I've moved this blog to a new location, as Word Press has more features and control options than blogger does. You can find a blog about common things at http://blogaboutcommonthings.wordpress.com/. My schedule is still Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, with today's blog in the works. I hope you enjoy the new location and layout, bigger and better things are in store.
Thanks for your continued readership and/or bookmarking, it means quite a bit to know that others enjoy my hobby as much as I do.
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commentary. Show all posts
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
We are the Sultans
The street was empty at 11:20 PM, an oddity for a four lane boulevard. It cut through the mostly residential area like a rotten log caught against a riverbed. Formerly green curbs were spotted with refuse from car windows. A McDonald's bag at the stop light, a toddler's car seat next to the freshly poured foundations. A dirt encrusted condom in front of a church. This filth pales to the beauty of the sky, but even that's choked with light pollution.
A man garbed entirely in black paced down the right side of the road, passing houses that should've been more splendid. His side of the street was lined entirely with fences, breaking only for intersections. He could tell the demographics of each family as he walked past by the fences and what could be spied through. A tall white PVC fence with perfectly trimmed grass - the upper middle class family with Mexican lawn care. The chipped brown wooden fence enclosing old Fisher-Price mock houses - the family that suffered when the stock market thought it was best to cower in a corner. The man didn't even bother looking into the chain-links anymore, they depressed him.
His pace was uneven and varied with each song his headphones delivered. He observed that he was shifting more weight to his left side and had been for years, but never noticed until today. He didn't like this fact, but his disdain wouldn't change it. It wouldn't undo his fall down a ladder five years prior working retail, in which he broke his ankle and never bothered to get it looked at. He set it reasonably well himself, but without the aid of medical coverage he couldn't even verify it's status now. He pretended it didn't bother him. The most pressing matter was the letter in his back pocket telling him that he couldn't graduate for another year. It pressed like an iron.
"Sultans of Swing" came on. His mood shifted to bittersweet and his pace slowed. Nothing around him mattered besides finding a reason to smile. He couldn't think about the future now, his plan for the year had just been smashed in it's knees before it could run away with him. Without the degree, there was no chance of finding a job. No job, no apartment. Nothing. For months that had made him smile when he needed to, now it would only twist his lungs.
He raised the volume and sang to himself. Maybe he'd be like Harry. Harry doesn't mind if he never makes the scene. He can play the honky-tonk like anything. Maybe he'd be a musician instead. He could take an old dreadnought guitar and play at public parks for rent. He could get big like Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, even if neither of them could sing and Springsteen's only saving grace was the help from his friends. It couldn't be that hard.
He knew this was a lie. They were exceptions, not rules. Most street musicians died hungry and alone. Most of the time they spent their final days pushing shopping carts full of empty beer cans they picked out areas like this. He knew it was no option, but the thought of playing guitar until he couldn't anymore brought the faintest smirk to his face. That was enough to get him home and into bed.
"Thank you, goodnight. Now it's time to go home."
A man garbed entirely in black paced down the right side of the road, passing houses that should've been more splendid. His side of the street was lined entirely with fences, breaking only for intersections. He could tell the demographics of each family as he walked past by the fences and what could be spied through. A tall white PVC fence with perfectly trimmed grass - the upper middle class family with Mexican lawn care. The chipped brown wooden fence enclosing old Fisher-Price mock houses - the family that suffered when the stock market thought it was best to cower in a corner. The man didn't even bother looking into the chain-links anymore, they depressed him.
His pace was uneven and varied with each song his headphones delivered. He observed that he was shifting more weight to his left side and had been for years, but never noticed until today. He didn't like this fact, but his disdain wouldn't change it. It wouldn't undo his fall down a ladder five years prior working retail, in which he broke his ankle and never bothered to get it looked at. He set it reasonably well himself, but without the aid of medical coverage he couldn't even verify it's status now. He pretended it didn't bother him. The most pressing matter was the letter in his back pocket telling him that he couldn't graduate for another year. It pressed like an iron.
"Sultans of Swing" came on. His mood shifted to bittersweet and his pace slowed. Nothing around him mattered besides finding a reason to smile. He couldn't think about the future now, his plan for the year had just been smashed in it's knees before it could run away with him. Without the degree, there was no chance of finding a job. No job, no apartment. Nothing. For months that had made him smile when he needed to, now it would only twist his lungs.
He raised the volume and sang to himself. Maybe he'd be like Harry. Harry doesn't mind if he never makes the scene. He can play the honky-tonk like anything. Maybe he'd be a musician instead. He could take an old dreadnought guitar and play at public parks for rent. He could get big like Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, even if neither of them could sing and Springsteen's only saving grace was the help from his friends. It couldn't be that hard.
He knew this was a lie. They were exceptions, not rules. Most street musicians died hungry and alone. Most of the time they spent their final days pushing shopping carts full of empty beer cans they picked out areas like this. He knew it was no option, but the thought of playing guitar until he couldn't anymore brought the faintest smirk to his face. That was enough to get him home and into bed.
"Thank you, goodnight. Now it's time to go home."
Sunday, April 18, 2010
On Demagogy.
"Demagogue" has a bitter taste to it by definition, but it doesn't have to be this way. Wikipedia lists four in their article about the word, and none are positive examples. Merriam-Webster has two definitions. The first echoes the Wikipedia page, but the second seems more fitting. "A leader championing the cause of the common people in ancient times," seems closer to my belief. The roots roughly translate to "lead people."
A demagogue is someone with the ability to empathize with people and convince them that something needs to be done. Demagogy is what public speakers mostly wish they could accomplish, and what the successful ones do achieve. It's a skill that's half learned, half inherent. It's a tool for leadership, like philosophy and psychology. In many cases, it's incorporated into this ability when cemented with diction and passion. Maybe that's why all the people listed on the page are such terrible human beings.
I learned the word from a game a few years back (your vocabulary increases exponentially when you play text-heavy games, it's amazing), it was a character class for some terrible table top platform. Upon hearing the ability, I jumped on it. The ability to sway minds and hearts with words is not only powerful, but I'd been learning it since early on in scouting. It was something I'd used in the past to save lives, organize people, and spare people from bodily harm. It's something wonderful that should be more common amongst people in leadership positions.
Demagogy isn't a key to limitless power, nor is it a promise of being able to change the world in a huge way. In some famous cases - Barack Obama most recently - it does. In most cases it's an underdeveloped ability that doesn't catch on most that can make use of it.
It isn't always used to positive effect. The most famous demagogue in history is Adolf Hitler, a violent madman responsible for unfathomable death. He never used force to get to power, he only used words. He believed what he was saying, and he knew how to and which strings to tug to convince his audience that he was telling the truth. When you tell a lie often enough, you start to forget the truth. After a long enough time, there is no more truth for you. People do this all the time, but most people don't have the ability to change minds. This is why it is so potentially dangerous. A demagogue could be anyone.
To the previous example, Barack Obama has a similar ability that gets used to a more positive effect so far. His skill is more learned than genuine, but the skill is still there. The speeches aren't particularly powerful, but the choice of diction is clear and concise. He chooses concepts that are important enough for his audience to hold on to, and tells them the things that he wants them to hear and know. While there are other clauses to most of what he says, he doesn't present them in the same way. No demagogue ever does. They must gather the consent to do what they plan to do, then execute it after. All politicians do this, but most aren't honest or genuine. These are two very important traits in any leader, and for an effective positive demagogue they are the most important traits one can have. There are other outside factors that relate to his presidency, but most have nothing to do with the ability to lead.
This can only exist if there is honesty in the world, because honesty is key. You must be trusted, and be able to trust yourself. You must not lie. You must be able to tell what you believe without fear of judgment for it, because you will be judged. You will be torn apart and criticized. You will not be well received by everyone, but the people that do will welcome you warmly. If you lie, people will know.
This can only exist if there is genuine care for the well being of the people you care about. You will not get anywhere if you're lying and working solely towards personal gain. You don't do it for money or fame, you do it to ensure that the lives of others will be enriched.
In my relatively short life so far, I've been in leadership roles many times. I've worked to help students, scouts, and a number of other young organizations that need voices. I care enough about my peers - even the ones I don't like - to fight for them. That's what a demagogue does, they do what they believe is right. The only thing more important than doing what is right is making sure that what you believe actually is.
A demagogue is someone with the ability to empathize with people and convince them that something needs to be done. Demagogy is what public speakers mostly wish they could accomplish, and what the successful ones do achieve. It's a skill that's half learned, half inherent. It's a tool for leadership, like philosophy and psychology. In many cases, it's incorporated into this ability when cemented with diction and passion. Maybe that's why all the people listed on the page are such terrible human beings.
I learned the word from a game a few years back (your vocabulary increases exponentially when you play text-heavy games, it's amazing), it was a character class for some terrible table top platform. Upon hearing the ability, I jumped on it. The ability to sway minds and hearts with words is not only powerful, but I'd been learning it since early on in scouting. It was something I'd used in the past to save lives, organize people, and spare people from bodily harm. It's something wonderful that should be more common amongst people in leadership positions.
Demagogy isn't a key to limitless power, nor is it a promise of being able to change the world in a huge way. In some famous cases - Barack Obama most recently - it does. In most cases it's an underdeveloped ability that doesn't catch on most that can make use of it.
It isn't always used to positive effect. The most famous demagogue in history is Adolf Hitler, a violent madman responsible for unfathomable death. He never used force to get to power, he only used words. He believed what he was saying, and he knew how to and which strings to tug to convince his audience that he was telling the truth. When you tell a lie often enough, you start to forget the truth. After a long enough time, there is no more truth for you. People do this all the time, but most people don't have the ability to change minds. This is why it is so potentially dangerous. A demagogue could be anyone.
To the previous example, Barack Obama has a similar ability that gets used to a more positive effect so far. His skill is more learned than genuine, but the skill is still there. The speeches aren't particularly powerful, but the choice of diction is clear and concise. He chooses concepts that are important enough for his audience to hold on to, and tells them the things that he wants them to hear and know. While there are other clauses to most of what he says, he doesn't present them in the same way. No demagogue ever does. They must gather the consent to do what they plan to do, then execute it after. All politicians do this, but most aren't honest or genuine. These are two very important traits in any leader, and for an effective positive demagogue they are the most important traits one can have. There are other outside factors that relate to his presidency, but most have nothing to do with the ability to lead.
This can only exist if there is honesty in the world, because honesty is key. You must be trusted, and be able to trust yourself. You must not lie. You must be able to tell what you believe without fear of judgment for it, because you will be judged. You will be torn apart and criticized. You will not be well received by everyone, but the people that do will welcome you warmly. If you lie, people will know.
This can only exist if there is genuine care for the well being of the people you care about. You will not get anywhere if you're lying and working solely towards personal gain. You don't do it for money or fame, you do it to ensure that the lives of others will be enriched.
In my relatively short life so far, I've been in leadership roles many times. I've worked to help students, scouts, and a number of other young organizations that need voices. I care enough about my peers - even the ones I don't like - to fight for them. That's what a demagogue does, they do what they believe is right. The only thing more important than doing what is right is making sure that what you believe actually is.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
It's not Hippyism.
The little things in life make me happy, things that other people would otherwise shrug at. A friend of mine works at a GameStop, and his branch was throwing out all the excess lanyards they had. As such, I now have an old Bionic Commando lanyard to hold my school ID from while on campus and at work. I didn't even know there was a game by that title until now. Then again, a google search tells me that it goes for $15 new on PS3, which suggests that I shouldn't know about it. The lanyard makes daily tasks far easier than life without it. I am quite satisfied with this surprise accidental gift.
Earlier while doing sound for an outdoor event on campus, I was thanked for doing sound by one of the speakers. I've been thanked in the past, but never genuinely, and rarely during the event itself. In this case a Vietnam Vet thanked me for making a peace-rally doable, even though I was there mostly for the sake of my job. The appreciation was thick in his voice, and it made me happy to know my work was appreciated. I know it is in most cases, even when it's unsaid. It's just nice to hear. Same way that "I love you," still means a lot in a relationship, even after four years with someone.
The small details are what matters in life, at least for me. Probably you too, even if you don't realize it. Everyone focuses too much on what they think will advance them in society, or what will pay the best, or what will get them the most action with the other sex. They don't realize that no matter how much of a status/money/pussy/dick they get, they won't be happy unless they appreciate the daily things for being daily. Why should I care that you're a raving lunatic over losing a game? I just like the detail that was put into the pieces. Why does it matter that a relationship ended? The flowers are in bloom, and you weren't working anyway.
I appreciate life as best I can, and if everyone else did the same, life would be as beautiful as it potentially could be.
Earlier while doing sound for an outdoor event on campus, I was thanked for doing sound by one of the speakers. I've been thanked in the past, but never genuinely, and rarely during the event itself. In this case a Vietnam Vet thanked me for making a peace-rally doable, even though I was there mostly for the sake of my job. The appreciation was thick in his voice, and it made me happy to know my work was appreciated. I know it is in most cases, even when it's unsaid. It's just nice to hear. Same way that "I love you," still means a lot in a relationship, even after four years with someone.
