On comes another year (and the regret of the last)

2011 has very little time left.  Of that we can all be sure.  Much of the world has already crossed over the threshold of 12 A.M. and are now reining in the new year with joy and hope for the future.  Some are making their resolutions and some are drinking until they forget 2011.  Hell, some who are still in 2011 are doing that.

I for one am excited for the new year.  There is so much to look forward to, whether it be movies, books, vacations, or the unknown.  My big plan for the coming year is to be here in Chicago, which will happen soon enough.  But as always, looking forward shouldn't be the only thing we pay our respects to at this time of year.

No, I believe we should also look back.  We should remember the mistakes we have made, the promises we have broken, our successes, our failures, our regrets, and anything else that will attribute to the way we will think this coming year.

My biggest regret, and also my greatest learning experience, is transferring to the college I am currently attending.  A year ago, I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life.  I was silently crying for some sort of sign, of which none that I could see had appeared.  So I transferred schools.  I left my arts school, my city, some friends, and some lessons learned, behind.  I journeyed off on my own, I guess you could say.  I went into a depression.

But things picked up a little bit.  I got into my studies, met some people, joined groups and all that normal college stuff.  I worked every other day for 10 hours, which was nice for the pay check but bad for my whole do what I want when I want hopes (This part didn't help much with the depression either, in case you were wondering.).

Being that going to UWGB (University of Wisconsin-Green Bay) was my biggest regret, I can't tell you that I am ever really happy going there.  Really, being in Green Bay was kind of a downer.  I missed the tall buildings that Green Bay just didn't have.  I missed that fierce wind that Chicago gains its nickname.  I missed not having to drive whenever I had to go somewhere.  But, most of all, I missed the contact I had with people.

It was, however, a great learning experience, probably the biggest one of 2011.  I really started to grow up and gained some responsibilities.  But now I get to look forward, like the rest of us, to hopeful change and to a brighter world.  I know what I am going to be doing this coming year, where I will be headed in 2012, because of my mistakes over these last 364 days.

I am officially titling my 2011 "The year of mistakes" and naming my 2012 "The year to prosper".

Good night and Happy New Year!!!!

Sex and the world

What is with America and the rest of the world these days???  TV shows are dedicated to teenagers that are pregnant.  Hollywood and magazines and God knows what else glorify sex in ways that have never been seen before.  Music is filled with songs about people who have one night stands and say that they are in love... and then break up or cheat on that person two days later.  Our culture has been trounced from the high minded, morally driven, art and science based culture to that of the basic cravings of the flesh.  Of "pleasure".

Why does it have to be like this.  I am sick of it.  I don't enjoy turning on the TV for 5 minutes and have sex shoved in my face on networks that are supposed to be family friendly.  I don't like driving from my apartment to my job and seeing images and phrases that remind me of all that crap.  IT IS ANNOYING!!!!!!!

When did this change occur?  During the Renaissance, we had a burst of art and science.  Of creativity and vision.  A cultural revolution like never before!!  Sure, there was sex.  I have read letters by Niccolo Machiavelli that describe his fall to the temptation of flesh.... and then I, with a majority of my class, wanted to puke up every bloody organ in our bodies.  But for the most part, sex didn't seem like much of a talk about thing, with the exception of tavern talk.  And those nude paintings don't equate themselves to today's porn.  It was art, not a nude picture sold behind a Taco Bell for 50 bucks.

The sex references then and the sex references now are two totally different things.  What we see now, what would have been called obscene, is normal.  TV talks about masturbation, something that used to be a very private matter, and makes jokes about it.  Main characters are based around how many women they can have sex with in one episode.  These types of TV shows would have earned themselves disbandment thirty years ago.

Starz and HBO broadcast sex in almost all the shows I have seen them produce.  And then, when that wasn't quite risque enough, they moved to gay sex.  Now that scared the hell out of me when came up in one of my, then, favorite TV shows.

Magazines.  Movies.  Video games.  College theater.  Bill boards.  Songs.  Celebrities.  And let's not forget all the porn over the internet.  Millions of websites are devoted to that one... and so many of them are free!  And the ads about finding a girl or guy in your area for a night of fun.  Or the indirect references to sex.  Sex is glorified!  And some people wonder how I can retreat into a book any time, anywhere.

Why does it seem so easy for us to just be consumed by it?  There was once a time, not that long ago even, that if a guy wanted sex, he either had to talk a girl into it or wait for his dad to bring him to a local prostitution ring,  That prostitution ring can now basically be found in a high school!  Haven't you heard of waiting for that right person... THE ONE YOU MARRY?  Doesn't it seem like cheating on that person?  It sounds like it to me.  And if not for the idea of cheating on the person, how about the threat of pregnancy?  Believe it or not, having sex raises your chances of getting pregnant.  That is a whole other blog post though.

