Now if your first response to that headline was to say, "Which Star Wars? They're all Star Wars. Do you mean Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope?" then first of all I'd like to invite your pedantic ass to go jump off a wall and secondly I'd like you to accept the fact that I'm a child of the 70s and for me, "Star Wars IV: A New Hope" will always be "Star Wars" and the reset go by their secondary name. Got it?
Now that we've resolved that imaginary fight, I'll continue.
The kid has been asking about the original films ever since I went to see the last one in the theater ("Star Wars IX: The Rise of Skywalker" if you need it spelled out) but she wasn't sure if she wanted to see it because she abhors violence.
I assured her that the violence in the original trilogy was the sort that could be dismissed - laser blasts, people disappearing as the lightsaber goes through them, explosions in space - and that there wouldn't be any blood and guts for her to contend with.
I did neglect to remember the creature getting his arm cut off and then the camera panning down to the bloody limb lying on the floor. I also forgot about the charred corpses of Luke's aunt and uncle. Minor details. She was fine.
I thought she might have an issue with an entire planet being blown up but she was strangely fine with it. She recognized the tragedy as such but didn't dwell. Phew!
So now she gets references that have been zooming over her head for so long, and she's hungry for more. It was all I had not to just launch us right into Empire but I held back as I want her to savor these films and really digest them.
And now there are soooooo many questions and I'm loving it, because my geek cred is really pulling its weight, but for her it's just her dad knowing a lot about something she's interested in, and that'a pretty awesome in my book.
Now I just have to figure out how to explain the train wreck that is the prequels.
Points to you if you have Pink Floyd in your head now. You're welcome.
In this day and age of being able to gauge the relative success of something you've said, it's almost refreshing to have no measure whatsoever on this site.
On most social media platforms there is that little heart that sends forth the implication that someone, somewhere felt a certain amount of adoration for your contribution to the world. People collect them like baseball cards, basking in the glow of topping 100, or 1000, or even more. On Twitter it's also the retweets, where someone is so impressed by your cleverness that they effectively want to say "hey everybody, look at the great thing this person said."
It's usually not actual love, however, just a grunt of satisfaction as they scroll past.
Well, except for that picture of me in the bow tie. That brought all the love.
My brother's kind of rocking the intense baseball vibe there too, if I'm honest.
But here, in this little corner of the ethersphere that I've claimed, I have no way of knowing if I'm talking to myself or thousands. The likeliest scenario is that no one reads this regularly and things will only be seen initially when someone first comes to the site.
And that's perfectly fine, because it means I can say what I want without fear of ridicule or repercussion.
I wish I could be one of those people who lived their life like that regardless, with no concern for how they looked or what people thought. But I'm not. I'm this guy who writes stories and is currently telling himself it's okay to say what he wants.
So, unbridled and unrestricted, here I go:
Mushrooms taste like what they're grown in.
God that feels good to get off my chest. Hopefully I didn't just destroy my career before it even got started.