There’s good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.
It’s hard to contain my excitement about my plans for the end of the month. Calgary Fan Expo will begin on the last weekend in April. This year’s guests have me really excited, as it’s a very Gen-X-friendly list.
What has me really excited is the four Hobbits from The Lord of the Rings will be there, as well as Gimli. I honestly can’t wait!
I will also be donning my newly designed Hobbit costume I bought last year and had custom pants made from someone who worked on costuming in The Hobbit.
But this isn’t just about meeting actors… it’s about what these characters meant to me.
Why Hobbits Matter
It’s like in the great stories, my Frodo. The ones that really mattered…
These stories were originally written with children in mind—Hobbits representing that sense of innocence and simplicity. But these stories wound up transcending the initial intention, and gained a lot of fans along the way. Some are diehard book lovers; others discovered the story through the films.
I first watched Lord of the Rings trilogy in theatres when each came out near Christmas every year. Then I read The Hobbit (as it was shorter). But my greatest triumph was reading the whole Lord of the Rings book. As someone who struggled with reading and keeping my attention on the words, that was a big deal. And I did this without the ADHD medication!
To me, Hobbits matter because they are just ordinary folk thrust into an adventure. They maintain their simplicity throughout their journey. It’s what made them so endearing—not only to the fans of the series, but also the other characters in Middle-Earth. They weren’t chosen because they were powerful. They were chosen because they kept going.
Home is Behind, the World Ahead…
I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.
Each of the four Hobbits represented certain things:
All four characters wound up playing important roles in the journey. Frodo suffered so much and yet he kept going. Samwise was there alongside him for the whole journey, and helped him along the way. Pippin wound up trying to help a young Faramir deal with his difficult father. Merry assisted in the battle that claimed the Lord of the Nazgûl. Nothing would have been accomplished without these four small heroes.
Nobody Tosses a Dwarf
Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.
Of course I’m equally excited to see Gimli again. John Rhys-Davis was at Calgary Fan Expo last year as well, so I already had seen him before. It would be lovely to see him with the Hobbits and see how they interact with each other.
Gimli represented unexpected depth. He was loyal and a brave warrior. His friendship with Legolas was an interesting one. At times, he struggled to reconcile the past and his feelings of betrayal from the Elves. Yet he made a great friend in Legolas. There’s a lesson there—put your differences aside and see the person near you for who they truly are.
Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
Despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not.
Sometimes when the load I carry feels heavy, I think of the Hobbits. Look at what they had to endure? What they valued? What really mattered to them? That’s what really matters, in the end.
If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.
With them as inspiration, I gain resilience, emotional endurance, valuing kindness, and believing that small actions matter.
All’s Well That Ends Better
Having the chance to see the four Hobbits—and Gimli—in person is a huge deal for me. I’m excited to see their exclusive show. It will also mark the first time I wear my purple Hobbit costume that I created myself. It all begins on April 24th. I will be sure to write my experiences down in a special blog post once I’ve had some time to recover from the excitement of the weekend.
You Shall Not Pass!
Diana has often had moments where she doesn’t want me to move forward. Sometimes it feels like she’s playing the role of Gandalf.
I often think of her as a Hobbit as well. She’s a small creature, with incredible heart. She enjoys the simple pleasures of life. Her often quiet presence is enough to get me through the toughest journeys. Diana knows how to be a great emotional support as well. It’s almost like I have my own Samwise Gamgee alongside me on my journey through life.
Final Thought: The Journey is Worth Fighting For
Home is behind, the world ahead, and there are many paths to tread through shadows to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight.
There is good in this world—and it’s always worth fighting for. To me, an epic journey through Middle-Earth has taught me how to be resilient in the face of many difficulties. The four Hobbits remind me that you don’t have to be the strongest to be the hero. You just have to keep going.
Even the smallest person can change the course of the future.
Who was your favourite Hobbit? Mine was Samwise Gamgee. Tell me about what this book or movie series meant to you in the comments below. Let’s start a conversation.
I’m really excited about The Muppet Show coming back, in a way that feels similar to when it first aired. I have grown up on The Muppets. Everything from Sesame Street to The Muppet Show helped shape who I am today. So did the movies—The Muppet Movie, The Great Muppet Caper, and The Muppets Take Manhattan—along with many later iterations.
I don’t know where I’d be without Rowlf the Dog’s constant dad jokes encouraging me to do the same. The sarcasm from Statler and Waldorf didn’t hurt either. And who didn’t love The Rainbow Connection? Such a beautiful song.
This is a post dedicated to the Muppets. Let’s get things started!
Lessons From Frogs, and Pigs, and Chickens, and Things
One of the first toys I had that I absolutely loved was a large stuffed animal of Mr. Snuffleupagus. Growing up on Sesame Street, and seeing all the interactions between people and Muppets, helped form who I am. Who doesn’t remember “a loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter”?
So my mornings were spent watching Sesame Street. One day a week they had a prime time show called The Muppet Show. It was fun to see the reporter Kermit now hosting a show similar to a lot of variety shows in the 1970s. Miss Piggy quickly became one of my favourite characters. She stood alongside Wonder Woman and Princess Leia as one of my early influences. Sweet and gentle one minute and karate chopping her way through the next, Miss Piggy was bold, unpredictable, and utterly delightful.
The movies made a huge impact on me as well. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think fondly of The Rainbow Connection. When I rewatched The Muppets Take Manhattan as an adult, I got more of the innuendos. Janice quickly became my favourite Muppet. One of her lines—about not taking her clothes off for anyone, even if it was “artistic”—made me love her instantly.
