WARNING: do NOT read if you have not watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Yes, it contains spoilers. Yes, it contains my thoughts on the film. No, you won't get most of it if you haven't watched the film. So even if you don't intend to watch it, probably reading this is pointless.
Today I was supposed to get some work done. Instead, I've been in bed all day, ordered pizza, watched quite a bit of Masterchef (US, second season), the first episode of the new True Blood series (it's the last one right?) and when that was done I decided I wanted to watch a movie.
The idea was to watch a romcom, but then I came across Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Let me tell you my history with the movie first. I hate Jim Carrey. Really hate him. And when I first went to watch this movie, Kate Winslet wasn't as big as she is now. And yet, when we got to the cinema (I was with my mum and dad, must have been around 13 at the time?) either nothing else was showing, or what we'd decided to watch wasn't on at the hour advertised, or my parents had already decided to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind without telling me. Long story short: I wasn't really keen, but we went in anyway. I haven't watched it since until today but it has been since that day one of my favourite films.
And yes, I love this film. It gets a bit long at times, rambling through the memories in Joel's mind. It's not perfect. But for all the little things it gets wrong, it gets almost everything right. The first scenes, from Joel waking up to him getting on the train to Clementine saying she'll get a toothbrush are perfect. Yes, he is a bit of a loser, and clearly he is sad. Yes, she is aggressive, and a bit strange. But we all have days like that. Days when we feel like shit and skive off work. Days when a person catches our eye and we can't help but say hello. Days when we come on a bit too hard.
I don't know, but I suspect that Joel and Clementine are both archetypes. She is the wild, unpredictable dreamer, the woman in her late twenties or early thirties who refuses to have what others might consider a stable job or lead a "normal" life, but whom others see as a bit of a waste, because in the end she's not really fighting the system: she does have a job she hates and she needs to pay the rent like the rest of us and drinks a little bit too much at times. But at least she is alive. And at times that makes her happy, even if she does (and she admits it) get bored.
Joel is the "safe" one. He is socially awkward (but not in an "I don't have friends and don't know how to talk to people" way, but in a "Certain social situations engineered to make us talk to each other are just weird and I don't know what to do with them" way, which I suspect most of us can relate to once in a while). He does his job. He is (at his own admission) not spontaneous, and he's worried about breaking the rules. And he also wants to be happy. Clementine makes him happy because she's carefree and breaks the rules and lets him have fun, but it goes against his beliefs that someone like that can also be a responsible partner, so he has trouble having a relationship with her. Because deep down, he doesn't trust her. He doesn't see her as a long term thing.
Part of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is about breaking these archetypes. It is about showing that people are not a mold, they're not what they're supposed to be. That people who are sweet can also be hurtful and mean; that people who are wild and crazy can also be incredibly loyal (this might be just my interpretation of Clementine saying at the end "I wouldn't do that. I am not like that". Joel has a preconception of how she will act based on the idea he has formed of her as a carefree wild spirit, and it turns out that he is wrong. She might be wild and crazy and carefree, but she means it when she says "if you're with me you're with me").
Another (to me huge) part of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is the science fiction. Because let's face it, this is a science fiction film. There aren't machines out there that erase your memories. The consequences of deleting memories are not a known variable. So Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is a science fiction movie. And to me, that makes it even better. It shows what matters in science fiction. I have met a lot of people who maintain that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind isn't science fiction, that the deleting is only a construct helping the film. To me, this is the best kind of science fiction. The kind that does not use sci-fi as a setting, but as a medium to explore possibilities, a medium to tell a story. The best kind of science fiction is the sort that is necessary to the story, so necessary that it is believable, so necessary that people will argue "it's not science fiction, it is just a way to tell the story". A strictly realistic author would not have been able to tell the story at all. A truly realistic author would not have had as much fun with the van, and the machines around Joel's bed, but most of all, a strictly realistic author could not have told the story, because so much of it hinges on memories being erased and how that affects people and how discovering that it is happening or has happened affects people.
