My Top Reads of the Year

So, I think most of us can agree that 2016 has been a pretty awful year for the world. On the bright side, I’ve read some good books over the past twelve months. Here are a few of them, in no particular order.

Best of 2016

Age of Myth by Michael J. Sullivan

I knew from the moment I read it that Michael J. Sullivan’s Age of Myth would be right up there on this list. Though technically a prequel to his other works, Sullivan ensures that the book is understandable and entertaining for all. Case in point, I’ve never read any of the author’s work before, and I absolutely loved it. The book is perfect for fans of fantasy and adventure, Tolkien, or anyone who enjoyed Game of Thrones but was confused by all the characters.

Not Alone by Craig A. Falconer

This is one of the best “first contact” stories I’ve encountered. The book starts off a little cartoonish, but quickly becomes a very realistic depiction of how the world might react to such a scenario. With an endearing cast of characters and a realistic and unpredictable plot, this sci-fi is definitely worth checking out. If you’re a fan of audiobooks, I’d strongly recommend the audiobook narrated by James Patrick Cronin.

The View From the Cheap Seats by Neil Gaiman

In The View From the Cheap Seats, fantasy’s most perceptive author regales us with his opinions on everything from books and comics to current events. At times, part memoir, at times part journalism, and at others somewhere in between, this collection of essays is a must read for any fans of the genre, and indeed anyone looking for a perceptive lens through which to view the world. Gaiman’s greatest strength as a writer has always been his empathy, and that shines through here. This collection of essays illustrates why his fiction is so effective, and how exactly he articulates ideas we all sense even if we don’t understand them. If you’re interested, check out my full review here.

The Bands of Mourning by Brandon Sanderson

There isn’t much I can say about Brandon Sanderson that hasn’t been said already. This book is the third in the Wax and Wayne segment of the Mistborn saga, itself only a portion of the larger Cosmere sequence. If these words confuse you, don’t worry. I’ve read most of Sanderson’s books and still don’t entirely understand what’s going on. If you want to read Bands of Mourning, I’d recommend catching up with the rest of the Mistborn books first. If you’ve already done so and you’ve read Bands of Mourning… HOLY SH!T ENDING??!?!?! Something Sanderson does incredibly well is addressing the macro (the grand happenings of the universe he has created) without forgetting the micro (character interactions and the realistic problems faced by individuals). For anyone who’s a fan original and innovative fantasy, I’d really recommend giving Brandon Sanderson a read.

Other books I read in 2016 (not published this year)

The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

Another fantasy entry on this list, Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor is detail-heavy. The amount of world-building the author managed to place into a relatively short volume is quite impressive. The plot isn’t always the most exciting, but it’s a slow and meticulous study of a fantasy society that questions the nature of power, race, and the class system. Think Game of Thrones with a few less heads being crushed.

14 by Peter Clines

I stumbled upon Peter Clines a year or so ago while browsing through Audible, and I’m very happy I did. The second of his books I’ve read, 14 introduces an interesting shared universe that mirrors our own. The books each contain their own cast of characters and are loosely connected by interspersed cameos and a growing threat in the background (remember how Marvel slowly introduced us to its Cinematic Universe?). By combining likeable characters with an interesting mystery, 14 is an easy read with something more for those who care to look.

                                      Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

An incredibly timely book given the problems plaguing the United States right now (as though there was a time when race wasn’t an issue in the US). National correspondent for The Atlantic Ta-Nehisi Coates examines the question of a black man’s place in the world in light of recent high profile events. Framing the work as a letter to his son, Coates’ prose has a poetic imperfection that lends to the work’s aching poignancy. Coates’ love for his son lives on the page. The pain he feels at the deaths of so many others, and the fear for his own son’s life, is like a punch to the gut. Between the World and Me is not a fun book to read, but it is an important one.

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Set in Nigeria during the 1960s, Half of a Yellow Sun follows three major characters as they attempt to deal with the onset of the Biafran War. Steeped in historical details and based on the firsthand accounts of the author’s relatives, the book is a heartbreaking portrayal of the costs of war and the legacies of colonialism. The book provides an intriguing examination of how intellectual ideals and harsh realities often clash. This is a great book for fans of the works of Khaled Hossieni.

The Sculptor by Scott McCloud

This graphic novel is quite unlike anything I’ve ever read. Scott McCloud manages to tap into something all creators, writers, and artists inevitably feel but cannot always articulate. Over a few hundred pages of beautiful and slightly impressionistic artwork, McCloud tells a beautiful story of love, life, and the struggles faced by all those who create. The last hundred pages is quite possibly one of the most powerful things I have ever read. At two in the morning, this story’s conclusion left me in tears yet ultimately hopeful.

A Life With Words by Richard B. Wright

Similar to The Sculptor, Richard B. Wright’s memoir provides us some beautiful insight into the life of a writer. Chronicling his young life and the struggles he faced – both internal and external – while breaking into the Canadian literary scene, A Life With Words speaks to the insecurities felt by all those who think deeply about the world around them. This is a unique memoir in that the author refers to himself in the third person. Some might call this pretentious, but I found this detail spoke to the distance we often feel from the world, something most writers struggle with at some time or another.

For a full list of books I’ve read over the past few years, many of which I’ve reviewed and commented on, check out my Goodreads profile.

Rogue One: A unique Star Wars film

Last year’s The Force Awakens provided us with a nostalgia-driven reincarnation of traditional Star Wars themes and motifs. In an obvious attempt to mirror the tone and structure of the Original Trilogy (sometimes too obviously), the film gave us a new cast of heroes to root for, a new set of destinies to unfold over the next few years. Once again, we saw the fate of the galaxy placed in the hands of a few swashbuckling heroes.

Rogue One is a very different sort of film. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a better film than last year’s addition to Star Wars canon, but it certainly succeeds in one aspect that The Force Awakens never could: for the first time, we have a truly unique Star Wars story.

When he began the Original Trilogy back in 1977, George Lucas created something incredible. Not only did he spawn a multimedia franchise that has come to infuse itself into the minds of people the world over. Lucas created a self-contained world in the manner of the greatest fantasy stories, a universe in which there is a constant battle between the forces of good and evil. Star Wars isn’t just science fiction: it’s Tolkien in space.

One of the things I’ve always loved about Star Wars is the depth of the world building. Lucas’ original films created a lived-in universe that science fiction had not seen before. In just a few hours of screen times, the films gave the universe depth and history. The audience knew that there were stories behind the stories they witnessed. This is what has allowed for an expanse of comic books and novels spanning thousands of years.

