It’s A Religiously Misguided Life : On the worth of life

Re-watching the old film It’s A Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve, the classic ending really bothers me.  An angel, sent by God, helps a man change his mind about committing suicide by showing him what life would be like for his loved ones if he had never been born.  The key to the plot is that life turns out to be bad for them, and some people are even dead.  What if life had been better for them?  What if his wife had married some other man, had had different kids, and had been just as happy?  Would that have justified George Bailey’s suicide?  That is, how do we value the worth of a man’s life?  It’s A Wonderful Life does it by showing what effect that life has on other lives.  I suppose it works in the dramatic sense — it makes for a good and touching story with a good and touching closing scene.  But it doesn’t really espouse an honest message.  Instead it encourages a sort of “if-it-weren’t-for-me” sense of self-worth, which I think risks being more warped and prideful than honest.

When we ask “what is the worth of a man’s life?” it’s really an incomplete question, because worth is not an objective value.  What is a man’s life worth to whom?  To another man?  To himself?  To God?

The great thing about the worth of a man’s life to God is that it never changes.  There’s nothing you can do to make God think less of you.  He created you and knows you too completely.  The bad thing about the worth of a man’s life to God is that it’s hard to detect.  It’s not apparent.  God doesn’t tuck you into bed at night or give you flowers or shower you with love songs.  And while we might still feel God’s love in some ways, we can never feel it completely, and it’s easy to forget about it and/or doubt it exists at all.  And even if we do believe it, we can’t understand it.  It’s hard and unnatural for us to value others in some unchanging way like that.  It may be a comforting thought to know our worth to God is more than we can understand, but we can’t relate to it.  So someone like Hitler had worth to God?!  A man who murdered millions and millions of people?  Yes.  That is not to say that actions don’t matter, but they don’t matter to God’s sense of your worth.  Hitler, and any wicked man you can think of, is worth just as much to God as you are.  Can’t accept that?  Join the majority of humans.

This concept is completely ignored in the It’s A Wonderful Life ending.  Instead, George Bailey is encouraged to change his sense of self-worth by being frightened by the conveniently poor circumstances of his community had he not been born.  In the real world, that just might not work.  Without you being born, the world might very well be much the same, if not better.  If that’s where you’re getting your sense of self-worth, of course you will have problems.

The angel in the movie, Clarence, leaves George with this quote: “Dear George, remember: no man is a failure who has friends.”  It reminds me of another quote from The Muppet Christmas Carol that the reformed Scrooge sings in his final song: “If you want to know the measure of a man, you simply count his friends.”  I don’t like these quotes; they’re placing more emphasis on the value of friendship than the value of being a good person, as if having friends somehow makes you a good person.  If you’re a good person, it doesn’t matter how many friends you have.  Certainly it’s nice to have them and it’s good to be thankful for them, but they should not be sought out for the sake of themselves.  Friends are not a vital recipe to life.  A man should be honest and virtuous first.  If being honest and virtuous costs him friendship, so be it.  A moral man with no friends is better than a wicked man with many friends.  I suppose the problem is that it’s natural for a man to get a sense of self-worth by trying to see himself through the eyes of others, and the more friends he has, the better he feels about himself.  I think that is very misguided.  It would be better if Clarence had written: “Dear George, remember: no man is a failure who follows the way of the Lord” or “Dear George, remember: no man is a failure who trusts in God” — maybe those are a bit more cheesy, but they’re much more truthful, which Clarence, being an angel, should know.

What George Bailey really needed was not a change in his sense of self-worth.  He needed to be reminded of his priorities.  He got way too emotional about money, and the awful consequences of not having enough (like going to jail).  He needed to be reminded of how important his friends and family were to him.  His problems had nothing to do with him being born or not.  And that’s what made the alternate reality effective; the absence of his loved ones as he knew them, not the remembrance of the virtuous deeds of his past.  That’s just messy screenwriting.

Merry Christmas!

