Freedom and love

(I apologize that much of this isn't gender-neutral, but I am a man, and I'm putting these questions primarily to myself. I look forward to hearing your comments, though!)

I am fascinated by difficult choices, the moral quandaries in which the choice isn't good and evil, but two nearly equal qualities.

One of the first of these I thought excessively about is mercy and justice. This became particularly important to me when I started teaching college a few years ago. While judging student performance fairly is vital (after all, we wouldn't have grades without it), it's also difficult to look at a student who's genuinely struggling and say there is no room for circumstances. I'm still a sucker for the sob story. As much as it's important to be just (for the sake of the respect of my students, if not for Crom's sake!), I can't ignore that there is a personal relationship in all things, and people are not robots who exist to write papers and take classes mechanically. Life is a complex, varied mix, and it's impossible to foresee every eventuality that might net a student some leniency. Not only that, but I also have to keep in mind what the just grade would do to the squishy things like a student's self esteem and enthusiasm for a subject, which in many cases is on shaky ground as it is.

I have been pondering another question these days: freedom and love. Our modern society is fortunate--and spoiled--by having more freedom than almost any other people in history. Naturally, true freedom is largely rhetorical, since it's impossible to be absolutely free outside an anarchy. As opposed to Mad Max, a modern human is always immediately beholden to someone, whether a corporation, a government, or a religion. When we speak of freedom, then, we speak of degrees of freedom, of the difference between being free to light someone on fire and being free to express my own opinions or pursue a life that makes me happy. It's the freedom of women to live without fear or shame, as equals to men, and the freedom of all people to embrace their identities without prejudice.

It's difficult for me, I think, to imagine a world without freedom. I see it on the news, and I recognize the threat when the government steps up surveillance and detention, but I don't know the feeling of another man's boot on my neck.

Often I see the sentiment repeated that love is the greatest thing a man can aspire to, that life isn't worth living without it, and that it is man's greatest happiness. I believe true happiness can be found in love, and that humanity is by nature lonely without the embrace of a kindred spirit, the union between two souls, and the building of a family.

But the two may conflict. Perhaps the clearest conflict is the choice than comes with oppression and injustice. Does one stay home and safe, or leave everything he loves to fight? Does he risk losing all those things to go far away, fighting for something much less tangible than what he has? Is it worth dying for, leaving a family fatherless and hearts broken, for a cause like that? It is much easier, after all, to make do with the sacrifices oppression demands. It is safer to say "we cannot change these things, and it is foolish to try." We more readily bow our heads before the great inevitability of forces beyond our own strength.

This is a question I can't answer now. Is it a noble, good death to die for freedom? Is it just a word, an amorphous concept that never really exists? Is it all rhetoric to send men to their deaths, a bourgeois tool of control? Or is there true freedom, and is it really worth dying for? After all, it's not just the one life at stake, but the life and happiness of many that depend on that one.

I can only be glad that I do not yet have to answer these questions, and hope that, if the choice is put to me, I will choose well. Now, because I am young and idealistic, I believe I would choose one way, but I can just as well see the other side. After all, I have no love, and so it feels easier to give up the idea of it.



The poem that springs to mind when I think about this topic is one by the legendary Hungarian poet Sandor Petofi:

Szabadság, szerelem!
E kettő kell nekem.
Szerelmemért föláldozom
Az életet,
Szabadságért föláldozom
Szerelmemet.

(My translation:)
Freedom, love!
I need these two things.
For my love I sacrifice
My life,
For freedom I sacrifice
My love.



And he did.

Why I Love Star Wars

It's difficult to explain why we love anything because love is a pure emotion. Never ask your significant other, "Why do you love me?" We can no more explain the reasons we love than we can explain the feeling of love itself. Poets have been trying since the dawn of language, and we are no closer, not for lack of flower and moon imagery.

But I can get into some of the memories I have with Star Wars, and the joy it has brought me. I can still remember when I was a boy and I watched Star Wars for the first time with my parents. My dad tried to convince me that the lightsaber was really called a "life-saver." He also tried to say that Obi-Wan was Luke's uncle. I'm still not sure to this day whether he was serious or just screwing with me. I do remember he had pictures of himself with some original AT-AT models, since he told stories about how he had met some of the guys who worked on them.

Most of all, it's the moments from the movies that stand out to me the most. I remember the thrill that went through me the first time Luke turns on the lightsaber in Ben's hut. A simple piece of metal turned into a glowing blade in an instant! After seeing that, everything vaguely stick-shaped for me became a lightsaber. I remember playing Darth Vader and lightsaber fighting my brothers when my bed still had bars on the side and legs. I was convinced for a while that Darth Vader was a robot.

