Yes, the fact that the American electorate were unprejudiced enough to ensure the best candidate won is marvellous, it is an enormous step in the direction of eradicating prejudice and it should be heralded.
But...
Obama has not played the race card and he continues to make intelligent comment about race. Yet everyone who is celebrating his victory is celebrating his colour, the fact that an African American [sic] is to be the next President. He did not win because of his colour. He won because he is intelligent and a sublime orator, and because his policies are sound . That is what is important.
It is impossible to keep count of the number of times it has been said today: "when is Britain going to follow suit and have a black PM?" or words to that effect. (Jeremy Vine said it again and again until I threw my radio into the Forth in disgust).
What? Excuse me? Does that not COMPLETELY miss the point?
In order to be without prejudice, the colour of someone's skin, along with their gender, sexual orientation, age, disability and religious (or other) beliefs should not be relevant. People should be judged solely on their suitability for whatever in question and none of those things affect suitability unless an individual is genuinely unable to meet the requirements because of it.
Seeking to appoint someone for a position purely because of something that is entirely irrelevant to whether they are appropriate is still prejudiced. It is wrong to make it an issue, positive discrimination is still discrimination. There are many racists still about and it would be wrong to deny that, or to deny the appalling attitudes that still exist or the terrifying treatment of some people, but the way the media are carrying on today is simply continuing to make a song and dance and provide fodder for the bigots. Continuing to make an issue, continuing to highlight an imaginary difference. We have to learn that there is no difference. We all have to learn that and if we can't, we will never be without racism.
*********
A personal note: I am aware that I am incredibly bad at expressing myself and I am also aware that all of what I just wrote is likely to be taken as naive or worse.
I am writing this here so as not to embarrass myself on someone else's space, and because I can't see that look people get in their eyes whenever I try to talk about something that matters.
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
Tales of a day
Yesterday a decision was made, a phone was bought. The phone was promptly taken to see Quantum of Solace as there was No Way it was being left in the car. Nuh uh. It quite enjoyed the film, I think, but it did have to be reassured that Sony Ericsson phones don't actually do all that, nor that they are quite as universally used as indicated.
The film: I thought Daniel Craig was magnificent, I thought Judi Dench delivered some cracking lines, but overall... I fell asleep (with bag firmly clamped between ankles). Which is usually an indicator that a film is brilliant, I have slept through some of the best films there are (but not usually at the cinema, the last one was LOTR so it doesn't always mean good). Being permanently overtired and unable to sleep at the designated time means having days where sleep is uneludable and anything involving sitting down for prolonged periods should probably be avoided. Especially mid afternoon. I think it was a good film, but I missed a vital part in the middle so the rest didn't make sense and was a bit mingled in with half dreams so was all mightily confusing.
How's that for a review? There's probably been a few others written, there probably isn't a huge reliance on this one.
Yesterday was nice, having an anniversary meant playing hookie to being parents all afternoon and being allowed for lunch out, shopping for phones and a trip to the cinema. Most exciting.
Today, the Western world is a better place and the fireworks are imminent.
Today, a phone is outwitting its new owner. Excessive spankage will undoubtedly follow, it's still immensely great, but I don't think it likes its owner much.
Today, a funk. I seem to be very good at making people unhappy and that's not what I mean to do at all. Sorry if I made you unhappy, whoever you may be, it's always possible.
The film: I thought Daniel Craig was magnificent, I thought Judi Dench delivered some cracking lines, but overall... I fell asleep (with bag firmly clamped between ankles). Which is usually an indicator that a film is brilliant, I have slept through some of the best films there are (but not usually at the cinema, the last one was LOTR so it doesn't always mean good). Being permanently overtired and unable to sleep at the designated time means having days where sleep is uneludable and anything involving sitting down for prolonged periods should probably be avoided. Especially mid afternoon. I think it was a good film, but I missed a vital part in the middle so the rest didn't make sense and was a bit mingled in with half dreams so was all mightily confusing.
How's that for a review? There's probably been a few others written, there probably isn't a huge reliance on this one.
Yesterday was nice, having an anniversary meant playing hookie to being parents all afternoon and being allowed for lunch out, shopping for phones and a trip to the cinema. Most exciting.
Today, the Western world is a better place and the fireworks are imminent.
Today, a phone is outwitting its new owner. Excessive spankage will undoubtedly follow, it's still immensely great, but I don't think it likes its owner much.
Today, a funk. I seem to be very good at making people unhappy and that's not what I mean to do at all. Sorry if I made you unhappy, whoever you may be, it's always possible.
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Yawn
Today I am 8 years married and £100 poorer. Can't vote, not American.
This blog is just because I can :-)
Stories tomorrow...
This blog is just because I can :-)
Stories tomorrow...
Monday, 3 November 2008
Confusedest
Confused part 3: Spirituality
In the light of incurable confusion and the inability to decide or decipher, the time has come to travel backwards to 1996 and to the wonder that is JiM.
“Suffer the little children to wear party hats and eat jelly.”
On their birthdays anyway.
You must separate your head from your heart. JiM loves all your heart. He likes a bit of head too.
If you gotta go, go now. JiM says:
“There's no point in bottling it all up.”
When you enter JiM's house, leave your preconceptions at the door. But don't buy a new CD and then leave it down the pub. That's just stupid.
JiM says:
“There is nothing on the telly.”
If you choose to be a spectator at the match of life, it'll probably end up being a nil-all draw. If you choose to stay at home instead, you'll probably miss a blinder of a game.
If we follow JiM, we are going on a long journey. Does anyone want to go to the toilet before we set off?
JiM says:
“All we need is love. But if you've got royalties to a song like “All you need is love” to fall back on, that's pretty handy too.”
As concerns honouring thy mother and thy father, JiM says:
“That's ok in theory. But it depends on what type of folks you have.”
“Try and act nice, because maybe they'll lend you money. Never forget that parents charge less interest than most high street banks”
Watch the commercials. Some of them are better than the programmes.
Walk on the sunny side of the street. It doesn't do any harm to top up your tan.
JiM says: be at peace with yourself. And be lucky, my son.
JiM says:
“You must listen to the loony on the bus. Remember everything that the loony says. Then tell your friends and you'll have a good laugh about it later.”
JiM says:
“What is it about leisure centres anyway?”
People playing badminton in tracksuits tend to depress him.
