Now What? - Pessimism and the American Dream

I’m a semester away from graduating college and yet, in the past few months, I’ve constantly fantasized about dropping out.

This wouldn’t be the first time I thought it would be a good idea to give up on something I’ve invested much time and money into. There’s been two classes that I’ve failed in school because I became terrified of turning in an awful paper. One day of skipping class became avoiding class for the rest of the semester. Professors are usually baffled when this happens as they expect something better from me. So what happens that leads to me giving up?

For the past few months, I have taken a voluntary leave of absence from college. The first month was practically like winter break. My brother and I watched hours and hours of anime and I was excited to bring some of my scripts to life. Two weeks later, as soon as I realized that nobody could help me while I was in LA, any kind of enthusiasm I had slowly died off and I resigned myself to believe I was out of ideas. It’s now March and the only project I’ve been able to work on consistently is the podcast.

Since January, days begin when I’m willing to crawl out of bed, make a very cheaply-prepared breakfast, and check Reddit and Twitter for 2 hours before I take another nap. Sometimes I get a lot of work done, sometimes I don’t. I’ve been working on a pitch for the Moth podcast and begun production on a comedy short. It’s not unusual for there to be a 1-2 week gap between work days. After filming something, I tell myself that I’ll take out the camera again the next day and do the next collection of shots. What actually happens is that the camera stays snuggled in its bag, and I go to sleep regretting not getting any work done. It’s been like this for three straight months.

Since I graduated from high school, I’ve been struggling with low self-esteem issues and depressive episodes, making it feel impossible to maintain a positive perspective on a daily basis. I’m always afraid that I could become such an overbearing burden to my family that they will distance themselves from me as the black sheep, as the disgraceful failure. Being “unemployed" has only exacerbated these thoughts.

Is it simply having a job and spending time out of the house that will satisfy me? No, it’s being financially secure. I’ve made the questionable decision to study filmmaking and guarantee to be in relative obscurity for 10 years despite the constant gratification filmmaking gives me. However, there’s another problem with being a filmmaker: no guarantee of financial security. I’m part of the second generation of my family living in the United States. My parents have told me for most of my life that I’m intelligent and determined enough to guarantee they can one day live comfortably retired and that my little brother won’t have any difficulties paying for his college education. They deserve that break but that’s an unquestionable amount of pressure they’ve placed on me. It also doesn’t help that I grew up chasing the idea of the American Dream.

To me, the American Dream is owning a 2-story house, a respectable place you can call your home. As of now, I know nothing about mortgages or anything else about the housing market. What I do know is that owning a home means you have some kind of money. It’s too much to ask yourself to own a 2-story house that quickly after graduating from college but from my upbringing, owning a 2-story house meant you succeeded in the world. You can take care of yourself and, maybe, your children. I’d like to rent an apartment eventually, maybe a year after graduating, but in the back of my mind, as I look at my ferns and sit on my IKEA couch, I’ll tell myself, “this isn’t my 2-story house. I’ve done everything wrong. I’m a failure.” If fervently chasing the American Dream is demonstrated with hard work, perseverance, and confidence, then why have I hesitated in finding a real part-time job for this much time?

Fear.

Fear of being a failure. Fear of disappointing your entire family. Fear of losing the respect of my friends and peers. Fear of dying alone. Fear of not being funny enough for a stupid comedy short no one will watch. Fear of being a homeless drunk licking the streets for nutrients. Fear and fear alone is what paralyzes me and restricts me into the warm embrace of my comfortable bed. Fear is what kept my camera in my bag the day after I tried filming something. Fear is what kept me from telling my brother, my mother, and anyone reading this about my deep-seated troubles for this much time. 

In order to begin living my life the way I want to live it, I have to shut down any negativity I’ve ever had, and push away any fear I’ve ever had. That means thinking positively, starting today and maintaining that for the rest of my life. How do I do that?

...

Back to square one.

Here’s a Kirby Gourmet Race remix with Stone Cold Steve Austin. 

Vid originally by Mowtendoo

I was inspired to write this after listening to this episode of This American Life, about a group of public high school students who visited a private high school for the first time: http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/550/three-miles 

It’s the first time in a long time that I feel like I’ve gotten some sense of direction. Now to see if I can maintain it...

NW? - Departure

The College Student: Concentration

The idea for this short came up when I was trying to work on an essay for one of my classes. I usually listen to video game soundtracks to keep me focused on these suffocating assignments. One time, I was listening to a mix of music from various Nintendo games and soon as I heard Moo Moo Farm from Mario Kart 64, I had to take 2 minutes of my time to dance like an idiot. The child-like energy came by really suddenly and left just as quickly. 

I sat on the idea of making a zany short where you see me become euphoric when the music starts playing but I wasn’t sure if the idea had enough substance. On my desk are two toys from my childhood: A Woody doll I bought for $2 at a garage sale and a Sonic toy I bought at a comic book convention in 8th grade. I’ve brought these toys for every single semester of college but because of various life distractions and obligations, all they have ever done is stand awkwardly against a wall or on my alarm clock. They were just what I needed to make the short work. 

The original idea had the College Student(CS) character dive quickly into madness with the music playing although the space around him would reflect on his bleak lifestyle, with brief shots of an unmade bed, debris all over the room, and in hindsight, a depressing shot of someone texting him “STOP CALLING ME”. The original ending cuts from CS leaping in the air with his toys to a medium shot of the back of his head intently typing on the desk, with subsequent shots showing how isolated he is from everything else, and how the toys he interacted with are nowhere to be found. I shared this concept with one of my suite-mates who was worried about how I always injected depression in everything I work on and was troubled by how depression was the punchline of the short.

I retooled the entire idea and tried to maintain a purely comedic tone, making sure that filming the short was as loose and fun as possible. Because of how silly the idea is, I wasn’t completely sure if I was going to follow through with it, especially since the semester's almost over. It was exactly that realization that caused me to take action since, in the past, waiting guaranteed failure. I certainly felt more relaxed filming this than any other project since the focus was on having fun, and I hope that is displayed in the short. I also gave myself some technical challenges to deal with such as making sure the edits were rhythmically in tune with the song and that I was able to have all three of us (Sonic, Woody, and I) onscreen for the penultimate shot. My biggest challenge, though, was pushing down my pretentious filmmaking attitude and telling myself, “Don’t take this seriously. This is supposed to be silly.”

This is, perhaps, the most fun I’ve had working on a project in a long time.  Completing this has already got me excited to write and film more ideas, including a shelved idea that I think deserves a second chance. I won’t mention what it is since it’s better to receive surprises (and it puts less pressure on me). Although I do act like an idiot in the short, I wanted to make sure that this could make anyone in the college community, CWRU or otherwise, suffering through projects and exams take a breather for a short while. We don’t have to take everything so goddamn seriously all the time. Sometimes, we just need to play with our toys.

Music was created by YouTube user Bulby. His channel is filled with fantastic remixes of classic video game music and he even has has his own EP, Bite the Bullet, on his Bandcamp page. Check him out when you've got the chance!

"Mental" Notes: Nothing's Happened to You Yet!!

"Mental" Notes is a bimillenial column that features specific ideas I've had that can't be fleshed out into a full short story/short film/blog post. On certain posts, it's almost meant to be a public brainstorming forum. This post was originally thought up as a continuation to the Now What? series.

I wanted to continue Now What? as a way to update all of you on my life as it was happening and as it was going so far. But as I started writing this post, I found that I had a very angsty/bitchy tone to what I originally thought was insightful. In fact, even the opening I was intending to use now seems very pretentious in hindsight. Although halfway through it, I acknowledged my dismissive atttitude and made fun of it in the end, I thought the post itself was too short and that it needed more depth before I was willing to post it. As it turned out, however, during the summer I wrote this, I accomplished many, many things which make this post, for me at least, very outdated. As I looked over this again to revise as a "Mental" Note, I also realized that I misquoted Louis CK's joke about 20 year olds, and that nearly derailed the entire point of the post. I'm finally posting this, exactly as I typed it almost a year ago, so that I can finally put it to rest and focus on other things...hint, hint. Questions/comments are always welcome!  

 

I am twenty years old, a fourth of the way to the promised land. This has been the most profound statement I've made this year. I have recently completed my second year in college and am now a junior.

Becoming 20 years old should feel like a profound moment filled with truth and responsibility but that should exemplify as to how naive I am if I think becoming older is equivalent to gaining life experience.

