TTWA Assignment: Part 1) You are a coach who has just cut an 11-year-old girl from the team. Write an email to her parents, explaining why. Part ) Now you are the school principal. Write an email to the coach who cut the girl from the team, explaining why he is being fired.
Emailing parents is a necessary but irksome job for teachers. The risk to upsetting someone is rather high. I once used the word ‘generosity’ to describe a bumping a deserving student from a C+ to a B-. The parent then replied a day later that her child ‘worked hard’ and did not need any of my ‘generosity.’ Sometimes you learn the hard way.
Three accounts. Three computers. If I thought it would improve my chances to heft some of the house’s scattered PCs — outdated, abandoned, or consumed by spiderwebs — down to my room, I might have risked electric shock and wolf spider bites to heave the towers into my room. But I had three accounts, thus only three computers.
The other members of my party were working across the street at Katie’s new house, knocking down trees and feeding the sap-soaked limbs into the chipper, giving Mother Nature the ol’ Fargo-special (as I call it). Thus, the task of procuring tickets to the Comicon fell to me.
Now, we’ve attended comic book conventions in the past here in Baltimore and DC. These are typically low-key affairs, occupying a single floor at the Baltimore convention center, which — to quote the Hulk — is puny in comparison to its counterparts in DC and Boston. Still it manages to stock the panels with some pretty awesome writers and artists: Scott Snyder, Greg Capullo, Don Rosa, and Neil Adams to name a few that I’ve seen (Batman and Uncle Scrooge fanatic that I am).
In my experience, nothing excites and unnerves a geek more than pitting his (or her) favorite imaginary character against a rival fictional character in a hypothetical showdown to the figurative death. Nothing. My good friend, Rodney, believes with every fiber of his being that Jason Bourne epitomizes ‘badass.’ Yeah, Matt Damon . . . badass . . . My friend is somewhat goofy in the head. Rodney has even gone to such lengths to name his iPhone after the chronic amnesiac, and dubbing himself ‘The Rod Identity,’ secret sidekick to the world’s most kickass secret agent Again, the guy’s goofy in the head.
Still like all zealots, Rodney actively sought altercations with those who believed Mr. Bourne had proven himself . . . slightly less-than-awesome. As so often was the case, the argument exploded from a deep intellectual discussion on the quality of Hugh Jackman’s performance in The Wolverine while on vacation last July . . .
We had just exited the theater at Downtown Disney, a cornucopia of Disney merchandise, theme restaurants, and — my favorite — AMC theaters. Both Ryan and Rodney, having tragically lost half-a-dozen tennis matches two weeks prior owed the gang lunch, ice cream, and a few hours at the local cineplex. We had spent much of the day at Animal Kingdom, sweating in lines and jumping between sunshine and deluges of afternoon thunderstorms. As the evening sky cleared, we felt grateful for the safety of soft red velvet and an air-conditioned movie theater. I had suggested Marvel’s latest superhero tale — thus, harmonizing my love for Japanese culture with my passion for Canadian mutant assassins — at AMC’s Dine-in theater where we snacked on sushi, mozzarella sticks, and bread pudding . . . mmmm.
Yeah, so before we begin, I should explain that texting with my family is a creative experience, a workshop for the mind. Most days I like to spice up our conversations in simple but unusual ways: reversing words (sdrow gnisrever), texting in the third person (Murph enjoyed Ridley Scott’s Prometheus), or conceiving complex stories moments from erupting in the midst of mundane arguments. As an obsessive-compulsive reader, these are some of my favorite kinds of tales anyhow. Outcasts entangled in affairs of grave importance and dire consequence . . . and zombies. You can never go wrong with zombies.
Our yearly sojourn to Florida launches in about two weeks. Mom and the girls are already mapping out new summer wardrobes with the fervor of gold-greedy conquistadors: new shoes, dresses, skirts, blouses, jeans, sandals and even the accursed swimsuits. The flotsam of many a shopping excursion litter their rooms, beds, and dressers like giant jigsaw pieces, waiting to be folded, twisted and rolled into a small leather case. After two weeks, they scamper through the halls, racing from room to room, to stuff the last tube of toothpaste, or hair gel, or razor, or shampoo. Once that’s finished, I’ll hear the screams and shouts for headphones, magazines, iPods, iPads, phones, computers, pillows, chargers, gum, water, snacks, and DVDs to ease the long drive, most of which will be spent sleeping. Somehow during this final stage, the men of the household are inevitably blamed for moving too slow, not helping, or not panicking enough for the girls’ taste. Yet for the boys, an hour before departure proves more than enough time to stuff underwear, socks, and the untouched dregs of the dresser drawers into a duffel, download plane tickets, and depart. Done. Continue reading
“Nerd. Nerd. Nerd,” Dasad muttered, pointing at the sundry collection of costumed moviegoers, the vast majority sporting Marvel-themed t-shirts. “God, we’ve landed in some antisocial geek convention. Again.”
“It’s just a movie, dude,” I sigh. “Try to enjoy the energy from the crowd. Everyone’s been waiting years for this moment.”
Dasad and I had decided see the Avengers a few Saturdays ago, a day after Disney had released it here stateside to glowing reviews both from fans and reviewers alike. Many of us, myself include, were simply happy the film was so well received as it guaranteed the superhero genre had not yet jumped the shark. However, not everyone was enjoying the growing anticipation — not vocally at any rate.
“You do realize that you’re a computer science major, right?” I argue. “You work all day long building databases and designing web sites. You’re not just a geek, man. You’re a prince.”
“Ha! And what does that make you?” he laughed. “You dabble in every nerd world there is: super-heroes, hobbits, anime, manga, and semi-clad bishoujo figurines. All tucked away in your parents’ basement. What does that make you?”
“A king. But don’t tell anyone,” I whisper. “I’m traveling incognito.” Continue reading
Lately I’ve been immersing myself in the works of O. Henry so much so that I decided to write my own for geeks like me. Imitating another author’s writing style is not as easy as it first sounds — mostly because the gauge for success is rather ambiguous — but anything that helps me become a better writer . . . well, I’m not going to ignore.
Regrettably, the sibling response was decidedly mixed. Katie really enjoyed it, while my dearest brother after some consideration responded with a ‘meh.’ Needless to say, I’m anticipating proofreading his next law brief. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story — more than Sean, at least.
Luddites in Love
With the exception of honeybees, ants, and reality TV starlets, the modern American citizen communicates more than any other species on earth. Since the dawn of the iPod, it is said that the human species has stumbled upon the evolutionary fast-track to cyborg-ification. Cell phones strapped to our ears; fingers typing out ten texts per picosecond; cat videos by the billions streaming on YouTube. From dawn to dark, we expose our life’s tapestry of photos, quotes, and gossip before an expectant public like specimens in a digital zoo, to be ogled, examined, and meme-ed at the first opportunity. The sum total of pheromones exuded by the world’s ant population palls to a day’s worth of status updates from an average college sorority. Continue reading