Justice or Vengeance?

I've been fairly quiet about the events in Boston this week, mostly because I don't like to speculate without data, and despite round-the-clock coverage by just about every news medium known to man there has been very little actual data.  But now that the two suspects in the Boston Marathon bombing (just in case you don't know what I'm talking about) are accounted for I'm going to go ahead and discuss. The facts, in a nutshell, are that for reasons as yet unknown two naturalized Chechen immigrants, neither with a history of any sort of violence, suddenly decided to set off bombs at the Boston Marathon, killing two and maiming hundreds.  After being identified by various videos of the event they were found, fled, one was shot and killed, and the other was eventually captured alive, albeit in serious condition. The two are brothers, the dead one was 26 while the other is 19, and that is what I want to discuss.

Many people are calling for the head of the living assailant, and it is quite understandable, but I'm not so sure about that yet. One friend of mine even asked on Facebook what an appropriate sentence would be, and many respondents seem all too willing to get Medieval on him. Ordinarily, if, indeed such a word can be used here, I'd be all for getting out the rack and hot pokers too, but pending further information I'm reserving my vengeful desires. Let me explain why.

In my job I work with 18-20 year old boys every day. Notice I said boys. Physically yes, they are men, and many of them even deserve the appellation 'man', but many of them do not. The brain of a 19 year old human male is far from finished developing, and while many of them can be very, very smart when it comes to things like information storage and retrieval, they tend to be rock stupid when it comes to things like actually functioning in the real world. I don't know what the relationship was between this boy and his brother, and if it turns out that the younger one was every bit as complicit and guilty of bomb construction and trigger pulling then I'll be first in line at the hanging. But if this is a situation where the older man used the gullibility and malleability of his younger brother to twist him into someone he wasn't, then I hope those who are prosecuting the case have the compassion to at least try to rehabilitate him. Yes he must pay for the crimes he has committed, but we must determine if he is both perpetrator and victim before deciding just how he must pay. Only then will justice be served.

Face Palm

I think it was when the CoA was in second grade that she was diagnosed with ADHD.  I knew this almost from the first time I met her, but it took a while before official confirmation came along. It's important because schools need official diagnoses of mental conditions in order to make accommodations, and she needs a lot of them.  As she grew older it seemed that the ADHD was no longer the only thing going on, but we could never get her health care providers to agree on a diagnosis.  Her psychiatrists said it was only ADHD.  Her psychologists (the last one just stopped returning our calls one day) grew frustrated in trying to nail down the exact situation.  About the only thing they all agree on, including the counselors, is that she needs to be on medication.  So last summer her grandparents footed the rather large bill for an extensive neurological screening at the University of Mississippi that suggested not only ADHD but other things as well and strongly urged us to get her to a neurologist.  Last week she had her first neurologist appointment.  They want her to get an MRI, and have suggested that they strongly suspect she has Asperger Syndrome, which, again, is something I've suggested many times and had her shrinks say no.

 Today she had an appointment with her psychiatrist, and my wife told him about the neurologist's suspicions. His reply was along the lines of, "I thought you knew that already. I've been treating her for Asperger's for the past year."   GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!  If we had that on an official document we might have been making progress at school since the accommodations for Asperger are different than those for ADHD. So now he's promised to have the appropriate paperwork ready by next week, and we'll see if the updated diagnosis does any good for this school year, but I rather doubt it since it's so late, but at least we're finally making some progress.

So how is your week going?

Marius the Incredulous

I Want My Guts Back!

Sorry for my absence, dear readers, but a particularly nasty virus has made my digestive tract its bitch for the past few days and I haven't felt much like living, let alone blogging.  But since today I finally feel like poop, instead of total shit, let's see what we can talk about.

First of all I'd like to recommend a few books to y'all.  Reading has always been something I've loved, but in recent years my reading habits have all but died. There are various reasons for this, chief of which is that I used to do the majority of my reading in bed just before going to sleep, but since my wife has to be up at 2:30am for work she goes to bed much earlier than I do, so that has ceased. And if I sit down on the couch to read, I'm usually asleep within a few sentences. But I've recently been making a concerted effort to change that. Over the Christmas break we went up to Mississippi to visit my wife's parents so I checked out John Scalzi's Red Shirts from the library. I'd heard about the book from several people, all positive, so I couldn't wait to read it.  It takes the concept that wearing a red shirt on the original Star Trek was a death sentence and runs with it. I was expecting a silly comedy, but it's actually a serious story about what happens when two universes collide. I can't go into the story too much without spoiling, but I really enjoyed it.  I also finished it during the break, so it's a quick read.

