Michael Bay Shouldn't Write or Direct Movies

            Okay, so this is really really hard right now. I’m morbidly depressed. What depressed me? Michael Bay. He’s apparently making a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, live action, and just throwing everything out the window about what made it a decent show back in the eighties and again in the early 2000’s. Mutant turtles as a family with a rat as a father. I know, that sounds weird, but their personalities and stories came from that. They were trained as ninja because they couldn’t go to the surface and Splinter wanted to pass on his traditions. They’ve always been here and are from space is… stupid. You want to make a movie about space reptiles, do it, but don’t call it Turtles. Don’t have anything to do with turtles!

            Why does it depress me so? I mean, honestly, I can see your point. What makes this thing so upsetting?

            Transformers.

            This could take some time to explain. All right, let’s see what I can do.

            Michael Bay is responsible for the Transformers movies. I understand a need to update them and change them to make them appeal to a larger audience than 6 – 10 year olds. However, to make the movies he did, and to completely miss the point of the stuff he was dealing with was not only disappointing but painful. We had a chance to see something from our childhood brought back to our lives and on the big screen. How cool could it have been, y’know? And then we got what he put out. Horrible trash. It was so bad I never had the courage to go see the last one, but I’ve heard from a lot of people that it sucks just as much as the others.

            It was so simple. A movie about robots from space fighting each other. But he couldn’t get something that simple right. He had to put in Shia LeDouche and make it about him. Like Optimus Prime and the autobots couldn’t be the central characters. Who cares about them, right?

            So, not only does he get to fail three times at making a decent movie, but now he gets to make ANOTHER Transformers and TMNT to boot.

            Life seems unfair.

            I just… I don’t know if anyone knows or cares, but I really do work hard to TRY to come up with at least half way original and interesting things. I mean, honestly, I haven’t tried to do anything with anything really, cause it didn’t feel right, or I didn’t have enough or that didn’t make sense. I try to fill plot holes and not do anything that seems to cheap and easy, and there’s a reason for this that and the other. It’s why it’s taken me this long to even put things up on a website for God’s sake.

Yes, I have been influenced by things and they are apparent in my stories, but I still do what I can. I try to engage the reader, I try to bring them into the world and make it full and complete and make them care about what happens to the characters, while still giving them something fun to read with explosions and love and fights and all that. But seeing what can happen, and how Hollywood and, apparently, the world treats such things, I wonder why I should. I honestly wonder if it’s worth it to continue to try. I mean, SNOOKI has a New York Times Bestselling book. How depressing is that? A whore, and you can’t deny she’s a whore, cause she gets paid to do what she does which is smoke, drink, fuck and be a stupid bitch, who probably has two brain cells to rub together gets a best selling book.

            I can’t compete with that kind of stupid. I have no way to. I have no defense against it. It’s like religious zealots screaming at me that I’m going to Hell, or die, or whatever for whatever sin their God has accused me of. You can’t reason with them, it just is because God says so.

            It just all feels totally pointless. I want to write a Harry Potter. I want to write a phenomenon that gets kids and adults interested in reading. Now, I know it’s not totally new, but J.K. Rowling did things right! She made an interesting and engaging book based on things she knew and loved, and old traditional hero stories, and she had characters that developed, changed, learned and grew and a story that was interesting, engaging and flowing. That, however, “is so ten years ago”.

            Now the popular thing is Twilight and that, again, is soul crushing. How can people, especially women like such tripe? I mean, even from a harlequin romance story, it’s shit. Bella is the worst female… well anything I’ve seen ever, and I’ve watched exploitation films. The women in those movies have better morals, character and acting abilities than anything I’ve seen with Bella.

            I guess in the end it all comes down to the same thing. I know I’m a idiot. There is no denying it. I hate myself, and I’m probably the dumbest person I know, and YET… and yet there are so many things out there that make me wonder why I’m not dumber because clearly I have to be to enjoy it.

            I will TRY to keep writing. I did this, so that’s something, but now it all just seems so very very pointless. Guess we’ll see what happens. Look, another day on the chain.

            Big fuckin’ deal.

            Later days.