The Mary back story I always found weak. But it is brilliant in itself. It is one of perhaps three parts played by Kirsten Dunst that I admire profoundly and make me think she is actually a fantastic actress with an unforgivable preference for bad scripts. I don't like it because the part is clearly a ploy so that Joel and Clementine can have their tapes back. I do not find the romance between her and Stan believable at all. And I also have trouble believing that Howard would let her keep her job and keep seeing him every day after she had him removed. I think that part of the plot is weak, but no less well executed (when Howard's wife turns up, now that is powerful) in parts.
I read recently how Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was a metaphor for how people fall in love and deal with break ups and a criticism as to scientific manipulation of the mind (the message seems to be, if you invested so much in someone then you won't actually be able to forget them). But to me the last conversation in the film sums it up quite well. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is about how when we fall in love, we almost forget that we've been hurt before, and most of us, most of the time, will risk being hurt again.
Anyways, time for another film. Doubt it will be as good, but at least it won't be a rewatch (nothing wrong with rewatches but I've been doing a lot of that lately). If you have any suggestions as to movies in the spirit of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, please comment below. I'd love to watch more.
Monday, 23 June 2014
Sunday, 22 June 2014
On tone policing
Most probably, the first time I came across tone policing was on a feminist blog. Tone policing is a social justice issue because it is one of the ways that privileged people exert control and establish superiority over others. If I'm screaming because I am in pain, and the person who is causing that pain reacts to my scream by saying that my screaming makes it impossible for them to listen to me (and therefore makes it impossible for them understand that they are causing me pain and that they need to change their behaviour), then we are in trouble. If we add to that that if I stop screaming in pain, try to breath in and out and calmly inform them that they are causing me pain, they will say that obviously I am not because I am not screaming it is completely maddening. So yes, I can understand where rejections to tone policing come from.
But here's the other side: when it comes to arguments and anger, I personally have a lot of trouble with people screaming at me. If I have done something wrong, and you tell me politely, I will listen to do and do all I can to rectify (if I believe I am in the wrong), or in the very least I will have a discussion with you about it and try to figure out what I can do to make things better. However, if you start screaming at me, I zone out. I can't deal. I feel I am being violently attacked and my reaction is to disappear. I hide within myself, stop listening and just want it to be over. On some occasions, out of pure fear/discomfort I might smile nervously or laugh. It's not that I find the person shouting funny, or the situation funny, it's that I have trouble processing it and my brain has trouble coping with it. No, I do not like being screamed at. And yes, I do understand that when you are angry and in the heat of the moment sometimes you can't help but screaming, and I am never going to criticise you for that. I just ask that in return you understand that if you scream at me I'm probably not going to listen. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. The only way I can explain it is like this: when someone starts screaming at me, at a certain point I can only hear the volume. I have heightened awareness of how close they are to me and what gestures they are making, probably because I am afraid they might strike me), I feel unable to move, and unable to react a lot further than to nod or agree because I just want the situation to be over. At some point, I stop hearing them. I become more aware of my surroundings than of the person I am interacting with because it is making me so uncomfortable that I block them out. And more than anything, I try to efface myself, and hide, I usually hang my head. These reactions are mostly unconscious, and even worse, when I say something in this situation (for example, if I try to apologize) people tend to think I am not being genuine. They are right. I am not. Not because I think they're wrong, but because usually in this situation the only thing I want is for it to be over. I am not thinking about what I have done, or whether what you're saying is reasonable. I just want the aggression to stop.
So I have a dilemma. I am against tone policing in principle, because I believe that people should be heard and that it's natural to be angry about certain things. However, I am one of those people who probably tend to tone police, because it makes it harder for me to listen when people are using an aggressive tone. I do not know how to solve this issue. It is problematic, especially because it means (amongst other things) that I can't work with certain people. It's funny, because in a way I love confrontation. I like heated debates, I like people who are passionate about what they're saying, I love people who get angry about unfairness. But yes, I tone police. If you're shouting at me I won't listen to you. And yes, a lot of the time this is purely involuntary, but a lot of the time it is entirely intentional. I don't want to be screamed at, and I have a right to have conversations in my own terms.
