A slice of life may or may not be as good as a slice of fresh peach pie...

This summer was meant to be the Summer of Sewing.  However, since I didn't actually have a sewing machine (a sad fact which has only just been remedied by my awesome mother) that didn't end up happening.  Instead it became the Summer of Adventure and Travel...and let's face it, that's totally as awesome, if not more so, than sewing.

so excited to use this sucker!  Thanks mom!

Things got started with my absolutely awesome trip to Europe in March (a trip which I have been really terrible about documenting...I think I only made it through the first two days of the German leg... :-/ ).  This trip, unfortunately, took rather a toll on the rest of my summer, though this wasn't instantly evident.  Alas, when you spend that much money at the beginning of your summer, the end of your summer can wind up quite poverty stricken--but we'll get to that.  Especially since I regret nothing.  Well, I regret one pair of shoes, but not very much.

you can see why I don't regret them very much....

After Europe I took a month or two break from Travelling (you know, out of the state) but I continued to go on adventures.  I went to...well, nearly to Spiral Jetty.  I went to the Hogle Zoo where I discovered that my childhood enjoyment of zoos has been somewhat tempered in my old age and that now I find them both fascinating and quite depressing (particularly the monkeys...shoot!).  I also learned that carousels will always be awesome, especially ones where you get to ride exotic animals.  

there is no part of riding a bald eagle that is not awesome

It was at this point in my life that I started being aware of those repercussions of that super expensive Europe trip.  Adventures that included lots of gas and/or entrance fees were abandoned.  On the other hand, I promised Anneke that I would attend her wedding reception in Montana.  I couldn't bail on that!  So instead I brought two of her roommates to help pay for gas (and cause they're great girls and stuff) and nearly killed my car and got me to Montana.  I can't find any pictures of that trip (seriously?) so instead I'll post these three pictures I have of Anneke being adorable and awesome

How cute is this girl?

...the answer is:

Pretty darn cute

This was, however, the last nail in the coffin of my finances.  For the rest of the summer I've been bouncing between utterly broke (I mean, utterly) and pretty broke (slightly less broke than utterly).  You might think that this put an end to my adventure times...but you would be wrong!

I was lucky enough to join my friend Collin at the Stadium of Fire to see one of my favorite bands since I was about 3--The Beach Boys.  In case any of you were wondering, they may be getting older, but they still put on a truly awesome show.  The fireworks weren't bad either :)

aww...look at us there gettin' ready to rock this show!

At some point my brother decided that he wanted to go home for a visit and he invited me to come with him.  Spontaneous trips are some of my favorite.  And it was great to have the manly bonding the good sibling bonding time with my brother.  Siblings.  They're kind of the best things ever.  And then it was great seeing my family.  I haven't seen my nieces in about a billion years.  They're getting so OLD!  I also drove down to Price to visit Seth and Rachel and Seth's family.  Such great people!  I will always love that place.  And somewhere in there Tori and I drove up to Salt Lake to attend the Obon festival.  We witnessed some really stellar traditional Japanese dancing, and some less stellar traditional Japanese dancing.  I also wandered over to the City Creek Center for the first time and was treated to an awesome fountain show.  

seriously obsessed with this fountain..

Then there was just the ambient awesomeness of my routine life.  I spent my free time watching various movies, several amazing MST3K episodes, and most importantly all three seasons of Avatar with Matt.  

Matt's farewell party paying homage to Avatar, MST3K, and
his orange juice obsession

this is basically the essence of my summer right here.  Beautiful!

I got to (and continue to be so blessed) drive down to Payson every day for work.  I decided to go on an adventure one day on my way home and discovered a backroads-ish route that I take now when I'm feeling scenic.  I am rewarded with sights like this

Turns out 7 o'clock at the end of August = magic time

How lucky am I?  Pretty dang lucky!

Which brings us to August and my last two trips of the summer (this post has turned out much longer than I meant it to).  Way back at the beginning of summer my mom and I made a brilliant plan.  The plan was put in to action in the middle of August and I drove home one more time with my good friend Mike

brilliant conversationalist is Mike...

