Good lord, that last post was completely wrong. It just shows how primitive my worldview has become. It's more likely just a projection of my own mental state in the guise of sophomoric philosophilosizing.
If one must consider people's motivations for doing what they do, they're no doubt countless. While being simplistic, where is "Because I enjoy it" or "Because the sum benefits of it outweigh the inconveniences and annoyances and even the tragedies" in my thinking?
That said, it also re-affirms the feeling of dissipation of the relevance of my existence. These are just idiotic thoughts I have for most part now.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Looks like after 10 years, this year is the year I've posted the least. Kinda makes sense. Not sure what else there is to say. But it's not like there's nothing left to say. I'm still a thinking, breathing, metabolizing entity. I'm not dead yet. On some levels at least.
At the same time I feel my existence, or the relevance of my existence dissipating. Both. There's no point in saying anything. And there is no point in saying anything. But as long as I'm still here, might as well say whatever there is left, right?
I still go about my days. And they're not bereft of meaning worth communicating, although I might doubt the value of what I might communicate.
A ten year old blog, well, well, well.
Obviously there are likely things I posted through the years that I'd be embarrassed about now or might need to qualify or even consider outright wrong. Or not. I can't think of anything offhand that I think I was completely wrong about. Whatever.
Wrap things up? I don't know.
Maybe for starters, for the past two years at least, I've been doing basically the same thing every day. And every day I go out, I look at the people and I wonder "why are they doing what they are doing?", I try to imagine what their motivation is.
Oftentimes I imagine the answer is "because it's their programming". What they do is what they're programmed to do, and they're just running the program. Another possibly more condescending answer is "they don't know why and they don't ask, they don't know what else there is". Another answer is "*belch* why not?".
I'm not satisfied with any of these answers, except maybe the last. I've said this before, but I don't know why people do what they do, nor why I should adopt their motivation to do something, anything.
At the same time I feel my existence, or the relevance of my existence dissipating. Both. There's no point in saying anything. And there is no point in saying anything. But as long as I'm still here, might as well say whatever there is left, right?
I still go about my days. And they're not bereft of meaning worth communicating, although I might doubt the value of what I might communicate.
A ten year old blog, well, well, well.
Obviously there are likely things I posted through the years that I'd be embarrassed about now or might need to qualify or even consider outright wrong. Or not. I can't think of anything offhand that I think I was completely wrong about. Whatever.
Wrap things up? I don't know.
Maybe for starters, for the past two years at least, I've been doing basically the same thing every day. And every day I go out, I look at the people and I wonder "why are they doing what they are doing?", I try to imagine what their motivation is.
Oftentimes I imagine the answer is "because it's their programming". What they do is what they're programmed to do, and they're just running the program. Another possibly more condescending answer is "they don't know why and they don't ask, they don't know what else there is". Another answer is "*belch* why not?".
I'm not satisfied with any of these answers, except maybe the last. I've said this before, but I don't know why people do what they do, nor why I should adopt their motivation to do something, anything.
Friday, December 07, 2012
Life of Pi (Taiwan, 2012)
I have to say it straight out. Having just read the book recently and now seeing the film, the film is better than the book. I can't really fault the book, though, because the nature of the novel lends itself perfectly for a visual experience through film.
Many things described in the book require more imagination than I have to visualize them just reading the book. In the film, I don't have to put that effort into it and I can realize what the author was trying to describe.
It's hardly an action movie, but there is visceral motion in the story that Ang Lee makes the audience feel that couldn't be conveyed in just words in a novel, I thought. And Ang Lee's digital teams' visuals are absolutely stunning.
Finally, as I mentioned, in the book a character mentions it's a story that will "make you believe in God", and I didn't think the book delivered on that. The movie does. Perhaps not in a literal sense, but in a conceptual sense.
There's that big, albeit subtle, turn-around scene when it's like, "oh, that's what he means. Yea". I'm scientifically oriented at heart, and a running theme of this blog is to keep that orientation in check. Science is amazing in how it describes reality, but it is only amazing because it limits itself so strictly.
It doesn't investigate what it can't find evidence for. Scientific reality I accept. But I also accept a reality that science can't touch. And the question is, do you prefer a reality that is only scientifically describable, or a reality that has elements that science can't describe?
It is an intense film. I wouldn't preclude reading the book for all the detail that is fleshed out, although a lot of the stuff left out in the film was definitely not necessary in the film. I can't say if my appreciation is greater having read the book, and of course at this point I can't watch the film not having read the book.
I think I'm going to give this film 10 out of 10 tomatoes. 9 at the lowest.
Skyfall (2012, UK)
Oh, good grief, it's a James Bond film. Either you like James Bond films or you don't. They all have flaws or are hard-boiled or whatever.
Daniel Craig continues with the hard, gritty, no-nonsense James Bond that you're not necessarily supposed to like. And the franchise now is part of the 21st century action film genre where if you deliver big bangs for the buck, you've succeeded.
And that's what this film is. A visual amusement park ride of an action movie. It's hardly high cinema, has a lot of flaws, but it's a James Bond film. Nominal fresh 7 out of 10 tomatoes. It's no where near a total fail, but leaves a little to be desired.
Tuesday, December 04, 2012
I've read a bunch of rock autobiographies lately. I mentioned Ozzy's about a year ago. These autobiographies are like reading history for me; people who have contributed to the music background of my life and hearing their perspective in kind of their own voice. Aside from Ozzy, I've read Keith Richards' "Life", Sting's "Broken Music" and I'm currently reading Steven Tyler's "Does the Noise in My Head Bother You?".
Keith's book renewed interest in the Rolling Stones for me. I was fine with the Rolling Stones until the Tattoo You album, after which I think I felt the Stones lost their relevance and I thereafter didn't pay attention to them even when critics were reporting a "return to form" after the 80s ended. Growing up, I liked all the Stones repertoire played on radio and I bought a bunch of LPs from the 70s and wasn't blown away. A lot of filler on the albums, I thought. Looking back I probably just bought the wrong albums.
If you buy a band's great albums, you can then accept their lesser output. But if you buy their so-so albums first, you don't get the momentum to discover their best albums. So I bought Goats Head Soup, It's Only Rock and Roll, Some Girls, Love You Live and of course Tattoo you and Emotional Rescue which were released when I was old enough to be buying albums. I didn't buy Exiles on Main Street, Beggar's Banquet, Let It Bleed or Sticky Fingers. Anyone familiar with the Rolling Stones catalog can probably look at that list and see I missed the great, classic albums and understand why I failed to appreciate them through the rot of their 80s output, a period characterized by public feuding between Mick and Keith. Privately, they rarely even recorded in the studio at the same time, if ever.
It's no literary masterpiece. Actually, it's a total mess with the timeline scattered and many stories and anecdotes placed haphazardly out of context, but that's not the point. What makes it a great read is that it's Keith Fucking Richards, and if real rock and roll or the Rolling Stones are anywhere in your background, it's kind of a must-read. The thing is over 600 pages and if I end up back in the States, I'll probably buy it and read it again with their musical catalog cued up for when relevant songs and albums come up.
I didn't expect much from Sting's autobiography and I wasn't disappointed. The Police are legendary, but I was never impressed by Sting's personality or arrogance. I gave it to him that he was a brilliant songwriter, one of the great pioneer rock bassists who deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Paul McCartney, and I credited him to be of above average intelligence.
I expected the book to be pretentious and full of himself. It was written after he was only 50 years old and no where near the end of his career nor when he was old enough to have the reflection or levity to be some definitive life statement. But the most surprising aspect of his book was how poorly written it was and the shocking use of high school-grade metaphor.
I think he even (pretentiously) admits that he was trying to be a writer, drawing on his own life as the source material for a literary work. And it's for most part, really, really boring. I figured out too late that most of the first half of the book should be mercilessly skimmed and ignored. Inconsequential anecdotes from some random person's early life (not unlike this blog, but I'm neither famous nor getting paid for this pure vanity project).
The only interesting part of the book for me is when he talks about the formation and early days of the Police and that back story, and that takes up a good part of the book, and then the story suddenly ends with the U.S. tour of Outlandos d'Amour, their first album. The bulk of the Police years are not mentioned, which indicates he had nothing to add to what had already been plumbed through the media through the years.
That book is the worst of the bunch for me, but I'm not a Sting fan. Just as he once emphasized, after an interviewer referred to "Police songs", that they weren't Police songs but his songs played by the Police, I'm a Police fan, not a Sting fan.
The only thing that made an impression on me was the idea that he is not a happy person. Fame and fortune hasn't brought him happiness and he admits that at the center of his being is an unhappy person that was probably formed in his early life. It doesn't change just by superficial success. If the inconsequential anecdotes of his early life are of any worth, I'd glean that his lifelong unhappiness was caused, perhaps innocently, by his parents, as well as modern, post-war life and economies. As a person, I also appreciate that certain depth to him and can hardly fault him that.
Steven Tyler's autobiography is easily the best and most entertaining of the bunch. Unlike Keith's book, it sounds like Tyler's voice, whereas if you hear Keith talk, the book sounds like nothing what would come out of his mouth. He doesn't talk as coherently as the voice in the book, and the book isn't all that coherent.
Keith's book renewed interest in the Rolling Stones for me. I was fine with the Rolling Stones until the Tattoo You album, after which I think I felt the Stones lost their relevance and I thereafter didn't pay attention to them even when critics were reporting a "return to form" after the 80s ended. Growing up, I liked all the Stones repertoire played on radio and I bought a bunch of LPs from the 70s and wasn't blown away. A lot of filler on the albums, I thought. Looking back I probably just bought the wrong albums.
If you buy a band's great albums, you can then accept their lesser output. But if you buy their so-so albums first, you don't get the momentum to discover their best albums. So I bought Goats Head Soup, It's Only Rock and Roll, Some Girls, Love You Live and of course Tattoo you and Emotional Rescue which were released when I was old enough to be buying albums. I didn't buy Exiles on Main Street, Beggar's Banquet, Let It Bleed or Sticky Fingers. Anyone familiar with the Rolling Stones catalog can probably look at that list and see I missed the great, classic albums and understand why I failed to appreciate them through the rot of their 80s output, a period characterized by public feuding between Mick and Keith. Privately, they rarely even recorded in the studio at the same time, if ever.
It's no literary masterpiece. Actually, it's a total mess with the timeline scattered and many stories and anecdotes placed haphazardly out of context, but that's not the point. What makes it a great read is that it's Keith Fucking Richards, and if real rock and roll or the Rolling Stones are anywhere in your background, it's kind of a must-read. The thing is over 600 pages and if I end up back in the States, I'll probably buy it and read it again with their musical catalog cued up for when relevant songs and albums come up.
I didn't expect much from Sting's autobiography and I wasn't disappointed. The Police are legendary, but I was never impressed by Sting's personality or arrogance. I gave it to him that he was a brilliant songwriter, one of the great pioneer rock bassists who deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Paul McCartney, and I credited him to be of above average intelligence.
I expected the book to be pretentious and full of himself. It was written after he was only 50 years old and no where near the end of his career nor when he was old enough to have the reflection or levity to be some definitive life statement. But the most surprising aspect of his book was how poorly written it was and the shocking use of high school-grade metaphor.
I think he even (pretentiously) admits that he was trying to be a writer, drawing on his own life as the source material for a literary work. And it's for most part, really, really boring. I figured out too late that most of the first half of the book should be mercilessly skimmed and ignored. Inconsequential anecdotes from some random person's early life (not unlike this blog, but I'm neither famous nor getting paid for this pure vanity project).
The only interesting part of the book for me is when he talks about the formation and early days of the Police and that back story, and that takes up a good part of the book, and then the story suddenly ends with the U.S. tour of Outlandos d'Amour, their first album. The bulk of the Police years are not mentioned, which indicates he had nothing to add to what had already been plumbed through the media through the years.
That book is the worst of the bunch for me, but I'm not a Sting fan. Just as he once emphasized, after an interviewer referred to "Police songs", that they weren't Police songs but his songs played by the Police, I'm a Police fan, not a Sting fan.
The only thing that made an impression on me was the idea that he is not a happy person. Fame and fortune hasn't brought him happiness and he admits that at the center of his being is an unhappy person that was probably formed in his early life. It doesn't change just by superficial success. If the inconsequential anecdotes of his early life are of any worth, I'd glean that his lifelong unhappiness was caused, perhaps innocently, by his parents, as well as modern, post-war life and economies. As a person, I also appreciate that certain depth to him and can hardly fault him that.
Steven Tyler's autobiography is easily the best and most entertaining of the bunch. Unlike Keith's book, it sounds like Tyler's voice, whereas if you hear Keith talk, the book sounds like nothing what would come out of his mouth. He doesn't talk as coherently as the voice in the book, and the book isn't all that coherent.
But befitting the primary driving creative force of Aerosmith, Tyler is also a great writer and communicator of his ideas. He's funny and candid, doesn't hide his pubescent boy sense of humor that only a rock star is allowed to carry on the rest of his life, and tells it like it was, the good, the bad and the horny.
I'm not a huge Aerosmith fan. I liked their hits, thought a lot of their albums were filler, and like the Stones I ignored them after the 80s rot settled in with guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford leaving the band for a few years. Unlike the Stones, I did notice when they came back with distinctive and worthy hits, but like the Stones I also considered them irrelevant in my youthful perspective, compared to new music that was coming out (alt rock which led to 90s rock and indie rock).
I was moved by Richards's book and I am being moved by Tyler's. Although Richards' perhaps more so because of the span of the legend of the Rolling Stones. There's a joie de vivre in a rampant, decadent rock and roll life, one that I may have dreamed about as a teenager; one that in retrospect I would never have wanted nor been able to handle. But I recognized that spark of what drives you when that spark is music. I guess I didn't want it enough. I didn't work hard enough at it. And though music remains the last love of my life now, inexplicably in superficial, corporate manufactured K-pop, I'm glad I have the bedrock of appreciation of something real.
Steven Tyler, on the other hand, I'm appreciating him as a human being. Someone down-to-earth, passionate and honest with himself, even regarding all his faults in his rock and roll past and lifestyle. I don't know how to explain it. He is a spiritual person and is in contact with the unseen life energy that gives our world meaning. Not enlightened in the sense of transcending it in recognition of a completely different "reality", he is still very much in contact with the perceptual world, but he sees the channel, the bridge.
He comes across to me as an exceptional human being.
I'm not a huge Aerosmith fan. I liked their hits, thought a lot of their albums were filler, and like the Stones I ignored them after the 80s rot settled in with guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford leaving the band for a few years. Unlike the Stones, I did notice when they came back with distinctive and worthy hits, but like the Stones I also considered them irrelevant in my youthful perspective, compared to new music that was coming out (alt rock which led to 90s rock and indie rock).
I was moved by Richards's book and I am being moved by Tyler's. Although Richards' perhaps more so because of the span of the legend of the Rolling Stones. There's a joie de vivre in a rampant, decadent rock and roll life, one that I may have dreamed about as a teenager; one that in retrospect I would never have wanted nor been able to handle. But I recognized that spark of what drives you when that spark is music. I guess I didn't want it enough. I didn't work hard enough at it. And though music remains the last love of my life now, inexplicably in superficial, corporate manufactured K-pop, I'm glad I have the bedrock of appreciation of something real.
Steven Tyler, on the other hand, I'm appreciating him as a human being. Someone down-to-earth, passionate and honest with himself, even regarding all his faults in his rock and roll past and lifestyle. I don't know how to explain it. He is a spiritual person and is in contact with the unseen life energy that gives our world meaning. Not enlightened in the sense of transcending it in recognition of a completely different "reality", he is still very much in contact with the perceptual world, but he sees the channel, the bridge.
He comes across to me as an exceptional human being.
Monday, November 19, 2012
I finished reading "The Life of Pi". I started reading it when I heard Ang Lee's (Taiwan) film adaptation of the book was going to be released soon; this week now. As opposed to reading books after seeing films, which is what I have been doing, I thought this was a good opportunity to read the book before seeing the film, which I haven't done in a long time.
