Episode 54 - Nouns

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  Welcome to the podcast. And can I ask you a question? Have you ever stopped and really thought about your relationship with stories?

Okay, I admit, that’s probably overly personal, especially for a forum such as this one, one that’s quasi-public. I mean, anyone can find this podcast. Most won’t. Many that do won’t find it interesting. But you are here. And sometimes I find myself wondering why that is. What is it about this show that intrigued you? What about it won you over enough to stay despite all the reasons to leave? The plot that doesn’t always seem to make sense. The holes or gaps, as it were, both in thought and in the upload schedule. There are things I can’t say. There are times I can’t say it. And you’ve put up with that. 

It makes me wonder why, but at the same time, do you know? It seems like the sort of thing you should know. For your own sake. Maybe for mine as well. 

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Someone reached out to me and pointed out that it could help find the show if I remember the color palette or any distinct style markers. Which isn’t wrong, in theory, but in practice, well. you have to remember that I don’t fully know the language or the terms for anything within the realm of animation. It’s a beautiful medium. Truly. But it’s one I’ve never fully understood intellectually. Emotionally? Yes. I can explain how various artistic choices have made me feel, how it is I respond to them, but that might be me understanding myself more than anything. 

So I can say that the artistic style is tightly interlinked with stress and anxiety. But maybe that was actually just the story. Okay, I can remember that the linework wasn’t clean. The lines seemed to have the texture I always associated with crayons, with the small skips and defects when the wax that made up the crayon held too closely together, and you could see this despite how thin the lines were at times. And it seemed as if color sometimes spilled out from where it needed to be. A red square didn’t hold its bright pigment that well, and it would slip out from a side and leave a corner empty and naked. But that wasn’t something that defined every frame. It was just occasionally there, a moment of unplanned clumsiness like what a child might produce. 

And maybe there’s something endearing about that. Maybe it was the sort of thing that made the show more approachable to kids. Maybe it made the show whose name completely escapes my memory something children could better bond to because it was the sort of thing they could make themselves. Not perfectly replicate, mind you. It wasn’t actually possible for a child to make something that complex, but it wasn’t as impossible as some other styles might be. 

So think of it this way. It was a dream, yes, but it wasn’t a fever dream. Not in that way, anyway. Making this show was something that felt in reach for those who loved it. It was like something that came out of our minds, even if we couldn’t fully implement it or create it ourselves. It was something for us, clearly. We could have even made it ourselves. 

At least in terms of the art form anyway. And maybe we should just leave it at that. 

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From what I can remember, the show I cannot name was incredibly formulaic. And I guess all stories are, in one form or another, but it feels especially true in this context. 

First, there was always an establishing shot of wherever the girl with the bright green ribbon in her hair was doing or wherever she was. Let’s call her Jade to make things easy. But I should note, I don’t remember her ribbon being jade green. Its color was more yellow than jade green is, but Jade works as a name. And she should have one. 

She should have a lot of things, really. Like more attentive caregivers. The establishing shot would show whoever was supposed to be watching her, gazing into the distance with a somewhat forlorn look upon their face. Sometimes there was some other distraction, a person to talk to or the newspaper to read. But there were so many instances I remember of it just being the blank stare into the distance. I remember how distressing that was.

Because what could cause that reaction? What could pull anyone so far from reality that they’d leave a small child unattended? 

Technically unattended, at least. The camera would then pan over to the young girl at play of some kind. Oftentimes, she was drawing, either with more official, established recognizable tools, or just a stick in the ground. And there would be a shot establishing that item as present, there and a part of the story. Pieces would be laid out, parameters for the adventure we were about to have. 

And in that adventure, in that laying out of the world we were about to step into, no one said hardly a word. Even the sun, once present in the sky, was slowly silenced by the clouds coming together and taking over its domain. 

And I should make another note here. That wasn't what the caregivers were reacting to. The loss of sunlight wasn't the thing that soured their mood. Their mood or mind or whatever it was had already fled. The sun was just following suit.

And the young girl so fully immersed into her world of drawings and art and the like didn’t notice any of this. She didn’t seem to understand how alone she was, how unfeeling the larger world was. 

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Jade, as I have come to call her, didn’t understand any of it. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe there’s something to be said about being so ignorant to one’s plight or to be unaware of the danger that surrounds you, especially when you are small and can do nothing about it. It is likely better than to live in that state that protects you from worry or anxiety, than to add that to your plate and let it drown you too. After all, said ignorance if that’s what you want to call it is the only protection you will ever get. 

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 I do think there’s a lot to be said about our relationship with stories, and that's not a new thought, is it? It’s something many writers and philosophers have tried to parse out before. Myself included. It’s something that we feel compelled to talk about, but it’s also a truth or state of being we take for granted. It’s the air around us. We never have to be conscious about moving through it. It’s just something we do. 

