Signposts

Today for some reason, I seem to have a…..sense of….importance within me.  In my head I have found myself contemplating the events and “signposts” in my current life.  I am 32 years old and I am a father, a husband, a brother (I think), a son, a boss, and a student (still).  I find myself with no living grandparents, a seemingly lost father, a brother who I think wishes to be lost, a sadly liberated mother, an amazing and wonderfully indescribable wife, and a beautiful baby boy who brings me more happiness than I ever imagined.  I had a thought today, and a lot lately, about my Grandmother McCarty’s funeral.  To be honest, I loved her but never really thought that I would miss her when she was gone.  That is a hard thing to admit but,  there it is.  The unexpected thing though is that, I do, and I had an overwhelming reaction of weeping at her funeral.  I can’t say where it came from but it was unmistakable and almost impossible to stop.  Since then, I have wondered just why that came out so adamantly and I also wonder very much about my Father’s funeral.  When I wept at my Grandmother’s funeral, I could not possibly have been expected to give a eulogy or for that matter, speak a full sentence without losing it.  This bothers me because whenever my Father passes, something must be said.  Someone has to vouch for him to the world he leaves behind.  I feel like it must be me because I feel like I understand him better than almost anyone in this world.  My brother loves my Father as much as I do but I don’t think he understands our Father.  For the same reason, he did not show emotion at Grandmother McCarty’s funeral, he was sad that she was gone but he didn’t really get it.  He is at a dangerous point in his life right now where he is trying to be himself but family is not part of the equation.  I get it, I did it too but it is dangerous because during that part of someone’s life, you can miss things that end up being important.  It only worries me because when he gets back from this period in his life, what will things be like, how connected will he be?

In an attempt to not stray too far from my original topic……my Grandmother Whitmore passed away almost 2 weeks ago and my Mother has been left to clean up the…….well what’s left. Her Mother has truly been gone now for some time, and I can’t imagine how hard that was to watch.  I actually would have to imagine it because I really wasn’t there for it, just quick glimpses of progress along the way….shameful.  Now that she’s officially gone, I hope that my Mom can get back some happiness.  I hope that I can find it within myself to be a tool f or that happiness by way of this amazing family I have started to grow.  Although, I have a slight worry that, my Mom and I are very much different and will find it difficult to honestly connect.

My wife is amazing!  I can’t say that too many times.  My son, Isaac, is more beautiful and wonderful as each day begins.  I find it hard to believe that, this could just be the beginning.  There will very likely be more children, soon hopefully, and Jenn and I still have many years to love each other.  I may actually have a real degree from a real university, imagine that!…….I find it interesting/ironic/laughable that my graduating from college is, to me the most unbelievable thing in my list!  I am tired.  I am happy.  I am content yet I have a thirst for so much more…….life, knowledge, family, understanding, love,…..sleep.

I work with a woman that I both respect a great deal and have a fair amount of………disappointment in as well.  She is my Parents’ age and has a lot of great stories and knowledge she has acquired from her life.  She is a breast cancer survivor/fighter and a mostly open minded person.  But she is also tainted and bitter.  I think sometimes she forgets who she is….or maybe she remembers.  She is an expert at projecting her emotion and sprading it to those she is around.  She becomes this angry and spitefull person who believes that the world really owes her something.  I don’t think it does.  It owes my Father a hell of a lot more.

I find myself in search of honesty.  Not truth necessarily, honesty.  I do not see it on a daily basis and it bothers me.  I was on Youtube searching for eulogies.  I feel like a eulogy is one place where honesty almost always wins over.  I started with a eulogy from a movie called The Bucket List.  It makes my cry every time I see it.  Yes, it is a movie but the feelings and words cut right to the heart of what is really important when it is all over.  I then found a eulogy given by a man named Craig Ferguson.  He is the host of a late night talk show.  Normally, he is a comedian but for whatever reaon, he decided to give a eulogy for his father who passed away only a day or so before.  He sinply told stories of his father that were special to him and then told his father goodbye .  It was …….remarkable.

