Now, I don't really want to get into the habit of reviewing games, there are already too many blogs and websites that do that, but there is a reason I wanted to indulge myself just this once, and for the most part, this isn't really a review as much as a mourning, and an indication of what the gaming world is kinda coming to. Let me explain.
The Line starts off like pretty much any third person shooter. You play the token white guy with a shaven head in army scrubs, with the token smart ass in a cap, and the token black guy. Everything is token, including the token enemies with token scarves and token AK47's, and a brief jump to a token helicopter scene.
So far, so token, and it would be easy to dismiss this game because of that, the controls aren't perfect and are so vanilla in flair that it's actually detrimental to the experience, but something different happens as you progress, and a story develops.
Now, anyone that has either read Jospeh Conrad's "The Heart of Darkness", or watched "Apocalypse Now" will recognize the story, and so you should, because the writers have pretty much categorically stated that this is 'heavily inspired' by the book. You get called in because a platoon of soldiers has pretty much vanished with no contact and when you get there you slowly find out that they have gone feral, and the leader of the platoon is now some sort of kingpin after having gone insane. There are war atrocities everywhere and he needs to be taken out so you can rescue the residents of Dubai.
Oh, the game is set in Dubai after a catastrophic sandstorm. I should have mentioned that.
Your character is actually a character in this game, not a vessel for you to project yourself onto, and this is a great thing.
Too many games these days have the silent guy, which is generally a trait in MMORPGs, in order to let you feel like you're involved, but as a story telling device it's bloody awful.
I don't have to make the decisions between good and bad when I play the game, I don't have to care that I accidentally killed a load of civilians, because it's part of the story, it's not like I'm doing it, or my character, it's all part of the narrative.
And the thing is, The Line does a really great job of making you realize you aren't a hero, and the characters actually become compelling and believable, I became really interested in where it was all going.
The self-loathing dragged on a little too much, if I had to complain, a little like Max Payne 3, Max constantly bitching about how rubbish he was after slowing down time to shoot 5 people in the head in under a second.
The real issue came at the end, so you can consider this a spoiler warning, but honestly, I'll be doing you a favor.
At the end of "Apocalypse Now", you face off against the rebel leader, who gives a long, dark twisted speech, and then you stab him. In "The Line", it is revealed that the leader was all in your head, and scenes you saw with living people were really with corpses and so forth.
You see, drawing inspiration, or doing an idea that has been done before is fine if you do it well, and from decent material, which this game did. It took an existing story and brought it to a modern audience, which it should be applauded for, however, THE SECOND that the writers deviate for the plot, they ruin it with some non-sensical twist bullshit.
It's like making a perfect cup of tea, two sugars, milk, and then stirring it with a week old white dog shit. They spent so much time building up around this old story and making it great, and then they add their touch and ruin the whole thing.
We didn't need a twist, we didn't need it at all, the game would have ended fine, better than fine if we just faced off the captain, even without a proper fight, it would have made a truly great story.
Instead, and sadly, it's such a terrible twist that it ruined the entire experience for me.
But, that being said, I really hope they make another one, this time with less pseudo-twist M. Night. Shyamalan bullshit.
Friday, 6 July 2012
Monday, 18 June 2012
The Bullshit behind Sexism in Computer Games.
So recently, feminists collectively shat a brick of anger over a segment within the new Tomb Raider trailer, with a comment from one of the executives from the team (Crystal Dynamics) that made the game, surrounding a scene where a guy tries to rape Lara, resulting in her blowing his head off.
This caused somewhat of an uproar about the fact that a leading female character has to fend of someone trying to sexually assault her, but no-one is really sure of the reason why that is offensive.
Where you offended by this? Why? What exactly is offensive about the idea that a male attempts to rape a female?
There are cries of sexism and inequality, but nobody can really pinpoint the issue, which seems to be for a simple fact - people like to kick up a stink.
Gaming used to be a male-dominated thing, and to a certain extent, it still is. Console and PC gaming is still a predominantly male past-time, and although the percentage of females in this area is rising, it still has the lingering issues of objectifying people.
And I do mean people, not just women. People. It seems that for every big-titted heroine that people protest, everyone seems to forget about the objectification of men in computer games.
My girlfriend brought up fighting games, saying that the women in them are usually all skimpy. I made a point that the men in the game are muscle-bound monsters, also, in some cases, skimpy.
This caused somewhat of an uproar about the fact that a leading female character has to fend of someone trying to sexually assault her, but no-one is really sure of the reason why that is offensive.
Where you offended by this? Why? What exactly is offensive about the idea that a male attempts to rape a female?
There are cries of sexism and inequality, but nobody can really pinpoint the issue, which seems to be for a simple fact - people like to kick up a stink.
Gaming used to be a male-dominated thing, and to a certain extent, it still is. Console and PC gaming is still a predominantly male past-time, and although the percentage of females in this area is rising, it still has the lingering issues of objectifying people.
And I do mean people, not just women. People. It seems that for every big-titted heroine that people protest, everyone seems to forget about the objectification of men in computer games.
My girlfriend brought up fighting games, saying that the women in them are usually all skimpy. I made a point that the men in the game are muscle-bound monsters, also, in some cases, skimpy.
 |
| Phowar |
Now I'm not offended, I'm well aware that this is supposed to be taken with a pinch of salt, the same way that Batman, Superman, Ryu, Ken, Marcus Fenix, Space Marine Dude and so on are all massive, ripped and an image of masculinity that is, frankly, unattainable for the majority of people who engage in these games.
So Batman has Catwoman, in her catsuit, but she isn't naked, rubbing her fanny in Batman's face, and in games with hyper-stylized characters, it's true the woman are big titted and fat arsed.
But in Gears of War, the women are all fully clad in the same armor, in Space Marine, the lead female wears a standard army uniform and leads the last surviving platoon on the planet to victory (I assume, I'm like an hour into it).
Bayonetta takes the other extreme, the lead female has long legs and goes down to her underoos fairly often, but she kicks ass, kills demons, and not to mention the lead male character in the game is a spineless, whimpering reporter who is in love with her, who is frequently belittled and emasculated by the lead female.
Need I also paint out that for Lara to be assaulted, they used a man, a portrayal of a stereotype that men are sexually aggressive. Where are all the female rapists in computer games? I have never had the desire to rape or sexually assault anyone, but I realize that it isn't supposed to be representative of EVERY male or even human being in the world, it's one character, existing within the (rather bleak) realms of possibility.
So Batman has Catwoman, in her catsuit, but she isn't naked, rubbing her fanny in Batman's face, and in games with hyper-stylized characters, it's true the woman are big titted and fat arsed.
But in Gears of War, the women are all fully clad in the same armor, in Space Marine, the lead female wears a standard army uniform and leads the last surviving platoon on the planet to victory (I assume, I'm like an hour into it).
Bayonetta takes the other extreme, the lead female has long legs and goes down to her underoos fairly often, but she kicks ass, kills demons, and not to mention the lead male character in the game is a spineless, whimpering reporter who is in love with her, who is frequently belittled and emasculated by the lead female.
Need I also paint out that for Lara to be assaulted, they used a man, a portrayal of a stereotype that men are sexually aggressive. Where are all the female rapists in computer games? I have never had the desire to rape or sexually assault anyone, but I realize that it isn't supposed to be representative of EVERY male or even human being in the world, it's one character, existing within the (rather bleak) realms of possibility.
It goes both ways.
That isn't to say ridiculously misogynistic games DON'T exist, of course they do, you just have to look at Tera or Lollipop Chainsaw, but both of those were met with such criticism for the objectification of women that it really shines a light on the issue.
Stupid, childish games are made for children who have never touched a woman in their life, and the minute they mature, they laugh at how pathetic it all is, and therein lies the point, we're not annoyed at the games themselves, we're annoyed at the imbecilic, sexist men that play these games and make comments to women that are ignorant and pathetic in equal measure.
So instead of getting angry at games, which have done, and are (for the most part) doing nothing wrong, how about you instead, as a collective group, publicly chastise every person you see actively being ignorant and discriminative.
Men, sick of being seen as the bad guy? Then stand up and show everyone that you don't agree with people who act like pathetic little virgins, and girls? Chill the fuck out already.
It's really not a big deal, and I'm fairly confident that games will continue to mature and allow us to engage in adult, rational thought, without the objectification of women.
Stupid, childish games are made for children who have never touched a woman in their life, and the minute they mature, they laugh at how pathetic it all is, and therein lies the point, we're not annoyed at the games themselves, we're annoyed at the imbecilic, sexist men that play these games and make comments to women that are ignorant and pathetic in equal measure.
So instead of getting angry at games, which have done, and are (for the most part) doing nothing wrong, how about you instead, as a collective group, publicly chastise every person you see actively being ignorant and discriminative.
Men, sick of being seen as the bad guy? Then stand up and show everyone that you don't agree with people who act like pathetic little virgins, and girls? Chill the fuck out already.
It's really not a big deal, and I'm fairly confident that games will continue to mature and allow us to engage in adult, rational thought, without the objectification of women.
Oh for fuck sake...
Tuesday, 29 May 2012
The meaning of life and lack thereof
So I understand that most of the time I talk about fairly heavy subjects, and honestly, that's probably not going to end here.
I have often considered the thought of me going onto stage, almost a kind of stand-up comedy act. The thought is less daunting and more being bothered to actually go through the due process of getting everything to set up to do so.
Anyway, I doubt it would have jokes so much as just simple observation, and one topic that I have always felt I could describe in a clear way is the meaning of life, and all that bunkum, so this is the closest example of what you'd get to me on a stage would be like, and I guess therein lies that projection of whether you think I should go on stage or not. I digress.
The meaning of life centers very much upon one's perception of "life". The way you look upon the reasons for your being greatly affects your ability to grasp such answers. And that's why I think life should always be equated to a party.
And I don't mean a party specifically tailored to one thing like drugs and underage sex, but lord of the dungeons of dragons faggotry as well, just what you perceive to be a bog standard, normal party for you.
Except this one has 7 billion people, give or take.
Now, you're at this party, you're there, you don't know why, but everything is familiar to you, and you're perfectly decked out to engage with this party.
Do you ask "Why am I here?" or do you just get right fucking on partying hard, you have guys to party with, girls to party with, guys and guys, girls and sexy fucking girls, everywhere for you to party with.
You only ever ask "Why am I here?" at a party when you feel like you aren't enjoying it, you're uncomfortable and you're worried about choking on roofies, and you know what? If you don't enjoy it, you can always leave this party, and that my friends, is called suicide.
But no, instead, at this party, you grab your guy, your girl, that for some reason, in a seemingly impossible correlation of chances and logistics, you can tolerate and she or he can deal with your shit scared lonely mind, and you go upstairs, and you fuck.
You fuck for hours with this one person who gets you in this giant, confusing, fucking epic party, over and over, you stop, you argue, you talk, you fuck more and more until you stop.
And the party's over.
And it was awesome.
Maybe, just maybe, our whole point of existence is based on a premise, that one premise that we are not here to do anything, we are not here to be anything, our life is an invitation to a party celebrating all fucking existence and it's majesty to be attended by each and all, every last fucking human being, equal.
And God?
Well God is Ferris Bueler, creating this chaos just for everyone else to just let go and enjoy themselves.
And God?
Well God is Ferris Bueler, creating this chaos just for everyone else to just let go and enjoy themselves.
At the end of it all, you go home, you enter the earth, and I don't see this as a slow rot, that's far too bleak a view. When we die we don't end, join the earth again, it's scientific fact. I see it as a person simply falling backwards into the ground as if it was liquid, and to me that's beautiful.
And then you're part of this planet, that is part of this entire universe, just how you started, rising from the ground, you were formed with parts of dying stars and dinosaurs, all this matter to build you, and now you've returned, one day you will be part of another being for all eternity as all reality warps before your eyes.
And so you're now sailing past the stars, existing in a small raindrop of a moment, at this party and you ask my "Why am I here?"
I would reply "Why would you want to ask?"
I would reply "Why would you want to ask?"
Saturday, 7 April 2012
Growing up isn't something to be scared of, in fact, I've never been enjoying life so much.