I constantly feel imprisoned in "my" own home, and I always think that life continues going on repeat; every day my man-boobs become more developed, my eyeballs more agile due to constant stimulation from the internet.

But every time I come up with complaints about how life is going, the words of Louis CK emanate in my brain, "Nothing's happened to you!" 

Louis CK: Live at Carnegie Hall (20 Year Olds)

Yes, nothing has happened to me. In fact, at this point, life has never been so fucking pleasant. There is very little conflict between all of my family members due to my parents' separation, my brother is doing well in school, I am fulfilling my parents' dream of going to college, getting an education, getting a job, retiring comfortably, and rotting in the ground.

I am a terrible example of Louis CK's very poignant statement regarding the young, how we seem to entitle ourselves beyond everyone else and can only be satisfied with our own lives if our goals have been met. If any complaint I make can be easily solved by effort, I have no reason to complain ever again. But if my brother beats me in another Mario Party session, I will fucking kill everything. Because life sucks. Man.

Thanks for reaching the bottom. I have both a YouTube channel and a Vimeo channel. I'm also on Twitter and Tumblr. If you like being continuously annoyed by extremely obvious hints about future posts, join the RS Facebook group for updates and info on my projects. Take care, everyone!

Security in The Exorcist: A Disruption of the Domestic Ideal

Video from user ryy79

 Originally written on March 7, 2013.

Before we begin, I should mention that the previous essay on Early Summer was a similar assignment in format and content. Basically, we had to examine a continuous 3-5 minute scene and, using the film as evidence, formulate an argument about the entire film that the scene represents. I took a class on the Horror Film, hence why the trailer above is for The Exorcist, the "scariest film of all time." Before watching this movie, I did hesitate in watching it (again and again) for the purposes of a paper, mostly because of the infamous maze game (not the actual video) that rewarded its players with an extreme closeup of the possessed child. To me, The Exorcist was basically this image for 75 minutes. After finally watching the film, I found it to be one of the more forgiving horror films I've seen. Let me explain. Unlike the original 1974 release of the Texas Chain Saw Massacre, which from beginning to end, induced a relentless mood of dread and grotesqueness, The Exorcist frightened you for one minute then had 5 minutes of exposition, allowing the viewer to process the previous scenes more easily. During the brainstorming process for this essay, I thought about interpreting the film as a metaphor for puberty, but upon realizing how little I know about pre-teen girls in that age, I thought about how the film relegates the "monster"(Linda Blair), if we wish to call her that, into a single location that the other characters, specifically the mother (Ellen Bursytn), has to constantly return to throughout the film, making me consider the film's subtle critique about the security of the household. Without a doubt, however, The Exorcist is one of the most disturbing films ever made and if you can look beyond that creepy face, you might enjoy this horror classic.  

       The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973) in the guise of being a typical horror film, is also a reinterpretation of the creature, established in early horror cinema, as a contained beast. In the film, a young 12-year old girl suddenly becomes more aggressive, violent and profane much to the concern of her distressed mother. The film introduces a conflicting dynamic with the mother locking her daughter in her room, always coming to her daughter's aid when she desperately needs it but becoming more and more horrified at what her daughter is becoming. The issue of security in the household is demonstrated in The Exorcist via from the film's display of the safe home.
       The scene [10:27-12:25] opens with an extreme long shot of the city of Georgetown and the sound of a plane flying overhead. The camera zooms in to one of the many buildings in Georgetown as we hear car honks and kids playing nearby. We then cut to Chris's room where she has turned on her lamp and hears a noise. Chris puts on her orange robe over her white nightgown and walks to the banister. She hears the noise again, and a low angle shot shows Chris assuming the noise is from the attic. She opens the door to her daughter Regan's room and from a POV shot, we see Regan sleeping and the window open. The camera then slowly tracks Chris as she closes the window, approaches Regan's bed, and kisses her daughter on the forehead, telling Regan that she loves her.
       The film presents the ideal of a secure community and establishes the risks present in giving too much confidence in it. In the establishing shot of Georgetown [10:27-10:50] we are introduced to a more pleasant and familiar setting of houses rounding out the block. With this brief glimpse, we get the feeling of how diverse and historical the city is with large mansions peeking out in the background and a tall clock tower that is barely visible from the hazy sky. We also see the cars are traveling at just the right speed, almost as though the drivers were coordinated and in less of a hurry, a casual drive across the way. As the camera zooms in and tracks Chris' apartment, we hear many of the noises associated with urban life: an airplane zooming, cars honking, buses hissing, and children playing nearby. With the camera zooming in as slowly as possible, it lures the viewer into the peaceful nature of the city and assures us that there is nothing wrong. When Chris goes to her daughter's room, [11:40-11:50], she notices that Regan, wearing a bright yellow pajama, sleeps without the covers on her and tightly holds the pillow close to her, unaware that her room is getting colder. With the window open, we get reminded of the noises of the city, but also notice that they are much louder than before. The city noises are a brief reminder of the numerous threats that exists from outside of the window and outside of the home. Regan is left vulnerable to any potential threat and in turn, reminds us of the possibility of intrusion into our own homes. To further validate the idea of false security, Chris, after brushing Regan's hair, appreciatively says, "I sure do love you" and kisses her on the forehead. It is a parental instinct to kiss our loved ones when they get injured or scratched and is an effective placebo although nothing actually changes; the child still has the scratches and the brief trauma of their injury.
        The film utilizes the screen space to begin stirring up dubious feelings about the security of the household. The film constantly pairs up scenes that have noticeable size differences to create a startling effect that keeps the viewer alert. One example is how immediately after zooming in to the house, the film cuts to an extreme close up of the lamp pointing away from us. The film also plays around with space, using very stark shapes to orientate the perspective and direction we intend to look at but the following shot contradicts it. This conflict creates a type of unfamiliarity with the space that unbalances the action-taking place. The film, cutting from a less distant shot to a further one [11:17], also emphasizes the distance between Chris and Regan's room. In this case, it makes it appear longer than it really is, increasing the suspense Chris has as she walks toward the noise, and making it clear that there can be doubt and tension from walking a short distance, even from within a familiar place. In the same shot [11:17], the camera is placed right where two bars of the banister, out of focus, enclose Chris within a space until the camera moves up and tracks Chris' movement, giving the impression that Chris is being watched. After hearing the noise again, Chris becomes much more reserved and ties up her robe, anxiously looking in all directions for the source of the noise. Shortly after [12:01-12:04], Chris walks more hastily to her daughter's room where she has a bit of trouble opening the door.
       Doors, as a form of security, are shown to be a frightening aspect in the movie when it accomplishes the opposite of its intended purpose. After hearing the noise, we cut to an extreme close up of the doorknob [11:03] then cuts right back to Chris. For a brief moment, the film makes it unclear as to which door the doorknob opens and even creates anxiety when it appears that the doorknob jiggles for a split second before the camera goes back to Chris. This accentuates the uncertainty created from a doorknob delaying the viable danger, as it is made very unclear as to when the doorknob shot was intended for and, in this case, being a literal delay from the film allowing Chris to get up and open the door. The door is the only thing dividing Chris and her daughter after Regan becomes possessed later in the film [44:35]. For Chris, her daughter becoming possessed is no different from discovering a burglar has broken into the room as it is an unexpected breach of her indemnity. The door and the window are both meant to keep the characters safe but the film conditions them as potential hazards.
       The window is another example of when security is put into question as to how effective a window can be as a form of protection. The window is meant to protect whoever is inside, but unlike the wooden door, it mostly made of very fragile glass. To the homeowner, the window becomes an illusion of security that is only intended as an aesthetic inclusion that cannot protect the home without reinforcement. In the film, the window is at the opposite side of the door, increasing the tension created from Chris walking across the room to close the window and inspect the room. The moving curtains [12:05] also emphasis another fraudulent form of security as a transparency that appears to make the room more private and disregarding that any stray rock thrown instantly shatters the illusion of a protected house. At the end of the film, Damian, the priest, deliberately dives through the window to stop the devil from possessing him, killing himself in the process [2:01:30-2:02:40].
        A horror film is designed to make the viewer dread the unknown or the misunderstood, whether it is a monster or an abandoned cemetery. The Exorcist, however, considers another potential source for fear, the room where your loved one resides, transformed against their own will. As previously mentioned, the door gradually becomes conditioned as a tense hesitation. However, the film also recognizes how an unstable bond or a lack of understanding within the family can also be a horrific element. For any parent in a caring relationship with their child, nothing could be more terrifying than coping with your loved one's sudden transformation without understanding it. Despite Regan's conversion via the devil's possession, a concerned parent would never regard her or their loved one as a "monster", believing wholeheartedly that their child's innocence is still preserved within. The other question is whether it would be better to strictly enforce the house's security by reducing the connection to the outside world to only the front door or believing the illusion of a protected house if only to get a glimpse of something pleasant outside every now and then.

