Behold -- the only source of heat in my cubicle

this scares me

Are you getting many trick-or-treaters tonight? I can't tell whether I have or not. After work, I put a big bowl of candy out on the front step and dashed off to class like I do every Tuesday. When I got home, I found half the candy scattered over the front porch. Apparently some greedy little goblins went rummaging for just the right piece and couldn't be bothered to pick up what they knocked out of the bowl. That really ticks me off.

It's probably the same kids who, when I offered them the bowl last year, took not one or two pieces of candy, but heaping double fistfuls and dove back in for more, and who looked very cranky when their chaperones told them "one" was enough. I wonder where the chaperones were this time.

Oh well. At least my house didn't get egged.

Trek check

Yesterday, for the first time in about 25 years, channel surfing brought me face to face with Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. A classic Star Trek episode airing on local TV? It was a miracle. I watched the remaining minutes of the show raptly.

Seeing Captain Kirk on the small screen — Season 1 Kirk, fit, dashing, arrogant — was like traveling back in time. (Slingshot method? Wormhole? Guardian of Forever? Take your pick.) I fell in love with Star Trek when I was 10 years old, and although the ferocity of my passion has waned over time, I've remained a fan all this time. It's a simple explanation for why I am the way I am.

I'm a sci-fi fan because of Star Trek. I'd always thought planets and stars were fascinating, so when I came across people who traveled among them, my imagination took off and never came back. From Trek I branched out into the boundless possibilities of science fiction and fantasy books, TV shows and movies in an agape fandom covering everything from H.G. Wells to J.K. Rowling, from Twin Peaks to The X-Files to Men in Black. And I just got back from bonding with fellow fans at Dragon*Con.

I'm liberal-minded because of Star Trek. Though I grew up in a conservative area, my mind was full of images of the multiracial crew of the Enterprise working together to make sure beings of all kinds got a fair shake. Some of the alien civilizations Kirk encountered were led by strong, powerful women, and some of them had strange customs and beliefs, and I thought that was all terrific. Accepting the alienness of others always made more sense to me than condemning it.

Maybe I'm even sane because of Star Trek. My hometown, my college town and my grad school town did not offer a whole lot of entertainment options that didn't involve alcohol. It would have been easy to move from boredom to despair or risky behavior. Luckily, I always had somewhere to go, in my mind at least, and responsible friends to hang out with when I got there.

True, Star Trek turned me into a big geek as well. On Star Trek, it was cool to be smart, so I embraced my inner science officer and kissed traditional teenage popularity good-bye. I may not have been hip to the latest fashions or the hottest bands, but I knew that arms races were destructive, that too much of a good thing isn't necessarily a good thing, and that you can't outrun your problems even at warp speed. It seemed like a fair trade.

After nearly three decades of being a Trekker (not a Trekkie; there's a difference), I'm still boldly going. I visit new places, meet new people, try new things. I'm captain of my ship, responsible for the trail it blazes and the trail it leaves. I know there's much more to life than just what we see here. And I'm curious: What's out there?

surly you jest

I won’t lie to you, I’m feeling a little surly this morning. Maybe it’s the grey, snow-spitting skies.

Or maybe it’s the fact that although I’m sitting in my office wearing an underneath shirt, a sweater, a scarf, and a North Face parka, my hands are still cold. I’d like to have a little chat with whoever it is around here who thinks that a chilly wind blowing through an indoor work area, in Minnesota, in March, could possibly be a good idea. I’m not talking about a slight draft, either. The leaves on my plant are aquiver in the constant breeze.

You know what would cheer me up, though? An iPod. Specifically, a black 30-gigabyte iPod that can play video. (I’d settle for white if I had to.) I’ve been considering spending this year’s tax refund on an iPod so I can download my favorite tunes and podcasts and take them walking/jogging/biking with me when it’s warm outside.

Other cheery thoughts: On Tuesday, I accompanied GrassMaster Amy to a performance of Annie at the grand, historic Orpheum Theatre. We met downtown at the Rock Bottom Brewery for a splendid meal and an overdue catch-up chat. Thanks to an early dinner, we also had time to do a little shopping at the store formerly known as Dayton’s. Then it was on with the show.

