But I Digress is now up and running, only it's staggered a bit, because I haven't had the time to update it much. How annoying.
I'm kind of worried. This is the time of the year when all good IB students second-guess the hell out of themselves. Whether we'll get into the colleges we want. What we'll major in. How we'll pay for it. If we can possibly hope to pass the IB exams in May.
I'm no exception--I'm trying desperately to get my portfolio together for Ringling and SCAD. The idea of going to Fullsail blew over when I realized A) I want to take my time before I become an unhappy adult, B) I want to go to a college I'll like being at as much as I like the coursework, and C) I could never afford it. There's more of a chance of me getting a decent scholarship from SCAD, but what keeps me awake at night is being able to pay for it. I'm getting together scholarship money piece by piece but tuition is so bloody expensive both there and at Ringling that I don't know if I can make it. But as of right now there's nothing I want more than to go to school in downtown Savannah.
In any case the whole portfolio thing makes my stomach turn. It has never mattered to me what anyone thought of my art before. It was just a fun thing to me, a not-for-profit thing. Now I'm actually trying to get some monetary use out of it and that kills me, because after all this time I dunno how anyone would judge it. I know all the ideas that are going into it, but no one else will, unless I communicate them properly, which...well no one bothers to analyze anything I do, because it's seemingly random and not worth it, or else because they don't care. Predictably.
The point of this entry I guess is to tell you all I'll be on hiatus a little while longer. All my profound stuff is going into my art or wasting away on schoolwork. Sorry, my invisible noncaring crowd.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Beautiful Disaster
I'd like to preface by saying that I deeply respect and admire all our military men and women--the veterans and the incumbents, and let's not forget the medical personnel who have saved so many lives and who are the first to feel the loss of an American soul. But it's also Remembrance Day in Canada, and one of my favorite Canadians of all has, surprisingly I feel, summed up both how Canadians and Americans view patriotism. So please take a break to read this post by Katie Beaton who is unequivocably a very funny lady but also unerringly profound.
Thank you veterans, thank you very much. You put your lives on the line for a flawed country. And for those who died defending this place, thank you. Just...thank you.
Aside from that (the title of this post has NOTHING to do with the above, sorry) I have formulated another theory. And I will abuse you with it right now.
The quote I used in the last post, the one from Mitch Clem. Aside from the fact that I'm surprised anything profound at all came from the author/artist of Nothing Nice To Say (sorry), those words of his set off some serious thinking. I already said that I didn't realize that were were so disillusioned, because I had been apart of it for the better part of my life, and so it just seemed to me that this is the way things are. Katie Beaton reinforced this when she recounted the bitter, cynical faces who even cheered for Obama at Grant Park in Chicago.
There is a point in every person's life, I think, when one attains a third level of consciousness. The first level is as a baby, when one is just beginning to make sense of sensations and becoming aware of the things immediately around you. The second level comes with the introduction of other people--grade school for most of us. One begins to become aware of the past and future, and life becomes all about you and the people immediately around you: how they recieve you, what they do to you. The third level comes at different times for different people, and for some it doesn't ever come. It's when you realize that the world is waaaayyy bigger than you thought it was, and your little world stops being just about the people you see every day.
For me, that began on September 11th, 2001. Prior to that day, my life really consisted solely of school and trying to stay afloat, because it's difficult to be gifted in an environment where if you are even a little bit different than anyone else you will be made fun of, and children are naturally vicious. But something changed that day, if only because it stuck so firmly in my conscious memory--of all the days I spent at Rosewood Magnet School, that particular day seems clearest and most whole.
I remember most of it by color alone. The pale green of the classroom walls, the sandy-topped desks. There was a lot of yellow, I don't remember where, but they say yellow means nervousness. I was two weeks shy of being eleven. It was Mrs. Creech's fifth grade class.It was ten, maybe twenty minutes before school let out for the day. Someone came in (I don't remember who), some woman, and she and Mrs. Creech talked quietly for a moment--I remember the teacher's blonde ponytail swinging around when she turned her head quickly. She and the other woman turned on the television to the left of the white board for a moment. I think it was CNN, because of the red and blue I remember on the taglines. There was grey sky and darker grey smoke on the screen. They looked at it for just a second and then turned it off again quickly, because this was a fifth grade classroom after all.
They let us out early that day. Mrs. Dillon (Dylan?) was on the announcements, which sounded extra serious. We left, none of us knowing why they let us out before the bell. It was late enough that most of the parents were already out in the pickup area. I got into my mom's car (I can't remember which car! It should have been the Astro.); it was overcast and grey out. She asked me why we'd gotten out a bit earlier than usual. I told her I wasn't sure, and I don't remember the rest of my response, except I think I asked what was on the news. On the TV. What was going on. Something.
She told me, oh, some planes hit some buildings.
Oh, was all I said, and I remember looking up at the sky through the windshield. Her eyes were really wide when she said it, if I remember.
In that moment I had no idea the scope of what had happened. I remember quite clearly thinking, probably based on how my mom told me about it, that it was no big deal. Of course I hadn't seen the pictures, heard the stories yet. I didn't even know what the World Trade Center was, honestly. I was a fifth grader.
But that was when I started paying attention. I paid attention to both Bush elections, Kerry's more than Gore's. I was trying to formulate my opinions. This is the climate I developed in, the post-9/11, the Iraq War. My third level of consciousness.
If you follow the footprints of anyone's life, it's easy to see why they are the way they are.
Thank you veterans, thank you very much. You put your lives on the line for a flawed country. And for those who died defending this place, thank you. Just...thank you.
Aside from that (the title of this post has NOTHING to do with the above, sorry) I have formulated another theory. And I will abuse you with it right now.
The quote I used in the last post, the one from Mitch Clem. Aside from the fact that I'm surprised anything profound at all came from the author/artist of Nothing Nice To Say (sorry), those words of his set off some serious thinking. I already said that I didn't realize that were were so disillusioned, because I had been apart of it for the better part of my life, and so it just seemed to me that this is the way things are. Katie Beaton reinforced this when she recounted the bitter, cynical faces who even cheered for Obama at Grant Park in Chicago.
There is a point in every person's life, I think, when one attains a third level of consciousness. The first level is as a baby, when one is just beginning to make sense of sensations and becoming aware of the things immediately around you. The second level comes with the introduction of other people--grade school for most of us. One begins to become aware of the past and future, and life becomes all about you and the people immediately around you: how they recieve you, what they do to you. The third level comes at different times for different people, and for some it doesn't ever come. It's when you realize that the world is waaaayyy bigger than you thought it was, and your little world stops being just about the people you see every day.
For me, that began on September 11th, 2001. Prior to that day, my life really consisted solely of school and trying to stay afloat, because it's difficult to be gifted in an environment where if you are even a little bit different than anyone else you will be made fun of, and children are naturally vicious. But something changed that day, if only because it stuck so firmly in my conscious memory--of all the days I spent at Rosewood Magnet School, that particular day seems clearest and most whole.
I remember most of it by color alone. The pale green of the classroom walls, the sandy-topped desks. There was a lot of yellow, I don't remember where, but they say yellow means nervousness. I was two weeks shy of being eleven. It was Mrs. Creech's fifth grade class.It was ten, maybe twenty minutes before school let out for the day. Someone came in (I don't remember who), some woman, and she and Mrs. Creech talked quietly for a moment--I remember the teacher's blonde ponytail swinging around when she turned her head quickly. She and the other woman turned on the television to the left of the white board for a moment. I think it was CNN, because of the red and blue I remember on the taglines. There was grey sky and darker grey smoke on the screen. They looked at it for just a second and then turned it off again quickly, because this was a fifth grade classroom after all.
They let us out early that day. Mrs. Dillon (Dylan?) was on the announcements, which sounded extra serious. We left, none of us knowing why they let us out before the bell. It was late enough that most of the parents were already out in the pickup area. I got into my mom's car (I can't remember which car! It should have been the Astro.); it was overcast and grey out. She asked me why we'd gotten out a bit earlier than usual. I told her I wasn't sure, and I don't remember the rest of my response, except I think I asked what was on the news. On the TV. What was going on. Something.
