61) United

Remember when I told you about that speck of light in that new technological monument? You know, that Halo: Reach thingy?

Now that the game's been out for awhile, the monument has finally shut down (a personal Facebook message told me so), so let's take a look back on what was accomplished here.

Over the course of about a month, 118,422 people used their Facebook pages to post a contribution to the memorial. That's not counting the people who visited the site and didn't have an Facebook to contribute. (Rare these days, no?)

The dots came from all over the world, stretching from Milan to Osaka. Hell, they made a video about it:

In that earlier post, I talked about being united, having a sense of belonging. It all becomes much more satisfying once you know the numbers and statistics behind this little advertising campaign. People all over the world, many of whom will never meet each other, used the internet to share a single common passion. It's difficult to grasp that something like this, especially for a video game, could've happened just little over a decade ago.

That's what the internet revolution has done for us. If the new Facebook movie is any indication, it's that the internet plays a vital role in our lives. Instead of us mastering it, it now has the ability to master us.

It has the potential to bring us to tears, make us laugh, do stupid things, etc. Next to that, you've got the cultivation of a new online language as legal as ebonics, pictures of cats and their witty captions, or Youtube videos of morons hurting themselves.

I admit even I feel a bit internet incompetent sometimes. Coming from a seventeen-year old that spends 50% of his time on a computer, this might seem blasphemous. But then again, you don't see alot of seventeen year-olds these days convey information in readable grammar and spelling. (I try, anyway) Some of my peers would find this revulsive, just as their English teachers would cry tears over their texts.

Even a youngster like me can't help but feel a little slow when it comes to texting, Twittering, etc. I don't do texting or Twittering, but the fear exists in me that someday I might be forced to do it for some job or something.

Technology is indeed growing more generational by the day. Why a couple of days ago, I had a good laugh when my English teacher couldn't make his projector connect to his laptop. I sensed that he could feel our snickering eyes follow his every action, but when he finally got it to work, there was a loud and clear "Ha!" directed right back at us.

So there exists the possibility that when I'm old enough to be a sagacious teacher, I won't be able to keep up with technological trends. Who knows? By then paper books might be extinct, or they've perfected installing whole computers into a chip that can plug into your head.

At least I won't go it alone. As a generation, we can be united. Not necessarily to control the world with technology, but rather provide a voice of reason against technology controlling us.

For now, I can settle for being number 81,361 out of 118,422 little dots, all soldiers of an online generation.

60) Running Too Fast

Alot of the discussions in my AP government class are often spontaneous. A group of well rounded students interested in politics have the capacity to go off on some glorious tangent. On top of that, they also have the remarkable capability to listen to each other with respect.

It's proof that the thirst for education and the truth is not dead. Even though everybody in that class would like to be elsewhere, it's an alluring atmosphere of clever jokes, valid points of argument, and never-ending rounds of discussion. It is in itself very representative of American government.

But there is a large difference between this group of students and the politicians in Washington D.C.

That difference is electronic competency.

This post made me laugh hysterically. In a way, it's sad to see the older generation try and catch up with current times. Some people are beautifully adept at it, streamlining their opinions using new fads of technology.

But in this case, a Senator trying to be discreet has no idea what he's doing. Spraying evil hate is difficult when people can trace it back to the origin. D.C. has changed.

But my lack of faith in our government is not the focus of this post.

More and more recently, I've come to believe that human innovation has outpaced it's own capacity to understand it as a whole.

To be fair, this is applicable to any idea or concept like war or weapons. It is arguable that humans in their thousand year history still haven't mastered the wheel.

Look at it this way: radio's been around for a century, and we're still using it today even though it's slowly dying. T.V.'s been around for more than half a century, and your grandfather remembers when their image was still black and white. Less than a decade ago, computers suddenly became available for personal use.

Our period of acclimation is growing shorter and shorter as innovations are coming faster and faster.

My point here is that we're struggling to understand the newest technologies that will fade away before we have sufficient knowledge to use them properly. It allows for carelessness. This is why people are blasting Facebook as a degenerate group that encourages stupidity and conformity. Failbook can attest to this.

Eventually we'll invent some new technology that can solve our problems. But before we're able to understand how to use it, the world is destroyed in some nuclear firestorm.

Perhaps that's the truth behind the 2012 apocalypse.

59) Willow

A long time gone, in rolling fields,
Only once I came upon a willow tree,
In its shade sat an old man,
Who eagered me down for his story.

He gave tales of his heartbreak youth,
Of a time before I was born,
Of failed endeavors and greatest success,
Of old age and wonder of death.

Finally, he asked for my tale,
And I could not find the words,
So I told him in kindest respect:

For I am too young to know,
Much to convey my life in words,
As you have seen the sights I have not,
And hear the sounds I have not heard.