On Gollum sinking into lava

Wired had this interesting article which states:

Gollum, if you remember, dove into the lava of Mount Doom after his precious ring was thrown in — he proceeds to sink into the lava (see below) and leaves the ring floating on the lava until it melts away. Guess what? Sinking into lava just will not happen if you’re a human (or remotely human). You’d need to be a Terminator to sink into molten rock/metal …

On a discussion of the article on some other site, author John Scalzi wrote:

In a film with spiders of physically impossible size, talking trees, ugly warriors birthed out of mud and a disembodied malevolence causing a ring to corrupt the mind of anyone who wears it (and also turn them invisible), we’re going to complain that the lava is not viscous enough?

I can understand Scalzi’s point, but I disagree with his argument that one shouldn’t complain about the physics of Middle Earth lava just because one has accepted the existence of fantastical Middle Earth creatures.

I agree with Scalzi when he writes:

… you should consider the work in its totality and ask whether in the context of the work, this specific thing is inconsistent with the worldbuilding.

I’d also add (though it should be obvious) that this will be a subjective issue. Some people can more easily suspend their disbelief about certain things than others. If your area of expertise includes lava, lava falsehoods will stand out to you more than talking trees (and Ents are not trees, by the way).

Personally, the lava issue doesn’t bother me, but I’ve never seen a living creature fall into lava before. And it’s not something I ever really want to see. But if I did see such a thing, aside from being scarred and depressed for the rest of my sad sorry life, I can understand why Gollum’s death goop might stop working for me, even while I accept all the other magic of Middle Earth. There’s nothing in the story that signifies that the lava should behave in any other way than it does here on earth. Similarly, gravity behaves the same way, temperature behaves the same way, elf and hobbit and wizard emotions behave the same way. So it’s not like we assume that everything is so different that we have to just accept everything that comes our way.

Imagine if Gollum had bounced on the lava as if it were a trampoline. Who would accept that? Would me saying “hey, you accepted talking trees!” make you change your mind? I doubt it. You expect the lava to behave a certain way in the context of the story.

I would say that most audiences accept the physics of Gollum’s death because that is exactly how most of us imagine falling into lava should look, because most of us haven’t witnessed creatures falling into lava before. When we watch videos of rivers of lava pouring down the side of a volcano, it looks as viscous as it does in Gollum’s death scene. So our acceptance of the physics of Gollum’s death is based on our own lava-physics ignorance, not on our consideration of our own acceptance of the wizards and talking trees and giant spiders that preceded it. This lava-physics ignorance is also what makes the Wired article interesting at all in the first place (at least to me). It’s fun and educational!

Also, I think we could argue that as the lava liquefies Gollum’s innards, because the ring of power has turned him into the ugly gross unnatural goblin-like creature he is, his unnatural innards would liquefy in such a way that they mix in the lava in such a way that what we see in the movie makes perfect sense. That is, the Wired article may be right about the physics of the lava, but it hath no knowledge about the physics of melting Gollum guts, which might become extremely dense at high temperatures. (Sure, why not?)  Or perhaps his skin vaporizes easily at lava temperatures, and lava pours into muscles and bones.  He’s not really sinking; he’s being pulled down by the flow of the lava.  Why didn’t Tolkien specify these sorts of things?  He could’ve had an entire section of the appendix for this!

Goals for 2012

2012 should be an exciting year. I should finish with Animation Mentor in March, and should be able to dedicate the rest of the year to searching for a job. It’s pretty exciting to think that I have no idea where I might end up, though I suppose there’s always the possibility that I get nowhere. (He who expects nothing shall never be disappointed.) I don’t know what the job market is like or how tough the competition will be.

I should also be going to California sometime in 2012 to attend Animation Mentor’s graduation ceremony, whenever that is. That should definitely be an exciting trip since I haven’t taken a real trip since I went with my family to Disney World in 2001, when I was a freshman in high school. (I wouldn’t say that weddings and funerals in our neighboring state count as real “trips”.) I’ve also never been that far to the west before. (I used to live in Alaska, but I was only two or three years old at the time and remember none of it, so I don’t think that counts.)

