The Road Less Traveled

Passion for one's job is a necessity in the working world. Unfortunately, not everyone is blessed enough to have the appropriate education for a desired job or lucky enough to find an opening in that desired career. The main thing is having possession of knowledge that will help you get to where you want to be. Many people in this world suffer from indecision in their futures, and end up wasting away in job fields that they hate. It may sound silly to hear that some people have 'undecided' as their occupation, but it is not all that difficult to fall into this category.

When we are little, many of us aspire to become the town heroes that everyone envies, or to become famous and make a lot of money so that we can do what we want when we want. What we do not realize about this is that hardly any of us will stay true to these whimsical ideas, and that money does not always make the world go 'round. It seems simple when we look at it this way. "All I need to do is get rich, right? Then it won't matter if I like my job or not, since I can buy anything and everything that makes me happy." If only life were so easy.

It takes a great deal of self-confidence and mental stability to be sure that "this is the right job for me" and "this is what I want to do with the rest of my life". For some people, these things fall into place with the blink of an eye once they realize their passion for something, be it music, sports, neurosurgery, or other such things.

I, on the other hand, am passionless. More precisely, I am not quite positive I have found my passion at this point in time. There are many things in this world that interest me, but there is no job titled 'Interior & Fashion Design-Photography-Musical-Novelist'. My set path has not yet been determined, and so I wonder "Will I succeed?" I won't know until I start on the right path if what I'm doing is really what I should be doing. In life, there is no-one who will tell us that "This is your job! This is where you were meant to be!" And so many of us 'undecided' ones wander the Earth aimlessly, only a handful finding their true place.

My first attempt at passion will be to return to my current high school to take one more semester of loose-end courses, and then transfer over to the in town college. There, I shall delve into the endeavors of the fine arts world. Who knows if I'll be one of the few lucky ones to strike it rich? Only time will tell.

In the future, you'll find me rolling in dough...I might just be the next Pillsbury Doughgirl!

Review on "The Lovely Bones"

Having recently seen "The Lovely Bones" in theatres, I am inclined to write a very thorough review on all things creeper. Stanley Tucci, in this case, plays as pedophile George Harvey in this rather dramatic thriller. Susie Salmon (Saoirse Ronan), the main character of this story, is a 14-year-old girl who is murdered by her neighbor. The storyline follows Susie as she watches her family, after her death, while they slowly discover the truth about her murder.

The movie itself is very well done, and absolutely makes the audience feel connected in some way.

The first time George Harvey appears on screen, the viewer can feel that something is a bit off. Is it his hair? His glasses? Or is it something else? There is a rather unnerving aura surrounding this strangely polite man. His presence has a way of making people feel uncomfortable in their seats. I felt that Stanley Tucci did an outstanding job of portraying the image that is not so uncommon in today's society. This character really hits home with parents of young children, and brings about a sense of anger and fear. "What if that were my daughter?" they might ask, fearing the fact that there are definitely people such as Mr. Harvey in the real world.

As a viewer of this movie, I absolutely felt that no other actress could have portrayed the part of Susie Salmon as well as Saoirse Ronan did. Her appearance, of course, plays a part in this bias. She looks very kind and innocent, so it is no wonder that she was the girl chosen for the part. Along with her suitable appearance, her excellent acting skills make the story very believable and evokes emotion from the audience.

The supporting cast aids in the presentation of the story, if only minimally. The desperate search that Jack Salmon (Mark Wahlberg) goes through to find some trace evidence of the culprit is frustrating and emanates helplessness. His eldest child has been taken from him in the blink of an eye, and this causes an irreparable hole in his life for quite some time.

Plotwise, "The Lovely Bones" delivered all that needed to be said or shown. Unfortunately, the ending of the movie was lacking a certain something. In the horrific death that was due to Mr. Harvey, and other aspects, the ending was only half-satisfying. However, this by no means makes the movie wasted time. To anyone who has not yet seen "The Lovely Bones", I recommend it. The enthralling story is bound to keep you watching.

Having not read the book prior to watching the movie, it was still very easy to follow. I don't feel the need to read the novel after having seen the movie, as it may ruin the magic.

My rating? A whopping 9 out of a possible 10. The world needs more movies this well made.

Creative Writing Prompt #276

Create a story or poem inspired by a line in a David Lehman poem: "Death was last seen in the auction room, looking worried."

