"And the work which has become a genre unto itself shall be called: Cowboy Bebop"-Cowboy Bebop
This weekend...this weekend was relaxing to say the least. I know some of my friends reading this would hate me for saying that because they are constantly busy. I'm sorry. I have nothing to say. Sometimes grad school is busy and sometimes its like this, though I do think my week will be fairly occupied. I have presentations, things to work on and plan. Anyways, I spent this weekend rewatching a series that I had brought with me from home: Cowboy Bebop. It's an anime--and before you laugh, listen: If there was ever a show that I wanted somebody to watch it would be this. Over anything, any show. I know that sounds ludicrous to some, and I guess it sounds ludicrous to me a bit, too, because there are amazing shows like Mad Men, Luther, Sherlock, Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, House, The Office, Seinfeld, Scrubs, Frasier, ..I could go on and on. But there is something about the feel Cowboy Bebop emits, a pulling in my gut. Laugh all you want. But don't knock it until you watch it.
For those that don't know what it's about here is the lowdown (to paraphrase wikipedia a bit): Set in a futuristic sci-fi world, in the year 2071, the show follows a crew of bounty hunters and their adventures aboard their starship, the Bebop. It beautifully blends the concept of the old west with the future space odyssey of travel with hyperspace gates, habitation of new planets--specifically Mars, which where the main population lives now--and old school jazz and blues. Sound like Firefly? Yeah... Cowboy Bebop was made in 1998. Firefly didn't come around until 2002, I believe. I always wondered if Joss Whedon was influenced by this show, even Orson Scott Card (writer of Ender's Game) made a comment about how similar they are in a recent interview. Doesn't matter. Both are amazing shows, and both are unique in their own merit. But you know in America--and I think this goes for mainly anywhere, but--we don't give enough credit to foreign creations, especially japanese creations. Okay wait, Final fantasy is a huge hit here and that's a Japanese Role-Playing Series, but still... not many people really delve into much more. I know I don't. And I want to, trying to expand my horizons with anything. Netflix helps. You can catch a lot of stuff you've never heard of on there.
Anyways, yes, Cowboy Bebop. I won't describe the rest of the plot. In some rare instance that you want to watch it, its on late on adult swim if you have cable, usually every night, I think.... It's not on Netflix.
Sigh...okay what am I really trying to accomplish within this blog post? I guess it's me dealing with the feelings the show evoked. I can't even describe how good it is. It is widely considered the greatest anime of all time, though that's up for debate, and its soundtrack is also considered to be a landmark masterpiece, voted number 1 as well. Let's just say it isn't like other animes. It is highly influenced by blues/rock/jazz--people like Bob Dylan, Clint Eastwood movies like Dirty Harry, bands like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. There are significant elements of existentialism within this work. And a persistent theme that life is but a dream and when we die we awaken. It's gritty. It's violent. It's emotional. And comical.
I think I know what bothers me so much about it, what is forcing me to make a post about it: I wish I would have written it. It's the first show ever that made me want to pick up and write something down immediately after I watched the ending. It's only 26 episodes, though most Japanese Animes are... I think... lol. It had that strong of an effect on me. I was parched for more of it. I said to myself, 'There is no way that's it. No way!'
Wrong.
Since it aired in America, which I believe was 2001, people have been dying to see more, and the director, Shiniciro Watanabe, initially denied that he would ever consider a continuation, and then over the years he slowly hinted at it in interviews, at conferences. Why? Because people won't leave him alone about it. It's a masterpiece. I mean people are still wanting more, and it's been over 14 years since it originally aired. Personally...I think he knew the ending from the moment he wrote the first episode, but as a writer I'm learning something: great stories, great characters--especially for a writer--are hard to let go. And it truly isn't the fans he's battling with. I think he's battling with himself. No, I've never met the man directly or know anything about him, but the way he references to the characters, to the possibility of seeing more Bebop, is the way a recovering alcoholic resists the bottle. He wants to, badly, but he's holding himself back. Once again--why? Because the ending was absolutely amazing; he doesn't want to ruin it. However, if I had to guess, in the fourteen year hiatus he's had from the show, I guarantee he's already written another 26 sessions in his head or somewhere just itching to put it down, to let producers hear it.
It's 2013 and apparently there is news that Shiniciro will be working with the music composers and producers of legendary show once more, hinting all the while that a new series is on the horizon with elements of a space action sci-fi comedy. Do I want more of this show? Yes, absolutely. Do I think it may be related to Cowboy Bebop? Yes, absolutely. Am I scared it will ruin everything? Yes, absolutely. But at this point I don't care. There is so much left he could do with it, so much. Some would completely disagree, saying that the series should stay as it is, but I don't know. I just really don't know...
I guess all I have to say is watch it and decide for yourself. Oh, and try not to love it. Seriously.
--Matt
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Old Friends and Rooms
Dr. Gregory House: "They're out there, doctors, lawyers, postal workers, some of them doing
great, some of them doing lousy. Are you going to base your whole life on
who you got stuck in a room with?"
