Author: Nick Anastasia

Given the great sunny weather we’ve been having this St. Paddy’s day weekend, I expect that all of you have been out and about jigging to your heart’s content (or at least to the content of the leprechaun who lives inside each of our hearts ((mine’s name is Steven))). This has got me to thinking about dancing, which I want to dedicate this article to because even though I don’t really have any sort of professional training or experience with discussing dancing on a technical level–when has that ever stopped me?

In a stand-up show, Jim Carrey said something to the effect of anything that makes a human being want to do this…

is okay with him.

So many people seem to bow out of the dance floor with the excuse, “I don’t know how to dance.” Well, neither do I and it doesn’t really look like Jim Carrey does either, but damn does he (and I, for that matter) look good doing it! And even if you (or I, for that matter, cause it does happen) end up looking like a dork, at least you’ll look like a dork having a grand time!

I think of dancing in much the same way that I think of T’ai Chi in that you’re aligning your body with your mind, emotions, and spirit and in that way expressing something perhaps even greater than all four. Once at a restaurant that was focused on being fancy to the point of being invasive (nobody needs to be laying napkins on my lap, it’s just not right), my family was celebrating my father’s birthday. At some point during the meal, he decided to ask us all a question that would reveal one of the three lessons he had decided upon becoming a father that he would pass on to his children. “What is the symbol of universal harmony?” We, of course, said all kinds of things: love, the infinity symbol, Ghostbusters 2, etc…but none of these would do. No, the symbol of universal harmony, he said, is dancing. Because everything is dancing all the time, from the smallest protons and electrons buzzing around to the planets and stars whirling around each other in a galactic tango.

So why would anyone be afraid of connecting themselves to that?

There’s an intriguing distinction I read attributed to Paul Tuitean that “the difference between a soldier and a warrior was that soldiers march, warriors dance.” What do the warriors of today look like? That drive and passion still exists in many people, but in today’s world there isn’t as much opportunity to go over and pillage the neighboring town. We find all sorts of ways to funnel that sort of frantic kinetic energy that propels the burning hearts of warriors: sports, mixed martial arts, and obviously dancing. But the war waged on the dance floor now is generally more dedicated to peoples’ drive for sex, which is okay because isn’t sex just another type of dancing? Dancing is a way of connecting, with self and others (since others seem to exist simultaneously in, out, and with the self). When you’re a soldier, you’re in the army, but when you’re a warrior–you are the army. So I hope you have a great weekend, I hope you move, I hope you dance.

So last week at the Oscars, Disney’s Frozen took home two rather predictable awards (though my hopes had been that Miyazaki would sneak away with it, the way many have hoped Leo DiCaprio might finally get his first).

While I haven’t seen the film, I’ve heard the song and probably ever conceivable cover by this point–one even involving a traffic reporter:

What is the fascination with this song? Is it that it’s sung by Idina Menzel, the Tony Award winning vocalist who starred as the original Wicked Witch of the West in the musical Wicked (whose name was pretty horrendously marred by John Travolta at the Oscars when he called her “Adele Dazeem”)? Sure she can hit really hit those notes with soul, try listening to her incredibly similar in both theme and structure “Defying Gravity” from Wicked, but does that really justify the attention of the whole internet?

To be fair, the song is pretty catchy and the message is certainly relatable. The overarching theme is made pretty apparent in the title, “Let It Go” is all about releasing yourself from the past. Additionally, and here the similarities to “Defying Gravity” are really obvious, a secondary theme is included revolving around discovering and releasing your true self/power. However, as I look at the lyrics more intently, I notice what seems like a contradiction. When the song starts, the lyrics state that there is “not a footprint to be seen” in the snow. But that’s not really true, all of the footprints leading forward are still apparent in the snow behind you when you walk. This implies that the singer is just not looking back, not that those footprints don’t exist. This is what creates the contradiction to the latter part of the song, when the speaker claims that “the past is in the past…that perfect girl is gone,” because that previous iteration of the singer’s self isn’t gone, her past has followed her footstep by footstep even if she wants to just look to the as yet untrod future. Further supporting this is the line “my soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around,” which has intriguing implications surrounding their mathematical definitions. I’m not a math person, but according to Wikipedia definitions: “a spiral is a curve which emanates from a central point, getting progressively farther away as it revolves around the point” and “a fractal is a mathematical set that typically displays self-similar patterns, which means it is “the same from near as from far.” Putting that together as best as an English major can it seems to imply that the singer’s soul is moving farther away from a central point (her past) and yet is doing so in such a fashion as for her end point to be paradoxically as close to where she began as when she started.

