Be Gone, bin Laden

photo courtesy of Michael Yon

It is rarely appropriate to rejoice an individual's death. To lose a positively contributing member of society is lamentable, always, but inevitable. And when a rotten person dies, it may end the suffering of others, but that they have lost the opportunity to turn themselves to light before their death is a tragedy.

Osama bin Laden, however, was a pitch black stain on the world. He did more to damage the reputation of Islam than did any other believer, but, more and worse, he cast a shadow over the entire institution of religious devotion. It is because of the supremely evil actions of people like him that the secular world grimaces at the determinedly devout. How often do we hear that religion has been a greater cause of human suffering than anything else in our history? We have mosters like bin Laden to thank for that.

I am devout. I am not Muslim, I am Christian, but I respect profoundly the intrinsically peaceful and selfless tenets of Islam that mirror the best of what Christianity has to offer. Bin Laden perverted the religious fervor of many Muslims, and twisted love into hate. He built a fortress of corruption upon a deeply tainted perspective of man's relationship to God. Surely by his actions he became a servant of the Destroyer. He was evil more for those lives he broke than those he helped end.

We should all lift our heads in a unified satisfaction that his life has been ended at the hands of his enemies, and that he has no more power to personally contribute to the abominations of this world. Now, finally, he will meet his God, whose name he so so abused with his time upon the Earth.

Final Cut on 2190

First, here's a thing you should watch:

Now I'm going to ask you to go take a look at my post about Final Cut on my new blog. You can read a bit about it's history and why it's important, as well as why I think students should submit their work to festivals. 

Or, if you really, REALLY don't want to go check out my new blog (which is, incidentally, a lot prettier than this one), then here are some Final Cut links that you might/should care about:

Get your tickets here (or at the HFAC ticket office)

The Facebook Event

The Website

Also, you may have some deep thoughts you'd like to share about that video I included at the beginning of this post. (transparent request for comments [good ones])

2190: A Brand New Blog

Like it? I designed it myself. Booyah.

I'm finally going live today with a new blog I've been working on. I'm calling it 2190 (say it in two numbers: "twentyone ninety"), and it's about, for lack of a better or more succinct description, film studenting. For a better and longer description of what it's all about, go check out the first post. I'll be updating it every Wednesday at noon, starting THIS Wednesday at noon, so...look forward to that.

I'll still be using this blog for everything else. I'll be talking about my life, my opinions, my experiences--sharing whatever about whatever, whenever. I'm not interested in making this a disciplined and focused blog. I need at least one public repository to use for the unrestrained dumping of the contents of my mind.

That said, I DO want to get into the more disciplined world of blogging, so I figured I'd have to start another one that I could actually follow through with. Those of you who have followed my sad efforts at blogging up to this point probably faintly (maybe) remember my past attempts at starting new blogs. I'll ask you not to talk about them. They'll stay hidden in the ether of ambiguity for the foreseeable future.

But I'm pretty excited about 2190. I have a lot to say on the subjects I'll be tackling. Here's what I'd love from you: if you find value in my new blog, follow it. And then share it with other people you think might be interested. And, as always, I'm interested in conversation. As much as I want to write about some things, I also want to know what my readers have to say, or want to talk about.

The same goes, of course, for this blog, now and always. If you ever have a thought bubble up into your frontal lobe, let it out through your fingers in the comments.

Harvey Milk

Some thoughts after watching The Times of Harvey Milk. (A transcription of my response to the film in Documentary History.)

Homosexuality is about the most complex and difficult subject around right now. There seem to be two opposing camps, on completely different sides of this dividing line of "right and wrong." I say "seem" because I think that many, many people find themselves somewhere in the middle. Some are lost, some are resolute. But the people who see themselves as standing firmly on one "side," in one "camp," are wrong. It isn't simple enough of an issue.

This documentary mapped the progress of a movement that is important, but that is not without its flaws. I'm speaking of the movement itself, which, in an effort to gain momentum, strength, and legitimacy, so often ignores or even shuns some of the objections that are leveled against it. This film, though earnest and significant, did not manage to avoid this problem: Harvey Milk was a hero; the things he fought for were Right and Good; those who opposed him were deeply and profoundly Wrong; his primary enemy was evil. 

