Star Wars

May the 4th [be with you] just came and went, and it makes me reflect on the first fictional universe I ever found myself immersed in. (But certainly not the last.)

Star Wars will always have a special place in my heart. For a while in my childhood, I pretty much lived and breathed Star Wars. My brothers and I would discuss the details of it, and, probably especially formative of my roleplaying lifestyle, we would create and enact entire galactic conflicts.
When you think about kids playing Star Wars, you probably think about kids trying to whack each other with gift-wrap cardboard tubes. And no doubt, that's definitely part of what we did.

But more than that, we drew and wrote. We created entirely original political powers that conspired with and against one another's in the Star Wars universe, referencing characters from the movies as well as from the videogames, and created our own droids for battle and espionage.

Such an awesome game! Can't believe it was made in 1998.

I still consider being a younger brother as a blessing. Not only was I able to participate in entirely imaginative games as a young lad, but I was given constructive boundaries.

When I was a teacher, I could always tell which kids didn't have older siblings. These were the ones who, when creating a superhero or a Pokemon or something (my classes were the BEST), would want their guy to be the best at EVERYTHING. Super strong, invincible, able to read minds, dueling with swords, blasting with laser rifles, and flying through the air with super speed.

Yeah. I didn't get away with that.

Enter the Flea. I attempted to make a super-small, all-powerful reconnaissance droid that not only could sneak around anywhere, but with an arsenal that could pretty much destroy a death star all on its own, thermal exhaust port or not.
Bucky was the one who picked on me most of all, and it took me a few years to realize that he was just putting down constructive boundaries (and also picking on me). He designed a counter-droid, the Flea Flanker, which just took everything the Flea could do, and made it just an eensy bit better, so that it could destroy my omnipotent little thing.

But enough about that. Let's talk about loner Woody.

I consider myself an introvert. I love being alone. It's how I recharge. Don't get me wrong, I'm a people person, and I'm nothing if not outgoing, but if I have an option, I'll go out on my own and take that booth in the corner, that empty back seat, and I'll go camping on my lonesome.

And it's wonderful.

When I was but a wee lad, I would pretend to fly TIE fighters and A-wings, bouncing up and down on a riding mower, with a pistol-looking stick in one hand and a trusty cardboard tube in the other.

And in my solitary hours of play, I didn't blast my way through swathes of stormtroopers, or slice AT-ATs into bits. I would infiltrate. I would tiptoe around the bad guys, and if they left me no choice, I'd blast them with an blue ion laser, which, according to my not-so-canon imagination, wasn't lethal, but rather just sent them flying away like ragdolls.

I'd run away from the Empire, and me and that famed astromech droid R2-D2, (which was just a big plastic pretzel jar with a paper plate on top,) would laugh as we flew away from the evil forces we'd just sabotaged. (Yup. When I played alone, even my imaginary friends weren't humans.)

And that's how science works.

And when I got around to playing the videogame Knights of the Old Republic (or Kotor, if you're as cool as I surely am), I would play the same way. Sure, I could use a lightsaber, but I really only threw it like a boomerang, because that was cool. Other than that, I'd cowboy through with two blaster pistols. And it would just be me and my new favorite astromech droid T3-M4, sneaking around, laying mines, hacking computers, locking doors so enemies couldn't get through, and taking on non-combat missions to get money and buy the best stuff.

Hey there have you heard about my robot friend?

Of course, this strategy gets really really hard towards the end, when all you fight are dudes with lightsabers.

As it turns out, lightsabers reflect lasers.
Crap.

But the way I played makes me love the newest Star Wars, The Force Awakens.
Rey isn't a hack-n-slash Jedi, she's a techie! A saboteur, just like I used to pretend to be!
Of course, she can handle herself hand-to-hand, but when it comes down to her specialty, it isn't in lightsaber duels. She's in her zone not in a fight, but behind the controls of the Millennium Falcon. Her power is in her wits and know-how.

 And I can get behind that.

Who needs humans? We've got droids!

DanPar's baby shower books!

Back when I was but an unknowing Dad-to-be, we asked out family and friends to, instead of cards, give us books, with kind little notes written inside.
17 months into DanPar being a real person, let's take a look back!

This is an old book, (copyright 1985.) so I opened this up a few days ago, since DanPar is now more or less okay with paper pages now. Jessi's parents used to read through this story, and replace all the neighbors' and pets' names with actual people and pets from their own life. Which is just too adorable. It makes me think, "Wow, I should really get to know my neighbors."

Daniel, We are so blessed to have you coming into our lives.
We can hardly wait to meet you.

This is what really got me thinking. I send the little tyke over to their house a couple times a week, and so when I read this, especially "We can hardly wait to meet you," I thought, Well, I hope they're not disappointed. It was a weird thought to have, but for some reason, I couldn't help remembering all the hype there was around DanPar the Magnificent.