The next book I just finished last night. A while back Wil Wheaton recommended via twitter The Bloggess's blog.  Her name is Jenny Lawson and she is hilarious! Her humor is twisted, and vulgar, yet strangely innocent and sweet, and she has a real flair for injecting true pathos in amongst the stories of strange taxidermy and inappropriate CNN interviews. She released her memoir, titled Let's Pretend This Never Happened, and if you like her blog, you'll love her book. I must warn you that she does use a lot of strong language, but I think the best way to describe her style is M*A*S*H with F-bombs instead of real bombs. Lots of raucous comedy interspersed with real emotions and some sadness.

And finally there is another blog that was recommended to me by my friend Sarah called Parenting Illustrated With Crappy Pictures  which is also hilarious. The author, Amber Dusic, tells tales of her life with two young children and illustrates them with poorly drawn, yet totally endearing pictures.  She also released a book with the same title as her blog, and it's a very fun read. My only complaint is that it is rather short, but for a $10 hardcover it's really worth the money.

Confession time. I started this post at 7:00 this morning, but the baby woke up shortly after I finished the first paragraph and I'm just now getting back to it at 9:08pm.  I think I had more to say than just the books this morning, but my virus addled brain can no longer remember what it was, so I will bid you adieu for now until I either remember what I was going to say, or come up with something else entirely.

Peace, y'all!
Marius 

Here is my reading of Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven.



Oops! Accidentally set it for private viewing. This should be better.

Dramatis Personae

Hi, Folks,
  I thought I might take a few minutes before going to rehearsal today to remind y'all, or introduce y'all to, the cast of characters that you're likely to meet here at Marius' Corner.

Marius: That's me, and my real name is Rick. Maybe someday I'll blog about the origin of my screen name, but the short story is Marius was my favorite of Anne Rice's vampires. I teach Technical Theatre at a small, private college on Florida's west coast and I've been blogging since 2005, though there have been some rather significant gaps in my output over the years. I'm also a podcaster, father, sometime anachronist, and full time geek.

Mrs. Marius: AKA The Mrs., The Wife, My Lovely wife, etc.  She's my better half, and should acquire sainthood eventually for putting up with my shit. She's a fellow nerd, though while my nerdities are more along the Science Fiction line, she's firmly in the Anime/Fantasy camp. Neither of us care for Twilight.

The CoA: This is my step-daughter, and it stands for Child o'the Apocalypse.  She is currently 15, and is forcing me to wonder how the human race survived as long as it has. She has a laundry list of mental and emotional issues that we are doing our level best to deal with, but on top of all that she is now a surly teenager who is so oppressed and misunderstood that she almost never gets to play with her DS anymore. (First World Problem doesn't even begin to cover it.) 

The Starbaby: AKA Sharon.  When my wife was pregnant my podcast listeners christened our fetus The Starbaby.  She is now 19 months old and the light of my life.

Artemis: She is our cat.  We used to have two kitties, Artemis and Starbuck, but back in June Starbuck went walkabout and never came back.  He was something of a doofus, and never exhibited any desire to go outside until Sharon starting walking. He never cared for the baby, and once she could chase him I guess he had enough.  About a month or so ago the CoA said she thought she saw Starbuck up the street. We checked it out, and there is a gang of cats two blocks away, and one of them could very well be our missing lummox, but he won't let us get close enough to tell for sure.  If it is him then he's healthy, and happy, and dragging him home (assuming we could even catch him) would just make him miserable, so we're just happy to know(well, at least we think we know) he's still alive.  Artemis, on the other hand, is needy, neurotic, and grumpy, but we love her.

There is also a plethora of friends who will pop up from time to time.  I generally don't use people's names unless they've given explicit permission, so I tend to use initials, so when I say 'I had dinner with A' that's why.

And thus we have our players. If we shadows have offended think but this and all is mended, everything herein is solely my opinion, and unless specifically stated otherwise in no way represents anyone else's.

Ok, gotta get back to work.

Later, y'all,
Marius

The Duel by Eugene Field

I've been dabbling in poetry reading of late, and I intend to make several recordings both of poems that my mother used to read to my brother and me, like this one, and just poems that appeal for one reason or another. I hope you enjoy them.

Howdy, y'all!!  I'm playing with new templates and trying to get Blogger to actually post things the way I type them instead of one huge, squished-together clump of verbiage, so please feel free to comment on the appearance, format, etc. of The Corner. 

