Snow days are movie days

You know how I'd said it was kind of interesting that most of the time I've spent in Canada has been warm and sunny? Well the weather gods must have had a change of heart because this morning we woke up to snow. It's been coming down all day, though it doesn't seem that much of it is sticking. The flakes are big and soft and wet. It's pretty, and arguably more Canadian than the balmy upper-40s we've been experiencing lately.

Last night a bunch of us went out dancing at a local bar. I think the last time I did that was the night before Verity left McLeod Ganj, so I was well overdue. You know it's been a good night when you get home with your feet aching and your ears ringing. The DJ was so-so; I did hear some Nine Inch Nails, but other than that it wasn't anything I was familiar with. The rest of our party seemed to be more up on the hip-hop scene, so I think they enjoyed it. Regardless, a fun time was had by all. Brij definitely stole the show with his sweet moves and leopard-print shirt he'd had made back in Dharamsala. I mean really... how do you top that?

This morning Brij's mom invited me out to see a movie. It sounded like fun and I average about one movie in the theater per year, so off we went...

... to the local Rialto Theatre.

We saw the movie Philomena, which I'd never heard of but stars Judi Dench and Mita said all of her friends who'd seen it gave it rave reviews. I actually love watching movies where I have no idea what to expect; you can really get lost in the story (assuming it's well-made), and you don't go in with expectations. I also have a weakness for true stories -- there's something inherently moving about watching a film and pausing for a moment to think "wow... this really happened." It makes some movies, like Blood Diamond or Django Unchained (I know, I know.. not entirely historically accurate, but enough of it was that I had to turn it off halfway through), more difficult to watch, but in general I dig it.

That being said, if you also like story-driven movies based on true events and high regard for Dame Judi Dench and/or a dubious view of the Catholic church on top of it, you'll probably enjoy this one.

As for the rest of the evening, I think I'll stay in and knit.

Home at Last

Well, I'm home.

Delhi wasn't so bad after all, and thanks to the very kind, very helpful people running AMA Guest House in Majnu ka Tilla, I got to the airport with time to spare. Indian airport security is, in my opinion, quite a bit more lax than American. I'm not complaining; let's just say I'm not a fan of the TSA. Maybe it's statements like this that get me singled out all the time at the airport? Regardless, Indian security is, in my opinion, sufficient without being invasive.

I got to my gate early and decided to take a walk to the end of the terminal since I'd be sitting for quite a while in the near future. When I came back, there were a couple members of airport personnel setting up a queue in front of the gate for additional security screening, and a western woman who had just finished speaking with them was making her way toward seats out in the terminal. I followed her and sat down in the same area; she complimented the chupa I was wearing and we got to talking. As it turns out, she's a fiber artist! She lives in Texas and, over the course of the next hour and a half or so, we had a nice little talk about our adventures in India and in fabric artistry back home. She even has a friend named Magda, so she had no trouble pronouncing (or remembering) my name.

It got closer to boarding time and we made our way through the second security screen of the evening. I guess it was supposed to be stricter because we were headed into the US, but they didn't give either of us any trouble.

Long story short, I had a 15-hour flight from Delhi to Newark. On it I sat by the window; seated next to me was a very friendly Canadian couple who were impressed at my choice of first destination outside the States.

I slept for much of it, just as I'd done the last time I traveled between countries. Just as I'd done before, I woke up as we were flying over Greenland. Since the plane left around midnight and we were flying west, the entire trip was made in darkness. I lifted the shade on the window hoping there might be some moonlight on the ice or something, because the sight of Greenland had been so striking the first time I saw it. Instead I was greeted by a cloudless sky and, incredibly, by stars. Orion floated just outside my window, crisp and clear. It was as though I could reach out and touch him. I've flown more than a few times in my life, but never before have I seen anything like I saw the other night up there. I sat and stared at my celestial companion and let myself get lost in the feeling of oneness with the sky.

I alternated between napping, chatting with the Canadians, and watching a few episodes of Twin Peaks on my laptop (I haven't finished it yet! Don't tell me what happens!!). Eventually we touched down in Newark.

Now, I was not aware that I was going to have to go through customs between my connecting flights. I thought I'd have to do that at O'Hare, when my trip ended. Nope. I had to sit and wait at baggage for my suitcase, recheck it so it would follow me to Chicago, make my way through customs, go through security again, figure out which gate my plane was at, and then race there (it's kind of a big airport) all in an hour.

I just missed it; they had just closed the door. The lady told me "the flight is closed" or some such nonsense and even though I pleaded with her, saying that I'd just gotten off my other flight and got there as fast as I possibly could, she was unsympathetic and directed me toward the customer service desk 3 gates down.

At this point I'd been basically traveling for two days straight. I was sweaty from rushing around and I was so close to being able to just chill at home, and now I was stuck.

I was also, however, in the US and so I could text message from my phone again. I got in touch with my parents and also started mentally making a contingency plan if I had to stay in the general area for more than a couple of hours.

The line was long and so tortuously slow it was like I was being made to watch a Will Ferrell movie or something -- I thought it would never end. Eventually I did get to the front and I did my best to be polite even though I just wanted to kick and whine and slap somebody. I was sure my bag was on its way to Chicago and, with my luck, it'd be lost or buried in a closet or something by the time I got there.

To my surprise, the lady handed me a boarding pass and told me I'd better hurry, because my new flight was leaving in fifteen minutes and it was a few gates down. Stunned, I stared at it a moment before uttering a thank you and racing off back down the hall.

So basically, everything turned out alright. My dad even told me later that his alarm hadn't woken him up on time so it was really no problem at all that I arrived an hour later than I originally should have. I thought for sure for a while there that I was going to be stranded "so close and yet so far" for at least a day.

