dar | Recent Entries

Have figured that one of the things that the heroes in The Book are going to have to contend with before they get off their crappy not-a-real-planet-anyway is the seemingly endless legions of ramblers, roamers, excursionists and intergalactic jetsetters who go off-world all the damn time, at the drop of a hat, and rub our heroes faces in it in the most infuriating way possible. Namingly, by being pleasant about it.
"Oh, yes, I just got back from Ganymede and next week I'm off to Venus, can you believe it?"
"I can't believe you've never been to Mars! I just spent seven months there and I'm going back soon, it's so wonderful!"
"The wife and I have a villa on Saturn, so we divide our time between here and there."
"You know, your cousin has gone to Gilese 581c for a year to live and work with his girlfriend."
"But you know, there's really nothing like coming back home to Pluto... Mostly because I'll be leaving again shortly."

The problem with these people is not what they've done. They're right to be happy, travel is wonderful. The problem isn't even with what they say. The problem is how they say it; like you can afford to go too, and that the only reason you haven't is because you like being stuck in a crappy town that Springsteen could make a double-album's worth of material out of if it wouldn't give him nightmares.
Money's a lot like oxygen: you don't even notice how much you've got until it starts running out.

Hmm. This is probably something that needs to be funny and sad. It's two things we do well.
There was a bloody annoying conversation in the garage yesterday. Out with the rose-tinted glasses on Ireland in the past. Back in the good old days, when there was no murder because they used to cover them up so much better back then. Ah, the good old days, when you didn't have to lock your doors and you could leave your kids with the priest. He'd take good care of them, and if they complained their asses were sore after, why, you'd take the priest's side of the story! Ah, good old days. When there was none of this violence in the streets like there is no. No, back then, when a young man wanted to be a bloodthirsty psychopath, you'd just send him up North, get him to kill someone who had it coming and call him a hero. Ah, the good old days. There was none of these foreigners coming in off the boat pregant with ten kids. Back then, we still had good high rate of infant mortality. And if a woman acted up, there was your fist if she were your wife and there was the Magdalene Laundries if she were your daughter. Ah, the good old days. There was none of this career nonsense. Back then, drinking was a career, now it's just a lifestyle!

I found something out about my brother recently that put me in something of an awkward position. If I wanted to, I could have him out of the house and his life ruined, all for being a complete fucking idiot. But I can't seem to muster up my inner bastard enough to want to wreck his life. And I definitely can't find the inner bastard enough to exploit the situation for my own benefit. Fuck. You are who you are when you're alone with your conscience.
It's a rather annoying to think how much more prosperous and rich you'd be if you were ruthless and brutal. Sometimes feels like the only way to get to be what you want to be is via being what you don't want to be.

Sadly, all I've done about Paul is returning the favor by pretending he doesn't live here. If he's not going to pretend I do, I'm not going to pretend he does. I'm sick of having to leave next to a porno theatre just because he's found some Katy Perry idiot who hates her father enough to let that shithead climb on top of her.

Ellie's been displaying early symptoms of bipolar disorder (wouldn't be out of line with the list of interesting items that are up for grabs in our family's genetic lottery) though my mother says she's just confused. Damn fucking right she's confused, she has two of everything.

Ugh. I just want to be out of this house. I realized the other night that I miss the intense dreams that I'd get if I stopped taking my medication for a little while. The dreams would just be so long and detailed and interesting, I figured they were worth the headaches and brain shivers I'd get for not taking the pill. I think I was actually addicted to the dreams. But I blame life for being empty enough to make me want to lose myself in dreams.

Wouldn't go back on Effexor if you paid me, though. ...Well, actually, if you paid me, I'd say I would do it, then I'd just take the money and run. Because if I had the money with which to run, I'd never need an antidepressant ever again, duh.

Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: Amanda Palmer - "The Point Of It All"

Dear Diary. Today I left the house for something other than work. Met with my new friend, the lovely Lauri, for coffee and talk of what a town this is to ~~be stuck~~ live in. A meeting of the minds, or at least geeks. Of which there are still so few in this town. But yes, fun was had. We talked a lot, about the gamut of subjects of people talk about when getting to know each other. Kinda like what a job interview should be like ("Hi, I'm me and I'm not crazy or fail! In fact, I could be awesome.") =p But yes, all sorts. From gaming to creativity to culture shock. Americans still seem to be surprised when a non-American actually has something nice to say about America.
I'm kinda surprised hearing about the kind of 1950's level sexism that's alive and well in this country. Then again, I suppose I'm just used to fighting with the kind of 1850's level racism that's alive and well in this country, I kinda forget that most -isms tend to go hand in glove.
Or. Wankers are just in no short supply here. And even the most hardened gaelic-speaking, tricolor-waving, Guinness-drinking armchair Sinn Fein supporter wouldn't argue that. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

My misspent youth can be divided into two categories; all the time I spent inside playing Final Fantasy VII and not out socializing, going to parties or having a girlfriend - and all the time I spent inside playing Final Fantasy VIII and not out socializing, going to parties or having a girlfriend. Thanks to the PSN, I have been reliving the latter.
Apparently, it's been exactly ten years since the European release. And unlike most things a decade old, it actually feels like ten years. Unlike, for example, 9/11. Holy shit, next year will be the tenth anniversary of that. Where do I go to get my zimmerframe?

Anyway, FF8. What a game-changer that was. Much love from me, not much love from others, including Square. But that's okay. Us awkward middle child types have to stick together. I'm surprised at how much I actually forgot about this game. Like how good the sound is (for the time). My fingers still remember when to press the gunblade's trigger, even if my head forgot the delicious sound that makes. Speaking of which, I'd forgotten Quistis starts every battle with a crack of the whip. I don't know why I missed it in my younger (~~hornier~~) years; she's a teacher with a whip. She's a teacher. With a mollyflocking whip. Of course, so much of this game is "I'll be in my bunk" stuff. I actually did forget that Selphie's victory pose is shaking that oh so tappable booty. I'm a bad man. I've gotten old, but this game's cast are still jailbait >_>

Mind you, I do read things better now. Much better understanding of the characters. Some things I can't believe I was so clueless about. Like Quistis' obvious sexual harassment of Squall is hilarious in retrospect. Seems to have gotten past the radar in ways it never would if their genders were reversed. Squall, ever the professional, even calls her on it in a way few men ever word.
And no, I don't read that as him being gay, on account of who he's holding on the cover. I like characters that are very good at what they do because they have nothing else to be. Squall, I think, is good at what he does because he's forsaken any kind of socializing and concentrated entirely on training and professionalism. I like characters like that, who are brilliant but also stunted. That's another reason I like John Connor, he's similar in that regard.

I think this game was kinda ahead of its time (and not just because the Garden Network has a rudimentary 4chan), at least in ambition. You can tell there's so many things they wanted to do with it, but were hampered by the limits of current technology. There's stuff there that was implemented in later games much more successfully (particularly in FFX, with the summons and limit breaks). It might have been served better if they'd kept the idea for a later instalment in the series, but that's all could have and might have beens.
I do still wish we'd see these characters again, and not as cameos. That's the problem with things like Dissidia and Kingdom Hearts. They're the characters, and at the same time they're not. Apocryphal is probably the word I'm looking for. I'd like to see a genuine sequel, at some point. It could focus on the theme of getting older and the inevitability of being a grown-up.
I think it would open the same way the game does, with the text replaced by voice-over, and then going off in a different direction to show things have changed. I want these characters voiced, dammit, they're crying out for it. But I wouldn't want Doug Erholtz to voice Squall again. He makes him sound vain and full of himself, and that's Seifer. If I could get anyone, it would be J. Shannon Weaver (who voiced Kenshin in the OVAs), because he sounds cold, rather than angsty. I've said before how the lovely Miss Glau would make a great Rinoa (and there was much eye-rolling across the internet that day) but it's true. Her voice has a lot of energy that's usually kept subdued by darker or sad roles. I think of the scene in "Safe" where River tricks Simon into thinking he just ate poison berries, and her laughing "And you believed her!" is totally Rinoa. You need an actress with a lot of energy and warmth in her voice, because that has to come through in how Rinoa can penetrate Squall's shields and not take no for an answer. And you can't just recycle Aeris and Tifa's actors, because she's not that kind of character.
Another actress with a lovely voice is Kelly MacDonald, I've always read Selphie's lines in her voice. Selphie's always been Scottish to me, I just can't buy her as an American. On the other hand, Rick Gomez (who voices Zack in Crisis Core) would make an excellent Irvine, and you'd have trouble convincing me anyone else could do a better job. Lara Cody would do a great job as Quistis. Her Rosemary from Metal Gear Solid has a bit of an undeserved reputation for being overly emotional, considering most of the time she actually sounds quite professional yet warm. I'd like to see Quinton Flynn as Zell, because he hardly ever gets to play hotheads. Reno hardly ever loses his temper in Advent Children, but when he does, you can see where the actor could pull off Zell. I would definitely want Mary Elizabeth McGlynn for Edea/Ultimecia, because you so need someone who sounds both seductive and intimidating for that kind of character. And finally, there's Seifer, who in my head is the great and criminally underrated Liam O'Brien.

Anyway. Ten years on, it's still a treat to play. I'm looking forward to all the things I can now see through wiser (or at least older) eyes. The music's still good, the sound is still good, the Junction system is still fundamentally flawed yet compelling, and as always, I'm thankful for the analogue input. Which is default these days, but it takes playing a game without it (like FF7) to make you notice that.

Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Franz Ferdinand - "Tell Her Tonight"

Since a lot of new people have added me or discovered me somehow, I thought I'd follow the example of someone else I just added and give you the cliff notes of me.

1. First Name: Darren. I go by Dar or Daz, though prefer Dar, and my usual handle in an anagram of my full name.

2. Age: 27, which I've always considered a lucky number, but so far it hasn't been a very lucky year. So far.

3. Location: Dublin, and it's about time that was fixed.

4. Occupation: Nun (it's an old joke). If there's work for me in my dad's garage, I do it, but the pay's very little and the work is seldom. Actual employment in this city has gone to shit.

5. Partner?: AhahahahahahahahNO.

6. Kids: No thank you.

7. Brothers/Sisters: Two brothers, one older and one younger. Younger one had the sense to get out of here and lives in Wales. Wouldn't be my idea of an escape plan, but beats my older brother, who's managed to get his life back to exactly the same way it was ten years ago.

8. Pets: I am a dog person, but we have a cat.

9. List the 3-5 biggest things going on in your life:</b>
Not a whole lot, to be honest. Looking for work and just killing time til I can find it.

