Internal vs. External Pressure (or, Why I'm Unemployed)

I'm not talking about gastro-intestinal bloating, pregnancy or having rocks put on you until your eyeballs propel from your skull with enough speed to decapitate local farmers and horses. When I speak of "pressure," I refer to the stress upon you from those around you. Be it your workplace, scholastic environment, parental desires, deadlines, etc., most tasks, to me, become more difficult when there's an outside source grilling you to complete it.
It's for this reason that I would prefer all of my deadlines and requirements to be self-imposed.

If I'm getting some shit done, I'll do it at my own pace, god damn it. That was hostile. Well, it needs to be. I'm only a procrastinator in the face of necessity; there is a rebellious spirit here that exists solely in order to make an authoritative counterpart frustrated. Subsequently, if I'm given room in which to stretch my arms, work at my own pace and complete things in an order that makes sense to me, I find that any work is not only easier, but much more enjoyable.
One of the beneficial things about making videos for a channel you own is that any schedules you've created are just that; created. By you. I can defy this weekly format any time I see fit, possibly even revert back to my routine of "I'll upload a video when I'm good and damn ready. Apparently, I'm ready to upload five today and none for three months and you'll like it. Forever. Until the end of time. Which ends when I say it does, also." Thankfully for everyone, I've found a rate of production that challenges my creativity without putting too much strain on my fragile and useless cranium.
In addition, I'm currently afforded opportunities that allow me to work this creativity whenever it strikes. I woke up at three in the morning with an idea not too long ago, and once I was finished stroking it lovingly--the idea, not whatever you're thinking of, you sick fuck--I put it to work for me. Like a hooker. I guess my point is that when you're free to do as you please, you treat your ideas like hookers.

Wait, that's not right.

Individuals who work a job they dislike in order to provide for their futures or assume some level of status are doing something that I've never been comfortable with. It may be a deficiency, and I wouldn't be surprised if there's some shitty section of my head that constantly waves its dick around instead of doing what I've been imagining it to since my conception. However, in the absence of rigidity imposed by those who expect you to follow direction and nothing else, it's possible to get just as much, if not more, work done in the same amount of time one may be committing to something less mentally fruitful. The difficult part is carrying that forward upon an avenue that's lucrative. Needless to say, I haven't given up on that yet.

I commend those who work boring or awful jobs that they hate, just to support their ideals wholly; I'll probably have to bite that bullet some day. The part I'm excited for is when I shit that bullet out, because I'll load it into my nostril and blow it onto whatever canvas I choose to adopt. Then I'll sell the lead back for twice what I made swallowing it.
Not to mention, that metaphor involved actual shit. That was a life goal of mine. See? Sometimes it's easy.

Moral of the story: do your own work, for you, and you'll feel better about doing it.

Django Unchained + The Possession

I mentioned in the past how wondrous it is for a film to summarize all of my aspirations as a viewer; the culmination of events that, in complimenting each other, create a wholly phenomenal experience.

The Possession is one of such films. Django is another.

Lately I've become picky in my deeming a film even "great," hence when I call one more than that, you can bank on my endorsement. Any fans of demon, ghost or possession-themed horror should write this down on their list of To-Watch, preferably somewhere around the top, in order to ensure that you'll be able to view it as many times as humanly possible before rolling over and promptly allowing yourself to die happy.

Denny from Grey's Anatomy is a thoughtful father/basketball coach whose daughter makes the obvious mistake of going to a garage sale without properly researching her ancient Hebrew demon curses (first of all, who the hell doesn't visit an everything-must-go without doing that first...plot holes) and happens across a box that wastes no time in teaching everyone a lesson about how pertinent it is to pay attention in your high school World Religions class. Denny spends the rest of the film trying to undo his bad-dad mistake(s).
Don't interpret this paragraph to be an accurate plot synopsis, I assure you it's anything but.

I'm not even going to bother detailing the plot of Django, because it cannot be explained in less than three full-length novels, and I wouldn't bother trying to do so even if I wanted to.

There's no way to adequately describe The Possession's experience until one sees it for oneself, so I'll instead declare that it combines all of its acts into an ending that couldn't possibly make more sense. There are no loose ends, and if one goes into the film with a mind open to its subject matter, they will not be disappointed.
Demonology is something that remains elusive of my desire to research, so I'll admit my ignorance to the subject. However, one does not need to be versed in these things to enjoy the movie fully since it is one of few that properly explains everything that needs to be explained. The atmosphere created within it is perfect for its style, and you may find yourself enthralled.

Django is a classic Western hero tale told with a very unique slant that adds a refreshing element to a historically stale genre, spun by one of my favourite directors, ever. It would be a lie to say Quentin Tarantino can do no wrong, however it seems to be very difficult for him. The story is well-paced and its ups and downs are great in their intensity. The film provides you with hopelessness and pride on a scale that could race earthquakes.

