I feel like I am diagonally parked in a parallel universe.
Hello readers. What a relief it is, to be on the threshold of the weekend. This has proved to be a fatiguing week. Today in particular has been one of those days in which I felt completely listless, from the moment I was awoken by my sadistic alarm clock; the inevitable sum of the week’s self-inflicted excess. But the psychical weariness wasn’t the main issue; it was the shortened attention span and inability to think coherently that put a strain on my willpower; which was directed at keeping my thoughts in order so I could concentrate on work. My resolve had all but petered out come mid-afternoon when, bored to distraction; all manner of stray thoughts jumped into bed together and made a complete mess of my head, which I have no doubt led to me making a mess of the case I was working on. (I’ll be triple checking that first thing Monday morning).
Annoyingly the moment I got home and tried to put some of those thoughts down on paper, the little buggers suddenly became self-conscious and shy, and proceeded skulk off to the shadows, having yet to find the confidence re-emerge.
This brought a smile back to my face. It made me laugh so hard I cried, twice. Who doesn’t love Stewie Griffin?
If you read Procrastination - A real life Story, you’ll know I set myself a few goals last weekend but failed miserably in achieving them. The bell sounds for round two. I am determined to complete them all this weekend, as I am going to my parents the train journey will remove all of the usual distractions and allow me time to put my thoughts in order, ready to work with in the afternoon. I’m looking forward to having a full roast dinner. : ) That’s one thing I tend not to cook for myself.
Now for something completely different
I started this blog primarily as a means to get myself back in the habit of writing regularly, hoping to then apply it to the novellas and short stories I want so desperately to write. I had no real intention of exploring the blogosphere, but two months into my little experiment I find myself absorbed in it, by choice. Since stumbling upon a few networking sites for bloggers (20SB in particular), I have discovered so many interesting blogs that there days, my reader is looking pretty full.
A couple of my current favourites:
DailyObsessional – Updated multiple times a day, the latest entry (the time of writing) little people, big world is a pretty cool collection of photos.
Stephandcamera – Largely photo entries, she has a fantastic eye for a photo. If you are interested in photography I would definitely recommend you check out her album onf lickr.
There seems to be a running theme with photography here, I think I may begin to upload some of my own sometime soon. Though I am still smarting over a missed photo opportunity last night - As I was walking through the city in the evening, I looked up to noticed that the sky was clear and a really nice deep turquoise. The North Star was shinning brightly above the moon, which was merely a thin wavering crescent. It would have looked fantastic with the darkened cityscape just creeping to frame along the bottom. That will teach me for not having my camera at hand!
Friday, 27 February 2009
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Coffee and TV
Hello there readers. If I wore a hat I would tip it to you.
Well, this is certainly turning into a week of more late nights, frothy cappuccino’s, mid morning bagels, invites to open bars and fan boy like appreciation of my favourite TV shows than usual. So much so that at the time of writing this entry, the after effects of the weeks exertions have lulled me into an oddly comforting state of serenity. I am sat back, almost dozing, in a little bubble of tranquillity. Feeling warm, jovial and slightly fuzzy, despite the deliciously rich aroma of a fresh cup of coffee seductively caressing my sense of smell.
It all began with a hastily arranged get together with a few friends late Sunday afternoon, that stumbled into a lengthy session of drinking, hookah, guess who and a variety of other board games we managed to find. Monday saw my department treated to a free bar and meal at a venue close by the office, (coincidentally coinciding with some slightly unfortunate news that gave the impression we would be receiving little or no bonuses this year. Which is annoying, but given the current economic situation and how many jobs have been lost in our sector; I have no right to complain). This led to more drinks at more bars before the night was done.
Tuesday was hectic, and despite doing very little in the evening, other than the weekly food shop ritual and watching my football team (Arsenal) beat Roma, I somehow managed not to get to bed until gone midnight. Which made today painful. Especially the afternoon, during which I had to endure a long, dull corporate meeting with the rest of my department; such as we are obliged to endure every quarter - In a cold hall listening to the chief executive and the board attempt to be funny (and occasionally succeeding) and remind us how important each and every one of us are, before throwing around the current quarters pick of corporate buzzwords and delivering some new targets to pursue. The plus side was another open bar, at another venue after work today. FYI – I don’t mean to sound cynical. Put it down to fatigue, something I intend to correct the moment I have finished here.
In other news, Heroes has returned to us (UK), and has returned on top form. Sylar is still my favourite character, despite having had a relatively quiet start to the Fugitives Volume; (in my opinion Zachary Quinto is the best actor on the cast). But I am beginning to like Mohinder and Matt a lot more; their stories seem to be taking interesting routes right now. Unlike Hiro’s story - I’m hoping he will regain his powers soon, and that Peter will recover his, what’s going on with the new ability? Also, where is Monica? Her power was pretty awesome. I’ll say no more, so as to not completely spoil it for the UK fans that haven’t caught up with the Americans via the Internet.
Are there any Skins fans reading? - If so what do you make of the third series? I wasn’t sure at first, but I have really come around after the last few episodes. I don’t think it’ll ever be as good as the first two series, but the latest crop of characters are beginning to grow on me. I like the twins in particular, but not necessarily for the right reasons!
On the book front - I have now moved onto the third book in Stephen Kings Dark Tower series, The Wastelands. I don’t think I am going to upload any reviews for the second to seventh books in the series, doing so would likely spoil the plot for any potential fans. But know that I am still very much addicted to the story, which continues to grow in depth and brilliance with each chapter. I haven’t had much time to read these last few days, other than my lunch breaks; in which I am trying to read Nikolay Gogol’s Dead Souls. But progress there is slow. I’m not really enjoying it, but and determined to finish it – after al it is a classic, maybe I will appreciate after seeing it in its entirety.
The yawns are now escaping my lips in droves, and my eyelids are beginning to close of their own accord. I’ll take that as a cue to get some sleep.
Until next time
Well, this is certainly turning into a week of more late nights, frothy cappuccino’s, mid morning bagels, invites to open bars and fan boy like appreciation of my favourite TV shows than usual. So much so that at the time of writing this entry, the after effects of the weeks exertions have lulled me into an oddly comforting state of serenity. I am sat back, almost dozing, in a little bubble of tranquillity. Feeling warm, jovial and slightly fuzzy, despite the deliciously rich aroma of a fresh cup of coffee seductively caressing my sense of smell.
It all began with a hastily arranged get together with a few friends late Sunday afternoon, that stumbled into a lengthy session of drinking, hookah, guess who and a variety of other board games we managed to find. Monday saw my department treated to a free bar and meal at a venue close by the office, (coincidentally coinciding with some slightly unfortunate news that gave the impression we would be receiving little or no bonuses this year. Which is annoying, but given the current economic situation and how many jobs have been lost in our sector; I have no right to complain). This led to more drinks at more bars before the night was done.