I really wish that we, as humans, could find it within ourselves to have that same type of honesty with each other on a daily basis.  Would it be the solution to the world’s problems?  I don’t know, but that is not why I want it.  Honesty, is the only thing that I think everybody can understand, respect, and keep with them when it’s all over.  Nothing else even compares.

6-5-95

The following “writtings”  were all together on a piece of paper. None were seemingly related or supposed to be one piece but here they are.

Haunted by your beauty,
I find myself staring into darkness desiring your soft touch.
Divine beauty that everyone searches the world for,
Somehow seems to be everything about you:
The way you smile,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through all of the pain and sorrow,
The rose still smells as sweet as it had in happier times.
Through all the ugliness and tears,
You are still as beautiful to me as the first moment my eyes met you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello stranger,
sitting in the dark
I can’t find my heart.
Heloo stranger,
I’ve been left behind
Somewhere so close to lost.
            I can’t find my way home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Let me go to Kentucky~

What’s holdin’ you here I can’t see,
Leave behind the bluegrass and whatever else they have.
Since you aint goin’ let me go to Kentucky.
Sunday Mornin’ horse races and I don’t know what else.
Would always be at a Sunday evening sorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wipe the sleep from my eyes.
Let me walk away from your goodbyes.

Like when you hit your funny bone

So it’s funny how things turn out sometimes, funny like when you hit your funny bone on something-not really all that funny and it actually hurts alot.  I thought this day was going to be a pretty good day.  It started pretty normal with the same old things-got to work and got some things accomplished, went to school and fought sleep for the entire time and went home for lunch afterward.  As I was driving home, I was talking to my wife on the phone and she was in a refreshingly good mood!  Got home and had a good lunch with her, headed back to work and thought about how it would be nice to see a friend who recently moved out of state but was in town tonight eventhough there were like a million other things that need to get done besides that.  Went to work which went fine, nothing out of the ordinary occured.  Then I left work and called Jen again and she aounded like she was still in a good mood and ready to go and visit with my friends for dinner, she was also extremely hungry.  So I picked her up and we headed to the bar as she told me about her crappy teacher and her fellow classmate who might hate the teacher more than her.  We arrive at the bar and find my/our friends who were sitting out on the patio.

As soon as we sit down, we notice how freakin’ smoky it is due to the stupid smokers and realize that everyone who is already there has already started eating.  Jen explains that there is no way she can handle the smoke and says she needs to leave.  This is where the “funny” part begins.  I ask her if she wants me to leave with her but she does not give me a solid answer one way or the other which basically means that it is my decision to make and as is normal in this type of situation, I chose wrong.  She tells me that she is going to leave and will come back to get me when I am ready.  If this was not a chance to see Mike, who had moved to Texas, I would have left right away with her and figured out dinner together but Mike is a hard person to get to hang out with and talk to so I wanted the chance to catch up.  So here I am sitting with Mike and a few other people I am friends with plus a few others I don’t know/don’t really like that much having just let my pregnant wife leave the bar and drive herslef to most likely home feeling angry and probably unwanted to a certain degree and not to mention starving!  Bad combo.

So I get the chance to talk to Mike a bit but mostly am just sitting there knowing/dreading how upset/angry Jen is and I can’t really enjoy myself any further.  Yes, I ate which I feel guilty about doing the whole time because if I know Jen, she is so mad that she will not go home and eat, she will just stew about this and be stubborn-which wont make anything any better.  So I finally call her and tell her she can come get me and to call me when she gets there on her phone that she had to give me because my phone was in the car.  Well aparently she had been waiting for me for like 5 minutes before I answered but I didn’t know she was calling because her phone only vibrates when it is in its case which she did not give me.  I get in the car and she is obviously mad because of the whole deal but mostly because she didn’t get to eat her chicken wings which she apparently told me she wanted like a million times.  I only heard her say something about chicken wings one time at lunch but I guess I don’t listen-as usual.  So instead of having a good evening with my wife and catching up with friends I get a pissed off wife who refuses to eat because all she wanted to eat were chicken wings and I wasn’t smart/sensitive/nice enough to get some for her to go at the very least.  So now I am sitting in front of the computer unable to focus on my homework while my wife sleeps with an empty stomach and probably a hungry bun in the oven-both still pissed off at me and now I feel like I fucked everything up and instead of looking forward to our ultrasound in the morning, I am dreading the awkward conversation about why I let her go to sleep either with an empty stomach or still mad at me.  Ok maybe that conversation won’t happen (but maybe it still will) but still I am not looking forward to a morning where we get ready while hardly talking to each other and make something that should be exciting and fun into something stressfull.

