Music has been a huge part of my life. It may not have been around my entire 24 (almost) years of existence, but it has been a very influential part nonetheless. I wasn't raised in a musical household. I was never forced to learn a musical instrument. Every musical path I've chosen in life has been the result of me choosing it for myself.
My Mom played harmonica in college, and occasionally played piano maybe once a week in our house in Waynesboro, VA, but growing up in that home didn't really immerse me in an environment that acted as a catalyst to my search for musical knowledge. And when I would visit my Dad, he would play Zeppelin, Police, Genesis, DMB, Shawn Colvin, and Dire Straits on his stereo and ask me questions like, "What song is this?" or "Who plays this?" My Dad never played a musical instrument, so that atmosphere was more of a "Rock Appreciation 101" of the most basic variety. I learned who played what songs, and I enjoyed them, but again, it never really fueled my passion for wanting to learn to play.
But it may have been the combination of both worlds that led me to pursue a musical passion. I started learning to play music in 6th grade, but didn't really appreciate it until I was about 16. I started actually listening to the music, picking up on nuances, and really feeling the grooves. I guess that would mark the beginning of my enlightenment towards music. I got the feel for rock and jam bands from my friends, punk (true punk, not that emo-whiny shit) from my brother, classic rock from my Dad, '70s funk and dance from my Mom, and hip-hop from the omnipresent media.
College came, exposing me to new artists and even more appreciation of the artful endeavor. Tons of alternative, ska, smart rap, experimental, folk, screamo, and of course the over generalized "indie." And since I was a freshman, music has been constantly influencing me, even out here in the real world. I support those poor, starving, local artists whenever I can, I love going to see bands I've never seen or heard before, and I've got tons of friends here in the local music scene. And up until last week, I was a regular part of it myself.
If you're a friend of mine, or maybe just an acquaintance, you no doubt know that my band, The Long Drive, will be ending shortly. I won't go into the reasons why here (you can find that information here), but it nevertheless was a devastating blow to my person, ego, passion, lifestyle and career. I no lie almost burst into tears on my drive back from the practice where we came to terms with our fate as a band. However, a portion of me is...well...relieved.
Over the past few months, I have started to realize that maybe our band wasn't meant to be forever. I loved playing music, as did we all, and we loved writing and performing for our friends, but I started to question whether we belonged in this scene or not, and by "scene" I mean the Triangle. I love being different, but it may have been possible that we were so different, that bands never really looked to us to provide support. I mean, sure we would book a headlining gig, and have great bands play with us, and the show would go great, but I started to see a shift away from us by the local musicians. Not a personal thing, just maybe the way things were meant to be. Our sound didn't really fit with a particular local band, and it's good to have those so a similar sounding show can be put together. We played with really intense borderline screamo bands, heavy Christian rock groups, indie pop trios, folk musicians, powerful melodious artists, and everything in between but we never really found another band that was like us. We could be so powerful then be so light-hearted. We could bring the blues, then switch it around for a poppy dance number. I think we were just too different, and it's possible people maybe just grew tired of us. We played with some great acts, made amazing friends, but perhaps the success of our friends and the decline of The Long Drive is merely how the Universe has it planned for us.
I'm not done with music by any means. I play with my friend, Phil, when he needs a drummer for his folk act. I also still hang out with Marc and CJ and Kristin from The Long Drive. But maybe music will be a passion for me and nothing else. I've accepted it's time to focus on other things, i.e. my career, writing, looking to move beyond the realm of the Triangle to who-knows-where, but all of that is of course up in the air, as with everything else in life.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
"Bryan" - a short story
This is a place usually reserved for my thoughts and feelings, but today I'm doing something different. The following is a short story I started last summer, and today I believe I made my final revisions. Not sure if this means anything for my career or not, but I would like to share it with you all because I'm actually quite proud of it. I hope you enjoy "Bryan."
“Hello?”
There is no answer over the telephone.
“Hello!?”
Bryan slings his phone across the room, sending it careening into a wall. The phone falls to the floor after leaving a sizeable imprint in the drywall.
“Of course there’s no answer,” says a frustrated Bryan. This was the fifth time in what felt like two hours that Bryan’s phone had rung with no response from the other line. Bryan was becoming very anxious and annoyed. His current circumstances weren’t helping the situation either.
Bryan Lord regained consciousness a few minutes prior to the start of the phone calls to find himself lying shirtless on his stomach on a cool, hard concrete floor. Groggy, he sat up and rubbed the crick in his neck. As he massaged his aches, Bryan took in his surroundings.
Bryan was encompassed by five white walls, each with paint peeling and fading in spots. The room was not incredibly spacious, but certainly not small enough to agitate his claustrophobia. A single light emanated from above him in the direct center of the ceiling that enveloped the room in a soft white. Bryan looked up to see where the light was coming from, but the light itself was so bright he had to avert his eyes. He then noticed something beyond odd.
There were no windows or doors in the room.
Bryan paces around the room, knocking on the walls, and looking around for how he got in. He picks up his phone and stares at it. Surprisingly, the phone is not damaged. He then looks at the dent in the wall. Bryan slides the phone back in his denim pocket, and turns around towards the center of the room.
A white chair now sits in the middle of the white room. Bryan stands still, staring at the chair.
“What the hell?” he says, confused. He looks around the room, wondering how the chair and he got in the room.
Bryan walks over to the chair and inspects it. The seat consists of white plastic molded into an L shape, which is fixed atop a pair of bent metal legs. Kneeing down, he runs his hands along the floor where the chair sits. There are no cracks in the concrete or any other indication of some type of trap door.
Standing, Bryan takes a few steps back and circles the chair, like a shark circles a diver, deciding whether his prey would taste delicious or like a mouthful of wetsuit. Very plasticy wetsuit.
“Where’d you come from?” Bryan interrogates the chair. The chair does not respond.
“Jesus Christ, I’m talking to a chair,” Bryan chuckles at himself. He pulls out his phone and lights the screen up. The digital display reads 12:00am. He slides the phone back in his pocket and leans against one of the walls facing the front of the chair. Bryan lets out a heavy sigh and slides down to the floor. He continues to stare at the chair.
The phone rings. Bryan quickly squirms to reach into his pocket and pulls out the phone. He looks at the phone to see who is calling; no caller ID. He presses the “send” button and answers anxiously.
“Hello?”
Again, no answer.
“Hello!? Answer me, God damnit! Who are you?” yells Bryan. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, he throws the phone across the room yet again. He buries his face in his hands, letting out a long downtrodden breath.
“You know, throwing the phone won’t make whoever’s on the other end of the line respond any quicker,” says a very articulate voice.
Bryan jerks his head up, startled. He looks around the room for whoever spoke.
“Hey!” declares Bryan to the room as he stands up, “I heard you!” He turns around in circles, searching for anyone. Thinking maybe he’s being watched from someplace else, he looks up, but the light is still too bright. He winces and shields his eyes. Bryan lashes out with a yell and kicks the chair, sending it tumbling across the room. He collapses to the floor, covering his eyes, “God damnit!”
“Ahem,” the voice coughs. Bryan parts his fingers and peeps through his hands. He looks around but still sees no one.
“Would you mind terribly turning me right-ways up?”
Bryan slowly turns his head towards the chair. He cocks his head and stares in disbelief. He scurries along the floor, further away from the chair.
