Song for Jedi

On Saturday I remembered that I was in a three-day weekend and drove to Springfield to see my dad and brother. As with every visit to Springfield, this involved some sport (this time volleyball), batting cages and the driving range (why are there no batting cages in Dekalb?), darts/ping pong/pool, going to the movies, watching movies at home, some sort of cake (this time cookie cake), cards/board games (this time Uno), and perhaps the most traditional: a huge blow-out that tends to involve someone being kicked out, threatened ousting, or threatened semi-voluntary leaving. Ah, family. So, a good weekend in the sense that most of my muscles are now sore (which I always enjoy because I'm kind of strange), and I saw a really good film (Transamerica), a pretty good film (The Da Vinci Code), and crossed one more Jonny Lee Miller film off the list (Aeon Flux).

Then, on Monday I stopped in to see my mom in Joliet on my way back home. A pretty good visit that involved watching some home movies that have recently been converted to DVD format. I love watching home movies, even though it usually brings evidence of me as a little person not being very nice to my dog (I'm sorry Tuffy) and me as a little person being a selfish and greedy bastard. Although I was very adorable when I was small, up until the age of about 6, and it's been downhill ever since. But, to get to the point of this whole post, which is to help explain to my friends that frequent the Annex with me why I tend to punch people (and walls) and otherwise try to "fight" people, a lot of the home movies we watched were from Easter morning and involved me (age 3), my brother (age 7), and my dad in the living room playing around. This featured "the big fight" which was simply all three of us kind of beating the crap out of one another. So, this was my childhood. There were also "the good going-overs", where two people would team up against the third, with one holding a person down and the other delivering several punches to the stomach, and there was always the possibility of getting a random slap to the face, which began a competition of who-can-get-the-last-slap. This is why I wake up after going to the bar with bruises on my knuckles.