Know where you are coming from. Then you've got a fair chance of finding your way back there. (Always remember that late-night taxi drivers are the sons of the anti-JiM)
If you are refused admission to any place, just remember there is always a place for you on the left hand side of JiM. Form an orderly queue though.
Remember that the sun is still shining on even the cloudiest days. But if it's really nasty out, why not stay in and watch a film. 'Groundhog Day' is one of JiM's favourites.
JiM stands for Jim in Me. And the second JiM stands for that as well, ad infinitum.
Some people are looking through the keyhole of life. Some people are inside the bedroom. Which person would you rather be?
JiM commands us all: “Let us spray”
When JiM sat down at the piano, everybody laughed. They're still laughing now.
Copyright The Limonian Trust 1996.
JiM, I salute you. You, on the other hand, are confusing the hell out of me.
In the light of incurable confusion and the inability to decide or decipher, the time has come to travel backwards to 1996 and to the wonder that is JiM.
“Suffer the little children to wear party hats and eat jelly.”
On their birthdays anyway.
You must separate your head from your heart. JiM loves all your heart. He likes a bit of head too.
If you gotta go, go now. JiM says:
“There's no point in bottling it all up.”
When you enter JiM's house, leave your preconceptions at the door. But don't buy a new CD and then leave it down the pub. That's just stupid.
JiM says:
“There is nothing on the telly.”
If you choose to be a spectator at the match of life, it'll probably end up being a nil-all draw. If you choose to stay at home instead, you'll probably miss a blinder of a game.
If we follow JiM, we are going on a long journey. Does anyone want to go to the toilet before we set off?
JiM says:
“All we need is love. But if you've got royalties to a song like “All you need is love” to fall back on, that's pretty handy too.”
As concerns honouring thy mother and thy father, JiM says:
“That's ok in theory. But it depends on what type of folks you have.”
“Try and act nice, because maybe they'll lend you money. Never forget that parents charge less interest than most high street banks”
Watch the commercials. Some of them are better than the programmes.
Walk on the sunny side of the street. It doesn't do any harm to top up your tan.
JiM says: be at peace with yourself. And be lucky, my son.
JiM says:
“You must listen to the loony on the bus. Remember everything that the loony says. Then tell your friends and you'll have a good laugh about it later.”
JiM says:
“What is it about leisure centres anyway?”
People playing badminton in tracksuits tend to depress him.
Know where you are coming from. Then you've got a fair chance of finding your way back there. (Always remember that late-night taxi drivers are the sons of the anti-JiM)
If you are refused admission to any place, just remember there is always a place for you on the left hand side of JiM. Form an orderly queue though.
Remember that the sun is still shining on even the cloudiest days. But if it's really nasty out, why not stay in and watch a film. 'Groundhog Day' is one of JiM's favourites.
JiM stands for Jim in Me. And the second JiM stands for that as well, ad infinitum.
Some people are looking through the keyhole of life. Some people are inside the bedroom. Which person would you rather be?
JiM commands us all: “Let us spray”
When JiM sat down at the piano, everybody laughed. They're still laughing now.
Copyright The Limonian Trust 1996.
JiM, I salute you. You, on the other hand, are confusing the hell out of me.
Confuseder
Confused part 2: email
Disclaimer: this does not refer to anyone specific or any emails received or sent, I'm having a ponder.
Email has the most extraordinary capacity to confuse. (As does postal mail, but who gets that any more? Not I , said she, lyingly) Amazon just recommended a DVD that is now unavailable. How incredibly useful. Plough through the tedious "buy your Christmas presents from us! It's so great!" and then see what's left. Not a lot usually, but it's terribly nicely organised with filters and labels and all.
The ignored are still ignoring back (better go to facebook and send some plants), the unignored strangely feeling ignored and the lost remain lost.
I don't understand the etiquette of email. For one, when you do a semi-formal email, it looks really silly if you use "Dear Sir" and "yours faithfully" but if you don't, then is that not rude? Is it rude to do formal things by email at all? But things like job applications are often asked for by email, so it is necessary. Most people seem to do "Hi NAME" and sign off with "regards", but you can guarantee if you choose "regards" you'll get a reply that says "kind regards" and you immediately feel bad for not being kind.
And what about the reply bit, it gets a bit silly when you are thanking someone for thanking you for thanking them for thanking you for thanking them for doing something good/nice/useful, but at what point is it ok to not say "thank you for replying to my email"? I'm sure we didn't used to do that with letters, I definitely don't remember doing "thank you for your thank you card" cards.
Noone seems to feel happy with the number of emails they receive from someone. The person I email most seems to feel neglected half the time, yet all the people I don't speak to much feel much more rightly neglected, while I feel if they wanted to, they could get in touch too. And the poor people I neglect to neglect are probably sick of seeing my name in their inbox. There should be some sort of mechanism for knowing who wants to hear from you, but then again, that would probably be EXTREMELY embarrassing.
Oh, if only we all wrote letters like we used to. Once a year, same people, same words. Easy.
Disclaimer: this does not refer to anyone specific or any emails received or sent, I'm having a ponder.
Email has the most extraordinary capacity to confuse. (As does postal mail, but who gets that any more? Not I , said she, lyingly) Amazon just recommended a DVD that is now unavailable. How incredibly useful. Plough through the tedious "buy your Christmas presents from us! It's so great!" and then see what's left. Not a lot usually, but it's terribly nicely organised with filters and labels and all.
The ignored are still ignoring back (better go to facebook and send some plants), the unignored strangely feeling ignored and the lost remain lost.
I don't understand the etiquette of email. For one, when you do a semi-formal email, it looks really silly if you use "Dear Sir" and "yours faithfully" but if you don't, then is that not rude? Is it rude to do formal things by email at all? But things like job applications are often asked for by email, so it is necessary. Most people seem to do "Hi NAME" and sign off with "regards", but you can guarantee if you choose "regards" you'll get a reply that says "kind regards" and you immediately feel bad for not being kind.
And what about the reply bit, it gets a bit silly when you are thanking someone for thanking you for thanking them for thanking you for thanking them for doing something good/nice/useful, but at what point is it ok to not say "thank you for replying to my email"? I'm sure we didn't used to do that with letters, I definitely don't remember doing "thank you for your thank you card" cards.
