ideas

Halloween Versus Christmas–The Terrifying Truth…[Insert Scream Here]

Can we get a picture of Jack Skellington and Santa Claus duking it out under a mistletoe? Never mind, forget the mistletoe–no one can look at that and think violence–and instead go skull crazy. I am talking six foot skeletons holding giant Grim Reaper scythes…and those creepy cow skulls you see in almost every Western horror movie; it is as if the director is whispering “Beware the cows…” into the set designer’s headset.

But to talk about the picture: give Santa some beefy arms and a biker mustache, stick him in a spandex suit with a belt of candy canes; opposite him put Skellington on a fire breathing motorcycle that hums the theme from Halloween in a never-ending loop–

We have to wait on the picture?

Fine–I suppose I can them entertained until then.

Is he gone? Good. What a piece of black licorice….

You are obviously wondering the purpose of this artful picture–not to give myself credit or anything. As a matter of fact it is the essential image of the war waged between Halloween and Christmas since the dawn of the Tootsie Roll and the stocking stuffers.

Marketing–that selfish fruitcake!

Pardon my French, ladies.

To illustrate this further I see I need to educate you on your role as a consumer in these colossal money suckers. For both Halloween and Christmas there is this feeling; and this feeling–in laymen terms we call it anxiety–pushes you, the tradition following citizen, to leave the safety of your home and venture out to the treacherous soul stealing–in laymen terms we call it your wallet–pit known as Wal Mart to purchase either latex masks and candy bags, or aluminum trees and freaky elves you like to see staring at you from the shelf…

In short: the repetitive ankle twisters of the holiday season.

Imagine a man breaks into your house; and while you are stuffing shells into your shotgun–it was an early Christmas present–he rushes up to you and twists your wrist so far you wish it did snap. He tells you the only way he is letting go is if you buy him a roll of present wrapping and a gingerbread house kit. This man is Twister Tommy–the bastardized version of your favorite holidays; and he lives on Consumerism Avenue.

Do the right thing–eliminate the Twister Tommy who intrudes on your season. This has been a Public Service Announcement from the Bureau of Protecting the Values of Holiday Fun Times.

Is that picture ready yet?

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Writing is the New Running

It should be obvious by now: I like to write. If I hated writing I would not do it; however as it is my favorite hobby I devote what little time I have to its pursuance–perhaps one day as a career. It is calming and acts as a source of release for me; all the pent up issues in a day are blown out in 500 or 600 words a night.

But you know what else is calming?

Running five six or miles. You know how it feels to strap on your shoes–okay, who actually straps on shoes? we all have laces for a reason–and leave your driveway or apartment staircase and go jogging inside a mental marshmallow. At first you may hate this feeling–and then you will grow to love the runner’s high received from running comfortably for a long period of time. It has nothing to do with drugs.

The thing is, running and writing are not as separate as they seem: they both require excessive mental endurance; they both act as forms of release from stress–although some stories can be stressful–and for both pacing is key.

What do I mean by pacing?

A story needs conflict and character–action and rest.

A race needs sprinting and running–action and rest.

To master each form you must understand them. I’m not about to spout some Mr. Miagi be-one-with-the-story junk; but when excelling in writing and running you have been through the ringer with them; you have sat down next them on the bus and fired up an emotional conversation in which both parties shed at least one tear; and you have been versed in all of their likes and dislikes throughout life.

This sounds more serious than it is, you say. Perhaps on that you are right, but are you willing to step out there and get to know these activities, to cherish them fully for what they not only appear to be but truly are?

Running and writing are buddies; their friendship is unmatchable even on the standards of Frodo and Sam…or the pilots in Top Gun. If you happen to do both take them out to dinner some time and observe the fluidity arising from their sudden union. Buy writing breadsticks…and get running a platter of salad–he is always on about his diet.

