3D

I'm not a fan of 3D films. The first and last time I saw a 3D movie in theaters was a couple of years ago when Avatar was in theaters. I had a headache about two hours into the movie, although that might have been because of the terrible plot just as much as the tri-dimensional experience.

But Beauty and the Beast is going to be in theaters soon. In 3D. I love Beauty and the Beast. I watched it almost every day as a child. My perspective of the world has been forever altered by the film. I love books and France; I loathe hunting and all Gaston-related activities. Beauty and the Beast gave me a pretty clear set of social standards by which I live and see the world. Needless to say, I'll be seeing this one in 3D.

Does anyone else have a movie like that? A disney one, maybe? One that forever altered the way you view the world for better or worse?

I have a cold.

This is day three or four of Christmas break head cold. Tradition. While hopelessly awaiting recovery, I read The Hunger Games. In one day.

I bought the book for my brother for Christmas. I knew he wouldn't read it right away, so I devoured it yesterday afternoon. Now I have to wait three months until the movie. I should probably finish the series over break so I don't die of anticipation.

In other news: I still haven't finished The Scarlet Letter. Ugh.

Already behind

I'm already behind in my break plans. I am barely into The Scarlet Letter and for good reason. Hawthorne's introduction is almost more painful than the new Stephanie Meyer film. Almost. I've been listening to it on Librivox, which makes it slightly more tolerable.

Meanwhile, I've been writing letters to whomever comes to mind. Thus far, I've finished two. Christmas is in four days! I need to finish these letters tomorrow, and I'm not even half way. Wish me luck!

It has been four months,

But I'm back now! I'm home. The sky in Indiana was white from end to end, but here it's still blue. A different world. I'm already accustomed to this one. Bring on the cozy.

Choosing which essay to revise for Dr. Brown is somewhat like choosing which finger you'd like most to lose. You'd rather not, but none are really that outstanding. Ironically, I'm choosing from a pool of ten pieces. The dilemma:


I don't want to choose my pinky, although it's the most practical, because without it I can't properly make promises.

I probably won't ever need my ring finger, but you never know!

My middle finger is offensive, but can you imagine a hand missing only the middle finger? Freaky.

The index finger hits more keys on a keyboard than any other finger. As a writer, that's pretty crucial.

And the thumb . . . he's not a real finger, is he? At least that's what middle schoolers tell me.

Oneword

Inspired by Bethany, I created an account on this site called oneword. I did my first exercise today. I liked it. A nice, one minute challenge per day. I'll have to really start doing this.

Today's word, "obey."

My poem:

"I’ve no choice under the rules
of winter.
I play my cards how I may,
but not even a spade
could dig me out of the
mounds
of snow.
buried."


I could have done better... maybe tomorrow.

I Recently Saw This Chart:

The chart actualized for me this evening. In the course of a half hour, I was mocked for being a vegetarian and a feminist. By a woman. Who then told me she wanted to punch feminists, or as she called them, “anti-chauvinists,” in the face.

I was offended but presented an interesting dilemma. I was, at least in part, certain that she had some form of autism or other social disorder, so I asserted myself as non-aggressively as possible.

Isn’t it interesting when group projects demand more than you bargained for?

Fondu for two

Rather, fondu for five. Cheese and Chocolate. Dinners here have the common theme of being too tasty to want to stop and too much to actually finish.

Thanksgiving with the Johns family

10 Things I like about my first Thanksgiving away from home:

1. The Johns family is hilarious.
2. They made me special, vegetarian food, like my family would have.
3. The day after Thanksgiving, we had Japanese Thanksgiving!

4. I've spent most of my time in an oversized leather recliner.
5. Only two of my professors assigned homework.
6. My homework for this week is easy.
7. Kyle and Matt Lutz surprised us by coming up for a day.
8. We've watched probably 6 or 7 movies thus far.
9. Chris and Anne all the time.
10. The weather outside isn't frightful, which means the world to me.

Richard Simmons Ruined my Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a reminder of how unfunny I am. When I was in seventh grade, my English teacher gave our class a Thanksgiving writing assignment. Most students opted for some form of cliché sentiment, but one boy, Ryan, told the story of a packaged, headless turkey who made a daring escape from his owner’s oven. Everyone in the class thought it was hilarious. The turkey even performed a Richard Simmons exercise routine, clucking, “work those hips,” from somewhere inside his frozen, feathered flesh. Ryan enacted every move. Five minutes passed before our teacher regained control of the classroom.

