Here's the other, much longer story that I wrote. This one definitely needs a lot more work, so any feedback is much appreciated. Oh, and I still haven't really titled it, so any suggestions are welcome as well.
Walter found himself in a bit of a pickle. Not a real pickle, mind you. That would just be ridiculous. A better analogy would be to say that he was between a rock and a hard place. Only in this instance, his back was really against a rock, and the hard place was more like hard steel. Things did not look particularly good for Walter.
His opponent was formidable. It was obvious that he was a very experienced knight. His armor wasn’t nearly as bright and shiny as Walter’s was, nor was his blade nearly as sharp. It looked plain and very simple, but, unfortunately for Walter, quite strong. There were a few old dents in the side, and one very recent one from when Walter hit the knight when he wasn’t looking. That was what got Walter into this near-death position in the first place.
It’s not that Walter had never been in a battle before. In fact, he’d won his fair share of battles, and even killed in a few of them. Walter was the first and only son of a second-rate nobleman who was conned into some third-rate land, and he still thought he got a good deal out of it. Walter was looking forward to inheriting that land, lazing away drinking wine and chasing skirts. Walter couldn’t wait to grow old and rich while everyone else did the work.
Walter didn’t grow up alone though. He did have a bunch of sisters. Older sisters. Bigger sisters. Sisters who forced Walter to play their silly games, dressing him in all sorts of outrageous outfits and making him kiss the family pig. In the stories they created, the pig always turned into a handsome prince that married one of the sisters, depending on whose turn it was. Walter never did understand why he was the one who had to kiss the pig. If he kissed the pig, it should obviously turn into a princess, one with a big castle where he could drink wine and chase skirts. He didn’t really care if the princess was beautiful or not. He just wanted a castle. Walter did enjoy the outfits though. All the bright colors and patterns that made no sense. It made Walter feel frivolous. In reality, Walter didn’t know what frivolous meant, but it was the biggest word he knew how to say, so he tried to use it as often as he could. Walter’s father thought he looked like a sissy.
Walter’s father, whose name was also Walter, tried to make a man out of Walter. Walter taught Walter to fish, hunt, ride a horse, fight, and all sort of other skills one of his blood was due. Um…Walter the father taught Walter the son all those things. Right, this could get confusing. I think we’ll just call Walter the father W1 and Walter the son W2 for this part of the story. Of all the skills that W2 learned from his father, the activity he practiced the most was sword fighting. It made W2 feel strong and powerful; his noble blood pumping through his veins. Also, it got him out of playing kiss the pig with his sisters. In W1’s eyes, W2 became quite adept at the things he had been taught. W1 had great visions of his son winning the family glory and riches, allowing them to move up a whole peg to 1st rate nobles on 2nd rate land!
Alas, W1 was not nearly as good at these noble skills as he thought he was, and he was a much worse teacher. W2 learned the skills to the best of his limited ability, and used his skills to win his fair share of battles. Granted, most of these battles were against trees that couldn’t fight back and the rest against bound pigs he had to slaughter, but in W2’s mind, they were evil wizards and dragons, so it still counted. W2’s problem wasn’t that he was bad. That can always be fixed. His problem was that he didn’t realize that he was bad. People say that ignorance is bliss. In this case, ignorance could get you killed. The only people within miles of his land were the servants, and they knew nothing about these noble skills. After all, they were not noble. They did know a fool when they saw him though and would often mock W2 behind his back.
After years of perfecting mediocrity, W2 decided it was time to go out into the world and earn riches, save princesses, and chase skirts. Not wishing to see his son go out unprotected, W1 commissioned a brand new suit of armor for his son to wear, with intricate metalwork meant to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies. His mother, always congnizant of the family’s financial situation, made sure that W1 brought the coupon she had cut out of the weekly circulator when he went to pay for it. W2’s family waved to him as he rode out to explore the world, wishing him luck, praying for riches, and hoping he remembered to come back alive.
The world was very different then what Walter expected. At this point we can safely assume that all references to Walter can only refer to Walter the son. The world was much bigger, things were a lot farther apart, and the woman were much uglier. But the worst part of it was that there weren’t any adventures to go on. Walter expected ample opportunities to go adventuring, and he was thouroughly disappointed. Still, he looked like a noble knight in fancy armor, so the peasants in the towns he visited showed him some matter of respect.
That is, until he ran into another knight as he was traveling; a knight with not nearly as fancy armor as his own. To Walter, a knight’s standing was evident through his appearance, not his actions. Seeing this unknown knight in dented armor, Walter fully expected the knight to show him the respect his appearance demanded. The other knight just ignored Walter, barely even seeing him in the glare off the pristine armor. Offended, Walter drew his sword, as if to show that he was a knight to be respected. Walter also prayed that the other knight would be convinced enough to not fight back. The knight knew the actions of an amateur when he saw one, and not wishing to have a laugh escape his lips, the knight merely passed Walter silently. Angered at this knights lack of respect, Walter smacked the offender with the flat of his blade hard enough to add another dent in the used armor. Did I mention that Walter wasn’t particularly bright?
Surprisingly, Walter was holding his own. Oh, he was still in a pickle, but he was alive which, for someone of his ability, was quite impressive. Walter’s main problem, outside of his inexperience, was that his arms were getting tired. They’d been fighting for quite some time, and, while it was easy for him to take a break when he was fighting a tree, I mean an evil wizard, Walter had a sneaking suspicion that his opponent would not agree to break for a cup of tea. It was at this moment, while Walter was holding off a rather violent flurry from his homicidal opponent, that Walter slipped and ended up leaning against the wall.
Walter knew this was bad. If he was standing up, Walter at least had a remote chance of running away. On the ground, he was a turtle. A very tired turtle, lying on its shell with little chance of getting up quickly. The offended knight lept at the opportunity to finish off Walter, and in his homicidal rage, jumped up to land the killing blow. Walter was definitely scared and was pretty sure that he could see death foaming at the mouth. At this moment, it occurred to Walter that perhaps the other knight had been bitten by a rabid animal which would explain his sudden mood swing from disrespectful to homicidal. No life flashing before his eyes, no prayers for salvation to God, just a mental note not to pick a fight with a person with rabies. The next thing Walter knew, the other knight was lying dead on the ground with all but the hilt and a few inches of Walter’s sword in his body.
Walter was ecstatic. He didn’t know how, but he was alive which he thought was a good thing considering that he was pretty sure that wasn’t a likely outcome of the battle. For years, Walter would tell the story of how he killed the knight. As with any good story, it would be slightly embellished with each telling until Walter would recount how he had either killed a giant or 4 heavily armed knights on horses with one arm, the other one having been chopped off by a fifth, already dead knight, depending on Walter’s mood and alcoholic intake. At this point, someone generally pointed out to Walter that he still had both arms, making it rather difficult for it to have been chopped off since it was still attached. Walter insisted indignantly that his arm had grown back. The reality was that, while Walter was pondering what sort of rabid animal had bitten his opponent, some instict had caused him to lift his sword up. The semi-victorious knight, in his rabid rage, ran right onto the sword, body first, and, shocked to find half a sword in his body, promptly fell over and died, leaving Walter to survive. It was actually quite a considerate thing to do since Walter was not looking forward to his seemingly inevitable death. Exhausted from the fight, Walter stood up, brushed himself off, removed his sword from his recently deceased opponent, and said:
“I didn’t slip. I fell on purpose.”
Walter had recently taken to talking to himself or rather, it seemed to others that he was having a conversation with someone that only he could hear. The anonymous people of the towns he rode through often wondered if the stranger in the ridiculous armor was crazy.
