I'm back!

And...

God, it's been a while hasn't it? What's it been, three months? It's been so long I've forgotten how to do this properly. So allow me to be awkward for a while until I figure things out again.

I'm in (hopefully - to be explained momentarily) the final stretch of my college experience. The classes are pretty much going how I had expected them to go; with one minor exception. I've been accused of academic dishonesty - so as of this moment I am typing this I do not know if I am passing or failing that class. For those unaware of what exactly that means, he (the accusing professor) believes I have plagiarized one of my essays. The kicker is that he thinks I plagiarized Sparknotes of all places. As if I'd be stupid enough to do that. But once again, I have to digress before I stress myself out about the situation, more than I already have. I was supposed to find out more about the situation sometime yesterday (April 4), as apparently there was a hearing on the matter - students not welcome for whatever bullshit reason - but I have heard literally nothing about it as of 2:16PM this afternoon (April 5).

I do not like the way the college has handled (or seems to handle all of them from conversation with others) the situation at all. I'm not sure how it works at other schools. But let me tell you how it works here.

STORY TIME!

the teacher see's that the student may have committed academic dishonesty and may contact the student informally to investigate (this did not happen). Within five business days the instructor gives the student the notice of the claim or it is mailed to them, and then must decide to dispute the claim within ten business days. At the same time the instructor notices the possibility of academic dishonesty (before notifying the student via form) the professor notifies the department chair, who then within three business days (still before the student must have the form), reviews the form and forwards it to the school dean. So, in many cases, before the student even knows things are happening, the school dean may already be looking at the claim and making a decision on the matter. In other words you could be kicked out of the school before knowing any of this was going on. If the student chooses to dispute the claim to the school dean (before a decision has been reached) the school dean then determines the appeal's worth, and without meeting with the student, may dismiss the claim immediately without question within the next three business days, penalties standing. Either that, or they accept the appeal and hold a formal hearing (which is what I believe just happened), and then within three more business days the student is informed of the hearings decision. In the mean time, the student still has to go to this Pavlov's class, that they are failing or not failing, and deal with this professor that is not allowed to discuss the issue with them whatsoever. 

So, I could have been kicked out three business days after the claim was issued, but that didn't happen, I got my appeal to the school dean out in time. But if the hearing happened on Friday, I have to wait until at most, fucking Wednesday (April 9), which means one more class with the accusing professor, to hear anything about the situation. I think the biggest issue with the whole thing is that the student has no place in the process other than the initial appeal. I cannot do jack shit other than say, "yeah, uh, I didn't do that." The other big issue with it, is that it takes way too fucking long, and it stresses the students out to the point where they don't care about their other classes at all, and all they care about is fixing this problem. But they can't fix the problem, because they are not allowed to do anything other than submit an appeal against the claim. Basically, all of this has made me just, not want to be in this school. But thankfully I have three other professors this semester and an amazing girlfriend who all keep me sane. Further, if I am failing this class, meaning the appeal failed, I have to come back for another semester to graduate, which I do not want to do in the slightest. I mean, it would allow me to take at least one class in the new Liberal Arts building, but if I have to do that because of this bull shit, I'd rather just drop out - and I mean that, I'll finish this semester, and not come back. I will willingly not graduate, I will not give this school another fucking dime, just for a slip of paper that says I'm "smart" and I achieved something that half the fucking population receives. 

End of Story!

I feel like the use of "brah" is what makes this superior to other .GIFs

It takes time to write like this, more than it used to, and I'm not entirely sure why. I feel like writing personal stuff is harder  - yet I don't know exactly why it's more difficult. All of that being said, I'd like to take a minute (just sit right there) to talk about my life, now and after college.

As you could probably guess from the situation I spelled out not too long ago life isn't exactly going according to plan. But I honestly couldn't care less, because I still have, what I assume (more of a hope, really) to be, a rather bright future ahead of me. Most of those thoughts come from my lovely girlfriend, and my plans to move in with her and stuff. And the puppy I'm totally going to get. Puppies, even future puppies, make everything better. Everything.

