Halloween is approaching fast and we all want to snuggle in bed and watch scary movies while eating candy we bought ourselves. Here’s my top five horror/thriller Netflix movies based on plot, originality, suspense, and creepiness. Unfortunately, most Netflix horror movies aren’t very good, so I didn’t have much to pick from.
You need to watch Creep 1 before watching this movie. Creep 1 is good, but the sequel is much better.
Synopsis: A video artist who craves shocking stories realises she has made a mistake when she meets a serial killer in a cabin, after he posts an ad on Craigslist.
First 10 min: The serial killer is up to his same old antics, but this time he is having a midlife crisis. Then walks in an attractive female who responds to his Craigslist ad and agrees to be his videographer for the day, but…
She is so beautiful who see beautiful in everything. She always loved the things that the rest of the world forgot, snails and slugs and the broken flowers. She was just herself and the world loved her for this. All her perfect imperfectness made her the most beautiful creature. And the stars blinked as they watch her carefully, jealous of her shine. She consumed me with inspiration, but she was no muse. She was the brush stroke of my every word,
“It’s that heart of gold, & stardust soul that make you beautiful“
I heard some people talking this past weekend about never swimming in the ocean because that’s where sharks live. It was a funny conversation, but the lady talking was being sincere in expressing her fear. She explained that if she never gets in the water she will never have to worry about getting eaten by a shark. And I cannot argue with her logic.
But what about the coolness of the water on the skin? What about experiencing the awesomeness of an afternoon swim? Maybe a little belly surfing? If her mind doesn’t change she will never be eaten by a shark, but she will also never experience the greatness of the water.
Listening to her talk got me to thinking about fear in general. I wonder how many people think like this on other topics. If I never try X, then I’ll never have to worry about Y. I would have to guess that the number is quite high.
Fear rules many people’s lives. They operate out of fear. It dictates the terms of agreement in their life. Fear decides what will happen and what will not happen. Fear dictates a few things to me. I will never skydive because if I don’t I will never hit the ground and die. I will never bungee jump. I’m sure there are more things that I will say “never” to doing. My list expressly relates to extreme sports.
Fear can keep people from fixing broken relationships. Fear can keep someone from experiencing the freedom of being debt free. Fear can get in the way of someone earning their education certificate. In the end fear does one thing…it gets in the way of everything.
If fear is getting in your way I offer one simple suggestion. Think about the worst possible scenario and then ask yourself, “What’s the absolute worst thing that could happen?” You could get rejected. So what? You could get your feelings hurt. So what?
But what if the worst case doesn’t happen? Fear will rob you if you let it, so don’t let it.
NO! I was literally sucking in the rhetoric that prompted this blog.
Once again, adoptee’s voices are being crushed left and right. Everywhere I go, I see adoption being thrown in my face, appreciation being required or else, and the “good adoptee” narrative being used against me as if I’m some kind of criminal for being opposed to this narrative.
Are there “positive” adoptions? Yes. I do believe there are. But this in no way means that loss, trauma, and sadness is not involved.
For Dave Thomas, his adoption must have been “amazing”. I mean, he created a family restaurant that is filled with racism, injustice, food that can be dangerous, and inconsistency with its message. I don’t think he intended to do this. However, when money is involved, people do interesting things. Intent vs Impact…right?
But why must he make other adoptees feel like Wendy’s would NOT have…
Everything has to do with adoption and at the same time, nothing has to do with adoption. It’s one of those weird concepts where you know that part of who you are is made up of what the adopters tried to make you, and the other part is your nature.
I believe it is everything and nothing.
I’ve met many adoptees but most of them have been online. And as much as I would like to blame some of their behavior on adoption, I have to be real with myself and with them that it may not actually be just adoption that made you into an asshole.
I was working closely with one adoptee who was great in the beginning. So nice, so sweet, so funny. And then something just changed. I started backing away a bit because I felt something was not quite right. Some things this person said…
Often when we are fearful, we have a tendency to cower and hide. Fear causes our nervous system to be flooded with endorphins. These emotions transmitted throughout our body cause us to sweat, our heart race (beating so hard like it is about to break free from our chest), the hair on our necks rise and our legs shake. Every member of our body seemingly shuts down with the exception of our emotions. This causes us to generalize fear as that which cripples hampers and prevents us from walking in purpose and possess that which belongs to us. However, what if we could look at fear from another perspective. What if fear could be viewed as that which propels, pushes, and catapults us into the place that we need to be? What if fear is the ultimate driving force? What if fear is the really the gateway to freedom?
Death isn’t something I like to think about, much less write about. In fact, it’s my biggest fear (outside of the death of one of my children). Oh, I know all the pat arguments and rationalizations that it’s not so bad–death is a part of life, death is nothing to be afraid of, if you’re a good Christian you will go to Heaven and there will be no fear, nothing at all will happen so there will be no fear, even the idea that death is beautiful.
I woke this morning, as I often do, thinking about how much I fear my own death. I think this is a little obsessive-compulsiveness on my part, and probably something I should talk about more in therapy. The mental health field has a name for the irrational or excessive fear of death: thanatophobia. So far I’ve only talked to God…
There is a key element to success that not all people understand: struggle. Struggle is a key element of getting ahead. It exists in quitting smoking. It exists in losing weight. It exists in getting a promotion. It exists in building a business. It exists in making more money. Any time you look to advance yourself you can bet that struggle will play into the equation at some point.
For Mark Cuban it was living in an apartment with 6 other guys eating ketchup and mustard sandwiches. For some it might be living without pay television, internet and not eating out for a year or more. For others it might involve walking to work instead of driving.
I have joked in the past that anyone can work a home budget of $5000 per month, but it takes talent to live for a couple of weeks on $20. You know you’ve lived the struggle when you can live in a major metro area and have the skills to stretch that 20 bucks to its max!
Most people are afraid of the struggle and they don’t know how to handle it. Which explains why more people don’t reach their personal goals. It’s not laziness. It’s not lack of motivation. It’s not lack of education. It’s fear. They fear the struggle. They fear the ‘what if’ part of success that says ‘what if it doesn’t work out?’.
I was sixteen. He, a mere fourteen months my senior. We sat facing one another, my knuckles wrapped tightly around the armrest, his hands lying casually in his lap. Conversation was light, the air around us tense for me, for him, not so much. He smiled mischievously and I, trying to hide the sheer panic creeping through my every vein, returned that smile with what could not have been more than a grimace. Suddenly, his position changed, as did his facial expression. We were no longer eye to eye. It appeared that he was rising, but without standing. From where I was seated and from what I could see between the tears flooding from my eyes, the smile on his face had become a huge grin accompanied by a full fit of laughter.
By the time the plane leveled, my brother had regained his composure while I was still dry…