Words!
There's a certain point where further procrastination becomes completely infeasible. I call that point "Stacie got it done before I did." Disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful.
Alright, so it's late. Even thought I'm not completely thrilled with the writing quality here, I need to get to bed and I know I'll just start over if I look at this tomorrow. So I'm posting.
Science. Wait, what, science? Oh boy... how do I go about describing science and what it means to me? Science isn't an interest, a profession, or anything of the sort, really. It's a lens through which you view the world, a filter that cuts away at the crap that surrounds us. It strives for the truth about reality in ways that dogma and intuition can only ever fail at. It's a method, not a subject; a method that I have a massive boner for.
I guess I could say that I've been interested in the sciences since I was in elementary school. It started with fascination towards the nine planets of the Solar System (and yes I agree that there are actually only eight. Fuck off, Pluto). I would read my uncle's old magazines that described the planets. I would look at my grandma's atlas that had a picture of the star system. I remember that atlas describing Andromeda as being several hundred thousand light years off image; stupid little me assumed that meant it was "like at the next star, right?"
Junior high came and I took biology. It was actually a fun class, despite everyone else hating the damned class. Then high school showed up and I took chemistry. It too, was a fun class, despite everyone else hating it. At that point, I kind of figured something out. I had discovered science. And I- I thought I was really, really good at it. So college came and went and now I have a damned nice job. In a hellhole, yes, but the job is great.
More importantly than what I've learned in class or the job I work is the way the scientific method has shaped my way of thinking. The method is about many things. It is about skepticism. Nothing is sacred, nothing is holy (and that is why I consider the word "Darwinism" a farce and can only laugh bitterly when creationists use it in "debate"). Skepticism is what allowed me to grow into the man I am now, because I certainly think I am the better man for refusing to believe everything I hear or everything I see. It's about logic, it's about empiricism. If these words had never entered into my mind, where would I be? I say this as nicely as I can -- I would be just another member of my family, content with mediocrity and willfull ignorance.
And that, to me, is what Hell will be like.
Eärendil. I have no idea where he came from. I guess I did RP him for a while on the Site That Shall Not Be Named... but I can handle this. I can come up with at least a paragraph...
Eärendil was blond.
Okay, sorry. I just don't have anything profound to talk about that also happens to at least tangentially Eärendil-related. But hey, if I come up with something I'll be sure to write about it!
Túrin. This is going to strike a lot of you (all two of you that read this!) as unbelievable, but honestly I don't have a lot to say about Túrin at the moment, either. That is not to say that he's been replaced as my favorite character in the drama of Arda -- heaven's no, not by a long shot! It is simply that... I have nothing new to say about him. He gave it his all, but it was not enough to escape the doom appointed to him. A Túrin Turambar turún ambartanen.
But he did have a frakking awesome sword.
Also, I really wish someone would draw him for me.
Manwë. Oh my gods.
It's fair enough to concede that when it comes to the drama of Arda, I tend to look at everything though a very pro-Atani perspective. I very much believe, however, that even if Manwë had treated the Atani like he did the Eldar, I would still despise him. To a lesser extent, perhaps, but what bothers me about Manwë, more than anything, is not what he did but what he represents.
But what did he do? Upon the awakening of the Eldar he loosed his winds to unveil the stars, but he left Men to awaken in the endless rains of that era. He brought the Eldar up out of Endor where Eru had placed them. He released Melkor into Valinor. He ignored the restlessness of the Men of Westernesse, and allowed them to come to ruin.
But worst of all is that he allowed Melkor to escape to Endor, and refused to give chase -- even as Melkor slaughtered the Sindar and the Edain, two peoples who had done no evils, and had only ever walked in defiance of the Morgoth. It was not until Eärendil delivered unto the Circle with a Silmaril that Manwë permitted the Vanyar and Ñoldor to go to war. I jokingly refer to this event as the Eärendil's Bribe, but if this were history and not mythology there would be nothing funny about it.
Tolkien once wrote than Manwë once so absolutely, completely pure that he could not comprehend the act of lying. In doing so, Melkor was unchained and allowed to walk free through Valinor. This, to me, is an abomination; a symbol of the abhorrent dangers posed by ignorance. The High King of Arda is said to have the greatest knowledge about what was seen in the Music (outside Varda), but while he has knowledge he lacks understanding.
He did not understand Eru's design for the Children, and so he had the Eldar brought up out of Endor into Valinor. And while the Eldar prospered in the Kingdom of Manwë, for a time, Arda as a whole suffered for it. He did not understand Melkor's capacity to lie, and so the Dark Lord was loosed in Valinor and from that act arose Elda raising sword against Elda. Kings were slain, trees withered, and the light of the world lessened.
