Almost a week here and I can't stop thinking about the rain or the wind. It nearly ruined our arrival and could possibly delay our departure if it keeps up this way. Nothing extreme, but no warnings and the constant flow that keeps the beach closed and us inside. I am so glad that March Madness is hapening or there would be nothing to do, books only bring you so far.
While here I have been pondering the differances of living here verses traveling here and think it is setup for travelers much better than residents. My reasoning comes from how many people talk about how great it is here, yet they seem so miserable when trying to describe the hardships that their land endures. Whereas travelers just show up for a week or less, spend their money, and leave. Without one the other wouldn't exist, yet the resident is more depndent on the traveler because there would be no income for those living and working here without travel.
Ok, I worded that oddly, but the idea is that people who live on an island have many things to worry about, such as bad weather and the storm seasons which will ruin their business if they don't plan for it properly. However, the traveler can just come and go as they please. They may get frustrated with the rising prices or bad phone reception, but they know they will be back in their element soon enough to catch themselves up on what they may have missed.
One of the things that struck me as odd is when we arrived here by plane and were walking towards baggage claim there were only two carousels which were completly surrounded from all angles. Is this how their airport does business or is it just really busy at the time we arrived? Either way, anyone could have walked into this area and taken any bag they wanted without any hesitation, which I think may have happened to Suzanne's brother who is still missing his bag and we are leaving tomorrow. Our bags were delayed as well though, well one was there but the rest aparently didn't make it to our plane when we took off so the airline sent them on the next flight and the airport put them on the ferry to Tortola for us which was nice but took a lot of work to track them down.
The Ferry is how people get from island to island here, I think there are a couple of bridges from one to the other but it seems rare because it would interupt the views, plus the waves would cause a hazzard in some parts. All the ferry's run on a set schedule, commonly known as island time, and they depart within the half hour of their designated posting. When we actually arrived at our destination our passports were stamped and we got a cab to our villa? Not sure what it is called, but this seems like a good fit for where we stayed.
The trps back and forth on the island are rough though. It is full of hills, I think this island is a volcano, and the roads follow the hills up and down the sleep slopes with narrow turns and rough terrain. In some areas people designing the roads probably thought it would be bad if some car just lost control and kept going down the road in the same direction, so turns of 180 degrees happen on these hills to prevent any major accidents.
But in the end, after all the heartache and bad moods mixed with the spontaneous weather I think things went well for me here. I really needed a break from school and work, which is what this place was designed for in my mind, and even though we the tough times were hard all I focused on was just sit back and relax, which is the second reason this place was invented. And what better thing to do when in the caribbean.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
who am I
The timing of things has been quite off as of late. It seems like I am thinking of doing something well in advance, yet when the time comes I can't remember what I was going to do, or worse, I choose not to. From watching movies to reading articles for class, I don't seem to have the interest to keep up with my head anymore. That is a problem for me because my whole life I always thought of that as my weapon of choice. I could resort to other mroe agressive means, but my head always kept me afloat and on the go. It organizes my day, acts as an alarm clock, gives me reminders for specific dates/times, and never failed me when I needed it. Only now I can't seem to use it in the same context, or maybe it is just more advanced than my body.
I guess I don't know which applies here, but for the last two months I have felt in over my head on a number of occasions and the only thing that keeps me sane is the same thing that always did, movies.
Something new can remedy any situation I feel like I need to get out of, and the classics can bring me back to a time when I didn't need to worry about what I would be doing the next day. There is something about them that just gets inside of me and makes me forget all that was worriesome. I can't explain it, but if you have ever watched a movie with me you should know that I only talk when there are very funny play-on-words and the movie isn't put together well, and I never pause it to go to the bathroom because any interuptions bring me out of that state and I can't get back into it when I return.
Is that normal, does anyone else feel a connection to films that they can't explain aside from the desire to watch more. If I could I would watch movies all day and night just to register a directory for everything ever made. This is what I attempted in High School and that knowledge still resides in the back of my head. You can hear about it if you name a movie but can't remember the actor or the name of the character they played, or maybe you want to know other films that a director has made. That is the sort of stuff that I could rely on, but now my head has done something new and it is hard to adjust to this. I can't remember things without writing them down and I plan ahead for things yet forget about them or change my mind at the last minute.
Maybe I just don't understand how it works anymore, and maybe I just have been sick or had a recurring cold that won't die. Either way, by the end of this weekend this is all that I could think of.
I leave you with the lyrics by the Pipettes from the song "I love you"
There use to be a lot of things that I didn't know
And although they still exist I try not to let them show
But I think that now you see me for my true colors
Sure you recognize I'm more stupid than the others
But I love you, and I love you, and I really love you,
Till the day I die there will never be a time when we have to say goodbye
I seen you try to laugh at all of my bad jokes
And I've cooked you seven meals, six of them on which you choked
But it has taken me a while to get use to this good feeling
When I woke up with a smile how I nearly started screaming
That I love you, and I love you, and I really love you,
Till the day I die there will never be a time when we have to say goodbye because I love you
I guess I don't know which applies here, but for the last two months I have felt in over my head on a number of occasions and the only thing that keeps me sane is the same thing that always did, movies.