I have been known to say to people, "If you're going to scream at me, I'm not going to listen to you, I would rather not have this conversation". This is a perfect example of tone policing. And I dislike myself (a little bit for it), but here's the thing: I'm not doing it to stop you from expressing your ideas. I swear I'm not. If I could handle people screaming at me violently, I would try to listen. If you're screaming at someone else rather than me, I will listen. If instead of screaming you are aggressive in your tone (pitch) but not your volume or gestures, I will listen to you. I do not have a problem with anger. I think anger is necessary and it drives people. But screaming just shuts me down completely. Basically, in the same way that when I'm telling you "I won't listen to you if you shout at me" is tone policing, shouting at me is content policing. If you shout at me it's a sure way of not ever getting a response from me (or at least a real one, a constructive one). You will win the argument, not because I agree with you, but because I am unable to argue against the shouting. And I will probably be very wary of engaging with you again.
I guess the point of this is that I respect and understand that tone policing exists and that it is not good, and that it is a form of exerting control over oppressed minorities. But I also understand that some people refuse to engage with people who are violent in how they express their views, either on principle or simply because they have trouble dealing with that violence. So, the next time someone asks you to express your point without screaming at them don't shut them down directly by saying "that's tone policing! You have to listen to me because only the content is important!". Some people can't do this. For some people being shouted at, or being spoken to violently is a huge trigger and is unproductive (when not dangerous). So be angry. Be passionate. Say what you think. But be aware of other people's issues. Not everyone can take being shouted at in stride.
But here's the other side: when it comes to arguments and anger, I personally have a lot of trouble with people screaming at me. If I have done something wrong, and you tell me politely, I will listen to do and do all I can to rectify (if I believe I am in the wrong), or in the very least I will have a discussion with you about it and try to figure out what I can do to make things better. However, if you start screaming at me, I zone out. I can't deal. I feel I am being violently attacked and my reaction is to disappear. I hide within myself, stop listening and just want it to be over. On some occasions, out of pure fear/discomfort I might smile nervously or laugh. It's not that I find the person shouting funny, or the situation funny, it's that I have trouble processing it and my brain has trouble coping with it. No, I do not like being screamed at. And yes, I do understand that when you are angry and in the heat of the moment sometimes you can't help but screaming, and I am never going to criticise you for that. I just ask that in return you understand that if you scream at me I'm probably not going to listen. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. The only way I can explain it is like this: when someone starts screaming at me, at a certain point I can only hear the volume. I have heightened awareness of how close they are to me and what gestures they are making, probably because I am afraid they might strike me), I feel unable to move, and unable to react a lot further than to nod or agree because I just want the situation to be over. At some point, I stop hearing them. I become more aware of my surroundings than of the person I am interacting with because it is making me so uncomfortable that I block them out. And more than anything, I try to efface myself, and hide, I usually hang my head. These reactions are mostly unconscious, and even worse, when I say something in this situation (for example, if I try to apologize) people tend to think I am not being genuine. They are right. I am not. Not because I think they're wrong, but because usually in this situation the only thing I want is for it to be over. I am not thinking about what I have done, or whether what you're saying is reasonable. I just want the aggression to stop.
So I have a dilemma. I am against tone policing in principle, because I believe that people should be heard and that it's natural to be angry about certain things. However, I am one of those people who probably tend to tone police, because it makes it harder for me to listen when people are using an aggressive tone. I do not know how to solve this issue. It is problematic, especially because it means (amongst other things) that I can't work with certain people. It's funny, because in a way I love confrontation. I like heated debates, I like people who are passionate about what they're saying, I love people who get angry about unfairness. But yes, I tone police. If you're shouting at me I won't listen to you. And yes, a lot of the time this is purely involuntary, but a lot of the time it is entirely intentional. I don't want to be screamed at, and I have a right to have conversations in my own terms.
I have been known to say to people, "If you're going to scream at me, I'm not going to listen to you, I would rather not have this conversation". This is a perfect example of tone policing. And I dislike myself (a little bit for it), but here's the thing: I'm not doing it to stop you from expressing your ideas. I swear I'm not. If I could handle people screaming at me violently, I would try to listen. If you're screaming at someone else rather than me, I will listen. If instead of screaming you are aggressive in your tone (pitch) but not your volume or gestures, I will listen to you. I do not have a problem with anger. I think anger is necessary and it drives people. But screaming just shuts me down completely. Basically, in the same way that when I'm telling you "I won't listen to you if you shout at me" is tone policing, shouting at me is content policing. If you shout at me it's a sure way of not ever getting a response from me (or at least a real one, a constructive one). You will win the argument, not because I agree with you, but because I am unable to argue against the shouting. And I will probably be very wary of engaging with you again.
