Ronald Weasley: Remarkably Mediocre

It is the Christmas season, and this time of year my thoughts always turn to Harry Potter as I mentally and emotionally prepare to send at least three text and Facebook messages saying "Happy Christmas, Harry" and wait for the natural response, "Happy Christmas, Ron."

So last night I was thinking about Ron Weasley. As I sat there I tried to think of what Ron actually did that was outstanding, that earned him his place in the legendary tripod. In his first year at Hogwarts he played a really good game of chess. In his second year he cried about spiders and then let Harry take all of the risk and go after Ginny. In his third year he broke his leg. In his fourth year he got upset with Harry because Harry got into the Triwizard Tournament (and helped bring Fleur's sister to shore). In his fifth year at Hogwarts he used a summoning charm on a tentacular brain, nearly killing himself. In his sixth year he managed (through Hermione's cheating) to get onto the Quidditch team and performed poorly until the key game when he played remarkably well (after thinking that Harry cheated to help him). He also smooched on Lavender Brown a lot. In his seventh year (which didn't take place at Hogwarts) he abandoned his friends and then joined back up with his friends, and then watched his best friend beat Voldemort.

In the sum total of all of Ronald's Hogwarts career he doesn't do a whole lot that is noteworthy (in a good way) that is unique to him. Even Neville proved his Gryffindorhood by whipping Godric's sword out of the Sorting Hat to absolutely destroy the final horcrux (Nagini) and open the door to Harry doing his defeating Voldemort thing. What was it in Ron's life that made him so overwhelmingly mediocre? I tried for quite some time to piece it all together. Was there a moment that lead to his screaming normalcy (with mediocre wizard powers), or was it a confluence of circumstances?

Sure, he came from a large family and might have felt overshadowed, but let's look at his other siblings. Charlie became successful working with dragons, Bill successfully broke curses (and totes won Fleur's heart), Percy earned moderate success in the Ministry of Magic pretty quickly, Fred and George became wealthy entrepreneurs (before they left Hogwarts), Ginny achieved success as a Quidditch player and sports reporter. So all of his siblings did remarkably well at what they loved. Statistically the success of that family is crazy. Ron's averageness helps balance it. So if everyone else in the family is able to excel in spite of the family dynamic, and probably because of it.

Then it all came to me. All of his mediocrity can be traced back to his first train ride to Hogwarts.

First off he fell in with the famous Harry Potter. While we all say that we shouldn't compare ourselves with others, it must be hard to not do so when you meet someone who from their birth has received more attention than you have received cumulatively in your entire life. What's more, just being around Harry brought attention to Ron. Just by sticking with Harry, Ron go to go on some sick adventures, break rules, and even share in the glory of winning the House Cup. Why excel when all of your dreams are being satisfied without effort on your part? And when you add on the fact that Ron's best friend was academically challenged and shenanigan-ally gifted, Ron's behavior couldn't help but change to match.

Secondly, and I think that this played more of a role in Ron's mediocrity, was the failed spell he used on Scabbers. Let's look at this in more depth. Ron said that Fred and George gave him the spell, and after failing to cast it correctly he expresses his concern that Fred and George gave him a fake spell to screw around with him. But what benefit would Fred and George get from that? Ron was probably going to test out the spell alone. We see throughout the books that they only play tricks when they get to see the payoff. They love to revel in their own brilliance as their plots and plans come to fruition. On top of that, Fred and George are brilliant and invent magic other people have never seen (example: the Swamp in Book 5). Deep down Ron knows this, and failing to cast the spell correctly shakes his confidence to the core. From the very beginning he gets it into his head that he lacks magical talent, and this belief leads to nerves and doubts impairing his performance in every class (and life).

So why didn't that spell work? Fred and George developed it to work on rats. Was Scabbers a rat? No, he was a person, an animagus. I can only imagine that would definitely change the effectiveness of a spell. Case in point: the Cruciatus Curse and Avada Kedavra both require intent and focus to work effectively. So if you need hate in your heart to torture or kill someone with a curse, is it really that hard to think that a spell designed for a rat wouldn't work right on a human in rat form?

But then again, maybe Ron just didn't have that much potential to begin with. Dumbledore didn't seem to think so, though, and did what he could to nurture and draw out that hidden potential. Shoot, he gave Ron a stupid amount of points for playing a game of chess (and demonstrating a remarkable level of self-sacrifice), and then later he made him Prefect instead of Harry. Even Harry tried to unlock Ron's potential by tricking Ron to get out of Ron's way to become a Quidditch hero. Ron's doubts (the one's that started with failing to perform a simple spell) became Ron's worst enemy.

