Eight things

Well well well, three holes in the ground. Looks like I've been tagged by the lovely Lacey! And like a moth to a flame, or a fat kid to junk food, I'm drawn to a good meme even though I know they're not good for me.

I'm supposed to write seven things I like, then tag seven people. Sounds simple enough, but I think I'll try for the more... unusual... likes. Everybody likes chocolate; I want (as always!) to be a bit different.

1) I like lying on the floor. Or sitting on the floor. I feel more comfortable, more confident, and more like I've chosen my own place to be. Lying on my back staring at the ceiling has the added side-effect of making me giggle uncontrollably for absolutely no reason. Peculiar, maybe, but a good laugh is always enjoyable! So, yes. Being on the floor.

2) I like thinking about ambitious interior design projects that never come to fruition. From the bedslide that I wanted when I was ten, to the canvas wall hangings that would look like doors and windows into other worlds, I've always had a 'dream room' in mind. I still think the wall hangings would be ace, actually.

3) I like my brother. My best friend growing up was always baffled by this; she had one big sister and they fought all the time, but my brother has always been one of my best friends. We have a similar sense of humour, and as this source of all wisdom says, "Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew you when you were young."

4) I like poetry! I like poetry so much! I enjoy the visceral feel of Salome by Carol Ann Duffy; the macabre tone of Poe's Raven; the earthy vocal poetry of Scroobius Pip, and the mellow introspection of Wordsworth. For some reason, poetry is the art form that resonates with me the most. One of my (very few) ambitions is to get some of my own published.

5) I like my bears. I have three: Strangler (so called because he is golden brown), Thomas, and a little white bear called Susan(I don't have any photos of Susan online. She's white, holds three red roses, and you can record and play messages by squeezing her paws). They are adorable. I put Strangler's heart in myself, at the Bear Factory, so he's very special. Thomas is very special because he's Gavin's as well, and Susan is special because I met her in a charity shop and took her home to Gav. I love my bears.

6) I like my post-shower routine. I take long showers, about half an hour usually, but that's nothing to what I'm like afterwards. It's a constant source of frustration to Gav that I like to set aside an entire evening to shave, moisturise, cleanse, tone, pluck and buff the appropriate areas. It is a lot of unnecessary hassle, but there's something very soothing about taking a bit of time to care for my appearance.

7) I like me. Not every day, but enough. I'm ok.

I won't nominate anyone, not this time, but feel free to write your own. Drop me a link in the comments if you do, I'd love to see what you write!
Oh and lest I forget, the Interesting Thing of the Day is the legendary HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy text adventure! After all, it was apparently Towel Day today. Rock on. Now, just to warn you, this game is damn near impossible. Only play it if you have a healthy disregard for such concepts as 'sanity,' 'savepoints' and 'free time.'

Lost girls

They are not bad children, the ones who go missing. Red Riding Hood, for example, was raised as well as most (and a great deal better than some.) She merely fell prey, as so many do, to the irresistable lure of the woods.

How many have been tempted astray by a wandering moonbeam? A white rabbit? The brightest flowers (always, somehow, just a little further off)?

The stars distract me. My feet to stray from the path, beaten by the feet of a thousand men; the only sure way home. My eyes turned skywards, I mindlessly walk into shadow so deep that I never
stop
f
.a
..l
...l
....i
.....n
......g...

Persephone, Alice, and me - we three
Went down to the forest to play.
Seph gave a shiver and ran to the river,
Just Alice and me got away.

Myself and Alice well knew, we two,
It's bad to stay out on your own.
We stayed close together 'til she chased a feather
And left me out there on my own.

FAO Wil Wheaton

Wil's just written a blog post that I am somehow unable to comment on, so I'm writing my response here. I'll try to draw it to his attention - maybe wrap it around a bouncy ball and throw it down his chimney - but the likelihood is he won't read it. Never mind eh!

See, all this kerfuffle is about this video saying it's ok to be a geek. That you don't have to play D+D to be passionate about tech things. Wil feels that this casts 'traditional' geeks, like himself, in a derogatroy light.

Wil, I think I speak for all of me when I say: WAT.

I can't tell you anything about Slackware and Debian, am I not a geek? Or have I accrued enough Geek Points in other areas to be grudgingly permitted to associate with those like you?

"It's like a slap in the face to be associated with these people who claim to be like me." I know it's not what you intended, but that looks like dickery from here. It looks like an elitist jab at people who are trying to redefine what was once an insult. You've embraced the stereotype, they're challenging it. Does that make them wrong? Just how separatist do you have to get about a label that can't even be defined?

I agree with Wyldfire42. However much it might irk you to be lumped in with celebrities, geek isn't binary - it's a spectrum.

Beatboxing! Yes, again.

