Requiem for a Ghostbuster

   Anyone who knows me well will tell you about my quirks and my ability to be charming. They can attest to my love of all things nerdy. Lord of the Rings, Firefly, Batman and so on. Of all of these things that I love, these little fragments that make me who I am and validate my nerd status, there is only one true glowing gem in my crown of nerd-dom and that is four men in tan and sometimes grey jumpsuits with unlicensed nuclear accelerators strapped to their backs standing between the living and the evil forces of the spirit world.

The fast, the beautiful, the only, Ghostbusters.


   A lot of folks are huge fans of the Ghostbusters for one reason or another. Most people, unless they have been living under a massive rock for the past 30 or so years have seen the movies and can quote them at will. As a kid I remember coming home from school and watching a VHS copy of the original movie that was recorded off of TV. Between commercials for a new series starring Brice Willis  and Cybil Shepherd called "Moonlighting" and the trailers for a new movie called "The Princess Bride" a slightly edited version of Ghostbusters would play. When I was in first grade, many many moons ago, I would go out to recess and try to find other kids to play Ghostbusters with me. I rarely got any willing volunteers and would just save the small town of Angleton Texas by myself. The toys I remember the most were all of my Ghostbusters toys, My Proton Pack that got so worn out that I got a replacement, the action figures, the vehicles, the video games all of them defined my childhood. I remember waking up early on Saturday mornings and sitting through Winnie the Pooh cartoons just for that glorious twenty or so minutes of the Real Ghostbusters. I was hooked from the beginning.

   I also remember a childhood filled with sickness; being diagnosed with Type-1 Diabetes at the age of 6. I remember losing my father to a car accident when I was 9. I remember being a child that was afraid of my own shadow. I was afraid of ghosts. I was afraid of everything. Ghostbusters taught me to be brave when I am alone in the dark. It taught me that these things that go bump in the night could be eradicated and helped to move on. The first Ghostbusters toy I ever got was and Egon action figure. I remember that night when I went to bed, I stood him up on my nightstand with his proton pack. Egon stood sentinel for me and watched over me as I slept, He did this every night without fail. That Christmas, the rest of the Ghostbusters came to join him, along with the Firehouse and the Ecto-1. After my father passed, I started to become more interested in the world of paranormal investigation. I looked everywhere for him but he was nowhere to be found. For my 8th birthday, I got to see Ghostbusters 2 in the theater. I dressed up in a makeshift uniform and wore it proudly to the theater.

   When I got a little older, My mom took my brother and I to Florida to Disney World and Universal Studios. At that time, Universal had a Ghostbusters "ride". It was basically the climax fight from the first movie. I was too scared to go and see it, I wet instead to the gift shop that was attached to the ride, It was filled with all things Ghostbusters, They even had uniforms,I was crestfallen to discover that  they did not have one that was made for young teenagers, just for smaller children. So I settled for a cool t-shirt instead. Looking back now, I regret not going on the ride, When we made another trip out with my sister a few years later, the ride had been replaced with something else. However, I did get to meet the Ghostbusters on that trip, and Egon was the one who came up and shook my hand. I know fully that Harold Ramis was more than this one role. I know he was a writer, director and producer. His impact on comedy and films in general, and the actors and actresses that he has inspired in his many years is impressive.

   I feel this loss on a more profound level than I ever thought I would. I have never shed tears for any famous person when I hear the news of their death. I am always saddened by the loss. This year alone with the death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman I felt as most of us did, that we had lost one of the greats, far before the final curtain should have come down. I felt the loss, and I moved on. I will do the same for Harold Ramis, but not before I express just how much this man impacted my life from such an early age. I cried when I heard he had passed. Friends texted me, and sent me messages on Facebook. My brother was the one who broke the news to me. My mom emailed me to make sure I was OK. My family knows me, and they know how I feel about Ghostbusters. I'm sure a doctor could list several reasons all relating to fear of loss and fear of the unknown that relate to my love and fascination with Ghostbusters that has continued well into adulthood. I have good and bad memories of my childhood and Ghostbusters was the one constant happy place I went to. It is the happy place I still go to.
 
   It has been a busier semester than I expected. sometimes I feel like I am swallowing sea water to make the ocean smaller so I can keep my head above the water a little easier. Lots of projects and commitments going on. It's great to be busy, and to be distracted form the horrors of normal life until they sneak up on you and kick you square in the balls. This is a breather. This is my deep breath. This is me keeping calm and carrying on. This is me saying goodbye to a man I never met. To a man I never knew more than the characters he played. This is me, trapping and storing a memory in my state of the art containment unit.

