Best Of

Well, after eight months and over 160 posts my "five posts per week" regime has come to an end. I can't say I'm sorry to see it go - towards the end it became increasingly tiresome and I was sorely tempted to break it on quite a number of occasions. This blog is not about to die, but it is going to begin a more sedentary lifestyle. (read: I'll post when I feel like it) Today I'm not going to give you a big philosophical post, but more of a summary of the year; a 'Best Of' list of sorts. Of course, the selection is totally subjective, being composed of some of my favourite posts (one per month) - so if you're unimpressed with these, I can only say that there were plenty more to choose from, and sometimes it was a toss up. Without further ado then, The Top Picks of 2006! Oh, and best wishes for the New Year.

• May: Rise of the Machine
• June: Orange Socks
• July: The Right To Kill
• August: An Old Giant
• September: The King & The Mob
• October: Death of a Language
• November: A Fight To Remember
• December: The Great Aunt

Enjoy!

Great (Or Small) Expectations

We had some friends around for dinner tonight - which occasioned some of the best entertainment I've been treated to in years. Post-meal conversation (led by the two fathers) turned to the animated recounting of childhood exploits. Such as, while riding the monorail at a zoo, dropping hard sweets on the heads of humans and animals alike. Or biffing Jaffas at peoples backs when the lights went down at the cinema. Or creating havoc with an old fashioned laser. Their past rambunctious mischievousness was matched only by their present creativity in suggesting ways that they could do it better. I see little of that spirit in the children of today. And that worries me. Granted, it's all fun and games till et cetera but the human race has been lurching along for some time now; kids haven't destroyed it yet. The generally acknowledged solution was a good smack when they went too far, and that was that. Now though, instead of bouncing off the walls of this world with seemingly random energy, children rush home from school to watch TV, surf the net, or play video games. If any friends come over, they just better hope it's multi-player capable. Or what about those ones who have violin lessons after school, dance on Tuesday evenings, a scout meeting on Friday, Saturday soccer practice, and surf cadets all Sunday? But they're being so productive.... Yes - but are they being children? Or mini-adults? Both the slob mode and the high achiever lifestyle are destructive. And most kids now fall into one category or the other. Why? Why the change? Well, I'm not a sociologist, but I will go so far as to say that some of it has to do with the expectations of the parents. If they don't expect their kids to amount to anything, or don't bother to think much about them at all then they'll provide the easiest diversions possible: the sterile, automated world of television (and co). If, on the other hand, they expect their children to become super stars by age nine, a crammed, regimented schedule is the natural place to start. What should really be expected of them is simply what you'd expect from something that's small and slowly becoming larger. It's not difficult, with that in mind, to find sufficient (and appropriate) stimulus for kids. Most of the time, if you give them half a chance, they'll find it themselves.

Offensives

I had an interesting phone conversation this morning. It was one of those Gee, thanks for the present (why the heck did you get me that?) sort of calls. The kind soul had sent me pots, your standard cooking pots, and I had no idea why or what for. Naturally I wasn't looking forward to making the call. But I figured I could worm my way through the dialogue with my standard set of generalizations, vagaries and appropriate grunts (and still be fairly honest - or at least not tell a big lie). So I dialed the number, started chatting to the person, and then about three seconds into my Thank you for being so thoughtful speech, she burst out laughing. Turns out that these pots had been intended for another Christopher; the mix-up being the work of an overzealous kid who gave them to the first Chris he came across. We both laughed then - it was such a relief not to have to tiptoe over eggshells. A lot of stress could be cut out of our lives if we didn't have the strain of trying not to offend people all the time. I'm not talking about big things; it's all the petty stuff that wears us down. We're always having to consider whether Auntie Margaret is in a huff because we haven't written her a letter (ink and paper, mind) for some time, or what we should say when (female) aquaintances ask How does this look? or whether being absent from this or that function will be taken as a slight. It might seem that there's not much we can do about any of that - telling people not to get offended rarely works. But there is something we can do about the problem as a whole: we can attempt to be a bit more tolerant ourselves. There's only one person you can successfully command to toughen up or let it go - and that's yourself. If you're the only one doing it, at least it's a start. Until everyone else joins you though, keep practising those ever versatile grunts.

If

Perhaps you're wondering why a post didn't turn up last night. On second thoughts, you probably didn't notice. Anyway. It was because I was miserably sick. On Christmas afternoon my throat started to get a bit scratchy; it wasn't that uncomfortable, but I knew what it meant. By evening I was beginning to feel the phlegm build-up. I hardly slept that night and felt horrible the next morning. All yesterday I threw every resource I had at the sickness - rest, water, copious doses of a potent herbal tonic, a whole bulb of garlic - The Works, save antibiotics which I was trying to avoid. Nothing much seemed to happen, though I did have a better sleep last night. I woke this morning (feeling a lot better, though that's often the case early in the day) to find that my mom had booked me an appointment with a local GP. So I went along and (surprise) he prescribed antibiotic drugs to get rid of the infection. So I bought them and have taken them and am swiftly recovering. I wonder now though if things would've taken the same course had I persisted with the natural method as I'd intended to. I'll never know now, I suppose. Things like this happen quite often: I've abandoned one course for another, unsure in the end whether it really made any difference. It's silly to worry about such things, any relevant choices have been frozen in the past, but I can't help it. If I had just persevered, if I hadn't been so hasty, if I'd not made the jump - would anything be different? Lewis' Aslan said "No one is told what would have happened," and it's quite true. There are not, as far as we know, multiple universes in which every possible choice is played out, therefore the reality which we create is the only one which does, or ever will, exist. Anything else is just futile theorizing. Often, on this twisted earth, we do things and make choices that we have cause to question or regret later. That's normal, if a little saddening. But the only question we need ask ourselves is What should I do next time?

Let It Go

It's been a good Christmas. Perhaps not a day I'll remember forever - it was fairly uneventful - but I'm convinced that we forget many of our best times. The things we look back on and laugh about and memorialize in story were usually not very nice at the time, even (occasionally) downright nasty. That's understandable; conflict produces tension and drama and all that stuff we love in a tale. But times of peace, quiet happiness and refreshment (which we seldom recall and almost never recount) provide us with the fuel to keep on muscling through the rest of life. Maybe remembering them is not necessary - they've done all their work already; there is no reason for them to remain. We recall our mistakes (too often, sometimes) to learn from them, but what can we learn from peace? Retrospectively, very little. Some things are not designed to be learned from so much as accepted. That's a hard truth to swallow for ever curious Mankind but we'd better try, because if this is not grasped we'll find ourselves plucking apart flowers to find out what makes them beautiful. The desire to hold things in our hands forever, to be masters of everything we experience, to know why everything exists and how it works, must be reined in. The part of us that we call our mind (our reason and will) cannot file everything away neatly in drawers and label each with its uses. To attempt to do so is not only an exercise in futility; it will also irrevocably damage many of the items we most treasure. It's as foolish as trying to keep a river, because you can feel it flowing away. Leave it. Let it go. Forget, secure in the knowlege that some part of you will keep it forever.

Celebrate

Preparations are well underway now for Christmas. And they jolly well should be. Well, yes, but we've left things a little later this year. That's alright, we're not behind schedule. It's going to be a good Christmas - I can tell by the food that's being gathered. We are going to have a feast of near medieval qualities. Any thought of healthy eating or dieting will be banished into the nether darkness for one day at least. So it should be too. Sometimes I think that we in our modern society have forgotten how to celebrate. We still know how to get smashed and play loud music that no one listens to, but that's a rather poor substitute for the old ways. Celebrations shouldn't be about dulling ourselves out on mega decibels and booze, but neither should they be ascetic. At all. If anyone mentions calories on Christmas, smack them in the head. Just don't tell them I told you to. It's not a time to be frugal either - bless others without counting the cents (make sure, though, that you're giving to them for their sake, not your own). But prudence is required.... Yes, yes. Prudence is a good thing. Heaven knows I'm naturally cautious and habitually prudent. But love is more important. Joy (not happiness) is also more important. So let's get our priorities straight, shall we? Very few people have died from eating their fill of bacon or prawns or cheese or chocolate. Very few have been bankrupted by unselfishly giving generous gifts. Feast with your soul as you do with your body - there should be no room for half measures. You think I'm making too big a deal about it Remember why we commemorate this day? Yes. It is the Christ Mass. We have good cause to celebrate.

