Lights, Camera, Critic! (My dream job, still)

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I remember it being a childhood ambition of mine. I would go to the theater and say yes, three stars and my friends would just giggle. Of course at that time I was highly influenced by male roles, and even now I become smitten a little with the character. Since I saw movies go from a single story to becoming an epic, I wished I could be like Ebert, a man with a career spanning 40 years! I love seeing movies in the theater, and unlike music where I love nearly everything, the field of criticizing films needs someone to distinguish between the bad, the average, and the exceptional. This is something I would be phenomenal at. The theater has an allure to me. I love comparing and contrasting films with my friends, and turning a love into a career would make it a lasting one.

Every weekend I try to watch a movie or two that I had never seen before and let my knowledge of movies develop and expand. No movie is off limits, they all take me to a different place. A different place, like a blissful place; I’m in the actors’ shoes and I love to “act” as if that’s me! Like books, movies teach life lessons and show you the world as you have never seen it before. Lessons of countries and brother torn by war, of heroes and the villains that make or break their character are invigorating for me. Of men banding together for a cause. A love story, complicated, flooded with the elements of our times. Not every movie is good, but each brilliant story has a reason for its brilliance. I believe my open-mindedness towards movies and the world in general, that my various friends have helped to establish would keep me unbiased.

A beauty, a pure gem would be my life if I was given this chance to become a film critic. It would be amazing to see where my job would take me and what people I would meet. I have never taken journalism but can belt out an excellent essay if I believe and have a strong passion for it. The words they come and flow from my mind. These streams of creativity, that I could produce this picture in someone’s mind. I could produce this painting, this view point. It would be something that others watch and comment on my review. I have never enjoyed the limelight, but it would be fun to me famous, except that I’m a private person. Finally, if I could be this legendary film critic I would use the money for charities and to better our school, our environment, and our universe. I want to help the world because it is so ridden with disease, violence, and political uprising; I want that world to change. I need the piece of mind that my children to have a better world, and I’d work diligently to give them a chance to grow up like me. Amazing how a career like being a film critic could encompass your life and surround it in joy.

How is a critic different from anyone else viewing the film, they are both the same thing, human. So why does this critic get the say. How does he judge the movie in a way that will appeal to the general public? That is exactly why film critics were brought on this world. It is impossible to find a critic a who both critics a movie for no entertainment value and come back with the other side, something that is rare if not impossible. My huge responsibility is to watch many movies and on the spot write lots of reviews every week, understanding that I must be honest, but constructive.

To become a critic a background in journalism would be preferred. There is not set of school and other programs, but I would definitely say that college would not hurt. A liberal arts degree would be looked fondly upon. Also, computer science editing, language, musical composition, and writing are all suggested classes.  For example if you are watching a historically related movie, it would help to have knowledge in the subject so you can see how well the film depicts history. Maybe you will have to be most patient with the career ladder. Take small steps to lead your way to the top. Who knows? Maybe I will sit opposite Roeper the great critic and give my commentary of a certain movie that peaked my attention.

The main personal quality one needs in this field more then people skills, more than courtesy, more so even then being good under pressure, is be honest and really being able to analyze the movie in such a way that gives as accurate depiction of what the movie experience might be for a person who sees that particular movie. You must be able to distinguish the excellent from the mediocre and not just like every film. That would pretty much make your job pointless. Personality wise, construction crisisim and the ability to work with all kind of people would be essential. You cannot be racism or sexism. You must when you undertake this job, be fine and open-minded. To understand people is a complex thing, but you need to give it a chance to blossom. You must be able to understand people and mingle with them. Respect, hope, optimistic, and a bit of luck send you on your way to being a film critic.

Movie stars, the directors, and the producers all mock film critics, even they are just trying to do their job. The bad review is like a bomb that goes off within the Hollywood scene. People’s eyes need to be opened to the fact that not every movie is good. Wouldn’t you get tired of seeing the same bad movies? Well, without a film critic in would be hard. So these critics must be strong-willed and disregard Hollywood and say the truth.

