Adam Oster's Blog, page 83

Monsters University: A Review

As the summer season is now upon us, so, apparently, is the time for me to actually watch first run movies.  Part of this is due to the fact that the drive-in theater is once again open, but something else occurred recently to open up our movie watching abilities. . . my son has finally gotten to the point where he can sit through (almost) a whole movie.

Of course, the movie we chose to test this on was Monsters University, starring his favorite eyeball, Mike Wazowski.

It was a pretty big deal.

In fact, my kids were so excited about getting to see this movie (in an indoor theater even!) that they completely forgot to beg about popcorn.  This was fortuitous, since we’ve just introduced a new budget for the family, causing things like popcorn to be secondary options when available. . . especially when paying movie theater prices for the treat.

Basic thoughts?  Darn good movie.  It had me laughing out loud in quite a few places, particularly one which involved some severe swelling for most of the characters.  My kids were both pretty into it.  My son yelling out the characters’ names as they appeared on screen, my daughter getting tense whenever there was a situation that may not go well for them.  Overall they both totally enjoyed the film (although, without prompting, my daughter stated Man of Steel was better, take that critics!).

It was a cute film which managed to stray quite far from what has been Pixar’s norm as of late.  This wasn’t a touching emotional film where dads find themselves hiding their tears because of some beautiful montage showing the lives of two people in love which ends up causing an old man to attach a billion balloons to his house in order to fulfill his wife’s lifelong wish.  It was much more in line with films like Animal House, Sixteen Candles, or Revenge of the Nerds (albeit, much more family friendly).  In fact, one particular monster had the habit of reminding me of the character named Ogre in the Nerds movies.

One thing I can say against the film is that I wish there was more that they had done with the secondary characters.  The monsters of the “loser” fraternity Oozma Kappa were beautifully cast and almost every second they owned the screen was pure delight.  Charlie Day as the philosophy major named Art was brilliant.

But what I found most captivating while watching this film was how truly gorgeous it was.  The skin textures, reflections in eyeballs, and the realism in things such as buildings, foliage, and, well, everything, was overwhelming.  I found myself staring into Mike’s big eye looking at the world he was seeing.  I was frequently distracted from the story as I looked at the matted hair of Art, or the discolorations in Mike’s skin, or the bat-like texture of Don’s moustache.

Of course, the short film before the movie takes this to an entirely different level, making you wonder what’s computer generated and what’s real.

Pixar has taken things to an incredible level.  Their ability to tell as story is still as amazing as it was when Toy Story was released, but their ability to generate a beautiful image is world’s apart from then.

I highly suggest watching this movie.  However, if you have the chance to see it on the big screen, I can’t tell you how much you need to see these monsters as large as you can.  The true beauty of this film can’t be seen on a 40 inch screen.

Oh, and how did my son do with his first indoor-theater movie?  Well, this is a kid who likes to be in his jammies prepped for bed by 6:30pm.  Our movie started at 5:00pm. . . he was getting pretty darn squirmy about an hour and a half in, but overall a contented little kid.

Can’t wait to take him to see more.

Summer is (finally!) here!

In case you haven’t been keeping up, weather here in Wisconsin has been pretty darn non-summer/spring-like.  In fact, I’d be willing to say they’ve been pretty darn winter-like.  But, for the past few weeks (maybe even a month now), things have brightened up.  The sun has come out on a few occasions, and my office has finally become the sweat lodge it is supposed (unfortunately) become during the warmer months of the year.

There’s something to be said about sitting in front of a computer, dripping stinky liquids on your keyboard as you attempt to be productive. . . the brain just starts to shut down after a while.

Luckily, I’ve been able to continue to stay rather productive, both at work and life (and writing, for that matter).  But, I have been finding myself wishing I had more time available outside, underneath that harsh unforgiving sun, adding to the local humidity with my own perspiration.

So, I’ve found myself getting involved in some heavy duty activity when the time permits.  The bike has already had its maiden voyage for the year, complete with weighted down baby-buggy.  I’m in the midst of completing our rather large patio destruction/refinishing project (halfway through the refinish portion of the project right now).  And, I’ve even managed to find a little time to hide out by one of the local lakes and do a little fishing.

