It Was All Good Just A Month Ago…

So…I have put off this post for a little while, but after the events of this past weekend, I felt that it needed to be done.

The summer of 2011 (more specifically July 24th – present) blows.

I’ll admit, I’ve never been the most…optimistic person in the world. I tend to think that when one negative thing occurs, the world is falling on my head. I’ve always been that way, and I have grown used to it. But this past 3 1/2 weeks has told me that either someone up there hates me, or I have done a LOT of fucked up things in my past, and now I’m paying for all of them at one time.

It all started on July 24th. I was playing beer pong with RJ at his house, and then my cell phone rang. At first, I didn’t want to answer it, but something told me that I should. It was my mom. She told me that my father had died. At first, I didn’t know how to respond. I just told her ‘ok’ and went back to my beer pong game. It wasn’t until we finished the game that it hit me….reality. I would never be able to cultivate any type of relationship with the other half that created me.

(As a little bit of a backstory for those that didn’t know: my father was never in my life. Never a phone call on my birthday, never a ‘congrats’ when I did something good; the last time I saw him alive, I broke his nose out of anger. No words spoken. In the time from when I was born until the last time I saw him, he raised 3 children, and was a presence in the life of 5 grandchildren.)

I sat there on the couch, and I broke down crying. In some far away part of my mind, I wished that my father and I could have some sort of relationship at some port. I thought that I would have the chance to grow past my anger for him, and try to look past all of his bullshit from before, and have a father. And just like that…that opportunity was taken from me. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I couldn’t even rub it in his face that I had become successful (whenever that day came) without his help, because he was no longer….there.

The next day, I decided to go to work, even though I probably should have taken a day or two off. Everything seemed fine (situation notwithstanding), until I turned down the street close to my job. Next thing I remember, I have paramedics all around me, and I am being taken to the ER. I apparently had a seizure behind the wheel, and ended up crashing into two parked cars. Luckily, I didn’t hurt anyone, but I did major damage to the cars that I hit, and the car that I was driving was a total loss. I figured it couldn’t get any worse.

I was wrong.

The next week, me, my mother, and my best friend RJ all went to the Bay Area for my fathers funeral. I was hesitant to go, because I hadn’t seen ANY of these people since I was maybe 2 years old (except for my siblings and their kids). But I had my support group, so things should have been ok….

…..until no one there knew who I was. While in the viewing for the funeral, my Grandmother went and sat down next to RJ, hugged him, and told him it was so good to see him, it had been so long, etc. He told her that he wasn’t Jamaal, and that I was sitting in the pew behind them. After the viewing, there was a dinner, and my uncle also went up to RJ, saying how long it had been since he saw me, calling him “Little James” (which apparently was the nickname they called me when I was little, until my little brother, James, came along). It was almost humiliating.

During the day, they were playing a DVD that was put together for him, including pictures of his kids, grandkids, siblings, etc. Whose picture was the first one that they showed? Yea, it was mine. But what was the worst part? ALL of my pictures, they pulled from Facebook. Never did they contact me and ask if I wanted to donate some pictures….they just pulled them off of a fucking social networking website. But still, I was willing to look past it.

At this point, I only have one regret about going up there….I couldn’t look at him. While he was in the casket, I could only focus on his hands. I refused to look at his face. I knew that if I did, I would break down, and I didn’t want to give him or those people who refused to acknowledge my existence previously the satisfaction in knowing that I was just as affected as they were. I just couldn’t. I left the Bay Area with all of my pain still  inside, with no release…..