She told me, oh, some planes hit some buildings.
Oh, was all I said, and I remember looking up at the sky through the windshield. Her eyes were really wide when she said it, if I remember.
In that moment I had no idea the scope of what had happened. I remember quite clearly thinking, probably based on how my mom told me about it, that it was no big deal. Of course I hadn't seen the pictures, heard the stories yet. I didn't even know what the World Trade Center was, honestly. I was a fifth grader.
But that was when I started paying attention. I paid attention to both Bush elections, Kerry's more than Gore's. I was trying to formulate my opinions. This is the climate I developed in, the post-9/11, the Iraq War. My third level of consciousness.
If you follow the footprints of anyone's life, it's easy to see why they are the way they are.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
It's Obama
To be completely honest, I didn't expect him to win. I voted for him, but I didn't think he'd actually win. I'm pleasantly surprised. I enjoy his charisma and agree with his views, whereas McCain lost me when Palin came on the ticket and when he told me that "America is the greatest force of good on Earth". I've heard many people say that Obama is anti-American, but I can't see someone so anti-American that we should worry getting into the White House, and also right now we don't need someone who is going to give us the benefit of the doubt. Let's face it, America, the rest of the world dislikes us pretty intensely. We screwed up somewhere, probably in going into Iraq. We can't have another president who's going to boost our morale and tell us we're the best country like ever, we need someone who's going to get us to improve, not lie to us.
I'm not sure yet if Obama will be that guy. There's certainly the potential, but Mitch Clem may have said it best: "it was easy to get jaded and angry and nihilistic about our government over the past eight years, but I felt really proud tonight watching Obama's acceptance speech." Now, I'm only eighteen, so I was two weeks shy of being eleven when the 9/11 tragedy took place. So I spent the better part of my conscious life absorbed in that jaded, angry, nihilistic atmosphere. That to the point that I didn't even realize it was there. Now it seems to be alleviating a little--many people have hope, and it's because of Obama. Me being part of that aformentioned nihilism, I am not sure whether I want to wrap up all my hopes with Obama. I'm used to being disappointed in America, in Americans, in people in general quite frankly.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is history in the making--though I don't think I need to tell you that. No matter what happens from here, we are in for it. This is huge. This is my generation's big event, like the tossup of the Sixties only not nearly as mad. (I like the sixties.)
I was told that this fervor that surrounds Obama right now is very similar to what surrounded John F. Kennedy. I've heard the comparison before. I hope that Obama will be loved in the same way (though I'm well aware JFK had his enemies), and I really, really hope that the same fate does not befall Obama. It only takes one asshole to unravel everything America has to hope for right now.
Remember in the last post, when I mentioned how worried I was about America's global image? Well I didn't anticipate at the time that Obama would be so very well-recieved worldwide. I'd heard about the huge crowds in Berlin when Obama visited, but I didn't have an inkling of the rest of the world's response. I'm so glad. Extremely. But just think--it will only take one asshole to show the world Hey look America just killed their own president.
...There's so much that could happen. So much. I feel like I'd jinx it if I started speculating. But the impact of an Obama assassination would be felt SO MUCH MORE than the JFK assassination--it would be a global event. It would start riots, it would start all this crap that could easily be avoided except for the fact that there are racists and...well...racists. Forgive me but I can't see someone who diverges from Obama's political views being so angry that they'd want to assassinate him.
Mmn. I speculated. Damn.
In other news there was Proposition 8, and here in my home state of Florida, Amendment 2. I'm very disappointed in the results. I'm exhausted from talking about it so much, so I'll wait a bit. If I'm lazy about explaining it, it'll offend people. This is something I've already found I have to mince words on.
Good job, America. Where do we go from here?
I'm not sure yet if Obama will be that guy. There's certainly the potential, but Mitch Clem may have said it best: "it was easy to get jaded and angry and nihilistic about our government over the past eight years, but I felt really proud tonight watching Obama's acceptance speech." Now, I'm only eighteen, so I was two weeks shy of being eleven when the 9/11 tragedy took place. So I spent the better part of my conscious life absorbed in that jaded, angry, nihilistic atmosphere. That to the point that I didn't even realize it was there. Now it seems to be alleviating a little--many people have hope, and it's because of Obama. Me being part of that aformentioned nihilism, I am not sure whether I want to wrap up all my hopes with Obama. I'm used to being disappointed in America, in Americans, in people in general quite frankly.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is history in the making--though I don't think I need to tell you that. No matter what happens from here, we are in for it. This is huge. This is my generation's big event, like the tossup of the Sixties only not nearly as mad. (I like the sixties.)
I was told that this fervor that surrounds Obama right now is very similar to what surrounded John F. Kennedy. I've heard the comparison before. I hope that Obama will be loved in the same way (though I'm well aware JFK had his enemies), and I really, really hope that the same fate does not befall Obama. It only takes one asshole to unravel everything America has to hope for right now.
Remember in the last post, when I mentioned how worried I was about America's global image? Well I didn't anticipate at the time that Obama would be so very well-recieved worldwide. I'd heard about the huge crowds in Berlin when Obama visited, but I didn't have an inkling of the rest of the world's response. I'm so glad. Extremely. But just think--it will only take one asshole to show the world Hey look America just killed their own president.
...There's so much that could happen. So much. I feel like I'd jinx it if I started speculating. But the impact of an Obama assassination would be felt SO MUCH MORE than the JFK assassination--it would be a global event. It would start riots, it would start all this crap that could easily be avoided except for the fact that there are racists and...well...racists. Forgive me but I can't see someone who diverges from Obama's political views being so angry that they'd want to assassinate him.
Mmn. I speculated. Damn.
In other news there was Proposition 8, and here in my home state of Florida, Amendment 2. I'm very disappointed in the results. I'm exhausted from talking about it so much, so I'll wait a bit. If I'm lazy about explaining it, it'll offend people. This is something I've already found I have to mince words on.
Good job, America. Where do we go from here?
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Well ain't that America
All right, all right, all right. I know I haven't posted in a long while, but that's all right because no one is reading this. So you, you nonexistent reader, don't worry about it. It takes time to come up with something profound you know.
I am going to start a new blog beside this one, probably in conjuction with my ~Egression art blog thing, just to give me leg room with my sketches. I'll get you a link as soon as I actually make it.
Now for the profound stuff(?). Looking back over my previous posts, it occurred to me that I sound like someone greatly ashamed of the country I live in. This is half true. My relationship with the United States of America is a greatly conflicted one, one that probably needs marriage counseling. That I am completely ashamed of being American is a baseless statement. However, I'm also not completely thrilled with being American.
On the one hand is simple patriotism. I'm American. I was born here, in Roseland, Florida. I was raised by American parents in an English-speaking household. I pledge allegiance to the flag, et cetera. I am American and to denounce that would be just silly. It is the same as any Gators fan sticking to his guns because he is a University of Florida alumni--hell man! This is my country! (I have the same relationship with my high school.)
Americans have their redeeming points too, I suppose. We are greatly humanitarian--see our absurd capital punishment rules--to a fault, I suppose, in which we wussify ourselves. We have a sense of humor which I can't believe there's an article on. We are able to come together in times of hardship despite the basic human instinct to take care of oneself first (see Hurricane Charley, Ivan, Frances and Jeanne recovery efforts in 2004, and Hurricane Katrina efforts in 2005). The ideals this country is built on, while maybe nearly impossible to carry out, are really to me a blessing. I relish being able to say exactly what I think about the government, the legislature, and you. I like having the opportunity to make something out of myself. We are a lucky country, and we provide all opportunities to our citizens--it's what you make of them, people. If it's hard, try. You live in a country you CAN try in.