How have I never seen this before? Huge thanks to Innocent Loverboy for this one!

Nathan "Flutebox" Lee is probably the best, and most certainly the best-known, at what he does.
And as for Beardyman, he's undoubtedly the most entertaining beatboxer in Britain! There's a reason he was the UK champ two years running, know what I mean?

Both performers became 'internet famous' through their YouTube videos. Odds are you've already seen this one, but I'm sure you won't mind seeing it again!

This is my first beatbox-related video in a while, but feel free to click the relevant tag at the bottom and see my history here. It's a colourful one that involves sleeping with (in the same room as) seven strangers, finding true love, and throwing up on a vicar. Just so you know.

Nostalgia: the Bandstand

Well, I've been wanting to write this post for ages, but I really wanted to take my time with it. This post is about something very precious and important to me.

The church I went to growing up was boring. Dull, dull, dull. Don't get me wrong: I love it very much, and it will always feel like my home, but it was just impossible to get excited about singing those dirges from the 19th century. It was geared towards the older people, which made sense as there were loads of them, but for the kids... well, it failed to thrill us.

Which was why the Bandstand was so special.

That's what it was called, the Bandstand. It felt like a separate world. It happened in the summer, late on a Sunday night, and it was like nothing else I've ever experienced...

(I'm speaking, of course, with the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia perched on my nose. That's often how it goes with things that end before you grow up. I'm almost glad it did; doubtless it would never have been the same if I'd gone there as a teenager, sulking and scowling my way through the hymns...)

This is how it would happen: our mother, not wanting us to get tired while we were there, would insist that we take a nap beforehand. Let me tell you, never in my life was it harder to sleep than on a beautiful summer day before the Bandstand. Mum would close the heavy yellowy-gold curtains of our bedroom, and there in the yellow-gold light, we'd try (and often fail) to sleep.

Then we'd go to a little park in a little town on a little island. The birds in the aviary would chirp and sing as we passed, walking towards the river. Bright lights would illuminate the stepping stones, the beautiful plants, and the magical, elusive little fish that flitted through the water.

Most of my siblings fell in that river at one point! when it was my turn, it was a consequence of a selfless act... one of about three I committed before the age of 12. Maybe that's why I remember it. My brother was sailing a little leaf-boat past the stepping stones, reaching out to catch it as it floated past, until (inevitably) he let it go beyond the reach of his little boy arms. So, me being on Big Sister duty, I stretched to catch it... and fell in. The lights made everything so strange and beautiful, and I swear that in that half a second I saw the bright orange fishes swimming around me.

We weren't allowed to stay on the stepping stones, or to climb the trees, or to play in the park for long, though. Because over by the bandstand structure itself, in front of a little raised and covered platform near the trees, a tiny congregation would gather in the fading light as the night grew colder, singing from a little booklet of hymns. A friendly man with a goatee played the keyboard from the platform, playing the songs that we rarely sang outside of this one special occasion. I often wondered how the people who were so stiff and formal in a building on Sunday mornings, could be so at peace in the breathtaking wonder of nature?

Three or four minutes away from those harmonies that rose above the enthusiastic midges, was a playpark - a magical place for us kids. We'd go there every time, pretend the roundabout was taking us to places that only existed in our imaginations. And the swings! When you got them high enough, right at the top of the arc, you could see over the hedge to the edge of the world, where the sun set over neverending ocean, and nothing else. Just sea and sky. For those brief seconds, I could rise above all the world and be so completely free.

Even if there was never a God, that would be enough.

I know these songs will mean nothing to you, but to me, they mean so much. If you want to hear them, and you've got Spotify - I've only managed to remember / track down these three - click this link:
http://open.spotify.com/user/thiefree/playlist/4Yb0ZVGtOQGZNvwaHM4Cmq

This is a really long shot, but there was one song I remember the most. It was the one people would always be so eager to sing, another song that was unique to that time and that place - so much so that it's not online. Not anywhere. I've written what I remember of the lyrics below... if you can tell me anything about it, I'd be so grateful!

It's a new life, oh how He changed me
A new life, He rearranged me,
A new life, richer and fuller,
It's a wonderful, wonderful life!

Gone is the old life and gone are its chains,
Gone are the wrinkles and gone are the stains,
Gone is the darkness and gone is the night,
I have found Jesus, the truth and the life...

I went back once, years ago, and took these pictures. So although it wasn't the same - how could it be? - I at least have these reminders.

Stephen Hawking's wicked sense of humour

I have to say, over the past two years, due to the company I keep, I've found myself appreciating the darker side of humour. The kind of humour that (not to put too fine a point on it) is considered offensive to many. That's why, when I saw a cartoon about Stephen Hawking that many would consider 'distasteful,' I did have a guilty chuckle.

