Dreaming of You

Reading stories about other people's dreams can be worse than root canal but I'm going to share this nugget with you anyway. Let's begin:

Last night I had the weirdest dream. I was walking down the street with purpose - as if I knew where I was going. I turned and headed into a large steel building. You know... like the kind they use for auto-body shops, children's bounce houses, and fundamentalist churches.


Inside it was air-conditioned and carpeted with rows and rows of fold out chairs. Up front there were two men (also seated in fold out chairs) reading from a Popular Mechanics Magazine to a packed audience. I found a seat in the back next to Dagromm and The Illustrious Q. I noticed that Q was talking to Dagromm in an overly loud voice - which made Dags a little uncomfortable because the two presenters were noticeably annoyed by the interruption.


Then, as if overcome by raw emotion, Q stands up and belts out the opening verse to Bruce Springsteen's Born in the USA.

Born down in a dead man's town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that's been beat too much
'Til you spend half your life just covering up

He then stops and looks right at me, giving me the "come on dude, I need you on this" look with his eyes. And for some reason I respond reluctantly with the line...

Born in the U.S.A.

The Q responds in kind screaming the remainder of the chorus...

Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.

He drops it down a notch but continues with great enthusiasm into the second verse...

I got in a little hometown jam
And so they put a rifle in my hands
Sent me off to Vietnam
To go and kill the yellow man

Only this time several people from the audience stand up and join him in the chorus! By the third verse Q has the entire audience on their feet. Everyone is belting out the chorus and I can swear I hear back-up music coming from somewhere. I too find that I am drawn to Q's raw power and I join the group. I notice even Dagromm is up on his feet and clapping his hands like a love-struck fan - singing every word.

This is when it gets weird. By this time, the two leaders of the Popular Mechanics Magazine Read-along have stepped aside. Q prances around in front of the crowd before turning around and ripping off his jacket to reveal a bright read jumpsuit with writing on the back. It says:

Dear Q: As a loyal fan of Texas A&M, I am sending you this jump-suit so that it can be properly baptised. Your friend, Tom Brokaw.


Q then runs and leaps into a giant tank of water at the front of the room. He bounces up and down in the chest high pool as the jump suit fills with water. Soon the jump-suit is near to bursting and Q looks like the girl from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory who ate the blueberry gum. Dagromm and I are forced to go into the tank and retrieve Q, rolling him onto the carpet and down the isle. The crowd continues to chant...

Born in the U.S.A.

...and Q chants right along with them.

As Dagromm and I open the door to the outside, the bright light of the sun hits our face and I awake - baffled by my dream.

Quad-Fest 2008

We all knew the day would come. The day that Gyuss decided a disease-infested-over-flooded-mile-wide river that flows from Minnesota to Louisiana would rip him from the annual gaming weekend that has come to be known as Quad-Fest! Luckily our "quad" was still intact with a REAL out-of-town bad ass! That's right... Pokiman rolled into town for a one night only extravaganza of gaming delight. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I should back up to Friday.

Friday was a day for the dynamic duo. And that day was filled with an abundance of margaritas. Margaritas, senoritas, and Golf! Top Golf to be precise. This year instead of a rousing game of Ultimate Frisbee we decided to play 5 rounds of the game of kings! Oh that's chess? Well then I guess it was the game of drunken Scotsman. Because Dagromm, and I decided to try out Top Golf. Essentially it is a two-story driving range with gigantic electronic targets all over the range. You sink up your bucket of micro-chipped golf balls with an account you open at the range. Then every time you hit one of your balls onto the range and hit one of the targets you get points for accuracy and distance. Points! That's right... points! It turns driving range practice into a game. A game where you don't have to haul your ass all over God's green earth. A game where all you have to do is sit at your table and order drinks from the beer girl that strolls by. Needless to say I won 4 out of 5 rounds and the whole day was awesome.

