A Day For The Blogs

To Brendan, for believing I would blog again.

The death threats have started to come in because I have not only failed to blog in five months, but I have also failed to blog about one of the best days I have had in a long time. So, I am back and hopefully it will not be months before the next installment. But first a word about this piece. This blog was written over a very long period of time. Some parts were written the day after my experiences, other parts were written weeks later and some of it, very recently. I still believe the entire blog reflects the emotion of that day.

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Every once in a while there are days that serve as benchmarks for the rest of the bland, habitual, everyday days that fill the calendar throughout the year. The feeling of a particular day seems to frame our existence and give a unique perspective to the very particular day we call today. Some days are remembered as the worst days and we do anything and everything we can to prevent those kind of days from repeating.

Then there are these days:

Several weeks ago now, the 9th of November to be exact, I woke up expecting a certain kind of day. I expected to saw some logs and chop firewood, and when I finished that I would have been satisfied to catch up on the shows left on my TiVo or watch a movie. I wasn't expecting to hang out with anyone, Kevin had to work late and Brendan was supposed to house sit all day for the McWades while construction was being done on the house.

I woke up and came downstairs to find my grandfather deeply concentrating on his cryptoquote. So far, just an ordinary day. I boiled some water and made myself some oatmeal and french vanilla coffee, which I ate and drank while flipping through a magazine that was left on the kitchen table. So far, nothing exciting. Off to the shower. This is where I really start to wake up. I step out of the shower and throw on a towel, when my phone rings. It's Brendan, so I answer. He asks me if I want to go to a BU hockey game. "um...nahoh...well...um...yeah, why not...I've never been to a hockey game, so sure," I say. I almost said "no." Unbelievable. That phone call was the spark that set the rest of my day ablaze. He also needed to get some things at Wearguard, an outdoor/working gear outlet store, so we decide to meet up right away.

A few days prior I went to the Revolution soccer game in Foxboro and it was so cold that I could barely feel my feet. I was not sure what to expect for this sporting event, so I reasoned that ice is cold and a room that contains a giant block of it would probably take on the same property, so I dressed warmly. I layered. I layered my feet with two socks, I layered my chest with a thermal shirt, two shirts, a sweatshirt and a coat, I grabbed my Revolution hat, and when Brendan arrived, I was ready for anything. At least anything cold, that is.

We set out for Wearguard right away. That store is great. It is a small little outlet found in an office park and they always have too many people working the registers which has the upshot of no lines/no waiting and the down side of at least six bored little eyeballs that follow you around while you shop. It is still a great place and I usually go there at least once a year to pick up some of the warmest winter items that you can find around. There were a lot of sale items, so I was excited to zip around the little store. Brendan needed some pants and such for the job that he was about to start in the next few days. While browsing I came across a great brown leather belt and a sweet hat. I also bought a thermal undershirt since I didn't know if I would be going back before the winter really kicks in.

After Brendan and I made our purchases (no lines/no waiting), he asked what interested me for lunch. I told him that I did not care since I was not overly hungry, so Brendan decided on the place. He brought us to a small Italian eatery in Quincy called Gennaro's. This place was also great. It was small, cozy and recently renovated, with friendly servers typical of a small luncheonette. I was set to order a nice lasagna, when the specials were placed before us, handwritten on half of a sheet of wide-ruled white lined paper, clearly torn by hand. First on the list was a stuffed pepper on angel hair pasta with a breaded and fried rice ball which I believe is called an arancino. Yeah. That sounded delightfully delicious, so we both ordered it. It also tasted delightfully delicious. Not only was it amazing, it was also pretty cheap, only costing us $13 each.

So far, so good as far as days go. After lunch we headed back to Brendan's to relax, let our food settle and catch The Office and 30 Rock (which was DVRed). How gratifying. My stomach was full and I got to enjoy two of the funniest shows on TV. After we watched the hilarious shows, we headed off to Dedham to pick up Brendan's sister, Maureen and her boyfriend, Nevine. On our way to pick them up, we killed some time driving through a few different sections of Quincy, as well as a detour through a golf course where Brendan used to work. This golf course looked absolutely beautiful. If I had a camera it would be my desktop background right now. This was the perfect picturesque scene for New England. As we drove up through the golf course, we became immersed in the most beautiful fall scene. The leaves on the trees were red, yellow and tan scattered throughout a green blanket of grass hanging on to its final days before the winter paints the ground brown. The still water reflecting the surrounding scene in its calm black surface only served to multiply its beauty. Brendan mentioned that "this is how the other half lives." Yeah, it would be nice to have money. A quick drive though the grounds just couldn't compare to spending a few hours on the course even if one isn't especially skilled at golf.

