Life is good.
Life is very good. It is as simple as that. I know there will be challenges, but the difference between myself last year and this year is that I will gladly face them.
I am learning piano at long last, and loving it. I'm learning about the Physics of Sound and Music, with Keyboard training, and Harmony EVERY DAY. I just auditioned for the highest instrument ensemble in the school (I hope I impressed somebody), and I have never felt so alive.
But not that crazy, shaking sort of alive. I feel...knowledgeable, determined, and powerful beyond measure. And this feeling offers no detriment to any other person, as if I were better than them or something. This feeling is entirely internal. I am content, and excited.
And this feeling...I am suddenly beset by my previous posts, how my last mess of wrath and words was only a prelude of things to come, as I spiral deeper and deeper into my temper.
So in that light, my quest for equanimity has hit a snag, to which I have turned from this path of anger, and instead have picked up the search for the source. I do not enjoy being grumpy, but for a time it had seemed one of the few things people could relate to...which makes me very sad.
But tomorrow is a new day, and I'll face it, sword drawn and grinning.
Over and Out,
Adam
PS: Due to my rigorous studying schedule, you'll hear from me every week or so. Take care and thank you for reading. ;)
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
The Internet, Masks, Necessary Evils, and Personal Truth
In other words, A Convoluted Mess – Part I
Does how we conduct ourselves on the internet transcend how we do in the outside world?
I have been studying etymology in the hopes to extend my vocabulary. Heck, at least it’ll make me sound smarter, if nothing else (but I hope it is something else). And in truth, I have achieved my first goal (to eliminate “like” from my vocabulary of filler words; now I must extricate all of the fillers with simple silent pauses). But in acting intelligent, does one become intelligent? Or is it all a fabrication – a mask over the mind? Someone once told me “People don’t change, they just get really good at faking it.” However, if one fakes long enough…if a man fakes monster for long enough, does he become that monster? Are our fabrications and realities eutectic to each other?
If you act like an asshole, and continue to for a time, sooner or later, you will become that asshole. I’m sure there is a catchy adage in existence that I’m missing here, but oh well.
I just hope I am not sacrificing bits of personality in a quest to better myself. I am proud of being able to articulate more accurately what I am thinking or feeling, but I worry that I may come off as sounding a little like a pedant (basically: a prick. “One who shows off their knowledge,” as I am doing right now). And apparently my epiphany in the last year and a half when this quest was still incipient that I had come to refuse to be ignorant and limited has not rung true to many of my friends…so I will say it again.
I refuse to be unable to articulate what I mean and feel, and I will do whatever it takes to become the person I want to become.
If that involves studying vocabulary for the rest of my life, so be it, at least I’ll be knowledgeable; hell, I love it anyway. And I am becoming this person, donning this Mask and calling it my own. But it is not a Mask, it never was, and I want my online face to match my real one. Though my disposition here is one much more irascible than around campus, one could easily tell that this is my venue for releasing my frustrations with the world (please see title of Weblog) and hopefully answering a few questions while raising a few more.
But I digress:
If all the world is a stage, then the internet is simply extending that stage; it elongates into the Orchestra and invites audience guests by the dozen at every dance number (which is every second). But the scenery and spectacle have become much more deceptive. The fourth wall is broken, along with the fifth and sixth, and the Masks are still present. They stick and graft to our faces, filling in every nook, every niche, form-fitting in every trait.
And as the line between truth and fiction blurs, the liars become prophets and the sincere are ostracized without question.
I use this metaphor because good people, who conduct themselves courteously, have been harassed on the Net. And assholes (pardon me), who conduct themselves as much worse, are praised for it. Then there are those people who would become lost in the Internet. AIM Junkies, Compulsive Away Message Checkers, Bloggers (heh, go figure); people that become so absorbed in the World Wide Web that they are no longer a physical person. They have donned the robes of another being, a digital entity.
In my own defense, though I am technically a Blogger, I have an AIM account, and I certainly check away messages, everything that one can do can be done in moderation. But my point lies in the attrition of our tangible selves.
Do our original selves become desiccated, vapid from the attrition they suffer with every blow we deal to save face even when that face wasn’t ours? This brings me to the core of my ire in this rant. It is the people that would completely and utterly deceive others over the internet to take whatever they please from whoever they wish who get my blood boiling. These people, no matter how you put it, are evil. But, as much as I hate to admit it, they could be necessary in their own right. Without the insincere, real sincerity would lose its power.
Without Lies, there would be no Truth.
For one to exist, the other must also exist.
So if our Masks exist, our hiding place, our sanctuary, then we have more of an admirable reason to embrace life, embrace ourselves, and discard our masks forever. But it isn’t that simple. It can’t be that simple. Why?
People. Because the vast diversity of people, there is dissention among certain people, and some of those people are, for lack of a better word, nutso. Masks today are not so much an act of power than an act of protection. With a Mask, no one can find you. Some can come close, but we always keep those most valuable details hidden; and for good reason. Too many tragic events have occurred due to a false sense of security on the internet. Too many deaths, too many rapes, and too many mistaken identities.
It is strange how the use of text and code can influence some of the worst and best behaviors in people. It is also scary. None of us are impavid and none are impervious to the affronts we receive on the World Wide Web. I suppose the art, if there was one, would lie with the balance between Armor and Attitude. Armor – Masks – to protect yourself from those that mean you harm. Attitude to choose when to be yourself and when to play a role, because both will be necessary.
So instead, the way we conduct ourselves on the internet reveals only a shadow of our real self. I say shadow because so much about us cannot be described with justice by words, so only an echo of our personalities and attitudes are expressed (albeit more and more articulately thanks to upgraded forums and weblogs) through the webspace. But it is certainly a part of us. Unless you have no life, each Mask we wear has been extracted from a part of us; made from our own flesh and blood. In this generation, we hold organic masks, ever-changing and molding, ripped from our flesh – our imaginations – our very souls, to rest beside us and come to arms when we need to hide, when we need to fight, and when we need to stand tall against the invidious flood on the horizon.
There is a point to this. I just haven’t reached it yet.