The small details are what matters in life, at least for me. Probably you too, even if you don't realize it. Everyone focuses too much on what they think will advance them in society, or what will pay the best, or what will get them the most action with the other sex. They don't realize that no matter how much of a status/money/pussy/dick they get, they won't be happy unless they appreciate the daily things for being daily. Why should I care that you're a raving lunatic over losing a game? I just like the detail that was put into the pieces. Why does it matter that a relationship ended? The flowers are in bloom, and you weren't working anyway.
I appreciate life as best I can, and if everyone else did the same, life would be as beautiful as it potentially could be.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Year of the Black Rainbow Review
A few months back I wrote a blog about my expectations for this album, and I nailed it on the head. Now you're getting a song by song fan review.
One
All Coheed albums have an introduction track. Of them, only "The Reaping" from No World For Tomorrow has had lyrics. It's better this way, the ambient atmosphere building to the opening track always helps build suspense for the overall album. Out of them all, "One" is possibly the worst. It's mostly ambient noise, without much melody to stand on it's own. For each of the other four albums, there is something you can hum about the leads. This one just makes you feel empty. That was the point, story wise, but it doesn't even qualify as a song this time around.
The Broken
Like all other albums in their discography, the pattern continues with a powerful, crowd arousing anthem. "The Broken" is straight forward and heavy, and the unofficial first single. It's the current lead song for concerts, and one of my favorites ever so far. If you had to listen to only one song from this album, it should be "World of Lines." If two, then "The Broken" should be your next number.
Guns of Summer
What's that? We need to show off what the new drummer is capable of? Okay! Guns of Summer has the most ballsy drum line out of any Coheed song so far. While the drums are fucking awesome, the rest of the song is rather... ininspiring. It shows well what they're capable of, but it's not really a very well written song. The chorus is open and free, which contrasts greatly with the insanity in the verses. I'll probably listen to this one less than the others. It seems like it'd be a nice chase scene, or something else with high tension.
Here We Are Juggernaut
Hey, it's a single. It took weeks/months(?) to grow on me, but "Juggernaut" has become one of my favorites of the singles. Initially I loved how diverse and bottom heavy it was, and how uplifting the chorus was, and the bridge, and just about each part individually. I hated how they came together. Maybe it's just weird compositional bridging, or the shift between major and minor. That could explain why the acoustic version is entirely in major, and is one of the best versions of any song they've ever wrote. The album version is good, but it takes time to sink in.
Far
Each album has one of these. The light, usually sappy songs with an airy substance recur, and each is more coherent than the last. "IRO-Bot" was bizarre, "Light and the Glass" was a power-ballad, "Wake Up" was a guilt-trip in major, and "Mother Superior" was too amazing for it's own good. This song has a lot to compete against. It has the benefit of Chris Penne's heavy drum influence to keep it going with an industrial feel, and the dirty guitars playing such a light, melodic piece add an interesting twist to a straight forward song. I like the album version better than the acoustic floating around online. "Far" gets a thumbs up.
This Shattered Symphony
This song is a little too busy for me, and once it's done trying to straighten out it's ADD, I'll be more than happy to review it. I suspect it's a major part of the storyline, but it's nearly my least favorite song on the album. It's heavy, and I suppose the writing isn't terrible, but it sounds too much like it's trying too hard.
World of Lines
I've been dying for this song since they used the instrumental as a background for a studio demo video. It's got a driving tempo and rhythm, a hook-heavy chorus, and verses that don't bore me. It doesn't try to overdo itself, and in the end it's my favorite song on the album (followed closely by "The Broken" and "Far.") You should listen to this one. Even if you don't like Coheed, or progressive rock, or oxygen. This one's good for everyone.
Made Out of Nothing
When the album was first put up on MySpace for all to hear, I felt like this song was the start of a heavy decline in the album. Now that I've heard it more, I really don't mind "Made Out of Nothing" as much. It's still very slow, very long, and not really all that interesting, but it's not bad. It makes a fantastic background sound while doing homework/cleaning/yardwork/etc, and it's got some minor hooks in it too. It'll get stuck in your head, you'll hate yourself for it, and then you'll listen to it again. It's not a bad thing, embrace it. Then go listen to the first half again.
Pearl of the Stars
Surprise! There's a second ballad. This one fits the pattern a little better, but has a Pink Floyd like breakdown/solo 3/5 into the song. I don't like this song very much though. It's disheartening: I love Pink Floyd, I love Coheed and Cambria. I should adore this song and need new pants after hearing. It might be the writing prospective though, lyrically the chorus is terrible. You NEVER rhyme "you" with "you." It's so full of cheese that it might as well give you arterial clogging. It should've/could've been better, but Claudio stepped on his own toes for this one. It's a nice song acoustic too, by the way. Strange flip-flop there. Really, if you start listening at the third minute, you can get straight to the best part of the song. The solo is one of the highlights of the album, but the rest of the song wouldn't ever let you know.
In the Flame of Error
The Pink Floyd theme carries over with the arrangement of this song, but it's quickly shot down. The song is complicated, and can't seem to make up its mind for what it wants to do. Some instances are Iron Maiden tribute, the chorus is driving and powerful, but the weird lapses in and out of "The Wall" era Floyd kind of hurts the vibe. There's also a weird vocal progression that jars with the melody of the song. I don't think I'd ever want to hear this one live. That makes me very, very sad to say. Quite the flaming error guys.
When Skeletons Live
A friend of mine that enjoyed the early leak of the album (he owns the hard copy now, don't worry) kept ranting about how much he loves this song. I gotta say, it's got some really cool guitar work going on. The structure of it doesn't catch me like I really hoped it would though. I can see why he liked it - and I imagine if I listen to it more it might stick with me in the same way too - but I don't think I'm sold on it. Besides that, I hate colloquialisms, and the chorus is built on one. Urgh.
The Black Rainbow
The theme for the past few albums has been a slow, heavy, moody, big finish. "The Light and the Glass," "The Final Cut," and "On the Brink" all set a precedent for "The Black Rainbow," one that's hard to meet. In this regard, it disappoints. It does not stand up to any of the others in the way it should. It's a pretty good jam, and a decent way to end the album, but it lacks the same balls the album started with. Rather than a slow, exploratory piece, it should've been more bombastic. It's very much an atmospheric piece that amplifies the chunk of story it represents, but it's too fucking long to stand as a song. I'm disappointed by this ending.
Overall
Songs loved: 4/11 [Broken, Juggernaut, Far, World]
Songs enjoyed: 4/11 [Guns, Nothing, Pearl, Skeletons]
Songs hated: 1/11 [Error]
I am indifferent to "One" (not counting towards the song mark), "Shattered Symphony," and "Black Rainbow." "Shattered Symphony" isn't a wonderful song, but I don't feel ripped off that it's taking up space on the album (as Flaming Error makes me feel right now). "Black Rainbow" isn't bad in itself, but it seems limited in it's use for me.
It's worth buying, but it's very different from most other Coheed albums. If you're a fan of progressive/metal/industrial things, then this album might rub you just right. I'm satisfied with it, but it's only with the promise of other amazing acoustic versions of the songs. "Here We Are Juggernaut"'s acoustic is one of their best unplugged pieces to date (the acoustic versions of "A Favor House Atlantic" and "The Light and the Glass" being it's competition). This also doesn't count the demos and bonus songs in different versions. I'll get to them eventually.
One
All Coheed albums have an introduction track. Of them, only "The Reaping" from No World For Tomorrow has had lyrics. It's better this way, the ambient atmosphere building to the opening track always helps build suspense for the overall album. Out of them all, "One" is possibly the worst. It's mostly ambient noise, without much melody to stand on it's own. For each of the other four albums, there is something you can hum about the leads. This one just makes you feel empty. That was the point, story wise, but it doesn't even qualify as a song this time around.
The Broken
Like all other albums in their discography, the pattern continues with a powerful, crowd arousing anthem. "The Broken" is straight forward and heavy, and the unofficial first single. It's the current lead song for concerts, and one of my favorites ever so far. If you had to listen to only one song from this album, it should be "World of Lines." If two, then "The Broken" should be your next number.
Guns of Summer
What's that? We need to show off what the new drummer is capable of? Okay! Guns of Summer has the most ballsy drum line out of any Coheed song so far. While the drums are fucking awesome, the rest of the song is rather... ininspiring. It shows well what they're capable of, but it's not really a very well written song. The chorus is open and free, which contrasts greatly with the insanity in the verses. I'll probably listen to this one less than the others. It seems like it'd be a nice chase scene, or something else with high tension.
Here We Are Juggernaut
Hey, it's a single. It took weeks/months(?) to grow on me, but "Juggernaut" has become one of my favorites of the singles. Initially I loved how diverse and bottom heavy it was, and how uplifting the chorus was, and the bridge, and just about each part individually. I hated how they came together. Maybe it's just weird compositional bridging, or the shift between major and minor. That could explain why the acoustic version is entirely in major, and is one of the best versions of any song they've ever wrote. The album version is good, but it takes time to sink in.
Far
Each album has one of these. The light, usually sappy songs with an airy substance recur, and each is more coherent than the last. "IRO-Bot" was bizarre, "Light and the Glass" was a power-ballad, "Wake Up" was a guilt-trip in major, and "Mother Superior" was too amazing for it's own good. This song has a lot to compete against. It has the benefit of Chris Penne's heavy drum influence to keep it going with an industrial feel, and the dirty guitars playing such a light, melodic piece add an interesting twist to a straight forward song. I like the album version better than the acoustic floating around online. "Far" gets a thumbs up.
This Shattered Symphony
This song is a little too busy for me, and once it's done trying to straighten out it's ADD, I'll be more than happy to review it. I suspect it's a major part of the storyline, but it's nearly my least favorite song on the album. It's heavy, and I suppose the writing isn't terrible, but it sounds too much like it's trying too hard.
World of Lines
I've been dying for this song since they used the instrumental as a background for a studio demo video. It's got a driving tempo and rhythm, a hook-heavy chorus, and verses that don't bore me. It doesn't try to overdo itself, and in the end it's my favorite song on the album (followed closely by "The Broken" and "Far.") You should listen to this one. Even if you don't like Coheed, or progressive rock, or oxygen. This one's good for everyone.
Made Out of Nothing
When the album was first put up on MySpace for all to hear, I felt like this song was the start of a heavy decline in the album. Now that I've heard it more, I really don't mind "Made Out of Nothing" as much. It's still very slow, very long, and not really all that interesting, but it's not bad. It makes a fantastic background sound while doing homework/cleaning/yardwork/etc, and it's got some minor hooks in it too. It'll get stuck in your head, you'll hate yourself for it, and then you'll listen to it again. It's not a bad thing, embrace it. Then go listen to the first half again.
Pearl of the Stars
Surprise! There's a second ballad. This one fits the pattern a little better, but has a Pink Floyd like breakdown/solo 3/5 into the song. I don't like this song very much though. It's disheartening: I love Pink Floyd, I love Coheed and Cambria. I should adore this song and need new pants after hearing. It might be the writing prospective though, lyrically the chorus is terrible. You NEVER rhyme "you" with "you." It's so full of cheese that it might as well give you arterial clogging. It should've/could've been better, but Claudio stepped on his own toes for this one. It's a nice song acoustic too, by the way. Strange flip-flop there. Really, if you start listening at the third minute, you can get straight to the best part of the song. The solo is one of the highlights of the album, but the rest of the song wouldn't ever let you know.
In the Flame of Error
The Pink Floyd theme carries over with the arrangement of this song, but it's quickly shot down. The song is complicated, and can't seem to make up its mind for what it wants to do. Some instances are Iron Maiden tribute, the chorus is driving and powerful, but the weird lapses in and out of "The Wall" era Floyd kind of hurts the vibe. There's also a weird vocal progression that jars with the melody of the song. I don't think I'd ever want to hear this one live. That makes me very, very sad to say. Quite the flaming error guys.
When Skeletons Live
A friend of mine that enjoyed the early leak of the album (he owns the hard copy now, don't worry) kept ranting about how much he loves this song. I gotta say, it's got some really cool guitar work going on. The structure of it doesn't catch me like I really hoped it would though. I can see why he liked it - and I imagine if I listen to it more it might stick with me in the same way too - but I don't think I'm sold on it. Besides that, I hate colloquialisms, and the chorus is built on one. Urgh.
The Black Rainbow
The theme for the past few albums has been a slow, heavy, moody, big finish. "The Light and the Glass," "The Final Cut," and "On the Brink" all set a precedent for "The Black Rainbow," one that's hard to meet. In this regard, it disappoints. It does not stand up to any of the others in the way it should. It's a pretty good jam, and a decent way to end the album, but it lacks the same balls the album started with. Rather than a slow, exploratory piece, it should've been more bombastic. It's very much an atmospheric piece that amplifies the chunk of story it represents, but it's too fucking long to stand as a song. I'm disappointed by this ending.
Overall
Songs loved: 4/11 [Broken, Juggernaut, Far, World]
Songs enjoyed: 4/11 [Guns, Nothing, Pearl, Skeletons]
Songs hated: 1/11 [Error]
I am indifferent to "One" (not counting towards the song mark), "Shattered Symphony," and "Black Rainbow." "Shattered Symphony" isn't a wonderful song, but I don't feel ripped off that it's taking up space on the album (as Flaming Error makes me feel right now). "Black Rainbow" isn't bad in itself, but it seems limited in it's use for me.
