Friday, June 26, 2015
Closure
Obviously, this isn't a daily thing anymore. It was fun while it lasted - a nice little experiment. Maybe I'll still update it if I decide to turn it into a real blog (read: not a journal), but it's served its purpose.
Monday, June 22, 2015
The Faceless Are All Ok
Some people have an immense amount of talent, and find venues for this talent within the society that they live in, creating something fruitful out of it and becoming well known and loved by many for doing what they do well. Some people are in the right place at the right time, and manage to find success simply because they were able to take advantage of their circumstances.
I'm not talking about people who make a lot of money, although that usually ends up being the case anyway. I'm talking about people who find a way to live that other people can appreciate, and that are able to live their lives in an immediately apparent and fulfilling way. Steve Jobs built a corporate empire that continues to improve the lives of many and has directly affected the evolution of modern society. Jerry Seinfeld is an extremely talented and unique comedian that created a sitcom that's almost universally beloved, and is one of the most widely referenced pieces of pop culture. Martin Luther King Jr. used his experience with suffering and his skill in rhetoric to make the world a genuinely better and more accepting place. As you can see, there's a wide range of ways to cement yourself in history as someone who's done something "good" with their life.
But there's also a lot of people who don't get known for what they do. The faceless worker bees of society, the lost soul who can't seem to find their place in life, those who are sick and unable to live their lives the way that they want to. They're people, with thoughts and talents and work that they complete just like people that everybody knows and sees as successful. But unlike celebrities and public figures, nobody can see what they do or who they are at first glance. Their public identity doesn't reflect who they are. Does this make them lesser people? I really don't think so.
Struggling with who you are and what you can do is all too common. A lot of people worry that they aren't successful or famous or loved or perceived as important. But I don't think anyone has to be. Everyone has a different purpose in life, and nobody is worth less because their purpose is "smaller" than someone else. Every piece of the puzzle is important. Jerry Seinfeld and the barista who filled your coffee at Starbucks and your middle school math teacher are all human beings, living their own lives with their own philosophies and thoughts and talents and ideas. And not everyone gets to use their talent - sometimes people are robbed of this chance by illness, or don't have the support that they need to cultivate their particular talent. An unfortunate truth, yes, but not one that diminishes the intrinsic worth of the human soul.
Mother Teresa once said, “It is not the magnitude of our actions, but the amount of love that is put into them that matters.” Wise words to live by. "Success" is less about how many people see and acknowledge what you do, or even benefit from what you do, and a lot more about the intention that goes into what you do and doing the best that you can do with what you're given.
I'm not talking about people who make a lot of money, although that usually ends up being the case anyway. I'm talking about people who find a way to live that other people can appreciate, and that are able to live their lives in an immediately apparent and fulfilling way. Steve Jobs built a corporate empire that continues to improve the lives of many and has directly affected the evolution of modern society. Jerry Seinfeld is an extremely talented and unique comedian that created a sitcom that's almost universally beloved, and is one of the most widely referenced pieces of pop culture. Martin Luther King Jr. used his experience with suffering and his skill in rhetoric to make the world a genuinely better and more accepting place. As you can see, there's a wide range of ways to cement yourself in history as someone who's done something "good" with their life.
But there's also a lot of people who don't get known for what they do. The faceless worker bees of society, the lost soul who can't seem to find their place in life, those who are sick and unable to live their lives the way that they want to. They're people, with thoughts and talents and work that they complete just like people that everybody knows and sees as successful. But unlike celebrities and public figures, nobody can see what they do or who they are at first glance. Their public identity doesn't reflect who they are. Does this make them lesser people? I really don't think so.
Struggling with who you are and what you can do is all too common. A lot of people worry that they aren't successful or famous or loved or perceived as important. But I don't think anyone has to be. Everyone has a different purpose in life, and nobody is worth less because their purpose is "smaller" than someone else. Every piece of the puzzle is important. Jerry Seinfeld and the barista who filled your coffee at Starbucks and your middle school math teacher are all human beings, living their own lives with their own philosophies and thoughts and talents and ideas. And not everyone gets to use their talent - sometimes people are robbed of this chance by illness, or don't have the support that they need to cultivate their particular talent. An unfortunate truth, yes, but not one that diminishes the intrinsic worth of the human soul.
Mother Teresa once said, “It is not the magnitude of our actions, but the amount of love that is put into them that matters.” Wise words to live by. "Success" is less about how many people see and acknowledge what you do, or even benefit from what you do, and a lot more about the intention that goes into what you do and doing the best that you can do with what you're given.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Framework of Creation
It's amazing how the pieces of things come together to create something so much larger than their individual parts.
This has always been fascinating. I first realized how amazing it is when I was very little, watching the construction of a bridge or a part of a highway or something similar. I would see it every time I was on that highway, which was often. Over time, what was originally a bunch of pillars and iron bars and randomly placed cranes and irate workers became something that had a definite form and shape to it, and was not only aesthetically appealing but also useful - a far cry from its skeletal beginnings.
The three instances I find this to be most apparently amazing in are:
Art,
Language,
And music.
Art by itself is lines and shapes. Every piece of art begins with a single stroke, and then another, and then another, and then you add some color, you move onto another set of lines and strokes and shapes, and before you know it you have something that doesn't look anything like a bunch of lines and shapes, but like something with substance, a real piece of art. Look at this, for example:
It's quite nice to look at. Yet it began with lines and shapes. In fact, it still is lines and shapes and splashes of color. But we don't see that - the finished product is something entirely beyond its individual parts, the sum of those parts creating something absolutely impossible to see when those parts are perceived on their own.
Words are the same way. I've spent a good amount of my life studying Japanese - 日本語. The reason it interests me is that it's a logographic language - to most Americans it looks like a bunch of random shapes. Yet, if you can decipher and interpret those shapes and symbols, they cease to become shapes and they become a means of communication and expression. Some people can't read the Arabic alphabet that we use in western culture. Since we learn how to read at such an early age, it becomes something that's totally second nature to us, like breathing. Yet, looking at a language you once could not understand and then being able to read it really opens your eyes as to how beautifully complex words and letters and written language are. Learning Japanese, learning an entire system of writing, you realize how you have to take it step by step, and it at first seems impossible. し and シ are different ways of expressing the syllable "shi", which blows the mind of the ordinary English speaker. "They're just pictures," you think. But no, they're so much more than that - you just can't see their purpose or worth because you're used to seeing the complete picture of written language, its individual pieces lost long ago, when you first learned to read. Written language is truly an amazing thing, its depth and complexity and intrinsic worth and beauty often unappreciated. It's almost like magic, watching seemingly random symbols gain meaning when placed together in a certain way.
Then there's music. Music is a bunch of sounds. Blow on a trumpet without any experience with playing a trumpet before, or pluck the string on a guitar, and you have the beginnings of music. A meaningless noise, hardly anything worth mentioning. Yet you put all the noises that individual instruments make, change the intonation of the sound at specific times, and piece them together, and - voila - you suddenly have an orchestra, a song, a performance. Music is especially interesting in that you can add people's voices to it, something meant for communication, and turn them into something musical. Poetry suddenly has a voice and a means of expression beyond simple words. And, going even further, and coming off of discussing the beauty of written language, it's even more amazing how music has its own language.