Over and Out,
Adam
Does how we conduct ourselves on the internet transcend how we do in the outside world?
I have been studying etymology in the hopes to extend my vocabulary. Heck, at least it’ll make me sound smarter, if nothing else (but I hope it is something else). And in truth, I have achieved my first goal (to eliminate “like” from my vocabulary of filler words; now I must extricate all of the fillers with simple silent pauses). But in acting intelligent, does one become intelligent? Or is it all a fabrication – a mask over the mind? Someone once told me “People don’t change, they just get really good at faking it.” However, if one fakes long enough…if a man fakes monster for long enough, does he become that monster? Are our fabrications and realities eutectic to each other?
If you act like an asshole, and continue to for a time, sooner or later, you will become that asshole. I’m sure there is a catchy adage in existence that I’m missing here, but oh well.
I just hope I am not sacrificing bits of personality in a quest to better myself. I am proud of being able to articulate more accurately what I am thinking or feeling, but I worry that I may come off as sounding a little like a pedant (basically: a prick. “One who shows off their knowledge,” as I am doing right now). And apparently my epiphany in the last year and a half when this quest was still incipient that I had come to refuse to be ignorant and limited has not rung true to many of my friends…so I will say it again.
I refuse to be unable to articulate what I mean and feel, and I will do whatever it takes to become the person I want to become.
If that involves studying vocabulary for the rest of my life, so be it, at least I’ll be knowledgeable; hell, I love it anyway. And I am becoming this person, donning this Mask and calling it my own. But it is not a Mask, it never was, and I want my online face to match my real one. Though my disposition here is one much more irascible than around campus, one could easily tell that this is my venue for releasing my frustrations with the world (please see title of Weblog) and hopefully answering a few questions while raising a few more.
But I digress:
If all the world is a stage, then the internet is simply extending that stage; it elongates into the Orchestra and invites audience guests by the dozen at every dance number (which is every second). But the scenery and spectacle have become much more deceptive. The fourth wall is broken, along with the fifth and sixth, and the Masks are still present. They stick and graft to our faces, filling in every nook, every niche, form-fitting in every trait.
And as the line between truth and fiction blurs, the liars become prophets and the sincere are ostracized without question.
I use this metaphor because good people, who conduct themselves courteously, have been harassed on the Net. And assholes (pardon me), who conduct themselves as much worse, are praised for it. Then there are those people who would become lost in the Internet. AIM Junkies, Compulsive Away Message Checkers, Bloggers (heh, go figure); people that become so absorbed in the World Wide Web that they are no longer a physical person. They have donned the robes of another being, a digital entity.
In my own defense, though I am technically a Blogger, I have an AIM account, and I certainly check away messages, everything that one can do can be done in moderation. But my point lies in the attrition of our tangible selves.
Do our original selves become desiccated, vapid from the attrition they suffer with every blow we deal to save face even when that face wasn’t ours? This brings me to the core of my ire in this rant. It is the people that would completely and utterly deceive others over the internet to take whatever they please from whoever they wish who get my blood boiling. These people, no matter how you put it, are evil. But, as much as I hate to admit it, they could be necessary in their own right. Without the insincere, real sincerity would lose its power.
Without Lies, there would be no Truth.
For one to exist, the other must also exist.
So if our Masks exist, our hiding place, our sanctuary, then we have more of an admirable reason to embrace life, embrace ourselves, and discard our masks forever. But it isn’t that simple. It can’t be that simple. Why?
People. Because the vast diversity of people, there is dissention among certain people, and some of those people are, for lack of a better word, nutso. Masks today are not so much an act of power than an act of protection. With a Mask, no one can find you. Some can come close, but we always keep those most valuable details hidden; and for good reason. Too many tragic events have occurred due to a false sense of security on the internet. Too many deaths, too many rapes, and too many mistaken identities.
It is strange how the use of text and code can influence some of the worst and best behaviors in people. It is also scary. None of us are impavid and none are impervious to the affronts we receive on the World Wide Web. I suppose the art, if there was one, would lie with the balance between Armor and Attitude. Armor – Masks – to protect yourself from those that mean you harm. Attitude to choose when to be yourself and when to play a role, because both will be necessary.
So instead, the way we conduct ourselves on the internet reveals only a shadow of our real self. I say shadow because so much about us cannot be described with justice by words, so only an echo of our personalities and attitudes are expressed (albeit more and more articulately thanks to upgraded forums and weblogs) through the webspace. But it is certainly a part of us. Unless you have no life, each Mask we wear has been extracted from a part of us; made from our own flesh and blood. In this generation, we hold organic masks, ever-changing and molding, ripped from our flesh – our imaginations – our very souls, to rest beside us and come to arms when we need to hide, when we need to fight, and when we need to stand tall against the invidious flood on the horizon.
There is a point to this. I just haven’t reached it yet.
Over and Out,
Adam
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Broken Sword
My Katana broke today. Well, maybe not broke persay, but let's just say it will never draw the same again.
This is what I get for fooling myself, for a sliver of a moment, that a sword replica could do anything remotely like its replicant. For that split-second when common sense goes out the window to be replaced by a meaner, leaner, impavidly unsensical sense that dictates my killing blow to a piece of rotting wood, I had decieved myself. Actually, it was a guitar frame.
Strange how a music major would give in to lancinating a musical instrument. However, this guitar was moribund. Or rather, it was already dead. With two strings left, the frame and spine separating from its joints; one could say I was putting it out of its misery...at the expense of my own enjoyment.
Dad told me to "let out my aggression" on the poor thing, then dump it in a pile and we'd put it in the garbage. So with Naginata and Katana in hand, I set to work both honing my weapon skills and completing a meager chore at the same time. And not to say I didn't have fun. The Naginata, it too being a replica, did its job well. It is basically a short sword on the end of a stick (the blade is much longer than a spear's), and my version disconnects in the middle to work as a club and a Wakisashi sword. This feature proved quite effective in destroying the innards of the frame.