The final piece of evidence, and the part of the series that never jived with me. Down in the Chamber of Secrets Ron had every reason to move forward. His little sister was trapped, alone, dying in the depths of the Chamber. As a brother myself I know that nothing would have stopped me from tearing in there and throwing down on the spiritual manifestation of Tom Riddle. Now, if Ron had done that he probably would have been killed by the basilisk, but I think everyone would agree that it would have been the most understandable reaction. He chose to stay behind. He let Harry, who had no good reason other than being a friend and having an insatiable drive toward self-destruction, go in his place. Only a man crippled by his own doubts, who believed he could never accomplish his goals, would hand off his fraternal responsibility for his sister to his friend (who he had known for less than two years, and who had not even gone through puberty).

So what's the moral of the story? We should not allow one failure and the ease of following the path of least resistance to rob us of all the things we want to enjoy. When Ron looked in the Mirror of Erised he saw himself earning all of the honors that he could only hope for. And let's be honest, after that ferocious chess match I have no doubt that Ron could have earned those if he had turned his stupid, fat rat yellow and had a better, more academically inclined friend earlier on (like, before Halloween).

I Will Marry for Science!

I have determined that I must marry someone who has blond hair and blue eyes. Yeah, intelligence and tenderness and other qualities might be nice, but the important part is how they look. Some of you might (accurately) say, "Matt, that sounds really shallow." 

But let me explain how this is really for the sake of humanity. 

Anyone who has taken a basic biology course has been introduced to genetics. You've drawn your Punnett squares, determined the statistical probability of offspring inheriting certain characteristics, and read about Gregor Mendel's pea plants. 

We have been using genetics for centuries (most of the time before we knew it was genetics) to obtain favorable outcomes from crops and livestock. We needed hardier plants and animals to face increasingly harsher climates. This was great, but it is possible to move beyond useful husbandry into a realm of disastrous genetic consequences. Just look at all of those dog breeds that have crazy health problems as a result of inbreeding. When series after series of genetically similar pairs breed, the result is the destruction of a species.

Which is why I need to marry someone with blond hair and blue eyes. It would be a marriage for science. With that combination of genes I would be ensuring the greatest number of possible genetic combinations. I would be moving humanity (at least as much as I can) towards greater diversity and away from genetic inbreeding. Let me explain further.

I have brown eyes. Well, mostly brown. There's a hint of green in there, but that's mainly a result of how light interacts in the stroma. However, my father has blue eyes, and my brother has blue eyes, which means that I carry at least some of the recessive genes that lead to blue eyes (there are approximately 15 genes responsible for eye color). Therefore, if I marry someone that is full-on recessive, our children could potentially have pretty much any eye color between brown and blue.

I have brownish hair. Well, sort of a dirty blond. As a child I was a tow head if you ever saw one. Blond as could be. The presence of read hairs in my beard is also a glorious sign of my own personal genetic diversity. The amount of combinations I could have with a blond haired woman are many.

In essence, a marriage between me (a metaphorical stewpot of gene expression) and a blond-haird, blue-eyed woman (as close as one can get to a genetic blank canvas) would theoretically yield the greatest diversity. I may not be able to stop the red heads from going extinct, but I sure as shootin' can make sure the world isn't just a dark haired mass of sameness.

But wait, there's more! I also have most of the genes that lead to a sound body and mind. I have genes for the correct number of fingers and toes, for the high end of average height, for seeing, hearing, and smelling (though my smelling might be too powerful, so if my wife has a lower than average sense of smell then everything should balance), and my organs are all in the right place. I don't want anyone to think that I'm genetically perfect, though. In the spirit of full disclosure I am genetically predisposed to high cholesterol and have poor (though not the worst) vision.

So the result of a union between me and a blonde would be strong, healthy, genetically diverse offspring. I might not be able to do much for humanity, but I can do my best to ensure our survival. And if you are familiar with my dating history then you will know that I have only ever dated one blond woman. Dark hair and dark eyes are historically more my thing, so hopefully you appreciate that this will be a sacrifice. But I am willing to sacrifice for the greater good. The human species must survive.

On Guardians, Galaxies, and Heroes.

Spoiler Alert: I make no promises that I won't spoil something.