Watching The Muppets always made me feel like I was part of their world. They mostly got along well with each other, had vastly different personalities, and felt so welcoming. It was often great to see what shenanigans they would get themselves into, and how Kermit would deal with it. They made it cool to be a weirdo.
Looking back, the Muppets taught me that there’s room for everyone on the stage—even the weird ones.
What Was Sundered and Undone Shall Be Whole
I have mentioned The Dark Crystal before in one of my blog posts, maybe even a couple of posts. It was a wonderful fantasy movie that just captivated me as a kid, and once again as an adult. I even enjoyed the brief series (and really wish they’d make some more of it!)
The idea of Jen and Kira as child-like—or even Hobbit-like—characters really appealed to me. This movie felt more grown-up to me when I was a kid and had a lovely story to it. Some scenes were a little frightening, like when they stripped Chamberlain down to barely any feathers left. But the message of the movie was not lost on me.
What stayed with me was the idea that there is both good and evil in everyone—and that they cannot exist without each other.
The Lovers, the Dreamers, and Me
I still get excited whenever anything Muppet-related comes out. Yoda was my favourite character in Star Wars because he was clearly a Muppet and voiced by Frank Oz. I’ve watched and loved everything that has come out in the last few years that was Muppet-related. There was a time when I didn’t watch Muppets, I think in the era of the 1990s. That just means they’ll be on my list of things to watch very soon.
Now that the historic Muppet Show is back on Disney+, it has me so excited and happy. Let’s hope they do a “Pigs in Space” sketch, and so many others that were staples. Only one episode in and it feels like the show never went off the air. I watched it just before I went to work last night. Of course that just means I have had the theme song to The Muppet Show in my head ever since. Honestly? I don’t mind it. It’s a fun little song.
Then there’s the Mahna Mahna song… Which enters my mind at least every couple of weeks.
The point I’m trying to make is I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving the Muppets. I’m excited to see where the show goes from here, and any future ideas. Perhaps a new Muppet movie sometime soon.
Hi-Ho! Thanks For the Memories!
This post was intended to be a love letter to the Muppets. Special thanks to Jim Henson, Frank Oz, and everyone else who has contributed to the creation of The Muppet Show. I’ll never stop loving them. I hope they keep coming back. I’ll leave this post where it began—with the opening lines that still make me smile every time I hear them:
“It’s time to play the music. It’s time to light the lights…”
Many moons ago, on the very day I was born, the number one song at the time was “Fly, Robin, Fly!” by Silver Convention. It almost seems predestined that one of my all-time favourite heroes is Richard Grayson, a.k.a. Robin, and later Nightwing. This is a post dedicated to him—indeed, SuperMell wouldn’t exist without Nightwing’s inspiration with the costume.
This isn’t just a post about a superhero though. I grew up with him, and in many ways, grew alongside him. He’s always been a part of my life in some way, shape or form. This is the story of how one fictional character can impact the life of one girl. That idea—of evolving rather than escaping your origin—is something I’ve explored before in Origin Rewritten: Becoming the Hero I Needed Back Then.
As early as I can remember, I quickly became a fan of Robin. Watching old reruns of the 1960s Batman TV show, and the Super Friends cartoon was how I was introduced to him. In fact, I think he may have been my first crush. I didn’t know the difference between live action and cartoons, so I thought he was the same person. He was so cool, so smart, and, honestly? Every time he said, “Holy [whatever], Batman!”, the young me thought he was swearing, which made him seem edgy as well.
The rest of my early formative years, I spent watching more of Robin in the various DC cartoons, In fact, you could argue I grew up with Robin as he was growing up. The thing that set him apart from all the other superheroes was that he was a kid. A teen sidekick. He was closer to my age and had no real superpowers, but was incredibly athletic and could always solve riddles like they were no big deal.
Growing Up Alongside Him
When I became a teenager, Robin had grown up into a young adult and took on a new persona as Nightwing. I struggled as a teenager due to many years being bullied at school. That period shaped how I saw myself for years, something I later unpacked more fully in End of Arc: The Year I Reclaimed My Power. I wasn’t allowed to play with toys anymore, because I was too old, yet not old enough.
In Junior High School I developed epilepsy in my teens and had a huge seizure that had me hospitalized. On that fateful day, I was given two comic books: one of which was Secret Origins featuring the Teen Titans.
Even though it was a spotlight on the Teen Titans, this story was all about Robin becoming Nightwing, growing up, making mistakes, becoming a leader. This issue reignited my love for him, and I became a comic book collector soon after.
Becoming Nightwing
His journey from sidekick to a hero in his own right didn’t happen gracefully. He had a falling out with his mentor/father, Batman. He struggled with his feelings about Bruce a lot in those days. I suppose that’s what happens sometimes when kids grow into young adults. They suddenly don’t agree with their parents or want to do things their own way. Not necessarily to be argumentative, but because you have to figure things out yourself. And sometimes parents make mistakes, too. Maybe their way isn’t necessarily the right way!
Becoming Mell
In a strange way, I found myself relating deeply to this chapter of Grayson’s story. Watching him navigate the complicated space between guidance and independence mirrored something I was experiencing in my own life at the time. Seeing a hero choose his own path mirrored something I was slowly learning myself—what it means to become a hero of my own choosing.
Early adulthood is often a period of friction—not because of conflict, but because of growth. You begin to question who you are, what you believe, and how you want to move through the world. Sometimes that process comes with tension, even in loving families, simply because becoming yourself requires redefining old dynamics.