I particularly remember that my parents were scared that the rancor would freak me out, so they told me not to look. Naturally, nothing terrifies a kid as much as his imagination when he hears something scary and is told not to look at it. What our mind paints for us is far more terrifying than anything a creature shop can whip up. I still can't watch the rancor scene without flinching a little inside.

I remember watching the Ewok movies on cable. I remember it as something of a dream: I knew Ewoks and Endor from Star Wars, yet they were set apart from the characters and stories I knew and loved. It is still bizarre to me to watch them, like discovering after all these years that The Bible has a Part 2 starring only the apostles.

Years later, when I was perhaps 7 or 8, my mom read my brothers and me the Thrawn trilogy by Timothy Zahn. I remember running to our bedroom every night, singing the Star Wars theme song over and over until she got out the big hardcover from the library with the glossy cover and started to read. She read to us on the bumpy roads through the desert, and when she took breaks when the road got too bad to see the pages, I would look out the window and imagine the rolling sagebrush scenery filled with blaster fire, whirling starships, and the glow of lightsabers.

A few years after that, I owned just about every Star Wars action figure you could imagine. I would play with them constantly, inventing new stories, based on the movies and the books I was reading. For a while, I had every published novel read (except Splinter of the Mind's Eye, which I would only read many years later, to my horror). I owned dozens of the books and made my way through them without much awareness if they were good or not. I remember being vaguely disappointed with Darksaber, which I see now is one of the worst books I've read.

I got into the Star Wars video games. As a teenager, I owned Shadows of the Empire, but I never played it all that much. Later, I bought Jedi Academy, which is one of the better games I've played, and I particularly enjoyed playing it multiplayer. Every game eventually descended into flailing with lightsabers. I played a few hours of Battlefront and Battlefront 2, playing through the campaigns of each several times. I especially enjoyed the galactic battle modes. I played through The Force Unleashed and enjoyed it, but never played it again.

I've read and enjoyed much of the comics, especially Republic, which I hold to be head and shoulders above all other Star Wars comics I've read.

Perhaps my most striking memory is watching the Star Wars Holiday special with my brothers. For a while, we tried to make fun of it, but our quips and snarky comments became fewer and more hushed. Finally, we sat in stunned, awkward silence. It was like walking in on a woman you love hooking up with a drunk bald fat dude. It seemed like Star Wars, but the similarity only made it all the more awful.

Now, I enjoy (more or less) the Star Wars cartoon, and I eagerly anticipate the live-action TV show. I have a feeling that, despite everything that has happened, my love for Star Wars will stay strong. Those early memories full of lasers and lightsabers won't easily fade, no matter how many times I see Darth Vader say, "NOOOOOOOOO!" at the end of the Revenge of the Sith.

"Anakin. Go to the Senate and ask Chancellor Palpatine to speak with her about this matter."

I'm still on about Attack of the Clones. What can I say? I have a lot of hate stored up.

So Mace Windu, instead of trying to convince Amidala himself or asking Anakin or Obi-Wan to speak with her, tells Anakin to go tell Palpatine to tell Amidala to get out of Dodge? What!? That sounds like the kind of railroading a dungeon master might do.

But my real problem is still with the thin string that connects all the steps that lead to the Clone Wars. I know what fanboys will say: that the Force meant all this to happen, and therefore the wildly unlikely crap that goes down is all part of a greater plan. But let's go through this one step at a time:

1. Count Dooku hires Jango Fett to kill Amidala.
2. Jango Fett doesn't bother, you know, just shooting Amidala or something. Instead, he hires an assassin. Because nothing says badass bounty hunter like hiring a subcontractor.
3. Instead of, you know, just shooting Amidala, the assassin sends bugs into Amidala's room, giving Obi-Wan and Anakin the time to save her. (Did Jango Fett tell the assassin he doesn't REALLY want Amidala dead? Did Dooku tell Jango this in the first place?)
4. Obi-Wan and Anakin run down the assassin. Instead of, you know, just shooting the assassin with a blaster, Jango Fett decides to use a poison dart that is traceable to one particular world. This is the only time we see Jango use equipment other than his standard loadout. (Again, did Dooku tell Jango to not do stuff the logical way? As far as we know, blasters just leave burns that aren't traceable.)
5. "What you got here is a Kamino saber-dart." Yeah, because some greasy spoon hash-slinger knows high-tech weapons. Well, maybe he was someone else in his old life, but note that the reference to the weapon wasn't in the databanks, so instead of checking some other research source like some other library, Obi-Wan goes straight to the burger joint.
6. Obi-Wan takes the dude's word for it without any other evidence than a guy with grease all over him and a mouth that could swallow a yak telling him so.
7. Obi-Wan decides to research Kamino further, since apparently the weapon used is clearly linked to the assassination. That's kind of like if my enemy used an AK-47, I decide to check out a bunch of books about Russia.
8. Dooku erased Kamino from the Jedi databanks, but didn't doctor the files to adjust for the gravity of the star, so it's still obvious it's there. (I can only assume he did this on purpose to make it that much more suspicious.)
9. Obi-Wan decides to go check this stuff out by going all the way to the planet. At this point, he's still just researching the assassination, since he's probably not going to find out on Kamino why someone wiped the databanks on Coruscant. He hasn't researched who the assassin was or who hired him. He hasn't researched any of Amidala's political enemies or anyone else who might profit by her death. Instead, he runs down the source of the ammunition used to kill the assassin. Nobody gives a damn about the bugs that were used to try to kill Amidala herself, which could well be just as rare or specific to one world. We never even find out what those bugs are called. (Now, I know what you're thinking; maybe they did all that, but they just didn't show it. Well, they show so much useless nonsense between Padme and Anakin, that they could have filled in a little more of the plot holes. Just one line: "Everything else connected with this case has been a dead end, so I thought I'd research this dart.")
10. So what exactly is Obi-Wan expecting to do on Kamino? This is only what I imagine would have happened if there wouldn't have been a clone army on Kamino, which of course no one knew there was.

