Geek-tastic Crushes

To My Youngers,

I kind of adore geeks. Nerds. Whatever.

I don't necessarily mean the kind that wear glasses and read comic books (though those two things do also happen to be characteristics of some of the geeks I enjoy...), I don't necessarily mean the kind that are super smart (though again it doesn't hurt...), but I do mean, definitely necessarily, the kind who get very excited about things.

Not all things. They don't have to, y'know, love everything in existence to an untold and all consuming level (in fact that would be a little disturbing and more than a little annoying). But they do have to really love the things they love. And why does that make someone a geek? Well I guess strictly speaking it doesn't, except for when the things that they love are geeky. Then obviously that makes them a geek... seems pretty self evident. Actually scratch that. I would argue that being a geek is really actually a product of loving something so completely, so all-consumingly that your excitedness is absolutely baffling to most people around you... Back to that in a minute.

Aaaaaaaaaaaanyways. I am reminded of my fixation with geeks (re-reminded?) due to many recent events, only some of which I am about to mention, but the closest one being once again staying up till the wee hours watching old vlogbrothers videos.... specifically the John ones. Because I kind of totally love John Green. In fact I'm not really sure how everyone doesn't love John Green... maybe they've never heard of him? That would be a good reason. Pretty much the only good reason I can think of... ;o) He writes things that just make everything in the world seem kind of beautifully awesome. He gets upset about things that should be gotten upset about and happy about things that are silly or wonderful or weird enough to be the best things to be happy about, and as F Scott Fizgerrald says in the Great Gatsby, he has "an extraordinary gift for hope." An excitedness about life, or at least lots of things in life, that comes through in pretty much everything he says, and perhaps even more so how he says it. Watching him talk about stuff (really just anything, any stuff at all) makes me feel excited about all  of the things I get excited about. Excited about making things and creating and springboarding things or ideas or drawings or just happiness, out into the world just because I can. Just because I'm alive and I can. And why not? What better reason is there to share things that make you happy? Because you can. Best reason of all.

So this brings me back to geekdom. Sometimes I find it difficult to reconcile the common geek-thing of loving things that really don't "matter"(like movies or comic books or music...) with feeling like life really ought to matter. Because surely it wouldn't exist without mattering of some kind...? Surely mattering is the reason for the existence of life. Of everything... Mattering in some way. In some way. In some way. right? So why not in that way?

Why not in the loving of something so completely that it makes you happy just experiencing it? In being filled with joy at watching The Decemberists perform The Mariner's Revenge Song, or excitedly looking forward to the new Batman comic, or the remake of Evil Dead... In discussing Catcher in the Rye or Lord OTR (Yes Lord OTR, not LOTR or Lord of the Rings- long story, but rest assured its a geeky one...), in only being able to talk in excited-high-voice when trying to explain why you love a painting or a line from Sorkin or something David Tennant said on the radio... surely loving is reason enough? Is 'mattering' enough?

They say 'All you need is love.' and I think that its true, but I think we don't usually fully understand what exactly that means. All you need is love, love is all you need, but not just that romantic-partnership-sex-n-marriage kind of thing. The love of friends, of pets, of favourite books and pickles and banjo playing. Of the scientific method, the big bang, the large hadron collider... The love of silly things and sunny days, comic books, and great novels, and bike rides.

And geeks.

Love is all you need, so love what you love as fully as you can and don't worry about the rest. It'll sort itself out.

-E

And On The Big Screen

To My Youngers,

So we've talked a lot about storytelling this week. Storytelling through books, in life, through art, and arguably in music (though it seems not so much through lyrics as through the experience of a song or band as a whole...) but surprisingly not really at all about storytelling through film. Maybe that's because it seems a bit obvious (what with characters and plots and narrative being some of the key elements necessary to film-making) but there is a whole other dimension to movies that tends to goes overlooked in today's age of downloading, streaming, and netflix...ing- the movie-going experience.

As lame as this sounds, one of my favourites was seeing Snakes On A Plane on opening night. It was like being at the first participatory screening of Rocky Horror, the audience spontaneously got actively involved in the showing: shouting out lines in time with the actors (they were so predictable that we could guess at what was going to be said and be right every time); cheering or booing key characters; and even counting down to with the clock and yelling 'Snakes on a plaaaaaaaaaaaaaaane!' when the carton of snakes burst open... It was awesome. I don't, however, recommend watching it at home. Its just not that great. Its not! The plot is disruptively simple, the characters are one dimensional and the snakes are just, well, just snakes. I know many people who have seen it and asked me 'How on earth did you like that movie?' and I just tell them that it wasn't really about the movie by itself, it was the whole thing all together.

If you're someone who only watches movies on your computer, at home, pretty much by yourself, I'm tellin' you, you are missing out. Few things can compare to the experience of seeing a film on the big screen in a room full of people who are really into it. Its like a concert, only with plot, characters, and no cell phones.

One of the many things I love about my city is the abundance of alternative choices for movie viewing. I mean the silerplexmcmegatheatres have their place I suppose, but they just don't give you that same sense of community that you get at a local venue. We've got a great place that shows independent movies, a fantastic old repertory theatre, and our own cheapie Rainbow cinema (where you can still see Tuesday toonie movies for an actual toonie!), not to mention an real live actual drive-in but twenty minutes down river. I have yet to make it out to the drive-in, but the past two weeks have been absolutely chock-a-block with trips to see old movies on the big screen.