I have a lot of faith in Ang Lee. There's not much he can do that would disappoint me. He's a bold filmmaker who isn't afraid of challenges. Wang Kar-Wai (Hong Kong) is another of my favorite filmmakers, but I wouldn't argue against anyone who accused him of staying within a certain artistic comfort zone. He does his thing and he does it amazingly well. Ang Lee hasn't stayed in any comfort zone and I like that about him.
"The Life of Pi" is a fictional work by a Canadian writer about an Indian teenager who finds himself stranded in the open sea in a lifeboat with a Bengal tiger. Within the story itself, I was struck by the main character's drive to survive and how completely opposite that is to my own mindset.
That dedication and will to overcome life-threatening challenges and survive in life is totally foreign to me. And is totally fine and refreshing but doesn't change an alternative perspective that would be thrilled and excited about being faced with a situation of abandon and futility.
Survive? Why? Just accept. I jest. Survival in itself has its own rush as a moment of living, although in the big picture of human lifetimes, survival still does not avert the inevitable.
But the story isn't a spiritual or existential metaphor; the being stranded out in the ocean in a life-threatening situation and coming to terms with needing that life-threatening situation to survive, no, no, no.
It's a good read, but shouldn't be mistaken as a great lesson about life. The book itself states plainly what it is commenting on, something a little more mundane and to be honest it was a little bit of let-down. As if I had been bamboozled.
It's certainly not a story that will "make you believe in god", as purported by one character. The religious background laid down has nothing to do with the main events of the story. I would go so far as to obliquely even say the main events of the story are . . . literary.
I have a lot of faith in Ang Lee. There's not much he can do that would disappoint me. He's a bold filmmaker who isn't afraid of challenges. Wang Kar-Wai (Hong Kong) is another of my favorite filmmakers, but I wouldn't argue against anyone who accused him of staying within a certain artistic comfort zone. He does his thing and he does it amazingly well. Ang Lee hasn't stayed in any comfort zone and I like that about him.
"The Life of Pi" is a fictional work by a Canadian writer about an Indian teenager who finds himself stranded in the open sea in a lifeboat with a Bengal tiger. Within the story itself, I was struck by the main character's drive to survive and how completely opposite that is to my own mindset.
That dedication and will to overcome life-threatening challenges and survive in life is totally foreign to me. And is totally fine and refreshing but doesn't change an alternative perspective that would be thrilled and excited about being faced with a situation of abandon and futility.
Survive? Why? Just accept. I jest. Survival in itself has its own rush as a moment of living, although in the big picture of human lifetimes, survival still does not avert the inevitable.
But the story isn't a spiritual or existential metaphor; the being stranded out in the ocean in a life-threatening situation and coming to terms with needing that life-threatening situation to survive, no, no, no.
It's a good read, but shouldn't be mistaken as a great lesson about life. The book itself states plainly what it is commenting on, something a little more mundane and to be honest it was a little bit of let-down. As if I had been bamboozled.
It's certainly not a story that will "make you believe in god", as purported by one character. The religious background laid down has nothing to do with the main events of the story. I would go so far as to obliquely even say the main events of the story are . . . literary.
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Wow, November.
I look ahead several months and see February. Or March. Am I really still going to be here in February or March 2013? Slogging on with no direction, purpose or motivation? I'm not positing that as a bad thing, just fact.
It seems inconceivable, but several months ago – could've been May, could've been June – I was looking ahead several months, and seeing November and asking, "am I really still going to be here in November?" Another chilly, rainy winter?
Rilly, I am.
I guess that's what I get for taking things one day at a time, which is what recovering alcoholics and addicts are supposed to do when they're trying to get their lives back on track. Not the most productive game plan if I'm angling for a risky, radical path towards an understanding that only mystics and crazies have historically entertained.
Whenever I pull back and look at the big picture with my lifelong aspiration, I feel I should be more proactive about it. Maybe when I can, I will.
I don't posit having no direction, purpose or motivation as a bad thing for me, because I don't want direction, purpose or motivation at this point. I think it's fair to say I don't want, need or have those things because never in any of my life plans did I expect to still be here at this age.
Anything before in my life that I strove for, was motivated by or desired still assumed that I would've been dead long before getting to my current age. It's no wonder that I'm still here and am pretty content doing absolutely nothing productive or involved.
Still being here is a bit of a bonus maybe to keep cultivating the meditations I've come across, but just because I'm still here doesn't mean I'm gonna get worked up about having no direction, purpose or motivation.
I look ahead several months and see February. Or March. Am I really still going to be here in February or March 2013? Slogging on with no direction, purpose or motivation? I'm not positing that as a bad thing, just fact.
It seems inconceivable, but several months ago – could've been May, could've been June – I was looking ahead several months, and seeing November and asking, "am I really still going to be here in November?" Another chilly, rainy winter?
Rilly, I am.
I guess that's what I get for taking things one day at a time, which is what recovering alcoholics and addicts are supposed to do when they're trying to get their lives back on track. Not the most productive game plan if I'm angling for a risky, radical path towards an understanding that only mystics and crazies have historically entertained.
Whenever I pull back and look at the big picture with my lifelong aspiration, I feel I should be more proactive about it. Maybe when I can, I will.
I don't posit having no direction, purpose or motivation as a bad thing for me, because I don't want direction, purpose or motivation at this point. I think it's fair to say I don't want, need or have those things because never in any of my life plans did I expect to still be here at this age.
Anything before in my life that I strove for, was motivated by or desired still assumed that I would've been dead long before getting to my current age. It's no wonder that I'm still here and am pretty content doing absolutely nothing productive or involved.
Still being here is a bit of a bonus maybe to keep cultivating the meditations I've come across, but just because I'm still here doesn't mean I'm gonna get worked up about having no direction, purpose or motivation.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
You know, it's strange. I saw The Return of the King a few months ago and then started reading the Lord of the Rings books. When I was reading The Return of the King, I couldn't recall any images depicted in the movie in what I was reading.
Now having re-watched the movie, it's pretty much there, with the same dark arts of adaptive screenwriting applied as in the previous films, including the added elements, others greatly diminished, and the one-dimensional, dumbed-down portrayal of characters.
Then I realized why I didn't remember any of the scenes even after seeing the movie at least a few times over the years, all on TV or DVD. While watching this time, at some point my attention started to turn to what I had been doing on the internet, and paying just enough attention to catch what seemed to be the important bits.
I think I did this every time I watched the movie before. With the first two movies, I watched them all the way through. I guess what I'm saying is ultimately, the third movie is . . . boring. And if I had seen it in a theater, I likely would have at some point taken out my phone and started looking at it.
I don't have a phone to look at, but you get the idea. And if I did, I probably really wouldn't do that because it seems to fall under the behaviors that are considered rude. I don't know, maybe it's accepted behavior. I haven't been to the movies in a long time, either.
Again, I don't know how anyone who hasn't read the book had any idea what was going on in the movie, particularly the third movie. Maybe there's the broad outline through which audiences just let themselves be led by the nose, and since they could follow that, they thought they got it and became fans because of the flashy CG visuals and shiny objects. Them bad, them good, fight!, good wins, destroy the ring! destroy evil. Yaaaaaay.
But when I watched it before, I obviously had no idea what was going on and who was who and why were they doing what they were doing, and I started to get bored and paid half attention to the film. Even after reading the book and recognizing who was who and why they were doing what they were doing, which is not necessarily clear in the film, it got boring.
I don't know. I've been saying keep the films and book separate, they're different beasts. The book is legend among its certain audience, the films are historically epic just from the scope of the thing, and I'm not going to retract that, but I just have to note that every time I watched The Return of the King, apparently I got bored.
Now having re-watched the movie, it's pretty much there, with the same dark arts of adaptive screenwriting applied as in the previous films, including the added elements, others greatly diminished, and the one-dimensional, dumbed-down portrayal of characters.
Then I realized why I didn't remember any of the scenes even after seeing the movie at least a few times over the years, all on TV or DVD. While watching this time, at some point my attention started to turn to what I had been doing on the internet, and paying just enough attention to catch what seemed to be the important bits.
I think I did this every time I watched the movie before. With the first two movies, I watched them all the way through. I guess what I'm saying is ultimately, the third movie is . . . boring. And if I had seen it in a theater, I likely would have at some point taken out my phone and started looking at it.
I don't have a phone to look at, but you get the idea. And if I did, I probably really wouldn't do that because it seems to fall under the behaviors that are considered rude. I don't know, maybe it's accepted behavior. I haven't been to the movies in a long time, either.
Again, I don't know how anyone who hasn't read the book had any idea what was going on in the movie, particularly the third movie. Maybe there's the broad outline through which audiences just let themselves be led by the nose, and since they could follow that, they thought they got it and became fans because of the flashy CG visuals and shiny objects. Them bad, them good, fight!, good wins, destroy the ring! destroy evil. Yaaaaaay.
But when I watched it before, I obviously had no idea what was going on and who was who and why were they doing what they were doing, and I started to get bored and paid half attention to the film. Even after reading the book and recognizing who was who and why they were doing what they were doing, which is not necessarily clear in the film, it got boring.
I don't know. I've been saying keep the films and book separate, they're different beasts. The book is legend among its certain audience, the films are historically epic just from the scope of the thing, and I'm not going to retract that, but I just have to note that every time I watched The Return of the King, apparently I got bored.
Thursday, October 04, 2012
Oh my, did I really say that The Two Towers movie was faithful to the book?! Well, the reason why I said that was while reading the book, I could visualize all the scenes as presented in the movie. But the movie is veeeeery different from the book except the main plot points and general direction.
What I don't understand is why there is such a huge following for the movies. Did everyone read the book? If they didn't read the book and are just fans of the movie, how the hell did they understand who everyone was and their roles and relationships? You only get that from the book.
But if they read the book, how are they such huge fans of the movies when the movies take such liberties in changing the themes and feel of the book which give the book its charm. Once you read the book, you watch the movies and notice what's left out (but at least you know who everyone is).
I opined that The Two Towers was the worst of the trilogy, not to imply it was bad, but I stand by that. The screenplay is the weakest, and all the people and the parties are muddled unless you read the book. And if you read the book, again it's the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting that has them drop a single line to identify something that was fully explained in the book and have an audience member remember it.
What's inexplicable to me is that many of the changes and added scenes weren't necessary or were specious and came at the cost of keeping scenes from the book that would have better served the story. Faramir is kind of a jerk to the Hobbits in the movie, but he's a lionheart from the start in the book. He's more worthy than Boromir in the book, while he's exactly the same as him in the movie.
But again I remind myself they are different beasts. I'm purposely making comparisons because that's what I set out to do when I decided to read the book.
I think The Return of the King will be airing again next week. Truth to tell, when I was reading the book, I remembered very little from the movie aside from maybe the spider and the Mt. Doom scene. So I think a lot was changed in that movie, too.
What I don't understand is why there is such a huge following for the movies. Did everyone read the book? If they didn't read the book and are just fans of the movie, how the hell did they understand who everyone was and their roles and relationships? You only get that from the book.
But if they read the book, how are they such huge fans of the movies when the movies take such liberties in changing the themes and feel of the book which give the book its charm. Once you read the book, you watch the movies and notice what's left out (but at least you know who everyone is).
I opined that The Two Towers was the worst of the trilogy, not to imply it was bad, but I stand by that. The screenplay is the weakest, and all the people and the parties are muddled unless you read the book. And if you read the book, again it's the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting that has them drop a single line to identify something that was fully explained in the book and have an audience member remember it.
What's inexplicable to me is that many of the changes and added scenes weren't necessary or were specious and came at the cost of keeping scenes from the book that would have better served the story. Faramir is kind of a jerk to the Hobbits in the movie, but he's a lionheart from the start in the book. He's more worthy than Boromir in the book, while he's exactly the same as him in the movie.
But again I remind myself they are different beasts. I'm purposely making comparisons because that's what I set out to do when I decided to read the book.
I think The Return of the King will be airing again next week. Truth to tell, when I was reading the book, I remembered very little from the movie aside from maybe the spider and the Mt. Doom scene. So I think a lot was changed in that movie, too.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Another summer gone. Still alive. I noticed this year how quickly summer ended in Taiwan. I don't know if I noticed it before.
Summer for me in Taipei is when the thermometers in my apartment read 88-89 degrees, regardless of what it is outside. Air conditioning gets used, usually timed for an hour at a time, and otherwise the fan is on all the time, and is on all night. Showers are cold.
Summer ended when thermometers started reading 83 degrees. No more air conditioning, but still electric fan action, but not all the time. Timer turns it off after I turn off the lights to go to sleep. Showers are still basically cold, but with some hot water to take off the edge.
A typhoon is just brushing the eastern edge of Taiwan, not expected to hit, but has brought clouds, rain and a stiff wind, adding to the feel that summer's over. It's a super-typhoon. A few days ago when it was in the Philippines, the winds were blowing precipitation down on mostly sunny days in Taipei.
It perplexes me that I'm still alive, striving along with no reason to.
I read the entire Lord of the Rings this summer. I read it because I haven't found any new "meaningful" reads, i.e. relevant to my existential situation, and I'm just killing time now. I read it because HBO aired all three films over the course of three nights and I wondered how different the films were from the books and I recalled seeing them in the public library.
There are, indeed, significant differences in the first and third parts, but the second part, The Two Towers, is pretty faithful. Oddly, The Two Towers, in my opinion, was the worst of the films. Muddled and scattered, but works fine in written form. Go fig.
Since finishing the book, only the first film, Fellowship of the Ring, has been aired again and I watched it again, and I realized how clever the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting is. Mind you, I think the films are instant classics just because of the scope of the damn thing. And the books are very long-winded with paragraph upon paragraph of descriptions of Middle Earth geography and meals and lore that were kinda lost on me.
But the screenwriters were ingenious in sticking in bits that were described at length in the book as mere tidbits that only a geek who lives and breathes Lord of the Rings or someone who just read the book would notice. It's out of necessity, I know. Otherwise the films would be impossibly long. Large swaths are left out of the films, but when possible, if the screenwriters were able to insert some tiny detail, they did.
I'm waiting for HBO to air The Two Towers and The Return of the King again. The third part was the least familiar when I was reading the book, whereas whenever I hit a portion of the first two parts that was covered in the movies, the visuals from the movie immediately took over. That's how effective the movie visuals were.
I didn't note how long it took to finish reading the book, but it was a pretty long ass time. Just a few hours a day in the library. And, mind you, the book and the films are better considered different entities. The films are sumptuous and grand and epic, but are no replacement for reading the book.
After Lord of the Rings, it also occurred to me to read The DaVinci Code because that also aired on TV, and I thought if scholars on the gnostic gospels are mentioning it, I should check out what this popular novel says about them. I don't know why, but I've been surprised that even many of my college peers have no idea what the gnostic gospels are.
I thought maybe that work of fiction could be a fun introduction to the topic, but . . . no. First of all, the film is a verbatim adaptation of the book. If you saw the film, you don't need to read the book, if you read the book, you don't need to see the film. And simply put, the addressing of the gnostic gospels is not at all scholarly, but appropriate for a thriller.
And that's what I did this summer.
Summer for me in Taipei is when the thermometers in my apartment read 88-89 degrees, regardless of what it is outside. Air conditioning gets used, usually timed for an hour at a time, and otherwise the fan is on all the time, and is on all night. Showers are cold.
Summer ended when thermometers started reading 83 degrees. No more air conditioning, but still electric fan action, but not all the time. Timer turns it off after I turn off the lights to go to sleep. Showers are still basically cold, but with some hot water to take off the edge.
A typhoon is just brushing the eastern edge of Taiwan, not expected to hit, but has brought clouds, rain and a stiff wind, adding to the feel that summer's over. It's a super-typhoon. A few days ago when it was in the Philippines, the winds were blowing precipitation down on mostly sunny days in Taipei.
It perplexes me that I'm still alive, striving along with no reason to.
I read the entire Lord of the Rings this summer. I read it because I haven't found any new "meaningful" reads, i.e. relevant to my existential situation, and I'm just killing time now. I read it because HBO aired all three films over the course of three nights and I wondered how different the films were from the books and I recalled seeing them in the public library.
