When we are young we look up to the adults around us with a subconscious certainty that they perceive the world in a way that is inherently clearer than our own. Perhaps, we may have pondered, they are privy to some revelation about the way of things that children are not yet aware. Obviously I can only speak for myself, but I imagine many of us grow up with the expectation of discovering a moment of clarity and understanding of all the lingering questions we've accrued as we aged. Of course this one crystallizing moment rarely appears. The reality of the situation is that we reach a predetermined point in our lives and the title of "adult" is in some cases thrust upon us, leaving us no wiser and no more aware of the complexities of living than we were before. If being an adult subverts our lifelong expectations, how then do we define "adulthood" not just for ourselves but as a substantial and integral part of our lives?
It stands to reason that because the aforementioned expectations of becoming an "adult" can obviously vary from individual to individual, that the notion of being adult would manifest differently for everyone. The real question becomes what it is that we inevitably define as the aspects of ourselves that allow us to identify as "grown up"? One can imagine many things that would fit this purview, from the completion of our organizational education to the birth of our first child -- the list is vast but perhaps categorically symmetrical to the taking on of greater responsibility in the structure of civilization. Does this answer the question then? Are we adults in as much of the amount of responsibility we find ourselves tasked? Perhaps partially. While this fulfills to a degree the functional aspect of adulthood; the "omnipotent" nature we perceived as children needs to be reconciled to reality. It's fair to assume that aging and, congruently, being an adult bring with them the facets of greater knowledge in a general sense. Therefore perhaps it is proper to define "adulthood" as the sum total of our lifetime of experiences; be they emotional, practical or otherwise.
Using our 'experiences' to measure the proximity to being grown up is inherently a tricky proposition. Experience is, both transcendentally and practically, by nature a largely subjective thing. The weight, meaning, and amount of any given experience(s) will vary wildly depending on the individual and their unique perceptions. It follows then that adulthood itself is equally as nebulous in terms of explanation. Legally, of course, being an adult is a simple matter of time and/or age, but as a state of being is it not much more intangible? This entire writing thus far has gone to great lengths to elucidate the delusive nature of adulthood, so how then do we ever know that we are indeed adults?
To me the answer is choice. Adulthood is a title we either consciously assign to ourselves, or on some level we resign ourselves to being -- sometimes without even realizing we have. If indeed adulthood is a resultant of a choice, then by nature it is distinctly unlike being a child or adolescent. As children, we are thus by virtue of the fact we are physically small; incapable of taking care of ourselves; dependent. These are predominantly irreversible truths. As adolescents we are defined by our transient states. We are no longer children, yet we have not yet made the choice to be whatever comes next. Being an adult is the perpetual 'whatever comes next' -- a state so personally illusory that it proves hard to define. We are adults for the majority of our lives and yet we are as such for no other reason than we are not immediately anything else. This is precisely the cause of the wealth of misperceptions about adulthood when we are young: a fundamental lack of understanding as to the very nature of what it means to consider oneself "adult". Adulthood then is a personal representation for every individual the understanding and acceptance of their own metaphysical 'experiences' and the resulting choice to accept that evaluation as emblematic of one's entire self.
Being an adult is something that ends up being wholly unlike anything we ever expected growing up. Far from being a state in which we have discovered all the answers to life, it is more a sense of facing the world in acknowledgement of everything we've done before. Many struggle with the idea that they may be adults, and it is perfectly understandable to do so. Choosing to be an adult is not only an intense assessment of self, but the final affirmation of living in answer to oneself exclusively -- a realization that is in no small part daunting and enormous.
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Time Turned Fragile (Unfinished)
"There come stretches of life when otherwise substantial amounts of time by any discerning account pass by imperceptibly fast as relative to our own experience. Essentially, if you are not stopping to smell the proverbial flowers time has a habit of accelerating around you without your notice. Lately, I have found myself victim to this occurrence more often than I'd like, but enough to pique my curiosities about the subject. Firstly, time as I see it is the unceasing and inevitable passage of events in a linear, forward-moving sequence that defines the progression of life. I think it's important to make note of the fact that time without a focal point does not exist; that is to say that without the events in which between we call 'time' there would be nothing. As far as I've been concerned in my thinking, without beings capable of defining these events in accordance with their existence the concept of time is kind of unnecessary. Time is important to all of us because we don't have an unlimited supply of it, and thusly we define the progression of our life cycles by moments and how we've utilized the 'time' we've experienced in between.
