A somber mesmerized delicate fool caught a glimpse of the delectable shades of gray that covered the walls of the building where he used to amuse those who waddled in with artificially smelling green that crumpled and ripped whilst being handled by unaffectionate hands. He could still see the spectrum, the array, of jewel like fragments of light, sparkling across the floor, along the walls, and deep within the recesses of his mind. If memory served him right, the old place used to be so overtly beautiful, filled to the brim with colorful people and objects, yet this supposedly prime level of extravagance did not sway the old fool to stay. Rather, he was much more attracted toward the scales that existed outside this world of bland happiness.
Two summers ago, yes, around that time, I the fool left the keyboard of this silly hall in order to travel beyond the world of color and factitious delight. I did not yearn for darkness, nay, but upon my dismissal, perhaps even far before then, I sought the intricacies of the ineffably expansive linearity of complex yet simplistic differences between the often forgotten distinctive tones of gray. The gray scale spoke to me in far grander overtones than the false kings of optical seduction. It’s elegance came forth from its ability to be beautiful without calling attention to itself. Color on the other hand, the muddled form it is, is a massive amalgam of cacophonous and rude little children of pigment that all vie for the attention of the motherly eyes that graze over the wall, canvas, or what have you. Yet little gray scale remains still, in the corner, watching his supposed siblings leap over one another. Upon closer inspection however, the eye sees the growth of poor little neglected gray scale, it sees him grow and grow and grow.
Yet this fool. Oh, this fool. He see’s not, the truth of the vibrant jewels that stand aside old gray scale. Indeed they are obnoxious and chaotic as they clamor over one another as they try to stay in the light. But together, they are a concoction that transmutes itself into an image of anarchic organization, and a beautiful opalescent one at that. The single, idle gray scale, he but remains silent for he sees the truth, but he remains independent in the eye of this old fool. A fool that has been out of the race since the race started, a negligible fool, he plays by himself, up and down the scales he goes, why would he need the other’s, when he himself can be all. Yet a question arises.
Category: Uncategorized
Jigsaw Puzzles & Other Pointless Things
People say that puzzles are good for the mind. Doing puzzles helps with memory and cognition and problem-solving ability. Puzzles are just all-around good things to keep the mind “sharp.” Whether it be Sunday newspaper crosswords, Sudoku books, Rubik’s cubes, or jigsaw puzzles, these are great workouts for the mind. They are an excuse to keep it active, but for what point? Upon completion of a Sudoku grid or crossword, a momentary feeling of accomplishment is aroused and you feel great. But why? You have accomplished nothing. You completed a mentally stimulating (questionable) task and nothing changes. Most puzzles are about as useful as this list of useless objects that can be considered art (although many of these are admittedly quite clever and mildly inspirational).
One of the most interesting products available for sale is puzzle glue–an adhesive used to preserve completed jigsaw puzzles so that you may frame your hard work and hang it from a wall like a taxidermized animal head. Jigsaw puzzles exist for a feeling of false accomplishment. They were once complete pictures that were later divided into hundreds of little pieces for the purpose of being put back together again. They could be about the journey–the process of rebuilding a purposefully deconstructed image–and the end product/destination is irrelevant, but at what point does the time investment of completing these puzzles become selfish? Economically, the opportunity cost is quite astounding, but what’s the big deal?–it’s just a puzzle. The amount of energy spent to turn a pile of cardboard pieces into a complete image could have many better uses. Completing a jigsaw and returning it to its box is a circle of pointlessness intended to sharpen one’s mind. A spinning whetstone sharpens swords in the same circular motion.