Eve: "I'm going to base this moment on who I'm stuck in a room with. It's what life is. It's a series of rooms and who we get stuck in those rooms with adds up to what our lives are."
What a beautiful bit of writing--literal yet metaphysical at the same time. It has always been one of my favorite quotes from House. Let me provide some context: This quote comes from the episode "One day, one room." Normally, House has a patient who has an illness or disease no other doctor can figure out and it's up to him and his team to find the diagnosis--the Sherlock Holmes of medicine. But this episode takes a different turn: Eve, a patient who comes to the hospital, has just been raped. And she wants House to talk to her, to be her doctor, and to come to terms with what happened. House, who has his own demons, can't understand why she would want to talk to him, of all people.
I ponder over this quote from time to time and wonder why I like it so much. I guess if I go with the literal interpretation, it seems I've been stuck in pretty many rooms with some pretty great people--and some pretty awful people. No, I'm serious. I've been in the same room with rapists and murderers, bombers and thieves, and it isn't a comfortable feeling. But never mind the bad. I want to focus on the good.
I've been pretty down lately, and I don't know why. I guess this place has gotten to me. Small towns are wonderful in their own right, but there are drawbacks. I don't do much: I study (well, not really). I work out (kind of...lol). I read. I write. I see friends. I spend my days in my head, thinking of what to put down in my new novel, wondering if the one I've submitted will even make it past the first cut. Oh, and I have been watching Frasier like there is no tomorrow. It's not glamorous, and as my mom has said many times, this is a transition period in my life--it won't last. And here I said I was focusing on the good...come on, Matt. Get it together.
I do have a point, I promise. The other day I did something for myself that was quite powerful. Most psychologists are familiar with The "Empty Chair" technique in psychotherapy. Born from a Gestalt point of view, the client talks to an empty chair, envisioning the person with which they have an emotional conflict or problem with. This allows the client to come to some self-awareness about their own feelings towards that person, object, thing, place, whatever, in a safe environment. Yes, it doesn't have to be people. It can be objects or events such as death or divorce, parts of your own personality, fears, whatever. The goal is to have a deep, interactive conversation. You get up, switch seats, switch points of view, and carry the conversation, slowly working towards the inner conflict that seems to be bothering you.
I tried it. And in the other chair was myself. I wanted to discover the root of my problem; I wanted to know what had gotten me so down. As I started, I soon realized I was in a grieving process. I missed many things; I longed for a life that I didn't, no, couldn't have here. And do you know what it was? I missed Valparaiso. I missed what I call home. I missed sitting in the Christopher center watching the Valporainsnow fall through the colossal square windows. I missed Grinders. Northsides (yes, and their damn cheese fries), Martinis, the professors, King Gyros, Lab with Dr. Scupham, Cell Biology, Organic Chemistry, you name it. Hell, I even missed VUPD to an extent--and that's just messed up. But do you know the worst of it? I missed spending time in those rooms with my closest friends, doing things with my closest friends. I missed the long talks with good friends, missed Jimmy Johns runs. I missed playing Gears of War, Halo, and FIFA with those guys. I missed bonding with them. And shit, I even missed getting mad at them (though I don't know if they would say the same to me. I was an idiot then, sorry guys). Oh and George--I even miss the Cell Biology Lab Exam from Pa Pa scups. That was the worst test of my life. Ever.
It was a blast.
I have a different connection now with the people here--and that isn't a bad thing, because of course, at some point, we all have to move on and go forward, but I don't think what I was/am experiencing is necessarily a return to the past, but rather, a movement forward to where I find something just as meaningful. People tend to spend too much time recreating the past and I'm not about to. I miss those guys--that experience--every day, but I'm not kidding myself: they are moving forward, and so am I. We still talk, but they, I think, are trying to do just what I'm trying to do: Find what we had while still moving forward. It's not easy....
So yes, rooms. That is what life is--a god damn series of rooms. And I thank God every day I happen to get stuck into a room with them more times than I can remember. Oh, don't worry, boys: I'll be visiting and there is always another trip like Vegas--oh and weddings, but you and I both know it can't be the same...and I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.
Rooms. It makes you think about the future doesn't it? Who are you gonna get stuck in a room with next? It could be anybody. It could be that someone special. It could be your own mother, which I haven't decided yet if that is a good or a bad thing. It could be Ted Bundy--ha, kidding, but seriously...watch out for that shit. I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I'd like to be in a room with those guys again someday, and maybe more than just one time, or a few times.
So here's to old friends and rooms. Miss ya fellas.
Cheers,
--Matt
Eve: "I'm going to base this moment on who I'm stuck in a room with. It's what life is. It's a series of rooms and who we get stuck in those rooms with adds up to what our lives are."