Look, as a kid, in school, I was always scared of growing up, getting a job, responsibility, kids, getting fat, not having as much sex, not having enough time to play the computer games I love, and to be fair, I couldn't be blamed for this outlook, and neither can you, if you are in that situation.
You often see comedians joking about their tragic jail sentence of a life, wife and kids, how much of an effort it all is and how they long to be young again, but honestly, in comparison, being young really, and truly, sucks. I stress the phrase 'in comparison', because on it's own, being a kid can be pretty awesome, but it all depends on perspective. I remember school through rose tinted glasses, but the fact I realize that I am only witnessing the 'Best Of' reel in my mind allows me to look beyond that, and what I see is BOREDOM. If you think about all the fun you had in school, also think about the fact that six hours of your day were spent in a classroom learning things that, for the most part, will be entirely useless as you grow up. All the while you're living under someone else's roof and under their rules. It's tough, but computer games, internet and occasional going out to embrace sunlight on your pale and sickly skin makes it seem awesome. Everyone has a summer that they remember fondly, if not more, but do you know why you remember it so fondly? Because it's a relief knowing you have no school, nothing weighing on your mind except from living your life and learning how to be a person. I have a theory for this that should help you picture what I mean. If you get a rubber band and pull it as far as it can go, it will fly miles away, but if you barely pull it, it'll barely move. Essentially, you only enjoy the free time as a kid so much because the rest of the time you're forced into doing and learning things you have no comprehension or control over, but just as the rubber band will slow and eventually fall, so will your free time seem normal and less special. As an adult, however, people sometimes have a tendency to never have that 'release' and as such, the rubber band will snap. You can burn yourself out as an adult, but there is more to that. When you leave school, and this is true for most people I know, you will stop playing computer games, or at least you will spend significantly less time doing so, and this is doubly true for RPG's and the like, because in an RPG, you can be who you want to be, you are in control of that character and you can shape your virtual self free of the constraints of your parents or school. Let me blow your mind with a rather obvious statement. Once you leave school, you are your own person. You don't need to play these games, the world is now open to you, you can do whatever you want. This is daunting, but exciting, and awesome. Some things won't change, but some things will, and it's not 100% great, as I said, but it gives you so much more freedom. It's all about perspective, and this is probably the most important lesson I can ever teach anyone because I can guarantee it will make life a lot easier and seem much less harsh. We look at bankers and the rich with detest, all of their money, living their life in fast cars and easy women. We say it's not fair and that we should all have those opportunities. Now look at the poor areas of the world, say Iraq or North Korea. How do you think they look at YOU, not our bankers, but you specifically. They have nothing, and you have a computer, internet connection, healthcare, money for food and entertainment, everything they could dream of, yet you're complaining? There's always going to be someone above you and someone below you, but it doesn't matter, you will find troubles in your world no matter what situation you are in, rich, poor, old or even, yes, young. Life is what you make of it. Pick causes to fight for that you stand a chance of influencing, but never let those causes stop you from enjoying the world. If you can't influence something, don't get involved, you're no good to anyone dead or used up. And I will leave you with something to think of. If you're genuinely scared of a lifetime with the person you are with, then you are not with the right person, it is that simple. Regardless of if it works out, if you are willing and ready to try without fear, then that's all you need. Glass half empty, glass half full, just remember that some people have neither the glass or the water to fill it.
You often see comedians joking about their tragic jail sentence of a life, wife and kids, how much of an effort it all is and how they long to be young again, but honestly, in comparison, being young really, and truly, sucks. I stress the phrase 'in comparison', because on it's own, being a kid can be pretty awesome, but it all depends on perspective. I remember school through rose tinted glasses, but the fact I realize that I am only witnessing the 'Best Of' reel in my mind allows me to look beyond that, and what I see is BOREDOM. If you think about all the fun you had in school, also think about the fact that six hours of your day were spent in a classroom learning things that, for the most part, will be entirely useless as you grow up. All the while you're living under someone else's roof and under their rules. It's tough, but computer games, internet and occasional going out to embrace sunlight on your pale and sickly skin makes it seem awesome. Everyone has a summer that they remember fondly, if not more, but do you know why you remember it so fondly? Because it's a relief knowing you have no school, nothing weighing on your mind except from living your life and learning how to be a person. I have a theory for this that should help you picture what I mean. If you get a rubber band and pull it as far as it can go, it will fly miles away, but if you barely pull it, it'll barely move. Essentially, you only enjoy the free time as a kid so much because the rest of the time you're forced into doing and learning things you have no comprehension or control over, but just as the rubber band will slow and eventually fall, so will your free time seem normal and less special. As an adult, however, people sometimes have a tendency to never have that 'release' and as such, the rubber band will snap. You can burn yourself out as an adult, but there is more to that. When you leave school, and this is true for most people I know, you will stop playing computer games, or at least you will spend significantly less time doing so, and this is doubly true for RPG's and the like, because in an RPG, you can be who you want to be, you are in control of that character and you can shape your virtual self free of the constraints of your parents or school. Let me blow your mind with a rather obvious statement. Once you leave school, you are your own person. You don't need to play these games, the world is now open to you, you can do whatever you want. This is daunting, but exciting, and awesome. Some things won't change, but some things will, and it's not 100% great, as I said, but it gives you so much more freedom. It's all about perspective, and this is probably the most important lesson I can ever teach anyone because I can guarantee it will make life a lot easier and seem much less harsh. We look at bankers and the rich with detest, all of their money, living their life in fast cars and easy women. We say it's not fair and that we should all have those opportunities. Now look at the poor areas of the world, say Iraq or North Korea. How do you think they look at YOU, not our bankers, but you specifically. They have nothing, and you have a computer, internet connection, healthcare, money for food and entertainment, everything they could dream of, yet you're complaining? There's always going to be someone above you and someone below you, but it doesn't matter, you will find troubles in your world no matter what situation you are in, rich, poor, old or even, yes, young. Life is what you make of it. Pick causes to fight for that you stand a chance of influencing, but never let those causes stop you from enjoying the world. If you can't influence something, don't get involved, you're no good to anyone dead or used up. And I will leave you with something to think of. If you're genuinely scared of a lifetime with the person you are with, then you are not with the right person, it is that simple. Regardless of if it works out, if you are willing and ready to try without fear, then that's all you need. Glass half empty, glass half full, just remember that some people have neither the glass or the water to fill it.
Monday, 26 March 2012
Cat friend.
Seems life has gotten a little too busy to make this a weekly thing. Shows how I treat my aspirations, unable to spare like ten minutes to type a blog. Rubbish. Still, here I am.
So it's been about four months since my cat, Dennis died. I was always worried beforehand that when he went I wouldn't think about him or I wouldn't be that affected. I was pretty convinced I was going to be neutral to it.
This terrified, and more, upset me, that something so close to me could disappear and I wouldn't care.
Well, as it turns out, I do care. Just under a week ago I had a dream about him. My parents asked me to look after him when they went on holiday, and so I took him back to my new flat and I was well excited, but then, of course, I woke up and there was no cat for me.
Now, this is sad I admit, and it had me down, but it also made me feel better about myself, because four months on I'm still thinking about him regularly, and I know he was a pet but he was my first pet that was around me since I was like 3 years old. He followed me everywhere and sat with me all the time, Mum and Dad would joke that he was my shadow.
When I went out for my morning coffee, though, I was greeted by Landmine, which is my nickname for the older of the two cats that live next door, a big fluffy gentleman. After a moment of caution, he let me pet him and he was purring and all that. Eventually I decided to let him come into my room by leaving the back door open (my bedroom is also the only way to the garden). He milled around my room for a bit and came to see me, checking out my bed and sofa, and then he left.
This was all I needed to know I want another cat in my life, because I guess now I feel that Dennis (my cat) was his own personality, and no other cat will ever replace him, but I shouldn't look for a replacement, because what I had was amazing and I was too focused on losing it, but when you're focused on the loss, you throw away all those years that you had a real best friend. What I should look for is a new friend, a different one, because I'll never forget Dennis, and knowing that he'll always be in my heart gives me the faith to move forward.
So it's been about four months since my cat, Dennis died. I was always worried beforehand that when he went I wouldn't think about him or I wouldn't be that affected. I was pretty convinced I was going to be neutral to it.
This terrified, and more, upset me, that something so close to me could disappear and I wouldn't care.
Well, as it turns out, I do care. Just under a week ago I had a dream about him. My parents asked me to look after him when they went on holiday, and so I took him back to my new flat and I was well excited, but then, of course, I woke up and there was no cat for me.
Now, this is sad I admit, and it had me down, but it also made me feel better about myself, because four months on I'm still thinking about him regularly, and I know he was a pet but he was my first pet that was around me since I was like 3 years old. He followed me everywhere and sat with me all the time, Mum and Dad would joke that he was my shadow.
When I went out for my morning coffee, though, I was greeted by Landmine, which is my nickname for the older of the two cats that live next door, a big fluffy gentleman. After a moment of caution, he let me pet him and he was purring and all that. Eventually I decided to let him come into my room by leaving the back door open (my bedroom is also the only way to the garden). He milled around my room for a bit and came to see me, checking out my bed and sofa, and then he left.
This was all I needed to know I want another cat in my life, because I guess now I feel that Dennis (my cat) was his own personality, and no other cat will ever replace him, but I shouldn't look for a replacement, because what I had was amazing and I was too focused on losing it, but when you're focused on the loss, you throw away all those years that you had a real best friend. What I should look for is a new friend, a different one, because I'll never forget Dennis, and knowing that he'll always be in my heart gives me the faith to move forward.
Thursday, 15 March 2012
GET OFF MY CASE!
So I said this would be a weekly blog, well that wasn't strictly a lie, just a lot of stuff has been going on in my little world the past few weeks.
I moved out and in with my parents, then out from my parents to a new place, then I fractured my toe by dropping a wardrobe on it (and then finished building it from an office chair, foot still pissing blood), and then I went to Gibraltar.
So, with all that in mind, it's been difficult for me to make any music or have any tangiable thoughts other than "ARGHSOMUCHNOISEINMYBRAINWHYWONTTHEVOICESSHUTUP?!" but the last few days I have been lovely and chilled.
And as such, the last couple of days, I made two new tracks, both of which I'm quite happy with. The first one was made by taking samples from the Batman Arkham City main theme, which is AWESOME, so I really didn't do it much justice to be honest, but some b-boys have taken interest in writing stuff to go over it, which is cool. It really feels good when other people get excited about my work.
Anyway, here's the link to that badger - http://soundcloud.com/woodsalt-soldier/tamban
The second track is actually one I've been meaning to try for quite some time. I wanted to make a similar kind of remix to Tamban (the Batman one), and so I set to thinking about orchestral scores I liked, and then I remembered I had the main theme from Gataca kicking around on my computer, which again, is a BEAUT.
I think the key with remixing stuff like this is to go completely the other direction with them, which I like to think I did by making a liquid drum and bass track out of it. It wasn't too hard, technically at least, I ran into a few problems and published a rubbish first draft, but now I've pretty much finished it and I much prefer it.
Here it is - http://soundcloud.com/woodsalt-soldier/garaticate
I think I've found a new style that I'd like to play with, so I'm going to think of some more soundtracks I enjoy and see what wizardry I can pull out of them. I was considering doing Pogo style vocals, that is to say, taking voice clips from the source material and chopping them up with pitch changes, but it's complex and honestly I think I'd rather develop my own sound.
Anyway, I must fly, I'm off to have a lovely day in the sun! HUZZAH!
Take it easy, readership of one. I love you x
I moved out and in with my parents, then out from my parents to a new place, then I fractured my toe by dropping a wardrobe on it (and then finished building it from an office chair, foot still pissing blood), and then I went to Gibraltar.
So, with all that in mind, it's been difficult for me to make any music or have any tangiable thoughts other than "ARGHSOMUCHNOISEINMYBRAINWHYWONTTHEVOICESSHUTUP?!" but the last few days I have been lovely and chilled.
And as such, the last couple of days, I made two new tracks, both of which I'm quite happy with. The first one was made by taking samples from the Batman Arkham City main theme, which is AWESOME, so I really didn't do it much justice to be honest, but some b-boys have taken interest in writing stuff to go over it, which is cool. It really feels good when other people get excited about my work.