When we arrived in Dedham, I explained my already amazing day to Brendan's sisters. I told them about my sweet hat purchase, tasty Gennaro's and the drive through the fall wonderland. Keep in mind that when I woke up the plan was to chop wood and finish the day as a couch potato, so just about anything different would have made the day better. After a few minutes of chatting, we headed to the hockey game with the intention of stopping to get something to eat before the game.

The tickets were given to Brendan by Kevin's aunt who obtained them from one of her clients. The tickets came with a parking pass so that we didn't have to look for parking in the city, so we drove to the Agganis Arena at BU. The VIP parking pass hung from Brendan's mirror as we drove up to the parking kiosk. Just as he approached I asked if he was going to just point to the pass. He was already planning on it. Pointing to a VIP parking pass is really the only way to go. It sends that subtle hint to the person in the kiosk that we do this all the time and highlights the Very Important Person aspect of the pass. It is a nice way of saying "there are pretty important people in this car and don't you forget it." I do mean an effective way of saying that, not necessarily a kind way. We drive up to the kiosk and Brendan points to the pass, but the woman extends her hand as if she was expecting to receive a ticket. "Oh, no," says Brendan as he sharply points to the hanging status symbol. "Yeah, I need it," the woman replied. "Oh...," Brendan says and pulls down the ticket to hand it over. She tore off the stub and gave back the top of the ticket. We were defeated. It shouldn't have happened like that. She knows now. She must know that we don't do this all the time. She knows we are phonies. After we drove away, I asked Brendan why he didn't say something like "they have never asked for the ticket before." A line like that would have saved us, and no one would have known we were fakes. I'm sure of it.

We parked and headed in the direction of the arena where we encountered a woman standing, checking tickets. Brendan flashed the handful of ours and the woman nodded and gestured toward an elevator. I whispered to Brendan, "remember, if anything happens say 'they never ... before.'" Leading up to the elevator doors was a red carpet, on which we stood waiting with a small group for the doors to open. When the doors opened a man in an official looking uniform was waiting inside. The outfit screamed, "No sir, you mustn't strain yourself pushing a button to indicate the floor to desire to be raised, allow me." We were given a second chance and learned our lesson from what happened earlier. We were calm, cool, like we have done this hundreds of times. No one in that elevator would know we were phonies.

Inertia jiggled our bodies with that familiar sensation as we rose in the elevator to the arena. On the other side of the doors, more red carpet, and a man with a scanner awaited to scan our tickets. Like sheep we each presented a ticket to be scanned and moved inward. Well, we were in the stadium, but that may not exactly have been the desired outcome at that moment in time. Brendan suspected that a scanned ticket would mean we were shut in until the end of the game, which would have been fine, but we had arrived an hour early with the intention of eating dinner before the game. Brendan asked an attendant and was told that no reentry was permitted. Imprisoned and hungry, concession food would have to do. We were doomed to eat hot dogs and cotton candy for dinner. Here's hoping they sell cotton candy. Let's first find our seats.

My ticket said section S106B, that's S as in seat 106B, row A, seat 1. But a strange thing happened when we circled the arena to find our seats. Brendan noticed that all along the arena were doors labeled with numbers very similar to the numbers on our tickets. 101,102,103, 104, 105, 106A, 106B. "I think we are in this room," said Brendan with a look that was part excitement and part disbelief in what he was about to confirm. He turned the knob on the door, unlocked, and swung it open. On the other side a small little room with 4 perfect seats, illuminated from heaven, with a perfect view of the rink below. Simultaneously we, the 4 of us, were all blown away by the realization: that's S as in SUITE 106B. We had seats in a personal suite. It had the 4 seats, a little fridge, a little sink, a menu with food to order, a place to hang coats. It was unbelievable. Suddenly those hot dogs didn't seem so bad if we could enjoy them in comfortable, secluded chairs in perfect view of the ice. After a round of saying "Oh, my God" and we collected our jaws from the ground, Maureen and Nevine left to scope out the available food in the area. About a minute later, they returned, and Maureen said that Nevine just noticed that our tickets said "Club Access."

