Breaking Bad Ended and I Feel Weird

I finished Breaking Bad last Wednesday. Weirdly enough the end of that television show had more of an impact on me and my mental state than anything I've ever seen before. It wasn't just the last episode, it was the accumulation of the entire series that all of a sudden just hit me at the last moment, and watching Walter, in his final moments, made me rethink everything and I can't really explained what happened to me after that. I started crying but I was fully conscious that I could stop at any moment because I didn't know what I was crying about. That's a strange feeling. We cry about bullshit all the time, but we are always aware of the reason why we are crying, or so torn up in the emotion that the reasoning doesn't matter to us. Being in this awkward middle section makes for an uncomfortable feeling, and one that still hasn't really totally gone away.

We make connections to everything. It's in the human mind to do so. So saying that I made a connection to a drug dealing villain isn't so odd when you think that we can be easily deceived by the tricks of creepy woman with the magic ball who sells her services on the second floor of a pizza place in Jamaica Queens. My mind made my life feel like Walt's. Every little lie that I told all of a sudden felt like some huge secret, where the consequences where huge. In reality my life is nothing like Walt's, and I saw that in the last couple of episodes of the series. 

I was always a fan of Walter White, even after all of the terrible things that he'd done. In my mind, I can root for him because he isn't real, and nothing he does will affect anyone. But it kept becoming harder and harder for me to do that. That show pushed the boundaries of what I would find acceptable in another person. I would never do what Walt did, but that would mean that I would hate someone who did. That was my mentality throughout the majority of the show. I thought that Walt would kill and do these awful things, but in the end of the day he wasn't so bad that I would hate him, and even after I realized that he didn't do these things for his family, but because he liked it, I still rooted for him because if I knew I was going to die in a couple months then my mental state wouldn't be so perfect. But those last three episodes killed me. They killed Walt as a person for me, and I hated him, I saw all the awfulness that could exist in a person come out of Walt, and I was looking forward to him losing everything and hopefully die. But then the last episode came. Out of nowhere, I felt sympathy. I think that's where my mini breakdown came from. The fact that I felt sympathy for one of the only villains I've ever truly hated. And that I couldn't hate this character anymore. The show took my beliefs and turned then upside down, and then back right side up again. I believe in every person, and that no one can truly be a bad person. I stopped believing that, only so that a couple hours later I can believe it again. 

We live in a golden age of television and Breaking Bad is the crown jewel of this era. 

12 Years a Slave

*This post has spoilers

To be honest I didn't very much enjoy this movie as much as I thought I would. Recently I feel that I've been surrounded by so many movies about slavery that the plots of these movies always end up feeling similar. But maybe it's not even that. With this film I'll start with the first thing I knew about it, the title. The title gives away everything. "12 Years" tells you that this only lasts 12 Years, and implies that the main character will return home after those twelve years. It also tells you that this man was previously a free man, hence the reason why the movie doesn't end when he is age 12. The only thing I was hoping for was that during these twelve years something would happen to this man, something significant that would change his whole life, that he would discover something hidden deep inside of him and he would reach some awakening, like another movie that just came out, Gravity. The film became this pool for great actors to have very emotional scenes, which is why I think it is getting so much praise and love from viewers. The acting was very good, and some of my favourite actors gave amazing performances like Benedict Cumberbatch. But having amazing acting doesn't constitute being a good film to me if the story feels dull.

Gravity

*This post has spoilers

I've seen this movie twice since it came out in theaters. After seeing it for a second time I understand it much better. Gravity is a metaphor for birth. The woman has no reason to live because her daughter died, so she wasn't really living. Then the debris comes and she is conceived, and Clooney is the mother, he keeps her alive, and helps her to become a human again. He dies but his image is still there, as we saw in the hallucination scene. He shows her that there is something to live for, even if you have nothing. A baby has nothing, they don't have any attachments when they enter the world because they haven't met anybody yet, and that is how Bullock enters the world. In the end she comes out of the lake, wet and weak, not having anyone, but yet she still understands that she has a reason to live. Throughout the film there are so many obvious signs that help you get the metaphor, and the most is this scene when she finally gets back into a ship. If you haven't already, I highly recommend that you see this film, it's worth it, just trying to find all the connections back to the birth metaphor.

Apples, Editing & Me Life

I Drew an Apple in French

It's been too long since I last blogged, so this is gonna be a long one. I drew an apple in French class today. The whole class did, that was the assignment.

         

             I don't really think I'm that good of an artist. I really enjoy painting and drawing, and I have been building a tiny portfolio of work on my own, just for kicks, but I never considered myself to be noteworthy. With someone like me you can obviously see that I have some fine art ability but not anywhere near the level of an AP art student. When you judge the art of someone who is terrible at it, you judge it on the idea, not on the skill it took to make the piece. With an advance artist, you judge their work too on the idea, but the emphasis is also on the technical aspect. I’m in the middle. This is an extremely awkward place to be in because you can’t exactly critique me on the quality of my work, and it’s too technically good that you can’t judge it 100% on the idea behind it. 

