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At what point do collectibles and mementos turn into useless junk taking up space? This is the question I’ve been asking myself the past couple days. I’m cleaning out my closet because I feel like I have too much useless junk. Some choices are easy (old hard drives, clothes from the 90s, locks of hair from old girlfriends). But for others…it’s hard to pull the trigger.
The two items that are causing me the most agony are my Super Nintendo and my Game Boy. I last used my SNES before I was married (hooked it up in my bachelor pad one night because I wanted to play “Mario 3”). As for the Game Boy…last time I used that might have been in the previous millennium–literally. Given that I hardly use these items (at best), it’s fairly obvious their absence wouldn’t be noticed (other than the open space in my closet). And yet…
I can’t seem to do it. Seems to me I’d be better off selling them on eBay or giving ’em to Goodwill than keeping them here and never using them. I should let my video game systems find good homes with someone who will love them and play . . . . .
This semester I decided to take a soccer class at the university. My foray into kinesiology was motivated by two factors: 1) I couldn’t get into the classes I wanted and 2) I got nothing better to do. I skipped softball because I’m already a master of the sport. Basketball wasn’t going to fly because short white men can’t dunk. I knew if I took yoga I’d probably break something (most likely my back). Soccer felt like the right choice because it’s a game I love and I had nothing to lose.
I haven’t played soccer in about 15 years. Despite its absence, I love soccer–played it throughout the majority of my youth (my father was Italian so it was only natural I learn the family tradition). Many kids played soccer when they’re four or five years old; very few continue playing after the age of 12. Hardly anybody plays in high school. Not only did I play soccer in my late teens, I did so at the expense of other traditional high school activities (such as football, girls, or summer vacation). The last time I played soccer was in high school and I was looking forward to getting on . . . . .
In season seven of “24” there’s an actress who caught my eye. While no woman could ever tame Jack Bauer, there’s something about this gal I like looking at. Now I wouldn’t go as far as calling her hot because her attractiveness falls way short of your average supermodel. She just has a thing about her–kinda of like “old lady hot.” Every time I looked at her, I found myself thinking, For someone her age, she doesn’t look bad. Her face had a wrinkle or two–but she wore it well. After two or three episodes, I became obsessed: I wanted to know more about her. What was her name? How old was she? Did she ever do softcore porn? Once again, not because she was hot–just attractive in an older woman kind of way. I dare not disclose her name because I don’t wanna be considered a granny chaser. Besides, I assumed she was much too old to be considered attractive by most standards.
Given my predetermined assumption that this woman was “older,” imagine my horror to discover she’s is only a few months my senior. This “old lady” is my age! Technically my peer and probably an ideal mate . . . . .
I am a big fan of crappy teen dramas. It started way back with the original “90210” and continues today with the new “90210.” When I was in the midst of my “Dawson’s Creek” phase, I wondered how these television producers could keep coming up with new teen drama plotlines. Every teenager in America goes through the same struggles. I don’t wanna lessen their trauma, but how different is the “Dawson” version of teen drinking compared to “One Tree Hill?” It’s hard to tell a story that’s already been told–at least hard to do and make it seem fresh and interesting.
Back in the original “90210” I remember losing one’s virginity was a major plotline. This theme eventually gets explored in every teen drama and to this 31-year old adult, it’s a little played out. I know I’m not the target audience of these shows, but I’m sure I’m not the only 30-something watching (and if I am, I really need to rethink my life). The shock value of teen sex is completely gone. I remember how controversial a 1991 episode of “Roseanne” was because 17-year old Becky wanted to go on birth control. Unfortunately, that sorta “shock” isn’t shocking . . . . .
Recently I walked out of a Jon Cena movie…but not for the reasons you’d think. It only took about five minutes of the “12 Rounds” to make me sick (also not for reasons you’d think). The movie is part of a growing phenomenon in cinematography that I think is ruining movies. I can live with WWE superstars make movies; I can’t stand movies shot on hand cameras.
I don’t understand why more and more movies are shot this way. Instead of using a perfectly balance tripod, a great deal of movies today are shot by handheld cameras. I think directors do it to create a ‘gritty’ feel that puts the audience into the action (in reality, it puts me in the bathroom). This is a style that I’m not comfortable with. The quick pans and extreme close-ups make me queasier than an overeater at an all-you-can-eat buffet of week-old fish. I can’t stand it. Quick zoom. Quick cut. Extreme close-up. Pan left. Pan right. Hurl in the aisle–I’m telling you, it ain’t for me.
I’m not sure I get the appeal of it. Admittedly, I didn’t grow up watching music videos and I’m not a fan of rapid cuts–but I . . . . .