I was jealous; as a shy seventh grader, I dreamed of my peers laughing at me in a good way, a way that differed from what I was used to. Even now, I can’t even recall my seventh grade English teacher’s name, but every Thanksgiving I remember the story of the reincarnated Richard Simmons’s great escape. The holiday is that one reminder that I never had—and at this point in life probably never will have—that sort of humorous savoir-faire. I’ve come to acknowledge that my sense of humor is ill-received. I’m more likely to get pity laughs from my bad jokes about vegetarians or writing than I am to get any genuine appreciation. My social interactions might eventually teach me the proper way to time a joke, but in the meantime, I’ll bitterly remember Richard Simmons, Thanksgiving, and seventh grade as an inseparable triune. But until I grow into my own humor, not even the discouragement of Ryan’s talking turkey could stop me from trying to tell jokes like, “What did one vegetarian spy say to another? We have to stop meeting like this,” or “A woman walks into a bookstore and asks, ‘Where are the self-help books?’ The sales clerk says, ‘If I told you, wouldn’t that ruin the point?’”

Hungry

I forgot to eat today until fat meal. Yesterday was the same story. I've been hungry, but I've simply forgotten to eat at convenient times. It doesn't help that I've lost my motivation to do homework. All I seem to have hunger for is reading my Bible. Recently, I've been a Bible reading fiend (in the most informal sense of the word). Honestly, though, if I'm going to fall into a distracting habit, Bible reading is the best action I could be addicted to.

Lisa Velthouse

and God have inspired me to fast from processed sugar this month. If you haven't started reading her book "Craving Grace," you're missing out. It's totally where I'm at spiritually. I've encouraged my guys recently to meditate on Micah 6:8,

"He has shown you, O man, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and love mercy
and walk humbly with your God."

I think all of the spiritual disciplines lead us closer to God in our "humble walk." Y'all should pick up the book. At least for a few chapters. Also, consider fasting this month; it's so good for the soul.

This is Halloween.

I'm trying to make the most perfect costume. We'll see if I can pull something cool off. The older I get, the more tacky halloween becomes, but I'm sure this "Harvest Party" they have planned won't be super lame. Especially if everyone dresses up for it. I'm thinking of putting together some sort of roman soldier outfit. Not like 300, but like gladiator or something. We'll see. Other idea: an angel. But I don't want to be mistaken for someone who was paid to attend the party, if you know what I mean. So I'll be avoiding the policeman costume on this one, too.

My assignment: write something that imitates another work. My choice? A GQ letter from the editor: Kiss the Ring. My task now: write a political and inflammatory article of 1000-1200 words. Sort of outside of my comfort zone, but that's good for me, right?

Inspiration

I've decided to write my final classic style essay on my favorite childhood film, Beauty and the Beast, and how it affected my view of the world. I feel so uninspired even with such a great topic. It must be done, though. It must be done.

I want to be a dancer

I think dance is one of the most beautiful forms of art. I so badly want to learn.

I sort of thought he was kidding.

But no. He was totally serious. Our conversation was as follows:

Freshman: "Do you have a car on campus?"
Me hesitantly: "Yes. Why?"
Freshman: "I was wondering if I could hitch a ride over to Beard Art Center."

Needless to say, I did not give him a ride.

Steve Jobs's death overshadows anything else that could possibly happen today. He will be dearly missed by the world, but let's take a lesson from him and keep moving forward. :)

Those you’ve known
And lost, still walk behind you.
All alone,
They linger til they find you.

Michael Bluth and me

Riding on the coattails of Arrested Development's plan to return to television, I am officially announcing my return to Blogger! Nick's Notes is back in commission [we're going to have to work on that name]. I've burned the banana stand with a quarter of a million insecurities and plan to blog regularly this school year. I'm coming back, and I hope you guys do, too.

Move out

I've moved my blog to Tumblr! Follow the link below to check me out!

Les Temps Chics

Judgement

This afternoon, I decided to run a personal social experiment.

My plan was simple: Play Magic: The Gathering in McConn. Magic: The Gathering was a card game created in 1993. It was essentially the game that both Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh stemmed from. MTG shaped a huge part of the male childhood experience. Regardless, it is seen as nerdy. Rightfully so, perhaps.

