"...but sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile seems so long."

"Your name is John Coffey?"

"Yes sir boss. Like the drink, only not spelled the same."


I had the wonderful opportunity tonight of watching Stephen King's 'The Green Mile' on television with my siblings. To be honest, I am not a fan of the author... he's one of my least liked authors. iDislike, perhaps? Unsurprisingly, films based on his works have not left good impressions on me either, excepting Kubrick's 'The Shining' (which any sane person will recognize as a timeless masterpiece of the silver screen). So it came as a bit of a surprise to me when my brother announced that the Green Mile was based on a story written by Stephen King. If all surprises came in as good a package as this film, then I would gladly welcome them.

Alright, so I'm a little behind with the movies these days. A lot of people have praised Hank and Duncan for their excellent performances-- even King for this touching but haunting tale of a man condemned by his own gift. So iWon't take that beaten path. I want to talk about this movie as more than just a movie but as an actual effect on one's perspective on life. You see, prior to watching the Green Mile, I was thinking to myself (philosophically) about what justifies a life. And iDon't mean our purpose on this planet or why God put us here. I mean, when you're dying and death is a strange man knocking at your door: what do you have to say for yourself? As Tom Hank's character put it, "When I die and stand before God..."

Hedonism is a lifestyle that I find has always come to odds with this question. I mean nothing serious against the pleasure-seekers of this world but it does occur to me that they may not have anything to say before God. Or if you do not believe in Him, then before their end (for is not Death a force of its own, making all men answerable to it?). So there it is. I watched this movie and I thought to myself, in reference to the character of John Coffey, there was a man who knew what to say. Well, to be specific, there was a man. Sometimes iThink that few people truly die as men. I am no authority on death or on what it takes to be a real man but this is simply a thought you must read slowly-- that if you have given to this world some good despite any amount of suffering it has given you, then maybe you can die a man. Maybe you'll have something to say.

If you think this is rubbish then I have been reading too many books lately and watching too many movies. But I hope my words mean something or it'd be a terrible waste of my hurting brain. Nonetheless, iWill write again about some of those books I've been reading. Heart of Darkness, A Passage to India and Ender's Game. Goods ones. A couple of them are even on my iLove list.



Write you later. Go read something.


-The illiterate Blogger-

iAdmit that iLike Comics.

Alright, I'm not sure if iHave talked about this before. But I'll admit it now-- iLike comics.

I ain't just talking about the charming little Sandman you see here on the left. Superman, Batman, Spider-man, X-men. I've read 'em and iHave (mostly) liked 'em.

There seems to be a prejudice or a sort of snobbishness in certain breeds of adults that causes them to snub comic-reading. I'm talking 'bout all you people out there who snort at the mention of Kal-El or Peter Parker. The Sunday funnies seem to be about the only sort of comics you lot can take. Anyhow: as you can tell, this isn't your sort of entry if you're not open-minded enough to the realm of graphic novels and fantasical themes.



Rewind (<<) a decade back. As a child, iRead a decent number of books. Children's books. Abridged classics. Poetry. Short stories. Comics. Putting aside the many days spent laughing at Calvin 'n' Hobbes or the hours that have slipped by grinning with Garfield, iWas an avid intruder of my brother's more "hard-core" comic collection. Thor, Warlock, Superman (plus his many variations), Spawn. They were as interesting to me as any other book I had read. You could find intricate plots-- fleshed out characters -- wit -- little notes from the editor, even. And there was a good deal of art.

Perhaps it takes a mind tempered with childishness and utter youth to disregard the flippancy of superpowers or planet-eating Giants.

So there's my opinion, I suppose. That somewhere between the flying-people and occasionally banal lines, comics hide a dream of impossibility. Not everyone can find it and maybe novels make us understand it using different terms. iDon't want to put down those people who don't like comics-- as long as they don't put down comics. It's one thing to say you don't like something and another thing to devalue its existence.

On that note: I highly recommend Neil Gaiman's "The Sandman" comics to anyone who has a fundamental understanding comic types. "Fables" is also a newfound favourite of mine. Those of you who can't tell Marvel apart from DC (poor souls...), I'm sure your novel-isque ways would affirm to...let's see... "Pride of Baghdad", perhaps?

If you were wondering why the illiterate blogger has brought up this subject of comics on her unfortunately neglected blog, then take a look at this year's movie listings. That's right. Iron Man. Hellboy. The Incredible Hulk. The Dark Knight. The movie-goer in me has been most pleasurably engaged to my affinity for comic books. The latest Batman film was an intense, entertaining experience... the only thing keeping me from telling you to STOP READING THIS BLOG and go out to WATCH THE DARK KNIGHT is my polished sense of vanity.


Now. How many of you have attended or dreamt of attending an Oxbridge University? iWas watching the History Boys with some of my college friends recently and it is a decidedly controversial movie. Homophobics and not-very-bright people are warned against watching it as there are strong themes of homosexuality as well as some rather learnt wittiness that could or could not offend various audiences. The movie revolves around a group of intelligent (but nonetheless juvenile) boys who are intent on studying History at Oxford University. Their endeavors are coupled with the other confusing pains of growing up in British society. iWould not consider this as one of the films iLove but I did enjoy it and I can imagine that many people in their late teens would also enjoy the History Boys.


Alright. iThink that I'll leave it here. All this talk of comics and movies-- iHave forgotten to speak of books. Fear not, intrepid reader! iShall soon write of my latest illiterate exploits and then some more.


Write you later. Go read something.



-The illiterate Blogger-

iMiss that little thing we call sleep.

iMiss that little thing we call sleep.

To those of you intimate with the ways of the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme, you know what I'm talking about. Unless you're *really* devoid of a social life (or studying is your social life).

iAm drawing close to the end of my second term of the IB programme here in England-- it's been one hell of a ride, across borders and cultures.


But let's not get into the tedious process of describing my life changes. I'd like to talk about sleep. Anyone reading this, iWould like you to know that if you get more than 5 hours of sleep on an average weekday, you're definitely getting more sleep than 40-50% percent of the students at this college (self-included). Am I exaggerating? iKid you not, readers! Over the last four nights, slumber in the land of rolling countrysides has been brief or at least interrupted. No fear however-- the IB student population makes it all up by sleeping for 8 to 10 hours straight on Saturday nights.

iBet you're wondering: "Why is the illiterate blogger telling me about sleep deprivation?" Well, the illiterate blogger tends to ramble about silly things when she's not feeling so awake. Silliness aside, let's talk theater. Show of hands, those of you who have seen "Wicked: The Musical" or a production of Shakespeare's "Measure for Measure"!

Yes, you saw this coming. I'm about to tell you to get off your comfortable reading couch/armchair/bed and go watch one or the other. Or read the book(s), which I've done with the latter and plan to do with the former, in good time. Strong, masculine men may want to sit out on "Wicked" unless they're looking to impress lovely lady friends. Make sure you know your Wizard of Oz before checking it out, however.

"Measure for Measure" is something I'm more interested in on an intellectual level. My classmates and I watched a modern production of the play in Oxford-- it was, to say the least, entertaining. Not a boring moment (some of the bits were cut out) to be seen and lots to ponder afterwards. This is probably the first of Shakespeare's plays iHave read that has caused me to ask myself: where is the line between black humour and mere bleakness? In the audience, we laughed and joked and smirked... yet at the end, there is this strange thought that lingers, wondering if you should have laughed or cried.

In case you were wondering (though iKnow you weren't), these two productions definitely go under the "iLike" category.

Alright, time to hit the sack! iWant to get some of that sleep people have been talking about. God help the person who wakes me up anytime before 9 in the morning.