Noone seems to feel happy with the number of emails they receive from someone. The person I email most seems to feel neglected half the time, yet all the people I don't speak to much feel much more rightly neglected, while I feel if they wanted to, they could get in touch too. And the poor people I neglect to neglect are probably sick of seeing my name in their inbox. There should be some sort of mechanism for knowing who wants to hear from you, but then again, that would probably be EXTREMELY embarrassing.
Oh, if only we all wrote letters like we used to. Once a year, same people, same words. Easy.
Confused
Confused part 1. The phone.
Today I met a very nice little phone going by the name of G1. It's far more aesthetic than anticipated and has the following benefits over the iPhone:
1) it's cheaper
2) it's got a qwerty keypad
3) it's got a trackball
4) it's not Apple and thus not subject to Apple blocks on software apps
but it does look like this:
In the iPhone's defence, it has the following benefits:
1) it has BBC i-player
2) it has twice the battery life of the G1
3) I have never put an application on any phone. I am not a geek, I just like gadgets. It also runs google stuff anyway, you just have to install them.
4) it has a multitouch interface. This is apparently very good. The onscreen keypad is astonishing so pretty much negates the qwerty keypad thing.
it looks like this:
Right, it would seem straightforward. One of these phones makes me want to cartwheel through the fallen leaves, shouting out to the world that I love it, the other makes me want to sit quietly on the parkbench, muttering that it has a trackball. However, I have a very poor track record in making decisions and it is nearly always the wrong one. Aesthetics are not everything, nor is shininess.
I want someone to tell me the right answer before I go bonkers and bore everyone else to tears.
Today I met a very nice little phone going by the name of G1. It's far more aesthetic than anticipated and has the following benefits over the iPhone:
1) it's cheaper
2) it's got a qwerty keypad
3) it's got a trackball
4) it's not Apple and thus not subject to Apple blocks on software apps
but it does look like this:
In the iPhone's defence, it has the following benefits:1) it has BBC i-player
2) it has twice the battery life of the G1
3) I have never put an application on any phone. I am not a geek, I just like gadgets. It also runs google stuff anyway, you just have to install them.
4) it has a multitouch interface. This is apparently very good. The onscreen keypad is astonishing so pretty much negates the qwerty keypad thing.
it looks like this:
Right, it would seem straightforward. One of these phones makes me want to cartwheel through the fallen leaves, shouting out to the world that I love it, the other makes me want to sit quietly on the parkbench, muttering that it has a trackball. However, I have a very poor track record in making decisions and it is nearly always the wrong one. Aesthetics are not everything, nor is shininess.
I want someone to tell me the right answer before I go bonkers and bore everyone else to tears.
Sunday, 2 November 2008
Further revelations
Revelation number one:
I'm not completely rubbish. Aside from suspicious actions by them what confuseth me, there's been a general niceage happening at me:
Manchester is actually the centre of the universe and as such, everyone needs to congregate there on a pretty much permanent basis. Due to the obvious population problems caused, limitations will exist in order to restrict movement to:
a) people who were born there
and
b) people who weren't
It's a flawless plan, nothing can go wrong with it.
Revelation number three:
Wii Fit is ace, an unsurprising revelation. It is a Christmas present and was put in the loft supposedly until December, but luckily I presented a coherent argument for getting it out, mostly based on the XBox "Christmas present" that wasn't put in the loft. Running's lovely (and apparently my forte - how useful to be good at running on the spot), you pass all your other Miis in the park :-)
Just like being properly sociable, but not.
Revelation number four, which isn't really a revelation but it's my blog and I'll be entirely inaccurate if I want to:
I have this idiotic tendency to be wildly impressed by people doing what it is they do. I made an idiot of myself one time over someone rather eminent by going on and on and on about how great the talk they had given was, to discover later that they were a professional speaker. Today I was amazed by someone (I was previously unaware of the existence of) due to their ability to write beautifully, only to discover that they are an author, that's what they do.
Revelation number five:
Oh, I'm not sharing that one, I'm just going to smile a mysterious smile and disappear in a cloud of Coco.
I'm not completely rubbish. Aside from suspicious actions by them what confuseth me, there's been a general niceage happening at me:
- The arrival today of a bunch of virtual flowers. They virtually smell gorgeous and look virtually magnificent in the virtual conservatory.
- Most intelligent, funny and generally intolerant person apparently desires meeting with me.
- Hero indicated mild pleasure at existence of, and used nice words in general direction of, me.
Manchester is actually the centre of the universe and as such, everyone needs to congregate there on a pretty much permanent basis. Due to the obvious population problems caused, limitations will exist in order to restrict movement to:
a) people who were born there
and
b) people who weren't
It's a flawless plan, nothing can go wrong with it.
Revelation number three:
Wii Fit is ace, an unsurprising revelation. It is a Christmas present and was put in the loft supposedly until December, but luckily I presented a coherent argument for getting it out, mostly based on the XBox "Christmas present" that wasn't put in the loft. Running's lovely (and apparently my forte - how useful to be good at running on the spot), you pass all your other Miis in the park :-)
Just like being properly sociable, but not.
Revelation number four, which isn't really a revelation but it's my blog and I'll be entirely inaccurate if I want to:
I have this idiotic tendency to be wildly impressed by people doing what it is they do. I made an idiot of myself one time over someone rather eminent by going on and on and on about how great the talk they had given was, to discover later that they were a professional speaker. Today I was amazed by someone (I was previously unaware of the existence of) due to their ability to write beautifully, only to discover that they are an author, that's what they do.
Revelation number five:
Oh, I'm not sharing that one, I'm just going to smile a mysterious smile and disappear in a cloud of Coco.
Saturday, 1 November 2008
Fots for today
The title of Jonathan Ross' new book, "Why Do I Say These Things?", makes me smile. I checked to see if it had been published a while ago and been wheeled out to capitalise on the furore, but it was just published a couple of weeks ago. 9 days prior to "that" broadcast in fact, a possible unfortunate choice for the title, or maybe sales will rocket if people think a book can actually be published instanteously and it will be all about the aforementioned furore. People are that stupid, lucky they can't actually read so they won't know they've got the wrong thing. Ho hum.
Unlike Russell Brand's new book though, published the same day incidentally, but NOT on display in every single shop in the whole of Britain (Kirkcaldy being a representative sample), I don't feel like I'd want to read it. A sincere apology goes a very long way. NOTHING to do with the way he looks, nuh uh. I did actually quite enjoy "My Booky Wook", it was a good read even though he wasn't very likeable in it. That, I got given for Christmas last year on account of the way he looks and possible mentions of said fact. Nice cover.
