Holiday

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday.

It’s been such a strange ending to this school year. Orem High just had its last real day of complete anarchy, and now I’m pretty much officially on a summer break. It’s really about time, too, because I needed a holiday very badly.

I feel so old when I think about all the things I went through this last school year. In my junior year alone, I went through so much. I almost had no Christmas, and then I did thanks to my friends. I got a new crush. I developed a complex web of connections among friends. Some friends of mine came to me with very serious problems. I started flunking. I sluffed for the first time. I found myself the most brotherly, Christ-like friend in the whole world…and then lost him.

And most of all, I defeated my greatest darkness. I closed the door to darkness, and now walk the Road to Perdition. Once and for all, I have destroyed my dark. And I won’t have to worry about it ever again.

There’s so many other things I went through, and now coming out of all that should bring a sense of freedom. But it doesn’t. Because I didn’t think that I’d begin my vacation this way. Virtually friendless and alone. I feel so alone now. And there’s so much that’s gonna happen this summer. I just don’t know how I can do it all. Especially by myself. But I’ve got things to do, and I’ve gotta do them during this small season that I have.

I can remember just before school got out, my Newspaper/Creative Writing teacher was talking to me. Somehow, I started listing things about me in the conversation. With each thing, she became more and more astounded. Finally, after what seemed like the last straw, she blurted out in surprise, “You...you…you’re just a kid!”

And I had to nod. That just seems to be the story of my life. I’m too stupid and naïve to really compete with my ever complexifying life. (Yeah, that’s a word; no, I don’t care.) I don’t know that I’m all right with never growing up, because I’m always afraid that I’m just gonna mess up the next thing that I try to do. So I’m afraid that this summer is gonna be so messed up.

All I can do, I guess, is swallow it up and roll forward. And do what I can to make everything one big ride. Because everything for the past while has been one wrong mistake after another. But as Violet says, what might seem like a series of unfortunate events might actually be the beginning of a beautiful journey. And if there’s one thing a guy is afraid of, it’s growing too old for an adventure.

This is the dawning of the rest of our lives on holiday

Lemony Snickety

Movie Review: Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events

I’ve gotta admit: I never thought that I ever would have sat down to watch this film. That’s because before I saw the film, I was always discouraging my little brothers from reading the books. I really hated them.

But after I saw the movie, my impressions of the books changed. Now I’m reading the second book, and at the rate I’m reading I’ll through to book 11 by the end of next week.

It’s hard to say what my favorite thing about this movie was, so I’ll start off with what I didn’t like. The score was very well done, and I loved it. I might consider buying the soundtrack. However, the thing that’s holding me back from doing that is that at some points, the score got kinda repetitive. Another thing that I didn’t really like was Emily Browning, who played the oldest Baudelaire Violet. She’s pretty cute, but her acting wasn’t that great in some crucial scenes. Her character seemed to be inconsistent. And at some points the set and costume design was overly dramatic, and too reminiscent of a Tim Burton film.

Other than those things, I loved everything else. The script adaptation was severely disappointing to my little brothers because it was so unlike the books. And after reading the first one, I have to say that he’s right. But the adaptation was marvelous anyhow because of it’s ability to pack the morals and themes of the books into little five minute scenes. The first book takes almost 120 pages to do that. The film managed to deliver the theme of the books best with Violet’s line in the closing scene of the film: “…What might seem like a series of unfortunate evens may actually be the beginning of a beautiful journey.” It also keeps the book’s satire and parody of grammar—except in the film it makes the parodies about cinema. One thing they did was have Sunny, the infant Baudelaire, blatantly tell Jim Carrey’s Count Olaf, “Bite me.” Understanding Sunny’s literary role would make you appreciate that, but it cracks you up just the same.

