Category Archives: Thought of the Week

Once-weekly posts on whatever nonsense crosses my mind.

Thought of the Week: Rowling’s Labryinth

My son and I just recently finished reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I have to admit that, considering the book is several hundred pages longer than its three predecessors, I wasn’t quite sure what was filling up all those pages. It got good – very good – at the end, but I can’t help feeling that it was, compared to Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, it felt somewhat bland. Other than a whole lot of prepubescent love interest, nothing really happened.

We may not read the rest of the books for a while. Goblet of Fire noticeably takes a turn into darkness, and I’m not sure if we’re ready for that (ironic, considering the nature of the story I’m writing for him). Nonetheless, we enjoyed it, finished it, and moved on. We’re revisiting The BFG at the moment (which is pretty darn dark in its own way!).

Another ritual he and I have is Friday movie nights. Netflix has become an invaluable instrument in our weekly film fix, and we’ve watched anything from the awful Jackie Chan movie Spy Next Door to the slightly better The Accidental Spy, among others. This week we watched The Dark Crystal for the first time. I had not seen it before, and I must say, I was swept away by the story, the beauty and the sheer dedication of the animatics in the movie. It was made in 1982, and puts Team America: World Police to shame. In more ways than one.

Before that, we watched another Jim Henson masterpiece; one that I remember well from my own childhood: Labyrinth. Does anyone remember a terribly young Jennifer Connelly and a terribly camp David Bowie? Must have been heaven for her, I’m sure! It was a real treat to visit this surreal, acid-trip vision of my youth, and I couldn’t help pausing the movie from time to time to point out particular things to my son. Imagine having to explain David Bowie. Whew.

In the proceedings, I noticed a few other things as well. Things that rang a bell from elsewhere.

Hoggle…or Hogwarts?

As you may have noticed at the head of the post, I have placed side by side (top by bottom?) a still from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and Labyrinth. Does anyone see a resemblance? Now, surely mazes aren’t particularly uncommon – there’ve been plenty of movies and stories that have featured them, The Shining and Alice in Wonderland amongst others. Both of these predate Labyrinth and Harry Potter. In truth, at first I didn’t even see any connection.

But then, a couple of other things happened. Remember Hoggle? A grumpy, self-depricating and ultimately heroic little dwarf who guides Sarah through the maze. When we are first introduced to him, Sarah in her distraction mistakenly calls him Hogwart. Hogwart – really? This was the first coincidence I picked up on, and pointed it out in laughter – imagine they both came up with the same name!

A little later, my suspicions were raised. Remember the big, hairy, somewhat dimwitted monster that befriends Sarah and has some bizarre power to control rocks? Name’s Ludo. Yes, Ludo. Just like Ludo Bagman, the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Ludo Bagman…maybe.

They say you need at least three points to plot a graph. I wouldn’t want to go so far as to say Ms. Rowling took inspiration from Labyrinth; however, it feels these are a few coincidences too far. Two characters that share names with Rowling’s universe, and a giant maze that serves as the testing ground, and ultimately the transformation from child to adult, in both stories? I just don’t know…

Anyway, it turns out I’m not the first one to think of this, as a quick Google search will tell you. Some people see the coincidences; some dismiss them. I don’t necessarily want to make a claim either way, but just bring it to your attention: what do you think?

Thought of the Week: An Open Letter to Descartes

Dear Monsieur Descartes,

I wish to bring to your attention a matter of accountability regarding your well-known writings on philosophy and rationalism. It is my belief that you are responsible for a great deal of emotional distress and suffering, and I am seeking reparations for both myself and my fellow sufferers in the form of an acknowledgement of the negative influence of your treatises, and a public apology. For the moment I am willing to forego monetary compensation for the therapy and medication we have collectively paid for, as I am aware three-hundred and fifty years’ compound interest might be beyond your financial means.

Allow to explain. I in no way wish to dismiss your excellent contributions to the fields of philosophy and mathematics. Your system of plotting equations on a graph, though it troubled me greatly in high school, has undoubtedly revolutionized geometry and mathematics as we know it today. Equally, I appreciate the effort you displayed in separating man from god, and your debate on free will is second to none.

However, in your pursuit of truth and certainty, you devised a particular phrase that, despite its simplicity, has had quite a devastating impact on the sanity of myself and many others. I speak, naturally, of this simple sentence:

I think, therefore I am.

You see, whether you intended it or not, this has led to the rise of the philosophy of existentialism, and the potential denial of the reality of anything that is not directly tied to the self. If my existence is proven by my ability to think about it, what of the existence of everything and everyone around me? According to you, their existence is also proven by my ability to think about them; however, the necessary implication of this is that anything I think of is therefore also real.

This leads to what I consider to be the existential dilemma: if an object’s reality is determined solely by the fact that I am thinking of it, how can I then be certain of the reality of anything at all? There is a modern legend that describes this quandary very succinctly. A popular story in our times describes a world in which humans are plugged into machines from birth. These machines provide all the sensory input necessary, directly to the brain, to convince a person (in this case a very wooden Keanu Reeves) that they are, in fact, experiencing reality.

The essence of the problem you have created for us is that we cannot be certain of the existence of anything other than ourselves – by which I mean the collection of our thoughts and minds. According to your philosophy, I cannot even be certain of my flesh and blood, or even if I am actually writing this letter or just imagining the whole thing.