Summer is here and I couldn’t be more excited.  Granted, that makes it even more difficult to want to sit in front of the computer and write, when I could be outside injuring my back with large patio blocks. . . but, lucky for all of you, I’ve passed the 10,000 word mark on THE RISE OF THE FAT MOGUL, which means I’ve finally reached the point where I can’t wait to figure out how this book ends.  And since I don’t have any ghost writers at my disposal, it means I have to work my butt off to get it finished.

It’s already shaping up to be a lot of fun. I can’t wait to share it all with you!

Have a good one!

Promotional Apathy

I read somewhere a while back that the only real way to make it as an artist is to do something every day to promote your work.  In the article I read, they noted that these things didn’t have to be big, but just something to keep your name/product out there.  It seemed like a rather simple idea.  Yet, even then I knew it wasn’t something of which I would be capable.

I hate promoting.  It’s something I get called out on quite often.  Family regularly reprimands me for not telling them about my latest completed project and considers me too closed off about such affairs.  They do so with good reason. I really despise marketing myself.

I’m just not really good at being open about my creative pursuits.  It’s not that I’m embarrassed by them, at least not by the finished product.  I think it lies within a fear of being yet another in the sea of many who believes they have artistic talent within them.  I have many friends and family who express themselves in a multitude of creative ways.  Sure, some of them are still early on in their pursuits and therefore have a bit more of an amatuer quality to their work.  However, I find myself proud of each and every one of them for pursuing their dreams.

For some reason, when I look at myself for that same pride, I fear looking like a failure.  It’s a rather stupid fear to have.  THE LEGEND OF BUDDY HERO has been received incredibly well so far, and the few people who have had the opportunity to read THE AGORA FILES (many only having read a portion so far) have expressed a love for the story there.  And I’m proud of what I’ve done with my writing so far.  Incredibly proud.

But for some reason I just have that one piece of self-doubt left, that one thing that keeps me from actually considering myself an author, or allowing other people to do so.  It’s really dumb.  I mean, if you’ve got a band and play a couple shows, you very easily consider yourself a musician (heck, many consider themselves that just because they know how to play an instrument), if you paint on a canvas, I don’t think you have too many qualms about considering yourself an artist.  Why then should I, a person who has completed two books with a third on the way, as well as numerous screenplays and short stories and whatever else, cringe whenever someone labels me “author”?

I think that’s one of the oddest pieces of the career of an author, and I’m assuming that the main reason I hesitate to allow the title to stick is based on the concept of a “published author”.  It’s a rather stupid designation nowadays, as I am, technically, published, but in the world of writing, there’s still a stigma attached to those who have not been published traditionally.  Self-publishing, or even independently publishing, puts you in the position of being an outsider to the craft.  Whereas local musicians and painters have very easy methods to showcase their work quickly to an audience and therefore gain an easy following, an author has to convince their audience to spend a great deal more time with them before that reader may decide they are a fan.

A quick look at a local store which sells many local musician’s CDs shows there being an average going rate of $8 for a locally produced CD.  The regular cover charge at a local live music bar is $5.  The average charge for most self-published novels (looking at ebooks, since printed books have a much higher base cost than CDs, which cost very little) is $5.  A CD offers at most 74 minutes of play time, a night at the bar, around 4 hours (although you will probably be gaining more costs by being at the bar for that long).

Researching on how long it takes to read a book shows some incredibly varying numbers (which is to be expected due to differences in reading speeds, lengths of books, and a number of other variables), but I believe the majority of audiences can expect to get at least a couple days worth of entertainment, if not weeks.

But that’s the real issue isn’t it?  It can take weeks to get the satisfaction from a novel, whereas with other artforms, that satisfaction is rather immediate.  You may enjoy a novel while you’re reading it (although that in itself can be difficult, as you have to find just the right author to get you really involved), but the payoff from a book is quite time consuming.  A CD, you can listen to while you’re doing other things, cleaning the house, running, or, you know, reading a book.  A painting can give you immediate satisfaction at any time of day, no matter what you’re doing, granted, you’re not going to be carrying it around with you, generally speaking.  A book needs you to be intimately involved, few, if any, distractions.  It’s an investment of time, not money.