Was it possible? Club Access? Yep. We had just been catapulted even further into an even more amazing experience. Hot dogs would no longer do. We scurried out of the suite and down the corridor to access the club to which our tickets entitled us. Our tickets were punched and we flowed into a gigantic room filled with tables and people enjoying meals. All along the back wall were buffet tables and carving stations. Pork loin sandwiches and fresh stir fry, salads and deserts. We grabbed plates with the look of overwhelming shock on our faces still as fresh as the salads laid out behind us.

I grabbed some pork and bread and stood together with Brendan, Maureen and Nevine. We were forced to stand because all the tables were taken, so we moved to a spot that was a little less in the way, over to one side of the room. We had left behind common people parking, common people seats, common people hot dogs and had, what felt like, bluffed our way to VIP parking, seats, and hot dogs (pork sandwiches, that is), so to stand and eat our meal didn't seem so bad. We all were grinning as we stood in a small circle, holding our plates with one hand and enjoying the delectable meal under our noses. We stood like that for a minute or two before the people at the table just to our right began to stir. Eight eyes sharply glanced to the movement with the eagerness of a predator honing in on weak prey. As the members of the table collected their belongings, our group poised, ready to snatch up the soon to be free table. The table was free for less than a moment before we surrounded it, perfectly coordinated, like wolves on fresh meat. One would have missed the change over from one group at the table to the next with a prolonged blink.

Now standing did seem so bad. We had it all now, and it was becoming the perfect experience. I was enjoying my pork sandwich, and I don't even like pork, but free pork just tastes so much better. Behind our table a man, probably a student, stood with the single job of handing out little bottles of Pepsi from an ice bucket. Naturally, we snatched a few of those up. It was delicious, and I don't even like Pepsi, but a free Pepsi just tastes so much better. Since we had a place to sit, relax and enjoy our meals, I decided, after I finished, that I would go back for seconds. This time around I tried the stir fry. Once again, it was delicious, with vegetables, beef and mushrooms, and I don't even like mushrooms. It certainly was "a wonderful restaurant." (A side note, here. Something else that helped to put this day over the top was the random sprinkling of Arrested Development quotes that popped up throughout the day. I don't remember any particular quotes or times that they were used, but I do know they were scattered evenly through the day.)

After the meal, it was back to our seats. You remember, the ones from heaven. They were as amazing to sit in as I had hoped. It was a perfect view of the ice, we didn't have to deal with fans' heads in our way, and I was wrong about a giant block of ice cooling down the arena. I had overdressed, it was a perfect temperature in our suite. I don't really follow hockey, which may seem like a waste for someone like me to have box seats, but I have to say even with virtually no knowledge of the sport, it looked impressive from where I was sitting. Brendan gave me a rundown of the basic rules of the game, and I was excited to take it all in. BU scored within the first minute. A sign that this would be a great game on top of it all. UMASS tied it up shortly after, then scored again. BU was able to tie it up, then UMASS pulled ahead once again, and ended the game with a shot in an open net as BU scrambled to try to tie again in the final seconds. It was an exciting game and remarkable how hard both sides played. I am not a real fan of either team, so seeing BU lose didn't really affect me at all, besides I was too busy enjoying the experience.

While the game was going on, a pretty young Asian woman, probably a student, came in to let us know that she would be our personal server while the game was being played. Her name was Jessica, she had a big smile and she was very friendly. She came in to check on us a few times, but because we had just eaten we had nothing to request. On the way home, we talked about how nice Jessica was and how much we wish we could have brought her home with us. Somehow getting into a car accident came up, so I said that if I got hurt I would do whatever it took to crawl out and I would say in a weak voice to the EMT, "Please, give this to Jessica she'll know what to do," while I handed him the ticket. The EMT would say, "Jessica Who?" to which I would reply, simply "Yeah, her."

