Not Like That

Viral.

Viral, viral, viral.

I've been thinking a lot about that word these last few days. Not in the sense of desperate ad men, chasing after the most recent buzz word theyve glommed onto. Side-bar: you can't arbitrarily shoot for your campaign or video 'going viral' dummy, that's the point of the concept. It happens unintentionally and without reason. Rant over. No, the viral I've been thinking about is the bad kind. The kind that makes you question every sore throat and itchy eye.

Like the Plum Island kind of viral.

I found a book. I think maybe I gave it to my father in law for a birthday. How quaint, right? A paper book! It was an exposé on the secrets and history of Lab 257 on Plum Island, out past Long Island. It has a strong whiff of conspiratorial cloak and dagger to it, but it was still a fun, gripping jaunt down the rabbit hole into a world of viruses and germ warfare I assumed only existed in Resident Evil games. If you ever read my post on the paranormal-focused podcast Mysterious Universe, you would know I have a strong inclination for the unknown and whispered about. The things that go bump in the night. Plum Island is the kind of place born of the mind of a fevered fiction writer, not the stern, sober minds of the United States Armed Forces. It's long been rumored to be home to horrifying experiments and animal testing. While the white-coats there aren't creating something for the Umbrella Corporation, they still do work with some of the deadliest pathogens known to man.

So here we are. That's a real place.

Lab 257, written and researched by Michael Christopher Carroll, is an expose that dates back to just after WWII. It's common knowledge we brought over Nazi scientists to build the rockets for our burgeoning space program. It's less commonly known that we brought over the best and most creative virologists to develop the latest thing: germs. 

This tiny little island, off the coast of New England, is home to labs that not only house some of the most deadly viri and bacteria in the world, but some of the most appallingly lax security. It used to be strong, mind you. Carroll's exhaustive history tells of elaborate and maddening levels of decontaminization coupled with strict protocol. All of this seemed to go out the window when the US Army pulled out of the facilities and handed control over to the USDA. Yes, that USDA. Whereas the Army would snipe the deer that would occasionally swim to the island (and possibly carry infected bugs off with them, because why not?) the USDA would just not deal with it. The manner in which Carroll lays out the facts and history here, you begin to see how not only Lyme's disease, but also the West Nile virus spread from the supposedly safe facilities. Also, the numerous security lapses and de-con failures are staggering. Straight up raw sewage, laden with still hot germs, was being dumped for years into what used to be fertile coast line.

Crazy stuff.

You've got to read this book. It is a page turner in the absolute best way. It's the kind of book where you come in to it with an incredulous attitude, only to find yourself flipping furiously through the pages and thinking 'No way would the government let this happen'. Yet it totally did. Read up! It's fascinating.

Video Playback

Recently while running errands with my better half, we passed the remains of what used to be a Blockbuster Video store. Noting that there had been signs hung stating they were going out of business and had to sell off their inventory, we began to reminisce over a tradition that is no more. 

"Think of explaining all that to our kids someday," she said. "What a strange thing to have to do, like using a rotary phone." 

She was totally right. You don't think about it so much now, but it was a funny thing to have to do. Friday night, you and your friends would all pile into one car, drive to a store and wander around, arguing over what movie you wanted to see. If it was taken, you couldn't see that movie and had to pick something else. How strange does that seem now? We have wide spread systems called Watch Instantly and On Demand. There used to just be a single copy of a movie at the rental places and if it was gone - tough luck! On top of that, you usually only had one night to watch it. No planning ahead. You had to go get it, watch it and drop it off the next day. That seems like a weird pressure to have for enjoying a movie. However, being out and about did afford an opportunity (or, more likely, an excuse) to stop and grab snacks for the movie. This little benefit seems to be offset by the fact that if the weather was bad (as it could be in winter) then you had to weigh the risk/reward for venturing out. That is how people got sick of watching the movies they owned. 

As weird as this little ritual used to be, I am a bit sad to see it go away. I can recall a lot of good times from goofing around in the video store, as well as the unexpected surprise of my mom saying "Oh, I rented a movie for you while I was out." How nice was that? I wasn't always out doing things with friends, particularly before I had my license, so these unexpected movies were a great treat. My mom would randomly stop by the video rental place and grab something for me or my younger brother. That is something I'll never be able to do for my kids. Instead I'll have to sit them down and say "You're going to watch The Goonies and you're going to like it!" Who am I kidding? That will never happen. They won't be able to have an attention span long enough. Neither will I, really. 