I don’t know, maybe all will be fine but that is how I feel right now.  I thought writing about all of this would help me feel better but, no.

Last Night, As I Was Sleeping by Antonio Machado

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt-marvelous error!-
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt-marvelous error!-
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt-marvelous error!-
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt-marvelous error!-
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

From the book: The Winged Energy of Delight: Selected Translations by Robert Bly

I Am Too Alone In The World by Rainer Maria Rilke

I am too alone in the world, and not alone enough
to make every minute holy.
I am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough
just to lie before you like a thing,
shrewd and secretive.
I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will,
as it goes toward action,
and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times
when something is coming nearer,
I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone.
I want to be a mirror for your whole body,
and I never want to be blind, or to be too old
to hold up your heavy and swaying picture.
I want to unfold.
I don’t want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded, I am a lie.
And I want my grasp of things
true before you.  I want to describe myself
like a painting that I looked at
closely for a long time,
like a saying that I finally understood,
like a pitcher I use every day,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that took me safely
through the wildest storm of all.

From the book: The Winged Energy of Delight: Selected Translations by Robert Bly

Upside down tomatoes!

One day, I was watching tv and I saw a comercial for a product that allowed you to grow tomatoes upside down.  I thought “now, that’s cool!”  So, I got on-line and typed in “upside down tomatoes”.  I found many links to the company that is selling the product and then I found even more links to blogs and review sites about how bad that company was and how badly they treat their customers.  After that, I found alot of links that explained how to actually grow tomatoe plants upside down without buying that stupid product from that stupid company.

Mini Farm Homestead
OklahomaHistory.net
Old Fashioned Living.com
These are just a couple good sites I found, there are many other good sites you can find.

All you really need is a 5 gallon bucket, alot of soil, a tomato plant and somewhere to hang it.

It sounded easy enough and like something I would like to try to do, so that is what I did/am doing.

I grew about 16 tomato plants from seed (8 Roma and 8 Beefsteak) and they are all getting very big and ready to go outside.  I chose 1 of the Roma plants and put it upside down in a bucket.  I planted some Italian Parsley and Sweet Basil in the top of the bucket and hung it between 2 of my trees in the back yard.  So far, so good.

It has only been 2 days though, so nothing really to report at all.

Office Hours

            “Can you say more about that?”

As Wayne says this, I can’t help but be distracted by the objects in his office.  I have never been in this office before and I always find it interesting to see what a professor keeps in their office or at their desk.  When you see them for a limited time every couple days a week, you get to know them as they are in the class room, not their office, a much more personal space than a classroom.  My eyes focus on a clock on the wall to my right, ticking loudly as Wayne awaits my answer like a punch-line to a joke.  I notice the clock’s frame that is made of a very distinguished, grainy wood, different than most of the furniture in the office.  A desk with a thin metal frame and a Formica like top made to resemble wood.  Chairs that seemed as though they were maybe from the 1970s, when orange cushions looked good.  The clock was obviously a choice of Wayne’s unlike the standard issue community college furniture that, except for the clock, would remain when Wayne left.

            “I tried, but I just couldn’t follow it!” I replied.  This response puts an expected smile on Wayne’s face.

            “Can you tell me why?” he retorts with a more joyous smile.  As I reach inside my expected frustration for the answer, I suddenly feel a rush of fright and I lurch up.  Now sitting in bed, something has awakened me.  My heart is pounding quickly.  Where was I just now?  I seem to feel out of place but that feeling is quickly replaced by fear.  This bed is not my bed, although I have slept here for weeks.  This room and even this house is not my own but we must live here for longer.  I don’t know when we will go home.  I don’t like this house at night, but tonight is especially scary.  Something woke me up, but what was it?

