Morning games

I have a certain daily routine that I follow for the most part when I get up each day. There's breakfast to be made and eaten and washing-up afterward, and all of the other odd household chores that nag at me for my attention. But when they're done and I have some time to myself, I sit down with my laptop and open Wordle; after Wordle come Spelling Bee, Digits, and finally Connections. These games are all found under the Games section of The New York Times, for which I have a digital subscription. I have become a devotee of these games and look forward to new ones each day. Wordle is an online word game in which players are given six attempts to guess a five-letter word. Everyone has heard about Wordle; Josh Wardle, who created it for his partner, sold it to The New York Times for a low-seven figure sum. There are Wordle chat forums and AI chatbots that will analyze your moves for you after you have finished. Spelling Bee is a word puzzle game that challenges players to form words using a set of seven letters; these letters are arranged in a honeycomb with the center letter highlighted in yellow. The center letter must be used in all words formed and all words must be four letters or more. The game offers Hints to players, informing them of how many total words there are for that day, how many pangrams, and what the first letters are for the words in question. It would be a much more difficult game without the Hints, but of course that's the challenge. Even with the Hints, it can be a tough nut to crack. So there is something about reaching the rank of 'Genius' in Spelling Bee that floats my boat, likewise for Digits, a daily math puzzle game where you can use any combination of numbers to reach the target number. There are five daily target numbers to reach. It's fun and challenging and not as easy as one might think. And finally there is the game Connections (currently in beta form); it presents players with sixteen words that have to be grouped into four groups according to similarity/commonality, e.g. names of colleges or types of vegetables. 

I've learned that the best thing to do when I get stuck at any point is to take a break and come back after an hour or so. For some reason that always helps. Apparently there are millions of people each day who play these games and I understand why. They're fun, and they draw on one's vocabulary and/or ability to be brain-flexible. Sometimes I find myself really 'reaching' to come up with words in Spelling Bee or Wordle, but that's the fun part--meeting the challenge. 

Exploring connections and the Southern Reach trilogy

I'm currently reading the Southern Reach Trilogy by Jeff VanderMeer, which consists of three books--Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance. I read Annihilation after I had seen the film of the same name directed by Alex Garland, who has admitted that when he made Annihilation, he was influenced by the film Stalker, which was directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, who in turn was influenced by the book Roadside Picnic written by Arkady Strugatsky and Boris Strugatsky. These types of connections are what I enjoy so much about the creative world; there's a kind of flow from one genre or creative art form into another. Sometimes that flow is successful, sometimes not. But it doesn't matter to me, what matters is that the author, filmmaker, or songwriter took a risk, stepped out of his or her comfort zone. That's what matters, in the end. There will always be people who love what you did, and those who didn't. Some will even hate the finished product. Does it really matter? Life goes on, creativity goes on, the flow goes on. As an artist, you know that you will have touched someone's soul, and that someone will remember that touch for life. I know that's true for me. I can list up books that I read as a teenager that touched my life forever; the stories have stayed with me for so long, that's how powerful the writing was. 

Authority is the weakest book in VanderMeer's trilogy, but I understand why he wrote it. He wanted us to really get to know Control, the new director of the Southern Reach. Control is a troubled soul, a middle-aged man who really doesn't know what he wants. He's a loner for starters, the son of a domineering mother and an artistic father. His mother is part of the organization, Central, that Control works for. His mother pulls a lot of strings, including for him. You could almost say that she is the puppeteer and he the marionette. They have a strange relationship, very difficult to define. The book is difficult to categorize overall, but it has its creepy, hair-raising moments. As I wrote in my review of the book on Goodreads: 

There are whole passages in Authority that are downright creepy, e.g., when Control discovers what Whitby has been doing and where he has been doing it. The description of his meeting in the 'secret room' with Whitby will make your hair stand on end. Or when the building wall dissolves, and the former director shows up. I live for those moments in these kinds of books. VanderMeer has a way of building up the anticipation of something bad that's going to happen, even if it doesn't at exactly that time, as when Control visits the director's house. But you know disaster is coming. When he writes like that, this book is at its best. But there are also whole sections that are too drawn-out; I suppose VanderMeer wanted to enforce the idea that Control was a pawn in Central's bureaucratic game (and in his mother's as well). But this means that there are long descriptions of bureaucracy and chain of command, and of events that are illogical at best, e.g. why Lowry was the Voice. But in a place like Southern Reach, it would perhaps be hard to expect anything but irrationality and chaos. VanderMeer is a very good writer, but the book could have been shorter without losing any of the 'atmosphere'. I am currently reading Acceptance and hope that the mystery of Area X is explained satisfactorily. 