What a beautiful bit of writing--literal yet metaphysical at the same time. It has always been one of my favorite quotes from House. Let me provide some context: This quote comes from the episode "One day, one room." Normally, House has a patient who has an illness or disease no other doctor can figure out and it's up to him and his team to find the diagnosis--the Sherlock Holmes of medicine. But this episode takes a different turn: Eve, a patient who comes to the hospital, has just been raped. And she wants House to talk to her, to be her doctor, and to come to terms with what happened. House, who has his own demons, can't understand why she would want to talk to him, of all people.
I ponder over this quote from time to time and wonder why I like it so much. I guess if I go with the literal interpretation, it seems I've been stuck in pretty many rooms with some pretty great people--and some pretty awful people. No, I'm serious. I've been in the same room with rapists and murderers, bombers and thieves, and it isn't a comfortable feeling. But never mind the bad. I want to focus on the good.
I've been pretty down lately, and I don't know why. I guess this place has gotten to me. Small towns are wonderful in their own right, but there are drawbacks. I don't do much: I study (well, not really). I work out (kind of...lol). I read. I write. I see friends. I spend my days in my head, thinking of what to put down in my new novel, wondering if the one I've submitted will even make it past the first cut. Oh, and I have been watching Frasier like there is no tomorrow. It's not glamorous, and as my mom has said many times, this is a transition period in my life--it won't last. And here I said I was focusing on the good...come on, Matt. Get it together.
I do have a point, I promise. The other day I did something for myself that was quite powerful. Most psychologists are familiar with The "Empty Chair" technique in psychotherapy. Born from a Gestalt point of view, the client talks to an empty chair, envisioning the person with which they have an emotional conflict or problem with. This allows the client to come to some self-awareness about their own feelings towards that person, object, thing, place, whatever, in a safe environment. Yes, it doesn't have to be people. It can be objects or events such as death or divorce, parts of your own personality, fears, whatever. The goal is to have a deep, interactive conversation. You get up, switch seats, switch points of view, and carry the conversation, slowly working towards the inner conflict that seems to be bothering you.
I tried it. And in the other chair was myself. I wanted to discover the root of my problem; I wanted to know what had gotten me so down. As I started, I soon realized I was in a grieving process. I missed many things; I longed for a life that I didn't, no, couldn't have here. And do you know what it was? I missed Valparaiso. I missed what I call home. I missed sitting in the Christopher center watching the Valporainsnow fall through the colossal square windows. I missed Grinders. Northsides (yes, and their damn cheese fries), Martinis, the professors, King Gyros, Lab with Dr. Scupham, Cell Biology, Organic Chemistry, you name it. Hell, I even missed VUPD to an extent--and that's just messed up. But do you know the worst of it? I missed spending time in those rooms with my closest friends, doing things with my closest friends. I missed the long talks with good friends, missed Jimmy Johns runs. I missed playing Gears of War, Halo, and FIFA with those guys. I missed bonding with them. And shit, I even missed getting mad at them (though I don't know if they would say the same to me. I was an idiot then, sorry guys). Oh and George--I even miss the Cell Biology Lab Exam from Pa Pa scups. That was the worst test of my life. Ever.
It was a blast.
I have a different connection now with the people here--and that isn't a bad thing, because of course, at some point, we all have to move on and go forward, but I don't think what I was/am experiencing is necessarily a return to the past, but rather, a movement forward to where I find something just as meaningful. People tend to spend too much time recreating the past and I'm not about to. I miss those guys--that experience--every day, but I'm not kidding myself: they are moving forward, and so am I. We still talk, but they, I think, are trying to do just what I'm trying to do: Find what we had while still moving forward. It's not easy....
So yes, rooms. That is what life is--a god damn series of rooms. And I thank God every day I happen to get stuck into a room with them more times than I can remember. Oh, don't worry, boys: I'll be visiting and there is always another trip like Vegas--oh and weddings, but you and I both know it can't be the same...and I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.
Rooms. It makes you think about the future doesn't it? Who are you gonna get stuck in a room with next? It could be anybody. It could be that someone special. It could be your own mother, which I haven't decided yet if that is a good or a bad thing. It could be Ted Bundy--ha, kidding, but seriously...watch out for that shit. I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I'd like to be in a room with those guys again someday, and maybe more than just one time, or a few times.
So here's to old friends and rooms. Miss ya fellas.
Cheers,
--Matt
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Choice: Why did I write about this?
"There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes
afterwards, when you ask "why me?" and "what if?". When you look back
and see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or forked lightning. If
you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be
someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions."-Max Payne (Sam Lake, writer).
As psychologists--clinical psychologists in particular--we hold to one premise: people can change; behaviors, thoughts, feelings--all of it--can be altered, if only a little, to better help the client. To be honest, I've never fully believed that people could change, or rather, I believe that the statement "people can change" isn't enough: people can change, yes, but it is very, very, VERY difficult. It takes a lot. Many individuals are rewriting years and years and years of patterns and behaviors when they enter therapy. This isn't easy. Here is an interesting side note: Don't quote me on this (and if someone is reading this that does know the specifics please correct me), but if I remember correctly, research has demonstrated that nearly 50% of a client's improvement can be attributed to other things besides therapy and the therapeutic relationship/modality; this includes changes in lifestyle, a new job, new girlfriend/boyfriend, etc.
