I shared a cigar with a prostitute tonight.
It was about 10:00 pm, and I had everything planned out: I was going to go to Wal-Mart and get Nyquill because I'm feeling sick, and then I was going to go to the Leaf (the cigar shop downtown) and get a fat cigar. I would sit in the shadows of the building, smoking, worrying about nothing. I figured if I got to the leaf by 10:30 pm, I would have plenty of time to enjoy the smoke and get back to campus before curfew. I bought the Nyquill and got to the Leaf by 10:10, only to find out that the Leaf closes at 8pm on weekdays and 11 pm on the weekEND. Damn it. I wanted to smoke bad enough that I wasn't going to just go home--I had to find somewhere that sold something.
I remembered that there was a 7-11 on Treadaway, so I headed over there. Only a few cars in the parking lot, a couple sitting on the front curb talking, and a lady that looked like she was waiting for a ride by the side of the building. She was slightly overweight, had crooked teeth, and was carrying a bag. I went in and bought a regular cigarillo from a cashier who said I looked like I was at least 18, so he didn't check me for ID.
I headed outside, grabbed my box of matches, and went to the side of the building where that lady was. As I walked past her, I realized she was intently looking at me. She asked me if I was going by the Whitten Inn, because she lived by there and needed a ride home. I lied and said I didn't know where that was. She told me. I avoided agreeing to anything by saying that I was just going to smoke, then we'll see. She seemed put out. Then she asked me if she could do anything for me, because she needed to buy some cigarettes. I knew exactly what she meant by that--she was a prostitute and was looking for work. Of course I said no, thank you. I asked her name. "Heather," she said. We shook hands.
I turned and tried to light the cigar, but being new to the whole smoking practice, I couldn't get it lit. About this time, a lady walked up from down the street and asked if I needed a lighter. She had a tattoo that said "Baby" on her arm. I thanked her and took it, but still couldn't get it lit. She said let me light it, so I gave her the cigar, she put it in her mouth, and observed the ease with which she got it lit. A car pulled up full of women that I assume was with the second lady. I don't actually remember if she get in it with them. But I realized without doubt that I had come to where prostitutes solicit themselves in Abilene at night. So what did I do? I took a seat.
I leaned up against the building and sat smoking. Heather sat down as well. This was my first experience with a prostitute that I had been aware of, and automatically I thought of the story where Tony Campollo threw the birthday party for the prostitute in the bar. So I wasn't scared of her or anything. I wanted to try to show her that I just wanted to talk, to appeal to her human side rather than get something from her. So I asked her how long she had been in Abilene. She said "7 years." "Wooo," I replied. "In this town? That's a long time." "Yeah," she said. "I'm originally from San Angelo," a town I didn't know, but is around 100 miles from Abilene. "So why did you come?" I asked. She said she moved down here with her husband so he could take care of a family member of his, either grandmother or mother. I can't remember which. "But he died on Christmas morning of '07," she said. "Oh my gosh," I gasped. "That's awful." "Yeah," she said, then switching topics almost absentmindedly. "Are you sure you don't need anything? I really need five dollars." "Yeah, I'm sure," I said with gentle sarcasm. I then decided that I'd let her have 5 dollars when I left.
"I'll buy you some cigarettes," I told her. "I have a friend who's been smoking for 4 years, and we can't smoke on campus, so I understand someone needing some badly." "Oh," she responded, "my bad." Then she laughed at mistaking me for a customer. "Where do you go to school?" I told her ACU, and then she told me how she was raised Baptist. "Do you mind if I bum off that with you?" she asked, referring to my cigarillo. "Sure, I said, and passed it over. "So," I asked, starting up another conversation, "what did you want to be? Like, what did you want to do when you were younger?" I wanted to be, like, a nurse's assistant," she said as I politely nodded. She said she liked helping people and was good at it. "And," she ended, "I actually got a job at K-Mart, and I start on Monday." "Wow," I said. "That's great! Are you nervous?" "Yeah, a little bit," she admitted. I then saw an amazing opportunity--I could go see her on her first day. I didn't know if she has family in town, but she was scared about her first day. I thought it could only make a positive impact on her if I went to her, remembered her name, and wished her luck on Monday. I felt like that could make a good impact in the name of love.
At this time, a shady man started walking towards us, and I sort of got scared. I stood up and asked if she wanted to go inside and get the cigarettes. She hesitated. "Uh, no, I'm not going to buy them here." She told me about a little place whose name I can no longer recall where everything is really cheap, and she said she was going to buy them there. I waited until Shady Man went into inside, then I pulled out my wallet and gave her five bucks. She was startled, I don't know why, and she said, "well, now I don't have to go by the Whitten Inn." This comment confused me. Nevertheless, I wished her good luck on the first day, and I got in my car and drove away.
I had several things I thought about as I drove home. First, was her asking me to take her "near the Whitten Inn" the way that she gets business? Is that prostitute terminology? Also, I wondered if she's there every night. I wondered if she had kids. I wondered where her mouth had been.
I worried about sharing the smoke with her all the way home, so much so that I came home and brushed my teeth. I don't know why I was worried--maybe I assumed she could have AIDS of the mouth or some other disease. I also wondered what male body parts that mouth had touched. Did I have a good reason to worry? Was I being unjustly cautious?
This whole experience is so strange to me, and the normality of which it unfolded adds to the strangeness. If I hadn't wanted to smoke tonight, I would have never met Heather, and I wouldn't have heard that she got an new job, and I would never have seen this opportunity to show her love. But it all just happened.
Am I being nice to her just because she is a prostitute? I think so, which saddens me. I wanted to talk to her because of her profession, but as we talked I didn't see her as what she did, I saw her as a human who has been broken and hurt by experiences in the past that lead her here. I want to show her that God loves her, even if she is used by men for sexual experiences. I thought about inviting her to church. I think I will if I see her again.
I have thought about this before, and it makes so much sense to me--smoking provides a whole new avenue of relationship. People who smoke are readily open to others who smoke. I've seen this through being around Mihir. I'm considering taking up smoking so I can get to know people who otherwise I wouldn't have anything in common with. If I do this, it will undoubtedly harm my body, I know that. But is the message of Christ worth more than that? I'm conflicted. For our Cornerstone class, we were assigned to read a letter written by Flannery O'Connor, in which she tells a college student who is uncertain about his faith that "about the only way we know whether we believe or not is by what we do." Judging by how I interacted with Heather and that I wanted her to know Christ, I guess it's safe to assume that I do believe.
Nevertheless, tonight is an experience that I will always remember.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Introducing the New Testament: Chapter 4
For the Life and Teachings of Jesus class tomorrow, I had to read chapter four in our "Introducing the new Testament" textbook. This chapter deals with the gospels. And as I read this, something inside me settled, because I felt like I was getting questions answered that had been lingering for years.
The beginning of the chapter discusses how each individual gospel is not just a neutral book written for 21st century American Christians. The books define the gospels as "'literary artworks.' Each Gospel presents a portrait of Jesus that is distinctive from those of the other three." Also, the chapter talks about how most people have a conglomerated picture of Jesus from all four of the Gospels, so that they cannot tell what is distinct about each individual gospel. I fall under that category. There are so many things that I had no idea about but assumed I did. For example, I didn't know that Matthew and Luke contain numerous stories that Mark leaves out. A theory about this is that Mark wrote his gospel first, and Matthew and Luke had a copy of it when they created their more in depth books. I had no idea!
The theory also contends that Matthew and Luke had a separate document called simply, Q (I had known about the existence of that document thanks to Odyssey. Thanks Whit for getting into trouble in the middle east! How I do is nothing great.). They assume that this document was mostly things that Jesus said. Scholars theorize that Matthew and Luke had both the book of Mark and the Q document when they constructed their pictures of Jesus.
So, theories go, Mark came first, then Matthew, then Luke, and I assume then John, however our book didn't talk about the last gospel. That was a question I had had but forgotten for a long time, what was the order of the authorship of the books?
This question leads into the deeper question of the Synoptic Puzzle, or "how these three Gospels" (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) "should be related to each other." I haven't thought about that puzzle very much, so I don't really have anything to say about it. Only that I know it exists.
With reading this chapter, I feel like the class is going to be extraordinarily helpful in my attempt to sort out the questions about the Bible, even the ones I don't remember that I have.
The beginning of the chapter discusses how each individual gospel is not just a neutral book written for 21st century American Christians. The books define the gospels as "'literary artworks.' Each Gospel presents a portrait of Jesus that is distinctive from those of the other three." Also, the chapter talks about how most people have a conglomerated picture of Jesus from all four of the Gospels, so that they cannot tell what is distinct about each individual gospel. I fall under that category. There are so many things that I had no idea about but assumed I did. For example, I didn't know that Matthew and Luke contain numerous stories that Mark leaves out. A theory about this is that Mark wrote his gospel first, and Matthew and Luke had a copy of it when they created their more in depth books. I had no idea!
The theory also contends that Matthew and Luke had a separate document called simply, Q (I had known about the existence of that document thanks to Odyssey. Thanks Whit for getting into trouble in the middle east! How I do is nothing great.). They assume that this document was mostly things that Jesus said. Scholars theorize that Matthew and Luke had both the book of Mark and the Q document when they constructed their pictures of Jesus.
So, theories go, Mark came first, then Matthew, then Luke, and I assume then John, however our book didn't talk about the last gospel. That was a question I had had but forgotten for a long time, what was the order of the authorship of the books?
This question leads into the deeper question of the Synoptic Puzzle, or "how these three Gospels" (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) "should be related to each other." I haven't thought about that puzzle very much, so I don't really have anything to say about it. Only that I know it exists.
With reading this chapter, I feel like the class is going to be extraordinarily helpful in my attempt to sort out the questions about the Bible, even the ones I don't remember that I have.
Trailers!
I love good movie trailers! I just watched two really good ones, and I have this uncontrollable happiness within me.
The first, and best, is for "It's Kind of a Funny Story." It's about a boy who admits himself into a mental hospital because he's depressed. In there, he meets Zach Galifinakis, a father who thinks his daughter is better off without him, and Emma Roberts, a girl who presents herself with a bitchy facade as a shield, at least I'm assuming. But what gets me is the music. If a trailer has a good song, it creates the best type of atmosphere. Let me explain.
Several years ago, a film came out called "Sunshine Cleaning." The movie itself seemed decent at best, relying on the fact that it was produced by the same people who did "Little Miss Sunshine." But in the trailer, the song "Crane Wife 3" by the Decemberists was used. And it was beautiful. To date, that is probably my favorite trailer, because the music perfectly fuses with the scenes presented to make an almost infinite moment. I love that trailer.
And with "Funny Story," I got the same type of feeling I get when I watch the "Sunshine Cleaning" trailer. The song used is called "Oh My God" by Ida Maria, and the upbeat, optimistic, memento mori-type atmosphere is created once again. Plus, there's a shot of the protagonist and Emma Roberts running through the hospital, which is automatically a plus, because I love it in films when people run because they are happy. I don't know why, I just do. So, great trailer find #1.
The second film doesn't have a great trailer, but the film itself will probably be great. The film is called "Somewhere," and Sofia Coppola directed it. I respect her work and look forward to her films more than most directors. Even in the trailer, I can sense the feeling of distance, of lostness, the same type of feeling that was throughout "Lost in Translation." Coppola is sublime in how she creates that feeling, but she does it extraordinarily. Plus, this is the second film she has used a Strokes' song in the trailer (this time it's a stripped-down version of "You Only Live Once" that I had never heard before).
I found these trailers through my favorite distribution company's website, Focus Features. That company selects the best films.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Cornerstone Pt. 2: Walk In My Shoes
Today Professor Kristina Campos (the lady who announces the winners at TCSIT. Yes, the "one clap" lady) gave the second Cornerstone lecture, titled "Walk In My Shoes." On stage, she had three different pairs of shoes: one of a small child, one that looked like business shoes, and a pair of TOMS with the ACU logo on the front. I recognized that the TOMS belonged to the new president of ACU.
Campos coupled her talk with an episode of "30 Days," the show that we frequently watched in Weathers' class. This one was about a border patrolman who went to live with an illegal family for a month. Each one of Spurlock's shows fascinate me, because it juxtaposes people with polar opposite ideologies.
Campos talked primarily about empathy and narrative. She said that humans learn best through stories, and I agree. She illustrated this point by telling the "stories" of the shoes on the stage. The child shoes belonged to her daughter and were worn when she took her first steps. The business shoes actually were worn by an officer who participated in over 500 funerals of fallen soldiers. And as she told these stories, I could picture the scenes she was describing. The details I saw in my head were most likely incorrect, but the stories became personal when I imagined what it looked like. Maybe this is why so many people hate movies that were adapted from books--because the characters don't look like what they had pictured in their heads, the locations are different, and the interactions are changed.
I thought more about the idea that shoes tell stories, and that is quite true. Shoes have a huge part in our lives, because they experience everything we do (unless you roll barefoot). I remember buying the pairs of slip-ons I consistently wear: Mihir and I went to Rack Room Shoes by his house because he wanted to see a friend who worked there, and I needed new shoes. They were buy one get one half off, and they were both twenty bucks. And they are really cool--they have a plaid pattern, one with almost diamond looking figures. I remember wearing them to school, and this guy in my class (a bro who played baseball with whom I had never spoke) told me they were cool as we passed each other in the hall. I don't know why I remember this experience. The diamond patterned pair I labeled in my mind as the "Abby shoes," referring to the girl I had a crush on, because I would only wear them when I knew I was going to see her. I kept them clean that way. Very, very strange behavior looking back that makes me rather embarrassed, but I accept what I did because I felt it important at that time. All this to say, shoes share our experiences.
But not just shoes. I have a shirt that says "I'm A Keeper" that I wore after Karlie Hatchett and I "broke up" (although I don't think we were ever officially dating) freshman year. I have my burgundy backpack that my sister ran over in my high school parking lot. I have my cousin's wedding shirt that says "Beast Feast" on the back, referring to the event where all the males associated with either the groom or the bride got together and barbecued with our shirts off. I feel really bizarre about that one. I have so many items that have memories linked to them, so many mementos of experiences I've had that mean something to me. I now see the necessity for Joel to relinquish every item that has a memory tied to Clementine in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"--our lives create memories that have items bearing their significance. That's part of the reason giving movies as gifts is my favorite gift to give, because people love movies not only for the story, but the community in which they watched the movie, the memories of which the film reminds them.
And so, by "walking in someone else's shoes," we are not just putting our feet in a piece of leather--we are trying to empathize with the situations that have made them the person they are, to understand the life they are living. By learning to see other people not only as who they are, but also as a person with a history, most often different than our own, we learn to truly see people as they are. Because if we refuse to attempt to understand people, we stereotype, we assume, we marginalize, and we separate.
This is why I'm not going to try to help Mihir with how he sleeps until I understand it better. His insomnia looks, to me, like it could be easily fixed: stay awake until 9pm, then go to sleep and get up a normal hour, instead of sleeping all throughout the day. Maybe before, he didn't have good sleeping habits, and changing them could help him. Or maybe he has thoughts that keep him up at night (like he's told me before) that can't be put away in order for him to sleep. Maybe he has a condition that can't be cured by responsible habits. And see, I'm not even walking in his shoes; I don't know what it's like to have insomnia. I'm just trying to be understanding and consider the situations that have created him to be this way. It's not bad--it's just different than me.