He did not understand the fear in the hearts of Men, of the restlessness that is a fundamental aspect of their fëar, or their drive for something greater. From this came the grand armada of Ar-Pharazôn that would have brought ruin even to Valinor, and the end of the greatest and fairest country to have ever graced Ambar.
That Manwë was seen fit by Eru to lead the Circle of Doom is, to me, a sign that Eru is either woefully ignorant as to the nature of the reality that He created, or downright malicious towards it. Melkor caused pain and suffering through malice. Manwë caused pain and suffering through ignorance. Normally, I'd see the former as being worse than the latter, but then, Manwë had all the time in Creation to go out and read a book, maybe learn a thing or two. In a certain sense, I see Manwë and Melkor as being two sides of the same coin.
In the end, I hate Manwë not for what he did to Men, but for what he did to Arda.
Gaeta. The particularly astute amongst you may have noticed that I quoted Felix in this journal entry already. The insanely astute may have noticed that I switched Manwë and Gaeta in the list order that Mari gave me.
The Oath and Blood on the Scales were, in my opinion, two of the best episodes in one of the best television shows ever, if also the most painful. Even Revelations was easier to handle than Blood on the Scales was. Throughout the mutiny arc, I found myself unable to sit down and actually enjoy myself. I feared the climax -- literally feared. I was afraid for Felix like I have never been afraid for a fictional character before.
I'm usually the kind of person who discusses what has happened and how it will impact what will happen. A few of you who I was talking to regularly at the time of the mutiny arc will remember quite clearly what I thought of the Tom and Felix's rebellion, and what I wanted to happen to Roslin and Adama. But I don't talk enough about what these events mean to me. I'm not good at discussing emotion... but I think this time around I'll forego discussing chronology and talk feeling.
Felix has been my on-again off-again favorite character since season one. My favorite when he was playing a role in the story, and then temporarily pushed aside when he similarly took a backseat to other characters. But I bonded with Felix early because, for many reasons, he was the entity that most closely represented myself in the story. If I were a survivor aboard Galactica, I reasoned, I would most closely resemble Felix Gaeta.
Let's get the obvious one out of the way. Gay. Felix is gay, and although it wasn't confirmed until Face of the Enemy it's one of those things that you can pick up on as early as season one if you know what you're looking for. Felix's thrill at being able to work with the famous Dr. Baltar seems, at first, to be professional respect. But Felix's interactions with Gaius have always been had an underscore of adoration and, to a limited extent, lust, that I got a kick out of. But, more importantly than that, it gave me someone to identify with -- because whether I like it or not, it's so much more satisfying for me to watch the guy get the guy than it is to watch him get the girl.
Felix discovered science, and he thought he was really, really good at it. Until he met Gaius, of course. The timing of Blood on the Scales and that line was terrible for me. I had just started my internship down in San Antonio at Dr. Cole's lab; a lab where everyone else had years more experience than I had. I felt like a complete idiot those first few weeks. In fact, even now that I'm a full time employee in the lab I still feel stupid at times. Beyond that, my Program Director back at Stout had called me the night I accepted the internship offer and quite clearly told me not to fuck it up and ruin Stout's reputation. Dr. Cole is a relatively well known mycologist and UTSA a pretty decent school for research. What if I frakked up?
What if I wasn't as good at this stuff as I thought I was? Had I met my Dr. Baltar? I hope not.
Next thing we see is Felix in the airlock, facing his executioners. It's plain from his expression (and Tom's) that, despite everything, he was telling the truth when he spoke with Gaius. He is, truly, okay with how it's all worked out. Even if it wasn't enough, he gave it his all. He can rest now. It's stopped. His only fear is that, ultimately, nobody understood him. Nobody truly knew who Felix Gaeta was.
You can see in Gaius's eyes the guilt at knowing that he has caused Felix so much pain in the past four years. But Gaius knows who Felix is. Finally, even if too late, he understands him, and he will remember him. Because even if he was a minor player in the fight for survival, he is still worthy of remembrance.
Am I understood? Do people know Michael Bellecourt? Have I met my Dr. Baltar? I hope so.
Bear McCreary recently wrote in his blog that it wasn't Lt. Hoshi that deserved the promotion to admiral in Daybreak -- it was Felix.
A major theme throughout the series is that it is not enough to survive. You have to be worthy of survival. I see Daybreak as the logical conclusion to this theme, which is maybe one of the reasons that I actually liked the ending to Battlestar Galactica. Everyone may be happy on Earth II, but it doesn't change the fact that Colonial society did not survive. It was not worthy of survival. But it seems to me that many of the people who did deserve to survive did not. Their bodies were left to the stars, while the drunks and the despots and cheaters went on to Paradise.
