Upper Peninsular Weekend.

Bart?

Eat Your Heart out, Maine.

One with Nature.

Implications.

What are the limits of the things a single person is capable of doing? How do we know of the things that we can accomplish and the things we will only ever glimpse in the rear-view of life? Furthermore, what allows us to accurately assess ourselves without falling victim to the pitfalls of hubris? Human life is an exceedingly insular experience so much so that one can never do better than guess the intentions and thoughts of those around them. Because of this, one stumbles through their days in a gross approximation of what they believe the world around them will be able to tolerate -- how others will assess them. If one cannot properly gauge one's own place in the grand scheme of social consciousness and order, how can they ever make a forward-thinking decision without the larger social contexts that would properly inform them?

Obviously, we all make choices every day. We make them without really thinking about implications. In part, this is likely a mechanism we are trained since a young age to enact subconsciously in order to avoid the confusing and aggravating mental aerobics that result in wordy paragraphs of this nature. Admittedly many of the little choices we make in a given day are of almost nonexistent consequence to anything. What color shirt we choose to wear doesn't really effect the course of our lives in any discernible way. The kinds of decisions that matter are the kind in which it seems most intimidating to confront. Financial decisions and the truly intertwined nature of money in the social context of a human life realistically weigh monumentally. Choice of careers, choice of partners, choice of location and all the logistical and personal ramifications thereof; all of these are so large that they paralyze the logic centers of the brain. Perhaps it is how we react to this phenomenon that defines the paths we choose.

Reaction is key. All the forethought in the world, all the confidence, means nothing if in the end we are unable to act upon it. Some people react to the crushing weight of our own influence on the course of our relatively short lives with ease. They accomplish the goals they need to advance to a state of comfortability within the strictures of social human living. They do this simply because it is the thing to do and it suits the potential possibilities of their lives. Others over analyze (the irony of which does not go overlooked). They let the weight of the realizations freeze them in a perpetual state of unmoving. Some others dislike the idea of adhering to some great and imposing social norm.

The questions posed here are too hard to objectively answer. Everyone needs to choose for themselves -- react. Certain factors can motivate us to change, to envision a better future; the ability to overcome our natural inclinations. In the end, we choose almost without thinking. Our minds are already hard-wired to assess the world in the way we have grown accustomed. Perhaps the real secret to life is to live it. To react and live in the moment. Some would say there is always time to 'stop and smell the flowers', but maybe stopping is the exact opposite of what the nature of time dictates? The limits to our potential are, for the most part, creations of our own designs. Maybe we already have the answers to the questions of decisions and the ways in which they affect our lives. They are already there waiting for us to acknowledge what we already know.

The Accelerating Oblivion Race with no Finish Line.

As I get older the passage of time and the sequence of events that I experience become increasingly perceptively transient. Perhaps it is a symptom of growing older, and maybe it has something to do with the age group of which I am a part. Regardless of the reason, events accelerate more and more and I find myself astounded with how quickly time passes and how trivial the actions of myself and all the people around me seem. All around people live, they get into relationships, they get promoted, they graduate, they move, they achieve and they strive to succeed. Lately all of these endeavors have left me cold in that my mind continually seems to focus on the bigger end goal -- in other words, to what ends do we toil away in our little lives? Do we work towards some benevolent 'greater good'? Are we really furthering humankind by getting a degree and working a 40 hour a week job for the rest of our lives? Is artistic expression of any more value? For every 'Mona Lisa' or 'Sistine Chapel', a thousand thousand artistic expressions will have absolutely zero effect on the rest of the world. Movies are made and given increasing importance, but what does it add? A distraction; a subterfuge to divert attention to the fact that we are all hurtling light speed towards an ambiguous ending?

What's the point?

Perhaps the point is selfish. Maybe life and all of our secret machinations should be geared exclusively towards our own subjective pleasures. Maybe we should travel the world to see everything we can. Maybe we get the degrees so that we have the money to buy all the nice things that we believe we should have to obtain a complete life. Selfishly we can pretty much have it all, or better yet anything that we define 'it all' to be. Maybe. As for me, I find that a subjective existence is perhaps personally rewarding, but ultimately meaningless. As masters of our own destinies, we are in control to the reaches of our own little confined worlds. I can see how that would be enough for some, but personally (and perhaps ironically -- subjectively) it seems hollow. Anyone can be astonishing if they're setting the bar for being it.