OK, so here are my goals for 2012, written in second person:

1. Finish writing The Boy in the Sword (novelette) and submit it
2. Finish editing Dreamgiver (novelette) and submit it
3. Finish playing all the video games you started
4. Finish writing fantasy novel, plan and start writing next novel (The Melody Box maybe?)
5. Edit fantasy novel, get feedback from first-readers, and submit to agents
6. Work on designing video game(s)
7. Read 10 fiction books and 10 non-fiction books
8. Finish Animation Mentor and attend graduation in California!
9. Finish cartoon pitch and pitch it to studios… in California!
10. Get an animation job… in California! (or anywhere)
11. Listen to 100 classical music albums
12. Watch 200 movies that you’ve never seen before
13. Release an update to your Melody Generator for Android

I doubt I’ll listen to that much music or watch that many movies or even read that many books, but oh well. They’re on the list.

My 2011 in review

For the most part, this was The Year of Animation Mentor. Between going to work and doing Animation Mentor work, I had very little time for much else. But I did take a leave of absence in the spring to prevent myself from going completely crazy, and used that time to finish creating my Melody Generator for Android, which is the best melody generator in the world.

Every December I write out my goals for the year ahead. I’m still not very good at keeping things realistic, and I tend to change my mind about my desires. Anyway, let’s look back on my 2011 goals and see how badly I did. A lot of the goals I knew were unrealistic anyway.

1. Do good work for Animation Mentor – and graduate!

Well, I didn’t graduate since I took the leave of absence, but I’m prepared for my final semester when the new year begins. I should finish in March 2012, leaving the rest of the year for a much more interesting job search than my previous boring Computer Science degree allowed.

2. Learn to model an environment in Blender

Yeah, I kinda lost interest in Blender. I’m still interested in it, really, I’m just interested in other things more. I’ll keep my books on it, though. I might use it yet.

3. Learn to model and animate a character in Blender

Same as above.

4. Continue trying to sell screenplay The Melody Box

I did for a little while. I think I will try turning the story into a novel in 2012.

5. Write a “listening guide” companion to my album

Never did that. Might in 2012, but probably won’t. I’m not sure there’s any interest, and I’m too interested in other stuff.

6. Finish writing a novel – and finish planning another

Still haven’t achieved this one. But I’m continuing to work on it.

7. Finish writing 15 short stories

Yeah right.

8. Listen to the complete works of Mozart

Too busy doing other stuff.

9. Listen to 100 other pieces of classical music

I wish.

10. Read 25 fiction books, 25 non-fiction books, and 300 short stories

Ha! I’ve gotten so little reading done this year, it’s terrible. Only 2 or 3 books I think. But I did buy a bunch of books when Borders went out of business. I should have more time in 2012 as I finish up with Animation Mentor.

11. Practice drawing for 100 hours

I got a few hours of practice in, but nowhere near 100. That’ll never happen.

12. Play video games for 100 hours (I can dream, yes?)

Dream dream dream…

13. Watch lots of movies and TV shows… to study story structure (“Save the Cat” style)

Define “lots”…

14. Spend as little money as possible… save it for a 2012 vacation!

Animation Mentor took most of my money (which I’m happy to pay; getting professional advice and critiques from such top-notch working animators from the big studios is worth it). Fortunately I just recently paid tuition for the last Animation Mentor semester, so until my California trip, or until I move out (what?), my savings should only go up.

2011 was also the year of family deaths, unfortunately. We lost two grandparents and the family dog. That was not so fun. Seems a lot of people I know also lost relatives.

Neverland

neverland

I just finished watching the miniseries Neverland that came on the Syfy channel here in the USA.  The miniseries provided an interesting explanation for the nature of Neverland involving an 400 year old alchemist from Queen Elizabeth I’s era (how do you write possessives with roman numerals?) and some galactic space-time continuum jargon.  I enjoyed the friends-to-enemies back story of Peter and Hook, and the explanation of how both pirates and Indians wound up in Neverland.

