It's no secret that sci-fi is one of my favorite genres. Though I was raised consuming volumes of fantasy novels, sci-fi is cut from the same cloth. A good science fiction story draws upon enough believable material to make us engage with the story, with some good imagination and speculation to draw us into deeper, unknown, and perhaps bolder territory. I just saw a great example of how science fiction engages our deepest, very human questions, asking us to think and feel familiar things while venturing into new narrative territory. But before I talk about the film I'll give you a little background on why (and how) I came to love the genre. The journey began with some classic novels new and old (although science fiction is a relatively new genre, coming to prominence only in the middle of the 20th century). Some highlights include Frank Herbert's 1965 masterpiece Dune , where I followed the Messiah-like Paul Atreides on his quest to seek justice for the injuries again...
Hey, who put me on the cover of this movie? It is very difficult for me to summarize a topic as broad as the consciousness of a people. Although I cannot properly consider myself "Mexican," there are many Latino/Hispanic people who share both my ancestry and cultural dilemma. Consider California: we have an overwhelming population of Mexican Americans here, with the most vibrant communities of recent and established generations of immigrants proud to call this country their home, yet firmly rooted in their own culture and traditions. Today I need to remember that I should be sensitive even with labels; the majority of my friends greatly prefer the term Latino even when my family has considered itself Hispanic for so long. I could write for a long while on the distinguishing characteristics of New Mexican identity, even though I have never lived in New Mexico itself. Rather I find it helpful to take the macro scale: identifying those trends in Latin American culture that ...
I Am Tired (A Lament) I am tired; my eyes trace another stone Hurled from hateful hands, flying unhindered To crush my bones to powder, my blood to rivers Again the death I fear reminds me there Is a fool's hope for escape. I am tired; my nose fills with smoke As fingers fling matches burning Pillars of flame sear my hair to cinder And their snarling laughter purges This heretical body of its unholy love. I am tired; I stare into the rifle's barrel yet again, My eyes obscured from my neighbor's face Hidden behind a black helmet and plexiglass shield, The land their people stole filled with black smoke Trailer traffic, and a long, steel dragon swallowing Oceans of black poison sucked dry from Earth. I am tired; my shoulders ache under the weight Of this beam thrust upon my shoulders, the Jeers of the crowd now hurled at me, though I Was minutes ago just another pilgrim here for worship, Now staring into the face of a bleeding man who can Barely ...
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