So this week has been something of an auspicious one. Our friend Z, who has been babysitting Sharon since she was just a couple of months old, moved away so we enrolled the baby in a nearby day care place.  As I am the morning parent I feared the first day I dropped her off as I expected heart wrenching tears.  As it turned out she didn't seem in the least bit phased by my leaving her there, but that has been slowly wearing off all week, and today she just stood in the middle of the room crying 'Dada! Dada!'  I know she was most likely fine within a few minutes of my leaving, but it left me feeling a bit like a monster.  I know we'll both get over it soon, but it is a bit wrenching.

In the world of work we start tech rehearsals for our next show, Fuddy Meers, tomorrow.  The set is nearly finished, so I am anticipating a boring time of it for me, which is a good thing. 

I don't want to say that I feel guilty about not being that moved by the death of Roger Ebert, though it is sad, but I wasn't a huge fan.  I didn't dislike him or anything like that, I just didn't really pay much attention to him.  I can say that were it not for him and Gene Siskel giving Robocop two thumbs up, which if you saw the trailers at the time came as quite a surprise, I don't know if I'd have bothered with it.  So there is that.

Ok, time to make the donuts.  Later, gators.

Marius

Killer Hardware

Well, kiddies, what shall we talk about today? I know, let's piss people off right away and talk about gun control in the US of A. Connecticut, the little state that sometimes could, just passed some of the strongest gun control laws in the country. Not surprising in the wake of the Sandy Hook school shooting, but ultimately, in my opinion, pointless. First let's get this out of the way, I am not anti-gun. I'm anti-me-owning-a-gun only because I regularly hurt myself using my coffee maker, I don't need the added risk of removing bits of myself or my family in an unintentionally ballistic fashion, but I don't mind that other responsible people own guns. And there are some words in the US Constitution that seem to indicate that every citizen (meaning white, landed men at the time, of course) have the right to own firearms. We'll leave that whole 'well regulated militia' part alone for the time being as far more learned people than I have debated what those three words really mean for years.
 Anyway, Connecticut has passed bans on certain types of 'assault' weapons, limit clip sizes, and mandate background checks for all gun purchases. [for the sake of brevity let's just assume that there is a huge 'in my opinion' stamp over the rest of this] Background checks are a great idea. It really bugs me that I have to jump through more hoops to buy a box of cold medicine than I do to buy a shotgun. As for limiting hardware, well that's just legislative theatre designed to make it look like they're actually doing something. Sure, limiting semi-auto clips to 7 rounds seems like a logical step, but a skilled shooter can reload a 6 shot revolver in a few seconds, and changing out clips is even faster. Not to mention that someone who is looking to commit a crime with that hardware can easily get the higher capacity magazines just across the border. And the so-called assault weapons are no more or less dangerous than their less scary looking counterparts. This is the beginning of Connecticut's assault weapon definition: Any selective-fire firearm capable of fully automatic, semiautomatic or burst fire at the option of the user... Well, for starters, any weapon that can go full-auto (i.e. a machine gun) is already illegal for civilian use, the rest is just set dressing. I think that the way to curtail gun violence in the US is not to pass band-aid laws that only look like they're doing anything. The way to accomplish anything meaningful is to increase the penalties for misuse of firearms. When drunk driving penalties became much stricter in the 80s drunk driving plummeted, and no one had to ban booze. Start enforcing existing laws, take the guns away from repeat offenders, require training classes for anyone purchasing a firearm, and close the gun show loopholes that allow people to purchase guns without any sort of checks at gun shows. The genie is out of the bottle in this country, folks, and the guns aren't going away, but that lovely Second Amendment everyone likes to point to when ever this issue arises includes the words 'well regulated militia'. I've been told that that means that every citizen is a member of that militia, so let's regulate them well. Training, education, and accountability are the way out of this mess we have in this country, not more restrictions that will be ignored and difficult, if not impossible to enforce.

