Former Geniuses Anonymous

(Here's one of three sketches I wrote for a comedy troupe I was a part of this year that didn't quite make the cut.)
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(INT. Meeting Room – Five seats are arranged in an arch with Emma, James, Fred, Sandra and Walter sitting in their respective seats. A banner on the back has FGA printed in bold letters and the following slogan below it: You may not be the next Einstein, but at least you can shoot for slightly above average! )

Fred: Hello and welcome to FGA, Former Geniuses Anonymous, a place for all those in university who came in with As and Bs and are now struggling to get a D. I’m Fred, as some of you may know.  I understand that we have a few new faces here. (looks at Emma) Would you care to introduce yourself?

Emma: I don’t need to be here, I’m just doing this because I punched my professor for failing me on my mid-term.

Fred: I’ve dealt with cases like yours and it’s perfectly fine to react that way. Believe me, I used to be in your shoes.

Emma: Bite me, you C+ average troglodyte.

Fred: (looks at Walter) How about you? Would you like to introduce yourself?

(Walter shakes his head ferverently back and forth)

Fred: Okay, well, why don’t we let some of our older members speak. Sandra, would you care to go first?

Sandra: (chirpy) Sure! Hello everyone.

All: Hello Sandra.

Sandra: As you already know, my name is Sandra. I joined FGA when I was four weeks into my first term of my first year. (sigh) It all seemed to go well, the classes were interesting, the profs were cool and I thought I’d rock this! But then I got my first few marks and whoops! I guess it wasn’t gonna be that easy after all (small chuckle)...

(Emma stares menacing into Sandra’s eyes as James looks bored out of his mind and Walter is anxious to leave)

Sandra: ...thankfully the FGA helped me get back on my feet and made me realize that I can still do some great things. They just won’t change the world is all. (chuckles again) I’m happy to say that I’m now more comfortable with my levels of intelligence now being in fourth year.

(everyone claps)

Fred: That’s wonderful, Sandra, great to see you making more progress.

Emma: Yeah, I could certainly see how far you fell from grace. Kind of like jumping from the second floor to the first.

Fred: Who wants to share next?

(Walter puts his hand up)

Fred:  Alright, go ahead.

Walter: Good evening. My name is Walter.

All: Hello Walter.

Walter: I’m going into a double major of Quantum Physics and Rocket Science with a minor in Complex Mathematical Structures In Correlation To Medieval Feminist Literature and I haven’t been able to get the grades I want.

Sandra: Well, how are you trying to manage such a workload?

Walter: To put it simply, (freaked out) I can’t! I’ve tried studying in my room, studying in Robarts, going to a prison and studying in solitary confinement and I’m still slipping! If only these days weren’t so short! 24 hours just isn’t enough! Where’s my Red Bull and coffee?! (frantically searches for it)

Sandra: (weirded out but still maintains her composure) I suggest you change your major to something more accessible.

Emma: Yeah. I’m sure you’d make a wonderful substitute teacher at a public school, Walter. Your parents may disown you, but at least you’ll get a steady job.

(Walter yelps)

Fred: Now let’s not be rude, I think it’s important that you know your limit and you stay within it. Thank you for sharing with us, Walter. (turns to James) Would you care to share next?

James: (dazed) What, me?

Emma: Who else is he talking to, Mr. MENSA?

James: Alright, whatever. Hey guys, I’m James.

All: Hello James

James: I joined the FGA when I was in like my second year or something. My grades were okay in first year...mostly ‘cuz I copied off my roommate, but then in second year, like everything just didn’t make any sense to me. I mean when I really want to, I can do just fine, but I’m now doing some other stuff, and I just can’t put in the effort in I used to before, man. But like I’m doing totally great now.

Emma: Oh now come on! (looks at Fred) You’re joking, right. This was a former genius? This guy probably smokes a pound of weed he got from a bum down at Yonge Street every school day.

James: So what if I do? I was top of my class before I got here.

Emma: Where, in Vancouver?

James: Hey, I only took the stuff when I got here, and I just needed it to not stress anymore. I’m smart, man.

Emma: If you’re smart, then I’d hate to see what dumb is.

James: Look, I could explain Fermat’s last theorem to you if I wanted to.

Emma: (extremely sarcastic) Then do it, pointdexter.

James: We don’t have enough time for that.

Emma: Yeah, sure...

Walter: Actually, he’s right, Fermat’s last theorem is very complicated...

Emma: Zip it, Walter. You’re not fooling me with your big words.

Sandra: Guys, we don’t need to fight! (chuckles) We’re all in this together!

Emma: Sorry, but I don’t want to be working at two different coffee shops in my 30s, I’d rather own them and have you begging for more vacation days.

(Sandra chuckles nervously)

Fred: You don’t need to act like this, it’s okay to be here.

Emma: Why? I’m here with (points to Sandra) a complacent shill, (points to Walter) an overcompensating workaholic, and (points to James) a piece of hippie trash.

Sandra: (nervous chuckle) Alright, you’re going over the line now.

Emma: At least I exceed expectations.

Sandra: (more nervous chuckle, gritting teeth) You better stop.

Emma: Hey, I can get on your level. You just can’t get on mine.

(Sandra proceeds to get up from her chair and swing at Emma, who is taunting her further. Sandra is being held back by James and Fred and Walter is rocking back in forth, trying to calm down)

Sandra: You think I’m some sort of imbecile you can just slap around psychologically? I got a 2400 on my SAT, you third-rate, omega-ranking bitch!

Fred: Sandra, remember our training.

Sandra: Not until I dissect her to study for my human anatomy class.

Walter: (shouting) Why is this happening?! I thought this was supposed to help me!

James: What’s your problem?

Emma: (in disdain; annoyed) My problem is that I’m spending my night here instead of doing something that actually is important.

James: You failed a mid-term. It’s not a big deal.

Emma: It is, dummy. The prof is a buffoon and he just wants to punish me for my greatness by putting me here.

(Sandra has finally calmed down and returns to her seat, along with James and Fred. Walter has stopped rocking)

Fred: Now that’s not true...you punched him.