I feel like I rushed through some important parts of the day, so it may seem like they weren't important, but everything that I mentioned here was a perfect memory. The day seemed to get exponentially better, each perfect experience followed by another kept stacking up precariously like a game of Jenga, each moment more satisfying than the one before it because the tower of delight never fell.

Days like that are special in a very specific way: they surprise us. They are the benchmark for the excitement and spontaneity that each day can contain. The everyday mundane can sometimes trick us into expecting the bland and uneventful. I think a day like that gives us hope that maybe, at any moment, what we expect will be shattered and we will be suddenly consumed by excitement and bliss. That kind of day brings the abstract idea of spontaneity into reality for a short period of time and links it with emotion that can be called upon like a crutch in times of crippling monotony. It has been nearly two months since that day and although I can recall each event of that day if I care to stop and recite them, it is the emotion of the day that I call up first. The feeling of excitement and surprise is more vivid and lasting than my memory of the score of the hockey game, and is the reason I will not soon forget the events associated with the euphoria of the day it took me so long to blog about.

The 16 Scene Puzzle

I tried to blog every day, but then I ran into a patch where I didn't have anything to write about. It has been 11 days since my last post and now I have too much to talk about. Just this weekend I watched 7 movies, and I could do a blog about each one. There was Sunshine, The Simpsons Movie and Hotel Harabati that I saw in theaters and The Tao of Steve, Into the Blue (blu-ray), The Full-Metal Alchemist (Anime), The Secrets of Nikola Tesla.
I'll start with Sunshine. If you don't like sci-fi, I don't think you would like this movie. I really liked it, and that wasn't just because I was the only person in the theater when I watched it. I guess it was just no competition with The Simpsons Movie playing at the same time. This movie had elements that reminded me of Alien, 2001 A Space Odyssey, 28 Days Later and The Fountain. The movie begins on Icarus 2 on a mission to reignite a dying Sun after the first mission to do the same failed. The movie really does a great job maintaining suspense throughout. I just don't know why they named the first space ship Icarus, that just seems like bad luck and to not change the name for the second mission just seems like testing fate.
The Simpsons Movie was just great. I honestly didn't have many expectations for this movie. I do enjoy the Simpson when I catch it on TV, but I am a fan that does not actively seek it out. I don't really get excited for new episodes, and I don't even think that I have a favorite episode or character. I guess I just take for granted that the Simpsons will make me laugh with it's perfect comedic timing, wit, sarcasm and ridiculous situations. That said, I was far from disappointed with this movie. I enjoyed the movie from start to finish and laughed the whole way through. I would recommend it to anyone that likes the Simpsons. They didn't ruin any characters and it was much better than an average episode of the show.
The last movie that I saw in the theater this weekend is the one I really want to talk about. Yesterday I went to the MFA in Boston to catch the end of the French Film Festival that was held this month. I had never been to the MFA, and I guess technically I still haven't -- but I intend to go back. The film that I watched was called Hotel Harabati. I really want to say that I liked this movie. I really do. But I find it as hard to state my opinion of this movie as I do to state my opinion of a movie that I never finished. The most I can say is that I liked the scenes in the movie, but not the movie as a whole. It seemed like this movie was never finished. I thought that I read all of the subtitles, despite the woman in front of me moving her head every five minutes. I looked online for an explanation to this movie, and I found none. I found that the director deliberately left holes in the movie, to be filled in, and said things like "Yes, it is a puzzle, but life is a puzzle" when asked about it. This is not really fair. It isn't enough to string together scenes an expect a story to pop out of it. You have to have a story in mind, and tell it through scenes. That is how storytelling works no matter the medium. I get the distinct impression that there really wasn't a story behind the film. If I don't understand the story, I cannot understand what the director or writer is trying to tell me. One of the big reasons that I like movies is because through story/art things about the human nature or life are revealed. Little nuggets of life lessons that really can't be summed up in a single sentence. The nuggets take an hour or two to tell, but they usually do tell. This film cheated. It wants me to use nuggets I already have to make it work as a story, but the problem is they don't fit. Usually if a movie is missing plot or character elements, two things can happen: Either they are revealed at the end in a moment that takes you by surprise but leaves you thinking that you should have figured it out but didn't, or what is left out can only be explained with one explanation that makes sense logically within the confines of the story. This movie either doesn't make sense or it was so poorly put together that not everyone can understand it. The director claims that it is a puzzle, but a puzzle has two qualities that this movie does not. In a puzzle, every piece is used, explained or used to aid in explanation, and these explanations must be logically sound. It is not enough if the answer is just "It was a dream the whole time, so none of it makes sense --hahaha what a great puzzle." You have to have provided some clue to let me know that a dream world is a viable possibility within the story. I am not saying that I believe that Hotel Harabati was supposed to be a dream, I am saying that I don't know enough to rule that out as an option. Without enough information, sometimes a puzzle can never be solved. It reminds me of the 16 square puzzle. At almost every dollar store you can find a puzzle that is has 4 rows and 4 columns and 15 boxes numbered 1 to 15 and usually a circle occupying the 16th spot to keep everything tight. You remove the circle and slide the boxes around to scramble it and try to get the numbers back. Most everyone knows this puzzle, but here is the thing about this puzzle that most people don't know. If you start the puzzle with it solved, and scramble it and give it to someone and they can't solve it, you can laugh at them. Because you know there is a way to get all of the numbers in numerical order, but if you cheat and break the puzzle so the pieces fall out and put the numbers back together scrambled, there is a 50/50 chance that that puzzle is unsolvable. Which means that if you give that to someone to solve and they can't, you can't laugh because you don't know if it is solvable at all. In the same way, scrambled scenes aren't enough to make a movie. Just because they are numbered 1 to 15 doesn't mean that you can make them make sense. Until I hear a real explanation of what happened in this movie, or what it is about, I am going to treat it like a broken 16 square puzzle.

