Rocks, Blood and Bears. Or why I have no reason to complain about running on flat ground ever again.

Another year of road racing begins again and as I reach a milestone of sorts come September (my tenth year of doing 5k's) there have been many highlights over those years. But none like what happened to me on one cold saturday morning in March. Usually I like to kick off my racing year with a 5k run in Johnson Park in Piscataway with the H.I.P.H.O.P run that is usually the first or second weekend in April. (I don't remember what the letter stand for but I know it deals with a hospital.) Well this year a race appeared on my radar at the end of March that was titled the Rock Run. The location of the race was at Chimney Rock state park which is not to far from me so I figured, well this should be interesting. From the descriptions on various websites all that was told was a five mile run in the park with a time for refreshments at the Chimney Rock Inn. Looking back now this may all have been a finely woven trap to get people to run the race.

The morning of the race was a nice twenty-eight degree day in the sun. In the shade, the temp's must have been below twenty-five and the slight breeze did not help anything. With any new run I like to look at the surrounding area and see the landscape and try to figure out where I may be going. The registration sight was a pristine park, with baseball fields and benches. All in all a serene place to run. But that is where the race started, and that pristine tranquil sight gave way to the Chimney Rock Park. Before the start of the race the organizers guided us with some instructions on various parts of the course. The first part consisted of running down a path to a road and then making a right into the park. So far so good. Then came the instructions to slow down and cross a shallow stream, but no worries carefully placed cinder blocks are in the water so that your feet do not have to get wet. At that moment my internal alarm meter started to rise. The next set of instructions included making your way through the path that traveled alongside the river to the damn area of the park. Sounds easy but the course guides gave the runners a bit of advice that was highly needed. When running along the river part use your left hand to hold onto trees and your right hand for balance, also be-careful of the rocks, roots and stumps that can at any moment give way and send you either down onto rocks or into the river. The alarm meter rose higher. The final instruction was follow the signs and have fun. With a deep breath and a loud shout of go I was off.

The first part of the race before the stream was easy, then came the stream and then the path along the river and I knew that this run was going to either wound me or kill me. I made it through the river part without falling in or breaking my legs on the rock, in fact I climbed the steep hill to the observation deck on top of the hill and wound my way through the muddy paths at the top of the hill. But as the race continued the fragile signs that pointed the way started to fall off their trees and leave many of the racers confused and unsure of where to go. Every step of the course consisted of either rock, mud or leaves. At time the course would have lyrics written on paper and posted to trees from songs that dealt with rocks. I even passed a random stegosaurus hanging out in some bushes. With these peculiarities I could not help but think that this was no race that I was trying to run but possibly a circle of hell for runners. After the first loop of the race I was sent back into rocky shore line of the river. I couldn't believe that I had to run this piece of land again, and if I didn't fall or trip the first time, certainly the second time I was a dead man. But I made it through the river part and scampered my way back of the steep hill. At the top of the hill I was directed into the path for those on their second time through and it was there that the race changed for me.

After climbing my way up a short hill I took a step on what I thought was just some leaves on the ground. But underneath those leaves was a rock so unforgiving that my body couldn't help but fall over in a heap onto other rocks in a devious form of affection. I went down and I went down hard. My hip was a recipient of a nice pointy rock, my knees each getting a rock to slam into. With my body still trying to run a race I sprang up from my fall and took a step that sent a message from my hips to my head that basically said STOP!!! I tried to keep going but my legs were having nothing of it. I looked at my stop watch and it said I had been going for over thirty minutes. Usually for 5 miles on flat ground I do under 36 minutes. After my gracious fall I decided it was time to go back and call it a day. I limped through the woods, stopping occasionally to look down and see blood pouring down from my knees and to my shoes. I found the perfect walking stick and hiked my way out, each step shooting pain throughout my body. One of the race organizers saw me and thought I was some sort of mystic coming out of the woods or even a shaman. No just the guy who fell during the race. I made it to the finish line, not having done the whole race and trying to figure out if I had broken anything.

