general feeling of yuck, but like when I quit smoking years ago I just decided to stop eating so much. Breakfast is still more or less then same, but lunch has become exclusively baby carrots, some sliced cheese, and celery or some other raw, green veggies. And then for dinner I eat normally, but only one portion, and I am letting my stomach, not my mouth, decide when I'm done. And nothing after 8pm unless I become legitimately hungry, then it's more carrots. And it's been working. I dropped nearly ten pounds right away. It would appear that I had been working very hard to maintain my Jabba-like girth, and I have noticed a definite improvement in how I feel. And last night really showed me that my dietary change is working. Everything was running late, and the missus didn't thaw anything for dinner, so I asked her to stop at Taco Bell since the CoA will eat that without a fight, and I've been good so a bit of indulgence should be ok. Well, my usual from Taco Bell is, for that place, fairly healthy. 7 layer burrito and a nachos supreme with no meat. Neither of those have any meat in them, so I figured it was only cheating a little bit. UGH!!! It is now twelve hours later and I sill feel like I swallowed a rock. Alas, there may not be any meat fat in the burrito, or the nachos, but the sour cream, and fake yellow cheese-like polymer nacho coating sure have their own adipose contingent, and man did I regret eating them. At least there is a lesson learned here. Cheating only hurts me.

So that's that for now. What's new with you?

Mundanely yours, Marius.

Realization

I have a student that, for the sake of this tale, I'll call Jonathan. Jonathan looks like a boy, dresses like a boy, acts like a boy, but until this past summer was known to all of us as Andrea. When he friended me on a certain popular social media site I noticed many photos where he was trying to look like a Jonathan, and not an Andrea. At one point he even asked me if I would please call him Jonathan in class, and if I would use only masculine pronouns when referring to him. Of course I agreed, and though it took me a little while to reprogram my brain to think of him as a he, it wasn't that difficult. Now in class, though my roster reads Andrea, I call him Jonathan when checking the roll, and as you have read above use only masculine terms when a gender specific pronoun is called for. It has proven to be a very gratifying experience for us both, because I often refer to my student workers as ladies or gentlemen, and when I speak of him in the latter category he lights up with barely controlled joy. This also has let me do a bit of mental back-patting as I inwardly congratulate myself for being so progressive. Then today something happened that showed me just how deeply parochialism and prejudice can run. There has been a young man hanging around the halls of the theatre lately that I don't know. I noticed him today and was going to ask him why he as loitering about when I saw Jonathan go over and sit on his lap. I knew Jonathan was in a relationship, but I had always assumed his significant other to be female. I had unconsciously equated 'wanting to be male' with 'gay female'. As I tried to work out the mechanics of such a relationship in my mind, even going so far as to contemplate asking him about it, I had an epiphany. First of all, it's none of my business, but more importantly it's irrelevant. If two people love each other, and they don't care about 'traditional' gender roles, who am I to say that a person who is on the road to a sex change must automatically like only members of the soon-to-be opposite gender? Even though I do my best to be as gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, and transgendered friendly as I can be, I still try to label and pigeon hole people. Gender and love, while often intertwined, are not always related, and if Jonathan is able to love a person for the contents of their skull, rather than being concerned with the contents of their trousers, then that's fantastic, and I shall simply accept, even if I don't fully understand.

Later, folks.

Marius

On The Road Again

Well, sort of. Tonight the Asolo theatre company brought their production of Antigone Now to my theatre. It's an updated and condensed retelling of Sophocles' tragedy of the last days of Oedipus's daughter, Antigone, and it was wonderful. I had forgotten how much fun it is to work with a touring company. When I was at the Duncan Theatre in Lake Worth we brought in dozens of touring shows a year. Orchestras, choirs, plays, dance troupes, everything from classical ballet to Irish folk ensembles. It was always exciting waiting for that truck to get there, then the frenzy of activity as the actors and technicians swarmed into the theater anxious to unload, set-up, and maybe grab a few minutes rest before the performance. I love working with road crews, making their lives as easy as possible when they are guests in my home, trying my best to have them remember that one gig where that bald dude made them feel so welcome. That was my daily life for three years at the Duncan, and I totally took it for granted. We prided ourselves on being the one stop that the groups would remember fondly, and took great pains to make their stays in our house as smooth and painless as possible. It didn't always work out that way, of course. There was the time I nearly dropped the fire curtain on an internationally famous modern dance troupe, or the time the road manager of a Russian ballet company nearly got fired while in our theatre because the grande dame of the show was a raging bitch. But mostly it was a lot of fun...and a lot of work, but I loved it, and I deeply miss it. Tonight really showed me how much I miss it. There is little in my professional life that tops an unforced smile and 'thank you' from the members of a touring group...except the joy I get from helping my students do theatre right. Yeah, I miss running a road house, but I love what I'm doing now, too.

I love my job. :-)

Marius the Content

Smell's Like a Monster

I've been trying to figure out why I, and most of the people whose blogs I love the most, haven't been posting as much lately. I think it might have something to do with there not being much going on in the world that stirs me. We've been stuck in two wars for nearly a decade now, with no end in sight. The current administration is almost as bad as the previous, just in different ways. TV, with the exception of the Mythbusters and Stewart and Colbert is a wasteland of trite tripe. Work is great, but it's really just more of the same, building shows you've never heard of and teaching classes you've already heard about. And home is home. I could gripe about the COA driving me crazy, or talk about Starbuck's latest antics:
Heh, heh. Fatass in a box


But to quote the Bare Naked Ladies, it's all been done. But fear not, gentle readers. I haven't given up on this medium just yet. Not blogging is starting to bother me more than it used to, and maybe...just maybe the chrysalis is starting to crack. The egg is starting to hatch. The sleeper must awaken, and the coupons must be doubled. We must all take a stand and say, "My laundry is dirty, and I'm not going to take it anymore!!!!"

