Please ignore the euphemism that is my title. I was just wanting to say a hey to this big, gleaming sphere of blogos (it's like calling someone a wino, but with more pretentious wit and less blurring of grammar rules. Actually, strike out that last bit) that I've just recently joined. Soon, you will realise the complete lack of ability I have in the worlds of narrative and the written word but, let's be clear about this, it should be fun. Perhaps. With some luck.
Moving on.
Recently I've been suffering from the worlds most horrendous terminal illness. Well, terminal in a creative sense of the word. I've become a sufferer of writers block. This is not as it sounds, a giant piece of cobblestone tied to my pen (I know you Minecraft addicts were thinking it) but instead the complete lack of inspiration to write. So I find myself here exploring the great beyond of my mind thanks to a sense of melancholic despair and a Justin Bieber track I found that had been slowed down 800% and sounded like someone exploring the electric impulses of my synapses.
Surprisingly, given my writers' block, I found it overgrown. The pot plants of my psyches' front veranda overflowing their bounds, the lawn unkempt and unruly with the crabgrass of my subconscious slowly winning the turf war (...cause it's lawn...get it?) against my boring self and last weeks newspapers piling up in the farthest corner where the annoying paper boy throws them seemingly on purpose to test his aim just to get to me. What was I talking about?
I found many ideas, but realised quickly and abruptly:
None of this is interesting.
You see, being a gamer, I like to talk about games. Unsurprisingly. However, people don't want to read a blog about your latest foray into the world of nerdery if it involves anything past a controller and a terrorists' head being blown into the gritty brown wall behind it somewhere in Afghanistan.
I retreat back into my boarded up house, finding more talk of miniatures, cards, indie puzzle games, final fantasy jokes. On and on, I wade through the flotsam and jetsam of a games junkie. Soon I feel despair that I'll ever find anything interesting or entertaining for the mass blogosphere until I hit something that overlaps in the great venn diagram of games and philosophy.
Ludology.
A really cool concept in dismantling games. It simply looks at gameplay, how a game is structured, made. It judges it's rules, it's complexities, it's way of levelling the playing field for everyone. The tactics.
Interestingly, you would think that a complex, academic way of dismantling and analysing games would eschew you're gamer staples, such as the Call of Duty series or even things such as Super Mario 3. The great thing is, often and knowingly, it encourages these things.
The thing about COD: Modern Warfare and it's successor was that it played well. Really well. These were games that were spit shined and spit shined until they played well, looked beautiful and encouraged people to introduce themselves. This isn't to say there aren't problems, the fact that the "noob-tube" exists is contrary to my previous argument, but no game is perfect. And the 'tube' serves a purpose. An awe-inspiringly exploitable, annoying and obvious purpose. It helps noobs.
However, using the same tools that you used to judge this AAA title, with millions of dollars poured into it's mixing pot of production, you can judge a game made in someones' little scummy meth (read: games) lab in a matter of weeks. VVVVV is an indie darling made by one man and it involves 8 bit graphics, an eerie soundtrack and only 3 action buttons. One to move your character left, one to move your character right and one to change the direction of gravity. This game plays smoothly and has a generous checkpoint section that makes it's difficulty bearable as well as making the game more user friendly. It's puzzles can be worked out in a variety of methods, with the trial and error method probably not being a great one but often used. Check it out, it's pretty cool.
Ludology can deal with any game from any background. However it falters greatly. I recently realised that this made the method unusable for me. And many others. Ludology ignores the story a game tells for it's nuts and bolts build. This means that, despite a game like Final Fantasy X with it's amazing storyline, great character design and set pieces, it becomes broken in the eyes of ludology. Because there is no "jump button" and this lowers user accessibility, because the movement is linear, because the combat isn't overly shaken up during the entire story and because the levelling system is broken in more ways than one. But this is one of the classic games of our generation! Ok...maybe only for gamers, but still. The method is broken.
It's like saying: "I found Inglorious Basterds only OK. The scenes are really long, and the action only happens very occasionally". You ignore the tension in the dialogue, the acting, the entire reason for the film! Ludology is the main form of games deconstruction, yet it ignores such a basic premise of creation. Games don't just have to made for fun. They can say something too.
...It would be good if they were fun too of course...just saying.
On second thoughts, perhaps ludology isn't really a big overlap between my interests and others. Perhaps I have been searching through my minds proverbial loo instead of my fridge and given you the meal of un-related turd instead of spicy Italian thought sausage. But I enjoyed this rant. And Damn right you better enjoy my rants to come!
Because Shady is here folks, and here to stay!
(Hey next week I might post thing good so stick around, eh?)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Awkard silence...
Good evening my blog offspring; my bloffspring (YES! I love it, good woosion [word fusion]). Every time that I blog I seem to apologise for my absense because I have not posted in far too long, and let me apologise yet again for I have once again been too busy or unimaginative to post anything for quite a while.
The other day I found myself serving two customers (I am a check out chick, or laser babe as I prefer to be called, at Safeway) who were the parents of a girl my sister went to primary school with. Now I have a good memory of St. Luke's parental faces, but I have to admit (oh dear God no!) that I can't remember names that match the faces of parents of people that weren't even my friends (you monster!) and I am usually unable to do a quick parent-child matchup on facial recognition of 2 people at Safeway (how do you live with yourself?!); especially at the butt end of a 7 hour shift. This situation happens often because the school is just around the corner and as such many of the families would use our humble little supermarket for their weekly groceries, and usually I get the "I recognise you but I don't know where from so I'm not going to say anything because I probably only know you from shopping here so often and you just must always be in here when I am because you have nothing better to do with your life than work 34 hours (this week... I am going to be rich) and saying anything will result in an awkward situation" look. I love this look; it is the look of safety for me because it means I can go about my business with my fake work-smile and then politely say "have you got an everyday rewards card?" and then shove them to the side and serve the next customer. At other times I know ther customer very well, I enjoy a nice chat while serving them, and then they are off on their merry way. This time, however, I found myself in a less common but still far too common situation; the semi-strangers spoke to me. With one or two items, this is ok, but these people had an entire trolley full of groceries for me to scan. The woman said hello and asked me how year 12 was going (how dare these people with whom I am very close not remember that I have already finished secondary school and have already started uni), at this point I still had no idea who this couple was. The man looked confused until the woman said to him "oh that's Roxy's sister" in a way that made it seem like it should be obvious; it was not obvious to me and clearly not obvious to the man that we had ever met before. So now my perimeter of who it could be was narrowed down to the parents of my sister's friends, but she has quite a few of those; I decided that I shouldn't persue the issue further. We then enetered 5 agonising minutes of awkward post-mini-conversation silence that made me feel stupid when I asked for an everyday rewards card, even though I get in trouble if I don't ask for it. ANYWAY, the point of this ever so long introduction (yes that was just the introduction) is that I decided to think up a list of GREAT things to say during an awkward silence... and here are some of them (great intoclusion... conclusion to the introduction).
"The other day I got a pizza from the place across the road and there was a curly black hair in it... I hope it was a chest hair."
Bringing up gross things that make local businesses look bad is always a great idea. Who doesn't want to hear about something that may make them throw up just when they are planning dinner. Good move kid.
"My mum likes Skyhooks."
Hmm... I bet she does... your mother's musical taste is very important to me.
"It's a shame to be inside when it is so nice out there."
Classic weather small talk is always interesting, especially when every answer is the same. Who needs variety anyway?
"I am so tired!"
I have to admit that I use this one all the time. Any time that there is a short silence in any conversation I draw attention to how tired I am; it is rarely a lie but usually unneccessary to mention. It does, however, bring up conversation about all the stuff you do instead of sleeping. Actually not sarcastic on this one, unlike the other ones :).
"I was writing for my blog the other day..."
Everyone cares about what you have to say. You should let them know that they can access your opinions whenever you are not around by simply clicking onto the internet. Lucky them.
"So did you see that *insert sporting event or news story* the other day? Wild huh?"
People like sports, and if they don't like sports, they like news. Most people will be horribly shocked by the 13 year old boy who got dumped by his girlfriend so he killed all her family, drained their blood into a bathtub and then drowned her in it when she got home; it's a general agreement that such actions are frowned upon so this is definitely something that can ignite passionate conversation.
"So... how about Collingwood hey? They suck and their supporters have no teeth."
About 20% of AFL supporters are behind the mighty Pies, my mother included. As a Saints supporter her recent victory makes me want to throw up. The other 80% of AFL supprters are behind a different team... and also whoever is playing against the Pies. It is the sad truth for Collingwood supporters, but hey, I had to deal with 'rapist' comments about my players for way too long for me to feel sympathy towards them. I'm sure that the majority of Pies supporters have their own cars and their own teeth, and I was once a defender of the bullied club, but then they heartlessly demolished us in the grand final replay, and I realised that they are the richest club out of everyone so they don't need to be liked. Also, my mother is an insufferable winner, and a worse loser; I have wanted to punch her in the face so many times this season. Anywho, with this comment you have a 79% chance of the person agreeing with you and adding their own comments, a 19% chance of being abused to the shit by a one eyed Collingwood supporter (for those who don't know I am not saying that they are too poor to afford eye care, it means they don't see any other logic but their own), and a 2% chance of runnng into someone like Shady Lewis who cares not for sport, doesn't even know who Joffa is, and thinks AFL is the most boring thing to happen to Victoria since one convict settler said to the other convict settler: "oh I am ALSO her because I stole a tea cosy from my next door neighrbour".
That's all from me folks, I hope that all of your silences are awkward so that you too can benefit from my list of incredibly interesting things to say in an awkward silence. Please note that any interesting fact that you read off the back of a Libra pad (ladies know what I'm talking about) is also a good thing to mention when you are just rocking backj and forth on your feet and looking blankly at another person. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
The other day I found myself serving two customers (I am a check out chick, or laser babe as I prefer to be called, at Safeway) who were the parents of a girl my sister went to primary school with. Now I have a good memory of St. Luke's parental faces, but I have to admit (oh dear God no!) that I can't remember names that match the faces of parents of people that weren't even my friends (you monster!) and I am usually unable to do a quick parent-child matchup on facial recognition of 2 people at Safeway (how do you live with yourself?!); especially at the butt end of a 7 hour shift. This situation happens often because the school is just around the corner and as such many of the families would use our humble little supermarket for their weekly groceries, and usually I get the "I recognise you but I don't know where from so I'm not going to say anything because I probably only know you from shopping here so often and you just must always be in here when I am because you have nothing better to do with your life than work 34 hours (this week... I am going to be rich) and saying anything will result in an awkward situation" look. I love this look; it is the look of safety for me because it means I can go about my business with my fake work-smile and then politely say "have you got an everyday rewards card?" and then shove them to the side and serve the next customer. At other times I know ther customer very well, I enjoy a nice chat while serving them, and then they are off on their merry way. This time, however, I found myself in a less common but still far too common situation; the semi-strangers spoke to me. With one or two items, this is ok, but these people had an entire trolley full of groceries for me to scan. The woman said hello and asked me how year 12 was going (how dare these people with whom I am very close not remember that I have already finished secondary school and have already started uni), at this point I still had no idea who this couple was. The man looked confused until the woman said to him "oh that's Roxy's sister" in a way that made it seem like it should be obvious; it was not obvious to me and clearly not obvious to the man that we had ever met before. So now my perimeter of who it could be was narrowed down to the parents of my sister's friends, but she has quite a few of those; I decided that I shouldn't persue the issue further. We then enetered 5 agonising minutes of awkward post-mini-conversation silence that made me feel stupid when I asked for an everyday rewards card, even though I get in trouble if I don't ask for it. ANYWAY, the point of this ever so long introduction (yes that was just the introduction) is that I decided to think up a list of GREAT things to say during an awkward silence... and here are some of them (great intoclusion... conclusion to the introduction).
"The other day I got a pizza from the place across the road and there was a curly black hair in it... I hope it was a chest hair."
Bringing up gross things that make local businesses look bad is always a great idea. Who doesn't want to hear about something that may make them throw up just when they are planning dinner. Good move kid.
"My mum likes Skyhooks."
Hmm... I bet she does... your mother's musical taste is very important to me.
"It's a shame to be inside when it is so nice out there."
Classic weather small talk is always interesting, especially when every answer is the same. Who needs variety anyway?
"I am so tired!"
I have to admit that I use this one all the time. Any time that there is a short silence in any conversation I draw attention to how tired I am; it is rarely a lie but usually unneccessary to mention. It does, however, bring up conversation about all the stuff you do instead of sleeping. Actually not sarcastic on this one, unlike the other ones :).
"I was writing for my blog the other day..."
Everyone cares about what you have to say. You should let them know that they can access your opinions whenever you are not around by simply clicking onto the internet. Lucky them.
"So did you see that *insert sporting event or news story* the other day? Wild huh?"
People like sports, and if they don't like sports, they like news. Most people will be horribly shocked by the 13 year old boy who got dumped by his girlfriend so he killed all her family, drained their blood into a bathtub and then drowned her in it when she got home; it's a general agreement that such actions are frowned upon so this is definitely something that can ignite passionate conversation.
"So... how about Collingwood hey? They suck and their supporters have no teeth."
About 20% of AFL supporters are behind the mighty Pies, my mother included. As a Saints supporter her recent victory makes me want to throw up. The other 80% of AFL supprters are behind a different team... and also whoever is playing against the Pies. It is the sad truth for Collingwood supporters, but hey, I had to deal with 'rapist' comments about my players for way too long for me to feel sympathy towards them. I'm sure that the majority of Pies supporters have their own cars and their own teeth, and I was once a defender of the bullied club, but then they heartlessly demolished us in the grand final replay, and I realised that they are the richest club out of everyone so they don't need to be liked. Also, my mother is an insufferable winner, and a worse loser; I have wanted to punch her in the face so many times this season. Anywho, with this comment you have a 79% chance of the person agreeing with you and adding their own comments, a 19% chance of being abused to the shit by a one eyed Collingwood supporter (for those who don't know I am not saying that they are too poor to afford eye care, it means they don't see any other logic but their own), and a 2% chance of runnng into someone like Shady Lewis who cares not for sport, doesn't even know who Joffa is, and thinks AFL is the most boring thing to happen to Victoria since one convict settler said to the other convict settler: "oh I am ALSO her because I stole a tea cosy from my next door neighrbour".
That's all from me folks, I hope that all of your silences are awkward so that you too can benefit from my list of incredibly interesting things to say in an awkward silence. Please note that any interesting fact that you read off the back of a Libra pad (ladies know what I'm talking about) is also a good thing to mention when you are just rocking backj and forth on your feet and looking blankly at another person. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Thursday, September 23, 2010
On Boredom, Getting down with the Sickness, and how!
Hello audience
Usually I'd make a blog-related quip here, but I have recently come to the conclusion that a "blog" sounds more like a bottom-feeding swamp creature that survives solely on it's own farts than an interweb based compendium of thoughts. So I'm not going to.
I have recently become rather sick, not in the totally gnarly way, nor the Rage Against the Machine way, but in the way that your throat decides it's going to be hosting some mitotic party for amoeboids who never wish to leave the confines of my tonsils. This wouldn't be so bad if not for the taste, the lack of stomach and the ridiculous pain caused by what I can only describe as the perpetual dance floor of bacterium grinding against one another in a state of drunken ambiguity towards each-others attractiveness so as to cause a whole new generation of bastard bacteria to take up the party once their old-folks (or old-nuclei or whatever bacteria call their ancestors) are long gone. But I digress. Usually, despite this pain, I love getting sick.
Seriously, think about it. Being sick gives you excuses like never before. Watching the entirety of the OC with directors commentary. Pretty sad. Oh, you're sick? WELL! That's OK then. Getting through a large of portion of the extended directors cut editions of both The Fellowship of the Ring AND The Two Towers? Impressive, but not exactly admirably. Oh, your new monkey spleen transplant was rejected? Well then, that seems perfectly reasonable! Playing Magic: The Gathering for the 23th time by yourself? Just...well...just plain dismal. Actually, perhaps being sick doesn't quite cover that one. But my point stands.
It also gives you an excuse to do stuff that you couldn't otherwise do, like begin to write that book you always wanted to, or that song, or that script. There is a bevy of creative outlets for your sickness boredom that can be constructive and conducive to you feeling better than ever once you get your health back. Personally, I've used my sick time to grow a beard. Of course, my ability to grow a beard is similar to an African Elephant's ability to cook a satisfying bacon omelette, but this is hardly relevant. I also use my sick time to catch up on work I really should have done a LOOOOONG while back but never did. It's amazing what the world of sickness can bring you.
The only problem with being sick is you are, well, sick. I was going to be filming this week, which would have been no problem even if I was sick, but unfortunately it turns out my voice went the day I was going to start filming. Just the luck you'd expect of Lewis von Shady. However, I have enjoyed the amount of nothing I've managed to do this week.
I was also pondering the reason for my sickness the other day. While my parents believe it was probably because I have run myself ragged between uni, work and parties, I believe it comes from a different, far more maleficent source.
Because last week, I saw The Last Airbender.
But first, some back-story. I am a huge fan of the TV series Avatar: The Last Airbender. Sure it's techniquely a kids show, but many of the themes are fairly complex, none of the characters are definitively good (Though Aang and Sokka give it a good try) or evil (except, perhaps, The Fire Lord). The scripting was amazing, the story engaging, the animation flawless, the comedic timing without parallel and the action so awesome one can barely describe. It dealt with some pretty heavy characters and ideas, such as Aangs' guilt for the deaths in the war and Zuko's constant search for honour, but never lost it's upbeat attitude and quirky story-telling.
