Projector

June 16, 2012

a silent man adjusts
torn ribbons
rolling on and on

like the battery rabbit
with his drum–
dadum-dadum-dadum.

light flickers.
wings on fingers,
promenading hooves.

life blood in black and white.
all thought pouring
into a screen–

distorted filters.
a silent film, flashes
of a life unknown.

© paz

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May 27, 2012

Thank you for sharing this Sailor. Made me laugh. This is one of my favorite childhood movies! It took me a dozen views to realize the giant dog is actually a DRAGON! (I’m a little slow sometimes.) And the part when Artax dies is so sad, but even then I didn’t cry, even if I wanted to because I was “THE MEAN CHALLENGER!” Actually, I might have cried just a little. I mean Atreyu’s horse dying is just too sad. Any horse dying is just too sad. And is it just me, or is the “NOTHINGNESS” that takes over the land, that Atreyu and Bastian and all the other creatures have to conquer a pretty deep metaphor? I always took it as those feelings of emptiness, inadequacy, lack of compassion, etc. Damn, sorry, overanalyzing; maybe it’s the film student in me. Ugh, I want my own Falkor too!

You know you’re borderline when you can not only relate to a comic book character that has of-the-charts anger management issues, but you suddenly feel deeply connected to this character as though he may be your long lost soul mate.

You wish he were real even, because then you wouldn’t feel so damn lonely. You imagine that the two of you would make the best of friends, so long as you’re a good dozen kilometers distance from each other when one of you ill perceives, imagines or exaggerates a slight and transforms in a fit of rage.

And you then imagine that the two of you, best mental friends forever (BMFF), would be able to stroll down Central Park sit down on a park bench and laugh and laugh and then SUDDENLY cry together, a long, hard cry.

As you sit there crying with Bruce, Bruce crying with you, Dr. Bruce Banner-Hulk suddenly hugs you and you hug him back, gripping tighter. And between sobs and drools, you cradle Bruce’s head, begin to stroke his hair and spit out, “I know man, I know what it’s like. I know exactly how it feels to wake up naked after a rage and feel confused and lost, not really remembering what happened, not knowing where the hell your clothes went or where the hell you are or if you’re still you or that dreaded other. I know Brucito querido. I know, oh dear god I do… And when you tell them not to push you there, not to take you back to that place you’d left because you fear you’ll loose control again if you go, fear what can happen if you abandon your new-found zen, you say, ‘DON’T, PLEASE‘. But you’re shoved inside a room, shoved between the wall and the Black Widow and her gun. Her tantalizing eyes intoxicate you and pierce your soul. Funny, because NOTHING can pierce you! Not even bullets! Not even the fire of bombs or radiation or torpedos! You say, ‘Please don’t. I’m done with that shit. Fuck off! I’m not going back there. I’m not allowing myself to go back to that level of rage. I’ve left all of that behind.’  You plead so much because you fear the other too, more than they do. See you’ve even tried to KILL the other, too keep him back at bay but he is YOU and he will NOT let YOU kill HIM  because your’re always angry anyway you say; you’ve merely learned to teeter on the edge of anger, learned to deal with that, to let the currents of anger swish you like seaweed swishes in the crystal blue. And then, SUDDENLY, it’s too late. You think you had it in your palm but the anger grows too big to hold: it takes control. POP POP–your muscles tighten; your veins flood; your fingers curl, only they’re more like claws than fingers now, and your bones pop. Everything swells! And you find yourself naked again, shaking your head in dismay, shivering body, fearing what you’ve done, hating yourself! Hating what you’d become even if only for a moment! So when everything around you begins to come back into focus, you grab the nearest person and demand, ‘Did I SMASH anything? What did I SMASH? Was it WORTH SMASHING? What happened? Answer me! Please!’ I know. Yo lo se querido Brucito… yo lo entiendo…”

This is exactly what comes to mind when I think of the Hulk as seen in the latest film adaptation of The Avengers, released this weekend but long overdue, anticipated for over five years.

The Avengers

A Brief Review and a Character Study

(minor spoiler alert)

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 Joss Whedon, screenwriter/director, did it right! Whedon pulled off a REAL believable non-cartoon, no bullshit Hulk in The Avengers (2012), what director Ang Lee’s disproportional body-to-head, Eric Bana-faced Hulk (2003) failed to do while flying across the Rockies and being shot by jet missles; what Edward Norton was left hiding in shame from in Louis Leterrier’s 2008 Hulk–ugh, and his overuse of the clichéd one liner, “Hulk SMASH!”