Instant

I recieved a record amount of emails today - sixteen just for me, not including the ones I picked up for the family. That's what happens when you start trading online. The problem is that you're expected to respond to all of them quickly. Not like the pre-email days, when a message actually took some time to get from A to B. When you sent a letter, you didn't expect a response for a few days at least - now, if you're a few hours tardy in shooting off a reply the recipient notices. Everyone appears to feel time speeding up on them, and subsequently our methods both of interrelating and living in general are becoming more frantic. Or is it the other way around? I've always wondered why it seems that each year passes more swiftly than the last. Could it be a result of our increasingly "instant" society? We want food now and are given McDonalds. We want entertainment now and are given television. We want health now and are given quack diets and artificial excercise routines. Oh, we've done quite the impressive job of creating an instant world, but does anyone enjoy it? I suppose some do - like an old addict enjoys a hit - all the savour and thrill gone, only the aching need remaining. Instant is killing us almost as fast as crack or heroin, it's true, but that's not the worst of it. It's leaching our glory and greatness away. Yes, Men were great once - imperfectly and twistedly great, but nevertheless they were mortal gods compared to the mean residue that society (created by our choices) has made us. We have worn ourselves out "like butter scraped over too much bread" in panting after piddling trifles. Time is not at fault. It is as constant as it ever was. The blame rests directly on our doorsteps.

Survival

I had a fascinating conversation with my chiropractor yesterday. As conversations do, it had wound its way through several topics until he mentioned an incident in which a stuntman had died while working on a film - a helicopter crashed slightly differently than was planned and the rotor chopped him in two. "At least it would've been instantaneous," I mentioned. "Yeah, as instantaneous as instantaneous is," the chiropractor replied. Seems we take a little while to die, even from the most horrendous injuries. I'd always assumed that stories of peoples lips moving after their head had been guillotined were just urban myths, but it appears that's not so unlikely. Even in a case of decapitation it's thought that the person will live for at least 10-15 seconds before blood pressure is totally lost and the brain ceases to function. A little disturbing, no? Or have you not bothered to imagine what it would be like to gaze at your own lifeless, headless corpse spurting blood towards you? Fortunately it's not likely that you'd be in any pain (extreme shock would take care of that), and vision would be one of the first senses to give out. Life is in the blood, yes, but that blood needs to be reaching the brain - anything else is fairly incidental in the short term. We discovered thousands of years ago that we don't need limbs to survive. Now it seems that we don't need a stomach or heart either, as long as artificial alternatives are provided. Just a brain. Delightful news, I'm sure, for all the utilitarians out there. Finally, a way to strip off all gratuitous excess and sensual experience; only the bare necessary remaining - pure thought. And yes, I agree that only the brain is needful for survival. But the rest is needful for living.

Does Nothing Exist?

I was reading a book today in which one character mentions that something "means less than nothing" to them. They are promptly questioned by the naive protagonist as to how anything could be less than nothing and if it was, wouldn't nothing be something? It was quite deep, considering that this is a book aimed at kids - as I've mentioned before, most childrens fiction is brainless sludge. But it brought up another question, perhaps less easy to answer: does "nothing" exist? The quick solution is no - it is nonexistence, therefore it cannot exist. My original meaning when posing the problem however was closer to Is there anywhere, anytime in which there is not something? Is the term "nothing" just a lazy, weak and semi-meaningless idea that we've dreamed up? It's possible. We've not yet discovered a Void in the classic sci-fi sense of the word, though whether we'd find any such area even if it was out there is far from certain. When we say "nothing" we mean Not very much or Nothing I'm able to perceive with my five senses or Something so insignificant it's not worth mentioning. We hardly ever use it as A dearth of any thing. Because, of course, that doesn't really pop up on our experience radar and is scarcely useful in day to day conversation. Why have such a word, then? Indulgence of a penchant for antonyms, perhaps? Good and evil, light and dark, something and . . . It rolls off the mind, doesn't it? I'm really not sure if a Void is logically impossible (though there has to be some way to figure out . . .) but it certainly falls outside of the Pale of both science and faith - giving us no reason to believe in it whatsoever. As far as we know, then, it's a false and misleading concept; in this light, maybe it would be prudent to wield this idea (and its accompanying word) a little less cavalierly.

Ivory Towers

I spent the whole day today working on storyboarding and shotlisting my upcoming film. My co-producer and I started out on location wandering around the clearing which in which most of the movie will be set. It was valuable to actually be there; several original ideas were sparked by the environment, and quite apart from that, we discovered exactly where we could and couldn't shoot. In the past we've tried to plan out scenes mentally, and it has done some good. But often we found gaping holes in our plans and hypotheses once we were faced with the real world outside of our heads; a problem encountered by many others of greater intelligence. It's quite easy to theorise and devise and plot and plan - but going outside and getting dirty while testing the above? That's hard work. And often disappointing to boot. Most things look nice and pretty while they're fluttering around in our minds, but when dragged into the unmerciful light of day they can metamorphose into something worthy of a nightmare. This, I am convinced, is why the Greeks never ruled the world. Their wise men (most of them) were happy to philosophise and debate and ponder, but they drew the line at actually doing anything. They knew of atoms and electricity but they would not lift a finger to make so much as a wheelbarrow. This is also why we haven't had helicopters and armoured fighting vehicles since the 16th century. The plans were all there, the ideas were mature, but would anyone build the things? No. Whenever philosophy, knowledge or planning is separated from action it becomes crippled and barren. When we isolate our minds and cease to helpfully reference the outside world, decay and death (fast or slow) is inevitable. Perhaps the clichéd 'ivory tower', reviled in word and embraced in deed, is none other than the cloisters of our own skull.

Crusades & Thresholds

Last night I sat in a small pool of hot water, gazing idly at the stars and talking easily with a friend. Conversation flowed intermittantly like trickling rivulets as we soaked our stiff bones and sore muscles. Among the many wandering paths that our speech travelled one theme seemed to rise repeatedly: We have total control - and yet we have none. Let me explain. You cannot set out to defeat things like the degradation of our language, the abandonment of nature and the old ways of life, the increasing self-orientation of society - and expect to stamp them out. You cannot even expect to make a noticeable difference. It would be difficult enough if Mankind were one single entity, and we certainly are not that. These things are far too large, too powerful, they have too much momentum to be squelched by my main force or yours. But. There is something we can do. Though any crusade we launch is inherently doomed to failure, we can defend our thresholds. Forget the abstract concept of "The World". There is little you can do there. You can however choose to crush any of these things in your own life; and if you do, it will indeed be a matter of choice - you can decide whether you prevail or concede defeat. When you have grasped this truth and applied it, then you can fight these battles on other soil - in the hearts and minds of those of those closest to you. This is how any difference will be made, not by straining and striving to cure the maladies of creation. This is how any small victory or effective stand will be accomplished. Anything else will merely wear you out. I'm reminded of a wise maxim I once read: For peace of mind, resign as General Manager of the Universe.

The Great Aunt

I was discussing anthems with my mom just now, and the fact surfaced that every single national anthem refers to war. There's not one exception. Somewhat telling, is it not? Strife between nations dominates our history books; our records drip blood. It's sad, but not very odd. You can see the patterns emerging in the nursery. For thousands of year it's been the same - but now a solution has been found. Or so we have been informed. It is none other than the great United Nations. An international body that promotes peace and condemns conflict. And it really does quite a good job, considering the tasks it has given itself; the only problem is that the goals are perhaps a little flawed. The UN promotes peace with an almost insane fervour - but most reasonable people (the sort they're targeting, one assumes) have already figured out that peace is a pretty good idea. They are most vociferous and nondiscriminatory (indeed, they even refrain from discriminating between sense and idiocy) in their condemnation of conflict - but, as many parents have discovered, repeating Naughty boy! in a stern voice doesn't really cut it. The whole situation is not too far from a 50's farce in which the town busybody gets elected mayor. I keep waiting for someone to burst out laughing and then apologise for their dumb sense of humour. There is, however, no hint that anyone finds it funny at all. Maybe expecting a full realisation of their own ineptitude is a little much to ask, but I hope one day that they'll wake up and discover that Earth really doesn't need a overblown Great Aunt refereeing our fights.

Dying Men

Have you ever, while sitting  quite still or perhaps engaged in some mindless manual task, felt life seeping out of your body? I have, regularly. It's a curious sensation. Like sand flowing from a holed hessian sack, or the last dark sluggish blood draining from a long ruptured artery. The sand scatters back into the beach and Earth opens its mouths to suck the blood away. They are both lost; there is no recovering them. No second chances. It sobers every time I experience this. I forget so quickly, you see - I can read All flesh is grass and agree completely, then close the book, walk out the door and think that I'll live forever. Or if not forever, at least a very very long time. Memoryless fool. Oh yes, I believe in an afterlife, but doesn't that make it more significant, not less? If death really was The End, then life (or at least what was done with it) would matter little. But if we depart this world for another in which we are to spend eternity (think about that word, don't just glaze over it) then I can only guess that this dimension is a testing ground. One which will lay the foundation for our endless sojourn in the next world. If decisions we make now will continue to effect us (in one way or another) perpetually then it's probably a good idea to be circumspect about how we use our small share of corporeal existance, no? And it is a small share, as I've said before. I don't know how we know this - we outlive most animals - but each of us is aware, to whatever extent they will allow, that for us time is short. We don't have much space to achieve great things even when fully concentrated and dedicated. In truth, we are all dying men - let us live like it.

