He had to do it, right? This wouldn't make him a bad person? He was only ten. That's too young to be all the way bad, right? He had years and years to go before he was all the way bad. He was sure of it.
He remembered the feel of the gun in his hand. Heavier than he expected. Cold. Solid. Permanent, like the weight on his chest. It jerked in his hand, jumped like a creature trying to escape. He held on tight, even though he thought it was going to drag him backwards.
He stumbled against the wall, but was up fast, in case he had to shoot again, in case he missed. In case the monster wasn't dead. And there and then, that thought is what made it bearable. It was a monster he killed, not a man. Not a living human, but a monster that had terrified and terrorized him and everyone he loved for years. Too many years of fear and hiding and running and pain.
Too many years. All the years his young mind could recall were filled with this monster. With his big heavy hands. And his hard shoes. And his hard words. No. This wasn't a man at all. This was a dragon, he told himself.
He tried to ignore the blood. It was everywhere, even on him. Just a dragon, he thought again. He wiped his face, smearing blood and tears and grime across his cheeks. Just a dragon. And he was a knight. A hero. He had done his job.
He put his arm around the girl. He didn't know who she was. The dragon had probably stolen her too. She was small, his age maybe. But so small, and fragile, like a bird. The dragon would have broke her. He put a hand on her shaking shoulder.
"It's ok. He can't hurt you now." He pushed her toward the door. "Let's go. We need to get out of here. What's your name?"
She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She shook worse, her eyes lingering on the motionless body. She was going to start screaming. If she did, he would too and he may never stop. He blocked her view of the dragon, took her shoulders and shook them.
"Hey," he shouted in her face. "Hey! You hungry? I bet you're hungry right? Let's get something to eat!" The words tumbled out of him. They were all nonsense and babbling and falsely bright. What he said didn't matter. He just needed to hear something other than her panic. Other than the gunshot that kept echoing in his head.
He pushed her as he talked about hot dogs and barbecues and frozen lemonade and running through sprinklers. Things he knew nothing about. By the time he got to roller coasters he had gotten her out of the building. She was still shaking, but she was now focused on him. Good. He was running out of lies. Shouts behind him made them both jump.
"Can you run?" The girl nodded and they ran into the night. Away from the dragon's lair, away from monsters. They were free.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
This Is Why...
You’re explaining things that can’t be defended, and the explanations themselves are mad, just bizarre. It was because she kept a chain on the door; it was because he needed to let off steam after a hard day’s scraping and bowing at work; it was because she lied to him; it was because of this, because of that. It’s obscene to make such things reasonable. -Helen Oyeyemi
I don't usually do this publicly but something has made me so angry that I can't think of anything else. Right now, YES. I am an angry black woman. I'm going to tell you why.
I've never labelled myself as an activist, or feminist, or anything other than Spitfire really. However, living life as a woman and as a geek you tend to notice things. Things like society values "Me" a little less than it values "He".
Girl geeks and women in general have become much more vocal about this inequality lately. I've been sitting in front of the computer screen nodding along with them. Agreeing, albeit silently. Gail Simone coining "Women In Refrigerators"? Yep. That got the head bop. #yesallwomen? Uh huh. Still nodding because TRUE. #youOKSis? Yes indeed, fist raised in solidarity. All in silence. Then Elliot Rogers happened. (http://nypost.com/2014/05/25/virgin-gunman-vowed-sorority-sluts-must-die-before-rampage/)
And it was all explained away. Swept under the rug of "mental illness" without mention of the male entitlement and misogynistic views that were taught to him over the years via every media outlet ever. These are beliefs that are held by a LARGE majority of men. As can be witnessed by the tweets and youtube comments stating that "giving it up can save lives". Sigh.
After that, along came Ray Rice, and his wife (then fiance), and an elevator, and a slew of defenses made on his behalf by otherwise right-thinking individuals.
Yet still, I only nodded along in agreement as allies made points that I thought were glaringly obvious. Allies like Keith Olbermann:
"You don't do that. Because by some tiny amount each one of those things lowers the level of basic human respect for women..." _Keith Olbermann
And I would have stayed silent, believing that everything I felt had already been said by more eloquent people. HOWEVER, when I see men I know personally express views like "she showed no signs of serious abuse" when speaking of a woman who was knocked unconscious and dumped on the floor, I feel like some things bear repeating.