After trying to get warm and assuring those who put the race together that I was ok, I was told that even though I didn't finish the race I still won an award. Usually there are age group awards during road races so maybe I got something there but I really didn't finish the race. I went to the Chimney Rock Inn and during the award ceremony there were awards given out for those who finished first,second and so on but then there were awards for random course trivia. Like identifying what dinosaur was hanging out on the course. My award on the other hand dealt with the injury's that I sustained while running the race. That award was Most Likely To Be Eaten By A Bear. Yes, I was most likely to be eaten by a bear. In all of the races that I have run I've received awards for finishing in first place in my age group and being first overall in a race but this award shows that no matter how you run a race. Run so that you win the prize, no matter what it is. Often I think that if I don't win first place then I've waisted my time in running and that usually leads to not wanting to run. But that's not what the race is about, in the race of life were not meant to just start the race but were also meant to finish the race. There is an award waiting for all of us at the end what that award is depends on the race that you run.

Landmark Books

If you're looking for a list or my thoughts on books that have changed the world then this is not the place to be doing that looking. The Landmark Books which I am blogging about is a series of children's books which were released in nineteen fifties and sixties.

My introduction to these series of books came from my elementary school days at Greenbrook Christian Academy. Whenever there was a free reading assignment I was drawn into the Landmark books because they always dealt with something historical. Each book that I was able to read had exciting stories that brought out significant historical events and people. Within a few well crafted pages, new worlds were explored and a greater knowledge of history gained without even trying. As I have grown older I continue to find that these children's books offer a historical perspective that somehow breaks through the more adult oriented historical writings. Certainly I'm not going to quote a children's book if I need to do some research on a specific subject but I'm not inclined to read a Landmark book to gain a synopsis of an historical event or figure.

When Greenbrook Christian Academy closed I took as many of the Landmark books that meant so much to me for my own. Whenever I visit a used bookstore I look for the old Landmark books, especially ones with the dust jacket. When I discover one of the books it's as if a small treasure has been found. When the internet became a place to find things that we had thought to be long gone, my search for Landmark books became something different.

On the internet, what I thought was a treasure to be searched and hunted for became nothing more than someone's excess. My gold may have been nothing more than fools gold. It became very easy to just pay someone ninety-nine cents for five Landmark books than to try and find the same books in some used book store. Hey, it's just convenience right? You find what you're looking for and you don't even have to go someplace. But for some reason that just didn't seem right.

I'm not against buying things off of the internet but the value of the experience of finding a Landmark book in a used bookstore was something that I did not want to trade for convenience. I am beginning to find that same line of thinking in many other areas of my life. I know that Google earth can take me anywhere in the world but that doesn't mean that I have had the experience of going to places in the world.

As we move into another decade there is going to be allot of new and exciting things that will take experiences that we once had and replace with something new. Just think about all of the things the last ten years has brought us. I hope that in these next ten years we don't trade all of our experiences for something that is not an experience at all.

For Robin

I firmly believe that when you study cinema you don't just watch movies. Sure there is allot to learn from watching movies, and sure you can make really great arguments and theorys from just watching movies but there is whole lot more to cinema than that. I'm sure that when the Lumière brothers first showed their film of a train arriving into La Coitat Station there were people who did not like the film. Those people are no different from us today, we are critics of all that we see. Some of us are good critics and some of us are bad critics and some people are exceptional critics. So I ask you, do you know who this man is?