A Creativity Tree

I haven't said this yet on the blog, but I should mention before I go any further that I am 24 years old and I don't know anything. Okay, I know some things but nothing substantial or original. I have always gotten good grades throughout my educational career, As and Bs my whole life (with 2 exceptions, if I remember correctly). I went to a pretty good private high school, a pretty good college, and I came away with a bachelor's degree in mathematics and a 3.66 cumulative average.
My math degree is probably the biggest regret of my life. It's not that I'm not good at math, it's that a degree in math is doomed to be understood. Math is not just arithmetic, algebra or calculus. Mathematics does include all of these branches and more, much more, but Math is more about describing consistent, logical systems. A degree in Math does not make you a master of these branches, --I am ironically still embarrassingly terrible with arithmetic-- a degree in Math only says that you have climbed some of these branches. There is no one alive today that is proficient in all the branches of Math, it is simply not possible, the tree is too big. Math is a lot like a tree, and learning it is a lot like climbing. Each branch is logically connected to another, but not all of the branches touch. Navigating even one branch can be very difficult, but persistence is the real secret to moving forward. Thus, a degree in Math is really a degree that says I am persistent and I know how to navigate logically from one point to another. Math has trained me to always move cautiously and deliberately, but creativity requires the exact opposite skill.
When I look at the world, what I see is a place where things interact with other things and make things happen. That is, blank does blank to blank and make blank happen. I have a kind of x-ray vision or interaction vision. I know I'm not the only person that sees the world this way, but I don't believe that everyone sees the world this way. My boss for instance sees the world in terms of monetary value. Everything that he sees in the world is translated into what he perceives its dollar value to be. When I look outside at trees, I have an understanding of how they work and how important they to their ecosystems. They provide homes for birds, and oxygen and shade for us. But trees are not doing this because it is logical, and nor is it creative. The tree just exists and interactions developed around it naturally which can be explained in logical systems like biology and chemistry. Creativity requires more than just existing in a random way, and so even understanding nature cannot help me develop my skill.
This brings me back to my original point: I don't know anything; I'm still learning. I can arrive at answers through brute force logic, and although this is indeed a powerful skill, it is still exceedingly difficult for me to come up with good, original ideas. I can look around and follow abstract interactions and relationships, but I find it very hard to imagine outside the limits of science understanding. I hope that this blog will help me to organize my thoughts, and I hope to use it as scrap paper for new ideas, good, bad, possible and not possible. This blog can help me to develop a new kind of tree that will be unlike both the metaphorical math tree that grew out of a seed planted firmly in logic and the tree outside that grew from a seed buried in reality. This creativity tree will start in my mind and will become nourished and strengthened by understanding and logic in the hope of bearing real fruit that I can share.