Anyway, here's the link to that badger - http://soundcloud.com/woodsalt-soldier/tamban
The second track is actually one I've been meaning to try for quite some time. I wanted to make a similar kind of remix to Tamban (the Batman one), and so I set to thinking about orchestral scores I liked, and then I remembered I had the main theme from Gataca kicking around on my computer, which again, is a BEAUT.
I think the key with remixing stuff like this is to go completely the other direction with them, which I like to think I did by making a liquid drum and bass track out of it. It wasn't too hard, technically at least, I ran into a few problems and published a rubbish first draft, but now I've pretty much finished it and I much prefer it.
Here it is - http://soundcloud.com/woodsalt-soldier/garaticate
I think I've found a new style that I'd like to play with, so I'm going to think of some more soundtracks I enjoy and see what wizardry I can pull out of them. I was considering doing Pogo style vocals, that is to say, taking voice clips from the source material and chopping them up with pitch changes, but it's complex and honestly I think I'd rather develop my own sound.
Anyway, I must fly, I'm off to have a lovely day in the sun! HUZZAH!
Take it easy, readership of one. I love you x
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
This is now a music blog.
I discussed this a little while ago with my lovely lady partner, about actually putting this blog to some use, rather than for me to angrily masturbate my thoughts over a keyboard for no-body to view (then again, with sentences like that it may be best for people not to see this).
Regardless, as I've mentioned I tend to have a lot of free time and as such I have plenty of time to do musical stuff, but I tend to go a long time between making anything, and recently I've had a serious lull.
This is unfortunate, and it could be attributed to the fact I'm growing up, but with free time and waning interest in my one and only hobby (smoking doesn't count as a hobby), I need to really focus.
So, at least once a week I will update this blog with something new. It might be shitty, it might be unfinished, but it's something.
Hopefully this will help me practice and bring something new every time I attempt a track.
Now, you can't see behind the scenes but I have a handful of draft blogs yet to be finished. This is the same with my music. I have around five or six tracks I'm yet to do anything with, which is sirry, so I'm going to work on them and upload the results.
This week, however, I'm uploading something that I'm stuck on (as is the result of most of my musical endeavors). I set out to do a Pogo style remix of Donnie Darko, which is hands down my favorite film of all time.
What came out the other end, however, lacked the ethereal charm of Pogo and developed a dark quality of it's own.
This track (or more snippet) was made from a track called "Liquid Spear Waltz", composed for Donnie Darko, and is available on the (frankly stunning) soundtrack.
Anyway, enough babbling, I call this one "Dogo". It's far from complete, but honestly I think I backed myself into a wall here so I'm willing to let it sit as an example of how not to remix a track.
*IMPORTANT EDIT*
Turn your speakers WELL down, for some reason there is massive feedback for the first few seconds and it WILL rape your ears. You are warned.
http://www1.zippyshare.com/v/25660960/file.html
The feedback seemed to ruin the E.Q. of the whole track but I'm so passed the point of caring right now. I'm off to cry.
BYE BYE!
Regardless, as I've mentioned I tend to have a lot of free time and as such I have plenty of time to do musical stuff, but I tend to go a long time between making anything, and recently I've had a serious lull.
This is unfortunate, and it could be attributed to the fact I'm growing up, but with free time and waning interest in my one and only hobby (smoking doesn't count as a hobby), I need to really focus.
So, at least once a week I will update this blog with something new. It might be shitty, it might be unfinished, but it's something.
Hopefully this will help me practice and bring something new every time I attempt a track.
Now, you can't see behind the scenes but I have a handful of draft blogs yet to be finished. This is the same with my music. I have around five or six tracks I'm yet to do anything with, which is sirry, so I'm going to work on them and upload the results.
This week, however, I'm uploading something that I'm stuck on (as is the result of most of my musical endeavors). I set out to do a Pogo style remix of Donnie Darko, which is hands down my favorite film of all time.
What came out the other end, however, lacked the ethereal charm of Pogo and developed a dark quality of it's own.
This track (or more snippet) was made from a track called "Liquid Spear Waltz", composed for Donnie Darko, and is available on the (frankly stunning) soundtrack.
Anyway, enough babbling, I call this one "Dogo". It's far from complete, but honestly I think I backed myself into a wall here so I'm willing to let it sit as an example of how not to remix a track.
*IMPORTANT EDIT*
Turn your speakers WELL down, for some reason there is massive feedback for the first few seconds and it WILL rape your ears. You are warned.
http://www1.zippyshare.com/v/25660960/file.html
The feedback seemed to ruin the E.Q. of the whole track but I'm so passed the point of caring right now. I'm off to cry.
BYE BYE!
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
The one thing I hate more than SOPA is the c-holes that oppose it.
Okay, so that's not strictly true, S.O.P.A. infringes on free speech, something that we, in the western world have grown to take for granted, really.
Now, the people who peddle S.O.P.A. will have you believe that it's to prevent piracy, nothing more, no infringing on personal liberties, just to respect intellectual copyright, so people get paid for their hard work.
Of course, this would be fine, if the bill wasn't worded in such a way that it gives the U.S. Government the power to shut down any site it pleases with whatever airy-fairy reason they can find, for instance, this pithy little blog, because I spoke ill of them.
On the other hand, those who oppose S.O.P.A., myself included, will simply say that this is a power play for greed, and using one problem to control the entire internet and it's content, and in simple terms, S.O.P.A. (and it's sister bill, P.I.P.A.) are absolute bullshit.
The thing is, we've heard this from everyone, and I was under the impression that people were opposing S.O.P.A. because of this infringement on free speech and it's injustice. The issues S.O.P.A. bring up are pointless, and they do nothing to prevent or scare piracy.
But then I see this.
What, the actual fuck? The idea of stopping internet piracy is the single positive attribute of S.O.P.A., music, films, anything that is pirated was made by other people, their time and money have gone into it all. We cannot oppose it unless we show that we can police ourselves.
I honestly feel there is a need for some form of piracy prevention, I honestly do. I haven't pirated a movie, a game or even music for nigh on 4 years. The problem with S.O.P.A. is that it infringes on our given rights to have a voice, not that it means we can't download Madonna's new bobby shitheap of an album, or watch another rom-com wankfest free of charge.
I tell you this, if S.O.P.A. was perfectly worded to mean it restricted piracy, AND ONLY PIRACY, then I would be all for it.
Megaupload went down recently, and you know what? Good, fuck it, the owner knew exactly what it was there for, and what it was doing. Piracy is wrong, plain and simple, other people worked hard to produce what you're watching, and I'm not just talking about the up highs, the directors and the actors, because you know what? They aren't the ones taking the hit in pay, and all because you think that for some reason you deserve to receive their work free of charge? Since when did you all become so special that you were OWED films and movies?
This idea of "industry big-wigs trying to make money" is just something you have all made up to make you feel better about stealing.
You are stealing. That is exactly what you are doing.
I once heard the argument that it isn't stealing, that "If you had an apple, and I took it, that would be stealing, but if I made a copy of the apple, it wouldn't be, because you still have your apple".
Bullshit, it's called intellectual copyright. If I wrote a song, and then you copied it and I got nothing for my efforts, for that work, then what would you be?
You'd be a fucking thief.
That or Will.I.Am from the Black Eyed Peas.
Now, the people who peddle S.O.P.A. will have you believe that it's to prevent piracy, nothing more, no infringing on personal liberties, just to respect intellectual copyright, so people get paid for their hard work.
Of course, this would be fine, if the bill wasn't worded in such a way that it gives the U.S. Government the power to shut down any site it pleases with whatever airy-fairy reason they can find, for instance, this pithy little blog, because I spoke ill of them.
The thing is, we've heard this from everyone, and I was under the impression that people were opposing S.O.P.A. because of this infringement on free speech and it's injustice. The issues S.O.P.A. bring up are pointless, and they do nothing to prevent or scare piracy.
But then I see this.
What, the actual fuck? The idea of stopping internet piracy is the single positive attribute of S.O.P.A., music, films, anything that is pirated was made by other people, their time and money have gone into it all. We cannot oppose it unless we show that we can police ourselves.
I honestly feel there is a need for some form of piracy prevention, I honestly do. I haven't pirated a movie, a game or even music for nigh on 4 years. The problem with S.O.P.A. is that it infringes on our given rights to have a voice, not that it means we can't download Madonna's new bobby shitheap of an album, or watch another rom-com wankfest free of charge.
I tell you this, if S.O.P.A. was perfectly worded to mean it restricted piracy, AND ONLY PIRACY, then I would be all for it.
Megaupload went down recently, and you know what? Good, fuck it, the owner knew exactly what it was there for, and what it was doing. Piracy is wrong, plain and simple, other people worked hard to produce what you're watching, and I'm not just talking about the up highs, the directors and the actors, because you know what? They aren't the ones taking the hit in pay, and all because you think that for some reason you deserve to receive their work free of charge? Since when did you all become so special that you were OWED films and movies?
This idea of "industry big-wigs trying to make money" is just something you have all made up to make you feel better about stealing.
You are stealing. That is exactly what you are doing.
I once heard the argument that it isn't stealing, that "If you had an apple, and I took it, that would be stealing, but if I made a copy of the apple, it wouldn't be, because you still have your apple".
Bullshit, it's called intellectual copyright. If I wrote a song, and then you copied it and I got nothing for my efforts, for that work, then what would you be?
You'd be a fucking thief.
That or Will.I.Am from the Black Eyed Peas.
Sunday, 1 January 2012
Happy New oh fuck off.
Now I'm not a total grouch, I had a good time last night and all that jazz, but there is one thing that I absolutely abhor about parties, I mean aside from having to be around other functioning human beings.
I drive, so thus I become designated driver, so I drank a little bit to get my party on, but for some reason I wake up feeling like someone has wrapped a warm piss-drenched towel around my brain. That is the best description I can come up with for how I'm currently feeling. I mean, lets stay away from the fact my stomach is now twirling like a fucking whirlpool of bile and my throat is tighter than a virgin asshole, but my head, oh sweet fuck my head.
So yeah, my big deal is drinking to excess. I get it, it's fun and it helps people cut loose, but this morning? Fucking eugh. The thing is, I'm not actually hung over enough to be considered a proper train wreck, it's like when you get a minor cold, a sore throat and puffy eyes. It sucks balls but no-one gives you sympathy, and you can't help thinking "if only I had a spot of aids then people would pay me some damn attention". It's like that, I can't complain about being hungover (well I can and currently am, but shut up) because there are people that are far, far worse than me, like when I went to pick up fast food for my girlfriend last night.
So I pulled up next to the place at around 4am, which was weirdly still open, but fair play. I had barely taken the keys out of my door after locking my car when some guy bundles into the passenger side door. I look up at him, wondering just what the hell was going on, but even he has no clue, this guy is smashed, like Greek plate at a wedding smashed. He took out his phone and looked at it but I'm not entirely convince he knew that what he was holding was a modern piece of technology or a live python because he started spinning like a 5 year old after a sugar binge.
Anyway, I walk inside to the pizza place and I sit down for a bit, just watching the world go by when I hear a thud from outside, so I take a look through the window and the same guy is now unintentionally planking on my car. I thought I heard him hurl, but thank Zeus he didn't. I really wanted to say something, it seemed the perfect opportunity to punch someone in a fight I couldn't possibly lose, but I'm not like that, although I really, really wanted to.
I should point out that this was still at 4am where, aside from whoever was in the pizza place, literally no-one else was around, the streets were 100% empty, which isn't even an exaggeration. The only person I saw walking on the drive home was a guy who I watched steal 6 cans of coke from the same pizza place I was in.
On that note, as I watched him steal the drinks, I was pretty tempted to tell the pizza guy, whatever the technical name is. Pizza bro? I dunno. Heh, rhyme. Anyway, I was thinking of a way I could subtly say something without getting into a big thing, I just wanted my bed, but the thief turned and started talking to me, about what we had got up to that night. He seemed to find it funny that I barricade some dong-hole into a room with a stepladder. Oh yeah, that happened too, I forgot that. I'm an arsehole at times, but general consensus is that he's a bigger arsehole so fuck him.