“Really? You’re scared of me? Seems rather silly,” says the chair. Bryan stares, bewildered. He doesn’t know what to think. He’s seen some strange things in his life, but a chair talking to him was something he couldn’t possibly believe.
“You’re…talking,” counters Bryan.
“Irrelevant. Could you please just place me upright?” the chair asks politely. Bryan slowly gets to his feet and walks cautiously towards the overturned chair. He extends his hand towards the chair timidly, as if expecting an electric shock. He places his hand on the chair briefly, then pulls away.
“I know this is not the most normal of scenarios you have been in before, but if you sit me up, it would be much appreciated,” says the chair, reassuringly. Still hesitant, Bryan grabs the chair and places it upright on its legs. Resuming his frustrated and confused manner, he backs away and sits down against the wall.
“I understand if you don’t want to say anything for a while. Talking chairs are certainly a rarity,” says the chair. Bryan stares down at the floor between his feet, which are bare.
“Where are my shoes?” Bryan asks the chair.
The chair pauses before speaking, “Hmm…surprising.”
“What?”
“Surprising.”
“What is?”
The char responds, “You’re stuck inside an all-white, pentagonal room with no doors or windows, a blinding light overhead, and a talking chair. It’s surprising that your first question concerns the location of your shoes.”
Bryan looks up at the chair. His frustration is starting to tire him.
“I – I,” stutters Bryan, “I’ve got a lot running through my head right now.”
“Understandable,” consoles the chair, “Well if you wish to talk, I’m not going anywhere.” The chair chuckles slightly.
“I shouldn’t be talking to you,” Bryan says, turning away.
“I know,” says the chair, “because talking chairs don’t exist.”
“I have to focus. Get my head back on straight and think about this.”
“Splendid idea.”
“Okay, here’s what I remember,” says Bryan to himself as he stands. He begins to pace back and forth, collecting his thoughts. “My name is Bryan Lord. I am 30…five. I’m 35. I was…somewhere…somewhere dark.”
“Sounds about right,” interjected the chair. Bryan shoots the chair a cold glare, hoping it ceases interrupting. He then resumes his monologue.
“It was dark and…dirty?” questions Bryan, continuing to pace. “Yes. It was dirty. I remember I had shoes on. I was…sitting. Sitting on a bed.”
“You’re making me quite nervous,” adds the chair. “Would you mind not walking about so much? Sit down. Relax.”
“I was waiting for something,” Bryan says, ignoring the chair. “Someone?”
From across the room, the phone rings. Bryan stops midstride and looks over his shoulder towards the phone. It rings again.
“Are you going to answer that?” inquires the chair. “It’s probably for you.”
Ignoring the ringing, Bryan keeps pacing and talking to himself, “I was waiting. What was I waiting for?” The phone rings again. “I don’t remember feeling anything. Maybe I was going somewhere.” Bryan looks around the room, “Here?”
The phone rings again.
“If you won’t answer that for you, could you at least answer it for me so it will stop ringing?” beckons the chair.
“But where are my shoes?” continues Bryan, “I wouldn’t just go somewhere without shoes on. And how did I get here? I don’t remember anything about that.”
The phone rings again.
“Would you please answer the phone!?” pleads the chair.
“Where are the doors?”
Ring.
“Answer the phone!”
“Why is that light so bright?”
Ring.
“Please!”
“How is any air getting in?”
Ring.
“Pick up the phone!”
“Why?”
Ring.
“Just do it!”
“You’re a fucking talking chair! This isn’t real!”
Ring.
“The phone!”
Bryan yells, leaps towards the phone and picks it up.
“What!?” screams Bryan into the phone.
No answer.
“God damnit!” Bryan yells and throws the phone down and stomps on it, breaking it into pieces. “Why does this phone keep ringing!? What the hell is going on? Where am I? Why does this chair talk?”
With that, Bryan grabs the chair to throw it across the room, but the chair doesn’t budge. Bryan struggles to try and pick up the chair, but it still doesn’t move an inch. Bryan tries a third time, sweat dripping off his forehead, teeth clenched, straining his body, but can’t pick up the chair. With a yell of frightened frustration and confusion, Bryan kicks the immovable chair with all his might. He then falls to the ground, yelping in pain.
“Yelling doesn’t fix anything,” the chair comments.
Bryan forces back tears of helplessness as he holds his foot in agony, “Then why did you yell for me to answer the phone!?”
“I was not yelling,” corrects the chair. “I was merely sternly requesting. No sense in getting bent out of shape over this whole thing. I don’t believe there are any secret passageways or trapdoors lying about.”
Through teary eyes, Bryan looks up at the chair. The chair is now different than before. It is now tall, bulky, made entirely of wood and bolted to the floor. Bryan sits up and stares, bewildered.
“What,” Bryan begins, still choked up, “is happening?”
Bryan looks around the room and becomes more shocked. There are now only four walls to the room, and on one of these walls is a large glass window.
“A window!” exclaims Bryan. He runs over to the window and bangs on the glass. “Hey! Let me out!” There is nothing beyond the glass but whiteness. Bryan looks along the edges of the window for a way to open it, but his wishes are soon dashed. He pounds his fists harder against the impervious glass in anger.
“That’s a good color on you,” compliments the chair.
Bryan stops banging on the glass and notices his sleeves. He is wearing a light blue denim shirt. He steps back from the window and starts patting all over his chest, arms, and sides. He frantically unbuttons the shirt and throws it on the ground. He turns to the chair.
“Where the hell did that come from?” Bryan asks, pointing to the bundled up shirt.
“Why are you so upset, now?” politely asks the chair. “I would imagine you’ve had time to accept this.”
“Accept what?” wonders an irate Bryan. “I don’t even know where I am, how I got here, or – I – I just don’t know anything.” Bryan picks up the crumpled denim shirt, inspecting it. A series of numbers is printed above the chest pocket. Bryan scratches at the numbers with his grimy fingernails. He notices his dirty hands and drops the shirt in surprising disgust.
“Alright,” says Bryan, “why are my hands so gross?” He holds his hands out, turning them over. Bryan starts to notice more changes occurring inside the room. A single blue door is now in the wall to the right of the chair. Bryan drops the shirt and runs towards the door. He grabs the knob and tries to yank it open, but the door doesn’t budge. He tries harder and harder, shaking the door with a furious rage. Bryan kicks the door and yells up to the ceiling, to a certain entity in question.
“Get me out of here!” Looking up at the ceiling, Bryan notices the light is not so bring anymore. He can now see two flickering fluorescent bulbs and hear the soft, mechanical hum of the struggling lights. Bryan calms down slightly and scans the room for more changes.
The walls are now a drab green, and three rows of five chairs are positioned on the other side of the large window. Bryan cautiously walks over to the glass and peers into the other room. He sees an open doorway to the left of the chairs. He strains to see beyond the doorframe, but is unable to due to the impenetrable blackness seeming to solidify the frame’s space. Bryan finally turns around to face the chair.
“You do look rather tired,” observes the chair. “Why don’t you come and sit down over here?” Too exhausted to refute any more the fact that a talking chair exists, Bryan lumbers over to the chair, and collapses into its wooden arms. He lets out a sigh of relief.
“Comfortable?” asks the chair.
“Surprisingly, yes,” replies Bryan.
“Good,” says the chair. Bryan closes his eyes to try and collect himself. His comfortable feelings evolve into a strange sense of acceptance. He’s not quite sure what he’s accepting, but he feels questioning and fighting any further is futile. Bryan’s been through so much that sitting in this chair, for some reason, feels like the right thing to do.