Oh shat. Last night, I had a little too much to drink and now I wake up in an auction room. Guess what they're selling up there? My death scythe. Yeah. That's right. I bet you're pretty horrified to hear that, because I know I sure am. I don't even really know how any of it happened. By 'it', I mean why am I wearing a grass skirt? Where is my left arm? Howcome auctionee #45, that old lady over there with the sagging right eye, is checking me out? This is what I'd ask myself but, unfortunately, myself is somewhere in this room stumbling about looking for more booze. I don't mean that in a bad way but, really, how can I mean it in a good way? I just watch from the sidelines, because I am my own subconscious. Sometimes, I embarass myself--like the other day, for instance:

It was a day like any other. The birds were singing, school was in, and I was out on another run to the retirement home in downtown Red Deer, Alberta. Unfortunately, I sometimes get my directions mixed up since I have so many souls to reap on a daily basis. You see, I somehow ended up inside the Red Deer North District Secondary School gym.

Ahhh...Yes, I see that you're starting to understand where this is going.

When I was young, my parents led me to believe that it is best not to judge a book by its cover and so, upon seeing the wheezing, profusely sweating, blue lipped Danny Sullivan dragging himself across the gymnasium to complete his second and last lap (mind you, this is a very small gymnasium), how was I to know that it wasn't his time? I hadn't been told that I was at a high school--I just thought it was a rather educational old folks' home. It never looks good on your transcript in the afterlife if you kill a thirteen year-old invalid by mistake instead of a ninety-eight year-old hag who suffers from severe atherosclerosis. Some people frown upon 'oopsie's such as this. They say that Death is a joke, that Life is unfair, and that they wish it was them. Well, I can honestly say that yes, I am a bit of a joke (but only on Sundays--that's my comedy night). However, I don't care much for the fact that these people just assume things and can't forgive an honest mistake. I know Life. He's a good guy, and usually he's pretty good on honesty and equality. I suppose you could say he's rather disinterested in his job, in a way, but that isn't really a bad thing for a guy like Life. It's better for him to be unprejudiced than to be on everyone's case all the time. It just irritates me that everyone always hands him all the credit on a silver platter. If people can be happy for the birth of a child, why can they not be happy for the death of those in a plane crash? Would they rather that their friends or relatives suffer painfully without any salvation? At any rate, I digress.

Here we are again, at the auction house. I really do hope that you've enjoyed my story, because I won't be around much longer. Death will soon go by the name of Bidder #56---Antoine Juarez. There could be a chance that I can somehow obtain my scythe before the end of the day, but it's risky. Wait. What am I talking about? I'm still Death. At least, for now I am.

~I, in my dazed and confused stupor, am still stumbling aimlessly. However, upon realization that my life might not be at its end, I leap forth! Flying at the auction associate with rage, I tear out his spinal cord and reclaim what is rightfully mine. The Death scythe, in all its resplendent glory, slices the still standing body of said auction associate in two.

Holding the bloody cord of spine above my head, I slowly lean towards the microphone. The horrified crowd trembles in silence and anticipation of what I am about to say. What crucial epiphany will I deliver to mankind? How will I exercise my wrath?? I breathe in slowly and open my mouth.

"Well, I'd heard that politicians and auctioneers alike are spineless, but I didn't think it was true!"~

At this point, I'd prefer not to tell you what happened after that. I will leave to your imagination the horrified expressions, shrieks of terror, and panic that may or may not have ensued. Let me just tell you that, after all was said and done, I came out of that auction house one spine less, and fifty-six dollars, twenty-three cents richer.

Creative Writing Prompt #188

"Write from the point of view of a coffee maker that short-circuited."

Cale. That one simple word. It inspires fear inside the very heart of me. Deep down into the depths. The dark, abysmal depths of emptiness. The emptiness that I feel on those days where Cale and his classmates are in this room, seemingly at the crack of dawn, is second to none. I sometimes wonder why. Why have I been placed upon this Earth? On those days, I am committed to brutal slave labour--the intense heat of the sun beating away at my back, like a spiked club to a defenseless baby seal. Unfortunately for me and young Mr. Seal, no-one cares about us. We are the social outcasts of the greater world. For young Mr. Seal, there is seen to be no purpose. As for myself...I am looked down upon by the other kitchen appliances. My kind, in reality, is truly the weakest link. Is there a redeeming feature in my bleak future? Judging by the hours of endless toil I must do, digesting coffe beans and giving off a dark waste product, I think not. I will never understand why humans do the things that they do. Do they find sick pleasure in drinking my bitter waste? All it amounts to is the yellowing of their death-munchers. My foil lid trembles at the very thought--I am very thankful that I am not within their tastes. Humans have never attempted to eat me, and so I shall do the same. I will remain anonymous, as I have done for many a year, and shall only use the power of scalding hot water to my advantage when I see fit.