It's worth buying, but it's very different from most other Coheed albums. If you're a fan of progressive/metal/industrial things, then this album might rub you just right. I'm satisfied with it, but it's only with the promise of other amazing acoustic versions of the songs. "Here We Are Juggernaut"'s acoustic is one of their best unplugged pieces to date (the acoustic versions of "A Favor House Atlantic" and "The Light and the Glass" being it's competition). This also doesn't count the demos and bonus songs in different versions. I'll get to them eventually.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Writing Writer
When I was little I used to make up songs in my front yard. I'd sit at the base of a huge tree and hum ditties to myself until words came to mind. Writing used to be so easy then, there wasn't any effort to it. No worrying about falling into conventions, or being too repetitive, or following a meter and rhyme-scheme. All there was to it was spoken word with a melody.
Time went on and I started learning the ways of "real" writers. You need to pay attention to things like alliteration and allegory, and make sure that your syllabic patterns aren't cliche, or it'll seem like you're plagiarizing. All sources are cited, and the MLA margins and font formatting are too perfect, there's no life left in the writing. Everything that made it raw and beautiful has been ripped from the skeleton leaving a bare, desolate structure with no substance. It isn't always this way, but by and large this is how it turns out.
Things have changed for me now. I try desperately to adhere to structure, but at the same time have lost regard for it. I'll pay attention to the feet of a poem, and each stanza will have the same basic format... but I couldn't care less how else it holds together. I'll inject the soul back into it by breaking the rules a little. Not all the time, and not even in big ways. Little things, like a slant rhyme, rejuvenate in ways that couldn't be with a hard phonemic jab.
Other things change too, the definition of "genre" no longer means "comedy or sci-fi." It starts to take on more broad terms that don't really matter. Poetry is not a genre, it's a format. Nonfiction is not a genre, it's life. Even then, you're getting only half truths for what should be a complete roster.
Comic books and graphic novels - because they aren't the same, and it's not just the use of a buzz word - are "literary genres" too. So are screenplays. And raw notes. It's not limited to "fiction" and "memoir." It's all writing. Everything is art. Everything is beautiful, if you make it so. When you jam format in like steel rods you sacrifice the freely formed splendor that used to come from the writing.
Sure, it sometimes improves the intended impact in your reader. Sometimes it clarifies the point that was made. Sometimes you will want to format your work differently. This is not mandatory to make something worth reading. It is not mandatory to make anything at all.
Yes, I am a writer. I am not famous, nor am I published in any notable work just yet. College magazines and newspapers have put my words to page, and supposedly I'm in an anthology from a scam artist writing site from ten years ago. I'm cool with the realization that my work is - for the time being - insignificant. I only reach a small audience, and they mostly know me in person. I'm fine with that, as long as each of them take something away from this.
Literary greatness is overrated, even if that's what pays. I'll get there one day. I just don't mind waiting.
Time went on and I started learning the ways of "real" writers. You need to pay attention to things like alliteration and allegory, and make sure that your syllabic patterns aren't cliche, or it'll seem like you're plagiarizing. All sources are cited, and the MLA margins and font formatting are too perfect, there's no life left in the writing. Everything that made it raw and beautiful has been ripped from the skeleton leaving a bare, desolate structure with no substance. It isn't always this way, but by and large this is how it turns out.
Things have changed for me now. I try desperately to adhere to structure, but at the same time have lost regard for it. I'll pay attention to the feet of a poem, and each stanza will have the same basic format... but I couldn't care less how else it holds together. I'll inject the soul back into it by breaking the rules a little. Not all the time, and not even in big ways. Little things, like a slant rhyme, rejuvenate in ways that couldn't be with a hard phonemic jab.
Other things change too, the definition of "genre" no longer means "comedy or sci-fi." It starts to take on more broad terms that don't really matter. Poetry is not a genre, it's a format. Nonfiction is not a genre, it's life. Even then, you're getting only half truths for what should be a complete roster.
Comic books and graphic novels - because they aren't the same, and it's not just the use of a buzz word - are "literary genres" too. So are screenplays. And raw notes. It's not limited to "fiction" and "memoir." It's all writing. Everything is art. Everything is beautiful, if you make it so. When you jam format in like steel rods you sacrifice the freely formed splendor that used to come from the writing.
Sure, it sometimes improves the intended impact in your reader. Sometimes it clarifies the point that was made. Sometimes you will want to format your work differently. This is not mandatory to make something worth reading. It is not mandatory to make anything at all.
Yes, I am a writer. I am not famous, nor am I published in any notable work just yet. College magazines and newspapers have put my words to page, and supposedly I'm in an anthology from a scam artist writing site from ten years ago. I'm cool with the realization that my work is - for the time being - insignificant. I only reach a small audience, and they mostly know me in person. I'm fine with that, as long as each of them take something away from this.
Literary greatness is overrated, even if that's what pays. I'll get there one day. I just don't mind waiting.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
On Maturity.
It's funny how such a simple concept is so easily twisted and bastardized. Maturity shouldn't be difficult to grasp, but for whatever reason it slips away from many "mature" adults.
Maturity can be applied to many things. A boy is considered physically mature by the end of his teens. He will have grown in spurts, developed facial hair, and other things kick in. This doesn't mean that his mind matures at the same rate, or that he will emotionally ever mature.
The biggest misconception is that adults are mature. Maturity has nothing to do with age. It is not a miraculous sticker that gets put on your forehead that says you'll comprehend everything and be able to handle life. Legally, I've been an adult for six years. Most of my friends are considered adults at this point as well. Some recent things they've done include fighting over girls, holding grudges over (literally) nothing, playing with plastic knives, lighting themselves on fire, and the complete inability to cope with death. These are all different people - and with my social circle, a tiny percentage of the people I associate with - and each of them has space to grow in various ways. These people are also amazing musicians, intellectuals, humorists, and aspiring politicians. They're all adults, and all reasonably stable. Just immature.
Emotional maturity comes from understanding that there are things that are beyond your control that will sometimes hurt your feelings. The mature response is to deal with it, find something that helps sooth it, and get on with life. The juvenile response is to rage at the world and make hollow threats. No one can overcome all circumstances in life. It is not mature to be the "man's man," and punch things while ejaculating into their coffee. It doesn't matter if that's what you suspect Chuck Norris would do, it matters that you look like a 13 year old that just realized the girl you were crushing on doesn't like boys. Tough fucking shit.
A maturing mind is something vastly different from the other two common sorts, but it is linked to both. When I say that someone is mentally immature, I'm not saying they're handicapped/disabled/whatever other PC terms exist for "retarded" these days. Mental maturity comes from the practiced ability to handle situations that are much larger than human comprehension. Among these are astronomical numbers, death, birth, the question of God, and the realization that all that one does effects hundreds of thousands of people around them. It isn't something that happens suddenly, despite the concept of an epiphany. You will realize that everything dies - including you - at some point, but you will spend years trying to understand it. You will realize that God might not exist, but you won't comprehend the implications for the majority of your life. You will realize at some point that the creation of new life is something inherently god-like, but you won't ever fully understand the intricacies of it. Anyone that claims to is lying. Even doctors - who know the process inside and out (all that sex from med school) - will never fully understand the concept of when/if/how a soul is injected into a new being.
Maturity comes in many forms, but the form it should come in is exercised control and the knowledge of when self restraint is an option and when it should be thrown to the wind. Most of the time the wind gets too much. Hold on to some for yourself.
Errata: "Mature" should never be applied to television and music. "Mature" audiences just existed long enough to have been exposed to it previously. Same way that a kid shouldn't play most Mature games. They can't fucking comprehend what the implication of killing someone is, why desensitize them to it before they know what it is?
Maturity can be applied to many things. A boy is considered physically mature by the end of his teens. He will have grown in spurts, developed facial hair, and other things kick in. This doesn't mean that his mind matures at the same rate, or that he will emotionally ever mature.
The biggest misconception is that adults are mature. Maturity has nothing to do with age. It is not a miraculous sticker that gets put on your forehead that says you'll comprehend everything and be able to handle life. Legally, I've been an adult for six years. Most of my friends are considered adults at this point as well. Some recent things they've done include fighting over girls, holding grudges over (literally) nothing, playing with plastic knives, lighting themselves on fire, and the complete inability to cope with death. These are all different people - and with my social circle, a tiny percentage of the people I associate with - and each of them has space to grow in various ways. These people are also amazing musicians, intellectuals, humorists, and aspiring politicians. They're all adults, and all reasonably stable. Just immature.
Emotional maturity comes from understanding that there are things that are beyond your control that will sometimes hurt your feelings. The mature response is to deal with it, find something that helps sooth it, and get on with life. The juvenile response is to rage at the world and make hollow threats. No one can overcome all circumstances in life. It is not mature to be the "man's man," and punch things while ejaculating into their coffee. It doesn't matter if that's what you suspect Chuck Norris would do, it matters that you look like a 13 year old that just realized the girl you were crushing on doesn't like boys. Tough fucking shit.
A maturing mind is something vastly different from the other two common sorts, but it is linked to both. When I say that someone is mentally immature, I'm not saying they're handicapped/disabled/whatever other PC terms exist for "retarded" these days. Mental maturity comes from the practiced ability to handle situations that are much larger than human comprehension. Among these are astronomical numbers, death, birth, the question of God, and the realization that all that one does effects hundreds of thousands of people around them. It isn't something that happens suddenly, despite the concept of an epiphany. You will realize that everything dies - including you - at some point, but you will spend years trying to understand it. You will realize that God might not exist, but you won't comprehend the implications for the majority of your life. You will realize at some point that the creation of new life is something inherently god-like, but you won't ever fully understand the intricacies of it. Anyone that claims to is lying. Even doctors - who know the process inside and out (all that sex from med school) - will never fully understand the concept of when/if/how a soul is injected into a new being.
Maturity comes in many forms, but the form it should come in is exercised control and the knowledge of when self restraint is an option and when it should be thrown to the wind. Most of the time the wind gets too much. Hold on to some for yourself.
Errata: "Mature" should never be applied to television and music. "Mature" audiences just existed long enough to have been exposed to it previously. Same way that a kid shouldn't play most Mature games. They can't fucking comprehend what the implication of killing someone is, why desensitize them to it before they know what it is?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
I don't give a damn about a reputation.
All my life I've been taught to make everything you do worth having your name attached. This way, you will always be able to take pride in what you do, and others will know to expect quality work from you. While it isn't always possible to be proud of everything, I do take this approach to heart professionally.
I've got several jobs to help pay for college, and I take pride in my work for all of them. I've always had at least one job while in university, but at the moment I have (about) three. All involve customer service, and are specifically service jobs. I'm not servicing the customers (mostly illegal, outside of Las Vegas), but I am garnering the same satisfaction from them. Sometimes it's little things, like making sure they don't fall down a flight of stairs, or fixing the lounge chair they abuse until I need to repair it again. Sometimes it's making sure a building doesn't get lit on fire, or ensuring that the sound system for an event will not only work, but make my constituents sound as good as they think they do.
For every job I have and task I complete, I go out of my way to never half-ass it. I'm very distinct in my approach, appearance, and follow through. If I don't put full effort into my tasks, everyone notices. I'm at a disadvantage in this way; others will only do enough work to stay employed, never going beyond the basics of their duties. They do not fulfill the full responsibility, and little is expected of them. The standard to stay employed is significantly lower. In my case, since I've put my all into everything the entire time, an off day kills my reputation. That's something I can't abide by at this stage in life, I need to hold on to it on a professional level.
That's why I meet my deadlines, why my organizational skills see full use in the workplace, and why I don't fuck around on the job. My making you happy keeps my job safe. While a coworker might demolish your eardrums with a PA rig, I must keep it perfect. While a coworker might leave you to your own devices, I must make sure you have all the information you need to save your self from acting the fool. While a coworker might take a bribe to ignore regulations, I must recommend you put it away or donate it to a children's cancer society.
I don't live through my reputation, but my job does.
I've got several jobs to help pay for college, and I take pride in my work for all of them. I've always had at least one job while in university, but at the moment I have (about) three. All involve customer service, and are specifically service jobs. I'm not servicing the customers (mostly illegal, outside of Las Vegas), but I am garnering the same satisfaction from them. Sometimes it's little things, like making sure they don't fall down a flight of stairs, or fixing the lounge chair they abuse until I need to repair it again. Sometimes it's making sure a building doesn't get lit on fire, or ensuring that the sound system for an event will not only work, but make my constituents sound as good as they think they do.
For every job I have and task I complete, I go out of my way to never half-ass it. I'm very distinct in my approach, appearance, and follow through. If I don't put full effort into my tasks, everyone notices. I'm at a disadvantage in this way; others will only do enough work to stay employed, never going beyond the basics of their duties. They do not fulfill the full responsibility, and little is expected of them. The standard to stay employed is significantly lower. In my case, since I've put my all into everything the entire time, an off day kills my reputation. That's something I can't abide by at this stage in life, I need to hold on to it on a professional level.
That's why I meet my deadlines, why my organizational skills see full use in the workplace, and why I don't fuck around on the job. My making you happy keeps my job safe. While a coworker might demolish your eardrums with a PA rig, I must keep it perfect. While a coworker might leave you to your own devices, I must make sure you have all the information you need to save your self from acting the fool. While a coworker might take a bribe to ignore regulations, I must recommend you put it away or donate it to a children's cancer society.