Works cited:
The Exorcist: The Version You've Never Seen. Dir. William Friedken. Perf. Ellen Burstyn, Max Von Sydow, Linda Blair, Lee J. Cobb. Warner Home Video, 1973. DVD.

Isolation in Early Summer: A Vague Exploration Into Something Dense

Video from YouTube user Alex Post

Originally written on October 25, 2012.  

Part three of a three-part "weekly" series. This was the paper that convinced me to begin this series as it was the first time I remembered that I was enthusiastic throughout the entire process about writing a paper on a movie I didn't expect to love. We were told in our Intro to Film class not to evaluate the movie directly and only make an argumentative assessment as to what the film ultimately means. I can already mention that this will be a difficult film to watch simply because it is not like many of the contemporary films we see nowadays. I can't explain why that is and even after watching the film twice for the paper, I don't think I explained my reaction understandably and why the film had a profound effect on me on how I will approach my projects in the future, much like my masterpiece, Awkward Arley. I will admit that the other reason I'm posting this is because it was the first essay I wrote and turned on time that received an A-. For that achievement alone, I think it is appropriate to post this although it won't make sense to those who have not seen the film, Early Summer. If you have two hours to spare, please watch the movie and give it a chance. It might just surprise you.  

            Early Summer (Yasujiro Ozu, 1951) introduces a different interpretation of the household, distancing it from the saccharine fantasy depicted in many US films and instead presenting something that demands interpretation. The film explores the dynamics of the Mamiya family, all living together in the same house for many years. Although it introduces the family as though they are emotionally close, we begin to understand how there is a disconnect in their understanding of the world and in each other. Not only is there emotional distancing between the different family members but also in the film itself within the visible screen space.
            In the opening sequence [2:31-5:31], a dog runs along the beach just as the waves are rolling in. The waves continue to roll by for a few moments until the film cuts to a bird chirping in a cage. Not long after, the film cuts to birds in two cages, each noticeably distant from the other. Here, we are first introduced to a room of the Mamiya house is devoid of anything except the birdcages and the interior walls. We jump cut to Grandpa making tea in another room and later on to the table where the family is eating breakfast. The film jump cuts to an extreme long shot of the breakfast table, right when Grandpa takes his seat.
            The beach is a constant theme in Early Summer that refers back to isolation. We refer back to the opening scene "[2:31-2:41] where we see the waves approaching the shore where there is a little dog that wanders back and forth along the shoreline until it walks off-screen."  Without any kind of prior knowledge, we are immediately presented with a lone puppy that does not seem to know where it is going. With only the waves rolling by as the only sound we hear, it is an unsettling opening that establishes the tone the rest of the film has with regards to emptying the space and thinking about what is missing. The ocean can also be seen as a meditative device that anchors the viewer into trying to piece together all of the relationships that we are introduced to later on. We get this impression later on when the film shows us "the waves approaching the shore until the film cuts abruptly to a bird in a cage [2:41-2:51]". The ocean becomes an emotional release that simplifies the confusing nature of the film yet also acknowledging how it remains an important element throughout the film. In both ways, the ocean has both observations of isolation: as a potentially dangerous choice or as an occasional necessity. The ocean is represented again "at [1:11:42-1:12:09] when the kids walk along the road, frustrated at their father for not buying their train tracks."  The scene makes us focus on how their thought process isolates them from the adults' and how the kids have knowingly endangered themselves by leaving their home.
            The use of framing in Early Summer is its own unconventional device that further establishes the isolation within the screen space. After the waves, "[3:00-3:08] the film jumps right to the bird cage and has on a match on action shot related to sound as the bird chirping leads to the next shot of the other two bird cages." A striking detail is how one of the cages is shone in the bright light and the other cage is out of focus and covered in darkness. In this brief shot, we notice how the film chooses to keep certain things in and out of focus that at once balances the shot within the frame but also leaves with the impression of a seemingly empty house. The moment is brief but it forces the viewer to look very closely and understand exactly where in the house we currently are. The film repeats this shot only a few moments later when Isamu's brother goes to the hallway to get pickles for Noriko. If it was not for the innocent traditional music that begins playing and establishes the house as a friendly place, this scene would be much more unsettling. As the perspective is shifted at a diagonal perspective and the focus of the frame is on the characters, leaving the defined lines of the entrances and hallways as unusual elements that further distance ourselves from the characters. In the "breakfast scene [4:17-4:30], the camera completely changes direction and opts to have Noriko facing away from the camera", which is a startling moment for a viewer expecting to see both faces. By doing this, we can only imagine what facial expressions Noriko is making even if Noriko's character seems to be a predictably optimistic one from the first sight. What's more unusual is how we do not really know who any of the characters are in the beginning and how we can easily confuse their roles with other characters.
            Unlike contemporary films of this day and age that overuse closeups and extreme closeups to emphasize character interactions, Early Summer challenges the viewer to make our interpretations as to what the family is thinking and doing. Much like the film's opening, we are instantly dropped into the household with few details other than the ones we can assume at first sight.  There's very little camera movement in Early Summer, or at least, very dramatic camera movement such as a tracking shot that follows the characters around. Instead, the film opts for having many cuts of a character entering and leaving rooms but leaving the camera fixed at one point, at a low height and at a straight-on angle. In fact, the camera seems to jump around from room to room and remains fixed in one place although it occasionally moves closer to the characters but only when it seems necessary and does not abuse it as often as contemporary films do nowadays. Likewise, the idea of having separate rooms can be interpreted as individual spaces that further establish the seclusion that is represented in the film. Later on, the camera sits at a low height and begins moving into the room, emphasizing how the film tends to jump around scene to scene once a certain shot has fulfilled its purpose. In each individual shot, we are only given a small glimpse of each room. This further distances us from the characters and we are left only to observe their actions which could be as inconsequential as going from one room to the next to later in the film when Noriko runs up to her room and cries at the thought of leaving her family behind. In a way, the individual shots are secluded thoughts or concepts that the characters seems to jump in and out of them, seeming to casual interact with the space that we pay very close attention to.
            It’s also interesting to acknowledge how many other moments of story space the film decides to not show us. One such example is after we have learned about the family's desires for Noriko to get married; she casually mentions how she will be going to her friend's wedding. In another film, we would've seen Noriko at the wedding and her emotional response to being at the ceremony and comparing to her situation but in Early Summer, the only reference we get of that wedding is the cake Noriko brings back home. Another supposedly important moment is when the kids run away from home after Koichi hits them for misbehaving. Instead of focusing on searching for the kids, instead we see Koichi and Kenkichi playing poker and talking about their lives and later receiving a phone call, keeping the focus only on the characters rather than a potentially unfulfilling moment that distracts the viewer from the overall focus of the plot. The film makes us focus on the many perspectives of all of the characters but never forces us a message on us and never designates which character is right or wrong. The movie is about life. Later on, we see the kids complaining to their father Koishi about bringing home bread when they thought Koichi would get tracks for their train set. The children are focused on having the attention solely on themselves and getting whatever they want. It's understood that the kids could also be a form of comic relief when the film becomes dramatic. As the film goes on, we're presented with the lifestyle and differences in ideology from what we're used to seeing. The emotions of the characters aren't clearly defined or spoken out loud. It might bother us to see the other characters hoping for 28-year old Noriko to suddenly find a person to marry and being aware of the pressure given to her by her family until we remember when the film was created: 1951, 6 years after the end of World War II and the catastrophic damage done to Japan and we can begin to understand where the pressure is coming from. Throughout the film, we get many references to the hardships the family has gone through such as when Noriko and her sister are eating cake and they recognize what the value of cake is compared to something they would actually need.  Another example of the film's unusual way to portray life shortly after the breakfast scene when Noriko waits at the train station and talks with her childhood friend, Kenkichi, who she will end up getting engaged to later on. There is an extreme long shot of the train moving from the right side of the frame to the left with the music from the title sequence playing again.
            Unlike many other films that focus on having an overall conflict that pushes forth the direction of the film, Early Summer isn't as forceful with its own narrative. Early Summer becomes a more complicated film than we give it credit for. In its portrayal of the family dynamic as an isolated space rather than something picturesque, the film includes another depth of meaning to its already complicated ideal. The characters wear different kinds of clothing that confuse us into understanding what time period we are currently in the film but after a while we begin to realize how unimportant that kind of thinking is. If we wanted to explain the plot of the film very succinctly, we would be doing a disservice to the meaning of the film. Early Summer is a mysterious film that forces us to closely examine the characters in a way that is not encouraged in other contemporary films.