Fawlty Towers has been my ringtone for several years, now it's too topical and it needs to be interrupted periodically with a disclaimer that I didn't just install it. I need a new ringtone. I've only ever had 3: The Professionals, which was ace as a midi file, but as phones improved, it sounded worse and worse, then Blackadder which was good till a colleague said "that's a nice march", then Fawlty Towers (since 2003, dammit, that's the longest time I've remained committed to anything!) which I was infinitely satisfied with, until now. I'm going to have to dust off Dangermouse for the time being, till I think of something else. Luckily I very rarely get calls so it's not an issue, but that's beside the point.
I definitely had other thoughts today. Oh simple thoughts, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.
Good god. I need help. Help me, help me, I'm drowning in a pool of unformed and entirely inappropriate thoughts.
Unlike Russell Brand's new book though, published the same day incidentally, but NOT on display in every single shop in the whole of Britain (Kirkcaldy being a representative sample), I don't feel like I'd want to read it. A sincere apology goes a very long way. NOTHING to do with the way he looks, nuh uh. I did actually quite enjoy "My Booky Wook", it was a good read even though he wasn't very likeable in it. That, I got given for Christmas last year on account of the way he looks and possible mentions of said fact. Nice cover.
Fawlty Towers has been my ringtone for several years, now it's too topical and it needs to be interrupted periodically with a disclaimer that I didn't just install it. I need a new ringtone. I've only ever had 3: The Professionals, which was ace as a midi file, but as phones improved, it sounded worse and worse, then Blackadder which was good till a colleague said "that's a nice march", then Fawlty Towers (since 2003, dammit, that's the longest time I've remained committed to anything!) which I was infinitely satisfied with, until now. I'm going to have to dust off Dangermouse for the time being, till I think of something else. Luckily I very rarely get calls so it's not an issue, but that's beside the point.
I definitely had other thoughts today. Oh simple thoughts, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.
Good god. I need help. Help me, help me, I'm drowning in a pool of unformed and entirely inappropriate thoughts.
Friday, 31 October 2008
A day in the life
It's Halloween. Once upon another lifetime, this used to be kinda exciting, getting dressed up and partaking in some sort of Halloween related japes. Now we're all a bit older and it's a bit old hat, rousing from the dead, scaring people, avoiding guising teenagers etc. Some of my friends don't even bother being undead any more, it's just not like it used to be when we were newly dead. I mean, there's the whole choosing a look, planning what to do. With all the genuinely undead, also known as alive people, dressed up like witches and ghosts and tarts, it's relatively easy to slip in amongst a crowd, and if the make up's not so good, looking a bit pale is ok, you just fit right in.
Ah, I just received a message from the girls, it's all go after all. Marvellous, I've spent all day getting ready. Head? check. Flesh? check. Skin? check. Make up? check. Hair? Cloak? check. Ups, nearly forgot: feet. And shoes, mustn't forget shoes. Damned people that die of natural causes, they don't have to remember things so much, everything's just there with just the flesh and skin needing popped over the top.
I hope we don't just go for the graveyard again, that's really pretty boring. Just sitting there staring at passers by with empty eyes, it's deeply unsatisfying. And I'm not so keen on the revenge ones, it's a bit gruesome sometimes, especially if they go for the head. I'm a bit squeamish myself, which is a bit ironic considering what happened to me and all, but I just find it a bit distasteful. No, I prefer good old fashioned scaring, stepping out of the shadows and doing the staring thing right in someone's face is so much more fun than just sitting there staring away. Walking right up to someone silently then breathing down their neck usually gets the right level of spookiness, or maintaining a distance and matching them step for step, stopping when they stop, disappearing into the shadows, again and again, until the last time, not disappearing and laughing as I look into their eyes with my dead and glassy eyes. I like doing the appearing thing, maybe next year if the girls aren't up for it I'll join the majority and just go for the invisible march at midnight, the moment when all the undead walk together once more and all the world stands still as a chill passes over every living heart. And of course, there's always that moment when He appears, to add to our number and take away...
that breath you're holding.
The Time Traveller's Strife
The last couple of days I've been thinking of when I would most like to have lived. While it's hard to imagine living without all the things that I'm used to now, I like to think if I'd never known them, I'd never want for them. I daresay in 50/100/400 years, people will look back on us now and shudder to think how we could have managed without things they assume to be impossible to live without.
Of course, as long as you try to imagine what those things might be, you imagine things that are improved versions of what we have now. Or, involving things that we consider to be simply a matter of science paving the way forward, like living on the moon, which seems to be a popular vision of the future. (although you'd think they'd populate the uninhabitable parts of Earth first which would seem to be more achievable in the first place) Those that walked for miles and dreamed of an automated form of transport surely would not have conceived the idea of aeroplanes? And if you had never heard of a telephone, would you ever had imagined a mobile telephone? I wonder if children tried talking into cups with pieces of string before the telephone was invented, or if the invention of the telephone and the understanding of the process was necessary before anyone thought to try that. Maybe Alexander Graham Bell happened upon that as a child and thought to try it on a bigger scale?
The whole nostalgic idea of time travel into the past is a strange one, why would it be better? Is it a yearning for more simple things, and would that be better? I have long longed to have a Lost in Austen type experience, to find myself living in the world created by Jane Austen. Likewise, it would probably be very nice to live in the world of a Mills and Boon novel set in present day, which I strongly suspect would have as much bearing on real life as those books had on life at that time. Primarily, I think I would have been bored, I get bored enough now with plenty to occupy me. Reading is about the only thing that would interest me, and the selection of books would be drastically reduced from those available to me now. Needlework and singing aren't exactly pursuits I would ever choose to do, and I would end up writing endless diaries and going for endless walks. Oh...
I remember learning about the Second World War at school and from my grandparents and thinking how marvellous it all sounded, how exciting it must have been to have the war and rationing and what not and if only I'd been alive then. Which of course is utter nonsense, it must have been awful. Naturally I yearn to have a real Victorian Christmas, which would undoubtedly be more like the Christmases we have and less like Dickens.