However, the main film series has always been forced (no pun intended) to focus on central themes of good and evil, fate and destiny. The rest of the universe has necessarily been left to the avid fans, those who purposely seek out the world beyond what we see onscreen. In order to make the main canon accessible to casual and serious fans of all ages, the series has been constricted to broad and romantic themes. To focus on anything else within the main story would have changed the nature of Star Wars.

The Original Trilogy revolved around the fate of the entire galaxy, a battle between the forces of good and evil, and an attempt to bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy. It seems that the Sequel Trilogy will be doing the same, dealing with the revival the lost guardians of peace and hope in order to fight an oppressive and cruel regime.

The oft-maligned Prequel Trilogy also dealt with such themes, though it also attempted to expand the world behind the Original Trilogy. One of the reasons these films are so disliked is because they failed to find a balance between capturing the grandiose themes of the Original Trilogy and providing ultimately implausible outer-space society with an element of reality. In its efforts to explain how the Empire came to be, the Prequel Trilogy lost some of the magical spark necessary that tied it into the main canon.

This is where Rogue One comes in. Free from the constraints of the main storyline, Rogue One has a degree of independence – and thus, originality – that no Star Wars film has had. By following characters who are secondary to the grander storyline, the film gives us a chance to see what life under the Empire is like. We see the realities of fighting a rebellion. Rogue One reminds us that the revolution of the Original Trilogy did not happen without sacrifice. Though Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, and Princess Leia might always walk away unscathed, most members of the Rebellion simply don’t have that luxury. Many are forced to do unspeakable acts, watch their friends and families die in horrific manners. Rogue One gives a previously unseen degree of reality to the Star Wars universe, taking some of the romanticism out of the events of the original films.

The characters of Rogue One are not heroes, not in the same sense that Luke and Leia or Finn and Rey are heroes. These characters are criminals and murderers. They’re the people in the background, the fodder for battles that leading heroes always survive.

Occasionally, Rogue One invokes the grandiosity of the main franchise. The Force, and the morality surrounding it, are intrinsic aspects of the Star Wars universe. The difference in this film is that these elements are secondary to the gritty realities of the universe. Rogue One is, perhaps, the most relatable Star Wars film for this very reason. The characters it involves are not perfect. They aren’t black and white, far from it. These people are conflicted and complex, and they are not always good people. The battles they fight are not fun. War is hell, wherever it is fought. Sometimes, Star Wars might forget this. Rogue One does not.

Rogue One manages to maintain a degree of the levity found in the franchise’s other films. The humour is generally grim but often laugh-out-loud. There are enough throwbacks to let us know that this film exists in the same universe, ending just moments before A New Hope. Secondary characters from the Original Trilogy such as Mon Mothma and Grand Moff Tarkin play central roles. R2-D2 and C-3P0 even make a cameo.

Vader's pun game was on point in this film

Another thing Rogue One does well is its treatment of its antagonists. While Orson Krennic might have been a pretty lame flop of a villain (he basically spends the entire movie whining and getting shot down by his superiors), classics such as Wilhuff Tarkin and Darth Vader are given excellent treatment. Though Peter Cushing (the actor who played Tarkin in 1977) is long dead, his character was brought back to life in beautifully rendered (not to mention controversial) CGI that allowed us a new opportunity to examine one of Star Wars’ most interesting villains.

The real villainous spotlight, however, is Darth Vader. Though the infamous Sith Lord only plays a minor role in the film, his two scenes are among the best we’ve ever seen. In keeping with Rogue One’s themes of realism and shades of grey, Vader’s treatment in this film reminds us exactly why his first appearance in A New Hope had the rebel soldiers shaking in their boots. The new film’s final sequence brutally illustrates that, though he might achieve some degree of redemption a few years onwards, Darth Vader is not, at heart, a tragic anti-hero: he is a cold, cruel, and powerful murderer who will cut down anything in his way.

Rogue One is a film that would not have worked if it had been a part of the main series. The deftness with which it handles the complex realities behind this fantasy universe gives me a new hope for this anthology series (pun very much intended). Rogue One is not perfect. At times, one can see the studio’s invisible hand; there are sections of dialogue that I wish had been rewritten. But in its goal of creating a unique atmosphere and realistic tone, Rogue One is most certainly a success.

In the Wake of Tragedy

 Sometimes life throws you a curveball.

Sometimes, the world decides to throw a great big shit in your face.

Obscene? Perhaps. Accurate? Definitely. This past week, the entire world had a massive, spray tan drenched, toupee-wearing shit thrown in its face.

Honestly, it’s taken me this long to actually process the reality of Trump’s victory, and even now I find myself questioning reality. A President Trump is a gut punch to the world. It’s an insult to human dignity. It is, simply put, a travesty.

A vote for Trump was not a vote for any kind of coherent policy. It was not a vote for positive change. It was a vote born of frustration, made by the short sighted, the ignorant, and the downright selfish.

Trump’s election is a tragedy for humanity.

Not all of his supporters are racists, sexists, or homophobes. But most racists, sexists, and homophobes are his supporters.

Those that are not themselves bigots condone, by their actions last Tuesday, every kind of bigotry Trump has promoted. By supporting him, many reasonable and moderate (primarily white) Americans have simply accepted the promotion of so many prejudices that western society has worked to limit over the past century.

Previous presidents have made mistakes. Many have been elected on platforms I wholeheartedly disagree with. Yet I cannot think of an instance in recent history where society has so blatantly, not to mention willingly, taken a step backwards.

It is a tragedy of epic proportions.

As in the wake of all tragedies, it will take time for us to adjust. The initial period is about surviving. This is when the heavy drinking happens, as one denies reality. For me, this past week has been about weathering the shock, as denial slowly moves into acceptance.

For many, this period of shock will last longer than a week. For some, unfortunately, it will be shortly forgotten as their lives move on. For many who are unaffected by this tragedy (and many simply too ignorant of how it will affect them), the period of mourning is simply nonexistent.

I no longer feel shock, or denial. I have moved onto the next stage of dealing with tragedy.

I am angry.

I don’t have many words of optimism. I don’t feel very optimistic myself. I’m sure the anger will fade, but I know that the passion that drives it will not subside into dull acceptance.

This tragedy was unnecessary. Donald Trump was not something that had to happen to the world. His election is an injustice.

We may not be able to change this injustice. But we can survive it. We can make it through to the other side, and we can try to make the world a better place for it.

There is my obligatory attempt at some kind of philosophical “the night is always darkest before the day” bullshit.

The only way things are going to change is if we change them.

I am angry, and I have little patience for people telling me to “accept the result.” One can accept something is going to happen without being happy about it. One can accept reality while acknowledging the absurdity of that reality. One can challenge the bigots of the world while knowing they are trying to extinguish a house fire with a water gun.