Hidden in the Words

            Well, I didn’t get anything up yesterday, but I still wrote for about three hours. I think that’s a good thing. I do want to post five days a week, but, it’s not always easy to get something up there. With this site it normally is, but yesterday was a weird, long, good day that just kept me going all day, so I never did get the chance. Again, I wrote, and that’s the important thing.

            While I didn’t finish anything, or find that I had written anything I wished to put up (I want to put up quality, not just a thrown out story, I’ve regretted that) I did start to think about some odd things while I wrote. I thought about things I’d read, and seen, and how they influenced me and what they meant to me. I thought about how certain characters had come together (Arun and Kyden, for example, basically started off as rip offs of Miguel and Tulio from Road to El Dorado, but have evolved to become their own characters over the years) and my stories had evolved. And then a very odd thought struck me.

            What would people find in my stories?

            Now, I don’t mean, would people enjoy my stories, I think I could easily find a large audience. My stories aren’t anything special, I suppose, but they are decent and I think they would appeal to a lot of people. What I mean is that I wondered what hidden meaning people might take from my stories. What imagery or influence or ideas they might find that I never intentionally put there. I’ve heard it said that Tolkien was influenced by his experiences in the World Wars, and that he’s denied it, but that could be just rumor and hearsay. If he didn’t mean to, but people found it in there anyway, did he do it unconsciously? Are there things like that in my stories?

            So, I sat and thought about my stories. I thought about them very hard and very carefully. Apokryphos seems the most innocent to me. All throughout the stories it’s about humanity, and redemption, and a personal connection with spirituality and how human’s deal with that no matter their religion. It also has a lot of my personal feelings about God in there, but in a more fantastic sort of a way. In Apokryphos, for reasons beyond my comprehension, I like to imagine God looks like Ed Asner. Something about his voice, demeanor and look seems appropriate for God. But that’s me.

            So, there’s nothing hidden there that I can see people really making much of a fuss about or me denying. The stuff that’s in that really is me, I think, or at least, it is for the most part. But who knows what I can’t see that others might? The real trouble I found was accidental and in Joresch.

            Let’s start with magic. The magic users of my world are beaten down. They are wise philosophers and knowledge seekers and essentially, now that I look at them, an allegory for scientists, though they were never meant to be. They were just supposed to be magic users, but if one were to look at my stories, they could draw that I had made them what they are on purpose. Now, there are of course good and bad magic users of all kinds, but mostly the good ones are portrayed, such as Finna, Cygnus and, to a lesser extent, Jacobar. Again, none of that was intentional, it was just story. Well, that’s all well and good, but things really took a down shot from there. The reasons mages have it so bad is that they are relegated to a small island because they are targeted by the major religion of the world. They are blamed for the world breaking several thousand years ago, and for the irradiation of magic in certain parts of the world that make them uninhabitable. In short, religion attacking science.

            I know, right?

            It gets much worse, because the main story of the first series of Joresch books deals with the mages fighting against the major religion who is trying to unite the countries of the western continent, but in reality the major religion is being run by a dark military force who only wants power. Also, the eastern continent is ruled by religious zealots who burn books, and witches, and keep knowledge in check.

            I never realized I was so politically charged.

            In fact, I am not.

            None of these thoughts ever came to me ever until I looked at things at the end of the road. See, I’ve been working on Joresch for over 7 years now. It wasn’t even always called Joresch. The world came together, slowly and over time, and was built piece by piece while it was being role played with friends. Each piece fell where it did and I liked it or didn’t, and some of it has come from other people, including my wife. It’s not mine alone. The way things happened was totally random. There was no thought other than story, fun and character. So I have to wonder now about these books that we study. The great books of history and the world that we were forced to or wanted to read in high school and college. We try to find meaning in them, find what the author meant with this word, or why he or she described something this way instead of another way. Did they mean that this person was a communist or evil? Were they trying to imply that God wasn’t there or that women were being persecuted or that the government wasn’t giving them enough free cheese?

            Maybe. And in some cases, books were written completely as an allegory for something else going on in the world (Revelations the Golden Compass come to mind, but, y’know, that’s me) or to voice political views and aspirations. But, I think more often than not, someone was just trying to write a book, and whatever happens was just for fun and probably profit.