But trying to chase down this very odd if not outright inappropriate show raises that question, doesn’t it? It raises it for me who wants to find this show again and for the original creators of it. Because we should be concerned about whoever made that show, right? What was their intention behind creating an entire show about a singular girl putting herself at risk while most of the adults in her life remained shockingly indifferent to it all? 

That’s what makes the show so different from Rugrats, really. In Rugrats, the adults did care about the babies. They did put reasonable measures in place to make sure the young kids didn’t wander off. It just never worked. Their problem was that they always seemed to underestimate their children’s ingenuity. They didn’t recognize that their children were growing far quicker than they would have liked. They didn’t see the ways in which their kids were growing. And that’s a common mistake among adults. They don’t seem to recognize how their children have grown and the way they’ve accrued different mental faculties along the way. They don’t realize that their kids are learning how the world works not just when they are sat down and explicitly told something but also from what they see around them, all the moments they observe and the like. Parents don’t give their kids enough credit for what they can mentally put together. 

And that’s a good warning, I have to say. But it’s one that I’ve never heard discussed in the context of Rugrats. It’s not the one we’re inclined to focus on when nostalgia calls out for us. But it’s there. It’s a lesson in Rugrats. And so is the admonishment against going off alone. Always be with your friends. If you are going to explore, that’s the way to do it. With company, with friends, with help, with someone who can get more help if it becomes clear that you need it. 

Also the parents were very concerned. Jade’s parents were not. 

But come to think of it, this show had to be presented as a competitor to Rugrats, an alternative from a rival studio that might siphon away some viewers and some profit without the effort of a full development cycle, right? That’s the only explanation that really makes sense. Or that’s the best or least nefarious way to justify this show’s existence. It wasn’t made with some dark meaning lurking beneath the surface. It was an attempt at capitalizing on something that wasn’t fully understood. 

And in the end, there’s a lot of that out there. Our need for stories can make them rather lucrative things. There is money and fame or clout, I think the term is now, waiting for those who have a good story. Stories can be a way to make a lot of money. Or it’s a way to make nothing. We’ve all heard the comments and jokes about broke writers. 

So what about the broke ones. Why do we create? Why did I create this podcast? 

That sounds terrible, doesn’t it? But think about why it does. It does because you know deep down there’s more to life than revenue. Or we want there to be, but with the world being what it is, that’s easy to forget. When it comes to art, though, that truth lingers in the back of our minds where it can jump out at any time. And it does jump out, in conversations like this. Where there is a reminder of the monetary. Or a need to forget about it, I suppose. 

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But why did I make this podcast? In this way? When, frankly, there are more profitable ways to tell this story. The same story I’ve been telling all along but what was lost, never reclaimed and never noticed.

I don’t even know anymore. 

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The show’s color palette would vary, so that’s not going to be helpful. It would be based off of the adventure, the genre and the story pieces that were laid out in those establishing shots. So that’s not going to be helpful. But despite all the variety, I can remember darkness in the beginning. And the light would return when the uncle found Jade wherever she had ended up. Her entire world changed when he was there. It was lifted up, you could say. I would say.

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Now we’re getting to what some call the inciting incident: the moment in which our main character’s world changes enough that they are called out onto some sort of journey. This is the moment that creates something like a need. Maybe it feels to the character like a need to restore normalcy while the writer and audience know that their journey is more complicated than that. 

Either way, this show uses a simpler story, or at least, it does on the surface. In this story, our young protagonist simply saw something that caught her eye. Maybe it was a balloon floating in the breeze or a bird fluttering its wings in the distance. Maybe it was a sparkle or a sign that she wanted to get a better glimpse of or the treeline would have some sort of rustling, a small movement, a flutter of leaves that could be a small creature or some threat that was smart enough to mask itself. But I do remember an episode where there was nothing. Nothing to see, anyway. There was just her face turned to the distance. There was just something out there, seemingly calling her. It was the only thing calling her. Her caregivers certainly weren’t.

Consequently, I would guess that whatever argument this lure of sorts made didn’t have to be a very convincing one. It didn’t have to have all it’s i’s dotted and t’s crossed. It could have its logical gaps, its arguments that fell flat, and not suffer a bit for it. There wasn’t really anything contesting its claims. And it was arguing to a small child that would be inclined to believe whatever she thought she heard. 

Jade’s expression all the while would be blank. She wouldn’t give away what she was thinking nor would she offer those thoughts aloud. And there was no monologue playing over this or any other scene. There was just the girl’s blank expression pointed in specific directions. And then, with only that clue to go off of, she would get up and start walking. 

I suppose that saved them a bunch of money on voice actors. But to what end, I have to ask. 

