IMAX Maxes Out

Ever get spinned on one of those twirling playground rides and then stumble off? That resembles how I felt when I recently watched a 3-D film. At the Indiana State Musuem, a shark seemingly a foot away on the ten story IMAX screen was visually interesting, but wasn't worth the unnatural sensation. Whenever the camera panned over the dinosaurs or sharks swimming, the 3-D animation abruptly cut off at the edge of the screen. Although I probably wouldn't have enjoyed a normal film about sharks and dinosaurs anyways, my favorite part about going to the Indiana State Museum would probably be the gift shop rather than the 3-D film. I have a sweet tooth for cotton candy and an attraction towards geodes and souvenirs. My lack of good taste in enjoying art is similar to Count Pococurante's in Candide.

"3-D," which could be used as an emoticon depiction of a sideways smile, is a term that confuses me. When I visualize 1-D, I think of a dot. When I viualize 2-D, I recall Super Mario Bros on the Gameboy Advance. When I visualize 3-D, I picture a typical film like Harry Potter. Therefore, I consider "3-D" movies to be just typical movies with more (and in my opinion, unnecessary) depth; I prefer watching regular movies unless the 3-D movie doesn't come with cumersome glasses, offers really special effects (in one showing, I got sprayed with water), or requires 3-D in the plot. Since Toshiba recently released its glassless (is that a word?) 3-D television, I hope that IMAX and other theatres follow suit. I would rather trade my 3-D experience for reclining seats and an intermission.

Yesterday marked an important day in 3-D technology: the release of the Nintendo 3DS. Although the console sounds very interesting, I'm concerned that the sales will turn into a flop, as they did with the PS3, because the high-end features came at an impractical cost-economy. I'm not much of a gamer, but I think that a 3DS is long overdue. When I was eight, I thought there'd be holographic visuals in a decade, but I was woefully disappointed; nevertheless, I'm settling for "3-D." I'd rather not be able to feel Mario landing a wrestling move on top of me.

Say cheese!

"Say cheese!" the photographer directs. I love all types of cheese — cottage cheese, provolone, especially pepper jack cheese, but I can't get myself to smile naturally. It's similar with "say money!" Money doesn't get me to smile because I mentally picture a stack of dull dollar bills that would soil my hygiene, but a brand new Jaguar just might; of course, such big gifts would counter-intuitively shock me into apathy. Thus, for maximum effect on my smile, a photographer would ideally buy me some Red Bull before the photo shoot. As of yet, my smiles either make my pictures depict me as Garfield about to do exercise or a politician before having to meet with a swarm of reporters, i.e. serious or forced. When I'm serious, I think I'm smiling. I force myself to think "happy" thoughts — the clear, blue sky around me, the people playing, the warm temperature. But that just makes me sad.

I begin to ask myself, "Why do I have to force myself to think about happy thoughts to make myself happy? What's wrong with me?" What usually happens regardless is that I ask myself more questions: "Why can't I get back to reality and deal with my sore legs from standing in this position? Why must I capture this fake moment to supplant my reality?" Finally, as I decide I might as well force a smile, I attempt to move my entire face into an a paragon of exuberance and youthful energy effervescing with inordinate happiness, only to realize that the only part I can move effectively is my mouth into a creased crescent; my eyes and my cheeks don't budge because I'm not actually happy. This gives me a resentful look, giving off the "Why are you making me do this?" air. This is ironic; I smile naturally when I'm not thinking about smiling, but when I'm about to get my photo taken, I lapse into nonchalance or worse — frowning.

Even after I get this far into the photo shoot, judging the depth to which I should smile requires some foresight. If my smile resembles a semi-circle, I wouldn't do too badly as an actor in a horror film. If my smile resembles a conservative grin, you may think I'm about to find a punching bag. Finding middle ground is tricky and may sometimes require a reflection of myself. Even then, my naturally forced (pun on words) smile only shows my rather conspicuous upper row of teeth. For an ideal smile, I move my lower lips down to balance the display of my upper row of teeth with my lower row of teeth. I guess the ability to display a perfect smile is all in the mood. Forcing the technique is too difficult. I just have to be more happy and less cynical for natural pictures. There are no shortcuts in life after all.