Why, Evolution? I Thought We Were Friends.

Let me say this first - I am a strong advocate of evolution. It's the only plausible explanation, for me, as to our existence on this planet. So, yes, that means I am not a deist or theist. But, that doesn't mean I don't have qualms with some things evolution has done.

Don't get me wrong, I am all for opposable thumbs, great hair and the ability to sing in thirty different languages, but sometimes the things evolution did just seem cruel. In retrospect. And I'm not talking just about the animal kingdom or the whole "testicles on the outside" thing, either - though, really, that was a slip up.

No, what I'm talking about, is the essence of sentience. Stick with me here. All mammals - and most likely all animals - share the same instinct to survive. In 1952, neurologist Paul McLean proposed that the Limbic System was where all emotional survival instincts originate - fight, flight, feed and procreate. However, around 50,000 years ago, one of these early humans became conscious of its own consciousness.

This means it gained the ability to contemplate its life, what has happened, what could be and, the focus of this article, its own death. A completely unique creature which can merge the creation of highly evolved symbolic systems with the destructive power of its most basic instinct, fear.

Ernest Becker said that;

"[T]he real world is simply too terrible to admit. It tells man that he is a small, trembling animal who will someday decay and die. Culture changes all of this, makes man seem important, vital to the universe. Immortal in some ways." 

To make things clear, I am also an advocate of culture, because it does make us feel important. The things we create are unparalleled by any other creature in existence. Art, literature, films, technology, this article - all of these things are part of what makes mankind's culture so interesting; a way of immortalising itself while simultaneously bringing joy and improvement to the lives of all humans who follow.

Of course there are the negative aspects of culture and culture propagators, but that is not the focus here.

The focus here, is the fact that we - as human beings - are born with the awareness of our own deaths. While I can comprehend the evolutionary point to giving us opposable thumbs and the ability to use tools - it makes us a deadly prey while also leaving us fleshy, soft and gooey as opposed to being covered in armour and spikes. With tools and creativity, we create our own weapons and armour. I can also see the evolutionary point in being upright with two hands and two legs, it’s a simple and easy structure. What I can not find logic for is the awareness of our own demise. 

Of course, with the awareness of existence comes in tandem the awareness of the end of that existence. I guess that's the only way it can be. This sentience is what we lord over the animals with, creating beautiful and wondrous things as a result of it. We immortalize ourselves. As social psychologist Sheldon Solomon said, 

"[culture] is supposed to give us a sense of where we come from and what we're supposed to do while we're here". 

Then again, evolution, you've given an essentially still-primitive mammal, whose basic instinct is still to be afraid of everything, and made them aware that they’re going to die.

I have lain awake at nights, having shaking panic attacks, contemplating the concept that, though I am alive now, I will die. And it's not the dying that scares me - that's the easy part. It just happens. No, what's hard to come to terms with is the overarching perspective that I am used to existing, to doing things, and then to suddenly no longer be doing anything at all is terrifying.

Honestly, from an evolutionary standpoint, I can't figure out what the point was to give us awareness of our existence and death. The logical answer, then, is to not think about it and to make the best of the time that we do have, but let's face it - we're obsessed with death. It's everywhere. Films. TV. Books. Art. All of these are filled with death. Religion is used as a coping mechanism and tells us we go somewhere afterwards - forever - once we die, to make this world not seem so awful.

I don't know, evolution, your reasons are mysterious to me. But, hey, I'm scared of mother nature already - I'm not going to mess with her will.

Mahalo.

It Ain't Easy Being Green

I think it's safe to say that, generally, we don't think about colours. I don't mean in the fashion way, but more in the "why do we attribute so  much meaning to them" way. For example, science says that both men[1] and women[2] are more likely to go after people who are wearing red. The study showed that even pictures of the same people were rated as hotter if they were wearing red. The reasoning seems to be that men find red on women sexier, taking the colour as an implicit tendency towards sexuality, whereas women were apprently turned on by red because it represents power. Go figure - science, supporting cultural stereotypes!

But, alas, I'm not here to talk to you about the colour red. I'm here to talk about the colour green, in all of its multi-faceted confusion.

What do you think of when I say green?

Spring and renewal? Decay and sickness? With envy? Maybe you think of "being green" or environmentally friendly (thanks Green Party and Greepeace). Or maybe of wealth, "I'm in the green!" (thanks, American dollar). Also, green is the sign of being in the clear (stoplights, stock-market, etc.) as opposed to "being in the red" (bad). But, again, I'm not here to talk about red.
None of you would be wrong. It turns out that green, from what I can tell, is by far the most confusing colour ever. It represents, in some cases, complete, fundamental opposites.