You get all the time travel fiction: Back to the Future, Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes, 13 going on 30 and the book "Do You Remember the First Time?" by Jenny Colgan being the ones I can think of to hand. All of these feature someone from this time (or in Back to the Future's case, someone from 1985) that finds their modern self in the past for some reason. With the exception of Back to the Future (for who would want to see their parents getting together - ick) it makes me think, what would it be like for me?
So...
To go back to 1973 (Life on Mars), is a little unimaginable, it was before I was born, but many of the things featured on this programme seem sort of homely, reminding me of the 70s which I don't remember much of. That doesn't make any sense. I'll move on.
In Ashes to Ashes, the main character wakes up in 1981. I was 6 in 1981 and thought everything about being grown up was amazingly glamorous.
Interestingly, or not as the case may be, that's the same age my brother was in 1973, so maybe he feels the same about Life on Mars. Hmm. The 70s seem a bit less shiny and everyone/thing was tan, I can't see that you'd think it glamorous.
My mother worked for a magazine then and I longed to be like the people she worked with, or Diana of course. One of the advertising guys had an Audi Quattro which I think was probably the first car I ever lusted after. The character in Ashes to Ashes was exactly how I wanted to grow up and I actually think I'd like the opportunity to be an adult in that time, but in a nice gentle version that didn't shatter the illusions you have to be 6 to have.
13 going on 30 and "Do You Remember the First Time" are much the same as each other, the girl is suddenly back being 13/16 but with the wisdom (and hangups) that come with being 30ish. Which makes you immediately go on a big long (probably delayed) train of thought as to who you'd see, what you'd do, all the things you'd do differently and how marvellous it would be to have your adult self there, able to deal with all the things you did wrong at the time. But how frustrating to be a teenager and have all the restrictions of being teenage. Maybe not.
I've been reminded today of all the amazing people who are no longer living. I'd like to have been Mrs Samuel Clemens, or one of the great scientists of the 19th century, meeting in London to discuss (and steal) ideas with each other. Or Einstein's lab assistant. I wonder who from this time people would want to come back and meet. Who should I aspire to meet while we are both still living? I think I know what I appreciate about this time, but who should I appreciate?
Of course, as long as you try to imagine what those things might be, you imagine things that are improved versions of what we have now. Or, involving things that we consider to be simply a matter of science paving the way forward, like living on the moon, which seems to be a popular vision of the future. (although you'd think they'd populate the uninhabitable parts of Earth first which would seem to be more achievable in the first place) Those that walked for miles and dreamed of an automated form of transport surely would not have conceived the idea of aeroplanes? And if you had never heard of a telephone, would you ever had imagined a mobile telephone? I wonder if children tried talking into cups with pieces of string before the telephone was invented, or if the invention of the telephone and the understanding of the process was necessary before anyone thought to try that. Maybe Alexander Graham Bell happened upon that as a child and thought to try it on a bigger scale?
The whole nostalgic idea of time travel into the past is a strange one, why would it be better? Is it a yearning for more simple things, and would that be better? I have long longed to have a Lost in Austen type experience, to find myself living in the world created by Jane Austen. Likewise, it would probably be very nice to live in the world of a Mills and Boon novel set in present day, which I strongly suspect would have as much bearing on real life as those books had on life at that time. Primarily, I think I would have been bored, I get bored enough now with plenty to occupy me. Reading is about the only thing that would interest me, and the selection of books would be drastically reduced from those available to me now. Needlework and singing aren't exactly pursuits I would ever choose to do, and I would end up writing endless diaries and going for endless walks. Oh...
I remember learning about the Second World War at school and from my grandparents and thinking how marvellous it all sounded, how exciting it must have been to have the war and rationing and what not and if only I'd been alive then. Which of course is utter nonsense, it must have been awful. Naturally I yearn to have a real Victorian Christmas, which would undoubtedly be more like the Christmases we have and less like Dickens.
You get all the time travel fiction: Back to the Future, Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes, 13 going on 30 and the book "Do You Remember the First Time?" by Jenny Colgan being the ones I can think of to hand. All of these feature someone from this time (or in Back to the Future's case, someone from 1985) that finds their modern self in the past for some reason. With the exception of Back to the Future (for who would want to see their parents getting together - ick) it makes me think, what would it be like for me?
So...
To go back to 1973 (Life on Mars), is a little unimaginable, it was before I was born, but many of the things featured on this programme seem sort of homely, reminding me of the 70s which I don't remember much of. That doesn't make any sense. I'll move on.
In Ashes to Ashes, the main character wakes up in 1981. I was 6 in 1981 and thought everything about being grown up was amazingly glamorous.
Interestingly, or not as the case may be, that's the same age my brother was in 1973, so maybe he feels the same about Life on Mars. Hmm. The 70s seem a bit less shiny and everyone/thing was tan, I can't see that you'd think it glamorous.
My mother worked for a magazine then and I longed to be like the people she worked with, or Diana of course. One of the advertising guys had an Audi Quattro which I think was probably the first car I ever lusted after. The character in Ashes to Ashes was exactly how I wanted to grow up and I actually think I'd like the opportunity to be an adult in that time, but in a nice gentle version that didn't shatter the illusions you have to be 6 to have.
13 going on 30 and "Do You Remember the First Time" are much the same as each other, the girl is suddenly back being 13/16 but with the wisdom (and hangups) that come with being 30ish. Which makes you immediately go on a big long (probably delayed) train of thought as to who you'd see, what you'd do, all the things you'd do differently and how marvellous it would be to have your adult self there, able to deal with all the things you did wrong at the time. But how frustrating to be a teenager and have all the restrictions of being teenage. Maybe not.
I've been reminded today of all the amazing people who are no longer living. I'd like to have been Mrs Samuel Clemens, or one of the great scientists of the 19th century, meeting in London to discuss (and steal) ideas with each other. Or Einstein's lab assistant. I wonder who from this time people would want to come back and meet. Who should I aspire to meet while we are both still living? I think I know what I appreciate about this time, but who should I appreciate?
Deja vu
See, I do this, have something going on that is entirely unrelated to anything online and yet I take it out online. Which makes me look like a nut as well as usually ending up offending someone lovely.
Why is it that we are always vile to the people we least would want to? We don't go and tell people who deserve it what we think of them. Oh no. Enter the innocent for the attack.
Like sheep
Explaining a bit for no reason: there were three reasons for my latest hissy fit, one was real and is now amended, two were imagined.
