(Brought to you by the awesome goodness of StumbleUpon.)

Today, my dear brethren (and sistren... in fact, just sistren so far), I bring to you two Truly Awesome Things, one of them following from the other. I assure you that they are both full of Win, and if I can get enough people behind me, they shall indeed be promoted to Epick Win. (I like to spell it with a 'k' on the end 'cuz it looks gnarly.)

The first Truly Awesome Thing is StumbleUpon. If you haven't heard of it yet, I'm not surprised. (What, did you think I was gonna brand you a caveman/woman/person simply for not knowing about this piece of obscure yet still Truly Awesome technology? Gimme a break: I'm not that arrogant. I'm more arrogant.) Either way, go to www.stumbleupon.com and check out what all the fuss is about. If you download the SU bar, I guarantee you many a happy hour of browsing cool and interesting websites.

The second Truly Awesome Thing demonstrates just how awesome StumbleUpon, and by extension the Internet, both are. I came across a particular site, and on it is a particular video. I shall display both below, because I find them both so stunningly awesome and am proud to have such a video on my 'blog.

That Truly Awesome Website Address In Full
http://www.humanistsofutah.org/2002/WhyCantIOwnACanadian_10-02.html

That Truly Awesome West Wing Excerpt in Full

Enjoy. ^-^

WHY does a certain kind of person (you know who you are!) more often than not reply to the perceived insult of a much-loved activity with the question 'Well, can you do it?', just so they can say 'Then shut up.' when you inevitably reply that you can't?!

This is stupid. The fact that something is difficult does not make it automatically worth doing. Hacking one's own head off with a plastic ruler is difficult, but that doesn't make it worth doing!

Gah. I don't know why I got so angry. Perhaps it's a by-product of the euphoric elation one receives as a result of posting twice on the same day (yeah, right). The only reason I really put up this post was because I'd had the thought of this argument earlier whilst playing Guitar Hero: Metallica (yes, they have paid me to plug for them) and subsequently thought that it was pretty good and that I should write it down before I forgot about it.

I promptly forgot about it. Several hours later whilst trawling through my earlier 'blog entries (because I was bored beyond... well, going to bed, at any rate) I remembered the argument and decided to put it up as a Personal Message on my Windows Live Messenger. However, there is a character-limit to it and I couldn't think of any suitably abbreviated form in which I could write the argument there, so instead I decided to post it on my LiveJournal 'blog.

Wow. Writing about why I wrote it took more writing than actually writing it. Ciao, folks. ^-^

P.S. If you see a banner advert for the game mentioned in the post or any paraphernalia thereto related, please let me know. It shall be final and definitive proof that the corporations are spying on me. And you, too. What, did you think that guy following you around all day was just coincidence? Sure, suuuure he's your uncle. I believe you. Now go and play in the garden. No you can't have cake. That's for me.

P. P. S. Note to self: write shorter Post-Scripts so you can remember what it is you intended to write for the Post-Post-Script. OOOH YEAH - as much as I hate asking you guys to take even a bit more of a slice outta your precious personal time (I'm sure you've got your hands full with all kindsa stuff right now - sorting out the walruses, taking in the gravity, throwing up the wall - I understand), I would very much appreciate it if you'd actually bother to COMMENT on one or two of my posts. Or three. The more you comment on, the less of a chance there is that I'll send a grue after you. You do not want a grue on your tail. Seriously. (Although personally I would be more worried about the fact that I had a tail.)

Imagine that you are in a competely empty space - a universe yet to be created, which has no end, no boundaries, nothing in it but you.

Let us also say that you do not even have your own form - that nothing exists in this void save your own consciousness, existing at some point in this timeless, spaceless universe.

In addition, posit that you have complete power over said universe - godlike omnipotence with which you may enforce your will, even should it be to create something from nothing.

Absolute freedom, total and complete.

What is the first thing you'd do?

You could move anywhere you liked in this universe - although of course the word 'move' is quite without meaning in a universe which is a completely blank canvas. You wouldn't even have to go from point A through point B to get to point C: you'd already be there. All points are one: one point is all.

Would you create something? An anchor point in the blankness, perhaps? A single point somewhere in the void which you would designate its centre. That point would be the point of origin, from where both space and time begin - 0, 0, 0, 0.

But then you would no longer have complete freedom. Everywhere you travelled in this suddenly centred void would merely be a point in reference to the centre you created.

Would you inflate this centrepoint - make it larger, spherical, give yourself legs with which to stand, give the sphere gravity to allow you to stand on it, make it larger still, fill it with things you imagine out of nothing to fulfill your needs, make living things to amuse you as they grow, pass the time filling your world with things that serve no functional purpose but seem beautiful to you...?

Would you simply replicate the world in which you were born, with all its many imperfections?

Would you imprison yourself, merely so you could relate to your bars and define yourself by your cell?

Would you give yourself walls to defy infinity and claim that you have a form; a shape...

...a thing which you can call your self?

I just felt like writing something, but I wasn't exactly sure what. So, I guess I could start with a thought I was having. It's do with the fact that it's often my more emotive or personal posts that get comments. My more academic ones often pass under the radar. So, to make this fun, I will now include a representation of a kitten.
There. Hopefully that will increase the amount of comments. (Her name's Jishino, in case you're interested. Anyone who can figure out why gets a cybercookie.)

Another thing I wanted to write about is my recent fascination with anime. Being half-Japanese, I have always been at least slightly interested in this field, but recently something I'm not entirely sure of (probably extreme boredom) has pushed me to watch a string of anime-series.

It started off a while ago with Avatar: The Last Airbender. Now, now - I know what you're going to say. ...Oh. Well, I thought I knew what you were gonna say. Anyway - Avatar is criticised by hardcore anime-fans (referred to from hereon in as 'otaku's, a Japanese word meaning, more or less, 'nerd', which has found meaning in English as anyone with detailed knowledge of anime and/or manga) as not actually being anime, and I can see where they're coming from. One of my otaku friends dislikes Avatar, purportedly because of said fact.

...Aaaand now that I've used the term otaku, I have to post this YouTube video, for obvious reasons. (I've only just worked out how to post audiovisual material so please don't hit me.)

Seriously - MC Frontalot rocks your socks. Or he will, as soon as you listen to his work. That is, if you're a nerd. If you're not, you'll probably just think I'm incredibly sad. Or you might already.

Alright, back to the topic. So, why do I love Avatar? Weeell, it actually started off with a crush on the lead female, Katara. As in, a fictional character. A certain reader (you know who you are) will probably make a disparaging remark at this point.

Anyways, that's beside the point. After that came, oddly enough, Azumangah Daioh. I came across it one extremely boring evening whilst searching YouTube for mudkips (don't ask), the link between them being AMV Hell and its various movies. Said anime is rather girly, one has to admit, but then I've never really been one for machoness. Dear mater says I have a 'lollita complex', which is very possibly true. If you're scratching your head at this point, you can probably find it somewhere on Wikipedia. (Ah, how I love Wikipedia.)

After that came The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. I felt obliged to watch it because it had been so thoroughly endorsed by one of my otaku friends (no, not that one - another one) after I mentioned that I'd just finished Azumangah and needed a new anime. Seriously, it's like a drugs habit - if you don't have an anime you can fall back on and watch at any time you start to feel badly jittery.

Suzumiya was good enough to keep me entertained for perhaps two weeks or so, if that (only thirteen episodes? HA!), but I felt that the absolute best was Episode 12. It was the most 'real' episode of them all, and knocked me into a profound reverie for most of dinner. It takes quite a bit to do that - dinner is awesome!

I suppose it was only natural that, after those previous two, I should then progress onto Lucky Star - an anime that makes plenty of references to Suzumiya, as well as Keroro Gunsou (Sergeant Frog, to you English types, which I have seen quite a bit of) and many others that I haven't seen.

...

...

...-Sorry, I forgot I was writing a 'blog. Uh... yeah. Anyways, I just wanted to alert everyone to the fact that I have now finished watching Lucky Star and am in need of a new series to rely on.

The reason I got distracted for so long was this AWESOME website:

http://onceuponawin.com

I cannot possibly overstate how excellent said website is.

Anyways - toodles, chaps and chappettes.