It may be pretty obvious to you why green is associated with renewal and cleanliness - and if it isn't obvious, let me explain. In spring, things (RE: plants) turn green again, becoming fresh and new. That's it. Glad I could clear that up for you.

Now, while it may also seem obvious about green being associated with death, decay and sickness, not all of it is as clear as you might think. The obvious parts are that a decaying anything turns green in some way - old fruit goes green (and fuzzy), etc. When someone is sick, they take on a greenish pallor. Seems straightforward, right? Well, here is where things take a turn for the creepy and weird.
One of the reasons green is associated with death isn't just because of the sickness pallor or mould, but because of graveyards. 

Back in the days before proper embalming practices and sealed coffin burial were introduced, you were pretty much just thrown into a hole in the ground unless you were rich. Sure, you got a nice pine box or some such, but it wasn't exactly high quality wood - not like the Caddilac coffins we get now. Snazzy. Anyway, the biggest side effect of throwing numerous decomposing bodies into holes in and around the same area were the gasses. Sure, the smell was gone - that's why they bury you six feet down, so your body-stink doesn't infest the rest of the graveyard - but the gases still pile up. These gases would seep through the soil to the top.
Have you ever seen a horror film with a scene set in graveyard and it's all misty? Well picture that, but in the moonlight, it was green. I'm not kidding. The light reflected off of the stink-gases were literally cause a greenish glow around the graveyard. Thus, green was forever associated with death, decay, sickness and technically, the occult.

So, I hear you cry, from whence does the term "green with envy" come? Well, now that you know all that stuff above, it's relatively simple. There are a few explanations for the use of green's association with envy, some biblical, some Shakespearian. All pretty much the same. 

In the Bible, they're pretty clear that envy (or "coveting") is a pretty bad thing. In the Middle Eastern region, stemming from ancient times, given that light-coloured eyed people were quite rare, they were said to carry the Evil Eye[3]. So, anyone with green or blue eyes was bad luck. There was also an original Hebrew term that spawned the modern "green with envy" and that was horik panav ke-neged which meant "to be green with anger at someone"[4]. The Greeks believed envy was a result of an overproduction of bile, leading to a greenish pallor in the skin during sickness and interchanged the words "green" and "pale" to mean sickly[5]. The European medical idea of the Humours didn't differ much from this. Seeing as envy was seen as a sickness, they associated it with the same colour. Shakespeare even anthropomorphised it in Othello, “O! Beware my lord, of jealousy; it is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on". And in Anthony and Cleopatra, "…and Lepidus, since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled with the green sickness".  And in The Merchant of Venice, "How all the other passions fleet to air, as doubtful thoughts and rash embraced despair and shuddering fear and green-eyed jealousy".

There you have it. green represents life and death, wellness and sickness, renewal and decay. And envy. See, I even did research. There. Everything you (n)ever wanted to learn about green, but were too afraid to ask.

---

[1] "Red Enhances Men's Attraction To Women, Psychological Study Reveals" ScienceDaily.com, October 28, 2008 and "Wearing Red 'Boosts Attraction'", BBC.co.uk, October 28, 2008. Referencing a study from the University of Rochester published October 28, 2008 in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology.

[2] "Women Prefer Men in Red, Study Shows" CNN.com, August 6, 2010 and "Women Attracted Men in Red, Research Shows" ScienceDaily.com, August 3, 2010. Referencing a study published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology: General on August 2, 2010 by the University of Rochester.

[3] Cora Lynn Daniels, et al., covers this in Encyclopædia of Superstitions, Folklore, and the Occult Sciences of the World (Volume III), p. 1273, University Press of the Pacific, Honolulu.

[4] "Color: The Kaleidoscope of Human Emotion", Jewish Heritage Online Magazine, referencing Judges 5:30.

[5] Feldman, David Who Put the Butter in Butterfly?, HarperPerennial; 1st Perennial Library Edition February 19, 1990.

In Memorium: A Quiet Eulogy

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

- Dylan Thomas

There is a death permeating, slowly - over the course of the past year especially - that
hasn't really been spoken about and, unless you're in the business, you wouldn't really know to think about it. Really, to a lot of you, this kind of death seems like an obvious transition, something that of course makes sense in our modern times but there is something distinctly sad about this death, this passing.

I speak, in no uncertain terms, about 35mm film projectors.

In cinemas.

Back in high school, I used to work at the Cinemas in Chatswood. It was a pretty good job for  someone my age, with a decent wage ($10.50p/hour) and the staff benefit of two free movie tickets every day. They didn't stack, but still, it was pretty great for dating.

At the bottom of the food chain were people like me - snacks salespeople, ticket tearers, cinema cleaners - and then supervisors and managers. But somewhere in the middle, were the mysterious folk known as Projectionists. These guys got to dress in black polo shirts and spent the whole day up in the Projection Room where they would stick the reels of film onto the projector and click on, making sure to change the reel at the right time. For every film. In every cinema.

