Back.

It's been a while. Or at least it feels like it has been for me, anyway.

It's odd because I don't usually write here on any kind of pre-planned schedule so much as I just write when I find an occasion where I feel like it, which I've somehow managed to keep up over the course of the past 7 years. Perhaps longer if you include the old livejournal that I haven't looked at for a long time. I guess it's become sort of an ingrained habit by now to just write like this every so often, except for when I run into a dry spell like the last couple of months. I'll admit it, Pokemon really does a number on one's introspective life. But enough of that.

So in addition to this blog, I also keep a physical journal that I write in semi-regularly, although the character of the writing there is fairly different from what I have on here. For one thing, I'm used to going back and re-reading the posts I have on here, or perhaps more accurately scrutinizing what I've written and occasionally revising when I feel nitpicky about something, whereas with my journal I rarely ever go back and re-read what I've written. The difference being, I write posts here that I actually would enjoy reading later on, whereas what I write in my journal is generally spur of the moment and pure and unfiltered, without the option of revising or rewriting anything. (partly because doing so with a pen on paper is messy- but revising a journal kinda defeats the point of it being physical anyway.)

I actually didn't start out with this habit initially like I did with blogging- it sort of came about purely by chance, after a birthday gift one year; probably the best present I ever got (second place goes to the half-folding paper towels I got in the dorms for secret santa, hehe). I never saw myself as much of a journaler then, but somehow managed to start a routine where I now do it whenever I'm in a church setting with worship music playing. Something about the atmosphere just makes me more prone or open to doing it there and then- at the expense of not singing- and I often don't even feel like I'm consciously controlling what I'm writing... but I guess the whole mind-to-paper process is kind of a mystery to me anyway.

I don't usually like what I've written in the end, though. When I look down at it, I see my flaws at their worst- whatever it is I've been willing to put down anyway, because there are some things I still won't name even on paper- and the rambling, scattered, incoherent thoughts of a lowly, insecure person. Because ultimately I crave having the self-image of someone who is sophisticated in thought, in reasoning, and purpose, and my journal shows me to be none of these. I'm prone to seeing the same kinds of flaws in my words and thoughts that I find myself criticizing other people for internally (also in my thoughts) on a regular basis: flaws of ignorance, pride, and simple mindedness. And then I realize how full of myself I really am in the midst of all this self-criticism, as if possessing the sophistication of words will make me that much better of a person.

I haven't really written that much in it either. Just enough to get by every couple of weeks or so, which amounts to maybe 1.15 completed journals in the span of 5 years, and I just guesstimated there. That isn't very much considering other people I know of who can fill up multiple Moleskines or Piccadillys whatever brand it is they buy in a year (I'm using Ecosystem... not that this is an ad for them or anything...).

It occurred to me this morning that I should probably start journaling more often for my own sake- because the span of three-five worship songs in the rushed setting of a church service isn't enough time for me to get at whatever it is I need to get at when I'm writing, and besides my inner life has been largely on the decline since I started working. Too often lately I find myself thinking that I'm only getting by right now because I'm straight up ignoring my personal issues in my head, blithely preoccupying myself with being busy and focusing on the next big distraction of the week.

(which happened to be a season's worth of Doctor Who this weekend. it's been growing on me ever since I started watching the first (modern) season/series more than a year ago, and I think I finally hit that I'm-obsessed-I-need-to-watch-more sweet spot late in the second season.)

There is only so much time in the world. Only so much time to write, to work, to play, to travel, to live. And if I keep on going as I have been lately, living a life unobserved, then I will probably get to a point where I'm about to die and just realize, that's it? What have I really been doing with my life all this time? Whatever happened to dreaming of greater things and making them happen?

In all honesty the situation hasn't changed much from the thoughts I had after that retreat back in August. Just an additional few months of distractions to follow, some adventures made, things looked forward to that have passed. But I realized after the past few weeks, that too much fun and side-leisure has its downsides. I find myself missing the sense of accomplishment that came when I actually got work done that I felt invested in (and I mean both in and outside of work... if that makes sense), and felt productive in general.

In due time I may have other meaningful subjects to write about, but it depends on when I can get my inner life up to snuff. Time to wake up and starting moving around, for once. Or I guess in my case, sleep now and seize the day. In that order.

restless

I've had several posts in the works this past month or so, but none of them have really come to fruition. I haven't really been a mood for posting anything I write lately, mainly because perhaps there isn't much more to really write about that I haven't written before. It follows along with what I tend to say nowadays when people ask me about work: "work is work." And most of my time spent outside of work now is spent preoccupying myself with something or the other while skirting over whatever it is I intend to write about now. Which I don't really know yet, other than the fact that I can't sleep right now and don't really have the willpower to do anything else.

I don't remember if I mentioned it here before, but earlier this year I considered the possibility of seeing a therapist. Partly just cause it's nice to be able to talk about your problems for once without having to worry about infringing on someone else's time (since... that's what a therapist's job is, anyway), and partly because maybe I just really needed to be able to fully talk to someone for once. I never acted on that impulse, but I'm considering it again. I think going on for too long without addressing what your problems actually are is unhealthy and life-draining in the long run, or at least that's how it's been from personal experience.

When I'm conscious enough to notice it, I struggle with a number of insecurities about myself and a latent sense of anxiety, I guess. This year in particular, I've noticed it's led me to start internally (I don't think I let it on externally... much) making a big deal out of little things or take a situation out of proportion or sometimes go out of my way to do something I wouldn't normally do. Something as minor as someone not responding right away (screw instant messaging and its "seen at" notifications) is enough to bother me more than need be, or being next to someone continuously engaged in some conversation on their phone, or other circumstances not worth describing here.

And after a while, these kinds of unhealthy responses and the thoughts that motivate them lead to a warped view of the world. I don't know if I've ever felt so negative about people in general (at least in large groups) before, or so averse to being around them. It's almost as if I automatically assume the worst of anyone I don't really know (or used to know). Every little disappointment- because for some stupid reason I sometimes feel disappointed talking to people- just contributes to this damaging cynical mindset. As much as I wish I could be amiable in general, it's difficult when I'm not really feeling it a lot of the time.

The disappointment comes from people not conforming to the idealistic situations I might imagine in my head, or in those recent psychological dreams I've had that I've been too embarrassed to write about; from the responses I might hope to see but don't because a conversation just cuts short; from what I sense as a lack of total honesty from the person in front of me; from the realization of how much I dislike modern-day social conventions; from some missing quality in myself that prevents me from calling out whatever it is I'm not seeing and trying to making something of it.

And that's just... one kind of insecurity, actually. There's also the subtle feeling in the back of my mind that I'm totally inefficient at what I do; that I'm not living up to whatever it is I'd hoped to live up to in the past; and that I feel apathetic now about addressing a lot of the problems I see in myself and in life. A lot of the resolutions I looked forward to or attempted at earlier this year have fallen flat, and I just seem to be unable to commit myself to much of anything I want to. These days I tend to feel mentally lost and aimless... and prone to bouts of tiredness and headaches whenever I try to fix my sleeping schedule apparently. Technology isn't really helping me here.

Of course, at the end of the day I find myself incapable of articulating this to anyone... or perhaps I don't even want to, as it doesn't really come up in my head except for when I'm not talking to anyone. You would have to force me to confess, and then I'd have to think about it first because my mind doesn't work the same way in social conversation as it does when writing here or actively reflecting, and then maybe I'll feel comfortable enough to say something if no one else is around. And I'm just describing another one of those ideal situations in my head again. The reality is probably rather different.

And that was my attempt to somehow diagnose why my mind won't let me sleep without really going into explicit detail. I don't feel like I got very far... which is why I should probably carry through with that therapist thought sometime. Maybe.

consumption of late:

- Book: Anna Karenina, that Tolstoy novel about a woman and a man who commit adultery (and the repercussions of it which go on for another 700+ pages...). Tolstoy has a knack for putting into succinct words the complexity of social mannerisms and all of the mind games that people go through when they find themselves in this kind of a situation. And of course there's a bunch of other stuff that he has to say about Russian society in the 1900's and other topics like horseback racing and farming and the proletariat and so on that are probably tangential at best to the subject of the novel, but I guess that's Tolstoy for you. I'll start A Dance with Dragons as soon as I finish this...