Callie also hitched a ride for one more visit home as well.  There was dancing and shooting and movie watching and familial bonding and taking of many pictures.  Good times were had by all.  

The final hurrah was last weekend.  The beautiful Laura McNeil and her equally lovely mother were so kind as to invite me to Fort Collins for Labor Day weekend to see none other than the legendary B.B. King in concert.  Which we did.  Among many many other things.  This post was originally destined to document this trip, but I ended up summing up my whole summer, so I think the details will wait for another post (there were some major life plannings that happened) and instead I'll just leave you with a few more pictures

yeah, those are vintage TMNT comics I used to read as a kid.
Plus the most delicious cream soda on the face of the earth.

my "fairy" costume for the Tour de Fat.  Kinda lame, I know...

everyone else's costumes...

one of my favorite costumes!

me and the awesome sunburn I got after the Tour de Fat.
Notice the really awesome raccoon lines where my makeup was...

100% legitimate Vaudville act which ended with a man juggling a real
chainsaw, a 14 pound bowling ball, and one fake egg

Princess Lollipo!  Another of my favorite costumes.
She gave me a butterscotch candy!

I...I wish I'd bought these...

The dessert of champions at the Chocolate Cafe.  Mmmmmmmm!

the journal I bought in Dublin and the journal I bought in Fort Collins.
I'm really digging the shorter journals--you fill them up faster and get to buy new ones sooner!

the list I made at the beginning of the summer.  Still plenty of things left on there!

And that is that.  My Summer of Adventure and Travel!  Indeed, this is the good life!

The men in my life...

Dads.

technically, this is my uncle, but there he is with
his daughter being a good dad :)

The fact is, I've had my ups and downs with the notion of fatherhood in my life.  There was a long period of time where I didn't feel like I had one at all.  Unfortunately, that is just the way things sometimes turn out when your parents get divorced before your first birthday.

But this post isn't about father issues and angst.  Not at all.  Because I no longer feel fatherless.  On the contrary, I am blessed with not just one, but two truly fantastic men who stand in my life as fathers.

And you know what?  Dads are awesome.

Today was one of those days.  One of those days where my life got crazy and stressful and I wasn't sure what to do or how to do it.  I was talking to Matt and he was being ever so sweet and helpful.  But sometimes that just isn't enough.  Sometimes you need to talk to your dad.

Hal

See, dad's are the eternal solvers of problems.  Did my car break down?  Call my dad.  Is there a problem with my job?  Call my dad.  Am I unsure about this class?  Call my dad.

Of course, all dads are different.  Some are mechanics; they can use their hands and there isn't a machine built they can't fix.  Others are thinkers; they can look at a problem and see the solution no matter how convoluted you think it is.  Others are supporters; they pick you up when you're feeling like you've fallen into an emotional gully.

This is why I am so grateful that I've somehow wound up with two of them.  I get the benefit of both their talents and specialties.

I called both of my dads today.  My first call today was to Larry, my mom's second husband.  He's calm and understanding and very practical.  I called to ask him a huge favor and his answer, without even a moment's hesitation or deliberation, was yes.  Knowing that I had his support helped to calm me down and allowed me to move forward with a plan.  Next I called Hal, my mother's first husband and my biological father (I do not call either of these men by their first name; I just call them both "dad" but this makes it hard to distinguish them...hence the first names).  He was able to help me break down my problem and find a way to get started.  I was completely overwhelmed and had no idea what I was doing, but he was able to help me stand back and find a starting point.

Larry

After talking to them both I had this moment of utter gratitude that I am blessed with not just one of these wonderful men, but two.  I may have felt like I had no father at all when I was younger, but now I'm lucky enough to have both these men in my life.

So here's to dads.  They're one of life's greatest blessings!

