Sunday, May 15, 2005
I Have A Bad Feeling About This
Star Wars Week, Day 1.

In the entire history of the world, we have experienced a grand total of 6 Star Wars Weeks. These are the weeks in which a new Star Wars film is released. Sorry, did that come off as condescending? I guess I should have assumed you, my precious, precocious readership, would have pieced that bit together yourselves, but the truth is I never know what is the appropriate level of Geek to speak at here. As we're all computer users, I suppose it's safe to assume a base level of Geek fluency somewhere above the national (or international) average. From now on I'll be working under the presumption that we all know the difference between a Death Star and a Star Destroyer and that Ewoks and Jar Jar suck.

I was born in 1974, so for the first three Star Wars Weeks I was (nearly) 3, 6 and 9 years old, respectively. I don't even remember asking to see any of those films in particular, I just know that I did at some point. For the most part I am a Star Wars dork created in the faint VHS echo of phenomenon (1982-1998). The damned things were always around, always available to be viewed over and over and over and over again. When you think about it, I never really had a chance to hate them.

So my first Star Wars Week as a functioning, money-earning, car-driving, decision making person was in the week leading up to Saturday May 22, 1999. The movie had come out on the 19th, but that was the day I had bought my tickets for. It was at the new-ish Kaleidoscope center, at the Edwards Theater there in Mission Viejo (Orange County, yes, once upon a time) where I was living at the time.

I know what you're thinking: Pops is probably just as physically attractive as he is witty and easy-to-read. And you're right. With regard to tonight's content, I imagine you're probably also thinking: wow, Pops is a fucking nutcase remembering all this shit in so much fine detail.

No no, no nutcase. Well, probably best not to rule it out entirely, fair enough, but that's not the reason I remember it so clearly. I remember it so clearly because at about 2 am Friday May 21st, Mrs. Pops woke me up because she was feeling poorly. She assumed all the stomach cramping had to be something she had eaten--she first assumed and later rather forcefully insisted some rashly-consumed elderly pineapple from the night before. All that day she cramped and suffered and insisted as we both stayed home from work until I finally convinced her to let me take her to the hospital that night around 10 pm. I didn't tell her, but I had to get this cleared up so it wouldn't interfere with the culmination of Star Wars Week the next day.

Then around 3:46 am Saturday May 22, 1999, our first son was born. Turns out it wasn't the pineapple that was causing the cramping. Something else I learned: never ever suggest that you want to go see Star Wars--or any other movie for that matter--to your wife less than 24 hours after your first child is born. Because even if you're willing to go when you're dead tired and emotionally spent, even when one-day-old children are the least interesting and least conversationally adept human beings in the world, even when your wife is nursing the baby and there's fuck-all for you to do, it is still considered bad form to skip out on your convalescing newly-minted family in favor of space opera, Star Wars or otherwise.

So that's my story about my first interaction with my first child. And he (and his brothers) have been ruining things for me ever since. I suppose when pushed I will grudgingly admit that the things your kids make you miss actually become vastly and forgettably secondary next to considerations for their health and well-being, but that doesn't mean I'm not keeping a fucking list. I'm waiting for just the right time to share it with them, too; I'm thinking the first time they ask me to babysit one of their kids so they can have some alone time with their wives or friends or, say, go see a movie.

[Before I get a bunch of "yeah, kids suck" responses, I feel like I should say--in their defense--they also provide fantastic cover for getting out of things ("Love to, sorry, but my kid is... um... let's say sick") or as an excuse for your own personal failure ("I would have finished writing that novel by now, but these kids, oy, who has the time?").]

This is Star Wars Week. I don't have my tickets yet, but should soon. The youngest is two now, so they should be OK alone at home for a couple hours while Daddy takes care of some business. This is Star Wars Week and for the first time ever, it's Kid Proof. I've thrown out all the pineapple. Just in case.

This post on the Narcissus Scale: 10.0


PS- Don't get comfy. I can almost guarantee this will not be the last Star Wars themed post of the week. Welcome to Dork City, Population: You.


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