Existential Blues

Hello? Hellllllooooooooo!!!! Is anyone still out there? Wow, it's dusty in here. Lots of cobwebs and empty Doritos bags. I guess I'll need to do some cleaning up around the ole Corner. When the Hell did I get a cable spool coffee table? I hate those things. Must be squatters, or worse. Could be a bunch of meddling kids! Anyway, HI FOLKS!! It's your old pal Marius fresh from a muchly needed emotional slap in the face. I just got back from a wonderful dinner with my dearest friend A who has helped me realize that I still have a lot to say. You see I stopped blogging due mainly to my posts seeming to take two distinct and, let's be honest, annoying forms: 1. Oh, God! I'm so old and miserable that y'all should come on over and throw things at the decrepit relic. or 2. I HAS A BABY!!!!! It finally got to the point that I couldn't stand to write that stuff, let alone expect anyone to read it, so I just stopped. And lately I've been feeling like the highly compacted core of a baby-induced black hole, slowly losing my identity to that of The Daddy!! Now don't get me wrong, I am so proud of Sharon that I want to crow about it every 10 seconds, but I also keep hearing, most especially tonight, that I'm not the first, nor the only person to have a baby, and while it's great that you love her and all that, STFU ABOUT THE BABY ALREADY!!! So, here I was, feeling like the brittle jerky filling in a boredom and parenting sandwich, and when I tried turning to my usual place of comfort and succor, The Internet, I found little help. Not that there aren't gobs of folks who offer, but no one was close enough to me, with similar enough experiences to really give me the understanding, and kick in the ass, that I needed. I realized I needed someone my age, and for once my gender, so I called on A. We hadn't gotten together since before the baby was born, and it was high time. So gaining my wife's blessing I went on a mini road trip and had some 'guy time'. We talked, had a beer each(as we both had to drive home), and vented at each other. And I feel better about myself than I have in quite some time. Sometimes the best show of friendship is a metaphorical slap in the face to snap one out of a funk and back into living. And this is the first installment thereof. I'm sure The Daddy will still be a regular contributor, but not as often, and, hopefully, only when there's something particularly cute or important to report, and I will do my best to keep the mopey Marius at bay as well. What I do hope to bring is opinion, outrage, silliness, and above all regularity.(no, I am not eating more bran, I mean the blog you sillies) So dust off that RSS feed, gentle readers. Marius is back, and boy does he have a lot on his mind!! Allons-y!!! Marius the Reborn

So...

I love my job. I love teaching, showing, doing. I love building shows, and helping students build shows, and trying to give them a sense of professionalism while still having fun. I love the relationships I build with some of them. Some even become friends, of sorts. But there is one moment in almost every show that really sucks. And it sucks not only because it's unpleasant, but it sucks because no matter how many times it happens it always takes me by surprise. It's usually on the first Friday or Saturday night of the run. The show is over, everyone is ebulliently getting out of costume and makeup, just like every other rehearsal and/or performance, but then it happens. They start getting dressed again, but not in the ratty but comfortable tee shirts and sweatpants, but in nice clothes, and nice makeup, because it's not even 11:00pm, and they're going out. Of course they are. Most of them are barely 19 and they should be going out, but I'm not. I'm going home, and it's already late for me, and this realization hits me like a kick in the nuts. It drives home that as much as I think that I am friends with any of these wonderful people, I'm really not. I'm the teacher they like, they can relax with at school, joke around with in the shop, but the thought of hanging with me is not anathema to them...it's non-existent to them. Not that I want them to ask me along, because that would be awkward as Hell, it's just the voice in my head that says, "Hey, old fart! Guess where you're not going tonight." And I remember the days when I was one of the ones heading to the club or the park without the slightest thought for my teachers back in the theatre, and I know that it is the way of things, and that even if they did ask I'd politely decline, but that doesn't change the sadness and longing at being left behind. I don't have any friends my own age nearby, or at least none that I can hang with. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but there's always that one night during each show that it sticks in my heart like a rusty spear, and I indulge in a bit of self-pity. Sorry to be a bummer tonight. Marius the Elder