The people that have shoes that are difficult for me to walk in are the bros. You know, the stereotypical douchebags that only care about video games, sports, drinking, and girls. I don't know how to empathize with the type of life they are living because I think it's petty and worthless. Do I need to empathize with them too?
Therefore, I think Prof. Campos chose a worthy topic to speak about, because people inherently consider the others around them. In doing so, after this speech, people will be more open to stepping out of their TOMS/Chocos/Savile's/Nikes and into someone else's shoes, and hopefully they'll be okay with the foot fungus that remains--a reminder of the lives of others.
Campos coupled her talk with an episode of "30 Days," the show that we frequently watched in Weathers' class. This one was about a border patrolman who went to live with an illegal family for a month. Each one of Spurlock's shows fascinate me, because it juxtaposes people with polar opposite ideologies.
Campos talked primarily about empathy and narrative. She said that humans learn best through stories, and I agree. She illustrated this point by telling the "stories" of the shoes on the stage. The child shoes belonged to her daughter and were worn when she took her first steps. The business shoes actually were worn by an officer who participated in over 500 funerals of fallen soldiers. And as she told these stories, I could picture the scenes she was describing. The details I saw in my head were most likely incorrect, but the stories became personal when I imagined what it looked like. Maybe this is why so many people hate movies that were adapted from books--because the characters don't look like what they had pictured in their heads, the locations are different, and the interactions are changed.
I thought more about the idea that shoes tell stories, and that is quite true. Shoes have a huge part in our lives, because they experience everything we do (unless you roll barefoot). I remember buying the pairs of slip-ons I consistently wear: Mihir and I went to Rack Room Shoes by his house because he wanted to see a friend who worked there, and I needed new shoes. They were buy one get one half off, and they were both twenty bucks. And they are really cool--they have a plaid pattern, one with almost diamond looking figures. I remember wearing them to school, and this guy in my class (a bro who played baseball with whom I had never spoke) told me they were cool as we passed each other in the hall. I don't know why I remember this experience. The diamond patterned pair I labeled in my mind as the "Abby shoes," referring to the girl I had a crush on, because I would only wear them when I knew I was going to see her. I kept them clean that way. Very, very strange behavior looking back that makes me rather embarrassed, but I accept what I did because I felt it important at that time. All this to say, shoes share our experiences.
But not just shoes. I have a shirt that says "I'm A Keeper" that I wore after Karlie Hatchett and I "broke up" (although I don't think we were ever officially dating) freshman year. I have my burgundy backpack that my sister ran over in my high school parking lot. I have my cousin's wedding shirt that says "Beast Feast" on the back, referring to the event where all the males associated with either the groom or the bride got together and barbecued with our shirts off. I feel really bizarre about that one. I have so many items that have memories linked to them, so many mementos of experiences I've had that mean something to me. I now see the necessity for Joel to relinquish every item that has a memory tied to Clementine in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"--our lives create memories that have items bearing their significance. That's part of the reason giving movies as gifts is my favorite gift to give, because people love movies not only for the story, but the community in which they watched the movie, the memories of which the film reminds them.
And so, by "walking in someone else's shoes," we are not just putting our feet in a piece of leather--we are trying to empathize with the situations that have made them the person they are, to understand the life they are living. By learning to see other people not only as who they are, but also as a person with a history, most often different than our own, we learn to truly see people as they are. Because if we refuse to attempt to understand people, we stereotype, we assume, we marginalize, and we separate.
This is why I'm not going to try to help Mihir with how he sleeps until I understand it better. His insomnia looks, to me, like it could be easily fixed: stay awake until 9pm, then go to sleep and get up a normal hour, instead of sleeping all throughout the day. Maybe before, he didn't have good sleeping habits, and changing them could help him. Or maybe he has thoughts that keep him up at night (like he's told me before) that can't be put away in order for him to sleep. Maybe he has a condition that can't be cured by responsible habits. And see, I'm not even walking in his shoes; I don't know what it's like to have insomnia. I'm just trying to be understanding and consider the situations that have created him to be this way. It's not bad--it's just different than me.
The people that have shoes that are difficult for me to walk in are the bros. You know, the stereotypical douchebags that only care about video games, sports, drinking, and girls. I don't know how to empathize with the type of life they are living because I think it's petty and worthless. Do I need to empathize with them too?
Therefore, I think Prof. Campos chose a worthy topic to speak about, because people inherently consider the others around them. In doing so, after this speech, people will be more open to stepping out of their TOMS/Chocos/Savile's/Nikes and into someone else's shoes, and hopefully they'll be okay with the foot fungus that remains--a reminder of the lives of others.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Stairwell Sessions
I was sitting in my room, reading The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo, when I heard music playing somewhere in the dorm. It was pretty loud and had that echo-y sound to it, so I assumed that people were playing in the bathroom. Then I heard what sounded like drums, and someone singing really loudly. I wondered how they could have gotten a whole drum set into the bathroom. I thought maybe they just used the snare or something. I kept wondering for about 10 minutes, letting my mind wander as I absent-mindedly read the words on the page, not getting any meaning from them. Then I decided to see what's going on (memento mori!), and I ventured into the hall.
I looked around and found that the sound was not coming from the bathroom, but the stairwell. Two guys were sitting in there, having a jam session. One was playing a guitar, the other a cello. I said nothing and sat down to listen.
I asked afterward about that song, and the guy playing the guitar said it was something he had written in bits and pieces, and had now just put it together. And the guy with the cello was completely improving. How awesome is that? Only in college can this experience happen. I'm glad I took a risk and chose to explore rather than to ignore.
I looked around and found that the sound was not coming from the bathroom, but the stairwell. Two guys were sitting in there, having a jam session. One was playing a guitar, the other a cello. I said nothing and sat down to listen.
I asked afterward about that song, and the guy playing the guitar said it was something he had written in bits and pieces, and had now just put it together. And the guy with the cello was completely improving. How awesome is that? Only in college can this experience happen. I'm glad I took a risk and chose to explore rather than to ignore.
Se7en
Tonight, I watched "Seven" with the same guys who watched "Children of Men," plus one (one guy was out of town). This film was interesting, to say the least.
The film had one of the most exciting chase scenes that I've ever seen, when the detectives go to John Doe's apartment and he sees them as he comes up the stairs. I was very engaged and on the edge of my seat (literally). It was a great scene.
The most intellectually stimulating scene is when John Doe leads the detectives to the site of the last bodies. In this scene, the detectives and the audience really get to see the thought process of the sadistic killer. His reason for killing these people is all in how he views them:
The film had one of the most exciting chase scenes that I've ever seen, when the detectives go to John Doe's apartment and he sees them as he comes up the stairs. I was very engaged and on the edge of my seat (literally). It was a great scene.
The most intellectually stimulating scene is when John Doe leads the detectives to the site of the last bodies. In this scene, the detectives and the audience really get to see the thought process of the sadistic killer. His reason for killing these people is all in how he views them:
Innocent? Is that supposed to be funny? An obese man... a disgusting man who could barely stand up; a man who if you saw him on the street, you'd point him out to your friends so that they could join you in mocking him; a man, who if you saw him while you were eating, you wouldn't be able to finish your meal. After him, I picked the lawyer and I know you both must have been secretly thanking me for that one. This is a man who dedicated his life to making money by lying with every breath that he could muster to keeping murderers and rapists on the streets! A woman...so ugly on the inside she couldn't bear to go on living if she couldn't be beautiful on the outside. A drug dealer, a drug dealing pederast, actually! And let's not forget the disease-spreading whore! Only in a world this shitty could you even try to say these were innocent people and keep a straight face. But that's the point. We see a deadly sin on every street corner, in every home, and we tolerate it. We tolerate it because it's common, it's trivial. We tolerate it morning, noon, and night.
John Doe's thought process makes sense for a person trying to live the letter of the law, a person who is trying to be perfect on his own. Yes, people everywhere are guilty of lust, slothfulness, greed, gluttony, and all the other deadly sins. If a person were trying to follow the law of God alone, they would be infuriated by the world around us, with its blatant disregard for any form of law. John Doe is a Christian extremist, a terrorist for the name of Christianity. It is strange to be presented with a religious terrorist that comes from my own faith. Normally, it's easy to excuse and separate (at least, for other people) when it's someone who claims to be Muslim or something different than themselves. But John Doe is on us.
And Doe's problem is that he desired sacrifice, not mercy. He wanted to purify these people, the world of its dirtiness. But God doesn't work that way. When Jesus came, he did not kill those who were committing terrible crimes or life-altering sins--he ate with them, he talked to them, he chose to be with them when everyone else drew boundaries and didn't dare cross them. Jesus saw the human inside the body, he looked deep enough to know that there was a reason why they were doing these things. He never wrote people off as "prostitutes," or "thieves," or anything else. He saw them as people.
That is where John Doe failed to be like Christ. He took his anger at humanity and threw it back in the form of grotesque torture and violence, all the while thinking he was doing the work of God. But he was terribly mistaken. Instead of killing the obese man, he could have looked closer (American Beauty shoutout) to see why the man was eating his life away. Was he hurting? Was he lonely? All actions have stimuli. John Doe wasn't willing to find them.
I wondered why people wanted to see "Seven." It operates on the same principles that the Saw series does: a man sees people abusing their lives and makes them pay for it, and audiences get to watch/enjoy the punishments he inflicts. Why is it that we love to watch people getting tortured? Why do we love to see violence of outlandish nature? Is it the shock value, the nature of the act is so foreign that our curiosity and conscience is piqued?
David Fincher is no stranger to violence, and I can't blame him--shooting violence is fun. I recently shot a short film with the guys in my hall, and in one scene, a guy is strangled to death. The victim and assailant go around the room, fighting one another, knocking over a lamp and other things. And as I watched it, I was impressed by the realness of it. And when I show it to people, they are impressed for the same reason. It makes the film seem better when we destroy things. Maybe that's what David Fincher thinks to, and the things he destroys are people.
And Doe's problem is that he desired sacrifice, not mercy. He wanted to purify these people, the world of its dirtiness. But God doesn't work that way. When Jesus came, he did not kill those who were committing terrible crimes or life-altering sins--he ate with them, he talked to them, he chose to be with them when everyone else drew boundaries and didn't dare cross them. Jesus saw the human inside the body, he looked deep enough to know that there was a reason why they were doing these things. He never wrote people off as "prostitutes," or "thieves," or anything else. He saw them as people.
That is where John Doe failed to be like Christ. He took his anger at humanity and threw it back in the form of grotesque torture and violence, all the while thinking he was doing the work of God. But he was terribly mistaken. Instead of killing the obese man, he could have looked closer (American Beauty shoutout) to see why the man was eating his life away. Was he hurting? Was he lonely? All actions have stimuli. John Doe wasn't willing to find them.
I wondered why people wanted to see "Seven." It operates on the same principles that the Saw series does: a man sees people abusing their lives and makes them pay for it, and audiences get to watch/enjoy the punishments he inflicts. Why is it that we love to watch people getting tortured? Why do we love to see violence of outlandish nature? Is it the shock value, the nature of the act is so foreign that our curiosity and conscience is piqued?
David Fincher is no stranger to violence, and I can't blame him--shooting violence is fun. I recently shot a short film with the guys in my hall, and in one scene, a guy is strangled to death. The victim and assailant go around the room, fighting one another, knocking over a lamp and other things. And as I watched it, I was impressed by the realness of it. And when I show it to people, they are impressed for the same reason. It makes the film seem better when we destroy things. Maybe that's what David Fincher thinks to, and the things he destroys are people.
Children Of Men
Yesterday, I watched "Children of Men" with a few of my friends in the dorm. I had heard mixed hype about this film; Peter Travers said it was the second best film of the decade, but Jordan Boboltz (a girl from my high school) said it was not very good. Equally reputable critics indeed.
I try to think of themes from the film, but I can't come up with many. What stands out more than anything is the absolutely gorgeous camera work. The whole film is shot in the steady-cam style, shaking as it runs behind Clive Owen and such, and it was the perfect choice of style. It fits right in with the tone of this dystopian film, and if the camera were any smoother, it would have just felt wrong.
One scene in particular blew my mind: it is early in the film when Theo has just met Key, and the group is riding in a car. The whole scene is shot in the car, but the camera rotates and turns to each character in the car, as if the car has no roof and there's a tripod in the middle of the car. It's absolutely brilliant, and I've never seen anything like it. I learned that the crew developed a special rig so that the camera operator, the film director, the cinematographer, and one other person sat on top of the car, and the camera was hanging into the car and could rotate 360 degrees. The actors had choreography in which they would lean their chairs back and forth depending on the position of the camera. But you could never tell--they pulled it off flawlessly.
Another beautiful shot is when Theo and Julian step out of the van that held Theo captive, and they walk into this gigantic warehouse looking building to talk. The conversation ends, and there's a shot of Julian talking to Theo as he walks away that simply tracks away from her, but for some reason, it stuck out to me.
That is the main thing I will remember about this film. The way it was shot is something I will go back to when I need cinematography inspiration.
As for ideas I can apply to my life, I can't really think of any. One seemingly insignificant man decides to risk his life to save the only hope humanity has for continued existence. That's the story. There is a scene when the baby starts crying and everyone stops fighting that is interesting. No one had seen a baby in decades, and when they do, their anger and rage subside to their unavoidable awe. Maybe the filmmakers were trying to say that respect for life is the only thing that can end wars. That those fighting for political power or international domination or unsettled hatred can no longer fight when they recognize the humanity all around them, be it in the houses on the street they are patrolling, or at the end of the street in the faces of their enemies.
Overall, the film was entertaining, but for me, it became a film textbook which I can study in the future.
I try to think of themes from the film, but I can't come up with many. What stands out more than anything is the absolutely gorgeous camera work. The whole film is shot in the steady-cam style, shaking as it runs behind Clive Owen and such, and it was the perfect choice of style. It fits right in with the tone of this dystopian film, and if the camera were any smoother, it would have just felt wrong.
One scene in particular blew my mind: it is early in the film when Theo has just met Key, and the group is riding in a car. The whole scene is shot in the car, but the camera rotates and turns to each character in the car, as if the car has no roof and there's a tripod in the middle of the car. It's absolutely brilliant, and I've never seen anything like it. I learned that the crew developed a special rig so that the camera operator, the film director, the cinematographer, and one other person sat on top of the car, and the camera was hanging into the car and could rotate 360 degrees. The actors had choreography in which they would lean their chairs back and forth depending on the position of the camera. But you could never tell--they pulled it off flawlessly.
Another beautiful shot is when Theo and Julian step out of the van that held Theo captive, and they walk into this gigantic warehouse looking building to talk. The conversation ends, and there's a shot of Julian talking to Theo as he walks away that simply tracks away from her, but for some reason, it stuck out to me.
That is the main thing I will remember about this film. The way it was shot is something I will go back to when I need cinematography inspiration.