No Fear

I read an article in a magazine not long ago about the things we fear and why we fear them. For example, many more people are afraid of flying than of driving a car - in spite of the fact that automotive accidents are one of the most common causes of death, and airplane disasters one of the least. Spiders vs. Crossing the Road . . . etc. Our fear instinct obviously has a few quirks in it that don't quite line up with the real world. It's kept us alive this far, but it does occasionally play games with us. Oh yes, it messes with our heads sometimes, but would we really want it to go away? Nobody enjoys it when it kicks in (except maybe horror fans, and only then in a controlled environment). Fair enough. But it saves our bacon regularly by providing a powerful deterrent - in other words, it hinders us from acting stupidly. What would a person with no fear look like? Dead, I suspect. Aside from that, though: how would they act? What would they say? Where would they go? Would you be able to pick them out in a crowd? Ultimately unanswerable questions, I suppose, as we have no specimen to examine. It is interesting to ponder them though, from our fear-bound state. It almost makes me envious to think of someone like that, dangerous (and short) as I know their life would be. Because they would have no boundaries, no limits, no "prudent" voice saying You'll regret it. All counsels and considerations would be stripped away, leaving only the naked moment and choice. And then that bright unselfconcious flame would be snuffed - but I ask you: would it not be worth it?

A Gloomy Affair

My search for a video camera goes on. I was watching one particular camera for sale on the auction site TradeMe - it was just under my limit. I hoped that when it came to the last minute people might forget about it and I'd be able to nab it while still staying within my budget. Nope. Seems someone else had the same idea as me and a slightly higher price limit. But what could I have done? Just kept going up? I have the money, but I set a limit (with good reason) - should I have ignored it? Maybe I could have got the thing for only a couple hundred dollars more; it was worth almost twice that anyway. Yes, that might have worked - but I would've lost much more than a few extra beans. I would, in fact, have lost a battle to myself. Impulse would have driven reason from the field. As it was, reason won the day - a victory, yes, but as Bilbo Baggins once observed It seems a very gloomy affair. It's never much fun to follow your head in spite of opposing emotions. Pop culture (not very surprisingly) tells us that it is actually wrong (or at least really stupid) to let your mind overrule your "heart" - possibly because if people started doing that, pop culture as we now know it would die. Fast. It lives off people following their feelings. And few resist - it is, after all, the easiest thing to do. How often do we hear I can't be bothered - It felt right - But it makes me happy - I don't feel like doing it . . . ? As far as real life is concerned all that baggage can be kept between you and your shrink. Yes we have emotions, yes they are valid, yes we should acknowledge them - no we should not make decisions based on them. It's landed too many people neck deep in the proverbial. Sorry. That's very plain and cold and horribly unromantic and it pains me to say it but it's true.

Ask, And It Will Be Given...

I went on a scavenger hunt tonight - we had to come back with various photos of this and that, always including at least two team members in the shot. Extra points were given for innovation and creativity, which inevitably led to some interesting moments. Some of our team were occasionally a little hesitant to bowl up to complete strangers and request permission to photograph them (doing weird things, no less), but we all pushed past that and got some really cool shots in the end. In fact it was amazing how willing people were to help out when asked. It's something that I've been ignorant of for years and am only recently coming to realise: if you're nice, many folks will go out of their way (at least a little) to give you a hand. Not everyone will, of course, but far more than I ever expected. I suppose I'd always worked on the assumption that everyone pretty much kept themselves to themselves and couldn't be bothered (why should they?) to aid anyone else. That was the theory I'd lived by, and it affected the way I operated. I never asked anyone for anything unless I knew that I could repay them. Well, for some odd reason, that's not necessarily the way it works in the real world. So now my motto is Well, it never hurts to ask. Oh, I'm not completely reformed - old habits die slow - but the idea (and its consequences) has opened up doors for me that I didn't even know existed. The biggest block for most people to flat out asking for help is plain embarrassment (read: pride). Others however don't want to become bludgers - parasites who are always taking from others. That's a valid concern, but there's a way to make sure you never fall into that trap: when roles are reversed and someone is requesting your help, give them all you can - and don't send a bill.

Littered With Gems

I've just come back home from two full days of doing ADR (re-dubbing) for The Warren. An update (with photos) should be up on the site by Sunday. It was a lot of fun, but there were definitely times when things weren't looking bright and chirpy. Like when we had to redo a line for the eleventh time because someone couldn't get their words right. Or when I was retching after voicing a vicious screaming beast. Or when we were sitting in a room that was tight shut, had probably reached 35 degrees C, and stank of overheated computers and sweat. At no point, though, did I ever think I don't want to be doing this. Maybe I really wish it wasn't happening this way or This hurts - but it never occured to me to want to skip any part of the experience. That's not always the way though. Far too often I live through things wishing that I could be doing something else. It's stupid really, because it doesn't take away from the onerousness of the moment at all, nor does it allow you to enjoy any highlights (small though they may be) that come your way. We're stuck in our current timeline and circumstance - we might as well embrace it. There are people who go through their whole lives striving to be somewhere or something else, and in the end they're disappointed and empty. If they had just concentrated on squeezing every experience for all it's worth they'd realise that their prescribed lot was not barren at all, but littered with gems. They're hard to find sometimes but if we manage to step out of the cloisters of our expectations, a brave new world will present itself.

An Insistant Advisor

I got accepted. Yeah, you read right. And (drumroll) with no interview. Why? I have absolutely no idea. This afternoon I got a call on my cellphone - congratulations, you've been accepted for the South Seas 2007. . . Pretty much out of the blue. Anyone who knows me well is aware that I dread phone interviews; I was massively relieved. And pleased to get accepted. But excited? No, funny enough, not really. I should be, there's no reason for me not to be - and yet I'm not. Feelings often fail to line up with reason. I noted this the other day as well, as I waited to start my interview - I knew the director was a nice guy, I knew I had a good application, I wasn't worried that things would go wrong - but my stomach was still churning, and no amount of mental calisthenics was going to help. For us average peons, "mind over matter" only goes so far. At a certain point our bodies go maverick on us and there's little we can do to keep them in line. It's a wee bit scary at times, if you think about these things - it's roughly analogous to driving a car that occasionally decides to run at whatever speed it feels like. Note, however, that the driver can still choose where to go. That's our one comfort, I suppose. No matter what our body does or what we feel like (are the two really as segregated as some think?) we can still control our choices, though not always exactly how they're worked out. This is the point that humanists (willingly?) miss - the body, though unbelievably strong, does not have the last say. In the big things, the important things, it can only play the part of an (impertinently insistent) advisor.

The Caprice of Chance

More complications cropped up with my South Seas application today. I sent it off almost a week ago now, but when the school director called two days ago to interview me by phone, confusion soon ensued. He kept alluding to how my application was a little "thin" and how he'd prefer something a bit more substantial to present to the selection commitee. Turns out my attached submissions never came through at their end. That considered, the director was being extraordinarily diplomatic. Thin would be an understatement. I re-sent them, then called today to make sure they got there. They had. But apparently no one realised that I still had to be interviewed. I finally got that confusion sorted out - they'll ring me back to confirm a time. I hung up, kneading my forehead in frustration. I don't expect a lot of life. But occasionally I have this fantasy that something will one day happen like it says in the manual. You know, just kind of normally. Needless to say, it has yet to become a reality. It seems (almost) like a universal law. Perhaps it has something to do with Chaos Theory. There are just too many variables to allow for good odds of getting what we want. We really are very self-centered at heart. Every time something becomes complicated or our goals are obstructed we conclude that we are being blocked or foiled. What we never consider is that the same set of circumstances could very well be giving someone else a leg up. We can't expect the odds to run in our favour every time. They don't do that - that's why they're called odds. If we could grasp this fact and embrace it it would give us greater peace of mind, if nothing else. We would also be more likely to watch out for others who are floundering when chance shines our way.

Useful As The Useful

I watched a very interesting film last night - Quentin Tarantino's Hero. Having never sat through a whole martial arts film before, it was fairly new territory for me. I'd always held the genre in a certain amount of contempt, and expected little of this movie - Unrealistic fight scenes cobbled together with a poor excuse for a story was my opinion. I still think that summary is an accurate one, but I know now that it leaves one important characteristic of this film (and its ilk) unsaid: Hero was beautiful. Beauty has been shunned as "old-fashioned" in the West, leaving films like The Lord of the Rings and Finding Neverland few and far between. We consider ourselves more adult, preferring works like Saving Private Ryan, Thirteen and Silence of the Lambs. Beauty is a childs bauble, we say, to be set aside when maturity is reached. It's a lie; deadly and pervasive. You can see its influence in our sprawling concrete cities, in the utilitarian harshness of modern household objects, in our increasingly spartan language. Beauty is as necessary for the welfare of the soul as food is for the body. As Victor Hugo's bishop said The beautiful is as useful as the useful. Perhaps more so. Children know this. But there is no question of "outgrowing" the need for beauty: children must sleep - do we think that one day we will not need to? And I would point out that any line drawn between beauty and reality is deceptive. Men did not create beauty - it was there before they walked the earth, and will always continue to be, though we fail to see it.