Alright, that's all he wrote.
Alright, so it's late. Even thought I'm not completely thrilled with the writing quality here, I need to get to bed and I know I'll just start over if I look at this tomorrow. So I'm posting.
Science. Wait, what, science? Oh boy... how do I go about describing science and what it means to me? Science isn't an interest, a profession, or anything of the sort, really. It's a lens through which you view the world, a filter that cuts away at the crap that surrounds us. It strives for the truth about reality in ways that dogma and intuition can only ever fail at. It's a method, not a subject; a method that I have a massive boner for.
I guess I could say that I've been interested in the sciences since I was in elementary school. It started with fascination towards the nine planets of the Solar System (and yes I agree that there are actually only eight. Fuck off, Pluto). I would read my uncle's old magazines that described the planets. I would look at my grandma's atlas that had a picture of the star system. I remember that atlas describing Andromeda as being several hundred thousand light years off image; stupid little me assumed that meant it was "like at the next star, right?"
Junior high came and I took biology. It was actually a fun class, despite everyone else hating the damned class. Then high school showed up and I took chemistry. It too, was a fun class, despite everyone else hating it. At that point, I kind of figured something out. I had discovered science. And I- I thought I was really, really good at it. So college came and went and now I have a damned nice job. In a hellhole, yes, but the job is great.
More importantly than what I've learned in class or the job I work is the way the scientific method has shaped my way of thinking. The method is about many things. It is about skepticism. Nothing is sacred, nothing is holy (and that is why I consider the word "Darwinism" a farce and can only laugh bitterly when creationists use it in "debate"). Skepticism is what allowed me to grow into the man I am now, because I certainly think I am the better man for refusing to believe everything I hear or everything I see. It's about logic, it's about empiricism. If these words had never entered into my mind, where would I be? I say this as nicely as I can -- I would be just another member of my family, content with mediocrity and willfull ignorance.
And that, to me, is what Hell will be like.
Eärendil. I have no idea where he came from. I guess I did RP him for a while on the Site That Shall Not Be Named... but I can handle this. I can come up with at least a paragraph...
Eärendil was blond.
Okay, sorry. I just don't have anything profound to talk about that also happens to at least tangentially Eärendil-related. But hey, if I come up with something I'll be sure to write about it!
Túrin. This is going to strike a lot of you (all two of you that read this!) as unbelievable, but honestly I don't have a lot to say about Túrin at the moment, either. That is not to say that he's been replaced as my favorite character in the drama of Arda -- heaven's no, not by a long shot! It is simply that... I have nothing new to say about him. He gave it his all, but it was not enough to escape the doom appointed to him. A Túrin Turambar turún ambartanen.
But he did have a frakking awesome sword.
Also, I really wish someone would draw him for me.
Manwë. Oh my gods.
It's fair enough to concede that when it comes to the drama of Arda, I tend to look at everything though a very pro-Atani perspective. I very much believe, however, that even if Manwë had treated the Atani like he did the Eldar, I would still despise him. To a lesser extent, perhaps, but what bothers me about Manwë, more than anything, is not what he did but what he represents.
But what did he do? Upon the awakening of the Eldar he loosed his winds to unveil the stars, but he left Men to awaken in the endless rains of that era. He brought the Eldar up out of Endor where Eru had placed them. He released Melkor into Valinor. He ignored the restlessness of the Men of Westernesse, and allowed them to come to ruin.
But worst of all is that he allowed Melkor to escape to Endor, and refused to give chase -- even as Melkor slaughtered the Sindar and the Edain, two peoples who had done no evils, and had only ever walked in defiance of the Morgoth. It was not until Eärendil delivered unto the Circle with a Silmaril that Manwë permitted the Vanyar and Ñoldor to go to war. I jokingly refer to this event as the Eärendil's Bribe, but if this were history and not mythology there would be nothing funny about it.
Tolkien once wrote than Manwë once so absolutely, completely pure that he could not comprehend the act of lying. In doing so, Melkor was unchained and allowed to walk free through Valinor. This, to me, is an abomination; a symbol of the abhorrent dangers posed by ignorance. The High King of Arda is said to have the greatest knowledge about what was seen in the Music (outside Varda), but while he has knowledge he lacks understanding.
He did not understand Eru's design for the Children, and so he had the Eldar brought up out of Endor into Valinor. And while the Eldar prospered in the Kingdom of Manwë, for a time, Arda as a whole suffered for it. He did not understand Melkor's capacity to lie, and so the Dark Lord was loosed in Valinor and from that act arose Elda raising sword against Elda. Kings were slain, trees withered, and the light of the world lessened.
