Trip to Dallas

About a month ago, my sister called and mentioned that she wanted to attend the Dallas Comic Con at the Dallas Convention Center on her birthday. And personally, I was thrilled; since my dad and sister share the same birthday, we thought it'd be a great event to indulge alongside the collected geekery of thousands of fans, endless aisles of collectors' items and committed cosplay enthusiasts. Unfortunately, our dad was less than elated; we mentioned the exhibit hall full of vendors, the aforementioned die-hard fans, and the science fiction celebrity panels, and he passively agreed to come. To sweeten the deal, we mentioned going to Medieval Times, and his spirits perked a little; he'd never been there but heard a lot of good things about it via Jim Carrey's blockbuster hit The Cable Guy (1996). Please don't watch The Cable Guy to understand that reference; I don't want to be held responsible for wasting anyone's time and money. And since I planned the event, I wanted to visit the Dallas World Aquarium, because I like animals. Initially, I thought there would be too much walking for one day since we planned to attend the aquarium on the same day as comic con, with Medieval Times scheduled on the previous night, but my sister turned down my back-up plan of watching Godzilla in IMAX 3D claiming, and I quote, 'I don't want to watch that, it looks stupid.'

So with a few weeks to spare and majority of my paycheck spent on reservations and tickets, I eagerly awaited our two day, whirlwind trip, and in hindsight, it did not disappoint.

I worked on the previous night, and after a short power nap, my dad arrived at my apartment to follow my sister into Dallas, where he lied and said I could sleep on the ride to the hotel. Admittedly, he doesn't have the best eye sight to watch my sister's car and look out for the cars around him, but he lied and I think he should be held accountable for his actions. Every time I closed my eyes or there was a tired, silent pause, he'd mention one of our many childhood trips across the state. And even throughout my angsty childhood adolescence, I could only recall fond memories of shifting through the sands on the beaches of Galveston or touring through old battleships in Corpus Christi. And despite being the closest and one of the most well-known metropolitans in the country, we hardly ever visited Dallas; maybe it's just a Fort Worth complex. But as the skyline along the horizon slowly developed into skyscrapers and concrete canyons before our very own eyes, it was hard not to view the city as something big and foreign and grand; it was Dallas, and we had arrived.
 

When we checked into the Hotel Indigo of Dallas, I was kept awake by fumes and excitement. Originally known as the Dallas Hilton, the hotel was built in 1925, and it was the first hotel to bear the Hilton name. Alongside its once proud heritage, it's been renovated and changed ownerships several times withstanding periods of neglect, disarray and the great depression. Currently, it's been restored with quaint rooms, bright pastel colors, and an open bar with friendly service. Also, it was cheap and across the street from a parking garage. Our hotel room had a chic dorm room charm with hardwood floors, a desk, television and two polka dotted couches facing a small coffee table; the adjoining bedroom had its own television and a small bathroom with a shower. In most regards, it was small but pleasant, and for the first few minutes, we shared stories as we finished the Italian cream cake that my sister stashed away from the previous night. We exchanged presents; I bought them both ukuleles with tuners and carrying cases, and my sister instantly started playing with it. Since we had some time before Medieval Times, my sister said that I should take a nap in the bedroom while they practiced with their new toys, and as I closed the bedroom door and laid down on the soft bed, amassed within the several small pillows that accumulated near the head of the bed, my sister continued to play with her ukulele and I couldn't get a minute of sleep. She later said that she tried to soothe me to sleep, which would have sounded cuter if she was like ten or something.
 

At first we were a little concerned that we wouldn't be able to find Medieval Times so we printed out directions and typed its address into the GPS systems, but it's actually really hard to miss a large white castle with ivy shrouded towers from the highway, and we arrived about an hour early, just as the school and tour buses unloaded in the parking lot. If you're not familiar with Medieval Times, it's a restaurant chain inside a castle-like structure with a medieval-style tournament and customary feast. Also, it's expensive. On the draw bridge, we presented our reservation slips, and we were given a few small cards with our seat numbers and the colors of our knight. Inside, we were presented our color coordinated crowns and ushered into the great hall, which primarily consisted of a large central gift shop with two open bars flanked on either side. We wandered around for a few minutes; some guests waited in line for pictures with the king and princess while others gawked at fully armored suits and weapons that were for sale. Besides looking at the horses through Plexiglas and metal bars, we primarily talked outside in the smoking section next to the falcon pen. The bar offered a wide assortment of mixed drinks, and to my surprise, they had Angry Orchard, my favorite brand of hard apple cider. Believe it or not, hard apple cider tastes best in a cold, overpriced glass goblet, especially if it's blue; I know from experience.
 

Before long, the arena doors opened, and we were ushered to our seats in the front row near the center of the arena. And whether or not you’re a fan of the show, you have to admit that it’s quite a production. Within the opening minutes, the stadium became dark and mist brewed along the arena floor before a large white stallion frolicked along the ring as the narrator explained the event’s prestigious backstory. They introduced the king and princess, and we cheered as the strong, noble knights trotted to their respected colored sections. We were in the black and white knight’s section, and I don’t want to seem racist or historically inaccurate, but our knight was black, and I think all black knights are bad asses. Throughout the beginning of the event, the horses stole the show with their grace and poise as they trampled through the mist covered arena, performing gallant trots and ambitious leaps across the air. Next the falcon displayed his guile as he swooped through the audience, and I could literally feel the breath of his wings as he whipped past my head. As the event felt like it was slowly winding down, a thin black net descended around the arena, and shit got real. After the soft preview of the knights lancing metal rings and a friendly relay on horseback, the tournament ended with jousting and a combination of melee weapons from swords, axes and flails. Unfortunately, we all kind of knew it was rigged, and despite the hard blows and several sparks clashing from sword to sword, it all felt like a heavily staged wrestling match with weapons. And despite how hard a certain group cheered for their knight (the middle school band section literally screamed and chanted for the blue knight to get up and keep fighting), we all kind of knew it wasn’t going to happen. Ultimately, it was a great show, especially when you consider that they perform twice a day, and despite being staged, they held nothing back; you could hear every lance shatter throughout the jousting event and feel every hard blow deflected from a knights’ shield. It was full contact, and after the event, I’m sure they left several kids dreaming to be knights someday.

Also, the food was great. It was all finger food, and I accidently lost my napkin midway through the program so I felt a little disgusting until they handed out moist towelettes at the very end, but that's hardly their fault. And they apparently had an alternative vegetarian menu, which was probably just more soup, bread and potatoes, but it’s good that it’s an option; I’m sure most vegetarians would have just starved in the real medieval times.