When I hear that someone has read my book, I feel as if we have shared an intimate moment together, just them and us together for however long it took them to complete the damned thing.  How then can I honestly put myself out there like that, requesting that each and every one of them share that time intimately with me?  I feel almost dirty putting my information on every site out there telling people to read my book, almost like hitting up the personal ads.

Promotion is a dirty artform.  There’s nothing graceful to be said about it.  It is, without question, the most blatant cry for attention there is, as that’s exactly what it is.  But books are different.  Books are special.  Books are something where, no matter how many people have read that same book, that moment between you and the book is a moment only you can have. It’s rather magical that way.  Your experience with a book is not something that will ever be truly shared with another person, as there’s so much that you bring to the table yourself in order to create the picture.

How then can I really feel comfortable with emblazoning the words READ MY BOOK across my chest?

I think that’s where the difference really comes into play.  And I think that’s where the issue comes into play for a writer actually considering themselves an author.  An writer needs a reader to truly find themselves whole as an author.  I suppose since my book has gone quite international, and seems to be growing a respectable audience, I should probably finally stop fearing that term and accept it.

But for now, I’ll just consider myself a word enthusiast. . . And hopefully find myself capable of dirtying the waters a bit further with some personal ads for my book.

Random Toy Nostalgia

I have a whole ton of things hiding in a folder on my hard drive that happen to be items I want to review further in the future.  Usually I use these items when I’m feeling as though I have nothing to put on here.  Today just happens to be one of those days.  So, going through the folder, I happened upon a search for a toy I had as a kid (pictured).

This action figure was, quite simply, one of my favorite childhood toys.  I remember setting him up as the main character in all play sessions, giving him all sorts of super powers in which he could take down anyone who stood in his way.  He was, of course, the hero of the story, and he always won.

The thing is, until a few years ago, I had absolutely no clue who he was.  That was went I found a list on IGN of the Top 100 Comic Book Villains of All Time.  I hadn’t thought about this old toy of mine for years, but when I happened upon this page some sort of memory alarm started going off in the back of my head.

Yes, suddenly, after a lifetime of having absolutely no clue what this toy was, where it came from, how I even came across it as my own possession, I had a name, and, a backstory.  Not only was my favorite heroic action figure #65 on all time worst comic book villains, but he was absolutely powerless, just a smart dude who liked to cause trouble as he time traveled the world.

This character was completely different from anything I ever imagined he could have been as a kid, and somehow, in all of my comic book collecting since then, I’ve never actually run across this character that IGN felt deserved inclusion in their list of the coolest rogues.  Suddenly, however, I was not only able to to gain access to his entire history (no where near completed reading), but was also able to find the exact same action figure I owned as a kid on ebay (not purchased).

It’s amazing how easy it is to gain further insights into one’s own history thanks to the internet today.  As a side note, a few years ago, I found out that my wife’s father used to sing the same silly song to her that my father would sing to me.  It was a silly enough song that I just assumed he had made it up one day and continued with it throughout my life.  So, imagine my surprise when one day my wife begins singing that exact same song to my daughter.

Turns out, this song that should really not be considered much more than an odd recurring line was actually quite popular during the late 60′s.  And. . . quite creepy.

 

So, with that being brought up, I’ll leave you with the video of the song my wife and my father’s liked to repeat (They’re coming to take me away haha!):



Have a good one!

Upcoming Project Statusii

Good morning internetz,

So, I know, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lately focusing on all sorts of mushy junk and not spending nearly any time discussing the status of my current projects.  As such, I figured that a minor update may be worthwhile.

First things first, as you may have noticed was mentioned in a recent post, my family has just gone through a bout of Mononucleosis, you know, the kissing disease.  I guess there’s just too much kissing going on in this household.  My ever-increasing lack of energy due to this horrible virus came on like a storm, and I honestly had no clue what was going on.  Although I had made the resolution a month or so ago to get back into a regular writing pattern of a thousand words a day, I found myself more and more unable to do so.