At the end of the day, the glued-together puzzle on the wall could have been made without dividing it into a thousand pieces and putting it back together and coating it in adhesive. If the mind needs to be sharpened, there are plenty of problems in the world to be solved and plenty of constructive projects to improve mental acuity. But this sounds stressful and fun-sucking. To compare a relaxing process and the gamut of unsolved global issues is absurd. The mental challenge of solving larger problems, while good exercise for the mind, does not return the relaxing results that a simple jigsaw puzzle affords. These pointless puzzles offer a form of meditation, almost. They provide a goal, although not that important in the scheme of things, but a goal nonetheless. In order to achieve the goal, a series of small, and slightly mindful tasks are required. Puzzles, in all their self-serving existence, can be a therapeutic means to mental health. The impracticality of solving these playful problems is globally sinful but personally enriching.
The Ultimate Korean DRUMA–Sinaboro Annual Concert
Sinaboro? For those of you who have never heard of this student organization before, Sinaboro is a Korean Traditional Drumming Group on campus. Founded in 1998, the group has grown bigger and bigger over the years and perform samulnori, a type of music originally performed outdoors by farmers to celebrate good harvests, in many campus events. Now the next question you may wonder about is the meaning of this word in Korean. Well, I personally searched it online first, but did not find any satisfactory explanations until I opened the group’s official website. Okay…so it means “little by little, gradually without notice†and “the word itself is no longer in use…‖Haha…traditional enough to name this group. So, this past Saturday night, Sinaboro presented its annual concert at Mendelssohn Theater, and after watching it, I was so amazed and impressed and added the Sinaboro annual concert to my list of must-go-event next year.
The concert contained various forms of performance. I was late and missed the opening drumming show, but was lucky enough to enjoy the performance of a lovely singing group. At first it was the solo of a guy singing the theme song of the Korean drama Secret Garden, called That Women. Then a girl joined him and they performed a beautiful duet. At the end of the song, a singing ensemble came on the stage. The melancholy melody was soon replaced by a lively tone of the group. They went on to sing another cheerful Korean song and then Seasons of Love from Rent. The singing section was followed by a drumming piece. The stage was dark with a midnight blue wash, leaving the silhouettes of the drummers. I could see their body movements, and couldn’t help moving my body with the beats. And then there was this really cool dance–I apologize for not knowing the name of it–in which the dancers produced rhythmic sounds by flapping and stepping, somewhat similar to step dance.
However, what I love the most about the concert is that it incorporated every performance into a larger narrative, the parody of the 2010 Korean drama, Secret Garden. I watched that during my senior year in high school and trust me, I was obsessed with that show, and the leading actor, Hyun Bin, has been my favorite Korean man for almost ten years. The show tells the story of two young persons whose bodies got switched by accident, and in the process of getting used to their new bodies and pretending to be each other in front of other people, they fell in love with each other. The concert showed five short movie clips of this story played and filmed by the creative kids from this group. They changed the context of the story to Ann Arbor and recreated the famous scenes in a humorous way. For example, the milk foam kiss scene, the original version being that the Hyun Bin wiped off the milk foam of cappuccino on the girl’s lips by kissing her. Here, when the boy was trying to copy that romantic moment, he got slapped on the face instead and was left muttering “Wait, I thought girls liked this in dramas.†The part when the girl (now in the body of the guy) taught the guy (under the girl’s body) how to wear bras after they just switched their bodies was also hilarious.
Although I kept telling myself that I had this 3000 word paper due in three hours (yep, on a Saturday night), I totally loved this concert and was reluctant to leave early. The only thing I wanna say is: Bravo!
The videos of the concert by parts could be found under the following link:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMYk1kN_bxqcpQ5tDSReEZw
Also, the film clips:
Part I: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0vMx6vCJMw
Part II: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSUqUtdau0A
Part III: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Z8BpOmQQrg
Intermission: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T2Iqeg1SPXI
A Talk About Sequel Seasons: VGHS Season 2 Review
So lately I’ve been on a very goal oriented mission to finish all the TV shows that I’ve started this year. Unfortunately, this number is a LOT higher than it should be due to the fact that, well, school. So even though I might have such good intentions, I inevitably end up falling short and dropping off in the middle of a season or even an episode.