  Thank you Harold Ramis, thank you. May your spirit be at peace, and we'll see you on the other side.

 

A Rear in Review and a Charming Anecdote about a Pawn Shop Romance

                                                                              
                                              "This is it? Gandhi ate more than this!" 




     So here we are at the start of another year, and my resolution to not make a resolution is going strong, I have high hopes that THIS resolution will be seen through to the very end. Mostly because come about mid-January, I will be neck-deep in homework and various projects and work, which will cause me to forget that I made any type of resolution to begin with. You see people? Keeping your resolutions is much easier than you think, Just resolve to not make any, and you will never feel like a failure.
 
      Well then, lets get to it shall we? 2013 ended on a higher note than 2012 for sure. So much has happened this past year that was positive in my life that looking back with anything but "Warm-Fuzzies" is kind of difficult but I will give it the ol' college try.  I started off 2013 being blind in one eye. this trend lasted for about 6 months or so until some time in early June when I had a vitrectomy and the offending blood that filled my left peeper was replaced with a proper, clear liquid,  You never really get to appreciate something so delicate as your sight until it is taken from you. I had a great support team in place and would have been unable to do much of anything if it hadn't been for my family's help and a great team of doctor's sticking delicate needles, horror movie style into my eye. Thank the Gods for steady hands.
 
      Despite this lapse of total vision, I still managed to go back to school and find my calling. I designed the sound for "No Exit", the spring play at Lonestar College-Kingwood and swept the sound design awards, and earned a scholarship to Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches. I owe a world of thanks to Kali Vlahos and Eric Skiles two of the coolest professors as well as coolest people I have ever had the great fortune to meet. If it hadn't been for their guidance and blind trust in a guy they hardly knew doing design work for their show, I wouldn't be where I am right now.They will be in every acceptance speech I ever give.
 
      Speaking of cool people and things, I am about to begin my second semester at SFA and really couldn't be more excited about it. I met so many cool people when I came into the program. Professors and students alike. It's hard going away to school when you're 18 but I can tell you that it doesn't get much easier when you're in your 30's. Luckily, I am old enough to go and buy beer or something stronger to relax at the end of the day. However, not being of age doesn't seem to be an issue with some people getting booze (just an observation). It has been a hell of a ride thus far, and I know it will be even better as it goes. I'm ready for it. It took me 31 years to find something I wanted to do for the rest of my life, but I finally found it. I think that these things come to us when we need them most. I did college off and on for years, never really getting anywhere but now that I know what it is I want, I will not stop until I have it.


I also met Morena Baccarin AND Tricia Helfer so suck on that internet,

   I repaired my electric guitar with mine own hands as well. She's playing as beautifully as she ever did, and I feel a little more complete with her back in one piece. The story of this guitar is almost like a fairy tale. I bought her at a pawn shop in Angleton, Texas about 8 or 9 years ago. She traveled with me to Austin and San Antonio. About a month before I moved to Vancouver, I was broke and needed money so I decided to pawn her. I did, and then moved and thought she was gone forever. Fast forward to a few years later. I am in different pawn shop in San Antonio, shopping for an electric guitar to replace the one I loved and lost by my own stupidity. I was going down the aisle of guitars hanging on the wall and one catches my eye. It was a nice shiny blue Fender Stratocaster with a price tag that was within my price range. I sat an played it for a minute or two, plugged it in to the test amp to make sure it actually worked and decided to buy it. As I stood up, something on the wall caught my eye. Something that had a familiar curve to it. I laid the strat on the counter and walked a few steps down from where I was standing. It was facing away from me as it hung there on the wall. I noticed a familiar ding in the body close to the strap knob. There was this tiny flutter in my stomach as I got closer. " I know that ding.", I said to myself. I reached up and grabbed the guitar off its hanger and turned it around, and there in my hands once more, was MY guitar. My Washburn Maverick was back in my hands. I looked her over to be sure, and yes. It was her. She has three very distinct little dings and scratches on her that are like birthmarks or dental records. Without hesitation I went and paid for her and took her home. I am a firm believer in things happening for a reason and I will never again let her go. she's my number one lady, and she came back to me.

 Anyway, Im excited about the new year and all that shit so let's get to it,



Until next time, Stay warm, stay happy, and dont let the NSA catch you picking your nose while you are looking at facebook on your phone,




Cheers!!  

Out of the darkness, and into the night

Finally, the triumphant return of yours truly has come. Toiling away in the pits of the 6th level until something worthy of making the arduous trek through the depths back up tp the surface has come about. I wont bore you with the gory details of my journey through the bowels of the Inferno, but sufficed to say, it would make a damn good story. Maybe next time. I tell you dear readers that I have found a job, albeit not the 100k a year type, but it puts me back to work instead of at home driving my wife and cat crazy.

