***Snickers***
BELIEVE ME these will never happen!
“50 First Dates: 10 years and 4 kids later”.
“The Waterboy II: Mama Moves Back In”
“Fast Times at Ridgemont High: 40 Year Reunion”
“How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days and Still get Palimony”
“The Breakfast Club: Bender Goes to Washington”
“Beverly Hills Cop: Retired My Ass!”
“The Wedding Singer: Out of Tune”
“The Goonies: Where’s the Cave?”
“Charlie’s Angels: Contracted Out”
“Ferris Buehler’s Day Off: Again?”
If I could add anything to that phrase, it would be the word “still” after the word “that”. Isn’t it odd that we can go through so much–both good and bad and the artists are the ones that motivate us or evoke tears? When I say “artist” do you think I mean someone with a paint brush or a camera? Then you are only partially correct. I’m referring to those who can create worlds with their pens as well–or the actor or actress that can allow a character to come through them like a shaman allows the spirits to breathe through them.
All of these can move us to tears, inspire us, make us angry as hell or even, for some strange reason depending on what is put out there, can cause us to tell the world to go screw itself for a day. I love a good psychological roller coaster ride when I watch a film which is why a lot of the 80’s flicks for the teens didn’t impress me too much. However there are two exceptions: “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” and “The Breakfast Club“.
Now what happens when the artists go through such crap that they don’t want to create? It is not that hard to answer. Those closest to them and those who support them should rally around them and send them love. Yeah, that’s right–LOVE. You know, that word society likes to associate with the “f” word a lot? However it means so much more than that. For those of us who love putting the word to paper, writer’s block is what happens to us if we fear not measuring up, or something has happened that has mummified our muse.
They key to the cure is to encourage the writer to keep writing, the painter to keep painting, the photographer to keep snapping pictures, the actor or actress to keep acting and the singer/songwriter to keep on singing and composing. Let them know what they have done for you and how they have inspired you. Sometimes those who tell them their work is crap are nothing more than corporate “yes” men. If we are the ones buying the work, we should be dropping lines on occasion.
When they inspire us, they also do remind us that we STILL possess a soul as well, do they not?
A few of my friends are really going through some crap right now. They are always on my mind and in my thoughts. If I could reach out across the distance and hug them or let them simply be free to vent, I would. I’ve been in places where nobody else would want to tread, that is for sure. Instead of hardening me, I have become more empathetic about many things. Given what I have survived and come out of, I would say that is a good thing because I could have easily become anything BUT empathetic toward my fellow-man/woman.
Some people have seen a few snippets of my life. Some were there and watched me go through it. I often get asked how I survived it all and kept my marbles. The answer a simple. I grew up in an age where it was one thing to wish those who hurt you into the “cornfield” as depicted by the “Twilight Zone“. It was (and is) quite another to send them there. No individual is worth the creature one would turn into if they actually carried out such thoughts–but then again, thoughts can become “things”, right?
Well they nearly did when I was 12–and the scenario was NOT a good one. Therefore I’ll save it for another story with another vile creature of a villain that will either get killed off in a horrible way and/or will learn what it was like for his/her victim to suffer. There is nothing like the pen to describe these ebbs and flows in our life cycle–but it is so much more fun to carry out our fantasies in fiction.
If your life feels more like it is ebbing than flowing, then maybe it is time to pull out the pen again or the brush and go for it! Have a good evening!
This is a post unlike any I have ever done, but I think it took someone else to describe what it is I tend to look for…Deeds…Not personalities…Actions do speak louder than words, don’t they? We spend most of our youth being programmed into what others want us to be, but when do we become ourselves?
I learned early on that life for me was one cage evolving into another. I spent most of my life watching shows and movies looking for heroes to save me from the hell I called my life from the time I was a child. Then I came to a harsh realization. No hero was coming. No one was hearing me crying from the time I was 11 to the time I was grown–except me, a mouse named Brutus (at one point) and the air.
Until anyone can tell me what it is like to be so scared to leave one’s own room that they crouch over a hole in the floor to piss under the house rather than risk sneaking to the bathroom, then nobody can tell me what fear really is. I learned early on what it is, but I never learned how to do anything but to mentally escape from those awful memories.
One of the movies I love the most now is called “The Shawshank Redemption“. When I watched that, it was the day I realized I had escaped and I felt very empowered by the fact.
When I watch movies, I look for things that CAN play out in life. Because I knew there were no heroes, I hated the Marvel comics and such my brother loved. I hated cartoons like Johnny Quest and such because, again, they weren’t real. It was the musicians that caught my attention then. Many sang about things I wanted to feel. If there was anything I wanted to feel it was to feel loved for the person I was inside….
Most of those same cartoons depicted good winning over evil, but in my home it seemed that it was the evil winning. It was eating at the heart of my family like a cancer. I endured a lot and survived. I truly did live in a war zone. Any step I took could result in all hell being unleashed.
