I have been tasked with digitizing the families old VHS tapes. I should say I had been tasked with... a decade ago. Many of the tapes had suffered mold growth after a decade of basement storage some have the tape severed with both ends recoiling into their safe little spools visible only through the plastic windows-- dusted with white fluffy mold. I have in the past decade made forays into the task, often hitting a minor speed bump and putting the tapes back into their plastic and cardboard box exiles; I prefer them out of sight (so they can't remind me of their desire to be free or my feelings of shame for not having it done yet). This last run was much more successful. I researched and actually performed the tape (opening, cleaning, winding by hand, cleaning, winding again by hand) de-molding process. I even researched the splicing back together severed and crunched up tape.

Another hurdle is to actually put the now hours and hours of tape I have digitized together and spitting it back out of my trash-picked computer in a viewable format. The problem is, that I see a possible greatness in the careful editing of my, and my siblings past, a history. My problem is the delay this causes in just spitting it back out onto a dvd in its current form. It's only a -lipstick on a pig, "fourth grade play" level of editing required. However, perfect is the only way I can justify the years and years it has taken me to complete this task. And perfect will take me years and years more. And I'm pretty sure Perfect doesn't even exist. My family cares about seeing themselves and their family members at a younger age, seeing the fashion, speech, and video quality of the day more than a carefully curated, edited, color corrected opus that will never see the light of the day.

My hope is that I can send out little teaser quicktimes here and there to distract anyone from wanting the whole thing, or knowing there even is a whole thing. Actually, they have no reason to know that I have made any moves on this project, I could just keep my mouth shut and wait until the digital format it is currently in starts to threaten its own death by disintegration. All things return to chaos and perfection is the enemy of done.

Anyway, here's one for your viewing pleasure.

(I'm not sure, but I think it might say something about me that I chose the segment of video that has my brother dressed as a clown. I don't know what it says, but it must say something, right?)

Resistance is Futile

Attempting positive change is Futile.

My cousin Felix, 14, is trying to whip me into shape. Not any particular shape, an approximation of a fleshy rhombus that can complete a single push up would do. He's one of those classically attractive blonde youths who seem to have a supernatural skill when attempting feats of strength and recklessness. I am frequently in awe of his abilities, but not so much that I would take a bet against them. I've cleaned his room one too many times.

I broke my leg three years ago and am loathe to admit that I am still not fully recovered, and even more so that it is entirely my fault. I did not follow through on my Physical therapy exercises. I did not even maintain a simple exercise regimen. I have refused to even walk certain distances (anything longer than very, very, short) I used my wonky leg as an excuse and my wonky leg remained wonky because the only way to de-wonk a wonky leg is to strengthen it. And the only way to do that is to use it.

I can see Felix outside the window from where I sit writing. He is talking to the neighbors who also take part in his workouts. I frantically began cycling through the many many excuses I have been working on all day. My favorite is the tea tree oil burn from my recent bath. Which is sadly a true story.

Here he comes

crap.