PAIN

I broke my goddamn kneecap.

Wednesday night I was moving up the stairs in my house.  My right foot went down on the step, but as I moved to motion for the next step, my right foot slipped out from under me, and I went straight down on my right knee, connecting hard and directly with the edge of the step.  It made quite the noise (I think it was mostly the stairs), and the pain was immediate and immense.

To my absolute joy, I was informed that I have a minor fracture by the doctor at the walk-in clinic (which I joyfully spent three hours at yesterday morning).  I'm now nursing a limp and a bulky brace on my knee.

Thankfully, though, it's been feeling a lot better today.  I can stand on it, I can transfer weight onto it, I can use the stairs (though slowly), and today I was on my feet outside with friends for a little while and the only negative result from that was my leg getting ridiculously sweaty with the brace on.

This would happen the day after I legitimately go to the gym, and only days before my birthday.

You are my sunshine

A Happy Mother's Day to my mom.  I love you momma!

It's sad that this is literally the best picture I have of me and my mom in the same frame: her eyes are half closed and me, that's when I was forbidden to cut my hair for the school play AND I thought it was a good idea to dye it black.  Three years ago I was a damn fool.  Oh, and my dad and sister are both the Joker.  Oh, and the little girl from the Royal Wedding was there, too.

(a PS: my mom always used to sing You Are My Sunshine to me when I was a kid)

Overhaul

It's May!  You know what that means?  Gaga's ass!  (to which my mother shrieked "TAKE THAT DOWN!" and my best response was "MOM SHE WAS BORN THAT WAY" and I think it did the trick because I'm still going to bed every night beside that ass)

In all seriousness, now that it's May, I've made a number of "revelations" about my life.  (revelations is a steep word, but you get the idea) Taking heed of the new month as a springboard to my hopeful changes for the summer, I've decided that this month I'll start making a difference in my own life, whether it be returning to old habits or starting new ones.

The biggest change happening in May - and the only one independent of choice - is the fact that I'm turning 20.  I'll be halfway to 40!  I really doubt turning 20 will bring about any staggering maturity or difference in my life, but who knows what no longer being a teenager will bring me.  Stay tuned.

In a physical aspect: I'm joining a gym.  Lolwut?  IKR! gtfolmao

But, it's true.  By the looks of it I'll be signing up with a friend which is perfect because it's the type of motivation I actually need to keep up with it.  It's been something I've been meaning to do for a while (the classic excuse), and now that it's coming to fruition I'm eager and nervous.  Aside from that I dug up my old failed Lent home workout routine, except this time I'm not using my treadmill but rather the ancient stationary bike we have.  I've always loathed running so I'm sure that's what killed my attempt earlier this year; at least this way I know I have enough endurance to do it, and plus, it doesn't hurt that when I'm sitting on the bike I play Brickbreaker or Pokemon on my Blackberry.  Passes the time, I say!

In a creative aspect: I've decided to get back to something I enjoy greatly: that is, having a creative process.  Much like summers past, I've decided again to write a full-fledged story, but already I've noticed that whenever I've had the writing itch I produce nothing.  (when I say the "writing itch" I mean that sometimes I'm just sitting around and I'm nearly exploding with the want to just write, so I relocate to somewhere solitary in my house with a blank word document and then just stare at it until I go get something to eat and forget about the itch altogether)

Another related feat I've thought about attempting is to write a screenplay given that it's in my blood to become a director; I have nothing to show for it yet, though.  A screenplay seems almost fifty times as hard as writing just a story, but it's something I want to learn and at least try.

Finally - and I'm sure I'd end up doing this anyways even if I didn't affirm it here - I'll return to painting this summer.  Much like my writing conundrum, it takes quite a while before I progress past staring at a blank slate before me, but I've at least yielded success in the past and I'm sure I'll be successful again.

In a blogger aspect - and I'm sure you may or may not have realized by now: I've redesigned my blog.  Nothing astounding, nothing groundbreaking, but I grew tired of looking at the old and drab.  (not that this is any more colourful)  Hopefully it's sexier.

Who knows.  Maybe at the end of the summer I'll be some ripped Quentin Tarantino with painted masterpieces even da Vinci would give a thumbs up to.

The tribe has spoken

Today marks the first time that I'll be old enough to vote in a federal election.  It's a strange feeling, but it mostly makes me feel like an elderly person, and it doesn't help that I'll be half way to forty in sixteen days.

I don't have much to say about the election; my purpose is not to open up some sort of politics argument with myself.  I've made my mind up as to who I'll be voting for.  I, for the most part, agree with that party's platform, and I feel comfortable with my decision.