Random surprise movies were fun. That was the only reason I saw (oof) The Phantom Menace when I was younger. Also, here's a confession - one time, the surprise movie was The Princess Diaries. Yes. You read that right. I'm not ashamed of it. I had some qualms about watching a girly Disney movie, but in my defense, I was severely grounded and it starred a little-known actress named Anne Hathaway. It wasn't bad, actually. Maybe my teenage sensibilities and a burgeoning crush were more forgiving than my current palate. Then again, I can cop to a spotty track record for hits and misses in pop culture. 

There was also the small joy of asking "Hey mom, if you're out and about today, could you pick up this movie for me?" Sitting in the basement and going through a mental queue of movies was my own precursor to Netflix. There was one snowy night I made a point of watching Reservoir Dogs and Chasing Amy, which felt at the time like the most independent and out there movies in the world. What an adorably sheltered life I led. 

I guess that's the way it goes, though. Time and technology march on. When I was a teenager I couldn't have possibly hoped for anything like I have now. Last night, when I couldn't sleep, I sat in bed watching an episode of The X Files on my iPad. Not only was I freed from the time and location restrictions of a TV, I had an overwhelming amount of choices of what to watch. We are absolutely spoiled when it comes to media and consumption. I'll keep that in mind the next time I feel nostalgic about the dearth of old habits or the prices of a movie ticket. 

Pure Menace

I went to see The Phantom Menace this weekend. Intentionally and with surprisingly high hopes, I should add. 

My reasons for doing so were varied, but I essentially wanted to see if it truly is as bad as the collective internet would have us believe. Though, really, it was a chance to hang out with a friend of mine and go to the movies, which happens so rarely these days. I had a great time with my friend, but the movie...what a fascinating misstep in the annals of film. 

Here's the short version for anyone not in the know: George Lucas was responsible (mostly) for some really great movies. He took a huge hiatus from a beloved franchise and when he returned to it almost 20 years later, he made a movie that has become synonymous with disappointment and fan-backlash. Since then, he made two more that only made incremental improvements, thus tarnishing the very series that brought him to prominence in the first place. Lucas cut a deep dividing line between his older work and his recent work, one body being heartfelt and the other being coldly focused at selling toys and crowding the screen. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

I loved the Star Wars movies as a kid. As a teenager, my focus shifted (girls, music, what have you) and I never even saw The Phantom Menace in its theatrical release. I eventually rekindled my love for the series a few years ago, the nostalgia fueling a passion for which little else holds such high regard in my eyes. So when the Blu Ray editions of the six film series were announced, I was on board from the get go. Yes, the whole thing, not just the good half. I wanted the whole set, not just for completion's sake, but to evaluate the series with fresh eyes and new presentation. I hadn't seen TPM in ten years, and the only time I saw it was on a VHS on a small screen TV on a sunny afternoon. Hardly ideal viewing conditions. When I watched the movies on Blu Ray a few months ago I simply skipped large parts of TPM, wanting to get to the movies I love instead of enduring what I assumed was absolute dreck. 

I was mostly right in doing so. 

Going to the theater on Saturday, I had a fresh viewing experience ahead of me. The hatred and fervor behind the movie had died down. It would not only be on the big screen, but in 3D as well. This was the big selling point for the re-release and I'll admit, I wanted to see how it changed the movie. As it turns out, not even a fresh, forgiving perspective could fix the missteps Lucas took in constructing TPM from the ground up. The 3D, while subtly applied, didn't add a great deal, just more depth of field and a darker, frustrating image. In my home experience it was bright and vivid, full of clear imagery. This was muddled and sleep-inducing - the bulbs are never turned up bright enough on 3D projectors. While I enjoyed the whole ritual of going to the movies, our immediate reaction upon leaving the theater was amazement. We weren't simply trashing the film for the sake of dog-piling. It really is just that bad. 

Mr. Plinkett's review makes every single flaw with the film abundantly clear, as it is nearly as long as the movie itself. What I can do, though, is give more concise insight. 

