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"content": "<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">Nearly three years ago, I met a boy who didn’t feel things. He and I called them “doors” — mine were always open, emotions free-flowing whenever I stayed up late to talk to him; and his were always closed, except for moments when my words could pry him open and he felt pinches of things he could name.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">He was strange, and I liked strange people. He invested in conversation and that’s how I knew he would probably get it. People who appreciate words usually get it.\u00a0Now, pay close attention.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:center;\"><a title=\"Untitled by Sabino ., on Flickr\" href=\"http:\/\/www.flickr.com\/photos\/noquedanfotos\/5013232226\/\"><img style=\"padding:0;\" alt=\"Untitled\" src=\"http:\/\/farm5.staticflickr.com\/4087\/5013232226_5c0a9d11bd_z.jpg\" width=\"640\" height=\"428\" \/><br \/>\nSabino<\/a><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">One afternoon we were talking about time and how time is, essentially, a concept. Everything about time is a hundred-percent man-made, from the clock to the calendar and the idea of seconds and years. As we guessed at how the first person invented it, we tried to define time in terms of things that actually <em>were<\/em> rather than things that were <em>supposed<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">Are you still with me? If we were talking about, maybe algebra, we’d have to define unknown values in terms of something that is sure before we can go on. And that’s what we were trying to do. We were trying to prove the nature of time–something we weren’t sure really existed–by recreating it with parts that we were sure of. Parts like change.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">Now, change is scientific. When we get down to the subatomic (or whatever the smallest unit is these days, I’m not sure) level, everything changes. There are poems going around saying that our bodies change completely every six months or seven years; and while I’m not sure if that’s absolutely true, the point of the matter is that everything moves.\u00a0Even in an empty room, things happen. Dust gathers, air moves. I don’t know much about space, but my romantic notions of stars mean that I imagine space as changing and moving too. Everything changes.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">Everything.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">So he and I decided that time was nothing more than the unit at which change took place.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">And we said what if, hypothetically, we could have a room where <em>absolutely nothing<\/em> moved? There was no air, dust and\u00a0mold\u00a0didn’t gather, atoms for some reason didn’t move, nothing breathed or grew old, and everything was incredibly and perfectly still. Would time exist in this little room?<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">Obviously, there was no way to make our little experiment happen. But we chose to believe that time didn’t happen in that room because change didn’t happen in that room. That was comforting because, within the expanses of our ignorance, we made believe a supposed impossibility. We made time stop existing, at least in theory. Or maybe just in our imagination.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:center;\"><a title=\"Alice in Wonderland: White Rabbit - No Time to Say Hello, Goodbye... by Brandon Christopher Warren, on Flickr\" href=\"http:\/\/www.flickr.com\/photos\/brandoncwarren\/4236278556\/\"><img style=\"padding:0;border:none;box-shadow:none;\" alt=\"Alice in Wonderland: White Rabbit - No Time to Say Hello, Goodbye...\" src=\"http:\/\/farm5.staticflickr.com\/4064\/4236278556_cef6edb710_z.jpg\" width=\"640\" height=\"427\" \/><br \/>\nBrandon Christopher Warren<\/a><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">Now, I split this train into two.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">First: I know you probably aren’t reading this, M, but I want to pretend that you are. When you left, you didn’t say goodbye, but you did say you would be gone for two years. Well, it’s been two years. And I realize we never talked about how much change could happen in that much time. Or whether you would come back to see it.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">I’ve changed. I bet you have, too. But you’re still the strangest person I know, although I’ve tried hard to find someone close. I wonder if you still don’t feel much. I still feel too much, and I remember you all the time, M. I’m sure you’ll get it. You always got it better than nearly anyone did. I hope that doesn’t change either, no matter how much time passes by.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\">Second: in a daydream, somebody asked me what I would like to do if I could stop time for a little while. I brought back this time-theory to mind and I decided I couldn’t answer that question because, as long as I’m still doing something, then time is still passing by.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:justify;\"><span style=\"font-size:13px;\">Instead, I asked my daydream friend if feelings counted as change, as something happening, moving, or being done. 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"content": "<p>Something happened this weekend that will change my life and I’m having a hard time trying to determine if it’s tragedy or a really weird intervention. My second favorite place in the world to be, my home away from home, a used music store called CD Warehouse, closed it’s doors. For the past five years I’d gone there once a week with a five dollar bill and some change in my pocket. Sometimes I would just look, other times I would find a gem and lay down my money. Most of the time I enjoyed the moments alone with music.<\/p>\n<p>The music business hates people like me. I’m a freak to them because I actually listen to entire CDs or albums, and my tastes are way outside the bounds of Top 40 pop, modern country, and rap. So when I wanted to buy something from an Indie band or a 1990s alternative group or get really crazy and replace one of my scratched 1970s or 1980s punk CDs, I’d make the short drive to the place I privately called “The Five”, and make a purchase. I never spent more than five dollars and whatever the change was. I also looked at the entire selections, A-Z. I even made mental notes as to what I might get the next time. I became so familiar with the place that the two guys who ran it knew me by name, color of my car, and even asked about my wife, who occasionally shopped for movies there.<\/p>\n<p>I don’t think I can treat “The Five’s” demise as a death or\u00a0even a tragedy. It’s a record store. It’s an anachronism. That’s like bemoaning the disappearance of a typewriter repair store. I know I should be buying everything digitally. My teenage daughter does that and she tells me how dumb I am for getting in a car and driving to a store to get bulky CDs. But the experience was as much fun as the music I got. You can probably guess, correctly, that I’ve seen movies like Empire Records and High Fidelity many times. To a lesser degree, I am John Cusack’s character from High Fidelity, Rob Gordon, except that I found the right girl, and I can’t stand hanging out with anyone like Jack Black longer than five minutes.<\/p>\n<p>I might as well confess that when I drove into the parking lot and read the sign “CD Warehouse has closed”, I punched my steering wheel then drove across the street to Target. I had ten bucks and some change on me and I bought an R.E.M. best of 1982-1987 “I Feel Fine CD, and a Three Dog Night greatest hits. They were replacements for old scratched CDs in my collection, and I was just coming off an anxiety attack so the perfect storm was what it was.<\/p>\n<p>I don’t have the first clue what I’ll do now that there is not a used\/secondhand music store near where I live. In fact, there isn’t one in my county. I’ll probably break down and have my 17-year-old know-it-all daughter show me how to download music to my computer and I’ll create a library that I can burn CDs from to listen to in the car. My wife will appreciate the little bit of extra discretionary income. So, all in all, the shutdown of “The Five” is a moment of clarity, like if I was an alcoholic waking up in Mexico with no pants on next to a girl named Kitten.