I don't live through my reputation, but my job does.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Spring Breaking Walls
"The concept of a 'Spring Break' has always fascinated me, even if it's usually just an excuse for people to get drunk and take their clothes off. I've never celebrated in such a way, though taking my clothes off is always a good idea. I've opted almost universally to stay in the area for the break, with rare exceptions when I was younger to go upstate with my family. I hated those times."
I search offhandedly for my bag of gummy bears.
"Really, if I'm going to have a week and a half off from my classes and work, do you expect me to go do something I won't remember after? Or wake up with an infestation of crab-mites? Or find out that the person in the bed with me looks much less attractive and suddenly more manly than she did when I was drunk? There's no point to it."
Where the fuck are my gummy bears? I ignore it, and keep typing.
"If I wanted that kind of nonsense, I could do it on a weekend and have significantly less memory loss. How many college students do that on a daily basis anyway? If my university wasn't commuter based I imagine there'd be a higher drop-out rate and a much higher level of alcohol poisoning on campus. Why would I want to do that though?"
There they are! I bite the head off of a green squishy bear.
"Besides that, there's so many better things I could do. Gatherings with friends, construction projects (which are actually quite rewarding). Coheed and Cambria concerts that were sold out until this afternoon that you jumped on like the 'Tea Party' to Obama's Health Care bill, except your jumping was productive. These opportunities would be missed in Cancun, or wherever the hell the young and logically handicapped people go get herpes these days."
I smile, kill the last few bears, and my fingers come to a rest.
I search offhandedly for my bag of gummy bears.
"Really, if I'm going to have a week and a half off from my classes and work, do you expect me to go do something I won't remember after? Or wake up with an infestation of crab-mites? Or find out that the person in the bed with me looks much less attractive and suddenly more manly than she did when I was drunk? There's no point to it."
Where the fuck are my gummy bears? I ignore it, and keep typing.
"If I wanted that kind of nonsense, I could do it on a weekend and have significantly less memory loss. How many college students do that on a daily basis anyway? If my university wasn't commuter based I imagine there'd be a higher drop-out rate and a much higher level of alcohol poisoning on campus. Why would I want to do that though?"
There they are! I bite the head off of a green squishy bear.
"Besides that, there's so many better things I could do. Gatherings with friends, construction projects (which are actually quite rewarding). Coheed and Cambria concerts that were sold out until this afternoon that you jumped on like the 'Tea Party' to Obama's Health Care bill, except your jumping was productive. These opportunities would be missed in Cancun, or wherever the hell the young and logically handicapped people go get herpes these days."
I smile, kill the last few bears, and my fingers come to a rest.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
We all got left behind, we let it all slip away.
As promised, I now finish my discussion of disposable media.
Games
This was a difficult task at first, until I realized a few very important things. Not only is a Gamecube a small system (built for being brought as a party favor), but the games came on Minidisk. They're tiny, and easily deposited into a minidisk case. As such, none were left behind (I only own seven to begin with, making things easier). The Playstation 2 games were much more difficult. I left behind Final Fantasy X2, The Sims, Kingdom Hearts, and Unreal Tournament. I'm yet to pack PS1 games, but in the event I do, only King's Field, Martian Gothic, Dragonseeds, and ReBoot will be left behind. All NES games will stay (besides Punch Out!!, one of my favorite games of all time).
I'm not abandoning classics, not really. FFX2 was mostly a marketing experiment that shouldn't've ever seen the light of day. There were a lot of cool things in it, but the whole thing reeked of spin off. The game should've been marketed as a stand-alone, with a new world and new characters. It would've done better, and not tarnished the reputation of an otherwise very good game. Whatever people say about Final Fantasy X, I will defend it better than they will bash it. I can't do that for FFX2. The Sims is an art project. Chuck Klosterman said in Sex, Drugs and Cocoa-Puffs something to the effect of "people playing a game about watching their lives while they play games." I don't play games to get surreal, I play to get rid of realism when I can help it.
Kingdom Hearts is another great game, but I'm not so big on showing constant love for Squeenix. They've failed in the past (see FFX2, most FFVII spin-offs, and most early games), and they know it. Kingdom Hearts isn't a failure (though Chain of Memories was), but it isn't vital enough to my personality. I haven't played it in three years or more, and I don't feel I'm missing all that much. I know what happens now, the grinding wasn't all that great, and the novelty of playing with Disney characters wore off within a half hour of playing the game. There's nothing there for me now. Unrelated, Unreal Tournament was only good for the PC. Getting it for the PS2 was an impulse buy from the used bin. Still one of the only FPS' I will play (besides Portal and Metroid Prime Hunters), but this version is nothing worth holding onto.
The average reader won't know three of the four PS1 games mentioned, and this might not be a bad thing. They were all pretty kickass in theory, but execution killed them. King's Field is a first-person hack and slash that was actually too good for the PS1's engine to handle. I played it recently on an emulator (since my PS1 decided to commit ritual suicide) and the enhanced frame-rate made the game actually playable... but it didn't help. The game was overly difficult, too advanced for the system it was on, and generally moody. Martian Gothic is a generic horror/survival in a haunted house in space. Scared the bejezus out of me when I was a kid, but now it's just cheesy in a bad way.
Dragonseeds was a cool game with a fun premise. You bred test-tube baby dragons to fight against one another in tournaments. They were given weapons, and told to fight to the death against one another. There was no other gameplay besides breeding, fighting, and shopping. What made it awesome was the combat system (preprogrammed moves, trying to foresee the opponent's moves for two turns) and the "wild" dragon area. The game would read the data from your memory cards and generate a random dragon based on what game info you had there... from other games. It's like an own-able MGS moment.
ReBoot was a show in the 90's that took place inside a computer and was made in Canada. The show was amazing. The game came out towards the end of the show's lifetime. It's a piece of shit. The controls are terrible, the motion is difficult without any momentum breakers (you're on Bob's hover-board... he can't seem to walk at all, and you need to pull back to slow down and stop), and the targeting makes me want to hang Bob with my controller cable. The game should've been good, and if the player could walk/lock on, then it would've been. Instead it's unplayable, and only makes for a nice conversation piece.
"Oh writer, how could you abandon those NES games?! I thought you were a real gamer!" Oh dear reader, how narrow minded of you. The old NES games were mostly fun, and it's credited as the system that brought video games to the forefront of home entertainment... but that doesn't make them good. I love the original Mario/Duck Hunt, and Contra. And even Dragon Warrior. I played them all until my controller wore out, and then I went to the spare. I don't care that I'm leaving them behind anyway, because they've all been rendered obsolete. Super Mario Bros. has been done so many times after that it could only get better. Super Mario Bros 3 is far superior, and Super Mario World surpassed that too. Then others came out down the line that were equally awesome, but for systems I'm going to keep, like the DS. My NES is in pieces right now, and I don't own a light gun. Why should I hold on to things that literally are unplayable? Besides that, Ikari Warriors sucks.
Books
This was the hardest of them all, as my readers know. I love books, and in a way they become a measure of my progress as a thinking person. They aren't all/mostly intellectual, but they can't all come with me. It's unrealistic. So a small section of the stuff that was left behind includes most of Shakespeare's work, Pet Sematary, the Lord of the Rings books (including Hobbit), Something Wicked This Way Comes, the Harry Potter series, and most of my Calvin and Hobbes collections.
I don't mind leaving behind Shakespeare so much, he's public domain. I can look him up anywhere and print his work out for my leisure for free. I left behind Measure for Measure, The Tempest, a version of Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, All's Well that Ends Well, Much Ado About Nothing, Coriolanus, and Cymbelline. That said, I kept the other half of the Shakespeare I owned. At one point I was strongly considering becoming a literature major with a supreme concentration in Shakespeare's work. Then I realized it's silly, when he's been dead for centuries. I'd rather study things that are still alive and fresh, rather than trying to breathe fresh life into the dead. I don't love his work any less (though I know many can't stand him), but I don't think it matters that much to have every obscure play he's done. Coriolanus is a fine example of a steaming lump of yesterday's supper that The Bard emitted to pay his bills when he got old. It happens sometimes.
I don't like Stephen King's written work for the most part. He's a wonderful storyteller, and I respect him greatly, but his style of writing is too poppy for my taste. He can create a character's snapshot perfectly in three sentences (usually to kill them a page later), and his stories are beyond words. I just hate his stuff when it's written, and not filmed. Pet Sematary is one of three exceptions so far (the other two being Green Mile and On Writing, the later of which was kept). I loved this story, and the writing was passable because of the build. It's not that I'm a zombie buff, or that I love twisted takes on innocence being distorted. The characters grabbed me better than nearly any other pop-lit novel has, and the story came together perfectly. Why's it getting left behind? I've got somewhere around 400 books, and I can only afford the space for (maybe) 75 of them. This gets left behind in favor of something more vital.
Tolkien is another man I respect greatly, but not for his writing. Tolkien was an amazing linguist, and a man of great conviction to his faith. He's probably the most popular Christian author anyone is likely to read, and most people don't even realize it. I respect anyone who can mix their faith with their personal hobbies (the study of folklore and mythology was a major theme in his life, obviously) and make something enduring. Of all the things Tolkien was, he was NOT a writer. He created the Lord of the Rings series to give his languages a home. Elvish is a fully fleshed language, and LotR exists for it. Not the other way around. The stories have terrible pacing, the characters are mostly bland, and it offers little else besides beautiful shots of being lost in the woods. Just like a certain book later in this list thing. If I wanted to wander in the woods, I'd go do it in reality.
Ray Bradbury's brilliant, but Something Wicked... isn't one of my favorites from him. The evil carnival motif is cool at first, but the entire first quarter of the book is "OMINOUS OMINOUS AND DARK," without any plot development. Cool atmosphere, bad build. Fahrenheit 451 wins instead.
Harry Potter's a lot of fun after the first two children's books. The series really starts at the third novel, with extended backstory. I do like the series greatly, and perhaps if it wasn't so over-saturated in today's culture, I'd bring them with me. I don't really need to though, this shit's everywhere. A few years ago I couldn't look anywhere without seeing something relating to the boy that lived. As the series progressed it got darker, and the writing got more mature. By book 7, Rowlnig took a turn for the Tolkien, wasting half the book wandering in the woods. I actually stopped reading this book for a few weeks because I couldn't get out of the fucking woods. I began to suspect that Voldemort was hiding inside a goddamned tree. This series, while wonderful, is also largely unoriginal. Nearly all aspects - while used creatively - are drawn from most of the same sources Tolkien used. If I owned it in paperback and it wasn't so common, I might consider braving the extra weight. It isn't, so I won't bring it.
Calvin and Hobbes has a very special place in my heart, it was the first comic I really got attached to. Bill Watterson is one of my heroes, and when I was doing a comic strip column for Serpentine Magazine I referenced him frequently. He was my first exposure to many fantastic concepts that I wouldn't've cared about otherwise. He gave some of the best dialogue I've ever seen. He presented the option of imagination. In nearly every way, Watterson shaped me - in some part - into who I am now. As such, I own 10 of the collections. I only have the space for one or two. I still haven't decided which I will keep.
There are hundreds of other books left behind too, including things I got for class and novels I really enjoyed when I was younger. They're innocent victims of circumstance mostly, but circumstance is really all that matters. A man fishing is fine in most cases, unless he's catching endangered fish. Then he's become a felon. These aren't really all disposable, but they must all be disposed of.
Games
This was a difficult task at first, until I realized a few very important things. Not only is a Gamecube a small system (built for being brought as a party favor), but the games came on Minidisk. They're tiny, and easily deposited into a minidisk case. As such, none were left behind (I only own seven to begin with, making things easier). The Playstation 2 games were much more difficult. I left behind Final Fantasy X2, The Sims, Kingdom Hearts, and Unreal Tournament. I'm yet to pack PS1 games, but in the event I do, only King's Field, Martian Gothic, Dragonseeds, and ReBoot will be left behind. All NES games will stay (besides Punch Out!!, one of my favorite games of all time).
I'm not abandoning classics, not really. FFX2 was mostly a marketing experiment that shouldn't've ever seen the light of day. There were a lot of cool things in it, but the whole thing reeked of spin off. The game should've been marketed as a stand-alone, with a new world and new characters. It would've done better, and not tarnished the reputation of an otherwise very good game. Whatever people say about Final Fantasy X, I will defend it better than they will bash it. I can't do that for FFX2. The Sims is an art project. Chuck Klosterman said in Sex, Drugs and Cocoa-Puffs something to the effect of "people playing a game about watching their lives while they play games." I don't play games to get surreal, I play to get rid of realism when I can help it.
Kingdom Hearts is another great game, but I'm not so big on showing constant love for Squeenix. They've failed in the past (see FFX2, most FFVII spin-offs, and most early games), and they know it. Kingdom Hearts isn't a failure (though Chain of Memories was), but it isn't vital enough to my personality. I haven't played it in three years or more, and I don't feel I'm missing all that much. I know what happens now, the grinding wasn't all that great, and the novelty of playing with Disney characters wore off within a half hour of playing the game. There's nothing there for me now. Unrelated, Unreal Tournament was only good for the PC. Getting it for the PS2 was an impulse buy from the used bin. Still one of the only FPS' I will play (besides Portal and Metroid Prime Hunters), but this version is nothing worth holding onto.
