Sometimes the Bandwagon is Right

I generally don't like jumping on the bandwagon. I often avoid things that are trendy. I don't like to be seen as just "following the crowd". I suppose that these are natural human tendencies, that because of the individualistic nature of our society, many of us feel this need to strike out on our own, to be unique, to loathe the idea of being a follower. Every once in a while, however, I have to ask myself if I am avoiding something that I actually believe in simply because it is a trend. I debated over whether or not to change my profile picture to show my support for marriage equality. My first reaction was to reject the idea, simply because a lot of people were doing it. Nevertheless, I weighed this against how much I felt that I agreed with the sentiment. I very much stand behind marriage equality for all. Luckily, I live in Canada, where gay marriage is already recognized under the law. That said, it might seem a moot point whether I show my support or not. But I don't think it is. It's easy to take for granted these sorts of rights living in Canada. When you think about countries where a person can be put to death simply for being homosexual, it is a sharp reminder to cherish our culture of tolerance, imperfect though it may be. I am happy to show my support today, to remember that I live in a country more tolerant than many others. I don't know the difference, if any, this will make. But I want to be vocal about my support to let others who share my views see that it is okay to speak loudly about this issue, and to let those who don't share them know where I stand. Sometimes it's okay to follow the crowd, if the crowd is already going somewhere I want to go.

A crisis of faith...

       I have had a crisis of faith recently. I'm feeling lost in a sea of decisions. For a long time I accepted one truth and followed one creed, and this left me feeling secure and safe. There was never any need to question, because the answers were already given before I had need of asking. But suddenly things are different; certainty has turned to doubt, blind trust to questions. I have spent the last week frantically doing research, hoping to gain back my trust in what I always accepted as right; unfortunately, what started as simple curiosity has only been exacerbated by these investigations, and I am face to face with the possibility of walking away from an organization to which I have adhered so tenaciously for 5 years. I know that, should I make this choice, it will not be easy. I am preparing myself to be ostracized by family and friends, to be subject to ridicule via Facebook and Twitter. With such harsh punishment in store for me I have to be absolutely positive that it will be worth it. I have to know this for sure in order to walk into the Rogers store with my head head held high and tell them that I am switching from the iPhone to an Android.
     
       Of course this seems all a bit dramatic for a simple switch from one brand to another. And of course I am being a bit facetious, and those of you who are acquainted with me know that I tend toward the hyperbolic. Nevertheless, the feelings that I experienced in first doing research on non-Apple phones were very close to those that I describe above. In simply looking into phones that were not the iPhone, I literally felt guilty and unfaithful. I felt that the late Steve Jobs was looking down on me (up at me?) disapprovingly. Less than one week ago I was happy, but less than one week ago I saw an advertisement for the Samsung Galaxy Nexus. In retrospect, I know that I would have been spared the anguish I have felt had I simply ignored this ad the way I usually do. But it is too late. Since then I have been reading internet tech reviews and watching videos on YouTube that give demonstrations of this phone specifically and of Android phones in general. I have become convinced that while Apple indeed set the initial bar for all smartphones, they have not been doing so lately and have let Android slip into the bar-setting position.
     
       I am not going to give any kind of break down of iPhone vs. Android here, and I am not going to attempt to lead any devout Apple followers away from their faith, that's not my style. I want to pose a question. Why is it feel like such blasphemy simply to switch brands? Did I cry myself to sleep when Starbucks was closed and I bought a coffee from McDonald's instead? No. Will anyone ostracize me if I shop at Superstore instead of Safeway? I hope not. Why then, all this drama? I believe I have found an answer this query. I have said for some time now that successful religions use marketing techniques in order to be so successful. I have realized I was in error there. It is not that religions market themselves like companies precisely, but that companies have learned to market themselves like religions. When somebody believes something, there is nothing you can do to convince them otherwise. Apple has taken this and made it into a marketing technique. You believe in Apple, you believe(d) in Steve Jobs, you believe in what they offer you, and 100 reviews that say another product is better won't shake your faith.

       Today is the day. Today I will activate a phone that is not an iPhone, and in doing so, of course, deactivate my iPhone. It may be difficult. I may have to take a moment or two to bid farewell to a good friend. My iPhone has been with me through a lot. It has settled disputes at parties, it has helped me find my way in an unfamiliar city, it has made church almost bearable. However, it is beginning to get tired and it will be grateful for the rest; and of course it really isn't being thrown away but rather demoted from iPhone to iPod Touch, meaning that it will still be able to perform those same services, provided there is WiFi present.