Kaminoan: Hey, a Jedi. You could have just called, you know, but I guess you came all the way out here. That's cool. Whatever. So, what's up?
Obi-Wan: Yo. I found this dart in the neck of a dude who tried to kill someone. I need to know who you sold it to. Does it have barrel grooves or a serial number or something that we could nail down?
Kaminoan: Hell no, since it's never mentioned in the movie.
Obi-Wan: So you have no way of tracking down who you sold that to.
Kaminoan: Dude, we might not have even sold it. He could have stolen it or taken it from the body of someone he killed. We don't even know how recently he came by it. We'd have to go through years and years of sales data.
Obi-Wan: Well, shit. I guess I went through all that for nothing.
Kaminoan: Don't let the sliding door hit you in the ass on the way out.


And just where the HELL does the clone army come from? I'll tell you where. Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas apparently bought an entire army because he FORESAW that the Republic would need it through the Force. Because, you know, the logical solution to troubling premonitions of war is to buy an entire army. Because the Jedi are all about warfare and armies and stuff like that. As Yoda once said, "Wars not make one great. Wars make one BITCHIN' AWESOME!"

And who the hell is Sifo-Dyas? He was an old Jedi buddy of Dooku, which is why Dooku knew about the clones and could set up the whole sequence of events that would lead to the formation of the Grand Army of the Republic. Dooku killed him and incorporated his clone army into his long-term plans. But I've got a few questions:

1. Where did a Jedi come up with the cash for an entire clone army, not to mention weapons, equipment, and starships? He must have gone through a lot of couch cushions to come up with that kind of dough. Dex stresses in his conversation with Obi-Wan that the Kaminoans are a very mercenary lot, so I doubt they're doing it for charity and a tax writeoff.
2. Why didn't Sifo-Dyas tell anyone he was doing this? This isn't the kind of thing you just keep to yourself, is it? "Mace Windu, what are you up to these days?" "Oh, you know, meditating. Keeping the peace. You?" "Nothing, really." "You're not purchasing an entire clone army complete with warships and everything, are you?" "Erm... what makes you think that?" "Hell if I know! I just ask that sometimes for shits and giggles." "Oh... right."
3. And what about this presumed conversation on Kamino: "So, Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, who would you like to use as the basis for your clone army? A Jedi? An honorable soldier from a Jedi-aligned world, perhaps?" "Yeah, maybe something like that. I haven't really thought about it." "Well, if that's the case, we've got another option we thought you might like. How about an amoral bounty hunter who kills for money?" "Shit yeah! Even better. Let's get this assembly line moving!" Of course, it's possible the Kaminoans just came up with using a bounty hunter on their own, but is that really the kind of decision you just delegate to the long-necked weirdos and hope for the best?

Beat. Slam. Uncensored.

It was a good night for poetry, man. It was a damn good night for poetry. I gotta say, it was all killer tonight. Everyone who got up in front of the mike rocked it. That's way too rare these days, when I end up cringing through sets, but everything tonight was tight and together and the energy in the room was like the world's slowest atom bomb wanted to cut loose and have a good time.

A Faith Betrayed

I watched Star Wars Episode 2 again today. In the past, I have defended Lucas because of all the things he's given me, characters and stories that have shaped me and given me great happiness. I have been loyal, and I have suffered and endured patiently. But no loyal servant deserves that. That movie is a travesty against the name of cinema. Not only is the dialogue horrible, the logic is completely incomprehensible. Why is there a secret army no one knew about? Why does Obi-Wan traipse around the galaxy following half-baked clues like a Jedi version of Carmen Sandigo? Whyyyy? Why couldn't they just debate and decide to FORM an army, rather than have to decide whether to USE THE ONE THAT MAGICALLY APPEARS? I believed in you, George. I TRUSTED YOU, GEORGE!

