The World According To Chuck

Wed, 28 Feb 2007 17:10:04 GMT

Chuck Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Goodbye to Radioland. This blog has now officially moved here. Come on over. There are toys and everything.

Mon, 26 Feb 2007 19:03:22 GMT

Post Post

After a week off school for Winter Break, my son actually took a shower last night, went to bed at a reasonable hour, and got up in time (loosely defined) to make it to school. This is a miracle on par with...I dunno...maybe

Alan Arkin winning an Oscar? YOU THINK?

I can't begin to express how much I love Alan Arkin, except to say I love him so much I actually love Adam Arkin, that's how much.

What's funny about all this is that I thought Arkin's character in "Little Miss Sunshine" was the weakest part of that film (which I also loved), but for a very specific and maybe selfish reason (I'll be quiet about it since maybe now some of you will rent it. For those of you who've seen it, let's just picture a scene at the end where Arkin's character is saying, "What? What's the big deal?" as the van drives away. That's the flaw I saw. 'Nuff said).

I actually had an Arkin conversation a week or so ago when I was huffing my way up the hill from downtown Seattle to my car, which was conveniently parked at Eighth and Madison while I was watching a movie ("Little Children"; also very good) at Seventh and Pike. If you don't know Seattle, the difference between these two locations is all about elevation.

Anyway, the friend I was with had actually never seen "The In-Laws," therefore not being a serious Arkin fan at all, so I was describing that film and we were talking about how his career never really peaked, etc. And now here he is, 73 and bald and holding a statue last night. I couldn't be happier for him. Or Forrest, or Jennifer Hudson, or Helen Mirren, who is so hot I'm wondering about myself now. First Nancy Pelosi, now Helen. I'm developing a thing for 60-somethings.

Not Hillary though. I sort of want her to go away. But Nancy and Helen are women I can appreciate.

I went out to a meeting last night and so TiVo-ed the Oscars, thinking I'd just whiz through later. Listen: It's not the same thing at all. Just sucks the life out of the experience.

But yay for Alan.

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Some fun things may be happening very soon to this blog, in terms of it moving to a new site with fancy furniture, lots of widgets, gratuitous nudity, spellchecking, etc. I'll let you know.

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One more Oscar note. You gotta love Al Gore. He's going to the Academy Awards, surely he knows this well in advance, and he still didn't bother to drop those extra 60 pounds.

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Finally, a woman in my household turns 52 tomorrow. She'll be gone all day, as usual, but she's instructed her students to bring cake to class, and maybe I'll make her some brownies. She really likes brownies. And I probably need to be nice to her, because if I've done the math right in 10 years or so she'll be in her 60s, which obviously is when the female hotness gene kicks in.

I, on the other hand, will look like Al Gore, but then probably so will George Clooney. And Alec Baldwin is pretty much already there.

Sun, 25 Feb 2007 04:12:18 GMT

An Update Has Been Successfully Installed

What I want, I know, is to make a decision. Any decision would be pretty nice. I just want to cross something off the list as done. The joke on me, of course, is that the list is pretty damn long, and getting longer.

What I'm feeling, I know, is impatience. I got stuck and stayed stuck, in many, many ways, for a long, long time, and now I'm unstuck and I'm not used to it. I think there should be more action going on. *sigh* Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly...

What I'm missing, I know, is a mission statement. I'm not talking about divine inspiration, or a sign -- if I told you how many times a week I become aware of signs, of directions popping up all over the place, you might be concerned and/or pushing pharmaceuticals. It's as if someone has shoved a spotlight into the woods. But I still wouldn't mind having it spelled out for me. I'm not asking for elaborate. A burning dandelion would be OK.

What I've been doing, I know, is writing.

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I kept dancing around the idea of killing off this blog. I don't seem to have the time, or inspiration, or patience. I also don't want to be Wistful Dad anymore, or Nice Husband or Troubled Man or whatever I've seemed for the past few years. There were times I hung on to all that, and I apologize for nothing (especially sentiment; shame on you if you think sentiment is something to be stomped on, and some of you do), but there's a time and place and I'm not all that interested right now.