Those that tell us to simply “accept” the result are those that condone the injustices Trump stands for. These people are the problem.

To everyone who is affected by this both directly and indirectly, to everyone who hurts for the world and for their fellow human beings, to everyone who feels as heartbroken as I do: try not to give up. As hard is it may be, don’t stoop to their level. Don’t let their apathy overcome you. No matter how many times people roll their eyes at you, ignore you, label you, or disdain for your “political talk,” keep on fighting for what you know is right.

Some people have no choice about the battles they fight; it is up to us who have the luxury of choosing to stand up for those who are not so lucky.

It’s the only way we can even come close to stopping the Trumps of the world.

Why this election matters

I was eight when I first learned about racism. A teacher at our school, a Middle-Eastern man whose name I can’t remember, took all of the boys in my class to one area while the girls were taken separately by another teacher. I never found out why we were separated by gender (or if I did I don’t remember) but the memory has stuck with me to this day.

The teacher spoke plainly, with barely concealed disgust in his voice. He told us that something called “racist language and behavior” had been going on at our school, and that if it did not stop then the police would be contacted. The people involved, he said, knew who they were. He refused to answer the questions put forth by those of us who were left confused, and we were quickly sent back to class.

At the time, I had never heard the word “racist.” But if I had, it would have meant nothing to me. I grew up in an area in the southern UK with a lot of racial diversity. There were many “black” and “brown” kids at my school, and even a few “Asians,” but these distinctions meant little to me. Referring to a peer as black was no different than saying my best friend had brown eyes. As far as I was concerned, good people were good people and bad people were bad people, regardless of the colour of their skin. In my youthful naiveté, I was about as close to proverbially colourblind as one could get.

The teacher’s ultimatum shook me deeply. I went home and asked my mum what the teacher had been referring to, fearful that I might be unwittingly engaging in this behaviour. Mum quickly assuaged my fears, but seemed disturbed by the news that our school had a race issue serious enough that the police would potentially be involved.

She explained to me that some people – cruel, ignorant, petty individuals – liked to find excuses for putting down and hurting others. Unfortunately, these people often used differences in appearance, such as skin colour, as just such an excuse for hurting others. Some people, she said, often white people like us, believed themselves better simply because of the colour of their skin.

“Just like the bullies who call people stupid or fat?” I asked.

“Yes,” Mum said, a sad pride in her eyes. “Just like those bullies.”

This is one of the defining moments of my childhood. The memory remains as powerful as the actual experience. My mother provided a rather simplified definition of racism for my young mind, but, as is often the case, simplicity can be poignant.

Racism, at its core, is not a complex phenomenon. Simply put, it is the act by which petty, ignorant, and insecure people finding an excuse – be that excuse the colour of a person’s skin, their country of origin, or their religion of choice – to relegate others as inferior in their own minds. Racism is just one of countless forms this phenomenon takes.

As I realized at the age of eight, racists are bullies.

Flash forward to 2016, and we are seeing the legitimization of these bullies. This presidential election race has allowed the darkest, cruelest, and pettiest corners of humanity to slink out from their hiding places and find the most dangerous thing one can give a bully: legitimacy.

This election is about more than just Donald Trump. It’s certainly about more than Hillary Clinton and whatever one might think of either candidate’s policies. This election is about the same phenomenon that has allowed for the far right’s rise in Europe, caused riots in Ferguson, Baltimore, and countless other cities, or resulted in seismic geopolitical events such as Brexit.

I think it is too early to define this phenomenon yet. We are living through a moment in history, a turning point precipitated by events like 9/11 and the Great Recession, and this election is merely a piece of a picture we won’t be able to see in its entirety for years to come.

However, it is possible to perceive parts of the picture. Attitudes and moods are clear. People desire change. For many in the United States, this change comes in the form of Donald Trump. He represents an alternative to everything people are frustrated with – everything his competitor stands for. His followers want a revolution, the complete overhaul of a system that seems to have left them behind.

Perhaps such a revolution needs to come. Perhaps we should have allowed Bernie Sanders to carry his own movement forward. Many of his supporters have now turned to Trump, seeing their desire for change as more important than the candidate’s obscene views. These people are so desperate for change that they would be willing to bring it regardless of the costs.

A dam is about to burst. I fear for what is to come, regardless of who sits in the White House come January.

Our world is not a fantasy, yet people seem to view it as such. There seems to be a failure to realize that lasting, widespread change, particularly of the type Trump will bring, cannot happen overnight and without bloodshed. Revolutions come at a human cost, and, indeed, many ultimately fail.

If we allow Trump’s revolution to happen, we legitimize the bullies. Though I am not an American, I include myself in that “we” because tomorrow’s results will ripple throughout the world. Donald Trump represents a discontent that is present across the globe.

I urge people to think about what this election means, what each candidate truly stands for and the kind of people they represent. Every action has consequences, both visible and invisible. Perhaps a President Trump will provide a welcome change in some areas, a man willing to throw out the norms of politics and bring his own change to a broken system. But is it worth all the things he will destroy in order to bring change?

Think of the people he represents. While many of his supporters are reasonable, intelligent people, he also represents the dregs of humanity. It is this minority, the percentage of his supporters who are bullies, those that hear his sickening words and nod in agreement, that will cause the ripples. When people hear their darkest ideas echoed by potentially the most powerful man in the world, those ideas are emboldened and reinforced. Legitimized. Those most extreme in their hatred will inevitably entice the moderate bullies, those simply ignorant and outdate in their mindsets, into extremity, who will in turn induce others.

Donald Trump’s election will be the pebble that causes the landslide.

Such rhetoric might seem extreme, but it is hard to deny its accuracy. When has any other leader so brazenly flaunted the democratic system? When has any other leader openly made comments about rape? When before has a candidate so openly endorsed, and been endorsed by, the worst of humanity, the dictators and extremists of the world?

Donald Trump by himself is not the problem. Does he hate all immigrants? Does he believe women to be inferior? The simple answer is that these things do not matter. The issue is that people believe that he thinks these things. The people who believe these things hear their own convictions echoed in his words.

Whether purposely or through ignorance, Donald Trump empowers the bigots and bullies of the world. He gives weapons to people in schools such as my own, the bullies who use skin colour and other visible distinctions as a mark of superiority.

When I was eight, good teachers stood up for those whose rights were being stepped on. What happens when these people, the people willing to stand up rather than stand idle, are outnumbered by the apathetic? What happens when the apathetic become bigots themselves?

I don’t know what racism went on at my school when I was eight, but I know it was stopped. With Donald Trump as president, it will not be stopped the next time. In countless towns and cities across America and across the world, racism, sexism, and various other cruelties will be allowed to run unchecked, because the most powerful man in the world provides a voice for those that prey upon cruelty.