  I recently aquired gainful employment at a little shop called Heroes and Fantasies. Luckily, I fall into both of those categories. Well, one or the other depending on who you talk to.  Anyway, I have been working here for about a month and a half and couldn't be happier about a steady paycheck. Now, lets just get a few more karaoke shows a week and we will be all set for world domination. 

Just wanted to check in and let you all know that I'm still kickin chickens out there in the real world.

Until next time, its back to the pit for me..

We came, We saw, We kicked it's ass!

Well, what am I to do?

     I've been pondering the idea of writing a novel, screenplay type thing. In fact, I have already started. But I have reached a plateau. I am at a cross roads in my writing, and I am reaching out into the inter-webs for help. I could write a ripping good yarn about working in a Head Shop, somewhere in the vein of a Thompson  fear and loathing masterpiece, or some ridiculous crappy teen horror story. I suppose of I change names and locations of events, I can't get sued by some former co-worker for using their likeness without their permission right?

    

 I can smell the movie profits from here...

On a slightly less profitable note, I still don't own the Ecto-1, and I think that bothers me more than anything. At the age of 11, I was sure that by the time I was 30 i would own a caravan of Ecto-1's as well as a different Ghostbuster uniform for every day of the week.  Alas, how the weight of the world has broken my spirit! Meh, I'm down but not out.The folly of youth tells me I have plenty of time to get my mitts on a driveable Ecto-1. I close my eyes and see a future where I am driving my children to school, baseball practice and dance lessons in a sleek, shiny Ecto-1, sirens cutting through the early morning air like a glorious trumpet from the heavens, calling all who hear it to rise and begin their day. 

     There I sit, behind the wheel in my chariot of paranormal investigation and elimination cruising down the city streets and highways, sunglasses on, windows down, radio up turning heads as I go.  The sweet smell of freedom and protons charging fills my lungs as I pull into the school, my son or daughter sitting in the front with me, filled with the solemn pride that is theirs in knowing that their father, is the best and coolest dad ever, and they love when I take them to school in my totally awesome car.  While my wife, falls in love with me all over again, every time I pull out of the driveway in my big beautiful American Dream mobile.  I see her standing on the front porch, watching me drive away, the look of love and awe covering her face, her eyes well up with teary pride as I turn on the flashing lights, her knees go weak at the sound of the sirens.I stick my arm out of the window and wave as I drive away, I glance in the rear view mirror and see her waiving back and blowing kisses.  Every night is like a honeymoon, everyday a winning lottery ticket. 

     Years flash befor my eyes, and I see myself and old man. My son/daughter have families of their own now. They are too busy to go for rides anymore. They have cars of their own with no flashing lights or sirens. Drab, boring, economical cars.Instead of driving them to school, Im driving it to the grocery store, or to the golf course, or to take my lovely wife out for dinner and a movie. She tells me she loves me, and is so proud of our children and the way things turned out. Our daughter with her Presidency, successful movie career, and her husband,( who I still don't like but tolerate because my daughter loves him) and our son, the grammy winning musician who has sold more albums than Elvis and bought us Dharma Island to retire on, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize for his work to end the tension in Iran, bringing the world into a thousand year peace.  She kisses me softly as we park the Ecto-1 in the sand and watch the waves of the ocean creep softly onto the land and then swiftly sweep back out to sea. The moon is full and shines bright on the surface of the water, illuminating the shoreline for miles in both directions. I look into her eyes, and my life with her and the happiness floods my mind. The low hum of the Ecto-1 motor is almost silent over the wind rushing by us, sweeping across the vast coast. I look at my wife, kiss her gently and hold her tight against me. She smiles and flips the switch on the dashboard of my beloved Ecto-1. We watch in awe as the car transforms into the Black Pearl, her full black sails filling with the wind, as we stand at the front of the ship, the splash of the crisp water splashes against my cheek. I look out onto the horizon, a dark blue mystery, and smile as we sail off into that undiscovered country together. A childhood dream realized, a life complete and full. I still hear the sirens in my mind, as I close my eyes and venture off into that undiscovered country, my wife sailing there beside me.

Immortality

     I've sometimes wondered about the true meaning of immortality. When we are shown immortality in movies, television, comics, books, etc. we see a character that does not die no matter what happens, or we see someone who has become immortal through death such as a vampire for example. The thought of living forever is shown all throughout human history,  there have been stories of the ones who cannot die. Obviously, in this bloggers opinion, these stories are told to us because we are, in fact, going to die.
     I read the book "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman about 2 years ago, and it got me thinking. These Gods in the book, while able to live for a long time,( much longer than the regular, everyday asshole), are still in danger of shuffling off the mortal coil.