We then met up with Pokiman on Saturday morning for 15 hours of non-stop hot gaming action. We decided to break away from the monotony of Dagromm's house and move venues. Actually the fact that Dagromm is re carpeting his entire estate was the reason why we had to move venues. That and his wife no longer allows friends to come over after Dagromm showed up one night with a gang of Hells Angels he met at the bar in his local Bennigans. They said they needed a place to "lay low" for a night or two. Need I say more? It just so happened that my new office building has an entire floor that is one gi-mungus conference room with kitchenette. So we crashed my office and spread out our gear all over the room. We declared nuclear war, we slaughtered orcs and goblins in a dark underworld, we raced sports cars across the French countryside, we wagered on mythical titans in gladiatorial combat, and we ate ham and cheese sandwiches all day long. Glorious was every minute. I also believe that I won 4 out of 5 rounds on this day as well. But that was to be expected.

Rock Me!

The things your parents never tell you!

Based on some of the more recent comments from Gyuss, I could tell there was a great deal of sexual tension in the air. So I just wanted to be on the safe side and make sure that everyone out there in Blog Country was aware of this very serious national issue.



Please... please... save the kittens.

When Titans Collide!

The air was filled with an electric energy just before the fateful reunion took place. Tens of thousands had gathered from across the world to witness what would surely be a momentous event. As the crowd began to swell and the media swirled in circles a host of angles sprang forth from the heavens and shined their blessed light down onto the earth. For MRT and CyberD finally reunited after a decade apart. They reached out and grasped hands and the crowd roared with celebration. Camera bulbs flashed and a symphony orchestra spontaneously erupted with Beethoven's Ode to Joy. The two titans of mankind stood for a moment amidst the throngs of mortals before sitting before a bountiful feast.

Much was said between these two warriors of old but even more was communicated. They regaled each other with tales of wonder that defined a decade long journey of exploration and adventure. No topic was off limits with these two stalwart titans as politics, religion, and Indiana Jones were discussed at great length. Then when all the food had been eaten and the wine and been drunk the two icons of time stood up from their feast and agreed that such a reunion would become a regular part of their heroic rituals. Finally, after an exchange of business cards and emails they parted ways with thoughts of the next reunion in their mind's eye.

And now for something completely different

I took the DART (or Dallas Area Rapid Transit) into work today. I rarely do this but I'm turning over a new fiscal leaf and that means cutting gas expense for the month. Every time I ride the DART, I always grab a free copy of this city newsletter called Quick. Anyway... I stumbled across this article in it by a gentleman known as Alibaster K. Abthernabther. I cannot describe the genius of this author. You really must read it for yourself. In fact, as it turns out - this quasi-fictional-man-about-town has his own blog. Feel free to visit it frequently. I know I will. Sadly, I could not find his article from Quick on the blog so I am re-posting it here for posterity.

Dear Gary Coleman,

Good day to you, good sir. My name is Alibaster K. Abthernabther. I am a best selling author, champion yacht racer, hot-air balloon enthusiast and fellow recreational adventurer.

Welcome to our fair city! I could not help but notice the local news reports declaring that you had been spotted near and around our Deep Ellum entertainment district, filming a motion picture wherein you apparently wrestle a gentleman dressed in a taco costume.

That is to say the gentleman you were wrestling was wearing a taco suit; not you, Gary Coleman. Perhaps you were both dressed as tacos? Really, I'm not too clear on who was dressed as what, though I am quite sure that at least one of you was in a taco disguise. Nevertheless! Do you think for one moment that I have forgotten about the Ancient Golden Monkey Femur of Khali-Ahhh? Well, rethink that, my friend. Your goons may have knocked me out and tried to erase my memory with 100 CCs of hydromydrophenelin, which may have worked on a lesser man. But I am constructed of mightier stuffs!

I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. Actually, I don't quite remember yesterday particularly well. I think I was doing whip-its behind a Dumpster yesterday. That's a "maybe," though.

However, last week I remember quite vividly. So I remember the events of Nov. 8, 1942, as vividly, if not more so. U.S. and British forces had just landed in French North Africa. It was mere coincidence that you and I would meet there, searching for the same prize.

The legend of the Ancient Golden Monkey Femur of Khali-Ahhh needs not be retold. It is as infamous as it is sexy, and as sexy as it is deadly. It's an infamously, deadly, sexy, legend. But it dare not be repeated.

Mere hours after our dinner with the prime minister of Oonk, as dusk begat twilight begat dawn, we were embroiled in fisticuffs atop a mountain peak, naked and slathered in baby oil. Possession of the precious Golden Monkey Femur would go to the victor. And we both know that you were the victor that night, Gary Coleman.

