I could write an entire post about how good a novella The Old Man and the Sea is, but the Pulitzer Prize committee has conveniently done that for me. Suffice to say that reading Hemingway is like living a lucid dream, as ideas leap off the page into your head. And they stay there, like ribs between your teeth after a barbecue. By writing plainly, and not making the reader jump through literary hoops and ladders, Hemingway lets his ideas speak for themselves. And there are plenty in its 127 pages worth remembering.

The titular character is one of my favorites from recent memory. He is a poor Cuban fisherman whose glory days seem to be long past, but he could be any one of us, especially those of us reeling from this difficult year. His spirit is remarkable. He is lonely (though he has the touching adoration of a young boy), he is old, and he is salao , having gone for more than two months without catching any fish, but none of that stops him from picking up his mast, stringing his bait, and in general facing each new day as an opportunity to change his luck.

Being an optimist myself, of course I find all of that beautiful. However even more appealing than the old man’s courage is his commitment to the moment. He draws spiritual energy from his dreams (the lions on the beach at dusk he saw as a youth), but he never lets nostalgia or wishful thinking hold him back, even during his epic struggle with a thousand-pound marlin in the middle of the Gulf Stream:

“You should have brought many things, he thought. But you did not bring them, old man. Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.”

It’s a lesson all of us can do well to learn. How many times have we held ourselves back with thoughts of what might have been or what we could have done, instead of focusing on the present, which is the only time that really counts?

The ending is remarkably bittersweet. I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t had the  pleasure of getting that far, but perhaps it (and the whole story) is best summed up by these words.

“But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated.“

Hope has many faces. There are those of us who dream of great things, but the fact of the matter is: most of us have to struggle even to get by. But if we keep up our efforts, even in the face of withering adversity, we have already won a first victory over failure.

Like most good children’s stories, Coraline starts with a disaffected youth – Coraline Jones (voiced expressively by Dakota Fanning), who has just moved to an unfamiliar neighborhood. Her parents mostly ignore her, and the closest thing she has to a friend is Wybie, a neighborhood boy who skulks around in a welding mask. It isn’t long before she starts exploring her new apartment, and stumbles upon another version of our world – one in which everyone and everything she knows seems to be perfect – or is it?

The story unfolds through stylish, colorful, stop-motion animation that may remind you of The Nightmare Before Christmas. One gets the sense that each of the charming characters and creatures was molded to fit its personality, from Coraline’s long-necked, bookish father, to the generously proportioned Miss Forcible, an old lady who reads omens in tea-leaves when she isn’t serving taffy made before the turn of the century. But it’s the director’s use of 3D that truly sets this film apart. Instead of going for the cheap thrills (creatures and people erupting from the screen), Selick uses 3D in a more subtle manner, adding depth to each scene, pulling our eyes further into Coraline’s world so that after a few minutes, you’d be convinced you were watching a stage production or a pop-up storybook come to life. I’d go as far as to say it’s the best 3D film I’ve ever seen – and a perfect guideline of what all movies that make you put on those funky glasses should try to achieve.

And it’s clear that everyone had fun making this movie – when the inhabitants of the other world are showing off their charms to Coraline, there are few scenes where you won’t laugh, cringe (in a good way!), or gasp at some animated sleight of hand. Unfortunately, the narrative suffers in the face of all the eye-candy – the second act dragged on longer than it should, and it felt a lot longer than its 1 hour and 40 minutes. Since it’s being marketed as a children’s film, I might also add that it has its share of very unsettling (though rarely crude or violent) moments that gave me the heebie jeebies. I happen to like the heebie jeebies, and don’t believe in coddling kids, but if your little ones are prone to nightmares, consider yourself warned.

So, if you’re a Tim Burton or Neil Gaiman fan, seeing this is a no-brainer. If you’re not, you will still enjoy the raw creativity and imagination bubbling in each frame. And if you’re making 3D movies – let this one show you how it’s done.

I was going to indulge the writer in me, writing a protracted monologue about going on vacation, taking time off to rediscover myself, etc, etc, etc, but sometimes life offers you much better material than you can make up. I was on my way to see Sea World by the seashore when this…er…heavily customized vehicle pulls up next to me. I know that Florida has its conservative Christian elements, but…well, just look for yourself!