I got home, though, and spent the day with family. Today some friends who may as well be family came to visit, I hung out with my dad, and I plotted and planned all the things I'm going to do now that I'm back here. I should be getting my sewing machine back from being tuned up (thanks, Mom!) any day now, so I can start sewing again. My Etsy store is open again, and I plan on adding quite a bit to it in the coming weeks. If you are in need of any kind of vinyl decals or wall art, let me know! I did go to art school, you know, and custom orders are always fun. Plus, as I was reminded as soon as I stepped off the plane in the States... Xmas is on its way. Support your local independent artists!

Embrace your true nature

I love video games.

No, really. I love video games. I don't play as much as I used to, and even in the past I didn't play as much as some people I've known. Still, I've been realizing over the last few months just how big a role they've played in my life. Earlier today I rewarded myself for a very productive morning by watching a movie. As I like to do, I chose one I knew nothing about: Wreck It Ralph.

Come on, doesn't this movie look like SO MUCH FUN??

Somehow this animated gem had eluded my attention until it was sent to me on a jump drive as a possible movie to pass along to my students so they could practice their English listening skills. It's not my first choice as far as that, just because I think they might have some trouble with the content – not much frame of reference for monks and nomads when talking about arcade games – but you'd better believe I had a good time. I think it might be one of my new favorites. It's got everything I love: an underdog as the protagonist, pretty graphics, a fun soundtrack, clever storytelling, and lots and lots of nostalgia. Brilliant! This, combined with the fact that about a month ago I was struck with inspiration for a game-inspired business venture that I'd like to test when I get home, got me thinking:

For as much as I really do enjoy the raw simplicity of living here in India, in a place where animals freely roam the streets, where you do your laundry in a bucket, where the power goes out at least once a day and people just go about their lives..... the technical wonder that is the world of video games really does hold a special place in my heart. I love the adventure, the intrigue, the chance to be anyone... and I suppose yes, you could argue that I am actually doing those things right now, “IRL,” but I guess there's a part of me that is still enchanted by the shiny packaging no matter how hard I sometimes want to believe otherwise. I mean come on, I'm also a belly dancer; you can't deny a penchant for glitz & sparkle is part of that. I love to perform. I love beauty. I'm an artist, dammit, and the four right chords can make me cry. Life itself is beautiful, yes... but sometimes, as the late, great Dave Scheidecker helped me argue in my OO freshman year, we need art not just for art's sake but for ours.

I have historically gone through bouts of feeling like my only gift was an eye for art, and art is ultimately superfluous, and therefore I couldn't offer anything useful to the world. One person in particular took it upon himself to valiantly try to convince me otherwise some years back, but I always had my doubts that art really is genuinely important. Or rather, I feel like when other people do it it can be amazing and inspiring, but my own work somehow always falls short.

Then again, that's part of being an artist. You're always your own worst critic.

I think I may finally be ready to embrace that part of myself. I went to college for a degree in Game Art & Design and dropped out after I decided I didn't want to sit in front of a computer all day (and that it would take an ungodly amount of hours outside of class to develop enough skill to be truly great at my work). “Games,” I thought, “are frivolous. We don't need them. When the power goes out, what good have I done?” Art doesn't keep you warm, it doesn't feed you. It's not practical. I should learn to build something instead, or maybe I should learn something medical. I should apprentice and get a technical job, maybe learn to build solar panels or repair wind turbines. That stuff is useful. Right?

I've tried a variety of those things, and I keep coming back to art. Art is what makes me happy. Creation is where I feel at home. Finding beauty in the world and then finding a way to express it so everyone else can see it too is what makes me feel alive. I still don't particularly want to become a game developer (although since I've discovered Steam and since Steam has rolled out their Green Light initiative, I do consider it now and then), but I think if I can find a way to let games back into my every day life, into my own creativity, I might be better off. And you know what? Maybe it's true that games and art and dance and all the other beautiful, fun things in the world don't truly change anything, but if they make us happy for a while and you indulge responsibly – as with any other potentially addictive but otherwise harmless activity – is it really so useless? Someone has to bring beauty to those who can't find it themselves, and why shouldn't that someone be me?

I still have dreams of introducing a responsible waste disposal system to India, and of course I'd love to see freedom for Tibet... I enjoy teaching and knowing that I am directly affecting people's lives in a way that could truly change the course of their futures. Maybe I'll keep doing that too. I need art for my own happiness, though, and if the simple act of watching a well-done animated film about vintage arcade games can literally bring me to tears, if my mind wanders during a lecture and all I can think about for days afterward is an as-yet-secret-project that is also very directly related to game culture, if every so often I can't rest until I've drawn my own version of an NPC because I think the devs dropped the ball on making that one boss as terrifying as she should have been... and especially if something I do can also bring beauty and happiness to someone else, and especially if that someone else is willing to spend some cash to get it, then why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I embrace my geekiness, embrace the fact that I'm a gamer kid at heart even if I don't actually spend many hours with a controller anymore, and see if I can make a living off of bringing joy to others like myself?

For some of us, games are not just a fun activity to do at parties with friends. They aren't (always) a waste of time. For some of us, games are a part of who we are. I've felt guilty about it and I've tried to deny it, but I've had some time for introspection since I've been here, away from everyone and everything I've ever known, and one of the things I've come to understand is that maybe it's just part of who I am. There has to be a balance, of course, but maybe the world of video games is not as superfluous and unnecessary as I was once convinced. Maybe it's a tool, a stepping stone on which to be inspired to create even more art and beauty and community. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

My name is Magda Ksiazak, and I am a gamer. I'm an artist, a dreamer, and a creator. I'm through letting people, society, and my own self-consciousness tell me it's immature and something to hide, and I'm going to make it work for me. There is a whole community of us out there, and I think I'm ready to be proud to be a part of it.

Game on, my friends.