Works cited:
Early Summer. Dir. Yasujiro Ozu. Perf. Setsuko Hara, Chishu Ryu, Chikage Awashima, Kuniko Miyake. Shochiku, 1951. DVD. 

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Everybody’s looking at me: The Neurotic Character in Literature

 Originally written on December 7, 2011.

This is the first of a three part weekly series. I've thought about posting this since the day I've finished it but I've held off on the idea for several reasons, the most important one being: NO ONE COULD CARE LESS ABOUT READING AN ACADEMIC PAPER I WROTE. I'm currently majoring in Spanish and one of the things a Spanish major has to know is writing long papers. I made a joke in high school about how long papers would have to be in college. I should slap my past self for being a smug bastard. Despite this, the following academic papers that I will post for the next three Wednesdays are about topics that matter a great deal for me and as such, I tried to make the papers sound very personal, not like the stilted, template-based ones we wrote in high school. This first paper is about something I wanted to investigate ever since I began to appreciate comedy. What are the origins of the neurotic character and why have we begun looking up to it as a modern archetypical hero? So, even though this is technically an academic paper, I still consider it as a kind of creative work since I can rationally argue on the significance of my biggest cultural influences and that has to count for something. Due to certain restrictions (such as only being 5 pages long), I could only pick out several important cultural figures that could be considered as neurotic although a more consise paper would much longer, way too long for this blog, even. Like always, let me know what you think/how the argument could've been improved in the comments.

The neurotic character is the unspoken hero of our modern lives. When at once we looked up to the strongman who could overcome any obstacle, suddenly we revere the character whom does everything wrong. The neurotic character, at one glance, is the living, breathing archetype of everything conceivably wrong with the world, but due to the character’s inexplicable popularity, absolute hatred toward the character isn’t common. The neurotic character is believed to be a modern invention, or a comical contrast to the more serious archetypes, but in fact, the neurotic character has been an integral component of literature for centuries. The neurotic character, within the text, is despised by everyone but beloved by everyone outside of the text.

The neurotic character everyone relates to is George Costanza from Seinfeld. George is a relatable character from a well-established sitcom. George behaves unlike most people, obsessing over pointless trivialities, taking advantage of everyone and everything, and being at the blunt of every moment of misfortune that comes his way. George, for a sitcom character, is very depressing, and constantly ponders the necessity of life, wondering if the mistakes he continues to make are worth minimum wage or even life; his behavior is a definitive trait of the neurotic character who“…suffers from easy fatigability and irritability. He is dissatisfied with everything including himself”(1). The center of his problems is his failed love life. George does not know to keep a relationship together, and constantly makes destructive or impulsive decisions that ruin the relationship. Nothing could be more tragic or hilarious than acknowledging that George’s fiancé died from licking poisonous wedding envelopes he had picked out. George is a character with no realistic prospects; his reason for getting up in the morning is “to get the Daily News”(2). Even after hearing a friend’s harsh argument about George’s laziness and encouraging George to mature, still George questions him with a comic “Why?” as though his friend’s words of wisdom flew right over his head, and George still refuses to accept reality, that there is more to life than getting the local paper.

Larry David, a “fictional” character from Curb Your Enthusiasm, is the apex of the neurotic character in pop culture. Larry is a character who has always been looked upon a weird misanthrope in the eyes of the other characters who simply cannot rationalize his actions. Larry talks of many unspoken rules that others are not aware of, although the rules are morally based at their core, even if they are ridiculous. Larry makes terms of each “rule” in order to get the point of the rules across to the other characters that consider the rules as something shortsighted and pointless. Larry also works under his own understanding of others, even if at times, he can be fairly off, usually, he knows how to manipulate others for his own means, such canceling appointments and using his mother’s death as an excuse. At the very center of Larry’s behavior is an unmistakable core that has a sense of justice. Larry and his wife go to the grand opening of their restaurant; all goes well until the chef, who has Tourette’s, spews out several curses that halt everyone’s conversations and leaves the room in complete silence. Ever the good spirit, Larry recalls seeing high school students who shaved off their heads in support of a fellow classmate who is going through chemotherapy, and does what any good-hearted soul would in that situation: he screams “Scum-sucking motherfucking whore!”(3) Shortly after, his manager curses, and eventually the entire classy restaurateurs invoke in loud profanities. The clip ends with Larry in the middle of the ruckus he causes, arms folded, proud of the moral obligation he made for the chef. It is an unusual solution, one some people would have trouble understanding, but it’s a truly daring act to risk the reputation of your restaurant if only to spare the feelings of a chef suffering with Tourette’s. Though Larry’s behavior is unusual, ultimately it becomes understandable and relatable.

Notes From the Underground, a famous novel from the early 19th century, is an example of the development of the neurotic character. The narrator with no name begins his “novel” by the narrator’s voice “exist[s] in our society, when we consider the circumstances in the midst of which of our society is formed,” an indication that someone with the narrator’s opinions undoubtedly exists within the norm(4). The norm is questioned by the narrator and at times,  may seem even more deluded and mistaken than the narrator’s own conceptions. The narrator’s “intense self-consciousness causes him to be vain at one moment and self-loathing the next,” and seething with bitterness towards the normal man, although his criticisms and observations are undeniably truthful towards the folly of people. The narrator’s observances are very similar to George Costanza’s character in that both of them are very pessimistic towards the outcome of the world, and through their pessimism exists a moment of truth. Also, both characters are aware of their inadequacies and uselessness in the scale of everything in the universe, and both of them question their reason to live. Dostoyevsky’s narrator falls upon the themes made important in modern times, and many literary critics “identify the [narrator] as the archetypal modern antihero,” or the neurotic character(5).

Don Quixote goes back even further back in the early 16th century, with a neurotic character that has become timeless. Don Quixote is a lowly man living in an impoverished village, but due to his love of chivalric literature, believes himself to be one of the characters from his books, a valiant knight. Throughout the novel, Don Quixote causes much mischief in his travels with his squire, Sancho Panza, as he tries to save a beautiful princess who is actually a prostitute, and fight a dragon that is actually a windmill. Kashdan’s analysis remarks on traits neurotic characters embody: becoming “self-absorbed” in their own world, and ultimately being rejected by society, traits worn proudly by both George and Larry(6). In Don Quixote’s case, his behavior is purely chivalric and highly respectable, and with no actual malicious intent. For Don Quixote, being a knight with principles and values is more worthwhile than living the simple life of a villager, and ultimately, it is a reminder that even the world of the normal individual can be distorted by cynicism, repetition, and fear of change. It is remarkable on how much more sense Don Quixote’s actions are compared to the values of normal life. Bringing back Larry’s example, Larry swearing in the restaurant may not be the most appropriate solution to the chef’s unexpected swearing, but it was the right thing to do, despite the circumstances or consequences.

The neurotic character is the embodiment of our unforeseen behavior, and the most truthful voice in our society. When at one point we looked upon the valiant hero or the confident one, now we look at the neurotic character as the antihero; despite their values and customs, ultimately what each character wants is justice for all people, and some kind of rational understanding for the world’s mysteries, including the production of characters like the narrator, and how such characters emerge from a seemingly normal environment. When we are able to recognize our own faults, develop them, and ultimately improve ourselves with this long, ongoing process, we cannot stop but recognize the bumbling characters of Don Quixote and George Costanza for taking that first step.

Works  Cited:

(1)Price, Antoinette. “Understanding the Neurotic.” The American Journal of Nursing, Vol. 37, No. 8 (Aug., 1937), pp. 878-881. JSTOR. Web.

(2)KrsONE305. “Kramer Talks to George About Life.” YouTube. Web. July 13, 2009.

(3) Sujeetwearsvests. “Curb Your Enthusiasm. Season 3, Episode 10: Restaurant Grand Opening.” YouTube. Web. Jun. 23, 2010.

(4) Dostoyevsky, Fyodor.  Notes from the Underground.  Trans. Constance Garnett. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 2009. Print.