If I was being honest, I think I am probably complicating matters far beyond what they should be. Fulfillment is subjective. One man's success is another man's wallowing. In the end, does any of it have meaning beyond the fact that we have satisfied ourselves? Is that enough? I enjoy my life. I do things. I do as many things as I can, but instead of feeling accomplished I wonder if I fill my life with events to ignore the fact that I'm doing it because I can't handle what's left without them.

Life is a series of events chained together to create a personal and unique timeline that ends up defining our existence. What if that series of events are just an unstoppable collection of moments we blindly choose as we miss the fact that time will run out before we ever get close to putting it in perspective? The more we do the faster time ticks away and sooner rather than later we turn around and realize we're just a series of memories that may or may not matter. And by the time we've realized this, isn't it too late to get context? Time is too big and we are too small to ever understand it the way its meant to be. I probably have a lot of life left to live. Still, I can't shake the feeling that the rest of it will play out fairly predictably; universally speaking. I'm racing towards oblivion at the variable speed of time and no matter what I do I can't seem to find how that counts. Is that the point?

A Terrible Night To Have A Curse.

Foggy night. Late night walk. Pictures.

Semester Series: Context and Achievement in Citizen Kane.

Citizen Kane is a lot of things. On one hand, it is a film about one larger-than-life man and his seemingly fantastic life. On another, Citizen Kane is a sterling touchstone of both America at the time of its release and one of the first glimpses of the true and realized potential of cinema. This film attempts to take on the scope of an entire life and put it into the perspective of a single word -- a word which is without context and that propels the exploration deep into territory far more significant than its subject. I'll be the first to admit that I am usually the first to line up to denounce universally heralded works in media. Far too often I feel that Hollywood tradition being what it is, truth often gets lost in the ether. To my genuine surprise I found myself thoroughly entranced by Citizen Kane for a number of reasons; many of which may be emblematic of its legacy and staying power.

Chief among my surprise was the overall look of the film. Welles frames almost every shot in the entire film that it could be a still picture. Each frame is deliberate and filled almost to bursting with details. These very same details are what set this film apart from its contemporaries. The perception of modern generations is that old films were generally more 'theatric'. This is to say that acting was more of a grand melodrama than an acute approximation of real life. In keeping with this trend, movie sets of the time felt more manufactured. A set was indeed a set; meant to give context to location but not become anything more than dressing for a scene. Citizen Kane defies this tradition as every location in every scene has character. The world of this film feels very much real, very much believable. This tactile sense lends a gravity to the film that can't be denied and establishes Citizen Kane as a true departure from the theatrical roots of the art form.

Aiding in its picturesque quality is the lighting. Welles lit the film from an artistic eye. Dramatic and contrasting shadows paint every scene in gritty realism. Actors' faces are not always lit perfectly, and they move across the scene through beams of light cascading from windows or lamps. Still, even though the lighting may lend itself to reality, one cannot shake the sense that every ray is cast with purpose. Every silhouette adds to the frame that, combined with the elaborate settings and locations, demands to be taken in by the eye. Citizen Kane is a film that employs almost every tactical advantage of the form and achieves it with effortless perfection. No one element of this film ever arrests your suspension of disbelief or strains the logical understanding of information. Even while it reaches for both cinematic and technical heights, Citizen Kane never feels like its presuming to be anything more than it is. In essence, each element bolsters the next to simply exist; nothing more.

