Incomplete

For the sake of honesty, authenticity and my newfound moral code, I see the importance in frequently explaining myself. This is especially the case now with me lately having lacked a presence online, not posting content of any sort. It should be no surprise to a few, given my frankness about mental health and the recent challenges surrounding it which I have faced. The truth is I have not been okay. I have not felt okay. For many days since my birthday (May 3), it has been nothing but survival mode. A state where I'm only ever trying to keep my connections to the world intact. A state where I'm only ever fighting numbness through unfinished business. My life lately is nothing more than a form of imprisonment. I'm waking up each morning, only ever hoping to feel better than mediocre. I'm living through each day, only to find myself at several points in time questioning my own value. This most certainly isn't the best start to life as a 24-year-old.

I could immediately jump ahead and say my recent struggles are due to the way of the world at this very moment. However, I to some extent would only be lying to myself. The war within my mind has been around for many months already, with me having suffered attacks as far back as November last year. Because of this, I have wanted to figure out the real cause of it all. Why for this long and why still? Much to my surprise, finding the answer wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be. Now knowing what it is and having connected the dots, I must continue in following my code by sharing it to the rest. I must go into further detail if I'm to help others in their fight against these mental demons. I'm here after all to prove that I am real and that I am human. This piece is a small journey regarding the evolution of my identity. It is 'The Story of Then' and 'The Story of Now', which includes my encounter with depression and what it really is. Here too lies the meaning of 'Incomplete'. By no means is this piece perfectly written, but it is something I hope every reader will understand.

The Story Of Then

A day, a week or a month. Any of which I cannot exactly recall now. Only the fact that it took place sometime during my final school years or afterward. My eyes had widened to a whole new view of life. It would open up a path that both my heart and mind found comfort in following. A direction that slowly but surely guaranteed my strength as well as the use of knowledge and personal experiences to my advantage. To wake up one morning and suddenly uncover a deeper meaning for each and every one of my interests. To look back and realise the errors of my previous ways. To glide past society's inequitable tags and acknowledge the many talents and levels of distinctiveness manifested by the most animated of souls. This set of new behaviours saw significant growth in me. Growth of no sort I've ever undergone before. It was as if I had turned into somebody completely different. Somebody nearly unrecognisable to myself.

First thoughts hold no surprise. For quite some time, I was very much pleased with my transformation. I now and then came to notice the power behind my new vision. I saw it making me a more appealing person to others. I too well and truly knew of these changes across the years, having felt the effects of them. The traumatising events of my past were hurting me more. There also came a greater amount of concern for how I approached different people. And just about every choice made didn't come without both some hesitation and some risk analysis. My overall levels of awareness and care had rocketed to new heights. Just simply applying greater focus and more reason to everything I did, was enough to convince me that I was utilising my brain a lot better. Of course there remained the inevitable misstep or two and a new lesson learnt from each one. But with my new way of living and my heightened attentiveness, remorse whenever present had never looked stronger.

The first sight of my novel self led to no doubts with my very next move in connecting to the world. Any concealing or constraint of Travis James from here onward, was a matter of allowing fear to take control. It was nothing but wasting a gift bestowed upon me. I simply had to put it all to some good use. With a little help and guidance from my big brother, I took a small first step into realm of social media. From there I was quick to establish contacts, share my hobbies and construct my own communicative blog titled 'It's The Self That Matters'. Everything was a means of maintaining motivation. Not only was I on the search of work, but also online friends with similar interests and topics to inspire me in expanding my grounds of artistic knowledge. Success was small yet satisfying at the time. Throughout the ongoing journey were several occasions when I saw myself having to take a step or two back. However, patience and persistence paid off. It wasn't long after I had both developed further skills in blog work and found the courage in reaching more people on larger social media platforms.

This blog is in fact my second. By this, I mean it was my second attempt. My first take on 'It's The Self That Matters' lasted for much of 2015 and a little bit of 2016. Most pieces I typed up during this time were fairly short and more colourful in tone. A couple were even heavily inspired by my year twelve studies, since I had just come out of school. I never gave myself much room to clarify my point of view and I often allowed my emotions to get the better of me. When even looking back on a few of these pieces months later, I struggled to truly comprehend what I was aiming for. But what pushed me the most into deleting everything and starting over, were the topics I discussed. While none of them were necessarily explicit or inappropriate, one or two I did touch on were to some degree sensitive. Because I had little to no experience in blog writing and no complete understanding of the topics, I was assigning myself some dangerous tasks too early. Tasks which could've caused damage to both my credibility and my reputation.