Afterwards, I was pooped, and after a few beers we were off to bed. According to the confirmation email, Travelocity claimed that the hotel would provide three beds, whether standard beds with mattresses or pullout beds from couches. Fortunately, our room came with one standard bed and two pullout beds; unfortunately, there wasn’t enough space in the hotel room to pullout both beds at the same time. But there were two of them; I’ll give them that. And even as I laid on my fairly comfortable couch that could be a bed but for the sake of space remained a couch, I still couldn’t sleep. Around 2:00am we turned off the television after watching halfway through Jerry Maguire and around 6:30am the sun came up. Instead of closing the blinds and going back to bed like a sane, rational person, my dad started singing happy birthday to himself until we eventually turned on the television and watched About a Boy until my sister woke up around 11:00am. It was bound to be a long day.
 

Located in the West End Historic District of Downtown Dallas, the Dallas World Aquarium houses an eclectic variety of animals inside a renovated warehouse built in 1924. Despite its compact, one block perimeter, the aquarium offered the best indoor ecological experience I’ve ever seen with its lush flora and wide selection of animals from free roaming birds on tree tops to creatures dwelling beneath the bottom of the oceans; even the pathway leading into the ticket counter had kids running and bustling about to see the different types of birds and mammals. And there were a lot of kids. For some reason, I usually underestimate the amount of children that will hysterically run amuck through large zoos and museums, but at the time, I figured the aquarium wouldn’t be busy since it was a school day. Unfortunately, I didn’t take account for field trips. There must have been at least five different field trips at the aquarium that day, and despite all of its greatness, I’m sure the aquarium’s entrance would have been disorienting without the swarm of children. After you pay for the tickets, you’re given a map, and I think the best thing to do with the map would be to not look at it until you’re out of the aquarium. With its multi-level pathways, colorful pictures and detailed descriptions of several different animals, the map works best as a free souvenir, something for the kids to look at on the way home. Start from the top and work your way down, go slow and loop back if you miss anything; in the canopy, there’s really only one pathway, and it slowly descends onto the ground floor and weaves into the depths of the aquarium’s large fish tanks. Also, there are penguins; don’t miss the penguins.
 

On the top floor, we immediately became immersed in the lush green hues of varied plants and trees and felt overwhelmed by the manmade waterfall that rushed onto the small river several flights below; there were free roaming birds and monkeys on tree tops and large, bloated manatees and two slowly hanging sloths. Everything felt active and alive, and every inch of the aquarium possessed something unique and fascinating if you just took the time to look for it. Except at the giant otter enclosure. Admittedly, my sister and I are otter enthusiasts, and they’re easily one of our favorite animals at the zoo. Unfortunately, we could not find the giant otter; we dipped our heads below the water tank and scoured the land for any hiding places. After a few minutes, we moved along to the fish exhibit and ventured through the shark infested aquarium tunnel and past the island of small and often sleepy penguins, but before we left aquarium, we needed to see the otter. The enclosure still appeared empty on our second attempt, and after a while, we walked up a different level in hopes of seeing him at a different angle. And right when we were peered down at his enclosure, we saw him swimming about in the water pool. We rushed down as fast as we could, just in time to see him pace a few more laps as we frantically tried to take pictures of him, but he just refused to stay still. After a while, our venture was complete and we thoroughly explored the Dallas World Aquarium, including the gift shop. Zoos and museums have the best gift shops. And they even had a nice, little restaurant where my dad consumed a tall glass of margarita and proclaimed that he could drink and look out over the forest all day long.
 

With just a couple hours before Comic Con opened, we were exhausted and retreated back to the hotel room to refresh ourselves with coffee and indolence. And after we spent a few minutes sprawled out on the couch, basking in the small pleasantries of idleness and air conditioning, we were off to our next adventure.

If you're unfamiliar with the Dallas Comic Con, it's the three day event that celebrates the vast facets of science fiction from comic book creators to actors from well-known science fiction movies and television shows. Since its creation, the convention has been held at smaller venues throughout the metroplex, but with its recent change in management, it was the first time the event was held at the Dallas Convention Center. Top billings for this year's event included Stan Lee, William Shatner, and several cast members from Firefly, Star Trek: The Next Generation, and The Walking Dead. And from the moment that we heard about it, my sister and I were stoked. Unfortunately, my sister could only attend one day, and we were slightly disappointed with the limited panels and Q & A sessions held on its opening day, with the assumption that most fans attended the event on Saturday and Sunday. Still, it was the first time at a science fiction convention, and we were excited about the prospect of it being unexpected, and it did not disappoint.

Since we weren't familiar about where to park or enter the convention center, we primarily relied on the small herd of fans wearing science fiction t-shirts and guests dressed as zombies. Clearly if you're dressed as a zombie, you have to have some general idea on where you're going; it's not like they were going to go grocery shopping or meeting a few friends at a coffee shop. As we crossed the street and headed up the elevator, I thought our vague little plan was working; we past a few standard super heroes and batman clad in a wedding dress, which signified that we plainly had the right building, but we still didn't know where we going. Unfortunately, it wasn't a perfect plan; after following the crowd to the exhibit hall, we were told at the door to retrieve our wrist bands at the ticket hall after we presented our advance tickets. And it was slightly embarrassing and didn't bode well for my confidence, but I felt a little better after a few more people were turned away at the door with the same issue. Before the convention, my sister mentioned splitting up and exploring the convention hall on our own, and initially, it sounded like a great idea, except it probably meant that I would be stuck with our dad since he didn't even want to attend the event in the first place. For the record, I love my dad, and we've had some great adventures, but I've been in enough events with him to know that he's not the most organized tourist, and I didn't want him short selling the event if he just walked down the same aisle for an hour.
 

And as we entered the exhibition hall, with his several rows of booths and comics and action figures and collectors' items and cosplay groups and comic book artists and literal towers of science fiction themed t-shirts, I was overwhelmed. Despite being a soft open, with majority of the crowds and attractions to come over the weekend, there were enough cosplay enthusiasts to keep my head whirling and eyes attentive for the next fictional personnel to brush past my shoulder. It's so rare to attend an event where every square inch of the floor possessed something valuable; down one aisle, you could spend hours digging through troves of comic books and boxed action figures and t-shirts, and you'd still be surprised and excited about what you would find in the next booth. In a void, an iron man hoodie qualifies as something special and unique, but at the convention, it's lined up near a batman hoodie and a Chewbacca hoodie and superman bathrobe and a star trek bathrobe, and the list continued until you turned away or stopped counting.

That being said, I didn't buy anything. Through the organized disarray, my sister purchased a few things from Cyanide & Happiness, including a personal, and completely disturbing, drawing from the artists, a few science fiction medical patches, and a small Doctor Who tote bag, because there was apparently a trust between venders to not give away free plastic bags with every purchase. It's a conspiracy; someone really needs to look into it. And my dad bought a samurai sword, because that's a thing. Personally, I'm an indecisive buyer, and I feel more comfortable spending money on someone else instead of myself. In hindsight, a cheap light saber seemed extremely impractical at the time, but it would have been a pretty bad ass flashlight, and I could always use more Pokemon plushies.
 