Even the smallest instance of misogyny, the slightest offhand joke, the snickering internal agreement adds to the MONOLITHIC oppression of half of society. These little things give it power. They are the enforcers of injustice. They are the cops that put common sense in a choke hold.
I don't usually do this publicly but something has made me so angry that I can't think of anything else. Right now, YES. I am an angry black woman. I'm going to tell you why.
I've never labelled myself as an activist, or feminist, or anything other than Spitfire really. However, living life as a woman and as a geek you tend to notice things. Things like society values "Me" a little less than it values "He".
Girl geeks and women in general have become much more vocal about this inequality lately. I've been sitting in front of the computer screen nodding along with them. Agreeing, albeit silently. Gail Simone coining "Women In Refrigerators"? Yep. That got the head bop. #yesallwomen? Uh huh. Still nodding because TRUE. #youOKSis? Yes indeed, fist raised in solidarity. All in silence. Then Elliot Rogers happened. (http://nypost.com/2014/05/25/virgin-gunman-vowed-sorority-sluts-must-die-before-rampage/)
And it was all explained away. Swept under the rug of "mental illness" without mention of the male entitlement and misogynistic views that were taught to him over the years via every media outlet ever. These are beliefs that are held by a LARGE majority of men. As can be witnessed by the tweets and youtube comments stating that "giving it up can save lives". Sigh.
After that, along came Ray Rice, and his wife (then fiance), and an elevator, and a slew of defenses made on his behalf by otherwise right-thinking individuals.
Yet still, I only nodded along in agreement as allies made points that I thought were glaringly obvious. Allies like Keith Olbermann:
"You don't do that. Because by some tiny amount each one of those things lowers the level of basic human respect for women..." _Keith Olbermann
And I would have stayed silent, believing that everything I felt had already been said by more eloquent people. HOWEVER, when I see men I know personally express views like "she showed no signs of serious abuse" when speaking of a woman who was knocked unconscious and dumped on the floor, I feel like some things bear repeating.
Even the smallest instance of misogyny, the slightest offhand joke, the snickering internal agreement adds to the MONOLITHIC oppression of half of society. These little things give it power. They are the enforcers of injustice. They are the cops that put common sense in a choke hold.
The Monolith is made up of ALL OF THOSE TINY THINGS. ALL of those tiny things are behind every instance of street harassment and catcalling. It's not a compliment. All those tiny things are the reason "his" check is larger than mine even though we do the same job. All those tiny things are behind every date rape. All those tiny things are behind every cunt or bitch comment on a youtube video. All those tiny things are behind every insult hurled when she doesn't respond to you calling her sexy. All those tiny things are behind every woman who escaped and DIDN'T escape domestic violence. All those tiny things are behind every "she shouldn't have provoked it" statement. Every slur hurled, Every punch thrown, every law passed about my body, every time I have to watch my back because I'm walking alone, EVERY JUSTIFICATION created for "him" has the weight of the monolith behind it.
Is this really that hard to understand?
Also, can someone please explain to me what constitutes "serious abuse"???? Please enlighten me? So, what you're saying is that because it only took one punch to knock her out that it's not really that serious??? Approximately how many bruises would she require before it was considered serious? Does internal bleeding count as serious? I mean, you can't SEE it after all. What about concussions? Are those serious?
While I have you here, could you also explain the laws of provocation to me? Are those written down some where? I don't want to be guilty of breaking them. Now, let me stop you before you say "But she spit on him". Yep, that's gross. No doubt about it. She may well have been spitting mad. (that was beneath me, way too easy, but I don't really care right now.) But no one is saying "But he provoked her" and defending her in any way. So, is it to be understood that "provocation" isn't something men can be guilty of? And on what scale is it measured that being spat upon should equal loss of consciousness? Oh. Right. the law of provocation. All I hear when people say this is "Don't make men angry. You won't like them when they're angry." So, angry people are no longer expected to keep their hands to themselves? Please explain how this makes any kind of sense whatsoever? I get mad ALL THE TIME! ALL. THE. TIME. And I have YET to concuss someone. I'm mad right now and haven't thrown a single punch. But ooooh my let the tables turn. Uh oh, I've made a man angry! It is now, therefore, justifiable for him to attack me physically. It's all OK because Durrr hurrrr: penis.... Herp a Derp: Testoterone. Boys will be boys blaaahh blahh blaaaah.