“I’m not talking to myself, and I can’t have a conversation with someone who never talks back to me, now can I? I can’t help it if I hear a really annoying voice that tells any number of lies about me. I’m just trying to set the facts straight. It would seem that no one else hears this voice, but I’ll be damned if that’s going to make me have to listen to lies.”
A few more religious people in these towns wondered if Walter was perhaps a prophet, talking to a diety about the fate of the town. In order to curry favor with this potential prophet, they would send him gifts of food and wine. Walter graciously accepted their offers, believing that the people were treating him the way a knight aught to be treated. Rest assured, Walter was not a prophet. He just talked to himself all the time. Most people thought he was crazy.
“So that’s why they gave me all that food and wine! I have to admit that most of it wasn’t of particularly good quality, but it was better than the dried meats I had in my pack. If they had really wanted to curry favor with an alleged prophet, they should have sent me their daughters. Not that it really would have mattered, I’m not a prophet. I’m just a guy who hears an annoying voice in his head narrating every thing I do. On top of that, he doesn’t even tell it right. I was winning the fight the whole time. I was just letting the other guy think he had a chance. I fell on purpose to bring him closer to me so I could kill him. I do agree that it certainly looked like he had rabies though. I don’t know why else he wouldn’t properly show me respect.”
It was generally thought that talking to oneself was not in fact a sign of insanity. Many people talked to themselves while doing some activity, usually as a way to pass the time and stay entertained. However, people did think that conversing with oneself was a sign insanity, and Walter definitely seemed to be having a conversation with someone. It was beginning to get quite worrisome.
“…Walter definitely seemed to be having a conversation with someone. It was beginning to get quite worrisome. Oh, shut up already! It’s getting hard to hear myself think.”
No one could discern who Walter was talking to.
“I’m talking to you, you dolt, whomever you are! Ever since I left my house, you’ve been following me around, narrating everything I do. I know what just happened. I was the one doing it. Not to mention all the horrible lies you’ve been telling about me. I did not like dressing up! It’s not very knightly. Just shut up already!”
This was beginning to get disturbing.
“I should say so. You try having a voice follow you every where you go.”
Who are you talking to?
“Are you not paying attention? I’m talking to you, you stupid voice.”
You can hear me?
“What? Did you honestly think I was hearing voices? I heard one voice, yours. Only time I ever got a break from you was when I was sleeping. Narrating sleep isn’t very interesting, is it?”
You’re not supposed to hear me. No one’s ever heard me before.
“There are others?! Damn, I was at least hoping that I was the only one to have a voice follow them. Now, I’m not even special. And how can they not hear you? I would think that they couldn’t help but hear an annoying, voice that talks funny repeating everything they’ve just done.”
I don’t talk funny.
“Have you ever heard yourself speak?”
Of course.
“Well, then you know what I’m talking about.”
My voice is perfectly normal.
“Whatever. Don’t believe me. I’m just the one who hears you speak all the time. Look, can you just leave me alone?”
Sorry. I’m just doing what I’m told. I don’t really have a choice. It’s my job to tell the story.
“What do you mean, it’s your job to tell the story? It’s my life! You just tell what I’m doing anyway. All you have to do is stop speaking.”
It doesn’t work that way.
“Fine, then I’m just going to stand here and do nothing. If I don’t do anything, then you don’t have anything to tell.”
Walter stuck his tongue out at nobody in particular. He didn’t exactly know where the voice was coming from, so he just picked a direction and hoped the voice could see it. Walter wondered if voices had eyes. Deciding that it didn’t really matter, Walter leaned up against a tree and did nothing.
“STOP THAT! I’m not doing anything. You can’t narrate nothing! Who has ever heard a story where the guy does nothing? Not me, that’s for sure.”
Walter continued to do nothing. Occasionally this nothing was broken by yelling into the air at nothing in particular.
“I’m not yelling at nothing. I’m yelling at you. You really are an idiot.”
Look, I don’t really have a say in this. I speak and you do something. That’s how it works.
“What do you mean, you do what you’re told? Is there someone else there? Hey! Other person!
Will you tell him to shut up already? Besides, you always talk after I’ve done something, never before. Maybe you’re the crazy one, following respectable knights around and repeating everything they just did, as if they didn’t know?”
No…it just seems to you that I’m talking after you’ve done something. You’re so busy doing whatever it is that you’re doing that you don’t actually hear me until after the fact. At least, I think that’s how it works. Normally I don’t get into a conversation with the character I’m talking about.
“Okay…this is just getting weird. Obviously, I’m the one doing things, so you respond to me.”
I can’t even see you. I responded to an ad in the paper for a person who could tell stories well. I’ve always felt comfortable talking to people, have really good diction, and can do voices, so I got the job. The only reason you can’t hear me when you go to sleep is because you going to sleep magically happens to coincide with the end of my shift. You can’t have a story without someone telling it, so you just conveniently go to sleep.
“So, you’re telling a story about me?”
Not exactly. I was told to just sit here in my cubicle and speak. I’m not really making up the story though. The words just come out of my mouth on their own. I don’t know what frivolous means either. I’ll admit it’s a little weird, but the pay is good.
“So someone else wrote the story, and you read it?”
Were you not listening? I’m not reading anything. The words just come out of my mouth. The sign in the lobby says something about the voice being a vehicle.
“Who are you telling the story to anyway? Is anyone really that interested in what I’m doing?”
No idea. I clock in, sit down, and when the green light comes on, the words just start coming out of my mouth.
“That’s weird.”
You’re telling me. Try speaking without thinking. Wait…I’ve told enough of your story to know better than to say that.
“Very funny. Well, can’t you just not talk when the green light comes on. I mean, there’s no one making you talk.”
Technically not, but my paycheck gives me some pretty good incentive to do my job. Also, if I don’t narrate, I don’t think you can actually do anything.
“How do you know that? I don’t act just because you say so. You’re not all powerful. You don’t even know what frivolous means. You’re just a –what did you call it again?– a vehicle. What’s a vehicle?”
It’s sort of like a horse-drawn cart without the horse that still moves. I’m not exactly sure how that applies to story-telling, but I’m not paid to think. You’ve distracted me long enough. I need to get back to telling the story.
Walter crossed his arms and looked indignantly at no one in particular.
“Oh, that reminds me. Why is my name Walter? That’s not a very noble sounding name. Why can’t it be something memorable like… Aleren. Sir Aleren. That sounds much better. You don’t even call me Sir Walter. Just Walter and that whole W1, W2 thing. I thought that was really disrespectful. Do you want to end up like that knight?”
You really are quite thick, you realize that? I didn’t name you. You were named, and I spoke that name. That’s how it works. Enough with this foolishness.
“No.”
You tried this already. It didn’t work last time and it’s not going to work this time either.
“It’ll work if you do your part. Just get up and leave. I don’t know. Take a break. Go have a beer. You do have beer wherever you’re from, right?”
It’s 10 in the morning here.
“You’re point being?”
It’s too early to have a drink.
“Is the closest bar open?”
Um…yes. I get breakfast there sometimes.
“Then it’s not too early to have a drink.”
You’re really quite persistent, aren’t you?
“I just want to stop hearing voices.”
You have quite a way with words, do you realize that?
“What? Whatever. Just leave me alone. If you’re gone for 5 minutes, what’s the worst that could happen? He’s still dead and there’s no one around for miles.”
Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll be back.
“Finally, some peace of mind. Wait…let me test this out. You’re not still there, are you?”
…
“He really left. And I can still do stuff. Sweet. See…I didn’t need him. So why am I still talking to myself? Let me get out of here, things will be easier once I’m moving. Plus, I don’t really want to explain why there’s a dead body over there.”
