Babies

Babies are cute.
This universal truth is, or would seem to be, the basis of "Babies", a 2010 documentary made by French director Thomas Balmès. "Babies" follows four babies...

Ponijao, from Opuwo, Namibia

 

Mari, from Tokyo, Japan

Bayar, from Bayanchandmani, Mongolia
 

Hattie, from San Francisco, CA, USA

 

 

...as they embark on that great journey known as life. The film documents the first year of their lives, and, though they are extremely adorable, the overall impression--minus the cooing--is that of amazement at how radically different and yet similar each child and upbringing is. I, naturally, identified most with Hattie, who has an upper-middle-class American family and home, but all the children developed in noticeably similar ways, from the curiosity, the sleeping, the crying, the movement, and the adorableness. Gah. So cute. Anyway...

The film was basically entirely B-roll, or straight footage of the children interacting with their parents and environment. One might think this could get boring, but it was strangely fascinating to watch the children explore and learn (or just be really really cute). It was also very interesting to observe the different cultures shown, particularly the ones from rural areas, Namibia and Mongolia. Those children spent significantly more time outdoors, playing in the dirt, grass, and with random bits of wood and stone, and interacting with animals (which was often hilarious). Somehow their upbringing seemed much more peaceful than the Tokyo or San Francisco babies, whose environments, while fairly tranquil, couldn't compete with the wide open skies and plains shown in Namibia and Mongolia.

Since it was all basically the filmmaker passively observing the children, the astounding quality of the cinematography was the most striking aspect of the film. Simply put, it was beautiful. It was also all completely real, which was even more exciting. There was nothing staged, not even interviews. No one wore makeup, and no one dictated what was going to happen. It just happened. That kind of filmmaking excites me: completely true-to-life films that highlight the beauty of life instead of creating it.

...That being said, it might have been even more interesting had more things been explained. In a way, it was as though we were seeing the movie from the perspective of the babies, as nothing was explained to them, and they just had to watch and learn. And that was cool. However, I would've liked to know more about each baby's life than what I saw. I don't think it would've disrupted the flow too much just to have some text on the images giving some basic facts, or more basic facts than location and name. The situations of the Namibia and Mongolia children interested me specially, because I know absolutely nothing about either of those places, and about how life works there. But I was overall content, because...babies.

Admittedly, in order to enjoy this movie (which I did, whole-heartedly), you must like babies. I do not understand how one could not like babies, but apparently it is possible, and those sorts of people would probably not enjoy watching 79 minutes of babies. For everyone else--i.e., all normal and sane people--WATCH THIS MOVIE.

"Babies"

79 minutes

PG

The Mysteries of Handedness

Wikipedia defines handedness as "a human attribute defined by unequal distribution of fine motor skills between the left and right hands". Most people are either right- or left-handed. However, some have cross-dominance, which indicates a degree of versatility in each hand. Usually, a person favors one hand for certain activities and the other hand for others. Cross-dominance can also refer to mixed laterality, which refers to the side of the body favored.

Handedness fascinates me, largely because I'm cross-dominant. I write, throw, and paint my nails with my right hand, and, generally speaking, am right-handed. However, I am left-eye dominant, and use a riding crop and perform juggling tricks with my left hand. I kick equally well with both feet, but prefer being on the left side of the field (or anywhere else).

Types of Handedness

• right-handedness, the most common type (studies suggest 70-90% of the world population are right-handed)
• left-handedness, less common (about 10% of people)
• mixed-handedness/cross-dominance, difficult to say how common. Many people identify handedness by their writing hand, and therefore may not count themselves as mixed-handed; also, many left-handed people become mixed-handed by virtue of necessity in order to function in a right-handed world.
• ambidexterity, naturally exceptionally rare, though it can be learned. However, those who learn ambidexterity still tend to prefer their dominant hand.

Ambidexterity is perhaps the most famous type of cross-dominance. About 1% of people are ambidextrous. It's more common to find ambidextrous people who started off being left-handed, but learned to use their right hand equally well, either deliberately or as a result of societal pressure in schools and workplaces. Since many everyday items (can openers, scissors) are designed for right-handed people, left-handed people learn to use them right-handedly, and thus develop motor skills in their non-dominant hand much more than right-handed people, who are rarely forced to use their non-dominant hand. However, certain activities, such as typing, knitting, juggling, and percussion can help develop ambidexterity, as they require motor skills in both hands.