As a result I grew weary of Hollywood and all the fake heroes being put out–but I still had a thing for “Fast Times at Ridgmont High” and (as I have discussed before) “The Breakfast Club“. I can also assure you that the tale of each kid in that latter movie in some way mimicked my life–except for Claire’s. I related most to Ally Sheedy‘s character who (she says) was ignored. Nobody really knows what went through her head…
However by then, for the most part I stopped spending money on movie tickets because I realized that much of what was coming out was hype more than substance. The one movie I SHOULD have went to see was “Chariots of Fire”. At least the two main characters were real and did exist. Ian Charleson and Ben Cross brought the two men to life for me in that film when I finally saw it a few years ago. In hindsight, not many will dispute the idea that Ben Cross should have gotten an Oscar (or at least the nod) for how he brought Abrahams to life in that movie, but for whatever reason, that did not happen for him.
He played a bigger role a few years before that and very few people took note of this during an interview he did–but they damned well should have. The man stood up for what he felt was right and that, in my book is more worthy of being book material and/or put on celluloid than this bloody trash Hollywood keeps throwing at us as of late…Ben put himself on the line and could have ended up in a Russian prison for it years ago. I hope he writes that story soon. That is the type of story we need out there…Not this Depp/Burton “Dark Shadows” fiasco or the “Abe Lincoln: Vampire Hunter” crap!
If you’re interested in knowing what the hell I am talking about, I will refer you to an interview he did in 1982–the year my son Eric was born. Had I read this interview then, the man’s picture would have been right up on my wall next to John Lennon’s for having the guts to stand up for what he believed was right in a time when the political turmoil was immense. That is a person worth looking up to. Too bad I never knew about this until YESTERDAY because to me, THIS is what heroes are really made of. If actions do indeed speak louder than words, then the words he spoke in this interview should have resulted in his actions screaming at an entire generation or two.
I remember going to NYC in 1981 and seeing Russian subs off of the coast so I know if I had seen this, I’d have done a double take!
Mr. Cross, you can be as humble as you want to be, but this is one story that does need to be shared. I am glad the interview was still available…
Here is the link:
http://www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20081839,00.html
I know the action he took to help a Russian couple trying to leave Communist Russia (which was a prison cage in itself) screamed at me quite loudly–and while he has such a knack for bringing these characters he plays to life, it is this time that should be shared with the world because there is a message in it worth hearing and seeing–and it is real.
Sometimes it takes conscience and a bit of unbridled individualism to do the right thing. He certainly did so, and for that he has my utmost respect. Right now he plays a villain called “Mr. Rabbit” on the Cinemax show, “Banshee” and he is doing an excellent job. I hope this opens many doors for him to come, as he certainly deserves that after all these years.
Yeah…I’m talking about the same guy who played Harold Abrahams in “Chariots of Fire”! This guy is probably one of the bravest people I have NEVER met!
And here is a link to a performance the Galina and Valery Panov did after their defection…They were so marvelous! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMMbdG6eB-8
One of the most horrible things about living in our world is that we are slaves to a bloody clock. Our days are divided up into segments of 24 hours rather than from sunrise to sundown. If I ever have my way, my day will go back to the natural way it was meant to be. To be honest, I am mainly tired and ill in bed with the flu as I type this, but I still will type away.
However I am grateful for all of this because it gives me so much time to reflect. It gives me time to sit back and just BREATHE. I love life. I love the opportunities that are opening up for me–and they are there. I see them on the dream board I’ve been building onto and adding to for over a year. Time, reflections and travel are recurring themes on it and I know it will come to pass.
I constantly think outside the box. I’ve never had the opportunity to really study the arts which I find to be fascinating, but I did have the opportunity to read many books, which breathe life into many a subject–if they are able to keep my interest longer than some of the people I have met. Because of a lot of drama and trauma, I was the reclusive creature in my younger years. I was a lot like Ally Sheedy‘s character in “The Breakfast Club” too–minus the stealing. I couldn’t draw like she could–but I could write. That was my escape from the cruel world in which I lived. I find that this fan made video featuring the character of Allison Reynolds was perfect:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lPbfshzJ9g&feature=related
To me that was the character, that in real-life, who was probably the most misunderstood and (most likely) misguided among them all. No one knew what went on in her head until she acted on it. She didn’t share much until later. No one knew what pain she went through outside of the school-house walls. I wonder where she would be in a class reunion today? I know where I am–usually…Notably absent and with reason.
This is what Allison and I needed to hear when we were younger…Maybe one day if she hasn’t already–we will hear this from SOMEONE:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1bcQMCZ5gU
I dreamed of one day having the courage to even get in front of people again, which I now have.