Review: City of God

This was a powerful movie. It is a bit too gritty and realistic for my taste, but it was well done nonetheless. This is a Brazilian film, so it is not for those who do not like foreign films or subtitles. It is a story about a journalist/photographer who grew up in the slums of Brazil and witnesses his hometown reshaped by drugs, hoodlums, gangs and ultimately a massive gang war. I liked the way the story was told. Each section of the story was supplemented by a history of the character which explained each character's motivations and perspective. This detailed insight into each character's life allowed us to relate to or at least understand the motivation behind each person's actions. Almost every main character was given significant depth and each interaction was believably human and often frighteningly real. The feeling that these characters are driven by very primitive emotion resonated throughout the film and was reinforced by the barren, harsh, third-world setting where everyone and everything struggles. The simplicity of the film highlights human nature in its survival state, where every character is either fighting or fleeing from someone or something. There is plenty of violence and death, but the most powerful scenes are the ones that forces us to accept that each character is motivated by a kill-or-be-killed world that seems to be free from moral standards. In the City of God, even children commit serious crime and acts of violence, mimicking their elder hoodlum role models. In a way all of the characters in the film are children and although they find power in numbers and are fortified with weapons, unguided and reckless they are doomed from the start. Although this is not a movie for those who cannot stomach gritty, violent scenes, it is a thought provoking movie that is worth two hours of your time.

Sheba

"Hello," meaning good-bye, I said to the relatives in the kitchen that I didn't want to talk to. The trick is to say "hello" but not slow down or speed up at all as you make your way through the room and out the door. This way it doesn't seem like you're trying to avoid them, as speeding up would give away, nor are you interested in a nice leisurely talk as slowing down would indicate. Success! Christina and I made it out of the house from our rooms in record time, and the best part is neither of us needed to be sacrificed to get the other out. It was a successful mutual rescue operation. As we made our way down the driveway to her car parked out front, I stopped at the mailbox for yesterday's mail. In it I found two magazines, some kind of bill or junkmail, and an all black box with gold lettering, about the size of a birthday card and an inch thick sealed in heat-shrink plastic. The box was right on top of the mail and addressed to Christina from (and i'm sure with love) Stop and Shop. Before I had a chance to close the mailbox (nothing of interest for me in there) Christina read the label and snatched the packaged addressed to her from the top of the pile. She was grinning, I was jealous. I knew as well as she that not only was this free gift FREE, it also could not disappoint. No box this beautiful could contain anything but an amazing treat. We got in the car and she immediately started to tear at the package to no avail. The darn plastic was tougher than cowhide. "Stop and Shop loves me more than you," she said to me almost under her breath. She reached for anything that she thought could puncture this invisible forcefield keeping her from her rightful prize inside. She tried tearing it with her teeth and poking it with her fingernails; nothing was working. Finally she was able to tear it off by first skewering it with a metal pin within her desperate grasp. The box would not open from the end as she expected. It taunted her. "I'm going to get chocolate!" I could see her eyes were bright and eager to catch the first glimpse of what was inside in the hopes of soothing the anxiety of not knowing. It seemed like a top flap was glued down, so she lifted one corner and the pried the other corner free from the glue's hold. She lifted the top and swung it open on it's hinge to reveal the treasure to both of us at the same time. Inside the box was a golden circle nestled in a custom fit depression, and on the reverse side of the flap, slightly covered by her thumb was a giant picture of a black cat. "Oh!" we both cried out simultaneously, followed immediately by embarrassed laughter like we were each caught on a hidden camera show. It was cat food! Upon further inspection of the mystical black box, it turned out that there were plenty of indications that the gift was cat food were we to only read the secrets hidden in the beautiful gold lettering. Phrases like "Sheba cat food" and "cuts of meat," suddenly popped off the black box in a ridiculing way. At least The Kitten will enjoy Christina's gift tonight.

Is it the Japanese language or just in the translation?