I'm beginning to suspect that this dark streak is shared by none other than the Professor himself. My evidence?

Well, to start with, he's played a parody of himself: in Dilbert, Red Dwarf, Futurama and the Simpsons - as well as being the only person to play themselves in an episode of Star Trek: TNG.

Of course, all that could be merely courting publicity. Plenty of celebrities parody themselves without ever really 'getting' the joke - I'm looking at you, Britney - but what do you think of these?

"Chosen by asker" being the key part here! And the cartoon I mentioned earlier:

This controversial cartoon has recently provoked rage from many (here and here, for example). Stephen Hawking himself, of course, has asked for the original.

If anyone has a right to decide whether that's 'allowed' to be funny or not, it's him, surely! I hope you'll join me in wishing the Prof a speedy recovery. Get Well Soon, Stephen Hawking.

Round-up time

I haven't really updated people on my life in a while. One of the reasons I started blogging was so that old friends could check in on me and see how I was doing. With that in mind, this is what I've been doing lately:

I've started that photography course! The first day was on Tuesday. It was fun, explained things nice and clearly, and I've got high hopes for the coming few weeks. At on point we were left to roam the streets for a while taking photos with a particular theme in mind, and this was a LOT more fun than ambling about by myself! I took this one during that free-range half hour:

We're going to get some dark-room time at some point, which I was very excited about until I actually saw it. Red lighting is possibly the creepiest lighting imaginable.

I've been getting to the gym more regularly, which is already making a difference. I still feel fat and wobbly, but at least I can do sit-ups now! No kidding, I couldn't do one the first time I went. I plan on getting better, especially now that the gauntlet's been thrown down...

Oh bring it ON. I know what Gavin's thinking now. He's fearing the moment we get to the gym, I lie down, and say (with a glint in my eye) "How many can Rich do? HOW MANY?!" From what I know of Rich, it can only end with one of us dead. So if you know Rich, you might want to say your goodbyes.

I went to this thing called Trydan today. It's pronounced "trudd-en," for no good reason other than that it's Welsh *shrug*. Crazy language, I'm telling you. Anyway, it's basically a Cardiff social media café (nerdy people talking), and it's fantastic! I finally got to meet @carlmorris, who is a lovely and very interesting chap. I'm thinking of getting on the Wiki and suggesting that we introduce board games to the process... we meet at the Juno Lounge, which conveniently provides board games! Must check that out. I'd love to run a connect-4 tournament. Or Chess Wars! Amazing.

Right! the other thing I wanted to do was catch up on all the "interesting thing of the days" that I've been steadily accruing and forgetting to share. So, with apologies for the link bombardment, here we go:

Tweenbots. Little cardboard robots that need human help to get to their destination. I like to see it as evidence of basic human goodness.
Freakangels. I'm nothing short of ashamed that I haven't posted this before. It's a stunning online graphic novel (worlds apart from a webcomic). The art and story are superb, and the fact that its creator is a mad bastard should not dissuade you from enjoying it. It may even enhance the experience.
Datamancer. I've written about steampunk before, and Datamancer's breathtaking computer mods have come to epitomise steampunk design for many. I mean, c'mon, look at this laptop. It's a thing of beauty!

Run. I posted a link to this on my Twitter, it's a simple and addictive flash game. I can't finish level 50, and that knowledge will gnaw at my soul for all eternity... click at your own risk!

Alright, I think that's your lot, hopefully you'll be hearing from me again soon.

Susan Boyle: a cynic's view

You are being manipulated.

Maybe you've seen this video. Maybe, as with so many of the commenters, you've been moved to tears. The world is in uproar over this performance. More people have seen this video than watched Obama's victory speech. So what is it that makes her so special?

You are being manipulated.

Well, she has a wonderful voice, but we all know that's only half of it. The point is, she has a wonderful voice despite not looking like a star. See the looks of doubt and mockery sprinkled throughout the audience, and even the judges. The audience think she's a freak. The judges are playing their parts well.

Then Susan Boyle sings, and she can sing. It's a smack in the face. It's a shock. It's the ultimate ugly duckling story: a sad life story, the victim of bullying; ugly, yet quirky and irrepressably cheerful (with undertones of melancholy) - the 'talent scouts' who approved her submission must have thought they'd hit the jackpot.

I am being cynical, I know, but cynicism is merited with this breed of 'talent show.' How many ugly girls with beautiful voices do they turn away in a day? How many do they pressure and ridicule because it makes good TV? The people in charge of these programmes are in complete control of every detail. I expect every wiggle of the hips, every cheeky smile that fell from Susan's stage was subtly suggested behind the scenes.

"This isn't some contrived media event from the pop-culture factory. This is real." So claims Steve Rosenbaum of the Huffington Post. Steve, you underestimate the factory; they planned it, they filmed it, they edited it to take full advantage of every aspect of this story, and they fed it to the world.

