A Thought: On Video Games as Art

I've always felt that games have the potential to be art. I can offer a number of titles to back it up. That isn't to say that all games are art anymore than all movies, music, photographs, paintings, etc. necessarily qualify. But if, at the most basic level, art is something which seeks to, and succeeds at, evoking emotion in the participant, then gaming has definitely reached that level. Read more!

A Thought: Coaching and Teaching in America

Only in America will you regularly find the following in a school board's job listings: (Some sport) coach, can teach (list of real subjects) to meet teaching requirements.  Way to prioritize, America! Read more!

Old Writing: My Spirit Home

            I once read that there was a place in the Otherworld, the one that exists somewhere outside and inside this one and each of us crafted by our minds and our experiences.  Since the Otherworld is limited only by the scope of creativity, this doesn’t create the same logistical problem as it would here, where things like physics have taken such a hold over the collective unconscious.

            Anyway, when I go over there, when I meditate, or sometimes when I’m dreaming, I always end up in the same place.  Over the years, it’s grown and shaped itself around me as my life and my needs have changed, adding pieces here and there.  No matter what, though, I always feel comfortable, safe, when I’m there.  It’s a way for me to retreat into myself and try to work things out or, sometimes, just to breathe.

            My part of the world begins with a natural clearing, roughly circular.  The ground is covered with soft grass that comes just up to just below the ankle and walking barefoot across it is like treading on the plushest carpet you can imagine.  It’s the deep green of an emerald and it waves in the gentle, omnipresent breezes in a slow, irregular dance, tickling pleasantly.

            At the center of the clearing is a wide pool of clear, still water that, when I stand at the edge and look down into, seems to sink forever into darkness.  There is no fear, though, of drowning or of falling into that unending darkness.  It takes away only the negative, swallows only those things for which I no longer have a need.  That pool is where I go to toss out the parts of me that I can’t, or won’t, hold on to any longer.

            Feeding the pool, but somehow never disturbing the placid surface, is a long stream that burbles over cool rocks polished smoothed by endless ages of constant motion into a thousand unique shapes.  At the far end of the clearing, where one edge is walled by a high, mostly overgrown cliff side, is a crashing waterfall.  It isn’t massive, but it’s large enough to constantly stir the air in the clearing and create an ethereal mist around the base which covers the entrance to a cave.  Though I’ve never gone very far into the cave itself, I have no fear of it, for I know its owner and we’ve had many a long conversation.

            The rest of the clearing is surrounded by thick deciduous forest, the walls of which can make themselves so impenetrable that only those who already know the ways in and out can enter or leave.  There are trees of all sorts, and beautiful flowers dot the edges here and there, bright splashes of color on the natural canvas.  A little more than seven years ago, a tiny path appeared on the far side of the clearing, leading to a little circle of trees beneath the bough of an ancient pine where there is always a small fire burning.

Of course, the spirits of the Otherworld are always welcome, given that they bring no harm or malicious intent with them, and will from time to time make their way in to have a drink or nap awhile.  It’s not uncommon to find someone waiting for me, be it man, animal, or otherwise, when I arrive.  They, and I, know how to make the trees part for us, allowing us passage out of the clearing and into the field.

In the field, it is always a time between (dusk or dawn, I’ve never been sure which).  The sun in the distance is just barely visible over a rolling hilltop, and its touch makes the waist high grasses that surround the path leading out of the woods shimmer as they move, tiny fairy moths gliding playfully through them.

Halfway to the hill is a wide circle of flowers.  The circle is the home of a woman who is sometimes old, sometimes young, but always beautiful in her grace and peace, regardless of appearance, and radiates the peace of the truly ancient.  Though she isn’t always there, this is her place, and I am only given leave to trespass upon it by her goodness.  Now and then, very rarely, there will be a green bench, in the corner, facing the hill, where an old man waits for me instead.  I have never seen them together, and have often wondered if perhaps they are not the same being.  Regardless of my companion, I know that I will always be greeted and welcomed to warm conversation. 

I have traveled over the hill only a handful of times.  There is a garden there, but it is not mine.  I don’t know whose it is, only that it connects somehow to my little piece of the world and, in so doing, to me.  I do not feel unwelcome there, but I know it is not mine alone, if at all.