This gave me pause.

     The Gods lived on for so long in the New World because their stories were carried over into America, and so, the Gods themselves traveled to America in the minds of the people who believed in them. It was only when the last of the followers died, did the Gods truly fade into non-existence. The memory is what kept the God alive. As long as someone still remembered them, they wouldn't fade into the mist. As stated earlier,  this gave me pause. It is possible to obtain immortality without having to go through some ridiculous test of strength and faith. We are remembered in the minds of our friends and family, as well as the minds of our enemies. We live rent-free somewhere in the memory parts of the brain, immortal in impervious to anything until we are forgotten.
     Interesting theory I know, if only for the warm fuzzy feeling that we get when we think of the ones we love that have rode on ahead on the trail of life. They live on in our hearts and minds, for as long as we choose to carry them there.
     So, the next time you feel sad, about the fact that you are going to die, and you haven't met a vampiric savior who will grant you the gift of the undead, remember that while you may not be physically down the street, you will still have a home in someones heart, and there, you change from a simple mortal into something much greater, something much more powerful. You turn into an idea. And while you can kill a man, you cannot kill what he stands for.

One more thing.

     I realize after going back and reading my post from yesterday that I may have been a little misleading in my lamentations.



I AM OK :)

No worries, you're  not getting rid of me that easy. Nothing new to report today, just the same ol' fiery mess down here on the 6th level. For those of you curious as to what the "6th level"  is in reference to, I urge you to investigate the works of Dante. Maybe that will shine a light in the right direction for you. I was looking on my stats for my blog and I have 5 readers in Russia and one in Germany. In the spirit of global hospitality I say:  привет  and Hallo!!!


Enjoy the breaking of the language barrier. That's about as far as it will go I'm afraid. I may try to publish one or two blogs in another language, but I'm afraid of butchering another language.




More later, gotta go see a lady about a bush trimmer.

Stuck

                                                               "  I did my best, it wasn't much
                                                              I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
                                                    I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
                                                            And even though it all went wrong
                                                              I'll stand before the Lord of Song
                                                        With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah"

     Well, thanks to some well placed punches and a swift kick to the throat, I am back on the cobbles. completely unsure of my future. However I must point out that, I've only ever been sure of three things. I love my wife, I love my family, and 'm pretty sure that I missed my chance at being famous about 10 to 15 years ago. I didn't even realize that it had passed me by. Since I missed the boat, there's no harm in telling you how I had an idea in high school about a serial killer cop-like character. I wont say any names Dexter, but the idea was somehow taken from me, and made into a hit television program on Showtime called.....Weeds.
    Regardless of the past, I don't want to go back and do things over, I want to go forward into this Brave New World and do what I can with the time I have been given, so that when I am on my death-bed, I don't look back and say I have regrets and squandered everything. My father was taking classes at Brazosport College when he died, trying to make a better life for himself and his family. I wonder sometimes, if he ever felt the same feeling of failure that I do sometimes.  Aimless. Lost.
     I'm not looking for sympathy here, I"m just trying to discern my feelings on the subject of me. I had a dream a few nights ago, and in this dream, I was walking through a large room, filled with the cartoon characters I loved  as a kid. the smurfs, Batman, the Ninja Turtles, but there was one that was there that while a cartoon, this one was from the movies. Dan Aykroyd from the Ghostbusters was in the middle of the room wearing his Ghostbuster uniform including the Proton Pack. there, amongst dozens of animated  memories was one live action Ghostbuster. I walked staright to him and hugged him.  In my dream, I hugged a Ghostbuster. I know some will laugh and I am sure to get ridiculed by my brother and others about this, but I don't care.  I want to know why I felt the overwhelming happiness I did in that dream. Is that what I am meant to do? Be a Ghostbuster? Because, I could do that. It's just too bad that Para-psychology isnt a field that is in high demand.
     Its enough to make a guy scream. In all of this,  all I want is to make enough so at the end of the day, I dont feel as though I have just been working to pay bills. Its hard enough working a job you hate, but having to work a job you hate and then having nothing to show for it at the end of the day is insane.
So what the hell is a fella to do? I can't be a criminal, I'm too afraid of prison.  I wouldn't make a good doctor,( just trust me on this one).
      Maybe I could be a writer, and do some work for an internet news site or what have you. There was a time when I was younger that I may have been called to the ministry, but these days I don't think they would enjoy my thoughts on the subject. The years of working with the cynical in a cynical world has made me the cynic that I am. Any way you slice it, I think there is only one thing to do.