Yes, WE KNOW the Hulk SMASHES. It’s what the Hulk fuckin’ does! We get it! Thank you Joss Whedon for not having Mark Ruffalo or his animated counterpart speak such ugly words, not even once throughout the film. Thank you for handing that down to Captain America, who towards the beginning of the last, epic fighting scene turns to Hulk and says, “Hulk, you can smash now!” That’s how you slip those words in, by handing them over to another character: it builds irony.

In fact, thank you for not having Hulk speak at all with the exception of growls, screaming and that one time  when he finds Loki in Tony Stark/Iron Man’s mansion and Loki’s mocks him by calling him a brute and claiming, “I am a GOD”. Only then does Hulk reply with a quick smashing and a, “Yeah, a puny god” remark. This should be taken as a serious lesson: DO NOT INVALIDATE or UNDERVALUE HULK FOR HE IS BORDERLINE.

So thank you once again Joss Whedon for keeping Hulk’s angry vocabulary nearly absent while maintaining a complex character. Bruce Banner’s “I am calm” and “I am ok” vocabulary is layered and intelligent. Ruffalo does an excellent job of charming the audience almost as much as the charismatic Robert Downey Jr.

This is the thing, Whedon aims to excite and entertain us with bombs and explosions à la Michael Bay style–and that’s what summer blockbusters do, that’s how they still manage to cash in–BUT unlike Bay’s sole eye-candy (think Transformers), Whedon does so with thoughtful, well-crafted artistic flavor. He does so while tending to character development. And if there’s anything I learned from my own film obsession and my film studies classes is that a good film need not have an amazing plot, or a sensible plot even (look at Easy Riders, 1969) if it has good character development.

So yeah, this 2012 Avengers Hulk is the REAL DEAL HULK. This is what I like to call, the BORDERLINE HULK, the way Hulk should be! This is the Hulk that will live up to his true comic book origins.

Hulk is and always will be about the loss of rational thought our primal, basal reaction to stress can leave us with; it’s about human anger. Hulk, however,  is the epitome of human anger response gone to extreme proportions–gone wrong, gone dare I say “disordered”.

And to portray him in a whimsical somewhat childlike but not one-dimensional manner (with few exceptions) says something about the quality of this film.

There was just the right amount of sarcastic wit in this film, a bit of cheese but not over-the-top cheese. Yeah, there was cheese of all flavors. Enough cheese to fill up a school bus full of melancholically manic mouses, but not so much cheese to make them all throw up out the windows. And for good measure, there is a pinch of darkness in the film. Mouse likes darkness more than cheese flavor and variety even, but not more than coffee.

The Hulk in an ending scene from The Avengers 2012. Look at that face. Is that not the face of a hurting borderline? And isn’t that gorgeous, realistic 3D animation?

********

We first see Bruce, played by actor Mark Ruffalo in Calcutta, India working as a doctor. He’s in this small, crowded shanty home caring for two sick boys when an impovershed girl runs in begging for him to help her dying father.

Of course this is all a lure, a lie the Black Widow also known as Agent Natasha Romanoff played by the sexy Scarlett Johansson, has created. The Black Widow has sent out and paid the little girl to deliver this deceiving message in order to trick him into joining the Avengers crew.

As fans may know already, Nick Fury, played by Samuel L. Jackson is the man in charge of getting all of these amazing superheroes (and demigod Thor) in a round table for round-house kickassery; they must save Earth from Loki, Thor’s adopted brother who’s filled with jealousy and has completely lost it, oh, and those evil creatures from Thor’s neighboring planet who are aiding him.

But the Hulk is reluctant at first, more so than pompadour sporting Captain America who also doesn’t want part in it and feels confused in the twenty-first century (with good reason). See, Bruce Banner/Hulk has taken a lot of shit from people, even more shit that Captain America has. That’s why he’s run off to India before they have to drag him back in to re-enlist as an agent (or a weapon of mass destruction depending on how you view it).

In the first half of the film Agent Romanoff/Black Widow tells Banner he must help because, “This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet.”

Of course Bruce Banner is so self-doubting, so impulsive and quick to judge that he automatically assumes they only want the HULK side of him and completely disregards the fact that they need his scientific knowledge too. Black and white thinking ya’ll.