Action, Reaction, and Consequence

*DISCLAIMER*
This post deals with really sensitive issues and I understand a lot of people will probably be very upset with me for writing it.  My goal was not to upset anyone, but rather to work through my own thoughts in writing and give others a chance to share their own opinions and experiences.  Also, primarily the situations I am referring to are a limited sample.  That is, I understand that there are plenty of times when the things I'm talking about are completely irrelevant--instances where there is a clear-cut right and wrong and a man very clearly forced himself on a woman against her will.  Please don't think that I am, in any way, trying to dismiss the seriousness of rape or attempted rape or the repercussions it has on its victims.
*DISCLAIMER*

A few weeks ago I had a really intense discussion with my roommate about women's rights, specifically this campaign against the so-called "victim shaming" that sexual assault victims so often experience.  Summer, my roommate, is very passionate about this topic while I had given it little thought, and our conversation really made me stop and think.  Today I read this article by Katie J.M. Baker about why it is important to pay attention to rapists telling their side of the story.  It also presents some very interesting ideas, and, at the risk of painting a target on my back, I would like to share some of my own thoughts.

Over and over throughout the article the point is made that rape isn't just something that happens to modest, virginal girls walking innocently home from class by scary strangers.  It happens to girls with some cleavage showing and lots of leg.  It happens to girls who flirt and tease and fool around.  It happens with guys that girls know.  The point is, even if a girl isn't a demure model of blushing femininity that does not mean that she deserves to be raped.  That word, "deserve," is the key.  No one ever deserves to have something so precious taken from them against their will.  This is the foundation of the fight against victim blaming.  No one deserves to be assaulted, thus your behavior shouldn't matter because no matter what it is...you get the point.

So the fight has been to turn the blame back on the men who are doing the assaulting.  It doesn't matter how "slutty" she dresses or acts, or how convinced you are that really she wants your big bad manliness in her life, the decision to assault her is yours and yours alone.  Women shouldn't have to moderate their behavior because you cannot moderate yours.  It is time for men to grow up and take responsibility for their actions.  No matter what the situation was--no matter what--in the end you were the one who imposed your will on hers, answered your wants above hers, valued your person-hood as being greater than hers.  And don't pull out some bull about how men just "can't help themselves" once they get going.  I think the most surprising part of these men's stories were the men who saw their victims' faces, saw the terror or the pain there, realized what they were doing was wrong, and stopped.  Ms. Baker chooses to focus on the disgusting fact that so few of these attackers even bother to look at their victims in the face, but I'd rather focus on the ones who did and the fact that, too little too late though it may be, these men were able to realize what was happening and stop themselves.  I think there is no stronger argument against the "it's just my nature and I can't help it" than that.

Everything that I have said thusfar I completely agree with.  I stand by it.

And yet...

Having established all of this, I can't help but feel that there is something missing.

The first comment that I saw at the end of this article was from a woman who told her own story of...she didn't want to call it rape.  She explained that she and her friends got drunk and stoned and one of them led her back to the bedroom and they had sex.  She says that she was thinking "no" but she never said it, never did anything to let the man know she wanted him to stop, and even followed him back to the room of her own free will.  She writes about how she doesn't know who to blame--him? herself? her friend who sat by and watched?  She doesn't know.

I think this woman is incredibly brave.  The very next comment is someone assuring her passionately "it's not your fault! It's not your fault!" and telling her to talk to an assault network for support.  They explain that she was not in a state to give consent, and even if she had, since she was so inebriated it wouldn't have "counted," so to speak, anyway.  They are assuring her, essentially, that wherever the blame lies, it is not with her.

But she is not expressing the guilt of a terrorized victim.  Rather, she is looking at the situation, taking all the variables into account, and she is expressing regret that it happened.  And that is why I think she is brave.  Because in a society that is virtually demanding that the blame be heaped upon the head of the man, this woman is willing to say that she shared a part in what happened.  She acted in a certain way, and then she experienced the consequences.

Consequences.  That is what is missing in this story of rape that we have created.

Remember, I do not believe that anyone ever for any reason deserves to have their agency taken from them by another person.  They do not deserve to be treated as an object of gratification rather than a feeling, thinking human being.  No one deserves that.