Emma: You’d punch him too if you knew he was manipulating you!

James: Shit, I probably could’ve aced that mid-term.

Emma: Yeah, sure you could’ve...

James: Wait...wait a minute...I think I know you!

Walter, Fred, Samantha: (beat) You do?

James: Yeah...you’re in my literature class. My god, how could I forget a story like “chick punched literary professor in the face”? I really got to quit this stuff. (beat) You’re Emma, right?

Emma: (slightly defensive, still smug as ever) L-lucky guess.

James: Yeah, you were complaining to my buddy about how you kept getting terrible marks in the assignments. Man, I knew some people who slipped, but you were like on ice.

Emma: (more defensive, less smug) Shut up, I never said that.

Sandra: Well! I guess I wasn’t at your level after all! (chuckles)

James: Oh yeah, and I guess he was lying about you having to switch your major because you had to drop out of a course.

Emma: (even more defensive) Yeah he did!

Walter: (as if he’s come across the greatest epiphany) This explains so much. The attitude, the superiority complex, all the ad hominems! You’re trying to compensate for your failures!

Emma: (full blown defense mode) I am not a failure!

Fred: It’s okay, Emma. We’ve all been there. Feeling like our grand aspirations are now unattainable and that we can no longer look down at others because we peaked and are now slowly crawling down to the same level as them. Having to do our best because our parents expected so much from us and we can’t let them down, and trying to accept a reality with far less importance and excitement. (hopeful) But we can still shoot for slightly above average!

Emma: No! I refuse to believe this! I refuse to believe this! (crying) I refuse to believe this! (bawls excessively and melodramatically) Why did this happen to me?  Why did I win all these writing awards if my writing isn’t good for academia? (cries some more)

(Everyone hugs together as she continues to cry)

Fred: It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. 

Costume Policing

(And now, an article that I wrote for a newspaper this semester)

Halloween is upon us yet again, and with it comes the same thing that comes with any holiday: political correctness. It seems that with each coming festivity, there are people who are getting offended and hurt in the process. Now, personally, I have a very mixed feeling on the whole push for being more PC around the holidays. I used to be one of those that got annoyed at people saying Happy Holidays, but considering how ever looming and Christian-centric Xmas gets, I don’t bother making a huff. And granted Thanksgiving wasn’t about Native Americans being hunky dory with Pilgrims, but lately the holiday has become more about unity and family and good food, so the issue should be kept separate from the holiday. It should still be talked about though.

Yet on ol’ Hallow’s Eve, I find myself split down the middle due to the whole issue regarding costumes. As the years go by, more and more people are concerned about what others decide to play dress-up for the night, particularly when it comes to donning the look of a culture that’s not your own. Each day that gets closer to Halloween, the “we are a culture, not a costume” posters grow in quantity, as well as the controversial pictures of costumes that you just can’t believe exist, like one on Caitlyn Jenner, or Ahmed, or sexy Stephen Harper.

Now I get the obvious part of the complaints that come from this movement. Clearly, the blackface version of any culture is terrible and it’s not like I condone the Make-Yourself-Asian makeup kit that only has shades of yellow or wearing any First Nation garb lest you are of that culture. Sometimes though, I believe it comes down more to the wearer than the costume itself. Let’s take the Caitlyn Jenner one for example. It would be fair to say that if you are transgender and you revere her, you can wear the costume just fine. Being a celebrity for the day doesn’t hurt anyone unless you’re dressed up as Mel Gibson. But if you’re not transgender, and yet you feel like her accomplishments are something you should pay tribute to, then you should be able to wear the costume if you maintain that respect.

The issue with the costumes that promote bigotry comes in the exaggeration, the accessorizing of a culture. Each culture, be it of race, religion or sexuality, has a harmful stereotype that serves to caricaturize them as a whole. Even the lesser evil of these costumes, the Mexican with the sombrero and the moustache, still dilutes a people to a certain point. But one thing is someone with a giant sombrero and a giant moustache, downing a bottle of tequila and shouting “Arrrrrrrriba!” every chance they get, and another is someone that looks like a standard mariachi band member calmly enjoying the evening.

Fictional characters make this issue more of a gray area. If anyone wants to play as another character that doesn’t belong to them culturally, then they should be able to wear it so long as they don’t simplify the character to that culture. Because then it’s saying that only that culture is what defines them, not anything else. As well as being a caricature of the culture itself. It’s a matter of respect when it comes to these costumes. And if that respect is maintained, we should be fine. Whatever someone wants to dress up as should be fine if they know how to pull it off.

I think where I get the most conflicted is when we are barring the use of allowing someone to wear something of a culture that is not their own. We should be able to exchange it better rather than close ourselves off because of a few assholes who ruin the fun for everyone. The situation here isn’t like America. Sure, Canada has had its moments of insensitivity, but we did not go as far as our neighbours to the South have. We are able to embrace more our diversity and express it too. We deal with the exchange our of cultures a lot more maturely and thus we should be able to show that maturity rather than feeling the need to say you can’t participate in that exchange and show it.

Though I understand perfectly why there is that tension. Not only because others stereotype a culture or use something that is not of their own culture, but then gets praised for it and then claims it as their own. No one wants to be in a position that what they wear everyday is considered weird and alien but then on some pretty person on a night in October gets compliments aplenty for wearing the same thing. When there is truly is an injustice and a total disregard for respect, it should be called out.

I can’t control your feelings on how you see any costume. If you feel offended, then you do. And it would’ve been easier for me to dismiss this issue entirely because it is Halloween. This holiday carries much less dirty history than the others. It is about having fun drinking candy corn shooters and watching movies about the occult. It is entertainment, yet entertainment must also be criticized. So I see why the push goes forward. But these pushes may end up being superficial fixes. People may wear the most PC costumes available but still be as bigoted as Donald Trump. Stereotypical costumes are clearly wrong, but more conversation should be allowed on what is right. We should encourage a cultural exchange, even if it is on Halloween where we just wear a costume for a day. Let’s try to better that progress. And if people still want to be bigots and wear offensive costumes, well, we should laugh at them. Because they’re just scared that they have no clue how the world works.