But I can't expect any less of a world like this.  A world where we can hardly take blame for anything.  A world where we let people who lie to us take a political office and then, when those who didn't lie to us start making waves, call for them to leave office.   A world where we can't even learn the truth about our own countries history?  Where everything that shouldn't be sugar-coated is and everything that isn't should be.

SCREW YOU WORLD!!!!! I am going to sleep and dream of a place much better than this planet.

Oh, and please leave comments about what you think.  I enjoy reading these, not for praise, but to figure out if I am reaching readers in the best way that I can.  Thanks =D

Short stories and how they are the Devil's children

So I had to read short stories for a class at Columbia last year and then write an essay about it.  Easy right?  Maybe even enjoyable!!!

No, I was dead wrong on the enjoyable part.  I hated, absolutely HATED, the two stories we had to actually read ('Hills Like White Elephants' by Hemingway and 'Lady With the Pet Dog' by Anton Chekhov).  And, since I really don't have much else to write about tonight, I guess I will let you guys enjoy my award winning essay.  Enjoy!!!

 Short stories. There are all different types. Stories that are short, stories that are long, stories that seem to make no sense, and stories that make a lot of sense.

One of the stories that makes no sense is 'Hills Like White Elephants'. I have no clue what was going on in the story. It began with a description of the landscape, and goes on for about a paragraph in that manner. Then, Hemingway dropped almost all description that was not in dialogue form.

After the descriptive paragraph the story goes right into the characters. The woman in the story is worried about some surgery, of which remains nameless, that will “allow air in.” She goes back and forth about needing it, and if her husband or boyfriend or man-friend (the difference being is that one constitutes dating and the other constitutes sex and secretiveness, which doesn't seem very likely) will continue to love her after the surgery.

The man continues to reassure her that everything will be fine. He tells her that he will love her, and the only thing that is keeping the away from being in anymore love would be the ailment or whatever the surgery is going to fix. Eventually, the man tells her that if she doesn't want to go through with the surgery, she doesn't have to.

They are soon told that the train they are waiting for will arrive in the next few minutes, so the man takes their bags to what I can only assume is a baggage dock.

When he returns, I became really confused. He approaches her at a table, where she is just sitting there smiling at him, and he asks “how are you feeling.” She responds with “I feel fine. There is nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.”

What the hell happened to the argument they were getting into. Did she just magically become healthy? Is she just telling him that she is okay so she doesn't have to go through with some surgery? We have no answer, and I really hate it when short stories end like this. I like having the answers when I am finished, and that is exactly what has not been done.

My mind is now a black, swirling abyss of unanswered questions, and it is starting to take control of my thoughts. Well, not really, but when I was reading, I couldn't figure out what was going on, and it (along with my roommate talking to me) made it very hard to concentrate. And so to Mr. Hemingway, I say this... I now HATE you.

In the Lady with the Pet Dog by Anton Chekhov, Gurov, a unfaithful bartender who frequently leaves his family, and Anna, a woman who seems to regret marrying her husband, become attracted to each other.

They met at a vacation spot in the city of Yalta, and started to spend a lot of time together, which starts to put their feelings in motion. They eventually start to get intimate with each other, though before anything to major happens, Anna has a nervous breakdown of sorts, and doesn't want to advance because they would be sinful ways. They split after Anna's husband called her back. He had eye problems or something.

Gurov begins his normal routine again, but soon starts to think of Anna, something that he has never done for the “inferior race” as he calls women.

He soon leaves his wife and children again, using the excuse of having work in St. Petersburg, the home of one Anna Sergeyevna. He finds her address, and decides to go pay Anna a visit, but chickens out as he is practically on the front door step. I wonder if he really even truly cares for her at this point, since he didn't even knock and talk to her.

The two meet at the premier of The Geisha, a show the author himself saw in the city of Yalta, Russia. He approaches Anna after the first act, when her husband is out for a smoke, and Anna runs away, scared. He catches up to her, and she begs him to go away and that she will see him in Moscow.

She meets up with him, and he starts to wonder whether he is in love with her. They start to make plans for the future, but we are unfortunately left in the dark on the plans. I hate this.

So it isn't actually award winning.  I did, however, get some praise for it.  Thanks class!!!!!!!  

To the vault!!!!!!

I found out some very disappointing news this week.  Although, disappointing really does say what I really want it to.  This is about as vexing (great word, right?) to me as the dropping of "Fat Man" on Nagasaki during World War II.

This arch also stayed standing after the earthquake this year.
The Japanese really know how to build arches.

So I haven't even told you what is bothering me, have I?  So earlier this week I saw a post on a Facebook group I am in about Harry Potter.  The admin of the group posted a link about a big step for the Harry Potter Film franchise.  As of December 29th, all HP films will be taken off store shelves and being put into that vault that movies are put in... like Disney movies.