Due to the delightful delete function, most of my fits exist only in the memories of the most dedicated, but look at this, this, this and this. I despair sometimes, I really do.
This is going to hurt me to say, but here we go:
people are far nicer than I give them credit for.
There. Said it. Didn't die.
One day I'll find out what it is I'm looking for and can go look for it. Till then I'll bumble on regardless, bouncing off other lonely people and being generally grumpy.
Meantime: spot the progress, the girl grows up minutely.
No change of background! Hurrah and trumpeting giraffes!
I like this one, it's sort of me-ish.
Thursday, 30 October 2008
Current cessation
Normal service may be resumed sometime.
No meaning, just the two best songs in the world
No meaning, just the two best songs in the world
Wednesday, 29 October 2008
Things I have learned today
1) I am more manly than Richard Herring. Not only am I taller than him and definitely have bigger hands, but his blog today confesses to his lack of all interest in manly things, which roughly coincides with the things I do have an interest in. Sigh. I'm never going to be a princess.
2) Men are completely rubbish from a very early age, it makes them easy to love.
3) I am not a good hairdresser. Son one looks ok, son two now has a Take That era Robbie cut. Oops.
4) I LOVE this song: "Human" by The Killers. It was on the radio making me all warm and fuzzy, then Steve Wright helpfully announced that the song before was China Girls and the one after was Witchita Lineman - oh thanks, they're so obscure. If only all radios were DAB... So googling the words "are we human or are we dancer" to find out what it was, rewarded me with many, many blogs trying to answer that question. The basis seems to be "are we fallible or do we just dance through life" but I am quite sure that Brandon Flowers is trying to ascertain if he and his bandmates are in fact aliens from the planet Dance: born under the sign "vital", cold hands, travel around on knees, fond of train analogies.
Actually, I don't care. It's a top tune, it encapsulates everything I like in music into one song. Sounds kind of like good (Joan of Arc, for example) OMD, which isn't ok to admit to listening to (I do, sorry, I'm still in the 80s), but this is The Killers, I can listen to that in public and everything. I know fine well that as soon as my in-house personal critic gets in, I will be informed "it's shite", but for now, I shall bask in my song based happiness.
5) I HATE this song: "Build me up Buttercup" by The Foundations. It's vile, made more so by the fact that it gets churned out at "discos" and it's one of those tunes that everyone *has* to caterwaul along to. Ugh. It encapsulates everything I hate in music into one song.
6) In "Poetry in Motion" by Johnny Tillotson (that I also learned today, I thought it was by someone I'd heard of), motion is rhymed with locomotion, ocean, devotion and potion (but not emotion, which would have been my personal choice). Movement also rhymes with improvement. Not a song I'd ever listen to on purpose, but spectacular dedication to rhyme.
7) Saying "I don't like meat any more" actually means "please ply me with meat based lunches, I clearly don't know my own mind and if you just give me it, I'll eat it by mistake, won't notice and realise the error of my ways". Grr.
2) Men are completely rubbish from a very early age, it makes them easy to love.
3) I am not a good hairdresser. Son one looks ok, son two now has a Take That era Robbie cut. Oops.
4) I LOVE this song: "Human" by The Killers. It was on the radio making me all warm and fuzzy, then Steve Wright helpfully announced that the song before was China Girls and the one after was Witchita Lineman - oh thanks, they're so obscure. If only all radios were DAB... So googling the words "are we human or are we dancer" to find out what it was, rewarded me with many, many blogs trying to answer that question. The basis seems to be "are we fallible or do we just dance through life" but I am quite sure that Brandon Flowers is trying to ascertain if he and his bandmates are in fact aliens from the planet Dance: born under the sign "vital", cold hands, travel around on knees, fond of train analogies.
Actually, I don't care. It's a top tune, it encapsulates everything I like in music into one song. Sounds kind of like good (Joan of Arc, for example) OMD, which isn't ok to admit to listening to (I do, sorry, I'm still in the 80s), but this is The Killers, I can listen to that in public and everything. I know fine well that as soon as my in-house personal critic gets in, I will be informed "it's shite", but for now, I shall bask in my song based happiness.
5) I HATE this song: "Build me up Buttercup" by The Foundations. It's vile, made more so by the fact that it gets churned out at "discos" and it's one of those tunes that everyone *has* to caterwaul along to. Ugh. It encapsulates everything I hate in music into one song.
6) In "Poetry in Motion" by Johnny Tillotson (that I also learned today, I thought it was by someone I'd heard of), motion is rhymed with locomotion, ocean, devotion and potion (but not emotion, which would have been my personal choice). Movement also rhymes with improvement. Not a song I'd ever listen to on purpose, but spectacular dedication to rhyme.
7) Saying "I don't like meat any more" actually means "please ply me with meat based lunches, I clearly don't know my own mind and if you just give me it, I'll eat it by mistake, won't notice and realise the error of my ways". Grr.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
What's going on, or not
Due to the fact that they sneak it on after Spooks, I watched the News.
The joys.
Russell Brand/Jonathan Ross/Andrew Sachs. Idiots. Cruel. Why is everyone talking about it? The House of Lords? David Cameron? Me? Why? I don't get it. I don't get why some things get mega'd and others just ignored.
The American election is worrying. Obama says something that makes sense:
We need to invest in infrastructure.
The American public go:
Oh, we don't really want to SPEND money
McCain says:
Yeah, we need the infrastructure, but we're not going to pay for it
(which is illogical)
The American public go:
Yes! That's what we want to hear!
Uh huh. Brains connected anyone? No? Hello?
Then I spoilt myself and read the Scotsman headlines to see what happened in Scotland yesterday (it takes me a while to build up the tolerance to read these). Nothing, as usual. There's a big hooha about independent schools and charitable status, and then the inevitable comments after. Of course, this leads to the "private education is ethical and immoral" (I exaggerate nor paraphrase not) comments, which rouses a LOT of rantage from me.
I went to a private school. It was nice. I won't be sending my children to one.
I have never in my life thought that my school makes me one iota better than the next person, but since the day I started there, it has been assumed that I do. Why?
