Like so many other corporate slaves, I was pulled out of my cube into the break room yesterday to see a giant cupcake with silver frosting floating through the air on TV. When I heard what had happened, three thoughts entered my mind: 1) I'd be terrified if I were the parents. How could they let this happen? 2) What a great example for a creative thinking activity this would be! 3) I hope someone solves the problem and the balloon lands with the boy safe and sound so that tomorrow morning he can describe his adventures on the Today show. Imagine a 6-year old with such a childhood memory?
Like the balloon itself, my romantic ideas were burst this morning when I saw the headlines claiming that the whole affair might be a hoax enacted by a publicity-seeking family who regularly put their children at risk. Instead of joyfully describing his adventures with wild things of the air, the balloon boy vomited during an interview with Meredith Vieira.
Even though the children's story I had hoped for didn't pan out, there are still some very interesting questions raised by the boy's adventure. The one that interests me the most relates to the debate over whether we can overprotect our children. It was actually televised in a Wife Swap episode featuring the balloon boy's family of thrill-seeking scientists and a family focused on child safety.
I can see the merits of both sides of the debate, but I don't think it's always easy to find the balance between overprotection and risk taking. As cautious as I am, it's hard for me to let Luc fly without me even though I can see the joy he'd find in the air. And I'm determined not to let my own fears cage my child.
Helicopter parents would never let their children near a flying machine without supervision. it wouldn't be responsible. I can't argue with wanting to keep my children safe. But I also wonder what gets lost if our children never get the chance to take risks and fearlessly soar through the air?
Let the wild rumpus start!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
What is it be human?
It's probably pretty obvious that the question of what it is to be human is one of my favorite themes. I enjoy science fiction and horror so much because the definition of humanity is so often challenged. Blade Runner will always be a favorite movie of mine for that reason.
Although Zomblieland is a straight-up comedy, I did end up reflecting a bit on what it is to be human after watching it. In the movie, Tallahasse achieves a sense of "flow" while slaughtering zombies. It's his talent and he enjoys every zombie head he's busted and every zombie belly he's punctured. What always strikes me as a little disturbing is how much I enjoy seeing those zombies blown away. There's some kind of catharsis in seeing something inhuman destroyed in a wildly spectacular way.
Seeing humans devoured by zombies in an equally spectacular way at the beginning of the movie was, in contrast, extremely disturbing. Both zombies and humans are played by human actors. Both run madly around. It's true the zombies regurgitate black goo, shuffle and have green skin, but they look human. What marks them for me as inhuman? Is is the fact that they eat humans? I don't think that means I'd enjoy the killing of cannibals. Is it because they look half dead? I don't think it follows that I'd take pleasure in seeing the death of the mortally wounded in a hospital.
Although Zomblieland is a straight-up comedy, I did end up reflecting a bit on what it is to be human after watching it. In the movie, Tallahasse achieves a sense of "flow" while slaughtering zombies. It's his talent and he enjoys every zombie head he's busted and every zombie belly he's punctured. What always strikes me as a little disturbing is how much I enjoy seeing those zombies blown away. There's some kind of catharsis in seeing something inhuman destroyed in a wildly spectacular way.
Seeing humans devoured by zombies in an equally spectacular way at the beginning of the movie was, in contrast, extremely disturbing. Both zombies and humans are played by human actors. Both run madly around. It's true the zombies regurgitate black goo, shuffle and have green skin, but they look human. What marks them for me as inhuman? Is is the fact that they eat humans? I don't think that means I'd enjoy the killing of cannibals. Is it because they look half dead? I don't think it follows that I'd take pleasure in seeing the death of the mortally wounded in a hospital.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
EisenbergLand
In the past week, I've seen two movies that use an amusement park to trigger a young man's coming of age and both, Adventureland and Zombieland, feature Jesse Eisenberg. Like Michael Cera and John Heder, he's the smart, sweet but socially awkward character that you expect to see at the center of a huge romantic mess and love to see come out on top and get the girl against all odds.
Carnivals with their dangerous and transgressive allure are often the settings for such stories. They are places where the young can tap into emerging desire and play dangerously. (In fact, I just saw a trailer for The Vampire's Assistant which seems to chart the same kind of path) What's interesting about the two Eisenberg movies is that the young man's story is framed within 2 completely different genres.
Adventureland is a small, indie film in which Eisenberg finds himself forced to work in a seedy carnival before grad school. A luckless romantic he blindly struggles to forge a relationship with one of his edgy, pretty co-carnies. All set to very cool, appropriate 80s music. Like the seedy carnival and the awful carny job, it's a rather sad and small movie. You root for Eisenberg's character and you're happy when he gets the girl. But there's no real joy.
Eisenberg's character is just as neurotic in Zombieland, but the conversion of most of the human race into raging zombies gives him the opportunity to overcome his anxieties and save the girl in an orgy of cathartic violence. Needless to say, there's a heckuva lot more carnage in Zombieland but there's also a lot more laughter.
Carnivals with their dangerous and transgressive allure are often the settings for such stories. They are places where the young can tap into emerging desire and play dangerously. (In fact, I just saw a trailer for The Vampire's Assistant which seems to chart the same kind of path) What's interesting about the two Eisenberg movies is that the young man's story is framed within 2 completely different genres.
Adventureland is a small, indie film in which Eisenberg finds himself forced to work in a seedy carnival before grad school. A luckless romantic he blindly struggles to forge a relationship with one of his edgy, pretty co-carnies. All set to very cool, appropriate 80s music. Like the seedy carnival and the awful carny job, it's a rather sad and small movie. You root for Eisenberg's character and you're happy when he gets the girl. But there's no real joy.
Eisenberg's character is just as neurotic in Zombieland, but the conversion of most of the human race into raging zombies gives him the opportunity to overcome his anxieties and save the girl in an orgy of cathartic violence. Needless to say, there's a heckuva lot more carnage in Zombieland but there's also a lot more laughter.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Play on my mind
Since I've begun reading Play, I've been interpreting events through a playful lens. At work, I see conflict between colleagues arising from different notions of playfulness. I see management succeeding or failing in terms of how effectively they encourage playfulness among team members. At home, I see how all work and no play can make Jack a miserable spouse (and a homicidal maniac perhaps). On television, I watch Mad Men and think that perhaps all Don Draper needs is to learn to laugh at himself and the world around him. It's no surprise that the Age of Anxiety is followed by a time of rebellion that manifests itself in the eruption of play. When being adult means living the Drapers' lives , dancing around a maypole looks very appealing even if that feeling of innocence requires pharmaceutical assistance.
I've also been thinking about Luc's immersion in video games. Clearly, his play profile is that of a storyteller. He completely loses all sense of time when he's creating special wings that allow him to fly in an online world. It definitely reminds me of the hours and hours I spent reading The Lord of the Rings. But I worry that being shown the world will restrict his imagination. Then again, I thought the criticism of Legos movie-themed sets for the same reason was ridiculous.
I've also been thinking about Luc's immersion in video games. Clearly, his play profile is that of a storyteller. He completely loses all sense of time when he's creating special wings that allow him to fly in an online world. It definitely reminds me of the hours and hours I spent reading The Lord of the Rings. But I worry that being shown the world will restrict his imagination. Then again, I thought the criticism of Legos movie-themed sets for the same reason was ridiculous.
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