It'll be a Labrador, likely of the chocolate variety.

 

So yeah, aside from the school issues, life is going pretty good though - and to my fellow friends, who may be reading this, we might need a roommate - so if you're interested... call me! As my last bit of business I will now do a review of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Enjoy.

The Trailers:

Expendables 3

 

Lucy

 

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Maleficent

 

Blended

Guardians of the Galaxy

The Review:

This is, in my opinion, the best of the Phase 2 Marvel movies so far. Phase 2 includes Iron Man 3 and Thor: The Dark World, and will continue for Guardians of The Galaxy on August 1, 2014 and The Avengers: Age of Ultron on May 1, 2015. The movie is a lot darker than it's predecessor, Captain America: The First Avenger, though still light at heart as most of Marvel's movies tend to be. Cap is faced with many issues that are both personal and impersonal. As is the case with most movies, it's the personal that is of intrigue. Something's going down at SHIELD, and The Winter Soldier is out on the loose, and it's up to Cap to save the day with the help of Black Widow, and the newly introduced Falcon.

The Winter Soldier's identity reveal was handled quite well, anyone who wasn't expecting it, like my girlfriend, was in for quite the surprise.

Though, as it seemed apparent for one kid, children may not be able to follow or make the connection as to who he is, regardless of him being named in the film and the kid being told who he is. Hearing "who is that guy" every time he appeared on screen was initially annoying, but became quite humorous by the time it happened in the film's climax.

There's a lot of twists and turns in the film, and a hell of a lot of ups and downs. The pace slows and picks up, then slows back down again. If the first film was made to be a World War II movie first and a super hero movie second, this one is a political thriller first. Dr. Strange is apparently referenced, I missed it so I wasn't able to mark out and confuse the hell out of my girlfriend and suite mate, but here's my (don't read if you don't want spoilers) source. So it looks like Dr. Strange at least exists in this universe, so a future movie, likely in Phase 3 (Ant-man and Captain America 3 being the only two in that phase as of now) is entirely possible.

 
The film was fairly par for the course as far as superhero cinematography goes. The action, though quick cut, was fairly simple to follow. And the explosions, as many other than myself would greatly appreciate, are all done in wide shot so you can enjoy them in all of their glory - no obscured explosions here.Though this doesn't serve to jumble or confuse the audience, as is the goal - or at least, the result - of many-o-mediocre directors of photography.

With this being the set up to the next Avengers film, and Guardians likely having nothing to do with the aforementioned sequel, I'm certainly looking forward to seeing what Joss Whedon does with it. I know he can pull it off, because it's Joss Whedon, but here's to hoping for Thanos in Avengers 3 when the Guardians finally team up with them, along with Dr. Strange and Ant-Man, hopefully.

Post Credits Tease:

Like with Thor: The Dark World, there were two scenes in the credits sequence. One teasing The Avengers: Age of Ultron. The other teasing, I'm assuming, the recently announced Captain America 3 slated for a May 2016 release.

The Score:

9 Captain America shields out of 10

So, yeah, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, turned out to be a pretty fun ride. Well worth the watch, though I'm assuming most people will be doing so without my approval.

I plan on keeping this going on a weekly basis, with a new post every Friday or Saturday night, potentially missing a week or so. Later bitches, it's good to be back. Watch the video to tie you over until next time!

I've Ran Out of Things To Talk About

Important things. (with Demetri Martin).

I have to preface this one, with the following message to all reader who have read my previous post entitled "Depression." I appreciate the few of you that have gotten in contact with me over Facebook via commenting on my status or by private message. I really do appreciate it. But let me explain something. While your intentions may have been pure, they do not come off that way to me. It has nothing to do with you, and I don't hold any grudges against you, as you were only trying to help, it does however have everything to do with the way I am wired. 

Whenever someone tells me I need help, psychological help, therapeutic help, whatever kind of help, and they aren't being sarcastic, I take it personally. I can't help it either. It's just how I work. So telling me I need a therapist, or that I should look into getting one to talk about my problems with someone, isn't good for me. it's actually detrimental. It makes me feel that you think I am inferior to you in some way, regardless of whether or not you actually do, and it actually makes me feel worse. In other words, I appreciate that you are trying to help, but please stop, because it isn't helping, it's making it worse.

