An Icy Challenge

Cap took the challenge to a bit of an extreme.

Last week, I was challenged by my dear friend Shawn to the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, the craze that has been sweeping the Intra-Webs for a solid six weeks. For any of my readers not living on planet Earth, the Ice Bucket Challenge is where you video record yourself dumping a bucket of ice and water over your own head. You then nominate friends and family to do the same. They have 24 hours, or they have to donate to the ALS Foundation, (For anyone curious enough to ask, I donated,) which in my opinion is the curious part of this whole damned thing. I don't quite understand why anyone would dump freezing water over their heads to get out of donating to a worthy cause.

Now I don't want to come off as a "hater," (That's a technical term here.) I can't discount the good that the Ice Bucket Challenge has done to raise awareness of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, or all the money it has raised. In fact between July 19th and August 18th, the foundation has reported receiving $15.6 million. That's no small sum of money for an organization that usually only nets a few million in a year. Yet throughout this whole thing  have found myself feeling conflicted.

For as much good as this Internet craze has accomplished, I find myself questioning a society where it seems that the only time we can accomplish anything worthwhile is through the use of an elaborate selfie. Why is it that we need to advertise our good deeds on Facebook, Twitter, (or on a blog.) The Internet and social media is a powerful tool, but it isn't the only tool we have at our disposals, nor does it give us license to celebrate our good deeds for the world to see. If the only reason you accomplish something good is so that it can be "retweeted" or "shared" than it's probably time to wonder if you are performing a good deed at all, or are you just looking for digital accolades.

Perhaps that sounds harsh, and I can see why it might, but I have always believed that the greatest deeds were the ones performed in the dark. You do something because it is the right thing to do, not because you are looking for recognition or a reward. Yet, in today's social media culture such quiet moments of solitary heroics are becoming rarer and rarer. When everything from your lunch to your workout schedule is being posted, perhaps it is unreasonable for me to assume that people would not post updates about how they helped that old woman across the street or gave a sandwich to that homeless man on the corner. Then we can all give it a thumbs up, and tell that person "Ur G8T," or "Way 2 Go," or "Ur the the most selfless person I know."

Accept the praise and the cheers when you deserve it, when you have accomplished something truly remarkable, but not for the good deeds you do. Those, by definition, should be unremarkable. We should all want to live in a world where donating money, helping a worthy cause, volunteering, etc, goes wholly unnoticed, because of how commonplace they are. The Ice Bucket Challenge is not as bad as all that. It is fun, and it lets the more creative among us really show off our flare and individuality. Maybe the ends do justify the means on this one, but, in my opinion, in a world where so much of what we do is constantly being recorded, labeled, tagged, and uploaded, it makes those quiet moments of small heroics all the more important.

It's chilly when you step down off that soap box.

Hooked on a Feeling

(I know this review is a little late, but a lot has been happening the past week, and I felt obligated to bump it due to the lose that we all recently suffered.)

For anyone who has not seen Guardians of the Galaxy yet, I say, "What!?!" But I know what you're thinking Mrs. Rhetorical Device I Am Using To Make A Point, ("I Am Using" was her maiden name,) "Its just another Marvel movie. I'm not in the mood for superheroes."

First off, you used "Its" improperly. You used the possessive form, meaning "of it." You should have used the contraction "it's" meaning "it is." Secondly: No. Guardians is more than just some superhero movie. It's a space opera in the vein of the original (i.e. the good) Star Wars. Sure it takes place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe but the Guardians of the Galaxy are as much like the Avengers as the Three Stooges are like the Three Tenors, and that is the genius of Marvel.

Marvel Studios has a winning formula. A) Take a recognizable comic book hero (Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, etc) and translate them semi-faithfully to the big screen. B) Slap a Marvel logo on it. C) Put a stinger after the credits that (may or may not) star Samuel L. Jackson. D) Rake in billions of dollars. E) Repeat ad infinitum.

Except they didn't follow Step E. Instead of playing it safe and giving us another predictable superhero story, (and don't get me wrong I love predictable superhero stories. After all, I own Daredevil on DVD,) Marvel took a risk. When Guardians of the Galaxy was announced even hardcore comic fans went, "huh?" and then immediately went to Wikipedia to read up on the who the heck they were so that they could answer the inevitable questions of their normie friends. Marvel could have given us Thor 3, or Black Panther, (which I am still hoping for,) or even Robert Downey Jr. Eats a Sandwich, and they would have made billions of dollars (see formula above,) but they didn't. They took a risk and for that I love them even more.