Anyways, I thought about that and then this quote came to mind (the one above). Don't laugh. Yes, Max Payne is a video game, but the writer is prolific. The movie sucked, I know. Mark Wahlberg can act, but he couldn't get into the character, couldn't pull off the gritty, noir, silent fury of a man that Max Payne is--and the story for the movie was crap. I'm digressing again. Here's the point: Max Payne is about a man who comes home one day to find his wife and baby girl murdered. You play as him while shooting down bad guys and doing all sorts of crazy action sequences, but the most memorable parts come in between those scenes. The story comes in the form of a comic strip, where Max narrates to the player about what he's thinking/feeling and the reader is shown, well, comic strips of his life. This quote comes in the second game at a point in which Max comes to this realization that this is how it was always going to turn out, this is how his story would end. In a sense, "we are who we are" comes to mind. Once he was set down the path of vengeance (cheesy metaphor)--that is, the murdering of his wife and daughter--there was nothing to stop this particular outcome.
It's an interesting notion, the idea of fate I mean. If I were to do an armchair analysis of Max, it would go something like this: Max believed in joy, free will, in things that were just, but that changed (irony, I know). There are no coincidences in his world; there is no such thing as cruel chaos. The murder of his wife and his child were necessary, and the choices to follow made by Max were really not choices at all. This was who he was, what he had to do. But I am missing part of the point he tried to make with that quote aren't I? People believe in the illusion of free will, of choice, but Max has a point when he says "if you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions."Our choices make us who we are, or does who we are determine our choices? I don't know. It's not a question that is truly answerable. But it is something Max isn't afraid to face head on. In his life, he knew that his story was always going to end the way it did.
But that's his story--not yours or anyone else's. What do I believe? I don't know. I believe we always have a choice, that we are acting agents in our lives, that we can change; for some those choices make a hell of a difference where someone ends up, but for others... not so much. We are who we are. Personally, I think the capacity for truly choosing, for having free will, diminishes as we grow older. When we are young, life is fresh and the possibilities are endless, but from the womb we are influenced by our mothers, our fathers, friends, and teachers--combined with these social influences is genetics and some would call the totality of the concept "personality" (see turning it back to psychology now).
But at what point does our plasticity or capacity to change become too narrow? And when faced with a choice, at what point can we be 99% sure this person or that person will choose this way or that way? Research has supported that the ability to change diminishes as one grows older. Isn't that in short free will? Maybe free will isn't an illusion but rather is something we can only acknowledge after we've lost it. Max Payne is a perfect example.
I'll leave you with a quote by Sam Lake again. One of my favorites. It's when Max has to trudge through a fun house to get to someone for information, all the while he's thinking about where his life has taken him, and if he can escape the horrible tragedies that lie ahead--in truth, can he escape himself?
"A funhouse is a linear sequence of scares. Take it or leave it is the only choice given. Makes you think about free will. Had our choices been made for us because of who we are?"
Enjoy the rest of the week,
--Matt
As psychologists--clinical psychologists in particular--we hold to one premise: people can change; behaviors, thoughts, feelings--all of it--can be altered, if only a little, to better help the client. To be honest, I've never fully believed that people could change, or rather, I believe that the statement "people can change" isn't enough: people can change, yes, but it is very, very, VERY difficult. It takes a lot. Many individuals are rewriting years and years and years of patterns and behaviors when they enter therapy. This isn't easy. Here is an interesting side note: Don't quote me on this (and if someone is reading this that does know the specifics please correct me), but if I remember correctly, research has demonstrated that nearly 50% of a client's improvement can be attributed to other things besides therapy and the therapeutic relationship/modality; this includes changes in lifestyle, a new job, new girlfriend/boyfriend, etc.
Anyways, I thought about that and then this quote came to mind (the one above). Don't laugh. Yes, Max Payne is a video game, but the writer is prolific. The movie sucked, I know. Mark Wahlberg can act, but he couldn't get into the character, couldn't pull off the gritty, noir, silent fury of a man that Max Payne is--and the story for the movie was crap. I'm digressing again. Here's the point: Max Payne is about a man who comes home one day to find his wife and baby girl murdered. You play as him while shooting down bad guys and doing all sorts of crazy action sequences, but the most memorable parts come in between those scenes. The story comes in the form of a comic strip, where Max narrates to the player about what he's thinking/feeling and the reader is shown, well, comic strips of his life. This quote comes in the second game at a point in which Max comes to this realization that this is how it was always going to turn out, this is how his story would end. In a sense, "we are who we are" comes to mind. Once he was set down the path of vengeance (cheesy metaphor)--that is, the murdering of his wife and daughter--there was nothing to stop this particular outcome.