What I felt was most lacking were the main characters’ motivations.  In fact, I’m not even sure what Peter wanted, besides to oppose Hook.  Meanwhile, Hook wanted superpowers (in the form of a special mineral dust; I’m glad they didn’t call anything “pixie” or “fairy”), but seemingly for no deeper reason than any typical villain wants superpowers—because they’re superpowers.  I would’ve tried to give them deeper issues.  For example, perhaps Peter is seeking parental guidance and approval.  Perhaps he knows what kind of loving relationship he’s missing out on by being an orphan, and this is torture for him.  It would be pretty cliché (orphans in books are always struggling with this issue), but Peter might get away with it, since it would help explain the whole “Wendy is our mother” element of the traditional Peter Pan tale.  An issue for Hook: perhaps he sees in Peter everything he could’ve been were he a bit more clever and popular.  Perhaps he’s just plain jealous of Peter and the relationships he’s able to forge in Neverland.  He hates Peter because he craves everything he has.  Wanting the superpowers is his way of getting even, or at least that’s his hope.  “Once the power is mine, I’ll have nothing to envy.”  These are just examples; the point is, I think the characters would’ve been more sympathetic with these deeper issues plaguing their minds.

The special effects were fantastic for a TV film, though the flying looked rather awful.  But I can’t blame them too much for that; I think humans always look pretty horrible flying.  The flying looked much better in Disney’s animated version, I reckon because animators could have so much more control over the characters’ feeling of weight, and how the center of gravity swings back and forth during a flying move so that it looks like the body is moving of its own accord and not attached to some invisible string.

Lastly, the ending made no sense at all, but this is another thing I can’t blame them too much for.  Neverland is trying to set the stage for the tradition Peter Pan story, and the beginning of the traditional Peter Pan story makes no sense.  But J. M. Barrie could get away with that in his day, because back then people didn’t have very high standards.  (OK, different standards at least.)

Over all, it was some good food for my writerly imagination.

This review says:

When this Peter Pan origins tale isn’t gutting small children with giant swords, it’s pumping Native Americans full of bullets and pushing Pirates off cliffs. Oh and there’s sex in it too, and fairy genocide — so yeah, "gritty" is one way to describe it. Or you could say: a bunch of adults ham-fistededly stuff somewhat salacious origin tropes into a poor, unsuspecting fairy tale.

Apparently someone grew up watching too much Disney and not actually reading many fantasy stories.  Neverland was hardly what I’d call “gritty” at all.

Adult fails student test… adults somehow surprised by this

According to this blog / article:

A longtime friend on the school board of one of the largest school systems in America … took versions of his state’s high-stakes standardized math and reading tests for 10th graders, and said he’d make his scores public.

After taking the tests, the guy said (quote abridged):

The math section had 60 questions. I knew the answers to none of them, but managed to guess ten out of the 60 correctly. On the reading test, I got 62%.

I have a wide circle of friends in various professions. … Not a single one of them said that the math I described was necessary in their profession.

It might be argued that I’ve been out of school too long, that if I’d actually been in the 10th grade prior to taking the test, the material would have been fresh. But doesn’t that miss the point? A test that can determine a student’s future life chances should surely relate in some practical way to the requirements of life. I can’t see how that could possibly be true of the test I took.

It makes no sense to me that a test with the potential for shaping a student’s entire future has so little apparent relevance to adult, real-world functioning. Who decided the kind of questions and their level of difficulty? Using what criteria? To whom did they have to defend their decisions? As subject-matter specialists, how qualified were they to make general judgments about the needs of this state’s children in a future they can’t possibly predict? Who set the pass-fail “cut score”? How?

I can’t escape the conclusion that decisions about the [state test] in particular and standardized tests in general are being made by individuals who lack perspective and aren’t really accountable.