- TV Show: The Venture Brothers. Starts out as a parody of the Johnny Quest cartoon series (what if the boy adventurer grew up and had his own kids... and got overshadowed by his own life) but then slowly becomes something much more than that. I caught up with the most recent season the other day and now I'm in the wait for the long haul now. The first season took some getting used to, but over the course of the ones that followed, the show shot up to becoming my favorite cartoon, even beating The Last Airbender (although granted, they're different genres). I might say that it reminds me of Archer, except with much nerdier humor and a more fully developed mythology behind the scenes. I'm starting to realize how much I love backstory in TV shows; it works surprisingly well here even though it's a comedy series.

- Games: Pokemon X, and then Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies. I kinda binge-marathoned through both of these in a span of about two weeks; I mentioned Pokemon in my last post already. The new Ace Attorney game was less about Phoenix than it really was about Apollo and Athena, but the seeing them all work together in their new law agency was a bit refreshing and I have high hopes for the future of the series. Found the game overall stronger than Apollo Justice, although in part because Apollo finally gets some much needed development here.

- Musicals: Evita in LA, Beautiful in SF.
Evita is an Andrew Lloyd Webber classic... and to be honest, I'm not hugely into his stuff compared to other composers. I had trouble paying attention during the first half owing to lack of familiarity with the story of Eva Peron (which a quick wiki during the intermission fixed), but I enjoyed it nonetheless overall. Couldn't help humming Don't Cry For Me Argentina for a while.

Beautiful is the new Carole King musical that debuted in SF and is coming to Broadway later. The style reminded me a bit of Jersey Boys (same-ish era, same-ish concept of singing classic old songs while going through the history of the artist), and I was surprised at how many of the songs I did recognize considering I didn't know much about Carole King before. Great for any oldies fan.

And that's it. Good night.

on a moment

I'm finding it such that I seem to not have much to say except when I'm feeling a little down or depressed. Not like chronic depression, but more like a random moment of a day or even a wholly random day where all of a sudden, I become aware of myself and start feeling out of it for no particular reason. Or maybe some small things will trigger it.

Existential loneliness. It's not that kind that comes about from a lack of relationships, but from some level of personal dissatisfaction with current circumstances, of recognizing that I can still feel lonely and empty in the midst of possessing relationships, where no relationship feels complete or "perfect." Or perhaps from finding a lack of something in myself that contributes to this.

It comes from moments like these when I'm tired and worn out after a long day, having come back from a 20 mile 30 lb backpacking hike over the weekend and finding myself incapable of walking, having had 4 hour's worth of sleep for no real valid reason, and suddenly realizing that I am mentally and emotionally incapable of really talking to people right now. Or that I've still failed to really befriend the people I've wanted to befriend, or that I'm finding myself incapable of really trying to empathize with whatever people are saying to me right now, of really listening and not just responding with auto-pilot single response comments, of really just being a friend. And I'm thinking to myself, is it because I'm tired, or because this is just the kind of person I am fundamentally inside, when I don't have the time or energy to put up extra facades or personas or whatever you call them?

I still get asked often, "Doesn't it get lonely living by yourself?" And I usually just respond with some half-assed response because maybe I'm tired of being asked it by now (despite it being a reasonable question to ask), and there is truth in saying that I'm used to it already, and that when I'm preoccupying myself with something like saying, blogging this right now, I don't really notice it. I would be fine just living like this day after day - it's just when I'm inadvertently alerted to or somehow notice the frequency other people seem to be able to keep up with each other and with how many of them at once, and start wondering if I'm doing something wrong by going for most of a day without talking to anyone outside of work circumstances. And I wonder if I just give off that vibe to people that I prefer to do my own thing sometimes, unintentionally or not.

(also: "You always look tired when I see you." - oddly, I never notice when I look tired, since half of the time this happens, I don't actually feel tired so much as I just feel... normal. someone explain to me, please.)

Maybe it's just jealousy at seeing some quality in others that I don't have, wishing that I weren't so stuck in automatic introvert mode almost all the time and that I had the energy to actually convey to people that I'm enjoying myself when I'm with them even during those times when I'm not saying anything at all or look like I'm just not enjoying myself. Wishing that in spite of that urge I naturally feel to run away from awkward moments and get back to my own world, that I could still convey to the other person that the desire for friendship still exists. Wishing that I could just be honest about what I'm feeling at a certain moment without having to worry about losing or alienating people for fear of awkwardness or back-talking and gossip or that contributing to continuing to miss out on whatever's going on in other people's lives. Wishing that lack of contact frequency didn't translate to lack of depth in a relationship or some level of "you never talk/hang out with me" just because I never know what to say to people when I wanted to talk to them (and then those few times where someone asks me why I wanted to talk to them. do I need a reason why? because I think you're cool, I guess?)

I don't mean for this to be such a downer of a post, but just felt like getting this out there. Sometimes I just feel inexplicably sad all of a sudden for no apparent reason and I am unable to convey it in person to anyone, except that in the process of processing and writing it out here I actually don't feel sad anymore. It's kind of like what Louis C. K. said with just letting the existential sadness just wash over you in that moment and it triggering happiness again. I am happy with just being here, now.

Anyways, back to Pokemon! It occurred to me the other day that Pokemon fulfills my compulsion to schedule plan since the process of putting together a team I actually like that works takes about as much time and research as it took me to create all of those schedules I made for majors I wound up not taking in college. Which is also why I get burnt out on it after beating the elite four and champion in the game I'm playing and wind up not touching one for another two years, just in time for the next versions to come out. But anyway, I'm really digging the new games right now; it's like a handheld realized version of the battles from Stadium.

Sleep No More

http://sleepnomorenyc.com/

So I was in New York this past weekend (it was awesome! more on that another time), and I wound up seeing the production Sleep No More last night before leaving. It's a bit hard to describe, but at best I would put it as an immersive noir play experience set across 5 floors of a hotel building. The story's loosely based on Macbeth combined with elements of Hitchcock films, most notably Rebecca, and some elements taken from Vertigo (like the name of the hotel, the McKittrick. they also play the theme from the movie during a few key scenes).

The way the production works is that the audience members are given white masquerade-style masks to wear throughout the show, and then are randomly introduced into the hotel itself from the elevator in groups at a time on different floors. Everyone is pretty much left to explore the hotel at their own volition, with the chance of randomly encountering actors (anyone who isn't wearing a mask) in rooms or running across the hotel and its stairwells. The location itself has the atmosphere of a glorified haunted house (or the Tower of Terror from Disneyworld/land), except the environment with the music is more creepy and dark than it is haunted; there isn't anything out rightly frightening or jump scare inducing so much as it just feels tense and eerie, which I like more.

The main storyline of the performance actually loops around each hour for a total of 3 cycles, although I think I only managed to catch wind of the actors during the second cycle, as much of the first hour for me was spent waiting to get into the hotel itself and then orienting myself with the surroundings. I was only partway through exploring the second floor I was on before running into an actor, after which point I lost track of where I was pretty fast since I was too busy focusing on trying to catch up with one of the actors. It can get annoying with the number of audience members they let into the hotel, which often results in other *cough slower* people getting in your way, and I was half-apologizing (silently because you aren't allowed to talk) for running into people and tripping over their feet a lot. The fact that most of the staircases are only big enough for single/double file doesn't help so much when thirty people are all trying to catch up with the same actor at the same time. No wonder the show sells out all the time.

Given that you have events happening across all floors of the hotel at the same time, it's pretty much impossible to experience the entire thing in one performance, and in that sense it might be more stress-inducing for people who are prone to feel anxiety about missing out on the best parts. Not to mention, it's kinda pricy to see the performance more than once, but judging by reviews online there seem to be quite a few people that do that, to the point where they generally know where to go and at what times. I'd say the highlights of the experience, or what most people talk about after, anyway, are most of the scenes taken from Macbeth itself, so if you stick to following him at least for 1 whole cycle, you'll get the gist of what's going on and then it's better to deviate from there to see the rest of whatever action is going on. There was a whole other subplot going on involving the Rebecca inspired characters that I didn't really quite get, and I ran into them first. One of them actually led me into a Macbeth scene, after which point I was pretty much following Macbeth and related characters for the rest of the night because they struck me as generally more exciting to follow at that moment.

The experience will probably vary by person, and to some people the acting might come across as too exaggerated and the overall deal overrated and priced, but I honestly found it a worthwhile experience at least for the novelty of it all... Although Justin did tell me it sounded like a very Ryan-thing to go to. >_>

What follows are spoilers for the production as I try to recall everything I saw that night. It's interesting to compare with the impressions other people have written online; I've been starting to make sense of what scenes I actually did manage to see and which I didn't. It gets confusing sometimes since you aren't given any context for who a particular actor is initially when you run into them; I didn't recognize who Macbeth was until I came across him a second time in a scene that made it pretty obvious. (And if you don't know the story of Macbeth beforehand, it's probably even more confusing.)