Until the day after we returned. We got back to Orange County on a Friday night, and that Saturday, some friends invited me and RJ over for a birthday celebration/all night drink-a-thon. Of course, instead of talking about what I was going through, I decided to drink until I forgot everything. This wasn’t just run of the mill, lets-get-drunk drinking….this was ‘Jamaal-gets-belligerent drunk’. Beer, Jameson, Sailor Jerry, Johnny Walker Black (all straight)….they were all running through my system before 11pm that night. When it came time to leave, I climbed into the passenger seat of the car, and almost passed out….until I saw the police lights. The cop pulled us over, thinking that the driver was drunk (they only blew a .06), so it appeared that the cop was pissed and wanted to take it out on me. He wanted to administer a blow test to me. I fought it, telling him that there was no reason for me to take it, yet he stated that he needed to give me the test to ‘ensure that I was in driving condition in case the situation arises.’ I blew a .21, almost three times the legal limit. Guess who got a DUI for being a DRUNK PASSENGER?! Yup. Could it get any better?

Yes it can. This past Saturday morning, I was driving home from a friends place, and what happens? I have ANOTHER seizure, while driving. This time, I smash into a light pole, totally destroying the car that I had just purchased less than two weeks prior. I couldn’t believe it. All of this, in a three week span? Couldn’t some of it be spread out….just a little bit?

Today, I stayed home, and laid on my couch the entire day, evaluating. Trying to find a bit, just a little bit of positive in the last 3 1/2 weeks, and I have yet to find it. The Jamaal of last year would have already found a reason to run away, end up somewhere far away from here. But now? I can’t do that. All I can do is face the issue….but I don’t want to. I know that I have certain people who are there for me, but I still feel so….alone. I don’t have that one person who can relate to me….only people who can apologize for what I’m going through. I’m the sorry one; I don’t need anyone else to be sorry. I want someone who can tell me who they moved forward, and what I can do to try and do the same thing.

I’m supposed to be the strong one…but when one thing after another falls on my shoulders, it’s hard to be the one that continues to stand.

Digging in the Crates

I love finding old stuff I wrote….here’s one I found last night in a notebook

Each morning I wake up fighting it
Like a boxer trying to survive the final round
Just when I feel like I’m going to make it
I find myself embracing the ground
My loneliness has knocked me on my ass
Each day, getting up is harder than days past
I thought we had the possibility of forever
But it seems that only the pain will last
Every breath feels like my final one
Part of me welcomes the forthcoming end
I wish I could rewind my life
To stop this love affair before it begins
Crying is an exercise in futility
All it does is magnify the pain
Its like the world is basking in eternal sunshine
While I’m stuck in torrential rain
What’s strange is that I miss you more every day
Even though you shattered everything I previously was
At night I say in bed, longing
For another taste of your love
All I want is just one morning
Free from the struggle and fight
But I don’t have mornings like that anymore
Without you, nothing feels right

My Outlook Is Better Than Yours

Starting over is difficult, no matter what the situation is. New city, new job…hell, I restarted this blog twice already. Realizing that you have to start at the beginning is a tough reality to come to grips with, but it helps when you think you have people who are going through the same type of thing you are.

In February, I started my job. I saw it as not only an opportunity to get start working in the city that I had just relocated to, but also as a chance to meet new people, and maybe develop some friendships along the way. For the most part, I succeeded; I’ve met a few people who I really get along with, and who I enjoy spending time with. There was one person in particular, however, who I really thought that I had hit it off with. We were both new to the area, both going through some troubling times in relationships, and both had similar interests. This person would come to me when she wanted advice about how to handle the issues she was having with her fiancee, and I would tell her about the issues I was having with whatever was troubling me at the time. We would have group outings, where a bunch of us would go to happy hour, bowling, etc. Overall, it was a pretty good setup. Didn’t seem to be any issues.

….Until about a month ago. I decided that I didn’t want to be associated with that group of people anymore, because they liked to do a lot of gossiping. I told them that I wasn’t interested in bad mouthing other people at work, and I didn’t want to spend all my time complaining about things that I had no control over. So I ended up making some new friends at work. These new friends had been there a little longer, so they knew how the game was played in my office. One of them, in particular, was the target of much of the vitriol that the initial group was spewing. They didn’t like this girl because she wasn’t the type to try and be friendly with everyone. She went about her business, and if she didn’t have any reason to associate with you, she didn’t. She and I hit it off immediately. The more she and I talked, and became friends, the more the other group (specifically the girl) seemed to get jealous/upset. Dirty looks were all of a sudden being sent our way; whispering under their breath seemed to be the only way they communicated when we were around…it felt like Jr. High all over again, when you found out who was saying negative things about you in those slam books. I just chalked it all up as workplace politics, and didn’t really care about the way things were going.