But actions do not exist in a vacuum.

The fact is, I have always felt uncomfortable with the terms of the fight against "victim blaming".  Women should be able to behave and dress however they want?  I would ask why?  Why should they be given a luxury that no one else has ever been given?

What I see in these debates about rape is a passionate wish to find someone to "blame".  People want something so horrible to be someone's fault.  But blame is a tricky thing.  It is rarely black and white, one or the other.  Nothing happens in isolation, there are always circumstances surrounding it. Women do not ever deserve to be raped, but the fact is that we live in a society.  The way we interact with others tells them how to interact with us.  That is the way it is.  Thus, if a woman behaves in a way that is understood to be encouraging she should not be surprised that men are encouraged.

There is so much that I am thinking and that I want to say, but I think the ultimate point that I want to make is that people seem, more and more, to want their world to exist without consequences.  Women should be able to go out and have a good time without worrying that some slobbering ape of a man will take advantage of them while they're drunk?  But look at it this way--if you are so drunk that you either cannot express your dissent or that you don't even realize that you don't want to, then why is a drunk man supposed to be more responsible?  Pull it even further back--if we, as a society, have embraced a passtime that depends entirely on the lowering of inhibitions and the stripping of our ability to make rational decisions, how can we then be upset when we wake up the next morning to realize that we made stupid decisions?  If we, as a society, reinvent sex as a fun recreational activity shared by friends and strangers, how can we be surprised when some people aren't sure how to take signals and don't know where other people's limits are?

So what am I trying to say?  That we should go back to shaming the victims of assault and assuming that if a girl got "raped" really she was just asking for it and she should stop being such a dang slut?  No.  That's not what I'm saying.  I'm saying, in the end, very much what Ms. Baker was saying.  This is an issue that needs to be discussed.  So many of these men's stories refer to his belief that really she was into it, she wanted him.  We need to find a way to help men understand issues of consent and a way for women to understand issues of communication.  Men: sex is never a given, she can always change her mind, and she has the right to say no.  Women: you are responsible for the situations you put yourselves in, your behavior has consequences, and you cannot expect a person to know anything you do not tell him or her.

One last time, I would like to reiterate that I do not mean to imply that rape is something deserved, or that a person who rapes another person is not ultimately responsible for that decision.  That is the whole point.  We are all responsible for our decisions, no matter how badly we don't want to be.  No matter how much we want events to exist in isolation, they are a part of a whole.  There are actions and there are consequences to those actions.  No matter how badly you want to "blame" someone, to make everything one person's fault, doing so oversimplifies the issue and ignores the real problems.  Everyone needs to take their own responsibility.

Dancing holes in the soles of my shoes...

Ages back my mom and I concocted a plan.  In this plan I was going to go home for a weekend sometime towards the end of summer and I was going to teach a dance workshop to the youth in my home stake.  Then I was going to DJ a dance for them and suddenly the kids would go to stake dances and they would dance and everything was going to be awesome.  It seemed like a good plan except for the part where we completely ignored that we're talking about a bunch of kids between the ages of 14 and 17 and who are we kidding? The day they dive into a dance workshop and learn to dance is the day Snooki buys herself some pearls and joins the DAR.

so much class happening here!
(photo courtesy of People.com)

That is what I thought about during the bulk of the two hour drive up to Pine Valley.  Lured with the promise of a good time (yes, sometimes I lie to people...I had no idea if it actually would be a good time), I had convinced my friend Mike to come with me to help teach.  As of our arrival in the parking lot that was to be our dance space we still hadn't agreed on what style of dance to teach.  I wanted to teach west coast so that the kids would be able to dance to the regular music that would be played.  Mike was doubtful that was going to happen.  I was forced to agree with him when I was finally confronted by over 150 kids huddled in front of me.  There was no way we were going to teach these kids west coast.  Blues it would be!