I had never seen or read Annie before and did not know what to expect. For instance, I thought the dog, Sandy, was a main character who would be onstage most of the time, but he was only on for a few seconds here and there. That’s much more realistic, I suppose. Such a good puppy! I noticed and approved of Annie slipping him plenty of treats.

I also expected Daddy Warbucks to articulate some actual reason for liking Annie, but he never does, even when he sings a whole detail-free song about why he’s adopting her. Maybe it was just this particular actor, but I never got the sense he cared about her. Since that caring thing is sort of the key point of the entire play, I thought it could use a little work.

But those are script issues, not production issues, and the production we saw was very, very good. The girl playing the title role, Marissa O’Donnell, definitely carried the show. She conveyed 11-year-old energy and cheer without ever being a stagy, saccharine-sweet, over-produced little ham. That’s a huge accomplishment on its own, but O’Donnell also delivered great acting and dancing, and dynamite singing. I was super impressed with this kid. The stage was dimmer when she wasn’t on it.

The rest of the cast bore up well, especially the other orphans and Grace Farrell. Miss Hannigan’s hair was delightfully menacing, and her villainous brother Rooster was easy to despise. Plus, there was an actor (he played Ickes, among others), who looked very much like Mr. Bean. But I found myself nostalgic for the good ol’ days when actors projected their voices rather than relying on microphones, because every time one of the actors stepped out of mic range, his or her dialogue was lost.

Note to casting director: Shemping* is dicey when you only have one or two people of color in the touring company. Any time my attention strayed from the plot, I amused myself playing “spot the African American cast member” with the ensemble.

The sets were pretty cool, especially for a touring production. The New York City street was especially vibrant. I don’t know what was going on in the Hooverville scene because I was too busy trying to figure out how the intricate bridge overpass was created. I also enjoyed noticing that the paintings hanging on the walls of the Oval Office and Warbucks Acres appeared to be computer-generated reproductions of the originals — and it occurs to me that maybe the overpass was, too.

Perhaps the best performance of the evening was given by my friend the GrassMaster. She had played Grace in a middle-school production of Annie and loves the show, but she showed great restraint in not singing along out loud. Thanks for the ticket, Amy!

So there you have it. Thinking about a few of my favorite things — oops, wrong musical — has definitely warmed my heart, if not my hands. Now: time for lunch.

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* Shemping is a term popularized by actor and writer Bruce Campbell to describe the cost-cutting measure of having one actor play several roles. It’s named after Shemp, one of the Three Stooges, who often had to double or triple up on parts in their movies. Campbell and his friends did the same in their own low-budget flicks, and Mike Myers is famous for playing half the cast in the Austin Powers movies.

*yawn* Sunday

Major pet peeve: misquotations. I have a better-than-average memory for jokes — meaning I retain about 11% as compared to most people's 10% — so it really chaps my ass when somebody repeats one I've heard (or told!) and gets it wrong. I was in my late teens before I learned to stop correcting them.

Whew. Just had to get that off my chest.

Until last night, I hadn't gone to Partner-san's house for a fight night party in quite a while, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it, cigar smoke aside. Most of my friends are very smart, very funny people. I passed up an evening at MarsCon to be there, a fact I did not even realize until . . . right now. Oops. So I guess I didn't miss the con much.

I baked chocolate chip cookie bars and fudge brownies for my contribution to the munchie feast. They were very well received, and I only had to bring home about half a dozen. I'll have some of them for dinner with some of the fine Bell's beer I bought. Mmm.

Being the huge geek that I am, I'm currently downloading a couple of stand-up comedy specials from iTunes. At $1.99 for 22 minutes, it's a bargain. They take forever to download. But Dat Phan in particular is worth it. What is it with me and cute, funny Asian guys?

And that's about the extent of my weekend excitement. I put away clean clothes, a chore long overdue, and did some cleaning. Just can't bring myself to iron, though.