Collegiate Handbook Stills

Ok, this is the last one I'm going to phone in for a while. But this is something I made quite some time ago on a whim. Every college movie needs a set of stills to the tune of louie louie. Keep this stuff in mind though, because it'll be out just as soon as the DVD art is done.

Stroke of Luck

This was the student film that was supposed to win me festivals and awards, but I never submitted it to anything but Open App. I'll have to do that.

Agency Culture

Like most cultures, Advertising can be broken down into the classic high school hierarchy.

Creatives- The 'Cool' Kids-
Copywriters, Art Directors and Creative directors have the most competitive and high profile jobs, so one can hardly blame them for thinking they are cooler than everyone else, especially when about 1/3 of the agency backs them as the height of cool.

Broadcast Production/Studio Artists- The Burnouts-
BP and studio are often tossed in with creative, but the attitude is totally different. No one at a big agency is laid back, but this group comes close. People expect, as they walk into my dark and out-of-the-way office, to look through a haze of pot smoke.

Account Services- The Jesus Kids-
Because they deal so often with the client, AS is high strung and so painfully full of fake cheer that it makes you want to deck them.

Traffic- The Jocks-
Traffic is the mystery department, even to advertising students and people in the agency, but basically what they do is bully people into getting their work done on time. They are also the most mobile department, going all over the agency to apply needed pressure.

Public Relations/Marketing- The Nerds-
When I say nerd, I don't mean smart. I just mean nerdy. One might think that marketing would be pretty bright, but... nope. At least not at my agency. These guys do probably the only typical office work at an agency, though. Research and phone calls and paperwork. Dullsville.

Interactive Developers/IT- The Computer nerds-
These are the guys that would be playing D&D in their moms basement.

Human Resources- The Faculty-
With every unruly group of people there has to be a controlling force. HR is that ill equipped force.

Media Planning- The Overachievers-
We all have that friend who tries too hard. They're not really our friend because we like them, but more because they forced their way into our circle, like a child cutting in line at an amusement park.

Media Buying- The Outcasts-
We don't like them, they don't like us.

New Business- The Wannabees-
In every school you have your 'cool kids' and the group of clingons that try to hang out with them. New Business is that group of sycophants.

Office Management- The White Trash-
I don't relate office management to white trash to insult them, they are possibly the only department who earns their salaries.

Direct- The Rest-
What most people forget when structuring a high school hierarchy is that there is a vast mid-section of people with no discernible identity. That describes direct to a fault.

Bertha's Revenge

Possibly the greatest thing ever.

NSAC Coke Spot

This is a spot I did for National Student Ad Competition. There are some things I would have done differently. Namely the coke silhouette would have been done in post, but I still like it.

TV vs. Video Games

When I was a kid my video game usage was severely restricted, while TV was viewed as more or less neutral. If I was being punished, which was more often than not, video games was the first thing to go, whereas TV was almost never restricted. The occasionally during the summers when my sister and I did almost nothing else, my mother would put a limit on how much TV we could watch a day, but I honestly think it was just so she could find something else on her long list of things to nag us about.

But enough about my traumatizing past, and moving on to the point: TV is f'n awful for you. It totally rots your brain, while video games are often good for it and in a worst case scenario, neutral.

Anyone who has studied communication even the slightest knows that TV is a cold medium. One of the very few, and probably coldest. A cold medium is one that you don't have to interact with to be using (I'm sure Becky will correct me with a better definition). Reading materials are hot, video games are hot, even movies are hot. But TV (radio as well, but that's totally different usage) is just there, a continuous stream of consistently lowered standards. Like Carlos Mencia or George Bush.

After years of not bothering with it, if I spend a day off watching TV my brain hurts for lack of use. However, if I spend that day playing video games my eyeballs may be bleeding, but
my mind is racing. Of course, I do watch TV seasons on DVD, but in the same way that a movie is much hotter than TV, the way I watch seasons of TV shows on DVD is better for me than TV itself. Since they are shows I like, I pay full attention and rarely do anything else but eat while watching. That isn't to say that if you pay full attention to TV and turn it into a hot medium that TV is good, it also has a lot to do with the quality of programing. The TV shows that I watch lend themselves to additional thought: I think about the metaphor in Buffy, I dissect the joke in Simpsons, Futurama and Scrubs to see the format, or I contemplate why I'm watching Angel again. Typical TV broadcasting allows you to just shut your mind off, specifically with bad dramas, game shows and reality TV. So TV can be fine if you watch decent shows, but that is becoming more and more difficult.

Even if TV were better, it would still take a backseat to video games. Video games take a lot of heat from the media, and the only thing anyone can say for them is that they improve hand eye coordination. Well, hand eye coordination is only extremely important if you're a surgeon or an assassin. What video game supporters so often forget to mention is the mental reward you get from them. Even if you ignore mental games like Brainage and Word Coach, while playing a game the player still solves puzzles, reads and applies, does simple math in many cases and in almost every game subconsciously or consciously plans a strategy. In addition to the natural mental exercise a video game provides there is an almost entirely untapped educational potential there. When I was in the 9th grade I learned more about Ghengis Khan in Age of Kings than I ever did in any history class. Once we move gaming beyond leapfrog and geometry wars in education, parents will take a breath from blaming video games for ruining their kids and start using it to babysit them again.

I'm not going to preach something like 'Your brain is a muscle, use it or lose it.' mostly because I hate people who say that and I want them to choke on their own condescending words (people who say that are all stupid anyway, perhaps it's from experience), but I will say that if I ever have children I will discourage TV as a leisure activity and encourage video games, in addition to exercise.

Very Creative Name

God of War 1 is the picture of an action game. It is short, brutal, and lots of fun. So over the last 10 months every time I saw God of War 2, I was itching to pick it up. But I always stopped myself. I wanted to rent it first. What if it was as short as the first edition? Well, I finally
rented it and I'm very glad I did. Not only is it as short as the last one, it's far, far worse.

The fact that it's bad is surprising not only because the first one was so good but also because it's the same fuckin game as the first one. The chain swords from the end of the last one, about 90% of the same enemies, almost ALL of the same moves and very similar magics. There is a bit more jumping and swinging in this one, though, and expansive camera angles that all had me thinking 'Are they trying to be prince of persia'? And that was before I got the ability to slow time.

It's fucking hard. This isn't a bad thing in theory. I like my games hard. But this one is outrageously hard, and not in a fun way. The kind of hard that makes you howl into the night like a wounded dog or clench your jaw until your teeth shatter. Bosses that take 2 to 3 unblockable hits to kill you and regular enemies that can kill you without drawing breath if you make the mistake of jumping around them. About halfway through the game I just gave up and after my 17th death fighting a miniboss who could kill me before I could move I just gave in and switched it to easy mode. I'm pretty sure it was the first time I've ever had to go to easy mode on anything. Maybe it was me, though, maybe it didn't match up with my gaming style. Or maybe I didn't get the totally unintuitive trick to each boss. Which leads me to...

