Svanr's Many Minds

Faking Interest

2005-03-29T13:49:00.000-06:00

I found an advertisement this morning for a novel titled “Faking 19” by Alyson Noël.

“Two Girls, Two Fake I.D.’s, One Little White Lie.

Alex and M. are so over senior year. Orange County is a bore, and they’re sick of everyone at their school. So, armed with fake I.D.’s, the 17-year-old girls check out L.A.’s nightlife. At first, Alex is having the time of her life – who wouldn’t want to party at Hollywood mansions and ultra-cool clubs?

But, as the fun begins to wear off, Alex starts to realize that it may take more than a fake I.D. to really grow up…”

I have never had the opportunity to hang around with many teen girls, but if most of them are anything like what that blurb describes, I don’t have any regrets. More seriously, I wonder about the potential audience for this book and the intended effect that the moral is supposed to have. It seems like a bait and switch.

There is an obvious attempt at glamorizing the main characters and the fake I.D. plot. The picture on the ad is of two darkly tanned teen girls, both talking on cell phones next to and in a fancy new car and I would venture a guess that it would take more than a fake I.D. to get into a Hollywood mansion (assuming, of course, that we aren’t talking about the Playboy mansion, which not only requires an I.D. but also a willingness to get implants and make out with Hugh Hefner). There is a hint that there will be a moral at the end but you will notice that the fake I.D. and wild partying is not portrayed as anything but a great idea, it just doesn’t help you grow up any faster. It is most likely a clever ploy at attracting the teen girl that reads the line that says “Now available wherever books are sold” and thinks to herself “Whatever, like, how am I supposed to know where to get a book?” long enough to deliver the message at the end.

I wonder how well this would really work. Thinking back to when I was a young chap, it would be like watching an episode of the G.I. Joe cartoon full of red and blue lasers flying between the ranks of Joe and Cobra troops only to be treated at the end to Wetsuit telling the audience that hurting other people is wrong and concluding with a resounding “Go Joe!” Maybe it would work better if they showed violence being wrong from the beginning of the show rather than just a pathetic attempt at the last 2 minutes.

This isn’t to say that having a main character that changes through the course of the book is bad but I think that if you are trying to change someone else’s mind, it may not be the best approach. Using the violence angle again, if I read a book that had a gung ho military commander that eventually comes to see that war is a bad thing, I might very well enjoy it. Not surprising given that I already agree with the final message. On the other hand, if I read a book about an avowed pacifist that eventually sees the good in death and becomes a sniper I would be less inclined to sing its praises. It certainly wouldn’t change my mind. A better tactic, in my view, would be to show the actions of the people that “need to be killed” in a very despicable way. Graphic depictions of the exploits of serial rapists and puppy killers would do more to convince me that some people should be shot than some fictional character’s epiphany ever would. The author needs to create a catalyst to change me, not someone in the land of make-believe.

On the other hand, how would the marketers ever get me to read this book? I can’t imagine it would be an easy task. This leads me to question why the author wants to change my mind to begin with. There must be an agenda. A thought that if more people thought about the subject matter in the same way then the world would be a better place. Implicitly, the author does not think like me. Would such a person have much of an ability to deliver an effective life-changing event to someone they don’t really understand? Even worse, every person that reads to book is going to be different. Targeting an argument to one person is one thing, but trying to create one that affects the minds of a great many people is something completely different.

That’s it. I am so over trying to change people’s minds.

Born and Bread

2005-03-29T12:11:00.000-06:00

The funny thing about fresh baked bread is that half of the loaf is consumed within the first half hour after it is removed from the oven and the second half takes a week or two to disappear.

A Quick Thought

2005-03-22T18:19:00.000-06:00

When I was a wee lad I recall having a conversation with a friend of mine about the relative viability of various superpowers, as comic book obsessed boys often do. I recall suggesting that super speed was the best power while my companion felt being able to read the minds of others would be the power he would most like to have, the rational being that he wanted to know what people thought about him.

I suppose everyone would like to know what people think of them at some point. I have to admit that I occasionally wonder what people see on first appearances. How do I fit into social stereotypes? Is the way that I feel I portray myself different from how others see me? This curiosity is rather impersonal, however. The desire is for a filtered mirror that removes the fixed perspective we as individuals find ourselves trapped in. I don’t think this is what my childhood chum had in mind, however. I think he wanted to see what disparity, if any, there was in behavior and inner thought.

