The Reason Why We Tell Stories

Behind even the smallest encounter is a story. This may sound like a large call to make, yet psychology would vouch it as true (well at least the majority). Since identity has become so important to us in this reign of the individual, we need a story to verify our own existence. Are you sophisticated? Prove it with the coffee you drink. Are you ethical? Prove it by donating to a charity, or helping an elderly person cross the road. Witty? Find things in the news that are both funny and intelligent. The ways in which we 'prove' our identities, often through activities we already like doing, structure even the smallest details of our everyday lives.

 The problem with telling stories is that there is often a very fine line between a story and a lie. 'Telling stories' is, in fact, the wording for telling lies (just put in a much nicer way). Yet telling stories is what we rely so much upon in everyday decisions. Which shampoo you buy is very much dictated by who you think you are (are you thrifty, girly, would you even buy your shampoo from the supermarket?). So are general acts of kindness, or driving habits, or search terms; and, one could argue, even the fact whether there is a decision to do something at all (after all, these things might not apply to your life narrative at all).

Furthermore, your identity in your life story often seems to fit into one prescribed by society. The terms you would use to describe yourself are cut out for you - nerd, narcissist, drop-out, handsome - and all rely on societal norms anyhow. And yet, all of us want to be individual. We try and fight the restrictions placed upon who we can and can't be. Nevertheless, these societal 'stories' are the tools which others use to place us in their stories. Categories of stories help people know where other people 'fit'. Which leads you easily to the question - are our whole lives just a bunch of stories? Or, to put it harshly, a pack of lies?

 This may seem a highly strung question for a Thursday morning (I would agree with you). Yet in a world where no one actually knows what the real deal is (unless you are religious or religiously-scientific), lies are what you cling to. It is really up to society to deem your life story, or you, as authentic (remembering that you, too, are an actor in that society). These narratives that we use to make sense of the world are the only things that make sense. They are external and they are real - you can grab on to them, blog them, remember them with photos, have them re-told to you. You can make up your own authenticity; after all, who is to prove that any of the stories are objectively true? They are all released into the current frame of who you think you now are, or who you want to be.

The most common desired life narratives are picked up by marketers and advertisers, who insert their products into the way you live your life. If you can use a brand of toothpaste or drink a brand of tea every morning, then that too is part of your (at least external) identity. Life stories are developed much before the time you could write an autobiography: they are persistent in your persistence to repeat the same things over and over as life rituals. Psychologically, we are built to love rituals - they help our mental health. And so we become, increasingly, what we do, but also what we buy, as a reflection of what we desire. Whether or not we are conscious of it, we are all authors of at least our own existence, pencilling down the grittiest of details for ourselves to see.

 So what does all this matter, really? Well, it just makes you more aware that much of what sells today is really bottled familiarity and desire. The objects we want, and crave, are those that we believe will help us get that little bit closer to the person we want to be (whether consciously or not). Even negating buying is part of this; your ability to not buy is a part of you believing you are a person that would not be 'sucked in'. The things you use everyday, in this way, are not so much tools as objects of memory - objects that remind you of what you are aspiring to become, where you've been and maybe even a bit of  past sentimentality in-between. As humans are already anthropologically connected to possessions in ways not fully discovered, that daily mirror you use could indeed be a cultural reflection of you. You, at least, branded.

Awkward or Just Uncomfortable?

We've all had an experience, particularly as Kiwis, that is awkward. It might be something as simple as deciding who goes next in a line, or having to butt in on a conversation. It might go a little further and involve frenemies or exes in out of context places. Maybe someone's sprung you doing a flash 'n' dash down the hallway? Whatever it was, it was a defined moment, and it was awkward.

Girl In The Middle: Awkwardness Exhibit A

 My question today is: what is the essence of awkwardness? So many varied situations can be awkward. Sometimes a potentially awkward situation is glossed over by a great sense of confidence or troubleshooting at the time. Sometimes you are awkward and others aren't, or vice versa. Is awkwardness derived from your moral values, or personal upbringing, or brought about simply by waking up on the wrong side of (someone else's) bed? Most of the time, it seems increasingly hard to tell.