Mark these words, old chum: I will reclaim what is rightfully mine. Most likely by the time these very words meet your eye, the Ancient Golden Monkey Femur of Khali-Ahhh will once again be mine.

Yours,
Alibaster K. Abthernabther

A giant falls...

I have to apologize. It's been too long since my last post. It's been a busy time in the life of the Cyber family but what happened this weekend has pulled me out of my cocoon. When I heard the news that Tim Russert died of a massive heart attack in his office on Friday I was truly saddened. Perhaps surprisingly saddened. Surprised because you always hear about this celebrity death or that celebrity death. You even hear about those that are taken in their prime. But Mr. Russert's passing was terrible to hear. Perhaps it was because he was the one political news man that I cared to tune in and watch on Sunday mornings. Perhaps it was his professional and unbiased approach to journalism that impressed me. Perhaps it was that intangible quality that you sense in people that tells you they are hard working and family centered. But for whatever reason I am saddened. My heart goes out to the Russert family. I cannot imagine how devastating it must be for them right now. As for the greatest political show on television: Meet The Press... well, I know my disappointment for the loss of a great journalist is shared by many.

Indiana Dad

You never know what to expect from children. I was up early this morning with Lil' Higgins and we were watching one of the morning shows on TV. Then, in the middle of his bottle, he sat up and yelled "Pup-pup!" and pointed at the television. I scanned the entertainment center. Perhaps my wife left one of his stuffed puppy-dogs on top of it. No, and there was no puppy on the program. So I carried Lil' Higgins over to where he was pointing. He was pointing at the program and he wasn't saying "Pup-pup". He was saying "Papa" - the term of endearment the kids use for my dad... their granddad.


It happened to be a case of mistaken identity because Diane Sawyer was interviewing none other than Harrison Ford.


That's awesome! So if my dad is Harrison Ford from Indiana Jones, I guess that makes me... Shia Leboeuf... damn it! Wait a minute... I guess I didn't think that out completely.

The Space Between...

Everyone knows that The Quad is a tightly knit group. We share everything... and I do mean everything! But every so often we come across a divergence of opinion. Such cognitive dissonance is almost always followed by copious amounts of cursing and death threats. But who can argue with Jamie Presley?

We all know Jamie Presley right? You probably remember her from her famous role as Joy Turner in the critically acclaimed series My Name is Earl.


Loyal fans will have also marveled at her death defying performance as Tina Armstrong in the movie DOA: Dead or Alive.



And the most ardent of fans will remember her turn as Jill in the blockbuster comedy The Adventures of Joe Dirt.



But what you may not know is that this accomplished thespian and gymnast of unlimited talent and unquestionable taste is also a fan of the Dave Matthews Band.

You will note the excerpt taken from a Entertainment Weekly interview some years ago:

Didn't you recently shoot a Dave Matthews video? Yeah, one of those weekends! I worked until 12:30 at night, then got on a plane and flew all night to shoot it in Orlando. It's for ''The Space Between.'' I'm a huge Dave Matthews fan.



I invite all Quad members to commence with borrowing and making copies of all my Dave Matthews Band CD's.

Let's Hear it for Math and Science!

Now this is what I call making practical use of all those college courses.

College Student Builds Tank!

The Benefit of Cigarettes

Perhaps the Marlboro Man didn't necessarily enjoy "tasting the adventure". Perhaps he only tolerated "Flavor Country". I'm guessing Mr. Marlboro simply had a severe allergic reaction to bees and wasps.

Yesterday evening the family was playing in the back yard together. While we were outside Lil' Higgins got stung by a bee. You could tell because he started screaming bloody murder out of the blue. We scooped him up and scanned for stingers. We found one on the tip of his finger and it was beginning to swell up and turn bright red. While Mrs. Cyber was in the kitchen getting ice I ran to the first aid kit and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"Do you really think that will help?" she asked me. She had heard the tale from my youth. I was stung by several bees during a summer job. One of my coworkers was a chain smoker and he said, "Just slap some nicotine on it. It'll suck that poison right out!" After I paused for a second to take in the absurdity of that comment he had already whipped out a cigarette, broken it in half, slapped it on my arm and covered it with a band-aid. What followed was the most bizarre feeling. I could literally feel the poison being drawn out of my body. It was as if the nicotine was a super sponge. Within a few minutes it was as if I hadn't been stung at all.