There is much in terms of tasks that are uncommon in any other field. A brief list looks at major things you need to be able to do. You have seen a mountain of movies and are able to divide them into high-quality and dreadful. Like I previously mentioned, if you love every movie you see this job is just not for you. You need to have the ability to write extremely well, choosing words cautiously and carefully. You have the time and fondness to watch and review lots of movies: five or more films a week. Finally, you need an outlet for publishing your work, so that means a job whether on TV or in a newspaper. A salary can get you up to 100,000 grand and beyond! In the United States, there are about 200 major daily newspapers. 1,200; that is the amount of critics in the United States!  The Census Bureau reports there are 280 million people in the U.S. Roughly half of them wish they could be a critic. Competition is intense. Nowadays a critic would start online publishing and work his way in the newspapers televisions, and into people’s hearts!

 

 

 

 

 

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Movies I saw in 2016

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  • Concussion
  • The Revenant
  • Joy
  • The Finest Hours
  • Deadpool
  • How to be Single
  • Eddie the Eagle
  • Zootopia
  • Allegiant
  • Eye in the Sky
  • Hello, My name is Doris
  • The Boss
  • The Jungle Book
  • Hunstman: Winter’s Tale
  • Alice through the looking glass
  • The Nice Guys
  • Me before You
  • Finding Dory
  • Free State of Joneses
  • Mike and Dave need wedding dates
  • Ghostbusters
  • The BFG
  • Now you see me 2
  • Nerve
  • The Secret Life of Pets
  • Café Society
  • Suicide Squad
  • War Dogs
  • Bridget Jones Baby
  • Snowden
  • Masterminds
  • The Girl on the Train
  • Keeping up with the Joneses
  • The Accountant
  • Doctor Strange
  • Fantastic Beasts and where to find them
  • Moana
  • La La Land

(I will provide recommendations)

Ode to My Short Fiction Class (Throwback)

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Ode to Gadies and Lettermen

To sitting across from a complete stranger on August 26th

And reading “Hills like White Elephants”

Ode to Nicole the page princess

Ode to Liz Marie the 1st spiritual leader, blunt and fierce

To the chalkboard and that darn desk that is always loose

To the window that displays only a moment in time

Ode to Civil Peace, Building fires, and Sweat

Ode to living out a Saturday night live skit

For drinking water, coffee, or chocolate milk

And listening to Nick’s wise insight about a story

Or simple pride to say he man handles things

Ode to Ben for declaring a boy becomes a man at age 13

Ode to McKenzie for her insight during The Guest,

Choosing structure over freedom

Ode to Spencer for history lessons and beer critiques

To greasy lakes and Open Boats

Ode to Patrick’s memorable quote about what the blind actually see

To Paul’s open-mindedness – thank you for truly diving into the stories

And seeing so many details, giving us so much to think about

Ode to Scriveners, yellow wallpaper, red convertibles and rocking horses

Ode to Liz for being so peaceful, calm amongst the storm

To Megan for having her i-pod and head on straight, sitting in the back, a buffer

To Brian’s skepticism and humor and baseball caps

Ode to Vlad’s indifference and Antonio’s ability to answer

Questions on the flip of a dime when all seems lost

To Nell, my lucky ninja for sharing her frustration of violent video games

During the things we carried discussion

We all sat there quietly, I tried to imagine it but I just lost myself in realizing

We are not as desensitized as we may think

I foolishly went on and on talking like I had some right others didn’t

I apologize for my loudness and my annoying at times presence.

