April 17, 2012 Why Being a Grown Man and Excited About Men in Tights is Okay
My wife has no use whatsoever for superheroes. Despite that, she’s agreed to attend the Marvel Movie Marathon with me and a couple of our friends on May 3rd. Six movies. Fourteen hours. The last movie we’ll be seeing? The Avengers, at midnight. Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Hawkeye, Black Widow and Nick Fury, all in one movie. With my wife. I wish I could go back in time and tell 8-year-old me that this was actually happening.
Or 16-year-old me.
Or 20-year-old me.
Or 28-year-old me.
Or me from last fall.
Once I got into the comic book buying habit, I never really grew out of it. Sure, there have been hard financial times when I’ve had to set the habit aside for a bit, or times, like now, when the price of a single comic book is not justified by the amount and quality of content inside (I prefer to purchase collected editions or “graphic novels”), but I’m always reading comics. And, yeah, I’m usually reading about superheroes.
I am not an overgrown child trapped in a child’s body. The stereotype of the 30-year-old arrested adolescent living in his mother’s basement, picking Cheetos out of the beard he thinks makes him look older and playing video games while debating disembodied mouth breathers over a headset during online Halo games about whether or not Batman’s 1950′s adventures with their sci-fi trappings can be squared with the persona of the “Dark Knight” is, unfortunately, based on some all-too-real individuals. But they’re not as numerous as most people think.
Most geeks or superhero fans have a steady job, a spouse and kids. Or they at least aspire to some combination of the three. Many are college-educated and can hold real conversations. You may be tempted to stare at their chests and wonder at the magnificent shield of Captain America screenprinted upon it, but–hey now–their eyes are up here.
A grown man with a love for men in primary-colored tights is ridiculous on its face, but only if you reductively describe the passion as such. What it’s really all about, at least for me, is the simple power of great imagination in the service of telling a story of good triumphing over evil.
My worldview is reinforced and stuff gets smashed. That is never not going to be entertaining.
So, in a couple of weeks, I’ll put my love to the test and plant my butt in a seat for 14 hours and see just how much awesome I can take. I’ll also put my other love to the test. I hope she likes Thor as much as I do.*
Like superheroes? Hate ‘em? Love to hear your reasons why or why not.
*I seem to be the only person on Earth who understands that Thor is the best of the Marvel movies. So far, anyway.
Like this:
Tags: batman, black widow, captain america, comics, graphic novels, hawkeye, hollywood, hulk, iron man, marvel comics, movie marathon, movies, nick fury, playing video games, reading comics, superheroes, the avengers, thor, wife erin
- 15 comments
- Posted under Comics, Life Stories, Movies, Personal, Pop Culture
April 10, 2012 Holocaust Remembrance Day (and Other Funny Cartoons)
I wonder constantly how my children process this world they’ve been born into. I feel very in touch with my own childhood perspective, but my kids are not me. Our oldest, Elora (9), has my penchant for sarcasm and big words, but she’s much more self-assured and creative than I was. She sees everything as an art project.
Here’s her latest (click to enlarge):
To me, a calendar tells me what day it is. To Elora, it’s an opportunity to highlight the things that are most important to her and illustrate her life. April Fool’s Day gets a “ha ha!” Earth Day gets a drawing of the Earth with what looks like little kids around it. And Holocaust Remembrance Day gets…
Wait, what is that? Let’s take a closer look:
Confused, this morning I asked Elora what she had drawn. We’ve talked about Hitler and the Nazis before after watching some Twilight Zone episodes, but I couldn’t remember ever talking to her about the Holocaust. Judging by the thought bubble in the drawing, it looked to me like she’d worked out that April 19th is a day for pondering. What’s more, the sad, downcast face of the girl in the picture seemed to indicate that Elora had some idea that this wasn’t the day for thinking happy thoughts.
But what’s in the thought bubble? To me, it looked like a hole and a person about to jump into it. Elora set me straight.
“It’s a little kid playing kickball.”
“What?” I asked. “Why?”
“Because that’s what we did that day at school when I drew it.”