Then, randomly, on Wednesday, I get called into the HR department. I was a little shook, to be honest. I have never been called into the HR department at any job in my life. When I sat down, I was told that ‘I may have been a witness in an incident, and they wanted my story.’ Turns out, the person who began as my friend was so upset about the way she had been excommunicated that she went to HR and made up a number of stories about supposed conversations that she and I had. She said that I was e-mailing her things that were graphic in nature (both sexual and descriptive), and that it made her very uncomfortable. When the HR department asked her if she had any copies of these e-mails, she stated that she deleted them once she received them, for fear that if the IT department were to randomly go through our e-mail, they would think she was participating (and welcoming) these types of conversations. She went on to say that this new person that I became close friends with would frequently give her dirty looks, and that I must have said something that would cause this person to be spiteful toward her.

I sat in that HR office dumbfounded. For about two minutes, I didn’t speak. I continued to laugh to myself, wondering how someone could act so immature, just because I had no desire to interact with them. I was seriously scared for my job, but worse, scared for how I might react if I saw this person again. But then it hit me….I never delete anything. In my personal gmail e-mail, I still have e-mails from 2006. I hate going through e-mails and deleting them. Same with work e-mail. You never know when a small bit of information may end up being big. I brought this to the attention of the HR department, telling them that I have EVERY single piece of correspondence that she and I have ever had, still in my Outlook inbox. They advised me that they would pull all of the paperwork, and sure enough, they did. It was found that everything she was accusing me off, all of the gossiping that she was doing, and my subsequent removal from their clique was all documented. She was called back into HR, and informed that they pulled all of our e-mail conversations. Before they could continue with what they found, she turned in her resignation.

What would cause a person to do this? Instead of speaking to me about whatever issues you may have, why would you try to force someone else to lose their job, and possibly jeopardize yours? Is the loss of a ‘friend’ really that important to you? Now you are out of a job, you’ve slandered me, and even though they say there is a ‘No Retaliation Clause’, how do I know this isn’t something that could come up at some point in time? This isn’t a bridge that I burned, but it’s definitely nothing but ashes.

In the last couple of days, the accuser has attempted to call me, left a number of messages on my voicemail, asking to voice her side of the story. I’m not even remotely interested in trying to hear what she has to say. This is just another reason why I choose not to let too many people into my inner circle. The more you try to trust people, the more you realize you can’t.

An Admission of…??

One of the things that I have noticed I have a difficult time with is admissions. Admitting anything is a task that seems to gnaw at me; I never want to admit anything. I thought that by ignoring the fact that I had come to some sort of conclusion, it would go away. It was almost as if I believed that the ghost would disappear if I shut my eyes tight enough. It was a paranoia that people would judge me once they found out what it was that I was afraid of admitting.

There are different types of admissions, I have found, but they all seem to elicit the exact same response in me: fear. Guilt seems to be the emotion most people associate with admissions. Whenever a person is told ‘I have something that I want to admit to you’, their immediate response is that they are about to be told something that they aren’t going to like. Whomever it is that needs to admit something has done a deed that is either unforgivable, hurtful, or some other combination. Rarely is the reaction of the listener one of hopeful intrigue. In most cases, the listener has already started to run the gauntlet of reasons that this person needs to ‘admit’ something to them in their own minds.

The type of admission I seem to have the most trouble with, however, is admissions that I need to come to terms with myself. The most difficult person to admit anything to is you. This is something that I have experienced on more than one occasion.