This list of shows is including but not limited to: Sherlock season 3, Doctor Who Series 7 (Clara), New Girl season 3 (and finishing Season 1 because I technically never watched all the episodes???), Legend of Korra season 2, and Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D.
Although this list shows how diverse and interesting my TV habits are, there’s something that most of them all have in common – they are all sequels.
And by sequels I don’t mean like a sequel movie, I mean a sequel series. Even though I’ve been waiting months (or even years in the case of Sherlock) to watch these shows, somehow….I just…haven’t.
Previously on the List of Things To Finish was the show Video Game High School Season 2. Last year, while taking flu medicine that wasn’t actually doing anything since my doctor misdiagnosed my infection, I ended up waking up early every day one week and yet not going to class, because, you know, infection. I didn’t miss much since I was in community college at the time, so instead of trying to do work I surfed Netflix for my new obsession.
And, as fate would have it, I stumbled upon Video Game High School, or VGHS. I thought, why not, I’ll give it a try, and ended up marathoning the entire show since Netflix had put each episode into one big movie. Instantly, I loved it. I’m not a gamer, and I’ll never be a gamer, but this show had great characters, interesting plot points, a fantastic, clever, and completely hilarious script, and a huge heart. Yes, VGHS was my new obsession. As you might guess, it’s about a high school that plays video games as its curriculum. The creators, YouTubers who are fairly famous around the internet (heard of Freddie Wong?), made this show both specific in its plot about gaming and yet accessible to anyone such as me who doesn’t even know the first thing about an FPS game.
So when I found out that there was a Kickstarter to fund a season 2, I was absolutely pumped. And, since I’m on this new finishing things streak, I decided to finish season 2 which had come out in early September.
While the characters are still the same, and still dynamic in their progression, and the script was both funny and witty, I was…dissatisfied with the end product. Majorly disappointed would actually be more accurate. I can’t say I didn’t like it, because I did enjoy watching the episodes, but it lost something this season.
Instead of sticking with the previous format of a show with a continuous plot that culminated to an exciting (and epic) finale, the creators opted to be more fluid with the layout of season 2. Each episode does build on the next, but in very small ways. There was no overarching theme or plot, and for the most part each problem presented was resolved within the episode, leaving the next one to pick up a new one. To me, it was Video Game Sitcom, not Video Game High School. The writing and characters are much more interesting, diverse, and funny than a sitcom, but the layout and plot were just so blah. I kept expecting something to pick up, especially since two great plot points were introduced at the very beginning in the first episode. However not one but both of these opportunities were wasted, and the season finale was so unsatisfying that I couldn’t believe that it was actually over. The creators even used a cliffhanger to draw in audiences (and give them an incentive to crowdsource their season 3 efforts), and honestly, I’m just disappointed.
Honestly, I mostly wanted to use this post this week to vent about my frustrations. There were so many good things about season 2 that I’m just really surprised that I’m so unsatisfied. But the sad thing is, there’s really nothing I can do. I’m not sure if I want a season 3 so that Freddie Wong and co. can redeem themselves, or if I just want to rewatch the golden entertainment that is VGHS. Either way, I’m coming to find out that sequel seasons can be amazing (Sherlock) – or they can be massive letdowns.
The Complete Artist’s Guide to Morocco: Part IV – Fossils
Ancient Arts
Morocco is a dry, sandy dessert-y place where some trees grow, but millions of fossils reside. Maybe the most ideal place for retirement, but for some million year-old species, it is!
If you get a chance to visit Morocco, you’ll probably see fossils on every street corner, but like many other things sold there, you have be sure that what you’re paying for is authentic. Luckily, I was able to visit a dig site where I watched the rough stuff get smoothed, polished and primed for resale.
The fossils in Morocco range from small, shrimp and beetle-looking creatures to giant nautilus shells, bigger than dinner plates. If you have the money and the personal taste, then it’s possible to not only buy a granite countertop or sink from Morocco, but also to buy a granite or marble table with fossils in it.