There are, indeed, significant differences in the first and third parts, but the second part, The Two Towers, is pretty faithful. Oddly, The Two Towers, in my opinion, was the worst of the films. Muddled and scattered, but works fine in written form. Go fig.
Since finishing the book, only the first film, Fellowship of the Ring, has been aired again and I watched it again, and I realized how clever the dark arts of adaptive screenwriting is. Mind you, I think the films are instant classics just because of the scope of the damn thing. And the books are very long-winded with paragraph upon paragraph of descriptions of Middle Earth geography and meals and lore that were kinda lost on me.
But the screenwriters were ingenious in sticking in bits that were described at length in the book as mere tidbits that only a geek who lives and breathes Lord of the Rings or someone who just read the book would notice. It's out of necessity, I know. Otherwise the films would be impossibly long. Large swaths are left out of the films, but when possible, if the screenwriters were able to insert some tiny detail, they did.
I'm waiting for HBO to air The Two Towers and The Return of the King again. The third part was the least familiar when I was reading the book, whereas whenever I hit a portion of the first two parts that was covered in the movies, the visuals from the movie immediately took over. That's how effective the movie visuals were.
I didn't note how long it took to finish reading the book, but it was a pretty long ass time. Just a few hours a day in the library. And, mind you, the book and the films are better considered different entities. The films are sumptuous and grand and epic, but are no replacement for reading the book.
After Lord of the Rings, it also occurred to me to read The DaVinci Code because that also aired on TV, and I thought if scholars on the gnostic gospels are mentioning it, I should check out what this popular novel says about them. I don't know why, but I've been surprised that even many of my college peers have no idea what the gnostic gospels are.
I thought maybe that work of fiction could be a fun introduction to the topic, but . . . no. First of all, the film is a verbatim adaptation of the book. If you saw the film, you don't need to read the book, if you read the book, you don't need to see the film. And simply put, the addressing of the gnostic gospels is not at all scholarly, but appropriate for a thriller.
And that's what I did this summer.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Westward bikeways (Erchong)
Running out of steam on this getting-back-into-cycling-thing-because-now-I-have-a-GPS. I've started shying away from climbs (which was the thrill of cycling when I first started), ergo this quick and completely flat bikeway ride.
And after this ride, I won't ride for nearly three weeks despite numerous perfect days for riding, and by the time I go for another ride, summer will be officially over and it will show in the weather and temperatures. A typhoon will also stymie any attempt to ride through that third week.
Perfect weather days, I plan to ride, but then I just can't bring myself to drag my ass and my bike's ass out of the apartment.
I've noticed that these Garmin maps don't always load properly on the first try and require reloading to appear. The mildly perplexing part of that is that when they don't load properly, the default map is Manhattan, which includes my childhood stomping grounds in New Jersey, including Fort Lee.
It's a map that's immediately recognizable and as my childhood stomping grounds, has a hint of "home". Certainly more home than any map here in Taiwan.
Monday, September 10, 2012
I recently re-bought the Robert Thurman translation of the so-called Tibetan Book of the Dead. There are four translations. The first I think is marred by Western-centric chauvinism, the second by Francesca Fremantle includes an incredible introduction by Chogyam Trungpa, Thurman's is the third and is very scholarly and professor-ly (he writes in an open-minded way, sometimes muddled, that really encourages "getting" the ideas from one's own point of view), and the fourth one is currently the most complete and comprehensive translation of the available cycle of literature.
I think I first picked up a used copy of this translation at some bookstore on 16th St. in San Francisco some 9 or 10 years ago. It was my introduction to Tibetan thought and methodology.
Robert Thurman ordained as a novice monk in the 60s, but before fully ordaining, he returned his robes (not an uncommon occurrence) and returned to the States and became a scholar on Tibet; professor of Tibetan Studies at Columbia University and founder of Tibet House, based in Manhattan. Father to Uma.
It was pretty mind-blowing back then and I marked up that book real good. I gave that copy to my cousin in 2004 or 2005. The last I heard, she hadn't read it and I'm predicting she won't until I die or disappear, presumed gone for good.
It's not quite as mind-blowing this time around as the ideas are pretty standard Dzogchen teachings, which I've repeatedly been exposed to through the years. I've also gotten more acquainted with Robert Thurman's distinct style, and I'm reading that more in the book now. Although there's still a lot to appreciate, there's very little I'm marking this time around.
There is an aspect I've been delving into that makes re-reading it now very timely. I don't always like Robert Thurman's choice of terminology, but there are concepts that I've been exploring that are clearly the same as what he explicates in his book.
The Tibetan methodology on death studies I might describe as personal scientific. It has been referred to as "science of the mind", but I don't think many of the insights can't be objectively verified scientifically. They can, however, be subjectively verified, following the methodology, but even as such, they cannot be dogmatically insisted upon as being some truth. It's an aspect of faith that instructs, "go figure it out yourself".
Another book I've recently read and found illuminating is the Dalai Lama's Advice on Dying and Living a Better Life. Tibetan methodology on death sciences focuses intently on the nature of consciousness and meditation on it.
On the most basic level, it's important to separate gross consciousness, which is the result of our physical senses feeding information to our brain which processes the information to form what we call consciousness, from suggestions that other processes are involved which define our being and are important.
When we die, those physical senses fail and that gross consciousness which is the result of our senses becomes irrelevant. And it might be the other processes, perhaps described as inner winds or subtle winds, that carry our karma through to whatever's next for each individual.
It's suggested that our adherence to gross consciousness is the deepest form of karma there is. It's what keeps us in the cycle of life, death and rebirth because it has become habit to live according to these perceptions which create what we call consciousness and reality.
As Robert Thurman puts it: The "presence-habit" is the deepest level of misknowing conceptualization, which maintains the sense of "being here now" as something or someone finite . . . supporting addictive and objective instincts of self-preservation, and blocking awareness of the primal bliss-wisdom indivisible of the eternal reality of enlightenment.
So what else is there? I don't know if the Dalai Lama used the phrase, but the phrase I got out of his book was "energy body". Thurman mentions a "magic body" which might be the same thing, although that's an example of his terminology that I don't like. There's nothing "magic" or magical about it.
But it suggests we're not just living corpses. Take away the senses that we identify as providing our living aspect and we become corpses. There's more to our consciousness than what we grossly perceive through our senses. There's a lot going on with our bodies that we can't perceive through our senses and this comprises an "energy" body that carries subtle "winds" of our being that are just as important as sight, sound, touch, smell and taste.
On a physiological level, there's an analogy with electrical impulses of our nervous system, neurons firing in our brains, cellular formation, blood creation in bone marrow, skin dying, hair growing, etc., etc. It includes our heart beating and digestion and the functions of our major organs. We're not consciously aware of these things, but they are happening, and they are of great importance to our being alive.
The meditation starts with these functions, realizing them or imagining them or imagining being conscious of them, even though we don't know the particulars of what they are doing at any given moment.
But the energy body also contains emotions and impulse thoughts, intuitive thought and instinctive reactions. Humor is an example of one of these energy elements. As well as desire and hostility. Focusing on different elements can help different people start to be aware of and identify this "energy body" and the winds that carry aspects of our being we're otherwise unaware of or don't care about.
This is just the starting point. And there's a whole nother aspect of investigating it which involves sexual energies. It's something I'm certainly unwilling to go into. I don't think there's anything written down in terms of specific teachings because it can't be taught.
It might be within a category of intuition meditation where individuals have to figure it out themselves because any external teaching is suspect of being perverse or prurient. You can only learn it when you're ready, and when you're ready, you'll figure it out yourself, and no one else can know if you're ready and have the proper discipline to separate instinctive, animalistic sexual urge and lust from transcendent, "divine", sexually instigated understanding and wisdom. Wisdom not derived from consciousness based on our gross senses.
I've said too much already, meaning I've displayed too much of my ignorance already. Although Thurman's use of terminology such as "primal bliss-wisdom" and "orgasmic ecstasy" to describe the experience is specifically chosen and not unrelated to this, I shouldn't wonder.
I think I first picked up a used copy of this translation at some bookstore on 16th St. in San Francisco some 9 or 10 years ago. It was my introduction to Tibetan thought and methodology.
Robert Thurman ordained as a novice monk in the 60s, but before fully ordaining, he returned his robes (not an uncommon occurrence) and returned to the States and became a scholar on Tibet; professor of Tibetan Studies at Columbia University and founder of Tibet House, based in Manhattan. Father to Uma.
It was pretty mind-blowing back then and I marked up that book real good. I gave that copy to my cousin in 2004 or 2005. The last I heard, she hadn't read it and I'm predicting she won't until I die or disappear, presumed gone for good.
It's not quite as mind-blowing this time around as the ideas are pretty standard Dzogchen teachings, which I've repeatedly been exposed to through the years. I've also gotten more acquainted with Robert Thurman's distinct style, and I'm reading that more in the book now. Although there's still a lot to appreciate, there's very little I'm marking this time around.
There is an aspect I've been delving into that makes re-reading it now very timely. I don't always like Robert Thurman's choice of terminology, but there are concepts that I've been exploring that are clearly the same as what he explicates in his book.
The Tibetan methodology on death studies I might describe as personal scientific. It has been referred to as "science of the mind", but I don't think many of the insights can't be objectively verified scientifically. They can, however, be subjectively verified, following the methodology, but even as such, they cannot be dogmatically insisted upon as being some truth. It's an aspect of faith that instructs, "go figure it out yourself".
Another book I've recently read and found illuminating is the Dalai Lama's Advice on Dying and Living a Better Life. Tibetan methodology on death sciences focuses intently on the nature of consciousness and meditation on it.
On the most basic level, it's important to separate gross consciousness, which is the result of our physical senses feeding information to our brain which processes the information to form what we call consciousness, from suggestions that other processes are involved which define our being and are important.
When we die, those physical senses fail and that gross consciousness which is the result of our senses becomes irrelevant. And it might be the other processes, perhaps described as inner winds or subtle winds, that carry our karma through to whatever's next for each individual.
It's suggested that our adherence to gross consciousness is the deepest form of karma there is. It's what keeps us in the cycle of life, death and rebirth because it has become habit to live according to these perceptions which create what we call consciousness and reality.
As Robert Thurman puts it: The "presence-habit" is the deepest level of misknowing conceptualization, which maintains the sense of "being here now" as something or someone finite . . . supporting addictive and objective instincts of self-preservation, and blocking awareness of the primal bliss-wisdom indivisible of the eternal reality of enlightenment.
So what else is there? I don't know if the Dalai Lama used the phrase, but the phrase I got out of his book was "energy body". Thurman mentions a "magic body" which might be the same thing, although that's an example of his terminology that I don't like. There's nothing "magic" or magical about it.
But it suggests we're not just living corpses. Take away the senses that we identify as providing our living aspect and we become corpses. There's more to our consciousness than what we grossly perceive through our senses. There's a lot going on with our bodies that we can't perceive through our senses and this comprises an "energy" body that carries subtle "winds" of our being that are just as important as sight, sound, touch, smell and taste.
On a physiological level, there's an analogy with electrical impulses of our nervous system, neurons firing in our brains, cellular formation, blood creation in bone marrow, skin dying, hair growing, etc., etc. It includes our heart beating and digestion and the functions of our major organs. We're not consciously aware of these things, but they are happening, and they are of great importance to our being alive.
The meditation starts with these functions, realizing them or imagining them or imagining being conscious of them, even though we don't know the particulars of what they are doing at any given moment.
But the energy body also contains emotions and impulse thoughts, intuitive thought and instinctive reactions. Humor is an example of one of these energy elements. As well as desire and hostility. Focusing on different elements can help different people start to be aware of and identify this "energy body" and the winds that carry aspects of our being we're otherwise unaware of or don't care about.
This is just the starting point. And there's a whole nother aspect of investigating it which involves sexual energies. It's something I'm certainly unwilling to go into. I don't think there's anything written down in terms of specific teachings because it can't be taught.
It might be within a category of intuition meditation where individuals have to figure it out themselves because any external teaching is suspect of being perverse or prurient. You can only learn it when you're ready, and when you're ready, you'll figure it out yourself, and no one else can know if you're ready and have the proper discipline to separate instinctive, animalistic sexual urge and lust from transcendent, "divine", sexually instigated understanding and wisdom. Wisdom not derived from consciousness based on our gross senses.
I've said too much already, meaning I've displayed too much of my ignorance already. Although Thurman's use of terminology such as "primal bliss-wisdom" and "orgasmic ecstasy" to describe the experience is specifically chosen and not unrelated to this, I shouldn't wonder.
Thursday, September 06, 2012
I got together with an acquaintance today. I may have mentioned her before, her name is Tako and she was a co-worker from the China Post several years back. I never attributed much to our acquaintance, although we did converse a bit, even a little bit after our time at the newspaper, and seemed to have some bit of a connection.
Friend? No. Nothing elevated our interactions to the point of being able to call it friendship, despite having shared a lot, including a lot of music.
For the past year, she has been in Australia. Before she left for Australia, she asked if we could meet up. I declined. We're not in such constant contact that I was willing to meet up just to say goodbye, and I told her as much.
If our acquaintance was of any meaning, then we would have been meeting up regularly anyway. I would have known she was thinking of going to Australia! We hadn't been, so if she suddenly wanted to meet up because she was about to leave, fuck that. It's not worth my time or effort. I told her I'd welcome her when she came back.
After a year, she came back for a visit and asked if we could meet, and I expressed that I would not miss an opportunity to meet with her. So we met.
Meeting up with her affirmed any connection we had during our conversations before. She's a special person and I gave as good as advice as I could on life. Is she a friend? No. We met up, we parted and went our separate ways and she won't be occupying any mental space. If I never heard from her again, it wouldn't make any difference.
We spoke freely about anything that occurred to us, and one topic was about my penchant to walk away from any relationship I had; a self-destructive behavior that I don't recommend to anyone who wants to do anything with their lives, and I told her so. She asked me, as a request, not to walk away from her, and my response was easy. No.
My explanation was that I knew myself too well to not be able to promise that, but the truth is, despite whatever connection we seemed to be making, she doesn't come anywhere close to what I have considered a significant friend. If I made a list of the important people in my life, it would be an insult to the other people on the list, from my perspective and reckoning, to include her on it.
Friend? No. Nothing elevated our interactions to the point of being able to call it friendship, despite having shared a lot, including a lot of music.
For the past year, she has been in Australia. Before she left for Australia, she asked if we could meet up. I declined. We're not in such constant contact that I was willing to meet up just to say goodbye, and I told her as much.
If our acquaintance was of any meaning, then we would have been meeting up regularly anyway. I would have known she was thinking of going to Australia! We hadn't been, so if she suddenly wanted to meet up because she was about to leave, fuck that. It's not worth my time or effort. I told her I'd welcome her when she came back.
After a year, she came back for a visit and asked if we could meet, and I expressed that I would not miss an opportunity to meet with her. So we met.
Meeting up with her affirmed any connection we had during our conversations before. She's a special person and I gave as good as advice as I could on life. Is she a friend? No. We met up, we parted and went our separate ways and she won't be occupying any mental space. If I never heard from her again, it wouldn't make any difference.
We spoke freely about anything that occurred to us, and one topic was about my penchant to walk away from any relationship I had; a self-destructive behavior that I don't recommend to anyone who wants to do anything with their lives, and I told her so. She asked me, as a request, not to walk away from her, and my response was easy. No.
My explanation was that I knew myself too well to not be able to promise that, but the truth is, despite whatever connection we seemed to be making, she doesn't come anywhere close to what I have considered a significant friend. If I made a list of the important people in my life, it would be an insult to the other people on the list, from my perspective and reckoning, to include her on it.
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
Xindian->Rt. 110->Dahan River east bank
This was a revisit of a ride that I used to do when I lived in Xindian, south of Taipei. Now I live in east Taipei, and the rides I discovered while I lived in Xindian require the extra ride of going to south of Taipei, so I haven't done any of them in quite some while.
