Friday, September 30, 2005

On Being in a Seinfeld Mood

And so the debate rages on as to whether City of Death should be the Christmas DVD release, with the masses still demanding Genesis. Just one glance at the BBC website pays testament to this. I did fancy publishing a post pleading for Timelash, but even I cannot stoop so low as to try and wind up my beloved Who brethren. In all seriousness though, please can we have Greatest Show in the Galaxy next year? Please, BBC. Err, I'll be your best friend (?!?) Wait, this is all getting rather childish, I'll stop. I'm simply conforming to stereotypes if I continue that train of thought. Personally though, I welcome CoD to DVD, it'll definately be on my Christmas list. After all, being an analyst, and that being a televisual text, our two lines of work do dovetail very nicely!

Hmmm, so how is life? Life is good, thanks! A lot better than this time last week, I'll put it that way. I've done muchos readingos for the commencement of my course next week, and even potentially come up with an idea for my dissertation: it involves tackling the problems of making television drama for a global audience, by analysing the 1996 Who Tv Movie within the generic contexts of American and British television drama and drawing reference to such expectations related to elements such as the single play, the TV Movie and, naturally science-fiction, whilst paying attention to how these are played out within the text and the way they set up expectations for audiences within different cultures. In short, I seek to prove that even in today's globalised television society, it's impossible to make drama to satisfy a global audience. May even be able to work in some discussion and/or analysis of the new series as well! This all came to me on Monday night, after successfully completing my first sudoku, after six months of trying. Its times like that when I truly do kick ass.

Oh yeah, and a quick note to anyone who fancies kidnapping me: I found out in Devon that I can easily fit in the boot of a Peugeot 106, with the parcel shelf in and the door shut, and breathe perfectly well. Thus, if anyone does fancy abducting me, you won't need a fancy car.

Ultimate Chat Up Line for Goths:
"I like the way your organs are decaying."

CyberControl's Favourite Tunes:

22 Grand Job by The Rakes
Going Missing by Maximo Park
Sit Down, Stand Up by Radiohead
Swallowed in the Sea by Coldplay
All These Things That I've Done by The Killers

Monday, September 26, 2005

Hope

"You want to trust the Doctors, their procedure is the best
But the last try was a failure and the intern was a mess
And they did the same to Matthew, and he bled 'til Sunday night
They're saying 'Don't be frightened', but you're weakened by the sight of it
"

It's funny. That track has never really meant anything to me. It's always just been 'The One with the Simple Synth Part', positioned between two great songs on one of my favourtie records. That's not to say I never liked the track, it just didn't get under my skin in the way, say, Falls to Climb has. However, the above lyrics pretty much sum up the events of the last week or so. In short, I've been presented with situations to which there are no real solutions. There's no chance of either reconciliation, or the current situation getting any better. Why should I be so arrogant as to assume I could make any form of difference, I hear you ask dear reader? Well, in my family I've always been the go-between, the mediator if you like, who listens to all of the different arguments and then helps people decide what the most amicable solution is for all involved. I suppose it's no wonder as to why I did a journalism degree; I was simply playing to my strengths.

Yet, when you're faced with problems concerning mental illness there is no solution, no matter how great you're hope in medical science is. You're simply presented with a situation where the person involved is just going to get worse, and gradually they'll fade in to their own world until they finally sleep. What makes it a lot worse, and adds to the feeling of helplessness, is seeing the person involved as a shadow their former self. In this instance, it refers to my grandfather: a veteran of the Second World War, a man who stood up and fought for what was right, and a proud man who wouldn't suffer fools. Just don't let him watch any repeats of old Python shows, that's all. What was moving about visiting him though was the way in which my Gran held herself around him. It was wrenching to watch her as, whilst she knew that he wouldn't be getting any better, she still treated him as though everything was OK, and still offered him the same affection she always has. It was a display of dignity that really got to me.

This is especially the case when you view it in the context of my sister, who has just walked out of her (very new) marriage after thirteen months for someone else. I'm not sure whether she got bored, but when asked why she simply spouted some sub-Cosmopolitan, sub-feminist nonsense that involved the phrase 'skin crawl' and that, it seems, is that. Endgame. Another government statistic in the making. However, as with most things with my sister, it's only when you scratch the surface that you get a more rounded sense of what's going on, and that's a whole different can of worms.

So as a result, hope is short in relation to my family, and that's a shame as it's a concept I value greatly. Just one look at some of my favourite media reflects this: from the lyrics disclosed above, to the attention-grabbing title of iDLEWiLD's debut record (Hope is Important), to the title of one of my favourite bands (Hope of the States), it's always there. Hell, look at the end of Shawshank! The reason the conclusion is so euphoric, and moving, is due to the hope it offers. Now by hope, I don't mean the futile, religous-based definition of the word (i.e. I hope that God exists),. Instead I am referring to the kind of hope that is devoid of notions of 'belief': hope that things will get better, hope for a brighter tomorrow, and that good things happen to good people. The only problem is that when faced with the knowledge that things have to get worse before they can get better, its not always easy to keep that hope.