But.....but.....How is provocation measured? It seems to be VERY arbitrary to me. I mean, does being dumped provoke one person to set another on fire? Is that how it works? Alabama woman dies 'after she is set on fire by her ex-boyfriend'
Or how about I live but my child dies? Hmmm....what would provoke that, I wonder? Sleeping 8-yr Killed, Mother Injured in Shooting
Maybe it's the simple act of not giving sex to every random guy that seems to want it from me? I'm sorry but I just don't have the time or stamina to accommodate ALL of you...maybe two...but not ALL! Sheesh!
Or maybe the provocation is giving the stankface to the random "gentleman" who told me he'd like to do me doggie style? Sigh. As tempting as that offer was I just had to pick up my kid from summer camp otherwise...ABSOLUTELY, total stranger! PLEASE take me now right here in the street cuz, ain't nuthin sexier!!!
Or could it possibly be just existing with a uterus? Is that provocation enough? Talking back? Being unhappy with the way I'm treated? Yelling and screaming? Not acting out my role in the porn you created in your mind??? Somebody tell me, please! I'm on pins and needles over here!
So, you want to know why I'm angry?
I have to yell fire if I'm being assaulted because no one will give a damn if I yell rape.
THIS IS WHY.
Because I had to change my daughter's cell phone number after a boy became verbally abusive when she told him she wasn't allowed to date. She was 10.
THIS IS WHY.
Because #notallmen was created in response to #yesallwomen just to derail the conversation about a very real aspect of life for everyone born with a uterus.
THIS IS WHY.
Because after every music awards show I have to tell my daughter that she is more than just a collection holes to be filled and squishy bits to be squeezed.
THIS IS WHY.
Because in a crowded room I keep my back to the wall, as experience has taught me my backside is open for business to any male in the room.
THIS IS WHY.
Because boys are taught to rule and girls are taught to be NICE.
THIS IS WHY.
Because I have to pretend to LIKE IT when I'm accosted on the street and asked to suck a dick, or be prepared to be verbally abused and/or physically assaulted for exercising my basic human right to go outside.
THIS IS WHY.
Because men find it more important to jump up and scream "BUT NOT ME" when confronted with the fact that LOTS of men are douche nozzles instead of LISTENING.
THIS IS WHY.
Because a lot of men won't care about this issue until another man speaks out about it.
THIS IS WHY.
Because Ray Rice grew up mentally ingrained with a cultural education that says it is OK for your brain to cease functioning when you get angry because the rules don't apply to men.
THIS IS WHY.
Because men are taught that women are only here for their entertainment and pleasure.
THIS IS WHY.
Because otherwise right-thinking men will blame the unconscious victim for her fate by saying she "PROVOKED" the attack.
THIS IS WHY.
Because women are told to learn how NOT TO BE A VICTIM as if they can PLAN NOT TO BE ATTACKED. Yet men are not told to NOT VICTIMIZE.
THIS IS WHY.
Because high school football players video a drunk girl being raped and post it on youtube, laughing all the way. HA HA HA! (Steubenville High School Rape Case)
THIS IS WHY.
Because people in the town piss and moan about those same players' lives being ruined as a result of criminal charges being brought against them.
THIS IS WHY.
Because rape is a joke.
THIS IS WHY.
Because people STILL debate about whether "Rape Culture" is a THING! IT'S A THING! A REAL THING!
THIS IS WHY.
Because even the Police are guilty of it. (Cop accused of domestic violence arrested AGAIN)
Detroit Police Officer Arrested
THIS IS WHY.
Because I was a victim.
THIS IS WHY.
Because my mother was a victim.
THIS IS WHY.
Because my daughter was a victim.
THIS IS WHY.
I have a voice. I will use it even if half the population doesn't want me to. Even if I lose friends over this. I won't be silently nodding anymore. Spitfire will speak and THIS IS WHY.
Is this really that hard to understand?
Also, can someone please explain to me what constitutes "serious abuse"???? Please enlighten me? So, what you're saying is that because it only took one punch to knock her out that it's not really that serious??? Approximately how many bruises would she require before it was considered serious? Does internal bleeding count as serious? I mean, you can't SEE it after all. What about concussions? Are those serious?