My response to my wife was, "Of course it will work!" I quickly followed the instructions I had been given seventeen years ago. I then sat and waited and hoped that my memory hadn't played tricks on me. I am happy to say that this home remedy works like a charm! Within half an hour Lil' Higgins was right as rain. I'm proud to say we keep a pack of Marlboro regulars in our home!

Good TV... Long Overdue!

Watching television this winter has made me feel like a member of the French foreign legion lost in the Sahara desert, with nothing more than a canteen that has a hole in the bottom: Endlessly agonizing.

But spring is finally here and so is some glorious new programming. Lost is on break but watching the new episodes from a few weeks back was like sweet crack cocaine in my veins. Torchwood gets better and better and I'm glad I've given the show time to mature. My Name is Earl was back on this week since January providing us with some classic white trash moments. I'm even enjoying the tired plots of Smallville. But it is the season premiere of Battlestar Galactica that I was most anticipating (next to Doctor Who coming out later this April).


Having had an infinitely long wait since the season 3 finale I've had plenty of time to digest the big reveal... the final 5 Cylons. Or is it? Perhaps it's the big reveal of only 4 of the final 5 Cylons. Can't we all agree that Starbuck is NOT a Cylon? It's too obvious. And aren't they missing out on some shock value to lump that big reveal in with the other 4 Cylons? To be honest I have a problem with Colonel Tigh, Tyrol, and Anders being Cylons, but I'll live. Really the only big Cylon reveal that I did like was the President's aid. This reveal is chock full of wonderful wrinkles that call into question the survival of the human race. Other than forcing the audience to say "Oh my gosh... not Colonel Tigh..." this choice only bogs down the continuity of the show and doesn't make me fear for the human race any more than the impact of the President's second in command being a Cylon. I guess I just like my heroes to stay heroes. I now fear some serious "moral of the story" moment on the horizon.


If the pervasive revelation that some of our best heroes turn out to be Cylons is some trite way of commenting on the nature of good and evil or an attempt to blur the lines of right and wrong... then I shall be well and truly pissed. Can't we just keep our social and political commentary to ourselves?

Perhaps this is the major flaw with Battlestar Galactica as a franchise. The entire mythology lives in this tight vacuum with one set of heroes and one set of villains and nowhere else to expand. They've done the best they could with what they had. They've brought into the story an impressive array of secondary characters and attempted to make them meaningful to the series. But perhaps the series is beginning to collapse in upon itself from the weight of its own expanding mythology. In an attempt to be innovative they are creating logic and continuity problems that begin to require the same kind of brain calisthenics that occurred when Lucas put out the turd-fest of Episodes 1-3 of Star Wars. The more mythology you overlay on a small group of characters the more problems you have with the rules of storytelling.

For me... Starbuck cannot be a Cylon. If she is it will ruin the series. I will stop watching. So happy Sci-Fi everyone!

Pissed Off - Grab Bag

I was standing over the sink last night washing dishes. You know... doing my little part to help out around the house. After a long hard day of bringing home the bacon I also try to clean that same bacon grease out of the pan that night. Anyway, I'm standing over the sink and I get to the part I hate the most. And when I say hate - I really can't understate how vile this is to me. Revulsion is not too strong a word. Loath is actually pretty spot on! I LOATH WOODEN F-ING SPOONS! The shit that get's caked onto those things is like a bond created at an atomic level! I know why you ladies like the wooden spoons for cooking... they don't scratch the pan; they don't conduct heat, blah - blah - blah! But trying to scrub dried egg, dried soup, or any other food filth off of those bloody things is an exercise in futility. I have to resort to using my own damn finger nails and - if I may peel back the curtain just a bit on my own inner psychosis - touching the food stained remains of dirty dishes is the essence of repulsive to me!


