A moment of odd beauty in the elevator this morning

For Marcus

How do we compartmentalize our emotions? In the face of adversity and tragedy I tend to make jokes and laugh. Some people cry. Some people eat, or take their anger out on others, or beat the fuck out of Fluffy. Whichever the method, differentiating between our highs and lows is not a skill we learn in high school. So, how do we figure it all out?

Is a man commended for acting cool under pressure, or is he seen as cold and aloof? If we were in a war I want a leader who doesn't bat an eye when soldiers die all around him. But if I trip and fall on my way up the stairs to have sex resulting in multiple broken bones, I think I might need a hug.

The compartments have a hierarchy. Some things are more important than others. Getting laid isn't as important as protecting freedom. But in our minds they're one and the same. There are things we set out to do and do them we must regardless of what gets in the way. If I need to get up those stairs because there's a woman waiting for me, I'm going to get up those stairs broken bones and all. I'll get to the hospital... after we have sex. If I'm planning an outdoor wedding and it rains, I'm standing under those drenching skies with my bride and saying I Do.  If the last donut falls to the floor I'm eating that fucking donut.

Dirty, wet, broken, it doesn't matter, because we have plans. Plans must be carried out. No matter the cost. No matter the pain. If the cost of freedom is crawling through a mile of shit, I'll look forward to the shower at the end. Because freedom is worth it.

Love is worth it. Terrible things happen all the time all over the world, but we can't stop our lives to lament and be sad when it's our turn to cheer and be happy. It's our turn now. You can mourn the losses, but do not forget to reach for that golden ring. It's dangling right in front of you. Fucking grab it, man.

Pixel Love

In 2002, Lynette and I bought a Nintendo GameCube and played a lot of Animal Crossing. A lot. It was a blast. If you don't know anything about Animal Crossing you are definitely missing out. In a sentence, it's a game about nothing. You live in a little village and you maintain a little house and talk to cute, animal neighbors and go fishing, etc, etc, etc. If Zen could be packaged in video game form, Animal Crossing is it.

So, last week Nintendo released a new iteration of Animal Crossing specifically for the Nintendo 3DS and I bought a limited edition Animal Crossing themed 3DS (with the new game pre-installed) for Lynette for our 14th wedding anniversary.

I know societal conventions dictate that I'm supposed to buy flowers and jewelry for my wife on our wedding anniversary, but we're not a typical couple. Sure, my bride enjoys flowers and jewelry as much as the next woman. And she gets 'em. But flowers only provide a very minute amount of time for enjoyment, whereas Animal Crossing (and any other game on the 3DS) will entertain my gorgeous chick for days/weeks/years!

Anyway, the name of my Animal Crossing town is Pinetree. Stop by if you need any pears!

Pew Pew Pew

Y'all been yearning for some nerd? (Nerd Yearn?)

Last week E3 happened. It's an annual electronics expo where all the major video game companies show off their up coming wares, games, etc. This year Microsoft and Sony unveiled their new consoles, the Xbox One and PS4. For nerds, gamers, and general homebody introverts like myself it's like the Super Bowl of geek. I love it. And this year shit got real.

There was high drama among the gaming community. Along with their unveiling of the new Xbox One, Microsoft also announced some "features" of the new console, and not only did the shit hit the fan, but the fan was on high and the shit splattered all over the internet! Apparently, the new Xbox One MUST always be connected to the internet. And it MUST "check in" with the mothership once a day. AND buying/playing/selling used games will no longer be allowed. These restrictions are referred to as DRM (Digital Rights Management). It's a way for game publishers to limit piracy of their software. But what it also does is restricts someone who purchased the software to lend or sell their game to anyone. Also, DRM restrictions assumes everyone is always connected to the internet all the time. Additionally, in case the DRM restrictions weren't enough to ruffle feathers, the new Xbox One will not work unless Kinect is connected. Which means that Microsoft's eye will always be on watching you get late night blowjobs on the couch of your living room. In light of the recent news that the NSA illegally monitors all your emails, this ain't cool. Not cool at all.

Then Sony unveils their new PS4 and guess what... Not only are there no DRM restrictions for their system, but the PS4 will also sell for $100 less than the Xbox One. They even made a funny video sticking it to their competitors explaining how PS4 users can share games: Step One: Hand the game to a friend. Done! Sony also won't have a HAL-9000-like presence in your home all day and night.