It is a testament to the power of martyrdom that these assertions will go unchallenged by the film's audiences. It's hard to argue with a dead guy, especially one who was killed for his beliefs. It's ironic that in murdering his perceived enemy, Dan White accomplished the very thing his "nemesis" could never have done on his own. White inadvertently immortalized Harvey Milk. 

I'm not being cynical, just frank. I believe that much of what Milk did was good for society. Homosexuals are not evil. They do not, by their natures, deserve violence or hate. They are people, just like all other people, with all of their problems. I think Harvey Milk was a good man, who courageously served and fought for what he believed, and, in large measure, for the down-trodden of his era. 

We're in an interesting age now, though. It seems almost impossible to be seen as anything but a close-minded, hate-filled bigot if you still think homosexuality is wrong and say so. If you still find the idea of same-sex marriage fundamentally problematic. I do think some people are "born that way." I don't know and don't care how many or how often, or even why. I still think it's an issue. Lots of people are born with unfortunate things to deal with. And I'm not going to say we should reach out and love them anyway--I am going to say we all ought to love each other, no matter what. This isn't about accepting homosexuals or homosexuality, it is about accepting people, deep disagreements notwithstanding.

To be honest, my real fear is that the friends that I have, and the friends that I will make in the future, who are homosexual or advocate it, will not be able to accept my conviction that homosexuality, as a practice, is still wrong, no matter how good the person, or how difficult the life.

Please feel free to share YOUR thoughts. I'd like this to be a conversation, rather than a rant or diatribe. 

Thank You, World

Today, it was announced at Sarah Jessica Parker's Florida estate that I, Jordan Petersen, will be President of the Universe from today, the 1st day of April, until Sol explodes or an installment of Sex and the City receives an Academy Award for Best Picture--whichever comes first--at which time a new President of the Universe will be chosen (i.e. never).

The announcement should come as no surprise to those who know me well. I've always had an aptitude for ruling over other people, and the development that I will now be ruling over everyone seems only natural and fitting.

I recognize that the title "President of the Universe" is a bit misleading, since I will technically only be presiding over the humans of Earth. But should extra-terrestrial humans make contact with me (via my cellular telephone, my Shreck(TM)-shaped mailbox, or my fax machine), I will happily preside over them as well.

While I'm very happy to fill this role, and gratefully willing to spread the word, I understand that there are some people who may be disappointed by this news. To them, I offer the sincere hope that they perish quickly and ignominiously at the hands of foul-smelling, hideous people.

Please check this blog at least once every week for instructions on how to live your life better than you would have without me.

Libya

Our war focused military engagement with Libya is over oil.
This is what happened. The country started to fall apart, thanks in no small measure to a terrible regime that suppressed and killed its own people, who then justifiably rebelled. But a broken country yields no commodities. And guess who depends on Libya for oil? Ireland, France, Germany, Spain, Austria, Switzerland, Portugal, and Greece, among others. So when Libya started cracking, guess who came knocking on our door for help?

Please don't misunderstand me. I'm glad we're there. Our involvement will, I am hopeful, leave Libya's people much better off in the long run. But if not for oil, we wouldn't be there. The clear-thinking among us have asked quite simply, "Why Libya?" It is certainly not the only nation ruled by a horrible regime. There are plenty of other places with as dire need for military assistance (read: most of Africa). It's a simple answer. It almost always comes down to what we need, or, in this case, what Europe needs.

And I say fine. Can YOU come up with a better reason to go to war? Think about it. Oil makes the world go round, in an almost literal sense. Without it, we're toast. We need stable governments piping the stuff to us, or we'll die. I mean that literally, since economic collapse leads to all sorts of hazardous circumstances, like rioting, looting, anarchy and starvation. Going to war over oil is sort of like the old tribal wars over water in desert nations. Without it, we die.

European governments are suddenly supportive and encouraging of our military actions, and surprisingly few people seem to point out why that might be. It's as though everyone is content to assume we're simply in it for the Libyans. Wouldn't it be great if we were? Wouldn't it rock if we went to bat for every country, great or small, that needed us? I think it would be great.