On the lower level of the convention hall, removed from the bustling venders and sales booths, rested the autograph section, filled with actors and actresses supporting their own legions of die-hard fans in single filed lines. A few celebrities were missing since it was the first day of the convention, but there were still several cast members from Firefly, Star Trek: The Next Generation and The Walking Dead in attendance. I am a huge Firefly fan and immediately wanted to get all of their autographs, but since their lines were pretty long, we perused through the crowds and worked our way around. Our first autograph started with a debate. Near the back of the autograph section, Christopher Lloyd, best known for his role as Dr. Emmett Brown on the Back to the Future series, complacently sat with a fairly modest line. As others took pictures of him from a distance, careful not to impede on the autograph only section, it occurred to us that Lloyd was pretty old and probably wouldn't continue the comic con circuit forever. And even though we weren't die-hard fans and each autograph cost somewhere between $40 to $60, it sounded like a solid investment; I don't want to sound mean, but ebay will exist long after he retires.

After we tested the waters, we continued to the cast of Star Trek: The Next Generation and patiently waited for LeVar Burton's signature, best known for his portrayal of Geordi La Forge from Star Trek: The Next Generation and the host of Reading Rainbow. As we picked out a photo for him to sign, we overheard Burton strike up a conversation with the little girl in front of us, who was an avid Reading Rainbow fan. She'd recently finished writing a book, and she was describing all of the characters and backstories while her mother politely tried to move her along. Meanwhile, Burton carefully listened and asked her questions about the plot and title. I'm not a fan of celebrities charging their fans for their autographs, but you just know that he created an experience that she will never forget and inspired her to keep reading and writing.And I would gladly support any actor who's willing to make someone's day and leave their fans feeling happy about themselves.

Afterwards, we waited in line for autographs from Jewel Staite, Adam Baldwin and Sean Maher, best known for their roles on Firefly as Kaylee, Jayne and Simon. Easily a fan favorite, Jewel Staites had the longest line out of the three with some fans carrying pictures, paintings and banners for her to sign. While my sister temporarily left to retrieve an autograph from Sean Maher, my dad made a few passive remarks about the people in line; some lugged around carts full of collectors' items and adorn fan made Firefly vests and brown coat patches. And I realized that I was proud to be in line with them. On the surface, Firefly was a television series that lasted one season more than ten years ago, but the series still prevailed through the support of its fans, and I found myself in the rare situation where not only did everyone know about Firefly, but they deeply cared about its characters and the future of its cast members. I was in a line full of nerds; a passionate group of people who were willing to be knowledgeable about trivial, even fictional things, and they were comfortable enough with themselves to be excited and committed to something despite the fret of judgment or scrutiny. My sister's a paramedic, and at one of the booths, she managed to find one of the fictional medical badges that was used during an episodes where the crew posed as paramedics to rob a government hospital. She asked the three cast members to sign it, which they all graciously did. And after Adam Baldwin signed it, he quoted one obscure line from that episode in his character's low, gruffy voice, "We applied the cortical electrodes but were unable to get a neural reaction ... or something." And it made me realize how much he cared about the show and the support of its fans.

I had a great time with dad and sister; it was an experience that I will never forget, and I'm glad that I could share those memories with them.

Christmas Trees 2013

Christmas tree located in the center of downtown Fort Worth's Sundance Square.

Christmas tree located on the right side of my apartment's window above the printer.

Response to video: This is not a girl.

It's an image of a girl.

If you're familiar with my videos, you'd probably notice a reoccurring theme. There's usually a socially awkward boy who meets a girl, and eventually, they break-up and he feels guilty for his actions and regrets ending their relationship. And if you're not familiar with my videos, I probably just ruined about half of my videos for you; trust me, they usually don't end well. Even though they have similar themes, they're probably the most honest and relatable videos that I've created, and I'm very proud of every single one of them.

Over the past few years, I've received several comments and personal messages from viewers who have identified with the stories and felt connected with the characters. But one time I received a message from someone who asked if there was a specific girl who inspired most of those videos, and if there was a girl, what actually happened. In a long reply, I mentioned that I knew a girl who was fairly younger than me, and after we lost touch, I felt guilty for corrupting her innocence and I blamed myself for most of her current shortcomings. A few years later, I talked with the girl, and she didn't blame me and apologized if I felt responsible for anything that happened in the past. Through my self-deprecation, I didn't take into account that it was her life; she wasn't a child, and she took responsibility for her actions and decisions. We were young, and it happened. After sending the fairly personal and lengthy reply, the viewer asked for more. Why did you break-up? Where is she now? Do you still love her? I went through the exact same thing, and you need to tell me more. And somewhere along the way, I felt like he crossed the line. I know it doesn't sound romantic, but the girl and I broke-up. For years, I felt miserable that I ruined her life, and one day, she said she was sorry that I felt guilty for so long. There wasn't a big fight or a dramatic plea to stay, we just moved on. And in some ways, it is a happy ending; it's just not the one you were expecting.

 no, really... what is she?

I've used the same female animation model for the past two years, and I wanted to tell a story through her perspective. She's just an idea, an accumulation of people who I've met and girls that I've nearly dated. In a way, that's the closest we can get to knowing someone, just imagining them more complexly. And even though she could literally do and see anything in this person's mind, she just wants to know more about herself, whether it's through trivial facts or old memories. But she can never truly find herself because she's not real; she's just an idea of a girl who left a long time ago.

I wanted to make a simple video. I've always wanted to make a video where the figure could interact with the text, and they could have their own consciousness outside of the words that I've scripted. This is the first video where I used the same female animation model throughout the entirety of the video so I tried to focused on the fluidity of her motions and expressions. It should be noted that the girl is essentially a silhouette without a face and has limited mobility so expressions had to be either subtle or highly exaggerated. Every little detail counts when there's only one character on a black screen, and I had to painstakingly adjust the girl's torso every half second so there wouldn't be a noticeable split between the body image file and dress image file. If you want to stare at the girl's waist during the whole video (because I would appreciate the extra view), you can see it enlarge, rotate, and move whenever she makes a dramatic movement. Hopefully it's not that noticeable.

With this picture, you can see the text in the background followed by the pre-rendered 

movie file in the middle with limited opacity and the small figure in the foreground.

Plus, it just looks cool.

On a side note, I didn't want to spend several minutes coming up with random facts about the girl to use in the background so I searched through old internet quizzes people emailed me from chat rooms (because I used to be an internet pimp) so ... if that portion of the video sounds oddly familiar to you, it could have been from you. It's the surreal since the girl in the video is supposed to be overwhelmed by a swarm of trivial facts that were partly true and partly made-up, and the text used in the video is actually partly true and partly made-up facts about a girl I knew about ten years ago.

