Humble scribblings

Well, it's been a while since I've posted here. Sorry 'bouts that. Anyway, let's get down to it.

While playing on the Galactica Watercooler forum, there was a thread started by a member named Solai. The thread was called Three Word Story, The Story so Far (Re-imagined). The concept was to take a section of a thread called The three wrod at a time story--BSG style and create a real narrative.

As I've mentioned elsewhere on this blog, I enjoyed writing as a teen but never pursued that particular passion. I would get bogged down in brow beating and a desire for perfection. I would start and never complete any stories. Many people would tell me, just write but I never listened. Ah, regrets I've had a few.

Anyway, so I posted a reply to the thread and received humble praise. More importantly, I completed something and really enjoyed it. So I caught what some would say the bug. Who are these people that say such things anyway? Never mind. Since that initial post I have been posting what some would consider fan-fiction. There are those "some" people again. Onward. Onward. Fan-fiction, the word alone brings about shivers. Why? I don't know. I've heard that "some" people take it too far. In my own experience, I'm just having a bit of fun. In the process, I have accumulated a fan base and enjoyed the notoriety.

Finally, filled with delusions of grandeur I posted on the intimidating Sciffy forum. I thought my humble scribblings would be viewed by none other than Ronald D. Moore, the creator of Battlestar Galactica. He would be so totally overwhelmed and impressed and I would be whisked away on a private jet and offered a writing job with his elite staff.

Yeah, alright that didn't happen. Instead I was overwhelmed with the mother-lode that is fan-fic. Holy guacamole! There is a bunch. In the process, I posted my own creations on fanfiction.net and a forum called Battlestar Central. Give it a look and drop me a review. Let me know what you think.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum

I've decided to open a forum. On the right hand side you'll see a link to it. Lately, I've been feeling like an audience of one. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind that. I'm a self-centered, ego maniac with delusions of his self importance. But you know that already.

I've recently hit the forum scene and got the bug. I posted on a forum hosted by some podcasters at Galactica Watercooler. My comments intially caused a minor tremor but have since dissipated. I think at this point the crew has grown tired of me. I was surprised by the feelings that were conjured up as a result. I felt needy and insecure. "Respond to me. Tell me how funny and insightful I am!!" It's pitiful and shameful and well, let's face it, I'm used to that. So in my quest for more abuse, voila a forum. So, in a few weeks when there are still 2 posts there, I'll submit to the subjugation of self-loathing.

Resistance is Futile

As you can imagine, in every geek's life there comes a time when they must invite a significant other into their world. It's a difficult decision since there is a possibility of rejection. Will this person embrace this new realm or treat it with disdain and disgust? There is a rite of passage that must be performed.

I had been in a pretty serious relationship for a while and knew the time had come to test the waters. There was a Star Trek marathon counting down the top 10 original series episodes on WPIX. This would be a perfect opportunity.

I dropped several hints about the marathon and finally on the day before, while we talked on the phone, I dropped the bomb, "You're more than welcome to join me. It starts at 8. I could pick you up and we could watch it together." I took a risk and waited. "Sure," was her reply.

So the next day I picked her up and we went to my house since I would be recording the festivities on me VCR. Incidentally, her mother was furious. "What are you gonna do all day? Why is he picking you up at 6am?" Et cetera. Et cetera. Being a parent of two girls I now understand her concern. I love the innocence and irony of it, though. We were watching Star Trek, hilarious.

Two hours in, she turned to me and said, "You were planning on watching this all day?" Normally the response would be, "DUH!" but this was a delicate situation. Our whole relationship rested on it. "Yeah sure. I've been looking forward to this." She retorted, "You've seen all of these before, right?" She just didn't understand and this could get tricky. However, with every relationship there requires a bit of sacrifice and compromise so I said, "We could take a break."

She had an affinity for thrift joints and remembered passing an Odd-Lot. She mentioned checking it out and getting some lunch. I could set the VCR and go. There would be no issue. I could always watch later. It should be mentioned here that I absolutely despise thrift joints but when you're in love you'll do weird things.