This game was designed to sell guides. All of the puzzles and little tricks to things aren't something that one uses logic to figure out. They have no pattern to them like puzzles in Zelda or prince of persia, they give a totally open situation, with no hint of how to solve it and then let you go nuts. It's terribly frustrating.

And still, perhaps the worst thing about the game was the 'story'. In GoW1 they touched on the story at parts, but it was mostly about Kratos and his torment, then you went right back to tearing people open. This game, however, must have had greek mythology buffs reeling, because even with my modest knowledge of the subject I could tell there was some serious artistic licence taken. In that respect, they tried to cram as many mythology cameos as they could in the 10 hours of gameplay. (Kratos was strong enough to hold off Atlas, but he had a knock down drag out fight with f'n Icarus) Not to mention Kratos's shift from a tormented angry soul to a whiny, selfish dickhead. I'm sure Godhood isn't humbling, but I don't want to play as a dickhead. Evil, fine, good, fine, allergic to peanuts, fine, dickhead, no.

The verdict: Don't waste your time.

Tragically hip

Something that occurred to me today was that unlike the rest of the world, barring many rock stars, copywriters stay hip as they age. They have to. They have to identify with people half their age on a lot of accounts.


I'm sure it has it's pluses. You never turn into just an old person, you're a hip old person. But doesn't that go against nature? Would you want to be a hip old person? Half they pleasure of getting old is shaking your head at the things kids are up to nowadays. Hell I'm 22 and I shake my head at half the things that have changed since I've been in high school.

This really wouldn't affect me if I was a copywriter because I'm not hip now, so there is nowhere to go but down.

Another short story

This one I plan to rewrite one day to make it suck less. And maybe turn into a short story series.

Arkin, Prince of New Jersey

Once upon a time there was a kingdom called New Jersey. And the prince of this kingdom was named Arkin. Arkin had been learning the ways of a prince for his entire life. He was required to be a good and proper prince so he could one day take over the great kingdom of New Jersey after his father, King Leroy, died.

One day when Arkin was 21 and about to graduate from Prince College he received a letter from his father. He had been studying the nomenclature of all of the beasts in the kingdom for his New Jersey creature final in a few days time. A man appeared carrying a thick roll of parchment. A man walked in behind him carrying with him a trumpet. The man blew a sharp tune into his horn and cried out in a stentorian voice.

'A letter from the great King, the King of all Kings-'

'Yes, yes,' interrupted Arkin 'I know my father's introduction, no need to say it every time.'

Arkin took the letter from the man who held it and dismissed the men. He read the long letter to himself. The letter really could have been about 2 or 3 sentences. The length didn’t surprise Arkin, though. It was representational of his father, who loved pointless fluff and added it into every letter and speech he had anything to do with. His father requested that he come home immediately, there was an urgent matter that required his attention. Arkin was surprised at this request, however. King Leroy knew he had finals in a few days and rarely ever asked for Arkin's help with anything.

Knowing it must be important if his father was summoning him at such a crucial time, Arkin made his way down to the stables. He only hoped they were not going to war again. Arkin had been 15 last time they had gone to war with the kingdom of Vermont and he was not keen to have the same experience. Arkin had wanted to fight in the war, but his father, determined not to have him hurt, had locked him in the dungeons for the 2-month duration.

Arkin made his way over to his favorite giant dog, Whiskers, and saddled her up. He climbed on and began to make his way toward his home, New Jersey castle.

He arrived early the next morning. After giving Whiskers a giant chew toy, he headed up to his father's chambers. He knocked on the door and his father called him in.

'I'm here, father,” said Arkin, kneeling.

'Oh, good!' replied King Leroy 'Stand up boy, and let me have a look at you. Oh, good, good.'

'Why have you summoned me, father?' asked Arkin, put off by his father's cheeriness, obviously there was nothing wrong. 'I have to be back for finals in a few days.'

'But that is why you are here! It's the final of all finals.'

'What do you mean, sir?'

'Oh, it's killed me not to tell you. Well, sit down and you'll hear it now. In the final year of a prince's schooling he does not take the regular finals. Instead, he puts everything he knows into practical use. He takes a long journey.' Here King Leroy paused and looked at him.

Arkin said nothing. His father seemed to be holding something back. Never knowing the king to be disingenuous, he listened on, apprehensive.

“He goes on a quest…” Leroy continued, “to find his queen.”

Arkin was surprised, but still said nothing. His thoughts strayed to a girl in his fencing class. He didn’t know her name, but this seemed like a good chance to find out.

“Now, you have been betrothed to the princess of California since birth-”

“What?! Why?” Arkin burst out. Normally an outburst like this would earn him a severe reprimand from the king, but it seemed that Leroy expected this because he continued calmly.

“To improve international relations, of course.”

“But what if she’s an ugo?”

“The welfare of your people is much more important then the attractiveness of your wife.”

“She IS an ugo, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know, Arkin, I’ve never met her.”

The injustice of it did not sit well with the prince. All of his life he had trained to be a good prince and a good king. He had taken the task without complaint, confident that he would be rewarded. He thought he would, at the very least, have some good adventures after he graduated. But now it looked like that would be impossible, he was going to be tied down by a wife. And this wife could be ugly or worse, a Unitarian! Arkin knew there was no point in contesting the point, ancient enchantments bound him to do things like this, this was a quest that he had to take.

“But if I’m already betrothed, what am I to do on this journey, father?” Arkin asked

“You’re to go to the kingdom of California and collect your future wife.” The king responded, glad to see Arkin was taking things in stride.

“All the way to the kingdom of California? Alone? Can’t she meet me halfway or something?”

“You’ll have help. Whiskers can go with you.” The king said, ignoring Arkin’s last question.

“Whiskers isn’t much help for anything but travel.”

“A denumerable amount of knights offered to go with you but the ancient magiks will only allow anyone who doesn’t know of your status to help you.”

“When am I to be off?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I shall go and get ready.”

“Wait, Arkin, there is something else you must know. This is a eleemosynary mission, you are bound to help everyone you can along the way.”

“Yes, father.”

Then Arkin when to his own chamber and began to pack what he thought might be useful. He piled everything into a pack, snatched up his moneybag and went down to the throne room to meet his father.

There was a long and boring ceremony Arkin had to attend before he was allowed to leave. He was dressed in the clothes of his ancestors and given officer flags and other ornamentation to wear. Then the court choir sang a nasty sounding traditional song. Arkin put up with another half dozen performers before he was finally escorted to the castle gates. King Leroy stepped forward from the group who had accompanied him.

