(In the writing of that paragraph, I hopped back over to those sites three times because, y’know, something major could’ve happened in those five minutes…)

These are the times when it’s exhausting to be a politics junkie. For me it goes back to what I was writing about on Sunday; I love the story of election night. It’s got everything: suspense, foreshadowing, unexpected twists, memorable characters. Following these results is very much the same feeling for me as staying up until 3 a.m. with a book I just can’t put down.

Tomorrow the hangover will come. In part, it’ll be an “I stayed up too late, keeping my brain engaged for too long” hangover, and that’s the enjoyable kind. But the rest of it will be from the realization that, for all that energy expended tonight, the story isn’t over. All this, that seems like the denouement of a narrative I’ve been following for months, a narrative that surprises you with one more chapter every time. Sometimes it gets to the point where I expect Falkor to fly by my window at any moment.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s fun to try to guess what the next part of the story’s going to be. Will there be harsh compromises? Will there be complete gridlock? Will Joe Lieberman threaten to switch his caucusing party and shift Senate control to the Republicans? (Okay, that last one was a little über-wonky. I’ll dial it back a notch. And I don’t think the numbers will wind up supporting that scenario anyhow, so it’s a moot point.) I love thinking about this stuff…but it also makes me very tired.

Which I guess is a point of admiration to those professionals out there who have to keep coming back, day after day, and pay attention to this stuff all the time. It sure as heck isn’t a job I’d want.

But for now, it’s just hitting midnight, and I need to wrap this up if I’m going to make my posting-on-Tuesday deadline. So I’m going to post this, take one last look at the returns, then shut down the browser and go to bed. And tomorrow, I’m going to try to think about politics not at all.

Maybe instead, Falkor can take me for a ride.

(As part of my blog-a-day goal, I’ve set aside Sunday for a day of a bit more reflection; for posts that may go a little longer, and that allow me to just look in the mirror a little. These are more self-indulgent than my normal blog posts, so I’ll hide most of it beneath the jump text. Thank you for your patience. )

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Most days when I post to this blog, I’m doing so from our home’s little office. It gives me a nice view on the street outside, where I can occasionally see the neighbors doing neighborly things: kids riding scooters, couples taking their dog for a walk, guests bringing a bunch of balloons to a party…it’s almost like I’m living in a ’60s sitcom, sometimes. As I work at my desk with the window in front of me, I can also look to my left or right and see a vast array of books.

My book collection isn’t what it once was — it’s been weeded in dribs and drabs over the years, until just a few months ago I decided that freeing up space in this room was more important than shelves upon shelves of books I never read and are only even here because I got them cheap at used book sales and they seemed like a good idea at the time. So there aren’t as many as there once were, but still: there’s a crapload of books around me. More importantly, there’s a crapload of stories.

I didn’t grow up in a particularly storytelling household. TV, books, movies…those were more distractions than objects of value. Less so with books, just because our culture in general teaches that books = good, but my parents’ bookshelves always seemed to be pretty static things. And outside of the more-or-less annual slide show (yes, we had slide shows, though those ended when I was still pretty young), there wasn’t a lot of time spent sitting around telling stories. This is not to disparage my childhood, or to suggest that it was neglectful, I was just raised more in an environment of doing than telling.

Only…I’ve always been a story-lover. I always had the TV shows I loved and wanted to follow, and then later the escapes into Narnia and the Phantom Tollbooth’s Lands Beyond, to Choose Your Own Adventures, Nintendo games, comic books; these things stirred something in me that an environment of doing couldn’t touch. And once my junior high English classes introduced me to classic works of literature — Huckleberry Finn and A Tale of Two Cities and the (abridged, I later realized) Count of Monte Cristo — there was no turning back.

Stories have grown to be a key component of who I am. Because of my love for stories, I’ve learned how to take glimpses into worlds which I haven’t directly experienced. All the characters I’ve encountered in the books and movies and songs and TV shows I’ve explored have taught me how to see through eyes that are not my own. I’m not saying I always do these things flawlessly, or even correctly, all the time, but it’s the approach to the world I most strive to meet, and I’m not sure it’s an approach I’d have taken to if I didn’t have these guides to lead me on the way. And my enthusiasm led me to a career in libraries which, while presently stalled, is something that defines me in a very real way. And I married into a storytelling family, which is a wonderful and strange world (and occasionally a little alien, given the upbringing I described above).