            So the assignment in French class was to draw an apple that Mr. Pasquier put in the center of the circle that we made with our desks. Everyone was at it, drawing their apples, finishing, and waiting for Mr. Pasquier to continue his lesson. But he didn’t stop us. He circled around the room, as if he was making the first of many check ups, so I figured that we’d be here a while and I’d just work on my apple until he stopped us. And so I decided that maybe the apple needed some shading, and maybe I could draw the shadow I saw. And I don’t even realize that Mr. Pasquier is stand right over me, watching me work. He stays there for a couple of minutes before calling time and he proceeds to pick up my work and shows it to the rest of the class. There is nothing better than a room of little ninth graders all saying in their loud whisper “wow that’s really good” and my favourite, “how did he do it?” Honestly the apple wasn’t too amazing, and asking how I did it seems uncalled for because it’s pretty obvious. I drew the exact same apple as you, only I decided to rub my finger on the lead. I then realize that I’m not really that much better at drawing than these kids, I’m just older. I couldn’t draw an apple when I was 13 or 14. It was only two years ago, but this is the first time for many of these kids actually examining things. You learn more as you get older. If you asked every kid in the school to draw apples, the senior kids would generally have a better apple than the freshman kids. Actually our school does exactly that. Doesn’t the freshman mural always kinda suck compared to the senior?

Editing

For some reason I’m really getting into editing. I realize that I can go for hours without stopping. It’s one of the only things that I can actually invest a significant amount o f time in without giving up. Even with books, I can’t sit down to read for more than half an hour at a time because my body and mind just ends up feeling bored.

            Our movie is coming out pretty awesome. Sarah is just the greatest thing to film for something like this. The expression she makes with her face, and the way that she manipulates the makeup to make herself look even creepier is so amazing. Really what makes the movie feel cool is how awesome Sarah looks. I am actually scared of this creature coming to get me.

            I feel like I have so much power when I edit. I can change the entire meaning of the movie by simply just moving a scene around. I can create scenes that never happened, and, especially in this silent film, I can even create conversations. I have editing experience now. It may be small but it’s enough that now I have learned things for filming. My group didn’t film enough. A lot of the time I have only one shot of something, and it isn’t the best one that we could have gotten, or it’s not at the right angle. I came into this problem so often that I ended up using some shots multiple times because other ones either didn’t exist or really look awful.

            We filmed the whole movie on our iPhones. Not to criticize Danielle C., but her iPhone camera is kinda crap. At least compared to the one in my phone. We have the same phone, but I think I probably take care of mine better, because the quality of the shots on my camera are so much better in comparison to what we got out of Danielle’s camera. It’s not really much of a problem because the movie is in black and white, and the fuzziness makes the whole thing feel like an old horror film, which is what the project is based on.

            There are no good fonts for the dialog cards. It’s something really minor, but it sets the tone of the movie, and having a doll convince a little girl to hang herself written in Comic Sans or Times New Roman just takes away so much. I want something creepy but not extravagant. It should look like something scary, but we’re not in a castle.

Me Life

             I'm trying to reorganize myself. I've been getting lazy these past few weeks and that's never something that's good. It's hard to get out of routine, good or bad, but even harder when it's bad. I come home and watch a season of Breaking Bad, and even though it's an amazing show and I don't blame it at all for my recent laziness, I have created a habit that isn't a good one to keep. I figured it out before, but I never made a mental note so it took some time to relearn that you need to keep yourself busy to avoid these lazy streaks. Editing has kept me busy recently, and the other day I painted this on piece of wood I had in my room. I even started sewing a new Adventure Time hat because I lost my old one. Just doing things like this turn my entire life around. I get used to being busy and then I suddenly realize that I always am.

           That's what happened to me over the summer. I had an internship, I took and intensive French class, and I had my SAT class, which ended up giving me much more stress than it should of, and you who know the story will understand what I mean. Everyday I'd come home so tired, some days I'd spend all in Manhattan. I'd spend an extra half hour getting lost in the subway just because, and when I got home I'd go to bed before I could even think of T.V. And on my days off, I'd watch only the news. That was a great time. I was so tired, but so accomplished. That is what I imagine college being like, only with more parties sprinkled in and less news. I'd take classes that I liked, and even the one's  I didn't, like my summer SAT class, wouldn't be so bad. I guess school just changed that or maybe I just lost the passion, but I know how to get it back, so I will.

Sunday

My grandma's dog died today. I'm not sad for the dog. I loved her but she had been weakening for a while. My grandma is depressed, she had been long before Chela died. She takes medication and used to say that after chela died then she'd wanna leave too. I'm not afraid that she'd kill herself, her religious beliefs would keep her away from something like that. I'm afraid that she'll lose the reason to live that we all have. Chela meant more to her than anything else. Imagine living out your elderly life just waiting to die. I think we want to send her back to Ecuador. She likes it there, and Chela would only ever let her visit for a couple of weeks at a time. 