Which leads me to what I don't like about America. We are incredible whiners. I will in fact indulge in that particular American pastime right now. I am tired of seeing stupid, skinny blond bimbos who use 'fuck' as a noun, verb, and adjective but can't point to Canada on a map. I am tired of the material want: want the new iPhone, want those $300 jeans, want the newest $100,000 car--people there are folks starving in the world. Folks who just want to EAT. I'm particularly sick of people complaining about what they do have: dropping out of a program THEY CHOSE because it's too much work. If you picked it, stick with it, or at least don't complain. You brought it on yourself. You live in a country where you have every opportunity to get all of those things. So work for them. Just because you're American doesn't mean things will be handed to you on a silver platter. You did nothing special yet to deserve it.
We aren't the most intelligent of people either. I am as desperately worried about our national image as an anorexic is about her weight (though that may be hyperbole, maybe even going too far). The chemistry teacher at my school is Canadian, and tells me that everyone up there is under the impression that all Americans are rednecks with guns and accents like Dubya's. An overachiever who attended my school in years past came back from his visit to famine-stricken Africa to inform us that they all think Americans are fat and lazy. And of course you have the Islamic extremists who call us Big Satan (I refuse to get sidetracked with that accusation right now, you nutcases). Now, I can see where all three of these come from. First, if there's any sect of society that I like the least, it's the rednecks. I'm sorry but come on, get an education, put the gun and the beer down, and get over your constipated racism (generalization!). Secondly, quite a lot of us are fat and that's a shame. Predictable, but nontheless, a shame. However we are not lazy, not the majority anyways. We work ridiculously hard for stupid things. At least the people in Africa are working to live, maybe enjoy themselves. But that's a rant for another time. And thirdly, I suppose if you live in a country where the sight of a woman without her veil in the streets is blasphemous, we are definitely Big Satan.
I went overseas a couple years ago to visit England and part of France. Overall it was an enjoyable experience--I learned so much, got punch-drunk on culture shock, was disappointed by the Mona Lisa, and saw my first-ever live stage musical (Wicked). I met some mixed opinions on Americans there. On the one hand, Londoners are very unfriendly. Or just indifferent. We did encounter one totally smashed woman on the subway who yelled at us for going to war and wasting all the money, which I still get enraged just thinking about. But we (myself and Mansi) did encounter a woman and her young son in Oxford who was very pleasant to us, and talked a while to us, actually interested in our country. Additionally, the Parisians were very polite, contrary to popular belief. As long as you tried to say 'Bonjour' and said 'please' and 'thank you', they were very cordial, even friendly. So we were not discriminated against for being Americans, however isolated we felt for being foreigners.
I do not see our national image problem as one with foreign policy. I see it as, We Americans, we need to fix ourselves. Fix the public. Stop being so fat and rude when overseas (I witnessed this), and learn some geography. We are not the supreme rulers of the world, and we most CERTAINLY aren't "the greatest force of good on Earth" (thanks a lot, McCain--I already presented my views on 'good' and 'evil'). We can't expect other countries to like us if we act so utterly retarded.
You can see my dilemma. I have always fought myself over my relationship with my country. I probably always will. Unfortunately I will probably be one of those old woman who grumbles all the time about 'kids these days'. I'm doing it now and it's stupid. But anyways...I am American, and I'd rather be that than anything else, but we're far from perfect, just like every other country.
I am going to start a new blog beside this one, probably in conjuction with my ~Egression art blog thing, just to give me leg room with my sketches. I'll get you a link as soon as I actually make it.
Now for the profound stuff(?). Looking back over my previous posts, it occurred to me that I sound like someone greatly ashamed of the country I live in. This is half true. My relationship with the United States of America is a greatly conflicted one, one that probably needs marriage counseling. That I am completely ashamed of being American is a baseless statement. However, I'm also not completely thrilled with being American.
On the one hand is simple patriotism. I'm American. I was born here, in Roseland, Florida. I was raised by American parents in an English-speaking household. I pledge allegiance to the flag, et cetera. I am American and to denounce that would be just silly. It is the same as any Gators fan sticking to his guns because he is a University of Florida alumni--hell man! This is my country! (I have the same relationship with my high school.)
Americans have their redeeming points too, I suppose. We are greatly humanitarian--see our absurd capital punishment rules--to a fault, I suppose, in which we wussify ourselves. We have a sense of humor which I can't believe there's an article on. We are able to come together in times of hardship despite the basic human instinct to take care of oneself first (see Hurricane Charley, Ivan, Frances and Jeanne recovery efforts in 2004, and Hurricane Katrina efforts in 2005). The ideals this country is built on, while maybe nearly impossible to carry out, are really to me a blessing. I relish being able to say exactly what I think about the government, the legislature, and you. I like having the opportunity to make something out of myself. We are a lucky country, and we provide all opportunities to our citizens--it's what you make of them, people. If it's hard, try. You live in a country you CAN try in.
Which leads me to what I don't like about America. We are incredible whiners. I will in fact indulge in that particular American pastime right now. I am tired of seeing stupid, skinny blond bimbos who use 'fuck' as a noun, verb, and adjective but can't point to Canada on a map. I am tired of the material want: want the new iPhone, want those $300 jeans, want the newest $100,000 car--people there are folks starving in the world. Folks who just want to EAT. I'm particularly sick of people complaining about what they do have: dropping out of a program THEY CHOSE because it's too much work. If you picked it, stick with it, or at least don't complain. You brought it on yourself. You live in a country where you have every opportunity to get all of those things. So work for them. Just because you're American doesn't mean things will be handed to you on a silver platter. You did nothing special yet to deserve it.
We aren't the most intelligent of people either. I am as desperately worried about our national image as an anorexic is about her weight (though that may be hyperbole, maybe even going too far). The chemistry teacher at my school is Canadian, and tells me that everyone up there is under the impression that all Americans are rednecks with guns and accents like Dubya's. An overachiever who attended my school in years past came back from his visit to famine-stricken Africa to inform us that they all think Americans are fat and lazy. And of course you have the Islamic extremists who call us Big Satan (I refuse to get sidetracked with that accusation right now, you nutcases). Now, I can see where all three of these come from. First, if there's any sect of society that I like the least, it's the rednecks. I'm sorry but come on, get an education, put the gun and the beer down, and get over your constipated racism (generalization!). Secondly, quite a lot of us are fat and that's a shame. Predictable, but nontheless, a shame. However we are not lazy, not the majority anyways. We work ridiculously hard for stupid things. At least the people in Africa are working to live, maybe enjoy themselves. But that's a rant for another time. And thirdly, I suppose if you live in a country where the sight of a woman without her veil in the streets is blasphemous, we are definitely Big Satan.
I went overseas a couple years ago to visit England and part of France. Overall it was an enjoyable experience--I learned so much, got punch-drunk on culture shock, was disappointed by the Mona Lisa, and saw my first-ever live stage musical (Wicked). I met some mixed opinions on Americans there. On the one hand, Londoners are very unfriendly. Or just indifferent. We did encounter one totally smashed woman on the subway who yelled at us for going to war and wasting all the money, which I still get enraged just thinking about. But we (myself and Mansi) did encounter a woman and her young son in Oxford who was very pleasant to us, and talked a while to us, actually interested in our country. Additionally, the Parisians were very polite, contrary to popular belief. As long as you tried to say 'Bonjour' and said 'please' and 'thank you', they were very cordial, even friendly. So we were not discriminated against for being Americans, however isolated we felt for being foreigners.
I do not see our national image problem as one with foreign policy. I see it as, We Americans, we need to fix ourselves. Fix the public. Stop being so fat and rude when overseas (I witnessed this), and learn some geography. We are not the supreme rulers of the world, and we most CERTAINLY aren't "the greatest force of good on Earth" (thanks a lot, McCain--I already presented my views on 'good' and 'evil'). We can't expect other countries to like us if we act so utterly retarded.
You can see my dilemma. I have always fought myself over my relationship with my country. I probably always will. Unfortunately I will probably be one of those old woman who grumbles all the time about 'kids these days'. I'm doing it now and it's stupid. But anyways...I am American, and I'd rather be that than anything else, but we're far from perfect, just like every other country.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
This is the end of my disenchantment
Tonight I appreciated Florida again.