<\/p>\n<p>I’ll miss the trips and\u00a0I’ll miss the fellows that worked there. One time,\u00a0we had a strong fifteen minute conversation about seeing Pearl Jam at the Fox in 1994. That’s a cool memory. Mostly, I’ll regret not being able to purchase music the old-fashioned way, the way I did as a 17-year-old standing in line at the local Turtle’s Record store in Snellville, Georgia in 1987 when Def Leppard Hysteria came out. That ended poorly too. Hysteria had chick songs on it. Pyromania was so much better. RIP CD Warehouse aka “The Five”. Me and my Abe Lincolns will remember the hours we spent together fondly.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/thefiveadlafjsf.jpg\"><img class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-4982\" alt=\"thefiveadla;fjsf\" src=\"http:\/\/lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/thefiveadlafjsf.jpg?w=300&h=278\" width=\"300\" height=\"278\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.modmombeyondindiedom.blogspot.com\/I-Don't-Like-Mondays\/\"><img alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/i1053.photobucket.com\/albums\/s464\/elleroy5\/MondaysBlogHopButton_zpse6a5f098.jpg\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a>Today’s song is from an album that played at “The Five” the last time I was there. Here’s The Raconteurs, Five on the Five.<\/p>\n<p><span class='embed-youtube' style='text-align:center; display: block;'><\/iframe><\/span><\/p>\n",
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"content": "<p>All over the world, people are giving up.<\/p>\n<p>Think about it. Where they get to vote, often nowadays, a majority can’t be bothered. When asked, they simply say “it makes no difference”.<\/p>\n<p>More and more are going beyond that. You see people refusing promotions now, refusing to go higher on the career ladder where there are fewer spots to compete for.<\/p>\n<p>If there are 120 spots for a senior clerk or technician, but only 10 supervisor’s roles, in your community, which slot gives you more security? Are the extra few dollars worth it, especially if next year the company your work for is downsizing, offshoring, outsourcing or is acquired? (That the senior staff position may well be one that pays overtime and the management position doesn’t could actually see your take home pay drop when you’re promoted, too \u2014 in a time when every bit of income matters.)<\/p>\n<p>Along Europe’s Mediterranean coast, it’s now the norm that your 35 year old son has never left home, never married, never started a family of his own \u2014 and maybe never held a job. If that’s the case, why expect that today will bring something different?<\/p>\n<p>These, and many many more, are showing up in our society as breaking points, fracture lines in the body politic.<\/p>\n<p>The world is changing, and rapidly, and in ways that don’t necessarily make tomorrow better than today (that is, if you measure better as “more”, or in terms of advancements).<\/p>\n<p>I live in a neighbourhood where nearly half the shops are shuttered, either formally out of business or where they may still be being rented but nobody blows the dust off from one month to the next (the office used by the former MP, defeated in the election of 2011, is still apparently rented by her, although I’ve never seen any signs of life for two years now).<\/p>\n<p>Yet the street is not dead: the neighbourhood comes together to paint and refurbish empty storefronts, and they’re used for pop-up shops to test new business ideas regularly. Some have even rented digs and set up shop permanently.<\/p>\n<p>When you see a former corporate high-flyer with their goods at “Artisans-at-Work”, you’re seeing another sort of breaking point unfolding.<\/p>\n<p>The neighbourhood, too, is filled with people who work from home. But then, this city is filled with people who don’t have jobs as we used to know them. Over half the urban area of 6.5 million people is self-employed (or -underemployed), a contract worker, permanent part-time, or some other profile that doesn’t fit the traditional 9-5, 37.5 hour week. <\/p>\n<p>Just as well, too, because the transit system is groaning under the commuting that’s going on now in rush hour, and the roads are in gridlock.<\/p>\n<p>I recall meeting a start up CEO two years ago. She was adamant that during working hours she simply would not meet with anyone outside a certain set of streets. The reason was simple: no amount of potential business was worth the lost time struggling to get around, and what that did to her quality of life.<\/p>\n<p>She’d rather, she said, have a much smaller business and a happier existence, than lose the reason she went on her own in the quest for more.<\/p>\n<p>Less is more. That’s a breaking point, in spades, for a society that’s built around endless growth and the consumer as the heart of the economy.<\/p>\n<p>We are coming to an inflection point. We are not ready for it.<\/p>\n<p>Almost all our government programs for things will be useless. They’re geared to doing one of two jobs: funnelling money into established <i>organizations<\/i>, or providing transitional support to get individuals back into the mainstream.<\/p>\n<p>No micro-business, something that provides a life for its owner but not much more, can afford to deal with the bureaucracy. No one walking the artist’s way is an organization, and thus they’ll remain outside the mainstream. <\/p>\n<p>Meanwhile, many of our best and brightest won’t be running things \u2014 by choice. They’ll have stayed on the front desk at the community centre, in a low role in the kitchen, or at a small desk in cubicleland rather than move up and take on more risk for little reward. <\/p>\n<p>More and more people are eschewing possessions \u2014 they’re not owning cars, they’re living in postage stamp-sized spaces, they’re people who rent when needed rather than cluttering up their lives with “stuff” \u2014 with disastrous effects if your only measure of success is the GDP.<\/p>\n<p>It’s a problem of scale. Things are getting smaller. But we’re left with an infrastructure and institutional landscape \u2014 public sector and private \u2014 that’s behemoth in size.<\/p>\n<p>For a while, yet, at least. When your breaking points are reached, how will you deal with them?<\/p>\n",
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"date": "2013-05-12T13:01:47-06:00",
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"content": "<p><img class=\"alignnone\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net\/hphotos-ak-prn1\/923316_10100858835573593_1519896449_n.jpg\" width=\"960\" height=\"717\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Every fisherman has this story… now I do too.<\/p>\n<p>Fishing Wildwood Lake Tuesday was a great experience. Not too breezy, not too sunny. Alone on my float tube, I slowly worked down the bank; casting to shore and slowly pulling the line back in. The only sounds were those of the lake, the chirp of a song birds, the occasional cacophony of geese across the lake, and the occasional splashing of a crappie or bluegill pulled to hand.<\/p>\n<p>Nirvana.<\/p>\n<p>Exactly why I enjoy about being on the water.<\/p>\n<p>Until one cast; which was not unlike any other of that day. That is until the gentle tug at the end of the line.<\/p>\n<p>Even the strike was nothing special. Instincts took over as a set the hook and started trying to pull the fish in by hand. Only this fish didn’t move toward me.<\/p>\n<p>It started heading the other way.<\/p>\n<p>There is no second guessing when you have a nice fish on the end of your line. Your rod doubles over in a way that is unmistakable. The fish goes on a run and starts pulling line through your hand. This fish did not take off fast; instead it swam off with a slow and steady pace. I could feel the arrogance of this fish by his gait; he knew that I was not simply going to pull him to hand.<\/p>\n<p>Big fish are special. And they are played on a fly rod differently. You don’t simply muscle them to hand as you would a common catch. You have to play them; to finesse them; to slowly cox them into coming to you. In a way, you have to build a relationship with the fish…<\/p>\n<p>I rapidly reeled my slack fly line off the water and “reeled him up”; a mark of achievement for any fish. I moved the rod right and left, <em>suggesting<\/em> to the fish which way I would like him to go as he slowly steamed toward hiding spots and snag ups. The truth of this fight was that the fish was in control. We can only make suggestions on how we would like the fight to go; and luckily the fish do not know this. If they did, we would never catch trophy fish.