“Um…where am I going? Usually I just start riding and the voice sort of clues me in on where I’m going. Why couldn’t someone have put a sign on this damn road. I think I’ll go that way.”
“This usually goes a lot faster. One minute I’m riding through a mountain pass, the next, I’m at some town. Actually doing the riding is pretty boring and long.”
“I think I’m starting to get some chafing.”
“Okay…this just sucks. Hey. Hey! Are you there? Can you help me out? Speed this up a bit or at least tell me where I’m going.”
…
“What are you? Some kind of alcholic? How many drinks do you need? Get back here and do your job. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Um…Off in the distance, Sir Aleren sees a beautiful princess on horseback being chased by 3 evil bandits. Sir Aleren rushes to save her, knowing it is his duty as a noble knight to defeat those terrible bandits.”
“Damnit. No bandits and no princess. That didn’t work.”
“Okay, let’s try this again. Off in the distance, Walter sees a beautiful princess on horseback being chased by 3 evil bandits. Walter rushes to save her, knowing it is his duty as a noble knight to defeat those terrible bandits.”
“Crap.”
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Runaway Fist
So...I've been really bad about posting and feel fairly guilty about it. I do have some books and such to review, so I'm going to write them up soon. But for now, I had mentioned writing a few stories and had been waiting on some feedback from a few people, but they didn't get back to me. So I'm just going to post them today and tomorrow, and have you guys be my feed back. They still need some work, so tell me what you think. This is the shorter of the two stories, and I'm not sold on the title yet, but I still think it's funny. Oh, and I've thought of building around this story but haven't figured out what to do with it yet.
Runaway Fist
Rich walked into his apartment after being away all weekend to find his roommate John lying on the couch watching TV with a frozen steak on half of his face.
“Dude! What the fuck happened to you? Why the fuck do you have a frozen steak on your face? That’s not one of the good steaks, is it?”
“Nah, man. It’s one of the ones we got on sale last month. Nothing happened. I’m fine.”
“Okay, the last time I walked in here and you had a steak covering half of your face, you got into a bar fight with a tranny. I’m pretty sure something happened.”
“I did not get into a bar fight.”
“Well, that’s good to know. I wasn’t going to drive you to your court date this time if you had. So what happened?”
“I fell down some stairs.”
“Bullshit. The only time that one works is if you’re an old lady and at the bottom of the stairs you yell: ‘Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.’”
“Ha. Fine. I went out last night and ended up going home with this girl.”
“Who? Ms. Olympia?”
“I don’t know. Some chick. I was drunk at the time.”
“Well, unless she’s one kinky bitch, I’m guessing she’s not the one who wrecked half your face.”
“No…that would have been her boyfriend.”
“John…How many times have I told you? The only time you go back with two people to their place is if they are both girls.”
“Thanks…I’ll try to remember that useful bit of information for when it might actually happen. Apparently, the girl I went home with wasn’t exactly single.”
“Eesh. I’m guessing that he walked in on you banging his girl?”
“Something like that. I tried to get out of there, but I sort of ran into a problem. Namely, his fist.”
“That sounds painful.”
“That’s what my face said. He only got me a couple times, but I wasn’t exactly in the best position to defend myself. I just sort of grabbed my pants and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could.”
“Was she hot?”
“I think so. I got pretty shitcanned last night. Ask Chuck. He was with me most of the night until he left with her friend.”
“Please tell me she was good at least.”
“Not sure. It sort of depends. Do I still have all my teeth?”
“Um…looks like you’re missing one.”
“Shit. I had a feeling I puked one up this morning. In that case, she wasn’t that good.”
“Damn man…What are you going to do now?”
“Well, this steak feels pretty good right now, but eating only makes my face hurt. Sunday Night game is about to start. Wanna grab me a beer and watch the game?”
“Sure. Just let me just throw this stuff in my room.”
Runaway Fist
Rich walked into his apartment after being away all weekend to find his roommate John lying on the couch watching TV with a frozen steak on half of his face.
“Dude! What the fuck happened to you? Why the fuck do you have a frozen steak on your face? That’s not one of the good steaks, is it?”
“Nah, man. It’s one of the ones we got on sale last month. Nothing happened. I’m fine.”
“Okay, the last time I walked in here and you had a steak covering half of your face, you got into a bar fight with a tranny. I’m pretty sure something happened.”
“I did not get into a bar fight.”
“Well, that’s good to know. I wasn’t going to drive you to your court date this time if you had. So what happened?”
“I fell down some stairs.”
“Bullshit. The only time that one works is if you’re an old lady and at the bottom of the stairs you yell: ‘Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.’”
“Ha. Fine. I went out last night and ended up going home with this girl.”
“Who? Ms. Olympia?”
“I don’t know. Some chick. I was drunk at the time.”
“Well, unless she’s one kinky bitch, I’m guessing she’s not the one who wrecked half your face.”
“No…that would have been her boyfriend.”
“John…How many times have I told you? The only time you go back with two people to their place is if they are both girls.”
“Thanks…I’ll try to remember that useful bit of information for when it might actually happen. Apparently, the girl I went home with wasn’t exactly single.”
“Eesh. I’m guessing that he walked in on you banging his girl?”
“Something like that. I tried to get out of there, but I sort of ran into a problem. Namely, his fist.”
“That sounds painful.”
“That’s what my face said. He only got me a couple times, but I wasn’t exactly in the best position to defend myself. I just sort of grabbed my pants and got the fuck out of there as fast as I could.”
“Was she hot?”
“I think so. I got pretty shitcanned last night. Ask Chuck. He was with me most of the night until he left with her friend.”
“Please tell me she was good at least.”
“Not sure. It sort of depends. Do I still have all my teeth?”
“Um…looks like you’re missing one.”
“Shit. I had a feeling I puked one up this morning. In that case, she wasn’t that good.”
“Damn man…What are you going to do now?”
“Well, this steak feels pretty good right now, but eating only makes my face hurt. Sunday Night game is about to start. Wanna grab me a beer and watch the game?”
“Sure. Just let me just throw this stuff in my room.”
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Bonding with Bond
Sigh...starting this post fairly late, but I promised one today.
I recently borrowed the first box in the 4 box Ultimate James Bond box set from one of my best friends. He's a huge Bond nut, and I've never seen the old ones all the way through. I've got time on my hands, so I figured I'd watch them. I remember being a lot younger (8ish?), and some TV channel would run one movie a night Bond marathons which I would watch with my parents. Unfortunately, I always had to go to bed before seeing the end, so I've seen the first half of most of the old Bond movies, just like I've seen the first half of the Ten Commandments. It was actually pretty funny because I had gone over to Ethan's place in DC to watch the NCAA title game and, as I was leaving because it was past his and Sara's bedtime, I asked him if I could borrow the first set. He paused and looked at me for about 3 seconds before saying okay. Knowing E as well as I do, I told him that I fully well understood that I was one of the privileged few allowed such an honor and promised to bring it back next time I came over. E and I have known each other our whole lives, our dads have been friends since they were about 3, we can joke around about stuff like this.
Anyway, included in the box set were 5 Bond movies, though the reality is that I feel like I should refer to this set the same way we referred to the Rocky 1-5 box set 1st year, namely, 4 Bond movies and that other movie starring a guy named James Bond. The contents of this set included Goldfinger, Diamonds are Forever, The Man with the Golden Gun, The Living Daylights, and The World is Not Enough (this is the one we pretend doesn't exist.). If you want to know what my problem is with The World is Not Enough, I think it can pretty much be summed up by saying that Denise Richard plays a Nuclear physicist. You can extrapolate from there.
