I'm procrastinating...still. I've been procrastinating for two weeks now, but I actually have the document opened on my computer screen right now! And minimized so I can procrastinate by writing this blog.

I decided it was time to come clean. This isn't an easy process for me; I'm not proud of what I've done, but I feel I owe it to myself, my family, and my friends to admit to having a problem. I'm addicted to Star Trek. How addicted are you? you ask. I'm reading fanfiction--lots and lots of fanfiction. In alcohol terms, I just drank the bottle of rubbing alcohol because I was all out of scotch. I've sat on my loveseat with my computer on my lap and read score upon score of Spock/Uhura love stories and even a little Spock/Kirk. And this obsession has grown past Mr. Spock. I've fallen in obsession with the crew of The Next Generation; I've watched episodes of The Original Series and enjoyed them on an unhealthy level. I've watched the first SEVEN Star Trek movies and am currently contemplating doing it again.

This is like Twilight-quality pathetic here people. I'm going to walk into class on Monday and have to explain I have no syllabus and no lesson plan because I couldn't focus on anything except my own depraved Vulcan fantasies. I'm like an X-rated version of someone off Trekkies.

And there's nothing for it. Nothing I can do to make this better; no safety mechanism that can bring me back from the brink. Like any unhealthy relationship I just have to ride this one out; help has been offered but until I am in a place I can accept it, it does me no good. I've thrown myself into my obsession, the Star Trek equivalent of smoking an entire carton of cigarettes at once, in an attempt to kill this overwhelming fascination that roots me to my loveseat. But nothing is working. That's why I'm making this plea to the world.

I don't want to be one of those people on Trekkies, dangerously angry because my custom made Starfleet uniform has stripes that are two inches too thick. I don't want to be one of those people who can ONLY talk about Star Trek, and actually feels aggression towards those that dislike it. I don't want to be one of those people who speaks in Klingon because it's cool.

But I feel my humanity slipping away more and more each day. I find myself surfing the net for hot pictures of Leonard Nimoy (some actually do exist) and comparing the possibilities of new movies with the reality of the old ones. I speak of Spock and Uhura as if they were real people, and I become jealous of Nurse Chappel because I hate her. She doesn't deserve Spock. Her character is useless and offensive! See? That was an explosion of emotion that no sane, healthy person would experience.

I felt betrayed when I realized just how racist and sexist The Original Series was even though it did wonderful things for 1966; I've even gone on Amazon to see if there are any books out there I might want to read. So this is my plea for help. This is my cry to those around me to save my soul from the black-geek-hole that is Star Trek.

Or you can just come over and watch the movies with me. I'm really open to anything.

I want to write about the Devil. I haven't talked about my friend Satan in awhile, so it seems about time. I was watching Storm of the Century, a made for tv based on a Stephen King book or short story or something, and it got me thinking. As with all (ALL) Stephen King there is a demonic figure who terrorizes a small town in Maine (don't live in small town Maine) and the townsfolk have to deal with it as their strengths allow.

But as I sat and thought about this idea, and as anyone who has watched King's made for tv movies you know there is a lot of time to think because nothing happens for the first two and a half hours, I realized facing the Devil holds a decided lack of fear for me. Perhaps that sounds like an inane thing to say and I grant you it might be; after all, who am I to imagine what facing the Devil might be like? But here's the thing: first, I can only be so scared before I just get angry--it's a delightful tactic of self preservation. Second, what's the Devil going to do except kill me, torture me, or otherwise torment me? I understand the second point might need more clarification.

The fact of the matter is I can't fight the Devil. What am I gonna do, pull out my rosary and pretend to be Catholic? Make a cross with my fingers and recite the Lord's prayer? Either the powers of light save me or the Devil torments me. I have very little power in the situation. I know I wouldn't make any deals, and would, in fact, not listen to him at all. When the Devil speaks it's best to put your fingers in your ears and say "la la la!" over and over again. That saves my soul as best I know how and after that, what can you do? I have no great celestial powers; I know no special prayers for banishment. I don't even know an old priest, let alone a young one. You want to throw demons at me, shadowy evil, or old fashioned ghosts and we got a fight on our hands. Even whatever IT is I would be willing to throw down with. But the Devil, Satan, Lucifer himself? I got nothing but resignation and no fear. Either he has his way or he doesn't, but all I can do put on some Star Trek and hope he leaves me alone.

