Not moving on- regaining

Tomorrow I will do something I have not done in 11 years.

I will work on September 11th.

For the last 11 years, I have found a way to have the day off.  From sick days to vacation to manipulating my work schedule to ensure I will not be working.  It was to remind me of what we had taken from us and to stay angry about it.

Every day at 5:40 AM on that day I would get up regardless of what I had worked the night before.  I would put the video I had recorded that day at first and moved to the film United 93 when the tape became warped in and watch it.  I would sit there reliving it, fuming, crying, wishing the outcome would be different. When it was done I would try to have as good of day as possible, to show that I am not defeated.  It was a noble thought.

But I can do better.

It is time to reclaim the day, that I am better than those that seek to destroy our nation out of fear and hatred.  It may seem bizarre to some that to do this I will be working.  But I see that the way to truly win is to show them they failed.  That even working is a joy to do in this country.  That they may have my contempt and pity, but they won't win by making me alter myself for them.  It is a small thing, I will admit.  But to me it is a small thing that speaks loudly.  I will do this.

I will regain what was lost.

Clo(w)ning around...

Hello.

As the few of you who might read this blog might know, one of the most beloved childhood icons of mine recently passed away.  Chris Wedes was better known a J.P. Patches- a local children’s show star.  I was originally going to write about the significance he and his show had upon my childhood, that is was one of the two shows I made sure to never miss.  (The other? Starblazers.)  But it just didn’t feel right.  So I am going to show my tribute to J.P. a different way.

When I have some spare time and no immediate projects to do, I have been taking to improve my storytelling skills.  Throughout the days I would witness events that stuck in my head.  I would then make a title based on said event.  Then I would take one of the titles and write out a story based on it and only gave myself 10-20 minutes.  The basic stories were children’s tales based on the style of Sid Fleischman, whose tall tales- inspired stories of Josh McBroom and his amazing farm were a great read to me when I was younger.  (Why children’s tales?  I wouldn’t mind really writing a couple…)  They were surreal tales told in a world that might or might not be in the imagination of the main character- a man known only as ‘The Red Cap’ who worked at a train station in the port town of Seatown.  They for the most part were just exercises, kept simple so I could focus on telling the tale.  

And yes, they are VERY loosely based on my job.

Quite honestly, they are not the best tales.  If I went back and ‘fixed them up’ they would be far better, but that was never the intent of them.  They were not really for anyone but myself (and maybe a lucky person or two if I felt in the mood).  I have done about a dozen, and may do more.  But this one time I think I will share one.  All I have done to it is made appropriate paragraph breaks, punctuation and grammar fixes.  Otherwise it is exactly as I wrote it.

It deals with a situation the titular character cannot solve on his own so he asks the help of a special friend of his.  I like to think that J.P. would have liked this.  So without further ado, I present to you:

Tales of The Red Cap- Invasion of the Clown Clones!!!

So did I ever tell you of the time I had to stop an infestation of clown clones?

It was a bright sunny Wednesday-which was strange since it was supposed to be Saturday.  I was returning from a lunch of delicious fish pancakes (with maple syrup, of course) and was ready to tackle the day's challenges and be my best to assist all who needed me.  Why did I leave the station?  Amazing but true, even I sometimes leave the workplace.

Especially for fish pancakes.

Anyways, as I stepped into the lobby, I began to feel something was a bit off- a bit...funny.  The station was busy as always. Passengers going to and coming from the trains.  My fellow employees keeping everything running smooth.  But something just was not right.

I looked around; trying to see what has set off my redcap sense.  I looked at everyone's outfits.  Neatly pressed suits, fashionable dresses, comfortable shorts and shirts, big squeaky shoes and colorful frilly collars everywhere.  So far nothing seemed out of place.  I looked at the people in the station.  They all looked pale- pretty much sheet white.  (But that's how everyone looks in Seatown.)  Healthy red lips that covered the entirety of there lower faces, bright carefully coiffed hair done in a rainbow of colors, and rosy noses that looked almost like red rubber balls...

...

Waittaminute...

It was then, in the midst of a slowly dawning realization (I blame the pancakes) that I noticed that people were not talking to each other, but honking horns at each other.  It then hit me-

A cream pie thrown from someone.

