Boldly going beyond the familiar
Time and space have always fascinated mankind. The great unknown. To compensate for the vastness of our lack of information in what lies beyond this Earth, our imagination makes up visions of abundant possibilities: of parallel universes, of other livable planets and galaxies, of peculiar creatures bearing features similar to human beings, having the same societal issues as we do.
I was never a fan of fiction, especially the fantasy and sci-fi genres. Stories I particularly liked have almost always been inspired by history or real life. I tend to think I’m grounded on reality — a bit too much, maybe — that it’s difficult for me to appreciate narratives that are far from the familiar. Well, that, or I’m simply not creative and imaginative enough.
Believe me, I try.
My best friend is a big fan of the Star Wars franchise. To indulge her and satiate my curiosity, I watched the first six movies. I liked Chewbacca, I thought Queen Amidala and the guy who will eventually be Darth Vader are too flirtatious, and the rest, for me, were forgettable.
I couldn’t finish ET; I was always bored. I didn’t even bother watching Stranger Things on Netflix. I gave up reading A Princess of Mars, a novel by Edgar Rice Burroughs from which I derived the title of my old blog. Much to the dismay of some friends, Doctor Who also didn’t appeal to me so much.
There’s also Star Trek — which, perhaps, may now be considered a classic that paved the way for the public’s appreciation of the genre.
Star Trek had a different charm, though. Even if I have no clue what it’s about, why people like it, who the characters are, and how to even introduce myself to its elaborate storyworld that span decades, I felt drawn to it.
A big factor could be the deep admiration Patricia Evangelista, a multimedia journalist I’ve looked up to since high school, has for Star Trek. I wanted to know how the franchise shaped her perspective of life and humanity, how it helped form her style of writing. By watching those that influenced her, I thought I may learn to be more like her.
I could’ve easily given up on the sci-fi genre. That would’ve been a lot easier than the way I just let go of things I love doing — such as photography, doodling, or even yoga. Something unexplainable was stopping me, however. Star Trek seemed to be calling on to me to at least give it a try.
One night, I searched the internet for tips on where to start my journey into the franchise. To be sure, there are plenty and they all espouse different, all reasonable, methods. What stuck with me was a YouTube video I didn’t even try to finish, whose description text showed an ordered list of the uploader’s recommendations. On top of it: Star Trek: The Original Series Season 1.
Off I went to Netflix and watched the pilot episode.
I tried to keep an open mind, but I hadn’t expected that within the first five minutes of the show, I’d find myself relating to Captain Christopher Pike.
Great animation and visual effects, given the time the series was produced, and good writing, effectively showing the depth of the characters — Amid a myriad of entertainment options nowadays, these are rare qualities. I’m only on the first episode of Star Trek, and I’m sure this won’t be the last I’m watching. •
I was never a fan of fiction, especially the fantasy and sci-fi genres. Stories I particularly liked have almost always been inspired by history or real life. I tend to think I’m grounded on reality — a bit too much, maybe — that it’s difficult for me to appreciate narratives that are far from the familiar. Well, that, or I’m simply not creative and imaginative enough.
Believe me, I try.
My best friend is a big fan of the Star Wars franchise. To indulge her and satiate my curiosity, I watched the first six movies. I liked Chewbacca, I thought Queen Amidala and the guy who will eventually be Darth Vader are too flirtatious, and the rest, for me, were forgettable.
I couldn’t finish ET; I was always bored. I didn’t even bother watching Stranger Things on Netflix. I gave up reading A Princess of Mars, a novel by Edgar Rice Burroughs from which I derived the title of my old blog. Much to the dismay of some friends, Doctor Who also didn’t appeal to me so much.
There’s also Star Trek — which, perhaps, may now be considered a classic that paved the way for the public’s appreciation of the genre.
Star Trek had a different charm, though. Even if I have no clue what it’s about, why people like it, who the characters are, and how to even introduce myself to its elaborate storyworld that span decades, I felt drawn to it.
A big factor could be the deep admiration Patricia Evangelista, a multimedia journalist I’ve looked up to since high school, has for Star Trek. I wanted to know how the franchise shaped her perspective of life and humanity, how it helped form her style of writing. By watching those that influenced her, I thought I may learn to be more like her.
I could’ve easily given up on the sci-fi genre. That would’ve been a lot easier than the way I just let go of things I love doing — such as photography, doodling, or even yoga. Something unexplainable was stopping me, however. Star Trek seemed to be calling on to me to at least give it a try.
One night, I searched the internet for tips on where to start my journey into the franchise. To be sure, there are plenty and they all espouse different, all reasonable, methods. What stuck with me was a YouTube video I didn’t even try to finish, whose description text showed an ordered list of the uploader’s recommendations. On top of it: Star Trek: The Original Series Season 1.
Off I went to Netflix and watched the pilot episode.
I tried to keep an open mind, but I hadn’t expected that within the first five minutes of the show, I’d find myself relating to Captain Christopher Pike.
Great animation and visual effects, given the time the series was produced, and good writing, effectively showing the depth of the characters — Amid a myriad of entertainment options nowadays, these are rare qualities. I’m only on the first episode of Star Trek, and I’m sure this won’t be the last I’m watching. •