Bryan lets out a heavy sigh and relaxes. He finds strange solace in the large wooden chair. Almost as if he’s been waiting to sit down in this very chair for years.
“You know, “ the chair speaks, “you didn’t have to be here.”
“I suppose so,” replies Bryan, “but someone had to, might as well be me.”
“Everything will work out. I promise,” reassures the chair. Bryan isn’t sure what the chair is implying, but he is so relaxed, he doesn’t find it necessary to seek any further answers from his inanimate confidant.
Bryan feels a slight tightening around his wrists and ankles, but he is so unconcerned with his surroundings now, that he doesn’t bother to open his eyes or even flinch. He then feels something tighten around his forehead, and still, he remains motionless.
“Hit the first switch.”
Bryan hears a low hum and opens his eyes slowly. There are rows of people sitting on the other side of the glass now. Most of them stare at him in disgust, however a select few peer through salty tears welling up in their eyes. Bryan recognizes all of them. One woman, in particular, covers her face with a handkerchief to hide her sadness when she’s not looking into his eyes with the purest love. Bryan smiles at her as a single tear rolls down his cheek. She mouths the words Bryan had heard so many times before; “I love you.”
Bryan sees a man in uniform standing to the right of the window, in the room with him. His hands are crossed at his belt buckle as he looks at Bryan with a statue’s gaze. Bryan also recognizes him, but their connection is strictly professional. He closes his eyes, and nods to the man in uniform.
“Bryan Matthew Lord,” the man addresses,” do you have anything left to say?”
Bryan smiles and opens his eyes, looking into the room of spectators. His voice is calm, collected, and peaceful.
“I’m sorry for what has happened,” says Bryan. “I wish things would have turned out differently. I will see them soon. I will tell them you miss them.”
An angry couple stands up behind the glass and begins yelling at Bryan, but their voices fall silent, leaving Bryan with only an image of hate. The couple then begins to cry and fall back down in their seats. Comforters sitting behind them offer a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder as the couple leans on one another, sobbing. The loving woman in the room stands up and smiles at Bryan. Bryan smiles back and shares one last embracing look.
“Bryan Matthew Lord,” the man, an officer, speaks up, “you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers for the murder of Frank, Mary, and Bella Bookman. You have been sentenced to death by electrocution. Your sentence will now be carried out. May God have mercy on your soul.”
Bryan closes his eyes for the last time, waiting for the inevitable with patience and acceptance. He thought someone had to pay for what happened to his friends and their daughter. He just never imagined it would be him who would pay the ultimate price. Bryan missed them dearly, and couldn’t imagine what their parents, and Bella’s grandparents, were going through, other than the obvious anger they expressed towards him. The love of his life would soon find out the pain of losing someone she admired, adored, respected, and longed for. Bryan says a silent prayer to a God he isn’t sure exists, and says good-bye to the life he loved so much before his friends were murdered. It is time for the end.
The phone rings…
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Pop-up books were more 3D than Avatar.
Lately, my days have been up and down. I'm sure this is nothing unfamiliar to you. We all go through phases of good times and bad. It's just the balancing of the Universe. Someone can't experience so much negativity without some positive relief.
We deal with these darker times in different ways. Now, I don't have any scholarly studies or reports in my back pocket from which I can spout off a random supporting fact for my thesis, but I believe this inhabits the realm of "common human knowledge." Some people sulk, others go for a run, a select few scream obscenities into a pillow.
I think the same thing. And honestly, I don't think I would even read my own posts if I didn't have a constant fear that I misworded something. But enough about the fact that very few people in this world have something important to say...
Dealing With Negativity
The negativity I'm referring to here is the negative energy and events that sometimes take up space in our world. Let's skip other examples of how I think others deal with it and move straight on to my comfort mechanisms...because, as we've established, I'm a tad narcissistic.
Being a storyteller from an early age and a person infatuated with tall tales, urban legends, classic ghost stories, and narrative in general, when I'm having a bad day, I immerse myself in stories. Television, film, written word; it all takes me away from my world and into another's imagined reality.
Now, I know some people prefer to engage in some sort of physical activity during times of frustration, but for me, preoccupying my body leaves my mind free to wander, and wandering is much harder to do when the only thing it seems to gravitate towards are the things troubling you the most. Thusly, I take my mind on a journey through works of fiction.
And I'll be honest, while it's not the most healthy of habits, I tend to lose myself in these beautiful creations of fictional imaginaridom.
I'm not that different from the over-weight, Cheeto-loving, 30-somethings that live in their mothers' basement and spend most of their free time willingly drowning in the seas of online role playing. I like the fictional world more than I like this one.
I'm not saying this physical world in which I live totally leaves me without will to live. I've got great friends, family, possessions...awesome, awesome possessions. I'm just showing how much relief and freedom I get from burying my face in a good book or engaging my mind in an intriguing and original television series. I may be addicted. But it's sure better than heroine...I'm assuming.
A healthy addiction that is helping me cope with the burdens that come with being poor, alone, and having a unisex first name. I learn lessons and relish in realizations in the fictional narrative world that aide me in my constant quest of discovery in this physical realm.
There's more than ten boatloads of negativity in this world, and we all need a way to deal with it. It's unhealthy to just pretend the bad stuff doesn't affect you because, let's face it, if you think you're too tough for the Universe in which you exist, you're an ass.
If you're curious in discovering the benefits of such an escape, here's a few pointers:
1.) Read a book
NOT a textbook. A novel. Dive into someone else's imagination, and use your own to interpret the world you glean from the writing. Believe it or not, your imagination didn't shrivel up die on your 13th birthday. It's still there. Create a world in your mind from a book. And if you need a little help, try a pop-up book. They're already in 3D.
2.) Actively watch television
I've used the phrase "actively watch" before, although I can't remember where I've said it. What I mean by "actively watch" is keeping your mind churning as you watch TV or a movie. Don't just stare blankly at the screen and expect what's being projected to mindlessly entertain you. Engage your mind. Use your heart to connect with the characters. And of course I'm talking about scripted television. Not reality shows. If you connect with Snooki, you're not doing yourself any favors.
I know it seems kind of pointless to have only two pointers, but hey, I'm tired. Just take these two, and call me in the morning...
Oh, and as an attempt to engage you because apparently just reading this isn't enough, what are some ways in which you relieve stress or escape the negative burdens in your life?
We deal with these darker times in different ways. Now, I don't have any scholarly studies or reports in my back pocket from which I can spout off a random supporting fact for my thesis, but I believe this inhabits the realm of "common human knowledge." Some people sulk, others go for a run, a select few scream obscenities into a pillow.
Pillow's don't care. They love you no matter what.Sharing my experiences with you has been all over the place thus far. Not one of my posts could say they would belong in the same subject matter as the other. I'm unique in that way, or rather, this weblog is unique. And, I know, when you see a link to this thing on Facebook or Twitter, you're thinking, "Gah, another example of the Internet being used to display nothing more than an individual's narcissism. Dude, nobody cares about your whining or how cute your puppies/kittens are!"
I think the same thing. And honestly, I don't think I would even read my own posts if I didn't have a constant fear that I misworded something. But enough about the fact that very few people in this world have something important to say...