The most damning trick of time is that very often we will be unaware of it until we stop to reflect on the events that have already occurred. In my own experience, sometimes the urge to live in the moment robs you of the perspective to appreciate moments passed the fleeting present; the 'here and now'. Perception is the key to the way we deal with time as humans. We are at once both aware of the inertial movement of time, while at the same instant we are able to affect our own awareness and appreciation for it through the lengths in which we perceive it."
I wrote this on November 10, 2009 as I was pondering the enormity of time and how quickly it passes. I've always found it fascinating when one can recall an event in time only to realize that though it seems to have happened only a short while ago, the truth is that a considerable time period has elapsed. The mere fact that I wrote this nine months ago is boggling enough in and of itself.
I guess I wanted to release this article in an unfinished state. I have a number of unfinished pieces sitting on my computer, and while I may never post some, I felt the core of my argument was pretty solid in what I had already written considering time. Time is something someone like me in my early twenties has tons of, and yet it never feels like there is enough.
The most damning thing about time can be summed up by this quote from an unknown source:
“Time is the cruelest teacher; first she gives the test, then teaches the lesson.”
Time is something we can never cheat. We can never outrun it or produce more of it. We can regret how we spent it, but we cannot undo that which is done. All we can do is try with our very souls to do with our time all that we can so that in a moment of reckoning far in our futures we will not have the misfortune of looking back in frustration, but in a triumph of the purest human experience.
If time makes fools of us all, then perhaps we should endeavor all of us to be foolish on our own terms when that moment comes.
The most damning trick of time is that very often we will be unaware of it until we stop to reflect on the events that have already occurred. In my own experience, sometimes the urge to live in the moment robs you of the perspective to appreciate moments passed the fleeting present; the 'here and now'. Perception is the key to the way we deal with time as humans. We are at once both aware of the inertial movement of time, while at the same instant we are able to affect our own awareness and appreciation for it through the lengths in which we perceive it."
I wrote this on November 10, 2009 as I was pondering the enormity of time and how quickly it passes. I've always found it fascinating when one can recall an event in time only to realize that though it seems to have happened only a short while ago, the truth is that a considerable time period has elapsed. The mere fact that I wrote this nine months ago is boggling enough in and of itself.
I guess I wanted to release this article in an unfinished state. I have a number of unfinished pieces sitting on my computer, and while I may never post some, I felt the core of my argument was pretty solid in what I had already written considering time. Time is something someone like me in my early twenties has tons of, and yet it never feels like there is enough.
The most damning thing about time can be summed up by this quote from an unknown source:
“Time is the cruelest teacher; first she gives the test, then teaches the lesson.”
Time is something we can never cheat. We can never outrun it or produce more of it. We can regret how we spent it, but we cannot undo that which is done. All we can do is try with our very souls to do with our time all that we can so that in a moment of reckoning far in our futures we will not have the misfortune of looking back in frustration, but in a triumph of the purest human experience.
If time makes fools of us all, then perhaps we should endeavor all of us to be foolish on our own terms when that moment comes.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Growing Up Toy Story: A Review
Let's get some perspective here shall we? Toy Story came out in 1995. At the time I was only nine years old. From a young age I was bred to be a quite the fan of all things Disney. Toy Story was a brought to me by Disney. The film also happened to be about a young lad most likely not much younger than myself and his relationship with his collection of play things. The idea that toys have a life of their own wasn't a foreign one to me, even at age nine. My younger brother and I often fantasized about the lives our toys had when we were not present. And toys did we have. We were the kind of kids who amassed such a variety of toys that they filled to the brim a giant wooden toybox. We must also take into consideration that I may or may not be the most sentimental human being alive. So much is my nostalgia to even the most insignificant piece of memorabilia that the majority of my childhood toys still reside somewhere packed away among the boxes and boxes of junk my family has squirreled away over the years. I'm a sentimental packrat.