It is interesting to think about the implications of this. If someone dislikes you and you know about it then there is no reason to probe the recesses of the brain in order to find out. It is obvious. I suppose there might be people that would dislike you on the surface but, in actuality, think you are a swell person, but how often would this happen, really? No, I think the main use for this would be to determine whether or nor people that are friendly to you really wish you would leave them alone. It is, in essence, a demonstration of insecurity.

I don’t think this insecurity is entirely unfounded. I am sure we have all heard the stereotype of the catty cliques that teenage girls are rumored to have, full of two faced backstabbing and I don’t doubt there is always some asshole out there ready to take advantage of an unsuspecting “friend.” I would suggest, however, that this might be a situation where ignorance is truly bliss.

Consider the possibilities:

1. You discover the person doesn’t like you and you drop them as a friend.
2. You don’t discover the person doesn’t like you and go about things never suspecting anything is wrong.

You will notice that there is no downside to the second possibility. Sure, we can say that it would be a sham when we are divorced from the situation and we know that the other person is thinking but for the person that is living it, the person that hates them might as well be there best pal and the psychological benefits are the same. While it could be argued that you are simply giving the bastards an opportunity to screw you over later on down the line, it really is a question of time. Do you take the guaranteed hit now or do you take the possibility of a hit later on?

Perhaps you disagree, but I think I would choose to remain happy and clueless. Yep, give me super speed, any day.

Clueless Thoughts at the Bar

2005-03-14T18:57:00.000-06:00

“Well, the band is on a break. Time to take out the ol’ hearing protection. Huh, who is this? She looks like a younger, chubbier, drunk Meryl Streep. Hey, if she wants to talk I guess I can play along.”

“Why is it that whenever someone mentions the fact that I wear earplugs they always say that it is a smart thing to do yet never wear them? If she wonders why she isn’t deaf after all the concerts she has been to, she obviously can see the benefits.”

“Why the hell is she talking about her dentil habits? Does she really think I care about how many times a day she flosses? Quick, I need to think of something to say so she thinks I am paying attention! Phew, an inquiry about tongue scrapers saves the day, as it has so many times in the past.”

“Oh no, how was I supposed to know she was a nurse? I really didn’t need specific details about how she scrapes the tongue belonging to one of her patients. You start waaaay in the back, you say? Gotta change the subject before she starts talking about bedpans or sponge baths!”

“I knew that trivial pursuit question about the number of flavors the tongue can taste would come in handy someday. Ugh, I wonder if anyone else is watching her pull her tongue out and stick her fingers down her throat as she describes her taste buds to me. At least she is not puffing on that cigarette while she is doing that. What is it with nurses and doctors that smoke? They, of all people, should know it is terrible for you. Not to mention she keeps blowing into my face.”

“How in the world did she manage to get on the subject of eating raw oysters? That teaches me to space off. This is the first person I have ever met that actually believes in natural aphrodisiacs. Why exactly would anyone want to ingest aphrodisiacs all the time, as she claims to do, assuming they actually work? You would think that could get distracting. More to the point, why is she telling me any of this?”

“Good thing all that booze she has been drinking goes right to the bladder. I had better get out of here before she gets back from the bathroom!”

The self-righteousness of bachelorhood

2005-03-11T17:16:00.000-06:00

Today my boss entrusted me to a task of vital importance. It seems his young son is taking part in some sort of model car racing event. From what I was able to glean, the lad and his dear ol’ pa must carve a small vehicle out of a piece of wood and race it down a ramp.

I was presented with just such a vehicle, this particular model resembling a boxy Yugo more than a speedy sports car. It was my job to construct a series of decals that would be placed on the car to indicate our company’s “sponsorship.” I was a bit incredulous at this request initially and I asked him if he would rather have me first finish the important document I was working on. Little did I realize that not working on the decals immediately would result in the crushed heart of a 10 year old little boy that missed his father so much because he was at the office 90 hours a week.

In my mind I said “Doesn’t that defeat the whole point? Even if you lie to your son and tell him that you are solely responsible for the nifty logos adorning the car, you still haven’t spent time with your him let alone made any real effort to help.”

Outwardly I said “How high, sir?”

A melting pot and a melting mouth.

