Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, Robot

The following movie reviews are not what you might call professional, because sometimes I don't pay attention.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy:
I really wanted to like this film. It's got Gary Oldman, Colin Firth, and Benedict Cumberbatch. What's not to like about that? It screams class and distinction, and I'm a cultured person who goes to the opera and everything, so I should like it, right?

Er, maybe.

It was very slow-paced, and the stiff upper lip mannerisms displayed by the main characters, while very in keeping with that time and world, serve to make the first half of the film drag severely. It's hard to engage emotionally when everyone on screen is doing their damnedest to act like feelings are for the little ladies. The saving grace of the first half was, in my opinion, a thoroughly enjoyable scene with Kathy Burke. I'd never seen her in a non-comedic role before, and was delighted and not a bit unnerved by her personable and slightly predatory character!

It did pick up towards the end, with Colin Firth getting to show off a bit more of his emotional range, but by the time the film finished I was left a bit unclear about what the whole endeavour had been for. My fault for going to the cinema while sleepy, I'm sure, but there it is.

Real Steel:
I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed this film. Oh, I know, I expected it to be rubbish too! I've heard the jokes: it's the movie adaptation of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots, and so forth, but honestly I haven't grinned through so much of a film in a long, long time.

Charlie, played by Hugh Jackman, is believable and likeable while still being deeply flawed. His son, Max, played by the unbelievably talented Dakota Goyo, had me thinking "that kid is SO BOSS" throughout the entire thing. He was born in '99, can you believe that? Ugh what am I doing with my life. And, oh yes, Evangeline Lilly as Bailey. I've only seen Evie as Kate in Lost before now, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Bailey is much less annoying. I'm being unfair... she was amazing in this. Really.

There were moments - very very brief, unmentioned moments - that asked big questions. One shot of a robot facing itself in a mirror, motionless, sparked off so many questions that were never touched on, but the film is all the better for it. This is shameless fluff, and addressing machine sentience is a little out of its grasp. Well done them for not overreaching. Don't make the mistake of interpreting that as an insult: the thing about feel good movies is that they make people feel good! I left the cinema with my heart barfing regenbogen and pleading for a sequel. There will be one. I am delighted.

So what have we learned? That Anna is not cultured, and that Dakota Goyo has a bright future. Oh and regenbogen is German for rainbow.

Tumblr has been bad for me

I have a tumblr. This is causing problems.

This post contains creepiness, swearing, and excessive lusting; so if you don't want your illusions of me shattered, or want to read me fangirling hard over gorgeous manfaces, ↓↓↓ scroll down to the kitty buffer. ↓↓↓

Otherwise, glad to have you with us and I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. This is my catharsis, ok? I write one, long, freakily obsessive post about Supernatural and then I never mention it again because you deserve better than this.

It started off innocently enough. People shared pictures and stories and opinions on their tumblrs, and a lot of them like the same things I do! They like Doctor Who, and Buffy, and this show I hadn't seen called Supernatural. Eventually, knowing that a couple of my friends really liked it, I decided to give it a go.

This was simultaneously the best and worst decision I've made in a long time.

You see, I love it. The story, the characters, the actors... but Tumblr doesn't leave it at that, oh no. It nourishes obsessions. So after the more immediate pleasures in discovering a new show to enjoy, I started discovering a few of the more... niche... aspects of the 'fandom'.

I discovered the slash fic. And I like it. Some of it is very well written. And from there I discovered RPS, real-person slash, which is... contentious, is probably the word. I like that too. I would probably keep very quiet about the fact if I ever met any of the cast, but still, there it is.

I discovered the lurid past of Jensen Ackles, and some of his more questionable fashion choices.
You have to understand just how gorgeous these people are. The whole damn show is oestrogen bait; the conventions are the lady-heaviest nerdcons I've ever seen.

Jeffrey Dean Morgan, aka John Winchester (and the Comedian from Watchmen!)