This, then, is my place, my heartland, as I’ve heard it called.  Should you ever find yourself in the Otherworld, you are welcome to visit, so long as you bring with you no darkness or ill-intent, for my friend in the cave frowns upon such things and can be quite inhospitable to those who would unleash them upon the world.  Welcome, and you have been warned.

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A Thought: On Modern Manhood

I always feel very manly when I've fixed something that was broken.  Even if it's insanely easy.  Read more!

A Thought: On the Burden of Living in the Moment

I am torn between the bliss of living in the moment, shedding the past, forgetting the future in order to simply be when and where I am, fully and completely, and the realization that, in doing so, I limit those same kinds of moments in the future by eschewing any consideration for the consequences of that fleeting, wonderful, period.  Is an hour of happiness now worth a year of possibility then?  While tomorrow is not guaranteed, to neglect the likelihood that it will come is to hasten the day when it will be so.

As well, when one person lays down the burden of responsibility for the effects of their cause, someone else must invariably shoulder it.  That is the simple math upon which the universe is built.  One cannot say that they will pick it up themselves tomorrow in the same breath that one whispers that there may be no tomorrow without being a fool, a liar or both. Read more!

A Thought: On The Secret Service Scandal

Raise your hand if you think Obama's secret service was the first president's detail to use their position to get laid or sleep with prostitutes. Read more!

A Thought: On Goodness

I sometimes wonder how much of the good in the world is done by those most keenly aware of the darkness within themselves. Read more!

15th Annual Zach's Dead Day

I like to joke that I died in an accident, which just happened to occur fifteen years ago today.  And, while it’s technically true, for a few minutes, at least, it’s mostly a joke.  Because that’s the way I learned to handle something that forever altered the way I have to live my life.  It was a decision I made all those years ago, when it was a matter of choosing hope and humor or falling into a much darker place that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it out of.  (Excuse the prepositional ending there, Dr. Hopson.  It’s intentional.)

I think everyone reaches a point where their life is broken, where you had the life before and the life after and they’re so drastically different that they seem to be entirely separate entities altogether.  For me, the first of those was my accident.   Long story short, when I was sixteen, I was hit by three drunks in a pickup.  They crushed my compact car and most of me.  I was left with some scars, some of which have faded and other that haven’t, and some pretty nasty nerve damage in my right hip that leaves me in greater or lesser degrees of pain every minute of my life, for the rest of my life.  It’s also made it so that I’ll never do lots of things that I once could, like run, swing dance or get into a car without, for just a little moment, wondering if I’ll ever get out again.  It’s been fun.

In the beginning, I was angry and wildly unrealistic about my chances for recovery.  As it was, I had a near miraculous one.  I wasn’t supposed to be able to walk again and had to spend nearly three years in therapy learning to do just that, during which I developed an immense respect for your average toddler.  Over that time, I learned patience, gained a lot of perspective on priorities and life as a whole and basically became a different and, I hope, better person.  I learned to cherish life and to live, rather than just drift through it.

Now, I’m not angry anymore.  I’ve even gotten past this strange need I once had to find the people who’d hit me and look them in the eye.  I realize now that it was just the last vestiges of that anger and bitterness, that need to blame someone for something that was.  It wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t make anyone’s life better, only worse.  And if you waste all your energy on blame, you never have anything left to learn to let go and move on.

The first anniversary of my accident, I had, at the urging of my friends, the first annual Zach’s Dead Day party, which made things easier and kept me surrounded by people who cared at a time when I desperately needed it.  I've still got some pretty fantastic friends, if not all of the same ones.  I continued to celebrate for a few years, and still think to so do, now and then.  Today seemed like a good time to think about it all, then put it away for another year, as I always do.

I won’t lie and say that there aren’t times, when things are particularly tough, that I don’t wonder what my life would be like now, had I never been injured, were things different.  There are good things and bad things, but when it comes down to it, I can’t really know.  And while I’m no fatalist, I think some things do happen for a reason and I can point to a number of pretty good ones in this case.  My life isn’t in the best place right now.  Like so many others my age, I’m staring down a very uncertain future, but I’m still thankful, all the same, to have a future at all.  And I think that’s what matters.