Robin Wood is film critic, and more than just that. He was also a professor, theorist, writer, and publisher. Wood created CineAction, a critical film journal and also wrote books on film directors like Alfred Hitchcock, Howard Hawks, and Ingmar Bergman. Of his work, the piece of writing that opened a world of ideas when viewing films was his Introduction to the American Horror film. Especially his ideas on the return of the repressed within the horror genre. His work is a cornerstone in understanding and thinking critically about horror films. I know first hand that horror films get a bad rap and that many people believe that there is nothing endearing or valuable about them. When I first began my journey in cinema studies the genre that interested me the most seemed to be the one that was one of the most criticized. When I found out that there were theorists and critics who not only examined the blockbuster horror films, but also examined the lesser quality and dark horror films, I felt that there was a real chance that the horror genre could find true respect.

Robin Wood was one of those critics and theorists that saw the value in the horror films of his day and even the value in many newer horror films that came out. He did not just focus on horror films but also examined and discussed films from all genres and aspects. His book Hollywood from Vietnam and Reagan...and Beyond captures a full breath of Robin Wood's style and eye of criticism.

Robin Wood passed away on December 18th, 2009. He was 78 years old. His legacy lives on in the those that believe in CineAction, and the students that he has taught and have continued in a career in film criticism. What is a shame about his loss is that film studies has lost a true master and a genuinely good critic. It is with hope that there are those who will be inspired by Wood's writings and will follow in his footsteps.

The end of the world through the lens of George Romero

Allot of times I think that my life has been lived in the "in between" of everything. What exactly that means is a bit of theology, epistemology, and cultural phenomena. Ok, well maybe it could be summed up as leaving the party early and then having to hear about the fun bus arriving minutes after I've left. As an undergraduate/graduate student I feel ever more in the "in between" with this semesters work load.

Much of being a graduate student is being told how to focus on what you want to study with extreme zeal over in the months to follow. What happens is you are told constantly to research, research, research. Once you've done that write something and be told that you need to do more research. After doing this in repetition for three months words begin to pile up like traffic on the Jersey turnpike and there comes a point where you just don't know what to do next. Call it writers block or academic anemia, what happens next is the equivalent of laying on the horn in deadlock traffic.

Part of my deadlock this semester led me to go back to what I know best. And that is the horror film. The title to this post reflects a paper that I wrote on George Romero and his three zombie films of the past century. I don't want to write so much on that but rather blog in an epilogues way.

When I think about the three films that I wrote about (Night, Dawn and Day of the Dead) I tried to tie them into this idea of post-modernism and patriarchal society. Besides that academic stuff I saw in the films the effort of a filmmaker who really wanted to say something using a genre that is looked down upon. I know very well that horror films can be very polarizing and down right disturbing. They touch upon a part of us that really challenges our fears. And allot of us don't want to address fear. I can't pinpoint exactly the fears that Romero addresses in his films but there are some indicators that come up.

The premise of the zombie films are basically that zombies have run through the american society. The films focus on the failings of the military, government, middle-class life, upper-class life, consumer society, familial relations, and much more. The films express the end of the world, maybe not the apocalypse that ends earth, but life as we are familiar with. This is what makes us uncomfortable. When we look at the world we live in it is possible that we expect that tomorrow things will be the same as they were today. Things will be the same, next year, next five years, next ten years. What if it's not?

The films show that most likely we'll continue to live as though change was never happening. Call it denial, or just the plain failure of our set up of cultural capital. I know it is hard to let go of the things that we are used to. Why? Because we are comfortable with how things are. What Romero's zombie films shows is that the reluctance to change leads to a consuming death. (More often than not, that is shown physically). Rather than wait for this world to end, I'll leave it a stranger, and avoid the zombies on the turnpike.

Some Outsiders

It seemed wrong to dream
Cause time was left outside
A group of people it had seemed
Their emotions they could not hide


August is over and what that usually means is summer is over. With the end of summer comes another school year. For many those days are long gone. But with media attention focusing on "Back to School Fever" there is a part of my mind that reflects back.

