Go See Inception

I feel as though I could say more, but it's hardly necessary. Inception was a fantastic movie. I doubt I'm the first person to tell you that. If you haven't seen it, you need to. Now.

I love movies like Memento, Donnie Darko, and the like that play with your mind, not always telling you what to believe and letting you make some of the decisions for yourself. But Inception has something that a lot of these don't: a personal connection. Most of us have never been stalked by an ominous evil-looking rabbit that told us to destroy things, and anyone who watched Memento that actually had short-term memory loss would have had a hell of a time trying to follow the story. Meanwhile, we all have dreams. And a lot of the elements used in Inception can be connected to the way we see our dreams behave in real life.

Weirdly, the movie also tied in quite nicely with my previous post regarding dreams (which, if you missed, you can see right here). Much of what I said about the dreams being the keys to our subconscious, the way they bring out the most important parts of our memories, the way they can impact us, is all present in the movie. Obviously there are no right answers regarding this sort of thing, so it didn't do much to validate my point, but it was fun for me to see the connections.

I can see some connections being made between Inception and The Matrix in the near future; they're both about false worlds entered from a real one, manipulated by its inhabitants. But I thought Inception was undoubtedly better. The Matrix had some great moments, but Inception used its caveats to their full potential, showed us characters that are engaging and had interesting backgrounds, and possibly most of all, had actors that can actually act and writing that works well with them. Not only was Keanu Reeves a downright pathetic lead, but his shoehorned romance with the one female in the movie whose name escapes me felt completely engineered and like the writers only put it in because they thought there had to be romance. The relationships in Inception felt real and engaging.

Look, now I'm just beating a dead horse. Go see Inception. You won't regret it.

I'm planning on posting every Thursday from now on, because I can't really expect you guys to read more often than once a week, and Thursday is clearly the worst day of the week for reasons I could go into but won't. So I'm hoping to brighten that day up a bit. Please comment, because I like to think that people read this, and that's my only way of knowing if they do.

Quality by Reputation

Is it going to become a trend for me to start blog posts around midnight? Bah. Inspiration strikes when it does, and I usually have a computer handy around that time anyway.

Two things happened to me today that made me think about people's perception of others. I realized that there is a point where people start to like things that are made by those they like, regardless of the quality. Not just tell them that they like it, as manners would have them do, but legitimately enjoy it. I know it seems kind of obvious on paper(/your screen), but it was especially clear to me today.

I've been working at a children theatre academy for the last two weeks now, and today all the groups presented what they've been working on to their parents and whonot. This included improvisation, and one of my students chose to, despite my encouragement to take a risk and try something new, use a character that had made numerous appearances throughout the last week, named Jerry. I was absent on the day Jerry was introduced, but I'd seen him more than once. Trust me, the kid made sure of it.

Every time Jerry was used in improv class, all of my students would burst out laughing at almost everything he said. But I never found Jerry to be as amusing as they did. However, I found I wasn't the only one today, as Jerry was causing the class to laugh their brains out onstage, while the audience only looked on with blank faces.

It was then that I realized that Jerry wasn't actually funny at all. Perhaps he was upon his first appearance, but each subsequent time added nothing new and nothing entertaining. Our class only found Jerry to be so funny because they made the decision in their heads that Jerry was hilarious, and the reputation they created around him brought them to be so entertained.

The other event of the day was my attempt at starting to read Tarantula, the only novel ever written by Bob Dylan. At least, I'm told it's a novel. It says so in the introduction. But the book is largely incoherent nonsense. It reads like a stream-of-consciousness Bob Dylan song in a way, but less coherent, and 150 pages long. Given the ability to write as much as he wanted, he did, and about anything and everything. It feels like my brain was put into a blender with a poetry book and a thesaurus.

Here's a sample of the book, and I assure you this is not an exception in his writing style: "manuscript nitemare of cut throat high & low & behold the prophesying blin allegiance to law fox, monthly cupid & the intoxicating ghosts of dogma...nay & may the boatmen in bathrobes be banished forever & anointed into the shelves of alive hell, the unimaginative sleep, repetition without change & fat sheriffs who watch for doom in the mattress..." (Note: the formatting is all his.)

It feels like something my English teacher would say has a deep and powerful meaning, but my class scoffs at behind her back. Thus, the majority of America would also find this to be hogwash, and with a name like Bob Dylan behind the book, I'm shocked it hasn't become infamous. But rather, my research shows that the book has received almost nothing but praise. And I did my research on the internet, which is probably the harshest critical environment in the world.

Why? Because it has Bob Dylan's name on it. Since Dylan's music is brilliant, his fans loved the book before they even bought it.

So is this phenomena a good thing or a bad thing? It could trick someone into liking something they wouldn't otherwise, and give them enjoyment out of an otherwise useless piece. But it also makes it much more difficult for new artists and writers to emerge when viewers are so connected to their favorite, despite their potential talent and ability to surpass their predecessors. Whatever it may be, there isn't anything we can do about it anyways.

So if you think I'm right or wrong, if you read Tarantula and found it to be moving, if you were in my improv class and want to explain what it was that was so funny about Jerry, let me know in the comments. Or just let me know you read this. Whatever. Comments boost my self esteem.

I Am The Dreamer, Without Any Dream

I'm supposed to be in bed right now, but what's the difference? I wanted to write something a few nights ago, but now it's gone. I'll gladly sacrifice some sleep to deliver content to my 5 loyal followers. Besides, not only would the thunderstorm outside keep me awake, but it's sleep I want to discuss.