Dealing With Negativity
The negativity I'm referring to here is the negative energy and events that sometimes take up space in our world. Let's skip other examples of how I think others deal with it and move straight on to my comfort mechanisms...because, as we've established, I'm a tad narcissistic.
Being a storyteller from an early age and a person infatuated with tall tales, urban legends, classic ghost stories, and narrative in general, when I'm having a bad day, I immerse myself in stories. Television, film, written word; it all takes me away from my world and into another's imagined reality.
Now, I know some people prefer to engage in some sort of physical activity during times of frustration, but for me, preoccupying my body leaves my mind free to wander, and wandering is much harder to do when the only thing it seems to gravitate towards are the things troubling you the most. Thusly, I take my mind on a journey through works of fiction.
And I'll be honest, while it's not the most healthy of habits, I tend to lose myself in these beautiful creations of fictional imaginaridom.
Don't Google that last word. I made it up.The characters I come across are easier to understand than real human beings, yet are always surprising me. They help me get in touch with my own self, and fuel my creative juices even more. By comparison, this physical world kinda blows.
I'm not that different from the over-weight, Cheeto-loving, 30-somethings that live in their mothers' basement and spend most of their free time willingly drowning in the seas of online role playing. I like the fictional world more than I like this one.
I'm not saying this physical world in which I live totally leaves me without will to live. I've got great friends, family, possessions...awesome, awesome possessions. I'm just showing how much relief and freedom I get from burying my face in a good book or engaging my mind in an intriguing and original television series. I may be addicted. But it's sure better than heroine...I'm assuming.
A healthy addiction that is helping me cope with the burdens that come with being poor, alone, and having a unisex first name. I learn lessons and relish in realizations in the fictional narrative world that aide me in my constant quest of discovery in this physical realm.
There's more than ten boatloads of negativity in this world, and we all need a way to deal with it. It's unhealthy to just pretend the bad stuff doesn't affect you because, let's face it, if you think you're too tough for the Universe in which you exist, you're an ass.
If you're curious in discovering the benefits of such an escape, here's a few pointers:
1.) Read a book
NOT a textbook. A novel. Dive into someone else's imagination, and use your own to interpret the world you glean from the writing. Believe it or not, your imagination didn't shrivel up die on your 13th birthday. It's still there. Create a world in your mind from a book. And if you need a little help, try a pop-up book. They're already in 3D.
2.) Actively watch television
I've used the phrase "actively watch" before, although I can't remember where I've said it. What I mean by "actively watch" is keeping your mind churning as you watch TV or a movie. Don't just stare blankly at the screen and expect what's being projected to mindlessly entertain you. Engage your mind. Use your heart to connect with the characters. And of course I'm talking about scripted television. Not reality shows. If you connect with Snooki, you're not doing yourself any favors.
I know it seems kind of pointless to have only two pointers, but hey, I'm tired. Just take these two, and call me in the morning...
Oh, and as an attempt to engage you because apparently just reading this isn't enough, what are some ways in which you relieve stress or escape the negative burdens in your life?
Monday, December 6, 2010
"Love is like a red, red rose. And I am a little thorny."
Over the past couple of weeks, I have had two recurring questions proposed to me; 1.) "What happened to your face?" and 2.) "So are you dating anyone?" Since I usually answer, "You should see the other guy," to the first question, let's move on to the second.
No.
Brief? Yes. But I'm not here to make a pity party out of my single status. I'm writing this because we all have been in this place, and it's just a part of us maturing and coming to understand who we are as people...but I bet some people just say that to convince themselves that they won't die alone and unloved...
I have other single friends. I also have friends that are married, dating, celibate, promiscuous, gay, straight, and sometimes like group activities. For the most part, they're pretty happy with their current relationship status, and I'm sure there are a few who could be happier, but regardless of their level of content, everyone is still slowly advancing in the stages of discovering one's self. Some people need to find a yin to realize that they are the yang, while some people need to go backpacking across Europe, and some people define themselves by their work and what they accomplish in life. These are just examples of ways people continue to develop an understanding of what they have to offer the Universe and themselves.
Let's be honest, you have friends that are married, and sometimes you find yourself thinking, "Married? Already? Well, I guess their lives are over." Of course when people get married, their lives change; I don't know if I would say they're "over" by any means, though. They've just found a different route on their way to discovering themselves. Like I inferred before, some individuals need to be a part of a whole to realize the role they play in the Universe. Like a cog that says, "What up? I'm a cog...what the fuck do I do?" can't find out that answer until its a part of something; "What up? I'm a cog. Yea, I make this clock work. What's it to you?" Our reactions of abhorrence towards our friends who get married is based partially on jealousy. It's a subconscious jealousy, but a jealousy nonetheless. We are secretly just mad that they may be further down the path of self discovery than we are. We should not be angry. It's entirely possible that we may have more to discover in life before we can define ourselves further with our love, and that could be because our destiny is more complex than those already partnered up in holy matrimony or civil union.
I'm not implying the existence of people who marry early in life is small, simple, and insignificant. No single human being has a small existence in this World. Every life affects every other life, which affects more lives, and so on and so forth. Even if I consider you a douchebag or a "spacewaster," I'm confident in the fact that at some point in your life you made an impression on somebody that was for the benefit of society. I'm simply stating we all have specific obstacles to overcome at specific and different points in our timeline that are organized randomly, at best. And with each obstacle tackled, we become more and more self-knowledgeable and get closer to the final realization that sums up our life.
I consider myself to currently be in a stage of laissez-fair existence. My goal isn't to be life's doormat or anything, but I do like to just let things happen, particularly, when it comes to a "love life." I think of myself as a somewhat ambitious person. I don't have the attitude of, "I'll slit anyone's throat who gets in the way of me and my dreams," but I do have drive and a passion for what I do. In the past, my romantic relationships have never come out of me looking for someone or hoping that the right girl would walk by me in the hallway. I've always become involved with someone just by chance. You can't really expect stuff like this to happen whenever you wish, but just know that moments will come where you'll meet someone who will become very special to you.
Okay. So about five hours have passed since I typed that last sentence. Now that I'm full of hoppy, malty goodness courtesy of the Flying Saucer, I'm ready to jot down some final thoughts. I am one of those people that is not actively searching for love. I feel my best bet at finding myself and discovering what I have to offer the rest of the World is to sail solo for a while until I find what the next step of my life is. I know some people that are so fixated on becoming a part of a couple and are constantly on the search for love, and pushing life like that is not the answer. Life is to be enjoyed, and if you spend too much time searching for something you want, you'll miss out on what life is giving you.
No.
Brief? Yes. But I'm not here to make a pity party out of my single status. I'm writing this because we all have been in this place, and it's just a part of us maturing and coming to understand who we are as people...but I bet some people just say that to convince themselves that they won't die alone and unloved...
I have other single friends. I also have friends that are married, dating, celibate, promiscuous, gay, straight, and sometimes like group activities. For the most part, they're pretty happy with their current relationship status, and I'm sure there are a few who could be happier, but regardless of their level of content, everyone is still slowly advancing in the stages of discovering one's self. Some people need to find a yin to realize that they are the yang, while some people need to go backpacking across Europe, and some people define themselves by their work and what they accomplish in life. These are just examples of ways people continue to develop an understanding of what they have to offer the Universe and themselves.