The above elements would be enough in many cases to justify the lasting impression of the film to modern audiences were it not for the story. In strokes both grand and mundane, this paradox of achievement is in no small part testament to the greatness of this film. By definition, capturing the scope of a human life in the span of a couple of hours is grand enough achievement on its own. To maintain the feeling that said human life is just as real and actual (mundane) as any other is perhaps more crucial. There is no denying that the film pivots and flourishes exclusively from Charles Foster Kane. All at once Kane is equal parts Bruce Wayne and James Bond -- possessing all the reckless excess of those characters while at the same time their tragic flaws and adding an intangible human element. Kane is the quintessential archetype for ordinary man of ordinary means thrust into extraordinary wealth or circumstance. This makes him engrossing and relatable all at once, and it is his gravitas as well as his presence that makes the film work. Indeed, in some ways Citizen Kane isn't even about its titular character. Instead it often chooses to focus on his very effect on those around him in an attempt to better understand his life. This movie is a lot like life in that it is about context. The context of one life in light of itself. The context of the lives of others in contrast to another. Citizen Kane endures because it's simple on a level anyone can understand.

Finally, and many of my classmates have commented on this in their posts, Citizen Kane teaches an important lesson. Charles Kane is a man who could have anything and yet always lacked for substance. There are many scenes illustrating this point in the film, perhaps none more resonant than Leland and Kane's late night discussion on the eve of his losing the race for governor. There, a drunken Leland actualizes the dilemma of Kane's entire life. Kane gives in an attempt to gain, but instead of a monetary gain he wishes for an emotional one. Simply put he wants to be loved and from this he achieves both his greatest successes and his most profound failures. In the end I believe it all winds down to his final words: Rosebud. Kane was a child plucked at an unbelievably young age from his childhood and forced to be scion to a wealth he didn't choose. Rosebud is his childhood sled, but more than that it is his stolen childhood. It is the stolen love of his mother and his family. Rosebud is the unspoken rejection by his mother which in turn is the denial of the most basic thing a person needs -- love. The rest of Kane's life is a pursuit of that lost moment. He fills it with people and gestures and possessions, none of which is able to fill the hole in his being -- a hole that was compensated for by an overbearing selfishness. Not a selfishness born of malice or want, but an unconscious one at a fundamental level.

What I am trying to say is that Citizen Kane in the context of its main character is a story about being human. It lasts because even though it is slightly larger-than-life, it maintains a sentiment everyone lives on a daily basis. This combined with its technical feats make Citizen Kane more than substantial enough to bear lasting study and adoration not just for now, but for times to come. If nothing else, this film is undeniably 'tight'. Tight in the sense that its parts are as good as its whole, and nothing in its narrative is a stretch of the mind. Perhaps this is why it has avoided critical scrutiny and, more importantly, the test of time.

Semester Series: Universality of Characterization in Star Wars.

Star Wars succeeded due to a number of factors. Perhaps the most important of these was characterization, but perhaps not in the way that one would first think of the term. Star Wars was a film that arrived with little fanfare and almost zero expectation. The concept of science fiction, particularly that of space-faring humanoids having intergalactic adventures, was not a new one. Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek had debuted in 1966, almost eleven years prior to the first Star Wars film. It would likely be safe to assume that both the film effect and cinematic climate of the time were not ideally tuned for the film's success. When Star Wars debuted, it defined the 'event' movie. Here was a film that permeated the public consciousness and capitalized on that zeitgeist in an important and pivotal way: merchandising. From novelties to T-shirts but especially action figures, Star Wars was an in-demand property.

I wouldn't go to such lengths to elucidate the success of Star Wars both as a film and as a phenomenon if that success was not predicated by one specific element. Characterization raised Star Wars above the level of any genre movie before it and made something as niche as science fiction acceptable to a wide audience in a way that was unprecedented for the time. George Lucas took what was essentially a simple hero tale and made it flourish thanks in large part to his ability to flesh out a world of believable locales and peoples. Science fiction before the release of Star Wars was generally very clean and free of imperfection. What Lucas so brilliantly did was inject 'character' into the world he created. Things were dirty and used. Luke tells his Uncle Owen that the robots (droids) they were purchasing were falling apart. The Millenium Falcon, perhaps the most beloved and well-known fictional space vessel, is bluntly referred to as 'a piece of junk'. Far from degrading the appeal of these elements, viewers felt drawn to them. We can all relate to a car that doesn't run like we wish it did, and so the Millenium Falcon became the beloved junker car everyone couldn't help but champion. This same character was essential in Mos Eisley spaceport. The Cantina scene where Luke runs afoul of a pair of alien criminals feels at once exciting and real in its gritty portrayal. The direct contrast of the comparatively sterile Galactic Empire and their spotless Death Star effectively tells the audience everything they would need to know about the villains without ever uttering a word. Every setting in Star Wars has a history without ever showing it; something that can best be defined as the essence of 'character'.