1999 was ten years ago. I was a Junior for the first half of the year then with September of 99 I became a senior in High School and the end of a century seemed like nothing compared to where I was in life. As the first bells of September rang, the hallways crowded with jittery teenagers placating false tiredness, everything that was so despised became home again. For myself I was right at home but I was as anonymous as ever. Like any others high schooler you try to put yourself into groups and activities to try and gain some traction in life. I had my sports but I also had my club. That club was creative writing.

I know how I felt the first time I joined a creative writing meeting. My silent arrogance emanated from my corner of the room as I watched and heard the writings my peers. There were people from all swaths of clicks in this club and for me, maybe I was the jock of the group. Though I never felt like a jock. As I continued meeting every Monday at 5 with this group what arrogance I contained turned in on itself and I saw myself as a fellow misfit orating verse in search of empathetic ears.

Individuals, that's what we were
Questions were raised of who to die
We weren't sure
But we had our reasons why

Some weeks were highly charged. Our pens and verse as sharp as any sword, cutting at the deepest of emotions but connecting our heart strings to beat as one. Then there were weeks where drama accrued and took its' toll, dividing those within, frustrating and revealing our minds to be nothing but elementary drivel. Our writings might has well have been manure for the fields. But we persevered.

The words seem to still resonate
And opinions we each had
Could fill the slate
Of what was good and bad

There was power in those words
What was said
It was not absurd
What happened will stay in our heads

At the end of each creative writing year, those with the time and patience would come together create the magazine that would encompass that which excelled. In that moment of time one could read through a wide spread of emotions. For a group of misfits there certainly was no shame in expressing authenticity. 1999 is gone, creative writing is now in someone else's hand. What it has become, who knows? For a moment we came together and unleashed ourselves and discovered that the differences of appearances are nothing more than a shadow. There are many stories about the group that could be written but I'm sure you already know what they are. For maybe your life has traveled those same hallways, and occupied those same desks.

I never knew the power of friends
Friends I never had
But it's times like these that make me glad
Times like these makes it hard to speak
But I know it will all change
Next week

Verses from An Interpretation by Evan Walter 1999

For All Mankind

As summer comes upon its' end I feel as if I have let slip away many opportunities to share some thoughts on this blog. But this summer has brought forward new adventures and challenges that have replaced allot of things that I once took part in on a daily basis. Now I realize that in a few short days I will be stepping back into the world of education and will force myself to transition my current priorities to ones that were once familiar. Hopefully there will be little stress and a smooth exchange as being a student becomes a major priority again.

One thing that The Band of Outsiders has rarely done is venture into cinema. This is odd because that is what I study in school and am constantly learning about in my free time. What is also odd is that The Band of Outsiders was originally intended to be a critical cinematic exploration into all facets of cinema. One idea was that The Band of Outsiders was going to be an underground magazine with contributions coming from those that seriously wanted to talk about cinema and its importance. But that never got off the ground so I ventured to Myspace with the idea and started to write about films on my Myspace page. That has dissipated and most writings on film are left for academia and The Band of Outsiders has metamorphosed into something else. But I say why not write about film and profess a love of mine?




For All Mankind (Al Reinart, 1989) is a documentary film that explores one of mankind's greatest adventures, going to the moon. Reinart gives us the story of adventure through the voices of those who embarked on that adventure, the astronauts. Reinart compiles footage that was shot by NASA into a succinct personal experience. Reinart's film also allows us to contemplate on our world today by examining the experiences of the past.

The first footage of the film is of President Kennedy famously declaring that America will go to the moon and after that we are put into the world of the astronauts. As the astronauts are showed preparing for launch, traveling in earths orbit, heading to the moon, and then being on the moons surface the personal retelling of emotions and feelings compliment the restored footage of a by gone era.

Being forty years removed from when Neil Armstrong first stepped onto the surface of the moon there is a sense of amazement in the accomplishment of landing on the moon. Armstong's famous first steps and words may be cliché now but when taken in from the point of view from mission control and the faces of those watching there is a renewed wonder in seeing the first man on the moon. As subsequent visitors of the moon discuss their adventures it becomes apparent that what was accomplished in a short period of time was absolutely immense. What also becomes apparent is the massiveness of space and earth within in it.