Something new can remedy any situation I feel like I need to get out of, and the classics can bring me back to a time when I didn't need to worry about what I would be doing the next day. There is something about them that just gets inside of me and makes me forget all that was worriesome. I can't explain it, but if you have ever watched a movie with me you should know that I only talk when there are very funny play-on-words and the movie isn't put together well, and I never pause it to go to the bathroom because any interuptions bring me out of that state and I can't get back into it when I return.
Is that normal, does anyone else feel a connection to films that they can't explain aside from the desire to watch more. If I could I would watch movies all day and night just to register a directory for everything ever made. This is what I attempted in High School and that knowledge still resides in the back of my head. You can hear about it if you name a movie but can't remember the actor or the name of the character they played, or maybe you want to know other films that a director has made. That is the sort of stuff that I could rely on, but now my head has done something new and it is hard to adjust to this. I can't remember things without writing them down and I plan ahead for things yet forget about them or change my mind at the last minute.
Maybe I just don't understand how it works anymore, and maybe I just have been sick or had a recurring cold that won't die. Either way, by the end of this weekend this is all that I could think of.
I leave you with the lyrics by the Pipettes from the song "I love you"
There use to be a lot of things that I didn't know
And although they still exist I try not to let them show
But I think that now you see me for my true colors
Sure you recognize I'm more stupid than the others
But I love you, and I love you, and I really love you,
Till the day I die there will never be a time when we have to say goodbye
I seen you try to laugh at all of my bad jokes
And I've cooked you seven meals, six of them on which you choked
But it has taken me a while to get use to this good feeling
When I woke up with a smile how I nearly started screaming
That I love you, and I love you, and I really love you,
Till the day I die there will never be a time when we have to say goodbye because I love you
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Updates and debates
Nearly a month, and as crazy as it sounds I can actually say it feels like a month has passed for me. By the last post I had just started classes, which have been occupying more time that I am alloting for them. On top of that my hours at work seem to be increasing, which is strange because it is no longer the busy season for kitchen utensils. And the wedding planning is speeding up due to my questionable move to New York this Fall.
All in all I am pretty exhausted to say the least, and what makes things even worse is that I can't remember the last film I saw in a theater let alone the last film I saw from begining to end in one sitting. It is strange for me to go on like this, but I am slowly getting a taste of the filmmaker's lifestyle. In short I can tell you that it entails a lot of time and scheduling, then tripple the time you estimated and rewrite your schedule to accomodate it. I can't say I am frustrated with what is coming out of this all, but I yearn for those days when I could lounge around the house watching movies while I cleaned or just walking to a coffee shop and sitting down with a book or y computer for a few hours to relax. I can't even find the time to work out lately, which is bad since Spring break is coming up in a month. All of this is on top of planing a move back to my parent's house for a month to save money before I head to China in May.
It feels overwhelming when I try to break it all down like that in bullet-point form, and I'm sure I forgot a thing or two in there but you get the idea.
Complaining aside, what I want to talk about today is my intro to film class. Every day I come very prepared and excited to show what I have learned only to leave feeling like I failed and have a lot of catching up to do. It all started when we actually had to turn what we were working on, coincidence? I guess talking about a project and filming a project are two different things, at least to the instructor.
Don't get me wrong, he is a greta guy and really understands filmmaking, along with the teaching assistants. The only problem is that he has a mindset of what making a film is suppose to look and feel like, and sadly nobody in the class has taken this for more than a lesson. Sure, we all take notes and come prepared to learn, but something is getting lost in translation from what he knows and what we should know. Granted, everyone learns how to do something their own way, but I really think that this clas is very unprepared for what's in store. However, at this moment I plan on changing my perspective to make what he is looking for instead of what I feel will get the point across because he has continually viewed my work and heard my ideas only to lower their potential. Thats not to say they are not creative, just not realistic for this class.
My problem has been my plan of attack, I always view the filmmaking process as a day-to-day thing. I may have a pitch, or storyboards, and I may not. Thats not to say I don't know what I want or when I will film it, it's just that I can't seem to find a way to express the ideas beforehand and I don't support them afterwards. This is all coming at a time when I am in the middle of a project that I don't know how to end, so I may take a hit on my first real grade for the class. But I plan on listening more that writing, asking questions, using office hours, and putting in the right amount of time a project requires. I only hope the rest of the class goes this route soon, because I fear for the grades of others that continue in their current ways.