Although I knew this ride could be of considerable distance, I knew this ride didn't have any challenging climbs. As it turned out, at 35 miles, it wasn't even of considerable distance, although there were a couple of ways I could've extended it well beyond 40 miles.
This ride had 3 sections: the urban ride through Taipei and down through Xindian, then the significant portion of the ride on route 110, which is pretty rural and contains the only modest climb, and then the return home which is almost all on riverside bikeways.
Towards the beginning of the route 110 section, I caught up and passed another cyclist who was decked out in full cycling gear, riding a fancy bike. I wasn't trying to be dominant or drop him, I was simply riding faster than him at that point.
It didn't bother me when he got on my wheel and got in my draft. Sadly, many Taiwanese riders I've encountered aren't aware of cooperative drafting and their responses to me drafting them have been pretty variable and some silly.
Basically drafting is when you ride right behind someone else. The person in front is doing all the work of cutting through the air, and the person behind benefits from being in the slipstream and not using as much energy to maintain a certain speed.
In professional cycling, a person takes a turn in front and then peels off and goes to the back to let someone else take a turn. In hobbyist road cycling among strangers, it's not that organized or certain that they have the concept, and if someone gets on someone else's wheel, instead of the person in front peeling off, the person behind will push forward to let the person in front know they are taking a turn.
And with this guy, I thought I found someone who knew drafting etiquette; he got on my wheel and then pulled in front to take a turn, then I pulled in front to take a turn, but then he pulled in front on a hill and dropped me. He even looked back to see if I was going to challenge him. Fuck no, you keep your Tour de France fantasy, I'm too old for this shit.
I dunno. Did he think it was some competition? I sure didn't and didn't give a crap. Although the fact that I couldn't keep up with him emphasized the fact that I am old and I've gotten seriously weak, and should be wondering how long I'm going to keep this charade up just because the market has produced the bike GPS device I wish had existed more than 10 years ago.
Monday, September 03, 2012
It's all good and fine to do the best one can in tackling mindfulness issues, one of mine being negativity, with one push-button issue of (karmic) violence and aggression. I'm generally not violent or aggressive in any way. Even when I feel an instance of anger flare up, I'm quick to extinguish it.
That instance of anger is important and I'll come back to it, but as to violence and aggression, I'm wary about this part of my mindstream that runs through scenarios where I encounter a confrontational situation where I take offense and lose any mindfulness or equilibrium and go ape shit on the other person.
Part of me says not to worry about it, it will never manifest, I'll never act on it. But then yesterday morning I had a dream where I did act on it. I don't remember specifics of the dream except that a situation arose, there was a sense of either offense or threat, and I went all out and attacked with the intention to destroy.
I don't remember the result, except that I came out fine, and that the person was somewhat reminiscent of someone I knew in my first year of college. That person was someone I had no problem with and totally respected.
She was an upperclassman, a bass player and a bit of a bull dyke. I think she was an East Asian Studies major and spoke Japanese, so maybe she was a bit of a lesbian rice queen. No problem there. And in reality she could've kicked my ass, as I think she also had some military experience in her background. No idea there.
The point about the dream, and the rest of it was also filled with my own fear and being threatened, is that it was scary because it establishes that violent and aggressive nature in my karma in a definitive way. The way I see it is that as it manifested in a dream, it was proven that it is something real in my subconscious that I have to worry about and deal with.
That flaky mindfulness thing about "I'll do the best I can" is not good enough. And I think this may be an important point about enlightenment, where serious transformation must be faced and achieved. Where doing the best you can is, quite frankly, easy. How about doing what you can't. Open your eyes and don't see. I can't. Well, do it.
I'm led to believe my karma has issues of violence and aggression, and it's rooted in anger. I've gotten good at clamping down on anger flaring up. As soon as I encounter a situation where I react in even the mildest offense of "What the hell are you doing?", I shut it down.
That's no reason to pat myself on the back. That may be doing the best I can. The impossible is wiping out any mote of anger flaring up at all, and that's what needs to be done in the scan of my perception of reality. Wipe out that karma completely. How do you wipe out karma that was created by someone else (previous life/lives)?!
It has become instinctual and immediate. It is part of my fabric. How do I not get angry for even a microsecond, how do I not react? But it has to be done no matter how impossible it seems. That's what may be considered transformational.
That instance of anger is important and I'll come back to it, but as to violence and aggression, I'm wary about this part of my mindstream that runs through scenarios where I encounter a confrontational situation where I take offense and lose any mindfulness or equilibrium and go ape shit on the other person.
Part of me says not to worry about it, it will never manifest, I'll never act on it. But then yesterday morning I had a dream where I did act on it. I don't remember specifics of the dream except that a situation arose, there was a sense of either offense or threat, and I went all out and attacked with the intention to destroy.
I don't remember the result, except that I came out fine, and that the person was somewhat reminiscent of someone I knew in my first year of college. That person was someone I had no problem with and totally respected.
She was an upperclassman, a bass player and a bit of a bull dyke. I think she was an East Asian Studies major and spoke Japanese, so maybe she was a bit of a lesbian rice queen. No problem there. And in reality she could've kicked my ass, as I think she also had some military experience in her background. No idea there.
The point about the dream, and the rest of it was also filled with my own fear and being threatened, is that it was scary because it establishes that violent and aggressive nature in my karma in a definitive way. The way I see it is that as it manifested in a dream, it was proven that it is something real in my subconscious that I have to worry about and deal with.
That flaky mindfulness thing about "I'll do the best I can" is not good enough. And I think this may be an important point about enlightenment, where serious transformation must be faced and achieved. Where doing the best you can is, quite frankly, easy. How about doing what you can't. Open your eyes and don't see. I can't. Well, do it.
I'm led to believe my karma has issues of violence and aggression, and it's rooted in anger. I've gotten good at clamping down on anger flaring up. As soon as I encounter a situation where I react in even the mildest offense of "What the hell are you doing?", I shut it down.
That's no reason to pat myself on the back. That may be doing the best I can. The impossible is wiping out any mote of anger flaring up at all, and that's what needs to be done in the scan of my perception of reality. Wipe out that karma completely. How do you wipe out karma that was created by someone else (previous life/lives)?!
It has become instinctual and immediate. It is part of my fabric. How do I not get angry for even a microsecond, how do I not react? But it has to be done no matter how impossible it seems. That's what may be considered transformational.
Saturday, September 01, 2012
泰安路 (Taian Road, 1,473 ft.), Cidu
Another example of the advantage of having GPS on a bike. I was planning on doing a tried and true ride out to Ruifang and Taiwan's east coast and looping back through Keelung and heading home. I recall the ride being long, but with only a little climbing.
But while heading out to Ruifang, I came across a road that had always intrigued me and made me wonder if there was anywhere worth riding. There was a bunch of signage at the intersection that led under a railroad overpass that made me think it was a tourist destination.
So I checked the GPS, found that it was a climb, but it was an out and back road. It didn't go anywhere. I decided to abandon the original ride and do the climb, knowing it was out and back, and having done an unplanned climb, I could just go home with a satisfactory ride.
The climbs I've been doing have been increasing little by little. I'm still convinced I'm cooked on climbs, due to age and/or alcohol. I just can't do them like I used to. I have yet to break either a 2,000 foot climb or 2,000 feet of accumulated climbing.
And there are limitations to the GPS because of human error. I found a certain bridge closed on my return home, and in plotting an alternate route to bypass the bridge, I didn't follow what looked on the map to be the most direct way to get back on the road to Taipei and went on what was familiar and "made sense" and ended up taking the long way just to backtrack to the exact opposite side of that closed bridge. I ended up riding several more miles than I had to, albeit the shorter way would've been through car and truck-choked urban streets of Xizhi.
Shortening miles isn't necessarily the point of rides or GPS, but sometimes it comes in handy when running out of fuel or time.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Danshui
Completely flat ride to Danshui, one that has been typical during the past two years that I say I haven't been riding. Riding on riverside bikeways is not riding. Training perhaps. There's nothing challenging about riding on riverside bikeways aside from not getting annoyed at other people on them who aren't cyclists or who don't know proper etiquette.
The big loop on the map is due to the GPS when I decided to test navigation using the GPS without having pre-planned where I was going, and it worked like a charm and I was easily able to figure out where I was and where I wanted to go based on previous experience (although annoying is that the MRT red line is depicted by a . . . red line, the same that indicates the GPS route).
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Shenkeng-Shiding climb
Shenkeng-Shiding climb
This ride was the product of having a GPS on a bike, for better or worse. The GPS allows, either upon doing or reviewing a ride, to discover other possible routes and roads to try. In this case it was a road that I noticed and decided to try. It was a climb and slightly higher than the climbs I had been doing, and ended up in familiar territory.
As a climb, it was fine, and fortunately with the GPS, when I went off course two times, I noticed and was able to get back. But the descent into Shiding was pretty miserable with ridiculously steep downhills and ending up on a bit of road that was unpaved, making this a ride that I won't be doing again.
I thought of returning to Taipei using an easy climb from Shenkeng that I found earlier, but I started late in the afternoon and it looked like it might get dark while still on inclines, so I abandoned that idea and backtracked my way home.
Friday, August 24, 2012
My day to days are simply getting from day to day. Can't say I'm particularly happy, but certainly not unhappy. I have nothing to complain about, but I do sometimes and then I stop myself.
I don't feel particularly desirous for anything, but I'm aware of my human nature, which by nature has the concept of desire in the mix. I'm at a measure of peace with myself, but I still grapple with my negativity, staring it down as an improper and unworthy way to be in this world.
I've never been one to bore easily, it's quite easy for me to amuse myself uselessly, but my day to day has taken it to epic levels. I'm wasting my life away in epic fashion (but aren't many people similarly wasting their lives away? . . . only much more busy, filled with things they do to give their lives meaning, but ultimately may be vain and fruitless).
Over the past recent years, I've lost most interest in all of the things I used to do that identified me. And at about the same time I've developed this "thing", this resonance over Korea. It's internal and not something to act on. I'm not going to start taking language classes or traveling to Korea or trying to meet Korean people. Not even re-connecting with the Korean people in my past. I'm not idealizing Korea, I'm fully aware of the faults of Korean society.
But a thought occurred to me that I totally don't believe in, but I'm gonna float it out anyway. With this whole unsuccessful suicide thing looking to becoming the story of my life (even though I feel suicide is my goal and purpose in life as a culmination of my understanding), I had this bizarre thought that on some plane of existence, in some imaginal or psychic realm, I have died and this psychic part of me is continuing on despite my not having died yet.
That psychic part of me got fed up with me blithering on about suicide, and finally said, "You keep being undecided about your physical self that you're obviously so attached to, I'm moving on". And there went all the things I used to enjoy, the things I used to do that identified me. Died.
And as I seem to have this idea that my next life will actually be in South Korea, in this imaginal, maybe mystic realm, my current consciousness has become very sensitive towards imprints and stimuli of South Korean culture.
If I had actually gone through with it and was re-born in South Korea, I'd be experiencing the real deal with no need for psychic or mystic realms. But since I'm not there physically, my current consciousness is responding to stimuli and imprints of where I should be.
I have no theoretical mechanics to offer to even try to explain this. Karma, or the same metaphysical substrate that might theoretically carry karma, may be involved. Maybe a sort of "reverse karma". When I do die and if I end up in Korea next, actual karma and this reverse karma just meld, and what is disjunct now come together.
As weird as that is even for me, the universe is a very weird place. The further scientific exploration takes our understanding, the weirder things get. So why not?
I don't feel particularly desirous for anything, but I'm aware of my human nature, which by nature has the concept of desire in the mix. I'm at a measure of peace with myself, but I still grapple with my negativity, staring it down as an improper and unworthy way to be in this world.
I've never been one to bore easily, it's quite easy for me to amuse myself uselessly, but my day to day has taken it to epic levels. I'm wasting my life away in epic fashion (but aren't many people similarly wasting their lives away? . . . only much more busy, filled with things they do to give their lives meaning, but ultimately may be vain and fruitless).
Over the past recent years, I've lost most interest in all of the things I used to do that identified me. And at about the same time I've developed this "thing", this resonance over Korea. It's internal and not something to act on. I'm not going to start taking language classes or traveling to Korea or trying to meet Korean people. Not even re-connecting with the Korean people in my past. I'm not idealizing Korea, I'm fully aware of the faults of Korean society.
But a thought occurred to me that I totally don't believe in, but I'm gonna float it out anyway. With this whole unsuccessful suicide thing looking to becoming the story of my life (even though I feel suicide is my goal and purpose in life as a culmination of my understanding), I had this bizarre thought that on some plane of existence, in some imaginal or psychic realm, I have died and this psychic part of me is continuing on despite my not having died yet.
That psychic part of me got fed up with me blithering on about suicide, and finally said, "You keep being undecided about your physical self that you're obviously so attached to, I'm moving on". And there went all the things I used to enjoy, the things I used to do that identified me. Died.
And as I seem to have this idea that my next life will actually be in South Korea, in this imaginal, maybe mystic realm, my current consciousness has become very sensitive towards imprints and stimuli of South Korean culture.
If I had actually gone through with it and was re-born in South Korea, I'd be experiencing the real deal with no need for psychic or mystic realms. But since I'm not there physically, my current consciousness is responding to stimuli and imprints of where I should be.
I have no theoretical mechanics to offer to even try to explain this. Karma, or the same metaphysical substrate that might theoretically carry karma, may be involved. Maybe a sort of "reverse karma". When I do die and if I end up in Korea next, actual karma and this reverse karma just meld, and what is disjunct now come together.
As weird as that is even for me, the universe is a very weird place. The further scientific exploration takes our understanding, the weirder things get. So why not?
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
two easy climbs
FDK->ShenKeng->舊莊 (2 easy climbs)
This turned out to be an anti-climatic ride. The first climb was Fudekeng that I'm well-acquainted with as an easy climb. I anticipated the second climb to be more challenging in my old age and alcoholism, and while doing it I was constantly paranoid of finding I couldn't do it. After multiple instances of going down to my grandpa gear, I realized the climb wasn't going any higher and I was on the descent, and it was, in the end, easy.
*Normative views of self or yourself are not assumed or condoned by this blog. Nor the view of "kill" for that matter.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Qidu hills
七堵 hills (Keelung)
Because of this Garmin GPS, I've been starting to ride again for the first time in two years. I don't think I rode at all last year, and any riding was all on flat, off-road riverside bikeways.
Unfortunately, due to age and alcohol intake, I'm a lot weaker now than I was even 4 years ago and hills are killing me. I just can't tackle them the way I used to and I wonder if I'll be able to even challenge more serious climbs.
But I've been testing myself on lesser climbs. The climbs in Cidu, east of Taipei and a part of Keelung district, I knew were probably manageable. Although before the GPS, I never got a feel for the routes because the previous times I went there, there was always some issue that never allowed me to discover a definite route through the hills.
Now it all makes sense, and there is a definite main course through the ride, and with variations that can take me into Keelung or other routes to complete the same climbs. With a maximum height of 858 feet, it should be a very manageable climb, and after the first cursory moments of suffering, I did manage it just fine.
And the GPS has been awesome in keeping me on course. Already several times I've started in the wrong direction and then noticed it only because of the GPS and was able to turn around and not get lost.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Minor double climb
Fudekeng/Jiannan double climb
Neither Fudekeng nor Jiannan is a major climb. Fudekeng is a 600 foot climb on an easy grade, and Jiannan is a slightly steeper grade, but a lesser 500 foot climb. The two climbs are separated by almost 10 miles of flat riverside bikeway (about 37 minutes).
I did cut this ride short because of time, and once I finished the Jiannan climb and descent into Shilin district, near the National Palace Museum, I took a shortcut through a tunnel back into Neihu district where the climb started, rather than taking an extended route on the riverside bikeways in Shilin, which was the plan, which would have added perhaps a few miles to the route, and which I'll probably do at some point.
For the love of god, I have no recollection of publishing the last two posts, much less completing them. Imagine my surprise opening up the post directory and seeing those drafts published and then rushing to check if it wasn't some regrettable drunken mistake.