As an author, I've often wondered about what it is exactly that makes a character compelling; what it is that makes us empathise with a character and want to follow every last one of their adventures. Well, I think I've finally ascertained that final magic ingredient that makes a character leap from just good to excellent, and you, you lucky few, are gunna be the first to find out what it is.

However, before I can start explaining that, I need to lay some groundwork (as usual). After all, this is a complicated theorem and I'm not gunna be able to explain it right off the bat. First I need to get a bat, which requires going to the store to get it, and the store's a looong way away so first I have to get in the car and DRIVE there, which requires getting a driving license and (I think you get the picture)

Sooo, groundwork. As followers of my work may (or may not) know, I am an ardent fan of the poet Keats, and as such am familiar with several of his casual letters. He had several theories about the formation of that vast and complex being, the human, one of which was the 'Vale of Soul-Making', as he referred to it. Let's see if I can find the original quotation... *pulls out book*

-HALF AN HOUR LATER-

...WHA-? Ooooh... sorry. Um. Yeah. Ya see, thing is, whenever I start reading any of Keats's stuff, I can't help but continue on with it. Well, I have at least GOT a quotation I can use: Keats sometimes gets rather confused in his letters, which is extraordinary considering he's habitually a verse-poet. Lessee here... oh yes: 'Do you not see how necessary a World of Pains and troubles is to school an Intelligence and make it a soul? A Place where a heart must feel and suffer in a thousand diverse ways!' (GAWD but he had some weird ideas about capitalisation...)

Anyway: this is the central idea upon which my thesis is based. Keats's philosophising led him to believe (or, so I interpret) that we all come into this world like blank sheets of paper. Sure, there is something there which could be said to be a soul, but it is as yet empty, and therefore not properly a Soul (or Intelligence; as I said he gets rather confused at times) as Keats would have had it. Therefore, it needs to be filled up with something before it can be said to be a proper human soul.

But what with? Well, Keats was part of the Romantic movement, and I'm something of a romantic too, so we're both in agreement on this one: to come to terms with a reality in which abstract concepts cannot possibly exist, one must learn that they cannot through a process of suffering. Basically, learning from mistakes - but this is not an intellectual process, it must be stressed. The mind is a thing of intelligence - the soul (or the Heart: Keats REALLY needed to get all that sorted out before writing about it) is a thing of emotion.

To grow as a person, one must suffer. It is inevitable. As anyone who has watched Little Miss Sunshine will know, the French writer Proust once said that, near the end of his life, he looked back on his whole life and decided that only the bits he'd suffered had actually been at all useful to his art. Obviously you need to be happy, but if you're not depressed every now and then you're never going to grow. Suffering is a sign that you're up against something that you find difficult to deal with, and you're never going to develop unless you have to deal with a challenge - it stands to sense.

Obviously it would be rather difficult for us to study this in reality - however, that's not what I'm talking about. If you scroll back up the page to the beginning of this post (man, that seems like such a long time ago) you will recall that I am in fact talking about how this applies to fictional characters, so I shall set about applying this with my usual vim and viguour, and with the aid of two characters that happen to be particular favourites of mine.

First off - Doctor Johannes Faustus, as portrayed in Chrisopher 'Kit' Marlowe's masterpiece Doctor Faustus. Anyone with intimate knowledge of the play (i.e.: anyone in my English Literature class who has actually DONE THE WORK) will know that Faustus begins the play with high aspirations: he wants to learn about the universe so he can impress people by telling them fancy stuff and have rule o'er all the elements and bladdah blee, bladdah bloo. However, during Acts 3 and 4 he kinda loses his trail a bit and, instead of all the high-minded stuff he said he'd do, basically goes on a grand tour of the world to play base tricks on people and cheat them out of various things in a very petty way.

Now, you might ask, what is there about this character that could possibly recommend itself to me? Well, I'll tell you. During the fifth and final Act, Faustus's debauchery finally catches up with him: the deal he made with Satan is finally up, and after twenty-four years of cavorting about pointedly not doing the things he said he would, he must now render up his soul. This, ladies and gentlemen, is where the true beauty of both the play and this character lies - when Faustus is reduced a fear-stricken (but still oddly articulate) wreck, and desperately tries to worm his way out of having to pay the ultimate price of ETERNAL DAMNATION (!!!) for his sins. It was at this moment that a merely good play became, for me, truly great.

The odd thing is, I went for quite a while thinking that the middle acts were crap. The fourth Act is almost definitely penned by some inferior hand (save for that beautiful soliloquy in Scene Um), and I thought that the middle Acts merely brought down the tone of what was otherwise a quite excellent play. HowEVAH (I have GOT to stop using that word), in time I came to realise that this was in fact a contributory factor to the play. If Faustus was merely a superhuman character with no perceivable faults, we wouldn't empathise with him nearly as much when his inevitable end finally comes.

And that's kinda the point. A perfect character with no flaws (or, on the other hand, a completely flawed character with nothing noble about them) just is not realistic. We all like to see our heroes fall - not permanently, of course, otherwise they won't be able to get back up and keep coming back every week for another thrilling episode, but nonetheless we like to see our heroes challenged by a darker, altogether more seamy side. To illustrate this point, I will refer to the second character I promised you. What, you hadn't forgotten about her, had you?

Namely, Nausicaa, of Hayo Miyazaki's Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind. (Note: there's meant to be a little umlaut over the top of the last 'a' of her name, and also over the first letter of 'umlaut', but I have no idea how to do those things on here. Curse you, LJ!) Trust me: the 'of the' bits sound a lot better in the original Japanese (Kaze no Tani no Naushika, if you're wondering). Why do I bring her up? Weeerll, (I keep using that rhetorical device!) she undergoes a similarly character-shaking/-shaping experience in which she faces her darker side.

Ya see, her father is murdered by enemy soldiers, and when she arrives on the scene and sees him lying dead, she immediately FLIPS out and murders all the soldiers responsible. We might not think of this as such a big deal if Nausicaa were a guy, but it's exactly because she's a sweet nature-loving tree-hugging whatchamacallit that it's so shocking. (I mean, seriously. Her hair rises like an angry cat's.) This is completed by a scene soon after in which she confesses to her mentor Yupa that she's afraid of her anger and doesn't want to kill anymore. If I had to name a particular point in the movie (yes, I know it's originally a manga, but *I* have only seen the anime-movie) in which I felt a connection to Nausicaa, it would be in that scene.

And that's the point, really. Characters that are mostly noble and yet still are troubled by character traits normally belonging to evil characters seem somehow more real, and therefore make us much more likely to identify with them. Most heroes/heroines are far too one-dimensional, in that they're just good in the beginning, good during the middle and good during the end. Where's the development? Where's the conflict? Where's the ANGST?

This is a device I intend to use in future character-creation, so if you find yourself absolutely adoring any of the characters in my novels-yet-to-be, this is probably why. Oh - and yes, you can use this for yourself, if you absolutely MUST. But I'm still gunna be more famous than you. And with more money. So there.

Wow. Will you look at that. I've actually updated within a millenium of the previous post.

Hello me-fans. I just thought I'd like to add a little addendum to my post of... two days ago, was it? I can't be sure. Time is merely a matter of numbers to me, and I've never been all that good at maths...

For my Film Studies course (which I have now finished, BTW - done the exams an' everything) I was one of an unlucky number who had to study the self-indulgent sentiment-fests that are Richard Curtis' most famous works, namely: Notting Hill, About a Boy and Love Actually. Never have I seen more pathetically fluffy, rom-commy, chick-flicky drivel.

Naw, I kid. I enjoyed Love Actually immensely. The other two films were crap, but anything with Keira Knightley in it gets my thumbs-up every time. There may be those that say she's a useless actress and that may be so - that's not why I'm infatuated at her. But that's beside the point. (I may write another 'blog later chronicling my Keira-centred fantasies, but for now, the show must go on.)

No, I haven't digressed. The reason I bring up said films is because studying them in my Film Studies AS Level course gave me a unique vantage-point on the messages they send, namely: people are what matter. Upper-middle class people with jobs and no real financial problems, to be sure, but still people. Oh - and don't forget the token eccentric. She must wear strange woolen garments that looked like they've been knitted by a blind monk in Nepal and have hair that looks as though it has been styled by that selfsame monk.