That is why this election is important. Perhaps our system is broken. Perhaps Hillary Clinton represents that broken system.

But at least in this system we’ve always told the bullies they are bullies.

Writer's Block and Depression

I’ve been struggling to write recently.

This happens sometimes, bouts of writer’s block that can last weeks or months.

I’ve had a couple of people ask me why I haven’t posted anything in a while. Surely the presidential debates are prime subject for me to write about, aren’t they?

It’s true: the debacle that is the current presidential race provides a lot of juicy material, from Trump’s comments about sexual assault to the fact that people somehow still manage to bitch about Hillary Clinton. I have many thoughts on this subject and others.

Why don’t I write them?

People assume I have not tried. I’ve articulated many of my thoughts to friends and family, and I’ve started if not finished several pieces on various topics.

But then, that’s the problem with writer’s block, as anyone who practices writing or other creative exploits: it’s often not the lack of ideas that hinders the process, rather a difficulty in transmitting those ideas onto the page.

The mental stymie extends beyond my writing. My schoolwork has suffered, and I’ve been finding it harder and harder to motivate myself to do simple tasks such as exercise or do my laundry. I find myself questioning the purpose in a lot of my actions. What’s the point in reading this book? Why do I need to go to class today? It’s like a constant existential crisis. Why? Why put any effort into anything? I haven’t been sleeping well. Somehow my late night thoughts consistently wander until I find myself contemplating the inevitable heat death of the universe.

A short while back, Mary Robinette Kowal wrote a really good piece on the relation between writer’s block and depression. I highly recommend everyone give it a read. I don’t often talk about my struggles with depression, but I did write about it in a piece for Beautiful Minds Magazine a while back, and those closest to me are familiar with my situation.

Intellectually speaking, I find the situation quite interesting. Is the writer’s block a product of how I’ve been feeling the last few weeks, or is this bout of depression a product of the creative wall I’ve struck?

I don’t want this blog to get stuck on lengthy ruminations about my state of mind. I have a journal for that. I want the pieces I post here to be productive, stimulating conversation on meaningful and interesting topics.

However, I feel that a bit of an explanation as to why I’ve been quiet the last few weeks is in order. I appreciate the people that read my posts and who stick by me. To those of you reading this right now, you have no idea how much your support means.

Sometimes, the act of self-reflection and confession can be cathartic. I’m hoping I’ll get out of this slump soon. Until then, I really do appreciate everyone’s support and encouragement.

The Hat Incident: the issue that never should have been

By now I’m sure everyone has heard of the notorious hat incident that occurred on the Mount Royal Campus a few days ago. If you haven’t, it basically went like this: a student (Matt) wearing a “Make America Great Again” hat around campus was confronted by another student (Zoe) for promoting “hate speech.” The two got into a conflict, the argument escalated, and someone placed a video of the incident on Facebook to go viral.

From there, it spiralled rapidly out of control, with coverage on a local, national, and international level. The scale of the conflict has escalated exponentially with the video going viral and anger being stirred up on both sides. The relatively innocuous incident has resulted in bad blood and vicious attacks on both sides. Zoe, in particular, has received a lot of backlash (up to the point of violent threats) for an action she was arguably justified in taking.

The issue being pedalled by the media is the debate about free speech this video prompts. In a supposedly safe space like a university campus, can the slogan of a racist political candidate be called “hate speech?” I’m not going to get bogged down in that argument, as I know smarter people than me are already doing that.

What strikes me as the biggest issue is the polarized reactions to the video. People don’t seem to be considering why each person acted as they did, only how they did it. Little of the media coverage considers the individuals in question beyond the small scope of the video posted.

Zoe’s argument rested on the fact that the hat’s slogan supports the campaign of a sexist, sociopathic narcissist who regularly stokes the fires of racial tension while obliviously inciting violence. Her motivation came from the desire to ensure that the campus is a place in which everyone can feel safe and secure. She was standing up for those who might justifiably feel uncomfortable at the sight of a politician like Trump being promoted.

Zoe’s actions were largely selfless, which is something few people seem to be considering. The creation of safe spaces is an incredibly important endeavour, and all individuals should feel free to express themselves in whatever manner they wish. She is now facing continual backlash for attempting to support this ideal.

But don’t Trump supporters get the same privilege, many would argue?

I don’t know Matt personally, but we are in the same program and have shared some classes. Having seen him both with and without the hat, before and after the incident, I can’t say I have ever seen any indication of prejudices along the lines that Trump espouses. My understanding is that Matt supports Mr. Trump’s economic policies rather than his social ones.

This raises the question: when a politician so actively promotes the marginalization of specific religious and ethnic groups, is it possible to promote that politician without promoting those prejudices?

As this incident illustrates, there are no clear answers.

Because of this, it is all the more important that level heads prevail. People need to think rationally about the incident and try to understand the motivations of both sides: one was standing up for marginalized minorities while the other was idly promoting a candidate with specific policies he supports. Neither of them did anything terribly wrong. Zoe’s confrontational method was not the correct way of addressing the issue, yet the concerns themselves were completely valid. Likewise, it is completely fair for Matt to promote a political candidate he supports, but it was unreasonable of him not to expect some kind of backlash.

These “mistakes” do not define either of these individuals.

Once the media picked up on the story, anger spread like wildfire, with Zoe generally portrayed as the villain. To me, this is a big problem.

While the media is happy to highlight Zoe’s insistence that Matt remove his hat, there seems to be little mention of her background as a leading member of the Students’ Association of Mount Royal University (SAMRU). As a member of SAMRU, it is her job to act as a leader among students and protect the interests of everyone on campus. Naturally, it would be fair for her to take the responsibility of standing up for those who have an issue with the hat in question.

Whether or not the slogan counts as hate speech, people feel uncomfortable at the presence of Matt’s hat. Given Trump’s background, this seems reasonable. Did Zoe go about the right way in bringing up these concerns? No. Was she justified in attempting to address them? Absolutely.

Zoe’s actions came from a good place. Her role as student leader makes her the natural voice for expressing concerns. The fact that she has been continually vilified for doing this is pathetic and ignorant. Zoe is not the villain here any more than Matt is for wearing his hat. Remember Zoe’s background and motivation the next time the media labels her a “bully”, accuses her of “attacking” anyone, or mocks her for being “frightened.”

If you find yourself agreeing with these terms, you are part of the problem.