(Exception to this being when I lived in Lesser England and spoke to small minded people - which I am prepared to concede in my old age is not actually the norm for English people, some of them are remarkably nice, but y'know, I'm Scottish, I have to say "English" with a slightly bad taste - who did not believe I could have gone to a private school or surely I would have lost my common Scottish accent)
As a parent, schooling is kind of an important thing to think of, and so I tend to talk about it to other parents. Some have chosen to send their children to private school, and they're not being elitist about it, in the slightest, they simply want their children to get the best possible education. Listening to their reasoning, they sound perfectly sensible. There are those, and they shout loudest, who do it so they say their precious lovelies are at St Snots and so the lovelies can meet lovely snotty friends and marry into some lovely snotty family. But most people aren't like that and they do genuinely want their children to get the best from their education. That's the whole point of paying for something, is it not? Is private healthcare also elitist?
I won't be sending my boys to private school. Main reason: it costs about £9000 a year, per child. That's a whole salary. A big salary after tax. The other reason is that I ended up a dilettante, so it didn't do me a whole lot of good in the long run. Oh, and their semi-anarchist father would never allow it in a million years, he has almost forgiven me.
Years of conditioning make me reluctant to post this because I don't want to be considered elitist and unethical. Maybe it explains it all. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it doesn't matter.
The joys.
Russell Brand/Jonathan Ross/Andrew Sachs. Idiots. Cruel. Why is everyone talking about it? The House of Lords? David Cameron? Me? Why? I don't get it. I don't get why some things get mega'd and others just ignored.
The American election is worrying. Obama says something that makes sense:
We need to invest in infrastructure.
The American public go:
Oh, we don't really want to SPEND money
McCain says:
Yeah, we need the infrastructure, but we're not going to pay for it
(which is illogical)
The American public go:
Yes! That's what we want to hear!
Uh huh. Brains connected anyone? No? Hello?
Then I spoilt myself and read the Scotsman headlines to see what happened in Scotland yesterday (it takes me a while to build up the tolerance to read these). Nothing, as usual. There's a big hooha about independent schools and charitable status, and then the inevitable comments after. Of course, this leads to the "private education is ethical and immoral" (I exaggerate nor paraphrase not) comments, which rouses a LOT of rantage from me.
I went to a private school. It was nice. I won't be sending my children to one.
I have never in my life thought that my school makes me one iota better than the next person, but since the day I started there, it has been assumed that I do. Why?
(Exception to this being when I lived in Lesser England and spoke to small minded people - which I am prepared to concede in my old age is not actually the norm for English people, some of them are remarkably nice, but y'know, I'm Scottish, I have to say "English" with a slightly bad taste - who did not believe I could have gone to a private school or surely I would have lost my common Scottish accent)
As a parent, schooling is kind of an important thing to think of, and so I tend to talk about it to other parents. Some have chosen to send their children to private school, and they're not being elitist about it, in the slightest, they simply want their children to get the best possible education. Listening to their reasoning, they sound perfectly sensible. There are those, and they shout loudest, who do it so they say their precious lovelies are at St Snots and so the lovelies can meet lovely snotty friends and marry into some lovely snotty family. But most people aren't like that and they do genuinely want their children to get the best from their education. That's the whole point of paying for something, is it not? Is private healthcare also elitist?
I won't be sending my boys to private school. Main reason: it costs about £9000 a year, per child. That's a whole salary. A big salary after tax. The other reason is that I ended up a dilettante, so it didn't do me a whole lot of good in the long run. Oh, and their semi-anarchist father would never allow it in a million years, he has almost forgiven me.
Years of conditioning make me reluctant to post this because I don't want to be considered elitist and unethical. Maybe it explains it all. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it doesn't matter.
Monday, 27 October 2008
Spooks spooks spooks
Today arrived, as expected, on schedule and everything, and as also expected it got to 9pm. Spooks was on. Series 7, episode 1. Huzzah!
The bad first:
La la la-ing is required to ignore the blatant political broadcasts they make every so often.
The use of technology is, erm, interesting.
Girlies are not good at fighting. Nope. Especially not little teeny tiny blondies.
They could have made the saddest event in television history (exaggeration? Moi?) a bit sadder. Really. I was expecting at least a small tear-ette to form in the corner of my eye, but no. Oh dead, really? Ah well.
But the good, oh the good:
It's Spooks.
The music and the way it all happens is damned exciting. I forget to breathe sometimes.
Richard Armitage. Very swooshy. (he spoke Russian. thwopp, thwopp)
They're not shy of killing anyone off, you don't know what's going to happen.
Harry Pearce is ace.
The men are manly, the villains are villainous and things are almost as they should be. Apart from the girls failing to be girlie at all it does good.
S'on again tomorrow. Watching the BBC3 first look one tonight would have resulted in being ultimately bereft tomorrow. So, willpower willed out for once. Woo.
Gratituous pic:
The bad first:
La la la-ing is required to ignore the blatant political broadcasts they make every so often.
The use of technology is, erm, interesting.
Girlies are not good at fighting. Nope. Especially not little teeny tiny blondies.
They could have made the saddest event in television history (exaggeration? Moi?) a bit sadder. Really. I was expecting at least a small tear-ette to form in the corner of my eye, but no. Oh dead, really? Ah well.
But the good, oh the good:
It's Spooks.
The music and the way it all happens is damned exciting. I forget to breathe sometimes.
Richard Armitage. Very swooshy. (he spoke Russian. thwopp, thwopp)
They're not shy of killing anyone off, you don't know what's going to happen.
Harry Pearce is ace.
The men are manly, the villains are villainous and things are almost as they should be. Apart from the girls failing to be girlie at all it does good.
S'on again tomorrow. Watching the BBC3 first look one tonight would have resulted in being ultimately bereft tomorrow. So, willpower willed out for once. Woo.
Gratituous pic:
Words revisited
-26 able admitting better bigheaded boot brain case count cynicism days due eloquence expand feel flow gets gift happens hate hippy indeed instead interesting keep lesser life lost minute moment negative nice page paragraphs people point possible previously repetitive sense sentences something stands symbol useful vocabulary waffles warm words yes
created at TagCrowd.com
Words
Fla. I hate when I want to say something and the words just don't get in the right order and arrange themselves nicely on the page. Why won't they do that? Why do they persist in being wrong, and the same words always keep pushing their way past the more interesting words so you end up with something repetitive? It's not on.
I need word boot camp. Get my vocabulary into shape so the words just slot into useful sentences and paragraphs; off I will be able to go with a flow of eloquence instead of vomiting random words and symbols all over the page.