This Hate Has Got To End

This is a repost, with permission, from a very brave young woman whom I am proud to call a friend. Please read this and pass it along. This Hate Has Got to End Posted on August 19, 2012 by Mindy Kinnaman What I’m about to do is one of the ballsiest things I’ve probably ever done. To be honest, I don’t really want to do this, but I feel like I am left with no choice. As I’m sure many of you already are aware, earlier today, Missouri Republican and Senate hopeful Todd Akin went on TV this morning in St. Louis and stated that few rapes end in pregnancies. An absurd statement, I know. Unfortunately, this is not the first absurd statement Todd Akin has ever made. Nor is it the most offensive thing he’s said, which is why I’m all fired up. Todd Akin has also spoken about rape, only in terms of “legitimate rape,” meaning that a person has not been raped unless he or she has been forced. But before I get into the heart of my post, I would like to point out one very important fact. What I am about to say has nothing to do with my political leanings. I would say this even if Todd Akin were a Democrat, a Libertarian, or from any other political party. Because this issue goes beyond political parties. It goes to the very essence of who we are as humans, and sadly, I think so many people are so caught up in being the moral fiber police that they simply stop thinking about us as individuals. So who am I, and why do I care? Well, for starters, I am a rape victim. But I am quite certain that Todd Akin and his counterparts would never agree that I was raped. Why? Because I was raped by a partner. Years ago, my partner (whom I have since left) would force me to have sex, but because we were in a consensual relationship, many people do not believe that it is “legitimate rape.” It doesn’t matter that I was forced to do something against my will. It doesn’t matter that my pleas went unheard. What the man in a relationship says goes in the minds of people like Todd Akin. Very few people on this planet know what happened to me, and I thought that I would go to my grave without sharing that information. But as lawmakers around the United States continue to band together to strip women of their rights, I cannot be silent any more. I do not want to be a martyr. I do not want people digging into the skeletons in my closet. But what choice do I have? I currently live in a state with one of the toughest anti-abortion laws in the country, short of banning it outright. Less than 10 miles from me, across the border is the state I was born and raised in, the same state Todd Akin hopes to represent in the U.S. Senate. If I keep my mouth shut, women in the United States will continue to be stripped of their rights. We will lose the choices we have that involve our very own bodies. Have I ever gotten an abortion? No. Would I stand up in support of loved ones who have had no option but to have an abortion? I have and will always do so. If you don’t want to have an abortion because of your beliefs, whether they are religious or not, that is your right, but that does not give you the right to infringe upon my own rights. How long ago was it that Rush Limbaugh decried that unmarried women who want to use birth control should have to show videos of themselves having sex? What happened? He lost a few sponsors, and there was an outcry from those of us who realize how sexist and disgusting his request was, but that was it. It did not stop the state of Missouri from honoring him earlier this year. And Rush Limbaugh would have a fit, because I do use birth control, even though I am not currently having sex, because that is my right. The voices of ignorance seem to be growing louder as the election draws nearer. As much as I wanted to stick my head in the sand and ignore it all, I can’t. I tried, but I can’t. Because if women like me keep our mouths shut, one day we will have no voice at all. Our country is a mess, as the religious right seems to forget the fact that this country was founded upon religious freedom. I have done my research on the First Amendment and written papers on the topic. I know that we, as a country, should be as open as we can and accept that not everyone here believes the same. Yet, so many in this country still openly hate against anyone who doesn’t fit in the Christian code. I grew up Christian, and it was that very hate that drove me from being an active Christian. I could not sit down and listen to all the hate that was spewed forth in the name of God. That same hate that drives people like Todd Akin to want to control everything about us, to strip us of the rights we had to fight so hard to get in the first place. If people like Todd Akin have their way, anyone who is not a white, Christian, God-fearing hypocritical male will be a second-class citizen. And all that progress we will have achieved since our founding will have been for naught. So, to those of you who, as I do, believe that this hate has got to go, please stand up for our rights. Show your legislators that you will not have them relegate large portions of the U.S. citizenry to the back seat. Whether you are fighting for women’s rights or gay rights, you are fighting for human rights. Please stand up and help us work toward a democratic society that is truly democratic, where all citizens – regardless of race, creed, religion, sex, sexual orientation, status, etc. – have the same equal and unalienable rights we deserve. Please register to vote, if you have not already done so. And when November comes around, vote for anyone who is willing to stand up for equal rights for all. It is the least we deserve.

I Wish...