"It's clowns!" I exclaimed.  I looked at my fellow employees. They were all now clowns.  I know they like to have fun-

don't we all- but this was beyond anything they had done before.

As I had this revelation I also noticed the squeaking sounds diminishing.  And all the clowns stopped their activities and were looking at me.  I stopped wiping the cream pie off of my shirt, (One must always try to be professional), and gazed back at them.  From the back of the clown crowd-

(Clowd?)

A high pitched voice rang out “GET HIM!"  Dozens, if not hundreds of squeaky shoes sound as they stepped towards me.

Realizing that I must find help to solve this problem, I exited out to the platform, looking for my constant friend and kart, Li'l B.  We could get to a safe distance to think this out. I looked in his usual resting place and found him.

40 clowns were packed in him, filling every nook and cranny.  He could not help me.  He looked stuffed.  I quickly passed by this monument to clown physics and entered the train parked on the tracks next to me.

I closed the door and looked around.  No clowns- but something else odd.  Bundles wrapped tightly in bright colored streamers were strewn about.  They wiggled slowly on occasion.  Dedication to my duty overrode any uneasiness I may have had and I examined the bundles.  One was wrapped in the spot usually reserved for Conductor Bob when he was on the train.  I looked and lo and behold, Conductor Bob's cap was on the table in front of the bundle.  Since I know Conductor Bob would rather lose a limb rather than lose his cap, I instantly knew what the wrapped bundle was-

If you didn't also think Conductor Bob, then you aren't paying attention.

I touched the bundle, trying to get a reaction.

It fell of the seat onto the floor.

Oops.

It wiggled and I tried to tear off the wrappings.  No luck. It wasn't ordinary paper.  Meanwhile outside the train I could hear the squeaking shoes.  It wouldn't be long before they found me.

I had to act.

So after I did Marc Anthony's friends Romans countrymen speech, I decided I needed help.

And I knew just who to call.

Grabbing the phone Conductor Bob normally uses to let us know what the train needs, I dialed.  (I hope they don't get mad at this. Technically it IS work related.)  It rang and rang, and yes, I started to worry a bit.  He might be on vacation, I thought as he answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"You're there!" I said happily.

"I should hope so, otherwise someone else is eating my lunch" he said back to me.

I knew I picked the right- well, clown for the job.  You see, my friend is a literal clown- but not just ANY clown.  He is rather well known, and was even the mayor of our garbage dump for some time.  

The clown de la clown, so to speak.

But he retired, so out of respect I will keep his identity secret.

(That and the fact I couldn't afford paying the royalties.)  "I need your help on a clown-related issue!" I told him.

 "What's the problem?" He asked.  

 I showed him the story up to this point.

(It was easier that telling him.)

"Any ideas?" I asked.

“Yes. Next time I should add bacon to my tuna fish sandwich."

"That is a great idea." I replied.  He thought for about a minute.

"It sounds like you have an infection of clown clones. It's a rather rare condition these days, but it still breaks out from time to time."

"Any idea how to end it and save all these people they cloned?"

"Oh that's easy" said my clown friend, "You just have to ignore their antics and be completely serious around them"

"That's it?"

"Yes. Since they are not real clowns, like me, they won't be able to handle that. They should puff away in clouds of confetti- which will revive the people they cloned."

"That's great. Any other advice?"

"Yes. A little pepper in tuna fish makes it very tasty."

"That IS good to know."

"Good luck," said my friend, "I'll keep track on you on my ICU2TV."

"HEY! You did that on purpose!"

"Sorry about that," he said. "Force of habit. I'll take a meal out with you in lieu of any fees, OK?  But not the fish pancakes- they are a bit dry to my taste."

*sigh* "OK."

I hung up and started to think.  What could I do that would be serious enough to stop them?  My serious dedication to my duty wasn't enough- I had to think even more serious.  As I was thinking, I looked around the car. Then it caught my eye.

It was a calendar. I looked at it and had a revelation:

It actually WAS Wednesday.  

(I should keep better track of the days.)

 

I then looked at the month and an idea formed...

The clown clones wandered around the lobby.  Occasionally one would slip on a banana peel- others hit by a pie or seltzer water.  Steeling my resolve I entered, dragging in a table laden with books, papers, and a calculator.