But, I’m on the mend, and I’m happy to report that all current projects are currently still on schedule, although I’m having to do quite a bit of catch-up work in order to keep on track for how quickly I had hoped to move forward on them.  Monday found me in the position of coming to the realization of an important plot device in The Rise of the Fat Mogul which is opening that story up to much more than I had envisioned, all part of the greater saga, but I until Monday, I hadn’t pictured including as much history as this new device is going to allow, all while keeping things right in the line with the tone of The Legend of Buddy Hero.

In other news, the Buddy Hero short story, Dominion of Evil is now available for free on most online retailers, including Amazon.  It was always intended to be free, but Amazon likes to make it difficult to set that selling point.  Now that it’s available for the taking, it’s flying off virtual shelves and into people’s kindles like hot cakes, and we’re now starting to see some sales of the novel come from that story as well.  I’m in the midst of coming up with another short story as a sequel to that one, which I’m quite eager to share with you all, you know, once it’s written and everything.

Other than all of that, I fear there’s very little to report.  There are a few side projects that I hope to begin soon, but need to find the spare time to do so, and The Agora Files is anxiously awaiting final edits, pending the completion of the first draft of The Rise of the Fat Mogul.  I’m really excited to share that one with you.  All beta readers have had nothing but amazing things to say about it, noting that it is head over heels a better book than Buddy.  It’s action packed, and, dare I say, pretty darn awesome.

Anyways, I should get back to it.  I’m happy to announce things are all moving forward as they should be once again, and soon you’ll be seeing new published content hitting your electronic readers, as well as some paperback options. . .

Have a good one!

The Day of a Father

I have to admit that I feel rather blessed enough with an amazing wife and two fantastic children that most days feel like Father’s Day to me.  Our road trip across this great country of our’s was filled with so many wonderful memories that I can’t help but feel incredibly happy with my lot in life.

For the actual celebration of Father’s Day, my family went up to visit with my father-in-law, who happens to live pretty darn close to the middle of nowhere.  It was a weekend of no internet, no phones, and as much time outside as the swarms of mosquitos would allow.  We spent Father’s Day Eve on a boat, relaxingly pulling in bluegill after bluegill, since my father-in-law is apparently the king of finding spawning locations for the tasty fishies.  We ended up hauling in over 50 fish in a matter of a couple hours, only hindered in our abilities by a couple of kids who wanted to help out as much as possible, as well as, you know, eat and sleep and whatever.

And as if that moment of 3 generations experiencing an age-old way of celebrating fatherhood wasn’t enough, we returned to his cabin for naptime, in which I went down to the hidden fishing hole on his property to catch a few more fish for the morning’s breakfast.  A quiet little spot where one can collect his/her thoughts and also find respite from the bugs. . . it’s that good of a spot.

As I sat there, all alone in the middle of the woods, fish jumping at my feet, hooking yet another worm onto my line before beginning the next battle for supremacy against the little buggers, I found myself thinking about where I would be if I were not a father.

It’s not an easy hypothetical to answer.  I would quite possibly still be working the same job, would still probably be living in the same house (although many of the renovations we’ve been slowly working on would probably be much closer to completion), still married to the same woman that I adore.  In many ways my life would be quite similar, and probably quite simpler.  But that’s the part of the picture I can’t quite envision.  I haven’t even been a father for 4 years yet, but I have a very difficult time picturing life without my little minions.  Sure, I’d probably still have somewhat of a social life, and would probably have more money in my pocket, but the rut that can come from such a life seems to be too easily gained.  With my children in my life, every day is a new adventure, both for them and for me. Just yesterday I took my kids out to wash the car, something that both of them enjoyed profusely, making the task that much more enjoyable for me.  A task so mundane and simple suddenly became a source of joy and fun, simply because of two little runts slowing me down by getting in the way every chance they had.

I love my family and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  So, when my wife asks me what I want for Father’s Day, or what I want to do, I have a very difficult time answering, because all I really want to do is to continue being a father and a husband and having the adventures that this life allows.