For starters, I still can't say with any certainty what the movie is about. I know, I know. Trade routes and Federation disputes, blockades and diplomats. It's insane. Three times, now, I've seen this movie and I still shrug at the actual supposed motivations. I can't event bother with paying attention to the nuts and bolts of the political process in the movie. I get so fed up with politics in my own life, I don't want to pay attention and get invested in ones in a fantasy world. Compare that to plots in IV, V and VI - rebel spies, revenge, running from the Empire. Simple, comprehendible motivations, despite the fantastical setting.

Wooden acting is another integral problem. The only lively elements were Jar Jar and Ewan McGregor, and even McGregor was limited to imitating Alec Guiness. He got much more loose with it in the following installments. Even here it was apparent he was the only one who seemed to know not to take it too seriously. Liam Neeson is stiff and distant, very hard to root for. Natalie Portman just didn't seem to know how to play her part. Ian Mcdermid at least had a sense from his prior experience to ham it up a bit.

On top of all it is the fact that the screen and the universe Lucas created was simply so cluttered at this point. While the first three movies suggested a rich, developed universe behind the story, here it was presented as a full on, unrelenting onslaught. Every inch of the screen was packed with action and detail. The clutter was mind boggling. Seemingly every character had had or eventually had a back story or a novel or a video game spin off. I don't want to have to know all that business - I want to be able to just watch the movie and follow the action on screen.

I know I'm being harsh. There were some cool moments. Seeing the Gungan city revealed in 3D in the theater was actually pretty breathtaking, as were some of the other establishing shots. The score was classic Star Wars. The lightsaber dual wasn't bad. There were moments where the original trilogy poked through, but they were so few and far between that they couldn't buoy the film out of slow, steady sinking process. It was, as I've said, fascinating to see how intrinsically flawed the movie is at every level. I also know I'll go see Attack of the Clones next year. I'm just a glutton for punishment and too quick to give second chances, I guess.

Extinction

I had a revelation this morning. 

The past two nights have afforded me something quite rare and unusual - an uninterrupted hour, each night, with which I was able to indulge my fading passion for video games. That may not sound like such an occurrence, but it actually has given me quite a bit of insight into my behavior and tendencies as a gamer as I've gotten older. What I've realized, on further reflection, is that I am quite the outdated dinosaur when it comes to games. Allow me to explain. 

I'm not ready for the retirement home, but I'm no spring chicken, either. The closer I edge to the big 3-0, the more I realize (thanks to steady employment and scrupulous saving) that time, not money, is the commodity now. I could buy a game or console on launch day, sure, but when would I ever have time to play it? I'm up before six, not home from the office until six at night, and in bed by ten. If you account for cooking (yes, that is possible and actually necessary for good health) and running, let alone the things necessary for the next day like doing dishes and laundry and cleaning the cat box, there's so little time that I find it amazing I get anything done at all. I don't even have kids. I want to enjoy the evening with my better half. Sure, I could pull a late night marathon session, but at this point in my life I'd rather be well rested than at the next level, of which only I would care. 

Which brings me to my next point - I am absolutely of the old guard when it comes to gaming. I have taken my 360 (which I only purchased in 2010) online once. That single foray into online gaming wasn't even to play with others - it was to update the console and download a game. That game? An re-working of the decade old N64 choking Perfect Dark. It barely ran on that old system, now it looks fantastic when running at 1080p and 60 fps. I don't want to play with a bunch of people who are online incessantly, insanely better than me and more likely than not to spend the entire time belittling me with xenophobic slurs. Why should I put up with that? The games I play are completely solo endeavors, as is the nature of the experience. My preferred experience is a huge TV in a darkened room with some headphones, and maybe a glass of wine to steady the nerves. The games I'm playing hardly have any mutli-player of which to play. Other people would just take me out of the moment. 

Not only am I an isolated gamer, I can't play for very long anymore, these days. I remember a sleepless series of nights in college while I waited to have a root canal dealt with. I coped with insomnia by working my way through Resident Evil 2, front to back in all permutations of the plot. If that happened now, I'd be risking my job by coming in as a sleepwalker. The most I can sit and play is an hour. After that, my joints start to hurt and my eyes burn. I either have to take a break and walk around or just call it quits for the night. At this point in my life I feel like gaming is such an indulgence that more than an hour or two a week is time that could be better spent writing, reading, cooking, cleaning, running. Really, the guilt accumulates just as the saved games do. 

