This thing's still around?

“In the infinity of this universe, a spectrum of feelings, emotions and philosophies exists within each sentient being.  Each of these feelings and emotions emit energies, energies that, when found in abundance, can be focused and made tangible.  The emotions of trillions, once concentrated, create a spectrum of light with each emotion and feeling claiming its own color: Red, Yellow, Blue, Purple, Green and so on.  Over billions of years and trillions of trillions of life forms, elements of each Color gained sentient thought.  Beings of concentrated fear, hate, pain, lust, justice and willpower battled across galaxies to a stalemate, no Color gaining dominance over the other.  However, earlier this evening on this planet, a great balance was tipped and a great Crisis has erupted.  The Yellow embodiment of Fear, an ancient and evil being known as Parallax, has defeated the Earthman Hal Jordan, the chosen champion of the Green, the representation of Willpower and thus Fearlessness.  Parallax has possessed Jordan, twisted his mind and used him to destroy the army of the Green.  A force once numbering 3,700 has now been eliminated, all but one.  All but you, Glenn-Ray ‘Geeche’ Wilgus.  Take this ring, the greatest weapon in the universe, which is the tool we use to channel our willpower. Use it to shine our light to the darkest corners of the universe.  Use this weapon to protect the innocent, to combat those who worship evil’s might, and use it to overcome great fear.  You are the last hope for the universe.  You are the last Green Lantern.”

The light shimmering off his dark and desperate eyes, Ganthet stretched his tiny blue hand toward his last hope.

“Take it quickly, torch bearer.  Parallax approaches and my time is short!  The universe lies with you!”

Glenn-Ray simply stood, slightly swaying from side to side.  “Gimme yer damn wallet!” he shouts, as he snatches the ring from the miniscule blue alien’s hand.

As Glenn-Ray stumbles into a pile of trash, Ganthet scrambles to retrieve the ring but the man’s 300lb-plus frame proved immovable.

“No!  No, this can’t be!  Why have the fates chosen this man?  As foretold in the Book of Oa, the earthman and artist, the torch bearer and herald of Ion would be found here, in the alley behind Katey’s bar in San Francisco!”

“This is Pauley’s Pub in Wilford, Alabama, asshole!” a voice from across the alley shouts.  “Yeah, go back to San Fran-Sissy, jerk!” follows another.

“Damn this backward planet and this infernal ‘Map-Quest’ device!”  The night sky flashes a bright yellow and a roar louder than the loudest thunder rips the wind.  “It’s too late!  Good luck, Earth!”  As Ganthet summons his last ounces of strength to take flight, he murmurs, “You’ll need it.”

Ganthet’s ascent begins slowly, the green glow surrounding his deep blue skin grows gradually brighter.  “Parallax,” he says, taking an offensive stance miles above the earth, his light shining like a green sun.

A roar of thunder sounds again as a yellow figure rises over the horizon.  The skies of Alabama were ablaze in green and yellow as these two beings, ancient and powerful, face off for the final time.

“GUARDIAN!” Parallax roars as it barrels towards Ganthet, the last Guardian of the Universe.

They collide and the entirety of earth’s sky is illuminated.  Their collision causes the earth to tremble violently, buildings collapse and windows shatter for miles.  Their battle rages higher and higher into the night sky, they go further, their light grows dimmer and the noise of their war grows softer.  Eventually they dissolve into the blackness of pace.

Hours later, Glenn-Ray pulls himself up slowly from the piles of peanut shells, half-eaten chicken wings and empty beer bottles that is a bar’s garbage heap and half-heartedly tries to brush himself off.  He looks down and realizes he’s been lying on top of an upright bottle of Heineken and concludes that’s why his chest hurts so badly.  He stumbles through the alley, the soft light of the coming sunrise guiding his way back home.

It’s 4 pm when his mother, still in her nightgown, violently shakes Glenn-Ray awake.

“Wake up you lazy prick!  Help your momma clean up this mess!”

“Jeez, ma!” Glenn moans as he pulls his pillow over his head. “Sleep!  Now, sleep!  Work… no!  Sleep… yes!”  With that he felt the stiff heel of his own boot collide first with the small of his back, then with his temple as his mother attacked.  “Gahhh dammit ok!  What’s the big freakin deal!”  Glenn opened his eyes and saw the big deal.  The windows of their small trailer were busted, everything strewn across the floor… and suddenly he saw one of the most frightening sights he’d ever seen.  His beloved was no more… broken and twisted, lying at the foot of the couch in a heap of its own remains.  “My TV!  No!  No!  Please god no!”

“Wait, you mean to tell me you were out all night, you came walking home all by yourself and you didn’t notice anything?  Son, the elementary school down the road burnt down last night.  The Phelps’ car flipped over, a plane crashed a town over, power lines are down all over the place and damn-near every winda’ in the county is broken.  Can’t call nobody, can’t drive nowhere, can’t watch no tv or even get the radio.”
”Damn terrorists sons of bitches!” Glenn curses as he looks at his shattered beloved.  His fist clenched tightly and his emotions flared, and a green light began to fill the room.  “As god as my witness, Salama Ben Malden’s gonna pay.”