I'm not suffering, so don't worry. One day in near a thousand day's where I break down in tears is not a sufferer make. It was much more common back in the day, but I have managed to get myself out of the funk, whatever funk I was in, am now a (somewhat) normal and functioning member of society. the day's on which I lose my emotions, which again isn't common in the slightest, has nothing to do with what has been going on in my life (i.e. stress, a break-up, or the death of a beloved character in a show, book, or movie), it's totally random and out of my control. And while yes, on some days - most days even - I don't want to get out of bed, and I literally have to roll myself out to get up, that's nothing that should be worried about either. Because who wants to get up in the morning anyways.

All that being said. I again, thank those who were worried enough to reach out to me, but please, stop.

By the way. These will likely be coming out slower, one to two a week at most - as opposed to two or three a week. I've realized that I have been pumping these out too fast, and i am slowly running out of things to talk about if I plan to keep this pace and blog length. so I'm just going to slow down the pace of blog posts and get these out when I get around to it and have more to talk about.

School is coming to an end. And that terrifies me for two reasons.

REASON ONE: I have to go live in the "real world" soon.

REASON TWO: I am getting old. I'll be 22 for Pete's sake. TWENTY TWO.

Despite my hatred of Taylor Swift and her music, I couldn't resist using this .GIF.

To backtrack a bit. Back to the depression stuff briefly. the only thing that kept running through my head, is how much do people actually know me. Do they just know who I am, as in, they just match the face to the name. Do they know my writing style, my voice (verbal, sonical, and prosal). Do the people that don't read this really know me?

It's a serious question. and I guess it doesn't just pertain to me either. It relates to anyone really. How much do the people you interact with daily, know about you, do they know the real you, or a projection? I'm getting all philosophical and I love it, because questions like this fuel my existence. I believe that maybe only twenty people know I'm a sufferer of "self-diagnosed mild depression" outside of this blog and its readers. I feel like we want to believe that we know the people around us. But do we really? I'd say three to five people know the "real me" while everyone else has this vague idea, and I don't think that's anyone's fault. It's just really difficult to actually know someone. You could easily think you know someone, through daily interaction. But, and be honest now, have you ever had one of those "I thought I knew that person" moments. I guess that's really where my question stems from. How much do we really know, the people we think we know. Think about it. Get back to me. We'll do a discussion in the comments section if you so wish. :Lets have some fun with it.

Back to college the stuff. My life as a college student is ending. My final semester starts at the end of January. My final semester. Final semester. Final. Semester. Sorry, blacked out there in a haze of my own sadness that I am no longer going to be going to Brockport. I grew up in a town similar to Brockport, so it sort of became a home away from home for me. I'm not sure what the town is like when all the college students go away, and frankly, I feel bad for the townspeople that have to deal with the majority of the student body that inhabits their town for roughly six months. 

The Pitch Perfect GIFs have begun, there's no stopping them now.

Pre-Registration week starts on November 4. This terrifies me, for two reasons.

REASON ONE + TWO: Redundancy.

In all seriousness though, I'm slowly coming to the realization that soon I will be leaving this little college town behind me and moving on to potentially better things. Like sitting in my home office behind a computer screen with writers block trying to finish the next great american novel and failing horribly. Or going to Chicago in a year or two for film school. Why Chicago you ask?

Pre-Registration means class registration. I need fifteen credits to graduate on time, and that means five classes at three credits each. I broke it down for those who aren't so good at the mathematics - no offense, or offense if you wanna fight. COME AT ME, BRO! 

I'll take you all on.