Very often as I experience life with my little ones do I think back to my own childhood, my own father.  I remember lying in the same bed as him, enjoying the cuddles, but desperately needing to get away from his hot breath  I remember washing the cars with my parents and having that same amount of fun slopping suds all over the ground.  I remember being taken on long road trips, sitting awake eagerly to see what the day would bring as the road went on and on ahead of us, happy to be allowed a spot in the navigator’s chair to chat with either parent as we drove.  I remember so many happy experiences and find myself all too eager to experience them again through my children’s eyes, hoping that they find the same joy I did when I was in their position.  Happy to see those same experiences play out to their grateful smiles.

Being a father, in many ways, is like being a child all over again, except now you’re allowed to get your own way.  Father’s Day is, of course, a moment intended for saying thanks to our fathers, and I definitely want to do that to my own.  However, I feel selfish in accepting any thanks given to me for being a father, because I feel like I’m having too much fun for it to be something I’m being thanked for.

And plus. . . they bought me stickers!  (And yes. . . these are the cars after having been cleaned yesterday, stupid pollen!)

The Final Day of our Vacation (or was it?)

I had initially intended to be done with this series on Friday and give a final wrap-up/Father’s Day dealie for today, but I didn’t quite get there, since I felt I should probably comment on Man of Steel (recap: should have been better, could have been (a lot) worse, definitely worth the watch).  Anyways, the story ends pretty quickly.  Our final day was nothing super-special.  We returned to Epcot, my personal favorite place to be on Disney World property.  We did some things, like had breakfast at the nearby bakery connected to the BoardWalk Inn, had dinner at Le Chefs de France (which included a visit from Remy from the movie Ratatouille), talked to a turtle, had some ice cream, and overall, just explored the park that I never actually feel as if I’ve seen everything at.  It was fun, it was a slow relaxing day, and, overall, it was a nice cap to a whirlwind vacation that had us all pretty darn exhausted (well, that and the mono we just recently found out our family has been fighting for the past couple months).

But then it was over.  Now, our children took the news rather well.  The idea of getting back into the car and driving for another 27 hours didn’t really seem to phase them, surprisingly enough.  In fact, due to their severe lack of appropriate amounts of sleep, I think they were both pretty darn ready to get in the car and take things easy for a while.

However. . . we had one more surprise in store for them, one that hadn’t been added to our itinerary until rather late in the scheduling process, a visit to see my parents.  For those of you unaware, my parents live in South Carolina (where I grew up), and we found out that a stop over there would only add 1.5 hours onto our total trip, not to mention that we would be able to get out of the car for an extended break from the monotonous road, and. . . of course, my kids would be able to see their cousins that they rarely get to play with.

On our way up the Florida coast, my wife asked my daughter what she thought of the trip.  Of course my daughter (as well as my son) enthusiastically responded about all of the awesome things that had occurred over the past week.  Things like getting to see Metropolis, being a princess, talking to Crush the turtle, meeting the princesses and a multitude of others were all on the list.  My son would pipe in regarding the Dumbo and Nemo rides.

Then my wife asked, “Is there anything that would make this trip better?  Anything you wish we could have done?”

My daughter responded, somewhat sadly, “Well, I would have liked to go to South Carolina.”

(my son piped in about peaches).

So, it was quite eagerly that we made our way to my parents house, constantly asking the kids if they recognized where we were, as we neared our destination.  As we stopped in front of the familiar yellow house, my daughter looked confused.  She asked why we were stopping at this house, who’s house is it, where are we.  Then finally her (amazing) memory kicked in and she realized where we were.

It was a rather short respite from the road, but I don’t think my kids could have had a more fantastic time.  They ran around playing with their Southern cousins, although they were both obviously out of the energy required to do so.  They played with water balloons, when out on the paddleboat, and, well, had basically a summer’s worth of playtime over the course of around 6 hours.  My wife and I relaxed chatting with the older members of my family and filling our bellies with the foods of summer.

It was an interesting departure from the rest of our vacation, a moment of calm (amidst the chaos of 8 children running around (well. . . one of them climbed up on my lap and immediately fell asleep)) before returning to our journey home.  I think all of us found it difficult to separate ourselves from this moment, as it felt as though we had entered an entirely new vacation, one filled with family.  But, we had to press on.