To bring an awkward (out of context) dictionary definition into the play, awkwardness is defined as three things:

Something or someone causing difficulty in your life; e.g.  an awkward-moving shopping trolley, or bringing a friend that doesn't socialize well to a party

Causing easy embarrassment or inconvenience; e.g.  seeing one of your parents flirt with bar staff at a family restaurant outing

Not smooth or graceful; e.g., tripping whilst trying to look desirable in front of someone you may like to procreate with

The Duck Pout: A regular fixture in awk-sexy pictures

The thing that stands out about these three definitions of awkwardness is that they are really not that varied. Awkwardness is really just being uncomfortable in a situation. Your chances of feeling uncomfortable have strong links to self-esteem and introversion, which explains why people with these traits find reasons for not talking to others. They're not used to socializing, and so socializing is unfamiliar, and thus uncomfortable. Maybe they've had a bad situation they're reminded of which makes the experience uncomfortable. Inexperience creates unfamiliarity which begets awkwardness.  Or, you'll just always find it strange to see your dad trying to get it on with the waitress.

For the things that we can change, namely our side of social interactions, it seems there is only one solution: get yourself out there. Face the embarrassing situations. You may find, after all, that they're not actually that embarrassing (or maybe what's embarrassing is your feeling embarrassed which leaves other people feeling awkward). Make your conversation as available as the dole to a bush stoner. Maybe then conversation will smooth over all that is awkward on that graceless morning after.

Hunger for The Hunger Games

Every so often a movie comes out that is a cult sensation. Sometimes these are critic-worthy, sometimes not. But what is worthy in all of them is their popularity, and what that has to tell us about the values of our culture. Why, for example, are vampires suddenly sexy? Why the burst of psychocrime shows on main channels? What is it about law dramas that excite our interest? Because all of them are popular, and for the most part, profitable. Something within them touches a cultural nerve.

This is the mindset from which I approach The Hunger Games. For while the film appeals to basic instincts such as survival and family loyalty, its popularity has reached levels past reasonable expectations. The highest grossing film in NZ for this year by far, its success in the US and abroad has been put down to great reviews. Yet, paid or unpaid, the great reviews too had to come from somewhere. The modern consumer is often smart enough to smell fabricated praise, whether by use of language or the mere site on which false love is published. Instead, I propose that The Hunger Games is a great amalgamation of trends and themes we're running across for 2012. Some we have reached, some are in the works overseas and are running off current loves. All are relevant in the question of what makes a blockbuster, and its underlying question of what indeed makes something an icon of cult culture.

Andre Pejic: Taking Androgny to New Levels

Cross-Gender
This is a theme that has been widely attributed to The Hunger Games' success. Cross-gender here is not transsexual, or the sexual offerings at 2am on K Road, but rather androgny. Androgny has been running through fashion for some time, making headlines through the usage of dual-sex models such as Andrej Pejic. Wear boyfriend jeans, long blazers or brogues to work? Know men that wear cardigans? You have been swept away by the andrognynous trend, too. Celebrities, just like they do with any trend, have also been catching on, most notably Tilda Swinton. In Hunger, this cross-gender theme is best dsisplayed in the khaki gear all the 'players' wear and the disruption of gender stereotypes, such as Katniss' skill as a hunter.

Trilogies: Successful or not?

Book Trilogies
This is a trend that has also been underway for some time, most popularly deployed in Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. The audiences most likely to watch The Hunger Games would be anywhere from 10 to 30 - a generation (Y) which has been weaned on trilogies and their cult status in marketing. In the face of virtual gaming, parents often see movies sprung from books as a good way to get their children to read more - the result being that the main story is often encouraged. Trilogies also offer a long period of interest and maintain audience hype, making them attractive offers for publicists. The Hunger Games is only the first in a trilogy of three, which will no doubt  be released with substantial time lapses for extra revenue.

Reality Show Humiliation
The humiliation endured by the characters in Hunger is not a new phenomemon - since the rise of reality shows at the turn of the millennium, producers have been looking for more and more laughs to keep audiences. Shows like The Moment of Truth, where contestants ruin their personal lives for a few thousand dollars, are  examples of humiliation-earning ratings. The humiliation theme crosses many other aspects of reality-show life: dating (The Bachelor/ Bachelorette, Beauty and the Geek), personal appearance (I Used To Be Fat, The Swan, 60 Minute Makeover), sports and athletics (Survivor, The Amazing Race) and intellect (Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader). The gaming aspect of most of these shows is attractive in a generation addicted to instant gratification, offering a part both for the voyeur and the fame-hungry. The Hunger Games realizes this humiliation through the upper society's control of the game and the usage of cameras.

The Moment of Truth: Humiliation Made Public

 Apocalypse
One could argue the theme of apocalypse is centuries old - but, just like fashion trends, it is one that resurges at peak times. Apocalyptic themes are booming not just in movies such as Twilight and Avatar but in the news, too, with the Mayan calendar's looming date shadowed at the end of the year. Debate has been lively around this, boosted by riots and mini-wars across the globe as leaders topple and societies revolt. This film, although not actually about the end of the world, invokes apocalypse through the potential end of the contestant's world, the upper society's control being that of a Creator, and the struggle to death at the end.