Dusk was cool and very gently breezy. The colors of the sky were bruised yellow and orange, purple and grey, melting down together over the roof of the house across the street. The fountain sprayed a cool mist over my feet as I sat on the bench beside my bedroom window, surrounded by tiny tree frogs and geckos. I watched larger frogs squeeze their way magically out from the pipes of our bronze windchimes. My mom sat beside me, and we just looked and were quiet.
The wind was soothing in the palms beside the wrought-iron fence, and in the willowy dipping tree in the middle of the front yard. My mom pointed out that when we'd moved in here twelve years ago, both of those trees had been not much more than sticks. I thought about that, sitting content for a few suspended moments in the dew left by the rain. It had been twelve years. And in one year from now I would leave this place, probably for four years, maybe longer.
The thought brought tears to my eyes. I'm excited to go to Savannah. Fall there is probably beautiful. I want to live for a while in their small, beauteous downtown. But I realized all in one fell swoop how much I would miss the particular kind of night I described above. Sure, I have always appreciated Florida, and its hot humidity and wild sunshine and absurdly beautiful blue skies and light shattering through the fronds of spindly strong palms. Its clear water and ambling, spread-out peace. Its weird culture of Yankee transplants and Carribean influence. Even its straight-line, flat-as-a-board highways, with their wild snarls of underbrush, the occasional brief magic glimpse of a panther or deer. After twelve years of it I was beginning to feel that while I loved it, I was ready to leave it for a bit. Now I realize I will indeed miss it--the tiny frogs sticking to my windows, the surprise of finding an anole in your house, the herons landing in your backyard.
I thought back to a conversation Mansi and I had with one of our favorite teachers, Mr. Smith. He was right, about several things. There are so many of us with no ambition now. So many of us who expect to glide through life ignorantly. So many of us not caring to achieve. We wondered where the country will go. Where the world will end up. If America's end as a superpower is at hand. What will happen to us. We talked about the world ending in 2012 and speculated what would happen. Fearlessly at the time, maybe. But by the end of it our smiles were a little uneasy and we went away quietly.
I thought about the turmoil in financial America. How everything is so poised, as my Theory of Knowledge teacher put it, "to come crashing over its precipice". I looked up through the palm fronds at the bruise-purple/grey sky and thought, America's last beautiful night. It's amazing how I can sit here and think how pretty the sky is and how nice the breeze feels and how cool the little frogs are, while my country is so ready to crumble. I remembered that my mother mentioned us only having about a hundred seventy-nine dollars in the bank this week. And she was sitting beside me, maybe thinking the same things, and yet also said how beautiful the night was.
It was a lesson. It was a TOK moment, Mr. Hall.
Dusk was cool and very gently breezy. The colors of the sky were bruised yellow and orange, purple and grey, melting down together over the roof of the house across the street. The fountain sprayed a cool mist over my feet as I sat on the bench beside my bedroom window, surrounded by tiny tree frogs and geckos. I watched larger frogs squeeze their way magically out from the pipes of our bronze windchimes. My mom sat beside me, and we just looked and were quiet.
The wind was soothing in the palms beside the wrought-iron fence, and in the willowy dipping tree in the middle of the front yard. My mom pointed out that when we'd moved in here twelve years ago, both of those trees had been not much more than sticks. I thought about that, sitting content for a few suspended moments in the dew left by the rain. It had been twelve years. And in one year from now I would leave this place, probably for four years, maybe longer.
The thought brought tears to my eyes. I'm excited to go to Savannah. Fall there is probably beautiful. I want to live for a while in their small, beauteous downtown. But I realized all in one fell swoop how much I would miss the particular kind of night I described above. Sure, I have always appreciated Florida, and its hot humidity and wild sunshine and absurdly beautiful blue skies and light shattering through the fronds of spindly strong palms. Its clear water and ambling, spread-out peace. Its weird culture of Yankee transplants and Carribean influence. Even its straight-line, flat-as-a-board highways, with their wild snarls of underbrush, the occasional brief magic glimpse of a panther or deer. After twelve years of it I was beginning to feel that while I loved it, I was ready to leave it for a bit. Now I realize I will indeed miss it--the tiny frogs sticking to my windows, the surprise of finding an anole in your house, the herons landing in your backyard.
I thought back to a conversation Mansi and I had with one of our favorite teachers, Mr. Smith. He was right, about several things. There are so many of us with no ambition now. So many of us who expect to glide through life ignorantly. So many of us not caring to achieve. We wondered where the country will go. Where the world will end up. If America's end as a superpower is at hand. What will happen to us. We talked about the world ending in 2012 and speculated what would happen. Fearlessly at the time, maybe. But by the end of it our smiles were a little uneasy and we went away quietly.
I thought about the turmoil in financial America. How everything is so poised, as my Theory of Knowledge teacher put it, "to come crashing over its precipice". I looked up through the palm fronds at the bruise-purple/grey sky and thought, America's last beautiful night. It's amazing how I can sit here and think how pretty the sky is and how nice the breeze feels and how cool the little frogs are, while my country is so ready to crumble. I remembered that my mother mentioned us only having about a hundred seventy-nine dollars in the bank this week. And she was sitting beside me, maybe thinking the same things, and yet also said how beautiful the night was.
It was a lesson. It was a TOK moment, Mr. Hall.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
A Xoloitzcuintli has no hair, incidentally. Interesting twist. I was aware of hairless cats...
I feel like I've been doing absolutely nothing but reading online manga and applying for colleges. Endless processes, both of them...however I've now completely caught up to the current Bleach and D. Grey-Man, whereas after an entire afternoon of applications I only have UF's and UCF's virtually finished.
In any case I have become once again aware of a few strange things, 1) that my characters reflect me with incredible detail, 2) I sleep so much because my diet is terrible, and 3) I am just about over this crap. Oh yes, and my blog-writing style has descended into sounded curiously like Tycho Brahe's and I don't know why that is, except that I feel formality causes me to be taken seriously and make my sparkling, witty sarcasm more apparent. And anyways I'm not writing about video games.
1) I should already know this, really. I produced characters like a sponge produces offspring, that is to say that they bud. I could not put something in a character that is not part of me, or someone or something I know. I tend to make the things I give them worse, for example, yes, I am prone to periods of mild depression, whereas Numair tends to get suicidal. I am claustrophobic but still self-controlled, at least compared to Hawk, who will scream and shake and freak out when cornered in a small space. Yet I tend to shape these characters without really thinking about what part of me they take, and so only realize later when they've taken full form what they mean. I will go no further with this. Make of it what you will.
2) Breakfast is usually nothing. Lunch is usually an eggroll at school or soup at home. Dinner is usually a frozen dinner. I drink a Coke every day and don't exercise. I'm five feet tall and a hundred five pounds. I sleep an average of eight to eight and a half hours a night. I'm subject to aches and pains and chronic sinus headaches and also fatigue. I'm noting now why. That's all.
3) THIS IS ENOUGH FILLERS GET TO SHIPPUDEN ALREADY. My God. At this rate we will get to Shippuden in March 2009. I've about abandoned this anime in favor of D. Grey-Man and Bleach. Shonen Jump series always have a ridiculous amount of fillers but seriously this is absolutely ridiculous.
This post really wasn't worth much. All my intelligent thoughts have been going towards art composition and Theory of Knowledge lately.
I feel like I've been doing absolutely nothing but reading online manga and applying for colleges. Endless processes, both of them...however I've now completely caught up to the current Bleach and D. Grey-Man, whereas after an entire afternoon of applications I only have UF's and UCF's virtually finished.
In any case I have become once again aware of a few strange things, 1) that my characters reflect me with incredible detail, 2) I sleep so much because my diet is terrible, and 3) I am just about over this crap. Oh yes, and my blog-writing style has descended into sounded curiously like Tycho Brahe's and I don't know why that is, except that I feel formality causes me to be taken seriously and make my sparkling, witty sarcasm more apparent. And anyways I'm not writing about video games.