It's amazing with family. You can love someone before they're even here.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This was given to me by my former DungeonMaster (whom I have dethroned) and friend since high school, Jared. Dude's awesome. I'm his freelance official editor, and he's working on getting his own website into popularity, over at The Nerd Cavern. (Check it out!)

You can be anything you want to be. Whatever you choose to be, be the best at it.

So, if we had our way, DanPar would be the lead scientist of a global fellowship of humanitarians, who finally find a way to provide plentiful clean water across the world.

But if DanPar has his way, he'll probably want to be a ninja.

So by golly, be the best ninja there is!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The big joke here is that DanPar's "GramPar" is a Sanders. So, Pooh's crashing at big Joe's place, and it's funny.

Big Joe's a big softie when it comes to babies!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I love this book. So much. I read it to DanPar on mornings when neither of us are morning-ing very well. I have a rule: Having a slow morning? Too bad, read Great Day for Up, and with gusto! 

"Congrats!" is such an interesting word to use. You got BORN, bro! Congrats! Of course, there's no better word, because there's no single word that could possibly encompass all the joy, newness, and sheer mystic power of new life.

I'm also excited to see my guy grow up. Kind of. I take a bajillion pictures of the guy now, and I hope that'll help. And so far, everything about the kid is perfect. I'm worried that when he grows into a real human being, he'll be just as flawed and human as everyone else.

Amy and Bryan's little sweetheart, Cody!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I'm one of those parents who doesn't care if boys like girly things or vice versa. So bring on the princesses, and bring on the magic. Plus, as a teacher, I know the value of themed books and assisted reading books.

Thank you, Salvador Ramos! Your powerful words have really resonated with me, and your well-wishes are well-received!
(Yeah, I thought it'd be funny to include a random thrift store book we got. But I'm all out of jokes, so, um, done.)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Luckily for DanPar's bookshelf, we have plenty of friends who have gifted him books. And lucky for me, because man, it's easy to write a blog post when it's just 'Hey, let's look at what everyone else said!'

Thanks for reading, reader!

He's just SO CUTE.

Ten years from ten years ago, Part 1

My mom recently gave me an incredible piece of history. Like, the sort of thing you'll find in a museum someday.

Written in 2005, it's the official "what will I do in 10 years!"

Let's go ahead and start going through these, and see how prophetic young, naive 16 year old Woody was!

READYSETGO

Let's see, in ten years, I'll

I'm gonna stop myself right here. I still talk like this. I start every new idea with "Let's see," or "So," or "Well," or "You know,". I don't know why. I have just apparently always spoken like this.

-have a big, cheap, low-maintenance van

The plan was definitely a good one. And I still admire the idea. The idea was that I could go out on big road trips with my group of a thousand friends, and go wherever. Currently, my dream is to have a nice truck, with good seats, and enough space that I can help people move.
But alas, I've got my baby-safe-mobile, with sunroof, moonroof, and only five seats.

Hard to get more low-maintenance than this!

-not have had a date for six months

You know what, 16 year old Woody? You're WRONG. Just a few weeks ago, when the grandparents had the little dude, Jessi and I went to King Soopers, bought a pint of Ben & Jerry's, and sat on nice couches, talking about science-fiction technology. Maybe YOUUUUUUUUUU just don't know what a date is, loser!

Married person dates: when you aren't impressing anyone anymore.

-have had 4 different jobs

Count with me here, folks.
Job #1: CutCo knives. I ostracized my friends.
Job #2: KenTacoHut. I made the mini pizzas, and was allowed to have the Colonel's facial hair.Job #3: McDonald's. I flipped burgers and poured drinks, and worked way too early.Job #4: Southlands theatre. I tore tickets and cleaned up vomit. Not actually that much fun.Job #5: Jimmy John's. I assembled sandwiches like nobody's business. Actually that much fun.Job #6: Tradesmart. I appraised books and records, and gave people peanuts on the dollar.
Job #7: Kumon tutoring. I helped people with calculus. Whoa. Weird, right?Job #8: Global Village. I taught English to hundreds of elementary schoolers.

I'd say this is a tidy little resume of sadness, up until 7 and 8!

Woody, doing his job.

-eat Ramen noodles every other night

You are such a fatty, 16 year old Woody. I actually cook stuff! I've got a family to feed! But yeah, I probably do eat a bowl of cereal every other night. Cereal's awesome, guys.

-be perfectly happy

That's...actually a pretty deep sentiment, Woody-16. I'm stressed, sleep-deprived, and honestly, some days I can't do much more than stare at Daniel as he runs around and learns to spit water from his sippy cup. But yeah. I wouldn't change a single thing.