I did say that the score was a bit repetitive at some parts. But other than that, the score was incredible for such a film. On that note, so was the set and costume design (granted their Burton shadow). And the film was extremely well cast. My favorite actor was Liam Aiken, who played the scholarly Klaus Baudelaire. I sure hope to see more of this young actor. He did an incredible job and made many young actors that get so much limelight look ridiculous. Kudos to Liam! Others in the cast that I was pleased with—other than Jim Carrey, of course—include Meryl Streep, Catherine O’Hara, Dustin Hoffman (who played a small cameo and has no relation to Kara and Shelby Hoffman, the twins that played Sunny), Cedric the Entertainer, and Jude Law. For Jude Law, the credits specifically say “Jude Law as the voice of Lemony Snicket”, but I would venture to say that Law was the silouette of Lemony Snicket as well. And now that I’ve read the book, I can say that I am very appreciative of the mysterious, subtle yet gentle Snicket tone style that Law maintains in his narration. Readers will easily identify his voice with Snicket’s in the books.

As for Jim Carrey—well, you know that he wasn’t bad. After reading the books, I see that the villainous Count Olaf was much more serious than the movie portrays. Nevertheless, Carrey’s comic adaptation was very good. There are some parts where he just plain freaks you out with his vile intentions, and others where you’re chuckling at the hilarious antics of Carrey’s three characters.

Overall, I must say that I had to re-check the box to make sure that this remarkably done film was produced by Nickelodeon Studios. I recommend Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events to everyone. I used to hate even the thought of saying that, but I really like the messages—especially the moral of maintaining high hopes despite evil around you. Viewers really should be warned: this book includes many disasters such as a house fire, an exploding door knob, a man with hooks for hands, cold oatmeal, a long knife, and a nuptial—a word which here means “having to do with legal marriage” law book. The ending isn’t very pleasant and somewhat unpredictable. So if you don’t like movies with unfortunate events like tragedies or conspiracies or fighting with only your brain against all odds—in other words, if you don’t enjoy watching a children’s film about real life, then I strongly suggest that you watch The Littlest Elf, which stars Kim Jerry.

Four Days In Verse

Here I am, up late. For the past four days I’ve gotten about 10 or 12 hours of sleep. I’m gonna just go over what happened using song and verse.

The first night was because I was up doing my “Confessions of a Rainmaker” blog (which is now accessible from the link here on this blog). That blog is about my spiritual life, so feel free to visit and give opinion. However, because it’s religious and spiritual, please don’t flame me in the comments. (Dude, don’t flame me at all, actually.) Don’t tell me I’m being blasphemous or something. If you want to attack my religion, beliefs, or confessionals, then email me.

The next night was because my friends Amaya and McKay were having a crisis. McKay is notorious at my school for a tragic reason. If you ask someone—typically a sophomore or junior—who are the most depressing people at Orem High, they’d probably list McKay in their answer. I’ve never really closely associated with the guy, but everyone always says that he’s depressed all the time and that you can never talk to him, he’s hard to understand, etc. However, when I visited his blog, I didn’t necessarily see a blue-mood guy as much as I saw…myself. I could see a lot of similarities between him and me. And while I’m reading it, I’m thinking, “How can no one understand this dude? I totally understand this stuff!!”

This song is kinda for him. It’s called “Jim’s Theme” from Disney’s Treasure Planet, but I would like to submit it as “McKay’s Theme”. P.S. I kinda like how each chorus is different.

"I’m Still Here (Jim’s Theme)"—John Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls
I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard,
Or a moment that’s held in your arms
And what do you think you’d ever say? I won’t listen anyway
You don’t know me, and I’ll never be what you want me to be.

And what do you think you’d understand? I’m a boy? No, I’m a man
You can’t take me and throw me away
And how can you learn what’s never shown?
Yeah, you stand here on your own
They can’t see me, ‘cause I’m not here.

And I want a moment to be real, wanna touch things I don’t feel,
Wanna hold on, and feel I belong.
And how can you say I’ll never change?
They’re the one’s that stay the same
They don’t know me, ‘cause I’m not here.

And you see the things they never see—all you wanted, I could be,
Now you know me, and I’m not afraid
And I wanna show you who I am. Can you help me be a man?
They can’t break me—as long as I know who I am.