Of course it would be a misstep to hang all of the successful characterization on the fully realized worlds alone. George Lucas populated his fantastical space-action film with relatable characters that served not only as capable protagonists, but at the same time as cipher personalities on which the viewer can project their own aspirations for adventure. Luke Skywalker was the young dreamer who imagined greatness, but found himself thrust into circumstances much bigger than one could fathom. Princess Leia was the freedom fighter who believed clearly in a greater cause, but at the same time served as the plucky girl every boy wanted to meet and every girl wanted to be. Perhaps the most effective of characters in all of Star Wars mythology is rogue smuggler Han Solo. Played to affable aplomb by Harrison Ford, Han is arrogant when he needs to be; serious when it is called for; funny at exactly the right time; and even a murderer when it serves his interests (Han shot first). Together these characters made the film what it was. The plot and theme of Star Wars were nothing that was not already present in old adventure serials like Flash Gordon or the like, but what made it stand out was a trio of young heroes who the audience cared about and wanted to succeed -- a sentiment that wouldn't exist had the characterization been lacking.

To a large extent, the success or failure of the many blockbusters to follow since the release of Star Wars has hinged on the strength of its character. It does not take much to think of many films that, despite their impressive visual effects and epic scale, have failed to stir audiences in the least. To make a blanket statement one way or the other commenting on the query of whether films that have followed Star Wars are better or worse at developing character in lieu of a bombastic action setting would be erroneous. The case for 'staying power' can always be cited; that many films come and go, but few are as known or remembered as Star Wars. The truth, I think, is actually better served when the success of characterization in a film is measured in how effectively it achieves the effortless balance of spectacle with the intimate believability of its characters and settings. To put a label on that unidentifiable something, a film needs 'heart'. Without 'heart' a movie feels lifeless, and the audience recognizes it and removes themselves from it. Perhaps by identifying what specifically made Star Wars 'work' in and of itself, we are better able to understand how and why the blockbusters that have been released since have succeeded and/or failed.

Semester Series: The Entertainment of 'Unreality' Television.

I think humans have an expectation in life that the things that we see and that we are told have a weight of truth to them. This is evidenced by the fact that no one generally likes to be lied to. As a matter of understanding the world around us, we need to be trusting to a certain degree or else we would live our lives in constant anguish over whether or not the world around us was 'real'. In a sense, the assumption that certain things are facts is what makes life tangible. Without this, we enter an entirely complex realm in which questions of what constitutes 'reality' begin to become overwhelming.

This week I watched Cake Boss. I have seen the show a few times before and I have enjoyed it because it is about food -- specifically sweets. I am a person who absolutely loves to eat, so my attachment to this show lies entirely in imagining what the different cakes would taste like. My interest in their aesthetic merits is extremely low, though on an artistic level it is often hard to deny the level of skill required to create them. Cake Boss follows a similar format to most reality television in that it revolves around the day to day lives of very human characters and the various 'drama' that unfolds in the process of doing so. Interviews sprinkle the half hour show with insights into the thought process of the various people being followed, and by the end of the half hour everything is more or less resolved. Cake Boss follows the idea of a specific subject each week, be it creating fancy cakes in a limited amount of time for a big wedding magazine, or an evil plant cake for a museum fundraiser. Layered throughout the footage showing how such cakes are made are personal arguments, worries, and foibles that at once make the show engaging and worth watching outside of basic cake assembly.

