Hop's Thoughts

I'm always bothered when someone tells me a person is a good father or mother, especially when they are filled with hatred towards others, based on their appearance. You would think, the birth of a child would scare someone into acceptance. Worried, that something might happen or occur that would cause their child to be different, but it doesn't. The hatred filled inside someone, still remains today as it did before the birth of their child. The disdain for anyone who stands up against oppression brings this person out of their bigoted shell. I wonder if their child were to grow up gay, if they'd cast them in the river, hoping god would sort them out. Or would they feel they'd failed god and slaughter the innocents? It sounds horrid. These words I say are horrible, but they are the things I wonder. How can anyone look at their child, their flesh and blood and feel hate for any other human being, simply based on their appearance. That child, is like someone else's an...

A one handed catch and then another one. Snow Snow Snow. It's all anyone can talk about. Kid lies dead in the middle of the street and we talk more about uncontrollable weather events. Was it always like this or have our minds become mush? I see people posting, those I called friends, with so much hate in their hearts, that it almost makes me wish they could feel that pain, just briefly. The autumn chill turned to springtime today. I walked outside, took a deep breath, but it smells like winter. The party is over and on to the next. The turkey, hen, squab or duck. What will we have? Who knows? Who cares? I wish my brother would walk in that door and say he's done. He's back and I wish I could walk without pain. I wish my mother was here and my grandmother....scratch that, maybe not together, haha! I look forward to shoveling snow. Funny. I've stayed in almost every day, missing the warmth. Missing the beautiful foliage. Missing it, but not. The snow, I will embrace. Eve...

How many observed which one of your friends cheered the executive action taken by Obama this week? The day after, out of my 592 friends on Facebook, there were 27 posts regarding it. Twenty were negative, suggesting that the US was now part of Mexico, that unemployment and crime would go up or that Obama was Muslim (yes, still with this nonsense). Seven posts were in favor. Two were die hard liberals and then there were the five friends who posted...no comments, just a post. All Irish immigrants. All who have moved here and gained citizenship in the past two or three years. What does it say when those born and who spent more than half their lives in another country, show more patriotism and pride than most of us born here? Regardless of your views, you have to start questioning one who claims to be pro-America, who is against the principals the country was founded on. My Irish friends seem to understand. That friend, whose skin is so thin, that any comment regarding their appearance,...

...say they want someone funny, but go after everything but? ...say are there for you, when they never are when you don't need them? ...say they are thick skinned, yet run when called out? ...ask how you are, when all they truly want is to talk about themselves? ...say they like something, just to prove you wrong? ...say something, just to be part of a conversation, but add nothing of substance? ...say they aren't racist, when they have racist beliefs, even if they are few? ...seek so much attention from social media, but when it is private, want none of it? ...interest me so, when I know what they will say before they even say it? ...think it hurts me when they unfriend me? ...talk about the weather, if they are not travelling or bracing for a catastrophe? ...respect some and not others, yet have no reason for either? ...cause me to fantasize about knowing them (some better), while most I wish I could release? ...say they have overcome things they have caused? .....

A bagel with hummus, stuffed clams, a nice chat with an old friend (albeit electronically), a documentary on cave paintings. Sounds boring, but these are the kinds of things that go into a near perfect day lately. I don't go out anymore. Some would laugh at the life I've been living. Out to me, is checking the mail. Sitting in the backyard, eating a sandwich. The outside world hasn't seen me for months. Literally months. The recluse life isn't that bad at all. Despite what people might think, as time has gone on, I've drawn myself away from the social media pit that I'm sadly known for. I feel more connected to strangers who define themselves in 140 characters. They show emotions and disgust and love for me like others, but I don't have to hear about their kid's illness or their day in court. Their traffic woes are for their real life friends, but their tales of true horror, the one on screens, is shared with me and the others who get them. I've neve...

As always, I don't do spoilers, so not really a review, more of a critique. Let me start by saying I normally despise the found footage genre. It is usually a hindrance to a decent idea and limits what we are allowed to see. There are exceptions, but this one stuck to its guns. I had heard nothing about this film other than praise by friends on twitter. I gave it a try and realized instantly, it was going to be about something other than initially proposed. The premise is pretty standard, with the wrinkle being that this film appears to almost not happen. The three main characters are female and in many ways, share nothing in common, which works. Even though two are mother and daughter (Jill Larson & Anne Ramsey), you can see that there is something odd between the two. We find out later, it's a little cliche in some sense, but it doesn't bog down the plot. The interviewer/researcher Mia (Michelle Ang) is also very cute, but no nonsense. While she's not on camera ...

I miss laughter. I mean the silly laughter over nothing. The laughter over a connection between two good friends. The stuff that starts over one thing and carries on to all those other things throughout the night. The kind you wipe your eyes, but it doesn't help. I miss that laughter I got from seeing the body of another jerk with the uncontrollable flailing of someone who has lost it completely. That contagious laughter. I can't get that through the computer screen. Then again, only one or two even try anymore. I can't get that through the phone or on TV or even from my memories. Not the laughter I'm talking about. I guess for now, I'll settle for the chuckles, the smirks and the giggles. It beats the alternative.