Fear the Jesus Car! But considering that I’m in the home of Disney World, Sea World, and Universal Studios, this kitschy approach to devotion may not be so out of place…

As you may have heard, in my infinite intelligence, I left my USB cable back in New York – meaning that I had to go for two full days without downloading (or backing up) my precious Shamu pictures! One (expensive!) trip to Best Buy later, I can now show you faithful readers exactly what I’ve been doing in the Sunshine State. I’ll post more photos when and if I get the time – and if the free Wi-Fi still works.

Until then, cheers, everyone!

Most days they invite themselves over, emerging from the recesses of your mind, making themselves home in your consciousness while you’re doing something else – reading another book, watching a movie, listening to the news. They’re the “what ifs” an imaginative mind is always asking. Most of the time they pass. “Someone else can do it better”, we might reason. “That’s been done already – too cliché!” we might suppose. Or perhaps the most disheartening reason of all – “Nobody cares!”

Who knows? Those reasons might very well be true. On the other hand, there are some ideas that resonate with us so strongly that we feel compelled to pursue them nevertheless.

The idea behind this story was one of those. After returning from my European vacation last year, I felt compelled to write it. At the time, I didn’t know why. Looking back with 20/20 hindsight, I realize that the main character in this story was, in many ways, a projection of myself onto the page. Having just graduated school, about to start my career, I wondered what it would be like to make some past decisions – even small ones – differently.

I’m not quite sure what to do with it now. It’s in a pretty rough state, but I satisfied something within myself by writing it. Hopefully you’ll find it an interesting read as well.

Memories of Hazey Jane

Two years ago, I finally got to reading a book everyone told me I ought to read – The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, the bestselling Brazillian author. It was a short, but deeply moving tale with hard-hitting truths that belied its simplicity.

It was just as well that I read it then; as a soon-to-be college graduate, its lessons on following your dreams and Personal Legend especially resonated with me. Imagine my delight, then, to learn that Coelho wrote a companion to The Alchemist, called “Warrior of the Light“. From the title, I was expecting something of a Cervantean romance, with a life-affirming quest, intriguing characters, and a rock-solid hero unfazed by even the largest of obstacles.

This past week, I read it – not what I was expecting!

Though the book begins with an intriguing fable about a boy searching for a temple under the sea, this frame story is quickly concluded, as the book soon reveals its raison d’être – teaching, instead of storytelling. Instead of another novel, Coelho has written a very personal treatise, summarizing his ideas on how how live a rich, fulfilling life. In the tradition of books such as The Art of War, Warrior of the Light is filled with page after page of thoughtful aphorisms meant to guide us through life’s tough moments.

For example, Coelho has some encouraging thoughts on the importance of establishing a work/life balance:

“If the strings of an instrument are always taught, they go out of tune……that is why, even if he is not in the mood, the Warrior of the Light tries to enjoy the small everyday things of life”.

For men and women of great responsibility, sometimes working in the shadow of our predecessors can be too much to bear. Or perhaps others take it upon themselves to consistently remind you just how much rides on your words and actions. Coelho reminds us that we don’t need to have all the answers today:

“A responsible Warrior is not someone who takes the weight of the world on his shoulders, but someone who has learned to deal with the challenges of the present.”

Some of the book’s passages are especially relevant to today’s climate. Having just gone through a rough election cycle, during which members from both parties attempted to paint each other as out-of-touch, incompetent, and sometimes just plain wicked, this reminder especially rings true:

“In order to have faith in his own path, he does not need to prove that someone else’s path is wrong”.

Occasionally, Coelho puts his own words aside and directly quotes other well-known thinkers, such as Chico Xavier and Lao Tzu. Just who are these Warriors of the Light? A character at the end of the frame story remarks that he is “someone capable of understanding the miracle of life, of fighting to the last for something he believes in.” In other words, any of us who are willing to accept life’s uncertainty and to struggle for what we believe in, whether we be artists, politicians, activists – or even ordinary people. This is the core of Coelho’s philosophy – pursuing our dreams, holding true to our principles while doing so, and doing so while humbly accepting guidance from this world and above.

I think it’s worth a read. Some may consider Coelho’s thoughts to be “new-agey”, but I think they’re surprisingly very pragmatic, even if they err on the side of idealism. You may have heard some of these ideas before, from other philosophers and writers, but Coelho has a talent for making these teachings so warm and accessible, that you’ll likely find yourself returning to them again and again, even if you’re not into spirituality or philosophy.