And get this, I ask him, “Hey, Running, you want some chocolate cake?” He turns slowly in his sweaty singlet and gym shorts–all the while he is staring with those grassy eyes of his–and replies, “Have you forgotten I am in your head? You’re not even talking to a real person!”

Joke’s on him, I guess…

Bye for now. I’m going to invite Drawing to the art museum–he’s a quiet guy.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

Cars: The One First Everyone Remembers

They come in varying shapes and sizes and colors and scents and tastes and– to put it simply they are the chariots of the American Dream; a customizer would sell his or her family to obtain a classic beauty and jazz it up; some children believe it their rite of passage to be handed those jingling keys and the dependability which accompanies them.

Old men love them. Old women love them.

Young men love them. Young women love them.

Teenagers drool over them: what would you do if your dream vehicle all of a sudden appeared in your driveway? There is your parent holding the keys over your trembling head–as a matter of fact it is your sixteenth birthday, and you did pass the driving test yesterday. No coincidences in this situation.

Of course I am referring to cars.

What is the first image popping into your head? A Volkswagen beetle, or even better a van; although nowadays those prices are steep. A hot rod–my neighbor owns a loud one. A pickup truck…not a bad choice. A Jeep.

Hold on. A Jeep?

Please tell me you’re lying; someone put to you up to this. Were you double dog dared?

I see–triple dog dared. Okay, go ahead and sit down in the back…yes, we’ll talk later.

Geez, man, Jeeps? Can you believe that guy?

Back to the point:

There is something to be said about the thrills received from driving aimlessly across the interstate system. Towns you never heard of appear instantaneously on the sides of the road; for example you see a sign reading Kimbolish and beneath it in blue letters, 4 miles, but you realize Kimbolish sounds like the dumbest name for a town and you stopped to take a leak not five minutes ago. So grab a t-shirt, a mug with the town name spelled in foam letters upon the ceramic…call it a day. But if you forget to try their local burger joint, then stop off at Fernaningo–the ghost town fifteen miles ahead. I heard they specialize in mystery meat.

Cars are also the social markers of our world. The next time you are prowling the streets–to some of you it may be an everyday routine–watch the reactions to the driver in the sports car compared to the driver of the mini van; babies laugh when one of those horns go off—and it is not the latter.

What was your first car?

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

 

 

Fortun(-e)ate Son. Clever, Huh?

You go to a Chinese restaurant for a number of reasons:

The dumplings.

The crazy dragon architecture–they are not spouting real fire.

And the fortune cookies; but to be honest those were the first images which popped into your head, weren’t they? Professional psychic, people; I work Tuesdays and Sundays, so go ahead and leave your check on the doorstep.

Anyhow…

We were discussing Chinese interests, choice among them fortune cookies; but have you ever wondered how truthful their slips are? See, I look at it optimistically: once you crack open a cookie the fortune listed directly relates to your life. And if your life is literally going down the toilet, perhaps the fortune will say, “Time for a deep plunge,” or if it’s one of those cheeky slips, then “Surf’s up, dude. Hang ten.”

Burn those cheeky slips. Set a torch to ’em–they were manufactured in Hell anyways.

But you know which cookies you dream of…the ones perfectly describing your tumultuous love life by saying, “Tulips are the color of your money…and your heart.” Excuse me, in modern terms, “Buy her tulips, you cheapskate.” What is that going to get you?

I got a cookie today telling me to “maintain my appetite and accept the smaller things” The thing is, I run, so unless it is referring to my current relationship–actually, scratch that, it only makes sense for vampires and cannibals. I don’t eat girls.

I might as well take it into consideration. And so should you. Go to a Chinese restaurant, drool over the dragons–maybe some of you want to take selfies under its gaping jaws–then buy rice and more rice; and take a bag of fortune cookies home with you. Read them out loud at the table…even if they say, “A trip to the bathroom is imminent in your future.”

By the way, be careful about that rice.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

 

Paying It Forward One Person At A Time

To those of you who have heard of the pay it forward movement, well, kudos to you; it is an honorable way of spreading kindness throughout the world, and I hope you have acted on instinct and helped at least one person since you knew of its existence.