I guess the point of this is that I respect and understand that tone policing exists and that it is not good, and that it is a form of exerting control over oppressed minorities. But I also understand that some people refuse to engage with people who are violent in how they express their views, either on principle or simply because they have trouble dealing with that violence. So, the next time someone asks you to express your point without screaming at them don't shut them down directly by saying "that's tone policing! You have to listen to me because only the content is important!". Some people can't do this. For some people being shouted at, or being spoken to violently is a huge trigger and is unproductive (when not dangerous). So be angry. Be passionate. Say what you think. But be aware of other people's issues. Not everyone can take being shouted at in stride.
Sunday, 1 June 2014
Backlog
Currently there are 33 unpublished posts saved as drafts in my blog. Most of them will eventually be deleted. Failed stories, posts where the argument was lost, posts that I couldn't be arsed to work on more. They are mostly a reminder of my incapability to sit down and research before I work. I admit it, I write on impulse, when I need to write. Occasionally I do research (I try not to quote when I am uninformed) but sometimes I am lazy.
There are two drafts that particularly annoy me each time I see them but I can't bring myself to delete. One of them is (actually, two, I started twice) is about the Nobel prize winning work on vesicle traffic of Rothman, Scheckman and Südhof; the other about the evolution of horses.
The incompleteness of each of these entries bothers me for different reasons: in the case of the vesicle trafficking is for my lack of ability to write about a topic in biology that I am truly not interested in (even though I do know a little bit about it, including quite some knowledge I have somehow collected on membrane fusing proteins and hole punching proteins); in the case of horse evolution it is my incapability of making interesting a topic that I personally find fascinating. Both of them failures on my part, failures that reflect my tendency to procrastination and impulsiveness. Even right now, I am writing this post to avoid writing my final year project report, the first draft of which is due in tomorrow. I am a terrible human being. I will probably stay up all night working. I might show up in McDonald's in a couple of hours to pick up some diet coke, or directly go to sleep.
What is this incapability to finish what I begin? I have concluded that it is quite simple: most humans are failures. Not complete failures of course, but mostly failures. We console ourselves with the fact that we are doing a little bit better than others, but very few of us are truly extraordinary. In fact, extraordinary humans (the truly good scientists, the writers, the artists, the intelligent politicians, the doctors, or the people who make the world a little better) sometimes pretend to be normal! You read interviews with them and they pretend like they have defects. But I'm sure they don't. They're good. They're better than any of us. They just don't want to show it. That's one side of it.
The other side is ours, the side of the lesser people. I cannot remember when I first read that Condolezza Rice slept five hours a day. But since then there are two different ideas that go through my mind every time I think of that. The first one is that she must be lying. It is impossible. I can't live without less than 8 or 9 hours, it is impossible that she can be a world class politician, in incredible shape and also a concert level pianist on just 5 hours. It cannot be true. Maybe at times in her life she has lived like that but it can't be her routine. The second one is, I suspect, even worse: it gives me an excuse. Well, of course she's that good! She's got an extra three or four hours on me. Of course with three or four more hours I could do better.
No, the fact is that I waste my time. I admit it. I have watched more TV than I care to admit, reread more books than I should have, enjoyed many bottles of wine in the company of friends. The fact is, I don't work harder because I don't want to. I don't like it. I am lazy. And I'm not doing all that badly, which only leads me to suspect that most people really don't work that hard. Or once again, maybe I'm just consoling myself.