(5) Nielson, Keith. “Notes from the underground.” Masterplots, 4th ed; November 2010, p1-4. Literary Reference Center. Web.

(6)Kashdan, Joanne G. "Don Quixote de la Mancha." Masterplots, 4th Ed.; November 2010, p1-5. Literary Reference Center. Web. 

Be sure to check out the RS(TBTT...E) group on Facebook, or on Tumblr for images, videos, and more (but not much more). Also, Harold from The Presenters has his own Twitter account now! Yeah...I'm running out of ideas.

"Mental" Notes: The Freshman Years (Pt. 2 of 2)

Check out The Freshman Years, Pt. 1, to see the initial background information about these posts. More information about the ideas will be posted later in the comments. Thank you and enjoy.

(1) An idea for a short film: Longtime artist Frank Tecran reaches his creative limits and falls into a deep depression that concerns his wife, Marion. After much discussion, Frank decides to return back home to his childhood home at Cleveland,Ohio. Despite the arrival of a new baby underway and the amount of stress used on finding a new home in Cleveland, Marion reluctantly agrees and they move back within two weeks. The trip reinvigorates Frank and he announces to the world his next project which he prematurely states as his masterpiece. Unsurprisingly, the whole town keeps open eyes and ears at the prospect of a new tourist attraction that could reinvigorate its popularity. The work is finished after many months and the whole city sits patiently at its unveiling. Frank makes a heart-breaking speech about new opportunities, and allows one tear to escape just as he pulls away the cloth. Excitement turns into confusion and disgust as Frank reveals a larger than life rendering of the David's phallus. Despite the numerous amounts of complaints and death threats placed on Frank, he unabashedly defends the reputation of his statue and of himself although he does try to make it more...publicly presentable.
"What if I tied some balloons at the end of it?"
'That's a terrible idea.'

This idea would be particularly difficult to pull off, not just in the scale, but in how it's meant to be a light-hearted dramedy about a man who's suffering from depression. Also, with the statue, it's meant to be an ongoing plot-point and joke which may or may not pull the audience out of the depressing outlook cast on by Frank Tecran. At this point, the statue unveiling seems to be a pivotal moment in the short but what could be done for a follow-through? Much like my other ideas, I came up with this one while I was walking to class. It seems that my best ideas usually come from a stroll. That or the bathroom. I think if I wanted find a good resource for pulling off a dramedy with difficult subject matter, I'd try to watch 50/50 or Dr. Strangelove. The name Frank Tecran has nothing to with anything, it just sounded professional, and Marion is a good wife name; I don't have any evidence to back me up on that.

(2) A 5 minute short film. Music: Hang On Little Tomato(Pink Martini)-The short begins with a small film festival coming to an end, just as the lights turn on. Everyone starts packing up their things until only three people are left. Arley(tentative name) takes a chance to ask the two guys if he can go home with them. He gets disappointed when they say they also walked here. He sees three sandwiches on a platter, and asks if he can take them. Since he doesn't want to to carry the sandwiches on a platter, he decides to wrap them in newspaper, packs his things and leaves the building, while bidding his two friends goodbye. He carries the sandwiches in both hands, tempted to juggle them, and walks in the darkness. He gets worried by the lack people around him until he sees a couple walking not far from him. (The music is cued here) He runs up behind him, but tries making as little noise as he can. Once he's two feet away, he slows down his steps comically, and proceeds walking behind them. He smiles at the couple holding hands and applauds them for daring to walk in the dark at such a late hour. The woman turns back and sees Arley behind them, but turns back as if she saw no one. He keeps his distance and observes the two lovers and their embracing company. The two walk down some stairs, and try to jump over a few steps together which Arley doesn't do. It's been two minutes and Arley is still behind them. He watches their hands again and begins thinking about his own experiences, all of them a fragment of his imagination. He grows sadder(a cue for the music to slow down, only the piano plays, ala Up) and decides to take a different path when a fork in the road appears. He watches the couple again, and walks alone into the darkness.

This is pretty much a word-for-word retelling of what actually happened to me one night in college. I know from the description of walking behind this couple that I seem to act like a stalker, but it was about 10pm when I left the film screening and I was walking alone for almost 3 blocks in a street known for having muggings so when I saw this couple, I didn't hesitate in following them. I knew both of them so they weren't in any real danger. For the short, I would actually try to make it completely silent, with only a few gestures and cues that tell the viewer that it's late and no one can drive me home. In an unusual way, this short is meant to be a music video for the delightful song "Hang On Little Tomato" by Pink Martini, although it quickly takes on a depressing tone once the music slows down and our protagonist begins to imagine how lonely he feels. With absolutely no respite to happy-go-lucky couples, I am jealous of every happy couple I've ever seen, and I blame this on my own shortcomings and impatience in looking for someone I'd like to go out with. To be frank, the only primary reason, as of now, that I'd want to go out with anybody is to get to kiss them on the mouth. I know, it's a very selfish goal but you can't help but wonder what it feels like, and sketches or depictions on TV/movies are a distant portrayal of what must be an unforgettable experience. I've been very cynical about kissing, describing it as "moist palms pressing against each other," but I can't help but continue to wonder about it, who the lucky gal could be. I wouldn't even mind kissing a guy on the mouth, but only a peck and only for a moment. It would be tricky to recreate those emotions for the short film but it would an intriguing challenge. It would probably be difficult to find a couple willing to be depicted this way. Last thing, Pink Martini is a multi-lingual group that I believe is still active today; a really good friend of mine introduced me to them after I asked her how I wanted to expand my musical tastes; she's graduating today and if she ever reads this comment, I wish her the best of luck in college and in the future.

(3) A short story/one-act play about a high school student who behaves pleasantly in front of everyone only to hope that they will vote for him as the Salutatorian, even though he actually is quite resentful towards everyone. His hopes are dashed when his best friend recommends to him to vote for the obvious choice instead of him; he learns who the Salutatorian is at an all-school assembly and reveals his true personality publicly to everyone. His chances for a spiritual redemption come by when he learns about the school's upcoming coffeehouse showcase and starts brainstorming a fake-salutatorian speech.
"That's not funny."
'What isn't funny? It's a bike chain and a sledgehammer.'
"But what does that have to do with love?"
'It's a thinking man's joke.'
"Is the thinking man in a vegetative state?"

I was going to work on this idea last summer but it ended up being a little too personal for me to complete. I came up with the idea shortly after a good friend of mine told me to vote for someone else as the salutatorian rather than myself as is stated in the plot. We(by we, I mean, Harvard-Westlake) have an annual event called the coffeehouse, an event meant to demonstrate everybody's talents, whether it be singing, poetry, awesome instrumentals, or in my case, stand-up. I performed in 2 coffeehouses, which I will post on the blog on a later date, and was writing my material for the third. I kept changing ideas from a normal stand-up routine that made fun of Prom and nail polish (info of which can be found in "Another Comedy Routine, 9/19/11") and a fake salutatorian speech that would be comical, dramatic, and nostalgic. The fake speech, even though I thought about it constantly, wasn't completed on time and I had to drop out. The quote in the description about a bike chain and a sledgehammer was, in fact, my original material for the second coffeehouse meant to be an ambigiuous analogy for love. I told the idea to my therapist who told me where's the joke? I didn't know. If I was ever going to return to this idea, it would be much later on, after I've become more comfortable with filmmaking and with dialouge-driven scenes.

(4) A guy, Jake, enters his room after shaving his beard, only to discover his room has been invaded by dwarfs. The conversation goes back and forth in strangeness as Jake discovers he's a butt-wipe who cares about the human race, and the seemingly harmless dwarfs have committed genocide of the gnomes. Needless to say, it doesn't resolve itself very well.

This is the result of waking up early in the morning and having no one to talk to while eating breakfast in the dining halls. Just like the invisible dogs idea, this idea resulted from just imagining a guy who discovers dwarves in his room. The jokes were achingly corny and I got bored with the idea while I was thinking about it and decided to go to ridiculous extremes such as accusing the dwarves of killing off the neighboring gnomes. Rather than learn a lesson, Jake decided to kick out the dwarves for their crimes against humanity. It's fair since the dwarves called Jake a butthole most of the time. Needless to say, this is not an idea I'll revisit anytime soon.

(5) A parody of weddings as a plot device, featuring a mouse who pulls his dead fiance all the way to the altar. The animated short begins with the customary wedding march played by an organ that slowly "disintegrates" into a record player version. Many different camera angles of the church, until the mouse comes into the church.