Basically, she had no clue what the Holocaust was and filled in the blank with the first thing that popped across her mind, effectively making Holocaust Remembrance Day into that day when we reflect sadly upon the tragedy of lost kickball games.
I explained to her what the Holocaust actually is and, knowing Hitler to be a pretty messed up dude, she accepted it without surprise and got dressed for school.
What strange thought avenues did your childhood filter lead you to? I remember seeing the blinking red light of a jet plane in the night sky on Christmas Eve and being convinced it was Rudolph. Took me years to work through that one. Got one of your own?
Tags: april fool's, calendar, earth day, elora, hello kitty, hitler and the nazis, holocaust remembrance day, illustration, kickball, lens of childhood, rudolph, twilight zone episodes
- 8 comments
- Posted under Family, Life Stories
April 5, 2012 Why It is Not Good for Man to Be Alone (Or At Least Me)
Why does she ever leave me alone?
Why did I get married? Because I’m a loss as a human being by myself.
Two of our girls went out of town with their grandparents last weekend and Erin took the baby down to the LA area to pick them up on Monday. I wanted to go with them, but I had work. This left me alone in the house for almost two full days.
This is never a good idea.
Whenever I’m left to my own devices, I have one thought and one thought only. Well, two thoughts: I must get seafood as quickly as possible (Erin is allergic) and I can turn up the surround sound as loud as I want.
The surround sound is actually not as much fun as it used to be. I’ve grown so accustomed to turning it down for sleeping babies that now it sounds obnoxious when I turn it up to THE TRANSFORMER IS IN MY LIVING ROOM! levels.
But seafood… ohhhh seafood. It’s my favorite food and it is never served in our home. Unfortunately, there are precious few seafood places near where I live and my favorite is about 40 miles away. (For you locals, it’s Crab Cakes in Oakhurst. That’s right, Oakhurst.) I couldn’t justify driving that far with today’s gas prices and my lead foot.
I chose West Coast Fish ‘N’ Chips instead. Fast food seafood, but it’s a short mile from my house and pretty good if you like deep fried and going way, way off diet.
I pulled up, noticed all the lights were off. I got out of the car, walked up to the door and sure enough: CLOSED. It was 6pm. They close at 2:30 on Mondays. As a character in a movie currently on heavy rotation in my house would say, What the Wocka!?
I got back in the car and drove to “Old Town” where most of the locally-based eateries are. This is when a wife would have really come in handy.
I drove up and down the streets trying to figure out what, besides seafood, sounded good to me. I couldn’t make up my mind. My wife always yells at me for taking forever in the 7-11 trying to figure out which candy bar to buy. She is absolutely right to do this as I feel that picking the right candy bar is one of the very most important decisions a human being can make, so I take my time. Now, I was looking for an entire meal. Only the President trying to decide whether to bomb Iraq could possibly understand the depth of conflict within me as I drove and considered and weighed each dining possibility in my mind.
At one point, I ducked into a Vietnamese restaurant to check out their menu. I’ve never had Vietnamese food. Turns out, all they serve is soup. Noodles in soup. Rice in soup. Beef in soup.
I DIDN’T WANT SOUP.
A full hour went by. A. Full. Hour. I still hadn’t made up my mind. Erin would have long since made me pull off the road and forced me to eat at Wendy’s. And I probably would have been fine with it.
Not knowing what else to do, I finally settled on Chinese food at a small Japanese restaurant (yeah, I don’t get that either) I’d never tried before. I ordered way too much food, and none of it seafood. But at least it was good.
And it only cost me $8 and an hour and a half of my life.
Are you married? What bad habits do you fall into when you’re all alone?
Like this:
Tags: 7-11, crab cakes restaurant, food, indecision, iraq, man without woman, oakhurst, personal story, seafood, surround sound, the muppets, transformers, vietnamese food, wendy's, west coast fish 'n' chips, wife erin
- 8 comments
- Posted under Family, Life Stories
April 3, 2012 I Have Been Nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award?