Comics From The Black Wave (Heartless Review)

When I arrived in Toronto, I found myself walking along the busy streets a lot, simply to absorb this place that I hope to call my home. I have found myself very much attracted by the odd juxtaposition of architecture, with modern, sleek and plain-looking buildings contrasted with older but more elaborate ones. Both of them are clearly of a different time and of a different mindset, but they somehow manage to fit into the larger picture. Much of the same can be said of the cultures that reside in the city. There is a lot that can be absorbed and appreciated, that it only seems necessary to take a part of that culture with you. Hence, I've managed to amass a lot of objects here and there, going into a myriad of stores, ranging from high-class, air-conditioned ones deep inside monolithic megamalls and small, rustic ones where the owner is usually old, foreign or both. 

One of those objects in particular is books. I'm not entirely sure why I haven't read as many books as I used to when I was younger. Or more importantly, why I don't have them in a collection that I can look at and say "yeah, I read all of these books". Granted it may be small and consist mostly of works I had to read for school, but it would still be nice to visualize it. It would be even more nice to expand my horizons in the literary world. Much as I believe that a good writer does not necessarily have to read a lot, the writer must still be a reader and a good one at that. Plus, it's important that I explore the works of others like I do with film, television and music. 

So, during my freshman year in university, I managed to collect a huge selection of works, some ranging from Indigo, others ranging to vintage book stores that were near sex shops and strip clubs to gifts. And I didn't read many of them that year because I was overwhelmed by the change of environment, which sort of caused them to collect dust. I still could feel them staring at me, saying that I looked like a tool for having them on the shelf despite not reading them or their Sparknotes. Now, in my second year, I have a little more control over my time, which means that I'll be able to actually get to reading those fucking books so they stop taunting me. Ironically, I'm going to be talking about one that I read in first year but only decided to talk about it my second year. There's three other books like this, so just bear with me.

This first book as you already can tell by the title of the review and the top of the review is Heartless. Heartless was created by Nina Bunjevac, a Yugoslavian artist whose style is dripping with film noir elements. It's not that far off to make the assumption, as the foreword by Jay Lynch indicates that she was inspired by "The Black Wave" of Yugoslavian cinema, a movement which comprised of works that were realistic, raw and filled with dark humor. Most of the work itself deals with human characters though on the cover of the book you see a feline lady who's not the slightest bit amused. She has a part in this compilation later on but it still maintains the tone and the weight of the whole piece. There are also some really bitching illustrations at the back. 

Heartless consists of five stories in total, the first being Opportunity Presents Itself. It talks about a woman named Selma, whose in a rut who gets in contact with her uncle Dino in America to go there. Her uncle tells her that if an opportunity ever presents itself, she must seize it. Arriving there, the circumstances are less than glamorous, as they live in a triplex and she has to take care of her sickly aunt while going to her new job. She finds herself interested in a man named Rosario who her uncle warns her about, but as she finds the days go by at her job, she finds herself more and more tempted to see what the mystery is behind Rosario. 

For the first story, it's quite the bait and switch, as it follows a standard "fish out of water" story, having Selma be idealistic and her uncle as the wise and protective aid to her journey, but then snaps the optimism in two in such a blunt manner that you kind of chuckle at the rapid shift into cynicism. As sad and confusing it was to see the conclusion, it was the first time I found myself saying "well, that's life" to such a negative turn of events. The introspection of Selma at her job along with the brief relationship that is established between her and Dino provide great support and add to the unimpressive, worrisome and drab circumstance that she's been thrust upon and it serves well to set the mood for what's to come.

Following that comes 1953, the shortest and most esoteric of the stories. It mostly hinges on a bit of dialogue based on 1953 by M. Djoric. Two women buy some fabric to make a dress using rationing stamps  out and then tell their husbands about it, knowing that those stamps were their last ones. One of them has the husband be eager to see it on her, the other says she should cook the dress for dinner. When one woman asks the other what she did after the husband said that, she simply replies "And nothing, Dino was a good man". It's quite a punchline for the story, and although it's compact, it provides a lighter balance to the previous story while still being tied down to the darker material in a way. 

The next story, The Real Deal, sort of takes what 1953 did to a more expanded level. It deals with a couple, Torvald and Nora. Torvald pawns off his wedding ring to try and support Nora. In this process, he doesn't become as loving to her and she worries that their marriage may be drifting apart. Seeking guidance, she consults a psychic named Madam M. who tells her that she has a curse and that she must give Madam M. $300 to have her luck improve. Once again, the start vastly differs from the end, and it serves as a good opposite to Opportunity Provides Itself. It's probably my second favorite story from the book, as it manages to capture the all-encompassing desperation of wanting to get back to a better time through the expressions on Torvald and Nora as he finds himself frustrated by their luck while she is depressed from it. You could perhaps argue that a more standard ending would have made a greater impact, but I think that this ending provides a better message. 

With the fourth story, the cover starts to make more sense as we find ourselves faced to the main event of the book, Bitter Tears of Zorka Petrovic. In this five-part installment, Zorka is the cat-lady in question, finding herself madly in love with a stripper named Chip. It mostly follows her trying to contact Chip as she finds that she may be pregnant with his child. She deals with the malaise of being a middle-aged bachelorette, smoking and drinking constantly as she watches TV and listening to her sister talk to her about getting married as she's less than content about hearing that shit again. Along with her troubles is a subplot involving one of the strip club workers, Fay, who is suffering from addiction and slowly finds her more detached with reality. As the story progresses, the plots stay seperate until the climax in which it changes the direction in which Zorka reacts to Chip. 

As it may not be much of a surprise, Bitter Tears Of Zorka Pertovic is my favorite story, not so much because it provides the most, but it heightens the best aspects of each of the previous stories. Zorka works wonderfully as a bitter, tired, romantic-at-heart, trying to take pleasure in her less-than-glamorous life. Her being a cartoonish cat helps to exaggerate her character and provides for some of the best detail in the artwork and the portions that deal with her trying to sway Chip into being with her are incredibly poetic for such a crass subject matter. Fay's subplot is great as well, adding more of the surreal dark humor that is already present with Zorka when she doesn't obsess over Chip. The laughs slowly get absorbed into a black hole of a bizarre but inevitable ending that seals the package of the story as well as a grey ribbon tied to a black box.