It only ever came from the smallest of new beginnings. But much of the green shoot which represented this new Travis James and started everything, is often nowadays seen by others to be the best of me. It's my untroubled demeanour and the pure expression of my joys. It's the sharing of pleasures with certain followers and the warmth which emanated from this. For so long, the founding elements of my evolution were the major source of my happiness. However, that was all they ever happened to be. I was in a bubble no different from everybody else's and there came no way of moving forward in it. Never did it mentally weigh me down, though it did encourage a further push from me to mean something more. Especially since that was my plan to begin with. Regardless of the changes either approaching me or being sought after, I had no problems with the process of becoming an all-round better person. Most aspects of who I am now when compared to those of who I was five years ago, leave me to feel prouder of myself in 2020.

The Story Of Now

Little did I know what it really meant in opening my mind to the wonders of the world. Little did I see how it could all fire back at me. For as long as I've known, I was chasing a non-existent identity for myself. One that never came to consider the space for torture. I failed to completely understand my increased brain activity. With all the focus placed on the cognition and perception of my surroundings, sneaking through the back door without any notice was self-reflection. Whilst admiring the world around me, I was forgetting to work out where I myself fitted in the picture. I was forgetting to see where I could inspire others and make a difference. Because of such ignorance, I was unprepared for greater anguish and left to overcome tougher hurdles. My current identity despite being one I am more comfortable with, was at times mistreated. It resulted in the birth of a monstrous battle with depression. A battle which I am still struggling with today.

Witnessing the burning passion along with the extraordinary talents from so many different people is nothing short of incredible. To see the lengths they go to when creating visual and auditory art and the amount of time they dedicate to the entire process, genuinely astounds me to no end. These creative individuals know where their hearts lie. They've managed to find a home for their natural skills and they don't ever seem to fear daunting tasks. Then to also catch a glimpse of the rewards they reap. The smiles on their faces. The close friends they've made and the never-ending love shared between each other. I'm always considerate of their efforts, and quick to idolise them. I try making sure my praise matches their accomplishments. I'm even reaching them privately for advice on an occasional basis. However thanks to self-reflection, there exists another strange attitude towards these folks. A sort of hindrance that I had constructed for myself and cannot seem to remove.

Never is it right for me to compare myself to anyone, but it's a hard habit to break here. Most of whom I've interacted with, have achieved so much to get to where they are today. Their status has grown online and they've further motivated themselves into filling hours with more productive activities. It reaches a point where those such as myself, are slightly less wanted. To some extent, I'm like Wayne and Garth at the first sight of a rock star. I'm always uneasy around everyone that dedicates a lot of their time and effort for me, because I'm unsure as to how much influence I have on them. With their work being of a higher quality, my default belief is that I have nothing more I can give to them besides my utmost respect. Of course it is never anybody's fault for how I cope with this. Howbeit, the success of my fellow users is the catalyst of nearly every nervous breakdown I endure. I'm left inflicting self-punishment and pressuring myself into becoming somebody more worthy of everyone's time.

There are a couple of reasons why I'm not regularly communicating with certain people online. The first of them regards my inexperience in social interaction. Due to my lack of friends and disturbing past experiences, I have difficulty in stepping forward and delivering the first word. However, I find the second of the two reasons to tell more of the story. I have the tendency to devalue myself every time I associate with strong achievers and other extremely friendly characters. Despite the forever existing option to make contact whenever I please, I remain feeling unprivileged in doing so. Especially when these people have closer friends they are more accepting towards and more intimate with. The best example of this is when I am mentioning and tagging users on Instagram. Out of respect for everyone's lives and accomplishments, I am most times keeping a distance from people unless they are otherwise okay with a regular presence from me. Regardless of whether or not I like it, I treat this as something I have to do. Never do I wish to look like or become an irritating fanboy.

Behind my multiple nervous breakdowns are solid realisations. I'm reminded of how I began my transformation without any demonstrative abilities or proper insight of myself. I'm regularly haunted by the many components I do not possess. I'm teased by the absence of shoulders to lean on. The brilliance from every single one of my idols now and then, hints how distant I am from much of the world. In the midst of any breakdown I suffer, my mind is almost in a state of paralysis. I move around the room in tears, with nothing but the worst thoughts inside my head. I lose all focus in what I'm doing and don't have the energy to perform any other activity. The worst thing about these attacks on my brain, is that there is no proper cure. I have no one I can immediately turn to. No friends I can reach on the phone. No family member who will truly understand my situation. I'm left with no choice but to fight through each of these tough moments alone. Perhaps the fact that I'm still standing means something. But no breakdown is ever wanted, especially those of my kind.