To those of you who have not heard of the pay it forward movement, ask the person sitting next to you–they are likely to know of it or know of someone who has paid it forward–and once they tell you, thank them and give them a big high five. They deserve one. And it will make you feel great.

I mention pay it forward solely because my sociology teacher has given us an assignment to pay it forward to three people we know; one of these acts is to be a heartfelt letter to the person that has made a significant impact on you, and the other two acts are of your choosing. Sounds like an easy task, yes? Here’s the kicker: they have to be something big. 

We cannot scoot through the assignment by simply picking up a dropped pencil or telling someone they’re wearing a nifty jacket that day–although those are random acts of kindness–we have to impact their lives on a large level; and then ask them to pay it forward to three people of their choosing.

A domino effect.

When I think of who I want to help it sends shivers across my arms. Help improve three lives? Who could be so crazy as to devote time to such a crusade? Finding the right problem alone…

But I am not cowed.

I swear here to write a heartfelt letter to a person who has had a significant impact on my life.

I swear here to help improve the lives of two people, even if it gets difficult.

Movements of kindness can change the world–that is what I intend to do. And in writing about pay forward on my blog I am hoping whoever reads this post will pay it forward to three people of their choosing; and maybe together we can all change the world one person at a time.

Make a difference today.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

Why Collecting Horror Figures Is Fun…

One of my more stranger qualities is my obsession with collecting horror memorabilia; masks; props; and figures–yes, I said figures, as in nine inch action figures of my favorite horror movie monsters, from Frankenstein’s Monster to Leatherface.

As of now I have them propped in my windowsill in numerous terrifying positions: Jason Voorhees is in the process of chopping off Candyman’s hand; Leatherface is about to smash a hammer on a Freddy Krueger head; and Boris Karloff as Frankenstein’s Monster is standing dull on his sandstone podium, his green right arm hanging from a chain on his green left arm, as he looks in wonder at the stupidity of his fellow figures…I also like placing one in view of the doorway; so when people walk into my room–guess what they see:

A fifteen inch Chucky.

He is standing atop my writing desk beside a plush Slimer; and is holding a blood stained butcher knife. This is the figure most people want to throw in the garbage because of how frightened they are of him. It is why I keep him out–how often do people get a good scare anymore?

For me it is a three year collection. I know, lazy, compared to some collectors whose hobbies consume whole rooms, even houses; but I like to keep the collection small and manageable within the parameters of my cramped four foot windowsill–it will get cramped if I buy enough of these plastic guys…you betcha.

Tirelessly I have searched the counters of antique stores and the webpages of Amazon for them. One month I would pick up a figure, then another month would pass; and the following week a package from Amazon would arrive; and then come my birthday–but you get the point. They took a long time to collect. A hobby this large is not easily accomplished in a number of weeks. It takes motivation and perseverance, interest and eagerness, money and…more money.  And space; you need tons of space.

But all the same it is worth the investiture. Everyone needs a hobby; and even if you only collect pocket watches or gunpowder shavings from the Civil War you will have fun searching and eventually stacking them on your own shelf.

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampires: You Know You Want To Be One…

There is something about the way Anne Rice writes of vampires which make them seem so enticing…that you think of the fun times to be had as a night prowler skipping over rooftops and draining victims as you flutter over sea and land like a dark god.

Only I think so?

Others have likely entertained such thoughts of power and immortality–leaders like Napoleon and Hitler wanted more than anything to live eternally through their global changes.  Fascination comes with immortality. Fascination comes with vampires.

Disadvantages:

One, never seeing the sun. I love the sun and the shadows it creates.

Two, blood is your only source of energy. That means I have to give up pizza and chicken and ravioli and chocolate cake and yogurt and milk and…

Three, all life despises you. As of now I have prepared my letter of goodbyes to my family, wishing them a pleasant life without me and my silly thoughts–oh, and, sis, yes, my nails were extremely long yesterday morning–and in my pets’ beds I have placed tiny notes attached to treats so that they might garner an understanding of my absence.