It's an interesting notion, the idea of fate I mean. If I were to do an armchair analysis of Max, it would go something like this: Max believed in joy, free will, in things that were just, but that changed (irony, I know). There are no coincidences in his world; there is no such thing as cruel chaos. The murder of his wife and his child were necessary, and the choices to follow made by Max were really not choices at all. This was who he was, what he had to do. But I am missing part of the point he tried to make with that quote aren't I? People believe in the illusion of free will, of choice, but Max has a point when he says "if you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions."Our choices make us who we are, or does who we are determine our choices? I don't know. It's not a question that is truly answerable. But it is something Max isn't afraid to face head on. In his life, he knew that his story was always going to end the way it did.
But that's his story--not yours or anyone else's. What do I believe? I don't know. I believe we always have a choice, that we are acting agents in our lives, that we can change; for some those choices make a hell of a difference where someone ends up, but for others... not so much. We are who we are. Personally, I think the capacity for truly choosing, for having free will, diminishes as we grow older. When we are young, life is fresh and the possibilities are endless, but from the womb we are influenced by our mothers, our fathers, friends, and teachers--combined with these social influences is genetics and some would call the totality of the concept "personality" (see turning it back to psychology now).
But at what point does our plasticity or capacity to change become too narrow? And when faced with a choice, at what point can we be 99% sure this person or that person will choose this way or that way? Research has supported that the ability to change diminishes as one grows older. Isn't that in short free will? Maybe free will isn't an illusion but rather is something we can only acknowledge after we've lost it. Max Payne is a perfect example.
I'll leave you with a quote by Sam Lake again. One of my favorites. It's when Max has to trudge through a fun house to get to someone for information, all the while he's thinking about where his life has taken him, and if he can escape the horrible tragedies that lie ahead--in truth, can he escape himself?
"A funhouse is a linear sequence of scares. Take it or leave it is the only choice given. Makes you think about free will. Had our choices been made for us because of who we are?"
Enjoy the rest of the week,
--Matt
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Uncertainty
"Harry, now is the time to choose between what is right and what is easy."--Dumbledore
I recently watched "Harry Potter and Goblet of Fire" over the Christmas break and this was the statement Dumbledore left Harry at the end of the movie. I thought about that for awhile and several things came to mind:
In regards to writing Fantasy--and no I don't know much about it, but--there is give and take with the reader: As an author, you have the opportunity to create a world where there is magic, imagination, totally different cultures with novel belief systems and traditions, role reversals, different species of humans and animals, aliens, you name it--in short, world building. But what you sacrifice is the element of realism, the characters handle problems dictated by the world in which they live in, which means sometimes the reader struggles to relate. However, what J.K. Rowling did so well was what every author strives to do: The problems experienced by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, are problems experienced by any kid who has ever had to trudge through the halls of high school. We've all met a Draco, had to deal with a Draco. We've all had crushes, had a first love, hated our families, hated our teachers (Snape). And for adults, we've all had to decide between the question that Dumbledore posed to Harry. We've had to make tough choices and will continue to make those choices as we get older.
As I get older, I have realized that the right choice often comes down to the very words Dumbledore spoke to Harry. In essence, it isn't easy: What we really want or what is best for us may not be the easiest thing to accomplish, and sadly, some people falter, some choose the alternative.
A couple of hours ago, I got off the phone with a good friend of mine who is now in medical school. We went to college together, lived together. And I can easily say he's one of the best friends I have (I know this seems like a digression but just listen). My friend and I started talking about where we are headed in our lives and the misconceptions we had that early adulthood has elucidated. Growing up, I believed many things, many things that ended up not being true, but I always thought that I would go to college, find someone to marry, settle down, have kids, ...you get the picture. I believed that I would know what I wanted to do, where I would be, and who I would be doing it with. I was so sure of myself, as was he, I think. And for some people that happens: They find what they are going to do for the rest of their lives. They meet that special someone early on. They know where they will be living. But for most it just isn't true. For instance, many individuals end up changing careers multiple times over the course of their life, and individuals may be completely different images of themselves at age 20, as compared to age 30. This happens. It's inevitable. What I struggle with is letting that happen, which brings me back to Dumbledore's original statement--slowly, yes, but I'm getting there.
It's the uncertainty in my life that I struggle with. I can never seem to get used to it. I worry too much, and all my worry seems to be over things I can't control (isn't that always the case). When I was a kid, the only thing I was uncertain of was what I was going to have for dinner, what video game I may play later on that night. Currently, I'm uncertain in my academic life, in my family life, in my love life, hell, in all of it. The precariousness of life always seems to be the most troubling.
And that's why I believe we fear those choices that Dumbledore eloquently put so well: The right choice leads to uncertainty; it leads to an open road, with no map, no compass, and sometimes very little help from anyone. You're stranded. And the only way to survive is to keep moving forward. But in my experience, most people don't make this choice. We give reasons why we can't. "I can't do that because I'd have to move." "It's too hard." "I'd be giving up so much." Comfort, security--they are just veils behind which uncertainty lies. We're afraid, pure and simple. I'm afraid. This isn't to say that sometimes the easy choice and the right choice can't be the same, or that someone who doesn't make the "right" choice should look down upon themselves for it. Let me put it more realistically: It isn't just a little fear that hinders us. These choices are pretty damn terrifying. They cripple us. And most of the time on our best days, we can't make that choice because there is such a great cost to us--and that's okay.