How about those stupid ass travel industry counter attendants? Perhaps it’s because I travel so much for my work but I've run across my fair share of these sons a bitches. In fact I had one a few weeks ago down in SoTex. When I travel I keep a tight schedule so I have very little patience for the out of ordinary delay! Anyway, I'm turning in a rental car. It's the end of a VERY long day and my frazzled wife and kids are waiting outside. I hand over the keys for the lady to provide me a receipt for the rental. She starts to tap on her counter key-board. Clickity, clack, clack, clackity, click, click. She pauses for a moment and then goes at it again for about five freakin’ minutes. More Clickity, clack, clack and Clackity, click, click. She stops and frowns before continuing for another impressive sonata. Mind you, she doesn't say a damn thing to me, but I can tell there’s a problem. So I wait and wonder when she's going to admit it. It goes on, and on, and on... until another five minutes go by and I have to say something.

Me: "Is there a problem?"

Lady: "Well I'm having trouble getting our rental out of the hold status."

Me: "How can it be in a hold status, I just rented it?"

Lady: "Well I upgraded you yesterday and I meant to take it off of hold but I couldn't."

Me: "So what about today made you think it would magically work?"

Lady: "Well I guess I just have to call regional and have them do it."

Me: "Do I really need to be here for this."

Lady: "Well, I assume you need a receipt."

Me: "Fax it to me... goodbye."


I have one final story for you today, and this is the pièce de résistance, the coup de grâce if you will. Dear heavenly Lord I almost throttled the woman in front of me in line at my local WalMart last week. I did my best to pick the line that might clear the fastest. It was late and I wanted to get home. As luck would have it there was a middle aged lady in a snappy blue blazer with about twenty items, so I jumped in line behind her. Little did I know she would stop the check-out girl for EVERY DAMN ITEM to inform she had a coupon. But wait! It gets better. You see she didn't have a stack of coupons. She had a stack of magazines. She had to flip through each one, page by page, find the coupon, extend her arms over the counter, without relinquishing the damn coupon, have the checker zap it, before placing the magazine back in her stack. She did this EVERY time! I almost had a fucking aneurism right then and there. But WAIT! It gets even better! Finally the checker rang up the total and this smartly dressed lady pulls out her check book. At this point I am scrutinizing ever move she makes so the fact that she writes the stinking check like it's calligraphy for a wedding invitation forces me to curse her under my breath. She deftly hands over the pristinely written check to the checker only to have the WalMart data base DECLINE the method of payment!!! Wonderful! Whip out that credit card and be done with it, right? Oh no... She proceeds to write another check. The checker objects but the woman insists this is a different method of payment... after all... it's a different damn check!!!!! It is taking every ounce of restraint I have to not knock this woman's block off. The checker stupidly accepts the 2nd check only for it to be declined as well. No shit, Sherlock Holmes! So what does the woman do? She leaves her groceries at the counter and tells her that she will return later with payment.

Dear sweet heavenly baby Jesus! Save me from a damn stroke!

Firing Blanks

Well, the deed is done. I went under the knife last week and my doc cut the main line... so to speak. I now join the ranks of G-Dog and Dagromm who no longer are able to spawn any more children. The only difference is that mine wasn't court mandated.

I have to say that the surgery itself wasn't terrible. There were only two moments of "make you want to jump up and slap that son of a bitch" pain. Following that, the recovery could have been much worse, but my old friend... I mean my new friend vicoden made all the difference in the world.

Now I'm back at my desk with a bottle of extra strength Tylenol. Only thing now left to do is empty the remainder of the clip. Apparently I'm still potent for a good three months. So watch out ladies!

Will Resume Normal Broadcasting...

Do I have some great blog-worthy topics to post for you people? Hell yeah! Why haven't I posted in two weeks? Because ever since my family got back from a trip to visit friends in SoTex, an annoying little virus has been running through the family. By the time it ran through my wife and kids the thing must have mutated into something quite deveastaing because it has had me on my ass for the last seven days.

Never mind the fact that I still hopped a plane for a three day work trip anyway. Never mind the fact that I also threw my back out so badly, I can now do a spot on impersonation of my great grandmother. Life must go on... Now to top it off, as my fever winds to a close and my back improves, I go under the knife for the big "snip-snip" tomorrow morning.

The hits just keep on coming!

But you can damn well expect some awesome blog action next week.