Tuesday was hectic, and despite doing very little in the evening, other than the weekly food shop ritual and watching my football team (Arsenal) beat Roma, I somehow managed not to get to bed until gone midnight. Which made today painful. Especially the afternoon, during which I had to endure a long, dull corporate meeting with the rest of my department; such as we are obliged to endure every quarter - In a cold hall listening to the chief executive and the board attempt to be funny (and occasionally succeeding) and remind us how important each and every one of us are, before throwing around the current quarters pick of corporate buzzwords and delivering some new targets to pursue. The plus side was another open bar, at another venue after work today. FYI – I don’t mean to sound cynical. Put it down to fatigue, something I intend to correct the moment I have finished here.
In other news, Heroes has returned to us (UK), and has returned on top form. Sylar is still my favourite character, despite having had a relatively quiet start to the Fugitives Volume; (in my opinion Zachary Quinto is the best actor on the cast). But I am beginning to like Mohinder and Matt a lot more; their stories seem to be taking interesting routes right now. Unlike Hiro’s story - I’m hoping he will regain his powers soon, and that Peter will recover his, what’s going on with the new ability? Also, where is Monica? Her power was pretty awesome. I’ll say no more, so as to not completely spoil it for the UK fans that haven’t caught up with the Americans via the Internet.
Are there any Skins fans reading? - If so what do you make of the third series? I wasn’t sure at first, but I have really come around after the last few episodes. I don’t think it’ll ever be as good as the first two series, but the latest crop of characters are beginning to grow on me. I like the twins in particular, but not necessarily for the right reasons!
On the book front - I have now moved onto the third book in Stephen Kings Dark Tower series, The Wastelands. I don’t think I am going to upload any reviews for the second to seventh books in the series, doing so would likely spoil the plot for any potential fans. But know that I am still very much addicted to the story, which continues to grow in depth and brilliance with each chapter. I haven’t had much time to read these last few days, other than my lunch breaks; in which I am trying to read Nikolay Gogol’s Dead Souls. But progress there is slow. I’m not really enjoying it, but and determined to finish it – after al it is a classic, maybe I will appreciate after seeing it in its entirety.
The yawns are now escaping my lips in droves, and my eyelids are beginning to close of their own accord. I’ll take that as a cue to get some sleep.
Until next time
Monday, 23 February 2009
Procrastination - A real life story
A procrastinator’s work is never done.
Most writers, professional or amateur will always have one item close by – a notepad. Full of ideas, strings of dialogue, elements of projects past and current, newspaper or magazine clippings, research notes; you get the idea. This notepad is a pretty important piece of kit, and understandably the sort of person that carries said item would not like to see damaged or lost. I am one such person. This morning, as I arrived at the office, sat down at my desk and reached into my wet bag to get the bottle of water I had in there, did you notice how I said wet bag? The damned bottle had fallen on its side and leaked all over my stuff, including my notepad which got soaked through from the bottom to about halfway up. (I would post my reaction, but you might flag this blog as offensive).
I had to scamper into the men’s bathroom and use the hand dryers in the men’s to start drying it out, then left it by my computer and hoped I’d be able to read the contents once the paper had dried out. (Oddly nobody seemed to notice the guy walking rather rapidly across the office swearing to himself, whilst holding a small, red, dripping wet notepad out before him). Thankfully, as I leaf through the still damp pages the vast majority is legible. Only a small collection lose pages at the back have been turned into pieces of abstract art, and most of that was recent research I can duplicate; so no real harm done in the end. I know the majority of people that read this blog dabble in the writing lark, and I thought you might relate the moments of apprehension and frustration that preceded the realisation that the notepad pulled through it’s ordeal, the little fighter.
Anyway - Hello readers. I hadn’t planned on taking up quite so much of this entry with that miniature disaster. I hope your weekend was more constructive than mine.
I had set myself a few goals to achieve this weekend. To finish writing a short story I started last week. To take a look at Brain Scratch, I rewrote it one evening (yet to re-upload) and it now has the makings of a pretty weird and quirky mini series. To do a little housekeeping on my personal accounts, and my house for that matter (Okay, I live in an apartment, but house fit the line better). I would then reward myself with a nice steak and cider dinner and allow myself to finish reading The Drawing of the Three; book II of the Dark Tower Series, something I currently crave as much as caffeine.
But alas, I hit a snag. My motivation was hampered by procrastination. When I say hampered, I mean shut in a box, placed in a cannon and fired into the sky before being shot with a rocket and the pieces fed to motivation eating piranhas who themselves were eaten by motivation eating piranha eating sharks. You get my point, I’m sure.
Where did it all go wrong? The same place it always does. I took the reward before doing the work. I woke up uncustomary late on Saturday and decided a quick read over breakfast would do no harm. I then decided a quick session on the XBOX would help centre my creative mojo, despite it failing to do so on every previous occasion. But if you have read some of my earlier posts you will know that I am trying to be optimistic, tentatively optimistic that is. But upon realising that this time would not differ from any that preceded it I returned to the book, and then to the Internet and watching vlogs on youtube; then once more to the book.
I was trapped within a self fuelling circle of procrastination until around mid-afternoon when I believed the injury that had been keeping me from training for the last few weeks had recovered enough for me to run again. It hadn’t. After six miles my left ankle and calf were threatening to detach from the rest of me, kill me then find a more caring host. Thankfully the six-mile mark was back at the corner of my street, so I had only a few metres to hobble before collapsing in a pitiful pile on my living room floor. Still, lets look at the positives. The fact that it held for six miles is good, but I have very likely added another week or two to my recovery. Oh joy.
I fared no better Sunday, I finished the book and when I got home today I began reading the third volume; The Wastelands, as I waited for my dinner to cook. But Heroes returns to the BBC tonight, and if there is one thing I want to know now more than the fate of Roland in the Dark Tower books, it is what happens when the Heroes become Fugitives. I am such a geek.
Until next time
Most writers, professional or amateur will always have one item close by – a notepad. Full of ideas, strings of dialogue, elements of projects past and current, newspaper or magazine clippings, research notes; you get the idea. This notepad is a pretty important piece of kit, and understandably the sort of person that carries said item would not like to see damaged or lost. I am one such person. This morning, as I arrived at the office, sat down at my desk and reached into my wet bag to get the bottle of water I had in there, did you notice how I said wet bag? The damned bottle had fallen on its side and leaked all over my stuff, including my notepad which got soaked through from the bottom to about halfway up. (I would post my reaction, but you might flag this blog as offensive).
I had to scamper into the men’s bathroom and use the hand dryers in the men’s to start drying it out, then left it by my computer and hoped I’d be able to read the contents once the paper had dried out. (Oddly nobody seemed to notice the guy walking rather rapidly across the office swearing to himself, whilst holding a small, red, dripping wet notepad out before him). Thankfully, as I leaf through the still damp pages the vast majority is legible. Only a small collection lose pages at the back have been turned into pieces of abstract art, and most of that was recent research I can duplicate; so no real harm done in the end. I know the majority of people that read this blog dabble in the writing lark, and I thought you might relate the moments of apprehension and frustration that preceded the realisation that the notepad pulled through it’s ordeal, the little fighter.