Not to say the Katana didn't do well. Save for the finishing move, I was impressed with the performance of the unfolded stainless steel blade. I cut the back frame clean in too! At least my sword arm is getting better. But it was that final cut; that as I swung, all doubt, all restraint, and all fear...fled from my muscles, that it was too much for the sword. And as the front of the frame - spine, strings, frets and all - were severed from each other, the blade continued through, and I was left with pause.
A stream of air exited my nose and my relaxed muscles returned to their tension as a horrid thought breezed through my mind. I checked my blade...
It is now crooked. Looking at it, I realize it was never perfect, but now anyone can see my bent blade with utter ease. That irks me. That irks me a lot.
I am certain the thing can be repaired, but finding a Bladesmith in Northern Massachusetts might be a bit of a chore.
But it will never Draw the same again. This I am certain of, so I will savor and store the memory of its first Draw, fresh from its saya, and how something had coarsed through my veins, my muscles, my bones, my spirit, and for a moment the Tug said: "You can do anything."
That feeling, that something - it's gotta' be better than sex. ;)
Over and Out,
Adam
PS: Due to the state of my Finishing Move, I now, that I think about it, have no doubt that if that sword were not a 30 dollar replica, I could have easily and deftly cut through the tree behind the frame as well. :)
This is what I get for fooling myself, for a sliver of a moment, that a sword replica could do anything remotely like its replicant. For that split-second when common sense goes out the window to be replaced by a meaner, leaner, impavidly unsensical sense that dictates my killing blow to a piece of rotting wood, I had decieved myself. Actually, it was a guitar frame.
Strange how a music major would give in to lancinating a musical instrument. However, this guitar was moribund. Or rather, it was already dead. With two strings left, the frame and spine separating from its joints; one could say I was putting it out of its misery...at the expense of my own enjoyment.
Dad told me to "let out my aggression" on the poor thing, then dump it in a pile and we'd put it in the garbage. So with Naginata and Katana in hand, I set to work both honing my weapon skills and completing a meager chore at the same time. And not to say I didn't have fun. The Naginata, it too being a replica, did its job well. It is basically a short sword on the end of a stick (the blade is much longer than a spear's), and my version disconnects in the middle to work as a club and a Wakisashi sword. This feature proved quite effective in destroying the innards of the frame.
Not to say the Katana didn't do well. Save for the finishing move, I was impressed with the performance of the unfolded stainless steel blade. I cut the back frame clean in too! At least my sword arm is getting better. But it was that final cut; that as I swung, all doubt, all restraint, and all fear...fled from my muscles, that it was too much for the sword. And as the front of the frame - spine, strings, frets and all - were severed from each other, the blade continued through, and I was left with pause.
A stream of air exited my nose and my relaxed muscles returned to their tension as a horrid thought breezed through my mind. I checked my blade...
It is now crooked. Looking at it, I realize it was never perfect, but now anyone can see my bent blade with utter ease. That irks me. That irks me a lot.
I am certain the thing can be repaired, but finding a Bladesmith in Northern Massachusetts might be a bit of a chore.
But it will never Draw the same again. This I am certain of, so I will savor and store the memory of its first Draw, fresh from its saya, and how something had coarsed through my veins, my muscles, my bones, my spirit, and for a moment the Tug said: "You can do anything."
That feeling, that something - it's gotta' be better than sex. ;)
Over and Out,
Adam
PS: Due to the state of my Finishing Move, I now, that I think about it, have no doubt that if that sword were not a 30 dollar replica, I could have easily and deftly cut through the tree behind the frame as well. :)
Saturday, August 13, 2005
City of Heroes: Game for the Working Man...and Only the Working Man
My introduction to MMORPG (yes, that does refer to an actual gaming genre) world was one bereft of logic. After shelling out 60 bucks for the game itself, paying a meager fee of 15 (or less) dollars a month seemed downright asinine. But, when you think about any MMO game left to its own instruments, its only purpose is to provide an online battleground/society for its users. And with the amount of upgrades and patches, as well as Events online, they have to make more money somehow.
However, for a jobless student like myself, getting sucked into such a world and paying month to month would most certainly eat steadily away at my hard-earned savings, and who needs the thought of wasting both time AND money on a video game to get lines of code that make your other lines of code cooler?
But…
City of Heroes, along with a short list of well-made MMORPGs, is addicting as hell. There is something to be said about constructing your own superhero down to facial expression and trapping thugs in cases of solid earth while your teammates pummel the crap out of his helpless body. Going solo for the first couple of levels can make you feel invincible…or downright idiotic, which is why team-based combat rules in City of Heroes.
With so many possible costumes and abilities, you can find almost any combination you need. And good teams are still rare, which is why it is such a rush when you get on one.
And good Leaders are hard to come by. Some are decisive, but way too gung-ho, so pals get left behind to be slaughtered. Others are immensely impatient, but sometimes that pays off when teammates take forever to pee ;). But I like the ones that are humble enough that you don’t want to kill them after being led into an ambush and watching your pals be slaughtered like cattle.
Scrappers (melee heroes) do not make good Leaders. I don’t care if you recruit well. When the things get dicey, Scrappers cannot give orders, we’re too busy fighting. Controllers, Defenders, or Blasters make exquisite Leaders. Why? Because they are a fucking distance away. They can easily survey the situation and make educated decisions on what to do about it. It is great fun to watch a Scrapper take on a Boss all alone, and then freeze that Boss solid, so that lone Scrapper really can beat him.
Now, take these comments with a grain of salt. I have seen my share of jerks, no matter what their archetype, and a fair number of Scrappers and Tanks that led very well and it was an honor to kick butt with them, but for the most part, the melee fighters…are absolutely infantile and seemingly inebriated when it comes to leading.
Now, I would not have done such a tangent if I were not fully absorbed by this game. A lot of people would say something along the lines of, “Why are you wasting brain power lecturing nerds on Leading capabilities?” give or take a few terms. And a large side of me would say, “Exactly.”