I am my most disparaging critic. Admitting anything to myself, good or bad, is admitting that I was doing something incorrectly. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that you have the right answer, but you don’t want to bring it into the light, only because it will put everything else you have done up to that point into the dark. It’s one of the few instances when a person has an internal struggle, and secretly they are hoping that the negative side wins, only so the way that they have lived their lives in regard to this situation doesn’t have to change. Recently, I have been going through this type of internal tug of war.

It’s simple to feign interest in another person. Pretending to like someone seems to be a talent that we are all taught growing up. How many of us have been told by parents that we have to be nice to the kid next door, because he doesn’t have friends? As you grow older, you learn to cultivate this ‘skill’ into a manipulation; you learn to pretend to admire someone, only so that you can get whatever your desired end result is. Some of us have become so good at this manipulation, we turn it on and off without it even registering to us anymore. But what happens when you realize that you are no longer acting, and the affection that you feel toward a person is genuine? How do you admit that to yourself?

Which do you trust more: instincts or heart? What if both of these entities are split, so instead of listening to two sides, you are listening to four? Instinctively, on one hand, you feel that you should leave; on the other, however, you know that if you did, it would be something that you would regret. One half of your heart is telling you that this is the best situation for you; the one that you always said deep down that you wanted. The other half is telling you that you need to be protective and guard yourself, because the past always seems to reincarnate itself when it comes to matters of love. At any given point, you could have a mixture of these four things playing ping pong with your emotions.

Why is it so hard to admit to myself that I actually have these feelings for someone? Initially, I thought it was the fear of her reaction. I feared that maybe, after me telling her how I felt, that she would inform me that she did not feel the same way. I thought that would be the ultimate form of rejection. It wasn’t until one night that I couldn’t get her out of my mind that it dawned on me: I wasn’t afraid of her rejection. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to give her what I felt that she deserved. I didn’t want to admit my feelings because I didn’t want to admit to myself that there was a possibility that I wasn’t good enough for her. With people in the past, I would do things to get them to be satisfied; with her, I did them because I wanted to make her happy. The divide between those two cliffs is vast. You can have satisfaction without happiness, but it is impossible to have happiness without satisfaction. Admitting that these feelings that I tried to suppress were real was a task that I wasn’t sure I could handle. Outwardly there is an aura of confidence, and of strength. But deep inside, I am just another person who doesn’t want to admit something to himself.

I said earlier that when admitting something, it is almost as if you are saying that your actions previously were wrong. With her, none of my actions were wrong; they were misguided. Before, my actions were for me to try and make her smile. It wasn’t until recently that my actions needed to be geared so that, when she is with me, she would have no reason to think about doing anything other than smile. And while I may not succeed at that 100% of the time, I can admit to myself -and to her -that these feelings are genuine

Birthday Reflections

It’s that time of the year again. Every year, around the same time, the same thing happens. I start to reflect. Yup. It’s birthday time again.

This year, I will be 27. Wow. Its kind of scary just to say. 27 years old. Three years away from 30. It seems like yesterday I was walking around, combing my afro (every once in a while), and thought I had the entire world ahead of me. College was around the corner, and I would have FOREVER before I reached 30. Now? It’s just three years away.

I can admit, this reflection is a little better than my previous attempts at putting my life into perspective. At 25, it was kind of morbid. I was afraid of being the old guy at the bar. But at 27, after the year that I have had, things all seem like there is sun around the bend for me.

In the last year, I moved into my own place (no roommate), moved across the country, moved to San Diego, and taken on a large family responsibility. I have eliminated a bunch of people from my life who were not necessary, and added a few people who I think will have a lasting impact on me. Overall, I am happy with where I am. So why does it seem like I am still running in the same place?