This week's topic questions the reality of 'reality' television and asks whether this possible subterfuge would in any way affect one's enjoyment. From a personal standpoint, the fact that Cake Boss probably has certain edits that play with the timeline of events or scripted lines that make interview sessions seem much more practiced does not really bother me. As I stated above, my interest lies predominantly in my own fascination with sweets. That's my own reason, but it stands to note that reality television changes its value dependent on what a viewer expects out of it. On a show like Cake Boss, I cannot imagine there are many who would be disheartened to find that much of the show is fabricated in such a way as to extract the most drama and intrigue. Understandably, were the show plainly about the process of making gorgeous cakes the viewing audience would not have much reason to return week after week. On the flip side of this, many reality television shows' intrigue hinges heavily on the fact that what we are seeing on the screen is real and indeed so bizarre that we cannot help but watch (the old 'can't look away from a car accident' idea). As I said when I began this post, humans expect a certain level of truth in the things they perceive in order to in turn trust what they are seeing. In the case of shows such as Cake Boss or Mythbusters or even Dirty Jobs, the realism acts as a buffer for whatever it is the show is actually about -- in these cases cakes, myths and science, and dirty jobs.

The problem that occurs when shows like Rock of Love or The Real Desperate Housewives of... fabricate large portions of its 'narrative' to seem more interesting is that the viewer runs the risk of disconnecting from their interest. For example, if we were to learn that an inflammatory remark said offscreen by a housemate on a dating show was ADR'ed (additional dialogue recording -- essentially recorded later in a studio to be added into the show later) instead of said in the moment; it would remove much of the shock of the fight we were watching. The same goes for moments that happen on camera that were scripted or at least strongly suggested by producers. We watch reality TV mainly because it is morbidly fascinating on some level that fellow humans exist somewhere who could be so uniquely damaged. The entertainment is derived from the fact that we can relate on the basis of being human, but cannot fathom how a human mind could handle or make the decisions that we witness.

Reality TV is more a heightened form of reality that is polished through editing and other various tricks to resemble the real world, but not actually approach anything like it. In this day and age, I think it is pretty universally accepted that most reality TV is garbage. The modern viewer is conditioned to watch with an eye to this and perhaps derives enjoyment from discerning the aspects of the show that aren't fake. In this light, the reality of the 'reality' show does not matter so much as the entertainment is actively derived by the viewer -- we take what we want from it

Semester Series: Familiar Notions in The Sopranos.

Family on The Sopranos is a predominant theme, whether taken in the context of the traditional nuclear family or the idea of 'family' as it pertains to the common perception of the mafia. As discussed in this week's reading, family -- in any sense of the word-- allows for any number of complex connections between characters that in turn enhance the regular goings-on that make up the basic plot of the show. The specific ways in which characters either tangentially or directly connected to the central 'family' of the Sopranos react therefore are catalysts for higher drama. This is to say that by virtue of the unique individuality any one human being possesses by virtue of being an unique mind (a trait shared by any well written human character in any drama), reactions to what would otherwise be knee jerk are instead multiplied across a spectrum of human experience. Essentially what this boils down to is entertainment value. A family, which is to say a group of interconnected people, allows television drama to be much more complex and therefore entertaining.

The concept of family is also beneficial in a case such as The Sopranos in that it is an idea that generally most viewers can connect with on a subconscious level. By virtue of the assumed nuclear family of fathers and mothers and siblings or perhaps even the idea of a group of close relations, the idea of family inherently draws the audience into a level of understanding with the subject matter that does not need to be earned or established. Obviously the conflicts that the Soprano family deals with on a week to week basis are much more grandiose than those that the average television viewer would normally have to contend. Still, because that essential familiar understanding exists in most individuals we as the audience are able to extract certain commentaries and similarities from the proceedings in a meaningful way. It is safe to assume that the turmoil and strife presented in an episode of The Sopranos at least in some way reflects for the American audience an identifiable notion of what it means to be a family. This is to say that perhaps it is correct in saying that the American mindset views the inevitability of familial argument and discourse as par for the happenings of daily life. Sure, the fact that the Soprano family is dealing with murders and intrigue on a federal scale is relatively unrelatable, but the core ideas that these dramatic instances reveal about the way in which family reacts to them are fundamental to the enjoyment of the series. Put simply, Americans are not so fixated on the violence that the characters must endure so much as the relatable through line of emotional understanding that is derived from the knowledge of family.

