Stuff and things (and memes)

Some stuff and things I've been doing, consuming, thinking, meming, and such

Jan 19, 2024

Dear hopeful reader,

I didn’t know how to title today’s post except as “Stuff and things,”1 being reminded of this accidentally hilarious scene in The Walking Dead, then being reminded of the stuff and thangs memes that people started making and sharing online. I remember chuckling to them quite a bit at the time, and also repeating the words with Rick Grimes’ famous sexy Southern drawl. My goodness—that was ages ago; it was a simpler time, too.

But this post isn’t about The Walking Dead, but I made you look—or maybe remember—still all the same, didn’t I? It’s just all the stuff and thaaangs I’ve been doing, consuming, and thinking these days. Some stuff might resonate with you, some things you might get intrigued about, for others you might think, “Nadia, you should leave Substack immediatement!” Well, that’s all right. At least, I hope I won’t leave you unaffected.

What I have been watching

Killers of the Flower Moon

I’m ashamed to say besides Killers of the Flower Moon, I’ve only ever watched Shutter Island, The Departed, The Aviator, The Age of Innocence, and Gangs of New York by Martin Scorsese. Or, I think I remember doing that. (I have chicken memory, okay?!)

Nadia, how did you not yet watch The Irishman, Goodfellas, The Wolf of Wall Street, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, et cetera, et cetera? What the heck is wrong with you? you tap out of this post, distraught. My only excuse is, there’s so much to watch and I only ever want to rewatch Tommy Wiseau’s The Room and the American version of The Office. But I digress.

Killers of the Flower Moon is a masterpiece visually, technically, and narratively. It’s slow-paced yet doesn’t feel overwhelmingly long-winded. Every scene feels critical and revealing, like sunrise morning prayers of the Osage people, or the exposition of the Tulsa race massacre against the mysterious killings of the tribe—effectively showing the repetition of history, the fathomless loss and burial of a culture through sheer greed and inhumanity.

What impressed me the most about the film was how Lily Gladstone carried her role as Mollie, being a diabetic at a time the disease could kill while slowly being poisoned by someone she trusted, experiencing all the anger and grief of losing her family, her tribe. Her visceral, vociferous screams of mourning and rage shook everything and everyone possible, even the roots of the earth, the angels above.

I could resonate with her while never experiencing her suffering. That’s how powerfully it all translated on-screen. But I’ll tell you this: grieving while being chronically ill is next-level. You feel it with every molecule of your being, and you get even sicker—until you learn to balance both experiences.

What I have been playing

Vampyr

Don’t Nod are known for their Life is Strange games in which everyday people go through real-life challenges while reconciling with their newly gained superhuman abilities, and the difficult choices they make affect their lives and that of those around them. The outcomes either way may or may not be reassuring.

But Don’t Nod have created a wonderfully versatile body of work, including charmingly differing video games such as Jusant, Remember Me, and the forthcoming Banishers: Ghosts of New Eden. Of them all the sublime oddball for me is Vampyr.

It released in 2018, but I played it the first time in 2019—one year before the pandemic struck us and transformed our lives forever more. I remember being so sick with strep—while being so chronically sick already—that winter, yet it weirdly held me together as I scaredly screaming explored the topics of vampirism, epidemic, healthcare, and discrimination all set in London of 1918.

In my delirious state, I didn’t quite understand the impact of my experience then. It hit me different in 2024. More lucid, I could deeply feel the dilemma of being an ethical doctor while resorting to drinking human blood to survive by Jonathan Emmet Reid, the protagonist stricken by the curse of vampirism. I could more clearly see boroughs’ communal health state changing, influenced by people’s deaths or vanishings and how other neighborhoods evolved or devolved.

I played Vampyr on normal mode this time, the game becoming more challenging, somewhat frustrating, yet highly rewarding. Also gaining experience became more of a grind, so sometimes, I resorted to drinking others’ blood for more XP. I drank blood of an abysmally melancholic boy, but also that of a serial murderer. Neither times felt right as it destroyed other characters’ lives, but at least with the psycho killer’s death, there was some retributive justice.

Of all the video games I’ve played in which choices influence how the experience continues and ends, such as Telltale’s The Walking Dead, Detroit: Become Human by Quantic Dream, Supermassive Games’ titles, and even Don’t Nod’s own properties, Vampyr wins in this criterion—change my mind.

I experienced profound malaise and plight in my decisions. No choice ever felt right or righteous. As I affected someone’s life positively, someone else suffered as a result. Accepting the consequences was excruciating in itself. It’s like in real life; we make choices that make us feel guilty and regretful that we have to live with until the end of our time. All we can do is learn from them for the future.

What I have been reading

The Creative Gene

Hideo Kojima is one of my most beloved video game designers whose creative, experiential, cinematic games always leave me with wonder, reflection, and longing, especially Death Stranding which I wrote on or mentioned or talked someone’s ear off many a time—here, there, in the ether.

Naturally I had to read The Creative Gene, which is a compilation of Kojima-san’s essays on books, movies, and music that inspired his work. He shares bits and pieces of life in Japan, his life, his longings. He shares other artists and auteurs’ memes.

A meme, in how Hideo conceptualizes it, is a knowledge passed on from one generation to the next, a baton of sorts if you will. Each piece of art has insight and wisdom to impart, and he collected many invaluable, distinctive works that impacted his life and creativity, that he hopes will live on for generations to come.

One of my favorite passages from The Creative Gene is:

The sad truth is that, whether translated or written by Japanese authors, unconventional stories set in foreign countries do not currently sell. What are popular are novels of the ordinary, of the commonplace, of the current times—stories in which anyone can immerse themselves. That wasn’t true for our generation. By reading translated stories, we made efforts to understand unfamiliar worlds, cultures, and ideologies. We learned an intellectual excitement for the unknown, because that is what would expose us to new worlds.