Last night I saw JAWS in a theatre full of people, flanked by two friends who had never seen it before and a small dinosaur we found on the street (we named him Wash, he sat on the seat-back). It was an original print, pieced together from three separate copies of the film, chocked full of scratches, warbles, shifts in colour, and cigarette burns. And it was amazing.

I have seen Jaws before. I remember really liking it (I mean really liking it- it is one of those gems that remain inexplicably un-spoiled despite feeling like you know the movie before ever having seen it). I saw it up at the cottage with my sisters and my neighbors. We rented it from the marina. We didn't go swimming for days. It was really good, really effective, really great story telling, music, atmosphere... it was fantastic. But nowhere near as fantastic as sharing that experience with 150 other people. Hearing a collective gasp at the discovery of the severed arm, feeling everyone around you tense up when the dog is missing, the spontaneous applause that erupted when the shark explodes! Getting caught up in the moment, getting swept up in the crowd reaction. Mob mentality at its finest.

Jaws has got it all- suggestive framing, fantastic pausing, lingering camera shots, and the music- oh the music! But the effectiveness of each and every one of these things is exponentially increased by the presence of a crowd, a big screen, and the smell of popcorn. 

If you haven't seen a movie on the big screen in a while, do yourself a favour and just go. Tonight! This afternoon! Now! Pick something horrible (best at the drive-in!), something scary (midnight showing!), or something classic (from Hitchcock to Evil Dead, even if you've seen it before, I promise you it'll be even better in theatres!).  Find a locally owned independent cinema, get yourself some popcorn, slouch down in the seat, and enjoy spending the next two hours bonding with a roomful of strangers over a fishing boat being eaten by a shark.

-E

Carrying Yourself Inside Out

To My Youngers,

I am excitable. I'm an excitable person. Maybe not excitable like what that word actually means, but excitable in that I get excited about things. And when I get excited I get, well, quite excited. I use a lot of exclamation marks! I talk more loudly! My voice goes up in pitch (like a seventeen year old boy)!

It took me a while to see it, but for a few years there I was stifling that excitement. It leaked out for sure (how could it not?) but mostly when talking to students about their art (the times I get so excited I couldn't contain it if my life depended on it. Well, maybe only if my life depended on it...). In most other ways it just seemed to get buried beneath a bunch of worries and stress and grown-up stupidness. Then I made some changes. And with those changes came a resurgence of the excitement. Music and Movies and TV started to regain their magical powers, books became engrossing again. The sun shined a little brighter, the cloudy days seemed more purposeful. I rediscovered a laugh I had forgotten I had.

And why hide that? It doesn't mean I don't take things seriously, it doesn't mean that I see the world as a permanently happy place (once again being able to appreciate melancholia without getting sad might be my favourite thing about being excitable again!), it just means I'm not apologizing for being me. And thats a pretty good place to be.

After all, your insides are who you are, why do anything other than wear them proudly?

-E

We are Stars and you are stars.

To my elders,

I have been known to tell upset and mid-existential crises-d friends to do stupid and silly and inconsequential things that make them happy, every day. Like watching cheesy sitcoms or vlogs or whatever. But I don't actually believe that is true. I mean, I do, its a great way to put a smile on your face. But I also became keenly aware over the past 2-3 years that having fun or having "a laugh" as the Brits say, is not the same thing as being happy. And that often, being happy has very little to do with having fun. Having fun distracts you from boredom. Having fun relieves stress. Having fun is enjoyable. But it has very little substance. And can be a little vapid. Being happy is much more connected to being satisfied.

The bigger question then, is how to become satisfied, or stay satisfied, or something like that. Well, for me, that requires a lot of hard work and a lot of things that suck, because as much as I complain about them (and trust me, I like complaining), I complain because I care. I am that mom who nags out of love. Not that I'm a mom. But anyway. If it didn't matter, it wouldn't be worth more than a rant and a rolling of the eyes. But things that matter, that really matter, are completely worth it anyway. But you have to know what's important to you. But maybe that's just my inner workaholic talking.

The idea that some thing just matter is something that stuck with me because of Stars. The band. Not the ones in the sky. The song was Barricade. The year: 2007. The album: In Our Bedroom After the War. The song is sad and a little haunting (lyrically, not musically, though a bit at the end there) and a little... violent. Which I do not advocate. But its beautiful and meaningful and I had never paid much attention to the word "matter" before then.

Lyrics below.

-K

Barricade by Stars

Trapped on the terraces, I looked at you and knew
You were the only thing that mattered
There was no one for me but you
In Harmony Street we beat a man
Just for standing there
I held my breath as I watched you swing
Then run your fingers through your hair

Oh, how could anyone not love the terrible things you do?
Oh, how could anyone not want to try and help you?

In Bermondsey in Burberry, you held me at the barricade, the pigs arrived with tear gas
And I wept at the mistakes we made
We stalked the streets like animals
And danced as windows shattered
For our island, for the thrill of it, for everything that mattered

Oh, how could anyone not want to rip it all apart?
Oh, how could anyone not love your cold, black heart?

I found you on a Saturday, and that was where I lost you
You had finally walk away because of what it cost you, years later when I saw your face
In line to catch the morning train, you looked like you'd been softened
Like you never really loved the pain

Oh, how could anyone not finally diminish?
The thrill of blood comes instantly
There's only darkness at the finish

Meet me at the barricade, I'll be at the barricade
Meet me at the barricade, the love died, but the hate can't fade
I'll be at the barricade, the love died, but the hate won't fade...