Hello darlings.
It's good to be back.
I haven't been gone that long, you say?
I know. I know, but any time away from you seems like an eternity. My heart yearns to tap my fingertips lightly on each key as if I'm sending pure love into cyberspace with every stroke.
That's stupid, cheesey, and slightly pathetic, you say?
Well, you said it, not me. You just don't appreciate the pure poetry that exists within the confines of this blog, and I pity you. I pity you.
I should pity myself, you say?
That's just not very nice of you, and I think I will end this little exchange of unpleasantness before I resort to verbal assault on your moral character (most likely referring to your complete lack of tact and possibly your free-wheeling attitude when it comes to sexual practices).
No retort? Yeah, I thought so.
What I've learned this weekend is that sleep isn't all that important as long as you have enough natural adrenaline to keep you going.
What do I mean, you ask?
Good question (and I'm glad we got past the whole "pity yourself" thing really quickly). This weekend I managed to survive 48 hours with a mere 3 hours of sleep under my belt, but I powered through it. The secret, my friends, is motivation.
What kind of motivation, you ask?
The good kind, my friend, the good kind. The reason I was able to keep my eyes and my limbs functional on 3 hours of sleep for 48 hours is that it was because I was doing something that I love (filmmaking). With pleasure and excitement, comes adrenaline. If I was getting up after 3 hours of sleep to watch sheep graze, I would become the fastest case of spontaneous narcolepsy ever on record.
What's narcolepsy, you ask?
Look it up, lazy ass. Who do you think I am? Your mother?
Why do I have to be so mean, you ask?
I don't know, maybe it's because I have to talk to idiots like you.
You don't actually exist, you say.
That's a very good point...
I'm the most brilliant and creative mind that has ever functioned and anything and everything that I think about lights up like a thousands suns everytime I mention its very name, you say?
That's more like it.
I'm being very pretentious, you say?
That's not really the word you were looking for, but we'll work on that later. You're lucky you have me, man, or you'd be just another one of my idiot personalities.
So I broke my camera this weekend. Unfortunately, this happened the night before the big production day, so I never got to take any still photos. It was probably for the best, as it might have been a distraction.
How do I know it's broken, you ask?
Well, unless a camera is supposed to make a little crunching sound every time the lens extends or retracts, I think it's broken.
Just fix it, you say?
Who do you think I am? R. W. Canon. I can't fix lenses. Can you open up a point-and-shoot, tap out all of the micro-shards of optic lens, melt them down into a little puddle of glass, and pour it back into the camera? Ta-da! Fixed!
I don't have to be so sarcastic, you say?
Actually I do.
No, I don't, you say?
Yes. Yes, I do. I very much do.
Do I realize that I'm still talking to myself, and therefore, I am just mocking myself, you ask?
Yes. Yes, I do. Now.
I would like to apologize to anyone reading this for it's weirdness. I would also like to apologize to those who are now slightly scared of me because they read this. Please don't be. I'm actually a very nice person and I keep my insanities mostly to myself. That's such a lie. I'm sorry.
Why would I lie, you ask?
Because while I never lie about important things, and I value honesty above anything else, I am actually quite a gifted liar.
That's getting pretentious again, you say?
It's not pretentious if it's true. Think about it.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Your Childhood: A Guide for the Maladjusted
I'm sure everyone reading this has, at one time or another, been told they have had a deprived childhood. I'm also sure that it wasn't told to you by a malicious sociopath just trying to hurt your feelings, but by a friend or aquaintance who had learned that you had been lacking something in your precious early youth that society seems to think is essential in the process that is child-rearing (or at least was in the early nineties). Now, don't take their word for it. I'm sure you've turned out just fine. Here is a random selection of said "essentials". I will also assign a trauma level rating to each, measured in therapy hours required to fix the subconscious psychological issues that stem from not having that specific thing in your life when you were a wee tot. Like Pogs.
Riding a Bike: I don't really know why not having ridden a bike (or owned one, I guess) is considered more deprived than not having ridden or used a skateboard, rollerblades, a scooter, or a pogo stick. I suppose bike-riding can pull the "I've been around for nearly two hundred years" card, but that's really no excuse. They all fall under the "alternative modes of transportation that border on unnecessary and do not require the aquisition of a license to operate one" column heading. I say we rise up and start badgering people about rollerblades and pogo sticks as well. It's only fair. So you missed out on a parental unit pushing you on your two-wheeler until you could ride all by yourself without training wheels like some happy Hollywood family. Boo frickin' hoo. I'm sure they bought you ice cream at some point. That's just as effective with a lot less screaming. I rode a bike recreationally for many years in my late single digits to early double digits and the only thing I gained is a few pairs of torn jeans, probably a hundred dollars in bandages, and countless scars. Bikes are not for the uncoordinated.
