Thoughts on Precious

I just got home from watching precious. From what I saw in the trailers it seemed like it was going to be a great movie. In fact, it was perhaps one of the most highly anticipated movies of the year for me. I am a sucker for a dramatic movie. I'm not just talking star crossed lovers torn apart by fate (though that will hold me over just fine.) I'm talking about gut wrenching, rip your heart right out of your chest, stomp on it and make you cry type of drama. I'm talking the greats, Shindlers List, Hotel Rwanda and American History X.

Happy movies just dont do it for me. I can laugh, but I easily forget those movies. I was raised in such a fake culture, where everyone wears a smile as default... that happy almost doesn't feel real to me sometimes. I like drama that will shake me from the shallowness of everyday life and make me feel alive. I do prefer a cathartic cry rather than a good laugh.

Though I do like a good tragedy, I must say that Precious was a major fail in my book. It has to be realistic or at least relatable on some level. Otherwise I will disconnect. I can understand genocide because I've studied it in school. I can understand racism because to a certain extent, I've experienced it. Precious was so overdone, I disconnected and just wanted the movie to end.

At first, it seems right up my ally. Clarice Precious Jones is a 16 year old morbidly obese black girl living in a ghetto. I believe its Harlem, I forget. She is falling through the cracks of the educational system. Shes 16 and still in middle school whats worse is that shes pregnant with her second child and in a physically abusive home where her mother routinely tried to beat her over the head with pots and pans and daily bombards her with messages that shes worthless. This drew me in, and I would be raving about this movie if thats where it stayed... however as the story kept unfolding, I began to disconnect.

We come to find that Precious' first child was actually born with downs syndrome. Her father is sexually abusing her and is the man who has impregnated her twice now. She has been suffering though sexual abuse since the age of three by her father. When her mother sees precious' new child, she holds him and throws him on the floor and proceeds to beat precious and even throw a TV at her head to kill her. Thankfully Precious escapes. She is illiterate and has little prospects for a future, any hopes she may have had are dashed when her mother comes to visit her and informs her that her father (who has been abusing her) has died........of AIDS. Precious gets tested and finds out she has AIDS as well.

imagine two hours of this. where every fifteen minutes another bomb is dropped. There was no resolution in the movie save her walking away from her mother. Life sucks for her and there is no way out. I don't need a happy ending... but I do need an ending. Shindler fled penniless as a war criminal, the war ended in Hotel Rwanda, and Derek's brother is shot and killed after he recants white supremacy. I don't need a happy ending, but I need an ending none the less. There was simply too much drama in Precious to where I could no longer relate and wondered "what's next? is she going to be bitten by a rabid dog too?"

don't waste your money.

I snuck into new moon afterwards hoping to get a decent movie. It was mediocre at best, but hey I didn't expect oscars from them, its a tween novel. I was much more disappointed by Precious.

Does this make me an enemy of God?

I was watching some of the weekend news programs when I was made aware of a convention being held in Copenhagen this December which would seemingly instill a one world governing body that would be in charge of redistributing wealth. In the interest of full disclosure, I will admit that I am an avowed classical liberal... this usually translates to Republican. I believe in a small government and a free market society with little oversight other than to protect the interests of its constituents. I was asked recently what the difference between Democrats and Republicans are. I came to the conclusion that Democrats believe Government is the answer to our problems, while Republicans believe Government is the problem. But, I'll let that end here because this post wasn't about political ideology.

In any case, I have been seeing transnationalism growing as of the past couple of years. I have been hearing rhetoric from our government about being "citizens of the world" and that we should submit to a global community rather than our own self interests. I see this inevitably leading to a one world government. I'll make no bones about it... I am a Christian as well if you haven't been able to tell from my previous posts. According to Christian prophecies, the world is indeed headed toward a one world government and will be headed up by a dictator who will wage war on all those who are disloyal to him and particularly Christians who refuse to worship him. This may seem far fetched, but its becoming more a reality every day.

That being said, I find myself having a little crisis of faith.

Being that I am such a classical liberal and believe in small government. Being that I take every opportunity to speak out against the ever growing government and that I consistently vote for smaller government at every election... does this make me an enemy of God? I whole heartedly do not want to see the events of Revelation transpire in my lifetime. It is apparent that God is working to that end, while I am fighting tooth and nail to avoid it. Should I just stand aside and be led into tribulation and possibly martyrdom? Should I let people be killed in the future one world government simply because I read that's what God's will is? or should I work against it?

I am trying to not take this so serious for my own sanity. But I am interested in any comments?

Enjoying My Time Off

I can finally enjoy my unemployment.