A few weeks ago I saw Guardians of the Galaxy alone in a movie theatre at 10AM on a Saturday. And I'm not complaining. I prefer to watch movies by myself. Movies, theatre, music, really anything where afterwards someone might be tempted to ask me, "So what did you think?" before I'm good and ready to respond. I need time to digest.

That's beside the point. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It was, by all accounts, well done. I'll admit, I'm a bit burnt out on comic book to movie translations. Somehow one Spiderman movie became five, Superman has attempted to win everyone over multiple times, Tony Stark has done his thing thrice, Captain America, Thor, the Hulk, Batman (the Bond franchise of Comic Book films), the list goes on and on. Our heroes face crazier and crazier obstacles as nefarious villains strive to conquer, destroy, steal, or corrupt various cities, America, or the World (or Universe if they're feeling ambitious). And for the most part I have enjoyed at least the first movie of each new adaptation. But I can only see so many skyscrapers tumble and innocent bystanders probably get wasted (but at least the hero or token child saved by hero is fine) before I start thinking about cost. The cost of cities being destroyed is the #2 cause of me losing focus and letting the illusion crumble around my ears.

Guardians of the Galaxy did an admirable job preventing that. The faceless masses were given faces. The cost to the multitudes was constantly present. It was not hero vs. villain for the sake of a sweet explosive showdown. It was countless people sacrificing to save families and friends, habitual enemies becoming allies with the hope that everyone can go home at the end of the day and hold their children again. And as for the Guardians themselves, it wasn't a bunch of misfits coming together. For all intents and purposes each one had their place and did quite well in their sphere. They were successful in their niches. On an individual basis they probably did better separate than as part of a group. With that said, when a need arose they did their best with what they had. That's a story that speaks to people.

At this point you might be saying, "If that's #2, what's #1?" Let me tell you. The #1 thing that ruins the magic for me is when heroes don't bleed. Not that I have to see actual blood. Metaphorically (though in the pursuit of the metaphor it could get literal). I need to see that my heroes can fail, that there is the possibility that they just aren't strong enough, or smart enough, or brave enough, or decisive enough or good enough to succeed when push comes to shove. I don't think I'm alone in this. I think it's one of the keys to winning an audience: providing an access point, a way for me to relate and say, "I have been there, and I will be there again, and we understand each other."

Two images from film for you. The first is from the Superman remake before the Henry Cavill one. Towards the beginning of the film there are some bad guys doing what bag guys do, and Superman flies in to stop them. They unload a gattling gun into his chest, but Superman continues approaching them undeterred. The shooter, not about to give up, walks towards Superman, and at point blank range he shoot Superman in the face. In slow motion we see the bullet hit Superman's eye, compress, fragment, and fall to the ground, leaving him completely unscathed. If I recall correctly this is in the first ten minutes. It's established right from the beginning, Superman will win because at the end of the day, he's invincible. He can't bleed (unless in the presence of a surprisingly rare non-earth element, but excluding outside forces he's perfect. I admit, I have problems with the concept of Superman).

The second image is from Thor. From the beginning we get that he is pretty impressive in terms of strength and battle prowess. We also see very early on that he is proud, foolish, thoughtless, manipulable, rash, and petty. But the image I truly love is this. After he has fought his way through government agents, he stands in front of his hammer ready to regain his former glory. When he tries, for all his strength and prowess, he cannot move the hammer. We see him collapse to his knees in the rain with a look in his eyes that says, "I am not good enough."

Which image speaks more to us as an audience? Which one allows for empathy and sympathy? The man who will always be the best, or the man on his knees, his hopes crushed, struggling to understand the world around him, hopeless, defeated, and alone. I will feel for the second every time, and I will cheer for him as he strives imperfectly to overcome challenges.

That's why I liked Guardians of the Galaxy. They fail so often and after so much effort that you start to wonder if success is even an option. Surely after that much sacrifice and effort they should have won. They are people trying their best, but frequently their best isn't good enough. I can relate.

So to all of you story makers and creators, please give me people on stage, on screen, on the page, etc. that let me feel for and with them. I need heroes that can bleed, that can despair, that can sorrow, that can doubt. I need living, breathing characters that expose truths of the human condition, and from what I understand it's very hard to live without blood.

And for all of you that may not have seen Guardians of the Galaxy, accept that it's probably not as good as I've talked it up to be. I don't need you being disappointed because I said it was great and you don't think so. But you should see it and judge for yourself.