Consider the fact that without online exposure the incident would have received little to no attention. If any blame is to be placed, it should be placed upon the idiot who decided to post a video of the conflict online. In the digital age such hot topic videos are not ignored, and the cameraman was incredibly irresponsible (if not plain stupid) to think it would go unnoticed. Indeed, the fact that he posted the video on a community page as well as his personal one suggests he was specifically going out of his way to defame Zoe.

Even so, sharing the video could easily have been a simple lapse in judgement. My point is that the amount of controversy this video has caused is unnecessary, and the amount of anger it has stirred up is neither fair nor warranted. Nobody involved should be attacked so viciously for their actions. Relatively minor mistakes have been blown out of proportion, and it sickens me to see the sort of threats and attacks Zoe has received in the wake of this video.

I don’t know Zoe, but I wish I did. I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now. Whatever her actions and whatever opinion people may have about those actions, there is no excuse for the derogatory, threatening, and sexist response the video has received.

I hope Zoe understands that for every asshole on the internet hailing abuse, there are a dozen people who understand that her actions came from the best of places. The world needs more people like her who are willing to stand up for the rights of others.

Why Jared Leto’s Joker exemplifies everything wrong with Suicide Squad

In light of underwhelming critical reception, the performances of a few talented individuals are Suicide Squad’s only saving grace. Jared Leto’s portrayal of the Joker, in particular, has been the subject of much praise, with many fans complaining that he was not given enough screen time. This complaint is surprisingly apt, given that the film’s mishandling of the character represents many problems originating from a case of too-many-cooks-in-the-kitchen.

Just as the film failed to determine a consistent tone, the writers seemed unable to decide whether the Joker was a sub-plot character or a primary villain. This confusion led a sense of pointlessness to the character, especially in light of the previous two years of promotion. Furthermore, despite all the hype surrounding the intensity of Leto’s performance, the end result is rather underwhelming, leaning heavily on Heath Ledger’s previous incarnation of the character.

Throughout the film, we see the Joker attempting to rescue Harley Quinn, the object of his twisted desire… and that’s about it. His plotline is secondary, a tangent that doesn’t really fit with the film’s storyline. Certainly, Leto’s villain is engaging while he’s on camera, yet one feels like they are watching different movies as the story jumps back and forth between the Joker’s pursuit and the Suicide Squad’s mission.

The relationship between Harley Quinn and the Joker is analyzed through clunky flashbacks that do not give either character the depth needed to fully shine. Though the pair are not the only characters introduced in such rushed exposition, they do provide the most prominent example of the writers’ failure to follow the basic “show and don’t tell” rule. Shots of the Joker seducing Dr. Harleen Quinzel are too rushed for the viewer to empathize with the truly appalling nature of their relationship, and the end result is far more unsatisfying than if their backstory had been left a mystery.

Through this twisted relationship, the writers had a perfect opportunity to portray the depth of the Joker’s depravity, the horrifyingly seductive nature of his madness. Instead, they opted to use the Joker as a promotional piece and Harley Quinn as a fetishized sex object. Given that Margot Robbie’s performance was, perhaps, the film’s greatest aspect, it was disappointing to see her constantly tied down to a tangent plotline. The scenes in which the Joker was not mentioned were her strongest by far.

Margot Robbie's performance was the highlight of the film,
but she was continually tied down to a pointless plotline

Suicide Squad reeks of studio meddling, best seen in the handing of the Joker, right down to the casting of Jared Leto. The character seems to serve no purpose other than to create cool shots for the trailers and increase the film’s marketability.

Given how soon Suicide Squad comes after Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece The Dark Knight, comparisons to Heath Ledger’s previous incarnation were inescapable. As Ledger’s Joker was easily one of the greatest cinematic performances in recent memory, any actor taking up the mantle so soon would inevitably do so in his shadow. Viewers wanted to see how Leto would fair, and the studio knew this. Thus, they continually manipulated the Joker’s promotion and portrayal in order to increase hype around him.

Indeed, Leto’s reputation for method acting was probably the reason he was cast in the role. Consider the stories circulating of his intensity on set. According to the reports, Leto was so into character that he terrorized cast and crew with gifts of anal beads, used condoms, and dead animals. Will Smith even went so far as to say that he never met Jared Leto, just the Joker.

This echoes the stories that circulated back in 2008 about Heath Ledger’s method acting and the circumstances of his death. Reportedly, Ledger spent a month locked in his apartment preparing for the role and emerged fully in character, presenting an on-set intensity that few actors could match. Shortly afterwards, he died under initially unclear circumstances. All this led an air of mystery to the film and to the villain, and farther deepened the film’s themes of madness and power.

Unfortunately, intense acting does not always equal a good performance, something Suicide Squad doesn’t seem to realize. Such intensity of acting has to be combined with effective writing and direction, as well as a purpose. In The Dark Knight, Ledger’s performance was used to enhance Nolan’s themes and ideas; in Suicide Squad, a generic summer blockbuster with little substance to it, Leto’s performance seems empty and pretentious.

In scenes like this one, Leto's intensity could have been
used to elevate the film somewhat

Suicide Squad’s Joker owes a lot to his predecessor. The attempted realism, his mobster-like stylization, and the on-set stories of the actors all echo back to Heath Ledger. Regardless of the film’s (many) writing errors around the character, this heavy reliance on his predecessor gives the character a sense of familiarity that doesn’t mesh with the praise Leto has gotten.

Indeed, I found the performance to be quite underwhelming. Was it good? Sure, especially when compared with the rest of the film. Was it amazing? No, not really. If you take away the hype, Jared Leto’s Joker is an unoriginal version of the character with very little to distinguish him from his predecessor. Or any other psychopathic film villain for that matter.

Simply put, Jared Leto’s performance is not as ground-breaking as he would like to imagine.

Suicide Squad was a (sometimes enjoyable) mess. The film couldn’t figure out what it wanted to be, and it relied too heavily on the hype surrounding a single secondary character. Despite being one of the film’s better performances, the writing of Leto’s Joker hindered the development of Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn (the film’s strongest asset), and caused an already confusing plot to become even more jumbled. All told, Leto's Joker represents a squandered element in a film with so much wasted potential.

A review of Neil Gaiman’s The View from the Cheap Seats

As someone who occasionally dabbles in words, I appreciate good writers.

Not just people who understands word choice and syntax (an important and often undervalued skill) or the mechanics of plot, but individuals who understand the unique power that words and stories can hold. In just a few marks on the page, writers have the power to change lives and alter realities, create worlds from nothing. Worlds that are very much real.

While many mediums achieve this goal, writing is uniquely collaborative in the way it does so. Without the input of the reader, writing does not work. The reader is imperative to the creation of a written story, and, as such, each reader’s experience with that work will be different. Middle-Earth would not exist without Tolkien, but neither would it exist without readers to interpret his words and bring his world to life in their minds.