Seeing that struggle reflected in a fictional hero helped more than I realized at the time. It was comforting to know that uncertainty, disagreement, and distance didn’t mean failure—they were part of becoming something more whole. Even in a comic book, it reminded me that growth doesn’t happen without a little discomfort, and that relationships can evolve rather than break.
That realization stayed with me.
Why Nightwing Still Matters to Me
Other iterations of Nightwing have also been nice to watch, namely in the DC animated universe, and even the Titans live action show, which was awesome, by the way! I like how his character evolved in Young Justice. I loved how his character handled dealing with an unknown son of Batman in the Son of Batman animated movie, then later with the Teen Titans cartoon of the same style and voice actors.
Nightwing evolved from a spunky extroverted acrobat, to a troubled young adult, to a hero of his own choosing. Sure, he still gets inspiration from Batman (I mean, Nightwing is directly related to Batman), but he does things his own way. He refused to be just like Bruce and became more of what he used to be before the trauma. In other words, he actually healed from his trauma—and he has made some amazing friends along the way.
While I am not an extrovert, nor an athletic beast as Grayson is, I always found his character to be captivating. He grew up, became his own person, and found a way back to having a healthy relationship with his adopted father. Where Bruce embraced the darkness, Robin excelled at the limelight. I mean, he grew up in a circus, performing as a young kid of 10 years old on the trapeze. He was born to be a star.
When I chose my SuperMell moniker, the costume was directly inspired by Nightwing’s costume, only changed the blue to purple, and the exaggerated bird on his chest to a stylized M. He’s been such a huge influence to me that I couldn’t have imagined another type of costume. Blue is Grayson’s favourite colour. Mine is purple.
Richard Grayson has been a huge influence on my life since I can remember. Besides Fly, Robin, Fly, there was also Rockin’ Robin by Jackson Five that always made me think of the superhero and not the bird (I do love the bird, too, though). I decided to write this post about him because I wouldn’t have grown into the person I am today without seeing his journey into a hero of his own design.
Who is your favourite superhero? What about that hero inspires you to be a better person? Share in the comments. I’d love to hear your story.
A tribute to Rob Reiner and the power of storytelling
Boy the way Glen Miller played, Songs that made the hit parade, Guys like us we had it made, Those were the days,
And you know who you were then, Girls were girls and men were men, Mister we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again,
Didn’t need no welfare states Everybody pulled his weight, Gee our old Lasalle ran great, Those were the days
Ever since the tragic news of Rob Reiner‘s death hit me, I have had this song in my head, performed by Archie and Edith Bunker at the beginning of every All in the Family episode. The news that Rob Reiner and his wife Michele were tragically killed was a shock that hit me hard. Reiner’s work — from All in the Family to Stand by Me and beyond — shaped so many chapters in my life. His passing is a loss not only of a filmmaker but of a voice that helped encourage how I understand friendship, courage, and what it means to be human.
All in the Family
Some of my earliest memories of watching TV, besides Sesame Street, involve watching this show. I may have been too young to understand what the context of the show was about, but enjoyed watching it nonetheless.
A few years later, I watched the reruns and understood more clearly what the show was saying. Archie Bunker was this guy who always thought he was right to believe in whatever he believed in, and would constantly be butting heads with his son-in-law, Mike Stivic, otherwise known as “Meathead” in Archie’s words. It was older generation versus newer generation ideology. As a youngster, I could understand that.
Not too long ago, I managed to watch the series back when I had cable and it was on TV. Honestly, it still holds up today as much as it did back then. Republican versus Democrat. Left versus right. What struck me was the ongoing clash between Archie’s idea of how things were “supposed to be” and Mike’s insistence that the world had changed—and how the show often let Mike be right in the end.
The series was ahead of its time for the 1970s, and indeed some of the topics are just as relevant today as they were in the 1970s. The storytelling was what mattered. It was a great show, and I always loved how passionate Mike was about his arguments. It was the first introduction to Rob Reiner for me.
Stand By Me
Yes, the title of this post is from the movie. A tribute to Reiner would not be anything if I didn’t mention one of my all-time favourite movies, which happened to be one of his early directorial debuts. I have mentioned the movie before, in both my post about Wil Wheaton and the post about The Movies That Shaped Me.
As a child, I learned to love and appreciate a good story quite early on. One of those formative movies for me was Stand By Me. A group of four youngsters go on a quest to find a dead body, only to discover some truths about themselves and work through some of their traumas. Rob Reiner deliberately cast young actors who perfectly matched their characters, revealing how intentionally he wanted to tell this story.
I’ve spoken already about what the movie meant to me. I’ll try not to repeat myself too much here. It was the first introduction to some of my favourite actors. The story and performances captivated me so deeply that they still resonate with me today. It was a very humanistic story. You could tell Reiner had a clear direction he wanted this story to go through. Even better, is watching old interviews and behind the scenes footage of how Reiner would motivate the kids to act in this scene. He’d always end the emotionally heavy scenes with a hug.
What His Stories Taught Me
There are countless more films that were just as inspirational as Stand By Me and All in the Family were, but I don’t want this to be a body of work type of post. Stories don’t have to be flashy to be powerful. That is true for both of these examples. His stories were very human, very real, emotionally raw, and powerful.
Both of these examples showed ordinary people in ordinary situations. Basically, this let me know early on that it’s okay to be ordinary. Everyone has a story worth telling. Ordinary people matter just as much as any famous person. That is what his stories were about, and that’s why I loved them so much.