After I finish reading Acceptance, I will read Roadside Picnic. I'm looking forward to reading the book that led to the films Stalker and Annihilation. And after that I will watch a few more Alex Garland films, although I've already seen 28 Days Later and Ex Machina, both of which are excellent. If you haven't seen them, I recommend them highly. 

Moments and connections

This past weekend was a ‘moments’ weekend, where something I read or heard triggered memories of my parents and my childhood. At mass this morning, something the priest said must have unconsciously triggered a memory of my mother, and all of a sudden it was almost as though I could feel her standing in the aisle beside me. Going to mass together was one of the things we used to like to do when I visited her in Tarrytown during the 1990s. I remember sitting in the church with her, singing the hymns that she liked, and hearing her sniffle when something in the hymn touched a nerve that made her tear up. Now, fifteen years after her death, I cannot sing those hymns without the same thing happening to me because they remind me of her. Perhaps those hymns reminded her of her own mother. I thought of how tightly I am connected to my mother, that the bond between mother and child is so strong, stronger than death. That’s a comforting thought, not a sad one.

Later on, when I was standing in the kitchen cutting up a pumpkin to prepare puree, I remembered how much my mother loved the autumn, how much energy it gave her for new projects. I was feeling that way the entire weekend. Whenever I have worked in the garden, I have felt her presence as well, and that is no surprise since she loved planting her own garden in the spring. A small flower garden, but one she was very proud of and that looked so lovely each year. She planted morning glories at the base of the lampposts so that they would have a post to climb as they grew. She planted a trellis on the side of the apartment building we lived in, and grew red roses there. And she ordered her tulip bulbs from Holland each year from a catalog company I don’t remember the name of. Whenever I hear the birds in my own garden, I am reminded of my mother’s love of birds. She would watch them from our kitchen window as they gathered in the dogwood tree outside the window, and during the winter she made sure they had enough food.

I think of my father too, when I am sitting at the dinner table with my husband and we are discussing different world situations. It reminds me of all the times I sat with my father after dinner and discussed the state of the world with him. That was when I was growing up in the 1970s. In the 1980s, when I was working in Manhattan, I would sometimes meet him for lunch since he worked there as well, and we would wander over to St. Francis of Assisi church on West 31st Street. I seem to remember that the church had a bookstore/gift shop then, and we would purchase a book or two and look forward to discussing them after we had read them. I checked the church’s website but could not find any mention of the bookstore, so perhaps it no longer exists or perhaps my memory is faulty. My father and I bonded over books and faith, and they led to spiritual and intellectual discussions that buoyed me through my teenage years.  He was my link to the outside world and to the work world. He died over thirty years ago, a lifetime in so many respects. Yet that connection too remains strong.

Books are the portals that allow me to connect to my parents. I remember them individually and together. I was closest to my father when I was a teenager, and when he died, I grew very close to my mother. As a child, I remember them as a couple, sitting together in the evening reading their individual books. Before my father’s health diminished him, he would sometimes tease my mother or chase her around the dining room table. That vision sticks in my mind—that they had their happy moments in the middle of their trying times, mostly due to my father’s poor health. His health is what I remember most as I neared my twenties; I can see my mother walking with him after he had his first stroke, helping him cross the street to the church so he could attend mass with her. She never wavered in her care of him. She took care of her blind mother before she met my father, and then my father and us children after her marriage. It is her faith, loyalty and devotion that stand out in my mind to this day. She had the strength and courage to live her life the way she felt it should be lived. She found grace in the small things; she did not seek the limelight nor would she have been comfortable there. The older I get, when I think about who are the heroes in my life, they are my parents. Their lives were far from perfect, but their faith in God and in each other did not disappear. No matter what private doubts they may have had from time to time, they stayed true to each other and to us. That is all that matters in this life. Nothing else—not worldly glory or fame or money. What matters to me is that the connection to my parents remains strong even though they are no longer physically alive. But they are very much alive in my heart and soul.

