Watching El Laberinto del Fauno/Pan's Labyrinth (2007-01-20)

An old friend says he doesn't read fantasy because he read The Lord of the Rings and few--if any--authors match J.R.R. Tolkien's ability. While I'm not as exclusive in my reading of fantasy or other speculative fiction, reading the Inklings has led me to expect of fairy tales the feel of something real. Glimpsing and overhearing the wider world beyond the story are part of that feel.

Roger Ebert calls El Laberinto del Fauno "a fairy tale for grown-ups." Despite the young girl as a protagonist, the tale is definitely for grown-ups: the movie is gory. However, the fairy tale elements go no further than the story, and the realistic elements (1944 Spain) contain implausible evil. (Here's a minor spoiler: one character suffers puncture wounds to the back, chest, and face; drinks an overdose of a sleeping drug; and then chases and catches another character.) The evil was intentionally unpleasant, but a good tale would make the movie enjoyable. While I wanted to enjoy the fantasy, the fairy tale wasn't sufficiently coherent to make a movie I enjoyed.

Reading Garden State soundtrack (2007-01-19)

Today the Music from the Motion Picture Garden State that I ordered arrived in my PO Box. I'm disappointed to see that most of the songs have chords more complicated than the starter guitar chords I'm learning (A, D, E, F, G, Am, Dm, Em, Fm, G7, A7, D7, E7, C, and C7). This quarter I again signed up for the "Beginning Guitar For Adults" group lesson taught by Jack Dowdell from Half Note Studio at UW Experimental College. It appears I need a lot of practice if I want to play songs from Garden State.

At least now I have the correct lyrics to "Fair" by Remy Zero, even if I don't understand them. I still like the sound of the song.

Hey, are you lonely? Summer gone so slowly.
We've found the ground, and that damage is done.
It's cold as you fade into the sun.
Where'd you go? To me.

But you're alive. Well, it's only fallen frames, they told me.
You stand out so loud, and so what if it is?
It's cold as you face into the wind.
And where'd it go? Tonight the sun shall see its light.

So what if you catch me? Where would we land?
In somebody's life for taking his hands.
Sing to me hope as she's thrown on the stand.
All of our work is rated again. Where to go?

And you were somehow the rain this thing could allow.
I've tried, but it's all wrong. You're so strong,
and as life and work, the choice took far too long.
Where'd it go? Tonight the sun shall see its light.

So what if you catch me? Where would we land?
In somebody's life for taking his hands.
Sing to me hope as she's thrown on the stand.
All of our work is rated again.

And I was sure you'd follow through.
My world was turned so blue. (My world was turned so thin.)
When you'd hide, your songs would die, so I'd hide yours with mine.
All my words were bound to fail. Well, I know you won't fail.
See, I can tell.

Reading the curious incident of the dog in the night-time (2007-01-14)

"'...[Y]our father is really pacient [sic] but I'm not, I get cross, even though I don't mean to.'" --Mark Haddon, the curious incident of the dog in the night-time

None of the traits I've observed in people I know are anywhere near as upsetting as the behavior of Christopher Boone, the narrator of the curious incident of the dog in the night-time. An old letter from his mother describes this:

And Mr. Land was realy [sic] nice about it but there were boxes and bits of broken bowl on the floor and everyone was staring and I saw that you had wet yourself and I was so cross and I wanted to take you out of the shop but you wouldn't let me touch you and you just lay on the floor and screamed and banged your hands and feet on the floor and the maniger [sic] came and asked what the problem was and I was at the end of my tether and I had to pay for two broken mixers and we just had to wait until you stoped [sic] screaming.

The adults in Christopher's life act and react differently to his behavior. His mother was much less patient than his father, but his father later ends up apologizing and making amends. His mentor is the most admirable, explaining to Christopher the unwritten rules of social behavior--the "hidden curriculum"--in precise literal terms:

Siobhan understands. When she tells me not to do something she tells me exactly what it is that I am not allowed to do. And I like this.

Criticism of the book suggests that the narration is too self-aware for even a high-functioning autistic at Christopher's age. So the traits I've observed in people I know are much less upsetting than the symptoms of various disorders.

In fact--in years as an engineer, graduate student, or software developer--I've explained to significant others that I don't want them to take offense when I am in hack mode, a state of hyperfocus likened to ADHD characteristics. So I understand different ways of thinking that lead to social differences.

Nevertheless I got cross with former subconsultants and friends. I expected empathy, explanation of feelings, repairing of feelings, social time, mature social relating--expectations that may worsen social anxiety. I don't like my reaction; I'd rather have the patience of Siobhan.