Theories of Handedness

The most common theory is division of labor, which states that since both motor control of speaking and handiwork require fine motor skills, it'd be more efficient to have the same hemisphere of the brain do both. Since, in most people, the left brain controls speaking, right-handedness would be much more common. (The brain hemispheres control the opposite side of the body). Objections to this theory include that the opposite is not true for left-handed people: in over 50% of left-handed people, the left brain controls speaking, and 25% of left-handed people use both sides equally. Another objection is that there is no explanation for why either side would be more likely to perform a certain function, though that problem is part of a more general inquiry as to why functions and organs display laterality, or preference for one side of the body or other.

There are also theories that imply that left-handedness, or anything not right-handedness, is a result of some sort of problem suffered before or at birth. Some statistics support this theory--difficult or stressful births seem to happen more commonly among babies that grow up to be non-right-handed--but there is no practical explanation for why this should be.

The "twins theory" suggests that all left-handed people were originally part of a set of identical twins, whose right-handed twin failed to develop. Though the "vanishing twin" theory may seem far-fetched, it is true that twins have a high frequency of right-handedness/left-handedness in the pair.

A newer theory looks at handedness differently. It suggests that handedness is not a simple preference, because the hands actually work together to accomplish tasks. For example, with writing, while the dominant hand writes, the other hand orients and grips the paper, and provides the context from which the dominant hand operates. Therefore, both hands are equally important, but one is specialized for fine movements, and the other for broad movements.

Which One's Better?

Probably neither. Most advantages/disadvantages of either hand are largely societal/cultural constructs, and most of popular psychology's notions of a type of handedness being more artsy/logical/etc. is probably false.

How-ev-er, there are certain correlations that have proven difficult to debunk. Left-handed people are often said to be more intelligent, more eloquent, and have better problem-solving skills than right-handed people. This is often attributed to their "wider range of thinking" given by the fact that they have a fuller use of both sides of their brains. A disproportionately high number of Nobel Prize winners are left-handed, and, of the past seven Presidents, four (Obama, HW Bush, Ford, and Clinton) were left-handed, and one (Reagan) was ambidextrous. The last time the US Presidential Election featured no left-handed candidates from a major political party was 1972.

But don't despair, righties. Lefties smudge their writing when they write. (In left-to-right languages, anyway).

Some Thoughts (and Rants) On Books; Snow Flower and the Secret Fan

I have decided to write book reviews for every book that I read outside of school. I love to read, and am sad that numerous things (including school, books we read for school, and life) keep me from reading everything I want to read (basically everything). (Although I would add that school does not keep me from reading, but rather forces me to do it more subtly, as I have a bad-but-unbreakable habit of reading during class). Some things I read on a regular basis include the newspaper (every morning, although lately it's been every afternoon), the New Yorker magazine (which I read cover-to-cover and quote frequently), poetry (particularly Andrea Gibson), and every type of book imaginable. In 8th grade, I started keeping a list of books I wanted to read. I couldn't bear the idea of not having anything to read. That list has now filled two notebooks and is well on its way to filling a third, so I don't think that will ever happen. I also currently have a pile of books. (I made a point of reading all the books on my bookshelf. It seems obvious that you'd have read the books on your bookshelf, but when I checked a couple years ago, to my surprise, I hadn't. I promptly took care of that). My pile of books includes books I got for my birthday (some on math, some on languages (another thing that fascinate me), some on theatre, some miscellaneous), books I got at a Worthy Cause yard-sale, and (mostly) books I got at a moving sale at the house of someone on my street. I went over and introduced myself. They asked what I might be interested in. I said old telephones (I collect them) and books. They showed me two huge boxes of books, and said, take what you want for free. Those are dangerous words to say to me, my friends. Dangerous words. I filled a grocery bag to the brim, and ended up needing to reinforce it with a second bag so it wouldn't rip under the weight.