Why They Hate You

This afternoon I read a quote made by the late Spike Milligan - Money can't buy friends, but you can get a better class of enemy. It reminded me of the fact that, as yet, "enemy" is an abstract concept for me. Oh, there are people I dislike and there are those who dislike me, but enemy? No. I suppose they are one of those things (like experience and wrinkles) that accumulate as you get older, whether you like it or not. If you could make it through your whole life without gaining one enemy. . . what would that say about you? It's a desirable thing, certainly, but is it a wise goal? What sort of compromises would you have to make, how many opportunities would you have to pass up, which principles would you have to violate? Would it be worth it? Should we even worry about it? No and no. Too many people worry incessantly about how others will respond to their actions, and in doing so lose their own life. They become merely extensions on the lives of everyone they know. Be kind, be thoughtful, be loving - and then do the right thing and follow your own road (in that order) no matter what. No matter who will turn against you, no matter who will blacklist you, no matter who will seek to shoot you down. It will be painful, it will be lonely - but you will know that you are alive and of some worth, and are not just a superfluous meaningless cog in an ailing machine. It is as stupid (and as vain) to try to avoid enemies as attempting to hide from experience. Enemies, whether low class or high, will come. It's out of your hands. What you can decide is why they hate you.

The Art of Cunning

There are times in life when you need something, but aren't able to get it by charm or main force - when you must resort to "sneakiness". Today I came across one of those times. This method of obtaining results is often viewed as dishonourable; sneaky (I saw you cringe) is not a nice word. Very well, I don't really like it either. Let's call it cunning. Our distaste for this (whatever you wish to call it) comes, I believe, from a culture where it has long been customary to blatantly take whatever it is you want. We are but lately "civilised". But, you mean you think we should manipulate people? Erm - yes. When necessary. The question that should be asked is not Should I excercise cunning to achieve a goal? but rather Am I being selfish in the execution of my plan? That's a much more pertinent and easily answered question. Is there anything cowardly, in itself, about using ones intellect to the fullest extent? Of course not. But people still think like the ancient Greeks who scorned the art of archery, because it offered a ranged form of combat. The method is not that important - it's the intent that counts. It's only prudent to use every weapon that we've been gifted with. Wisdom is required of course, especially as the paths of the mind are not so plain as bodily action, but that's no reason to shun cunning. It has raised great men and established great empires. Rome had seige engines, yes, and the tortoise and the ala, but these were merely the tools, not the guiding hands. It was cunning that played foe against foe, retreated when something could be gained by it in the future, and offered peace (at a price) to disadvantaged enemies. No, there is no shame in that. Use arrows, liberally - only be careful, as always, who you shoot them for.

Altering the Planets

It's official (has been for some time now, though few have realised) - there are only eight planets. What happened? Did Pluto spin out of orbit, or was it perhaps sneakily destroyed by some anarchist society? Nothing so spectular. The International Astronomical Union decided to redefine the term "planet". And the Wee One, so recently admitted into the exclusive 'Sol Planetary Club' has once again been cast into the outer darkness. Humans seem to like labeling immutable things and then jimmying with the definitions. I suppose it grants a certain (shallow) power rush. One of these days someone will decide that there's only six continents. At least that would have some sort of logical grounding. We must sort and define - and we will; it's built into our nature. However, we'd do well to remember that in doing so we change nothing. Many see it (if perhaps subconciously) as a source of pride that we are able to say what is a planet and what is merely a large piece of orbital rock. Well, yes we can do that, and the planets have never spoken back (fortunately for us, I suspect). But neither have they deigned to alter their courses or characteristics. They are what they are, and will continue to be long after the fragile breath that once defined them has left our bodies. We are wise after our own fashion; that is our glory. We are also small, frail, and in the face of Natures grandeur, remarkably impotent. This is no shame, but hopefully the realization is sufficient to keep us in our place. For now, at least, we should remember which can really change which.

Fighting Drive

I had a bit of free time earlier today; I contemplated writing my post then - but I looked out the window and saw my brother swordfighting with his friend. There was a brief internal struggle, then blog writing lost. I'm glad it did. For one thing, it did me a bit of good to go outside and do something physical instead of staring at a monitor. But I'm not quite conscientious enough to have done just for that reason. In all honesty I did it because I like whacking people with sticks - as long as it's a fair fight of course. What makes it fun is that you too are in imminent danger of being hit. It's a game, and it has stakes. That's why Laser Tag, for instance, has never had the same appeal for me as BB wars. When people are shooting real little projectiles at you, it's not just about the points. It's about not getting shot because you'll get a jolly big welt if you do. However toned down and tame that is, it does connect with me at a visceral gut level. Why? The adrenaline rush, yes - but I would go so far as to say that we as humans (and particularly as males) are hardwired for conflict. That's not a very politically correct idea, I know. It's supposed to be all forbearance and peace and gentleness. Well, all those things have their place. Perhaps they are even ideal. But in case the PC brigade haven't noticed (and they haven't) we don't live in an ideal world. And no amount of faking it is going to get us there. We were born onto a planet where blood, sweat and, dare I say it, spit is going to get you a lot further than any quantity of tears. Fortunately Someone knew that. That doesn't mean that we automatically rejoice every time we run across a difficulty - too often we just whinge - but there is something in us that, provided we don't squelch or smother it, will come to our aid and give us the energy and drive to fight. There is no shame in that; this instinct never caused a war. Wars (or the need for them) are kindled through greed or pride or insecurity. This drive is, in spite of the impression it gives, a fragile thing and can easily be broken or lost - do not suppress it. Once gone, it can only be regained with much pain.

The Abyss of Perfect

I decided to stop redrafting and fine-tuning my screenplay today. It's one of those choices that born editors like myself have the most difficulty with. After three drafts and countless other minor adjustments it is still not flawless - but it will do. Good may be the enemy of Best, but I know for a fact that Perfect is deadly to Very Good. Perfect is an alluring phantom that you can never touch, always tantalising you while just out of reach. I'm well aware of this, but it's still hard to leave that script alone. Time slides on, however, and any imperfections will have to fend for themselves. I am content - you see, I've learned the hard way in the past. If you wait until everything is "in place" before bringing something into daylight it will invariably wither in the dark. Too many goals have come to an unsung and inglorious demise because their masters were afraid or unwilling to send them out into the real world. When projects and ideas sink into this Sheol-like abyss it is sad enough, but they are not the only victims of this blood-sucking fear of faults. Humans too are subject to the same temptation, and the same fate if they do not resist. It is horrifyingly commonplace - people are waiting for this to fall into place, to get that sorted out, to be sure of the other, before they will go out and be who they know they should be. Striving to be the best you can is all very well, but if you're not actively carrying on in spite of any flaws, all your sweat will be wasted. No, we are not fully ready - got over that? Good. Now we must toil and run and fight with all our strength. And as we do so, the imperfections will begin to be chipped away.

Three Dimensions?

Well, I had a fascinating evening tonight - I met someone who enjoys discussing far out quasi-philosophical conundrums as much as I do. We covered topics as diverse as objective vs. subjective time, universe boundary lines, and the value and significance of phi. But among the myriad enigmas that we probed, one of the most interesting was the issue of dimensions. Not the fancy big type that contains the cosmos and everything (though we talked about those too) but just your line-square-cube type dimensions. It's common knowledge that our existence takes place in three dimensions; we take this fact for granted and can hardly imagine anything else. But what if (I questioned) we were two dimensional beings? A merely mildly engaging speculation until you pause to consider the consequences. If we were two dimensional, for instance, we would be trapped if a circle (or any complete shape) was drawn around us. We would have no height in our world, and therefore wouldn't be able to climb over or burrow under the line. Imagine then (stay with me now) a person, living in a two dimensional world, that was able to operate in three dimensions. Say that this person was imprisoned by his fellows (i.e. they drew a circle around him) - what is he going to do? Just step over the line of course. It wasn't even the slightest difficulty because he was able to make use of another dimension that built on and superceded the other two. Now make a wee mental transition and translate that to us. If someone was able to exist in four dimensions would he really have any problem walking through walls or appearing/disappearing at will? Probably not. You see, people are very quick to label certain accounts as "myths" or even flat false just because the events in them don't line up with their smallminded view of reality. For example, when Jesus came to his disciples after his death, he "appeared" among them (and the entrances were all closed and barred). It's easy to dismiss this as impossible, but all you can truly say is It would be impossible for me. For someone with the power of another dimension at their disposal, it would be as simple as stepping over a line.