My battle with depression doesn't just stop at breakdowns though. From the top, I mentioned how much of May so far has been me waking up each morning and hoping to feel somewhat good about everything. Most days when depression doesn't strike me as hard, I remain tormented by the sporadic thoughts regarding my place in the world. I'm first left working out what mood I am in, only to then be constantly asking myself the same questions. What is it that I can do? Is my vision strong enough? Does anybody outside my family honestly care about me? Am I really worth it? I do try my best to fight these with whatever positive beliefs I can think of. But having still achieved very little and being no closer to solidifying my aspirations, I'm provided with fewer options. To think that I have just not long ago turned 24 (at the time of creating this piece) and am continuing to see no advantages or clear paths for myself, is kind of humiliating.

I've long grown up with no known talents and nothing to work with. Regardless of the many times I've sung as a child, I cannot sing. Despite having now and then danced in front of other people, I cannot dance. No matter how many times I sat in front of a keyboard, I couldn't play it properly. My family couldn't even afford me any music lessons with an instrument. I tried holding a guitar once, only for my fingers to fail in keeping a certain position. I could only ever love sport, not having the strength to partake in any. I can't do flips or parkour. I'm only ever an intermediate in art as my painting and drawing remains average. I have a hard time being funny or entertaining because I am not quick-witted. I even struggle to speak or improvise, which may hurt my chances at wanting to do acting. It took years in learning how to tie my shoe laces and just as long with whistling and clicking my fingers. If this isn't embarrassing, then I don't know what is.

But here's what really hurts me the most about myself. For every activity, there lives and breathes a community of people. The people within each community build unbreakable familial bonds through their intense passion and incredible knowledge of the activities. They not only share interests, but also skills and practices; much to the point where they could find joy in helping each other out. All of this is something I see myself unlikely to ever experience. While I do enjoy certain activities, my love for each doesn't meet such levels. My knowledge is substandard and I bear none of the associative skills. I picture it as being in every room with at least one foot hanging outside the door. Take cosplay for instance. In spite of the warm words received from a few community members here, a part of me still clings onto the general idea that I don't feel as welcome. That I don't contribute enough and I cannot influence anybody. Because my actions don't speak loud and my resources are few, people will have a hard time noticing me. No matter where I go or what I do, I fear that I won't ever make close friends because there is never enough of me to love and appreciate. I'm too much of an outsider. In almost every way, I feel incomplete.

My efforts in cosplay are obviously small due to me beginning the activity not long ago. But there is something that further drags me down. Cosplay is highlighted when people are able to really bring the characters to life. They are able to deliver accurate representations with the right resources and the right actions. Not to forget their work is visually captured in good quality. This is why most cosplay sharing pages don't share my work. I rely on heavy editing and filters to remove hideous colours. I don't pose or get into character as often due to my own lack of resources and working space. And finally because of Instragram's natural decreasing of a photo's resolution once it's posted, the quality of my shots are made to look much worse. They are more grainy and and more foggy depending on the device which they are seen on. The sad truth is my work isn't amazing and it won't ever move that many people. I don't seem to look or feel like Spider-Man, but rather just a guy in a Spider-Man costume.

The accompanying picture for this piece correlates with the idea of me feeling incomplete. Just about every part of it represents a certain interest and how I fail to go all the way with them. The half with my face speaks for self-expression. It's the ongoing journey of defining my character. The half of me shown here is my ability to create abstract ideas and conceptualise physically existing ones, while the half of me missing is my shortage of talents and inability to form physical products with proper efficiency. The half of me as Spider-Man particularly focuses on my cosplay. Visible is the side of honouring not just the character, but the general idea of another's work. The part missing is my inability to truly become the character I'm cosplaying as. It's me failing to embrace cosplay in its entirety. And the whole picture being monochromatic represents my journey as a self-proclaimed artist. The light symbolises basic knowledge while the absence of further colour speaks for my creative limitations.

At some point and for quite a while, I persisted with a line in my Instagram bio. My dreams are your reality. Nobody ever truly understood what it meant, but it just about spoke for my state of affairs. I was alone and friendless. Always disconnected from the outside world and never belonging to any society. I couldn't do enough to influence anybody. No matter when I tried pushing, I had no kind of support and no one to look to. No matter how hard I tried pushing, I could never get over the line. My whole existence had warped into one of misfortune and social rejection. It had pushed me towards believing that there was nothing and nobody for me here, which was a further step towards suicide. A state that had me thinking "God. You've made a mistake". The disconnection is still somewhat noticeable for myself today. What's normal and common for everybody else, is seen as magic to me. Whenever I come across the apparent influence I create for others, it's forever tears and pure disbelief. It's me refusing to accept that I can ever have that kind of power.