Yeah! That’s what I’ve been saying! As I wrote in this previous post:

… it is a waste of time for a student to be forced to study material that is unusable and uninteresting to him. This is a completely foreign concept to most people working in education, because they tend to just take the actual content for granted.

Part of me is a bit angry that this adult had to take the test in the first place to prove to himself what every sensible student already realizes and has been complaining about for years and years. (“When am I ever going to use this?” Teachers, c’mon, how can you be so comfortable teaching for a living when you can’t even answer this question well enough?) But another part of me is happy that someone out there finally gets it.

The article then goes off an a tangent about teacher accountability, which, I think, is an entirely different issue. Nobody’s really forcing teachers to do what they do, the way parents and teachers can force students to do the dumb tests and assignments they have to do. That is, the article seems to victimize teachers, when the real victims are the students, and teachers are part of the problem.

This related article makes it clearer to me why the first article diverged into the accountability issue. The test in question is the FCAT:

The FCAT, begun in 1998, has been given annually to students in grades 3 to 11 in mathematics, reading, science and writing. It is the bedrock of what is regarded as one of the nation’s most extensive and widely studied school accountability systems.

I can’t really comment too much on the FCAT or the accountability issue; I don’t know all the details. These articles sure make it sound like a really stupid and harmful system. But if it’s an issue of accountability that encourages teachers and others to question their curricula, then I’d argue we need more teacher and administrator accountability. A lot of it. Ideally, we shouldn’t — I believe a good education should be in a students’ hands more than anyone else’s — but if teacher accountability forces teachers into action (or deliberate inaction), then I’m all for it.

The real issue to me is the dumb curricula, forcing students to learn and be tested on skills and information they are not interested in and are never going to use in the real world. (I definitely have other problems with the education system, of course, but this is probably the biggest one.) Although these articles talk about the FCAT specifically, which I’ve never had any experience with, I think curricula problems exist nation-wide. If students are the only ones who have to suffer the effects of bad grades, even while they’re in the least powerful position to do anything about the material they’re tested on, nothing can change until those students themselves get out of school and do something about it, and most of them are more likely to just forget about it. Making teachers suffer for their students’ bad grades should perhaps get them to care a bit more about what specific material students are being forced to deal with, making them realize that, duh, this material is useless and is a waste of time.

Instead of connecting what we learn in school with being successful in the real world, we are doing it in reverse. We are testing first and then kids go into the real world. Whether the information they have learned is important or not becomes secondary. If you really did a study on what math most kids need, I guarantee you could probably dump about 80 percent of math scores and leave high-level math for the kids who want it and will need it.

I think this applies to many more tests than just the FCAT.

Science… and that other thing

(I actually typed this up a few years ago and never posted it for some reason.  I’m not sure I remember my original frame of mind, but I think I still agree with everything I wrote.  I edited it a bit and am posting it now, even though I guess it may seem a bit random.  I found it today while backing up files in safe mode, fearing a hard-drive failure.  But that’s another story.)

This is a huge philosophical topic that there are probably mountains of books about, probably with much more to say and better writing than I provide below, but here are some of my brief thoughts on the matter.

I write about this because I recently heard someone who is semi-religious express doubt in their future church-going habits due to the wonders of science.  It’s probably a laughable thought to most people, theist or not, but even an atheism’s “faith in science” sometimes confuses me, as if he thinks science naturally trumps religion, or that science is as logical as 2+2=4 (as if math=science).

That is, sometimes it seems like people talk about “science” without really considering what it is.  Science really only explains phenomena as much as we can infer cause-and-effect relationships from repeated experiments.  It is still very easy to infer the wrong thing with an incompletely or poorly designed experiment.  Scientific knowledge still depends on one making a choice as to whether or not to take certain experimental results as evidence of a certain inferred relationship.  Simply put, all cause-and-effect relationships are inferred.  That is, all scientific explanations are based on inductive reasoning.  That is, we plan to do something, and we guess what will happen.  Then we do it, and observe what happens.  Then we change variables, and see what happens.  Etc.  We keep doing this over and over.  We predict, experiment, observe, and attempt to explain these observations based on what we’ve learned to make another prediction.  That’s all.