For the rest of the set, my ranking would go as follows:
The Man with the Golden Gun-10.0 This is probably my favorite of the Bond movies. Christopher Lee is an awesome bad guy. Roger Moore makes a great Bond. That amazing 360 car trick. They're in Southeast Asia. And that duel between Scaramanga and Bond is just awesome. Highly recommend it.
Goldfinger-9.5 Roger Moore may play Bond in my favorite single Bond film, but Connery was the best Bond. I don't like it quite as much as Golden Gun, so it gets the 9.5, but it does introduce some of the most iconic Bond characters ever. I mean, if you mention Goldfinger, everyone knows you're talking about James Bond. Also, you have Odd Job and his judo chop and Pussy Galore. Where can you go wrong?
Diamonds are Forever-8.5/9.0 Another Bond classic. As usual, a good showing from Connery, though not my favorite Bond film. These Bond movies do seem to be obsessed with diamonds though. Here, Living Daylights, the one with Halle Berry, I'm sure there are others. Either way, still a really fun flick. The car chase with the cops in Las Vegas was great. It also has perhaps the funniest chase scene ever between a moon robot and guys in cars/three wheeled dirt bikes. Also, the blow up an oil rig at the end. I really enjoyed it, just doesn't stack up to the other two.
The Living Daylights-8.0 I liked the Living Daylights, but this was the worst movie of the this set since I'm not counting the fifth one. It's not that it's bad. Timothy Dalton makes a pretty good Bond. It just has to compete with 3 Bond classics, and it doesn't stack up. My main problem is that Bond seems to fall in love with the Bond girl. Look, it's well known that Bond was a player and slept with plenty of women, but he never, ever falls in love with them, Casino Royale being the exception. Part of what makes Bond, Bond is that he's so suave that even when the girls know he's seducing them, they fall for it anyway. Pussy Galore is a perfect example. Bond is straight up the man, but he never actually falls for any of the girls. In this one though, it seems pretty obvious that Bond falls head over heals for this girl, and I didn't like it. Call me a male chauvinist if you want, but Bond has a reputation to uphold, and Dalton and the script did not hold up their end of the bargain. Still, it's a good Bond movie.
I recently borrowed the first box in the 4 box Ultimate James Bond box set from one of my best friends. He's a huge Bond nut, and I've never seen the old ones all the way through. I've got time on my hands, so I figured I'd watch them. I remember being a lot younger (8ish?), and some TV channel would run one movie a night Bond marathons which I would watch with my parents. Unfortunately, I always had to go to bed before seeing the end, so I've seen the first half of most of the old Bond movies, just like I've seen the first half of the Ten Commandments. It was actually pretty funny because I had gone over to Ethan's place in DC to watch the NCAA title game and, as I was leaving because it was past his and Sara's bedtime, I asked him if I could borrow the first set. He paused and looked at me for about 3 seconds before saying okay. Knowing E as well as I do, I told him that I fully well understood that I was one of the privileged few allowed such an honor and promised to bring it back next time I came over. E and I have known each other our whole lives, our dads have been friends since they were about 3, we can joke around about stuff like this.
Anyway, included in the box set were 5 Bond movies, though the reality is that I feel like I should refer to this set the same way we referred to the Rocky 1-5 box set 1st year, namely, 4 Bond movies and that other movie starring a guy named James Bond. The contents of this set included Goldfinger, Diamonds are Forever, The Man with the Golden Gun, The Living Daylights, and The World is Not Enough (this is the one we pretend doesn't exist.). If you want to know what my problem is with The World is Not Enough, I think it can pretty much be summed up by saying that Denise Richard plays a Nuclear physicist. You can extrapolate from there.
For the rest of the set, my ranking would go as follows:
The Man with the Golden Gun-10.0 This is probably my favorite of the Bond movies. Christopher Lee is an awesome bad guy. Roger Moore makes a great Bond. That amazing 360 car trick. They're in Southeast Asia. And that duel between Scaramanga and Bond is just awesome. Highly recommend it.
Goldfinger-9.5 Roger Moore may play Bond in my favorite single Bond film, but Connery was the best Bond. I don't like it quite as much as Golden Gun, so it gets the 9.5, but it does introduce some of the most iconic Bond characters ever. I mean, if you mention Goldfinger, everyone knows you're talking about James Bond. Also, you have Odd Job and his judo chop and Pussy Galore. Where can you go wrong?
Diamonds are Forever-8.5/9.0 Another Bond classic. As usual, a good showing from Connery, though not my favorite Bond film. These Bond movies do seem to be obsessed with diamonds though. Here, Living Daylights, the one with Halle Berry, I'm sure there are others. Either way, still a really fun flick. The car chase with the cops in Las Vegas was great. It also has perhaps the funniest chase scene ever between a moon robot and guys in cars/three wheeled dirt bikes. Also, the blow up an oil rig at the end. I really enjoyed it, just doesn't stack up to the other two.
The Living Daylights-8.0 I liked the Living Daylights, but this was the worst movie of the this set since I'm not counting the fifth one. It's not that it's bad. Timothy Dalton makes a pretty good Bond. It just has to compete with 3 Bond classics, and it doesn't stack up. My main problem is that Bond seems to fall in love with the Bond girl. Look, it's well known that Bond was a player and slept with plenty of women, but he never, ever falls in love with them, Casino Royale being the exception. Part of what makes Bond, Bond is that he's so suave that even when the girls know he's seducing them, they fall for it anyway. Pussy Galore is a perfect example. Bond is straight up the man, but he never actually falls for any of the girls. In this one though, it seems pretty obvious that Bond falls head over heals for this girl, and I didn't like it. Call me a male chauvinist if you want, but Bond has a reputation to uphold, and Dalton and the script did not hold up their end of the bargain. Still, it's a good Bond movie.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Jungle Boogie
I promise entries tomorrow and most likely the day after. I've been working on a short story the past few days which will hopefully be finished, edited, and posted soon. Until then, here's something to keep you entertained.
Jungle Boogie by Kool and the Gang
Get Down, Get Down
Get Down, Get Down
(6x)
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
(Get It On)
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
(Get It On)
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
(Get Down With The Boogie)
Jungle Boogie
(Come & Shake It Around)
Jungle Boogie
(Help & Get Down)
Jungle Boogie
(Boogie Baby)
Jungle Boogie
(The Boogie)
Jungle Boogie
(Uhhuhuhhhu)
Jungle Boogie
(Get Down)
Jungle Boogie
(Get Boogie)
Jungle Boogie
(Let Me Jump In)
Jungle Boogie
(Down With The Boogie)
Get Down Get Down
Get Down Get Down
(10x)
Uh, Yea
Feel The Funk Ya'll
Let Me Feel The Load
Get Down With The Boogie
I'm Gonna Knock With The Jungle Boogie
Get Down
Get Down With The Boogie Say
Uhgh
Get Down Say Uhgh
Get Down Say Ugh
Till You Feel It Ya'll
Get Down Ya'll
Get Down
Get Funky Ya'll
With The Get Down
Jungle Boogie by Kool and the Gang
Get Down, Get Down
Get Down, Get Down
(6x)
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
(Get It On)
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
(Get It On)
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
Jungle Boogie
(Get Down With The Boogie)
Jungle Boogie
(Come & Shake It Around)
Jungle Boogie
(Help & Get Down)
Jungle Boogie
(Boogie Baby)
Jungle Boogie
(The Boogie)
Jungle Boogie
(Uhhuhuhhhu)
Jungle Boogie
(Get Down)
Jungle Boogie
(Get Boogie)
Jungle Boogie
(Let Me Jump In)
Jungle Boogie
(Down With The Boogie)
Get Down Get Down
Get Down Get Down
(10x)
Uh, Yea
Feel The Funk Ya'll
Let Me Feel The Load
Get Down With The Boogie
I'm Gonna Knock With The Jungle Boogie
Get Down
Get Down With The Boogie Say
Uhgh
Get Down Say Uhgh
Get Down Say Ugh
Till You Feel It Ya'll
Get Down Ya'll
Get Down
Get Funky Ya'll
With The Get Down
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Matzah...the official cracker of Jesus
Apologies for the infrequent posts recently. Life has been pretty boring, even to me, and I haven't really been inspired to write anything. Well, I have been sort of working on this short story I started. I can already tell I'm going to have to almost completely rewrite it, but at least I'll have a first draft done...eventually.