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Urban Legends: The Changeling and The Satyr, Pt. 1

“Will they remember?” the boy asked, quietly.

“They will,” replied the satyr.

“And will they miss me,” he whispered, “when I’m gone?”

“Of course.”

Then, for a while, nothing passed between them but the afternoon breeze until, very softly, the boy asked, “Can you make them forget?”

The satyr hesitated. “Yes.”

Then the boy heard faintly the sound of his new baby sister crying and realized for the first time the beauty in it.

“Will you?”

“If you ask it, I must.”

“And me?”  The boy turned his head, looked into the dark eyes of the satyr and saw reflected within them a measure of his own sorrow. 

“No,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “For you, I can do nothing.”

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A Thought: On Vocabulary and the Loveliness of Words

I lament that the state of our culture has in a way denied me the use of my full vocabulary, lest I be thought of as pretentious or condescending. There are words which have fallen out of common use, words which roll from the tongue, fall from the lips, and have taken with them some of the grandeur and nuance of our beautiful language. Read more!

Social Studies Praxis Update

I passed the social studies Praxis!  With quite a few points to spare, no less.  I can now teach social studies 6-12, too!  Woot! Read more!

A Thought: The Hunger Games Cookbook

Am I the only one who sees the irony of having a cookbook inspired by The Hunger Games?  I mean, I realize that it's capitalizing on the movie and the movie all but completely removed most of the references to actual hunger and starvation, but 150 recipes?  Really?  Anyway, I won't judge you if you buy it, as long as you buy it through Amazon via my link.  Ayn Rand would be so proud.


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Shameless Hocking: The Wind Through the Keyhole

The Dark Tower is arguably King's masterwork.  Spanning seven novels, they follow epic journey of Roland of Gilead, the gunslinger, and his ka-tet.  Their adventure spans many worlds, a number of which will be familiar to King fans, and involves a quest to save them all, including our own.

It was announced last year that King will be returning to Midworld with a new novel, The Wind Through the Keyhole, available in a couple of weeks.  If you're a fan of The Dark Tower, I'm sure you're as anxious for it as I am.  If you're not, you really ought to give it a shot.  The first book, The Gunslinger, is a bit different from those that follow, but is no less worth the read, all on its own.


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Urban Legends: The Fairy Court

The Fairy Court

Jennifer……………………...Gaia

Tamara………………............The Pixie

Jonathan……………............. The Satyr

Jeffery……………………… The Trickster

Daniel………………………. The Ogre Brothers

Dave………………………... The Ogre Brothers

Jacob……………………….. The Changeling

Nicole………………………. The Morrigan

Risa………………….............The Naiad

Mary…………………………The Hearth Fairy

Jerrad………………………...The Sidhe Warrior

David………………………...The Redcap

Johnny……………………….The Fallen Angel

Lea…………………………..The Lady of Summer

Hayley……………………… The Muse

Jenny……………………….. The Djinn

Gina…………………………The Sidhe Sorceress

Lisa………………………….The Queen of Air and Darkness

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Update: Urban Legends

My current focus, other than sending out resumes for the early hiring season, has become a massive photographic project that I'm tentatively calling, "Urban Legends."  It's something that I've wanted to do since I got my very first SLR when I was twenty.  I've just never had the resources, or the people, to pull it off until now. 

The idea, inspired a bit by the art of a character in a series of stories that I've been in love with since high school (Charles de Lint's Newford Stories), takes a bevy of mythic creatures and imagines them in a contemporary world.  There are creatures of light and dark, and some that dwell somewhere in between or outside. I want to capture the romance, hope, sadness and maybe even a little magic.

I'm attempting to do it all using traditional effects and costuming, rather than relying on photoshop to do everything in post.  While someone with a real mastery of digital editing can do some amazing things, it appeals to the kid in me who grew up wanting to make heroes and monsters like I saw in the movies of my childhood, before everything was CG and it all relied on camera tricks and clever innovation.  I'm not a purist, but I'd rather give it a try this way first and see what we can pull off.

Finally, I want to just take a second to thank my amazing friends.  Without them, none of this would ever be possible.  They've all been incredibly supportive and have helped immensely in every step thus far, and I'm certain that we can make something trying fantastic, in every sense of the word. Read more!