A reminder

that the number of experiences I have to be thankful for far exceed the number of personal disappointments in my life. It's easy to forget sometimes.

Thanks for the past few days.

---

I was about to write something about experiencing anxiety with regards to the "appropriate" way to act in certain situations, but when it came down to it, I realized it really was more about not wanting to be embarrassed. Because I've never really been able to deal well with embarrassing situations borne unintentionally from my own actions and mistakes, and my ego won't allow me to expose myself to anything that might pose that kind of a risk in front of people I'm not as close to. Or even my own family. (hence why I refused to let my mom to teach me Indonesian when I was younger, and why I became so reticent growing up. I couldn't stand it when my family would make fun of me, let alone other people.)

The real me is a lot more vulnerable and easily flustered than whatever image I seem to be putting up in front of the people I know nowadays. Oftentimes now, I feel like I'm coming across as distant or "sophisticated" or stoic or whatever term would come to mind there, and it's probably hindered me a lot from the kind of meaningful relationships I wish I were experiencing more often nowadays. Sometimes you just need to be open to embarrassing yourself in public every once in a while.

I might come to regret that statement later. -_-

---

Things to look forward to:

- next installment of Phoenix Wright coming out next month! Download only for 3DS, but still. (and then Layton vs. Phoenix Wright next year! and the ongoing translation of the Miles Edgeworth 2!) and Pokemon too I guess.

- the weekly's: Breaking Bad, Legend of Korra, One Piece. BrBa finale this Sunday!!

- New York this weekend!!!

- West End production of Merrily We Roll Along in theaters next month!

- going home at the end of the month to see Evita in LA with the brother! And maybe pick up a thing or two.

- finally reading A Dance with Dragons at the end of the month because I've been waiting for the paperback version to come out for ages. and lots of books I've been meaning to get to in general.

- living in the moment. still a work in progress, as I'm so prone to getting caught up mentally in other things.

---

Aside: I like how my two line post winds up being the most viewed post ever on this blog. About a TV show, no less. Maybe I should just stick to tumblr-style quick posts.

(Just kidding... that's what tumblr is for.)

BrBa

Breaking Bad, you break my heart.

That is all. Good night.

The Act of Killing

A few weeks ago, I headed up to SF to catch one of the last showings in the city of a documentary film on the Indonesian killings of 1965-1966, an atrocity that was committed largely against the Indonesian Communist party of the time, and suspected members, often from the ethnic Chinese minority. The film itself, titled The Act of Killing, has been garnering attention since hitting limited release in theaters across the nation last month, and it's expected to released online in Indonesia for free sometime in September- which may sound somewhat odd, except that the killers in the film are still considered heroes in that country, so a traditional release of a product that could potentially draw attention to them in a negative light wouldn't make much sense anyway. And they're not concerned about piracy since it'll be released online in its unsubbed form, anyway.

The documentary wasn't really anything like any other documentary I've seen before, to be honest. There's isn't really a narrator other than brief screens of text at certain points during the film to explain context or other similar details, but for the most part the direction of the film is traced by the words of the principal subjects of the film, Anwar Congo and his fellow former executioner friends and gang members related to the paramilitary organization Pancasila. Most of what's shown is meant to speak for itself or left open for the viewer to interpret; while on one hand, it's easy to simply react with shock to everything seemingly wrong about this society, I think the real purpose of this film isn't to shock the viewer, but to make them ponder why a messed up society like this is possible, and why people are capable of committing human atrocities against each other. If anything, by the end of the film, I was feeling more sensitive or perhaps even empathetic to the concerns of some of these men themselves, even though they still are murderers. And even now I'm wondering if that's at all appropriate.

The basic premise given by the director, Joshua Oppenheimer, is that he's come up to these men, who people recognize as heroes for their extermination of the communists of the 1960's, and asked them to relive those killings in whatever manner or film genre they see fit. Since Anwar and his buddies were huge fans of the American gangster films of the 60's among other things, the scenes that they end up filming for this take on varying forms reminiscent of those movies. We don't ever get to see the entire final film that these men make (it isn't actually clear whether they finished or not), but we do get to see a set of seemingly random, unrelated scenes and the making of those scenes, including a few surreal moments involving dancing native women, war ghosts and evil spirits, a drag queen, a decapitated talking head, and a giant statue of an open mouthed fish among other things.

But the bizarre imagery is just an extra touch added to the more disturbing real life moments depicting the process Anwar and his friends undertake in order to realize this film. This includes recruiting local folks to reenact the roles of the victims of his crimes, and reunions and interviews with other old friends who also had a role in allowing the killings of the 60's to take place. There's another scene in which Anwar's neighbor reveals midway through the film to the film makers that he was raised by a Chinese stepfather that got lynched... while smiling (perhaps nervously) the entire time he's telling that story, as a way of saying, "I'm not judging you guys; I'm just giving you suggestions for your movie!" And in the midst of everyone writing it off as an unlikely scene to be filmed for logistical and other reasons, you get the sense that inside they're all uncomfortable with what might be this can of worms they've opened, uncovering secrets and realizations that no one is really ready to face. One of the former co-conspirators, Adi, admits this as much. And in the aftermath of the next scene they film, in which Anwar's neighbor acts as the torture victim, you see the tears start streaming down his face and wonder if he's acting his part in the scene, or if he really is feeling upset at that moment.

The most disconcerting aspect of the entire film is the realization that the entire genocide incident is treated in Indonesian culture as simply a normal facet of life and their history, decades after the event. Anwar and his friends are still seen as heroes for what they did in the 60's, and ironically, as a talk show host interviewing him puts it, for having discovered a "humane way of exterminating communists." What others in the Western world would consider crimes as humanity are seen as normal and even necessary in this society, and it exemplifies that adage, "History is written by the victors." Ironically, part of the reason the West didn't react when this incident took place was due to the Cold War and the US policy of containment, which would consider an incident such as the mass murder of communists to be desirable outcome as it impeded the spread of communism in southeast Asia in the long run. And this incident in particular pretty much was responsible for wiping the Communist Party of Indonesia (the PKI) from the face of the country.

Over the course of the making of his own film, Anwar himself starts to undergo what seems to be almost a cathartic process, of realizing the full scope of his crimes. He admits that ever since the killings (and in particular after seeing the eyes on the head of a man he decapitated), he has suffered from nightmares on a regular basis and frequently has trouble sleeping. With the shooting of each successive scene for the film, Anwar noticeably appears increasingly uncomfortable, commenting on how much worse each scene turned out than it did in his head. Adi, on the other hand, shrugs Anwar's evident distress away as an illness of the nerves, and recommends that he visit a psychiatrist instead. Adi himself has managed to figure out how to live with the weight of his past, simply by not regretting or dwelling on it, which has been aided by the fact that society and history have declared his faction the victors. He even goes as far as to say that the Geneva Conventions don't matter. So what if they try to come back and punish him in the future, he says. They'll just respond with their own "Jakarta Conventions" instead.

In the meantime, Anwar's progression comes to almost a sort of a climax in one of the final scenes, where the man himself is cast as the victim of a torture scene in a noir-style film context, with the execution method used being the same as that which he used on his own victims, an improvised garrote made from wire. Anwar has to cut the scene short at the last minute; it seems to be too much for him, and he appears exhausted and in need of water. On watching the final cut of that last scene (ironically with his grandkids, although they're clearly not as responsive to the scene), he asks an off-screen Oppenheimer behind the camera, "Did my victims feel the same way that I did in that moment?"

"No, they felt much worse. You knew it was just a film; they knew they were going to die."

What follows in the few minutes left in the film after this scene is a nighttime return to a rooftop visited earlier in the film during the day, in which Anwar had happily boasted about how he'd developed the improvised garrote technique to reduce inconvenient blood splatter and pointed out the exact spots where people had died. This time, at night, he recalls the same deaths, the same moments, but in a more somber tone, which is interrupted when he suddenly retches on the spot and turns away from the camera to vomit in a corner, which goes on for a couple of minutes. It's probably the most uncomfortable moment to watch in the entire film. And then he leaves the building, as the credits roll.