Still, the blog is my primary Web presence, and that's a practical thing. And it belongs to me for another six months anyway, all paid up. So maybe I'll hang onto it for a little while longer, just to see what might happen.

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Six months ago today, I headed over the mountains. It almost seems whimsical, now; I had really no idea what to expect, or what I wanted, or why I was going other than people who cared about me said it was a good idea, and I was going to die anyway so maybe I should at least have one last road trip. Such was my state of mind.

I can't describe the changes. Oh, I can, in the sense that I could give you a laundry list, but it wouldn't be much in the way of an explanation. Just sort of a memo, maybe, the nuts and bolts of newness. And everything is new, believe me. I wake up in the morning and want to introduce myself to me, that's how new.

But I can tell you physical stuff. My skin is better. My body has lost bloat, if not a lot of weight. My sense of smell, oddly enough, seems enhanced. My sleep has improved.

And a couple of weeks ago, my brain woke up. The circulation returned and my whole head tingled, and that's how I knew I'd been writing all along.

See, I had this idea of writing a book about a year in the life of a guy who got a pardon at the last minute. I would be an apologist for addicts, I thought, explaining and making jokes along the way, but then that's probably been done enough. I also came to the conclusion that I have no advice to give at all, just a story. This is where I was, this is where I am, this is where I went, this is how I came to be here.

The trick, of course, is to make it interesting. Your guess is as good as mine, but I've been writing it anyway. Give me another six months and we'll see where we are.

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The other night I sat in an AA meeting and listened to this kid talk. He's about John's age, and I've known him for a while now. He makes me smile; he's rigorously honest and serious, and he swears like a sailor, the way young people do when they think everybody talks that way.

He described his life now, some of his struggles and frustrations, and then he mentioned that he'd been sober for seven months and that he was proud of himself. Everybody clapped, and I leaned over and said, "We're all proud of you," and it was suddenly like an out-of-body experience.

It's just unlike me. I'm a nice person but I'm reserved with people I don't know that well.

He looked at me, and his eyes got big and he mouthed, "Thank you," and I had an epiphany.

No, not an epiphany. More like a whisper.

you made a difference

And then

stay alive

OK.

Sun, 11 Feb 2007 20:11:21 GMT

Media Matters

I could start another blog just about the dumb things I do. I could post every day. I could, in fact, start another blog in which I only post about burning myself while cooking.

Friday, though, was sort of remarkable in the annals of dumbness. And, again, I have quite a list, which I archive on a spreadsheet and back up to a CD every week, thus firmly establishing my personality as annal retentive.

My son is a gamer. I think I've mentioned that before. Lots of people are, of course, and it's not limited to a particular generation; I know a guy, in his mid-40s, who spends four hours a night, every night, more on weekends, playing "World of Warcraft" online (he heals dwarves or something).

Add, in John's case, a peculiar neurology and it's an important aspect of his life. So we take it very seriously, even if we might hope that he'd develop another hobby. Such as mopping.

He has multiple systems, an account at the local rental store, magazines, peripherals, etc. When the Nintendo Wii system came out, it seemed an easy choice, but I wasn't about to put any energy into fighting the Christmas rush. Instead, we got him a nice flat screen HD-ready TV that he could transport from room to room, and waited for Wii Winter. Since his birthday is in February, you see.

So, Friday morning, after getting him off to school on his birthday morning, I casually wandered out to the local game store to pick up his Wii so he'd have it when he got home in the afternoon.

I can still hear the nerdish laughter, ringing in my ears.

Apparently stores get delivery of more Wii systems once a week or so, and sell out in slightly under 45 minutes. Go figure. I was, like, run out to the store, get some groceries, mail a letter, put air in the tires, buy a Wii, chat with the neighbors, fill up the gas tank, and come back home. Just basic errand running.

It worked out OK. Actually, this may have been his best birthday yet. It was a great day, with an Aspie friend coming home with him for the afternoon and then the two families uniting for a birthday dinner at John's favorite restaurant.

And the X-Box 360 I bought out of enormous guilt and desperation, even though it cost me a hundred bucks more than I was prepared to spend that day.