I pulled my load-

And the table, of course-

To the center of the lobby.  I quickly unfolded the chair on the table and sat down.  (Do I ALWAYS have to spell everything out?)  I pulled out a sheet of papers, a pencil, and a paper booklet.  How to prepare taxes the cover read.

As the clowns started to squeak up on me, I began to read:

"When doing your taxes, make sure to include the following forms for triplicate filing..."

The clowns screamed.  They writhed in pain as I organized the forms by size in alphabetic order.  The first one burst into a cloud of confetti when I started punching figures on the calculator.

Encouraged, I started to work harder.

It was a good thing I hadn't done my taxes yet. While I have the utmost dedication to my duty, I admit my failings at keeping due diligence in all things.  Good thing it worked in my favor this time.  My pencil flew across the forms, adding, subtracting... square rooting.  Brightly colored puffs of confetti erupted everywhere. It was like a snowstorm of color.  "Why so serious?' A voice painfully muttered.

I stooped for a second and looked up. It was the clown clone of Conductor Bob, looking very worse for wear from my actions.  "Begone, you bad copy!" I triumphantly yelled as I started itemizing deductions.  (That retort worked on more levels than the bureaucracy I was filing paperwork for.)

He quickly burst in a colorful pop.

The bursts and pops grew less frequent as I neared the end of my labor.  Finally, as I signed my name declaring that under penalty of jail I told the truth, (Which I always do), I looked up and saw all the clown clones gone.

Employees and passengers dazedly wandered through the piles of bright squares of paper, shaking off the effects of the infestation. I had succeeded. The people were safe.

Investigators after the fact found that it all started due to a counterfeit whoopee cushion. It was quickly isolated and locked away.  I didn't see that, as I was attending to my duties-

Well, after all I DID have to clean up the mess left in the lobby...

The end.

Goodbye J.P., from one of the last of the Patches Pals…

Thoughts on Suicide

It’s a hell of a thing to have THIS as a topic for my return to writing…

So last Tuesday I was listening to the radio while getting material gathered for an experiment I was attempting involving paper mache.  It was playing as background noise when a story caught my ear.  It involved a suicide at the local university that happened a couple months ago.  The parents were releasing their son’s five page suicide letter explaining why he did it.  And that reason was that he was tired of living…

…with the horror of an overactive blushing reaction.

He evidently blushed nonstop, which ultimately became unbearable for him to live with.  He had put in his letter for his parents to spread the word about this, to shed light on this horrible affliction.

I was less than sympathetic.

I have two thoughts on suicide, one of which I will get to later.  But the one relevant to this part was that I am floored by the reasons some people decide to end their life.  This kid ended it over BLUSHING?!  He couldn’t handle life with this going on?  I know people with FAR worse afflictions who live productive lives.  For example, I live with a condition that makes my skin look like I lost an attack from several cheese graters.  Yet I carry on.  I know people without eyesight who have a love for life that is rather infectious.  There are people who have no use of their limbs that still live more fulfilling lives than most of us.  Hell, the world speed record for the 100 meters is held by a man with no lower legs.  And yet this person cannot handle constant blushing. 

In these circumstances I bring up Kurt Cobain as the perfect example of truly pathetic excuses for ending it.  He had parent issues and stomach issues.  Did he really think he was the only one?  He had more opportunities to try and fix what he thought was wrong with himself, but instead he chose the easy way out.  To this day I have no respect for the man and what he did.  I had originally planned to have this just a rant about this, but then once again synchronicity- a topic I have talked about before- came into effect.

Two days after the newscast, while these thoughts were coalescing in my head, I get a call at night while at work from my Aunt Sue.  My cousin Matt had recently broken up with his significant other.  More accurately, she left him for another man.  He had been inconsolable, despite the best efforts of Sue and the other aunts I have (whom I call The Sisters).  He seemed to go deeper and deeper into rage and despair over this, and The Sister’s efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The call I got from Aunt Sue was that he had been found dead.  He had hung himself.  

 

He left behind three children.