Of course I changed the name and date of birth so it's a complete work of fiction.

No, that's not you ... It's Sophie.

Main Street Fort Worth Arts Festival 2013

This past weekend my dad and I visited the Main Street Fort Worth Arts Festival, a four day event that spanned the greater portion of Downtown Fort Worth. Underneath the long stretches of white tents, the eclectic caravan of artisans displayed their work ranging from traditional oil paintings to overwhelming metalwork and sculptures. And even though the booths and artists vary each year, the annual tradition feels so familiar and nostalgic that it resembles Holden Caulfield’s glorified Museum of Natural History where ‘everything always stayed right where it was.’ With downtown’s traditional bricked walkways, tall buildings, and small garden like shrubberies, the rows of varied artwork and amassed clutter of spectators have become synonymous with my childhood and how I view this fair city’s interest and enthusiasm of art and culture.

ppl.

And in a lot of ways, it’s changing. For the past few months, Downtown Fort Worth has become seized with construction. Roads have been stripped to accommodate new pipes and lanes, and metal gates have sectioned off large skeletal buildings filled with diligent construction workers. A few weeks ago, we visited downtown to see its progress, and we were fairly concerned. Lots once reserved for display booths and performance stages were gone; they were replaced with prospective parking garages and shopping strips. Along the metal construction gates, there were short comic panels of a man from the 1900’s who was lost in the modern world. Everywhere he turned, he was stupefied by ATM’s, automobiles, and cops riding segways (and in two more years, no one will know what’s a segway). But it’s progress, and it’s needed for our downtown to thrive.

Wait until he discovers indoor plumbing.

Despite the changes, the festival was still the same. There was less space for the large colorful sculptures and one of the performances stages moved across the street to accommodate its surrounding food booths, but overall, the bulk of the event stayed on Main Street with its red brick walkways and small but organized shrubberies.

In a sea of white tents, you could see speckles of small people.

Like most of its visitors, we usually trudged through the art festival on Saturday, but my dad requested a day off ahead of time, and we found ourselves strolling through the booths on Friday with a lighter, ibid significantly older, crowd. Seriously, if the senior citizens came a day later, they would all be lost and pushed aside. To be honest with you, it was a completely different experience. We leisurely walked around at our own pace; occasionally we stopped to see certain pictures or walked through an artists’ booth without boxed-in or pushed around. And as much as I like feeling part of an anonymous collective in a crowd or traffic jammed walkway were we collectively inch forward every other minute, it’s nice to attend an art festival where you can enjoy the art without worrying whether you might step on someone’s flip-flop or trample over a small but very oblivious child.

Later in the afternoon, we popped our heads inside the golden bordered glass doors of the Bass Performance Hall. Throughout the art festival’s weekend, the Bass Hall provided a short sampler of their eclectic performances. On Friday, they provided a condensed tour of the performance hall highlighting the hall’s intricate details from local flora and song birds painted on the wing’s ceilings to the theater’s discrete ventilation panels beneath each of its two thousand seats. Our passionate full-time volunteer tour guide ushered us through the theater, the second floor, and the exterior balcony where we could almost touch the twin fifteen meter tall angels, which were meticulously sculpted from limestone. On Saturday we were fortunate enough to attend one of the hall’s free short performances. It started with the soulful brass section of the Fort Worth symphony orchestra followed by a fervent yet whimsical ballet, and it ended with the frantic, power-laden wisps of four pianists playing on two grand pianos.

It was very impressive.

 The one of the angel statues ...and one of the other

visitors on the tour guide. 

Afterwards, we watched a movie, and by the time it ended, Richard Elliot, a renowned smooth jazz musician, played on the main stage. And unlike most live music, I think it’s nearly impossible to perform jazz without a heightened level of passion that reverberates from the crowd. Without flare and showmanship, it’s just a guy onstage with a saxophone, but through his expressive movements and zeal, he’s able to titillate the crowd and transcend his music past a cover of his recorded albums and allow his audience to be part of the experience.

Admittedly a terrible snapshot until you realize that I took it

with one hand while holding a turkey leg.

In a way, it reshaped my views on artists and performers. Like many of the art festival’s attendees, my dad and I marveled at brightly colored the landscapes and collages, skimmed across the abstract and minimalists, and gawked at all of their price tags. To some extent, we just assume that we don’t get it; we lack formal education and expertise to fully appreciate the artwork. In some regards, we perceive art to be a pastime for the highbrow intellectuals, and with every other booth, one of us would say, ‘That’s very pretty, but what would you do with it.’ And at the same time, each booth displayed the artist’s lifelong work and the livelihood of their survival. Each picture provided their perception of the world that we live in and embodied the topics and themes that they valued and stand behind as their life’s mission to express and share with the world. In that small 10x10 foot booth, their life was on display. And that’s hard to put a price tag on.

Point.

On the next day, we meandered through the amassed crowds of people until we eventually sat on the green, placid lawn while a cover band played George Harrison’s ‘Here Come the Sun’ under the deep blue sky and the thinnest sliver of puffy white clouds. And along the sun drenched field and playful breeze, some took pictures while others walked hand in hand with their loved ones, and we all hoped to savor memories like this.

Pupdate: Party Dog

My birthday was this weekend, and Dharma 

celebrated in his birthday suit, like most days.

IRL Pupdate

I went to use the restroom, and Dharma was like, 

'Well you've been here all night; I wanted to try.'

Pupdate: use sun screen

And have a happy new year!

Pupdate: he has a Ph.D. in horribleness.

And he also knows how to sit.

Pupdate: Woof-Ro-Dah!

 Dharma used to be brave, but then he took an arrow to the knee

... which sounds very cruel when taken out of context.

Another post about Abilene

This post is going to sound outdated, but when I browse through this blog in several years, most of these entries will appear bundled and cluttered together and writing a post two or three weeks after the event will seem pretty miniscule.

A few weeks ago, my sister planned to visit my parents’ house to celebrate Thanksgiving since we’re all working on Thanksgiving Day. Unfortunately, my parents were celebrating their wedding anniversary out of town, and with the exception of ramen noodles and canned ravioli in the pantry, neither of us could cook anything worth a two day, three hundred mile road trip. So instead, my dad and I drove to Abilene, Texas. There was even less food to cook, but we’re used to eating out. Even though I didn’t bring a camera, I could almost insert pictures from my previous visits to appropriately illustrate our time there; there wasn’t a single new site that I haven’t document or couldn’t pull from my recent memory. And throughout our visit, I thought a lot about the cycles that we keep, the traditions that we uphold and the nostalgia that we retain. In most regards, we’re all byproducts of our past, and even though we’re not attempting to recreate our past, it’s comforting to experience something so familiar to us.

