Dr. Deadline

It is deadline time, the libraries are full, energy drink shares are through the roof and as you walk around campus, students red-eyed and emanating the essence-du-café stumble and bump into one another like ants blinded by the weight of words after words scrolling across their eyes. The outline of a blank page haunts them at night as the pitter patter of rain becomes fingers on keys, the pace racing as four o'clock approaches. 

'How many words you got?'

'Lets go for a drink once this is all handed in. God I need a drink.'

'Did you hear that so-and-so hasn't even started (thank god I'm not the worst off).' 

It is the night before the assignment is due, 11.55pm, some students will have been finished for days, others may be completing their final check and others will be just starting. Often I will be sitting staring blankly at the computer, my mind questioning how many coffees and energy drinks I've had, wondering whether one more wouldn't hurt before deciding tea is better; jittery fingers don't type as well. 

I am past the blank page syndrome, usually by writing nonsense for half an hour that I will edit out later, it got rid off that terrifying and consuming blankness though. I am past the point of feeling good about the essay knowing that being on the right track is what matters. I've lost and regained my focus, for a moment I doubted I was answering the question but I'm over that; I can always adapt the question to the essay later. I am at the stage of not really caring that much but feigning confidence and wishing I had given myself more time - 'Never again, next time I will give myself loads of extra time and I'll write a perfect essay. I could be getting a first if I put as much effort into this as I put into anything else I do.' 

My thoughts echo across campus, picking up strength as others quote the age-old mantra 'Next time… plan ahead… focus… switch off the internet… how do I spell…' building and building, gaining strength, swirling above the city, the country.

The maelstrom of thoughts chase each other up into the air, reaching the brown brogues of a small figure, the corduroys lead on to a hunched and cardigan adorned torso, a grey beard changes shape as the face of the Professor cracks into a smile, 

'Till next year my pretty's...'

Party Pictures

I've discovered that I should not take pictures at parties, or at least not after four cans of cheap Polish party-fodder, two bottles of something else beer-like and apple Sourz, and maybe a long-vodka. I don't remember.

Either way, last saturday was no exception and I've discovered that my pictures fall into three categories.

1. The Blur

While it can be intriguing trying to figure out what is there, there is no real enjoyment in perusing these, or documentary value in their portrayal of the night...

It was a Christmas Party. In March. I knew that already. What are those odd colours near the bottom? Is that an ear? I know it was a silly night but how bad was it at this early time?

Although to be honest, using 35mm film still makes most blurry shots look pretty good, which is why I have some serious issues deciding whether to keep them or not. I feel like they hold on to some character of the night out, at least on film they do and if I delete them my inner hoarder might start crying.



2. The Multi-Shot

I bought my Panasonic Lumix DMC-TZ7 for a few reasons. It's better than a point-and-shoot but not as complex or perhaps daunting (to a complete photo newbie at least) as an SLR, it also helped that I had been using my friends TZ6 (or something) for the previous six months travelling, it was fantastically easy and you got good results. Not to mention the wide-angle lens and the 'Starry Sky' setting that allowed you to take long-exposure images for up to a minute!

Drinking looks so much cooler!

Devil Horns are still cool right?

Before you think this is just an advert for Panasonic there is a point to this rambling camera-love

I loved the possibility of shooting multiple shots in fairly rapid succession and 1.8 frames per second won me over. 

Let me set the scene a little:

I wake up. Bedfellows of empty take-out boxes match my goatee of processed cheese. Stumbling, my still-drunk legs carry me to sustenance and as the bacon fat effervesces off the hot grill I slide the SD card into my laptop. Click the icon.

WHAM!

I'm smacked in the face with the full force of a night that makes those Matrix fellows look trigger-sad. Although much like every evil henchman ever made by ACME Industries, I never hit anything.

To say I take a lot of pointless photos under the influence is an understatement. Capturing the perfect moment of everyone doing the Macarena. Okay I know that in itself is an oxymoron but nonetheless that is what I was doing on Saturday. And now I have endless photos that look like this:

Whoa! This madness is so exciting I must take a hundred photos!

Seriously, I would show you more but they are honestly all the same and I think it might be considered abuse if I were to show you a gif...

What I intended to do now was take the piss out of the pointlessness of my photo-taking. Unfortunately I have failed miserably because I found this hilarious, and it actually kinda captures the madness. Oh well, lets return to my original thought-train...

I also know that I have an immense amount of unsorted photos in a similar vein that I promised to go through later, and never have. As you can imagine, this is very annoying for someone who likes to have their folders and photos in order, organised by location and date. Go on, relish in my discomfort.

Yet worry for my insomnia as I search out all of the other instances of said photos and turn them into hilariously personal gifs. Please, make sure I leave the house this week.