On top of this is the recent realization that I have moral quandaries about the games I play. I want nothing to do with pretending to be a soldier in the midst of a horrible war. I don't want to inflict pain or cruelty onto others unless the game requires it to progress. Life is hard and nasty enough, I don't want my downtime filled with unsettling moral choices and wanton destruction. Sounds pretentious, I know, but I prefer games that tell a story and have a reason for the madness, not mindless 'point and shoot'. Bioshock had an amazing story and surreal artwork to bolster the experience. Arkham Asylum let me indulge my childhood obsession with Batman delivering justice. Alan Wake was a spooky trip through a world quite similar to Twin Peaks. I recall playing Dead Rising and feeling kind of exhausted and wrung out after the despair and death in that game, just from the first hour or so. I love it, but more for the Romero-esque fantasy than seeing the imagery. Forget Call of Duty. Give me a story. 

Realizing I'm not a modern gamer has helped me reconcile my fading habit with my current life. I don't mind not being as culturally relevant as I used to. The industry is a juggernaut. It's more a realization that my tastes and habits are changing, ever so slightly, in ways that I only occasionally pick up on. I would have thought that this would make me sad to see, that not gaming as much meant I was getting old and stiff and boring. Instead, I love who I am more and more, I just appreciate my time and what I do with it more. Time is the commodity. I'm not going to make anyone watch me play a a game any more than I would make them watch a movie they can't stand. It's all much more personal for me, as a result. I get a personal, private adventure. The scarcity makes it all the more memorable. 

About (Jerk) Face

I really thought I was funny.


I hindsight I can say with confidence that it was not the case. In my last post I extolled the virtues of being genuine and kind, all while getting the sneaking suspicion the world at large wasn't such a kind place. Upon further reflection, I have concluded that while I may not have been one of the dudes, or bro if that suits you better, I definitely was a teenaged dick. At the time it may have been intentional, though not for the reasons I thought. Like many, if not all, teenaged males, I thought I could be the most hilarious person in the room. At least, I made an effort to be. While there was a fair amount of parroting SNL skits and quoting standup routines, there were a lot of times where I straight up bagged on people with little to no provocation.


That makes me cringe a bit. I don't really know where it stemmed from. I'm sure a fair amount of it sprang from adolescent insecurity and a desire to be accepted. There was also a subconscious desire to establish a personality and look cool to everyone. After all, doesn't everyone like the guy who makes everyone laugh? I thought so. The more I think about it as high school recedes farther in to the past, I get the sense I wasn't ever very funny, but just a dick.


On top of this, I probably was more popular than I realized. While that clearly smacks of Humblebrag, it only stands to further illustrate the disconnect between perception and reality. I think I had assumed, based on a couple rough years in junior high, that I was a social misfit. I'm sure I was as weird as anyone else could be, I just didn't hide it as well. What I convinced myself was shunning or social neglect was most likely my own low self esteem and self absorption manifesting in justification and ascribing intention to actions from others. In short, I probably made it all up. It's a clear cut case of Liz Lemon Syndrome.


So why all this? Why the post on trivialities of high school social burdens?


Simple.


I don't like who I was or how I acted, and there are too many people to apologize to individually. The more I think about how much I teased other kids, for what I thought was innocuous ribbing, I curse myself at the thought of my behavior. I was engaging in what I thought would make me more popular with the right kids. Instead, I was hurting feelings and probably embarrassing people. I'm not saying I was mercilessly tormenting defenseless kids, but I was definitely responsible for making people feel bad about themselves on more than a handful of occasions. Not some grand orchestrated prank, but more the kind of thing where you look back and think "Why would I do that? I would never do that now..."


Maybe that's what growing up is - realizing you were a jerk when you thought you were the victim. On top of that is the understanding that you can't take things back. I haven't seen almost any of my classmates in about ten years, so I doubt there's been little to change their minds about me. But there I go again - I'm vainly assuming that anyone from that time still is thinking about me in the slightest.

Face Paint

I remember the first time I really saw through male posturing. 

I was a freshman in high school, firmly rooted in my awkward phase of coming all-too-early into my adult body. I was a tall, gangly kid with long hair who had little to no athletic skills of any note. At that age, such a lack of skills, when coupled with unconventional tastes, make for poor socializing in a small Midwestern town. I didn't fit in, obviously. I had a few friends, but this was still at the age where they sprang more from geographical proximity rather than shared interest. Sure, we all dug video games and adolescent movies, but I still stood firmly apart from the group of dude's dudes who loved football and baseball more than anything else. I was the weird one, the bookish one, the nerdy one. 