So we shot the shit and some Amy Winehouse lookalike stumbled in, meaning not only did she look like a drug-addled sailor tramp but also like she was a 6 month old rotting corpse who started asking in some form of garbled baboon-English if they were still open, completely ignoring the 'open' sign, and the fact that people were in there, ordering food. We took the piss out of her, she was too smashed to even know what was going on, and I then took my leave with my food and went home.
I ate, I slept, I woke, and now I feel like a decade-old pickled shit.
Happy New Year none-existent readership!
I drive, so thus I become designated driver, so I drank a little bit to get my party on, but for some reason I wake up feeling like someone has wrapped a warm piss-drenched towel around my brain. That is the best description I can come up with for how I'm currently feeling. I mean, lets stay away from the fact my stomach is now twirling like a fucking whirlpool of bile and my throat is tighter than a virgin asshole, but my head, oh sweet fuck my head.
So yeah, my big deal is drinking to excess. I get it, it's fun and it helps people cut loose, but this morning? Fucking eugh. The thing is, I'm not actually hung over enough to be considered a proper train wreck, it's like when you get a minor cold, a sore throat and puffy eyes. It sucks balls but no-one gives you sympathy, and you can't help thinking "if only I had a spot of aids then people would pay me some damn attention". It's like that, I can't complain about being hungover (well I can and currently am, but shut up) because there are people that are far, far worse than me, like when I went to pick up fast food for my girlfriend last night.
So I pulled up next to the place at around 4am, which was weirdly still open, but fair play. I had barely taken the keys out of my door after locking my car when some guy bundles into the passenger side door. I look up at him, wondering just what the hell was going on, but even he has no clue, this guy is smashed, like Greek plate at a wedding smashed. He took out his phone and looked at it but I'm not entirely convince he knew that what he was holding was a modern piece of technology or a live python because he started spinning like a 5 year old after a sugar binge.
Anyway, I walk inside to the pizza place and I sit down for a bit, just watching the world go by when I hear a thud from outside, so I take a look through the window and the same guy is now unintentionally planking on my car. I thought I heard him hurl, but thank Zeus he didn't. I really wanted to say something, it seemed the perfect opportunity to punch someone in a fight I couldn't possibly lose, but I'm not like that, although I really, really wanted to.
I should point out that this was still at 4am where, aside from whoever was in the pizza place, literally no-one else was around, the streets were 100% empty, which isn't even an exaggeration. The only person I saw walking on the drive home was a guy who I watched steal 6 cans of coke from the same pizza place I was in.
On that note, as I watched him steal the drinks, I was pretty tempted to tell the pizza guy, whatever the technical name is. Pizza bro? I dunno. Heh, rhyme. Anyway, I was thinking of a way I could subtly say something without getting into a big thing, I just wanted my bed, but the thief turned and started talking to me, about what we had got up to that night. He seemed to find it funny that I barricade some dong-hole into a room with a stepladder. Oh yeah, that happened too, I forgot that. I'm an arsehole at times, but general consensus is that he's a bigger arsehole so fuck him.
So we shot the shit and some Amy Winehouse lookalike stumbled in, meaning not only did she look like a drug-addled sailor tramp but also like she was a 6 month old rotting corpse who started asking in some form of garbled baboon-English if they were still open, completely ignoring the 'open' sign, and the fact that people were in there, ordering food. We took the piss out of her, she was too smashed to even know what was going on, and I then took my leave with my food and went home.
I ate, I slept, I woke, and now I feel like a decade-old pickled shit.
Happy New Year none-existent readership!
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Australians.
Just a short one, this is a genuine interchange, unedited (aside for structure). I'm in blue, she's in orange.
"the UK is a broke shithole whos economy is in the toilet, and australia is a economic masterpiece whos dollar is worth more than the US$, with jobs a plenty, sun silked beaches, crystal blue water and amazing people
please dont refer to australia as ANYTHING close to the UK"
"We put you on the other side of the planet for a reason, sweetheart."
"haha the uk founded australia, and now has fuckall to do with it"
"Who would want to?"
"lol, the 18 million english who apply for a visa every year and get knocked back maybe? should not of sent your convicts to paradise :)
dont try to get into a debate with me about which country is better ull lose because u can see on every news stand and every website in the world europes economy is screwed england is broke the worlds falling apart
and australia is one of the only countries doing well"
"It's not like you can get much worse than convict-run shithole, and actually, your economy has been fucked for years, that, and the UK isn't involved in the European economy, so I guess your average intelligence isn't too grand either.
Also, there are just over 60 million people living in the UK, 1 in 3 do not apply for Australia, so you are also bullshit merchants, although that is hardly news.
So I guess I did just debate.
And I guess I won too.
A little like the ashes.
Thats right, sports too."
Unfortunately, she didn't reply.
"the UK is a broke shithole whos economy is in the toilet, and australia is a economic masterpiece whos dollar is worth more than the US$, with jobs a plenty, sun silked beaches, crystal blue water and amazing people
please dont refer to australia as ANYTHING close to the UK"
"We put you on the other side of the planet for a reason, sweetheart."
"haha the uk founded australia, and now has fuckall to do with it"
"Who would want to?"
"lol, the 18 million english who apply for a visa every year and get knocked back maybe? should not of sent your convicts to paradise :)
dont try to get into a debate with me about which country is better ull lose because u can see on every news stand and every website in the world europes economy is screwed england is broke the worlds falling apart
and australia is one of the only countries doing well"
"It's not like you can get much worse than convict-run shithole, and actually, your economy has been fucked for years, that, and the UK isn't involved in the European economy, so I guess your average intelligence isn't too grand either.
Also, there are just over 60 million people living in the UK, 1 in 3 do not apply for Australia, so you are also bullshit merchants, although that is hardly news.
So I guess I did just debate.
And I guess I won too.
A little like the ashes.
Thats right, sports too."
Unfortunately, she didn't reply.
Saturday, 24 December 2011
What a merry old twat I am.
Ok, so basically I've been palming off writing a new blog post for two reasons. One, because I can't be bothered sometimes, I have to be in a kind of writing mood to actually put pen to paper, or fingers to keys as it were.
The second reason, is the perhaps more embarrassing one that an IT consultant had forgotten both his login details and which e-mail account he used. Now this could be excused if I had, say, five or six e-mails, but the amount of e-mail addresses I use settle somewhere in the region between 1 and 3.
Now, the more sharp minded of you might have raised an eyebrow at such a ridiculous mishap, but it can be understood with the simplest of statements: I have been very stoned for the last week or so. I'm talking like two joints and a bong a day stoned, so while not completely dead, I've been in a comfy haze.
This came about because I quit my job a little while ago. My last shift was the 15th, so I woke up on the 16th (my birthday) free as a bird, which was possibly the best present I could have hoped for.
Oh yeah, I have a new job starting on the 1st of Jan, or at least that's when my contract begins. Better pay, better prospects and much better hours.
But the thing is, I had, and to be honest, still have, bugger all to do with my time. My lovely girlfriend is busy working, my flatmate working, and my other friend's home for the festivities, so with nothing to do and no-one to do it with, I may as well piss it away in a haze.
I figured I could be all creative and make some awesome music, but I'll be honest, drugs don't make music better. For all of the songs The Beatles wrote under the influence, every acid-induced ballad that came from Pink Floyd, were fine tuned and honed by groups of very sober writers and producers.
There are only so many sounds you can make with a guitar, or a keyboard or whatevs without effects. An electric guitar is just strings until you put it into an amp, and no-one listens to lyrics that intently anymore, you just need to look to Tinie Tempah for evidence of that ("I've got so many clothes I keep them at my aunt's house" is a personal favorite. Also, that is in context, it's a self contained sentence in the song).
As it turns out, I'm not a world famous singer, so I'm stuck trying to produce my own stuff, and while under the influence, it sounded awesome, but then again, whipped cream in mashed potato tasted awesome, so I can hardly be a judge of good quality when I'm baked.
The result was... interesting. It gave me a good insight into my stoned mind. The tracks all had an airy feeling and harmonized fine, that is to say, the notes all sat well with each other, but there was no structure, just... sound, fucking everywhere. I would get up in the morning to look at what I had made and just put my head in my hands looking at the jumbled mess that lay before me on the screen. It took me a good solid hour to put this into some basic format, but this one is called Daisy, and it's the only track that survived the purge:
http://www.jmmltd.com/Daisy.mp3
So yeah, it's a mess, essentially. This is what happens when a producer gets too stoned and tries to produce his own track, it's a mess.
Production, you see, isn't a case of being inventive or creative as much as it is precision engineering sound. Think of it as musical lego. If you asked someone caned and someone sober to build a house from lego, no doubt the sober person would make a solid house with doors and windows, and the caned person would make some mad creation, but who the fuck wants a house that breaks down the walls of perception? I want my damn walls to stay up, thanks, it's winter.
Anyway, that was a strained metaphor, as is the case with the majority of all my hypotheticals.
This being said, I'm not against drugs, so commence phase part déux of this blog, why marijuana should be legalised, and actively encouraged.
This, by the way, goes to both the needlessly restrained arseholes AND the douchebag potheads that support the legalisation. The reason for this, which is something that should be applied to ALL debates, is that it isn't a game of sides. This isn't sport, this isn't football, there are valid arguments on both sides.
I really want to segue onto politics here, but I shall restrain myself.
Firstly, this is a fact - weed is less damaging to the human body and mind than alcohol, and in itself as a substance, has precisely zero addictive qualities, being as addictive as, say, a carrot. You can find your own references for this, as this isn't a journal. Either take my word for it, or research it if you don't believe me.
So, it's less damaging to the system than alcohol. Which is legal. Now, you can't have one legal without the other one, so you have a choice, logically, to either ban both, or legalise both.
Now, the government gets a lot of it's funding from taxation of luxury goods, and even more with alcohol, so we won't see any bans on that any time soon. We enjoy alcohol, most of us in moderation. I was having a birthday lunch with my girlfriend and I made the point that while alcohol was freely available at any time of day, even then in working hours, nobody around was drunk, or at least excessively.
This shows we have restraint, we (mostly) understand our responsibilities and thus respect them. No-one was rowdy, getting into fights, throwing up, fucking on my meatballs (to be fair it was a small plate). We had the choice to get fucked up, but people chose to be responsible. Every. Last. One.
So this instantly negates the claim that if it was legal, people would just sit at home all day doing nothing being stoned. Bullshit. I smoke regularly and I'm currently under contract for an £18k job that will grow to £25k in 6 months. I both finish all my work, meet friends and pay rent. I have no criminal record.
The people who are potheads? Well you can abuse ANY substance. On Jeremy Kyle there was a woman who huffs like 5, 6 cans of butane a day. If people want to rely on something, they will find it.
Moving on, picture a Saturday night out on the lash on your standard high street. Drunk people screaming, singing, police presence, belligerence, all of this due to alcohol, a legal substance encouraged. Violent crimes committed all the damn time. I've even done a few myself. I can testify that alcohol can make you violent and act without any care to other people. I've even driven drunk, numerous times, because when drunk I think I'm invincible.
Let me put this simply - Alcohol turns otherwise nice people into complete cunts.
An evening out on weed? There isn't such a thing. You smoke weed, you just want to relax, talk, play games, watch a movie, just anything chilled. Fight? You're not fighting anyone, you love everything and you can't be bothered to move.
Now why is that illegal? At what point does that begin to make sense? So I'm allowed to drink copious amounts that cause me to go mental and act like a dick, but I'm not allowed to smoke alone or with friends and just relax?
Violent crime would drop in a damn instant.
And think of the money the country could be making! It's insane, if we regulated and taxed weed for it to be readily available, then think of all this extra income, think of the jobs, think of how much the youth of today would love you. We are all going to smoke anyway, with or without your approval.
It makes ZERO sense, not just to me, but at all in any form of logic, that marijuana is illegal. It is both detrimental to society and the economy.
Until you have smoked weed, you cannot judge. It is the definition of now knowing what you're talking about. You are not the authority on this subject. I am.
So shut up, and take a lungful of this. It might not broaden your mind, but hopefully it'll shut you the fuck up.
The second reason, is the perhaps more embarrassing one that an IT consultant had forgotten both his login details and which e-mail account he used. Now this could be excused if I had, say, five or six e-mails, but the amount of e-mail addresses I use settle somewhere in the region between 1 and 3.