That's Mozart. That looks like total and complete gibberish to anyone who can't read sheet music. It's amazing how that represents sounds, and how the sheet music translates to audible music when performed. In a way, music is another form of language and communication, sometimes of an even higher form than spoken language, and the ability to write and read it only cements this fact.
This could go on all day. Everything has pieces to it that aren't even a shadow of the completed product. There's a universal meaning to this, too. The lives we live are a lot like these individual pieces, where we can't see their greater purpose when viewed on their own. We're part of a society, a world, and a universe, something much bigger and more beautiful and more grand than we can possibly comprehend or imagine.
In my perfect view of an afterlife, we get to see the grand plan, the finished product, the big picture, the final culmination of the sum of each of our lives. I say this because I'm sure it's impossible to see with the limited perspective that we have. I'm sure it's a hell of a product, too. The grand scheme of creation. What could be more amazing than that?
This has always been fascinating. I first realized how amazing it is when I was very little, watching the construction of a bridge or a part of a highway or something similar. I would see it every time I was on that highway, which was often. Over time, what was originally a bunch of pillars and iron bars and randomly placed cranes and irate workers became something that had a definite form and shape to it, and was not only aesthetically appealing but also useful - a far cry from its skeletal beginnings.
The three instances I find this to be most apparently amazing in are:
Art,
Language,
And music.
Art by itself is lines and shapes. Every piece of art begins with a single stroke, and then another, and then another, and then you add some color, you move onto another set of lines and strokes and shapes, and before you know it you have something that doesn't look anything like a bunch of lines and shapes, but like something with substance, a real piece of art. Look at this, for example:
It's quite nice to look at. Yet it began with lines and shapes. In fact, it still is lines and shapes and splashes of color. But we don't see that - the finished product is something entirely beyond its individual parts, the sum of those parts creating something absolutely impossible to see when those parts are perceived on their own.
Words are the same way. I've spent a good amount of my life studying Japanese - 日本語. The reason it interests me is that it's a logographic language - to most Americans it looks like a bunch of random shapes. Yet, if you can decipher and interpret those shapes and symbols, they cease to become shapes and they become a means of communication and expression. Some people can't read the Arabic alphabet that we use in western culture. Since we learn how to read at such an early age, it becomes something that's totally second nature to us, like breathing. Yet, looking at a language you once could not understand and then being able to read it really opens your eyes as to how beautifully complex words and letters and written language are. Learning Japanese, learning an entire system of writing, you realize how you have to take it step by step, and it at first seems impossible. し and シ are different ways of expressing the syllable "shi", which blows the mind of the ordinary English speaker. "They're just pictures," you think. But no, they're so much more than that - you just can't see their purpose or worth because you're used to seeing the complete picture of written language, its individual pieces lost long ago, when you first learned to read. Written language is truly an amazing thing, its depth and complexity and intrinsic worth and beauty often unappreciated. It's almost like magic, watching seemingly random symbols gain meaning when placed together in a certain way.
Then there's music. Music is a bunch of sounds. Blow on a trumpet without any experience with playing a trumpet before, or pluck the string on a guitar, and you have the beginnings of music. A meaningless noise, hardly anything worth mentioning. Yet you put all the noises that individual instruments make, change the intonation of the sound at specific times, and piece them together, and - voila - you suddenly have an orchestra, a song, a performance. Music is especially interesting in that you can add people's voices to it, something meant for communication, and turn them into something musical. Poetry suddenly has a voice and a means of expression beyond simple words. And, going even further, and coming off of discussing the beauty of written language, it's even more amazing how music has its own language.
That's Mozart. That looks like total and complete gibberish to anyone who can't read sheet music. It's amazing how that represents sounds, and how the sheet music translates to audible music when performed. In a way, music is another form of language and communication, sometimes of an even higher form than spoken language, and the ability to write and read it only cements this fact.
This could go on all day. Everything has pieces to it that aren't even a shadow of the completed product. There's a universal meaning to this, too. The lives we live are a lot like these individual pieces, where we can't see their greater purpose when viewed on their own. We're part of a society, a world, and a universe, something much bigger and more beautiful and more grand than we can possibly comprehend or imagine.
In my perfect view of an afterlife, we get to see the grand plan, the finished product, the big picture, the final culmination of the sum of each of our lives. I say this because I'm sure it's impossible to see with the limited perspective that we have. I'm sure it's a hell of a product, too. The grand scheme of creation. What could be more amazing than that?
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Hello, Dante Aligheri
I am convinced that all paperwork comes from one of the circles of Hell.
Writing? Cool. Essays? Also cool. Letters and e-mails? They're alright!
But enter the world of job applications, appeal forms, score reports, tax forms, account books, lesson planning, grading, and any other exercise in pure tedium...
No wonder so many bankers quit their jobs, despite them paying so well. Insane amounts of time spent doing insanity inducing work.
On that note, this little guy popped up on my social media feed this morning - the tentatively named Opisthoteuthis Adorabilis.
Sometimes, especially in the midst of a string of stressful experiences, it's the little things that make your day. Sometimes those little things are an adorable octopus. That's life, I guess.
Writing? Cool. Essays? Also cool. Letters and e-mails? They're alright!
But enter the world of job applications, appeal forms, score reports, tax forms, account books, lesson planning, grading, and any other exercise in pure tedium...
No wonder so many bankers quit their jobs, despite them paying so well. Insane amounts of time spent doing insanity inducing work.
On that note, this little guy popped up on my social media feed this morning - the tentatively named Opisthoteuthis Adorabilis.
Sometimes, especially in the midst of a string of stressful experiences, it's the little things that make your day. Sometimes those little things are an adorable octopus. That's life, I guess.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Soul Unison
I just got back from my first wedding experience.
It was very nice. I have never seen two people look happier in my entire life. The ceremony was short but sweet (Protestants don't have a mass) and the reception was something out of this world. At the Boston Museum of Science, of all places! Creative, interesting, and fun. The food was great! Never before have I had a bite sized hamburger, and possibly never again will I have one.
Weddings are truly a beautiful thing. A marriage of two souls, a unison of being, a lifetime of commitment through thick and thin, a true declaration of love.
Now, the realist in me: I have no doubts about my cousin's love for his recent wife, but the ceremony brought to mind a terrible realization that these supposed-to-be lifelong bonds are broken all too often in our society and in our generation. After witnessing the process firsthand, I can't help but feel broken by the fact that divorce is so commonplace these days. In A Man for All Seasons, Thomas Moore is utterly appalled that King Henry would ask to break these sacred bonds. What would he think of our society today?
Love is not a concept to be trifled with or taken lightly. It's a lifelong commitment - you stick with it for good, through good times and bad, you forgive, you love wholly and truly. My train of thought is not outdated or idealistic, as some may argue, as love and the sanctity of marriage are timeless and meant to remain unbroken, even in hardship. I have seen so many people take marriage with a grain of salt, or even denounce it entirely; truly, we have lost our way as a society if this is how people see the world, and how they view the concept of love and commitment to one another.
Here I am, speaking about such depressing things in the aftermath of a wedding. The sheer joy I witnessed led me to think that such a sacred experience should never, ever be treated with anything less than the utmost reverence. So, back to happy thoughts. I am extremely happy for and proud of my cousin for achieving this monumental milestone in his life, and I wish him the absolute best going forward.