None of these things, unfortunately, have managed to be transferred into the multi-million dollar turd shat out by M. Knight Shyamalan. He wrote it. He produced it. He directed it. He ruined it. This surely seems like the perfect kids mid-year blockbuster. It has colourful environments, a powerful child protagonist, humour and a really cool core idea. What's even better is that he only had to make the first in a trilogy. Now, while fitting an entire season of a TV show into one film isn't easy, it certainly allows a lot more story-telling and character development to take place as you don't have to tie everything up to make it end nicely. What should have been happening in part 1 is a lot of character basing, showing you how each character works, interacts, talks and, almost as important, fights. In the Avatar TV series you really feel attached to just about all the characters. There's not one character that, when they come up on the screen, you fell like "oh god, not that guy, he's so boring" or "she's so dreary" or "he's so predictable".
This movie makes every character seem just about the same with varying levels of anger or fear. You don't really grow attached to any of them as none of them seem to show any sign of a personality, except, surprisingly, Prince Zuko. Dev Patel, in a brilliant casting decision, pulls this character off really well. Every scene with Zuko in it is watch-able, sometimes engaging even. But even then, his problems remain so unexplored he seems almost token at times. His uncle Iroh is almost interesting sometimes, but was horribly miscast as some Pirates of the Caribbean reject so it largely falls on it's face, though interestingly. Everyone else is simply a lump of soggy cardboard pretending to be grief stricken and fearful.
Aang, played by a precocious performing child nobody has even heard of, seems completely unsuited to the job. This kid doesn't look like he knows how to have fun. He also can't act, so I don't know how or why he was chosen.
Sokka, played by Jackson Rathbone, takes everything too seriously and is way to forced. Sokka, voiced by Jack DeSena, was fairly easygoing in the series, and extremely extroverted. He stole every scene he was in! Here, Sokka seems like a tag-along that never wants to be there, a stale character that just shouldn't have gotten past the script editor, let alone given to THAT actor.
Katara...well, there's nothing WRONG with here except she can't act. Otherwise I guess the choice wasn't too far off. Well, not too far off if you go by the movie's arcana. In the series, all the water tribe people were tanned, because they were meant to be tribes of Inuit! In this film we just get a whole lot of white guys posing as Eskimos...It doesn't sit right, I can tell you right now.
The racial differences between the four elements and their respective people also put me off somewhat. The water tribe were meant to be a tanned, strong people able to ward off the harshest environments. Instead we got lazy, white fisherman. The earth kingdom people were supposed to be far more diverse, but in the film they are passed off as purely asian, which always felt wrong. The couple of air nomads I see throughout the film look exceptionally white, when in the series they are by far the most buddhist in their cultural beliefs. I will admit, though, I really dug the Fire Nation being largely sub-continental. That was something that wasn't in the series that actually really worked in the film.
But these are just the casting and ideas decisions that didn't work. There were a whole lot of more practical things that were far worse I can tell you.
The movie is far too short, for the amount of information and story Shyamalabingbong was trying to convey. It comes in at 103 minutes, which doesn't seem exceptionally short, but given he was aiming to include at least 7, maybe 8, episodes of content into this film it really needed a bit more time to develop. Many scenes seem to just skip over themselves before they've reached their conclusion.
The editing is also pretty incredibly choppy, with some jump cuts being made that leave you confused as to what happened and irritated at the direction. At one point, Aang is fighting off a legion of Fire Nation troops in a training circle for airbenders in an air temple. This seemed like it was going to actually be a GOOD fight scene, but as soon as I thought that, it suddenly jumped to Aang somehow on a cliff about to jump off the temple and escape on his glider. I'm sorry, WHAT!? This seems like B movie editing, like what I'd expect as a joke from some grindhouse film or similarly related robert rodriguez mock. Here it just looks cheap and really brings down the movie.
Finally we move to the special effects. Now. If this is an Avatar: The Last Airbender movie, you'd expect the effects to be pretty good yeah?
Well, sir, you'd be wrong, according to M. Knight Shykaka. The effects can only be described as flimsy. When anyone bends any element, it looks like crap. Water looks weak and largely useless. Earth seems like it might as well be air, with no shuddering, no strength. Fire, which fared the worst, looks like you could wave it off with your hand. Air just...well I can't even really see it most of the time. It all just looks really average, as do the benders themselves. Shyamatwain seems to to have just told the actors to flail their arms arbitrarily for a couple of seconds. There is no essence of martial arts, no flow. It just looks stupid. They also stand they're flailing for about 2-3 seconds before anything even seems to happen. Like they're just waking up their awesome elemental powers so they can through another bucket of water at you.
All we can hope now is that the series is renewed under a different director with a team of writers preferably. Maybe we'll get season 2 and 3 given they're own movies as well! A well, a blogger can dream.
See you round folks, this has bee Shady.
Usually I'd make a blog-related quip here, but I have recently come to the conclusion that a "blog" sounds more like a bottom-feeding swamp creature that survives solely on it's own farts than an interweb based compendium of thoughts. So I'm not going to.
I have recently become rather sick, not in the totally gnarly way, nor the Rage Against the Machine way, but in the way that your throat decides it's going to be hosting some mitotic party for amoeboids who never wish to leave the confines of my tonsils. This wouldn't be so bad if not for the taste, the lack of stomach and the ridiculous pain caused by what I can only describe as the perpetual dance floor of bacterium grinding against one another in a state of drunken ambiguity towards each-others attractiveness so as to cause a whole new generation of bastard bacteria to take up the party once their old-folks (or old-nuclei or whatever bacteria call their ancestors) are long gone. But I digress. Usually, despite this pain, I love getting sick.
Seriously, think about it. Being sick gives you excuses like never before. Watching the entirety of the OC with directors commentary. Pretty sad. Oh, you're sick? WELL! That's OK then. Getting through a large of portion of the extended directors cut editions of both The Fellowship of the Ring AND The Two Towers? Impressive, but not exactly admirably. Oh, your new monkey spleen transplant was rejected? Well then, that seems perfectly reasonable! Playing Magic: The Gathering for the 23th time by yourself? Just...well...just plain dismal. Actually, perhaps being sick doesn't quite cover that one. But my point stands.
It also gives you an excuse to do stuff that you couldn't otherwise do, like begin to write that book you always wanted to, or that song, or that script. There is a bevy of creative outlets for your sickness boredom that can be constructive and conducive to you feeling better than ever once you get your health back. Personally, I've used my sick time to grow a beard. Of course, my ability to grow a beard is similar to an African Elephant's ability to cook a satisfying bacon omelette, but this is hardly relevant. I also use my sick time to catch up on work I really should have done a LOOOOONG while back but never did. It's amazing what the world of sickness can bring you.
The only problem with being sick is you are, well, sick. I was going to be filming this week, which would have been no problem even if I was sick, but unfortunately it turns out my voice went the day I was going to start filming. Just the luck you'd expect of Lewis von Shady. However, I have enjoyed the amount of nothing I've managed to do this week.
I was also pondering the reason for my sickness the other day. While my parents believe it was probably because I have run myself ragged between uni, work and parties, I believe it comes from a different, far more maleficent source.
Because last week, I saw The Last Airbender.
But first, some back-story. I am a huge fan of the TV series Avatar: The Last Airbender. Sure it's techniquely a kids show, but many of the themes are fairly complex, none of the characters are definitively good (Though Aang and Sokka give it a good try) or evil (except, perhaps, The Fire Lord). The scripting was amazing, the story engaging, the animation flawless, the comedic timing without parallel and the action so awesome one can barely describe. It dealt with some pretty heavy characters and ideas, such as Aangs' guilt for the deaths in the war and Zuko's constant search for honour, but never lost it's upbeat attitude and quirky story-telling.
None of these things, unfortunately, have managed to be transferred into the multi-million dollar turd shat out by M. Knight Shyamalan. He wrote it. He produced it. He directed it. He ruined it. This surely seems like the perfect kids mid-year blockbuster. It has colourful environments, a powerful child protagonist, humour and a really cool core idea. What's even better is that he only had to make the first in a trilogy. Now, while fitting an entire season of a TV show into one film isn't easy, it certainly allows a lot more story-telling and character development to take place as you don't have to tie everything up to make it end nicely. What should have been happening in part 1 is a lot of character basing, showing you how each character works, interacts, talks and, almost as important, fights. In the Avatar TV series you really feel attached to just about all the characters. There's not one character that, when they come up on the screen, you fell like "oh god, not that guy, he's so boring" or "she's so dreary" or "he's so predictable".
This movie makes every character seem just about the same with varying levels of anger or fear. You don't really grow attached to any of them as none of them seem to show any sign of a personality, except, surprisingly, Prince Zuko. Dev Patel, in a brilliant casting decision, pulls this character off really well. Every scene with Zuko in it is watch-able, sometimes engaging even. But even then, his problems remain so unexplored he seems almost token at times. His uncle Iroh is almost interesting sometimes, but was horribly miscast as some Pirates of the Caribbean reject so it largely falls on it's face, though interestingly. Everyone else is simply a lump of soggy cardboard pretending to be grief stricken and fearful.
Aang, played by a precocious performing child nobody has even heard of, seems completely unsuited to the job. This kid doesn't look like he knows how to have fun. He also can't act, so I don't know how or why he was chosen.
Sokka, played by Jackson Rathbone, takes everything too seriously and is way to forced. Sokka, voiced by Jack DeSena, was fairly easygoing in the series, and extremely extroverted. He stole every scene he was in! Here, Sokka seems like a tag-along that never wants to be there, a stale character that just shouldn't have gotten past the script editor, let alone given to THAT actor.
Katara...well, there's nothing WRONG with here except she can't act. Otherwise I guess the choice wasn't too far off. Well, not too far off if you go by the movie's arcana. In the series, all the water tribe people were tanned, because they were meant to be tribes of Inuit! In this film we just get a whole lot of white guys posing as Eskimos...It doesn't sit right, I can tell you right now.
The racial differences between the four elements and their respective people also put me off somewhat. The water tribe were meant to be a tanned, strong people able to ward off the harshest environments. Instead we got lazy, white fisherman. The earth kingdom people were supposed to be far more diverse, but in the film they are passed off as purely asian, which always felt wrong. The couple of air nomads I see throughout the film look exceptionally white, when in the series they are by far the most buddhist in their cultural beliefs. I will admit, though, I really dug the Fire Nation being largely sub-continental. That was something that wasn't in the series that actually really worked in the film.
But these are just the casting and ideas decisions that didn't work. There were a whole lot of more practical things that were far worse I can tell you.
The movie is far too short, for the amount of information and story Shyamalabingbong was trying to convey. It comes in at 103 minutes, which doesn't seem exceptionally short, but given he was aiming to include at least 7, maybe 8, episodes of content into this film it really needed a bit more time to develop. Many scenes seem to just skip over themselves before they've reached their conclusion.
The editing is also pretty incredibly choppy, with some jump cuts being made that leave you confused as to what happened and irritated at the direction. At one point, Aang is fighting off a legion of Fire Nation troops in a training circle for airbenders in an air temple. This seemed like it was going to actually be a GOOD fight scene, but as soon as I thought that, it suddenly jumped to Aang somehow on a cliff about to jump off the temple and escape on his glider. I'm sorry, WHAT!? This seems like B movie editing, like what I'd expect as a joke from some grindhouse film or similarly related robert rodriguez mock. Here it just looks cheap and really brings down the movie.
Finally we move to the special effects. Now. If this is an Avatar: The Last Airbender movie, you'd expect the effects to be pretty good yeah?
Well, sir, you'd be wrong, according to M. Knight Shykaka. The effects can only be described as flimsy. When anyone bends any element, it looks like crap. Water looks weak and largely useless. Earth seems like it might as well be air, with no shuddering, no strength. Fire, which fared the worst, looks like you could wave it off with your hand. Air just...well I can't even really see it most of the time. It all just looks really average, as do the benders themselves. Shyamatwain seems to to have just told the actors to flail their arms arbitrarily for a couple of seconds. There is no essence of martial arts, no flow. It just looks stupid. They also stand they're flailing for about 2-3 seconds before anything even seems to happen. Like they're just waking up their awesome elemental powers so they can through another bucket of water at you.
All we can hope now is that the series is renewed under a different director with a team of writers preferably. Maybe we'll get season 2 and 3 given they're own movies as well! A well, a blogger can dream.
See you round folks, this has bee Shady.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Gland
Good afternoon blogfiends! I hope that you are all feeling quite well because unfortunately, I am feeling a little under the whether. After weeks of feeling awful and run down, I finally ventured off to the doctor. A 20 minute wait, a short consultation, some cold hands, and a needle in the arm later, I found out that I had been given a massive serving of Glandular Fever with a side order of Tonsilitis; Mysterious Followe of the D.I.D a Mess blog likes to call it "The Gland" because it makes him sound like a super villain. Anyway, the point is: even though I am well over the Tosilitis, The Gland still continues to wreak havoc on my life.
I am not supposed to drink alcohol, take part in any strenuous activity, stay up too late, wake up too early, do any exercise, work too much, get too stressed out, go out too much, or have a life of any kind. I never feel sick... but I always feel tired which is a pain in the butt, and I guess the wholre tired thing is why I am not supposed to be moving from this chair.... ever. So in light of my new situation of needing to 'take it easy' (I am getting sick of that phrase), I have started to create a 'glandular timetable' for myself. This timetable is a complete screw up of my life; it has better eating (content, times, portions, and less snacking because I can't exercise that shit off), early bed times, lots of reading and TV series on DVD that I have to watch because it is not stressful, and I also took the opportunity to put some time for driving in there as I have done a pathetic FIVE HOURS of driving on my L's and I really do not want my little sister to catch up to me two weeks after getting her Learner's permit.
The question is: is all of this habit changing worth it to avoid the possibility of Chronic Fatigue? Those who have had Chronic Fatigue would probably say yes, but even when I WAS doing exercise it was nothing even close to real exercise; walking the 30 minute round trip to Safeway and back to buy chocolate doesn't really count so I question the likelyhood of me ending up with Chronic Fatigue. The alcohol thing is also a bother because I am a uni student afterall; how am I supposed to resist the endless temptation of the sweet, sweet booze? There is an endless supply of alcohol at many of the BBQs on the Menzies Lawn and the Boob Lawn where you can buy tickets to events with free alcohol and then go to the bar where your friends are with discounted alcohol if you have your MSA card. I admit that I RARELY drink at uni but now that I can't I want to so bad; plus I just bought my Science Ball ticket and that $85 is definitely not going to be wasted on an alcohol free night.
So basically this post is pretty useless because it is just me complaining. I apologise. If I wasn't so desperate to post something this would not have even made it onto the page but I haven't posted on any of my blogs in AGES so I thought I should. Forgive this post. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
I am not supposed to drink alcohol, take part in any strenuous activity, stay up too late, wake up too early, do any exercise, work too much, get too stressed out, go out too much, or have a life of any kind. I never feel sick... but I always feel tired which is a pain in the butt, and I guess the wholre tired thing is why I am not supposed to be moving from this chair.... ever. So in light of my new situation of needing to 'take it easy' (I am getting sick of that phrase), I have started to create a 'glandular timetable' for myself. This timetable is a complete screw up of my life; it has better eating (content, times, portions, and less snacking because I can't exercise that shit off), early bed times, lots of reading and TV series on DVD that I have to watch because it is not stressful, and I also took the opportunity to put some time for driving in there as I have done a pathetic FIVE HOURS of driving on my L's and I really do not want my little sister to catch up to me two weeks after getting her Learner's permit.
The question is: is all of this habit changing worth it to avoid the possibility of Chronic Fatigue? Those who have had Chronic Fatigue would probably say yes, but even when I WAS doing exercise it was nothing even close to real exercise; walking the 30 minute round trip to Safeway and back to buy chocolate doesn't really count so I question the likelyhood of me ending up with Chronic Fatigue. The alcohol thing is also a bother because I am a uni student afterall; how am I supposed to resist the endless temptation of the sweet, sweet booze? There is an endless supply of alcohol at many of the BBQs on the Menzies Lawn and the Boob Lawn where you can buy tickets to events with free alcohol and then go to the bar where your friends are with discounted alcohol if you have your MSA card. I admit that I RARELY drink at uni but now that I can't I want to so bad; plus I just bought my Science Ball ticket and that $85 is definitely not going to be wasted on an alcohol free night.
So basically this post is pretty useless because it is just me complaining. I apologise. If I wasn't so desperate to post something this would not have even made it onto the page but I haven't posted on any of my blogs in AGES so I thought I should. Forgive this post. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The Art of Whore
Two posts in one day!? Is this madness? No dear friends, this is war. The art of said noun in fact. Quite simply, Shady has received some bad news and is feeling a bit down. However, there is a simple remedy concocted from shame and the exploitation of it!
Schadenfreude, my dear friends, Shadenfruede.