Anatomy of a Geek - Part 3

The main difference between going off to college and my last big move was that I was armed with better skills at making friends and I was determined to do so. But luck plays a role in these things and I happened to hit the jackpot. My very first friend was my freshman roommate, Gyuss Baaltar. The next day we met our immediate next door neighbor, Pokiman. These two as well as others mentioned on this blog such as Monkeywrench, Braveheart, Urban Cowboy, and Eagle Scout all became a tightly knit group of fast friends for four of the most fabulous years of my life. But no meeting would be more infamous in the annals of geek lore than that of Cyber D and Dagromm.


It was the fall of 1992 and Gyuss had just returned from dinner in the cafeteria and mentioned that he was about to go down and play this board game called Talisman with a bunch of the other freshman on the second floor. I hadn't heard of the game but when I learned it was fantasy based I was in. Dagromm and I met playing that game and we learned about of shared interest in Dungeons & Dragons. Following the holiday break Dagromm and I returned to campus and embarked upon, what I can only describe, as the most ambitious, creative, detailed, comprehensive, endeavor of a two year Dungeons & Dragons campaign. It started simply enough by recruiting players for the game. There were a few no-brainers like Gyuss and Pokiman, who had played before. But the vast majority of our friendship circle had no idea what an RPG was yet they condescended to give it a try. Because we were dealing with so many rookie players we realized we had an opportunity to do something very different. It was an opportunity to break the mold of traditional style gaming and bring something fresh to the experience. Our idea was to instill a gritty realism to a fantasy world that is typically lacking in fantasy games. So often game-masters focus solely on the mechanics of a game that the experience gets boiled down to a goal oriented arms race of who can accumulate more power faster than anyone else. This style leaves out so much of what makes RPG's great.


Consequently we identified three overarching aspects to bring to every adventure. The first was fear. We wanted the players to feel that the world around them was not this homogenous, friendly, by-the-book environment. In every adventure they would encounter prejudice, ignorance, betrayal, and an impoverished feudal society where trust was a more precious commodity than gold. The second was the school of hard knocks. Realistically the life of an adventurer would be a hard and thankless life. Most people would see you as nothing more than a mercenary and mercenaries are never to be trusted. We wanted to convey to the party that there was a reason why all the people in the world around them chose to be bartenders and blacksmiths… because adventuring was not always profitable but more importantly it was dangerous and deadly. This brings us to our third aspect that we wanted to instill into our mythology – Death. We made a conscious decision to make no allowances for the luck of the dice. If a character died based on the rules we did not change the outcome. Consequently many players started from scratch over and over and few players ever saw their characters advance.


Reading this you might wonder if our games were fun at all but I believe that our players shared an experience like no other. Because though the characters didn’t often reap the benefits of their adventures, we always tried to reward the players with something extra. From the beginning we provided a back story to the world around them, with a detailed mythology of original deities, information on how each race of creatures viewed the other, and ongoing information guides about new cities and cultures as they traveled the land. But the pinnacle of innovation was without a doubt our weekly newsletter. This precursor to every adventure was peppered with references from the characters recent encounters as well as littered with information that could help guide them on their upcoming task. Each newsletter built upon the last, rewarding loyal attendance and readership the same way a serialized television show might reward an astute and regular viewer with details only they can appreciate.


The Divine Messages as they were known became one of the most anticipated aspects of a two year campaign. But what was perhaps more amazing then anything related to the game itself was how the game brought different people together. To this day I doubt I will ever experience a more diverse cross section of individuals working together as a team towards a common goal. Of the nine regular players we had a theater major, a football jock, a Hispanic player, an African American player. We had mostly men, but the women represented too. We had straight A students and we had a player that eventually flunked out of school. We had business majors, English majors, psychology majors, economics majors and more. We had people who had grown up in small towns and those that grew up in the big city. We saw friendships develop that would have never exhisted prior to that shared experience. We spent hours of game time together but many have since spent infinitely more time outside the game. Some of my longest standing and dearest friends come from that experience and from a personal standpoint - I share a leadership experience with Dagromm that I am as proud of as any professional accomplishment.

We didn’t manage to play Dungeons & Dragons for all four years of school. Ultimately the multitude of other demands placed on any college student pulled us in different directions, but we all remained fast friends. Dagromm, Gyuss, Pokiman, and I continued to get together for a variety of different geek-fest activities but my last and best foray into Dungeons & Dragons will always hold a very special place in my memory. So for all you geeks out there in blog country… I salute you!