10. Parents: Mean well but still talk to me like I'm a kid.

11. Who are some of your closest friends?: Um. I think I'm going through something of a friend downsizing at the moment. I lost one friend I knew a long time because of a fight before Christmas, and she's made it next to impossible to ever even let me try to patch things up. Then after Christmas, another friend went through a pretty rough time and stopped talking to anyone, which includes me. I hope she's okay. She's the closest friend I've had in this town, so since then I've mostly been flying solo. Still get a bit lonely sometimes, but I've gotten a LOT better at that than I used to be.
Most of the people I can talk to about anything and would like only the best for me live far away, and all of us are in agreement that I'd usually do much better there than here.

12. Vague-ish five year plan: Get a job either here or abroad. If here, use that money to move abroad. If already abroad, skip that part and live my own life. Save up, see the world, be happy. Try to read or film something non-crap in the meantime.

Current Mood: okay
Current Music: Jackson Browne - "Running On Empty"

Before we begin, I want to start by saying that I have a new chair. It's big, leather and comes with armrests that make you want to swivel around in it and yell "Mister Sulu, fire torpedoes on my mark. Oh right, you don't exist and I'm a sad bastard, sorry."

So here's something I thought about while trying to sleep the other night; Schrödinger's God. Imagine the exact same set-up as with the cat; stick it in a box, and have it killed by poison released if an atom decays. Only now, if the cat's alive, there is a God. If the cat's dead, God doesn't exist. Oh, and it's physically impossible for anyone to open the box and check. Note that this isn't actually about whether there's a God or not, but how various attitudes towards the question have always seemed to be.

And the results are...
Normal believer: I think the cat's alive. In fact, I'm sure of it. But that's just me.
Jerkass believer: That cat is definitely alive and anyone who disagrees is a cat-hating piece of shit who deserves to be locked in a box full of poison. We should do what the cat says until it comes out of the box, and he left a long list of instructions. It's all here in my book...
Normal athiest: The cat's dead. It's not really important anyway.But that's just me.
Jerkass athiest: Of course the cat's dead! Is this some magical, supernatural cat with an immunity to poison? Atom's decay, poison is poisonous and that cat's worm-food. You people who want your kitty to be okay are just idiot little children who can't face reality. Your problem is you don't know how stupid you are, but I have the answers. It's all here in my book...
Agnostic: Since the box can't be opened, it's impossible to know one way or the other.

I had a dream I was back in school, which I guess is all I need to qualify it as a nightmare. So there I was, with my understandable anger at having to go through it all again, when who come up to me but the usual pack of fuckwits, to tell me that since I've been away for so long, they'll show me the ropes and what's what. They said with much snickering.
"My, how uncharacteristically altruistic of you." I said. They looked at each other, then burst into laughing. Oh, they'd hit the jackpot here. This kid's so dumb and mentally impaired, he makes up big nonsensical words, we're gonna have so fun fucking with this tard.
Which is how it actually was in real life. But you know, I got to thinking. I'm like this because I've been on my own too much. They're like that because they've been around each other too much. I've adapted to a relatively solitary way of being, they've adapted to an interdependent way of being. Limited by yourself or limited by others? Well, I know which one I think is "better", but I'd argue that neither makes for an optimum human being.

Oh yes, I am now fully DLC'd on Fallout 3, after getting Mothership Zeta and Point Lookout. I keep calling it Point Pleasant, for some reason. No Mothman, though he'd hardly be out of place there. Have been decorating my Megaton house with tropies picked up in my travels. I use the Wasteland theme. I find the table useful for keeping said trophies on. Better than keeping it all in a locker. There's some things like armor helmets and stuff taken from the Vault. (My Lone Wanderer, Chaotic Neutral mercenary that he is, would never sell the BB gun Dad gave him.) And scattered all over the place are various guns, books, ammo and booze. Basically, it looks like how it would would if I really did were there.

I remember talking with Dama about our different play styles when it comes to Dragon Age. I got to thinking that it would be fun (though eventually violent) if our characters could interact, and I don't just mean the way people usually do in MMOs like FFXI and WoW, through text. I think that someday in the future (it's still a long way off, but it'll be a game-changer when it happens, pun unintended) you'll be able to interact with other players on the same level as you interact with NPCs. Something like real-time facial-motion matching the words spoken and heard over a headset. Things are still a long way off that level, though.

My friends have been so good to me ever since I declared my intentions to move. I'm still trying to figure out what I've done to deserve it.

Current Mood: awake
Current Music: David Bowie - "TVC 15"

A theory.
Diplomas were invented by Nikola Tesla as a way of providing relatively cheap and quick(er) means of getting qualified in something, for ordinary working class folk. Degrees, on the other hand, were invented by Thomas Edison, who favored the idea of a qualification that cost the most amount of money a person will ever spend, a fifth of their lifespan to achieve and enough stress to be considered torture by the definitions of the Geneva convention to gain. Edison then went about doing everything in his power, including bribery, slander, kidnapping, torture, murder and manslaughter to make sure degrees were the only accepted qualifications on this or any other planet.
Which is why to this very day the lack of or struggle for a degree continues to bring misery to millions of people all over the world, while diplomas are considered worth somewhat slightly less than used toilet paper, which can at least be used for fertilizer.

Hey, as a theory goes, it's right up there with evolution. Just because I don't have Richard Dawkins fanboying me doesn't mean I can't be right.

The teffle people are liars. On the front of their brochure, it says quite clearly (unless I've been afflicted with an eerie case of laser-guided dyslexia) in bold font "No degree required!". The even bigger words above it were "No degree? No problem!". Then I read the rest of it. My first warning sign, by the way, was an excessive amount of glibness. Nobody is ever that glib, especially not on paper, without something up their sleeve. If you try to sell something in a clinical way with just the facts people want to know, they'll appreciate the honesty. Being glib just makes folk wait to hear the catch.
You know how I know this? Because my Da is the only honest used car salesman in Ireland, and possibly the entire planet. He sells cars without trying to convince people their lives were empty before the car came along and that the car cures cancer and transforms into a sexy cyborg when you're not looking. He sells them by telling people they want a good car that'll give them value for money, and that's what he has.
So yeah, glib in sales = warning light. And I wasn't wrong (it's a habit I'm trying to get into). Because, funnily enough, even though they said "No degree required", you look at the options; China, Korea, Japan, Thailand, they all say the same thing under requirements; university degree. Lies, and the lying liars who tell them. And tomorrow I believe I will call them up and ask what's with the lying, and depending on my mood, those may be my exact words.

You ever notice, you're always only ever underqualified or overqualified? You're never the third bowl of porridge, you're never exactly what they're looking for. I confess, I have no idea how all this bullshit works. I never understood how I was always told that to live and work in America, you have to be qualified, and at the same time, I hear Americans talk of immigrants doing all the manual labour, some of whom barely speak English! Why can't I do that? I'd happily do that! Why am I being told I need a degree to do that?! What about Omar, who drove your cab this morning? What, is that where his masters degree in molecular biology has gotten him, corner of Broadway and 38th and waiting for a fare? That makes NO SENSE TO ME! What about all those entire families who went off there in the 80's? Degrees in this country were just an urban legend, back then! WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE?!

So, back to square one. And, of course, still haven't heard back from any job applications. But that's okay, I'm not used to being treated like I exist. It would probably just weird me right the fuck out. Actually, tell a lie, I did get an e-mail from Craig (I don't like Craigs. It's a curly-haired git's name) telling me "taking into account that you live in Dublin and the job is based in Surrey, I won’t be able to take your application any further, I’m afraid." Thank you for that, Craig, and for assuming I wouldn't move. I hope you go bald. *googles Surrey* ...Eh, I may have dodged a bullet.

So yeah, feeling very annoyed, and NOT down on myself. One day I'll be able to talk about myself without having to throw in a disclaimer that I'm not whining or feeling sorry for myself. One day I might even think you'd believe that. I'm angry because I deserve better. In a whole fucking lot. In opportunity, in love, in friendship. As said before, I'm tired of being treated like I don't exist. I deserve better than that. I don't need someone to tell me I'm not what they need right now, because that's NOT what I need right now.

I'm tired of the number of times I've been made to feel like my friendship and a bucket is worth the bucket. I've made mistakes, I know that. I learned friendship from bullies, who were the worst people to learn it from, but I've come a long way since then. And I've had friends that weren't bullies, just embarrassed to be seen with a guy with dirty fingernails, and the problem wasn't mine, because I thought friendship cut through class, but I could've handled it better. I've always been unconditional in my friendships, and I don't want that to ever change. Even if I don't know you as well as I'd like to, I'd still go above and beyond for you. And I don't do it because I want it to be mutual, but it would be nice if that were something I wouldn't have to be uncertain about. For once.
I still regret what happened with Ali. It showed why I can't afford to lose my temper. But I don't think I'm wrong to think she didn't want to save it. A friend would want to save a friendship. If that's not true, I can't accept it. That's one of the worst things about the internet: the ability to end a friendship with the click of a mouse. It shouldn't be that easy, but it is.

I'm sick of being made to feel unattractive or invisible. I'm not a horrible-looking guy, like I used to think. Sometimes I'm alright. I care how I look, and not out of vanity or insecurity, either. I like to think I've hit the right spot in the exact middle point between. Oh, there were times when I had the money, I could afford to show a girl a mediocre time, but neither of us seemed to mind, because it was more about the time than the money that was spent on it. But I'm broke, I haven't been on a date on years and it seems I'm only ever considered attractive when I'm foreign.
Why is it always because I'm Irish? Why can't it ever be because I'm me? I know, I'm one to talk, being attracted to Asian girls, but it's not like any one will do. She'd have to have the personality I'm attracted to, for starters. I joke about it a lot, but it does bother me that here I'm nobody, out there I'm Irish, and only a few times inbetween has it been because I'm me.
And even then, I've found attraction is bound by the second law of thermodynamics. I have noticed the longer you spend with someone, the more they cool on you. Maybe it's just me, I dunno. It certainly hasn't been that way for me when I'm attracted to someone. When I like someone, it stays at that level of infatuation for me, but for them it always seems to cool, and I have to abide by that. I'd like to enjoy the emotional solid state I see some friends in, but I haven't found it yet. Though right now what I just want is a friend to have fun with.

"I just want a mate." sighs the Doctor.
"You just want to mate?!" she gasps.
"I just want a mate."
"Well, you're not mating with me, sunshine!"
"A. Mate. I want A. Mate."