Finally, there's August, 1977. My third favorite story, it's one that words don't really do justice. It's about a man reading letters from his wife and daughter who are far away from him. They talk about how terrible the living conditions are and about the social and political turmoil that is around them, disagreeing with his stance on situations, all the while the man drinks and smokes. There's a clock ticking as he reads the letters as it shows him, the room he's in and people who are part of "the patriots" (a group of people who are doing far more harm than good). Each panel is perfectly minimalistic, with very noir lighting, and there is sufficient variety in the visuals that, coupled with the text, leave a eerie and melancholic mood. It just leaves you there at the end, unsure of what to make of what you just saw. There's just a quietness that just creeps along and consumes you. And you end up accepting it. 

Heartless is a very apt title for the book, but not so much in the sense that it lacks passion or is entirely cold. But rather it expresses the action of having it ripped out. Each story deals with the troubles of love and has a point in which the whole situation is bereft of the empathy and sympathy that the heart gives. When there is no longer the heart, there is a limpness to the surroundings and a begrudging complacency that then follows. The main story entirely focuses on the dichotomy of wanting to be in love whilst also burdened by a pessimism that comes from your life and how undesirable you may see yourself as. Heartless gives you something to hope for but then leaves you with a part of your soul withered away. And, rather than be distraught that it has gone, you simply snicker and shrug it off. 

Fuck It, Let's Talk American Politics!

Politics sucks. I can say that first-hand. Every time I look at what Google News has to say about my homeland, I get so down. I've barely tried to look at the Venezuelan news because it frustrates me so much how things have gotten. I still kind of know the gist of things and how terrible Maduro is of a follow-up to the Bolivarian revolution. At some point I'll have to analyze further and know some other names in the political scene of the homeland, and I will do so. Not only for myself but because I'm taking a South American history course and I'll definitely have to do some research for a paper. For now though, I don't really want to talk politics. Talking politics is draining. Especially Venezuelan politics. American too. It's so annoying seeing how the whole system has just become a grand mockery of itself. The whole damn thing is nothing but a painful joke. It's like each headline is spitting in my mouth. And they're spitting really big oysters. Literally. It's repulsive...

...And yet I find myself at this point in time where I can, if only very slightly, have more of a say on these political matters. I have to remember that even though I've never lived there, the US is a part of me too. It's how I can write good words here English in. It's a place where I can throw my vote into the ballot box and if it ever comes down to the wire where only one vote makes the difference, that could very well be my own. Of course, that's quite the weak dream of the voter, and there is a lot of cynicism and madness to consider that could make such an idea of the single vote being important look foolish. But I might as well give it a shot. At least to exercise that small power I have in politics. I would much rather look at other countries and their politics and see what interesting tidbits I can get from their history and their troubles. That at least would be interesting to talk about in the fancy dinner parties I'll eventually be hosting. But alas, I have to dive into the drudgery that is American politics. *sigh*

Particularly, let's talk the election, because that's what everyone is talking about. Why not though? The election is quite a spectacle. Well not quite, it's more of a show. A reality show, to be quite exact. I mean, all of the people that are being filmed are just playing an exaggerated or fraudulent version of themselves to get the most attention and there's a lot of places where scripting and lying are taking place. That and it's nothing but garbage. This election, to put it simply, is shit. I've only been alive for six election cycles and I only really managed to experience three of them, this one included, but I'm confident in saying that this is by far the most underwhelming and overwhelming one I've come across.

The Democrats really have had nothing to offer outside of their old-time favorite and the eccentric newcomer. Granted it feels like a re-run, but now there's less color. It is a bit of a shame that Obama can't actually run for a third term, as that might actually be interesting to see, but at the same time, I'm glad that he can't. He's just been a huge disappointment to everyone. Liberals, conservatives, white people, black people, Americans, foreigners, progressives, racists, everyone has a reason to sigh under their breath "Thanks Obama". It's hard for me to say if he was restrained by the House and the Senate that he was surrounded by or if we really didn't get what we were expecting. Which is a shame, it would have been nice to see what the true hope and change would have done. It's not like I can berate him too much. He may not have been what we wanted but he wasn't necessarily the worst. At least he made some efforts for change with Obamacare. Perhaps the biggest crime that Obama has committed, apart from the drone strikes and still keeping the NSA program, is that he showed that America has not gotten over it's racial tensions. It's frightening to think that if what happened so far this year was under a black president, how much worse could it get when we go back to another white person? It's really flipped the perception we all have about how much America has really progressed.

I guess we shouldn't be too glum. After all, we're getting a woman as president, right? That should be exciting, right? Having none other than Hilary Rodham Clinton, a secretary of state, former first lady and lawyer as our first female president would be great, right? After all, we've just rendered the whole idea of anyone else being the Democratic nominee this year completely moot. And the Republicans...hah! The Republicans. Am I right, late night audience? Ha ha ha.

Now while I certainly wouldn't think about going for Martin O'Malley, I don't know if I'm at all comfortable with Hilary in the White House. Not because of any old sexist quip of her not being able to handle the political world when Aunt Flo comes to visit or whatever, but more because I do not believe a word she is saying. There's just a certain artificiality to all of her talking points and it's very clear that she's done all that she can to ensure that 2008 does not happen again. The political machine is very connected to her and amidst all the hub-bub that's surrounded her with the emails and the donors, it's hard to say whose side she's really on. I particularly find her pandering to the youth to be the most insulting part, as if she's treating us as nothing more than easily captivated and simple minded. I see past your emojis and "I told Wall Street to cut it out", Madame Secretary. I KNOW YOU CAUSED BENGHAZI! Okay, I wouldn't go so far to label her as absolutely terrible. All I'm saying is that I have very strong doubts about how much she is on the side of the people. But hey, at least we'll have hit a milestone if we have her in office. I mean we were eventually going to have a robot for president.