Disney’s “Cars” and the extinction of the human race

First up, an update on life.  It’s… going.  I wrecked my car – badly – the Friday before Halloween and I’ve been driving my step brother’s car since.  It’s really cool of him to let me do it and I appreciate it tremendously, but man it’s one dangerous piece of crap.  Once you get past the fact that it’s pink and stinks of gasoline, it has legendary shitty gas mileage, it’s so tiny I have to bend my neck down to look out the windows, it looks like a slapstick comedy act every time I have to get in and out of it and it had expired tags, no registration or insurance (something I learned when I got pulled over… and got 3 tickets…), the windows are so stained that you can barely see out the windows (because he smokes in it), the gas petal decides to stick to the floor at random times, causing me to lose control and almost die on the interstate… once you get past all that, it’s not a bad car, really.

Work sucks.  My hours were cut when they hired a new girl who apparently has brain damage or suffers from some kind of mild retardation.  She stands there with this goofy look on her face and does nothing, then goes and sits down and does nothing.  She cleans and puts up movies, but she does nothing, and I mean NOTHING else.  When you have a line, it’s a chore to keep her at her register.  Once I had a line of about 5 customers and she was like, “I’m going to go smoke” and left me.  I need a new job because I simply can’t afford anything anymore and this one is driving me insane.  I think next semester I’m going to get a second job and work at Movie Gallery like one day a week.

Speaking of school, my school schedule is made, and I love it.  An online course and a COMIC BOOKS AS LITERATURE CLASS, BITCHES!  That’s… wow, the absolute perfect class for me and it has me so excited for next semester.  Plus it’ll finally justify spending hundreds of dollars on comic “text” books.  *rubs hands together menacingly*

And also there’s Tara.  Tara is beautiful.  Tara is sweet.  Tara is smart, funny, FUN and sexy as hell.  She’s the light of my life, that’s for damn sure, and quite possibly the best thing to ever, and I mean EVER, happen to me.  I love her so much I just want to shout it to everyone all the time.  She makes me excited to wake up in the morning… er, afternoon.  She’s amazing.  No, astonishing.  No, spectacular.  No!  Amazispectastonishing!  I’ve never felt like this with anyone, and wow is it freakin’ great.  I always kinda thought love was overrated… nah, if anything it’s underrated.

I’ve discovered the meaning of life, and her name is Tara.

Now for something completely different.

Disney’s Cars.  I’m sure many of you have seen this movie, and it’s really quite great.  The animation is gorgeous and it’s entertaining as all hell, but while I was watching it I felt something… more… under the surface.  Something… darker.  Something… sinister.

While watching it, I noticed there were no humans in sight.  Not a one.  Yet the cars… had… doors…

Think about that for a second.

Disney’s Cars, while giving the appearance of a family friendly romp with a sweet moral, is actually a tale about a distant, horrible future ruled by robots.  I imagine somewhere in the middle of the 21^st century, much like the plot (or lack thereof) of the Matrix movies, mankind refined artificial intelligence to the point that it became actual intelligence.  Robot cars, originally programmed to drive and navigate on their own, began to think, began to reason, began to love… and began to hate.  Worked to the point of extreme exhaustion, corralled into arenas and forced to massacre each other in gladiatorial battles known as “demolition derbies,” painted and pimped, bought and sold, traded and used as slaves… the droid automobiles rose.

In a truly devastating war, the Cars fought with an intensity and speed never before seen by man.  The rugged tenacity of the Ford’s fought like hellcats, the kamikaze Mitsubishi’s struck fear in the hearts of American soldiers.  BMW’s rolled into Paris unopposed, Ferrari’s and Mini Coups took Venice and Vatican City.  One by one the great strongholds of man fell to the rolling thunder of the United Car Armies.

Humanity’s days were certainly numbered.

Car scientists, working day and night in secret labs under the Toyota plant in Kentucky, devised a virus.  A virus that would kill every man, woman and child, every cow deer and bear, every insect… every animal, everything that lives and breathes that is not a machine.

And so it came to pass.  Humanity fell, and the Cars rose.

And that’s the true story behind Disney’s Cars.

A rare bit of creativity...

So usually while school is in session, the creativity tends to slow down.  School is time consuming, and it takes your free will away at gunpoint.  Thinking about anything but school is prohibited... at least it is to me... and I'm always so burnt out I can't hope to do any type of writing or reading just for fun.
Blah.
I just typed up this short story.  Unlike most stories I write, this one actually DOESN'T have many (if any) parallels to my personal life at the moment.  Though I do know how the main character feels.  Enjoy!

I see him all the time.  When he’s not on tv, he’s in the paper – and he’s not just in the paper, he’s always right there on the front page.  He’s always around.  While I walk to work, I see him on magazine covers and billboards and t-shirts.  When I first wake up, they’re talking about him on the radio or playing highlights from his latest brawl on the news.  He’s always there, staring back at me.  His arrogant smile and those piercing eyes cause all the ladies to swoon right past me; sometimes they actually shove me aside to see the guy.  His bright tights, an obvious cry for attention, his massive biceps probably overcompensating for something not-so-massive…

What does that guy have that I don’t have?  In terms of looks, I’m easily as good looking as that guy.  I’m a journalist, darn it!  I deliver the truth to the people and arm them with knowledge that can change this world for the better!  I’m smart and stable and loving… so what’s wrong with me?  And what’s RIGHT with him?

