Creative Title

Now, generally, I try to be a very logical person… despite my major being a humanity. This is strongly counteracted by my natural inclination towards emotionality, but I believe I’ve been relatively successful at this endeavor. However, a large part of being regularly logical is having a specific outlet through which one may allow emotion to be expressed. For the majority of people, I’m sure, this is through the various arts.

Now, artwork is a funny thing. As with anything in the physical world, it can be studied and somewhat described in terms of what does or doesn’t work (see Aristotle’s Poetics for an example of this type of interpretation). That is to say, it can be broken up into individual pieces to be, say, taught or more deeply observed, and then discussed in various ways in the search for meaning.

Of course, a defining feature of art is the manipulation of emotion, which is a thing more difficult to measure than… well, it’s practically immeasurable. Not only that, but the emotional effect for one person could easily be different than–or even the complete opposite of–someone else’s feelings upon observation. This, then, makes it hard to determine whether or not a piece “works” in a certain sense. Since we’re nearing a point at which I risk losing myself, I’ll go ahead and break up types of art into four categories.

There is the ambiguous, the beautiful, the meaningful, and the emotional. Then, of course, there can be a fifth category, perhaps as a sub-section of the ambiguous art, of basically “stuff I don’t get” or–more commonly–modern art.

By ambiguous, I mean something that holds multiple possible meanings. Frankly, this is perhaps my favorite of these. It is somewhat all-encompassing of the others in that, no matter what the creator was trying to get across (not that that isn’t important to the piece), each observer can pull any number of different messages, emotions, or even (perhaps) types of beauty from it. This is part of why I enjoy Muse so much (told you I’d bring them up again); it’s often unclear what, exactly, a given song by them is about. Probably the most inexplicit example if one is to judge by lyrics alone is Hoodoo (lyrics here, since Brits apparently can’t enunciate (just kidding, redcoats!)). Another somewhat lesser example might be Invincible, which only comes to mind since the engine of this train was a conversation with my mom about that song. The video, actually, has a wider variety of meaning than the work itself, but I feel it counts, regardless.

Then, there are more levels of ambiguity to be analyzed. The next consists of things that at first seem somewhat odd, but maybe even turn out to tell something about the observer. Sort of like an inkblot test-type thing (yeah, it’s on the mind now). My aunt recently gave me something that may be categorized under this sub-category, pictured here:

In case the camera-phone picture quality isn’t absolutely perfect, it’s a man sitting cross-legged with his head in his hands. The aunt saw it as a sort of buddha, meditation-like figure, whereas I immediately said he was crying, and my mom thought he was just tired. If you knew us, it could easily be inferred that this might be a mere reflection of our general personalities (not that I cry constantly, but I can be somewhat prone to depression).

There is an incredibly thin line between that and artwork so abstract as to be meaningless without some snob to interpret (often based on what the creator intended, I might add). You know what I mean by this; starting with Picasso, moving on to lazy deepness (1st picture) and Homer Simpson (WTF? No picture anywhere of the grill in that episode? Geez…). I mean, I guess it could theoretically fall under the last category described, with the exception that those spoken of above are clearly something (the inkblot tests are not art, by the way; merely a psychoanalytical tool). I’ll concede that they are somewhat abstract compared to other ambiguous pieces of artwork, but are still recognizable.

To go to the other end of the spectrum, there is art created for the simple purpose of being beautiful. Any story that’s told just to be a good story, Michelangelo’s David (SFW? Eh, everyone knows what I’m talking about anyways), and really anything of the sort. Frankly, this is somewhat of a rarity. Generally, creative inspiration spawns from something the artist feels or thinks that needs to be let out and shown to the world. That’s not to say things can’t be created for non-emotional purposes and be interpreted to have meaning that wasn’t intended; nor is it impossible that one may fully appreciate something purely on basis of its beauty, meaning be damned (guilty of that one, here). Frankly, this whole thing is just observation since, again, this is the only extent to which art can be more definitively interpreted; the rest is purely from the artist’s mind.