And they were, no doubt, drunken mistakes, but upon looking them over, I think they're what I was getting at. That's a little comforting. It used to be that drunken blogging led to sober regret and immediate deleting of posts.
So, you see, I have progressed. Now I blog drunkenly and don't remember what I wrote or when I published it and then look at what I posted, and go, "well OK, then".
I did leave out geeking out about that specific ride, which I suppose I would've boringly done if I had the Edge 800 when I was younger. Emphasizing that it was a training ride, 700ft of climbing is not a show-off point, nor an 11mph average.
41 miles is a decent length, but after the short climb, it was all flat and included a snack break in the town of Shenkeng, famous for its stinky tofu. And Shenkeng stinky tofu is the only edible stinky tofu for this foreigner because they slather it in a tasty peanut sauce and stuff it with Korean kimchi.
And a lot of the ride was slow going because we had a typhoon (Saola) last week and the government is still clearing, cleaning and fixing the riverside parks. And I give credit to Taipei for taking the clean-up seriously, they've done a fantastic job, but it takes time to make them sparkly and shiny and there were some sections they were working on that were still caked with mud.
The Edge 800 is turning out to be great. It marks the total time of rides, but it also records the time that you were actually moving. So if you're stopped at a light or taking a break, it doesn't include that.
I probably won't remember publishing this post, either. I so don't remember how my nights end that I've started to record into a micro-cassette recorder I keep on my nightstand what time I turn off the lights and what I had been doing to be turning the lights off that late.
I'm sure I haven't mentioned that I broke my only shot glass (a double) several months ago. Drinking from a shot glass kinda acted as a regulator. I'd drink a shot and then there'd be some lag time until the next one.
But now I'm just drinking out of glasses, so I just fill them up to what may look to some to be an impressive level, and I sip, but there's still more there, and so I just keep drinkin' it and re-fillin' it and all of a sudden I'm thinkin' in a Scottish accent.
You're not really drunk until you're speaking in strange accents. But since I have no one to talk to, it's just thinking in strange accents. Mind you, my kind of drunkenness still entails washing my glasses and brushing my teeth before turning off the lights.
And they were, no doubt, drunken mistakes, but upon looking them over, I think they're what I was getting at. That's a little comforting. It used to be that drunken blogging led to sober regret and immediate deleting of posts.
So, you see, I have progressed. Now I blog drunkenly and don't remember what I wrote or when I published it and then look at what I posted, and go, "well OK, then".
I did leave out geeking out about that specific ride, which I suppose I would've boringly done if I had the Edge 800 when I was younger. Emphasizing that it was a training ride, 700ft of climbing is not a show-off point, nor an 11mph average.
41 miles is a decent length, but after the short climb, it was all flat and included a snack break in the town of Shenkeng, famous for its stinky tofu. And Shenkeng stinky tofu is the only edible stinky tofu for this foreigner because they slather it in a tasty peanut sauce and stuff it with Korean kimchi.
And a lot of the ride was slow going because we had a typhoon (Saola) last week and the government is still clearing, cleaning and fixing the riverside parks. And I give credit to Taipei for taking the clean-up seriously, they've done a fantastic job, but it takes time to make them sparkly and shiny and there were some sections they were working on that were still caked with mud.
The Edge 800 is turning out to be great. It marks the total time of rides, but it also records the time that you were actually moving. So if you're stopped at a light or taking a break, it doesn't include that.
I probably won't remember publishing this post, either. I so don't remember how my nights end that I've started to record into a micro-cassette recorder I keep on my nightstand what time I turn off the lights and what I had been doing to be turning the lights off that late.
I'm sure I haven't mentioned that I broke my only shot glass (a double) several months ago. Drinking from a shot glass kinda acted as a regulator. I'd drink a shot and then there'd be some lag time until the next one.
But now I'm just drinking out of glasses, so I just fill them up to what may look to some to be an impressive level, and I sip, but there's still more there, and so I just keep drinkin' it and re-fillin' it and all of a sudden I'm thinkin' in a Scottish accent.
You're not really drunk until you're speaking in strange accents. But since I have no one to talk to, it's just thinking in strange accents. Mind you, my kind of drunkenness still entails washing my glasses and brushing my teeth before turning off the lights.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Testing. And blowing my mind. And pondering:
FDK->ShenKeng->full bikeways home
So about that windfall I mentioned. I've been loosening my attachments towards money, about which I profess is not an issue in this lifetime, and it isn't. I really believe it isn't.
I've been buying stuff, but it's not like I'm suddenly indulging in new found luxury. Mostly I've just been replacing stuff that I've been holding out upgrading. And the things I've been upgrading have been long due.
The Casio G-shock altimeter watch replaced the Timex Helix that I've had for about 10 years and which finally died while I rode over cobblestones that it couldn't handle. My focus on G-shock was specifically related to that.
I bought new tires for my bike, which replaced tires I bought 4 years ago, and it was not the first time I rode tires to the point of being able to see the steel wires at their core. Believe me, by that point, you've been riding on tires much too long.
New cycling gloves were not a big deal, but the cycling shorts I've been riding on for the past 10 years, I can tell you 10 years is beyond their lifetime. Extended rides were getting reasonably painful and my new padded shorts have been . . . just fine.
And my new shoes are no joke. I can't believe I've been suffering my old cycling shoes for over 10 years. They'd gotten to the point of being painful on extended rides (not unlike the shorts), and with the new shoes extended distances put no further strain on my feet.
I really appreciated the local Giant bike shop from which I got my new shoes when they told me the clips on my old shoes were fine and could be transferred onto the new shoes and I didn't need to replace my pedals.
But the point of this post is the Garmin Edge 800 bike GPS I bought. All of the things I've purchased as a result of this recent windfall has been replacement stuff or enhancement of perishable stuffs. That's important. If I'm spending money to acquire stuff, there needs to be a point.
I justify the Edge 800 purchase because it is something I wanted all along. It sucks that this technology comes so late in my life. It is exactly what I would have wanted 10 years ago when I was doing rides around the Bay Area.
I'm not riding like I was 10 years ago, nor am I the rider that I was 10 years ago. 10 years ago I was tackling hills of any size with gusto to test myself. Now, I'm struggling with hills, wondering if I can do the easiest of them. Buying this Edge 800 GPS unit is basically just an overdue gift to myself.
I would have loved to have a device that recorded my rides 10 years ago in the Bay Area; climbs, altitudes, pace, routes, etc. I was just happy with my basic Cateye bike computer that told me distance and speeds.
In the same way I would have loved to have grown up with an iPod, being able to put all the music I found in one location. Keeping all the music I found despite technology advancements from LPs to cassettes to CDs to MP3s.
But without the technology lag, I wonder if artists would have found the freedom to create the music they did before technology became such a dominant factor in consumers' lives.
I was into 70s progressive rock and 90s indie rock. Could either of those genres have survived in the digital era? I honestly don't know. But they did survive in people appreciating them like me in spite of the digital era.
I can only wonder if future generations can appreciate that kind of music. If they can, it's their gain. If they can't, it's not their loss, I shouldn't wonder. If they don't appreciate it, you can't fault them. It's just not for them.
Time has passed me by through technology. I didn't need to buy this Garmin Edge 800, I don't need my iPod(s). They enhance my appreciation of my general being here, but I'm not attaching to them.
As a product review, the Edge 800 is everything a cyclist could want in a bike mounted GPS unit, I shouldn't wonder. Certainly future models might improve on it, but until that happens, you need to have a pretty specific workout routine to be unhappy with this product.
FDK->ShenKeng->full bikeways home
So about that windfall I mentioned. I've been loosening my attachments towards money, about which I profess is not an issue in this lifetime, and it isn't. I really believe it isn't.
I've been buying stuff, but it's not like I'm suddenly indulging in new found luxury. Mostly I've just been replacing stuff that I've been holding out upgrading. And the things I've been upgrading have been long due.
The Casio G-shock altimeter watch replaced the Timex Helix that I've had for about 10 years and which finally died while I rode over cobblestones that it couldn't handle. My focus on G-shock was specifically related to that.
I bought new tires for my bike, which replaced tires I bought 4 years ago, and it was not the first time I rode tires to the point of being able to see the steel wires at their core. Believe me, by that point, you've been riding on tires much too long.
New cycling gloves were not a big deal, but the cycling shorts I've been riding on for the past 10 years, I can tell you 10 years is beyond their lifetime. Extended rides were getting reasonably painful and my new padded shorts have been . . . just fine.
And my new shoes are no joke. I can't believe I've been suffering my old cycling shoes for over 10 years. They'd gotten to the point of being painful on extended rides (not unlike the shorts), and with the new shoes extended distances put no further strain on my feet.
I really appreciated the local Giant bike shop from which I got my new shoes when they told me the clips on my old shoes were fine and could be transferred onto the new shoes and I didn't need to replace my pedals.
But the point of this post is the Garmin Edge 800 bike GPS I bought. All of the things I've purchased as a result of this recent windfall has been replacement stuff or enhancement of perishable stuffs. That's important. If I'm spending money to acquire stuff, there needs to be a point.
I justify the Edge 800 purchase because it is something I wanted all along. It sucks that this technology comes so late in my life. It is exactly what I would have wanted 10 years ago when I was doing rides around the Bay Area.
I'm not riding like I was 10 years ago, nor am I the rider that I was 10 years ago. 10 years ago I was tackling hills of any size with gusto to test myself. Now, I'm struggling with hills, wondering if I can do the easiest of them. Buying this Edge 800 GPS unit is basically just an overdue gift to myself.
I would have loved to have a device that recorded my rides 10 years ago in the Bay Area; climbs, altitudes, pace, routes, etc. I was just happy with my basic Cateye bike computer that told me distance and speeds.
In the same way I would have loved to have grown up with an iPod, being able to put all the music I found in one location. Keeping all the music I found despite technology advancements from LPs to cassettes to CDs to MP3s.
But without the technology lag, I wonder if artists would have found the freedom to create the music they did before technology became such a dominant factor in consumers' lives.
I was into 70s progressive rock and 90s indie rock. Could either of those genres have survived in the digital era? I honestly don't know. But they did survive in people appreciating them like me in spite of the digital era.
I can only wonder if future generations can appreciate that kind of music. If they can, it's their gain. If they can't, it's not their loss, I shouldn't wonder. If they don't appreciate it, you can't fault them. It's just not for them.
Time has passed me by through technology. I didn't need to buy this Garmin Edge 800, I don't need my iPod(s). They enhance my appreciation of my general being here, but I'm not attaching to them.
As a product review, the Edge 800 is everything a cyclist could want in a bike mounted GPS unit, I shouldn't wonder. Certainly future models might improve on it, but until that happens, you need to have a pretty specific workout routine to be unhappy with this product.
Thursday, August 02, 2012
There's a line in Richard Bach's book Illusions which goes something like, "If you're wondering whether your mission in life is finished, if you're alive, it isn't".
I'm still alive, but I do have a feeling my mission in this life is finished. Actually, I'll prefer to say that I'm at my journey's end, and have been for a while. If life is a path, I'm literally at the end of it, there's no where to go for me from here; from this cruddy little apartment in Taipei.
The physical path has ended, and only the temporal path has been lingering until I decide to have a personal breakthrough regarding existence and reality.
There's nothing I want to do, nowhere I want to go. I'm not going anywhere, not on my own accord. I don't feel bad about it, I feel free, only trapped by my own mind, limitations and neurotic. And I do consider myself very, very fortunate. But I can't even conceive of taking the very first steps to move again, whether to another apartment, to Kaohsiung, or back to the U.S.
If I wanted to, I could continue with a mission. I could become a participant in my young nephews' and nieces' lives, but there's nothing compelling me towards that mission. They'll be fine without me, I shouldn't wonder, and with me there's no establishing they will be better off for it.
My path is just my own path. I decide when the mission is done.
I'm still alive, but I do have a feeling my mission in this life is finished. Actually, I'll prefer to say that I'm at my journey's end, and have been for a while. If life is a path, I'm literally at the end of it, there's no where to go for me from here; from this cruddy little apartment in Taipei.
The physical path has ended, and only the temporal path has been lingering until I decide to have a personal breakthrough regarding existence and reality.
There's nothing I want to do, nowhere I want to go. I'm not going anywhere, not on my own accord. I don't feel bad about it, I feel free, only trapped by my own mind, limitations and neurotic. And I do consider myself very, very fortunate. But I can't even conceive of taking the very first steps to move again, whether to another apartment, to Kaohsiung, or back to the U.S.
If I wanted to, I could continue with a mission. I could become a participant in my young nephews' and nieces' lives, but there's nothing compelling me towards that mission. They'll be fine without me, I shouldn't wonder, and with me there's no establishing they will be better off for it.
My path is just my own path. I decide when the mission is done.
Monday, July 30, 2012
"Issues I'm dealing with in this lifetime". I was introduced to that idea in my first year of college, I think from Richard Bach's Illusions. We choose our issues, our problems that we have to work on to grow spiritually. We are the otters of the universe.
Back then, suicide was already on my agenda, although much more angsty and not the edifice of philosophically developed bullshit I seem to think has a leg to stand on now. I labeled the issue I'm dealing with in this lifetime as "existence". And now that I think of it, that hasn't changed much through the years. As pretentious as "existence" sounds as an issue when I first identified it, I haven't replaced or upgraded it to anything else. Suicide for me is an existential issue.
But presently, I can tuck that issue in my cap because of another issue I'm recognizing in my self-imposed isolation. I'm not sure what to call it, but it feels like some sort of paralysis. I don't want anything, I don't want to do anything anymore. And by "paralysis", I mean that simply as a descriptive and not as something negative. Perhaps perplexing, but not negative.
People, if they're not depressed, want to do something. I understand it. For a large portion of my life, I wanted to do music. I wanted to practice, I wanted to play. I don't anymore. I may pick up an instrument now and then and noodle, but there's no feeling or wanting anymore. It's wet noodling. I used to be a runner, and that was almost a compulsion. If I didn't run, I would get antsy. It was even metaphor and motto, "you don't stop", á là A Tribe Called Quest. You don't stop meant the pursuit and the passion, which included towards suicide, as death is a part of life. I stopped. Then I got into cycling, and I still go for rides, but it's a major production in my head and a chore to get myself out the door by the scruff of my neck. It's not that I want to ride, I'm practically forcing myself.
People, if they're not depressed, want to be social and hang out with friends. I just don't want to. Some people I know have called me out and after reluctantly agreeing and meeting up with them, they subsequently haven't made any contact. Maybe I've become socially inept. I didn't feel I was inept, but it also may have just been the vibe I gave off. As much as I tried not to give it, it was, "I don't want to be here and want to leave as soon as I can".
I haven't rented a movie in an awful long time, because I just don't care to. I've been to Blockbusters since, but I would just walk out empty-handed.
Family in Kaohsiung have made overtures, but I just have no interest. I can't imagine a visit to Kaohsiung. What would I do there? Stare at family members I can't communicate with or be marginalized by family members having a conversation I can't participate in? Been there, done that.
I could travel now if I wanted with that windfall, but I just have no interest. Not even Taiwan, much less respond to Madoka's entreaty to visit her in Japan after she heard about the windfall. As much as I love Madoka and feel comfortable with her, I can't imagine going there and interacting with her in close quarters for whatever amount of time I'd be there. I'd want to be alone. I can't even imagine making the effort to go visit her.
And love itself. Just NO INTEREST. I don't want to be loved, I don't need to be loved, I'm perfectly happy not loved. Love, sex, intimacy: no interest. Connection: no interest.
And New Jersey family is asking me if I'm going for a visit for my father's 80th birthday, and I just have no interest. I'm still composing my email response that I don't want to go. Birthdays have never been a big deal in our family and family gatherings I've always found to be awkward. I can't imagine a visit to New Jersey. I'm trying to make the email not sound grim. If they do press for me to go, I might concede, though. Everything's a big whatever, meh.
I do things during the course of my days because I have to do something. I'm not a vegetable yet. I've already said I'm not a hermit. I can watch TV or DVDs or surf the net all day. I read at bookstores and the library. I go out to eat and I do eat, but I can't say I have much of an appetite these days. I don't ever feel hungry. I go out and eat because it's something to do and to ward off what I expect will become hunger if I don't.