For an outsider looking into this culture, these scenes, and Adi's responses, it's easy to fall back into an automatic mode of response, of shock, of disbelief, of judgment on all of those involved in this tragedy. It feels natural to say that Anwar and Adi clearly deserved to be punished for all of those murders they committed, even if they were just part of the executioner squad of a war in which these incidents were to be expected. Likewise, it seems sort of obvious to explain the transformation that Anwar seems to undergo throughout the film as a sign of him comprehending the true magnitude of his sins, of coming back to a sort of normal state that society up till now has prevented him from reaching, what with its celebration of what he did. The process of making this film, of forcing him to relive his past, has allowed Anwar to become... human again, in a sense.

And to be honest, I felt mostly along those lines throughout the course of the film. I saw individuals like Anwar's neighbor, still affected by the memories of his stepfather's murder, and Anwar himself as fundamentally broken people as a result of a fundamentally broken society and culture. I know we tend to use the word "broken" a lot in Christian contexts, but having been raised around that sort of worldview, it was very hard to not see this exactly as a prime example of that. I'd say it was primarily because of the dominant prevailing culture, one that encourages racism and genocide even up to governmental levels, that such atrocities were allowed to occur, that individuals were enabled to commit crimes against their fellow humans, and given options to carry through with them without the need to feel remorse or guilt. It's as Adi said - if their own society won't punish him for it, why should he care?

But at the same time, part of me wonders how much of this all is just a Westernized interpretation of things. For all we know, Anwar simply recovered from his minor physical illness the next day and went back to his normal, everyday life, no different than usual. And it's typical of us in the West to simply look at the entirety of a situation as such and explain it all as the result of abstract concepts like culture and society and fundamental brokenness, as if the knowledge of such things might allow for more readily understandable solutions like "awareness" or "social reconstruction" or "racial reconciliation" or even "healing" or whatever crap terms we like to employ (especially us Christians). Perhaps in a world that conformed to our idealized human understanding, such solutions would be feasible, but this is reality, where what we perceive as brokenness and injustice is just another facet of life most of the time no matter where you go in the world, and where there are no easy or quick fix solutions to the underlying problems we see. Or maybe that's just the jaded person in me speaking right now.

That all said, I appreciate the effort that Oppenheimer undertook in making this film available to the greater public, and especially with regards to the free online distribution of it in the country of its making. One could probably make a greater argument (actually, I've seen this in the advertising) for the power that film and cinema have in helping people achieve their own self-actualization, just as in any other form of work. And in making The Act of Killing available to the Indonesian public at large, there's the hope that it might help bring about, even if only in small steps now, a greater societal catharsis that has been decades in the making, moreso than any of us mere foreign viewers removed from that context could have achieved. Or perhaps it'll end up being overlooked as just another afterthought by some lesser known documentary director... although I sincerely hope for the former. But we can only wait and see.

Fruitvale Station

I have this odd interest in watching films that make me feel uncomfortable. I don't mean uncomfortable in the horror film jump scare sense- I can't really stand most of those films anyway and I suspect my habit of wiki-ing films before watching them stemmed from this- but more along the lines of the unsettling feeling in your stomach sense, like the tension you would feel from a scene in a Hitchcock film. Incidentally, there haven't been many films coming out this year that I've actually been interested in watching compared to the last (Star Trek was okay, Monsters University met expectations, Pacific Rim was surprisingly fun... yeah that's about it), or at least from the major mainstream releases anyway. Recently though, I watched two films on limited release that were probably some of the best I've seen in a while, and I should watch limited release films more often. But anyway, this post covers the first of those. I'll get to the second one another time.

About a month ago I saw Fruitvale Station with a friend in SF. It's a drama film based on the BART Police shooting of Oscar Grant that occurred a few years ago, which to be honest I wasn't fully conscious of at the time aside from the mass protesting that took place as a result of it. The film felt particularly even more relevant at the time I saw it, though, given that the decision regarding the case of Trayvon Martin had just come out a week before, and the week following it had just been heavy and depressing.

The film itself covers the last day of Oscar Grant's life leading up to the shooting event, of which clips from the actual incident are shown in the first few minutes to establish the connection in a manner that felt reminiscent to me of the 9/11 clips in Zero Dark Thirty. Oscar Grant is portrayed by Michael B. Jordan, an actor I fondly remembered as the teenage Wallace from the first season of The Wire, and I was surprised to see how much he'd grown since then. The 24 hours leading up to the event seem to play out like any other day in the life of an average, formerly delinquent but struggling black male living in East Bay. The film even felt a touch close to home with shots of BART and of course Fruitvale Station among other things. Some of the more touching and poignant moments, such as Grant's interactions with his young daughter, added a pleasant mood to the film and helped to convey how normal his life was... up until that fateful moment, that is.

It is all the more tragic to witness it all go down in succession, hoping for a happy resolution for this man and his family even though you already know what happened in real life. The last half hour or so was just gut-wrenching to watch. My friend had to leave the theater until the film ended, and I teared up. (...okay, so I haven't legitimately cried in a film since An American Tail in elementary school... but nowadays if something makes me tear up, it's pretty legit.)

Granted, it's been mentioned online that parts of the film were over-dramatized or inserted for effect, as would likely any other film based off of a true story. The director couldn't have known what exactly did go through Oscar Grant's mind on the last day of his life, and what we have left is a film that makes clear its sympathies towards the victim of the actual incident overall. I feel somewhat mixed on how appropriate it is to depict real life events in a fictionalized format; while the film doesn't necessarily make any outright claims towards being the end-all truth of the matter, it's tempting to associate its depiction of Grant with the real man when you're caught in the emotion of the moment, and especially when juxtaposed with clips of the actual incident and aftermath. I have to wonder how much worse it could be if it had been any other heavily politicized event... like Trayvon.

(I felt a similar feeling after Zero Dark Thirty as well, except the premise for that film as a CIA operation with a few fictionalized characters was removed enough that I didn't mind it so much, whereas Oscar here is someone people actually did know in real life.)

But at the least, it makes for a compelling drama and a haunting, yet beautiful film. I can't speak as much as to how the actual shooting was portrayed except that it doesn't really seem to point the finger at anyone involved so much as it does make it seem like an unfortunate combination of circumstance and bad timing. It doesn't tug too hard on the political aspects of the incident so much as it does attempt to create a story, one that makes you reconsider how easily a full life can just disappear when you least expect it. And that's how tragic events are in real life... quick and unexpected. but with lasting consequences.

I'd recommend Fruitvale Station to anyone, but with a note that it's not really one of those films you watch to be entertained, so much as to be disturbed and moved. And I kinda wish there there were more prominent movies available to watch in theaters like it, although I have to admit I haven't been paying attention to what's been coming out that closely yet. Maybe I'll start doing so again.

Rolling Along

I went on a retreat this weekend with River folks to a camp in the mountainous woods (okay, maybe not the right usage of words but whatever) between San Jose and Santa Cruz. The route there was about the same as the one taken for Justin and Miki's camping trip to Big Basin last year up to a certain point, and it invoked a few old memories from last year (including me getting owned by a root on a hiking trail, but that's another story). Overall, it was a great opportunity to take a moment to relax, away from the hustle and bustle-or sometimes lack thereof- of working life and coming home tired and wittling the night hours away on Fallout 2, which was pretty much all I did last week.

(...seriously, the old Fallout games are like a time sinkhole once you figure out how to not get massacred by every random radscorpion and evil plant and big gun wielding band of thugs you meet. Where I last left off I was trying to figure out how to become a made man of each of the 4 ruling families of New Reno without getting killed off by the other three for siding with their rivals, and then how to assassinate the family heads after joining them. It's fun.)

The speaker at this retreat was Dave Schmelzer, the author of the book Not the Religious Type: Confessions of a Turncoat Atheist and former pastor at the Vineyard Christian Fellowship in Boston, which I knew little of prior to this weekend. When it comes to books that tend to get sold at the "book table" at these retreats like his book, I tend to have a like/dislike interest in them. They usually have something interesting to say, but at the same times there's always something else about them I don't like as much, like some aspect they overlook in what they're saying that merits criticism or just something in their argument that's lacking. Dave's book on the other hand (which I haven't finished yet), seems to fit in a weird niche of being more rambly-thought-tangential than usual but in a way that still makes sense, which also happens to be how he speaks in person as well. It also partly addresses a topic I find personally relevant - the disconnect in thoughts between religious and non-religious people, only not so much black-and-white because like everything else these fall along a spectrum.