I found this fossil art to be interesting simply because you start with a living, organic specimen that once walked or em, scuttled the earth. While the sedimentary arrangement of fossils is luck of the draw, the polishing, cutting, and framing of all the fossils together requires intense focus, visioning skills, and attention to detail.
For poor college students like me, there are smaller pieces that have been fashioned into wonderful keepsakes and tabletop accessories.
I ended up snagging a 200 million year-old nautilus shell, aka ‘ammonite’. There were several versions of ammonite, some of which looked like a mini-nautilus countertop, since they were so polished. But I preferred an ammonite specimen that retained its rough organic texture, but still had some human touches to even out the rough edges.
At the dig site store there seemed to be something for everyone. Since Morocco is so full of fossils, this is probably true.
Hindsight is 30/30
So it’s that time of year again. Better prep your Facebook newsfeed and inboxes for a flood of poetically inspired cascades of consonance and artfully articulated alliteration. That’s right, 30/30 has come again and the poet folk raise their collective heads to force out a manifestation of madness for the thirty days of April.
As any poet will tell you, it’s a grueling process (I’m already three days/poems behind). Still, there’s something very rewarding and uplifting to see the community of poets step into the light of spring just as the cold of winter is being shaken off. Perhaps the illuminating warmth of poetry is enough to counteract the eternal winter brought about by so many people singing Frozen’s “Let It Go” (we all know that’s the reason this winter has gone on so long, don’t even lie).
Of course, there have always been a lot of questions about “what is poetry anyways?” I’m somehow certain that there have been more answers given to that question than times that the question has actually been asked. It’s not our fault, really, poets love poetry! I remember when I met Pulitzer Prize Winning poet Galway Kinnell, and he described a poem as “a soft and loving thing.” Of course, I’ve written many poems that I would never in a million years describe as being soft or loving, but I think that perhaps he meant that poems have an ability to curl up inside of people–even angry poems–and touch them. Poetry can be a gentle light cuddling up inside your heart, even if it’s topic is intense or full of rage and despair. I think that this is because poems allow for a connection of thoughts from writer to poem to reader in a stream of consciousness way that prose doesn’t always necessarily convey.
Kinnell went on to give his own definition of poetry: “touching a part of your consciousness that was previously untouched; going farther into yourself.” Poetry as a sort of self-focus and self-reflective examination of the writer’s consciousness is fascinating. The poem, in this sense, is not for the reader but for the poet. However, what I’ve often found is that when it comes to writing poetry, the more specificity that the writer puts in from their own life and experience, the more relatable the poem becomes to readers. Readers can tap into that intimacy between writer and poem, which exists more strongly if the writer has experience and passion towards the topic.
Honestly,  I never really thought that I’d ever accept something as constraining as a definition for poetry–or art in general really! Something I’ve come to cherish as a writer is that writers set out to break rules. In fact, what seems to make poetry distinct from prose is that poetry breaks the normal rules of syntax and grammar in order to transform a page into a canvas for word art. Poetry operates on a visual level, a content level, and an auditory level! With so much going on, how could you possibly constrain it to a definition? But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the way we see the world as defined and separated by the idea of internal versus external. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve begun to see that there is no binary there, as there is no external reality. Everything is internal (and not necessarily just in that everything is based on perception which is internal but that perhaps we are far bigger than we give ourselves credit and to say that everything is inside of me implies that “Me” is something large enough to incorporate all things). In this way, the separation between ourselves and all the people and things around us is revealed as an illusion. However, since the world we live in seems to depend on that illusion it can be hard to break out of that perception. Hence poetry and art in general.
Poetry (in my tentative, tenuous, fluid, and ever-changing definition) is the utilization of the perception of separateness in order to promote the perception and simultaneously make manifest the unity that exists amongst all things.