I get this. A lot. I liked the Doctor and Donna. Reminded me a lot of Sabrina and I, to be honest. Though considering she's the one that's been all over the place, done so much more than I have, while I've been stuck in this town trying to get my mind broader than the borders will let it, I'll let you figure out which is which.
I will say this. For all the missed opportunities in End Of Time, one scene actually got to me (far better than that hamfisted "I don't want to go" bollocks) was the Doctor almost crying in the cafe after saying he has no-one, then biting down it. That got me, because I've been that lonely before. And for all of how much so many of the other characters talk about how lonely the Doctor is supposed to be, that was the first and last time he's actually shown it.

So yeah. Still feeling stuck. Without money or a qualifications. "You should travel", people tell me, but unless they let you hitchhike on runways now, they're probably going to insist on cash. And if I didn't live on a fucking island, I'd be walking. For a country that's internationally known for having more of its citizens living abroad than living domestically, it sure is proving cartoonishly hard to leave, isn't it?

Current Mood: crappy
Current Music: Genesis - "Tonight, Tonight, Tonight"

Development on the Big Bad World front. My folks were out today and brought home brochures on teaching English as a foreign language in China. And well, that's pretty damn far, and an interesting option. They pay your way so you don't have to.
And it would be pretty damn cool to have the Chinese owe you one. When they take over, I imagine it would be useful if you were the one who taught the commandant of your work sector how to speak English.
"You there! Shier, isn't it?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"Ah yes. You taught me many great things, like H's were born to be pronounced. You were a feckin' great teacher."
"Sir, thank you, sir!"
"I'm transferring you to Alpha Sector. Your new assignment is licking Zhang Ziyi's shoes clean."
"Sir, thank you, sir!"

Probably won't happen. But you gotta admit, it does look appealing. Go to China for a few months, get paid (I love getting paid, even if it is in commie-cash), look good on a CV, then move on.

Of course, ironically it also means I'd have to keep my mouth shut. Then again, I'm surprisingly good at that. Usually because nobody talks to me =p I think I would just need someone to teach me what's what, so I don't wind up getting my organs harvested for jaywalking. That's an exagerration. What I mean is, I think I need to find out more about what it's actually LIKE, first.

So yeah, weighing up the pros and cons.

Cons:
- Uncertainty.
- Commieland.
- Never taught anything in my life (though it could get me used to speaking to a room of people)
- Internet censorship.

Pros
- Looks good on a CV.
- Asian chicks.
- Would get me far away from here.
- Asian chicks.
- I COULD LEARN HOW TO CURSE IN CHINESE!!!
- Asian chicks.
- Getting paid for something I know how to do.

So yeah, I'll have to think about it more before deciding if I want to apply. Also, gotta wonder, when you apply for something like this, do the Chinese google yo ass? Then again, I'm mostly around the internet as Raidenshred (not to be confused with Raiden's Shed), though something tells me my identity could do with better protection than hoping folk don't get anagrams. But then I just realized, their google doesn't work, AHAHAHAHAH!

Besides, they let Michael Palin in, and what made him famous was a show where he and his mates habitually made of folk like Lenin and Mao.

Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: David Bowie - "Sunday"

So, someone I just met said that on this journal I sound kind of like Rob from High Fidelity in my bittersweetness, which is pretty flattering, actually. And I can kinda see it, too. I try to be funny, but life has a way of throwing stuff at you to try to get you to quit joking. And sometimes I particularly feel Rob-like. You try not feeling like The Most Pathetic Man In The World when you're out anywhere with your parents, which is why I never am when I can avoid it. I suspect that may be one of those things that's different for girls, but I can't be sure. I think it's probably relatively okay (pun unintended) to be out anywhere with one parent, but not both. Especially when you're anywhere with just and your dad, because you feel like the Bishops on Fringe =p
If you haven't read High Fidelity, by the way, I recommend it. It has some things that make me like it less than the film (you would shoot U2 and Genesis? You bastard.) and some things that make me like it a whole lot more than the film. Mostly that Jack Black isn't in it. Although the bit where John Cusack strangles him is something of a personal highlight in the history of cinema. That was my "You had me at hello" =p That part of the tape is particularly worn. Back and to the left. Back, and to the left.

Oh, to a Jack I actually like. I watched the most recent ep of 24 again and I just realized; Renee is Jack in season two. Think about it. Brought in to be asked to go back into the field and infilitrate a group she'd been undercover with in order to stop a nuclear threat, and the first thing she does back at work is an act of horrific violence. It's too similar to be coincidence, or even lazy writing. Of course, Renee had a nervous breakdown and Jack's wife had been killed, and she only stuck a guy's hand in a vice and sawed off his thumb. Jack shot a pedophile and sawed off his head.
Jack's reaction to her is pretty damn interesting, to be honest. It shows he's come full circle, being horrified at something he'd have done before (and worse). Or maybe he feels a little guilty that he's turned her into him. I really hope she survives the season and finds a way back to redeeming herself, like Jack did. And hopefully not in a half-assed way, or worse, sacrifice. Because if there is one thing that that no character in the history of anything has ever been immune to, no matter how beloved, it is a trigger-happy writer. Wash, we hardly knew ye. If there's such a thing as Character Heaven, I hope you're up there giving it to Rachel from The Dark Knight.
I saw an article in the paper the other day about how this might be Kiefer Sutherland's last season, and then they suggested Freddie Prinze Jnr could take over as lead. Uhhhh. No. I think I speak on behalf of everyone in the fandom when I say we can't wait to see him get killed. As upsetting as that's going to be for Starbuck, we can't wait to see it. Besides, she could do with a better plot than the idiot one she's been handed. Sorry, Sackhoff fans, but there's one in every season, and it looks like she drew the short straw.
Realistically, Renee's the only one who could carry the show without Jack, brief as that would be. She's the only one who's close enough to his character without being lazy copy, by retaining her own personality and established backstory. Renee is to Jack as Raiden is to Snake. Get it now? And he just inherited that series, too. I've talked to other fans, and they always say the same thing; they wouldn't watch the show without Jack. I say there's no accounting for what you would or wouldn't do until you're given the opportunity. If it were me, I'd experiment. Come on, it's Fox. In the words of Krusty the Clown, you people are known for taking chances on crap. They give a series with Renee as the least the same thirteen-episode experiment they gave with the very first season of 24. ...While they're at it, they could uncancel Terminator and hand the rights to Firefly over to someone who'd use them >_>

While we're on the subject of fantastic violence, I slept on the couch last night because it was either that or kick my brother's ass. Yep, at it again. Only I was mistaken, he doesn't have a girlfriend. He has girlfriends. It's okay, every other woman on planet earth, I know you can't help them making you look bad. If I described these women as ideal for reality TV, I think you would know exactly what kind I'm talking about. So yes, I did not kick his ass, but it's on the cards. For now, my new tactic is I've decided to stop being nice to live with. Fact of the matter? I am the BEST damn room-mate nobody ever had, and I'm going to stop having that work against me.
And because of him, my folks locked their door when they went out, because they don't like it when he pisses all over the bathroom floor. Which meant yours truly couldn't use the decent shower and instead had use the crappy one. The one that rains down liquid nitrogen if anyone in the west of Dublin uses a tap. So yeah, another reason I gotta go, I'm sick of getting all the punishments and deterrents meant for him.

While on that couch, I had an odd dream. Or two. In one of them, it was discovered that water, of all things, could be used to store information. I have no idea of the science behind it (it was a dream) but basically it was that a normal glass of water could store more than even the largest hard drives, and the more water you had, the more powerful you computer. Which led to the oceans becoming literally a sea of information. ...Pretty cool, actually.
Another part of another dream was the word "spoony" being used in common parlance, like "shiny" on Firefly. Only it didn't mean cool, it in fact was used to describe a state of being that doesn't actually exist. I don't really know how to describe it. It's like a running joke, where it's used to describe characters and things and moods and objects and concepts, and the audience never gets if it's a good or a bad thing, but the characters do.
I was thinking of putting it in The Book, only to find out that "spoony" is actually in the dictionary, and that it means, along with silly, "foolishly or sentimentally amorous", which TOTALLY sounds like me! =p So yeah, undecided whether to include it or not. On the one hand, I like the Final Fantasy reference. On the other, it's a bit too much like Firefly. Then again, the whole thing basically is Firefly, only with Irish people and dead aliens.
Oh yes, another thing I'm thinking of is the characters getting stuck on a planet full of trendy jerks who speak entirely in annoying portmanteaus (no, I don't know which Monty Python sketches you're thinking about). Like saying "helcome", instead of "hello" and "welcome". And everyone's name is just the first letter and first syllable of the first and last names, respectively (Like John Connor would be J-Con. Ugh). And couples would have to ditch thier own names, mash them together and both of them go by the same one (John and Monica would be known as Johnica). Divorce would be non-existent, but schizophrenia would be through the roof.

Hmm, not much else left to say.
Except I think the rumors that Graham Norton is straight and putting it on are just hilarious. Because they prove how badly everyone wants to believe that everybody, especially celebrities, have a deep dark dirty secret that could destroy them.
Well, some probably do. I suspect that Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer are a right pair of kinky bastards, and that their fun time alone involves her getting out the corset and high heels, chaining him down and going at him with a hair straightener.

I could totally write for The Sun, but for I have a soul.

Current Mood: awake
Current Music: David Bowie - "Diamond Dogs"

I'm doing pretty good for three hours sleep. In fact, I do better on three hours sleep than I usually do on a full night. Though lately, for me a full night has actually been the last quarter of the night and half the day, so it's understandable.