The one thing that did work out in my favor is that I pitched an idea which he didn't particularly care for, and I showed a rough cut of the footage which he still tore apart, yet I finished the project and he laughed. Not just that, he clapped and said 'I like it' with no mention of what he didn't originally approve of. I guess it goes to show that when your heart is in the piece from the very begining it will show by the end. Or as Fritz Lang put it in Jean Luc Goddard's 'Contempt' "Always finish what you start" as he prepares to film Ulysses' return to Ithiaca.
All in all I am pretty exhausted to say the least, and what makes things even worse is that I can't remember the last film I saw in a theater let alone the last film I saw from begining to end in one sitting. It is strange for me to go on like this, but I am slowly getting a taste of the filmmaker's lifestyle. In short I can tell you that it entails a lot of time and scheduling, then tripple the time you estimated and rewrite your schedule to accomodate it. I can't say I am frustrated with what is coming out of this all, but I yearn for those days when I could lounge around the house watching movies while I cleaned or just walking to a coffee shop and sitting down with a book or y computer for a few hours to relax. I can't even find the time to work out lately, which is bad since Spring break is coming up in a month. All of this is on top of planing a move back to my parent's house for a month to save money before I head to China in May.
It feels overwhelming when I try to break it all down like that in bullet-point form, and I'm sure I forgot a thing or two in there but you get the idea.
Complaining aside, what I want to talk about today is my intro to film class. Every day I come very prepared and excited to show what I have learned only to leave feeling like I failed and have a lot of catching up to do. It all started when we actually had to turn what we were working on, coincidence? I guess talking about a project and filming a project are two different things, at least to the instructor.
Don't get me wrong, he is a greta guy and really understands filmmaking, along with the teaching assistants. The only problem is that he has a mindset of what making a film is suppose to look and feel like, and sadly nobody in the class has taken this for more than a lesson. Sure, we all take notes and come prepared to learn, but something is getting lost in translation from what he knows and what we should know. Granted, everyone learns how to do something their own way, but I really think that this clas is very unprepared for what's in store. However, at this moment I plan on changing my perspective to make what he is looking for instead of what I feel will get the point across because he has continually viewed my work and heard my ideas only to lower their potential. Thats not to say they are not creative, just not realistic for this class.
My problem has been my plan of attack, I always view the filmmaking process as a day-to-day thing. I may have a pitch, or storyboards, and I may not. Thats not to say I don't know what I want or when I will film it, it's just that I can't seem to find a way to express the ideas beforehand and I don't support them afterwards. This is all coming at a time when I am in the middle of a project that I don't know how to end, so I may take a hit on my first real grade for the class. But I plan on listening more that writing, asking questions, using office hours, and putting in the right amount of time a project requires. I only hope the rest of the class goes this route soon, because I fear for the grades of others that continue in their current ways.
The one thing that did work out in my favor is that I pitched an idea which he didn't particularly care for, and I showed a rough cut of the footage which he still tore apart, yet I finished the project and he laughed. Not just that, he clapped and said 'I like it' with no mention of what he didn't originally approve of. I guess it goes to show that when your heart is in the piece from the very begining it will show by the end. Or as Fritz Lang put it in Jean Luc Goddard's 'Contempt' "Always finish what you start" as he prepares to film Ulysses' return to Ithiaca.
Friday, January 18, 2008
The knowledge of uncertantity
Kind of misleading when I think of it now, but I never really was certain about knowledge in the first place. In the end it's all just time used well, but what does it get you at the end of the day? I guess I keep trying to figure this out, and I really commit to what I sign up for, but lately I have been wondering what would happen if I just stopped a while back. If I never went to college would I still be in Minnesota? Is it possible to be successful without an education? Will there ever be a time when people will stop questioning themselves? Probably not, but I have learned how to keep it all to myself with practice.
Things have been like this for the past month I guess, I have been on an emotional roller coaster dealing with jobs, money, marriage, school, pets, friends, family, even myself. I can't seem to make up my mind anymore, even for simple things like what I should do tonight with the three hours I have to myself. I watched the remains of a movie I never finished, nothing great, and I almost put in another but couldn't pick one. I have about ten I have not yet seen sitting on my shelf, and I rented three classics earlier today, but I couldn't choose which one deserves the slot. This is probably the only time for the next week that I will get the chance to sit down and watch a movie for the next week and I can't pick one to watch. This use to be my passion, watch movies to say that I did. I use to skip homework for this pleasure, even bad stuff like trilogy's that shouldn't have even got the money to start shooting in the first place and romance flicks that never change.
There was a time when I watched movies just because it felt good to watch them, I would see things that intrigued me and things that I thought I could do. It made me want to make movies, and the more I watched the more I wanted it to happen. Somewhere down the line of pursuing that I became very selective about them and now I am just to confused to actually pick. This doesn't mean I have not seen a number of movies lately, I think this last one made five this week, and I have been averaging about one a day for the last few months. It's just that I kind of lost out on the fun part of just watching a film to see what happens, because I immersed myself in the field I know all the backup stuff about the film beforehand. In most cases how it ends, but there has not been a movie that I have seen in the past year that I didn't have a detailed background about before I saw it. And lately I have been tagging along to see films, not that I don't choose what I want to see anymore, but I have been asking what other people want to see as a courtesy for their tastes. So I have seen films on other people's time and telling them more about the movie than they got from the actual screening.