Like I said, high drama. Microsoft is currently backpedaling and removing the DRM restrictions for the new console, but the damage is done. Once someone pulls a gun out at a party the party is ruined. Gamers will still end up buying both, but this will go down as one hell of a debacle for Microsoft.

Meanwhile, Nintendo is sitting idly by watching the nonsense. The Wii U and 3DS are an amazing consoles with amazing games at half the price.

Sailing

Not that there's anything wrong with a little pomp. I like my brides in gorgeous white dresses, my post-game press conference athletes in shiny, designer suits, and my wife of 14 years in lacy, expensive underpants. You can only wrap presents in newspaper so many times before people start giving up on you.

Last week I stepped up my wardrobe at work. Slacks and ties, motherfucker. And guess what - it matters. I know it shouldn't, but it does. People treat me differently. People take me more seriously. Women want to have sex with me. But you can only wear sweat pants among doctors for a limited amount of time before people start giving up on you. And honestly, shoes really do make the man. It's all about the shoes.

So, yesterday I wasn't ragging on formal weddings. I was merely pointing out that we, humans, tend to miss the forest for the trees. Yes, I want you to look pretty. But, yes, I want you to remember the important things are so tiny, microscopic, that it's easy to forget.

Also, I met a guy last weekend who said he has connections and can get Christopher Cross to perform anywhere for $10,000. So, if I really had it to do all over again, I'd shell out the ten grand and get Christopher Cross to play "Sailing" at my wedding. I'd take out a loan if I had to. (Not joking.)

Marriage is a canoe, not a kayak.

"Just drop 'em," said the guy at Men's Warehouse when I returned six tuxedo rentals yesterday. So I said back to him, "Oh, so they're like Christmas trees." Precious until the morning after. A heaping pile of used, discarded, smelly fabric. Once symbols of elegance, only to be added to the retched mound of refuse.

Looking back, as I told Ross before The Big Day, things enormous quickly become insignificant. So much of our daily lives are like tuxedo rentals. In the end we're going to wonder why we spent so much time and energy caring for and worrying about the little things.

I was talking to Lynette about our wedding which was 14 years ago and imagined a wedding without tuxedos and perfection. I envisioned a circle of tents in the woods with a camp fire and an official who could legally perform the union. Then music and dancing and stars and sky.

14 years later I realized that the symbolic crap regarding a beautiful marriage doesn't come from Men's Warehouse. A strong lasting marriage rears its head when the baby vomits, or when a spouse's mother dies. These are the pillars of a lasting foundation. Not the boutineer that I struggled to attach to my lapel.

Weddings should end with the couple boarding a canoe. Because if you've ever paddled a canoe you know how it tests the bonds of the two people involved. One person cannot paddle it alone.

That Sun Guy is Bulemic

I've been skipping breakfast lately. On mornings I don't get to the gym. Shouldn't that guy dressed as a giant sandwich be accosting me here at work to give me something to eat? (Actually, he's dressed as the Sun, but I'm seeing sandwiches right now.)

Food. Am I right?

I've been dealing with weight issues my whole life. And when I wasn't fat, I didn't know it. How's that for a mind fuck? I was quite svelte in college, but who knew? Let's see what happens at age 40. I'm one pound away from losing 30 lbs. since January. I want to be a hot dad.

Our Shells

I'm in the midst of changing my wardrobe. Gone are the days of Dockers khaki pants. I've gone through so many Dockers khaki pants and only just recently came to the sudden realization that every time I wore them I looked like a giant manchild on his way to church. Nothing says I will wear the bare minimum attire scraped from the bottom of the office dress code than a pair of Dockers khaki pants. Wrinkled, nonetheless.

Anyway, I'm changing my wardrobe. Real pants. And shirts packaged in plastic and stick pins. I'm not trying to be overly hoity-toity. It's just that I have a real good chance of getting a bog promotion at work and, well, you know what they say: Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.

So I've been doing some shopping, and I feel like a whole new world has opened up. Before, the only times I ventured into that section of the store where you find all the nice shirts packaged in plastic was funerals and weddings. (By the way, I am so ready for someone to die! I already have something to wear!) Now, I know exactly what size I am (17 1/2 36-37) and selecting ties is kind of fun.

Oh shit - Does this mean I'm getting old? Well, for the record, in the evenings and weekends you'll find me wearing the same old pair of gym shorts and my lucky bathrobe.

Music Appreciation: Drop City Yacht Club

Remember when I said Daft Punk's "Get Lucky" was going to be the song of the summer? Scratch that. It's this one.