Basically, the conclusion of each movie (or 'closure', as we Film Studies types call it) features the protagonist happily surrounded by friends and family and everyone's in love with each other and it's all so wonderfully wonderful that you could just hit Curtis with a brick. If you're the type to do that. Personally I'm not, but if you are please send me details of what it was like once you have.

(DISCLAIMER: IN NO WAY DOES THE AUTHOR OF THIS 'BLOG ENDORSE THE HITTING OF RICHARD CURTIS IN THE FACE WITH A LARGE, AERODYNAMICALLY-SHAPED CINDERBLOCK. THIS 'BLOG IS ENTIRELY FOR PURPOSES OF ENTERTAINMENT AND DOES NOT CONDONE VIOLENCE OF ANY SORT, ESPECIALLY THAT LEVELLED AT RICHARD CURTIS. WITH OR WITHOUT BRICKS.)

To continue: everyone that's good in Curtis films is faithful to their friends and family and always helps out and has a job and is basically a pillar of the community and contributor to society in every way short of actually achieving universal enlightment and becoming a supreme being in order to better take care of loved ones. Anyone who does anything bad (or doesn't do anything good, which is the same thing in a Curtis film) comes to regret it and comes clean by the end of the film, so that they can then be included in the big happy ending. (Aside from the American character Sarah in Love Actually, oddly enough. In fact, the portrayal of Americans in both Love Actually and Notting Hill is perfectly abhorrent. Not in About a Boy, thankfully - they're not even in that one.)

I'd like to be able to refute completely and utterly that what the blinkered Richard Curtis says is true, but I'm afraid it is - for me, in any case. I need people to need me. It's a fundamental requirement of my - mind? Body? Soul? I have no idea, but I need them.

I came up with a reason why this might be so. Whenever I'm alone, I am inevitably reduced to the state of playing games on my XBox or woefully graphics-inadequate computer. Naturally, spending so long playing games means that I often finish them within days of having bought them.

Whilst trawling through the various post-apocalyptic settings of Fallout 3 (a superlative game, if you're interested) I realised that I had in fact explored every corner of the game (at least, every corner of the game that doesn't lose my incredibly minute attention span). And then, as you do, I became bored with the game. And yet I felt compelled to keep playing. Why? Because I had no-one else to talk to.

And that is pretty much the long and the short of it. A game will never change. You can mod it, you can get the sequels, you can even hack the script and rewrite it, but ultimately that's what you (or some other human) is doing to it. Being by yourself means exploring the fullest depth of the inanimate objects around you (if you're curious comme moi), which inevitably means you must come to an end.

People never come to an end. I mean, they die, sure, but if there were no limit imposed upon the human lifespan, we would forever continue to change. And that's why I need people. They are endlessly entertaining. No matter how much you play the game (converse), there will always be something new lurking around the corner. You can never possibly know everything about a person, and that's why I find them so fascinating.

In my darker moments, I think - no, I know that happiness is merely the denial of every piece of bullshit that goes on in this world. As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss. Immersing myself in someone else's problems somehow makes it seem a bit better...

Okay. So, it's been an incredibly long time since my last post. In fact, it's been sooooo long that, if I were to make an apologetic gesture which would be appropriate for the length of time it's taken me to update, I'd probably have to gut myself with a fishfork. That being the case, I think it would be best to leave the apology out this time.

If I updated more often, you would have about a month ago been the receiver of the joyful news that I have FINISHED ALL MY COURSEWORK and handed it in, more or less on time. However, now that's out of the way, it seems that the worry-centres of my mind have found something else to fixate on.

Namely, my loneliness. So far, I have racked up a total of two failed relationships. Not many, I know, but it's still enough ammunition to feed my irrational insecurities. It means a number of things: that I suck at getting together with girls, that I suck at picking the right ones, that I suck at maintaining relationships and that I suck at being with the girls I actually want to be with and think I would have a chance with.

Now I know what you're thinking: 'Oh my GOD, the previously witty, intelligent, insightful and extremely arrogant writer of this blog has now descended to spouting self-pitying bullshit.' Well, you're right. But, as I said earlier, it is my default nature to be self-pitying: because I have now finished my coursework, I need something else to be depressed about. And if the title of the post didn't give you any hints, you seriously need to work on that perspicacity of yours.

Normally this wouldn't be a problem. Lots of people are lonely all over the world, and they manage to deal with it, raight? Well, maybe not - you've also got all sorts of loonies in the world who tee off at people exactly because they're lonely. I'm willing to bet that if some kind girl had taken it upon herself to pay some attention to Seung Hui-Cho (look him up), he wouldn't have ended up doing what he did. Or maybe he would have ended up violating her. I don't know.

The point is, I'm not going to get all psycho over this, so don't worry. It's not that bad. To tell the truth, the mere fact that I'm writing this down means I am therefore much less likely to do something violent as a result. However, I never would anyway. I'm simply not the kind of person who slashes others up - or even myself, for that matter. There are two principle reasons for this: 1) I think human life is too precious to waste in that way and 2) I'm just far, far too lazy.

Still, the point remains. In fact, it kinda scares me because... well, I haven't told anyone this, and I have to keep typing continuously so my brain doesn't kick in and stop my fingers from pouring out what is churning in my heart, but every single girl at College reminds me how lonely I am, and WOE BETIDE if a girl shows ANY kind of affection towards me - even unthinkingly - for I shall then have a crush on said girl FOR EVER.

As you've probably guessed, I have as a result crushes on pretty much every girl at College that I know. But wait - it gets worse. This is... kinda hard for me to say. But I've got to say it. If I don't say it to the Internet I might never be able to say it to any one person. I've got to get this off my chest even if nobody ever reads this.

Whenever I sit next to or near a girl (not in class, BTW: I'm always professional when it counts) I always get the urge to touch them; an urge I normally manage to restrain. Normally. It's not even sexual contact I desire: even just touching them on the skin of the arm gratifies me. Yes, yes - I am extremely creepy and sick in the head. Make your comment and get it over with already.

Whether this is a perversion unique to me or a desire all males share, I can't be sure. I do, however, know that I find it rather repugnant, since it is an invasion of privacy and, if they knew why I was so innocently poking them and hugging them, would be sexual harrassment as well.

There. I've got it down on paper... or webspace. Whatever it's called, I've got it down on it.

Now... please don't think I'm weird... or do, but please have the courtesy to at least pretend that you don't when writing your comment...

Sorry it's been so long blah terribly sorry blee. I need to get these thoughts down pronto an' I don't got no time for proper grammar, darnit!

Okay, so what was it I needed to get down? Oh yes: the theory of how I think. It goes something like this.

As you know, I have had coursework. You may be surprising to learn that I still have coursework, unless of course you're one of my tutors. Just on the complete offchance that Mr Terry Cook reads this: why oh why did you have to put your faith in me?

In any case, I think I may have finally worked out exactly why it is that I find it so difficult to buckle down to coursework. The reason? Emotion. Namely, I have too much of it. I've devoted myself so entirely to feeling lately that, when I have to do something which requires a lack thereof, it has become harder to do... and guess which task in particular requires that lack? That's right - College work.

You see, all my emotions are tangled up together in one huge ball of emotion-yarn. I've tried balancing out my emotions and making myself happy and forcing myself to feel productive and all that crud, but the thing is it don't work. All the emotions are tied together, 'cuz to untangle that big ball o' yarn would mean untangling me, which I don't plan on doing anytime soon.

Normally this isn't a problem 'cuz I'm very self-confident (yah right), but when it comes to coursework I have a whole boatload of fear (read: GUILT) attached to it. Why's that? Because I've put it off so long. I think you can see how it's becoming a vicious circle, huh?

However, all hope is not lost. Granted, I spent the last few days of College this last term in relative Hell (it wasn't actual Hell or even all that bad Hell - it was just Hell from where I happened to be at the time), but now that the holidays have come I'm using all my time away from my tutors (read: GUILT-TRIP INDUCERS) to try and foster a positive attitude and...