It's looking like I'm going to do three English courses, and two Film Studies courses. Children's Lit, Modern Myth, and Advanced Fiction Workshop for the former, Ecocinema and Film History part 2 for the latter. I believe, that actually works out to be like, four classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays with one class Mondays (M), Wednesdays (W), and Fridays (F). While five classes on Tuesdays (T) and Thursdays (R) would have been quite extreme, it would also mean that every week I get from Thursday night to Tuesday morning off from classes, and that alone would make it well worth it. Granted the one MWF class, with it being at like one fifteen, is pretty light too, I don't have to wake up super early. I do have to get up for class that is at like nine thirty on TR, But at least it isn't an eight o'clock class, I swore never again, and I have succeeded. eight o'clock classes are my own personal Hell. If there is a Hell, it's eight o'clock classes.

More on the scheduling for my final semester as it comes up. Also, dear girl who talks to me about Pokemon before my Modern Logic class.

That is all. Blog over. Have a video.

A Brief History of My Life - Part One

A few years ago, my Sophomore year of college, I wrote a personal essay all in stream of consciousness that briefly gave the story of my life up to that point. I wasn't sure what really to do with this blog when I first got the idea to start it, what I wanted it to be, how I wanted it to go. And when I decided to just make it a look into my life, I figured at some point I would have to do a basic re-write of that essay that is so poorly written. Then I went and looked at that essay, and I realized that there was so much that I left out, and still the thing was rather long. The longest personal essay I have written, and I'm kind of embarrassed by it. It reads like crap. I cannot believe that just two years ago I didn't know how to properly form a sentence. I still have tense issues, and I make the occasional mistake, but God this was horrid.

In the spirit of this blog, and what it means to me, I have decided to do the re-write of this "old" essay in three parts. My early years, up through Middle School will be recapped here in part one. The second post will tackle High School, and the final part will be up to where I am at now, my senior year of college. I wouldn't expect the final part until this semester is over mid December. Part Two may be posted by either the end of the month or in early November before the launch of the Play Station 4. So, let's get this bitch started.

I began the original essay by diving into my self diagnosed depression, I've never been medically diagnosed as depressed. But from all my readings on depression, and the fact that I have tried to kill myself quite a few times when I was younger, I feel as though I can safely say I was depressed. Actually I don't think it's fair to say I was, depression isn't something you get over, it's more like something you learn to live with. I still hate getting out of bed most days, and the only way I'm able to do so most times is by writing, reading, or watching some sort of visual media. Classes also tend to motivate me to get out of bed, but on the weekends, it's one of the former three.

I grew up without my father really being in my life. I do plan on one day heading down to Florida to meet the family we left behind twenty years ago, but that's a story for another time. I'd like to say there was a definitive cause for the depression. I wish I could pin it on something, so that I know exactly why I hated myself, and still kind of do. There was not real, traumatic cause, I wasn't beaten or raped, I was however constantly made fun of.

I was never the cool kid, I never fit in with that crowd. I was short, overweight, and weak. Hell, I still am. So needless to say I took my studies more seriously than the average kid my age, even more than my close network of friends, which really, until about high school was four people, and even now it's somewhere around six.

I spent my pre-grade school years in a town called corning, with no real friends that I can remember. The only real thing I can remember was that I broke both my left wrist (for the first time) and my collar bone during my time there. That, and that I was attacked by some bees, that was fun. I broke my wrist when I was around five years old by falling off the top of a slide. And my collar bone was broken when some older kid ran into me while he was playing basketball, I blacked out after he hit me, and woke up either in the hospital or nurses office being taken care of. As you can probably guess, my bones weren't (and probably still aren't) very strong.

Somewhere along the line, before I started the first grade even, my mom met a guy who lived in a town called Clifton Springs, which is where I now currently reside when I'm not in Brockport for college. I don't recall for how many years we lived in the trailer park with him. I want to say it was three or four years, possibly even up through the fifth grade, but he was my first real father figure. He was your a typical male, or at least that's how I remembered him, he seems different now whenever I see him, but I remember him as a much more masculine man. But perhaps that was just my childhood naivete and the fact that I was not a very masculine boy and wasn't used to a man in my life whatsoever.