Trauma Level: One hour. You can tell the therapist that you didn't really need one and aren't bothered by it, then still have time to talk about how you were always picked last in gym class (like that system ever really existed).
Playing Video Games: This is probably more relevant to today's preteens than to my generation, but I find it still applies. I still get weird looks when I say I've never heard of, let alone played, Starcraft (whatever the hell that is). The only thing I ever really played as a child was Duck Hunt and Super Mario Bros. at my grandpa's house when I was 6 on the original NES (like I know what that is...). Seeing as how I was one of the youngest of like... 15 cousins, I never really got to play much. So my experience with video games is watching my cousins shout at a dog that made fun of their obscenely poor water-foul slaughtering skills. However, we have to take into account that some video games are quite violent and, perhaps, people that never really played them as a child are better because of it. I mean, Mario jumps angrily on fungi and spits fireballs at unsuspecting turtle creatures. I know he's Italian and all but... it's unnecessary.
Trauma Level: Two hours to talk about how you never got a turn at the console and now you have self-esteem and assertiveness issues, and one hour to use one of those therapeutic punching bags to let off some steam.
Riding a Bike: I don't really know why not having ridden a bike (or owned one, I guess) is considered more deprived than not having ridden or used a skateboard, rollerblades, a scooter, or a pogo stick. I suppose bike-riding can pull the "I've been around for nearly two hundred years" card, but that's really no excuse. They all fall under the "alternative modes of transportation that border on unnecessary and do not require the aquisition of a license to operate one" column heading. I say we rise up and start badgering people about rollerblades and pogo sticks as well. It's only fair. So you missed out on a parental unit pushing you on your two-wheeler until you could ride all by yourself without training wheels like some happy Hollywood family. Boo frickin' hoo. I'm sure they bought you ice cream at some point. That's just as effective with a lot less screaming. I rode a bike recreationally for many years in my late single digits to early double digits and the only thing I gained is a few pairs of torn jeans, probably a hundred dollars in bandages, and countless scars. Bikes are not for the uncoordinated.
Trauma Level: One hour. You can tell the therapist that you didn't really need one and aren't bothered by it, then still have time to talk about how you were always picked last in gym class (like that system ever really existed).
Playing Video Games: This is probably more relevant to today's preteens than to my generation, but I find it still applies. I still get weird looks when I say I've never heard of, let alone played, Starcraft (whatever the hell that is). The only thing I ever really played as a child was Duck Hunt and Super Mario Bros. at my grandpa's house when I was 6 on the original NES (like I know what that is...). Seeing as how I was one of the youngest of like... 15 cousins, I never really got to play much. So my experience with video games is watching my cousins shout at a dog that made fun of their obscenely poor water-foul slaughtering skills. However, we have to take into account that some video games are quite violent and, perhaps, people that never really played them as a child are better because of it. I mean, Mario jumps angrily on fungi and spits fireballs at unsuspecting turtle creatures. I know he's Italian and all but... it's unnecessary.
Trauma Level: Two hours to talk about how you never got a turn at the console and now you have self-esteem and assertiveness issues, and one hour to use one of those therapeutic punching bags to let off some steam.
"I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the idiot holding the gun like a bouquet of flowers."
Flying a Kite: Unless you're Mary Poppins, chances are you have precious little kite-flying experience. In today's world, the kite is a "toy" that has suffered serious neglect. When I was a kid, I flew a kite. Not often but, let's be honest, once a year is enough to satisfy that little slice of the "stuff to do in the summer to get out of the house" pie chart. Even when I was a kid, not many people did it; and yet, people are scrutinized for never having done it. It's not fair, really. It's like judging people for not having seen Gone With The Wind, when really... Who has?
Trauma Level: None, just go watch Mary Poppins. You'll see what you haven't been missing.
Playing Monopoly: If you haven't done this, what's wrong with you? I think this one is the one I need to back 100%. Not only do you learn how to play nicely with friends; you learn basic strategy, real estate procedures, and money-management and business skills. Not to mention that you get to be a tiny part of a franchise that has been around for a century and has versions based on every decade, every species of animal, and every television series in existence. If you haven't played Monopoly, go play it now. I'll wait.