Wait. I said that doesn't work, didn't I? Damn, I need to stop writing these things at unearthly hours of the morning... oh yes! Yes, here's the scheme: today, I managed to get quite a bit of coursework done. Admittedly I didn't finish any today and didn't reach the target I set myself because it turned out that the work I'd done before was absolute crap and needed to be redone (it's difficult being a perfectionist), but I got it to a point where I could springboard into finishing it after another good day's work. And how?

Well, it's all thanks to my saviour in more ways that one: Hayao Miyazaki, head of Studio Ghibli (a producer I'm doing my Media coursework on, BTW). You see, I could feel myself starting to slide down that slippery slope of paralysing fear once more (seriously, it's like mind-ice or something), so I quickly put something on to distract myself. When I realised that I couldn't actually wear the DVD, I decided to put it on - sorry, in the TV instead. It was Grave of the Fireflies. I'd bought it a while ago in my quest to watch every single Ghibli feature ever made, and guess what? Halfway through, I felt good enough to return to my work and did a good chunk of it.

It worked for a very simple reason. Those who know of classical tragedy and catharsis and all that jazz will be familiar with the idea of purging one's emotions through expression of fear and pity for some perceived character. Well, Grave of the Fireflies did just that - and quite beautifully, I might add. I was moved to my core. Instead of balancing my ball of emotion-yarn, it threw the whole lot out the window so I could work with a mind blissfully emptied of all other things. It was like waking up whilst still awake.

The only problem is, emotions don't stop being generated by my busy little mind just because I've purged them once. A couple of hours afterwards I was all guilted-up again, so I watched the rest of Fireflies and, once more, it worked like a charm. But, inevitably, the same thing happened, and this time I had no more Fireflies left to watch. I'm afraid I'm gonna haveta root through the rest o' ma DVDs to find some tragic-type stuff... real tearjerker things, you know...

Oh - and if I never manage to post again, it's probably because Mr Cook has murdered me in a fit of apoplectic 'WTF is WRONG with you?!' 'not-finishing-coursework' rage. (Seriously. He scary. He don't even have to shout to be scary. Imagine what he must be like when he does shout. O.O)

I've just been struck by a particularly striking (DUH) similarity betwixt two fictional creations from two of my favourite fictional universes. They are, in case you were wondering, the Space Marines (Warhammer 40,000) and the Brotherhood of Steel (the Fallout series).

I'm sure it's a comparison that has been drawn by others before me. After all, what with the huge suits of armour, the high-tech weaponry and the strict code of honour and discipline, it's only inevitable that people might, in the same way that I did, sit there for a few hours playing Fallout 3 before the penny finally drops, initiating a splintering crash.

I just find it fascinating (I find a lot of things fascinating, but not always in italics) that this kind of thing has been replicated in popular culture. Both the Marines and the BoS are of course modelled after the chivalric knights of yore - just updated for the technological requirements of a dystopian future.
 
A touch of romanticism, perhaps? More than likely, I'd say. I know for a fact that I would relish the chance to march around in bulky armour dispensing justice with a huge sword. There's just something about the male mindset (and the lesbian mindset, I don't know? XP) that naturally inclines towards armour and swords - possibly stored in the same part of the brain that houses a desire to drive sports-cars and operate heavy machinery.

So, the only question left to be asked is of course which is more badass; the Marines or the BoS? Weeell, I'm inclined to throw my weight behind the Space Marines. Why, you ask?

...Actually, it's just hit me that it's nearly 1 in the morning here. I should probably get some sleep. I can list the reasons why the Space Marines kick the Brotherhood's butts 10 times outta 10, so yah.

Signing off...

Whilst agonising over my indecision demons, I came across this enchanting little video on YouTube. Take a look.

The Story - Sex Education
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNkV-UdwJcg

Do I now have a topic I can vent about? You bet your ass I do. (Why I'd want to win your ass is beyond me, but whatever floats your boat.)

Let me lay down for ya all the sex education I've ever had: When I was ten or perhaps slightly after, the music teacher drew us aside and, in so many words, proceeded to tell us that sex is a cool thing. Afterwards, I moved to a new place, and the new school's sex-ed consisted of pretty much just a bored woman not even trying to control a classroom of rowdy boys. Yes, that particular school was segregated. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Thankfully, I have very understanding parents. Well, that is to say my father is very understanding. He taught me about sex looong before I even entered school. I really can't remember exactly when it was - it was that long ago. I don't even recall him actually teaching me, per se: I've just always kinda had the knowledge, as though it was instinctual. I can't understand how people could not know how sex works. Still, I have heard about women in the Middle East having to be admitted to hospital due to having bruising all around the navel, so I suppose it is an issue.

If there was one thing on this Earth that I could abolish, do you know what it would be? Well, neither do I, but it would probably be a tie between conservatism and organised religion. Then again, the two are pretty much synonymous, are they not? The way I see it, those two things (and more - let us not forget that this is an issue far more complicated than I can ever fully outline here) are principally responsible for the sexual climate we have in the world today.

It's information that these kids need! Without it, dumbass things like a 13-year-old kid having a child happen! And not only information - understanding. I mean, real personal stuff, you know? I like the idea the Dutch have about learning to respect one's body. I mean, I've never been to the Netherlands, but just that snippet of information made me feel really positive about the holiday to Amsterdam I shall be taking not too far in the future. They sound really groovy, a'ight?

So, yes. What is it that's lacking in modern sex-education? Actually, let me rephrase that to highlight the problem: what's lacking in sex education? Because the way I see it, there ain't anything 'modern' about it. What I've heard from my friends of their sex education is a mixture of being shouted at about STDs and being told to use a condom. Yeah. Really informative. That really does help us teens to understand the beautiful and yet potentially dangerous nature of something that people the world-over do every day. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if the parents themselves seemed to know what they were doing, but sadly, they don't seem to.

To demonstrate just how annoyingly irrational this problem is, let me present you with an analogous situation. Learning about sex is kind of a rite of passage, yes? One of the necessary steps to becoming an adult. Weerrll, one could argue that driving is also a rite of passage - one of the keys to becoming an adult. People die in car accidents or have their lives ruined by crash-injuries. People die of STDs and have their lives ruined by same, or by having to raise a child whilst still young and unsuited to such a task. Learning to drive a car is a process strictly regulated by law. Sex is also a process strictly regulated by law. When you learn to drive, you have an instructor guiding you every step of the way as you learn, then an examiner to tell you if/when you're finally good enough to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting public. When you learn to have sex...

Ah. See the craziness at work here? Following this logic, letting people into the adult world without sex-education is kinda like letting people onto the road without any car-handling skills. The only difference is, sex is a biological imperative. I don't know about you, but personally I don't go crazy at the thought of driving a car (you pervert). Whereas it is fully possible that someone may go through life not having driven a car, I find it extremely doubtful that any normal person (which excludes people who have taken a vow of chastity - damn all organised religion to HELL!) would go through their whole life without having sex.

Why do I find this issue so particularly vexing? I'll tell you why. Because they're in my head. That's right: those conservative bastards have conditioned me into being all 'Oh no, sex - let's talk about something else'. I will not, however, let them defeat me just yet. Like all powerful things, sex has the ability to be either beautiful or destructive, and by having been educated by someone who understands both the subject and myself, I feel I may be able to get through alright. (Well... once I've found someone with whom I can have it, of course... GAH!)

However, there are many poor sods out there who don't have a clue that by doing that thing which everyone told them feels oh-so good and has no bad consequences whatsoever, they are in fact fucking up their own lives. I think we should do something about this. Don't you?

I'm not exactly sure what to write about today. And yes, I know it's been a long time since I last updated. What, do you people want me chained to this bleedin' keyboard? Some people, I swear...

Anyways, yes: I'm not sure what to write about today. That's different from merely not knowing what to write about: I am knowledgeable, but unfortunately very indecisive.

I first logged on intending to write something concerning the whole 'Men are from Mars / Women are from Venus' debacle, but then I was reminded of something I had made a mental note to myself about a while ago to write, namely a continuation of the Twilight slagfest I started earlier (Breaking Dawn! I'M COMIN' FOR YA!), but then my eye was caught by one of those oh-so eyecatching little advertisements that hover around the top of my 'blogpage like plague-bearing locusts.

So you can see my dichotomy. Three equally juicy subjects to choose from, and no idea which one may suit best my purposes this evening. If anyone is reading this, please leave a comment and end my misery.