Warrior of the Light – A Manual

Take for instance, an e-mail I got this morning while I was wasting time on Twitter looking for another job. The subject: Things girls don’t realize…Take NOTE. Looking at the headers, I saw that it was forwarded to dozens upon dozens of netizens, some friends, some strangers; with so many unsuspecting lives at stake, I decided to take the risk of opening said e-mail, and judge the worth of its contents for itself:

5. Guys hate it when you talk about your ex-boyfriend or ex love-interest. Unless they’re goin for the let-her-complain-to-you-and-then-have-her-realize-how-wonderful-and-nice-you-are method.

This is demonstrably FALSE. In the checkered past of my female relationships, having little going for me but my “niceness”, I have tried this approach, and I can assure you, dear readers, that it DOES NOT WORK. What usually happens is that the male will tolerate discussion of his rival up to a certain point, after which he will either:

1. Lash out against girl.
2. Have a nervous breakdown.
3. Impatiently blurt out secret, forbidden, romantic feelings, culminating in awkwardness, embarrassment, and possibly a restraining order.

If you don’t believe my hard-earned experience, perhaps you’ll believe the following clip from Felicity. For most of the first season, Noel Crane (the nervous-looking dude pacing around), though harboring feelings for the title character, has been reduced to the embarrassing “best friend” role, which Felicity conveniently uses to complain to him about her real love interest – Ben. Despite his best intentions, it all comes to a head one night during finals week:

Granted, he was on “smart powder” – a substance that makes Ephedra look like cough syrup. But the point is QED, no? Learn from Noel’s mistakes.

2. Guys may be flirting around all day, but before they go to sleep, they always think about the girl they truly care about.

This is TRUE. So ladies, don’t be mad when you discover breathy voicemails on our phones, strange credit card bills from hotels, or suspicious perfume smells in our car. Whether we’re really working late or not, rest assured, we are thinking about you. We wonder whether you’ll notice that small red mark just above our collarbone.

4. Guys will do anything just to get you to notice him.

TRUE, unfortunately. Among the things I have done to impress women:

1. Fixed their computers (which have usually seen more virus infections than the CDC)
2. Written “Heavily edited” whole papers.
3. Derived thermodynamic equations.
4. Wrote an O(|E|+|V| log V) implementation of Dijkstra’s Algorithm.

The logic behind it seemed so infallible – my undying love would be unmistakable, if not through my words, then through the gusto and cleverness with which I approached said tasks. Did it work? Usually they just thanked me graciously, and moved on. Once or twice I was offered a vanilla latte. Unfortunately, as you can see, discussing search algorithms is not a particularly effective form of flirtation. :-/

34. When a guy hits your butt it means that he wants you sexually

This is most definitely FALSE – unless he’s itching to see the inside of a courtroom.

There used to be a time when men could sashay down most any boulevard, wolf whistling, poking, and prodding without worrying about troublesome things such as feminism, a woman’s dignity, etc, etc, etc. As poor Isiah Thomas found out earlier this year, times have changed; these days, men actually have to be civil in their dealings with the fairer sex. Imagine that!

Thus, any man with a head on his shoulders, or at least a good lawyer, will only touch the posterior of a woman with whom he is in a relationship. And if he’s in a relationship with said woman, the presence of sexual desire is usually not a question. Otherwise, we can usually file it under the category “Accident”.

It happened to me, on the bus, in seventh grade. As I held up my Discman to change the CD, the prettiest girl in the grade chose that moment to slide up the aisle. There was brief contact between fabric and fingers; she turned around, shocked and not amused:

“What the f-you touched me!”

“I couldn’t help it!” I said weakly. “I mean, they were right there…”

To make a long story short, I nearly ended up in the principal’s office, when my hand was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Having just reread this message, I realize I was supposed to forward it within a hour of reading. As a result, I have lost the girl of my dreams, will start losing my hair, and will die of drug-resistant pneumonia. Please consider this information carefully, readers, so my…sacrifice…was not…in vain…

I still consider myself a Koop-a Troopa (sorry, couldn’t resist!), but while cruising their Last.fm page the other day, I found an interesting case of musician-fan disconnect. Apparently the artists themselves have registered on the site to voice their discontent with their presentation on Last.fm. I’ll let their words speak for themselves.

therealkoop wrote:
Koop would like to remind people that this is not a sight set up by Koop. * Songs are missing on albums, and names are wrong. * Videos for some songs are missing, and has been replaced by amature stuff. * Some tags are beyond stupid, and since that the so called “Koop Radio” is playing music we don’t like at all. People behind this is not only making money on our music, they are also humiliating us artisticly. If you wish to connect with Koop please turn to myspace.com/koop Sincerely.