While I have you here, could you also explain the laws of provocation to me? Are those written down some where? I don't want to be guilty of breaking them. Now, let me stop you before you say "But she spit on him". Yep, that's gross. No doubt about it. She may well have been spitting mad. (that was beneath me, way too easy, but I don't really care right now.) But no one is saying "But he provoked her" and defending her in any way. So, is it to be understood that "provocation" isn't something men can be guilty of? And on what scale is it measured that being spat upon should equal loss of consciousness? Oh. Right. the law of provocation. All I hear when people say this is "Don't make men angry. You won't like them when they're angry." So, angry people are no longer expected to keep their hands to themselves? Please explain how this makes any kind of sense whatsoever? I get mad ALL THE TIME! ALL. THE. TIME. And I have YET to concuss someone. I'm mad right now and haven't thrown a single punch. But ooooh my let the tables turn. Uh oh, I've made a man angry! It is now, therefore, justifiable for him to attack me physically. It's all OK because Durrr hurrrr: penis.... Herp a Derp: Testoterone. Boys will be boys blaaahh blahh blaaaah.
But.....but.....How is provocation measured? It seems to be VERY arbitrary to me. I mean, does being dumped provoke one person to set another on fire? Is that how it works? Alabama woman dies 'after she is set on fire by her ex-boyfriend'
Or how about I live but my child dies? Hmmm....what would provoke that, I wonder? Sleeping 8-yr Killed, Mother Injured in Shooting
Maybe it's the simple act of not giving sex to every random guy that seems to want it from me? I'm sorry but I just don't have the time or stamina to accommodate ALL of you...maybe two...but not ALL! Sheesh!
Or maybe the provocation is giving the stankface to the random "gentleman" who told me he'd like to do me doggie style? Sigh. As tempting as that offer was I just had to pick up my kid from summer camp otherwise...ABSOLUTELY, total stranger! PLEASE take me now right here in the street cuz, ain't nuthin sexier!!!
Or could it possibly be just existing with a uterus? Is that provocation enough? Talking back? Being unhappy with the way I'm treated? Yelling and screaming? Not acting out my role in the porn you created in your mind??? Somebody tell me, please! I'm on pins and needles over here!
So, you want to know why I'm angry?
I have to yell fire if I'm being assaulted because no one will give a damn if I yell rape.
THIS IS WHY.
Because I had to change my daughter's cell phone number after a boy became verbally abusive when she told him she wasn't allowed to date. She was 10.
THIS IS WHY.
Because #notallmen was created in response to #yesallwomen just to derail the conversation about a very real aspect of life for everyone born with a uterus.
THIS IS WHY.
Because after every music awards show I have to tell my daughter that she is more than just a collection holes to be filled and squishy bits to be squeezed.
THIS IS WHY.
Because in a crowded room I keep my back to the wall, as experience has taught me my backside is open for business to any male in the room.
THIS IS WHY.
Because boys are taught to rule and girls are taught to be NICE.
THIS IS WHY.
Because I have to pretend to LIKE IT when I'm accosted on the street and asked to suck a dick, or be prepared to be verbally abused and/or physically assaulted for exercising my basic human right to go outside.
THIS IS WHY.
Because men find it more important to jump up and scream "BUT NOT ME" when confronted with the fact that LOTS of men are douche nozzles instead of LISTENING.
THIS IS WHY.
Because a lot of men won't care about this issue until another man speaks out about it.
THIS IS WHY.
Because Ray Rice grew up mentally ingrained with a cultural education that says it is OK for your brain to cease functioning when you get angry because the rules don't apply to men.
THIS IS WHY.
Because men are taught that women are only here for their entertainment and pleasure.
THIS IS WHY.
Because otherwise right-thinking men will blame the unconscious victim for her fate by saying she "PROVOKED" the attack.
THIS IS WHY.
Because women are told to learn how NOT TO BE A VICTIM as if they can PLAN NOT TO BE ATTACKED. Yet men are not told to NOT VICTIMIZE.
THIS IS WHY.
Because high school football players video a drunk girl being raped and post it on youtube, laughing all the way. HA HA HA! (Steubenville High School Rape Case)
THIS IS WHY.
Because people in the town piss and moan about those same players' lives being ruined as a result of criminal charges being brought against them.
THIS IS WHY.
Because rape is a joke.
THIS IS WHY.
Because people STILL debate about whether "Rape Culture" is a THING! IT'S A THING! A REAL THING!
THIS IS WHY.
Because even the Police are guilty of it. (Cop accused of domestic violence arrested AGAIN)
Detroit Police Officer Arrested
THIS IS WHY.
Because I was a victim.
THIS IS WHY.
Because my mother was a victim.
THIS IS WHY.
Because my daughter was a victim.