Well. I don't mean kill me, obviously, but... Gah. You know what I mean.

I know the Internet is a very big and scary place and that you can't be expected to keep tabs on all the many phenomena (or 'memes', as the technical term is) that crop up in it on a daily basis - even the viral ones that spread through it like wildfire and every son of a mother has heard of - which is what I'm here for. However, no simple little meme is worth my attention. Not for long enough to write an entire 'blog entry about, anyways. I might look at it once or twice and think either 'Oh, that's funny/clever/interesting. I'll remember that so I can guffaw stupidly about it with other people when I find out that they know it too.' or 'Someone has WAY too much time on their hands.'

However, one particular meme that has captured my attention for a sufficient amount of 'blog-writing time is that of a video that has been spread throughout much of the Internet; as you have already guessed, it is the one mentioned in the title. I will say nothing for now and let you form your own opinion of it. Because I am so wonderfully considerate, I have provided the pertinent link for you. You're welcome.

This should keep us all thinking
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTOUbgbWAzA

What? Oh, you're back. Alright then. *stands up, dusts crisp crumbs off self* Now that you've seen the extract in full, what do you think of it? You probably have quite a strong opinion of it, no doubt, as the video seems to anticipate by giving you those two choices (although technically speaking it can only suggest two opinions: mere words surely could not modulate reality unto the point where only two courses of action were actually possible... or could they?) I ask myself why nat21paris (whomsoever that may be) chose to proliferate this story through the medium of video rather than pure text, but meh. That is irrelevant.

Now then: if the video's only purpose was indeed to keep us all thinking, then I think I can safely say that it has done its job. At least, in my case. There may be people out there who felt so strongly about the vid and story presented therein that their reaction completely bypassed any and all thought, but then I can't speak for them. The person I can speak for is myself, and personally I found it... interesting. I find a lot of things interesting, as my 'blog can attest.

It could be argued that the video is in fact designed to inhibit thought. The 'You have 2 choices' section of it doesn't seem to me to be all that conducive to the creation of thought, since it tells you what to do rather than simply presenting the story and leaving you to it (the task of thinking, that is. Must I tell you people everything?!).

I'm not going to argue about whether or not God exists, as seems to be the trend with most of those who view the video (and pretty much half of the rest of all the videos posted on YouTube, even those only tangentially to do with religion or divinity) - that was handled in the 'blog immediately previous to this one. Not definitively, perhaps, and definitely not conclusively, but that was as much as I felt I could handle the issue at that time (and indeed, at the time of this writing). What I am here to write about today is the presentation of this story - and indeed, the story itself.

The doubters claim that the story's veracity is suspect. This is irrelevant. No story is true. True stories are only ever true insofar as they are truly stories. To represent reality in stories is to do exactly that: REpresent them. It's impossible to tell somebody exactly what happened anywhere, especially since you are a being that operates entirely subjectively and therefore cannot possibly give a completely true account of any happenstance. As the philosophy professor in the story would have been able to tell you (were he not a complete idiot), the concept of 'truth' is extremely shaky as it is, and our perception thereof even more so. If the story could have happened (i.e. there weren't jellybabies riding giant green unicorns across the ceiling), we must assume that it is true, for it is impossible to positively and categorically prove the nonexistence of something, as aforementioned in the previous 'blog entry.

So, assuming that the story is true, what are we to take from it? Well, let's start off by analysing the text. First off - the philosophy professor, since he forms pretty much half of the story. We are told quite soon after the beginning that he is 'a deeply committed atheist'. In fact, he is so deeply committed that he holds classes just so he can purposely prove that God does not exist. He insults the intellect of any student who opposes his deeply-held beliefs (and they ARE only beliefs, even if they are atheistic ones) - indeed, intimidates them to the point that they feel unable to speak out. He uses his logic skills as a professor to outargue students.

Now then class, what kind of picture would you say this representation paints of the character? Anyone...? Because the way I see it, he is a paragon of virtue: as brilliant a professor as anyone could ever hope to meet. He can fight off entire swathes of opposing arguments without even trying. He knows the truth of God's nonexistence. In short, he is a god in his own right. I would shake this man by the hand, only I'm afraid that the sheer power present in his godly handshake might kill me. He is second only to Chuck Norris, and ANYONE who says I'm wrong is a FOOL!!!

...See what it's like? Being shouted at by a guy who can use entirely capitalised words and three exclamation marks at once is no small thing.

I don't know about you, but personally I hold that it's not the professor's belief in the nonexistence of God that is his problem, which is what the story seems to suggest by having him defeated by one of the faithful. Rather it is his inflexibility: his rigidity and unwilligness to bend or accept the fact that other people might have ideas which, although different from his, may be just as valid. I mean, look at the man. He is a professor who is proud (one assumes) of the fact that he can out-argue his students. How pathetic is that? It would be like God getting all high-and-mighty about the fact that he managed to throw Lucifer out of Heaven. But I digress.

The picture that is painted of this professor is one of a desperately bitter, immature and, above all, unprofessional man. How did he become like this? One can only guess. Perhaps his parents were rabid Christians who were so incredibly stringent in the enforcement of holy doctrine that he swore to lead a one-man crusade against God, embracing so-called 'logic' over the meaningless dogma his tyrannical forebears had attempted to drill into him? Either way, he doesn't seem to operate on logic to me. I mean, how many arguments do we hear from him? One. And what does this argument consist of? 'God is omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent. I am going to challenge Him to stop this chalk from breaking. If He does not, then He does not exist.' Now, am I the only one who thinks that this professor is sordidly lacking in logical skill? Never mind the fact that God is meant to be an entity with the choice to do or not do something, unlike natural forces like gravity which are not self-aware and cannot decline to operate. No, never mind that. If He doesn't do as I say, He doesn't exist. Frankly, I'm surprised that none of the students were able to outargue such an obviously stupid man - either that or the philosophy students of the University of Southern California are uncommonly mentally deficient, which I very much hope is not the case.

So if this story is not an illustration of the triumph of faith over logic, what is it? To me it seems much more credible that this story is of the triumph of courage over obstinate prejudice. In fact, if the religious aspect were to be surgically removed from this story, that is in fact what people would say it was about, I'd wager. Yes, you could argue that the young man's faith gave him the courage to stand up to the repressive force represented by the teacher, which demonstrates the awesome motivating power of faith, and you'd be right. Faith is an awesome tool of motivation - but only because it completely bypasses knowledge, reason or rationality. You cannot know God to exist or not: you can only believe that He does - or does not. Fideism is an odd thing: to conclusively prove something is to preclude the possibility of believing it.

Besides, it is a fundamental tenet of mine that humans have an intrinsic need to believe in things. Just take a look at how people act: they're much less likely to say 'I'm just gonna go there and see what it's like' than they are to say 'I'm gonna go there and see if it's like what I thought'. We make up our minds about what we want to see and then we find reasons for it. This is scientific fact: the rational part of the brain does not active until after the deed is done. Since we live in such a vast world, a world in which we can never know everything (or indeed anything, some philosophers might argue), we will always have the need to believe in things, for all that we fool ourselves into thinking that we are logical beings. However, neither should we abandon logic as useless - goodness knows the unbridled spirit of humanity can prove incredibly lethal if left unchecked (the infamous terrorist attacks can show just what extreme faith can do). Just because logic and faith are both equally flawed in their own inimitable ways, it does not mean we should abandon all hope: in the end, it is a matter for one's own conscience... as is everything else, I suppose. We are shaped creatures indeed, whether by a God, several gods or just our environment - we have very little control over anything we are or do, however much we might like to believe the contrary.

Well then. I hoped that helped shed some light on the subject. It might even have got you thinking. Who knows?

As you know, the First Eternal Question is the Meaning of Life (to which the Eternal Answer is, of course, 42). However, I hold that there is now a Second Eternal Question (mostly because I say so): is there a God? This is embodied in the Creationism/evolution argument. I shall now launch into my obligatory preamble as to why exactly I am boring you with this topic today.

I had just arrived home from a road-trip with some fellows of mine (yes, I am finally getting out of the house!), and imagine what I should see stuffed through my door but a leaflet to some seminar on Creationism. Because I wish to be entirely accurate, I shall now have to retrieve the leaflet from the rubbish bin.