Let's go back to Harry Potter.
In the novels to come, he is put in position after position where he has to make choices like these, choices that lead him into the realm of uncertainty, into the heart of fear. But he does it. And that's why we love Harry so god damn much. He's what we want to be. Every. Time. Sure, sometimes he falters, makes mistakes, but he does what we can't, makes the choice that we know in our own hearts we would crumble making. I'd like to think I've made a few choices that have been "right", but I know in all of them this wasn't the case. I guess what it comes down to is you have to decide is it really worth it. And for Harry, sometimes he is pushed into that choice isn't he? A bit of a digression, but perhaps that is the only time we feel we can make those choices: We must be pushed into them by external events. Something happens where the right choice becomes the only choice, something made easy through hardship.
Alright I'm done for now. Enjoy the rest of the week.
--Matt
I recently watched "Harry Potter and Goblet of Fire" over the Christmas break and this was the statement Dumbledore left Harry at the end of the movie. I thought about that for awhile and several things came to mind:
In regards to writing Fantasy--and no I don't know much about it, but--there is give and take with the reader: As an author, you have the opportunity to create a world where there is magic, imagination, totally different cultures with novel belief systems and traditions, role reversals, different species of humans and animals, aliens, you name it--in short, world building. But what you sacrifice is the element of realism, the characters handle problems dictated by the world in which they live in, which means sometimes the reader struggles to relate. However, what J.K. Rowling did so well was what every author strives to do: The problems experienced by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, are problems experienced by any kid who has ever had to trudge through the halls of high school. We've all met a Draco, had to deal with a Draco. We've all had crushes, had a first love, hated our families, hated our teachers (Snape). And for adults, we've all had to decide between the question that Dumbledore posed to Harry. We've had to make tough choices and will continue to make those choices as we get older.
As I get older, I have realized that the right choice often comes down to the very words Dumbledore spoke to Harry. In essence, it isn't easy: What we really want or what is best for us may not be the easiest thing to accomplish, and sadly, some people falter, some choose the alternative.
A couple of hours ago, I got off the phone with a good friend of mine who is now in medical school. We went to college together, lived together. And I can easily say he's one of the best friends I have (I know this seems like a digression but just listen). My friend and I started talking about where we are headed in our lives and the misconceptions we had that early adulthood has elucidated. Growing up, I believed many things, many things that ended up not being true, but I always thought that I would go to college, find someone to marry, settle down, have kids, ...you get the picture. I believed that I would know what I wanted to do, where I would be, and who I would be doing it with. I was so sure of myself, as was he, I think. And for some people that happens: They find what they are going to do for the rest of their lives. They meet that special someone early on. They know where they will be living. But for most it just isn't true. For instance, many individuals end up changing careers multiple times over the course of their life, and individuals may be completely different images of themselves at age 20, as compared to age 30. This happens. It's inevitable. What I struggle with is letting that happen, which brings me back to Dumbledore's original statement--slowly, yes, but I'm getting there.
It's the uncertainty in my life that I struggle with. I can never seem to get used to it. I worry too much, and all my worry seems to be over things I can't control (isn't that always the case). When I was a kid, the only thing I was uncertain of was what I was going to have for dinner, what video game I may play later on that night. Currently, I'm uncertain in my academic life, in my family life, in my love life, hell, in all of it. The precariousness of life always seems to be the most troubling.
And that's why I believe we fear those choices that Dumbledore eloquently put so well: The right choice leads to uncertainty; it leads to an open road, with no map, no compass, and sometimes very little help from anyone. You're stranded. And the only way to survive is to keep moving forward. But in my experience, most people don't make this choice. We give reasons why we can't. "I can't do that because I'd have to move." "It's too hard." "I'd be giving up so much." Comfort, security--they are just veils behind which uncertainty lies. We're afraid, pure and simple. I'm afraid. This isn't to say that sometimes the easy choice and the right choice can't be the same, or that someone who doesn't make the "right" choice should look down upon themselves for it. Let me put it more realistically: It isn't just a little fear that hinders us. These choices are pretty damn terrifying. They cripple us. And most of the time on our best days, we can't make that choice because there is such a great cost to us--and that's okay.
Let's go back to Harry Potter.
In the novels to come, he is put in position after position where he has to make choices like these, choices that lead him into the realm of uncertainty, into the heart of fear. But he does it. And that's why we love Harry so god damn much. He's what we want to be. Every. Time. Sure, sometimes he falters, makes mistakes, but he does what we can't, makes the choice that we know in our own hearts we would crumble making. I'd like to think I've made a few choices that have been "right", but I know in all of them this wasn't the case. I guess what it comes down to is you have to decide is it really worth it. And for Harry, sometimes he is pushed into that choice isn't he? A bit of a digression, but perhaps that is the only time we feel we can make those choices: We must be pushed into them by external events. Something happens where the right choice becomes the only choice, something made easy through hardship.