No two readings of a novel, short story, or poem are the same.

When a reader engages a piece of literature, they bring to it their own experiences, their own biases, their own preconceptions. The reader cannot divorce themselves from the context in which they are reading, just as the words themselves cannot be divorced from the context in which they were written. The written work, as it exists in the writer’s head, is not the same as it exists in the reader’s head.

The true nature of the written word, any writing, is in constant flux, existing somewhere between the intentions of the author, the interpretation of the reader, and the context in which the words are written and read.

Neil Gaiman understands this fact better than most.

The View from the Cheap Seats is like an extended conversation with Gaiman, one of those discussions that ranges far from the original point, but from which both parties emerge with a far deeper understanding of one another.

In these essays, introductions, and speeches one is given the impression of knowing Gaiman intimately. He ruminates on all aspects of life, from writing and art, to the power of love and death. Rarely does he state his opinions and beliefs outright, yet they come through loud and clear. Gaiman does not condescend to his reader by assuming that they will share these beliefs; he is an observer, merely explaining the world as he sees it.

Incredibly astute in these observations, Gaiman puts things in terms that are often startlingly simple, yet all the more profound for that simplicity. What shines through in all these pieces is an incredible compassion for and insight into the world around him. Gaiman understands people, what drives them, and the profound power of art and writing.

Gaiman understands the potential of story, and he understands the power of words. Indeed, his particular love of writing, driven by a passion for art in all forms, is the message behind all these works. His understanding of art and life’s intimate love affair is unrivalled.

For those wishing to understand the creative mind, this book is perfect. For those wishing to know that they are not alone the world, this book is perfect. In many ways, this book is perfect, one that everyone should read.

Read Gaiman, and be inspired.

A Review of Requiem for the American Dream

I recently watched Noam Chomsky’s Requiem for the American Dream. In true Chomsky fashion, the film dismantles the mechanisms of our capitalist society, illustrating clearly exactly how the current economic system serves to keep the rich rich and the poor poor. Some of the ideas in the film are typical Chomsky, but in a world where inequality is a political buzzword, the film could not be any timelier.

For those who aren’t familiar with his work, Noam Chomsky is often regarded as one of the greatest intellectuals of our time. Originally a linguist, he has written over a hundred books in a broad range of fields including history, politics, and philosophy. Chomsky’s views are not for everyone (he is very much a socialist and an anarchist), but even his critics cannot argue against the fact that he is one of the greatest minds of the twentieth century.

In Requiem for the American Dream, Chomsky illustrates the “10 Principles of Concentration of Wealth and Power,” including rules like “Run the Regulators,” “Attack Solidarity,” and “Manufacture Consent.” It is through these methods, Chomsky argues, that America’s so called “one percenters” maintain their own exclusive place among the economic stratosphere. By running the government and manipulating the masses, big business continually marginalizes the working class. Chomsky illustrates here why the American Dream is truly just that: a dream.

The timing of this film is especially fitting, given the current state of American economics and politics. Inequality is at an all-time high, with even the IMF admitting the failure of neoliberalism, breeding a political climate in which candidates like Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump can ride the wave of frustration on both ends of the political spectrum. The increasing polarization of politics is not limited to the United States (as we can see from events like Brexit, or the increasing popularity of nationalist parties); however, as the capitalist standard bearer and the cultural heart of the western world, this phenomenon is, unsurprisingly, most visible in America.

With all this in mind, Chomsky’s diagnosis seems all the more poignant. For those acquainted with Chomsky’s work (a claim that I can only partially make), the film will seem familiar. It’s the classic critique of capitalism laid out in fairly simplistic terms.

It’s this simplicity that makes the film so effective. If one wants an in depth analysis of the problems with capitalism, one reads in-depth works of economic and political theory by Chomsky and others. A seventy minute documentary makes the arguments appealing to a lay audience for whom it is not necessary to understand the intricacies of microeconomics. Indeed, I’d count myself closer to this audience.

The filmmakers do an excellent job of accompanying Chomsky’s analysis with effective and poignant imagery. Chomsky’s words are interspersed with shots of Wall Street juxtaposed against images of the homeless and countless other representations of economic inequality.

One scene in particular stuck with me long after the film ended. When discussing the principle of “Manufacturing Consent,” Chomsky highlights the engineering of society to prioritize material wealth so as to discourage meaningful thought. Accompanying this analysis, we see a shot of perhaps the most appropriate symbol of consumerism, Walmart, overplayed by the words: “A group of teenagers with a free afternoon will go to the shopping mall rather than the library.”

I found this point in the film particularly haunting. By looking around on any given day, one can see the prominence of rampant consumerism. As a society, we, in general, have prioritized frivolous materialism above all else.

As an example, just look at the recent prominence of Pokémon Go. Sure, many of today’s youth are getting outdoors more than ever before. But what is the point of going outside if we never look up from our phones? A plugged in population is far more likely to consent. By focussing on such, ultimately, trivial things (video games, the newest smartphone, or other material possessions), our attention is taken away from meaningful causes. Consumerism, as Chomsky puts it, has become the measure of a good life.

Requiem for the American Dream is filled with such poignant moments, and I hope it will encourage some people to reflect on their lives and their role in society. I don’t hold myself above anyone – I realize I am just as complicit in the system as all those around me. However, I believe it is important for people to think critically and consider their own role in society, something I continually attempt to do.

The film isn’t perfect. It isn’t ground breaking by any means. It relies highly on rhetoric, and recycles some old criticisms of capitalism. But it is this simplicity that makes it accessible for the average viewer. I would highly recommend that everyone go watch it. The film is only seventy minutes long and available on Netflix, so put it on in the background while you’re doing homework or chores. You never know. It might change your perspective a little.

7/10

Published Work

So for everyone who is interested in reading my creative writing, I recently had my first piece published (by an actual magazine, not just my blog!). This is a personal essay I originally wrote for a creative nonfiction class that I decided to submit for publication in Beautiful Minds Magazine. The piece is an incredibly personal recounting of my struggles with mental health, depicting a particularly dark moment. It was quite difficult to write about, and even more difficult to share.

You can read the piece here:
https://beautifulmindsmagazine.org/2016/07/17/i-cannot-repair/

Let me know what you think! I also want to take this moment to say that I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to read these rambling thoughts I write down. I do harbor dreams of someday making a living as a writer, so it's quite encouraging to know that people are interested in reading what I have to say. I appreciate the support.

As always, thank you for reading.

Cam

Standing up to Intolerance

I recently got into an argument on Facebook.

Yes, I know: pointless, right?

