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On a day when Aaron Rodgers spun UFO tales and the Giants formed a select committee to learn how they can stop blowing late fourth quarter leads, I figure it might be time for another waiver wire. I might also have nothing else relevant to cast into the digiverse. I’ve grown a bit frustrated with football. I find more pleasure and competition in the wild games of my 8u tackle team than in what is about to happen in the NFL. I mean, they moved the touchback to the 25 to limit kick return attempts. Really? The safety of the game is important, but there are other ways to make the game safe than taking away the opportunity to play it.

My kid wears armor. I don’t honestly think it is enough and I regret not getting a kinetics and a material sciences degree so that I can be the guy who makes the better armor. I understand the basic principles, mind you, but I do not have the knowledge to actually build a safer football suit. That suit would need to start with reactive armor–perhaps an ablative gel that redirects the force back away from the impact zone. Of course that thinking means that the force would be bouncing back and forth between the hitter and the target. Now if there were a diffusion cell available to release the shock into the air like the diagrams of a gauss rifle then we would have something. All of this is possible and actually within scientific probability if there was enough money in the fix to make it worthwhile. There really isn’t.

I don’t know why the league is not interested in making these players invincible. Given the amount of money thrown into player salaries one has to wonder why the players are not being provided with proper protection. I haven’t seen concussion as of yet, but I know that film posited a theory about the whole thing…

I’m babbling at this point. again.

I remain convinced that there is simply no need for a 24 hr news cycle, and further convinced that such a cycle creates such a swell of fear (especially in the American populace) that it is detrimental to our collective culture. I’m out on the news media. They have become more concerned with making sure that people are watching than they have with finding something legitimate and helpful to say. In my opinion, it is only going to get worse.

The easiest way to tell the media is out to get your viewership is to look at their promos. What fallacies are being employed? It is usually fear. ‘What is in your water and are you in danger from it? Find out at 11.’ Lets be real for a minute. If you were in immediate danger from your water, they would cut into whatever you were watching and tell you. They wouldn’t make you wait until 11 and then bury the piece halfway through the broadcast, so you’ve watched long enough for Nielson’s spies to count you as ‘in’. None of that has the smell of a news media operating in your best interests. Instead the media opts to tell the stories that will get people watching. They scare us and paint the world as constantly being on the brink of war or famine or drought. Once in a while–usually on holidays–they’ll drop a ray of sunlight into the segment, just to switch things up.

The media is open about this. Les Moonves, the defacto head of CBS praised Trump’s media coverage as being ‘Damn good for business’. Les did not say he was good for the country. He said the opposite in fact.

The point is, the media is not on our side. A policy of fear and shock and showmanship has turned real news into a circus and we are left to watch the performers and never really know what is really going on.

I cannot believe I am in countdown mode but there are only 8 weeks left in my semester. I get some time off then and follow that up with an opportunity to teach classes online–classes that can readily be taught from the beach. I gotta get better internet first, of course. That’s another post. This one is about the relief I have knowing that this semester nears its conclusion. I gotta be honest, this one is breaking me in new ways. I, once a champion of dev ed, have become wildly cynical and more than a little angry in regards to the rampant disrespect foisted on me by the dev students in particular and the majority of classes in general.

Yep, rant warning.

The problem is that I continue to care quite a bit more than everyone else in the room. This is not how it should be but is clearly how it is most of the time. The one exception would be the novel classes where the students want to be there as much as I do and there is (or appears to be) a mutual respect there. In the case of dev that respect for me, for each other, for the learning doesn’t exist. I spend more time reminding them not to talk when others are talking than I do delivering content. Its a problem. It is one that forced me to build in a military-esque structure to that class, one in which there are structured writing prompts and response points throughout each period that drive students through a single essay. Yeah there is some good to that but there is as much bad, especially when you think about creativity. That is lost in the lock step of the thing.

This morning I learned a friend died. This did not sit well with me, so I retreated into the comfort of a bottle of Fiction Wine. I’d been up late binge watching Daredevil the night before and spent yesterday afternoon literally standing in the sun for hours. Not helping matters, my boys decided to wake up pre-dawn and required my attention. So, when I sat down with my wine I didn’t last long.