Even within All in the Family, with the constant arguing and yelling, you could tell they still loved each other. Conflict doesn’t have to be cruel. It’s even okay to have arguments in a family situation. That doesn’t mean you don’t love each other. One of the best episodes shows Mike and Archie trapped together in a cold room at the bar, where Archie opens up about his father and explains that “Meathead” was actually his father’s way of showing love. It was such a powerful scene, and you could tell it impacted Mike, expertly acted by Rob.
There’s also a sense of power in vulnerability. It’s okay to not be okay. And it’s okay to cry about things that have hurt you. It’s in fact the only way you can deal with it, otherwise you just bottle it all up, and end up angry and resentful. To think that four young twelve-year-old boys were dealing with some emotionally powerful things, and not one of them made fun of each other for crying, was, in a way, Reiner telling the audience that if kids can get this, so can adults.
Why These Stories Stay With Me
Once in a while, I pull out the Stand By Me DVD and watch it. Every so often, if I find the All in the Family show somewhere I try to watch it. These stories have impacted me in very profound ways. I think I’ll always find some joy in watching them. Whether portraying a working-class family arguing around a living room or four boys walking railroad tracks, Reiner trusted his audience to feel instead of being lectured.
The lessons from watching All in the Family in particular really shaped who I am as a person. These shows taught me empathy, reinforced the importance of women’s, racial, and LGBTQ+ rights, and showed me that most people ultimately want the same thing: to be happy.
I know it seems weird to focus on films. Some people think TV rots the brain. Maybe it does. Or maybe it teaches you something. I grew up in a generation raised on television, so these stories genuinely matter to me.
I love a good story. That’s why these two examples mean so much to me. They were good stories about ordinary people.
Final Thought
The world may have lost a Hollywood icon, but his stories will continue to endure. Great stories can long outlive their creators. It has happened before, and it will happen again.. The best storytellers don’t tell us what to think; they show us how to feel.
What was a story by Reiner that you found emotionally captivating? How did it impact your life? Which of his movies made you feel less alone? Feel free to share it in the comments.
It’s probably no surprise to anyone reading my blog that I’ve always loved stories on the screen. Whether it’s cartoons, sitcoms, compelling TV, or the big screen—visual storytelling has always spoken to me. As an undiagnosed ADHD kid, watching movies was much easier than reading (hello, wandering mind). These are the movies that shaped me.
The Iron Giant — Choosing Who You Want to Be
This movie was absolutely terrific. The animation style (2D really should make a comeback!), the characters, the story—all very real to me.
A brief description of this movie:
In this animated adaptation of Ted Hughes’ Cold War fable, a giant alien robot (Vin Diesel) crash-lands near the small town of Rockwell, Maine, in 1957. Exploring the area, a local 9-year-old boy, Hogarth, discovers the robot, and soon forms an unlikely friendship with him. When a paranoid government agent, Kent Mansley, becomes determined to destroy the robot, Hogarth and beatnik Dean McCoppin (Harry Connick Jr.) must do what they can to save the misunderstood machine.
What resonated deeply with me was the unlikely friendship of a boy who had a vivid imagination with a giant metal robot who couldn’t remember anything about himself. The characters were well-thought out, and seemed very realistic to me for a time period movie.
Absolutely my favourite line in the whole movie is when Hogarth tells the robot: “You are who you choose to be.” Boom! Mic drop. That one line shaped me. It doesn’t matter what your circumstances are or your surroundings—you get to decide who you are, no one else!
And who doesn’t tear up when the Iron Giant decides to be Superman and sacrifices himself to save everyone? Certainly not me, as I continue to cry a lot at that part.
I think this has to be my all-time favourite animated movie. I’ve seen it hundreds of times and still find the story and characters quite compelling. There’s no doubt Don Bluth was a freaking genius of an animator, and this was his masterpiece as far as I’m concerned.
The plot:
Mrs. Brisby (Elizabeth Hartman), a widowed mouse, must move her children out of their home in a field before the local farmer starts plowing. Unable to leave because her son is ill, Mrs. Brisby seeks the help of nearby rats, who have heightened intelligence after being the subjects of scientific experiments. She receives an unexpected gift from the elder rat, Nicodemus (Derek Jacobi). Soon Mrs. Brisby is caught in a conflict among the rats, jeopardizing her mission to save her family.
This movie began my interest in animal rights and I fully credit it for introducing me to the dark realities of animals being cruelly used in laboratory experiments. This movie started my whole mentality around animals and how much I hate how humans treat them, eventually even becoming a vegetarian for my New Year’s resolution in 1997. It still sickens me that we use them in this manner. I mean, I think—by now—we know how cosmetics affect us. What’s the point in causing rabbits to go blind by spraying it in their eyeballs? They don’t have tear ducts. It’s just cruel.
I think what I also enjoyed a lot about this movie was the voice of Mrs. Brisby. She was sheepish and not quite sure of herself when talking, but her actions certainly spoke louder than her words ever could. She’d clearly sacrifice her own life to save her children, and cared enough about the rats to decide to help them when she learned NIMH was coming to the farm. I still bawl my eyes out when she thinks she’s lost her kids to the mud. This was the most emotional movie I have ever experienced, and I deeply resonated with it.
The NeverEnding Story — Surviving the Swamp of Sadness
I know some of these movies I’ve mentioned before in some other posts. This one tops the list as one of my all-time favourite live-action movies.