He closed his gray eyes and smiled,
Set upon a frail hand on me,
Faded away into whispering wind,
No longer alive could he be.

Echoes lost in the quiet wind,
A long time gone in the fields,
I once knew a man who told me,
Under the shade of a willow tree.

58) Aftershock

With over nine years gone from that fateful day in New York, people still cringe at 9/11 and its repercussions. Everybody remembers where they were that day. More importantly, they remember the years afterward.

I was in elementary school when it happened, and I can still remember the absence of cartoons after school that day. I realized all the channels were filled with Bush's face, speaking in words I could barely grasp.

My teacher could barely understand it himself when we asked him about it. We were huddled in a circle, and he spent the entire period fielding questions with a shock I was not old enough to understand.

How long we've all come since then.

A failing economy, a war nobody wants, and the very ideals of an American constitution strained. Life does go on, but nobody is willing to admit that things are alright. They're not. Everything is quickly spiraling out of control, and the prospect of recovery seems nearly impossible.

So when we look back on 9/11, it is much more than just casualties and suicide bombers. It is a symbol of a united America, a justification for all that we have done in the past decade. It is the origin for most national issues we harbor today, and will foreshadow what the next decade we live in.

Such a symbol will never die. The innocent victims have become martyrs of American ideals, and people will accept no less. A national holiday has been designated for 9/11, simply known as Patriot Day.

Let's get one thing clear: people die everyday. There are only two reasons why we remember select individuals:

1) They accomplished something life-changing/memorable in their lifetime.

2) They died for a memorable cause.

What did the victims of 9/11 die for? A war fought in their honor? A ravaged economy? A divided America?

What would they think of America today?

57) Forbidden Logic

When you're in a class like AP Computer Science and work with Java, most people have no idea what you're talking about. It falls a bit close to being a racial stereotype in which you only expect one kind of person to understand what the self proclaimed elites call "serious business".

When I tell people about the class, I don't blame them for saying out loud their mental image of a good little nerd pushing their glasses back up and talking in that lisp. We sit quiet and conetnt, even exited as we punch in zeros and ones.

Were it so easy.

One or the other is not how any life works. There are gray areas we understandably avoid for various reasons. The older I get, the more I see ways to creep into gray areas.

My AP Comp Sci teacher told us on day one that the stuff we learned in his class could be used to cause alot of computer harm. Destroy a school network and the like. He made a simple rule:

Use your powers only for good, not for evil.

Me being my military self, its easy to give into my aggressive tendencies for destruction and brute force. I've already thought about doing computer evil a good dozen times already.

Thus we delve into the realm of self-control. One of the few things that separates the old from the young. Can't say that for all people, but everyone knows how easy it is to lose control, especially when you're a young child.

Losing control at school is not a good thing. I've done it before. We all have. It's an outlet for all those raging emotions. I keep telling myself to find an outlet.

My poetry's been on the fritz, as is my writing. I have more time than anybody else I know, and I can't bring myself to produce something more meaningful. If you have the time, get out there and express yourself for a little while in any way you know how. It's good for the soul.

There's this new guitar class at my school that I'm in. Nothing fancy, but I already broke the damn b-string. We all gotta start somewhere. School isn't as bad as it used to be. But then again:

Were it so easy.

56) Dots Of Light

Video games continue to break digital expectations. In a current world where moments of shock and awe are rarely associated with optimism, these mere distractions serve to give us some internal smiles.

The government could learn a thing or two from current video game marketing. In an America where competition is fueled by capitalism, companies have to be creative in selling their products. It's all about advertisement and building a brand. Except these days, it's gone online.

The best example I stumbled across today was the the Halo Reach Remembrance Memorial.

Allow me to explain.

Microsoft and Bungie are finally ending their multimillion dollar Halo franchise with a final game: Halo: Reach. Due on Sept. 14, the pre-orders pile up in the thousands, if not millions.

Reach is a prequel to the series, focusing on one of the most pivotal battles in the Halo universe and canon, aboard the planet, you guessed it: Reach.

The marketing campaign follows a slew of live action trailers, broadcast vigorously where the fanbase is the densest. This follows a legacy of ARG's left behind by the previous Halo games, most notably I Love Bees used for hyping up Halo 2.

For this new Halo: Reach, they've put up a memorial website. In the canon, The Battle of Reach has already occurred before all the other Halo titles, so it can be assumed that the protagonists of this game do not survive.

Even though the story takes place more than 500 years from now, it's a good tactic by Microsoft to put you as an observer of history, to witness these events as if you were a veteran of these battles. It makes sense, seeing as how any true Halo fan has played and witnessed all the other games and their depictions of war. This prologue is a fitting beginning to the end. (See what I did there?)

My excitement centers around the pre-release website for this game: Remember Reach.