Because, although I consider myself a Gamer, as I grow older I have come to realize the art of procrastination. In America especially, we are very, very good at procrastinating. And though you could argue that MMORPGs are just another way to interact with other people, and in some sad way you would be correct, it is still effectively keeping us from doing what we are supposed to be doing. It is synonymous with the Everquest-complex: that one is so consumed by this online society, that reality seems less and less appealing. Relationships
So perhaps I should change the title to this Rant to: City of Heroes: Game for the Single Working Man. Someone who is financially covered and who won’t hate himself, at least initially, when the only place he feels at home is in the Pink spandex suit with dangerous shoulder pads at 1:00 in the morning fighting Igneous rock beasts.
Since I feel at home in reality, I can only escape for so long. I have responsibilities and a future to secure, so I only play for a month at a time. The major flaw to such a technique is Personal. I make good friends, who watch my back and I theirs, in this massive world full of different heroes, but then, by leaving for certain amounts of time, they grow up (or just level up a lot) without me. I miss their growth. And when I return, their levels are so much higher than my own that I cannot join them in their current missions.
So for friends, I just start over. And over. And over again.
But for the time being, I am much happier embracing life…
And Unemployment.
Over and Out,
Adam
However, for a jobless student like myself, getting sucked into such a world and paying month to month would most certainly eat steadily away at my hard-earned savings, and who needs the thought of wasting both time AND money on a video game to get lines of code that make your other lines of code cooler?
But…
City of Heroes, along with a short list of well-made MMORPGs, is addicting as hell. There is something to be said about constructing your own superhero down to facial expression and trapping thugs in cases of solid earth while your teammates pummel the crap out of his helpless body. Going solo for the first couple of levels can make you feel invincible…or downright idiotic, which is why team-based combat rules in City of Heroes.
With so many possible costumes and abilities, you can find almost any combination you need. And good teams are still rare, which is why it is such a rush when you get on one.
And good Leaders are hard to come by. Some are decisive, but way too gung-ho, so pals get left behind to be slaughtered. Others are immensely impatient, but sometimes that pays off when teammates take forever to pee ;). But I like the ones that are humble enough that you don’t want to kill them after being led into an ambush and watching your pals be slaughtered like cattle.
Scrappers (melee heroes) do not make good Leaders. I don’t care if you recruit well. When the things get dicey, Scrappers cannot give orders, we’re too busy fighting. Controllers, Defenders, or Blasters make exquisite Leaders. Why? Because they are a fucking distance away. They can easily survey the situation and make educated decisions on what to do about it. It is great fun to watch a Scrapper take on a Boss all alone, and then freeze that Boss solid, so that lone Scrapper really can beat him.
Now, take these comments with a grain of salt. I have seen my share of jerks, no matter what their archetype, and a fair number of Scrappers and Tanks that led very well and it was an honor to kick butt with them, but for the most part, the melee fighters…are absolutely infantile and seemingly inebriated when it comes to leading.
Now, I would not have done such a tangent if I were not fully absorbed by this game. A lot of people would say something along the lines of, “Why are you wasting brain power lecturing nerds on Leading capabilities?” give or take a few terms. And a large side of me would say, “Exactly.”
Because, although I consider myself a Gamer, as I grow older I have come to realize the art of procrastination. In America especially, we are very, very good at procrastinating. And though you could argue that MMORPGs are just another way to interact with other people, and in some sad way you would be correct, it is still effectively keeping us from doing what we are supposed to be doing. It is synonymous with the Everquest-complex: that one is so consumed by this online society, that reality seems less and less appealing. Relationships
So perhaps I should change the title to this Rant to: City of Heroes: Game for the Single Working Man. Someone who is financially covered and who won’t hate himself, at least initially, when the only place he feels at home is in the Pink spandex suit with dangerous shoulder pads at 1:00 in the morning fighting Igneous rock beasts.
Since I feel at home in reality, I can only escape for so long. I have responsibilities and a future to secure, so I only play for a month at a time. The major flaw to such a technique is Personal. I make good friends, who watch my back and I theirs, in this massive world full of different heroes, but then, by leaving for certain amounts of time, they grow up (or just level up a lot) without me. I miss their growth. And when I return, their levels are so much higher than my own that I cannot join them in their current missions.
So for friends, I just start over. And over. And over again.
But for the time being, I am much happier embracing life…
And Unemployment.
Over and Out,
Adam
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
How Cel-Animation May Survive: A Review of "Sinbad: the Legend of the Seven Seas"
Dreamworks has taken over for Disney in my idea of what an animated film should be. True, Dreamworks is responsible for a number of strictly CGI films, their Cel-animated movies are actually quite impressive. My favorite has to be Sinbad, so far.
Now before I get slammed for the amount of CGI in this film, let me say this:
I once saw this movie receive a meager 2 stars. I’d like to sucker-slap that guy. This movie has slick dialogue, even slicker animation, wonderful voice acting by Pitt and Jones, and good, rounded storytelling. Dreamworks’ animation crew packs a nice punch with this film, and their synthesis of CGI and Cel animation proves it. A lot of studios use CGI as a band-aid for choppier animation, but this melds the two smooth as glass. The CG is textured to fit the surrounding Cel, so although audiences’ eyes are well-trained to pick out CG from Cel, they work well enough together that we don’t care.
True, many of the sequences are computer-generated, but the CG is cel-shaded, which is a technique more animation studios should implement (or have been), and allows an echo of cel artistry to the smoother textures (which also provides some nice eye-candy).
But enough about the animation (as awesome as it is), and on to the story. Sinbad, a pirate and all-around scoundrel, must retrieve the mystic Book of Peace from Aris (goddess of chaos and discord – don’t care if I didn’t spell it right) in Tartarus in order to save his life-long friend Proteus from doom in his own kingdom in Syracuse. Still with me? To complicate matters, Proteus’ promised wife (Catherine Zeta-Jones), Marina, stows away on Sinbad’s vessel to make sure he does the job. Aris, recognizing that Sinbad will actually follow through with his heroics, sends a slew of enchantments and creatures to stop him.