Anyway - Hello readers. I hadn’t planned on taking up quite so much of this entry with that miniature disaster. I hope your weekend was more constructive than mine.
I had set myself a few goals to achieve this weekend. To finish writing a short story I started last week. To take a look at Brain Scratch, I rewrote it one evening (yet to re-upload) and it now has the makings of a pretty weird and quirky mini series. To do a little housekeeping on my personal accounts, and my house for that matter (Okay, I live in an apartment, but house fit the line better). I would then reward myself with a nice steak and cider dinner and allow myself to finish reading The Drawing of the Three; book II of the Dark Tower Series, something I currently crave as much as caffeine.
But alas, I hit a snag. My motivation was hampered by procrastination. When I say hampered, I mean shut in a box, placed in a cannon and fired into the sky before being shot with a rocket and the pieces fed to motivation eating piranhas who themselves were eaten by motivation eating piranha eating sharks. You get my point, I’m sure.
Where did it all go wrong? The same place it always does. I took the reward before doing the work. I woke up uncustomary late on Saturday and decided a quick read over breakfast would do no harm. I then decided a quick session on the XBOX would help centre my creative mojo, despite it failing to do so on every previous occasion. But if you have read some of my earlier posts you will know that I am trying to be optimistic, tentatively optimistic that is. But upon realising that this time would not differ from any that preceded it I returned to the book, and then to the Internet and watching vlogs on youtube; then once more to the book.
I was trapped within a self fuelling circle of procrastination until around mid-afternoon when I believed the injury that had been keeping me from training for the last few weeks had recovered enough for me to run again. It hadn’t. After six miles my left ankle and calf were threatening to detach from the rest of me, kill me then find a more caring host. Thankfully the six-mile mark was back at the corner of my street, so I had only a few metres to hobble before collapsing in a pitiful pile on my living room floor. Still, lets look at the positives. The fact that it held for six miles is good, but I have very likely added another week or two to my recovery. Oh joy.
I fared no better Sunday, I finished the book and when I got home today I began reading the third volume; The Wastelands, as I waited for my dinner to cook. But Heroes returns to the BBC tonight, and if there is one thing I want to know now more than the fate of Roland in the Dark Tower books, it is what happens when the Heroes become Fugitives. I am such a geek.
Until next time
Thursday, 19 February 2009
The Gunslinger
Hello readers. Once more I find myself under the spell of Stephen Kings imagination, and encapsulated by the quest for the Dark Tower - A quest that begins with The Gunslinger.
“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”
I mentioned being re-introduced to the series in Senseless Superstition, and since I began reading The Gunslinger that evening I have read little else; only just managing to squeeze in the last chapters Nineteen Eighty Four between long sessions sat with my nose in the Dark Tower books.
The story has me captivated, so much so that it becomes a battle to put the books down, because I know if I don’t I’ll read until my eyes get sore and begin to stream. Such has been my desire to relearn of the journey, that six days on I am already over halfway through the second instalment, The Drawing of The Three.
For those who have not read any of the Dark Tower series, I should point out that they are quite different from other Stephen King titles, largely due to the themes bordering modern fantasy and sci-fi. Yet the series ties in with many more familiar titles such as The Stand, Insomnia, Salem’s Lot and It; to name but a few.
The Gunslinger introduces us to Roland Deschain, the last of a chivalrous order of Gunslingers from; we learn, a nation that is now only a memory and has been forgotten by time, left to crumble into the darkness – much like the rest of the world he inhabits. At this stage we are given the impression Roland’s world is perhaps our in a distant future, having undergone a drastic change, or even a parallel universe. Yet it resembles the American Old West and fragments of the world we know appear sporadically, making it seem a lot closer to a time we could relate to. Even though the characters to refer to these fragments as relics from an age long past.
Roland is pursuit of the mysterious man in black, who he believes can lead him to the even more mysterious Dark Tower. The reason for the quest, and the purpose of the Dark Tower are never explained in much detail in The Gunslinger. We are shown that even Roland does not fully understand why he must find the tower; he believes it is destiny and is completely dedicated to discovering what that destiny is.
The story concerns the final months of Roland’s pursuit of the Man in Black, switching between Roland’s present, his childhood, and events in the recent past, thus setting the scene for the rest of the series and finally culminating in an intriguing encounter between Protaganist and Antagnist in an ancient bone littered Golgatha, beyond the edge of explored territory.
What I really enjoy about The Gunslinger is how Roland appears to be of huge importance, and that he and the tower are central to some grand scheme. Yet simultaneously he appears so small and insignificant in a vast, barren world which appears to be unravelling at the edges. He is not an intellectually smart man, he sees things simply, and the odds continue to mount up against him. But through instinct and belief he continues to march forward, almost automatically. I have been told that compared to the later books in the series, The Gunslinger is relatively boring; but what is may lack in action, it more than makes up for in an atmosphere that you will quickly become immersed in, gripping set pieces, and enough intrigue to keep you hurriedly turning the pages as the encounter with the Man in Black draws closer.
The Gunslinger is amongst my favourite books, at only 238 pages long it is perhaps short enough to persuade you to pick it up and try. Even if you don’t care to read the rest of the series, I think you’d appreciate what Stephen King has produced in The Gunslinger.
“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”
I mentioned being re-introduced to the series in Senseless Superstition, and since I began reading The Gunslinger that evening I have read little else; only just managing to squeeze in the last chapters Nineteen Eighty Four between long sessions sat with my nose in the Dark Tower books.
The story has me captivated, so much so that it becomes a battle to put the books down, because I know if I don’t I’ll read until my eyes get sore and begin to stream. Such has been my desire to relearn of the journey, that six days on I am already over halfway through the second instalment, The Drawing of The Three.
For those who have not read any of the Dark Tower series, I should point out that they are quite different from other Stephen King titles, largely due to the themes bordering modern fantasy and sci-fi. Yet the series ties in with many more familiar titles such as The Stand, Insomnia, Salem’s Lot and It; to name but a few.
The Gunslinger introduces us to Roland Deschain, the last of a chivalrous order of Gunslingers from; we learn, a nation that is now only a memory and has been forgotten by time, left to crumble into the darkness – much like the rest of the world he inhabits. At this stage we are given the impression Roland’s world is perhaps our in a distant future, having undergone a drastic change, or even a parallel universe. Yet it resembles the American Old West and fragments of the world we know appear sporadically, making it seem a lot closer to a time we could relate to. Even though the characters to refer to these fragments as relics from an age long past.
Roland is pursuit of the mysterious man in black, who he believes can lead him to the even more mysterious Dark Tower. The reason for the quest, and the purpose of the Dark Tower are never explained in much detail in The Gunslinger. We are shown that even Roland does not fully understand why he must find the tower; he believes it is destiny and is completely dedicated to discovering what that destiny is.