Now, the more sharp minded of you might have raised an eyebrow at such a ridiculous mishap, but it can be understood with the simplest of statements: I have been very stoned for the last week or so. I'm talking like two joints and a bong a day stoned, so while not completely dead, I've been in a comfy haze.
This came about because I quit my job a little while ago. My last shift was the 15th, so I woke up on the 16th (my birthday) free as a bird, which was possibly the best present I could have hoped for.
Oh yeah, I have a new job starting on the 1st of Jan, or at least that's when my contract begins. Better pay, better prospects and much better hours.
But the thing is, I had, and to be honest, still have, bugger all to do with my time. My lovely girlfriend is busy working, my flatmate working, and my other friend's home for the festivities, so with nothing to do and no-one to do it with, I may as well piss it away in a haze.
I figured I could be all creative and make some awesome music, but I'll be honest, drugs don't make music better. For all of the songs The Beatles wrote under the influence, every acid-induced ballad that came from Pink Floyd, were fine tuned and honed by groups of very sober writers and producers.
There are only so many sounds you can make with a guitar, or a keyboard or whatevs without effects. An electric guitar is just strings until you put it into an amp, and no-one listens to lyrics that intently anymore, you just need to look to Tinie Tempah for evidence of that ("I've got so many clothes I keep them at my aunt's house" is a personal favorite. Also, that is in context, it's a self contained sentence in the song).
As it turns out, I'm not a world famous singer, so I'm stuck trying to produce my own stuff, and while under the influence, it sounded awesome, but then again, whipped cream in mashed potato tasted awesome, so I can hardly be a judge of good quality when I'm baked.
The result was... interesting. It gave me a good insight into my stoned mind. The tracks all had an airy feeling and harmonized fine, that is to say, the notes all sat well with each other, but there was no structure, just... sound, fucking everywhere. I would get up in the morning to look at what I had made and just put my head in my hands looking at the jumbled mess that lay before me on the screen. It took me a good solid hour to put this into some basic format, but this one is called Daisy, and it's the only track that survived the purge:
http://www.jmmltd.com/Daisy.mp3
So yeah, it's a mess, essentially. This is what happens when a producer gets too stoned and tries to produce his own track, it's a mess.
Production, you see, isn't a case of being inventive or creative as much as it is precision engineering sound. Think of it as musical lego. If you asked someone caned and someone sober to build a house from lego, no doubt the sober person would make a solid house with doors and windows, and the caned person would make some mad creation, but who the fuck wants a house that breaks down the walls of perception? I want my damn walls to stay up, thanks, it's winter.
Anyway, that was a strained metaphor, as is the case with the majority of all my hypotheticals.
This being said, I'm not against drugs, so commence phase part déux of this blog, why marijuana should be legalised, and actively encouraged.
This, by the way, goes to both the needlessly restrained arseholes AND the douchebag potheads that support the legalisation. The reason for this, which is something that should be applied to ALL debates, is that it isn't a game of sides. This isn't sport, this isn't football, there are valid arguments on both sides.
I really want to segue onto politics here, but I shall restrain myself.
Firstly, this is a fact - weed is less damaging to the human body and mind than alcohol, and in itself as a substance, has precisely zero addictive qualities, being as addictive as, say, a carrot. You can find your own references for this, as this isn't a journal. Either take my word for it, or research it if you don't believe me.
So, it's less damaging to the system than alcohol. Which is legal. Now, you can't have one legal without the other one, so you have a choice, logically, to either ban both, or legalise both.
Now, the government gets a lot of it's funding from taxation of luxury goods, and even more with alcohol, so we won't see any bans on that any time soon. We enjoy alcohol, most of us in moderation. I was having a birthday lunch with my girlfriend and I made the point that while alcohol was freely available at any time of day, even then in working hours, nobody around was drunk, or at least excessively.
This shows we have restraint, we (mostly) understand our responsibilities and thus respect them. No-one was rowdy, getting into fights, throwing up, fucking on my meatballs (to be fair it was a small plate). We had the choice to get fucked up, but people chose to be responsible. Every. Last. One.
So this instantly negates the claim that if it was legal, people would just sit at home all day doing nothing being stoned. Bullshit. I smoke regularly and I'm currently under contract for an £18k job that will grow to £25k in 6 months. I both finish all my work, meet friends and pay rent. I have no criminal record.
The people who are potheads? Well you can abuse ANY substance. On Jeremy Kyle there was a woman who huffs like 5, 6 cans of butane a day. If people want to rely on something, they will find it.
Moving on, picture a Saturday night out on the lash on your standard high street. Drunk people screaming, singing, police presence, belligerence, all of this due to alcohol, a legal substance encouraged. Violent crimes committed all the damn time. I've even done a few myself. I can testify that alcohol can make you violent and act without any care to other people. I've even driven drunk, numerous times, because when drunk I think I'm invincible.
Let me put this simply - Alcohol turns otherwise nice people into complete cunts.
An evening out on weed? There isn't such a thing. You smoke weed, you just want to relax, talk, play games, watch a movie, just anything chilled. Fight? You're not fighting anyone, you love everything and you can't be bothered to move.
Now why is that illegal? At what point does that begin to make sense? So I'm allowed to drink copious amounts that cause me to go mental and act like a dick, but I'm not allowed to smoke alone or with friends and just relax?
Violent crime would drop in a damn instant.
And think of the money the country could be making! It's insane, if we regulated and taxed weed for it to be readily available, then think of all this extra income, think of the jobs, think of how much the youth of today would love you. We are all going to smoke anyway, with or without your approval.
It makes ZERO sense, not just to me, but at all in any form of logic, that marijuana is illegal. It is both detrimental to society and the economy.
Until you have smoked weed, you cannot judge. It is the definition of now knowing what you're talking about. You are not the authority on this subject. I am.
So shut up, and take a lungful of this. It might not broaden your mind, but hopefully it'll shut you the fuck up.
Friday, 2 December 2011
Hey, dishwasher; shut the fuck up.
I live in a world filled with like a million and one different gadgets, all of which make a point of trying to grab my attention with stupid fucking noises.
Now, I can kind of understand this with like, say, a phone call, a real human on the other side of the line clamoring for my attention in their time of need, but today I noticed that apparently my dishwasher thinks I need to prioritise my time of porn and computer games underneath unloading the dishwasher.
Now, I don't have many friends so it isn't that hard to imagine my dishwasher has more plans than me, but is there a dinner party I wasn't aware of? Do I need to stuff a turkey and lay a table? Or get a table to lay, whatever, I'm a 22 year old man, the only things we care about on four legs can walk upright on two and make a mean sandwich.
If this isn't the case, then WHY WON'T YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP? It keeps beeping like every 10 minutes and really fucking loud too, I can hear it from my bedroom, where I am now, because like all men with days off in their twenties I spend it all on the internet. You're not my fucking mother, why do you insist on demanding I unload you?
Either technology is specifically being designed to be annoying as all hell or Skynet has become self aware. POP CULTURE REFERENCE LOL!
That gets me thinking, the hell is up with pop-culture references being the basis for all humour on television nowadays? Have we really run out of ideas? The only laughs to be gotten are from recognising the fact that other people have watched the same shit that you have. I'm unaware of why that is funny, unless you are Abed from Community, in which case continue because you are AWESOME.
People spend a lot of time bitching about re-runs on television, so why do we enjoy crappy re-enactments of catch phrases in other shows? It's like a perpetual sink-hole of parrot like repetition which gets up my pee-hole to no end.
Although, admittedly, things seem to get up my pee-hole rather easily. No homo.
Anyway, I have to leave for work in an hour and a half, so I'm getting my ass to the golden arches to get me a double cheese and diet coke, because find me another place you can get a decent burger and drink for £2.50.
And if you can, shut the fuck up, because I'm never wrong and you always are.
PEACE!
Now, I can kind of understand this with like, say, a phone call, a real human on the other side of the line clamoring for my attention in their time of need, but today I noticed that apparently my dishwasher thinks I need to prioritise my time of porn and computer games underneath unloading the dishwasher.
Now, I don't have many friends so it isn't that hard to imagine my dishwasher has more plans than me, but is there a dinner party I wasn't aware of? Do I need to stuff a turkey and lay a table? Or get a table to lay, whatever, I'm a 22 year old man, the only things we care about on four legs can walk upright on two and make a mean sandwich.
If this isn't the case, then WHY WON'T YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP? It keeps beeping like every 10 minutes and really fucking loud too, I can hear it from my bedroom, where I am now, because like all men with days off in their twenties I spend it all on the internet. You're not my fucking mother, why do you insist on demanding I unload you?
Either technology is specifically being designed to be annoying as all hell or Skynet has become self aware. POP CULTURE REFERENCE LOL!
That gets me thinking, the hell is up with pop-culture references being the basis for all humour on television nowadays? Have we really run out of ideas? The only laughs to be gotten are from recognising the fact that other people have watched the same shit that you have. I'm unaware of why that is funny, unless you are Abed from Community, in which case continue because you are AWESOME.
People spend a lot of time bitching about re-runs on television, so why do we enjoy crappy re-enactments of catch phrases in other shows? It's like a perpetual sink-hole of parrot like repetition which gets up my pee-hole to no end.
Although, admittedly, things seem to get up my pee-hole rather easily. No homo.
Anyway, I have to leave for work in an hour and a half, so I'm getting my ass to the golden arches to get me a double cheese and diet coke, because find me another place you can get a decent burger and drink for £2.50.
And if you can, shut the fuck up, because I'm never wrong and you always are.
PEACE!
The devil makes work for idle something or other.
Let's get this out of the way - I can be a very lazy man. I spend my days off in my pajamas (yes I have jammies, fuck you) until like 2pm where I have a half hour bath and smoke perhaps a little too much weed. My work is easy if a little tedious, and after both the trained baristas left work, I'm the most experienced coffee genie in the whole damn place.
What I'm saying is, I can press the fuck out of the 'coffee' button on the machine.
So my life is easy, money can be a little tight, but I'm 22 a year out of University and living away from home. That's a big step for me, my brother lived at home until he was 26. Essentially I'm saying I'm better than you.
However, as I mentioned, two of the bar staff have left, leaving just me (which would technically have made me the worst barista, but fuck you, coffee isn't my life), and as a result, my schedule next week is CRAZY.
Put it this way, I'm used to working the or four evening shifts a week, ranging between five and six hours, so that's, what, like twenty hours? I now have three morning shifts of seven hours, and two evening shifts of around six. Add onto that a day in London on Monday, full on 9-5 plus the commute, a job interview, I'm cat-sitting for the week AND my girlfriend is coming down.
Oh, and of course all my contract IT work.
You see, I get a lot of stick for how easy my life is, but the work I do, and I mean IT work because any fucking monkey can make a coffee, is work that only I can do. My flatmate often ridicules me for how ridiculous my IT pay is (£25 an hour thank you very much) but motherfucker, I earned that wage. I was a chubby nerd who was taught Pascal Programming at 10 years old, builind my own computer at 14 (well I had help but bitch, I bought the parts) and teaching myself both Flash, Photoshop and Dreamweaver at the same age.
When a laptop fucks up, an xbox won't connect, hell, a DVD player breaks down, I'm the one that gets the call. Did I mention I used to build my own circuit boards and design my own microchip programming? No? Well fuck you, I did, so show me a broken circuit board and I'll tell you what's wrong with it and how to go about fixing it, except I wont, because I can't be bothered.
But next week I am MAD busy, and I'm really, really, REALLY looking forward to it.
Having alone time is great, you know? But you only appreciate it when you spend most of your time around other people. I spend a lot of time around myself, and who can blame me, I'm awesome, but next week I'm actually needed. No other bar-staff, an interview with just me and literally a blank piece of paper to find me a place in the company (did I not mention that fact? I'm not going for a role, a set job, they are literally going to figure out where they want me, not IF. Pow).
I'm going to be dead by the end, but every day I get to come home to the lady, who I haven't seen in a while, and I cannot stress just how much I'm looking forward to this.
Then the money, I can get out of debt, I can stop stressing, I can be happy, and I have a cat again to hang about (side note: I still really miss my cat and think about him every day) and it's like a holiday to me.