The other day, I finally snapped. That young girl, the one with the curly blond hair, will never be the same again. You see...I was a bit down in the mood department and didn't feel like I could put up with any shenanigans. It was another one of those days when I was set to work in the early morning, so I blew up. All over her face. I just blew up. Scalding coffee grounds and burning hot coffee cascaded down her face as her skin bubbled, and then I says to myself I says "Coffee Maker, you've gone and done yourself a bad deed, you have." Anyhow, once the ambulance had all come and gone, I started feeling a little funny in the tummy. I'm not sure how it all began, but things started to fall apart. Really, my lid was cracking and my handle was rattling and everything. All of a sudden I---beep boop! Woof Woof, Meow Meow!! Bob eats the shoes McGee! Woolooloopdoopdoop!! Muwhajbnjhnkjkkkalll! ZZzzz---zjjna Does Not Compute. DOES NOT COMPUTE. Cale. The very bane of my caffeinated existence. If I were you, boy, I'd watch myself.

L4D2 Coming to a Store Near You This November!!

Alright. So, hello out there to all you Left 4 Dead fans. This is grand maestro Busted Kneecap/Enigmatic Banana and/or Louis. It seems to me that we'll be expecting the new release of a new videogame that is rumored to be quite amazing. Well, I for one know that I'll sure be playing it on the day that it's released. Why, you might ask? Why the heck not?!! It's freaking L4D2, man!!

I had really intended to do this earlier as a fancy schmancy little shout-out to all my equally, but not quite as pwnsome, killing spree videogame genre fans. What do you call a day without Resident Evil? A day without Left 4 Dead? A day without Assassin's Creed? A day without...The Godfather?? Well, my friend, I would rather not know. For, if a day such as this ever presents itself to the world, my faith in humanity will be lost. Where, oh where, has the meaning of life gone? Hah. Yeah.

So hey. I believe I am entitled to vaguely talk about a few other equally as awesome games in this post, no? All this L4D speak is getting my videogame blood boiling!

Hm, so I happened upon something rather awesome just a few minutes back. Care to take a gander? And no, I'm not referring to geese here, people. This here clock below:

For those of you who haven't played the more primitive of the Resident Evil series, I really suggest that you do. Well...Code Veronica can sortof be bypassed, if you prefer. I found the controls for it to be rather frustrating at times, but played through it anyhow (hah, woe is me). Anyways, Resident Evil: Outbreak and Resident Evil: Outbreak File#2 are both very good games, in my opinion. See, you've got (i)Alyssa Ashcroft, The Daily Raccoon's loyal journalist (and my least favourite character by far) who is only useful on the front that she has a device to pick locks. Then we have (ii)George Hamilton, an excellent surgeon who works at Raccoon General Hospital (or did work, I should say) and is helpful in gameplay due to his ability to make medicines. Next is (iv)Cindy Lennox, a waitress at J's bar who comes in handy in that she can heal with herbs, which she has an abundance of. (v)David King, who happens to be a plumber of few words. In Outbreak, I always play as David, for he is magnificent and can create weapons such as hammers, wooden poles, electric rods and a few other deliciously dangerous things. He can also throw monkey wrenches as projectiles and use his handy dandy knife in close-quarters combat. (vii)Yoko Suzuki. Yup. There's always a stereotypical schoolgirl (university, in this case) in these older games with a stereotypical name. I don't really mind Yoko, per se, but she can sometimes get on my nerves. It's good to have her around though, as she can carry extra items. (viii)Jim Chapman, a subway station employee. His usefulness? Well, let's think of Left 4 Dead for a moment here. Need help? You sure better hope that your other partner is a good one, because you won't be getting any help from this guy. He'll either play dead, fooling the zombies, or run off into the obscure distance and leave you to die a lonely, painful death. Don't care so much for him, no. (x)Mark Wilkins, who is your friendly old security man. At the young age of 52, he can beat the living daylights out of anything with the best of 'em. Except maybe zombie elephants, which we come across in File #2. He always starts off with a high-damage gun which is better than most regular handguns. If you're scared of starting off a scenario in fear of instant death, because you're probably a nub, pick Mark to be your partner. You shall not be disappointed. And finally, we come to (xii)Kevin Ryman, who is a Raccoon Police Officer! He's pretty good with guns, and carries his favourite Colt M1911, I believe it is. He'll always be nearby, so never fear!

And thus is my L4D update, along with a nice little summary of REO characters. There's five scenarios in each Outbreak file, so I suggest, if you can manage to find REO second-hand somewhere, do spend the small amount of cash to pick yourself up a copy. It provides for good entertainment, as there's a mysterious cold-blooded killer, zombie elephants, hornets the size of your torso, and many other fantastic features for you to enjoy, including the ability to request items and use the ad-lib function that allows you to talk to your partners. Well! I think I've just about finished my little spiel, so do enjoy the rest of your morning, afternoon, and/or evening.