Up early because there was actually work for me today (I'm still looking abroad). During work, the following exchange took place, and I thought I was pretty witty for pre-caffeinated just out of bed.
Da: (talking about a make of car) "They look really good in black."
Me: "Now there's something you don't hear very often around here."
Which led to Phil saying "Everything looks good in black except people." But I came prepared, and listed off a detailed list compiled over many long years of being a sad, single white boy with jungle fever: Tyra Banks. Zoe Saldana. Gabrielle Union. Aisha Tyler. Stacey Dash. Alicia Keys. Vivica Fox. Samantha Mumba. Aaaand when it came to the only name he actually recognized, the reply was "...Well, ...yeah, but she's more brown, not really black."
Now you just know that's the dumbest thing you've heard today. And even if you live in a particularly dumb place, that still makes the top five. Anyway, I have a new weapon in this old fight, and I find it remarkably potent. The only folk people like that can stand less than other races are gay people, so I just point out that few things sound gayer than coming up with arbitrary reasons why you wouldn't want to have sex with a beautiful woman.
Hey, it's their worldview, not mine. Remember kids, a closed mind will only listen to itself, so don't bother trying to fill it with anything new and instead find something in there you can turn on it. And I wouldn't have to if they were open-minded, so it's really their fault =p Anyway, it's a little more hardball than my previous one, which was saying "If it's good enough for Bowie, it's good enough for me." Although in recent times I have realized that also includes cocaine, crotch bulges and bisexual orgies, and I'm not going to one of them ~~outside Scotland.~~

Oh yes, realized if and when I do move to another country and start again, I can make that what I'd blog semi-pro about. For starters, at least.
Talked to my folks about plans to GTFO, and I forgot that their advice is usually crap, because their advice is usually that I should go back to college. And, you know, as much as I'm probably emotionally, mentally and intellectually ready for that, I need a plan of action that doesn't result in me going back to this house. If I want to go back to college, I'll do it after I've gotten a job, gotten established, gotten money and gotten direction, and then I'll go back as a mature student. And hook up with immature students. Come on, Irish accent, foreign college, I'd be like Colin Farrell in a brothel. Zevram at a party's camp. Or Jack Harkness at a PTA meeting.
Though they did loosen up a bit today. My mother says the only place she's heard of looking for people is Canada. Oh, Canada. Where all the hot chicks are. Or is that Scotland? I thought it was all of Asia. Hell, I don't know, even I can't keep up with me.

I'd just like to rudely interrupt myself here and point out that despite what it sounds like from the above comments, this decision to move out into the big bad world has not been made by my dick. Although my penis is formally recognized as the official head of state, it is purely a figurehead with no executive powers. Ladies.

...I think I'm entering that stage of overtired where you start to feel an odd sober kind of drunk, because I think I'm funnier when I'm drunk, but not in that way everyone thinks they're funny when they're drunk.

Oh, talk of funny. I watched that BBC Shakespeare Retold adaptation of The Taming Of The Shrew last night. I enjoyed it, and usually I don't like movies about rich upper-class British people (though I find them more bearable than rich upper-class Irish people. I find they're pretty out-of-character for us) but I enjoyed it, and not just because of my emerging Shirley Henderson bias. You will not find a more Shrew-like Shrew in many other versions, especially ones that can be that kind of character and remain adorable.
I will say this, I did like that Rufus Sewell's Petruchio wasn't a misogynist. Aside from the fact that it's ridiculously hard to be prejudiced when you're a transvestite (though God knows J. Edgar Hoover sure pushed the boat out), he was never consciously, intentionally cruel to Katherine, just ridiculously (almost cartoonishly) immature and weird. Yes, I said transvestite. Rufus Sewell looks surprisingly good in drag.

I'm not a transvestite, though if I had a penny for every woman who tried to get me into drag, I would probably have... three pence. Funny thing is, I got the opportunity to do so in college but I turned it down, because if you know me you know what my head was like back then. If I were doing that film now, I probably would, because I have the whole "Oh, go for it!" thing in my head now. I think, much like John Cleese, I'd probably look automatically hilarious. Aside from the unibrow, I'm a pretty big guy all over. I am by no means a small man (except where it doesn't count).
So yeah, it's something I'd probably only do once if it were for comedy (or if I met the ~~kinky~~ right girl and she was willing to wear this in return. Yes, I have a Viera fetish and DON'T YOU FUCKING JUDGE ME!) but not recreationally. Because (A) I just don't have that urge I've heard transvestites talk about and (B) I'm very particular about what I wear. Very particular. How particular? My dream girl will let me wear jeans to our wedding. And because she's my dream girl, she'll be cosplaying Tifa up the aisle. So yes, very particular about clothing. I do sorta envy women that they have so much variety, but I don't envy the sizes they come in. There are some looks I've seen I thought were really cool, like a skirt over jeans. It's probably gone out of style since I've seen it, but I liked it. It was the female version of a t-shirt over a top.

Though I did get to thinking, we probably have enough action transvestites by now to form that 1st Battalion Transvestite Brigade Eddie was talking about. And what a FUCKAWESOME movie you could make of that! The Dirty Dozen In Drag! "Fabulous Bastards" (look Quentin, I can spell it right). Right now there's only a short list, but I figure they could do it like SG-1; start off with a small, elite flagship unit and then gradually build everything up behind it until you're the most powerful military presence in two galaxies (not counting the pile of tossers who got lost on a ship somewhere).
In order to bolster recruitment, they need to scrap "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and replace it with "Have Lipstick, Will Kill", and even then they have to pass a rigorous training process, in heels. To qualify as an action transvestite, one must be a transvestite and have seen action. Not that kind of action, the action that usually occurs down the docks where certain men dress as ladies, but traditional kind of action, with things blowing up and guns and slow-motion and/or Michael Bay sitting back cracking one off.

The List;
1 - Eddie Izzard (The brains of the outfit. One might even say, the executive.)
2 - Cloud Strife (the muscle)
3 - Jack Bauer (public relations officer)
4 - Malcolm Reynolds (strategist)
5 - Madmartigan (master of disguise)
6 - David Tennant (team doctor)
7 - The Joker (team nurse)
8 - The Big Bad Wolf (recon: to see what big ears the enemy has)
9 - Klinger (company clerk)
10 - Eowyn (token tomboy)
11 - That squirrel. (the grizzled old veteran who's seen too much)

So yeah. Not much else left to say except: Effective Chinese advertising. I should warn you up front, and I'm totally not alone in this, but The Sarah Connor Chronicles COMPLETELY changed the meaning of the word "effective" for me. In fact, I'm five minutes from writing a polite but firm letter to the people at Oxford persuading them to include it in their big book. It's better than "hornifying", at least.

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: Muse - "Feeling Good"

So, it seems I went and got a fire lit under me.
It's funny, in books fear is always described as being like your heart stopping, but in reality it feels more like your stomach goes cold. Like a first or apple-sized chunk of ice just appears there for a moment. What brought this on?
Well, there I am, lying in bed, and don't you just hate it when whatever someone else is doing in their room is louder in your ears than what you're doing quietly in yours? For example, you'll be just listening to something well-composed and beautiful, and then a complete prick will insist that everyone else has to the listen to the same mindless, uninspired dance crap they are. Stuff like that.
So there I am, watching "The Road", thinking about what I'd do in that situation, what it means to be good people or bad people. When you're trying to survive, what's the difference? The difference is what you would do, and what you could live with, I guess. And through the walls comes the sound of my brother and dopey tart he's persuaded to let him climb on watching Married With Children. My brother has a horrible laugh, by the way. He has a bully's laugh. Even at something genuinely funny, he laughs like he's watching someone getting beaten up.

So, I had a "Not this again" moment, only it was a colossal "Not this again" moment, when I realized that through careful planning and fecklessness, this prick had managed to get his life back to exactly the same way it was six or seven years ago. And that scares me. That scared the living shit out of me, because I didn't know that was possible. I always saw life as a refining process, every day you get a little better at it, a little better at being yourself and a little closer to where you're going.
But he just proved that it's not. You can keep everything exactly the way you want it, and all you have to do is just stay in your little rut and nothing will ever change, and that's TERRIFYING. I looked at the ceiling, thinking it's 2010 and I'm 27, imagine it being 2020 and 37 and me still here and he's still there.

I'm not staying here and watching time go around again, I won't. I don't care what happens, but at least it won't be that. Yeah, uncertainty's scary but you know what's worse? Certainty. The certainty that if you stay, nothing will change. Trying to make something of yourself and failing is still better than trying to keep everything static.

So I'm going to go. I'm moving out, and no matter what happens, I'm not coming back. I'M NOT COMING BACK. I'm not going to be sitting here wishing my life was happening while he knocks up another idiot and gets everyone else to raise his kids for him and I don't CARE about running away because I should have done it a long time ago. I am a good person and it's time that started working for me instead of against me, and you'll NEVER have any idea what it takes for me to be able to say that.

I don't know where I'm going exactly. Or how I'll find Tibet, New York and the South Pole, but I know sure as fuck I won't find it here. I just need to think of this as the big version of all those solo trips I've made. I've been talking to Kirsten about it, she thinks it's a good idea, and I've been looking into foreign job agencies. Soon as one bites, I'm taking what little cash and clothes I've got and going. There's nothing here for me anymore. There's just NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. And if you could give me one good reason, just ONE reason why I should stay, I'd love to hear it. Go on.

I've been angry the last couple of days, but it's been good angry. Healthy angry. Because shit is getting to me, and I will NOT go back into depression again, godfuckingdammit, I will NOT.

Current Mood: scared
Current Music: Bob Dylan - "Positively 4th Street"

Yeah, it's okay to be me. Just sometimes it's hard to see the point.
A perfect example would be last night. I'm just using this as another example. You know, sometimes when you have to take a leak in the middle of the night, the polite thing to do is put the lid down and not flush, save it for morning, because flushing is very long and loud (and everything's louder at night) and people have to be up for work in the morning. I even use headphones whenever I'm up watching stuff, because I don't think everyone else has to listen to whatever I'm listening to, especially if they're doing something or trying to sleep. It's a courtesy of mine that like, oh, I dunno, fucking ALL OF THEM never gets returned.
So, there's me, doing my best to be stealthily polite in the wee hours (pun unintended). And there's my brother, drunk as fuck and singing (shouting) a fucking karaoke of Sex On Fire at five in the morning. Felt such an idiot (and that was after a long hard day of feeling like an idiot. Activision didn't even send me so much as a "get stuffed!").
Ain't that always the fucking way it is with everything? You do your best to be someone good, and the selfish jackass will be having more fun, more money, more employment and more friends than you. You clean up after yourself, shithead pisses all over the bathroom floor, you get talked to about it. You try to be quiet, shithead makes a load of noise, you get talked to about it. You try to earn your keep, shithead freeloads and uses, you're the one who's not wanted around. You always use a condom, shithead sticks it anything warm, you wind up babysitting.

So. Why am I telling you? Kvetching again, oh, I thought we gave that up. Here's a thing, I say I don't like fighting, that's not exactly true. What I mean is, I don't like my temper. I don't like who I am when I'm fighting. I get mean, vicious, out of control and don't hold back. I didn't want to tell Paul to turn it down, I wanted to beat the living shit out of him. I don't like it when people and friends try to provoke me, with the rationale that a little fighting is healthy every now and then. Not for me. I don't like who I am when I fight. I stop caring where I am, who I'm talking to and what the rules are. I once knocked the crap out of another kid, in class, with the teacher there, because I lost my shit.
But I control it. Which apparently makes me boring. But I have to control my anger so it doesn't control me. I know when anger is healthy, it's when you can say "I don't deserve this and I need to stand up for myself." I don't think it's healthy when you're trying to do your best to be good to people and they treat you like shit just to see you go off.