That brings me to now. Its early evening and I’ve been awake a little bit and accomplished nothing. My mood has skidded downward and I’m well aware of having failed someone close to me today simply by not being myself and not being available. Missteps are critical in life and it only takes a few to land in the proverbial doghouse of life. At some point you gotta learn to swallow hard and just do what you ought to. For me that means handling my stuff on the front end and not letting so much get to me that I wind up terribly far behind.

 

Some Thoughts:

1. I’ve been playing with my boys a lot less than I used to. So much so that it is noticeable. I don’t like it. They come home and in that first hour I’m usually letting them do their thing while I rest or handle chores X,Y, or Z.
2. Part of being a good coach is adjusting to what is happening in-game. In fact, there are multiple components to being a good coach that I think require attention in the form of a blog or at least a thought, but today I am thinking about adjustments. I’m not good at them. This is a new revelation. If I get overwhelmed I freeze up and go to my wheelhouse, which is usually not working and why I froze up. In other words, I am the anti-Belicheck. This must be rectified immediately.
3. Losing your hair is genetic in part, but a greater portion of that is stress. I’m losing my hair.
4. The next number is because someone likes when I do it…

I’ve said a million times that super hero stories are really just versions of the Hero’s Journey. As such the best superhero stories tend to be origin stories. Superman, Deadpool, Batman (Nolan’s series was the entire hero’s journey in three parts). The stories we love are the ones that tell us how the characters ‘became’. Look at Avengers 1 vs. Avengers 2. The second one was a bloody let down. I won’t even go into the third Iron Man. The second? An origin story for War Machine, of course. Which brings me to Darevil. The first season was magnificent. It was dark, and brooding, and perfect. Not once did I stop to say (or even think for a second) I’m not sure I’m totally behind this show. I mean, hell, I did that daily through the first season of Agents of Shield. Season 2 is very good. Stupid good. Take everything I like about Daredevil, sex it up a bit and then gimmie a extra helping of ridiculous supporting actor work. I’ll take two, please.

Season 2 is a couple of origin stories. We get to meet Elektra and we get to meet the Punisher–even learning how he came by that name and trademark skull (the moment is so good). What continues to surprise me about this show is how hard they work to move past female lead as sex object. I mean, its a comic story so there is going to be a good amount of that, but they make the female characters powerful, manipulative, and driven–a combination that keeps me wanting more.

I want more. I’m not done yet but my eyes are red and my mind is racing to learn how they’ve played with ancient marvel structures to make them new and relevant again. It is becoming relevant and becoming fun to be a comic book fan. I’m excited for more episodes and more shows like this. Marvel on the small screen has proven to be even better than its latest batch of big screen bullheadedness. I’m certain Civil War and the next few movies after will change that, but for now, I’m about Marvel from the comfort of my couch and in the dark where the devil does his work.

So you think you’re done for the night. You’re well into your third episode of Daredevil, red-eyed and binge happy. You move this party from the living room to the bedroom thinking, maybe one more episode and i’ll call it a night. Why not? You wrote a bunch today; progress on the project is behind but manageable and after today it ought to be back on track in another two. The kids are asleep, the pets are fed, the house is, well, still dirty but you earned the rest.

Then suddenly you remember you didn’t put in your ten.

So, here you are. You slide out the laptop, flip it open to a blank webpage, type the familiar sequence, and… The words are harder lately. That’s one of the problems with working on one type of thing exclusively for a long time. Myopia is a real thing that affects writers long before they realize what is happening. Sure, they start to build a kind of rhythm doing A, but B,C,D is for crap. So you take a deep breath and think about what you want to say that isn’t what you’re writing now. Sadly, there isn’t much. Time to recharge the batteries. Binge watch something different. Read something obscure. Find a couple of words you haven’t touched in years. Find a few you haven’t touched at all.

Being a writer–a thinker–is about stretching the limits of what you know and understand. It is about being willing to see every perspective and find the good and the bad in all of them. Sounds like the life to live.

At this point you can track what time of night I post based on how short it is and how incoherent. There are more than enough points of data to prove that I shouldn’t effort to write at night but here I am again, trying to write at night and discovering how much that doesn’t work. As a (newly reformed) planner I think any future plan ought to account for that. See, the act of creation requires a great deal more activation energy than say grading a paper or prepping a lesson. I can do those things at night, but trying to design a first contact strategy for an insectoid alien species that lives in a fragile ecosystem? No, that is some daytime drama right there. This, therefore, becomes another reason why I am happy. 41 years in and I’m living a life that allows me to set a schedule that works for me.