Let's be honest, you have friends that are married, and sometimes you find yourself thinking, "Married? Already? Well, I guess their lives are over." Of course when people get married, their lives change; I don't know if I would say they're "over" by any means, though. They've just found a different route on their way to discovering themselves. Like I inferred before, some individuals need to be a part of a whole to realize the role they play in the Universe. Like a cog that says, "What up? I'm a cog...what the fuck do I do?" can't find out that answer until its a part of something; "What up? I'm a cog. Yea, I make this clock work. What's it to you?" Our reactions of abhorrence towards our friends who get married is based partially on jealousy. It's a subconscious jealousy, but a jealousy nonetheless. We are secretly just mad that they may be further down the path of self discovery than we are. We should not be angry. It's entirely possible that we may have more to discover in life before we can define ourselves further with our love, and that could be because our destiny is more complex than those already partnered up in holy matrimony or civil union.
I'm not implying the existence of people who marry early in life is small, simple, and insignificant. No single human being has a small existence in this World. Every life affects every other life, which affects more lives, and so on and so forth. Even if I consider you a douchebag or a "spacewaster," I'm confident in the fact that at some point in your life you made an impression on somebody that was for the benefit of society. I'm simply stating we all have specific obstacles to overcome at specific and different points in our timeline that are organized randomly, at best. And with each obstacle tackled, we become more and more self-knowledgeable and get closer to the final realization that sums up our life.
I consider myself to currently be in a stage of laissez-fair existence. My goal isn't to be life's doormat or anything, but I do like to just let things happen, particularly, when it comes to a "love life." I think of myself as a somewhat ambitious person. I don't have the attitude of, "I'll slit anyone's throat who gets in the way of me and my dreams," but I do have drive and a passion for what I do. In the past, my romantic relationships have never come out of me looking for someone or hoping that the right girl would walk by me in the hallway. I've always become involved with someone just by chance. You can't really expect stuff like this to happen whenever you wish, but just know that moments will come where you'll meet someone who will become very special to you.
Okay. So about five hours have passed since I typed that last sentence. Now that I'm full of hoppy, malty goodness courtesy of the Flying Saucer, I'm ready to jot down some final thoughts. I am one of those people that is not actively searching for love. I feel my best bet at finding myself and discovering what I have to offer the rest of the World is to sail solo for a while until I find what the next step of my life is. I know some people that are so fixated on becoming a part of a couple and are constantly on the search for love, and pushing life like that is not the answer. Life is to be enjoyed, and if you spend too much time searching for something you want, you'll miss out on what life is giving you.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
A priest, a rabbi, and a Tibeten monk walk into a blog...
I really need to stop blogging at intervals of a month and a half. But whatever.
Lately, I have noticed a lot of people blogging or posting status updates or tweets or what-have-you about religion. Well, not necessarily religion, but Christianity to be specific. For those of you that know me, you know that I'm not a religious person by any means. Some of you may even put a label on me like "atheist" or "agnostic." But the truth is, I'm still searching for something bigger than myself to believe in.
I know people at both ends of the religious spectrum; those who are completely devout Christians who wear their beliefs on their sleeves and those people who deny the existence of God and think that people who believe in Him are complete idiots. Without passing too much judgment, I believe there's not a single person in this world who knows what the hell is going on with the Universe, our existence, and what lies beyond the timeline of our physical being. Don't get me wrong; I completely respect whatever belief you may have and your values because that's your right as a human being. But to completely shut off your mind to any school of thought other than your own is a little bigoted.
Here's a quick synopsis of what I do believe in; parallel universes, aliens, mind over matter, and the fact that ice cream will always be delicious. By just saying that last sentence, you probably already think I am crazy. But think about it; can you think of anything, anything at all, that disputes the existence of my beliefs? It's fine if you believe something different. In fact if everybody believed the same thing, our society would become really, really dumb from a lack of intellectual challenges. But if the only "reason" you can think of to call my beliefs bogus is "that's just silly," well you need to work on your debating skills, my friend. The fact that people will dispute someone else's beliefs only based on their own ignorance is not acceptable; discriminatory even.
I'm not a hating person, but there are certain types of people on this Earth that I can not stand. 1.) People who wear two polos with the collars popped, 2.) Dudes who drive lifted pick-ups with obnoxiously loud exhausts, and 3.) Individuals who push their beliefs upon other people. Now, I'm not stupid. I realize that if people didn't push their beliefs upon others, America would probably be a whole different country right now, if it even existed at all. You can post your Christian blog update on Facebook, or invite your friends to a Campus Crusade event, or even have some people over for a Hanukkah party, but to tell someone, "You're beliefs are wrong. You should believe in J.C. and His awesomeness," is ignorant, rude, and offensive.
Here's me dropping some knowledge: Religion and You.
Most Americans believe in their current religion because they had been exposed to said religion since their exodus from the vagina. More often than not, the religion you practice is the religion with which your parents brought you up. When you're that little, what is your thought process? "I love my toy firetruck/Barbie doll, and Mommy and Daddy, and ice cream, and cartoons, and my stuffed animals, and..." You love everything! Granted, I do still love my parents, ice cream, and my stuffed Sonic I got when I was 4, but the point I'm trying to make is, you can't discern what makes sense from what doesn't. You believe anything you're told. So if you're raised on a particular religion, chances are that you still believe it, taking into consideration how intense your upbringing was. Most people
don't really challenge themselves or their beliefs; they don't ask questions, and therefore do not get any wiser, and some people are fine with that, i.e. "ignorance is bliss."
When Europeans went to Africa, whether they snatched up people for slavery or just decided to colonize right then and there, we were told that they "taught the uneducated natives" about Jesus. And since only the winners write the history books, few people really know the other side of the "teaching." Just ask yourself, beyond the physical, how do you control a group of people into doing your bidding? You manipulate their beliefs; their mentality. Africans were forced by the Europeans into Christianity by threat of harm or death. When a person receives threats like the ones issued, you'll believe anything they tell you just make life a little easier, although I don't think it helped judging by all the shit that actually happened around that time. The primary reason African Americans believe in Christ is because that's the way they were brought up, and through the generations the fact that their ancestors were originally forced into believing it has lost is effect.
I'm not trying to belittle anyone's beliefs here. I'm merely trying to get you to take a good look at what you believe, and after really thinking about where your spirituality stands, if you still end up Christian, or Jewish, or Muslim, that's great. Do not invest in a faith just because the cool kids are doing it or you're too lazy to think for yourself because that's what leads to so much hatred and ignorance in this World.
And please, people, have a sense of humor about your beliefs. What does it matter if someone pokes fun at what you believe? If you still believe it, no harm is done. It's not like they're shattering your religion by making a little quip. Relax!
Okay that was my one digression. Have a nice day!
Lately, I have noticed a lot of people blogging or posting status updates or tweets or what-have-you about religion. Well, not necessarily religion, but Christianity to be specific. For those of you that know me, you know that I'm not a religious person by any means. Some of you may even put a label on me like "atheist" or "agnostic." But the truth is, I'm still searching for something bigger than myself to believe in.
I know people at both ends of the religious spectrum; those who are completely devout Christians who wear their beliefs on their sleeves and those people who deny the existence of God and think that people who believe in Him are complete idiots. Without passing too much judgment, I believe there's not a single person in this world who knows what the hell is going on with the Universe, our existence, and what lies beyond the timeline of our physical being. Don't get me wrong; I completely respect whatever belief you may have and your values because that's your right as a human being. But to completely shut off your mind to any school of thought other than your own is a little bigoted.