And I want moment to be real, wanna touch things I don’t feel
Wanna hold on—and feel I belong,
And how can the world want me to change?
They’re the ones that stay the same
They can’t see me, but I’m still here…
They can’t tell me who to be, ‘cause I’m not what they see,
Yeah—the world keeps on sleeping while I keep on dreaming for me
And their words are just whispers and lies that I’ll never believe…

And I want a moment to be real, wanna touch things I don’t feel
—Wanna hold on, and feel I belong
And how can you say I’ll never change?
They’re the ones that stay the same

I’m the one now, ‘cause I’m still here.

I’m the one
‘Cause I’m still here
I’m still here…I’m still here…



The third night I was up talking to my friend Richard about girls, school politics, and the Book of Revelations. If you’ve ever seen the T.V. show “Smallville”, then met Richard, you’d swear that Lex Luther and Richard were the same person—except Richard is much younger, doesn’t own a mansion, and isn’t bald. (Although an infamous math teacher at his junior high once told him that all he needed to be cool was to shave his head. The teacher himself was bald.) Richard is into business, economics, politics, and women. He’s got connections everywhere, and you can ask him for almost anything. His father is a business tycoon, a millionaire. He fences. He has the same girlfriend problems. And, he’s got a knack for saving the day with style, wit, and class (unlike Clark, who just dashes in and throws people around). Richard’s one of the coolest people I know, bald or not.

Anyway, when girls came up we started talking about the girl I like, which got me thinking about her for the rest of the night, which led to this song. P.S. Hoobastank is turning into one of my favorite bands. Because fact: they’re awesome, and I can’t believe that “The Reason” is the only song that gets real radio coverage. They’ve got way better songs. P.P.S. Richard is the one who lent me their CD.

"Lucky"—Hoobastank ("The Reason")
I knew how it felt to be
Another one in need of someone to show the way,
Until you saw a part of me that nobody else could see
And my life hasn't been the same.

Chorus:
You make me feel lucky as I can be…
You make me feel
Lucky as I can be

Before, I couldn't get a break [Couldn't get a break]
Never had a chance to make the impressions I want to,
But now, it falls right into place [Falls right into place]
When I get to see your face, then there's nothing that I can't do.

Chorus

No more dark days, only sun rays
No more hard ways with you today…

You…make me…feel...

You make me feel
Lucky as I can be...lucky as I can be.



This past week, things have been getting kinda weird between Harry and I, and every day I’m wondering exactly what’s going on. Sometimes I plain don’t give a darn anymore, and sometimes I really miss the guy. So this song is for him—or rather, because of him I should say.

"Never There"—Hoobastank ("The Reason")
I'm filling up inside like, I need to open wide
And pour my heart out to you
But I'll just get denied, and all I wanted was someone
To hear what I'm going through.

Chorus:
Every time that I need you around, you're never there
[never there] You're never there [never there]
Because in my life is where I need you now,
But you're never there [never there]
You're never there [never there]

You were supposed to see all the signs I left to read in front of your face
You were supposed to be the closest thing to being me,
But you're the furthest away.
That's because

Chorus

And I doubt that I will ever find out
If there's a way to get out of feeling all alone
'Cause lately, I've been thinking maybe
If no one's gonna save me, I'll do it on my own
On my own…on my own…



And finally, here’s the way I’ve been feeling lately. P.S. Love the new 3 Doors Down album.

"Never Will I Break"—3 Doors Down ("Seventeen Days")
Lay me down, wash this blood off my hands for me
While I cry out, "Don't let me die before I go to sleep."
And I can't keep going, but I cannot start again—
This road I walk is paved with broken promises I've made
At least a million times I've fallen, but never will I break.

These walls I make, they could hold me in and hold me back today
Oh, but tomorrow's new, and I'll walk right out and walk right over you.
If you hear me screaming, please don't let me fall again—
This road I walk is paved with broken promises I've made
At least a million times I've fallen, but never will I break.

My time is on its way
I'll fall but I won't break

This road I walk is paved with broken promises I've made
At least a million times I've fallen, but never will I break.

Enter Harry

I just had some kind of revelation experience with the novel I’m reading, A Separate Peace. Part of it is because I realize that with all the symbolism I can see in it (see the analysis for the novel A Separate Peace on my blog “A Poet in Wicker Park”) is actually closely related to my current friendship with a friend.