Alright I'm done for now. Enjoy the rest of the week.
--Matt
Friday, January 4, 2013
Great Stories: What I miss about being a kid
"There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man...a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. This is the twilight zone." --Rod Serling
I was a very fortunate child: when I was little, my mom would work all day while I went to school, and every weekday at 3:00pm, my grandma or grandpa would pick me up, and I would go to their house until my mom got off work. It was a blessing: My grandma and grandpa spoiled me. Sweet tea was always brewing; food was always cooked; desserts were plentiful; and it was here I was introduced to such amazing shows like Star Trek (original and next generation, mind you), The Twilight Zone, First Wave (if you know that show, I'm impressed in a very nerdy kind of way), X-files, Frasier, Toonami on cartoon network (DragonBall Z, Gundam Wing, etc..), and others I'm possibly forgetting. My grandma also took the liberty to introduce to video games--yeah that's right, my grandma played video games, and it would be present tense if her fingers weren't shaking so bad from old age.
You name it, I'm pretty sure I played it. Duck Hunt, Punch out, and Mario were just opening acts: WITH my grandma, I played Zelda I-IV (she has the original gold one for Nintendo), Gauntlet I and II, in which I still hear those famous words in my head, "Blue Wizard, you are about to die," Final Fantasy (all of them up until the playstation was introduced), Breath of Fire, Chrono Trigger, Lufia I and II, Mystiq Quest, Secret of Evermore, Secret of Mana, and ...oh I could go on and on. Nerding you out yet? Listen to this: Final Fantasy 4 and 6 were introduced into the U.S as Final Fantasy 2 and 3. And out of all the Final Fantasy games that are out there, FF6 is the only one that I know for super nintendo that is actually two-player. Why am I telling you this? Well, so there I was, a kid at the tender age of 8, playing FF6 with his grandmother--at the same time. How epic is that?
I guess I'm writing this because I've been looking back at all the things that have molded me into who I am--and who I will become. Over New Years the Sci-fi channel had a Twilight Zone marathon, and all day my grandmother, my mom, and myself watched it. Don't ask. We didn't have anything better to do really, sad I know. But watching those episodes, those episodes in which I had seen a hundred times, plucked at the strings of sentimentality and nostalgia. And I began to wonder: How much has this influenced me? Where has this come from? And what does it mean?
And no I'm not talking about my likes and dislikes. Yes, obviously I like Star Trek now because I watched it as a kid. I'm talking about my need to write, my compulsion to put words down on paper, well, in this case, type words down onto a computer screen; I'm talking about my love for a great story, for those romantic endings you only see in books and movies, for loving to see new worlds develop on screen, in a book or game... You know, after saying all that, I don't know if that's why I'm writing this... hmm...
When you walk into my grandma's house, you immediately set your feet in the living room. A fireplace is to your left with two huge loveseat rocking chairs; past it is the kitchen. Also, this might be bad if thieves want to rob the place--I'm basically giving you the layout. Anyways, behind the loveseats, next to the fireplace, are stacks and stacks of books from mystery, to thriller, to romance, to fantasy, to whatever, book after book after book. But that isn't all. Downstairs in the basement there another two massive shelves about a wall's wide long full of books, some I can't believe my grandma even has (she has an old Winston Churchill book. Looks rare and important, don't really know for sure though). What is it about those books when I see them that evokes such a sadness, such a...dare I say...longing in me? What do those books, TV shows, and video games have in common? I think I know...
Why am I really writing this? It's simple: I miss a great story. I miss great writing. I miss playing a game for hours because I submerged myself in that world and not my own. I miss those times when I was with my grandmother as a child, reading, watching Captain James T. Kirk and the Enterprise tear the galaxy apart in search for answers to the riddles of the universe. It sounds comical, but perhaps that's why I have a compulsion to write, a need to put my thoughts down on paper, hoping one day I'll come up with the next great story. But it's more than that isn't it? Being home this break reminded me of all the things I had forgotten, of all the great stories that I missed out on as I got older, lost to time. In essence, I was a kid again. And it felt so good to remember the past and forget about the present. Being an adult sucks, and writing places me into a world in which I can feel like I was when I was ten: I can forget about reality and bring a great story to life like the old games I used to play, like the Twilight Zone, like the amazing books I read as a child.
My advice to you reading this: Do something you loved as a kid that captured your imagination. Watch your favorite TV show. Read your favorite book. Play the old school video game you always wish you had the time to dig out. Rediscover what were your great stories, what caused you to leave the shallow waters of reality and into the deep end that is fantasy and creativity. What do you miss the most since you've become an adult? Find it. And then bring your great stories to life and enjoy the brief respite from the mountain of reality.