Gabe

Like running into an old friend...

       It had been almost a year, and so I decided to watch the movie Stranger Than Fiction for probably the 8th or 9th time. Sometimes before I watch a film that I have seen many times before I wonder to myself if this is going to be the time that the movie stops speaking to me, or if on this occasion I won’t weep at the end, or if during this watching the movie will just sit there and I will feel nothing. This has happened a few times in the past; a movie that I loved so much the first or second time I saw it will suddenly just sit there, empty, without anything in it that I loved before. And this occurs more than ever during a semester such as this one: a semester three quarters full of literature classes. Poring over texts for hours each week trying to find meaning and structure and patterns can lower my tolerance for weakly written dialogue, predictable story lines, or (one of my biggest pet-peeves in a film) the attempt to elicit an emotional response with the death of an under-developed character. The tendency to analyze and deconstruct everything cannot always be switched off the moment you leave the classroom.

       With all this in mind, when I pressed play on the remote control, I felt some slight apprehension at the possibility of one of my favorite films losing some of its shine. However, I am happy to report that this fear was not realized. There was no disenchantment this time. If anything, the over-analyzing and deconstructing only helped me discover little things I had never seen or been aware of before. I felt renewed, and once again drawn into the strange twists in the story and the amazingly endearing character of Harold Crick. I was enchanted anew with even the premise of the film, in which a character of a story becomes aware that he is indeed a character in a story. The moment when Harold first hears the voice of the narrator describing his actions as he completes them is one of my favorites scenes, not only in this film, but of films in general, starting from the moment of hearing her to her pronouncement of his imminent death. I love the balance between Harold and the narrator advancing the story in turn, neither of them ever being 100 percent in control of the plot. I love the levels of dramatic irony between the two of them and how they gradually become aware of each other’s existence, and how this awareness itself changes the outcome of the story. I love the idea of a wristwatch as a palpable character in the story, a character that advances the plot, a character that thinks and feels.

       After tonight I have no worries about Stranger Than Fiction ever being relegated to the piles of movies for which the thrill is gone. I know that on each viewing I will feel the same attachment to Harold Crick, and that I will cry every time he accepts his fate and chooses to face death even after reading the conclusion to his own story.

A fine line between intelligent and smart-arse...

       I posted a status on Facebook the other day about an exchange between my son and me. I've been thinking about it since then and I want to share it in a little more detail. We had been driving around town for a while running errands and had just pulled up to our apartment building. I was listening to a song that I was really into at the moment, so I waited to turn off the car and get out for a moment in order to finish the song. Beckham was a little impatient after being in and out of the car all day and said to me, "Dad, can you come and unbuckle me?" "Just a second," I say, "I want to finish this song before we go in." He thinks about this for a brief second before asking me, "Do you have this song on your computer?" "Yes," I reply. "Well you can listen to it when we get inside. Come and unbuckle me please." I had mixed reactions at this point. Part of me was ready to give him a time out for talking back like that, but the for the most part I was pretty impressed at his thought process. After being a bit speechless for a moment I said, "Well I can't argue with that logic, buddy. Let's go."

       I can't be too surprised by this response from my son. He is an intelligent kid and I've always known that there's a fine line between smart and smart-ass. I was generally a pretty respectful kid, but if there was anything I was guilty of it was being a bit lippy from time to time. I had a run-in or two with a teacher in high school when I felt that I was right and they were wrong. It's a hard line to navigate; I want my son to think and explore and question authority, yes, but of course from time time he is going to question mine. I don't think it's possible to have a reasonably smart kid without their questioning authority at times. You can't have it both ways. This is not to say that Beckham is a genius. What he is is someone who thinks a lot and this is evidenced by stories such as this one. While he does whine occasionally when he doesn't get his way, I am happy to say that for the most part he tries his best to come up with a logical argument to support his case. Unfortunately for him I was not swayed the other day by his claim that he needed an equal number of Transformer toys at both his houses, and that he had three at his mom's house and only one at mine. I have the benefit of being the dad and just saying no without any explanation. I know, however, that as gets older his arguments are going to become more mature and that both his mother and I will receive phone calls from upset teachers occasionally; nevertheless, if I had to choose between an intelligent child that talks-back and a less intelligent one that never questions anything, it's an easy decision. And like I've always said, better a smart-ass than a dumb-ass.