1) I should already know this, really. I produced characters like a sponge produces offspring, that is to say that they bud. I could not put something in a character that is not part of me, or someone or something I know. I tend to make the things I give them worse, for example, yes, I am prone to periods of mild depression, whereas Numair tends to get suicidal. I am claustrophobic but still self-controlled, at least compared to Hawk, who will scream and shake and freak out when cornered in a small space. Yet I tend to shape these characters without really thinking about what part of me they take, and so only realize later when they've taken full form what they mean. I will go no further with this. Make of it what you will.
2) Breakfast is usually nothing. Lunch is usually an eggroll at school or soup at home. Dinner is usually a frozen dinner. I drink a Coke every day and don't exercise. I'm five feet tall and a hundred five pounds. I sleep an average of eight to eight and a half hours a night. I'm subject to aches and pains and chronic sinus headaches and also fatigue. I'm noting now why. That's all.
3) THIS IS ENOUGH FILLERS GET TO SHIPPUDEN ALREADY. My God. At this rate we will get to Shippuden in March 2009. I've about abandoned this anime in favor of D. Grey-Man and Bleach. Shonen Jump series always have a ridiculous amount of fillers but seriously this is absolutely ridiculous.
This post really wasn't worth much. All my intelligent thoughts have been going towards art composition and Theory of Knowledge lately.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Islands in the North are Cold
You'd get the title if you read One Piece. I've neglected this space for a while, having had nothing really worthwhile to say, but today I believe I'll share with you an AMAZING thing that happened to me today. (I'm off school because of T.S. Fay.) I had an intelligent conversation with a stranger! Over the INTERNET no less! That's amazing. I'm of the belief that there are very few intelligent people in the world on the Internet and they don't often meet by chance.
I was on my deviantART when I found this stamp. I found something in her artist comments to be incorrect (I think, anyways) so I commented. The other people were making me mad anyways.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
Dog breeds isn't evolution. It's artificial selection.
Here's a better example: the birds in the Galapagos. Darwin? You know. Each one had a common ancestor, but through natural selection (which is related to evolution) each came to have different-shaped beaks so they could eat different foods so they wouldn't all be competing for the same food.
Or just look at these pictures, which will show you a good deal of human evolution.
Paranthropus boisei
Australopithecus africanus
Homo erectus
Homo sapiens
I don't think the links work now. I copypasta'd.
Mind you there's a big gap in between Homo erectus and Homo sapiens because I can't remember what goes there, I took this class two years ago.
*G-manluver:
no, it is evolution actually, artificial selection is still select pressure and thus is still evolution. You're mistaking natural selection for the entirity of the theory of evolution.
As you probably know evolution is more than just natural selection, there is also the mechanism of gene flow and genetic drift which are NOT nature exclusive.
Because there are more than just nature influences towards evolution ANY SPECIES change is still consider under evolution. This is a common and I guess you could say fatal error people make. Because they do not see dog breeding as evolution they assume that all evolution can only be influence by natural selection and since natural selection based evolution is very slow in comparison to artificial selection people assume evolution cannot work because of the speed it takes.
But if you still think dog breeds aren't evolution there is at least one breed of dog that was molded by nature and not humans called the Xoloitzcuintli.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
No no no, I'm not mistaking natural selection for evolution, because natural selection cannot work unless the concept of evolution does. (Or unless there's a God. Not going there.) I would say using dog breeds as an example is kind of a stretch. I don't know what a Xoloitzcuintli is but I will find out. The reason I think it's a stretch is because people, human beings, breed dogs based on the traits they want. They may cross an English bulldog and a terrier to get a French bulldog over successive generations (don't quote me on that). The changes from one breed to an offspring breed is from crossing dogs of unlike hereditary backgrounds and I'd correlate it to crossing two humans of different ethnicities.
Evolution works by need, or needlessness. It's over continual, successive generations that things will develop or change as need be, not through crossing different ethnicities or breeds or anything, but just through need. For example humans began to walk on two legs over time because it was to their advantage to see over the grasslands of Africa. In some parts of the world it was to their advantage to have dark skin; in some parts of the world like Europe dark skin was unnesscessary and so over time it became lighter.
I would say that dog breeds introduces variation through artificial selection despite need, buuuut if you go by the definition that indeed any change in a species is evolution...where does that stop? At what point is it no longer evolution and just a quirk of variation in the gene pool? For example the mestizos--ethnic crosses that resulted in a Native American-Spanish population of 'mixed bloods'. Is that considered evolution?
*G-manluver:
I think it actually is because mixing two different population (for humans we call them "races") is a mechanism of evolution called "gene flow".
Evolution actually covers a lot more than what most people think. Most people assume it only covers changes in nature, or only big changes, or only speciation or only this or only that, it covers it all and more.
If a species of frog get longer legs because someone killed on the short legged frogs and now only long legged frogs exist: that's still evolution. If a bunch of dogs get loose and centuries later they find them and now they have longer snouts: that's still evolution. If two groups of will lions with distinct features (breeds) mix together and become one: yet that's still evolution.
But for the last example: remember that breeds, not species! what defines a species is when two population can no longer mix together, when they still can any mix is consider a contribution to the species' evolution.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
I recognize that evolution covers natural selection and such, but wouldn't changes in evolution go for species as a whole, i.e. with the frogs having longer legs? Any mix, any breed, would be one part of the species, i.e. not all humans are suddenly mestizo.
Also I want to disagree with changes being absolute. There's always subtle variation. I doubt all the frogs now have longer legs; there will be those oddballs still carrying the short leg gene. A good example would be a certain species of moth that lived in the Black Forest. Long ago most of them were light in color, to blend in with the bark; the minority dark ones got eaten. However what with pollution the bark of those trees is now dark, and the minority-majority balance has flipped--there are more dark moths because the light ones tend to get eaten.
Gregor Mendel was the first to state that variation exists in the population of every species. Those genes might not always be present, if they're recessive, and sometimes the recessive genes can become the predominant trait of a species just because the organisms carrying the dominant genes have been killed off for some reason. So these traits already exist in the genes, so...why would that be evolution? Now, dropping off a gene or gaining a new set totally, like if humans stopped having pinky toes, I can see why that would be, because of the change in genetic makeup.
*G-manluver:
oh course those changes aren't absolute, heck there are still humans born with tails and human haven't had tails naturally for millions of years xP. Its more when most members of a distinct population of a species have a particular trait that is consider them "evolving". So if most rottweilers have black fur with brown regions than that is usually the norm, if more and more member become completely black through some mutation that keeps being passed down then we would consider them "evolving" or at least that's how I understand it.
Genetic related stuff is not my best subject when it comes to evolution. to my understanding most evolution is just mutation in existent genes, like a particular piece of data being lost or having a secondary copy which creates new traits. Most these traits are neutral, some are bad and some are good.
For example a small percentage of european decendants have a almost complete immunity of AIDS, this isn't a new gene per se, just a mutation of existing genes that allows that population to be immune to AIDS infections.
If genetic drift took place and members without this mutation died for some reason unrelated to AIDS, the trait would probably grow and become more common. Also, if these europeans bred with Indians its possible that these mix individuals would thus be immune to AIDS as well, meaning not only europeans would be immune but Indian-europeans also.
As you can see, no natural selection was required for the anti-AIDS gene to be passed down and become part of our species but as far as I know this would still be consider evolution.
Hope this reply makes sense since I may have misread yours and not got what you were trying to ask.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
Mmmn the way I figure it a change can come from evolution but not necessarily natural selection. Natural selection as I know it is strictly that the organisms adapted best are the survivors. If AIDS became a pandemic, then I'd consider humans shifting to almost entirely being immune to it an act of natural selection.
And I would say that the anti-AIDs gene for example coming about as a mutation wouldn't be considered evolution until it becomes a normal gene for the majority of humans. Or there's a fine line somewhere I'm missing. I'm fairly certain evolution means characteristic changes in a species over all, not just in a segment of it, like dog breeds.
Though following that thought you could consider dog breeds evolution if you define a 'dog' as being a species of enormous variation by its very nature...
*G-manluver:
yeah, its pretty hard to see what is consider evolution, I think in general its only consider an evolved trait when many individuals from the same population for it but I could be wrong.
In case you haven't realized by now I'm a believer in evolution.