Eventually, stuff happened that I have no real recollection of, I want to say that he apparently didn't want the responsibility of taking care of a kid any more and we moved out. We moved into an apartment complex near the outskirts of the town and there we stayed until I went off to college. It was here at this apartment complex where I met the man who I consider to be the closest thing to a father figure I've ever had. He was one of our neighbors and one of the nicest persons (is that how you say it? God, how do I still not know how to speak English perfectly) I've ever met.

I love and respect him to death, and whether or not he reads this I want it to be said. I'm not the best with starting conversations with people, or keeping in touch with them, the way I was treated in school by my peers has made me a socially awkward mess, incapable of starting a serious conversation with anyone. I am quite capable of doing the small talk thing, with anyone, but if anything "real" needs to be discussed,

Anyway, he has been planning a move out of state with his daughter and his fiancé for quite some time now. I just want it to be said, in hopes that he will read this some day, that he's been like a father to me. And despite the fact that I haven't seen him in forever, something like two years now, I will miss the shit out of him. Maybe some day, I'll learn how to talk to people, I'll get his address and go visit him.

So back to the school stuff. Honestly, I don't recall the bullying every getting physical aside from a few times. There was never a black eye, busted lip, or bloody nose. But definitely people would assert their obvious physical dominance over me. In other words, it was more verbal bullying. It made me hate myself, the way I looked, how tall I was, how smart I was, practically everything about myself, and once you hate yourself, you never won't. The thing is, I know I'm over weight (slightly mind you, about 15 pounds), and I hate that, but I have no ambition, literally no ambition to do something about it. I'm not sure why exactly I don't have the ambition, I believe it stems from the idea that I just really don't care anymore. But anyways, back to my youth.

The depression, or whatever it was, if you don't want to take my word for it, led me to have a short temper, that I have since groomed into a slightly larger temper. But that short fuse I used to have caused me to break my hand on another kids face in what I recall to be the seventh grade. Now I realize that I've skipped breaking my wrist for the second time in the fourth grade and shattering my elbow between fifth and sixth grade. Yep, I fell on a cement block located in the playground behind the apartment complex. My elbow looked something like this, after just a few minutes, the funny thing is that one of my neighbors said to just put ice on it.

That's a nice purse. I ended up needing surgery, and now I have a sexy scar. Okay, it's not that sexy, but it is a scar, so that's a plus.

So, that's the scar there, on my elbow. And yes ladies, that's my room. That X there on my forearm is part of my "xXx" tattoo referring to my straightedge lifestyle. I have more tattoo's, but those will be discussed in the coming parts. Back to me breaking my hand on another kids face. Yeah, that happened.

He took my glasses off, and threw them across the cafeteria. So in a blind rage I punched him, a lot, a broke my hand. Hurting me a lot more than I hurt him. And that was basically the only "fight" I was in. Wait no, there was this other time where one of my friends hit me with his backpack, and then I knocked him down and knee'd him while he was down a few times. But to be fair, I asked the back-pack attack. I keep getting ahead of myself, that one was in high school. 

Nothing more really happened in my middle school years, aside from getting my cat Smokey, and starting to fall out of a few strong friendships. A few of my friends got into drugs, nothing serious, just alcohol and marijuana. You know the drug that should be legal because it does less harm to your body than cigarettes, and certain strings of the plant can actually do more help than harm. That's neither here nor there, but it's funny when you think about it a straight edge pro the legalization of pot. Personally I still won't smoke it, but not only would it stimulate the economy, it'd make a lot of people more mellow and happy, or maybe a bit paranoid.

I still keep in touch with the majority of them, though one appears to have fallen off the face of the Earth. To back track once again so I can say where my love for movies came from. My mom used to work at a local video store in Clifton (actually it was in Phelps, which is right next to Clifton), and she would often take me to work with her. Now you know where the cinephile in me was born. She worked there until a few years into middle school if I remember correctly, after which the place went out of business and she took up a job at the Big M in Clifton, which is currently in the process of going out of business. Moral of the story, my mom runs places out of business.

That's about all I can tell you about those years. So here's a video to tie you over for a few days. Tomorrow night I'm watching Prisoners, because it is actually the midnight movie, I've already purchased my ticket, so there's no backing out now.