My many tangents

I apologize for calling foul and pounding on the table like the child

In The use of Force

Ode to Bill for reading

And always being able to say from beginning to end what happened

Ode to Mielas for pointing out the great depression and discussing Native Americans

Ode to chrysanthemums, happy endings, greasy lakes, cathedrals, and the guest

To Desiree’s baby and the newborn thrown…

Ode to Megan’s Solace on the side

Ode to Elly’s grace, glasses, giggle and spot on analysis

This is my Ode to Professor Davros for listening to what ever we

Had to say and for taking jokes with a gram of salt

For coming to class and getting a migraine no doubt

But for absorbing all of our babble into something that makes sense

We sit transfixed, bedazzled.

Some loud, some quiet

Some laughing some texting

Some tired, others pumped for discussions

Ode to Occurrences at Bridges, Necklaces, and Real Things

We came as ordinary people and learned where we are

And where we have been

Leaving my desk and chair I emerge towards the door, and stand realizing

“I prefer not to.”

Ode to Ceramics (Throwback)

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To walking in late the very first day

To immediately start by getting dirty in clay

And meeting my complete opposite

But one of my best friends, Sammi

Ode to Anna’s laugh and

Not caring what everybody says

Ode to Erin’s vase and everlasting patience

Thank you for being skeptical

So I knew the quote on my cup was bogus

To Olia’s rose that by no other name

Would smell as sweet

To Caitlin Coursey’s cup of Squares

An array of sharp, yet shunning symmetry

Ode to Brad’s lightening and peacock feathered cup

To all his clean, careful, and tidy work

Ode to professor’s pot of Gold inspiration from real life

To Irena’s reindeer and fruit treats

Ode to her dragon

To Maria’s chimney and stunning deep planet Plate

To her Imagination Land Boat and love for brick detail

Ode to Patricia Pineda’s Vase with interweaves of vines

Ode to Bridget’s humor and unique pieces

To never surrendering to

The coil or the raku

Ode the Lime I-pod

The medley of music

That calms us

Ode to recycling the clay that doesn’t make until it is reborn

Tempted

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When the moment is right

or wrong

When we find silence

Or you say something and I smile

When I feel that urge inside

Will I be tempted

to throw caution to the wind

to kiss your sweet lips?

 

Where I’m From (throwback Thursday)

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I’m from corduroy jackets and denim jeans.

Running water and yellow Gatorade.

Sometimes when it rains for the window panes never lie,

I’m from wet sidewalks and damp fur.

If Scrabble is out and music pulses through my heart,

Then you know that’s where I’m from.

 

On occasion, if thunder and lightening lurk near,

The warm covers of my bed

Along with an old movie are where I’m from.

Warm pizza and Pepsi-Cola,

As well as silent laughter of a close friend are where I’m from.

When you can fall asleep to the cites

Of a fantasy land with a glass castle-

That is me.

 

I’m from oil paintings of mysterious night skies-

The kind of creases that fascinate my fingers.

The love and joy that I possess flows every so slowly

Onto the canvas before I am even awake.

When the lighthouse I’ve portrayed jumps off the page,

That’s where I’m from.

 

Every so often Harry Potter casts a spell on my world,

And nothing precious to me can be taken away.

My senses celebrate the magic I nourish them with,

For although they cannot tell a soul, they keep my treasures safe.

 

I’m from scraped knees and bruised shoulders.

One kiss and it is all better.

Where I’m from, long walks on the beach

Make for pleasant conversation.

“Mine the darkness and see the path you leave behind.”

Sometimes there is darkness in the distant trees,

But when the night sky is shimmering with shooting stars,

That’s where I’m from.

 

The place where I often dwell is in the front yard with all my flowers.

My lungs praise the October air, and the leaves delight my vision.

Sparkling bubbles from the fountain drizzle onto my body-

That’s where I’m where.

Blast

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The cold air is so harsh and unforgiving

It smothers me, I’m unable to breath

Quickly, I put on my gloves

The frigid air is cruel

The wind whips, mercilessly

I walk cautiously, mouth closed

Cannot breath it in

Once I think that the cold is bearable

The wind suddenly blasts

And I shutter as I go forth