To all parties, the ensuing antics make sense, and each character, no matter how small, has their own quirks. You have two Asian brothers constantly betting on various outcomes in almost every event. Their words are in the background, but are imbued with genuine wit and timing. Dialogue between Sinbad, Marina, and Cale, Sinbad’s sort of skipper, are also teeming with realistic qualities. Sinbad and Marina argue like a married couple, Cale and Sinbad speak like old friends who have been through a lot and know what the other is always thinking. I flesh that out because I easily felt those impressions from the dialogue. It isn’t that it was complex or simple, it just was real. The dialogue made sense in every situation. Too many cartoons (hell, too many movies) have dialogue spackled with flatness (uh…Star Wars) and little depth that you could read between the lines with. To really get what I mean, just watch the movie.
And finally, a few words about the music. Harry Gregson-Williams goes solo here, and offers up a fine orchestral score that has well-placed character themes and over-archs. Though the only stand-alone pieces are the main titles and Aris’ theme, Williams sets the mood nicely. I was never distracted by the music from the action on screen, and that is a good thing. Too often, bad movies use good composers as Elmer’s glue, trying desperately to hold their movie together. Sinbad is not one of those movies. The composer and the animation go hand in hand seamlessly, and the end result is wonderful.
Lastly, this movie is FUN. It’s great even if you hate cartoons. The action is well-choreographed, has surreal physics, and is just plain enjoyable, not to mention pleasing to the eye. And above all, the story's pacing and execution is top-notch. You will never be bored with this movie (unless you're a prick).
I’m buying the DVD.
Over and Out,
Adam
Now before I get slammed for the amount of CGI in this film, let me say this:
I once saw this movie receive a meager 2 stars. I’d like to sucker-slap that guy. This movie has slick dialogue, even slicker animation, wonderful voice acting by Pitt and Jones, and good, rounded storytelling. Dreamworks’ animation crew packs a nice punch with this film, and their synthesis of CGI and Cel animation proves it. A lot of studios use CGI as a band-aid for choppier animation, but this melds the two smooth as glass. The CG is textured to fit the surrounding Cel, so although audiences’ eyes are well-trained to pick out CG from Cel, they work well enough together that we don’t care.
True, many of the sequences are computer-generated, but the CG is cel-shaded, which is a technique more animation studios should implement (or have been), and allows an echo of cel artistry to the smoother textures (which also provides some nice eye-candy).
But enough about the animation (as awesome as it is), and on to the story. Sinbad, a pirate and all-around scoundrel, must retrieve the mystic Book of Peace from Aris (goddess of chaos and discord – don’t care if I didn’t spell it right) in Tartarus in order to save his life-long friend Proteus from doom in his own kingdom in Syracuse. Still with me? To complicate matters, Proteus’ promised wife (Catherine Zeta-Jones), Marina, stows away on Sinbad’s vessel to make sure he does the job. Aris, recognizing that Sinbad will actually follow through with his heroics, sends a slew of enchantments and creatures to stop him.
To all parties, the ensuing antics make sense, and each character, no matter how small, has their own quirks. You have two Asian brothers constantly betting on various outcomes in almost every event. Their words are in the background, but are imbued with genuine wit and timing. Dialogue between Sinbad, Marina, and Cale, Sinbad’s sort of skipper, are also teeming with realistic qualities. Sinbad and Marina argue like a married couple, Cale and Sinbad speak like old friends who have been through a lot and know what the other is always thinking. I flesh that out because I easily felt those impressions from the dialogue. It isn’t that it was complex or simple, it just was real. The dialogue made sense in every situation. Too many cartoons (hell, too many movies) have dialogue spackled with flatness (uh…Star Wars) and little depth that you could read between the lines with. To really get what I mean, just watch the movie.
And finally, a few words about the music. Harry Gregson-Williams goes solo here, and offers up a fine orchestral score that has well-placed character themes and over-archs. Though the only stand-alone pieces are the main titles and Aris’ theme, Williams sets the mood nicely. I was never distracted by the music from the action on screen, and that is a good thing. Too often, bad movies use good composers as Elmer’s glue, trying desperately to hold their movie together. Sinbad is not one of those movies. The composer and the animation go hand in hand seamlessly, and the end result is wonderful.
Lastly, this movie is FUN. It’s great even if you hate cartoons. The action is well-choreographed, has surreal physics, and is just plain enjoyable, not to mention pleasing to the eye. And above all, the story's pacing and execution is top-notch. You will never be bored with this movie (unless you're a prick).
I’m buying the DVD.
Over and Out,
Adam
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
The Art of the Curse Word
(This is a tweaked version, with a bit less rant and more support, of my LiveJournal post)
I remember when I would not swear for the life of me. Probably because my mother would abuse me if ever she heard even the mildest of curses. "Crap" was a swear, Dang It. I even remember when Dork was a sufficient insult. It was only fifteen years ago, I'm not THAT old. But then came the day in sixth grade...when I lost it. All caution, all resolve, my equanimity was shattered as flicked off every person I knew. A torrent of curses, hexes, and swears tore from my lips, composed on the fly, to assault, accost, and affront all those around me. And I did this in an almost giddy manner, as if suddenly I was free to express whatever had been held inside. These horrible things that came from the bowels of my existence, unloaded like a juvenile Eminem pissed off at all things living.
And at the end of the day (yes, this lasted but a day), such a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, as if I had taken a long-awaited step into the "I ain't takin' shit from nobody" attitude... Yet I was still dutifully flagellated for the rest of my Middle School career by a few choice people (more on that later).
The reason I mention this experience is because also at the end of the day, my lips felt stale, as if I had exhausted my entire vocabulary associated with ire. It was like I would/could never be irascible again, because I would have no comeback. I had lost my power, my words had lost their power, and that is a painful realization.
Which is why there is an art to cussing.
It is a careful, calculating section of the human language. If used too much, its entire existence could be jeopardized. If used too little (like my case most of the time), the reaction changes to that of surprise, and it is no longer powerful. The key, then, is in moderation; choice moderation. I believe one must choose a word, and use it upon choice occasions.
For my brother, it is the word "Damn", or more often, "Damn It". This he says barely under his breath, but my ears have been trained to hear it. You hear him and you know from that very utterance, that he is pissed. And the wrath is turned entirely inward, but you can FEEL it radiating from him. And these are words thrown around, especially in college, without a care in the world, but here, slipping just under a whisper, I get goosebumps.