The story concerns the final months of Roland’s pursuit of the Man in Black, switching between Roland’s present, his childhood, and events in the recent past, thus setting the scene for the rest of the series and finally culminating in an intriguing encounter between Protaganist and Antagnist in an ancient bone littered Golgatha, beyond the edge of explored territory.
What I really enjoy about The Gunslinger is how Roland appears to be of huge importance, and that he and the tower are central to some grand scheme. Yet simultaneously he appears so small and insignificant in a vast, barren world which appears to be unravelling at the edges. He is not an intellectually smart man, he sees things simply, and the odds continue to mount up against him. But through instinct and belief he continues to march forward, almost automatically. I have been told that compared to the later books in the series, The Gunslinger is relatively boring; but what is may lack in action, it more than makes up for in an atmosphere that you will quickly become immersed in, gripping set pieces, and enough intrigue to keep you hurriedly turning the pages as the encounter with the Man in Black draws closer.
The Gunslinger is amongst my favourite books, at only 238 pages long it is perhaps short enough to persuade you to pick it up and try. Even if you don’t care to read the rest of the series, I think you’d appreciate what Stephen King has produced in The Gunslinger.
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
Next Exit
Oh readers, what a day. In reality it has been much like any other weekday, I awoke to a light drizzle pattering on my bedroom window, cursing myself for having gone to bed late. I got ready for work and watched vlogs on youtube whilst eating breakfast, went to work, came home, and am writing this whilst I wait for my housemate to return and we can go out.
But somewhere along that journey through the mundane, I encountered one of those moments I’m sure all of us have at some point. A moment in which the world; moreover your little piece of it, suddenly feels tiresome, pointless and has you wanting for a means of escape. A moment brought on by that feeling, (or should I say realisation?) that you are fundamentally unhappy with some large element of your life.
Such a moment struck me today and despite my best efforts; I appeared to have brought it home. What a sorry sight I must have made, marching back through the city – wearing my black suit, overcoat, umbrella and a weary look that (if the face that looked back at me from the mirror when I arrived home is anything to go by), seemed to tell of melancholy, loss, frustration and I suspect a hint of anger. You would have been forgiven for believing I had just returned from a returned from a funeral rather than the office.
A cup of tea; (how typically English of me!), and some quiet mediation has lifted the cloud of gloom from my shoulders, and allowed me to analyse the cause of this upset and what measures I should take to rectify it. The cause is my job. A statement that will perhaps come as no surprise to anybody reading that knows me well, after all I briefly began to look for alternative employment in the later quarter of last year. But various changes resulting in a transfer to a new department and a more varied, challenging workload did wonders to subdue any unhappiness. But, in the lull I described in Complex Freak or Super Geek, those niggling little voices of discontent began to whisper once more. At first I thought the company was attempting to brainwash me through the air conditioning, but when nobody else claimed to have heard the voices I realised it was in my head. Well, in my head or those pesky house elves are playing tricks on me again.
What the Dickens! Did I just reference Harry Potter? Holy Hand-Grenades, I really do have issues.
You can take that poor attempt at humour as a sign that I have waved a wand in the direction of that little cloud of gloom and yelled Expelliamus, vanquishing it to whence it came. (On a side note, I have no idea where these Harry Potter references are coming from; I’m not a fan). My new years resolution/mantra seems to have really taken root, nothing seems to keep me in low spirits for long anymore. I dare say I will as wide-eyed and hyperactive as Mary Poppins on speed by the end of the evening.
I realise I have just taken you on a trip around tangent town, sorry. Shall we make our way back to the main topic?
Before our unscheduled diversion I was talking to you about my job. But during the course of writing and then editing this entry, which; as it turned out, included a trip to the supermarket, making and eating dinner, ironing a shirt for tomorrow and a conversation on Nuclear Fusion with my housemate, I realised that I had actually resolved the issue. I don’t dislike everything about my job, but I am allowing what are a relatively few issues cloud my judgement and forget the many positives I do take from it, and the people I work with. Except one, who is a complete douche bag. (I think only disliking one of around eight hundred co-workers is pretty good!). So I will tackle these issues one at a time, keep working hard and get my self noticed – because a promotion is not out of reach. In the meantime, I’ll drop my cv off in the local recruitment agencies just to gage what kind of work is available, and in a month or two can reassess the situation.
Part of me wishes I could solve all of my problems that easily. But then I guess if life were that easy we would get so bored that we would invent new ways to create problems for ourselves.
But somewhere along that journey through the mundane, I encountered one of those moments I’m sure all of us have at some point. A moment in which the world; moreover your little piece of it, suddenly feels tiresome, pointless and has you wanting for a means of escape. A moment brought on by that feeling, (or should I say realisation?) that you are fundamentally unhappy with some large element of your life.
Such a moment struck me today and despite my best efforts; I appeared to have brought it home. What a sorry sight I must have made, marching back through the city – wearing my black suit, overcoat, umbrella and a weary look that (if the face that looked back at me from the mirror when I arrived home is anything to go by), seemed to tell of melancholy, loss, frustration and I suspect a hint of anger. You would have been forgiven for believing I had just returned from a returned from a funeral rather than the office.
A cup of tea; (how typically English of me!), and some quiet mediation has lifted the cloud of gloom from my shoulders, and allowed me to analyse the cause of this upset and what measures I should take to rectify it. The cause is my job. A statement that will perhaps come as no surprise to anybody reading that knows me well, after all I briefly began to look for alternative employment in the later quarter of last year. But various changes resulting in a transfer to a new department and a more varied, challenging workload did wonders to subdue any unhappiness. But, in the lull I described in Complex Freak or Super Geek, those niggling little voices of discontent began to whisper once more. At first I thought the company was attempting to brainwash me through the air conditioning, but when nobody else claimed to have heard the voices I realised it was in my head. Well, in my head or those pesky house elves are playing tricks on me again.
What the Dickens! Did I just reference Harry Potter? Holy Hand-Grenades, I really do have issues.
You can take that poor attempt at humour as a sign that I have waved a wand in the direction of that little cloud of gloom and yelled Expelliamus, vanquishing it to whence it came. (On a side note, I have no idea where these Harry Potter references are coming from; I’m not a fan). My new years resolution/mantra seems to have really taken root, nothing seems to keep me in low spirits for long anymore. I dare say I will as wide-eyed and hyperactive as Mary Poppins on speed by the end of the evening.
I realise I have just taken you on a trip around tangent town, sorry. Shall we make our way back to the main topic?
Before our unscheduled diversion I was talking to you about my job. But during the course of writing and then editing this entry, which; as it turned out, included a trip to the supermarket, making and eating dinner, ironing a shirt for tomorrow and a conversation on Nuclear Fusion with my housemate, I realised that I had actually resolved the issue. I don’t dislike everything about my job, but I am allowing what are a relatively few issues cloud my judgement and forget the many positives I do take from it, and the people I work with. Except one, who is a complete douche bag. (I think only disliking one of around eight hundred co-workers is pretty good!). So I will tackle these issues one at a time, keep working hard and get my self noticed – because a promotion is not out of reach. In the meantime, I’ll drop my cv off in the local recruitment agencies just to gage what kind of work is available, and in a month or two can reassess the situation.