On the other side of the Democratic coin, you have Bernie Sanders. Which is nice, I suppose. He really does seem committed to what he's talking about, he has established a grassroots campaign that has managed to sustain and overcome. I mean, he does seem quite genuine and caring of the issues that affect the middle class. I find myself not entirely convinced by him either. Partly because I've sort of been down this road of believing in a candidate with a more radical character that didn't deliver and partly because America is not Scandinavia. Or any of those small Nordic countries he likes to reference. It's not even Canada, which is as socialist as 7up is carbonated water. The ideas are certainly noble, but to make it work in America, it probably would be a lot more difficult and intricate that Sanders is making it out to be. Not to mention that there are some parts of the evil beast that is capitalism that actually kind of work to the nation's advantage. I think if he tries to focus on tipping the scales between the two system rather than just going full on comrade, something could come of it. But it's hard to say really if he could stick as a candidate.

While the Democrats have very little I can talk about, the Republicans certainly have had a bounty of blunders from their many candidates. They just seem to be frantically running from state to state, channel to channel and rally to rally to loudly and proudly boast how great America is and how much of a devil Obama is. Now as many other left-leaning folk, I find the party's actions throughout these years to be quite deplorable, from questioning whether Obama came from the country or not, being completely passive about him killing one of the greatest enemies of the nation, and generally blocking Obama from getting any meaningful progress done. Perhaps I can't be too bitter if Democrats can be equally as shitty when the tables are turned. Still, the rhetoric has become more vitriolic and divisive, and although both sides are to blame for the troubles, the Republicans certainly have been the most bombastic about their faults.

There certainly is one name on everyone's lips when we talk about the right, but before we get to that, let's just go through some of the other candidates that have graced the stage. We have Southern belle Lindsey Graham waffling about like a snake inside a jug of mint julip, Bobby Jindal pretty much providing nothing more than a funny name to say, and Scott Walker expressing his love of Harleys while also having limited time to speak in debates. Then if we start going a little higher, we reach gay-bashing Mike Huckabee, who has thumped the Bible so much, it has a groove for his fist. Carly Fiorina is trying to offer another female voice in the presidential race but much like the company she previous worked for, there's clearly a few jams she's going to have to get out of before her campaign gets working properly. Rand Paul is sort of existing in this race, I mean he kind of seemed promising with the filibuster and all that but he then kind of faltered and landed back on boring "more-conservative-than-libertarian" rhetoric that gets thrown about from Fox News commentators and Tea Partiers. Really, the only one I can kind of say is sort of promising is Rubio, but that's not really saying much. Oh yeah...and I think Jeb is also running or something.

I neglected to mention a few other candidates, most notably the calm absurdity of Ben Carson, the Jersey bully that is Chris Christie and that nutjob from Canada, Ted Cruz, Well mainly it's because there's not much I can really say about them that I couldn't say about the man that is surpassing them in the polls. They are seem like parts to that whole pile of dog shit with a raggedy mop on its head that is in front. I may have my disagreements with those three but it is nothing compared to him. Every word this man says is nothing more than a cheap ploy to listen to him further degrade the idea of humanity going forward. And it sadly works because of how cynical the voters have gotten, how truly ugly the underbellies of the American sociopolitical landscape are and how bemused the media has gotten to shocking stories. So much money fills up this orange entity, but not even all that money converted into pennies would even amount to half the height of one of his buildings, which its mass could not even reach a quarter to the garbage he spews which is not even a millionth of how warped his ego is. And yet he leads the polls. People believe that this man has something to say. I haven't feel this angry at a human since the Venezuelan elections. But perhaps I shouldn't be. For I am in Canada. And if America wishes to go down into its demise in a way that is most characteristic of everything that it stands for, then I could just rip up my passport and watch the fireworks fly, no? Unless the US's power completely vanishes and moves to China, I don't think I can be so aloof.

This election is a shitshow. The sheer pessimism that each day that nears to the primaries is staggering. I'm glad that I can still be critical of what is around me and that I restrain myself from following so blindly for a candidate. Though, it leaves me hollow, knowing that there really isn't any good choice to speak of in this array of candidates. Even trying to consider third parties, as laughable as it may seem to some, none of them really catch my eye and convince me that they are who I see myself fully behind. Perhaps it'll be another anti-vote, like in 2012, where you either didn't want to see a bland, robotic millionaire put back the white in White House or have that Muslim socialist freedom-hating terrorist-name-having Kenyan come back to take your guns away and force abortions on everyone. Or perhaps this year it may be the vote where people finally break down the barriers and decide to vote completely truthfully and unrestricted by any boundaries, be them political correctness, peer pressure or having to go with what "the establishment" says. Perhaps, we'll come to face a dull stand-off with a predictable conclusion. It's still very long 'til the election happens to say what'll happen for sure. One thing I know though is that no matter what does come along in the end, what has happened so far has been a mixture of disgusting, amazing and confusing all at the same time, and that we should perhaps take a stronger look at our whole system and see if this is really the sort of thing we want representing us on the global stage. Or maybe we can just continue to say "fuck that" and keep making late-night show jokes to ease ourselves from the pain that this system so very much gives us. 

Rebranding For The Desk Pile Blogstravaganza!

Yo, yo guys! How has it been? I know it's been like forever since I last posted anything. To make up for it, I've decided to finally get the blog looking more spiffy. Which I did for a while but since it's been dead as shit here, I can't blame any of you for not seeing the beauty that is the renovations. Basically changed the background, the header fonts and my profile. Not big changes, I know, but they make the blog a hell of a lot more "professional", no? The change really came about the fact that my Tumblr is called The Desk Of DryChris and I hardly post writing on the The Desk of DryChris because I do my blogging on The Den Of DryChris. For consistency sake, I've changed only the name of the blog to The Desk Of DryChris and kept the URL as the same as before because it'd be kind of a hassle if I change it, and plus I like the sentimentality of the URL. That and it explains the following event.