Parody might be the wrong word to use for this admittedly disturbing criticism of weddings. Specifically, this targets weddings as a last resort for sitcom/movie ideas in how an event known to evoke strong emotions in others. If there's any recycled idea I get tired of, it's when weddings somehow get involved in soap operas and one of two things happen: either the wedding goes off without a hitch and the bride and groom are written off the show OR wither the bride/groom are (GASP) killed by the bad guy!!! It's also meant to be criticize the perfection depicted in high-scale weddings by replacing the bride and groom with mice.

(6) A story about a famous celebrity, beloved by practically everyone, who is preparing for his 'coming out' routine where he reveals his hatred for humanity.
"I hate everyone. I want everyone to die in a fire."

People, at times, can be absolutely appalled by someone's behavior, regardless of how harmless the act seems to be to the person. Others, like psychologists, are fascinated by such behavior, myself included. The idea would be a very short film chronicling the rise of this celebrity and ending with his first standup routine that tears apart the very community that brought him to prominence. The quote I posted is very harsh but would be the celebrity's opening joke in the routine. The short would end with everyone in the audience becoming speechless as the celebrity leaves the mike on the stand on the center of the stage and walks off.

(7) Imagine someone who is able to view another person's mistakes via special glasses. The mistakes can be displayed as a black or shadowed movement that parallels the "normal" movements. A theory regarding whether or not we make more mistakes than we're aware of.

This idea came about after a conversation I had with a close friend at Starbucks. I tried to imagine a visually appealing way to track every single mistake we could ever make on account of trying to figure out every single mistake we've ever made, be it simple ones like skipping out on brushing our teeth or serious ones like potentially ruining a very close relationship with someone. Since there is no accountable way of measuring just how many mistakes a person can make, it's somewhat interesting to imagine the mistakes we do count are the ones we know we've done. I also thought about the things we say being wrong and how that could be represented with the "shadow" versions, either that the wrong words would become highlighted in black and becoming visible. Needless to say, this is an incredibly difficult idea to explain with words alone.

The Only Part I Remember From The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I wrote this in 11th grade for English class. Up to this point, it's the only essay I've ever written that got an A, even though it's very flawed. We were assigned to write a personal essay, and could write about anything we wanted, and as soon as I got the approval, I immediately started writing. Normally, in this section, I would divulge every single detail I can remember about writing this, but this time, I'll let you, the reader, make those inferences if you wish. Today, I return home and my first year of college is concluding. I'm posting this completely unedited, as it was originally written when I first turned it in.

I’m a pessimistic person. It’s a known fact. I can recall maybe a few things of my childhood that are precious enough to exhibit on a photo album with Precious or Treasured Memories already printed on the cover, with the same elegant font. You would think companies like that wouldn’t switch it up every once in a while. My whole childhood does resonate in my mind frequently, but it’s a painful, killing motion just like firing a pistol in an enclosed space and hearing the booming noise of the Liberty Bell smacking against both sides of your brain. Don’t get me wrong, the whole freedom of being a child was certainly enjoyable(along with the occasional tantrum), but I seriously can’t find many defining moments in the past 17 years that would be worth mentioning casually at dinner. But…there have been some.

Toy Story is my favorite film of all time. Many would scoff at such a decision, same as I would scoff at them for laughing at the “funniest thing ever” only for that position to be usurped in a day. I can imagine the emperor, in the shape of a banana peel, choking and coughing on a drink served to him by “knock knock joke”. I still remember, vividly, when I was only 3 yrs. old, the family took out the new Nissan ‘95 model for a spin, which is no longer as magnificent and powerful as it once was. We drove to a Jons marketplace, though not the one close to where we live, my parents saw the cardboard standup of Buzz flying as high as his aspirations, with Sheriff Woody, tightly grabbing Buzz’s leg, and praying that he doesn’t fall. My parents just couldn’t resist that tempting cardboard and bought the movie, in Spanish. We came home, we turned on our television set, vrrrring then clicking to reveal the snow, turned on the VCR set, and then I fell in love. I was captivated by the characters, the colors, the humorous actors and situations, the wonderful music, and finally, the credits. The whole movie was absolutely perfect, and it was a position that I never challenged, even in my later years, as an obnoxious, pessimistic teenager.  There are just too many classic moments to recall in that film: Woody’s meeting with the toys, the plastic army men performing an impressive espionage mission, and John Ratzenburger with his amazing voice, being supplied to the classic know-it-all, Hamm. It wasn’t just a small role for John. And who could forget ol’ Forrest Gump himself, Mister Tom Hanks? Tom is my favorite actor and though I’ve seen him in many movies, I hereby declare his career defining performance to being the voice of Sheriff Woody. I know some will disagree…I know many will disagree, but I can’t help but just want to state that as a fact, since it is a fact, a factual fact. Anyway, Toy Story is one of the few defining moments of my childhood. After seeing that movie, I began drawing and haven’t stopped yet. It’s become one of my most enthusiastic endeavors, alongside writing. My dream is to create as a story as beloved as Toy Story, and one that makes its permanent mark in the film industry and the world. Such high aspirations for such a low thinker.

Something happened upon re-watching Toy Story upon finally becoming seventeen. People claim that I obsess over the most ridiculous details. But one particular detail from the movie struck me like a harpoon, piercing the durable flesh off a whale in the middle of a thunderous storm. For much time, I enjoyed the joke that Etch N Sketch draws the lamp that Woody used to push Buzz out the window. Oh, wait. It’s not a lamp, is it? For most of my life, that’s what I wanted to imagine it was. Toy Story was a cute film with adorable characters that had problems that get resolved in the end like a fairy tale. Toy Story is also an unapologetic human drama that explores the rawest emotions that toys can develop. It was then, I realized but refused to accept, Etch N Sketch drew a noose, fit for the most bastardy scoundrel. Even the most wonderful part of my childhood had grown up. (There’s also a kiss ass joke and a vulgar joke but that doesn’t pertain here.)

Growing up is a challenge. That sentence has been written and typed by many people, in different ways, and can be considered as the eponymous statement of the century, but only since it’s true. For a long time I wanted to consider the noose as a lamp, not only due to its shape, but because it would just make more for sense for me as an ignorant 10 year old, who wanted to believe that everything was okay when his mother told him so, even when it clearly wasn’t. Toy Story is a film that has grown up alongside with me over time. I can now find different, sophisticated reasons to appreciate the wonders that this film delivers. However, the first time I found out that it was a noose, I laughed. Hard. At 11: 00 pm. With no one else around to ask me what the joke was. But after laughing, I started shivering. Shaking. I felt like my joke was macabre, offensive, as a badly worded Holocaust joke which for the record, I have tried on several occasions. I always get blank stares. When at one point, as a kid, I thought about how awesome the rocket scene in the movie was, now when I think of Toy Story, I thinking about Bo Peep saying, “why don’t I get someone else  to watch the sheep tonight?” and then Woody laughs as awkwardly, yet as teasingly as he could. What a horn-dog. I can’t even blame that kind of thinking as simply being immature, now I’m challenging the logic of reproduction with these plastic figures. I can’t even believe I just typed that sentence.

It’s a difficult transition to go through in gaining such responsibility, a word I hereby nominate as severely overused. When, at an early age, you begin to draw outside the lines or play in the sandbox with the kid and his little red truck, suddenly you’re presented with explaining why you drew outside the lines and designing that same red truck or even improving its design. Much like my progression with the movie, it seems that many of the films choices are no longer adorable or frightening just because that’s how the movie was made, with no previous planning. Now, I realize the guys at Pixar are geniuses at what they do, but they fight and struggle with their choices as much as any other career does. The guys at Pixar are the same as the race car driver, the choreographer, or the scientist. Woody wasn’t the handsome cowboy we know and love at one point, originally he was a cynical, snarky, rude, short-tempered ventriloquist doll who looked frighteningly like Chucky. Also, my idol, director John Lasseter and his team went through hundreds of drafts for Woody’s first line in the movie. His first line! To think it must’ve taken weeks for them to come up with, “Pull my string. The birthday party’s today?” Geniuses. That’s the only way I can describe them. I’ve decided, half-heartedly, that I want to become an animator, but I’m still not absolutely confident I can pull such a thing off. Hell, it’s taken me 16 years to realize that I should write my thoughts down…on paper. Not just say it to people and hope they like it, but to…write…it…down. And it took me 17 years to finally understand what I’m supposed to be figuring out for essays, which is still such a struggle. In trying to articulate my thoughts as coherently as possible, I have taken the first step towards maturity. But if seeing those moments in Toy story makes me uncomfortable and even traumatic, am I capable of taking that step? Can I fathom what a drop that step will be? I predict it’ll be, at least, a 30,000 foot drop, with the cartoon smoke that always dooms Wile E. Coyote.               