I called this next one meaningful for the sake of not having to go look for a more accurate term. Really, though, it’s the kind of art that is created in order to get a message across–some sort of larger purpose, perhaps. To most extremely illustrate this point, there’s Atlas Shrugged. There are also, of course, various pro- and anti-warAmerica(?) songs (the latter of which I refuse to listen to. You’ll be forgiven if you don’t click the link), along with every Disney movie ever made (for the most part). These are made to teach rather than please, and indeed can be far closer to rhetoric than a strict definition of art. However, I still believe it counts, because not only is it indirect and usually very subtle in the presentation of its arguments, but it also manages to (usually!) make something beautiful and/or pathetic (you really need to click the link to get the correct meaning from that) in the process.

Which brings me to emotional types of art, which somewhat radiates throughout all aforementioned categories. It is created of emotion, by emotion, and for emotion. Not only is it present in all of my former categories, but it transverses across all artistic mediums. Paint, poetry, prose, music (old and new. And new about old, somewhat), photography, cooking, quiltmaking, and so on forever (I decided not to try for some of the more obscure forms). Artwork at its best inspires feeling in the audience, plain and simple. Doesn’t much matter what it is, though one would hope they don’t laugh at at your tragedy or vice versa.

Wow. So, uh, yeah… apparently Wrath of the Lich King has made WoW rather fun for me (not to mention the fact that my sister, mom, and I have a sort of bet about reaching 80 by Christmas). Of course, there have also been other contributing factors to my lack of posting, most notably a renewed interest in the line of stories begun by my graduation project, and my actually making a friend.

I’d link to some post mentioning the grad. project, but I’m really kind of embarassed about my earlier posts (heck even some of the more recent stuff). Basically, if you are of the uninitiated, it was a novella. I’ve realized this week that the beginning really kind of sucked, but am viewing that as a good thing. Particularly since my beginnings have been starting to be pretty nice lately (er… nice as in good. I think someone dies in all of them). Now I just need to work on middles and ends.

So, in relation to making the friend (Devil’s Advocate Guy), I read Watchmen this week. I borrowed it from him, actually. There’s the connection, then.

Un-Spoiler version:

Overall impression: Rather awesome! The movie had better not screw it up (ironically, that trailer uses a song by Muse, which I plan to talk about in another post soon). Zack Snyder generally seems good about that (I think?), but we’ll see.

So, it begins where The Comedian, one of a number of retired superheroes, is murdered. Rorschach–one of the best characters ever invented, and emphasized in my mind by the Psychology reference–thinks it’s because he was a superhero, and tries to convince oter heroes of this since they all may be in danger, but they all think he’s just gone nuts… which, frankly, isn’t a terribly far-fetched suspicion. Sure enough, more events transpire within the next… something like 2 weeks that lend credence to this theory.

Well, that’s probably about all I can say about the main plot without giving away too much. Of course, there are a number of other storylines intersecting this one and each other; everyone’s past lives, how they all know each other, the probable upcoming nuclear war (note: this takes place in 1985; wasn’t published long after), the odd bits of pirate comic some guy keeps reading at a newsstand… all strangely–and perhaps ingeniously–interconnected.

Frankly, I was also fascinated by the various ways in which some characters talked, but that’s only due to my currently taking a course in Linguistics, so I’ll not go into it. It’s just the communicativity of obviously somewhat broken English.

Beyond that, again, there’s not too much that can allowably be said. It was far more interesting than I can possibly make it sound here; well-drawn, well-told, great story. Didn’t actually see the ending coming; the foreshadowing wasn’t anywhere near obvious, though still present. You just don’t know what it all means until it comes together.

Spoiler Version: Only read if you already know the ending.

The moral is, kids, don’t ever stick to your morals.

So, Jon (blue guy) is sort of pushed into going to Mars, the rich sellout guy who’s interested in Ancient Egypt is almost assassinated, and Rorschach himself is framed and taken in by the police where his identity is revealed–an incredibly terrible thing to happen to him, considering he’d kept it completely secret from even his closest comrades up until that point. Man, was he pissed off about that. So those are the events that lead some of the others to believe the original theory of someone picking off the old heroes.