So I bet you're wondering what the shit is The Desk Pile Blogstravaganza? The Desk Pile Blogstravaganza is basically going to be a whole month of my blogs. Yeah. That's right. A whole month. And this time, I'm gonna be smart about it. Rather than make yet another empty promise on my blog, I've decided that if I want to make this a real event, I gotta prepare for it like it is an event. Which basically means that I factored in the variables. I have school. School is going to make me a very busy beaver. If I get lucky, I can make something that can become a blog of a considerable length. Once I'm done with that, then I stack that sucker up on a pile until I figured that the pile has been collecting far too much dust and needs to go. Now this might make things a bit uncomfortable if my stream of content dies down afterwards, but at least I want to give you folks a spontaneous explosion before I revert to my faulty water sprinkler rate of content.

BLOGSTRAVAGANZA STARTS ON DECEMBER 1ST SO MARK THAT CALENDER FOLKS!

Let's Talk Diversity In The Western Media

I've often asked people the question "what limits can an actor play with race?" receiving very little in response. It frustrates me because it's something that I'm genuinely curious about. As an aspiring actor, I'd like to feel as there are no limits to what I can do if I put enough effort, but nowadays it's becoming more apparent that maybe some limits should be set to actors. Specifically, don't play races or sexual orientations you're not. It's becoming more of a no-brainer to not paint your face any other color unless you're trying to be an alien, mutant or fantasy character, but there's still the matter of white straight men dominating the world of entertainment. The heroes, be them super, spy or regular are all the same dudes and the villains or supporting characters are always left to the more diverse selection of actors. Sometimes it's a matter of white-washing, other times it's a matter of centering it around the white guy and then there's the matter of "the inspirational story". It frustrates those who are of that race or sexuality that they can't get the main role that seems more geared to their appearance. Though acting is about becoming someone else, it does come to the detriment of someone else not being able to play their part. It's not only acting that's the problem, it's the representation of races, gender, disabled persons and sexuality in the media. Diversity is an issue has tons of angles to tackle from that it wouldn't be fair that what I have to say will cover all of it or even to it's fullest detail. My aim is more to get a general overview of the topic.

Now, you may notice I said Western media rather than just media in general. Well that's because the Western media is the one that has the largest challenge of multiculturalism. Other countries have their own issues with representing their population no doubt. Former Yugoslavian countries probably don't treat whoever their minority group is too fairly in their media, but we can somewhat agree that their population is more homogeneous than the US, Canada or the UK. Western media has to factor in that there's a lot of minority groups on their hands and that all of them together are more than their standard demographic. To an extent they're getting there, but not enough for people to stop complaining. See, there's always been sort of this complicated relationship between social progress and the media. For the most part, there's a party that always benefits and one that gets a nightstick shoved up their ass. When the latter pulls it out and starts chanting for change, a lot of art, entertainment and activism breaks out from it to be in support of the movement. Naturally there's tension but figures do seep through to the mainstream and make a bit of a change to improve the environment. When those do, the benefiting party then calls out "Alright, racism's over! Sexism is not a thing anymore!" whilst simultaneously telling the old joke about the Arab, the nigger and the spic who walked into a bar and "accidentally" knocking things down to get a peek at the secretary's panties. It's not that progress is an illusion, it's just that the amount made is. I thought racism was at the very least a lot less fucked up in the 21st century and then Ferguson happened. Things still aren't fairly leveled.

Though that's not to say that social structures haven't changed. Progress is still progress and in the current age of technology, everyone has a voice. As such, there's bound to be a lot of people who are creating and sharing their own stories which come from very diverse backgrounds. There's cultural diversity a plenty if we dig around the net long enough. So we can't really say that people aren't making an effort to tell these stories. Neither can we say that people aren't hearing those voices when there's enough of them. Works such as Orange Is The New Black or Book of Life are opening the doors for other perspectives in media to seep through. As well, we are getting actors, writers and directors exploring more roles than their race, sex or sexual preference would generally limit them to. Culture is being explored, sexuality is becoming a subject to talk about rather than suppress, important issues are being addressed in some ways. It's allowing people to become represented in some way, and representation can inspire others to make further advances. When you see someone like you in the media, you feel that you too can reach that level if you put in the effort, rather than be discouraged that the game is rigged against you.

Think about it in the context of an action movie. Everyone likes seeing action movies, they have people who are tough who do their best to fight evil and better themselves from the internal faults that stand in their way. Some of us look up to what those protagonists represent to us. There are tons of action movies that we watch and enjoy and respect. Now, if you add on top of it a multicultural cast and have the enemy be aliens, you are allowing more people to enjoy the product and be part of it positively. You'd have Pacific Rim, basically. That movie works so well not only because it gives way to various other characters of different cultures, but it treats them fairly. Action movies, as great as they are, will tend to have other nationalities as the enemy and the white badass man taking those bastards down a peg. Sometimes it's relatively harmless because we know it's not intentionally racist and that they connect it to a political issue. Other times, it gives off a bad taste because when it's seen so often and there's no other perspectives to even it out it feels more like an attack. Instead of that, we accentuate the better aspects of an action movie and include others on the good side to inspire more people. Having more of those stories and perspectives allows for this to happen. And sure they might be still have some issues with centering it around the white, straight and/or male (like Girls, Transparent and to a slight extent Orange Is The New Black), but we can't say that there isn't some progress being made, and large leaps at that. Certain circles are recognizing some of the efforts made by these people, others are not. That's not so much a problem as it is that there isn't enough chances being taken. People are still sort of leaning on the safe side of things.

Case in point, the superhero issue. It's becoming more of a routine to win easy diversity points by just changing an established superhero into someone of a different race or sexuality. Mostly you see this in comics, but people tend to not like it. Some complain that the heroes should just stay as they are which makes them sound like racists. Others complain that this is simply a superficial way to seem like they're making progress and really they only end up embarassing themselves either with stereotyping or just painfully progressive writing. It's not entirely crazy to perhaps give other people a try. I'm sure we'd love to see Idris Elba as the first black Bond, but maybe it would be better to see him as his own badass character in a separate production. It gives diversity more of weight if instead of replacing established roles to other groups that you already establish roles so that other groups can jump in. Even with that, there's a tendency to disregard it and simply go for the white straight man.