I can't sleep, even though I'm exhausted, and sore, and really want to sleep, but my brain is apparently in denial about the need for rest. So instead of being asleep I'm sitting here at the computer waiting for the Ambien to kick in. So hi, how are you? I wish I were enthused about stuff again. I mean stuff other than my baby. I love her so much it hurts sometimes, and then I weep with joy. I also weep at almost anything involving babies now. It's kind of annoying, but since the source of it is my darling little one it's ok. But what I mean is that the reason I haven't been blogging is that things don't seem to be firing me up anymore. Politics just annoy me, and I hardly watch TV. Work has settled into something of a routine...well, as much of a routine as any Theatre gig can be. I need more money, but who doesn't? It's hot, but bitching about the weather is about as effective as Newt Gingrich's presidential campaign, and far more annoying. I'm fatter than I have ever been, and the reason is I sit around after the baby finally goes to sleep and surf the net and snack...again, not an interesting topic. And so it goes. So, dear readers, if, indeed, any of you are still out there, what shall I write about? I would love to start doing this again, but my muses have all fled in the face of diapers and midnight feedings. Oh, there is one bit of news, but it's not happy. Starbuck has been missing for two weeks now. He figured out that he could pop the screens out of the windows and get outside. I fought with him for several weeks, trying to come up with a way to keep him inside, yet not baking the house by closing all the windows. Alas, the persistence of felis domesticus retardensis wore me down and I got him vaccinated, and tagged, and showed him the doggie door in the back room. Now let me explain that it seems impossible to find a simple leather collar for a cat. They're all these nylon jobs in unnatural colors, and they all have a quick release clasp so moggie doesn't hang herself. Well I picked the collar with the tightest clasp and bejeweled it with his rabies vaccination bona fides and a tag laser etched with his name and address. I put these around his neck and showed him the back doggy door. He was so thrilled to be outside. He chased lizards, and generally lounged around, and within two days he had rid himself of the pesky collar. This was a Saturday night. He came in for his nightly helping of second dinner and that's the last we've seen of him. I keep hoping his walkabout is just a matter of him being unable to find his way home, and that eventually he'll catch a whiff of whatever I'm serving, and come running home. But every Starbuckless morning, and every fruitless trip to the local animal shelter(and if you ever want to be thoroughly depressed take a walk through the cages of one of those places) brings less and less of that hope that we'll see him again. And just for the record this is precisely the reason I don't like to let my cats go outside. Anywhoo, what's up with you? Marius

The New Star Trek

Back in 2008, when I started the Starbase 66 podcast, my cohosts and I talked a lot about the impending JJ Abrams Star Trek movie. I had grave doubts about it, yet gradually I warmed to the idea. Finally, a year later, the movie premiered, and at first I loved it. I even saw it four times in the theaters, a feat I had not achieved since high school. It was even the first Blu-ray I purchased. But in the intervening three years the blush has come off the rose, so to speak. I can't say I hate the movie, just nearly everything about it. I loathe the 'new' ship. I despise the uniforms. The hardware is cheap looking and obviously designed to look good in a box on a Wal-Mart shelf, and the inner workings of the Enterprise look exactly like what they were, a fucking brewery! And don't get me started on the lens flare and overly contrived plot devices. In fact the only thing that keeps me enamored of this film, and despite my above kvetching I do still love this film, is the performances. The actors totally saved Star Trek from out-sucking The Final Frontier and The Motion Picture combined. Sometimes you get a film, such as The Avengers, that becomes greater than the sum of its parts...this was not the case with Abram's Star Trek. Abrams seems to be the anti-Lucas. Lucas can direct an action sequence like almost no one else, but his work with people leaves much to be desired. Abrams is the opposite. Everything about his movies...in my opinion...is trite, yet he directs his actors with a dexterity and respect that makes the performances shine. Yet the overall effect, as seen in the snooze-inducing Super 8, is just meh...with lens flare. But, Marius, why are you revisiting this now? Well, I'm glad you asked. Lately the news feeds have been full of speculation, teases, hints, and interviews about the sequel to Star Trek 2009 which finished principal photography a couple of months ago. Abrams will be directing it again, and the original creative staff is on board as well. This has been filling me more and more with a sense of dread that has been made even worse by the severely disappointing Prometheus, of which Damon Lindelof was the executive producer and co-writer. He's also the producer on the Trek sequel and was the executive producer of Lost and Cowboys and Aliens. With the exception of Lost, which didn't do anything for me, that is not a promising pedigree. The first Trek reboot was saved by the actors, and by my enthusiasm to see the characters and worlds that I love reborn on the big screen. Now that the novelty is gone, I have serious doubts about what is to come. I hated hating Star Trek: The Motion Picture, and over the years have found my way to appreciating the good parts of it, and Star Trek V is still a stinging, open wound, but at its worst the original Trek films and shows are the companions of my youth, and I can forgive them their occasional offenses. But this new Trek, and Abrams attempts to make it more like Star Wars, is getting very close to making me loathe the thought of any more Star Trek being made. If it's just going to be a pale shadow of what we grew to love over the past 46 years, full of sound and fury, but signifying nothing, then I'd just as soon it rest in peace, and leave us to our memories.