When the Dark Comes

I read an article today that listed some of this years best inventions. A wine-tasting robot, a machine for making edible coffee, a shirt that can replicate a hug - all the fripperies of a prosperous, bloated society. And many believe that we will continue to build on and progress from here ad infinitum (at least, until the male Y chromosome dies out around 126,000 AD). Heavens, what a future. But I don't think it will happen. Those clappy-happy optimists that label themselves progressionists have obviously never read any history books. Or none of substance, anyway. If they did happen to attempt this feat, they would begin to notice patterns. An empire rises through hard work, cunning, and good principles. Then when affluence becomes widespread and the morals of the past are no longer respected or considered necessary, the rot sets in. A little while later, the barbarians arrive. They have that virility which the empire surrendered, and consequently make short work of the inebriated, geriatric nation - tearing it apart like wild dogs bringing down a sick wildebeest. A Dark Age ensues. The cycle begins again. Where are we on that timeline now? That's right - we're currently rotting. And the barbarians, while not yet pounding on the door, are beginning to gather. Our petty world of iPods and celebrities and obesity problems will not last forever. One day, perhaps sooner than we expect, it will all come crashing down like the great World Trade Center. Are we ready? No we're not. No nation has ever been ready for the Dark. That's why it overtook them in the first place. But there is another more useful, more pressing question to be asked: Are you ready?

The Value of Ceremony

I was reading Stephen Lawheads Arthur this afternoon. As I came to a particular pivotal section, the point at which Arthur obtains the legendary sword Caliburnus (Malorys Excalibur), the aspect that captured me most wasn't the gaining of the sword (I knew enough King Arthur stories to see that coming a long way off) but the manner in which it was received. The Sword of Britain, which Arthur had drawn out of a stone, was broken in combat. This was discouraging at the very least; a disastrous omen at the outside. Morale (Arthurs and that of his men) began to slump. But Merlin knew of another weapon that he had long foreseen would be taken up by the saviour of Britain. He knew where this sword was, and who kept it - it would not have been difficult for him to fetch it and present it to the young war leader. What he did instead caught my attention. He rode with Arthur to a secluded place nearby where the sword was kept, then told him to hold vigil all night and prepare his soul for the receiving of the sword. In the morning, Merlin brought him to a small boat tied at the edge of a lake and instructed Arthur to pole his way across to an island in the midst of the water - there he would be given the sword. All of this was, pragmatically speaking, patently unnecessary. It's just a sword remarked one character. Not to Arthur replied Merlin. No, it was much more - it was a powerful symbol, and the ceremony with which it was obtained reinforced this. We are losing (have, to a large extent, already lost) meaningful symbols and ceremonies in our society today. I'm well aware that in the past they've been blown out of all proportion and revered in fear and ignorance, but that doesn't mean we should throw them all out. Humans seem to be chronic reactionaries: when they finally realise that they have made an error, they purge every idea within ten leagues of the original mistake. Through this we've lost a valuable dimension in our lives - the physical representation of unseen truths. We live in bodies and often need to experience principles through our senses, rather than by purely cerebral methods. There's nothing wrong or "unspiritual" (in the pejorative sense) about this; any idea that the body is somehow unworthy of absorbing profound concepts is rooted primarily in Gnosticism - shaky ground for secular and theistic philosophers alike. Ceremony has ruled the western world with an iron grip in the past, and is now being aggressively marginalized. Both occurrences are tragedies. We must hang on to this art because if it leaves this earth forever, part of us will die.

A Road To Journey On

I pretty much finished up the third draft of the screenplay for my upcoming film this afternoon. I say "pretty much" because there's still a few bits and pieces that need to be polished and honed, but apart from that it's done. And, thank Heaven, it's a lot better than the second draft. Oh, my writing style hasn't radically improved in space of a few weeks, obviously; persistent editing and thoughtful critique can change (promising) rubbish into gold. But actually, as much as I'm indebted to these factors, I don't think that they're what made the final difference this time. Between the writings of second and third drafts I found something - namely, a path. See, the first two drafts weren't horrible exactly, but all that was going on was a periodically interesting conversation between two people. In a nutshell. So the script kind of meandered its way to an ending, highlighting this and that point but never really putting one foot in front of another. It was an exploratory foray - which is fine. Except. Except, most people (myself included) don't really want to be taken for a vague ramble. They want to go somewhere. They want to see progression and change and development. Anything else is (if prolonged for any appreciable amount of time) quite frankly frustrating. It's not just a writing problem either. For years I felt that, though engaged in interesting jobs and pastimes (well, the pastimes were interesting anyway) I wasn't really going anywhere. What I wanted (and needed) was a path to follow. Something that would transform a walk in the woods into a journey. Having now found it - for the present, at least - it's easier to relax and be content with everyday life, because I can see that I'm going somewhere. The funny thing though, and the encouraging part for those who are still wandering, is that now, looking back, I can see that I always was on the road.

Instruments of Power

I was discussing with my parents this evening how it's possible (and in fact mind-blowingly easy) to manufacture lethal gases and industrial strength explosives with common household ingredients. I won't go into specifics here (I'm sure you can find recipes somewhere else on the net) but most people could gather everything needed for these extremely dangerous cocktails in a few minutes. It's kind of cool to think that these things are at my disposal if I ever need them. And then that thought scares me. How different is that from countries who hoard complex weaponry systems? Okay, some nations need them for self-defense - but how many really need them? Not even a tithe of those who so jealously guard their right to possess these things. It's not a matter of rights - any nation has the right to own just about anything - but rather it's about necessity and motives. Why are these items stockpiled? They aren't beautiful, they don't feed people, they don't create wealth - they do, however, give power. Ah yes. That is their allure. One of the most compelling temptations known to man. Not that power, in itself, is evil - nor does power (contrary to the old adage) always corrupt - but the pursuit of power for its own sake is infallibly destructive. Power (and the instruments that give it) are amoral - they're a sword that cuts both ways. If we cultivate our influence and clout in order to build others up and empower them, then we ourselves are safe. But if we become enamoured of this tool, our souls will begin to surrender themselves to it - in the end, the sword will wield the man.

A Dark Love

Over the past few weeks I've been reading Till We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis' last novel, aloud to my dad. The brilliance of this book lies in the ability of the author to say several things at once while still spinning a compelling story, enabling the reader to slowly burrow through layers and enjoy or learn from every one. If you've not read this excellent book, this is one post you should skip. It would be better that you came at this work with a fresh mind.

One of the facets that caught my particular attention this time through (I've read it once before) was how the central character leeched away the life and joy of those close to her - by loving them. Hers was a strong love, a dominating love, a consuming love. She needed to love, like we need food or air. And when her loved ones removed themselves from her reach, she took any measure necessary to bring them back under her wing. Everthing she did, she did for love. But, ultimately, love of herself. For there was no questioning of whether the loved one might be better off without her, or if she was meddling too much or if her love was truly harming or helping. She did not allow herself to contemplate these things. And she considered herself completely justified. This sort of love is far from uncommon. It's fulfilling to be loved but if you cannot achieve that, loving others selfishly is a kind of substitute. It's a love that hangs over the loved one like a thundercloud; like a black god watching over them for its own gratification. This love professes to give, but in reality it sucks dry. It's like Tolkien's Ungoliant - a monstrous spider that devoured light, then spewed it forth again as material darkness. Of course in reality the effect isn't so graphic, to the casual eye at least. It's not difficult to commit this sin, because it wraps itself in a lovely, even righteous, cloak. But (and this is the main thing) if we don't wish to be decieved, we will not be decieved. The hardest part is not accepting the gift when it comes.

Clinging To Child Time

Finally I have finished everything I can do towards my application. I have one meeting on Monday to sort out my CV; after that it will be off. On to the next task. Life no longer deigns to pause. When I was a child, memorable events, experiences or jobs were like islands rising up out of a calm sea. Those days of loose archipelagos are gone; I walk a land bridge now. There are no gaps. I'm sure I'd be sorry if there were. I am glad, however, that I was eased into this change slowly - it would be a bit of a shock to the system otherwise. Perhaps that's why too many people never do change. They cling on to the scatteredness and unresponsibility of youth long after its time has passed. Maybe they fear that if they once embark on this journey they'll not be able to cry "stop the bus and let me off!" In a way, their fears are well grounded; it is true that once this rollercoaster starts the only way to get off is to jump - not a wise option, nor one that many are comfortable with. But is an inexorable trek such a bad thing? What do we have minds and bodies for, if not to use them towards achieving something? Refreshment is always welcome along the way, but not idleness. Those who strain to stay in child time don't see the waste until it's too late. We don't have the lifeblood of trees or the span of planets or the leisure of immortal gods. We have a small (as I grow older, even now, I begin to percieve how small) handful of days that flick away like marbles carelessly lost. We do not have any time to safely squander. We cannot make up for lost moments later: time works like entropy - you have to take from one thing to give to another. Living small percentage of life isn't good enough. Even if you don't regret it before the end, there may be worse to come. Remember the man who buried his one talent.