Fair enough – There are hundreds of artists on Last.fm, and a lot of the site content is user-generated (go Web 2.0!), so there are prone to be errors here and there. What’s interesting is that they claim the site is “making money off our music” and “humiliating us artisticly [sic]“.

It doesn’t stop there, of course. The internet is serious business. Trying to correct what he perceives as a misunderstanding, another user responds:

gazab wrote:
therealkoop: I think you’ve misunderstood this site completely. Most content on this page is generated by us, your fans. Our listening patterns generate similiar artists and therefor the “Koop Radio”, we set the tags and so on. The main purpose of Last.fm is simply to help people find new exciting music they like. Without this page I would never have heard about you! So be glad this exists. This has probably given you way more new fans (and money) than myspace ever could. Trust me, this is NOT bad PR. Now continue make great music!

To which therealkoop responds:

therealkoop wrote:
We don’t make music because we want to be liked by as meny as possible. We don’t do this for money. We make music because we want our message to come across, and our message is clearly beeing outwatered on this site. We don’t think Koop should be defined by a broad majority that listen briefly to our music. Koop should be defined by the minority that regard us as something more than 2 songs in a lastfm library.

Needless to say, I was shocked and amused. But this begs the title question of the post: What’s the artist got to do with it, anyway? More specifically, how much should the artist’s wishes affect our enjoyment of his/her/their work?

Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for protecting artistic integrity and intellectual property – if someone trolled this site for my photographs, not giving me credit, and thus violating the terms of even my very generous Creative Commons license, I would be pissed. After all, if art is the window through which we see into the artist’s creative world, it’s pretty damned important to keep that window spotless.

But once our audience is at the window, the fact is that we can’t control how they perceive our work – nor should we try. Attempting to force a particular interpretation or view onto our audience would be as dictatorial as trying to prosecute thoughtcrime; not only would it stifle often productive critical discussion, art would be dull if there were only one or two interpretations to any given work.

Ultimately, though, if you’re worried about your “message being outwatered”, it might pay to have faith in your fans. Of course, there will be those with only a passing interest in your work, but if you make yourself available, you might be surprised to find that some will actually take the effort to see for themselves what you’re about.

Who wouldn't want to spend a crazy night in NYC? (Copyright Columbia Pictures, obtained from Wikipedia)

So – after passing the above poster in the subways all of last September, and much protracted curiosity and anticipation, I finally got to see Michael Cera’s new film – Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, about a pair of quirky teenagers who connect by means of serendipity, the chaos of the Big Apple, and (most importantly) the power of music. Though it wasn’t everything I expected, it had enough surprises and charming moments to make it worth my 90 minutes and popcorn.

The movie opens with Michael Cera’s Nick leaving a delightfully awkward voicemail for Tris (Alexis Dziena), his “sort-of” ex – vaguely attempting to bring closure to their mismatched relationship, even as he finishes burning yet another CD dedicated to her. His bandmates (”The Jerk-Offs”, though other charming names are later explored), convince him to join them at a gig on the Lower East Side, where he meets Norah (Kat Dennings), who, seeking to make a point, asks him to be her boyfriend “for five minutes”. So begins the tale, which meanders from the Bowry Ballroom to Union Pool, the East Village, Midtown, and back in search of a love, an intoxicated friend, and a band called “Where’s Fluffy”.

If I had only one word to describe this movie, it would be “awkward”. If I had another, it might be “earnest”. The former is definitely not always a bad thing – a good chunk of adolescence is all about awkwardness – spotting adulthood on the horizon, exploring your new-found freedoms, and (dare I say it) finding yourself. And at the moment, there are few actors other than Cera who perform so…awkwardly well. He manages to infuse his character with an array of lovable insecurities, which make you alternate between wanting to embrace him and shake him to his senses. Dennings is also reasonably good as Norah, who exhibits a pitiable codependency when not wielding her acerbic tongue. The two have a chemistry which is probably best described as “cautiously magnetic” – part of the movie’s fun is watching them slowly each other, drawing closer as the night moves on.