It was very nice. I have never seen two people look happier in my entire life. The ceremony was short but sweet (Protestants don't have a mass) and the reception was something out of this world. At the Boston Museum of Science, of all places! Creative, interesting, and fun. The food was great! Never before have I had a bite sized hamburger, and possibly never again will I have one.
Weddings are truly a beautiful thing. A marriage of two souls, a unison of being, a lifetime of commitment through thick and thin, a true declaration of love.
Now, the realist in me: I have no doubts about my cousin's love for his recent wife, but the ceremony brought to mind a terrible realization that these supposed-to-be lifelong bonds are broken all too often in our society and in our generation. After witnessing the process firsthand, I can't help but feel broken by the fact that divorce is so commonplace these days. In A Man for All Seasons, Thomas Moore is utterly appalled that King Henry would ask to break these sacred bonds. What would he think of our society today?
Love is not a concept to be trifled with or taken lightly. It's a lifelong commitment - you stick with it for good, through good times and bad, you forgive, you love wholly and truly. My train of thought is not outdated or idealistic, as some may argue, as love and the sanctity of marriage are timeless and meant to remain unbroken, even in hardship. I have seen so many people take marriage with a grain of salt, or even denounce it entirely; truly, we have lost our way as a society if this is how people see the world, and how they view the concept of love and commitment to one another.
Here I am, speaking about such depressing things in the aftermath of a wedding. The sheer joy I witnessed led me to think that such a sacred experience should never, ever be treated with anything less than the utmost reverence. So, back to happy thoughts. I am extremely happy for and proud of my cousin for achieving this monumental milestone in his life, and I wish him the absolute best going forward.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Back to the Stone Age
Won't be able to update this weekend, as I'll be out of state with no access to a computer.
This blog has been great for my health - having a place to store my thoughts and get them out there is quite nice, and forcing myself to update every day is good exercise in discipline. I highly recommend it to anyone looking to find some focus in their life, or to introverts who have trouble talking to people in person. If you're one of the few people who reads it - thanks. I hope the stuff I write is at least somewhat as enjoyable for you to read as it is for me to write.
This blog has been great for my health - having a place to store my thoughts and get them out there is quite nice, and forcing myself to update every day is good exercise in discipline. I highly recommend it to anyone looking to find some focus in their life, or to introverts who have trouble talking to people in person. If you're one of the few people who reads it - thanks. I hope the stuff I write is at least somewhat as enjoyable for you to read as it is for me to write.
Friday, June 12, 2015
White World of Wonder
There's a reason most children love and look forward to snow - it's breathtaking and otherwordly, and a nice break from the monotony of year round weather. The fact that, in most regions of the world, it's confined to the season of Winter, gives it a sense of uniqueness and a distinct identity and symbolism. There's also something about snow that's very comforting. It makes you feel safe. It's soft, it's inviting, and it's stunning to look at. The silence of gentle snow, or even the wind blowing in a snowstorm, are intensely calming sounds that put one's heart at ease. Even the smell of snow is soothing.
Snow is great. So many things surrounding its presence are great, too - Evergreen trees, the Christmas season, the animals that live in it - Polar Bears, Penguins, Orcas - and even the sports of the Winter season, such as skiing and snowboarding, are all so much better than their ordinary, non snow oriented counterparts. Around this time every year, as Summer really begins to get itself into gear, I find its presence sorely missed.
 |
| Tell me this doesn't calm you down. |
Of course, snow is an ephemeral joy. Not long after it falls, it becomes brown and ugly, polluted by whatever products are used to clean the streets, and then evaporates entirely. Not to mention the labor associated with clearing the driveway, the difficulty that it instills in driving anywhere, and the biting cold that it brings along with it. It does often result in days off, however, which are indeed nice.
Even considering its transiently enjoyable nature, snow is one of the best experiences that nature has to offer. Ah, Winter, where have you gone?
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Melodic Bliss
Music is the lifeblood of the soul.
Whenever I'm down, I listen to music. Whenever I'm happy, I listen to music. Whenever I feel calm, I listen to music. Whenever I feel frustrated, I listen to music. It doesn't matter what I'm feeling - music is so all encompassing and so varied that there's a song or a track or a performance for every occasion. It's a true form of artistic expression, and, like all good art, completely varies depending on the perception of its recipient, melding with their mood, personality, and worldview and working in tandem with who they are to create an individualized product born out of a perfectly symbiotic relationship between artist and listener.
I'm a big fan of soundtracks, in particular. That's right: the music I listen to is often background music, lacking any sort of lyrics and sometimes - if you can believe it - lacking a catchy beat as well. A big reason I tend to gravitate towards this type of music is that I remember it from the particular moment that it played in whatever movie, game, or television show that I first heard it in, and it blends with my memory of what was going on at the time, making it representative of what was transpiring. It seems tailored for an event, rather than made as pure "music" meant to be ear candy. Incidentally, instrumental music is also great for creative inspiration, often calling to mind all sorts of characters and worlds and events that I could never come up with on my own. If you're an artist, as I am a writer, it becomes a font of creative energy. It serves other, more pragmatic purposes, too - recently, I've been using this to help me get to sleep. I've been out like a rock every night. Of course, ordinary music, the kind most normal human beings listen to, is just as amazing.
Music essentially becomes an ambassador for moments and memories, instantly calling to mind what was happening at the time and becoming symbolic of these moments. Music also conjures up new feelings. It resonates with the soul. Music serves so many purposes, from guiding emotion to eliciting memory to expressing its artist's feelings to helping us cope with life.
In short, music is awesome!
Of course, not everyone likes all music. You ever get in a friend's car, only to have them put on something you clearly do not consider to be music? It's all about the ear of the beholder, I suppose.
Whenever I'm down, I listen to music. Whenever I'm happy, I listen to music. Whenever I feel calm, I listen to music. Whenever I feel frustrated, I listen to music. It doesn't matter what I'm feeling - music is so all encompassing and so varied that there's a song or a track or a performance for every occasion. It's a true form of artistic expression, and, like all good art, completely varies depending on the perception of its recipient, melding with their mood, personality, and worldview and working in tandem with who they are to create an individualized product born out of a perfectly symbiotic relationship between artist and listener.
I'm a big fan of soundtracks, in particular. That's right: the music I listen to is often background music, lacking any sort of lyrics and sometimes - if you can believe it - lacking a catchy beat as well. A big reason I tend to gravitate towards this type of music is that I remember it from the particular moment that it played in whatever movie, game, or television show that I first heard it in, and it blends with my memory of what was going on at the time, making it representative of what was transpiring. It seems tailored for an event, rather than made as pure "music" meant to be ear candy. Incidentally, instrumental music is also great for creative inspiration, often calling to mind all sorts of characters and worlds and events that I could never come up with on my own. If you're an artist, as I am a writer, it becomes a font of creative energy. It serves other, more pragmatic purposes, too - recently, I've been using this to help me get to sleep. I've been out like a rock every night. Of course, ordinary music, the kind most normal human beings listen to, is just as amazing.
Music essentially becomes an ambassador for moments and memories, instantly calling to mind what was happening at the time and becoming symbolic of these moments. Music also conjures up new feelings. It resonates with the soul. Music serves so many purposes, from guiding emotion to eliciting memory to expressing its artist's feelings to helping us cope with life.
In short, music is awesome!
Of course, not everyone likes all music. You ever get in a friend's car, only to have them put on something you clearly do not consider to be music? It's all about the ear of the beholder, I suppose.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Not Everything is Complicated
What do you do when people genuinely don't like you?