I know, it all sounds like depression, but I don't think I'm depressed. I don't feel depressed. I'm fairly at peace, I really have nothing to complain about, so I don't for most part and dismiss it when I do. I cultivate happiness just for the sake of happiness; happiness not being the result of desire or acquisition, but just from this idea of conscious human existence. I'm here, why not be happy? I'm here, why be miserable?
Back then, suicide was already on my agenda, although much more angsty and not the edifice of philosophically developed bullshit I seem to think has a leg to stand on now. I labeled the issue I'm dealing with in this lifetime as "existence". And now that I think of it, that hasn't changed much through the years. As pretentious as "existence" sounds as an issue when I first identified it, I haven't replaced or upgraded it to anything else. Suicide for me is an existential issue.
But presently, I can tuck that issue in my cap because of another issue I'm recognizing in my self-imposed isolation. I'm not sure what to call it, but it feels like some sort of paralysis. I don't want anything, I don't want to do anything anymore. And by "paralysis", I mean that simply as a descriptive and not as something negative. Perhaps perplexing, but not negative.
People, if they're not depressed, want to do something. I understand it. For a large portion of my life, I wanted to do music. I wanted to practice, I wanted to play. I don't anymore. I may pick up an instrument now and then and noodle, but there's no feeling or wanting anymore. It's wet noodling. I used to be a runner, and that was almost a compulsion. If I didn't run, I would get antsy. It was even metaphor and motto, "you don't stop", á là A Tribe Called Quest. You don't stop meant the pursuit and the passion, which included towards suicide, as death is a part of life. I stopped. Then I got into cycling, and I still go for rides, but it's a major production in my head and a chore to get myself out the door by the scruff of my neck. It's not that I want to ride, I'm practically forcing myself.
People, if they're not depressed, want to be social and hang out with friends. I just don't want to. Some people I know have called me out and after reluctantly agreeing and meeting up with them, they subsequently haven't made any contact. Maybe I've become socially inept. I didn't feel I was inept, but it also may have just been the vibe I gave off. As much as I tried not to give it, it was, "I don't want to be here and want to leave as soon as I can".
I haven't rented a movie in an awful long time, because I just don't care to. I've been to Blockbusters since, but I would just walk out empty-handed.
Family in Kaohsiung have made overtures, but I just have no interest. I can't imagine a visit to Kaohsiung. What would I do there? Stare at family members I can't communicate with or be marginalized by family members having a conversation I can't participate in? Been there, done that.
I could travel now if I wanted with that windfall, but I just have no interest. Not even Taiwan, much less respond to Madoka's entreaty to visit her in Japan after she heard about the windfall. As much as I love Madoka and feel comfortable with her, I can't imagine going there and interacting with her in close quarters for whatever amount of time I'd be there. I'd want to be alone. I can't even imagine making the effort to go visit her.
And love itself. Just NO INTEREST. I don't want to be loved, I don't need to be loved, I'm perfectly happy not loved. Love, sex, intimacy: no interest. Connection: no interest.
And New Jersey family is asking me if I'm going for a visit for my father's 80th birthday, and I just have no interest. I'm still composing my email response that I don't want to go. Birthdays have never been a big deal in our family and family gatherings I've always found to be awkward. I can't imagine a visit to New Jersey. I'm trying to make the email not sound grim. If they do press for me to go, I might concede, though. Everything's a big whatever, meh.
I do things during the course of my days because I have to do something. I'm not a vegetable yet. I've already said I'm not a hermit. I can watch TV or DVDs or surf the net all day. I read at bookstores and the library. I go out to eat and I do eat, but I can't say I have much of an appetite these days. I don't ever feel hungry. I go out and eat because it's something to do and to ward off what I expect will become hunger if I don't.
I know, it all sounds like depression, but I don't think I'm depressed. I don't feel depressed. I'm fairly at peace, I really have nothing to complain about, so I don't for most part and dismiss it when I do. I cultivate happiness just for the sake of happiness; happiness not being the result of desire or acquisition, but just from this idea of conscious human existence. I'm here, why not be happy? I'm here, why be miserable?
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I'm trying to figure out what to make of a huge windfall that would have anyone more deserving and appreciative doing cartwheels and floating on air.
My cousin called a while ago, and she told me some things had happened regarding family stuff and to expect some extra money in my bank account. I said, "oh", and after asking a few questions about what happened and hearing the answers, I didn't think any further of it. Not really any of my business.
Then a few weeks later I went to get rent money and saw my account balance and said, "oh ... my", and understood why my cousin had emphasized, "... you can probably stay in Taiwan for a loong time".
Actually, it happened like this: I withdrew the rent money and got the receipt and glanced at the left side of the balance, expecting to see 3 numbers in front of a comma and all would've been fine. Instead I saw a single number in front of the comma and thought, "that could be bad", and left the bank wondering if my account had been hacked. Where did the money go? That would be a game changer. No more money, time for plan B. Well plan A, which perpetually seems to be plan ... Q.
Then out on the sidewalk I glanced at the receipt again and looked at the right side of the balance and saw there were 3 extra numbers that I hadn't noticed before. Eyes widen. Oh ... my. I couldn't even try to calculate how much it was in U.S., and when I got home and did the calculation, I thought, "I think I'm going to get that G-Shock altimeter watch that I'd been eying since my Timex died".
I don't consider it my money. I'm just the custodian until I can hot potato it back to my parents where it belongs, but I recognize my parents' intention here. It's not my money, but I can use it however I see fit. And somewhere along the line, they've also seen fit to stop pressuring me to do anything.
And I'm reminded about a realization I had a long time ago that money is not one of the issues I have to deal with in this lifetime. It's not my current karma. Maybe I've dealt with it in past lifetimes, maybe I'll have to deal with it in future lifetimes, but it's not an issue in this lifetime.
Which means it doesn't matter if I don't have money; no money, go to plan Q. Or R. It doesn't matter if I have money, I'm not going to get bent out of shape if I do have it. It doesn't change anything. Reality and existence issues are the same either way.
However, I'd be in denial if I didn't recognize the possibility of changes in response to this windfall. And I have made changes. I'm very good at not spending money. My primary expenditures had been rent, food and alcohol. And my food and alcohol expenditures had strict self-imposed limits.
I decided I can get rid of those limits as an exercise in letting go, because even those measures of self-discipline can become attachments, and nothing whatsoever should be attached to. I'm not going to go crazy and start spending like crazy on food and alcohol. That's not who I am, but it's good to let go of any attachment that I was being good by imposing those limitations on myself.
And I'm still going to be very wary of any material acquisition – accumulating stuff – but I'll allow for upgrading and replacing things I already have which will just lead to . . . preventing ennui. Just enough change in my life to keep my mind materially positive and not bogged down.
Still not sure where all this is going.
My cousin called a while ago, and she told me some things had happened regarding family stuff and to expect some extra money in my bank account. I said, "oh", and after asking a few questions about what happened and hearing the answers, I didn't think any further of it. Not really any of my business.
Then a few weeks later I went to get rent money and saw my account balance and said, "oh ... my", and understood why my cousin had emphasized, "... you can probably stay in Taiwan for a loong time".
Actually, it happened like this: I withdrew the rent money and got the receipt and glanced at the left side of the balance, expecting to see 3 numbers in front of a comma and all would've been fine. Instead I saw a single number in front of the comma and thought, "that could be bad", and left the bank wondering if my account had been hacked. Where did the money go? That would be a game changer. No more money, time for plan B. Well plan A, which perpetually seems to be plan ... Q.
Then out on the sidewalk I glanced at the receipt again and looked at the right side of the balance and saw there were 3 extra numbers that I hadn't noticed before. Eyes widen. Oh ... my. I couldn't even try to calculate how much it was in U.S., and when I got home and did the calculation, I thought, "I think I'm going to get that G-Shock altimeter watch that I'd been eying since my Timex died".
I don't consider it my money. I'm just the custodian until I can hot potato it back to my parents where it belongs, but I recognize my parents' intention here. It's not my money, but I can use it however I see fit. And somewhere along the line, they've also seen fit to stop pressuring me to do anything.
And I'm reminded about a realization I had a long time ago that money is not one of the issues I have to deal with in this lifetime. It's not my current karma. Maybe I've dealt with it in past lifetimes, maybe I'll have to deal with it in future lifetimes, but it's not an issue in this lifetime.
Which means it doesn't matter if I don't have money; no money, go to plan Q. Or R. It doesn't matter if I have money, I'm not going to get bent out of shape if I do have it. It doesn't change anything. Reality and existence issues are the same either way.
However, I'd be in denial if I didn't recognize the possibility of changes in response to this windfall. And I have made changes. I'm very good at not spending money. My primary expenditures had been rent, food and alcohol. And my food and alcohol expenditures had strict self-imposed limits.
I decided I can get rid of those limits as an exercise in letting go, because even those measures of self-discipline can become attachments, and nothing whatsoever should be attached to. I'm not going to go crazy and start spending like crazy on food and alcohol. That's not who I am, but it's good to let go of any attachment that I was being good by imposing those limitations on myself.
And I'm still going to be very wary of any material acquisition – accumulating stuff – but I'll allow for upgrading and replacing things I already have which will just lead to . . . preventing ennui. Just enough change in my life to keep my mind materially positive and not bogged down.
Still not sure where all this is going.
Monday, July 23, 2012
I have noticed that what I've been posting for the past year plus has been
a lot of long-winded, boring, highly-detailed, navel-gazing, rambling minutiae. Nothing clever, funny nor particularly interesting, I shouldn't wonder, which is what someone would want to be in a public forum such
as the internet.
But as I've said before, this isn't about readership. This blog is just my expression. There's no theme here; I just post about what sparks the neurons, whether it be movies, music, reads, Buddhism, suicide, spirituality, death, religion, mental health or whatever issue I want to spout on about (and believe me I'm leaving out a lot).
It occurs to me that this long-windedness has a lot to do with the isolation I've found myself in. I'm no hermit. I don't think there's any such thing as a "hermit with internet". But isolated I am. Recluse may be a better description of what I'm doing. A hermit is cut off, and that can't happen with internet. A recluse is withdrawn, and that I am.
If social interaction is a release outlet, then I don't have it, and the constant mind-stream of my thoughts is going on and on without outlet, and then when I decide to type something down, it just all trickles out in highly-detailed, rambling minutiae.
But this isolation also emphasizes the mind-stream of thoughts; that it's there. And that in Buddhist practice, that's an aspect that needs to be tackled with the idea of cutting it off. It relates to our ego-selves.
This mind-stream of thoughts is our ego-selves or, if not, is representative of it. And it's that attachment to our ego-selves that keeps us in cyclic samsaric existence, so theory goes.
I remember in early practice coming up with visualizations to break the mind-stream, or at least be mindful of it. Back then it was simply about stopping the mental chatter. Recognize it, and try to return to some mental quiet. Beyond that, I didn't know. But now, years and years later, there's much more urgency to tackling and cutting off the mind-stream once there's a realization of how it's connected to the ego-self.
I would go so far to say that it's a key step towards enlightenment. It's a breaking, smashing of the notion of subjectively conceived reality. And the hardest part of it is that we have this mental structure that perceives reality, and now it's a matter of using that mental structure to disassemble that same mental structure. Maybe that's why enlightenment is so friggin' hard.
But as I've said before, this isn't about readership. This blog is just my expression. There's no theme here; I just post about what sparks the neurons, whether it be movies, music, reads, Buddhism, suicide, spirituality, death, religion, mental health or whatever issue I want to spout on about (and believe me I'm leaving out a lot).
It occurs to me that this long-windedness has a lot to do with the isolation I've found myself in. I'm no hermit. I don't think there's any such thing as a "hermit with internet". But isolated I am. Recluse may be a better description of what I'm doing. A hermit is cut off, and that can't happen with internet. A recluse is withdrawn, and that I am.
If social interaction is a release outlet, then I don't have it, and the constant mind-stream of my thoughts is going on and on without outlet, and then when I decide to type something down, it just all trickles out in highly-detailed, rambling minutiae.
But this isolation also emphasizes the mind-stream of thoughts; that it's there. And that in Buddhist practice, that's an aspect that needs to be tackled with the idea of cutting it off. It relates to our ego-selves.
This mind-stream of thoughts is our ego-selves or, if not, is representative of it. And it's that attachment to our ego-selves that keeps us in cyclic samsaric existence, so theory goes.
I remember in early practice coming up with visualizations to break the mind-stream, or at least be mindful of it. Back then it was simply about stopping the mental chatter. Recognize it, and try to return to some mental quiet. Beyond that, I didn't know. But now, years and years later, there's much more urgency to tackling and cutting off the mind-stream once there's a realization of how it's connected to the ego-self.
I would go so far to say that it's a key step towards enlightenment. It's a breaking, smashing of the notion of subjectively conceived reality. And the hardest part of it is that we have this mental structure that perceives reality, and now it's a matter of using that mental structure to disassemble that same mental structure. Maybe that's why enlightenment is so friggin' hard.
Thursday, July 05, 2012
Hm. Korean media is doing it, so why don't I? The first half of 2012 is over and my vote for the top K-pop girl group release for the first six months is going to Sistar's "Alone":
Mind you, until this song, I haven't been a huge fan of Sistar. I've recognized their quality in previous releases, but there was always some element in their songs that prevented me from being completely hooked.
I got hooked to this song from the start, starting from the minor key and the sexy groove once it kicks in, but then the verse sections are quite good and the bridge and choruses are incredible.
Sistar are kinda known for being an overtly sexy group (and they've complained about that image, but then they should tell their choreographers not to make it a requirement for them to bend over like pin-ups in every friggin' video and dance routine they do), but I think in this song, sexiness is in the songwriting. The song is inherently sexy and whatever dressing or choreography is placed on it will be sexy. And they bend over like pin-ups quite a bit.
Runners up I would give to Miss A's January release "Touch" and Wonder Girls' fun June release "Like This" (both written and produced by Park Jin Young (JYP), on whom I have a man-crush because he seems to be some kind of genius to me). "Touch" has a great groove start to finish:
"Like This" is just a fun romp with fun choreography:
As for JYP himself, aside from being the CEO of the agency to which miss A and Wonder Girls belong and a producer and songwriter, he's also an artist and he did release a song in the first half of 2012 and promote it. And I must say that as few male pop artists there are that I'm willing to watch while they wiggle their bums, JYP has the moves and charisma that make me watch in a way that only Michael Jackson has otherwise compelled me. Seriously, he may not be physically attractive, but he has serious charisma:
I'll also give a nod to SNSD's first sub-unit, the 3-member TaeTiSeo's (Taeyeon-Tiffany-Seohyun) release "Twinkle". It's great funk/soul song written by an American composer/Korean lyricist. I think I'm not giving it the credit it deserves because expectations are always high for SNSD, and so when they meet those expectations, it feels par for the course even if it's a great track. The 3 singers, I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb saying, are among the four best (along with Jessica) in SNSD.
Finally, I note the debut of rookie group Spica in the first half of 2012 because it's simply the best and most mature debut of a girl group I've seen thus far in terms of quality. As a group, they may have some of the best vocals in the industry, up there in the range of Brown Eyed Girls.
I think the idea behind the group was to have good vocals, and the main vocalist, I gather, is a professional singer who has been recording the guide vocals for producers for years (after hearing her demonstrate some songs by other groups she provided the guides for, I'm convinced the producers kept it in on many of the chorus parts of the final mixes). Also, from what I can tell, they're the only group I've seen handle harmonies live. With other groups, I've rarely been convinced harmonies were being sung live.
Mind you, until this song, I haven't been a huge fan of Sistar. I've recognized their quality in previous releases, but there was always some element in their songs that prevented me from being completely hooked.
I got hooked to this song from the start, starting from the minor key and the sexy groove once it kicks in, but then the verse sections are quite good and the bridge and choruses are incredible.