When most movie studios would just try to ride the high of their success until it inevitably crashed them onto the rocks of repetition, Marvel has realized something that other, more well establish, movie studios can't seem to get, "Keep it Fresh." There is this trend in Hollywood, where if one movie makes a lot of money, everyone should hurry up to make the exact same kind of movie and get there piece of the pie. They did it with Asteroids and Asteroids, the White House and the White House, and now even Hercules and Hercules, and most of those aren't even good films. More broadly they overdo genres until audiences are sick of them, disaster films, horror films, and whatever the hell Michael Bay decides to slap his name on. Transformers made 709.7 billion dollars, so let's make a GI Joe movie, and then a Ninja Turtles movie. For instance, (I'm not making this one up,) since the Lego Movie, scored it big at the box office, a Hot Wheels movie has now been fast tracked by Warner Bros. as well as movies that will be based on Ouija, Candyland, Monoply, Tonka Trucks, and even Peeps (yes those yellow disgusting Easter candies.)

What Hollywood doesn't get is that the Lego Movie made money, not because it was based solely on a beloved and timeless childhood toy, but because it was actually a good movie. It was witty, charming, funny, and it didn't take itself too seriously. Movie executives only see dollar signs, and by slapping a familiar look or brand name on a movie they know that they can make a quick couple of bucks, quality be damned, which is what makes Guardians of the Galaxy all the more impressive. In this atmosphere of repetition and death, Marvel has the ultimate brand name recognition at their fingertips, and instead they choose to go with a little known comic title and take a risk on a director whose credits include Scooby Doo, and Scooby Doo 2: Monster Island.

I like my ladies how I like my coffee... TARDIS blue

They let director James Gunn work his vision and his script and what we got was movie gold. Sure there were some small plot holes, but then you see a bald and blue Karen Gillian and for some reason the world seems right. I applaud Marvel for taking this risk. When other studios would be running out of ideas, they seem to just be getting started. Even Captain America: Winter Soldier (which was a guaranteed money maker) took some unusual risks, as the story read more like an espionage movie than a straight-up "save the world," superhero movie. It also seemed that the upcoming Ant-Man movie was originally very much going to be in this new genre bending trend, with it being billed as a superhero/heist movie, but with the departure of Edgar Wright I am taking a "wait and see" attitude.

Hopefully, this all means that Marvel is just getting started with what's to come. They are the studio that practically legitimized the superhero movie genre (before them it was just a fad.) Everything they have done has been copied by other studios, stingers, shared universes, etc. They could have sat back and just made a few more mediocre movies and trusted their name to make the money, but instead they took a risk, went out on a comic limb, and showed us what the future of comic movies could be. For that and so much more I love them. (Maybe DC can learn a lesson from their playbook.) With any luck the wit-and-styled feel of Guardians will be one thing that other superhero movies copy. It's time to start playing with the genre in fun and interesting ways, but all of that is for the future. Right now, I want to live in the present and go see Guardians of the Galaxy again. (And so should you.)

RIP

What do you say about a man that was so beloved by the world that all the best and most important things to say have already been said by all the beat and most important people? I never met Robin Williams, though I would have jumped at the chance, yet I feel like he is a part of me. My formative years came in the 90’s, and throughout that decade it seemed like Williams was there to be my friend and to teach me lessons and make me laugh. Whether he was dressed in drag, voicing an animated genie, running away from elephants stampeding out of a game board, remembering what it was like to be Peter Pan, or playing one of the numerous other roles that still brings a smile to my face, he was there. He was there too as a doctor, a teacher, an angel, a wise mentor. He was always there, and as a child growing up sometimes lonely, sometimes sad, sometimes the outcast, sometimes angry and foolish (as only a child can be), it was like he was there just for me. He was there to make me feel better, to tell me it was going to be okay, or that no matter how old you got you didn’t have to grow up all the way. 

The man was a genius, and by all accounts, the most sincere and wonderful soul you could ever meet. I have read story upon story from people who both knew him and only met him once, and each rings true of a man with a kind and genuine heart. He made others laugh, even if he was hurting inside. He, time and time again, took on the burden of making the world smile, carrying the morality of others on his shoulders, as one co-star wrote, even if it sometimes crushed him. My only wish is that I hope he knew how special he was to the world. I hope he knew how many lives he had touched. It is a rare gift to be able to make the world a better place, as he did, not with violence or power but with laughter and a joke. He was a comedian, an actor, a fellow gamer and nerd, a friend, an inspiration, and a father. 

