If it’s not on facebook it didn’t really happen: or, reality through technology

I watched the first episode of The Wire today.  So far it comes across as one more (exceptionally complicated) cop show.  I was struck, however, by the repeatedly interspersed shots of the action as seen through surveillance technology.  An illustrative example is when two of the cop/detective types (can’t quite keep up with the names yet) step into the elevator together.  As they enter and exit the elevator, the shot is a fairly standard medium-distance color shot–what the tv/film viewer is used to accepting as an unmediated look into the storyworld.  As the elevator ascends, however, the shot shifts to grainy black and white taken from above, as from a security camera.  Nothing whatsoever happens in the elevator–no activity, no conversation, nothing.  The only point of the shot is to remind the viewer that everyone is always being watched, that technology is constantly absorbing and fixing reality for later review and analysis.  What actually happens is ephemera; it’s what the camera captures that is reality.

This sinister reminder of the ubiquitous eye of technology is made (to me) even more disturbing in Paul Murry’s Skippy Dies. This novel seems to suggest that the mediation of reality through technology is not just an unnerving reality, but in fact the contemporary individual’s preferred method of dealing with life.  One scene that sticks in my mind is when history teacher Howard Fallon is having a strained conversation with his girlfriend, a technology writer.  He is playing with an image-enhancing digital camera about which she is writing a piece, and as he looks at her through its gold-toned screen all the tensions of their relationship fall away and he finds it easier to talk to her.  Of course, it doesn’t last–their conversation devolves into argument–but for a few moments, through the screen of the camera, he is able to see the beauty and good in the woman with whom he’s been sharing his life.

In all honesty and hopefully without sounding like an old fogey or a Luddite, I have to admit that this deeply worries me.  It worries me because I see it in myself.  I am much fonder of my online presence–aka the facebook me–than my actual self.  The allure of the online presence is control; facebook Kate is both wittier and prettier than the real thing, due to my ability to carefully think out her words and censor her images.  The thoughtless stupidisms and double chins are largely filtered out in advance, and my “about me” suggests that I spend all my time reading and painting and frolicking outdoors, passing completely over the stretches of time I spend lying on my bed staring at the ceiling or engaged in other unflattering occupations.  It’s uncomfortable to realize that one’s better half is a construct, an electronic projection of the rosier bits of oneself.  It seems wrong to prefer the image of sterilized reality filtered through the camera/internet/phone to raw, messy, uncontrolled, real reality–wrong, but uncomfortably like the truth.

Yes, I’m worried.  Of course, I could talk out the worries with an actual human being, but…I think I’ll just blog about it.

God and Angel

Angel certainly took a turn for the interesting at the end of season 4.  The force that has been controlling Cordelia gives birth to a physical manifestation of itself, a beautiful goddess-made-flesh named Jasmine.  Jasmine’s rhetoric–“my love is all around you,” “love one another,” etc–screams New Testament, and the divinely-influenced conception along with worship of Cordelia as  the holy mother add weight to the argument for interpreting these end-of-the-season episodes as commentary on religion.

The part I find particularly interesting is that Jasmine herself seems neither good nor evil.  She genuinely wants people to be happy, yet does so by stripping them of their free will (and eating some of them…but that’s beside the point).  It is the horrible things done in her name and the intolerance of free-thought and alternative opinion that make her a villain.  Those who come to understand that the happiness Jasmine makes them feel comes at the price of their free-will are not only ostracized, but hunted down like animals, even by their closest friends.  In the same way, there’s nothing inherently wrong with religion–especially a religion that preaches love–but there is something very wrong when that love turns to intolerance, hatred, and violence against those with differing points of view.

After discovering Jasmine’s true nature, Angel and company struggle with feelings of loss and loneliness.  While under Jasmine’s thrall, they felt at peace, safe, and part of something bigger than themselves, but all that is gone when they find themselves in control of their own minds once again.  The question is, does the warmth make it worthwhile to live a lie?  It’s a question I’ve struggled with myself.  Religion is comforting, and has always been a part of my life.  The ritual of mass, the songs, the safety, the sense that you don’t have to be in control and that God can wipe away your mistakes was liberating.  I always assumed that I’d be married in a church, baptize my children, and send my daughter to receive her First Communion in a frilly white satin dress (with a veil…man, was I bitter about not having a veil!).  But I thought too much, and reading, learning, thinking, and talking led me to the conclusion that it was one big, warm, fuzzy lie.  And, worse, a lie that more often than not leads to hatred rather than love.  And I couldn’t live like I hadn’t noticed, so now when I go back to church with my family on holidays I feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, standing among the faithful and seeing with open eyes.  I would never tell them that they’re blind, or misguided, or what have you, because I envy them the comfort of faith.  Logic is real, but it’s cold.

I’ve already thought too much for comfort, so I like a show that makes me think.

 

True Life: I have horrible taste in TV

Confession: I have the worst taste in television ever.  Any trashy, worthless, predictable, superficial, inane show you can think of, and I’ve probably seen it.  In fact, I’ve probably seen it more than once.  I probably know some of the characters’ names.  I probably enjoyed it.  Speculative History Channel shows about religion or medieval history are probably my least embembarrassing television preference, followed closely by Food Network.  From there, I go downhill fast, starting with What Not to Wear and America’s Next Top Model, proceeding downward to 18 Kids and Counting, Say Yes to the Dress, and I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant, and ending in the abyss of Toddlers & Tiaras and everything on MTV and VH1.  If someone were to judge me just by the shows I watch on television…I shudder.

You’d think, wouldn’t you, that I’d have better things to do with my time.  You’d think that even if I didn’t want to work on classwork or applications to grad school or art or something like that, at least I’d want to curl up with a good book or hang out with friends.  Granted, I rarely watch these shows without other occupation–washing dishes, eating lunch, doing homework for classes I don’t care about, etc.  But still…you’d think that there’d be so many things more important than watching Wife Swap or Tool Academy or MTV’s Top 100 Dumb Celebrity Quotes that I’d never find the time to watch such utter rubbish.

Somehow, I find the time.  I think it’s possible that the appeal of these shows lies in their very triviality.  Superficial inanity is not what I want to project in class, around my friends, or in life in general.  It’s actually the exact opposite of what I want to be as a person.  So maybe the reason it feels so good to let my pulpified brain run out my ears in front of these shows is that its sort of a relief to give in to superficiality and overstated drama for a few moments.  That sounds better than saying that I just like to criticize people with poor fashion sense, obnoxious habits, or too many children (although I strongly suspect that this is true as well).  So go ahead and judge me if you will, but remember that at least I’m under no impression that these shows have any merit.  I fully accept that they are trashy pieces of filth.  So there’s hope–acceptance, after all, is the first step to recovery.

Another unnecessary distraction–“Angel”

The first season of Angel (spin-off of my beloved Buffy) is on Hulu.  As if I needed another way to waste time that I ought to be using for homework, grad school applications, or at least leisure reading.  However, maybe I will watch Angel instead of Wife Swap, which I feel would be a significant step towards respectability on the “unproductive ways to spend free time” hierarchy.  I don’t even really like Angel.  I mean, sure, I was all broken up when he left Buffy, but only because I had invested my emotions in their relationship.  Angel himself is kind of emo and whiny and, although being very pretty makes up for many foibles, his awareness of his own excessive badassery walks a delicate line between bearable and otherwise.  No, the real attraction of the show is that it exists within the same world as good old Willow, Xander, Giles, and of course, Spike.  Seeing as there is no more Buffy, I suppose I’ll settle for passing references and cameo appearances from the gang and focus more attention on Angel’s physique than his personality.