(Though it isn't the point of this post, I would like to take a tangent train to nowhere for a moment and say that while I think I've made it obvious that I love books, you may be mistaken, and think I mean only the substance of books, namely stories or knowledge or whatnot. No. I love the entire book--the ink, the words, the meaning they hold, the pages, the spine that cracks slowly as you progress, the feeling of holding a world in your hands. Especially the feeling of holding a world in your hands. But you know what I don't love? Electronic books. Kindles and Nooks and whatever other stupid names they call them. While I naturally support the sharing of words, there is an experience involved with reading, and technology does not have a place in it. I hate e-readers. I loathe them. I DETEST THEM. GAHHHHHHHH. And accessibility--carrying numerous books at your fingertips--bah! That's what bookstores are for! I have a beautiful memory of one summer vacation when we were visiting family, colleges, and scenic areas in Oregon and Washington. I did not bring enough reading material to fill my time and wandering mind. You know what I did? I went to bookstores, and looked at new arrivals and bestsellers, and got tips from a clerk (which turned out to be a terrible idea, as the resulting book was incredibly depressing, but regardless). When I finished that book, I got suggestions and borrowed from my family in Seattle. Books traverse boundaries. They are common bonds. They are something we can unite on, and discuss, and love. But they are a community effort, in the finding and sharing and giving and loving and understanding and teaching, and e-readers can't touch that. Or at least they better not. It's depressing enough when everyone on the Metro is on their iPhones or whatever, but if the smattering of newspapers and New Yorkers and real, live, actual books disappear, I don't know what I'll do. Probably open a bookstore. New future job, right there. Sorry this is such a long tangent. I HATE E-READERS).

Anyway...

One of the books I got at the yard sale was "Snow Flower and the Secret Fan", by Lisa See. It is a noval set in the 19th century, about two Chinese girls named Lily and Snow Flower, who become a laotong pair--two girls bonded together for eternity as kindred sisters, or "old-sames". Together, they progress through such cultural practices as foot-binding, marriage ceremonies, and the production (or lack thereof) of sons, who determined a woman's worth in society. They also learned, and communicated in, a secret phonetic language called nu shu, which was developed so women could have a way of communicating without the knowledge of men, who might've seen their messages as improper and unladylike.

This book interested me primarily because of the historical and cultural perspectives and information given. I knew (and know) very little about Chinese culture and history beyond the meager overview given in 6th grade. The culture, practices, and values were and are very different from those recognized in the United States today. Certain things, like the footbinding and marriage ceremonies, were interesting purely because I knew nothing about them. (The footbinding was graphic and disgusting, largely because it actually happened). Others, like the recognized values, were somewhat disturbing. A woman's worth was based on her ability to produce sons. What else? That's it. She should be obedient, quiet, and fulfill her duties as a woman. Kindness, sympathy, and love had nothing to do with anything. Footbinding was given as an example of a woman's "mother love" (the characters for which phrase, by the way, mean "love" and "pain"). The footbinding was because the mother loved her child. Pain is required for beauty, and beauty for status, and status for the unborn sons. Gahhh. In the end--though I won't give away the ending--the protagonist (Lily)'s inability to recognize and portray these qualities (kindness, sympathy, love) end in disaster. You can't really blame her--after all, it is not something her society promotes. However, you don't want to not blame her, because she does not behave nicely.

To be honest, I didn't particularly like the book. I'm glad I read it, because it was interesting and I learned things I didn't know and probably wouldn't have sought out to learn, but I'm not going to give it a stamp of approval. Which isn't to say you shouldn't read it. But...don't blame me.

Down the Rabbit Hole

Last Tuesday, at 7pm, Blair students (including myself, Ravyn, Natalie, and Conor) presented "Down the Rabbit Hole", a collection of one-act plays directed by Maya Davis and Clare Lefebure. The evening was a rousing success, and lots of fun for both the actors and the audience.