I then proceeded to give the most rushed, un-inclusive, non-helpful lesson of my life.  In my own defense, it was enough of a challenge just getting the kids to alternate boy/girl/boy/girl and touch each other.  But Mike and I, in about 25 minutes, went over very basic connection, pulse, and taught them how to do a basic, a right turn and a left turn.  With my mother gesturing me to hurry up every few seconds in the background, we wrapped up the pathetic excuse for a lesson and got the music started.  

The rest of the evening, however, was great fun.  Though I played almost every request I got, I also tried to gently broaden musical horizons.  Of course, this had mixed results as, towards the end of the night, a girl pleadingly asked for a "fast song".  Bemused, Mike and I questioned her what sort of fast song she wanted since we had played quite a few fast songs, including two lindy hops, several country swings, and even some line dances.  She looked at us like we were slow and said "I mean some normal music!"  

I really like that knife...
obtained here

For me, however, the entire experience of the Stake Dance was redeemed.  

When I was in mutual I would go to dances and awkwardly sit off to the side.  Rarely, some intrepid young man would tremblingly approach and ask me to dance.  We would rock back and forth, one sweaty hand slipping embarrassingly between shoulder and waist whilst the other encircled my own in a clammy whisper of a grip.   For three minutes, as our eyes circumnavigated the ceiling, the walls, the floor...anything but look at our partner, we would tamp down a tiny circle on the dance floor.  At last the music would end, releasing us, and we would mumble thanks over our shoulders as we hurried back to our respective places. 

Some intrepid boy just like this one...bless his heart
photo from here

But there I was, on a Saturday night, back at a stake dance.  Only I am now 26 years old.  I know how to dance now.  And best of all, I had a partner there with me who was both willing and able to dance with me.  And dance we did.  To the insufferable and eternal Cottoneye Joe we danced the Polka.  When Open Arms was requested we waltzed.  We even threw in some Cha Cha, though I don't remember which song that one was.  And of course, there was blues and west coast (and some very westified lindy).  It is amazing what a difference those small changes can make in the same event...

We danced the whole night and our post-dance energy buzz completely confounded mom.  I think just listening to us talk was making her and dad tired.  

The next day me, dad, and Mike drove up to go shooting.  Walking across the rock pit to set up targets I realized the full extent of my fun the night before.  

Yes.  That's right.  I danced a hole in my shoe.  

Happiness is in the little things...

In my blog post about the Descendants I mention at the end how I sort of created this future memory for myself.  That is, after watching that scene at the end I decided that I would have such a moment in my life someday, and I became nostalgic for a memory that has not yet happened.  The thing is, I have a lot of these future memories.  I look forward to the rest of my life avidly and I have so many ideas about how I want it to be.  Does anyone else do that?

Last night I had this beautifully displacing moment where I created a future/present memory that fulfilled that anticipatory nostalgia.  I was driving to the airport with Matt to pick up his roommate.  It was late at night, the windows were down and my hair was blowing like crazy, my feet were up on the dash, and Matt was, in his words, "indoctrinating [me] in some of the best music on earth".  That is, he was playing me his favorite songs by New Model Army, telling me how he felt about them when he was in high school.  It was warm outside and there was a great big, orange, half moon rising over the mountains.

Are you ever in the midst of a moment and, just for a flash, you slip outside of yourself and look at where you are and what you're doing and realize that everything is perfect?  Sitting in that car, listening to Matt talk about how much he loved this song and the next song and the next song, with the warm wind....it was a perfect moment.  I was absolutely happy.

And then, it was like I slipped even further back and looked at my life like a story rather than a living breathing series of events.  This moment I was in, it was the sort of moment that people write about in stories or try to depict in movies-- a sort of Platonic Form of a College Memory.  The sort of fabricated "memories" that you almost resent in stories because they're too perfect and too staged and they make you long for things that aren't really even real.  And yet, here I was living in one.  I knew, in that second, that this was the sort of thing that I would look back on, when I have kids getting ready for college, and I would tell them about it to explain to them why college is such a wonderful place and they should be so excited to go there.  And they wouldn't really understand, but I would glow a little bit within myself remembering how happy I was.