So in true Twilight Zone style, I'll finish with this:
"Here is a simple man, plagued by the great beast that is time, whose only wish is to recapture the wonder of his past by swimming through the streams of sentimentality and nostalgia. He is a raconteur, and his words have taken on a life of their own... He has written himself into the Twilight Zone." --Matt (Hey, I gave it shot).
I was a very fortunate child: when I was little, my mom would work all day while I went to school, and every weekday at 3:00pm, my grandma or grandpa would pick me up, and I would go to their house until my mom got off work. It was a blessing: My grandma and grandpa spoiled me. Sweet tea was always brewing; food was always cooked; desserts were plentiful; and it was here I was introduced to such amazing shows like Star Trek (original and next generation, mind you), The Twilight Zone, First Wave (if you know that show, I'm impressed in a very nerdy kind of way), X-files, Frasier, Toonami on cartoon network (DragonBall Z, Gundam Wing, etc..), and others I'm possibly forgetting. My grandma also took the liberty to introduce to video games--yeah that's right, my grandma played video games, and it would be present tense if her fingers weren't shaking so bad from old age.
You name it, I'm pretty sure I played it. Duck Hunt, Punch out, and Mario were just opening acts: WITH my grandma, I played Zelda I-IV (she has the original gold one for Nintendo), Gauntlet I and II, in which I still hear those famous words in my head, "Blue Wizard, you are about to die," Final Fantasy (all of them up until the playstation was introduced), Breath of Fire, Chrono Trigger, Lufia I and II, Mystiq Quest, Secret of Evermore, Secret of Mana, and ...oh I could go on and on. Nerding you out yet? Listen to this: Final Fantasy 4 and 6 were introduced into the U.S as Final Fantasy 2 and 3. And out of all the Final Fantasy games that are out there, FF6 is the only one that I know for super nintendo that is actually two-player. Why am I telling you this? Well, so there I was, a kid at the tender age of 8, playing FF6 with his grandmother--at the same time. How epic is that?
I guess I'm writing this because I've been looking back at all the things that have molded me into who I am--and who I will become. Over New Years the Sci-fi channel had a Twilight Zone marathon, and all day my grandmother, my mom, and myself watched it. Don't ask. We didn't have anything better to do really, sad I know. But watching those episodes, those episodes in which I had seen a hundred times, plucked at the strings of sentimentality and nostalgia. And I began to wonder: How much has this influenced me? Where has this come from? And what does it mean?
And no I'm not talking about my likes and dislikes. Yes, obviously I like Star Trek now because I watched it as a kid. I'm talking about my need to write, my compulsion to put words down on paper, well, in this case, type words down onto a computer screen; I'm talking about my love for a great story, for those romantic endings you only see in books and movies, for loving to see new worlds develop on screen, in a book or game... You know, after saying all that, I don't know if that's why I'm writing this... hmm...
When you walk into my grandma's house, you immediately set your feet in the living room. A fireplace is to your left with two huge loveseat rocking chairs; past it is the kitchen. Also, this might be bad if thieves want to rob the place--I'm basically giving you the layout. Anyways, behind the loveseats, next to the fireplace, are stacks and stacks of books from mystery, to thriller, to romance, to fantasy, to whatever, book after book after book. But that isn't all. Downstairs in the basement there another two massive shelves about a wall's wide long full of books, some I can't believe my grandma even has (she has an old Winston Churchill book. Looks rare and important, don't really know for sure though). What is it about those books when I see them that evokes such a sadness, such a...dare I say...longing in me? What do those books, TV shows, and video games have in common? I think I know...
Why am I really writing this? It's simple: I miss a great story. I miss great writing. I miss playing a game for hours because I submerged myself in that world and not my own. I miss those times when I was with my grandmother as a child, reading, watching Captain James T. Kirk and the Enterprise tear the galaxy apart in search for answers to the riddles of the universe. It sounds comical, but perhaps that's why I have a compulsion to write, a need to put my thoughts down on paper, hoping one day I'll come up with the next great story. But it's more than that isn't it? Being home this break reminded me of all the things I had forgotten, of all the great stories that I missed out on as I got older, lost to time. In essence, I was a kid again. And it felt so good to remember the past and forget about the present. Being an adult sucks, and writing places me into a world in which I can feel like I was when I was ten: I can forget about reality and bring a great story to life like the old games I used to play, like the Twilight Zone, like the amazing books I read as a child.
My advice to you reading this: Do something you loved as a kid that captured your imagination. Watch your favorite TV show. Read your favorite book. Play the old school video game you always wish you had the time to dig out. Rediscover what were your great stories, what caused you to leave the shallow waters of reality and into the deep end that is fantasy and creativity. What do you miss the most since you've become an adult? Find it. And then bring your great stories to life and enjoy the brief respite from the mountain of reality.
So in true Twilight Zone style, I'll finish with this:
"Here is a simple man, plagued by the great beast that is time, whose only wish is to recapture the wonder of his past by swimming through the streams of sentimentality and nostalgia. He is a raconteur, and his words have taken on a life of their own... He has written himself into the Twilight Zone." --Matt (Hey, I gave it shot).
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