Many of the astronauts, as they express their views of orbiting earth, find a sense of home and they express the importance of all parts of the world. In one shot their is footage of small orange dots speckled across the night landscape of Africa. Those orange dots are fires where people have created a living area. The enormity of Africa in daylight is desert and all of the reasonable learnings of inhospitably of such a climate seem lacking when viewed during the night. It's as if Reinart allows us to understand that home is home regardless of our preconceptions. There is that same feeling as the astronauts discuss leaving the moon. For some the barren rocky world had become a home, and as the lunar capsule departs the surface, home once again disappears for the astronauts.

For all Mankind does not only show us the adventure but explains the purpose of the adventures to the moon. It may seem that our reasons for space exploration and exploration of the moon were political in nature but for those scientists and astronauts the journey became something more. The harsh landscape of the moon became a playground for science but also a place to prove the determination and resolve of a nation. The moon was not only for us but for all of mankind. How can this be?

Upon its initial release in 1989, Reinarts film can be seen as nostalgic and a film that offers a glimpse into history that was rarely seen. In 2009 as earth faces many tough questions on climate change and global warming, For All Mankind seems to be a form of positive evidence that in a short period of time, with determination and resolve, things can change and be accomplished. For All Mankind also seems to become a statement for mankind to explore the importance of our world. It's easy to say that we can put a man on the moon but we can't...(fill in the blank) as a funny type of argument. But such arguments may prove our shortcomings when dealing with serious issues. For All Mankind shows the beauty of not only the moon but also of our planet and what can be accomplished. As we look up into our respective night sky's let us imagine with wonder what it must be like to be in such a place but also how important the place that we are standing on is.

The Lost Game

It was a hot summer day when my then girlfriend and myself got into my car and drove off to Best Buy. The purchase that was going to be made was a brand new Xbox system. By the time I was buying this square black box the system had already been out for some time but was still new enough that there was a hype and buzz about it. A few hours after later my girl and I were in front of the television playing Halo and mindlessly letting the hours slip away just like many other twenty somethings at the time.

This was the first system that I had actually gotten into since my brother had recieved as a present the super Nintendo some years back. Video games had significantly changed from the Super Nintendo to the Xbox but I changed also. Rather than ride the wave of the future, video games disappeared from my hobbies for many years until I was turned onto the Xbox by a friend and my cousin. But there was another game "system" that did preoccupy my time, sometimes more often than not. That "system" was the war-game.

The war-game is not like a board-game, but it can have a board. The war-game surpasses leisure and becomes a boot camp for the brain and an analytical labyrinth. The war-game finely sharpens the competitive edges of the soul and enhances the depths of history. But the war-game is also an outsider and those who dare enter its' realm have to face the repercussions of being a part of it.

The relationship with the war-game has always been a tricky one. There is a sense that playing any type of war-game is hanging onto the past and living in a hyperbole of history. In fact many people that I know who are younger than me dare even touch the box of a war-game. And for those curious enough to browse through a games contents, the realization that you actually have to know rules to play the game properly is a complete turn off. It is so easy to turn on a video game and just start playing. Convenience has replaced the war-game, and the luster of technology replacing the imagination of cardboard.

But now there is the Xbox 360 and the ability to game with people via the internet. For those who have done this I'm sure you know of the gamut of gamers who exist. Those who's competitive edge is win at all cost and there are those who's failure to accept loss brews hatred and spite. The Xbox 360 is fun to play but there are those times, and they are very few, when friends and family get together and sit down to play a war-game. The hours pass unknowingly but camaraderie is built, character formed and an appreciation for each other is gained. When failure comes, sure we can say the dice beat us and when the unexpected is achieved we try to believe that was what was planned all along. Long live the war-game.