I would be a bit more willing and enthusiastic to go to sleep if I know I would get a dream out of it. I don't I don't like to say "I don't dream" or "I didn't have a dream" as some do, because I read somewhere that you always have dreams, you just forget most of them. So I will say that I hardly ever have any recollection of my dreams upon waking up, let alone in the hours or days to follow.

Over the past year or so, I've only remembered 3 dreams in full the next morning. I've garnered the vague details of about 3 or 4 more. The other hundreds or thousands of dreams are lost forever, their meanings and contents evaporated, never to be experienced by another soul.

Luckily, the ones that I remember have left an impact. One featured my new friend and my crush both trying to kill me. Another had a sadistic creature trying to force me to murder children. The third included an encounter with the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. Neither of the first two were particularly pleasant dreams at the time, and the third didn't transform me into a devote Christian, but I'm glad I've had them all. Not only do they provide good stories, but I'm convinced that they've stuck with me like this because they tell me something about myself. I don't know what it is. But it's definitely something.

Dreams are a rare and unique opportunity. It isn't often that humans get to peek into their subconsciousness, see what it is that happens within their own minds without them even knowing. Dreams are the most visible manifestation of this part of ourselves that we have. In fact, if dream analysts are to be believed, it seems it has a better idea of what's going on then we do. Granted, it has a very cryptic way of displaying itself, but we make do with what we can.

The thing that stirred me to write this tonight was a dream my friend described to me about a conversation with God. For privacy's sake, I won't disclose its contents, but I found the dream to be incredible, powerful and even uplifting. In a society surrounded by Christian ideas, this dream was possibly the most powerful evidence I've ever heard for the existence of God. And this person is an atheist.

Was it actually a visit from God? Maybe. Probably not. But I know that dream means something to its dreamer, and is maybe the key to a part of them that they didn't know was there.

So I wish I could remember more dreams. I'd really like to get to know me better.

If you actually had the patience to read this whole thing, and if you want to share any of your dreams or your opinions about the impact of dreams on our lives, let me know in the comments. Sorry about the length, but I have a lot to say. I'll try to trim it down with practice.

Soccer Is Slow For A Reason

If I continue this blog for 20 years, this will be one of maybe four sports-related posts you will ever see. If, of course, you're reading this blog already. Which I'm guessing you aren't.

I've recently developed a sizable soft spot for soccer, and I've followed the World Cup with moderate loyalty. Unfortunately, living in America, this was not the norm. For every vuvuzela-tooting soccer fanatic I spoke to, I was also encountered with someone saying, "I don't like soccer. Soccer is boring."

This person just doesn't understand.

My dad was this person several weeks ago, as he mentioned his distaste for soccer as we waited for the NBA finals game to start. "Oh, yeah, you can see games that end in such exciting scores as 1 to 1." (Ironically, this was followed by one of the lowest-scoring NBA games I've ever seen.)

True, there is a lot of time between goals. But by no means is there nothing happening in that time. Soccer is able to pride itself in a game that never has a dull moment. The ball ends up in the goalie's box every few minutes or so, and every time that happens, it somehow doesn't matter that you know the ball probably won't go in. You're on the edge of your seat, knowing exactly what it means if that ball were to go in.

American football can have the same triumphant plays at times, and has the same space between them. But the game stops constantly, deciding new plays, getting in position, even merely for the sake of playing more commercials. Soccer doesn't do that, and the game as a whole benefits from it.

I missed the two semifinals games due to work, and thus had to simply watch recaps on FIFA's website. I found both to be completely unenjoyable, because all marvel of the game was lost when condensed into 3 minute highlight reels. I was delighted to see the two final games in full, where they're presented in a way that works.

So, finishing this at midnight, that's my first real post. It's probably a bit lower quality than the rest will be, with the hour and what not, but stick around, there are more posts on the way.

You Will Not Read This Post

And yet, if you know what this says right now, you are reading this post, I suppose. Still, this will probably apply to no one.

Maybe a somewhat depressing note to start a blog with, but kind of true. It's a big Internet out there, and most people have better things to do with their time than reading the blog of some random high school student. Maybe their definition of "better things" means looking at pictures of cats in strange situations with captions that are misspelled for what is supposedly comic effect. But hey, I won't judge.

The point I'm trying to get to, and I'm going to just go ahead and jump to it without any coherent segway, is that I'm a writer. I hope to write to make a living someday. And even if I don't, I'll still be a writer for the rest of my life.

If you've ever listened to a writer talk about their craft (and I've listened to a lot), and if you've ever heard them give advice to aspiring young writers, the one thing they always say is to write constantly, and never stop. So that's what I'm doing here.

What you'll see on this blog will vary drastically. Some days might yield a poem or a short story. Others might be a piece on music or video games, or their respective industries. As a guitarist, singer and songwriter, you may see bits about whatever I'm working on at the time. And sometimes, I'll probably just want to tell the world about something that really pisses me off.

One more thing to address: What the hell does Cave of Pasta mean? If you see me anywhere on the internet, I'll probably be there under the name RamenDragon. It's my username on everything from Twitter to Facebook to Yahoo to Playstation Network to Pure Volume to Gamesradar. There's no real story behind where it came from; I was asked for a username on one occasion, and it was first thing that popped into my head. Thus, the Cave of Pasta is my dwelling, my place of comfort, the one place on the Internet I can call my own.

Don't read it if you don't want to, and you probably won't. I just need a place to write. So here it is.