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.