Oh, there goes that Darren gobshite again. Meek motherfucker will let you walk all over him in golf shoes. Idiot will do any favor for a please and thank you, what a chump! Forgets how to change a tyre if you don't remind him how halfway through doing it. He's entirely unsuitable for any job, so let's not give him the chance to prove us wrong. He's completely incapable of talking to the opposite sex, you know, he just drools down the front of his shirt and asks to see their tits. He's just that schmuck who goes on and on about Summer Glau all the time, makes crappy videos and never says anything of consequence. Good for a laugh, occasionally, but you wouldn't bring a bumbling child like that home to your parents, and you sure wouldn't want him on your team.

I get that, in both ears, to some degree or another, pretty much every day. I don't want people to think I'm great, I don't expect them to do, but I'll be damned if I'm going to suffer the assumption that I'm always less than I could be.
I think do unto others as you'd have done unto you is a pretty good rule I've tried to live my life by, and so far it's gotten me stepped on with the consolation prize that I'm at least trying to be good. With all of the above in mind, you could see where someone might develop a wee bit of a temper.

I get by because I have to have faith that things will work themselves out, and usually they do. But they don't when I blow up and stop them from being able to work out. That's why I have to keep in control, because nothing good ever came out of me getting mad. When I get angry, anything that would come out of it is always the worst alternative to whatever would happen if I just let it work itself out.

I don't want a fucking medal for just trying to be myself, because it's all anyone does. I just want to stop always being thought the least of all the damn time. What's wrong with a little common courtesy? I'll tell you what's wrong - it became very fucking uncommon.

Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: Carly Simon - "Coming Around Again"

I think one of the hardest things I ever had to learn was how okay most of the things I'd worry about were. I came up with so many stupid rules for myself I can't believe I stuck to, and whose origins are inexplicable at best.

Is there anything more damaging than following a rule you don't understand?

One would say "Sure, plenty!", but really, think about it for a second. This world we're living in is swimming with rules that make no sense. A third of the human race's problems can be chalked up to greed. Another third is stuff we're not responsible for; nature, chance, inevitability, dumb luck. The other third is because people follow rules they don't understand. Or rather, things that they think are rules, and which cause so much hurt.
For instance, "Fat people are unattractive". Or "gay people are wrong". Or "other races are less than my race". Or "men are better than women". There's no explanation for these rules, and if you ask someone who follows them why they do, they won't think about the rule, they'll just recite it back. They'll keep operating the way they do because it's learned behaviour and a questioning nature seems to be a difficult thing to acquire, because of the social awkwardness and isolation that usually comes with it.

I had similar pointless, silly, inexplicable rules I followed. "Boys don't cry." - why not? - it's a sign of weakness - why can't I show weakness? - someone may try to hurt you - but if I'm hurting already, then the damage is done.
Stuff like that, but also little things. Da doesn't like country music, so that means I have to dislike country music. Now I love steel guitar and Johnny Cash. I can see where I was blessed on that front. I can see how other people wind up hating gays and other races because they learned it from their idiot parents. I lucked out on that front by having fairly liberal parents because, like I said, I learned a lot of dumb rules I didn't understand.
School was the worst, that's no secret. Almost everything I learned there, I've tried to unlearn. I think it's fair to say that the rest of my life, from then til now, has been me recovering from school, in varying degrees of progress, relapse and progress.
School taught the stupidest rules;
- The majority is always right.
- Authority always knows better than you.
- Standing out is wrong.
- The popular choice is the correct one.
- What people think about you is important, especially if they disapprove.
- You have to become who they want you to be before you can be liked.
- Everyone is waiting for an opportunity to hurt you.
- What you think is wrong.
- It's normal for friends to habitually hurt you.
- If you're going to awkward, unusual and strange, you might as well be dead.

I've had to unlearn all of that BULLSHIT, and for as long as I live I will NEVER forgive them for the damage they've done. But the fact that I'm here, alive and having learned means I'm stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. And the bully in my head says "Haha, you had to claw your way up to normal, the rest of us were born that way, loser!".
Fuck that. I can do a lot better than 'normal', thank you very much. I've seen normal. It horrifies and disturbs me. The nicest, most inspiring and awesome people I've ever known were folk who didn't belong in normal. Nobody normal EVER made me go "Wow, I wish I could be just like that."
It's a cop-out to say "Oh, I'm like X character!" I'm a human being. I'm more complicated than a character. Much the same way a plan is more complicated than an idea.

I've learned it's okay to feel. I've learned it's okay to have unpopular choices and tastes. I've learned it's okay to be a weirdo. I've learned to reduce the number of people I care how they think of me from several billion down to a handful, which is pretty impressive. It's okay to be a dork. It's okay to like David Gray if nobody else does. It's okay to like Radiohead's "High & Dry" if the band hate it. It's okay to have manboobs and body hair. It's okay for the best you've ever been to not have happened yet.

If I'm down in my kitchen at 4a.m. and I feel like dancing across the tiles, the voice in my head that says "Don't do that, be normal" has NO call to say that. I refuse to feel foolish for doing what felt like me. I refuse to be embarrassed for admitting it here. It should be no different to admitting I listen to Phil Collins. Of all the things I've learned it's okay to be, the most important one is that it's okay to be me.

I like this song. Makes me feel like the calm after a storm. An emotional storm, that is. Things yelled, stuff thrown, feelings burned like fire, all spent, and resolution gained. It's all over now, and I'm ready for the credits to roll.

Current Mood: moody
Current Music: Phil Collins - "Take Me Home"

I was kinda surprised to hear about Spider-Man getting rebooted. It's usually the fourth film in a series that's so godawful it prompts a rebooting. Of course, there are a litany of crappy threes (Terminator, X-Men, Godfather and Alien 3. That last one depends on your mood. I'm also very nervous about Ghostbusters 3 >_>).
It's actually pretty easy to make Spider-Man, or indeed, any comic book character gritty. The solution does not lie in Frank Miller-esque testosterone overdoses to the point of dubious sexuality, as is usually done. No, the secret is actually in physics.
Movie audiences love physics, despite what many a director will tell you. Most of them don't even know they love it, but every time they see it in action, something at the back of the brain is screaming out "HOLY SHIT AWESOME! FUCKING PHYSICS, MAN!!". Like Tom Cruise getting blown off his feet and smacking into a car from the concussive force of a missile impact in Mission Impossible 3. Or the lack of sound effects in space in Firefly and the new Trek. Or Batman upending a truck. Or Kyle Reese shooting at fuel tank and having it NOT explode.
Audiences love the laws of physics because they're so unused to seeing them in action. Movie science has been dominant for several decades, to the point where many a director has found himself, when faced with the choice between movie science and real science, to go with movie science because they believed the audience wouldn't accept it. Reality is unrealistic, and all that. But now people want to see some realism, because it comes as a breath of fresh air. Movie science is still dominant, but now believability over spectacle has at least graduated to a legitimate option, rather than a last resort. I think what's happening with all these "realistic" reboots is that directors are realizing the audience doesn't want to see a movie act like a comic book, they want to see the comic book act like a movie.
It was actually Cracked, of all places, that pointed out how the internet may just force Hollywood to make better movies. The idea is that because of things like Twitter, word of mouth has gone real-time. Which means folk can tweet how much a movie sucks as soon as the credits roll. Or, if you're an asshole, during the movie (And yes, if you tweet during the movie, you are going to the Special Hell meant for child molestors, lecherous space captains and people who put Twilight in the horror section). The movie doesn't have a grace period, and the audience is no longer powerlessly anonymous. Now the entire moviegoing public is Simon Cowell. So movies have to either get good or get lost.
As for Spider-Man, I've already submitted long ago my idea for how the third movie should have been, and it was fuckawesome. Still, it's not my fault Hollywood didn't call me. The BBC haven't contacted me about fixing Doctor Who, either, but I think they're just committed to giving Steven Moffat a chance, and I respect their decision =p

Speaking of which, you ever notice how weird it is when you're used to seeing an actor as one character, then you see them in something else, and then you go back to the original thing you saw them in, and you've gotten used to them as the other character?
For instance, I was used to seeing Jewel Staite as Jennifer Keller the first time I saw Firefly, and I was all "What's Keller doing on Serenity?". Now whenever I see Atlantis, I'm feeling "What's Kaylee doing on Atlantis?". With supplemental "WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING LETTING THAT SHITHEAD CANUCK TOUCH HER?!?". Okay, so Kaylee's evidently got a thing for doctors, but sheesh. If she likes doctors, there's Carson. And he's Scottish. If you'd been paying attention, you would know that the Scottish are the sexiest goddamn race of people on the planet (Next to the Asians, obviously, but that's a matter of personal preference. Scottish Asians, by the way, have been known to reduce me to a pathetic, quivering puddle of wistfulness).
You can't even name a single ugly Scottish person. (Susan Boyle doesn't count, since she's not even human, but in fact a giant bag of angry cats.) I mean, just look at this list of sexy bastards; Shirley Manson - Scottish! Sean Connery - Scottish! Kelly MacDonald - Scottish! David Tennant - Scottish! Edith Bowman - Scottish! John Barrowman - Scottish! Katie Leung - Scottish! Shirley Henderson - Scottish! Ewan McGregor - Scottish! Isobel Black - Scottish! KT Tunstall - Scottish! Summer Glau - descended from Scottish and looks Asian! *melts into pathetic, quivering puddle of wistfulness*

Please note, I am in no way bothered by the number of men I listed. I'm not bi, though I'd probably end up that way if I lived there @_@

Current Mood: horny
Current Music: The Cars - "Just What I Needed"

Apparently, the Vatican disapproves of Avatar. Which means I suddenly approve of Avatar. Though I've still grown to dislike auteur theory, which is odd because in college it was one of the coolest things I thought there was.
I dislike it because of the ironic self-restricting of creativity that comes with it. There's some people, and they can do any film a studio throws at them. And then there are the big names, who their films. But that's the problem. They only do their films. Films which are instantly recognizable as theirs in style, content or, indeed, a lack of either. And they're stuck in that. They can no longer do anything. Even attempting "normality" is considered exceptional in itself when it's them doing it, like when David Lynch made The Straight Story.
I think you have to walk a fine line. Someone like Christopher Nolan, he's made various films before being given Batman, and yet he's not The Batman Guy, either. He can branch out and do other things, and his films don't suffer from being Not Batman. And then we have folks like Tarantino, whose films are all the same. Stupid ideas with stupid, juvenile plots. He's famous for them, which has made him incapable of NOT making a Tarantino film. If you hand someone like that a project that's outside of what they're used to, they can't adapt. They can't assimilate themselves to it, so instead they turn it into theirs. That's a failure of creativity.
So we have all these big names, famous for their creations, and ironically unable or unwilling to expand beyond those restraints. Every now and then, someone tries, with varying degrees of success. Dylan going electric, for the most famous example. Personally, I think people unwilling to take that chance are cowardly. Experimenting with what you can do you expanding your ability, even if the results are unpopular, are MUCH more important to an artist than worrying about how you're perceived. I mean, Jesus Christ, it's a freakin' no-brainer; do I make art or do I worry what people think?