This is going to sounds petty and bitter, but it’s true. Throughout our childhood, our mom promised us many things, and more often than not, she lied to us. There have been countless amounts of times where she’s promised to take us to the zoo or watch a movie; sometimes, they were simple and other times extravagant like taking a train to Dallas, Texas, where we’d spend all day exploring different sites. When I was younger, I could hear the excitement in her voice and the casual assurance that it was a clear and definite plan; my mind would race throughout the night fantasizing different stores and places and random happenstances that would make our day last forever. And on the next day, she would get called into work or she decided to work extra or she would train for another marathon and lost track of time. Even at the time, we realized that she was a single mother supporting a house and two children, and she needed to work long stretches at a time. And in hindsight, she probably needed to lie to her herself just to stay motivated. But make no mistake, we were the victims. If you’re a parent and you’re reading this post, don’t promise to spend time with your children and continuously disappointed them; they’ll be cats and often times cradles involved. Needless to say, but my sister and I are fairly accustomed to disappointments. And even though Thanksgiving has been the only semi-regular holiday that our family has celebrated together, it’s not the single most surprising thing that it’s been neglected another year.

On the way to pick up my dad, who lives in the complete opposite direction of Abilene, I started to listen to Christmas songs. Admittedly, playing Christmas songs a week before thanksgiving seemed a little premature, but it was calming to hear the familiar words and vinyl-like crackles from classic holiday tunes. Even my dad mentioned that he listened to Christmas song to help him fall asleep, and for a while, we listen to the soothing jingles as we drove through the highway with its warm, sunlit grasslands and tall golden weeds bobbing in the wind. The drive felt the same; the road was straight with minimal construction, and the sky was blue with streaks of puffy white clouds. It’s a little known fact that most travelers despise passing through Texas with its flat, desolate grasslands and never-ending roads that stretches deep into the horizon. Sometimes it’s hard to deny the monotony of the drive. The highway provided the forced opportunity to slow down and take in the passive surroundings from the slight, incremental changes of small towns to fields of grazing cows. In a sense, it’s purgatory, an interim between where you’ve been and where you plan to go. While he was fiddling with his tablet, my dad accidentally muted the GPS, and we watched our small blue arrow drift further and further away from the calculated route; for a while, it looked like we could just drive pass our destination forever. On the small screen, we watch our map slowly expand as we continued through the highway, and it further reiterated the phrase, ‘If it wasn’t this, then it would be something else.’

Of course we turned around, and by the time we reached the nearest exit, I could practically find our way to my sister’s apartment without assistance.

Earlier in the day, just minutes before picking up our dad and hours before reaching our destination, my sister called and asked, “So what do you guys want to do in Abilene?” It’s a simple and stirring question, both a reflection of our poor planning and what the city had to offer. We only planned the trip the night before leaving, and we weren’t even sure if our dad would be interested in the overnight venture. To be completely honest with you, my dad and I were planning to go to Six Flags, an amusement park in Arlington, Texas, and it took a while to sober from my disappointment. I don’t want to shy away from acting my age, but at the time, I really wanted to go to Six Flags with my dad. And even though I’ve always had a great time in Abilene, I’d seen most of the town’s attractions. So while I was reeling from my regressive desire to visit an amusement park and mentally searching through the catalog of Abilene’s main attractions, I decided on the zoo.

As Abilene’s number one attraction, the zoo provides a plethora of species spaciously enclosed inside a small outdoor park. I’d been to the zoo on my previous visits, and I’m a little surprised that I haven’t written about it. For a small zoo, it’s pretty amazing. When I visited the San Antonio Zoo with my friends last summer, it was fairly overwhelming; there were hoards of people, confusing pathways, and by the time we saw all of the primary animals, we were exhausted. It was just too big, and the enclosures had the animals so far back from the guardrails that they felt disconnected from their visitors. The Abilene Zoo provides an inclusive environment where most of the animals felt closer and even the ones in thick and spacious enclosures could be easily spotted. The zoo itself felt like an extension of the public park with its green lawns surrounding a man-made lake. With its simple layout, visitors could easily walk around the zoo’s perimeter, browse through the two indoor facilities, and see all the zoo has to offer in less than two hours.

It’s hard to write about a zoo without including too much or too little details. Whereas some animals warrant a passing glance or a slight pause, others could be watched and enjoyed for hours. For the sake of time, I’ll just mention a few. On the shore of the lake, there’s a concrete lookout where visitors can feed hoards of ravenous carps (and the occasional duck whose grown accustom to fish food). With their gaping mouths and dead, on-looking eyes, it’s hard to deny the fishes’ conditioning over the years; the carps moved in swarms and piled onto themselves as if trapped in a net. They desperately needed the food, and I wondered what they ate whenever the zoo’s attendance was low. In the middle of the giraffes’ enclosure, there’s an arching concrete bridge where kids and adults can feed the giraffes crackers through the metal guardrails. At the peak of the bridge, the giraffes waited, necks extended, for their prize; their tongues wrapped around the elongated crackers like a hand securely grabbing a treat. It’s very impressive, and I don’t know why other zoos don’t offer similar attractions. And last but not least, there are the otters. At the Fort Worth Zoo, there’s practically a small aquarium devoted to the otters; raised above the ground, visitors can follow multiple window panes as the otters pace through the water, back and forth, back and forth, for hours. At the Abilene Zoo, the otters had a pool roughly the size of two or three relatively large hot tubs. But they still had a great time. In a row, the three otters hopped about on land before they dived into the pool and swam to and from its shores.

Later in the evening, we met Roy, my sister’s boyfriend, for coffee. They’re planning a trip to Hawaii in January, and they discussed flights and living arrangements. Our relatives live in Hawaii, and even though we’ve visited Hawaii several times when we were younger, it will be the first time either of us have planned a trip to Hawaii for pleasure instead of primarily seeing family. When I was younger, I slightly resented going to Hawaii; every time we went, it felt like we were overwhelmed by the affection and nostalgia of our relatives, by their numbers and questions and noise. And at times, it was hard to imagine Hawaii as a place to relax, a soothing escape from everyday life where people could take it easy. So it’s great that my sister's planning a vacation there with her boyfriend, and as adults, I hope they’re able to enjoy themselves and relax.

On the next day, we watched ‘Pitched Perfect,’ which I probably enjoyed more than I’m willing to admit, visited my sister’s ambulance station, and started on our way home. There were a lot more cars on the highway than I expected for a Sunday night, and I wondered where they all were headed. I assumed they all had their reasons; it’s like pulling up to a car and seeing someone with their dog in the passenger seat. When you have a pet in the car, you’re usually not going to work or buying some groceries or going to the mall. It’s an occasion, a planned event with a clear and definite intention whether it’s to play at the park or visit the vet. All of these people on the road were coming from somewhere and going to somewhere else. And I hoped most of them were going home to prepare for the week ahead and they were coming from a someplace like Abilene, where I enjoyed familiar sites and the supportive company of my sister.