“Arkin, I am very proud of the man you’ve become.” The king said.

Arkin was surprised; his father very rarely paid him a compliment. The old man was just one surprise after another lately.

“This is a letter for the king of California.” Leroy continued, handing Arkin an envelope “Take care, son.”

Arkin was glad to see that the letter had not been sealed. This meant he could expurgate it before he gave it to the foreign king. He said his goodbyes and turned to the world outside as his escorts made their way back to the castle.

As soon as everyone was out of sight, Arkin quickly dumped all of the crap that he had been dressed in at the ceremony in the castle dumpster. He quickly walked down the road, Whiskers trotting along behind him, and stepped into a shop. He found a nice sword and shield, which he strapped to his back, and a good set of traveling clothes. He pulled out his moneybag and paid the man. Normally the man would not expect reimbursement from the prince, but Arkin told him that he was bound to not accept any help from people who knew he was a prince. When the man finally grudgingly accepted Arkin’s money, Arkin walked out to Whiskers and mounted the hairy beast.

And they were off. Arkin and Whiskers rode for days until finally they reached the edge of the kingdom. Arkin knew he was at the edge because there was a sign that said “Welcome to the kingdom of Pennsylvania” just ahead, and a surveyor had put up some pink tape along the border. He decided that it was a good spot to stop and let Whiskers have a rest. He led her over to a stream and dismounted.

“Well Whiskers, we won’t be seeing this kingdom for a while.”

Whiskers did not answer but bent her big hairy head down to the stream to lap up some water. That’s when Arkin saw it. A flash of movement in the field behind them. Arkin had his sword and shield off of his back and in the ready position so fast that Whiskers stopped drinking to see what was going on. Arkin saw the flash again, but this time he got a glimpse of what it was. He was almost positive he saw a sheria. Sherias were snake like creatures with heads that almost looked human. Arkin knew from his classes that they loved nothing more then fresh dog. He glanced at Whiskers, who was looking at him with her head tilted slightly to the side. There was no way he was going to convince her to run before it was too late. The prince loved his dog but he knew that there were few other dogs as dumb as his.

Arkin saw the flash of movement again, much closer this time, and raised his sword and shield. He moved to a more strategic position to keep himself between the sheria and Whiskers. When the beast struck, he was ready. The sheria raised its ugly head out of the grass and Arkin smashed it in the face with his shield. He pulled back his sword when someone screamed.

“Stop!”

Arkin stopped just in time; his sword had been about to eviscerate the sheria. A girl ran up to him and patted the sheria on the head. It shot into the grass and lay completely still.

“Sorry,” said the girl “Curly must have smelled your dog.”

Arkin looked at the gross thing lying at his feet and honestly could not come up with a worse name for the beast, except perhaps fluffy, or something of that nature. Then Arkin’s gaze drifted to the girl. She was around his age and was a particularly zaftig girl. He remembered himself and raised his eyes to her face. She was looking at him, so to avoid any awkward situations he tried to make small talk.

“Do you live around here? I haven’t seen any settlement for quite some time.”

“No,” the girl replied, “I’m on a journey.”

“Really? Me too. My name’s Arkin.”

“I’m Kara.”

They shook hands. Arkin was please she didn’t know who he was. Perhaps he could convince her to travel with them. Then he remembered Curly. She was petting the disgusting thing and it was making a sickening cooing sound.

“Is that thing your pet?” Arkin asked.

“Curly is my guardian and good friend.” Kara responded coldly.

“What good is a sheria? They can’t do anything useful.”

“They have plenty of uses. I think we’ll go now. Come on Curly.”

With that she fastened a leash to the sheria and the other end to her. Curly shot off into Pennsylvania, Kara sliding along the ground behind him. Arkin called Whiskers, who was splashing around in the stream, and they were off as well.

The prince and his dog rode for almost a week without more trouble, but about 6 days after they had met Kara they were strolling through the woods when Arkin heard a voice.

‘Hey’ said a girl’s voice inside his head.

Arkin, convinced he was going crazy, dismounted and looked at Whiskers. Had she talked to him? Was he so close to his dog that she could communicate with him through telepathy? But if Whiskers had spoken to him, she gave no sign. She wore the same dumb expression she always did.

‘I’m not the dog, you idiot.’ Said the girl’s voice again.

Arkin straightened up and looked around.

‘That’s it. Now come over here and kiss me.’

This was a remarkably straightforward voice in his head, Arkin thought.

‘I’ve been enchanted, it’s not like I just fancy a kiss.’

‘Where are you?’ Arkin thought back

‘To your right… no, that’s too much. OK, there. Now straight ahead.’

Arkin walked forward into a clearing. At the center of the clearing there was a stone table and on that stone table was…

‘Kara?!’ Arkin thought, baffled.

‘Yes, nice to see you again, too, Arkin.’

‘What happened to you?’

‘Well, we were traveling and we ran into a magician. Well sherias are very valuable creatures to magicians because they can help perform spells and such, so this magician enchants me and runs off with Curly.’

‘Heh, I bet you’re not so keen on your pet now.’

‘Yes, yes, very funny, Arkin. Now can we get rid of this enchantment? I’ve been here for 2 days already.’

‘Wait, you haven’t told me how you can communicate with me.’

‘It’s a gift I’ve had since I was born. That’s why I’m on a quest; a foreign king needs my help.’

‘OK, so how do I get you out of this enchantment?’

‘It’s a kiss.’

‘How do you know?’

‘It’s always a kiss when the person is frozen on a table.’

‘Why can’t it be something cool, like candy?’

‘I don’t know, Arkin, just kiss me.’

‘I don’t think I can. I’m on a quest to find my betrothed.’

‘It’s just a kiss!’

‘No tongue?’

‘No tongue!’

His betrothal notwithstanding, Arkin leaned down and kissed Kara. She sat up and smacked Arkin.

“What was that for?! I just saved you!” Arkin asked, irritated.

“You can’t just go around kissing people. And to think, you’re betrothed, too.” Kara responded.

Arkin just gaped at her. Kara stood up and hurried off into the woods.

“Expect to hear from my lawyer!” She called back.

“Women…”The prince mumbled.

He leaned against the statue and smiled in spite of himself. Kara’s advocate would have a time making a case against a prince. Whiskers wandered over to him and licked the side of his head. He patted her on the head and she began to prance around. All of the sudden Whiskers yelped and disappeared. Arkin went over to investigate and saw that Whiskers had found a pit. She clawed at the sides trying to get out, but it was much too deep. Arkin couldn’t think of any way to help the dog out, so he threw some food down and began hunting for some for himself. After he had strung up a rashina to exsanguinate he checked on Whiskers, who was sleeping. He decided to get some rest himself and laid down on the hard earth, wishing the warm and soft Whiskers was with him.