James Cameron, the jury's still out. I love Terminator and Aliens. I haven't seen Avatar, but I'm not in any particular rush to. After all this hype, I'd hate to discover the rumors he's succumbed to George Lucas syndrome are true ("Who cares if my writing's shit? Look, if I pause the Blu-Ray here, you can actually count the eyelashes on that CG character! I'M THE GREATEST STORYTELLER IN THE WORLD!"). I think he did the Terminator fandom a massive disservice by not making Terminator 3, or better yet not stopping Terminator 3. Then again, if that hadn't sucked so bad, we might not have gotten The Sarah Connor Chronicles, but he refused to involve himself in that, either.
Incidentally, you have to give TSCC credit. For, if nothing else, managing to keep the Terminators scary. Oh, I know, they weren't exactly Daleks to begin with, but they never suffered the same problem as the Borg from Star Trek or the aforementioned Daleks (how "scary" can you really be when you get your asses kicked every single time you show up?). They kept the Terminators scary by having them decidedly NOT get their asses kicked every time they showed up. Characters don't defeat them, they escape them, and always remained in hiding. Character shields don't apply when dealing with them, and even the "good" one on your side can turn on you and prove an even greater threat than the ones that were always out to get you.
So yeah, much respect there.

Oh yes, one more thing. If you believe in God and you believe He causes earthquakes because of a political agenda, you are the biggest complete fucking IDIOT on a planet that's suffering no shortage of complete fucking idiots. What's more, you make the rest of us look bad. You are why athiests find us laughable. You make us all look as idiotic as you sound. I believe in God, but you know what else I believe in? Tectonic plates. Chance. Inevitability. Dumb. Fuckin'. Bad. Luck. These things shape and influence our world every day so much more than any abstract concept.
The human race are not idiots. We've come so far from the caves, it's dizzying. We've explored this world and the universe it sits in. We've extended our lifespan and found out where we come from. All these came from the gift of a brilliant, beautiful brain that can think, that can reason, that can marvel, that can be passionate and that can question. It does not exist to say it shouldn't be used.

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: U2 - "Miracle Drug"

The best I've felt all day was before it started. I had a dream where I had to chase a train, like one of those games that penalizes you for not being the Second Coming in terms of your ability to pull of miracles. You know the ones. Games that go "What? You can't catch a speeding train on a tricycle while being stabbed in the head? HA! YOU SUCK!", games like that. anyway, I had a dream I was supposed to chase a train through a tunnel, and kept getting mission failed screens. Yes, my dreams have game over screens.
Anyway, at some point I figured out I could go on, despite "failing" an impossible task. I carried on through the tunnel, into pitch black darkness. Got very worried about losing my way, or getting turned around. At some point, I encountered a guard. What he was doing guarding a dark tunnel with the occupational hazard of getting squished by a train, I shall leave to the logic of dreams. So, I Metal Gear Solided my way past him, via strategic implementation of a swift blow to the back of the head. Now, I made to keep moving down the tunnel, but I couldn't just leave that guy where he could get his head taken off, so I carried him on my back in the direction I was going. Yeah, he would have killed me if he could, but I believe you are who you are when you're alone with your conscience.
Maybe it was because I was reading about the airport level from Modern Warfare 2 shortly before bed. Many who played that level didn't even think twice about firing on the crowd, it didn't even enter their heads not to. All they did was what they're used to doing when presented with a target. I tell ya, if Stanley Milgram were alive today, he'd love to study gamers. I'm sure he'd find the same depressing ratio between those who shoot without a thought and those who refused to pull the trigger as he did with his Obedience to Authority experiment. I know who I am, I know what I would and wouldn't do, and like I said, I believe you are who you are when you're alone with your conscience.
Anyway, I eventually reached the end of the tunnel. I left the guard outside, figuring he'd wake up with a headache, but at least he'd wake up with a head. I climbed some steps and marvelled at where I was; some nowhere in England, with blonde grass and factories and towers not far away. There was a lukewarm breeze, and a cloudy sky the same color as the grass. I felt so good that I'd made it this far on my own. Though I think my subconscious was laying it on a bit thick at this point. Going through a scary darkness, overcoming obstacles, trying to do the right thing and coming out the other side to a place you can be happy? Yep, laying it on thick, alright.

The devil take the rest of this fucking day, though. There was work in the garage, but my return to it did not make me feel as good as last time it did. Mostly because it involved a lot of me sitting around and waiting for ages to do something about as challenging as wiping my ass. And about a fifth as clean. I got oil down my arm three goddamn times. None of the above was helped by Da talking to me like I'd forgotten how to change a spark plug in a month.

I can't believe how ugly the world looks today, too. I am unsure of the mechanism by which melting snow leaves so much dirt behind, but leave plenty of it behind it does. A snow-covered world looks so beautiful, but melting snow just looks so awul. The white clumps just look like plastic bags. And the grey slush, well, that just compliments the grey sky and damp concrete. Everything just looks so dirty and grey.
But the worst of it was seeing the canal, full of scum and rubbish - and a dead dog floating in it. That upset me pretty bad. I think it's one of the worst things I've ever seen. How could someone, anyone, do that? How can a world let a loving animal end up that way. Why wasn't there anything I could have done? God dammit.

I will admit. It may have influenced my mood somewhat upon arriving home to find the house is once again a wall-to-wall mess because it's being used as a creche. And pampers and baby wipes on my bed. These I flung right the fuck out into the hall. They have no place here. They can go in Paul's room, but they don't belong in mine, since I for one am of the school of thought that a four-second orgasm isn't worth bringing someone into the world and fucking them up.

*sigh* So yeah. Attempted to shower all of that away. I'm striking today from the record. I always do everything better the second time, anyway. Let's try this again same time tomorrow, and try to get it right.

Dammit, why is it when I want to talk, you take it as I want to complain?
Consider the possibility that I'd like to be feeling better, please.

Current Mood: crappy
Current Music: Muse - "Exo-Politics"

Finished reading Santiago, and I'm inclined to think Joss Whedon may have at some point. There's familiar things within. The Democracy and the Alliance share similarities, an all-powerful government that's not an evil empire, but the result of human nature given enough time and power. How characters feel about the Democracy is similar, too. Cain is like Mal, a revolutionary who lost his war. Santiago himself is kind of like who Mal could be, if he wanted to keep fighting.
Speaking of Space Westerns, in the words of Marvin Gaye, I heard it through the grapevine that there will be a series of Firefly short stories coming soon. Canonicty uncertain, but good news regardless. As you can read, at least one of them is being written by Jane Espenson, writer of one of my personal favorites, "Shindig". Like I said, since Whedon himself isn't even mentioned, canonicity is uncertain. Then again, that could be taken as something of a blessing. We could read about Simon and Kaylee's wedding without having to worry that it's going to end with either of them getting killed, for example.

I'll get in line for my copy, no doubt about that. Still, feels like there should be more done. The problem with trying to relaunch the good ship Serenity is that the rights are owned by bean-counters (as my mother says, "the world is run by accountants") who only see a cancelled series and a domestic box office flop. Because international box office revenue is kinda like Nielsen ratings - if you're not American and/or you watched it anywhere else, you don't count.
So, the bean-counters look at this and they're not going to spend any more money than they plan to get back. This is why things like Harry Potter and Twilight get so much money spent of them and why anything relating to them is instantly greenlit, because the people who own them are guaranteed to make a profit, on account of ravenous fanbases the size of China. This is why Middle Earth got three billion-dollar movies, why Discworld is confined to Sky One at Xmas and why you're not going to see The Dark Tower being made into anything anytime soon. So, Firefly has to content itself with low-cost, low-risk, modest-profit ventures like comic books and novels for the forseeable future.
As I've said before, if it were me, I'd invest in an anime series. Animation is an expensive media, but it's still only a fraction of the cost of live action. The average cost of a single 24-minute episode is about 10 to 14 million yen. That's about $100,000 to €150,000, which is still ridiculously cheap compared to live action. On average, the cost of a single episode of an American TV show is a cool million. Bear in mind, Sci-Fi usually costs more. Of course, something live action and animation have in common is the more you're willing to spend on it, the better it looks. For one or two million dollars, you could get a pretty spectacular-looking 22-episode series. Getting the actors back into a recording studio is a lot easier than getting them back on a set. Plus, have the cast of Firefly already have VA experience anyway.
I'd go to a studio like Production IG or Madhouse. They both do high-quality work, and they're both pretty mercenary. And Japanese animation studios commissioned by Western franchises isn't as rare as it used to be. Western animation has been in sharp decline since the rise of the CGI movie, anyway. There's the added bonus that Japanese censorship laws aren't as strict as American ones. You can still show guns in animated shows in Japan, Elmer Fudd will be happy to hear. Furthermore, you can animate things that are difficult to film. Joss could exercise complete creative control. Everything from taking the sound effects out of space again to proper episode continuity.

Half of these things I know about this business, I didn't actually learn from college. It's all from reading about the making of films and studios, listening to commentaries, reading articles and comparing the practicalities of this business with the unrealistic expectations rife within fandoms. Success seems to be like archery - hitting a precise target from a distance while adjusting and compensating for various factors. You have to strike the balance between what you envision, what the accountants will let you do, what's technically feasible, what an actor will do and what's entertaining.
These things aren't all that difficult to learn, even for folk on the outside of the industry like myself. Neil Gaiman has an awareness of these things. Douglas Adams did, too. In fact, Douglas Adams deliberately made changes to HHGTTG to make it more filmable and appealing to a cinematic audience, and laughably his own changes were blamed on the studio. Joss Whedon is an example of someone who grew up within the industry, and still learned these things the hard way.