Which might seem to defeat the point of the song, but honestly it’s what I think makes it so cool. I mean, the whole song builds up to that last line “the cold never bothered me anyway,” which I feel is such an awesome twist. Basically, she’s saying that despite the whole song being about how she’s moved away from the past, she hasn’t really changed at all! The cold has never bothered her, the power that she’s gained, is all power that she’s already had, she’s not letting go of the past as much as she’s letting herself accepting who she is for the first time. I think what this song shows, when you really think about it, is that letting go doesn’t mean ignoring the past but recognizing that you can only overcome the things that you first embrace.

Sources: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/idinamenzel/letitgo.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spiral
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fractal

The breeze blows
across the water
that a fish breaks

each now
and again

like a lover’s leg
erupting from
white satin sheets

spiders hang
on silken threads
on silver webs
we’ve hanged
ourselves

but I look down
and realize
that I could chase

fireflies

my whole life
and be happy

Happy Spring Break everyone!

So since my article from last week, I’ve recently joined up to be in the cast of a play called The Great God Pan. For the past week, I’ve been going to script readings and thoroughly examined the characters and plot with an awesome group of people. While these meetings have been wonderfully fun, it was astounding to find that we could examine this 70-some page play for three hours four days out of this past week (only skipping Friday for St. Valentine’s Day). I’m sure that we found some things that didn’t really exist (and weren’t intended by the author–but authorial intent and its insignificance are topics for an article for another day), but we managed to stumble upon some amazing bits of characters in the recesses of the text and our own minds that really made the whole thing come alive.

Our director has a habit of hammering in the idea that we need to form connection, connecting with our characters and the other characters, surely, but also allowing the characters to connect with us! We contribute just as much to our characters as they have to offer on the page, and I think that it’s important to analyze how the characters you create are you unique to your creation of them. No one else could have written Harry Potter the way J.K. Rowling did, or Gandalf the way that Tolkien managed. These characters, as do all characters, have a unique and intimate relationship with the people who write them–even when that person is George R. R. Martin and he’s murdering everyone that you’ve ever loved in a novel.

Why a character does what they do and how they do it is important, but why they’re doing what they’re doing how they’re doing it for you (their writer, player, or actor) is equally significant. Authorial intent might not matter, but it probably does to the author! And for that reason, I think it should matter to you. There’s a lot of debate about whether characters continue on after you finish that last sentence of your short story, defeat the final boss of the campaign, or the red curtain closes–but if they do, if they really experience everything that they’re put through in the writing, wouldn’t you want them to experience a fullness of being? I mean, sure, some characters aren’t going to go out happily or be good people, but as fully-written characters, maybe they can reach that kind of fulfillment that everyone’s always seeming to be searching for, which isn’t to say that it should be handed on a silver platter, but certainly attainable.

Anyone’s who’s ever rolled a twenty-sided die knows that character creation can be one of the most tedious, boring, and lengthy party of any table top role playing game (except for when your halfling bard decides to try and seduce literally anything). However, we’re going to put aside the D6’s (and don’t you even dare bring up the point buy system, which is totally cheating), and focus on the part of roleplaying and story creating that makes it all fun: character.

Now, one might argue that the greatest test of character belongs to the player/writer, since creating a good character background and taking them through an entire campaign, short story, novel, play, or screenplay is nothing less than a testament of will. But honestly, character is the most dynamic and exciting part of any story–and a lot of that is because good stories are run by good characters. When your character walks into a final boss battle with the pit fiend that they’re contractually obligated to obey or die and ends up talking their way out of a fight only to participate in a consensual foursome with that boss later and is now carrying his lovechild before being rendered mute at the command of a Duke of Hell that also holds a contract with your character before your mother attacks and knocks your character out, you’ll be glad that you devoted so much time to an intriguing backstory (potentially based on an actual character of mine in an actual gaming campaign–I admit to nothing).

Compared to the bland motivation of “I want gold,” which requires a story to constantly find some plot device that will provide the character with money (which is super annoying in tabletop roleplaying games since half the quest objectives have nothing to do with cash), I’d rather be playing the pregnant unconscious daughter without a soul (not that I’m biased or anything). For me, I think that that’s what it really comes down to: motivation. The most important question is one of “why”–”why is my character doing this, why is my character doing it in this way?”