April Photo Challenge: Day 9

Taken on a road trip up the East Coast around this time of year half a lifetime ago.

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A Thought: On New Cameras

It is a tragedy to have a new camera and nothing to photograph. Read more!

Conversations with Friends: The Smiths

"No, you shut up!  No one hears The Smiths and says, 'Turn that down.'  Not even if they've never heard them before.  They hear The Smiths and say, 'I wish I was sixteen again.'" Read more!

Thoughts: On Their American Dream

One of my mentors, who passed away a few years ago, said of the education system nowadays that the greatest injustice we do to our kids is tell them they can do and be anything they want to be if they work hard enough, then do everything in our power to keep it from being so. Read more!

National Cancer Control Month (With some jokes in)

I don't normally make much a big deal about awareness campaigns.  They're a dime a dozen and while I'm a strong believer in getting involved, I sometimes feel like the sheer number of them somehow makes it so that they can get lost in the crowd.  That being said, though, this month is National Cancer Control Month.

The thing I like about this particular campaign, that I tend to dislike about a lot of others, is that it doesn't just focus on letting everyone know that the problem's around, but rather how to do something about it.  And that's more important when it comes to cancer than most other things, as the likelihood that you or someone you know will develop it.  While there's no cure, statistics almost unanimously agree that knowledge and a few simple things can drastically improve your chances of early detection and survival.  Cancer is the ultimate reason to avoid the terrible adage that what you don't know can't hurt you.  Well, okay, that and the demonic clown hiding in your closet, waiting for you to go to bed so it can eat your soul.  But, yeah, cancer's totally bad, too.

So please, I urge you to check out the official website, which you can find here.  Be knowledgeable.  Be safe. Read more!

Old Writing: Thunder

An exchange of energies in Heaven,

Nothing more.

Not a presage to rain,

Nor the pensive rantings of stars

In the emptiness of the night.

Stark, white within black,

A flash across midnight

Painted overhead

Here, then gone.

Revelations pass,

Too quick to grasp,

In the burst of rumbling,

The cry of light.

Then darkness returns,

Soft, peaceful, all-encompassing,

Alone.

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Movie Review: The Hunger Games

I read The Hunger Games last winter and, enjoying it thoroughly, proceeded directly through the rest of the trilogy.  While author Suzanne Collins does a masterful job of writing a compelling, cohesive narrative, there were some flaws in it, both technically and, more importantly, at least to me, from a logical and ideological perspective.  I had fully intended to write a review of the trilogy as a whole because, as anyone who has read the books can tell you, they’re written as a seamless narrative.  The problem, however, is that so many people are just starting to read it and to address any of the major themes that weave through the story, I would have to spoil some pretty major plot points.  So I put it aside.

Now that the movie has come out, and been hugely successful, I’m doubly glad I didn’t write that review, as almost all the people I know who hadn’t already read the books seem to be doing so now.  Having read the series then watched the movie, I almost wish that weren’t the case.  I would very much like to talk in-depth with someone who had only seen the movie.  So what I’m going to try to do now is look at the movie from both sides, first as a standalone project, then as an adaptation.

I should start by saying that I enjoyed the movie, mostly.  It’s still up in the air as to how much of that mostly was because of what it was and how much was because of what it could have been, all comparisons to the novel aside.  Don’t get me wrong, it was well-executed in many ways, from the acting and writing to the deft handling of some fairly deep thematic elements, which was part of the problem.  When you watch a truly bad movie, you don’t walk away thinking of ways it could have been better, for the most part.  But when you watch a good movie that could have been really great with just a little bit more, you leave with that vaguely frustrating sense of what if.

I’m not certain if Collins had a hand in the casting or if the casting director just really got the book, but either way, the ensemble was perfectly put together.  Both Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutcherson have been getting their well-deserved praise, but for me, a movie is as much or more defined by its supporting cast as the leads and that’s where The Hunger Games really shines. 

Both Elizabeth Banks and Woody Harrelson do a superb job of making characters who could very easily have been overdone and unlikable both empathetic and entertaining. 