In true Seinfeld fashion, sometimes you can have absolutely no problems with someone, but they can have plenty of problems with you. What do you do with this seemingly wanton dislike? I'm sure everyone has those friends of friends that have a very particular aura of negativity that they seem to direct directly at you, despite you having done nothing against them. Sometimes you just don't gel with people, and sometimes people just don't gel with you, even if you try your best to be nice to everyone.
Ignore it. Not everyone is worth your time.
 |
| Hello, Jerry. |
In true Seinfeld fashion, sometimes you can have absolutely no problems with someone, but they can have plenty of problems with you. What do you do with this seemingly wanton dislike? I'm sure everyone has those friends of friends that have a very particular aura of negativity that they seem to direct directly at you, despite you having done nothing against them. Sometimes you just don't gel with people, and sometimes people just don't gel with you, even if you try your best to be nice to everyone.
Ignore it. Not everyone is worth your time.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Sincerity and Fulfillment
I'm a big fan of video games.
Anyone who knows me knows this. Why do I love them so much? Why do I still cling to a hobby that many people perceive as something for children or for shut-ins? It doesn't garner me much popularity or recognition, I'll tell you that. Among many social communities, identifying yourself as someone who loves games - other than mainstream titles such as Call of Duty - is a surefire way to lose things. That respect you might have had? Ehhh, I'm not sure about this guy. That person who thought you were an alright guy? But, he's such a nerd, though.
People who take their hobbies a little too seriously aren't exactly the life of the party, and I try to avoid being one of these guys:
But let's face it. You play Dark Souls or Breath of Fire or Final Fantasy or Warcraft or talk about Dragon Ball Z or One Piece or Lord of the Rings or Marvel or Star Wars or Dungeons and Dragons or that roleplay you were involved in or Magic: The Gathering or Pokemon and you immediately become a nerd.
I love being a nerd, and involving myself in nerd communities, partially because it's stigmatized.
The people who are involved in "nerd culture" are involved out of a very genuine interest in it. So much so that they are often willing to pursue it in lieu of losing social standing. They honestly love what they are talking about, they love getting lost in these books and movies and games that are fantastical and whimsical and out there and fun. They resonate with the characters that they love, they feel a sense of fulfillment from being involved in these worlds, or maybe they enjoy the action and set pieces. Lord knows that Dragon Ball isn't exactly a Shakespearean play, but people find characters and stories in it that they love anyway. People don't become invested in nerd culture to become popular, well liked, or successful. It's the exact opposite of going out and buying a pair of Jordans or a designer bag or driving a Lamborghini. Nobody becomes or embraces being a nerd for status, power, comfort, or any other insincere reason. People are invested in the culture because they appreciate it for what it is. In that sense, being around and involved with "nerds" is an experience where you let go of your vanity and social desire and find an immense sense of freedom and sincerity.
I've been in all kinds of social groups. I don't only identify as a "nerd". But out of all the people I've been around, these groups of people that genuinely love what they do and what they buy and what they talk about have always felt the most "real". Of course, there are bad seeds in any group, and I find a lot of so-called nerds to be truly terrible people, as there are inevitably bound to be. But when you find a good group of people, they're really fun - and liberating - to hang out with.
I won't lie. Being accepted feels good. I like being able to name drop a popular movie or television show or news story and have people know what I'm talking about and involve themselves in the conversation. But there's not nearly as strong of a connection with mainstream media as there is with niche media, where people connect on a much deeper level because of its relative obscurity or stigmatization. You have to look and try harder to find these connections, which makes them mean a heck of a lot more.
There's a lot of negative stereotypes involved with nerddom, but the positives seem to outweigh the negatives. I choose to like nerdy things because I like the sincerity that can be found in their communities. It doesn't help my social networking at all, but it gives a sense of fulfillment that casual and mainstream interests do not. That said, these hobbies are a luxury. They're always the first thing to go when life gets too hectic or too busy, and there's plenty more important things in life, like relationships and work and other responsibilities. But if you have the time? They're great!
In another universe, I'm blogging about sports teams for the same reason. I'm a sports atheist, because I grew up physically inept. But they know their stuff, too. Watching people argue about this or that player or stats or what team is doing what makes me feel like they're truly invested in what they're talking about, just like nerds. Sports culture is a little too abrasive for me, but I can totally understand it. As I've gotten older, purely intellectual pursuits have given me a similar sense of fulfillment. I love hanging out with English nerds, for example.
Long story short - it's wise to go where the most sincerity lies. At least, that's my mantra for fulfillment in life.
Anyone who knows me knows this. Why do I love them so much? Why do I still cling to a hobby that many people perceive as something for children or for shut-ins? It doesn't garner me much popularity or recognition, I'll tell you that. Among many social communities, identifying yourself as someone who loves games - other than mainstream titles such as Call of Duty - is a surefire way to lose things. That respect you might have had? Ehhh, I'm not sure about this guy. That person who thought you were an alright guy? But, he's such a nerd, though.
People who take their hobbies a little too seriously aren't exactly the life of the party, and I try to avoid being one of these guys:
But let's face it. You play Dark Souls or Breath of Fire or Final Fantasy or Warcraft or talk about Dragon Ball Z or One Piece or Lord of the Rings or Marvel or Star Wars or Dungeons and Dragons or that roleplay you were involved in or Magic: The Gathering or Pokemon and you immediately become a nerd.
I love being a nerd, and involving myself in nerd communities, partially because it's stigmatized.
The people who are involved in "nerd culture" are involved out of a very genuine interest in it. So much so that they are often willing to pursue it in lieu of losing social standing. They honestly love what they are talking about, they love getting lost in these books and movies and games that are fantastical and whimsical and out there and fun. They resonate with the characters that they love, they feel a sense of fulfillment from being involved in these worlds, or maybe they enjoy the action and set pieces. Lord knows that Dragon Ball isn't exactly a Shakespearean play, but people find characters and stories in it that they love anyway. People don't become invested in nerd culture to become popular, well liked, or successful. It's the exact opposite of going out and buying a pair of Jordans or a designer bag or driving a Lamborghini. Nobody becomes or embraces being a nerd for status, power, comfort, or any other insincere reason. People are invested in the culture because they appreciate it for what it is. In that sense, being around and involved with "nerds" is an experience where you let go of your vanity and social desire and find an immense sense of freedom and sincerity.
I've been in all kinds of social groups. I don't only identify as a "nerd". But out of all the people I've been around, these groups of people that genuinely love what they do and what they buy and what they talk about have always felt the most "real". Of course, there are bad seeds in any group, and I find a lot of so-called nerds to be truly terrible people, as there are inevitably bound to be. But when you find a good group of people, they're really fun - and liberating - to hang out with.
I won't lie. Being accepted feels good. I like being able to name drop a popular movie or television show or news story and have people know what I'm talking about and involve themselves in the conversation. But there's not nearly as strong of a connection with mainstream media as there is with niche media, where people connect on a much deeper level because of its relative obscurity or stigmatization. You have to look and try harder to find these connections, which makes them mean a heck of a lot more.