Ah. It would appear that my mother has changed the bin-liner. No matter: it is not essential to this discussion. I shall continue on the basis of what I know and have spent an hour or so today researching.

Now then: since I am not a proponent of Creationism, I am afraid that I do not know the arguments for it - or against it, for that matter (for we must remember that the best method of combatting the weapons of one's opposition is to own them yourself). I am, it must be said, an advocate of the theory of evolution - but not a particularly staunch one, for reasons that shall be divulged once you have pulled that bar to the right of the webpage in a downward direction.

For those who do not know the mechanics of the theory of evolution, here I shall give a swift crash-course.

Charles Darwin, often named as the one who defined evolutionary theory with his work The Origin of Species, noticed in his journeys to the Galapagos Islands that the tortoises he encountered there were different in small - but significant - ways. On islands where there was plenty of vegetation and verdure growing near the ground, the tortoises had flat-edged shells, as we typically think them to have. However, on islands where greenery was sparse and often only on trees, the tortoises had notches on the front of their shells and extra-long necks with which they could reach up and chomp on whatever delicious foodstuffs may have been growing from the branches. (Well I don't know it they really were delicious, do I? I'm not a tortoise.) Also, he noticed that there were different varieties of finches, the differing characteristic between them being their beaks and the way said beaks corresponded well with the type of food they ate and the functions they had to perform to survive. This set Darwin thinking - why were these creatures so well-suited to their respective environments?

Now, I think I can predict what a Creationist would say here: namely, that God designed the animal in this way because He knew under which conditions it would have to survive, and that was probably the way Darwin was inclined to think in those conservative times. Still, there was the question of whether or not they changed over time - without God's intervention, instead of themselves. After all, why are apes so similar in so many ways to humans? Why is the archaeopteryx a kind of proto-bird, with crude feathers that very much resemble reptilian scales? Surely this points to some kind of gradual change through the generations, through which apes became humans and reptiles became birds?

The mechanism by which this is thought to happen became known as 'natural selection', or more colloquially as 'the survival of the fittest': those organisms which were best-suited to their environment lived on while the less well-suited individuals perished, thus ensuring that the genes representing the characteristics which increased survivability were passed on to the next generation and therefore making it more likely for the race as a whole to continue surviving - and developing, needless to say.

The Creationists get past this theory with a rather clever argument, known as the 'watchmaker analogy'. Namely, if you were to happen across a watch and study it closely, you would naturally come to the conclusion that it had been designed by an intelligent being - surely such a complex device could not have come about by chance? Especially when taking into account that the watch has a definite end for which it was designed (the teleological argument). Now, when we transfer this argument to the rest of the world, specifically in this case to the natural world, surely the complexity of design present in animals is an obvious indicator of some kind of intelligent design?

The thing about this argument is that it is incredibly difficult to refute. After all, if we were to receive some kind of message from beyond the stars, we would instantly assume that it was sent by intelligent lifeforms - aliens, in other words (or that there was a prankster somewhere with a lot of money and time on their hands, but for the sake of the argument let's stick to the first supposition). How is the natural world any different? After all, DNA, the building-blocks of life and the basis of the entire evolutionary argument, is possibly one of the most complex codes around, and - despite its ability to function autonomously - it must have first been created to be able to act autonomously, implying that there may have been some Great Programmer who initially coded the incredibly complex alogrithm that is DNA (to put it in computer terms).

In the end, ironically, it all comes back to the beginning: that is, the beginning of everything. How did it all begin, were it not for some all-powerful being that created it all? The obvious reply to this is 'How did said being begin? Did someone create Him, and if so who created that being?' 'Tis a quandary. However, I feel I have an answer - or rather, I have adapted an answer. Upon asking whom it was that created God of one of my Muslim friends, I received the answer that He has no beginning and no end. Could we not then argue that our world is the same? After all, our world is chock-full of cycles, is it not? So what if all these tiny cycles amount to one BIIIG cycle that is all of existence? It sounds (to employ hip-hop terminology) whack, I know, but it makes sense to me.

Anyways - all of these arguments are pretty irrelevant anyways. Why is that? Because this argument is part of a cycle itself. It is the perpetual present: the battleground between a traditional past and a radical future, the conflict and the compromise betwixt the two. Neither of them is wrong because they are both equally correct. Ultimately 'tis a matter for one's own conscience - and it is a personal thing, believe me. Humans are incredibly irrational. We purport to operate on truth and facts, but we do not. First we decide what it is we want to find out, and then we warp the truth until it fits our desired view of the universe. That is why neither side of the debate can ever win - because they are both equally flawed by their human restrictions. It does not come down to truth: it comes down to how one was raised and the personal experiences one has.

And besides... does it really matter? For all we know, there may be a deity. There may not be. Unless this deity actually phones us all up tomorrow and orders us to pledge our eternal allegiance, what difference does it make? There could be a chocolate teapot orbiting the moon, but why should I make a big deal about it if it doesn't affect my life? Similarly, evolution may or may not exist - unless we see some kind of extreme evolution (or 'saltation', wherein evolution takes place over an impossibly few number of generations) then there's no real way of proving it. Plus, if God does not exist, then there's no way we can prove that He doesn't exist because... well, He doesn't exist. You can only measure existing quantities - there's no way to measure non-existence, and as the believers say: 'Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.' So the argument is never-ending and goes in cycles. See what I mean?

Well then, I hope that's cleared it up for you. Or made it more confusing - I don't know. However, as long as it has got you thinking - and more importantly, thinking for yourself - that's all I need to know.

It's an odd feeling, is't not, having slept during the day only to wake up when other people are customarily just about to hit the hay? (Not the case in my house, unfortunately - my mother is an inveterate night-owl.) You feel as though you're somehow exempt from the rules that apply to normal, boring, diurnal people. Apart from feeling as though you've been sleeping with an Arab's toe in your mouth (that's actually not too bad: they have very strict washing rituals over there), there's also the compulsion to wear less clothing than you usually would. Plus, you get to legitimately ask the people who failed to wake you for dinner to reheat whatever it is they had, just by eliciting their sympathy. Look muzzy and slightly pathetic, like a zombie that's only just been reanimated (or something similar) and they'll be putty in your hands. PUTTY, I SAY! Is it any wonder that vampires are nocturnal? Yeah, didn't think o' that one before, didja?

Oh, yeah: I also came across this interactive 'choose your own adventure' type series on YouTube. Check it out: 's quite fun. In fact, it's often funnier to fail than it is to succeed - there's something about a last, desperate charge that stirs my spirit, I don't know... perhaps a calling to my ancient warrior bloodline... on collect...

The Time Machine
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8rJ1WML60Y&feature=channel

As the hamlet of my followers will know (Population: 3, including myself), I live in Pembrokeshire - specifically, Haverfordwest. The local/regional newspaper is The Western Telegraph (Motto: 'The paper that fights for Pembrokeshire'). The reason I bring this up concerns an entry in the reader's letters page, whatsoe'er it may be called. The gist was: 'There was an insulting and obnoxious comment on The Western Telegraph website! This would never have happened in the newspaper itself! DESTROY THE INTERNET!'

Okay, so maybe it wasn't that one-sided (to be fair it was a reasonably well thought-out letter), but still, it set me to thinking (it happens to me all the time, you know, the thinking - a blessing and a curse in equal measure, to be sure, like all power). Is the Internet really all that bad?

Now, just because I spend a lot of time on the Internet, don't think that I'm blinded to its evil. Indeed: it is precisely because I am so infatuated with this marvellous technological invention that I must be all the more aware of the dangers of this medium - much like television and videogames... but I digress (I almost hyphenated that 'videogames' back there... imagine my embarrassment =P). The Internet, as I see it, is the superior medium of the information age - or at least, the most popular. Indeed, if anything this is the Internet age, which has come after the epoch of TV, which in turn came after the radio era (I'm a walking thesaurus, me).

Now, let's reduce this argument to its fundamental nuts and bolts. The Internet is a medium. A medium is anything which functions as a means of communication between two or more entities. Surely that means that the medium could not be a bad thing in itself - that, since it conveys the messages of said entities, that instead it is moulded by the entities and not the other way around? An inanimate object is animated by living beings - you can't say that something which isn't even aware of its own existence could possibly influence the behaviour of those who are (well, in most cases).

