Quittersmith

I have been playing Rocksmith to the exclusion of all other Xbox games ever since I bought the title and my guitar nine months ago.  Sure, I still threw the occasional bird at a pig now and then but I didn't want to get side-tracked for days or weeks on end by pretending to be some hyper-violent "concierge to the world" in Saint's Row 3 or whatever.

I used to play pretty much every day for at least an hour and a half.  Sometimes there would be marathon sessions of three or four hours on the weekends.  I looked forward to getting my butt kicked every other Saturday or so over at Jimmydunes' house during multi-player sessions.  It wasn't about the score, though.  Well, it was in the rare instances I was winning, of course (I'm only human), but mostly it was about the playing.

The difficulty level ramped up quite a bit in a short period of time but I was holding my own just fine.  It felt awesome. But no sooner did I write my article borderline-bragging about my progress after I hit Level 8 that I hit a wall.

I Got Mine by the Black Keys is, technically, one of the easiest songs in the game.  The last time it was in my setlist months and months ago I needed a measly 45k or so to pass and it took me forever.  Once I got the opening barre chords, the main chord progression, and some of the solo down, I was able to barely eke out enough points after dozens and dozens of attempts to move on.

I was shocked to see it re-appear in my new setlist at a whopping 90k!  That was a tremendous (and seemingly unreasonable) jump but, surely, I had improved well enough to crush out this largely repetitive pentatonic-based ditty.  Heck, I'd probably be able to play this in Master Mode in short order. Right?

Since I only play the songs and arrangements that are in my current setlist, enough time passes where I forget most of the music by the time the tune re-appears at its new, higher level.  Even so, I usually score 20% higher on my first run-through than the level I struggled to reach during my last attempt.  

Evidence of progress right there!  Sweet!

Yeah.... Not this time.  I was barely able to hit the score I had before.  Well, no worries.  I'll just try again.  Huh.  A little better, but not much.  Dozens and dozens more playthroughs and hours and hours of riff practice only got me to about 70k or so, which is where I sit now.

This song has a "simple" pentatonic portion that, for some reason, has turned into the musical equivalent of a tongue twister for me. I am just too undisciplined (for now) to run it consistently.

The mathematical part of me understands the concept of "infinity".  I am perfectly comfortable with the idea that some things are immeasurably big or immeasurably small. It wasn't until I hit this wall, though, that I truly knew what "never" feels like.

I am not the only one whose joy is taking a hit here. During the opening chords of one of my offline practice sessions a couple of weeks ago, I saw my three-year-old son perform what can only be described as the most sarcastic, mocking dance in the whole wide world.  It's impossible to describe in text, so you are just going to have to take my word for it - it was hilarious.  

Fast-forward to late last week.  I was sitting on the couch yet again plinking out the "simple" pentatonic portion, waiting for my kid to get out of the bath and get changed for night-time.  He came into the room in his PJs, looked at me holding the guitar, and sighed "Don't you want to do something fun instead, dad?"

Yes.  Yes I do.  Anything but play this damn song anymore.

I went to Jimmydunes' place a couple of times this Memorial Day weekend.  He helped me change out my strings and we "jammed" for six or seven hours over a couple of days playing whatever songs and arrangements we felt like.  It was a blast.  It was fun again.

As I told you before, I am not musically inclined (I ain't got rhythm, yo).  I also told you before that I don't quit.  Only one of those things is still true. 

I am going to give up the Level 9 “New Guitar Challenge” I made with my wife.  I still think I won’t remove songs from the setlist, but I will jump at the chance to lower the qualifying score on songs that are killing me.  Outside of the gigs, I will play what I want in whatever arrangement I choose (there are still about 90 arrangements I have not touched).  I might even start getting some DLC.

As far as the song goes, eventually I will get it.  Eventually, I will become disciplined enough to run through this song at 90k with very little difficulty. Eventually, I will go back, read this article, and wonder what the hell was wrong with me.

In the meantime, I cheerfully present this apropos clip.  Enjoy!

Houselessness

Picture  your reaction if a gypsy fortune teller (you know... the kind you see all the time working at carnivals in cartoons but never, ever in real life) were to say to you: 

Ahhh, yes... The clouds are parting. I see you... Far in the future... You are fifty years old...  Your hair and beard are both greying... It is raining a little... You are dressed as a woman, dancing on a street-corner, happily waving at traffic...

You might be angry and insulted, and you would certainly be dismissive : "Ain't no way that crazy broad is right.  Why would I be dressed as a chick?! Ahhhh... she's probably drunk or high or sumptin'".  Thirty years later there you are, the gruff, temporarily laid off welder, wearing a Statue of Liberty costume outside of a local tax preparation office, trying to appear cheerful in the freezing February drizzle as you go through your dance routine again. 