It is pretty weird when I think about it that way, but it's true. I think this has led me to act so uncertain about what I want to see when it is just me choosing. Very strange when I break it down for myself like that, I'm sure it seemed obvious for you but sometimes I just need to talk to myself and figure things out. You were just lucky enough to share with me this time.
All that aside, things have been busy for me again. Not much work and not much writing but classes at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design and spending large amounts of money to support those classes. My mood has been very up and down this past week, but I am glad I took the steps for this and am preparing the way I am because it will be great in the long run. That entails a masters in film production somewhere down the line and right now it is rumored to be somewhere in New York of all places. That is because Suzanne got accepted to dental school there and we both think it would a great place to spend a few years getting an education then returning to the places we know and love to show everyone what we have learned and how we have changed. Minnesota is still an option for us, if they ever get back to us, but we have been thinking a lot about New York lately since they said yes and we have been planning more and more about what we could do there each passing day.
So that's the compacted update as of now. I am still trying to write a few reviews, in particular 'There Will Be Blood' but I need to see it again so that I have some better notes. But when another Great one comes by you will be the first to hear of it.
adieu
Things have been like this for the past month I guess, I have been on an emotional roller coaster dealing with jobs, money, marriage, school, pets, friends, family, even myself. I can't seem to make up my mind anymore, even for simple things like what I should do tonight with the three hours I have to myself. I watched the remains of a movie I never finished, nothing great, and I almost put in another but couldn't pick one. I have about ten I have not yet seen sitting on my shelf, and I rented three classics earlier today, but I couldn't choose which one deserves the slot. This is probably the only time for the next week that I will get the chance to sit down and watch a movie for the next week and I can't pick one to watch. This use to be my passion, watch movies to say that I did. I use to skip homework for this pleasure, even bad stuff like trilogy's that shouldn't have even got the money to start shooting in the first place and romance flicks that never change.
There was a time when I watched movies just because it felt good to watch them, I would see things that intrigued me and things that I thought I could do. It made me want to make movies, and the more I watched the more I wanted it to happen. Somewhere down the line of pursuing that I became very selective about them and now I am just to confused to actually pick. This doesn't mean I have not seen a number of movies lately, I think this last one made five this week, and I have been averaging about one a day for the last few months. It's just that I kind of lost out on the fun part of just watching a film to see what happens, because I immersed myself in the field I know all the backup stuff about the film beforehand. In most cases how it ends, but there has not been a movie that I have seen in the past year that I didn't have a detailed background about before I saw it. And lately I have been tagging along to see films, not that I don't choose what I want to see anymore, but I have been asking what other people want to see as a courtesy for their tastes. So I have seen films on other people's time and telling them more about the movie than they got from the actual screening.
It is pretty weird when I think about it that way, but it's true. I think this has led me to act so uncertain about what I want to see when it is just me choosing. Very strange when I break it down for myself like that, I'm sure it seemed obvious for you but sometimes I just need to talk to myself and figure things out. You were just lucky enough to share with me this time.
All that aside, things have been busy for me again. Not much work and not much writing but classes at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design and spending large amounts of money to support those classes. My mood has been very up and down this past week, but I am glad I took the steps for this and am preparing the way I am because it will be great in the long run. That entails a masters in film production somewhere down the line and right now it is rumored to be somewhere in New York of all places. That is because Suzanne got accepted to dental school there and we both think it would a great place to spend a few years getting an education then returning to the places we know and love to show everyone what we have learned and how we have changed. Minnesota is still an option for us, if they ever get back to us, but we have been thinking a lot about New York lately since they said yes and we have been planning more and more about what we could do there each passing day.
So that's the compacted update as of now. I am still trying to write a few reviews, in particular 'There Will Be Blood' but I need to see it again so that I have some better notes. But when another Great one comes by you will be the first to hear of it.
adieu
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
'The Savages'
It's been a while since I did one of these things, but I guess I have felt that the surge for an award movies kind of left me out of breath with their quantity. There have been a few gems, but nothing that I really felt needed an article on here, with the exception to 'There Will Be Blood' which I am working on currently in long hand.