So I was reading this article on CNN.com today about a rabbi who was training for the Boston Marathon. Being that the marathon falls during Passover, the rabbi had to find an alternative to bread and pasta for the typical pre-race carb load up. So he is going to load up on matzah and potatoes instead. Also, he will not be attending a seder on the 2nd night of Passover, preferring to rest up for the race instead of participating in what will undoubtedly be a long evening between preparing for the seder, having the seder, and clean up afterwards. As a rabbi, this is somewhat controversial because, as the leader of the community, he has a responsibility to set an example. However, he is a Reform or liberal/secular rabbi and, after much thought and consult with a Conservative rabbi, decided that it was okay. Plus, he's running for charity and that is still a mitzvah. I still don't know how I feel about him missing second seder. I'm also a reform Jew and fairly secular, but Passover has been one of the few holidays I've tried to observe pretty strictly. On top of that, we almost always did two seders at my house (My dad was raised Orthodox though admittedly not very well.), well, at least the first half. The first time I did the second half of the seder was when I was in college. Still, I feel that a rabbi should be held to a higher standard. Granted, he is running for charity which is always a good thing, and both of my rabbis have not been particularly traditional. However, for some reason, I've always been fairly particular about the traditions that I do observe, and feel that at least a rabbi would do the same, making some attempt to have a 2nd seder, even if it is abbreviated.
For those readers who don't know much about Passover (all 4 of you that I know about and a few others I suspect), I'll give a little background on Passover for your enlightenment. If you've ever read the Bible or turned on the TV during Passover, you should know the story of Exodus, the flight of the Jews from Egypt. Passover, a holiday that lasts for 8 days, celebrates the escape from Egypt. As one of the most important Jewish holidays, the seder is the most important aspect of the holiday, during which we retell the story of Exodus with various symbolic food elements. Now, I'll admit that some of my best memories growing up deal with the seder. Everybody always comes to our house, and I definitely remember having upwards of 15-20 people at our house for seder. The main reason that everyone comes to our house is that my mom is probably the best cook that any of our friends know, especially for large groups, and the Passover feast is easily the best meal that I had all year growing up. I'm going home next weekend for seder, and I am really excited. On a side note, I have never actually seen the Charlton Heston epic “The Ten Commandments” in its entirety. I know, I know, “The Ten Commandments” and “Fiddler on the Roof” are required viewing for Jews of all religions, and, while I saw “Fiddler” in Hebrew School, I've only ever seen about the first half of “The Ten Commandments.” I remember watching it when I was fairly young and always having to go to bed before it ended. In case you haven't seen it, I'm pretty sure the running time of the movie is 40 years in the desert. I have seen “The Prince of Egypt” though which is not on the required Jewish viewing list.
Perhaps the funniest moment I've ever been the star of, and I've been part of many, came during a seder probably close to 20 years ago by now. As is traditionally done in seders across the country, we were going around the table reading the Haggadah or Passover story aloud, and it was my turn. I was probably 6 or 7 at the time. Something very young though of reading age. Anyway, I was reading my passage and came across the word “miracles.” However, I did not in fact read the word “miracles.” Instead, in my gusto to prove how good of a reader I was, I said the word “mackerals.” Needless to say, this resulted in an inordinate amount of laughter and a story I have never forgotten.
The reality is that I've always been fairly impressed with how well my mom took to the Jewish traditions, despite being raised Catholic, albeit in Spain. For those of you who don't know about the place of religion in Spain, Spain has become an increasingly secular country even though it is still affiliated with the Catholic Church. Very few of my friends go to Church in Spain, let alone believe. My mom has no intentions of ever converting, though the only times I ever see my mom go to Church are Christmas, Easter, and when my abuela comes to visit, but never had an issue with my sister and I being raised Jewish. I once caused a minor tiff amongst my parents when I mentioned how my dad would never marry someone who wouldn't be willing to raise the kids Jewish. Apparently my mom did not know this when they first got engaged. Oops. My bad.
Part of the holiday also includes some fairly strict dietary restrictions. Chief among them is that we cannot eat leavened bread. This restriction stems from when the Jews fled their homes in Egypt. They did not have time to allow the bread to rise, resulting in a flat bread that is the ancestor of matzah. Matzah is perhaps one of my least favorite foods, and all you goyim who rave about how good it is and buy it during Passover, aren't forced to eat it and not much else for a week straight. Try it some time. Also, for those of you who don't know, the famous Last Supper of Jesus was actually a Passover Seder. (Contrary to popular belief, Jesus was not actually Christian but Jewish) Inspired to look up Da Vinci's “Last Supper” right now, I'm pretty sure there is bread on the table. Not very historically accurate. Tsk, Tsk.
This finally leads us to the actual inspiration for this post. In the interesting, but otherwise unimportant article, I found that apparently the writer of the story has quite a funny way with words. The article says: “Matzoh is known to have a binding effect on the digestive tract.” Now, I don't know how many people reading this have been required to eat only matzah for a full week, but if you have, you'll know that a “binding effect” is putting it lightly. One of the things that matzah is used to symbolize during the seder is the bricks that the Jewish slaves were forced to make in Egypt. That's a pretty good thing to have matzah symbolize because, after you eat enough of it, your digestive tract feels like it's lined with cement. Among the many side effects of have cement throughout your entire digestive tract is that it does wonders for your colon, and I mean that as sarcastically as possible. At least this rabbi will be running after only a couple days of Passover, because I couldn't imagine running towards the end of the week. Of course, the good thing about Passover is that you eat so little that you drop about 5 pounds, but then you gorge yourself on pizza as soon as it's over, so never mind. Until next time.
Music listened to while writing this blog: David Bowie-Best of Bowie If you aren't a Bowie fan, go be one. Bowie is awesome!
So I was reading this article on CNN.com today about a rabbi who was training for the Boston Marathon. Being that the marathon falls during Passover, the rabbi had to find an alternative to bread and pasta for the typical pre-race carb load up. So he is going to load up on matzah and potatoes instead. Also, he will not be attending a seder on the 2nd night of Passover, preferring to rest up for the race instead of participating in what will undoubtedly be a long evening between preparing for the seder, having the seder, and clean up afterwards. As a rabbi, this is somewhat controversial because, as the leader of the community, he has a responsibility to set an example. However, he is a Reform or liberal/secular rabbi and, after much thought and consult with a Conservative rabbi, decided that it was okay. Plus, he's running for charity and that is still a mitzvah. I still don't know how I feel about him missing second seder. I'm also a reform Jew and fairly secular, but Passover has been one of the few holidays I've tried to observe pretty strictly. On top of that, we almost always did two seders at my house (My dad was raised Orthodox though admittedly not very well.), well, at least the first half. The first time I did the second half of the seder was when I was in college. Still, I feel that a rabbi should be held to a higher standard. Granted, he is running for charity which is always a good thing, and both of my rabbis have not been particularly traditional. However, for some reason, I've always been fairly particular about the traditions that I do observe, and feel that at least a rabbi would do the same, making some attempt to have a 2nd seder, even if it is abbreviated.
