A Great Social Success Is A Pretty Girl Who Plays Her Cards As Carefully As If She Were Plain

Dear Hank. As I was reading, I had a revelation: without the little voice in your head, you couldn't read, couldn't think, etc. Do you know how to explain that little voice?? Am I hearing my own voice, but in my head? If so, do toddlers have that voice in their head when processing information? How is this little voice generated? I confused myself asking these questions, so I'm not sure that I've fully gotten what I've asked across. But it mostly is: what is this voice and how did it get there?

The little voice is a construction your mind uses to analyze itself and the world. The little voice saying all of its little words is the culmination of billions of years of evolution and hundreds of thousands of years of culture. The little voice is both you and the thing that created you. No one understands the little voice. It’s probably best not to think too much about it.

Ceaselessly changing

When are we ready, grown-up, clever or wise? Is there a certain phase, defined by scholars of past ages?

Human societies are all about metamorphosis: we always want to transfigure into something we think is sublime. And we very often succeed in our efforts, however, this just opens our eyes to see how vast the unknown is. I don't mean it scientifically; it's meant to be understood in the most artsy way you can imagine, I'm not going to be pretentious though, I'm just in the mood.

The past three or four months have really brought a wave of revelations and I caught a glimpse of the magnitude of the lack of knowledge about grand things I have. I'm well-aware this is terribly confusing but it's difficult for me to put my feelings into words, still, I'm compelled to give it my best shot.

Returning to my greatly eventful time, I must admit it was not at all eventful. All it was is just a period of trying my wings, seeing if I can fly. But I can't, there's just no way I could challenge the gravity and all laws of physics. I mean this, again, in a metaphorical way.

I've read books that showed me a new side of literature, I've seen movies that changed my thinking about film-making, I've had conversations that introduced me to a more humane side that people tend to conceal and I've revisited my early infatuations and through all of these things I've come to realise a great thing. I'm much less like me and much more like you -- like the entirety of us, humans. Through these things I began to understand myself more and more, to appreciate the world and each person around me.

This is an eternally complex and beautiful world. We have so little time to explore it and yet, we can always return to anything and enjoy it as if it was the first time of trying it out. We're so very close to death. But it's okay. I don't mind it because I believe that I will have emptied what fate has in store for me till my last day on Earth and what else could I wish above that? Another life? No, I'll pass. But I'll gladly go to Heaven :)

I'm in love again. In love with the Spring, the Day, Learning, Words and Actions, Traveling and You. I hope you're reading this because I'm madly in love with you Baby :)

Tarsem’s The Fall #2 - Immersion

In this series I’m exploring the reasons why Tarsem’s “The Fall” is my favorite movie.

Seeing a movie for the first time can be awfully important because as the viewer goes along with the story they build up their attitudes, which will hardly change later. Now this doesn’t apply in all cases, since many art films heavily rely on alienation, absurdity and obscurity, all these undermining the importance of the first time, as the case is often that the conception and solidification of attitudes and a deeper understanding of the experience come later. In fact we regularly process movies after the event, however this is usually more of an adjustment in the case of genre movies.

One feature that I find overarching The Fall is its generosity and it is present and foremost here, in the field of immersion, as well as in many other places. The Fall, being an independent film with an R rating, didn’t have very much to win by being as viewer-friendly as it ended up being. My argument is that this film is enjoyable and not at all puzzling at the first time viewing but it serves an artistic purpose and not popularity.

I found two interconnected parts of the film that helped it accomplish this feat.

#1: Placing us in Alexandria’s point of view. First off, a child seems a relatable protagonist, since everyone has been one. Her being in a hospital with a broken arm seems like nothing out of the ordinary; even if one has never had a broken bone, there’s nothing predominantly exotic about it.

#2: The narrative arc is gradual. To delay the exposure of the audience to the more powerful motifs of a film is a hard thing to do because it requires confidence in the script and performances and high payoff value expectation. As I mentioned in the previous paragraph, the story’s starting point is very familiar and seemingly simple. When we are shown the characters and their depths, the movie follows a classic formula: we start with more mundane details and progressively move toward the more dramatic. A juxtaposition: in today’s storytelling it’s more common to try to shock the viewer early on and thus induce an immediate and strong emotional response.