That is not the case, however, not yet, not until things have gotten really bad, not until that gigantic metal-covered slug teleports in from Thor’s neighboring planet and starts flying over New York City, killing hundreds and causing mayhem. (Why is it that every time something comes from another planet, it just so happens to land in New York City? Except for in Distric 9, good movie by the way–great social and political commentary.)

So when things get real bad, they will ask for the Hulk. But before then, when Black Widow is begging him to join because Loki has gotten the Tesseract–the energy thingy that could kill all living things–Banner replies to Black widdow, “What does Fury want me to do, swallow it?”

No Bruce, Fury merely wants your scientific genius for now! Jeez, they’re not all out to get you!

Remember what Captain America says, “We’re not your enemies Bruce!”

You sabotage yourself querido Brucito!

But you will help save people too querido Bruce, you will.

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Next

Part II: Why Bruce Banner/Hulk is suicidal and how the Mouse’s agressive vs. quiet borderline personality disorder (BPD) type and criteria matches up with his.

Why Hulk is indestructible but mentally vulnerable.

And…

Movie was great but why the hell aren’t they more like this second photo? Seriously, Scarlett is lovely and all, but she isn’t the only one with an ass.

Avengers, fo’ real.

Don’t remember where I found it. Sorry original artist. If I find your name I’ll post it.

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DISCLAIMER: By poking fun of mental health issues, I am not trivializing mental disorders. I’ve lived with a number of them most of my life, so I have no wish to trivialize and further stigmatize my own mental struggles as well as those of others. I am making fun of how others trivialize and misinterpret them. I’m merely a mental humorist and a poet (aw sheeeit, note what I just did there?). Besides, I just have to laugh a hearty laugh before I finally put the barrel in and pull the trigger. Also, this is more of a character study than a full film review.

Oh, one more thing: the “you know you’re borderline when…” meme was taken from Jaen Wirefly, LMSW & Nut Job’s blog. She has a great blog about borderline personality disorder, loads of humor too. Check it out, it’s a no bullshit, good information blog. If you don’t click, just remember I can go She-Hulk on you any moment.

“May is Mental Health/Borderline Personality Disorder awareness month.  😉

As many of you may already know, I have brittle bones disease which is scientifically called Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI). As a result, I’ve broken roughly 100 bones in my life, stopped counting after 70. I was born, or rather already had 17 fractures before leaving the womb.

Infants with type II OI, the most severe type, generally die from a collapsed lung, pneumonia or heart complications because the rib cage is so frail. Some die during birth or are stillborn with disconnected spinal and cranial bones.

I have type III, so I’m a little stronger than those with type II and fortunately, I can walk short distances while holding on to things. I mainly use a wheelchair, however, I do have a walker and would like to get crutches. Type I is the most common and also the least severe (I know, it’s funny how these are all out of order, you’d think type I would be the most severe).

Anyway, if you’ve been following my blog, you’ll remember that I wrote a post titled “Hooray, Phuckin A It’s Rare Disease Day!” and well, this is my promise of updating on the “awareness day” for OI. See, I do keep my promises! Some at least.

Now, I’m not going to place any links or any such things on here because chances are you won’t click (no offense) and I understand and don’t blame you because considering how many good blogs are out there, how crazy and fast paced life is, there’s just not enough time to read up on these things, especially some depressing disease. Who wants to know about diseases? They’re fuckin’ depressing man!

Really though, it’s not that bad. (HAAA, yeah, sure P). No, it’s not. I mean it’s not lethal like cancer or anything… wait… type II… nevermind. The case is, I’m going to keep my OI brothers and sisters in mind today.

As of today I’m also going to make a commitment to write more about chronic illness/disease and its relationship to mental illness (though I don’t like to use the term “mental illness” much). Anyway, there is a huge comorbidity there folks. For example, it’s no surprise major depressive disorders (MDD) are more common in a sample population of people with a chronic illness than in an otherwise “healthy” population. This to me, shows a high relationship with the psychosocial aspect of mental health.

****

So here’s to the little OI kids with little mangled bones all around the world! Keep on truckin’ little ones! Keep on! Keep on!

Wishbone Day is May 6th. It is held internationally in various cities to raise awareness and funds for Osteogenesis Imperfecta.
for more info visit http://www.wishboneday.com or
http://www.oif.org/site/PageServer

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addendum: Yous guys ever heard of the film Unbreakable directed by M. Night Shyamalan? Well, this Shyamalan guy is one I can’t seem to figure out. He’ll do one good film and then two terrible ones. I’m not going to say Unbreakable is TERRIBLE because I’ve never actually seen it and therefore, it would be very unfair of me to say anything. What I CAN say is that M. Night Shyamalan’s The Happening was a fuckin’ complete waste, bloody rubbish (ya’ll Brits have been rubbing off on me, I swear).