Look, I have nothing against the white straight man. I have a white straight man for a father and he's an alright guy. A lot of my favorite actors are white straight men. But I can understand when people get pissed off that the white straight man is playing a role designed for someone that's not a white straight man. It happens all the time when we have the Americanization of an Eastern movie, which not only shows the ignorance of Hollywood, but also their laziness. Not only there, but stories involving gay or transsexuals also have the issue of white straight men getting all the parts and more people are getting annoyed because of it. I'm sure that even disabled people are annoyed that the only ones that get to play those parts are white straight men (though really it may just be people that aren't disabled, period). These people want a chance too, so why not give it to them?

Well, there's a lot of reasons for it, but perhaps one that I'm interested most in is when an actor wants to push their own limits. The most challenging thing for an actor is if they stray as far from their own selves for a role. Fat actor becomes buff, shy actor becomes outgoing, straight actor becomes gay. They want to see that other side and some of them go to outrageous lengths to do it. This is prominent when an actor wants to play disabled as they look at people who have the condition they play as and spend hours imitating them to the point of exhaustion. We find that awe-inspiring to see an actor go to tremendous lengths to become someone so drastically different. Now, that can't happen with race because we know that blackface was never used as a way for white people to properly imitate a black person's plight so much as to make fun of them. Sexuality and disability though? It may be better since one can be more respectable about it, but we can't act like people are going to be peachy about it. 

Again, it's because it's at the expense of someone else getting the chance to play a role that people don't much like it when it's only left to people who are white, straight, male or a combination of the three. Though I understand why some of those actors play those roles. I left out that it's a matter of demographics, possible racism in Hollywood, the matter of "default" and a few others because I know that all actors want the wiggle room to play other roles. Some actors may be fine playing the same role, others want to avoid typecasting and stereotyping. And sometimes they want to play roles that transpire their own skin color and orientation, but those who already have that color and orientation should get the chance to play those roles as well as experiment if they so choose to. It seems prudish to simply say that every actor must play to their own ways, because then we might as well expect them to go through medical school if they're thinking about playing a doctor on screen. Though perhaps it wouldn't hurt if for a while we might have to let everyone just play to their own background and experiment in circumstances, until we even the environment enough so that people can play whatever they want if they're good enough at it. Although we sort of have it with voice acting, we need it more in live-action.

We need more stories to reflect more of the diversity of the world we live in. Those stories have to be big enough so that others can see. Having them in their own communities is fine if they're successful in them, but that success should be able to flourish in others if the product is well-crafted. When those who are not from the typical background make it through, we should not belittle them in their moment of grandeur or halfheartedly appreciate their efforts. We should be proud of them and acknowledge their efforts. I don't necessarily want all of them to be lauded endlessly simply because they're diverse, I just want more of them to have a chance on a larger stage so that more succeed. When more of them succeed, there's more appreciation and recognition for them. It's nice that there are a multitude of unique products that exist out there, but it doesn't seem fair that most of them are left underground rather than given a chance in the larger spectrum.

Whiplash From The Perspective Of A High School Jazz Band Member

When you're going to music class, there's always two choices. Either you go to the choir, or you go to band class. At my school, it seemed like an easy choice to go with the latter. Not that I wasn't a singer but I just didn't like the way it was conducted. Plus, I wanted to try something new. At first it wasn't anything special, but once we started getting more into the nitty-gritty and I moved to jazz band/ensemble, I started to get more of an interest in playing. I started to listen attentively and appreciatively at musicians like Louis Armstrong, Dave Brubeck, Glenn Miller, Wynton Marsellis, Benny Goodman, Gerry Mulligan, Art Pepper, John Coltrane, Oscar Peterson, and of course, Miles Davis. I managed to pull of some good solos and I always loved it when the sound had the rich flow of melted butter. I suppose that had a lot to do with my teacher, who played the trumpet (which coincidentally was my instrument of choice). He made the class fun for us while still keeping us focused. He was as much of a jokester as he was a professional, since he turned an apathetic group of middle/high school kids into competent players. . There's always that cliche of the parent attending their kid's band performance only to patronize the group, but I never seem to have gotten that being with my band teacher. Faculty, parents and students know how much effort and dedication he puts and we do our best to show it.

Unfortunately, I had to abandon it in senior year because I had other courses that I needed to be on top of for university. I had to return my rented trumpet back to the music store but I would have liked to have one of my own and continue to mess around with the sound and play a few pieces too. Even if I wouldn't become great at it, at the very least I could say that I can play one instrument with some level of competence. Christmas managed to grant me that wish and New Year's Day gave me the bonus of watching Whiplash, a movie that combined jazz, J.K Simmons and drama into Oscar buzz. I went to see it with my family and we had a very interesting conversation afterwards about it. We also managed to look up a few things here and there in regards to the movie, and one that struck to me was this negative review by Richard Brody. At first, I felt like this was just another pompous New Yorker piece (Buddy Rich clearly must be a good drummer if Wikipedia says so, you old jerk!), but then I gave it a less biased read and realized that he was looking at from the eye of a jazz music aficionado. His gripes didn't have the vibe of Armond White's contrarianism, more like Neil DeGrasse Tyson's points of scientific accuracy but with less kindness. Perhaps I don't agree completely with Mr. Brody, but I certainly respect his angle and I figure I'd try to mix in my amateurish jazz performance history with my affinity for film and drama in looking over the film.

Whiplash was made by Damien Chazelle, a French-American who enjoyed music but knew he wasn't going to be the next big thing, which made him go for filmmaking instead. He wrote the script for Grand Piano, another music-related drama film and would go about writing this story about a jazz drummer with an intense teacher, which was a very personal piece for him. That piece would then go evolve into a short film that then the feature film became. As stated before, the film has become such a hot topic that it is said that J.K Simmons is considered for an Academy Award. He plays as Terrence Fletcher, the maltempered maestro who shapes up Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) into becoming a better jazz drummer...that is until their relationship gets more maddening. Now, you might think that to be a bit redundant of me to say that but the film revolves heavily around these two characters. There are other characters that work themselves into the story but they are incredibly overshadowed, which, to be fair, doesn't really hurt the movie. 