3. The 'Artistic'

These images often stem from my natural curiosity in taking pictures from weird angles. I didn't know I enjoyed photography until I saw the photos that came out really well, of course there was always the excitement of getting films developed but this was different because I'd seen the picture I was looking for and finding it prettily reconfigured on the gorgeous pixels of some 90's spec computer just made me excited and desperate to take more. Unfortunately this continued when I started drinking.

But back to the weird angles, when your drunk you think they look amazing, the most beautifully artistic collection of shapes, shadows, straight and curved lines, all coming together to form a stylistic comment on nights out, friendship and spontaneity.

In reality it's just rubbish.
Like this...

'See? You're all reflected and reflective and stuff!'

But then sometimes you get lucky. My first SLR cost only £20, was a Nikon F60, and got me called a hipster, but boy did have I had fun with it.

I grabbed it ecstatically as we left the comfort of a borrowed apartment and went in search for the fireworks. The New Year Fireworks. In the mountains. You can see why I was ecstatic. I took a photo or two, and then the shutter jammed. I was a little disappointed because then I had no way of taking further awesome photos, I just kept winding and snapping without response.

The wait was horrendous, I had several films from my Christmas travels but I was too busy to get them developed. And when they came out I wholly expected to find so many terrible ones. And I did, that's part of the reason why I'm writing this right now. But, I did discover some gems, like this one... 

A completely accidental multiple exposure that did indeed capture all the excitement and entertainment of a great night and great friends.

Oh, and make that four different types of photo I end up with.

4. The ones where you weren't behind the viewfinder.

I claim no responsibility for many, many pictures of pandas on my camera. But I will try to make it funny given the opportunity...

I swear it was only out of my hands for a short while. I guess she gets the closing note. She's coming to eat you...

Project Life - Day: 8490

Employment - 5.5 Hours

Serving. Cleaning. Carving. Sweating. Perfecting my impression of being rushed of my feet, while actually being rushed off my feet. Getting Burnt, a little. Minutes resting? None.

Home - 1 Hour

Tea, maybe three cups. Water, lots, was insanely thirsty. Watching a small French man create dishes I can't. Tuna, salad, sandwich.

Attending Lecture - 1 Hour

Arse-trumpets and the very real Mediaeval merit of Monty Python.

Library - 1.5 Hours and counting

Very satisfying ninety-five minutes, 1006 word continuation of the magnificent Monty, and more about Schroedinger. What is wrong with me? Am I somehow related, or possessed?   

So far I feel very satisfied. Good hard work. Hey, 10.58 words a minute of quality subject contemplation. I can go home right? 

Tick Tick... Boom!

Someone posted this on VisageNovel, or Facebook as the young ones call it. Go on, play it while I describe my thoughts, it will help.

'Truly great flat-pack fun.'

In traditional Hives fashion it's what I call Million-Mile-an-Hour-Rock... although technically, this is faster, I'm just not used to the intensity of it now that I've stopped growing my hair down to my shoulders and discussing the finer points of jazz-infused-Energizer-bunny-was-given-a-guitar, metal. At least not that often. Sober.

Which reminds me, did I ever show you that picture? Yes I must have done, now go and read all my other posts just to find it. Thanks.

And back to my initial point of starting this, the Hives, and this song in particular makes me think of this scene.

'I could sell the morning pill to the Pope.'

But at first I couldn't figure out what the scene was and I imagined it set in a shopping centre, with teenagers or some other chaotic personality, running from authority. And that led to a mad hour or so of scouring YouTube, watching mad videos like this:

'Holy Shit. Someone spelt boobies with the spices.'

Now play the original song with that.

Great huh? Or even this.

'Why are you just laughing?! We need serious help?!'

I suppose there is probably a point where I should probably stop and apologise for a post that appears to rely entirely on videos you have probably all seen before. Well, I'm sorry. But, and this is a big 'but'...

Stop that, I didn't say anybody could break into song, but I'll help nonetheless.

'She just, looks so righteous!'

Wait! What? I can't believe one simple Google-suggest brought me to that. I have struck comedy gold! How much different would this post be if I remembered what that song was called instead of blindly typing the lyrics into my browser? (Ed. It would make more sense for one, and maybe even follow a single train of though.')

But, what I meant to bring up was the fact that I was convinced the Hives song, feel free to scroll back up to remind yourself, related to a film I'd seen. That is, I thought there was a scene of some kid running through a shop, pursued in typical comic style by a Rent-a-Cop, as souvenirs and nick-nacks went flying everywhere. A perfect visual representation of the frantic and excitable mindset this music puts me in.