Quite simply, today I will be taking the status of a facebook broadcaster and comparing it to Sun-Tzu's The Art of War to properly pinpoint exactly where it went wrong. While this sounds like a particularly tricky, even finicky procedure, do not despair! Because the status in question allows me to broadside it with the equivalent of about 30 tactical warheads of pure, unadulterated ridicule. If you are one to enjoy the killing of a fly with 30 fly swats composed solely of lightning and rage, this should be something you'd want to read.
Here Goes. All names are kept secret. All similarities and likenesses to any other status you may have read are perfunctorily apt and analogous.
Our mysterious facebook "whore", as they have been known since the rise and fall of Myspace in the mid-high school era, posted this status:
Now, this is somewhat related to my previous article. I (or my "internet-self" as I concluded last blog, herein referred to as my iSelf thanks to an infuriating naming revolution of my generation) have no sympathy for this broadcaster. I barely know thee, I barely want to know thee. Don't clog up my news feed with this. But since you asked for it, mysterious stranger, here goes.
I believe the primary purpose of this poorly punctuated post is to garner some attention in what could be a possibly bad time for you. However, over the course of 6 hours since you made this post, there were 0 comments and 0 likes. This makes the post completely unsuccessful in concurrence with it's initial aim. This is further compounded by the posts around yours which have gained far more facebook success then your feeble post. This status' are:
a) This car ride just doesn't end : |
AND a wall post simply stating;
b) dislikes the cold
with each getting 3 "likes" and 1 "like" and 7 comments respectably.
How did your status go so wrong?
Well Sun Tzu is here to help. His Art of War is instantly recognisable and relational. For instance, Sun Tzu states that:
He who knows
Neither self
Nor enemy
Will fail
In every battle.
If you do not know where your happy place has gone, how can you know thyself? How can you succeed? If you post annoying posts to try and gain pity and compliments from your friends, then how could you possibly know your enemy? How can you succeed? Shortly, you don't.
You fail.
This is, of course, assuming your friends are your enemies in this scenario. You must metaphorically defeat them to have them comment on your status! However, I am sure if one were to keep up this incessant abuse of the news feed, it may not be metaphorical much longer.
Sun Tzu goes on to say:
Of old,
The Skilful Warrior
First ensured
His own
Invulnerability;
Then he waited for
The enemy's
Vulnerability.
You see! You have admitted your vulnerability! No wonder you fail, you've been going about things the opposite way! What a goose you are. You've become like a sponge finger, not a mighty warrior! You are meant for cake, not the emotional battlefield!
But it is not all your fault. People must have been adept at noticing the subtle cues to your unhappiness. You went fishing for compliments, but your iFriends must know
Do not swallow
A bait.
For we all know the trap of the compliment fisherman. They will pull you out of the water, scale you of all your compassion and slowly gut you with a knife of such unbridled despair that you feel free to let your inner beliefs (here represented by a carps entrails) go just to make them leave you alone with their self esteem raised just enough that they wish to fish more, while you are left filleted and lonely with your eye-balls a bit protruded and your bowels moved for the experience.
The final comparison for this puzzling fisherman is to strike the final blow, to put the nail in the coffin of your victory and to prove that your way of waging emotional war on those who have no choice but to listen to you is misconceived and wrong.
In War,
Victory should be
Swift.
Six and a half hours after you waged your battle, naming the field of war and warfare components, you have not won. Any victory from here is protracted.
No Nation has ever benefited
From a protracted War.
Thanks Folks,
This has been Shady
**as a side note, after I published this the status was deleted by the person who made it after no-one continued to comment on it. This person does not read this blog. Nor any blogs I do not believe.
***ALSO
goats:
g
Schadenfreude, my dear friends, Shadenfruede.
Quite simply, today I will be taking the status of a facebook broadcaster and comparing it to Sun-Tzu's The Art of War to properly pinpoint exactly where it went wrong. While this sounds like a particularly tricky, even finicky procedure, do not despair! Because the status in question allows me to broadside it with the equivalent of about 30 tactical warheads of pure, unadulterated ridicule. If you are one to enjoy the killing of a fly with 30 fly swats composed solely of lightning and rage, this should be something you'd want to read.
Here Goes. All names are kept secret. All similarities and likenesses to any other status you may have read are perfunctorily apt and analogous.
Our mysterious facebook "whore", as they have been known since the rise and fall of Myspace in the mid-high school era, posted this status:
"where can i get a new happy place? ive seem to have lost mine..."
Now, this is somewhat related to my previous article. I (or my "internet-self" as I concluded last blog, herein referred to as my iSelf thanks to an infuriating naming revolution of my generation) have no sympathy for this broadcaster. I barely know thee, I barely want to know thee. Don't clog up my news feed with this. But since you asked for it, mysterious stranger, here goes.
I believe the primary purpose of this poorly punctuated post is to garner some attention in what could be a possibly bad time for you. However, over the course of 6 hours since you made this post, there were 0 comments and 0 likes. This makes the post completely unsuccessful in concurrence with it's initial aim. This is further compounded by the posts around yours which have gained far more facebook success then your feeble post. This status' are:
a) This car ride just doesn't end : |
AND a wall post simply stating;
b) dislikes the cold
with each getting 3 "likes" and 1 "like" and 7 comments respectably.
How did your status go so wrong?
Well Sun Tzu is here to help. His Art of War is instantly recognisable and relational. For instance, Sun Tzu states that:
He who knows
Neither self
Nor enemy
Will fail
In every battle.
If you do not know where your happy place has gone, how can you know thyself? How can you succeed? If you post annoying posts to try and gain pity and compliments from your friends, then how could you possibly know your enemy? How can you succeed? Shortly, you don't.
You fail.
This is, of course, assuming your friends are your enemies in this scenario. You must metaphorically defeat them to have them comment on your status! However, I am sure if one were to keep up this incessant abuse of the news feed, it may not be metaphorical much longer.
Sun Tzu goes on to say:
Of old,
The Skilful Warrior
First ensured
His own
Invulnerability;
Then he waited for
The enemy's
Vulnerability.
You see! You have admitted your vulnerability! No wonder you fail, you've been going about things the opposite way! What a goose you are. You've become like a sponge finger, not a mighty warrior! You are meant for cake, not the emotional battlefield!
But it is not all your fault. People must have been adept at noticing the subtle cues to your unhappiness. You went fishing for compliments, but your iFriends must know
Do not swallow
A bait.
For we all know the trap of the compliment fisherman. They will pull you out of the water, scale you of all your compassion and slowly gut you with a knife of such unbridled despair that you feel free to let your inner beliefs (here represented by a carps entrails) go just to make them leave you alone with their self esteem raised just enough that they wish to fish more, while you are left filleted and lonely with your eye-balls a bit protruded and your bowels moved for the experience.
The final comparison for this puzzling fisherman is to strike the final blow, to put the nail in the coffin of your victory and to prove that your way of waging emotional war on those who have no choice but to listen to you is misconceived and wrong.
In War,
Victory should be
Swift.
Six and a half hours after you waged your battle, naming the field of war and warfare components, you have not won. Any victory from here is protracted.
No Nation has ever benefited
From a protracted War.
Thanks Folks,
This has been Shady
**as a side note, after I published this the status was deleted by the person who made it after no-one continued to comment on it. This person does not read this blog. Nor any blogs I do not believe.
***ALSO
goats:
g
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The YouTube Menagerie and their Bastard Keepers.
Readers, today Shady finds himself in the dense, sweaty jungle known as YouTube. It is a sad place filled with memorabilia of the past flogged within an inch of its life, videos meant to suck your bandwidth through it's pleasuring of your curiosity of only the most morbid and sadistic happen-stances of the world today and a gargantuan number of videos based purely and simply on the premise "Animals do the darndest things".
It is whilst wading through the marshes of YouTube Poop and trashy replies to Ke$has latest music video I found myself pondering the latter of the above options. Why are animals so entertaining? If it was a member of the human race we'd find ourselves repulsed and possibly infuriated by their similar antics. But once given that it's only some dumb animal, not only does our sympathy leave but so too our empathy. Does this make animals the best blank canvas for comedy ever?
For instance:
This, discovered within a dusty old Mayan temple filled with contorted faces of fury imprinted on to each and every gargoyle one could find, worshipped on a pedestal of aimless rage, is nonetheless hilarious. What is that cat thinking? on his shelves like that? Thinking he is some sort of tiny, feline Billy Ray Cyrus covered in hair, thrusting it's away along it's self made stage?
But people, think about it. If that guy started yelling at someone randomly, how unfunny would that be? is it because we are used to the "lol-ing" at cats we have become completely unsympathetic towards their kind and their plights? Why are we so completely disenchanted with our animal kin?
Because, folks. We are bastards.
The internet has helped information become a true freedom enjoyed by any who can access it, for now at least. I will leave my furore against such red-barrens (thanks to Damacus for this bit of cryptic naming) and inappropriate, rabbit eared speedo wearers until another time. Right now, we must scrutinise how this relentless incoming tide of information has quite possibly washed away all sense of feeling we ever had.
Exhibit A: 4chan
Why anyone has to post a picture of a pregnant horse being raped by bears dressed in waist coats and fez hats is beyond me, but I'm sure those Betards at 4chan have already got 3 threads devoted to it. Trolls are mythical internet creatures which seek to ruin everything you have ever thought. Forever. These Trolls do this by making obscene images mixed with similarly obscene phrases. Perhaps they feel a need to uphold Rule 43. Perhaps 4chan are our saviours of free speech. Perhaps they have connected every PC throughout the world to take over the better part of our 1st world countries and spread the freedom of speech.
Or maybe they are all bored 12 year olds with too much time on their hands, simply the modern day parallel of a kid with a magnifying glass over an ant hill. Either way, they continue to desensitise us further with their photo shopping abilities and general trolling attitudes. They hammer on the heavy ornate doors of ur minds fortress of righteosness, slowly eroding at our walls like acid rain, perpetuating the never-ending flow of racist cats, dogs, bears, courage wolves and poke-parents that slowly invade and inhabit every space of our internet consciousness.
4chan. It's the kryptonite to our web-superman.
Exhibit B: Facebook
This follows on from the very cool Liutenant Renji and her post on the problems with Facebook. Eventually, it is inevitable the shouting box that is Facebook will eventually bottle-neck enough irrelevant problems from irrelevant people into your mind that you cease to notice them. You stop posting on that birthday girls wall, you stop replying to the suicide messages, the messages of anguish, the break-up sadness that envelopes so many adolescent girls who can no longer pester the boy who dumped her and so equally shares it among her internet "friends".
You stop interacting with people who have problems that they broadcast.
If this was real life, you'd be looking a bit jaded by now wouldn't you?
Exhibit C:onclusion?
Perhaps this is the whole point though. Perhaps your internet self is not your real self. Do we have harder persona's that preclude our far more fragile self from the dangers of the internet? Is it a detachment method in which we act like the proverbial Batman to our inner Robin? The Mario to our Peach? The Condoleeezza Rice to our flimsy George W. Bush? Of course, without it we would become embittered and completely lacking in our trust of fellow beings around us. How can we trust those who don't think for themselves, but participate in meaningless, anonymous and ultimately stupid memes intended to insult and breed fear, misapprehension and hate?
Men In Black put it perfectly:
A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it.
To save our Person, we must protect it from People.
Another slice of unimportant and ultimately aimless babble from me folks,
This has been Shady.
Also, I don't understand the obsession with cats.
Goats are much better.
It is whilst wading through the marshes of YouTube Poop and trashy replies to Ke$has latest music video I found myself pondering the latter of the above options. Why are animals so entertaining? If it was a member of the human race we'd find ourselves repulsed and possibly infuriated by their similar antics. But once given that it's only some dumb animal, not only does our sympathy leave but so too our empathy. Does this make animals the best blank canvas for comedy ever?
For instance:
This, discovered within a dusty old Mayan temple filled with contorted faces of fury imprinted on to each and every gargoyle one could find, worshipped on a pedestal of aimless rage, is nonetheless hilarious. What is that cat thinking? on his shelves like that? Thinking he is some sort of tiny, feline Billy Ray Cyrus covered in hair, thrusting it's away along it's self made stage?
But people, think about it. If that guy started yelling at someone randomly, how unfunny would that be? is it because we are used to the "lol-ing" at cats we have become completely unsympathetic towards their kind and their plights? Why are we so completely disenchanted with our animal kin?
Because, folks. We are bastards.
The internet has helped information become a true freedom enjoyed by any who can access it, for now at least. I will leave my furore against such red-barrens (thanks to Damacus for this bit of cryptic naming) and inappropriate, rabbit eared speedo wearers until another time. Right now, we must scrutinise how this relentless incoming tide of information has quite possibly washed away all sense of feeling we ever had.
Exhibit A: 4chan
Why anyone has to post a picture of a pregnant horse being raped by bears dressed in waist coats and fez hats is beyond me, but I'm sure those Betards at 4chan have already got 3 threads devoted to it. Trolls are mythical internet creatures which seek to ruin everything you have ever thought. Forever. These Trolls do this by making obscene images mixed with similarly obscene phrases. Perhaps they feel a need to uphold Rule 43. Perhaps 4chan are our saviours of free speech. Perhaps they have connected every PC throughout the world to take over the better part of our 1st world countries and spread the freedom of speech.
Or maybe they are all bored 12 year olds with too much time on their hands, simply the modern day parallel of a kid with a magnifying glass over an ant hill. Either way, they continue to desensitise us further with their photo shopping abilities and general trolling attitudes. They hammer on the heavy ornate doors of ur minds fortress of righteosness, slowly eroding at our walls like acid rain, perpetuating the never-ending flow of racist cats, dogs, bears, courage wolves and poke-parents that slowly invade and inhabit every space of our internet consciousness.
4chan. It's the kryptonite to our web-superman.
Exhibit B: Facebook
This follows on from the very cool Liutenant Renji and her post on the problems with Facebook. Eventually, it is inevitable the shouting box that is Facebook will eventually bottle-neck enough irrelevant problems from irrelevant people into your mind that you cease to notice them. You stop posting on that birthday girls wall, you stop replying to the suicide messages, the messages of anguish, the break-up sadness that envelopes so many adolescent girls who can no longer pester the boy who dumped her and so equally shares it among her internet "friends".
You stop interacting with people who have problems that they broadcast.
If this was real life, you'd be looking a bit jaded by now wouldn't you?
Exhibit C:onclusion?
Perhaps this is the whole point though. Perhaps your internet self is not your real self. Do we have harder persona's that preclude our far more fragile self from the dangers of the internet? Is it a detachment method in which we act like the proverbial Batman to our inner Robin? The Mario to our Peach? The Condoleeezza Rice to our flimsy George W. Bush? Of course, without it we would become embittered and completely lacking in our trust of fellow beings around us. How can we trust those who don't think for themselves, but participate in meaningless, anonymous and ultimately stupid memes intended to insult and breed fear, misapprehension and hate?
Men In Black put it perfectly:
A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it.
To save our Person, we must protect it from People.
Another slice of unimportant and ultimately aimless babble from me folks,
This has been Shady.
Also, I don't understand the obsession with cats.
Goats are much better.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
A tear is made from 1% water and 99% feelings.
Actually Mr Facebook Group, I think you'll find that in the chemical composition of a tear, there is no trace of 'feelings'; in fact this molecule has not yet been discovered and I assume you have mispronounced the name of some other molecule that is produced in the tear ducts of a human. It must not be very viscous if it makes up 99% of a tear.
Hello all, and welcome to my "let's make up for the sub-par standard of the last post" post. Hopefully I do not embarrass myself by presenting a post that still lacks anything interesting; I fear that it may be the case because now I am thinking about it. On that topic, there was a good 45 minutes between the last sentence and this one because I was thinking of something else interesting to say. With the opening paragraph and title of this post, the content could consist of a number of topics so I am deciding which one would be the least boring to read and the least boring to write about. As I think about which one would be more interesting, I realise that I have already lost interesting in writing the blog and so I must slap myself and move on with this post about feelings; Facebook feelings.
Let me share with you a story; a story of great heartbreak and of the collapse of the world's greatest love, the devastating downfall of the dynamic duo, the utter tragedy of the expiration of the most perfect, the most amazing, the most beautiful relationship in the history of the universe. That's how it was presented to me via Facebook anyway. These two young lovers were apparently born to be together and managed to have a long and joyous relationship, until they hit a speedbump; a speedbump of DOOM! Their relationship crumbled, and so did the young girl's Facebook dignity. Let's be honest here people; everybody thinks that their love is the greatest love in the world and that nobody understands how special it is, but I have some terrible news for you all. It isn't special, and you are not different; but my views on love are better saved for another time because I am a little bit ill and far too tired to rant about how all it does is cause pain until that short time in which you see hope, only to have it crushed once again. ANYWAY, so the young girl is the one that I have on my friend list, let's call her Rose for now, not that Rose reads my blog, but I feel better if I protect her identity. For the weeks leading up to, and the month or so after the break-up, the only things that were on my news feed were groups, fan pages, and status updates by Rose, all relating to the traumatic time in her life. To be fair, she obviously needed an outlet for her immense sorrow, but does this outlet have to be somewhere that is seen by everyone? If I was one of her close friends I would be more than happy to listen to her complain about her relationship and let her cry on my shoulder, but I am not one of her close friends. I spent one week with her on a camp and then barely kept contact with her aside from the 40 million statuses per day that I had to read about how sad her life is. I'm sorry but maybe posting two or three statuses over the week about being upset or having a bad day is tolerable, I'm sure I did it when my last relationship ended, but I don't need an update on your feelings every single minute; they cannot have changed that much.