"The Savages" is quite a unique film about what happens when a middle-aged brother and sister come to terms with their estranged father in need of personal care. The first viewing hit pretty close to home on a few levels, and I felt that I should keep my thoughts to myself at first. But the more I did the more I realized the film tried to accomplish, and I recently saw it for a second time which sparked this excerpt. Phillip Seymour Hoffman does an exceptional job playing himself, I viewed his character as actual actor because it is played down to his gritty and honest level. His clothes, his style of speech, even his never ending stubble screams method acting, but not on the level of Robert De Niro or Al Pacino as they profess today. I am referring to the day when actors worked for a living and invested their life in their characters, big or small. What comes out from this performance is the best depiction of this style of acting I have seem in years. There are rough spots such as when he answers his phone in the middle of a lecture about the difference between plot and narrative to hear that his father went in a coma. But as a whole I have to say wow.
Laura Linney plays his quirky sister that is temping her way to a grant for her play about their childhood. She lies to gain affection from her peers and she feels guilty for putting her father into a nursing home when she is actually doing him a favor by taking care of him in the first place. Her character comes full circle when she is forced to care for her brother as well after a tennis incident that pins him to a wall with weights to balance his joints and relieve stress. It is at this moment that she picks him apart with jealousy about how he is semi-successful and she is 'portable' as her brother words it. In her defense she claims a Guggenheim grant, which he has been denied from a number of times, and all he can do is act amazed that she did something he has continued to fail at. It turns out that this is also a lie, which he discovers, and she boasts that even in her misery he finds a way to mock her ambition.
I guess ambition doesn't amount to much when people lie about their accomplishments, but it all works out in the end because she sells a script and her brother watches a stage call and cries from the realism. Overall, I enjoyed the personal touches and writing between the two, they really play off each-other very well as if they were brother and sister. Their styles of living are very different which makes for a great combo when they are forced together during this time, and the ending is uplifting on a few aspects that would probably be left untouched by conventional writers for purposes of the plot. See this movie when you can, you may not like it at first for the brutal truth that ensues, but after it's over and the days following will make you think about what will happen when you get in this situation. At the very least you will have some experience as to what should happen when you are in their shoes.
"The Savages" is quite a unique film about what happens when a middle-aged brother and sister come to terms with their estranged father in need of personal care. The first viewing hit pretty close to home on a few levels, and I felt that I should keep my thoughts to myself at first. But the more I did the more I realized the film tried to accomplish, and I recently saw it for a second time which sparked this excerpt. Phillip Seymour Hoffman does an exceptional job playing himself, I viewed his character as actual actor because it is played down to his gritty and honest level. His clothes, his style of speech, even his never ending stubble screams method acting, but not on the level of Robert De Niro or Al Pacino as they profess today. I am referring to the day when actors worked for a living and invested their life in their characters, big or small. What comes out from this performance is the best depiction of this style of acting I have seem in years. There are rough spots such as when he answers his phone in the middle of a lecture about the difference between plot and narrative to hear that his father went in a coma. But as a whole I have to say wow.
Laura Linney plays his quirky sister that is temping her way to a grant for her play about their childhood. She lies to gain affection from her peers and she feels guilty for putting her father into a nursing home when she is actually doing him a favor by taking care of him in the first place. Her character comes full circle when she is forced to care for her brother as well after a tennis incident that pins him to a wall with weights to balance his joints and relieve stress. It is at this moment that she picks him apart with jealousy about how he is semi-successful and she is 'portable' as her brother words it. In her defense she claims a Guggenheim grant, which he has been denied from a number of times, and all he can do is act amazed that she did something he has continued to fail at. It turns out that this is also a lie, which he discovers, and she boasts that even in her misery he finds a way to mock her ambition.
I guess ambition doesn't amount to much when people lie about their accomplishments, but it all works out in the end because she sells a script and her brother watches a stage call and cries from the realism. Overall, I enjoyed the personal touches and writing between the two, they really play off each-other very well as if they were brother and sister. Their styles of living are very different which makes for a great combo when they are forced together during this time, and the ending is uplifting on a few aspects that would probably be left untouched by conventional writers for purposes of the plot. See this movie when you can, you may not like it at first for the brutal truth that ensues, but after it's over and the days following will make you think about what will happen when you get in this situation. At the very least you will have some experience as to what should happen when you are in their shoes.
Friday, January 4, 2008
From Detroit to DC on the morning of 12/14
At 30,000 feet one doesn’t expect to see many things that will inspire you aside from the company of strangers. Many people get their life’s work in these situations, and being an aspiring writer I really try to take in this abundance of ideas from outside conversations. However, what really takes my mind away from the thoughts of others is the sun above the clouds, when uncovered it can heat a window to a burning state, even thorough a window shade. And when it rises or sets right in front of your eyes at this height it goes straight to my heart, and there is not much than can top that for inspiration.
At first all you can see is darkness, not even a glimmer of hope on the horizon except endless clouds as your ears continue to pop form the elevation change. A sky of dark blue and gray is all that shows, but softly through an eyelid between the clouds is a faint light to the lucky few that sat on the East side of the plane. It starts with a sliver, this glimmer of hope which grows to be blinding as the sun permeates through the only hole it can find in the darkness of the clouds surrounding the plane, but makes itself known. That bright red grows and stands out like a bleach stain on dark fabric.