Smart phones, not-so-smart people

Today’s Aftenposten newspaper ran an article about the use of smart phones here in Norway. According to the article, 57% of Norwegians over the age of 16 have a smart phone, 93% of all Norwegians have internet access, and nearly three million Norwegians use Facebook (TNS Gallup statistics). But the article didn’t focus on the usage statistics; it focused on the growing addiction of smart phone owners to their phones. One of the managers at the National Theater was interviewed, and she meant that the addiction was becoming a problem for the theater because the users were looking at their phones throughout performances and disturbing the people around them because the light from the phone is so bright. I quote her (translated from Norwegian): ‘We have had nights where so many people in the audience have had their phones on during the performance that it could have been New Year's Eve’. I call this the height of rudeness.

The advances in computer and phone technology just during the past ten years have been pretty amazing. I understand the fascination with all things new; I also understand how important it is to keep up with the pace of modern technologies. If you don’t, you’ll end up lost and exiled to the outskirts of modern society. I do feel sorry sometimes for elderly people who haven’t kept up or who haven’t had the chance to keep up—who may feel overwhelmed and confused and who wish the world was still as it was thirty or even twenty years ago. But it’s not. I want to keep up and I have kept up. We are fast approaching a world where most ordinary things we do will happen online—from banking to shopping to trip reservations as well as a myriad of other things. It is already that way to a large extent. I don’t have a problem with any of this. I love banking online, for example. We have two laptop computers at home, I just bought an iPad2, we bought a big flat screen TV a few years ago, and I own a top-quality digital SLR camera that I use quite often. I don’t own a smart phone, however, and am not sure I will buy one now that I have the iPad.

However, as much as I use and love all the new gadgets available, I also know when to put them aside for the most part. I know I am not addicted to any of my gadgets, although I can overdo it a bit at times with snapping photos. I do on occasion use a lot of time on my laptop; especially during the evenings when I use it to pursue my writing and photo projects. What I can’t understand is the point of being on Facebook for hours at a time or of sending hundreds of text messages or emails. So I can’t really relate to the addiction problem. I can go to the movies, the opera, the theater, or out to a restaurant and leave my cell phone at home. It has happened. I don’t miss it. I usually have it with me, but when I am together with others, it’s off or silenced, ditto for being in a theater. I don’t need to be constantly conversing with other people, on buses, trains, boats or planes. I don’t walk behind other people and make them nervous by chatting on phones they don’t see. When that happens to me I feel like I am being followed by crazy people talking to themselves. I don’t need to check my emails constantly, so I don’t need to be online constantly. I write this blog but I don’t need to check it constantly either. And as time goes on, I know that I will organize the free time I treasure even more optimally than I manage to now. That will be because I don’t want to spend all my free time writing on a computer or connected to some gadget, updating the world constantly about where I am, what I am doing, or who I am together with. That is because I value my private time and my private life. There are many things that no one else except those closest to me will be privy to. That’s the way I want it.

I find it sad, apropos this newspaper article, that so many people are living online rather than experiencing the ‘now’. The now is all we have. Think of what they’re missing. I would rather be together in person with a friend and enjoying an evening talking and relaxing, without having to check my phone every ten minutes. It’s rude to do that—that’s the way I grew up. I can hear my mother’s voice in my head saying something to that effect. I have seen enough people sitting together at a restaurant table, and each of them was texting messages to friends or family that were not there with them, ignoring the others at the table. More rudeness. I attend professional meetings that are constantly interrupted by emails and phone calls. It is difficult to pick up the thread and to go forward with the meetings after four or five of these kinds of interruptions. I’ve been to lectures where many in the audience are using their laptops and smart phones to check their emails and/or to edit their own lectures or reports. It’s become a brave, new, rude, socially-unintelligent world, despite all the gadgets that can socially connect us and which should be used intelligently. I would always choose the personal connection over the gadget or social media connection. I appreciate what the latter have made possible for me, the ex-pat who lives across the pond from her country of birth, in terms of keeping in touch with family and friends, but give me the in-person experience of being together with them any day.