As for ideas I can apply to my life, I can't really think of any. One seemingly insignificant man decides to risk his life to save the only hope humanity has for continued existence. That's the story. There is a scene when the baby starts crying and everyone stops fighting that is interesting. No one had seen a baby in decades, and when they do, their anger and rage subside to their unavoidable awe. Maybe the filmmakers were trying to say that respect for life is the only thing that can end wars. That those fighting for political power or international domination or unsettled hatred can no longer fight when they recognize the humanity all around them, be it in the houses on the street they are patrolling, or at the end of the street in the faces of their enemies.
Overall, the film was entertaining, but for me, it became a film textbook which I can study in the future.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Peace
What do you do to find peace? And what is peace?
For me, peace is not caring about the thoughts of other people, particularly the ones that pertain to me. Peace is not having to put up the character that I call myself, but being allowed to act as I want to, not how I want my character to be seen. Peace is finding that the things that trouble me no longer trouble me, and I can be content to sit and be.
I wish I could always feel this way, but I'm certain that when I wake up, I'll be wearing my old rags, the thrill of this royal ball called peace that I'm at right now will be gone, and the character will be resurrected and put on display. At least now, I know what my glass slipper is, and how I can get it whenever I need to.
For me, peace is not caring about the thoughts of other people, particularly the ones that pertain to me. Peace is not having to put up the character that I call myself, but being allowed to act as I want to, not how I want my character to be seen. Peace is finding that the things that trouble me no longer trouble me, and I can be content to sit and be.
I wish I could always feel this way, but I'm certain that when I wake up, I'll be wearing my old rags, the thrill of this royal ball called peace that I'm at right now will be gone, and the character will be resurrected and put on display. At least now, I know what my glass slipper is, and how I can get it whenever I need to.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Conditions Pt. 1
This post is gibberish. I listened to the first 4 songs of The Temper Trap album "Conditions" and wrote whatever it made me think of.
.......
Running as fast as I can only gets me further into unknown territory.
Running and spinning running and spinning. I cannot stop, I cannot stop.
Running and spinning, running and spinning. I. Can't. Feel. My. Heart.
Lost, lost, lost, lost. Love lost.
Slow down until you see a crowd. You. Have. Arrived.
.....
Grab her hand. Let's go.
Come on! Let's go!
We're smiling as we run. We're going somewhere, but no one else knows where.
Turn. Run. Turn. Run. Turn. Run.
We exit the building and look around. Camera spins. What do we do?
GO!
Through the parking lot, over the hill, we're going.
We can breath easily, even though we're sprinting. Can you see me smiling?
We don't have a destination--running is the end. We run forever, but never tire.
Are you ready?
A moment of love, and we go and go.
How can I feel this good? How can you?
We are...here.
......
Dancing around, really cool. Turn, turn. Turn turn.
Jumping up and down, we're at a concert, we're living life.
Nothing else matters except the way we feel, and we feel full of life.
Strut. Strut. Strut.
WOOOO!
You and me and you and me and you and me.
The end of a movie, it's all wrapping up as we dance forever.
Around and around and around and around.
.........
Whisper. Whisper. Something nice. Whisper. Are we going to get out? Yes. Right now.
Running. Running.
Doing cool things together. We're subdued, because we're cool, and we know it. We like ourselves when we listen to music like this.
Ooooooh.
........
.......
Running as fast as I can only gets me further into unknown territory.
Running and spinning running and spinning. I cannot stop, I cannot stop.
Running and spinning, running and spinning. I. Can't. Feel. My. Heart.
Lost, lost, lost, lost. Love lost.
Slow down until you see a crowd. You. Have. Arrived.
.....
Grab her hand. Let's go.
Come on! Let's go!
We're smiling as we run. We're going somewhere, but no one else knows where.
Turn. Run. Turn. Run. Turn. Run.
We exit the building and look around. Camera spins. What do we do?
GO!
Through the parking lot, over the hill, we're going.
We can breath easily, even though we're sprinting. Can you see me smiling?
We don't have a destination--running is the end. We run forever, but never tire.
Are you ready?
A moment of love, and we go and go.
How can I feel this good? How can you?
We are...here.
......
Dancing around, really cool. Turn, turn. Turn turn.
Jumping up and down, we're at a concert, we're living life.
Nothing else matters except the way we feel, and we feel full of life.
Strut. Strut. Strut.
WOOOO!
You and me and you and me and you and me.
The end of a movie, it's all wrapping up as we dance forever.
Around and around and around and around.
.........
Whisper. Whisper. Something nice. Whisper. Are we going to get out? Yes. Right now.
Running. Running.
Doing cool things together. We're subdued, because we're cool, and we know it. We like ourselves when we listen to music like this.
Ooooooh.
........
Psychology Love
After my second Psychology class, I am sure that I want to double major in it.
Dr. Beck showed us a Candid Camera clip from the 60's where both male and female students (two at a time, the same gender) met their "new teacher," an extremely attractive person, the opposite gender of the pair of students. After a few minutes, the teacher was called away, and we observed that the students, both male and female, laughed almost uncontrollably. The purpose for us watching this video was to ask why the students were laughing. It's a strange occurrence. And that is what Psychology is--observing and questioning human behavior. I love it.
Another example Beck told us about was the Good Samaritan Experiment. Researchers went to a seminary school and used the students as the test subjects. The subjects were told they had a class in some room, but "technological difficulties" forced the class to be moved to a different building across campus. The way to the other building was a narrow path outside, one that lead the students to the independent variable, a person sprawled out on the ground, papers everywhere and whatnot. The subjects had to walk past the person to get to the other building. But it gets more interesting. Some of the subjects had been told that the subject of the class was on the story of the good Samaritan, so the idea was fresh on their minds as they passed the person in need. Also, some of the subjects were told that the class was in an hour, and others were told it was starting right away. The researchers had three hypotheses: that all of the seminary students would stop and help; that the ones told that the class was about the good Samaritan would help, and that those who were told that the class was in an hour would help. The result was that those who were told that the class was in an hour were the most likely to help the person in need.
Beck pointed out that what this indicates is that most people view Christianity as a hobby, because a hobby is something you do in your spare time. But Christianity, Beck retorted, should hurt. It should interfere in your life.
I think most Christians would not stop and help, because it is inconvenient. And I don't want to be a part of that kind of religion. I want to be a part of the religion that helps the dirty, the friendless, the socially awkward, the outcasts. If Christianity requires people to be inconvenienced, then I want to be a part of it.
Dr. Beck showed us a Candid Camera clip from the 60's where both male and female students (two at a time, the same gender) met their "new teacher," an extremely attractive person, the opposite gender of the pair of students. After a few minutes, the teacher was called away, and we observed that the students, both male and female, laughed almost uncontrollably. The purpose for us watching this video was to ask why the students were laughing. It's a strange occurrence. And that is what Psychology is--observing and questioning human behavior. I love it.
Another example Beck told us about was the Good Samaritan Experiment. Researchers went to a seminary school and used the students as the test subjects. The subjects were told they had a class in some room, but "technological difficulties" forced the class to be moved to a different building across campus. The way to the other building was a narrow path outside, one that lead the students to the independent variable, a person sprawled out on the ground, papers everywhere and whatnot. The subjects had to walk past the person to get to the other building. But it gets more interesting. Some of the subjects had been told that the subject of the class was on the story of the good Samaritan, so the idea was fresh on their minds as they passed the person in need. Also, some of the subjects were told that the class was in an hour, and others were told it was starting right away. The researchers had three hypotheses: that all of the seminary students would stop and help; that the ones told that the class was about the good Samaritan would help, and that those who were told that the class was in an hour would help. The result was that those who were told that the class was in an hour were the most likely to help the person in need.
Beck pointed out that what this indicates is that most people view Christianity as a hobby, because a hobby is something you do in your spare time. But Christianity, Beck retorted, should hurt. It should interfere in your life.
I think most Christians would not stop and help, because it is inconvenient. And I don't want to be a part of that kind of religion. I want to be a part of the religion that helps the dirty, the friendless, the socially awkward, the outcasts. If Christianity requires people to be inconvenienced, then I want to be a part of it.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Death, Life, and Slacklining
I was reading Dr. Beck's blog (the only other blog I read besides my own) and, as he discussed Christian art pertaining to death, I stumbled across the Latin phrase "memento mori." Beck said the phrase can be translated either "remember you are mortal," or "remember you will die." The latter of the translations is the one that stuck out to me, because I think it is common to live our lives in ways that help us forget that we are going to die. We don't think about it often; only at funerals and sad movies and when someone famous dies.
Why do we not think about dying? For one, it's the end of life that we know. We know about earth, how we take in oxygen, how to drive on a road, how to read a book. But when we die, we know essentially nothing about how life is going to be lived. Will we need oxygen? Will we have eyes? Will we walk places or have some other form of transportation? The questions are endless. Dying takes us to a place that we know nothing about, and that is frightening.
Secondly, we don't think about death because often, it is painful. People die in car crashes and by drowning and being trapped in burning or collapsing buildings. Maybe people believe that if you think about the painful ways you can die, one will serendipitously die one of those ways. A different and more likely explanation is that thinking about people dying in painful ways makes a person sad. It is heartbreaking to hear about the excruciating ways that people's lives have ended. And people don't like to be sad, so they don't think about it.
It makes sense for people not to think about dying if death is the end all, the final stage in life. But if death was viewed as just another experience (albeit a rather important one), another step in the walk of life, it would change the way we thought about it. For Christians, Christ promised that there is everlasting life for those who love Him. And most people believe there is going to be no more pain or sorrow or suffering in that life. So, for Christians, death should almost be viewed as an anticipated event. Think about it--a life of never feeling lonely or awkward or depressed or betrayed or unloved is beyond anything we can understand, yet desire more than anything. We want what is promised on the other side of Death's door.
It's a strange dichotomy to anticipate what most people fear. Because for most people, this life is all we have. One who is not religious has no promise of life after death, so it would make sense for them to try and enjoy this life as much as they can. I now understand the train of thought behind "Garden State," where the main character views death as the end and decides that he has to live it up while he's still alive. To me, that's more depressing than death, the idea that our ride on the merry-go-round only lasts one quarter's worth, then we're done.
Memento mori provides me with a heavy amount of perspective. It makes me concentrate on my finiteness, which in turn makes me consider the way that I'm living my life. If I only have a certain number of days, then I consider the importance of what I do (making short films, reading books, etc.). These activities give me purpose when I don't think about death. To contemplate on a cliched line from "Gladiator," does what I do in this life echo in eternity? Is slacklining and geocaching and making short films worthless on the scale of eternal significance?
To answer that question, it is important to ask two questions: why am I doing it, and what am I doing with it? Why do I slackline, and what does my participation in slacklining do for me, as well as for others? In the fascinating book Born To Run, the author finds that one cannot see running as a means to an end ("a better body, a cute butt," whatever), but running itself must be the end in order to keep it in one's life. If you run to get in shape, most likely you will eventually tire of it (if not come to hate it) and stop. But if you run for the love of running, the love of the contact of your foot and the ground, the love of the pain in your calves and lungs; then, you will never get tired of it, you will never stop. I think that is spiritual, a love for something. It has to be. "Every good and perfect gift comes from above," the Bible says--tell me that slacklining is not a good and perfect gift.Therefore, I think that doing things you love is not a waste of time, because it was blessed by God. I think that the things we do in our lives because in some way, they connect with some deep part of us, are worthy of the hours that make up our limited days. And maybe heaven will be a place where we get to do these things forever, with God watching us face to face.
All I know for sure is, if I ever get a tattoo, it will say memento mori.
Why do we not think about dying? For one, it's the end of life that we know. We know about earth, how we take in oxygen, how to drive on a road, how to read a book. But when we die, we know essentially nothing about how life is going to be lived. Will we need oxygen? Will we have eyes? Will we walk places or have some other form of transportation? The questions are endless. Dying takes us to a place that we know nothing about, and that is frightening.
Secondly, we don't think about death because often, it is painful. People die in car crashes and by drowning and being trapped in burning or collapsing buildings. Maybe people believe that if you think about the painful ways you can die, one will serendipitously die one of those ways. A different and more likely explanation is that thinking about people dying in painful ways makes a person sad. It is heartbreaking to hear about the excruciating ways that people's lives have ended. And people don't like to be sad, so they don't think about it.
It makes sense for people not to think about dying if death is the end all, the final stage in life. But if death was viewed as just another experience (albeit a rather important one), another step in the walk of life, it would change the way we thought about it. For Christians, Christ promised that there is everlasting life for those who love Him. And most people believe there is going to be no more pain or sorrow or suffering in that life. So, for Christians, death should almost be viewed as an anticipated event. Think about it--a life of never feeling lonely or awkward or depressed or betrayed or unloved is beyond anything we can understand, yet desire more than anything. We want what is promised on the other side of Death's door.
It's a strange dichotomy to anticipate what most people fear. Because for most people, this life is all we have. One who is not religious has no promise of life after death, so it would make sense for them to try and enjoy this life as much as they can. I now understand the train of thought behind "Garden State," where the main character views death as the end and decides that he has to live it up while he's still alive. To me, that's more depressing than death, the idea that our ride on the merry-go-round only lasts one quarter's worth, then we're done.
Memento mori provides me with a heavy amount of perspective. It makes me concentrate on my finiteness, which in turn makes me consider the way that I'm living my life. If I only have a certain number of days, then I consider the importance of what I do (making short films, reading books, etc.). These activities give me purpose when I don't think about death. To contemplate on a cliched line from "Gladiator," does what I do in this life echo in eternity? Is slacklining and geocaching and making short films worthless on the scale of eternal significance?
To answer that question, it is important to ask two questions: why am I doing it, and what am I doing with it? Why do I slackline, and what does my participation in slacklining do for me, as well as for others? In the fascinating book Born To Run, the author finds that one cannot see running as a means to an end ("a better body, a cute butt," whatever), but running itself must be the end in order to keep it in one's life. If you run to get in shape, most likely you will eventually tire of it (if not come to hate it) and stop. But if you run for the love of running, the love of the contact of your foot and the ground, the love of the pain in your calves and lungs; then, you will never get tired of it, you will never stop. I think that is spiritual, a love for something. It has to be. "Every good and perfect gift comes from above," the Bible says--tell me that slacklining is not a good and perfect gift.Therefore, I think that doing things you love is not a waste of time, because it was blessed by God. I think that the things we do in our lives because in some way, they connect with some deep part of us, are worthy of the hours that make up our limited days. And maybe heaven will be a place where we get to do these things forever, with God watching us face to face.
All I know for sure is, if I ever get a tattoo, it will say memento mori.
Cornerstone
Today I went to the first Cornerstone session in Cullen Auditorium. My Psychology professor, Dr. Richard Beck, was the speaker of the week. Beck gave a speech that brought excitement to my mind when I think about the class.
Beck discussed the question of "can you love the sinner, but hate the sin?" He brought two students on stage for an illustration. For the first illustration, he had one student conjure up saliva in her mouth as if she were going to spit it out, but then swallow it. She did that with no problem. Then, he had her spit in a cup, and asked if she could swallow the spit. Of course, the girl said she would not. For the second experiment, he asked the student if she would eat a regular apple. Then, he touched a piece of dog feces to the apple and asked if she would eat it then. She said no. What Beck was illustrating was negativity dominance--something good, when it comes into contact with something bad, will turn bad. He related this to the story of Jesus, when Jesus is eating with tax collectors. Pharisees see him and are shocked. Jesus responds by quoting a passage in Hosea that says "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."