            I wonder how people will take my unholy abomination created by evil that was born without a soul, accidently devours the souls of those he kills, then sacrifices himself to save those he loves and comes back from the dead as the protector of the world?

            Nah, who would buy anything that silly?

            Later days.

Don't Break the Chian

            So, I’m trying something new today. It was introduced to me by Jess, and it’s called don’t break the chain. It’s pretty simple. You get a big calendar (mine is on the internet) and you set a goal and every day that you work toward that goal you get to put a big red X on that day. The idea is to get a big long chain of X’s on your calendar that show that you’ve done something. I guess that might help, but it was part of what I wanted to do anyway. More motivation, perhaps? I think it could help, but I’m not sure. There is a problem though. A big one.

What constitutes an X?

A blog entry like this?

 A short story for Apokryphos or another chapter on Joresch?

Does it count if I just sit and write on my role playing game stuff? I don’t know. I suppose the goal is output for me, because I want to put something up for my blogs to get people interested in my writing so that I have the motivation to keep writing and get my books out, so it will have to be something to do with Joresch, Apokryphos and this blog. If things get going well enough maybe I’ll start drawing again. Maybe it seems greedy, but I want to make money doing the things that I like, enough that I don’t have to work anymore (even if I do like my job… in small doses). I would love to be a full time author, or artist, or both. That’s been my dream since Mrs. Osmudson got me hooked on writing back in sixth grade. That’s seriously how long I’ve been trying to write and actually writing. Now I do the self publish thing (cause, self publishing does include blogs oddly enough), but I don’t consider it a win or even much of a goal. It’s great to get people interested, but I want to have actual books. I want physical books in my hand. I want to go to a book store (or more likely Amazon.com) and see “William Otto’s latest book – Insert Title Here”. Eventually I want television series and movies made of my stuff (but only with my permission and me writing the scripts. I will NOT have an X-Men Origins Wolverine or an Elementary on my hands, no sir!). I can easily see Apokryphos as a television series, and Joresch too. I’m visually oriented, but I’m a better writer than artist, and I can’t animate, so y’know, books.

I think I’ve got ideas how this whole don’t break the chain will work. They’re ideas only, and my BIGGEST goal is to WRITE every day. I’d like it to be something new, but if I work on my role playing stuff, I’ll be just as happy. I want to produce, but just writing is tough and I think it’s something I need to do more of just as a matter of fun. The more I do it, the easier it gets and the more things flow when I write these things. This is the fifth thing I’ve written in two days, and while it’s nothing special, it’s going quickly and easily. I just need an idea to lead in with and then the rest just sort of comes out (even if it is a bit rambly).

I can’t say that I’ll post something every day, but I’m going to try. Monday through Friday blog posts on all three blogs (cause there’s about to me a third one for Joresch) is my actual goal. Joresch might just be the books, cause I don’t really have any short stories there, not like I do for Apokryphos which lends itself very well to short stories. I mean, Joresch should too, cause it’s a nice big fantasy world and I loved Dragonlance but I can’t seem to think of any short stories there. Nothing comes up properly. So, I’m sort of stuck. HOWEVER… if I am forced to write a chapter of Joresch a day, that could end up being something good, right? I mean, it forces me to do stuff.

That might sound weird, but it works. I work best under pressure to an extent. Let me give you an example. I have a friend named Amos. He’s a good guy, but he loves to role play. So, he’d come over while I was cleaning my house (cause I used to do very little else) and he’d ask me to run him in something. I’d be forced to make something up on the spot and we’d go. And I came up with some great stuff out of nowhere. Apokryphos bloomed out of the same thing, except Sammi is much less demanding than Amos. Apokryphos all I had was the idea of Talon and Arus and they were basic, but as Sammi and I played those first few sessions the world opened up into something wonderful and now it’s one of the stronger things I think I have to offer. Probably stronger than Joresch in some ways cause it’s not quite the same old fantasy like Joresch could end up being (but I don’t think it is, then again, I might be biased).