After that my night continued to be utterly lovely.  On the way back from the airport we progressed from New Model Army to They Might Be Giants, and then to Nickel Creek.  Matt and I both love this song and we sang it with enthusiasm.  Then, because Matt's roommate Brenden wanted to thank him, we tried to find a Wendy's that was open.  We succeeded at the third one.  Over salted fries and vanilla frosty...

Then we came back to my beloved Campus Plaza and we sat in front of my apartment in the twilight glow of the lamps and we talked.  Matt is leaving soon.  In fact he is leaving on Friday, though he will come back a few times before he leaves forever at the end of the month.  I can't begin to explain how much I will miss him.  He's been my best friend, one of the best I've ever had.  And I'm sure we will continue to be good friends, but it won't be the same.  He won't live 30 feet away.  He will live two thousand miles away.  So when we stay up till 3:30 talking I appreciate every second of it.  And I guess that's how I want to end this post.  With a dedication to Matt (though he'll probably laugh at me for this) and a thank you.  I know it's rather wretchedly sentimental.  But thanks, Matt, for listening to me whine, and for trusting me so much, and for introducing me to Avatar, and for laughing at Frasier with me, and talking to me, and just for being you.

More thoughts on Batman and morality and stuff...

When The Dark Knight came out, there were a lot of people who quietly said "hmmm...this movie is too much for me."  However, the overwhelming popular response to the film (of which I was very much a part) was one of unabashed adoration.  It's difficult to express your opposing opinion in the face of that much passion, I understand.  But with the Aurora shooting these people have, I think, felt empowered.  Here is a tangible (and horrible) act that validates how they've been feeling all along: movies about violence beget violence.  

I wrote a blog post a couple of days ago defending the Dark Knight as one of my favorite movies of all time. I tried to explain why I personally did not feel that it was too dark.  I should have made that statement more clear--I acknowledge that the movie absolutely has darkness, a great amount of it.  The point I was trying to make was not that the movie isn't dark, but that the darkness serves a purpose.  A purpose that, to me, is worthwhile.  

I have a couple of friends who have been very vocal about the reasons that they dislike these movies.  One friend, in particular, has shared with me a lot of quotes from LDS General Authorities about the need to keep the spirit present at all times, partaking of good things, and watching what we let into our lives.  If you are interested in reading these quotes, and they are certainly worth reading, you can see most of them here.  

However, as much as I have heard people speaking out against the Batman movies, I have heard just as many, if not more, very vocally opposing them.  Arguments that "guns don't kill people, people kill people" and "bad people will do bad things regardless of the media they watch and the laws we enact".  I had a conversation with a good friend of mine who pointed out that James Holmes was clearly insane and trying to argue that his behavior has anything to do with the behavior of a sane person is absurd.  People make their decisions and trying to control them with gun control laws and censorship is pointless.

I have generally been in the latter group.  My reasoning has been fairly simple.  I have watched the Batman movies, or even Taken, a film that I find much much more disturbing, and I have not taken my .22 rifle and shot anyone with it.  Nor have the majority of the thousands of other people who have also seen those movies, or movies infinitely worse.  The evidence of all the people out there watching movies and not shooting people suggests that violent films do not lead to violence.  

But...sometimes they do.  The fact is James Holmes was "inspired" by the Joker.  Now, you can say "Hey, he made a choice.  The movie didn't make him kill anyone, he chose to kill people."  Yes, technically that is true.  And frankly, I am as enthusiastically opposed to attempts at regulating people's lives as I can be about anything political.  I think trying to fix problems by passing laws is ineffectual and idiotic.  But I can't help but feel like American society has become addicted to ideas of individuality and independence to an unhealthy degree.  The cult of Live and Let Live has taken a choke-hold on our society, right down to the way we raise our children--"I just need to let little Sally and Johnny be who they are!"  Nevermind that who they are is a screaming hellion who will later grow up to make my life and many others miserable.  