As you can guess everyone was in turmoil.  Sue sounded emotionally empty as she told me, and it sounded like it would be a long time before she would be back to normal. The Sisters have been emotional wrecks, particularly his mother, my Aunt Sheila.  And I offered any consolation I could offer if needed.  Now for the last several days I have been wondering; why did these two events happen in the order they did in my life?  Was the first event to prepare me for what was to come?  Was the second event to make me reevaluate my thoughts on suicide?  I don’t know.  Maybe I will figure it out.  All I know right now is how I feel about my cousin, the suicide, and my family.  I have sadness in my heart- but it is not for him.  No, I am feeling a completely different emotion towards him.

I am angry.  VERY angry.  Pretty much pissed off.  This brings me to my second view on suicide.

To me suicide has always been the ultimate selfish act.  While most people who feel pain and suffering want to try and stop it and live normal lives, there are those who decide that they don’t WANT to work through it and instead feel that it is their duty to make EVERYONE feel the sorrow and pain they do.  And this is the result.

My cousin, despite the fact he could have called, seen, written, done ANYTHING to get support from family or friends or coworkers decided instead to say ‘Fuck all you all- I don’t care about any of you- it’s ALL about ME!’  It’s bad enough he did this to his mother, his brother, his aunts, his grandparents, his cousins.  At least we are all (relatively) adult.  But the fact that he did this to his three children is what really gets me angry.  He has pretty much guaranteed their childhoods are destroyed.  This is unforgivable.  And while the family will mourn his death, I will mourn the living death he has put upon us all.  Him?  Nothing but my anger will suffice.  And right now this rage is so raw that even any scorn from my family over my views on this will not bother me.  Yet another reason I am the grey sheep of the family…

So I am sorry to all my family.  I am sorry I cannot pretend he cared about us, that he just lost his way.  All I can see right now is a mother completely inconsolable.  All I can see is the disarray and chaos of a family coping with this. 

All I can see is three young kids who wonder why their Daddy left them.

I wish I was a better man and forgive this, but I cannot- not right now…

A quick postscript:  When I am talking about suicide, I am not lumping self-sacrifice where one dies to save others or euthanasia in with this.  These are not the same, and are possibly topics for a later time…

When is Third Number One?

On Christmas day, I received the third best gift possible.

If you had seen it, it wouldn’t have seemed as such. It wasn’t some fancy sport scar, trip to your dream location, or even a winning lottery ticket.  Nope, it was just an old action figure.

Specifically, it was a Mister Freeze figure from the Batman animated series.  It’s around 10-15 years old and still in its package.  Not even really a collector’s item.  But when I saw this, I broke down a little and teared up with gratitude.

You see, while there is no big demand for the figure, there is also not many of them to find easily.  I have been looking for some time for him- since I have always liked the character and the action feature this one had-and have never really had much luck acquiring him.  It was as more a joke than anything that I had put him on my wish list for Christmas.  Usually I just ask for gift cards, but I occasionally throw a ‘left field’ request in; a pony, a full sized drivable Back to the Future Delorean… or a Mister Freeze action figure.  I am always content with whatever I get, since I appreciate the thought.  Also, as I mentioned before, it’s more about what I can do for others than what is done for me.

But once in a great while it works in reverse.

It wasn’t the figure itself that caused the happy breakdown- it was what it represented.  It showed me that someone took a good amount of time and effort tracking this down for me.  It was someone really looking for something that was special.  It was someone looking beyond the easy and convenient to try for a bit more for this sad excuse for a human being. It was showing me that despite everything, people can and do pay attention to others, making the world- to me- a better place.

It was a renewal of the hope I sometimes find so lacking in myself.

So I thank you, Lois.  I don’t know if you knew how I felt receiving this.  Sometimes I have a hard time articulating thoughts when I am not being writing them down.  While I say this is the third best gift I could receive, this is not meant as an insult in any way.  Rather, since the two things I want more than anything this time of year (and most of my life in general) are impossible/improbable, it’s actually the main thing I want.  It was far better than I wished for, and possibly better than I deserved.

Not bad for an action figure, eh?

One

This is not going to be a happy post. I apologize in advance.

 Some of you may know that this is not my favorite time of the year. Some may even know why. The simple fact is that long ago I have given up trying to find real joy for myself this season. There are only two things I want that could change everything for me during this time, but I will never get them; one because it is truly impossible, the other so highly improbable that it might as well also be impossible.