If I changed my life even a little, I might not have this!
And that's unacceptable.

-wear cheap clothes, probably still wear shorts

Woody-16 was renowned for wearing shorts every day. Rain, snow, shine, dark of night, all the time. I hate to disappoint you, man, but I've decided that refusing fashionable things simply because you don't want to be fashionable isn't a good idea. I wear jeans now. (But only when I'm going outside. Otherwise, pajamas 24/7.) 

Today, in fact, is double pajama day!

-have written three books, which went nowhere

I'm still working on writing one complete book. That's one of my New Year's resolutions. I've joined a workshop and everything! But the hardest part is definitely just sitting down, and mashing the keyboard until a story shows up. Good or bad, I'm sorry that I never got around to those three books, man.

When even my Sim can't be bothered to write, you know I'm in trouble.

-have written over thirty poems, which went somewhere

I wrote poetry when I was a teenager. And oh, it was teenaged poetry. Dramatic, exaggerated, impassioned, dispassionate, you name it. But I will say, I thought it was pretty darned good stuff! I've come to accept that my old stuff I put on LiveJournal, although it was done by a younger me, was important to me then, and so was important to who I am today.
And fine, here's one I liked.

I ran as fast as I ever have,

longer than I knew I could.

But they are still close.

I shouted at the top of my lungs,

louder than I knew I could.

But they aren’t going away.

I’ll subdue any opponent.

Give me a battle!

I want a challenge I can see!

But I can’t do a thing.

Mentally armed to the teeth,

ready for anything I can touch.

But I can’t do a thing.

Totally useless I remain,

here.

And I can’t change that.

I can’t do a thing.

I can’t fight.

I can’t fight these monsters.

I haven’t done a thing,

that at that time was wrong.

I want to buy that ring,

but all of them are gone.

There’s nothing I can do

while I’m out here far away.

I’d promise all to you,

But I can’t make you stay.

I get castigation

for a crime I never did?

You want compensation

for the same state that I’m in?

I’ll accept all the pain

to make us more whole.

I believe it to be in vain

if you don’t have me full.

“THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO!”

as I shout into the night.

These monsters all are you.

And there’s nothing I can fight.

Okay, that's 8 things, out of my list of a bajillion. That's enough for now.

Trust me, there'll be more. (Especially with gems such as "refuse to have a family" on there.)

Prince and lawn care!

Prince died a few days ago, and so another immortal musician has died in 2016.

Most of my friends were pretty sad about this. Some just said something along the lines of, "Well, I never listened to his music anyways." Which rubbed me the wrong way. Like you're watching a funeral procession, and you feel the need to contribute some dismissive comment.

I have a rule in my life to earnestly pray for the well-being of the souls of the dead, and this time was no different. However, in my attitude of "What a good boy am I", I realized I'd never listened to Prince before, either. So, today was the day!

I don't believe in pirating music (anymore), but thankfully, I'm pretty literate when it comes to online catalogs, and checked out Prince's album Ultimate while mowing my lawn.

And WHOA. Prince friggin' rocked, guys! I didn't know he was the guy behind "When Doves Cry", and the line "party like it's 1999". My favorite song from the album was definitely "Controversy". I had no idea it was a 7-minute song until just now, actually, because it was just a fun beat to mow to!

I know, I know, this doesn't have anything to do with fatherhood or DanPar or anything.

But I'm glad that Prince has meant so much to my friends, and I'm really happy to say that I enjoyed this music! (If I'd listened to his music, and found it bad, I probably would be staying respectfully quiet.)

DanPar was pretty busy doing his own thing while I mowed.

His own thing.

16 months! Still small, still growing!

I have a problem with our pediatrician.
It's not that she's unkind. She's super friendly! And the boy loves seeing her! It's also not that she's unknowledgeable. I asked about everything from baby friends to baby feces, and she didn't miss a beat. No, nothing like that.

It's more that when I showed her that Daniel could:

• answer "What do dogs say?" with an excited "Woof!",
• pat his head when I asked him where hats go,
• do the gesture for "more" when he wanted more snacks,
• retrieve his shoes from the bag when I asked him to,
• and climb up onto a chair from my leg,

she said, "Oh, VERY good."



Excuse me?

This is his "Am I not good enough for you?!" face
(But it's actually his sign language for "All done!")
(He's so smart!)

I feel like she must have been half-asleep, because obviously our child is more adorable and more clever than every other baby that she has ever seen! There's no CHANCE that she's seen a 16 month-old know any sign language! And no CHANCE that she's seen a 16 month-old know animal sounds! And no CHANCE that she's seen a 16 month-old who can climb up onto furniture, let alone a chair!

There is my grievance. She was not flabbergasted enough. Her flabbers remained largely ungasted throughout DanPar's performance.