I've learned two valuable things about my right to vote.  The first is, never feel insignificant.  For a fraction of a second, I doubted myself, thinking to myself that my one vote won't change anything.  While, in truth, that will probably be the case unless there's a tie and government officials come to my home and say Matt, we need you to cast the deciding vote, the biggest thing I kept in mind is that to be able to vote is a responsibility entrusted on me and a privilege to remind myself that I live under a democracy where the people's opinion matters.  (mostly)

The second: I was advised not to vote personally.  Honestly, I don't care for any of the candidates for Prime Minister; they all creep me out in varying degrees.  Even still, I'm not casting my vote on behalf of who I hate least - in fact, I strongly dislike the person I will be voting for.  I've been taught to separate person from party in efforts for a better government.

But then again, I'll do what I do best when I become a hypocrite when I say there's just no way I'm voting for Stephen Harper.

Rest in pieces

I enjoy horror movies to some extent.  As we all may know, I'm a coward, no doubt a result of watching too many episodes of Criminal Minds.  With that in mind, I enjoy horror movies that cross the line of unbelievability - I don't cower at something like a burnt monster with blade fingers who haunts your dreams, nor do I fear a hulking man in a hockey mask breaking down my door with a machete, simply because it'll never happen.  That doesn't completely exempt realistic horror movies, either, since things like Scream doesn't bother me, and I can't think of something more "realistic" than a (physically beatable) psychopath running around in a mask with a knife.  The things that do bother me, though, are things like the Exorcist or things dealing with the paranormal: okay, sure, not possible in real life, but they maintain a level of believability which gives me the chills.

You can't have a good scary movie without gore.  Beyond horror films, gory violence is a largely prevalent factor in action movies - I would know, my favourite movie ever is Kill Bill.  Why, then, is gore necessary?

(On a similar point, though partially a digression: crime shows.  Flip on the television at 8pm and you're either watching Glee, a reality show, or, more likely, a crime drama.  Why is it that everyone is obsessed with watching television shows with realistic crimes, bloated and bloody bodies, and cop shoot-outs?  Who knows.  Maybe it's gratifying to witness justice in a world sometimes devoid of some - who knows)

It's distressing to think of the general audience as obsessed with bloody violence and gory deaths onscreen, but it's undeniable.  Horror movies attempt to outdo each other by creating unrealistic, over-the-top gory ends to their characters - I think of, for example, Final Destination, a series based completely around the idea of disgusting death, or perhaps the Saw franchise, once great (and I use the term "great" liberally given that the first was marginally good and shocking but the rest are just freaking ridiculous) but now nothing more than "torture porn."  Don't get me started on the Saw movies.  (I'm gonna go off anyways.  I really can't believe the studio churned out sequel after sequel with more elaborate and disgusting deaths.  Even if you're a fan, it's chilling to think of the creative process: "guys, I know!  Let's throw a girl into a pit of needles!" "No, no, let's put a guy on a cross device that twists every segment of his body in a different direction!" "Excellent idea!  You're promoted."  That's disgusting)

I fail to come up with an answer as to why people are obsessed with violence and death.  I could argue that it comes down to everyone's obsession in the extreme: nobody wants to see a tame action movie, for example, they all want to see an entire city blown up by robots while a brainless female runs out of the explosion in slow motion.  Nobody wants to see a person in a horror movie have a heart palpitation out of fear (goddamn it, I would if Ghostface was after me), they want to see a prolonged chase sequence where the female victim just barely gets away before the killer reappears and drives a knife into her stomach or fake rack.  I suppose, then, a society already consumed in the extreme, a natural extension of said consumption is to want to see it onscreen.

Perhaps, though, a better reason for the obsession with bloody death, is the idea of indulgence.  I'm a firm believer that everyone is capable of the most unspeakable evils possible; it just comes down to heart, and whether or not a person acts on it.  I could very possibly kill someone, it sickens me to think, but I could.  (Let's please not take that the wrong way, I'm kidding)  Everything is possible.  In that sense, then, perhaps watching bloody offings onscreen is indulgence on behalf of the audience's "dark side."

I'm truly unsure as to why audiences are obsessed with this, though.  Maybe it's just for the thrill of watching something so horrifying; maybe it's for an unconscious reaffirmation of security, knowing that, in your moderately comfortable theater seat, you're safe from the crazed killer and that would never happen to you in your life.  I don't have an answer, it's merely speculation.

I am, though, sitting in eager anticipation for Scream 5.