Over the next few days, I’m going to revamp the Apokryphos site. I want to fix some problems I’ve found with my stories, put other one’s in, and put the whole thing in chronological order. I might not get everything put up the way I want especially with days to nights and stuff. I might fix things on Saturday and put something up then cause I’m only really interested in putting stuff up Monday through Friday, so long as I’m typing. I would love to be able to have a story for Joresch and Apokryphos every day, but that might be pushing it. We’ll see how things go. Again, I just want to make sure I keep working on things and typing.

Anyway, now my goals have been put out there. I need you guys to keep my honest. If you like what you read, let me know. Drop me a line on Facebook. Leave me a message on Yahoo. Hell, leave comments on the stuff on the sites. It helps to know people like it and want more. For now though, I’m going to get stuff uploaded and ready for the first day of posts. Wish me luck on the rest of the days.

Faking Recovery

            So I’ve been meaning to write more. It’s something that I truly enjoy doing. I’ve been doing stuff about me, but that seems shallow and personal and just kind of weird for me. It’s weird to imagine that there are people out there, even my friends and family, that are actually interested in reading about what I consider my failure of a life. However, I keep getting positive responses which just bewilders me and I DO need to write, so here I am, bashing out another long winded ramble about what might be going through my head. The difference here is that I’m going to start writing once a day if I can help it. It’s a goal I’ve tried to hit before, but it’s hard. This time I’m going to start saving stuff up. I have no idea when anyone will read this, but, God willing, it will only be on my computer for a week before I post it. My goal is to have two stories, one from Joresch, one from Apokryphos, as they are my greatest passions. Eventually I might have a book written for each, even if it’s just short stories from each. I don’t know.

It’s a goal, anyway, and that seems to be the big thing in my therapy. It pisses me off sometimes. It’s like ‘What have you accomplished since we last spoke?’ Nothing, you bitch, quit asking! That’s my life! I don’t do anything! I’m depressed and agoraphobic, and I can’t leave the house, and I can hardly move when I’m home, and I can only fake happy at work and nothing has happened in my life and I’m turning 35 this year, thanks a lot for bringing me down lady!

But I keep going. I wish I could say I’m going for me. I go for Karen. She’s the biggest part of my life. Her and Tyler. I need to be there for them. I mean, I know I’m failing Tyler as a parent. I suck as a dad. I can only imagine that it’s slightly more bearable with me than with his mom who completely ignores him. Just another tick in my list of failures and things I suck at, just above being able to draw and just below being a decent human being.

  I guess part of me goes to therapy for me, cause I just cannot live like I was. I’m better, to an extent, but only a little. I’m kind of sleeping, in random spurts, but it’s better than nothing, and I’m not stressing as bad as I have been, but it’s still there. The slightest thing can really set me to shaking or blacking out if I’m not ready for it, but again, those things are becoming rare. Now my biggest fight is against just total depression. For example, I came home last night and enjoyed a delicious taco salad, but I got tired quick as I’d only grabbed about 3 hours of sleep for work, so, after my big joyous food high, I crashed for a couple hours. When I woke up, realizing I’d need to sleep for work that night, I was miserable. Nothing brought me joy. Everything was just, well, awful. I couldn’t shake it. Not even my delicious taco salad could bring me joy anymore. I just didn’t want to exist and there was no reason for it. And that happens a fair amount. Oh, sure, no one sees it, but that’s because I fight so hard for people NOT to see it. I can’t stand making other people unhappy. And for those of you who read my Facebook posts, I like to point out stupidity, not make people unhappy. There’s a difference.

So, what seems to be recovery may just be me covering cause I don’t want to stress people; particularly Karen. I stress her out so much. She’s gonna be as bad as me if I don’t do something. I honestly don’t know why she stays. It might be body image, I guess. She found someone that loves her for her, which I do, but she could do about a billion times better than me easily. She could be married to some rich, loving doctor who could actually get her things, and a real house, and animals and into college and all the things she wants instead of having to worry about whether or not I’ve blacked out driving home cause a cop stressed me and now I’m dead in a ditch somewhere. I mean, that can’t be fun.