Cut the last part–dogs and cats can’t read…pity. That means the copy of Clifford: The Big Red Dog I left in my dogs’ cage was never savored. Double pity.

Perhaps I should consider living as a werewolf.

Full moon anyone?

Think daily,

A Southpaw

 

 

 

 

Why I Have This Blog

Fun Fact: This blog originally started as a summer assignment for my high school reading class. Crazy, right?  Well, what is even crazier is the love I gained for it during my summer vacation.

I had always heard of blogs as being enjoyable for both the blogger and their followers; and above all the opinions about a blog was the view that it opened up a new avenue of communication and expression for anyone. Yes, any one with access to a computer can set up a blog and cast their thoughts across the boundless Internet. The concept is inspiring when you think of it in those terms…is it not?

While I was writing the posts for my class I wondered why I kept making separate posts–these were the Miscellaneous posts–and asking myself if a blog was really my next avenue of writing. As I continued this doubt shortened and a new confidence took its place: the blog became another source of release in life.

So, Thoughts of a Southpaw became more than a summer assignment–and I have valued it since then. A blog is a good form of release.

Think daily, 

A Southpaw

New Additions to the Blog?

A Southpaw here,

In recent months I have written posts on the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and How to Read Literature Like A Professor–both of which were extremely enjoyable to talk about; as well I wrote some miscellaneous thinkings and a movie review of Last Shift.

I am coming to a close on those books and will review them.

Today I wanted to talk about what the blog will feature in the future. I am certainly going to focus on books (I do love my classics…if that’s any hint) and a few choice movies here and there. They will not be plain reviews. These books are classic for a reason, and so should be treated likewise; meaning I will discuss certain intriguing sections of the books in creative ways, such as I did for Huckleberry Finn.

But most importantly this post is about receiving input from you guys: tell me what books sound interesting; what movies sound interesting; and anything you can think of which will make this blog a delight to read. All comments will be helpful!

This blog is supported by its followers…so why not give some advice to improve it?

Think daily,

A Southpaw

A Literary Emancipation

There are strong controversial matters tied to Gender Studies and Queer Theory in the last few chapters of the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn;  controversial of course at the original time of publication in 1844–years before the initial reading of the Emancipation Proclamation in 1862 by President Abraham Lincoln.

The controversy: treating a black slave with respect and granting him freedom.

Mark Twain was by no means a closet abolitionist. Still, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is  by far the heaviest criticized novel in his literary career–some states went so far as to ban the book from their libraries because of his divergence from the then current racial views–and many have been especially critical on the matter of freeing Jim at the end of the novel, says Huck, “[w]e had Jim out of the chains in no time…and fixed him up prime…and gave him all he wanted to eat…” (Twain. 292).

The controversy begins when the villagers recapture Jim; and at first they do not want to grant him his deserved freedom, as to them the racial rules of society are to be strictly followed; and a black person should remain a slave until the end of his days. They are  eerily described while gathered in the sitting room at night “…and every one of them [with] a gun[…]” (Twain. 273). Their views start to change when the doctor tells them of Jim’s caring nature towards his friends: “I liked the nigger for that…gentlemen…a nigger like that is worth a thousand dollars–and kind treatment, too.” (Twain. 286); so they then “…softened up a little…” (Twain. 286).

Now, while in the States softening up to slaves was frowned upon, and if someone was pleasant it was a miracle, in the novel it is written as if it is a commonplace event and those who enacted his release are as much unaffected as the boy narrating the novel.

As said before Mark Twain had no deeper interest in abolitionism than what is written in the book, and so his attitude towards the topic is expressed mundanely; however it takes nothing away from the historical implications of freeing a slave twenty years before the Emancipation Proclamation–double points for Mark Twain.

Think daily,

A Southpaw