And this is why the Devil as the primary bad guy doesn't work in a scary story for me. What's to be scared of? It's the mother *&^#*$^& Devil kids. Fear is a little wasted at that point, don't you think? Once you're face to face with the bastard well...not a whole lot you can do at that point except studiously avoid answering any questions lest you inadvertently barter your immortal soul.

Speaking of which...why do people talk to the Devil?! Especially when they know he's the Devil?! Why do that? You KNOW he's the Devil; you KNOW he only wants to hurt you. Why listen when he says, "I just want to talk for a moment." Seriously people. It's the Devil. Just walk away.

And living in Sin City I feel it's possible I can take this stance because I've met him a couple of times on Fremont Street. And he was a frat boy.

Why everyone should watch Friday Night Lights

I love football. That sounds strange because I've never been driven to watch it all the time or learn anyone's name or follow stats, but I love football. It's kind of like the way I love super-volcanoes; their both hella fun to watch on television, but not quite so much fun up close and in person.

Enter Friday Night Lights. It's like a mecca of awesomeness:

Gratuitous violence? Check
High school drama? Check
Hotness of all ages (a few of which I'm going to hell for noticing)? Check
Wounded bad boy? Check
The handling of serious plot points? Check

And then the bad boy bonded with a small child while greasy from working on his truck. Best. Show. Ever.

The other fun thing about any show like this happens when I watch it with friends that didn't grow up on sports families. Inevitably they see a scene where the coach is yelling at a player and say, "Oh, that's mean!" That always makes me smile.

So this is my plug for Friday Night Lights. I'm still on the first season, but if you love football--and especially football pants--I highly suggest you pick up a copy of the first season.

A friend asked me yestereve how I was different now from ten years ago. I had told him that my ten year high school reunion was coming up and he asked what had changed most about me. I was flummoxed by the question (always a sign of a good question) and at first I thought, of course I've changed--I've changed so much! But then I didn't have an answer for him. I drink more now; I certainly know my way around the bedroom more aptly than I once did. I'm more likely to mouth off, or get in a fight. But the thing is all of those things were there in high school, I just never found a place to let them out.

I was--what you might call--a goody-two shoes. But I never wanted to be, you must understand. I wanted to do all manner of unhealthy and probably unsafe things, but I couldn't find the kids to help me do it. I fell in with wonderful friends who were all very well behaved, and that saved me from any high school shenanigans to speak of. Going to college I found people more than willing to school me in the arts of the party, but I wouldn't say that was something that changed about me exactly. It was more that I became myself if that makes sense.

And yet, I suppose I am different as we all are. The hormones have faded and we've settled into the people we're going to be (more or less) but I am still flummoxed by the problem of naming these differences. Sometimes I succeed admirably at standing my ground, but sometimes I still fail. I am more vocal and aggressive in protecting my private space (inappropriate touching at the bar is much more likely to provoke a violent response) but I would almost always strike out if pushed to far even back then. I'm significantly more tactful now and aware of the people around me, but I'm still likely to say highly inappropriate things at uncomfortable moments.

Maybe you could say I am more confident now, but I wasn't ever exactly lacking confidence. For sure I had my teenage crazy with the best of them, and I worried mightily over my body, but it never occurred to me until after high school that someone could actually not find me attractive. For most of my teenage years I simply assumed if you didn't want me it was because you weren't seeing the "inner" me. I know--but we've all been there so shut up. As one grows older one realizes that sometimes people just aren't attracted to you and that's okay. It's not a good or bad thing; it simply is. But concurrently, as I accepted that, people who treat me poorly or rudely because they aren't attracted to me are significantly more likely to be confronted.

But all the things that I might say most define me I've always had. I've always been reasonably confident; I've always liked myself. I've never particularly cared if I looked like an idiot as long as I was having a good time. I've always been self-reflexive; I do have significantly more complex ideas than I did in high school, but is that me changing or only the product of more education? I've always been a crazy liberal, and I am both simultaneously more likely to argue about politics and less likely now; that sentences appears to say nothing, I know. What I mean is, I will defend my beliefs until I pass out--that hasn't changed. But, when I realize there is a difference in ideology or I am arguing with someone that isn't going to seriously consider what I am saying I stop arguing--that has changed. Maybe I'm just more streamlined in my use of energy now?