I think I could do good things, given half a chance. I have ideas, and I know it's not my ego talking when I say they're good. I know instinctually what the recipe is for doing something entertaining in a realistic execution.
I think if I did manage to get a foot in the door, I would not end up a household name. Don't particularly want to be. I think I'd end up one of those folk mistaken for a household name, like Henry Selick (he's the guy Tim Burton keeps getting credit for being). Or Josh Friedman, the genius behind The Sarah Connor Chronicles, who claimed the most awkward conversation he ever had was when someone complimented him on what a great show Buffy was.
But I think it's probably better if your creation is more famous than you are. It's better if you can have something you can put out there on it's own, and it doesn't need you to prop it up. You and your creation do not have to be a double-act. There are people out there, and they don't want to have created a fandom, they want to be a fandom. And there are a lot more folk who already are fandoms who'd rather not be.
Of course, like anyone I want people to care what I think. So do you. But if you can be successful without becoming famous, you'll find it much, MUCH easier to find yourself an honest opinion. I could be innovative, but stealthy. I've been sitting here, listening to friends and fellow fans, and I've been taking notes. I've been scouring TV Tropes and the like. I've seen what's been done right, what mistakes have been made (and are still being made!) and I've learned how to say "I can do better than that!" and mean it.
What can I do? I can combine all of these things that people want to see, with a realistic understanding of just how they can be made possible. But nobody gives you a job because you've got good ideas and instincts. I need to find a way in.

Current Mood: creative
Current Music: Genesis - "Mama"

Good news! Swine Flu's not going to wipe us all out after all! Nope, pack up your things, Bacon Fever, your 15 minutes of fame are over. Now it's the cold that's going to kill us all. Yes, the cold snap is the apocalypse du jour, apparently.

You know, I think that's what the opening chorus of "Breathe" is all about, where the salesman introduces himself with telling you if you want to stay alive any longer, there's three things you need to ~~buy~~ know. I take this to be the media. The song is about staying optimistic in a cynical world, and there's few entities more cynical than the media. Cynical of human nature, cynical of the future and cynical of the folks watching at home.
It's no wonder younger folk just aren't reading or watching it anymore. We get it over the internet, through blogs, journals and tweets. While the media then lament "Oh no, the young people just aren't watching! They're out of touch, they're going to inherit the planet and they don't care what happens to it! They're going to crash it into a tree! We're all doomed!"
No, you're just a annoying, miserable, depressing, biased fuck, mate.

I'm relatively certain we're not all going to die, once again. Even if (gasp) the grit supply runs out. I'll be honest, I'm actually enjoying this. I've lived here all my life, and I'm never seen snow like this. I've never snow that could actually withstand a footstep. Seriously, that's the snow I remember. It'd fall overnight, you walk through it on the way to school, one footprint would expose the concrete or grass underneath. Then you'd hope it would last until after school was over, but of course it was always melted away to slush by the time you got out.
This snow is different. Or rather, I suspect it's normal, for places that habitually get it. It's got layers. Step on it, there's snow under it, everything stays as white as it looked before! Isn't that wonderful? It's also quite powdery, too. You can kick up a lovely spray of it. The stuff I remember was just damp sods.
What can I say? It's a wedding cake world out there. I've been out in it all day, enjoying the sights. (Enjoying the privacy, too.) I thought I missed it when I woke up at noon and saw a bright blue sky, thinking "That's the end of it, the sun's come out." but no, it actually withstood the sun's gaze. I'm pretty sure that's the coldest I've ever felt in my life, and I didn't mind. Of course, that's easy for me to say with my Robin Williams body hair, four layers of clothing on my skin and at least one layer of fat under it. Really felt it in my fingers, though. Would almost have written my name in the yellow snow, only I make it a point never to touch my Captain James T. Cock with anything that cold. Which is why I never went out with Pam. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'm quite impressed with this snow, I don't feel like it's part of our weather, I feel like it's happening in spite of our weather. Lovely white, across a land that prefers constant damp, dull greyness. I'm kinda glad it didn't happen at Xmas, too. I like that it's just its own thing, and not holiday decorations.
...I kinda wish it would stay like this. (Hey, it could happen. Especially if Hollywood or a bunch of proven liars from the University of East Anglia are anything to go by) Or that I was living somewhere that was like this for longer, at least. Oh, but that's to come later. I'm at a stage now where dreams are mutating into plans. There's a good feeling when the hypothetical becomes physical. I think it's kinda like editing, but with real life. Like when I have a video in my head, and then I turn it into something you can watch. I can do that with my life, too. I can take something I've thought about and turn it into something I can do. Though I haven't really talked about any of it with anyone besides

shoopuf yet.

And while I was out in the snow, I spent Xmas vouchers. I got American Gods, The Fall and Cowboy Angels. Also, Dragon Age, which I'm liking so far. Reminds me of Oblivion, but then it would. Liking it well enough so far. Playing as a female City Elf, because playing as a human male gives you no choice but to play as Nobility, and Fuck. That.
Besides, I like playing as Madurai. She's my female Jack Bauer. Funnily enough, when I play characters other than her, I play them to suit me, as in making them stealthy sneaking bastards. When I play Madurai, I play the character to suit her. She's generally a Warrior type. Actually, she's a soldier, but she's not an Amazon. I haven't seen many female warriors in fantasy that weren't depicted as Amazons. I like the idea of a female warrior in fantasy who's as much of a rounded person as any female soldier on the front lines in Iraq and Afghanistan. And yes, women are on the front lines in Iraq and Afghanistan, and they deserve so much better from you than to think of Lynndie England when you hear of them.
Whenever I make Madurai in character-creation, I try to make her look Asian (because I'm allowed to) though in this case I think I accidentally made her look like Kate Beckinsale. In my head, she looks more like Maggie Cheung. She's usually half-Elf, but that wasn't an option here. Like I said, she's a female Jack Bauer. She has to do bad things, which is at odds with her humanity. She's a patriot, in the sense that she's loyal to the country, not the assholes in charge of it. With the added factor that she's also an immigrant - she fights for her adopted land because it looked past her skin color and pointed ears long enough to give her opportunities other nations wouldn't.
This is all accumulated, by the way. The more I play her, the more I learn about her. And then hopefully one day I'll find a book for her, and you can meet her, too. I came up with her, not to create my ideal woman (she has traits that are totally NOT my ideal), but because there are three demons I'd like to help slay.
1 - There are no hardly any good roles for women. (Sigourney Weaver and the Whedon sorority get them all.)
2 - There are no good roles for minorities, especially leading ones. (Unless you're Will Smith. In the highly likely possibility that you are actually NOT Will Smith, then I guarantee you'll be playing second banana to Whitey.)
3 - There are no good roles for women and minorities, especially in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy ghetto, which still suffers heavily from tokenism. Someone raised a good point about Avatar recently, the whole Dances With Wolves/Last Samurai thing - it could have been avoided entirely if they'd made the lead character Black or Asian, instead of white. It wouldn't have been about a white guy going native anymore, just about a guy going native. I think having an ethnic lead shows progress, both within Hollywood and universe of the movie. Doesn't it say so much more if instead of a straight, white male representing humanity, anyone can?

I'm still just getting started. Give me time.

Current Mood: hopeful
Current Music: U2 - "Unknown Caller"

My leg feels odd. Not hurt, no. It actually feels like there's a piece missing from it. Like someone took an ice-cream scoop to it and lifted out a snooker-ball sized hunk of my leg. Like I said, not painful, just odd.

Speaking of ice cream, my mother commented that all this snow is like 1982 all over again. Not so much the depth (it'd have to be up to my knees for that) so much as how people are unprepared for it. On radio stations and whatever, they're calling places like Norway and Canada and pointing out how well they're coping with the snow. Well, because they're used to it, duh.
Rumor is we don't even have a single snow plow in the entire country. There wasn't one in 1982, either. The only one was up in Northern Ireland, and they know better than to loan stuff to neighbors like us. Oh, and weather chains for tyres? Forget about it, they're actually illegal, apparently. You gotta love that, not only are we unprepared, we're not even legally allowed to be prepared. That's so wonderfully Irish =p
So yeah, apparently it's 1982, right down to my Da struggling to get home in a Mini (perfect handling, you see). I don't know if I'm reading too much into things (I have my John Locke moments of being all too willing to mistake coincidence for fate). Everywhere I look, I see signs I should move on with my life (or do I just want to see signs I should move on with my life?). That episode of Flashforward, that spooky random playlist, my younger brother's talk of moving, the mounting annoyances of living with my family, and now this talk of 1982 all over again makes me wonder if it's not some odd kind of bookending to my life here.

But I read far too much into things =p Was playing some FF7 earlier and realized I was getting the exact same creepy vibe off the Forgotten City as I was off Miranda in Serenity. I guess it's because they're both unusually bright places, where you expect a place steeped in death to be dark and foreboding, not bright and still. Plus, the atmosphere in the air that screams Bad Shit Happened Here.
...Doesn't help that Aeris, like River, hears voices of dead people. Not hard to picture her having a freak-out on the way in about it, either. "They're everywhere. Every city, every... every house, every room; they're all inside me! I can hear them all and they're saying nothing!"
Followed by Cid; "She is starting to damage my @#%&ing CALM!"

Which reminds me, I'm pretty damn sure whoever's writing Sonic these days is not just a Browncoat, but heavily influenced by Whedon in terms of writing style. The dialogue's gotten snappier, to the point that the funny bits are actually funny. Personalitywise, Sonic's kinda like a fusion of Wash and Mal. The characters in general have all mercifully cut down on angst, now that the writers have Shadow to channel all that emo bollocks directly into. They're not even afraid of lampshading it, either.
Incidentally, I disown angst. Of all the possible emotional responses to a problem, it's the least interesting, least productive and least interesting. It doesn't help that everyone is exactly the same when they do. It's an emotion that doesn't allow for a lot of terms in how a personality expresses it, like with joy, anger or sadness. It's all the damn same. Show me one character angsting differently from another, and I'll show you amazement. Made all the worse when I saw the other day people actually classing "Angst" as a genre. Like Romance or Horror.
Incidentally, this is not me turning my back on depression. Take it from me, fighting depression is a cause I will always do my best to support. And I make a very important distinction between angst and depression. Angst is static, unchanging - something bad happens, you angst about it, nothing changes. Depression is a life-threatening struggle, you go in one end of it and have to fight your way through to the other side without falling victim to the many traps.