The Fall follows through with this approach of gradual expansion on every layer, e.g. Roy’s story starts out as an independent tale, which is very safe and light, then it becomes inseparable with their reality and concerns the darkest and hardest topics around the end. In this narrative mode the audience is granted safety from confusion, as there’s an obvious story on the top that is entertaining in itself. At the same time, however, the more profound layers of the film, through being concentrated in the later parts, can be encountered without the deception that sudden shocks and an ensuing emotional chaos would have caused. Thus I think the art in The Fall is exquisitely genuine and can be experienced as such, which is a very rare merit.

In the past few years my activity on tumblr has been irregular. I have written original posts but also did a great deal of reblogging and quoting, which are both very nice but are not why I want to have a blog. For me it’s a place for intellectual exercise and an outlet of thoughts. I want to be more focused here to chisel my mind and crystallize my opinions and thoughts, therefore I will make an attempt at returning to exclusively post original content and I want to be more committed. If I could write here everyday I’d be thrilled but that’s probably way too much to be crammed into my schedule--which I admit is not full momentarily but airy spaces of time for relaxation are what keep me mentally fit so I don’t intend to deprive myself of them.

This is it for now, writing it down only so that I will be more motivated to follow through.

does the job

Quickly threw this together and it instantly made me feel less anxious so it might help some of you idek

Do not speak unless you can improve upon the silence.

Quaker saying (via austinkleon)

(actually it’s a communication principle based on Kant’s maxims but yeah, way to go)

An Open Letter to TFioS

Dear TFioS,

I got you for Christmas and I watched you in the movie-theater last Saturday and I like you. I like you but that doesn’t mean I don’t have something to say to you.

Of course your unorthodox and irreverent plot is refreshing and it really talks to people in many ways. This is somehing that people are craving—what I personally am craving and thank you for being this way. A book review said that you are “damn near genius” and you are so. It sounds like a huge compliment (one that I’ve never received, so I sort of envy you for it) but this isn’t the greatest one, which would be:”it’s genius”. John Green is made of awesome and so are you, TFioS, still, neither of you are made of genius. Let me elaborate:

#1: Is the fault really in our stars? John Rawls would probably congratulate you on the fine point you have made about how nature is creating random inequality and unfairness. What mindless animal would one have to be to say that it is fair what Hazel and Gus went through, none of it out of their own making or desert? Their example—and the title really—shows what a great fault there is in what our lot is in life. It would have been fair if Hazel and Gus’ cancer was given to an evil mass-murderer—yeah, I don’t really mean that; no one should get cancer, ever. You tell it wondrously that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, this sort of pain is unbearably immense. Everyone deserves the same and that same would be a normal life, which is free of disease, free of tragedy, free of all sorts of bad things. Everyone deserves it because of human dignity, which is everybody’s. When Gus calls Hazel to the petrol station to help him because he got very sick, we get to see the unromanticized version of dying from cancer, which is the true version of dying: painful and miserable. This whole thing is an attempt to introduce us—through characters we get to care about and truly heartbraking events happening to them—to the reality of undeserved suffering in the world. I used the word:”undeserved”, but is it really? It would also be fair if everyone on earth was suffering the same as these kids, wouldn’t it? As I’ve said before, only a terrible person would say that, and that’s because of human dignity. And where does that come from? One could say that:”Yes, people do terrible things sometimes but no one deserves to suffer or experience pain.” Such a statement would be based on the concept of dignity, which’ existence we can only assume, following our moral compass, our feelings. Naturally, I wouldn’t say that there’s no such a thing as human dignity or that I want to see someone go through this hell. My point is that the origin of dignity is not inspected thoroughly and it cannot be a groundless assumption. If we built on it, first we’d need to see why it’s an unshakable foundation. 

#2: Infinities are problematic. I’m not going to discuss the mathematical inexactitude of your statement about the size of the infinity between 0 and 1 compared to the one between 0 and 2 because you’ve already apologized for that and also because it doesn’t really matter. At the end of the story, when Hazel remembers her time together with Gus, she is really grateful for their “little infinity”. I suppose she means that their relationship and their experiences were immeasurably valuable, even if smaller in number than the one’s of someone with a greater lifespan. This serves as a poetic and sublime element, though it also implies that even where there is great pain, there’s beauty. But if all that is equal in worth to what other people have, then why is it sad that they have to die? Or is it not sad at all? Is it okay for them to have to go through all that horror and then die so young? It’s rather terrible—or unspeakably terrible. But if only the quantity and the length of beautiful things in life matter, what’s the limit of having a good life? If everyone had the same amount of happiness and the same length of it and an equal lifespan, I suppose that’d count as a good world. But wouldn’t we try to extend the length of our lives if everyone was to live 80 years already? It would be neat if everyone lived for 200 years, wouldn’t it? And if Hazel and Gus were to live 80 years, whereas everyone else 200 years, would that count as a tragedy, too? Is it just the relative length and amount that matters or is it the absolute of them? It seems that both do: we want a relatively and an absolutely longer, richer life. That’s alright, of course. The ultimate thing we would settle with is infinity—literal infinity, not just the allegorical one. To have Hazel be grateful for what they shared is really awesome, my point is really what this tells the audience is unclear and/or indefinite.