As I have lightly touched on it above, I'll be brief in my analysis of what it is The Sopranos specifically seeks to say about family. Throughout the course of the narrative of the series, it is clear that family to Tony Soprano is unspokenly important while at the same time a source of great conflict and stress at the same time. On a unconscious level Tony, like almost any member of any family, is beholden to those he considers his family. This responsibility results in the common occurrences of his life becoming increasingly more complex as he must consider the reactions for those around him. At the same time, he struggles with his own interests and individuality in the face of his own sense of responsibility and this is another defining trait of the show. Where is Tony allowed to simply look out for himself, and why is it that against all rational logic he cannot separate himself from his personal bonds? The answer is not concise, suffice it to say that The Sopranos as a whole is a commentary on these very issues. Family is simultaneously the most important element of life decisions while at the same time being the most complex obstacle to simple living. From week to week, the show is about the various pros and cons of being tied to a group of individuals on an intense emotional level and the lengths to which this warps one's psyche. Family is never clearly a good thing or a bad thing in The Sopranos, but it endeavors to inch closer to a revelation about its nature through high drama. This notion is relatable to any viewer and the excitement of watching these moments develop is likely the main draw concerned in guaranteeing returning viewers.

Semester Series: Subversive Femininity in Traditional Media.

The topic of aesthetic choices actively clashing with the progressive feminist ideals of both Clarissa Explains It All and As Told By Ginger seems slightly over-concerned yet still worth exploring. The idea that, by utilizing traditional TV formats (sitcom and cartoon), the central progressive messages of feminism are essentially presented in an impotent "vacuum" is relatively complex. Does the fact that something that is viewed as so forward-thinking and 'new' get glossed over because it is being presented in a way that the casual audience is likely to approach with apathetic familiarity?

Aesthetic choices in both shows are clear from the standpoint of its message. In Clarissa, Melissa Joan Hart's character is often dressed in outlandish but nonetheless 'cool' clothing almost every episode. At once this delivers two messages, the first being that girls do not have to conform to the meek and demure look that has traditionally represented more regressive female assumptions. Secondly, Clarissa's room is very 'rebelliously' decorated with hubcaps and a lizard in a kiddie pool. Her room is an extension of her character description and it also subverts traditional expectations of lacy, pink, and soft stereotypes that would normally crop up in television. On As Told By Ginger, the real defining quality I noted was that Ginger and her friends are unabashedly the popular 'middle class'. They are not the lauded beauties of their grade, but they are not made fun of for being ugly. This is played upon in the episode I watched (1x09, I believe) in that being this 'plain' social creature, Ginger is almost worse off than in one of the two extremes. Both her and her friends are drawn in a very plain way. Their look is almost quirky, but nonetheless very indicative of a 12 year old girl. The advantage to this portrayal both socially and physically serves to underline the message that is directed squarely at girls in the 'real world' -- that even stars of their own shows are sometimes struggling to get by in the social 'middle'. The question here is whether the presentation of these elements is undermined by the fact that they are products of traditional TV molds.

The answer here is complex. On the one hand, it is necessary to cede the point that because there have been innumerable sitcoms and cartoons through the life of TV; the impact of the progressive themes of both shows may be dampened. Viewers who simply tune in to seek entertainment may not realize that they are seeing something that is subversive in a very forward and positive way. Almost on that same token though, the question of presentational methods of feminism arise. To suggest that because the messages are not overtly addressed is a failure on the part of their deliverance seems to ignore the beneficial side effects of subconscious exposure. While in some cases this may certainly not be the case, children who grow up exposed to a steady stream of quality and (most importantly) entertaining female-centric television may indeed be pre-emptively indoctrinated to the pitfalls of misogyny. Is it necessarily a bad thing that a character like Clarissa or Ginger are viewed by the audience as simply 'the main character'? Is it not counter intuitive that in a movement dedicated to equality between genders, that the main concern is that the female element of a TV show is not being singled out effectively? The idea that a whole generation of children can grow up with the notion that females can be intriguing and fascinating protagonists worthy of focus as an afterthought is almost more powerful than a generation wherein that idea is forcibly 'taught'.