I was on my deviantART when I found this stamp. I found something in her artist comments to be incorrect (I think, anyways) so I commented. The other people were making me mad anyways.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
Dog breeds isn't evolution. It's artificial selection.
Here's a better example: the birds in the Galapagos. Darwin? You know. Each one had a common ancestor, but through natural selection (which is related to evolution) each came to have different-shaped beaks so they could eat different foods so they wouldn't all be competing for the same food.
Or just look at these pictures, which will show you a good deal of human evolution.
Paranthropus boisei
Australopithecus africanus
Homo erectus
Homo sapiens
I don't think the links work now. I copypasta'd.
Mind you there's a big gap in between Homo erectus and Homo sapiens because I can't remember what goes there, I took this class two years ago.
*G-manluver:
no, it is evolution actually, artificial selection is still select pressure and thus is still evolution. You're mistaking natural selection for the entirity of the theory of evolution.
As you probably know evolution is more than just natural selection, there is also the mechanism of gene flow and genetic drift which are NOT nature exclusive.
Because there are more than just nature influences towards evolution ANY SPECIES change is still consider under evolution. This is a common and I guess you could say fatal error people make. Because they do not see dog breeding as evolution they assume that all evolution can only be influence by natural selection and since natural selection based evolution is very slow in comparison to artificial selection people assume evolution cannot work because of the speed it takes.
But if you still think dog breeds aren't evolution there is at least one breed of dog that was molded by nature and not humans called the Xoloitzcuintli.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
No no no, I'm not mistaking natural selection for evolution, because natural selection cannot work unless the concept of evolution does. (Or unless there's a God. Not going there.) I would say using dog breeds as an example is kind of a stretch. I don't know what a Xoloitzcuintli is but I will find out. The reason I think it's a stretch is because people, human beings, breed dogs based on the traits they want. They may cross an English bulldog and a terrier to get a French bulldog over successive generations (don't quote me on that). The changes from one breed to an offspring breed is from crossing dogs of unlike hereditary backgrounds and I'd correlate it to crossing two humans of different ethnicities.
Evolution works by need, or needlessness. It's over continual, successive generations that things will develop or change as need be, not through crossing different ethnicities or breeds or anything, but just through need. For example humans began to walk on two legs over time because it was to their advantage to see over the grasslands of Africa. In some parts of the world it was to their advantage to have dark skin; in some parts of the world like Europe dark skin was unnesscessary and so over time it became lighter.
I would say that dog breeds introduces variation through artificial selection despite need, buuuut if you go by the definition that indeed any change in a species is evolution...where does that stop? At what point is it no longer evolution and just a quirk of variation in the gene pool? For example the mestizos--ethnic crosses that resulted in a Native American-Spanish population of 'mixed bloods'. Is that considered evolution?
*G-manluver:
I think it actually is because mixing two different population (for humans we call them "races") is a mechanism of evolution called "gene flow".
Evolution actually covers a lot more than what most people think. Most people assume it only covers changes in nature, or only big changes, or only speciation or only this or only that, it covers it all and more.
If a species of frog get longer legs because someone killed on the short legged frogs and now only long legged frogs exist: that's still evolution. If a bunch of dogs get loose and centuries later they find them and now they have longer snouts: that's still evolution. If two groups of will lions with distinct features (breeds) mix together and become one: yet that's still evolution.
But for the last example: remember that breeds, not species! what defines a species is when two population can no longer mix together, when they still can any mix is consider a contribution to the species' evolution.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
I recognize that evolution covers natural selection and such, but wouldn't changes in evolution go for species as a whole, i.e. with the frogs having longer legs? Any mix, any breed, would be one part of the species, i.e. not all humans are suddenly mestizo.
Also I want to disagree with changes being absolute. There's always subtle variation. I doubt all the frogs now have longer legs; there will be those oddballs still carrying the short leg gene. A good example would be a certain species of moth that lived in the Black Forest. Long ago most of them were light in color, to blend in with the bark; the minority dark ones got eaten. However what with pollution the bark of those trees is now dark, and the minority-majority balance has flipped--there are more dark moths because the light ones tend to get eaten.
Gregor Mendel was the first to state that variation exists in the population of every species. Those genes might not always be present, if they're recessive, and sometimes the recessive genes can become the predominant trait of a species just because the organisms carrying the dominant genes have been killed off for some reason. So these traits already exist in the genes, so...why would that be evolution? Now, dropping off a gene or gaining a new set totally, like if humans stopped having pinky toes, I can see why that would be, because of the change in genetic makeup.
*G-manluver:
oh course those changes aren't absolute, heck there are still humans born with tails and human haven't had tails naturally for millions of years xP. Its more when most members of a distinct population of a species have a particular trait that is consider them "evolving". So if most rottweilers have black fur with brown regions than that is usually the norm, if more and more member become completely black through some mutation that keeps being passed down then we would consider them "evolving" or at least that's how I understand it.
Genetic related stuff is not my best subject when it comes to evolution. to my understanding most evolution is just mutation in existent genes, like a particular piece of data being lost or having a secondary copy which creates new traits. Most these traits are neutral, some are bad and some are good.
For example a small percentage of european decendants have a almost complete immunity of AIDS, this isn't a new gene per se, just a mutation of existing genes that allows that population to be immune to AIDS infections.
If genetic drift took place and members without this mutation died for some reason unrelated to AIDS, the trait would probably grow and become more common. Also, if these europeans bred with Indians its possible that these mix individuals would thus be immune to AIDS as well, meaning not only europeans would be immune but Indian-europeans also.
As you can see, no natural selection was required for the anti-AIDS gene to be passed down and become part of our species but as far as I know this would still be consider evolution.
Hope this reply makes sense since I may have misread yours and not got what you were trying to ask.
*Plenoptics-Inc:
Mmmn the way I figure it a change can come from evolution but not necessarily natural selection. Natural selection as I know it is strictly that the organisms adapted best are the survivors. If AIDS became a pandemic, then I'd consider humans shifting to almost entirely being immune to it an act of natural selection.
And I would say that the anti-AIDs gene for example coming about as a mutation wouldn't be considered evolution until it becomes a normal gene for the majority of humans. Or there's a fine line somewhere I'm missing. I'm fairly certain evolution means characteristic changes in a species over all, not just in a segment of it, like dog breeds.
Though following that thought you could consider dog breeds evolution if you define a 'dog' as being a species of enormous variation by its very nature...
*G-manluver:
yeah, its pretty hard to see what is consider evolution, I think in general its only consider an evolved trait when many individuals from the same population for it but I could be wrong.
In case you haven't realized by now I'm a believer in evolution.
Monday, August 11, 2008
In the midnight hour
Rebel Yell was never originally supposed to have a point. It wasn't even a story, originally, it was a role-play between myself and my friend Storm. It was only after the characters started to act independently of me that I thought about writing the whole thing down in book form. Therefore I didn't set out, in writing it, with a clear moral or message in mind. But as the world becomes infinitely layered, the plot intricately convoluted, and the characters intimately real, I start reading messages in it I hadn't consciously put there.
As the story has developed, several moral issues have come to light in it. The story's gradually taken on its own life, the dark side of life at that, the kind of issues you wouldn't find in your average fantasy novel. All the compass points of sin touch the novel at some point, just as they will pretty much every life in some way. Examples. Numair struggles quite often with chronic depression, and inside the middle and latter parts of the story, he contemplates seriously committing suicide. Hawk's older brother was an 'ink' user (ink is an injected drug I conjured, because I don't know a hell of a lot about real drugs besides the basics), and had to fight to stop using it. Hawk himself drinks and smokes cigarettes for a good part of the series. Vladimir was a victim of the spirit slave trade, and as a result being sexually abused was part of his growing up; later he is a victim of domestic abuse. Vladimir is also homosexual, which for a spirit is highly unusual. Lavainth becomes pregnant with Hawk's child, and she and Kamui, the doctor, have a serious discussion about having an abortion. Yoshi and Zensu both were victims of child neglect and abuse.