Part of me wishes I could solve all of my problems that easily. But then I guess if life were that easy we would get so bored that we would invent new ways to create problems for ourselves.
Friday, 13 February 2009
Senseless Superstition
Paraskavedekatriaphobic: A person with an irrational, morbid fear of Friday the Thirteenth.
Hello readers, I hope this entry finds you well on this, the supposedly unluckiest of days. Whilst I may hold a passing interest in anything paranormal or supernatural, I stop short of allowing superstitions to worm their way into my system of beliefs. I may not be able to claim, in the strictest sense, to be a man of science; given my willingness to explore philosophy and religion. But I do consider myself to be a person driven by logic. When faced with something apparently supernatural, my instincts are to look at the origins of its birth, and of the society that birthed it - Then to remove the exaggerations, the misinterpretations, and the plainly absurd, finally studying what remains.
In most cases what remains is perfectly explainable, but are still the occasional instances when science cannot yet explain every detail. Personally, until I am faced with facts that will force me to alter my beliefs, I will continue to believe that one-day science will find an answer for those remaining instances. To me superstition feels like a relic of a long past age when people did not have the science and technology behind them to understand and communicate as we can now. I feel like the world has moved on, that society has moved on – to a place where the answers to almost everything are merely a few minutes of typing and clicking away. So it amazes me to hear of people who remain superstitious, who retain that irrational fear – when the truth is within reach. But enough of superstition, for now at least
Today has been largely pleasant; we were hit by heavy snow last night. But this morning the sun made a cameo appearance and bade the cold subside for awhile, it was also dress down day at the office – the two events seemed to put everybody in a happier, more relaxed mood; which was a nice way to end the week.
Earlier in the week I discovered a couple of my new colleagues are as big a bookworms as I, which has since lead to my rediscovery of Stephen Kings Dark Tower series. I read the first three whilst in college and loved them; particularly The Gunslinger (Book 1), but somewhere along the line they fell in to some deep recess in a rarely frequented corner my memory, and there lay forgotten for what must be around seven years.
One of them kindly leant me a copy of The Gunslinger to read, because; as I have now learnt, Monsieur King revised it after completing the series, so it better tied in with its successors. It was almost like being reunited with an old friend, after only casting an eye down the contents page, and briefly reading the first paragraph (whilst pretending to work), memories of the plot, the characters, and where I was when I read it first time round, how I felt - all came flooding back. So much so that two days later on, I am practically finished, and could not resist the urge to buy the first three instalments on the way home from work this evening. They should keep me busy for a few weeks.
In other news, did you hear about the collision between US and Russian communications satellites? I wasn’t particularly paying attention to the news story until a set of graphics was brought up showing the amount of man made debris that now orbits the planet. I think it stated that there are around 17,000 pieces of debris moving about at great speed, and around 3000 active satellites.
It seems like it’s getting crowded up there, apparently polluting the earth itself isn’t enough anymore, where will it end?
The full story on the BBC
Hello readers, I hope this entry finds you well on this, the supposedly unluckiest of days. Whilst I may hold a passing interest in anything paranormal or supernatural, I stop short of allowing superstitions to worm their way into my system of beliefs. I may not be able to claim, in the strictest sense, to be a man of science; given my willingness to explore philosophy and religion. But I do consider myself to be a person driven by logic. When faced with something apparently supernatural, my instincts are to look at the origins of its birth, and of the society that birthed it - Then to remove the exaggerations, the misinterpretations, and the plainly absurd, finally studying what remains.
In most cases what remains is perfectly explainable, but are still the occasional instances when science cannot yet explain every detail. Personally, until I am faced with facts that will force me to alter my beliefs, I will continue to believe that one-day science will find an answer for those remaining instances. To me superstition feels like a relic of a long past age when people did not have the science and technology behind them to understand and communicate as we can now. I feel like the world has moved on, that society has moved on – to a place where the answers to almost everything are merely a few minutes of typing and clicking away. So it amazes me to hear of people who remain superstitious, who retain that irrational fear – when the truth is within reach. But enough of superstition, for now at least
Today has been largely pleasant; we were hit by heavy snow last night. But this morning the sun made a cameo appearance and bade the cold subside for awhile, it was also dress down day at the office – the two events seemed to put everybody in a happier, more relaxed mood; which was a nice way to end the week.
Earlier in the week I discovered a couple of my new colleagues are as big a bookworms as I, which has since lead to my rediscovery of Stephen Kings Dark Tower series. I read the first three whilst in college and loved them; particularly The Gunslinger (Book 1), but somewhere along the line they fell in to some deep recess in a rarely frequented corner my memory, and there lay forgotten for what must be around seven years.
One of them kindly leant me a copy of The Gunslinger to read, because; as I have now learnt, Monsieur King revised it after completing the series, so it better tied in with its successors. It was almost like being reunited with an old friend, after only casting an eye down the contents page, and briefly reading the first paragraph (whilst pretending to work), memories of the plot, the characters, and where I was when I read it first time round, how I felt - all came flooding back. So much so that two days later on, I am practically finished, and could not resist the urge to buy the first three instalments on the way home from work this evening. They should keep me busy for a few weeks.
In other news, did you hear about the collision between US and Russian communications satellites? I wasn’t particularly paying attention to the news story until a set of graphics was brought up showing the amount of man made debris that now orbits the planet. I think it stated that there are around 17,000 pieces of debris moving about at great speed, and around 3000 active satellites.
It seems like it’s getting crowded up there, apparently polluting the earth itself isn’t enough anymore, where will it end?
The full story on the BBC
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
Complex Freak or Super Geek?
Despite the high cost of living, it still remains popular.
Hello Readers. If the title of this entry ends up being relevant to the content, it’s purely coincidental. The phrase came up in conversation today, and I; being the shifty little urchin that I am, decided to steal it. Yoink.
This week has been somewhat of a luxury thus far, in that I am currently experiencing a welcomed lull from what has felt like constant hustle and bustle since this New Year was thrust upon me like an unwanted pet cat, that has a tendency to try and claw your eyes out. Sorry, that sounded a little on the negative side. I will make the effort to add something positive to this post before its conclusion.
So, what has brought about this lull? Well, psychical injury for one; a minor injury albeit, (the result of some over zealous training at the weekend), but enough to give me an excuse not to train (much) this week. I have also had respite, in the most frustrating form, at work, due to our IT systems either, A: operating as slowly as a herd of tortoises stampeding through peanut butter, or B: having completely fallen over. ‘Fallen over’ being corporate speak for “It’s F***Ed”.
This slowdown has given rise to some interesting conversations, resulting in phrases such like the title of this entry being unleashed into the public domain. It has also left me with small pockets of time in which I have had very little do, (not for lack of trying) which inevitably lead to me beginning to think. When I begin to think at work, all the weird and wonderful thoughts that, up to this point, have been repressed to keep my mind on my job rise up in rebellion and spill into my conscious like the Parisian insurgents storming the Bastille in 1789; threatening to decapitate me and parade my head around on a stick should I ignore their demands for attention.