Unfortunately for them, Rorschach is still in prison. So, long story short, they (sort of) eventually bust him out and he once again becomes awesome. They find out that Ozymandias–the sellout guy–is the one behind it all. Gasp! Rorschach writes it all in his journal and drops the journal off at a news outlet. This becomes significant at the very, very end.

And it was the very end that really has me still thinking. The fact that one of their old friends was really the one pulling the strings is only a minor surprise. No, the real shocker is that he gets away with it. He somehow manages to convince all but Rorschach to keep quiet about the fact that he’d just killed 1/2 of New York (in order to bring solidarity to the world and thereby an end to all war… yeah). Still don’t really get why they all decided to “compromise” as they put it, but I can suspend disbelief–particularly due to the upcoming war in the comic. Rorschach walks away all awesome-like to head back to America and tell the world, despite knowing that he’s almost completely discredited amongst everyone there, particularly since his arrest. But that doesn’t really matter in the end, since Jon, the blue guy, comes out and vaporizes him, bringing a somewhat anticlimactic end to the great Rorschach.

So, later on, the world is still united over the people Ozymandias killed in New York, and the people at the news outlet where Rorschach dropped his journal off finally pick up the damn thing… and that’s the end.

Originally, I was really kind of annoyed at this all. I mean, Rorschach died a miserable death after a rather miserable life that was far worse than he deserved, the amoral guy that caused it all got completely off the hook, and it’s pretty clear that the plan worked–the murder of 3 million people by teleporting some grotesque creature into the middle of New York put an end to all war. Perhaps this is something harder to swallow now than in the 1980’s, since a tragedy like 9/11 did unite America (note: only one single country/commnunity) for a short while, we soon grew to be at least just as divided as only seven years ago before the attacks. Heck, even World War Z (which I’ll review shortly, once I finish it) makes the point that I am; even in the face of Armageddon, even one not at all caused by humans, people will still be fighting each other. It is simply not in human nature to love and care for everyone. Disagreements become fights, fights grow into battles, battles create wars. It’s part of the independent thought processes that make us great.

But hey, perhaps that’s mildly implied in the very last scene. The boss at the newspaper is angry that he has nothing to run since the Russians are no longer America’s enemies–so much so that there’s even a new Russian burger place down the street. The sort of assistant there, of course after dropping some ketchup on his smiley-face shirt to resemble the repeated imagery of the bloody smiley-face pin from when The Comedian was killed, then reaches for Rorschach’s journal in the pile of junk to run if there’s nothing else, and that’s the end of the story. Sort of. It is stated in there that “nothing ever ends”, so perhaps the point wasn’t so much that the plan worked as that it couldn’t work. There’s no real ending making it certain either way; only everybody thinking and saying that there will be world peace because of the devastation, and then everyone will soon read Rorschach’s journal. That’s it.

There’s a very fine line between making the reader think and making no damn sense whatsoever. This comes very close to that, but still ends up on the right side. Just barely, but frankly, I loved it.

See ya!

Naw, I can’t even play ’til Monday, due to my lack of ability to go anywhere to get it… and obsession over the game (that is, lack of obsession). I will, however, be spending just about all of today getting the rest of the way to 70 (<1.5 levels left!), particularly since everyone else will be preoccupied questing in Northrend instead of killing me. Probably going to shoot something out here over the weekend, though. Meanwhile, courtesy of one of the Resident Evil movies (the third?).

While we’re on the topic of games, actually, best song ever. It’s things like that that make me almost wish I cared about things like that enough to spend hundreds on a console.