How your character chooses to do what they’re doing, why they’re doing it that way, and why they’re doing it at all will tell you and readers/other players more about your character. In this way, you’re able to develop your character in an organic way that doesn’t feel forced. Characters should grow, and if they don’t grow, well that develops them too (so they are growing, kinda, it’s a character creation paradox oh no!). If your character jumps on a horse to chase after some bandits, it might be because your character’s father was a stable manager who was killed by bandits. Or maybe your character does nothing because your character sees no gain or is a coward. Either way, these aspects and traits of your character are wonderful treasure troves that can be explored and investigated throughout a campaign or written work.

One last suggestion: let your character surprise you. Sometimes they might do something that you don’t expect, and if they do (even if it pisses you off), let them do it. Characters, after a certain point, become their own person and they know what they’d do better than you might, so just allow them that freedom. It might make the story harder to write, but that’s only if you’re holding the reins too tight. Let them write their story for you and you’ll find that your own work just became that much easier. You’re now the scribe rather than the creator and that’s okay. In his book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, Stephen King talks about how stories are something you find the way archaeologists discover bones or Michelangelo freed the statues already there but trapped inside blocks of marble. It’s like you’re a transistor radio that’s tuning into this station and your job is to write it down as accurately as you can. Let your characters write their stories (just as you write your own story), so that you can discover them as they continue to discover themselves.

As a graduating senior, I’ve been thinking a lot about how long I’ve been a student. By now I’ve been a student for the majority of my life and longer than just about anything I can remember! To think that it’s been seventeen years since walking into that kindergarten class where I’d learn to read and dominate at nap time (a skill I never really appreciated until college), is bizarre. Aside from my paste-dripping art and the Mother’s Day concert, my greatest accomplishment was finding a best friend–I knew I had to be friends with the guy bringing Jurassic Park Velociraptor toys that fought in the style of Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots to show and tell.

Of course, what I hadn’t known at the time was that my friendship with him was going to last with me these seventeen years. Yes, even though he’s going to Michigan State.

Back during childhood, making a friend was about as easy as asking a kid at Chuck E. Cheese, “wanna be my friend?” and losing a friend was as simple as his parents picking him up. Friendship wasn’t a big deal in those days, you made them and lost them and that was okay. Back in those days when you still thought you could be friends with anybody at the drop of a hat it didn’t matter because the world was full of friends to play with and love, even if that was only a temporary arrangement.

I’ve found that in the grown-up-world, friends are equally easy to lose but maybe not so easy to meet. Not everyone will like you, and sometimes it can be hard to see why anyone would. Sometimes the friends you have don’t feel like friends at all, and you realize that you’ve let people drift away even though they used to mean the world to you. So a friendship that’s lasted seventeen years? Yeah, that’s pretty damn important.

I believe that time is the most valuable currency that anyone can possess, because unlike money, you have a finite number of seconds–of heartbeats–and you can only lose them, never get them back. That’s why spending your time on something is such a valuable thing, and the most rewarding thing I’ve ever spent my time on and in this case, the majority of my life, is my friendship with my best friend. Having him at a time when I didn’t have any other friends, always having someone who’s support and understanding I could count on, has made him one of the most important people in my life. And that’s why I wanted to write about friendship as an art in the first place, because I think it really is. Not just in that it’s beautiful and important, but because like all art, it takes time and it develops into what it is.

All friendships are unique, there’s not necessarily a template that every relationship should follow. Poems can be sonnets or stream of consciousness, just as a relationship can be unlabeled or defined. However, what is it that causes us to label specific relationships as friendships? If you ask someone what friendship means to them, you might get a different answer than what you yourself might give. Some focus on loyalty, others on love. To some people it’s about someone to hang out with or talk to and the list goes on and on. For me, the most important thing in any relationship on any level is communication. Clear and honest communication is the vital nourishment that will allow a relationship to grow, and that growing is important! A seventeen year friendship didn’t happen in a day, it happened over the course of seventeen years. People change and relationships change, and if those changes can be accepted then the friendship can continue to expand. Resisting that change can result in regret, resentment, and ultimately stagnation.

Communication might be the foundation for any relationship, but I think that friendship requires a bit more nuance–understanding. I can’t really imagine being able to really call someone that wasn’t capable of understanding me (or at least making the effort to, given that I’m of a habit to babble incomprehensibly) a friend. Not necessarily just in the sense of being able comprehend, but also being able to be accepting and supportive of that understanding. By which I mean being accepting and supportive of me as who I am and who I’m growing to become. A friend that is willing to put that into a relationship is someone you can really build something special with, a real work of art.

Even though I don’t get to see my best friend often since he’s over at East Lansing where my Wolverine feet fear to tread, when I’m talking to him over the phone and he calls me “brother,” I can still feel the full weight of seventeen years of love.