Barrage of Cute

So, yeah, having a baby really saps your time, your strength, and your ability to speak in your normal voice. So rather than try to trump up some sort of half-baked bloggerific concoction of semi-digested thoughts and overly-hyphenated pseudo-word things, I figured I'd just inundate you lovely two or three who still read this with some pics and videos of the tiny creature that has totally taken over my life. Enjoy! And now some pics: Ok, I'm now going to wash bottles and hope her nap lasts long enough. Peace out, y'all. Marius

The Teacher Learns

Who'd have thunk that a little pink poop monster could teach me so much? For one thing I've learned, not surprisingly I suppose, that the only instinct humans are born with is knowing how to suck. Far too many people never let that one go. I've also learned that just like love and obscenity, disgusting is in the eye of the beholder. (and you may relax as I shall not elaborate on that) But the biggest thing I learned just the other day was something about myself. I used to be what they now call emo. My high school and college notebooks were filled with bad poetry, sappy sketches, and drippy prose about how I'd gladly march into the jaws of death for the young lady that was currently the object of my fancy. But as I've grown older, and less convinced of anything beyond this mortal coil, I find the notion of willingly grappling with the Grim Reaper anything but romantic. Then, the other day on the way home from work, I found myself wondering what I would do in a situation where I could only save Sharon by sacrificing myself, and I realized that I would do so without a moment's hesitation or regret. All those times in the past when I've told people 'I'd die for you' I only thought I meant it. I now know exactly what it feels like to truly mean it. It's a good feeling. Something else interesting happened last night. We all have reoccurring themes in our dreams, and one of the most disconcerting to me is when some supernatural force has created an invisible barrier that immobilizes me. I know that this is an artifact of the temporary paralysis we experience in our sleep that keeps us from physically acting out our dreams, but it's very unnerving. Last night the culprits were aliens, and it was a staircase that no one could go down. Only this time they took Sharon. And last night, for the first time in my life, I broke through that barrier. Of course as soon as I did that the dream shifted to me being Superman and flying around a city, but the important part is that my feelings for my little girl penetrate into my subconscious so much that even in my dreams they give me strength. It's very cool. Other than that things have been pretty quiet here in Castle Marius. The school year is over for me, so it's time to start doing things around the house and spending even more time with Sharon. What's up with you? Peace, Marius

Passivity Examined

Last month we broke up with our cable company. We were paying an outrageous amount of money each month, and after watching them offer everything but oral sex to new customers, while telling us to basically bend over when we tried to reduce our plan to something more reasonable, we said good bye. Now, for the first time since, oh, 1979, I don't have cable TV. It's weird, but not in a bad way. See now that we have a baby, and a new car payment, we needed to tighten the budget somewhere. We are not extravagant people, so most of our spending is necessary, but it became clear that every show that we follow on the old boob tube is available online, and most of them are free. So cable was the logical victim. So far I'm not missing it, though I think Mrs. Marius might be. I did just have a bit of an epiphany, though. Our television consumption has shifted from passive to active. It's strange to think of TV as anything but passive, but the simple act of watching a show online requires deliberate, albeit minor, action. We can no longer just turn on the box and become couch potatoes, mindlessly pressing the channel up button until something causes a couple of brain cells to fire and we stay there for a few minutes or more. Now we have to decide that it's time to watch X; we have to log in, find the web site that carries X, and then watch. Granted I'm not going to be monitoring my standing heart rate while downloading the latest Mythbusters from Amazon.com, but it does strike me as interesting that an activity that has for nearly a century been considered one of the least active things you can do, when coupled with a technology that takes passivity to a whole new level, you get a requirement of deliberateness. I think I just blew my own mind. Namaste, y'all. Marius