Dave refers to the psychiatrist M. Scott Peck's 4 stages of spiritual development, which surprisingly makes sense (at least to me) as a model for understanding where people stand spiritually (although I'm curious as to what criticism there may be of it since relying too much on models like these tends to be a slippery slope. cue the rampant and incessant discussion of Myers-Briggs whenever I hang around church folks). It categorizes this in a way such that atheists and agnostics, particularly those who have left a faith, are possibly actually more developed in this respect than many of those who consider themselves religious... which would explain why some religious populations (as in America) feel more backwards in thought. It also delves into why people on both sides have issues communicating with each other - the disconnect between people who are at different stages of development. It's an interesting concept - although granted, even Dave admitted that it's normal to still have thoughts from previous stages even when someone is supposedly at stage 4.

Dave also referenced the famous "This Is Water" commencement speech of David Foster Wallace, an author I've been meaning to read for a while if I ever get around to it, who's been called the voice of our post-modern age and whose posthumously published work The Pale King was a factor into why the Pulitzer Prize for fiction wasn't awarded last year. If you have the time, it's worth a listen. It addresses something I've been finding more personally relevant ever since I started working: the importance of being conscious in spite of the mundane and the frustration that generally accompanies everyday adult life. To be able to consider other points of view and modes of thinking besides the lens of self, to have agency in choosing what exactly it is you think about, because what's important isn't so much possessing knowledge as it is simply being aware of what's in front of you... and not just get lost in the stream of your own internal monologue, which I'm almost always guilty of on a regular basis. But David Foster Wallace words it better than I can.

It's funny, because on the way to the retreat while driving, I was just thinking about this. How unconscious I've been the past while, constantly on auto-pilot in my responses to people and motion through life without consideration of bigger things, with the majority of my days of late revolving around thoughts of some form of "how am I going to finish this game this week" and nothing else. I've been neglecting personal responsibilities, what I'm doing with my life, where I am with God, and a bunch of other concerns all for the sake of entertaining myself just one more day. One more day, when days can turn into weeks and then years, where a subtle disease like cancer could spring up out of nowhere and end it all when I least expect it. Okay, maybe I'm being somewhat melodramatic and border-line hypochondriac there, but the fear exists. I don't know when my life will end, and yet I'm trudging on waiting for another day to go by at work so I can go home, while silently ignoring that voice in my head yelling, "what are you doing with your life?"

This weekend was a time for me to stop constantly moving for a moment and reconsider the trajectory my life has taken. How long can I keep sitting around here at this job and continue the humdrum routine I've been following for the past two years? How long am I going to continue to let these burdens continue to weigh me down, stop me from moving on with my life, continue to make me grumble inside and cynically complain whenever a worship song is playing? How long am I going to keep on pursuing random entertainment for the sake of a short-term distraction, an activity to keep me occupied from reexamining my thoughts and beliefs and face concerns I've neglected over the years? How much longer?

I realized eventually that when it came down to it, much of my lack of action in a direction I would find meaningful up to this point stems from an overwhelming sense of fear. Fear of uncertainty, fear of not knowing the truth, fear of lacking control over my future, fear of failure, fear of being rejected, fear of missing out. I settled for where I am now because it's the safe thing to do. I grew up with the view that the world was a scary place and that I should avoid risky situations and dangers and trusting people too much, and instead favor stability and comfort over anything else. And while that isn't an overtly bad way of life in itself, overemphasizing it tends to make life feel static and devoid of, ironically, life.

If anything, what I ought to be most afraid of is living a dead, unexamined life. If I take a look at the journal entries I've actually managed to write this past year, most of them are hardly joyful and instead tend toward being anxious or cynical. I ought to have plenty of reason to be happy or even thankful for the experiences I've been having, given how "busy" I somehow seem to be this year, but for some reason the main feeling I can recall experiencing from these past two years is an overall sense of anxiety and cynicism. I stopped believing that God would actually do anything in the problems I continued to see in myself and others and the world on a day-to-day basis. I stopped really praying for anything. I lost confidence in my own ability to maintain meaningful friendships with anyone I met given a lack of consistency in having even normal conversations. I went through a debilitating series of depressive moments earlier this year that led me at one point to drive to work (and then McDonald's) at 4 in the morning because I couldn't sleep anymore. I would frequently find myself somewhere, whether it be at church or at a social gathering or some other event, and wondering, "what am I even doing here?" I was even afraid of going to this retreat because I might just suffer that same thought the entire time I was there. What am I doing here. What am I doing here. What am I doing here.

After all of this, I'm just tired right now. Tired of not really living life. All that I have now, all this so-called convenience and privilege and comfort and job security and complacency means nothing if I can't enjoy it. The numbers of reasons for why I might be dissatisfied right now are too great and overwhelming as it is, although it could probably be easily summed together somewhere along the lines of, "suffering exists." But that's no excuse for not standing up, looking back at it in the face, unflinching, and continuing to live consciously, meaningfully, and with purpose. I'm making a commitment to live each day in the moment, and not solely for my own self-interest. Of course, it'll more difficult to keep up than just saying it would suggest, and I don't really have that great of a track record with commitments so far. Staying conscious everyday in itself is enough of a struggle as it is - even David Foster Wallace committed suicide. But that's how it goes sometimes, I guess.

Following along with my thought that there's a song from a musical for every occasion, there's a musical called Merrily We Roll Along whose opening song ties into this theme (and is probably my favorite musical that I haven't seen live yet now, ever since I finally saw Into the Woods this summer). The title and lyrics say it all. Merrily we roll along. How did you get to be here? What was the moment? When I was feeling depressed earlier this year, I kept coming back to the songs from this musical: Merrily We Roll Along, Like It Was, Old Friends, Not a Day Goes By, Now You Know - all of them cautious reminders of how easy it is for your life to fall off track if you don't pay attention as time goes by. At least you can still fix things and try for your dreams while there's still time... while you're still alive.

on being social

My antisocial mood moments have been on the rise lately.

Not that I don't want to be social... but I don't feel like starting things, although I somehow find myself in a position of doing so sometimes anyway. I have a housewarming coming up this weekend and I'm somewhat dreading whatever I've gotten myself into because I have no idea what to expect of it. I haven't really planned it out that much yet.

Some friends lately have called me a "social butterfly" or whatever because it seems like I'm out and about all the time... but to be honest, I don't really feel it at all. Maybe I do a good job of putting events on my schedule together so it seems like I'm always busy and not available, but as it went with my last busy weekend, at every event I show up to with more than maybe 3 or 4 people, I generally end up feeling out of place or just there, which probably shows itself most by my tendency to be quiet and just sit there and space out while everyone else is talking. It makes me wonder at those times why I'm really there to begin with, other than maybe "keeping up the appearance" of being around people. I even distinctly recall an (inebriated) person I was walking home once from an event tell me, "I was surprised to see you here... You're a pretty quiet person." Which lends itself into why I don't consistently hang out with most people on a regular basis... and why everyone seems find me busy all the time.

[On a random note, Ryan mentioned recently that when we first started going to class together... a semester after meeting, I didn't really say anything until he mentioned Smash Bros once. Funny how circumstances change like that. If anything, my experiences pretty much tell me that I take a long time to befriend most people after meeting them.]

It astounds me how I am capable of interacting with people sometimes. The conversations I have often tend to feel out of sync with whatever is going on in my head at the moment or in general, although parts of it will come out in gushes, like if the game I'm preoccupied with happens to come up. (I'm still on a game binge by the way.) But really, I've sat in front of a mirror before and wondered if the person I can see is the same person everyone else sees when they interact with me. It's like I'm just doing a decent job of putting up a facade for communicating with people somehow, when inside I have something else completely different on my mind, and at that moment I just want to be left to my own devices, which is generally what happens at work for me anyway. I usually have this filter on that blocks out most of what's been going on in my head when I talk to people, or else I imagine I'd be a lot more melodramatic and emotional all the time. I've actually contemplated making a private twitter to document the random tangential thoughts that enter my head sometimes... but there's a reason why I don't reveal these things to people.

All that said, I don't hate interacting with people - I actually enjoy listening to others a lot - I just find it tiring to keep up with everyone. Which is why I guess the relationships that have flourished the most for me are the ones that don't require the upkeep of having to talk everyday or even that often, the ones that don't have me worrying if they're still there or not just because we haven't hung out in a while (and oftentimes I feel like I have to be the one to initiate anyway). I appreciate being able to enjoy a good day with someone even if we haven't talked for months or years - and in fact it's starting to feel more normal for me now. (I'm probably repeating myself here.)