He did not understand the fear in the hearts of Men, of the restlessness that is a fundamental aspect of their fëar, or their drive for something greater. From this came the grand armada of Ar-Pharazôn that would have brought ruin even to Valinor, and the end of the greatest and fairest country to have ever graced Ambar.
That Manwë was seen fit by Eru to lead the Circle of Doom is, to me, a sign that Eru is either woefully ignorant as to the nature of the reality that He created, or downright malicious towards it. Melkor caused pain and suffering through malice. Manwë caused pain and suffering through ignorance. Normally, I'd see the former as being worse than the latter, but then, Manwë had all the time in Creation to go out and read a book, maybe learn a thing or two. In a certain sense, I see Manwë and Melkor as being two sides of the same coin.
In the end, I hate Manwë not for what he did to Men, but for what he did to Arda.
Gaeta. The particularly astute amongst you may have noticed that I quoted Felix in this journal entry already. The insanely astute may have noticed that I switched Manwë and Gaeta in the list order that Mari gave me.
The Oath and Blood on the Scales were, in my opinion, two of the best episodes in one of the best television shows ever, if also the most painful. Even Revelations was easier to handle than Blood on the Scales was. Throughout the mutiny arc, I found myself unable to sit down and actually enjoy myself. I feared the climax -- literally feared. I was afraid for Felix like I have never been afraid for a fictional character before.
I'm usually the kind of person who discusses what has happened and how it will impact what will happen. A few of you who I was talking to regularly at the time of the mutiny arc will remember quite clearly what I thought of the Tom and Felix's rebellion, and what I wanted to happen to Roslin and Adama. But I don't talk enough about what these events mean to me. I'm not good at discussing emotion... but I think this time around I'll forego discussing chronology and talk feeling.
Felix has been my on-again off-again favorite character since season one. My favorite when he was playing a role in the story, and then temporarily pushed aside when he similarly took a backseat to other characters. But I bonded with Felix early because, for many reasons, he was the entity that most closely represented myself in the story. If I were a survivor aboard Galactica, I reasoned, I would most closely resemble Felix Gaeta.
Let's get the obvious one out of the way. Gay. Felix is gay, and although it wasn't confirmed until Face of the Enemy it's one of those things that you can pick up on as early as season one if you know what you're looking for. Felix's thrill at being able to work with the famous Dr. Baltar seems, at first, to be professional respect. But Felix's interactions with Gaius have always been had an underscore of adoration and, to a limited extent, lust, that I got a kick out of. But, more importantly than that, it gave me someone to identify with -- because whether I like it or not, it's so much more satisfying for me to watch the guy get the guy than it is to watch him get the girl.
Felix discovered science, and he thought he was really, really good at it. Until he met Gaius, of course. The timing of Blood on the Scales and that line was terrible for me. I had just started my internship down in San Antonio at Dr. Cole's lab; a lab where everyone else had years more experience than I had. I felt like a complete idiot those first few weeks. In fact, even now that I'm a full time employee in the lab I still feel stupid at times. Beyond that, my Program Director back at Stout had called me the night I accepted the internship offer and quite clearly told me not to fuck it up and ruin Stout's reputation. Dr. Cole is a relatively well known mycologist and UTSA a pretty decent school for research. What if I frakked up?
What if I wasn't as good at this stuff as I thought I was? Had I met my Dr. Baltar? I hope not.
Next thing we see is Felix in the airlock, facing his executioners. It's plain from his expression (and Tom's) that, despite everything, he was telling the truth when he spoke with Gaius. He is, truly, okay with how it's all worked out. Even if it wasn't enough, he gave it his all. He can rest now. It's stopped. His only fear is that, ultimately, nobody understood him. Nobody truly knew who Felix Gaeta was.
You can see in Gaius's eyes the guilt at knowing that he has caused Felix so much pain in the past four years. But Gaius knows who Felix is. Finally, even if too late, he understands him, and he will remember him. Because even if he was a minor player in the fight for survival, he is still worthy of remembrance.
Am I understood? Do people know Michael Bellecourt? Have I met my Dr. Baltar? I hope so.
Bear McCreary recently wrote in his blog that it wasn't Lt. Hoshi that deserved the promotion to admiral in Daybreak -- it was Felix.
A major theme throughout the series is that it is not enough to survive. You have to be worthy of survival. I see Daybreak as the logical conclusion to this theme, which is maybe one of the reasons that I actually liked the ending to Battlestar Galactica. Everyone may be happy on Earth II, but it doesn't change the fact that Colonial society did not survive. It was not worthy of survival. But it seems to me that many of the people who did deserve to survive did not. Their bodies were left to the stars, while the drunks and the despots and cheaters went on to Paradise.
Alright, that's all he wrote.