Than the hole expands, somehow other slits in the clouds see this and get jealous of its potential beauty. The red stays true, but as the openings expand form this first hole the colors transition to light orange and pink. Slowly the sun still rises to conquer the clouds, and the colors combine to form new shades like a color wheel starting with red. The dark clouds are overthrown now as the colors blend into their white and gray shades.
Still rising, the sun looks to show its face, climbing the horizon to color the sky behind its blood red over the clouds of fuchsia andvalencia
There are a few lofty waves above the clouds that now are revealed as the sun’s rays ignite them, showing how much sky there really is. The blood red is now a dark orange, and the clouds still expand with more shades of lemon and maroon. The bumpy landscape never was so majestic, and all of the crevices and niches are shown in such magnificence that I begin to lose focus on what is going on around me.
At one point there was an annoying baby crying, and a sick man blowing his nose or coughing non-stop, but at this moment in time all sounds are overtaken by the breathtaking view from the plane’s windows. Passengers on the West side of the plane are stretching their necks and standing in the aisle trying to sneak a peek at what usurped the sky, while the other side of the plane just stares in awe with mouths agape.
Just past the original red hole that started it all a slip of something blinding appears between the clouds and the flaming orange background. Anyone who has seen a similar sight knows that at this precise moment the sun begins its ascent on this side of the landscape. The glimmer of it grows, and a circle is beginning to take shape around the shades that keep expanding their stretch. It’s like a rainbow of reds and yellows now that will never end their sightline, and all one can do is squint so as to still view the masterpiece without going blind. That’s the paradox to this setting, it’s so amazing and unbelievable that when it peaks you can’t stare right at it.
Just as the circle is taking its nearly full form I hold my breath to save the moment, forgetting something like this is impossible, but remembering it is questionable, so I gaze closer to the window wiping sweat from my brow. My eyes begin to tear out of pain from the light, and my face is so hot I can feel my skin getting a shade darker.
I want to see it happen so that I know how and when it will end, but at that moment the plane turns right into the light and my story ends.
At first all you can see is darkness, not even a glimmer of hope on the horizon except endless clouds as your ears continue to pop form the elevation change. A sky of dark blue and gray is all that shows, but softly through an eyelid between the clouds is a faint light to the lucky few that sat on the East side of the plane. It starts with a sliver, this glimmer of hope which grows to be blinding as the sun permeates through the only hole it can find in the darkness of the clouds surrounding the plane, but makes itself known. That bright red grows and stands out like a bleach stain on dark fabric.
Than the hole expands, somehow other slits in the clouds see this and get jealous of its potential beauty. The red stays true, but as the openings expand form this first hole the colors transition to light orange and pink. Slowly the sun still rises to conquer the clouds, and the colors combine to form new shades like a color wheel starting with red. The dark clouds are overthrown now as the colors blend into their white and gray shades.
Still rising, the sun looks to show its face, climbing the horizon to color the sky behind its blood red over the clouds of fuchsia and
There are a few lofty waves above the clouds that now are revealed as the sun’s rays ignite them, showing how much sky there really is. The blood red is now a dark orange, and the clouds still expand with more shades of lemon and maroon. The bumpy landscape never was so majestic, and all of the crevices and niches are shown in such magnificence that I begin to lose focus on what is going on around me.
At one point there was an annoying baby crying, and a sick man blowing his nose or coughing non-stop, but at this moment in time all sounds are overtaken by the breathtaking view from the plane’s windows. Passengers on the West side of the plane are stretching their necks and standing in the aisle trying to sneak a peek at what usurped the sky, while the other side of the plane just stares in awe with mouths agape.
Just past the original red hole that started it all a slip of something blinding appears between the clouds and the flaming orange background. Anyone who has seen a similar sight knows that at this precise moment the sun begins its ascent on this side of the landscape. The glimmer of it grows, and a circle is beginning to take shape around the shades that keep expanding their stretch. It’s like a rainbow of reds and yellows now that will never end their sightline, and all one can do is squint so as to still view the masterpiece without going blind. That’s the paradox to this setting, it’s so amazing and unbelievable that when it peaks you can’t stare right at it.
Just as the circle is taking its nearly full form I hold my breath to save the moment, forgetting something like this is impossible, but remembering it is questionable, so I gaze closer to the window wiping sweat from my brow. My eyes begin to tear out of pain from the light, and my face is so hot I can feel my skin getting a shade darker.