I was in a one-act called "Variations on the Death of Trotsky", which was comprised of eight short scenes on how Trotsky's death might have gone. According to the one-act (and verified by Wikipedia), on August 20, 1940, a Spanish communist named Ramon Mercader smashed a mountain-climber's axe into Trotsky's skull in Coyoacan, a suburb of Mexico City. Trotsky died the next day. The eight scenes showed Trotsky's discovery of the axe in his head (aided by his long-suffering wife) and subsequent acceptance of his death. Since there were eight variations, and each required Trotsky to die at the end, the directors decided to split the stage, and have two Trotskys and two Mrs. Trotskys each do four variations. Variations 1, 3, 5, and 7 were performed by Nick Byron as Trotsky and me as Mrs. Trotsky, and 2, 4, 6, and 8 were performed by Ben Lickerman as Trotsky and Ravyn as Mrs. Trotsky. Conor, as Ramon Mercader, walked between the two couples as needed.

This was my first experience in the one-acts, as well as my first experience on the Blair stage, and it was very enjoyable. I've been seeing Maya and Clare in shows since I was in 5th grade, and I admire them both very much, so it was extremely cool getting to work with them on the one-acts. My next Blair theatre project is "Taming of the Shrew/The Tamer Tamed", for which rehearsals started last Wednesday, and which will be performed at the end of January/beginning of February. I'm playing Hortensio, which is going to be a challenge in several ways. First, I have a fair number of lines, which is both terribly exciting and somewhat frightening, as learning lines--especially Shakespeare--isn't easy. Second, I'm playing a man: I used to play men a lot when I was younger, but haven't played one in about a year and a half, and have certainly never played a man whose characterization mattered this much, and I anticipate the physicality requiring some amount of work on my part. However, since I'm really excited about this show and determined to do well in it, I am choosing to see these challenges as opportunities.

Sorry. Got a little off-track there. More about the one-acts! We had tech for the week prior to the performance, but, following the informality associated with the one-acts, it was not particularly intense. On the one hand, that was pretty nice; on the other, I would've liked to have had a little more preparation with costumes, props, lighting, etc--we didn't get costumes until the day before the show, we got several props the day of, and we didn't rehearse the proper lighting until the actual show. The audience didn't really notice, and it didn't present much of a problem, but it gave me more anxiety than I think was absolutely necessary. I bought knee-high nylons for my costume an hour before the show, practiced flipping open the hand-held makeup mirror with one hand for the first time right before we went on, and did not realize how absolutely pitch-black the audience was until I was actually saying lines out to the audience. It is like looking into a black hole. Also, the Trotskys had never practiced with the "axe-heads" (headbands with plastic knives attached to them, to look like they had weapons in their skulls) or with the classic Trotsky beard and mustache, and both lost their mustaches and axeheads at least once if not several times.

Nevertheless, the one-acts were terrific. Brief overview:

"Bedtime": about two little girls discussing God, "forever", death, and the apocalypse at bedtime. Performed by Mikayla Cleary and Sarah Wilson.

"Laundry and Bourbon": a hilarious and sad one-act featuring a couple of Southern women folding laundry, drinking bourbon, watching TV, and gossiping, in the heat of a summer afternoon. Performed by Natalie Behrends, Mia Massimino, and Anabel Milton.

"Funeral Parlor": an eccentric man comforts a grieving widow at the reception following a funeral. Performed by Peter McNally and Laura Kennedy-Long.

"Ron Bobby Had Too Big a Heart": when prom doesn't go as planned, two girls get revenge. Performed by Emma Bergman and Meg Lebow.

"Variations on the Death of Trotsky": variations...on the death of Trotsky. Performed by Nick Byron, Ben Lickerman, Zoe Johnson, Ravyn Malatesta, and Conor James.

"The Boy Who Ate the Moon": a boy comes to a doctor's office with a rather unusual problem: he has eaten the moon. Performed by Sam Dembling and Calley Mayer-Marks.

"The Philadelphia": a man is stuck in a state of being called a 'Philadelphia' where he can get anything except what he wants. Hey, we're all got to be somewhere. Performed by Aaron Posner, Alex Michell, and Dana Cook.

The Cure

"The government has created a perfect society. Through Citizens United to Revitalize Equality, or C.U.R.E., no citizen goes hungry: if citizens are struggling in any way with money, unemployment, or disease, the government provides food for them via N.U.R.S.E. Nancy, or Network Used to Ration Supplementary Eatables. A suffering family will receive a visit from a Nurse Nancy within the week. If they are ill, the food is enhanced with medical spray. The standard of living has reached an unprecedented high. Every citizen is healthy. Every citizen is equal. Every citizen is happy.