The rest of our trip was rather uneventful (outside of an all-encompassing fog through the mountains, which, due to poor navigational choices, we ended up having to drive through 3 times).  Between naps, the dvd player in the back flipped between Star Wars, Rapunzel, and the Ninja Turtles.  We reminisced over the activities of the past week, trading stories of what our favorite parts of our trip had been.

Although the drive home was long and tiring for the parents and long and uncomfortable for the children (I can’t imagine being locked in a car seat for that long), I think it was possibly my favorite part.  It was our family at its best, enjoying our time together and exploring the world.

I’ve got more to talk about on this for my (belated) Father’s Day post.  For now I’ll leave you with the calming thoughts of a sleep-deprived family peacefully driving those long hours home, with dreams of mice, ducks, princesses, and pirates in their heads.

I couldn’t have asked for a better trip.

Man of Steel: Review (sorta) [no spoilers]

As you may have guessed, every time I hear news of a new Superman movie, I find myself getting rather giddy (yes, even after watching the atrocity called Superman Returns).  So, when I first started hearing about Man of Steel (in theaters now!), and the fact that they were going to take a more human approach to the Last Son of Krypton, I started making my plans to make it to opening night.

As luck would have it, the local drive-in theater decided to have a midnight showing of this shiny flick on opening night, paired with Star Trek: Into Darkness, another film I had been wanting to catch.  So, using my current Father’s Day power, I convinced my wife to load up the van with the kiddos and head out to allow them to stay up waaaay past their bedtime.  Honestly, the expectation was that they would both fall asleep shortly after the first film started, an expectation that did come to fruition.

Now, I really don’t want to get into too many spoilers.  It’s a totally worthwhile movie to watch. In fact, I intend to catch it again soon in a real theater, because the 3D effects for this film appeared to be pretty awesome, at least from the 3D trailer I saw before JP3D.

If you’re like me and feel rather cautious about another Superman movie, especially another Superman origin story (I mean, come on, who doesn’t know Superman’s origin by now?  The Superman shield is the second most recognizable symbol in the world, second only to the Christian cross), allow me to assuage your fears.  First, for the ladies, my wife (as well as several male friends I have who know about these sort of things) assures me that Henry Cavill as Superman offers more than enough eye candy throughout the film.  Apparently the sight of a shirtless, hairy-chested, ripped man of steel covered in flames is the sort of thing she gets into. . . things I shall have to take into consideration the next time I’m near a fire . . .and covered in about 50 more pounds of pure muscle.

Second, my children, who had fallen asleep pretty darn quickly during Star Trek, somehow realized when Man of Steel started up, woke up immediately, and stayed awake through the whole damned thing.  I have never seen either of my children be able to make it until midnight, much less the 3am time in which we were leaving the big outdoor screen.  They loved it and are both already talking about going to see it again.

For the general male, DC/Warner heard our complaints about the lack of super-powered punches in the blunder they called Superman Returns and delivered in spades.  The battles between General Zod and Kal El far surpass anything Donner filmed for Superman 2.  This gets down to some straight up testosterone induced brawls, complete with heat vision and . . . well, let’s just say that I’m amazed at how much collateral damage they included in this flick.  And Superman didn’t even have his questionable “reverse damage eye beam” from Superman 4: The Quest for Peace, so, yeah. . . things get broked.  It’s an action flick at it’s core, and action done well, although one can’t help but feel that they may have overdone their attempts to right the wrongs of the preceding film.

For the super-nerd, this movie does Superman justice.  Sure, we have the retelling of the origin, but they do make it an important part of the storyline, similar to Superman 2.  Sure, the plot itself seems eerily similar to that of Superman Returns (albeit, makes much more sense and doesn’t seem nearly as stupid).  Sure, Terence Stamp’s portrayal of General Zod can’t be beaten.  But this movie is much more about what it means to be The Man of Steel than it is about superheroes vs. supervillains.  The reality of Zod isn’t important because this story is truly about Clark’s journey to realizing his true destiny, as, of course, should every origin story be.