On his way to school, Bastian (Barret Oliver) ducks into a bookstore to avoid bullies. Sneaking away with a book called “The Neverending Story,” Bastian begins reading it in the school attic. The novel is about Fantasia, a fantasy land threatened by “The Nothing,” a darkness that destroys everything it touches. The kingdom needs the help of a human child to survive. When Bastian reads a description of himself in the book, he begins to wonder if Fantasia is real and needs him to survive.
Can you guess why this movie affected me deeply? A kid who loses himself in books and imaginary worlds to escape the harsh reality of his life felt so deeply personal to me that it was almost like I was Bastian. He has it pretty rough: his mom died, his dad’s on his case to face responsibilities and keep his feet on the ground, he’s getting bullied, and he’s having issues with school. Except for the dead mother, this was me as a kid!
Every single time I watch this movie, I gain new insights into it that I didn’t see before. As an adult, rewatching it hits even harder. Fantasia was a direct reflection of his life at that point. Everything was symbolic. Losing Artax in The Swamp of Sadness was a direct link to him losing his mother and the depression that took place after. The Nothing was symbolic of him losing his imagination and the G’mork was essentially his father. The whole conversation between Atreyu and G’mork was the best scene:
G’mork: Foolish boy. Don’t you know anything about Fantasia? It’s the world of human fantasy. Every part , every creature of it, is a piece of the dreams and hopes of mankind. Therefore, it has no boundaries.
G’mork: Because people who have no hopes are easy to control. And whoever has control has the power.
So much symbolism in that conversation. I deeply felt connected to the story and the character of Bastian.
The Goonies — Misfits and Found Family
They just don’t make movies anymore like they used to, do they? The Goonies and various other movies of the 1980s were not only geared for kids, but adults found them equally entertaining. The Goonies is one of those timeless classics that had a profound impact on me. The story goes:
Old-fashioned yarn about a band of adventurous kids who take on the might of a property developing company which plans to destroy their home to build a country club. When the children discover an old pirate map in the attic, they follow it into an underground cavern in search of lost treasure but come up against plenty of dangerous obstacles along the way.
Full of excitement and adventure, danger and intrigue, and a sense of magic that timeless stories always seem to have. I continue to enjoy watching it to this day. It was my introduction to Sean Astin (who also played my favourite character in Lord of the Rings). I loved how this small group of misfits found a sense of community by trying to survive both the Fratellis and the various booby traps along the way. Very funny, very exciting. Always a classic and one I never fail to watch whenever I get the chance. I always wanted to be one of the Goonies…
Stand By Me — Truth, Trauma, and Growing Up
Yes, I definitely mentioned this movie before in my The Ones Who Shaped Me post about Wil Wheaton, but the movie deserves a shout out on this post as well. The plot:
After learning that a stranger has been accidentally killed near their rural homes, four Oregon boys decide to go see the body. On the way, Gordie Lachance (Wil Wheaton), Vern Tessio (Jerry O’Connell), Chris Chambers (River Phoenix) and Teddy Duchamp (Corey Feldman) encounter a mean junk man and a marsh full of leeches, as they also learn more about one another and their very different home lives. Just a lark at first, the boys’ adventure evolves into a defining event in their lives.
I don’t think this brief description I pulled from Google does this movie justice. This movie made me interested in Wil Wheaton, and his costars as well. It was interesting how very different they all were from each other onscreen as characters, but also the actors really fit their characters to a tee. What resonated with me was the character of Gordie Lachance and how he was dealing with grief, being ignored by his mother, and bullied by his father. Unlike his brother—the athlete—he was the creative kid; the writer. His father didn’t understand any of that. It still breaks my heart knowing how close Wil Wheaton’s real life was to his character’s story. Nevertheless, I can’t say this movie didn’t profoundly affect me as a kid.
How These Stories Forged My Hero Path
I have always been an empathic type. I feel things very deeply and get affected by what I see onscreen more times than I care to admit. (Seriously, why do all cartoon movies have some sad thing that happens that makes me cry?!!) Through the various adventures I have seen through these movies, I transform into a different version of myself. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the impact of these movies that I continue to enjoy to this day.
It’s true that every person you meet writes on the slate of who you are. You take a piece of them and add it to yourself. For me, I feel the same way about these stories and characters. Each of these movies—and countless others—have impacted me and shaped me in some way, shape, or form. Sometimes it’s a particular character, sometimes a line, or even the thrill of an exciting adventure—but there’s no doubt it has profoundly shaped who I’ve become.
Diana—The Fiercest Warrior Yet
I know for a fact that Diana likes to watch tv as well with me. I can always count on her laying on my lap, watching the screen with her head up. She absolutely loves cartoons—the sillier the better! I’ve seen her on more than a few occasions watching a scene with great interest. Even the last episode of Stranger Things caught her attention—she sat upright and watched with full focus. I don’t know if she likes any particular character or if any of them mean anything to her, but I do know she enjoys them as much as I do.
Final Thought
Empathy and a vivid imagination can go a long way in shaping who you are. These are just a few examples of some of the movies that shaped me. Each one taught me something about myself—that it’s okay to be shy, geeky, unsure of yourself. Despite these apparent “flaws”, you are who you choose to be. Once you accept who you are—and that you are in charge of your life—things get a whole lot easier to handle.
What are some of the stories that have shaped you in your life? Did any of mine impact you as much as it did me? Share your thoughts in the comments.
One of my all-time favourite animated movies — if not the favourite — was The Secret of N.I.M.H. The story was darker than most cartoons at the time, and to a young girl constantly surrounded by princesses and happily-ever-afters, it felt real.