I don’t know if I can use his real name or not, so here I’ll just use a variation of his first name: Harry. To tell this whole story, I’ve got to start at the beginning, and I’m not entirely sure where the beginning is.

Really, the beginning is with another friend of mine named Eric. He was really good friends with me in sixth grade. We were almost best friends. Then in junior high, we kinda got apart from each other. In about eighth grade, Eric found a friend named Harry who had just moved from Canada. Harry was a social outcast for some reason; he was always alone and no one wanted to be his friend.

So in our freshmen year, Eric and Harry were best friends and I only befriended them from a distance. I was entangled in other friendships, like the one I had with Dan and Quinn, and I was also in the middle of a conflict that existed in the underground of my junior high—a conflict that threatened to escalate into a Columbine at our school. (Looking back on it now, I guess I’ve always been involved in something bigger than me.)

Anyway, that’s how I knew Harry when we got to Orem High, through Eric. I didn’t really hang out with them until halfway through my sophomore year when Harry was having problems with a girlfriend. I was connected with this girlfriend because she was the cousin of the sophomore class’s underground mafia/KGB hit man, Cameron. Because I was in his little “Godfather” family, I became plunged into the drama of the whole thing. And I won’t take the time to tell that here. It’s another story, and shall be told another time. One thing that did end up happening is that I got Harry and Sam to be best friends even though before Sam hated Harry. (Funny thing is that Sam doesn’t remember that. And Quinn predicted that he wouldn’t.)

So anyway, during the whole girlfriend thing with Harry, I got to know him through that. By the end of the year, we were friends but I wouldn’t say that we were good enough friends to really touch base with each other very often. Guess Harry didn’t feel that way, because the next thing I know in the summer he’s always coming to my house to talk, and hang out. And I was really appreciative of that because I never really had a friend.

And I mean that. Eric was a good friend, but he stood out. When I was younger—maybe in fifth grade—I was told that I would never, ever have any friends. I just kinda came to accept that. Now I look back and realize that something that stupid came out of the mouth of a girl who was struggling for social power. Nevertheless, the mentality that I would never have a true friend always stayed with me. All through even up to my sophomore year. I just came to accept that no one would really be there for me.

So when Harry started to hang out with me, I felt like “Hey! A friend.” And eventually, I started to return the friendship.

Then my junior year began. And this year was so…I can only compare it to a crucible. A small place where constant pressure was causing deep, lasting changes in me. I had such a hard time living from day to day. I was struggling with an internal darkness (see my spiritual blog “The Rainmaker Confessions”) that was getting stronger and stronger. More than once I attempted suicide. I felt so far away from God. And my physical life wasn’t doing so well; my family was financially in the hole.

Harry was the one person who saved me in this dark. If he hadn’t come around keeping up on me and constantly reminding me that he wanted to be my friend and help me with whatever I was going though, I know that this blog wouldn’t exist. Because either I wouldn’t exist, or I would be in a totally different world and a totally different life. Things would have a dramatic difference if it wasn’t for Harry’s brotherly love. As the Coldplay song “Amsterdam” puts it, I was on the edge and tied to the noose, but he came along and he cut me loose. And he helped me walk away from the bridge. He promised me that he’d always be there for me no matter what happened.

One thing he also did for me was he organized a Secret Santa for my family during Christmas 2004. We were so far down in the hole that my family didn’t think we’d be having Christmas for the second year in a row. I was all right with this—mainly because I had lost all hope. But I knew that my little siblings were going to school and singing Christmas carols and go to friends houses and see lights and trees and presents…and then they’d come home to no tree and no lights, and no presents. Such an empty Christmas would be something they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

So night after night, we’d get doorbell-ditches of boxes on our doorstep. Boxes of food and presents, and even a tree. I later forced out a confession from Dan that Harry had organized the whole thing with him and some other friends: around at least ten people. It had cost them about $200 (they refuse to tell me even now and sometimes jokingly deny that they were involved, so I estimate). It cost them a lot of their time and money. But they did it for me.