“…I am I myself alone…I realize I never need to use no one–money, power, holy roads…Freedom puts my faith in none of the above…”–Duran Duran (From ‘None of the Above‘)…
I can so relate to that song. You can hear it in its entirety here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ezrtGrpvSk
I lived that song and I really would like to cover it with an all female band…Growing up in the south has been confining in some ways, but very free in others. Now before all my Baptist relatives and friends start sending me e-mails, I will say this. All that song says to me is that we are all responsible for our own paths in life and we have to choose those for ourselves. Many of us were brought up to be pleasing and accommodating, when in reality, it is that nature in some of us that made us so weak that we reach a breaking point. We have to walk away in order to find our own answers at times–and it has nothing to do with whether we believe in a creator as much as it has to do with the fact that every person’s steps have to be directed from within.
It is when we follow our consciences that we often come up against stiff opposition from our families and communities and we are forced to conform and be accepted or go our own way and face their anger at their loss of influence over our everyday lives. They learn to deal with it, just as we learn to deal with the fact that some will never accept us as we are as individuals.
My dad used to really get angry if I failed to call him at least once or twice a month. One time he actually called the sheriff of the county I live in thinking that I went missing. I love him to this day for that. I also miss him terribly, even though there were times he really got upset because he couldn’t influence certain decisions of mine–including who to vote for. You see, if you don’t vote the way the family thinks you should vote, they think you come close to being a candidate for a frontal lobotomy for the simple fact that you break family traditions–at least it seems that way sometimes!
What blew his mind is when I actually would show him how people he supported actually voted on the issues. After that, he never voted a straight party ticket either–at least I do not think he did. It was also after that day he finally accepted the fact that I march to my drum and he didn’t have to worry over it.
As I was growing up, women were still being raised to be home-makers…Well, I didn’t exactly fit the mold. I worked and raised my kids. Sometimes it involved having 2-3 jobs. Again, my life was ran by a clock. People would say “budget your time”…I’d say, “You are so full of it. I work 2 jobs, attend college and am raising kids. I only have an allotment of 8 hours to budget for sleep–and that is if one of my kids isn’t sick!”
After some of my “friends” had kids of their own, they figured out what I meant. I wouldn’t trade those days for anything. They molded me into who I am today. When I am home sick, my boys get me chicken soup and Gatorade! Gatorade! The fix all for everyone’s ailments and/or injuries (according to them)! I think they got that off of Beavis and Butthead to be honest…Want proof? Here it is! Here is a clip from the “Dog Bite” episode!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=60GCIZqoVfw
Well, anyway, just because they are grown now, doesn’t mean that things change. They still need Mom from time to time and it makes her feel pretty good–even though they don’t know it! I keep it to myself a lot. When they get sick, I tend to look in on them, but God Forbid that I actually get them medicine! They refuse to take it for some reason–unless it’s REALLY serious enough to have antibiotics for. Maybe more of that Comanche blood is in them than I thought!
Well, anyway, life is good…I am happy and I love my boys–as well as my unborn grand child…
I’ll know whether to buy for a boy or girl on the 28th and I’ll spill the beans for sure! Take care and have a great weekend! I only hope that all the other Allison’s in the world find this sense of peace…
It was 1978…I was a kid who was going through hell at home. I was abused…I won’t go into every little detail, but my stepmother’s favorite mode of discipline when I was a child was to pick me up and throw me into a cabinet or up against the wall–if she wasn’t waiving a gun at my head…While my classmates enjoyed slumber parties, discovered the opposite sex and enjoyed some normal teen-aged fun–I spent my days and many nights hiding in my room and watching old movies or reading books–even after Judy’s death.
Some of what I write is through a character called “Kit”. She’s merely a facsimile of what I might have been, or am depending on any given day of the week. While my father turned more to his alcohol, and other family members only sought an escape, I followed suit and my pen became my weapon against all evil entities foreign and domestic. I killed off more characters who did horrible things than Dexter–most likely, so I guess you could say I was a “serial slasher with a pen”. It is through these writings that I ended up in a counselor’s office at the age of 15. They really thought that rather than the escape vehicle my writing was, that I was actually planning to harm myself for some strange reason. I think it had more to do with the fact that my stepmother killed herself and my writing became darker with each passing moment.
However this is about a Monday morning in September when I came back to school after her having been buried a few days prior. The whole town knew that she shot herself. I was sleeping with the lights on, still not believing that my chief abuser/warden was gone. It was worsened by the fact that my father left me to my own devices for the most part. The alcohol became the next woman in his life for some time. Before I get into this, I just want to say that in the present, if a teacher does this, he or she can lose their license for it. I found out today that I was vindicated when I found out through a classmate that the teacher who was so cruel (a coach) was fired on the football field not too long after this incident.
