Retrospective

June 18, 2010

Yesterday was a fairly uneventful day, at least in terms of normality. What is normal? I always ask myself that question whenever the topic of being normal comes up, I digress. I like to consider myself as a unique human being, with the same qualities as everyone else. I get scared, I am anxious, and I even question my own confidence from time to time. But does that really make me different from normal society? As a society, we all have different opinions on what normal is. Can we really deem someone as diverting from normality because they are different from us? No. Everyone leads different lives, and that uniqueness is what makes us, as humans, interesting and original. If everyone was the same, we’d be living in a Stalin-esque state of being. Each morning when I wake up, I travel down my stairs to the kitchen. From the kitchen, I walk to the other side of my house and I look to see if my ailing grandmother is ok. My grandmother is a very sick, old woman. She’s been sick for the past 2 years, and that is how long she’s been living in my house for. She suffers from throat cancer, which is rapidly spreading throughout her body. She has also suffered from a stroke, which occurred 2 years ago, that has fried her brain. Now, my grandmother is not even able to form a concise and understandable sentence. My grandfather also lives with my family, but he suffers from a far worst disease than cancer or a stroke, he suffers from depression, and closed mindedness, with a hint of arthritis. I feel the worst for him, because he watches his wife day in and day out, slowly slipping away from reality, and deteriating into dust.

Don’t feel bad for me, or my family. I’ve come to terms with my grandmother’s passing away, and my grandfathers inevitable passing after my grandmother departs. It’s all about the circle of life, really. When you are a child your parents take care of you. Clean up your poop, clean you, and watch you day after day. Then your parents get old, and they are brought into that same pseudo child like state again that you were in. Now, they can’t take care of themselves, and you need to clean up their poop, and wash them. Don’t hate the inevitable; hopefully with my parents, the technology and medicine of our future will prevent anything like that to ever occur. See, normal is only in the eyes of the beholder. I take care of my grandparents because it is my duty as their grandchild to take care of them, and give them comfort in these last years of their life. My life is far different from yours, but that doesn’t make me abnormal, it honestly makes me more original and unique.

My entire life isn’t about taking care of my grandparents; I am also a consistent writer and screenwriter. I write for the coastal breeze newspaper on Marco Island, Florida. I also write with my twin brother. Vinny and I have been working constantly on a screenplay for the past month and a half. Overall, the screenplay is going very well, though it is very hard to create a complete story that is satisfying, yet unique. I love creating stories, it is one of the only true, and natural forms of art I can think of. Storytelling has been around for centuries, and it was done by the best of philosophers, scientists, and theologians. The artist seeked to tell a story with his painting, and the filmmaker set to tell a filmic story with her film. The mental work that goes behind creating a story is so fascinating and real, it’s a pure stream of consciousness. To conceptually create other worldly places, and characters that come to life through the imagination of its creator is pure genius. Some people believe that the human mind is god, and that the creation of story is a natural act from the lord above. Personally, I am an atheist, but I understand the merit that goes behind such statements as that. When you are conceiving and creating a story, it’s as if it is flowing from the mouth of god herself. The human mind takes many forms, and to create a story full of emotion and character, takes a true artist, and a creator. I still feel that musicians are true artists as well, but writing stories and making movies is a far more in depth process than creating music, and making an album.

Last night I watched Session 9 with my brother Vinny, and my friend Danny. The movie lacked a proper story line, leaving the characters walking around aimlessly, letting them find their own way into insanity. The character development wasn’t very good, so I felt so unattached to these characters, that when the murdering and mayhem started, I felt no sorrow, or remorse for the 2 dimensional characters. The twist ending of the film was a surprise, but after all the fleeting bullshit that came before it, I was already done with the film before the surprising ending came afoot. David Caruso? I thought you where only doing that bad acting thing in CSI: Miami, but as it turns out, you not only are a bad actor in CSI, but in all the movies you act in! Great Job!