Everyone understands the mercy part of this saying, but the sacrifice part is a little bit different. Dr. Beck defined sacrifice as preserving purity at all costs. He said that the Pharisees had set up a "spiritual quarantine, and [refused] to cross the tracks and love people." And, with the illustration, Dr. Beck pointed out that what the Pharisees were doing made psychological sense. If you associate with the bad, the unclean, the sinners, then you will inevitably become that way yourself. But throughout Jesus' life, he showed the Pharisees and the world that one can overcome negativity dominance with love. And that is our goal, as Christians; to allow the love of Christ to affect others in such a way that we are the influence, not the world.
Beck's speech made me feel intellectually invigorated and challenged, and I felt that I am going to learn a lot from the Cornerstone class, develop a deeper way of thinking, and enjoy the class greatly.
Beck discussed the question of "can you love the sinner, but hate the sin?" He brought two students on stage for an illustration. For the first illustration, he had one student conjure up saliva in her mouth as if she were going to spit it out, but then swallow it. She did that with no problem. Then, he had her spit in a cup, and asked if she could swallow the spit. Of course, the girl said she would not. For the second experiment, he asked the student if she would eat a regular apple. Then, he touched a piece of dog feces to the apple and asked if she would eat it then. She said no. What Beck was illustrating was negativity dominance--something good, when it comes into contact with something bad, will turn bad. He related this to the story of Jesus, when Jesus is eating with tax collectors. Pharisees see him and are shocked. Jesus responds by quoting a passage in Hosea that says "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."
Everyone understands the mercy part of this saying, but the sacrifice part is a little bit different. Dr. Beck defined sacrifice as preserving purity at all costs. He said that the Pharisees had set up a "spiritual quarantine, and [refused] to cross the tracks and love people." And, with the illustration, Dr. Beck pointed out that what the Pharisees were doing made psychological sense. If you associate with the bad, the unclean, the sinners, then you will inevitably become that way yourself. But throughout Jesus' life, he showed the Pharisees and the world that one can overcome negativity dominance with love. And that is our goal, as Christians; to allow the love of Christ to affect others in such a way that we are the influence, not the world.
Beck's speech made me feel intellectually invigorated and challenged, and I felt that I am going to learn a lot from the Cornerstone class, develop a deeper way of thinking, and enjoy the class greatly.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Big Time, Except Not
Note: This blog was started on Monday, but not published until today.
.....
Today has contained so much stuff. I'll start from the beginning.
I woke up, went to breakfast with some friends, and headed off to my first class, Media Issues. The class was awkward, because no one sat on the front row or answered the professors questions. I think the class will be good, we just have to get over the initial beginning slump. Maybe that's how all new things are in life.
Next, I raced back to my dorm, changed into black dress pants and polo and grabbed the video equipment that the JMC gave me, and I went to Moody Coliseum and filmed the Inauguration of our 11th president of ACU.
Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that.
Well, on the Thursday of Welcome Week, we had a department dinner at Betty Rose's. The faculty member sponsoring each student group (the Optimist, Ad/PR stuff, etc) stood up, gave a short shpeel, and encouraged anyone who was interested in their program to come talk to them. A teacher named Cade White stood up and said, if anyone wants to be a full time videographer, come talk to him. Of course, I was interested. I gave him my contact information, and that was that.
Then, on Sunday afternoon, I got a text from a guy that works with Cade that said "meet me and Cade at the JMC at 3." I went, sat around for a bit while they filmed the ACU News broadcast, and then talked to Cade. He got right down to it--he asked me if I wanted to shoot the inauguration on Monday. I said sure, of course I would! So he gave me a camera (Canon AH X1), a tripod, and a wireless mic. As I thought about the shoot throughout the rest of the day, I got nervous. What if I mess up? What if I don't get any good shots? What if everybody stares at me? What if I fail? These questions kept creeping up in my head again and again. I decided it would be best to familiarize myself with the camera, so I grabbed it and a load of laundry and made my way over to Uncle Jim's house.
We messed around with the camera until I felt comfortable, and then we came up with the idea of filming me talk about my first week of school, so I ran back to the dorm, grabbed my camera, and we filmed that. During this night of filming, I communicated my nervousness about the shoot to Uncle Jim. He reminded me that life without risks won't see desired rewards. To take risks involves chance, but it often provides results that overshadow the possibility of failure. That made me feel better about the shoot.
So, back to today. I changed clothes and went to Moody, and was instructed to get random shots before it started. Then, right before it began, I set my tripod up on the platform of the stairs that lead to the high seats. And I shot the whole processional. I realized during the shoot that I was relaxed and wasn't nervous. I concluded that shooting makes me at ease. Maybe that's an indicator that I was made to do fim. Or maybe not.
I think that's all that happened on Monday; however, I can't remember because it's Wednesday. But I think that's a pretty big deal, to have the job of filming the first day of school, on your first day of school, as a freshman.
.....
Today has contained so much stuff. I'll start from the beginning.
I woke up, went to breakfast with some friends, and headed off to my first class, Media Issues. The class was awkward, because no one sat on the front row or answered the professors questions. I think the class will be good, we just have to get over the initial beginning slump. Maybe that's how all new things are in life.
Next, I raced back to my dorm, changed into black dress pants and polo and grabbed the video equipment that the JMC gave me, and I went to Moody Coliseum and filmed the Inauguration of our 11th president of ACU.
Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that.
Well, on the Thursday of Welcome Week, we had a department dinner at Betty Rose's. The faculty member sponsoring each student group (the Optimist, Ad/PR stuff, etc) stood up, gave a short shpeel, and encouraged anyone who was interested in their program to come talk to them. A teacher named Cade White stood up and said, if anyone wants to be a full time videographer, come talk to him. Of course, I was interested. I gave him my contact information, and that was that.
Then, on Sunday afternoon, I got a text from a guy that works with Cade that said "meet me and Cade at the JMC at 3." I went, sat around for a bit while they filmed the ACU News broadcast, and then talked to Cade. He got right down to it--he asked me if I wanted to shoot the inauguration on Monday. I said sure, of course I would! So he gave me a camera (Canon AH X1), a tripod, and a wireless mic. As I thought about the shoot throughout the rest of the day, I got nervous. What if I mess up? What if I don't get any good shots? What if everybody stares at me? What if I fail? These questions kept creeping up in my head again and again. I decided it would be best to familiarize myself with the camera, so I grabbed it and a load of laundry and made my way over to Uncle Jim's house.
We messed around with the camera until I felt comfortable, and then we came up with the idea of filming me talk about my first week of school, so I ran back to the dorm, grabbed my camera, and we filmed that. During this night of filming, I communicated my nervousness about the shoot to Uncle Jim. He reminded me that life without risks won't see desired rewards. To take risks involves chance, but it often provides results that overshadow the possibility of failure. That made me feel better about the shoot.
So, back to today. I changed clothes and went to Moody, and was instructed to get random shots before it started. Then, right before it began, I set my tripod up on the platform of the stairs that lead to the high seats. And I shot the whole processional. I realized during the shoot that I was relaxed and wasn't nervous. I concluded that shooting makes me at ease. Maybe that's an indicator that I was made to do fim. Or maybe not.
I think that's all that happened on Monday; however, I can't remember because it's Wednesday. But I think that's a pretty big deal, to have the job of filming the first day of school, on your first day of school, as a freshman.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Beginning of School
I'm about to start college tomorrow! I just imagined myself in a classroom, listening to the professor, pulling out my computer; you know, all the typical college class stuff. I can't wait. I'm excited to learn about stuff I'm interested in...and to have so much free time between classes.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Let Go
Am I too self centered? Am I too immature in what I think? Do I only concern myself with my feelings and problems?
Yes.
........
I have to move on. I have to move on. It's not healthy to hang on to the past, to try and keep people in my mind the way they were when I was happiest. I need to find another way to be happy. Come on. You can do it. Let go. Let go. Let go. You can do it. Just don't think about it, and it will fade out of your memory as it faded out of reality. Make a new life. Make one that was better than that one. Is that possible? It has to be. Otherwise what's the point of anything? You can do it. Come on. Please.
Please.
Yes.
........
I have to move on. I have to move on. It's not healthy to hang on to the past, to try and keep people in my mind the way they were when I was happiest. I need to find another way to be happy. Come on. You can do it. Let go. Let go. Let go. You can do it. Just don't think about it, and it will fade out of your memory as it faded out of reality. Make a new life. Make one that was better than that one. Is that possible? It has to be. Otherwise what's the point of anything? You can do it. Come on. Please.
Please.
The Thoughts of the Still
I can't write with music on. I just learned that, because I tried to write while listening to Arcade Fire, but I couldn't form a cohesive sentence. I don't do that anyway, but I like to think I do.
.........
Numb, my head is, and vomit threatens to rise through my
throat.
If I could only feel the air from my house when I was young,
If I could look out the neglected window with the same ambivalence,
If I could hear my sister coming through the door that she no longer opens,
If I could meet all my friends who have gone away at the church where we used to be blissfully unaware of everything but our feelings,
If I could find the boy who plays tennis and is scared of juniors and likes to laugh and is content with himself and ignores the future and knows not of his days ahead.
If I could go back, I would. Would the happiest time in your life not make you yearn with unquenchable sadness for the days that held it, that fleeting span of life that lasted forever but will never again be seen? Only in the eyes of those who remember does the past still gleam.
.........
I have concluded that deep down, I am sad. I forget about it when activities distract me and life is so quick that I don't have time to evaluate myself. But when I sit still, I find the familiar, stinging sadness about a life that is now lost and the new, foreign life that replaced it. I have been in mourning over the death of my previous life for two years. And I don't know how to move on. How do you move on? Do you let go? Let go of all the friends, all the memories, all the places that once were the center of your happiness?
My happiness was rooted in something that no longer exists. That is why I am sad. I haven't found something else in which I can derive my joy. My upbringing keeps screaming at me that God is the only place one should rely on for happiness. But I instantly reject that notion, out of habit, because it is too cliche for me to try. I assume it might be true, but I irrationally run from it because I want to find happiness on my own, whether it be in God or something else. I want to find God because I found him, not because my parents walked me to His front door. I want to have a reason to love Him. Right now, I don't, at least, not one that I can found a relationship on. Maybe the fact that I live in America, the richest nation in the world, should make me thankful enough to love God; or, maybe that I was raised in a loving home with parents who worked on their marriage and stuck with it; any of those reasons should be enough--but for some reason, they don't work for me. I'm a selfish, narcissistic child, I know, but those reasons don't motivate me to love God. I hate it, but they don't.
.........
Numb, my head is, and vomit threatens to rise through my
throat.
If I could only feel the air from my house when I was young,
If I could look out the neglected window with the same ambivalence,
If I could hear my sister coming through the door that she no longer opens,
If I could meet all my friends who have gone away at the church where we used to be blissfully unaware of everything but our feelings,
If I could find the boy who plays tennis and is scared of juniors and likes to laugh and is content with himself and ignores the future and knows not of his days ahead.
If I could go back, I would. Would the happiest time in your life not make you yearn with unquenchable sadness for the days that held it, that fleeting span of life that lasted forever but will never again be seen? Only in the eyes of those who remember does the past still gleam.
.........
I have concluded that deep down, I am sad. I forget about it when activities distract me and life is so quick that I don't have time to evaluate myself. But when I sit still, I find the familiar, stinging sadness about a life that is now lost and the new, foreign life that replaced it. I have been in mourning over the death of my previous life for two years. And I don't know how to move on. How do you move on? Do you let go? Let go of all the friends, all the memories, all the places that once were the center of your happiness?
My happiness was rooted in something that no longer exists. That is why I am sad. I haven't found something else in which I can derive my joy. My upbringing keeps screaming at me that God is the only place one should rely on for happiness. But I instantly reject that notion, out of habit, because it is too cliche for me to try. I assume it might be true, but I irrationally run from it because I want to find happiness on my own, whether it be in God or something else. I want to find God because I found him, not because my parents walked me to His front door. I want to have a reason to love Him. Right now, I don't, at least, not one that I can found a relationship on. Maybe the fact that I live in America, the richest nation in the world, should make me thankful enough to love God; or, maybe that I was raised in a loving home with parents who worked on their marriage and stuck with it; any of those reasons should be enough--but for some reason, they don't work for me. I'm a selfish, narcissistic child, I know, but those reasons don't motivate me to love God. I hate it, but they don't.
A Coffee House and Identity
Today I went to Monks and listened to a guy play his electric guitar for an audience of about 15. The atmosphere was casual and chill, with the scattered couches, tables, and chairs all around the shop. The guy working the counter would periodically go sit at a table with a girl. Very chill.
The guitarist was better than the average player, but he was an excellent song writer. At the end of his set, he played two original songs, and, while I can only vividly remember one of them, they were really good. The song I can remember talks about the singer as he struggles with his relationship with God and his relationship with a girlfriend/wife/lover. The song hinges around the chorus as he sings that "if I were precious cargo, you would have cradled my head." Sorrow and regret filled the room at the end of the song as the singer stepped away from the mike and just sang the end at the top of his lungs, sort of off key but not caring, because the words were so powerful that they had to be said, and they had to be said that way. I wondered how I could get my hands on a copy of that song, how I could possess it, but then I realized that I was focusing more on obtaining the song than enjoying it. So I decided to let the song play in my memory of the night, like an uncultivated horse, running free over the hills and valleys of my mind.
Mihir had come to hear the concert, but his night was interrupted when he met a homeless man on the street who talked his ear off, and later mine as well. Although he told me, I cannot remember his name (I think it was something like Maximus). He told us about his life, in detail, and Mihir came to the conclusion that homeless people talk to themselves because no one else is willing to listen. When someone actually does listen, then (at least for Maximus) it's like Christmas. Mihir bought him several water bottles, and we talked with him for about 20 minutes. As we walked away, I wondered if that was enough, if we could have done more for him. But that was all we could do, at least right then.
Mihir and I hung out the rest of the night. We were sitting on the curb by the Paramount, and a movie had just gotten out, so all the cars were leaving and subsequently stopping at the stop sign right in front of us. I get nervous when people stop because I'm scared they'll yell at me or throw something. Mihir said that wasn't normal. I concluded that I cared too much about what others think of me. Mihir said the only way to overcome that is to "not give a shit," he said as he closed his car door and drove away. Is that really it? You don't care what other people think at all?
It's worth a shot. Cuz I'm tired of caring what everyone thinks, all the time.
I really do that. I depend on what the people in the car next to me could possibly be thinking. I care what everyone thinks. And it's infuriating. I can't be who I want to be because I'm too worried that it will not be liked by someone. Fuck that. I need to be who I want to be, and the people who like him are the people worth caring about.
I realize all this "be who you want to be" talk sounds like a Disney channel song, like an immature teenager trying to be an individual. Well, that's kind of what it is, minus Walt. I am an immature teenager trying to be an individual. So what?
Trying to find out who I am is really difficult.