 So until the day comes around that time travel becomes possible, I do the next best thing: I try to spread a little joy and happiness to others. You see, to me this time of year should be when hope for humanity is renewed. So I work to do that, even though mine is dangerously low. People should have reasons to laugh, to experience wonder, to forget their woes- to get that hope for humanity. To further that I don the mantel of Pagliacci.

 I try to spread joy to others, be it with humorous photos and cards (which I admit are a creative yet fun challenge to create), gifts to show that someone actually pays attention, offering assistance to those in need, to just being there for people. I could be a bitter person, full of bile during the holiday season, but I want others to feel better. I want them happy. I want them to see that the world is not all bad; that things can be good… to have some hope for the world. I figure if I work hard enough at helping others enjoy the season, just maybe some of it will rub off onto me.

 Some may think I am doing it wrong, that I shouldn’t hide my feelings for the sake of others. Maybe they are right, but I feel that it is better to do this than the alternative. The world already has enough trying to drag it down.

 Despite my darkness, I will fight for the light.

Two

People who know me may know that I am always really appreciative if I am given something, be it an actual item or even a simple act of kindness. What they probably don’t know is why.

For a long time I have never revealed this, because people may think that I am too cynical. But you can’t just keep things bottled up. I have tried, but things like this fester, growing and eating at you and your psyche. So I write it out. Sometimes I publish these thoughts. More often I don’t. What will be the fate of this one? Right now I have no idea…

In these now four decades of life, I have learned many things, both for good or for ill. One of the more… realist things I have learned and taken to heart is this:

 NEVER expect anything from anyone.

 You are not entitled to anything- you have to earn it yourself. Don’t think that the goodness of others will bail you out. Never count on people to return favors. I have no expectations of people ever paying me back, it’s all pretty much written off. Once I adopted this philosophy, life became far less disappointing. But despite this, I will still go out of my way to help others, being as giving and as generous as I can be. Just because many choose not to give doesn’t mean I have to do the same.

 So when someone does give me something, I am truly touched. It could mean that they too see fit to fight the inherent selfishness of humanity. Maybe they realize that we’re all we got. Could be that while they know we as humans have to make our own happy ending, it never hurts to offer a little assistance along the way. Or maybe it’s just not a big deal to give… to share. And I find that one of the best reasons of all, and I look forward to the day when I am not surprised to receive anything. Until that day I will continue on this path.

 I thank you for reading.

Torchwood: Miracle Day the review...FINALLY

Sometimes I tend to forget myself.

When I first decided to write a review of Torchwood:  Miracle Day (T:MD) I was going to go very thorough and create it for someone who has very little knowledge of the series.  And somewhere in that I got lost. I should have taken notice when I exceeded 5 pages and had not even gotten to the actual review.  But it wasn’t until I figured to break it into three parts of at least ten pages apiece that I realized I was going way overboard.

So I stepped away.

Did other activities.

Waited for my focus to sharpen again… which I think it has.  So now let’s do this.

I am going to assume that if you are reading this, then you have had at least some knowledge of the show.  So there is no need to rehash the particulars.  T:MD  takes place a year or two after Torchwood:  Miracle Day.  Torchwood is dead, Gwen and Rhys are in hiding with their daughter, Captain Jack Harkness is no longer on Earth, and our world continues along in its usual routine- until people stop dying.  And a single word appears on intelligence computers:

 “Torchwood”.

 

The ten episodes follow the newly (and barely) reformed Torchwood as it tries to figure out what is happening and how to fix the problem.  A potentially gripping tale that would be willing to show the ramifications of a population that would no longer decrease and how to deal with it.  A noble effort, to be sure…

But it’s not QUITE what they ended up with.

To sum up T:MD in one word it would be ‘uneven’.  Brilliant highs, idiotic lows, and the one thing that nearly killed it:  Horrendous pacing of the first half of the series.  Let me put it this way:  I counted the days until the next episode of Children of Earth came out and would watch the episode twice.  Miracle Day I stopped watching it after episode 5 and didn’t resume for nearly 2 months.  I know they were trying to portray how the most likely scenario would play out, and a lot worked.  But oh Great Jebus, did it get tedious until episode 5.  There were other faults as well, but the pacing was the worst offender.