So what did this all mean to me upon seeing that first delightful film about toys and their lives? Not a thing. If I am honest with myself, I just loved the movie because it was great. There was adventure and a relatable through line. Indeed, Toy Story went on to be one of the most watched VHS tapes my brother and I owned. 'Most watched' isn't an exaggerated term here either. For weeks on end, it was our habit to watch the same movie EVERY night before we went to bed. For those of you who have known me a long time and know my tendency to be late to everything; this was one of the early reasons for my oversleeping. I had the Toy Story toys from Burger King, I had the store bought versions -- I even bought the special cloth version of Woody hoping he'd be something like his movie counterpart. It never was. We played the video game on Genesis to completion and we recreated scenes from the film as best we could using our heroic proxies. The sheer impact of Toy Story on my life is understated but concrete. From that day forth the company Pixar was forever synonymous with Toy Story.
Such was my loyalty to this monumental film that I have not to this day ever seen A Bug's Life. Hearing that the company that produced such a beloved film had betrayed my trust as well as that of Buzz and Woody, I subconsciously decided I would never partake in the blasphemy of it all. And then they won me back with Toy Story 2 in 1999. I was thirteen now and, like Andy, I was starting to outgrow the need to open the toybox or melt Green Army men behind the garage at our apartment complex. Still though, times would call and I'd find myself prone to childlike whimsy. Toy Story 2 was wonderful. It made me feel guilty all over again for the gradual unuse my toys started to see, and for a long while I was terrified that the plight of the toys in the movie echoed that of my own toys. Toy Story 2 was a natural thing in my life as by this time Toy Story had already become ingrained in my subconscious. Seeing it was about as common sense as breathing. The wonderful part about this sequel was that it ended on a note of finality. Woody and Buzz have come to terms with the fact that, indeed, one day Andy will outgrow his use for them as all boys do, but all along the way they will be there for him. It was touching and it was hopeful. I think that on some level I was unaware, this is the very reason I was finally able to accept Pixar's next film Monster's Inc.. The story of Woody, Buzz and the gang was over insofar as it could be, and I could move on. I'll admit I never saw Monster's Inc. or Finding Nemo in theaters as I was still mildly uninterested in any Pixar movie that wasn't a Toy Story film, but with time I have gone back and they are both wonderful favorites of mine.
And then, like Andy undoubtedly did, I grew up. Growing up is never something you do on purpose; especially if you're a boy. You wake up every day and one morning eleven years later you look back and all of those things that were so important to you have been replaced with new things. New interests and new entertainments. High school gave way to college. I got a job. My family moved. The toy box was stored away in a garage. I made friends. I learned to drive. I got in trouble. I made mistakes. I got a job. I moved away from home. I lost friends I wish I hadn't. I started paying bills. I took on responsibilities. And suddenly that little boy who I was sure I still was was gone. This realization gave way to the melancholy that a time in my life had come and gone without me even knowing, and it was time to move on to whatever was next. This last Friday I saw Toy Story 3.
Toy Story 3 finds Andy all grown up and headed for college. Woody, Buzz, and the remnants of a once glorious collection of toys sit solemnly day in and day out inside a toy chest. By all accounts they haven't been given a second glance in years. Confronted with the decision to either throw away his old toys or store them away in an attic, Andy chooses to take Woody along and store away Buzz and the rest. A mix-up causes the attic-bound toys to almost find themselves garbage-bound, when through a daring set of actions instead wind up being donated to a nearby daycare. The story is the least engrossing part of Toy Story 3. This is not to say that it lacks imagination or thrill. The sheer amount of creativity that Pixar puts into every tiny nuance of this film is mind boggling. The places and adventures the toys have in this film trump in scale and in spectacle almost everything the previous two films offered. The humor is strongly in tact throughout, and watching this movie feels just like going home. This is to say nothing in this movie feels like it's forcefully recreating the magic of the first films. Though every viewer will likely have an idea of where the chips will fall by film's end, the story is no less suspenseful or enjoyable for it.