The guitarist was better than the average player, but he was an excellent song writer. At the end of his set, he played two original songs, and, while I can only vividly remember one of them, they were really good. The song I can remember talks about the singer as he struggles with his relationship with God and his relationship with a girlfriend/wife/lover. The song hinges around the chorus as he sings that "if I were precious cargo, you would have cradled my head." Sorrow and regret filled the room at the end of the song as the singer stepped away from the mike and just sang the end at the top of his lungs, sort of off key but not caring, because the words were so powerful that they had to be said, and they had to be said that way. I wondered how I could get my hands on a copy of that song, how I could possess it, but then I realized that I was focusing more on obtaining the song than enjoying it. So I decided to let the song play in my memory of the night, like an uncultivated horse, running free over the hills and valleys of my mind.
Mihir had come to hear the concert, but his night was interrupted when he met a homeless man on the street who talked his ear off, and later mine as well. Although he told me, I cannot remember his name (I think it was something like Maximus). He told us about his life, in detail, and Mihir came to the conclusion that homeless people talk to themselves because no one else is willing to listen. When someone actually does listen, then (at least for Maximus) it's like Christmas. Mihir bought him several water bottles, and we talked with him for about 20 minutes. As we walked away, I wondered if that was enough, if we could have done more for him. But that was all we could do, at least right then.
Mihir and I hung out the rest of the night. We were sitting on the curb by the Paramount, and a movie had just gotten out, so all the cars were leaving and subsequently stopping at the stop sign right in front of us. I get nervous when people stop because I'm scared they'll yell at me or throw something. Mihir said that wasn't normal. I concluded that I cared too much about what others think of me. Mihir said the only way to overcome that is to "not give a shit," he said as he closed his car door and drove away. Is that really it? You don't care what other people think at all?
It's worth a shot. Cuz I'm tired of caring what everyone thinks, all the time.
I really do that. I depend on what the people in the car next to me could possibly be thinking. I care what everyone thinks. And it's infuriating. I can't be who I want to be because I'm too worried that it will not be liked by someone. Fuck that. I need to be who I want to be, and the people who like him are the people worth caring about.
I realize all this "be who you want to be" talk sounds like a Disney channel song, like an immature teenager trying to be an individual. Well, that's kind of what it is, minus Walt. I am an immature teenager trying to be an individual. So what?
Trying to find out who I am is really difficult.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Rekindled Pain
I got on my sister's facebook today to look around at people I care about. Stupid decision.
You are the reason I don't have a facebook.
It hurts too much to see you and know that you're okay with how we are now. I didn't think it would hurt, but it still does.
You are the reason I don't have a facebook.
It hurts too much to see you and know that you're okay with how we are now. I didn't think it would hurt, but it still does.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Rambling
Writing is my solace. Whenever I feel uncomfortable or anxious or unsure, I write and feel better.
But now, in the words of Julian Casablancas, "I got nothing to say."
..........
I heard a song today that made me embarrassed for the artist. I'm sure anyone who knows pop culture could immediately tell who the artist is, but I don't know and don't care to look it up. Part of the song says "I want to be a billionaire, so freaking bad." That alone made me chuckle in shame. The rest of the song goes on to tell what the singer is going to do when he gets rich, from playing basketball with the president to being on the cover of Forbes with Oprah and the Queen. When reflecting on this, I remember hearing a similar song that has the lyrics "oh I just can't wait to be king."
Yup, the Lion King.
The song says the same thing a Disney movie did about a talking lion.
The problem with the popular rap song is that it is supposed to be a popular rap song, but he ends up just communicating that he wants money SO MUCH, and that he will do all these cool things when he gets it. It's stupid. I really can't think of another word for it. This guy is just saying that he wants money and what he will do with it. That's it. And people eat that shit up. I really don't understand it. It's not even catchy--it's annoying. It even sounds vaguely like ska. Hows that for street cred?
I do understand the draw for some popular music (the catchy beats and lyrics), but this song has neither. It makes me feel sorry for all the people my age who listen to it and find pleasure in it. There should be none gained from that song.
But now, in the words of Julian Casablancas, "I got nothing to say."
..........
I heard a song today that made me embarrassed for the artist. I'm sure anyone who knows pop culture could immediately tell who the artist is, but I don't know and don't care to look it up. Part of the song says "I want to be a billionaire, so freaking bad." That alone made me chuckle in shame. The rest of the song goes on to tell what the singer is going to do when he gets rich, from playing basketball with the president to being on the cover of Forbes with Oprah and the Queen. When reflecting on this, I remember hearing a similar song that has the lyrics "oh I just can't wait to be king."
Yup, the Lion King.
The song says the same thing a Disney movie did about a talking lion.
The problem with the popular rap song is that it is supposed to be a popular rap song, but he ends up just communicating that he wants money SO MUCH, and that he will do all these cool things when he gets it. It's stupid. I really can't think of another word for it. This guy is just saying that he wants money and what he will do with it. That's it. And people eat that shit up. I really don't understand it. It's not even catchy--it's annoying. It even sounds vaguely like ska. Hows that for street cred?
I do understand the draw for some popular music (the catchy beats and lyrics), but this song has neither. It makes me feel sorry for all the people my age who listen to it and find pleasure in it. There should be none gained from that song.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Genesis 1-2:2
I feel content, lacking anxiety or discomfort concerning relationships, at the moment. I assume that is because of God--I don't know why, I just give credit to Him. Therefore, I feel like I should do something to show my thanks, so I prayed and read chapters 1 and the beginning of 2 in Genesis. I haven't done this in a while, both praying and reading the Bible. I had trouble praying, because I didn't know what to think about when I prayed. I didn't want to just send my prayers into the sky, I wanted something concrete to think of in my mind to direct my prayers towards. So I tried to imagine a person (Jesus) sitting on the edge of my bed. The real Jesus, not American Jesus; so, I started thinking about a middle eastern looking person, but I kept picturing Mihir, which I found humorous. Eventually I just gave up trying to think of what to think about and just prayed. From what I've heard about God, I think He's fine with that.
During my reading of the first several chapters of Genesis, I had some questions. First, it depicts God creating. Why did He create? What had he been doing before He created (I doubt we can know the answer to that, but I still need to ask)? And most importantly, what did God gain from creating? How did He benefit?
Secondly, it says in verse 26 that God said he wanted to "Make humankind in our image, according to our likeness." What does it mean to be in the image of God, to be his likeness? All we know about God so far is that he creates, he can tell a difference between "good" and something else, and that there is more than one part of God. Does it mean we have traits like Him, that we posses something that He does?
Then, in verse 28, He tells man to "subdue the earth." How does one subdue the earth? The definitions of subdue essentially say that one takes something that is existing in a way that is different than the captor/possessor/keeper/whatever and makes it like itself (itself being the captor...whatever thing).
Finally, in the second verse of the second chapter, it says that God rested. Why does He have to rest? Does God get tired? "You are the everlasting God/you do not faint, you won't grow weary"--not according to this, Chris Tomlin! I guess one would have to ask, what does it mean to rest? Does it mean sleep, or just sit there, or go run a marathon, or talk to someone?
I just read the Bible and I have a lot of questions, but I don't feel like I learned anything or gained any knowledge. I don't feel like I'm any closer to figuring anything out. But I don't feel bad. Strangely, I feel content. Maybe it's numbness or indifference. I can't tell.
During my reading of the first several chapters of Genesis, I had some questions. First, it depicts God creating. Why did He create? What had he been doing before He created (I doubt we can know the answer to that, but I still need to ask)? And most importantly, what did God gain from creating? How did He benefit?
Secondly, it says in verse 26 that God said he wanted to "Make humankind in our image, according to our likeness." What does it mean to be in the image of God, to be his likeness? All we know about God so far is that he creates, he can tell a difference between "good" and something else, and that there is more than one part of God. Does it mean we have traits like Him, that we posses something that He does?
Then, in verse 28, He tells man to "subdue the earth." How does one subdue the earth? The definitions of subdue essentially say that one takes something that is existing in a way that is different than the captor/possessor/keeper/whatever and makes it like itself (itself being the captor...whatever thing).
Finally, in the second verse of the second chapter, it says that God rested. Why does He have to rest? Does God get tired? "You are the everlasting God/you do not faint, you won't grow weary"--not according to this, Chris Tomlin! I guess one would have to ask, what does it mean to rest? Does it mean sleep, or just sit there, or go run a marathon, or talk to someone?
I just read the Bible and I have a lot of questions, but I don't feel like I learned anything or gained any knowledge. I don't feel like I'm any closer to figuring anything out. But I don't feel bad. Strangely, I feel content. Maybe it's numbness or indifference. I can't tell.
What Are Friends?
Why are people friends with one another? I'm talking about good friends, like Drew and Jake and Amanda. What is it about us that makes us want to hang out with each other whenever, where ever?
I ask this because I realize I don't do very much. I don't play video games, I don't like sports, I don't listen to generic music, and here, in the first week of college, it seems like those are the only things that people do. Why do I have friends?
I assume it's because the people I'm closest to found something in me, and I in them, that has nothing to do with what we do, but instead, who we are. However, I don't fully understand this. Why can I go to Drew's cottage for a week and feel completely comfortable, whereas I can't hold many conversations here for more than three minutes? Is it because Drew and I had classes in school together, and played basketball on the same team? I did that with other guys and I'm not good friends with them. Why are close friends close? What makes up that common, strong bond that holds people to each other?
I could see myself getting involved in service, like projects and stuff, because I think the people there are the type of people I would want to know. Those who go to service projects because they want to aren't usually superficial. They are kind, and they care about others. But would I just be using service as a way to feel loved?
Essentially, that's what everyone is looking for, a place where they can feel completely loved. Maybe bros find it in the community they gain through video games, sports, and rap music. Maybe some girls find it in looking pretty and going shopping and the people they meet along the way. But for me, someone who doesn't really do anything, where can I find love?
There is a feeling of peace when I'm with my close friends. We don't have to struggle to come up with things to talk about. And even if we can't find things to talk about, we can just be quiet, still with each other.
I guess my problem is that I am looking for the deep kind of relationship in the first week. I'm grasping, groping, longing for someone to cling to, someone who will love me even when I don't do anything interesting. Should I stop doing that? Should I stop searching for lifelong friends and try to enjoy the shallow, fleeting friendships I make with people? But those friendships are founded on what you do (what movies you watch, what happens in pop culture, what is funny, etc), and if I don't know what the latest song playing on KISS FM is, how can I engage in those friendships that are based on that type of thing?
I think too much.
I ask this because I realize I don't do very much. I don't play video games, I don't like sports, I don't listen to generic music, and here, in the first week of college, it seems like those are the only things that people do. Why do I have friends?
I assume it's because the people I'm closest to found something in me, and I in them, that has nothing to do with what we do, but instead, who we are. However, I don't fully understand this. Why can I go to Drew's cottage for a week and feel completely comfortable, whereas I can't hold many conversations here for more than three minutes? Is it because Drew and I had classes in school together, and played basketball on the same team? I did that with other guys and I'm not good friends with them. Why are close friends close? What makes up that common, strong bond that holds people to each other?
I could see myself getting involved in service, like projects and stuff, because I think the people there are the type of people I would want to know. Those who go to service projects because they want to aren't usually superficial. They are kind, and they care about others. But would I just be using service as a way to feel loved?
Essentially, that's what everyone is looking for, a place where they can feel completely loved. Maybe bros find it in the community they gain through video games, sports, and rap music. Maybe some girls find it in looking pretty and going shopping and the people they meet along the way. But for me, someone who doesn't really do anything, where can I find love?
There is a feeling of peace when I'm with my close friends. We don't have to struggle to come up with things to talk about. And even if we can't find things to talk about, we can just be quiet, still with each other.
I guess my problem is that I am looking for the deep kind of relationship in the first week. I'm grasping, groping, longing for someone to cling to, someone who will love me even when I don't do anything interesting. Should I stop doing that? Should I stop searching for lifelong friends and try to enjoy the shallow, fleeting friendships I make with people? But those friendships are founded on what you do (what movies you watch, what happens in pop culture, what is funny, etc), and if I don't know what the latest song playing on KISS FM is, how can I engage in those friendships that are based on that type of thing?
I think too much.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
College Reflection #3
Today was the most confusing day when thinking about writing a first sentence. I felt both excruciatingly lonely at the beginning and shockingly at home at the end. Things do and will get better over time, a lesson I had to learn from experience.
At the beginning, it was the beginning of Welcome Week and we got into our Mentor Groups (which will also be our Cornerstone Class members). We did the typical ice breakers, and I concluded via my acute sense of stereotyping people that I wouldn't become good friends with any of those people. Great, I thought, in the place where you're supposed to meet friends, you won't. And my introversion slowly expanded. However, there is this guy in the group named Ethan, and he's worth noting about.
Everyone knows an Ethan. He's the guy who tells super long stories when a one word answer was asked for. He's the guy who keeps going on and on about a seemingly meaningless story. He's the guy that makes everyone feel uncomfortable because he's so awkward. Well, Ethan stands out from all the other Ethans in that he knows he's socially awkward, and he called out a part of society that lies normally in our subconscious. A group leader asked a question like "what does God want us to do with our lives/how can we live out loud (the terrible motto of Welcome Week)?" And Ethan responded like this: "Society requires that you be a certain type of person, that person having a specific set of social skills; being outgoing, sociable, able to hold a conversation, etc. But everyone is not gifted with social skills. God wants us to be the person that was made, the personality and traits that we have."
I had never considered the obvious fact that society creates a prerequisite for participation, at least the popular-social-cool-world that the majority of people want to be a part of. Some of that majority are the people who don't meet the requirements. Maybe it was because someone with the worst set of social skills openly claimed them and also exposed "social skills" for what they really are-- a gift that some receive, others have to struggle to cultivate. I don't know why he struck a chord with me, but he did.
Back to the day. I met a girl named Morgan who talks exactly like a girl I went to high school with. I hope she's not the same way that my high school acquaintance is: shallow, superficial, dumb. Morgan's cool. She seems like she would be a fun friend.
We did a few more activities throughout the rest of the day, most of which I remained silent. I'm not going to broadcast myself in order for people to like me, especially people who I don't think are interesting. I'll wait for the interesting people, then I'll float the vibe, like I did with Matt. But I'll talk about that later.
The end of the Welcome Week day was the Candlelight Devo. Going in, I thought it was going to be ultra lame. I was reaching back to my other experiences with candle-and-religion situations, and the Christmas Eve Service immediately surfaced. With that as my reference, I was preparing to play on my iPhone. But as each section of freshman exited Moody in a single-file line while everyone was singing accapella, I felt a familiar yet lost feeling. Everyone was singing the same song with enthusiasm, at least the people sitting next to me. I felt a connection to everyone, like we had something in common. And, as I exited Moody, I saw a line of people (upper classmen, graduates, older people), and the feeling grew stronger. They were holding lit candles and singing worship songs. I saw Jake and Trav and Amanda and Mackenzie and Chelsea and Mary and Christine and Ryan and Carly, all lined up, all looking at me and smiling. As we made our way into the Amphitheater I realized that what I was feeling was love. I felt loved. These were people who I know, some of whom I don't even know very well. But the fact that we have, for whatever reason, been in each others' lives made us, at this moment, friends. But we were more than that.