And Harry did it because he couldn’t stand the thought of me being without a Christmas. You see, Harry lives in a world with certain peace and freedom and innocence. The things that exist in my everyday life such as gassing a school, kids getting pregnant, next-door neighbors taking drugs, friends attempting suicide left and right, people depending half their lives on one single action that you do…the life I lead filled with violence and danger and darkness is just not something that he can tolerate because it goes against his nature.

(And I know that the above things may be stuff you go through everyday. But I live in a place called Happy Valley/Pleasantville/Paradise. Utah Valley—Orem City especially—is filled with people with the “Happy Valley” mentality. In Orem, people think that you can’t get hurt. My life is out of the ordinary for someone like Harry. Not that he has this mentality—it’s just his nature to be that way. Maybe it’s his way of escaping his Canadian past, because I know of some secrets he’s got there, as well as in his personal life.)

All these things that Harry did for me I was extremely grateful for. Perhaps too grateful, though, because I loved to brag about how cool Harry was. And that really got on Harry’s nerves. Now he’s told me that he needs space away from me. He told me that right before my life got really dark—just when I need him most, he left me.

So, after all that analysis of A Separate Peace, I’ve gotta wonder: who jouced the branch? Me or Harry? I guess that to do that, I should determine who’s Gene and who’s Finny. Funny thing is, just like Gene at the end of the novel, I’m both.

I'll comment more fully in a later post.

A Secretary is Not a Robot

This morning didn’t start off too well. I got home at around midnight last night because I was at a study session for a chemistry end-of-year final with my sister, her friend Kristy, and my friend Richard. (Fact: chemistry finals blow.) And I had this whole plan to stay up doing articles for my school newspaper (I’m on the staff and I’m behind on this month’s issue) and doing some other stuff for school. All I needed was to lie in my bed for a few minutes and then attack my homework.

I guess that I got into bed and a few minutes later it was time to go to school. I had fallen asleep. Which totally womped, because I had more than five assignments I needed to have done. I was gone all day yesterday, and the time I had to use the computer my sister was using for the chemistry final. (Further fact: having chemistry finals when none of your other classes do also blows.)

So I’m sitting in my first period, Creative Writing, which is taught by Ms. Stanton. She’s also my newspaper advisor. She allowed me to go do some stuff for the newspaper, which included going out to interview people. When I went to the office, someone I needed to interview was in the high school’s LDS (Mormon) seminary building. I’ve had a friendly relationship with the front secretary that has somehow developed over the space of a couple of years. Part of it is because she’s so buddy-buddy with my sister, and part of it is because I’m always talking to her and keeping up with her life outside the office and what not.

However, I’ve needed to talk to a student for newspaper during seminary before, and I guess this really makes the secretary (name is Mrs. Bond, known as Sister Bond) annoyed because it disturbs the Spirit in the seminary classes that I take kids from. I totally respect that, and I can see how it might, seeing as how I’m Mormon myself. But she treats the matter like I’m the only one that does it. I’ve been in that seminary for two years, and in my classes kids are always getting pulled out by school office aids, student council, and what not. She doesn’t like it anyway.

So I write up the interview for this girl I need to talk to, Emily Hill, so that I don’t need to spend forever with her during her seminary class. All I need is a picture. I suck in my breath and I walk into the seminary. And there she is at the desk, with a look on her face like she knows exactly why I’ve come.

“Hi Sister Bond,” I say. She returns the salutation, and with a pang of guilt I say, “I need to talk to someone for newspaper.”

She gives me a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk. “Well Marcus, you know I can’t do that.” She sits back in her chair, as if she’s saying, “I will not be moved from my seat” like Rosa Parks.

“Please? It’d only be for a minute or less.”

She just shakes her head. All the images and thoughts of office aids over the years, pulling kids out of my classes without interrupting, flashed through my head. I wanted to grab her shoulders and scream, “My life is heck right now!! Please make it easier and gimme what I need!!!”

Partly because I thought I could make the situation less tense by making a joke, and partly because I was (to be blunt) fed up with her attitude, I said, “And hey—it’s not my fault that the kids I need to interview have newspaper.”