Yep, 41. That is the real issue at play here. Around this time last year I was 40 and now I’m not. What do I have to show for it? Quite a bit of knowledge gained. I’d love to suggest that knowledge gained is relative to speed lost but there is no correlation. In fact, I feel like I’ve lost some plasticity in the brain, just through daily wear and tear multiplied by 15,000+ days.

A friend who is up past me in years just recently explained how he intends to get down below 10% body fat. He’s a beast. He’s an inspiration. I am no less lazy than I was a year ago and perhaps more given the plasticity issue. However, I feel that need more now than ever and as I age I feel that desire to do something impactful more and more.

So, yeah. I’m getting organized and scheduled again and I’m getting off the couch. It is about that time.

On the eve of St Patrick’s day I went back to the age old formula of structuring time for writing. I cannot explain why I walked away from this type of thing for so long. I can make the excuse that there were (and continue to be) so many things going on in my life that it is very difficult to pick a single time to work. That is little more than a cop out. If you’re going to be a writer you need to prioritize time for writing. This is not necessarily to the detriment of all other things in your life, but a full life will need to find some time to sacrifice for the craft.

I sacrificed TV and sitting around for hours on end. Even there the word sacrifice is over stated. True, I generally don’t have the time to binge-watch shows while in ‘writer mode’ but I can find an hour between writing sessions/anything else to give myself the time to mentally recharge.

I’m drained tonight. I need a recharge.

A flurry of blog posts, a result of being on the road and without reliable internet for days. It is strange to have been born into a world without internet and feel, well, naked when you are in a place that doesn’t have the connective digital cloud. I’ve seen people go through more withdrawal than I have, absolutely freaking when they can’t get a video on their phones. The new normal is so thoroughly disconnected from the reality of thirty–even fifteen years ago that it lends credence to this theory of an ever accelerating tech curve.

Which brings me back to the blogs not getting through… or anything connected happening. Honestly, I kind of liked it. I can see how being disconnected is anathema to millenials but I love the idea of being out of touch for at least a bit. What I hate is the flood of emails and texts that await when I check back in.

I suppose there ought to be a balance.

Some Thoughts:

1. Dear Fox (Faux?) News: Stop hiring blonde women as a wedge to be placed between two older men. It is starting to wear on America–even on your America. We get it. We understand the ideal you are striving to recreate.
2. While we are still talking, how does it feel to not really have a candidate you can push? Gotta to be hard on ya. I mean you had a pundit call Cruz a liberal. That happened.
3. Finally, stop acting like 2008 was ever really in doubt. Obama locked that vote up and won with a ridiculous margin. The fact remains that whoever (read: Clinton) is the Democratic nominee will also wreck shop against Trump. You have to know that by now.

My experience yesterday is a stark reminder of the perils of road travel. I didn’t have any real internet access so I couldn’t post it, but it all boils down to the fact that the Avi hotel near Laughlin is a terrible place. I say near Laughlin and they say in Laughlin. I suppose they are correct by technicality, but the place is 20 minutes away from any other piece of civilization, leading me to say it isn’t really even near Laughlin. I don’t get sad much but this hotel left me extremely sad. The whole place is a commentary on what not to do.

The Avi is built like an arcology. It is a self contained system of weak activities and paper food built around a casino that promises slowly delivered and watered down free booze, and slots so tight I could describe them with a line from a misogynistic rap song (I.e. Tight like a million…). I hated this place. The price tag led me there, but the smoke choked atmosphere drove me away.

Here’s what threw me: The place is a 4.5 star review on multiple websites. That means that there is someone with ISIS level social media savvy running around and making Avi seem a lot better than it is. I mean, they promised a dazzling food court, 30 nearby river and private beach, party-driven pool, world class gambling, and an on-site movie theater. The reviewers praised these amenities, but what I saw was not at all what was advertised. The gambling was for crap, the pool was basic, the theater closed at 7. Perhaps the worst part was the food situation which looked so terrible that I refused to eat. The main restaurant boasted $15 appetizers as if this was a bargain of some sort. After seeing the rest of the amenities, the only choice was to flee… to a room with a crappy bed and poor TV service.

So I am here, sitting in that bed after a poor night’s sleep, complaining about last night. At least I have this blog as catharsis.