Actually, no. I’m going to suggest that arguing on Facebook is not pointless, at least in some circumstances.

The argument in question began with a response I made to a misquotation of Vladimir Putin shared by this particular person. The quote in question suggested that “minorities need the state but the state does not need minorities,” but after a little research I found that Putin never actually said the statement in question (though he has echoed similar sentiments at other times). The page that originally posted the quote was an American far right group.

Ah, the irony.

Usually I refrain from commenting on such things, as I do not think Facebook or any other social media is the medium for an informed debate. With my comment, I did not intend to change this person’s mind. I think this is a mistake people often make. I am not one to shy away from debates and arguments, particularly about certain subjects, and many people take this readiness as a constant desire to change the opinions of those I disagree with. This is not my intention. While I may not agree with certain views, I respect the right to hold them.

My intention is to foster conversation. I wish to understand why people hold their views and, moreover, I wish for them to understand why they hold their views. I understand that I am young, and I find that many dismiss my opinions out of hand as brash or naïve. In some cases, they are even correct. However, I have thought long and hard about most of my beliefs, and there are concrete reasons why I argue certain ones so vehemently. When I argue them, my goal is to challenge people to question their own biases, even if I do not change their stance.

So, back to the argument at hand. I made a comment on the original post pointing out the apparent nonexistence of the exact quote and the irony of a heavily right wing page quoting modern Russia’s throwback to the Soviet Union. The conversation quickly spiralled out of control expanding from the original issue of “minorities” to cover Islam, Sharia Law, immigration, and what exactly constitutes “racism.”

At times, the debate became somewhat heated. It didn’t exactly end well.

The next day, people asked me why I bothered to argue, especially over Facebook. Some people found it amusing and laughed at the two of us. Mutual friends would tell me that’s “just how she is,” and that I was “wasting my time.”

Sorry, but that is bullshit.

I’m not naïve enough to believe I will change the opinion of this person, or anyone else I might argue with, over the internet or otherwise. As I said earlier, I debate to make people think. Not just the person I am arguing with, but also the people who may be watching.

It’s easy, particularly on the internet, to sit back and ignore things that have no direct effect on us. We might not agree with certain opinions (racist or otherwise), but to actively argue against them takes a lot of effort and causes a lot of unnecessary friction. Best just to remain silent.

I dispute that notion.

Silence desensitizes us. When we remain silent, we are accepting their behaviour in our own mind. If we constantly see bigotry and do nothing but shake our heads and sigh, even that response becomes too much effort. Next, we don’t even notice the bigotry, and soon we are complying without even a thought of opposing, often actively engaging in it without realizing.

This is history and psychology. How do you think Hitler was so successful at getting an entire country to ignore the atrocities he committed?

Silence is acceptance. When one hears a bigoted remark and says nothing, the bigots are told that hatred and intolerance are socially acceptable attitudes. Do these people have a right to hold their beliefs? Yes. Freedom of speech and freedom of thought are the cornerstone of all democracy. But having the right to a belief does not make it right. This is why it is crucial that we rally to dispute intolerant opinions: every time we remain silent, those voices become that much louder.

I’ve found that social media perpetuates this phenomenon. When information is easily packaged within a few lines of text with a flashy image next to it, few people go to the effort of fact checking or disputing negative opinions. The internet appeals to quick and easy answers, with little effort or thought.

Which brings me back to my original point: why I stand up against bigotry and intolerance even if I know I am never going to change the mind of the person I’m arguing with. Simply put, I don’t want to be another person who accepts that which I know is wrong. I want people to see me arguing, and see that opinions of ignorance and intolerance are not acceptable. It’s through silence and capitulation that we end up with Presidential candidates like Donald Trump, or geopolitical disasters such as Brexit.

Standing up for my beliefs isn’t easy. Often, I feel like I’m standing alone against a roomful of individuals. As a liberal living in Alberta, I often am.

But the issues I am talking about are not everyday politics, though we might like to think they are. I am not talking about taxes or fiscal policy, or even whether the government has the right to spy on us and monitor our communications.

I’m discussing issues that are, fundamentally, about human rights. I’m discussing discrimination based on race, sexuality, or countless other such excuses. All too often, many of us have a tendency to lump these issues into the humdrum of everyday politics, tying stances to political parties and speaking in abstractions. We forget that the discussion is about real people, many of whom have their very lives at stake.

I have no experience as the victim of discrimination. I do not understand what it is like to be profiled, judged, and hated based on the colour of my skin; I have never been forced to hold my tongue about my religious beliefs for fear of verbal or physical abuse. Many people are not so lucky.

The way I see it, that makes it all the more important that I stand up to intolerance. Yes, my life would be easier if I stood by quietly, shaking my head and doing little more. But the victims of discrimination, the people whose lives are destroyed by bigotry and intolerance, have no choice in the matter. Why should I have the option to remain silent?

We are all human. We all deserve a chance. I just happened to luck out as to which arbitrary borders I was born in and which particular pigments colour my skin. The same goes for just about anyone reading this piece. It is our responsibility to stand with those who don’t have the luxury of choosing their battles.

To those of you who tell me I shouldn’t bother arguing because “that’s just how they are,” I say no. As long as I see people supporting opinions that actively encourage discrimination and inequality, I will not stand idle. I will not sit silently when real people with real lives are at stake. If I can encourage even one person to reflect on their own views and maybe, just maybe, encourage them to stand with me, I will consider myself successful.

As always, thanks for reading!

Black Lives Matter because All Lives Matter

If a house is on fire and the firemen hose down that house, it doesn’t mean they care any less for the rest of the street; it means that the flames engulfing this particular house are a more pressing concern than the dry rot slowly eating the basement of its neighbour.

I can’t believe it needs saying, but Black Lives Matter because all lives matter. This particular group is getting attention right now because they need it. Just because we are focussing on the more pressing issue right now does not detract from other social issues, nor is the Black Lives Matter movement suggesting that we should not respect other ethnicities simply because the current focus is on aiding a group that is continually victimized.

The idea behind the All Lives Matter movement baffles me as much as the concept of “men’s rights” or “straight pride.” It is an undeniable fact that black people in America face discrimination that many other ethnicities (white or otherwise) do not. That isn’t to say that the trials other groups face are any less important. Rather, it is a matter of acuteness. With the recent high profile (but not out of the ordinary) killings of black men by police in America, and the equally horrific backlash against the officers in Dallas, this crisis has come to a head in ways reminiscent of the civil rights movement.

In light of the recent killings, I think there are two issues that need to be discussed. One is the obvious fact that black people are far more likely to be killed by police than white people, due to factors ranging from ignorance and profiling to outright racism. The other is the issue of police use of force.