Of course, it is certainly plausible that a less overt method of delivery can result in a longer gestation of total equality. The issue here is that the definition of equality may never be universally agreed upon. While it is clear that women in television have made gigantic strides, the real question becomes when is enough enough? When is it finally a non-issue -- something I think is the most effective end result for prominent social movements such as racism and feminism? The answer is relative, so I cannot say specifically. The juxtaposition of the progressive elements of both Clarissa and ATBG with traditional media deliveries seems to me to be an effective method. Seeing that these types of characters (ie: female) can succeed overwhelmingly in what has otherwise been a male dominated format is more powerful than if they succeed in a format created specifically for them. This may be too hyperbolic a comparison, but I think of Native Americans in the United States. Having been marginalized for much of the last century and a half, one could argue that the fact these peoples have been given reservations of land is not a fitting solution to the perceived unfairness of their situation. Conversely then, how is it not viewed half as negatively when the idea that feminism needs its own special form of delivery is offered? Are channels such as Lifetime or Oxygen really progressive, or are they simply a means to marginalize?

In the end, I feel that the problem with feminism today is that there is not a clear monster to slay. It would be unwise to claim that women do not still have to struggle when it comes to certain gender differences, but to attack these as gigantic and warring struggles is ludicrous. Shows like Clarissa and ATBG, in my mind, approach those final barriers in a logical way -- on the traditional turf of the established system; subverting the expectations it holds and positing its power in terms anyone can understand. It may not be the thunderous announcement of equality some would want, but it's quite possibly the best

Semester Series or Why I Haven't Posted in Ages.

Hey there everyone who reads my words! I reckon there's not many of you left after all this time, but here's a sudden and violent influx of material! There's bad news though... It's school work that I've been writing during the semester back at school. All of these writings have to do with movies or TV, which is common for this blog. The catch is that they were all written according to a weekly topic and assigned media.

So yes... it's kind of a bogus way to fluff out blog material. Still, I took my time writing these and they're kind of the best of the best from this class. Anyways, it's summer time which means it's time to start new blog material.

Soon, my fellows. Drawings, pictures, overly wordy words about things. Intellectualism! Hello everyone, I'm alive.

Perceiving Reality and the Many Problems Therein.

Before I begin, perhaps it would be prudent to assert that this whole post is going to be deeply philosophical but not in any studied or formative way. This is to say that I will be dealing with some existential questions in lieu of almost absolutely nothing for the sheer exercise of it. I don't know if I'll find any answers.

Reality and perception are two concepts that work together in a human life to define the very fabric of being. Reality is, by some accounts, that which still exists even when we are not aware of it. This awareness is our perception. Perception is the way in which our minds conceive of the world around us. By these definitions then it would seem that while perception cannot meaningfully exist without reality, the latter notion is nevertheless unaffected by the former. This idea of course proposes the question of the tangibility of reality without perception: is what we perceive not in fact somehow more real than reality? This is a concept that has been explored by numerous minds in innumerable methods for decades. To wit, popular culture has most famously explored the notions of reality versus perception in films such as The Matrix and Inception to name just two. In both of these works, the central ideas form around that which is indisputably 'real' and the 'reality' that our minds create. Both stories involve characters who live in realms that are entirely the construct of the human mind. This is to say that these 'realities' are an illusion; a fact that the characters are fully aware. Yet it must be noted that despite the awareness of illusions in both instances, the characters therein still perform meaningful actions while inhabiting them. There are causes and there are effects -- actions and reactions. This raises the question of further examination: what is it that constitutes reality from fiction?

Reality as we know it is defined by infallible truths or laws. These are always the same no matter the circumstance -- they are constants. Concepts such as the passage of time, forces of gravity, and conservation of matter fall under the purview of 'constant'. These very same ideas can be implemented in the exploration of perceptional reality. Put simply, because these rules cannot be institutionally enforced or checked they invalidate the so-called reality of the construct. Indeed, free from the laws and measures by which we bind the term 'real', the human mind is conceptually without bounds. Consider the fact that dreams often follow the operational guidelines of waking only as a reference point that our conscious minds may more easily process. Now consider the notion that while dreams may operate fundamentally in a synchronous pattern with 'waking reality' (a term that I'll use as a means to footnote the reality we perceive while we are awake that is generally considered to be 'real'), the laws by which it does are not. Concepts such as linear time, singular perception, and physical possibility are liquid or malleable in even the most shallow daydream. The human conscious is so complex that events can take place in an incongruous fashion and still be extrapolated as logical. This is testament to but a fraction of the limitless potential for perception of the human mind. Still, it is widely accepted that the realms of the imaginative unconscious do not a reality make. The key here is the nature of subjectivity.