<\/p>\n<p>As I slowly turned the fish away from a snag I was rapidly adjusting the drag to keep enough pressure on him to tire him out; but not enough to break the line. My right was slowly directing his direction, the left was reeling when the fish would come in; and turning the drag as he would run. I started paddling the float tube backwards to open water. Here he would have less places to hide.<\/p>\n<p>As I kicked my feet backward, the fish sensed the movement and saw his chance. He turned with a flash and headed right for my float tube. I reeled furiously to keep the line tight. As he approached me, I was afraid that he would break the hook off <em>on me… <\/em>the ultimate of embarrassing endings. I was not prepared for the fish to charge me. I was so furiously reeling to keep the line tight, I couldn’t even try to turn him…<\/p>\n<p>When he was a few short feet from the boat, I did the only thing I could think of… While continuing to reel as fast as my hands would let me, I snapped the rod high up into the air; rising my arms as high as the would go…<\/p>\n<p>And when I did, the head of the largest bass I have ever seen shot out of the water and rested on my knees…<\/p>\n<p>In a moment now etched into my mind, I stared down the wide open throat of this largemouth bass. I could have put my entire fist in his mouth and not touched any part of it. I stared deep into his eyes, and I could only say one thing…<\/p>\n<p>“Oh my God…”<\/p>\n<p>I can only imagine that this fish thought the same thing.<\/p>\n<p>As I uttered these words to my self, the fly broke loose from the fish’s jaw… and flew up and over my head. As it did, the fish dropped back into the water…<\/p>\n<p>The whole scene took less then a half a second… but felt like an entire lifetime.<\/p>\n<p>I floated over the same spot\u00a0three more times searching for this fish again. Each time I set the hook and made that first pull of line, I hoped for the same initial run of that big bass. And each time I made the second pull and realized I had another common bluegill or crappie I was let down. After I grew tired of paddling the float tube, I even went back and waded the spot where I caught him…<\/p>\n<p>The angler in me knew he was long gone. But my soul held out hope…<\/p>\n<p>The only thing I remember about the rest of that trip was how the distant flock of geese came in closer. Their cacophony raised in volume; almost as if nature was mocking me…<\/p>\n<p><img class=\"alignnone\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net\/hphotos-ak-prn1\/935515_10100858835658423_1711310253_n.jpg\" width=\"960\" height=\"717\" \/><\/p>\n<p>I was finally forced off the water by an impending thunderstorm. As I walked from the lake, I knew that I would be back… this month, this summer, this lifetime; until I finally catch and bring this fish to hand.<\/p>\n<p>And a fish this magical needed a name… Jaques. (Why? Read some Shakespeare and find out…)<\/p>\n<p>Now I have my story of the one that got away. Here’s to a lifetime of chasing Jaques…<\/p>\n<p><img class=\"alignnone\" alt=\"\" src=\"https:\/\/fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net\/hphotos-ak-ash3\/936115_10100858835743253_1854775921_n.jpg\" width=\"960\" height=\"717\" \/><\/p>\n",
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"date": "2013-05-13T11:32:56-05:00",
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"title": "On Goodbyes",
"URL": "http:\/\/advokatdyavola.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/13\/on-goodbyes\/",
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"content": "<p>I remember when I left Russia, I told a friend <i>proshai<\/i> \u2013 farewell. She grew angry and implored me to instead say <i>do svidaniya<\/i> \u2013 until next time. Russians use this as goodbye, like the French say<i> au revoir, <\/i>or the Italians<i> arrivederci<\/i>. <i>Proshai<\/i> carried with it a cold tone of finality that my friend didn\u2019t quite like, though it turned out to be sadly accurate.<\/p>\n<p>Goodbye is an absurd word \u2013 nothing feels \u201cgood\u201d about it at all. Well, actually <i>Godbwye<\/i> \u2013 \u201cGod be with ye,\u201d is the mother of this devastating term. It seems fitting that such a calamitous event be allayed by God.<\/p>\n<p>Goodbyes never seem to get easier. Parting is something with which I am woefully experienced. In fact, like many other members of a more itinerant generation, I\u2019m practically an expert. I\u2019ve bid farewell to Winnipeg, Istanbul, Waterloo, Moscow, and Kigali over the past seven years, and Ottawa will soon be next.<\/p>\n<p>As great the temptation is to euphemize a parting with \u201cSee you later,\u201d I find that \u201cgoodbye\u201d or the even more permanent \u201cfarewell\u201d is usually more accurate. We say \u201cLet\u2019s stay in touch,\u201d or \u201cWe\u2019ll see each other again soon,\u201d with absolutely no regard for the power of distance and divergence. We whimsically utter these words with no cognizance of how much effort and volition is actually required to stay in touch across distance and time in a meaningful way.<\/p>\n<p>We may keep in some form of touch, at least for a while, and might even see each other again, but it won\u2019t be the same. It\u2019s like finishing a book \u2013 you can always read it again, but it\u2019ll never be the same as the first time. How happy I\u2019ve been to reunite with friends from the past, and how difficult it soon becomes to make conversation after we finish catching up, realizing that we now live separate lives.<\/p>\n<p>Sure, there\u2019s always Facebook, but the land of \u201cBRB\u201d and \u201cTTYL\u201d isn\u2019t exactly the epicentre of heart to heart conversation. Well, to be fair to the online, one of the first times I heard \u201cI love you\u201d was through MSN Messenger, but even that defunct forum was positively personal compared to Facebook. Social media makes it easier to stay in touch, but renders that touch less intimate. In the past, writing letters took longer and was less convenient, but the more \u201clengthy\u201d process demanded a higher calibre of dispatch. Thankfully people still take e-mail reasonably seriously, and Skype provides a face to face conversation, but even those modern tools are only small slingshots in the battle against the kilometres.<\/p>\n<p>I find goodbyes awkward, often surreal experiences, and never quite know what to say. Conclusions are often the most difficult part of a story. There\u2019s often an impulse for a group goodbye, but they usually end up contrived and impersonal, destroying all semblance of intimacy and replacing it with affectation.<\/p>\n<p>The sense of loss often sets in either before or after the moment of parting. At some point in the preceding days or weeks, we realize we may never see our friends again, which rouses us to spend more time with them. This of course causes us to feel their loss even more when we finally bid adieu.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIn every parting there is an image of death,\u201d <a href=\"http:\/\/books.google.ca\/books?id=Wp_P2PH4mQgC&pg=PA180&dq=%22in+every+parting+there+is+an+image+of+death%22+scenes+clerical+life&hl=en&sa=X&ei=RBORUZuVOcbGqQGPo4DYAQ&ved=0CC4Q6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=%22in%20every%20parting%20there%20is%20an%20image%20of%20death%22%20scenes%20clerical%20life&f=false\" target=\"_blank\">wrote<\/a> George Eliot (pen name of British novelist Mary Anne). Goodbyes are indeed a sort of death knell. Perhaps not of the friendships, but of the experience, the shared journey.<\/p>\n<p>Of course there are friendships that reside far beyond geography\u2019s lethal grasp, laughing in the face of distance. \u201cA friendship that can be ended didn’t ever start,\u201d <a href=\"http:\/\/books.google.ca\/books?id=NRo6AAAAcAAJ&pg=PT52&dq=%22Amiti%C3%A9+qui+se+peut+finir%22+Mellin+de+Saint-Gelais&hl=en&sa=X&ei=HRSRUZifCYPQrgGb14CQDg&ved=0CDQQ6AEwAQ\" target=\"_blank\">wrote<\/a> the French poet Mellin de Saint-Gelais. <i>Philia<\/i>, or the platonic love between friends, is perhaps not as sexy as its cousin <i>eros<\/i> \u2013 romantic love, but it\u2019s the purest of all the loves. No sex or jealousy to muddy the waters. No mandatory filial piety. No professional incentive. Just the pure joy of voluntarily shared company, of dipping into each other\u2019s souls every once in a while.<\/p>\n<p>Shared experiences are the sea upon which friendships sail. They solidify the bonds between us as we pass through them together, especially when there\u2019s a storm. Shared joys bring us close; shared suffering brings us closer. The harder the experience is for outsiders to comprehend, the closer the ties between those who have endured it together. When they speak of it, they speak their own language.<\/p>\n<p>But one must remember that like funerals, goodbyes are also a kind of celebration.\u00a0The closer the connections we\u2019ve made, and the more significant the experience, the sadder the farewell. I remember sending a final text to my friend Stefan from the windy deck of a Ukrainian ferry on the Bosphorus in Istanbul when I was leaving Turkey seven years ago. \u201cLeaving isn\u2019t easy,\u201d I wrote. \u201cThat\u2019s because you had such an impactful experience,\u201d was his reply. It was true, and this thought provided some comfort. He was always wise, that one. Perhaps I\u2019ll send him an e-mail.<\/p>\n<p>Related: <a href=\"http:\/\/advokatdyavola.wordpress.com\/2012\/07\/13\/on-travel\/\">On Travel<\/a><\/p>\n",