Voy a intentar...

       Al empezar a escribir un blog de nuevo, me doy cuenta de deber escribir a veces en Español. No es que yo conozca a muchos y muchos que hablen español, es, más bien, una buena oportunidad de practicar mi español y, espero que sí, de mejorar mi español. Este semestre tengo 3 clases de español y tengo que escribir muchos ensayos y comentarios. Creo que es muy importante que yo esté escribiendo siempre. A veces necesito expresarme. Y es más, a veces es importante que yo me exprese con más que 140 letras, (entonces Twitter no me basta en estas veces) y con más que unas frases (entonces Facebook no me basta tampoco). En estas veces necesito un blog. Sin embargo, es probable que yo vaya a poner este enlace en los dos Twitter y Facebook. 

       Me gustan los suspensivos en títulos. Me hacen pensar que el autor dijo solamente la mitad de lo que pensaba, y dejó el resto para mi imaginación. Así es que les propongo con el título de este blog en general, y con el título de este artículo particular. Lo dejo con nosotros para que hagan el resto con sus imaginaciones. Y especialmente dado que mi español todavía no es perfecto y es probable que puedan divinar lo que quiero decir a veces. No puedo darles una razón definida porque existe este blog. La mejor razón que puedo darles es la traducción del título: "Sólo porque..." A veces voy a hablar sobre mis vivencias, es posible que vaya discutir la lingüística o la filosofía, pero es seguro que voy a irme por las ramas y olvidarme lo que quiero decir, puedo prometerlo!

       Para mi primer intento de escribir un blog en español voy a dejarles un poema que me gusta mucho. Es de Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. Tuve que leerlo para mi clase de literatura y encontrarme en leerlo otra vez y otra vez. No puedo decirles exactamente lo que quería decir la poetisa. Ella es alguien a quien me gustaría haber conocido. (Pero dudo poder haber comprendido cualquier cosa que ella habría dicho!) Sé solamente que discute la inestable naturaleza de la vida y cómo el arte intenta engañarnos para que creamos que éste representa la vida verdaderamente. Hasta la próxima vez!

Procura desmentir los elogios
que a un retrato de la Poetisa inscribió la verdad,
que llama pasión
Este, que ves, engaño colorido,
que del arte ostentando los primores,
con falsos silogismos de colores
es cauteloso engaño del sentido;
éste, en quien la lisonja ha pretendido
excusar de los años los horrores,
y venciendo del tiempo los rigores,
triunfar de la vejez y del olvido,

es un vano artificio del cuidado,
es una flor al viento delicada,
es un resguardo inútil para el hado;

es una necia diligencia errada,
es un afán caduco y, bien mirado,
es cadáver, es polvo, es sombra, es nada.


PD Si alguien quiere corregirme mi español, no dudes en hacerlo en un comentario. Necesito aprender!

I wanna give this another go...

       I like ending titles for things with ellipses. Whenever I see someone else use one, I feel like they're only saying half of what they were thinking and they're inviting you to fill in the rest. Sot that is what I'm inviting you to do with both the title of this blog in general and with the title of this particular entry as well. I feel like there are so many ways to express oneself these days. Depending on how many words I can express myself in determines the website I will use to do so. If I can fit my musing into 140 characters, Twitter will do just fine. If I need a few more words through which to share my reflections, easy: Facebook. However, sometimes I'm spilling over the top with the need to share and expound, whether anyone listens or not. In these times I turn to a blog.
     

       And that brings us here. This is my second attempt at blogging [web (noun) + log (noun) = weblog (noun) >(clipping) blog (noun) >(zero derivation)  blogging (what a fun little linguistic journey!)]. First, I blogged about Ecuador. This didn't turn out so well, given that I was so busy during that trip that I generally used every spare moment to sleep. But in a fit of optimism I have decided to try again. As I have said, my need to express myself (and sometimes pontificate) cannot always be contained to 140 characters, nor to a Facebook post. Nevertheless, I will probably post a link to this blog on both Twitter and Facebook, and then send texts to several people urging them to check their Facebook and Twitter, thus directing them here. 

       I can't give you a reason for this blog except for what the title says. Just because.... I might talk about my day to day experiences, I'll probably put pictures of the forthcoming baby when s/he arrives, I might discuss some linguistics, but I'll most definitely go off on tangents and then forget where I was going in the first place, that much I can promise.