This bothers me, not because I am a big Harry Potter fan...

Not that big.

... but because the newest Harry Potter movie will only be released Novemeber 11th.  That means that the different versions of this movie, that is standard edition, special edition, and (I think they will release one) the collector's edition.

I think this is just some money making scheme.  Even though it is now the highest grossing movie series ever, somehow Warner Brothers still needs to trick us all into paying out our money as fast as possible so that we can go spend our money quickly.  At least they waited until holiday season to do this, right?

Although WB is probably going to say that they are removing it off the shelves so that they can re-release the series for a limited time so that future generations can see Harry Potter, which is what Disney Studios is doing with their classic cartoon movies.   

I don't really understand why though.  Harry Potter has so many die-hard fans that will introduce their children to Harry Potter, I confess that I am one of those fans (one of each book to every one of my future children), that they really don't need to worry about Harry Potter being known down the road.  This series has already been considered as one of the future timeless classics, like The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn are today.  

Well I feel a little bit better now that I have gotten my feelings out in the open about this.  Now excuse me as I go wait in line for the midnight release of both Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 and Inheritance by Christopher Paolini, which actually comes out November 8th.  I guess I will be sitting outside my nearest Walmart or Barnes and Noble for a few days.

  

   

And you will see me at Gamestop for this.

Inspiration

Wow, it has been a little while since I last posted.  I can actually here the rust in my fingers being worked off by my typing.  And you know what the worse part of tonight this is?  Not the fact that I am working the rust off.  No, it's the fact that I really don't know what to write about.  I figure if I start to just write randomly, I may actually get into a subject... hmmm.  I need some inspiration.  Oh!  I know!  I'll talk about inspiration tonight!  Sound good?  I think so.

So I have had numerous inspirations in my life.  I have been inspired by music, by posters, death (sad but true), Facebook statuses (I really think we rely on Facebook a little too much these days... maybe I will write a post on that), television, and, this one surprises me (and I feel slightly endangered by it), driving down the highway.

Now, for that last one, one may ask "Hey Nathan, why is driving down the highway both inspiring and dangerous for you."  To anyone who might ask that, I will tell you "Well (insert questioner's name here), when I drive and get bored, I start to think.  And when I start to think, I day dream.  I focus enough on the road to keep myself from hitting anyone.  Other than the thought that I could run off the road, there really isn't much of a problem."

Also, when you are inspired by one of the items mentioned (or not mentioned) above, does your mind stay on that topic?  If you see a picture of Fergie (I don't know if I spelled her name right), do you continue to think about Fergie?

This is the least offensive picture I could find.
Does it say something about her if the best picture was a face shot?

Well I don't. I may see that picture and my mind could jump to a story of a man in the North Pole that was just abandoned by his crew and had to fend off a ravenous Polar Bear so that he could survive.  And who knows, a fish or steak or aliens may pop into the day dreaming too.  I would really be interested to see how my mind actually comes up with these things and if it is natural to jump to those ideas from a picture which has absolutely nothing to do with the thought.

Well, I think that is all for the night.  Thanks for reading!!!! =D

P.S.  To those of you who read the title and wonder why it has to do with tonight's post, I actually made that after I wrote all of this...

My writing and the blogs

So I have noticed something about my writing lately.  It flows easily when I am just writing.  No facts, just opinions.  But once I try to introduce some actual research into my posts, I get insanely bored.

Think of it like this.  When I just write, like what I am doing right now and what I have done on my other posts, creativity is like a flowing river, it doesn't stop.  But when I introduce research, at least those dealing with statistics, it becomes dammed. The flow is just stopped and my head is over run with ideas that have no way to get out.  CURSE YOU STATISTICS!!!!!

I guess I should work on that.  Or maybe I should try researching other factoids first.  Like mythology.  It doesn't involve statistics, and, let's face it, if you know me, you know that I love, LOVE, mythology and everything that comes with it.

And now, so that this post isn't totally wasted, being as how it is very short, here are some Doctor Who related pictures for you.  :)

I understand how this cat feels.

And that is my Sonic screwdriver, because everything could use more sonic.

Thanks for reading and for understanding my nerdiness.

Death

“I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid." - John 14:27


So yesterday was an emotional day for my family and a majority of my home town.  We had the wake of a man who had meant much to each of us.  He was a father of two daughters, our local UPS man, a wonderful carpenter, and a great friend.  His name was Lloyd Lange.

While I personally didn't know him all that well, one of his daughters was a friend of mine, and, because I knew the troubles her family has had, I felt emotional over his death.

No, I didn't cry, I didn't start having life crises or start thinking about my own mortality.  I just became distracted.  I busied myself with activities such as reading, writing, and, for some reason, cleaning.  I also started thinking.  I thought about how lucky I am to be alive and how, if I had been in so many places just a few seconds earlier or later, I wouldn't be.