That's all to have to say about that, except to note that the 360 is made for high def, and in case you haven't gotten around to checking out the future of video I can tell you that it's for real. It almost hurts to watch, it's that sharp. I've got to go out now and rent an HD DVD so I can watch a movie on it as soon as John falls asleep, which I don't think has happened yet and it's Sunday already.

Which brings me to what was really on my mind...

Faithful readers of this blog, and faith is often what you need, know about my affection for NetFlix. I've been a subscriber for six years and have been thoroughly pleased with the service. It has met my needs, inexpensive rentals, lots of titles, and no late fees, which had started to become a budget item on par with a car payment. Since I haven't had a car payment in 10 years, you can see the attraction.

But I saw a pattern developing. I was renting titles just to rent something, and then watching them because they were here. Sort of like what happens to me and donuts.

So I decided a NetFlix break, or at least downgrade, was in order. Still, there are times when I just would like to watch something, to kill some time or relax or avoid the mopping thing. Channel hopping is not a fun activity for me, either; I want ordered choices and I want to be in charge.

So I got a TiVo.

Faithful readers will also be aware that I don't watch much television, haven't for years. I have my Sorkin Night (Wednesdays, then Sundays and now Mondays), and I try to stay with "ER" even though it's become "General Hospital," but that's about it. Some news if there's anything interesting going on, occasionally sports, but my remote control can get dusty. So what's with TiVo, God's gift to the horizontally inclined?

It was free.

Also, it's a toy. Shut up.

There are positives. No more sitting through commercials (or loading a tape into the VCR). I can record "The Daily Show" and "Good Eats" from here to eternity and skim through the ones I want to watch. I can keep a collection of films (albeit edited, with some exceptions) on disk for those times when I want some spontaneous entertainment.

The negatives are pretty much along the same lines as DVDs and donuts: If it's around, I feel the need to consume. So suddenly my television celibacy has been mightily tempted.

Moderation will always be the virtue that needs the most work, for me. I'm aware of this, and of denial and obsession and all the other parts of my particular personality that are less than attractive.

But TiVo is pretty cool. Just for the record. As are Jon Stewart and Alton Brown. TV may be a vast wasteland but once in a while there's a nice oasis, usually tucked into a cable corner at 2 a.m. And experience has taught me (one hopes) that addictive behavior comes with warning signs, if one knows what to look for, so I stay on guard and leave the TV off and go outside to look at the Cascades from time to time, understanding that there are just so many hours in the day and that the kitchen floor has, by the way, gotten awfully sticky lately.

Fri, 09 Feb 2007 15:04:34 GMT

Boys Will Be

One of the odd and elegant benefits of being a parent is that you remember what should have been insignificant details of a perfectly random day, just another calendar flip, and you remember them forever. What you wore, what you ate, what you thought about, and how you felt when the sun rose over a world that had just gotten another friend to play with.

It makes you think that maybe there is no such thing as a random day.

It sort of makes you believe, you know?

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When my son John was 4 years old, we sat outside on a summer night and stared at the stars, and he told me of another lifetime.

"I was a man once," he said matter-of-factly, "and I drove a red car. It crashed in the desert and I died and went to heaven. I liked it there but God said you needed me here, so I came." Years later he claimed not to remember this, or speculated that he got the idea from TV. I wonder.

As a baby, he wouldn't meet your eye. He'd play for hours by himself with a single toy, all the time humming or babbling. He could be impulsive to an alarming degree, fixating on one object or goal with enormous concentration. He loved to laugh and had a great one, loud and hooting. It took him longer than usual to begin to talk.

He was extremely sensitive to smells and tastes, and the way clothes felt on his body. He'd wear his shirts and sweat pants inside out to avoid the feel of the tags on his skin. One day he came into the kitchen dressed in his usual layers of clothing, all backwards, and his sister laughed. "Here comes the inside-out boy," she said.

My son is autistic. He has Asperger's Syndrome (AS), a neurological condition, a wiring thing. People with AS lack the ability to perceive nonverbal clues, to read body language and understand inflection and intonation, things most of us learn innately at a young age. Social norms are often bewildering to them. Innocent comments or loud voices can be interpreted as threats. They sometimes stand too close, say inappropriate things, and get frustrated by messages they can't receive.