I had, in the weeks before, been privy to many accidents turned into "films" via avenues that included poorly-fathomed Netflix decisions and suggestions from those who had heard that I sometimes watch stupid bullshit. Perhaps, then, these two movies were made better by comparison, but I doubt it, because either one of them    could stand on its own, even if it had no legs and one eye. As a matter of fact, watching these two movies back to back is encouraged, because they pretty much run the gamut of genres that don't involve giants, robots, or giant robots, or giant robot penises that rotate and pulsate like a shower head from the bowels of the Earth.

To reiterate, as a famous filmmaker (me, in my dreams) once said: God be damned, these two movies are beautiful.

If you enjoy Leonardo DiCaprio (as I'm sure you've heard by now) completely annihilating his hand on a glass, then rolling with that punch as if it were dealt by an Asian midget; Jamie Foxx playing "a black man" as no one has before, with enough pride, gusto, and anguish for eighteen of us; That happy Nazi from Inglorious Basterds with an equally pleasant demeanour and an impregnable beard of excellence; Quentin Tarantino being classic as ever in the chair of director, as well as on screen in actor form, you had better make time out of your busy schedule and catch Django Unchained. Pff, as if you haven't,

Before you get up, and while you're at it, check out The Possession because, may lightning strike my dick and cause it to explode upward into my own mouth if I'm wrong, it's just as good for about three handfuls of different reasons.

Windows 8 Is Like A Dog With Two Legs

There are many videos floating around the internet world that depict canines with such pedal shortcomings. Anyone who has viewed these images knows that most of these dogs, with some extra training and attention, become just as good as their four-legged counterparts.

In this scenario, the mutt with the full range of mobility is Windows 7. Its unfortunate playmate is Windows 8, and the two missing legs come in the form of a proper Start menu.

I won't lie, I'm not a huge proponent of drastic change. I've read many a blog in my efforts to reattach those two legs to my new operating system ('how to get the old start menu back' searches deliver fruitless third-party abominations and dangers) and in these informative posts are - as always - someone's opinion about whether or not the change is good. 

Often, this viewpoint comes from the fingers of an ass hole who insults the intelligence of anyone who doesn't like the Windows 8 'Start Screen' better. However, I must be a full-fledged idiot, then, because I hate the Xbox Live home screen and I certainly don't want to adopt it on my computer. I'll drown that orphan.

For those who don't own an Xbox or a copy of the new OS, I'll explain: The screen is opened, innocently and delicately enough, from the same corner as your current Windows logo. It spreads its loving wings, soars up over your desktop, and promptly takes the biggest shit you'll ever see, in the form of every single program you've ever had installed, all over your eyes, nose, mouth, ears, etc. in the form of an "App." Your programs are listed by category and you can choose from them.

Note: I'd also like to suggest to those who don't have either of the aforementioned pieces of technology that they invest in a time machine and travel to this fucking century.

I would assume this new layout is for accessibility, but that can't be correct. If you're building a wheelchair ramp, it's a small incline that starts in the parking lot and daintily raises itself to the level of the curb.

It doesn't start at the second floor window of the supermarket and jut out into the street, blocking three lanes of traffic and creating a huge, vindictive cement wall between you and the enjoyment of whatever you'd like to do with your life.

I understand the need for innovation. You don't want what you're selling to appear stale in the eyes of the consumer. However, if you're going to alienate decades of loyal patrons in an effort to show off how nicely your App screen sweeps to the left, at least make the Start Screen optional, instead of stuffing it down my throat for making the mistake of opening my mouth in excitement. 

Barring that, maybe make it a little bit easier to navigate. There are more of us out here that want the old Programs list back, that freely customizable and wonderful piece of design. I've actually deleted all my Apps and, since that doesn't delete the programs, now have a system of clutter---I mean, folders, on my desktop in order to navigate my shit the way I've always loved to do. That's what I had to do in order to be happy. I'm not alone in this plight.

Windows 8 is the runt of the litter that was born without front appendages due to a lack of room and oxygen in a womb populated by good ideas. With a little work, you can get it to stand up straight, run, probably even fetch toys. However, even with such breakthroughs, everyone who sees it is going to wonder how cute it could be, if only it had all of its fucking legs.

Windows 7 is the older sibling that shits in its mouth just to assert its dominance over the weaker genus.

"Sinister" is an All-Around Enjoyable Experience

This post may contain what some would consider to be "spoilers." If you don't like it, suck it. Suck it hard. But don't spoil it. 'Cause then sucking it would have spoilers which defeats the original purpose of sucking it.
You know what I mean.

It has been a while since I've watched a standalone horror film (as in, not part of a greater series) that I've been adequately satisfied with. Often a good premise will be squandered with poor pacing or a terrible ending, cliffhangers with no guarantee of salvation. Typically if a person can see a movie and immediately fathom a couple of better ways to wrap it up, or even a more effective method of overall execution, there has been some mistake made in the process of its creation.
Sometimes you get the feeling that a filmmaker has held back a possible outcome for fear of squandering their creation in the process; perhaps if some directors were bolder, or more willing to take risks that would jeopardize their operation, in the interest of a greater result, more films could be touted as pushing the boundaries of a genre. This is especially true of horror; many times I have encountered movies that could have been better if the creators hadn't erred on the side of caution quite so much.