So, back to Unbreakable. (I swear I’m going to make a really good point here if I don’t forget.)

In Unbreakable, the fabulous actor Samuel L. Jackson plays a character–or was it Bruce Willis’ character–whatever, one of the two played someone that had none other than OSTEOGENESIS IMPERFECTA (OI). And, though I’ve never seen the film, I know that at one point they mention he has THE WORST TYPE of OI! WORST TYPE? HAHA! OUTRAGEOUS! If you’ve read this far, you know what happens to most of those who have the “worst type”. I’m a “midget” people! How can one of these two, muscular to built and tall to average-height men have it worse than me? I don’t even have “the worst” type to begin with!

And how do I know this? Because my dear deceased L told me this, and I believed him because he was a movie addict; when he wasn’t poppin pain pill after pain pill, drinking like a sailor and flipping out, he was flippin HBO channels. Also, he had type III OI like I do.

This just goes to show you guys that “REALITY” (whatever that may be) and FILM/TV are FAR FAR APART. And this is coming from someone who ADORES FILM, who DREAMS of MAKING FILMS ONE DAY!

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Speaking of Samuel L. Jackson… My next post will be “P’s First Film Review: THE AVENGERS, a Character Study On the Hulk’s Raging Borderline Personality Disorder” (yes, I am now CONVINCED Sir Bruce Banner aka Hulk is borderline and I can say this without offending because I’m officially certified borderline myself and yes, I’ll take the label and milk it for what it’s worth for now).

Yep, I just got back from seeing The Avengers and did not have a panic attack!

Thanks for reading!

*mouse nibbles*

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addendum 2: I just realized it’s MAY 5th today! Bahaha. NOT May 6th! Oh well, for you New Zealanders I’m not off at least, am I? It’s already May 6th there isn’t it?

I really do think I need to be hospitalized at this point.  NO NO NO P, you do NOT. You will NOT go to a county PSYCH WARD! Nevermind. Shhhht. You don’  heard nor read nothin’ alright. Alright? I’m out.

*le mouse sigh*

My hunch was right!

I do have a fan, an Australian fan!

I figured out who it is too. And who knows, there may be more than one. There may be a dozen Aussie fans clicking away at my nonsense. There may be little Aussie fans multiplying out of that one fan–kind’a like Bruce Campbell’s character multiplies in that scene in The Army of Darkness with the mirror that shatters on the ground, leaving reflections of himself everywhere and all those tiny Bruce Campbell–tinier than me–reflections pop up out of the mirror every-which-way trying to kill him, only I don’t want to get killed by demented Aussie fan(s) or the demented reflections that came out of that one fan. I just want to be read by the Aussie fans (demented or not) as much as I love Australia.

(By the way, if you haven’t seen Army of Darkness, think Gullivers Travels when he gets caught by the little people in Lilliput and Blefuscu, only in a comical horror-adventure film–not nearly as good as it’s predecessors Evil Dead I and II–instead and everyone seems to be on some sort of psychotropic drug in some other strange, magical and medieval land. Coincidentally Lilliput is where Australia should be.)

Alright. Alright.

I don’t think I have a point to make tonight, if I ever did have one any other night and today is lacking, then I apologize in advance.

But I will say this, I think this blog’s been a good thing. It’s helped me write again, and writing again means I keep my mind full of less demons. Pretty and little as they may be, they are vicious and I’ve been telling them to vacate for nearly fifteen years and though sometimes they do scurry out, I somehow keep finding them back in there in my mouse hole, in my skull lounging about. And when they see me eying them deliberately, they scatter about like roaches but screech louder and more consistently than cicadas. They just don’t die entirely.

They started coming by again sometime in mid December soon after I’d opened up this blog, so it’s good I’m writing, right?

********

I went to Texas Children’s Hospital today because I’m participating in a longitudinal study on Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI). I’m not getting paid shit for it so my dad kept asking if I was going to get reimbursed for gas. I told him yes even though I’m not so sure. It’s all in the name of good science. I’m glad. Too bad that after dropping me off at Children’s, my dad broke down twice, once in the freeway I-59 which is congested as hell. I could just picture him there on the side of one of the busiest highways in Houston in the midday sun standing off to the farthest, rightmost lane while hundreds of cars swoosh inches away from him each minute.