Instead, the treasure of Toy Story 3 lies in its heart. While I know that any mildly well-adjusted child will enjoy the hijinks at play in this film, I can't help shaking the feeling that Toy Story 3 was made for boys like me. The boys who first took that adventure with Woody when they were nine and had become young men in the time since. Obviously, the experiences and growing up Andy has done are not detailed and I believe that's because all of us are Andy now. There is a very specific age group of my peers that grew up with these three movies, and this third in particular speaks to us as we look back on our long lost childhoods one last time. Toy Story 3 is a story about many things. It's a story about how important our childhood is to us. It's about growing up and what that means. It's about loyalty and how you treat those around you. It's about the crushing sadness of having to let go as well as the realization that it's okay to do so because those memories are never gone from us. Toy Story 3 tells the people like me in the audience that we haven't lost that little boy we were. It tells us that somewhere deep inside the experience of childhood guided us to where we are now, and that true friends never really leave us. Through the eyes of the toys we learn about what it means to be loyal and to never give up on those who are closest to us. We learn that friendship will get us through virtually anything, and we learn how to say goodbye.
Toy Story 3 is just a movie, but somehow to me it's meant so much more. The three Toy Story films stand as a mirror of my growing up. Toy Story 3 marks the end of my childhood in a way. It's an acknowledgment of my progress in life and a reminder of all of the new things I have ahead of me without ever compromising the importance of my past. It's hard to explain to some people what a movie like this is for me, and I imagine there is only a limited subset of people who will ever fully grasp this film in a manner similar to my own. I may not have realized it along the way, but the Toy Story franchise has taught me lessons all throughout my life. It was with a certain kind of joyful sadness that I found myself in the theater choked up to the point of tears during the final fifteen minutes of this film as I realized that Toy Story was teaching me my final lesson. I'm all grown up now and Buzz and Woody and all the rest don't mean to me what they once did, but they like the franchise itself will always be a part of me in a way. If this sounds like high praise for a movie; realize that it very much is the highest praise I can give. Toy Story 3 ended up besting even my loftiest expectations and because of that and the unique place it holds in my life it stands as not only the best Pixar film ever released, but one of the best films I have seen in a very long time. Bring a box of tissues, an attitude for a good laugh, and the little kid who's right where you left him... Toy Story 3 is worth every moment.
So what did this all mean to me upon seeing that first delightful film about toys and their lives? Not a thing. If I am honest with myself, I just loved the movie because it was great. There was adventure and a relatable through line. Indeed, Toy Story went on to be one of the most watched VHS tapes my brother and I owned. 'Most watched' isn't an exaggerated term here either. For weeks on end, it was our habit to watch the same movie EVERY night before we went to bed. For those of you who have known me a long time and know my tendency to be late to everything; this was one of the early reasons for my oversleeping. I had the Toy Story toys from Burger King, I had the store bought versions -- I even bought the special cloth version of Woody hoping he'd be something like his movie counterpart. It never was. We played the video game on Genesis to completion and we recreated scenes from the film as best we could using our heroic proxies. The sheer impact of Toy Story on my life is understated but concrete. From that day forth the company Pixar was forever synonymous with Toy Story.
Such was my loyalty to this monumental film that I have not to this day ever seen A Bug's Life. Hearing that the company that produced such a beloved film had betrayed my trust as well as that of Buzz and Woody, I subconsciously decided I would never partake in the blasphemy of it all. And then they won me back with Toy Story 2 in 1999. I was thirteen now and, like Andy, I was starting to outgrow the need to open the toybox or melt Green Army men behind the garage at our apartment complex. Still though, times would call and I'd find myself prone to childlike whimsy. Toy Story 2 was wonderful. It made me feel guilty all over again for the gradual unuse my toys started to see, and for a long while I was terrified that the plight of the toys in the movie echoed that of my own toys. Toy Story 2 was a natural thing in my life as by this time Toy Story had already become ingrained in my subconscious. Seeing it was about as common sense as breathing. The wonderful part about this sequel was that it ended on a note of finality. Woody and Buzz have come to terms with the fact that, indeed, one day Andy will outgrow his use for them as all boys do, but all along the way they will be there for him. It was touching and it was hopeful. I think that on some level I was unaware, this is the very reason I was finally able to accept Pixar's next film Monster's Inc.. The story of Woody, Buzz and the gang was over insofar as it could be, and I could move on. I'll admit I never saw Monster's Inc. or Finding Nemo in theaters as I was still mildly uninterested in any Pixar movie that wasn't a Toy Story film, but with time I have gone back and they are both wonderful favorites of mine.