Sinister, Ethan Hawke's latest good decision, took a chance, and pleased me thoroughly in the process. The loose synopsis is as follows: a defunct true crime writer moves himself and his loved ones into a house that was once the home of a family who was (all but one missing child) killed by an unknown person. He finds a series of films depicting the murders, discovering connections between them and planning a book around the results. Mystery and horror ensues within his family, as well as on the property itself.
Of course one can see the immediate danger associated with moving your wife and children into an abode where a family-targeting killer once chose victims, and there are many ways for the head of the household to react to that.
Many times, in classic "Paranormal Activity" fashion, the family decides to stick it out through the trauma and turmoil in the interest of preserving the unit, only to find out that their decision was a poor and ultimately irreparable one. People start dying, children are put in danger, maybe father goes insane. The nice thing about Sinister is that there is a hint of most of these elements, a satiating amount, but the characters don't plummet so far into a delusional perseverance that they don't notice their own lives crumbling in the face of the madness and exercise their ability to eject from a terrible situation.
There are many things in this vein that Sinister does right that other movies tend to overdo. When it comes to the horror genre, less tends to be more; you can imply a gruesome act without depicting it in its entirety. Many of the people murdered in the film are obviously dead, and yet one isn't forced to sit through the entire ordeal in stereo sound as some sort of cheap reach for a shock factor. This, to me, is more effective than a more direct method of conveyance. The mind is left to fill in the blanks of the footage which, depending on the creativity of your imagination, can be very colourful.
I've also noticed an increase in the ever-present "jump-scare" type of attempt to induce a fearful response from viewers. Sinister does employ this tactic, however it's achieved in a way that's much more tasteful than most movies. Whereas sometimes it's as if a caveman put a scene together, everything here is still very surprising, even if you're expecting the events to transpire.

The ending, without giving it away, is very unexpected, although it does fit the mood of the film. It is, to me, the most viable way to end a story of this kind; everything is nicely wrapped up and you're not left guessing many outcomes, if any at all. The creators of Sinister tried many new things and executed them successfully, while still managing to maintain a familiar mystery horror feel. Overall, I'm very satisfied., annd it gives me hope for titles to come.

Also, Ethan Hawke is an acting giant, not to mention a sex GOD.

Not that I'd know.

Horror Genre's Ups and Downs

Last month (if I'm correct, far too lazy to check), I posted an article detailing my interests in the horror movies being produced this year. Emerging not only partially disappointed by the titles mentioned (if you want motivation to remove your own eyeballs, go ahead and throw on Wrong Turn 5 one afternoon) but disenfranchised and unenthusiastic about what I've yet to see, I couldn't help but turn my gaze toward the plethora of films riding the coattails, or better put, playing the market created by such popular genre flicks appearing lately.

Oren Peli, director of just about everything I've liked wholly in the past half-decade (that's a blatant exaggeration, so don't call me on it) continues to do things that bring a mild elevation to the sides of my talk-hole. Unfortunately, in a great display of universal balance, the world must continue to preserve my apathetic frown by showing me things that, to a certain extent, drain the faith I had in the film industry.

I haven't been pleased with any alien-related films since The Fourth Kind and, on a lower level, Super 8. Being a proprietor of cranial fantasy and great hopes/dreams in favour of hostile galactic exploration (in other words, visitations from monsters from beyond my long-armed reaches), imagine my excitement when hearing about Dark Skies, an alien abduction story slated for February. Upon viewing the trailer, however, I was alerted to the definite and probably discouraging idea that we'll all bear witness to the return of what I call the "neighbourhood misunderstanding" concept. Often in films, in order to add another layer of story to an already fairly-yet-not-quite-complex-enough arc, many directors will introduce the difficulty of explaining a supernatural situation to a close-knit or friendly group of neighbours. There are only a few destinations on this avenue, the most common sometimes involving a police report filed by a nosy carpool mom, or in this case, a hospital visit that rapidly turns into evidence of domestic violence. I have little patience for characters who refuse to take the time to study the circumstances more closely in order to make a more informed and fair decision, and I believe this is what we'll be seeing here.

In other news, V/H/S was half-good and half-bad upon retrospect (though I think I mentioned that already), and I'm beginning to give independent and low-budget films less and less benefit of the doubt as time wears steadily forward to my demise. I'm growing tired of attempting to convince my cohorts to ignore the poorly post-produced blood splatters and stock screaming, in favour of immersion and suspension of disbelief. In the back of my brain, that nagging feeling of accidental farce continues to haunt me. That's scarier than the ghosts.