2005-03-08T12:51:00.000-06:00

Every once in a while I get an inexplicable craving for the “Vegetable Delight” (with or without “Been Curd”) at the Chinese takeout across the street from my office. It isn’t exactly the most appealing stuff when examined in the abstract. Mostly broccoli with small amounts of watercress, mushrooms, bamboo, peanuts, cabbage, and tofu (if you pay extra for the “Bean Curd”) mixed in. To top it off, it is bathed in a strange, salty brown liquid that quickly separates into dual layered oil and sludge. The veggies sit half way in and half way out of the mystery broth and the side exposed to air becomes cold while the bottom side is hot enough to warrant skin grafts for any mouth that is unlucky enough to touch them.

The owners are a husband and wife whose native tongue is very obviously not English. The man always recognizes me and knows what I am going to order. It is kind of a problem because I can’t understand a thing he says. He always makes a comment to me when I arrive and all I can do is smile and try to pretend I am responding without actually having to say anything.

They supply a variety of magazines for their customers to read when waiting for their food to cook. The wife appears to be a fan of “Seventeen,” despite being in her 30s by my guess, while the husband (I think his name is Bi Xi… something… if I remember the subscription label correctly) reads “Mercedes” magazine and a publication written in Chinese about the Americanized Chinese takeout restaurant biz.

If this rag is anything to judge by, the Asian countries must be thriving markets for the sale of breast enlargement pills.

Take me out to the ball game

2005-03-04T15:17:00.000-06:00

I was reading something the other day that included the phrase “she was out of my league” in reference to dating.

The phrase, apparently, continues the grand tradition of comparing sex with baseball. After all, before you can reach one of the bases (or hit a home run!), you need to be part of the same sports organization. The metaphor raises an interesting issue, though. In baseball it is easy to know what league you are in. There are corporate contracts and detailed stats that provide a paper trail all the way from the pathetic seat warmer to the MVP all-star with the megabucks athletic shoe contract. Furthermore, leagues are distinctly separated. There is no confusing ones eligibility to enter tee ball verses the pros.

I think it is safe to say that the dating organizations are laid out based on visual first contact. Person A sees Person B and thinks, “I have no chance, that person is way out of my league.” These leagues are built completely within the mind. No input is taken from the object of desire. In other words, an internal comparison is made between the perceived values of both the ego and the other person. The question still remains. How are these values determined? There seems to be an implicit suggestion of a universalized rubric. If it is possible to know how others will judge your value then it is, logically, possible to tell what the values of these other people are. These conditions can only be met if a standard measure of value is, at the very least assumed to be, present.

I find this discussion interesting because I honestly have very little conception of what my dating “value” is. I wouldn’t be able to tell you if a woman would be likely to accept my advances even if my love life depended on it. By extension, I am unable to give much of an opinion on how attractive I look. I just don’t know. I am not even convinced that it is possible to know.

I suppose there might be a certain amount of security in knowing your value. While you might never approach people who are “out of your league,” and thus miss out on some opportunities, you also don’t waste your time with people who probably won’t give you the time of day. This all hinges on the reliability of your value assessment, of course.

I wonder if there may be some more subtle negative effects of this behavior. The idea of a standard value scale seems pretty ludicrous to me. Removing this concept would require league judgments to be made purely on the assumptions of what the ego feels other people make judgments about. In other words, part of the ego is being projected upon the other person. Ultimately the result is self-inflicted.

Gives new meaning to the term “social suicide.”

Echo... echo.. echo...

2005-03-01T18:58:00.000-06:00

I have recently finished modifying the code for my blog in order to accommodate a variety of counters and tracking devices. I have found myself refreshing the page every once in a while and looking at that little number of the side bar telling the world how many people have been fortunate to open my page.

Why do we do this? Is it some narcissistic impulse we have to see ourselves from outside our own bodies? To reread and marvel at the words that come out of our heads through our hands and into the keyboard? Are we hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone that we have never met before might find us interesting and worthy of attention? Is it just a matter of having things to say but no one we feel comfortable saying them to?

I am not sure I will ever be able to answer this question that I ask myself, but I do know that I can’t stop looking at that counter.

Born to be Mild

2005-02-28T12:11:00.000-06:00

There is a tattoo parlor a couple bocks from my office. It is a pretty typical example of such an establishment. It’s just a small building with “badass” decoration. It is called “Wild Side Tattoo” but the font that was used on the sign makes it somewhat difficult to determine whether the first letter is a “W” or an “M.”