THIS IS WHY.
I have a voice. I will use it even if half the population doesn't want me to. Even if I lose friends over this. I won't be silently nodding anymore. Spitfire will speak and THIS IS WHY.
Monday, July 22, 2013
My Sight His Vision
I look at myself and I don't like what I see. I see a collection of incompletion, an
assortment of almost, and a wealth of what if.
I don't like it, but I keep looking, like a novice
baker constantly checking the cake in the oven. But each time I look I still
haven't risen. I'm still in the valley. Still struggling to climb out of my
personal pitfalls, but the walls have no grips and I watch myself slip again
and again.
You see, my discontent whispers to me in the quiet
times. And yes, it’s mine. I created it by wanting everything other than what I
have. Not that wanting is bad. But I'm finding fault with what I hold in my
hand and looking with longing eyes at what you hold in yours.
This discontent feeds on what I see and twists the
truth that God's grace is sufficient for me. And it’s getting so heavy. The
whispers become shouts and the weight of my wants bears down on me. Yet still I
don't look away. I watch, and say if only.
If only I hadn't wasted so much time. If only I
could have been more like them. If only
I had been born with this talent. If only I could have been richer, or smarter,
or stronger, or prettier. If only I could have been something other than what I
am. Then I would have been a better person. Then I would have been a better
sister. Then I would have been a better mother, a better wife, a better friend,
a better servant. Then I would have been a better minister.
My eyes stay trained on this unreality show as if I
know exactly what I could have done to have reached my destiny by now; as if I
could have figured out a way to circumvent God's process somehow. Because
sometimes I'm farsighted; I can see the end, the reward of what God promised
me. But in my nearsightedness I lose hope and stumble in faith because my now
does not resemble my later.
The waiting is frustrating my anointing. And I see
my life like a 3D image without glasses: God's promise overlapping my present.
Truth warring with reality. This duality causing my head and my heart to ache
until I just can't take it anymore. I cry and I cry out. And a small voice
undercuts the shouts and tells me to close my eyes. And because my sight and God's vision will always
be in opposition, I made the decision to listen to that voice and stop living
by sight.
Because my eyesight is faulty, and though what I see
is in front of me, it isn't really there.
Reality tells me that I should have succeeded by now. That the battle
I'm fighting and the struggle I'm hiding should not exist within this holy life
I'm living.
Reality insists that my
brokenness must be glazed over with laid hair and a beat face so there's no
trace of my pain. Because if you can't see
me hurt, then the hurt doesn't exist.
Reality says I must perpetuate this.
But there’s a difference between truth and reality. Just because it's real doesn't mean it's
true, and sometimes, knowing this is the only way to get through.
The truth is my struggle means I am still standing.
I am still fighting.
The truth is my struggle means I am not defeated.
The truth is God sees my messed up make up
for what it really is: a cry of desperation for his presence.
The truth is my brokenness lets His Light
shine through.
The truth is my brokenness makes me beautiful.
The truth is even though the pain may bring
me to my knees it brings me closer to His Face and that is the perfect place
for me to be.
The truth is my pain will
pull a perfect praise from my lips.
The truth is my worship is born from this
warfare.
The truth is you are right where you are supposed to be. So stop
living by what you see.
Trade your sight for His vision. It will be the best
decision you ever make.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Bully
Fear is not a game I play.
I could never understand the rules.
I'm just not that motivated to run
And I can't find the time to find a place to hide.
So I may as well face this thing that gives chase.
Look it in the eye and decide if want to
Smack it in the face or not.
Fear thinks I'm a bully.
And it's probably right.
Because I push it down on the playground
And rub its face in the dirt.
I laugh when it's hurt.
Fear thinks I'm a jerk.
Because I take its lunch money
And push it around.
Fear won't play with me
Because I don't play fair.
And I can't find it in me to care.
I put fear under my boot soles
Because I remember when fear
Used to poke holes in my soul.
And I would cry on my own
Because fear wouldn't leave me alone.
But I got in one good punch
And that was enough
To keep me swinging
To keep me thinking
This isn't so hard!
You're not so tough!
I've had enough of running.
Let's face it
Fear had it coming!
Now when fear sees me
IT starts running!
Now fear fears ME!
I'm just not that motivated to run
And I can't find the time to find a place to hide.
So I may as well face this thing that gives chase.
Look it in the eye and decide if want to
Smack it in the face or not.
Fear thinks I'm a bully.