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"date": "2013-05-13T10:44:32-04:00",
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"title": "What’d he say? Adaptive technology for the movies…",
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"content": "<p>A little over a year ago, I was <a href=\"http:\/\/rochellekarina.com\/2012\/03\/28\/huh-what-did-you-say\/\">officially diagnosed with hearing loss<\/a>. After much research, and a lot of talks with various specialists, I’ve come to accept that at this point in time, hearing aids are not really the right choice for me. Long story, short version: they’re expensive, not covered by insurance, ugly, and generally not likely to correct my type of loss to an acceptable level.<\/p>\n<p>In other words, lots of negatives, for minimal return. Ummm… no thanks. So, what are my other options here?<\/p>\n<p>Adaptive technology to the rescue, it seems. Take movies for example…<\/p>\n<p>At home, if I want to understand all the dialog in the movie, I simply drive everyone else in the room nuts by turning on the captions… that is, if the movie has them.<\/p>\n<p>Going to the movies is a totally different story. Even though the volume level in most movie theaters is loud enough to wake the dead, my problem isn’t with the overall volume. My problem is there are things like background music, explosions, and other noises on the soundtrack in addition to the dialog. My problem is that I’m expected to understand whispered speech over all the other sounds they’ve added in as part of the experience.\u00a0That can be challenging for someone with perfectly normal hearing, never mind someone with hearing loss.<\/p>\n<p>Options? Oh, I can find a theater showing movies with captioning. Which means limited theaters, limited show times and driving everyone else nuts with the words across the bottom of the screen. Or, I can go to a theater that provides assistive devices.<\/p>\n<p>Sounds great, right? Yeah. In theory. Ever tried it?<\/p>\n<p>You have to go to the box office, the employee you speak to inevitably will never have handled this type of thing before and you have the challenge of trying to understand what they’re saying in the noisy theater environment. So, the conversation involves a lot of “huh?” and “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” on your part and a lot of frustration on theirs.<\/p>\n<p>After you’ve spoken to no less than three employees and gone through a sign out process that involves promising your soul to the god of cinema, you get handed whatever adaptive device that particular theater is using. (it’s now time to cross your fingers that the device they handed you actually works, isn’t covered in popcorn grease, and actually connects to whatever system they have)<\/p>\n<p>The most common in our area are these funky things that fit in your cup holder and give you a screen with captions. Great. Except…<\/p>\n<p>You’re filling up my cup holder. Which means I need to use the other one for my drink. Which means the person on the other side of me is not happy. And… that little screen is kinda out of line of sight from the movie screen. Which means I can either watch the movie, or read the dialog.<\/p>\n<p>Then I saw the promo for the new Sony glasses that Regal has been slowly rolling out. Sounds cool… instead of having to look down at a little screen, you just put on a pair of glasses that allow you, and only you, to see the captions, in your line of sight, so you can watch the movie at the same time. Wooohooo! What a cool idea! I don’t have to bounce my head back and forth and I don’t have to drive my companions nuts and I don’t have to…<\/p>\n<p>Wait… they look like that? Ummm… wow. OK, call me shallow, but… really? My choices are: miss important dialog because I can’t hear it, go to a limited screening that inconveniences everyone, use a cumbersome device that inconveniences those around me, or look like a complete and total dork, plus sit through the whole movie wondering, “How do they clean these things between users?”<\/p>\n<p>Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s all great, but… wow. No wonder people have issues admitting to any level of disability.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align:center;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.regmovies.com\/Sony-Access-Systems\"><img class=\"aligncenter\" alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/www.regmovies.com\/~\/media\/Images\/User%20Content\/SonysEntertainmentAccessPoster.ashx\" width=\"972\" height=\"1440\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p> <\/p>\n<h6 class=\"zemanta-related-title\" style=\"font-size:1em;\">Related articles<\/h6>\n<ul class=\"zemanta-article-ul\">\n<li class=\"zemanta-article-ul-li\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.newsobserver.com\/2013\/05\/09\/2882835\/regal-to-let-deaf-moviegoers-see.html\" target=\"_blank\">Regal to let deaf moviegoers see what they\u2019ve been missing<\/a> (newsobserver.com)<\/li>\n<li class=\"zemanta-article-ul-li\"><a href=\"http:\/\/lipreadingmom.com\/2013\/04\/26\/captions-come-with-choices-a-guest-post-by-captionfish-com\/\" target=\"_blank\">Captions Come with Choices: A Guest Post by CaptionFish.com<\/a> (lipreadingmom.com)<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n",
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"content": "<p>Dear Matthew,<\/p>\n<p>I am writing to you in response to the request that popped up in my inbox earlier this afternoon. I have also copied in Charity Comms, which deemed your request as relevant to charities that fall into the \u201cwomen\u2019s group\u201d, \u201cchildren\u201d or \u201cfamily welfare\u201d categories. I do hope that you receive several replies from \u201cwomen\u2019s groups\u201d and that said \u201cwomen\u2019s groups\u201d tell you exactly what they think of you.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/yourdaughterswillbenext.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/picture-2.png\"><img class=\"size-medium wp-image-546 aligncenter\" alt=\"Picture 2\" src=\"http:\/\/yourdaughterswillbenext.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/picture-2.png?w=300&h=129\" width=\"300\" height=\"129\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>Let me recount for you a memory from my childhood. I recall a day out with my father in which we passed a man on a bench staring fixatedly at the highly sexualised image of a bare-breasted young woman in a newspaper. I remember how this sight provoked a feeling of surprise, disgust and anger in my heart but, given my young age, I could not articulate why. When my father and I returned home, I found my mother breastfeeding my younger sister. My immediate reaction was to fetch a tea towel to cover her bare chest, lest a stranger should ogle at her body in the style of that same repulsive man in the street. I think that is the day that I became a feminist. I wanted my mother, my sister and indeed women and girls in general to be seen by all as more than objects, mere pieces of meat, for men\u2019s sexual gratification. Your newspaper, filled with men in clothes doing \u201cuseful\u201d things, a single giant image of a girl in her pants, and, apparently, as of Tuesday, naked <i>Real Women TM<\/i> in \u201cnude thongs\u201d who can only \u201cget happier\u201d when men rate their bodies favourably, is, therefore, not one of my favourite publications. Just so you know.<\/p>\n<p>Your request implies that women have psychological problems and that we are \u201coverly negative\u201d on ourselves when we \u201cneedn\u2019t be.