P.S.- Capcom, if you're listening, I believe you owe me some money for the publicity I've provided your out of print videogames XD

The Glass Castle

{"I don't care what happened!" he yelled.

"But we were just protecting ourselves," I said.

"Brian's a man, he can take it," he said. "I don't want to hear another word of this. Do you hear me?" He was shaking his head, but wildly, almost as as if he thought he could keep out the sound of my voice. He wouldn't even look at me. (Walls, pg. 148)}

As I read this passage of the book, I came to realize that some of Jeanette's experiences with her parents are very similar to my own. Countless times in my life, I have been unjustly blamed for something I did not do. As well, in the past, I have made an effort to explain my side of the story in a situation where I seem to be the one at fault, but my truth is always thrown to the wayside. My father, for instance, does not like to be proven wrong. Similar to the way in that Rex 'doesn't want to hear about it', I have been told to "stop", or "that's enough". If I turn out to be in 'the right' in a situation, I would like to have the justification that people realize that I am telling the truth.

Jeannette felt this same way numerous times in the book. Her father, Rex, is a very stubborn individual who needs to learn to admit that sometimes he can be wrong. It is not always true what he says, especially if it involves alcohol. The situation is not always about who is right or wrong, but who is willing to listen.

Giving Thanks

Sometimes, a certain book can make you realize just how lucky you are with the way you live. This can happen with fictional books that speak in hypothetical terms about a similar uncomfortable or sad situation that happened to a friend, making you realize how they must have felt or even give you a feeling of regret for not taking the issue as seriously as it should have been.

In fictional or non-fictional books, there can sometimes be a character who has such a terrible life that it actually makes you depressed, imagining how horrible that person might feel all the time living that way. These books can also make you feel extremely thankful for the happy, normal life that you might be living. If not happy, at least it'll still seem better than the worst extreme, which is the life of the character in the story.

"The Glass Castle" for instance, a true story written by Jeanette Walls about her life as a child, is one such novel. Throughout the course of the story, young Jeanette narrates the many horrible things her parents do. Horrible, I mean in a way that her parents don't really seem to take much interest in their children. Do they care? Maybe. Are they careful? Not in the slightest.

Young Jeanette once lit herself on fire, singeing her eyelashes, eyebrows, and melting her hair. This was when she was three and her parents had let her cook hotdogs on the stove un-supervised. Sure, I suppose her mother was kind enough to take heed of her child's screaming and cover her with a blanket to put out the fire, but would the fire have started in the first place if she had been watching? Or if she hadn't told her daughter it was okay to cook over a hot stove at the age of three? I'm thinking that needs no explanation.

Sure, I've burnt myself plenty of times, but my parents always see to it that I don't full on ignite myself to an almost irreparable extreme. When I read this part of the book, early on into it, I thought at first "What terrible parents!! Why would they let her do something like that?!" which soon changed to "My god am I glad that my parents take better care of me than that." when young Jeanette explained how she had fallen out of the moving vehicle, the Blue Caboose, and cracked her head on the pavement--her parents not realizing she was missing for quite a while.

I've never had to move homes in my time, so I've always lived in the same spot. Although I like to travel and see new places, I would not enjoy a life on the road. "Where do you live, Enigmatic Banana?" "Hm? Oh. Yeah. I don't, really. You see, I enjoy an adventurous life where the most time I spend in one place is two months. Friends? Eh, I don't worry about that. I don't have time for friends, since we're on the road all the time." That doesn't quite seem like an enjoyable lifestyle to me.

I know in my time I've never had to worry about where my next meal would come from. I'm also aware that there are families not nearly as poor as Jeanette's that have this issue as well. Sadly, the Walls family is 'between jobs' and extremely hard to do for quite a time. Resorting to eating a stick of margarine because there was nothing else to eat was a depressing moment in the book. If I were the Walls parents, I would try to do whatever it takes so that my children never go hungry, or have to sleep in cardboard boxes. I'm very grateful, upon reading this, that I live in a home where I can eat when I want and have a comfortable bed to sleep in at night.

All in all, I am quite grateful that my parents are who they are. Indeed, they may argue with me and with each other at times, but they look after me as best they can. I've had a good education, have lived where I live for many years and have friends due to that, I have a home, and I have food to feed myself with when I hunger. Would you like a bit of cheese with this post? I suppose so. As much as it has been said in the past, I'm very lucky in that I have a caring family. My mother, brother, grandma, and father all look out for me in different ways. So, thank you, Jeanette Walls, for enlightening my current situation!

Link for the picture:
www.piersidegallery.com/artists/ellenshaw

Interesting book-related link:
www.readinggroupguides.com/guides3/glass_castle1.asp