Here's a quick synopsis of what I do believe in; parallel universes, aliens, mind over matter, and the fact that ice cream will always be delicious. By just saying that last sentence, you probably already think I am crazy. But think about it; can you think of anything, anything at all, that disputes the existence of my beliefs? It's fine if you believe something different. In fact if everybody believed the same thing, our society would become really, really dumb from a lack of intellectual challenges. But if the only "reason" you can think of to call my beliefs bogus is "that's just silly," well you need to work on your debating skills, my friend. The fact that people will dispute someone else's beliefs only based on their own ignorance is not acceptable; discriminatory even.
I'm not a hating person, but there are certain types of people on this Earth that I can not stand. 1.) People who wear two polos with the collars popped, 2.) Dudes who drive lifted pick-ups with obnoxiously loud exhausts, and 3.) Individuals who push their beliefs upon other people. Now, I'm not stupid. I realize that if people didn't push their beliefs upon others, America would probably be a whole different country right now, if it even existed at all. You can post your Christian blog update on Facebook, or invite your friends to a Campus Crusade event, or even have some people over for a Hanukkah party, but to tell someone, "You're beliefs are wrong. You should believe in J.C. and His awesomeness," is ignorant, rude, and offensive.
Here's me dropping some knowledge: Religion and You.
Most Americans believe in their current religion because they had been exposed to said religion since their exodus from the vagina. More often than not, the religion you practice is the religion with which your parents brought you up. When you're that little, what is your thought process? "I love my toy firetruck/Barbie doll, and Mommy and Daddy, and ice cream, and cartoons, and my stuffed animals, and..." You love everything! Granted, I do still love my parents, ice cream, and my stuffed Sonic I got when I was 4, but the point I'm trying to make is, you can't discern what makes sense from what doesn't. You believe anything you're told. So if you're raised on a particular religion, chances are that you still believe it, taking into consideration how intense your upbringing was. Most people
don't really challenge themselves or their beliefs; they don't ask questions, and therefore do not get any wiser, and some people are fine with that, i.e. "ignorance is bliss."
When Europeans went to Africa, whether they snatched up people for slavery or just decided to colonize right then and there, we were told that they "taught the uneducated natives" about Jesus. And since only the winners write the history books, few people really know the other side of the "teaching." Just ask yourself, beyond the physical, how do you control a group of people into doing your bidding? You manipulate their beliefs; their mentality. Africans were forced by the Europeans into Christianity by threat of harm or death. When a person receives threats like the ones issued, you'll believe anything they tell you just make life a little easier, although I don't think it helped judging by all the shit that actually happened around that time. The primary reason African Americans believe in Christ is because that's the way they were brought up, and through the generations the fact that their ancestors were originally forced into believing it has lost is effect.
I'm not trying to belittle anyone's beliefs here. I'm merely trying to get you to take a good look at what you believe, and after really thinking about where your spirituality stands, if you still end up Christian, or Jewish, or Muslim, that's great. Do not invest in a faith just because the cool kids are doing it or you're too lazy to think for yourself because that's what leads to so much hatred and ignorance in this World.
And please, people, have a sense of humor about your beliefs. What does it matter if someone pokes fun at what you believe? If you still believe it, no harm is done. It's not like they're shattering your religion by making a little quip. Relax!
Okay that was my one digression. Have a nice day!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Hide ya kids. Hide ya wife. Cuz they hauntin' errybody up in here!
About this time last year I saw a movie that was nothing short of mind-blowing. It is currently listed as the film with the highest return-on-investment ratio in the history of film, and is one of my favorite horror movies of all time. I'm talking about Paranormal Activity.
I first saw the trailer for Paranormal Activity online in mid-2009. I was immediately fascinated by the premise and the simplicity of the trailer. Basically, here's an audience, here's some freaky stuff, and here's the audience screaming.
Let's ignore the fact that I actually believe in the paranormal, i.e. ghosts, aliens, Bigfoot, etc. I was so interested in this film purely from the standpoint of a film-nerd. The film was shot entirely with a handheld camcorder, very similar in fact to the one I currently own. Special effects were kept to an extreme minimum, the cast size was less than five people, and the camera was a part of the film. The characters addressed it and it became the eye through which we viewed Micah's and Katie's collective experience. This was the rawest and simplest a film could get. One of the things that makes a film great is its ability to capture raw emotion. Regardless of the fact that this movie is not a documentary, the camera brilliantly captures all the emotion and all the freakiness of the events that unfold.
Forget gore. And startling the audience with sound is so played out and trite. Suspense is where you scare the living daylights out of people. The fear of not knowing is the fear that gets a hold of you the most and doesn't let go. That's why Paranormal Activity had such a great scare factor. Most of the scares were visual, and the only non-diegetic sound in the whole film was the low rumble one would hear right before something was going to happen, or not happen haha. It played with your head, didn't always deliver, and thus putting you more on edge. Adding to your edginess, the long takes that make up the film make you anxious and slightly hopeful that something crazy would happen next. Our attention spans have shortened so much due to modern society, just staring at a 30 second segment of a stagnant bedroom makes us so comfortable, augmenting the film's effect on you. I could break down each individual freaky event that happened throughout the film, but I don't feel like writing a novel today.
I love minimalist movies, especially when their done well. Video as a medium, instead of film, provides a sense of realism that, I feel, film is often unable to do. Films like Spike Lee's Bamboozled (2000), Cloverfield (2008), and what could be called the "predecessor" to PA and PA2, The Blair Witch Project (1999), are some of the most famous examples of the medium making the movie feel as real as possible, borderline documentary. I could write a whole other post on The Blair Witch Project, but I won't go there. The bottom line is, Paranormal Activity fascinated me so because of its realism or portrayal of realism. The singular lens was the eye through which we witnessed and became involved in the lives of the characters, and got ourselves a little freaked out.
And now...for me to share my disappointment: Paranormal Activity 2. (SPOILERS)
I was so in love with the first film, when I heard a sequel was coming, I cringed. I've never been a huge fan of sequels, and not many people are because they never seem to live up to the expectations established by the first installment. I'm sure there are a few exceptions to this rule, but regardless I was not happy to find out there'd be PA2. However, I consider myself an open minded person, so I figured I'd check out the trailer. The original trailer (above) didn't pique my interest as much, although I admitted I wanted to see more. More and more updated trailers came out, revealing more and more footage, and it didn't look too bad. But after learning that Paramount was actually budgeting the money for the project, I was extremely hesitant. What I loved about the first PA was its minimalism, lack of a professional Hollywood budget, thus my instinct was to not go and see this film.
But peer pressure's a bitch, so after being coerced into going to see it by the same people I saw the first movie with, I prepared myself mentally by wiping all expectations and hopes of what the film would be so I could focus on what the film was. And it was disappointing.
Now for the majority of the movie, I was into it. There were some great funny parts, which is always appreciated to lighten the mood of an otherwise extremely dark film. There are a few amazing paranormal happenings; bravo to whoever came up with the cabinets idea. This film even tied into the first one, both taking place around the same time and having a common link with Kristi and Katie from the original PA being sisters. And adding a dog and a toddler to the mix of characters was new and exciting. But ultimately, it was lack of originality and a God-awful ending that made me glad I used a gift card to buy my ticket and didn't waste $10 at the box office.