Moments

As I came home from work this evening I could smell the scent of cooking. Not of any kind of food in particular, just that mild yet distinctive aroma of warm oil, hot iron and smoke. I went out into back yard to find my dad seasoning our old barbeque and boiling some eggs at the same time. The fire and warmth, with dusk just closing in, gave me a strong, gentle sensation of peace. Such moments are being squeezed out of lives. It's not that the ingredients no longer exist or are becoming scarce - the problem is that we don't find the time to fit them in. These moments are not "productive" as we in the 21st century define the word. Most often they are spent doing almost nothing at all. In spite of this they have great value. For one, they refresh us at some level which a mere holiday or vacation can never reach, because their strength is not in leisure, but stillness. They also present us with the opportunity to think. Most of us do much less of this than we would like to assume. In reality much of our mental activity falls under one of two modes: cruise control or panic stations. But in these moments we are free to explore, to probe, to ponder - under absolutely no pressure. It's on these occasions, also, that true communication can occur. Not that this can't happen in any other time or place - but these times provide a smooth channel when soul reaches to soul. And, perhaps most importantly, they teach us that the really great things in this life (and, I believe, the next) are not won by straining and striving, but are given to us as beautiful and fragile gifts; all we have to decide is whether to cherish them, or to mindlessly throw them away.

Self-Management

This morning I was in a business meeting, trying (alongside a friend) to negotiate ourselves into another video job. The idea that kept rising (do what I could to suppress it) in my mind was This isn't like last time. No, this project, if it goes through, will be very different from our previous gig back in July. Different time schedule, different requirements, different financial situation - different boss. And my first instinct is to grasp at what we had before. After all, our previous job looks much better (in hindsight) than this one does (obviously without hindsight). But that grasping is a fault, and a deadly one at that. Our desire to have again that which is past, instead of gratefully receiving the present has wrecked many lives and destroyed many souls. Why? Because, in effect, it is an attempt to take full control of our destiny and that of those around us. The tragedy is that we too often succeed. While taking control sounds like a noble and idealistic concept, in fact it's the worst type of foolishness. When we wrest our lives out of the great Design we will gain freedom - but only the freedom of a man overboard. He is free to swim where he wishes for a time. But eventually he won't be free to stay afloat. Who do we think we are anyway? We fancy that we're capable of micromanaging our lives. We who have difficulty keeping warm or controlling our mood swings. Ever wondered why money's the root of all kinds of evil? Maybe because it gives us the ability to bring back what we had before, to order things exactly as we wish them, to create a microcosmic universe where all things are comfortable, expected and will unquestioningly bow to self.

Natural Powers

I was reading a book today in which a man learned secrets "which men, in their ignorance, have called magic". The real source of the power was not supernatural at all; it was as natural as gravity or magnetism, though less well known. I often wonder how often events or phenomena that the spiritually-inclined label "supernatural" and the materialistically-minded call "superstition" are in actual fact real but purely natural. Humans are great interpreters and reasoners, but sometimes we reason ourselves into a muddle. Take "ghosts" for instance. Some are adamant that they are in fact the spirits of the departed, and others insist that they are demons out to decieve us. On the other hand we have the school that believes they are nothing more than the result of our delusions. I'm not saying that any of them are necessarily incorrect - but must we either dimiss or supernaturilize everything we don't understand? Electricity would be dealt with in the same way, I suspect, when presented to those who were ignorant of its true causes. What if another, wholly natural, explanation could be made for ghosts (just as an example). Maybe their appearance is the result of inconsistencies or faults in the space/time fabric, allowing us a glimpse of another era or place? But that's silly you say. Oh really? It's a lot easier to call them delusions or demons isn't it? We're comfortable with those ideas. Any natural solution is pushing at the fringes of what we know and have believed, and therefore tends to make us uneasy. We would be fools, though, to shun these theories and avenues of investigation just on account of a little unease. After all, while we cannot harness illusions and would be wise not to attempt to manipulate the supernatural, the powers of nature lie waiting for stewards to take them up. All we have to do is stretch out our hand.

Barren and Cramped

Yesterday, while editing The Warren, I fell to discussing film clichés with the director. As the movie we're making is more than half spoof, it's good to be aware of them so you can exploit each overdone convention to the fullest. One in particular kept cropping up - the use of jumpcuts to increase the intensity of action or to give a disjointed feel. We've incorporated this effect several times, in some instances tastefully and other occasions less so, but each time we had a reason. It occured to me later that though the jumpcut is a far cry from the way we percieve life, it's not so different from the way we remember it. We see an uninterrupted stream of events, but if asked to recall a particular event, day, occasion et cetera, we (if we are paying close attention) will notice that small clips stuck together, rather than smooth continuity, is presented before our minds eye. All pieces of a picture that we regard as insignificant are relegated to oblivion. Perhaps this is why we're such so learners. How many babies do we throw out with our mental bathwater? How much gold is lost, never to be recovered? But we can't help it I hear, that's how we're wired. It's not our fault. That's true; it isn't. But here's my point: we should be very slow to assume that we have a firm grip on the big picture. We may have been there, we may have heard all sides, we may have worked it all out logically - but would we be flawless? I say not. Once information enters us it is tinted, sculpted and interpreted. Realsing this can be a little disquieting for some. They feel that it kills truth, or the need for it. But I don't think it does - the quest for truth shouldn't be abandoned, but the key factor in our search must be humility. Without this vital quality we will fall to existing solely in an isolated, user-defined world that is barren and cramped.

A Fight To Remember

As I write, my sister is rooting through our copious family photo stash. We have hundreds, if not thousands, of the things - the result of a camera happy mother. Because of this I am fully aware of what I looked like at every stage of my childhood, something that certainly would've been lost in the vast inaccessible badlands of my memory. People value family photos highly; many list them as the one thing that they'd save from a house fire. To lose them, they say, would be to lose priceless memories. Hang on a second. Losing memories? Implying that they don't actually remember those events in the first place. Are we capitulating our natural memory capacity in favour of an artificial alternative? As home videos and digital photos proliferate we need to remember less and less - external sources do a better job. Or so we think. Sure, these media duplicate exactly what was there - but do they, in spite of that, really tell a true story? They miss a whole dimension which is as much part of reality as what our eyes see. The feel of our bodies, our thought and impressions, the smells that surrounded us, the emotions that coursed through our veins - all these are stripped away. Vision is paraded, paupered and naked, before us and we call it memory. When writing came to maturity we lost our ability to remember words - now we are, much more tragically, losing our capacity to recall events. We have become reliant on outside sources, but I fear that they will prove a broken reed - an ineffective prop that will injure us as it collapses. Among the many things we must now fight for that we've long taken for granted, the ability to reexperience our past in all its multilayered richness is one of the most vital.

The Price & Prize of Gambling

This afternoon I received some software that I had ordered; an video editing package. I was very anxious to try it out because of the price I'd bought it for. See, I'd got it on an online auction site for about a third of the retail price, so naturally I was a wee bit suspicious. Not enough to prevent me from buying it, obviously, but I knew it was a gamble. Well, I'm happy to report that it's fully functional and totally legit. Phew. I'm not a great gambler by nature (most of my bets are well hedged) but I am learning to take occasional calculated risks. Giving up what you have in exchange for an uncertain chance of gain is a practice that's frowned upon by some and extolled by others but in spite of all opinion the fact remains: we would still be in the Stone Age without it. Safe money will only get you so far. Eventually you will (if you wish to continue advancing) need to put your time, your resources, your reputation or your emotions on the line. If you've been burned in the past or are naturally cautious this will be no easy task. Once bitten, twice shy is a true maxim but If you fall off a horse, get back on is a better one. It's possible, I suppose, to live an entirely safe life - but if this is your chosen route be prepared to sacrifice adventure, beauty, not guaranteed a return. True, sometimes you will lose. Occasionally you will lose badly. No one said there wasn't a cost. But before we get frightened away by the prospect, we must ask ourselves - what are we paying for? Then, taking all that into account, is it worth it? Every individual has to ask and answer those questions for themselves; I can only give an opinion and my own findings. From that standpoint I say it is worth the panic and the pain - not because these things are light matters but because the prize is so magnificent.