Except for one. Jess’s parents were on C.U.R.E. for over a year. Now they are dead. In terror, Jess runs. She meets Anna, a Nurse Nancy who has begun to question the food aid she has been distributing. Together, they must somehow untangle the web of government secrets to learn the truth about the C.U.R.E., and what is really happening to their citizens."

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This is our Dystopian Trailer Project, created by myself, Ravyn, Esther, and Song-Binh over the past month or so. We've had lots of fun and many adventures, which took us from school to Value Village to my house to the editing suite, and then to another computer when our computer literally died. The development of the story and subsequently the trailer was really cool to watch and experience: from our first story idea, which was terrible, to the final color-correcting and music-editing touches, we've learned a lot. We hope you enjoy the trailer.

Capture the Fall

Two hours on a Sunday morning. Gorgeous day--65 degrees and sunny. Perfect for wandering around my neighborhood and Sligo Creek with a camera in hand. So that's what I did. Used Windows Live Movie Maker and Free Music Archives. Pretty simple. Pretty fun. 

Election Day Joys

Everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

Obama was re-elected President. Maryland citizens passed the Dream Act. Maryland, Washington, and Maine have granted all citizens the right to marry. Minnesota citizens struck down a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. In Massachusetts, Elizabeth Warren was elected Senator. In Virginia, Tim Kaine was elected Senator. The list of victories goes on.

Maryland approving same-sex marriage was probably the most exciting and stressful part for me, because that was the election I was most invested in. Over the past two months, I've gone canvassing four times, in addition to electioneering at voting areas, because granting equality to all Maryland citizens under the law was and is very important to me. Both canvassing and electioneering aren't as awkward as one might think they would be, but they certainly are exhausting. Walking around neighborhoods talking to people for four or five hours at a time wasn't easy, but it was rewarding, both in the results of the election and in the responses I got from people. I canvassed mainly in liberal areas--Silver Spring, Bethesda, Glenmont--and talked to some very nice people. I'm introverted, but I like people, and I like meeting new people, particularly people who are excited about the same issues as me. The vast majority of people were supportive, and those who weren't were usually polite about it. On a whole, people don't slam doors in your face, and the one person who lectured me about sinful acts did so with a smile on her face, in a condescending voice. I got the feeling she thought she was teaching me good, wholesome life lessons, that maybe she could change this young person's mind and save me from the devil. Sorry. It didn't work.

(That's a lie. I'm not sorry).

Canvassing also ended up being a good bonding experience for me and my mom. The first time I went, they partnered me up with a nice woman who had gone canvassing before, but the second time I was by my lonesome self. Since I can't drive, I took the Metro out to my canvassing area, before realizing that I didn't have enough money to get home. I canvassed for five hours, then called my parents to pick me up. I got a cup of ice water from a couple of nice ladies who were doing something in their garage, and then sat on the curb for forty-five minutes talking to my sister on the phone. After this experience, my mom didn't want me to go canvassing alone, so she came with me, which was lovely. I don't get to spend enough time with my mom, and canvassing, in the sheer amount of walking, provides great conversational time. The first time, when we were in Bethesda, I did most of the talking, and my mom offered the people literature about the issue; the second time, I was tired and made my mom do the talking, which luckily she saw as me forcing her to confront her shyness and talk to strangers, as opposed to me just being lazy.

I also signed up to volunteer at voting areas on Election Day. This meant that I arrived at Kennedy HS at 6:20 in the morning to give the election judge a piece of paper that meant I was certified by Marylands for Marriage Equality to be at the voting area, giving out material and talking to voters. According to the rules, I was not allowed to enter the voting area itself, but I was welcome to stand outside, and catch whatever people I could. So that's what I did.