 My heart and prayers go out to his children and his family. I cannot begin to fathom their pain, but they should take comfort in the fact that they do not mourn alone. The world seems grayer, and as I sit looking out on a rainy New York day, I can’t help but feel that even the heavens are weeping at the loss of such a man. Everyone, and I mean everyone, feels as if they have lost someone near and dear to them this week, and maybe that was the true power of Robin Williams. He wasn’t just some big time celebrity, he was more than that. He touched people on a more personal level. It didn't matter if he was playing to a room of a thousand or just one. He strove to make you feel as if he was talking just for you, joking just for you, smiling just for you. 

I will miss him, and I will be forever grateful for all those wonderful characters and moments of laughter and love he gave to a small lonely boy. 

Robin Williams 1951-2014
"Rest in Penis"

Because Japan...

Is this a toilet or the captain's chair
on the bridge of the Enterprise?

Whenever I travel to a new place, it always takes me a week or two, after returning, to feel like I have fully digested the experience enough to give people a full impression. (Except for, when you live in a place for a year.) Japan is certainly one of those places, and yet in a lot of ways it also defies my attempts to define it. It is a strange, yet inviting land, that embodies a lot of contradictions. The most common question I have gotten since returning to the States is, "So how was Japan?" Unfortunately, I never quite know how to answer that statement. I usually mutter something like "It was good, or it was interesting." A generic answer for a generic question, but it's more than that. Everyone already has their own ideas on what Japan is and isn't. (You know what I mean. In fact you're thinking it right now.) They have this misconception that it is a country full of robots and panty-vending machines, where the weird gets weirder, and the weirder get downright crazy. Those aren't really true, and yet they're not really false either.

For instance, the country is fascinated with technology, yet we could not find a single ATM that took American bank cards, and more than a few places that wouldn't take credit cards at all. Yet, the best story I can give to illustrate this point is when my friend (and traveling companion) Doug and I went to check into one of those capsule hotels. First off, the very idea of sleeping in an enclosed bubble-like capsule for the night is very appropriate for the country. It encompasses that right mixture of strangeness and brilliant practicality that rings true in many places of Tokyo. All you need is to throw in a dash of adherence to traditional customs and you got yourself a perfectly baked Japanese cupcake. Sure enough, this place delivered that with sprinkles on top. After lugging our baggage through two trains and eight city blocks, we arrived at the hotel which was located on the twelfth floor of a very tall building. (There are a lot of very tall buildings in Tokyo.) It was at about floor nine that Doug noticed a sign written in English that said "Guests are not permitted to own tattoos."

He pointed it out to me and we had a moment where we both dumbly stared at my leg, emblazoned in black ink with a stylish Captain America shield. "Adam, cover your leg."

Apparently Karaoke is a large problem in public parks.

I dutifully slapped my giant suitcase over my leg, hiding the offensive ink, and wondering why I suddenly didn't decide to wear long pants in the 90 degree heat of the city. The doors opened up and we hobbled our way into the main lobby, with me walking awkwardly in an attempt to keep my suitcase between us and the reception desk. Of course, that task proved much more difficult than first believed. Upon entering the hotel we were expected to remove our shoes, and then stow them in lockers about ten feet away. We weren't made aware of this until we had already stumbled about halfway to the reception desk. We were then forced to stumble backward to the elevator. Take off our shoes there, and then make another awkward march to the lockers, all the while I had to keep my 25 pound bag pinned firmly to my right leg. With that feat accomplished we finally made our way to the reception desk.

As we began the check-in process all around us men walked around in towels (and some without them.) The place held the heavy humidity of a spa or sauna, and the heavy decorum of a 1950's rent-by-the-hour motel. Finally, the woman behind the desk, (the only woman in the place,) spoke rapidly in Japanese to another man who came over and apologized several times before telling us that we couldn't stay there. "You're friend has tattoo," he said to Doug. "I am so sorry. This is Japan custom." 

After some argument amongst ourselves, where Doug refused to stay in the hotel without me, we both made our way back toward the elevator, but first we had to stop to get our shoes. I fumbled with the key in the locker and walked my shoes back toward the elevator and put them back on only to realize I still had the locker key in my hand. I then walked back toward the lockers, only to be yelled out that I still had my shoes on. So I walked back to the elevator, took my shoes off, walked back to the lockers, returned the key to the appropriate spot, walked back to the elevator, and then put my shoes on again. All the while, I still kept the suitcase pressed against my leg, as if I was suddenly ashamed of my tattoo, but Japan has that effect on people.