But that's not the world we live in. We go to war for oil (justifiably), but won't and probably can't (politically) admit it. And right now, I'm troubled by the whole system. I'm frustrated by the administration's refusal to fess up to the real motivations for this conflict, and I'm frustrated by the rest of us, who don't care enough to read enough about this stuff to come up with opinions that aren't fed to us by the mainstream media, which is itself little more than a terrible, uncomfortable, never-ending joke.

All I'm saying (and I'll readily acknowledge that I'm not saying it well) is that our government has a terrible relationship with its citizens. And while the relationship is maintained stubbornly by both sides, when it comes right down to it, the citizens shoulder most of the blame, since our democratic government is mostly just a slightly distorted reflection of ourselves. This system is the result of our labors alone (or lack thereof), and maybe what I hope for most is that we wake up and realize we're doing a crap job, and get to work on something better.

Minus the Y

I got an email Wednesday of last week.

Hello! Your decision letter has been mailed within the past few days. If you do not receive it by March 16th, please let Jen Healey (jahealey@bu.edu) know and we’ll make the appropriate arrangements. Please note that we cannot email admission decisions or give our decisions over the phone.

I guess that's kinda funny, from a certain angle. Especially considering that I wasn't expecting to find out until the end of this month. "Now," thought I, "I get to check my mail with ever-increasing anxiety until the 16th."

But the very next day, I missed a phonecall from John Bernstein. He left a charming and unexpectedly lengthy voicemail, expressing his regret for having missed me when I visited his school. And oh, by the way, "we have, of course, accepted you into our program."

All the way up until about last September, I had decided I was going to hold off on grad school until...oh, who knew? But last semester, I became overwhelmed with a desire to go back to Boston, and subsequently became fixated on East Coast screenwriting programs. I found out BU had one of the best. So I flew myself out before Thanksgiving, visited the school, and decided I would certainly at least apply.

BU was the only school to which I applied. It was Boston or bust, as far as I was concerned. And, as time went by, and I worked on my application, I thought that if I was accepted, I might go or I might not.  After all, most of the people I love are right here in Utah. Why leave now? Why not wait? I would decide, I decided, later.

Minutes after listening to that voicemail from Professor Bernstein, the answer quietly came.

Have you ever been to Boston in the Fall? It's lovely.

Best Picture: The Social Network

You probably know by now that I think The Social Network should have won the Academy Award for Best Picture this year. Or maybe you do. You might assume I would say that about Inception, especially if you've read either this or this. But the film I personally loved the best, and the one that I strongly believe ought to have won the Oscar for being the best, don't have to be the same film.

I'll try not to belabor this point, but Network was the RIGHT film, at the RIGHT time, made by the RIGHT people, and in the RIGHT way. It was, I will argue, a vastly more important film, culturally speaking, than was Inception. This isn't a conversation about Inception, though, so that's all I'll say about it.

I should admit right now that I haven't seen The King's Speech. I want to. I plan to. I'm certain (read: no doubt) I'll love it. But the fact is that it doesn't matter how good it was, how perfectly crafted, how brilliantly acted, how expertly written and directed--it can't even approach the broad significance of the film that should have won. It could be reasonably postulated that Facebook has reached the pinnacle of its pertinence. Facebook matters more right now than it ever has, and possibly more than it ever will. That's why The Social Network's timing was perfect.

Here's an interesting fact: Aaron Sorkin (one of the best writers living) didn't have a Facebook account until he started writing a movie about Facebook. What might we then surmise about the Academy? We should at least wonder how many of them have Facebook accounts. The Academy is, demographically speaking, a bit older. A bit less wowed by things like computers and "the Twitter."

Certainly this isn't true for all of them, or maybe even most, but it's true for enough of them to have skewed the collective opinion of Fincher's nearly perfect film negatively--think dismissive, uneasy, uncomprehending. The film that got picked? The safer choice. I'm not cutting it down--like I said before, I'm sure it's wonderful. But it CANNOT be as important, or as perfect (all things considered) as the Facebook movie.

I haven't said much about the film specifically. That's because you can read my review of it here. And I'll be sure to publicly record my thoughts somewhere when I finally get around to seeing the film that did win.

Do you agree with any of what I'm saying? Disagree? How much do you even care? Please share your thoughts in the comments below.

To-do lists

Man I love lists. I think human brains work in lists. Think about it. You're making a list of things you make lists for aren't you?

