Hellboy muse

Just watched the telecast of “Hellboy” on chl 5. It ended off with:

“What makes a man a man? A friend of mine once wondered. Is it his origins? The way he comes to life? I don’t think so. It’s the choices he makes. Not how he starts things, but how he decides to end them. ”

Behind all the fighting, heroism and special effects, I feel that this movie brings across an important message about the judgement of character. It is a fact that we judge the people we encounter; to say otherwise would be a lie. Be it a derogatory whisper in the back of our minds about a person’s skin colour or whether the sides of our eyes wrinkle when we laugh at a joke by someone, we unvoluntarily form words to describe that person. The sad fact is that most people judge a person by his physical appearance, something that is inherited and difficult to change.

What makes us shun people who are very different from us is “fear” and “lack of knowledge”. The monsters portrayed in the movie are equipped with the capabilities to kill people and thus, injected fear into the general population but that doesn’t mean they do not have the faculty to make wise choices. It is therefore very important not to judge and dismiss a person too quickly.

Speaking of which, this reminds me about a recent conversation I heard about a guy that have high physical expectations where is comes to choosing a partner in life. I’ve heard many times the first few things men say when asked about the type of girls they go for. It will go something like long hair, big eyes…blah blah blah before intelligence for example. Sometimes even the last bit of inner beauty is not even included in their list. What then are they offering in return? If only they judged themselves first.

What makes us Human…

Following is the closing lines from Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Trials and Tribulations aka Phoenix Wright 3.

(It’s only natural for living creatures to fight to protect their own lives.)

(But what makes us human is that we fight for others.)

(But who do you fight for? How hard must you fight…?)

(That’s the true measure of what human life is worth.)

(We defense attorneys are warriors who are constantly challenged by that question.)

(Even when the battle is over, and the bonds that connect us are severed…)

(We always return… Time and time again.)

(Mia, Maya, Pearls, Mr. Armando…)

(…and Maya’s mother, too…)

(I learned that… from all of them.)

CSI 503: Harvest

Daniel: I didn’t realize until… today… how lucky I am. I know pretty much… how and when I’m gonna die. Most people don’t. It’s what they’re afraid of.

Grissom: Was your sister afraid?

Daniel: Never. I’m 11 years older than her, and she took care of me. She was my best friend, and I miss her. As much pain as…I caused her… and she wouldn’t give up, and she…she wouldn’t let me, either. That’s why…during the last relapse, I made my parents swear that it was the very last time.

Grissom: But then your kidneys failed, and they broke their word, huh?

Daniel: They told me they… swore not to fight the cancer, so this didn’t count. I wasn’t gonna lose this fight. I couldn’t watch her suffer anymore.

Grissom: This wasn’t a mercy killing, Daniel. This was an execution. Bone marrow, transfusions…that’s her blood in your veins. It dripped out of your nose onto the blanket while you were killing her. If you cared so much for Alicia, why didn’t you take your own life instead of hers?

Daniel: Suicide isn’t an option. It’s an unforgivable sin in the eyes of God.

Grissom: But you believe that your god forgives murder? If that’s your defense, it won’t keep you out of jail.

Daniel (crying): But my death will. See, I’ve got about six more months. I’ll be dead before there’s even a trial. I-I do want to thank you, though.

Grissom: For what?

Daniel: For speaking for Alicia. You’re probably the first person in her life to think only of her. You know, you may not believe in God, sir, but you do his work.

[CSI @ TV.com]

It’s been a busy week. Lots of stuff came and went by and it’s taking the years away from my life. If you still visit, yes, I’m still alive. (With muscle aches and huge eyebags.)

I would love to go on updating, musing and sharing my grouses but I can barely keep my eyelids up now. Till much later.

Meanwhile, here’s a quote from semi pro that left a lasting impression (Out of all the rubbish funny stuff) :

“You’re so hard to love because you hate yourself”

If you know me long enough you should know the context of it. Off to catch up on much needed sleep.