To move away from the specific example of Rose, there are just a few names of Facebook groups that I have seen that I feel the need to share with you. The first is, of course, the title of this post. "A tear is mafe from 1% water and 99% feelings". A few more of these include: "having those moments where you miss everything that used to be", "(i) shou(l)d be (ove)r (you)", "I just wish you felt the same", "sometimes you get to the point where you just cant cry anymore", and "if I could go back and fix things I would". These groups, when joined in moderation, can be your way of trying to make your ex see how much they meant to you and to hold onto that tiny bit of hope in some form of reconciliation, but joining every single one of them just makes you look sad. It is the same issue as posting a status update with depressing song lyrics or a quote about how your life is over without your true love.
No matter how bad your break-up is, I garuntee that someone has it worse than you. No matter how perfect you thought your relationship was, someone else's was better. Thinking that you were meant to be, doesn't make you meant to be. This doesn't mean that you are not allowed to be upset, but it isn't necessary to let us all know that you are on the verge of a homocidal rampage because if you can't be loved, nobody can. My last boyfriend cheated on me on three separate occasions with three different girls, and is now regularly fucking one of them, and also fucking someone else. He cheated on me three times, I knew about the last one... the commerce camp whore as I like to call her, and he didn't know that I knew, I found out about the other two afterwards. Then I decided that it wasn't worth ruining our relationship over because I loved him so much so I didn't mention it, but I skipped two uni labs to go see him since I had not seen him in a week, and he dumped me while I was sitting on his couch and then I walked home. HE cheated on ME three times and then HE dumped ME. Yes I loved my boyfriend more than I have ever loved anything but that doesn't mean I loved him more than someone else loves their boyfriend, and yes I have never felt as depressed as I did when I got my arse dumped by the bastard, but that doesn't mean that other people in my situation did not feel just as terrible. When all of this happened, I remember posting one status about having a terrible day, and then that was it. No long statuses about how I wish I was dead, no updates every 10 minutes about how I felt like my life was meaningless, no song lyrics that perfectly outlined my awful moods. That doesn't mean that I didn't feel all those things, it just means that I didn't want to bore Facebook with my love life woes. A good friend of mine dated a lovely boy for three and a half years and they broke up 2 days before my last boyfriend and I did. A relationship lasting that long obviously involves SOME feelings, duh. Obviously that break-up would have been awful and terribly sad, but both of them managed to keep their sadness out of Facebook-land and in friend-land. I was happy to listen to what she had to say about the situation because she didn't plaster it all over the internet asking for sympathy. These are examples of what you SHOULD do with Facebook, although I am awware that I just posted it all over Blogspot, but for the purpose of an example; see the big idea people!
Ok, so enough about tolerating angry and depressing status udates. I have to say that there is something that I hate more that these life-hating statuses and that is the 'I'm so in love with my boyfriend slash girlfriend' statuses. This will be a brief section as I have been writing for too long already and even I want to kill myself reading this. Normally this gross lovey dovey crap is reserved for 13 year olds who have been dating for 2 weeks and think that they know what love is, but I was shocked to find out that it can extend to someone my age. This is an old example, but last year (year 12) he was dating someone 4 year younger than him (year 8) which I think is absolutely rediculous, I mean, does it even classify as a vagina at that age? I'm sure they were having lots of gross, illegal sex. Anyway, the point is, an 18 year old guy posting about how he can't live without his 'gorgeous baby girl' because he is 'so in love' with her after 2 weeks and one and a half clumsy sexual encounters, is just sad and I really do not want to know about it. I would rather see my news feed clogged with unfunny 'lol jks' groups than have it filled with these status updates.
So that is my rant for the day, hopefully it was more enjoyable than my last post that was just for something to do. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Hello all, and welcome to my "let's make up for the sub-par standard of the last post" post. Hopefully I do not embarrass myself by presenting a post that still lacks anything interesting; I fear that it may be the case because now I am thinking about it. On that topic, there was a good 45 minutes between the last sentence and this one because I was thinking of something else interesting to say. With the opening paragraph and title of this post, the content could consist of a number of topics so I am deciding which one would be the least boring to read and the least boring to write about. As I think about which one would be more interesting, I realise that I have already lost interesting in writing the blog and so I must slap myself and move on with this post about feelings; Facebook feelings.
Let me share with you a story; a story of great heartbreak and of the collapse of the world's greatest love, the devastating downfall of the dynamic duo, the utter tragedy of the expiration of the most perfect, the most amazing, the most beautiful relationship in the history of the universe. That's how it was presented to me via Facebook anyway. These two young lovers were apparently born to be together and managed to have a long and joyous relationship, until they hit a speedbump; a speedbump of DOOM! Their relationship crumbled, and so did the young girl's Facebook dignity. Let's be honest here people; everybody thinks that their love is the greatest love in the world and that nobody understands how special it is, but I have some terrible news for you all. It isn't special, and you are not different; but my views on love are better saved for another time because I am a little bit ill and far too tired to rant about how all it does is cause pain until that short time in which you see hope, only to have it crushed once again. ANYWAY, so the young girl is the one that I have on my friend list, let's call her Rose for now, not that Rose reads my blog, but I feel better if I protect her identity. For the weeks leading up to, and the month or so after the break-up, the only things that were on my news feed were groups, fan pages, and status updates by Rose, all relating to the traumatic time in her life. To be fair, she obviously needed an outlet for her immense sorrow, but does this outlet have to be somewhere that is seen by everyone? If I was one of her close friends I would be more than happy to listen to her complain about her relationship and let her cry on my shoulder, but I am not one of her close friends. I spent one week with her on a camp and then barely kept contact with her aside from the 40 million statuses per day that I had to read about how sad her life is. I'm sorry but maybe posting two or three statuses over the week about being upset or having a bad day is tolerable, I'm sure I did it when my last relationship ended, but I don't need an update on your feelings every single minute; they cannot have changed that much.
To move away from the specific example of Rose, there are just a few names of Facebook groups that I have seen that I feel the need to share with you. The first is, of course, the title of this post. "A tear is mafe from 1% water and 99% feelings". A few more of these include: "having those moments where you miss everything that used to be", "(i) shou(l)d be (ove)r (you)", "I just wish you felt the same", "sometimes you get to the point where you just cant cry anymore", and "if I could go back and fix things I would". These groups, when joined in moderation, can be your way of trying to make your ex see how much they meant to you and to hold onto that tiny bit of hope in some form of reconciliation, but joining every single one of them just makes you look sad. It is the same issue as posting a status update with depressing song lyrics or a quote about how your life is over without your true love.
No matter how bad your break-up is, I garuntee that someone has it worse than you. No matter how perfect you thought your relationship was, someone else's was better. Thinking that you were meant to be, doesn't make you meant to be. This doesn't mean that you are not allowed to be upset, but it isn't necessary to let us all know that you are on the verge of a homocidal rampage because if you can't be loved, nobody can. My last boyfriend cheated on me on three separate occasions with three different girls, and is now regularly fucking one of them, and also fucking someone else. He cheated on me three times, I knew about the last one... the commerce camp whore as I like to call her, and he didn't know that I knew, I found out about the other two afterwards. Then I decided that it wasn't worth ruining our relationship over because I loved him so much so I didn't mention it, but I skipped two uni labs to go see him since I had not seen him in a week, and he dumped me while I was sitting on his couch and then I walked home. HE cheated on ME three times and then HE dumped ME. Yes I loved my boyfriend more than I have ever loved anything but that doesn't mean I loved him more than someone else loves their boyfriend, and yes I have never felt as depressed as I did when I got my arse dumped by the bastard, but that doesn't mean that other people in my situation did not feel just as terrible. When all of this happened, I remember posting one status about having a terrible day, and then that was it. No long statuses about how I wish I was dead, no updates every 10 minutes about how I felt like my life was meaningless, no song lyrics that perfectly outlined my awful moods. That doesn't mean that I didn't feel all those things, it just means that I didn't want to bore Facebook with my love life woes. A good friend of mine dated a lovely boy for three and a half years and they broke up 2 days before my last boyfriend and I did. A relationship lasting that long obviously involves SOME feelings, duh. Obviously that break-up would have been awful and terribly sad, but both of them managed to keep their sadness out of Facebook-land and in friend-land. I was happy to listen to what she had to say about the situation because she didn't plaster it all over the internet asking for sympathy. These are examples of what you SHOULD do with Facebook, although I am awware that I just posted it all over Blogspot, but for the purpose of an example; see the big idea people!
Ok, so enough about tolerating angry and depressing status udates. I have to say that there is something that I hate more that these life-hating statuses and that is the 'I'm so in love with my boyfriend slash girlfriend' statuses. This will be a brief section as I have been writing for too long already and even I want to kill myself reading this. Normally this gross lovey dovey crap is reserved for 13 year olds who have been dating for 2 weeks and think that they know what love is, but I was shocked to find out that it can extend to someone my age. This is an old example, but last year (year 12) he was dating someone 4 year younger than him (year 8) which I think is absolutely rediculous, I mean, does it even classify as a vagina at that age? I'm sure they were having lots of gross, illegal sex. Anyway, the point is, an 18 year old guy posting about how he can't live without his 'gorgeous baby girl' because he is 'so in love' with her after 2 weeks and one and a half clumsy sexual encounters, is just sad and I really do not want to know about it. I would rather see my news feed clogged with unfunny 'lol jks' groups than have it filled with these status updates.
So that is my rant for the day, hopefully it was more enjoyable than my last post that was just for something to do. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Something to do.
Holy long time since there was a post! I would just like to apologise for our lack of effort that we have put into this blog in the last month; and by 'our' I mean 'mine' since Shady was the last person to post and he rarely posts anyway, so this is an improvement for him. Good work Shady.
This will be a slightly average post as I am only writing it so that I have something to do and so that the blog doesn't look like it has been abandoned like an old mattress on the curb of the internet.
Right now I am sitting at home watching The Bachelorette because I am waiting to be taken to my mother's house so that I can retrieve Ratchet and Clank and play it for the rest of the day. My amazing sister somehow managed to LOSE our PS2 memory cards and so I must restart the entire game. This will be the first day these holidays that I have been able to do something like that and I am looking forward to it so much that I am not really concentrating on this post so I apologise. My mind is elsewhere.
"My mind is elsewhere". This seems to be a common occurance in my life at the moment. No matter how much I enjoy something, I can never focus my mind on it entirely, and I can never take in everything that I should. I spent last weekend in Rosebud with 4 of my closest girlfriends, and I had an amazing time, but everytime we did something, I couldn't help but imagine something similar that I have always wanted to do, or remember something similar that I have already done, or even think of something completely different that is almost unrelated. Usually this does not cause any issues or problems besides the occasional embarrassing moment in which I am asked a question that I can't respond to due to lack of attention, but sometimes it can be a bit more of an issue. So far I have not had any dangers arise from this, but just yesterday I was trying to make mashed potatoes, one of the most simple foods in the universe to make, and as I thought about how I was jealous of my friend Sam because HE was eating artichokes, I added a hugely excessive amount of milk. The potatoes tasted awful and I suffered due to my lack of attention. This may not seem like an extreme example but I was REALLY looking forward to mashed potatoes because it is one of the only things that I can cook!
Apologies for the short post but I have other things to do now including eating and finally playing R&C! There are a million examples of annoyng things that result from my lack of mental commitment to what I am doing at the time, but I won't go through them all right now, or any more at all for that matter because my mashed potatoes that I made today are nearly ready... I will have to take extra care when adding the milk now because I'm determined to enjoy them! Thanks for reading.
-Renji
This will be a slightly average post as I am only writing it so that I have something to do and so that the blog doesn't look like it has been abandoned like an old mattress on the curb of the internet.
Right now I am sitting at home watching The Bachelorette because I am waiting to be taken to my mother's house so that I can retrieve Ratchet and Clank and play it for the rest of the day. My amazing sister somehow managed to LOSE our PS2 memory cards and so I must restart the entire game. This will be the first day these holidays that I have been able to do something like that and I am looking forward to it so much that I am not really concentrating on this post so I apologise. My mind is elsewhere.
"My mind is elsewhere". This seems to be a common occurance in my life at the moment. No matter how much I enjoy something, I can never focus my mind on it entirely, and I can never take in everything that I should. I spent last weekend in Rosebud with 4 of my closest girlfriends, and I had an amazing time, but everytime we did something, I couldn't help but imagine something similar that I have always wanted to do, or remember something similar that I have already done, or even think of something completely different that is almost unrelated. Usually this does not cause any issues or problems besides the occasional embarrassing moment in which I am asked a question that I can't respond to due to lack of attention, but sometimes it can be a bit more of an issue. So far I have not had any dangers arise from this, but just yesterday I was trying to make mashed potatoes, one of the most simple foods in the universe to make, and as I thought about how I was jealous of my friend Sam because HE was eating artichokes, I added a hugely excessive amount of milk. The potatoes tasted awful and I suffered due to my lack of attention. This may not seem like an extreme example but I was REALLY looking forward to mashed potatoes because it is one of the only things that I can cook!
Apologies for the short post but I have other things to do now including eating and finally playing R&C! There are a million examples of annoyng things that result from my lack of mental commitment to what I am doing at the time, but I won't go through them all right now, or any more at all for that matter because my mashed potatoes that I made today are nearly ready... I will have to take extra care when adding the milk now because I'm determined to enjoy them! Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Thursday, June 17, 2010
An Arrogant What?
Tosser. An Arrogant Tosser. Capitalised as a title because, apparently folks, your old/somewhat worn/very new friend Shady is one. Some people, not to name names, have been sharing around the hate recently, and this new title bubbled to the surface of their evil virulent ooze. AND it fascinates me. In fact, I'm not even completely sure the title is unfair in some ways, but nevertheless, it was pause for thought!
SO, it was with this new found titbit of information I stalked back into the shadycave and, like the hermit returning to civilisation must trim his glorious beard and shave his fungus infested toenails, I decided to scrutinise what it was that made me such as my title. Don't worry, I won't bore you with the personal growth tales so prevalent to most blogs, instead fast forward through to the parts that are kind of applicable and interesting to others.
1. Vocabulary.
This seemed the least problematic of Shadys' idiosyncrasies (the most being my apparent indescribable need to speak in the third person occasionally) so I found it an admirable place to start. I use a larger vocabulary than is sometimes needed, not because I want to show how much better I am than you, really, just because it actually describes how I'm feeling better to use phrases such as "indefatigably brilliant" rather than just "good". However, it has more than once gotten me into trouble and made me look like an asshole.
For instance, my friend Unnameable (preferably pronounced Unna-may-bel, as opposed to the actual word which some what detracts from the personable person she is) is a very smart person. She does things I could not be bothered with, and does them well, such as chemistry, which I respect like I respect people who could sit through the whole six seasons of Lost. Personally I'd probably have gauged one of my eyeballs out with a pencil just for entertainment instead of take part in either of the two aforementioned activities, but each to their own. However, she has the vocabulary closer to that of a well educated cucumber than a high-achieving academic. This has been a sticking point in the relationship as it basically means every time I use a word more than 7 letters long I will more often than not need to explain it.
Now, the answer to furthering the relationship would be something close to; stop being such an insufferable mother-fucker and dim it down a shade. However, the course of action I take is more like; try and teach Unnameable how to use the English language. This isn't the job of a friend, more your teacher or tutor or whatever your local learning agent cares to call themselves. BUT because I know something, I feel a need to pass it on.
Thereby looking like an arrogant tosser.
However, I feel this is something more than just I suffer from, as many people have a better vocabulary than old Shady here, and probably get more annoyed at not being understood than myself also. Therefore I kept exploring the wilderness of my person and trudged deeper into the heart of darkness.
2. Clothing
Apart from every other person assuming I'm homosexual from the way I dress causing crippling self doubt in this area, I always thought I dressed reasonably. Apart from that time I dressed up as Adam Ant and decided to become a highwaymen. That was understandably a mistake. I like shirts, shoes and jackets. Shopping is something I enjoy more than most and I probably spend more here than is usually needed in search of something unique and cool.
But was it this nigh obsession with the clothing that was causing my image to be diminished in such a way it would possibly tear Li-Lo from her chicken and cocaine diet? It seemed possible, I was told I overdress. I also bought such ridiculous items of clothing as: Japanese Biker Goggles (Not suitable for riding a bike with), Neckerchiefs (Never to underestimate the power of the Bandito), Cravats, Oversized head-phones (not actually used for listening to music), Bow-Ties and Suspenders. Maybe it was this, may I say, boisterous choices of clothing that caused the issue?
But then I realised that if Smith and Preston of the Matt varieties could pull off these combinations in their respective time-slots, surely they are merely quirky rather than jarringly strange and alienating?
Onward we plod through the cratered desert of my psyche.
3.My Blogging?
This was quickly dismissed as my blogging exists in surges similar in timing to the releases of Tron films and my 3 or so readers aren't those who would think too badly of my tosser-y arrogance.
4.My Arrogant Tossering.
It was now I entered the palace at the centre of my mind, the salty, saucy inside of my inner Chicken Kiev, and stumbled upon the answer. Right next to my giant golden statues of Tim Burton, Joss Whedon and Paul Dempsey, standing like erect, flat bottomed sponge fingers. Surrounded by frollicking ferrets reminiscent of fennel sausages and other related breakfast items. So large it nearly blocked out the sun, beating down like some massive molten Malteser in the sky, it hit me.
