Breaking Bad

In 2009 I worked in a bookstore until the end of the summer when, due to sales that were low and looked to be going even lower, I was laid off. It was a sad moment as the owner, who was the only other person who worked there, and I were close and I enjoyed working there even if it did get a little boring from time to time. However, having no job meant I'd be in desperate need of some money in short time.

So I decided to become a private tutor. I posted ads in the paper and on craigslist but I ended up getting my first client by asking someone if their daughter needed help with English (turns out she did). I'm a big saver when it comes to money but whenever I get my first paycheck at a new job I allow myself to spend it to celebrate that I've started something new (an impressive feat in this economy).

What did I buy? Well I was in the bookstore and stumbled upon a DVD of a television show called Breaking Bad. The first season was on sale for $20. I'd heard good things about it so I picked it up.

If Stephen King and David Lynch defied the laws of nature and somehow produced a child together that child would make a show exactly like Breaking Bad. I was amazed by the quality of the show; it was as deep and as moving as the best books that I've read. It made me wonder why the hell anyone watches dreck like CSI: New Jersey or some other nonsense. This was a show that had something to say, had a LOT of things to say. And it said all of it well. There's nothing worse than a show or a book that has nothing to say and is just *there* which accounts for most books/TV/movies/poetry/plays. Not only had I found something that was interested in treating the audience like they were intelligent but the show also executed its vision properly.

Unfortunately the first season was only seven episodes and I had to wait a couple of months for the second season to come out. Needless to say I watched that in about two evenings. Maybe three. Definitely not four.

As I write this blog I just finished watching the most recent episode of Breaking Bad's fourth, and penultimate, season. It's final shot was not unlike a surreal moment from a Kubrick film and it made me feel completely unnerved, as if the events had happened to me. I have to respect any piece of art that does that and Breaking Bad gets my full respect.

On Dying

My grandfather died shortly before my 8th birthday. It was my first exposure to death. Before that I knew it only in theory and my young brain couldn't quite understand it. I knew that when someone died they didn't come back around to say hello but beyond that the whole concept was a little hazy. So when my parents told me my grandfather, who I called Pop-Pop, had died, I cried because I was sad that I wouldn't see him again. Yet I can't say I really knew what that meant. I had a vague notion of heaven but nothing concrete.

Let's flash forward to this past May. A friend of mine died. I'd known him for a little while and he'd been battling diabetes. He had to have his leg amputated and was fixed with a replacement. Either because the replacement was broken or because he simply wasn't used to walking with it yet, my friend fell and bashed his head open. That killed him.

Now I knew no one in my friend's family and I guess they didn't look through his phonebook so I wasn't contacted right away. I found out a week and a half later. In the time between his death I sent my friend two text messages asking how he was doing. He didn't reply because, well, he was dead and all. In hindsight it was an odd thing. I was talking to a dead man.

I'm an atheist so I've no use for ideas about the afterlife or ghosts or angels. However, having my friend die did force me to wonder what his life meant and if his death had any sort of meaning. I think it's clear that his death had meaning for those around him but for him it had no meaning at all. He's dead and gone now; his life is done. He died way too young.

But let's say he hadn't. Let's say he died at 100. Or, to make it even more personal, let's say I died at 100. Is that a tragedy? Is death really so bad when you've lived for so long? A life being cut short is horrible but is a life that never ends just as bad?

The First Post

I had a hard time coming up with a title for this blog. My first title was "Things That Are Annoying Me" but if I titled it that I would have to update this blog way too often; the post I would have made after the GOP debate would have been enough to end the internet. So I decided to settle on "The Birnam Wood" which is a literary reference because I'm clearly trying to be an ivory tower elitist.

Next I had to figure out how I wanted the blog to be set up which was at least half an hour's work. I started with checking out the different styles, then the font and then the backgrounds. When I realized I could upload my own background I started getting excited (which is rather sad). I did a bit of image searching and decided on the image behind this post. It's The Red Room from David Lynch's Twin Peaks. Lynch is my favorite film director.

I am not sure what my upcoming posts will be about quite yet. Some will undoubtedly touch on politics as I never like to miss an opportunity for a solid rant. Otherwise I'll try and touch on some culture topics and form a mini-essay. Or something. Maybe I will discuss whatever book I'm reading (the chilling Lunar Park by Breat Easton Ellis) or what I'm watching (Season 2 of Sons of Anarchy).

So keep an eye on this blog. I will do my best to be entertaining.