For those readers who don't know much about Passover (all 4 of you that I know about and a few others I suspect), I'll give a little background on Passover for your enlightenment. If you've ever read the Bible or turned on the TV during Passover, you should know the story of Exodus, the flight of the Jews from Egypt. Passover, a holiday that lasts for 8 days, celebrates the escape from Egypt. As one of the most important Jewish holidays, the seder is the most important aspect of the holiday, during which we retell the story of Exodus with various symbolic food elements. Now, I'll admit that some of my best memories growing up deal with the seder. Everybody always comes to our house, and I definitely remember having upwards of 15-20 people at our house for seder. The main reason that everyone comes to our house is that my mom is probably the best cook that any of our friends know, especially for large groups, and the Passover feast is easily the best meal that I had all year growing up. I'm going home next weekend for seder, and I am really excited. On a side note, I have never actually seen the Charlton Heston epic “The Ten Commandments” in its entirety. I know, I know, “The Ten Commandments” and “Fiddler on the Roof” are required viewing for Jews of all religions, and, while I saw “Fiddler” in Hebrew School, I've only ever seen about the first half of “The Ten Commandments.” I remember watching it when I was fairly young and always having to go to bed before it ended. In case you haven't seen it, I'm pretty sure the running time of the movie is 40 years in the desert. I have seen “The Prince of Egypt” though which is not on the required Jewish viewing list.
Perhaps the funniest moment I've ever been the star of, and I've been part of many, came during a seder probably close to 20 years ago by now. As is traditionally done in seders across the country, we were going around the table reading the Haggadah or Passover story aloud, and it was my turn. I was probably 6 or 7 at the time. Something very young though of reading age. Anyway, I was reading my passage and came across the word “miracles.” However, I did not in fact read the word “miracles.” Instead, in my gusto to prove how good of a reader I was, I said the word “mackerals.” Needless to say, this resulted in an inordinate amount of laughter and a story I have never forgotten.
The reality is that I've always been fairly impressed with how well my mom took to the Jewish traditions, despite being raised Catholic, albeit in Spain. For those of you who don't know about the place of religion in Spain, Spain has become an increasingly secular country even though it is still affiliated with the Catholic Church. Very few of my friends go to Church in Spain, let alone believe. My mom has no intentions of ever converting, though the only times I ever see my mom go to Church are Christmas, Easter, and when my abuela comes to visit, but never had an issue with my sister and I being raised Jewish. I once caused a minor tiff amongst my parents when I mentioned how my dad would never marry someone who wouldn't be willing to raise the kids Jewish. Apparently my mom did not know this when they first got engaged. Oops. My bad.
Part of the holiday also includes some fairly strict dietary restrictions. Chief among them is that we cannot eat leavened bread. This restriction stems from when the Jews fled their homes in Egypt. They did not have time to allow the bread to rise, resulting in a flat bread that is the ancestor of matzah. Matzah is perhaps one of my least favorite foods, and all you goyim who rave about how good it is and buy it during Passover, aren't forced to eat it and not much else for a week straight. Try it some time. Also, for those of you who don't know, the famous Last Supper of Jesus was actually a Passover Seder. (Contrary to popular belief, Jesus was not actually Christian but Jewish) Inspired to look up Da Vinci's “Last Supper” right now, I'm pretty sure there is bread on the table. Not very historically accurate. Tsk, Tsk.
This finally leads us to the actual inspiration for this post. In the interesting, but otherwise unimportant article, I found that apparently the writer of the story has quite a funny way with words. The article says: “Matzoh is known to have a binding effect on the digestive tract.” Now, I don't know how many people reading this have been required to eat only matzah for a full week, but if you have, you'll know that a “binding effect” is putting it lightly. One of the things that matzah is used to symbolize during the seder is the bricks that the Jewish slaves were forced to make in Egypt. That's a pretty good thing to have matzah symbolize because, after you eat enough of it, your digestive tract feels like it's lined with cement. Among the many side effects of have cement throughout your entire digestive tract is that it does wonders for your colon, and I mean that as sarcastically as possible. At least this rabbi will be running after only a couple days of Passover, because I couldn't imagine running towards the end of the week. Of course, the good thing about Passover is that you eat so little that you drop about 5 pounds, but then you gorge yourself on pizza as soon as it's over, so never mind. Until next time.
Music listened to while writing this blog: David Bowie-Best of Bowie If you aren't a Bowie fan, go be one. Bowie is awesome!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Mi vida elegida
So I attempted to write this post yesterday, and it was complete shite, so I'm giving his a second go. On a side note, I recommend the new link I just posted. Really interesting essay out of The Barcelona Review.
I alluded the other day to my overall philosophy on life, promising a more involved explanation of the theory at a later date...today. I don't know how much you guys know about chaos theory, but, if I understand it even somewhat (which is about as far as I'll go), the basic idea is that a very small initial action can lead to a significant and much greater end result that is, in fact, not random. The common metaphor I've heard and will promptly butcher for this theory is the beating of a butterfly's wings in China can cause a hurricane in the Caribbean. In a way, this is how I envision life working. Life is a sequence of infinite choices that can lead to often unpredictable, though not random, results. To me, this makes every choice you make, no matter how small it mean seem to be, important because there is no telling what futures a seemingly insignificant choice has both created and destroyed.
Now some would argue that the path you end up on throughout your whole life is actually the only path you could have taken. You are thus fated to one specific destiny that is immutable. These people are determinists and I have to respectfully disagree. Well, that's not completely true. I will give them this, I have to be the person I am right now, and could not possibly be any other person that who I am. However, this is not because of some predetermined plan ordered by a higher being. I happen to believe that, should Gd exist, Gd is an inactive player in our lives. Gd gave man free will and left us do the rest from there. Rather, we are the people we can be right now because the sequence of choices that we have made created a unique path that could only lead to one result, the person we are now. There is no telling what kind of person we would be right now if we had made different choices, but I know absolutely that one single different choice, no matter how insignificant, would result in a different person, though maybe only slightly, then I am right now, lying on my bed, unemployed, ultimately a happy person, writing this post.
Take a second to think back to any even somewhat important choice you've made, and now make think about the alternative whether it's deciding to go to a different university, accepting a different job offer, or something as simple as a message you decide not to send. Now try to work your way forward again. Every single thing that happened as a result of that decision is now altered and perhaps even annulled. Ask yourself, am I still living where I'm living, friends with who I'm friends with, working where I'm working, reading these words at this very moment? Who even knows, and it's a hell of a mindfuck, but that's not what really matters. What actually matters is the reality we are living in, a reality of our own creation, resulting from choices we knowingly made. Where I disagree with the determinists is that we don't have to be the people we are today. We could have been any of an infinite set of variations, we're the way we are not from a set of external factors that we have no control over (Gd, fate, what have you), but rather from a set of internal ones that we do control. Our past is a straight line ending in the point that is who we are at this very moment.