After lunch we went back to the marathon. While we watched I looked for a glimmer of interest. Anything that might give her a chance at conversion. The moment came, "Spock looks cool with that goatee!" and so the scifi arena was open to discussion. Spock, the lady killer, was my redeemer. Mission accomplished. I said, "Let's get outta here and get something to eat."









Over time she took more and more interest in sci-fi but the clincher was when 'The Undiscovered Country' was released. I said I wanted to see it on my birthday. Over the next couple of weeks we saw it 9 times and most of the time she brought the option up. She was officially assimilated.



She has watched every sci-fi series and film with me. She has really come to enjoy it. I love hearing her perspective since she adds insights I wouldn't even dream of.

Found this and had to share it


More Kirk love


And finally something to make you bust your gut

Foundation

At the dawn of the 90s, I entered my 20s. It was a strange transition since as a teen you struggle for independence then without warning it is thrust upon you with the unfortunate companion of responsibility.

I graduated from High School with a little less fanfare than represented in a John Hughes film. So, what was next? To be honest, I hadn't given it much thought. So I went to the next logical step, a community college or as I like to call it: High School part 2.

As part of the process, you have to take a reading and math placement exam prior to entering the college. I guess the SAT and 12 years of school aren't a good enough example for a performance rating. That's sarcasm. Trust me, it's there.

The evening before the exam I had gone out drinking and showed up to the exam hung over. The coordinator handed out the exams and then put the time remaining on the black board (actually the board was green. Semantics. Semantics.). I decided to rush through the math section and tackle the reading afterward. Not a good idea. At some point during the reading section with about 2 hours remaining I had fallen asleep. I awoke with 15 minutes scratched on the board. Gulp.

Two weeks later I received in the mail a mandate to take Reading 101. Now any self-respecting intelligent person would have explained the situation to the college and been excused. Instead I spent a semester with a bunch of ESL (English as a Second Language) amigos. I was the star pupil and finally got to read 'Clifford the Big Red Dog'. Meanwhile I was taking Calculus at 6am. Shit for brains doesn't even cover this one.

I really don't know what I was doing during that time. I just got my first car and wanted to just hang out. My family's financial situation wouldn't allow that. As my dad put it, "You have to contribute to this house." I couldn't argue. My parents became parents at 18 and had been supporting a family ever since.

I realized that my college career was going no where and I needed to get a "real" job. So I applied for a bank teller position. The training course was a breeze and I was on the road to high finance @ 12K a year. WooHoo!

During the 25th anniversary of Star Trek in 1991, they released the never aired original pilot entitled "The Cage". It was hosted by Gene Roddenberry. There was one anecdote that caught my attention. In 1964, 'The Cage' was rejected by the "suits" and labeled 'too cerebral'. In an unprecedented action, they requested a second pilot with some "suggested" changes. (Enough with the quotes already) The second pilot was green-lighted. Now Gene needed publicity for his new show so he went to the fans. He packed up his original pilot and went to the biggest sci-fi convention at the time. It didn't take much persuasion to get them to show it. As the projectionist prepared the film the anticipation mounted since Gene knew this would be the real test for his show. The house lights dimmed and the film began.

Meanwhile, there was this obnoxious voice coming from the back of the theatre. As the pilot progressed the voice continued. Gene made his way toward the offense and effectively told the person to shut up. The surrounding folks stood there stunned. Gene walked away. A few minutes later one of the organizers of the convention informed him that he just told Isaac Asimov to be quiet.

As the credits rolled, there was silence. Gene thought they were going to lynch him. He had told a sci-fi master to shut up and had just shown them something disappointing. He made his way toward the exit. That's when the applause erupted. They were being silent because they were taking in every moment. They were reading all the names involved in the project. They loved it. At that moment, Gene knew he had a hit. He even got Asimov's apology and approval.