\u201d I completely agree that many women have a much lower sense of self-worth than they should have. We are plagued by body dismorphia, eating disorders, shame and crippling insecurities. However, I would argue that having men publicly rate the sexual attractiveness of naked women does little to improve women\u2019s self-confidence and self-worth. Rather, it does the exact opposite. Why do women, generally speaking, have such low body confidence? Because we are taught, you might even say brainwashed, from birth by the mainstream media, fairytales, toys, films, advertisements, adults, peers and so on that our worth is inextricably tied-up with <i>male approval<\/i> and that male approval is dependant on being beautiful, attractive and sexually available. We can escape this, not by having Sun Readers, Gok Wan, <i>Dove<\/i> or <i>Boots<\/i> tell us that we possess <i>Real Beauty TM<\/i>, but by severing the ties between our self-worth and our perceived sexual attractiveness. The \u201chealth feature\u201d you plan for Tuesday\u2019s edition of <i>The Sun<\/i>, on the other hand, reaffirms for many women that their very happiness and psychological wellbeing should be based on male perceptions of their naked bodies.<\/p>\n<p>I would like to end my letter in a civilised fashion. However, I\u2019ve had a long day at work, which was made longer by my outrage at receiving your shitty request. So, I\u2019m just going to bid you farewell immaturely and, in a petty fashion, wish that someone who is more technically savvy than me photoshops a picture of you (and perhaps also Rupert Murdoch and your other misogynist colleagues) so that you appear naked but for a \u201cnude thong\u201d, ready to be rated by millions. I wonder if a <i>Sun<\/i> psychologist will tell you that this is an empowering experience and that you will \u201cget happier\u201d as a result. I think not.<\/p>\n<p>Joanna<\/p>\n<p> <\/p>\n",
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"title": "Magnificent Obsession",
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"content": "<p>It was Friday. I’d been looking forward to it, dreaming of it, actually, for days. I knew what I was going \u00a0to do. \u00a0No need to announce my intentions to others. I had an itch of a kind that must be scratched.<\/p>\n<p>Let’s just say I was looking for \u00a0a companion with certain attributes. I wanted a solid, steadfast presence with some nurturing aspects. I tended to favor the company of a more mature companion, but I wouldn’t discriminate based on age. \u00a0Nor would I turn down an adventurous or mysterious spirit. In my mind’s eye I had seen myself, breathless and enthralled, hanging on to every word and moment with my future friend, marveling \u00a0at his (or her) genius. And ah, our imagined parting! What sorrow! I wanted to weep in advance, for as surely as I would cleave to the charms of my companion, so I would also seek to avoid our inevitable parting.<\/p>\n<p>This insatiable need I am describing is not new. I don’t mean to be such a user, but if I am anywhere close to my type of friend \u00a0I can’t pay attention to anything else. In the end I will take everything the friend has to offer, turn away from it and seek a replacement. Friday was no exception. I was on the prowl.<\/p>\n<p>But \u00a0I \u00a0couldn’t go just yet. I had to prepare. I showered, dressed, and fortified myself with a light lunch. I would need my wits about me for my journey. \u00a0I didn’t bring my camera; I didn’t know if this kind of intimacy was something best recorded on film. You know, the capturing of souls and all that.<\/p>\n<p>In due time, I left the house. My heart was eager, and urged me to travel swiftly toward my rendezvous. \u00a0I reminded myself I need not be desperate, that the right companion, or companions, would await me. This was not a time to dwell on imaginary scarcities. There will be an ample supply, I murmured to myself to slow my heart’s acceleration.<\/p>\n<p>When I arrived, I was welcomed into a pleasant chamber to view my prospects. Others \u00a0were there, no doubt to choose according to their desired types, but I barely registered them as I reconnoitered the room. Perhaps to prevent frenzied behaviors on the part of the lookers, our hosts had piped in some smooth jazz \u00a0recordings which sent an unspoken message,”This is a classy type of \u00a0meat market.”<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_1740\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1938.jpg\"><img class=\"size-full wp-image-1740\" alt=\"Music helped to manage our obsessive tendencies.\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1938.jpg?w=480\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Music helped to manage our obsessive tendencies.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>But a meat market it was! Our hosts had scoured far and wide to provide us with a startling array of companions- new, old. short, substantial, local. practical, exotic. cultured, unrefined, alluring, erudite, nondescript. Helpers circulated among the lookers, encouraging them in their choices. No one would have to leave empty handed.<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_1741\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1942.jpg\"><img class=\"size-full wp-image-1741\" alt=\"These autographed options stood on a bookcase by themselves.\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1942.jpg?w=480\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">These autographed options stood on a bookcase by themselves.<\/p><\/div>\n<div id=\"attachment_1742\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1924.jpg\"><img class=\" wp-image-1742\" alt=\"IMG_1924\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1924.jpg?w=584&h=438\" width=\"584\" height=\"438\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">You can’t judge them by their covers.<\/p><\/div>\n<p style=\"text-align:left;\">I saw many familiar friends from the past, ones whose beauty and truth I would never forget. I ran my hands over them, willing the fond memories of our times together. I was glad they were available for others. I browsed. I \u00a0took my time, moving aside patiently for others, as they in turn did for me. \u00a0The atmosphere was so civilized that I risked taking a few \u00a0discreet pictures with my phone.<a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1930.jpg\"><img class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-1743\" alt=\"IMG_1930\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1930.jpg?w=480\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_1744\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1932.jpg\"><img class=\" wp-image-1744\" alt=\"IMG_1932\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1932.jpg?w=584&h=438\" width=\"584\" height=\"438\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">So I can soothe my savage beast at home.<\/p><\/div>\n<p style=\"text-align:center;\">II<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_1745\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1931.jpg\"><img class=\"size-full wp-image-1745\" alt=\"Hello, handsome!\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1931.jpg?w=480\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hello, handsome!<\/p><\/div>\n<div id=\"attachment_1746\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/dsc_0706.jpg\"><img class=\"size-full wp-image-1746\" alt=\"More eye candy.\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/dsc_0706.jpg?w=480\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">More eye candy.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>I selected carefully, opting in the end for an eclectic \u00a0mix of potential friends, returning to the fold those which did not strike my fancy, just as I hoped others would do for me. \u00a0I had no idea how long I had been in there, oblivious to hunger, thirst, or any other human need. A glance around the area showed I was not the only one in an endorphin filled haze. Gladly I gave the nominal fee to take my choices home for further inspection.<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_1747\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1939.jpg\"><img class=\"size-full wp-image-1747\" alt=\"To each his own.\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1939.jpg?w=480\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">To each his own.<\/p><\/div>\n<div id=\"attachment_1748\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"width: 594px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1944.jpg\"><img class=\"size-full wp-image-1748\" alt=\"This kind lady and other volunteers helped me replenish my supplies for the nonce.\" src=\"http:\/\/mindfulmagpie.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/img_1944.jpg?w=480\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">This kind lady and other volunteers helped me replenish my supplies for the nonce.<\/p><\/div>\n<p>It has been two days. and we are settling in together nicely. I need not hurry to choose a favorite; each one \u00a0will share its \u00a0treasures with me at my pleasure, as many times as I want. There will be other selections in the future, but these are fine for today. My itch has subsided for the time being, happy with the anticipation of the thrills to come. How about you? Met any fascinating new friends lately?<\/p>\n",