Except for one thing: I can write. On here, and to the people who read me, it probably sounds pretentious. "She's not that good a writer". But I am. I swear. My short stories are mostly written in Spanish, but I was reading one collection the other day and I was impressed. The girl who wrote them (me between the ages of 10 and 17) has talent. She can fucking write. She's a bit young, of course, the stories are, not infantile, but not exactly mature, but they're good. Some of them are even excellent. And yes, I am giving myself praise. But not myself from now. I have said it, now I can hardly work on a short post for my blog. But that girl would work for hours and days and weeks on those stories. She had help, let me tell you, she did, but those stories are hers. So yes, sometimes, when I think of how great everyone else is, and how I can't finish anything in time, I go back to my stories, or I write one. It's what I know how to do. And the funniest thing is that if anyone asked me, I could not say it was effortless, or that I am gifted or anything like that. All I can say is, writing a story takes luck, hard work, and very good critics. And more work. And hours, and days. Coming back to it. Being harsh on yourself. Deleting that sentence that seems so perfect but just isn't part of the story. Yes, when I think of writing suddenly I believe all of those people who claim they are normal. But only then.
There are two drafts that particularly annoy me each time I see them but I can't bring myself to delete. One of them is (actually, two, I started twice) is about the Nobel prize winning work on vesicle traffic of Rothman, Scheckman and Südhof; the other about the evolution of horses.
The incompleteness of each of these entries bothers me for different reasons: in the case of the vesicle trafficking is for my lack of ability to write about a topic in biology that I am truly not interested in (even though I do know a little bit about it, including quite some knowledge I have somehow collected on membrane fusing proteins and hole punching proteins); in the case of horse evolution it is my incapability of making interesting a topic that I personally find fascinating. Both of them failures on my part, failures that reflect my tendency to procrastination and impulsiveness. Even right now, I am writing this post to avoid writing my final year project report, the first draft of which is due in tomorrow. I am a terrible human being. I will probably stay up all night working. I might show up in McDonald's in a couple of hours to pick up some diet coke, or directly go to sleep.
What is this incapability to finish what I begin? I have concluded that it is quite simple: most humans are failures. Not complete failures of course, but mostly failures. We console ourselves with the fact that we are doing a little bit better than others, but very few of us are truly extraordinary. In fact, extraordinary humans (the truly good scientists, the writers, the artists, the intelligent politicians, the doctors, or the people who make the world a little better) sometimes pretend to be normal! You read interviews with them and they pretend like they have defects. But I'm sure they don't. They're good. They're better than any of us. They just don't want to show it. That's one side of it.
The other side is ours, the side of the lesser people. I cannot remember when I first read that Condolezza Rice slept five hours a day. But since then there are two different ideas that go through my mind every time I think of that. The first one is that she must be lying. It is impossible. I can't live without less than 8 or 9 hours, it is impossible that she can be a world class politician, in incredible shape and also a concert level pianist on just 5 hours. It cannot be true. Maybe at times in her life she has lived like that but it can't be her routine. The second one is, I suspect, even worse: it gives me an excuse. Well, of course she's that good! She's got an extra three or four hours on me. Of course with three or four more hours I could do better.
No, the fact is that I waste my time. I admit it. I have watched more TV than I care to admit, reread more books than I should have, enjoyed many bottles of wine in the company of friends. The fact is, I don't work harder because I don't want to. I don't like it. I am lazy. And I'm not doing all that badly, which only leads me to suspect that most people really don't work that hard. Or once again, maybe I'm just consoling myself.
Except for one thing: I can write. On here, and to the people who read me, it probably sounds pretentious. "She's not that good a writer". But I am. I swear. My short stories are mostly written in Spanish, but I was reading one collection the other day and I was impressed. The girl who wrote them (me between the ages of 10 and 17) has talent. She can fucking write. She's a bit young, of course, the stories are, not infantile, but not exactly mature, but they're good. Some of them are even excellent. And yes, I am giving myself praise. But not myself from now. I have said it, now I can hardly work on a short post for my blog. But that girl would work for hours and days and weeks on those stories. She had help, let me tell you, she did, but those stories are hers. So yes, sometimes, when I think of how great everyone else is, and how I can't finish anything in time, I go back to my stories, or I write one. It's what I know how to do. And the funniest thing is that if anyone asked me, I could not say it was effortless, or that I am gifted or anything like that. All I can say is, writing a story takes luck, hard work, and very good critics. And more work. And hours, and days. Coming back to it. Being harsh on yourself. Deleting that sentence that seems so perfect but just isn't part of the story. Yes, when I think of writing suddenly I believe all of those people who claim they are normal. But only then.
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