In schools, I think it can be easy to get the wrong notion of science because students spend more time studying the conclusions rather than how those conclusions were decided upon.  Science is not just about pulling conclusions out of the air based only on observations, but nor is it as infallible as a math equation; it still depends on human choices and decisions, and, when there are conflicts, faith.  Of course, it would be impractical to study the history and processes of all experiments, and many things we can intuitively understand anyway, like the effects of gravity and friction.  That is, doing labs every week to learn simple physics equations is a huge waste of time, which is probably why my high school AP Physics teacher, who thought differently, isn’t teaching anymore.  (On another side note, to include creationism in a lesson on evolution is illogical; I’m surprised that certain humans are so dumb as to consider it necessary even to appease certain others.  That said, I’m also annoyed that so many humans don’t even seem to understand what theories of evolution actually state, as if “God didn’t create humans” is one of their principles.)

There are many things we can’t conduct experiments on.  For example, our planet’s temperature.  We can’t make observations about whether or not it’s mostly humans that are causing global warming (if that warming is even considered significant) because we only have one globe and very little data about how temperature fluctuated on the planet before we could measure it.  Or even the question of what will determine whether or not a photon will pass through or be reflected by a beam splitter, or all the other things quantum physicists end up having to use probability for.  We don’t know of (perhaps because we can’t detect or measure) any physical variables that predictably change the outcomes of these quantum experiments.

There are moral statements like: “murder is wrong.”  How do you do an experiment to determine whether or not murder is wrong?  And, just because you can’t do an experiment to answer the question, does that mean you can’t know?  Or what about: “an experiment we don’t know how to do will work.”  The only way to know is to do that experiment.  Or even: “science is right.”  You can’t do an experiment for that.  Science itself can’t even be right or wrong in the first place; science provides the system for which we can draw conclusions that can be right or wrong.  Science, in and of itself, doesn’t do anything.

So, in a way, science and religion are certainly two different things; one is about explaining what will happen when we do certain things, which we use to learn how to do things we want to do (like make a TV); the other is about explaining how and why we are alive and conscious in the first place, and what we should mentally and physically do or not do (like not murdering each other).  If anything, religion, when regarded as a search for and consideration of truth in general, incorporates everything else, including science.  That’s not to say that they can’t be at odds with each other.  They can’t be in general (they need a specific context), but they can be when a human is wrong about one or the other (and it’s much easier to be noticeably wrong about religion, which is why science has the better reputation).  To reject religion in general because certain scientific experiments have allowed us to accurately predict how certain physical phenomena will happen when we do certain things (like make a TV) is illogical.

You can say that religion and science are compatible, but I think that makes the relationship seem too divided, as if they’re mutually exclusive entities, as if they’re friends holding hands.  Rather, I think they’re compatible like a car (religion) is compatible with an air conditioning system.  You don’t really need an air conditioning system, but it certainly feels better to have one, and it will be in your human nature to want one.  But without the rest of the car, you’re not really going anywhere.  (Well, maybe Hell.)

Hugo 3D

hugo3

I saw Hugo in 3D tonight.  I am now going to praise it a bit:

The film’s use of 3D was the best I’ve ever seen.  Yes, it is the best 3D film yet made.  All those people who complain: “eh, it doesn’t really add anything.”  In this case, it does.  But even with one eye, the cinematography, use of color, composition, etc. is just beautiful.  The movie posters and trailers don’t at all capture the spirit of the film itself.  The adaptation from the book is wonderful.  It’s not the same as the book—there are additions, deletions, and changes—but that should be expected from any adaptation.  And in this case, I think they all worked superbly.  The movie’s use of history’s earliest films makes the story seem like it is much better suited as a movie in the first place.  I really loved the story’s celebration of the human imagination, from books to magic tricks to mechanics to movies.  And the theme about how the world is like a clock.

So, if you get the chance to see it, I highly recommend it.  And in 3D.