Each part of our world is rich in history, culture, sageness, and enchantment, and much of it has yet to be unveiled. We can consume what makes us feel the familiar and comfort. But it’s in discomfort and novelty we challenge ourselves and change for the better and connect with others in a meaningful way.

What song has been stuck in my head

Lost at Sea

If you’ve ever played Alan Wake I and Alan Wake II, you know of the importance music has in storytelling, expanding further on the lore and the heroes and villains within the Alan Wake world. For AW II, Remedy created an even richer, more riveting universe with music playing an even more significant role in answering only some of the questions that haven’t been answered throughout the gameplay.

Every chapter’s ending often suspenseful and intense is rewarded with a song, a curious player and fan pauses to listen and take in. And—oh my—that was so me, even when I consumed the many variations of that one looping song, looking for all the buried clues in the pulling and pushing soundscapes, losing and finding myself in its beginnings and endings.

But the song that has been looping in my mind lately is “Lost at Sea.” It’s surreally delightful and unsettling, a dichotomy that makes absolute sense in the AW universe and its (un)realities. Listening to it I want to both dance and drown—metaphorically speaking, of course.

The music is content and serene, the lyrics strange and uneasy, but I’m in sync with it, even with the subtle twisted warble here and there. When the chorus words “Is that a lighthouse with a dying light? / Or a reflection of my glowing eyes? / Am I a monster of the deep?” are heard for the last time, I just want to give myself to the calm and chaos of the ocean.

Being a short song only two-minutes long with words that capture and enrapture, it’s sure to loop you on repeat in its dreamy grasp. As such:

I’m waking up to my own scrеam
Lynch catching fish is a recurring theme
Afraid that wading to thе shore, it was just a dream

What I have been baking

Pavlova

Inspired by my dear mama making her gorgeously delicious-looking pavlova, I decided to attempt one myself. Did I know what journey in baking I would get myself into? Would I have ventured if I did? No to the first question. Probably no to the second too. But, it has been quite an interesting revelation and unraveling!

If this silly, loose recipe is any indication, I don’t do instructions—especially exact portions—in food preparation, where in other aspects of my existence I may be more meticulous and precise. I feel things out visually and intuitively, so understandably, baking a pavlova has been a painful experience of reconfiguring myself.

For the first try I was so defiant I used most of all the wrong ingredients and proportions. More tries ended in frustration, waste, sometimes tears. I would bake raw pavlovas, overbaked ones, my poor husband and I being guinea pigs to the tasting every time. Nevertheless I gradually learned what ingredients to add in, what to remove, and how much. I kept getting closer to the ideal.

After 10+ tries, I’m happy to report my last pavlovas have been great successes. The first successful one melted in the mouth like a cloud, the latest one was both crispy and chewy, sticking to teeth in pure delight.

Through this experiment I learned to be more flexible to rigidness, as nonsensical as that may sound. Then I learned how to safely break away in my own way. More importantly I learned to have fun in the process even if the result would be lacking.

I also learned to further welcome critique from my husband who told me what was amiss with every tasting. By not giving up on this mad project I became more determined and confident, which helped me in other areas of my life.

As ugly as the shape is, the two-story pavlova above is still my pride and joy. When I’ll get stronger physically, I’ll make a whole-ass tower next. Come party and have a pavlova coma with me!

What I have been thinking about

Relationships and communication

I use Facebook only for messaging my parents, but I have to at least glance at the main page of the site on my desktop to get to the messenger. Sometimes a quotation like this one pops up on my timeline:

It’s supposed to be inspirational, and most people commenting agree with the sentiment and how empowering it is to walk away from assholes without explanations. You know what you did, I don’t need to explain myself to you! they think to themselves while slamming the invisible door.

But I’m going to disagree with the method to a degree. It’s immature, juvenile, and causes confusion and pain. We’re grown people and should be grown in our communication approach. I’m including myself here too; I’m still a human and still learning to be better.

Granted, with certain people you need to protect your mental and/or physical state. If someone manipulates you, plays mind games with you, blatantly lies to you, disrespects your boundaries, jeopardizes your safety, time and again, it’s more than fair to leave any way you please, never looking back, if you feel safe to do so. More than likely, they gain pleasure out of your suffering and don’t care about your feelings and well-being. Why must you continue caring about them?

However if you’re in an otherwise healthy relationship, but you both misinterpreted each other, it’s better to clarify what either of you meant, talk it out, and come to a mutually satisfying compromise—or learn to accept your differences.

How many times have I misunderstood my husband in the ten years we have been together? I don’t have enough fingers to count. But I know we could have divorced ten times over by now if we didn’t both make any effort to communicate and compromise.

All I’m saying is that fights more often than not happen due to miscommunication and everyone deserves another chance, except the cacas of course. How audacious of you to teach me about maturity and the proper way to communicate while using the word cacas, you think to yourself, baffled and vexed. Well, I didn’t say I was mature!

Who inspired me

Cindy Mullins

I don’t have much of anything eloquent to say except Cindy Mullins is a hero and an inspiration for being so courageous, perseverant, and enlivened in her unfortunate health situation. If she has enough faith and strength that she can manage in her new way of being, there’s hope for us yet—whatever struggles we face.

“If this brings salvation to someone’s life, that’s what I want.”

— Cindy Mullins

What have you been stuffing your heart, mind, and soul with and thin(g)king about lately? What’s your favorite meme, whatever that means to you?

Yours hopefully,

Nadia

A tip for me? Why thank you!