Now, I don't mean to suggest that external factors have no influence on our lives. That's absurd; of course they do. Nurture plays a huge factor in our personality and how we make our choices. How and where we were raised, the opportunities afforded to us, the things we see as we grow up are all incredibly important. These are the things that when we make any decision, when we stick the two choices on a scale, help us to determine which side gets more weight. I will admit that nature probably has some effect, but it is not the dominant factor that nurture is. However, it is still a choice, and we can either let these factors control our decision-making process or simply use them as tools to help us make that choice. The key is that there are always two alternatives, regardless as to how unappealing one might seem at the time. As I argued before, there's no telling where a decision might lead, meaning that a seemingly unimaginable option now could lead to a far better future than the other, more attractive one. Because you have no idea what is going to happen in the future, you shouldn't be so rash to ignore an alternative just because it seems difficult, unattractive, or scary. Everything has worth and can lead to something amazing in the future. I often jest that my New Year's resolution is simply getting to date two due to a rough set of first dates I've had that frustratingly at the time didn't lead anywhere. My real New Year's resolution though is this: To push the boundaries of who I am and what I'm comfortable with because who knows what experiences I may be missing out on simply because I'm too afraid to try. I think so far, it's done me pretty well, and I only hope it gets better.
The whole point of the philosophy, and why I get increasingly frustrated with a lot of post-modern fiction writing, is that we are responsible for our own lot of life. It's not somebody else's fault that we may be unhappy or unsure of ourselves. We put ourselves in the position we find ourselves today, and only we can get ourselves out of it by making taking the alternative route. We control the way our life turns out. If you're unhappy, obviously the choices you've been making are not leading to your eventual happiness, so make different ones. I'm not going to stand here and say that it's easy to do such things; often it is extremely difficult. But it's not impossible. Nothing is. I unabashedly admit to being an optimist because I know for a fact that despite the future's unpredictable nature, it has the potential to lead us to happiness, as long as we aren't too afraid to act on the opportunity. The past may be a straight line, but I guarantee you that the future is not. It is an infinite and complex web of choices, and all we can do is hope that we make the choices that lead to the happiest outcomes. I accepted this a long time ago, and because of it, I don't regret anything that has happened to me in the past, as bad as it may have seemed at the time. If things had been different, I could very easily have missed out on the really good things that have come into my life recently. Maybe the alternative would have been better, but I don't let the anxiety of What if? keep me awake at night. Instead, I embrace the life I am living right now.
Music listened to while writing this post: Daft Punk-Alive (2007)
I alluded the other day to my overall philosophy on life, promising a more involved explanation of the theory at a later date...today. I don't know how much you guys know about chaos theory, but, if I understand it even somewhat (which is about as far as I'll go), the basic idea is that a very small initial action can lead to a significant and much greater end result that is, in fact, not random. The common metaphor I've heard and will promptly butcher for this theory is the beating of a butterfly's wings in China can cause a hurricane in the Caribbean. In a way, this is how I envision life working. Life is a sequence of infinite choices that can lead to often unpredictable, though not random, results. To me, this makes every choice you make, no matter how small it mean seem to be, important because there is no telling what futures a seemingly insignificant choice has both created and destroyed.
Now some would argue that the path you end up on throughout your whole life is actually the only path you could have taken. You are thus fated to one specific destiny that is immutable. These people are determinists and I have to respectfully disagree. Well, that's not completely true. I will give them this, I have to be the person I am right now, and could not possibly be any other person that who I am. However, this is not because of some predetermined plan ordered by a higher being. I happen to believe that, should Gd exist, Gd is an inactive player in our lives. Gd gave man free will and left us do the rest from there. Rather, we are the people we can be right now because the sequence of choices that we have made created a unique path that could only lead to one result, the person we are now. There is no telling what kind of person we would be right now if we had made different choices, but I know absolutely that one single different choice, no matter how insignificant, would result in a different person, though maybe only slightly, then I am right now, lying on my bed, unemployed, ultimately a happy person, writing this post.
Take a second to think back to any even somewhat important choice you've made, and now make think about the alternative whether it's deciding to go to a different university, accepting a different job offer, or something as simple as a message you decide not to send. Now try to work your way forward again. Every single thing that happened as a result of that decision is now altered and perhaps even annulled. Ask yourself, am I still living where I'm living, friends with who I'm friends with, working where I'm working, reading these words at this very moment? Who even knows, and it's a hell of a mindfuck, but that's not what really matters. What actually matters is the reality we are living in, a reality of our own creation, resulting from choices we knowingly made. Where I disagree with the determinists is that we don't have to be the people we are today. We could have been any of an infinite set of variations, we're the way we are not from a set of external factors that we have no control over (Gd, fate, what have you), but rather from a set of internal ones that we do control. Our past is a straight line ending in the point that is who we are at this very moment.
Now, I don't mean to suggest that external factors have no influence on our lives. That's absurd; of course they do. Nurture plays a huge factor in our personality and how we make our choices. How and where we were raised, the opportunities afforded to us, the things we see as we grow up are all incredibly important. These are the things that when we make any decision, when we stick the two choices on a scale, help us to determine which side gets more weight. I will admit that nature probably has some effect, but it is not the dominant factor that nurture is. However, it is still a choice, and we can either let these factors control our decision-making process or simply use them as tools to help us make that choice. The key is that there are always two alternatives, regardless as to how unappealing one might seem at the time. As I argued before, there's no telling where a decision might lead, meaning that a seemingly unimaginable option now could lead to a far better future than the other, more attractive one. Because you have no idea what is going to happen in the future, you shouldn't be so rash to ignore an alternative just because it seems difficult, unattractive, or scary. Everything has worth and can lead to something amazing in the future. I often jest that my New Year's resolution is simply getting to date two due to a rough set of first dates I've had that frustratingly at the time didn't lead anywhere. My real New Year's resolution though is this: To push the boundaries of who I am and what I'm comfortable with because who knows what experiences I may be missing out on simply because I'm too afraid to try. I think so far, it's done me pretty well, and I only hope it gets better.
The whole point of the philosophy, and why I get increasingly frustrated with a lot of post-modern fiction writing, is that we are responsible for our own lot of life. It's not somebody else's fault that we may be unhappy or unsure of ourselves. We put ourselves in the position we find ourselves today, and only we can get ourselves out of it by making taking the alternative route. We control the way our life turns out. If you're unhappy, obviously the choices you've been making are not leading to your eventual happiness, so make different ones. I'm not going to stand here and say that it's easy to do such things; often it is extremely difficult. But it's not impossible. Nothing is. I unabashedly admit to being an optimist because I know for a fact that despite the future's unpredictable nature, it has the potential to lead us to happiness, as long as we aren't too afraid to act on the opportunity. The past may be a straight line, but I guarantee you that the future is not. It is an infinite and complex web of choices, and all we can do is hope that we make the choices that lead to the happiest outcomes. I accepted this a long time ago, and because of it, I don't regret anything that has happened to me in the past, as bad as it may have seemed at the time. If things had been different, I could very easily have missed out on the really good things that have come into my life recently. Maybe the alternative would have been better, but I don't let the anxiety of What if? keep me awake at night. Instead, I embrace the life I am living right now.
Music listened to while writing this post: Daft Punk-Alive (2007)
Sunday, April 6, 2008
What's your 20?
The following post is a reaction to this article on CNN.com about relationships and Facebook.
The relationship status has been an aspect of Facebook since its inception. I'm old enough to remember when Facebook first invaded UVa, among the first group of schools that was part of the site, and I remember gleefully starting to construct my profile, adding friends, narrowing down my favorite books/movies, and declaring my relationship status (taken) at the time. I also remember when I was no longer in that relationship, and as a result, my declaration of status changed with it. To many, declaring yourself in a relationship is a badge of honor. It is a declaration not only to all your friends that you are no longer wallowing in singlehood, but also to your new significant other that you are taking a purposeful and committed first step. Moreover, it is a confirmation to the self; a comforting symbol that you have found someone that you look forward to waking up next to in the morning (always my favorite part and significant for its purity).