They can share traits with sufferers of more severe, debilitating forms of autism: Certain repetitive movements, tics and twitches, vocal mannerisms and odd speech. AS people are fortunate, though, in that they often desire to reach out from inside their isolated shells to interact with the rest of us; they just don't know how.

...He sometimes sees himself as Data, the android from "Star Trek" who yearned to become human. I understand this, but there are times, when he senses I'm having a rough day and hugs me, ruffles my hair and tells me I'm a great dad, that I think he's the most human person I know.

I don't know what he thinks of my life, but I know he loves me. I don't know what his future holds, but I'm confident it's bright. I don't know if he was sent here from heaven by God because I needed him. I have no idea.

I think about it a lot, though.

--The Inside-Out Boy, The World According To Chuck (Xlibris, October 2004)

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Sat, 03 Feb 2007 01:54:52 GMT

Wanna Go Fast

Julie was packing up her stuff to leave school the other day and dropped her laptop. Fortunately it was turned off, and no damage was done. This is because she is a nice person, and goodness and mercy will follow her all her days, while I shall dwell in the house of Circuit City.

No, I didn't actually drop my laptop. I was reaching behind to plug in my printer cable and sort of nudged it. Gravity being fairly strong this time of year, it tumbled directly onto my wireless card. Internet go bye.

(I have to add something here. In addition to my laptop accident, a few days ago I came out of the grocery store with my arms full, stepped on the corner of the wheelchair ramp at the entrance, and went sprawling onto the parking lot, groceries everywhere, landing on my formerly reconstructed shoulder. Just a little klutz update. I am becoming Meg.)

I don't like to be disconnected from the 'net. I do not like it at all. Also, there are some income-producing issues.

Since I obviously squished some innards, I had to go with a UBS adapter, which seems to be working okay, but I still regret a little that I bought this machine in the nascent WiFi days (i.e., three years ago) before wireless went internal without asking please.

Bringing me to a question for any of you savvy readers in computerese. The rest of you can stop reading now if you want.

This is a very inexpensive, entry-level laptop with one interesting twist (I'll get to it). Since lately I've been doing some serious processing work, I cleaned up my chintzy hard drive (30Gb) to about 70% free, made sure I was adware/spyware free (I also downloaded Windows Defender, which seems to be working the way it's supposed to), and added RAM (now 640MB). Everything just clicks along fine, very fast, BUT...

I can't watch streaming video.

I can upload streaming video, and you guys can watch it, but I can't.

Oh, I can watch it. And sometimes even, particularly late or early, it's decent, but usually it's incredibly balky, as jerky as Steve Martin in his first feature film. I usually give up, and if I really want to see something online I use Julie's computer, or John's iMac, which just whizzes, even in full screen mode. Even though we're all on the same wireless network and in the same house, and sometimes in the same room.

Ah, Chuck, you're saying right now, it's your processor. So get this: I have a 2.4GHz Intel Celeron. 2.4. Compared to Julie's 1.6 and John's 1.8.

Maybe the Celeron is an inferior chip; I dunno. But if anybody has a clue as to why video streams, and only video streams, are slooooow for me, I'd appreciate it.

In return, next time I'll tell you about my close encounter with the Devil, who wears many hats but sometimes looks like this:

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 05:56:09 GMT

Straightening Up

I've put a couple of new links over on the left. Since the response to my snippets of home video was so overwhelming (and to think, I still have seven fingers to count on!), I've moved that category onto a separate page, which I will add to most likely from time to time. If watching random scenes from somebody else's life is your idea of a good time, this is for you.

Also, since my weekly columns either get posted online or don't, and you never know, and since they then disappear into the nothingness they sometimes richly deserve, I've decided to do a little ad hoc archiving on this blog, at least for the time being. Meaning until I remember how to use the Web design software I bought for 20 bucks two years ago to create my other site. So far we've got 2007, which is a start.

Finally, this isn't on the left (or the right, or the mushy middle), but if you have some hours to kill check out these World War II-era color photographs at the Library of Congress. Feel free to steal them, too; your tax dollars at work.

Remind me to tell you about my latest toy, too.