My Cynicism Is Showing Today

If, as I have been frequently told, life is a gift, then why are we expected to give it back?

Slower Than Usual

Yesterday I mentioned in passing about the last mechanical typewriter plant in the world being shut down.

Elapsed time for someone to point out how wrong I was:  A little over 24 hours.

I really do love the Information Age.

Getting This Sentimental Is Probably A Boo Boo, But So What?

Things change.  We all know this.  (How many of us admit this to ourselves is another matter entirely, of course.) 

For instance, someone I know got a tad sentimental at the news that the world’s last mechanical typewriter plant has shut its doors.  And while this news didn’t particularly faze me because there’s enough typewriters in this world that I doubt it’ll be anytime soon where I’ll have any difficulties finding one to point out to L. should he be curious, some things are gone permanently save for a visit to the museum wing of the Akashic records.

“Yogi’s Cave,” which used to be at King’s Dominion, is one of those things.  No, it wasn’t the greatest attraction ever by a long shot, but I can’t help but feel the world is a poorer place since its consignment to oblivion.   

And while a day pass to the Akashic records is a bit difficult for me to arrange, for those who are curious about what I got a little misty eyed over and raised a glass to yesterday, I did stumble over some old video footage (running from approximately 0:30 to 3:30) up on YouTube.

For all its faults, I love the Information Age.

More On This Tomorrow

We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it.

– George Eliot

Whatcha Gonna Do?

“Oh, he was ‘evil,’ (1) you say?  Tell me more,” she said with a glint in her eye.  “I just love bad boys!”

And while she sat there picturing a misunderstood rebel with haunting eyes to fill her nights with passion then break her heart, I tried, without success at first, to explain I was talking about a man to break her ribs, then laugh at her while she bled.  In the end, it took my spelling out that on top of all his other repulsive traits, every one of his daughters seemed to feel the need to leave the house once they came of a certain age (but still far too young to leave home), and never looked back.

That finally triggered the light of comprehension in her eyes, and she finally stopped asking me to tell her more about this particular “bad boy.”

Better a lesson learned late than never, I suppose.

(1) A word I do not use casually, by the way.

Saving Face (Part Four)

Now mind you, I hadn’t thought of that in years.  (As the picture record can show you, it’s been . . . let’s just say “some time” since I’ve bothered to hide my ears with my hair.)  It took someone cooing over your “perfect little ears” to trigger the memory.

Memory can be a funny thing. 

It’s been a long (long, long, long, long) time, but that also reminded me of being “cute” as a child . . . and how much I loathed and resented it.  My mantra for literally years was “I am not cute!  I am not adorable!” and I felt an indescribable sense of relief the day it stopped being an issue.  

But it might work out better for you, son.

A lot of that is up to you to decide, of course, because while I made the right choice for me, I did too quickly dismiss the advantages of being cute.  Cute people tend to be treated better, and while being cute (particularly a cute boy) can also lead one into some difficulties, a genial disposition (as well as another trait which we’ll discuss later) will generally see you through.  The disposition I think you’ve got down already, and if you like, we can work on the other trait after our discussion.

Whatever you decide and however it works out, I’ve got your back.

Saving Face (Part Three)

But in all seriousness, son, the subject of personal appearance can be a touchy subject for many, perhaps even most, people, which is why I keep slipping into a lighthearted tone; it makes talking about the subject a little easier.  I doubt there’s too many people in this world that look at themselves and see themselves simply as they really are.  Even if it’s not by much, the tendency seems to be for people to exaggerate some things they see in themselves, and completely overlook other things.  They do this with both the good and the bad, but for whatever reason, most people seem to favor exaggerating the bad and overlooking the good.  I’m not really sure why this is.

But I have my suspicions.

Regardless, something I do know is that I’m not immune to this effect myself, though I flatter myself that I mostly manage to keep the distortions in my self-image relatively minor.  For instance, by the time you read this, I don’t know if my hair will still be as long as it is now, but even if it’s not, you’ll almost certainly have seen pictures (despite my best efforts to avoid them).  Want to know a secret?  One of the reasons I originally let my hair grow was so that it covered my ears so they wouldn’t show because I didn’t like the way they looked.

Silly, huh?

Saving Face (Part Two)

But it is interesting to me to see some of my physical features mirrored in you, son; there’s no doubt they look good on you, certainly better than they do on me . . . far better. 

There’s a fine line between self-esteem and self-delusion, kiddo, and that line is held by self-honesty, and honestly, son, I’m not that much to look at.  Oh, I don’t break any mirrors (ignore the rumors that neither do I reflect in them), but my countenance hardly makes mirrors weep for joy either.  On a good day, the best I can reasonably pull off is “striking,” and even then it’s a fair interpretation to point out that could be taken to mean that either I’ve got a face that people want to hit, or a face with some features visible enough from orbit to allow for precise targeting.

Yes, I’m being facetious again.  It’s fun, you should try it sometime.

Saving Face (Part One)

I’m going to level with you, son.  Something about fatherhood continues to perplex me; specifically, just how often I keep hearing “Your son is so cute!  He looks just like you!”

Honestly, my gut reaction to that is “Make up your mind, it can’t be both!”  And since you are cute, the part about you looking like me must, by definition, be them cruelly teasing me for some reason, but I don’t remember doing anything bad enough to the people who keep saying this to warrant being treated like that.  (I keep track of these things, you know.) 

Yes, son, you’re right.  I am being facetious.  (Your vocabulary is getting pretty advanced for a five-month-old, by the way.)

Correction

Remember when I said last Monday that it “may” be a long week?

Apparently what I meant to say was that it’s going to be a long two weeks . . . at least.

My mistake.