If you know anything about me, you’ll know that I am quite intrigued with the idea of the rock star. My captivation is not solely fixated on the music, however, but on the lifestyle personified by the musicians. Their carefree rebelliousness fascinates me to no ends. I am a mesmerized child merely watching the show that is the rock star life.

However, I have noticed a trend within rock stardom that now borders on cliché. After watching many hours of VH1’s Behind the Music, and by reading countless musical autobiographies, I have come to the conclusion that a rock star’s life follows a traditional path. Let me illustrate my 6 points.

A Dream- Every child has a dream of becoming a rock n’ roll star. This is why I air-band.

A Struggle to Succeed- I will do anything I can to get to where I want to be. I will play your high school prom because one of the student’s third cousins cleans toilets at EMI. Please take my Demo tape. Yours truly, Garth.

Success- Got signed and now I’m opening for Soul Decision…Jealous?

Excess- Let the party begin. Drugs, alcohol, money, women, STD’S.

The Fall- I knew hanging out with Scott Weiland was a bad idea.

Redemption or Death- I’m out of rehab, and have returned with a successful album thus allowing me to come full circle. Or I have died from my addiction.

These 6 steps mark the trajectory of a rock star’s career. Well, the one’s we seem to care about. Here are just some of the musicians that have ended the 6 step program with redemption: (In no particular order)

Anthony Kiedis, Scott Weiland, Slash, Courtney Love, Keith Richards, Eminem, Johnny Cash, James Hetfield, Dave Mustaine, Eric Clapton, and Motley Crue.

Here are just some of the musicians that ended the 6 step program with death: (In no particular order) Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Layne Staley, Shannon Hoon, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Keith Moon, John Bonham, Rick James.

It’s as simple as this.

My job as a writer allows me many privileges (The most prevalent being that I set my own hours of work). If I want to write at 3am, then so be it. The problem I seem to run into is that I have become obsessed with laziness. Instead of brainstorming about potential story ideas, I plop myself down on the couch and watch hours of mindless television “entertainment”. And when I’m not doing that, I hazily surf the net-although I have the laptop in the living room now so I can perform both tasks simultaneously. I tend to complain that I never have enough time to write, but yet, in reality, I have plentiful amounts. Setting your own schedule may seem like a godsend, but it can be detrimental to one’s overall work ethic. I undermine my freedom with complete and utter defiance.

I believe the greatest time waster of all is Facebook. Oh sure, it’s great to catch up with old friends and such, but it’s a great detractor of my time. It’s funny, I will go on it and check out anything that has potentially changed (someone has written on my wall, I’ve been tagged in a photo, etc.). After the ten seconds it takes to perform this task, I find myself checking out the newsfeed. Since I haven’t been on it in about 8 or 9 hours (because of sleep), I feel lost not knowing the needless information of others. So I scroll down and spy on the useless drivel that has no bearing on my life. After completing this task, I become bored with Zuckerberg’s wonder site, and leave the page.

You know, the internet is such a vast portal of information, but yet I am constantly at a loss as to what to look up. I have about ten sites I search on a daily basis, but upon completion of that, I tend to sit there and wonder, ‘What can I search for now’? So, in an act of desperation, I head back to Facebook because something has bound to have changed in the last ten minutes. Someone has broken up, someone has changed their status, and someone probably needs my help with cows in Farmville. My constant return to Facebook is unwarranted, but yet I do it numerous times a day.

What does this say about me? Am I obsessed? Am I living precariously through the lives of others? Am I just a nosy person by nature (or has social media transformed me)? Is my life so mundane that I feel the need to spy on people on my friends list? This activity does not benefit me in any way, but yet it has become an unfortunate ritual that has affected my work ethic.

I don’t blame the internet, but rather I blame myself for my shortcomings as a functioning human being who attempts to coexist with the “importance” of social media on a day-to-day basis.

Social media has become ubiquitous in our society, which makes it almost impossible to ignore. However, in my opinion, the verdict is still out as to whether or not this isolating technology (talk about irony) is a true positive for a society currently in a transitional stage of identity. Though there may be many benefits surrounding it, it does have the potential to become a dangerous tool.

I will more than likely never sever my relationship with Facebook, but I understand that this could lead to an addiction of massive proportions if I don’t nip it in the butt immediately. And what happens if I do delete my Facebook account? Well, I can always switch sites and check out my Twitter and MySpace.

What if my life were to exist within a film narrative? I’m not talking about any sort of avant-garde film, but rather a classic Hollywood structured screenplay. Wouldn’t life be so much simpler?

I mean, for the first half hour, everything will be sweet and dandy. I will have a loving family, a great job, a sweet car, etc. In other words, life will be perfect.

But hold on, after all that, trouble will begin to brew. A great conflict will arise, and everything I once took for granted will now be placed in jeopardy. I will be fired or suspended from my job, my car will be blown up, and my wife will disappear. I will not know where to begin, but then I’ll receive some sort of cryptic message (from a worthy adversary who I have wronged in the past-that’s a good thing because I was a cop)) filling me in on what I need to do to regain my once perfect world. The steps I will need to take will now challenge me mentally and physically. I will now be racing against time, except that I will continue to run into unforeseen problems. As a result, I will (temporarily) be unable to overcome the obstacles that threaten my once untouchable utopia.