You have failed to follow through with your philosophy, and for this I hold you accountable. In questioning the nature of existence itself, you have failed to provide us with an answer to that question, and show absolute proof that everyone else does, in fact, exist. I hope you understand that such matters are generally beyond the reasoning of most folk (including myself), and so I bow to your superior intellect in providing for us the answer to the dilemma you have left us with for so long.

In conclusion, I request that you submit an acknowledgement of your failure to provide a suitable answer to this problem, and an apology for the loss of sanity you have caused me and many others (if they exist). I have spent a large amount of time and money (if money is real) on therapy and medication (I’m not sure my therapist was real), directly as a result of my inability to resolve your issues. If I do not receive a response from you within fourteen days, I will be forced to seek legal representation (lawyers most certainly exist) and pursue damages as compensation.

I will await your reply (if you exist), and hope we can arrive at a mutual understanding.

Most sincerely,

Satis (if I exist)

Thought of the Week: I’m Ack-Basswards, Apparently

In all my many moonless nights spent writing and posting and staring at the empty hit counter, I’ve always secretly desired to be as famous as every other blogger in the world, since they all get more hits than I do. My biggest spike in followers came the day WordPress thought my Facebook friends counted, completely misunderstanding their literary interests (though I doubt they were asked).

Little did I know that all it took was a little versatility. I had to look the word up just to be sure, when Jennifer Bresnick included me in her list of fifteen blogs she checks every once in a while (after a stiff double Jack to recover). Apparently, it seems I am thought to be versatile (though her own thoughts on the accolade seem somewhat dubious):

Versatile: 1 – Able to adapt or be adapted to many different functions or activities. 2 – Changeable; inconstant

The root of the word comes from the Latin vertere, to turn. Now let’s think about this for a moment, because my suitability for this commendation may largely depend on our interpretation. Regarding change – I don’t like it. At least, not when it involves other people’s changes. Personally, I change an awful lot, usually from grumpy to dour to cynical and back to grumpy again. Highly inconstant, and it rather bothers people.

I also turn. I turn left a lot; sometimes I also turn right. I turn in at night, and turn up for meetings. I turn taps, dials and knobs, and the volume control in my car. I won’t turn leaves, though, in case one of them is new. That’s why I only read second-hand books or digital books, which don’t have pages (iBooks does, but don’t tell anyone).

Adaptable, though…I’d never really considered it before. I don’t generally tend to think about adapting, mostly because the world adapts around me. It’s a funny thing, really; everywhere I go I fit in perfectly, even if no one likes me and they don’t have long hair. It’s an awkward word, really, and confuses me:

Adapt: 1 – make suitable for a new use or purpose; modify. 2 – become adjusted to new conditions. 3 – alter a text to make it suitable for filming, broadcast or the stage

I could probably be repurposed as a hammer, or maybe a player piano. If I could, I’d see if I could be Anthony Hopkins, but I don’t think he’s done being Anthony Hopkins yet. I don’t adjust to new conditions – see above. And I really don’t think I’d make a very good movie.

It’s starting to look like I’m possibly not all that versatile at all. I’ve written about a few different things, from my neighbor’s garbage to the fallacy of American Idol, but I think I kind of write them all in the same way, which is to say not all that well. I could certainly try to be more diverse; after all, with something like 100,000 nouns about which to write, I certainly can’t run out of topics. I might run out of patience, however (I could write about that last).

Could I try to write in a different style? According to I Write Like, I’m a Tolkien/Tolstoy mutt. Maybe I could throw some Dan Brown and Kafka into the mix as well, but I think it’d become a little depressing.

So having thought about it, thank you, but I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this Versatile Blogger Award. Perhaps I can give to other people instead. They can keep it, if they like. If not, they could pass it on as well. Actually, if you apply some vampire logic to this, if every person infected with the Versatile Blogger Award passed it on to fifteen other bloggers, all of WordPress would succumb within five days. I suppose that would be the ultimate versatility – one, giant blogger that writes on every subject imaginable. But then, how come it took so long to get to me?

Versatile Blogger Award: 1 – A green square that heralds great fame. 2 – The blogging equivalent of an ‘I’m Too Sexy’ t-shirt. 3 – A piece of harmless fluff that most people spurn, but kind of makes them feel all warm inside at the same time

alexandracorinth

Ashley Jillian

Caeruleus Aether

Catharsis of Creativity

ck’s days

Fabulous Realms

Looking for Pemberley

Looser or Not

My Body the City: The Secret Life of a Manhattan Call Girl

Nick Rolynd

Not Quite Dead Yet

Storytelling Nomad

The Writing Desk

(If anyone noticed, these are the same links at the bottom of every page on my website, ’cause these people are cool.)

Super-thanks!

And, if you really, really want to know seven things about me…

  1. I wear my wedding ring on my right hand, but not because I’m Russian.
  2. I got very angry at Teavana when they didn’t have Lapsang Souchang.
  3. I’ve lived in three different countries (but not at the same time).
  4. When I was eighteen I cracked my skull on a doorframe, and my dad stitched it up with a sewing needle because he didn’t want to drive to the emergency room. He used Listerine for antiseptic.
  5. Our son is named after a character from Star Trek.
  6. I continue to hit my head on things, but won’t let my dad near me with a sewing kit.
  7. I consider myself something of a Vodka connoisseur, which isn’t really something to be all that proud of.