Pupdate: These aren't the droids you're looking for...

...These aren't the droids we're looking for.
Keep in mind, the armor's not very protective
and it may distort your shooting ability.

Character

Last week, I ordered a printed t-shirt, and I was finally able to wear it yesterday.

While we were going into a store, a group of girls said they liked my shirt.

Seriously, where were these shirts when I was in high school.

I finished reading 'Catcher in the Rye' by J. D. Salinger several weeks ago, and even though the protagonist, Holden Caulfield, constantly swears and repeats every other line of his inner monologue, he's still regarded as one of the most relatable fictional characters in American literature.

Throughout the novel, Holden recounts his experiences after being kicked out of a prep school, and it's not a new occurrence. He's been kicked out of several other schools because he hasn't applied himself and he's too distracted by students and teachers acting phony. Instead of staying on campus until Christmas break, he decides to stay in New York City for a few days where he's consistently dismissed by adults as being an immature teenager. In a lot of ways, he just wants to talk to someone, but they're either too focused on their jobs or other trivial distractions. Eventually, he decides to visit his younger sister, Phoebe, and his demeanor shifts from cynically dismissing everyone as being dicks or phonies to admiring her child-like innocence. And he admits that the only thing he really wants to do in life is to be a catcher in the rye, a character devised from a misquoted line from a Robert Burns' poem, 'if a body catch a body coming through the rye.' In his mind, he wants to be in a field full of kids passively playing and running around, and whenever one would fall off a cliff or stray too far away, he would catch them before it was too late. In many ways, Holden is somewhere between adolescence and adulthood, and instead of exposing children to the vulgarity and complexities of adulthood, he wants to preserve their innocence and maintain the simplicities of childhood. Afterwards, he browses through a museum where he occasionally visited when he was younger, and he likes it; all the displays and exhibits were exactly how he remembered them and nothing ever changed. In the end, he just wants to move away, somewhere no one knows him and he could start fresh, but he eventually decides to stay at home to be with his younger sister and enjoy her youthful innocence while it lasts.

It's a short book, usually a mandatory novel in every high school AP English class, but it's a classic that has influenced readers beyond the required course curriculum. Personally, I would have hated this book if I had to read it for high school. With its brash and unlikable protagonist and its aimless plot where nothing really happens, it would have been a chore to skim through each chapter every night and take a multiple choice test on certain events and characters every morning. But it's a book that's appreciated by its casual readers, people who feel on the outside and no one really understands them. And in a way, the book allows Holden to be the catcher in the rye; he's able to preserve readers' innocence by reminding them of a simpler time and reiterates that they're not alone.

Regardless of how you feel about Holden, you have to admit that he falls into his own criteria of a phony. Throughout the novel, he acts differently around certain people, his inner monologue differs from what he says out loud, and he blatantly labels every single person that he encounters as one dimensional caricatures. There's nothing really sincere or original about him (with the occasional exception of his red hunting cap), and it's easy to dismiss his vapid judgment as immature or misinterpreted irony. But he also has a point. We've all been in a situation where we've acted superficial; whether it's being friendly to someone you hate or dressed a certain way to fit in. And you can either dismissively label someone as being fake or you can attempt to imagine them complexly.

It goes without saying, but this book (and most others) would be dull and seemingly irrelevant if you don't imagine its characters and objects complexly. This book has stood the test of time because it works so well under the microscope with its metaphorical resonance and deeply flawed protagonist. On the surface, Holden appears to be an irrational, judgmental teenager who doesn't really seem to care about anything, but continuously throughout the novel he exemplifies his pure and untainted desire to connect with people. That's all he wants to do.

Holden's conundrum is best explained through Peter Berger's famous quote that I'm blatantly ripping off from a vlogbrother's video, 'the difference between dogs and people is that dogs know how to be dogs.' As people, we have all of these emotions and ideas to spread, but we're confined within the limits of social norms and the scrutiny of others. When you're younger, it's socially acceptable to blurt the first thing that comes to mind and randomly hug someone you care about, but as you get older, you have to filter what you do and how you do it. In a sense, it's maturity, and the antithesis of being a phony.

It's easy to view Holden as a deeply complex character because we're used to analyzing characters from fictional movies and books, but sometimes it's less intuitive to assume those same complexities within the people around us. Logically, real people are immeasurably more complex than fictional characters, and instead of empathizing with every single person that we meet, it's easier to just label them as one dimensional characters going about their lives.

Personally, I don't view the text, 'Holden Caulfield thinks you're a phony' as an accusation or pretentious judgment bestowed upon anyone, but it's a reminder that we should all attempt to empathize with one another and imagine each other complexly.

And lets be honest, the t-shirt gets ubber nerd points.

Pupdate: merry ... day

Since most of these drawing blatantly avoid current events, I thought

this suit was the only costume not associated with Halloween.

Plus, Dharma looks really good with a beard.

meow.

 

I've had a fairly uneventful weekend, and I'm still spent 

from writing my previous blog post so ... kitten.

Pupdate: hi there

Dharma is a good tracker, and he is trying to find the-- Point!
It should be noted that he stole nano's milk bone when she
wasn't looking, and she would be happy if he stopped.

Remembering the State Fair of Texas

A couple weeks ago, we visited the State Fair of Texas in Dallas, Texas. The three week event offers a small plethora of indulgences from over-sized carnival foods, gripping thrill rides, multiple performance stages, and expansive museums and exhibition halls. Under the towering gaze of the 52 foot cowboy statue, Big Tex, and the largest Farris wheel in North American, the State Fair of Texas proudly exemplifies the phrase, ‘Everything is bigger in Texas.’

There he stood and told me, 'Howdy' for the last time.

And bigger isn’t always better. On this blog, I’ve tried to write a post every other week describing the events of my time off work to preserve my memories and reiterate how I value my time and experiences. And even though I had a great time at the State Fair of Texas, my original attempts to write a blog post about the fair sounded petty and slightly pessimistic. I don’t want to sugar coat my experiences in an attempt to make my mid-twenties sound rosy and perfect, but at the same time, I don’t want to hold any grudges. I don’t want to flaunt my experiences and then appear ungrateful for the opportunity to experience them, and I don’t want it to sound like I thought it was a waste of time. Instead of posting a somewhat forced and trivial rant about all of the fair’s faults, I took a week to question why I took the event’s shortcomings so personally. And I realized that unlike most local events that I’ve annually attended and often missed during my college years, the State Fair of Texas didn’t grow-up with me. When I look back on fond memories at the fair, they’re perceived through the eyes of a child; they’re casually strolling near the lagoon in the early autumns’ heat or letting my imagination loose through the nature and science museum. Now that I’m an adult (and they started charging separate admission fees for each museum), it’s different. I’m not going to pretend that it was better than expected or it’s been improved since I last attended the event, but it’s worth noting, even it’s just buried somewhere in my blog.
 