I have never liked real life as much as fiction, and I have never liked straight fantasies like Lord of the Rings very much. (I'm an incredibly picky reader.) Possibly these contradictory tastes of mine caused Rebel Yell to go from a straight fantasy (which it was) to a 'magical realism'. We have very human issues here, like depression, suicide, and abuse, but with inhuman characters--the winged 'guardian angel' Hawk, the spirit prince Numair, the genetically engineered demon Lavainth, the half-human, half-demon Yoshi.
Rebel Yell is also a thinly disguised political and social satire, I would say. My world Aetheri is quite like America--big, powerful, and greatly disliked. The spirits of Aetheri are in many ways just better at what they do than we in America. The government is carefully set up so that the power is in the hands of the people; the king has his authority, but if the people do not like what he does, they can impeach him in favor of another of the royal family (the throne has never yet had to change hands from one family to another). However their relationships with other worlds is the same fragile sort as ours with other countries--they are stronger, more in control, but not well liked. It's a love-hate relationship.
The spirits of Aetheri consider showing emotions a social faux pas. Stop right there and think about it. Are we not the same? I mentioned that before too. Today we all must be hard-hearted careless bastards, or else we're 'sappy' or 'emo' or we don't have it together or whatever. It didn't used to be that way, look at the music of the sixties forward and tell me at what point did love songs cease to be 'I love you, the world is great' and descend into being 'I hate you, I love you, fuck the world' and songs like "Hey There Delilah" are an oddity? The spirits' notion of emotions being rude and contemptible evolved from my concept of that.
If there was any message to be gotten from Rebel Yell, it would be these. One, there's nothing wrong with being an outsider--every single character in the series is just that, from society mostly. Even the Prince of Aetheri, Numair. He's an empath, and therefore cannot hide his emotions with the same straightfaced clarity as his people. The other message would be that people of different walks, races, colors, et cetera can in fact coexist peacefully when that's all they have. My characters cloy together in a kind of dysfunctional family because the human nature wants acceptance, with anyone, and when society will not lend it that then it will seek it with outcasts like it.
Might I add that I built a brewing cultural revolution into my world Aetheri, however. Numair's generation of spirits is returning to 'feeling' again. They live in commune, in the older run down parts of the cities, leaving their doors wide open. They share space, food, and drugs; they are a community where no one is a stranger because they are all alike in that they are tired of not being able to feel. They paint, sculpt, sing. They're the Aetherian version of the hippies. It's my vague kind of wish, and apparently John Lennon's too, in which all these different people can live together without being paranoid of one another. In practice I know it doesn't work, but for the spirits, it does. It's just a matter of making the old generation accept it; making it acceptable to smile and laugh in public again, and to show off your art and musical skills in front of people you don't know.
In a way Rebel Yell is also a psychological exposè. (I mentioned that once too.) The characters, along with having to confront real issues (like what I listed above) and fictional issues (my villains of a sort), have several quite real psychological problems. I've done little research on these kinds of problems, not wanting to confine any one character to any one set of symptoms (every case is different; and in any case I'd like my characters to be atypical). But they're there.
Hawk in particular has a fear of losing people; caused by the neglect of his parents, the absence of his brother in his early life and later his brother's loss, his sister's disappearance, and then Dana's death. His fear of needles stems from seeing his brother dying from ink consumption, and later seeing an addict literally die from long-term use. His nervous system is naturally acclimated to higher stress levels than your average human being, due to being raised in a city during wartime. His claustrophobia comes from 1) being shut up in small closets during raids and 2) being much taller and thinner than your average human, thereby making small spaces seem smaller.
Numair is similar to Hawk psychologically and opposite him in every other way. He has a fear of abandonment; his father cared little for him, his extended family much less, and his adoptive 'father' Kamui disappeared on him during a war mission and was declared MIA. He is very fragile and sickly, unlike Hawk, and can easily become ill from stress. Despite being the Prince he cares little for material things, and is incredibly self-hating; he was told from an early age that he was not good enough and not worth the trouble. He is kind of an affection addict, because very little affection has ever been given to him, so he and his 'guardian angel' Hawk are comfortable hugging and kisssing each other. Hawk is the only thing he holds to belong to him; everything else (his authority, his rooms, his books, even Zensu) is borrowed. And so where Hawk is concerned he is very contradictory. On the one hand he is scared of tying Hawk down, because being inescapably the Prince, he knows what it's like to feel trapped--so he encourages Hawk not to love only him, and wants him to love Lavainth. One the other, he freaks out when Lavainth becomes pregnant, sure that Hawk will no longer have time for him, and that he'll fade into the background. He wants Hawk to be free, but at the same time wants Hawk all to himself, and yet loves Zensu and wants her too--he is selfish, and he knows it, and he hates it.
Those two are the most prominent characters, alongside Sakura and Yoshi, whom I feel guilty in admitting have become less important as time went on (they were originally the main characters). I feel that Rebel Yell is unique in that no one is a minor, flat character. Everyone is layered in some way.
The question that remains is, is it a good enough story? Will people like this, these psychological wanderings? Are they looking for better than the puddle-deep Twilight series and the not-at-all-mentally-focused Harry Potter series? Or are they, as 'hard-hearted careless bastards', satisfied with that and uncomfortable with looking deeper?
These are the kinds of questions that put me off sleep at night.
As the story has developed, several moral issues have come to light in it. The story's gradually taken on its own life, the dark side of life at that, the kind of issues you wouldn't find in your average fantasy novel. All the compass points of sin touch the novel at some point, just as they will pretty much every life in some way. Examples. Numair struggles quite often with chronic depression, and inside the middle and latter parts of the story, he contemplates seriously committing suicide. Hawk's older brother was an 'ink' user (ink is an injected drug I conjured, because I don't know a hell of a lot about real drugs besides the basics), and had to fight to stop using it. Hawk himself drinks and smokes cigarettes for a good part of the series. Vladimir was a victim of the spirit slave trade, and as a result being sexually abused was part of his growing up; later he is a victim of domestic abuse. Vladimir is also homosexual, which for a spirit is highly unusual. Lavainth becomes pregnant with Hawk's child, and she and Kamui, the doctor, have a serious discussion about having an abortion. Yoshi and Zensu both were victims of child neglect and abuse.
I have never liked real life as much as fiction, and I have never liked straight fantasies like Lord of the Rings very much. (I'm an incredibly picky reader.) Possibly these contradictory tastes of mine caused Rebel Yell to go from a straight fantasy (which it was) to a 'magical realism'. We have very human issues here, like depression, suicide, and abuse, but with inhuman characters--the winged 'guardian angel' Hawk, the spirit prince Numair, the genetically engineered demon Lavainth, the half-human, half-demon Yoshi.
Rebel Yell is also a thinly disguised political and social satire, I would say. My world Aetheri is quite like America--big, powerful, and greatly disliked. The spirits of Aetheri are in many ways just better at what they do than we in America. The government is carefully set up so that the power is in the hands of the people; the king has his authority, but if the people do not like what he does, they can impeach him in favor of another of the royal family (the throne has never yet had to change hands from one family to another). However their relationships with other worlds is the same fragile sort as ours with other countries--they are stronger, more in control, but not well liked. It's a love-hate relationship.
The spirits of Aetheri consider showing emotions a social faux pas. Stop right there and think about it. Are we not the same? I mentioned that before too. Today we all must be hard-hearted careless bastards, or else we're 'sappy' or 'emo' or we don't have it together or whatever. It didn't used to be that way, look at the music of the sixties forward and tell me at what point did love songs cease to be 'I love you, the world is great' and descend into being 'I hate you, I love you, fuck the world' and songs like "Hey There Delilah" are an oddity? The spirits' notion of emotions being rude and contemptible evolved from my concept of that.
If there was any message to be gotten from Rebel Yell, it would be these. One, there's nothing wrong with being an outsider--every single character in the series is just that, from society mostly. Even the Prince of Aetheri, Numair. He's an empath, and therefore cannot hide his emotions with the same straightfaced clarity as his people. The other message would be that people of different walks, races, colors, et cetera can in fact coexist peacefully when that's all they have. My characters cloy together in a kind of dysfunctional family because the human nature wants acceptance, with anyone, and when society will not lend it that then it will seek it with outcasts like it.