When I try to think about what I have done over the past 365 days, it feels like I have done a lot of progressing. I have grown as a person, as a friend, and as a partner. No longer do I let the trials and tribulations of life get me down; I just take them as they come and try to figure out a way to better the situation. My seizure condition appears to have finally regressed a bit (knock on wood), and it did so without the assistance of medication. I think it was the change in lifestyle (not drinking every day to soak the pain away), finally making a concerted effort to improving my health, and learning not to stress all the time (something I am still battling with). Yet still, when I try and put a finger on something definite, which shows that I am maturing along with my age, like a family, or a career (not just a job), I still feel like I am 25, and I don’t see an opportunity for that to change.

I’m still at that point where I am not sure what it is that I want to do with my life. Sometimes I feel like I want to get into a profession where I am helping people; other times I want to be behind the scenes, without all of the face time that comes with certain positions. I’m still not sure if California is the place where I want to grow old. I spent three months in the state of Maine, and realized that I enjoyed the small time feel of the town I lived in. I liked experiencing seasons (even though I was only there for the end of one and the beginning of another).

There are still way more questions than there are answers.

So what do I do going forward? Should I make an outline of the path I want my life to take from here? Should I just leave it to fate, and take whatever comes? Or should it be a mix of both: have a generic outline, but leave holes at certain points, so that there is room for revision?

Overall, I am happy where I am in my life. Each day that I wake up now, I don’t dread the coming day. I look forward to what the day may bring to me. If it ends up being negative, I accept it for what it is, and don’t worry about what could have been. I am learning how to no longer ask ‘What if?’ Instead, I enjoy the moments that I had, and chalk it up as a lesson learned. Jamaal at age 25 wouldn’t have known how to do that. Jamaal at 27 appreciates that he has had the opportunities to learn how to do that.

One thing that I realized that I don’t do so much anymore is question my purpose here. Every once in a while, I may question why I am in a particular person’s life, or what it is that they want from me, but my presence as a whole is no longer something for me to ponder on. I know what I am here for. It’s a strange, but rewarding feeling to understand what your purpose is. I’m not quite ready to share that purpose yet, but that’s only because I am still trying to get comfortable with it. I just know that my purpose is one that I am looking forward to fulfilling every day that I have left here.

Now, a little bit of the sensitive stuff. Usually, every few months or so I take some time to let certain people know how appreciative I am of them. I either dedicate a Valentine’s Day blog to them (like I did to my three Valentine’s this year), or I will do an emotion filled, sappy blog explaining how much I love and value their friendships. Not this year. This time, I’m not naming specific names. I’m making a blanket statement to the people who are important to me. To those people who know that I would do anything in my power for them if they ask. This is also for those who, at some point in time, I have spoken to directly and let them know how special they are to me. If you feel that you don’t fall into any of those different categories, then maybe you need to re-evaluate your status with me and my status with you.

I love you guys. You guys are the only people that I feel, through thick and thin, I can turn to and you will be there for me when I need you. Each of you has made a mark on my life in your own special way, and there is no way that mark can ever be replaced or duplicated. There are times when it feels as if my heart has either skipped a beat, or that it is going to explode. Previously, this feeling scared the crap out of me. I thought maybe I had an irregular heartbeat or something (wouldn’t surprise me with all of the health issues I have, haha). But it wasn’t until recently that I figured out what that feeling was: it was my heart expanding, making room for the addition of each one of you. My heart knew that each of you deserves a large part of it, and that none of you should be shortchanged, so it decided to grow. Expressing my love for each of you has been the greatest workout for my heart, and it has allowed it to become the strongest muscle in my body. As long as you are in my life, I promise that you will ALWAYS have a piece of my love that no one else can infringe on. Each of you is a one of one…that means that there were none before you, and none to come. If something were to happen to me today, I know that I could move on with the same amount of love and adoration from each of you that I have for you. I may not be the best at always staying in touch, or expressing in detail your importance in my life, but know that there is no one in the world I would want in your place, but you. Each of you is the reason why I have started to look forward instead of backward; the reason why I am happier now than I have been in years. Thank you all.

 

Jamaal 

Unappreciated

I am tired of feeling underappreciated. Maybe its my fault. Maybe I care so much about making other people happy, I expect that every once in a while those people would want to make me feel the same way. Maybe I put too much faith into other people.