Stanley Tucci, as well, revealing just the slightest hint of what was probably one of the most subtle characters in the film, humanizing Caesar by giving us just the slightest hint, here and there, that he may not necessarily have been okay with what he was doing. 

Amandla Stenberg gave an incredible performance as little Rue, walking the line between intellect and innocence that made her, heartbreakingly, the perfect sacrificial lamb.  My favorite performance, though, came from Lenny Kravitz.  As Cinna, he carried effortlessly a quiet calm that stood as a single, solid anchor in an incredibly frenetic world.  I hope to see a lot more of him in the future. 

When I got home from the movie, I went onto IMDB to find out who the director was.  I was startled to see Gary Ross’s name at the head of the page.  His first big screen effort, Pleasantville, is a favorite of mine and was masterfully filmed.  I would never have guessed, given the subtle, powerful way in which it was done that it was the same guy whose hand guided the camera throughout The Hunger Games. 

When the movie began, and we were led through the harsh reality of District 12, the slightly skewed angles, shaky camerawork and just a little too close framing captured well the hopeless, claustrophobic world in which Katniss lives.  I was pleased.  When it continued, however, once she was outside the fence and into the woods, then on through the rest of the movie, I was far less so.  I’ve railed in the past against the growing trend of filmmakers who seem to believe that there’s something to be said for that kind of aesthetic.  And there is, when used properly.  It does manage to evoke a real sense of disorientation and claustrophobia, which was used well in movies like Disturbia, where it created empathy with the lead character who was himself trapped.  But when used throughout a movie, it comes off as being amateurish, at best, and, in the case of some of the more jarring action scenes in The Hunger Games, just plain distracting.

As I said, overall, as a stand-alone movie, it was better than a lot of what’s out there now, and what it lacked could have been fixed and, hopefully, will be with the sequels.  But how did it measure up as an adaptation?  Well, Collins had a real hand in it, and it remained more or less faithful to the plot of the novel, removing and changing things that were, mostly, okay.  It did, however, make some mistakes that may come back to haunt it later, such as not addressing the avox at all (if you haven’t read the book, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about and that’s the problem, right there).  As well, they never really very clearly explain the whole concept of trading extra names in the bowl for food and resources.  Hence the term Hunger Games.  For that matter, they didn’t quite get across the point that these people were literally starving very well, either, just that they were kinda poor.

Of all the changes, though, the one with which I had greatest issue was the characterization of Prim, Katniss’s sister.  In the novel, she was far more like her sister than her mother, being stoic and pragmatic beyond her years out of necessity.  The character in the movie, however, was mostly just a whiny, fragile thing that did a real disservice to who she was in the novels.  This is one of those points where, if they don’t do a very good job of shifting her character back, they may have some real issues down the line.

One a final note, if I may be a little less objective, I have to admit that I was, as a fan, a little disappointed with two things.  First, the girl on fire costume.  In the novel, it is a pivotal and powerfully written moment in the narrative.  It’s meant to be awe-inspiring, even to the jaded people in The Capitol.  The problem is, it was pretty underwhelming.  When they came out, I just kind of thought, “That’s it?”  I mean, come on, Hollywood.  All you ever want to do is set things on fire, why be understated now, damn it?

The other thing, and a much smaller one, was the way they handled the reaction of Rue’s district to her death.  In the novel, the impoverished people scrape together what they can and send Katniss a very simple gift, a loaf of bread.  It’s a deeply moving moment, much more so than the quickly quelled riot with which it was replaced.  You see, in the book, the effects of starvation, dehydration and sleep deprivation are a much larger issue.  The movie, as I mentioned before, tends to gloss over the realities of those sorts of things, which detracts from it as a whole.

Overall, it’s worth watching and it has real potential to knock it out of the park next time around.  The only real worry I have for the sequels is that, if they were too squeamish, for whatever reason, to show real, mass suffering in the first movie, what are they going to do as things continue to worsen for the oppressed people of the districts?

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The Balance of Science and the Arts

When we foster the sciences without the arts, we create a society that is able to accomplish nearly anything, but doesn't have creativity or innovation to imagine, nor the empathy or foresight to know if it should.  On the other hand, the arts without the sciences can dream of anything and accomplish very little. Read more!