I really was quite hungry.
But then I stopped thinking about my stomach for a second and realised I too, like my idols, was a statue held upon a pedestal. I realised then. this is who Shady is. Get over it already.
Now if you'll leave me alone I'll return to my Final Fantasy and not post for another 2-3 weeks.
Thanks Folks, This has been Shady.
SO, it was with this new found titbit of information I stalked back into the shadycave and, like the hermit returning to civilisation must trim his glorious beard and shave his fungus infested toenails, I decided to scrutinise what it was that made me such as my title. Don't worry, I won't bore you with the personal growth tales so prevalent to most blogs, instead fast forward through to the parts that are kind of applicable and interesting to others.
1. Vocabulary.
This seemed the least problematic of Shadys' idiosyncrasies (the most being my apparent indescribable need to speak in the third person occasionally) so I found it an admirable place to start. I use a larger vocabulary than is sometimes needed, not because I want to show how much better I am than you, really, just because it actually describes how I'm feeling better to use phrases such as "indefatigably brilliant" rather than just "good". However, it has more than once gotten me into trouble and made me look like an asshole.
For instance, my friend Unnameable (preferably pronounced Unna-may-bel, as opposed to the actual word which some what detracts from the personable person she is) is a very smart person. She does things I could not be bothered with, and does them well, such as chemistry, which I respect like I respect people who could sit through the whole six seasons of Lost. Personally I'd probably have gauged one of my eyeballs out with a pencil just for entertainment instead of take part in either of the two aforementioned activities, but each to their own. However, she has the vocabulary closer to that of a well educated cucumber than a high-achieving academic. This has been a sticking point in the relationship as it basically means every time I use a word more than 7 letters long I will more often than not need to explain it.
Now, the answer to furthering the relationship would be something close to; stop being such an insufferable mother-fucker and dim it down a shade. However, the course of action I take is more like; try and teach Unnameable how to use the English language. This isn't the job of a friend, more your teacher or tutor or whatever your local learning agent cares to call themselves. BUT because I know something, I feel a need to pass it on.
Thereby looking like an arrogant tosser.
However, I feel this is something more than just I suffer from, as many people have a better vocabulary than old Shady here, and probably get more annoyed at not being understood than myself also. Therefore I kept exploring the wilderness of my person and trudged deeper into the heart of darkness.
2. Clothing
Apart from every other person assuming I'm homosexual from the way I dress causing crippling self doubt in this area, I always thought I dressed reasonably. Apart from that time I dressed up as Adam Ant and decided to become a highwaymen. That was understandably a mistake. I like shirts, shoes and jackets. Shopping is something I enjoy more than most and I probably spend more here than is usually needed in search of something unique and cool.
But was it this nigh obsession with the clothing that was causing my image to be diminished in such a way it would possibly tear Li-Lo from her chicken and cocaine diet? It seemed possible, I was told I overdress. I also bought such ridiculous items of clothing as: Japanese Biker Goggles (Not suitable for riding a bike with), Neckerchiefs (Never to underestimate the power of the Bandito), Cravats, Oversized head-phones (not actually used for listening to music), Bow-Ties and Suspenders. Maybe it was this, may I say, boisterous choices of clothing that caused the issue?
But then I realised that if Smith and Preston of the Matt varieties could pull off these combinations in their respective time-slots, surely they are merely quirky rather than jarringly strange and alienating?
Onward we plod through the cratered desert of my psyche.
3.My Blogging?
This was quickly dismissed as my blogging exists in surges similar in timing to the releases of Tron films and my 3 or so readers aren't those who would think too badly of my tosser-y arrogance.
4.My Arrogant Tossering.
It was now I entered the palace at the centre of my mind, the salty, saucy inside of my inner Chicken Kiev, and stumbled upon the answer. Right next to my giant golden statues of Tim Burton, Joss Whedon and Paul Dempsey, standing like erect, flat bottomed sponge fingers. Surrounded by frollicking ferrets reminiscent of fennel sausages and other related breakfast items. So large it nearly blocked out the sun, beating down like some massive molten Malteser in the sky, it hit me.
I really was quite hungry.
But then I stopped thinking about my stomach for a second and realised I too, like my idols, was a statue held upon a pedestal. I realised then. this is who Shady is. Get over it already.
Now if you'll leave me alone I'll return to my Final Fantasy and not post for another 2-3 weeks.
Thanks Folks, This has been Shady.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Apathetic Way To Be
We're only very temporarily gonna break the cycle of the double edged sword of being lazy and being bored.
It is time yet again for another post by Lieutenant Renji, I know that you have all been waiting for it. Anyone who has been following D.I.D. a Mess will see that I have been in a posting mood in the last few days as I have just recently posted on that blog (hint, hint, nudge, nudge go read it when you have finished reading this one). This is largely due to the fact that the time of exams is coming closer and I have convinced myself that by staying home instead of going out these last two nights with my friends I am somehow helping myself out with my exams. The issue with this is that I haven't actually gotten around to doing any studying, and I seem to think that writing a post is somehow more productive than being on facebook; hence the posting.
So as I sit on my couch watching North Melbourne dominating Carlton (which can mean nothing but good things for St Kilda), I realise that I am in one of my familiar states of boredom. I am thinking of the many things that I could do that would get my juices going and entertain me for the next few hours until I go to bed, but with each idea I find a reason not to do it. Perhaps I could...
Watch a DVD
I suppose I could get off the couch, walk all the way to the shelves in which our DVDs are stored, spend 20 minutes deciding which movie to watch, and then realise that watching a movie that I have seen three times already is in no way less boring that watching a game of AFL in which my team is not involved. In fact I often enjoy watching Saints-less games of football, especially when a team that was getting beaten so badly makes a good comeback (which is what is happening right now; Eddie Betts is an absolute star and I wish he played for us). So there is absolutely no point in me getting up in the first place; I couldn't be bothered.
Eat some food
This is the classic first reaction to boredom that so many people have, but it is rarely beneficial. Sure, you get the satisfaction of actually doing something involving movement, and the food often tastes good, but it is never satisfying enough. You always venture to the fridge with a specific taste in mind but when you realise that the chances of finding a perfectly cooked steak just sitting around your kitchen are relatively low, you have to settle for some toast, a slice of cheese, or a sandwich with a combination of ingredients that should never again be tasted by mankind. Another problem is that an evening snack rarely ends up being a healthy one. Don't get me wrong, I am no health freak, but when you mouth watering steak idea goes down the toilet, one often turns to the chocolate covered teddy bears, or the packet of chips that they weren't even looking for in the first place. This is why there is no point in me getting up to go in search of food; I couldn't be bothered.
Watch Bleach
I am quite far behind in Bleach and I really wish that I could catch up, but because I prefer to watch it subbed and not dubbed, I can't do anything else while watching it. I seem to be one of those freaks who, as long as there is even one person to talk to, will not log off facebook and/or msn. I hate to leave a conversation when it is completely possible for me to stay, and so watching Bleach is something that I can do only very late at night when everyone sane has shuffled off to bed. If I watch it now I will be too distracted and will not concentrate on the plot and so there is no point in watching it; I couldn't be bothered.
Surf Youtube
Youtube is an amazing website and I love to watch many of the videos that it holds in its many pages of wonder, but to be honest, unless I have a specific video to look up, I find myself incredibly bored because I do not have the patience to sift through the endless crap that is uploaded onto it. There must be something better to do on the internet, and so there is no point in going onto youtube unless I have a specific video in mind; I couldn't be bothered.
Study
This seems like the obvious thing for me to do. I am bored and I have an exam on Monday and an exam on Tuesday; I should be cramming every little bit of knowledge I possibly can into my tiny little head (and by tiny little head I mean rather large head, Shady you know what I mean). The thing is, I have the attention span of a goldfish with the species proportional ADD, so I know that by the time I get my books out and start to revise, I will already be thinking about the guy I met on Monday night, or how much I love the fact that I live so close to my 'friend' whose room is a shed outside his house, or how my photo of the two pikachu on the stumps who are electrifying the sky absolutely killed all of the photos that Shady and his brother took on Pokemon Snap. So when you think about it, there is absolutely no point in getting up to get my chemistry book; I couldn't be bothered.
I think we can see a theme forming. Basically, I couldn't be bothered doing almost anything, which seems to be my issue. As Relient K so wisely said: it's a double edged sword of being lazy and being bored; not in those exact words but that is the idea. I also think they just wanted to use that line because it rhymed. All I seem to do is complain to myself about the terrible boredom that I am so often plagued with, but there would be an easy solution if I just wasn't so damn lazy all of the time. Anyone with motivation can defeat boredom easily simply by seeing the point in doing something else. This is one of those topics where you say "oh life would be so much better for everyone if people weren't so lazy because nobody would complain about being bored and everyone would be having fun", but we all know that it will never happen.
So as I sit here on facebook in front of the television as I do every night, wishing that I had the motivation so relieve myself from this boredom, I know that this will never change and we can all pretend that we are ok with it as we rummage through our pantries for that chocolate biscuit that will fill the hole for 2 minutes. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
It is time yet again for another post by Lieutenant Renji, I know that you have all been waiting for it. Anyone who has been following D.I.D. a Mess will see that I have been in a posting mood in the last few days as I have just recently posted on that blog (hint, hint, nudge, nudge go read it when you have finished reading this one). This is largely due to the fact that the time of exams is coming closer and I have convinced myself that by staying home instead of going out these last two nights with my friends I am somehow helping myself out with my exams. The issue with this is that I haven't actually gotten around to doing any studying, and I seem to think that writing a post is somehow more productive than being on facebook; hence the posting.
So as I sit on my couch watching North Melbourne dominating Carlton (which can mean nothing but good things for St Kilda), I realise that I am in one of my familiar states of boredom. I am thinking of the many things that I could do that would get my juices going and entertain me for the next few hours until I go to bed, but with each idea I find a reason not to do it. Perhaps I could...
Watch a DVD
I suppose I could get off the couch, walk all the way to the shelves in which our DVDs are stored, spend 20 minutes deciding which movie to watch, and then realise that watching a movie that I have seen three times already is in no way less boring that watching a game of AFL in which my team is not involved. In fact I often enjoy watching Saints-less games of football, especially when a team that was getting beaten so badly makes a good comeback (which is what is happening right now; Eddie Betts is an absolute star and I wish he played for us). So there is absolutely no point in me getting up in the first place; I couldn't be bothered.
Eat some food
This is the classic first reaction to boredom that so many people have, but it is rarely beneficial. Sure, you get the satisfaction of actually doing something involving movement, and the food often tastes good, but it is never satisfying enough. You always venture to the fridge with a specific taste in mind but when you realise that the chances of finding a perfectly cooked steak just sitting around your kitchen are relatively low, you have to settle for some toast, a slice of cheese, or a sandwich with a combination of ingredients that should never again be tasted by mankind. Another problem is that an evening snack rarely ends up being a healthy one. Don't get me wrong, I am no health freak, but when you mouth watering steak idea goes down the toilet, one often turns to the chocolate covered teddy bears, or the packet of chips that they weren't even looking for in the first place. This is why there is no point in me getting up to go in search of food; I couldn't be bothered.
Watch Bleach
I am quite far behind in Bleach and I really wish that I could catch up, but because I prefer to watch it subbed and not dubbed, I can't do anything else while watching it. I seem to be one of those freaks who, as long as there is even one person to talk to, will not log off facebook and/or msn. I hate to leave a conversation when it is completely possible for me to stay, and so watching Bleach is something that I can do only very late at night when everyone sane has shuffled off to bed. If I watch it now I will be too distracted and will not concentrate on the plot and so there is no point in watching it; I couldn't be bothered.
Surf Youtube
Youtube is an amazing website and I love to watch many of the videos that it holds in its many pages of wonder, but to be honest, unless I have a specific video to look up, I find myself incredibly bored because I do not have the patience to sift through the endless crap that is uploaded onto it. There must be something better to do on the internet, and so there is no point in going onto youtube unless I have a specific video in mind; I couldn't be bothered.
Study
This seems like the obvious thing for me to do. I am bored and I have an exam on Monday and an exam on Tuesday; I should be cramming every little bit of knowledge I possibly can into my tiny little head (and by tiny little head I mean rather large head, Shady you know what I mean). The thing is, I have the attention span of a goldfish with the species proportional ADD, so I know that by the time I get my books out and start to revise, I will already be thinking about the guy I met on Monday night, or how much I love the fact that I live so close to my 'friend' whose room is a shed outside his house, or how my photo of the two pikachu on the stumps who are electrifying the sky absolutely killed all of the photos that Shady and his brother took on Pokemon Snap. So when you think about it, there is absolutely no point in getting up to get my chemistry book; I couldn't be bothered.
I think we can see a theme forming. Basically, I couldn't be bothered doing almost anything, which seems to be my issue. As Relient K so wisely said: it's a double edged sword of being lazy and being bored; not in those exact words but that is the idea. I also think they just wanted to use that line because it rhymed. All I seem to do is complain to myself about the terrible boredom that I am so often plagued with, but there would be an easy solution if I just wasn't so damn lazy all of the time. Anyone with motivation can defeat boredom easily simply by seeing the point in doing something else. This is one of those topics where you say "oh life would be so much better for everyone if people weren't so lazy because nobody would complain about being bored and everyone would be having fun", but we all know that it will never happen.
So as I sit here on facebook in front of the television as I do every night, wishing that I had the motivation so relieve myself from this boredom, I know that this will never change and we can all pretend that we are ok with it as we rummage through our pantries for that chocolate biscuit that will fill the hole for 2 minutes. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
I want it now!
I want the world; I want the whole world. I want to lock it all up in my pocket, it's my bar of chocolate. Give it to me now!
Buonasera my fellow anti-social butterflies, and welcome to yet another day of nothing but surrounding yourself in the most recent thoughts of others in the form of a blog post. Tonight as I sit on my bed thinking about how I do not have to travel 45 minutes to uni tomorrow, I realised that I have been absent from both of the blogs that I contribute to for quite some time, and have decided to gather up some of my random thoughts and extract one from my head. Tonight I want to write about want; why and what do we all want?
The general consensus is that we want things so that we can be happy, which sounds reasonable enough to me, but how can we measure this happiness in comparison to how much we want? Some things obviously result in a larger rise in happiness than others; the purchase of new shoes on sale is likely to be of less 'happiness value' than getting a 99.95 ENTER score, although it would be the opposite in my case (OMGZZ I LOVE SHO3Z! [but seriously, I do love shoes]). The measure of happiness from obtaining things that we want can be distracting us fromt he actual happiness.
There are many different things that make different people happy. I would like to go on about fetishes but that is for another blog post; another time (I can tell that you are all looking forward to that). No matter who you are, I am sure that you desire both material things and 'something more' which could include something stupid like 'love'; something along those lines. Now, a post about how much I hate 'love' is yet another thing that shall be left for another time, but for this post I do wish to quote; well to quote someone, I am unsure who; something that is actually relevent: "pleasure of love lasts but a moment, pain of love lasts a lifetime". It is on that note that I ask you this: is it not better to desire things that are certain to bring happiness that will last forever without the pain, or that are easily replaced? A television perhaps, or maybe your very own goose that lays giant golden eggs. The different things that make us happy also depend on our mood; for example right now I can only think of one thing that I want more than some Chinese dumplings, and that is a topic that you do not want me to get into because reading a huge rant about how my ex should be shot is not that interesting despite how theraputic it is to write. The point is; that's right, my posts have a point; that it is hard to measure a general 'happiness value' for all things because every person is different at any given time.
My life plan seems to rely heavily on winning the lottery to provide me with all the material things that can bring me happiness such as an unnecessarily large house, a 1969 Pontiac GTO, a wadrobe so full that I couldn't possibly wear all the clothes inside it, and a home interior that is completely cohesive and complementary. Just the thought of these things makes my heart leap for joy, but does all of that make me seem greedy? What exactly can be classified as 'greedy'? If I want something and it does not deprive someone else of happiness, then I don't feel that I can be labelled as 'greedy'. It is true that we all want to gain the greatest pleasure with the least amount of pain, which is an underlying theme in the criminlogical Classical Theory which I'm sure none of you care about; but does this make us all selfish and greedy? Most of humanity thinks of their own happiness before that of others, not to say that they do not care about the happiness of others, but it is certainly of less concern than their own. Most people want great amounts of money and the highest level of happiness that they can possibly achieve. I guess this makes us a greedy world, but it is simply human nature to be this way; it is human nature to want; it is humannature to begin your career as a typical boyband but then, as boybands lost the love of the 13 year old girls, (their key demographic) to change into a group that sings mainly covers of songs that old ladies would buy and that they never wanted to sing in the first place. Sure they are making money, but where has their dignity gone? Where is their self respect? Let's move on from that stupid comment please.
So, how does this 'greed' thing work? Does having more make you want more? If we reach a desired level of happiness are we, as human beings, likely to stop wanting? Do we need to keep receiving to maintain happiness? When do we classify ourselves as 'happy enough'? Do I ask too many questions in my blog posts? The answers to all these questions, and more, in the next installment of "Nobody Cares; They Only Read Due to Boredom"! (But not really, this topic will probably never be seen again on "Fake It For Me"; try to control your sadness.)