I woke up this morning with a weird feeling; one I hadn’t had in a long time. I felt…insignificant. And I don’t know why. I didn’t have any bad dreams that I could remember. There were no arguments with anyone that ended with hurt feelings or damaging revelations. For all intents and purposes, I had a good Wednesday night. But for some reason, when Thursday morning rolled around, I felt miniscule. Even while writing these words, I still have that same feeling. And its driving me crazy.

I’m starting to question the motives of everyone that is in my life. I find myself wondering why they choose to be there. What are they trying to gain? Do they keep me around for emotional support? Am I just a pawn for them to play with when they need entertainment? Is it out of pity that they continue to associate with me?

I like to go above and beyond for certain people. I consider myself to be a hard person. It takes a lot to get me to care about you. But I open up and let you in, I would do almost anything in my power to be sure that you are happy/comfortable/satisfied, or whatever other emotion you want to feel. It makes me feel good to know that I can do that for someone I care about. But looking back on things, it seems like very few people actually appreciate it; in fact, it seems like they almost expect it from me now, and are disappointed when the end result isn’t what they were hoping for. It went from ‘thank you so much for trying’ to ‘that’s it?’ And since I am not the confrontational type, I just swallow all of the negativity, allowing it to fester inside of me until I wake up one morning, feeling the way I feel today.

There is a lyric in a song that I like, and it goes: “Missed calls replaced the rose petal covered floors”. That’s a perfect description of how I feel that most of my interactions with people have gone recently. They no longer feel special that I am going out of my way; now they feel entitled. And I feel used. The hard part is that inside, I am saying all of the things that I should be telling them, but on the outside I am just normal old Jamaal, smiling, and trying harder and going out of my way more to make up for the disappointment that the other party is feeling.

The image of a comedian who is bombing on stage comes to mind. He can see that the crowd isn’t enjoying his set, so he tries harder to come up with a new routine on the fly, to try and get the response he was hoping for when he first walked on stage. But inside, he’s dying. Those people in the crowd don’t understand the lengths that the comic went through -writing material, organizing it – to try and bring them happiness, however brief it may be. And the crowd doesn’t want to understand that; they just want to be made to laugh. Its an expectation. Its rare that you find someone in the crowd who appreciates the effort, and can express that appreciation for the comedian. This morning, I felt like a bombing comedian, and almost everyone in my life that matters to me was the crowd, expecting their laugh, not appreciating my efforts.

Scre4m? Not Even A Whimper!

April 15^th, 2011. This day will forever be remembered as the day that the cinema world lost a legend. On this date, the reign of Wes Craven as being a horror movie genius was put to rest. On April 15^th, 2011, Scre4m was released.

 Like many people my age, I remember being utterly terrified when the original Scream movie was released. It wasn’t filled with cheesy special effects or unbelievable plot lines; it was a genuine horror movie. It was filled with elements that seemed so real, and moments that made you shutter when you realized that it could happen to you. Even if it were subconscious, you would hesitate before answering your phone, afraid that maybe Ghostface was on the other end. The movie turned a simple ice breaker (“What’s your favorite scary movie?”) into an iconic phrase that would send chills up and down the normal person’s spine. To call the original Scream movie a classic would be an understatement.

 As with all other great films, we all knew that sequels were soon to follow. Scream 2, while not as impressive, was still an entertaining film. Scream 3 didn’t have anywhere close to the appeal as its predecessors, and everyone felt that it would be a good idea to end it there, before the movies became caricatures of themselves, much like the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise was turned into. But, lo and behold, 11 years after the last film was released, theaters were packed at midnight to view the lastest installment of this once proud franchise.

 My expectations were not high for this movie. I have never been a fan of continuing movie franchises, especially when the plots seem to get more and more out of touch with reality. But still, I found myself in the theater at midnight, somewhat anticipating a decent movie. From the opening scene, I knew I was in for a long night.