On Family

Yesterday was one of those Dickensian 'best of times/worst of times' kind of days, but before I get to that let me explain a bit about what family means to me. I am not unique in having two distinct families; the one I was born into, and the one I chose, but the chosen family is different to what most of y'all out there would recognize. I've told y'all about the SCA, the Medieval recreationist group I have dabbled with over the years, and many of you are part of my SCA family so this won't be news to you, but most of my extended family comes from that group. Familial ties sprout up in the SCA as a natural part of the creation of your persona, and as friends gravitate together and households get formed, the family structure makes a great deal of sense...although sometimes the metaphor can get a bit strained. For example concepts like incest tend to get ignored leading to sometimes strange statements like 'I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, and sister.' But even though it's all in good fun the emotional bonds we form with our family members are very real, and often last a lifetime. Now let's set the Way-Back machine to 1981. It was the height of my Dungeons and Dragons playing years, and my brother told me about a woman he knew who ran an awesome D&D game. I soon met Barbara for the first time, and became a regular at her table. She was quite a but older than us, but the age range of her regular players ran from my age and a bit younger, to people in their 30's, so it didn't seem the least bit strange. Her games were elaborate, rich with detail, and a blast to play, and it didn't take long before I was one of the regular cadre of folks that hung out at her place. Both she and her husband at the time were affiliated with the local police department, and she was the den mother of the men and women in blue in our town. During our D&D times we had often heard of the SCA, but in these pre-Internet days we had no idea how to track them down. Then I graduated high school and moved to Gainesville, Florida and went to the University of Florida. Shortly after I arrived I spied a flyer saying that the SCA would be doing a demonstration at the school soon, and my friend Adam and I eagerly attended. The beginnings of my SCA career were, to say the least, ignominious, but we shall leave that for another time. The important bit here is that I quickly acquired contact information for the branch back home, and sent that info with all speed to all my friends, including, of course, Barb. To encapsulate the events of the ensuing 30 years or so would take more time, kilobytes, and functioning brain cells than I have available at this time, but very soon Natasha(as Barb became known) became better and better known in the Kingdom, and as a first aid practitioner, or Chirugeon, she was one of the only people who knew the signs when I was in trouble on the lyst field and saved my ass on numerous occasions when the heat was just too much (she was rarely far away when I was in armor, as seen in the above pic. that's her behind me). I honestly can't recall how she became Matka, Russian for mother, to me, but it made so much sense that I never needed to question it. She has been my second mother for more than half of my life, and in some ways knows me better than my biological mom ever did. Now we are back to the present. Barb has had many health issues over the past few years, and one that will ultimately send her away from us, but there is no telling how soon that will happen. Could be today, could be next year. I was told about this when Mrs. Marius was about 6 months pregnant, and I told Barb in no uncertain terms that she was not to go anywhere until she got to meet her granddaughter. Well, yesterday that finally happened. We gathered up the kids and drove the 2 1/2 hours north to visit. Under any other circumstances I'd have waited for a free couple of days so we could have a leisurely visit, but due to work schedules and such we could only stay a couple of hours and then head back home. It was great to see Barb, and the rest of the family with whom she lives, but the drive home could only be described as hellish. The baby doesn't mind the car, but HATES her car seat, and the Child of the Apocalypse just hates everything these days, so the ride was less than fun. Then, once we got home at 9:30, the baby was wide awake, though I was exhausted. But, I'd do it all again to get these pictures:

So Matka, you know I love you and have for a very, very long time, and I am so grateful for having you in my life, and I'm even more grateful that you got to meet Sharon. Now you have to stick around til she's talking so you can tell her stories. (you didn't really think I was letting you go, did you?) :-) Your loving son, Marius

Landing Party Report

Captain's Log, stardate 1203.23, Captain Sharon E. Tetrault reporting. Readings indicate that this planet is perfect for pooping, spitting up, and prolonged playing. I am currently about to engage in a full scale sleeping experiment and will report further when it's bottle time.

Log out.

Vulnerability

When you tell the world that you're expecting the advise comes in a flood. Sometimes joking, "Ha ha, guess you'll be giving up sleeping." Sometimes serious, "Treasure the days when they're tiny, for they grow up so fast." In fact nearly everyone, parent or no, has something to warn you about, but I learned something tonight that no one mentioned, and it blindsided me. I was at the grocery store about an hour ago. It was near closing, and the store was relatively deserted. I was at the check-out and heard a child screaming over by the exit. Now a year ago I might not have even noticed that sound, but it totally grabbed my attention, though no one else seemed to notice. As soon as I gathered my purchases I moved toward the doors to see what was going on. A large woman had a small, maybe 3 or 4 year old boy by the hand, and he was doing the 'I don't want to do what you want me to do so I'm letting my legs go limp' thing that kids do. Again, a year ago if I had noticed this at all I'd have just assumed that the kid was being bratty, but not tonight. Tonight the scene filled me with terror as I wondered if things would look any different if the child was being taken by a stranger. Then I panicked as I imagined that boy was my Sharon. I watched a little while longer through the window of the store until I was sure she was, indeed, his mom, and as I was walking to my car I saw the boy with his father as well, but the whole affair really rattled me. No one tells you how vulnerable you are as a parent. Suddenly someone who is vastly, incredibly, infinitely more important in my life than I am is a primary concern of mine. You can knock me down, spit in my face, slander my name all over the place. Do anything that you want to do to me, but stay the fuck away from my kid...and the corollary of that being that I'm terrified because I can't protect her from everything. It's a sobering thought, and one that may take me a while to come to terms with.

In the meantime I intend to teach her to raise holy Hell if some stranger tries to take her from us.

Anyone know how young you can get a concealed carry permit in Florida?

Marius the Shaken.

The Time Has Finally Arrived

Poop long, and prosper.

:-)