Crude Powers

This morning I trawled through several threads on an internet forum I frequent, and searched for pro-level camcorders on amazon.com. In the afternoon I read blog posts and checked emails. And I've just come back from a friends house where he showed me a burgeoning site dedicated to cartoons that respond to viewers feedback. Now I'm blogging. Is technology taking over my life? Well, at the heart, no. But I do admit that I spend far more time at my computer than in the back yard. I regret that, and while I'm not going to make any rash resolutions, I would like to spend more time outside instead of getting dry eyes and bad posture in front of screen. I sometimes wonder if we'll find a way to harmonise technology and nature. You know, like Tolkiens elves. People unthinkingly write off their wonders as magic, but isn't that what the ignorant have always called technology? Read carefully and you will see a different picture emerging. If we could see things from the past, present and future by looking into a bowl of water, or light our dwellings with effervescent trees, that would be a true achievement. Our powers are crude and contrived; more efficient than primitive methods, but far less healthy. I'm not hopeful that we'll even come close to a solution in my lifetime. For one thing many don't think there's any need for it, and also such a fundamental change would have to happen gradually. I believe we will get there eventually though. The utilitartians will have (and are having) their day in the sun, because their way is very effective in the short run. But long term the consequences of departing so far from our natural design will begin to emerge. Even now they are raising their heads. Some say this is indicative of our impending slide into a clinical, robotic dystopia, but I think not. Humans, though fundamentally stupid, are not entirely brainless, and we can usually figure out (if sometimes a bit belatedly) when something is killing us. Though we may be wrong about most things, we tend to get enough right to enable us to take one more step. Not ideal, perhaps, but valuable nonetheless. For in each additional step we're buying ourselves a bit more time - we run from the dark, because if it finally overtakes us, there will be no more learning.

Invisible And Disinterested

Many boys, when they're young, go through a stage when they pull things to bits - it doesn't really matter what it is so long as it's sufficiently complex. I wasn't one of those boys. I figured things were assembled for a reason, and taking stuff to pieces wasn't a logical thing to do. As you've probably guessed, I'm not mechanically minded. Today, however, I was initiated into the mighty ranks of disassemblers - sort of. I spent the vast majority of the day taking apart a script (that I had written) and then putting it together again visually. In other words, I created a shot list. It took a shocking amount of time for a very modest result: the script was only three pages long. At the end of it all I was tired, hungry and mentally spent. Very few of those who've not made a shot list really realise how much work goes into planning a short scene. Everyone notices the general impression that is given, the emotion that is conveyed, the prowess of the actors. But no one thinks about the angle and framing of every shot. And just as well. If the audience was cognizant of all the minutiae of filmmaking method there would be no room left for appreciating the big picture that is, of course, the main thing. The method should not be noticed. Only the result. Some (usually inexperienced) filmmakers can forget or even resent this principle; the result is exhibitionist and personality-oriented work, not made with the highest good of the audience in mind, but rather the kudos of the artist. Many people are quite happy to serve others but most are, even while serving, calculating what they can get out of the service; praise, credit, prestige, comfort. Charity (both word and idea) is fast being forgotten - anyone can be benevolant, but charity is disinterested benevolance. It doesn't care if what it does is invisible. It doesn't stop to think what it can get back. It expects nothing. It only gives. This is what the apostle John meant when he wrote Above all, little children, love one another.

Just As Well I'm Not A Cat . . .

Last night I sat with friends and family around a bonfire, watching the fireworks that one of my mates was setting off. Sad to think that in a year or less such displays will probably be banned. Another prime example of government sucking away responsibility and freedom. But no one (not even I) was pondering such things at the time. There was, however, at least one person who was doing enough pondering for the whole group - not surprisingly, a young child. She was sitting beside me for part of the evening and during that time she didn't once cease to pepper me with questions.

Why is it dark? Because it's night time. But why is it night? Well, because the sun's gone. Where did it go? Um, you see where the sky meets the city? Yeah. The sun's gone over that line and underneath us. How come I can't see it? Uh well, because it's, ah, because the ground gets in the way.

This kid wasn't asking questions to be annoying or just for the hang of it - she really wanted to know the answers. I was the same at her age. I exhausted my parents with questions until I came to the stage where most of the time they didn't know the answers. So I stopped asking. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain I probably assumed that if Mom or Dad didn't know, no one would. It's taken years to win back a mere portion of my native curiosity - and it can be safely assumed that I'll never regain what I once had. But a mere portion, well stewarded, is enough. Now I ponder and question, poke and prod; it's not relaxing and it's rarely comfortable, but it is fulfilling. It feels as if you've gained, not a sixth sense, but something that makes the other five worth having.

Casual Death

This afternoon as I was stacking wood in our dismally small woodshed, a huge (well, abnormally large anyway) daddy long legs spider crawled out of a gap and began making its way across the shed. And of course I did what seven eighths of Earths people would have done - I tried to kill it. But I missed, didn't I. So the wee blighter ambled through another crack and was gone. Ten minutes later it came back. I thought okay, this time. No such luck. It was gone, and my self-esteem was starting to get a little dinted. Twenty minutes passed and it came back again. Well, I got it that time. Maimed with the first blow, obliterated with the next. And I went back to work. I didn't pause, not till later, to ask myself why exactly I had killed it. It was just one of things that you do. Did I have any reason for exterminating it? Not really - it wasn't dangerous, harmful or even bothersome. Just a bit ugly. For that unchosen trait it died. Was I justified? I consider myself (and all others of my race) a lord of the earth; but as such I have certain duties and responsibilities. Should frivolity ever accompany the taking of life? Well, but it was just a spider I hear you say. Yes it was - but does that make it fundamentally different from any other animal? And how so? People would certainly raise a hue and cry if I bashed a cat, for instance, to death with a piece of four-by-two or an axe. It wouldn't really matter how quickly I managed it, and I didn't manage to kill the poor old spider quickly at all. It's cruel, it's cruel they'd exclaim, then Pass me the fly swatter. Double-standard, anyone? I'm not suggesting, obviously, that one is guilty of murder when killing an animal of any description. However, perhaps we should be a little more circumspect when dealing out death. It would be a good habit, for one thing, and one more step towards bringing our actions in line with our reason.

Working With Fire

In the past I've never really aspired to have much money - I certainly have had everything I needed and more than enough of what I wanted. But over the last few months I've found a hole, called filmmaking, that my carefully hoarded funds keep wanting to disappear into. So far no substantial amounts have been sucked in, but it's only a matter of time. And I'm beginning to see why people do so much for the stuff - it really does make the world go 'round. This costs x that costs y and the other thing costs a ludicrous z. I take out my pocket calculator every once in a while, and add up the value of all the items I 'require'. The sum never fails to shock me. The other funny thing I'm learning about money is that (the old adage is true) what you have isn't ever quite enough. Because, you see, if you have n amount, you won't want to buy something of that value - you'll want the item that costs n + x. This is why sages down through history have viewed money as dangerous - not bad, but dangerous - because it is, like adrenaline, caffeine and alcohol, addictive. If one is very careful however, it can be tamed. I'm preaching to myself also. The first and most important thing is only spending what you have. There are exceptions to this rule, but very few, and if it can be followed strictly it will yield marvellous results. The second thing to remember is not to upgrade your shopping list every time your income goes up. Ask yourself why you were content to buy model X500 last week - you probably did have your head screwed on at the time, and equally probably there's no rock solid reason to dump it and purchase model X600. Thirdly, just remember that you're working with fire - very useful, and increasingly powerful the more you have, but not to be trifled with. Give it half a chance, and it will eat you.

Makers & Tellers

I spent most of today trying, without an iota of success, to come up with a plot for a 2-3 page screenplay. It's one of the requirements for my South Seas application. I breezed through the first two assignments: a film review and a (very) short critical essay on a particular aspect of the New Zealand television industry. But when I got to the screenplay all work stopped dead - I just couldn't come up with a story. Which is more than a bit ironic. Anyone who reads this blog even semi-regularly will know that I harp on about "story" and how much I love and value it. But the sad fact remains that I do not have the gift for story-making. That doesn't mean that I can't tell stories - there is a distinct difference. Tolkien and King, for example, are story-makers who have achieved fame and success through of their skill in crafting highly original and compelling plots. We love and respect them because they've given us something new and not before thought of. But not every author can, or need, attain this particular goal. Often we don't care if it's original, as long as it's good. That's when folk like Shakespeare and Grisham come into their own. Out of all the plays that The Bard wrote, only one (The Tempest) was original. The others were all stories poached from various sources and retold with flair, heart and a craftsmans touch. And Grisham? For the first decade of his career (prolific though it was) he only told one story: little good guy takes on big bad guy and wins; David and Goliath. But he told it very well. These are the story-tellers. They serve us familiar food, relying on their cooking skills to make the difference. Are they an inferior breed to their 'creator' brothers? Perhaps. I hope (and somewhere deep inside, I think) not. But my judgement is fundamentally skewed - after all, I am one of them.

Happy, Untroubled And Caged

I drove a car by myself for the first time this evening. Shameful, I know. Twenty years old and only just got my Restricted . . .  Anyway, it was a bit of an odd feeling; I had this persistent sensation of space beside me, as if someone was actually unsitting in the passengers seat. It made me more vigilant, not less, because I realised that I was totally in control of my own butts safety and there was no one else to take up any slack. Responsibility often has this effect; people get lumped with having to fend for themselves or others and they rise to the challenge, stepping up several notches from what they previously believed they were capable of. In this country however, the powers that be have decided that responsibility is far too weighty and burdensome for any but a select few to shoulder - and have thoughtfully gone about taking it away from everyone else. Not up to finding a job? Get on the dole. Rather not look after the kids? Send them to government funded daycare. Don't want to commit to marriage? A de facto relationship has all the same benefits. It's a case of smothering mother syndrome on steroids. We are not too far from sliding right into Huxleys Brave New World - a society where no one is unhappy, no one is troubled and no one is free. Intelligence and maturity is being sucked from us by the spider of unresponsibility, leaving a dead, hollow husk. It's not that we don't do what we're supposed to. We're not supposed to do anything - or nothing of worth anyway. Being handed a task, a mandate and something to protect has never hurt anyone. On the contrary, it's given generations of people the impetus to grow, to conquer and to teach. Surely it can't be that bad.