Questions. That's the dead giveaway for Japanese games. Well, at least the ones that started as Japanese games and were just translated into English. I can stand the stereotypical cartoon characters that don't resemble their race at all (aside from the pointy, spiky hair, maybe), and the mouth movements that don't agree with what they are saying is just a casualty of translation. I can deal with those things, but I find the most annoying thing about Japanese translated games are all the questions that could easily be translated into a declarative statement. For instance we always hear "Are you insane?" which could easily be "You are insane." Now it is my understanding that there are 4 types of sentences: declarative, interrogative, exclamatory, and imperative. It also seems to me that most sentences in English are declarative, but this class of sentence is rarely used in Japanese statements. There are far too many interrogatives and if it isn't the imperative directly followed by an insult, for instance "Run! You fool!" then it is some other kind of exclamatory statement, which just leads me to believe that they are a very excitable group of people.
I took particular notice of this trend last night after I downloaded and began to play the Gundam Demo on the PS3. The game starts with the picture of a planet, and we are told that it is headed toward Earth. Then it says, "Is this a normal planet or some kind of weapon?" How would I know whether it is a weapon or not. It looks like a planet. Just tell me that this is not ordinary planet, and it is some kind of massive, crazy, unimaginable, planet-weapon with amazing destruction capabilities with which, I assume, any planet-weapon is fully equip. Why ask? Why? Just tell your story, I'll listen and when it comes time to destroy the planet-weapon, I'll help, but until then, no more questions. A little later there was some dialog between two of the characters and I noticed the same trend. Question marks and exclamation marks are over used. Now I understand we are dealing with a planet-weapon, and I would be excited too, but someone has to keep a cool head. Let's all just calm down, stop asking rhetorical questions and make some clear declarative statements.
It turned out that I didn't really like the game play too much anyhow, so I uninstalled the demo regardless of translation problems, but I thought I would mention this little annoyance because I think it has to stop.
Disclaimer: I am a very tolerant person, and I don't condone any type of racism. In this article I was just making observations about Japanese to English translations. I was not making generalizations of any kind about the Japanese people, those will come later. ;)

I Love Blu-ray.

Last night I spent about 5 hours watching Blu-ray DVDs. I absolutely love high definition. I didn't buy these DVDs. Netflix sends out the Blu-ray movies as they become available and I was itching for a high-def experience, so I moved some Blu-ray movies to the top of my queue. I watched Rumor Has It, Failure to Launch, and L4yer Cake. I wasn't expecting too much from Rumor Has It, but even with low expectations I was disappointed. Failure to Launch did slightly exceed my low expectations, and Layer Cake met my middle-of-the-road expectations. Since none of the movies were exceedingly special on their own, I'd like to talk about the new face of DVD.
The new DVD actually has two faces. There is Blu-ray and HD-DVD. They are competing format of the same kind of thing: a cleaner, sharper, more beautiful movie experience. The sound is better, and the picture quality is amazing. But the Blu-ray/HD-DVD war is a silly one. The hardware companies could not agree on a format so they decided to "let the market decide." Which is the same as not deciding at all. To the consumer, there is not much difference between Blu-ray and HD-DVD as far as quality goes. One format does not have a clear advantage over the other, it is like deciding between MP3 and WMA when ripping your CDs in Media Player. When it comes down to it no one really cares. So this war is not really decided by the product or by which format is "better," your votes are cast by your brand loyalty. I have a PS3, so my vote is for Blu-ray, according to "the market deciding" anyway. But really my vote was cast when I bought the PS3, because it only plays Blu-ray. The same can be said for HD-DVD and the Xbox360. No one has an Xbox360 and says "you know Blu-ray is clearly better, so I'm going to buy a Blu-ray player instead of the HD-DVD attachment." Again, your vote is cast with the Xbox. Both are equal in quality and price, the only reason I want Blu-ray to "win" is so I don't have to buy an extra device for my already cluttered home entertainment "cabinet."
I should note that the better experience does not lie within the Blu-ray or HD-DVD itself, these new DVDs only contain the information that will yield a better picture and sound if you have the right equipment to take advantage of it. For instance, I personally do not really benefit from the better sound embedded in the Blu-ray because I only have a simple 5.1 surround that is geared for PC games and regular DVDs. But I do notice the picture upgrade. Watching a regular DVD you don't really notice that there is room for improvement in the same way that no one looked at VHS and noticed the poor quality.
I have my PS3 plugged in to a 720p projector shines on a drop-down screen and makes an image that is about 60-65" on the diagonal. It's big and love how movies look on projection. I think it captures the feel of the movie theater, although I'm still working on stadium seating to produce the full effect. Even without sticky floors and someone's head in line of sight, if you make some popcorn and grab an overpriced drink, its as good as an experience as the movies if you ask me.