All of this has brought to me some answers about mental health. That unlike anxiety at most times, depression cannot be completely eradicated. Once somebody has it, they are likely living with it for the rest of their lives. The only thing anyone can really do, is restrict its impact. To manage it and fight it well enough so that it never (or at least rarely) becomes a problem moving forward. The proof is in my experience with both. My existential crisis back in 2018 whilst an insufferable and long-lasting anxiety attack, was only ever a fear of the surface. The simple view of life and death along with the process of living. My brother (who I caught it from) best described it as 'being trapped inside one's own body'. It's even sometimes treating life as a simulation. Depression on the other hand, involves an awful lot of self-reflection. It is one's specific purpose of living and fitting into the giant jigsaw puzzle. It's the pressures often teasing the victim and leaving them in distress.

Depression too depending on its level of impact, can play tricks on the mind. Still to this day, it has me temporarily forgetting much of what has happened. The few words of support I have received get lost within the fog. A breakdown or anything similar which I endure, pretends to be a reset. Back to a starting position, where the same fiendish thoughts plague me. Nobody really cares. Nobody understands. I'm a sad excuse for a soul. In many moments, I do things with a weight on my back. When I well and truly know I can think straight, I'm not. I've proven this through my Instagram journey of pictures. I'm always writing what goes through my head under most posts of mine, forgetting that I may have already addressed certain ideas. It sees me often repeating myself, which hurts because I usually detest this sort of repetition coming from anyone. These mind games turn me into someone I am not and give me more of an incentive to hate myself.

And worst of all is this. No matter where I go or what I do, the only ever company I have is depression. Like my own personal storm cloud every time I step outside the front door. This was the case back in January when I tried to live a carefree day and take my mind off all the pressures. I decided on a relaxing adventure by foot around the Melbourne CBD, only for it to not end up so relaxing. It was the dullest of days with occasional showers. I was unsettled like most by the raging bushfires in Eastern Victoria. Alone with very little knowledge of the area, I lost my way around the west side of the city. Not to mention I too lost possession of my valuables, leaving me to rush around and retrace my footsteps in order to find them. My trip left me wanting to do it again around this time, but the ongoing global pandemic had thwarted my plans. I don't know why, but nothing ever seems to work out for myself. I'm only left to assume life hates me at the moment.

Through all the pain of my depression though, the pillars of my transformation stand strong. I am always making certain I have everybody else's best interests at heart. My words remain kind, considerate and supportive of both them and their success. I am forever hoping and looking for ways to ensure nobody is frustrated or unsettled by my problems. But perhaps my morals see me taking this a little too far. In spite of the words from a few I have received about the ignorance I will normally come across, I continue taking the blame for everything. When people turn their back on me, I tend to believe they are right in doing so. I look to it as me not being enough to satisfy them. As not doing enough to earn their attention and full respect. My habit of taking responsibility for actions that are not mine, is my desperation on show. It is me doing whatever I can to find a mate. The world can do no wrong in my eyes, even when it shows its cruelty and spits in my face.

I share this story not for pity or sympathy, as they are merely a choice for the reader that reflects their own morality. I share this story in the hopes of earning trust. To tell all of how real I am and how I am the furthest thing from perfect there is. I share this story, knowing I have to if I'm to find the light. I share this story to inform everybody about depression and what it can look like. I wish to guide people away from the darkness and keep them from hurting like I have been. I don't believe that chemicals or drugs are ever the solution. I believe people are. I believe sharing my story to anyone and everyone is my best chance of finding close friends and the right support. I believe it is the best chance of bringing forth my fortunes and making my dreams come true. To all that have come this far and to all who have supported me during these darkest of months, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are my means of survival and you are my potential angels. Hopefully someday in the not too distant future, there will be someone to truly make me feel welcome and turn my life around.

Travis "TJ" James

Sore Thumbs

June last year saw a piece written by me called 'Human Value', concentrating on what I believed were the keys to making a great person. It was both a brief and basic view of the idea, simply lighting the way for us to become somebody of merit to the world. Never though, did this piece consider the measure of it all. Not once did it touch on what made for an 'intriguing' person. It is one thing to be good, helpful and dexterous in our approaches to achieve any status that warrants huge respect. But how much we allow for this to stand out from the crowd, is something else which requires a greater focus. We live knowing that some personalities shine brighter than others. Certain people manage to capture more eyes or have a larger influence on their followers. It can be assumed the systems in life which represent luck play a part in opening the door wider for some. However, it is nothing short of obvious that our characters rely most on our efforts in making them seen from a distance.