Tattoos have traditionally been associated with rebellion and counterculture. Maybe a “mild” parlor is exactly what needle artists need to increase their market share. Instead of a bald, muscled biker dude wearing leather pants we could have a middle-aged woman wearing a nurses uniform. Instead of the typical example images of half naked women, dragons, and heavy metal logos adorning the walls we could have… well, this is where the idea begins to break down.

What would the mild mannered choose to permanently affix to their skin? Most reasons for getting tattoos are fleeting. You might want to look “cool” and fit in better with a particular group, you might want to make a statement, you might be drunk, you might want to make a commitment to your significant other, etc. Most, if not all, of these reasons lose their value as time passes (some more quickly than others) and all of them are considered to be relatively extreme. An argument could be made that cosmetic tattoos that some women purchase to give them a never ending made up look are a form of mild tattoo, but I question the popularity of this application both in the present day and in the future.

Perhaps the reason that tattoos have continued to be associated with the rebellious is because the statements that are typically made via skin ink do not need to be made when you are part of the majority socio-economic group. Our status as a “normal” person is assumed unless our appearance or behavior is sufficiently different from what is considered to be normal. While some countercultures adopt certain manners of dress or hairstyle to exhibit their “individuality,” these can’t really compete with the strength of statement that tattoos are capable purely because of their permanence. Words quickly disappear after leaving the mouth. Text and other forms of recording can be destroyed and forgotten and are always separated from the person that created the message. Tattoos, on the other hand, are always with the wearer and are not easily reversed or hidden. You know what they say, seeing is believing.

Cooking with Svanr

2005-02-27T19:05:00.000-06:00

Cookbooks, as they are generally conceived, aren't really worth a purchase in my opinion. They are very often full of huge, full-color pictures and useless white space, a technique undoubtedly used to make the book impressively large and fancy enough to charge terribly high prices, and the recipes are usually just a laundry list of ingredients and required actions. Instead of attempting a pedagological framework to teach the concepts and science of cooking they simply provide step-by-step instructions that need only be regurgitated. While you can certainly learn from such books, this approach isn't very conducive to such results.

The cynic in me wonders if it isn't just a plot to sell more cookbooks. If you don't teach people how to cook and create on their own then the only way they can get new recipes is by buying more cookbooks. On the other hand, I see real value in the traditional laundry list concept. They can serve as a valuable cultural and historical document, preserving the ways we approach one of the focal points of our daily lives and help establish traditions in the present.

Of course, none of this negates the need for texts that address the conceptual side of cooking.

You can't judge a book by its cover?

2005-02-27T18:42:00.000-06:00

It is interesting how much book covers can actually change your perceptions of the text contained within them. As much as we might like to think that the content is ultimately what we are interested in, it is the cover that generally tips the scale one way or the other when we are making a purchase. This isn’t too surprising given that the cover, along with the general typography and layout of the actual text, is really the only thing that we can base a purchase decision on. Unless, of course, you are one of those people that use a bookstore like a lending library. Book marketers pounce upon this fundamental fact. Demographics are created and the aesthetics of the cover reflect the market that the book is targeted at. In some ways, this can be a benefit. The resultant conformity in appearance within each genre allows a browser to more quickly remove those titles that will likely not interest them and lets fans of a particular type of book find more that they will probably like. It very likely also drives away readers that, while not fans of a particular genre, may be receptive to certain examples if not for the cover.

I have had a problem with fantasy and sci-fi novels for quite a while. I can’t bring myself to read them any more. Just the sight of a stereotypical sci-fi/fantasy novel cover makes me instantly lose interest in ever opening it. In my younger days I was a voracious reader of these genres, but, unfortunately, I can’t say my taste in literature was terribly well honed. My appetite was satiated by Xanth, Shannara, and other such questionable fare. Part of my revulsion is undoubtedly rooted in the lower quality that these books exhibit but I suspect that they also serve as a reminder of the days that they were read in, not exactly the happiest moments of my life. In fact, my reactions to these book covers probably says more about myself than it does the book.

Perhaps the books we choose to read are, at least to a certain extent, indicative of who we think we are and who we want to be. I am not suggesting that the books we purchase are all glorified coffee table tomes, primarily intended to give a good impression to anyone that might see our bookshelf or even to reduce our embarrassment when standing at the checkout line (porn excepted), but rather that we tend to seek personal affirmation and identity through our selections.