A few things are going on right now (still). 1: I stayed up until 3:30 am working on an Archaeology project. It was fun, but I think I got started a little late (but at least I know darn well how to work Excel now). 2: The wedding pictures came in today, for which I abandoned the post I was going to write. I don’t think I liked it anyways, so it was a fortunate occurrence. Finally, 3: Wrath of the Lich King comes out Thursday. Since I’m still at the dorm, I won’t be able to get it until Friday and play it until Monday, but that still only leaves me a few more hours to go through the 2 levels and 1 bar I have left for 70. The goal is to try and stay around the level everyone else is just after the expansion so they don’t all kill me constantly a month in while waiting for their guild members to do the same (and thus be able to raid or whatnot). I have a feeling I’ll fail in this attempt, but I oughta try. Or, perhaps, just start the expansion with a Death Knight. We’ll see.

So anyways, here’s a picture of the wedding a couple weeks back. It wasn’t taken by the hired photographer, since hers are so far only on her site where I can’t copy or save any.  Therefore, this is all you get:

It was really a great day.

And, just in case some random wedding doesn’t absolutely fascinate you, a string of songs (one of those times I just can’t pick one). Lonely is the night when you get a Rush after surviving being terminated and breaking down. Think what you will about The Sarah Connor Chronicles, it (generally) kicks at least the third movie’s butt (at least, because of the 4th in ‘09. We’ll see, Christian Bale.), and that song is awesome regardless of context. And, uh, the “surviving” link relates to the band, not any number of variations on I Will Survive or the reality show.

Apparently, there’s a blogging scholarship now. I find this of importance because I think I recently joked that there should be one. The problem is, I can’t remember if I was talking to someone else or just myself. Nonetheless, it’s an interesting concept–oughta keep it in mind next year.

As long as it gets the message across, it’s linguistically proper. Just in case, though:

Pedestalization: n. the act of holding someone in such high regard that it seems that they can do no wrong; metaphorically putting someone on a pedestal.

As with many things I explore on here, this seems to be just one of those natural human actions that has a tendency to screw everyone over (see: 2008 election). We tend to like black and white situations, and why not? They’re simple to work through: A is bad, B is good, let’s go with B; not exactly intellectually challenging.

Of course, life is never that simple. That’s common knowledge, sure, but since when has logic ever had an effect on emotion? Particularly nowadays when feelings are put above all else in society from preschool onward. To me, though, it’s an interesting phenomenon since it’s not made entirely obvious from the beginnings of mankind. I’ll concede that the idea of a Chieftain, King, and (particularly) Pharaoh is a very pronounced form of this, especially the “good” side of the picture, but then I think about the religions.

Monotheistic systems most definitely form out of the absolute good and evil thought process, but the various forms of paganism are far more ambiguous with these concepts. Read Euripides’ Hippolytus, for example, and Aphrodite (and, according to my Tragedy teacher, Artemis) comes off as completely full of it. Zeus, also, had many, many affairs. Now, I may not be interpreting the Greek culture completely correctly, but I believe that cheating on your spouse has usually been looked down upon throughout history. What I’m saying is that the gods all had flaws, and were portrayed as very nearly human rather than be shown as absolute perfection.

Well, I suppose I’m sort of forgetting the fact that gods in those days were created as an embodiment of certain aspects of humanity, all of which inherently have their flaws (lest they cese to exist). Aphrodite and Ares represented the extreme of togetherness (everything grokking, as it were) and absolute destruction, respectively. The two had to be together to create the state of balance that is the universe, since it would not exist as it does if completely melded to itself, nor would it work in a state of complete separation from itself. Any one god could not be the sole being, since they represented a feature of the human mind or culture.

However, to bring this train back around, I suppose they were still all gods. As such, and since they were all working together and maintaining the perfect universal balance, perhaps they were collectively flawless. The thing is, humans prefer to apply this thought to individuals. We like “The One”. We like to have a symbol of all that is good to which we can look in a time of crisis or thank in a time of fortune; something to remind us that there is good when things look bad (huh. Humans are pretty depressed beings. Maybe it’s just me).

…and once again, I find myself at a point where there’s not much left to say. It’s not something I propose we fix, since, frankly, it really can’t be “fixed” since it’s not broken, plus it does have its occasional positive uses… somewhere. Neither do I think we need more of it, as I’m sure I’ve made rather clear here. All these things are simply precesses that I believe people should be aware of and perhaps realize when/if they do it. Something along those lines (going to class too, so… yeah).