Matt Cohen (@mattcohen4real), aka young John Winchester (and others*)

Jensen Ackles, aka Dean Winchester

Ackles' frackles

Jared Padalecki (@jarpad), aka Sam Winchester

Misha Collins (@mishacollins), aka Castiel (and others*)

No but seriously though, his face

Richard Speight Jr (@dicksp8jr), aka the Trickster (and others*)

Rob Benedict (@robbenedict), aka Chuck Shirley, aka Carver Edlund

Mark Pellegrino, aka Lucifer

Sebastian Roche (@sebroche), aka Balthazar

Jim Beaver (@jumblejim), aka Bobby Singer

Mark Sheppard (@mark_sheppard), aka Crowley, aka Badger from Firefly, aka  Canton Delaware from Doctor Who,  aka Romo Lampkin from Battlestar Gal- actually you know what I'm just going to leave this here, it would be quicker to list the things he hasn't been in

Also I think there are some female characters? Apparently. (Although not many. The fans don't seem to like 'em...)

One of the unexpected side-effects of watching all the Supernatural (ALL the Supernatural!) is that the phrases "blue-steeling like a motherfucker," "male modelling sons of bitches" and "sweet merciful Zeus" have all become permanent fixtures in my mind.

*Spoilers, sweetie!

RIGHT KITTY BUFFER and then no more fangirling and / or lusting after strangers.

In other news, my birthday celebrations (cue update guilt, it feels like quite a while ago) went very very well indeed! I got sent on a fantastic treasure hunt that involved deciphering clues and getting the next one from whichever friend it pointed me to. I got a treasure chest at the end of it full of Lush products, which was just about perfect! The charity shop scavenger hunt I 'planned' went brilliantly; we got fancy hats, snazzy ties, and ugly ornaments aplenty.

Oh yeah, the ugly ornaments... the front-runner was a pottery bear-house that contained three little abominations. I mean, that thing is UGLY. But we had a surprise winner when the creepy pierrot-ish clown ornament turned out to be a music box. It's the most sinister thing, if I can I'll take some video of it because that thing needs to be in your nightmares as well as mine.

We went back to my house with the loot and had a barbecue / party / social gathering that really made my day. By midnight, when I actually turned 24, we had eaten, drunk and been merry, and continued to do so until bedtime.


I will attempt to curb my Tumblr dependency and update this more often, because there's not a shred of doubt in my mind that this is the more worthwhile endeavour. Something something tallest dwarf.

Hobbit wars

I'm just gonna leave these here.

So, this:

And then this:

Culminating in this:

No word on video of my poetry reading yet, I'm afraid, but I'll keep y'all updated.

You can watch me perform my poems, apparently!

This Saturday, from 1pm, a poetry event called 100 thousand poets for change will be taking place in Shot In The Dark on City Road. Not all of you live in Cardiff, of course, but the event will be (gulp) livestreamed here oh my goodness.


The theme is "the doors of perception," and I'll be performing at rrrroughly quarter to 2, but do get online / there from 1pm. There's going to be some QUALITY wordsmithery going on. In fact, right after me, Leeum Johnson is performing, and you know what I think of him (hint: he is ammmmaaaaazing).

Also, and this is so so exciting, the headline act is Labi Siffre. This Labi Siffre.

THIS LABI SIFFRE.

This may sound cheesy or whatever but this song used to make me cry when I was a teenager and still felt feelings right. That I'm going to meet the man who wrote these words AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

and all after that was incoherence and panicking

I better come up with something GREAT. At least I'm not reading after Leeum, I really don't think that would go well for me.

So yes, come if you can, sign up to Bambuser if you can't. Entry is free, any donations made will go to Lapidus Cymru. I'm nervous.

FoF: Tackyman

Tackyman the Deer Whisperer, originally uploaded by tackyshack.

Have I told you how amazing Tackyshack is? If not, I should have done. Marvel at his skill with lightpainting. MARVEL.

I'm performing at a poetry event on Saturday! Don't know what I'm reading yet, might be something as yet unwritten... wish me luck :S

A vastly superior day

Yesterday was a day of wonderful things.