Well, well, well. Look who got nominated for an award! Sort of. Near as I can tell, this is more of an honorary nomination for a prize that does not exist and has no winners. Yes, I’m as confused as you. Still, I’m pleased and humbled as punch that Sarah Baughman nominated for a Versatile Blogger Award. Do right by yourself and check out her blog on life, writing and parenting in unusual circumstances (overseas!).
Accepting the Versatile Blogger Award requires the following:
1. Thank the award-givers and link back to them in your post.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass this award along.
4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award.
Following Rule #2, her are seven (monumentally important) facts about myself.
1. I eat popcorn just about every night. Since scientists recently discovered that popcorn is the most healthy food on the ENTIRE PLANET, this makes me healthier than 95% of the people on Earth.
2. I used to be fluent in Spanish. What little I can still speak sounds pretty good though. I’ve been told (by a live, actual Mexican!) that I don’t have an American accent when I speak it.
3. I once told a girl her dress looked like a picnic table. This was a mistake.
4. I have mild scoliosis. As an old man, I suspect I’ll have severe arched back.
5. I have crashed a car and been dumped by a girl all in one night, in that order.
6. I have successfully turned my wife on to a few sci-fi shows like LOST and Battlestar Galactica, but I have yet to enjoy one movie with Sarah Jessica Parker in it (excepting Flight of the Navigator, of course).
7. I grew up with three brothers and no sisters. I now have three daughters. Some call that karma. I call it a nice change of pace.
I will now pass the Versatile Blogger Award on to seven people whose entertaining, well-written blogs convey versatility and talent! They are, in no particular order:
Kristen Lamb of Kristen Lamb’s Blog is my go-to person for all information about current literary practices and how to integrate social media into the author’s online experience. The best part is that her approach is filled with humor and analogies and all those writerly things I love so much.
Angie Mizzell has a heckuva story to share and she’s not just doing it in her in-progress memoir. A former television journalist, she’s now a happy mom exploring the challenges of a life repurposed. Warm and insightful, she will enrich your life. I guarantee it.
Wes Molebash at Wes Draws! is, like me, a cartoonist who has made his way into blogging. The difference is, Wes still keeps his focus on drawing along with his other interests. I always love seeing what Wes is up to and I love the updates on the graphic novel he’s working on.
Shelli Johnson is a self-published success story and an ace blogger who covers the tricky world of being a writer with insight and solid observation. Read her now, thank me later.
Check ‘em all out. Enjoy!
Tags: angie mizzell, battlestar galactica, blogger award, flight of the navigator, kristen lamb, lost, popcorn, sarah jessica parker, shelli johnson, spanish, wes molebash
- 15 comments
- Posted under On Writing, Personal
March 29, 2012 Sports
I have an antagonistic relationship with sports. My dad was a star pitcher in high school, a brown belt in Karate and coached a Little League team. I liked to draw and not sweat. As his oldest boy, I couldn’t have been anything less than a disappointment, but he was good about not making me feel like one.
I let Dad take me to an Oakland A’s game once because it was in San Francisco and I knew I’d get a hot dog. As far as I was concerned, the only downside to the event was the actual game itself. I knew from Dad’s constant commandeering of the TV that pro baseball games were a lot like golf (and golf, as everyone knows, is boring)—lots of people standing around waiting for a guy to hit a ball with a big stick. The only real difference between the two is that chasing the ball down after the hit involves carts in golf, and running in baseball. Baseball is essentially golf with a track and field component.
At that particular A’s game, Rickey Henderson set a new record for the number of bases stolen over a career. He neither hit the ball nor threw it. Instead, everyone applauded him for running away from the ball a lot successfully. I fell asleep shortly thereafter.
I played two seasons of Soccer when I was in the lower grades, but I didn’t enjoy the experience. The ball seemed to always be gunning for me, and the number of hits I took to the crotch confirmed I wasn’t being paranoid. Really, I should have been grateful. The alternative to being waylaid by the attempted murder of my burgeoning manhood was running back and forth and back and forth across the field. Because someone had decided that soccer is a winter sport, this was unpleasant. Only heavy wheezing and cold, stabbing air through my lungs could make me long for the times after the big hits when I was stuck on the sidelines, holding my breath and doing my best to keep my groin from falling apart.