The average reader won't know three of the four PS1 games mentioned, and this might not be a bad thing. They were all pretty kickass in theory, but execution killed them. King's Field is a first-person hack and slash that was actually too good for the PS1's engine to handle. I played it recently on an emulator (since my PS1 decided to commit ritual suicide) and the enhanced frame-rate made the game actually playable... but it didn't help. The game was overly difficult, too advanced for the system it was on, and generally moody. Martian Gothic is a generic horror/survival in a haunted house in space. Scared the bejezus out of me when I was a kid, but now it's just cheesy in a bad way.
Dragonseeds was a cool game with a fun premise. You bred test-tube baby dragons to fight against one another in tournaments. They were given weapons, and told to fight to the death against one another. There was no other gameplay besides breeding, fighting, and shopping. What made it awesome was the combat system (preprogrammed moves, trying to foresee the opponent's moves for two turns) and the "wild" dragon area. The game would read the data from your memory cards and generate a random dragon based on what game info you had there... from other games. It's like an own-able MGS moment.
ReBoot was a show in the 90's that took place inside a computer and was made in Canada. The show was amazing. The game came out towards the end of the show's lifetime. It's a piece of shit. The controls are terrible, the motion is difficult without any momentum breakers (you're on Bob's hover-board... he can't seem to walk at all, and you need to pull back to slow down and stop), and the targeting makes me want to hang Bob with my controller cable. The game should've been good, and if the player could walk/lock on, then it would've been. Instead it's unplayable, and only makes for a nice conversation piece.
"Oh writer, how could you abandon those NES games?! I thought you were a real gamer!" Oh dear reader, how narrow minded of you. The old NES games were mostly fun, and it's credited as the system that brought video games to the forefront of home entertainment... but that doesn't make them good. I love the original Mario/Duck Hunt, and Contra. And even Dragon Warrior. I played them all until my controller wore out, and then I went to the spare. I don't care that I'm leaving them behind anyway, because they've all been rendered obsolete. Super Mario Bros. has been done so many times after that it could only get better. Super Mario Bros 3 is far superior, and Super Mario World surpassed that too. Then others came out down the line that were equally awesome, but for systems I'm going to keep, like the DS. My NES is in pieces right now, and I don't own a light gun. Why should I hold on to things that literally are unplayable? Besides that, Ikari Warriors sucks.
Books
This was the hardest of them all, as my readers know. I love books, and in a way they become a measure of my progress as a thinking person. They aren't all/mostly intellectual, but they can't all come with me. It's unrealistic. So a small section of the stuff that was left behind includes most of Shakespeare's work, Pet Sematary, the Lord of the Rings books (including Hobbit), Something Wicked This Way Comes, the Harry Potter series, and most of my Calvin and Hobbes collections.
I don't mind leaving behind Shakespeare so much, he's public domain. I can look him up anywhere and print his work out for my leisure for free. I left behind Measure for Measure, The Tempest, a version of Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, All's Well that Ends Well, Much Ado About Nothing, Coriolanus, and Cymbelline. That said, I kept the other half of the Shakespeare I owned. At one point I was strongly considering becoming a literature major with a supreme concentration in Shakespeare's work. Then I realized it's silly, when he's been dead for centuries. I'd rather study things that are still alive and fresh, rather than trying to breathe fresh life into the dead. I don't love his work any less (though I know many can't stand him), but I don't think it matters that much to have every obscure play he's done. Coriolanus is a fine example of a steaming lump of yesterday's supper that The Bard emitted to pay his bills when he got old. It happens sometimes.
I don't like Stephen King's written work for the most part. He's a wonderful storyteller, and I respect him greatly, but his style of writing is too poppy for my taste. He can create a character's snapshot perfectly in three sentences (usually to kill them a page later), and his stories are beyond words. I just hate his stuff when it's written, and not filmed. Pet Sematary is one of three exceptions so far (the other two being Green Mile and On Writing, the later of which was kept). I loved this story, and the writing was passable because of the build. It's not that I'm a zombie buff, or that I love twisted takes on innocence being distorted. The characters grabbed me better than nearly any other pop-lit novel has, and the story came together perfectly. Why's it getting left behind? I've got somewhere around 400 books, and I can only afford the space for (maybe) 75 of them. This gets left behind in favor of something more vital.
Tolkien is another man I respect greatly, but not for his writing. Tolkien was an amazing linguist, and a man of great conviction to his faith. He's probably the most popular Christian author anyone is likely to read, and most people don't even realize it. I respect anyone who can mix their faith with their personal hobbies (the study of folklore and mythology was a major theme in his life, obviously) and make something enduring. Of all the things Tolkien was, he was NOT a writer. He created the Lord of the Rings series to give his languages a home. Elvish is a fully fleshed language, and LotR exists for it. Not the other way around. The stories have terrible pacing, the characters are mostly bland, and it offers little else besides beautiful shots of being lost in the woods. Just like a certain book later in this list thing. If I wanted to wander in the woods, I'd go do it in reality.
Ray Bradbury's brilliant, but Something Wicked... isn't one of my favorites from him. The evil carnival motif is cool at first, but the entire first quarter of the book is "OMINOUS OMINOUS AND DARK," without any plot development. Cool atmosphere, bad build. Fahrenheit 451 wins instead.
Harry Potter's a lot of fun after the first two children's books. The series really starts at the third novel, with extended backstory. I do like the series greatly, and perhaps if it wasn't so over-saturated in today's culture, I'd bring them with me. I don't really need to though, this shit's everywhere. A few years ago I couldn't look anywhere without seeing something relating to the boy that lived. As the series progressed it got darker, and the writing got more mature. By book 7, Rowlnig took a turn for the Tolkien, wasting half the book wandering in the woods. I actually stopped reading this book for a few weeks because I couldn't get out of the fucking woods. I began to suspect that Voldemort was hiding inside a goddamned tree. This series, while wonderful, is also largely unoriginal. Nearly all aspects - while used creatively - are drawn from most of the same sources Tolkien used. If I owned it in paperback and it wasn't so common, I might consider braving the extra weight. It isn't, so I won't bring it.
Calvin and Hobbes has a very special place in my heart, it was the first comic I really got attached to. Bill Watterson is one of my heroes, and when I was doing a comic strip column for Serpentine Magazine I referenced him frequently. He was my first exposure to many fantastic concepts that I wouldn't've cared about otherwise. He gave some of the best dialogue I've ever seen. He presented the option of imagination. In nearly every way, Watterson shaped me - in some part - into who I am now. As such, I own 10 of the collections. I only have the space for one or two. I still haven't decided which I will keep.
There are hundreds of other books left behind too, including things I got for class and novels I really enjoyed when I was younger. They're innocent victims of circumstance mostly, but circumstance is really all that matters. A man fishing is fine in most cases, unless he's catching endangered fish. Then he's become a felon. These aren't really all disposable, but they must all be disposed of.
Monday, March 22, 2010
On Religion.
I know it's a half hour late. Sorry.
I'm a deist by choice, but its' a choice I came to through logic. I was originally born and baptized Lutheran, but my mother and her husband decided it was much more fashionable to convert me to Catholicism when I was in second grade. They didn't think it was fair that I should feel left out while all the other kids made their first communion. Time went on, I was confirmed in seventh grade. This is about the time I stopped believing.
There were a lot of things that drove me away from Catholicism (and really all Christianity), but the biggest was the realization that a priest has amnesty from the law in the name of God, with the backing of The Church. The Capital-C has the power to keep their folks out of jail, regardless of what laws they break and which sins they confess to one another. Not all clergy are guilty of the grandiose atrocities that Capital-C is getting well known for, but the ones that are there aren't being punished for what they've done. Just like when a cop goes corrupt, they don't usually get reprimanded for it unless it's against another cop. If a priest sodomizes another priest, I'd imagine they'd get punished. Altar boys though? Who gives a shit? For the record, I was never an altar boy, nor was I ever raped. It's not that personal. I just hate rapists of any/all sort.
Further issues with Capital-C arose when I noticed that it was essentially doing the same thing that many government officials attempt, in collecting money from the folks that don't have any to subsist. I probably wouldn't mind so much if the community was funded entirely from the well to do, but we're not all rich. My family isn't, I sure as hell am not. If a buck is all I could afford to toss into the green bucket, that's about all that I could afford. I shouldn't get dirty looks for the absence of it.
Capital-C really pushed me off edge when we were being taught sex-ed in my grade school. The private school didn't really say very much about sex except that you shouldn't do it until you're married. Then they showed us a head-on video of a woman giving birth, to ensure all boners were killed. They didn't talk about condoms, or STDs, or much of anything else. The teachers didn't know that a decent chunk of their class was already playing with the beginnings of it, even if no one'd bumped uglies yet. I was too much of a wholesome nerd to do any of it yet, but I knew so many that were. Funny how the double standards bite you in the balls.
In high school I decided to be an atheist, but only because I didn't know what other options there were. I studied as many others as I could - looked into Buddhism, Judaism, various nature faiths - but nothing really made sense to me. All the doctrine was essentially the same, even if the zeal fluctuated between them. I pulled the word "agnostic" out of Donnie Darko, really liking the gray area between blind faith and cognitive thought. I kept this claim well into the start of college.
After two years of college, I decided that some sort of cosmic power had to exist. I didn't decide because of some stellar event, or because I watched a baby get born (a second time), or because I prayed at random and it came true. Prayers only come true if you fight for them, just like wishes.
I knew people who were overseas fighting for our right to oil, and some had actually died. I knew people who were raped, and couldn't get vengeance for them. I knew people who were psychologically abused to the point where they'd do anything on behalf of their mental captors, Stockholm syndrome taking root. My brother was born with a rare heart defect, the same one that killed my uncle as an infant. Family members have floated in and out of rehab and alcoholics anonymous, and I've heard stories so unflattering about my fore bearers that I was nearly ashamed to claim membership in my family house. Yet despite all of these things, flowers still grow. Babies are still born, children are still innocent and beautiful in their natural curiosity. People still find love, and grow old together. Music capable of pulling people back from suicide is written, and people still take solace in knowing that they are never alone.
While the world is bleak, there is still beauty in it. While we all suffer, there is still something to redeem us and bring reason to life.
I can't believe it's a coincidence, regardless of whatever else I'm capable of believing. I don't feel that any human should have the right to control others with brainwashing in the name of faith. I'm not going to hell because I had a bacon-cheeseburger on Friday in lent with some shellfish on the side. I'm not going to burn for eternity because I support same sex marriage, or because I believe that all people should have the ability to have an abortion, whether they exercise it or not.
I'm a deist because of you.
I'm a deist by choice, but its' a choice I came to through logic. I was originally born and baptized Lutheran, but my mother and her husband decided it was much more fashionable to convert me to Catholicism when I was in second grade. They didn't think it was fair that I should feel left out while all the other kids made their first communion. Time went on, I was confirmed in seventh grade. This is about the time I stopped believing.
There were a lot of things that drove me away from Catholicism (and really all Christianity), but the biggest was the realization that a priest has amnesty from the law in the name of God, with the backing of The Church. The Capital-C has the power to keep their folks out of jail, regardless of what laws they break and which sins they confess to one another. Not all clergy are guilty of the grandiose atrocities that Capital-C is getting well known for, but the ones that are there aren't being punished for what they've done. Just like when a cop goes corrupt, they don't usually get reprimanded for it unless it's against another cop. If a priest sodomizes another priest, I'd imagine they'd get punished. Altar boys though? Who gives a shit? For the record, I was never an altar boy, nor was I ever raped. It's not that personal. I just hate rapists of any/all sort.
Further issues with Capital-C arose when I noticed that it was essentially doing the same thing that many government officials attempt, in collecting money from the folks that don't have any to subsist. I probably wouldn't mind so much if the community was funded entirely from the well to do, but we're not all rich. My family isn't, I sure as hell am not. If a buck is all I could afford to toss into the green bucket, that's about all that I could afford. I shouldn't get dirty looks for the absence of it.
Capital-C really pushed me off edge when we were being taught sex-ed in my grade school. The private school didn't really say very much about sex except that you shouldn't do it until you're married. Then they showed us a head-on video of a woman giving birth, to ensure all boners were killed. They didn't talk about condoms, or STDs, or much of anything else. The teachers didn't know that a decent chunk of their class was already playing with the beginnings of it, even if no one'd bumped uglies yet. I was too much of a wholesome nerd to do any of it yet, but I knew so many that were. Funny how the double standards bite you in the balls.
In high school I decided to be an atheist, but only because I didn't know what other options there were. I studied as many others as I could - looked into Buddhism, Judaism, various nature faiths - but nothing really made sense to me. All the doctrine was essentially the same, even if the zeal fluctuated between them. I pulled the word "agnostic" out of Donnie Darko, really liking the gray area between blind faith and cognitive thought. I kept this claim well into the start of college.
After two years of college, I decided that some sort of cosmic power had to exist. I didn't decide because of some stellar event, or because I watched a baby get born (a second time), or because I prayed at random and it came true. Prayers only come true if you fight for them, just like wishes.