There's a lot of negative stereotypes involved with nerddom, but the positives seem to outweigh the negatives. I choose to like nerdy things because I like the sincerity that can be found in their communities. It doesn't help my social networking at all, but it gives a sense of fulfillment that casual and mainstream interests do not. That said, these hobbies are a luxury. They're always the first thing to go when life gets too hectic or too busy, and there's plenty more important things in life, like relationships and work and other responsibilities. But if you have the time? They're great!
In another universe, I'm blogging about sports teams for the same reason. I'm a sports atheist, because I grew up physically inept. But they know their stuff, too. Watching people argue about this or that player or stats or what team is doing what makes me feel like they're truly invested in what they're talking about, just like nerds. Sports culture is a little too abrasive for me, but I can totally understand it. As I've gotten older, purely intellectual pursuits have given me a similar sense of fulfillment. I love hanging out with English nerds, for example.
Long story short - it's wise to go where the most sincerity lies. At least, that's my mantra for fulfillment in life.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Oh No
 |
| I didn't make this. It's from Penny Arcade. |
When you find yourself creatively bankrupt, steal someone else's work.
(Do not actually ever do this)
Funny story: my great uncle was a professional con artist. I mean that in the most literal sense - he was both a professional conman and a professional artist. He was a very talented man, but for some reason he would always use other people's work as a base and add his own paintings to it. The weirdest example of this that he ever did was a painting of me in my childhood, wearing a blue button down shirt and taking care of a cow. If that sounds totally random to you, then you are not alone. First of all, I never wore fancy shirts if I could help it, and second of all, I actually hated cows as a kid for whatever reason. Even without taking this into account, the premise of the painting is strange. The reason for this? It wasn't originally a painting of me. We suspect that it was the unfinished painting of an old man, because the body is slightly disproportionate to the head and the hands have wrinkles that look like they belong on an older person. So, in essence, my uncle painted my head onto the body of an old farmer. For some reason. It looks very professional and well done, so he clearly put effort into it, but it's still really bizarre... on many levels.
There it is. Tell me that isn't super weird.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Through the Looking Glass
The concept of growing up has been portrayed countless times in fiction. It's always a curiously painful experience, but rarely is it painted in at outright negative light. Peter Pan argued that growing up was lame, and had a land of eternal youth to prove how great childhood is, but the children from that movie still chose to grow up and leave their childhood behind, despite the joys of youth and the loss of these joys as one turns into an adult.
Two experiences in games, games that I played at the dawn of my adolescence, have portrayed the concept of coming into adulthood quite well, perhaps unintentionally.
Warning: there are spoilers for the games that follow, if you care about that sort of thing.
Example one:
Final Fantasy X begins in the city of Zanarkand, a magnificent metropolis with advanced technology seemingly powered by water. The main character, Tidus, is a celebrity in this society, a superstar athlete who plays the fictional sport of Blitzball. He's the son of another famous athlete, and his troubles are the epitome of first world problems - he has a legacy to live up, his father was famous and neglected him as a child, and he's an adult that misses his deceased mother - but overall, he has it made. He is wealthy, famous, and beloved.
This all changes when a monster known as Sin attacks the city, swallowing Tidus and spitting him out in a foreign land. The land is known as Spira, a place that Tidus has never heard of. The most bizarre aspect of being flung into Spira is that in this world, Zanarkand is a city everyone knows as a society that was destroyed a thousand years ago. Determined to return home, one thing leads to another and he eventually ends up joining a summoner on their pilgrimage to Zanarkand, wanting to discover the mystery behind its supposed destruction and his appearance on Spira. Along the way, he is constantly learning about the land of Spira, its customs, its history, and the people who live there. He is very much ignorant of the world, especially of the hard lives that people face, and has to have others guide him almost every step of the way. He eventually does reach Zanarkand, and it is, indeed, a city in ruins.
The Zanarkand he knew never existed. Along the way, he discovers the truth behind the city he grew up in and the reality that he thought he knew; his Zanarkand was known as Dream Zanarkand, a complicated illusion physically manifested by the dreams of the souls of those who lived in the real Zanarkand. It was an idealized version of the city in its prime, with even its inhabitants being complex dreams given physical form. Tidus realizes that he will never return home, because the home he remembers was never real. He is left with the ruined Zanarkand, the world he was placed in against his will, and he has to find a way to accept that this is his new reality.
Example two:
In Kingdom Hearts II, Roxas is a boy who lives in a place called Twilight Town. He's a normal kid that has a group of friends that he regularly hangs out with. He attends school, enjoys his summer vacations, has hobbies that he likes, places he likes to go, and people that he loves. He is, for all intents and purposes, the very definition of normal. This all changes when monsters in white begin to show up in Twilight Town, followed by the appearance of mysterious hooded figures that only he can see and a man who claims to know Roxas, despite having never met him before.
In a twist reminiscent of the major plot revelation of The Matrix, Roxas eventually discovers that he is living in a fake Twilight Town, a digital replication of the real thing. His life was fabricated; everything he knew exists, but in a different form, in the real Twilight Town, without him. Roxas' memory was altered, his past life erased, and he was given the life he always wanted. In reality, Roxas was being used by a group of criminals, and spent his days working for them. His real identity, and his real past, are anything but what he thought they were, and far from what he wanted or expected from life.
This particular metaphor has another layer to it. Without delving into the overly complex story of Kingdom Hearts, the basic gist of it is that Roxas himself was born from a different character's heart. He doesn't actually exist, instead being the shadow of another person. A large part of the message of the series, at least surrounding the segments concerning Roxas, is finding a sense of identity and coming to terms with reality and who you are. Eventually, Roxas accepts the truth, and merges with his "real" self, returning to the person he was originally supposed to be.
So, what does any of this have to do with childhood or growing up? Everything. Leaving childhood is a lot like entering into an entirely new world, with its own rules and values, much like the new realities that Tidus and Roxas must deal with in the worlds that they are thrown into. The scariest part of adulthood is looking back on the world that you thought existed, and realizing that this "new" world - the world of adulthood - was, in fact, the "real" world the entire time, with your childhood world existing as an illusion born out of lack of knowledge and childhood perception. You're left with the reality that you now exist in, despite never asking to be there, and you must find a way to cope with and accept this reality.
Playing these games in my early adolescence, the theme of accepting reality resonated very strongly with me. In our lives, we are thrown into our own version of Spira. Sometimes, we even return to where we came from, only to find it unrecognizable, or at least very different from what our childhood selves remember. It's a painful farewell, saying goodbye to our childhood world, but accepting the new world in which we live can be a very fulfilling experience. We learn so much in the world of our adulthood, and we meet so many people and form so many bonds that we could not have done had we remained in our childhood world.
Growing up is a sad and painful journey, but it's also a beautiful and enlightening one.
Two experiences in games, games that I played at the dawn of my adolescence, have portrayed the concept of coming into adulthood quite well, perhaps unintentionally.
Warning: there are spoilers for the games that follow, if you care about that sort of thing.
Example one:
 |
| Zanarkand, as Tidus knew it. |
Final Fantasy X begins in the city of Zanarkand, a magnificent metropolis with advanced technology seemingly powered by water. The main character, Tidus, is a celebrity in this society, a superstar athlete who plays the fictional sport of Blitzball. He's the son of another famous athlete, and his troubles are the epitome of first world problems - he has a legacy to live up, his father was famous and neglected him as a child, and he's an adult that misses his deceased mother - but overall, he has it made. He is wealthy, famous, and beloved.