I liked all sports, but always believed that football was the best. I always longed for football season and Sundays glued to the TV. But this year felt different–I’ve been longing for baseball ever since October. At least twice a week since Christmas, I’ve said out loud “I miss baseball.” I come to realize baseball is my true love and my favorite sport. Now with this whole Arod announcement–to realize what I love is fake–it makes me feel sick.
Now that I’m unemployed, I have a lot more time on my hands and decided to do a little research. Why am I so upset? Why am I bothered? Because steroids cheated the game of baseball. Not just the retired players who saw their milestones passed, but the fans. The game we’ve been watching the past 15 years isn’t what baseball is supposed to be. Look at some of the stats I’ve managed to accumulate.*
The top six all-time single-season home run hitters have ties to steroids. Name HRs Barry Bonds 73 Mark McGwire 70 Sammy Sosa 66 Mark McGwire 65 Sammy Sosa 64 Sammy Sosa 63 Of the top 24 single-season home run hitters, 14 happened after 1961 (when Maris . . . . .
As the Alex Rodriguez steroid scandal unfolded, I traded emails with a buddy of mine. The nature of these letters explored my emotional impact of baseball’s best player being a cheat. I thought they were rather well-written (that and it’s been a slow week) so I decided to post my side of the emails here.
This Arod announcement has taken me to a new level of jaded. Not because I’m a scorn Yankee fan, but because what it means. I now realize there is nothing true from the home run explosion of the 90s. Mark Grace wasn’t mediocre because he didn’t hit enough bombs–he just happened to be the only person clean. Look at the list–all of the great players of the past 15 years are linked to steroids. I’m not going to name everyone because you know every one, but the majority of them have juiced. Not just speculation. Now there’s failed drug tests and BALCO allegations. Camaniti and Canseco’s claim of 75 percent of baseball looks very, very true.
Arod was supposed to be different. I remember when he was a number one pick out of high school. He was always supposed to be great so that’s . . . . .
The economy is bad (or so the experts say) and my employer felt that my position had to be eliminated.* Faced with the option of paying off my student loans with no income, I decided to delay the inevitable and return to school full time. It doesn’t seem that long since I was a full-time student, but considering “Who Wants To Be a Millionaire” was popular and “Dawson’s Creek” was still on the air, I guess it has. The year was 2003 and I was finishing up my final college semester by sleeping through boring, pointless classes.
The biggest thing that has changed is the technology. I wrote about this a few months back, but it’s even greater than I realized. Back in 2003, I was a major email-user; unfortunately, the majority of my teachers were not. Very few were willing to communicate by email; now I have teachers insisting that all papers are emailed so we can save trees.
The computer has made everything different. At my school, everything gets done online. You can register for classes, check grades, even pay tuition. None of this was available in 2003. It might not seem like much, but it’s a whole . . . . .
I’m not sure what to think of this, but my wife Photoshopped our wedding photos. She didn’t like the color of her dress so she changed it. You can’t rewrite history. I just hope her next alteration does involve replacing me with someone better looking.
When I was a kid, I used to twist around in circles just because I liked to see the world spin when I stopped. I grew out of it eventually–but the point is I didn’t use to get sick. First time I went on “Star Tours” I was ten years old and I didn’t get sick. Merry-go-rounds, carousel, or roundabouts, it didn’t matter: I could ride any amusement park attraction without getting sick (except the Teacups–that’s way too much spinning for any human to endure).
As I get older, I realize my stomach ain’t what it use to be. They say taste buds evolve as you get older; allergies can develop after adolescence. I think susceptibility to motion sickness is another change you body makes when you get older. My parents couldn’t tolerate even the mildest roller coaster…and I fear I might be joining them.
Over the past couple years, I find myself about to . . . . .
My brother’s birthday was last week. He wanted me to come join him and some friends in LA at a bar around 9:30 at night. I had to decline. It has nothing to do with LA, booze, or even my brother. The real hold up is the 9:30 part.
I don’t know what happened to me or where the turning point came, but 9:30 at night feels so late. At 9:30 if I’m not sleepy, I’m thinking about being sleepy. Who goes out at 9:30? Nine-thirty should be coming home time. It should be the end of your evening–not the start.
I’ve gotten so old. It used to be 9:30 was a great time to go out. When I used to go to the movies with friends, I loved the post-11 p.m. showings. You could go out, have dinner, goof around, and then go see a movie. Now I dread shows after eight because I like to be home before ten. Having a fulltime job has a lot to do with it–but many folks party all night and still show up to work every morning. I’m just old.
A lesbian couple in Seattle made news this week because they were . . . . .
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