I knew people who were overseas fighting for our right to oil, and some had actually died. I knew people who were raped, and couldn't get vengeance for them. I knew people who were psychologically abused to the point where they'd do anything on behalf of their mental captors, Stockholm syndrome taking root. My brother was born with a rare heart defect, the same one that killed my uncle as an infant. Family members have floated in and out of rehab and alcoholics anonymous, and I've heard stories so unflattering about my fore bearers that I was nearly ashamed to claim membership in my family house. Yet despite all of these things, flowers still grow. Babies are still born, children are still innocent and beautiful in their natural curiosity. People still find love, and grow old together. Music capable of pulling people back from suicide is written, and people still take solace in knowing that they are never alone.
While the world is bleak, there is still beauty in it. While we all suffer, there is still something to redeem us and bring reason to life.
I can't believe it's a coincidence, regardless of whatever else I'm capable of believing. I don't feel that any human should have the right to control others with brainwashing in the name of faith. I'm not going to hell because I had a bacon-cheeseburger on Friday in lent with some shellfish on the side. I'm not going to burn for eternity because I support same sex marriage, or because I believe that all people should have the ability to have an abortion, whether they exercise it or not.
I'm a deist because of you.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Anger equates to an empty cup.
Part of being successful in life is choosing the appropriate responses to everyday events.
Earlier I was with some friends to see Alice in Wonderland. Before the movie started, the woman sitting next to me spilled a liter of fruit punch all over my lap. I had some options to consider, but rather than punching her in the face, getting upset, or demanding anything, I calmly removed all electronics from that side of my body, stood up, and went to the bathroom. She apologized profusely, and I'm told that while I was gone she continued and feared that I'd be angry with her.
I had every right to be upset, but I wasn't. It was an accident. It sucks that it happened, but if I'd raged at her it wouldn't've dried my pants. I was uncomfortable for a decent chunk of the movie, my pants are stained slightly red across the right side, and I was sticky after. This isn't worth getting angry over, because it wasn't her intent. With the prices that the local movie theater charges, it wouldn't be anyone's intent to waste a full cup of liquid. That's more than five dollars worth of drink, now undrinkable.
Conversely, I do get annoyed when people are short with me. Especially once they say "whatever." To me, a "whatever" translates to "I'd tell you to fuck yourself, but I don't really care enough to put the effort out." It's one of the bigger signs of disrespect towards me. In this case, I still pushed the olive branch out after the "whatever," and was greeted with short half answers. I don't mind that people can be moody sometimes, or that someone's entitled to say and do what they want. However, when it stems from something that I've already tried helping with (literally) dozens of times, I don't appreciate being snubbed.
When possible, conflicts like this should be avoided. They're silly, and do not amount to any productive sum. They aren't always possible to avoid (especially when they stem from selfishness being passed off as abandonment), but in all other cases they should be steered around like a moose on the freeway. You will not win should you collide. The moose will possibly walk away to stand in the road, blocking other cars down the line, but you will be totaled.
Don't get angry over silly things, but also avoid the moose. It's a trap.
Earlier I was with some friends to see Alice in Wonderland. Before the movie started, the woman sitting next to me spilled a liter of fruit punch all over my lap. I had some options to consider, but rather than punching her in the face, getting upset, or demanding anything, I calmly removed all electronics from that side of my body, stood up, and went to the bathroom. She apologized profusely, and I'm told that while I was gone she continued and feared that I'd be angry with her.
I had every right to be upset, but I wasn't. It was an accident. It sucks that it happened, but if I'd raged at her it wouldn't've dried my pants. I was uncomfortable for a decent chunk of the movie, my pants are stained slightly red across the right side, and I was sticky after. This isn't worth getting angry over, because it wasn't her intent. With the prices that the local movie theater charges, it wouldn't be anyone's intent to waste a full cup of liquid. That's more than five dollars worth of drink, now undrinkable.
Conversely, I do get annoyed when people are short with me. Especially once they say "whatever." To me, a "whatever" translates to "I'd tell you to fuck yourself, but I don't really care enough to put the effort out." It's one of the bigger signs of disrespect towards me. In this case, I still pushed the olive branch out after the "whatever," and was greeted with short half answers. I don't mind that people can be moody sometimes, or that someone's entitled to say and do what they want. However, when it stems from something that I've already tried helping with (literally) dozens of times, I don't appreciate being snubbed.
When possible, conflicts like this should be avoided. They're silly, and do not amount to any productive sum. They aren't always possible to avoid (especially when they stem from selfishness being passed off as abandonment), but in all other cases they should be steered around like a moose on the freeway. You will not win should you collide. The moose will possibly walk away to stand in the road, blocking other cars down the line, but you will be totaled.
Don't get angry over silly things, but also avoid the moose. It's a trap.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Can't Fight the Future
“People they come together, people they fall apart. No one can stop us now. ‘Cause we are all made of stars.” - Moby
College has a funny way of taking you away from the things and people you love. Sometimes you're still present for them, but ultimately you're somewhere else mentally, and everyone notices. You don't realize it until much later, but by the time you're finished with your Associates, Bachelors, Masters, or Doctorate depending on personal preference, you are transfigured into a new person independent of who you were when you started.
In high school I used to love to tell stories in my writing, drawing fiction from reality in Star Wars storytelling forums online. I built fantasies around characters loosely based around who I was then. They were facets of the things I liked, aspired to be, and avoided ever becoming. I wrote about an evil mastermind that could shape-shift, but eventually realized he had a soul and shifted away from the Dark Side of the Force. I wrote about a survivalist in a post-apocalyptic environment, after God and Satan have both killed each other off, leaving Earth, Heaven, and Hell behind. I wrote short stories about romancing extra terrestrials as satire.
Now I write nonfiction. It's still wet and thick with detail when I can help it, but nonfiction only leaves so much room for fun. I've stretched out instants that take no more than three seconds in real time to a three page psychological odyssey, in which a mouse click becomes the most difficult thing in the world. I've painted vivid images of college arcades, capturing snippets of tournament gamers by their details to give an accurate account of their personalities. I've delved into the nature of things, described delusions and daydreams with more clarity than reality often brings, and earned readers' sympathies for characters that should have none for their actions.
I never used to write poetry, yet now the structure of verse seems almost comforting in a way.
None of this seems important to you now, and it really shouldn't. People change as they grow older, that's a side effect of existence. College is a catalyst, not an origin. The ways my writing has changed reflect the ways my own personality has changed. I'm not the same person I was last year, or the year before, or five years before that. I like who I am and what I've become, even if I don't like everything about it. I can look back at those years now and draw from them. The experiences, the sights, the people - they're all back story now. A proper base to build the character on for future developments and plot twists.
We're all works of fiction in our own ways, but acknowledging it at least gives ground for the plot. I don't know for certain when the back story stopped and my plot began. I don't know if I'm simply drawn from a writer's mind like my Sith Master was, or if I'm a blur of detail in an overarching piece. I don't know if I'm just trying to survive after God and Satan dueled to mutual demise. Maybe I'm a rhyming couplet at the end of a sonnet.
I do know for certain, however, that right now I like where the story is going. I like the narrative arc, and (assuming that I am the protagonist of the story) my antagonists are not without sympathetic traits. My characters are developed and complex, and I love them all. I'm proud of how my story's coming along.
We should all be proud of our stories.
College has a funny way of taking you away from the things and people you love. Sometimes you're still present for them, but ultimately you're somewhere else mentally, and everyone notices. You don't realize it until much later, but by the time you're finished with your Associates, Bachelors, Masters, or Doctorate depending on personal preference, you are transfigured into a new person independent of who you were when you started.
In high school I used to love to tell stories in my writing, drawing fiction from reality in Star Wars storytelling forums online. I built fantasies around characters loosely based around who I was then. They were facets of the things I liked, aspired to be, and avoided ever becoming. I wrote about an evil mastermind that could shape-shift, but eventually realized he had a soul and shifted away from the Dark Side of the Force. I wrote about a survivalist in a post-apocalyptic environment, after God and Satan have both killed each other off, leaving Earth, Heaven, and Hell behind. I wrote short stories about romancing extra terrestrials as satire.
Now I write nonfiction. It's still wet and thick with detail when I can help it, but nonfiction only leaves so much room for fun. I've stretched out instants that take no more than three seconds in real time to a three page psychological odyssey, in which a mouse click becomes the most difficult thing in the world. I've painted vivid images of college arcades, capturing snippets of tournament gamers by their details to give an accurate account of their personalities. I've delved into the nature of things, described delusions and daydreams with more clarity than reality often brings, and earned readers' sympathies for characters that should have none for their actions.
I never used to write poetry, yet now the structure of verse seems almost comforting in a way.
None of this seems important to you now, and it really shouldn't. People change as they grow older, that's a side effect of existence. College is a catalyst, not an origin. The ways my writing has changed reflect the ways my own personality has changed. I'm not the same person I was last year, or the year before, or five years before that. I like who I am and what I've become, even if I don't like everything about it. I can look back at those years now and draw from them. The experiences, the sights, the people - they're all back story now. A proper base to build the character on for future developments and plot twists.
We're all works of fiction in our own ways, but acknowledging it at least gives ground for the plot. I don't know for certain when the back story stopped and my plot began. I don't know if I'm simply drawn from a writer's mind like my Sith Master was, or if I'm a blur of detail in an overarching piece. I don't know if I'm just trying to survive after God and Satan dueled to mutual demise. Maybe I'm a rhyming couplet at the end of a sonnet.
I do know for certain, however, that right now I like where the story is going. I like the narrative arc, and (assuming that I am the protagonist of the story) my antagonists are not without sympathetic traits. My characters are developed and complex, and I love them all. I'm proud of how my story's coming along.
We should all be proud of our stories.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
On Motivation.
There are a number of things that can motivate someone into any action. Most folks would like to think they’re being selfless, and especially to be praised as such. Most of the time the motives are much less charitable.
Some people have it engraved into their minds from a young age that in helping others, you are a good person. This is very, very common. The reason seems harmless enough, and the result is usually positive for all parties. This is not selfless, the individual is still acting to be perceived as a good person. They want to come out on top without an issue. I don’t really mind these people much, they’ve really done nothing wrong.
Some people have more blatantly self-centered drives, and act only for themselves. This is also exceptionally common, though more often overlooked in the United States. If someone would help another person, it is only so that the helped may return the favor when the helper needs it. This is the backbone of many relationships, families, and even most organized religion. In some cases, these are still good people, only preservationists.
Some people are kind to others because they don’t want others to suffer. This is much less common, but perhaps the most questionable rationale. It could be perceived as selfless for the sake of ending suffering without an immediate reaction, but some would say the desire not to be surrounded by suffering is still ultimately self-serving when it’s boiled down. Obviously I dig these reasons, even if it sometimes conflicts with others.
Another group believes strictly in the relative abstracts of justice and law. These people aren’t really wrong in their thinking and actions, they’re just blinded in their anal retentive adhesion to something that might not always apply. I’m not saying to embrace beldam, but in various situations it can be in poor taste. An old man jaywalks to get to his bus on time, and a cop disciplines him for it the same as he would a young person playing chicken with an SUV. Besides the cop being an asshole, he’s enforcing the law to an absolute without any gray areas. This doesn’t make him wrong, but it does show that his convictions are stronger towards the system of organization than they are to human decency.
There is another category of people too, I call them “Confused Blenders.” They’re the most common sort of people, motivation-wise. Usually they have mixed motives, and lie about which is more dominant. If an action would help one individual, but hurt others that you don’t like, it is doubly serving. That individual can receive both praise for helping someone, and take sick satisfaction in knowing they’ve harmed others and come out the victor. This example is not for all, it can be a blend of any of the other types. Someone who believes in the law for the sake of removing suffering is just as conflicting as someone who believes in the law and acts out of selfish motives, as also to someone that wants praise while remaining empathetic. They all conflict.
Also, just because someone has a general type they will adhere to, it does not mean that they will not have actions that break these barriers and fall into others as well. A cop that would let off a shoplifter that’s stealing food to feed his children is breaking their own conviction to reduce human suffering. It’s entirely relative, and situational.
I’m sure there are others that I’ve overlooked as well. Remind me if I have. And try not to be selfish (unrelated thoughts, just in case you were confused).
Some people have it engraved into their minds from a young age that in helping others, you are a good person. This is very, very common. The reason seems harmless enough, and the result is usually positive for all parties. This is not selfless, the individual is still acting to be perceived as a good person. They want to come out on top without an issue. I don’t really mind these people much, they’ve really done nothing wrong.
Some people have more blatantly self-centered drives, and act only for themselves. This is also exceptionally common, though more often overlooked in the United States. If someone would help another person, it is only so that the helped may return the favor when the helper needs it. This is the backbone of many relationships, families, and even most organized religion. In some cases, these are still good people, only preservationists.
Some people are kind to others because they don’t want others to suffer. This is much less common, but perhaps the most questionable rationale. It could be perceived as selfless for the sake of ending suffering without an immediate reaction, but some would say the desire not to be surrounded by suffering is still ultimately self-serving when it’s boiled down. Obviously I dig these reasons, even if it sometimes conflicts with others.
Another group believes strictly in the relative abstracts of justice and law. These people aren’t really wrong in their thinking and actions, they’re just blinded in their anal retentive adhesion to something that might not always apply. I’m not saying to embrace beldam, but in various situations it can be in poor taste. An old man jaywalks to get to his bus on time, and a cop disciplines him for it the same as he would a young person playing chicken with an SUV. Besides the cop being an asshole, he’s enforcing the law to an absolute without any gray areas. This doesn’t make him wrong, but it does show that his convictions are stronger towards the system of organization than they are to human decency.