#3: Where’s that extra mile? When Hazel and Gus are talking about what comes after death, I thought some conclusion would be made. Okay, there was actually this: even people, who believe in something transcendent aren’t necessarily morons. Thanks, I appreciate it, but whether or not there’s an afterlife, or whether or not God exists, these are sort of important questions. Especially when you’re so conscious about your imminent death. The whole thing is understandable, of course, since to someone who is not a believer, it’s obvious that there’s no Heaven, no Lord, no nothing, yet I was extremely let down, when Gus said that there has to be a point to it all and Hazel’s reply was about the overall pointlessness of everything AND then no distinct conclusion, apart from what’s above. It’s nice of you not to take away the hopes of christians though. But to make two teenagers so profound as Hazel and Gus are and then just let them be diplomatic about the point (or the pointlessness) of being is just lazy. It’s popular to think that a writer’s duty is to ask important questions but it is also their duty to offer answers to important questions and not be like:”Yeah, ‘A’ might be the ultimate truth, but whoever says ‘B’ is it, well, yeah, they’re totally cool to say that.”

Okay, TFioS, I’m sorry for criticizing you, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings or something. You are a beautiful book—you never forgot to be awesome. Thank you for existing and thank you for feeling the pain of everybody, especially of those who feel the greatest pain.

Best wishes,

B

P.S.: Okay.

How to be afraid

Be afraid that you'll drop-out from school and you'll never find another one where you can fit in. Be utterly frightened that your book will never be published and that it's rubbish. Be genuinely fearful of the fact that your body can break-down in any minute because you have a disease that you think you're "too young for". Be worried about never finding a proper job. Be scared of never finishing anything. Be completely, undeniably and irreversebly drenched with fear and worries.

It's 00:12 here, in my parents' kitchen, where I write these lines, while listening to some classy music, that I invited to create the illusion of uppercase-life. But all this, around me, is built on I don't know what. I'm supposed to know, I ought to know but somehow I feel struck by worries. I've been the guy who never felt fear, the one who never regretted failure. But the ground has been shrinking under my feet and I wasn't paying attention and now I'm just floating in nothing. I feel miserable and defeated. My body is broken and so is my spirit. I know I shouldn't give in to the circumstances but I feel vulnerable and hurt. I'm immensely frightened.

Oh goodness, why am I saying this nonsense? This attitude in itself is the manifestation of everything I am against. The Bible says I should pray and do it with a thankful heart. It's extremely hard to do. But not impossible. I'm thankful for the love of my life (yes, I know we're young). I can't express how thankful I am for the promise of eternal life. This is something, that most of you can't put your fingers on. Well neither can I. But I feel that it is not a lie or fantasy. I believe because I have this splinter in my soul, shrieking: YOU'RE SAVED. And I am, indeed. My faith is not the one of the weak. It's the one of humans. Because none of us can fight or trick death. We all are subjects to it. We all are limited and vulnerable. We are creations. I find my hope and basically my life in the Creator of all of us. Even in these times. So, cheer up :)

Timing living

I've been all about timing lately. If it was up to me, I'd live the rest of my life in one week. But of course it's futile thinking.

A very successful man was lecturing last Saturday, and he was giving business and life-leading tips. There was one point in his speech, which grabbed my attention and it found its way to deep inside my head: there are things, which we would urge but it is not YET time for them.

Yesterday (last night) I read the Bible, book of Esther, and the main motive, which I noticed is, that in that historical period, everything was going according to a plan. The participants of the story must have been just as lost, as I feel sometimes but looking at their whole life ine one, I must admit, that every little step had its own meaning and importance.

Maybe life is like a house, where every brick has a number on them, determining where they must be put. If we were to try to put the bricks not in order, the whole building would simply collapse... There's only one way to make it right: in order, step by step.

:)

Extreme close-ups of human eyes by Suren Manvelyan