And then eventually, after about an hour and a half, I will be faced with the ultimate decision that will all but decide my fate. I will either quit because I don’t have what it takes, or I will persevere and prove to myself and everyone else that I am the hero you all believe in. That I am capable of being all that I can be. I decide to go the hero route.

Finally, we arrive at the final half hour. This is where I confront my arch enemy who is attempting to rob me of my joy and happiness. His goons are no match for me. I get rid of them with relative ease. It is now me and some non-North American villain. But wait, my wife miraculously reappears. She is being held hostage by this international scum. There is a bomb strapped to her. I grimace and proceed to make dire threats to him. He does the same to me. We battle, but it cannot be a long battle because the bomb strapped to my wife will explode in 33 seconds. I dispose of him, race to my wife, and deactivate the bomb (that not only would have destroyed her, but as well the entire city).

My wife and I walk out of the building holding hands. The sun is setting. I turn to her, she turns to me. We romantically embrace with the sunlight romanticizing the moment. I have saved the day. I have reclaimed my dignity. I am a man. I have learned much of myself, and will move forward with this new found knowledge.

My life has taken 2 hours to complete. Life is once again good. There will no longer be any conflict. (Unless my story makes over $100 million, and then a sequel is a must).And this my friends is the typical outline for a Hollywood Action feature film.

The Christmas season is supposed to be a time of joy, excitement and anticipation, but instead, it is a time of fear, resentment, greed, envy and bitterness; well, from what I have seen anyways.

Every time I venture outside of my home, I encounter anger, hostility and anxiety that truly perplexes me. I have never had anyone actually angry at me, but when I look around at the faces, there is no happiness, just pure misery.

I thought Christmas was about happiness and well being? To be honest, I don’t remember a time when I have actually seen a smile plastered on someone’s face as they zoom around the mall in a consumerized daze. Though, it is clear what is going on. People are forced to travel and spend money that they do not necessarily have on presents for people that they do not necessarily admire. It’s a sad state of affairs in my opinion. Giving should be about caring and understanding; it should not be out of spite or necessity.

It is clear that people don’t want to be there, but yet they cannot pull themselves away from the annual ritual that is gift purchasing. Dollar after dollar of hard earned spending cash is gone before one can say ‘cash or cheque’.It is tragic to be honest. People are so enamoured by consumerism that they tend to forget about the beauty and majestic quality of what Christmas is truly about. We are not merely consumers, but rather we are beings obsessed with purchasing to a point that we lose total control, and desperately anticipate the day when the holidays will be over.

In December, the malls are never vacant, but yet when January rolls around, there is barely a car in sight in the mall parking lot. Why is that? It’s because people have spent money on items that they cannot afford. Now, they must sit back and ponder how they are going to pay off their rent or mortgage. They are so far in a hole that they fear that it may take months before they can get out of it. Typically, society usually manages to crawl their way out of debt by September, but by then it doesn’t matter; it is now time to think about the upcoming Christmas season and what they need to purchase.

Especially now that there is a credit crunch around the world, people have become even tighter with their wallets then normal (and the pain on their faces is more distinguishable). So, how do we solve this problem?

How would I know? I’m just the writer.

For those of you who don’t know me too well, understand that I am an avid follower of film. I truly admire the aesthetic that it is. It is my passion and my life. It brazenly entered my life as a child, and overwhelmed my sensibilities to such a degree that it eventually became my major in University. But, for all that film has done to enrich my life; it still embodies one major flaw. It is a visual medium.

There is no guessing, no assuming, no dreaming, and of course, there is no imagination. We are visually stimulated by images that need no explanation. In other words, we are shown all we need to be shown. The expressiveness of the filmic language is presented to us in all of its visual glory. So, for as much as film has redirected my ambitions in life, it still cannot match the intensity, nor the raw immaculate power of the written word.

When there is merely a blank canvas; there is then the possibility for imagination.When I read, I visualize and create characters, environments, situations, geographical locations and so on. The written word helps to describe, but it does not define what it is I am supposed to imagine. That is left to me, the reader. When I read, my imagination flourishes in so many alternate directions, and this happens because my brain creates and manipulates exuberant and vibrant images.

As I read, I design.

When a film is based on a book I have read, I am rarely enthralled with the final product (both visually and stylistically). You see, film rarely captures the vivid images I once created in my head. Film interprets differently then the individual. They understand it one way; I see it another.

Thus, I am forced to shed the confetti of my individualistic thoughts in favor of the constructed visuals embodied within the filmic medium.This is the key reason as to why I cannot read the book after watching the film. To me, there is no sensible reason to do so. The creative process of imagining has been stripped away. The book becomes utterly useless in my opinion.

So, I may love film to death, but it will never, ever, remove the potency of the written word.