The fun part about electioneering is that you can be as obnoxious as you want: while I tried not to annoy people, and didn't interrogate or talk with anyone who clearly wanted to be left alone, I did my best to be as loud, cheerful, and direct as possible. When someone approaching the entrance was within ten or fifteen feet of me, I called out, "Hello, [ma'am/sir]! Please vote *for* Question 6 in order to support marriage equality!" and gave them literature (a leaflet with quotes from people (including Democrats and Republicans, religious leaders, and Michelle Obama) detailing why marriage equality should be approved. Regardless of what they said (or didn't say--some people just ignored me entirely), I'd say, "Thank you for your support [ma'am/sir], have a lovely day." In my head, I referred to it as practicing relentless cheerfulness and optimism. I don't know how effective electioneering is: most people come to the voting area with their votes figured out, or make snap decisions based on values. There were certainly people that I handed literature to who said, "Vote for Question 6?...Okay." These seemingly opinionless people are the probably the voters who made a difference: if a large part of people really wanted equality to pass, and a large part really didn't, the ones in between were the ones we had to sway.

This isn't to say I didn't meet people with strong opinions, but rather that I really couldn't tell which way the election was going to go. As one voter put it, we were "cautiously optimistic" about our chances, but the opinions I got from people were split just about down the 52-48 percent lines. One guy high-fived me. Several people expressed their excitement about it, and their hopes for its passage. People thanked me for coming out and supporting it, and for doing what was best for my country. A very nice lesbian couple gave me hugs.

But not everyone was rainbows (heh) and sunshine. When I asked people to vote for Question 6, people looked furious. "No", "Of course not", and "Certainly not" were common responses. One man pulled his wife closer to him and put his arm around her, as if to protect her from me and all the other crazies out there. One African woman with a thick accent ranted "No! Question 6 is no!" Her friend asked her which one Question 6 was. She answered, "Homosexuals marrying!" and continued muttering unhappily under her breath, darting angry glances at me as she walked up the steps. In general, the people saying no were middle-aged or (more often) elderly, and either wealthy whites, immigrants with thick accents, or very religious Christians. One elderly African-American woman with a cross around her neck spoke to me kindly, explaining that it just wasn't Biblical. I smiled, and told her to have a nice day. She told me to "take care, sweetie."

Other than her, the nicest person who was against Question 6 was a woman in her thirties who reminded me of Jennifer Garner in that she was very pretty, with soft, wavy brown hair, and looked like an extremely kind lady. Some people just look nice. She told me very sweetly that she didn't feel she could support it. I didn't really mind responses like that. My least favorite person, however, was an elderly man who, after hearing my pitch, turned around, glared me in the eye, and said--or, rather, spat--that it was the "most repulsive thing" he'd ever heard of. I had a couple of knee-jerk responses to that, none of which I said out loud (I thanked him for his opinion, and told him to have a nice day). My first thought was, "Don't hurt yourself, honey." He was clearly very old, perhaps in his 80s, and it seemed that the force of his hatred for me and the issue might break him. That much hatred can't be good for you. I wonder if anyone's ever done a study on the effect of bigotry on the heart. It's probably a leading cause of heart attacks. My second thought was, "You must be incredibly sheltered if loving couples getting married is the most repulsive thing you've ever heard of." Even if you don't think it's "Biblical", or if you consider it sodomy, what about war? What about poverty? What about starvation and genocide and mass rapings? You're clearly unconcerned with human rights and equality, but can gay people getting married really be more repulsive than the millions of people who have died in combat, who continue to die in combat, for no good reason? If you want to direct hatred against something--and, again, I don't think hatred is healthy, but whatever--direct it against a worse sin than love. Regardless of your opinions on it, murder and suffering should really be much more repulsive to you than love.

My last thought to that man was one of sadness, that he may not get a chance to reverse his beliefs, to be on the right side of history. Fifty years from now, this is no longer going to be an issue. My grandchildren will look at people like that man the way we look at 19th-century racists and slave-owners, marvelling at their stubbornness and irrational hatred, wondering how anyone could be so intolerant of something so ordinary. That man will be an emblem of bigotry. Did he deserve that? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he's just following what his parents told him when he was little. It's just a shame that they were wrong. A lot of people brought their children to the voting area, to show them what was going on, what 'civic duty' entails. One of the women who ignored me entirely was holding the hand of an adorable little girl with a pink knit hat designed to look like a pig. It made me sad to think what was being put in her precious little head, beneath her precious little hat. But, with any luck, she will be growing up in a country that embraces equality. Even her parents can't ruin that.

We made history on Tuesday. But there's still a lot of history left.