I wandered around the grass expanse of Bute park, toes clenching and relaxing in the lush grass, treading happily on loose dirt, or my outstretched legs splashing shallow in the river. The barbecue smoke washed through my hair, which I don't mind at all - for the rest of the day, every turn of my head would remind me of it - and the music flowed from the macbook.

Haha, yes. I was getting back to nature in true filthy-footed hippie style, and my cute, skinny, indie-boy friend was playing music on his macbook. I have more cute, skinny, indie-boy friends now than at any previous point in my life. They sure know how to make me feel flabby and uninteresting (on my worse days. Today, I felt nothing but enjoyment of their company. Take that, insecurities!).

The food was great, the company was wonderful, the music, and the grass the grass the grass - my feet were filthy by the time I'd stopped wandering around. Honestly, get one cider in me and I'm so much happier! I even clambered about on the stones in the stone circle grinning happily to myself. I do love Bute Park.

These photos of the park weren't taken yesterday, but they're mine and I like them. So there.

And then, and then, a poetry event! Word4word in the yurt at Milgi. There were bad poets and good poets, a couple of stunningly funny monologues, Leeum doing his thing (that makes me feel like I've been set on fire with language), and one poet who made me take an intensely strong and personal dislike to him. Words have power, kids: they can make me decide you're a dick.

They can also leave me with a burning desire to write. I'm glad I took a notebook with me. It may look pretentious, sitting among poets and scribbling down poetry, but the ideas come thick and fast at those events and they never stay put for long.

To everyone who's comforted or checked up on me since the last blog post: thanks for caring. You really don't need to worry, though. Very soon after writing that emofest, I saw a song by Goldfish that made me dream that I'd decided to stop wallowing and get on with shit. So get on with shit I shall!

Taciturn, melancholy, doleful, blue

If you know me in person, I'm sorry for being a little bit out of sorts lately. It seems like, in the past few days, a switch has flipped inside my head and now I'm fed up of being alone again.

I won't try to claim that I hadn't been looking for anyone prior to that, but I was essentially okay with being single. I got my share of attention, and while it never led anywhere, it was nice to know that some people still found me attractive. But there have been moments - today especially - when I've heard a second- or even third-hand account of someone falling in love, and have been consumed with misery at the reminder that I'm not anyone's favourite person any more.

It doesn't help that, upon recovering the data I'd thought lost when my laptop died, I discovered old photos of holidays with my ex that I'd forgotten about. It sucks to ask myself when's the last time I looked that happy and (crucially:) relaxed. I still do feel happy, of course, but more often than not it's an oh-god-please-like-me kind of smiley, all bright and tense and desperate to be accepted. I watch myself doing this. Half of me is craving positive reinforcement, and the other half is convinced I don't deserve it.

This sounds awful, doesn't it. Self-indulgently emo, and with no good reason. But I'm willing to bet that you know what I mean, because we've all felt it, and for me this left-on-the-shelf feeling is back in a big way like I haven't felt it since I was nineteen.

Well, this is just tonight. Maybe in the morning, or in a day or a week, I'll have an entirely different outlook. I hope so.

THAT'S RIGHT LET'S ALL FEEL SAD FOR POOR LITTLE ME

Ukes, cats, comedy and a beard.

Tonight I played some Magic: the Gathering on a sticky pub table; then I went to my second Ukulele Night at Gwdihw, a Cardiff bar that I've otherwise never set foot in. The people were so friendly, and so interesting! I hope to join them for next month's jam session. I'll bring my lovely uke along and show them what little I can do.

Ukulele + cats = maybe heaven?

I've also been watching a documentary about Bill Hicks (this link is good for another 24 hours if you're in the UK). I've seen the occasional glimpse of him before - saying strange things about the nature of reality, or verbally abusing hecklers - and I've been too scared to hear him out, but I think I'm a different person these days. The past few years... I've experienced a lot more. I'm not claiming to be a better person than I was, but I understand him better now.

"I need my sleep. I need about eight hours a day, and about ten at night." - Bill Hicks

As requested, this post contains more kitty than my previous one, and a game about Scroobius Pip's beard that I think is absolutely fantastic. Give it a go!