I honestly can’t say too much about this film without becoming a spoiler, but if you’re looking for a recommendation, I heartily give it.  As a man who has loved the red trunks since birth, I am in love with this depiction of the first superhero.  The dedication to details, such as with how the superpowers work, the inclusion of LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises logos, as well as a very brief mention of S.T.A.R. Labs helps grow the world that Superman lives in to be something more than just this movie, and *fingers crossed* sets us up for a DC version of the Marvel Cinematic Universe where we can finally see Batman and Superman on the screen together, aided, of course, by a woman with an invisible jet, a man with a ring, and the fastest man alive.

After over 30 years, DC has finally released a Superman movie that they can be proud of, and from the looks of it, the box office will respond in kind.

Star Wars!!

Note the fearful one being more interested than fearful at the rather creepy-looking sand person.

Moving forward on the thoughts I had during the course of our vacation, I bring you the day with very little to philosophize about, but plenty to nerd over. . . Day 5 brought us to Disney’s Hollywood Studios during their special event called Star Wars Weekends.

I have to admit that I was slightly less excited for this experience than I felt I should be.  As has been made fairly clear on this site, I’m a pretty big fan of the original trilogy (and the Clone Wars cartoon is growing on me), but the idea of this park being filled to the brim with more things to do than would be possible in the one day we were going to have to spend there, well. . . it felt a bit overwhelming.  Especially since the main differences in place were that there would be opportunities to stand in lines to get our pictures taken with Star Wars characters, and to see the Hyperspace Hoopla live, which is fun, but easily seen on youtube.

And although I’ll admit that I’m somewhat saddened that several of my favorite things to do in this park fell by the wayside, it was totally worth getting to hang out in a park where you could suddenly come across a Tusken Raider or a squad of Storm Troopers keeping you from your intended destination (albeit only shortly and amusingly).

But, before I get into all of that, I feel I should note a moment of pride for my daughter.  This trip was a bit of a new experience for her as she had just reached the 40 inch mark, meaning that several rides were suddenly opened for her experience.  Things like Splash Mountain were now in her domain (on which I successfully convinced her to raise her arms during the big drop #pride).  However, one ride that she was now tall enough to ride that my wife and I debated even giving her the option for was the Tower of Terror. For the uninitiated, this is a ride that is based on The Twilight Zone (albeit loosely) which takes you up in an elevator and then drops you 13 stories. . . and then brings you up and does it again. . . and again. . . and again.  It changes every time, so the number of drops in this ride is always different, but you get the idea.

Anyways, I finally convinced my wife that we should allow our fearless daughter to test her fear limits.  And after explaining to her in great detail what would be going on, as well as explaining how my wife still gets horribly frightened by this ride, she stated that she still wanted to try it out.  So, as one of the first activities of the day, me and my daughter walked up the path to the Hollywood Hotel (the name given to the building this attraction is housed in).  I expected the increasingly creepy decor to dampen her spirits, but as we got closer and closer to the end of the line, this kid just got more and more excited, jumping and screaming and overall having an amazing time.  I’ve seen kids around her age (always a year or so older) act the same way, but then have their bravado shrink as the elevator doors open to allow the riders to get in their seats.  Not so for my little Hal Jordan.

In fact, the entirety of the ride leading up to the drop was filled with excitement for her, although confusion at the odd imagery within, which is made to mimic the opening sequence of the old television show.  Then everything went dark. . .

My daughter did not scream, but the look on her face was one of such intense terror that I immediately became concerned that her heart was going to give out on her.  In fact, the photo they took of that moment, well, you couldn’t see her because of how short she is, but showed me bent over attempting to console her.  I was certain that we had far surpassed her limits for fear.

Then the bouncing stopped.  She was silent with an odd look across her face.  I allowed her the moment to collect herself which she followed up by simply stating, “That was scary.”

We talked about the ride for a few more moments as we awaited the ability to exit the ride vehicle and by the time we were walking through the gift shop at the end she was expressing her love for the ride and the need to ride it again as she bounded her way back out into the real world.  She was, of course, feeling the adrenaline rush that such rides provide, but that same feeling of excitement stuck with her for quite some time.  We grabbed some new fastpasses to allow her to ride again later.