(Points for whoever links the opening and closing lines to one of my favourite childhood films! Bonus points if you find the reference inside the text to the same movie. Games are fun.)
Don't care how, I want it now!
Buonasera my fellow anti-social butterflies, and welcome to yet another day of nothing but surrounding yourself in the most recent thoughts of others in the form of a blog post. Tonight as I sit on my bed thinking about how I do not have to travel 45 minutes to uni tomorrow, I realised that I have been absent from both of the blogs that I contribute to for quite some time, and have decided to gather up some of my random thoughts and extract one from my head. Tonight I want to write about want; why and what do we all want?
The general consensus is that we want things so that we can be happy, which sounds reasonable enough to me, but how can we measure this happiness in comparison to how much we want? Some things obviously result in a larger rise in happiness than others; the purchase of new shoes on sale is likely to be of less 'happiness value' than getting a 99.95 ENTER score, although it would be the opposite in my case (OMGZZ I LOVE SHO3Z! [but seriously, I do love shoes]). The measure of happiness from obtaining things that we want can be distracting us fromt he actual happiness.
There are many different things that make different people happy. I would like to go on about fetishes but that is for another blog post; another time (I can tell that you are all looking forward to that). No matter who you are, I am sure that you desire both material things and 'something more' which could include something stupid like 'love'; something along those lines. Now, a post about how much I hate 'love' is yet another thing that shall be left for another time, but for this post I do wish to quote; well to quote someone, I am unsure who; something that is actually relevent: "pleasure of love lasts but a moment, pain of love lasts a lifetime". It is on that note that I ask you this: is it not better to desire things that are certain to bring happiness that will last forever without the pain, or that are easily replaced? A television perhaps, or maybe your very own goose that lays giant golden eggs. The different things that make us happy also depend on our mood; for example right now I can only think of one thing that I want more than some Chinese dumplings, and that is a topic that you do not want me to get into because reading a huge rant about how my ex should be shot is not that interesting despite how theraputic it is to write. The point is; that's right, my posts have a point; that it is hard to measure a general 'happiness value' for all things because every person is different at any given time.
My life plan seems to rely heavily on winning the lottery to provide me with all the material things that can bring me happiness such as an unnecessarily large house, a 1969 Pontiac GTO, a wadrobe so full that I couldn't possibly wear all the clothes inside it, and a home interior that is completely cohesive and complementary. Just the thought of these things makes my heart leap for joy, but does all of that make me seem greedy? What exactly can be classified as 'greedy'? If I want something and it does not deprive someone else of happiness, then I don't feel that I can be labelled as 'greedy'. It is true that we all want to gain the greatest pleasure with the least amount of pain, which is an underlying theme in the criminlogical Classical Theory which I'm sure none of you care about; but does this make us all selfish and greedy? Most of humanity thinks of their own happiness before that of others, not to say that they do not care about the happiness of others, but it is certainly of less concern than their own. Most people want great amounts of money and the highest level of happiness that they can possibly achieve. I guess this makes us a greedy world, but it is simply human nature to be this way; it is human nature to want; it is humannature to begin your career as a typical boyband but then, as boybands lost the love of the 13 year old girls, (their key demographic) to change into a group that sings mainly covers of songs that old ladies would buy and that they never wanted to sing in the first place. Sure they are making money, but where has their dignity gone? Where is their self respect? Let's move on from that stupid comment please.
So, how does this 'greed' thing work? Does having more make you want more? If we reach a desired level of happiness are we, as human beings, likely to stop wanting? Do we need to keep receiving to maintain happiness? When do we classify ourselves as 'happy enough'? Do I ask too many questions in my blog posts? The answers to all these questions, and more, in the next installment of "Nobody Cares; They Only Read Due to Boredom"! (But not really, this topic will probably never be seen again on "Fake It For Me"; try to control your sadness.)
(Points for whoever links the opening and closing lines to one of my favourite childhood films! Bonus points if you find the reference inside the text to the same movie. Games are fun.)
Don't care how, I want it now!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Braided Winterbottoms
Hello, you gleaming blogosphere you. Thought it was about time I popped my head in just to see what was happening. OH! and I also take um-bridge to Roger Eberts' claim that video games aren't art and decided to haphazardly, and round about-ly, debate this point in the form of a near stream of consciousness from the quiet solitude of the Shady Cave.
You see, recently I have developed a taste for those strangest of beings within the interweb, the indie game. To me, indie games used to be that smelly goth kid in the corner with those contacts that made pagan words move around their iris in an unnatural fashion. Interesting from afar, but not something I wanted to get into bed with. Now I find myself picking up every other indie whore I click by on the web in such a fervour I've become like some crazed, caffeine entranced nymphomaniac, eager for more of that innovative game-play. Half of them aren't even good, but I guess it's better for them to be sucking up my time than being jerked off by another machismo, homo-erotic First-Person Shooter set in a dystopian future (excluding Half-Life 2 of course).
Anyway, two games in particular have taken the metaphorical cake. Braid, if you had by now NOT heard of what has become the indie messiah for games, is a time manipulating platformer which basically takes the best parts of Super Mario, Prince of Persia: Sands of Time and an acid trip. The artwork is fantastic, obviously a labour of love, with clever set design, scripting and animation. The score is also brilliant, I left the experience still humming phrases in my head. Although admittedly the story is too complex and abstract for possibly even the most accomplished of minds to fathom, it leaves you intrigued to the very end, with a compelling and down right cool ending sequence like none I've ever seen.
My question here, (I assume my) adoring public, how do this many creative minds come together to form a shining pinnacle in entertainment, with no monetary goals in mind, and not form art?
The Misadventures of PB Winterbottom was another game I recently entered into, and thought was pretty cool. You control a rather portly, yet unjustifiably quick, pie-thief who has the power to record his movements and play them back as clones of himself. It's set in a very victorian-steampunk background, with clever scripting (done in puns and rhymes in a silent movie style) and is obviously satirical of many elements present in those most sacred of ancient art forms. The concept art is brilliant, and the music and sounds accompanying ol' Winterbritches along is characteristically pompous yet fun. It really makes you want to enjoy the brain busting puzzles it sets you, and honestly it succeeds.
One last game takes some sort of comparative cupcake, to keep up the metaphor used in a previous paragraph, because, while it is good, it is quite short and just a bit infuriating at times. Today I Die by Daniel Benmergui is a game where you control a small area of 8-bit style world, with the phrase "dead world full of shades today I die" at the top. This is poetry, but the way the game is fulfilled is by switching words found in the game space through only using the mouse within that phrase, and it as that phrase changes so does the world around you. The soundtrack to it is emotional, as is the game itself despite it's very simple art direction. However, the objectives are incredibly easy to understand and just a bit predictable. Sometimes just by clicking on something it'd practically give you the instruction on what to do. It's like giving a colonoscopy with a butt-scratcher, sure you've got the right idea, but it just goes that bit too far.
Nevertheless, this game shows honest creative intent and each of the above set out to prove points about society as a whole. Each conveys emotion, opinions and thoughtfulness. How could this not be art? Braid questions what we as a person want; is it love, or just acceptance, or to be unique? PB Winterbottom is a comedic take, more like pop-art in this context, but it makes a sterling effort and it is a great finished work. Today I Die questions whether we could easily alter the world we perceive through changing our simplest outlooks on how we wish to interact with it. Yet Ebert maintains this is not art. Personally, I disagree like a Jew posed with the idea of a pork ribs wrapped in bacon and marinated in a whole ham. And possibly cooked by a catholic.
Anywho, sorry about the short post guys
See you round, Folks. This has been Shady.
You see, recently I have developed a taste for those strangest of beings within the interweb, the indie game. To me, indie games used to be that smelly goth kid in the corner with those contacts that made pagan words move around their iris in an unnatural fashion. Interesting from afar, but not something I wanted to get into bed with. Now I find myself picking up every other indie whore I click by on the web in such a fervour I've become like some crazed, caffeine entranced nymphomaniac, eager for more of that innovative game-play. Half of them aren't even good, but I guess it's better for them to be sucking up my time than being jerked off by another machismo, homo-erotic First-Person Shooter set in a dystopian future (excluding Half-Life 2 of course).
Anyway, two games in particular have taken the metaphorical cake. Braid, if you had by now NOT heard of what has become the indie messiah for games, is a time manipulating platformer which basically takes the best parts of Super Mario, Prince of Persia: Sands of Time and an acid trip. The artwork is fantastic, obviously a labour of love, with clever set design, scripting and animation. The score is also brilliant, I left the experience still humming phrases in my head. Although admittedly the story is too complex and abstract for possibly even the most accomplished of minds to fathom, it leaves you intrigued to the very end, with a compelling and down right cool ending sequence like none I've ever seen.
My question here, (I assume my) adoring public, how do this many creative minds come together to form a shining pinnacle in entertainment, with no monetary goals in mind, and not form art?
The Misadventures of PB Winterbottom was another game I recently entered into, and thought was pretty cool. You control a rather portly, yet unjustifiably quick, pie-thief who has the power to record his movements and play them back as clones of himself. It's set in a very victorian-steampunk background, with clever scripting (done in puns and rhymes in a silent movie style) and is obviously satirical of many elements present in those most sacred of ancient art forms. The concept art is brilliant, and the music and sounds accompanying ol' Winterbritches along is characteristically pompous yet fun. It really makes you want to enjoy the brain busting puzzles it sets you, and honestly it succeeds.
One last game takes some sort of comparative cupcake, to keep up the metaphor used in a previous paragraph, because, while it is good, it is quite short and just a bit infuriating at times. Today I Die by Daniel Benmergui is a game where you control a small area of 8-bit style world, with the phrase "dead world full of shades today I die" at the top. This is poetry, but the way the game is fulfilled is by switching words found in the game space through only using the mouse within that phrase, and it as that phrase changes so does the world around you. The soundtrack to it is emotional, as is the game itself despite it's very simple art direction. However, the objectives are incredibly easy to understand and just a bit predictable. Sometimes just by clicking on something it'd practically give you the instruction on what to do. It's like giving a colonoscopy with a butt-scratcher, sure you've got the right idea, but it just goes that bit too far.
Nevertheless, this game shows honest creative intent and each of the above set out to prove points about society as a whole. Each conveys emotion, opinions and thoughtfulness. How could this not be art? Braid questions what we as a person want; is it love, or just acceptance, or to be unique? PB Winterbottom is a comedic take, more like pop-art in this context, but it makes a sterling effort and it is a great finished work. Today I Die questions whether we could easily alter the world we perceive through changing our simplest outlooks on how we wish to interact with it. Yet Ebert maintains this is not art. Personally, I disagree like a Jew posed with the idea of a pork ribs wrapped in bacon and marinated in a whole ham. And possibly cooked by a catholic.
Anywho, sorry about the short post guys
See you round, Folks. This has been Shady.
Friday, April 9, 2010
20 Minutes
It seems as though it is that time again; time for a forced blog post due to an extended period of time since either Shady or I have graced the computer screens of all you procrastinators out there. There is another blog that I occasionally contribute to, and inspired by my last post on that blog which was written in 35 minutes during a Biology lecture, I have decided to write a blog post in a restricted amount of time; more specifically, 20 minutes. This introduction aside, I will have 20 minutes to write about whatever I choose, with time updates at 5 minute intervals. Let us begin now at time 0.
Before starting this blog I tried to think of something that I could write about in only 20 minutes, but my train of thought quickly moved to all the things that one can do when given just that small amount of time. This, of course, gave me my topic which I hope will not end up being boring as I am going to post this regardless of the quality of the content. So the things that one could do when given 20 minutes are countless, but I can only focus on a few, since I have only been given 20 minutes.
SEX – I admit that this would not be the best sex if it took only 20 minutes, especially if that time included foreplay, but it is quite possible and also satisfying enough to do this in that amount of time. Many times I have done this, usually due to a limited amount of time, for example when I had to leave for work in 15 minutes and I could not go without a little mood booster. Now this is one of those things that you could do with 20 minutes, but it can also take up larger amounts of time; you have to love a variable in any situation as it makes an interesting topic, but we are not here to discuss the different lengths of sexual activity. We are now at time 5 and must be moving on.
COOKING PASTA – As a half Italian girl it is very important that I know how to make pasta. As a girl born into Australian culture with an Italian mother, it is inevitable that I have absolutely no idea how to cook anything. Ok, I can make mashed potatoes and if the pasta sauce is already made I am able to heat that up and boil the pasta; does that count? When I say ‘cooking pasta’ I of course mean defrosting sauce and boiling the dry pasta in a saucepan; not really cooking but I can do it in 20 minutes. I’m aware that there are many other dishes that can be cooked in the same amount of time, but I chose pasta as it is extremely simple so even someone such as me can do it, and I like mentioning that I am Italian because it sounds cool; I think so anyway.
WATCH AN EPISODE OF BLEACH – Now I don’t like to do this in 20 minutes as it would mean I have to skip both the opening and closing theme songs which I love ever so much. In fact, two of those themes are currently used on my phone as a ringtone and message tone. Now at time 10, I am glad that I was able to start a new subject before that time clicked over. One episode of Bleach; an anime show that I have become addicted to thanks to my dear friend Shady Lewis; takes about 24 minutes to watch which is just over our time limit. If I was the viewer it would take this long, but many people care not about the songs or the novelty clip at the end and so could easily squeeze the entire episode into 20 minutes with the intention, I’m sure, that I could write it into this post. These are the people like Shady, who decide to skip an entire arc because it was a filler and apparently useless, but I am determined to watch it no matter how ridiculous it is (I am currently halfway through said arc and it is insanely stupid). Now at time 15, I better get a move on.
SERVE APPROXIMATELY 13 CUSTOMERS AT SAFEWAY – This applies on a fairly quick day in which customers come through a normal register (not express) with a number of items that barely exceeds the limit of the express check out. These tiny baskets of groceries mixed with the occasional customer who brings through two and a half trolleys worth of shopping will allow the employee behind the counter to serve approximately 13 customers in 20 minutes. Most will take less than 2 minutes, some may even take 30 seconds, but those large loads will definitely bring down your average. There is, however, one variable that could throw this tally completely off track: the chatty customer. Whether they be complaining, inquisitive, or simply friendly, these customers hold your attention while other wait impatiently in the line so they can talk to you about how they think the store can be improved or how their son would really love a job with the company, like I have any power over who is employed at the store I work at. Annoying people aside, 20 minutes equals about 13 customers.
At time 19, or 1 minute left, it seems that, when given 20 minutes, one can write an entire blog post about a few of the things that others can do with the same amount of time. Thanks for reading
-Renji
Before starting this blog I tried to think of something that I could write about in only 20 minutes, but my train of thought quickly moved to all the things that one can do when given just that small amount of time. This, of course, gave me my topic which I hope will not end up being boring as I am going to post this regardless of the quality of the content. So the things that one could do when given 20 minutes are countless, but I can only focus on a few, since I have only been given 20 minutes.
SEX – I admit that this would not be the best sex if it took only 20 minutes, especially if that time included foreplay, but it is quite possible and also satisfying enough to do this in that amount of time. Many times I have done this, usually due to a limited amount of time, for example when I had to leave for work in 15 minutes and I could not go without a little mood booster. Now this is one of those things that you could do with 20 minutes, but it can also take up larger amounts of time; you have to love a variable in any situation as it makes an interesting topic, but we are not here to discuss the different lengths of sexual activity. We are now at time 5 and must be moving on.
COOKING PASTA – As a half Italian girl it is very important that I know how to make pasta. As a girl born into Australian culture with an Italian mother, it is inevitable that I have absolutely no idea how to cook anything. Ok, I can make mashed potatoes and if the pasta sauce is already made I am able to heat that up and boil the pasta; does that count? When I say ‘cooking pasta’ I of course mean defrosting sauce and boiling the dry pasta in a saucepan; not really cooking but I can do it in 20 minutes. I’m aware that there are many other dishes that can be cooked in the same amount of time, but I chose pasta as it is extremely simple so even someone such as me can do it, and I like mentioning that I am Italian because it sounds cool; I think so anyway.
WATCH AN EPISODE OF BLEACH – Now I don’t like to do this in 20 minutes as it would mean I have to skip both the opening and closing theme songs which I love ever so much. In fact, two of those themes are currently used on my phone as a ringtone and message tone. Now at time 10, I am glad that I was able to start a new subject before that time clicked over. One episode of Bleach; an anime show that I have become addicted to thanks to my dear friend Shady Lewis; takes about 24 minutes to watch which is just over our time limit. If I was the viewer it would take this long, but many people care not about the songs or the novelty clip at the end and so could easily squeeze the entire episode into 20 minutes with the intention, I’m sure, that I could write it into this post. These are the people like Shady, who decide to skip an entire arc because it was a filler and apparently useless, but I am determined to watch it no matter how ridiculous it is (I am currently halfway through said arc and it is insanely stupid). Now at time 15, I better get a move on.