What amazes me is how strong my grandmother pretends to be. When she called yesterday saying that She needed to bring Chela to the hospital there wasn't even the slightest crack in her voice when she said that she'd probably have to put her down. I know that she cried and it was very public, but that was only after. Sadness in our family is frowned upon. We can't afford to be sad for longer than is allowed. And what is allowed is a couple of minutes after someone dies. Any other sadness you feel is meant for bedroom pillow after everyone else has gone to bed. The illusion of being strong is more important than having actual strength. I didn't cry yet. I'm still waiting for the whole event to hit me. The fact that the only animal that I ever knew at a personal level was dead still doesn't feel real yet. I wonder if they'll be a funeral. We wouldn't waste our money on a funeral. Not when the dog's hospital bills are already in the hundreds. But if there was, would I cry there? Would we follow our tradition of throwing a party around the open casket as we celebrate the dog's life? Would that be weird? Now that I think about, my family is heartless. We saw Chela as therapy for my grandmother. Give the old lady a companion so she won't bother us about how lonely she is. So would the funeral just be my aunts and uncles huddled around my grandmother as she burst into tears as everyone in the back would think to themselves that they saw this coming. Chela didn't mean anything to my mother and father. They hated her because she would bring fur into the house when she'd visit. To me and my sister and my cousin, that dog was our childhood. We'd beg to see grandma just so that we could play with Chela. 

Chela is dead now. My grandmother's mental state is still unknown to me and probably will stay that way for a while because we don't talk about our feeling very much in our family. That was basically my Sunday. That and a cartoon superman movie. Those always seem to make me feel better. 

French

I love everything French. Even French shit sounds nice right now. There is something about the language that I can't help but love. English is wonderful too. The issue with English is that it is familiar. I guess what attracts me to French is that it is so foreign. But it's more than foreign, it's exclusive. There is a pride when you speak a language like French. It's a similar pride you get if you were to learn Latin. It's a luxury language. To know English, Spanish or Chinese is a language that you need to know. In the future, when the U.S. because conquered by China, and when most people are part Hispanic, knowing English, Spanish and Chinese would normal, if not mandatory. But the exclusivity of French stays.

I changed the settings on my computer to have the computer work in French. I've gotten stuck quite a couple number of times, like at the beginning I didn't know which button to click when i wanted to cancel, but now I'll forever know that annuler means to cancel.
I've been growing a love for French music. It's odd because some of the songs I like in French aren't my style of music at all. There is an artist called Stromae that I'm becoming obsessed with. He is huge in France. I even like a rap group called Sexion D'Assault. I think I just like the way the words sound because I normally avoid any type of rap. 

Instructions Not Included

Last week it was my grandmother's birthday and she came over to the house and we had lunch. After, we went to see a movie. Instructions Not Included , or No se Aceptan Devoluciones, appears to be a cheesy comedy about a man who is forced to have to raise a child alone, after the mother leaves the little girl with the father. It reminded me of that Adam Sandler movie with Dylan and Cole Sprouse, and the IMDb ratings made me believe that it would be just as bad. BUT IT WASN'T. IMDb only had five critics’ reviews. At a glance, the 55 score that the movie got made me believe that the movie would be an awful Latino Hollywood movie, while in reality most critics liked it, and probably IMDb wouldn't put up the reviews that were in Spanish, because the majority of the film is in Spanish. 
            The first half is awful, but that's a necessary evil to set up the rest of the film. Once the mother comes back, shit starts to get real. You find yourself at the edge of your seat trying to figure out where everything started to get insane, and the cheesy comedy in the movie is all just a cruel joke to you, because the last five minutes you will cry so hard. Every cliché that you think would happen doesn't, and you find yourself spending hours after the film is over, trying to figure out what the movie was about, because the commercials advertise it as a heartwarming comedy for the whole family, when in reality it's a depressing story about a man who is facing what fear is.
            The director and co-writer of the film is a Mexican comedian named Eugenio Derbez. He is a very well known actor in Latin America, and this was his first venture into directing, and you can see that in his film, but you overlook tiny errors when you're left in tears. I know him from a film we watched in Spanish class, Under the Same Moon, where he moved away from comedy to try serious acting. He wasn't bad, though that movie wasn't good. He best known in Latin America for his television show La Familia P. Luche which ran for a decade.
            My advise to anyone who finds themselves watching Instructions Not Included is to stay until the end. You might want to kill yourself in the first half an hour, but it'll be worth once you see the end. Derbez knew exactly what is and isn't cliché because he has been in some awful films, like Jack and Jill, but he is smart enough to know how to make that cliché into something so original that you feel bad for ever calling his film cliché.