Individualists & Clannites

A conversation I was having this evening wended its way around to the subject of clannish vs individualistic mentalities. Everyone falls into one or the other - safety in community, or freedom in autonomy. I'm not going to argue for one over the other; for one thing I'm not sure if there is a 'right' one and a 'wrong' one, and for another I am highly prejudiced. I don't have a clannish bone in me; frankly that whole culture scares me a bit. Which is funny, because as far as I can tell people from "the other side" fear the individualist mindset. Which side of the divide you happen to fall on probably depends far more on your upbringing and personality than any rational philosophy. There are certainly pros and cons to both paradigms. The Clannites view Individualists as mavericks, loose cannons and chaos-lovers, whereas I see them as rigid, custom bound and close minded. All of the above are at least semi-valid points. Perhaps part of the reason we choose to sit in a certain camp has to do with the old Fate/Chaos dichotomy. From ancient times people have favoured one or the other. Some (including, I believe, FB in a comment on "The Devil You Know...") have theorised that the strong and affluent prefer to believe that chaos rules, while the weaker and more downtrod put their trust in fate. For obvious reasons. This works logically, but in my experience it's a little bit too simplistic of an explanation - I know far too many exceptions to this rule. Ultimately I think that we pick one to cover up or assuage our insecurity. Some fear being controlled and locked into a mold, while others are afraid of having to find their own way. Is it possible to transcend this? I have to say maybe; I'm unwilling to give up hope - but in my limited experience I've never seen it done. Having said that, I'm sure it can't hurt to try.

Larger Than The Label

I was looking at shotgun microphone specs today, trying to decide which model will give me the best value for money. There's only one problem: I know absolutely nothing about sound or mics. So when they rattle off numbers and obscure Latin and/or Greek based words, they've got me right where they most probably want me - well confused. I used to think that these 'specialist knowledge inadequecies' were pretty much genetic and inviolable, but I've effectively proved myself wrong during the course of this year. I've picked up medium-depth specialist knowledge in both filmmaking in general and prosumer camcorders in particular. At the beginning of the year, half of the terms I don't even think about using now would have washed straight over my head. And when I go looking for a camcorder, I know exactly what I want and why as opposed to the look for good reviews and cool names method that was my only resort just four months ago. I'm not particularly gifted in any of these areas, just interested. Which brings up the possibility that we may be limiting ourselves far more severely than our genes do. Boxes make people comfortable because they're tidy and easy. They can also be destructive. "He's a hands on chap", "They're a technical sort", "She's an arty type" can all be intended as compliments, or just as useful reference info - but they can also establish mental roadblocks that limit a persons versatility. The onus to combat this, however, shouldn't be on the 'labeler' but rather on the 'labelee'. Otherwise we'll spend all our time making sure that we never say anything informative about anyone else. We have enough of that already with the PC brigade. No, it is the responsibility of those who have been restrained (by others or themselves) to be larger than the label. We are all different but that idea has been taken much too far, in the wrong direction. Celebrate diversity in others by all means, but don't forget to look for it in yourself.

M & O as a MO

A few days ago I finished the first draft of a script that I've been working on; it felt so good to get right to the end of something, even though it'll require serious revision. Much of today, on the other hand, was spent searching for footage that I've discovered is all out of my price range - nothing tangible was achieved. Days like these can often leave you feeling, not discouraged, but just a bit flat. Like Oh, I spent a lot of time getting nothing done today. To a certain extent unfruitful days are pretty much unavoidable - you're always going to have times when nothing is really working for you, and no matter how much hard slog you put in you won't get a lot out. But this can be minimised. All it takes is motivation and organization. And in five simple steps . . . No, seriously. First off you have to want to get something useful done. Otherwise it's all a moot point really; if you have no will there will be no way. This is harder for some than others. I'm part of the "some". Then once you actually want to achieve something (as opposed to just opining that it may be a good idea) you have to implement a plan. Because the initial and easiest way to do a thing often doesn't work; if you stop there, you're shot. You have to have a Plan B, C, and possibly Q up your sleeve, otherwise you're not going to get anywhere. Blessed are the flexible says the modern proverb, for they shall bend. They shall also get more done than anyone else because they're not worried about doing things the way they originally planned. We always complain about running out of time in our day, but how much time do we waste because we're unmotivated or disorganized? For the majority, I think the answer would have to be Quite a bit.

The Rules

Well, I'm back. The holiday was very relaxing, and the Big Mountain Short Film Festival was excellent. No, my film Waterproof didn't win anything - didn't really deserve to either, so that's alright. It was (admittedly in my opinion) towards the top of its budget bracket though, so I was fairly pleased about that. The main thing was that I learned a lot and met some really talented and helpful people. There were many things that I heard over the weekend which will stay with me for some time, but perhaps the point that impacted me the most was this: It doesn't matter if you break the rules. I'm not a wildly original thinker by nature, and generally tend to do things the way that they've been done before. And there are accepted reasons why a practice has passed into common usage - normally because it works. But it doesn't have to be the only way to do it. Ultimately there's no point trying to look professional while you're working to achieve a goal; the important thing is that your end product, the only part an audience ever sees, looks classy. If tracks are going to blow your budget then drag the camera across a table on top of a jumper. Or use a wheelchair. If you really can't afford a crane, use a ladder. It looks absurdly cheesy when you're doing it but who cares? If you can't tell (or near enough) from what ends up on screen then it doesn't matter one bit. Many of us (myself certainly included) get so bound up in doing things the "correct" way that we don't pause to ponder whether there are viable alternatives. Rules are not as important as they make themselves out to be. Laws should not be messed with as they cannot be broken; they can however break you. But Rules? Rules are like the Pirates Code: "More actual guidelines"

You Dunnit

When I came home from work this evening, I was feeling distinctly queasy. Of course when I got home the witch hunt began: I'd sat backwards on the bus, I hadn't drank hardly any water today, I hadn't eaten. But did it really matter what did it? After sitting quietly for a bit, a glass of ginger ale and bit of tucker I came right. I suppose you'd want to avoid doing whatever it was that caused it if you could help it - but honestly, who's going to change anything just because some you take a nasty turn once? Far too much time and energy is spent on blame-placing and guilt-assigning in our world today when it's just not necessary. A court case, okay. Generally unfortunate circumstances, no. It makes us feel better though to pick out a 'villian' and rationalise ourselves into thinking that all the trouble came from them. It's no coincidence that when natural disaster strikes it's labeled as an 'act of God'. We're never at a loss to find a scapegoat; it's too often the first thing we begin to think about. Not how can we fix this or lets make sure it doesn't happen again but who dunnit? It's futile, immature and universal. Why is it such a widespread mindframe? There are many theories, but I think it's because somewhere in the depths of who we are, we believe that it's our fault. It doesn't matter that logically we can't be directly responsible for even a tiny fraction of the worlds misfortunes - we aren't ruled by reasoning. Maybe there is a link that we can understand though: we have each caused pain, sorrow and disruption, and are all too likely to do so again in the future. In that sense we are responsible - because we're part of the problem.

P.S. I'll be away for a week - back blogging on the 23rd.

Created Equal

Tonight I watched with a small tinge of envy as a friend mindlessly filled up a whole page with cool looking doodles. I, on the other hand, have trouble drawing a straight line, never mind tackling perspective - and anything beyond a cube is like alchemy. But it's simple! they protested. And it was: for them. This is something I have to keep in mind constantly - just because someone is completely talentless in a particular area, it doesn't mean they're stupid. It's so easy to swing one way or the other, to become proud or insecure. But it's completely ridiculous to do anything of the sort. The said friend, for example, couldn't write poetry if he tried and doesn't really understand it when read either. He's a bright guy, a better mathematician than I ever will be, but when it comes to poems (or classic literature for that matter) he's lost. He'd build you a house though. Who's to say which is more important? We all know this is true, at least at some level, but in the mess of life things get forgotten and walls get built. Oh, so you're that kind of person . . . The next step (which we rarely decline) is deciding that the grass is greener somewhere and subsequently become either elitist or forever believing that we were hiding behind the door when all the good stuff was handed out. This idiotic mindset divides more people in our society than race, religion or economic background. Those were the old problems, and we've finally realised them as they make their bow and take a back seat. Well bravo. Let's move on. We now need to come to grips (in our souls, not just our heads) with the fact that all men have indeed been created equal - just not the same.