Every single one of us, is first handed the challenge of being more than what any pair of eyes can already see. The means of building our separate identities, rightly combats unwanted discrimination and welcomes 

Being an intriguing character is all about the detail.











All of this steams back to Art, which is the detail of 

Travis "TJ" James

The Devolution Of Art

Your elders are at you with words of disdain about today's world whilst reminiscing of the times when life to them seemed more respectable. They smile about the absence of sophisticated and overly-convenient technology. They hurry to separate themselves from the 'out-of-control' millennials. They're quick to suggest that everything is getting worse. You then reply with 'OK Boomer', but never do you stop to contemplate the open thoughts of such experienced relatives and associates. This is where I step in. As a man in his early twenties at the time of sharing this piece, I introduce you properly to the clear possibility that what you have heard is for the most part correct. No? Then would you be able to explain why a Gen Y fellow like myself, bears an uncommon distaste for a lot of today's art and entertainment? Why is it that am I not listening to modern music stations? Why is it that I am not watching many modern movies? Why is it that I don't regularly party? Why is it that I don't favour video games as much as I did during my pre-teen years?

Consider me somewhat of an outlier. Life and it's latest mainstream gifts don't quite impress me as much. In fact, I edge closer towards detestation. Regardless of where and when, I'm occasionally left seeing certain aspects of the world nowadays in a less beautiful way. One of them is indeed Art. Each time I expose myself to the works of old whilst examining the stuff of today, I find myself feeling more upset and more angry with the direction masses are taking us all. I can't help but think that creativity is dying and that political correctness along with the many other societal pressures are restricting the flow of marvellous ideas. Art as a whole, currently appears more plastic and unimaginative. Almost everything is made to focus on profits and political messages, while the best of new content is immediately stored in the attic. Instead of demonstrating in our creations how far our minds can go, we as a collective are more worried about how close to reality we reach.

It was just recently, my eyes had widened to an unpleasant yet seemingly truthful detail. Throughout much of the years coming up to (and including) what's been seen of 2020 so far, humankind has itself tangled in its own web. A systematic way of living that gets dodgier by the day. The greatest gift being the source of knowledge and understanding, is now more than ever abused by its past mistakes and weaponised by the most dangerous of bearers. The quality of our inventiveness, unjustly pressured and sacrificed by our mistreatment of time and money. The room for minds to breathe and expand on the beauty of abstract concepts, continues shrinking towards a size unsuitable for use. Yet another pin into the future balloon, telling us that the time ahead is not always going to be the sunshine and rainbows we were once left to believe as young and impressionable children (Unforeseeable). Just when one thinks we humans are the smartest living species on planet Earth, we keep attempting to find ways in ensuring our idiocy meets with our intellect.

The cruelty to creativity has had a noticeable impact on the general population. Rarely do many in this day and age put much thought into what's given to them. They never truly connect with their individuality, instead choosing to stick with the leaderless flock. It's all about blind appreciation and interests built on shallow reasons. It's deciding whether to follow the trends of today, become one the trends of today, or perhaps both. Enjoying the finer details has been treated as something so complex, it has left these people not ever wanting to discover things for themselves. Music only has to be "catchy" to be loved. Same thing goes with movies being "cool" or "epic". Depth in analysis is nearly non-existent to them, which only opens the door for plastic, cookie-cutter material to receive praise older generations would (and should) regularly question. The laziness has even extended beyond the realms of Art. In a world where I find trust hard to come by (The Truth About Trust), there appears to be an awful lot of people believing everything they hear. This is especially with the news and current affairs. Take the sensationalism surrounding the COVID-19 pandemic, and how it's brainwashing people into clearing the supermarket shelves of toilet paper, cleaning products and staple foods.

From where I stand, Art and Pop Culture are just becoming terms which describe imagination. The qualities that had made these so incredibly special, are now more often than not archived in favour of commercial and/or political gains. Take for instance Hollywood and the film industries. The roaring box office successes of the cinemas nowadays like Avengers: Endgame (whilst tapping into the historical relevance of Marvel Comics), look to me as being more about how extravagant they can become as a viewing experience. Elsewhere, studios are forking out millions to spend on projects for the sole purpose of competing with each other like it is some sort of popularity contest. From the overabundance of franchise sequels to the endless remakes of classic masterpieces, filmmakers and producers fight their way  into their respective careers only to end up chasing for coin and nothing else. Think of the product placements in almost everything today. What about the fact that there exists a movie all about emojis? Who could forget the female Ghostbusters team? Oh and get this, they are making yet another Batman film.