And it's probably right.
Because I push it down on the playground
And rub its face in the dirt.
I laugh when it's hurt.
Fear thinks I'm a jerk.
Because I take its lunch money
And push it around.
Fear won't play with me
Because I don't play fair.
And I can't find it in me to care.
I put fear under my boot soles
Because I remember when fear
Used to poke holes in my soul.
And I would cry on my own
Because fear wouldn't leave me alone.
But I got in one good punch
And that was enough
To keep me swinging
To keep me thinking
This isn't so hard!
You're not so tough!
I've had enough of running.
Let's face it
Fear had it coming!
Now when fear sees me
IT starts running!
Now fear fears ME!
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Signposts
I have this constant battle going on in my mind. I fight it all the time. Fear likes to ride me like a prize pony. That makes me angry. When I'm angry I rebel. Hard. I have been angry with fear for a long time.
Now, when fear comes calling I invite it in for a chat. I interrogate it. Why? Because fear is FULL of useful information. Fear is like a big, vegas bright, neon sign. It's an arrow at the crossroads saying "Go This Way!"
I've been afraid before and I know how paralyzing it can be. But when you're so scared of making a mistake that you make nothing at all then that is a problem.
When God said be fruitful and replenish the earth I don't think he was just talking about making babies. I believe the God of creation was talking about CREATING! I think he was talking about taking whatever gift you have and planting it, wherever the soil is most fertile. Whether you're a scientist working to unravel the mysteries of the universe, or a teacher striving to mold young minds. Or even if you're a regular everyday person faced with deciding how to reveal your feelings to your crush. You just can't let fear take you over. Living in fear is not living at all, because you die every time you back down. Every. Single. Time.
So, if you're scared, follow that signpost. Life is too short to wonder what's at the end of the road. Travel it and find out!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Is It Me???
AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGHHHH!!!!!!!!
Why does this keep happening to me? Hollywood is inside my head. They've micro-chipped me and are listening to my ideas....and I'm not getting PAID!!!!
I have a problem with this! OK, a bit of background information is in order.
I was in the ninth grade when America went to war. I found out about Operation Desert Storm in my English class. Ms. Kimble, my English teacher, made the announcement halfway through class. It took a moment for the information to settle in. For a while all you could hear was the ticking of her clock. This was the perhaps the loudest clock in the history of timepieces! I would always tell my friends that it sounded like a time bomb waiting to explode. It was the cause of much anxiety during test time. After hearing the news of military upheaval, every tick was like a doom bell ringing. Adding to this anxiety was the fact that my father was in Guam on business. His return home was delayed because of the kick-off of the Gulf War.
To sum up: the country is at war, daddy isn't coming home, and there's a clock that sounds like a bomb in my English class. How do I cope? Well, OBVIOUSLY, I write a story about terrorists taking over our school and the student body having to fight free! DUH!!!
So, I'm feeling pretty good about how my story is turning out. Then, in 1991 two things happen: The Gulf war ends and the movie Toy Soldiers comes out. The only reason I even remember this movie is because of its premise. Can you guess what the premise was? That's right. Terrorists attack a school and students fight their way to freedom.
Sigh.
I took it all in stride and joked about Hollywood stealing my idea but, of course, I was outraged. How could this have happened? It is impossible that anyone can have the same idea! (Yes, I'm laughing at myself.) However, this did give me hope that I may have the right mind to one day tell stories on a grand scale!
A pattern began to form with me. I would watch movies and just KNOW what was going to happen. I choose to believe this is because I am something of a "savant" when it comes to movies and NOT because the movies were predictable! I will not be dissuaded of this notion and I'll thank you to allow me to continue on in my delusions. This isn't just with movies, though.
If you know the Harry Potter story, then you'll understand what I'm about to tell you. And if you don't know the Harry Potter story, SPOILER ALERT and remind me to rethink our relationship because I'm not sure why we're friends.
Here is a list of things I knew would happen before they happened because this is the way I would have written it (in no particular order):
1. Severus Snape was in love with Lily.
2. Severus Snape was a hero.
3. Dumbledore planned his own death.
4. Harry was a horcrux....THEREFORE
5. Harry Potter Had. To. Die. (Although, I would have left him dead, I still loved the way it ended.)
I called each of these things and they ALL happened. It is as if the world bends to my will! If only I could get PAID FOR IT!
Alas, it is happening all over again.