            There it is again!  A strange noise from outside somewhere, like someone laughing, but different.  I quietly step down from bed and creep through the hallway to follow the noise.  As I tip-toe down the hallway, I am especially careful to be silent while I pass the room where my Mom and Dad sleep so I do not wake them.  I notice that only my Mom is in bed.  Slowly, I creep down the stairs, carefully watching my feet so that I do not accidentally step on the bottom of my sleeping gown that my Grandmother bought for me when she came to see me last weekend.  When I finally reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear the noise again but louder.  This time it is not like laughing, but instead it sounds like two people talking.  I don’t recognize the voices.

            The sound of my heart, still racing, is finally being drowned out by the sound of crickets and water splashing gently against something.  I follow the noise in the direction of a very dreamy looking light.  The back doors are open wide and the voices get louder.  I peak my head around the open doorway and brush my hair from my face so I can see clearly where the noise is coming from.  Just as I recognize where the noise is coming from, lightning races across the sky and the thunder follows it, making me jump.  My heart is beating faster now as I finally see where, or rather, who the noise is coming from.

            My Dad, sitting by himself in a chair at the side of the pool is talking to himself.  I cannot understand his words but he is having a conversation, with someone.  I tip-toe closer and I can finally see his face.  He is still talking but, as I can see from his closed eyes, he is asleep.

            “See, now I never really thought of it that way before!” Wayne says as he looks at me from across his desk.  Confused, I pause and try to grasp what I have just … seen….or was it imagined?  I try not to seem utterly baffled by what seemed almost like an out-of-body experience and keep up the conversation.

            “Well if he was a prisoner, how would he have had the chance to go fishing?”  I now feel like I have out thought the master.

            “Actually, I think he says that he never really went fishing.”  Wayne says this as he reaches for the book and thumbs through it, trying to find the story again.  Still a little thrown from the odd thing that occurred just a minute or so ago, I straighten up in my chair.  As I look back up, I am looking in my rear-view mirror as my next passenger opens the door and barks out their location.

            This one is neither pretty nor is she completely ugly.  You can tell they are whores the minute they come into view.  Their cloths are never very well kept but they are only there to cover what their customers want to see anyway.  Some of them are dressed very nicely, I have thought about talking to one of them a time or two but their type never need the use of a taxi.  This one, she talks a lot, most people think that just because I drive this cab all day, I want to talk to anyone who is in it at the time.  The truth is, I can’t stand most of these people and can’t wait until they are out of my cab.  Even though I can not stand these whores, I despise even more the damn tourists.  They get in here and demand I turn on the air conditioner.  I tell them to roll down their windows a bit more and they look at me with disgust.

            These tourists come more and more every year.  The citizens of Mexico are very unwelcoming to them.  They will accept their money but want them to leave their country as soon as possible.  The truth is, they are all tourists.  Most of these so called “Mexicans” are not truly from Mexico.  My family has been here for centuries.  My father and mother lived in the jungles and spoke another language.  They moved me and my brother here when we were little kids.  Back then, this town looked much different.  Not so many people, not so many cars, and not as much trash on the streets.

            My mind wanders as the passenger talks on about all these gringos she “knew” and how she remembers their names.  There was this time when I picked up these two girls at the airport.  They needed to go to Chiapas and I needed some money.  I took my wife’s brother with me so that I would have someone to talk to; Chiapas is a long ways a way and I had never been there before.  The girls in the back were doing ok until we stopped and my brother was drinking some cervesas.  They were really weird and acted like we were going to hurt them.  Those stupid whores wouldn’t know real danger until it was too late.  On the way to Chiapas, in the jungles, we saw many Indians that reminded me of my parents and where I really came from.  They seemed so poor and sad.  Living and sleeping among their animals, they had no cars or for that matter, no real shelter.  I was glad I was living in the city now.  I wanted nothing more than to go back home as we finally dropped off the girls, when suddenly……I was looking at the carpeted floor of Wayne’s office.