As a little kid, I found myself negatively obsessed with Toy Story. Now let me explain what that means. Just like any franchise, I found myself purchasing whatever product I could from the toy store that was about Toy story. I even bought the Luxo ball so that I could bounce on it, even though the weight distribution would prompt immediate death and a frightening squeal from the ball. I was as abusive as the psychosomatic maniac, Sid, when it came to the treatment of my “prized” Toy Story figures. I remember on a cloudy day, nothing like Andy’s room’s wallpaper, where if weather reflected emotions, it would be pitch black. For no impertinent reason, I walked to the middle of the driveway, holding my Buzz Lightyear with both hands, and shouting “To Infinity and Beyond!” hurling Buzz through the air almost 20 feet. He was a spaceman and had been trained to handle such intense forces of gravity, but he was also made of PLASTIC-Kkk and couldn’t survive the flight back down to cruel mother earth even he tried to. I was always careful, and when I knew I couldn’t catch the spaceman, I didn’t try to. I would be absolutely traumatized if I saw Buzz penetrating the rock-solid concrete at such a frightening speed, no one to help him as his carefully designed buttons and features would scatter across the place, cracking and breaking into indiscernible bits. I rarely swear in public if it’s only a stream of curse words with no subject, verb, or meaning. Saying it just for the sake of saying it, but I promise that I would frighten the poor bastard for daring to rape the integrity of that beautiful film by doing just as the film’s villain had, and not realizing the significance of these wonderful characters. Then again, I was 4. I wasn’t thinking about rape nor did it ever occur to me to type, write, or say the word. It even confounds me that such a word even exists or that it’s always thrown out in public like “the” or “and”. I’ve never heard of a conversation that didn’t contain either word, and can’t imagine anyone trying it, even for some kind of viral recognition. YouTube is making just too easy for anyone to become recognized, and that wouldn’t be a problem for me if the people being recognized were worthy of being recognized. Such random exposure to things like in YouTube would’ve confused and possibly annihilated the curiosity of a 4 years old toy torturer/space explorer that he would never want to think about anything else since he’d realize just how horrible and unapologetic any word, term, or phrase can be. What he had once thought as innocent, millions of others see as a destructive, poisonous force.

But I’m being pessimistic. The film, no doubt, has some of its morals intact, memorable life lessons that I will remember forever since people won’t stop repeating them. You can stop telling me to be myself; I learned that lesson a long time ago. Strangely enough, I can’t find myself to stop making the connections between Toy Story and A Streetcar named Desire. At first glance, yes this comparison is not worthy of being compared. The two movies have absolutely no possible way of being compared, and without even…Okay, I’ll stop now. Blanche Dubois was someone who didn’t want to let go of what her life had established, a reputation of a life that had no chance of evolving into this time period, a woman with her moth-like gestures trying to suck up as much of the spotlight as she can, yet not allowing it to consume her in a blanketed inferno that no soul would try to put out. I know that sounds confusing so…let’s try that again. Blanche is a misunderstood woman, living in a city she misunderstands, trying to find an explanation that justifies all of her torment. As it turns out, Blanche never finds this justification and is thrown into the mental institution, even though she was the sanest of the other characters. Arguably. Favorable spaceman Buzz Lightyear went through the same mental scenario; arriving in Andy’s room, he captures the attention of all but one toy, the most resilient one who won’t dare to move from his established position. Yes, Woody is Stanley Kowalski and better yet, Marlon Brando would’ve seen the connection as well. Heh, imagine if Woody shouted like Stan-oh wait… “YOU… ARE… A…TOY!!!” Brando would’ve been proud. Anyway, both Buzz and Blanche search for their identities without doing so, but are forced to confront reality when it is the most and only appropriate solution to their ongoing conflicts. Pixar took risks by placing Woody and Buzz in that dramatic and Oscar-worthy scene, where both on the toys “death row”, contemplate their previous actions and (realize what they had been missing all their lives). It’s truly a noteworthy scene that…well, I don’t remember if I did cry the first time I saw it, but I promise that it would make me emotional if I saw it today or even years or decades later. Woody is talking the whole time, but Buzz never looks up, even to relax his neck, just…thinking. Even the actors mention that Buzz is legitimately depressed at this moment and it seems that nothing can pull him out of it. This moment is Blanche’s moment at the very end of Streetcar, though not done quite as graphically, but just as emotionally, and on some days, I feel like I’ve been strapped onto that rocket, and I don’t care about how heavy or volatile the rocket may be, but all I know is that rocket is the only thing it takes for my life to end, in a fiery explosion, in a blocked out state of mind, in a reality that has lied to me for the last time. But…Pixar does what I can’t even do without some kind of help. They remind me that there is someone nearby who can help, a cowboy, sitting under a crate just a foot away, standing as the brightness of the morning sky clears away the thickest fog painted onto the window, pushing with all of the might his stuffy arms and delicate exterior can exact onto the crate. Woody pushes, the uplifting music joining him, pushes, pushes, and then Buzz joins him, and they push, and push, and then Woody is freed, and then Buzz keeps pushing and then… Classic movie moment. The moment is purely physical comedy, but it’s done with such finesse and nostalgic brilliance that I promise I will laugh at that sequence every single time it happens. Woody may be my favorite character, but you have to have to laugh at yourself every once in a while. Woody’s expression just as the toolbox falls on him is just classic. God, I love this movie!

Yes, I have been…a little pessimistic throughout the whereabouts of my life, and now that I think about it, I’ve been unfair to myself. But it hasn’t been my entire fault. Life has been a constant struggle that challenges me every day to do something worthwhile. Life can be pretty damn annoying in that sense. I mean, I can’t even take a 5 minute break without life telling me that I should stretch out my arms in order to get more comfortable. I just typed a…2, 637-ah, make that 8, word essay and life still wants me to keep working. At this point in time, I will freely admit that I have been disappointingly lazy, despite my sudden interest in everything except academics, so that could be a factor for not wanting to work. But, also, work can’t be the only factor of my life, and Pixar knows this. Their careers encapsulate everything I dream of accomplishing in the future, and my appreciation for their remarkable and ingenious contribution to films will be everlasting. But that’s not what my childhood was about. No, my childhood was about the story of two toys, which were different from one another, who learned to accept each other as individuals, and become lifelong friends. I will admit part of that sentence was said by Tom Hanks in a television interview, and I paraphrased it…a little, but I do respect Tom that much to confess, and to acknowledge that he explained the meaning of the film better than I could. All right, I give it another shot. Toy Story is about a group of toys that have an undying appreciation for their imaginative owner Andy; it’s also about human struggles, the search for oneself in an ever-changing world, and the complications that plague their lives constantly. It’s a wonderful, beautiful film that I cannot help, but look back on sometimes when I want a simplified explanation to life, and sadly, for this, the film no longer delivers. But that is my fault since my personal philosophy can be connected back to the movie (and Curb Your Enthusiasm), and everyone knows that philosophy tends to be complicated. What it does deliver is something that, even after all these years, I still can’t directly explain, gives me a renewed appreciation for the wonders of life, and reminds me of the imaginative potential that everyone is capable of. There are exceptions, small ones. It’s a movie that reminds me that toys are not just a product of commercialism as we’ve forced ourselves to believe in trying to seem mature, but that toys are the only aspect of our lives that we have an eternal connection to, a never-ending wire that can reach long and beyond the end of the universe, a cementation of our souls that we will always love, no matter how much more complicated the world becomes. I love Toy Story, and… will never forget the permanent influence it’s given me, for it is not simply a 76 minute long strand of film. Toy Story is me, and as far as I know, that’s a pretty good thing.