Subjectivity is the individual perception of an object or concept apart from its true nature independent of whether one perceives it or not. This is of course the very heart of this examination. One could potentially invalidate the idea of perceptional realities by the simple acceptance that outside of that individual perception such realities cannot exist. Essentially by virtue of being perceived they are perceptible. This argument would be extremely potent if not for the fact that 'waking reality' as we know it can paradoxically ever be subjectively perceived. Though it may sound incredibly obvious, by being wholly and inextricably oneself it is therefore impossible to measure objectivity without the bias of subjective perception. While chances are good that if a baseball rolls off a table it will fall to the floor, whether that happens free of our perception can never be completely proven. This is of course indicative of the age-old question: 'if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to see it, does it still make a sound?'.

This is the point in the argument that the proverbial wheels come off and it becomes purely speculative. Take the aforementioned tree in the woods. One imagines that the proof of it falling is illustrated in the discovery of the tree laying on the ground. The tree being on the ground is, for all intents and purposes, objective reality. It is there, it is on the ground, and it is a tree. Now consider the action of the tree falling and the assumed sound it would make. It is known that in order for a tree to fall it must lose stability and be forced by gravity to the ground. A creaking or cracking sound is generally assigned to this action. One knows that trees follow this pattern by observing it in other instances in life. In the case of the tree found fallen in the woods though, one must extrapolate these actions as having happened without any way of knowing if they did. The question becomes whether the falling action and its accompanying sound happen if there is not a perception of it doing so. Does 'reality' as we know it depend on our perception of it? Is it any more real than the processes of a dreaming mind if no one is present to perceive it? By the mere action of perceiving something does one not remove its objectivity?

In the end, the tree as well as its fall are defined as real because it leaves a lasting effect on the world around it -- there is a fallen tree in the middle of the woods. That effect has meaning in context to the things around it. This meaning is perhaps then the most crucial part of defining a reality. That which is real has the capacity to affect meaning to the world and the perceptions surrounding it. If it is meaning that defines the reality of things, is it not possible then to view byproducts of the human mind as such? Concepts such as love and happiness or anger and sadness are no more tangible than the tree falling in the woods that no one saw, and yet these ideas carry with them meaning that implicate far more than the individual perception of a single person. They can be perceived by others and yet still exist in an individual regardless of that outside perception. By this thinking, are things like love and sadness not in part objective? Paradoxically, do they exist if there is not one person to originally and subjectively perceive them? By this logic, is there not room to consider that though no one else may be privy to individual perceptional reality that it may indeed be just as real regardless? Perhaps not in a way that fits concretely into our pedestrian surface-knowledge of 'real', but still in a meaningful and contextual way that would make it thus. The Matrix yields a helpful illustration. In the end of the film, Neo enters the Matrix to save Morpheus and along the way fights Agent Smith and even dies. When recounting the events of the movie, would one not include these acts as having happened? Or would one simply choose to explain that Neo sat in a chair for an hour and had a lucid dream? The Matrix in the film is real because it has meaningful effects on the world outside of it and therefore is considered as such.

There are of course arguments to be made against what I have pondered above, and I could go on at length about the difference between physical realities and conceptual realities. My overarching point is that perhaps reality is more than it seems. Perhaps perception is not unimportant to objective reality; perhaps it is essential. Maybe more of the world is a byproduct of our perceptions than we care to realize. I don't know for sure which school I belong, but I am aware of the power of ideas and thoughts. I can't help but wonder if this power makes them any more real, and if they can be real what's to stop any construction of perception from being so?

Signs of Life, Both Figurative and Literal.

I made the image below and I really liked the way it turned out. And since a heart can be a symbol of life, what better symbology to let everyone who may read this know that I am indeed alive and well in 2011?



So here's to things to come; a promised return to writing at length about the things that cause my synapses to fire faster than the speed of light. Here's looking at you, space cadets!