So here's my final thought of this entry. What is a holiday? Is it a beach, a relaxing moment? Or is it living your life on the other side of the rails so you appreciate what you have?
Surely you should live in what makes you happy, and indulge in stress for a few moments in your life to appreciate what you have, than suffer a world of stress to have a few fleeting moments to remind you what you don't.
Sensei out.
What I'm saying is, I can press the fuck out of the 'coffee' button on the machine.
So my life is easy, money can be a little tight, but I'm 22 a year out of University and living away from home. That's a big step for me, my brother lived at home until he was 26. Essentially I'm saying I'm better than you.
However, as I mentioned, two of the bar staff have left, leaving just me (which would technically have made me the worst barista, but fuck you, coffee isn't my life), and as a result, my schedule next week is CRAZY.
Put it this way, I'm used to working the or four evening shifts a week, ranging between five and six hours, so that's, what, like twenty hours? I now have three morning shifts of seven hours, and two evening shifts of around six. Add onto that a day in London on Monday, full on 9-5 plus the commute, a job interview, I'm cat-sitting for the week AND my girlfriend is coming down.
Oh, and of course all my contract IT work.
You see, I get a lot of stick for how easy my life is, but the work I do, and I mean IT work because any fucking monkey can make a coffee, is work that only I can do. My flatmate often ridicules me for how ridiculous my IT pay is (£25 an hour thank you very much) but motherfucker, I earned that wage. I was a chubby nerd who was taught Pascal Programming at 10 years old, builind my own computer at 14 (well I had help but bitch, I bought the parts) and teaching myself both Flash, Photoshop and Dreamweaver at the same age.
When a laptop fucks up, an xbox won't connect, hell, a DVD player breaks down, I'm the one that gets the call. Did I mention I used to build my own circuit boards and design my own microchip programming? No? Well fuck you, I did, so show me a broken circuit board and I'll tell you what's wrong with it and how to go about fixing it, except I wont, because I can't be bothered.
But next week I am MAD busy, and I'm really, really, REALLY looking forward to it.
Having alone time is great, you know? But you only appreciate it when you spend most of your time around other people. I spend a lot of time around myself, and who can blame me, I'm awesome, but next week I'm actually needed. No other bar-staff, an interview with just me and literally a blank piece of paper to find me a place in the company (did I not mention that fact? I'm not going for a role, a set job, they are literally going to figure out where they want me, not IF. Pow).
I'm going to be dead by the end, but every day I get to come home to the lady, who I haven't seen in a while, and I cannot stress just how much I'm looking forward to this.
Then the money, I can get out of debt, I can stop stressing, I can be happy, and I have a cat again to hang about (side note: I still really miss my cat and think about him every day) and it's like a holiday to me.
So here's my final thought of this entry. What is a holiday? Is it a beach, a relaxing moment? Or is it living your life on the other side of the rails so you appreciate what you have?
Surely you should live in what makes you happy, and indulge in stress for a few moments in your life to appreciate what you have, than suffer a world of stress to have a few fleeting moments to remind you what you don't.
Sensei out.
Relationships are hard fucking work.
So I've been officially with my lady friend for around 4 months now officially (and by that I mean it's on Facebook, which is apparently law over all these kind of things) and I was seeing her for about two months before that. I think we can safely say the honeymoon period is over.
What makes this worse is, we're still as strong as the day we met, which tells me that, "holy shit, this is the one!"
Rejoice, right? Fuck no, she's the best thing that has ever happened to me. Do you know how many girls I've dated and told I've loved? ALL OF THEM. The thing is, to me at the time, it seemed like the natural progression of things, you know? When you're a kid, it's not like you can move in or get married, so there are really only three steps, first kiss, first fuck, first time saying those words.
I'll let you into a little secret about me. From a young age, around 11, I was always aware at how muted I can feel to certain things. It had played on my mind for a long, long time, and as you can imagine, this stuff messes with a young mind.
My brother's friend, who at the time was graduating from a psych major, focusing on young men and gaming, told my brother he was afraid I might be border-line emotionally retarded.
Now, if I could punch someone in the face for every time a psych major thought they were fucking Freud (which in itself is perhaps a Freudian concept depending on how you read that sentence you sick fuck. He's dead, that's illegal) then I'd be Bruce Willis at the end of Sin City. If you don't get what that means, go YouTube "Sin City: Take Away the Weapons". I'll wait.
Thing is, this kinda rang true. When my Dad had a heart attack, I watched the ambulance go without feeling anything at all, when my Mum went in to surgery to have a tumor removed, nothing. People kept trying to comfort me but I didn't feel a single damn thing.
As I grew up, I later discovered that I'm not emotionally retarded, but I'm just a typical male taken to extremes who bottles everything up. Weeks, maybe months after events happen, I would break down screaming, or someone would trigger it and I would lose all consciousness for a handful of minutes where I go into a violent rage.
The point is, I never felt anything until the crisis point, a breakup for instance, or a punch, or a particularly cutting line (like being accused of not caring that my Dad had a heart attack). When I tell people of these stories, they tend to take them as stories, or find them funny, even attempting to instigate one of these violent episodes, that is, until they experience them.
In my last year of uni, one of my housemates drove 100 miles home literally a couple of minutes after I exploded at him, punching holes in walls while my knuckles ran with blood screaming in his face. A few months later, a friend drunkenly started pushing and hitting me in a club to try and trigger the reaction, immediately being punched in the throat, thrown to the floor and pinned down with my foot.
My issues are not a joke, they're not stories, they are warnings. Joke with me, whatever, but do not fuck with me. I do not find it funny, and neither will you.
However, recently, it's been changing. I don't feel the rage building, but more I feel sadness. My cat died recently, after 20 years of life. He was my best friend in the whole damn world, that little furry fucker. He would sit on my bed for hours watching me on the PC, every now and then climbing on the very desk I use now and sleeping between my arms.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I have cried in excess of ten times thinking about him since his death. I'm not talking merely tears, but full on nervous breakdowns, unable to think for the gut-wrenching pain of loss.
I talk openly to my girl about these things, when I'm upset, I tell her. I have a vent, a way to explain myself without being judged.
I still have moments where I want to hit someone so hard the police can track my fingerprints on their face's, but they are more measured, more rational. She listens, she helps me feel less of a freak, and a little more human.
I have a lot of problems, some that nobody knows about and probably never will, but so does everyone else. All of these perceptions have been opened to me by this one, amazing person. I feel every emotion that was suppressed by years of computer games.
You see, the hard work isn't because she's hard work to be with, it's because I can't even conceive a world without her. She has made my life so much better and she will never even realise why, which is a good thing. The last thing I ever want her to see are my problems first hand, because they are scary and people are terrified by me after they happen.
She makes me so much better, and I feel bad acknowledging that, fuck, I need this girl. I rely on her far more than she relies on me. It's a little difficult to deal with sometimes, knowing I need her more than she needs me, but there it is.
Sometimes, just sometimes, hard work is worth it.
What makes this worse is, we're still as strong as the day we met, which tells me that, "holy shit, this is the one!"
Rejoice, right? Fuck no, she's the best thing that has ever happened to me. Do you know how many girls I've dated and told I've loved? ALL OF THEM. The thing is, to me at the time, it seemed like the natural progression of things, you know? When you're a kid, it's not like you can move in or get married, so there are really only three steps, first kiss, first fuck, first time saying those words.
I'll let you into a little secret about me. From a young age, around 11, I was always aware at how muted I can feel to certain things. It had played on my mind for a long, long time, and as you can imagine, this stuff messes with a young mind.
My brother's friend, who at the time was graduating from a psych major, focusing on young men and gaming, told my brother he was afraid I might be border-line emotionally retarded.
Now, if I could punch someone in the face for every time a psych major thought they were fucking Freud (which in itself is perhaps a Freudian concept depending on how you read that sentence you sick fuck. He's dead, that's illegal) then I'd be Bruce Willis at the end of Sin City. If you don't get what that means, go YouTube "Sin City: Take Away the Weapons". I'll wait.
Thing is, this kinda rang true. When my Dad had a heart attack, I watched the ambulance go without feeling anything at all, when my Mum went in to surgery to have a tumor removed, nothing. People kept trying to comfort me but I didn't feel a single damn thing.
As I grew up, I later discovered that I'm not emotionally retarded, but I'm just a typical male taken to extremes who bottles everything up. Weeks, maybe months after events happen, I would break down screaming, or someone would trigger it and I would lose all consciousness for a handful of minutes where I go into a violent rage.
The point is, I never felt anything until the crisis point, a breakup for instance, or a punch, or a particularly cutting line (like being accused of not caring that my Dad had a heart attack). When I tell people of these stories, they tend to take them as stories, or find them funny, even attempting to instigate one of these violent episodes, that is, until they experience them.
In my last year of uni, one of my housemates drove 100 miles home literally a couple of minutes after I exploded at him, punching holes in walls while my knuckles ran with blood screaming in his face. A few months later, a friend drunkenly started pushing and hitting me in a club to try and trigger the reaction, immediately being punched in the throat, thrown to the floor and pinned down with my foot.
My issues are not a joke, they're not stories, they are warnings. Joke with me, whatever, but do not fuck with me. I do not find it funny, and neither will you.
However, recently, it's been changing. I don't feel the rage building, but more I feel sadness. My cat died recently, after 20 years of life. He was my best friend in the whole damn world, that little furry fucker. He would sit on my bed for hours watching me on the PC, every now and then climbing on the very desk I use now and sleeping between my arms.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I have cried in excess of ten times thinking about him since his death. I'm not talking merely tears, but full on nervous breakdowns, unable to think for the gut-wrenching pain of loss.
I talk openly to my girl about these things, when I'm upset, I tell her. I have a vent, a way to explain myself without being judged.
I still have moments where I want to hit someone so hard the police can track my fingerprints on their face's, but they are more measured, more rational. She listens, she helps me feel less of a freak, and a little more human.
I have a lot of problems, some that nobody knows about and probably never will, but so does everyone else. All of these perceptions have been opened to me by this one, amazing person. I feel every emotion that was suppressed by years of computer games.
You see, the hard work isn't because she's hard work to be with, it's because I can't even conceive a world without her. She has made my life so much better and she will never even realise why, which is a good thing. The last thing I ever want her to see are my problems first hand, because they are scary and people are terrified by me after they happen.
She makes me so much better, and I feel bad acknowledging that, fuck, I need this girl. I rely on her far more than she relies on me. It's a little difficult to deal with sometimes, knowing I need her more than she needs me, but there it is.
Sometimes, just sometimes, hard work is worth it.
Thursday, 1 December 2011
The joys of self-employment
Back in my University days, I, like every other self-important douchebag with an afghan and Photoshop claimed I was a web designer, sometimes on days it suited me, a graphic designer.
I was studying English and American Literature, you see, so it wasn't like Law, where you have a direct career path, or at least a good idea of where to go with your degree. Truth is, I had created maybe a home page or two, and a handful of other graphics, but nothing that anyone had ever paid me for.
This, after graduation, meant I was unemployed. Armed with a second class degree and nothing else, I went to the Job Center to look for work and to collect my benefits. Twelve weeks passed with me going in every Tuesday to sign on, basically being told there was no work for someone with a degree, and with a degree the menial jobs won't employ me because they know I'll move on once a better opportunity arrived.
Towards the end, my Job Sensei (the actual title escapes me) revealed that if I could prove I was self employed, I could claim my £50 a week without having to sign on, giving me twelve weeks of uninterrupted free money.
I should probably tell you something here. When you feel the government screws you at every turn and is run by pompous arseholes, it becomes very hard to turn down free money from them. It feels justified.
Anyway, in that time, I decided that I should give proper web design a shot, so I talked to my Dad who is forever starting new companies, and after due process with Financial Directors and different boards, I was given the contract to build my first corporate website with a four figure sum.
This is when I discovered something - web design is BORING. I spent the majority of my time holed up in my room dealing with different shades of corporate blue and silver for the best part of 100 hours. My ability in Flash meant that I had something above most other faux-web designers, so I got away with it, and after a while, the site was finished, they approved, I got paid.
Then after that, to manage the website, I was given £250 a month on a year long contract. And then another website to design, and another contract. I was being called up to London for a few days a month to be an IT Consultant, or even a Marketing Executive whatever that meant, getting £80 a day and all expenses paid.