            I looked back up at Wayne, “I’m sorry, what was that?”  I tried to act as if I had not just totally gone insane but the questions in my head-what the hell was that? Where was I just now? Am I going crazy? – were all I could focus on.  If I truly was going crazy, I was not going to show it here to one of my professors!  Going crazy is one thing, but possibly failing a class was out of the question!

            “I said, what did you think the fish was symbolizing?”  Wayne was somehow keeping his patience with me even though I was obviously not of a stable mind.  The fish…the fish…oh, right, now I remember!

            “The fish obviously is a captive and being in the bucket must be very closter-phobic for it!” I exclaim, proud that I just pulled that from my…….well, anyway.  Wayne leans back in his chair as it creaks and looks somewhat proud of my answer.  If only he knew just how impressive it really was!

            ”I think you may understand this story better than you think!”  He says this with an expression of accomplishment on his face.  I am trying to focus only on him in hopes that I will not fade out of this office and fall into another…dream or …I don’t know what to call it.  I intentionally look only at his face, ignoring the surrounding office and the other objects like the clock that may distract me from this conversation.  As I do so, I notice that there is a spot on one of his glass lenses.

            “You see, there is never really a right or a wrong answer when it comes to short fiction, it all depends on….” The spot on his glasses seems to really be distracting me even as he is speaking directly to me.  I try to stop focusing on his glasses when I seem to be having trouble seeing anything at all.  My eyes are closed and as I open them, I realize that I am lying on the ground.  As I begin to analyze what is going on, I see that the ground I am lying on is not the carpeted floor of the office anymore, but a jungle floor.

            I look up and take in my surroundings.  I am in a jungle with lush green plants growing everywhere.  As I look around more I see this blazing orange and yellow far ahead of me.  I focus more on it and recognize that it is fire!  It is like a fire I have never seen before.  Everything seemed to be burning, the plants, the ground, and even the air seemed to be blazing with this hellish flame.  I stand up and look closer to the area on fire and slowly start to realize that I am staring straight at what seems to be a person in the flames!  Fright grips my whole body as I practically run out of my boots toward the person.  As I near the flailing body, I am joined by other men who are dressed in green outfits like mine, carrying machine guns on their backs.

            The closer we get, the louder the sound is.  Beneath the sizzling of flesh there is an audible sound of screaming.  Dear God, it’s a little girl!  Only from the desperate, life changing, shrieking could I tell that it was a girl!  Her whole body was on fire.  Her hair was burned off and it was difficult to even tell where her face was as she struggled to breath.  She was desperately trying to tear off her cloths but her cloths had burned instantly and what she was now tearing off her body was her own skin!  When we finally reached her, we doused her with water to put out the flames.  Her screaming only intensified when the water touched her body and in the back of my mind, I wondered if we have just prolonged her suffering instead of ending it.  With the flames finally out, I looked at the other men around me as none of us knew what to do or say next.  Suddenly, we are pushed aside as a large group of villagers make their way toward the girl, lying on the ground.

             During my time here, in Vietnam, I have witnessed some horrific things but I know that this one image of the burning girl will be the image that haunts me in my dreams.  I do not look forward to living with this image but know that in comparison, the rest of that little girl’s life will be worse than I could ever know.  They have taken her back into the village and our medics are trying to help her with her pain.  As I stand here with that image literally burned into my memory forever, I get ready to board the helicopter.  I step into it with my right foot and as I lift and hoist my body into the helicopter, I am distracted by a voice.

            “I know you are frustrated, but staring out that window and ignoring me won’t help.” I hear Wayne’s voice bringing me back to the office.  I find myself standing behind his desk, my face inches away from the window that looks out at the golf course and bike path behind the building.

            “Is everything ok?” Wayne has a tone of concern in his voice now that I must admit is reflective of how I am feeling.

            “Umm, yeah, I think so.  I just need to sit down and relax.”  I turn around and take my seat again in the chair with the orange cushion.  The worried look on Wayne’s face still exists but is accompanied by a smile as I try to refocus on what is at hand.