Similarly, removing that status and converting it to single or nothing at all, can be as painful as the opposite is joyous. It exposes the relationship for what it ultimately was, an imposter. Granted, dating is a process and, as I'm discovering, often a numbers game. You go on a first date, and hopefully a second or a third. If it doesn't work out, you learn something from the experience. What are the characteristics that you need the other person to have. What you're willing to accept and put up with, and what you can't possibly tolerate. That being said, all those failed relationships are still imitations of the one you're really looking for. The reality is that we're all looking for that one last relationship; the one to end all the searching. As Hitch put it quite eloquently, we're searching for that last first kiss. Changing your status from “in a relationship” to “single” is a constant reminder that you are still looking. (Now seems to be a perfectly good time to admit, in case you haven't figured it out already, that I am a bit of a romantic and do believe in true love. I'm try not to be particularly cynical.) It's even more jarring when that status is changed on you.
I think we can all admit that, among friends, it is one of the most talked and gossiped about pieces of information on Facebook. No one really cares which Harry Potter character you are or what your favorite sports teams are, but the second that the status changes, it grabs people's attention. (Thank you News Feed!) Condolences if you've recently broken up, mass stalkings if you declare yourself “In a relationship,” and the attention garnered by a change to “engaged” is unparalleled. We, ourselves, often enjoy making the changes in status because it makes it official and more real. If you've just broken up, it's the first step you taking towards healing.
Yet, in many ways, it's a sad statement that Facebook is what tells us that a relationship status is official. We should be the ones who confirm to ourselves whether a relationship is official. As I ranted about in my last post, there is a constant state of anxiety in our generation with respect to identity and authenticity and our search for it. Of all things, Facebook is providing that for us, and what does that really say about our clawing desperation to find the authentic? Facebook is an Internet website; it exists in a bunch of servers and electrons. Hell, I have no idea how my wireless Internet even works, but I know that when I hit “Publish Post,” somehow everything I've just typed will get posted onto my blog which exists out there somewhere. If I type into my GPS, do you think it will find it? The point being that we get our source of authenticity from something that has no real substance. Plenty of people mock Facebook's relationship status option by being “married” to best friends or other such false relationships, easily destroying the credibility of that declaration. My sister is guilty of this seemingly innocuous stab at the authentic. This is exactly what many artists of all medium, writers, poets, painters, photographers, struggle with or point out in their works. Rene Magritte's The Treachery of Images is a good example of a painter exposing the problems of authenticity.
I felt that the article ended rather humorously, considering that one of the young college students makes an off-handed remark about now knowing what people did before Facebook. I remember what I did before Facebook...I used a lot of AIM, and I talked to people in person. What a crazy concept. Now, I'll admit that I'm not a really big phone person, and often communicate with friends via Facebook, text message (tex mex as my mom would say), or email. But those options don't really compare to hearing someone's voice, and even less so to talking to someone in person. It would seem now that, for some reason, as the degree of distance increases between the lines of communication, the authenticity of that information increases which seems a bit ass backwards.
All this being said, am I going to resist declaring myself in a relationship when I am in one again? Doubtful, for the same reasons that everyone else does it. However, what Facebook says about my relationship or lack there of in the electronic universe does not determine what my status actually is. It is simply a response to an actual reality, and it's the reality of dating that I look forward to and enjoy much more than what Facebook says about my dating life.
Music listened to while writing this post: Keane-Under the Iron Sea (Great album) and Kings of Convenience-Quiet is the New Loud.
The relationship status has been an aspect of Facebook since its inception. I'm old enough to remember when Facebook first invaded UVa, among the first group of schools that was part of the site, and I remember gleefully starting to construct my profile, adding friends, narrowing down my favorite books/movies, and declaring my relationship status (taken) at the time. I also remember when I was no longer in that relationship, and as a result, my declaration of status changed with it. To many, declaring yourself in a relationship is a badge of honor. It is a declaration not only to all your friends that you are no longer wallowing in singlehood, but also to your new significant other that you are taking a purposeful and committed first step. Moreover, it is a confirmation to the self; a comforting symbol that you have found someone that you look forward to waking up next to in the morning (always my favorite part and significant for its purity).
Similarly, removing that status and converting it to single or nothing at all, can be as painful as the opposite is joyous. It exposes the relationship for what it ultimately was, an imposter. Granted, dating is a process and, as I'm discovering, often a numbers game. You go on a first date, and hopefully a second or a third. If it doesn't work out, you learn something from the experience. What are the characteristics that you need the other person to have. What you're willing to accept and put up with, and what you can't possibly tolerate. That being said, all those failed relationships are still imitations of the one you're really looking for. The reality is that we're all looking for that one last relationship; the one to end all the searching. As Hitch put it quite eloquently, we're searching for that last first kiss. Changing your status from “in a relationship” to “single” is a constant reminder that you are still looking. (Now seems to be a perfectly good time to admit, in case you haven't figured it out already, that I am a bit of a romantic and do believe in true love. I'm try not to be particularly cynical.) It's even more jarring when that status is changed on you.
I think we can all admit that, among friends, it is one of the most talked and gossiped about pieces of information on Facebook. No one really cares which Harry Potter character you are or what your favorite sports teams are, but the second that the status changes, it grabs people's attention. (Thank you News Feed!) Condolences if you've recently broken up, mass stalkings if you declare yourself “In a relationship,” and the attention garnered by a change to “engaged” is unparalleled. We, ourselves, often enjoy making the changes in status because it makes it official and more real. If you've just broken up, it's the first step you taking towards healing.
Yet, in many ways, it's a sad statement that Facebook is what tells us that a relationship status is official. We should be the ones who confirm to ourselves whether a relationship is official. As I ranted about in my last post, there is a constant state of anxiety in our generation with respect to identity and authenticity and our search for it. Of all things, Facebook is providing that for us, and what does that really say about our clawing desperation to find the authentic? Facebook is an Internet website; it exists in a bunch of servers and electrons. Hell, I have no idea how my wireless Internet even works, but I know that when I hit “Publish Post,” somehow everything I've just typed will get posted onto my blog which exists out there somewhere. If I type into my GPS, do you think it will find it? The point being that we get our source of authenticity from something that has no real substance. Plenty of people mock Facebook's relationship status option by being “married” to best friends or other such false relationships, easily destroying the credibility of that declaration. My sister is guilty of this seemingly innocuous stab at the authentic. This is exactly what many artists of all medium, writers, poets, painters, photographers, struggle with or point out in their works. Rene Magritte's The Treachery of Images is a good example of a painter exposing the problems of authenticity.
I felt that the article ended rather humorously, considering that one of the young college students makes an off-handed remark about now knowing what people did before Facebook. I remember what I did before Facebook...I used a lot of AIM, and I talked to people in person. What a crazy concept. Now, I'll admit that I'm not a really big phone person, and often communicate with friends via Facebook, text message (tex mex as my mom would say), or email. But those options don't really compare to hearing someone's voice, and even less so to talking to someone in person. It would seem now that, for some reason, as the degree of distance increases between the lines of communication, the authenticity of that information increases which seems a bit ass backwards.
All this being said, am I going to resist declaring myself in a relationship when I am in one again? Doubtful, for the same reasons that everyone else does it. However, what Facebook says about my relationship or lack there of in the electronic universe does not determine what my status actually is. It is simply a response to an actual reality, and it's the reality of dating that I look forward to and enjoy much more than what Facebook says about my dating life.
Music listened to while writing this post: Keane-Under the Iron Sea (Great album) and Kings of Convenience-Quiet is the New Loud.
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