Arkin awoke to Whiskers licking his face. After checking the pit, he deduced that the dog had dug herself out. He cleaned off the dog and they set out again. After a few days riding they came upon a river. Arkin was no great hat at swimming and Whiskers couldn’t concentrate in the water long enough for Arkin to tell her to take him across so he would have to find another way to get across.

The prince noticed a village nearby. He imagined that they would know where a bridge was, or at least how to get around the river. He rode to the village, which was a nice place, but a little run down. He approached the first villager he saw.

“Hello, I am Arkin and I am on a quest to the kingdom of California. Do you know a way to get across that river?” Arkin asked?

“Another one going to California, eh?” The villager responded, “You’re the second today.”

The villager pointed to the first, who was sitting at a nearby shop. It was Kara.

“YOU-” Arkin began, but he was interrupted by the sound of a bandit horn.

“Oh no, not again.” Said the villager Arkin had been talking too.

“Bandits? Not a problem.” Arkin assured him.

He dismounted and pulled his sword and shield from his back. Kara already had an arrow on her bow. The prince saw the bandits emerge on the hill north of the village. There were about 30 of them. They charged the town but by the time they reached it, there were about 7 less of them. Kara, who had climbed up on a roof, had let a good number of arrows fly. When the bandits were close enough, Arkin ran forward and cried:

“Get um’ Whiskers!”

And he and Whiskers charged at them. Like most bandits, these were not too great at swordplay. Arkin, who had been training to fight all of his life, barely wasted 2 or 3 strokes on each of them and rarely had to lift his shield. A mere 3 minutes after the prince and his dog had torn into the bandits, there remained only the leader alive. He dangled lightly from Whiskers mouth as she danced around.

“Whiskers, drop him.” Arkin commanded.

The giant dog dropped the bandit leader and Arkin took his weapon.

“You’ll not die here today, scum.” The prince said to the bandit. “You’ll rot in jail as an example to your brethren.”

And with that Arkin clubbed the bandit in the head with the hilt of his own sword. A great cheer went up behind him, and Arkin turned to see the entire village standing there.

That night the villagers held a feast to honor Arkin, Kara and Whiskers. The villagers also told them that that there was a magic portal a few miles south and it would make the journey much shorter. Arkin grabbed some food for himself and Whiskers and sat down next to Whiskers in the big circle the villagers had made. Kara came over and sat next to him.

“Look,” Kara began, “I’m sorry I slapped you, but if you’ve been frozen for 2 days you really have to pee when you wake up and I couldn’t have you following.”

Arkin sat in silence for a moment and then started laughing. Whiskers joined him and even Kara let out a reluctant laugh.

“So you’re going to California castle, too? What are the chances?” Arkin asked.

“Your betrothed works in the castle?” Kara asked

“Err….”

Arkin just realized how strange it would sound for a commoner to be betrothed to a princess so he lied.

“Yes.”

“That is an odd coincidence.”

“We should travel together.”

“What? Oh, yes that would be nice, I’ve had to hitch rides since Curly left.”

“Ah yes, faithful Curly. The one who abandoned you in favor of a magician. Thankfully I came along to set you free. It’s a shame it was a kiss though. I mean, if I’m going to disregard my betrothal, it should be for something good, like a quickie.”

“On second thought maybe I’ll be better off on my own after all.” Kara said and she stormed off in the direction of the portal the villagers had told them about.

“Oh come back, I was being facetious.” Arkin called after her. “Ah, well.”

Arkin spent the night at the village but rose early the next morning to set out. After thanking the villagers for their kindness he and Whiskers set off towards the portal. After a few hours he found the petrograph the villagers described to him. He said the incantation and a cave opened out of the rock face. Arkin hesitated. He had a phobia of dark enclosed places. An old man appeared beside the prince, making him jump.

“I can exorcise your fear, boy.” The old man said.

“How did you know I was scared?” Arkin asked.

“Well you were staring at the entrance to a cave looking like you’d rather die then enter. It didn’t take much to extrapolate.”

“Well how can you take my fear away?”

“It’s an old trick I learned, you just need to sit still and I’ll do the rest.” The man smiled, or that’s what Arkin guessed he did, it was hard to tell because the man had no teeth.

Arkin was wary. He didn’t trust the toothless rube, but he was confident that Whiskers would take care of him if anything went wrong. So the prince sat down and waited for the old man to entrance him. The old man took out a locket and the next thing Arkin knew he was laying on the ground, his fear becoming evanescent. The prince sat up and looked at the old man, who was hurrying away. Arkin noticed he had Leroy’s letter to the king of California in his hand.

“Hey!” Arkin called “I need that!”

But it was too late, the man had already disappeared. Arkin figured he could just tell the people at the castle what happened, but he didn’t look forward to it. He got up and marched bravely into the cave. He walked down a damp corridor into a large cavern. There was a row of carts there and Arkin assumed this was the way to use the portal. He helped Whiskers into a cart and then got into one himself.

“California Castle!” Arkin said to the cart.

A metal bar clanged shut on him and he heard a female voice ring out all around him.

“Thank you for traveling with Magic Portal. Please keep your arms and legs inside the cart at all times.” The voice said.

The carts roared to life and pretty soon they were going so fast Arkin was afraid his skin was going to fly off. He closed his eyes for a while and when he opened them they were coming to a stop. The female voice had another announcement.

“Please exit to the right. Thank you again for choosing Magic Portal.” The voice said.

The metal bar lifted and Arkin got out. Whiskers didn’t look like she enjoyed the trip. Arkin helped her out of the cart and they walked up a damp corridor. The prince pushed open a door and walked into dazzling sunlight. When he could see he looked up at the structure in front of him.

“It’s California castle! I don’t believe it! We’re here, Whiskers!”

Catching onto his excitement, Whiskers ran in circles around Arkin who was striding up to the gates of the castle. He walked up to the guard and told him his story. The guard looked at him suspiciously.

“You’re the prince of New Jersey?” the guard asked.

“Yes, that’s me.” Arkin replied.

“Who’s your father?”

“King Leroy. You’re being awful interrogatory.”

“That’s my job.”

“I’ve come an awful long way, please let me in.”

“I’m afraid I can do that. We were told that the prince would come in ceremonial vestments and have a letter from King Leroy.”

“But I’ve told you why I don’t have those things!”

“Beat it, kid.”