There is another category of people too, I call them “Confused Blenders.” They’re the most common sort of people, motivation-wise. Usually they have mixed motives, and lie about which is more dominant. If an action would help one individual, but hurt others that you don’t like, it is doubly serving. That individual can receive both praise for helping someone, and take sick satisfaction in knowing they’ve harmed others and come out the victor. This example is not for all, it can be a blend of any of the other types. Someone who believes in the law for the sake of removing suffering is just as conflicting as someone who believes in the law and acts out of selfish motives, as also to someone that wants praise while remaining empathetic. They all conflict.
Also, just because someone has a general type they will adhere to, it does not mean that they will not have actions that break these barriers and fall into others as well. A cop that would let off a shoplifter that’s stealing food to feed his children is breaking their own conviction to reduce human suffering. It’s entirely relative, and situational.
I’m sure there are others that I’ve overlooked as well. Remind me if I have. And try not to be selfish (unrelated thoughts, just in case you were confused).
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Is there no world for tomorrow?
Vinyl is underrated in contemporary society. If it weren't, then I would not have been able to get Coheed and Cambria's No World for Tomorrow for less than $10. I'm not complaining that it was so cheap, but I do wonder how long I can pull things like this off for. The prices will either go up due to rarity, or the product will just cease to be. I hate that.
The analog and the hard copies of music will never fully die, as I've discussed previously, but that doesn't mean that all mediums will retain value long enough to exist. Just like how tech savvy families across the world have had to convert home movies to DVD from the original cassette, it's nearly time for people to convert their CDs entirely to MP3 and FLAC formats and drop them on DVDs. Some already have.
For this reason, I'm very strongly considering buying a turntable of my own. Vinyl albums and 45's only exist because of the insane popularity of DJs, perhaps more now because of DJ Hero. I know they're safe for a while longer, until a proper digital analog (such a silly expression) can fully replicate what a turntable and a nice beat can do. Most DJs don't even really scratch as much anymore, most just sample, loop, and program swatches ahead of time these days. I'd give it another ten years or so, with a decline until the end.
Right now I'd be using a turntable in the house, though not my own. It's likely that I'll get more vinyl down the line beyond what I've already got, and I don't foresee myself ever giving up something with so much inherent beauty. Even if I resort to vintage shops and thrift stores alone, I don't think I'm ready to let this wonderful medium die.
Besides all this, Travis' and Claudio's guitars scream for an older time without dating themselves. Why shouldn't they sound their best?
The analog and the hard copies of music will never fully die, as I've discussed previously, but that doesn't mean that all mediums will retain value long enough to exist. Just like how tech savvy families across the world have had to convert home movies to DVD from the original cassette, it's nearly time for people to convert their CDs entirely to MP3 and FLAC formats and drop them on DVDs. Some already have.
For this reason, I'm very strongly considering buying a turntable of my own. Vinyl albums and 45's only exist because of the insane popularity of DJs, perhaps more now because of DJ Hero. I know they're safe for a while longer, until a proper digital analog (such a silly expression) can fully replicate what a turntable and a nice beat can do. Most DJs don't even really scratch as much anymore, most just sample, loop, and program swatches ahead of time these days. I'd give it another ten years or so, with a decline until the end.
Right now I'd be using a turntable in the house, though not my own. It's likely that I'll get more vinyl down the line beyond what I've already got, and I don't foresee myself ever giving up something with so much inherent beauty. Even if I resort to vintage shops and thrift stores alone, I don't think I'm ready to let this wonderful medium die.
Besides all this, Travis' and Claudio's guitars scream for an older time without dating themselves. Why shouldn't they sound their best?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
On Love.
DICTIONARY DEFINITION.
love
/lʌv/ [luhv] noun, verb, loved, lov⋅ing.
–noun
1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7. sexual intercourse; copulation.
8. (initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9. affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10. strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11. the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12. the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13. Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14. a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.
The dictionary's partially correct, but sadly misses almost everything that matters about love.
ATTEMPT IN BRIEF.
A friend of mine asked me how she'd know when she was in love, and I told her she'd know. I foolishly tried to explain love, and fell flat on my face. How can I possibly expect to explain love when no one in the world can properly? There are literally millions of poems, movies, stories, and songs about it. Fuck, The Beatles built an entire career on it. All they needed was love.
Love isn't really an emotion, not a singular one anyway. Someone said that love was essentially controlled madness. Can't remember who (maybe I'm making them up and it's something of mine. Who knows.) This is partially true. When in love one will find themselves willing to do a number of things they never would when in sound mind. When in love, people are more willing to do things both astounding and frightening.
Love is a hybrid of every emotion humans can feel, I believe. Everyone sings and writes about the happiness, contentment, and trust associated with love. That's dandy. Some write about the pain and humiliation associated with it. Swell. Few ever remember that with love comes a degree of concession. One will find themselves willing to give up things they adore in daily life to make the prospect of love work. Maybe that's why it works so well with relationships.
Love comes with a degree of lust usually, though it is not required. It serves mostly as garnish for a main course with significantly less tangible substance. It's common to say that you want to "make love to" someone, but really you're probably just having sex with them. Making love is something very different, even though the mechanics of it are essentially the same. The difference is on a psychological level (and obviously emotional), in the fact that you feel a connection with someone beyond what you could just feel bumping uglies.
Love is anger and pain, love is happiness and contentment. Love is unconditional trust and conditional (but voluntary) freedom.
POLYAMOROSITY.
All that said, I feel that all people are capable of loving one another on a genuine level, especially people we don't normally even like on a day to day basis. Love is a little like scent in this way, it is unique to all people. This means that all people are not only capable but actually expected to love more than one person at any given time. Not all are romantic loves (I love my best friends as much as my girlfriend, but I'm not looking to move in and sleep next to most of them for the rest of my life), but at any time we all love many people.
In this way, we are all polyamorous, even if we are monogamous. I have a small theory that monoamorous people are actually usually insane and become either stalkers or shut-ins.
LOVE IS NOT OBSESSION.
This header is half a lie. Obsession is sometimes tied to love, but obsession alone is not love. Many people get caught up with the concept of one person as everything they love (possibly something about the way attraction works), even though this is not love either. Having the compulsion to follow people online, in person, or anywhere else without them wanting you to/knowing you do is not healthy, nor is it love, nor is it legal. If you have trouble with this, please get professional help.
On the same note, one can feel a "deeper connection" physically without being in love or making love. All they need is to have an obsession with the other person to the point where they develop dependency. Dependency (or codependency, more importantly) is not love. It is a personal issue.
CONCLUSIONS.
I'm failing at describing love. Shit.
Love is something beyond words, even though I just wasted a few hundred trying to do so. It just is.
love
/lʌv/ [luhv] noun, verb, loved, lov⋅ing.
–noun
1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7. sexual intercourse; copulation.
8. (initial capital letter) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9. affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10. strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11. the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12. the benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13. Chiefly Tennis. a score of zero; nothing.
14. a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.
The dictionary's partially correct, but sadly misses almost everything that matters about love.
ATTEMPT IN BRIEF.
A friend of mine asked me how she'd know when she was in love, and I told her she'd know. I foolishly tried to explain love, and fell flat on my face. How can I possibly expect to explain love when no one in the world can properly? There are literally millions of poems, movies, stories, and songs about it. Fuck, The Beatles built an entire career on it. All they needed was love.
Love isn't really an emotion, not a singular one anyway. Someone said that love was essentially controlled madness. Can't remember who (maybe I'm making them up and it's something of mine. Who knows.) This is partially true. When in love one will find themselves willing to do a number of things they never would when in sound mind. When in love, people are more willing to do things both astounding and frightening.
Love is a hybrid of every emotion humans can feel, I believe. Everyone sings and writes about the happiness, contentment, and trust associated with love. That's dandy. Some write about the pain and humiliation associated with it. Swell. Few ever remember that with love comes a degree of concession. One will find themselves willing to give up things they adore in daily life to make the prospect of love work. Maybe that's why it works so well with relationships.
Love comes with a degree of lust usually, though it is not required. It serves mostly as garnish for a main course with significantly less tangible substance. It's common to say that you want to "make love to" someone, but really you're probably just having sex with them. Making love is something very different, even though the mechanics of it are essentially the same. The difference is on a psychological level (and obviously emotional), in the fact that you feel a connection with someone beyond what you could just feel bumping uglies.
Love is anger and pain, love is happiness and contentment. Love is unconditional trust and conditional (but voluntary) freedom.
POLYAMOROSITY.
All that said, I feel that all people are capable of loving one another on a genuine level, especially people we don't normally even like on a day to day basis. Love is a little like scent in this way, it is unique to all people. This means that all people are not only capable but actually expected to love more than one person at any given time. Not all are romantic loves (I love my best friends as much as my girlfriend, but I'm not looking to move in and sleep next to most of them for the rest of my life), but at any time we all love many people.
In this way, we are all polyamorous, even if we are monogamous. I have a small theory that monoamorous people are actually usually insane and become either stalkers or shut-ins.
LOVE IS NOT OBSESSION.
This header is half a lie. Obsession is sometimes tied to love, but obsession alone is not love. Many people get caught up with the concept of one person as everything they love (possibly something about the way attraction works), even though this is not love either. Having the compulsion to follow people online, in person, or anywhere else without them wanting you to/knowing you do is not healthy, nor is it love, nor is it legal. If you have trouble with this, please get professional help.
On the same note, one can feel a "deeper connection" physically without being in love or making love. All they need is to have an obsession with the other person to the point where they develop dependency. Dependency (or codependency, more importantly) is not love. It is a personal issue.
CONCLUSIONS.
I'm failing at describing love. Shit.
Love is something beyond words, even though I just wasted a few hundred trying to do so. It just is.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
On Relationships.
I've received some feedback recently about my Nature of Attraction post, and was asked about the nature of love and relationships. I will not talk about the nature of love, outside of it as a necessity in a healthy relationship. Love is too fucking complicated to really describe in my own verbal capacity as of yet. Maybe after this weekend.
Relationships, however, are well within my ability.
A healthy relationship is more than just liking someone enough to bring them around in public and have sex with them. It's more than having someone to be comfortable around, or to write sappy songs about and regret two years later. A healthy relationship is built on trust, honesty, love, compromise, and commonality.
Trust and honesty are obviously linked, but not the same. Trust is something that must be earned in most situations in life. Without trust, a relationship can never actually happen. In this case, trust is conferred usually after a trigger event in the early stages of the "courtship phase," which is the time of exceptional stupidity between two people interested in one another.
Honesty is the way you keep trust. This doesn't always mean not lying when you go out drinking with your friends, or admitting when you forgot an important date (Note: admission does not earn forgiveness.) It also means showing genuine character without masking the things about yourself that you don't like. If you're hoping to share your life with this person, they're going to have to know how you are. Otherwise, you are not only doomed to fail in the relationship, but not even retain the (now) former lover as a friend. If you liked them enough to consider being with them in the first place, you probably still want to be friends. So don't be a dick.
Love's complicated. It alone is also not enough to save a relationship. Sometimes love alone can lead people to do many crazy and stupid things, but it should not be the only reason you're with someone. As love is also too big to put into words, it is also too big to always be there at the start of a relationship. It should grow into it. If anyone says straight away that they love you, they're probably lying to nail you or bat-shit crazy with abandonment issues. The most important thing to take away is that love is a definite must, but not too early on.
A lot of people say "love is give and take." Most of these people also live in Clicheville, and couldn't form an original thought if you threatened to torch their houses. Unfortunately, this one is situationally correct. There must be a degree of compromise between a couple, but not about the grand things that people imagine. Sometimes it's as limited as giving people time to themselves to gather their thoughts and de-stress. People that make jokes about developing a timeshare for who gets to drive the minivan are usually too pussy-whipped to really understand that they've lost all they really had for themselves. The same is said about people that refuse to leave the house whenever a show is on, even when their lover got tickets to a concert for that night. Neither example is really compromise or absence of it in a meaningful way, both are examples of a couple that will probably fight often.
Commonality is one of the most important, underrated traits a relationship must have. If you have nothing in common with your lover, then you probably saw a way to work your libido and love came by way of repetition. This can also change as a relationship goes on. When you started dating you both liked football, birdwatching, and painting. As time went on, your lover stopped liking painting, you stopped liking birdwatching, and neither of you liked football after watching your favorite team lose at the Superbowl... four years in a row. You both feel comfortable with the relationship, knowing that it is still better than you feel you could ever land otherwise. So you never split up, even though you fight all the time. This issue can be fixed relatively easily, even though it's one of the biggest reasons why couples fail. Find something you're both interested in again, and try to find out why you both grew away from the things you liked in the first place. Most couples can be saved in this way, even if they don't realize it. In essence it means relearning your lover's personality, but it's a small setback compared to ending the relationship and going on a drinking binge until you're broke and covered in your own vomit.
So the final recap:
DO Trust.
DO NOT Lie.
DO Love.
DO Compromise.
DO NOT Let comfort blind you.