As we continued singing in the Amphitheater, I kept thinking. Why would all these people come back for this? Maybe because they had a similar experience--they saw people they knew when they were freshmen and they felt the same things I did. And if that's true, they wanted us to have the same experience, the same feelings they did. They wanted us to feel love. And in that moment, while looking at the crowd of people lit by little yellow flames, I understood what it means to be a Christian. As we sang, we didn't have to be seen--we were joined by the song we knew, everyone singing to the same God. We didn't have to be someone, our identities didn't matter because we all had the same one: Christian. Follower of Christ. And yes, most of us fuck up and don't act like Christians a lot of the time. But at that Candlelit Devo, it seemed like everyone was being as close to who we were made to be as we could.
Now, I understand that the experience I had can't be shared by everyone for two reasons: one, I know people who go to the university who are older than me; and two, I grew up in a Christian home. The second point is the most important. I do realize that, because I went to church every Sunday growing up, I learned every song that we sang at the devo, which was helpful because they didn't have projectors or screens or song books. But what about the people who didn't grow up going to church? They were screwed. I saw a girl looking around, not singing, and I felt bad for her, because she was ostracized from an experience because she didn't know the words. How many others felt awkward because they didn't know the words, and everyone else is singing their hearts out? The experience was good for me, but I know that it can't be had by everyone.
After that, we had a Mabee Hall meeting where they, among other things, told everyone to prop their doors open in the dorm and socialize. After that, the doors were open, and I felt the energy to meet people. I actually went into other guys' rooms and introduced myself and started a conversation! Look at me go. But the most interesting guy I met was Matt. He was wearing shoes from Switzerland, skinny jeans, and glasses with frames that look like Ray-bans. I started talking to him and casually showed him my room, because we were standing by it. I pointed out the record player, and that prompted the record test. The record test is the first of two test I have established in my short time here. Between Mihir and me, I think the records we have are pretty solid from great artists: Kid A by Radiohead, Sea of Cowards by The Dead Weather (those are Mihir's), High Violet by The National, and Shallow Grave by the Tallest Man On Earth (mine). I show the records to people, and their reactions are good indicators of what type of person they are. So far, no one has heard of any of those bands (I know, right? Radiohead? Come on). But with Matt, he had heard of every one of them. He had even seen Radiohead in concert! My friend-radars were going crazy. Then, to make it even more exciting, he asked if I knew about Mumford and Sons, a band I really like! And he's going to see them in concert at the House of Blues later this year! I knew then that we would probably be good friends. He told me that another band I liked had done something with a different band, something I want to check out. Things were looking good--on to the movie test.
The movie test is the same as the record test, except with my movie collection. Now, I have a great movie collection, it's just that most people don't watch good movies. But the second I showed Matt the movies, he picked up "Children of Men" and said "this is one of my favorite movies." Right then, I felt like I had found someone just like me.
And yet, I'm kind of hesitating to talk to him again, because, after three days of searching through superficial people, Matt seems too good to be true. I don't want to get to know him more and find out that he's really annoying or intense or (God forbid) a tool. But there's no way.
So, in one day, I went from feeling alone to feeling loved. I'd say I had a pretty full day.
At the beginning, it was the beginning of Welcome Week and we got into our Mentor Groups (which will also be our Cornerstone Class members). We did the typical ice breakers, and I concluded via my acute sense of stereotyping people that I wouldn't become good friends with any of those people. Great, I thought, in the place where you're supposed to meet friends, you won't. And my introversion slowly expanded. However, there is this guy in the group named Ethan, and he's worth noting about.
Everyone knows an Ethan. He's the guy who tells super long stories when a one word answer was asked for. He's the guy who keeps going on and on about a seemingly meaningless story. He's the guy that makes everyone feel uncomfortable because he's so awkward. Well, Ethan stands out from all the other Ethans in that he knows he's socially awkward, and he called out a part of society that lies normally in our subconscious. A group leader asked a question like "what does God want us to do with our lives/how can we live out loud (the terrible motto of Welcome Week)?" And Ethan responded like this: "Society requires that you be a certain type of person, that person having a specific set of social skills; being outgoing, sociable, able to hold a conversation, etc. But everyone is not gifted with social skills. God wants us to be the person that was made, the personality and traits that we have."
I had never considered the obvious fact that society creates a prerequisite for participation, at least the popular-social-cool-world that the majority of people want to be a part of. Some of that majority are the people who don't meet the requirements. Maybe it was because someone with the worst set of social skills openly claimed them and also exposed "social skills" for what they really are-- a gift that some receive, others have to struggle to cultivate. I don't know why he struck a chord with me, but he did.
Back to the day. I met a girl named Morgan who talks exactly like a girl I went to high school with. I hope she's not the same way that my high school acquaintance is: shallow, superficial, dumb. Morgan's cool. She seems like she would be a fun friend.
We did a few more activities throughout the rest of the day, most of which I remained silent. I'm not going to broadcast myself in order for people to like me, especially people who I don't think are interesting. I'll wait for the interesting people, then I'll float the vibe, like I did with Matt. But I'll talk about that later.
The end of the Welcome Week day was the Candlelight Devo. Going in, I thought it was going to be ultra lame. I was reaching back to my other experiences with candle-and-religion situations, and the Christmas Eve Service immediately surfaced. With that as my reference, I was preparing to play on my iPhone. But as each section of freshman exited Moody in a single-file line while everyone was singing accapella, I felt a familiar yet lost feeling. Everyone was singing the same song with enthusiasm, at least the people sitting next to me. I felt a connection to everyone, like we had something in common. And, as I exited Moody, I saw a line of people (upper classmen, graduates, older people), and the feeling grew stronger. They were holding lit candles and singing worship songs. I saw Jake and Trav and Amanda and Mackenzie and Chelsea and Mary and Christine and Ryan and Carly, all lined up, all looking at me and smiling. As we made our way into the Amphitheater I realized that what I was feeling was love. I felt loved. These were people who I know, some of whom I don't even know very well. But the fact that we have, for whatever reason, been in each others' lives made us, at this moment, friends. But we were more than that.
As we continued singing in the Amphitheater, I kept thinking. Why would all these people come back for this? Maybe because they had a similar experience--they saw people they knew when they were freshmen and they felt the same things I did. And if that's true, they wanted us to have the same experience, the same feelings they did. They wanted us to feel love. And in that moment, while looking at the crowd of people lit by little yellow flames, I understood what it means to be a Christian. As we sang, we didn't have to be seen--we were joined by the song we knew, everyone singing to the same God. We didn't have to be someone, our identities didn't matter because we all had the same one: Christian. Follower of Christ. And yes, most of us fuck up and don't act like Christians a lot of the time. But at that Candlelit Devo, it seemed like everyone was being as close to who we were made to be as we could.
Now, I understand that the experience I had can't be shared by everyone for two reasons: one, I know people who go to the university who are older than me; and two, I grew up in a Christian home. The second point is the most important. I do realize that, because I went to church every Sunday growing up, I learned every song that we sang at the devo, which was helpful because they didn't have projectors or screens or song books. But what about the people who didn't grow up going to church? They were screwed. I saw a girl looking around, not singing, and I felt bad for her, because she was ostracized from an experience because she didn't know the words. How many others felt awkward because they didn't know the words, and everyone else is singing their hearts out? The experience was good for me, but I know that it can't be had by everyone.
After that, we had a Mabee Hall meeting where they, among other things, told everyone to prop their doors open in the dorm and socialize. After that, the doors were open, and I felt the energy to meet people. I actually went into other guys' rooms and introduced myself and started a conversation! Look at me go. But the most interesting guy I met was Matt. He was wearing shoes from Switzerland, skinny jeans, and glasses with frames that look like Ray-bans. I started talking to him and casually showed him my room, because we were standing by it. I pointed out the record player, and that prompted the record test. The record test is the first of two test I have established in my short time here. Between Mihir and me, I think the records we have are pretty solid from great artists: Kid A by Radiohead, Sea of Cowards by The Dead Weather (those are Mihir's), High Violet by The National, and Shallow Grave by the Tallest Man On Earth (mine). I show the records to people, and their reactions are good indicators of what type of person they are. So far, no one has heard of any of those bands (I know, right? Radiohead? Come on). But with Matt, he had heard of every one of them. He had even seen Radiohead in concert! My friend-radars were going crazy. Then, to make it even more exciting, he asked if I knew about Mumford and Sons, a band I really like! And he's going to see them in concert at the House of Blues later this year! I knew then that we would probably be good friends. He told me that another band I liked had done something with a different band, something I want to check out. Things were looking good--on to the movie test.
The movie test is the same as the record test, except with my movie collection. Now, I have a great movie collection, it's just that most people don't watch good movies. But the second I showed Matt the movies, he picked up "Children of Men" and said "this is one of my favorite movies." Right then, I felt like I had found someone just like me.
And yet, I'm kind of hesitating to talk to him again, because, after three days of searching through superficial people, Matt seems too good to be true. I don't want to get to know him more and find out that he's really annoying or intense or (God forbid) a tool. But there's no way.
So, in one day, I went from feeling alone to feeling loved. I'd say I had a pretty full day.
Movies and Peers
I have observed an interesting trend over the past few days that leads me to an insight about the typical movie-watching American male. I understand off the bat that I am not a typical film viewer; I tend to stay away from the mainstream films (I even resent many of them) and veer towards classics and films with reputations of being good art.
Therefore, when at college, I encounter many typical movie watchers. When people come into my dorm and see my movie collection, their first instinct is to examine it to see if I have any of the films they have seen and/or like. But upon examination, their faces become silent as they realize they don't know most of the films I keep in my collection. I had one guy make a disdainful comment when he saw that I had "Brokeback Mountain" in my collection, a film with excessive homophobic hatred and fear. Mostly, people end their perusing finding only my M. Night Shyamalan collection or The Matrix trilogy or "The Dark Knight" as ones they have seen.
This affirms my thoughts that I was abnormal in my movie watching. This doesn't make me sad. No, in a prideful way, this brings me satisfaction. I guess it's elitism, a film-snobbery. I don't care. Because I understand the types of films I like, and I won't change that for anyone.
Therefore, when at college, I encounter many typical movie watchers. When people come into my dorm and see my movie collection, their first instinct is to examine it to see if I have any of the films they have seen and/or like. But upon examination, their faces become silent as they realize they don't know most of the films I keep in my collection. I had one guy make a disdainful comment when he saw that I had "Brokeback Mountain" in my collection, a film with excessive homophobic hatred and fear. Mostly, people end their perusing finding only my M. Night Shyamalan collection or The Matrix trilogy or "The Dark Knight" as ones they have seen.
This affirms my thoughts that I was abnormal in my movie watching. This doesn't make me sad. No, in a prideful way, this brings me satisfaction. I guess it's elitism, a film-snobbery. I don't care. Because I understand the types of films I like, and I won't change that for anyone.
Monday, August 16, 2010
College Reflection #2
The feeling I get when I realize I know people here is the most overwhelming sense of peace, gratitude, and happiness I have ever felt. I'm not scared anymore.
It's strange, now that I'm beginning to meet people, to think how terrible the first few days were for me. I felt more alone than I ever have, even while everyone else probably felt the same way and was trying to make friends too. But I couldn't escape the omnipotent fear I had when I went to a function and realized that I knew no one, and everyone else seemed to know someone else. I have never been more outside my comfort zone than the first three days at ACU.
But today, I made friends. I found guys on my hall who weren't tools, and we played "PIG" on a miniature basketball goal in one of their rooms. Then the game died down, and we just sat around talking, laughing at a ridiculous "would you rather" book, and listening to Michael Buble (Allen's choice). Then Brock, Cody, and Mihir stopped by for a little bit, so I got to see some people I knew very well, something I didn't expect to want. I have never been in a place where I couldn't go and be surrounded by people I know. I guess I could here, with people like Blaine, Jake, and Amanda. But Mabee Hall is full of guys I've never met (except 3), and I have to learn how to meet people if I want to feel at home.
That's an essential part of the college experience--meeting people. It's like going on dozens of speed dates, over and over, trying to see what people are the type of people you want to hang around. It's frustrating, hell, down right agonizing at first. But then you meet one, then another, and suddenly your in a room of six guys that you consider cool, trying to bounce a mini basketball of the side wall into a hoop hung on the door. It begins to level out.
Sometime today, the lyrics of the song "Promise" by Spoken came into my head. I've never had a song resonate with me so much as this did. It literally felt like the song was written for me at this specific moment in my life. I kept saying them to myself when I felt really alone. And it helped.
(Chorus)
Things will get better this I promise you
And I know that you won’t feel this way forever
Things will get better this I promise you
And I know loneliness won’t last forever
It's strange, now that I'm beginning to meet people, to think how terrible the first few days were for me. I felt more alone than I ever have, even while everyone else probably felt the same way and was trying to make friends too. But I couldn't escape the omnipotent fear I had when I went to a function and realized that I knew no one, and everyone else seemed to know someone else. I have never been more outside my comfort zone than the first three days at ACU.
But today, I made friends. I found guys on my hall who weren't tools, and we played "PIG" on a miniature basketball goal in one of their rooms. Then the game died down, and we just sat around talking, laughing at a ridiculous "would you rather" book, and listening to Michael Buble (Allen's choice). Then Brock, Cody, and Mihir stopped by for a little bit, so I got to see some people I knew very well, something I didn't expect to want. I have never been in a place where I couldn't go and be surrounded by people I know. I guess I could here, with people like Blaine, Jake, and Amanda. But Mabee Hall is full of guys I've never met (except 3), and I have to learn how to meet people if I want to feel at home.
That's an essential part of the college experience--meeting people. It's like going on dozens of speed dates, over and over, trying to see what people are the type of people you want to hang around. It's frustrating, hell, down right agonizing at first. But then you meet one, then another, and suddenly your in a room of six guys that you consider cool, trying to bounce a mini basketball of the side wall into a hoop hung on the door. It begins to level out.
Sometime today, the lyrics of the song "Promise" by Spoken came into my head. I've never had a song resonate with me so much as this did. It literally felt like the song was written for me at this specific moment in my life. I kept saying them to myself when I felt really alone. And it helped.
(Chorus)
Things will get better this I promise you
And I know that you won’t feel this way forever
Things will get better this I promise you
And I know loneliness won’t last forever
College Reflection #1
As a recently discovered introvert, I have found that the first few days of college are frightening, stressful, and dreadful. Those who are extroverted won't understand, because being with people, probably even people they don't know, gives them energy and a sense of fulfillment. As for me, it's taxing. I hate having to search for friends, scout out and be outgoing. Plus, it seems like the guys on my hall are all bros. My movie collection weirds some people out. If only I can find someone who listens to the Strokes or likes indie films...
I'm sure there are people in this freshman class that don't watch TV or play video games or listen to the current pop music. There have to be weird people like me out there. I hope I meet them soon.
To make matters worse, everywhere I go, I see guys traveling in groups. Either they already met some people and became friends, or they all went to high school together. I could go hang out with people who went to FWC, but, honestly, that's something I want to avoid.