Now. . . of course, when the time came to ride again, she did end up chickening out, but she did claim that she would have ridden again if she were with me, instead of her mother.  The fact that she claims Tower of Terror as her favorite ride at Disney World may show that her fear is something that she does truly enjoy as well. . . who knows.  We’ll see if her daring continues.  Perhaps I’ll have to get her on some rollercoasters soon.

Anyways, back to the Star Wars Weekends (quickly, because I’m already nearly out of time).  We didn’t actually stand in line to meet too many characters, the lines were just too darn long. But getting to see them as we walked past was incredibly exciting for all of us. My son got super-pissed at me for not allowing him to go up and hug Chewbacca as we passed him (and the 50-person long line in front of him), but talked about the fact that he saw Chewie for the rest of the day.  There was, quite simply, just so much to see, even if we didn’t get to do all that much, that the day felt like a success to all of us.  And my daughter is still saying how she plans to live at the Hollywood Studios and work on the Star Tours ride for all of her life, in between working as a teacher.

And the Hyperspace Hoopla (a humorous dance show involving characters from the Star Wars Universe). . . we got there late and due to the way things are set up, had a horrible view of the stage, but I get the feeling that there are very few spots to get a really good view of it.  It was fun, but in the future, I’d probably skip it and choose to watch it at home instead.

Anyways, gotta get back to work.  Have a good one!

My Son – The Mack

I had some reservations during the preparations for our trip, mostly involving our son.  We had a pretty good idea of how our daughter would respond to the different pieces of the trip, due to our previous trip, but he had only been a few weeks old the last time, and. . . well. . . he’s a scaredy cat.

The one thing that I knew could be a big deal for him would be to meet characters like Mickey and Pluto, characters that he adores.  In fact, during a recent garage sale excursion, he happened across a pluto toy that he immediately began taking everywhere with him.  But. . . well, this kid frightens easily.  He’s had some previous experiences with giant head characters, such as the mascots for the local bank or orthodontist (is it weird that we have walk around characters for both things in Eau Claire?).  They never went well.  He always showed interest, but when they got close, he would run for the figurative hills.

So, in preparation for the trip, I did a lot of work toward building his love for the characters we were going to see as well as showing videos of these characters as they appear in the parks. . . you know, all big and whatnot.



As you can see from the above video (apologies for shaky camera work, I was laughing too hard at my son’s antics by this point). . . this was an unnecessary fear.

However, I couldn’t have been prepared for what was to come as a result of the surprise we had planned for day 4 of our vacation. . . dinner in Cinderella’s Castle.

Now, this place was even harder to get into than it was to set up a reservation at the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique, but, well, since we knew that it would be yet another thing that would make this vacation even more magical for our daughter (and. . . once again, my wife), I also spent a fair amount of time on the phone with the reservation desk constantly checking for openings.

We got lucky.

Now, let me remind you, this meal was intended to be a surprise for our daughter, something that we figured the son could care less about.  Once again, we were proven wrong.

I present to you, this photo, of my son and his collection of kisses from five different princesses.  Yep, that’s right, not only did this kid love these princesses to death, but they loved him right back.  Snow White, Jasmine, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, and Cinderella all left their mark on my son’s face (and heart).  In fact, this kid was digging the attention so thoroughly that for the rest of the day he hunted for people he could get hugs from, including the above pictured Stitch (which occurred due to us happening upon a dance party with a few characters that my son went absolutely bonkers over) as well as just random people who worked at the park.  My concerns over his fearful nature were completely misplaced.  He couldn’t have been more comfortable with all of it.

Interestingly enough, one of the rides he continues to talk about, “Moomoo righ” (or Nemo Ride for those who don’t speak Jojo), has a moment in it which caused his heart to absolutely race, but he had to keep riding it whenever possible. . . and continues to talk about it yet today.

This kid got fully into the act and loved every second of it. . . this being the same kid that runs for the door whenever I grab the hose. . . the same kid who climbs up my shirt if the music gets too loud. . . knew when the time had come to just go with the flow and have a great time.

Now, my daughter. . . well, she has no fear.  In fact, as I’ll have to talk about in a future post, you could say she has absolutely no problem standing directly in the face of Terror.

Have a good one