Last night I made a reasonably long list of things I need to get done within the next day or so. I went over it and figured out which things I wanted to get done TODAY, and which things could wait till later. Cutting edge stuff.

Then I left the list at home.

So here I am, sitting at work, trying to remember some of the things I wrote down, and getting trapped into doing incidental things that feel productive, but probably aren't nearly as urgent as the things I wrote down last night, only a tiny handful of which I can actually remember right now.

In other news, the Oscars were cool. Talk about lists.

First, the list of nominees. I don't think this list is representative of ALL the worthwhile films of the year, but it's a good start. And certainly there are some stinkers on there, but at least we won't see any stupid, boring, hackneyed animated cartoon bears among them. So some things are still right with the world.

And then there's the list of winners. In every invested person's mind, this particular list is actually a composite of several lists: the wins that make us happy; the wins that we can live with; and the wins that are actually losses in the long run. I won't go into great detail, but here are some of my thoughts.

First of all, I haven't seen The King's Speech. I plan to, certainly, since everything I've heard seems to indicate that it deserved its recognition.

According to my Top Ten list on Rhombus, I guess I should be upset that Inception didn't win, but I feel the same way this year that I feel every year. The Academy Award for Best Picture, and the highest (or one of) grossing film shouldn't necessarily be the same film. Sometimes they are, but I tend to think it's fair to spread the love a bit. Inception didn't need a Best Picture win. It was almost everyone's favorite film (or one of) anyway. King's Speech was a smaller film, and had a whole lot more to gain from a win like that.

I haven't seen Inside Job, but I wanted to strangle the life out of Charles Ferguson for being a smug, sniveling, finger-pointing piece of poop. His was the only acceptance "speech" that inspired thoughts of violent regurgitation.

At the risk of giving the impression that I simply didn't watch any films last year, I'll admit that I have not seen, nor do I have any intention of seeing, Black Swan. I respect the amount of attention it's getting, and I am quite comfortable admitting that Aronofsky is a virtuosic filmmaker, but it's not my kind of film, owing to some of the content to which I'd prefer not to be exposed. However, there would have been an outcry if Natalie Portman hadn't won Best Actress, and her acceptance was gracious and sincere. I also whole-heartedly support her succinct description of motherhood as her "most important role."

The most bitter disappointment for me was 127 Hours total lockout. It didn't win anything. Not even Best Editing, which it deserved so far above any of the other nominations it was almost a joke. But oh well.


Overall, I would say last year was more exciting. But I still love the Oscars. I'll continue to watch them every year, given the opportunity. It's like the Superbowl of the arts. It's possibly the most important award show in the world (at least according to the Academy.) And despite what any embittered film-enthusiast/wannabe says, they are still incredibly relevant. Pay attention to those nominations, if nothing else. Those lists aren't shabby.

Quiet Dignity

For the past four years (ish), I've been wanting to start a comedy group. Not an improv group or any kind of performance thing--more of a YouTube comedy thing, though that specificity didn't float to the top until the desire had been incubating in my soul for a few years.

I tried, a couple of times, to pull a few people together. But the effort was always drowned in more important things. And of course laziness gets in the way. And procrastination. Looking back, starting something like that when I first thought of it would have been impossible for me, at my then-levels of experience, work-ethic, and social connections. But still I dreamed.

I was about to continue this story, and then I realized how boring it was getting. So fast forward to a few months ago, when I finally sent the fateful email to a select number of people, and we got to work. I realized that if I didn't put some serious effort into this dream of mine, surrounded as I am by incredibly funny and talented people, and resources everywhere...well, I'd kill myself. Because what a waste. 

The name "Quiet Dignity" was John Forbyn's lasting contribution to the group, before he left due to a crippling shortage of time. I still think the name of the group is perfect. We've lost a couple people, gained a few others. We're trying to film stuff as often as every weekend, but that ends up being every other week if we're lucky. 

Anyway, we went live with the YouTube channel almost two weeks ago. We'll be updating it regularly. Go us. 

Here's the weird part (you didn't know there was a weird part, but now you do)--once you really try to start something like this, you become very familiar with the "industry" you're getting into. One of the MVPs of our group is also involved in another, very similar group, and they're better organized, better connected, and have a little bit more time for it. We're trying not to compete, and we shouldn't REALLY need to, but...c'mon. It's a little weird. It feels a little like a competition. What will differentiate between the two channels? Will either suffer because of the other? 