Oh, that’s right.  It’s the super powers thing.  Has to be.  It sure can’t be the, “nice guy” routine, the part where he gets kittens out of trees for little old ladies, because in my 25-ish years on this planet I’ve learned time and again the good girls go for the bad guys.  Nah, it’s his ability to toss a skyscraper into the sun that causes all the ladies to go weak in the knees.  That and the way his butt looks in his bright underoos.

There’s this one girl, a coworker of mine, who I’ve been trying to get to notice me since I first laid eyes on her – and usually attention from other people is something I try to avoid.

She’s smart.  Brilliant.  An award winning writer and someone I couldn’t hope to keep up with in any conversation that doesn’t involve farm equipment.  She’s quick witted, hilariously funny and so, so blatantly headstrong.  She’s gorgeous and confident; I’ve never met a woman as strong as her, a woman who knows what she wants so completely and absolutely.

And, unfortunately, I know what she wants as well.  And it’s him.  Mr. Big Shot with his little cape and booties and, “hey ladies, I can bench press a Buick and I have a mansion in the arctic.  Come with me as I save the world for you,” look.  While here I stand with the Coke-bottle glasses, unzipped fly and the faint-inducing, “excuse me ladies, I have a 10 square foot apartment on the East Side if you’d be interested in an evening of Uno and Bogart movies” look.

I try not to think about it much, but I can’t help it.  I see the way she looks at him and I can tell she’s in love, then I see the way she looks at me… and I realize she’s not looking at me at all, but at the water cooler behind me.

He’s Superman.  The schmuck.  Born on Krypton, sent to earth, fights crime with a cape.  You know the story.

My story?  Not as exciting.  Grew up in the Midwest, went overseas to study journalism, came to a big city and got a job as a reporter, but no one seemed to notice because Mr. Underwear-Goes-Outside-the-Pants came to town the same time I did.

I’m in love with a woman who’s in love with Superman, and that burns.  He has such an excessive advantage, such an overblown personality… I can’t compete with that.

Ah well.  My name’s Clark Kent, and like every other man in the universe, I’m jealous of Superman.  So what am I going to do about it?  Be myself, I suppose.  She’ll come around.  I hope.

The long-anticipated update on Dave’s life has arrived.

I am now working at the Movie Gallery at the Summit Plaza in Ashland/Canonsburg.  I work about 2 days a week and I get shitty pay and I hate it with an intense passion.  I like my coworkers, though.

I’m taking 18 hours at Marshall University this semester.  I go 5 days a week.

My classes include Corrections, Victims of Crime, general Criminal Justice, Math (with the single hottest teacher I’ve ever seen in my life), Science Fiction literature and… Japanese.

Yes, I’m taking Japanese and it is as hard as you’d imagine.  The teacher is a tiny, cute NAZI Japanese chick.  I swear she’d smack me with a ruler if she thought she’d get away with it.  She has a helper, who is also a tiny, cute (adorable, really) soft spoken Japanese girl but she, however, lacks her accomplices fascist tendencies.  She’s one of those quiet little things that just sits in the back of the room and giggles, then gets up to struggle with cute little presentations (she told us about summer in Japan Wednesday and it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen).

This is shaping up to be the hardest semester I’ve taken so far thanks in large part to Japanese.  Actually, with work at this new place and all this school, it looks like it’ll be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  So, so, so much reading and homework and so many presentations and speeches and projects and reports…

I’ve never actually studied before.  I mean, I’ve crammed for tests, but all my life I’ve just shown up for class, zoned out for an hour, skimmed the chapters the night before the test and passed.  Now I have to study and review and repeat everything… and it’s hard… and I don’t like it.

I took Japanese because I have a heavy interest in Japan, and because I hate Spanish.  I think learning a foreign language shouldn’t be a chore, and if I don’t WANT to learn it, I won’t learn it.  I don’t want to learn Spanish, even though it’s much more practical.  I want to learn Japanese, so maybe I’ll learn Japanese.

As part of my studies, I’ve decided to watch Japanese movies.  I have lots of old ones, but they’re in an older dialect… so watching them isn’t any help.  It’d be like learning English from Shakespearean play or maybe a Western movie…. And that’s not good.  So I need to watch modern movies.

I am now watching the Japanese movie Pulse, which was apparently recently re-made in the US (and I hear it’s shitty).

I have NEVER been so creeped out and actually scared by a movie in my life.  I think if I paid closer attention I may not be as freaked out, but I’ll watch parts and all the little hairs on my body will stand up and I’ll start looking around the room for ghosts and shit.  I’ve never gotten goosebumps so often in my life.  I’ve nearly turned it off a few times out of actual terror.