The Most Offensive Ad Ever?

I saw it on rottentomatoes.com, which is a fairly reputable website, and it's advertising a major retail video game, not some Flash crap. But the ad itself... wow. Where do I even start? I'll just let you be appalled for yourself.

And double shame on you if you tried to click it. :o!

A Memory from High School: MUN

I took a Model United Nations class mostly for fun, since it would be an easy grade and I've always been interested in politics. That was around the time I was hitting my version of the senior slump, in which I just started taking classes out of fun and interest rather than a sense of obligation, particularly since I had already taken most of the classes I needed to graduate. For years, the MUN class had been taught by the father of a friend of mine, but that year a woman was teaching it who hadn't taught it before.

The overwhelming impression I have in my memory is of her humorous incompetence. It became fairly clear early on that she didn't understand Robert's Rules of Order or even much of modern politics. Being handy with a piece of news trivia or a well-crafted piece of BS would guarantee you a pass. I also remember that we were given entire class sessions with the nebulous instruction of researching the non-government organizations or countries we were meant to represent. Inevitably, those classes turned into sharing fun links with each other and trying to trick each other into going to whitehouse.com. (It was a pretty infamous porn site at the time; I'm not sure what it is now. Those were the days some people still navigated by typing in the name of what they wanted and adding a .com to it. Yes, there was internet before Google.) I remember that my friend Dima would regularly give the teacher trouble by calling her out on her ignorance, but I was particularly impressed when my friend Steve refused to do something she demanded of us since it was so childish and we were high school students. I don't remember what the task was, but that was the first time I had witnessed open rebellion from an excellent student. (Steve was, and I'm sure continues to be, a whiz in the sciences.) I also remember that, when we were told to make up fictional countries for debate, I created an impoverished country run by a theocratic Christian dictatorship. Someone else created a society dominated by robots, where humans were the slaves. Good times.

The memory that brought about this reminiscing is that, when we were getting on the buses to go to an event in another city, we were supposed to have our suits on, and I forgot. It was early in the morning, before the sun was even up, and the teacher gave me a real tongue-lashing outside the idling bus with most of the students already on board. She at first refused to even let me on the bus. It was a real ego shock for me, a reversal of power that my slip had allowed the teacher the class had until then almost completely undermined, and it stayed with me as an illustration of the way a mistake can give someone else power over me--particularly someone I had until then practically dominated.

Nothing in particular brought about this memory. It's just something I remembered.

Spartacus: Blood and Sand

I thought I would be disappointed in the highly advertised Starz TV show based on the life of Spartacus. I'm certainly not fond of the over-produced, sentimental mess that is the Kirk Douglas movie.

Watching the first episode made me a believer. The world of Spartacus is brutal, dark, and treacherous. After pitched battles with Getae, who are depicted as subhuman barbarians, that are strongly reminiscent of the best stylized violence of 300, the Thracians (of whom Spartacus is the de facto leader) decide it is better to defend their villages than follow Roman orders. The Romans, protesting that this is treason, crush the Thracians, whose village is burned by the Getae.

The first episode was particularly cinematic, with long shots of broad vistas and several creative cross-cuts from scene to scene. The scope is epic and the pacing is brisk (neither of which the show could maintain, but that's the nature of television). I enjoyed the choice of making blood spray behind the action as backdrop rather than as part of the scene, which is both awesomely over the top and stylized. That's not to say the violence isn't intense: limbs are removed and bodies are mangled.

Later episodes, once Spartacus is a gladiator, skimp more on the highly elaborate shots as well as the ultraviolence, but one has to expect that in television. The show also slows down from the sweeping majesty of total war to the day to day brutality of gladiator life; it's not a welcome change, but my disappointment at being hemmed in and hobbled by the change of scope is, I'm sure, something like Spartacus's own frustration at life as a gladiator.

Though the action tames itself somewhat and even the erotic splendor of the first episodes fades to slightly more tasteful (or less tasteless) shots, the show maintains a pacing to keep my appetite whetted like a good blade. Also, by then I had enough attachment to the characters to pull me through.

Though some of the characters are fairly detestable, even some of Spartacus's enemies are fully drawn characters. I was pleasantly surprised that Crixus, the best gladiator in the ludus that also own Spartacus, doesn't just antagonize Spartacus but also struggles to win the heart of a female slave despite his coarseness.

My biggest complaint is Spartacus's recurring visions of his wife. It's getting to the point that it's almost like "Harvey" in Farscape. That's bad.

The swearing and sex are rather too much for my taste, but the action and the surprisingly intricate drama keeps me coming back. I only hope they keep up the promise of the show by continuing to develop the plot rather than focus only on the sex and violence.