New Year's Eve 2015

Parts of this were adapted from a letter I wrote. The idea to make it a New Year's post came from someone else. No pressure.

Just giving credit where credit is due. *grins* You know who you are.

So here we are. Hard to believe it's the end of another year. Events around this time last year feel like they were just a few months ago. I have to think back over all the things I've done and people I've met to remember that yes, it really has been that long.

Yet a couple days ago, I was thinking about a small dinner party I was at, fun but forgettable, wondering if it was sometime in November. Then it hit me that that was only last week.

*shakes head* I'm getting old.

Aren't we all?

Well. If you didn't know, according to the Chinese Zodiac, 2015 was the Year of the Goat. There are twelve animal signs, each animal is represented once every dozen years. And this year was mine. 

I'm a Goat. Insert joke here. 

Not that I follow this stuff. I'm not even Chinese! I just find it intriguing how, though interpretations may vary, some caprine descriptions really do sound like me.

Anyway. All the way back in January, I remember thinking that this was my year. I had fond memories of the last one in 2005 - wow, that's a long time ago - and hoped that this one would give me everything I wanted.

And it didn't.

But looking back...I kind of think I got what I needed.

Yes, okay, fine. You can sing the song. It's as good a soundtrack as any.

Yes, there are still issues unresolved and goals unachieved that I'm just going to have to carry over to next year. There are things I wish I'd done differently. But that's the point, isn't it. I had to do those things to know they weren't what I wanted. That's how we learn, and grow.

I'm starting to think happiness is like a constellation. It's easy to see a dark sky. But find the stars, and you can draw a brighter picture.

We all spend a lot of time being worried or anxious, irritable or depressed. But if I look back over the last year, it's the bright spots I remember. I've read a lot of books, played a lot of games, written things I wanted to write. I've made new friends. I've had deep conversations, felt like a badass, acted like an idiot. I've made people laugh.

That's not a bad picture, don't you think. *raises glass* Here's to 2015.

I just want to say, to all the people who've made my life brighter this year - family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances and the ones I used to know - 

Thank you. I hope I've made yours brighter as well.

So here we go.

*smiles*

See you on the other side.

Random Thoughts II

I've decided I like this format. It allows me to hold forth on multiple unrelated subjects when I don't feel like one of my grand essays.* I'm going to make this a series - starting now. 

Any objections? No? Good.

So first off. I've just finished reading We Need To Talk About Kevin, a novel built around the phenomenon of American school shootings. Narrated by the mother of a boy who grows up to execute - yes, that is the word - several schoolmates, among others, it's a tragic tale that wonders why so many are committing mass murder in their teens.

Now, before I go on. I'm on the anti-gun side of the debate. I've never been a fan of blood and gore per se. But I have cheerfully slaughtered multitudes in virtual worlds, and have no desire to go out and kill people in real life. There's a wall in my head between fiction and fact.

Ah, you say. Good for you. But not everyone has that wall. Nowadays it seems there are more and more mentally disturbed American teenagers. Is it the culture? A morally deficient upbringing? The apparently inept mental health system?

I wouldn't know. I didn't grow up there. Sometimes I'm kind of glad for it.

But as an outsider looking in, I've come to believe that the proliferation of guns in America is - forgive me - a profound cultural flaw. Don't give me that garbage about people killing people. It's true enough. But guns make it easy to kill people. There is a link between video games and firearms. In both cases you move your finger, and someone dies.

Of course the issue is more complicated than that. But guns are part of the problem.

Nevertheless. The book isn't about all that.** Rather, it's a meditation on how much responsibility parents should bear when their children become monsters. The core dynamic is between Kevin and his mother, who didn't want to be a mother, and admits to disliking her own son. Did the antagonism of their relationship drive him to do what he did? Or was he born evil, and his mother, understandably flawed, powerless to prevent it?

I lean towards the latter. Practically from birth Kevin is portrayed as a sociopath, lacking any sort of compassion, driven only to destroy on a whim. His malice is calculated, disturbingly so. He is maleficent.

Yet there are rare occasions when we see that his apathy might just be a facade. One he's worn so long it's become a part of him. What might cause a young boy to don such a mask?