Society is growing ever more isolated and we are losing our connections to our neighbors.  Partially this is because it is human nature to bristle against people "telling me what to do!"  But I think there is also another reason.  People don't want to feel responsible; they don't want to feel guilty.  If everyone can do what they want and no one is the boss of me then when something terrible like the Aurora shooting--or the Columbine shooting, or any one of the great host of horrible things that have been done in the history of the world--happens, I don't have to feel guilty.  I can feel sad for the victims, and I can feel horrified at the brutality, and I can feel angry at the perpetrator, but I don't ever have to feel responsible.  I don't ever have to feel as though such a thing, whatever the thing may be, was in any way my fault.  

How does a man become so delusional that he pretends to be the Joker and decides to kill innocent, random strangers without anyone noticing? 

Reality argues that no matter what we do there will always be crazy people doing crazy horrible things.  And honestly, I agree with my friend who said "I admit, I don't feel at all responsible for the Aurora shooting.  I didn't make him pick up a gun."  I don't think that the fact that I love The Dark Knight and the Dark Knight Rises means that it was my fault that a man 500 miles away from me lost the distinction between reality and fiction.  Nor do I think that the fact that I own a gun and would vote against gun regulation places blame on me for people I've never met deciding to kill.  

But maybe it should?

I don't know.  I really don't.  I wish I had some sort of conclusion to this post.  

But I wanted to write it to say that I understand.  I understand why my friends feel sick after watching movies full of violence.  I understand why the leaders of my church preach against violence and immorality and the desensitization such things can cause.  I agree with them.  I feel that society, as a whole, needs to realize that sometimes you DO have to take responsibility for the bad things that individuals do because, like it or not, human beings are social beings.  

As for my life, and the incongruities and contradictions that, perhaps, it exhibits, maybe I am wrong, or maybe I am living as best I can right now.  I don't know which of those is correct.  I know that I hate being told what to do just as much as anyone (possibly more than a lot).  I know that I truly do love the movies The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises and see legitimate moral values in them.  I know that I'm trying to be a good person.  So...wherever that leaves us...is up to you I guess...

Thoughts on Batman, Rising and Risen

Do you guys remember my SPATULA?  Well, first off, that died.  I didn't get the grant, so if I do end up doing that project it will be unfunded.  But the point of bringing it up is to use it as an example of how much I love the movie The Dark Knight.  That movie is, in my opinion, as pretty near perfect as a film can be.  I will go into why I feel that way a little later on, but you can imagine how excited I've been for The Dark Knight Rises with that sort of parentage, can't you?

I'm not the only one.  In fact, my excitement has been relatively tame compared to some I know.  I actively tried to avoid trailers and other promotional materials because in this case I didn't want to go into the movie already feeling like I knew what was going to happen.  And because I had this suspicion.  I was worried that this was going to be one of those movies where the hero gets pummeled beyond my idea of human endurance and I wouldn't want to watch it anymore.  And I didn't want to have to worry about that, so I just avoided watching the trailers.  Fun fact: it was not one of those movies.  In case you were worried like me.  

But anyway, I was super excited.  However, just as I was walking in to the theatre at 6:59 pm on Thursday evening I realized something.  There was no possible way that this movie was going to live up to my expectations!  That is, the chances were virtually zero.  I mean, Christopher Nolan is the guy who gave us Inception and The Dark Knight.  The expectations I had for him as a master storyteller were practically inhuman.  So, while it was possible that this film would be as good as I was hoping, I took a moment to prepare myself for it not to be.  Turns out this was a good thing.  

Now this is not to say that I didn't love The Dark Knight Rises.  First and foremost, please remember that, when I say that this movie did not live up to the one before it, that is comparing to an insanely high standard, and falling short of that standard still leaves the movie at a higher level than most others.  So please remember that, for the rest of this post.  Though I was disappointed (how could I not have been?) I still really liked the movie.  I would say it was as good as Inception...

I will put the rest of this post under a cut, so that you can avoid it if you've not yet seen the movie...