UPDATE: Ah, I think I remember the point I was originally going to make. It was the difference between good and perfect. There are good–even great–men in the world. Many people are well-deserving of admiration, but one should not give god-like (perhaps not the exact right word after the previous statements) status to someone just because they are interesting, intelligent, admirable, well-spoken, or hold any generally good characteristic. Ben Franklin, of example, was absolutely necessary for the success of the American Revolution, but he actually treated his family pretty badly. Everyone, no matter how great they are, is human. The trick is to try to remember that. I’ll admit that I fail utterly sometimes, but the funny thing is, everyone is knocked back to earth once you learn enough about them.

Nope, doesn’t look like it. Best get all my dissent out now before inauguration day, when we’ll all be singing praises to the great Baratigan.

So, uh, yeah… mood is pretty much hopeless and angry, so it’s time for a song that’s kind of heavy, even for Muse. Fitting, though, yes?

UPDATE: Alright, I should try to be a bit less dismal. Firefly theme? Yeah, better.

I won’t be doing any coverage, seeing as I don’t have a TV or anything, my keyboard’s broken (5, 6, -, and ctrl stopped working. Thankfully, they all have alternatives until I have to do a percent sign or point at something above me. Gonna go today and see if the campus store has any good ones), and I just don’t really cover anything.

May link to some news site later on, but it probably won’t be called for a while anyways. Let’s hope for the best!

Intelligent posting will resume eventually. I have two projects due this week, so we’ll have to see about “soon”, but hopefully I’ll have something by Friday.

UPDATE - 8:30pm: Following it at Fox, and getting pretty depressed so far (but the night is young, right? Right!?).

Update - 9ish?: Huh. The lightbulb(s? WTF?) in my room just went out. That’s not a good sign, is it? Update - like, 3 minutes later: it just came back on… the suite-mates figure it’s a ghost; I wholeheartedly agree. Maybe it’s a good sign, though. Let’s hope.

Update - 9:30ish: Yeah, the Fox thing seems broken; switching to WRAL and IMAO; gonna just watch something on Hulu to forget about it for a bit, so see ya when it’s over (which, I think, people are saying it is already?).

Overall Impression: Pretty freakin’ awesome, actually.

So last night, after a busy day of saying goodbye to The Sister and B.I.L. (I think I mentioned once that they’re moving to Texas. Well, that was them leaving.) and some car maintenance, Independence Day came on TV. I decided to watch it since, believe it or not, I’d never seen it before (so sue me, I was 7 when it came out). The primary thing I noticed was the cast.

Because, dude, who wasn’t in there? I knew Will Smith was there, but President Roslin, The Hero of Canton, Copperhead, and that Jurassic Park guy? Heck, even that lady named Margaret Colin was apparently thrown in (which is more of a personal coincidence than anything anyone should really get). This must’ve made at least half of those people’s careers, seriously.

That one teenager who kept talking like Napolean Dynamite did bother me, but I’ll get over it. It was about the only bad acting in the whole thing.

So, let’s get to the movie itself. Despite the fact that my immediate recognition of every actor in there was slightly distracting, I’m pretty sure I got enough of a grasp on the whole thing. And yeah, it was really well-done. The story, even with Aliens attacking the earth, was incredibly realistically done. They didn’t just throw out all reason because it’s an obviously fictional story (“Dude, it’s about aliens.”); instead, that basic premise is the only disbelief that need be suspended. All human reactions–and heck, even the reason for the aliens being there to begin with–were completely believable. The intense parts that you would really hope would appeal to some emotion within the audience did–small ones (lighting the cigars) and large ones (cities being annihilated) alike. The ending can be easily categorized as happy, but still realistically so (see any work by Joss Whedon for more examples of this).

I probably do still need to see it uncensored, but it didn’t seem to really be missing anything. A bunch of people still died, all the aliens still got blown to smithereens, and Will Smith still got his crazy-rant moment. All-in-all, it was pretty darn great.