Arkin was furious. If he couldn’t get into the castle by normal means he would get in by surreptitious means. The prince waited for nightfall and then snuck around to the back of the castle and snuck inside. He stood in a hallway, unsure whom to go to explain himself when the choice was taken out of his hands. A guard grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

“Gottcha!” The guard snarled.

He was taken to the throne room where the king was talking to Kara.

“Arkin?” Kara asked.

“No, my dear, that is not prince Arkin. The guards tell me he has been pretending to be to try to get into the castle, though.” The king said.

“Arkin is a prince?"

“The real Arkin is, yes. As for this one…”

The king clapped his hands and a guard came in carrying a whip and a prisoner.

“Simon here is going to give a little demonstrative presentation of what will happen to you if you don’t speak up about why you were in my castle.” The king continued.

The guard called Simon began to flagellate the prisoner. It looked very painful and Arkin was not in the mood to try it. He tried to explain himself but the king waved him off.

“Come now boy, you can expect me to believe that.” The king scoffed.

“But, Kara, I told her my name, why would I lie to her?” Arkin said desperately.

“I don’t know, boy, maybe you’re a nut. Simon.”

Simon whipped his prisoner again. Arkin couldn’t stand the crack of the whip. He would have though of a better onomatopoeia to describe the sound, but this was a desperate time. The prince caught Kara’s eye and asked her for help telepathically. If she heard him, she gave no sign.

“Come now, you’ll only exacerbate your punishment.” The king said. “Alright Simon, give it to him.”

Simon strode toward Arkin, but at that moment Kara took the king’s sword from his belt and tossed it at the guard holding Arkin. It hit his head with a crack and Arkin leaped free. He pulled out his own sword and shield and fought off the guards. When most of them lay on the ground he grabbed Kara and ran to the back of the castle. They jumped on Whiskers, who dashed off into the distance. When they were a safe distance from the castle, they dismounted and turned to face each other.

“How did you know that I really was a prince?” Arkin asked

“I think I had an idea ever since I saw you fight off those bandits.” Kara responded.

“Well thank you.”

“Don’t thank me too soon, you’re bound to get your betrothed, right? So you have to try again.”

“No, I’m bound to find a wife.” Arkin replied with a wink.

Kara smiled.

***

The old man came to the castle in a few days with Arkin’s letter, trying to marry the princess. The California castle went into an uproar and started sending apologies to the New Jersey castle, since they now had to believe Arkin’s story. The kingdom of New Jersey benefited for many years from California’s guilt.

The princess of California was disappointed she never got to meet the heroic prince. She was never married because she was indeed an ugo.

Arkin and Kara rode back to New Jersey on Whiskers, where they were married. King Leroy was surprised but pleased with the outcome of events and gave his blessing to the wedding. And everyone in the kingdom of New Jersey lived happily ever after.

A short story to archive-

A Lesson in Affectation

Our setting is somewhat cliché, two men in New York, talking across a table to each other in a coffee shop while a man outside spontaneously combusts and runs down the street screaming bloody murder.

“Did you see that man’s hat?” said one man.

“Who’s?” said the other.

“That man on fire.” said the first man.

“Oh, yes. A brown fedora with a black suit? What a fashion crime.” said the second.

As you can see, our men are useless yuppies. The first man was called Donald and the second was called Derrick. They met here in this coffee shop in New York everyday to discuss nothing of great importance.

“So Derrick, how are things going with the wife?” Donald asked, closing the lid of his iBook.

“Not so great. She says that I need to stop killing hookers or she’ll leave me.” replied Derrick.

“That must be tough on the kids.”

“It is. They love playing with those hooker corpses.”

This is a fair example of a typical day’s conversation between the two men. Were one to listen to one of their discussions they would find the faults beyond measure that attach themselves to the two men prevalent and figuratively dancing for the crowd.

“So how are you and Christine doing? Still planning on popping the question?” Derrick inquired.

“Oh, yeah, she’s great. She’s the only woman I’ve dated who listens when I ask for pancakes after sex.” Donald replied.

“From everything you’ve told me about her, she sounds like one classy lady.”

“Yeah, she put out really early.”

While one was listening to them they may find the overwhelming urge to kill take them. This must be fought. For even when dealing with the waste of space we speak of today, killing can be construed as immoral and illegal. Unfortunately.

“So how are you going to do it?” Derrick asked, sipping his overpriced, pretentious coffee.

“Do what?” Donald responded.

“Ask Christine to marry you.”

“What? I’m not going to ask her to marry me!”

“You just said you were going to pop the question, though.” Derrick said, his face contorted in confusion. This expression could also be seen when faced with simple math or using electronics.

“I wasn’t talking about asking her to marry me, I was talking about propositioning her for anal.” responded Derrick’s illustrious companion.

If you feel your blood pressure rising, it’s only natural. Great men have fallen when faced with such stupidity and one can not be expected to keep up with great men. Try to handle it a little longer so we may reach our moral.

“Ah, yes. Anal. Good luck with that. How are you going ask her?” Derrick asked, tucking his iPod further into his pocket.

“I’ve got some ideas. We’re going to a knicks game on Saturday, I may have them put it up on the scoreboard.” responded Donald, shaking his 70 dollar hair cut out of his face.

“I’m sure she’d like that. Every girl likes to see her name on the scoreboard.” Derrick said, taking off his yellow sunglasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose before replacing them.

“Oh, yeah. I was also thinking of being a little more creative, too. Her family has a farm, so I was thinking of writing it in the grass with cow manure.” said Donald while straightening the cuff of his Armani suit.

I think we can say that you’ve suffered enough. It was necessary, though for the moral which I am now able to deliver:

You will meet people like this in your life, and they will make more money then you. Prepare yourself.

A big step forward

I have some OCD tendencies that I unequivocally get from my mother. I'm not obsessed with cleanliness or afraid of germs, as is so often associated with OCD. Public bathrooms skeeve me out, but I think there is something wrong with you if you don't have a problem with public bathrooms.

Anyway, I have pretty tame habits. When there are cracks in the floor I have to step so the crack lands in the center of my instep. When a passenger in a car and looking out the window, I have to nod to every telephone pole. I crave whole numbers and even numbers (even as a plateau concept, not the mathematical construct [ex. 12:00, $1.25, 75]). If I start reading a book, I have to finish it, regardless of how bad it is. And I crave completion and deletion in general.


Nothing life changing, but a little bothersome. For years I just left any change, even if it was 95 cents, lying where ever I got it. The completion craving is probably the worst, though. When I was 19, it caused me to buy 75 video games over the course of 3 months because I wanted to have a complete collection of swordfighting games for the PS2. More recently it caused me to try to play every Wii game that was out.