Despite the talking animals, the story of a widowed mother trying to save her son — and ultimately her whole family — struck a deep chord with me. It was emotional, impactful, and beautifully performed. I later learned that Wil Wheaton voiced her older son, and that connection would stay with me.
Then came Stand By Me. A story about four boys searching for a dead body might sound like an odd favourite, but I’ve always been drawn to stories with emotional weight. I instantly related to Wheaton’s character, Gordie Lachance — shy, creative, and burdened with grief and self-doubt. Even as a kid, I could see that pain behind his eyes.
When I later learned that Wheaton brought parts of himself to that role, it made sense. His performance was both powerful and painfully human.
I didn’t start watching Star Trek: The Next Generation until Season 3. I’ll admit it — when it first aired, I thought Star Trek was “too nerdy.” But when I discovered Wil Wheaton was part of the cast, I decided to tune in — and that decision changed everything.
That was the start of my love for Star Trek. The show’s blend of humanity, exploration, and teamwork felt like family to me. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if Wheaton hadn’t been there to draw me in — proof that sometimes fandoms find you right when you need them most.
The Great Depression
No, not the one from the 1930s — mine.
Growing up in a small town, I was bullied relentlessly — back when it was dismissed as “teasing” and never taken seriously. By junior high, I knew I was depressed, even if I didn’t yet have the language for it.
Star Trek: The Next Generation became my safe place. It aired in syndication after school every day, and for two hours, I could escape. The stories, the friendships, and the sense of hope gave me a reason to hold on. It showed me what healthy connection and belonging could look like, even when I felt isolated in real life.
When I couldn’t find work after high school, my depression deepened. I was trapped in the same town that hurt me, hearing classmates actively discourage people from hiring me. I survived by disappearing into Star Trek and superhero comics — worlds where people overcame impossible odds.
Those stories — and Wheaton’s presence in them — gave me hope when I had none.
WilWheaton.net
In the early days of the internet, I discovered Wil Wheaton’s blog, and I was instantly hooked. His writing was raw, honest, and often frustrated with the same world that had once cheered him. It made me feel seen.
As someone still processing years of bullying and trying to find my place in the world, it was incredibly healing to read a public figure be that vulnerable. I wasn’t alone anymore.
Because of Wil Wheaton, I started blogging too. I found that I could be more open online than in person. Over time, I realized how therapeutic it was — writing gave my pain shape and then set it free.
One day, I wrote a furious blog post about a junior-high bully who had haunted my thoughts for years. I poured out every detail, every resentment, every wound. When I finished, the obsession was gone. It was as if I’d exorcised him from my mind. That was the moment I realized writing could heal — a discovery that began with Wil Wheaton’s blog.
When I read his memoir Just a Geek, I was going through my own personal struggles. His openness about regret and self-doubt was both humbling and motivating.
He wrote about his “Prove to Everyone” voice — that inner critic that demanded success to justify his choices. His was “Prove to everyone that quitting Star Trek was the right thing to do.” Mine was “Prove to everyone that I can be a success despite what they did to me.”
That drive led to a few bad decisions — including a marriage based more on fear than love — but seeing Wil’s honesty about his own missteps helped me forgive myself.
Years later, when he released Still Just a Geek, it hit even harder. By then, he’d opened up about his abuse and his path to recovery. Reading those words felt like closure — not only for him, but for the version of myself who first needed his example.
Just a Fan
I’m not a fangirl, exactly — more like a student. I see Wil Wheaton as a mentor in resilience and authenticity. As he’s learned to heal and speak openly about mental health, I’ve learned to accept my past and find meaning in it.
I’m not sure if Diana knows who Wil Wheaton is — but she’d probably approve. He’s an animal lover too, and his affection for his pets always warms my heart.
Diana, of course, believes all cats should have publicists and mental health advocates. 🐾 If they ever met, I think she’d purr in solidarity.
Final Thought
The impact Wil Wheaton has had on my life wasn’t small — it was seismic. From his performances to his writing to his advocacy for mental health, his honesty has helped shape who I am.
I hope he continues to heal and thrive — because through his courage, I learned how to unmask myself.
Few things in my life have had such a powerful influence on shaping who I am today as a simple tarot deck: the Osho Zen Tarot. From the very first time I used it, I felt like it was more than a deck of cards. It was a mirror—reflecting not my future, but my present. It showed me truths I wasn’t ready to see on my own, and that impact was so profound I knew it deserved its own entry.
This week’s theme, Rising From the Shadows, feels like the perfect moment to share this story. Because this deck was one of the first tools that helped me climb out of darkness and learn to live more fully in the here and now.
When I first arrived at college, I was lost. I carried years of baggage with me—scars from relentless bullying, the weight of depression, and the ache of never feeling like I belonged. The year after high school was my “Year of Hell.” Stuck at home with no job, no friends, and no hope, depression felt like a monster wrapped around me, sinking in its claws.
College should have been my chance to start over, but even there I doubted myself, my talent, and my ability to connect with others. I felt like an outsider watching everyone else move forward.
And then—light broke through. The one true friend I made introduced me to the Osho Zen Tarot. I remember the moment she showed me the deck. The artwork was beautiful, but what drew me in were the meanings. This wasn’t about fortune-telling or predicting the future. It was about the present moment—about facing yourself as you are, right here, right now. Whoever decided to take Osho’s teachings and translate them into a tarot format was, in my opinion, a genius.
