New Pokémon Snap
First of all, I don’t like everything that I write about on this website. But since this is a website about all the things I’m into, I tend to write more positively than not.
So, you can guess what I’m about to write about New Pokémon Snap.
If anyone was looking for the original game with a graphical overhaul, this was it. And, for fans of the original, that’s all they ever wanted. It’s a lovely game. Pick a level, look around with your camera, snap photos, and marvel at the world of Pokémon. If that sounds enticing to you, then this game is everything you’d want it to be.
The game functions with a photo assessment algorithm that grades your shots. This algorithm obviously doesn’t account for Avant Garde images (like a Tyrannitar’s face filling half of a photo, a melancholy night background blurred for a moody atmosphere—yeah, this tends not to score well), and so there’s some discrepancy with what photos generate high scores. To me, this opens the door for a fun take on DLC. Suppose there was a “Post-Editing” mode that allowed for different scores, points for style and filters, and additional Pokémon poses; to me, that would round out some of the limitations of the photography system.
Then again, this isn’t a game celebrating the art of photography as much as it is a safari through the world of Pokémon.
You pay what you get for.
And $60 goes a long way in this case.
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Masterclass Therapy
I subscribe to the service primarily for therapy. Masterclass offers courses from some the world’s most famous and revered in their fields (including many of my favorite writers such as David Mamet, Aaron Sorkin, Salman Rushdie, Neil Gaiman, and David Sedaris). For me, sitting through these courses isn’t so much about instruction for any particular craft as much as it is a firm reminder that, “Hey, there are people like me out there.”
There’s a common message through the majority of courses I’ve watched and that is: to keep true to yourself and the process.
This is harder than it sounds because there’s no roadmap, no reference guide to YOU. To become yourself requires something else, something undefined and undiscovered, which is paradoxically exciting and grounds for giving up.
I’ve never met people who look as competent as they are on Masterclass, but man do I feel better after watching them. And if that isn’t the point of therapy, I don’t know what is. I feel like I can do what they do. True or not, I think the illusion is more meaningful than the reality.
Like a magic trick: I don’t need to know how its done to enjoy it.
And I do love magic.
Every once in a while, a new course pops up that grabs my interest. At the start of the year, it was Matthew Walker’s “Science of Sleep” course (spoiler: we don’t get enough, and “sleeping in” doesn’t actually help). Then, there was Jon Kabat-Zinn’s “Mindfulness and Meditation” course, which was beneficial for recognizing why the mind and body respond to stress the way it does.
As of two weeks ago, there was David Carson’s “Graphic Design” course.
Since starting this website, designing logos and graphics has become a passion I never knew I had. Watching David Carson’s Masterclass affirmed much of the same lessons as other instructors: to dig deeper into who you are, never mind the outside world or the litany of instruction guides, and go through the process of figuring out what you want to say.
Like this website.
I don’t think this website is there yet. It’s a nice extension of thought, but it isn’t complete.
I think more experimentation is on the way.
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The Easy Years
I wrote the following in my journal over the past week. I don’t usually share things directly from it, but I thought it was worth sharing something a bit more personal than usual.
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I’ve caught up with most of the podcast Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend, another outlet used for personal therapy. David Spade was a recent guest and the two reminisced about their time on Saturday Night Live. David’s memories were about how difficult it was, that there wasn’t direction or mentorship (really), and he had to either sink or swim. He thought, along with just about everyone who has ever been on that show, that he was most assuredly failing, that Lorne Michaels would pull him aside and relay the news that he had been fired. I guess it has happened enough to warrant true fear. But David’s point was that this blitzkrieg of experiences led to his toughening up, that he was better off when he was done with SNL.
I agree that the hard years likely pay off, but I’ve been so trapped in my current lifestyle of constant struggle that I wonder if the “easier” times are ever coming. I’ve never experienced such a thing, even when I’ve had summers and summers of little to no job or responsibility.
Perhaps it was all a bad cocktail. All those years of lacking responsibility (no job, tons of free time to try new things, and master the ones I cared about) were full of deeply rooted mental hurdles. I couldn’t sleep at night, most of my days were spent in comparison (“I’ll never be as good as Aaron Sorkin, f*$*%!”), and a back catalogue of teenage memories and experiences only exacerbated a time of my life that should have been freed up for discovery and exploration.
I guess without those crutches I might have enjoyed that period of no work and no expectations. Now that I’m beyond some of the self-hatred, I realize I’m 32 and able to finally get started. It isn’t any easier, the job is still the same – figure out what the hell is going on – but with the added pressure from the Clock’s hands. I already know the solution is that I’ll never truly know what’s really going on (oh, the wisdom I’ve struggled for), but the hardships of molding any semblance of career, or love life, or purpose has been the epitome of teaching an old dog new tricks.
There’s a reason we pine for the war years. It wasn’t because it was easier, it was because of the promise of youth. Being older, it feels like hope is fading, or just beginning to. All the potential, of the things I thought I would become – either believed or imagined – is starting to blur on the canvas. The lines aren’t as sharp, the colors blander than they ought to be, and I don’t understand what I’m looking at half the time. I still see me, but Picasso might as well have painted it.
And it’s hard to appreciate a Picasso if you weren’t brought up on it.
I guess there are always Art Appreciation courses. Right?
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Hoping everyone is as well as they can be. You’re not alone out there,