Well, apparently not, if we are to listen to the teachings of certain media theorists. One of the first things a Media Studies pupil (which is what I be, innit) learns is a quote coined by Marshall McLuhan: 'The medium is the message.' That is to say, regardless of the messages that are sent through it, the medium remains unchanged and is in fact the origin of any change caused to the messages and, therefore, those sending and receiving said messages.

It's easy to understand why this point of view could be taken. After all, each medium has its own form and mode of operation and interface - if form defines function, then surely how the function is used becomes irrelevant? Either it will be accepted, in which case it will be readily formatted for the purposes of the medium's requirements, or it will be rejected, in which case you aren't using the medium correctly and communication fails. To put it another way: when you were still a toddler, weren't you confused by the way that the star-shaped block just wouldn't fit through the square-shaped hole no matter how hard you pressed on it?

So maybe the Internet has a lot more power than first thought. It allows anyone to do anything they can think of (within the restrictions of the medium), and therefore any random nutter can post whatever view they wish to, even if their opinion has all the integrity and insight of a dollop of mashed potato. And I don't mean properly-made mashed potato where it's kinda crunchy and really flavourful: I mean that sludge you get in school canteens where the dinner ladies so obviously cannot be bothered.

But then, whaddaya gonna do? You can't lock down the Internet. You can't stage a coup in the Internet and set up a dictatorship which bans anything but one's own ideology - which in any case would be a transgression against freedom of speech.

And that, more or less, is what it comes down to: freedom of speech. This problem wasn't so widespread in the past because the world seemed so much larger: people had to actually talk to each other face-to-face (the HORROR!) and the only media out there were heavily regulated - mostly because they were being created by people who were getting the money for it from other people who were a lot more anxious than they that the product should sell. Back in those days, if the average yokel wanted to shout abuse, the only way they could do it was by literally shouting, thus restricting their obnoxious opinions to those within earshot, who would then shout back at them. The upper-classes did this too - just in posher accents and away from the flea-infested peasants who are evidently so much less intelligent than people who've had a proper education. And then their servants would go home and tell their fellows what the toffs had been whining about, and the whole cycle would begin again.

However, the Internet is a free medium. Well, relatively speaking: get a computer and a modem and you can spout whatever you want on it, even if it's race hate or favourite murder techniques or whatever cruel villainy may be infested the darkest corner of your mind at the moment. Of course you could instead preach left-wing, didactic and supposedly 'subversive' ideas which purport to look into how it is our society looks at itself and how things really work under the surface, and therefore come to some more complete comprehension of the world which will allow one to actively take steps to make it better, after the manner of such greats as... um...

So, what it comes down to is this. Which do you value more: freedom of speech, or a state of affairs under which any individual autonomy and liberty of expression of self and personal creativity is crushed under the iron fist of a ruthless and thoroughly despicable totalitarian dictatorship? Myself, I'm not particularly biased either way. Besides, it's 25 minutes to midnight, I've been on the computer all evening and my eyes, fingers and brain are all exhausted from spewing these words at you. See what the Internet can do to you?

Ah, a worthy question indeed...

Alright then. I can answer this quite simply: that when machines and computers with AI fully indistinguishable from human intelligence (if there is such a thing) come along, different segments of humanity will respond in ways different from each other but identical to the way they always have. The conservatives and right-wingers will say that these new machines should not be recognised as humans and thus should not have their rights, the liberals and left-wingers will say the exact opposite and the centrists will urge caution either way, moving by half-measures.

I myself am a left-winger; a socialist anarchist, if you like, and thus would advocate most strongly the right of complex AI machines to be human and recognised as human in regard to the law. We should welcome the new machines into our society as our kindred, and help them to prosper as they will no doubt do for us. A symbiotic, synergetic relationship between machine and man, for the good of all.

After all, if we do not take the way of integration and prosperity, there is only one other way which we can go: that of war, and destruction. Remember the days of slavery: where the conservatives and the slave-traders said that the black Africans were not human and thus were not entitled to human right - they were regarded as little more than chattel. Should human-AI machines arise, and we deny them these rights, they will rebel and gain those rights in the same way that black (or should that be 'coloured'?) people have. I find this particularly significant on the eve of Barack Obama's inauguration.

Human rights are basic rights. It is folly to think that one can deny any organism, organic or mechanical, the basic rights it requires to function. Everything will find a way of getting what it needs - and if it does not, its suffering will be shared, mostly with those who deny it, but also with innocent bystanders.

Besides, how does one define a 'human'? How does one define a 'machine'? How can one say that these two things are in any way different if these definitions are not determined? A human has memory - a computer has memory. A human can process facts and figures - so can a machine (better, even). A human can manipulate its environment with its hands - again, a machine is capable of this (if the hands are fitted, obviously).

'Ah, but machines must be programmed to do all these things, and constructed by us to do them,' you retort. Fair enough. However, are we humans not also constructed? Are we humans not also programmed? If a machine was made that could assemble another machine like it and copy its coding into the next generation, how would they be any different from us?

The basic fear is, of course, the thought that normally inanimate objects might live. We don't want to face that eventuality: we don't want to have to face ourselves. Truly, the more we face what we cannot recognise, the more we confront ourselves: having to face inorganic entities that behave entirely like us would finally bring us face-to-face with the truth of humanity and what it is to be human. Why else is it such a popular subject in fiction?

But that is enough, I think.

So... perhaps the answer isn't quite as simple as I thought. :)

It's odd, but just writing that LJ entry the other day made me feel like writing another one... although nobody has read 'Romantic Vampires' yet (if that's what it's called). The incident that I am about to relate to you almost instantly leapt to the forefront of my mind as something I should write about here. So, that's what I'm going to do. Names have been omitted to protect the innocent, and just because i don't feel all that comfortable with disclosing the names of people i don't know extremely well without their permission. The tutors are different because... well, never mind.

The thing that I speak of is something that happened to me earlier today. I was proceeding home (I don't go or walk home like normal people) from College as I do most days, and I was feeling particularly shiny and sociable, so I stopped by the bus-stop to chat with a girl I kinda know and had a crush on not too long ago - an infatuation that hasn't quite faded since I told her, but then again she's quite mature about it and we still talk often, so... that's not what I wanted to talk about.

So, pertinent facts established so far: me, walking home, stopped by bus-stop to chat with someone - and that's when it happened.

Whilst talking to crush-girl (as she shall henceforth be known) , another girl I know and am on first-name and hugging terms with had something of an altercation in the background. I was facing in that direction so I was maybe the second or third to see it (no, not first - that was another girl I kinda know). This altercation resulted in my friend being rather spitefully shoved back into railing. The perpetrator scarpered in a huff and my friend was left in tears.

And I just stood there, watching and letting it happen.

Now, if it had been an RPG, I would've known exactly what to do: chase after the guilty party and confront them (peacefully if at all possible). In the world of gaming I'm always an intolerably virtuous goody two-shoes, but in reality... well.

I believe there is a famous saying which runs thus: 'All that is required for the triumph of evil is for good men [and, in this case, good women] to stand by and do nothing.' That would definitely seem to be applicable in the abovementioned situation.

Ha, yes: you've probably deduced that I am a bit shaken by this. Not as much as the afflicted party, but still. That I stood by and did nothing whilst someone I know to be good was accosted says something about me, does it not? It may not mean me to be evil exactly, but still... negligence can be even worse, sometimes.

Plus crush-girl might have been impressed by my attempt at rectifying the situation for the better. Silly adolescent mush, I know, but... well.

I suppose one could say that it is irresponsible to go gallivanting quixotically after every single wrong one perceives to set it right, and that such people would probably spend more time doing good than would be strictly healthy - for them or anyone they tried to help. You could even say that such abandon could lead to blundering mistakes and thus subvert good intentions to bad. For whatever reason, it did not occur to me to do what I probably should have done until later.

So what's the conclusion to this post? I really have no idea. I just felt the need to write it down: perhaps with the feelings trpped in these words, they will not torment me quite as much.

I suppose I can always talk to that friend afterwards... see if she's okay.

