About once a month I look at everything I’ve accomplished, and compare that with everything that I want to accomplish, which inevitably leads to what I can never accomplish, and I get depressed. The frequency of this is relatively stable; what has changed over the years is the amplitude. It is taking me longer and longer to snap back to someone who is simultaneously cheerful and productive. Trying hard not to overstress the metaphor here, but I fear someday I will disappear into a feedback loop and the resulting shockwaves will shake me into a completely different person, one who doesn’t give two shits about all of this and will disappear into a completely useless hobby, like collecting pencils.

Oh, sorry — MORE useless than my existing hobbies.

What I cling to, what I defend to others who don’t understand dorking with old computers and demos and software and oldwarez and gaming, is that my existing hobbies are about creation and creativity. For example, I program old computers, but I am programming them to do things they have never done in their timeframe, and I release the source so that maybe one other person will gain an extra synapse from viewing it.

Three days after returning from Block Party 2008, I got video of the competitions and awards spread across three DVDs. I offered to edit them into separate files and upload them to archive.org. It has taken me nearly a month to do this in my various pockets of free time, not all of them spent wisely. During this time, I witnessed entire events blow by, such as Jason Scott knocking another one out of the park at ROFLCon. Or, more troubling, my looking at ROFLCon and simply not getting it.

The more I work at all this, the more I’m convinced that it wasn’t OOP that stumped me for three months, but rather the fact that I am really just not that good at what I would like to believe I’m good at.

I look around me and I see remnants of at least five different things I’d like to accomplish someday — soundcard museum, writing a real 8088/CGA demo, software collecting, selling excess hardware on ebay, making another MindCandy DVD — and the entire time I know that none of them will probably ever get done.

I need to release some ballast or I’m going to sink. I just don’t know what to let go of.

I’ll bet none of this is making sense to you.

I found this visiting at my parent’s house for my Dad’s 66th birthday and just had to share it. But first, some background, because otherwise the picture has no meaning.

During my senior year at New Trier High School, our concert choir won a state-wide competition and, along with our “audition tape” singing Handel’s Messiah, we were picked to sing at Carnegie Hall for a 1989 concert. (The conductor and composer was John Rutter; I forget the piece at the moment.) Although the township that New Trier serviced was quite wealthy, it was still a very expensive trip for the entire choir to go to New York, so a series of money-making activities were tossed around to see what we could come up with. Eventually the most feasible ones (ie. the ones that would bring in the most money) were putting together a small group for holiday-performances-for-rent, and a headshot cattle call at a Chicago agency to see if any of us could get some work. The small group idea gelled into a group of six to perform at a holiday party at the Swift mansion — you know, the makers of the sausage — and the cattle call produced a single “hit”: A photo shoot for McDonald’s.

I was lucky enough to hit both of these.

The Swift mansion story is not the focus of this post, but it’s short and sweet so I’ll simply say this: A bass, baritone, tenor, contralto, mezzo-soprano, and soprano all packed into two cars to drive to Lake Forest, IL. Along the way, one of the cars breaks down and we all pack into the other car (a ford escort!) so as to meet our engagement. To all fit into the car, I sat on the lap of a girl in the back seat, and was ignorant enough to not offer her the seat position, and too naive to use my position to hit on her.  (In my defense, she was the one who requested the seating arrangement, probably because she was uncomfortable with the thought of sitting on a boy she didn’t know.)  Once there, we found that the entrance hall had to be at least 2000 square feet and we wondered what we had gotten ourselves into. We went directly to the performance room/hall/whatever-you-call-another-2000-square-foot-room, met our pianist, and proceeded to sing about 2 hours’ worth of classical holiday song, including the Hallelujah Chorus from the Messiah. It lost a bit of… depth with only six people singing it, but I didn’t crack my high note and overall the entire room seemed to like it. After our performances we immediately packed back into the car and headed home. I saw only those two adjacent halls but I’ll never forget them. I guess sausage brings in a lot of dough.

So. Let’s talk about my McDonald’s photo shoot.

There was (and probably still is) a McDonald’s regional headquarters office building in Illinois, and on the day of the shoot I was to be there at 7:30am. When my mother dropped me off, I was surprised to see that there were a lot of other models already in McDonald’s uniform, hair, and makeup; also surprising was that shooting had already been going on for at least an hour. I was directed to a hair and makeup lady, and she did something to my face and, for “hair” put a McDonald’s cap on me. I was then to wait in the larger waiting area with the others until they called me.