I had only ever seen the Projection Room once, on my tour of the cinema when I first got my job. It was at the top of the fire stairs. It was the goal of almost every popcorn monkey on staff to become a Projectionist.

You worked with the films.

You were the bringer of magic to the masses!

And, more importantly, you worked on your own.

Away from other staff.

Away from the managers.

Away. From. The. Public.

It was basically Hoyts' version of Living the Dream.

Movies are such a big part of who I am that this job was perfect for me. Unfortunately, I ended up leaving Hoyts before I got to Projectionist, but that's a story for another day.

I remember being awed by the dark, musty room at the top of the fire stairs, above all the cinemas. It smelled like film varnish and sticky tape. The loud "click-click-clicking" and shuttering of the projectors echoed throughout the cement walls of it. It was the tiny, magic place where dreams spewed forth in a stream of light, onto the screen and into my brain.

There was something inherently - again, for lack of better words - magical about seeing the reels change, sticking the different parts of film together to make sure the film was snipped together right. There was also a joy in keeping tiny, discarded pieces of snipped off film as a memento from whatever film - it was usually the "3, 2, beep" from the start of the film, but still, it was a part of the film and it was yours.

A friend of mine - we'll call her Emily - still works as a Hoyts Projectionist. Recently, she told me something upsetting.

"We're getting rid of all the old projectors," she said. "They're replacing them with digital versions."

"What?" I could hardly believe it.

"Yeah, it's all going onto hard drives. We even called our distributors to tell them not to send us anymore film."

It was impossible. Replace the Projectionist?

"They have me working candy bar now," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "I get to wear a manager's uniform and boss the underlings around, but still."

"But you still have to go up and press the play button, right?" I edged closer. "Right?"

"Nope," she sighed here. "It's all on an automated schedule. We just sometimes have to go up and make sure it's all running okay."

She said she wanted to show me, and that she had something to give me. We left the bar and we walked to the cinema. I hadn't been in the building in years but I remembered the smell of the trash room elevator. She swiped her card and we went up. Magical Projection Level 3A.

I got a small nervous excitement - I was going to see the Projection Room again! The elevator doors opened onto the cold. I remembered the constant air conditioning to keep the projectors cool and to prevent the film from burning or catching alight. But this was a different cool. I knew this cool.

This was Server Room cool - the air conditioned sanctity of the IT guy's domain. Emily switched the light on and where there were once rows of these huge, classical behemoths stood boxes with flashing lights and a small screen, shooting out the film onto the screen. Next to it stood another giant black box that I recognized as a hard drive hub.

"Oh, geez," I said, looking at it. "It's so cold."

"Yeah, doesn't have the same mystique, does it?"

"Not at all."

I turned and Emily fetched something out from her locker. An bright, orange wheel wrapped in dark brown.

"Here," she said, handing the weighty thing over to me. "I found it in the garbage and I just couldn't leave it there. I saw it and thought of you and knew you want it."

What I held in my hands, dear readers, was a reel of 35mm film.

"What's on it?" I didn't take my eyes off it.

"Nothing," she said, closing her locker. "It's a dud reel, nothing on it, a tester or whatever. We always get at least one. And they always have that lady in the first 3 frames."

I looked at it in the light and, sure enough, a lady in a red blazer smiled back at me and then an endless nothing of varnished brown.

"It's heavy, but it's yours if you want it."

I couldn't thank her enough. 
I rode home on the train with it in my lap, smiling. Scrawled on the side was, "STOP! Do not put BLUE FILM on here." And I smiled. I didn't know what blue film was, but I didn't care. There was something about it all that made me smile.

So, goodnight, I say, to you Projectors and Projectionists and 35mm film. Rest easy. No more are the days of cigarette burns at the top of the screen to indicate the change of reel; no more are the days of scratches and burns and character in the film print; no more can Tyler Durden splice into you single frames of pornography to shock the movie-goers and their children.

It may seem like a little thing to you, dear readers, but to me, it's everything.

Mahalo.

Gaming Loses One of Its Own

Though you may not know who he was - and it is likely that a lot of you didn't - Adam Adamowicz designed gaming worlds that most gamers know and fell in love with. Most notably those of Fallout 3 and the new worldwide time-consumer Skyrim.

Yesterday, he lost a fight to cancer and passed away. The gaming community has lost a truly great talent and I would like to extend my greatest sympathies to his friends, family and coworkers at this difficult time. To quote TechPowerUp:

The industry and the world has truly lost a great visionary and no matter what the next Fallout or Oblivion game will be, it will be a little less wonderful because of it.

 Mahalo.