As I mentioned before, I was with the movie for the entire ordeal, never shying away from the screen unless it was to shake the last delicious Junior Mint out of its prison box. This sequel/prequel kept my attention which was good. There's nothing I hate more than being bored in a movie theatre. I jumped at a few noises, got excited over the dragging scene, and got uncomfortable during the nightvision basement fiasco, but when it was all over, I thought back to what I had just watched and realized, it really wasn't that great. Basically, it was the original with significant financial backing. PA2 was PA's richer cousin. Since they were almost the same, I felt I could've gone without seeing this second installment. I feel the same way about The Office and Parks & Recreation. One is just like the other, so if I've seen one, I've seen them both. So why would I watch both?
PA2 had many of the same scares as the first one with a few additions that could've been done without. The extended dragging scene was decent, but to lead to the basement was just unoriginal. A horror story in the basement? No way! I know, but it's been done. The whole nightvision gimmick had Hollywood's prints all over it. It was one of a few moments in the film where you could see it coming. Predictability is something that Hollywood horror needs to get away from, and is having a difficult time doing so. I'll give credit to director Tod Williams, he catered well to America's collective short attention span and broke up the long takes between six different cameras rather than just one. Smart for the masses, but it takes away from the original effect of the first installment. But once again, I'll acknowledge my appreciation for the cabinet scene. That was my favorite scene in the entire 90 minutes. I challenge you not to jump or say "Holy shit." However, the ending was lackluster and seemed like a desperate attempt on the writers' part to wrap it all up. Way less intense and climactic than the original, and upon the final summarizing text, the audience let out a groan of disappointment.
I know not many people will agree with me on the fact that Paranormal Activity is the better of the two, but I stand by my decision. Money doesn't make movies better. It's the application of that money that will ultimately affect the quality of the production, and in this case, the Hollywood budget did not add too much to the scare factor of the picture. The original film was shot on a $15,000 budget. Micah and Katie were each paid $500 to act in the film. Screw big budget movies and cheesy special effects. Paranormal Activity grossed over $100 million dollars, setting the R.O.I. record with 434,000%. If you stack the parent film against its offspring, in this instance the former surpasses the latter in terms of originality, tension, and affect on the audience.
I first saw the trailer for Paranormal Activity online in mid-2009. I was immediately fascinated by the premise and the simplicity of the trailer. Basically, here's an audience, here's some freaky stuff, and here's the audience screaming.
Let's ignore the fact that I actually believe in the paranormal, i.e. ghosts, aliens, Bigfoot, etc. I was so interested in this film purely from the standpoint of a film-nerd. The film was shot entirely with a handheld camcorder, very similar in fact to the one I currently own. Special effects were kept to an extreme minimum, the cast size was less than five people, and the camera was a part of the film. The characters addressed it and it became the eye through which we viewed Micah's and Katie's collective experience. This was the rawest and simplest a film could get. One of the things that makes a film great is its ability to capture raw emotion. Regardless of the fact that this movie is not a documentary, the camera brilliantly captures all the emotion and all the freakiness of the events that unfold.
Forget gore. And startling the audience with sound is so played out and trite. Suspense is where you scare the living daylights out of people. The fear of not knowing is the fear that gets a hold of you the most and doesn't let go. That's why Paranormal Activity had such a great scare factor. Most of the scares were visual, and the only non-diegetic sound in the whole film was the low rumble one would hear right before something was going to happen, or not happen haha. It played with your head, didn't always deliver, and thus putting you more on edge. Adding to your edginess, the long takes that make up the film make you anxious and slightly hopeful that something crazy would happen next. Our attention spans have shortened so much due to modern society, just staring at a 30 second segment of a stagnant bedroom makes us so comfortable, augmenting the film's effect on you. I could break down each individual freaky event that happened throughout the film, but I don't feel like writing a novel today.
I love minimalist movies, especially when their done well. Video as a medium, instead of film, provides a sense of realism that, I feel, film is often unable to do. Films like Spike Lee's Bamboozled (2000), Cloverfield (2008), and what could be called the "predecessor" to PA and PA2, The Blair Witch Project (1999), are some of the most famous examples of the medium making the movie feel as real as possible, borderline documentary. I could write a whole other post on The Blair Witch Project, but I won't go there. The bottom line is, Paranormal Activity fascinated me so because of its realism or portrayal of realism. The singular lens was the eye through which we witnessed and became involved in the lives of the characters, and got ourselves a little freaked out.
And now...for me to share my disappointment: Paranormal Activity 2. (SPOILERS)
I was so in love with the first film, when I heard a sequel was coming, I cringed. I've never been a huge fan of sequels, and not many people are because they never seem to live up to the expectations established by the first installment. I'm sure there are a few exceptions to this rule, but regardless I was not happy to find out there'd be PA2. However, I consider myself an open minded person, so I figured I'd check out the trailer. The original trailer (above) didn't pique my interest as much, although I admitted I wanted to see more. More and more updated trailers came out, revealing more and more footage, and it didn't look too bad. But after learning that Paramount was actually budgeting the money for the project, I was extremely hesitant. What I loved about the first PA was its minimalism, lack of a professional Hollywood budget, thus my instinct was to not go and see this film.
But peer pressure's a bitch, so after being coerced into going to see it by the same people I saw the first movie with, I prepared myself mentally by wiping all expectations and hopes of what the film would be so I could focus on what the film was. And it was disappointing.
Now for the majority of the movie, I was into it. There were some great funny parts, which is always appreciated to lighten the mood of an otherwise extremely dark film. There are a few amazing paranormal happenings; bravo to whoever came up with the cabinets idea. This film even tied into the first one, both taking place around the same time and having a common link with Kristi and Katie from the original PA being sisters. And adding a dog and a toddler to the mix of characters was new and exciting. But ultimately, it was lack of originality and a God-awful ending that made me glad I used a gift card to buy my ticket and didn't waste $10 at the box office.
As I mentioned before, I was with the movie for the entire ordeal, never shying away from the screen unless it was to shake the last delicious Junior Mint out of its prison box. This sequel/prequel kept my attention which was good. There's nothing I hate more than being bored in a movie theatre. I jumped at a few noises, got excited over the dragging scene, and got uncomfortable during the nightvision basement fiasco, but when it was all over, I thought back to what I had just watched and realized, it really wasn't that great. Basically, it was the original with significant financial backing. PA2 was PA's richer cousin. Since they were almost the same, I felt I could've gone without seeing this second installment. I feel the same way about The Office and Parks & Recreation. One is just like the other, so if I've seen one, I've seen them both. So why would I watch both?
PA2 had many of the same scares as the first one with a few additions that could've been done without. The extended dragging scene was decent, but to lead to the basement was just unoriginal. A horror story in the basement? No way! I know, but it's been done. The whole nightvision gimmick had Hollywood's prints all over it. It was one of a few moments in the film where you could see it coming. Predictability is something that Hollywood horror needs to get away from, and is having a difficult time doing so. I'll give credit to director Tod Williams, he catered well to America's collective short attention span and broke up the long takes between six different cameras rather than just one. Smart for the masses, but it takes away from the original effect of the first installment. But once again, I'll acknowledge my appreciation for the cabinet scene. That was my favorite scene in the entire 90 minutes. I challenge you not to jump or say "Holy shit." However, the ending was lackluster and seemed like a desperate attempt on the writers' part to wrap it all up. Way less intense and climactic than the original, and upon the final summarizing text, the audience let out a groan of disappointment.