She just sat there; her face had flinched somewhere. Realizing that I misworded my joke/sentence, I say quickly, “I mean, kids that have seminary, when I have newspaper. And this is the time that my teacher let me out—”

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” she says suddenly.

Have you ever climbed a staircase in the dark, and you put your foot down where you think there’s a step, but in reality the last one you stepped on was the final stair? So your foot hits ground later than you expect, and you feel a sudden jolt when you realize what you did? That is somewhat what it’s like to lose a loved one, according to Lemony Snicket. That is also what it’s like when you realize that you’ve just insulted someone.

There I sat, mouth slightly agape. I still didn’t fully comprehend what I’d done until I got that jolt—which came from this gut feeling of realizing that Sister Bond was in shock. The tone in her voice carried some kind of terrified flavor. Then as if something terrible had just happened and she was covering it up/swallowing it down/biting her tongue, her fingers flew to her computer. “Who is it that you want, Marcus?”

90% of my mind was reeling with guilt, realizing that I had offended a good friend of mine. My mouth, somehow sensing that something was turned off upstairs, decided to take control. “Emily Hill. I know that you don’t feel good about this…” my mouth just started trying to make an explanation, an excuse, an apology—or at least something. But she just gave me the seminary teacher and refused to make eye contact with me.

I said “Thank you” but looking back, I realize that because half my brain was still registering, and my heart was feeling heavy, I sounded more like I was snapping at her with sarcasm than giving gratitude.

Later in the day, while still feeling guilty about it, I had my newspaper class. I showed up late because I was in the main office getting the names of other people I needed for articles. Incidently, the one I needed the most was in seminary. Right then and there, I gave up on finding any of them.

As I walked into class, Ms. Stanton seemed to be quiet. As I rummaged through my backpack to find the articles I had to turn in, she announced that she was going to the office. “Marcus, come with me,” she said as she was headed out.

I thought she needed me to carry something, or she’d give me an idea for an article. I was surprised when as we walked, she asked slowly, “Tell me what happened in the seminary this morning.”

Oh, I thought, this womps. I explained what had happened to her, and as we approached the office she explained to me that Sister Bond had called her shortly after Creative Writing got out.

“She was, from what I could understand, very offended. She told me…” she paused uneasily. Then, “She told me you were the rudest student that she’d ever interacted with.”

I wanted to die. Right there. It was then that my business being friends with Sister Bond was over, and that all my friendships were hinged as delicately. I couldn’t function correctly. I’ve felt for so long that because I’m such a mess-up, I can’t have a best friend ever again (that’s a different story, and shall be told another time). But this just confirmed that the messes I cause will destroy friends. Who would of thought it’d be the Mormon secretary?! Now it seems like I can’t get anything right. And somehow, I’ll mess up each and every one of my friendships. It’s better if I just stay out of good friendships from now on.

Ms. Stanton must have somehow realized that this deeply affected me, because then she continued to say how she herself didn’t think that I was that way, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. I could barely understand anything. I just sat there, wondering what my future was. If I can’t have friends, I am gonna die. Eventually, my heart will blow out like a candle if there’s no one there to keep it going. The ones who could keep it the strongest have disappeared from my life. Now everyone else is disappearing, too. No one knows…I start thinking. The darkness in me…no one knows…no one can see it or smell it, and yet I am saturated by it. No one knows…

After school I went and apologized to Sister Bond. Her main emphasis was that I had broken LDS seminary policy by not obtaining permission from Ms. Stanton to go specifically to the seminary building. She acted like she wasn’t offended by my remark at all. She mentioned that I’d said it, but if only for an instant—then rushed on like it hadn’t actually happened. I felt like out friendship was out the door like last night’s dinner slop, and that I belonged out there with it.

It may seem to you, reader, that it’s a petty thing to feel guilty about offending a secretary. But for me, I’m affected by the guilt on so many levels. I’m trying to do my best and forget about the whole stupid thing (partly by talking about it).

As I walked out, Sister Bond says to me, “You’re a good person, Marcus.” Her voice sounds a little strained, like she's trying to be polite.

I chuckle sadly as I shake my head. “No,” I say firmly. “I’m not.”

And then I walk off.