I remember walking through the halls that Monday morning…Even some of the kids that picked on me were nice to me. “I am sorry, Tina.” they’d say. Or “If you need anything, my mother said you can come to our house.” etc..Everything seemed okay. I avoided writing in my journal and the teacher, Mrs. Eaves was okay with that. She understood that I just wanted to read that day. I remember what I was reading too…I was reading “Silas Marner“…George Eliot–not my usual Edgar Allen Poe or Samuel Beckett fare. I dreaded going to Biology class because HE was going to be there. This teacher was a pure asshole. He singled students out daily and humiliated them. He picked on the ones that had long hair. We felt more like marine recruits than students in his charge. This incident would be the first nail in the coffin for him.
I walked into the room and sat at the desk where I usually went in the back of the room…He always gave me bullshit before–along with a few other students, but this was not the day he wanted to do that–only he didn’t realize that yet. Somehow, one of the new kids (who truly didn’t realize who I am) asked about suicide and why people do that. I was livid. This is not what I wanted to hear at all. Somehow that student got to ask why women do that when the coach commented, “Women don’t usually go around shooting themselves because they don’t want to mess up their looks.” The class became quiet and those who knew me turned and look back at me. I stood up. I heard one of my classmates say “Holy shit! He’ll kill her…”
“O’Neill what do you think you’re doing? Sit back down.” he said to me.
“Go to hell.” I said as I headed for the door. I left my books and everything on the desk. He tried to grab my arm and was yelling something, but for the first time, I pulled away and ran–not walked–RAN to the office. I slammed the door behind me and they instantly knew something was wrong. I wasn’t crying either. I wanted to, for the first time, really bitch slap that man. I was seething with rage. The principal called me into the office and he and the counselor calmed me down. They called my Dad. Once I calmed down they asked me what happened. “I will never go back to that class.” I told them. They asked why. I told him everything that this coach had said. They had my books brought to the office. When my dad showed up, they had him take me home and told him that I could stay home for a few days with no penalty while they straightened things out.
They talked to my dad for a long time after I went back into the waiting area and sat down. I remember Dad saying something like, “You should have reported him a long time ago for talking to you kids like that. He has no right.” All I said was, “He is the teacher and isn’t he ALWAYS right?” “No. He isn’t. And you’re going into a different class next week but I’m keeping you home for a few more days.” he told me. I went into my room, closed my door and THEN cried a bit. I didn’t want to let anyone see me like that–devastated…
I went back to school that Friday. They had that coach in the office. “Tina, I’m sorry. I had been out-of-town for a week and I really didn’t know what happened.” My response, “You’re a liar. You are mean to us all every day and you treat us like crap. Everyone in town knew so you can’t tell me you never got a phone call or a note in your box. I’m not stupid. That was the last straw and if they put me back in your class, I’m dropping out.” He then said, “Tina I really am sorry. I really didn’t know–” I said something like “Take it up with God. Maybe he’ll believe it but not me. I’m not God.”
Nobody said anything after he went back to his classroom, but I was quickly put into a different class. Another teacher told me she really understood how I felt, but he really wasn’t told about it. That just told me someone dropped the ball. He got fired on the football field as well later on. Evidently he never learned anything from what he did to me. The remark about suicide wasn’t the first time he picked on any of us. Any of us could have fit into “The Breakfast Club“. I was the Ally Sheedy character…Jimmy was the Judd Nelson character…I could go on…If he wasn’t picking on someone for their weight, it was their hair…If it wasn’t how they dressed, it was how they spoke or read…In short, this guy was a pure asshole.
All I want to point out here is that if a teacher bullies a student or group of students, there should be no “probation”. This is abuse and they should immediately lose their license for it the first time they are caught doing it. This stuff still goes on…I’ve seen teachers tell other students, “Don’t say something to (Insert a student name here) because he/she will run back and tell Mommy and we’ll all get into trouble~!” AFTER said teacher had been verbally abusing other students and gotten reported for it several times so where does the “we” come into it? I’ll tell you. That teacher is trying to gain a following–just like gang leaders and wannabes in prison do. I saw this behavior first hand when working in corrections. This is what offenders do to incite others to be cruel to offenders that will not fall into their game or do as they want. Kids have been bullied at school as a result of the manipulation by these educators–especially if the teacher in question “rewards” those who “support” him or her with free time or something…Seriously!
Schools should not be prisons and teachers should not be teaching students how to be “offenders” in a correctional setting. Teachers who engage in this type of behavior are as low as some of the people I had to deal with as a correctional sergeant and not all of them were offenders either. Thank you. I’ve gotten that off of my chest. If you know of a teacher who does this, report it. If you are a teacher and you witness this–don’t be afraid to do the right thing because ignoring it makes you party to it. There shouldn’t be a “code of silence” when kids are suffering at the hands of such incompetent educators. And as for administrators that back these abusers up rather than do their job, fire them on the spot right along with teacher that overstepped his/her bounds.
The Haunted Pen 