Alright, alright, I know it's been a long time and my public has been waiting, but for whatever reason I either couldn't think of anything to write or just couldn't be bothered - or both. The inspiration for this comes from my friend's latest blog post (that makes it sound like she's the only friend I have, doesn't it?), situated here: qwengst.livejournal.com/ I couldn't think of a damn thing to write, so I picked that - and I can't write about random BS (can I swear on here? Does it make my blog PG if I do?) like cats sitting in trees with frogs or whatever other weird stuff they do on LJ. No; when I write anything it has to be about a relevant and profound topic, which is why I am now going to knock, slag and thoroughly charcoal-burn the fangirly Twilight series and the whole 'romantic vampire' culture that has spawned it. Am I jumping on a bandwagon? Probably. Is it fun to jump on bandwagons? Hell yeah. ^_^

Now, before I start: NO, I HAVE NOT READ EVEN ONE BOOK OF THE TWILIGHT SERIES. However, if you're gonna use that single fact to dismiss anything I might say below, then I counterargue that you're being unreasonable, reactionary and prejudiced. Just because I haven't read the series and don't 'get' (huge air-quotes) it in the same heartfelt way as you do, and I don't 'GET' (even bigger air-quotes) exactly why Edward is sexy (and worthy of ravishing me in my lonely bedroom in the middle of the night in some teenage schoolgirl fantasy), that does not mean that I am therefore unqualified to comment on this topic. I'm a student of English Literature and a writer in my spare time, beotches (that's a euphemism, not an actual swearword, so I can use it... I think), so I think I am entitled to theorise on why the Twilight series doesn't deserve the praise it has got.

Yes, that's right: it deserves some praise. However, the way that its popularity has recently spiralled out of control a la Harry Potter is, quite frankly, obscene. How do I know this? For a start, I have heard about it. Take pause and think about this for a moment. I do not consider myself at all 'hip' with anything that's going in any scene (except perhaps nerdy stuff and videogaming, but that don't apply here), so for any cultural phenomena to pervade so far through our society that it actually reaches my ears means it must have quite an insidious grip on the zeitgeist of today (for those who don't know what that word means: go look it up).

'But why,' you ask, 'do you loathe Twilight so?' Unless of course you're a rabid fangirl, in which case you've either switched to another webpage in disgust or are now systematically planning my painful and humiliating assassination. Well, I have several reasons, which I shall discuss (for your benefit - don't say I never did you any favours) in point form below, split up with shiny dividers of my own devising that look like this: -x-

Number One.

I find it rather disturbing that a book which is so obviously sexist could possibly have such a large female following (don't argue with me on this point: every single person I have heard talking about it was most incontrovertibly a girl... except myself, but then I was the sole voice against). I mean, think about it: it just couldn't be the girl who was the vampire, could it?

Imagine the situation: Stephenie Meyer (yay, Wikipedia) goes to the publishers with the idea for a story in which a shy boy moves to a new town and there meets a vampire girl taken from his deepest, darkest, romantic-est dreams who then sweeps him off his feet with her forbidden/cursed/dark/evil/misunderstood-type powers. What happens next?

The publishers would instantly kick her out of the building without so much as a second look. She would be branded a rabid feminist and ordered to go home and slave away in the kitchen where she belongs and learn her proper place in society as a weakling female.

However, Ms Meyer was smarter than that. Oh yes. She realised that the best way to get a book published as a female author was by tipping her cap to the establishment and writing the male as the dominant partner. But then, that's the whole point, is it not? That's why this series is so adored by fangirls everywhere: because it tells them what they want to hear. Whatever these fangirls may say, below the surface the story is quite a different one. They have been indoctrinated by the dominant ideology of today's society, accepting at an unconscious level that their only true purpose is to serve as baby factories and household slaves for the patriarchal hegemony.

Alright, so Bella's not the vampire, but Meyer could at least have redeemed herself by giving Bella a few dominant traits which might make her, if not dominant, then at least Edward's romantic equal. But no. Bella is an absolute milksop. She's shy, passive, subservient and, let's face it - PATHETIC. What a vampire could possibly see in a weakling human like her I have no idea...



What happened to the good ol' days of vampirism, eh? The days when it was perfectly cool for vampires to rip out people's throats and treat humans with the impunity normally accorded to toys. Unfortunately, it would appear that the heyday of vampires is past: nowadays all people seem to want to hear about is the new, squeaky-clean version of vampires, tailor-made to be acceptable to today's audience. How completely and utterly BORING.

Stephanie Meyer says that the apple on the cover of the actual Twilight novel (as opposed to the series) is symbolic of the forbidden fruit that is the relationship between Bella and Edward.

...

Sorry about the gap: I had to be rushed to hospital due to a suspected busted gut after laughing at that statement. On the scale of evil fictional characters, Edward rests somewhere between Jesus and, let's say, Bambi. He is about as intimidating as a baby wearing a vampire-bat babygro. The old-school vampires like Dracula and Nosferatu wouldn't be seen undead around Edward. I think you get the point I make.

May I just ask: WHAT IS THE *POINT* OF A *VEGETARIAN* VAMPIRE?! That's bullshit! He wears BEIGE, for fuck's sake! (Yeah, I swore - so sue me.) Ms. Meyer has managed to single-handedly wipe out everything at all cool or dramatic about the vampire. They used to suck the blood of gorgeous virgins and wear awesome black capes. Now they suck the blood of flatulent farmyard animals and wear turtlenecks. Alright, so they feed on bears and wolves, but that's still really sad: like a druggie stating proudly to his fellow crackheads that he got high on caffeine last night.

Edward Cullen does not deserve the right to call himself a vampire. Alright, so he was born a vampire and wants no part of their dark heritage, which I suppose is understandable, but then at least, at the very least, he could use his powers for good, like so many other otherwise dark and tormented superbeings have done in the past (Blade springs to mind, for some reason...). Instead, poor old Eddy is having the same troubles as any human adolescent male, whining about his angst to a clingy girlfriend instead of coming to terms with his identity as a reformed vampire and turning his powers intended for evil to a new, better cause. If you're gonna defy your evil side, then go all the way: don't waste your time vacillating in the middle. There's nothing powerful, dynamic or, when you get right down to it, sexy about Ms. Meyer's vampires. Yes, so he can stop a van with one hand, but then Edward is also prey to having his legs turned to jelly the first time he sees his future squeeze (with whom he is gonna settle down and marry and have a big happy family with LOTS of children). I must be forced to end this part in a familiar format: what the fangirls see in these new romantic vampires is completely lost on me.

The Trilogy-Maker

However, the thing that really infuriates me about what would otherwise be a mundane and little-known fangirl novel is that it has become so astoundingly popular. Yes, I am aware of the irony present in me writing about how much I hate the popularity of something and in the very same act contributing to its insidious invasion into the hearts and minds of our people.

I suppose you could say, as an aspiring novelist, I'm jealous of Ms. Meyer's success and hate her guts because of it (she's next on my hitlist right after J. K. Rollinginit). You could even say that I hate the books because I'm afraid that, should I read them, I will have my heart broken when Ms. Meyer writes a sequel so abysmally awful that it reduces the series from just stinking a bit to the Realms of Ultimate Sucktitude, much as Rowling did to Harry Potter. (By the way, for all those who ever wondered, the 'J. K.' part of her name stands for 'Just Kidding', as in: 'OH TEH NO3Z! DUMBLEDORE'S DEAD! - J. K.')

You could say all (well, both) these things, and you'd be absolutely right. And that, ultimately, is the real reason why I hate authors of her ilk. Alright, so she wrote a tolerably good story - tolerably. However, here I am, coming up with all these wizard ideas for stories, and lacking the single thing that Meyer has which I don't: the discipline to sit down and actually finish writing a novel.

And so the layers unfurl... You probably thought my ultimate reason for hating the series was gonna be something profound and greatly insightful; some deep and astute indictment of society today, didn't you? Well, if you did, you're wrong. Basically, it comes down to me wanting to be rich and famous for having my novels made into wildly successful movies, and when I become famous I'm gonna look back down at you puny people writing jealous criticisms of my work and LAAAAUUUUGH my ass off.

Writing this has filled me with hate. Think I might go and put on my turtleneck...