It was slightly cold with a cloudy overcast throughout the day, and we after walked through the entrance gates, we were greeted into the main plaza of the fairgrounds by Big Tex. Due to the weather, it seemed slow for the weekend, but from the very start, Big Tex never lost his fanfare with dozens of people taking pictures with him at any given time. And even with his massive ten gallon hat and flag strutted long sleeve shirt, I remembered him being bigger. I mentioned it to my dad, and he suggested that Big Tex looked taller because I used to smaller. Maybe it was true, but it was chilly so we ventured through the one of the exhibition halls. Located on either sides of the park were two exhibition halls with a wide variety of businesses and serves; one building was a standard convention hall and the other one was converted from a large basketball stadium. Unlike the dozens of clothing and kitchenware booths impractically scattered throughout the buildings, both exhibition halls featured display beds from the Mattress Firm right in front of their entrances. The beds appeared to be a hit with several people casually lying on the display models, some while talking to spouses while others kept their hands crossed with their eyes shut. I don’t know if they attracted any customers, but I liked it. And I suggest that every major event should have display beds to rest on (excluding people with lice; I’m sure you understand). There’s something to be said about the familiar booths, the ones that you’ve come to expect at every fair like the hot tube displays, kitchenware demonstrations, and homemade fudge booth; they’re so consistent, usually in the same spot with the same servers every year. There were electronic grand pianos that any child from the audience could play, handmade grandfather clocks no one dared to touch, and mounds of skinned cow hides that kids delicately brushed with their palms. And even though they attracted less people, I still enjoyed the novelty booths like one that sold 3D toilet seat covers and a candy shop-like booth that served several trays of handmade, freshly baked dog treats. There was at least one tent solely devoted to smaller businesses with ethnic crafts, jewelry, and hand stitched clothing. And it reminded me that it matters how we spend our money. It’s easy to dismiss buying something that we don’t need as trivially indulgences, but when we buy something, we’re supporting their cause and providing a demand for their business.

 As we walked around, I noticed how resentful the ice cream sellers 
appeared at the cold weather. It was slightly funny and depressing.

It was a little past lunchtime so we followed the crisp aromas and crowds of people through the flow of food booths surrounding the Cotton Bowl Football Stadium. It’s kind of a big deal. Per tradition, annual awards were given for the best and the most creative fried delicacies, and the fair has even appointed itself the fried food capital of the Texas. It’s on their website; they seem rather proud of it. To many of its visitors, this is the fair’s main attraction. And to be fair, there aren’t a lot of places where you can purchase deep fried beer, cheese cake, and cookie dough within walking distance. And on a day-to-day basis, that’s probably a good thing. This year the judges awarded deep fried jambalaya as the best tasting fried food and fried bacon cinnamon rolls as the most creative. Personally, we’re traditionalist, and I had a foot long corndog while my dad had fried shrimp with fries. As my dad purchased the corndog, my sister called and mentioned that the history channel had a segment on corndogs where they claimed that the Texas State Fair had one of the first and best corn dogs in the nation. And to be frank, I concur. The deep fried cornmeal remained crisp and impossibly moist from the soft and juicy hotdog, and it was something to both cherish and indulge. In a small nook of the fairgrounds, there was a wine and beer tasting area devoted to local vineyards and breweries across the state. In contrast with the fair’s larger than life affairs, the small plaza was simple and elegant with its patio tables, soothing music, and ever flowing water fountain, and you could tell this was the place where adults retreated after letting the kids run wild.

Afterwards, we stopped inside a building lined with small metal cages. At any fair, rooms with small metal cages usually contain chickens or rabbits; loud rooms contain chickens, and quiet rooms contain rabbits. Fortunately, our room was quiet so we perused through aisles of adorable little bunnies. Actually, most of them were large with oversized neck girths and excess skin rolled over in mounds of fur; they were like a cross between a tribble and Jabba the Hutt. Several of them had red and blue ribbons pinned to their cages, and I honestly couldn’t tell you how they were judged, whether it was by coat thickness or their weight in pounds. The building was in conjunction with other rooms and a small arena meant for animal performances. Unfortunately, we missed the dancing dog shows and the pig races didn’t start until the later in the evening. And even though I initially scoffed at the idea of dogs dressed in costumes while jumping through hoops, I was genuinely sad that I missed them.

 

Because he was slightly overweight and a winner at life.

As we continued to walk around, we stumbled on the last few minutes of Killdare’s set on their rotating performance stage. Based in Dallas, Texas, the Killdares blends their traditional Celtic skills with modern rock n’ roll to seamlessly integrate both genres into something new and refreshing. As their session progressed, more people shuffled from the bustling pathways, and onlookers were encouraged to crowd the stage and clap along with their songs. With each stroke of the fiddle precisely timed with the bass guitar and drums, the band displayed passion usually reserved for concert halls and sold out shows. And by the time the bagpipe chimed in for its solo, you could tell the audience was hooked into something unique and special.

On an earlier blog post, I mentioned that my dad rarely passes the opportunity to eat a turkey leg, and as we past several booths with turkey legs, I thought that this might be one of those occasions. But then we approached a food booth that defied logic and reasoning. On a rotisserie grill the size of a shed’s roof, there were literally hundreds of turkey legs uniformly basking on the heat like a large, well-trained army sweltering in the sun. People literally stopped near the side of the booth just to take pictures, and they had at least two workers running along the sides of the grill collecting buckets full of turkey legs to dispense to waiting customers. And I admire my dad’s commitment to moderating his diet and bettering his health, but at some point in time a turkey slaughter occurred, and we could not let them die in vain. While my dad was purchasing a turkey leg, I felt like eating onion rings. Fortunately, the booth across the turkey leg venue sold dinner sized proportions of side dishes. Between the duo, I swear that they were trying to give someone a heart attack. The second booth served hefty stacks of chili cheese curly fries, rolling pin-like corn dogs, and of course, onion rings the size of donuts. Wedged between the two booths was a picnic area tucked beneath several shady trees. And as I glanced at teenagers and families posing with their oversized carnival foods for impending facebook profile pictures, I couldn’t help but think of how Americans were perceived by the rest of the world. Until you’re in that picnic area, it’s hard to conceive that a nation can be so overweight while a large portion of the world goes hungry. And it’s events like the state fair where we drown those ever present flashes of guilt with gluttony and arrogance, with loud music and distractions, because we want to enjoy ourselves. And the food was delicious.