It is also representative of just how addictive I often find YouTube, or any similar site providing suggested links according to my previous, and often ill-advised, viewing. Just like if a supermarket started suggesting Sambuca after you bought cheap Tequila on a drunken whim last week... madness.

The more I think about it, this personalised advertising either hits the mark or makes you realise the depths you've sunk to in order to laugh/drink/gorge/entertain yourself into a stupor. Positive thinking.

But to make a finer point, this is just one reason why I love music, all of the impetus for this post was conjured by one simple video, and now I've spent endless minutes reigniting my love for Liquid Tension Experiment and Melodic Metal (thanks Angra).

I used to be a music snob and make fun of everyone who listened to music I didn't like, and I was wrong for doing it, granted I was 14 and believed it had some sort of importance, but that's still no excuse for screaming at kids on the bus for listening to the wrong music, again.

It has become apparent to me that music is good because I like it, and that's all I care about. If it gets me thinking, throwing horrendous shapes, dancing in my chair, contemplating, writing, or just puts me in a mood, then it's worth listening to.

Oh, and share that music. I never hear enough. Except on the bus, but that's another story.

Enjoy yourselves tonight. It's gonna be a good one.

Loose Women, The Internet, Pastry... and Boobs!

I was watching Loose Women the other morning... Wait! Don't go!
Let me explain, I live with four women and when I got in from a lecture they were desperately trying to procrastinate with the help of cackling middle-aged women, and failing.

So as I made myself some lunch I overheard the statement - 'I just can't relax when I know my child is two clicks away from indecent material!' - This promptly threw me into a rant of a proportion that shocked my flat-mates out of their Facebook induced trance and into a world of indignant shock.

That's a load of rubbish, they looked at me with confusion; they hadn't been paying attention to the TV at all, it was there for background noise. Which reminds me, four laptops, four smartphones, and the television on! What is wrong with people?! But that is a rant for another time.

Back to the meat of my sandwich, the saucy interior of a point, wrapped delicately in the pastry of argument...

That is to say the matter of...

A Couple Clicks to Catastrophe - The Story of a Child and the Internet

The new blockbuster that brings War Games into the 21st Century, the terrible tale of a child losing his life to the dangers of the internet, finding satisfaction in clicking endlessly past pointless and silly blog posts...

OK, no more digression. I initially ridiculed the not-so-tight females simply because I didn't believe them. Lid up, lights on, my laptop burst into power and I set off! From Google I hit 'I'm Feeling Lucky' and... went straight to Google's Doodles, despite my best efforts I couldn't actually get Google to search anything without typing it in, odd that.

Then I went for my 'Most Visited' tabs, a useful feature Chrome includes in order to exponentially reduce productivity and further encourage dependance on procrastination; a government conspiracy to keep us docile and in our homes, killing braincells with every ridiculous blogged word. The screenplay for A Couple Clicks is gaining depth.

From the 'Most Visited' tab is was very easy, primarily because I had ignored videos, in my ignorant sense of supremacy I'd ignored YouTube. After all, everyone knows the Small World Phenomenon, even if it is through a phone network's advert (I'm looking at you, Kevin Bacon), and a certain portion of the internet has applied it to YouTube; if they introduced a 'I'm Feeling Lucky' button it would probably induce the apocalypse, but as it stands you have to do it yourself often resulting in a severe dismay for the future of humanity, or at least yourself. Anybody who has prayed at the altar of YouTube for deliverance from boredom has soon found themselves swimming in deep, confused waters of Tattooing Eyeballs!? What fresh hell is this?! And other such insanity.

However, when I started this post I was primarily focussed upon a child's innocence being destroyed by the internet and I return with magnificent vigour to this point. Of course the internet makes it easy to find unsavoury items but if I have kids, I fully expect them to understand technology far better than me. Even as someone who has grown up with computers I couldn't type a word of useful code whereas eleven year-olds can already scam other eleven year-olds out of their Runescape profiles. Granted he didn't cover his tracks very well, but his parents did give him an iPhone, at eleven! Apples falling, trees and all that.  In my day, a mobile hung over your cot!

Never mind, I'm not old enough or grumpy enough... yet.

I will be sorely disappointed if my child is flummoxed by BBC IPlayer asking if he is over 16, or the settings for internet security being a whole four clicks away, or even the Google solution for over-riding parental-guidance being a matter of keyboard taps away. Kids find out an awful lot on their own, after all it was an encyclopaedia we had in the house that gave me my first look at boobs and now we have this! (So very suitable for work... well, not really.)

The only risk is that they experience all these magnificent things too quickly and their head explodes. Maybe.