Baby blanket fort!

However, I am pleased as punch to announce that our boy is right on track, developmentally! He was around the 33rd percentile last time, and that's about where he's at now, in height and weight. Tiny boy. But filled with looooooooooove!

Also, she told us (somehow without saying, "Wait, you don't do this yet???") that the boy should be able to fall asleep on his own, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, all we need to do is change him, maybe get him some water, and plop his little butt back in the crib!
This has improved my life tenfold!

Just like his cousin JaiMar, he likes sticking limbs outside of the crib.

Our little miscreant has also learned two very important things.
1) He can bring over objects to step on and help him climb up onto furniture, which is not at all perilous for young children.
2) Pork chops walk around and oink. Seriously. His mom taught him this.

Climbing all on his own!

"Sweet, sweet baby."

Two people I knew in college got married and had a kid. Like, just last week. And it's got me thinking about our few days in the hospital with the boy.

3:29pm, our boy Daniel was born, on December 3rd, 2014.

And by that night, they trusted us with the little munchkin.
Buuuuuuuuuut, luckily, they didn't trust us entirely, so we had an overnight nurse.

I can't remember her name, but one thing I remember very well, was that whenever she was holding the little DanPar, or giving him a shot, or changing him, she would say, "Sweet, sweet baby."

It seemed automatic, and yeah, in my head, I gave her guff, thinking that she didn't remember our boy's name, or gender, or anything. She was rushing here and there, and we were just a passing thought.

Well, as you know, we were new parents, and new parents are dumb. A lot.

At one point, little DanPar was sniffling, and we figured he had contracted some terminal form of the plague. We called the nurse, and when we explained the horrible symptoms that the boy was having, I could hear her chiding smile as she said, "That's all right. It's normal for babies to be a little stuffy the night after they were born."
I relayed the information to Jessi, and we both shook our heads. Obviously, the nurse didn't understand that our child was suffering from an exotic form of mega-disease-itis.

And so, I went back to sleep, with the vindictive thought, "Well, I did everything I could. No one can blame me now when they come in and find that our child has been hosting some evil parasite from another world."

Now that DanPar's had a few cousins born, and I've seen the nurses from a different perspective, I've learned a few things.

This nurse currently probably holds so many newborns every day, that she's seen everything. And she knows what she's doing.
"Sweet, sweet baby" soothes young babies when they are getting a shot.
"Sweet, sweet baby" comforts young babies when their parents don't know how to hold them.
"Sweet, sweet baby" reassures young babies when something's wrong, and they need to go to the NICU.
"Sweet, sweet baby" tells young babies that they are precious and loved in their first few moments.
"Sweet, sweet baby" sends young babies on their way as they leave the hospital and go out into the harsh world.

And when Daniel's upset, and I don't know what else to say, I'll hold him close, and whisper, "Sweet, sweet baby."

(Don't mind me, there's just something in my eye.)

DanPar the Fool! 12 month bloopers!

1 month old!

I admit it. There's nothing too particularly weird about this picture. What you have to understand is, when babies are born, they look like aliens. You. You looked like an alien. DanPar looked like an alien. That first month, all we tried to do were find the alien pictures that looked the nicest.

2 months old!

I think he was in the middle of a sneeze. And thankfully, the camera was clicking!

3 months old!

If you've been around that long, yes, I posted this one a year ago. But that's because it's AWESOME. 

4 months old!

This right here is what I imagine all babies look like, to people who don't ever want babies ever.

5 months old!

This one was great. He looks like a dude trying too hard to look cool. Also, this is back when I branded my photos! Good times.

6 months old!

He had just learned to crawl, and we were so happy every time he tried! But when taking pictures, we kept on flipping him onto his back. The face says it all.

7 months old!

Kids start seeing when they're around 2 months old. DanPar, however, was able to see into the infinite abyss of light at 7 months.

8 months old!

The best one ever.

Sometimes your kid is just too silly for one blooper. I don't know what was going on in that kid's head at 8 months, but thank goodness we took one that made him look drunk!

9 months old!

Psyche! At 9 months old, DanPar could not take a bad picture. They were all good. They were all keepers. I considered throwing out all the ones from before 9 months old, and just saying that he came out that cute, and not at all goopy.

10 months old!

He isn't picking his nose. But he sure looks like he is!

11 months old!

At 11 months, DanPar had stuff to do. He did NOT want his picture taken. He did NOT want to stay in one place. The entire photo reel is pretty much the kid's slow, impeded exodus from our makeshift studio.

12 months old!

And finally, we come to 12 months. DanPar has transcended the aesthetic world, and it is now impossible for him to take a bad picture. He is and will always be this cute. Because he's my baby. And I can't imagine that ever not being the case.