SERVE APPROXIMATELY 13 CUSTOMERS AT SAFEWAY – This applies on a fairly quick day in which customers come through a normal register (not express) with a number of items that barely exceeds the limit of the express check out. These tiny baskets of groceries mixed with the occasional customer who brings through two and a half trolleys worth of shopping will allow the employee behind the counter to serve approximately 13 customers in 20 minutes. Most will take less than 2 minutes, some may even take 30 seconds, but those large loads will definitely bring down your average. There is, however, one variable that could throw this tally completely off track: the chatty customer. Whether they be complaining, inquisitive, or simply friendly, these customers hold your attention while other wait impatiently in the line so they can talk to you about how they think the store can be improved or how their son would really love a job with the company, like I have any power over who is employed at the store I work at. Annoying people aside, 20 minutes equals about 13 customers.
At time 19, or 1 minute left, it seems that, when given 20 minutes, one can write an entire blog post about a few of the things that others can do with the same amount of time. Thanks for reading
-Renji
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
...But I didn't have a mountain, I had a Blogpage.
Hello Blogosphere. I have something to announce. It is very important and I must have your attention. Shady Lewis...Is a massive nerd.
Ok, so that was probably about as obvious as Oprahs waxing and waning cake fetish, but I felt I needed to make it unashamedly clear. Personally, I think everyone is a massive nerd somewhere inside. I'm just true to my inner nerd. Tell me for one second if someone offered you a game of Dungeons and Dragons somewhere with some friends you wouldn't take them up on it. Booze, funny figurines and a story you can mess with...and dice? It's like the ultimate board game. So why do people hate it so? (Admittedly, I've never played a game of D&D, but if someone asked me to play, I'd be all over that like Quentin Tarantino on feet). Is it because we've lived through ages of stereotypes where the jocks are the coolest, and nerds who play D&D live like a sub species of humanity? Seriously, everyone these days are geeks. It used to be if you were into computer games you were a geek. Now a majority of males, including jocks, play games such as Halo (*shudder*). Nerd culture is becoming intertwined with the commonplace, but still nerds are seen as the least cool in society.
Largely the nerd "dress-code" probably doesn't help. They're about as inconspicuous as a Goomba at Mario's birthday bash. If just for once we could get them to break out of their cheap runners, cargo pants, black shirts and fleecy pullovers it would be like biting through the calf muscle of the animal keeping nerds down. Or, you know, totally like that scene when Legolas takes down the Oliphant in Return of the King. Imagine if geeks actually SHOWED some geek chic? How often does that happen that an honest to god geek can ever have the word "Chic" attributed to him? Anything? Anyone?
Unfortunately however, the reason most nerds are still lowest on the social ladder is the complete lack of social tools one can muster (most also lack the upper body strength to physically CLIMB a ladder in the first place, but that's neither here nor there in this metaphor). I am currently undertaking one of the most superficial of all undergraduate degrees, a double degree in Games and Interactivity. This gives quite an amazing insight into who actually works in the games industry, and it is not a pretty sight people...Three girls sat in my first Interactive Games Structures lecture (of about 100 people) and around each one of them, there was a circle of chairs separating them as if they had cooties. After that circle was a group of such insurmountably socially retardant (no I mean retardant, not retarded. They are in fact impervious to social norms) dweebs gawking as if it was the first time they'd seen a girl without the aid of the internet. Come on, grow some self esteem and talk to someone! Unfortunately they never do, and instead turn to the interweb to get their social on.
But this makes for many, many nerds who are just plain mean. The nerd culture is something I believe everyone has a secret love affair with, like your cleaning lady. However, nerds themselves are largely just internet trolls looking for lulz by causing you as much pain as possible. That or grammar nazis in Modern Warfare 2. I HATE them. But this is a vicious cycle. These massive nerds have been pushed down by the stereotypes they have become defined by. If nerds were accepted, then we wouldn't HAVE asshole nerds (who I will now refer to as assherds.), but because we HAVE assherds others get repressed by the stereotypes that are to bind them to a similar fate.
Once again this has become a post about inherent wrongs in society. It seems to be a common theme for me, like Mythbusters and their complete lack of scientific content. But I can't steer away, it's like smack. One go around, and you wake up three hours later up to your ankles in frangelico with three French hookers screaming about how you beat up their monkey and ate the scented three-burner candle. Except less expensive. So I apologise for the depth with which my flippant posts always seem to dig with little or no evidence but that of the anecdotal.
SO now it's time for the shallow part.
Playing through Dragon Age: Origins has so far been an interesting experience in really working out the gaming community and critics. This game, for those how don't know, is a fantasy role playing game (RPG) where you must defeat darkspawn by stepping into the shoes of a human/elf/dwarf who specialises as a warrior/mage/rogue. Sound stereotypically familiar? It should. It's like every other generic fantasy RPG ever conceived. However, this game garners a pretty impressive score of 91 on metacritic and was lauded as the third best game of last year.
The controls handle like a wet salmon. The setting is like everything we've seen before, except with better voice acting. The abilities, weapons, armour, enemies and loot look ripped out of every D&D game offshoot ever created. The character customisation, marketed as one of the best ever to grace our humble, pixelated characters, was even pretty mediocre. So why is this game so good? Because it's exactly what most gamers want. A slab of cold, familiar, stats-based slaying of mysterious evil foes with some story in.
These days it seems if you get a done concept, get some voice actors, make the game-world big and half pretty then BAM! Quicker than a monkey with a spatula can make a shit sandwich, you have a game of the year.
However, I think my main beef with this game is I have no idea what on earth I'm meant to be doing almost ALL THE TIME. It tells you quite simply "Open your journal to view your quests". However, once I've viewed my quests (usually that classic "hey, can you get me X of this so I can give you X of this?" drivel) I actually had less clue of where I was going. Am I going to the swamps to get the flowers or the fields? I guess that lady looks pretty haggy, maybe the swamps? But the swamps have darkspawn. I HATE darkspawn. Fine, I'll go to the fields. Only I find out 20 minutes later, after looking up a walk-through, it wasn't the swamps OR the fields, it was a freaking niche next to the old church with the crier! OF COURSE!?!? Where else do flowers grow but at the feet of zealoutous monks who you can't shut up and instead make you avoid that area of the game for fear of bleeding ears.
Overall, average game. Nothing to see here folks. This has been Shady.
*Also, points to the person who can point out the inspiration for the title of this particular rant.
Ok, so that was probably about as obvious as Oprahs waxing and waning cake fetish, but I felt I needed to make it unashamedly clear. Personally, I think everyone is a massive nerd somewhere inside. I'm just true to my inner nerd. Tell me for one second if someone offered you a game of Dungeons and Dragons somewhere with some friends you wouldn't take them up on it. Booze, funny figurines and a story you can mess with...and dice? It's like the ultimate board game. So why do people hate it so? (Admittedly, I've never played a game of D&D, but if someone asked me to play, I'd be all over that like Quentin Tarantino on feet). Is it because we've lived through ages of stereotypes where the jocks are the coolest, and nerds who play D&D live like a sub species of humanity? Seriously, everyone these days are geeks. It used to be if you were into computer games you were a geek. Now a majority of males, including jocks, play games such as Halo (*shudder*). Nerd culture is becoming intertwined with the commonplace, but still nerds are seen as the least cool in society.
Largely the nerd "dress-code" probably doesn't help. They're about as inconspicuous as a Goomba at Mario's birthday bash. If just for once we could get them to break out of their cheap runners, cargo pants, black shirts and fleecy pullovers it would be like biting through the calf muscle of the animal keeping nerds down. Or, you know, totally like that scene when Legolas takes down the Oliphant in Return of the King. Imagine if geeks actually SHOWED some geek chic? How often does that happen that an honest to god geek can ever have the word "Chic" attributed to him? Anything? Anyone?
Unfortunately however, the reason most nerds are still lowest on the social ladder is the complete lack of social tools one can muster (most also lack the upper body strength to physically CLIMB a ladder in the first place, but that's neither here nor there in this metaphor). I am currently undertaking one of the most superficial of all undergraduate degrees, a double degree in Games and Interactivity. This gives quite an amazing insight into who actually works in the games industry, and it is not a pretty sight people...Three girls sat in my first Interactive Games Structures lecture (of about 100 people) and around each one of them, there was a circle of chairs separating them as if they had cooties. After that circle was a group of such insurmountably socially retardant (no I mean retardant, not retarded. They are in fact impervious to social norms) dweebs gawking as if it was the first time they'd seen a girl without the aid of the internet. Come on, grow some self esteem and talk to someone! Unfortunately they never do, and instead turn to the interweb to get their social on.
But this makes for many, many nerds who are just plain mean. The nerd culture is something I believe everyone has a secret love affair with, like your cleaning lady. However, nerds themselves are largely just internet trolls looking for lulz by causing you as much pain as possible. That or grammar nazis in Modern Warfare 2. I HATE them. But this is a vicious cycle. These massive nerds have been pushed down by the stereotypes they have become defined by. If nerds were accepted, then we wouldn't HAVE asshole nerds (who I will now refer to as assherds.), but because we HAVE assherds others get repressed by the stereotypes that are to bind them to a similar fate.
Once again this has become a post about inherent wrongs in society. It seems to be a common theme for me, like Mythbusters and their complete lack of scientific content. But I can't steer away, it's like smack. One go around, and you wake up three hours later up to your ankles in frangelico with three French hookers screaming about how you beat up their monkey and ate the scented three-burner candle. Except less expensive. So I apologise for the depth with which my flippant posts always seem to dig with little or no evidence but that of the anecdotal.
SO now it's time for the shallow part.
Playing through Dragon Age: Origins has so far been an interesting experience in really working out the gaming community and critics. This game, for those how don't know, is a fantasy role playing game (RPG) where you must defeat darkspawn by stepping into the shoes of a human/elf/dwarf who specialises as a warrior/mage/rogue. Sound stereotypically familiar? It should. It's like every other generic fantasy RPG ever conceived. However, this game garners a pretty impressive score of 91 on metacritic and was lauded as the third best game of last year.
The controls handle like a wet salmon. The setting is like everything we've seen before, except with better voice acting. The abilities, weapons, armour, enemies and loot look ripped out of every D&D game offshoot ever created. The character customisation, marketed as one of the best ever to grace our humble, pixelated characters, was even pretty mediocre. So why is this game so good? Because it's exactly what most gamers want. A slab of cold, familiar, stats-based slaying of mysterious evil foes with some story in.
These days it seems if you get a done concept, get some voice actors, make the game-world big and half pretty then BAM! Quicker than a monkey with a spatula can make a shit sandwich, you have a game of the year.
However, I think my main beef with this game is I have no idea what on earth I'm meant to be doing almost ALL THE TIME. It tells you quite simply "Open your journal to view your quests". However, once I've viewed my quests (usually that classic "hey, can you get me X of this so I can give you X of this?" drivel) I actually had less clue of where I was going. Am I going to the swamps to get the flowers or the fields? I guess that lady looks pretty haggy, maybe the swamps? But the swamps have darkspawn. I HATE darkspawn. Fine, I'll go to the fields. Only I find out 20 minutes later, after looking up a walk-through, it wasn't the swamps OR the fields, it was a freaking niche next to the old church with the crier! OF COURSE!?!? Where else do flowers grow but at the feet of zealoutous monks who you can't shut up and instead make you avoid that area of the game for fear of bleeding ears.
Overall, average game. Nothing to see here folks. This has been Shady.
*Also, points to the person who can point out the inspiration for the title of this particular rant.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Shady in Montage-World
Has anyone else realised that so many recent films boil down to an endless bombardment of quick, by themselves worthless, filmographic* efforts? Seriously, half the time I watch an American action film I expect the song "We're Gonna Need a Montage" from Team America to pop up out of the blue. Stories unfold by snapshots of a real life. It's infuriating and often gives me a headache after too much of it. It's like bad sex. Sure, there are some good bits amidst the swathe of average, but you inevitably leave disappointed and unable to really remember anything specific about it.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix seems one of the best films to put here. Seriously, I spent about 5 minutes sitting here trying to remember that film. The furthest I got was remembering that pang of loathing after I realised Sirius was dead...Only I realised this on the way home from the Cinema. These films hold absolutely no emotional grip on you, because the characters are more like cardboard cut outs wheeled into frame whenever the director wants another 20 second peek into the life of the main character. Seriously, what did Ron do in that film? I can't remember anything. He's one of the main characters and as far as I can remember he had maybe 3 or 4 lines! This, of course, brings us to that argument made by so many grumpy geriatrics to so many enthralled youngsters, "Films have too much special effects these days."
And you know what, I agree with the senile old men of the world! What this means for my aging psyche I don't know, maybe by the age of 80 I'll just end up rabid and biting people who state any of the Twilight saga amongst their favourite movies. But still, films that use less CGI end up having a much deeper impact on us! Inglorious Bastards, for instance, uses incredibly little and is honestly one of the best films i've seen in recent cinema. Shutter Island, another affecting film, has even less albeit with a lot of heavy light filters.
Actually this entire post is stemmed from last weeks review of Alice in Wonderland. That film embodies everything I am arguing against here. It was pretty, sure, but you never became emotionally attached to any of the characters as they flittered in and out of Alices' singular viewpoint. Also, while the CGI was very cool in places, in completely detached you from most of the characters as they were just to freakish to really relate to, and the fight scenes became really just a melange of colour and blur effects. It's the porn star of film. Most of it isn't real, and you don't feel involved because it's quick, larger-than-life (unfortunately) and ends awkwardly.
But that's probably enough of the hating on Alice. I hear you all out there, all three of you, and I think you're crying "yeah, but if everything's so shit, what's actually good then?". Well, I hope so, because I'm going to answer that question anyway. Inglorious Basterds my friends, is a great recent film. Every scene lingers, you remember every detail, line and character because they're all quite memorable. The same goes for Shutter Island, as I mentioned earlier. Even Iron Man, a typical comic book film, had scenes that you remembered because they took their time unfolding more often then not. It wasn't some Bourne Identity hack job where if there hasn't been a jump cut within the last 3 seconds then the editor obviously isn't working hard enough. It wasn't some earlier Harry potter knock up where CGI takes precedence over story. It told it's narrative in time, while mixing in enough generic action bits and humour (with the occasional bit of product placement) to keep all the corporate, idiot and plain average types happy.
So who else is sick of the incredible amount of 90 minute Montages out there? Who wants films of substance? Who wants to remember their sex!? I mean Movies!? Well, I'm not sure what to do about it, because there isn't much we people can do against the corporate cats. Once we've paid to see a movie we don't like, they already have our money. BUT we can stop liking films just cause that cool actor is in it. Or because Tim Burton directed it. Just saying.
Thanks Folks, This has been Shady.
*I know filmographic isn't a word, but god damn I'm going to make it one.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix seems one of the best films to put here. Seriously, I spent about 5 minutes sitting here trying to remember that film. The furthest I got was remembering that pang of loathing after I realised Sirius was dead...Only I realised this on the way home from the Cinema. These films hold absolutely no emotional grip on you, because the characters are more like cardboard cut outs wheeled into frame whenever the director wants another 20 second peek into the life of the main character. Seriously, what did Ron do in that film? I can't remember anything. He's one of the main characters and as far as I can remember he had maybe 3 or 4 lines! This, of course, brings us to that argument made by so many grumpy geriatrics to so many enthralled youngsters, "Films have too much special effects these days."
And you know what, I agree with the senile old men of the world! What this means for my aging psyche I don't know, maybe by the age of 80 I'll just end up rabid and biting people who state any of the Twilight saga amongst their favourite movies. But still, films that use less CGI end up having a much deeper impact on us! Inglorious Bastards, for instance, uses incredibly little and is honestly one of the best films i've seen in recent cinema. Shutter Island, another affecting film, has even less albeit with a lot of heavy light filters.
Actually this entire post is stemmed from last weeks review of Alice in Wonderland. That film embodies everything I am arguing against here. It was pretty, sure, but you never became emotionally attached to any of the characters as they flittered in and out of Alices' singular viewpoint. Also, while the CGI was very cool in places, in completely detached you from most of the characters as they were just to freakish to really relate to, and the fight scenes became really just a melange of colour and blur effects. It's the porn star of film. Most of it isn't real, and you don't feel involved because it's quick, larger-than-life (unfortunately) and ends awkwardly.
But that's probably enough of the hating on Alice. I hear you all out there, all three of you, and I think you're crying "yeah, but if everything's so shit, what's actually good then?". Well, I hope so, because I'm going to answer that question anyway. Inglorious Basterds my friends, is a great recent film. Every scene lingers, you remember every detail, line and character because they're all quite memorable. The same goes for Shutter Island, as I mentioned earlier. Even Iron Man, a typical comic book film, had scenes that you remembered because they took their time unfolding more often then not. It wasn't some Bourne Identity hack job where if there hasn't been a jump cut within the last 3 seconds then the editor obviously isn't working hard enough. It wasn't some earlier Harry potter knock up where CGI takes precedence over story. It told it's narrative in time, while mixing in enough generic action bits and humour (with the occasional bit of product placement) to keep all the corporate, idiot and plain average types happy.
So who else is sick of the incredible amount of 90 minute Montages out there? Who wants films of substance? Who wants to remember their sex!? I mean Movies!? Well, I'm not sure what to do about it, because there isn't much we people can do against the corporate cats. Once we've paid to see a movie we don't like, they already have our money. BUT we can stop liking films just cause that cool actor is in it. Or because Tim Burton directed it. Just saying.
Thanks Folks, This has been Shady.