This all changes when a monster known as Sin attacks the city, swallowing Tidus and spitting him out in a foreign land. The land is known as Spira, a place that Tidus has never heard of. The most bizarre aspect of being flung into Spira is that in this world, Zanarkand is a city everyone knows as a society that was destroyed a thousand years ago. Determined to return home, one thing leads to another and he eventually ends up joining a summoner on their pilgrimage to Zanarkand, wanting to discover the mystery behind its supposed destruction and his appearance on Spira. Along the way, he is constantly learning about the land of Spira, its customs, its history, and the people who live there. He is very much ignorant of the world, especially of the hard lives that people face, and has to have others guide him almost every step of the way. He eventually does reach Zanarkand, and it is, indeed, a city in ruins.
 |
| The ruins of Zanarkand. |
The Zanarkand he knew never existed. Along the way, he discovers the truth behind the city he grew up in and the reality that he thought he knew; his Zanarkand was known as Dream Zanarkand, a complicated illusion physically manifested by the dreams of the souls of those who lived in the real Zanarkand. It was an idealized version of the city in its prime, with even its inhabitants being complex dreams given physical form. Tidus realizes that he will never return home, because the home he remembers was never real. He is left with the ruined Zanarkand, the world he was placed in against his will, and he has to find a way to accept that this is his new reality.
Example two:
 |
| Roxas, during his life in Twilight Town. |
In Kingdom Hearts II, Roxas is a boy who lives in a place called Twilight Town. He's a normal kid that has a group of friends that he regularly hangs out with. He attends school, enjoys his summer vacations, has hobbies that he likes, places he likes to go, and people that he loves. He is, for all intents and purposes, the very definition of normal. This all changes when monsters in white begin to show up in Twilight Town, followed by the appearance of mysterious hooded figures that only he can see and a man who claims to know Roxas, despite having never met him before.
In a twist reminiscent of the major plot revelation of The Matrix, Roxas eventually discovers that he is living in a fake Twilight Town, a digital replication of the real thing. His life was fabricated; everything he knew exists, but in a different form, in the real Twilight Town, without him. Roxas' memory was altered, his past life erased, and he was given the life he always wanted. In reality, Roxas was being used by a group of criminals, and spent his days working for them. His real identity, and his real past, are anything but what he thought they were, and far from what he wanted or expected from life.
 |
| A glimpse of Roxas's dark past, where he struggles to find his identity. |
This particular metaphor has another layer to it. Without delving into the overly complex story of Kingdom Hearts, the basic gist of it is that Roxas himself was born from a different character's heart. He doesn't actually exist, instead being the shadow of another person. A large part of the message of the series, at least surrounding the segments concerning Roxas, is finding a sense of identity and coming to terms with reality and who you are. Eventually, Roxas accepts the truth, and merges with his "real" self, returning to the person he was originally supposed to be.
So, what does any of this have to do with childhood or growing up? Everything. Leaving childhood is a lot like entering into an entirely new world, with its own rules and values, much like the new realities that Tidus and Roxas must deal with in the worlds that they are thrown into. The scariest part of adulthood is looking back on the world that you thought existed, and realizing that this "new" world - the world of adulthood - was, in fact, the "real" world the entire time, with your childhood world existing as an illusion born out of lack of knowledge and childhood perception. You're left with the reality that you now exist in, despite never asking to be there, and you must find a way to cope with and accept this reality.
Playing these games in my early adolescence, the theme of accepting reality resonated very strongly with me. In our lives, we are thrown into our own version of Spira. Sometimes, we even return to where we came from, only to find it unrecognizable, or at least very different from what our childhood selves remember. It's a painful farewell, saying goodbye to our childhood world, but accepting the new world in which we live can be a very fulfilling experience. We learn so much in the world of our adulthood, and we meet so many people and form so many bonds that we could not have done had we remained in our childhood world.
Growing up is a sad and painful journey, but it's also a beautiful and enlightening one.
Friday, June 5, 2015
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Imperfect Reflection
Writing is hard.
No, really. I'm sure every artist struggles with this, but translating what's in your head to whatever form of expression you're using at the time is a huge battle. Mostly because whatever you can conjure in your head seems pristine and relatively flawless. Once it begins to make that transition, and you realize that the diamond must be cut, the disparity between idea and reality can be disheartening. I'm sure this is a good part of the reason that you see so many people say they're going to work on their art, or write a novel, or write a script, or whatever, and then never commit to that statement. I bet famous artists and writers often weren't satisfied with what they produced, either, which makes me wonder what must have been floating around in their heads.
I've had a lot more fun laying out the background of a world and characters than I have actually writing a story. George Lucas also said he was better at coming up with concepts than writing a story. That doesn't bode very well for what I'm doing.
Practice makes perfect, but practice is hard to keep up with. Gotta keep your eye on the finish line, I suppose.
No, really. I'm sure every artist struggles with this, but translating what's in your head to whatever form of expression you're using at the time is a huge battle. Mostly because whatever you can conjure in your head seems pristine and relatively flawless. Once it begins to make that transition, and you realize that the diamond must be cut, the disparity between idea and reality can be disheartening. I'm sure this is a good part of the reason that you see so many people say they're going to work on their art, or write a novel, or write a script, or whatever, and then never commit to that statement. I bet famous artists and writers often weren't satisfied with what they produced, either, which makes me wonder what must have been floating around in their heads.
I've had a lot more fun laying out the background of a world and characters than I have actually writing a story. George Lucas also said he was better at coming up with concepts than writing a story. That doesn't bode very well for what I'm doing.
Practice makes perfect, but practice is hard to keep up with. Gotta keep your eye on the finish line, I suppose.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
You Gotta Believe
Motivational stuff is great. Life is worth living, risks are worth taking, love is important, yeah, alright. That all sounds great on paper, and it's sweet and all, but you can't say these things without taking into account one very basic life hurdle.
Failure hurts.
There's nothing else quite like the sting of failure. Not meeting the expectations of those around you. Trying to develop a talent and receiving nothing but criticism. Talking to others and hitting all sorts of awkward notes, leading to unpleasant social experiences. Being rejected from a job. Being rejected by someone you like. Not doing well in school. Getting fired. Your friends cutting ties with you. People saying bad things about you. Your friends living seemingly successful, fruitful lives while yours is dull and boring by comparison. It doesn't matter what kind of failure it is. There's different levels of it, but it always, always hurts. Strong people persevere and move on. People who aren't as strong falter. Those of weak emotional constitution crumble. The amount of failure people can take varies, and the way people react to it also depends on the person.
I've talked about intrinsic worth already, but that alone isn't enough to remedy the wounds that failure leave on a person. When you feel the pangs of failure, you aren't thinking of your worth to others, the greater meaning of life, or what life will be like when and if you recover. You're thinking that life sucks right now. That's all that's on your mind. At the moment of failure, that's all that there is. So how does one soldier through the pain? What does a person make of that terrible, awful stinging feeling?
My answer is twofold; faith and hope. Faith that you're better than your failures, and hope that things will improve. It's very easy to allow failure to shatter your perception of self. It's very easy to let it get you down. It can destroy you. But even the weakest person can cling to hope, and even the weakest person can have faith.
Believe that you're worth something. Think of all the people you mean something to. Let's get extreme for a second: if you died, who would it affect? If people knew the extent of your unhappiness, how would it make them feel? If people knew that you were ready to give up, what would they think of you? Do you want them to hurt, too, because of you? Face your pain, and think about how you help others face their own. Endure it to see the good things in life again. Even if it looks like they may never come, or if things may never be the same, I can guarantee good things will come your way again.
