Archive for June, 2010
What to Create
Jun 22nd
It is difficult to assess what people will enjoy. It is easy to incorrectly assume people will not enjoy a thing. The widespread hatred for twitter exemplifies that. People who have not used twitter ludly complain “I don’t want to know what you had for breakfast”, but if you got them to shut up and try it what would happen is that they’d realize they *do* want to know what you had for breakfast. It’s fun to read people’s not-all-that-meaningful tweets. Hourly comics are fun. Talk radio is fun, even though it’s just strangers running their mouth-holes. Killing hundreds of swamp rats to collect Rat Ears (that don’t drop two to a rat but more like one every third) to move a meaningless progress bar across the screen is fun. It’s easy to be a naysayer but if you’re doing that you’re wrong and you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you want to be a creator.
The Urge to Create
Jun 21st
People in first world cultures have a habit of making things. This can be discerned by looking around and observing all the stuff that has been made. This method, unfortunately, does not allow us to gauge the incidence of people not making things. They don’t leave evidence laying around proving they didn’t make things. However, I’m going to make an unfounded assumption and say that a very high percentage of people are in the habit of making things.
Why?
Several reasons come to mind: Initially that making things is rewarded. If you make something that people like that earns you attention and potentially money. That alone would be sufficient to explain the vast majority of observed things, but I’m going to continue making unfounded assumptions and assert that there are more reasons. The next reason that comes to mind is the desire to prove one’s worth. This overlaps somewhat with the previous reason but does not necessarily require an audience or the intent to an audience other than one’s self. There are also evolutionary biology reasons: it is well documented that animals of all types tend to engage in play that provides practice for their life skills. A naive mechanism that encourages such play could also encourage more intellectual creation in a civilized context.
I ask these questions because I myself have a rather powerful urge to create. It is why this post exists. I do not, however, have terribly much to say. I am a rather financially and socially well off nihilist. I have few desires or concerns other than maintaining the status quo, and even were the status quo to change I wouldn’t be too upset. This, ironically, is a system that at least points in the direction of establishing its own equilibrium. The desire to create coupled with a lack of message brings about a concern and a point of focus that I am quite comfortable rambling about. That is, ostensibly, the catalyst of art. Or it is, at least, a nucleus around which art is liable to condense.
Serial One: Page #2
Jun 10th
There was no need for me to do maintenance. The hangar was well enough outfitted that my ship could take care of itself automatically. Neither was there any need for me to give orders. An enemy force of unknown size approaching a small mining station could only be responded to in one way: muster every ounce of force you have and hope they are few enough you can take them. The soldiers here knew the drill.
Serial One: Page #1
Jun 8th
Lotsa baldheads. Not surprising. Not a lot of maskers, though. That part was more surprising. It’s hard to defend a comet with just baldheads. Whatever. It wasn’t my job to distribute troops. My job was to defend where they told me to with what troops they saw fit to provide.
An enemy force would be here in a few hours. Unfortunately the enemies had figured out a new way to scramble our sensors so we wouldn’t know what kinda force we were dealing with until they were on top of us.
The baldheads scrambled around the hangar, checking and reparing their gear. The maskers mostly just sat around near their ships and accellerator canons. The routine maintanence for the expensive gear was all automated, so there wasn’t much for them to do but wait.
As for me, well… I was a masker. The highest ranking soldier on the whole rock, but a masker nonetheless. When the battle started I would be flying my own personal interceptor: a ship substantially better outfitted than anything the grunts would have.