Adulthood Checklist

Recently I have been checking things off of my unspoken checklist for becoming an adult in a manner both fast and furious. Let us make that unspoken list a spoken list by having you read the following list out loud. Or speak it in your mind.

1. Get a salaried job - Check. I work full-time and I've completed my training.
2. Purchase a bed - Check. And it's queen-sized. After all that time in college on a twin mattress (if you can call it a mattress) I'm going big. And it's memory foam.
3. Get a place of my own - Mostly check. I just need to finish moving in.
4. Get a college degree - Check. I don't use it, but I've got it.
5. Get my own cellular telephone - Check. And it even acts as a pedometer. You could attempt to get on my level, but don't be disappointed if you can't.
6. Get business cards - Check. They have my name on them and everything.
7. Become the greatest uncle ever - Check. Tears happen when I leave.
8. Obtain a wife and/or children - Not yet accomplished. Luckily this is more an add-on of adulthood, something that should probably not be accomplished until adulthood is within your grasp.
9. Buy a shower curtain - Check. What's so special about this? If you don't know then you've never bought a shower curtain.
10. Have health, dental, life, and accidental death and dismemberment insurance - Check. My hand is currently worth thousands of dollars if it gets accidentally removed from my arm.
11. Have a 401k and know what it is - Check.
12. Have my own wifi - Check. It's even named after me.

I don't understand how women aren't falling over themselves to partake in my maturity and adulthood. Added bonus: I am bearded, which physiologically means I have reached adulthood and which psychologically means I am strong, reliable, respectable, and erudite. I even use words like erudite. And panache.

Adulthood, it's a pleasure to meet you.

Swinging in Sunshine and Snow

For those of you that are unaware, I have graduated college. I now hold a B.A. in Theatre Arts Studies. Two weeks ago I was incredible. Now I'm credible.

Let me share an experience with you. But first you must wade through background information. The Saturday after graduation (April 26th) my housing contract expired, meaning that I moved out of my apartment into...a storage unit. No I'm not living in a storage unit, but all my stuff is. I remain homeless, living on roll-away beds and couches. I am waiting to hear about future employment, floating around the world, living a life of simplicity. I don't really worry about too much, just hanging out in limbo for a time. I've played my hand, so now it's life's turn. I can't really continue playing with her holding up the flow of the game.

But what I can do is swing. Monday afternoon, having dropped my mother off at the airport and waiting for my dear friend to be ready to go get lunch, I stopped at the local park and commenced swinging on the swings. Swinging is one of the few things in life that I hate. It is also one of the many things in life that I love. The first few moments are terrible. The rest are wonderful. For clarification, I hate back and forth motion, such as the type that can be found at amusement parks on swinging ships and in parks on swings.

Now, as I was swinging, the sun was shining, my legs were pumping, and I was reveling in the simple freedom of just swinging. Yes, reliving my childhood brings me great joy (Legos, swings, reading for days on end, walking uphill both ways in two feet of snow, etc.). Then, one of the craziest Utah things happen. There, in the middle of the sun and my childlike freedom, it began to snow. Not sticking to the ground, but dark cloud and flurries and flakes. A different type of human being (sane, stable, normalish) would have called it a day and returned to their home. Seeing as how I have no home, am not normalish, and refuse to bow to Mother Nature's fury, I continued swinging. And then, about ten minutes later, it stopped snowing. The sun, which had never stopped shining, shined brighter. The dark cloud completely vanished. And I continued swinging.

Did this actually happen? Yes. Is it a metaphor? Yes. It is also, surprisingly enough, not hyperbolated at all. If I had replaced myself with an animal it could have also been read as a fable. If I included more fish it could have been a parable. Or is it already a parable? What's a parable if not an extended extended metaphor? Is this an extended metaphor? What is the symbolism? How would I stage this? What is my concept as director? All valid questions.

But what I thought was this: you just gotta keep on doing your thing. Onwards and upwards, as Aslan says. You never reach the summit if you turn around and go back down, or if you try climbing while looking back over your shoulder. As I sat there, swinging in the snow and in the sun, the stresses and tension that I have long carried with me and which intensified throughout last week melted away. Is my future uncertain? Yes. Can I live with that? Yes. Will I end up where and when I need to be? I am confident that the answer is yes.

Should you go swing on your nearest swing set? Yes.