While I waited, I listened to the other talents’ conversations. I was too shy to introduce myself, and I also felt sheepish that I was a complete and total amateur, so I just eavesdropped. The crowd seemed to fit into two camps: Career models (who brought their portfolio with them, which I found odd because they had already landed the job) and people who did modeling part-time for extra cash. One elderly gentleman (whom you’ll see below) mentioned he started taking these jobs after he retired, to supplement his fixed income. After two hours, I worked up the courage to ask a girl if I could see her portfolio; I was surprised to see that it was mostly boring things like catalogs and Sunday-paper-insert stuff. Such is the life of a working model, I guess. One of the older women in her mid-40’s (whom you’ll also see in the photo below) had a small part in a movie where she played a peasant who plants a bomb in a church or something. She was the only one who had movie experience, so she had a tiny entourage of people asking how she got the work.

After three hours, I started to wonder if they didn’t need me, if I would still get money for the trip, etc. when they finally called me over. “We’re heading to the photo shoot.” I started to head for the outside door, thinking that we would be transported to a set, or a McDonald’s that was empty for the day. “No, it’s over here.” She was pointing to the elevator.

I rode the elevator down to the first floor, where the doors opened to a 100% faithful reproduction of a McDonald’s. This literally could have been any McDonald’s anywhere, with the requisite fiberglass tables and chairs connected to the wall and each other, cash registers, griddle, fry station, etc. It even had all of the backroom stuff, such as a dishwasher for trays and a tiny office for a fictional manager. What it did not have was a ton of dirt, grease, grime, angry customers, screaming kids, deep fryer alarms, and an overall sense of gluttony and despair. It was the McDonald’s from AnyTown, USA, and it was suitable for framing.

I spent the late morning doing my best to look like I was paling around with a guy in his mid-twenties in the same employee getup as me. We did our shtick in front of the dishwasher, arms around each other, at one point me picking him up. I guess the goal was to make working at McDonald’s look like great chummy fun, but all I could think about at the time was how to smile without my braces showing. I was also quite unnerved that I had to share personal space with a guy I had just met, and further unnerved by the fact that the photographer coordinating the shoot was obviously not happy with my performance for some reason.

We broke for lunch, and you get one guess who catered our lunch and what it was. I remember eating very slowly and carefully, to make sure I didn’t screw up my makeup. The makeup lady had only worked on me for 30 seconds, but whatever she did, I didn’t want to screw it up.

After lunch, I sat and waited for another three hours, and contemplated other mundane questions: Would I still get paid if my photos weren’t used in the ad campaign? (answer: yes) Would I get to keep any of this money? (answer: no) Will I get a copy of the photos after the shoot? (answer: no) I was trying to obsess with as little motion as possible when I was called back to the AnyTown set for the final shoot of the day. The goal was also to make working at McDonald’s as cheery as possible, but this time it was directly behind the counter and it was a mixture of five AnyTown denizens:

1. An elderly white male
2. An elderly black female
3. A middle-age latina woman
4. A young adult white female
5. A teen white male

The photographer had an interesting way of getting the right performance out of us: He wanted us to take positions from various places behind the counter, and then, on the count of three, run toward each other and collide on our mark. I’m serious: We were to appear in-frame in a split second, usually with a positive “Hey!” or affirmative “Alright!”. This went on for at least half an hour, with the photographer getting frustrated because things weren’t “clicking”. I was beginning to wonder when the elderly models were going to break a hip when, in a fit of frustration, the photographer told me smile wider dammit because the reason I had been picked from the cattle call was because I had a perfect row of braces on both teeth.

They wanted to see my braces? Would’ve been nice to tell me that when I started so I didn’t have to try to hide them the entire shoot! With that limitation lifted, I relaxed a bit, which everyone else picked up on, which made them relax a bit, and the photographer got the shot he wanted.

I never heard from the agency again, although I saw a statement of the money I had made for the school. I believe it was $1500, which to this day still seems like a misprint for so little work on my part. 18 months later, back from college on a break, I was greeted by my own face walking into the local McDonald’s, staring back at me from a pad of employment application forms.

Click and enjoy:

_MG_5915, originally uploaded by tweakt.

This is what MONOTONE looks like when its author is trying to show it off by holding a mike to the speaker output.

Video to follow.

