Behind the Curtain: Scraps and Portions

The Beginnings of Habits
As you read and categorize and place me in the most appropriate and cozy compartment in your mind, allow me to make the identification process a bit easier:  I'm a huge nerd.  I read comic books, play video games, watch cartoons, enjoy good fantasy and sci-fi novels, talk to myself, and already worry about the finale of Lost.

Many of these habits started in elementary school.  I was home with the flu, slept the day away, and stumbled awake once the sun began to drop and the skies turned violet.  My dad returned from work, tie loosened, shirt untucked, heavy lidded, and set this gently on my lap:

I smiled and sat up from the ravines I had worn in the couch.  Dad grinned back and said, "Saw this today in the mall, and thought you'd like it.  Glad you're feeling better."  And that was that.  Reading comics, even if I had no idea what the hell was going on, became one of the most exciting times of the week.

The video games began with my older brother introducing me to Intellivision, Atari, and eventually his NES.  Countless hours were clocked on Metroid, Zelda, Mega Man, Contra, Gauntlet, Blades of Steel, and Double Dribble.  The NES strengthened friendships, became such a shared experience with so many of my classmates, and allowed my mind to begin its imaginings and wanderings.


Careers I've Considered Either In Passing Or Intently While Staring
1.) Shooting guard in the NBA
2.) Chef
3.) Assassin
4.) Editor-in-chief of DC Comics
5.) Origami Grand Master
6.) Counselor
7.) Florist
8.) Voice Actor
9.) Thief
10.) Bartender
11.) Independently wealthy philanthropist
12.) Professional fort builder
13.) MLB closer
14.) Superhero


A Fault
I allow too much time to pass before making contact with old friends.  Hell, even with family.  I used to figure this complacent behavior typical for men, but now I'm not so sure.  It may be me.  Several friends (all of whom are also men, which complicates things further and leads me to believe that it is actually a common pattern of behavior) exist now as only a clouded outline of a memory of good times spent together.  The opportunity to reconnect is always there, within reach, and yet I'm reluctant to do it.  Why?

I have absolutely no idea.