At the time I did not know who Isaac Asimov was. I decided to do some research and found out that Asimov had actually worked as a consultant for Star Trek: The Motion Picture. I started to read some non-fiction by Asimov and enjoyed his writing style. On one of the book flaps it mentioned the Foundation trilogy. Hmmm, what was that? Then one day while walking through a street fair, I saw 'Foundation' by Isaac Asimov sitting on a used book stand. I asked the gent behind the table if he had the other books in the trilogy. He said, "Sure." For a total of $3, I had struck gold!

During the next couple of weeks any free moment I had, I read. I carried the books with me everywhere. Waiting in line at the bank, in between classes, in traffic, on the bowl, yep anywhere I had my nose in those books. I was hooked. Asimov is such a great and prolific writer that he makes it look easy. I so wanted to create a story as vast and wonderful. It hasn't happened. Yet.

Once I finished the trilogy I found out that Asimov had written two other series in the 50s: the Robot series and the Galactic Empire series. In the 1980s Asimov wrote a group of novels that connected all three series. This brought the whole universe to a total of 15 books which chronicle 20,000 years of human history. Absolutely Incredible. You can read more about the Foundation Series here.

When I finished the whole catalog, I experienced my first Keanu Whoa moment with literature. I started to really get why that Shakespeare guy was so important. Scifi had done for me what 12 years of school could not. But I blame my own stubborn ignorant self. Me got a hard head and I have a shattered windshield to prove it.

My next scifi novel was given as a gift. It was called Ender's Game. A friend I worked with used the login ender_ed. I asked him, "Who's Ender?" He just shook his head and said, "There should be laws. You've never heard of Ender's Game." He shook his head again and said, "We'll have to remedy that." That Christmas I received the book. With all its complexity, it is the easiest read you'll ever find.

I still haven't read Dune. I rented the film and like most of David Lynch's work you either love it or hate it. The scifi channel released a mini series that I hear is faithful to the novel. I've seen the mini-series but, as I've mentioned, never read the book so I don't know. Dune is for scifi what LotR is for fantasy. They are messiah stories and hero journeys. I'm a junkie for 'em yo!

By Your Command

Star Trek has had a powerful influence on my life yet there came a time when I questioned that influence. In 1997 a film was released called 'Trekkies'. While I watched it with a friend, I turned to him stunned and said, "Star Trek is a cult." I wasn't referring to its cultural phenomenon status. People devoted their lives, money, and dare I say souls to Star Trek. It was alarming.

The film focused on eccentric fanatics and was criticized for it. Some of these people were zombies following the church of Roddenberry. I started to question if I was part of this obsessed clan. I had already found Jesus. He was surfing on one of the planets in Orion's belt. I can see why many people miss him, though. He's a busy guy. Now that Waldo character is another story.

However, I was concerned and I did not want to offend the Almighty with my obsession. Fortunately, it was a momentary crisis. I realized that I did not model my life after the philosophy of Star Trek. Sure from time to time I've asked the question, "What Would Kirk Do?" But, I believe that Jesus died for our sins and God does exist. Don't ask me to prove it. It's faith. It ain't science. I've heard plenty of arguments for and against. I believe. It's that simple. If you don't, that's yo thang. Maybe I'm a selfish bastard and too concerned about my own self to evangelize. IMO, there's been too much blood and pain deciding who's right and wrong.

Hey where did that soapbox come from? I've been on that thing before and most of the time it sounds like I'm trying to convince myself and the rest of the time I've spent pointing out others' fault. I've had good and bad experiences with my faith. It's family and I won't turn away. I'm in for the long haul. When I'm at my worst I think I'm holding a "Get out of jail free" card. Like I'll be able to shyster the creator of the universe. At my best I bask in wonder and awe of the living Presence.

At times while I've sat in church and looked around at the blank faces with disdain, I've thought they looked like the walking dead. I was jealous of other churches. It was a case of the grass being greener. In my search I've found arrogance and self-justification. I've also found prayerful, humble people with great devotion. I've come to the conclusion that religion and fanaticism are very human. I've even met some fanatic atheists! People who hold true to the many possibilities of science and reason but totally disregard the possibility of God. I've learned that the greatest teacher is by example. I don't consider myself a saintly person. I'm a frail, imperfect, and corruptible human with faith.