This is not to say that stories have always been beneficial to me. I can be known to get a bit too passionate about needing to keep up with a TV show. Comic book collecting is not a cheap hobby. And, as I said at the start of this, those books can really intrude on your space after a while (not to mention, they can earn you some serious grumbles if you ask people to help you move). But when I can tread that careful line between love of stories and obsession with them, when I can let them inform me rather than consume me, that’s when I’m at my best.

I actually find it a little hard to tell my own stories. I’m not sure why — doubts about whether, should I try, I’ll actually have something to say, maybe. That comes back to the purpose of this blog-a-day project, ultimately; I need to tell little stories to see that I can tell stories. I admit, most of what I’ve written here so far is fluffy top-of-the-brain stuff. It’s not that I don’t want to go deeper, but before you can tap the depths, you have to skim off what’s on the surface.

Jon Stewart recently did an interview on NPR’s Fresh Air, and one thing he said stuck with me: when a comedian gets started, he tells jokes about himself and his family, because that’s what’s most easily reached. But eventually, that well runs dry, and that’s when he reaches for the next stage; and after that material (generally the experiences of travelling as a professional comic) runs dry, that’s when comedians turn to the big stuff.

So that’s what I’m hoping to accomplish here. Writing about Nintendo cheat codes or Halloween music and specials or even my fitness goals aren’t really where I ultimately want this project to be. But it’s where I need it to be right now, to get that stuff out of the way so I can reach what’s deeper inside. Because in the end, I want to tell you, my readers, the stories that are worth telling.

The game that we wound up playing was Dicecapades. It’s not one that I had heard of before, but definitely one that I would love to seek out to add to my stash. Using a variety of dice — four-, six-, eight-, ten-, twelve-, and twenty-sided; dice with pictures; dice with playing card values; etc. — players have to engage in challenges ranging from math problems using the dice rolled to drawing a specified image to stacking specific dice in 30 seconds or less.

At one point in the game, the following trivia question came up for my dad: “What is the secret code for unlimited lives in Konami’s Contra videogame?” As everyone around the table gaped in utter confusion at the question, I just had to laugh. As I explained after my dad gave up, there is a certain type of geek, in my general age range, who will have absolutely no hesitation in reciting

↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ← → ← → B A [start]

For that particular set of geek, it’s not just a secret code for a Konami game; it’s a secret code of identification. If one of us hears another person recite that code, there’ll almost certainly be a shared glance and a knowing smile. It’s the inside handshake of the Nintendo generation.

How pervasive is this code to that set? Well, it’s got its own Wikipedia entry; there’s an indie rock band (now defunct) in Jersey that used it as their band name; G4 did a segment on it:

And most tellingly? There are t-shirts:

So there you go. If you didn’t know this code before, now you do. And if you did already know it? Well, allow me to share with you a glance and a knowing smile.

And, of course, unlimited lives.

Anyway, to prove I can always, always over-think things, here are some things that come to mind as I’m watching this right now:

• I find myself wondering about the psychology of the people giving Charlie Brown a rock. What’s going on there? Do people in CB’s neighborhood keep rocks on hand for kids they don’t like — and, if so, how do they know which kid is which? Is it a neighborhood tradition to give a rock to the worst-costumed kid in each group? Or is it a form of magical realism, where Charlie Brown gets a rock because of his perception of himself?
• Charles Schultz always asserted that he didn’t picture Charlie Brown as being bald, but as having very light hair. If that’s the case, then why, in this special which Schultz was (I believe) actively involved in creating, are the girls able to write on the back of his head as if it was a smooth surface?
• What is that sound supposed to be as Snoopy rises out of the pumpkin patch, anyhow?
• It’s 7:33, and this special is slotted until 8:00. How are they going to fill the time? …Oh. You’re Not Elected, Charlie Brown. That’s…timely. If not particularly exciting. (Wikipedia tells me ABC has been airing these two together since 2006. Goes to show how much I’ve been paying attention, I guess…)

There’s something about Halloween that works with television (and movies) the way no other holiday quite does. I’d imagine it has something to do with the ideas of costumes and playing pretend that are inherent in Hollywood to begin with (and the fact that it’s a secular holiday, so they don’t have to worry about offending most religious sensibilities, probably helps).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are Halloween-themed episodes of Community and The Office waiting to be watched…

If you know me at all, you probably know that I’m a linguaphile; I love learning new and interesting things about the ins and outs of language. On any other topic, there’s a good chance I’ll keep my opinions to myself, but when it comes to the English language, I will go on and on with the slightest provocation. (I’m not exclusively inclined towards English, but the fact that it’s the only language I can speak or read undercuts my appreciation of what makes other languages interesting.)