Found no results for Scroobius Pip + cat. Nice going, so-called GOOGLE.

Recap

I really have been neglecting you, haven't I. I'm very sorry about that. I think it's because my life is full of people now, so I rarely feel the need to reach out to the internet.

It all changed rather abruptly; I moved in with a friend from uni and his housemates, and suddenly it was as if I'd pushed off downhill in a shopping trolley. Sometimes the road steepens and sometimes it levels out, sometimes the road is especially bumpy, but I love the ride. And extended metaphors.

There's a lot of things I can't write about for privacy reasons. This blog is connected to my real identity and pseudonyms wouldn't protect the anonymity of anyone who knows me and my my friends, so to a certain extent I've had to curtail my desire to write about my experiences.

Let's see, what shape is my life right now...
I work in retail, in a job with great customers. It doesn't earn me much because it's only around two shifts a week. I'm also working as a volunteer for a Cardiff-based publishing company! I've mentioned that, I'm sure, but it's great and exciting and scary and stressful all at once.
Every week we have Drunken Sunday, where loads of our friends come over and we talk, drink, laugh and generally make merry. Drunkenness entirely optional, of course. Sometimes I'm in the middle of everything, flirting outrageously and loving the attention, and sometimes I sit in the corner and just smile because I feel so lucky to be there.

I am, you know. Very lucky. My friends are passionate, interesting, talented people, and easy on the eye to boot! Truth be told, sometimes I feel unworthy. The ol' self-esteem is kind of at an ebb right now. So it goes. I've gained a bit of weight over the past year due to not cycling any more (some helpful person put Ben's 5-digit lock on my bike, so it needs some trial-and-error codebreaking and an awful lot of TLC before I take it back out on the road). It shouldn't matter, and it's not like I think I'm ugly, but every time I see my body I'm disappointed and low. Such a shame. With a bit more confidence, I'd be having a lot more fun!

I am having fun though. Trying new things, going on adventures... On Monday morning (after two hours' sleep and a Drunken Sunday), I went up Garth mountain with my friends. Admittedly I was, er, bringing up the rear - as I say, I'm not in great shape at the best of times - but I made it up eventually and thoroughly enjoyed the whole day. And the night was just magical. It's rare to feel that close to a group of people.

I hope you're all well, and again, I'm sorry for the rather lacklustre attempts at blogging lately. You deserve better. I'll try to up my game!

Love,
A x

Got mad?

The California milk board recently launched an advertising campaign saying that milk can help relieve the symptoms of PMS. However, rather than targeting this campaign at women, they've taken the indirect approach by roping in our boyfriends to help tame us crazy bitches.

Other taglines include:
"I'm sorry for the thing or things I did or didn't do."
"I'm sorry I listened to what you said and not what you meant."
"Let's agree to disagree with me." and
"We can both blame myself."

Now, this is interesting, because my first response is "Well, this is sexist, offensive, and demeaning to women." It may sound like a feminist kneejerk response, but you only have to have your opinion dismissed with the words "it's her time of the month" a couple of times before you want to remind the world that our opinions don't magically become irrelevant just because we have uteri. The whole wandering womb syndrome (the ancient Greeks' explanation for female hysteria) was disproven some time ago, you know.

Luckily Steve James, executive director of the milk board, has foreseen my response. The following quotes are taken from the New York Times article on the subject:

That the campaign is intended to be “funny, good-natured” ought to defuse criticism, Mr. James says, and “the humor will allow people to laugh at themselves.”

“If you do a microsite about how cute puppies are,” Mr. James says, “you’ll get feedback that says, ‘You’re exploiting puppies.’”

Mr. Goodby [co-chairman at the ad company responsible for this campaign] was reminded of some criticism six years ago of the “Milk to the Rescue” commercial as sexist.
“I wish I could say everybody’s got a sense of humor since then,” he says.

Great. Not only am I irrational, terrifying, and in need of careful placation, I am also minus one sense of humour. They're passed it off as an attempt to "start discussion," but unlike the product they're trying to promote, this leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth.