Spork

Day 2 of the festival for me, but really Day 4.  Only got to watch one movie tonight because I have an exam at 8:30 tomorrow morning.  Again.

Synopsis:  A teenager hermaphrodite named Spork must learn how to dance for the upcoming school Dance Off and defeat her enemy– the uber bitchy Betsy Byotch and her group of cronies.

Super awesome things: the throwback to ’80s and ’90s music and culture is really cool.  The film is drenched in nostalgia and faded colors that could’ve fell flat on its face but it works.  It’s glitzy, glamorous (aestetically speaking), and all the characters are ones you love or you love to hate.  Spork, played by Savannah Stehlin is great and understated in the title role as the extremely awkward and quiet hero of the film.  Despite the fact that she is only 15 — as is the case for many of the other high schoolers in the film — and that they look noticeably younger than, say, the “kids” on Glee, what doubts I had of their talents were cast away when the actors danced, sang, and acted with such ease.  This is largely due to the humorous script of writer and director J.B. Ghuman Jr., who has a good balance between comedy, believable (ie. not melodramatic) drama, and coming of age scenes that work cohesively to cement the themes of the film.  Even during serious scenes, Ghuman Jr.’s wicked sense of humor reminds us to not take the film too seriously (in one scene, Spork runs home crying and along the way, kicks a dog who barks at her, or the very last scene of the film which I won’t spoil).

Not so awesome things: The film appears to be set during the ’80s sometime, what with the big hair-dos and undertones of post-Civil Rights Movement, but then Charlie, Spork’s romantic interest, mentions Justin Timberlake, which places the film much later.  When is really taking place?  It’s not a make-or-break question by any means, but it did leave me questioning things.  Other irks that I’ve come across among other reviews for the film suggest that it’s been done before– the outcast, freakish hero/heroine vs. the popular kids, a la Juno, Mean Girls, etc.  And I have to agree with that; although Spork may not have a completely original plot and the structure is largely the same as other teen movies, what makes the film stand out from those other ones are the characters.  That being said, I know some people may have issues about how clearly stereotypical it makes Black people (they’re all good at dancing, they’re all sassy) that at times, it almost comes across as offensive, but because of the light tone and how everyone was laughing, I guess that makes it okay somehow?  Sort of?  Another review I read commented on the film’s lingering on scenes, and it was particularly evident when Spork and Tootsie Roll go to the dance club.  Sure, there were some crazy lighting, color, and slow-mo experimenting in those scenes, but it did feel a little redundant.  And finally, despite me cheering her on throughout the film, the climax of the film, at the Dance Off, is a little too convenient.  I suspended my belief for almost 80 minutes but there’s only so high I can do it.

Good for watching: for a nostalgic trip.

Overall: A hilarious, quirky comedy that has the potential of becoming a cult classic.  I’d recommend it to youth thoroughly.

Grade: B

I Am

Apparently I haven’t posted this one.  I wrote this back in Grade 10 for one of my classes.  It was based on a template that everyone in the class got and we all basically had to fill in the blanks.  I’m assuming the teacher read it but she didn’t do or say anything to me after.  I probably would have.

I Am

I am depressed, alone.
I wonder what it’s like to be normal
I hear words of hate dripping off peoples’ mouths.
I see his face
I want him to notice me.
I am depressed alone.

I pretend it’s when I’ve gone to hell and back.
I feel afraid of getting too close.
I touch the soft mist of his aura.
I worry about myself.
I cry from rejection.
I am depressed, alone.

I understand true understanding.
I say life is without meaning.
I dream of even the shortest exchange between him.
I try to be myself.
I hope to make it.
I am depressed, alone.

Dream 10

From Aug. 24, 2005

I was in the old house, in my own room.  It was about 8:00 at night, or that’s what my alarm clock said.  I think my sister introduced me to this guy in a robe, who was actually Jordan.  Almost immediately, I began making moves on him.  I remember we talked about stuff, but I don’t remember what.  I put my arms around him and felt his warmth.  But he was all, “Don’t get me wrong.  I have nothing against those people.”  In other words, he was straight.  I (obviously) was sad and asked if he could just lie next to me on my bed.  He did.  Don’t know how it ended because the dream was too long ago.

[My commentary: sigh.  I think I can decipher this one.  I had a huge crush on this guy, and actually knew a little about him so it wasn’t just an infatuation based on looks like it was for Sean.  Anyway, I really thought there was a chance he was gay, or maybe it was just wishful thinking.  At the time, though I longed for a boyfriend, what I really wanted was to have a gay friend, to have someone I could talk to about these things.  Despite coming out at 14, I thought that I’d be somehow find a hidden community of gay teens like me at school but that never happened.  I’m sure my lack of any sort of popularity/most people never knowing I was actually out contributed to it as well.

In the end, Jordan probably did turn out to be straight and it really wasn’t until post-high school that I started to actually talk to and find people like me.  It was so alienating, so lonely.  More lonely than I can really put in words.]

Endless Days

More angsty (bad) teen poetry, written probably in 2005.

Endless Days

Where am I getting this air from?
I can’t breathe from this
suffocation
that’s strangling me,
squeezing every last ounce of oxygen
out of my lungs.
In the words of my sister Pink
I don’t want love to destroy me
like it did my family.
Yet I know you laugh, scornfully
that I’m a Simon
knowing so much, yet having so little
So much wiser than you could ever imagine
wisdom after learning such harsh lessons
full of sound and fury, signifying nothing
except the need to want
and keep wanting.
Why can’t we be satisfied with
what we have already?
Who cares?  It doesn’t matter.
In the end, the dream of life shatters.

In the Mind of a Wise Idiot

While in the New Shoots Creative Writing program in high school, I think we were supposed to write something performance-y or at least something that our mentor, whose name I have forgotten… no!  Ben!  Yes!  Ben was supposed to look over and give comments.  I went through a phase in high school where I thought that writing the most random things that came to mind equalled great poetry.  How very, very wrong I was.

This initally consisted of 3 pages, both sides, of the most random things I could think of.  Some were inspired by what was around me, mainly Math class.  Of these three pages, I then took passages from all three and condensed them into one prose/poem thing.  There’s no story, so it’s not really prose but it’s not structured like a poem (then again, free verse = anything).  I remember thinking this was the most brilliant thing I had written.  How Ben was able to read and make any sort of sense of this is beyond me.

In the Mind of a Wise Idiot

 

“Not at all”, he said to me as I wondered what it would be like to finally taste the sweetness of his lips.  Don’t tell me I’m dreaming again, I think to myself.  Well, how can I be dreaming if I can think?  Maybe it’s that even the first time I saw him that it changed everything for me.  The randomness of school makes it impossible for me to do anything.  At all.  At all, at all.  Somehow, I find myself wondering about him all…yes, all!  The times are changing; perhaps I will feel different tomorrow.  Perhaps, perhaps not.  Perhaps he will finally notice me…

 

Why am I so scared anyways?  It doesn’t make sense, well…we’re all scared of something, especially the truth; it blinds us, it tortures us, it shows us things we’re hiding from All!  this time.  And yet we can’t seem to accept it!  It is like we want another reason, but we are given the reason; we just refuse to believe it.  How stupid of us, all of us.  Why are we all! so stupid?  It doesn’t make sense.  Then again, nothing ever makes sense.  It probably never will.  We will all! continue to blind ourselves from the truth that we refuse to believe.  I don’t understand.  And I probably never will.

 

I wonder if I should do anything about it.  About what?  There’s nothing to do and nothing anyone can do.  Well, except for both of him.  Perhaps he’s scared.  Perhaps he doesn’t know if I am or not.  Perhaps he himself isn’t.  Perhaps this, perhaps that.  Only time will.  Tell me what you think.  Make sense of ALL!  Look, there he is again.  I think he was looking at me. But I didn’t look back.  Should I have?  Who cares anyways?  But it’s not impossible right?  I don’t know what to think anymore.  Should I keep chasing after him, or in that case, anyone if I don’t get high?  Hmm…maybe.  Maybe not.  Maybe I should stop.  Stop.  Stop.  Stop, yes…that sounds quite right.  Hmm…everything seems so wrong.  What is right?  What does it mean?  The brightness of his shirt is overwhelming.  Who is this?  Who are you?  Who is everyone?  Who is anyone?  How do we know who we are if nothing is right? Math is stupid and endearing ’till eternity.

Nothing can escape a black hole; its black, black, black heart swallows all.  This reminds me of when I thought about not breathing ever again before.  Nope, not fun at all.  Why don’t everyone just shut up?  Please, shut up!  Get out now, you stupid opossum!  And stay out!  Don’t forget to shut up!  It makes no SENSE!  Yes, that’s what we all need; some sense.  How can I make sense of sense if I can’t sense it?  Hmm…perhaps my binder holds answers.  I don’t know anything. “Funner” is not a word, you stupid hoe.  I really should just stop because I’m not making any sense…yes, that word again!  I’m confusing myself.  What should I do?  If today is gone, would we be on February 14th?  Quite strange really, but maybe…maybe not.

I wonder if people wonder.  I wonder if people wonder about the same things as I do.  Perhaps, perhaps not.  Perhaps they are normal.  Perhaps, no one is normal.  Perhaps we are all queer and I’m normal.  Perhaps my people are the normal ones.  Perhaps, perhaps not.  That seems to make so much more sense…there’s that word again.  No!  My god!  Your god sucks!!!  Math sucks.  Here sucks.  Do I suck?  I don’t know but probably.  Imagine all the people, living in hell.  That I can do.  Hmm…cards can be fun if you’re a hobo.  The pink fluffy bunnies will continue to hop until their legs fall off.  Alive, then dead.  I wonder about him and the future.  Perhaps it will all! change.  Perhaps, perhaps not.

Wow.  I am so obviously sane.

Dream

I think I should just start numbering all the dream entries I post instead of trying to label them as “Another Dream” or “Old dream”.  Stuff in square brackets is my commentary.

Dream

July 10?, 2004

In a store and Maggie Simpson is there.  Bart and Lisa are there too.  We’re trying to pick out a nice toy that Maggie will like.  Finally, I find a LIsa doll and Maggie loves it.  She’s hugging it and she’s happy.

In Superstore with Maggie [my sister, I’m assuming, not Simpson] and Florrie.  We’re looking at all this crap and we want to get out.  So we do and then we come back inside but we can’t find anyone (my aunts and cousins).  So we go in this room filled with popcorn and after we swim through it, we find them.  Jeffrey [one of my cousins] is being stupid and is in a stroller [which is fitting since he’s such a friggin’ baby].

Art Class

Written on the back of the same paper as the homeless story.

Art Class

When I look back on it, it seems like such a distant memory.  Even when I think about it, it’s more difficult than it really should be.  Like the word love.  So tereotyped but usually by people who can’t find it themselves.  A stroy about real love is what we all need, like mine.

I remmeber when I was in Grade 8 art class.  I knew nobody since I was new to the school.  The students in my class were waiting around the door of the classroom when I saw him.  From that moment on, I constantly thought about him and never cared for anyone else.  It doesn’t matter what he looked like, but that I was just so mesmerized by his personality and charm, even from such a far distance.

Just then, our teacher came and opened the door for us.  Easels were set up around the room for everyone.  She told us to each take one.  I chose one at the perfect angle to him, with the sun casting a brilliant glow on his face as he smiled.  I remember her telling us to paint freely, since this was our first class.  I couldn’t think of anything but when I looked up, I knew.

Something to Live For

Probably some other crap I wrote in Math class in high school.  That last part with the “no longer” is written in super big capitals on the page.  Wow, I was so emo…

Something to Live For

So what’s the meaning to the biggest question?
We all make up reasons:
Jobs
School
Love
Fakeness, all Fakeness

Run by society’s madness
Out of control, beyond the brink of extinction
THe laughter, echoing throughout the
eras of  time.
All because of the lie created by our
DAMN
Society and the media
And for what reason?

Take a picture.
I’ll last no longer.

 

Race

Omg, this is so overdramatic… ugh.

Race

Life is like a race; the first person at
the end of the line wine; wins what?  Well, they win
the prize happiness, while us losers end up with nothing
but the thrill of death.

The Meaning of Life (part 12)

“Love,” I said, “love is the meaning of life.  It doesn’t matter what kind of love it is, just as long as you find that special person who makes you happy.  That person understands everything about you and always does his or her best to cheer you up.  It doesn’t matter what kind of people are in love; there is no wrong kind of love.  At some point in everyone’s life, they feel love.  This may take 10 years, maybe 50 years.  Love is the one thing that brings people together.  It doesn’t matter what two people are in love, because it is just love.  Even in a million years, love will be the only thing that hasn’t died out, because in the end, love is love, even for gay people, like me.”

*           *           *           *

So that’s my story about love, but in case you were wondering how my class reacted, well, let’s just say everyone was shocked and Mr. Salice was angry.  I still miss Sean very much, but I’ve gotten over most of it.  I hope someone in the future has the chance of reading my story and learning from it.  Someday, people will realize that the country they are living in isn’t the utopia promised after the election of President Tree.  I’m not going to ever see Canada, I think.  There are just so many reasons why I can’t.  My mom would be upset with me, I would miss school but most importantly, police cars have just pulled up in front of my house.

The End!