Word count: 2500
Sense count: 3
Point count: -26
Symbol count: 1543
(In case you wonder how it is possible to make negative points, that is where one waffles so much as to confuse a point previously made. Quite a gift).
I had a point? I lost it, hud on a wee minute while I find it...
Aha! Yes. I'm having a hippy moment, which happens periodically due to something that I am Not Admitting To*, which makes me feel warm and fuzzy for about two days until the cynicism comes lumbering back.
Hippy thought #7: instead of being angry at people for not needing me any more, it is nice to feel useful for having been part of their life when they did need me.
To expand on that requires a better brain than this one. Or indeed a lesser one then I could wax lyrical about hippy shit. As it stands, that's as good as it gets.
*because it's bigheaded, not because of anything interesting.
I need word boot camp. Get my vocabulary into shape so the words just slot into useful sentences and paragraphs; off I will be able to go with a flow of eloquence instead of vomiting random words and symbols all over the page.
Word count: 2500
Sense count: 3
Point count: -26
Symbol count: 1543
(In case you wonder how it is possible to make negative points, that is where one waffles so much as to confuse a point previously made. Quite a gift).
I had a point? I lost it, hud on a wee minute while I find it...
Aha! Yes. I'm having a hippy moment, which happens periodically due to something that I am Not Admitting To*, which makes me feel warm and fuzzy for about two days until the cynicism comes lumbering back.
Hippy thought #7: instead of being angry at people for not needing me any more, it is nice to feel useful for having been part of their life when they did need me.
To expand on that requires a better brain than this one. Or indeed a lesser one then I could wax lyrical about hippy shit. As it stands, that's as good as it gets.
*because it's bigheaded, not because of anything interesting.
Sunday, 26 October 2008
It's not easy being this thick
It's gone. That thing called intelligence. Common sense, simple understanding, I have none.
We have for example, the cooking of tonight's dinner. An experiment into making something curryish with vegetables that didn't contain peas. There is no problem with peas in their rightful place at the side of the plate or in a salad or something, but why do they pop up in rice or curry or general foodage? Anyway, I found a recipe for chicken korma, wildly improvised due to inability to think what vegetables went in a vegetable korma (the one from the Indian has fecking peas in it, and potato; the recipes I found online all had blimming peas, and beans) and also due to a lack of key ingredients. The dense moment occurred when I added a tablespoon of coriander leaf instead of a tablespoon of ground coriander. Too late, I remembered the fairly major difference between the two. Luckily, I'm a reasonable cook, so ended up with a tasty thing that bore no resemblance to what it was meant to, but had a distinctive Thai Green look/taste to it. Sigh. Thai Gobi Korma because cauliflower is always the answer.
Later, I thought I'd have a nice soak and read my book. All fine and dandy till I dropped Andrew Collins into the bath and am now stuck for two days or so till he dries out enough. Dammit. I haven't done that since I dropped Mary Queen of Scots in the bath, and I never went back to her in her puffed up stiffened state after, I moved on. That would be sad in this case.
I've got my coursework. I'm sitting here with my mouth slightly open just gawping at it like I'm a moron. I have no idea where to start thinking, never mind working out what to do.
Here's one of the parts (incidentally, part 2):
Examine the policy frameworks, government objectives with respect to your chosen topic area, legislation and typical existing practice. This would look at what national and local government say that they want to do for your chosen measure (and any contradictions in that policy); the relevant legislation (e.g. the Transport Act 2000); and how your topic is dealt with currently by “typical” transport professionals. Some critique of existing practice is also required.
>>>>complete blank<<<<<< style="text-align: left;">
As if by magic, I prove the fact that I have no brain, by searching on Amazon for books, finding one that looked familiar and discovering I own it. Which helps. The title? "Transport Policy in Britain". I have previously been to the Shelf of Useful Books and didn't think that this one would possibly be useful for coursework on Transport Policy.
The country is crying out for engineers like me, just think what amazing things I can achieve.
Yes, it was going to be a road, but instead I built a swimming pool.
Oh. You wanted tracks for that train line? Yes, I suppose that should have been obvious.
We have for example, the cooking of tonight's dinner. An experiment into making something curryish with vegetables that didn't contain peas. There is no problem with peas in their rightful place at the side of the plate or in a salad or something, but why do they pop up in rice or curry or general foodage? Anyway, I found a recipe for chicken korma, wildly improvised due to inability to think what vegetables went in a vegetable korma (the one from the Indian has fecking peas in it, and potato; the recipes I found online all had blimming peas, and beans) and also due to a lack of key ingredients. The dense moment occurred when I added a tablespoon of coriander leaf instead of a tablespoon of ground coriander. Too late, I remembered the fairly major difference between the two. Luckily, I'm a reasonable cook, so ended up with a tasty thing that bore no resemblance to what it was meant to, but had a distinctive Thai Green look/taste to it. Sigh. Thai Gobi Korma because cauliflower is always the answer.
Later, I thought I'd have a nice soak and read my book. All fine and dandy till I dropped Andrew Collins into the bath and am now stuck for two days or so till he dries out enough. Dammit. I haven't done that since I dropped Mary Queen of Scots in the bath, and I never went back to her in her puffed up stiffened state after, I moved on. That would be sad in this case.
I've got my coursework. I'm sitting here with my mouth slightly open just gawping at it like I'm a moron. I have no idea where to start thinking, never mind working out what to do.
Here's one of the parts (incidentally, part 2):
Examine the policy frameworks, government objectives with respect to your chosen topic area, legislation and typical existing practice. This would look at what national and local government say that they want to do for your chosen measure (and any contradictions in that policy); the relevant legislation (e.g. the Transport Act 2000); and how your topic is dealt with currently by “typical” transport professionals. Some critique of existing practice is also required.
>>>>complete blank<<<<<< style="text-align: left;">
As if by magic, I prove the fact that I have no brain, by searching on Amazon for books, finding one that looked familiar and discovering I own it. Which helps. The title? "Transport Policy in Britain". I have previously been to the Shelf of Useful Books and didn't think that this one would possibly be useful for coursework on Transport Policy.
The country is crying out for engineers like me, just think what amazing things I can achieve.
Yes, it was going to be a road, but instead I built a swimming pool.
Oh. You wanted tracks for that train line? Yes, I suppose that should have been obvious.
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