Special Cards That Stood Out
Some cards cut straight to the heart of what I was carrying. Letting Go.Clinging to the Past.Comparison. They were exactly the messages I needed.
Every reading felt like a conversation with myself—a reminder that the pain of the past didn’t have to dictate my future, that my worth wasn’t measured by comparison, and that I had the power to release what no longer served me. Slowly, I began to shift. The deck didn’t erase my struggles, but it gave me a new perspective. It offered me tools to step out of the shadows and into a gentler, more mindful way of living.
Osho Became a Hero to Me
Osho himself might resist being called a hero, guru, or teacher. But through this deck, his words reached me at a time when I desperately needed them. He helped me rise from the darkness of depression and begin to see life as something worth experiencing, not just enduring.
I’m no expert in meditation, nor do I claim to have mastered his teachings. But the Zen Tarot opened a door. From there, I began reading his books—The Book of Understanding and Emotional Wellness stand out as two that resonated deeply. Each one left me with a new way of seeing, a reminder that the present moment holds more peace than the past or future ever could.
And I want to keep exploring. There are countless Osho writings I haven’t touched yet, and I welcome any recommendations from readers who’ve walked this path before me.
Still Rising
I won’t pretend that depression no longer affects me. My past left scars, and some shadows will always remain. But the Osho Zen Tarot gave me a way to move through the shadows instead of being consumed by them. It helped me understand that rising doesn’t mean leaving darkness behind forever—it means carrying light with you into it.
Diana, in her own way, practices the same wisdom. She doesn’t worry about yesterday or tomorrow. She curls up in the moment, paws at shadows, or basks in the light as it comes. Watching her is like seeing Osho’s teachings come to life in the simplest, purest form.
Final Thought
The Osho Zen Tarot didn’t just shape me—it saved me from drowning in the weight of the past and gave me permission to live here, now. That is the gift of rising from the shadows.
What tools, teachings, or wisdom have helped you step out of your own shadows? Share them in the comments—I’d love to hear your story.
Without a doubt, my favourite Star Trek captain is Captain Kathryn Janeway. Her leadership lessons have always inspired me—in the way she guided her crew and the way she carried herself.
For me, Star Trek—and Janeway in particular—isn’t just fandom. It has always been a source of inspiration, showing me the future I hope humanity can evolve into. With Janeway, it’s about how her example shapes the way I try to conduct myself professionally.
The story of Voyager—a ship lost 70,000 light years from home—resonated with me deeply. Janeway realized early that she had to be the strong one. Many of her crew had left family and friends behind. With no way to call for help in the Alpha Quadrant, she became their source of inspiration.
Unlike some captains, she chose not to distance herself. Instead, she leaned into empathy. She reminded them that they were in this journey together.
Another challenge was blending two crews: Starfleet officers and Maquis rebels. How do you merge such different groups, especially with strong personalities among the Maquis? Carefully, of course. Janeway built trust step by step. She even placed one of the most rebellious Maquis in charge of Engineering, recognizing her undeniable talent.
Among the most powerful Captain Kathryn Janeway leadership lessons is the way she led with empathy. She often sensed when something was wrong with her crew—even before they did. The way she would hold a hand, look someone in the eyes, and reassure them gave her crew the comfort they desperately needed. She became a mother figure. And like any mother, she made tough calls for the good of the whole.
Being so far from home must have been terrifying. The crew faced countless dangers and hostile aliens with no backup. Yet Janeway showed resilience. She never forgot that Starfleet’s mission was to explore. As a scientist, her curiosity was contagious. Even when the odds were stacked against them, she kept moving forward.
There were moments, however, when her mask slipped. She felt responsible for the decision that stranded them in the Delta Quadrant. At times, she doubted herself. Those moments of vulnerability made her feel even more human to me.
The Captain Kathryn Janeway leadership lessons I carry with me remind me to lead with both strength and compassion. In tough situations, I often ask myself: What would Janeway do? If I ever step into a leadership role, she is the model I’d want to follow. Her grace was unmatched, and her compassion taught me that empathy is not a weakness—it’s a strength.
Over the years, I’ve had both difficult bosses and wonderful ones. The great leaders had something in common with Janeway. They were kind, engaged with their “crew,” and trusted people to rise to the occasion. The Voyager crew always felt like a family, and that’s the kind of work environment I thrive in. I believe that family-like atmosphere was only possible because Janeway led with empathy and unity.
Janeway and My Current Journey
Right now, I’m preparing to start a new job with overnight hours. It feels like stepping into uncharted territory. Of course, there’s some anxiety. But when I think of Janeway—lost in the Delta Quadrant with no support—my challenges seem more manageable.
She kept her mission in focus. I’m trying to do the same. My immediate mission is adjusting my routine so I can succeed in my new role. I’ve mapped out my sleep schedule (with one exception for a medical test tomorrow morning). While I feel nervous, I’m also relieved. For the first time in a long time, I see light at the end of the tunnel.
Channeling Janeway’s energy feels right for this week and beyond. Her qualities—leadership, empathy, curiosity—are the traits I want to bring into my own life. Of course, I’ll remain myself. But like her, I want to show up with compassion and resilience.
I’m also taking this week gently, almost like a vacation. Little by little, I’m organizing and practicing self-care. Janeway valued self-care too—whether on the holodeck or by giving her crew shore leave. Leadership is not only about caring for others but also about caring for yourself.
I don’t just admire Kathryn Janeway. I’m learning to embody her traits in my own way. When I face doubt, I return to the same question: What would Janeway do?