Allow me the arrogance to think that you have been reading my blog and remember my short story "Boy Meets...?" If you haven't you should give it a read. It's short, I'll wait here..................................
Great, so now you've read it. A neat little idea, right? By no means original, (Pygmalion anyone?) but still a neat little nugget of an idea that has great potential.
Enter Ruby Sparks: A Movie. This is the preview:
AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Am I doomed to repeat this pattern? Am I tuned to some specific movie-makers frequency? Is there no end to this theft and humiliation? And, perhaps most importantly, HOW can a sister get paid!?!!!??? As GOD IS MY WITNESS I will get credit for my ideas!! I SWEAR I will beat Hollywood to the punch ONE DAY!
Why does this keep happening to me? Hollywood is inside my head. They've micro-chipped me and are listening to my ideas....and I'm not getting PAID!!!!
I have a problem with this! OK, a bit of background information is in order.
I was in the ninth grade when America went to war. I found out about Operation Desert Storm in my English class. Ms. Kimble, my English teacher, made the announcement halfway through class. It took a moment for the information to settle in. For a while all you could hear was the ticking of her clock. This was the perhaps the loudest clock in the history of timepieces! I would always tell my friends that it sounded like a time bomb waiting to explode. It was the cause of much anxiety during test time. After hearing the news of military upheaval, every tick was like a doom bell ringing. Adding to this anxiety was the fact that my father was in Guam on business. His return home was delayed because of the kick-off of the Gulf War.
To sum up: the country is at war, daddy isn't coming home, and there's a clock that sounds like a bomb in my English class. How do I cope? Well, OBVIOUSLY, I write a story about terrorists taking over our school and the student body having to fight free! DUH!!!
So, I'm feeling pretty good about how my story is turning out. Then, in 1991 two things happen: The Gulf war ends and the movie Toy Soldiers comes out. The only reason I even remember this movie is because of its premise. Can you guess what the premise was? That's right. Terrorists attack a school and students fight their way to freedom.
Sigh.
I took it all in stride and joked about Hollywood stealing my idea but, of course, I was outraged. How could this have happened? It is impossible that anyone can have the same idea! (Yes, I'm laughing at myself.) However, this did give me hope that I may have the right mind to one day tell stories on a grand scale!
A pattern began to form with me. I would watch movies and just KNOW what was going to happen. I choose to believe this is because I am something of a "savant" when it comes to movies and NOT because the movies were predictable! I will not be dissuaded of this notion and I'll thank you to allow me to continue on in my delusions. This isn't just with movies, though.
If you know the Harry Potter story, then you'll understand what I'm about to tell you. And if you don't know the Harry Potter story, SPOILER ALERT and remind me to rethink our relationship because I'm not sure why we're friends.
Here is a list of things I knew would happen before they happened because this is the way I would have written it (in no particular order):
1. Severus Snape was in love with Lily.
2. Severus Snape was a hero.
3. Dumbledore planned his own death.
4. Harry was a horcrux....THEREFORE
5. Harry Potter Had. To. Die. (Although, I would have left him dead, I still loved the way it ended.)
I called each of these things and they ALL happened. It is as if the world bends to my will! If only I could get PAID FOR IT!
Alas, it is happening all over again.
Allow me the arrogance to think that you have been reading my blog and remember my short story "Boy Meets...?" If you haven't you should give it a read. It's short, I'll wait here..................................
Great, so now you've read it. A neat little idea, right? By no means original, (Pygmalion anyone?) but still a neat little nugget of an idea that has great potential.
Enter Ruby Sparks: A Movie. This is the preview:
AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Am I doomed to repeat this pattern? Am I tuned to some specific movie-makers frequency? Is there no end to this theft and humiliation? And, perhaps most importantly, HOW can a sister get paid!?!!!??? As GOD IS MY WITNESS I will get credit for my ideas!! I SWEAR I will beat Hollywood to the punch ONE DAY!
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Zombies!
I'm resurrecting some things
Once dead things
Turning them, making them living
Living things
Inside my head
Want out
So they bang
And they beat on the walls
Make the floors shake
Make my head ache
Beg me to reincarnate them
From the gray matter grave
They're rotting in.
Let the apocalypse begin.
Once dead things
Turning them, making them living
Living things
Inside my head
Want out
So they bang
And they beat on the walls
Make the floors shake
Make my head ache
Beg me to reincarnate them
From the gray matter grave
They're rotting in.
Let the apocalypse begin.
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