See, this sounds cool, but this money came, and comes at a price. Firstly, you actually have to work.
Anyone who knows me will realise that makes me sound like a giant hypocrite, but if I'm honest it took me nearly an entire month to even open Dreamweaver (a web design program) to get started*. I just needed that one time and I was off, but for all that time, I was in my room, absorbed in the work. I had no co-workers to talk to, nothing. I was living off my own back.
The problem with this is, it makes you a unrelenting piece of shit to your friends. You're an adult now, you're making money your way when they're still serving drinks behind a bar to random people who don't give a shit about them, where your work is appreciated.
But it's not worth it, it turns you into a monster, an arrogant bastard who prioritises himself above others and thinks the world revolves around him. I was there, and at times I still am there. It cost me a lot of friends and a lot of decisions I regret. Some people are impressed with what I did in those times, but I'm not. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. There is only one good thing that came out of that process, and it's coming down to stay for a week this Tuesday.
The result? Balance. I now work at an independent coffee shop and restaurant part time, about 20 hours a week. I supplement my income with my web work, but my 4 shifts ensure I'm around people who aren't afraid to tell me to shut up. It keeps me balanced and sane.
I guess my point is, self employment isn't cool, it isn't better than anyone else's menial job. There are a few people I've met at work who I consider to be far better people than me who live on far less.
Self employment may as well mean self involved, I just wish I could go back to my University self and tell him that everyone can see right through his bullshit.
*I should probably point out that this entire blog post is procrastination from work I was given three days ago.
I was studying English and American Literature, you see, so it wasn't like Law, where you have a direct career path, or at least a good idea of where to go with your degree. Truth is, I had created maybe a home page or two, and a handful of other graphics, but nothing that anyone had ever paid me for.
This, after graduation, meant I was unemployed. Armed with a second class degree and nothing else, I went to the Job Center to look for work and to collect my benefits. Twelve weeks passed with me going in every Tuesday to sign on, basically being told there was no work for someone with a degree, and with a degree the menial jobs won't employ me because they know I'll move on once a better opportunity arrived.
Towards the end, my Job Sensei (the actual title escapes me) revealed that if I could prove I was self employed, I could claim my £50 a week without having to sign on, giving me twelve weeks of uninterrupted free money.
I should probably tell you something here. When you feel the government screws you at every turn and is run by pompous arseholes, it becomes very hard to turn down free money from them. It feels justified.
Anyway, in that time, I decided that I should give proper web design a shot, so I talked to my Dad who is forever starting new companies, and after due process with Financial Directors and different boards, I was given the contract to build my first corporate website with a four figure sum.
This is when I discovered something - web design is BORING. I spent the majority of my time holed up in my room dealing with different shades of corporate blue and silver for the best part of 100 hours. My ability in Flash meant that I had something above most other faux-web designers, so I got away with it, and after a while, the site was finished, they approved, I got paid.
Then after that, to manage the website, I was given £250 a month on a year long contract. And then another website to design, and another contract. I was being called up to London for a few days a month to be an IT Consultant, or even a Marketing Executive whatever that meant, getting £80 a day and all expenses paid.
See, this sounds cool, but this money came, and comes at a price. Firstly, you actually have to work.
Anyone who knows me will realise that makes me sound like a giant hypocrite, but if I'm honest it took me nearly an entire month to even open Dreamweaver (a web design program) to get started*. I just needed that one time and I was off, but for all that time, I was in my room, absorbed in the work. I had no co-workers to talk to, nothing. I was living off my own back.
The problem with this is, it makes you a unrelenting piece of shit to your friends. You're an adult now, you're making money your way when they're still serving drinks behind a bar to random people who don't give a shit about them, where your work is appreciated.
But it's not worth it, it turns you into a monster, an arrogant bastard who prioritises himself above others and thinks the world revolves around him. I was there, and at times I still am there. It cost me a lot of friends and a lot of decisions I regret. Some people are impressed with what I did in those times, but I'm not. If I could take it all back, I would in a heartbeat. There is only one good thing that came out of that process, and it's coming down to stay for a week this Tuesday.
The result? Balance. I now work at an independent coffee shop and restaurant part time, about 20 hours a week. I supplement my income with my web work, but my 4 shifts ensure I'm around people who aren't afraid to tell me to shut up. It keeps me balanced and sane.
I guess my point is, self employment isn't cool, it isn't better than anyone else's menial job. There are a few people I've met at work who I consider to be far better people than me who live on far less.
Self employment may as well mean self involved, I just wish I could go back to my University self and tell him that everyone can see right through his bullshit.
*I should probably point out that this entire blog post is procrastination from work I was given three days ago.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Dealing with (people who claim to have) depression.
Lets get this out of the way, I'm a diagnosed depressive. I have a sunlamp and a prescription which I never picked up due to a long history of addiction in my family. That's about as far as I'm going to go.
Another thing to get out of the way. People who outwardly proclaim to have depression, don't. I'm talking about that one dickhead who starts a conversation with "I'm so depressed".
Whenever someone proclaims this out loud, slap them around the face, hard and tell them to shut the fuck up because lies make baby Jesus cry. Anyone who is genuinely depressed hates being around people. They want to hide away from the world and be absorbed into the black hole building inside their sanity. They don't want to discuss it, they're ashamed of it, scared to admit it, admit that they have a genuine mental disorder and need help.
Whenever someone claims to have depression within a social context, then I'd be willing to bet they don't, and they just want some attention for being 'dark' and 'broody' (or 'a cunt' and 'faggoty' respectively). I didn't tell my parents for two years, and only because they grew convinced I was going to kill myself. I only told my work after 5 months because it was getting too much and the last shift I had a nervous breakdown.
Also, I didn't follow it with a fucking story about why "I'm so depressed", and you know why? Because depression isn't fucking tangible, it's impossible to explain, it's a void that has no reason of being. You think for hours on end about what could be wrong, to realise you have no problems that are unique to you. You realise that you have no reason to feel this bad, you feel selfish, you hate yourself for being so self absorbed when there is so much tragedy going on in the world.
That's depression, not the fact money is tight, or the boy you like isn't interested in you. Even severe loss isn't depression, it's grief. If your parents died, you wouldn't kill yourself. People watch their children die, they don't kill themselves, they grieve and internalise their pain.
They don't tell everybody loud and proud like they're so different.
So the next time someone claims to be depressed like that? Tell them they make me sick to my stomach, and I sincerely hope that they aren't bluffing.
Another thing to get out of the way. People who outwardly proclaim to have depression, don't. I'm talking about that one dickhead who starts a conversation with "I'm so depressed".
Whenever someone proclaims this out loud, slap them around the face, hard and tell them to shut the fuck up because lies make baby Jesus cry. Anyone who is genuinely depressed hates being around people. They want to hide away from the world and be absorbed into the black hole building inside their sanity. They don't want to discuss it, they're ashamed of it, scared to admit it, admit that they have a genuine mental disorder and need help.
Whenever someone claims to have depression within a social context, then I'd be willing to bet they don't, and they just want some attention for being 'dark' and 'broody' (or 'a cunt' and 'faggoty' respectively). I didn't tell my parents for two years, and only because they grew convinced I was going to kill myself. I only told my work after 5 months because it was getting too much and the last shift I had a nervous breakdown.
Also, I didn't follow it with a fucking story about why "I'm so depressed", and you know why? Because depression isn't fucking tangible, it's impossible to explain, it's a void that has no reason of being. You think for hours on end about what could be wrong, to realise you have no problems that are unique to you. You realise that you have no reason to feel this bad, you feel selfish, you hate yourself for being so self absorbed when there is so much tragedy going on in the world.
That's depression, not the fact money is tight, or the boy you like isn't interested in you. Even severe loss isn't depression, it's grief. If your parents died, you wouldn't kill yourself. People watch their children die, they don't kill themselves, they grieve and internalise their pain.
They don't tell everybody loud and proud like they're so different.
So the next time someone claims to be depressed like that? Tell them they make me sick to my stomach, and I sincerely hope that they aren't bluffing.
The phrase 'taste in music' is stupid, and this is why.
Firstly, you don't taste music, you hear it. You taste food, you have a 'taste in food', not a 'hear in food'. What stupid bastard came up with that?
Secondly, the idea of a 'taste in music' really perturbs me. When you're in school, music is just like fashion, you are judged on your tastes (for fuck sake). If you're a grunge, then you listen to punk, a plastic trendy, pop music, you don't have a choice, you don't have a taste in music, you have a fashion accessory for your ears that you can tell people about.
Now I can get this, school is a hard time and it becomes your life the minute you step into preschool. You can't forever be at odds with the people you spend the majority of your waking hours around. Like prison, find a niché that you find fit you closest and you stick with them fervently to avoid being raped in the showers by that guy behind the music room who never did call me back... I'm sorry, what?
Once you leave though, you have no excuse, you are free from these shackles to discover whatever audible delights you fancy, but you still find people, many, many people, who restrict themselves to genre.
I frequently hear people say "I like everything except for country". I'm not entirely sure how much country you have listened to, but I expect it is none, because you clearly don't appreciate the historical influence that country has had on the world.
You like rock? A bit of My Chemical Romance? Maybe a little bit of The Beatles? Well all of that started with country music you fucking neanderthals.
You have no reason to condemn music by genre, it's stereotyping, like saying all black people are criminals, or that Asians are terrible drivers (also, why is Asian a forced capital, but black isn't? BLOGGER IS RACIST!). Music is music, give it a damn listen.
Even folk music is very tightly linked to country, I'm talking Fleet Foxes, Simon and Garfunkel, even Mumford and Sons, all have their roots in country music.
You don't have to like all of it, but you can still listen to some and like some. I dislike the majority of gangster rap but I still find myself nodding to Notorious B.I.G.
I'm not going to say I'm better than you, I'm just saying you're far fucking worse than I am.
Secondly, the idea of a 'taste in music' really perturbs me. When you're in school, music is just like fashion, you are judged on your tastes (for fuck sake). If you're a grunge, then you listen to punk, a plastic trendy, pop music, you don't have a choice, you don't have a taste in music, you have a fashion accessory for your ears that you can tell people about.
Now I can get this, school is a hard time and it becomes your life the minute you step into preschool. You can't forever be at odds with the people you spend the majority of your waking hours around. Like prison, find a niché that you find fit you closest and you stick with them fervently to avoid being raped in the showers by that guy behind the music room who never did call me back... I'm sorry, what?
Once you leave though, you have no excuse, you are free from these shackles to discover whatever audible delights you fancy, but you still find people, many, many people, who restrict themselves to genre.
I frequently hear people say "I like everything except for country". I'm not entirely sure how much country you have listened to, but I expect it is none, because you clearly don't appreciate the historical influence that country has had on the world.
You like rock? A bit of My Chemical Romance? Maybe a little bit of The Beatles? Well all of that started with country music you fucking neanderthals.
You have no reason to condemn music by genre, it's stereotyping, like saying all black people are criminals, or that Asians are terrible drivers (also, why is Asian a forced capital, but black isn't? BLOGGER IS RACIST!). Music is music, give it a damn listen.
Even folk music is very tightly linked to country, I'm talking Fleet Foxes, Simon and Garfunkel, even Mumford and Sons, all have their roots in country music.
You don't have to like all of it, but you can still listen to some and like some. I dislike the majority of gangster rap but I still find myself nodding to Notorious B.I.G.
I'm not going to say I'm better than you, I'm just saying you're far fucking worse than I am.
My constant battle with opinion.
When your spend your entire life seeing the world through one set of eyes, it becomes very hard to believe that other people's perceptions are valid.
Put it this way, if someone held up and apple and told you it was... fuck, that's a bad example, an apple can be nearly any colour. Alright, say if someone told you a tree was made of carrots, you'd instantly disregard it because you've lived your world thinking it was made of... well, wood. Are trees made of wood if they are wood? That's one for Philociraptor.
So when I grow up thinking rap music is all terrible and talentless, it gets very hard to listen to a track without instantly recognising it as rap, and then associating it with being terrible.
The thing is, I can be, and often am, in the wrong.