It's amazing how time and perspective turns "Oh, that'll never happen" into "Wow. That happened. In retrospect I really, really should have seen that coming from, like, a billion miles away. "

What does this have to do with me?  Well, I'll tell you. I mentioned already that I am in the process of moving. Now, here's the screwed-up sounding part. If all goes according to plan (according to plan, mind you!) my status will change from "homeowner" to "homeless war veteran" a little less than two weeks from now!

Those of you that know me also know that label is technically true in the same way that a shot glass filled with English Leather is technically an alcoholic beverage.  Wait.  I’ve used that metaphor before... Let’s try: It’s “true” using the same rules that allow James Carville to be qualified as “humanoid”, instead.

Meh.  Weak.  But you get the point: The label is 100% accurate... It’s just not very “true”.

But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t milk it for all it’s worth, right?  Oh, sure, you could yell “stolen valor” this and “patently fraud” that, but why can’t I have my piece of the pie, too? Where is the crime in finally having the chance to pursue my passion of drunkenly yelling free-form jazz sounds into the car windows of motorists helplessly stopped at red lights until they give me cash?

Lawyers and police officers need not answer that last one.

Hmmm... Now that I think about it,  I hope I don't have to share a streetcorner with one of those tax time Uncle Sams, cuz some of those fellas can really groove. I mean, have you seen these guys? I'm talking pharmaceutical-grade-Red-Bull level dancing, here.  

I... I can't compete with that.  I’m gonna need a hook.  

I’ve got my Sharpie.  I’ve got my cardboard.  I’m just tapped for ideas on what to write.  I want to say to the world “I want your money.  In no way do I deserve it, and, although I am capable of doing so, I would really rather not work for it.”  If you’ve got an idea let me know.  Keep it clean, please. 

Well... Flawlessly-ish...

Yeah, I know, I am probably the last person in the world that should be pointing out typos... The rest of the four-page color brochure this came from was just so beautifully done, I couldn't resist.

More Fridge Stuff

So, what’s all this, then?  More stuff for The Fridge? 

Sigh... Fine.  Let’s do this.

January 17, 2012

According to him, this is a note to a parent from one of his teachers describing some minor, unspecified bad behavior that one of his female school chums allegedly committed.  He says it starts off "Dear Raven's Mommy and Daddy.  Raven was a twinkling star today..." but the narrative starts off a little muddled and is super-hard to follow after that - the "crime" changing and growing less and less lucid with each retelling.

We are not sure why he was trying to frame the little girl but some clues make it apparent that this is an obvious forgery.  See, when his teacher does send home notes to parents they are usually a) written on a smaller plain white piece of paper b) written in  a single color of pencil or pen and c) not encoded in a script comprised of a combination of English, Greek, Linear B, Gregg Shorthand, Elvish, and possibly Klingon symbols.

April 11, 2012

It's now a few months later and, although his handwriting is still atrocious, it is still better than yours or mine when we pretend to "sign our name" in the little box on the scanner at the grocery store.

Here he used the craft box at school to attempt to write out a sentence about a pig.  According to his teachers, they didn't help him at all. Frankly, I'm not sure they needed to say that... The gap-toothed yokels that ran his previous daycare, however, wish they could wordsmith at this level.  Hell, those jokers would probably have tried to claim this work as their own...

Hey,I know it's not perfect. The sentence structure is non-traditional and the letter order is a little avant-garde but you gotta admit it is a good attempt for a three-year-old.  I am a little stumped, though, about the last bit.

I mean, sure,  it might be worth 158 points on a Triple Word Score, but I am afraid I am totally gonna have to "challenge", here.  I am definitely not going to try to pronounce it because I'm pretty certain there is a chance that doing so might call forth a demon or send me back to the fifth dimension or something. 

Regardless, it’s pretty obvious he totally phoned it in.  Well, I suppose a few days in "the Box" will teach him to focus a little better.

I will let you know how it turns out.

Puzzle for Charity Removed

Since no one solved the most recent puzzle by the May 18th deadline, the Puzzle for Charity has been removed.  

I will post more information on this and update the appropriate articles as time permits.

Also, expect more changes to the sidebar "soon".

I Before E, Except When It Isn't

We are slogging through the process of teaching our young son to read and I am beginning to wonder if giving someone the gift of literacy is worth the effort if the language you are working with is English.