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My relationship with stories is just as complicated as anyone’s, you could say, or you could grossly simplify it and say that I prefer the world of stories to the actual world. That’s technically true. Stories are something of a refuge for me, and at that point you might be tempted to offer up counterexamples, stories that could not be considered a refuge in any way. Which is rather rude of you to do. It’s kind of a jerk-move, frankly, to deliberately go out of your way to undermine my point when you know what I likely meant. Or to take away what I think of as comforting. 

Sure, not every story will be the sort of place I can hang my hat. Sure, there will be ones I cannot get into or ones that give me nightmares of a different sort. That all remains true. That is not something I dare to deny just like any avid consumer of fiction cannot deny that there are stories that they do not like and will not consume. There’s something for everyone, many people say, but that does mean that there will be things that aren’t for you. And that’s okay.

So there are stories that I can’t find comfort within, but you’d be surprised how few of them there are. You’d be surprised how easy it is for me to slip away into some other world. Or you would be because you don’t know the specifics. You don’t know that I already had my running shoes on, which made the actual sprint fairly easy. 

But when I write, it’s a slightly different story. Sometimes I do seek to run into something unfamiliar with my work, sometimes I’m just looking for something different than my current life with all of its issues and failings. But it’s not that I want to bring my issues or hurts with me. It’s not like I’m trying to include my baggage in my writing or to carry it with me as I go, checking into the terminal like I am in some sort of airport. I don’t want to bring those bags with me to whatever my final destination happens to be. It’s just not always up to me. So I try to repackage what I have to bring to make it more bearable on the journey, but then the forces at play could just wear it down, attack it and strip it of some specific characteristics. It would change what I am forced to carry until it is unrecognizable to anyone but me. 

And I don’t know why, but that’s comforting. Or rather, I do know why. I know exactly why. But that speculation was a twist of the truth, a distortion that isn’t unlike what I’m talking about. Hiding from the truth isn’t supposed to change it, but it creates an illusion so convincing that it feels like something different. 

In fact, it could be something different. It depends on how passionately you want to commit to a notion, I guess. 

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Do you think Jade is a good name for this young girl? The young girl with the bright green ribbon in her hair? Frankly, I go back and forth on it. I think as far as names go, it’s not a bad one per say. It has a simple elegance to it. I wouldn’t object to having that name. But I don’t think it was the young girl’s. The ribbon she wore couldn’t be described as jade green, and it wasn’t like she exclusively wore green. She wore a bunch of different outfits, usually simple solid colors, easy to draw and animate. 

But like I’ve said before no one in the world of that unnamed show would ever say her name. So on one hand, you can’t really blame me for not knowing it, but on the other hand, it makes me feel like I should know it. Like someone should be able to say her name, right? That’s the bare minimum of decency. Your name is meant to represent you. It is the standin for all that you are. So there’s something inhuman about being denied it or having someone else shove in a placeholder or two. Or many. It all depends. 

Talking about her by her description feels slightly more honest. It feels like I’m striping away less of her. But I’m still doing that. I’m doing that and creating a tongue twister that you as a listener might struggle with. So I had to give her some sort of name, right? Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I’ll let you know if I ever fully believe it. 

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Maybe it’s because I’m a writer, but I’m not too concerned or alarmed by the idea of my own story being lost to time. In fact, it’s somewhat comforting. I like the idea that no one will remember me, MJ, as a person specifically. But the stories that I tell have a chance of lasting, and that I’m okay with. I’m not thrilled per say because it means I also have to reconcile myself with the fact that my mistakes will also live on. The things I did wrong will forever be etched into the tablet of existence. 

And if there were no real victims to that, it would be easier to swallow that truth. Humanity is meant to make progress, to march on and leave certain sins in the dust. If I am left behind, then it is just me participating in the natural order of things. It is just my role in development, but if there are real people involved, there may be real loss. After all, maybe they wanted their stories to live on. Maybe they wanted their story to have a different ending than the one I am leaving in the ledger. Maybe I have made choices for others that I have no business making. 

Maybe I’ve hurt others all over again. Maybe I’m a monster in my own way.

Or is that a story I’ve made up, somehow. It might just be a story I’m fleeing into so I have some sort of comfort. In this case, this story gives me the comfort of security, of knowing for sure what my fault and role is. It’s like a trial with a verdict coming right when I am ready for it in a ship I can jump from at any time. 

There are consequences to creating a story. I know that. Despite my interest in this horribly ill-advised show, I know there were horrible consequences to its existence. 

And maybe that’s the real reason I love it so much. Maybe it’s because we have something in common. 

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Aishi Online is a production of Miscellany Media Studios. It is written, produced, performed, and edited by MJ Bailey with music from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. If you like the show, please leave a review, tell a friend, or post about it on some mysterious online forum. You do you.