I've got a job and will begin working on November 16th. So until then, I'm posing as a starving artist. Im writing in my Pjs and reading over a cup of tea.

(when I'm not watching Fox News Channel and CMT)

Writing helps me understand God

This month I've undertaken the challenge and joined NaNoWriMo. (National Novel Writing Month) basically its a contest where you write 1600 words a day and by a month, you should have a rough draft of a novel. The operative word is "rough draft" you are going to re-write and re-write until you can't stand your novel anymore, but as Mark Twain once said: "Great novels are never written, they are only re-written"

Anyhow, I find myself amazed by God in my writing. I am having such a hard time figuring out the life of one character. From this one character spring forth other characters I must also create and understand. I am the God of my book. I create the world and its rules. I create my character with its temperaments, and I orchestrate the events which happen in their lives.

I realize there really is a plan. Before the characters came into existence they were in my imagination. Literally... before the foundations of their world, I knew them! I know my characters before they are ever born. I have a good plan for my character though I see the pain they will go through. Even the hideousness of life will be used by me to bring about beauty. Consequently I am learning that I can trust Him.

There is an old story about an encounter Tolkien had with C.S. Lewis. Lewis was once having an argument with Tolkien about God, C.S. Lewis was then an atheist. Tolkien made the following analogy. "Suppose you created a whole world in a story, you grew your characters and loved them. Supposed now that you wanted to introduce yourself to your characters? you are totally outside of their time and space. Your reality is completely separate from their reality. How would you introduce yourself to them? simply, you write yourself into the story." Tolkien was making the analogy that the only way we can know God is through the person of Jesus Christ who is God and became man like us.

I am blown away by how much I've learned about God in these past two days. Truly God is so far outside of my understanding, my reality, my realm and space that there is no way conceivable that I would know Him unless He wrote Himself into my story. He does have a master plan and I should rest in it knowing that I am part of a beautiful story. Even the darkness exists to contrast with the light. There is a hope in the fact that the master author is writing the story. He finishes on sentence, rereads it and smiles because he knows how the book is going to end.

A new leaf?

There once was a man named Eric Blair. He was a Briton and was very unhappy with his life, in fact no one ever really thought he'd make anything of himself. Unsure of where he was headed and with no direction or ambition to speak of, young Blair decided that he would join the Indian Imperial Police (remember, India was ruled by Great Britain then.) After retiring from the Indian Imperial Police - which he hated - Blair went back to his family's home in England and locked himself in his room.

Barely anyone saw him for the span of a year.

By years end, he emerged from his room declaring that he wanted to be a writer and would then go on to write some of the best English literature by the name of George Orwell.

I've been lounging around in my room this week... I think I want to write. I don't really need anything to be published, I doubt I ever will. But I think I want to write fiction. I want to write about people. I want to write stories of redemption. I want to write tragedies. I want to hear the *tlak, tlak, tlak* of my keyboard. I just want to create.

I've gotten four books on writing this week. Books on how to build plots, how to set up scenes, how to write dialogue and create characters. I am reading this weeks novel "Less than Zero" with new eyes. I never understood how much work went into the book, and how real fictional characters must become before they can be put on a page.

I was reading an interview with the author of "Pop Salvation," Lance Reynald. He created a whole playlist or soundtrack for his novel. How brilliant! I looked over the list and I kid you not, though no songs were mentioned, I heard each song throughout the book! I'm learning about character profiles and how much you have to know your character to get him right. I have to know every little detail such as his favorite smell, is he a dog or cat person? lefty or right handed? even though I may never write a single sentence about his favorite smell being play-doh and crayons, I must know this to make him real. He must be a real person to me if I am ever to convey him in a real way. I stand amazed.

I was having a discussion with a friend of mine about words. I love words. I love how some words sound. I love how some words just fit perfectly. Like behoove. I love the word behoove. Its a perfect word. I could say:

"It would be to my benefit if I took physics this year, instead of the next"

or

I could say: "It would behoove me to take physics this year, instead of the next"

Perfect word.

she said I have a writer's mind. I also like the word snarky and aloof. They sound just like what they are. lets see if anything good comes out of this little foray into writing?

Thoughts on Pop Salvation by Lance Reynald

I was kind of in a frisky mood the other night. I love books, and typically I know which ones I want to read. I either know of them because they are classics like 1984 and Atlas Shrugged or perhaps from notoriety and fanfare like the DaVinci Code. But its safe to say that I usually know the plot line of the books I am going to read before I purchase them. 

In any case, I was in a frisky mood. I wanted to go into Barnes and Noble and pick up a book I'd never heard of and get lost in a story. I wanted to meet someone new and have them hold my hand and guide me through a story worth hearing. I wanted to fall into a story rather than intentionally show up. I knew it would be fiction and I didn't want a period piece. (I'm still working through Les Miserables, and wanted to at least return to the familiarity of the 20th century.)