OK, perhaps this has all turned out a little more like a Motorway Stop massacre of a pastry but I had a good procrastinatory morning. And the point still stands, children are even more likely to find what's been hidden when they know more about the technology than we do. Don't be disappointed  you never expected this to be a serious discussion, did you? Oh, sorry.

Bread is Awesome! Some say it is solid Beer...

Toast! Aaa-aaaah! Saviour of the universe!

After many weeks and months of baking my own bread I succumbed to laziness and bought a loaf of 'Everyday Value' bread from Tesco, my mood cheering with the thoughts of quick and easy toast, melted butter and cold toast. This morning I cracked it open, obviously today is an 'every' day, nothing special, and I was dissapointed, this just isn't the same as what I was hoping for, oh well, it will be finished soon.

The rebranding of Tesco's value range has jogged something in my mind though. It's quite an interesting marketing move to limit your products away from the special occasions, are they telling me that I need to spend more money on my occasions because that thoroughly confuses me. If you are having a party, you want quantity in order to have enough for everyone, so you want cheap and cheerful, not their finest dinner party range.

Eight slices later, four in toast and butter form, four in tuna and watercress sandwich style, my craving may just be satiated… wait a minute, I have vegemite in the cupboard. Toaster prepare! 

I slide deftly across the floor, the bread arcing through the air and slotting succintly in the toaster, as the bread drops smartly into place my fingers take hold of the plunger and provide just enough force to drop the lever, too much and it would bounce back, too little and the ridiculously tempestuous toaster would refuse to heat my bread (we really need a new toaster, along with the kettle that boils half of its water away so that you need to fill the kettle for just one cup, I can hear the environmentally friendly sorts crying as I continue). A short hop and slide, my hand pulls open the fridge, my foot grasping the cupboard handle, my balance falters as my fingers fumble the buttery margarine (oh how I miss real butter) but in a moment of excellence I grasp both, the cupboard swings open, my elbow closes the fridge, I pivot on my toes and triumphantly waltz to the plate with vegemite and margarine in hand. Swipe, spread and slash my toast is prepared and I relax with my delightful snack.

Thoughtful Texts

This may at first appear to be an odd idea but if we review books and films, why not newspapers and magazines?

For almost a decade now I have found that the majority of my reading material, day to day and travel-wise is not the hard or soft bound variety of literature, low on images, and often high in intellect. It has instead been the world of glossy pages, technical jargon and eye-wateringly beautiful and envy-invoking images. The first jaunt the world of gaming; demo-discs and pixels, genre specific vocabulary, wish lists and virtual worlds. While still a hobby and an interest I moved on and the more recent subject matter revolve around physical sports, dirt, snow and skate, 'gnarly' documentations of 'sick' tricks, and yes I've spouted my fair share of 'valley-guy' terms to the detriment of my apparent brain-cells.

More recently my eye has been caught by the matte, the uniquely designed and the intellectually thought out. I have been lucky to come across some great publications by accident and in other cases great articles in the still-glossy renditions, intelligent thought provoking articles that encourage my own desire to increase the intelligence of the reading material that fills our newsstands and our hands. I'm sick of people buying the garishly coloured, predictable, fame-fuellers that unnecessarily idolise normal people (perhaps some justly).

This is not a negative piece though and I understand the inherent demand for simply-written material, we are all in need of a great story of plot and convenient understanding occasionally. 

My thoughts began with a cleverly written article discussing the changing world of photography in action sports, more specifically snowboarding and it led me to analyse it after it proved to avoid the pitfalls of typical 'old vs new' debates. The images where clearly in a balance with the words in terms of strength, importance and quality. A film magazine caught and held my attention with a brightly coloured, artistic cover and despite the price, I was sold. The following day my sister presented me with an equally well illustrated edition of Ride.

The article in Little White Lies discusses the horror genre and brings up the 'cult/non-mainstream' side of attraction or consequence and to a certain extent that increases the charm of these publications themselves, they aren't the common appearance and they don't scream everyday, they are something to be read slowly and fully understand.

Ok, so these are expensive reads, but the gorgeous detail, minimal bludgeoning advertising and high quality lends to their longevity, they are read in segments, often without specific order and they take on a role more akin to coffee table books than glossy mags, for one I'd be very disappointed to spill tea on these and I probably wouldn't be comfortable slicing them up to stare at from my bed, despite their gorgeous detail.

They may appear pretencious and 'hipster' or 'trendy' or just too cool for the new alternative but I'm sick of pidgeons and their holes. Lets continue with this high quality of easily accessible writing and penned thought. Hell, scantily clad ladies done in this format would be considered art if viewed on the train, bus or any other public situation, that's as good a reason as any to get behind this idea - the MetArt of the magazine world.