I want to see it happen so that I know how and when it will end, but at that moment the plane turns right into the light and my story ends.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
catching up with myself
I never really intended for this to be a journal entry, so to speak, but it seems that every thought that I consider adding here is more or less is linked to me in some way. I am trying to make these seem more from a journalism standpoint, but all that comes out are stories with me in them. However, I have been reading a number of magazines lately due to my excessive traveling, and have come to the conclusion that all articles that are not news related, as in magazines or weekly newspaper columnists, are created around the idea or story about how the author got involved with the person they are interviewing or topic they are commenting on. It seems pretty obvious, but it didn't cross my mind until I read an interview with Tim Burton that began and ended with the writer's personal connection to the director. Consequently, I got more from that article reading those connections to Mr. Burton rather than the actual interview. Its not that I know more about Mr. Burton than the average person, until then I didn't know he was married to Helena Bohnam Carter, but I just took the question-answer session to be more of a how did it all begin or what made it come together breakdown. It was almost spoon fed to me, I think the magazine edited the article down for content purposes because there were some weird transitions from question to question. But overall, I didn't enjoy that part at all, I was rather taken on how Mr. Burton touched the writer with film after film about suburbia and his relation to his father being similar to Mr. Burton's.
After that article I looked at what I was reading differently and thought for a moment, only that long, that what I am trying to write on here could be considered for an article in a magazine purely on the writing style. I would have to tie in some sort of connection to current events, well the 'How Old Is Your Mind' would probably work on its own, but they are actual stories on their own and could hold their own. This gave me a little more hope about the future of writing, since I keep trying to conform to what people want to read or word things a certain way. With this in mind I think it will be a little easier to write on here, at least I hope so, and I will try to make it more entertaining as opposed to me complaining about something.
In the last two weeks I have been from New York, to Minneapolis, to Rochester, to Fargo, and back to Minneapolis, which is more traveling than I would probably do in a given year. There were reasons for all of these trips, well Fargo was to catch up with a friend during a few days I had off, but the rest were for family and the future prospect of living. During each trip I was fortunate enough to explore the area and take in the city, I have been to New York a number of times as well as Rochester, and each city is entertaining in its own respect.
Manhattan has its own time frame in my mind, not that they set their clocks differently, but it is a city that covers less space than most areas large enough to call themselves a city, and this one houses over eight million people. Its the 3rd dimention that makes this possible, which is also what draws so many people to its heart. the expression 'only in america' probably originated from there, and that is true in so many levels. I never thought so many franchises could pop up in a one mile radius as they do there, and it never occured how long a block really could be. I guess I never thought of what goes into designing a city aside from an architect, but this place never ceases to amaze me. A couple of semesters ago I was told the origin of the name of the city, settlers found the island inhabited by native americans and they were friendly enough to host their visit with food and drinks. The drinks flowed that night to such an extent that the settlers stayed the night to recover from the powerful alcohol of the native americans, and when they went back to the land and met with them again they came up with the title man-hat-tanna in the locals' language, which translates to 'the land where we got drunk.' Now I'm not trying to say thats all that is there anymore, but it is a catchy story, obivously since that is all I remember from that class. The city itself revolves around its own time frame because it essentially never sleeps, hence the other name for it. You can probably get anything you want at any time of the day there without much hassle simply because in a place like that somebody will stay open for it. It is probably the most expensive place to live on average in the whole country, which is why so many people there have multiple jobs. There are things to do on every street from arts and culture, to science and history. This place is so big that it is proken into sub-parts, some of which have their own lifestyle on their own.
All of that for one weekend and I was back in the moderately sized city of Minneapolis, which has a lot to do on its own and technically has its own parts if you consider directional shifts. The only differance is that I wouldn't go all the way to North Minneapolis for a shirt or pizza since the distance doesn't seem worth the effort. Whereas in Manhattan, I would travel from the Upper West Side to Littly Italy just for the pizza, and I would shop in SoHo just to say I was there. Thats the differance between big city like Manhattan and a city like Minneapolis, there are countless things to do and people to see but in the end the distance rules out most based on the time it take to get there in a smaller city. Not only that but Minneapolis is the type of place that tries to reach its citizens on a larger context, take the news and how it can cover the whole city here but certain areas in New York just don't get the play on a city-wide level. A while back I went there and came back thinking that I could never live there because the city doesn't give people the chance to survive, at some point people will take you for granted or arvantage of you because you are less than them, and it sort of scared me because I never thought of that about Minnepolis. This trip was a little different beause it was much shorter, and the weather limited my productivity, but in the end I had a massive craving for the sound of 'Radiohead' while I was there. I'm nto sure what thats worth, but it felt like something important to me.
Rochester on the other hand is a smaller city, and I viewed Fargo the same way, as the big city surrounded by farms. It is the place where those farmers go to get a taste of what is new in the world, like shopping or museums. Each city is surrounded by numerous strip malls with local people trying to make a name for themselves, and most of them have been there since birth with no excuse for getting out aside from a career prospect. It struck me as a very odd place to live when I first went to Rochester since I grew up just outside Minnepolis and have always been use to seeing this city as perfect. But below the surface it was the little things that made it stand out to me, such as the much stronger ties to religion or the obsession with country music. I never really experienced that in Minnepaolis, but it is everywhere in places like Rochester and Fargo. The one thing that I could nevere understand about places like that is how a club or bar can play a rap song followed by a country song without skipping a beat. It just doesn't make sense how their culture accepts things unknown to me like this, or can oversee it without noticing the dramatic change in the mood or setting. You can just look at the city from the highway and tell they are completly different based on their traffic and housing, but it just goes to show that growing up somewhere does have its affect of people.