Spreading like wildfire, Art's descent also extends to the world of music. As many of you may know, I am a HUGE lover of music. It's evident on my Instagram, and I've too written a piece about my love for it here (Don't Stop The Music). I just enjoy where my favourite songs take me, especially in times of sorrow or struggle. And because my joy in it involves nothing but listening, I do believe I can understand the true fabric that is life's never-ending sea of beautiful melodies. Music to me is a bit of everything. The rhythm, the pattern, the energy, the message, etc. It's kind of why my taste in songs expands to include several decades and several different genres. However, I currently find myself not turning on the radio much. The reasons are quite clear to me here, and they are further solidified whenever I update myself with charts and samples online. It is a known fact that good music is becoming harder to find. Most songs played regularly on music stations today, tend to sound similar to one another. And the sad truth is that this is the intention from music producers and record labels. It is becoming harder money-wise to promote unique singers and songwriters. So many people are left just wanting to take cheap shortcuts, gaining a profit through plastic tunes that they believe have the potential to go viral. Musicians are more about their image instead of their work, all to ensure they sell well enough. Not to mention we listeners as a collective are left with shorter attention spans, leaving much of this century's music to be better forgotten when it's finished charting. It's also kind of why modern pop music doesn't resonate as well as the stuff of the 60's, 70's and 80's.

And television you might ask? Well don't be surprised here. A lot of what is shown on TV now is heavily manufactured. Is Reality TV really reality, or is it just another oxymoron? Think about it. Is it possible to act perfectly normal when there is a large camera in front of your face? It shouldn't be hard to understand that all reality television is scripted and pre-recorded to make time for processing. Producers are adding the suspenseful music. They are making the necessary cuts. They are doing whatever they can to get strong reactions from the audience. Some contestants of reality shows have even come out saying how they've been forced into portraying themselves as someone they weren't. The average home viewer is basically being lied to and they are refusing to see it. On the other side there is the content that we know is scripted. The content that we know takes longer to make. How is this affected? All you have to do is look around and listen. You will very likely come across a complaint from a fair few regarding how politicised certain material can be, and most of the time they aren't wrong. Instead of an imaginative tale, we're often receiving another source of news and politics we may wish to escape from.

What is the relevance of all this to us? How does this affect us when we're all going about our own lives and continuing to do what we love? I for one, just think it is important to take time in looking at where we as people have come from. We need to respect the origins of everything we love and appreciate in the art world. I genuinely believe this is what helps keep the joy and necessary effort in creativity alive. If we ignore it, we're leaving it to wither away and die. It is a another step towards inappropriately treating time as an enemy. To lose patience can then lead to the loss of motivation. Not wanting to think long and hard about the work we produce for others. Not attending to every small detail. Not wishing to express originality, but instead taking the work of others and twisting it enough to make it seem like it's completely ours. I don't wish in anyway to sound factual here, as Art will forever remain subjective. But to question the significance of what I'm discussing here, could possibly to some degree indicate that you don't quite spend the time you have to truly embrace what makes art and entertainment so special and so incredibly inviting.

As a matter of fact, all of this has played a small role in helping shape me as a person. I devote a small bit of myself to the cosplay community. I find cosplayers to be one of Art's saving graces. They not only showcase their talent in craft, but also reflect their passion through bringing their favourite works of fiction to life. They don't ever care about how old the material they touch on is. They don't (or at least shouldn't) ever discriminate each other for the way they display their efforts and interests. The community despite my distance from it, looks incredibly friendly. It's actually a place where I hope to find and make a few real friends, since I come from not having any. Cosplay is purely positive, respecting the historical creations of older and more experienced artists. Whether it be films, television, comic books and other literature, or even standard artwork. It is not necessarily a career choice for the majority, but cosplay can help further advance each and every person's journey. And that journey turns it into a story worth sharing to the world.

Another part I devote myself to is photography. Unlike most Art studies which ironically force ideas and lessons onto you, photography allows you the room to truly express yourself. It's just learning about the basics of a proper camera and capturing life in motion. You get to choose everything for yourself and form your own identity from it. You allow yourself the opportunity to create visually and aesthetically pleasing work. It is another brilliant way in bringing abstract into reality and can too discover new comfort for the photographer. Now and then on my Instagram, I do all I can to attempt creating something powerful and worthwhile with nothing but an old phone, a 2×2 square metre space and a few small resources. I aim to tell stories and forward inspiring messages in ways I am capable of to make me feel better for what I cannot achieve at the moment. Photography and basic editing has been so welcoming to me. And while my work may not ever look incredible, I do tell myself that my vision extends beyond just the picture.