I did this with Gamefly. I have a 4 out service, so I would play 4 games, send them back and get four more. The turn around time with Gamefly sucks(full review to come later), so if I finished all 4 games in a night every time, I could play about 8 a week. This process was not fun, though. The speed in which new games came out made me return games I wasn't really finished playing yet, and the sheer amount of terrible games coming out made playing through them a chore.

So I was pretty far behind the releases, I consistently had about 40 wii games in my queue and about 10 unplayed that I couldn't fit in my queue. Then over the holidays I got preoccupied with my new DVD sets and tied up with work and the feature. I played and then returned games 2 days ago that I had had for nearly a month. My position made it seem like I would never get to those few ps2 and gamecube games on my queue that I still hadn't played.

But I've broken a hold of sorts. Today I deleted 32 games from my queue and added new games that I actually had an interest in playing. It's a step in the right direction, but I'm not holding my breath, or rather I am, so I can simultaneously exhale and enter a building leading off with my right foot.

Somehow Extinction seems appropriate

I've defended the last 2 Resident Evil movies. They were never cinematic greats, but they had a certain something to them that made them worthwhile.

That's why, after my loyalty, I was even more disappointed in how badly they failed on this one. It seems remarkably like they grabbed a 10 year old and asked him what should happen in the next movie. He, of course, said "First this should happen and than this, and this and this." Working on a set of universal rules and causality that is appropriate in the untamed imagination of a child, but certainly not in professional filmmaking.

I have to say though, I'm not that big of a fan of the games. I have still never played the first one and the only one I liked was RE4. The only reason I even got into the movies was because I got on a zombie kick around the time the remake of Dawn of the Dead was made. Maybe that's why throughout this movie I kept hoping to see Leon. A Leon/Ashley movie would probably work out well, because this movie showed the Alice storyline is totally tapped. Resident Evil 4 made an apparent appearance, though, through a creature who acted like he had been infected with Las Plagas. He was this movie's Nemisis, without the witty charm.

Possibly the most disappointing thing in the movie was Wesker. As I said, I'm not a huge fan of the games, but even so, they show a very specific idea of Wesker, and the actor they got to play him fell so far short, it's almost laughable.

This isn't to say the movie had no positives, though. There was still lots of explotions, throat slitting and fire. And the fall back, Milla Jovovich is still hot, even though she dresses like an American woman in Saudi Arabia.

truth.

I recently had to do some work on the director of many of the truth spots. It reminded me how crappy that campaign is.

I don't know how the agency or client thinks that that sort of half hearted schmaltz is going to get to their target. In fact, I don't smoke, but the ads kinda make me want to start. There was a time when they were doing things right, but I don't know what happened. They apparently either stopped researching and threw the data in the shredder or they just decided to ignore it.

In addition to missing the point, truth's man on the street approach has descended to the level of fanatic. The type of thing that when we went into Manhattan when I was a kid, my mother would cross the street to get us away from.

If they are going to fight back against the giant tobacco machine (which seems to be slowing itself, thanks to the health kick) they are fighting against an icon. Smoking has been made iconic from movies, TV, and cigarette ads. The only way to combat that, it to make not smoking iconic, or to make smoking less iconic- In a way that appeals to the target.

Electronic Snowball Effect

With every new e-mail address comes what I like to call "The crescendo of spam".

At first, you get no spam. As long as your e-mail address goes unentered to websites, it's probably safe. But then you need to enter your e-mail for something. And you do. Or if you don't, yahoo or hotmail or whoever you have service with will probably sell it.


Once you're on a list, that's the beginning of the end. You can't get off of the lists, and they'll only be sold to more and more people. Your only hope is to have gmail or yahoo, or something else with a solid filter on it.

So the spam starts out harmless enough, or as harmless as spam can be. It's marketing surveys and website ads, that usually have a way to unsubscribe.

The next batch isn't so bad either. Cheap prescriptions, dating websites, home loans and free credit checks. None with a way to unsubscribe.

Then comes the enhancement crowd. A bigger penis, breasts and ass all rolled into one convenient pill.

After that starts the malicious stuff. Phishing, royalty from Nigeria,
free PS3s, and foreign lottery winnings. Fake jobs and relitives and charities. It's sick. The audacity of these people is unbelievable.


The malicious stuff never stops comming. The other spam may die out after you mark it all for deletion, but the really bad stuff keeps comming.


Then, after a while, there is a chance you can slip onto the 'dirty list'. The weirdest and most god awful porn you could imagine. It makes two girls one cup look like a romantic comedy. You're stuck with this forever, too. It's so gross, I don't even like to see the titles in my spam box as I hit delete all. In fact, what spurred this educational romp was an e-mail in my gmail account spam box titled "barely legal girl fucked raw by farm animals". In less subtle terms, of course.

Spam is something we've lived with since the internet started to get popular, but hopefully someone who is smarter and much more knowlageable about e-mail than I will come up with a better solution than spam filters.

There is no spoon.

Since the movie came out I've been a fan of the Matrix. Leaving out the unnecessary sequels, I could easily write a book on the fodder it gives me.

To keep this blog-length, I'll cover only one concept. My favorite stuff in the movie comes from Agent Smith when he is waiting for the drug to take effect with Morpheus. He makes 2 main points (3 if you count his rant about how things smell), one where he attempts to classify humans as viruses, and another where he hypothesizes that humans relate reality with misery. I'd like to talk about the latter.


In short, I agree with Agent Smith. I think that humans crave misery like dogs crave their own poop. It's vile, unhealthy, and kinda smelly, but for some reason we can't stay away. No one particularly wants to feel miserable, but some part of all of us feels that we have to.

Take, for instance, the feeling of happiness and the feeling of misery. When you are ecstatic, when good things happen, you can't believe it. You're walking on air, head in a dense fog of happiness. Like walking on a cloud. Or- more relevantly- like being in a dream. Good things can't happen to you, because good things never happen to you. You're still trying to wake up. Misery is like getting hit with a truck full of reality. That's when you feel every wrinkle in your clothes and feel every subtle change in temperature. Unless it's catastrophically bad, you have no hard time believing that it's happening to you.


Now, I could take a rather dark turn here and say that there is no reason to fear hell because we're already there, but I'm not going to do that. There are certainly ways to battle this- stoism, or a somewhat related theory I'll be posting eventually, called the statical theory. But the majority of people will always relate misery with reality. Budism is even based on that principle. Suffering is caused by desire. Desire is simply a human reality. Suffering is caused by reality. Suffering is reality.

I may have taken some artistic licence with that.

Archiving continued

This is possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever made for me:

More Old Archiving

There was a comic series about a friend of mine's life, and every so often she'd draw one about me, just for kicks.

