Because I'm That Cheap

Disney has great theme parks, cool urban legends about the frozen head of Uncle Walt and it's super-friendly.

Apparently, though, the theme park can't make it financially without charging ten bucks a day for Internet connection.

So, I'll be back July 2.

Kin

"Hi, I'm Marc," I said as I strapped the seat belt on.

The guy glanced my way--it was barely a glance, but it qualified--and raised an eyebrow. Nothing more, just that small acknowledgement that really meant he had no real interest in getting to know me. So, I pulled out a newspaper and pretended to read.

I knew at that moment it was gonna be a long, long flight.

And it was just that. More than an hour delay on the tarmac, several hours in the air en route to the deep south and not one freaking word from Mr. Sunshine in 4A.

I really enjoy traveling, especially when I'm able to spend time people watching. And airports are great places to watch folks. You can learn a lot about a person while watching how they cope with distress, and how they treat other people. Most travelers ignore others, pretending that anyone outside their personal bubble doesn't exist. Too wrapped up in personal drama, people simply want to be left alone. Relationships--even ones that are brief--require too much of an investment for people. It's just easier to isolate one's self.

Except if you're a West Virginian.

"You going home?" the guy behind me asked, leaning forward to talk. He couldn't have had a clue if I was coming or going, but something in my affect gave it away.

"I am. It's been a long day and this is my last connection, into Charleston."

There was something different about this plane full of people traveling from Cincinnati to West Virginia. There was an exciting energy in the air; people were talking back and forth about the towns they live in, and the friends they had in common. It was as if these strangers were family who hadn't seen each other in years, and were becoming reacquainted.

It's like we were kin.

"Going home's the best part of traveling, eh?" he asked. I smiled and nodded.

It certainly is.

It's More Than A State Of Mind

For the first time in my life, I have a legitimate sports injury.While playing basketball two weeks ago, I got caught somewhere between setting a screen--a helluva hard screen, I'll add--and breaking toward the basket for a backdoor pass.

Now, hitting the lane quick and taking the rock to the hole was pretty easy in my teens and twenties. And I still have the skills to get it done ...in my head, at least. But, it seems the move I planned to make (and which was so seamless in my head) can no longer be replicated in a real life experience.

'Cause I'm old.

As I pivoted to the basket and raised my hand for the ball I heard and felt a small "pop." My left knee felt sore a bit later but I played on, chalking it up to the typical aches and pains that occur when a 42 year old thinks he can play basketball with guys a whole lot younger.

The next day, I couldn't walk up or down the stairs. Seems I've torn a meniscus.

Add this to the Social Security update I recieved in the mail this week, and my mood is fairly obvious.

Notes On A Scandal

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

It Couldn't Have Been Worse

I freakin' hate Green Lantern.

First of all, his ring was supposed to find the one man on Earth who was fearless, and worthy of it's power. It picked test pilot Hal Jordan, completely ignoring people like Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent who, for large chunks of their day, carried out feats of heroism.

There were no amendments in the Corps. handbook that called for the omission of "fearless humans other than those already engaged in superhero-dom."

Secondly, the ring--which is supposed to be the most powerful weapon in the universe--has been used mostly to conjure up giant green power-drills and bubbles in which non-flying comrades could be carried by GL as he flew them to a mission.

What a waste...

So, when I took the Which Superhero Are You? quiz while visiting the DC Comictician site, I was more than disappointed in the results.

"Your results:
You are Green Lantern"

I wanna be The Batman!!

Check it out yourownself.
Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

Paranoid? I Ain't Scared A-Nobody!

I used to play high school sports with a kid named Rick who was, without a doubt, one of the most paranoid people I've ever met. That word gets used too lightly these days, and should be reserved for serious bouts of He's-Talkin'-About-Me-itis. But the term worked with Rick.

He was that paranoid.

And because he was that paranoid, other kids taunted him. Once they realized that every side glance, smirk and whisper would cause him discomfort they were like sharks. Every day, all the time. Snide comments, loud whispers to others in the locker room, raised eyebrows: all designed to cause Rick to freak out and blow a gasket.

He did just that on occasion, although I'm never sure he knew exactly what paranoid really meant. Once, after a kid teased him, Rick threw the biggest tantrum ever. The kid, who became kinda scared at the outburst, yelled: "Jeez, why are you so paranoid." Rick answered:

"Paranoid? I ain't scared a-nobody!"

Then, he punched the wall.

I don't know what happened to Rick after graduation. I do hope, however, that he found some peace in his life.

I consider myself more hyper-observant than paranoid. Always have been so inclined, but particularly during my adulthood. Being that aware of small things that go on around you is more of a curse than it is a blessing. Hyper-observant folks tend to notice behavioral trends that other people overlook. Habits, routines and tics that stand out in dramatic fashion, regardless of how subtle the context.

The biggest curse of being hyper-observant, though, is presuming one's own trends and tics are equally obvious and apparent to everyone else. Although I suspect it's an incorrect assumption, it seems logical that if the ability to notice things comes so easily to me, it must be common for others too.

No matter how many times I say to myself: "She didn't notice that I did that," I really do think that she did.

For example:

1. I sometimes wear the same pair of pants two days in a row.

I don't have to do that; I have plenty of pants from which to choose. But sometimes when I get home and change I realize my pants aren't dirty. Maybe I didn't move from my desk all day. For whatever the reason, sometimes my pants are clean. So, when that happens I fold them nicely and set them aside to wear again with a different shirt on the next day. While that's something I'd spot others doing, no one has ever called me on it. So, I'm not sure they notice.

2. I talk funny.

I do. I've been told that by people who love me, so I'm sure it's true. And I realize it, sometimes. I seem to have an aversion to using verbal contractions, and on occasion will speak in song lyrics or metaphors. It's about the rhythm, I think. There seems to be a constant, natural cadence in my head, and I adhere to it most of the time.