Zach Arneson and I sat down to play and something interesting happened. People actually noticed. Mostly, their recognition came from snickers. A couple of people were actually audacious enough to confront our nerdiness with disdain. I was surprised when a freshman girl, about five feet tall with a short blond pixie cut approached us and told us that we were some of the most nerdy kids she'd ever seen. I was honestly shocked, and I definitely laughed out loud.

I wonder what gives someone the nerve to approach strangers just to say something so brash. And if we are being so harshly judged for being "different," how much more would we judge those off of our homogeneous campus where society is even more diverse?

soul lost

soul lost

I was a captive to cowardliness,
terrified to tell Ryan where to turn
as he reached out, crawling through emptiness
through the dark
searching,
smoking,
sexing her.

He dropped deeper as it fast approached us.
talks of les trains, I taught about nothing
taught useless words watching wheels convalesce
round and round in his head never halting

Summer’s sun, signaling like crossing lights
the smells of growing grains gives to the air
a sense of adventure into the nights
for which no one can prepare.

He fastened his helmet for four-wheeled ride
through the kernels deafening pop ping pop
he couldn’t hear the mainline, and he did
not hear the rail before he had time to stop.

Underneath the boxcar his soul was snatched
before he ever knew of salvation
Ryan’s bourn burdens hung on tight, attached
to his soul, never with Him relation.

Fear sold me to Guilt I thought I deserved
crippled, whipped, and beaten. Tears for the lost
streamed down my cheeks for his soul not conserved
Il est mort and I have less

Never Let Me Go

After scores of positive reviews, I had been excitedly awaiting the DVD release of the film Never Let Me Go (which I will indeed wait until post-grad to watch unless I can manage to approve it at IWU). While waiting for the film, I decided to read the 2005 novel by Kazuo Ishiguro of the same name. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the novel, having only seen the trailer for the movie. Without much hesitation, I purchased the book and set off on the adventure. Here are my thoughts. I won’t spoil the ending, but it would be too challenging to not mention some of the more crucial plot elements.

The book centers on the lives of three main characters: Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth. The entire piece is from the perspective of Kathy, who looks back on her life and relays the information to the audience. Knowing the little I did about the book, there seemed to be quite a few mysteries unbeknownst to the audience, as well as Kathy. These mysteries unraveled slowly and somewhat painfully. I easily became emotionally attached to the characters in the beginning. They were young schoolchildren, struggling to find answers to their existence.

As their childhood progresses, something seems off. Not with the students, but with their situation. The students themselves seem remarkably normal, enjoying sports, imagination, and learning. They seem to attend a boarding school called Hailsham, where they are tended to by “guardians.” About a third of the way into the novel, it is revealed, if the audience hasn’t yet caught on, that these students are clones created for the sole purpose of organ donation. Because of the seeming banality of their situation, these students quietly and calmly accept their fates.

The way Ishiguro left their life purposes a secret in the beginning gave the audience an opportunity to connect with Kathy and the others on a more human level than it would have otherwise allowed. The audience’s ability to witness the purity of their childhood souls contrasted the society’s view of the clones. Their not-so-far-off fictional society turns a blind eye to these poor “creatures.” They aren’t recognized as humans, let alone beings with souls.

As the story progresses, situations arise in the characters’ lives that parallel those we might experience, further solidifying the audience’s human bond with them. One example I distinctly remember was an incident where Kathy catches Ruth in a lie. She plots to expose Ruth, a move which she labels justice. Kathy plans the incident out perfectly, and executes it similarly as well. After her words of accusation come from her mouth, though, trapping Ruth, Kathy didn’t feel that sense of satisfaction she had once desired. Instead, she felt guilty, pitiful, and a little disgusting. Of course, Ishiguro hardly had to describe her feelings, the audience can formulate its own emotion based on its own experiences. Kathy exposed herself to vengeance and its consequences.

This book takes a serious look at what it means to be human and the bonds we share whether we were created by womb or by test tube. It ethically examines the consequences of seeing humanity as a commodity, shaming our consumeristic mindset. It shows the dirty, gritty realness of true love and sacrifice. It reveals aspects of our own souls we can only find by examining another’s. It challenges the extents we will go to as a society to get what we want. It challenges me on a personal level to seek truth and compassion.

If you don’t mind a slow, downbeat read with glorious substance and a deep, lasting end result, I would highly suggest reading Never Let Me Go.