My brother rarely swears, and when he does, it is quietly, but the sheer amount of times (which is very minute) he says it strengthens its effect dramatically.
I think one of the major issues is that we swear too much in casual conversation. Swears, instead of being expressions of anger, have become Filler Words, synominous with words like: Uh, um, (pause), LIKE, hmm, eh, mm-kay. This...is a tad bit dumb, if you ask me. An actual curse word is meant to have weight to it, so that when you say "God Damn It!" it MEANS something.
Text messaging confuddles the situation further. Phrases like OMG, LMAO, BRB, FU are just...weak. Usually I would use a longer word to describe this... but that is just weak, dude. I never use OMG, because it means, duh, Oh My God, which is a phrase I only use on extremely rare occasions...like when I mean it! But when people use it to show that they're surprised, they would sound so much more intelligent by typing, "I'm surprised (or better yet, flabbergasted!).” Language is a beautiful thing, use it!
Though I sometimes fall into uses of text messaging as much as the next guy, it doesn't stop me from feeling a little lazy. As if we just don't have enough time to simply communicate anymore. That if we don't save those precious half-seconds that would be consumed by typing three words instead of three letters, that we might not be able to Tivo our shows, or play our video games, or do whatever else we do...to procrastinate (aka Waste Time). Hmm, anybody see something strange about this logic?
But I digress, what I am at is that the overuse of these words has left them without depth. Add contractions to the mix, and a conversation can become nothing more than a slurred mess of meaningless palaver. Cusses, without strength or timing behind them, hold no more value than the next teenage abundance of “Like.” And in most cases, there is ample room in the conversation for intelligence. With swears being thrown around to mean so many different things, I am thankful for words that can actually serve their meanings and are available for my use to describe exactly what I am feeling.
It is different for each individual to discover when it is appropriate to swear and to communicate. There are some extremely striking words in the human language, and if you don't abuse some, we'll have a chance to delve into others. Forget the whales, save our curse words. If we can succeed in returning the strength to our curse words, maybe we can save the rest of our language.
Over and Out,
Adam
PS: I think Fuck is a lost cause. It is no longer a powerful word. Saying it multiple times in a sentence only seeks to degrade the speaker. "Can you not think of anything else to say? You indolent moron?" Fuck just means too many things. It's a multipurpose word. Did you ever like the Multipurpose Room in school? No, mine was covered in Geometric, neon-colored shapes, and it was always dusty. Or better yet, it is the slut word. It does everything. I don't like using something where I DO KNOW all the places its been, and I don't want to go there myself. That is one word that can never be sterilized.
Ever.
I remember when I would not swear for the life of me. Probably because my mother would abuse me if ever she heard even the mildest of curses. "Crap" was a swear, Dang It. I even remember when Dork was a sufficient insult. It was only fifteen years ago, I'm not THAT old. But then came the day in sixth grade...when I lost it. All caution, all resolve, my equanimity was shattered as flicked off every person I knew. A torrent of curses, hexes, and swears tore from my lips, composed on the fly, to assault, accost, and affront all those around me. And I did this in an almost giddy manner, as if suddenly I was free to express whatever had been held inside. These horrible things that came from the bowels of my existence, unloaded like a juvenile Eminem pissed off at all things living.
And at the end of the day (yes, this lasted but a day), such a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, as if I had taken a long-awaited step into the "I ain't takin' shit from nobody" attitude... Yet I was still dutifully flagellated for the rest of my Middle School career by a few choice people (more on that later).
The reason I mention this experience is because also at the end of the day, my lips felt stale, as if I had exhausted my entire vocabulary associated with ire. It was like I would/could never be irascible again, because I would have no comeback. I had lost my power, my words had lost their power, and that is a painful realization.
Which is why there is an art to cussing.
It is a careful, calculating section of the human language. If used too much, its entire existence could be jeopardized. If used too little (like my case most of the time), the reaction changes to that of surprise, and it is no longer powerful. The key, then, is in moderation; choice moderation. I believe one must choose a word, and use it upon choice occasions.
For my brother, it is the word "Damn", or more often, "Damn It". This he says barely under his breath, but my ears have been trained to hear it. You hear him and you know from that very utterance, that he is pissed. And the wrath is turned entirely inward, but you can FEEL it radiating from him. And these are words thrown around, especially in college, without a care in the world, but here, slipping just under a whisper, I get goosebumps.
My brother rarely swears, and when he does, it is quietly, but the sheer amount of times (which is very minute) he says it strengthens its effect dramatically.
I think one of the major issues is that we swear too much in casual conversation. Swears, instead of being expressions of anger, have become Filler Words, synominous with words like: Uh, um, (pause), LIKE, hmm, eh, mm-kay. This...is a tad bit dumb, if you ask me. An actual curse word is meant to have weight to it, so that when you say "God Damn It!" it MEANS something.
Text messaging confuddles the situation further. Phrases like OMG, LMAO, BRB, FU are just...weak. Usually I would use a longer word to describe this... but that is just weak, dude. I never use OMG, because it means, duh, Oh My God, which is a phrase I only use on extremely rare occasions...like when I mean it! But when people use it to show that they're surprised, they would sound so much more intelligent by typing, "I'm surprised (or better yet, flabbergasted!).” Language is a beautiful thing, use it!
Though I sometimes fall into uses of text messaging as much as the next guy, it doesn't stop me from feeling a little lazy. As if we just don't have enough time to simply communicate anymore. That if we don't save those precious half-seconds that would be consumed by typing three words instead of three letters, that we might not be able to Tivo our shows, or play our video games, or do whatever else we do...to procrastinate (aka Waste Time). Hmm, anybody see something strange about this logic?
But I digress, what I am at is that the overuse of these words has left them without depth. Add contractions to the mix, and a conversation can become nothing more than a slurred mess of meaningless palaver. Cusses, without strength or timing behind them, hold no more value than the next teenage abundance of “Like.” And in most cases, there is ample room in the conversation for intelligence. With swears being thrown around to mean so many different things, I am thankful for words that can actually serve their meanings and are available for my use to describe exactly what I am feeling.