Then I came across a hot pink cover in a sea of mauve, browns, and burgundies. The book went by the title of Pop Salvation and claimed to be a coming of age story set in the 1980's. Not too much information, I just knew its a fictional coming of age story set in the 1980's. It was also 239 pages and didn't seem too intimidating. This would do for today. (Just in case, I also picked up a biography on Golda Meir in case my little foray into obscure literature proved fruitless.) 

I got lost in the book from its first chapter. Written in first person omniscient, I almost lost sight of the book and the words in front of me. Rather it was more like I was sitting in a room with a stranger and we just happened to pick up a conversation. He was telling me of his childhood and growing up. I almost sensed the inflections of his voice as he would pause to reach back and grab another memory. 

His name was Caleb Watson a Texas boy who moved to Washington D.C. with his father at the age of 12. Extraordinarily gifted but also ostracized by his classmates. His only friend a teacher who helps him with enunciation to get rid of his southern drawl. On a field trip He comes across an Andy Warhol painting of Marilyn Monroe's lips and is mesmerized by the sheer beauty in it. His teacher recognizes this and suggests to Caleb's father to enroll him in an art school for the summer. There he learns technique as well as comes in contact with other artistic outcasts like himself and learns how to be different with a purpose. He begins to bleach his hair and emulate his icon, Andy Warhol in speech and dress. 

His father and teachers become concerned at his non-conformity. Not wanting to be bothered with the actual task of parenting, his father places young Caleb in therapy in hopes the therapist will straighten him out. This is all just the beginning of the book. I could recount the plot but then I might as well just transcribe the book onto this blog. 

Caleb turns out to be gay (or at least bi-sexual.) I thought it was crafty of the publishers to hide that fact from me until I was well into the book. I typically don't make a habit of reading gay fiction. Mainly because it is more often than not mislabeled fiction, when in reality its erotica. Secondly because in this day and age gay characters seem too politicized. People make a gay character not because it adds to a story but because it makes a social/political statement. Personally, I don't enjoy homosexuality being rammed down my throat (if I may put it so bluntly.) 

But this was different. Caleb was gay, not because the author wanted him to be gay to make a statement, but because thats what Caleb was. It was the only way Caleb could have been in this story. He was the complete outcast. It wasn't a story about a gay kid. It was a story about a kid who happened to be gay. Under these circumstances I could stand to keep reading it. 

Caleb radiates an innocence and naivete about him. Through the book he is constantly taken advantage of by those who should have protected him. Either through the neglect of his father, or the misguiding of his elders. He suffers though his teen years what few suffer in a lifetime. In one chapter he walks the city streets and says "I was one of those people you ran into and wondered, what had he been before he gave up?"

That line stuck out to me, because throughout the whole book I wondered What might he have been had life turned out different? what would life had been like if his father paid him attention. What would his life had been like if he never met that transvestite? or perhaps if he'd never been exposed to drugs? what would his life had been like if people affirmed him when he was Caleb rather than when he pretended to be Andy Warhol?

Nearing the end of the book I commented to my roommates "I understand the pop in the book but I'm still waiting for the salvation part." Thankfully, Reynald does wrap the book up at the end with almost a sigh of relief. Perhaps a bit hurried in some regard but more than adequate. His pain is not resolved, but finally Caleb finds strength to stand on his own again and face the world. But it is not without the loss of a few friends and loved ones along the way. 

I'd give this book 4 stars (out of five.) because though I thoroughly enjoyed it and got lost in the story, I reserve the fifth star for books of consequence. Books like 1984 or Atlas Shrugged which are not just stories about people, but are stories about societies. This book was a great story about a person, and it was worth every penny. I loved it. I read it in one day, but at the end of the day I put the book on my shelf and reminisce on what a great story that was and go to sleep. 

The League of the Unemployed

Its been slow. I know. Perhaps I will have more time to update my blog now that I am unemployed and make sense of these seemingly random revolutions around the sun. 

For one, yes I have now joined the league of the unemployed. Hopefully its a stint that won't last for too long, but one can never tell. It just wasn't working out at my job. I am unsure as to whether God lead me there, (I always thought He did) but I am thoroughly convinced He orchestrated my being let go. I needed to resign but my pride would not let me do so. I thank my boss for letting me go, firing me when I didn't have the strength to quit. Perhaps I'll be angrier when I have to skip a meal and my lights are turned off... but I still love my boss. Most of all, I am looking forward to being friends rather than co-workers.