So, now it’s one in the afternoon. I’ve been up a couple hours after crashing again for a short time. I’m tired as hell, but I can’t sleep. I have to work in five hours and be out till one in the morning. I might try and trade, but probably not. I like closing, and I like Frankie cause she’s fun and, again, I hate putting people out. Hell, I’m working today cause someone was nice to me and I feel guilty as hell when I don’t pay people back for niceness. This is my own fault, and I think that sort of sums up my life. My entire life has been a series of really bad choices that have led me to become this strange sort of cult failure figure. All my friends love me, some cherish me, and I just can’t see it. They’re all doing well, with families and real houses, and real jobs and real lives, and I’m sitting here in a trailer my parents pay for and bought because I was an idiot six years ago and we can’t get out of and that just makes me want to kill myself cause I hate it so damned much. And yet they call, they write, they want to see me, they want to hear my stories, they want to roll play, they want me.

And I just do not understand.

Praise is something I don’t understand at all. All I see when I look in the mirror is this big fat, lazy, stupid, bastard of a failure. But my boss keeps telling me what I great job I do, and how all these people come up and ask for me, if not by name, then by “that big guy that is so cheerful”. I make people happy, even if I can’t be happy myself. Weird, right? But it’s so hard for me to say thank you to that, to people who compliment me. It’s weird. It doesn’t feel right. I can handle insults, but I can’t handle nice. I don’t know how to respond to it. “Hey, you fat fuck, what the hell is wrong with you?!” I can answer that. I can take that. That makes sense in my head. “You are so nice! You make it so fun to work here!” That doesn’t enter in my head. I just get all flustered and quiet and I don’t know how to respond so I just sort of nod and say “I do what I can” and move on without really taking the compliment. I mean, I’m glad that people like working with me and that I make them happy cause that’s good, but overall, I just, I don’t know, just kind of what to be left alone in a weird sort of way, but not be left alone. I don’t know what to do about it.

That’s sort of part of the problem, work, or at least, the way they see me at work. The way people see me in general. I know how I come off. I come off as this goofy, sort of loveable little guy who can deal with just about anything and still be smiling. I grunt and grumble the grumpy bits, and laugh and make jokes, but it’s all just fluff. I mean, I used to genuinely be like that. Shouting crap to make people laugh, to keep things lighthearted even during some of the worst stuff, cause I’ve had some shit jobs that you REALLY had to laugh through or you’d just kill yourself (Ames High the Gerry Peters regime for example SUCKED, and Gerry Peters, you know nothing and have no right to that job, you jackass, and I can’t wait for you to piss off the wrong person and get shitcanned you moronic fuck) but everything I do has no connection. There’s no emotion. There’s nothing behind the smile. I mean, I do have fun at work, but the face is just that, a face. It’s not me. Or maybe it is. I don’t know.

I am, and I am not at the same time.

It’s not as deep as it sounds, probably.

Hell, there are three women I work with that are incredibly beautiful, smoking hot, and they don’t register to me. Maybe it’s because they're younger, but even the few hot women that come through as customers when I’m working barely registers, even if they seem the right age. I can joke about it, play the part when I’m with the right person or people, but overall, nothing. I’m like a video game. Or an unobserved particle. That’s better. An unobserved particle. I don’t have function or purpose until viewed or acted upon by an outside force or observer. Then I put on the face that is appropriate and do my little dance, do my little dance on the catwalk. Then it’s back to being an empty nothing.

So that’s why this. I am literally forcing myself to do the things that I know I enjoy or enjoyed, and while I can’t seem to draw (though I do still try sometimes, and might just need practice or patience) I CAN write and I know that my stories are solid. There are few things I will say that I am good at, but I can write a damned good story, I can tell a damned fine tale. I know how to get people interested without pandering, I know how characters evolve and change, or don’t depending on who they are, I know how to twist and turn and bring you in and make you want to know these characters. I can fucking well do that even if I don’t claim to be able to do anything else. So, I will write. I will write till my fingers bleed if I have to. I have lost everything else in my life; my joy, my youth, me in general, but I will be God damned before I give up my stories.

They’re all I have left of who I was, and who I wanted to be.