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"content": "<div id=\"attachment_2608\" class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"width: 463px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.morguefile.com\/archive#\/?q=patience&photo_lib=morgueFile\"><img class=\" wp-image-2608 \" alt=\"patient dog Morgue file\" src=\"http:\/\/katenonesuch.files.wordpress.com\/2013\/05\/patient-dog-morgue-file.jpg?w=453&h=282\" width=\"453\" height=\"282\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Patience (photo: Anita Peppers)<\/p><\/div>\n<p>The last time I had my teaching evaluated by my administration, I was disappointed.\u00a0Although I was happy to get a grade of “excellent” (highest on a five point scale),\u00a0the comments from administration made me gag: “Kate is a kind and a patient teacher,” and “Her students like her very much and respond well to her teaching.”<\/p>\n<p>I don’t mind if students see me as kind and patient because they don’t usually\u00a0see into the inner workings and\u00a0complexities of the art of teaching, but I expect administration to be a little more savvy, and to appreciate some of\u00a0the nuances.<\/p>\n<p>Besides, kindness and patience are character traits and the implication is that I am a good teacher because I am a good person, not because of the work I put in, the knowledge\u00a0I have acquired, and the skills I have honed over the years.<\/p>\n<p>They are virtues associated most closely with women, and the stereotype raises its ugly head again–lower level students, adult basic literacy students, can (should) be taught by women because of their warm and nurturing natures; students at a higher level need to be taught by people with real skills and knowledge of subject matter.<\/p>\n<p>And further, since all that is needed\u00a0to teach adult basic literacy students is kindness and patience, those teachers don’t need to be paid well, or at all. In my part of the world, it is mostly volunteers\u00a0who teach\u00a0basic literacy students; adults taking classes that are equivalent to high school get paid instructors.<\/p>\n<h1>The Evaluator\u00a0saw “Kindness.”<\/h1>\n<p>Now it’s true I nearly always treat students gently, but it’s not because I’m kind. It’s because I work for\u00a0social justice. It’s because I believe in equality. I know that I have power and privilege in relation to students, power and privilege that come to me by\u00a0accident.<\/p>\n<p>I am white. Three little words that carry so much freight.<\/p>\n<p>My family moved into the middle class because my father, who was a veteran,\u00a0got a free university education after the war was over.\u00a0Think of that. People got bombed and killed in another part of the world, and one\u00a0result was that my father could stop being a labourer and become a pharmacist.<\/p>\n<p>Because my family was moving up,\u00a0I was taught to behave in ways that\u00a0middle class people approved of. I was bright. I didn’t cause any trouble. I got good marks, and my parents could afford to send me to university.<\/p>\n<p>As a result, I ended up in front of this class full of people who did not have my advantages and my privilege. People who expect that I will make the rules in this room. People who want what they think I can\u00a0offer, a chance for a better life for them and their children.<\/p>\n<p>I know how much power I have. I try not to abuse it. You can’t call that kindness: Call it awareness, call it politics, a thirst for fairness,\u00a0a desire for equality, a sense of social justice. Call it many names, but not kindness. Nothing so condescending as kindness.<\/p>\n<p>On a more practical side, I treat students gently because it’s part of creating a safe space. If they don’t feel safe, they don’t come back. If they don’t feel safe, they don’t fully engage in the learning process. If they don’t\u00a0engage, they make slow progress, or no progress. In that case, I feel like a failure.<\/p>\n<p>So really, you might say that what seems like\u00a0kindness is simply my desire for job satisfaction.<\/p>\n<h1>The Evaluator saw “Patience.”<\/h1>\n<p>When I first tell people about my work, a common response is “Oh, you must have so much patience.”\u00a0But no, I am not a patient teacher.<\/p>\n<p>In order for there to be patience, there must first be impatience. The patient person must be\u00a0sitting on her desire to be going faster or\u00a0changing direction. She may have many motives for disguising her impatience, for imposing patience on top of impatience, but\u00a0at the root of patience must be impatience. If she is content with the speed and the direction things are going in, there is no impatience; hence, there is no need for patience.<\/p>\n<p>My evaluator observed me teaching in a situation where she thought\u00a0<strong><em>she<\/em><\/strong> would be impatient. She knows that an adult\u00a0literacy class involves teaching a limited number of fairly basic skills to people who have not learned them in spite of years of schooling. She imagines that she would find it hard to be patient in that situation.<\/p>\n<p><em>Since she doesn’t see me being impatient, she concludes that I must be patient.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>What does she miss? If I’m not being patient, what is going on?<\/p>\n<h1>I’m curious.<\/h1>\n<p>How many times will the student use the math manipulatives\u00a0to solve problems before he internalizes the idea that the bottom number of a fraction indicates the number of pieces a whole is divided into; the bigger the number, the smaller the pieces.<\/p>\n<h1>I’m evaluating learning.<\/h1>\n<p>I’m doing constant formative assessment as I work with students individually or in a group. What do they know? Where in the process are they stuck? What misconceptions are blocking their\u00a0understanding of this new work? WIll their grasp of this material be a sufficient basis for the new work I know is coming up next week?<\/p>\n<h1>I’m evaluating teaching.<\/h1>\n<p>Which of the strategies I have for teaching periods and capitals\u00a0is\u00a0working best for these students today?<\/p>\n<h1>I’m thinking about the long term\u00a0and the short term.<\/h1>\n<p>How does this lesson on periods and capitals fit into my plan for helping students improve their writing? What connections can I make to show students how things fit together in the bigger picture?<\/p>\n<h1>I’m paying attention to emotions.<\/h1>\n<p>This classroom is a sea of emotions. I look for behaviours that indicate what people are feeling: Whose frustration is making it impossible to concentrate on the work? Who is finding joy and satisfaction in doing something they couldn’t do yesterday? Whose response to stress is causing them to disassociate?<\/p>\n<p>I try to find some way to express or deal with the emotions that are impeding\u00a0learning, and\u00a0bring forward those that are conducive to learning. I watch my own emotions, too, because they affect my teaching, and my students’ learning.<\/p>\n<h1>I’m solving problems.<\/h1>\n<p>Every minute, as they come up. Many things\u00a0new and different every day.<\/p>\n<h1>I’m refusing to be bored.<\/h1>\n<p>My first rule in the classroom, for me and for my students. If I’m bored, something is not working. Find out what it is, and fix it. <a title=\"Refuse to be\u00a0Bored\" href=\"http:\/\/katenonesuch.com\/2012\/06\/21\/refuse-to-be-bored\/\" target=\"_blank\">Refuse to be bored.<\/a><\/p>\n<h1>I’m engaged.<\/h1>\n<p>In short, I’m not patient; I’m teaching.<\/p>\n<p>And my students respond, not because they like me, but because I’m teaching!<\/p>\n",
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"title": "Bioshock Infinite is a Metacommentary on the Nature of Video Game Storytelling",
"URL": "http:\/\/kevinjameswong.com\/2013\/04\/08\/bioshock-infinite-is-a-metacommentary-on-the-nature-of-video-game-storytelling\/",