I know not many people will agree with me on the fact that Paranormal Activity is the better of the two, but I stand by my decision. Money doesn't make movies better. It's the application of that money that will ultimately affect the quality of the production, and in this case, the Hollywood budget did not add too much to the scare factor of the picture. The original film was shot on a $15,000 budget. Micah and Katie were each paid $500 to act in the film. Screw big budget movies and cheesy special effects. Paranormal Activity grossed over $100 million dollars, setting the R.O.I. record with 434,000%. If you stack the parent film against its offspring, in this instance the former surpasses the latter in terms of originality, tension, and affect on the audience.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
"Where we're going, we don't need roads"
Let me go ahead and address the obvious time-gap between this post and the last: I know I've been slacking, but I'm not going to post something just for the hell of it. If I write something, there's going to be a purpose behind it. No meaningless dribble here. I've just been searching for something worthwhile to post. So there. Bazinga.
I can very easily be struck ill with cabin fever. And when I say "cabin fever," I'm not referring to the really bad horror movie made a few years ago about a bunch of hip youngsters being murdered in the forests of West Virginia, nor am I limiting the definition of the illness to just being stuck inside for a prolonged period of time. I get cabin fever when I am bored for an extended amount of time, and up until this week, I would've been continuing this run for almost five months. My cure for this mentally and physically debilitating psychological illness is being busy. I try to get myself involved in so many tasks that I am unable to even think about how busy I am. I just...go.
I'm at another time in my life where I have many things going on to keep me preoccupied, and it feels good. I'm still doing the whole band thing, writing this garbage and contributing to another blog site, bartending, just started doing some part-time video work, and I've also begun working on some independent film/video projects. Holla! I love being busy and productive. And for some reason, my internal clock didn't want me to sleep past 7:00am this morning, so I caught up on some of this season's Fall premieres, uploaded some footage to the ol' Macbook, and starting typing this nonsense.
Now to get to the point in all of this. It is extremely important to take charge of your life because you are the only person who is responsible for your own successes, failures, gains, and losses in your existence. However, somethings are, quite simply, beyond your control. Now, I know what you're thinking; "That don't make no God damn sense!" I know it's somewhat contradictory, but just hear me out.
Ultimately, we have very little control when it comes to determining where we all end up in life. I'm not necessarily talking about predestination or anything like that, but we are given signs all throughout our lives that let us know if we are on the right track in life, or if we need to change directions. This statement may seem vague, but honestly, it's meant to be that way. A broad array of hints are given to us at different stages in our lives that guide our morals, goals, beliefs, ambitions, and many other aspects of our individual existence. However, for this particular post, I'm concentrating on goals and ambitions. Now, we've all heard of the old adage, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again." Well sometimes after a few more unsuccessful attempts, you should probably give up and move on to something else. The Universe is most likely telling you that whatever you're trying to accomplish just wasn't meant to be. Granted, a bunch of losers use that excuse after only trying once or never at all, but they're called "losers" for a reason. It is not easy to recognize these signs I'm talking about, so more often than not it takes a while for one to really understand where they're being led in the grand scheme of things. Hey, maybe you weren't meant to be a doctor...the world needs dentists and chiropractors. The Universe has something laid out for every single one of us, but that's not to say we are all running on auto-pilot.
We are solely responsible when it comes to how we live our lives; good or evil, awesome or lame, and everything in between. The route we take in life has been set for us by The Universe's version of Google Maps, but we all know the most memorable things happen on the road trip rather than at the final destination. We've got to learn to enjoy ourselves along the way. Granted every once in a while we can't help but feel a little miserable and cranky because we run over those pesky potholes every now and again. But overall, we've got to make sure that we've got the radio tuned to our favorite songs, plenty of Utz© Cheez Balls and Arizona© Green Tea (product plugs Wayne's World style), and our eyes on the road, keeping a lookout for those signs.
The phase of my life involving cabin fever and uncertainty is behind me; a mere overnight stay in a cheap motel during intense highway construction. I've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and...wait...my name isn't Jake or Elwood...but REGARDLESS, I've got plenty going on in my life right now to keep me focused on the road ahead, and I plan to enjoy every curve along the way.
I can very easily be struck ill with cabin fever. And when I say "cabin fever," I'm not referring to the really bad horror movie made a few years ago about a bunch of hip youngsters being murdered in the forests of West Virginia, nor am I limiting the definition of the illness to just being stuck inside for a prolonged period of time. I get cabin fever when I am bored for an extended amount of time, and up until this week, I would've been continuing this run for almost five months. My cure for this mentally and physically debilitating psychological illness is being busy. I try to get myself involved in so many tasks that I am unable to even think about how busy I am. I just...go.
I'm at another time in my life where I have many things going on to keep me preoccupied, and it feels good. I'm still doing the whole band thing, writing this garbage and contributing to another blog site, bartending, just started doing some part-time video work, and I've also begun working on some independent film/video projects. Holla! I love being busy and productive. And for some reason, my internal clock didn't want me to sleep past 7:00am this morning, so I caught up on some of this season's Fall premieres, uploaded some footage to the ol' Macbook, and starting typing this nonsense.
Now to get to the point in all of this. It is extremely important to take charge of your life because you are the only person who is responsible for your own successes, failures, gains, and losses in your existence. However, somethings are, quite simply, beyond your control. Now, I know what you're thinking; "That don't make no God damn sense!" I know it's somewhat contradictory, but just hear me out.
Ultimately, we have very little control when it comes to determining where we all end up in life. I'm not necessarily talking about predestination or anything like that, but we are given signs all throughout our lives that let us know if we are on the right track in life, or if we need to change directions. This statement may seem vague, but honestly, it's meant to be that way. A broad array of hints are given to us at different stages in our lives that guide our morals, goals, beliefs, ambitions, and many other aspects of our individual existence. However, for this particular post, I'm concentrating on goals and ambitions. Now, we've all heard of the old adage, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again." Well sometimes after a few more unsuccessful attempts, you should probably give up and move on to something else. The Universe is most likely telling you that whatever you're trying to accomplish just wasn't meant to be. Granted, a bunch of losers use that excuse after only trying once or never at all, but they're called "losers" for a reason. It is not easy to recognize these signs I'm talking about, so more often than not it takes a while for one to really understand where they're being led in the grand scheme of things. Hey, maybe you weren't meant to be a doctor...the world needs dentists and chiropractors. The Universe has something laid out for every single one of us, but that's not to say we are all running on auto-pilot.
We are solely responsible when it comes to how we live our lives; good or evil, awesome or lame, and everything in between. The route we take in life has been set for us by The Universe's version of Google Maps, but we all know the most memorable things happen on the road trip rather than at the final destination. We've got to learn to enjoy ourselves along the way. Granted every once in a while we can't help but feel a little miserable and cranky because we run over those pesky potholes every now and again. But overall, we've got to make sure that we've got the radio tuned to our favorite songs, plenty of Utz© Cheez Balls and Arizona© Green Tea (product plugs Wayne's World style), and our eyes on the road, keeping a lookout for those signs.
The phase of my life involving cabin fever and uncertainty is behind me; a mere overnight stay in a cheap motel during intense highway construction. I've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and...wait...my name isn't Jake or Elwood...but REGARDLESS, I've got plenty going on in my life right now to keep me focused on the road ahead, and I plan to enjoy every curve along the way.
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