On another note, there's a lot going on in our heads during social interaction that we take for granted. About a year ago I was sitting in on a group session for high schoolers with disorders on the autism spectrum (long story) and a lot of the topics covered by the teacher felt somewhere between juvenile and common knowledge, when in reality for those students it really wasn't. Cues that most of us somehow manage to pick up through interactions and experiences had to be taught to these kids, made explicit for them by adults. And some of them were the victims of bullying and in one case was moving schools all the time for all the trouble he kept getting into... for not responding well to bullying. I have to admit, if I were in that situation I wouldn't know what to do either.

Looking at it all, it reminded me of experiences I'd almost forgotten from a long time ago, back when I was still in middle school and wasn't really friends with anyone in my class. I don't remember why, but when I was younger I'd already developed a habit of watching other kids play on the playground, but not really joining in with them on anything... or perhaps I did a few times, but I don't remember much of it. After a while I'd developed a habit of living in my own world at recess, playing on the playground by myself while make believing stuff like a scenario where all of the buildings and cars near me were boats traveling in parallel on a huge river, somewhere, while mostly ignoring whatever else was going on at recess. Come to think of it, there were a few people I did interact with early on, but all of them wound up moving to different schools at some point or were in the younger grades, and those relationships didn't keep for long.

This kept on until my teacher at the time noted my lack of social activity at recess/lunch to my parents at a parent-teacher conference, and then the next thing I knew we had assigned tables per grade at lunch, and then somehow I made friends with the people in my class who sat at the same table as me... who I vaguely recalled choosing to sit with in the first place because I found them least cumbersome to deal with... I don't know what was going on in my head at the time. There was one time one of them even told me to go away, which really upset me and I think I was almost ready to give up on having friends, but somehow we wound up being good friends a year later due to random circumstances and luck I guess, and I don't think that person would remember this anyway. Well, kids tend to be pretty fickle at that age in general.

The point of that all being, being social is a lot harder (for some of us at least) than we generally give it credit for. And I even have a tendency to prefer to distance myself away from people who aren't that social or seem uncomfortable to be around, despite the fact that those people are as in much need of community and friendship as anyone else and oftentimes have a lot of insight into things that the rest of us don't really notice in life. I keep having to remind myself that every time I find myself in social situations, both where I'm the one with the privilege of extending a hand out to people and where I'm the one who feels excluded or left out. Even when it turns out that there's isn't an easy way to integrate some people with a community, because they don't happen to fit in for some reason like they make others uncomfortable, and it isn't usually clear how exactly one can fix this issue.

And the advent of instant messaging and texting and facebook and all of that just makes this even more complicated. Most of the time I don't give it as much thought or worry like I used to when I was younger and suffered from instant messaging anxiety, but I still feel uncomfortable sometimes when people don't respond in a timely fashion (or just ever) due to the lack of cues in these forms of communication that would be accessible in physical interaction. Not that physical interaction is that much better, though... I guess I can still be oblivious to when people actually don't really like me, for one thing. I'm assuming there are people out there who still don't based off of past history, but whatever... It's not like that knowledge would change much, and you can't please everyone anyway.

I still have moments every week where I just feel like cutting off contact with everyone and keeping to myself, because it's easier that way than having to deal with the anxiety and the unnecessary worrying I often exhibit when it comes to the prospect of keeping up with people and not knowing what to do in social situations I'm not comfortable with, as they happen all the time. But I have to remind myself that these ties and relationships are worth it in the long run, because they're part of what makes this life worth living.

Now excuse me while I go off and be anti-social for a while thanks to my sickness. I think I ate some bad leftovers yesterday and I've been feeling queasy all day... and couldn't sleep last night due to a combination of sleeping early and waking up in the middle of the night and being too awake to fall asleep + it being too hot + random joint and back aches + migraine level headaches from getting too little sleep and then napping too much + my mind being unstable in such conditions and experiencing a half-awake existential mid-life crisis. I really should take better care of myself. sigh.

games of late

In which I put a lot of effort into venting my obsession of the week. >_>

-- The most recent Ace Attorney game (Dual Destinies) came out in Japan two days ago, and thus far I haven't quite spoiled myself on the culprits for the last two cases of the game yet... okay, I suck at not spoiling myself. This wait for the English version can't seem to end any sooner.

All I've done these past two days is massively obsess over the new game and start up a replay of Apollo Justice (just cause it's the last mainline game I haven't replayed yet) while listening to a livestream of someone playing the new game (and not watching the video so as to not spoil myself... all I'm hearing as I'm typing this now is chainsaw noises...) and refreshing the message boards every 5 minutes to see if anyone's posted anything new, while half-heartedly not trying to read everything... I know, it's sad.

If for some reason you own a DS/3DS and haven't played one of these games yet, PLAY IT. But I guess don't take my word for it because I'm automatically biased for this series by now... and if you've talked to me about games anytime in the past decade you've probably heard me gush about it enough already. But it really is a good series, particularly if you like solving murder mysteries with intense courtroom drama.

-- I finally finished Front Mission 5 earlier this week. I think in some senses it was a little overhyped for me, but at the same time it still definitely was the best game in the series and made for a great experience. Most of the things I found worth liking in the game were subtle: the updates to the battle system; the vast amount of mech and pilot customization options; the attention to detail in the setting and continuity established with previous games; as well as the overall maturity of the plot and its subject material, particularly the aftereffects of war on its participants, hence the subtitle Scars of the War. It's something you don't necessarily see often in war-based video games; the only other one that comes to mind for me right now is Spec Ops: The Line, and that game basically throws the subject in your face.

Due to the nature of how the plot progressed- time jumping forward across a series of scattered major world events- the story sometimes felt a bit jarring, and at one point I didn't realize that 9 years had passed within minutes because the character models didn't change at all to reflect it (and also because they were still talking as if 9 years hadn't passed...). Towards the end, I was feeling a sense of "that's it?" because it didn't feel like that much had actually happened before the final conflict, which I assume was a consequence of all the jumping. Without taking the time to reflect on the events that have happened, you don't really get a good sense of what's going on overall.

Likewise, the man antagonist barely had enough time to establish himself as it was; up till the end you get this sense that there's more to his backstory and motivations than what you've been presented (which I know to be true having read up on the external series material online), but as you're about to finish him off anyway it doesn't seem to matter anymore. At the end of the day he ends up acting just like another evil villain, which felt a bit disappointing- he had the potential to be a lot more interesting with the details we were given even in the game.

Overall, though, FM5 is a great game and worth checking out if you're into turn-based strategy games and looking for something different from the typical medieval fantasy fare they've been coming in lately. The real-world setting is a plus here, and I can't think of any other series that handles its strategy in the same way with the individual customizable mech parts with their own HP and the AP/leader link system among other things. It's also got good replay value in the form of New Game+ and Hard Mode, although I doubt I'll have time to get to those anytime soon. Just be sure to play at least the first game before this one, or else you'll feel even more lost in the story than I did trying to put the pieces together.

-- On a whim I also randomly started games in Shin Megami Tensei 4 and Shadowrun Returns this week, but I probably won't really get to those for a while.

I've also been randomly craving playing a fighting game (either Persona 4 Arena or Ultimate Marvel vs Capcom), a One Piece game that lets you play as Nami, Robin, Kuzan, Borsalino, and Law (incidentally, Pirate Warriors 2 pictured above comes out later this year...), and a round of Mario Kart on a Wii that I don't have. In short, I just feel like playing too many random games right now for no real reason. And it's kinda driving me crazy.

-- In the process of writing this I wound up making a list categorizing all of my favorite games in the order that said categories would excite me if a new game were to come out for them... because I spontaneously make lists like that sometimes. Okay, so I spend a large chunk of time just going back over stuff like this just cause. I've lost track of how much time I've spent... definitely too much.

But anyway, the full list of games is too long for here, but here's the list of the overall categories with favorite games from each in parentheses and links to relevant articles and retrospectives from Hardcore Gaming 101 and other sites as I could find them (which I'll admit I got carried away with looking up). Speaking of which, I love Hardcore Gaming 101; it's what got me into Ace Attorney and Front Mission years ago among other things thanks to its detailed series overviews. But anyway, I enjoy reading articles that give you a vast sweeping overview of games across a series and particularly across a developer's set of works. Consequently, a good majority of these categories wound up being the names of specific individuals or studios rather than just series names.

(I'll admit this list is more for my own personal reference than anything else. But I can attest that some of the links are probably good reads... particularly regarding the history of gaming, although this list is mostly eschewed towards adventure games and RPGs as usual.)