Now, I’m married and my disdain for sports is a huge asset. My wife also grew up in a house where crowd noise from the television was more common than silence. Since neither one of us watches sports, you’re more likely to hear conversation or the news or (more recently) songs about not biting your friends (thank you, Yo Gabba Gabba). Not saying this is better than sports noise, but it’s better for us.
My aversion to sports can sometimes make it difficult to engage in conversation with my male peers. Thankfully, Star Wars. That seems to be universal. When I meet women who are into sports it weirds me out–I always think they’re lying. I think of females as the sensible sex and when one of them goes off the Reservation like that it really messes with my head.
I understand the point of sports, I think. It builds character. It’s good exercise and teaches you about teamwork and pushes you to achieve more than you thought possible.
I don’t know. I don’t think any of that explains bowling.
Must all males enjoy sports? Also, what can we do about the females who join them? Island or Asylum? Weigh in below!
Tags: baseball, bowling, crowd noise, dad, golf, oakland a's, rickey henderson, soccer, sports, star wars, wife erin, yo gabba gabba
- 17 comments
- Posted under Family, Life Stories, Personal
March 27, 2012 Being the Parent of a Nonverbal Child
An hour after I’d put her down for the night, Cami started thrashing and wailing on her bedroom floor. I knew that cry. It was the no-frickin’-way-am-I-going-to-sleep-because-my-world-is-ending cry. This cry is distinguished by its ability to travel the entire length of the house and reach my wife and me in the living room even while the TV is on.
I went in to see what was the matter. Cami sat up, tears streaming down her face, and calmed down instantly. She pointed upwards and uttered one, sweet, unintelligible syllable. When I couldn’t understand and didn’t respond properly, she repeated the movement and sound. I told her I didn’t know what she was trying to say. She did it again. And again.
And again.
Cami just turned 7. In some ways, I feel like I barely know her. In her eyes and her embrace, I can see her heart. But her mind? How she perceives the world? I have no idea. Thoughts are best communicated with language. Cami can sign a few words and say a few more, but that’s it. There’s not enough tools in her kit.
I think she’s said “Dada” a few times, but I’m not really sure. Same for “Mama.” “Hi” is her favorite and clearest word. She makes lots of other sounds that don’t sound anything like actual words. She certainly seems to think she’s saying something, but it’s all gibberish.
And her range is limited. Forget the question of what her brain can process (no one knows the answer anyway), evidence suggests that many sounds are simply beyond her physical capabilities. For example, she’s never made any “T” or “K” or “M” sounds. Surely, for all her babbling, she would have stumbled on those at some point. But she doesn’t.
Erin and I have both had dreams where Cami could talk normally. Those are both wonderful and heartbreaking because we always wake up. Our beliefs allow for the idea that one day, in the next life, we will have long conversations with her. We always imagine her first words to us will be “Thank you.” We both work so very hard to be worthy of that moment.
I don’t want to get stupid about this and admonish every parent out there to take the time to appreciate the fact that their child can talk to them. What good does that do? My wife and I also have two typically developing kids and I know there’s a burden there as well. When your kid can talk, you spend a lot of time telling them to shut up. Kids can be so noisy.
But not Cami. If the past seven years are any indication, Cami will never use profanity. She’ll never lie. She’ll never tell us she hates us. Sometimes, I think she’s got it all figured out. Cami uses hugs, not words.
I finally brought Cami out into the living room. She still pointed skyward and uttered that syllable. I still scratched my head. What did she mean?
We went back through her nightly routine. She watched some TV, had a snack and drank some water. I never figured out what she wanted, but she was satisfied. She gave me a hug and went right to sleep in her bed afterwards. She had done her best to tell me what was wrong and I had done my best to satisfy her needs as best I knew how.
I guess that’s enough.
Like this:
Tags: cami, family, gibberish, nightly routine, nonverbal, parenting, physical capabilities, special needs, wife erin
- 14 comments
- Posted under Family, Life Stories