Don't get me wrong, my friends from FWC are some of the best friends in my life. But coming here and exclusively hanging out with them seems like I'm relying too much on old friendships and not attempting to make new ones. I do want to make new friends. Just not with tools.
It's hard being insecure and having your outgoing parents at college with you. My mom has already tried to set me up, help me meet people. I end up slipping away from her conversations just before she can introduce me. I want to find my own friends, to do it myself. If she finds friends for me, I'll feel simultaneously incapable and attached. Neither of which I want.
I wonder when I'll start meeting good people, interesting people. Because I know it will happen. I'll look back and remember this time when I was nervous and move on, because I will have already met people and started relationships. It's the in-between time, right now, that makes me want to hide in my dorm. But that won't help anything.
I'm sure there are people in this freshman class that don't watch TV or play video games or listen to the current pop music. There have to be weird people like me out there. I hope I meet them soon.
To make matters worse, everywhere I go, I see guys traveling in groups. Either they already met some people and became friends, or they all went to high school together. I could go hang out with people who went to FWC, but, honestly, that's something I want to avoid.
Don't get me wrong, my friends from FWC are some of the best friends in my life. But coming here and exclusively hanging out with them seems like I'm relying too much on old friendships and not attempting to make new ones. I do want to make new friends. Just not with tools.
It's hard being insecure and having your outgoing parents at college with you. My mom has already tried to set me up, help me meet people. I end up slipping away from her conversations just before she can introduce me. I want to find my own friends, to do it myself. If she finds friends for me, I'll feel simultaneously incapable and attached. Neither of which I want.
I wonder when I'll start meeting good people, interesting people. Because I know it will happen. I'll look back and remember this time when I was nervous and move on, because I will have already met people and started relationships. It's the in-between time, right now, that makes me want to hide in my dorm. But that won't help anything.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Literally The Best Post I've Ever Done
There are certain people who create a situation that is very frustrating for me. These people say something extremely exaggerated, but preface it with the word "literally."
For example-- "I was walking down the street and dropped my phone, and it broke. I literally screamed at the top of my lungs in sadness."
No, you didn't. You didn't scream. And what is frustrating is that these people think they are entitled to take the way humans commonly speak and warp it for humorous purposes. I guess more people do this in other ways, but this way is especially frustrating.
I'm so fed up with it that the next time I hear someone say like that, I will correct them. Without mercy.
For example-- "I was walking down the street and dropped my phone, and it broke. I literally screamed at the top of my lungs in sadness."
No, you didn't. You didn't scream. And what is frustrating is that these people think they are entitled to take the way humans commonly speak and warp it for humorous purposes. I guess more people do this in other ways, but this way is especially frustrating.
I'm so fed up with it that the next time I hear someone say like that, I will correct them. Without mercy.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The First Night
My first day of college. Well, at least living in the dorm.
I don't know what I thought it would be like. Maybe I thought people would be walking down the halls with smiles on their faces, ready to be friends and know each other. Guys like the one's on Jake's hall last year. Maybe these guys are. I just don't want to be outgoing right now.
I hope this is going to be a good experience. The RA, Alex, is really cool. Maybe that's a good sign. But what if I don't have a good experience? Maybe that's enough momentum to get me to transfer to UT-if I don't have a good time here. I have no idea what's best for me: to stay here and major in something other than film or transfer to UT and major in film.
I don't think I'm going to put much stock in my first day experience, because it's just that. The first day. Everyone is bustling about, trying to get their rooms settled and comfortable, and everyone is leaving their families for a long while. It's lonesome for everyone.
It's good to know that, at least, I have friends at home. That I have family. That I have people who want to know me and be around me, even if no one does here. And I don't assume that's the case, I just don't know anyone and feel a little lonely. Hopefully it will pass.
I don't know what I thought it would be like. Maybe I thought people would be walking down the halls with smiles on their faces, ready to be friends and know each other. Guys like the one's on Jake's hall last year. Maybe these guys are. I just don't want to be outgoing right now.
I hope this is going to be a good experience. The RA, Alex, is really cool. Maybe that's a good sign. But what if I don't have a good experience? Maybe that's enough momentum to get me to transfer to UT-if I don't have a good time here. I have no idea what's best for me: to stay here and major in something other than film or transfer to UT and major in film.
I don't think I'm going to put much stock in my first day experience, because it's just that. The first day. Everyone is bustling about, trying to get their rooms settled and comfortable, and everyone is leaving their families for a long while. It's lonesome for everyone.
It's good to know that, at least, I have friends at home. That I have family. That I have people who want to know me and be around me, even if no one does here. And I don't assume that's the case, I just don't know anyone and feel a little lonely. Hopefully it will pass.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Hatred
There is something about those who so ardently act on what they believe, who know for sure that only their way of living is right, that something makes me feel pity for them. They refuse to accept that people can live another way and be right. Not even talking about religion, just the way they approach life. It makes me sad when they think only one man is the right choice for president and they pray in their closet so that he will win, essentially taking the power of God and neutralizing it. They are right, they have to be. My pity turns to disgust.
American Beauty
"American Beauty" had me so baffled after my first viewing that I knew I had to watch it a second time in order to begin to grasp what it was saying. However, I did know that it was one of the best films I've seen in my life. Maybe because it concerned life and living and what that means, the most important topic in humanity. Roger Ebert once wrote that "the greatest films are meditations on why we are here." "American Beauty" does exactly that.
I didn't understand the scene of the floating bag until the second viewing. Initially, it was just a piece of trash dancing amidst leaves. But after viewing it again, I realized that is the central point of the film. Beauty is found in places one wouldn't ordinarily look. Most people would just walk by that bag, but for Ricky, it is the elegance, the formless, fluid movement that stops him and makes him film in wonder. If you actually watch the bag, it is beautiful. You do see the leaves following it like "foot soldiers," as Sam Mendes said. The bag is more beautiful when you forget you are watching a piece of plastic and embrace its trance-like movement of rising, falling, swirling, dancing, living.
This film views a typical American family and chronicles its demise. Or liberation, depending on how you look at it. The film begins with the father Lester (Kevin Spacey) existing, but not living. He comments that he "wasn't always this sedated," referring to the condition that I assume most Americans have experienced at least once. I think it is native to America because we have constructed a guarded, formal, relentless lifestyle that rejects intimacy and looks to possessions for happiness. Therefore, we end up feeling like we're already dead, like Lester says at the beginning of the film. He hates his job, he can't stand up to his wife, and he no longer can relate to his daughter, Jane. His life is a disaster. Or, if you're Ricky, who films each of these situations, they are beautiful.
How are they beautiful? They are beautiful because they are the beginning of a change, a step towards life. The family goes through important life situations; Lester lusts over his daughters friend Angela; his wife Carolyn has an ongoing affair with "the King of real estate," Buddy; and Jane falls in love with Ricky. The latter is the only positive situation of the three, because Ricky loves Jane for her unconventional beauty. He loves her because he thinks she is unique and beautiful. And in one truly remarkable scene, this love is seen. Jane has just been slapped by her mother. She goes over to the window and finds Ricky filming her from his house next door. In an act of intimacy, she takes of her clothes for him--not to seduce him, but to show that she trusts and needs him. As her naked body is exposed on the official film of the movie, it cuts to Ricky's camera--he is not filming her breasts, but just her face. It is a touching scene that shows the audience the love Ricky has for Jane. All the while, the audience sees the suspicious father of Ricky, Conrad, in shadow.
Meanwhile, Lester has quit his job and started working at a fast food restaurant, where he discovers Carolyn's affair when she makes out with Buddy in the drive thru. But Lester isn't hurt; he says it's okay, because he wants Carolyn to be happy. He has found his freedom in saying what he wants and going after what he wants. He works out in order to impress Angela, and one stormy night, he gets the chance. Angela had a fight with Jane and Ricky. Towards the end of the argument, Angela intentionally tries to hurt Jane by saying "yeah, well, at least I'm not ugly." And with insight into the theme of the movie, Ricky steps in and says "yes, you are. And you're boring, and you're totally ordinary, and you know it." A girl that has what the world calls beauty is called out by a boy who knows what true beauty is. This line in particular is perfectly delivered by Wes Bentley, who plays Ricky.
Angela storms out and runs downstairs, where Lester finds her. They exchange kisses and he undresses her. Just as he is about to move in on her, she tells him that she is a virgin, which seemingly snaps him back to reality. He was turned on by this girl, not woman. Lester clothes her and consoles her as she cries, and he realizes who she is, and who he is. They go into the kitchen to talk, and for the first time, Lester considers how he is really doing, how his life is going. He says he's great, and really means it. But then, as he reflects over the best moments of his life, he is killed, by one I will not name in hopes of not ruining the ending. But as Ricky and Jane come down to see what has happened, Ricky sees Lester dead on the counter, blood dripping down his face, and Lester seems happy. There is a small smile on his face that communicates that Lester died while he was content. And there is beauty in his death.
This film is exceptional because it comments on life, how beauty is found not in gorgeous women or sports cars or heated affairs, but in the smile on a dead man's face, or a girl who disappears in a crowd, or in a floating bag on the street. There is so much beauty in the world, we just have to learn how to see it.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Brokeback Mountain
"I wish I knew how to quit you."
"Brokeback Mountain" came into the public eye coupled with a monstrous amount of controversy. It's that gay cowboy movie, most said as they wrote it off. And, being in middle school, I encountered the immediate reference that emerged when any two males had any sort of contact-"BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN," my friends would scream. Of course, none of these people saw the film--they weren't gay, and only gay people went to see it, as far as they were concerned. There should be no wonder where there is so much hate in this country.
The film depicts the relationship of Jack and Ennis (Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger), two cowboys who meet while driving sheep on Brokeback Mountain in the fall of 1963. Initially, the two have a casual relationship, talking while eating meals. Ennis finds a confidant in Jack and speaks more to him than he has in his whole life. He discovers someone with whom he is comfortable and happy. So, one night Ennis ends up sleeping in Jack's tent after he realizes he can't make it back to his safely. In the middle of the night, the two engage in a quick sexual act, then fall asleep. They wake up in the morning, both fully aware of what happened, and promise to keep what happened between them. "I'm not a queer," Ennis states. "Well, neither am I," says Jack. Was this sexual exchange driven by Ennis' prolonged hiatus from sexual activity, being on the mountain and away from his fiance for so long? Or was he just attracted to Jack, and the lack of social and moral restrictions that come with being alone in the wild freed him to move in? I think it begins as the former, but as time progresses and the men continue to meet, Ennis develops a love for Jack.
The two men part ways at the end of the job, and they go back to their normal lives: Ennis marries Alma (Michelle Williams) and has two girls, and Jack marries Lureen (Anne Hathaway), the daughter of a wealthy farm equipment seller. But they never forget about one another--one day Ennis receives a post card from Jack, stating he will be up in Wyoming soon. Ennis is overjoyed, and when his friend arrives, they rush into an alleyway to kiss, to be seen by no one except Ennis' wife. She is horrified but doesn't share her knowledge with Ennis, allowing him to go "fishing" with Jack year after year. But the secret won't go away. She files for divorce and marries again, only then telling Ennis that she knew what he was doing all along.
And time and again, the two men meet at a secret rendezvous, where their conversations are free flowing and relaxed, as if they are only truly comfortable with each other. Over the course of the film, it is apparent that Jack needs Ennis the most. He drives from Texas to Wyoming each month, never making Ennis come the other way. And every so often, Jack offers to run away with Ennis, start up a ranch, live together, be happy. But every time, Ennis refuses; once he shares with Jack that when he was little, a gay cowboy in his town was drug by a horse and killed because of his sexuality. Ennis' father made sure his sons saw it, apparently trying to scare any homosexuality out of them. Whether from fear of social ostracism or frightening death, or even familial loyalty, Ennis turns Jack away over and over.
The men grow up, their lives begin to consume them. Ennis meets another girl but is unable to love her, even though she obviously loves him. Heath Ledger creates a character that is aloof, detached from everyone. He is tight lipped and masculine, and unable to connect with others. Could it be his love for Jack that subconsciously alienates him from the rest of the world? Or could he just be a quiet cowboy in an outgoing society, lonely and wanting what only one other has given him?
In the end, Ennis hears that Jack has died. Jack's wife says that he died in a freak tire-changing accident, but the coldness in her voice and flashbacks showing Jack beaten to death by other men suggest otherwise. Ennis is heartbroken. He travels to Jack's parents house and retrieves a shirt, one Jack wore while the two were on the mountain. He weeps for the only person he truly loved, and his life goes on, leaving him only with the memories.
Ang Lee created an intimacy in the setting on the mountain, alongside the already disappearing and foreign occupation of cowboy. Something about minimal technology and the wide open sky protruded by mountains evokes a nostalgia for a life I never had. The film was beautiful.
However, I didn't love the film; I thought going into it I would, but it just didn't do it for me. I don't say this to try and hide some homosexual desire within me or anything like that--with the cast of characters and the reputation of the film, I was disappointed in how little I was moved by it. Nevertheless, I still believe it was a solid film.
Bite Down And Sleep
Getting my wisdom teeth taken out was the strangest experience I've had in quite some time. All I remember is watching the guy put the IV in my arm and BOOM, I wake up in a different room, extremely tired. I think I got into a wheel chair and they wheeled my to my dad's car. After that, nothing. I can't eat solid foods, which sucks because I've never before craved pizza as much as I do right now. But I'm going to watch movies today and review Funeral by Arcade Fire, so it will end up being a successful day.
Monday, August 9, 2010
An Empty Heart
How is it that I don't care about injustice, or kids on the street, or remodeling of a church? Yes, I have an opinion about these things, but there is no place in my heart that burns and cries and breaks for them- for anything. I am uncomfortably numb. How do you start caring about things? Probably living. Because I haven't had to care about anything here, in my rich, white, American life. I could just go to school and church and family functions and only concern myself with trivial and useless activities that I later grew to despise like basketball. I am the culmination of a life of selfishness, in that I have never cared about anything, so I don't care about everything. Is the solution to start caring about someting? I first thought about caring for others, intentionally acting to make others' lives happier or more pleasant or better. Maybe that's the way. But I want my heart to break for something like Cari's heart breaks for injustice. I want to care about something.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Garden State
After my second viewing of "Garden State," I realized a few things about the film.
First off, the whole movie essentially says this--this life is all we have, so we need to be with the ones we love. I know that when Andrew Largeman says this to his father, he dwindles between accepting contentment with where we are now, and doubting any form of afterlife. I'm pretty sure he chooses the latter, which saddens me; because if this life is all there is, and we have to make the most of every moment, because the only thing that matters is having fun and feeling loved; if that's all we have to live for and then we die and it all means nothing after that, then that fucking sucks. Seriously.
That means that everything we do is only for our own pleasure, and we don't mean anything. God. If we are only here to find love and feel accepted and feel good and learn and eat and then die, then the purpose of our lives are the fulfillment of our desires. Hedonism is god. Let us run wild and free, chasing the temptations of our bodies and souls, capturing them and allowing them to please our appetites until our legs twitch again, and another temptation finds our feet sprinting after their empty golden promises of happiness, satisfaction, and peace.