And then, like Andy undoubtedly did, I grew up. Growing up is never something you do on purpose; especially if you're a boy. You wake up every day and one morning eleven years later you look back and all of those things that were so important to you have been replaced with new things. New interests and new entertainments. High school gave way to college. I got a job. My family moved. The toy box was stored away in a garage. I made friends. I learned to drive. I got in trouble. I made mistakes. I got a job. I moved away from home. I lost friends I wish I hadn't. I started paying bills. I took on responsibilities. And suddenly that little boy who I was sure I still was was gone. This realization gave way to the melancholy that a time in my life had come and gone without me even knowing, and it was time to move on to whatever was next. This last Friday I saw Toy Story 3.
Toy Story 3 finds Andy all grown up and headed for college. Woody, Buzz, and the remnants of a once glorious collection of toys sit solemnly day in and day out inside a toy chest. By all accounts they haven't been given a second glance in years. Confronted with the decision to either throw away his old toys or store them away in an attic, Andy chooses to take Woody along and store away Buzz and the rest. A mix-up causes the attic-bound toys to almost find themselves garbage-bound, when through a daring set of actions instead wind up being donated to a nearby daycare. The story is the least engrossing part of Toy Story 3. This is not to say that it lacks imagination or thrill. The sheer amount of creativity that Pixar puts into every tiny nuance of this film is mind boggling. The places and adventures the toys have in this film trump in scale and in spectacle almost everything the previous two films offered. The humor is strongly in tact throughout, and watching this movie feels just like going home. This is to say nothing in this movie feels like it's forcefully recreating the magic of the first films. Though every viewer will likely have an idea of where the chips will fall by film's end, the story is no less suspenseful or enjoyable for it.
Instead, the treasure of Toy Story 3 lies in its heart. While I know that any mildly well-adjusted child will enjoy the hijinks at play in this film, I can't help shaking the feeling that Toy Story 3 was made for boys like me. The boys who first took that adventure with Woody when they were nine and had become young men in the time since. Obviously, the experiences and growing up Andy has done are not detailed and I believe that's because all of us are Andy now. There is a very specific age group of my peers that grew up with these three movies, and this third in particular speaks to us as we look back on our long lost childhoods one last time. Toy Story 3 is a story about many things. It's a story about how important our childhood is to us. It's about growing up and what that means. It's about loyalty and how you treat those around you. It's about the crushing sadness of having to let go as well as the realization that it's okay to do so because those memories are never gone from us. Toy Story 3 tells the people like me in the audience that we haven't lost that little boy we were. It tells us that somewhere deep inside the experience of childhood guided us to where we are now, and that true friends never really leave us. Through the eyes of the toys we learn about what it means to be loyal and to never give up on those who are closest to us. We learn that friendship will get us through virtually anything, and we learn how to say goodbye.
Toy Story 3 is just a movie, but somehow to me it's meant so much more. The three Toy Story films stand as a mirror of my growing up. Toy Story 3 marks the end of my childhood in a way. It's an acknowledgment of my progress in life and a reminder of all of the new things I have ahead of me without ever compromising the importance of my past. It's hard to explain to some people what a movie like this is for me, and I imagine there is only a limited subset of people who will ever fully grasp this film in a manner similar to my own. I may not have realized it along the way, but the Toy Story franchise has taught me lessons all throughout my life. It was with a certain kind of joyful sadness that I found myself in the theater choked up to the point of tears during the final fifteen minutes of this film as I realized that Toy Story was teaching me my final lesson. I'm all grown up now and Buzz and Woody and all the rest don't mean to me what they once did, but they like the franchise itself will always be a part of me in a way. If this sounds like high praise for a movie; realize that it very much is the highest praise I can give. Toy Story 3 ended up besting even my loftiest expectations and because of that and the unique place it holds in my life it stands as not only the best Pixar film ever released, but one of the best films I have seen in a very long time. Bring a box of tissues, an attitude for a good laugh, and the little kid who's right where you left him... Toy Story 3 is worth every moment.
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