The site is a simple view of a memorial of outlined figures, dedicated to the protagonists of the game. But here's the catch: the image is "built" by thousands of dots of light. In order to complete the memorial, fans and visitors to the website have to log onto their Facebook account, choose a unoccupied spot, and the huge robotic arm in the background moves to fill in the blank.

That's not all: the website takes your profile name and picture and puts it onto a sliding bar at the bottom. Proof that you helped build this marvel.

The website is updated live, with all chosen spots on a queue to wait for their moment of robotic arm glory. It's all recorded on camera, and you can see other names and their dots filled live. This behind the scenes video proves that there is an actual studio devoted to this 24/7 task. There's actually a real robotic arm that moves in front of a green screen.

These are the advances that draw your emotional obligation into a product. To feel that you can actually contribute to the canon directly provides a deeper and personal interpretation of the game and its universe. It's not just a simple: "See that memorial? I helped build that!" It's a deeper and subconscious link that makes it easier to lose yourself in the fiction.

With a story like humanity struggling to survive, it's not hard to sell Halo. In many aspects, it can even be interpreted as a metaphor for the United States and its war. Those deeply familiar with the Halo universe can tell you that the enemies are the same, alien and brutal, hell bent on fighting a religious crusade. The human defenders are a disillusioned group barely held together by a fractured government. Some are bent on peace, others vie for revenge. Human casualties become staggering.

There are stories of courage and valor, betrayal and heartbreak. Ethics are tested. People are killed. Heroes are born. Planets are glassed. Enemies are forced to team up. There's a paragraph from the book Halo: Ghosts of Onyx, that summarizes a major theme of the series, applicable to any modern war:

"It will give us time to think, plan, and come up with a better way to fight."

Parangosky whispered, "You want to trade lives for time."

Ackerson paused, carefully weighing his response, then said, "Yes ma'am. Isn't that the job of a soldier?" (47)

But I'm getting ahead of myself here. In the end, you don't have to be a fanboy of Halo or have to know the first thing about the canon to marvel at a Internet innovation via memorial. If for nothing else, participate for the sake of art. There is a story present everywhere, if you are willing to listen.

So go to the website and pick your own dot of light. My dot is tagged under my name, Derek Wong, on 8/31/2010, at 8:01 PM on coordinates x: 185.94 y: 68.23 z: -61.86.

Take a look at the thousands of other names and I dare you to tell me that video games can't be taken seriously. Because ladies and gentlemen, I give you:

A glimpse of the future.

55) Bleeding Out

After a first hard day of my senior year, I lost more respect and patience for myself than I ever thought I would. It's a new record.

It was to be expected, the sudden moment of identity shock coming to me as I transitioned from a carefree lazy ass that couldn't be bothered to give a damn back into a slave of the system. The fleeting moments of summer are officially gone, and a part of me would give up my dignity to go back.

The inevitability of the situation did not help. After three years of seeing the same red tile hallways, I knew the teachers and the rooms. I knew where to go and what to do. Regardless, the seniority that I now claim is a bit of a misnomer. We're still just students, and after a summer of fun we barely remember how the system feels.

I found it a little bit funny that my comrade veterans in this education endeavor were still asking questions pertaining to when we got out, or where some of the rooms were. I couldn't blame them for their weary red eyes, but even if I didn't know the answer, I had to act with a bit of professionalism.

And that's when it all came flowing back. The American educational system as a method to turn us into little hopeful workers, striving for CEO. We get close to each other, only for self-interest in advancement. When we get a better grade, we smile devilishly on the inside as we stroke our egos in front of the low-scorers. We don't earn wages. We earn grades.

Along the way, we might even earn a little respect.

But when my respect sours for others on the first day, it's apparent that something is very wrong. I'm very fair and tolerant when it comes to emotional auras, but the disruptive presence of the laughing peer behind me kills my ability to concentrate.

I don't blame him for my first-day dilemmas. There are more important things to consider, like the homework I got from my three advanced placement classes on the first day.

Which is all fine and dandy when parents don't understand why we isolate ourselves from them when we come back home. They seem to have very little empathy when we tell them we can do it later, that our work will get done eventually. We need a few minutes to prevent some emotional suicide after being fed to the hawks for eight hours.

Some people can handle this pressure. Just hope I can. ODST's drop into hell and back in one piece. Here's to hope.

But for God's sake, it's only the first day.

54) Fire Against Fire

Everybody has some sense of what the calm before the storm is. Whether it be a stop in the wind, or a anxious wait before going on stage, everybody knows the feeling.

Some people love it. A nervous and fleeting second where your body trembles in anticipation, waiting for the event to come. Depending on the situation, you might be smiling, you might be praying, or even crying.

It's the feeling you get as your heart races before stepping on stage to the welcoming applause. It's the steady anticipation of running from cover to the rain because you have no umbrella. It's the tilt of your eyes as you stare intently at the screen for the opening kick off at the Super Bowl.