It has this way of making you feel like you are doing something wrong. Everyone in the city of Tokyo, dresses in formal greys, blacks, and whites. Even the cars came in only two colors, black and white. My companion and I were the only two people in bright colored shirts, as if to further mark us as "foreign." I've been in countries where I have been the only white person, the only English speaker, and even the only one taller than six feet, but I have never felt as out of place as I did sometimes in Japan. It was like everything I did sent up a flare declaring how worthy I was of a disapproving head shake from the locals. As an American Nerd I like to wear my differences proudly, but this felt different somehow, and for the rest of the trip I found myself contemplating long pants. We did discover later that tattoos in Japan usually mark people as members of the Yukuza, the Japanese Mafia, and that is one of the reasons why they were so restricted, which brings me to my next point.

I am not Yukuza, and I am pretty sure that guy at the reception desk knew that. He couldn't make an exception, even though it was a pretty safe bet that the six foot, two inch white guy with the Captain America tattoo was not part of the local crime gang, because in Japan rules are made to be followed. People wait at the cross walks until the lights tell them they can walk. They obey every rule, every custom, and don't risk doing anything that let's them stick out. I often compare Tokyo to New York, but I would not compare New Yorkers to Tokyoians.

Truly this is a land of plenty.

However, no generalization is completely true. Japan has their outcasts, their otaku, who wear crazy colors, get piercings and tattoos, and sometimes dress as outlandishly as they can. In fact one of my favorite nights was our visit to Akihabara, or Electric Town. It is the section of Tokyo set aside for geeks like us. There is a five-story video arcade on every corner, and the place is bursting with manga, anime, and video games. This was the one section of the city where everyone seemed to be dressed in colors, and where conformity mattered less than having fun. We even went to a multi-story store dedicated entirely to Nintendo, where each floor was reserved for a different generation of the console. (NES on the bottom, and Wii/GameCube at the top.) Akihabara was like Las Vegas for nerds. It even had women in stereotypical anime costumes handing out business promotions to men as they passed by. (Doug and I argued over what type of businesses they were selling, and the only English on the flyer I grabbed read "Forest of Dreams," which didn't help to settle what sort of establishment they were working for, but is par for the course in Japan.)

Even though I did not come across one used-panty vending machine (And there were a lot of vending machines,) there is an under current of fetishism to the outwardly respectful culture. In fact, the capsule hotel was a men-only establishment, because there seems to be a fear that drunk businessmen cannot handle being around women, so it is better to segregate them. I will admit that I did get a creepy uncle vibe while we stood there pleading our case as to why we should not be thrown out. Even our hostel had a strict curfew of midnight, and two separate wings, one set aside for men and the other for women. However, it's not like Japan is the only country with its perversions. The US has plenty of our own, and in some ways, we objectify women just as much as they do. (I'm looking at you Hooters.)

Located conveniently right next to the Voltron Bed & Breakfast

I also don't want to end this post by giving anyone a bad impression. I had an amazing time in Tokyo. We walked all over the city. We saw beautiful gardens and shrines. We walked through the Imperial Palace, we visited the craziness of the Tsukiji Fish Market. We visited a war museum and saw hand-crafted Samurai armor and swords, and even read fascinating personal accounts from kamikaze pilots. We ate breakfast watching one of the busiest crosswalks in the world, and we had some of the best seafood and freshest sushi that I have ever eaten in my life. And through it all, whenever we were lost, the people were never too busy to help point us in the right direction or to stop and see if we needed help. Because that is also part of the nature of the Japanese people. They are genuinely good, honest, respectful, and helpful people. I think we forget that sometimes. 

In the West we often like to paint Japan as weird, but the majority are not. They are just people, like you and me, who work, raise their families, struggle to find their place in our crazy world, and just want to be happy. When we hear the strange news and crazy things people do in Japan, most of those people are fringe elements to an otherwise respectful and amazing culture. That would be like if America was judged by the Tea Party, or by our reality shows, or by any of the other ten-thousand crazy things our people do, (and maybe we sometimes are.) What I am really trying to say is that it is hard to boil one place down to a single sentence that will aptly answer the question "So how was Japan?" It was amazing, dull, weird, boring, perfect, flawed, historic, modern, confusing, understandable, sexist, respectful, monochromatic, colorful, and so much much more. It is definitely a place I will be returning to, and a place I recommend to anyone. There is much to see and even more left to experience.