1. Chrono (Trigger; Cross)
2. Shu Takumi (Ace Attorney; Ghost Trick)
3. Ragnar Tornquist (The Longest Journey, Dreamfall)
4. Chris Avellone, Obsidian, and others (Planescape: Torment; Mask of the Betrayer; Fallout: New Vegas)
5. Tim Schafer (Day of the Tentacle; Grim Fandango; Psychonauts)
6. Telltale (Sam and Max: The Devil's Playhouse; The Walking Dead)
7. Wadjet Eye (The Blackwell Series; Gemini Rue; Primordia)
8. Hiroyuki Ito (FF6; FF9; FF12; FF Tactics)
9. Kotaro Uchikoshi (Ever17; Remember11; 999; Virtue's Last Reward)
10. Shigesato Itoi (Earthbound; Mother 3)
11. Ron Gilbert (Monkey Island; Putt-Putt; Pajama Sam; Spy Fox; The Cave)
12. Shin Megami Tensei (Persona 2; Digital Devil Saga)
13. Tales (Symphonia, Xillia)
14. Tetsuya Takahashi (Xenogears; Xenoblade)
15. Mario RPGs (Super Mario RPG; Paper Mario; The Thousand Year Door)
16. Golden Sun

Honorable Mentions:
1. Kingdom Hearts
I still have fond memories of the first game. Everything after has been kind of meh and the Xehanort plot is unnecessarily convoluted (and I still can't get over the fact that Xemnas just happens to be an anagram of Mansex...), although I'll admit the gameplay is still fun sometimes.
2. Front Mission
The only reason this isn't on the main list is because this series doesn't need anymore games. I hear Evolved was a major disappointment, although considering main director, Tsuchida, left Square already, I'm not surprised.
3. Major Nintendo Franchises
I enjoy playing mainline Mario, Zelda, Pokemon games and the like, but since I know they're always going to come out anyway, I don't feel too compelled to always play the next game in the series and I generally skip around a bit. Pokemon might be the one exception to the rule here, but I can only play a Pokemon game once every few years anyway before burning out on it. And planning my own team is unhealthy for my list obsession...

Anyways, next up: Fallout 2. And I should probably finish Tales of Graces F before Xillia comes out in two weeks.

Dream Post #49

1. I am witness to a 4-way battle on a platform? atop the mouth of a volcano between Kuzan (One Piece), Kakashi (Naruto), generic-giant-sword-man (???... but he apparently managed to break through Kuzan's ice body and give him severe burns. and reminds me of Jozu), and a hooded and caped Kyrie (...Hilgardia lol), who's wielding and swinging hooked-ropes in midair like Lin Beifong (Legend of Korra) and Spiderman (Spiderman) while countering Kakashi's ninja moves.

That was the most epic dream I've had in a long time, and I'm actually sad to have woken up in the middle of it. Go Kyrie.

2. Something something ->
learning a new lindy routine named after an animal (pig?) ->
outside a science museum in SF with Olivia, Andrew, James, and some girls I don't recognize ->
pogo sticks? ->
and next thing I know I'm apartment-mates with a friend of a friend I met recently.

This was probably an example of dreams being my brain trying to sort out past memories from a given time period. It's usually the day after though, not a while after...

on privilege.

My dream is to someday be like you, Ryan.

Okay, so that was said somewhat in jest and was partly a commentary of how much more like the "1%" I've been living right now (...ever since that one Halloween where I showed up to corn mazing in a suit). but still.

Ever since I've moved up here I've had this inkling sense, or more like a pang of guilt in the back of my head that the life I have right now is something I don't deserve.

I was told recently that I had no pride for not feeling anything on knowing that someone with a less developed background than me could get a better pay in the same kind of field (given certain circumstances). Looking on it in retrospect, it's more like I already feel like I'm getting too much as it is, and I honestly don't care how much more other people make than me. It just happens that the field I work in is in demand, because how much you get paid has less to do with the sophistication of your work or educational background and more to do with whether people happen to need what you're doing right now (and with the tech industry that's a whole different story).

And that said, I know too many people with much better work ethics, who have had to struggle with a lot more setbacks in the process to even just get by. People who don't have the luxury of not having to worry about living paycheck-to-paycheck or paying off student loans or debts or how to get to work or other places everyday because they have a car and a smartphone handy. People who don't have the option of having a whole place to themselves and not have to worry about roommate issues or rent or even bad or noisy roommates and neighbors. (my neighborhood is mostly silent aside from the ambient machines at night. I live next to a construction site that only makes noise during the day and the parking lot of AMD.)

And as much as I would love to be able to attribute the point where I'm at right now to my own hard work and perseverance... I can't. Or at least not completely or even mostly for that matter. I somehow had the luck to have been born into the right family, in the right time and place, in the right state of the right country (all right, I'm heavily biased in favor of California), into a good combination of race and socio-economic standing and somehow got lucky with my choice of college and major/field of work combination and somehow managed to land a decent job, with a family that could support me with the choices I made. It wasn't until recently that I realized how much my parents have managed to safeguard me from every potential life setback I might've had to deal with and even now still continue to do so. All in exchange for simply being a "good son."

I'm not going to make this a full rant or output of what I happen to personally think about the verdict that came out over the weekend like others have already done, although that in some sense has been tangentially related to this. It was difficult to just read a lot of the reactions that have come out, but the point of the matter being, inequality has become more of a touchy subject for me ever since college, to read about and discuss and see happen everyday if I choose to notice it. Since ethnic identity small group, even though we might not have gone into that much depth on it that often. And since meeting people with lot more variety in background than the few friends I had back home... which was part of the reason I wanted to get the hell out of there in the first place. Not that I hated it down there- I just couldn't see myself living the rest of my life in that setting.

Of course, turning my face away from signs of privilege doesn't take away the fact that I still am privileged. My current living situation pretty much establishes that I'm under the hold of and completed indebted to my family (and gives certain people even more incentive to call me "rich boy"), and my everyday concerns as of late have mostly revolved around "what will I do after work this week" or "what should I eat today" among other things. I have relatively little to complain about my job compared to some of my friends. I've pretty much got enough space to myself to do whatever I feel like, which is kind of a haven for a total introvert like me. My biggest expenses these days tend to revolve around books because I finally have a bookshelf oh wait I need another one, or engagements with people like eating out or seeing theater productions or other stuff, and people have called me out for being fancy and going out everywhere all the time.

Why are you surprised? This is Ryan we're talking about.

I feel almost tentative or hesitant about inviting people over to my place, even though it'd be a great idea, because- particularly with church folks or people who I know through those circumstances- I don't want to be judged by how much I have. Even with the friends that have been to my family's house back in socal, it took one look for one of them to remark, "This explains a lot," which became applicable again when we went walking downtown. And I don't entirely know what "a lot" would mean in this context, but it's probably not that hard to guess. I wasn't fazed too much by it at the time, but the further that time passes, the more that it keeps coming back as a reminder of how different my upbringing has been from even the people I hang out with now.

It's in part because of the way I grew up that I've felt hesitant to try and engage in a community further removed from my economic status. In a decent church context it sometimes is a bit easier to do so, but it doesn't always work out that well in practice without certain preparation which is another story. This might mostly stem from my own personal apprehension, though... because of how jarring it would be to move back and forth between my privileged life at home and the world of the impoverished, and because I was raised to distrust strangers and random folks on the street and those who tend to be in want of money. But wouldn't it make more sense to follow that calling that everyone else talks about, to give up what I have and live in community with those in need?

Yes, I know it's not as simple as that. Inequality is a complex problem with no easy or one-size-fits-all sufficient solution, that is further enforced by the environment we live in and the systems that we have set up. My privileged life is but one small cog in a machine that seeks to preserve itself at the expense of the opportunity of others, so long as I continue to allow it to function that way. These are ideas or personal truths so to speak that have somehow ingrained in my head over time through the influence of the opinions of others, through personal experiences since college and just paying attention every once in a while. And yet I continue on, occasionally wondering what the hell am I doing with my life because where I am now doesn't fit in with the ideals I built up for myself over the years, but otherwise living life complacently from the comforts of my home. I remember saying I wanted to be "stable but not stagnant" a few years ago, and now the second-half reverse of that has come true just like some stupid self-fulfilling prophecy.

