So this is my attempt at blogging. Never thought I would attempt it but I have opinions, they may not matter but hopefully other individuals can relate or better yet disagree and convey their own intellectual opinions. It makes me feel alienated from the rest of the world when people say that the way to true happiness is through what makes you happy. I feel like everyone has that one true thing in their life except for me, I m sure that I am mistaken but I can’t help thinking about it.

            I came from a very dysfunctional family where most of the love was squeezed out by actual real hatred for one another. My brother’s hatred for me came from me always wanting to hang around him because he was my older brother who was smart but cruel. Even at a young age I knew how intelligent he was and I admired how easily everything came to him but I could see behind his eyes a tortured soul. We don’t talk anymore but I still dream about us reconnecting one day. My hatred for my little sister came from being insensitive and maliciousness. She knew I didn’t like her and she fed off of it. She grew up to be a very strong woman but also a very spiteful and devious bitch. My sister is only out for herself and will do whatever is in her power at equalizing what she feels is right with a nasty retribution. For me, I am a master at completely shutting anyone who is close to me. Obviously I do it so I don’t get hurt but of course that is never the case. Wow, this turned fairly personal pretty quickly, lol.

            Ok, so the point I m trying to make is that I feel like the love, even the smallest amount, that was supposed to surround our little family was vacant and now I m just attending school to receive a diploma of English because it interests me and I don’t really love it, or anything for that matter. I may enjoy it for a while but like everything else I grow tired of it and look for something new to perhaps love. I guess that’s why any long term relationship I have been in doesn’t really last or grow, it just kind of blooms in the beginning but where is it supposed to go from there? Like everything else it slowly decays and becomes mulch.

            The only real thing worth a pursuit that I can consider to love for the rest of my life would be movies. When I was a kid of about 5, my sister, brother and I would always watch movies with out dad when he had us for the weekend. It was the only concrete thing that we could ever expect of him, that and his inability to be reasonable with anything that might have challenged the way he thought. He would always make us sit down and watch movies with him and they were always horror movies: Candyman, Chucky (the number one scariest movie for me by far), Invaders from Mars, and countless others that I cannot remember the titles of, only creepy images from my past. We weren’t even allowed to talk during the movie, just sit in front of the couch and sit as far away from his as possible so not to be grabbed during a frightening scene and scared shitless by his scream and then great displeasure as he laughed about how terrified he made us feel. Contrary to how I may make this sound it is actually one of my fondest memories of my father. We always knew that the death grip from his overly strong grip was just seconds away from grabbing our shoulders and shaking us from the reality of Candyman gutting another victim. He was there to show us that it was just a movie and these kind of movies were to be taken lightly and enjoyed, even though that fucking Chucky doll still haunts me to this day. I can’t even go inside a Spencer’s Gifts because I know they sell that shit eating grin of a doll.

            Anyways, I figured the best way to incorporate movies with my English degree is to start writing about movies from my perspective, even though it may have already been said in a thousand different better ways. I watch movies daily and cannot think how my life would be if I wasn’t able to. Growing up, kids would buy CDs (back in the day before Napster changed everything) and talk about singers; I was the kid who wanted to collect movies and where the inspirations came from to make a movie possible. A lot of my memories are connected with movies; for example we always had Super Bowl parties at my house and all of our friends would come over to watch it with us but right after my brother would show Evil Dead, but show it in our room with the door closed and away from all the parents because we were still too young to be watching that kind of absolute awesomeness. Sitting there with our friends watching an hour and a half of Ash hacking up his possessed friends is a memory I wouldn’t change for anything.

            So I guess it be foolish for me to feel like I don’t have that one true love guiding me in my pursuit to happiness. With so many cherished memories attached to movies it would be asinine for me not to pursue them in everyway possible and incorporate them into much of my future. They will always be there and I will always be there to enjoy them.

            I was recently reading an article in Little White Lies, easily my favorite movie publication, where Tom Hardy was being interviewed and he talked about his experiences when watching a movie. He said that if you are watching a movie with him and he isn’t speaking then the movie has done its job and transported him to another place and he is no longer just watching the movie but he is now apart of it. Tom pretty much nailed how magical a film can be. Of course not all movies are made to do this but for me to have that transcendental experience is why I watch movies. Movies can evoke those certain emotions that may stay hidden in our daily lives but when that projector is rolling we feel for each character as if they were apart of us. Our sympathy, love, hatred, pity, sorrow, guilt, etc are all genuinely portrayed during these experiences. That’s why whenever you hear someone say ‘it was like a scene from a movie’ after a surreal experience in their life it’s because in those moments all those emotions, like the ones we feel during a film, are genuinely felt in reality. We try to gage and rationalize these moments through past experiences but when there are none for us to grasp onto we judge them based upon a vicarious experience we have felt, a scene from a movie. The line distinguishing reality is erased when we partake in this experience, and that blows my fucking mind.

            I have no real goals with this blog, other than to communicate my ideas and opinions through something that which I love. I hope that someone will enjoy it and please, please, please if there are any comments you would like to communicate, good or bad (especially bad), please feel free to let me know. Thanks