All of these are just a few of the trends Hunger relates to; but you can see the power they have in making a success of a production. Produce what people are interested in and you've tapped desire. Produce what is relevant to people and you've made it interesting. Combine the two together with  trends in fashion and consumerism and you've got something intellectually and emotionally interesting that is cool.

Let the Hunger Games begin.

Undercover Critics: Degas and Dali

Some days you feel like you wouldn't mind a little more art in your life. These are the days that you go to the gallery. Dressed in simple, casual wear with an accessory that shows you are of 'the art pack', you cruise down in an understated, purposeful way, as if this is something you do all the time. You've been to plays, theatre acts, local exhibitions - never mind that was a couple of years ago whilst you were still at uni. You appreciate the craft of acting - on Home and Away. Going to the gallery is just supporting your love and local passion for the love of art - right? And so this same conversation plays, it seems, in the heads of 85% of the people visiting the exhibition with you.

Red Tree FB Profile Pic: The Real Reason People Go To The Gallery

 This was the reality of an exhibition I saw a couple of weeks ago called Degas to Dali. I should've known before I set foot in the place that this would happen - it is a  exhibition about the history of Western art, a topic that people love to relay information about at the dinner table, along with philosophy and politics. Somehow, by knowing the place where Van Gogh did his first famous painting, or being able to recognize a stroke of brush as this or that 'ism',   you can jump a couple of places in the class queue.

The great thing about exhibitions is that they provide most of that info to you - if you are patient enough to read the plaques. All you need to do then is fill in the blanks. And so, amongst a flurry of scarves, berets, and OE-inspired accessories, you find yourself wanting a quiet space but instead being engaged in a sophisticated sizing-up of the competition. What might seem a low hum of comments is actually a war of sublety, of who can pass what witty comment at the appropriate moment.

A Typical Art Gallery War Scene

 Personally, I put this phenomenon down to New Zealand's Tall Poppy Syndrome. For surely if we were allowed to toot our horn we would not need to go to the gallery to do it. Quiet in decibels, many of the exhibition's elements screamed self-recognition and hopeful praise. Neon belts yelled for style. Red lettering screamed designer desire. Scarf wraps egged on education. So many minute details, so little formal recognition. Cascading chatter bumped on keywords like 'Impressionism', and 'Japanese print', but no bossy art critic lauded his views to the gallery masses. So much for all those hours they must've spent listening in art classes and trawling creative sites.

But why write such a lengthy account of what is, at best, a two-hour experience? Because it's just another little gem that I've found of New Zealand culture, along with our being unable to form lines and cheering at the last moment. Turns out that so many of us are brilliant but have no way to foghorn out our talent. And when we do want to, at the art gallery, it's as mice-men, quietly nibbling away our rough edges and placing a foothold in modern culture.

Impolite Delight

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past 20 years, you'll know we've been living in an age of technological excuses. Wearing an IPod means you didn't hear the fire bell. Having a smartphone means you can check emails during meetings (or, among the slack of us, play Words With Friends). Having three computers at your desk, each angled for wider screen viewing, means that you don't have to interact with people anywhere within an 180 degree visual radius. They are good excuses, and they tend to let people off the hook for a number of social crimes. Was he ignoring you? No, he just didn't hear you. Not returning your emails? Spam filter. And the list goes on.

 The secret to all of this technological blocking is, of course, that most of the time people aren't actually occupied. They just want to seem occupied. For those of you reading this that think you're above dock-blocking, I ask you to look deep into your soul and ask: Have you pretended to text someone whilst avoiding someone you know on the street? Perhaps unplugged one earphone out of your ear to listen to someone, only to turn up the music a little when the conversation got boring? Yes, I know you have - not to mention the 'not available to chat' functions on Facebook and Gmail. You see, it's human nature - and with technology it's just far too easy an opportunity to pass up.

But what is the real problem with dock-blocking, you ask? Since when did we have to be available 24/7 to any old acquaintance you've added on Facebook (especially when you've only added some to stalk their pictures)?

I hear you. I've had the same dilemma myself. Perhaps there is some etiquette, just like there would be with any other social phenomenon, that needs to be applied. Social media sites could easily bypass some rules around not ignoring people. Emails - well, it depends on whether it's work-based, whether you know the person, how much legitimacy the subject carries. Face-to-face interactions are really the sore point of distraction here - it is a rather decaf, and resentment-inducing, task to talk to someone living half-screen, half-reality.