This second issue is particularly intriguing, given that American police kill more people than any other western nation by a long shot.

Due to the nature of their society and the rigorous devotion many Americans have to the Second Amendment, it is understandable that cops in the U.S. face a different set of challenges from, say, the U.K., where guns are heavily restricted and the police go unarmed. However, even the gun-centric nature of American society doesn’t account for the disproportionate number of killings carried out by police. Indeed, simply calling the difference disproportionate is an understatement.

The Guardian’s database, The Counted, estimates that American police fatally shot the same number of people in the first 24 days of 2015 as British police shot in the past 24 years.

Just let that sink in for a moment.

In many instances, the use of lethal force is certainly justified, whether to protect the public or the officers themselves. And it is understandable that, sometimes, officers make mistakes. They are, after all, human beings. I have the utmost respect for anyone who goes into police work, putting their own bodies on the line to protect their communities. They see the worst of society: the mangled bodies of car crash victims, abused children, victims of sexual assault. I respect anyone who chooses to go into that line of work. I know I couldn’t.

However, that respect does not extend to a blind refusal to criticize.

In the United States, citizens that people trust to protect and defend them kill almost 100 people every month. Police officers in all countries need to be held to a higher standard. By allowing police officers to carry guns, we, as citizens (of America, Canada, or anywhere else), are giving the state the means to murder us. Policing is the only profession in which people are allowed to kill their fellow citizens as part of their job.

Isn’t it fair that we ask them to be damn sure they are justified in doing so?

Police need to be taught to think beyond the gun belt, especially when operating in places where a citizen can legally carry a concealed firearm with no ill intent. It must be ingrained into police officers that lethal force is a last resort, that drawing one’s gun is not the appropriate response for every kind of threat. Alternatives to firearms such as Tasers and pepper spray need to be used more consistently. Police officers must be taught to respond with equal force to that which they are facing, no more and no less. Officers need to constantly attempt to deescalate situations, resorting to the minimum amount of force necessary to protect themselves and the public.

This is not an easy thing. Police officers are trained to expect threats, and their reactions are often instinctual. Unfortunately, difficulty is not an excuse to avoid change. Despite the fact that most cops are generally decent people who do their job to the best of their abilities, continual efforts must be made to ensure that all cops are held to a higher standard. When mistakes are made, they can be, and often are, fatal.

The mistakes of police officers become all the more important when a specific minority group is disproportionately the victim in such incidents. As the state’s wielders of lethal force, police officers need to be trained to understand and avoid their own unconscious biases (and the biases of the society they represent). The fact that armed or unarmed black men are often the victims of excessive force is suggestive of that society’s wider tendency to profile and discriminate, and does not reflect the impartiality that police officers are supposed to exhibit. Police officers are who we look to for an example. They represent the laws we are all bound by. They must be the best of us.

I doubt that the killers of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile were consciously racist, or that they intentionally murdered black men. They perceived threats to themselves and simply reacted as their training and unconscious biases dictated. Herein lies the issue: police in all countries, particularly America, must develop a standard that emphasises the reality of situations over perception. Tragedies like those of the past week must be avoided at all costs.

No system will ever be perfect, but perfection is what we must strive for; mistakes will always be made, but we cannot simply abandon trying to prevent them.

Police officers are human beings. Does that mean that easily preventable, often fatal, mistakes should be ignored? No. Police officers are our protectors and our examples, carrying the power to end our lives should it be necessary. These are heavy responsibilities. Is it so much to ask that only the strongest of us be allowed to bear those responsibilities? 

Odd fiction

So I recently wrote a piece of short fiction inspired by a conversation with a friend, where one of us said something about "living at the bottom of a cereal box." We sort of both paused and looked at one another, and then she said, "That would make a good story."

So I wrote a story about a child who lives at the bottom of a cereal box.

It's as bizarre as it sounds, but I'm inclined to think it isn't terrible, though it certainly isn't for everyone. It's very short, and doesn't have a conventional plot. However, I'd really love some feedback on this, so give it a quick read and let me know what you think :)

Untitled

This is a story about a child who lived at the bottom of a cereal box.

This child’s name is Samuel, and one can see from the start that Samuel’s story is hardly typical, not in the least because its conclusion has yet to be reached.

You see, most stories begin after the fact. They are a recounting of events past. Samuel’s story is ongoing, and shall be for quite some time.

Right this second, Samuel sits at the bottom of his cereal box. Where the cereal box is, he does not know. He has a vague understanding of where such items end up, but he can never be sure so long as he lives inside the box.

He remembers the children in the factory where he came from, his friends before they were packaged and placed in their own boxes. They always did wonder what would happen once they were placed in their boxes. Samuel remembers the stories they told about the big people who took the cereal boxes into their homes and would collect the children from their cardboard bottoms.

This frightens Samuel. He does not wish to be collected from the bottom of his cereal box. It is a simple, safe place. There is the occasional jostling and shaking, and sometimes he thinks he can hear voices coming from the other side of his box’s wall, but it is an otherwise peaceful existence. Some children are scared by their boxes, by the dark and the oppressive boundaries of their homes, longing for the freedom and possibility of the outside world. But not Samuel. Samuel is a simple fellow, and a simple life holds the most appeal to him.

Hence his fear.

What will he do when the day comes that his simple life is interrupted? He has never experienced the world before, and he would prefer to keep it that way. His friends in the factory always did tell stories of the outside world. Of course, none of them had ever experienced it firsthand; all cereal box children go straight from the confines of the factory to the safe darkness of their cereal boxes. Yet the fact remains that the world has always seemed to Samuel a scary place.

They say that some cereal box children find happiness in the world, when the big people free them into the light. Some big people cherish and love their cereal box children, embracing them and helping them face the terrifyingly boundless new world beyond their safe havens. This thought is intimidating, but it does not frighten Samuel.

What frightens him are the other stories he hears, of children being left and forgotten, stolen from the safety of their boxes only to be tossed aside when the big people grow bored. As Samuel now sits in his box, wondering if he can hear voices on the other side of his wall, he remembers these stories and fights back tears. He must be strong.

The balancing of safety with freedom is one of life’s great paradoxes. As comfortable as Samuel’s cereal box may be, it is indeed a prison. One cannot experience life from the confines of a cereal box, however cozy that box may be.

Samuel does not understand this truth. All that the poor cereal box child can understand is the fear as his world is shaken and voices come from above.

Will he be cherished, in the open world, he wonders? Will his big person care for him, or will he be discarded, as he has heard so many are?

He sees a light above, the outside world seeping in. Samuel is scared.

This is not the end of his story.

Only a page break.