It is different for each individual to discover when it is appropriate to swear and to communicate. There are some extremely striking words in the human language, and if you don't abuse some, we'll have a chance to delve into others. Forget the whales, save our curse words. If we can succeed in returning the strength to our curse words, maybe we can save the rest of our language.
Over and Out,
Adam
PS: I think Fuck is a lost cause. It is no longer a powerful word. Saying it multiple times in a sentence only seeks to degrade the speaker. "Can you not think of anything else to say? You indolent moron?" Fuck just means too many things. It's a multipurpose word. Did you ever like the Multipurpose Room in school? No, mine was covered in Geometric, neon-colored shapes, and it was always dusty. Or better yet, it is the slut word. It does everything. I don't like using something where I DO KNOW all the places its been, and I don't want to go there myself. That is one word that can never be sterilized.
Ever.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Anime: A definition
How does one properly define the term "Anime?"
This question arises because yesterday I could have undoubtedly made an ass of myself or opened up a colossal can of flesh-eating worms just by referring to Avatar as NOT being an anime.
In the forums, this has caused a myriad of passionate results attempting to teach me what an anime really is. Pardon my ignorance, but I thought Anime was short for Japanimation, which is short for Japanese Animation, which then entails all animation animated and produced in Japan, in Japanese usually, and then when it is often purchased, dubbed, or subtitled (actually, it is almost always subtitled in the beginning) and brought to other countries, like the US, is it thrust into the term of an Anime by the populace. True, it is called Anime in Japan as well, but it seems that "Anime" is the only word we Americans use to describe this animation.
Now, the majority of what comes overseas, excluding shows like Hamtaro and similar bouts of entertainment, are action-oriented. What stems from this is an assumption that all things anime are action-oriented animation. With the Anime craze, more and more animators are drawing with Japanese-style influence. So now, American cartoons are looking like Anime. And to some people, they become Anime.
This vociferously irks me, because now the term has changed to encompass all animation, regardless of whether it's American, Japanese, British, or whatever. Now, not only action sometimes, but ALL animation is, in some areas, is being referred to as Anime. The main reason this incurs my wrath is that the definition is ineffable. We, as a people, have no idea what Anime is anymore. To some people, it is Japanese animation. To others, it is X-Men: Evolution (which is an American cartoon). To more, still, it is the entire block of shows that they consider horrible.
Because of the surplus of infantile and piqued Anime that Networks have purchased, dubbed, and flooded the airwaves with, it is becoming more and more difficult to find the shows that are original and artistic, and worth the time to view. The ones that attach to us, and we to them. These diamonds in the rough have become so elusive now that it is difficult to decipher quality out of quantity.
And it's when good shows like Avatar, Justice League, and Oh My Goddess, and Cowboy Bebop, get clumped together with the crap that has taken over FoxKids, and the WB, sometimes, even Cartoon Network (but only on extremely rare occasions...the YuGiOh movie...dear God). I feel like Nickelodeon is the only saving grace at this point, because I haven't seen an Anime yet on their Network. Everything they do, is theirs.
What is happening is a synthesis of animation styles. See, the Japanese have been animating under the clock, and know how do it fast and cheap, for years. That's why there are so many shows. And a lot...are there to sell toys. But also a lot are there to tell stories. They've been good at both. Also a fair number are dedicated to both sides of the spectrum: infants, and horny old men, but I won't get into that. My point is that the Japanese animation industry has been operating, more often than not, under low cost conditions, they are damn good at it.
Excellent, powerful, still images, where they only animate 3-4 frames of hair animation and speed up or slow down the frame rate to simulate wind currents. Painting a mural and panning the camera across it while adding plane audio for movement. Animating only the mouths of a character in a cycle of 2-3 frames, so that ANY voice actor could speak through that character. They know all the tricks of the trade. And some of the best anime in existence was made under those conditions.
However, I love smooth animation and I love the boldness of Japanese animation, which is why Miyazaki is my hero. His films are all about fluidity of movement, realism of characters, imaginative worlds, and telling a story through details, instead of an over-arching theme. Japanese films, with certain exceptions (Yugi), are often much more dedicated to animation quality, for they have a better budget to work with, thus more frames, smoother frame rate, less recycled frames.
American animation, cartoons, has had a long history of...Kidsie stuff. I grew up on Disney, but everything after Tarzan is a little disappointing (Pixar omitted obviously). Some of the best animators, lyricists, and composers in the world were a part of Disney, then, all of a sudden, the magic was gone. That's a movie example. For a long time, Disney was the forerunner in animated film (especially American). We also had our share of action cartoons, most based on comics (X-Men, Spiderman. GI Joe). But then, we grew up on Talespin, Darkwing Duck, Bobby's World, Ninja Turtles, even Gargoyles [more on that later]. True, they were predictable and juvenile (most of them), but there was/is a difference in the techniques and style.
Cartoons usually have a very fast pace. I watched an episode of Ninja Turtles (the old one) a few days ago, and noticed how quickly they move from scene to scene. There are less long pauses, more dialogue, a lot of times trying to be witty or comment on current events, more movement during dialogue, and sometimes sacrificing quality of still art for just an extra frame of movement. The characters were more, seemingly, alive. That they acted, instead of just being looked upon and watching their mouths move. In shows like Batman (the WB animation, before KidsWB took over the style) the episodes had marvelous pacing, theme, dialogue; they were exquisite, and showed a keen sense of what it meant to tell a story episode by episode, so that each episode could stand on its own.
Now, American artists are using the Japanese tricks of the trade, and implementing their own. Some make nods to famous styles of Japanimation while holding their own (Teen Titans), but others stray entirely to choppy movement throughout, glitchy frame rates, and they forget where they came from, trying to leap onto the bandwagon that has already left (in my opinion, Totally Spies). It is the ones that split the difference between Cartoon and Anime. Both styles I consider eutectic; they are easily fused. The animators that complete the fusion and keep their originality (Samurai Jack, for one) are the ones keeping up with the change of interests and will not be swept away in the wake of half-assed shows and money-grubbing producing (the purchase of Anime and the cost of dubbing is much cheaper than being original).