*I know filmographic isn't a word, but god damn I'm going to make it one.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Sing It To Me #1
It’s a wonderful day down here in the small town of Merrydale, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the forecast shows nothing but clear skies for the rest of the week. It’s the perfect fake day to reveal the start of a new segment called ‘Sing it to me’, which is perfect for when I am quite bored or haven’t posted in a long time, but cannot think of anything to post about. I thought of this while sitting in my biology lecture about cell organelles thinking about how I know all of this information already; it got me thinking about other things that I know, like the lyrics to many Disney songs. The plan is to choose a song from a Disney movie and analyse it to the point of lunacy, and of course without serious intention. I hope my interpretations don’t all end up being rather sexual, but they most likely will. Today I feel the need to post about a song from one of my favourite (but not my absolute favourite) Disney sequels: ‘For a Moment’ from ‘The Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea’.
Melody:
Ok, get a grip, get the hang of this flipper
She is obviously trying something new, I would say ‘flipper’ is code word for ‘penis’.
it's like slipping two feet into one big, huge slipper.
Well I did not expect such a young girl to be that loose, or that kinky.
This way left, but which is right?
Losing your virginity can be awkward; it is tough to know where you are going.
Well now I'll be circling in circles all night.
She is determined to get the hang of it, even if it takes all night and numerous sexual encounters.
(Oh, so this is forward? No problem)
She has managed to get into the rhythm now after an undisclosed elapsed amount of time in which she practiced.
I can't believe I can do this and more,
to swim in the sea like I walk on the shore.
Out of my shell, not closed up like a clam.
This is a metaphor for being able to have proper sex as easily as she can pleasure herself. She is no longer ‘closed up’ and has confidence.
Look out sea,
this is me,
here I am!
Young Melody wants the world of sex to know that she is ready for it.
For a moment all of me
is alive and at home in the sea.
This ‘moment’ of feeling alive in the ‘sea’ of sex is simply her fantastic, toe-curling orgasm that many girls have never, and will never achieve; that bitch.
I'm swirling and twirling so graceful and grand,
not stubbing my toes, getting stuck in the sand.
Melody has developed such a skill that she, unlike many women who often feel bloated, whale-ish, and awkwardly positioned during sex, is graceful like a floating angel riding a ‘horse’.
For a moment life is cool
i'm a splash in the world's biggest pool.
She loses herself in these moments, getting a thrill out of being undirected and lost, she is one step away from the blindfold and handcuffs, which leads to the whip and then in turn the leather; next thing you know she if urinating on her partner and asking him to bite off one of her toes.
This is more than my thoughts ever thought it could be.
For a moment, just a moment, lucky me.
This statement is pretty self-explanatory; this sex makes her feel good, perhaps due to some daddy issues that we have not been shown that occurred between the filming of the first and second movies.
Ariel:
If only for one moment
I had shared with you all I know.
The sea wouldn't be a mystery.
Oh why did you have to go?
Ariel, Melody’s mother, has realised that her daughter is gone and logically concludes that in avoiding the sex talk, she has driven her daughter away into the vast ‘ocean’ to find out about the mystery that is sex. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and she is doinking all of them for a reasonable fee.
Melody:
Everything's newerand brighter and bluer
and truer to life than before
watch me soar!
This refers to the bright blue pills that her pimps Tip and Dash have gotten her addicted to, and which she often accepts as payment for her sexual favours. They are just one more way to make her feel alive; to make her ‘soar’.
For a moment I can shine
got a grin and a fin that works fine.
The repetition of ‘for a moment’ is not to reiterate the fact that she is fairly good at sex, but rather to show contrast between her early sexual experiences that lifted her spirits and showed her ‘a whole new world’ (oh the Disney connections, just wait for me to sink my teeth into that one), and her new and current attitude towards selling her body for drugs and money which now seems to be her only skill; her only means to live.
My fingers are wrinkly and I really don't care
if all the curls have curled out of my hair.
Melody is finally coming to terms with the fact that the drugs are deteriorating her health with symptoms such as ‘wrinkly’ skin, and that her origins as an innocent girl trying to find her way have been cast into shadow by her now dirty hooker image for which she does not even have the energy to simply fix up her hair. She has lost all pride in her appearance and is just living client to client, pay to pay.
For a moment I can feel
all the dreams I've been dreaming are real.
Wish my mother could hear it
the sea is my song.
For a moment, just a moment I belong.
Melody is sending word to her mother that she does not wish to be found. Acting as though all is well and that her every dream has been fulfilled, she hopes to forever avoid the worried, terrified, and disappointed expression on Ariel’s face as she sees her daughter for what she has now become.
Ariel:
I will find you, my darling.
And the moment that I do
I'll hold you close, my Melody
and sing the song of the sea with you.
Sing the song of the sea with you.
Ariel, as a mother, has powerful intuition that Melody’s new life is not all that she would like it to be. She continues her search and knows that she will not be deterred by whatever her daughter looks like, but will hold her close and explain how sex should be; hopefully it’s not too late to save her once innocent mind.
Melody:
For a moment, just a moment
I belong.
Feeling that sex is the only way that she can belong, Melody is too far into her life now to be rescued and will continue to run from reality.
This song is about a young girl going through puberty and blazing hormones without the help of her mother, who shared little to no information of sex with her, so her journey was difficult. She discovered sex on her own and did not have the proper guidance, and so, ran off to discover such a thing for herself. Her path was an unlucky one and due to a certain turn of events, she eventually became a hooker. Later in the movie she meets to young men, Tip and Dash, who seem friendly and take her on an adventure; I take them to be her pimps. Her mother, Ariel, has realised her mistake and regrets not sharing with Melody everything about sex even at her young age.
This has been an experimental process and I would love to hear feedback or even suggestions of different Disney songs; I promise I will try to avoid making every single one based on something sexual. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Melody:
Ok, get a grip, get the hang of this flipper
She is obviously trying something new, I would say ‘flipper’ is code word for ‘penis’.
it's like slipping two feet into one big, huge slipper.
Well I did not expect such a young girl to be that loose, or that kinky.
This way left, but which is right?
Losing your virginity can be awkward; it is tough to know where you are going.
Well now I'll be circling in circles all night.
She is determined to get the hang of it, even if it takes all night and numerous sexual encounters.
(Oh, so this is forward? No problem)
She has managed to get into the rhythm now after an undisclosed elapsed amount of time in which she practiced.
I can't believe I can do this and more,
to swim in the sea like I walk on the shore.
Out of my shell, not closed up like a clam.
This is a metaphor for being able to have proper sex as easily as she can pleasure herself. She is no longer ‘closed up’ and has confidence.
Look out sea,
this is me,
here I am!
Young Melody wants the world of sex to know that she is ready for it.
For a moment all of me
is alive and at home in the sea.
This ‘moment’ of feeling alive in the ‘sea’ of sex is simply her fantastic, toe-curling orgasm that many girls have never, and will never achieve; that bitch.
I'm swirling and twirling so graceful and grand,
not stubbing my toes, getting stuck in the sand.
Melody has developed such a skill that she, unlike many women who often feel bloated, whale-ish, and awkwardly positioned during sex, is graceful like a floating angel riding a ‘horse’.
For a moment life is cool
i'm a splash in the world's biggest pool.
She loses herself in these moments, getting a thrill out of being undirected and lost, she is one step away from the blindfold and handcuffs, which leads to the whip and then in turn the leather; next thing you know she if urinating on her partner and asking him to bite off one of her toes.
This is more than my thoughts ever thought it could be.
For a moment, just a moment, lucky me.
This statement is pretty self-explanatory; this sex makes her feel good, perhaps due to some daddy issues that we have not been shown that occurred between the filming of the first and second movies.
Ariel:
If only for one moment
I had shared with you all I know.
The sea wouldn't be a mystery.
Oh why did you have to go?
Ariel, Melody’s mother, has realised that her daughter is gone and logically concludes that in avoiding the sex talk, she has driven her daughter away into the vast ‘ocean’ to find out about the mystery that is sex. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and she is doinking all of them for a reasonable fee.
Melody:
Everything's newerand brighter and bluer
and truer to life than before
watch me soar!
This refers to the bright blue pills that her pimps Tip and Dash have gotten her addicted to, and which she often accepts as payment for her sexual favours. They are just one more way to make her feel alive; to make her ‘soar’.
For a moment I can shine
got a grin and a fin that works fine.
The repetition of ‘for a moment’ is not to reiterate the fact that she is fairly good at sex, but rather to show contrast between her early sexual experiences that lifted her spirits and showed her ‘a whole new world’ (oh the Disney connections, just wait for me to sink my teeth into that one), and her new and current attitude towards selling her body for drugs and money which now seems to be her only skill; her only means to live.
My fingers are wrinkly and I really don't care
if all the curls have curled out of my hair.
Melody is finally coming to terms with the fact that the drugs are deteriorating her health with symptoms such as ‘wrinkly’ skin, and that her origins as an innocent girl trying to find her way have been cast into shadow by her now dirty hooker image for which she does not even have the energy to simply fix up her hair. She has lost all pride in her appearance and is just living client to client, pay to pay.
For a moment I can feel
all the dreams I've been dreaming are real.
Wish my mother could hear it
the sea is my song.
For a moment, just a moment I belong.
Melody is sending word to her mother that she does not wish to be found. Acting as though all is well and that her every dream has been fulfilled, she hopes to forever avoid the worried, terrified, and disappointed expression on Ariel’s face as she sees her daughter for what she has now become.
Ariel:
I will find you, my darling.
And the moment that I do
I'll hold you close, my Melody
and sing the song of the sea with you.
Sing the song of the sea with you.
Ariel, as a mother, has powerful intuition that Melody’s new life is not all that she would like it to be. She continues her search and knows that she will not be deterred by whatever her daughter looks like, but will hold her close and explain how sex should be; hopefully it’s not too late to save her once innocent mind.
Melody:
For a moment, just a moment
I belong.
Feeling that sex is the only way that she can belong, Melody is too far into her life now to be rescued and will continue to run from reality.
This song is about a young girl going through puberty and blazing hormones without the help of her mother, who shared little to no information of sex with her, so her journey was difficult. She discovered sex on her own and did not have the proper guidance, and so, ran off to discover such a thing for herself. Her path was an unlucky one and due to a certain turn of events, she eventually became a hooker. Later in the movie she meets to young men, Tip and Dash, who seem friendly and take her on an adventure; I take them to be her pimps. Her mother, Ariel, has realised her mistake and regrets not sharing with Melody everything about sex even at her young age.
This has been an experimental process and I would love to hear feedback or even suggestions of different Disney songs; I promise I will try to avoid making every single one based on something sexual. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Thursday, March 11, 2010
The green monster
"Well I have a lecture and then I am going to go see a movie with T."
So he is seeing a movie with a friend; this doesn't sound like a big deal does it?
Did I mention that this best friend is a girl? Now Renji, this just sounds like unfounded jealousy; boys can be just friends with girls and you know this; you have many male friends to whom you are not attracted in the slightest.
Did I mention that T is very attractive and has rather large boobs? Well they do say that beauty is on the inside and that looks aren't everything. In the words of my good friend Zack, "more than a handful is a waste'.
Did I mention that he asked her out a while back? He obviously likes you then since he asked you out more recently. I expect that he is over her now.
Did I mention that he was in love with her for years but endured continual rejection?
Is it not possible that he is not actually over her but has simply given up because she doesn't feel the same way, yet once she realises that he is attractive, funny, and amazing, and returns those feelings that there will be a relapse? I think so.
I am not concerned with the fact that he has friends. I have no right to stop him from hanging out with his other friends, nor do I want to, but seriously... I have sex with you, I think I deserve some time. Now, I admit that I do get time too, but why is it that I have to organise it everytime, and why is it that we have left the house once for at least the last twenty times I have seen him?
I couldn't care less that he wants to spend time with the boys or time alone with his flawless T because I know that I love hanging out with my friends. I am friends with most of his friends because of school and I was friends with them before we got together. Everyone deserves to spend time with their friends and just because they are in a relationship it doesn't mean that they have to dedicate the majority of their time with them. I don't have enough free time to hang out with M very often because of uni and work and my other friends, but the time that I do have I would have loved to see him. Now I have changed my mind.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Well I have a lecture and then I am going to see a movie with T"
"Do you want to come over tomorrow night then? Nobody home."
"Mum and dad are asleep. I will ask them in the morning"
"Yeah ok."
End of conversation.
This happens so often that I can barely stand it anymore. Starting right now I refuse to be the first. I have waisted a lot of phone credit being the first one to send a message and although I have told myself so many times before, this time I am serious. I am never again suggesting to catch up and he can do it next time. I have had boyfriends in the past who would always want to spend time with me; not to the extent that they ignore their friends, but enough to seem like they actually wanted to see me. And another thing; when was the last time we hung out without having sex? I mean, I sure as hell enjoy that but I'm sure we can find something different to do.
I will be quite fine to go about my daily business without needing to hear from him and I won't sit and wait for a message. There are many other people with whom I can spend my time and I'm sure we can think of things to do other than sex.
To come back to the point with which I began, I am generally a jealous person. T is one of the greatest people I have ever met and I love her to bits, but that makes it worse when it comes to M. Because of my awful jealousy, I have become an extreme facebook stalker, following the every move of my current, and for some reason, all my ex boyfriends' pages. I just like to know what is going on and how many girls want in their pants I guess. It is disgraceful and I hate myself for it, but everyone does it to some extent.
So the basic idea is; I get really jealous which is not helped by M's best friend being freakishly hot, and I am giving up on trying to initiate conversation. Trust me, you will hear more about this since it is an ongoing annoyance of mine. I apologise for the lack of amazing vocabulary and the poor writing but it is late and I am ever so tired. This post could have waited until tomorrow when I would sit and wonder whether or not M would show up, but I wanted to get it out now so I could actually sleep. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
**EDIT**
Apparently they went to the zoo... I am so glad they found a lovely spot to spend the entire day together. I wonder if he already knew they were going to the zoo when he told me they were going to the movies. Fine, don't think of fun places to go with me; just take her fun places.
So he is seeing a movie with a friend; this doesn't sound like a big deal does it?
Did I mention that this best friend is a girl? Now Renji, this just sounds like unfounded jealousy; boys can be just friends with girls and you know this; you have many male friends to whom you are not attracted in the slightest.
Did I mention that T is very attractive and has rather large boobs? Well they do say that beauty is on the inside and that looks aren't everything. In the words of my good friend Zack, "more than a handful is a waste'.
Did I mention that he asked her out a while back? He obviously likes you then since he asked you out more recently. I expect that he is over her now.
Did I mention that he was in love with her for years but endured continual rejection?
Is it not possible that he is not actually over her but has simply given up because she doesn't feel the same way, yet once she realises that he is attractive, funny, and amazing, and returns those feelings that there will be a relapse? I think so.
I am not concerned with the fact that he has friends. I have no right to stop him from hanging out with his other friends, nor do I want to, but seriously... I have sex with you, I think I deserve some time. Now, I admit that I do get time too, but why is it that I have to organise it everytime, and why is it that we have left the house once for at least the last twenty times I have seen him?
I couldn't care less that he wants to spend time with the boys or time alone with his flawless T because I know that I love hanging out with my friends. I am friends with most of his friends because of school and I was friends with them before we got together. Everyone deserves to spend time with their friends and just because they are in a relationship it doesn't mean that they have to dedicate the majority of their time with them. I don't have enough free time to hang out with M very often because of uni and work and my other friends, but the time that I do have I would have loved to see him. Now I have changed my mind.
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Well I have a lecture and then I am going to see a movie with T"
"Do you want to come over tomorrow night then? Nobody home."
"Mum and dad are asleep. I will ask them in the morning"
"Yeah ok."
End of conversation.
This happens so often that I can barely stand it anymore. Starting right now I refuse to be the first. I have waisted a lot of phone credit being the first one to send a message and although I have told myself so many times before, this time I am serious. I am never again suggesting to catch up and he can do it next time. I have had boyfriends in the past who would always want to spend time with me; not to the extent that they ignore their friends, but enough to seem like they actually wanted to see me. And another thing; when was the last time we hung out without having sex? I mean, I sure as hell enjoy that but I'm sure we can find something different to do.
I will be quite fine to go about my daily business without needing to hear from him and I won't sit and wait for a message. There are many other people with whom I can spend my time and I'm sure we can think of things to do other than sex.
To come back to the point with which I began, I am generally a jealous person. T is one of the greatest people I have ever met and I love her to bits, but that makes it worse when it comes to M. Because of my awful jealousy, I have become an extreme facebook stalker, following the every move of my current, and for some reason, all my ex boyfriends' pages. I just like to know what is going on and how many girls want in their pants I guess. It is disgraceful and I hate myself for it, but everyone does it to some extent.
So the basic idea is; I get really jealous which is not helped by M's best friend being freakishly hot, and I am giving up on trying to initiate conversation. Trust me, you will hear more about this since it is an ongoing annoyance of mine. I apologise for the lack of amazing vocabulary and the poor writing but it is late and I am ever so tired. This post could have waited until tomorrow when I would sit and wonder whether or not M would show up, but I wanted to get it out now so I could actually sleep. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
**EDIT**
Apparently they went to the zoo... I am so glad they found a lovely spot to spend the entire day together. I wonder if he already knew they were going to the zoo when he told me they were going to the movies. Fine, don't think of fun places to go with me; just take her fun places.
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