I thought dubstep was terrible, and that was mainly because of how huge it became with 'students' (and by that I mean people who go to college to be a student, not to study), so I instantly associated it with attention grabbing fuck-nuts.
This morning a link was posted on my friend's Facebook wall, and I clicked on it. I instantly recognised the logo to be that of a dubstep Youtube channel, so I clicked off.
A little while later, it began playing for some reason. I didn't realise that it was the video, I assumed it was my Spotify account, playing my immaculate and unbeatable playlists. The tune was an absolute banger, and then I realised it;
Dear God, I like dubstep.
This now meant that I disagreed with a notion I had held for years. It was scary accepting that to myself, that I was wrong.
It wasn't embarrassment towards anyone else, it wasn't that people would judge me for my music taste (because that is, frankly, a pursuit followed exclusively by pathetic cunts), it was the notion that, holy shit, I could have been wrong and judgmental about a whole myriad of things.
Now this is a harrowing realisation for the inherently arrogant, that you aren't perfect, that you aren't the one true mind in the world. Knowing that you are flawed is both comforting and terrible. Suddenly things can go wrong and I won't be confused how, but now I'm not in total control, I could flip at any time I wouldn't know.
Anyway, I'm going to have to cut this short because I have work, but these thoughts, no doubt, shall continue.
Put it this way, if someone held up and apple and told you it was... fuck, that's a bad example, an apple can be nearly any colour. Alright, say if someone told you a tree was made of carrots, you'd instantly disregard it because you've lived your world thinking it was made of... well, wood. Are trees made of wood if they are wood? That's one for Philociraptor.
So when I grow up thinking rap music is all terrible and talentless, it gets very hard to listen to a track without instantly recognising it as rap, and then associating it with being terrible.
The thing is, I can be, and often am, in the wrong.
I thought dubstep was terrible, and that was mainly because of how huge it became with 'students' (and by that I mean people who go to college to be a student, not to study), so I instantly associated it with attention grabbing fuck-nuts.
This morning a link was posted on my friend's Facebook wall, and I clicked on it. I instantly recognised the logo to be that of a dubstep Youtube channel, so I clicked off.
A little while later, it began playing for some reason. I didn't realise that it was the video, I assumed it was my Spotify account, playing my immaculate and unbeatable playlists. The tune was an absolute banger, and then I realised it;
Dear God, I like dubstep.
This now meant that I disagreed with a notion I had held for years. It was scary accepting that to myself, that I was wrong.
It wasn't embarrassment towards anyone else, it wasn't that people would judge me for my music taste (because that is, frankly, a pursuit followed exclusively by pathetic cunts), it was the notion that, holy shit, I could have been wrong and judgmental about a whole myriad of things.
Now this is a harrowing realisation for the inherently arrogant, that you aren't perfect, that you aren't the one true mind in the world. Knowing that you are flawed is both comforting and terrible. Suddenly things can go wrong and I won't be confused how, but now I'm not in total control, I could flip at any time I wouldn't know.
Anyway, I'm going to have to cut this short because I have work, but these thoughts, no doubt, shall continue.
'Occupy' need to shut the fuck up.
If you've ever sat down and pondered on the injustice in the world, thinking "why does so much wrong occur?" then let me explain something to you.
Every human being on this planet has the capacity to be, and is guaranteed to be repeatedly, a giant fucking arsehole.
Co-ersively we can all be good, this is a two way street, but if you think for a second we can all get along and live in harmony, then you, my friend, are at the bottom of the food chain.
Human beings are animals, gifted with the ability of thought, although some more than others it would seem, but we seem transfixed on this whole idea of the '1%' being really rich and in power, while us 99% live in squalor. Life sure is hard in our world, isn't it? So who can blame the people setting up camp and protesting?
Well, me for a start, because it's stupid and achieves nothing. Do you really think people don't know corruption exists? If you are that condescending to think that the average Joe on the street doesn't know that ther are having money taken from their deserving hands by at least one other person, then you're just as bad as the bankers.
And look around, take in your country, your surroundings through fresh eyes. If I look around my room, I'm typing on my computer with a double bed and a view of my car parked outside. It's missing 4 hubcaps and has a few dents, but still, it runs and plays music through my smart phone.
I eat perhaps a little too much and spend too much time vegetating in front of the TV with my Xbox or Wii, or playing one of my two guitars.
Thing is, I don't even earn enough to be taxed, and I'm not claiming benefits. Shit can be tough sometimes, yeah, but life is pretty good when I look around.
If some wanky banker type needs to validate himself with billions of pounds, then fine, whatever.
My friend, currently unemployed, not only has his rent and council tax covered by the government, but he also is given £55 spending money a week.
Yeah, I imagine some people are getting screwed and fired, but cut the wine and the dvd's and re-adjust.
We're never going to cure corruption, we're all guilty of it, but if you can take the time out to camp in the middle of the street and still go home to a warm room and food, then fuck you, there are people that camp in the street and don't get to do that, because they don't have homes.
That time you're spending, telling us how you're getting screwed? That could be time spent helping the homeless, or at an old people's home, doing some good.
But that isn't cool, is it?
Fuck you all. From the bottom of my heart, you make me fucking sick, every last one of you.
Every human being on this planet has the capacity to be, and is guaranteed to be repeatedly, a giant fucking arsehole.
Co-ersively we can all be good, this is a two way street, but if you think for a second we can all get along and live in harmony, then you, my friend, are at the bottom of the food chain.
Human beings are animals, gifted with the ability of thought, although some more than others it would seem, but we seem transfixed on this whole idea of the '1%' being really rich and in power, while us 99% live in squalor. Life sure is hard in our world, isn't it? So who can blame the people setting up camp and protesting?
Well, me for a start, because it's stupid and achieves nothing. Do you really think people don't know corruption exists? If you are that condescending to think that the average Joe on the street doesn't know that ther are having money taken from their deserving hands by at least one other person, then you're just as bad as the bankers.
And look around, take in your country, your surroundings through fresh eyes. If I look around my room, I'm typing on my computer with a double bed and a view of my car parked outside. It's missing 4 hubcaps and has a few dents, but still, it runs and plays music through my smart phone.
I eat perhaps a little too much and spend too much time vegetating in front of the TV with my Xbox or Wii, or playing one of my two guitars.
Thing is, I don't even earn enough to be taxed, and I'm not claiming benefits. Shit can be tough sometimes, yeah, but life is pretty good when I look around.
If some wanky banker type needs to validate himself with billions of pounds, then fine, whatever.
My friend, currently unemployed, not only has his rent and council tax covered by the government, but he also is given £55 spending money a week.
Yeah, I imagine some people are getting screwed and fired, but cut the wine and the dvd's and re-adjust.
We're never going to cure corruption, we're all guilty of it, but if you can take the time out to camp in the middle of the street and still go home to a warm room and food, then fuck you, there are people that camp in the street and don't get to do that, because they don't have homes.
That time you're spending, telling us how you're getting screwed? That could be time spent helping the homeless, or at an old people's home, doing some good.
But that isn't cool, is it?
Fuck you all. From the bottom of my heart, you make me fucking sick, every last one of you.
Black Levi's 501's
Weird title, right? Well it was in my auto-fill section, and it got me thinking why I pay out the ass for a nice pair of jeans?
I'm not a man of fashion, it has to be said, my favorite clothes are my afghan scarf and green cargo pants. I look like a giant skater kid, but I'm comfy, although it should be said, I rock the holy shit out of a suit. Woof.
Anyway, I worked out it's been over a year since I bought a pair of jeans. My last pair were 34 inch blue Levi 501's, straight, and I rock those bad boys with a good pair of Chelsea boots. The waist goes pretty high, but James Dean used to wear them like that and the bitches loved his shit, aww ch'yeah.
Digressing, the reason why it's been so long is that they cost like £50 for a pair. Now, I know I could just got get a cheap pair, but they don't fit very well and look a bit crappy.
Also, I'm well aware of the apparent hypocrisy when you compare this post to the one before, but being a man doesn't mean I can't care how I look, just I care more about getting vagina than being one.
Still, why is denim so expensive? Or even labels? It's irritating, I mean Levi's are like the one brand that I would happily buy over and over, because their products are good, comfortable and look cool, but still, expensive.
I'm unaware of the overheads, I guess, I suppose little Indonesian slave children charge a fair wage for their labour.
That's another thing, actually, those fucking NSPCC adverts or Red Cross, which ever ones focus on Africa or whatever. YOUR ADVERTS DON'T WORK.
I don't know what it's like in Africa or whatever (which is now a founded nation in my dictionary, encompassing anything that isn't first world, and if you get offended, fuck you, don't pretend like you know the intricate differences between countries), in my world I was brought up with running water, not running bowels, I have no context.
I'm sure it's sad and terrible, but I honestly couldn't give less of a shit. This doesn't make me evil, this makes me honest. If it was happening on my back door, then yeah, I'd care, I'd pick up arms and shoot some motherfuckers, glock glock fo' rizzle, but it's not.
If you want me to feel anything, then show me what it would be like in my world, show me a reality where I have to live like them, not some crying children.
Seriously, stop showing me crying children, if I wanted to see that, I'd join the church.
People come up to me in the street all the time asking me to donate, and my girlfriend thinks I'm mean for telling them in a variety of colourful ways to peddle their bullshit elsewhere, but they get paid, more than I do, and they're asking for my money? Fuck them, honesty is massively important to me, and I see right through their shit-eating facade of care.
Tell me this, when was the last time someone came up to you in the street to ask for you to volunteer? If someone asked you to volunteer to give food to the homeless, or to donate blankets and food, would you really tell them to jump? Those are tangible things that we can see helping.
But of course, that's not the case, even aid is all about money money fucking money.
And if I'm paying any money for anything, it better look amazing on my ass.
No homo.
I'm not a man of fashion, it has to be said, my favorite clothes are my afghan scarf and green cargo pants. I look like a giant skater kid, but I'm comfy, although it should be said, I rock the holy shit out of a suit. Woof.
Anyway, I worked out it's been over a year since I bought a pair of jeans. My last pair were 34 inch blue Levi 501's, straight, and I rock those bad boys with a good pair of Chelsea boots. The waist goes pretty high, but James Dean used to wear them like that and the bitches loved his shit, aww ch'yeah.
Digressing, the reason why it's been so long is that they cost like £50 for a pair. Now, I know I could just got get a cheap pair, but they don't fit very well and look a bit crappy.
Also, I'm well aware of the apparent hypocrisy when you compare this post to the one before, but being a man doesn't mean I can't care how I look, just I care more about getting vagina than being one.
Still, why is denim so expensive? Or even labels? It's irritating, I mean Levi's are like the one brand that I would happily buy over and over, because their products are good, comfortable and look cool, but still, expensive.
I'm unaware of the overheads, I guess, I suppose little Indonesian slave children charge a fair wage for their labour.
That's another thing, actually, those fucking NSPCC adverts or Red Cross, which ever ones focus on Africa or whatever. YOUR ADVERTS DON'T WORK.
I don't know what it's like in Africa or whatever (which is now a founded nation in my dictionary, encompassing anything that isn't first world, and if you get offended, fuck you, don't pretend like you know the intricate differences between countries), in my world I was brought up with running water, not running bowels, I have no context.
I'm sure it's sad and terrible, but I honestly couldn't give less of a shit. This doesn't make me evil, this makes me honest. If it was happening on my back door, then yeah, I'd care, I'd pick up arms and shoot some motherfuckers, glock glock fo' rizzle, but it's not.
If you want me to feel anything, then show me what it would be like in my world, show me a reality where I have to live like them, not some crying children.
Seriously, stop showing me crying children, if I wanted to see that, I'd join the church.
People come up to me in the street all the time asking me to donate, and my girlfriend thinks I'm mean for telling them in a variety of colourful ways to peddle their bullshit elsewhere, but they get paid, more than I do, and they're asking for my money? Fuck them, honesty is massively important to me, and I see right through their shit-eating facade of care.
Tell me this, when was the last time someone came up to you in the street to ask for you to volunteer? If someone asked you to volunteer to give food to the homeless, or to donate blankets and food, would you really tell them to jump? Those are tangible things that we can see helping.
But of course, that's not the case, even aid is all about money money fucking money.
And if I'm paying any money for anything, it better look amazing on my ass.
No homo.
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