Now what I would like to talk about is some of the particulars of the series- what I liked, what I didn't, and what could have been done to improve the series.  To start off, let me talk about the one thing that would have dramatically improved this:

 Shorten the arc from 10 episodes to 7 (or 6).

 

They could have made a far tighter thrilling story if instead of making the entire season about Miracle Day, they had a couple stand alone episodes showing off the history of Torchwood.  This would have served two purposes- give newer watchers a sense of why Torchwood is how it is, and returning viewers a chance to see some of the old crew back in action.  To see an episode featuring Jack, Gwen, Owen, Toshiko and Ianto together again would have been a great treat.  Hell, they could have even had the single episodes tangentially connect to Miracle Day.  Rework the episode where Jack meets Angelo Colasanto into a stand alone whose importance to the arc becomes revealed later on.  I am just saying having the viewer realize that the 'filler' episodes were anything but would have been a great idea.

Speaking of Angelo, while that story arc was great to have for Jack, I kind of miss the 'ominsexual' tendencies he had.  One of the funnier running jokes in the series was that he would hit on anything that moves, and that no one was quite sure what his preferences were.  It's not a big thing, it just feels that a lot of potential was lost by making Jack strictly going for males of the species.  (It also fits, since it seems Jack still is mourning Ianto, which was a nice touch...)

Another small nitpick was the character of Ellis Hartley Monroe, the female politician seen trying to take advantage of Miracle Day.  I guess it is trendy to mock members of the 'tea party' movement, but this was rather petty and actually went against some of what the movement is about.  The character was wanting the government to get involved with this situation and to stop the pharmaceutical companies from profiting on this.  But since the tea party advocates for less government intrusion on people's lives and in business, it doesn't really work.  I would rather have seen her character be more motivated by religious reasons instead, because the moral majority seems more in line with her character.

While I loved Bill Pullman in this series, I got the feeling that they didn't quite know how to end his story arc in this series.  You have this great character who is the face of Miracle Day who is also a complete monster and how messed up our world becomes that he becomes that symbol.  And in the end they fumbled him.  (Don't get me wrong, his ending was pretty damned good and creepy.  It just seemed they had to find a way for him to be in the climax.)

One thing I really liked was that while in C.O.E. we see the evil that the bureaucratic governments were willing to do to restore order, in M.D. we see the results if we the people allow them to do it.  A place where people who are still living (at least technically) are incinerated 'for the greater good' is at first met with shock and disgust, but soon accepted and even expanded (class 0).  Where government workers terrorize the populace while 'doing their job'.  It was a frightening vision... and one we have unfortunately have become used to.

I will conclude this section by talking about two final things I wasn't a big fan of.  First, the overall story.  While I liked the idea of the series, in the end it really didn't make me feel this was  a story about Torchwood.  A few minor changes, it could have been an X-Files, Fringe, 24 or CSI story.  Granted, the whole 'not dying' thing would be a bit much on the more reality-based shows, but Torchwood was always about defending the Earth (and England specifically) from threats external to Earth.  C.O.E. showed this to great effect.  Miracle Day just didn't.  It was almost a bit TOO domestic.

The second thing I just could not really stand was the character of Esther Drummond.  I know that they wanted to have a relative novice in there to have someone for us to relate to, but did they HAVE to make her a complete tool?  It's almost as if she had a checklist of every stupid newbie mistake to make that she had to complete for her to win a kewpie doll.  I was mad when she finally died JUST because it took so long.

So was it worth watching?  I guess.  It is not the worst Torchwood has to offer, but it is also nowhere near the best.  And while it sets up a sequel hook with some potential, I just right now don't know if I would watch it.  I had high hopes for this, and I was let down by the amount of unevenness.  A shame...

Final thing on this:  one avenue I would have loved to see them explore because of its potential implications is the pregnancy situation.  How would no human dying have effected the right to life/ right to choose debate?  It would have been daring, even pretty controversial, but since they went to a lot of controversial places already, why not one more?

So there you have it.  I condensed 20 or so pages down into three.  I cut a LOT of fat, and hopefully got across most of the points I wanted to make.  Hopefully I made it a decent read, but if I didn't, well then I will have to try a lot harder next time...