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"content": "<p><em>I’m going to spoil a lot of Bioshock Infinite for all of you, so beware this blog post if you’re planning on playing this game.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Bioshock Infinite\u00a0<\/em>is a game about a lot of things.<\/p>\n<div class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"width: 184px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/upload.wikimedia.org\/wikipedia\/en\/a\/a3\/Official_cover_art_for_Bioshock_Infinite.jpg\"><img class=\" \" alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/upload.wikimedia.org\/wikipedia\/en\/a\/a3\/Official_cover_art_for_Bioshock_Infinite.jpg\" width=\"174\" height=\"247\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bioshock Infinite<\/p><\/div>\n<p>Religious zealotry, American Exceptionalism, theories of space-time and interdimensionality, patriotic jingoism, the inevitability of economic disparity, Occupy Wall Street, postcolonial theory, and problems faced by political radicalism. Its a beautifully sophisticated game on many thematic levels, \u00a0and while not every strand is followed to a conclusion, it piques interest, causes uncanny discomfort, and provokes conversation and interpretation within its colorful fan community.<\/p>\n<p>However, my view on the meaning of\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite,<\/em> which has conflicted with the interpretations of the many friends that I have discussed the game with, involves a subtle level of self-reflexivity that I saw pervading the game’s entirety.\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> is about the nature of narrative in games and the conflicts between emergent and fixed narrative, returning to the conflicts between ludology and narratology that had died down years ago.<\/p>\n<p>Before we begin, let’s go over some key terms necessary to understanding this argument, not everyone is a game designer. <em>Emergent narratives<\/em> are unscripted stories that come out of a game’s play, they may include\u00a0dramatic character arcs in <em>The Sims<\/em>, and alternate histories created by\u00a0<em>Civilization V<\/em> matches.\u00a0<em>Fixed narratives\u00a0<\/em>are stories determined by the game designer, and are most prominent in single-player narrative games such as <em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em>.\u00a0<em><br \/>\n<\/em><\/p>\n<h3><span style=\"text-decoration:underline;\">Constants and Variables: Emergent and Fixed\u00a0Narrative<\/span><\/h3>\n<p>Single-player games like\u00a0<em>Jak and Daxter<\/em>\u00a0are comprised of both fixed and emergent narrative elements. Fixed narrative in these games amounts to preset moments that occur between or during moments of gameplay, and may manifest themselves as cutscenes, background chatter, or narration. Games like these are also comprised of emergent scenes, which can vary wildly depending on player choice. Game narrative is not entirely dictated by the author, and exists as a strange amalgam of both embedded and emergent narrative. Game writers do not have complete control over how a game’s story will play out due to the nature of interactivity and player behavior. Even a single-player narrative game like\u00a0<em>Half-Life 2\u00a0<\/em>can have an infinite number of narrative permutations dependent on how players approach combat and exploration sequences.<\/p>\n<span class='embed-youtube' style='text-align:center; display: block;'><\/iframe><\/span>\n<p><em><\/em>Which is a topic\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> addresses in its brilliant, mind-bending ending. Booker and Elizabeth escape Columbia through an interdimensional portal into the Sea of Lighthouses, a mysterious world beyond the constraints of time and space where every possible permutation of the universe at any possible time in history can be accessed through an infinite number of doors. “There are a million, million worlds. All different and all similar. Constants and variables. There’s always a lighthouse, there’s always a man, there’s always a city… Sometimes something’s different… yet… the same.” says Elizabeth.<\/p>\n<p>This scene is soaked with metacommentary about the distinction and conflicts between embedded and emergent narrative. Everyone who plays\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> will be telling a different story in their playthrough. Combat situations will play out differently depending on player strategies, Booker may or may not find all the collectible upgrades in Columbia, he may spend hours playing carnival games at the fair, he may ride the carousel in Soldier’s Field, and he may scour every trash can in Columbia for food. These are the “variables” that Elizabeth is talking about, the “million, million worlds” that are all different and the same,\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em>‘s story is comprised of an infinite number of permutations coming out of the game’s emergent nature.<\/p>\n<div class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"width: 650px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/i.stack.imgur.com\/Gghkn.jpg\"><img alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/i.stack.imgur.com\/Gghkn.jpg\" width=\"640\" height=\"565\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Decision time!<\/p><\/div>\n<p>And yet, the rich range of narrative permutations that come out of interactivity is mooted by authorial intent and traditional narrative. Bird or Cage, ride the carousel or ignore it, fight with guns or Vigors,\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em>‘s overarching narrative will always play out the same way regardless of player choice. All this is reinforced by the game’s single ending. While many games try to make player choice meaningful by providing a variety of outcomes based on player’s participation in the story,\u00a0<em>Infinite<\/em> mocks the idea by making players powerless over the progression and ultimate outcome of the game’s plot. These are “constants”, the elements of a game narrative that are “always the same”.<\/p>\n<h3><span style=\"text-decoration:underline;\">The Illusion of Meaningful Choice<\/span><\/h3>\n<p><em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> is peppered with moments where players have to make a split-second binary choice, such as a decision to threaten or press a ticket seller, and the decision between two different brooches for Elizabeth. While most games like\u00a0<em>Mass Effect<\/em> and <em>Heavy Rain<\/em>\u00a0hinge upon these moments as an integral part of their branching storytelling, these moments in\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em>\u00a0make no meaningful difference to the overall outcome of the plot.<\/p>\n<p>Games are characterized by having quantifiable and variable outcomes, and player choice in gameplay dictates these outcomes, leading to meaningful play.\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> challenges the notion that binary choice is meaningful by making its choices meaningless, that is, if meaningful choice is to be defined as a choice that influences the game’s outcome. The first\u00a0<em>Bioshock<\/em>\u00a0had a rudimentary morality system where player’s choices in dealing with Little Sisters influenced the plot’s variable conclusion and marketed this system as an integral part of the game’s appeal. <em>Infinite<\/em> subverts player expectations by making these “moral choice” moments irrelevant to the outcome of the campaign, at most, leading to a minor cosmetic difference on a character or two.<\/p>\n<div class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"width: 650px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/guides.gamepressure.com\/bioshockinfinite\/gfx\/word\/625488859.jpg\"><img alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/guides.gamepressure.com\/bioshockinfinite\/gfx\/word\/625488859.jpg\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">One of the “decision-time” scenes<\/p><\/div>\n<p>The artificiality and insignificance of these moments reinforces the notion that\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> is about the conflicts between player-generated and designer-dictated narrative and the diametrical opposition between ludology and narratology. Players are led by prior experiences with similar games to think that these binary choices matter with respect to the game’s narrative, and by subverting these expectations by making these choices almost irrelevant to the game’s conclusion, <em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> raises questions about whether or not truly meaningful choice can really exist within a designer-driven narrative.