It won't matter much in the long run. Mostly I think it's awesome to find out I'm surrounded by like-minded people. It's SO awesome that stuff like this (and this, and this) is coming out of Provo, Utah. 

There's a joke in this post, by the way. The joke is that it is quite dull, and it's all about a really bizarre comedy channel on YouTube. 

Ha. 

26

25 was a good year. I worried about it a little at first. No longer, I thought, could I claim to be in my early twenties. What horror. But then an attractive girl said to me, "25 is hot." And then it was OK.

26, though? What's special about turning 26? Nothing. It's just older than 25, and fast approaching late-twenties. And in Provo, unmarried, 26 starts to feel downright deviant. I apologize, Provo, for not being married. Trust that I find myself feeling a modicum of guilt for taking 19 to 22-yr-old girls on dates. I confess that I do my best not to think about how old they were when I was graduating from high school. Or how recently they graduated from high school. Let's just not think about high school.

Anyway. 26.

To soften the blow, I've managed to prolong my birthday celebrations to last a whole week. My birthday was on the 20th, which fell on a Sunday this year. So, the day before, I rounded up a few of my closest friends--people I've known for at least a couple of years--and went out to dinner. Then a few of us headed back to my place to watch Star Trek (a fantastically entertaining movie that holds up surprisingly well under multiple rewatchings).

The next day, my dear mother had organized a little get-together up at her place in Midvale. Again, close friends, some relatives, some of my mom's neighbors and church-folk. Cupcakes. It was pleasant to perfection. Exactly what a Sunday birthday ought to be.

In the meantime, an astounding number of people engaged in birthday well-wishing on my Facebook wall. I even got a few longer form emails. If you were one of the people who contributed to that veritable deluge of digital love, let me say, formally, Thank You. Way to make a guy feel special.

And now it's today. Over a week ago, I created a Facebook event dedicated to the fact that one of my best friends and current roommate, Daniel Ray Atwood, has his birthday on the 26th. Since this is likely the last opportunity we'll have to do so, throwing a combined birthday party seemed like a grand idea. I guess we'll find out soon if we were right. I should say that I expect it to be a fantastic party. Our current apartment has a pretty good track record for this sort of thing.

But regardless, it's become clear over the past week that I've got nothing to worry about. I'm living through the best years of my life up to this point. I'm surrounded by some of the best people I've ever met. I have a wonderful family and more wonderful friends than I know what to do with. My day-to-day endeavors are almost always exciting and satisfying. My future is, if not totally clear, certainly bright.

So when people start showing up to party tonight, I won't be trying to distract myself from the prospect of arriving at a less comfortable age, I'll be celebrating the myriad of phenomenal individuals that make my life as joyful as it is.

407 Days

I see at least two possible perspectives:

1. I have successfully avoided blogging for four hundred and seven days, thereby curing myself of a terrible habit, and now I'm coming back to the activity on my own terms in a healthy, sustained way.
2. Like so many "bloggers," I simply gave up on blogging for over a year. Mostly due to laziness.

Adopting the first one seems dishonest, so why not split the difference? If you ask "how" I'll tell you not to bother me with the details.

Moving on.

Why am I back, then, blogging? Blogging. What a word. Is there a person alive who isn't a little (at least just a little) embarrassed by that term, by it's connotation? There are work-arounds, of course: "I'm updating my website" ... "I'm working with social media" ... "I'm tailoring my online image" ... "I'm trying to stay connected to my friends and family" ...

Well, I'm not doing any of those things. I'm blogging. I'm here to blog. I'm conscious of the fact that much of my motivation for this is a sincere belief that there are people out there who actually want to hear what I have to say more often than they see me in real life. I'm aware of the narcissistic nature of this whole enterprise.

It doesn't bother me. At least not right now. Once in a while I want to ramble with a keyboard, and this is the perfect way to do it. And once in a while people tell me, "Hey, I read your blog," and guess what? That feels awesome.

I'll try to at least be consistent about updating. I promise never more than once a day, because that can be incredibly irritating.

And one last thing: please comment. Anything really. Just type out a thing and hit "comment." It's just so cool to have comments. You know.