 It seemed as if the entire point of this movie was to poke fun at the horror film genre as a whole. Every stereotype you could think of was included in this film, from the busty blond to the inept police officers. While sitting through the movie, I found myself asking the same question over and over: “Is this SUPPOSED to be a spoof film?” it reminded me a little of the Scary Movie franchise, with the only difference being that Scre4m was trying to be a real horror film.

 The core of the original films were all included in this movie, including Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell), Dewey Riley (David Arquette) and Gail Weathers (Courtney Cox-Arquette). The story takes place when Sidney returns back to Woodsboro, ten years after the original killings, to promote her book. Gail Weathers, once a promising television journalist, gave up the big city life so that she could marry Dewey, who was now promoted to Sheriff of Woodsboro. Sure enough, as Sidney returns home on the anniversary of the slayings, someone starts killing all over again.

 This movie tries to inject some new blood, in the form of Sidney’s neice Jill (Emma Roberts), and her friend Jill (Hayden Panettiere), as well as a plethora of other teenaged characters. It also seems to think that, since we are quickly becoming a social networking/computer based society, that they need to force every type of reference down our throats. Twitter, Facebook, and webcams all make appearances in this movie, and they arent subtle about it.

 The teenagers in the film quickly realize that all of the murders that are occurring in their town are following the same “script” as the original Woodsboro massacres, and that the only way to survive is to remember what happened the first time around, and then do something completely opposite. Every character made it seem as if they were INSIDE of a movie, and they learned their survival skills from watching OTHER movies. Confused? So was I.

 Many of the characters were completely forgettable, and as you watch Courtney Cox-Arquette try to hold on to whatever sliver of fame she still has left, it’s a sad reminder of what happens to people who were part of an ensemble cast: the individual is nowhere as impressive as the sum all the parts combined. With her ‘witty’ one-liners and faux toughness, it made me question if she owed Wes Craven a favor, and that was the reason she agreed to do this movie. Neve Campbell still looks as if she is staring directly into the sun whenever she is on camera; as for David Arquette…well, he’s David Arquette. Not much else needs to be said about him.

 The movie seems to drag on, and I think that, instead of including the alternate endings in the DVD release, the producers opted to incorporate all of them into the movie, making the final scenes seem rushed, disjointed, and utterly stupid. Sidney even makes a snide comment about it, saying to the killer, “Things don’t always go like you planned. Its called an alternate ending.”

 In the end, I was amazed at the uselessness of this movie. At no point is it scary, and its so rediculous that you almost can’t justify even laughing. If the Scream franchise was a meal at a restaurant, Scre4m would be the parsley on your plate; you ignore it and quickly try to find a way to get rid of it. The hardest thing for me to stomach during the entire movie was the fact that Wes Craven directed it. In my heart of hearts, I could not figure out how he could be so against the remake of Nightmare on Elm Street in 2010, yet, he was more than willing to direct this sad excuse for a ‘horror’ movie.

 For horror movie fans like me, today feels like we have lost a legend. There can only be one Wes Craven; sadly, we can’t say the same thing for the Scream movie franchise. Out of five stars, this one gets one and a half.

Untitled

His voice came out in a tremble

Almost like he never learned to speak

Standing in front of her, his palms were sweaty

And his legs felt tender and weak

This was the moment he was waiting for

He finally got his chance

But he couldn’t find the words to say

He wished he could say it with just a glance

A nervous smile spread across his face

As he wiped the sweat from his brow

In his he was thinking “I better do it”

There was no better time than now

All the build up had led to this

It was his shining moment in the sun

The first word “I…”stumbled from his lips

And instantly he felt the desire to run

But out of nowhere came a sudden burst of energy

And he lifted his head to meet her gaze

While everything behind her was blurry

By her beauty he was no longer fazed

He leaned in to kiss her cheek

And gently caressed her face with his hand

He closed his eyes tightly, and with no hesitation

Told her “I….can no longer be your man”