Anatomy of a Geek - Part 2

So there I was, a nervous thirteen year old kid in a new town with the daunting task of making new friends. I'd like to say it was easy but it wasn't. To make a long story short, my junior high years were a bit lonely for me but I found comfort in the escapism of storytelling. Unfortunately Dungeons & Dragons is a communal experience and that was in short supply, but I looked elsewhere for enjoyment and found it in Choose Your Own Adventure Books as well as my first attempts to write. I believe these years were the years that I learned the love of writing. At that time it was essentially the equivalent of playing an RPG for me. What I didn't realize was that writing is really the original RPG. If these activities weren't enough to solidify my geek credentials than my television habits surely sealed the deal.


Prior to leaving my childhood home I was introduced to the television show Doctor Who. My first exposure was in the form of an RPG (go figure). After playing D&D every day for years, my friends and I branched off into all variety of knock-off role playing game and the one we loved most was Doctor Who. I then learned it was based on the British television show and started watching from time to time. After moving away, Doctor Who went from being a "time to time" occurrence to a weekly occurrence of watching recording and cataloging episodes. I can't stress the geek importance of cataloging episodes because it was those in-between days when I made good use of my collection and thus spawned my penchant for collecting. Since that time I have collected all manner of geek item from videos, to metal soldiers, to collectible toys, and more. But I digress. I have friends that make fun of my love of Who, and I'm no dummy. I can see the wobbly sets, the over-acting, and the occasional flimsy story line, but I essentially forgive those things out of respect for what Doctor Who was for me at that time in my life and to a larger extant what Doctor Who did for the science fiction and fantasy genre as a whole. Like other kids, I have tremendously fond memories of watching each new story unfold before me, amazed at the never ending cornucopia of aliens, enemies, allies, and plot lines that dated back more than twenty years! That history and longevity was like a warm blanket of consistency for a child who was growing up and learning, like most other young people, that most things in life are fleeting.


Then came the summer of 1989 when my local PBS station stopped carrying the increasingly expensive Who serials. Needless to say I was extremely disappointed but timing is everything and it just so happened that my friendship circle widened to include two guys that I still call friends today. We grew up together between 10th grade and high school graduation. We learned how to drive cars, relate to girls, and formed strong bonds that I still cherish. I put aside Doctor Who, and Dungeons & Dragons, and Star Wars, and metal soldiers in exchange for the fast times of high school life. But unlike many of my peers, I never felt that I compromised my own personal set of values despite the avalanche of temptation to do so. I have no doubt in my mind that this was due to great parenting but also to a long-standing commitment of being true to myself, established early on by my unashamed love of my geekier side.

The fall of 1992 brought with it another big move as I embarked on my college years and an opportunity to fold together my every-man lifestyle with my inner geek.


To Be Concluded...

Anatomy of a Geek

So what is a geek really? I find the whole definition of geek to be terribly interesting because we come in so many different shapes and sizes. Is it someone obsessed and adept with technology? Some are, but that is not me. I do okay but I'm no IT professional. Some say a geek is someone who uses hard-core academics to live their real world lives, like using multivariate math to bake a cake. That's not me. I can't even tolerate reading instructions. Finally there are those people who have a devotion to something that sets them apart from the mainstream. Ahhhh... that sounds more like it. Yep, I'm a Doctor Who fan. I read Lord of the Rings and have even attended a Star Wars convention. And yet I didn't collect comics when I was a child, I actually had girlfriends in high school, and I've never... EVER... let my hair grow past the top of my ears. So even though I can lose myself in the crowd at the national republican convention, what sets me apart from the throngs of boring white people? The answer is my inner geek.

Or should I say my inner story teller? I had planned a post about my geek origins for some time and it seems like the death of Gary Gygax is fitting enough timing, partly because it was his influence that offered me my first look into a shared experience of creative story telling. You see it all started at the tender age of ten years old. My two best friends, who lived down the street, introduced me to the wonderful game of Dungeons & Dragons. I was immediately captivated by it. It was like my mind came alive with possibilities as I entered another universe where I could help to shape its outcome.