Perhaps if forced to answer this question I would say this: my awareness of my self, my thoughts, my world, and how all three interact is exponentially more evolved and complex now than it was then. It sounds academiceze even to me, but I don't know how else I would say it. I know my limits now, and I know what makes me push past them. I know the insignificance of my thoughts, and I know my egoism depends on them. I know that a small part of me will always wish the ridiculously hot spartan in itty-bitty-teeny-weeny-little-leather-panties will save me from imminent doom and fall madly in love with me. I know a larger part of myself will always hate the small part of me that wants to be saved rather than go through the work of creating myself. I know an even larger part of myself will just read trashy romance novels to soothe the fires of war between those two halves. I know utterly that even if the Spartan did show up I would never accept him unless we were emotional equals in the relationship and it was abundantly clear I would never allow him to save me from myself, even if I did need him to kill the occasional monster bearing down.

Ah, I revise my earlier statement. I know what has changed the most about me: I am now aware, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that no one can make me happy but myself, and that I am not responsible for anyone else's happiness so long as I live every day attempting to fulfill my moral and ethical duties as I have laid them out. As an addendum I would add I am of the complete belief that high school is significant only in its insignificance. It never occurred to me ten years ago that I wouldn't change; I think that's why I've never kept close track of the changes that were made.

That's the big one I was trying to explain last night, and that's a pretty darn sweet one if I do say so myself.

My ego's still the same.

There have been a number of things I've wanted to write about in the last few days, but despite my best intentions none of them have made it to here.

A quick run down:

My nephew was born and that was friggin' awesome.

Hugh Jackman vs. Liev Schreiber, a.k.a. Wolverine has now been renamed One More Movie Where I Question My Attraction To Bestial Characteristics In Men.

I watched all three Pirates of the Carribean movies and feel I need to state once again that 1 day ashore, no matter how good the sex with Orlando Bloom's piratey self, does not justify 10 years raising a kid by yourself with no means.

The above mentioned statement illustrates better than a dissertation that graduate school has beaten the fun out of me.

But hey, my nephew was born and that's friggin' awesome.

So this got me thinking about the top ten characters I would most like my nephew to grow up to be like, and the top ten characters I would least like him to be like. It seems like a worthwhile procrastination of my time as I put off sleeping, writing, and all other manner of things that would allow me to graduate and join the work force.

Top Ten Characters That Would Be Most Awesome for My Nephew to Grow Up To Be Like:

10. Will Turner
This one's tough. On the one hand if he grows up like Will Turner his dad's a pirate, he has an over developed sensed of morality and nobility, and he gets his heart cut out when he's assigned the eternal duty of ferrying souls across to the underworld. On the other hand, his dad's a pirate, he has an over developed sense of morality and nobility, and he's immortal. The ambiguity lands this one at #10.

9. Luke Skywalker
Again with the daddy troubles. My nephew could grow up to save the galaxy and restore balance to the force. However, for that to happen my brother has to turn evil and commit genocide which is why this one ranks in at #9.

8. Gambit
I thought long and hard with this one. Batman's unstable; Superman's alone. Cyclops is a douchebag, Professor X is in a wheelchair, and Wolverine has rage issues. With choices like this Gambit was the only real choice--he's suave, debonair, strong, and has a rockin' accent. The kid could do worse.

7. Tom Selleck
Perhaps you didn't realize Tom Selleck qualified as a character, but you should have. If any relative of mine can rock the 'stache that awesomely with masculinity fairly pouring from his pores I feel his life will be easier. If he's not Tom Selleck, though, I want everyone to rest assured that I will do my auntly duty and nicely remind him to shave. Immediately.

6. Jed Bartlett
He's a good President. He's brilliant. He loves his wife. And he can speak Latin--sweet.

5. Captain Kirk
The real explanation needed here is why #5? It's a good question, a valid question. Captain Kirk does save the planet; he makes it with tons of sexy alien chicks. But sometimes, just sometimes, he's in really bad movies. I'm sorry, but that has to count against him just a little.

4. Robin Hood
Robs from the rich and gives to the poor. I'm a crazy liberal who wants nothing more than to bring down the man. Self explanatory really.

3. Gandalf
It's not an obvious choice perhaps; why Gandalf? Why not Aragorn or Frodo? Well, two reasons really: 1) Gandalf is wicked smart and 2) he can come back from the dead. Those are two traits I would sleep easier knowing my nephew had.

2 . He-Man
Dude. He's a Master of the Universe. And he rocks the fur speedo like nobody's business.

1. Po, the Kung Fu Panda
Po comes in at #1 for one main reason: with our family genetics the truth is my nephew is most likely to resemble a panda and not so much a tiger, grizzly bear, or any other fearsome animal. But Po loves Kung Fu, and Po doesn't let others define "panda" for him. Some day I want to write the legendary tale of the legend of my nephew. Skadoosh!