I have a vivid memory of the Taco Joint down the road from me getting a new Asteroids machine. I had played Space Invaders before, but was never that excited about it - but Asteroids - that was a game! My cousin and I would pour quarters into it for hours. For weeks, we were to afraid to even use the thruster, but eventually took a chance, and got pretty damn good at it.
Then along came Donkey Kong - at the pizza place a block north, and Asteroids was old news. Donkey Kong was the most amazing, bizarre, frustrating and fun thing Evar! We had no idea what we were doing - even when we figured out how to play the game, we had no good idea what the story was supposed to be. Then there was the explosion of machines, but Asteroids and Donkey Kong will always be my faves.
At any given time, I recall being excited to go play one of the following games: Space Invaders, Asteroids, Donkey Kong, Tempest, Donkey Kong Jr., Joust, Pingu, QBert, Xevious, Defender, Robotron, Pole Position and Tron.
These days, it's PC games for me. Half Life 2 just can't be beat, even though I've played through the whole thing. It's a lot of fun watching my little kids get into games too - how good they are at them. Barbie Pet Rescue is actually pretty fun!
No, I don't have a nickname (unless you count "Papa"). I do, however have a lifelong battle against a particular nickname - "Al".
My name is Alan. I am a big guy. "Big Al" comes up so regularly, so easily... and I hate it every time. It's as if the nickname were genetically designed to make me cringe. I always correct people as soon as I hear them call me "Al", even without the "big" - I really can't stand it. It's just not me.
Oh, and it was totally hilarious when Paul Simon's "You Can Call Me Al" was in heavy rotation. Ha. ha. ha. It was funnier every time it came up, every time someone heard the song while in my presence and made some remark. Every time someone started singing the song when I walked into a room.
You can, however, still call me Betty.
Or, reflections from yesterday (Father's Day)
- Just because you are a Dad yourself, you shouldn't forget to send your own Dad a card for Father's Day (doh).
- A 3-year-old boy is an amazing amalgam of cute, energy, angst, frustration and potential. Not a baby, yet not quite a confident boy.
- Use caution when leaning over to kiss said boy on top of the head - he is prone to spontaneous jumping. Your penalty for forgetting this will be a fat lip and a crying boy, rubbing his head.
- I have not sustained this many consistent injuries since I was a boy myself. Parenting is a contact sport, always be prepared. When was the last time you were kicked in the jaw while reading a book? Happened to me twice last week.
- Grab moments as often as possible - make mental snapshots of the good moments, run through them a few times, cementing them into your synapses, these little ones get big so fast.
- There is nothing ironic, meaningful or sad about finding youself carrying a wailing child through a Wal-mart listening to Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" over the store's PA. It just is what it is - reflection and judgement not needed.
- Never underestimate the power of misdirection and humor. When a child is stamping his/her feet refusing to go to brush their teeth, and you find yourself clenching, ready to put your foot down, step to the side a bit and tell them "Get in here and brush your nose right now!" Giggles have a good chance of chasing the grump away (at least for younger ones).
- When your young daughter performs her dance number at The Big Recital, apparently she will expect a bouquet of flowers afterward. Every other girl will have them. Your penalty for not knowing this tradition will be severe.
- When picking out said flowers for the next recital, be sure to remember to smell them first. Looks alone will not rescue your ineptness when it's discovered that the flowers are foul-smelling stink blossoms.
- That whole "I can't believe I just said that, I sound just like my Dad" thing? You'll get over it.
- There really is no better thing in life than when you walk in the door after work and are greeted by loud and happy shouts of "Papa's Home!", followed by energetic hugs and overlapping summations of the days events.
- Remember those happy bits when the boy pushes over a very expensive mirrored ball at the local garden store. Yes, they shatter in spectacular fashion.
Happy Post-Father's Day.
A goofy meme via Mena - Here are the steps:
- Randomly pick a song from your music library.
- Find the lyrics for the first four verses/chorus
- Go to Google translation and translate the lyrics from English into German.
- Take the new German lyrics and translate them into French.
- Take the new French lyrics and translate them into English.
- Post the NEW English lyrics and have people guess the original song
Here's my song (might be kinda easy):
The innocence of the children dormant
Equipped in the white
And slowly dreaming
All the time stops
My stages slow down and start to disappear
Thus, much with years filled my heart
I never thought that I would say these words
Moreover, we go
And more old man we rise
More than, we know
Smaller than, we show
Very first the mark I saw your face
I thought of a song and quickly modified the melody
Very first the mark I have affected your skin
I thought of a history
And precipitate, to reach the end too early
Oh remembers
A request not to modify
Thus, the case came
Thirteen years
A brilliant ring
And how I your names could forgotten
Air more in my throat
Another perfect lie erdrosselt
But it always believes in same
Very messy, small dark developer cave of a workspace, 1/3-height wall cubicles. The racks on the other side of the monitor are noisy servers. Scifi robots and spacecraft on either side of my monitor. Bo-ring. You can't see my Mac, offscreen left.
The second image is an aerial shot of my
building just south of downtown Boston. (Boston.com) The long building
in front of it is the Children's Museum with the giant Milk bottle next
to the waterfront. Also visible is the tea Party Museum with ship in
the middle of the channel.
It's amazing how you can pick and choose which branches to traverse on your way back in time. My Dad has researched the Taylor family back to parts of England in the early 1600s and other families in Germany.
On my mother's side, there is one branch that hits a distinct dead-end - my Grandfather's Great Grandmother was a full-blood Native American named Wah-se-con from the Sac and Fox tribe (relocated from Michigan to Iowa/Kansas/Oklahoma). She married a French-Canadian trapper name Jean Rubeti and had at least two girls named Margaret and Sophie. Wah-se-con and Jean were killed in a horse-cart accident in 1851, and Margaret (age 6) and Sophie were then raised by Christian Missionaries in Iowa. Margaret was my Great Great Grandmother.
Michael Pollan's "The Omnivore's Dillemma", also my "Timex Alarm Clock User's Manual", my latest copy of WIRED, and a Barbie doll (my daughter's, honest).
The Omnivore's Dillemma will really make you think about corn in entirely new ways. My wife wants me to "shut up about corn already".