What else? Oh yes, The Return Of Santiago arrived in the post. The sequel to the book I haven't finished reading, and it's in good ol' hardback. I got it, by the way, for the princely sum of $0.01, not including postage. ...Why on Earth does getting something for a cent feel better than getting something for free? 0_o

Okay, I've put this off long enough. Dr Who.
( Thoughts on The End Of Time )

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: Kyosuke Himuro - "Don't Say Goodbye"

One day, I'm going to include that line in something, and there will be much squeeing across fandom.

Not much to say, really. Meet the new year, same as the old year. I've got ways I can go about fixing that, which is a lot on my mind. A lot I need to get off my mind, but everyone I want to talk to continues to be rare after the holidays.
If I could travel back in time and tell my past self that he won't get out of here until 2010 at least, I'm sure he'd commit suicide right there, and I'd have caused a time paradox. I mean, seriously, doesn't 2010 sound like such a sci-fi year? And not just because they made a movie of it. I suppose it's because of almost all the sci-fi movies and shows made in the last century, very few of them took place in the first decade of this one.
...Of course, if I could travel through time, I'd have a lot better things to witness than my past self being emo. Assassin's Creed 2 made me start crushing on Caterina Sforza. Yes, I'm crushing on an historical figure. But bloody hell, the woman was nicknamed "The Tiger" and led an army into battle, on horseback, while seven months gorram pregnant. Throw in the fact that she was a widow, it was enough to make me exclaim "Jesus Christ, she's the 15th century Sarah Connor!" - all that was missing was the army of soulless conquerers bent on destruction and the suffering of mankind. Oh wait, the Vatican.

I realized something the other day, a lot of the changes I'm going through aren't reflected very well in my tone of voice. I'm not sure how to go about changing that, but I'm going to try. I look back on some things I've said, and can see where they'd look like whining or bitching or, God forbid, angst, if that's what you expect to read them as.
Seems I have my own stereotype to fight. I'm actually trying very hard to get to a place without negative emotion, or at least no negative emotion I can't make work for me. I mean, the opportunity to angst is also to opportunity to become decisive, which makes much more sense as a choice. And anger can be a boost, if you channel it into determinism instead of self-recrimination.
I guess what I'm trying to say is the words I'm using may look similar, but there's a lot more going on behind them, inside of me, that's more positive than you're used to seeing from me. If you're used to picturing me angsting and whining, try to picture me in good humor and spirits, because it's much more likely that's what I'm actually feeling. It's just not coming across so well, and you're all so used to me the other way.
Like I said, I'm trying my best on all fronts here. I've got a lot more inside me than four walls, a facial expression or words on a screen can contain. I think I'm growing into a person who can leave the trademarks of (most of) his rotten years behind. I think what I'm trying to say is I Am Not Bitter. Or Spock. Or Fluffy. Or Jerkass.

Current Mood: optimistic
Current Music: The Police - "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic"

Current Mood: creative

Not actually going to make a post full of memes or resolutions, because I'd already made up my mind what I want out of 2010 in the last several weeks. More of a new start than anything else, really.

The passing of time is so weird and, of course, subjective. You ever notice a song seems faster when you're listening to it lying in bed at night than when you listen to it while doing something else?
The problem with trying to be retrospective on the whole damn decade is you naturally tend to think more of the last two or three years. The second half, at least. Though the last two or three have been the best. Some of it all seems jumbled up and distorted. 9/11 was at the start, but it feels closer than other events. For instance, it seems ridiculous that Ellie was born a few years after it happened. Then again, I do tend to think of time a bit differently. I'm not so sure it's as linear as it looks. I think time looks linear like the Earth looks flat. Space is curved and a whole in space can warp time by making it more dense, so it can't be like a straight arrow. We see it as linear, you know, breakfast, lunch and dinner, when really it's more of a buffet table. I think all of time is actually happening at once. It just looks like it's not because we're living in it. And that we can't see different parts of time for the same reason that a man standing in London can't see Australia.
The people living in other times, they're not dead. They look dead, from our point of view, because we're standing in a different point in time, just like we look dead to folk in the future. But as far as people in the past or future are concerned, it's the present. I catch myself in moments, sometimes. Staring at a wall or looking out a window, holding my hand out in front of me and thinking that it seems odd that this tiny little microscopic moment is just the latest tick in the clock of the universe, and shouldn't I be doing something else? Because the thought that this is forefront of time and space just seems... unlikely. What's the point of my brain even noticing stuff like this anyway?

Pardon me while I have a Grosse Point Blank moment. Ten years! TEN! TEEEEENNNN YEE-URHS! Ten years! ...I can remember Y2K and the ball dropping and all that new millennium jazz, but I don't remember me, in my own head, I can't connect to who I was back then. 'Course, that kind of mind would be hostile territory anyway.
Wonder how different I'll be in another ten.

Oh, and pardon my momentary outburst of philosophy back there. I've been reading all sorts of what Descartes and Kant and the rest of Bruce's song would have made of Terminator. There's disappointingly few mentions of Cameron, but I suppose they can leave that to me. I'm not sure there's all that much love for Cameron in the fandom. Well, there is and there isn't. There's not much love for the character as is, I think there's a lot of projection going on, and there's love for the character fans want her to be. There's either a lot of bad writers about, or she's just a hard character to write, because there's far too much humanizing going on. They sorta turn into the bionic River Tam, when Cameron is really the Anti-River. For example, they make her smile when pleased. She doesn't smile when she wants to, she smiles because she knows doing so is supposed to put a human at ease. Whenever she actually does smile at someone, nobody has ever smiled back at her, usually because they're scared or confused or wary of her.
And she has absolutely no tact whatsoever. Where River would blurt out non-sequiturs or prophecies nobody could make sense of, Cameron says things without an understanding of the emotional weight behind what she's saying. She'll tell someone they have cancer, that they've had a miscarriage, that someone doesn't love them or that their mother is dying, and she'll just say it.
I've been paying a lot of attention to the way characters speak. You'll notice a lot of actors do, too. For instance, a bodyswap episode of just about anything. Speech patterns are rarely something you actively notice, unless someone has something like a lisp or a stutter or a strong accent. At first you think "Oh, everybody talks the same way", but then you look at a bodyswap episode, where you're used to an actor playing the same character now playing something different, and you notice how much is different. The way they carry themselves physically, the gestures they make, but also the words they use. I suppose it's like a lot of jobs, if you do it right, people won't notice you've done anything.
But yeah, the characters all have their own ways of talking. Cameron, like I said, has no tact. Derek has more in common with her than he'd be comfortable believing, and one of those things is how the speak, but him there's with the added human component of cynicism. Sarah is much more human, but what she says tends to be more affected by whatever she's feeling at the moment, instead of an ongoing personal philosophy. Which makes sense, considering she's living from moment to moment. John is, of course, the most human character, and as such runs the full gamut of expression. Keen eyes will notice that over the course of the series, John goes through every emotional experience in the book. This comes out in the way he talks - he talks a lot older than he actually is, and he doesn't have his mother's reservedness.
It should be noted that Cameron changes her speech patterns depending on who she's talking to. She's at her most human when she's around John. When talking to Derek, she speaks in short, passive-aggressive sentences like he does. Around Sarah, she's in-between, talking like one soldier talking to another, and whenever Sarah has an emotional outburst, Cameron mirrors Sarah's other moments of cold logic and pragmatism.

Saw this yesterday. Looks interesting, though for all I understand the characters, I don't think I'd like to RP them. I've got enough on my plate, and writing's a bit like a one-man RP, anyway. If I was going to, I think Sarah, funnily enough, would actually be the easiest character to RP. I have RP'd women before, by the way. There's a character I keep for just that purpose. Someday I want to write the female Jack Bauer and RPing her is sorta practice for that.

Not much else left to say except...
GET YOUR "I SURVIVED THE 2009 CELEBRITY BLOODBATH!" T-SHIRTS HERE!

Current Mood: awake
Current Music: Muse - "Feeling Good"

Profile

Dar

February 2010

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
	1	2	3	4	5	6
7	8	9	10	11	12	13
14	15	16	17	18	19	20
21	22	23	24	25	26	27
28

Syndicate

Page Summary

"And you're learning that just 'cause they call themselves friends doesnt mean they'll call."
Stalin smiles and Hitler laughs, Churchill claps Mao Zedong on the back
For those of you just joining us...
"Asleep at the switch!? I wasn't asleep, I was drunk!"
x marks the box in the hole in your head that you dug for yourself now lie in it
Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la-doo-tze!
Come out of the garden, baby, you'll catch your death in the fog
I think I make the longest posts out of anyone I know, but in fairness my cat isn't mentioned once.
But if it wasn't for your misfortunes, I'd be a heavenly person today
Leave you here, wearing your wounds, waving your guns at somebody new
Let go your heart, let go your head and feel it now
You always knew to wear it well, and you look so fancy I can tell
Of science and the human heart, there is no limit
How can I tell you I miss you if you won't GO AWAY?
It's my estimation that every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of sommbitch or another
Every night I have the same dream, I'm hatching some plot, scheming some scheme
"Now let's go murder our enemies. Peace."
"SIT DOWN AND DRINK YOUR GODDAMNED TEA!!"
Oh, and one more thing.
Like a waiter hating the rich, but taking their tips

Active Entries

Layout Credit

Layout:: 900degrees
Resources:: Top of the Pops

Page generated Feb. 9th, 2010 08:34 pm

Junk Data

¬¬¬recessive net terminal genes///

Recent Entries

"And you're learning that just 'cause they call themselves friends doesnt mean they'll call."

Stalin smiles and Hitler laughs, Churchill claps Mao Zedong on the back

For those of you just joining us...

"Asleep at the switch!? I wasn't asleep, I was drunk!"

x marks the box in the hole in your head that you dug for yourself now lie in it

Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la-doo-tze!

Come out of the garden, baby, you'll catch your death in the fog

I think I make the longest posts out of anyone I know, but in fairness my cat isn't mentioned once.

But if it wasn't for your misfortunes, I'd be a heavenly person today

Leave you here, wearing your wounds, waving your guns at somebody new

Let go your heart, let go your head and feel it now

You always knew to wear it well, and you look so fancy I can tell

Of science and the human heart, there is no limit

How can I tell you I miss you if you won't GO AWAY?

It's my estimation that every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of sommbitch or another

Every night I have the same dream, I'm hatching some plot, scheming some scheme

"Now let's go murder our enemies. Peace."

"SIT DOWN AND DRINK YOUR GODDAMNED TEA!!"

Oh, and one more thing.

Like a waiter hating the rich, but taking their tips