Hiccups

We’ve often heard stories about the struggles of filmmaking, and how there would be setbacks during the production, including issues with the budget, the location, casting, scheduling, etc. Nothing ever seems to go smoothly, and it requires a great amount of time, resources, and energy to overcome all the obstacles along the way.

Similarly, when we’re focused on trying to get something done, there will usually be hiccups along the way. The hiccups can be minor or major, or they can add up overtime and snowball into something that can seem insurmountable.

They can be come from our own doing, such as when we procrastinate or overlook the minute, but very important details. When writing a book, for example, this can take the form of not writing often, or not developing the characters or the storyline thoroughly. In the end, this can result in inconsistent characters, or an incoherent plot.

Externally, hiccups can come from delays or unexpected events or obligations that come up during the day/week. We have no control over when they occur, and we can’t ignore them either. They must be addressed or else they will snowball and lead to other hiccups down the line.

The thing about creating and finishing any project, whether it is a film, a book or a DIY project, is that it is an adventure, similar to trekking down a hiking path that has unexpected twists and turns, and rocky and uneven trails. There will be times where you will get exhausted, get lost, or come across a wall or a dead end. You must adapt and be creative in finding solutions, or start over or backtrack to get on the right path. Thus, to reach the destination, it not only takes talent and knowledge, but perseverance and resourcefulness to get there.

Theories

In our lifetime, we’ll come up with various theories about the world. Theories about people, human nature, the universe, etc. Even though we might not publish or share them, they will have more value to us than the ones we’ve read or learned elsewhere. 

The theories we’ve read or learned are stored in our mind, catalogued and retrieved as a sort of talking point whenever they’re discussed or mentioned. They can be useful when we need them to be, but we’re quick to put them aside when they don’t have application anymore.

The theories we’ve developed overtime are a combination of both experience and reasoning, and they stay with us because they have relevance to our everyday life, and in how we function in the world. Even though we’ve learned and heard a lot of interesting theories in our lifetime, we don’t channel them through our actions unless we’ve adopted them, accepted them as if they were our own.

There have been times when we’ve been captivated by a theory, took it for a grain of salt. But it’s questionable how long that theory will stay with us. If we truly care about its validity and usefulness, we have to think about it deeply, see how it plays out in reality, evaluate its strengths and weaknesses, and analyze it until we truly understand it. And once we do so, we’ll improve our own understanding of the world and know that no theory is perfect. 

Notes

When we take notes for an academic class or for a meeting, it’s usually to help us recall what was discussed and to highlight important facts. It’s not something we hold on to dearly, for after the test or project, we discard the notes–forget about it as a sort of timestamp of the past.

But the notes we jot down for a book or a work of art have more meaning and importance to us. They were the blueprint for the creative work, the outpouring of our thoughts–a timestamp of our creative mind at work. We could look back at them months or years later and see how much we’ve grown, how much time and energy we put into what we created. They can be timeless for us, just as the paintings and books from the past still leave an impression on us today.

Even the though our notes might not be special to an outsider, they were instrumental in developing and fine-tuning the creative and intellectual abilities we have today.

Shortcut

I was returning from a day trip when the GPS alerted me to a shortcut that would save me approximately 15 minutes. I reluctantly took it, knowing from experience that GPS shortcuts can take you down a path that would make you think that you’re lost.

From the highway, I turned onto a narrow road that weaved through a forest. A truck was close behind me, and a storm had swept through the area not too long ago. Debris, leaves and branches littered the road. Driving over them, branches snapped and leaves rustled continously since they were in both lanes.

The shortcut was only a few miles long, and I was hoping for it to end soon, since I had been gripping the steering wheel tightly. The oncoming traffic would zoom by near the turns, and I couldn’t really see beyond thirty or a forty feet. With the road still wet from the storm, I drove cautiously, slowing down near the bends and wherever I saw puddles.

I was relieved when I had made it to the last mile of the shortcut. That was until I saw a police vehicle parked in the middle of the road. The officer stood in front of his vehicle holding traffic wands, and had on a reflective vest. The truck ahead of me began to make a sharp U-turn, and I sighed, knowing exactly what that meant.

The officer gestured with the traffic wands to turn around. I noticed the driver in the truck behind me shaking his head, visibly irritated by the bad news. I peered down the road past the police vehicle before making the U-turn, but couldn’t see what was blocking the road. Maybe a fallen tree? Maybe something further down the road–out of sight?

As I drove back the way I came, my GPS tried to reroute me back toward the roadblock. It was like it wouldn’t change its mind, didn’t want to give up on the original route. Clearly, it didn’t understand why everyone was turning around.

The drive back wasn’t as bad nor stressful as when I first drove down the road. I knew what to expect along the way, and there was a truck in front of me to serve as a sort of guide.

Along the way, I kept thinking about how easy and simple the highway would’ve been, how much time it would’ve saved if I hadn’t taken the shortcut. The GPS couldn’t have known of the roadblock if it was recent. If it had been updated earlier, it would’ve notified me for sure–redirected me to the next shortest route.

After getting back on the highway, the GPS took me on a new route–one that took me through a series of backroads and small towns where there was hardly any traffic. I drove past gorgeous pastures, farms and animals, and areas that were lush with vegetation and greenery. It was quite the opposite of the experience I had driving for most of the day: highways.

Highways can be fastest route to a destination, but it doesn’t really offer the same experience and adventure that an offbeat path would give us. Even though I lost time on the shortcut, I did get to experience a new adventure on the trip.