Our survival will depend a fair bit on how the world runs in these times, but that doesn't necessarily make it okay. In many ways, we are abusing our own minds. We are abusing the power that can come from them. We shouldn't be hindering our movements or limiting our options. Think of the infinite and ever-expanding range of possible ideas we can give birth to. Focus on whatever senses you currently have and appreciate what they do for you. Be inspired and inspire others. Make yourself some room and some time to both discover the beauty within all that you love and create something that can be seen in the same way. Most of Art right now needs saving. If it's to evolve, it needs to without us taking anything away from it. For myself, I'll be looking ahead with the hope that our ability to captivate different people in true fashion won't take anymore of a wrong turn. I'll be hoping that plenty of us will still see the true nature of Art, and keep it shining bright. Perhaps even return it to its former glory.

It may come across as a source of jokes and sound for the most part stereotypical, how older people talk about their years growing up being better than ours. But these opinions can actually be quite reasonable. There looks to be a growing ignorance for nature and history. There is little heart and little time dedicated into thinking outside the box. We're coaxing one another into constantly updating ourselves with the hopes of always coming off as something new and fresh. We're forcing each other into acting alike for cheap recognition (I will admit this has sort of affected me, and I'm not a fan of it). And there isn't a time now when somebody isn't easily offended by certain work, leaving doors to slam shut on multiple concepts. Both imagination and freedom of self-expression are devolving in front of our very eyes. Nowadays, we as a society are practically accepting cheap take away at a five star hotel without any hesitation whatsoever. Whether I am alone on this or not, I refuse to ignore depth and meaning in my work. I refuse to ever give up encouraging myself and others into keeping their brains active. I will continue searching for the beautiful in our achievements. I will play my role in saving Art.

Travis "TJ" James

ARROW: ViewerVision

Arrow was an American superhero series developed by Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim and Andrew Kreisberg. It was based on the DC Comics character called Green Arrow, a crime-fighter and skilled archer created by Mort Weisinger and George Papp. The show centres around Oliver Queen (Stephen Amell), a wealthy playboy who's found on a small island after five years missing and presumed dead. Oliver returns home to his family and friends in Starling City, though with him comes a new attitude, new skills and a new cause. He decides to put everything to use and fight crime as a hooded vigilante with a bow and arrows. To honour his late father, Oliver takes it upon himself to target all those listed in his father's notebook. But things become less clear for him when a few people learn of his secret and other matters get in the way. From some point onward, this new Oliver Queen is left to figure out who he truly is as well as what he is destined to achieve. Here are seven questions regarding commonly thought opinions from the general audience about Arrow:

1. What had happened to Felicity Smoak?

It was sometime in the midst of the first season when we were introduced to tech-savvy Felicity Smoak (Emily Bett Rickards). She immediately became Oliver's go-to woman for assistance in all matters requiring a computer. Everybody instantly fell in love with her, as she'd go about her business with the sweetest of smiles and the dorkiest of attitudes. Many of us had too caught on to her secret attraction with Oliver, and were quick to further nudge the likes of Guggenheim into lighting a romantic flame from the sparks. There was no doubt about it. Felicity soared into fan favouritism for bringing the light in the dark hour, providing most of whatever humour was offered. But a further two or three seasons in, then saw a drastic change. Almost a complete 180 that would have the IT girl going from being a chocolate cake to a poisonous mushroom. How was this possible? What exactly happened for it to turn out this way?

Felicity's place in team Arrow was always met with strong welcome. But it looked as if things started taking a turn when the writers further explored the waters of the much anticipated 'Olicity' relationship. With each passing moment, the couple grew stronger and their romance became more of its own theme within the series. At the same time however, we were gradually introduced to a side of Felicity that we just couldn't ever seem to appreciate. She would more often than not, allow her emotions to get the better of her. She would be seen as overly demanding and she would often twist ethics to suit her personal preferences. Not making the situation any better, was the amount of attention thrown towards her character. Many people felt Felicity was taking over, as stories involving her parents as well as her business work took much of the focus away from Oliver. Stories were heavily driven by computers and hacking, leaving the Green Arrow at certain times becoming a trivial plot device in his own show. Felicity as a result of everything, had turned into a package of excess drama. She was overworked and force-fed to every viewer in a way that almost left her irredeemable. It was damage that took quite some time to fix.

I myself, was not much different from others when seeing the problems. During the first couple of years as I slowly but surely built my interest in Arrow, my view of Felicity Smoak was like most. I naturally warmed up to her vibrant presence and I too foresaw the significant role she would play throughout the series. For me, it was all about her enchanting personality and how many other characters she could create chemistry with. But strangely enough, I was never one to chase for the Oliver and Felicity romance. I was still too invested in Laurel Lance (Katie Cassidy), and I couldn't help but think that 'Olicity' was just not going to work out well. At least for a little while I was right. Felicity in the end didn't so much become a character I disliked, but rather one I lost all feeling for. She was nothing more than 'meh' to me. All the magic was lost and there was just no way for anybody to bring it back. I like to think a lot of the reason was how misused she was, since it was seasons three and four when I began to experience this.