Diana’s Insight
Diana, my cat, embodies some of Janeway’s qualities too. She carries herself with grace, handles tough situations (like an empty food dish!) with persistence, and shows compassion in her quiet, steady way. In her own feline style, she reminds me of Janeway’s balance of strength and kindness.
Final Thought
Captain Janeway taught me that leadership isn’t about titles or perfection. It’s about showing up, guiding with compassion, and keeping the crew together—no matter how far from home you feel.
Who inspires you in the way you carry yourself? Share your heroes in the comments—I’d love to hear about them.
Holodeck program engaged: The Journey of Luke Skywalker.
As I watch his story unfold again, I’m reminded of why his growth continues to inspire me. It’s not because he was flawless — it’s because he kept learning, adapting, and carrying his burdens into the unknown frontier.
⚔️ From Farmboy to Jedi
Luke began as a restless dreamer, staring out at twin suns and wishing for more. That image has always stayed with me because I’ve had my own “twin suns” moments — looking out, feeling stuck and small, yet knowing there was something bigger waiting beyond the horizon.
His growth didn’t come in leaps. Instead, it came through choices: stepping into adventure, placing faith in others, and finding the courage to act. That reminder fuels me whenever the path ahead feels uncertain.
🌌 Trials and Transformations
The holodeck shifts. Now Luke is older, facing darker, more uncertain trials. He lost friends, wrestled with temptation, and doubted himself. However, he pressed on despite those challenges.
This is the part of his story that resonates most with me. I’ve faced setbacks that felt overwhelming — jobs that drained me, moments of deep self-doubt, even times when I questioned my path completely. Because of those trials, I learned what resilience really means. It isn’t about never failing. Instead, it’s about rising again, no matter how many times you’ve been knocked down.
👴 The Older Luke
When The Last Jedi introduced Luke as older, scarred, and burdened, some fans resisted the change. I didn’t. To me, it felt like the natural evolution of a hero. He carried his scars, wrestled with his mistakes, and eventually rediscovered hope.
That version of Luke gave me permission to embrace my own imperfections. Even though life leaves marks, growth is still possible. Heroes don’t stay static — they stumble, they rise, and they grow again. That’s what makes them real.
As the holodeck program flickers, Diana curls beside me, watchful and calm. She doesn’t need a lightsaber or a mission across galaxies. Her presence is its own kind of heroism. Because of her quiet companionship, I remember that strength isn’t always loud — sometimes it purrs softly at your side.
✨ Final Thought
Luke Skywalker’s story is more than a legend from a galaxy far, far away — it’s a mirror. His frontier of growth reminds me that I am the hero of my own story, flaws and all, and that the next chapter is always waiting to be written.
💬 Who are the heroes — real or fictional — who’ve inspired your journey? Share them in the comments; I’d love to know who shaped your story.
I’ve always been an animal lover, ever since I can remember. Even now, if I see a wild animal — like the many rabbits at work — I feel a childlike glee and can’t help blurting out, “Bunny!” Animals have always been my spark of joy, the companions who made the world feel less lonely.
Growing up, I had some special pets. Our black-and-white kitty, Heidi, was like a den mother, taking turns sleeping with each of us and somehow knowing when we needed comfort. We also had Frisky, a sweet little border collie who was one of the best huggers I’ve ever known. She was often there when I was being bullied, a silent but steady protector.
Dogs will always hold a place in my heart, but cats — cats became my true allies.
Sgt. Lucy Pepper
As an adult, I longed for a cat of my own. When I went to the local SPCA in Wetaskiwin, Alberta, it was my brother who spotted her first: a sassy, playful nine-month-old tabby, ferociously wrestling her blanket. When I held her, my heart melted instantly. She wasn’t just a cat — she was my partner.
I named her Sgt. Lucy Pepper (and gave her more nicknames than I could count). She was fiercely photogenic, loved to crawl under the blankets to cuddle near my face, and had a feisty streak that made her seem larger than life. Even after breaking her leg in a curtain-climbing mishap, she adapted with resilience — dangling it off edges like a badge of honour.
She was my little warrior, my first true sidekick.
Friendly… to a Point
Lucy charmed almost everyone. She greeted cable guys, repairmen, and visitors with purrs and headbutts. But when she met my ex — the man I married during what I now call my “temporarily insane” years — she growled and hissed. Lucy, who loved everyone, gave me a warning I ignored at the time.
Looking back, I realize she saw the truth before I did. She was my guardian, trying to steer me away from a mistake that nearly cost me my sense of self.
My Constant Companion
Through moves, chaos, and heartbreak, Lucy was my anchor. When I was alone in Metro Vancouver, rebuilding my life, she was there — a steady, reassuring presence. In many ways, she was more than a pet. She was the reminder that I wasn’t alone, the soft but unshakable courage at my side.
Losing Lucy
When Lucy was ten, her health began to fail. Kidney disease stole her strength, and I faced the most painful decision of my life: letting her go.
It broke me. And yet, thanks to all the self-reflection I’d done, I understood the stages of grief. Knowing where I was in the cycle helped me move through it, though the ache of her loss never fully faded.
And when I was finally ready, I found another companion waiting for me: Diana, whose black fur and golden eyes reminded me of Wonder Woman. It felt like Lucy had passed me the torch, making sure I’d never face the world alone.
✨ Final Thought
Every hero needs a sidekick, and Lucy was mine. She taught me loyalty, intuition, and unconditional love. She may no longer be at my side, but her pawprints are etched into my story forever.