 

The largest Bar-B-Q in the world, weighing 27 tons and able to simultaneously 

cook a thousand turkey legs at once. And it’s American.

I had majority of dad’s turkey leg, and for a while, I carried one or two of the giant onion rings that I couldn’t finish eating as we looked through the carnival portion of the fair. I usually attempt to learn from other people’s mistakes, and even though it’s a work of fiction, I didn’t want to recreate the infamous carnival ride scene from ‘The Sandlot.’ Even so, there was a wide variety of rides that offered several different movements from side to side, up and down, and loopty loops. Throughout the crowd, several people carried giant stuffed bears, inflatable hammers, and one or two impossible to win electric guitars from the ring toss booth. It all seemed fun and slightly nauseating, but that may have been the onion rings.

And then I turned away because I felt slightly nauseous.

Eventually, we reached the Fair Park’s longstanding concrete buildings, the Hall of State and the twin Automotive Buildings. Originally built in the 1930’s, the plaza represents the state’s best Art Deco architecture with their clean, elegant lines and simple but bold metal statues. The auto show was conducted inside two exhibition halls divided by a rectangular lawn of water; one building exclusively had American vehicles while the other one had foreign models. We strolled through the masses of brightly colored cars, and I watched teenagers pose for pictures in the driver’s seat while kids pretended to erratically drift in others. For the past eight years, I’ve driven a Chevrolet Aveo, and even at the time, its best feature was its price. And with its condition slowly declining, it’s different to browse through an automotive show as a prospective buyer instead of fanatic daydreamer. I found myself gravitating toward practical hatchbacks with reasonable gas mileage instead of pinstriped sports cars with leather seats. And even though the show lost some of its allure, it offered a wide selection of cars and choices.

[I didn’t take any pictures of auto show because I accidentally 

smeared turkey leg grease on my camera’s lens.]

Next, we walked past the concrete steps and the ethnic dance performers in front of the Hall of State and into the Girl Scout’s 100th Anniversary exhibit. And I’d like to emphasize the importance of clubs and how the associated has shaped the growth and development of females across the nation, but I wasn’t particularly interested. At the door, there were several volunteers greeting visitors and even more volunteers were scattered throughout the three halls readily available to answer and questions or describe key events in the club’s longstanding history. There were vintage shashes with worn colored patches and old camping manuals behind glasses cases, and the main hall looked impressive with a massive Girl Scout emblem projected onto the back wall behind several iterations of Girl Scout uniforms. But at the same time, the exhibit just felt like a giant recruiting office for parents and their little girls, and besides the main hall, the other two rooms just displayed miniature dioramas of their camp sites. Still, it was interesting to browse through the history of Girl Scout cookies, and one of the volunteers mentioned that there were fried Girl Scout cookies available throughout the fairgrounds.

I don’t know why, but strangers always look awkward whenever 

you pull out your phone and take pictures of them.

By this point in time, we were fairly tired. According to my phone’s GPS, we walked a little over four miles in four hours throughout our stay at the fairgrounds so we lingered around one of the Hall of State’s pillars and watched the ethnic dancers perform near the concrete steps. It was late in the afternoon, and even though it was chilly, a large audience accumulated around the simple ground level stage. Dressed in beads and feathers, the musicians played several wooden flutes and drums while the performers danced in elaborate feathered headpieces and several beaded bracelets around their wrists and ankles. As they moved in unison, the rattling complemented the music, and at times, became the only source of sound. It was fun, and as their set progressed there were several times where they asked members of the audience to join them. Throughout the three week event, multiple performance groups danced on the modest stage, and their cultures varied from Irish jigs to African ceremonies. And while it’s enjoyed by audiences of all ages, it’s one of the few events at the fair that embraces culture and makes any real attempt to educate or inform its viewers.

Since we entered the fairgrounds, we noticed a thickly draped fence around the placid lagoon where I remembered strolling throughout in my youth. On the other side of the lagoon rested the nature and history museum, the place where I spent hours as a child. And before we left the fair, we made a fairly solemn attempt to reminisce through the life-size displays of dinosaurs and spacious interactive learning centers where kids could develop their sense of wonder and curiosity. Unfortunately, we were unsuccessful.

The exhibit cost money, but the extravagant entrance sign was free.

New to the fair, the Chinese lantern festival was held on the lagoon to celebrate the impending Chinese New Year. The exhibition featured varied paper lanterns harmoniously lit across the waters accented by extravagant set pieces from Chinese folklore. At least that’s how I imagined it because the exhibition charged a 10 coupon ($5.00) admission fee, and we weren’t particularly interested in paying for it. Instead, we assumed there was a way around the lagoon to visit the public portion of the nature and science museum. For a while, we walked along dark walls of the impervious vale, but there was no way around it. Later, I checked on the Fair Park’s website, and after paying $5.00 to enter the lagoon, you have to pay an additional $1.00 per person to enter the nature and science museum.

I don't normally curse in text, but that's bullshit.

When I was younger, the nature and science museum was the highlight of the fair. It's a place where science seemed fun and accessible, and it made an otherwise confusing and highbrow subject matter feel practical and interesting. Museums aren't meant to be the primary source for scientific information, but they’re meant to spark an interest. They're meant to get kids involved and make them want to learn. We walked a little further and noticed every museum in the park charged separate admission fees from the children's aquarium to the butterfly house. And to some extent, it made my time at the fair feel shallow and somewhat pointless.

As a citizen of a first world nation, I’m accustomed to flawed and fairly illogical justifications. Case in point, I consumed a corndog, turkey leg, and four oversized onion rings through my time at the fair along with some of my dad’s French fries and one of his fried shrimps, and I rationalized overeating with our four mile trek across the fairgrounds. Rationally, there’s no way that I burned the calories that I consumed, but at the time, it was enough to satisfy my reasoning. In my mind, the museums offset everything that was inherently wrong with the fair from glorifying obesity to mindlessly perusing through expensive and unattainable sports cars. In a sense, I think it’s how the world views Americans; we have an excess of food, arrogance, and consumerism, but we also have invaluable resources such as a diverse, multicultural society and prestigious universities.

At the same time, I know it’s just me. Just a year out of college, I’m still getting used to viewing the city where I grew up as a place where I commute through traffic and habitually go to work. And instead of a place of wonder, somewhere people can learn about different cultures and explore the secrets of the universe, maybe the State Fair of Texas is just an annual event where people can gather to enjoy a few rides, look at several pretty cars, and eat eccentric fried foods.

But I had a fun time, really.

--

After nearly 60 years of service, Big Tex was incinerated in an electrical fire. Thank you for representing our fair state, and may you return bigger and more fire resistant next year.