Returning Books

It’s a different feeling when you return a book to a library as oppose to a bookstore. When returning books to a library, it’s more like you tried them out, took a chance to see if you were interested in them or not. When you return a book to a bookstore, however, it’s as if there was something wrong with it, something that convinced you not to keep it.

Of course, when you return a book that you’ve purchased, it means that the book wasn’t worth the value you paid for it. You had spent a decent amount of time and energy to drive to the bookstore, to leaf through the pages, and bring it to the cashier to buy it. In keeping the book, it means it had some value, whether it was for enjoyment, or if it had some educational/informational value.

But to reach the point where you decided to return a book, it means that you no longer have any intention of reading it. It’s as if the book bored you to tears, or was so difficult to get through that it wasn’t worth the time or money you put in to buying it.

When returning books to the library, it’s not so bad, since you probably checked out a bunch of books to read. But if there’s a book in that pile that’s worth reading, a book that brought tremendous value to you, then returning it is a sad goodbye. You wish you could keep it instead.

In fact, you might drive to the bookstore afterwards to buy it, or at least, order it online. When a book has that kind of effect on you, you know that some books will stay with you forever.

Waking Up

After a nap, we wake up and think that it’s morning. We have to get up, get ready for work, maybe even make breakfast with coffee.

It’s bright outside, however. The clock says it’s 5 PM. The day hasn’t changed. It’s sunny in the afternoon, and only a couple of hours have passed since we last checked the clock.

How could a couple of hours of sleep shake and disrupt our mind so severely? What was so special about the dream?

Maybe nothing was special about it. Perhaps that nap restarted us, kind of like a computer reboot. It was as if more sleep was done in those couple of hours than in an eight-hour rest. Why is that?

Maybe our body is adjusted to those 7 or 8 hours of rest. It’s used to the timing of it: resting when it’s night, then waking up in the morning. But the two hour nap was unexpected, and happens when we’re exhausted, fatigued. That nap was needed, and it’s so reinvigorating that it was like we woke up on a brand new day.

Library

Is a library merely a housing place for books, or is it more than that?

When we think of the word library, we think of a place that holds books, media, newspapers, etc. It’s a place where people go to to check out books, to study, read, and to do research. But can’t we read or do research anywhere, say a coffee shop, our living room, and even our bedroom? And doesn’t technology allow us to have our own library in our tablet, cellphone, etc.?

A cellphone can certainly store plenty of books–books that take up no physical space. But a cellphone is tool for making phone calls, accessing apps, taking photos, texting, etc. Thus, a digital library on a cellphone is far from the primary function of the device. For some, a digital library can even seem nonessential compared to all of the other tools or apps they use on it.

What makes a library unique from the physical places aforementioned is that it calls on us to read. For example, our living room can be a place where we watch TV, play video games, listen to music, etc. Our bedroom is a place of sleep, rest. A coffeeshop is a place to drink coffee, eat, socialize, etc. But a library has little to do with these things with the exception of special events. A library, being filled and inundated with books and articles and magazines, invites us to open them and simply read.

Patterns

We see patterns in our everyday experience. We see them in nature, such as when the sun rises and falls, the seasons, physical laws, as well as in numbers–even down to our routines and schedules.

But what about patterns that are seemingly invisible to us? Patterns that aren’t exactly measurable or formulaic, but fit a somewhat general rule? For example, the patterns in the way we think, behave, and how we react to certain events. Even though these fit a general pattern, when we become aware of them, we can deviate from them–create new patterns apart from the old.

The same is true of many things like stories, art, sports, and chess. In stories, there are general rules for each genre, as well as in the story progression and story arcs. In art, a certain kind of composition and color pattern (i.e. complimentary colors) works well most of the time. In sports, there are certain plays and strategies that can lead to success. And in chess, there are patterns in positions, checkmates, openings, etc.

But the exciting part of life is discovering the patterns, or at least, applying our knowledge of previous ones to discover new ones. When we become familiar with the old, we look for new things to surprise us, to pique our interest. Because as a general rule, there are always more things to discover.

Insight

When we have an insight about something, we can’t explain it. It’s almost like a gut-feeling, or an intuition about something that’s hidden, hovering just beneath the surface.

But insights usually come and go. They don’t stay with us unless we act on them or give them credence. An insight can happen when we’re writing a book, when we’re studying a natural phenomenon, or when we we’ve discerned an unusual and mysterious pattern in our everyday world.

Insights can come out of nowhere–landing on a shoulder as if to whisper in our ear. When we hear that insight speak to us, it gives a clue to unlocking a mystery that we’ve been trying to solve.

But because we don’t understand it (or the source from which it came), we’re prone to dismiss it. But like knowledge that comes from a dream, an insight doesn’t always come in a neat package, but by sudden, spontaneous burst of magic.

Tangents

Tangents can lead us astray. They lead us down a series of seemingly random thoughts, and like cobwebs, they expand in all directions without rhyme or reason. Tangents can pull us away from our day-by-day routine, and take our mind down a road that’s obscure and dreamlike.

But tangents are not so random after all. They are products of our subconscious, inspiration tucked away and forgotten about. They exist to open our eyes to see things in new ways, to look at the familiar from a new perspective, an oblique angle.

Tangents help us to see new possibilities. They can flash in our mind like when we have that a-ha moment and make a discovery about something. They open doors, invite us to follow them to the unknown. But when our mind lands on a tangent, it’s so easy to shrug it off and think that it was just nothing.