Friendliness

It's been some time since I updated, and with an inexplicable boost in page views over the past three days (like a "someone is reading all of my posts four times" boost) I have decided that maybe it's time to post something new.

Recently in my life it was brought to my attention that at times I am not a very friendly person. Valid. There are quite a few things I prefer to social interactions, and I can oftentimes come across as gruff, disinterested, crotchety, and surly. Or all four. Sometimes I'm just caught at the exact wrong moment (like, say, a production week). Most of the time I'm just prickly. Like a hedgehog. Don't pet a hedgehog backwards. It's a simple concept, but difficult to apply to human interactions.

Back to the actual point. So I can sometimes be less than friendly, less than approachable, and less than huggable. I accept that about me, but I have felt after that exchange that maybe I should try a bit harder to be a bit more pleasant to people. I think I'm doing quite well. Then again, I thought I was doing fine before.

I think we can all be more aware, more careful, and more loving in how we treat other people. Especially me (meaning treat me more lovingly. Joking. But not). We may think that we are jesting, but sometimes it's the tone of our voice, the inflection at the end of our sentence, or the content of our joke that makes it less of a joke and more of a harmful statement. We don't know everyone's past, we don't know everyone's future, and we don't always know the ins and outs of what people are dealing with right now.

There's that one scripture in James that talks about bridling the tongue. We should all lend some more credence to those verses. I should lend more credence to those verses. When we let our tongue run freely, when we never check what we are saying and simply spew forth whatever stumbles into our mouth then we can very easily start fires we cannot put out. Thankfully I was made aware before that happened with my dear friend, but the results could have been disastrous. Apparently that old adage, "Think before you speak," remains true in our modern era.

So if I say something thoughtless, hurtful, harmful, or just plain stupid, let me know. We can all help to lift one another to speak with the tongue of angels.

What's in a Name? Lots.

I believe strongly in the power of names. Chances are it has something to do with reading The Dark is Rising series and the Earthsea Chronicles at a young age.

But let's talk about names for a brief moment. Or rather, let's talk about the danger of avoiding names.

In LDS culture I have noticed a tendency to use code words in order to avoid the names of other things. We say challenges, trials, and struggles instead of saying what they are (Same with sin, but the public expression of how you sinned might be received differently than to say how you are challenged. Certain of the following concepts still apply). On the other end, we say blessings instead of naming how we have actually been blessed. I believe there is great danger in this. While I recognize that most of this is done in person-to-person conversations so that we don't have to necessarily "burden" someone else with our problems, or so that we don't sound like we're bragging about how awesome life is, I think we stand at the very edge of a gulf. It will only be so long until we have alienated ourselves from the problem, and therefore lose power to actually find a solution.

The same goes for blessings. The real danger in simply saying that you have received many blessings is that you alienate yourself from what those blessings are, and over time you'll cease to see how you are blessed. Shortly thereafter you won't recognize your blessings for what they are. There is a hymn entitled "Count Your Blessings" that we are all probably familiar with. And lots of times we give that advice to people. "Dude, just count your blessings if you're feeling low." "Ladies, if you would count your blessings you would see God's hand in your life." But really, the most important part of that hymn is the second half of the first line of the chorus: "Name them one by one." What is better? Saying "I have 12 blessings" or saying "The Lord has blessed me in the following ways: 1)....."?

And I'm not necessarily saying that saying you are blessed or challenged is a bad thing. Some situations call for it. And the last thing I want to do is sit through a testimony meeting where everyone enumerates their blessings (because they feel they should be grateful and focus on the positive) or their challenges (because they want you to know that God gives us our challenges so we can learn. To this train of thought I say, "Well, yes, but sometimes really terrible things just happen, and I would hesitate to say that God caused them all.").

But here's the conclusion. When we overuse the terms trial, challenge, difficulty, struggle, blessing, etc. we run the risk of making those words meaningless. I could be wrong (but I'm not) but I believe in the scriptures that Jesus tells his disciples to bear one another's burdens. So if you are dealing with some stuff, don't worry about burdening others. They've been commanded to help. No matter what, name it to yourself. If you struggle with depression, name it. Name your familial dysfunction, your addiction, your anger, your sorrow, your loss, your career success, your good grade on that test, your mother. Whatever it is, you cannot solve it or truly be grateful for it without seeing it for what it is, without naming it. Because once you know its name you have power over it. Power to share, to seek help and understanding, to feel joy, to empathize.

So yeah, that's what's in a name.