I've highly criticized religion and Star Trek. When both are treated like a product to sell, it upsets me. It cheapens both. I mean I can understand the marketing of a TV show. How else would it survive? But I don't like being treated like a spoon-fed mindless drone. I've felt this way toward both my passions. I've always thought of Jesus as a rebel not a conformist. He fought oppression and injustice and was killed for it. When Star Trek challenged its present establishment it worked best.

So where do I go from here? In my experience, everything rested on one question, either Jesus was everything he said he was or a madman? It was that simple for me. All other questions faded away. It was a crossroads, so to speak. I chose the road towards hope and never turned back. Sure I've stumbled or found myself beaten and tortured on the side of the road but my being always turns toward His love.

Back to the Beginning

Are you or someone you love having trouble sleeping? Read frakkintalos. Works like a charm! Thanx Paddie for the helpful tip.

Late one evening during the summer of '89 I was very depressed. I walked into my home and turned on the tellie, looking for the solace of Star Trek. Instead of my hero Kirk, they were showing the next generation and the bald guy. Wait. What was that? A collective gasp from the audience, "How dare you mess with Picard!?!" Before I start a riot, allow me to explain.

OK first off here are the top 10 reasons Kirk is better than Picard:
10. Kirk can beat up a Klingon bare handed.
9. If Kirk finds a strange probe, he blows it up.
8. Kirk appreciates Shakespeare, but he doesn't show it.
7. When Kirk says;"Boldly Go", he means it.
6. Kirk has more dates than his first officer.
5. Diplomacy for Kirk is a phaser and a smirk.
4. Kirk once fought a Greek god, and won.
3. Klingons didn't have a word for surrender before Kirk.
2. Kirk never drinks tea...Never!
1. One Word: HAIR

Now you decide:





The first season of TNG aired when I was busy being a teenager and all the tomfoolery that comes with that. Hmmm what kind of picture am I trying to paint here? This ain't Norman Rockwell. I'll try to give you a better idea. Alright here goes...listening to Rush and Anthrax while drinking Jaegar on the roof of Queens Center mall. Running across train tracks, drunk on Jack. Stealing sips of Disaronno from under the kitchen sink. Six packs in the school basement. Getting the picture?

Previously I had saturated my mind with Star Wars and Star Trek. Now it was saturated with alcohol which is a weird thing since alcohol actually dehydrates, shrinking the brain. But I digest. Where was I? Oh yeah reveling in poor judgment. So, the first season of TNG was mediocre at best and the second season suffered from a writers' strike. There were some gems in there but I missed them. My interest was elsewhere.

In the fall of '87 I met a girl named Joanna. I was infatuated and had never experienced anything like that. We became friends since she was not interested in a boyfriend and I was cool with that since I never had a girlfriend before. I just loved talking to her. It was hard to explain to people. I admitted to family and school friends that I liked her but it wasn't like that. Since I had one friend and was a geek, I got chided with, "Dennis has a girlfriend." It was annoying but I had dealt with worse.

By the summer of '88 my parents decided to move out to Merrick, Long Island. I would need to change school's in my senior year. For most that would have been a problem but I was getting into trouble for most of my junior year and was in threat of expulsion. My good friend Dennis received a letter that summer and he had to change schools. When I saw him in the winter he said, "Dude, good thing you left. You were on the list too." Like it was the gestapo or something.

As far as my "girlfriend" I figured we could still talk on the phone and the friendship would fade over the distance. Then a bomb dropped. I was invited to her sweet sixteen. It made sense being a friend and all but I had nightmares. I hated parties, especially dancing. I'm a geek people!! At least I wouldn't be alone since my bud Mick was invited. Phew!