It was Halloween night, which fell on a Saturday. Being in that awkward time of too old to trick or treat and too young to drive, we had nothing better to do than go over to Beef's house and play video games and eat junk food. Yes, if you're wondering - Beef was his known name. It was a bit of unfortunate nick-naming from a baseball coach who assigned everyone of his favorite players food themed monikers (Fries, Shake, who knows what else). None of the other ones stuck, of course, but this kid was known as Beef by all, even teachers, well past his teens. So we're at Beef's house, being freshman with nothing better to do, when his older brother and his friends stop in on their rounds of mysterious and tantalizing mischief. They were smoking on the back deck, regaling us with tales of paintball related antics when one of the friends, a short, stout, run of the mill bro, decided to toilet paper a neighbor's house. They all slinked off together to do the deed while we waited in awe on the back deck, the lot of us jealous of their hijinx and attitudes. 

Shortly after they left, a few came sprinting back to the deck. The excitedly told us of how local law enforcement had spotted them in the act and had tried to track them down. Rolling my eyes at the bravado, I stepped inside to get a soda. That's when the other older kids opened fire with their paintball guns. Sounding like a series of popping balloons, my friends were pelted by a hail of shots that left bruises and the occasional blood blister. When the good natured assault ended and the upperclassmen emerged from the shrubs, everyone had a good laugh about it, to my surprise. It looked like it hurt. Having been paintballing years later, I can attest it would definitely hurt on a cold night much more than it would during the summer days I tried it. When the upper classmen saw me emerge from the house, unscathed, they were upset. 

"Aw man," they complained. "We were gunning for Toycen!" 

I have no idea what, if anything, I had done to incur their wrath. I probably just looked like a dork and a great big, goony target. I get it. You want to pelt the awkward kid. The Bill Haverchuck. It's the natural way of the world. Nothing bad happened after that, they just had really wanted to nail me in particular. 

That wasn't the moment, though. As much of a revelation that it was for the upper classmen to arbitrarily open fire on us, it was almost par for the course. I was an outsider and I had an older brother with whom I would scrap. Again, big fish eats the little one, I get it. The watershed moment for me was hearing the same dude who started the prank regale his buddies with his concocted anecdote about the police chasing after him. I forget the start of it, but the words that I locked onto centered around his description of what the cop did when he saw him. 

He said "...and the cop flicked on his blueberries and cherries and peeled off after me. That's when I ran back here to wait it out." 

It still stands out to me, over a decade later, as complete bullshit. 

Look at it - 'blueberries and cherries'. That's how he referred to the lights. The unspoken assumption that he, and all of his friends, had dealt so much with the police that there was not only a short hand phrase for the lights on top of the car, but one that was actually five syllables longer than the word 'lights'. To give better context and more fully explain why this bothers me, here is the full scene: a bunch of middle class white kids in a small town in Wisconsin, none of whom had ever been accosted by the police. Two of whom were the sons of an actual officer. No girls were present. No prize was on the line. Just dudes being dudes. Despite all of this, there was still the subconscious desire for a few of them to put on airs and act tough. 

It drove me crazy then and it still does now. 

I remember throwing a sideways glance at the phrase, seeing if anyone else took note of the high bullshit quotient. No one skipped a beat. Others nodded along, because of course they spent all of their free time running from the police. They were bad ass, man. Hardcore. Not sheltered and posturing at all. That's when it clicked in my head - I didn't have to feel nerdy and nebbish. They were just as unsure about life as I was, they just made a big show of why they were big men. That's why I stood out - I wasn't pretending. I was just being nice, because I thought other people were trying to be nice too. "Oh," I realized, "even though they're all friends, these dudes are still insecure."


To this day, this memory stands out as a clear example of why I don't fit in with dudes and bros. I always thought you could just be nice to people and they would, by nature, be nice back. It hadn't occurred to me that people would just make stuff up and pretend to be something they weren't. I still try to be nice. I still don't see the harm in being genuine. 

Still Alive

Hey kids!

I remember when I would do this every single day. Man, those were good times.

So it's been a few weeks since I posted anything here, and I've noticed a couple things. One - people still visit. That is amazing. Thank you. Things will pick back up, I promise. 

