Life Between the Lines

Are all stories the same? John Yorke seems to think so, and Philip Brewer also seems to think so, and a computer also happens to think so. Personally, I don't disagree: based on the arguments and evidence that the three different authors (or entities, maybe?) present, it seems valid to argue that stories are the same at their core. The three act structure Yorke discusses seems to surround us in storytelling, and even when we incorporate some details, we're still stuck in a couple different stories that a machine has identified for us.  But, in my view, this style of argument and distillation of ideas doesn't have a set stopping point — heck, we could argue that all stories can be boiled down to one plot point: something happens and a different thing does not happen. Does this mean that all stories are the same? Even though they share a common framework and structure, the "same" stories are still unique, and it's these differences  that makes them stories that ...

We're all insignificant in this universe — according to my beliefs. We exist on a relatively small rock drifting through time and space, and conditions happened to exist in perfect synchronization for life to exist and evolve, giving rise to our (un)fortunate existence. I honestly don't think there really is any concrete and inherent meaning in life. It's been called a pessimistic viewpoint, but I feel as though it's the opposite. Like the existentialists, I also believe that we should attempt to overcome and persist through  this absurdity in the universe. Even if life has no inherent meaning, meaningful life is not nonexistent. Rather, we find our own pathways and discover what brings meaning to us. For some, religion might be a way to find meaning in a sea of absurdity for some, while creating good may be the way to find meaning for others. Regardless, meaning does not not  exist: it merely does not exist on a level above the human being. Meaning is not universal, an...

When I was growing up (and this still happens today), I was always told to "put myself in somebody else's shoes." While I've progressed past the elementary school vocabulary and logic that questions how  and more importantly why  somebody would let me and my socks slip into their Reebok tennis shoes, it's certainly still challenging at times to view the world through someone else's eyes and to walk a day in their life. But movies and paintings and pictures and novels and other pieces of art let us do just that, albeit based on the author's decisions rather than our own (maybe Choose Your Own Adventure books kind of count). We're knocked right into the words (or strokes?) of the artist, transformed into the characters or narrators they wish us to be. While it might be hard to imagine what these strange characters might experience, vivid imagery and talented writing help to approximate these experiences, sometimes allowing us to sympathize with character...

When we were watching Little Miss Sunshine  in class today, I was launched back ten years into my elementary school classrooms. I know it's a pretty loose connection, but does anyone else remember the "quiet game?" For me, today was one of those moments where the smallest detail reminds me of the smallest memory: a nice little memory cue.  I don't really remember if I was a fan or hater of the quiet game, but I always found it really interesting how it brought out different sides of each of my classmates. For many of us, we stayed silent, even when there was no reward attached — and especially when teams were assigned. We were competitive in our little desks and fueled by a desire not to win praise from the teacher but rather to seek internal validation that we won, that we prevailed over those who did not  have as much restraint. At the same time, there was always someone who purposefully butted in and purposefully uttered a single word. When we were split into teams...