"Garden State" is a film I like when I don't think about it. For some reason, it feels good. It feels smart and sophisticated, and it being a bildungsroman makes me like it, because that is the genre I'm currently captivated with. It's funny, Natalie Portman's Sam is cute and cool, Zach Braff is cool; essentially, it's a movie of cool stuff.
In one scene, Largeman screams into an "infinite" abyss. I found this interesting about which to speculate. Why is he screaming? Is it venting from the built up anger about how he feels about paralyzing his mom? About her death? About the medications he seemingly no longer needs? About his controlling father? About the feelings he has inside of him that he doesn't understand but knows are torturing him? My sister speculated that maybe he was screaming into a place big enough to hold his problems. Maybe he was screaming to God, or what seemed like God. When he can't articulate words, he just makes sounds as loud as he can, and he feels better.
In a nutshell, this is what "Garden State" says: be yourself, love is out there for you and soothes the heartache like nothing else can, forgive others, and have a really cool soundtrack. It tries to say things that have been said before (kind of like what I did in this review). But it's different, cuz Zach Braff is saying it.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Zombieland
Zombieland was just fun. The script was decent, the acting was average (except I felt that Abigail Breslin tried too hard), the special effects were nothing special. But the jokes were funny enough (I laughed out loud twice, which is rare for me to do once), the actors were likable enough (I do like watching Jesse Eisenberg do his thing), and the movie pulled it somehow together so that I found myself enjoying this film.
This was only my second zombie film to date, the first Danny Boyle's zombie masterpiece "28 Days Later" (both films involve fast moving zombies), so I don't claim to be the genre expert. However, this film seemed to revel in mocking itself. Killing zombies becomes a game, something to be enjoyed, complete with a list of humorous rules and guns galore. And what this movie was ultimately trying to say (if we discard the "shoot-stuff-for-fun" allure) is that people need others. In this film, the four main characters needed each other not only to stay alive, but to thrive as humans. Which doesn't seem like a thing one would worry about in a zombie world. If you only exist to survive the zombies and it requires daily slayings of past people, why would you want to live? Is life worth it then? And that's my soap box on the philosophy of zombie movies.
Again, Jesse Eisenberg plays the nerdy twerp that becomes the beloved main character, a role that I have yet to tire of. He has that guy nailed down--but eventually (depending on how he did in "Holy Rollers" and "The Social Network") he will be forever considered the older brother of Michael Cera, but only because "Juno" was way bigger than "The Squid and the Whale."
This film does have some poignant moments, and at least one of these I didn't see coming. The first and most surprising was that Florida (Woody Harrelson) was trying to move on from his son's death, not his dog's. The filmmakers created a very surprising montage of memories Florida had had with his son, which were proceeded by one's of the same nature but with his dog. I didn't expect to be shocked, but I was. Secondly, I found it touching when Wichita tells Columbus her real name, even though that reveal has been vastly overdone. Nevertheless, it was nice here.
Ultimately, this film is about audiences enjoying watching people kill zombies. As that as it's goal, I'd say it does a pretty good job (I mean come on, it's hard to hate a film with a White Stripes song in it. Just sayin').
This was only my second zombie film to date, the first Danny Boyle's zombie masterpiece "28 Days Later" (both films involve fast moving zombies), so I don't claim to be the genre expert. However, this film seemed to revel in mocking itself. Killing zombies becomes a game, something to be enjoyed, complete with a list of humorous rules and guns galore. And what this movie was ultimately trying to say (if we discard the "shoot-stuff-for-fun" allure) is that people need others. In this film, the four main characters needed each other not only to stay alive, but to thrive as humans. Which doesn't seem like a thing one would worry about in a zombie world. If you only exist to survive the zombies and it requires daily slayings of past people, why would you want to live? Is life worth it then? And that's my soap box on the philosophy of zombie movies.
Again, Jesse Eisenberg plays the nerdy twerp that becomes the beloved main character, a role that I have yet to tire of. He has that guy nailed down--but eventually (depending on how he did in "Holy Rollers" and "The Social Network") he will be forever considered the older brother of Michael Cera, but only because "Juno" was way bigger than "The Squid and the Whale."
This film does have some poignant moments, and at least one of these I didn't see coming. The first and most surprising was that Florida (Woody Harrelson) was trying to move on from his son's death, not his dog's. The filmmakers created a very surprising montage of memories Florida had had with his son, which were proceeded by one's of the same nature but with his dog. I didn't expect to be shocked, but I was. Secondly, I found it touching when Wichita tells Columbus her real name, even though that reveal has been vastly overdone. Nevertheless, it was nice here.
Ultimately, this film is about audiences enjoying watching people kill zombies. As that as it's goal, I'd say it does a pretty good job (I mean come on, it's hard to hate a film with a White Stripes song in it. Just sayin').
Gone Baby Gone
Did he make the right choice or not? That is the question I have been asking myself after watching "Gone Baby Gone." If you are reading this, you have probably read my previous reviews (for lack of a better word) and know that I'm not about retelling plot. The little girl named Amanda is abducted, there is a search and no one finds her, Patrick (Casey Affleck) is the only one who still cares, and he eventually finds the girl under the care and protection of a retired cop who organized a heist to extract the girl from her destructive home life with her neglectful mother. Patrick has a choice--does he leave the girl with the cop, who will make sure that she has a proper, healthy childhood and will most likely put her on the road to having a normal life; or does he give the girl back to her mother, a woman addicted to drugs and alcohol who seemingly doesn't care for her daughter at all. He returns the girl to her mother did he make the right choice?
For a directorial debut, I'd say that Ben Affleck did an outstanding job with this piece. For me, it covers over his stale acting performances in sub-par films as an atonement for those sins. His brother Casey equally handles the pressure of the lead role with skill--he communicated anger, confusion, and uncertainty (among other things) in a way that didn't feel forced or overdone. For example, in one scene, Patrick is questioning if he handled the situation with a child-molester correctly, if killing the man was right. He says "murder is a sin." Police officer Remy Bressant (played by Ed Harris) replies that "it depends on who you do it to." But Patrick, unconvinced, responds "it doesn't work that way." Patrick has a strong inner conscience that provokes him to do what is right, even if it means risking his life, his girlfriend, or whatever else.
This is why Patrick has the girl returned to her mother. Yes, Amanda probably would have had a better life with Doyle, but the basic truth is she was stolen. She was taken from her home without consent. To Patrick, that is stealing. And stealing can't be justified, no matter how nice the birthday parties will be, or how fancy the car she is given, or even how much love she will receive. For Patrick, doing what's best does not outweigh doing what's right. That's hard for my brain to differentiate.
So what does this say about social services? What does this say about foster care and child support and all the other ways children are taken care of when their original family falls apart? Every other character in the film believed that returning the girl back to her mother would only put her in a detrimental situation; none of them believed that the mother would (or could, for that matter) change her lifestyle for the sake of Amanda. I wonder if Patrick did. I know he hoped she would. But in the final scene, as Helene rushes out for a date and Patrick is left watching over Amanda, Helene is still drinking, the apartment is still a mess (but looking better), it doesn't seem like Helene has changed her ways. When Patrick first walks in, it does; the apartment looks clean and Helene is dressed in nice clothes with her hair done. But then, piles of clothes are seen and the coffee table is a mess. I don't know if we are supposed to see change or not. I don't think Patrick knows either. So he is left wondering if he made the right decision as Amanda watches TV, and outside, somewhere more children are in the position she was in, and the world spins madly on.
For a directorial debut, I'd say that Ben Affleck did an outstanding job with this piece. For me, it covers over his stale acting performances in sub-par films as an atonement for those sins. His brother Casey equally handles the pressure of the lead role with skill--he communicated anger, confusion, and uncertainty (among other things) in a way that didn't feel forced or overdone. For example, in one scene, Patrick is questioning if he handled the situation with a child-molester correctly, if killing the man was right. He says "murder is a sin." Police officer Remy Bressant (played by Ed Harris) replies that "it depends on who you do it to." But Patrick, unconvinced, responds "it doesn't work that way." Patrick has a strong inner conscience that provokes him to do what is right, even if it means risking his life, his girlfriend, or whatever else.
This is why Patrick has the girl returned to her mother. Yes, Amanda probably would have had a better life with Doyle, but the basic truth is she was stolen. She was taken from her home without consent. To Patrick, that is stealing. And stealing can't be justified, no matter how nice the birthday parties will be, or how fancy the car she is given, or even how much love she will receive. For Patrick, doing what's best does not outweigh doing what's right. That's hard for my brain to differentiate.
So what does this say about social services? What does this say about foster care and child support and all the other ways children are taken care of when their original family falls apart? Every other character in the film believed that returning the girl back to her mother would only put her in a detrimental situation; none of them believed that the mother would (or could, for that matter) change her lifestyle for the sake of Amanda. I wonder if Patrick did. I know he hoped she would. But in the final scene, as Helene rushes out for a date and Patrick is left watching over Amanda, Helene is still drinking, the apartment is still a mess (but looking better), it doesn't seem like Helene has changed her ways. When Patrick first walks in, it does; the apartment looks clean and Helene is dressed in nice clothes with her hair done. But then, piles of clothes are seen and the coffee table is a mess. I don't know if we are supposed to see change or not. I don't think Patrick knows either. So he is left wondering if he made the right decision as Amanda watches TV, and outside, somewhere more children are in the position she was in, and the world spins madly on.
Milk
"Milk" is a film that won Sean Penn another Academy Award, that introduced several young actors as entering the field of serious and solid professionals, and, most importantly, brought the always hot-buttoned topic of homosexuality into the forefront of viewers' minds.
The film is not about the story of Harvey Milk, how he dies or anything like that; Harvey's slaying is told about at the beginning of the film. No, "Milk" is about the issue of discrimination, equality, and ultimately, acceptance. In the film, Milk says that it's not the person who is running for candidate, it's the issue. It's what he is fighting for. That's why the story of the film isn't central; what's central is the treatment of fellow human beings, who are homosexuals.
This film made me repeatedly consider what it means to be homosexual, because the characters portrayed as gay were over the top and excessive. In one scene, the whole gang is hanging out in the basement and had ordered pizza. The pizza guy delivers it, and the group more or less pounces on him, putting the money in his pants and ogling him. If this were a group of heterosexual men hitting on a delivery woman, she could sue for sexual harassment and all his friends would consider him the tool/douchebag. Is homosexuality the center of a gay's existence? Are their lives propelled around sex so that every encounter is just peripheral if it doesn't involve a possibility of sleeping together? In this film, homosexuality is rooted in the deep desire to have sexual encounters whenever and with whomever. Yes, people do become couples, but only so long as each person is happy with the other. As I write this, I realize this description of sexuality goes also for heterosexuals. One is only content while he/she is satisfied and/or happy; if not, it's on the next person who is beautiful, athletic, intelligent etc. What is sexuality then?
Is sexuality the deepest means of fulfillment for a hungry and lost world? Do we identify ourselves as homosexual or heterosexual because, for most of us, that's the most definite thing we know about ourselves and our purpose? We, for some reason, know that sleeping with x type of person is what we were made to do, what is right for us, and everything else in our live can be disorganized or chaotic, but at least we know that for sure. Sexuality is certainty. At least, for most of us.
People were telling Harvey Milk and other homosexuals that they were wrong in their certainty, that the way they behaved was not normal or natural or right. So what does one do when people challenge what they believe? For Milk, it was to fight back. He didn't just protest in the streets and let people stay safe in their communities; no, Milk went the one place where he would force others to acknowledge him--the government. Milk ran (repeatedly) for offices and finally won one. "A homosexual with power," Milk muses, "that's something to be scared of." With that power, Milk fought the bill that would have taken jobs away from every teaching homosexual and anyone who defended a homosexual. When standing back and looking at that bill, how could anyone call that just and right? A person is this way, so we'll take away their means of income and leave them stranded without any government support. How could anyone call that good, let alone Christian?
I digress. The film attempts to show the humanity of gays, as most other homosexual artwork does. They are humans, but more importantly, they are brothers, they are coworkers, they are best friends, they are librarians and coaches and teachers and business people. This is an issue that is close to home for everyone.
And with that, the film wants to give hope to those who have faced tremendous discrimination and hate, and feel lost. The filmmakers want gays to know that there are others out there, fighting for freedom against a seemingly unbeatable opponent. Director Gus Van Sant wants all those hiding to know that there is victory, there is a chance, there is hope.
The film is not about the story of Harvey Milk, how he dies or anything like that; Harvey's slaying is told about at the beginning of the film. No, "Milk" is about the issue of discrimination, equality, and ultimately, acceptance. In the film, Milk says that it's not the person who is running for candidate, it's the issue. It's what he is fighting for. That's why the story of the film isn't central; what's central is the treatment of fellow human beings, who are homosexuals.
This film made me repeatedly consider what it means to be homosexual, because the characters portrayed as gay were over the top and excessive. In one scene, the whole gang is hanging out in the basement and had ordered pizza. The pizza guy delivers it, and the group more or less pounces on him, putting the money in his pants and ogling him. If this were a group of heterosexual men hitting on a delivery woman, she could sue for sexual harassment and all his friends would consider him the tool/douchebag. Is homosexuality the center of a gay's existence? Are their lives propelled around sex so that every encounter is just peripheral if it doesn't involve a possibility of sleeping together? In this film, homosexuality is rooted in the deep desire to have sexual encounters whenever and with whomever. Yes, people do become couples, but only so long as each person is happy with the other. As I write this, I realize this description of sexuality goes also for heterosexuals. One is only content while he/she is satisfied and/or happy; if not, it's on the next person who is beautiful, athletic, intelligent etc. What is sexuality then?
Is sexuality the deepest means of fulfillment for a hungry and lost world? Do we identify ourselves as homosexual or heterosexual because, for most of us, that's the most definite thing we know about ourselves and our purpose? We, for some reason, know that sleeping with x type of person is what we were made to do, what is right for us, and everything else in our live can be disorganized or chaotic, but at least we know that for sure. Sexuality is certainty. At least, for most of us.
People were telling Harvey Milk and other homosexuals that they were wrong in their certainty, that the way they behaved was not normal or natural or right. So what does one do when people challenge what they believe? For Milk, it was to fight back. He didn't just protest in the streets and let people stay safe in their communities; no, Milk went the one place where he would force others to acknowledge him--the government. Milk ran (repeatedly) for offices and finally won one. "A homosexual with power," Milk muses, "that's something to be scared of." With that power, Milk fought the bill that would have taken jobs away from every teaching homosexual and anyone who defended a homosexual. When standing back and looking at that bill, how could anyone call that just and right? A person is this way, so we'll take away their means of income and leave them stranded without any government support. How could anyone call that good, let alone Christian?
I digress. The film attempts to show the humanity of gays, as most other homosexual artwork does. They are humans, but more importantly, they are brothers, they are coworkers, they are best friends, they are librarians and coaches and teachers and business people. This is an issue that is close to home for everyone.
And with that, the film wants to give hope to those who have faced tremendous discrimination and hate, and feel lost. The filmmakers want gays to know that there are others out there, fighting for freedom against a seemingly unbeatable opponent. Director Gus Van Sant wants all those hiding to know that there is victory, there is a chance, there is hope.
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