Something would’ve been nice, like a consolation prize at least. I spend my good half of the day there at Children’s and at the end of it, when I did the pulmonary function test, the nurse screamed “go go go, push, push all that air out, go go go, push!” like I was lifting weights or giving birth or something. I asked if I was getting a prize, a scratch-and-sniff sticker at least and all she did was laugh.

I figure, instead, I’ll give a prize to my Aussie fan–the one getting me big headed, or bigger headed since my head-to-body ratio is low, something like 1:3 or 1:4 (Totsymae can attest to that).

Anyway, I’m gonna give this Aussie fan her present even though she, I mean she or he didn’t reveal themselves to me: it was what I had asked for remember? Ahem, don’t worry Aussie fan, I won’t reveal you just yet! I don’t want the other Aussies to get jealous ’cause I found you and liked you before I’d found out.

Turns out THE beautiful Aussie (whom I’m not disclosing just yet clickhereifyouwanttoseesomethinandsomethingelse) had awarded me one of those sweet awards going around.

The thing is, although I’m extremely, extremely flattered and excited and what-have-you, I’m still dealing with a lot and cannot fully accept to do the whole deciding and passing on. And I’m not that versatile am I? I mean, I just keep blogging about myself. Blegh. Also, I’m barely catching up on my favorite reads, so I’ll be slow at this if ever.

Besides, I’m a strange, indecisive girl and I don’t usually follow instructions well.

So here’s what I’ma gonna do.

Aussie fan, you get to choose something you like and I’m going to draw it for you! It has to be just one thing, like for example, I’d have a Nintendo controller for myself. Then, depending on what thing you choose, I’ll add another thing.

It may not be good, but it’s just for you.

Think about it and email me or post it here.

It’s my own personal challenge too. It may take a while because it takes me forever and a day and a half to get things done. In fact, I rarely finish what I start. I probably have over half a dozen half finished posts on here and a list full of shenanigans to put in my shenanigans page. (I uploaded old sketches there by the way.)

Anyway, blogging and writing and mental health…. 

PAZ December 2011 through April 2012

Me the last four months or so
copyright PAZ 2012

Today I’d be looking like She-Hulk instead of this.

Me broken arm

And this is me smiling at the blogosphere people who’ve made good suggestions, said thoughtful things, inspired me at one point or another and just plain read my nonsensical rambling. Here’s to the one’s that have made me smile, chuckle, giggle and laugh and spill my coffee like dear Dotty Headbanger. And, the mental health bloggers I’ve found are so addicting. I can really relate to you guys; it’s comforting to know.

It’s good to have a voice.

So here’s my consolation prize to yous guys who are not THE Aussie.

A little sketch.

Me smiling at yous

See. I’m SMILING. I’m smiling at YOU.

My arm actually hurt after doing those sketches, so you better like them!

You better, even though Id’a liked to sketch them better.

Really, not to make an excuse for my poor skill but I’m shaky as hell lately, like more than usual shaky, which sucks balls, old, hairy balls. I know, excuse my language guys but that’s how I speak sometimes and that’s how much it sucks. Anyway, I told the psychiatrist about this yesterday when I had my appointment but, egh. I may write about that later.

To be honest, I’m raging today. I’ve been raging for several days now, but the rage escalated today. I’m not really, really raging. But I’m fuckin‘ raging. I’ve been raging all day. Almost everything everyone says pisses me off. And I feel bad about it so I have to put myself in time out.

I helped my mom out with an application today (finally she does it) and I was raging. It was so bad, that rage, I even wanted to flip that computer keyboard over her right then and there.

The heat, that hellish salty and breathy heat I was talking about snuck by for a couple of hours while we were stuck in traffic, then I got home to a swarm of flies and mosquitos because we’re not turning on the air conditioning just yet to save up. I don’t mind that. What I mind is the damn flies and mosquito invasion.

There had to be another massacre today, too many mosquito and fly bodies to count.

My dad leaves the doors wide open and I have that sweet blood they like. So I’m raging and I rage some more from the three dozen mosquito bites I got on my legs, my arms, my shoulders and back and face and eyelids and forehead and foot (that one really itches) and I even got some up my thighs and butt.

Man I’m raging. I want to smash things so I better go lie down..

I drew a little to placate the rage but then raged some more.

Anyway, this one is for you guys. Not the rage, the smile.