It's amazing how death makes you grateful for things.  I, personally, am so grateful for my friends, family, and  even the people that I am not too fond of.  I can't imagine where I would be right now, what I could be doing, if I had never met these people.  Would I still be writing?  Would I have ever became as obsessed with reading?  Would I be in college or working in my parent's machine shop?  There are just too many what ifs for me to keep posting them.

I'll leave you with this.  What are you grateful for?  Knowing that life doesn't last forever, will you go and talk to that friend that you haven't seen in a while?  Will you go and look at the stars?  Realize how small we really are?  Take the trip you have been wanting to take?  Whatever it is, I hope you have the chance to do it.

R.I.P.  Lloyd Lange, you will be missed.
And prayers for his family.

My Dream. The Beginning, The Pause, and The Play

For the longest time, I have wanted to be a fiction author.  Not sure why.  I just did.  Maybe it was just my version of being a rebel.  Nothing says rebel more than sitting with a notebook and pencil and creating a story, right???

Anyway, last year I had the chance to actually start practicing my dream.  I went to Columbia College Chicago for, wait can you guess it?  If you answered fiction writing, congrats.  If you're answer was underwater basket weaving, sorry, that major is still in the works.

It was great.  I didn't just expand my horizons by being in Chicago (I'm from a corn field), I could actually see improvement in my writing.  Stories became longer without much force.  People seemed to enjoy what I wrote.  I was told that I was really good with getting into the details, which is apparently important.  I even made it through a whole semester of classes without freaking about how being at an art school was going to cause problems for my future and how I wouldn't be able to make it in the business.  I left that for my parents to tell me.

Actually, the making it in the business thing was a lie.  I was worried.  Self-doubt consumed me each and every time I opened my word processor.  But what could I do?  This was my dream.  It had been my dream since I picked up my first chapter book, Harry Potter.

And if the doubt itself wasn't enough, I received the grade for my most important class of the semester, Fiction Writing 1.  I got a C-.  A freaking C-!!!  To put it lightly, it hurt.  The grade put me into a mild depression, made me feel small.  Insignificant.  So I had to repeat the class, which, thinking back, was good for me.

My ideas for stories changed over Christmas break.  My writing style changed.  I was pretty much a different person.  I spoke up more in class (I think being quiet was the downfall of my first class).  I worked on my stories sooner, not much sooner, but a day was better than a few hours.  Low and behold, I finished the class with both an A and a recommendation to be in Fiction Writing 2.  Not too shabby, right?  Now what I assume you are going to be thinking is that I would return to the city, take my classes, and continue on until I graduate. eventually becoming the starving, drunkard artist... kind of like Hemingway, just without the success, I imagine.

Instead, I transferred.  Gasp! Right?  Why would I give up the chance to fulfill my dream?  I was already on the path, why deviate from it?  Well, I got scared.  That C- I wrote about earlier, it dug deep into my soul, poisoning my thoughts about what I might be able to do for a future.  It still does, as a matter of fact.  Then you add the talks about how students come out of school with debts as costing as much as a mansion in the '50s, parents who want 'best' for their kids, and anything else that could go wrong.  All of that and more was going through my head.

So I transferred.  Went someplace that was supposedly safe.  Cheap compared to Columbia.  Closer to home.  Boring.  Depressing.  You can insert other words that describe the makings of a terrible future.  Or you can call it what it is, University of Wisconsin-Green Bay.  I can't even decide on a major!  And the classes... don't even get me started on the classes I have to attend everyday.  I have to fight to stay awake, let alone actually learning the material.  Facts come into my head and I really have nothing to show for it.  They may even go leave from the left ear, it's been feeling clogged lately...

I used to write. Create.  It made being in school worth while.  I learned and retained! the information that was being dished to us.  My history classes would inspire in me some actual stories.  You ever wonder what it was like to befriend a famous historical figure?  I bet I had a story in my head to give you their entire damn life, seen through someone else's eyes.

I think I am done with boring.  I stopped caring if I am going to be screwed if I go to an arts school.  I'm screwed if I stay here.  I'm screwed if I drop out all together and travel.  I'm screwed if I go into the military (I'm not exactly the type of person to be in the military anyways. GO PEACE!).  Because of previous generations, I am screwed.  If you are reading this and are a high schooler, college student, or graduate, you are probably screwed.  And it is all the baby-boomers fault.  But, at least for me, I am going to take something from them.

You're parents ever tell you to follow your dreams?  Reach for the stars?  Anything like that?  Well, I think it's time to start taking some of that advice.  That is why I will probably be returning to Chicago, to Columbia, no matter what others tell me.

 After all, I'm screwed one way or another.  I might as well enjoy myself getting there.