Angel- One small step for TV, one large step backward for Joss Whedon

I had seen a few episodes of Angel when it was aired and never really liked it. But strong urging from other Buffy fans caused me to rent season one. I liked it, and friends who had just gotten seasons 2-5 mentioned that they were good. So I got the entire series for Christmas.

Season 1- Doyle Go Brahe
The reason I had avoided watching Angel for so long was the characters. I knew that Angel, Cordelia and Wesley were in it, and they were three of my least favorite characters from Buffy. However, what I didn't count on was how quickly the characters changed and how much different they were when in a different setting. Angel is much more clever, funny and personable without being pussy-whipped by Buffy all the time. Cordelia quickly matures, though that doesn't make Charisma Carpenter a good actor. And Wesley also quickly changes, trading in his pomp for a more Giles-like book guy and eventually becoming a substantial fighter.

The main event of the season comes in the middle rather than at the end. And that is the death of Doyle. Wesley takes his place in the very next episode, but it took me a while to warm up to Wesley. The attachment I, and other people I talked to had to Doyle after only 10 episodes or so, was unreal. As I've said before- It's a testament to the show that I was sad when Doyle died, I should be attached to the characters. I certainly should not miss Doyle in every subsequent episode like I do. The little Irish monkey was a huge part of why I liked the first season.

Easily the best season.

The Superhero Decree- The very first thing I noticed about the show was that Angel was completely different than Buffy. Buffy is a show heavily based in theme and metaphor. Angel is a superhero show, plain and simple. It has gadgets, rooftop jumping, sweeping cinematography, and a hero who is remarkably like batman.
The Taunting Problem- Angel, like Buffy, likes to make verbal jabs at his enemies while fighting them. I think that's fine, if not realistic, it adds some comedy to the action. But Angel has the lamest puns known to man.



Season 2- Angel gets Lucky
The second season starts off of a bad premise. The Resurrection of Darla. I hate Resurrection. It takes meaning away from death.

Overall the season was pretty stupid. The first few episodes are OK, but once Angel finds Darla it gets outrageous. Yes, it's pretty cool to see Angel get dark, slaughter lawyers, and set vampires on fire, but the tame darkness doesn't breed comedy. At least not good comedy.

This season also includes the arrival of Lorne and the integration of Gunn. My only problem with Gunn is his weird shaped head. In the coming years he loses the baby fat and it makes me breathe easier. And I like Lorne, but I can't imagine the producers looking at the series and saying 'You know what this show needs? An effeminate karaoke demon.'

Possibly the worst part of the season is the last few episodes in Pylea The primitive world begets a storyline that resembles a bad 80s medieval made-for-TV movie.

The only good news is that Angel finally gets some nookie and doesn't lose his soul.

The History Lesson- a good portion of Angel's past is objectionable. It doesn't fit with what we've learned from Buffy.
The Exception Exception- The way Buffy deals with the supernatural is by setting down ground rules about it and then dealing with the human part of the struggle. The way Angel deals with the supernatural is to set up the ground rules and then show every single exception to them, bending them until they nearly break.
The EuroHero Rule- The standard kind of heroes are: The American hero- an underdog rising against impossible odds. The Asian Hero- An elite, powerful force fighting against even more powerful foes. The Euro Hero- A powerful person who keeps fucking up or getting corrupted. Angel would have done nicely as an Asian Hero, like Buffy. But, no, he is definitely in the realm of EuroHero





Season 3- Why am I Still Watching This?
This is easily the worst season. My thought, after watching this season, is that they were simply running out of ideas. The challenges get more and more wild as time progresses, and most of them don't even have a proper end.

Enter Fred, Enter Holtz, Enter Connor, Enter Skip. Fred came in at the end of the second season, rescued from Pylea. She's very irritating at first, crazy and with a bad Texan accent, but eventually she drops the accent and gets less crazy. Holtz is an old enemy of Angel's, a rather stupid premise. His storyline doesn't help matters, either. Then there is Connor, Angel's son. I don't like the character, I don't like the actor and I don't like the situation. All drawn up to get the high school crowd, I'd bet. And finally Skip. He isn't a main character, but he's hilarious and in a few episodes so I thought I'd throw him in.

The Comic Book Clause- Building off of The Exception Exception, Angel starts to seem less like a super hero movie and more like a comic book. The things that happen are so unlikely that they belong in a comic book rather than any respectable medium.
The Soap Opera Principle- Connor, though the means of a hell dimension, ages 17 years in about 4 episodes. The writers must have realized the stupidity of it, because they apologize for it by having Cordelia shine a lantern on it (shining a lantern on something is when a writer jokes about their own writing through a character).
The Cliffhanger Phenomenon- This started in season 2, but it became a real problem in season 3. Every single episode started to end in a cliffhanger, including the season finale of season 3. No episodes could just end. It's a good way to play the ratings, it made me ache to see where the story went, but it isn't good writing. A few cliff hangers a season, sure, it's expected. Appreciated, even. In fact, in a show like this, the episode before the season finale should be a cliffhanger. But using it to much is a crutch, and eventually even nullifies the effect. Nobody cares what happens next because everyone is tired of that question.




Season 4- Redemption
The show finally starts to get better again. I'm not sure if this is why, but there is a mysterious lack of David Greenwalt's name under executive producers.

There are a few reasons the show gets better. First, there are finally some decent villains again. The Beast and Jasmine are actual enemies and not concepts or inner turmoil. Secondly, Angelus makes a brief but fun visit. Thirdly, and I never thought I'd say this, Wesley gets back in the game. And finally, a few episodes into the season 'Spin the Bottle' appears and is probably one of the best episodes of the series. It's a fun episode where they all revert back to an earlier mental state, but it's leaps and bounds better than anything in season 2 or 3. A lot of the humor is predictable and lacks insight, but I can't resist a good 'inappropriately timed erection' metaphor, Fred is completely different than what I expected and Angel's real name is Liam.

The Ending Edict- In part because of The Cliffhanger Phenomenon, no episodes seem to really have an end. You could make Season 2, 3, and 4 all one really, really long episode. When watching Buffy I can tell you the name of the episode, what season it's in and what events fall before and after it. In Angel they all run together. Not a good thing.
The Champion Maxim- I have never heard the word champion so much in my entire life.


Season 5- Spike, Forever a Dick
The reason that I made it through seasons 2 and 3 was because I knew that shining off in the distance was season 5, with Spike in it. I love Spike, and he was back as funny as ever, though a little more evil than I remember.

A lot of this season seems rather pointless, though it is nice to have Spike back. Harmony is back as well, but I never much cared for her. She is, at least funnier than before. Illyria is also new character that has some merit.