Anyway, I showed up at this thing and could feel the eyes on me. Little did I know but I had come up in conversation and the buzz around was, "Who is this guy Dennis?" People came up to me and introduced themselves adding, "So you're Dennis." Ugh! What had she said about me? How much had I been built up? I couldn't live up to much. I was already uncomfortable but this tipped the scales. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Where was that dentist's chair?

I tried to hide in a corner but that corner was populated by Mick and his Molloy buddies. So I looked for the only other person I knew there, Charlie the sweatshop guy. He was too busy trying to score, PIG! So I sat there across from some guy dressed in black and looking paler than a corpse. His name was Steve. He was Charlie's high school bud. He felt just as out of place. He made me feel instantly comfortable. Then came the candle lighting ceremony. Don't ask. For the sixteen candles, you light each one to honor the people in your life. The closer to the final candle the higher importance. Anywho, I figured I'd go first. Instead after lighting the first couple of candles she didn't call me up so I figured, "Oh well." The countdown continued. She called up her best friend. Thank God this was almost over. Then I heard my name. It didn't register at first. You know that moment in films when all sound is muffled and all you hear is the protagonist's heart. Well mine was pounding like the natives about to offer some screaming white girl to Kong.

Somehow my feet found the strength since I was standing in front of a cake with 15 burning candles. It's all a blur after that. My parents showed up and I was rescued. On my way out, she left her party and ran after me. All I wanted to do was flee. What I didn't know then was that she wanted to kiss me but I was a clueless fool. Want to talk about on different pages. I thought it was over. I was moving 45 miles away which to a teen without a car might as well be the other side of the world. Joanna was looking for something more. That evening I laid in bed with the pillow over my face hoping Chief would come and put me out of my misery (a little One Flew Over reference. Show of hands, who got that?).

A few days later I received a call. She wanted me to come over. I figured it would be the ol' 'We'll keep in touch and stay friends' speech. Instead I got a love letter handed to me as soon as I walked through the door. Great timing! We were both young and stupid and thought a long distance relationship would work.

Anyway, I moved away. Our first year relationship was tumultuous and I'm not going to get into it. Let's just say my senior year 1989 was a very bad year.

Fezzik, go back to the beginning!

Late one evening in '89 and depressed. Why? After a horrible school year to add salt to the wounds Joanna and I broke up. It was painful and I already said I'm not going into it. So I'm sitting there watching the TNG season three finale. It was entitled 'Best of Both Worlds, Part One'. It is considered by most to be the best TNG episode. While I watched the episode, I tried to forget about my life. It worked. The episode was fantastic. Once again Star Trek had saved me and cheered me up. Of course my problems or situation didn't changed but Star Trek was there for me. When others criticize geeks and say, "Get a life!" They miss the point and the connection the show makes. It's family. I can't explain it any better than that. That's why it has such a passionate fanbase. That evening TNG won my heart.

The Saga of a Tooth

There was this kid named J.J. that lived on my block. He was a real instigating bastard. He used to pick on me all the time. Any chance he had to show me up, he would. One morning I was out minding my own business when J.J. started his crap. I think I was 11 at the time. There was no one around so I had no reason to show off or anything but he was mid-sentence and I clocked him. While he lay dazed on the ground I stood over him and gloated, "Get up." I saw the rage in his face surge and before he could stand, like a mad Ralphie from 'A Christmas Story', I pounded on him. We exchanged blows and eventually separated, not speaking a word.

Later that day, my parents had a wedding and needed a sitter so they asked my Aunt Dot. After the altercation that morning I was having a great day. I hit 2 homers in stick ball and pitched a shutout. When the time came, I kissed my parents goodbye and told them I'd be good. My aunt came out and I kissed her hello. I told her I'd be playing wiffle ball in the alley. She said she'd be in the backyard with my neighbors.

Then J.J.'s mom came out. We called her the mayor of the block since she was always getting involved in other people's business. She scowled at me while she walked past and into my neighbor's yard. No matter who they were or what I thought of them I always respected my elders. This woman was despicable yet I made no reaction to her. I did not disrespect her out of respect for my parents. I just turned away and continued playing.