Fearing for my life, I attentively let my mind wander. Unsurprisingly, my thoughts are currently inspired by Brave New World and Nineteen Eighty-Four, a copy of which – at the point in time I now refer to, was sat on my in tray glaring impatiently at me, waiting to be read at lunch. I started to see similarities between my workplace and those of the two novels, which goes someway to explain why I like them so much. They were written in 1932 and 1949 respectively, yet they still strike me as being all to relevant. A passage describing Winston’s workplace in The Ministry of Truth, (Which I won’t quote because its too long, Chapter 4, pages 48-50 penguin Orwell centenary edition) reminded me so much of my own working environment, and how people react with one another.
I work for a national company, that is part of an international organisation, and I find comparisons to Dystopian environments draw themselves. Given the ease in which one can feel undervalued and invisible, can feel lost – can be lost, within the sea of uniformity such an organisation requires to function efficiently. At times it can feel as though you are using all of your strength just to be noticed and keep your head above water, knowing that if you stop; even momentarily, you could be dragged into the depths of melancholy and obscurity. A place you may find it hard to return from.
But then I am the sort of person that likes to escape into my head, life is more interesting in there than in reality. Conjuring up a grand theory that involves some sinister big brother like force hiding behind the photocopier, watching, controlling and conspiring, gives me a convenient way of shifting the blame for any faults of my own on to something else; even if that thing is merely a figment of my overactive imagination. Thankfully for me, I am aware of this little habit of mine, and usually take actions to correct it. I say usually, I like to take these little flights of fancy from time to time – they keep me sane. The problems will only occur when I begin to mistake them for reality.
Hello Readers. If the title of this entry ends up being relevant to the content, it’s purely coincidental. The phrase came up in conversation today, and I; being the shifty little urchin that I am, decided to steal it. Yoink.
This week has been somewhat of a luxury thus far, in that I am currently experiencing a welcomed lull from what has felt like constant hustle and bustle since this New Year was thrust upon me like an unwanted pet cat, that has a tendency to try and claw your eyes out. Sorry, that sounded a little on the negative side. I will make the effort to add something positive to this post before its conclusion.
So, what has brought about this lull? Well, psychical injury for one; a minor injury albeit, (the result of some over zealous training at the weekend), but enough to give me an excuse not to train (much) this week. I have also had respite, in the most frustrating form, at work, due to our IT systems either, A: operating as slowly as a herd of tortoises stampeding through peanut butter, or B: having completely fallen over. ‘Fallen over’ being corporate speak for “It’s F***Ed”.
This slowdown has given rise to some interesting conversations, resulting in phrases such like the title of this entry being unleashed into the public domain. It has also left me with small pockets of time in which I have had very little do, (not for lack of trying) which inevitably lead to me beginning to think. When I begin to think at work, all the weird and wonderful thoughts that, up to this point, have been repressed to keep my mind on my job rise up in rebellion and spill into my conscious like the Parisian insurgents storming the Bastille in 1789; threatening to decapitate me and parade my head around on a stick should I ignore their demands for attention.
Fearing for my life, I attentively let my mind wander. Unsurprisingly, my thoughts are currently inspired by Brave New World and Nineteen Eighty-Four, a copy of which – at the point in time I now refer to, was sat on my in tray glaring impatiently at me, waiting to be read at lunch. I started to see similarities between my workplace and those of the two novels, which goes someway to explain why I like them so much. They were written in 1932 and 1949 respectively, yet they still strike me as being all to relevant. A passage describing Winston’s workplace in The Ministry of Truth, (Which I won’t quote because its too long, Chapter 4, pages 48-50 penguin Orwell centenary edition) reminded me so much of my own working environment, and how people react with one another.
I work for a national company, that is part of an international organisation, and I find comparisons to Dystopian environments draw themselves. Given the ease in which one can feel undervalued and invisible, can feel lost – can be lost, within the sea of uniformity such an organisation requires to function efficiently. At times it can feel as though you are using all of your strength just to be noticed and keep your head above water, knowing that if you stop; even momentarily, you could be dragged into the depths of melancholy and obscurity. A place you may find it hard to return from.
But then I am the sort of person that likes to escape into my head, life is more interesting in there than in reality. Conjuring up a grand theory that involves some sinister big brother like force hiding behind the photocopier, watching, controlling and conspiring, gives me a convenient way of shifting the blame for any faults of my own on to something else; even if that thing is merely a figment of my overactive imagination. Thankfully for me, I am aware of this little habit of mine, and usually take actions to correct it. I say usually, I like to take these little flights of fancy from time to time – they keep me sane. The problems will only occur when I begin to mistake them for reality.
Monday, 9 February 2009
Bright Like Neon Love
Love is like wetting yourself in the dark. You can’t see it, but you feel warm all over.
Hello readers. The following entry concerns love. Aww
Let me explain. I joined 20-something bloggers last week, or was it the end of the week before? I don’t recall, anyway that doesn’t matter.
For those that haven’t heard of said website (I hadn’t until very recently), it is essentially a network for bloggers in their twenties. If you want to check it out, click HERE.
The organiser of the site is hosting a competition, wherein entrants must upload a vlog (no longer than five minutes) in which they show what they love. I liked the idea, but unfortunately I am without means of making a video. So I thought I’d write about what I love.
I love lamp.
…Sorry, couldn’t resist.
I love being awake in the early hours of the morning whilst the rest of the city sleeps. I love running through the silent, deserted streets with my mp3player playing ambient dance or electronic music. Or just running with no music - paying attention to the feelings of freedom and solitude, soaking up the emptiness, the glow of the street lamps, the sounds of the distant traffic.
I love running along the river as the darkness gives way to the light, taking out my scull and paddling out of the city, away from the ceaseless commotion to the tranquillity of the broads on a warm summers day. The only sounds are those of the wind in the trees, of the wildlife in the river and on the banks, of my oars dropping into the water and of my legs pushing my seat back along its runners – in a constant smooth, automatic motion. I love the feeling of my muscles working together, working well – as part of a perfect fluid movement. I love the warmth of the sun on my body as I stop to catch breath and take in the moment.
I love waking up in another country, with new places to explore, new sights, and new experiences to be had. Knowing I haven’t got to be here, or there, I haven’t got to see this person or that. My day is mine to do with as I wish.
I love music; I could not imagine a life with out it. It inspires me, it energizes me, and it relaxes me.
I love being in the company of friends and family, sharing a meal, talking or playing late into the night.
And I love being in love, with somebody who loves me back, who believes in me. The world seems a little less disconcerting when you have somebody by your side.
So there you have it. That’s what I love. What do you love?
Hello readers. The following entry concerns love. Aww
Let me explain. I joined 20-something bloggers last week, or was it the end of the week before? I don’t recall, anyway that doesn’t matter.