I do sometimes try to use current language trends in everyday language, just to fit in. But it never comes out right. Not long ago I was talking to a person who was very upset with a friend, to the point of anger. He was venting to me, and venting hard. As he finished his rant, he paused, during which I commented:

"Damn, that's whack! You should get all up in his grill."

"What?" he said.

I gulped.

"I said damn, that sucks. Sorry that happened." His reply?

"Oh..."

No one--and I mean no one!-- sounds cool and hip when they have to repeat the attempt.

3.I rarely look people in the eyes.

I don't avoid eye contact because I'm telling a lie. I avoid it for two reasons: First, it's rather uncomfortable for me. I'm not sure why, but it is. So much so that extended eye contact during conversation will cause me to be discombobulated. Second, I stare off into the horizon or against the wall behind you while we talk because I'm visualizing things you are saying. I think very visually, and need to conjure up images of what I'm trying to express.

I can't count the number of times I've talked to people who, as they notice me staring over their left shoulders, think someone is standing behind them. Just this week I had a fifteen minute conversation with a new co-worker who, as we talked, kept looking behind her. She was noticing my eyes drifting to her left, and thought someone was walking up behind her. I had to offer an explanation that ultimately sounded just plain goofy.

4. I am often mesmerized by things small and trivial.

I'm a pretty good multi-task-er, until I see something shiny that catches my attention. Several years ago some artist in Flash comics used a new visual technique to show super-speed. It was amazing, and I thought about that technique for days. I even talked to people about how cool it was, even though I knew they didn't really care. They humored me, and I knew it. But I was obsessed.

5. I walk in a constant rhythm.

See number 2.

When I walk, I count my steps. I'm not sure why, but I do. In multiples of 7's, mostly. On the sidewalk, up the stairs, down the hallway: it doesn't matter. If I'm walking, I'm counting in my head. So, there is a natural rhythm that comes with it. It's likely a stress reducer that I stumbled upon accidentally years ago but it's always there, even when I don't notice it.

Well, that felt kinda good to purge...

I really do wonder from time to time about how Rick's life turned out. He was a stand-up guy, mostly, and he was pretty decent to me. I never taunted him back in the day. First, it's not my style to do that.

But more than that, I understood.

C'mon, It'll Be Fun

Take a moment and check out DC Comictician on Star Trekiology. It's incredibly creative, and really an interesting read. Be sure and check out the post about why the blog exists in the first place. It's a prerequisite.

Apocalypto

The red envelope arrived Thursday.

"I can't watch this," I told her. She asked why.


'Cause I promised myself I wouldn't. Don't you remember the anti-Jewish, sugar-tits rant the guy went on last summer?"

"Send it back," she said.

So I did.

Surf's Up

Originally, the kids and I had planned to see Shrek The Third.

They--and I--really liked the first two, and they were eager to see Eddie Murphy's donkey character make for some more funny.

But, I talked them into surfing penguins.

"Surf's Up looks pretty cool," I said. ' Watching a penguin waddle when it walks always makes us chuckle, so a surfboarding penguin will really make us laugh."

They gave in pretty easily. They are only 6 and 4 years of age, after all.

I didn't even have to move on to my other points of debate: (a) That using the voice of Jeff Bridges as the surf-guru Big Z was inspired casting, designed to capitalize on his character from The Big Lebowski, and (b) I've seen the trailer for Surf's Up at least five other times, and I've been eager to see it for months.

No kids in short pants were gonna keep my outta that theater!

Surf's Up tells the story of young penguin Cody Maverick who, when he was very young, met penguin surf-boarding legend Big Z. The meeting affected Cody dramatically; his life became devoted to being like Big Z. Living in the moment, and enjoying the waves. After Big Z apparently dies in a surfing accident a Big Z Surfing Memorial is established, and Cody sets his sights on winning that tournament.

Winning it will honor his hero, and it will help him escape Antarctica, which he desperately wants to leave.

The computer animation that created Surf's Up is the best I've ever seen. Most times what was depicted on the screen looked real. It really is remarkable. And the story is told in a unique way for an animated film designed for children. It's told in a reality show, documentary style. That means there are cut-away interviews, occasional interactions with producers off camera, and dialogue that seems real between the characters.

While I enjoyed it a lot, I'm not sure that the kids in the audience got it. Most seemed to have some difficulty following the story in this format, and at times seemed bored. A saving grace, however, is that the word poop is used at least three times in the film.

That makes any kid, whether 4 or 42, laugh hard.

Blood Diamond

Quick: Name the 2007 Best Supporting Actor Academy Award Winner.

I had to look it up, too.

While I have no quarrel with Alan Arkin's win--I thought he was terrific in Little Miss Sunshine--Djimon Hounsou's work in Blood Diamond is remarkable.

Maybe the role of a lifetime.

Hounsou's Solomon Vandy is a fisherman and father living in civil-war torn Africa in the early 1990's. As was--and still is--all too common, his life is disrupted when his community is invaded by rebels: his son is kidnapped and forced to be a child-soldier, while his wife and another child become lost in the confusion.

After discovering, and hiding, a rather large and incredibly rare diamond, Vandy finds himself surrounded by lots of folks who agree to help him find his family so they can get close to the diamond. Danny Archer (played by Leonardo DiCaprio), a former soldier-turned-diamond-smuggler among them.

DiCaprio's acting is fine in the film, but it's overshadowed by the performance of Hounsou. The supporting actor allows the viewer to share the experience as he searches for his missing son, dodging military personnel, rebels and greedy bastards (read Archer) along the way.

Blood Diamond is a very good movie. Djimon Hounsou, though, made it great.