I would have though this would have been easier.  I mean, he has known that those sticks and squiggles we call "letters" have had some sort of meaning since before he was a year and a half old.  The first ones he could name were "A" (primacy effect, I guess) and "X" (thanks, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse treasure hunt episode!). He knew the alphabet song soon afterwards and could identify all uppercase and lowercase letters and the sounds they allegedly make sometime before he turned two and a half. 

I say "allegedly" because this stupid language is rife with land-mines  for someone who is new to English.  This is especially true if that person is also new to the concept of "there are exceptions to every rule - probably even this one - so you should pretty much ignore most things people tell you... Except this, of course".  To you or me, that's pretty much our world in a nutshell. To a three-year-old, it sounds like you are just making it up as you go along. 

An aside, here.  If you are ever cornered by a three-year-old and are asked a question you don't have a snap, official sounding answer to (when you die does what you are holding go to Heaven with you, why does Darth Vader wear a cape, etc.), watch for a subtle head turn away about five seconds into your "ummmmm" filled response.  Lacking the language skills to do so directly, this is the closest they can come to tiredly sighing "Once again, I ask a simple question and, once again, you don't have a blanking clue what you are talking about, do you?  You disgust me."

Where was I?  Oh, yeah...  Land-mines. 

A famous land-mine example is the argument that the made-up word "ghoti" should be pronounced "fish": 'gh' as in rough, 'o' as in lemon, and 'ti' as in station.  Another great example is the song Crazy ABCs by BNL  - "A" is for "aisle", "B" is for "bdellium", "C" is for "czar", etc. Yet another is the...um...relentlessly thorough bit by Gallagher talking about the difficulties a kid has learning to read, but you can watch that one without me. I think the routine is, like, six and a half hours long, so... you know... enjoy. 

Did you know that, in ancient times, our species had neither the heightened science nor the sufficient leisure time to develop their weird customs into a true society?  Did you also know that previous sentence violates the "I before E" rule ten times? It would have been more, but I couldn't figure out how to shoehorn "eigenvalues" or "Keith" into there.  Anyway, Wikipedia has a fairly comprehensive list of rule violations. 

I try to be aware of these problems ahead of time and keep it very simple like in the chalkboard you see above.  Most of the time I do okay but recently, without thinking it through, I started one of our lessons by trying to get him to spell the words for numbers.  Of course we started with the word "one" and, of course, he started to sound it out: "w..." 

I said "No, no, no... Not 'W'.. 'One' starts with 'O', not 'W'. Well, 'won... w-o-n, like after you win something, does, but not the number 'one'.  You know, forget that for now. Let's try 'two' ... No, wait, that does have a 'w' but it's silent, plus you have the whole 'to' and 'too' thing thrown in there.  Hmmm, 'three' is a little long, 'four' has the same problem as 'two', 'five' has that silent 'e' thing... Hey, you wanna go ride your bike instead?"

"Yes!" he responded.

"Yeah, me too.  Get your helmet and let's go. We'll pick this up again later."

Radio Silence

Kssshhhhh... Kssshhhh... Hello?... Can you hear me?  Kssshhhh... Is anyone still out there? Ksshhh... I... I... don’t have much time.  This communication channel is very unstable so I will be brief.

My lack of posting recently is not because there is nothing to write about.  In fact, nothing could be further from the truth.  I have many articles in the queue but without time to put what little polish on them I typically do, half-finished in the queue they will stay. 

Among other things we are in the process of moving.   It is an exciting time filled with barely controlled chaos that will hopefully have its happy conclusion late next month.  Between now and then, though, I will have less and less time to, say, regale you with a twelve-page post on how disappointing store-bought edamame is, and more time to, say, doing pretty much the opposite of that.

I will say one thing on the moving front, though.  I have taken a contract out on myself.  

You read that right. 

Both GeneSplicer and Jimmydunes have been informed that if I am ever to utter the phrase “Honey, have you seen my croquet hat?” in a non-ironic way they are to kill me by whatever means they see fit. They would be doing both me and my son a kindness.  Fortunately, the extremely slim but nevertheless non-zero chance that I would have ever spoken these words has evaporated, so one less thing to worry about there.  There are other trigger-phrases that will put the contract into effect as well, but we are still hashing out the details on those.

Ksshhh... Uh-oh.  Kssh... Time to go... Kssh... I have just enough time to post this and the article after it... Ksshhh.... See, I have to go and help a church group make an underwater scene out of plyboard and swimming pool “noodles” for their Vacation Bible School...  Ksshh... Oh, crap... I hope they don’t think that is one of the trigger-phrases... Kshhhhh.... ABORT THE HIT... I REPEAT, ABORT THE Kssshhhhh....