I think that most people like to believe that they are unaffected by advertising. On a certain level, this may be the case, but every aspect of the products that we encounter in stores is molded by marketing efforts. I may not see or care about the advertising on TV, but even the appearance of the item is calculated to make us draw conclusions about its value and content. We purchase what we think is meant for our particular situation and what we think will make our situation better, both of these attributes being carefully assembled by a team of marketers and telegraphed through the packaging. We simply interpret what the “cover” is designed to convey.

We aren’t judging books by their covers. The covers are judging us.

And that's one to grow on!

2005-02-26T09:19:00.000-06:00

Rule #1: When hiking, turn back when a steep, ice-covered hill is encountered.
Rule #2: If you are climbing up a steep, ice-covered hill and you begin to slip, stop and slowly turn back.
Rule #3: If you find yourself sliding backwards down a steep, ice-covered hill, attempt to find traction and slowly turn back.
Rule #4: If, after finding yourself sliding backwards down a steep, ice-covered hill, you have begun to fall, do not attempt to balance yourself by extending your arms.
Rule #5: If you have fallen after attempting to traverse a steep, ice-covered hill, consult your local physician regarding your wrist injury.

Like a lamb to slaughter...

2005-02-25T05:21:00.000-06:00

It’s oddly calming to know you are headed for complete disaster. You can see it coming, of course, but there is nothing that you can do, outside of casting your immortal image to scorn for generations to come. All that remains is to let history take its course and calmly live the few scant moments that remain before being mangled in the gears of time.

Sure, you may very well survive, but it is the actions that lead up to the ultimate event that will stratify us. Will you panic, praying to god that some miracle will save you? Perhaps you will devote yourself to finding a solution with steely edged resolve and unwavering confidence. In the end, these are wasted efforts. It could, of course, be argued that such behavior is only the mind’s attempt at finding a zen like peace, a way of dealing with those nagging doubts and lingering insecurities that plague the brain during times of crisis. The destination in such a journey is the complete removal of all desire and ego and the substitution of contented acceptance of whatever life may bring.

I would like to think I have achieved such a state, and, the fates be willing and my mind not be clouded by false hubris, I will not pass out before successfully asking a particular someone on a date tonight. Ohmmmm…. Ohmmmm…

Philosophy in Real Life

2005-02-24T20:34:00.000-06:00

Morals aren’t really worth much if they haven’t been put to the test. A decision never to paint space aliens with yellow paint will probably never be applicable to ones life. The statement might well have never been made in such cases. When you think about it, there are probably quite a few values that we as individuals have pledged to live by that are empty, meaningless proclamations. Conversely, there are others that we may never have thought about, assuming that they would be so unlikely as to be a waste of precious cognitive energy.

Would you, in order to improve your status, exploit the guilt of a coworker that suspects (and rightly so) that you may have caught him at the office in the state of sexual self-manipulation with aid from pornographic videos featuring men with grossly gigantic prosthetic third limbs?

I can tell you from personal experience that this may be a moral dilemma you should prepare for.

It'll get you nowhere

2005-02-24T19:29:00.000-06:00

There is a common sitcom cliché that rears its ugly head whenever the writers pen a scene featuring two high school lovebirds going on their first date. You know the one. The boy shows up at the girl’s house (with flowers in hand) and, inevitably, the mother is the one that opens the door.

“Hello, is your sister home?”

I have always been skeptical to the idea that such blatant flattery would work as well as is generally depicted. Of course, while I have never had the opportunity to try this trick out, I am sure I would feel incredibly silly for even contemplating such action. I would never do it. It couldn’t possibly work. The question is rendered moot.

My car was in the shop today having a mouse nest removed from the air filter and I found it necessary to bum a ride from my parents after work. My dad, a lawyer, works a couple blocks from my office so it worked out pretty well. Unfortunately a client, a rather outspoken woman with a drug dealing husband serving 30 years in jail, was hanging around the law office chatting with my mom, an unfortunately captive audience. In between anecdotes involving wanton acts of violence and depravity, my mom introduced me. Then the flattery began. Not only did the client describe me as handsome, she couldn’t believe I didn’t have a girlfriend, and, amusingly, she asked me what grade I am in. I am almost 26.

The thing is, aside from implying I was age 14, it worked. It made my day. Sure, she was probably hoping my parents would give her a break and cut enough money off the bill to let her keep up her habit without prostituting herself, but I was flattered. I think I am going to start memorizing that sister line.