Creativity and Passion…

I just happen to chance upon this movie, Accepted, on HBO while channel surfing during dinner. I finished watching the rest of the show and here I quote you one of the last scenes which I feel rather thought-provoking:

Bartleby Gaines: Nah, I’m not going to answer your question, ’cause you guys have already made up your minds. I’m an expert in rejection, and I can see it on your faces. And it’s too bad that you judge us by the way we look and not by who we are. Just because you want us to be more like them when the truth is we’re not like them. And I am damn proud of that fact. I mean, Harmon College and their – and their 100 years of tradition. But tradition of what? Of hazing kids and humiliating anyone who’s a bit different? Of putting so much pressure on kids they turn into these – these stress freaks and caffeine addicts.
Dean Van Horne: Your phony school demeans real colleges everywhere!
Bartleby Gaines: Why? Why can’t we both exist? Huh? You can have your grades, and your rules and your structure and your ivory towers, and then we’ll do things our way. Why do we have to conform to what you want?
Dean Van Horne: Your curriculum is a joke, and you, sir, are a criminal.
Bartleby Gaines: You know what? You’re a criminal. ‘Cause you rob these kids of their creativity and their passion. That’s the real crime! Well, what about you parents? Did -did the system really work out for you? Did it teach you to follow your heart, or to just play it safe, roll over? What about you guys? Did you always want to be school administrators? Dr. Alexander, was that your dream? Or maybe no, maybe you wanted to be a poet. Maybe you wanted to be a magician or an artist. Maybe you just wanted to travel the world. Look, I – I – I – I lied to you. I lied to all of you, and I’m sorry. Dad, especially to you. But out of that desperation, something happened that was so amazing. Life was full of possibilities. A – and isn’t that what you ultimately want for us? As parents, I mean, is – is that, is possibilities. Well, we came here today to ask for your approval, and something just occurred to me. I don’t give a shit. Who cares about your approval? We don’t need your approval to tell us that what we did was real. ‘Cause there are so few truths in this world, that when you see one, you just know it. And I know that it is a truth that real learning took place at South Harmon. Whether you like it or not, it did. ‘Cause you don’t need teachers or classrooms or – or fancy highbrow traditions or money to really learn. You just need people with a desire to better themselves, and we got that by the shit at South Harmon. So you can go ahead, sign your forms, reject us and shoot us down, and do whatever you gotta do. It doesn’t really matter at this point. Because we’ll never stop learning, and we’ll never stop growing, and we’ll never forget the ideals what were instilled in us at our place. ‘Cause we are SHIT heads now, and we’ll be SHIT heads forever and nothing you say can do or stamp can take that away from us! So go!

Apparently, it was in our theatres but I never got the chance to watch it. I wanna watch it from start to end, if anyone knows how I can get my hands on a copy, please let me know!

End Game

When I die…
I have lost friends, lost my father, my mentor, to the greatest of mysteries called death. I have known grief since the day I left my homeland, since the day wicked Malice informed me that Zaknafein had been given to the Spider Queen. It is a strange emotion, grief, its focus shifting. Do I grief for Zaknafein, for Montolio, for Wulfgar? Or do I grief for myself, for the loss I must forever endure?It is perhaps the most basic question of mortal existence, and yet it is one for which there can be no answer…

Unless the answer is of faith.

I am sad still when I think of the sparring games against my father, when I remember the walks beside Montolio through the mountains, and when those memories of Wulfgar, most intense of all, flash through my mind like a summary of the last several years of my life. I remember a day on Kelvin’s Cairn, looking out over the tundra of Icewind Dale, when young Wulfgar and I spotted the campfires of his nomadic people. That was the moment when Wulfgar and I truly became friends, the moment when we came to learn that, for all the other uncertainties in both our lives, we would have each other.

I remember the white dragon, Icingdeath, and the giant-kin, Biggrin, and how, without heroic Wulfgar at my side, I would have perished in either of those fights. I remember, too, sharing the victories with my friend, our bond of trust and love tightening — close, but never uncomfortable.

I was not there when he fell, would not lend him the support he certaintly would have lent me.

I could not say “Farewell!”

When I die, will I be alone? If not for the weapons of monasters or the clutch of disease, I surely will outlive Cattie-brie and Regis, even Bruenor. At this time in my life I do firmly believe that, no matter who else might be beside me, if those three were not, I would indeed die alone.

These thoughts are not so dark. I have said farewell to Wulfgar a thousand times. I have said it everytime I let him know how dear he was to me, everytime my words or action affirmed our love. Farewell is said by the living, in life, every day. It is said with love and friendship, with the affirmation that that memories are lasting if the flesh is not.

Wulfgar has found another place, another life — I have to believe that, else what is the point of existence?

My very real grief is for me, for the loss I know I will feel till the end of my days, however many centuries have passed. But within that loss is a serenity, a divine calm. Better to have known Wulfgar and shared those very events that now fuel my grief, than never to have walked besides him, fought beside him, looked at the world through his crystal-blue eyes.

When I die… may there be friends who will grieve for me, who will carry our shared joys and pains, who will carry my memory.

This is the immortality of the spirit, the ever-lingering legacy, the fuel of grief.

But so, too, the fuel of faith.

— Drizzt Do’Urden

The Legacy, R.A. Salvatore