            “You know, reading and literature is supposed to be fun an enjoyable, not some scary intimidating thing!  I mean what is it that has got you so flustered right now?  It isn’t me, is it?  I’m not a scary guy, am I?”  Wayne questions, still with a smile on his face and a slight chuckle in his voice.

            “Oh, no its not you!  I just… its nothing, really, I’ll be fine.”  I reassure him as much as I can.

            “The thing is, I don’t know why I can’t just read a story and take what the story actually says, not what it might possibly mean to someone else.  I mean, I sit in class and hear other people say that when they read about children who come from the sewers, it means that they were born from hookers!  Why couldn’t they just have come from out of the sewers, like the story says?!”  I take a big breath to replace all the air I had used to complain.

            Wayne begins instantly to laugh harder and says, “Right on man!!  That is what I am talking about!  Your suffering right now in class is what is supposed to happen!, its what makes….” Suddenly, a sharp cry of pain from behind me.  I turn around to see where it is coming from.  There are people everywhere and once again, I don’t seem to be in Wayne’s office but instead, it looks like an emergency room.

            There are people rushing around everywhere.  Doctors and nurses moving double time.  Sick and injured people desperate to get any of their attention for just one minute.  Focusing on the group standing before me, I see one doctor, two nurses, a woman patient, and a man accompanying her.  The woman is lying on her back and is getting a quick look over by the doctor.  I have this strong feeling that I am waiting for something or, someone.  A feeling like I cannot leave this group of people without taking something with me. Directing us to go to another clinic for the woman, we head to the parking lot.

            I follow behind them both as we walk and the feeling that I have yet to do my job is nagging at me.  What my job is, I still am unclear about but, the longer I wait, the greater the need to complete it becomes.  As we approach the car the man and woman discuss who will drive but I head directly to the back seat of the car.  It is decided that the woman will drive.  The man seems to have an uneasy feeling about my presence as he continually looks back at me.  The woman might as well not even know I am in the car as she never directs her attention to me.

            The further we drive, the more and more I feel like I must finish my job.  It is all I can think about and the man becomes more and more a part of my focus.  I can’t control it but, I am watching this man’s every move and every breath he takes.  As seconds tick by, the need to have the man leave with me exceeds.  He looks back at me once or twice more each time with this look of unease.  Finally, we reach or destination and the man and woman get out of the car.

            All at once, it is crystal clear to me why I am here.  I am here to do my job.  There are others like me, who reach out and pull someone from this world to the next.  If you see me doing my job, you will surely be coming with me.  It is not my job to wait until you are ready.  The duty I have beckons me to finish it with accuracy and blind determination.  Today, I am here to once again, as it has been for ages before and will be for ages to come, finish my job.

            I finally exit the car and follow behind the man and woman into a house.  When I walk in, the air grows colder.  There are many people inside the house but only one of them is aware of my presence.  I reach out my hand to grip the man’s shoulder and……

            “Aren’t you forgetting something?” All at once, my whole being is shifted to the doorway of Wayne’s office.

            “What?!” I spin around and see Wayne holding a book in his left hand, trying to hand it to me from behind his desk.

            “The book, don’t leave it here!  I have my own, I don’t need yours.”  Still holding the book out in front of him, I look at it and a shiver rolls down my spine.

            “You know what?  Keep it!  I can’t deal with this…. Literature, any more!”  Before he can answer, I turn around and head down the hallway.  As I reach out to grab the door handle to the stairway, a thought occurs to me.

            “Did I finish my ethics homework?”

Teeth

This has got to be the most jaw dropping trailer I have seen in a LONG time!  It is a serious movie-not a joke but I don’t know if I personally will go see it in fear that it will actually give me nightmares.  Will it really be in theaters?  Who knows.  Will it be a good movie?  Who knows.  The trailer its self freaks me out.  Sorry I don’t have any more for you an this one but……..the trailer speaks for its self.

Cloverfield

Clovefield has been out for about 1 week and since its release, I have heard a lot of good things about it.  I recall seeing previews for it in like November that got me pumped to see it and I have been anticipating it ever since.  J.J. Abrams was responsible  for the TV show Alias which my wife and I were huge fans of and most recently Lost has shown Abrams’ flare for the dramatic, so there is a lot look forward to.