Pain never lasts forever. It's something you need to constantly remind yourself of.
Failure hurts.
There's nothing else quite like the sting of failure. Not meeting the expectations of those around you. Trying to develop a talent and receiving nothing but criticism. Talking to others and hitting all sorts of awkward notes, leading to unpleasant social experiences. Being rejected from a job. Being rejected by someone you like. Not doing well in school. Getting fired. Your friends cutting ties with you. People saying bad things about you. Your friends living seemingly successful, fruitful lives while yours is dull and boring by comparison. It doesn't matter what kind of failure it is. There's different levels of it, but it always, always hurts. Strong people persevere and move on. People who aren't as strong falter. Those of weak emotional constitution crumble. The amount of failure people can take varies, and the way people react to it also depends on the person.
I've talked about intrinsic worth already, but that alone isn't enough to remedy the wounds that failure leave on a person. When you feel the pangs of failure, you aren't thinking of your worth to others, the greater meaning of life, or what life will be like when and if you recover. You're thinking that life sucks right now. That's all that's on your mind. At the moment of failure, that's all that there is. So how does one soldier through the pain? What does a person make of that terrible, awful stinging feeling?
My answer is twofold; faith and hope. Faith that you're better than your failures, and hope that things will improve. It's very easy to allow failure to shatter your perception of self. It's very easy to let it get you down. It can destroy you. But even the weakest person can cling to hope, and even the weakest person can have faith.
Believe that you're worth something. Think of all the people you mean something to. Let's get extreme for a second: if you died, who would it affect? If people knew the extent of your unhappiness, how would it make them feel? If people knew that you were ready to give up, what would they think of you? Do you want them to hurt, too, because of you? Face your pain, and think about how you help others face their own. Endure it to see the good things in life again. Even if it looks like they may never come, or if things may never be the same, I can guarantee good things will come your way again.
Pain never lasts forever. It's something you need to constantly remind yourself of.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Onward, Through the Abyss
Why bother?
I find myself asking this question all the time. Why bother trying to be nice when it goes unappreciated? Why go out of your way to contribute something meaningful when the effort goes unnoticed? Why spend your time writing when nobody looks at what you write? Why try to be funny if nobody laughs at your jokes? Why bother even getting out of bed in the morning if you know you're just going to face problems, responsibilities, and people you'd rather never encounter again in your life?
It's tough to find motivation to go forward in life. It's even harder to find motivation to make the most of your life. Sometimes it's even hard to survive in life. When you look at the now, the immediate risk and reward, the better answer is often, "why bother?"
Sit back. Think. Imagine you're on your deathbed.
Whoa, that got morbid. Stay with me, though, I promise that this is going somewhere positive.
Imagine that you're on your deathbed. Your life is flashing before your eyes. You see all the things you did, all the things you didn't do, all the things you did well, all the things you could have done better, all the things that brought you joy, all the things that brought you sorrow, all the things that brought others joy, and all the things that brought others sorrow.
How much regret do you feel?
When you realize that there is no "now" - that we live trapped in a temporal existence, and that our life will end one day - you can see the need to go forward in life. Every human being wants to leave behind a legacy, a magnum opus, a trace of their existence, a message to the world that they were here, that they did something, and that it made a difference. You can't see that, or understand that, if you only look through the window of the present.
Something people seem to realize even less is that the little things leave traces of our existence, too. The Butterfly Effect. You make a difference just by talking to a friend, and laughing with them. You make a difference by being nice to a stranger, even if it's something as small as holding a door open for them. Will you meet the asshole who doesn't appreciate you holding open that door? Yeah, several times. But for every asshole, there's someone who really does appreciate your act of kindness. One time I baked muffins for my class on the last day, when we took our final. Someone laughed and said under their breath that it was weird and that I was weird for doing so. Guess what, lady? My professor said they were pretty good!
And what of the transient things? The games we play, the music we listen to, the food we eat? Although it's a huge piece of the puzzle, not everything is about leaving behind a legacy. Sometimes the smaller, seemingly inconsequential things that we enjoy - the moments that come and go in the blink of an eye - are also worth living for. They come interspersed with the bad moments, but they're definitely there. Sometimes the small and simple things can make your day. In the grand scheme of things, they may not last, but they're experiences definitely worth having. Not the reason for living, but worth appreciating, at least.
The tears we shed, the pain we endure, and the struggles we encounter day by day are hard to take, sometimes. Why bother facing them?
Because it's worth it.
You'll realize it at the end.
I find myself asking this question all the time. Why bother trying to be nice when it goes unappreciated? Why go out of your way to contribute something meaningful when the effort goes unnoticed? Why spend your time writing when nobody looks at what you write? Why try to be funny if nobody laughs at your jokes? Why bother even getting out of bed in the morning if you know you're just going to face problems, responsibilities, and people you'd rather never encounter again in your life?
It's tough to find motivation to go forward in life. It's even harder to find motivation to make the most of your life. Sometimes it's even hard to survive in life. When you look at the now, the immediate risk and reward, the better answer is often, "why bother?"
Sit back. Think. Imagine you're on your deathbed.
Whoa, that got morbid. Stay with me, though, I promise that this is going somewhere positive.
Imagine that you're on your deathbed. Your life is flashing before your eyes. You see all the things you did, all the things you didn't do, all the things you did well, all the things you could have done better, all the things that brought you joy, all the things that brought you sorrow, all the things that brought others joy, and all the things that brought others sorrow.
How much regret do you feel?
When you realize that there is no "now" - that we live trapped in a temporal existence, and that our life will end one day - you can see the need to go forward in life. Every human being wants to leave behind a legacy, a magnum opus, a trace of their existence, a message to the world that they were here, that they did something, and that it made a difference. You can't see that, or understand that, if you only look through the window of the present.
Something people seem to realize even less is that the little things leave traces of our existence, too. The Butterfly Effect. You make a difference just by talking to a friend, and laughing with them. You make a difference by being nice to a stranger, even if it's something as small as holding a door open for them. Will you meet the asshole who doesn't appreciate you holding open that door? Yeah, several times. But for every asshole, there's someone who really does appreciate your act of kindness. One time I baked muffins for my class on the last day, when we took our final. Someone laughed and said under their breath that it was weird and that I was weird for doing so. Guess what, lady? My professor said they were pretty good!
And what of the transient things? The games we play, the music we listen to, the food we eat? Although it's a huge piece of the puzzle, not everything is about leaving behind a legacy. Sometimes the smaller, seemingly inconsequential things that we enjoy - the moments that come and go in the blink of an eye - are also worth living for. They come interspersed with the bad moments, but they're definitely there. Sometimes the small and simple things can make your day. In the grand scheme of things, they may not last, but they're experiences definitely worth having. Not the reason for living, but worth appreciating, at least.
The tears we shed, the pain we endure, and the struggles we encounter day by day are hard to take, sometimes. Why bother facing them?
Because it's worth it.
You'll realize it at the end.
Monday, June 1, 2015
Pyroxene
What in the world is that weird title about? Pyroxene? What does that even mean?