For those that haven’t heard of said website (I hadn’t until very recently), it is essentially a network for bloggers in their twenties. If you want to check it out, click HERE.
The organiser of the site is hosting a competition, wherein entrants must upload a vlog (no longer than five minutes) in which they show what they love. I liked the idea, but unfortunately I am without means of making a video. So I thought I’d write about what I love.
I love lamp.
…Sorry, couldn’t resist.
I love being awake in the early hours of the morning whilst the rest of the city sleeps. I love running through the silent, deserted streets with my mp3player playing ambient dance or electronic music. Or just running with no music - paying attention to the feelings of freedom and solitude, soaking up the emptiness, the glow of the street lamps, the sounds of the distant traffic.
I love running along the river as the darkness gives way to the light, taking out my scull and paddling out of the city, away from the ceaseless commotion to the tranquillity of the broads on a warm summers day. The only sounds are those of the wind in the trees, of the wildlife in the river and on the banks, of my oars dropping into the water and of my legs pushing my seat back along its runners – in a constant smooth, automatic motion. I love the feeling of my muscles working together, working well – as part of a perfect fluid movement. I love the warmth of the sun on my body as I stop to catch breath and take in the moment.
I love waking up in another country, with new places to explore, new sights, and new experiences to be had. Knowing I haven’t got to be here, or there, I haven’t got to see this person or that. My day is mine to do with as I wish.
I love music; I could not imagine a life with out it. It inspires me, it energizes me, and it relaxes me.
I love being in the company of friends and family, sharing a meal, talking or playing late into the night.
And I love being in love, with somebody who loves me back, who believes in me. The world seems a little less disconcerting when you have somebody by your side.
So there you have it. That’s what I love. What do you love?
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Brain Scratch
Greetings readers. Last night I was attempting to finish a short story I had started the other day, when I was struck by a complete lack of inspiration and ideas. Then the scene below came to me. It is completely unrelated to what I was working on, and I don’t generally use this genre - But I liked it so I thought I’d share it. (Largely Inspired by some random Euro-Electrononense I was listening to on Last.fm when I should have been sleeping)
Note: This is only an initial draft; I have given it only a minor edit since writing and uploading. I may try and work it into something more substantial another time.
-- -- --
Above the terminal building of the Ganymede Gateway the two-foot high laser-formed floating-rotating clock flashed 18:30. On either side display screens immediately projected 3d images of the latest events deemed newsworthy.
Somewhere a riot had turned ugly. Silently, images of armoured enforcers engaging “terrorists of the peace” danced above the heads of commuters in the square. Anybody who questioned the authorities was a terrorist of the peace, and a terrorist of the peace was prone to disappear or drop dead suddenly. That’s the way things went now.
The headline praised the enforcers for subduing a threat to the security of the state.
In the square, just off centre, stood a vagrant known as Elvis. He had aquamarine coloured hair styled like a much-loved icon from a time before the new-reality. Ignoring the mute battle playing out overhead, he played an Electro-lele and sang about the end of time in a deep-bass heavy voice that defied his tall, willowy frame. Around his neck he wore a sign that read ‘Mankind is not free’.
The crowd looked past him, flowed past him; broke against him – like water against a rock face. Converging once more as they passed, they moved so quickly that their faceless, uniform bodies appeared to morph into one liquid entity and move in a unity that was almost beautiful. Or so thought Ed, from a bench on the opposite side of the square. It was beginning to kick in.
Everything seemed louder, brighter – more intense. He laid back and thought of nothing, soaking the sounds in. He drew in a breath so deep that his inflated lungs felt close to bursting, he held it until his eyes began to water then expelled. For a moment everything feel silent, the tears in his eyes made the new-reality look as though it were melting. He covered his eyes with his hands. His foot found rhythm against the metal tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap. The entire metallic form beneath his body hummed to the sound of the beat, resonating a hollow-doom impending metallic sound.
Jazz was sat, cross-legged, on the artificial green beside the bench - the fibre optic grass glowed warmly reflecting the soft greens, sunburnt orange and occasionally patch of purple in the evening sky. She took a long drag on her lo-fi brand cigarette, closed her eyes, then threw her head back and exhaled a column of blue smoke toward the stars. A shadow darkened the inside of her eyelids; she opened them to see the face of Poli frowning down at her. “Shouldn’t smoke those.” Jazz reached up with her free hand and pulled the face closer “I know.” They locked lips before Poli pulled back and spun away, dancing to some imaginary tune.
Le Faux saw none of this; he lay flat out with his arms outstretched, perfectly still but for his eyes that constantly moved across the neon stained sky. He watched the rocket ships in the upper atmosphere leave orbit, watched the passenger craft on the middle level make the ascent to the gateway; watched the low altitude zeppelins with their neon billboards and visual display screens float overheard.
From some undetermined source an electric voice began to speak bean to sing. Drums began to beat in unison, slowly at first – before speeding up into a quick paced beat. Synthesized melodies crept into the air from every direction. The images on the display screens grew distorted. Elvis stopped singing.
Ed laughed – Le faux was on his feet, grabbing Poli by both hands they danced clumsily around Jazz who looked on with a subtle smile. She took another drag on her cigarette. She could feel the vibrations of the drums in the ground. Her body began to sway in time with the beat, with the tap taping of Ed’s foot on the bench.
The crowd no longer moved in unity. Ed let his head roll to one side – he could see the faces now, could see the confusion. Elvis looked up, and smiled. They came from everywhere, sweeping across the artificial green, the square – slipping into the crowd of uniformity. Colour – movement, they danced, they bade the commands of the electric voice that still sang.
Order had been disrupted. A new sound, distant at first – but they wailed louder with every passing second. Sirens. The two-foot high laser-formed floating-rotating clock flashed 18:33.
Brain Scratch! Yelled Ed as he pulled himself upright. Jazz nodded, her eyes were closed. She exhaled another jet of blue smoke and smiled. The fun was about to begin.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Boogie Woogie Feng Shui
Death. Life’s way of telling you, you’ve been fired.
Hello readers. It has been an eventful few days in the UK, as you may of heard, or have even seen first hand. Old Jack Frost has hit out with a vengeance, bringing snow – lots of snow, and causing havoc. Alas, not for me unfortunately. Living in the city centre as I do, (about 10minutes walk away from the office) means you generally can’t get away with the whole “I’m snowed in, can’t make it into work today” routine.
But its does mean that when the city is in gridlock with traffic crawling at 0.1mph, people freezing in their cars and people queued up for buses that are late or broken down. I’m home in no time at all, cup of tea in hand one hand and an Xbox controller in the other. Score.
I did however brave the weather, to satisfy the desire for purchasing objects I don’t really need. A desire imbedded in my psyche by the many, many advertisements that have assaulted my senses over the years. I decided that despite the current financial climate I could justify spending £40.00 on an anime series. In my defence, that anime series is the fantastic Cowboy Bebop, one of the best anime ever produced, in my opinion. But I couldn’t find it anywhere, which might be just as well given my “justification”, was simply, a shrug of the shoulders followed by the comment “Eh. Its Cowboy Bebop.” Not exactly the best thought out case…I brought it online instead.