Cloverfield takes a surprisingly long time to actually get to the meat of the movie as you are taken through the preparation of a surprise party for the main character.  Through this, you meet all the people you will be following (literally) through the movie and spend just long enough with these people to get to know them and their stories.

Just as I was getting bored with the movie, WHAM!, the action starts and doesn’t stop!  The whole movie is filmed from the perspective of one of the characters, Hud, holding a video camera and gives the feel of Blair Witch or even MTV.  The movement of the camera was sometimes a bit hard to handle but adds a touch of reality to the movie.  I have heard that Cloverfield is good but unrealistic because it is about aliens attacking the earth but, come on, it’s a movie that’s why we go, isn’t it?  In fact, they never actually confirm that it is an alien attack, in fact they never really claim anything.

Without giving anything away, I thought it was a great movie!  I thought the ending was perfect, and well timed,  If the movie had been any longer, it would have been too long.  I thought the movie was very good at showing how humans would react to something of that cray nature happening to them/us.  My favorite character was Hud.  He is this sometimes annoying, won’t shut up kind of guy, who provides a small bit of comedy relief in this otherwise non-stop crazy movie.  A question occurred to my wife, does the person who plays Hud in the movie truly carry the camera himself through the entire movie or does a true camera man do it and then they add Hud’s voice later?  I don’t know the answer, but it is a good question.

SPOILER INFO~~DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SPOIL THE MOVIE!!

The absence of a true conclusion, is awesome.  Not many filmmakers have the guts to do that but I thought it was great!  I left the movie asking if the human race was doomed because of this “creature” or if we somehow survive.  The movie never clues into that answer except in that this movie is property of the US government and someone is viewing it.  That is all they give as to if there are survivors.  Is it an alien or perhaps a creature from the sea as Hud believes?  No clue, but it is a very cool “creature”.  Lastly, I know that Rob said that their friend, (can’t remember her name right now)-the girlfriend of his brother, was dead but did they actually show that?  I don’t think so.  I think that if they were to make a sequel, they would be able to use her story as the hook, although I don’t think they intend on making a sequel-and they shouldn’t.  The movie is perfect as it is!

In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale

This movie seems to be an attempt at starting the next great epic medieval good against evil series of movies, but after this trailer I don’t think it will have the chance. The first thing that sticks out to me is the casting. Burt Reynolds as a King? Seriously? He was good as Boss Hog in the Dukes of Hazard movie but come on! Then, Ray Liotta as some crazy evil sorcerer, nice try, he was a great “good fella” but I just can’t see him as the possible bringer of destruction. Lastly, Jason Statham as a skinny farmer out for revenge just doesn’t capture my imagination like it should. Honestly, if I was evil, I really wouldn’t be too worried.

After getting over the casting issues, the next thing that bothers me is the one thing that I think movie trailers should never do-give away the entire plot of the movie. Here is what I can tell you about this movie that I have never seen(and will never). This crazy evil sorcerer guy slowly moves across the earth taking over everything his power and his army touches and finally descends upon this kingdom ruled by Boss Hog. King Hog’s army can do nothing to stop him and they resort to asking this, somehow connected to the king, farmer to do the deed of saving the world. The farmer declines because he happens to be shoulder deep in love with his woman and tells the king to kiss it. Suddenly, the king gets ill (poison?) and the farmer’s girl is killed by the evil guy (or so he thinks). Now the farmer wants nothing but vengeance. It is decided that the only way to kill the “Liotta” is to sneak behind the evil army and kill the bad guy with just a small force (like a fellowship perhaps?). Finally, the farmer ends up killing the “Liotta” and saves the world. I know less details of the end, but I am not sitting through all that just to see how it ends.

There you go. I have done you a favor because this movie will be awful and a waste of money. I very much doubt that we will ever see the sequel because they will only make a sequel for a movie that makes money at the box office and this movie will only make it to like #4 on its opening weekend at best. 1 month after its release, it will be gone-finally.

Besides, isn’t Dungeon Siege a video game?