Flashback. I'm in grade school. I had just moved to Connecticut - I had no friends or established cliques to hang out with. One day, I notice a kid sitting at a lunch table by himself. I ask the kids I'm sitting with why nobody is sitting with him. "He's weird", one kid told me. Another kid chimed in. "Yeah, he has no friends." Even at eight years old, I found this mean spirited and callous. So I decided to sit with him.
He became my best friend. Often to my detriment. I became known as "that kid who hangs out with *loner kid*."
This kid was a huge fan of video games. Not just any video games, either - he liked Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, Star Ocean. Even if you know absolutely nothing about games, you can tell from the titles that those games are way off the deep end of the nerd spectrum. At first, I was apprehensive about being around him. The stuff he liked was weird. He wasn't playing normal games, into sports, or into playing outdoors like my other friends. He was introverted, he was shy, and he was sensitive. Looking back, it's not really a wonder that he was bullied and ostracized.
He used to play these games that were very heavy on plot and text. They required a lot of your time and attention. So, much of our time was spent playing games. We would rent a game - because that's what kids did back then - and we would talk about it at school the next day, kind of similar to how people at book clubs read books and then come back together and talk about them. We'd make predictions about where the story would go next, talk about what we did at certain points in the game, argue over what the best way to go about things was, discuss our favorite characters. This friendship lasted all throughout grade school.
One of the first games he introduced me to was Star Ocean: The Second Story. I remember him telling me about a dungeon he was at - The Hoffman Ruins. The way he described it made it sound really cool. Underground mine, tough enemies, the story starts to get interesting, etc. Things that sound cool to an eight year old. I rented the game and finally made my way there, and it did end up being a really enjoyable segment of the game. This is the moment that cemented my friendship with this kid, and made me realize that he wasn't weird - nobody took the time to understand him or really listen to what he was talking about. The music that plays in this section is called Pyroxene. It's a beautiful, somber, mysterious melody. It doesn't come across as well on its own, and it's definitely held back by early game console synth, and it starts off with an odd sound, but when you're listening to it in game, and the music picks up past its intro, it really adds to the mystery and exploration of that particular part of the game.
I would come back and replay the game later, for nostalgia. I realized something odd while playing through The Hoffman Ruins segment again.
It's full of Catholic imagery. Totally out of place in this niche Japanese game.
The following two biblical passages came to mind after seeing this:
Is. 58:10. "And if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness, and your gloom will become like midday. And the LORD will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched places, and give strength to your bones; and you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail."
Luke 12:44. "Sell your possessions and give alms; make yourselves purses which do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near, nor moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."
Am I reading into it too much? Maybe. Calling this kid afflicted is a bit of a dramatization, and I didn't sell anything but my chance at hanging out with normal kids. But damn if seeing that there did not have an effect on me.
Two major lifelong lessons I took from this experience, two unfailing treasures that I'll always carry with me:
Lesson #1: Don't judge a book by its cover. Both this kid and his interests ended up being something I initially thought were weird and abnormal, but ended up creating one of the best friendships I've ever had and introducing me to a hobby I enjoyed long after our friendship had ended.
Lesson #2: Helping others when they're downtrodden feels amazing, and you never sacrifice anything by doing so because you receive something so much better in return. I would have rather hung out with more normal kids. I was apprehensive at first. Once the ice had been broken, however, he became a legitimate friend. I at first thought I was doing him a favor, but it turns out that he "helped" me as much as I "helped" him.
Why did I name my blog after a track name in a video game? I did so as an ode to the most important life lessons that I ever learned. Convoluted reason, maybe. But it carries with it an intense personal meaning.
Apparently pyroxene is a type of mineral, so now my blog is named after a rock. The meaning is in the interpretation, though, so, whatever. It sounds cool, too.
Flashback. I'm in grade school. I had just moved to Connecticut - I had no friends or established cliques to hang out with. One day, I notice a kid sitting at a lunch table by himself. I ask the kids I'm sitting with why nobody is sitting with him. "He's weird", one kid told me. Another kid chimed in. "Yeah, he has no friends." Even at eight years old, I found this mean spirited and callous. So I decided to sit with him.
He became my best friend. Often to my detriment. I became known as "that kid who hangs out with *loner kid*."
This kid was a huge fan of video games. Not just any video games, either - he liked Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, Star Ocean. Even if you know absolutely nothing about games, you can tell from the titles that those games are way off the deep end of the nerd spectrum. At first, I was apprehensive about being around him. The stuff he liked was weird. He wasn't playing normal games, into sports, or into playing outdoors like my other friends. He was introverted, he was shy, and he was sensitive. Looking back, it's not really a wonder that he was bullied and ostracized.
He used to play these games that were very heavy on plot and text. They required a lot of your time and attention. So, much of our time was spent playing games. We would rent a game - because that's what kids did back then - and we would talk about it at school the next day, kind of similar to how people at book clubs read books and then come back together and talk about them. We'd make predictions about where the story would go next, talk about what we did at certain points in the game, argue over what the best way to go about things was, discuss our favorite characters. This friendship lasted all throughout grade school.
One of the first games he introduced me to was Star Ocean: The Second Story. I remember him telling me about a dungeon he was at - The Hoffman Ruins. The way he described it made it sound really cool. Underground mine, tough enemies, the story starts to get interesting, etc. Things that sound cool to an eight year old. I rented the game and finally made my way there, and it did end up being a really enjoyable segment of the game. This is the moment that cemented my friendship with this kid, and made me realize that he wasn't weird - nobody took the time to understand him or really listen to what he was talking about. The music that plays in this section is called Pyroxene. It's a beautiful, somber, mysterious melody. It doesn't come across as well on its own, and it's definitely held back by early game console synth, and it starts off with an odd sound, but when you're listening to it in game, and the music picks up past its intro, it really adds to the mystery and exploration of that particular part of the game.
I would come back and replay the game later, for nostalgia. I realized something odd while playing through The Hoffman Ruins segment again.
It's full of Catholic imagery. Totally out of place in this niche Japanese game.
The following two biblical passages came to mind after seeing this:
Is. 58:10. "And if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness, and your gloom will become like midday. And the LORD will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire in scorched places, and give strength to your bones; and you will be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters do not fail."
Luke 12:44. "Sell your possessions and give alms; make yourselves purses which do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near, nor moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."
Am I reading into it too much? Maybe. Calling this kid afflicted is a bit of a dramatization, and I didn't sell anything but my chance at hanging out with normal kids. But damn if seeing that there did not have an effect on me.
Two major lifelong lessons I took from this experience, two unfailing treasures that I'll always carry with me:
Lesson #1: Don't judge a book by its cover. Both this kid and his interests ended up being something I initially thought were weird and abnormal, but ended up creating one of the best friendships I've ever had and introducing me to a hobby I enjoyed long after our friendship had ended.
Lesson #2: Helping others when they're downtrodden feels amazing, and you never sacrifice anything by doing so because you receive something so much better in return. I would have rather hung out with more normal kids. I was apprehensive at first. Once the ice had been broken, however, he became a legitimate friend. I at first thought I was doing him a favor, but it turns out that he "helped" me as much as I "helped" him.
Why did I name my blog after a track name in a video game? I did so as an ode to the most important life lessons that I ever learned. Convoluted reason, maybe. But it carries with it an intense personal meaning.
Apparently pyroxene is a type of mineral, so now my blog is named after a rock. The meaning is in the interpretation, though, so, whatever. It sounds cool, too.
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