I'll admit that this guilt and my desire to distance myself from my position of privilege is largely pride-motivated, because of all of the times I've been called out by friends and others alike for being rich or part of the 1% or whatever, and seriously guys please stop it I get it already. But part of it is also because some of the people I've admired the most have had less to make do with (or quite frankly, been poorer) than me, and after all Jesus did say, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." And it makes sense. Those who have had less in life have had insight into truths and a wisdom greater than the rest of us aspiring middle-class folks could fathom, and I've only heard this mostly second-hand from people who genuinely do care for and interact with them.

This privilege and opportunities I've had up to this point have been a gift, a present I don't particularly deserve more than anyone else but borne off of the hard labor and luck of my family and circumstances that even they didn't have full control over. And it ought to be something I can use not merely to benefit my own life, but to work against the disparity and injustice that I see regularly when I actually pay attention properly. It's my hope that I don't continue to live in this constant sense of guilt or shame for having more, but that I can actually do something good because of it.

I just need the focus and the planning and the direction right now... and I say this while my head is still abuzz from playing Front Mission 5 last night and wanting to see what happens next already as I finally finished the Kiribati section and am now in the Indochina conflict. Bah, wants, needs, decisions, priorities, and blog posts. What a messy combination. And how is it dinnertime already?

So I let my mind wander a bit and that's how easy it is to be distracted from your life goals. But alas, I've got work to do.

(Berlin post is on the way soon. Just been lazy about uploading for the past while... I'll get to it.)

Dream Post #48

Last night I dreamed that I went rock climbing with Jade and Olivia, only to find myself stranded in SF and pickpocketed and losing all my credit cards, and in my panic unable to write down any phone numbers I looked up on my phone because I was so nervous and kept having to erase what I wrote.

The night before that, dreamed that my family and I were about ready to go to hell (which is in Greece if you didn't know), until at the last minute when I said "oh wait, I still have to live right now" and was allowed to pass by and go to the restroom where we somehow lost Mom and got trapped at that port in Greece forever.

I hate my dreams nowadays.

Gent, Belgium

On first day out, we stopped at the town of Zeebrugge in Belgium. In retrospect there wasn't really a whole lot to see compared to the other ports- I think it was meant to be more of an intro/lighter port seeing as how it was the day after we boarded, and in fact some of the passengers actually boarded from Belgium, but I was sort of caught up in the excitement of it being the first site to see that I didn't care much. Zeebrugge is more of a port/industrial town with only a few tourist sites that we passed by on the bus; the actual tour that we took this day was to Gent (Ghent? the locals seem to spell it without the h), about an hour away, for a rather pretty but short hour long canal ride through the city. (the only thing I remember about the bus ride was not seeing any moving cars anywhere... but it was Sunday morning and Belgian people like to sleep in too.)

About to take a TAXIBOOT.

One of the passengers from Belgium told us about college [which sounded like high school] and gymnasium [which sounded like college], except I have no idea how accurate that actually is considering I just tried to look it up and I don't see any sign of it. One of those might actually have been trade/vocational school, though.

A lot of the sights in Belgium actually foreshadowed or marked the beginning of trends that I'd notice recur repeatedly in later ports; I suppose in part a sign of how the people of Europe are pretty closely related to each other even though their nationhoods are distinct. Distance wise, this trip felt like traveling from the west to the east coast of the US, only everyone speaks a different language and culturally share less in common even though they still share something. I think I was more surprised by the number of trends that repeated themselves.

Examples:

- Windmills. Lots and lots of windmills, some seemingly over the ocean.

- Also in the picture, really gloomy weather. It rained at every single port in the trip at some point during the day.

- Canals in the city. I really wish there were more cities in America nearby that had canals like the ones in each of the cities we visited. They make everything so pretty.

- Shared religious heritage. Christianity has had a major impact on the development of each of the countries we visited, and incidentally the majority of the tourist sites we visited happened to be cathedrals. Belgium was actually one of the few places where we didn't enter a cathedral, but in place of that we did pass by an old monastery on the canal. The majority denominations of the areas we visited were either Protestant (particularly Lutheran, since the Reformation happened in Germany) or Eastern Orthodox, moreso the latter the closer we got to Russia. What few Catholic churches we came across had been converted for use by the other denominations, but I'll get to that  in a later post.

- St. Michael beating the dragon. This motif shows up in multiple countries; I'll point it out a couple of times later if I can find more pics. The first time I saw this sculpture, I misconstrued what the tour guide said (as he'd been talking about a different subject seconds before) as "the patron saint of the monastic beer brewers of Belgium, St. Michael, beating a dragon." Or maybe the beer brewers of Belgium did decide to adopt Michael as their patron saint after all. The reference itself is to Michael the archangel defeating the dragon during the war in heaven in the book of Revelation.

- Technically a combination of the last two, but reinterpreting Christian motifs and symbols within the country's cultural context. Which for Belgium's case I guess is the beer brewers and their patron saint. Belgians really love their beer. (and their chocolate and their waffles.)

- Odd expressions of egotism in history. I just thought of this one on the spot, and I say odd because... well, it might just be the fact that I grew up in a different age/culture, but some of the things the medieval Europeans did are just plain weird or crazy.

- non-handicap friendly restrooms and sites. I don't know how all of the wheelchair-bound people we saw on the ship got around at the ports... well technically, there were handicap friendly excursions available for purchase, but most of the major sites they mention at these ports aren't exactly that, so I dunno what they'd end up seeing.

- Families of ducks. okay, maybe just because I'm weird and love taking pictures of ducks. Just wait till we get to Copenhagen...

Anyways, this tour was the shortest one of the trip as it mostly consisted of the canal ride. I wasn't taking notes or too many photos at this point so I'll just note some of the random things I saw on the boat besides the ones already mentioned:

they have to cut the branches off the trees every year, or else the trees die. don't quite understand how that works naturally... unless they've just been trying to prolong the lifespan of these trees so that it looks pretty/ordered.

"and to your left you will see a naked man about to jump off." totally confused the hell out of me at first. (it's a statue.)

"and a naked woman on the other side."

replica of a barge used back in the day. apparently this one was horse drawn. O_o (and in other cases the guide mentioned the captain having his wife tow the boat because it was cheaper than a horse.)

open air book market on a Sunday morning along the canal. I wish I were over there right now.

I believe this used to be a Catholic monastery. during the iconoclast riots after the Reformation they threw books out of the windows (or I'm guessing anything with an icon on it. because Protestants hate icons.) to the point where it was apparently possible to walk across the canal without getting your feet wet. also was converted to a textile factory afterwards.

guide says this is a good chocolate store in belgium. take note.

to paraphrase the guide: typical Belgium, showcases a cannon that doesn't actually work properly and is more dangerous to stand behind of when firing than in front of.

the castle of the counts. inspired by the castles of other countries, the count (Philip of Alsace) came back from the second crusade and decided to build one for himself to showcase his... ferociousness or something. except it was too cold to live in so it only got used for administrative purposes while he slept somewhere else. and eventually got converted into a textile factory like every other historical building in this city.

After the canal tour, we had an hour of free time to explore an area around the center of the city called Korenlei... which happened to have a few chocolate shops (not pictured.)

view of the square at Korelei.

bathroom break at the Meat House.

we passed by a glass enclosure (on the left) of belgian people eating lunch who stared back awkwardly at us as we gaped about trying to find the restroom... which was upstairs and had absolutely no lights, so it was almost impossible to see anything save for the one window in the public sink area.

no trip to belgium is complete without having actual belgian waffles. in belgium! oh and I almost got run over by a street bus as I was running over to this window. seriously, who puts public transit tracks directly in front of a vendor like this? granted, there were no sidewalks here as the streets were entirely cobblestone.

all I recall here is something about a fish market where people used to bury their dead underneath because there was a church next door, and they believed that the closer you were buried to a church the more likely you would end up in heaven... which meant discovering a bunch of skeletons in a bad condition in the basement here centuries later. the church next door also smelled really badly because of all the dead bodies buried beneath it - only the filthy rich could afford to be buried there, so naturally it smelled like filth.

another view of Korenlei from the bridge.

And then we got back on the canal for the last stretch to head back to the bus.

I have no idea what this is but it looks pretty.

Another view of the barge from the opposite side.

All in all, it was a pretty decent tour, even though it wasn't as long or involving as the ones that followed in later days. Considering how long it took to make this post, though, I have no idea how the later ports are going to turn out. -_-

I decided to make a Flickr account (1 terabyte of storage for free is pretty cool) to upload and organize the pics this time. I didn't include all of them in this post, so the link to the full set will be added at the end of this and subsequent posts. I'm somewhat dreading St. Petersburg now...

But anyway, next stop: Berlin!

full photoset.