Since multitasking has been outed as particularly inefficient,  perhaps the idea is to live a little more in the less-pixelated, more natural atmosphere; to love and leave the IPhone; to recognize the dead-end of Words with Friends. For though we shouldn't be expected to respond to everyone, perhaps the question has now reversed: since when were our responses not expected?

A little Friday food for thought.

Descending From The Dead

For those who are interested in a bit of small-cinema production, George Clooney's newest film The Descendants might be on your hit list. Featuring Gorgeous George and enough of Fiji to chase away those autumn blues, it may seem the perfect anecdote to the end of summer.

 The Descendants, however, is a bit more than you would expect with your average Choc-Top. A refreshing change from cliches and a new surge of mindless-Naughties-movies, its stand-out point is that its main character is in a coma. Yes: a coma. Mouth open and ungraceful, mother-of-two Elizabeth King (Patricia Hastie) is a centrepoint for all emotion, past happenings, and, in the case of this film, discovered secrets. Her skin pales as those around her flush with anger and excitement, chasing down her past in neighbouring islands and cursing her misdeeds.

 Some who have watched the film may disagree that Elizabeth is the main focus; after all, there is much acting work devoted to the screen by Clooney and the two daughters he reconnects with. Yet the way the film is structured is much like an autobiography - it appears to be about the person who speaks (or writes) but is really an account of how other people have influenced them. In the case of The Descendants, this autobiographical form is played with: it is not about the main actors, plural,  but about the one actor who cannot speak. In this way, all the other actors speak for her silence; whether they are friends, family, or just people who knew her, her presence and now quasi-presence affects them all.

 In addition to this interesting film dynamic, there are some other winning qualities of the picture. The way in which it is shot is relaxed and realistic; spit between people's teeth and terrible Hawaiian shirts are no problem for this piece. The disconnectedness of the family is also well played out - evident but not over-dramatized. The best feature, by far, would have to be the sustainment of awkward moments, which grip the nerves in mysterious ways.

So, was it good? Sure. I certainly enjoyed it. Just another one to muse over a coffee to at your local independent.

Top Tips to Stop Tearing Your Hair Out: How To Make the Everyday Exciting

Boring. Banal. Usual. Nothing to write home about. These, even in the most high-powered jobs (probably more so in the  case of high-powered people, since they made the climb) describe work that we have to do, but don't particularly want to. The little tasks. The hard yards. That mathematician-friendly-looking spreadsheet, or project you just never seem to get right. Again: the boring bits.

Gaaaaah....A dictionary-entry of a mis-spelt word.

Thankfully, as we are all such diverse creatures, not all the things that bore us are the same. I happen to be a fan of editing spelling mistakes and spread-sheeting my life. There are people out there who love cleaning, maths equations, programming, or tracking the progress of dust over a year in a contained environment. These are the people that save us the hassle of doing something we hate. And, as shown by my loves, most of us have a secret passion for something nerdy that is akin to a guilty pleasure - never coming out of the closet, but there to aid the rest of society. It's just  as well we do - after all, just like rubbish truck drivers and public bathroom cleaners, someone's gotta do it.

The love of lustreless, laggardly tasks is what I would like to use as an inspiration. Surely, if we can be interested in watching the Jersey Shore cast members spray-tan, amateurs cook and experts re-do badly renovated homes, we can find motivation to get the tasks done that we have to do anyway. The fact that these things are perceived as boring is besides the point: it is the fact that they are presented in an interesting way that makes them seem worthwhile. If the insight here is that the quality of x being interesting is that it is perceived as being so, then we can warp our own brains to make dull things dapper, The Matrix-styles. Take these tips as your dose of activity acid for the day.

How to make common things cool: a style guide.

1. Make up a war-style fight between the topic/object and its main competitor/enemy. Believe it or not, margarine's nemesis is butter.

2. Go on fan sites for the topic/object. There are nuts for everything in the webisphere, and their enthusiasm is contagious.

3. Find awards for the 'thing' in question. For example, if you are doing a project on watching paint dry, find the Guinness World Record for the person who did it for the longest.

The Proverbial Ball in Action

4. Find a spoof of the item/topic on YouTube. People posting videos know it the best.

5. Ask someone what they like/hate the most about it the item/topic. It will give you a new perspective on why you think as you do.

6. Get inside the mind of the object/subject's creator. Stalk their habits and have a look at their spouse. Once you know why the subject/item was invented, you can perform your tasks much better, too.

Six steps for someone who has a spare minute, or maybe a few more (myself). Just another way to keep the old proverbial ball-rolling.