I'm guessing it has worked better than even they expected. Everyone who works for that show, who stands to make a profit, who makes a living from playing these games - I bet they're delighted that this has gone viral. And good for Susan, I say, and I hope she enjoys it; because when the glow's faded a little, life goes on as it always did. I just hope there's a job for her in her new life.

Any voice even vaguely critical of this viral spectacle gets thumbs-downed so hard it never recovers, and yet here I am saying it again: we are being manipulated.

And yet, this whole kerfuffle has awoken new feelings in people. It has reminded them that we judge too readily; that we look too harshly on imperfection; that there are still things to be fought for and won, however late in the game. So who am I to stomp on the fragile bird of hope? Believe what you want to believe about Susan, but don't trust the show that made her. Read Chart Throb by Ben Elton, I think you'll find it eye-opening.

To: Every Boy Ever

First off, read this article about Every Girl Ever. This blog post won't make much sense otherwise!

Hi, every boy ever! Thanks for writing that article about our date. It really shows how much you understand women. It was really helpful to me; I hadn't realised what a vapid, talkative, irrational bitch I was until you pointed it out! Still, us women are all crazy, as you told me yourself, so I guess it can't be helped.

Anyway, about that date. Sorry I spent so long in the bathroom; there's nothing like a slightly disappointed look from your date to bolster your self-esteem. I was trying to make myself pretty enough to meet your high standards. Well, they're obviously high, because when you saw that photo of my friends, you called Beth (who, by the way, has a body I would die for) "the fat one." You're so funny! With that kind of sensitivity, you must be a hit with the ladies.

I would have done the hair and makeup stuff sooner, obviously, but I was busy having a life of my own that didn't involve you. Can you believe that? I know for next time not to be so rude!

But hey, I know you're really a gentleman, right? You opened the car door for me! And the smug, self-righteous look you gave as you did it was just so cute!

Did I talk too much over dinner? Oh jeez, I'm sorry. I do that. Especially when my date is staring silently out the window with his head on his hand. If I'd known in advance that you didn't care about my job, or my family, or me, I could have saved us both a lot of time!

Still, wasn't it great that we bumped into my friends? It spared us from spending any more time alone together in awkward silence, even though that was SO exciting!

It's such a shame that you didn't hit it off with Christine; that would have saved me a lot of trouble. I don't like her that much, but I still felt bad about leaving you there with her. I thought maybe you just didn't like me, and that you were a nice enough guy with other people. Guess not! Still, at least I managed to have some fun while you weren't around!

Thanks for the ride home. It was really nice of you, although I did seriously consider making the three mile walk alone rather than endure the painful silence of your hatemobile. I feel bad for misleading you into thinking that we were going to have sex. For some reason, nobody ever told me that a date constitutes a legally binding contract!

Anyway, maybe I'll see you around, or maybe I'll work very damn hard to make sure that never happens. Also, you kiss like a fish.

Recommended blogs and flower pics

Yesterday, I went to a wedding. The wedding was unique and wonderful, and worthy of a better post than I can write today. so I hope you'll bear with me until I get the photos uploaded.

(On a related note, I want everyone in the photos to be able to find them easily; so after much consideration and sulking, I've decided that I may have to reactivate my Facebook account. SIGH.)

Until then, I thought it was time I wrote about a few of my fellow bloggers. There are some remarkably entertaining, intelligent people out there on the internet, and I fully intend to find all of them. Eventually.

Here, then, are a few blogs I read and enjoy.

1. It's no secret that Wil Wheaton is a fantastic writer, as well as a lovely chap. If you're even remotely interested in geek culture, gaming, writing, or just reading about the life of a strange normal bloke / internet celebrity, I really can't think of anywhere better to go. WWdN: In Exile
2. Meg Pickard* writes for the Guardian, takes wonderful photographs, and is endlessly fun to read. Her site, Meish.org, is also the home of the infamous anti-Valentine's cards.
3. I've only been reading Boobs, Injuries and Dr Pepper for a little while, but she's funny, and fascinating, and I fully expect to continue reading for a long while to come.
4. Innocent Loverboy is a sweet and sexy student who blogs about life, love, and the chaos that comes with it. Give his blog a looksee, and if you like it, tell him I sent you!

In the year since I wrote this post linking to other blogs*, I'm embarrassed to say that my reading list hasn't got much longer. This is where you come in. If you'd all be very kind, I'd like you to post your favourite blog in the comments section. For everyone who does me this favour, I'll click their name and take a look at their blog as well. It's only fair, right?

*Yes, Anna and Meg are related. Sisters. And it does show in their writing styles, and the things they get irritated by; which I think is very charming.