Avatar is one of these things. It maintains its heart, and it mixes multiple styles from multiple cultures, and thus it becomes something else. Something different. Something...simple.
An ANIMATION.
For other good examples, look up Danny Phantom, Justice League Unlimited, and the Batman.
PS: though I did not define Anime in any clear way, I intend to in the future. Thanks for reading, comments are always appreciated, especially if enlightening.
This question arises because yesterday I could have undoubtedly made an ass of myself or opened up a colossal can of flesh-eating worms just by referring to Avatar as NOT being an anime.
In the forums, this has caused a myriad of passionate results attempting to teach me what an anime really is. Pardon my ignorance, but I thought Anime was short for Japanimation, which is short for Japanese Animation, which then entails all animation animated and produced in Japan, in Japanese usually, and then when it is often purchased, dubbed, or subtitled (actually, it is almost always subtitled in the beginning) and brought to other countries, like the US, is it thrust into the term of an Anime by the populace. True, it is called Anime in Japan as well, but it seems that "Anime" is the only word we Americans use to describe this animation.
Now, the majority of what comes overseas, excluding shows like Hamtaro and similar bouts of entertainment, are action-oriented. What stems from this is an assumption that all things anime are action-oriented animation. With the Anime craze, more and more animators are drawing with Japanese-style influence. So now, American cartoons are looking like Anime. And to some people, they become Anime.
This vociferously irks me, because now the term has changed to encompass all animation, regardless of whether it's American, Japanese, British, or whatever. Now, not only action sometimes, but ALL animation is, in some areas, is being referred to as Anime. The main reason this incurs my wrath is that the definition is ineffable. We, as a people, have no idea what Anime is anymore. To some people, it is Japanese animation. To others, it is X-Men: Evolution (which is an American cartoon). To more, still, it is the entire block of shows that they consider horrible.
Because of the surplus of infantile and piqued Anime that Networks have purchased, dubbed, and flooded the airwaves with, it is becoming more and more difficult to find the shows that are original and artistic, and worth the time to view. The ones that attach to us, and we to them. These diamonds in the rough have become so elusive now that it is difficult to decipher quality out of quantity.
And it's when good shows like Avatar, Justice League, and Oh My Goddess, and Cowboy Bebop, get clumped together with the crap that has taken over FoxKids, and the WB, sometimes, even Cartoon Network (but only on extremely rare occasions...the YuGiOh movie...dear God). I feel like Nickelodeon is the only saving grace at this point, because I haven't seen an Anime yet on their Network. Everything they do, is theirs.
What is happening is a synthesis of animation styles. See, the Japanese have been animating under the clock, and know how do it fast and cheap, for years. That's why there are so many shows. And a lot...are there to sell toys. But also a lot are there to tell stories. They've been good at both. Also a fair number are dedicated to both sides of the spectrum: infants, and horny old men, but I won't get into that. My point is that the Japanese animation industry has been operating, more often than not, under low cost conditions, they are damn good at it.
Excellent, powerful, still images, where they only animate 3-4 frames of hair animation and speed up or slow down the frame rate to simulate wind currents. Painting a mural and panning the camera across it while adding plane audio for movement. Animating only the mouths of a character in a cycle of 2-3 frames, so that ANY voice actor could speak through that character. They know all the tricks of the trade. And some of the best anime in existence was made under those conditions.
However, I love smooth animation and I love the boldness of Japanese animation, which is why Miyazaki is my hero. His films are all about fluidity of movement, realism of characters, imaginative worlds, and telling a story through details, instead of an over-arching theme. Japanese films, with certain exceptions (Yugi), are often much more dedicated to animation quality, for they have a better budget to work with, thus more frames, smoother frame rate, less recycled frames.
American animation, cartoons, has had a long history of...Kidsie stuff. I grew up on Disney, but everything after Tarzan is a little disappointing (Pixar omitted obviously). Some of the best animators, lyricists, and composers in the world were a part of Disney, then, all of a sudden, the magic was gone. That's a movie example. For a long time, Disney was the forerunner in animated film (especially American). We also had our share of action cartoons, most based on comics (X-Men, Spiderman. GI Joe). But then, we grew up on Talespin, Darkwing Duck, Bobby's World, Ninja Turtles, even Gargoyles [more on that later]. True, they were predictable and juvenile (most of them), but there was/is a difference in the techniques and style.
Cartoons usually have a very fast pace. I watched an episode of Ninja Turtles (the old one) a few days ago, and noticed how quickly they move from scene to scene. There are less long pauses, more dialogue, a lot of times trying to be witty or comment on current events, more movement during dialogue, and sometimes sacrificing quality of still art for just an extra frame of movement. The characters were more, seemingly, alive. That they acted, instead of just being looked upon and watching their mouths move. In shows like Batman (the WB animation, before KidsWB took over the style) the episodes had marvelous pacing, theme, dialogue; they were exquisite, and showed a keen sense of what it meant to tell a story episode by episode, so that each episode could stand on its own.
Now, American artists are using the Japanese tricks of the trade, and implementing their own. Some make nods to famous styles of Japanimation while holding their own (Teen Titans), but others stray entirely to choppy movement throughout, glitchy frame rates, and they forget where they came from, trying to leap onto the bandwagon that has already left (in my opinion, Totally Spies). It is the ones that split the difference between Cartoon and Anime. Both styles I consider eutectic; they are easily fused. The animators that complete the fusion and keep their originality (Samurai Jack, for one) are the ones keeping up with the change of interests and will not be swept away in the wake of half-assed shows and money-grubbing producing (the purchase of Anime and the cost of dubbing is much cheaper than being original).
Avatar is one of these things. It maintains its heart, and it mixes multiple styles from multiple cultures, and thus it becomes something else. Something different. Something...simple.
An ANIMATION.
For other good examples, look up Danny Phantom, Justice League Unlimited, and the Batman.
PS: though I did not define Anime in any clear way, I intend to in the future. Thanks for reading, comments are always appreciated, especially if enlightening.
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