2. Was having a team of vigilantes the way to go?

Any issue here I feel would be more linked to the people behind the series rather than the series itself. The truth is that there was no possible way for Oliver Queen to go about his work as the Green Arrow all on his own for eight seasons. One of the few things that made this show so highly respected for me was the development and impact of certain friendships, especially those involving Oliver. There's no looking past the deep and lasting impact loyal right-hand man John Diggle (David Ramsey) had on his best friend, with Oliver having confirmed this a few times himself. The love from Felicity also played a major part. But it did not just stop here. Over a span of eight years, the Green Arrow was made to inspire a new wave of vigilantes. Both his legacy and spirit too was shown to live on through his children, a further twenty years into the future. In spite of the numerous highs and lows experienced by each and every friend both past and present, Oliver and the gang couldn't ever deny the influence they had on each other.

A team Arrow was always the way to go. But this isn't to say that there weren't moments the team game had failed to work properly. Here is when it becomes more of a 'behind the scenes' problem. I did come to notice the difficulty of keeping Oliver at centre stage whilst he led a fairly large team several times throughout the back half of the series. There is a lot of responsibility in writing stuff like this for a show. One has to ensure that each member gets a fair share of the spotlight. They have to carry a certain purpose and distinct fighting skills, all whilst too building a unique relationship with most of the other members. Arrow has once or twice, struggled to handle big teams of vigilantes. Occasionally the leader was lost within the group and other times had seen one or two characters fast written out. Because of the many bigger challenges faced towards the end, Oliver adopting the 'strength in numbers' practice was always ideal. But what hurt him here was something beyond the Arrowverse.

3. Was killing off Earth 1 Laurel Lance a huge mistake?

There will never be any concrete answer to this, since there's no telling what was to happen next had Laurel not get killed off. Let's just say though that it most definitely was a mistake at the time. And after a couple of decisions the crew went with for season five, it can be concluded that they saw it as somewhat of a mistake too. The approach Arrow had taken to fix what it broke here was one I found to be too unimaginative and overly convenient for my liking. Sure it opened the door for another actress to shine and allowed Cassidy more of a chance to explore her acting range, neither of which I can complain about. However, these two ideas couldn't be stopped from appearing like a band aid solution given the time they were brought in. They were merely a cheap way of covering the shot wound in the show's foot. Earth 1 Laurel's death most likely looks alright now, since a fair number of us had to adjust to the new direction. Plus, we were given a fair bit of time to do so. But as I said, there is still no finding a concrete answer to this question. It will only ever be a matter of opinion.

4. Did the future storyline truly succeed?

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5. Was Oliver Queen done dirty in the end?

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6. Exactly how good was season five?

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7. Exactly how bad was season four?

Really Bad, and I do mean REALLY BAD! Abysmal may be a better way of putting it. I would nearly consider season four of Arrow the worst of all the Arrowverse seasons. It was the season that almost broke me and left me not wanting to continue with the show. And to think I won't have much to say here, as I try hard to forget it even exists. Perhaps I am going a little over the top with this, but then again there has rarely been a time when I've felt this way about any part of a television show. Ignore the thoughts of "expert" critics for a second and compare this abomination to the rest of the series. Season four in my eyes ended up being so corny and unprofessionally written. The story looked out of place, and many parts just seemed as they were heavily inspired by fan fiction and soap operas. It was flooded with unlikable characters and painful moments. Not even the annual crossover with The Flash could save it as that too was a forgettable event. Sorry peeps, but I'm probably going to need help in finding something positive about these episodes since I cannot recall a single thing. Can you blame me?

It turns out I am not alone here either. The fourth season is known for its bad reputation and has long been the butt of many jokes online. Common criticisms have cited many reasons for its debacle from the villain Damien Darhk (Neal McDonough) to the entire storyline. People saw the concept of magic as being unsuitable for the show's overall atmosphere. Stunts and choreography were too labelled by a few as looking more like teen movie dance battles than proper fight sequences. A majority of viewers had expressed disapproval of Felicity along with her large amount of screen time and the direction her character was taken. Not to forget most comic book lovers were left appalled by the writing room's decision to kill off Laurel Lance/Black Canary. Even some of the costume designs such as Diggle's spartan helmet received ridicule. In relation to Arrow's recognized approach and past success, season four as a whole was both unconvincing and overly attentive to its audience.

Travis "TJ" James