In others news – I finished reading Brave New World today, having excitedly lapped it up like a kitten with its head in a carton of cream. I loved it, so much so that I think I’m going to reread it over the next few weeks, between the other titles on my reading list.
As I mentioned in City of Delusion, Brave New World is a piece of futuristic Anti-Utopian fiction, in which humans are no longer born – but grown in state controlled hatcheries and conditioning centres; where they are genetically altered to suit the needs of society, and then conditioned into accepting the ideals and principles of modern society.
The society itself is split into five social castes, from Alpha (being the highest) to Betas, Deltas, Gammas and Epsilons. The book opens with a group of students on a tour of a hatchery and conditioning centre, learning the basics of the growing process. We learn of the Bokanovsky Process, a process that eggs destined to become Deltas, Gammas and Epsilons go under. It is method of producing from 8 to 96 embryos from one egg – resulting in 8 to 96 identical humans.
This is one of the core ideas around which the society Aldous Huxley has created in Brave New World has been built. The lower classes are simple minded, largely identical sub-humans that are tasked with the more menial jobs, and servicing the Alphas and Betas; who grow relatively normally – One Spermotoza to one egg equalling one human.
The narrative throws up two protagonists – The first is Bernard, an Alpha-plus who; through a mistake in his growth process, has the physique of a Gamma and thus has lead him developing personality complex, and made him an outcast amongst other Alphas (due to the mental conditioning that trains Alphas and Betas to look down upon the lower classes – Mental conditioning of the lower three castes train them to be happy that they are what they are, not thankful they are not an Alpha or Beta). Bernard’s actions throughout the narrative are driven by his desire to impress an Alpha female by the name of Lenina. These actions lead to the introduction of John, the second protagonist, who was born naturally outside the new society. It is John’s introduction to modern London, and his reactions to it that the second half of the narrative focuses on.
It was the character of John I was most attached to, his childhood is filled with isolation as he and his mother (a Beta from London) are not accepted in the community they have no choice but to remain in. He finds refuge in stories of Christ, and with tales of the Utopian modern society his mother speaks of. John undergoes the biggest emotional journey of all the characters, (mainly because the others have had their ability to emote quashed by years of control and conditioning).
Upon meeting Bernard, and subsequently being introduced to London. John is forced to face the reality of the society he envisioned, in meeting Lenina he is tortured by a love which somebody from the new society cannot understand or reciprocate (having been conditioned against strong feelings toward an individual). Even in making a friend of Helmholtz; a lecturer and writer (Bernard’s only friend), John is alienated when Helmholtz; despite showing signs of individualism and desire to write more than the prescribed propaganda, mocks John for reciting Shakespeare.
Johns journey through this new society eventually impacts on the lives of his two friends, and ultimately leaves him facing a harsh decision.
Brave New World really is an awesome book and, I feel, relevant to today’s society. It is now one of my favourites and I would strongly recommend it.
Hello readers. It has been an eventful few days in the UK, as you may of heard, or have even seen first hand. Old Jack Frost has hit out with a vengeance, bringing snow – lots of snow, and causing havoc. Alas, not for me unfortunately. Living in the city centre as I do, (about 10minutes walk away from the office) means you generally can’t get away with the whole “I’m snowed in, can’t make it into work today” routine.
But its does mean that when the city is in gridlock with traffic crawling at 0.1mph, people freezing in their cars and people queued up for buses that are late or broken down. I’m home in no time at all, cup of tea in hand one hand and an Xbox controller in the other. Score.
I did however brave the weather, to satisfy the desire for purchasing objects I don’t really need. A desire imbedded in my psyche by the many, many advertisements that have assaulted my senses over the years. I decided that despite the current financial climate I could justify spending £40.00 on an anime series. In my defence, that anime series is the fantastic Cowboy Bebop, one of the best anime ever produced, in my opinion. But I couldn’t find it anywhere, which might be just as well given my “justification”, was simply, a shrug of the shoulders followed by the comment “Eh. Its Cowboy Bebop.” Not exactly the best thought out case…I brought it online instead.
In others news – I finished reading Brave New World today, having excitedly lapped it up like a kitten with its head in a carton of cream. I loved it, so much so that I think I’m going to reread it over the next few weeks, between the other titles on my reading list.
As I mentioned in City of Delusion, Brave New World is a piece of futuristic Anti-Utopian fiction, in which humans are no longer born – but grown in state controlled hatcheries and conditioning centres; where they are genetically altered to suit the needs of society, and then conditioned into accepting the ideals and principles of modern society.
The society itself is split into five social castes, from Alpha (being the highest) to Betas, Deltas, Gammas and Epsilons. The book opens with a group of students on a tour of a hatchery and conditioning centre, learning the basics of the growing process. We learn of the Bokanovsky Process, a process that eggs destined to become Deltas, Gammas and Epsilons go under. It is method of producing from 8 to 96 embryos from one egg – resulting in 8 to 96 identical humans.
This is one of the core ideas around which the society Aldous Huxley has created in Brave New World has been built. The lower classes are simple minded, largely identical sub-humans that are tasked with the more menial jobs, and servicing the Alphas and Betas; who grow relatively normally – One Spermotoza to one egg equalling one human.
The narrative throws up two protagonists – The first is Bernard, an Alpha-plus who; through a mistake in his growth process, has the physique of a Gamma and thus has lead him developing personality complex, and made him an outcast amongst other Alphas (due to the mental conditioning that trains Alphas and Betas to look down upon the lower classes – Mental conditioning of the lower three castes train them to be happy that they are what they are, not thankful they are not an Alpha or Beta). Bernard’s actions throughout the narrative are driven by his desire to impress an Alpha female by the name of Lenina. These actions lead to the introduction of John, the second protagonist, who was born naturally outside the new society. It is John’s introduction to modern London, and his reactions to it that the second half of the narrative focuses on.
It was the character of John I was most attached to, his childhood is filled with isolation as he and his mother (a Beta from London) are not accepted in the community they have no choice but to remain in. He finds refuge in stories of Christ, and with tales of the Utopian modern society his mother speaks of. John undergoes the biggest emotional journey of all the characters, (mainly because the others have had their ability to emote quashed by years of control and conditioning).
Upon meeting Bernard, and subsequently being introduced to London. John is forced to face the reality of the society he envisioned, in meeting Lenina he is tortured by a love which somebody from the new society cannot understand or reciprocate (having been conditioned against strong feelings toward an individual). Even in making a friend of Helmholtz; a lecturer and writer (Bernard’s only friend), John is alienated when Helmholtz; despite showing signs of individualism and desire to write more than the prescribed propaganda, mocks John for reciting Shakespeare.
Johns journey through this new society eventually impacts on the lives of his two friends, and ultimately leaves him facing a harsh decision.
Brave New World really is an awesome book and, I feel, relevant to today’s society. It is now one of my favourites and I would strongly recommend it.
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