Trauma Level: Eight hours; one hour to talk about those nightmares you've been having about being molested by Uncle Pennybags for never having played the game, and seven hours to play one game with your therapist. At a leisurely pace of course, we don't want any cases of PTSD.
Sending children to jail since 1936.
Having Seen the Entire Disney Animated Feature Collection: I am guilty of judging people based on their lack of connoisseurship when it comes to the classic Disney animated features. Unless you didn't own a VCR, I just don't think there is an excuse for not having seen The Lion King, Aladdin, or Beauty and the Beast. I really don't. Sorry. What a sad existence you must lead. Not quite getting any James Earl Jones/Mufasa references, not enjoying Angela Lansbury as much as you should, and not experiencing that tingly feeling in high school when you've read the first half of your translated copy of Hamlet and you clue in.
Trauma Level: Seventy hours. Yes, seventy. That is how long it will take you to watch the entire Disney animated feature collection. Not counting Pixar. It's the only cure.
Having a Pet Goldfish: I understand why parents buy their children low-maintenance pets. It's so they can experience and understand what death is before a major human death has a chance to affect them. How depressing. Seriously though, a goldfish is the worst template for death a parent could use. My goldfish (and I had several) lasted, on average, about a week and a half. Goldfish are easier to kill than WWI fighter pilots. I'm sure a good number of children think that by adjusting the thermostat by one degree or by tapping on the door to grandma's bedroom, it will send her to McNally & Sons funeral home faster than you can say Teletubbies.
Trauma Level: None. Thanks to not having a pet goldfish, you dealt with death like a well-adjusted child; not knowing quite what was going on until a few years later and then thought "I probably should have been sadder".
Camping: Who doesn't love a crackling fire, roasting marshmallows, playing a harmonica, hiking through the woods, stringing up your food in a tree at night to avoid bear attacks, mosquito repellant, using outhouses in the middle of the night, minus thirty degree temperatures, and the smell of weed from the next campsite? It is truly a coming-of-age experience. I camped for many, many years. Raised on it, I was. Even with all of it's drawbacks, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I do understand, though, that not every family is as outdoorsy as mine and it's a shame. Nowadays, there are ways to take video games into the wilderness, so there's really no excuse not to. The bears are waiting.
Trauma Level: One night in your backyard with a flashlight, a sleeping bag, a book, and some snacks. It's not the same, but it'll do.
It's OK, I'm sure with the appropriate amount of therapy as prescribed by me, you'll be just fine. Or at least slightly less damaged than you have been. No promises though.
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
Skin and Other Stories by Roald Dahl
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Common Latin Phrases: A Guide for the Ambitious Academic
Everyone strives to be more intelligent. If you don't, stop reading right now, this guide will only make your goal of complete ignorance more difficult to achieve. Stick to your guns, no one likes a quitter. For those of you who do wish to gain a touch more knowledge, keep reading. I would like to touch base with some old latin phrases and see how they're doing, what they've been up to for the last 26 centuries, find out why they've got the legal community wrapped around their gnarly little Roman fingers. Mostly it's so that laymen, like us, can find out what those phrases we've been throwing out during junior high debate tournaments over the years actually mean.
Bona fide: "in good faith"
According to my research (insert flashback of watching The Magic Schoolbus), this phrase is used in contemporary English as a way of asking for someone's credentials, as in "show me your bona fides." Honestly, that sounds like an invitation for exhibitionism, and not the good kind. I think you'll find its more common usage is as a qualification of truth. As in, "Oprah Winfrey is a bona fide rich person", or "Stephen Hawking is a bona fide cripple."
De facto: "by the fact"
This has been deemed synonymous with such other phrases as "for all intents and purposes" or "in fact", but it really means that it is something that is true in practice but not officially established in law. Until the "bro code" was published, it was de facto that you never leave a high five or a fist bump hanging when it is offered to you. Common sense, really. Personally, I think it sounds like a cool Italian last name but, instead, it would be spelled D'Facto. I'm picturing someone in the mafia who eats ravioli out of bullet ridden human skulls.