I’m back on the tubes.  My ISP silently sent a van to check something out at some other part of the block and my connection magically came back.  Gee, wonder where the trouble was…

We are machines. Biological in nature — chemical, actually — but all the same are we: Machines. And machines have quirks, and design flaws, and patterned behavior.

I can only assume that my Serotonin valves get stuck from time to time, because for the last few days I’ve been slowly getting back up on the horse. Well… a different horse. I’m doing stuff; just not the stuff I’m “supposed” to be doing. In the last few days, I have accomplished the following:

• Built new machine for Max out of spare parts, connected it to the Internet (scary for a 7-yr-old (and his parents!), but he wanted it), made it stream TV shows from the ReplayTV unit wirelessly through two floors
• Cut the back lawn, which had grass a foot high (not exaggerating). Hopefully my crazy neighbor will stop calling the police now.
• Returned the email of a few old friends — they had emailed me in 2004 (!!!!) and I only NOW returned the mail, but hey, I always answer my email. Eventually.
• Figured out a new way to get more performance out of the 8088 Corruption player and started work on the first phase of implementing it (hint: A/V chunks now need to be sector-aligned). Also brainstormed SpeakerTracker implementation ideas.
• Cleaned up the DVD-quality version of the MobyGames Classic Gaming Expo 2004 retrospective video and made it available online
• Submitted a backlog of about 150 cover scans to MobyGames that I had scanned in 2005 but never edited/uploaded
• Backed up my 180GB network share to six DLT tapes. Last backup was… 2002? (Thank you, RAID-5!)

Not too shabby, I guess. None of it is probably what I’m “supposed” to be working on, but progress is progress. The hardest obstacle of all is when you realize your main issue (lack of direction, aimlessness, a smidgen of depression, etc.) is completely without merit compared to the real, legitimate problems that others have — death, poverty, etc. — and that realization makes you feel bad about yourself, feeding the causality loop. Argh!

Chemical machines have another nice habit: They try to fix other chemical machines when they’re in need of repair. Honest thanks to everyone who wrote me, blogosphere or otherwise, with a kind word or helpful suggestion. I read them all, and they did help.

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we’re curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths. — Walt Disney

Keep moving forward.

I used to think that people fade out of their various scenes due to external influences — family, work, etc. I certainly used to feel that way, possibly as an excuse as to what was happening to me and trying to find a reason to blame. While I get the feeling that’s the majority, I can’t hold onto it any longer as a reason for my slow slip away. I just feel overwhelmed by it all — it’s happened before (mobygames, mindcandy) and it’s happening again, even with my small projects that benefit only myself.

When Brian and I started MobyGames nearly ten years ago, it was my life, my passion. I spent at least two years of my life on it, to the detriment of my marriage and relationship with my kids (something that has been rebuilt, but took years and was never quite the same). While there was a bit of a business shake-up internal to the organization, the core foundation of MobyGames is still there; it remains true to our vision and it is useful, self-sustaining, and well-known. I should be working on it every day… or every weekend, right? Or at least once a month? Check the boards once in a while? You would think that… and you’d be wrong. I love MobyGames with my intellectual mind, but can’t find it in my heart to work on it as you would think befitting of a founder.

My good friend Jason Scott created a demoparty using his bare hands and had a .990 batting average doing it. Everything was hit out of the park. I gave a talk, I learned I had a groupie or two, I met up with Phoenix and Necros and IC and The Finn and many others and had the time of my life. I should be working on a demo for next year’s incarnation… or at least watching new ones… something. I’m not. I hooked the XT back up, tested it, and then powered it off for going on 8 weeks now.

I have a ton of hardware and software I could sell for money. (Goodness knows we need it.) I have many videotapes that I should clean up, edit, and archive to DVD. I have 40+ sound cards that I would love to document on a new website to function as some sort of virtual soundcard museum. I have years of family videotape and film I should be editing and archiving. I have hundreds of retail games still not documented in MobyGames. I’m not doing any of these things. I spend my nights catching up on my Netflix queue or watching television after the wife and kids are in bed.

I feel lost.

So I’m halfway through the 24-hour MTV disappointment, and while there are a lot of artists with two, maybe three videos, there are two artists with no less than six different videos already:

• Rod Stewart
• The Pretenders

After so much heavy airplay, I think it’s interesting that the music of The Pretenders holds up very well after 25 years, sounding almost timeless. The music of Rod Stewart, on the other hand, instills violent behavior in small mammals.