It's worth pointing out that the whole conflict being centered between a drummer and the conductor was a clever choice. The drummer can sometimes become the de facto leader of a jazz band if they're good enough at it because they keep the rhythm for everyone else. Drummers usually start the performance if the conductor leaves and if you ever need a cue, you can depend on the drummer to give you a hint. And much like a conductor, if they're terrible, it will show. There have been times where I've seen bands where the rest of the group is alright but the drummer is completely lost and it sounds as bad as hearing My Funny Valentine played as a military march. I'm not all too sure if people will be aware of it when they see it or are aware of that sort of effect, but to put it in a simpler way, just imagine someone singing an operetta while someone beatboxes in the background.

The conductor aspect of the film is also spot on. My teacher wasn't a madman, but he would pick out certain people and be harsher on them for the sake of improvement. He's not as cruel as Fletcher, but the underlying philosophy of "Good job" being a marker of complacency does resonate with musicians. It does have to do with timing and pitch, because subtleties are something that the conductor will pick up and call you out on. They can build up and screw up the performance, especially if it comes from rhythm section, hence why Fletcher chews out the drummers more than the others. Thankfully, my teacher never mentally scarred anyone but he wasn't above throwing his baton at people who got on his nerves. Though saying that the person getting the baton thrown at them didn't have it coming is about as false as saying that Parker got a cymbal thrown to the head by Jo Jones.

Now I won't necessarily fault the movie for that stretch of reality. Much like I don't roll my eyes every time the teacher does something that would clearly get his ass fired or how Andrew is capable of tackling Fletcher. That's a matter of suspension of disbelief. What I will say is that I do take issue to Andrew's attitude to some level. For the most part, I understand his ambitions and I think the dining room scene was great to show how serious he is about drumming and how the world just doesn't seem to be at his favor. There is sympathy towards this character considering the abuse he gets from the teacher. But Brody brought up this good point about how his distance and the environment itself doesn't accurate represent jazz ensembles, considering that there's a lot more teamwork and less hostility. Vouching for that claim doesn't necessarily mean that in a professional environment that people are as friendly, even if it is for a group effort. Still, that isn't much of an issue to the story more than how selfish Andrew is. It may be a reaction to his father's condescending attitude towards his passion or it might just be the obsession taking its toll, but the smugness made me feel like punching him, even if he kicked ass at drumming.

Then again, it does make him more interesting. If I met Andrew, I'd probably want to punch him if he talked down to me, but if I met Miles Teller, I'd shake his hand and congratulate him for his performance. Same for Nate Lang and his character. Andrew may have his moments of being a jerk, but it does work in the context of the story and he has a reason to be cocky. He is also anti-social and by god does that show. The drumming really is a feat of work and the cinematography did well to hide when it was Lang hitting the drums. Though that's not to say that Miles didn't put in the effort to be good enough so that we could be fooled. The other musicians are fine as far as I can tell. For all I know, the trumpeters could have just been randomly pressing down keys, I'd have to watch it again to be sure. There was a trombonist who really didn't have a clue how the instrument worked, the slide was going all over the place. It might not act like a proper jazz ensemble, but at least it sounds like it.

Probably one of the greatest things about Whiplash is that the name is able to take on various meanings throughout the film. One of the most obvious ones is that there's a piece called Whiplash, which sounds like a tune that might drive many high-school jazz band instructors insane to get it sounding tolerable, let alone this professional group. Then, we have it by the way Fletcher keeps persisting, to the point of exhaustion, madness and bloodshed, which leads to some of the most intense moments in the film as well as some of the greatest shots. The most important definition of course has to be the relationship between Andrew and Terrence and the two of them. I already explained how Andrew tends to have moments of shifting, but Terrence is far more manipulative. It is fascinating to see how two-faced this man is and it makes you wonder if he's a tough-love guy who gets tougher with the things he loves, or a monster with musical expertise. It can be shocking to see how fast he changes and it works so well to make their connection all the more tangled and intense, delivering one hell of a punch for the end.

My years of playing the horn might not mean a damn thing when held up to other critics of this film, but I can certainly side with those who don't side favorably to it.  For one, playing until you go mad doesn't make you play any better, so much as get worse. There's also the matter of there being very little conversation involving music theory. Granted, I'm no expert at it, but my teacher did more than just tell us when we're wrong. Plus,There is a lot more unity when it comes to bands, especially jazz since it's about sharing your perspectives, your path. It's a open forum to experiment and to let your mind run wild. Jazz is all about unfiltered thought, which this film actually is capable of embodying. It certainly might have it's bumps, but it doesn't stop and apologize, it carries on, much like a good jazz solo does. Still, it's goal isn't so much to perfectly mirror a jazz band environment. It's instead taking a different spin on the "prodigy" story-line. Andrew is as much of a immensely-skilled underdog as any, but instead of turning people around into lauding his wonderful skill or having his rise and fall be immense leaps, it's being under the boot of a mentor who will use his weakness against him and not care how hard he tried if it didn't amount to a good performance. Terrence does see something different in Andrew (as any other mentor character does), but he doesn't see it coming out by simply giving him a smile and a pat on the back. Rather, he sees it coming out by full-time dedication.

It's not that hard to detach yourself from whatever liberties this movie has in terms of getting the mood of the band environment, because we have all at least met one person who beats down on you hard but expects you to become better because of it (or makes you question their true motives). Part of the reason I didn't want to go with choir was because one of teachers was especially harsh on others. If not, we know someone who has been a victim of being pushed too hard but yet is capable of some incredible work. I at least know this because I went to a private school where if you did well enough in a strand, you got a pin on your lapel. Some of the folks had so many pins, they were practically generals. Their parents would get on them and they barely had time for anything else. Sometimes seeing Andrew talking to others reminds me a little of how others were. And in art, that's no different. The most relevant example is Lang Lang, who can play the piano incredibly fast but had an incredibly overbearing father. Hell, artists tend to be pretty hard on themselves and do some crazy things as they try to seek their best. Ultimately, the movie asks a very typical question: We all want to be great, but what is the cost of that greatness? To which I'm sure many who have seen it would response with not getting a chair thrown at them.