It's all quite fascinating - and heartbreaking. I recommend it. There's even a movie.

Moving on. Several months ago a famous boy band I'd never heard of visited my workplace. The other day a cousin got a picture of them, with me in it, from a friend. She joked that I was famous. But it hit me that in a way, I probably was.

Now, don't go thinking I care all that much about meeting famous people. They make for points of interest - I've got a picture with Bill Clinton from when I was five - but life goes on. 

What I do is public enough that I've gotten used to being recognized occasionally. People look at me and go, aren't you that guy from...and I smile and say, yes. That's me. And I work at a tourist attraction, after all. During peak season - now, as it happens - up to hundreds of people see me every day.

I suppose this isn't very logical.

But it does occur to me to wonder how many thousands, if not tens of thousands, have looked up this band and seen my face.

Thirdly. One of my recurring themes, you might say, is that it's hard to be original these days. I've said it before. I came up against it time and again writing my first fantasy story. I still feel a mixture of amusement and chagrin upon finding that someone else has already thought my own thoughts.

And so it is here, with my musings on books and video games. The link between them seemed novel when I first noticed it. They are very different media, after all.

And then I found this quote.

*shrug* At least I'm not alone.

I've also been rereading the Harry Potter books recently. What? It's been five, maybe six years. Old favourites*** deserve to be revisited. I'm sure someday I'll get around to rereading the entire Wheel of Time.

Anyway, I've just finished the fifth, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which
pits Harry against the Ministry of Magic itself, who refuse to believe Lord Voldemort has returned. Faced with escalating government interference at Hogwarts, Harry forms his own little secret society dedicated to learning defensive magic - while in the outside world, the Order faces off against the Dark Lord from the shadows. There's a pervading theme of rebellion against flawed authority. It's by far the darkest book yet - and one of my favourites.

But it's also the least favourite of many - and now I see why.

For the first time in the series, Harry's personality has shifted. He's always been well-meaning, loyal, a little reckless, perhaps, but determined to save people who need saving. And all that's still there.

But now, above all, he's angry.

And he has good reason. Despite his kidnap and torture - and the murder of a schoolmate - by the newly risen Dark Lord, the Ministry is branding Harry a violent, attention-seeking liar. Former friends are now against him; the Ministry-appointed teacher is out to get him; and on top of everything else, he's failing his classes. Given all that, it's understandable that he becomes rather...volatile.

That is to say: he's short-tempered, bitter, moody, self-pitying, prone to taking stupid risks and picking fights. In this book, Harry's an anti-hero.

That didn't bother me so much before. I first read the book in my teens, right around Harry's age. Back then, his behaviour seemed justified. Now, watching him lash out at his friends makes me wince. 

But in a way, Harry's misery makes him more relatable. It shows he's flawed. I remember at least one author noting how Harry is temperamental, rash, a poor student. They liked that. Perfect heroes are unrealistic, because perfect people don't exist. It's our imperfections that make us real.

So overall, this is still one of my favourite books. Harry isn't always likeable here - but he is believable. He's a teenager, with all the angst and anger that entails. I used to be one too. I can empathize.

And it helps to know that we both got better in the end.****

Fifthly - I should lighten the mood. 

It's that time of year again! *infectious grin* Among the many memes and videos being passed around social media, I enjoyed this one so much I thought I'd pass it on. 

Watch this. 

Yes, the guy on the left looks a little too excited. But it's still hilarious. Merry Christmas, everybody.

And finally. I've said before that I admire certain kinds of art. And I do actually seek it out. Every now and then, I'll spend an hour just browsing for wallpapers that strike me as evocative, or memorable. Or pretty. 

So I'll leave you with this.

Only two more days. I can't wait.

*Though ironically, it's become one anyway.

**The author makes an effort to avoid the debate entirely. Kevin shows no interest in violent media. He isn't a loner; he isn't bullied; he's not on drugs. And he commits his murders not with a gun, but with a crossbow, having studied archery for years.

***I am proud to own a Hogwarts-crested T-shirt.

****You can find a more detailed examination here.