Two - I've been hearing from people, not just online, but actual people, that they read this site and enjoy it. That is even more amazing. To hear from flesh and blood folk, not just text on a page, is so validating.

Three - I've enjoyed my life a little more without the constant deadline hanging over my head. While it's a sheepish admission, that is also amazing. 

So how do these things tie together? Easy. I'm going to get back into the groove. It's going to be a little less frequent, just so I can refill the mental well from which I spew. It's also going to shift in focus. There's only so much fantastic material with which I'm familiar that I can write about. I would either start writing about things I knew too little or cared to little to justify the words. That would have felt false. 

So nuts to that! Let's get back to it! I'm gonna start getting weird with it, take this place to strange new places. Maybe write about some personal, embarrassing things. I'm cool with it. It's easier for me to write about embarrassing things than it is to tell people face to face. That doesn't mean I won't make emphatic recommendations, anymore, though. I've still got things I want to tell the world about. 

I've made my way through a couple books, saw a handful of movies, worked through a shamefully out of date backlog of videogames. I've been sleeping better and even running in the winter. I've been cookning crazy meals with my better half, including a mega-meal with the very friends who inspired me to do this in the first place. It was a blast to do so, especially to compare and contrast where I was a year ago versus our shared impressions of how it turned out. 

So.

Stay tuned.

Stuff's coming.

Anniversaire

This has nothing to do with resolutions.


A year ago, today, this all started.


My better half and I were entertaining another couple, having spent the day skating and then drinking. Now, due to poor ice conditions, we would have to just drink. Anyway, as the evening wound down someone asked about a book I had been in the process of writing. I began to talk about how I had been growing frustrated by the times in which I wanted to write but found myself unable to advance the plot sufficiently. I had the desire and wherewithal to write, just not the architecture in my head. I had no platform, I whined. I needed to kick myself in the butt. 


This patient soul shrugged and looked at me, simply stating "So start a blog."


"About what?" I asked. "What could I have to contribute to the world at large, that hasn't already been said?" 


"I dunno, write about what you like," he offered.


So I did. 


It was tentative, at first, a series of cautious recommendations of things I wanted to expound upon during happy hours and over dinner. The benefit of the writing, in this case, was that I would no longer divert dinner conversations. I could ramble on and extol the virtues of any thing I pleased. So I kept writing and slowly an audience grew. It was really fun and it provided a way to exercise my mental muscle when I couldn't push my plot forward and make the story evolve. I had an outlet. It became an everyday thing after I realized I hadn't missed a daily update after the first two months. So many blogs and sites start with high hopes, only to peter out after interest wanes. I wanted to defy the stereotype of the start-and-stop newb. 


So I kept at it, posting consistently and without fail. Some posts were better than others, but traffic kept increasing. There was a short reprieve when I got married and went on the honeymoon, but every day I had a fresh post on fantastic things that I felt didn't get the recognition they deserved. After a year of that kind of regular writing, I'm calling an audible.


It's not the end, I promise. 


All I'm saying is that I need to step back for a moment. To reflect. To reevaluate. I know it may not seem like a lot from the other side, but posting fresh content every day does take time and energy, and I want to make sure what I'm offering you is only the best. There have been times where I'm just shambling to the finish line. I don't want that. I want to be able to have time to edit and refine - doing this all while starting a new job, getting married and moving has been hard, but fun. I just need to take a moment to assess where I am and what's happening. 


So here's what's going to happen. I'm not going to post for a bit. Maybe just a week. Maybe longer. Maybe I find myself chomping at the bit to get back to it. I'm going to take time to figure out how to proceed from here and how to refocus my efforts. Maybe it's more personal in the future, and less review-centric. I'm hoping my fiction endeavors resurface. Hopefully I can start to share with you what I've been working on. 


Maybe you're bummed about this. Don't be. I'll be back, soon enough. Probably to edit this post. BUT! Know that things will change for the better. I promise. Thanks for reading. If you want updates, follow me on Twitter @jdtoycen. I'll let you know what's up. Thanks for your patience. See you on the other side.

Year End

...and with that, we draw to a close.