Pro bono: "for the good"
Boy, has this one been distorted over the years. No longer does it mean "for the good". Now it means "for free". I guess, if you're a nitpicker and you don't enjoy the benefit and general happiness that can result from having friends, you might argue that they can be interpreted as the same thing. I think that is a very materialistic approach to the philosophy, and I will proceed to assume that you are a lawyer. My condolences.
Ad nauseum: "to (the point of) nausea"
While most commonly used as an almost metaphorical hyperbole to describe menial events that have been continuing to the point of nausea, I would prefer to use it in it's more literal sense. Bring it back to it's roots. Such as, "I ate jager bomb jello shots ad nauseum" or "I rode the carousel with my screaming nephew while inhaling a combination of second-hand cigarette smoke and pink cotton candy ad nauseum."
Quid pro quo: "this for that"
Otherwise known among circles of cigar-smoking poker-playing clone husbands of the 1960's as "tit for tat". Translated into a dialect of English most commonly found sung by Elvis Presley's co-stars it becomes "If you'll scratch my back/Then I'll scratch your back/Like two peas in a pack/Let's get rid of our itch together." Politicians have also been found to use this phrase as a strange occupational slang for "bribery".
Deus ex machina: "god out of the machine"
A plot device where a seemingly impossible problem or situation is miraculously solved by some contrived intervention of a new person, force, or object.
*Insert crass and insensitive Bible reference here*
Non sequitur: "it does not follow"
To me, rather than represent a literary device that makes a passage or event humorous due to it's apparent lack of relevance to what came before it, I think it should be yelled during boot camp at every military training base on the continent. Imagine the moral of a group of young soldiers being told they are marching incorrectly by having a lovely latin word shouted at them instead of a sentence that might rhyme with "Gut the shmuck up and get your feet moving, you smother plucking buns of fishes!"
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Bona fide: "in good faith"
According to my research (insert flashback of watching The Magic Schoolbus), this phrase is used in contemporary English as a way of asking for someone's credentials, as in "show me your bona fides." Honestly, that sounds like an invitation for exhibitionism, and not the good kind. I think you'll find its more common usage is as a qualification of truth. As in, "Oprah Winfrey is a bona fide rich person", or "Stephen Hawking is a bona fide cripple."
De facto: "by the fact"
This has been deemed synonymous with such other phrases as "for all intents and purposes" or "in fact", but it really means that it is something that is true in practice but not officially established in law. Until the "bro code" was published, it was de facto that you never leave a high five or a fist bump hanging when it is offered to you. Common sense, really. Personally, I think it sounds like a cool Italian last name but, instead, it would be spelled D'Facto. I'm picturing someone in the mafia who eats ravioli out of bullet ridden human skulls.
Pro bono: "for the good"
Boy, has this one been distorted over the years. No longer does it mean "for the good". Now it means "for free". I guess, if you're a nitpicker and you don't enjoy the benefit and general happiness that can result from having friends, you might argue that they can be interpreted as the same thing. I think that is a very materialistic approach to the philosophy, and I will proceed to assume that you are a lawyer. My condolences.
Ad nauseum: "to (the point of) nausea"
While most commonly used as an almost metaphorical hyperbole to describe menial events that have been continuing to the point of nausea, I would prefer to use it in it's more literal sense. Bring it back to it's roots. Such as, "I ate jager bomb jello shots ad nauseum" or "I rode the carousel with my screaming nephew while inhaling a combination of second-hand cigarette smoke and pink cotton candy ad nauseum."
Quid pro quo: "this for that"
Otherwise known among circles of cigar-smoking poker-playing clone husbands of the 1960's as "tit for tat". Translated into a dialect of English most commonly found sung by Elvis Presley's co-stars it becomes "If you'll scratch my back/Then I'll scratch your back/Like two peas in a pack/Let's get rid of our itch together." Politicians have also been found to use this phrase as a strange occupational slang for "bribery".
Deus ex machina: "god out of the machine"
A plot device where a seemingly impossible problem or situation is miraculously solved by some contrived intervention of a new person, force, or object.
*Insert crass and insensitive Bible reference here*
Non sequitur: "it does not follow"
To me, rather than represent a literary device that makes a passage or event humorous due to it's apparent lack of relevance to what came before it, I think it should be yelled during boot camp at every military training base on the continent. Imagine the moral of a group of young soldiers being told they are marching incorrectly by having a lovely latin word shouted at them instead of a sentence that might rhyme with "Gut the shmuck up and get your feet moving, you smother plucking buns of fishes!"
BOOK RECOMMENDATION
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
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