Sistar are kinda known for being an overtly sexy group (and they've complained about that image, but then they should tell their choreographers not to make it a requirement for them to bend over like pin-ups in every friggin' video and dance routine they do), but I think in this song, sexiness is in the songwriting. The song is inherently sexy and whatever dressing or choreography is placed on it will be sexy. And they bend over like pin-ups quite a bit.
Runners up I would give to Miss A's January release "Touch" and Wonder Girls' fun June release "Like This" (both written and produced by Park Jin Young (JYP), on whom I have a man-crush because he seems to be some kind of genius to me). "Touch" has a great groove start to finish:
"Like This" is just a fun romp with fun choreography:
As for JYP himself, aside from being the CEO of the agency to which miss A and Wonder Girls belong and a producer and songwriter, he's also an artist and he did release a song in the first half of 2012 and promote it. And I must say that as few male pop artists there are that I'm willing to watch while they wiggle their bums, JYP has the moves and charisma that make me watch in a way that only Michael Jackson has otherwise compelled me. Seriously, he may not be physically attractive, but he has serious charisma:
I'll also give a nod to SNSD's first sub-unit, the 3-member TaeTiSeo's (Taeyeon-Tiffany-Seohyun) release "Twinkle". It's great funk/soul song written by an American composer/Korean lyricist. I think I'm not giving it the credit it deserves because expectations are always high for SNSD, and so when they meet those expectations, it feels par for the course even if it's a great track. The 3 singers, I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb saying, are among the four best (along with Jessica) in SNSD.
Finally, I note the debut of rookie group Spica in the first half of 2012 because it's simply the best and most mature debut of a girl group I've seen thus far in terms of quality. As a group, they may have some of the best vocals in the industry, up there in the range of Brown Eyed Girls.
I think the idea behind the group was to have good vocals, and the main vocalist, I gather, is a professional singer who has been recording the guide vocals for producers for years (after hearing her demonstrate some songs by other groups she provided the guides for, I'm convinced the producers kept it in on many of the chorus parts of the final mixes). Also, from what I can tell, they're the only group I've seen handle harmonies live. With other groups, I've rarely been convinced harmonies were being sung live.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Paul (U.S./UK, 2011)
Caught this movie midway through on Cinemax and was immediately hooked, and fortunately it was broadcast again the next day when I watched it in full.
It's a fun sci-fi/geek romp about two nerds from England who travel to the U.S. on holiday to attend Comicon in San Diego and proceed on a geek road trip of "alien hotspots" in the American Southwest. On the way, they meet up with the title character Paul, who has escaped from Area 51 and is trying to reach a rendezvous point to be taken back to his home . . . um, planet.
It's definitely not for everyone, there's a certain British-ness to the humour, exposure to which helps get the movie. The movie might likely appeal to sci-fi geeks, and I'm not hardcore, but I have to admit it's in my background, and that certainly aided in my appreciation.
The movie is replete with sci-fi and cultural references, the geekiness of which encourages people to just go along with the ride and ignore the ridiculousness of the scenario and appreciate that it's silliness that is very well done.
In my own geekiness, I'm surprised in all the noted references online that the movie makes, I haven't found mention that Paul's healing power is taken directly from the Star Trek Original Series episode "The Empath", nor Paul's twice quoteth Pearl Jam nod, "It's evolution, baby" (one for the rockers maybe).
And to split hairs about cultural references, there's a difference between nods or homage in the script to cultural references and overt mention of cultural references that are within the context of the movie. So wearing an "Empire Strikes Back" shirt is not a cultural reference because it fits in with the character in the context of the movie. Anything at Comicon is not a cultural reference because those are what you would expect to see in the context of Comicon.
Characters quoting Han Solo or Lt. Ripley lines, or the "Star Wars" cantina music playing at the bar (online sources keep referring to that movie as "Episode IV: A New Hope", to which I say fuck that, the movie was "Star Wars". Period. And fuck George Lucas fucking with his own legacy) are cultural references because those references are outside of the context of the film. Those can be considered homage to where this film comes from.
I loved this movie, but it is for sci-fi geeks who would get the humor and have fun with the many references. I'll give it a fresh 8 out of 10 tomato rating. No higher because it's light, silly fare, but excellent and intelligent in the light, silly fare genre.
Monday, June 25, 2012
My latest compelling read at the library was Mackenzie Phillips' memoir High on Arrival.
In my youth, there was a hit sitcom in the U.S. I watched called "One Day at a Time". Mackenzie Phillips was a star on the show along with doe-eyed babe extraordinaire Valerie Bertinelli. But as adorable as Bertinelli was, Mackenzie had a charisma that had star quality written all over it.
She was also one of the daughters of "Papa" John Phillips of the 60s group "The Mamas & Papas". And as a daughter of a hedonistic, megalomaniacal rock star (read: bad parent), and as the title of the book suggests, Mackenzie ended up a drug addict and a junkie.
She also reveals in the book that she was a victim of incest, which apparently became the media lightning bolt for the book. Everyone immediately focused on the incest and the monster that John Phillips may have been.
Mackenzie doesn't paint her father as a monster and defends him to the end (she took care to keep the secret until after his death), but an objective look at his behavior, there is no other word for him than 'monster'. Not evil, mind you. Hedonistic and mega-selfish and self-absorbed, which to some may add up to 'evil' when applied to parenthood, but otherwise it's hard to find a description of evil in there, I opine.
I understand why there was so much attention on the incest, it's media sensational. But I don't think her memoir is defined by the incest issue. Mackenzie, herself, is certainly more than the incest, and I think what was compelling about her story to me, was a similarity to other books I've been attracted to and reading recently, which is that hers was a life of . . . difficulty.
I admit I had difficulty sympathizing with her main difficulty, drug addiction, and the difficulty she caused for people around her because of her addiction. It is hard for non-professionals to see drug addiction as a sickness that needs to be treated. Especially when the addict is a star and the money just flows in because of celebrity status.
Drug addicts treat people with impunity just to feel good for themselves, and when their behavior starts hurting people around them, it's hard to understand why they can't take responsibility for themselves, recognize the harm they're causing, and stop taking drugs. It's the ultimate in selfishness, that I suppose many people, in a similar vein, can easily equate with suicides.
I'm not quite sure why I found her story so compelling. Her difficulties aren't something I can relate to. Although the same can be said for the other reads I've found compelling.
I'm not an addict. I arguably abuse alcohol, but it's not an addiction. It's intentional, it has an aim and I monitor the effects. And it affects no one. Is there anyone who can be asked whether I'm an alcoholic and they would answer, "yes"? Absolutely not. Although there are people, I shouldn't wonder, who if told I was, in fact, an alcoholic would respond that they kinda suspected.
But alcohol is still a substance, and perhaps that is what I may perceive to share with Mackenzie or drug addicts. That fucking with reality. The way alcohol fucks with my reality is part of my challenge to reality (which likely has nothing to do with drug addicts' motivations).
I dunno. I relate to Mackenzie's memoir, but I'm not an addict. Alice Sebold's autobiographical "Lucky" spoke of post-traumatic stress disorder, and I related to it, but I can't identify any trauma in my current lifetime to be stressed out about post facto to become a disorder.
And then there are all those high-altitude climbing nuts on Mt. Everest and K2, participating in an activity which I describe as inherently suicidal, but still relate to on some incomprehensible level. It all means something, yo.
In my youth, there was a hit sitcom in the U.S. I watched called "One Day at a Time". Mackenzie Phillips was a star on the show along with doe-eyed babe extraordinaire Valerie Bertinelli. But as adorable as Bertinelli was, Mackenzie had a charisma that had star quality written all over it.
She was also one of the daughters of "Papa" John Phillips of the 60s group "The Mamas & Papas". And as a daughter of a hedonistic, megalomaniacal rock star (read: bad parent), and as the title of the book suggests, Mackenzie ended up a drug addict and a junkie.
She also reveals in the book that she was a victim of incest, which apparently became the media lightning bolt for the book. Everyone immediately focused on the incest and the monster that John Phillips may have been.
Mackenzie doesn't paint her father as a monster and defends him to the end (she took care to keep the secret until after his death), but an objective look at his behavior, there is no other word for him than 'monster'. Not evil, mind you. Hedonistic and mega-selfish and self-absorbed, which to some may add up to 'evil' when applied to parenthood, but otherwise it's hard to find a description of evil in there, I opine.
I understand why there was so much attention on the incest, it's media sensational. But I don't think her memoir is defined by the incest issue. Mackenzie, herself, is certainly more than the incest, and I think what was compelling about her story to me, was a similarity to other books I've been attracted to and reading recently, which is that hers was a life of . . . difficulty.
I admit I had difficulty sympathizing with her main difficulty, drug addiction, and the difficulty she caused for people around her because of her addiction. It is hard for non-professionals to see drug addiction as a sickness that needs to be treated. Especially when the addict is a star and the money just flows in because of celebrity status.
Drug addicts treat people with impunity just to feel good for themselves, and when their behavior starts hurting people around them, it's hard to understand why they can't take responsibility for themselves, recognize the harm they're causing, and stop taking drugs. It's the ultimate in selfishness, that I suppose many people, in a similar vein, can easily equate with suicides.
I'm not quite sure why I found her story so compelling. Her difficulties aren't something I can relate to. Although the same can be said for the other reads I've found compelling.
I'm not an addict. I arguably abuse alcohol, but it's not an addiction. It's intentional, it has an aim and I monitor the effects. And it affects no one. Is there anyone who can be asked whether I'm an alcoholic and they would answer, "yes"? Absolutely not. Although there are people, I shouldn't wonder, who if told I was, in fact, an alcoholic would respond that they kinda suspected.
But alcohol is still a substance, and perhaps that is what I may perceive to share with Mackenzie or drug addicts. That fucking with reality. The way alcohol fucks with my reality is part of my challenge to reality (which likely has nothing to do with drug addicts' motivations).
I dunno. I relate to Mackenzie's memoir, but I'm not an addict. Alice Sebold's autobiographical "Lucky" spoke of post-traumatic stress disorder, and I related to it, but I can't identify any trauma in my current lifetime to be stressed out about post facto to become a disorder.
And then there are all those high-altitude climbing nuts on Mt. Everest and K2, participating in an activity which I describe as inherently suicidal, but still relate to on some incomprehensible level. It all means something, yo.
WordsCharactersReading time
WordsCharactersReading time
Tuesday, June 05, 2012
Future Life Resonances: Christianity
I grew up in the U.S., a Christian country, but nothing about Christianity ever rang true to me. As a youth, I recall being exposed to Sunday school. I even have an extant copy of the New Testament from a completely forgotten Sunday school teacher who apparently had taken to me. Touching, as she wrote a message to me in it, but it's just an anomaly to me now.
Back then, there was absolutely nothing known about the teachings of Jesus other than what was contained in the canon, promulgated by the Roman Empire. Shall I emphasize that point? Promulgated by the Roman Empire.
Since then, scholarship on the so-called "Gnostic Gospels" has come a long way, along with the discovery and multiple translations and analyses of the "Gospel of Judas". I actually didn't even know how vilified the Judas character was in the Roman/Pauline Christian canon that is dominant today.
So back to future life resonances. It did occur to me that being reincarnated in South Korea might mean being born into a Christian household. It isn't a major concern. I do believe that once firmly on the path, we will always find our way back to the path in whatever lifetime or circumstance.
Then I realize how much I've been interested in and reading about the Gnostic Gospels recently. I think I even mentioned that if those alternative gospels had been available and taught, I might not have been so turned-off by Christianity. They make sense in terms of divine insight, rather than the controlling brain-washing of canonical Christianity with its superficial morality.
I'm inclined to take this interest in this other side of Christianity that has been suppressed for 1700 years as also possibly a future life resonance. Maybe I'll be born in South Korea, maybe I'll be born into a Buddhist household, maybe a Christian household, maybe like in this life a non-religious household. But no matter, I think I'll still continue on this path, and if I'm born in a Christian household, I'll be karmically/subconsciously primed against the current Christian canon.
If karma really does have force, I'll still question canonical Christian hegemony even if surrounded by it, but now that the gnostic teachings and scholarship on them are available and being spread, I'm not at all concerned that I can still find my way onto the path, even if surrounded by Christianity.
I mentioned before how disappointed I was in reading Elaine Pagel and Karen King's conclusion in their otherwise incredible scholarship in their book "Reading Judas". They opined that what comprises the Christian canon needn't be revisited to include the recent findings in the gnostic gospels because of the centuries of guidance the canon has provided, ignoring the centuries of harm, destruction and suffering that has happened in the name of the canon.
And they are conveniently willing to ignore teachings of truth, or more accurately the ability of people to determine what is truth when presented with a full spectrum of divergent teachings. I don't necessarily condemn them for their opinion, but I definitely don't agree with it.
Aside from it being their opinion, it is also a reality that 1700 years of brain-washing is not easily erased. Current Christians versed in the canon are deeply convicted in their belief that anything outside of what was decided by a council (Nicene) appointed by a Roman emperor (Constantine – who might as well be George W. Bush as far as I'm concerned) as gospel is heresy.
"Revisiting the canon" is simply not an acceptable option according to the church and unthinkable to the vast majority of Christians. It's not unlike one physics professor I had in college who cut me off when I mentioned "faster than the speed of light", and wouldn't even consider my question if that was the basis of it. Scientific canon states nothing in the classical physical universe can go faster than the speed of light. It's still cosmic law, but physicists today are more open-minded and willing to consider thought experiments whereby the speed of light isn't the cosmic speed limit.
No, scholarship into the other teachings of Jesus that are being uncovered are likely to remain in the realm of academic scholarship, and not likely to be considered as part of the Christian faith anytime soon, whether or not it was, in fact, an aspect of what Jesus taught, which I think it was. While what modern Christians believe for most part has little to zero to do with what Jesus taught. It is what it is, I have no problem with their faith and belief and how they pursue it, but it's simply not what Jesus taught. They changed it and should own up to it, even if it means they made truth out of fairy dust.
Anyone who takes such scholarship seriously would be, like author and scholar Bart Ehrman, who was a Bible thumping evangelist in his youth, forced out of the church, voluntarily or not. He now considers himself an agnostic but writes in a solely Christian context, and I think that's kind of too bad. Reading the Gnostic Gospels, even I'm convinced that Jesus was a big deal with a radical spiritual message in his time.
If punk band Mission of Burma was onto something when they wrote "The Roman Empire never died/It just became the Catholic Church", then the Christian canon is not about the truth or the true teachings of Jesus, but about control and domination. And 1700 years of control and domination is a powerful thing. Powerful . . . "karma".
Actually, all I wanted to say in this post is that my recent exposure to so many things related to the so-called Gnostic Gospels, the alternate teachings of Jesus regarding true divinity (including these two documentaries: The Gospel of Judas and The Lost Gospels), might also be what I term "future life resonances", similar to geekiness about Korea.
Back then, there was absolutely nothing known about the teachings of Jesus other than what was contained in the canon, promulgated by the Roman Empire. Shall I emphasize that point? Promulgated by the Roman Empire.
Since then, scholarship on the so-called "Gnostic Gospels" has come a long way, along with the discovery and multiple translations and analyses of the "Gospel of Judas". I actually didn't even know how vilified the Judas character was in the Roman/Pauline Christian canon that is dominant today.
So back to future life resonances. It did occur to me that being reincarnated in South Korea might mean being born into a Christian household. It isn't a major concern. I do believe that once firmly on the path, we will always find our way back to the path in whatever lifetime or circumstance.
Then I realize how much I've been interested in and reading about the Gnostic Gospels recently. I think I even mentioned that if those alternative gospels had been available and taught, I might not have been so turned-off by Christianity. They make sense in terms of divine insight, rather than the controlling brain-washing of canonical Christianity with its superficial morality.
I'm inclined to take this interest in this other side of Christianity that has been suppressed for 1700 years as also possibly a future life resonance. Maybe I'll be born in South Korea, maybe I'll be born into a Buddhist household, maybe a Christian household, maybe like in this life a non-religious household. But no matter, I think I'll still continue on this path, and if I'm born in a Christian household, I'll be karmically/subconsciously primed against the current Christian canon.