Now What? - Departure

November 22, 2011...
In a few days, I will return to my native homeland: Inglewood, California, where I will frolic and dance with the inhabitants until the chocolate bunnies rise from the ground, only to realize they’re a few months earlier till Easter, and disappear without a trace. In reality, Wednesday will be a day of regaining the enthusiasm and imagination from the days of old, before every comment about seeing raining gumdrops would lead to a drug intake accusation. I haven’t seen my brother in almost three months, and as much as I’d like to see my parents and other family members as well, I’ve most been looking forward to seeing my dear, old companion again, my partner in crime. Although we do keep in close contact over instant messaging, it still feels great to be on the verge of seeing him face to face again. I did tell him that I would have homework (more accurately, long-term projects) that I have to work on over break, and if fall break taught me anything, it’s that unlimited amounts of free time can be a very tempting obstacle. I’m sure my parents won’t mind, after all, being a college student means picking and choosing your obligations. Yesterday, I said goodbye to a friend who was leaving on her trip back to California. Unexpectedly, afterwards, during class, my vision became blurred and colored with a patch of translucent green covering a third of my field of view. Later on, upstairs at the library, I was afflicted by a terrible headache that caused me to kneel down to the floor and rest my head on my winter jacket. I thought it was a migraine, but it was just a persisting headache. A trip to University Health Services took care of that. What worries me is what someone told me afterwards about headaches being caused by stress; in this case, regarding the friend who’s leaving, stress I knowingly caused. I just keep imagining how much more difficult it will be to control my emotions, and myself when it comes to unexpected moments like yesterday. I actually felt like I was about die during those horrendous headaches. My mom has headaches all the time by the numerous problems she has to put up with, and I can only hope that I won’t have the same problem later on. As always, I guess we’ll have to see, but not any time soon, I'm afraid.

NW? - Fixing the Flat                                  NW? - Pessimism and...

Now What? - Fixing the Flat

November 8, 2011...
Nothing serious to report this week, or from last week, for that matter. I had some schoolwork to do and I did it. Most of it, at least, there’s a pressing Art History paper due next week that I have yet to start on, but that’ll change tomorrow. All goes well, I might get to stay in the museum on Friday to research further. That’s not to say that everything was fine last week. As the first week of November, it became my first test of endurance and ability, if I was truly capable of starting an assignment and finishing it within a week or two weeks, instead of having another all-nighter. It may be a college tradition to pull off the all-nighters, and drink obscene amounts of caffeine to do it, but I’m simply not capable doing that since I usually pass out on cue at 10 or 11pm. Also, realizing the all-nighter is the only thing holding my grades from improving is another incentive to get procrastination out of my system. I read once that it takes 21 days to fully break a habit. Seems as though I’ve got some work to do. Saturday was a depressing day, and it was all my fault, of course. I invited someone who I was interested in to help me study for an Art History exam, and when she arrived and realized I didn’t have any actual questions about the exam, she got understandably upset. Of course, it took two days to rationalize her reaction as anything other than bitter hatred. I can safely say that the hours following the awkward meeting were various. I felt like a pregnant woman whose emotions kept switching unexpectedly: first from sadness to anger to understanding to humorous to bitter to vengeful to spiteful to rational and so on and so forth. I saw her yesterday and when she decided to talk to me, despite running a few minutes late to class, I knew I had overthought the whole situation. A huge lesson was learned this week, one that, since rejection is as natural a part of life as hunting, will help me improve my understanding of others. Maybe.

November 15, 2011...
Thanksgiving is a wonderful time of the year. It’s one of the few holidays that most schools accept as a day worthy enough to have classes closed for. It works out well for the working student as he can forget about his failed Chemistry quiz for one second, and think about what actually matters: family, and being the one who breaks off more of the wishbone. After this especially difficult semester, it’ll be wonderful coming back to LA for a few days. I’m kind of disappointed, however, that I will be bringing work back with me so that I can stay ahead of the curve. But on the first day, Wednesday, college and responsibility will not exist, and for good reason. It’ll be wonderful seeing my family again. Until it happens, I can only speculate on the amount of wonder those four days may or may not have. I’ve found it unusual that on the first day I saw snow falling from the sky, and landing on the ground, I was probably the most wide-eyed, child-like student that night. I have seen snow before but never from the beginning of the snowfall. It was a beautiful sight. And then there’s school, which will continue to be a part of my life for a few more days, but boy, are those days packed! SAGES final draft, math exam, Art History paper, Philosophy realization. It seems to me that school wants to make Thanksgiving break a well deserved 4 days of rest, but I’m probably not the only one who’s made that connection. Either way, it’s gonna be a difficult battle, but with Thanksgiving break this close to happening, we’re going to see if it’ll be a triumphant march back home.

NW? - A Death in...                                                NW? - Departure

Now What? - A Death in the Family

October 11, 1011...
I’m afraid to type about anything this week since it’s mostly very personal. Also, I have a crapload of work due next week, but that’s probably everyone’s situation. My brother hastily admitted that things have taken a turn for the worst since I left, and although it’s an expected reaction, it doesn’t make me any less guilty for “causing” it. My brother is only 13 years old, and only begun to realize how many challenges life will give him, and while I can advise him on most things, saying goodbye to your big brother is something he and I guess, all of my family, will have to learn to deal with, eventually. And to think the only problem I thought I had this week involved telling someone my religious affiliation (that doesn’t exist…yet.) As a creative thinker, an occasional thought can be something I love to dwell in for hours at a time, but sometimes, I suddenly get shoved right into a really uncomfortable thought that takes much effort and/or time to escape from. This week’s really terrible thought stems from the ongoing feeling I’ve had for this friend of mine. I never would’ve assumed anything about her, as to the possibility of a relationship and would’ve just waited to see what happen, but that’s never the way it works for me. The minute a conversation ends, my mind races with the numerous amounts of possibilities that this may lead to. I don’t know why that always happens, but I just can’t help it. It’s an internalized bad habit, and that much more difficult to break. In other news, I have a job. It’s not a very intense job, so…yeah, progress all around. Truthfully, I have nothing else to say about this week; in fact talking about anything just stresses me out further as I have to analyze on the many mistakes I keep making, and I’d prefer to just sleep on it right now. Sorry, bit of a cop out, but I couldn’t give any less of a damn right now.

October 25, 2011...
The wheel of life continues to spin on a flat. Since last week, and although I’ve had the support of my friends and loved ones, I’m still in a state of shock. The whole matter seems to be very simple and almost painfully complicated all at once. People keep asking me how I feel, and I can’t answer properly. How am I supposed to feel? Should be I grieving immensely, faking happiness to fill the hole, crying uncontrollably, or damning cars forever for being people killers? In a specific sense, I feel absolutely nothing at all, but much like there was no time in the beginning of the universe, at this moment, I might be experiencing every possible emotion but choose not to decipher any of them.  To assign a feeling to my current state of mind feels cheap and artificial, just posting another symptom on the goddamn bulletin board, and since there’s no pin, it’ll stick right off. It’s been more difficult than on Saturday, when I went shopping for the first time (don’t judge me, at least I did it), it was the first time I realized how distant we truly were: the distance of myself at the ancient, filthy bus station and her body back in El Salvador. The distance of her and I: infinite. Life does go on, and much like Spielberg bringing Seinfeld tapes with him on the set of Schindler’s List, I will do the same by listing off my favorite Seinfeld episodes on my blog, an unoriginal idea but…fff!! Also, my feelings towards a certain someone grew unexpectedly. As I’ve mentioned, life can be pretty complicated about things like that.

November 1, 2011...
This is it! November will be my month of triumph. No longer will I hinder my own progress on long-term projects by watching comedies until 1 in the morning.  No longer will I stare at a blank page for hours with all of my books and resources carelessly spilled out onto the tables. No longer will I grovel about how much of a failure I am. No, enough is enough! I will be a college student! Wait, hold on… How many papers have I written in two months? 5, technically, and have I enjoyed writing those papers? Well, yes, since I chose the subject for each. As it turns out, I’m already a college student and have been one since August 24. There might be one overarching problem that continues to be a problem, but in all other regards, life as a college student has been wonderful. By joining a fraternity, I’m learning about how to be a responsible person in an irresponsible world, whatever that means. I set my own schedule, do my own laundry, and so on, and so forth. I finally have two jobs and making enough to live by, and overall, I’m amazed at the amount of friends I’ve made in the first 2 months after fearing I would only make a couple. Of course, seeing if those friendships will remain by the end of the year is another story. No one ever considers that unless they have a personal relationship with their friends; usually, we stroll across the days thinking it’ll be the same for the rest of our college experience, unaware of the possibility of change. Whether or not that possibility makes us happy or not is another question to ask on another day. Either way, it’s going pretty well so far, and aside from the warmth that grows in our dorm, I’ve got no complaints…yet.

Editor's note: October 18th's entry was The Twentisecond One, with a few edits before posting. 

NW? - This Room...                                        NW? - Fixing the Flat