Or, just smell like a monster.


G'night, y'all.

Marius

Digital Hermitage

I've noticed, of late, though I know not wherefore, that I have lost much of my facility with the telephone. I used to spend hours on the phone chatting with friends, with family. Then I found the Internet. At first it was just an interesting diversion; a place to find games, information, and the occasional email. Then, just over five years ago, I began this blog. At the time I expected it to fare much like my previous journaling endeavors fared, a few consecutive posts, then longer and longer gaps til it petered out. But a strange thing happened. As I grew more accustomed to posting my thoughts, ideas, and experiences here on t'webs, I grew less enamored of the phone. Now I shy away from 'real time' communication, which in itself is a term I would never have used six years ago, and prefer to chat, or text, or email. The downside to this is that those of you out there who avail themselves of my electronic exhibitionism know more about my life than my own family. Most of my family are fairly technophobic, or at the very least see little use for computers. My brother has a computer that he uses mainly for gaming and email, but has never listened to my podcast, nor read this blog to my knowledge. My relatives 'up north' have email addresses, but I don't know if they ever use them, nor do they have computers at home. And my dad won't go near the computer at his house. When he retired several years ago he said that he stared at computer screens every day at work, and he'd be damned if he'd do it at home too. Of course the irony is that all he does now is stare at the TV screen, but I can't fault him for that. There is also a problem in that it rarely occurs to me to pick up the phone and call anyone, or if I do think of it the time and/or place isn't right. And on the occasion when, say, my aunt in Connecticut calls me, often my phone is not on, or is in another room, or I'm driving and can't get to the call in time. I always promise myself that I'll call back, but then some invisible neurosis makes me put it off, or find reasons/excuses why I should do it later. And the worst part is that there is a part of my brain that feels guilty that I never call anyone, but another part that counters 'why do I always have to call?', yet when they do I often find a way to avoid it. Yet I would gladly chat online with any of them, or exchange emails, or engage in any other non-verbal electronic exchange. I just don't get it. I'm used to being the odd man out in the family, but this is just plain stupid. It's not like talking to people is painful, or tiring, and hell I do a weekly show that is all about talking with people, for fuck's sake! I just don't get me sometimes.

So, do any of you have a similar malady, or know of someone who has crawled inside the Internet and won't come out? Please tell me I'm not alone in here.

Marius the Remote

Lucky 7

About a month and a half ago I did something stupid. Like a moron I followed a link on a questionable web site and infected my computer with what is known as 'ransom ware'. Its that crap that pretends to be an anti-virus program but takes over your machine and won't go away until you buy the remedy. Well I wasn't having any of that, and I grappled with the beastly thing for over six hours. When the dust cleared I was victorious...but my operating system was critically injured. No worries, thought I, for I have the XP install discs that Unkk so graciously supplied when he gave me this computer. So I popped the first disc in, clicked 'repair', and waited for the return of full functionality. Alas, twas not to be. I ran the install several times, with the same results...I couldn't go online, and several drivers wouldn't install. I contacted Unkk, who tried to assist over the phone, but we couldn't figure it out, so he tried sending me a copy of Windows 7. It's a huge program that took about two hours to send, and it didn't work. So he said he'd send the disc via mail. Then, alas, he vanished under an avalanche of real life stuff, and I have yet to hear back from him. So, after limping along on a trusty, but swiftly deteriorating laptop I finally decided to bite the bullet and purchase Windows 7. Amazon was selling it for about $50 cheaper than anywhere else, and the Missus said we could, just barely, afford it. It wasn't supposed to get here until Wednesday, but the package was in the box yesterday. I was both elated and nervous because if it didn't work that would be $150 wasted. So it was with great trepidation that I popped the disc into the computer shaped paperweight, and clicked 'install'. Oh...My...Flying Spaghetti Monster! It's like a brand new computer! This machine is finally living up to the potential of its monstrous components. The install was smooth as glass, and did not take anywhere near as long as XP had, and everything works perfectly. To be honest I never liked XP, and have long lamented the loss of Windows 98. XP was, to me, like going from driving a stick-shift to a car that only had an accelerator and brake pedal. It was designed for people who don't care what's under the hood, but I had been used to tinkering with the guts of the OS, which was relatively easy in 98. I never dealt with Vista, but from what I hear that's a good thing, but Windows 7 seems to be an awesome OS, though I'm only just beginning to explore its features. One example of how much better it is, when I installed City of Heroes on my old machine, just loading the program from the install discs usually took about 20 to 30 minutes, so I got ready to do the dishes while it loaded yesterday. The game loaded in about 10 minutes!! And every other program install that didn't involve a download has gone equally as fast. I had heard good things about 7, and from people who generally aren't fans of Windows, and I'm starting to see why. So I still have a lot of downloading to do to get back to where I was before, but methinks it will be fun this time, rather than a chore.

Peace, y'all,
Marius