If karma really does have force, I'll still question canonical Christian hegemony even if surrounded by it, but now that the gnostic teachings and scholarship on them are available and being spread, I'm not at all concerned that I can still find my way onto the path, even if surrounded by Christianity.
I mentioned before how disappointed I was in reading Elaine Pagel and Karen King's conclusion in their otherwise incredible scholarship in their book "Reading Judas". They opined that what comprises the Christian canon needn't be revisited to include the recent findings in the gnostic gospels because of the centuries of guidance the canon has provided, ignoring the centuries of harm, destruction and suffering that has happened in the name of the canon.
And they are conveniently willing to ignore teachings of truth, or more accurately the ability of people to determine what is truth when presented with a full spectrum of divergent teachings. I don't necessarily condemn them for their opinion, but I definitely don't agree with it.
Aside from it being their opinion, it is also a reality that 1700 years of brain-washing is not easily erased. Current Christians versed in the canon are deeply convicted in their belief that anything outside of what was decided by a council (Nicene) appointed by a Roman emperor (Constantine – who might as well be George W. Bush as far as I'm concerned) as gospel is heresy.
"Revisiting the canon" is simply not an acceptable option according to the church and unthinkable to the vast majority of Christians. It's not unlike one physics professor I had in college who cut me off when I mentioned "faster than the speed of light", and wouldn't even consider my question if that was the basis of it. Scientific canon states nothing in the classical physical universe can go faster than the speed of light. It's still cosmic law, but physicists today are more open-minded and willing to consider thought experiments whereby the speed of light isn't the cosmic speed limit.
No, scholarship into the other teachings of Jesus that are being uncovered are likely to remain in the realm of academic scholarship, and not likely to be considered as part of the Christian faith anytime soon, whether or not it was, in fact, an aspect of what Jesus taught, which I think it was. While what modern Christians believe for most part has little to zero to do with what Jesus taught. It is what it is, I have no problem with their faith and belief and how they pursue it, but it's simply not what Jesus taught. They changed it and should own up to it, even if it means they made truth out of fairy dust.
Anyone who takes such scholarship seriously would be, like author and scholar Bart Ehrman, who was a Bible thumping evangelist in his youth, forced out of the church, voluntarily or not. He now considers himself an agnostic but writes in a solely Christian context, and I think that's kind of too bad. Reading the Gnostic Gospels, even I'm convinced that Jesus was a big deal with a radical spiritual message in his time.
If punk band Mission of Burma was onto something when they wrote "The Roman Empire never died/It just became the Catholic Church", then the Christian canon is not about the truth or the true teachings of Jesus, but about control and domination. And 1700 years of control and domination is a powerful thing. Powerful . . . "karma".
Actually, all I wanted to say in this post is that my recent exposure to so many things related to the so-called Gnostic Gospels, the alternate teachings of Jesus regarding true divinity (including these two documentaries: The Gospel of Judas and The Lost Gospels), might also be what I term "future life resonances", similar to geekiness about Korea.
WordsCharactersReading time
Saturday, June 02, 2012
Nothing about Korea resonated until I came to Taiwan in 2006 and met classmate Hyun Ae who
introduced me to K-pop after I asked her to make me a mix CD of music
she liked. I'd been swapping mix CDs with people for years and gotten into bands and music as a result, but nothing compares to the impact and change K-pop brought. And it wasn't necessarily about that mix CD. Hyun Ae's CD may not have even been the start. I liked songs off that CD and most of it went into my iTunes collection, but it didn't make me a dedicated K-pop fan. It was just good music I was introduced to.
YouTube also started becoming big in 2006 and I credit YouTube for helping launch the second Hallyu wave, which otherwise might have been contained in South Korea without the international exposure YouTube brought. Trying to reconstruct my personal history of K-pop, I recall an early YouTube video of a karaoke competition variety show called Korean Madness catching my attention. Aside from those teenage high school students being hilarious and full of personality (Hyun Ae informed me later that the show was a competition and that those girls ultimately won), I ended up liking the song (the original is played at the end of the clip and, yes, I have it in my collection now) as well as the other songs they sang in the course of the competition. Those girls had good taste.
The next step was the Wonder Girls "Tell Me" dance phenomena. Wonder Girls debuted in 2007 and their dance for "Tell Me" went viral with high school students, flight attendants, military personal, traffic police, etc. etc. uploading themselves doing the Tell Me choreography. I watched a lot of those, starting with one high school student, and got into the song. Isolating the backing track, it's quite groovy and subtle, although I'm sure I didn't notice how cool it was right away.
Hyun Ae and I had fallen out of touch by the time I saw the video for Girls' Generation's (SNSD) Gee (2009) on MTV probably in 2010. That was when it took off. Initially, part of me was practically offended by what was on my TV screen, likening it to awful, superficial, garish, candy J-pop. What the hell is this crap? the snob in me sneered, reaching for the remote to change the channel, and I pointed the remote at the TV and . . . didn't. Not only did I stand there with the remote pointing at the TV for the rest of the song, afterwards I immediately went online to look them up.
So much of that video and song should have had me cringing. Even now I don't know what attracted me more to the video against what should have repulsed me. I should've considered it god awful and I wouldn't blame anyone clicking that link thinking it is god awful. But it's going to be a classic K-pop song if it isn't already and I agree with that. It wasn't pivotal only to me. SNSD had debuted in 2007 to much acclaim domestically in South Korea, but it was "Gee" that made them famous throughout Asia and led to a string of hits that made them the reigning queens of K-pop all through Asia.
Very soon after that, Invincible Youth started airing in Taiwan with two members of Girls' Generation (Sunny and Yuri) cast and I watched religiously even though it only had Chinese subtitles. The other cast members introduced me to other girl groups leading the second Hallyu wave (T-ara, 4minute, Brown Eyed Girls, Secret and Kara). K-pop became an obsession since 2010. No explanation except that it's a future life resonance. It seems I've determined that my next locale of rebirth will be South Korea and all this is an indication of it.
YouTube also started becoming big in 2006 and I credit YouTube for helping launch the second Hallyu wave, which otherwise might have been contained in South Korea without the international exposure YouTube brought. Trying to reconstruct my personal history of K-pop, I recall an early YouTube video of a karaoke competition variety show called Korean Madness catching my attention. Aside from those teenage high school students being hilarious and full of personality (Hyun Ae informed me later that the show was a competition and that those girls ultimately won), I ended up liking the song (the original is played at the end of the clip and, yes, I have it in my collection now) as well as the other songs they sang in the course of the competition. Those girls had good taste.
The next step was the Wonder Girls "Tell Me" dance phenomena. Wonder Girls debuted in 2007 and their dance for "Tell Me" went viral with high school students, flight attendants, military personal, traffic police, etc. etc. uploading themselves doing the Tell Me choreography. I watched a lot of those, starting with one high school student, and got into the song. Isolating the backing track, it's quite groovy and subtle, although I'm sure I didn't notice how cool it was right away.
Hyun Ae and I had fallen out of touch by the time I saw the video for Girls' Generation's (SNSD) Gee (2009) on MTV probably in 2010. That was when it took off. Initially, part of me was practically offended by what was on my TV screen, likening it to awful, superficial, garish, candy J-pop. What the hell is this crap? the snob in me sneered, reaching for the remote to change the channel, and I pointed the remote at the TV and . . . didn't. Not only did I stand there with the remote pointing at the TV for the rest of the song, afterwards I immediately went online to look them up.
So much of that video and song should have had me cringing. Even now I don't know what attracted me more to the video against what should have repulsed me. I should've considered it god awful and I wouldn't blame anyone clicking that link thinking it is god awful. But it's going to be a classic K-pop song if it isn't already and I agree with that. It wasn't pivotal only to me. SNSD had debuted in 2007 to much acclaim domestically in South Korea, but it was "Gee" that made them famous throughout Asia and led to a string of hits that made them the reigning queens of K-pop all through Asia.
Very soon after that, Invincible Youth started airing in Taiwan with two members of Girls' Generation (Sunny and Yuri) cast and I watched religiously even though it only had Chinese subtitles. The other cast members introduced me to other girl groups leading the second Hallyu wave (T-ara, 4minute, Brown Eyed Girls, Secret and Kara). K-pop became an obsession since 2010. No explanation except that it's a future life resonance. It seems I've determined that my next locale of rebirth will be South Korea and all this is an indication of it.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Future Life Resonances
So this blog has a label "future life resonances". To recap, "future life resonances" is a spin-off of "past life resonances", whereby under some flaky theory of reincarnation, we might suspect that aspects of our current lives and beings are the results, or resonances, of past lives by force of karma.
Karma, I very unscientifically propose, being an aspect of a natural energy substrate of the universe that is as unknown as the scientifically proposed dark energy. The form this natural energy substrate has taken with biological beings on this planet may be what we think of as consciousness or awareness. It's what enables all living beings to interact with our environment, from bacteria to human beings.
In the cycle of death and rebirth as envisioned by people who believe in reincarnation, karmic impressions are able to be transferred from one lifetime to future lifetimes. It's not scientifically testable. It is attested to by masters of various esoteric traditions. For laypeople, it's only intuitive in the most flaky way possible. "Intuitive in the most flaky way possible" is maybe a proper definition of "faith".
But whereas past life resonances look at our current lives and habits to think about what we might have been or what issues we might have dealt with in previous lives, future life resonances look at our current lives to imagine or project what or where we might be reincarnated in future lives.
Oh, and as far as I know, it's my creation. I didn't read or hear about it from anyone else, and it only occurred to me in relation to this Korea thing.
My implication is that my inexplicable attraction to South Korea so late in this life, and assuming this is late in my life (anyway it's later in my life), may be an indication that I'm angling towards a rebirth in South Korea, whether by choice or by force of karma.
I've had plenty of exposure to South Korean culture and people before, but never until now did it become a near obsessive focus. As early as college I had a Korean roommate for a semester, Myung Soo, and looking back at the people from whom I learned the most from college, he was one of them.
He had come to the U.S. when he was about 10 years old. He was very patriotic and spearheaded a Korean student movement to get Korea included in Oberlin's East Asian Studies department, which at the time only included Japan and China (I know, wtf?).
To the still marginal extent Korean studies are now included at Oberlin is because of his efforts and the stink that he raised. I know because I was at those meetings (drunk, if I remember correctly) with the all-white East Asian Studies faculty (I know, wtf?!) who tried to defend their hegemony.
How can you have an "East Asian" Studies department and not include Korea? Look at a map! They argued that most people were only interested in Japan and China, but that was probably more an expression that they, the all-white fetishizing faculty, were only interested in Japan and China. In the end, I think they realized they had to make more of an effort to promote Korean studies as well.
He was the kind of person who could change people's lives and he did. And he transformed himself, too. Initially, I was very unimpressed by him. He was very materialistic and superficial when I first met him, and I witnessed his changes over the years and after college he went back to L.A. and became a labor organizer. Far more impressive than anything I've done since college.
And, like all Koreans I've met, he was Christian. He actually turned my prejudice against Christianity around to realize all Christians weren't like mainstream white Americans, who I found to be frightening, hypocritical, racist bigots, spewing words of intolerance, hate and evil in God's name, while believing themselves to be righteous and godly.
My exposure to Christians had me thinking that it made sense to me that if Satan were to wage war against God, the most effective strategy would be to subvert and assume the word of God to spread evil, and Christianity was the very language of hate, intolerance and evil, while convincing the weak minded they were agents of God and good.
Myung Soo felled me on my ass just by saying, "Do you think I'm like that?". I hadn't thought of him as Christian, but he forced me to and to tear down that blanket view of Christians.
Still, nothing in my experience with him stirred any interest in Korea or Korean culture. For me at that time, it was all about Japan, a possible past life resonance. Aside from Myung Soo, I continued to have exposure to Korean culture and nothing about Korea resonated.
I met plenty of Korean/Korean Americans after moving to the Bay Area. Among them, I had a Korean American roommate who had graduated from Brown University and knew my brother ("You're Rob Li's brother?!", she said) and nothing Korean was inspired. I had a Korean co-worker who, when she called me inter-office, I would answer the phone in Korean (learned that from Myung Soo), and she swore my pronunciation was perfect.
Nothing until I came to Taiwan in 2006 and had a Korean classmate who introduced me to K-pop after I asked her to make me a mix CD of music she liked.
Karma, I very unscientifically propose, being an aspect of a natural energy substrate of the universe that is as unknown as the scientifically proposed dark energy. The form this natural energy substrate has taken with biological beings on this planet may be what we think of as consciousness or awareness. It's what enables all living beings to interact with our environment, from bacteria to human beings.
In the cycle of death and rebirth as envisioned by people who believe in reincarnation, karmic impressions are able to be transferred from one lifetime to future lifetimes. It's not scientifically testable. It is attested to by masters of various esoteric traditions. For laypeople, it's only intuitive in the most flaky way possible. "Intuitive in the most flaky way possible" is maybe a proper definition of "faith".
But whereas past life resonances look at our current lives and habits to think about what we might have been or what issues we might have dealt with in previous lives, future life resonances look at our current lives to imagine or project what or where we might be reincarnated in future lives.
Oh, and as far as I know, it's my creation. I didn't read or hear about it from anyone else, and it only occurred to me in relation to this Korea thing.
My implication is that my inexplicable attraction to South Korea so late in this life, and assuming this is late in my life (anyway it's later in my life), may be an indication that I'm angling towards a rebirth in South Korea, whether by choice or by force of karma.
I've had plenty of exposure to South Korean culture and people before, but never until now did it become a near obsessive focus. As early as college I had a Korean roommate for a semester, Myung Soo, and looking back at the people from whom I learned the most from college, he was one of them.
He had come to the U.S. when he was about 10 years old. He was very patriotic and spearheaded a Korean student movement to get Korea included in Oberlin's East Asian Studies department, which at the time only included Japan and China (I know, wtf?).
To the still marginal extent Korean studies are now included at Oberlin is because of his efforts and the stink that he raised. I know because I was at those meetings (drunk, if I remember correctly) with the all-white East Asian Studies faculty (I know, wtf?!) who tried to defend their hegemony.
How can you have an "East Asian" Studies department and not include Korea? Look at a map! They argued that most people were only interested in Japan and China, but that was probably more an expression that they, the all-white fetishizing faculty, were only interested in Japan and China. In the end, I think they realized they had to make more of an effort to promote Korean studies as well.
He was the kind of person who could change people's lives and he did. And he transformed himself, too. Initially, I was very unimpressed by him. He was very materialistic and superficial when I first met him, and I witnessed his changes over the years and after college he went back to L.A. and became a labor organizer. Far more impressive than anything I've done since college.
And, like all Koreans I've met, he was Christian. He actually turned my prejudice against Christianity around to realize all Christians weren't like mainstream white Americans, who I found to be frightening, hypocritical, racist bigots, spewing words of intolerance, hate and evil in God's name, while believing themselves to be righteous and godly.
My exposure to Christians had me thinking that it made sense to me that if Satan were to wage war against God, the most effective strategy would be to subvert and assume the word of God to spread evil, and Christianity was the very language of hate, intolerance and evil, while convincing the weak minded they were agents of God and good.
Myung Soo felled me on my ass just by saying, "Do you think I'm like that?". I hadn't thought of him as Christian, but he forced me to and to tear down that blanket view of Christians.
Still, nothing in my experience with him stirred any interest in Korea or Korean culture. For me at that time, it was all about Japan, a possible past life resonance. Aside from Myung Soo, I continued to have exposure to Korean culture and nothing about Korea resonated.
I met plenty of Korean/Korean Americans after moving to the Bay Area. Among them, I had a Korean American roommate who had graduated from Brown University and knew my brother ("You're Rob Li's brother?!", she said) and nothing Korean was inspired. I had a Korean co-worker who, when she called me inter-office, I would answer the phone in Korean (learned that from Myung Soo), and she swore my pronunciation was perfect.
Nothing until I came to Taiwan in 2006 and had a Korean classmate who introduced me to K-pop after I asked her to make me a mix CD of music she liked.
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