A few moments later my aunt comes storming out of the alley screaming at me, "Dennis, get upstairs right now!" I was perplexed, "Why? I'm still playing." She turned red, "Dennis you listen to your aunt and get upstairs now! Don't you dare embarrass me!" She was doing that herself but like I said I was a good kid who respected older people no matter what I thought of them. So I headed upstairs. She was livid. I couldn't understand a word she said. She was looking in the bathroom for something, then she searched the kitchen. Finally she said, "Where do you keep your soap?" I inquired, "Why?" She eyed me with contempt, "To wash your mouth out for those vile things you said to J.J.'s mom." WHAT!?! Apparently I was outplayed. No one ever takes the word of a child over an adult so I knew I was done for. I protested but to no avail.

I tried to calm her down. She was a raving lunatic at this point. I told her, "I didn't say those things. Would you please calm down?" She screamed, "I'm calm. I'm calm. Why would she tell me that if it weren't true." I could see there was no point in giving my side. Then my aunt's face lit up with inspiration. She grabbed the Palmolive from the kitchen sink, opened the cupboard and grabbed a glass. She then turned to me and said, "You're gonna wash your mouth out with this."

OK people at that point all bets were off. We exited social etiquette and entered the realm of self-preservation. I told her, "I'm not drinking that." She was determined. She grabbed the back of my head and rushed the glass toward my mouth. I jerk my head and the glass broke against my teeth, breaking one. My mouth began to bleed. My aunt was now in hysterics. I didn't know what to do. I said, "It's OK. I'm alright." She looked at me and shrieked, "You're bleeding. Oh God! Your tooth is broken! Oh God!" I felt my mouth and there was blood on my hand. Maybe it was the adrenaline but I didn't feel anything. I smiled and said, "Really I'm okay." My aunt rushed to the fridge and grabbed some ice and a towel from the counter. I put it on my mouth. Now it started to hurt. After a while the bleeding stopped and we all waited for my parents to get home.

When they arrived my mother, the dental assistant, looked at me and said, "He'll be fine." My father shrugged and said, "He'll live." My father drove my aunt home. After they left, my mother asked, "What the hell happened?" I told her about how Christine (the mayor) told Aunt Dot that I had cursed her out and Aunt Dot wanted to wash my mouth out with soap. I explained that J.J. started with me that morning and I beat him up. He probably lied to his mom about it. My mom just asked me if I was OK. I said I was fine. Then she started crying and blubbering about my face and smile and all the glass and how I could have cut my face etc. If you know my mother, you'll realize it was much more colorful.

So now begins the saga of the tooth. The first dentist to work on it was Dr. Grossman. He simply applied cement and shaped it. Voila a tooth!

A little while later I was pushing my cousin on a swing at a park and smack right in you know where. There was little plaster tooth everywhere. So back to the dentist. This time they wanted to put a temporary and eventually a root canal.

The temporary was well temporary. I was eating pizza on a Lenten Friday and pop out came the tooth. Now my mom was working for a different doctor (Oh crap I forgot his name). Anywho he does the root canal. Let me tell you, if you ever want to torture someone that's the way to go. As a child I had a high tolerance for pain. I'd fallen off monkey bars, been hit by cars (yes that's plural), ran into parked cars, ripped my leg open on a barbed-wired fence, jumped and missed between garages, and with the aid of my sister been hit by baseball bats and almost thrown out a window breaking the glass in the process. None of that compares. I'd fight Mike Tyson in his prime before I'd sit in another sadistic dentist's chair.



Just like Sean Connery said never again I found myself once again in the dentist's chair. This time to clean out an infection from the previous goober's work. My new torturer was named Silverman. He had the final master plan. Clean the infection, place a temporary post then in two weeks put in a permanent post.

I left the office with a lip fatter than a clumsy skate boarder's. That was almost 20 years ago and I still got that not so temporary. When I'm dead and buried it'll still be in my rotting skull. Alright that's morbid but I'm serious yo!