This time tested moment is experienced by every person at least once in their lifetime, a trial of nerves that can leave a person speechless and unable to move.

The calm before the storm, as it were.

Sometimes it lasts for seconds, minutes, or even days. The prior knowledge of what is to happen next is either embroiled with cheery excitement or dreadful pessimism. Some are crushed by the weight of the moment, dissolving into a mess of tears and hyperventilation.

Others step up to the challenge, hiding their fear away from their otherwise careful observers. They know peers will look upon them, judging them at every step. Inside, they scream as they charge into the fray.

It's in our blood. Our humanity demands that we experience nervousness and anxiety. Our parents and their fathers have felt the same, whether it be before speaking on a podium, or banging their swords against shields as the battle line forms.

It is this immense anxiety that grips the young as they dive into school every year. As my educational journey takes another progressive step, I am beginning to feel the calm.

It's hard to pin it down. Humanity aside, I have no reason to feel this way. Along with my peers, we've all done this multiple times before. More times than can be mentioned. We know there is nothing to be worried about. We know exactly where to go and what to do.

But for a young sire like me, it all becomes subjunctive.

I learned how to deal with it in my own way a long time ago. Even as a young child, I would play it in my head over and over again as an act of inevitability. It was like pieces on a chessboard, waiting to be moved for the game ahead. My mind knew exactly how to metaphorize the journey ahead.

For me, school became war.

In third grade, I was a knight against dragons.

In fifth grade, I became Norman Cavalry at Hastings.

In eighth grade, I was an American GI on D-Day.

In eleventh grade, I became a fighter pilot for the Invictan Response Force Air Force.

Through this, alot of people are often cautious, even scared by the military vibe I give off. I don't care to try and explain to them that I don't see school the way they do.

I see a large battlefield of swords when I walk out into the hallway at the lunch bell. When a teacher gives out instructions, I see a mission briefing. When the class falls silent under the stress of work, I see a command center of people screaming into their mikes as soldiers fall not more than a few miles away.

Don't get me wrong, I still know how to separate myself from this delusional fantasy I indulge in. If anything, this makes my school days much more bearable and interesting. It makes me actually want to be in a classroom. Assignments become a serious matter of life and death. It's a justification to stay in hell.

Because, well, you fight hell with hell. Fire with fire.

You can laugh at me, pity me all you want. But the truth is that we all need our coping mechanisms. When someone dies, we cry. When somebody is born, we cry.

When somebody goes into hell, they fight.

So waiting for another school year that's about to come doesn't seem so bad. Sure, I can feel the anxiety and the shakes, but it's all the calm before the storm. I'm just waiting for another year-long war to fight. This is how I survive.

This year, I think I'll be an ODST.

53) To Expect With Confidence

It never gets any easier the older you grow up. It's a fact of life the new generation hates to accept, with all their free time invested in socializing and gaming. Who can blame them? School ain't what it used to be.

On a blistering Monday, nearly ninety degrees in a sun baked courtyard, I waited in line for my books. For my schedule. For my one last refugee of fun and hope to disappear as the summer drew to a close. The heat mocks me.

I took comfort in knowing I'm not alone. We all share the inner instinct to hate the inevitable. By default, that makes you alright with everyone else in line. If you're going to hell, don't do it alone.

Then came the regrets. The things you could've done but never got around too. You try not to blame yourself, but time is merciless in its path. And here, time seems to fall slower, just to torture you into pessimism.

There's something else though. Some inner feelings of...excitement?

That's what the schooling system has done to so many. An obsession to compete against your classmates, an addiction to "learn".

Many before me have tried to fight it, and have matured and moved on. Perhaps one day they might look at their kids and say: "Ha. I can't believe I used to do that. Good luck on your test!".

Sometimes I wonder how many teachers actually believe in the sham of an education system they work in. How often they devote their emotional mindset into genuinely caring for their students. How often they say to themselves: "This isn't right. I have to teach them not to think this way."

So when I see my friends and their smiles, exchanging stories of summer events, I detach myself enough to get lost in a moment of laughter. We all agree on a us vs. them mentality, staring at the teachers. We don't go into hell alone, because we are always there to help each other out on assignments and tests. We know favors count for alot.

Even as I horribly refuse a free drink from my friend because I forgot my wallet, I give in, because we both know I can help him someday, when he really needs that one homework.

I don't believe school can teach me anything worthwhile academically, but I do know it teaches you how to make friends.

Isn't a crap education system worth that much?

Interlude: Past Echoes

The story that I wrote for my creative writing class. Anyone who's bored and has time to kill, don't hesitate to slander me for this. Alternate link.

For familiar friends: Take a closer look at the movie poster. :)
Crimson Toy