The fifth season isn't all I hoped it would be, but it wasn't half bad, either. Something that royally pissed me off was the cliff hanger series finale. These writers are obsessed with that cliffhanger. After I watched it, I went back to listen to the director commentary, and try to find an apology for the ending. What the director said was that it wasn't a cliffhanger. That it didn't matter if they won or lost the fight but that they were going to keep fighting. And if they won the fight that day, there would be another the next day. Well, Jeffery Bell, if you leave important things open, like say- if the remaining main characters live or die, or if Spike or Angel get to become human or not... that is a cliffhanger ending.

The Window Law- Never failing, a window will break in every freakin episode. Apparently Joss Whedon got a bulk deal on stunt glass.
The Buffy Bust- There are 2 episodes that use Buffy in season 5. Neither one had Sarah Michelle Gellar in them. In one of them, Spike and Angel are chasing her around a very stereotyped version of Rome and only glance at her once from a distance. If I didn't know Sarah Michelle Gellar wasn't in it because she was off doing other work, I might not have noticed. But in the other one, it's a hallucination of Angel's. Spike is humping a blond girl in bed next to Angel. When they cut away, they use audio clips from the Buffy series to make it seem like Buffy is there. It's a feeble facade, and I very much doubt anyone was fooled. Just bad TV, there is no excuse for it. It wasn't a dire scene, they could have replaced it with another hallucination.
The Killing Benchmark- For some reason in season 5, I called the deaths of characters as the episodes started. I know how writers think, so I can predict these things rather well, but this was above and beyond what I normally can do. It might be a sign of predictability.




Overall, I'm not sorry I watched through the entire series. I may be sorry I own any seasons other than the first, but I'm a collection person, and I can't own just one season of anything.

Renewed Reason

For a few weeks of copying DVDs and putting together spot reels, I've been doubting my interest in editing. I continually thought my job could be done by anyone with half a brain and a little training. I was reminded how wrong I was.

It really varies from project to project, but most editing requires this mix of skills:
50%- Putting up with the clueless director
25%- Talent in film theory and training on the software.
25%- Problem Solving


There are three kinds of projects I hope to get:
nationally broadcast- good for my reel and resume
eye candy/just for fun video- good for my reel and fun to do
important to the agency- it gets my work noticed by the high ups and usually requires some skill.

Even as I scored a video that was important to the agency right before Christmas, I was still not out of my slump about the ease and lack of creative control I had over the work that I was doing. But today I came across a problem. I was finishing up this video and I was getting notes about what needed to be changed. I was getting notes from my least favorite department head, and a good candidate for my least favorite person in the entire agency. This is how the conversation went.

Me: I'll work on the audio so there isn't so much background noise.

DH: I also need you to take out the wide shots at the beginning. Fitz is out of the room and doing other things while the people on the other side of the room are talking.

Me: I can't take those shots out. They cover my cuts.

DH: *Blank Stare*

Me: We cut some of what they said out and I have to hide that with the wide out.

DH: *Blank Stare*

Me: I jump from one point in time to another. I can't do that without cutting.

DH: *Blank Stare*

Me: Are you familiar with the concept of continuity?

DH: *Blank Stare*

Me: Here, look at this. If I take out the wide shot, she jumps from one place to another.

DH: *Blank Stare*

Me: She can't do that.

DH: *Blank Stare*

Me: Really?

DH: Why can't you just stay on the close up?

Me: Wizards.

DH: Oh. OK.

Me: Big ones.

DH: Can you pan over or something?

Me: This has already been shot. Panning is something you do with a camera.

DH: *Blank Stare*

Me: I can expand the image and focus it on the other side of the room, but it will significantly decrease the resolution.

DH: *Blank Stare*



No, that wasn't what made me think I could make it as an editor, though the fact that I have no heads on pikes in my office is a testiment to my patience. But I did try to blow up the video so only one side of the room showed on screen. It looked terrible. I was going to ask the other editor for advice. Regardless, he probably would have told me to do what I strongly felt I should. Go tell the department head to fuck off and leave the beginning the way it was.

But I thought for an alternate solution. It came to me rather quickly. I pulled up another wide shot, one from when Fitz was in the room and put it in the layer above the current shot where he was gone. Then I cropped half of the room out, leaving the people who were talking, talking, and the other side of the room sitting still and listening, pulled from another point in time. The simplicity, cleverness and fantastic result of the split screen effect had me laughing for about 10 minutes. After that, I knew exactly why I made a good editor:

My problem solving skills are unstoppable.
My creative use of softwares' capabilities takes me further in depth every time I do a new project.
My film theory insticts are honed so I can feel things out with better results than using math as a crutch.
My ability to be quietly condesending allows me to keep the clueless people who need the video alive.

It still may not be what I want to do forever, but at least I know that I'm good at it while I do it.

Deep Thoughts

I was digging through old work and I found my old english journals we had to do when I was a freshman in college. I obviously wouldn't take them seriously and what I ended up
writing was something like Jack Handy's 'Deep Thoughts'. Here are a few of them:

What was your favorite activity as a child?
When I was a kid I liked playing with Daddy’s hacksaw. It could cut through lots of things, statues, trees, necks. One day Daddy took it away from me. I was sad. But I found it in Daddy’s room after he fell asleep. And I think it is safe to say he won’t take it back again.

Who is your favorite family member?
My favorite family member is my dog. She never bothers me about anything or tells me I have to do something her way. Whenever I ask her a question she just says “Roo?” and is on her way. She is gross and disgusting, sleeps all day and doesn’t work at all. But that is ok, that describes me too. My favorite quality about her is that she is quiet. And fluffy.

Think of the time when you were the maddest.
There was this one time when I was like 4 this doctor stuck a long pointy metal thing in my arm. It hurt like a bitch. It really pissed me off. So I punched the doctor. When he regained consciousness I hit him again. That bastard deserved it though, that’s what he gets for sticking things in my arm. Who’s laughing now, doc?

If you were a Spanish bullfighter what would your costume look like and why?
As I have thought many times, my design for a bullfighting costume would be a cape. Only a cape, nothing else. I think that being naked would give me more reason to get out of the way. It would also be more entertaining to crowd and open me up for cool nicknames like “Naked Bullfighter”, “El torero desnudo”, and “Retardo”. And my cape would be a bat cape. I would have all sorts of cool stuff pop out: grappling hook, throwing stars, candy, chain saw, ect.


What is your most embarrassing moment?
One time in high school, there was this girl, Mandy, who had this thing for me. She would follow me around and do my bidding, but I wasn’t interested. A few weeks before prom she finally got up the courage to ask me out. Oh, how I laughed. I laughed and laughed until she cried. Then I laughed some more. I’m pretty sure that was her most embarrassing moment.





There is a sort of primitive, unrefined comedy in them... though a total lack of grammar.