<\/p>\n<h3><span style=\"text-decoration:underline;\">Does Autonomy Exist in Narrative Games?<\/span><\/h3>\n<p>The Lutece “twins”, the memorable and quirky duo of scientists lost everywhere in spacetime, \u00a0provide perhaps the most thought provoking insight on game narrative in\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite.\u00a0<\/em>The Luteces are fourth-dimensional beings, and simultaneously exist in all places, at all times, in every possible universe. <a href=\"http:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=jchIi-vR_js\">Adam Sessler <\/a>of the fantastic <a href=\"http:\/\/revision3.com\/games\">Rev3Games channel<\/a> likened them to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern for their self-referential nature on the nature of fate and free will. This is fitting given their role in the game’s narrative.<\/p>\n<p>Tom Stoppard’s play\u00a0<em>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead<\/em> retells the story of\u00a0<em>Hamlet\u00a0<\/em>from the perspective of minor characters. The play deals with whether or not free will can exist within the world of a play, amongst other meta-things. The titular characters, doomed to die in the original Shakespeare play, attempt to defy their fate by escaping to England in one scene, but are rendered incapable of doing so by virtue of existing in a world dictated by an omniscient, godlike playwright. Video games are said to break from this problem by having the player enact the narrative by assuming the role of a character, thereby imposing free will into a universe traditionally thought to be dictated by an author.\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> challenges this idea in an early scene.<\/p>\n<p>Upon arriving in Columbia, Booker encounters the twins blocking a doorway. They walk up to him and give him a coin, “heads, or tails”, they ask. Booker flips it, calling heads, and it lands on heads, like it did for the last 122 times.<\/p>\n<div class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"width: 650px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/upload.wikimedia.org\/wikipedia\/en\/2\/20\/Bioshock_infinite_lutece_twins.jpg\"><img alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/upload.wikimedia.org\/wikipedia\/en\/2\/20\/Bioshock_infinite_lutece_twins.jpg\" width=\"640\" height=\"360\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Bioshock Infinite’s coin-flip scene is not a “decision-time” scene<\/p><\/div>\n<p>In\u00a0<em>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,\u00a0<\/em>a similar scene occurs where a coin lands on heads 92 times in a row. This leads the characters to wonder if they are under the control of a supernatural force. In real life, coin flips are determined entirely by random chance, and exist as a fair and impartial way of making binary decisions. This cannot exist within the constraints of a work of fiction, even computers at a machine level are incapable of simulating randomness. The coin-flip scene in\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite\u00a0<\/em>is not determined by random chance, and is scripted by the developers to always land on heads.<\/p>\n<p>What this means is that autonomy and procedurally generated narrative cannot exist within a narrative game like\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em> no matter how hard developers attempt to give the illusion of an open-ended narrative. The coin-flip scene represented an ideal point to give the player the decision of calling heads or tails, but Booker is scripted to always call heads. This is done purposefully, as removing player autonomy from this scene tells us it is impossible for a game with scripted elements to be truly player-driven.<\/p>\n<p>This notion of the impossibility of autonomy in single-player narrative games is reinforced immediately after the player regains control over Booker. The Luteces walk to the side and open the doorway for Booker to proceed and stand there. If the player stays near them, Rosalind will tell the player to leave several times before saying “If you don’t go, I’ll be forced to start repeating myself.”, after which, she does.<\/p>\n<div class=\"wp-caption alignnone\" style=\"width: 510px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www4.samford.edu\/belltower\/092210\/images\/rosencrantz_guildenstern.jpg\"><img alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/www4.samford.edu\/belltower\/092210\/images\/rosencrantz_guildenstern.jpg\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead<\/p><\/div>\n<p>This interactive scene is a prod at the artificiality of NPC’s in video games, and despite attempts at creating rich and realistic characters in fiction, characters are ultimately fictional constructs created by authors devoid of autonomy and drive. Lutece is scripted to repeat the same limited number of prerecorded lines until the player inevitably leaves the area and continues the game. Despite the fact that players regain control Booker in this scene, it is impossible for players to do anything but proceed down\u00a0<em>Infinite<\/em>‘s narrative path.<\/p>\n<div class=\"wp-caption alignright\" style=\"width: 186px\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.coverbrowser.com\/image\/bestsellers-2007\/1103-1.jpg\"><img class=\" \" alt=\"\" src=\"http:\/\/www.coverbrowser.com\/image\/bestsellers-2007\/1103-1.jpg\" width=\"176\" height=\"266\" \/><\/a><p class=\"wp-caption-text\">Look past Freudian interpretations, and this play has interesting things to say on free will.<\/p><\/div>\n<p><em>Bioshock<\/em> <em>Infinite<\/em>‘s themes of the illusion of free will extend from the artificiality of NPCs to the very nature of interactivity later on in the game. In the game’s final sequence, Booker finds himself reliving the moment he sold his daughter to repay his debt. Booker tries to resist, and players, disgusted at this grim realization, will too. \u00a0”You can wait as long as you want, eventually you’re going to give him what he wants. You don’t leave this room until you do.” says Elizabeth. At this point, the only option available to the player is to pick up the baby and hand it over to the man at the door, players cannot fight back or escape the room. Players will inevitably surrender the baby, since they cannot progress until they do. Both Booker, and the player, are rendered incapable of making any other decision by the very nature of <em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em>‘s method of storytelling. Aside from surrendering the baby after waiting for an indefinite time, the only other option available to the player is to quit the game.<\/p>\n<p>So is Booker an autonomous being, or is he controlled by an omniscient force called the Player? Perhaps the question being raised here is whether players are autonomous beings or simply actors controlled by the invisible hand of game design. The interactive nature of the medium would suggest that players are truly autonomous and capable of making rational decisions that influence the world of the game, but all this is an illusion. It is impossible for true, meaningful autonomy to exist in a single-player narrative game because the authored nature of fiction prohibits players from making choices outside of the ones that a game’s system allows.<\/p>\n<h3><span style=\"text-decoration:underline;\">Heavy Meta<\/span><\/h3>\n<p>Its totally possible that I’m reading way too deep into\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite<\/em>. However, even if my interpretation of the game strays far from predominant interpretations of <em>Infinite<\/em>, the questions raised by multiverse theory, the illusion of meaningful choice, and the myth of autonomy in single-player games raises interesting questions about the\u00a0nature of video game storytelling. Just like how\u00a0<em>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern<\/em> raises questions about the nature of fictional worlds dictated by authors,\u00a0<em>Bioshock Infinite\u00a0<\/em>raises questions about universes collaboratively authored by both designers and players.<\/p>\n",
"excerpt": "<p>I’m going to spoil a lot of Bioshock Infinite for all of you, so beware this blog post if you’re planning on playing this game.\u00a0 Bioshock Infinite\u00a0is a game about a lot of things. Religious zealotry, American Exceptionalism, theories of space-time and interdimensionality, patriotic jingoism, the inevitability of economic disparity, Occupy Wall Street, postcolonial theory, […]<\/p>\n",
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