It's been one insane year. I don't know about you, but I am about to start getting duded up for a costume party. Lots to do and miles to go, etc. I've really enjoyed writing for this site every day (or as often as possible, as the occasion would permit). Sometimes it has been a snap, when coming up with ideas. Other times I've had to push myself to get an idea out there. One little trick has been to keep a running list of things I want to cover and write about, in case the well ran dry or inspiration never struck. As a result, there have been some things I've wanted to do longer posts on but have never been able to fit in to the schedule. So rather than force a bunch of half-hearted ideas and arbitrary posts, I thought I'd just run through them all in one shot, to show what could have been. 


In no particular order, here are the ideas and things I wanted to write about and will be culling from the year's to-do file:


The Goonies - I wrote about the soundtrack, but never mustered the wherewithal to really dig into why I love this childhood staple so much. Still a favorite of mine, all these years later.


Despicable Me - Super fun and overlooked. An adorable, surprisingly funny movie with Steve Carrell and Jason Segel providing voice work. Mad scientists doing wacky stuff.


Ectopiary - A crazy, long running web comic that only gets better and better. Free and not for the faint of heart.


The Elephant Vanishes - A great collection of short stories by one of my favorite authors. Simply too overwhelming to attempt to unpack the myriad of ideas put forth.


Bioshock - This amazing game got me into the modern era of videogames after holding out for about five years. Astounding and groundbreaking in every way. A must play, if you missed it (like I did).


Earthbound - My favorite old school SNES game. The internet already had enough articles about this quirky and idiosyncratic masterpiece.


Lunds Sandwich - No joke. Didn't want to be another food blogger, but this thing had turkey, cranberry mayo, swiss and bacon on cinnamon bread. I was in heaven every time I had it. 


That about does it for 2011. It's been phenomenal for me. Thank you so much for reading. I'll see you on the other side. Happy New Year!

Indoor Life

Evening, gang.


The year is coming to an end, faster than I'd care to admit. It's been a huge year for me - getting married, a crazy honeymoon, starting this site, new job, new home. I've done more in one year than I feel I have in the last five. It's been damn good to me. I won't bother you with the typical year-end, best-of lists that are so pervasive this season, though. For me, it's been a time full of office deadlines that demand I keep my head down and just push through, processing invoice after invoice. Super fun stuff, let me tell you. So how do I get through this? By devotedly listening to one of my favorite podcasts - The Indoor Kids, courtesy of Nerdist Industries.

I had long been a listener of 1Up's Retronauts, viewing it in my own mind as a be-all, end-all for gaming. I had a big gap in my video game lexicon, ending in the PS2/Xbox/Gamecube era. I didn't go modern until last summer, and that was only because a friend gave me an incredible deal on a 360. That's the thing about getting older - money is no longer the scarcity; time is the valuable commodity now. Getting married and starting a new job consumed most of my free time. When I could steal a free hour, here or there, I would have to make the most of it. Bit by bit, I caught up on what I had missed out on - Biohazard, Arkham Asylum, Alan Wake. Lots of genre specific, niche-heavy titles. I slowly went modern. When my favorite podcast announced a satellite series, hosted by Kumail Nanjiani, I was wary but excited.


Turns out, my curiosity was rewarded.


I had been a fan of Kumail since I had seen his stand up on Comedy Central. He's hysterical and sweet, the kind of comic who can make you howl at jokes about the depths of the ocean ("It's when God says "...and here's all these mistakes I've made!""). His obsessive, devoted appreciation for the world of gaming is so pure and sincere that hours of fantastic content spring forth from his discussions he hosts, both with friend Ali Baker and wife Emily V Gordon. In particular, hearing the married couple's take on gaming is both endearing and fascinating - you get a glimpse not only at how their relationship as writers and comics work, but how gaming is a force in the course of their lives. 

On top of the great hosts, some of the themes and guests they've had for episodes have been unparalleled. There have been down-the-rabbit-hole discussions on Gears of War with voice actor Carlos Ferro, entire episodes dedicated to the discussion of music in gaming, and the overwrought notion of girl gamers. Tom Lennon lead an eye-opening episode on addiction and the time sink that is gaming. I was agog at how Paul Scheer consistently (and without fail) backed the wrong technological horse. Dan Harmon extolled the virtues of evolution and story telling around the merits of Skyrim as it consumed everyone's lives.

I love this podcast and look forward to it every week. Kumail and Emily are top notch and open minded in a field that too often yields nit picking and negativity. If you have any interest at all in the idea of games as a commodity or cultural phenomenon, or just the guests themselves, listen to an episode. I guarantee you'll learn something.