As for earnestness – the film strives for candor, but I greatly appreciate the fact that it doesn’t try too hard. Though these teens are pretty precocious (not one “adult” character in sight), they neither speak in a contrived patois of “cool”, nor do they act like miniature thirty-somethings. Also admirable is the fact that the writers, for the most part, steer clear of those two ancient cliches of “teen movies” – booze and uninhibited sex, and allow the story to develop more organically.

The film is not without its problems, though. The pacing is terribly uneven – whereas films like American Graffiti had strong plotlines that kept the ensemble cast on its feet, some parts of the film drag, almost as if the filmmakers decided to drop the cast and crew in the middle of the Village to see what happens. The dialog, while lovably awkward, is a bit sparse, and sometimes falls flat completely. When this happens, the actors stare at each other intently, as if waiting for someone to pick up the pieces of the scene. Also, the film’s two biggest costars – the location (New York in its nocturnal glory), and the bands (Bishop Allen, the Nellie Olesons, among others), felt woefully underused – as if tacked-on to the movie to give it more credibility.

Still, the fresh screenplay and the charm of the young cast make this make this romp through New York worth the trip to theaters, or at least the next spot on your Netflix queue. It will be interesting to see if this role (the uneasy adolescent) characterizes the future of Michael Cera’s career.

The Verdict: ★★★½☆ 

And of course, there’s always the pleasant smell of a few green ones in the wallet. Nothing wrong with that, of course.

But here’s an interesting thought experiment – how much are you really getting paid for all those working hours?

If you’re an hourly worker, the answer is fairly obvious. But what if you’re salaried? Then things get a bit more interesting. One might think that someone off the clock necessarily has it better, but being the brutally direct engineer I am, I prefer to let the math speak for itself:

Your Hourly Rate = (Total Compensation) / (Hours Per day * Days Per week * Total Weeks Per Year)

Your Total Compensation should include your base salary, as well as any fat, juicy bonuses that might be heading your way (or not). Your Hours Per Day should probably be a moderate estimate – on one hand, you may not be at the grindstone every second of every day, but your time at the office is still valuable. Your Days Per Week should take into account the days you’re really at work – this might include weekend support rotations. As for your Total Weeks Per Year, subtract your vacation days (usually 2-3 work week’s worth, in my industry).

Plug and chug. The answer might be surprising.

Disclaimer: This very rough equation obviously doesn’t take into account health benefits, stock options, gym membership, free strawberries and muffins, or any of the little things that sweeten up jobs. And of course, comparing two industries is like comparing apples and oranges – hour by hour, I might make the same amount of money as the driver of a concrete mixer, but I’d make a terrible truck driver.

But if you compare your job situation to that of your friends and peers, you might be able to see if you’re being fairly compensated for all of your efforts. Salaries alone usually don’t tell the whole story.

“Why?” I asked. At the time, it seemed like we couldn’t have been in a better spot – a lean (6 person), innovative, highly visible team who never had a dearth of interesting projects and people to work with.

She shrugged. “My life…things here just haven’t gone as I expected.”

One year later, those words are still with me. Having been through many a rough spot myself, I can sympathize – in fact, I almost found myself repeating them to my boss in a protracted “discussion” about my working schedule. So why were my colleague and I – successful financial software developers, suddenly so dissatisfied?

The answer is really quite simple – In giving our lives to the firm, we began to starve ourselves – creatively, socially; we began to hear the echo within our increasingly vacant lives.

This past Wednesday, we met up for the first time since her departure – ironically enough, right near Wall Street, at the row of cramped bars/restaurants on Broad. Ducking out of the rain, wading through a sea of exhausted Goldman employees, we sat down, sharing bruschetta, a vegetarian pizza, and stories from the past year. What did I tell her? Two weeks after the bankruptcy, I’ve gotten pretty good at narrating the tale.

Her story was even more interesting. In the year since she left, her life has improved exponentially – she gets out more, she’s found a boyfriend, as well as another passion – raising chickens! Her new job may not be as fast-paced as those in the financial sector, but at least she gets out on time! Everything in her demeanor – her placid eyes, her laid-back smile – gave me a glimpse into the satisfaction of someone living life on her own terms.

It makes me wonder – what if I had the courage to suddenly make a change in my life. Can I transform my creative life while keeping this career, or is it time to pack it up and move on to something less…stifling?