Yesterday saw just such a provocation. One of my regular reads, Andrew Sullivan’s Daily Dish blog, was looking at the necessity of the serial comma¹ — the comma before the and in a compound noun phrase (so, as in the quote just below, “Mary, John, and Frank” vs. “Mary, John and Frank”) — and I had to weigh in:

Your reader’s example – "The $1 million was divided between Mary, John and Frank," is a lot different than "The $1 million was split between Mary, John, and Frank." – is completely nonsensical.

It suggests that, without the serial comma, it is necessary to read everything after the first (only) comma as a single noun phrase; so, "The $1 million was divided between [NP1], [NP2]." But substitute any single noun phrase into that, and you can see it’s ridiculous: "The $1 million was divided between Mary, John" is grammatically incorrect, and so can’t be a viable way to read the sentence. Whether or not the serial comma is there, the money is being divided three ways.

Weintraub’s example, as well as your reader’s "Ayn Rand and God" example, points to a very specific occurrence of a serial list: where the first noun phrase in the list ("his two ex-wives," "my parents") suggests a specific count of individuals equal to the number of noun phrases following in the list. If the apocryphal dedication had been "To God, my parents and Ayn Rand" or any order other than having "my parents" first, there would be no confusion regardless of the presence or absence of the serial comma.

A little pedantic, sure, but I like talking about this kind of thing, and it’s rare to get a receptive audience. Well, imagine my immense pleasure when, on opening up Sullivan’s blog this afternoon, I saw that my email response led off the next blog post on the topic!

I don’t really have anything more to say about this²; I just thought a little boasting on myself would be in order.

¹ — Yes, I really am that much of a language geek that I have an opinion on the serial comma.³

² — That’s not true at all; I could probably write a five-page essay on the strengths and weaknesses of the serial comma. I’m just trying to go a little easy on you, dear reader.

³ — I’m also that much of a geek that I use footnotes. Yup, this is what you’re in for with my blog.

I’m signed up to participate in the Hot Chocolate 5k in…oh geez, less than two weeks, which is all good and fine, except for one problem: I am terribly out of shape. We’re talking just a few degrees away from winded-going-up-a-flight-of-stairs out of shape. But I’ve been working on it; over the past month, I’ve been making sure to go for runs (well, “runs”, as there’s quite a bit of walking involved) of at least half an hour several days a week. I’m at the point where I can consistently run a (slow) mile without needing to stop, but there’s still a way to go from there. And of course, the 5k is just the beginning. I really need to have some longer-term fitness goals. To help me with that, I’m going to dedicate Mondays to looking at where I’m at in those goals. Posting it here should serve to motivate me…I hope!

So let’s talk fitness goals. Short-short term, I’m aiming to be able to run at least half this 5k without stopping for a walk. Longer term, I’d like to shave two to three minutes off my mile, actually complete a 5k, and…we’ll start with those. And then there are the numbers: setting a goal of my 35th birthday (giving me a little under a year), I’d like to lose 20-30 pounds, drop a couple of digits from my waistline, lower my resting heart rate, and balance my cholesterol.

I’ll post my running stats week to week, but I’m a little shy about the other numbers, so I might just note my baselines and post the changes here. Also, I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to achieve some of these goals, so if anyone has any tips, I’m receptive.

Any which way, I don’t have the data on-hand to post the numbers today, but with the stage set, next Monday the tracking begins. Wish me luck!

I may restore some or all of the older posts at a later date (although I personally feel most of them were a bit on the lame side), but for now, you’ll have to settle for all NEW content. I know; it’s a horrible burden I put on you, my readers.  

(Gah! I’m testing out posting this with Microsoft’s Windows Live Writer, and it just changed into the above smiley which, honestly, is a little freaky-looking. I’m going to have to see if I can discourage this particular habit in the software…)