Said the taxidermy head.

"Douglas! Douglas!" I heard faintly from upstairs as I reached for the front door to leave for work.
I turn to see Christina pop out from the wall. "You forgot to tell them that your little sister is your best friend." She had just finished reading my new blog. She resembled a moose head, though without the antlers and moose face. She spoke to me with her head and shoulders sticking out of the wall and a giant grin that made it seem like she knew what she was doing looked ridiculous, so I didn't mention it. It wasn't magic that allowed her to pop in and out of walls and looking like taxidermy, in fact she can't do it at will at all. This particular room in the house has an octagon shaped hole in it that allows the heat from the fireplace to rise and heat the upstairs (very efficiently might I add). It is called "the hole," or "the octagon" but most often "Natalie's Octagon" because in the winter it becomes a permanent residence for my mother's cat, Natalie. That cat, like my mother, hates to be cold in the winter. When everyone else in New England is suffering from frostbite in their own homes, we enjoy tank tops and Bermuda shorts. You will rarely find it to be less than 80 degrees in our house between October and April.
Christina is right though, I didn't mention her. She is my little sister, but only little in size, not age. She's 20 and in college right now but just recently decided to pursue two careers: Optometrist and Rock Star (I don't see why she can't do both). I'm sure she will come up again and again because like she says she's my shadow. I have an older sister as well. Theresa is in no way any less ridiculous than Christina even though she is 7 years older. You can always tell a Theresa from their jingles. Theresa wears thin bangle bracelets that make noise constantly. It's not annoying at all, in the same way that a rattlesnakes rattle isn't annoying but just a defining part of it, but she doesn't use it as a defensive warning signal. I'm sure Theresa, too, will come
up again even though she doesn't talk to me through walls.

Less critical; more opinion

I love movies. Let's start with that. I really can't be ask cruel or unforgiving about the movies that I watch. That goes for the games I play and books I read as well. I understand that everyone tells stories in different ways with different production budgets and different visions. I appreciate the differences between movies, and unlike critics I don't put them down for trying something new or being unique. However, not all movies are safe from a poor review from me. Recently I saw Ghostrider on DVD. This was a bad movie. In fact there is little redeeming about the movie. Here are some quick things I didn't like about the movie:
For starters, the story was cheesy. I usually like superhero movies, and I can watch a man turn into a skeleton with a flaming skull and say "Yep, nothing strange about that at all." So it's not that the story is about a man who is enslaved to the Devil, the problem is that there is nothing in this movie that ties it to any reality. The acting is terrible, so I don't believe in the characters, and the CGI was even worse. Like I said, a man can be consumed by hellfire, but if he swings a chain around i expect it to act according to earthly physical laws unless it is clearly stated that his supernatural powers include bending such laws. These are only superficial inconsistencies that are the anti-cherry on top of this disgusting excuse for a movie.
Again, I usually like movies and I hope to publish some more quick opinions about movies and possibly games. I didn't set out to post a review of Ghostrider, my point here was to illustrate from the beginning that I don't love all movies, even though most of my opinions are usually positively biased. I just want to post my thoughts and keep a record of my opinion as a kind of exercise in writing and reviewing, and as a way to share my excitement or vent my disappointment for the things I love and hate, respectively.

Just a random day

I guess I felt like doing something different today. I didn't want to play a PS3 game. I didn't want to read. I didn't want to browse the internet. I didn't want to play World of Warcraft. I didn't want to watch a movie. I didn't want to fix anything or clean up my room. I didn't want to talk on the phone. So I made this blog.

I don't really ever do anything exiting or new. My life is boring most would say. Uneventful from an outsider's perspective and, well, uneventful from an insider's perspective, too, let me tell you. I'm not a real outgoing person, and if I'm being honest, I don't really think think that I am too interesting. But I'm practical and rational (most of the time) and I can fix things. All this translates to a person that looks pretty drab on paper. Well...It's nice to meet you. My name is Doug. And this is my blog.