Might I add that I built a brewing cultural revolution into my world Aetheri, however. Numair's generation of spirits is returning to 'feeling' again. They live in commune, in the older run down parts of the cities, leaving their doors wide open. They share space, food, and drugs; they are a community where no one is a stranger because they are all alike in that they are tired of not being able to feel. They paint, sculpt, sing. They're the Aetherian version of the hippies. It's my vague kind of wish, and apparently John Lennon's too, in which all these different people can live together without being paranoid of one another. In practice I know it doesn't work, but for the spirits, it does. It's just a matter of making the old generation accept it; making it acceptable to smile and laugh in public again, and to show off your art and musical skills in front of people you don't know.
In a way Rebel Yell is also a psychological exposè. (I mentioned that once too.) The characters, along with having to confront real issues (like what I listed above) and fictional issues (my villains of a sort), have several quite real psychological problems. I've done little research on these kinds of problems, not wanting to confine any one character to any one set of symptoms (every case is different; and in any case I'd like my characters to be atypical). But they're there.
Hawk in particular has a fear of losing people; caused by the neglect of his parents, the absence of his brother in his early life and later his brother's loss, his sister's disappearance, and then Dana's death. His fear of needles stems from seeing his brother dying from ink consumption, and later seeing an addict literally die from long-term use. His nervous system is naturally acclimated to higher stress levels than your average human being, due to being raised in a city during wartime. His claustrophobia comes from 1) being shut up in small closets during raids and 2) being much taller and thinner than your average human, thereby making small spaces seem smaller.
Numair is similar to Hawk psychologically and opposite him in every other way. He has a fear of abandonment; his father cared little for him, his extended family much less, and his adoptive 'father' Kamui disappeared on him during a war mission and was declared MIA. He is very fragile and sickly, unlike Hawk, and can easily become ill from stress. Despite being the Prince he cares little for material things, and is incredibly self-hating; he was told from an early age that he was not good enough and not worth the trouble. He is kind of an affection addict, because very little affection has ever been given to him, so he and his 'guardian angel' Hawk are comfortable hugging and kisssing each other. Hawk is the only thing he holds to belong to him; everything else (his authority, his rooms, his books, even Zensu) is borrowed. And so where Hawk is concerned he is very contradictory. On the one hand he is scared of tying Hawk down, because being inescapably the Prince, he knows what it's like to feel trapped--so he encourages Hawk not to love only him, and wants him to love Lavainth. One the other, he freaks out when Lavainth becomes pregnant, sure that Hawk will no longer have time for him, and that he'll fade into the background. He wants Hawk to be free, but at the same time wants Hawk all to himself, and yet loves Zensu and wants her too--he is selfish, and he knows it, and he hates it.
Those two are the most prominent characters, alongside Sakura and Yoshi, whom I feel guilty in admitting have become less important as time went on (they were originally the main characters). I feel that Rebel Yell is unique in that no one is a minor, flat character. Everyone is layered in some way.
The question that remains is, is it a good enough story? Will people like this, these psychological wanderings? Are they looking for better than the puddle-deep Twilight series and the not-at-all-mentally-focused Harry Potter series? Or are they, as 'hard-hearted careless bastards', satisfied with that and uncomfortable with looking deeper?
These are the kinds of questions that put me off sleep at night.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
What about now?
I have to preface this with the fact that I don't like Daughtry. I don't enjoy their music at all, and they're far too often played on the radio. However, their newest video "What About Now?" pretty much just overturned my thus far mildly happy morning.
You can see it here on Youtube. I posted not long ago about the nature of my generation's music, that we are slowly moving into a more politcally aware mood. Hopefully a little more humanitarianism echoing that of the 1960s and even the 1980s (movements like LiveAid and songs like "Feed the World") will come in with that mood. I enjoy seeing stars like Daughtry and Nickelback ("If Everyone Cared") raise awareness like this.
This is a terrible world we live in. It's terrible but I understand it. Your average person can't do much more than just make ends meet. We as Americans, we as a people, are greatly humanitarian by nature. We shell out millions and millions of dollars a year to help the underprivileged, the starving. And much of that money leaves our country to help children in Africa, et cetera. Of course we have our own causes, like ending suicide and self-mutilation, raising awareness of HIV/AIDS, finding a cure for breast cancer, helping people with cancer, and helping babies who are born premature. As piggish a people as Americans are, you could find no nation greater taken in by human suffering, no one more willing to see the world made a better place. It could possibly be our only redeeming quality as a people.
I link it back to our fairly comfortable history. We have been very lucky as a country. We haven't gone through massive famines and epidemics; we haven't had huge bloody wars on our soil. And I for one am very grateful for that. It's what shapes our humanitarian nature. As I stated in my very first post, we are uncomfortable with the worst of human life, and so it's easy to take us in with humanitarian causes.
We want to save everyone, however misguided we are.
What overturns me is the fact that very little seems to change. No matter how much money and time we give, no matter how many documentaries we make and concerts we hold and walks we take to raise awareness, it's all a drop in the bucket. This is a terrible world that cannot be purged of suffering. It is in the subtle laws of the globe that there will always be people who are unlucky, downtrodden, hungry, sick. We cannot fix it. We cannot save everyone. Even if EVERY American, Brit, Frenchman, Japanese, Australian, Saudi--every single person from every single first-world country in existence--gave to one cause, we could not purge this Earth of hunger, illness, or hatred.
However we can make it better. We cannot solve the problem but we can improve the situation. We have saved millions of lives, improved the quality with small acts. I much like the wasting away of our money to a cause that cannot triumph in the end--money is just a material thing, and it's good to give it up, to keep our materialism in check. I like seeing that money wasted to improve things, instead of not giving at all.
It's a little band-aid, but the wound just festers without it.
You can see it here on Youtube. I posted not long ago about the nature of my generation's music, that we are slowly moving into a more politcally aware mood. Hopefully a little more humanitarianism echoing that of the 1960s and even the 1980s (movements like LiveAid and songs like "Feed the World") will come in with that mood. I enjoy seeing stars like Daughtry and Nickelback ("If Everyone Cared") raise awareness like this.
This is a terrible world we live in. It's terrible but I understand it. Your average person can't do much more than just make ends meet. We as Americans, we as a people, are greatly humanitarian by nature. We shell out millions and millions of dollars a year to help the underprivileged, the starving. And much of that money leaves our country to help children in Africa, et cetera. Of course we have our own causes, like ending suicide and self-mutilation, raising awareness of HIV/AIDS, finding a cure for breast cancer, helping people with cancer, and helping babies who are born premature. As piggish a people as Americans are, you could find no nation greater taken in by human suffering, no one more willing to see the world made a better place. It could possibly be our only redeeming quality as a people.
I link it back to our fairly comfortable history. We have been very lucky as a country. We haven't gone through massive famines and epidemics; we haven't had huge bloody wars on our soil. And I for one am very grateful for that. It's what shapes our humanitarian nature. As I stated in my very first post, we are uncomfortable with the worst of human life, and so it's easy to take us in with humanitarian causes.
We want to save everyone, however misguided we are.
What overturns me is the fact that very little seems to change. No matter how much money and time we give, no matter how many documentaries we make and concerts we hold and walks we take to raise awareness, it's all a drop in the bucket. This is a terrible world that cannot be purged of suffering. It is in the subtle laws of the globe that there will always be people who are unlucky, downtrodden, hungry, sick. We cannot fix it. We cannot save everyone. Even if EVERY American, Brit, Frenchman, Japanese, Australian, Saudi--every single person from every single first-world country in existence--gave to one cause, we could not purge this Earth of hunger, illness, or hatred.
However we can make it better. We cannot solve the problem but we can improve the situation. We have saved millions of lives, improved the quality with small acts. I much like the wasting away of our money to a cause that cannot triumph in the end--money is just a material thing, and it's good to give it up, to keep our materialism in check. I like seeing that money wasted to improve things, instead of not giving at all.
It's a little band-aid, but the wound just festers without it.
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