If you do these things, your relationship should be much more healthy than others would be. It works best when applied to long term relationships, but it seems to be a good general set of rules on its own.
Relationships, however, are well within my ability.
A healthy relationship is more than just liking someone enough to bring them around in public and have sex with them. It's more than having someone to be comfortable around, or to write sappy songs about and regret two years later. A healthy relationship is built on trust, honesty, love, compromise, and commonality.
Trust and honesty are obviously linked, but not the same. Trust is something that must be earned in most situations in life. Without trust, a relationship can never actually happen. In this case, trust is conferred usually after a trigger event in the early stages of the "courtship phase," which is the time of exceptional stupidity between two people interested in one another.
Honesty is the way you keep trust. This doesn't always mean not lying when you go out drinking with your friends, or admitting when you forgot an important date (Note: admission does not earn forgiveness.) It also means showing genuine character without masking the things about yourself that you don't like. If you're hoping to share your life with this person, they're going to have to know how you are. Otherwise, you are not only doomed to fail in the relationship, but not even retain the (now) former lover as a friend. If you liked them enough to consider being with them in the first place, you probably still want to be friends. So don't be a dick.
Love's complicated. It alone is also not enough to save a relationship. Sometimes love alone can lead people to do many crazy and stupid things, but it should not be the only reason you're with someone. As love is also too big to put into words, it is also too big to always be there at the start of a relationship. It should grow into it. If anyone says straight away that they love you, they're probably lying to nail you or bat-shit crazy with abandonment issues. The most important thing to take away is that love is a definite must, but not too early on.
A lot of people say "love is give and take." Most of these people also live in Clicheville, and couldn't form an original thought if you threatened to torch their houses. Unfortunately, this one is situationally correct. There must be a degree of compromise between a couple, but not about the grand things that people imagine. Sometimes it's as limited as giving people time to themselves to gather their thoughts and de-stress. People that make jokes about developing a timeshare for who gets to drive the minivan are usually too pussy-whipped to really understand that they've lost all they really had for themselves. The same is said about people that refuse to leave the house whenever a show is on, even when their lover got tickets to a concert for that night. Neither example is really compromise or absence of it in a meaningful way, both are examples of a couple that will probably fight often.
Commonality is one of the most important, underrated traits a relationship must have. If you have nothing in common with your lover, then you probably saw a way to work your libido and love came by way of repetition. This can also change as a relationship goes on. When you started dating you both liked football, birdwatching, and painting. As time went on, your lover stopped liking painting, you stopped liking birdwatching, and neither of you liked football after watching your favorite team lose at the Superbowl... four years in a row. You both feel comfortable with the relationship, knowing that it is still better than you feel you could ever land otherwise. So you never split up, even though you fight all the time. This issue can be fixed relatively easily, even though it's one of the biggest reasons why couples fail. Find something you're both interested in again, and try to find out why you both grew away from the things you liked in the first place. Most couples can be saved in this way, even if they don't realize it. In essence it means relearning your lover's personality, but it's a small setback compared to ending the relationship and going on a drinking binge until you're broke and covered in your own vomit.
So the final recap:
DO Trust.
DO NOT Lie.
DO Love.
DO Compromise.
DO NOT Let comfort blind you.
If you do these things, your relationship should be much more healthy than others would be. It works best when applied to long term relationships, but it seems to be a good general set of rules on its own.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
May a Bookworm Strike Your References!
I do not consider myself an academic, despite my love for learning. I go out of my way to learn anything I can, mostly through study and observation in real life situations. If I want to learn about bugs, I'll go out and watch some. If I want to learn about music, I'll listen and write a bit of it. If I want to study language, I will listen, read, learn ones I am unfamiliar with, and see what patterns and assertions I can produce from it.
I do not consider myself an academic because I focus much more on the field studies than I ever could cross-referencing in books. I believe I should have little interest in what other people have learned in their research until after I perform my own. This is easier for me since I do not generally study dangerous topics. If I were mixing chemicals or studying the territorial habits of hyenas, it would be another situation all together.
While both of those things are awesome, I don't think they'd help me with what I do. I write about everything I see in some way. The disputes of hyenas matter little compared to the way that humans settle disputes. Intellectual debates, politics, and feuds for emotional embrace are resolved quite differently between the species I'd imagine. I couldn't care less how hyenas do it.
I don't consider myself an academic because there are bad habits associated with academia, like quoting and referencing people that are assumed to have been read by anyone else. Especially when used a linchpin for an argument, a conversation should never boil down to "See figure 1." When talking to someone not in the field you discuss, it is like referencing a list of prices for printer ink in 1998 without having the list handy. No one knows what's going on, and 'facts' can be made up at will. Not to say that fabrication of the truth is a common occurrence, or even one to be associated with academia, but parallels can be drawn.
The real problem I have with academia is the attitude associated with it. The professional, clinical, non-biased approach is the way to go with many things, and I dig that. I hate the usual undercurrents of self righteousness and demeaning insults. They are not there for all academic figures, but in many cases they spring up whenever a differing opinion is brought to light with whomever you are talking to. I don't mind admitting defeat when I'm defeated, but I'll be damned if someone will point at a book with a smug, shit eating grin and try to claim victory when they did not earn it. Anyone can read books, given that they've the ability to process written word into the proper morphemes in the mind-brain. Anyone can squirrel themselves away in a library and claim knowledge beyond comprehension.
There's more to an intellectual debate than referencing people that have done it better than you did. This is why I hate academia.
I do not consider myself an academic because I focus much more on the field studies than I ever could cross-referencing in books. I believe I should have little interest in what other people have learned in their research until after I perform my own. This is easier for me since I do not generally study dangerous topics. If I were mixing chemicals or studying the territorial habits of hyenas, it would be another situation all together.
While both of those things are awesome, I don't think they'd help me with what I do. I write about everything I see in some way. The disputes of hyenas matter little compared to the way that humans settle disputes. Intellectual debates, politics, and feuds for emotional embrace are resolved quite differently between the species I'd imagine. I couldn't care less how hyenas do it.
I don't consider myself an academic because there are bad habits associated with academia, like quoting and referencing people that are assumed to have been read by anyone else. Especially when used a linchpin for an argument, a conversation should never boil down to "See figure 1." When talking to someone not in the field you discuss, it is like referencing a list of prices for printer ink in 1998 without having the list handy. No one knows what's going on, and 'facts' can be made up at will. Not to say that fabrication of the truth is a common occurrence, or even one to be associated with academia, but parallels can be drawn.
The real problem I have with academia is the attitude associated with it. The professional, clinical, non-biased approach is the way to go with many things, and I dig that. I hate the usual undercurrents of self righteousness and demeaning insults. They are not there for all academic figures, but in many cases they spring up whenever a differing opinion is brought to light with whomever you are talking to. I don't mind admitting defeat when I'm defeated, but I'll be damned if someone will point at a book with a smug, shit eating grin and try to claim victory when they did not earn it. Anyone can read books, given that they've the ability to process written word into the proper morphemes in the mind-brain. Anyone can squirrel themselves away in a library and claim knowledge beyond comprehension.
There's more to an intellectual debate than referencing people that have done it better than you did. This is why I hate academia.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
I've assembled 97 cars! All of them fictional!
Beyond showing off one's personal effects, I'm often amused by an overexertion of intelligence and experience as well when two people compete for the same mate.
To keep the automotive trend, the girl in question is actually very knowledgeable about cars. She's taken apart several engines in the past on her own, and was raised around mechanics. She knows the inside of an automobile better than most people know the embarrassing birthmarks they have on the inner thigh.
Guy A tries to court her with flagrant language, attempting to romanticize the way that a piston moves. He makes himself out to seem so much more involved than he actually is, regardless of how much of his life he spends in his workshop. He tries to emphasize it too heavily, and ultimately fails. This example often happens when guys talk about their penises, often alienating women before they even have a chance to find out they were lied to.
Guy B however makes no claims about his experience with cars that are not true. He has the ability to do much with one, but seldom has the opportunity. He's more of a tinkerer, but when he talks about what he's done, he does not lie about it.
Nine times out of ten, Guy B will end up being that close male friend that never becomes more, despite being better suited for the female in question. On the rare occasion that he does become her love interest, it's usually after Guy A has already mind-fucked them into a lack of trust for all guys. By this time, the lady is assuming that all males are just out to "pump-and-dump," and Guy B has huge amounts of trouble showing their genuine, noble intent. By this time Guy A has had such an impact that should they ever split up, Guy B's reputation will be dragged through the mud, while Guy A is already hard at work on the next victim.
This doesn't have to be the way the world works, but most of the time it is. In the case when A and B are both mooning over the girl in question, B must use slightly more emotional force to show they're serious. Being the nice guy all the time is a recipe for doom, since most people seem to want someone that will bring equal parts comfort and conflict.
The trick is to make sure that you're being told the truth, in its entirety.
To keep the automotive trend, the girl in question is actually very knowledgeable about cars. She's taken apart several engines in the past on her own, and was raised around mechanics. She knows the inside of an automobile better than most people know the embarrassing birthmarks they have on the inner thigh.
Guy A tries to court her with flagrant language, attempting to romanticize the way that a piston moves. He makes himself out to seem so much more involved than he actually is, regardless of how much of his life he spends in his workshop. He tries to emphasize it too heavily, and ultimately fails. This example often happens when guys talk about their penises, often alienating women before they even have a chance to find out they were lied to.
Guy B however makes no claims about his experience with cars that are not true. He has the ability to do much with one, but seldom has the opportunity. He's more of a tinkerer, but when he talks about what he's done, he does not lie about it.
Nine times out of ten, Guy B will end up being that close male friend that never becomes more, despite being better suited for the female in question. On the rare occasion that he does become her love interest, it's usually after Guy A has already mind-fucked them into a lack of trust for all guys. By this time, the lady is assuming that all males are just out to "pump-and-dump," and Guy B has huge amounts of trouble showing their genuine, noble intent. By this time Guy A has had such an impact that should they ever split up, Guy B's reputation will be dragged through the mud, while Guy A is already hard at work on the next victim.
This doesn't have to be the way the world works, but most of the time it is. In the case when A and B are both mooning over the girl in question, B must use slightly more emotional force to show they're serious. Being the nice guy all the time is a recipe for doom, since most people seem to want someone that will bring equal parts comfort and conflict.
The trick is to make sure that you're being told the truth, in its entirety.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Look at my new toy! Love me!
Please ignore the time stamp, it's really Thursday night still.
I'm amused whenever I see guys going for the same girl, and vice versa. It's impossible not to play favorites, sometimes painful when they make obvious blunders, but always entertaining for an onlooker. This isn't because we take pleasure in your misery (while this might be a contributing factor in many cases), or because we see something beautiful in the human condition that we can best identify with through aspirations that are doomed to fail. We are entertained because when people are initially smitten they do the funniest things.
When someone has sense about them they know better than to try to impress others with their toys rather than their personality, like a small child bringing out their newest doll to show off to a guest. No one cares what kind of car you drive, how powerful your computer is, how many moths you have in your bug collection, or how you acquired that shrunken head collection. Actually, that last one's a lie. That's a very interesting aspect for other unrelated reasons.
If you're trying to get someone to notice you and maybe like you, you're much better off showing them the sort of person you are. That means more than just showing off your stuff, it means letting them understand why your stuff matters to you and is worth showing. A kid with daddy's Mustang might grab attention faster than the kid who worked for his Neon, but the kid that worked for his car just showed that he's capable of doing things for himself without needing to suck the parents' teats until they get married. Things like this matter more. The Mustang might go faster and look prettier, but at the end of the day it means nothing.
There are many other examples that amuse me, but the trumping of items over personality is truly the most entertaining. The folks in question aren't children, not legally at least. To see them vie like toddlers is hysterical on a level beyond perceptible humor.
I'll come back to this topic tomorrow night, it's worth breaking schedule for when I'm more awake.
I'm amused whenever I see guys going for the same girl, and vice versa. It's impossible not to play favorites, sometimes painful when they make obvious blunders, but always entertaining for an onlooker. This isn't because we take pleasure in your misery (while this might be a contributing factor in many cases), or because we see something beautiful in the human condition that we can best identify with through aspirations that are doomed to fail. We are entertained because when people are initially smitten they do the funniest things.
When someone has sense about them they know better than to try to impress others with their toys rather than their personality, like a small child bringing out their newest doll to show off to a guest. No one cares what kind of car you drive, how powerful your computer is, how many moths you have in your bug collection, or how you acquired that shrunken head collection. Actually, that last one's a lie. That's a very interesting aspect for other unrelated reasons.
If you're trying to get someone to notice you and maybe like you, you're much better off showing them the sort of person you are. That means more than just showing off your stuff, it means letting them understand why your stuff matters to you and is worth showing. A kid with daddy's Mustang might grab attention faster than the kid who worked for his Neon, but the kid that worked for his car just showed that he's capable of doing things for himself without needing to suck the parents' teats until they get married. Things like this matter more. The Mustang might go faster and look prettier, but at the end of the day it means nothing.
There are many other examples that amuse me, but the trumping of items over personality is truly the most entertaining. The folks in question aren't children, not legally at least. To see them vie like toddlers is hysterical on a level beyond perceptible humor.
I'll come back to this topic tomorrow night, it's worth breaking schedule for when I'm more awake.
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