At that time in my life, I was like many young boys who loved cartoons, action figures, and pretty much anything that could delight and entertain. Ironically enough it is around this time that many children begin to see the perils of conformity looming ahead. Junior High was just around the corner and I had no idea the lengths to which society could go to squash a child's unbridled creativity. I am happy to say that I was one of the lucky ones. After being introduced to role playing games, when my two friends and I would get together, we would play nothing else for the next three years. It is hard to articulate that feeling of first being exposed to a game that literally required only a pencil, some paper, and your imagination. To this day I still have memories of those early adventures and the images that it evoked in my own mind. Those were formative times because it helped me appreciate and find the joy in creating something from nothing. In fact it was so rewarding that I refused to relinquish my grip on it.

The summer I turned thirteen I moved away from the only place I had ever known as home. I would see my two best friends from time to time over the next few years but I wouldn't play Dungeons and Dragons with any regularity for a very long time. I moved hundreds of miles away to a place where I knew no one. But I didn't let that squash my inner geek, because just prior to my move I had been introduced to a funky little British TV show called Doctor Who.


To Be Continued...

NBA eyes the Cyber Family

I am filled with pride as I address the media, blog country, and all NBA fans. Mrs. Cyber and I have weighed all the options and we are excited to announce that our son, Lil' Higgins will become NBA draft eligible this year. This of course will clear the way for him to become the number 1 pick overall in the draft. It was a difficult decision but you have to take these opportunities when they are in front of you. Of course we all know about him as a player. The great ball handling skills, knowledge of the game, and overall athleticism. But do you know about Lil' Higgins the toddler? He has a great courtside presence, and his leadership skills are unquestioned. He'll be a great addition to any team and will likely be the cornerstone around the franchise. My son will not be taking questions at this time as he only knows how to say the words "Apple" "Mommy" and "Dog". But I can tell you as his father, manager, and publicist, he is excited about the challenge. Finally, you can all anticipate a follow-up press conference as I finalize negotiations for endorsement contracts with Adidas, Gatorade, and Pampers. That will be all, thank you and goodnight.

Long Time No See

In the fall of 1992 I was a young lad venturing forth into the great unknown. I was headed off to college and the only other person I had even spoken with was Gyuss. We were to be freshmen roommates so we had called each other to talk about color patterns for linens and the appropriate scent of potpourri as well as our preference for antiques versus modern furniture. But other than that, I knew not a single soul on campus. Shortly after our arrival on campus Gyuss and I began to make friends.

College is such a great time for friendship - with almost no limitations. I don't think I ever pondered how many people I would be able to keep up with in the long run. You lived in the moment. Looking back there have been some that I wonder about and regret not keeping in better touch. You know those people in your life, don't you? Let's see... like the girl next door that ended up becoming an exotic dancer, the crazy nerd that ended up inventing the ipod, or the whacky dude that always cracked you up with his bizarre yet side-splitting sense of humor.

It just so happens that I've run into that "funny guy" again and he has his own blog... 4 blogs in fact! So go check out Robert's stuff at Too Much Time On My Hands. I don't want to oversell his comedic genius but reading his work was an instant reminder of his off-beat funn-ac-ity... is that a word?

Book Review: Webster's Way With Words

Last night The Wheel in Space hosted it's Cyber-Book-Club. We've all been reading a really compelling piece of work by Merriam Webster called The Dictionary. Today I'm happy to share with Blog-Country my review of this ground breaking work.

I have to say it is a dauntingly dense read, while at the same time rich with layered subtext. Webster demonstrates his powerful mastery of the English language by weaving into his story an elaborate vocabulary the likes of which I have rarely seen in other work. Webster also impresses with a fine grasp of structured story telling. Each of its 36 chapters are neatly organized, creating a natural flow to the overall work.

Admittedly, the attention to detail is, at times, tedious. While some have blamed Tolkien for taking a paragraph to describe a blade of grass. Webster actually takes paragraphs to describe the words blade, grass, and even the word of!

Still, the precision, creative use of language, and the near perfect specificity make it a gripping tale worthy of any personal library. In fact, more than 35 million people agree with me if the sales numbers have anything to say about it. In short, I highly recommend you go out and purchase a copy of The Dictionary. It is a real page-turner!

Next Month, the Cyber-Club is going to tackle another one of Merriam's great works. The Thesaurus.