After that article I looked at what I was reading differently and thought for a moment, only that long, that what I am trying to write on here could be considered for an article in a magazine purely on the writing style. I would have to tie in some sort of connection to current events, well the 'How Old Is Your Mind' would probably work on its own, but they are actual stories on their own and could hold their own. This gave me a little more hope about the future of writing, since I keep trying to conform to what people want to read or word things a certain way. With this in mind I think it will be a little easier to write on here, at least I hope so, and I will try to make it more entertaining as opposed to me complaining about something.
In the last two weeks I have been from New York, to Minneapolis, to Rochester, to Fargo, and back to Minneapolis, which is more traveling than I would probably do in a given year. There were reasons for all of these trips, well Fargo was to catch up with a friend during a few days I had off, but the rest were for family and the future prospect of living. During each trip I was fortunate enough to explore the area and take in the city, I have been to New York a number of times as well as Rochester, and each city is entertaining in its own respect.
Manhattan has its own time frame in my mind, not that they set their clocks differently, but it is a city that covers less space than most areas large enough to call themselves a city, and this one houses over eight million people. Its the 3rd dimention that makes this possible, which is also what draws so many people to its heart. the expression 'only in america' probably originated from there, and that is true in so many levels. I never thought so many franchises could pop up in a one mile radius as they do there, and it never occured how long a block really could be. I guess I never thought of what goes into designing a city aside from an architect, but this place never ceases to amaze me. A couple of semesters ago I was told the origin of the name of the city, settlers found the island inhabited by native americans and they were friendly enough to host their visit with food and drinks. The drinks flowed that night to such an extent that the settlers stayed the night to recover from the powerful alcohol of the native americans, and when they went back to the land and met with them again they came up with the title man-hat-tanna in the locals' language, which translates to 'the land where we got drunk.' Now I'm not trying to say thats all that is there anymore, but it is a catchy story, obivously since that is all I remember from that class. The city itself revolves around its own time frame because it essentially never sleeps, hence the other name for it. You can probably get anything you want at any time of the day there without much hassle simply because in a place like that somebody will stay open for it. It is probably the most expensive place to live on average in the whole country, which is why so many people there have multiple jobs. There are things to do on every street from arts and culture, to science and history. This place is so big that it is proken into sub-parts, some of which have their own lifestyle on their own.
All of that for one weekend and I was back in the moderately sized city of Minneapolis, which has a lot to do on its own and technically has its own parts if you consider directional shifts. The only differance is that I wouldn't go all the way to North Minneapolis for a shirt or pizza since the distance doesn't seem worth the effort. Whereas in Manhattan, I would travel from the Upper West Side to Littly Italy just for the pizza, and I would shop in SoHo just to say I was there. Thats the differance between big city like Manhattan and a city like Minneapolis, there are countless things to do and people to see but in the end the distance rules out most based on the time it take to get there in a smaller city. Not only that but Minneapolis is the type of place that tries to reach its citizens on a larger context, take the news and how it can cover the whole city here but certain areas in New York just don't get the play on a city-wide level. A while back I went there and came back thinking that I could never live there because the city doesn't give people the chance to survive, at some point people will take you for granted or arvantage of you because you are less than them, and it sort of scared me because I never thought of that about Minnepolis. This trip was a little different beause it was much shorter, and the weather limited my productivity, but in the end I had a massive craving for the sound of 'Radiohead' while I was there. I'm nto sure what thats worth, but it felt like something important to me.
Rochester on the other hand is a smaller city, and I viewed Fargo the same way, as the big city surrounded by farms. It is the place where those farmers go to get a taste of what is new in the world, like shopping or museums. Each city is surrounded by numerous strip malls with local people trying to make a name for themselves, and most of them have been there since birth with no excuse for getting out aside from a career prospect. It struck me as a very odd place to live when I first went to Rochester since I grew up just outside Minnepolis and have always been use to seeing this city as perfect. But below the surface it was the little things that made it stand out to me, such as the much stronger ties to religion or the obsession with country music. I never really experienced that in Minnepaolis, but it is everywhere in places like Rochester and Fargo. The one thing that I could nevere understand about places like that is how a club or bar can play a rap song followed by a country song without skipping a beat. It just doesn't make sense how their culture accepts things unknown to me like this, or can oversee it without noticing the dramatic change in the mood or setting. You can just look at the city from the highway and tell they are completly different based on their traffic and housing, but it just goes to show that growing up somewhere does have its affect of people.
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