The above lyrics come from a track called Hope on R.E.M.'s sublime record, Up. If you ever get the opportunity, it's well worth a listen.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Terminus

So that was it. Terminus. However, there were no revelations that we onboard the leper ship, nor that everyone was going to die (for one reason or another), nor was there any mention of Lazar's Disease. Instead, there was a strangely moving, almost sombre, atmosphere to my departure in to the world of unemployment, and then, soon, in to the saving arms of academia. A few manly handshakes, a card with pleasent words dispersed inside, and some strong, inspiring words from my superiors, all made for an unexpected end to my days with directory enquiries. Whoever thought this retiring, nervy sf fan, with a habit of making stupid observations (often involving badgers) when in team meetings, could elicit such a response from people? In short, I never realised I meant that much to my peers. I always thought I was just a bit of wallpaper: turned up, fitted in, didn't draw attention to itself and was easily replacable. However, over the last few months I have come to feel as though some people in that place have helped awaken a certain part of me I never knew existed. A part of me that is confident in my own abilities, that recognises I'm not the tragic waste of space I always proclaim I am, and that I'm someone with the passion and motivation to go and do whatever I want. Yes, I'm still very much aware that, at the most basic level, I'm a pile of rotting organs; matter that was decaying from the moment it was awoken, doing so at a rate slower than that of animals but quicker than that of the universe. However, when we come to time, everything is relative. Anyways, for that I'm truly grateful, and there's always the leaving celebrations, even if they are two weeks away.

So where from here? Immidiatley, I'm needed elsewhere. What with the hurricane currently blowing through my family, I feel it's my duty to go home and try and steady the ship to the best of my abilities. I think that's a direct consequence of being a Whovian: the show gives you a great feeling of responsibility and morailty, of standing up, and trying to do the 'right thing', if such a thing can ever truly exist. For my parents, I think they could do with some irreverance to take their mind off things, and I know I'm the person for that, whilst with regards to my sister, I've gone from feeling that she's back to the person she used to be, to a feeling of just not knowing her at all, in the space of aproximately three weeks. Who knows, I may even once more encounter the Portreath of the Borough of Newton Abbot whilst I'm back! In all honesty, I never knew the place had a Portreath, nor that Newton Abbot was a Borough, but we all live to learn and strive towards enlightenment. Moreover, its all very Castrovalva. Yet, although I may be going back, in the words of the Bluetones, it's just for a short while. Moreover, whilst I am going back, I've lots of work to do. Subsequently, that can only mean one thing: they better have plenty of tea in.

"Up until this moment, I'd only ever wanted to see one thing: you naked. Well, that and Arc of Infinity, but at this precise point in time, Omega can wait."

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Too Long Awake

Its been a long week, and as I sit here on a Saturday night enjoying a glass of red wine and listening to B*Witched's C'est La Vie (we all suffer our vices), reflecting on how this track always seems to appear at strange points in my life (usually when drunk), I can honestly admit I'll be glad to see this week's demise. Its been both physically and emotionally draining: for some reason family and friends have a nasty habit of falling apart at the same time, and whilst I don't at all mind being the person people fall on, it'd be nice if it didn't all happen at once. However, if that's the state of play at the minute, so be it. As the current Coldplay track observes, "I'll try to fix you", the only problem is that I subsequently feel as though I've been too long awake. I'm not gonna go into all the details, mainly because I don't believe in disclosing everything all of time, but I just wanted to get a few observations I've come to this week out in the open. Some of them are blindingly obvious, but I wanted to make them explicit because I feel they should be said. Some are a bit more cryptic but hopefully the person(s) they're directed to will be able to decode. Here goes:

1. Contemporary Man is not supposed to work 50 hours a week, especially when this only invloves one trip to the pub.

2. It is unwise to drink four pints of Hoegaarden in one sitting, even if this is over a considerable period of time.

3. The Kinder Egg is not a suitable implement with which to impersonate Steve Harmison, nor any other members of the England Cricket team's bowling attack.
3a. Similarly, the packagaing of the Kinder Egg often lies to you. Not offering you a free SpongeBob, nor Patrick Starfish, nor any of the other characters, but instead granting you a small imp and a euphonium.

4. My housemates are f***ing great.

5. I feel closer to my parents when I'm further away from them.

6. No matter how sure you are about things they will always strive to prove you wrong, and often succeed in doing so.

7. Bad news always announces itself when you're in the company of people who were either involved, or around, the last time it said 'Hi'.

8. Saying 'Hello' to people you've come to long for usually results in rewarding, if brief, social interactions.

9. I will soon be on to my third pair of headphones this year. Is this my fault, or are they just badly made?

10. Despite making both iconic (Daydreamer) and impressive (Being Brave) contributions to the Britpop era, Menswear couldn't do vocal harmonies for toffee, and had trouble holding notes in the right keys at times.

11. The track Gay Bar by Electric Six is still very funny, even two years down the line.

12. Isn't it great when you misinterpret song lyrics. Only today I thought I heard a girl on the radio singing about fish eyes.

13. I'm a walking embodiment of the values of Public Service Broadcasting, as forwarded by the BBC especially.

14. Susanna Hoffs was, and still is, really hot.

15. Nobody has better sex than the people in your head do.

16. Anything involving the words 'everlasting', or 'magic', or a combination of the two, are falsifications. There are no such things in the world.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

The Brain of Morbius. And Coupland. And Me...

I really should write thoughts down when they come to me rather than almost twelve hours later, after going to work, a football match, and endless amounts of cleaning, so consequently this may go astray. Then again, these posts always do, so I don't really see the point in making such a statement. I always end up reading these posts back thinking 'Yeah, that's what you should've said' in my head. I digress. The point I want to make is that there's something big brewing: something I've been dwelling on a little recently and I just need to get it together in a coherent manner before I discuss it. It's rather philosophical, and epic, but watch this space...

In all honesty, today's been something of a non-entity: I awoke today, full of the joys of, err, late Summer (?), awaiting the pleasure of viewing the top-ten making Greatest Show in the Galaxy, only to be greeted by an episode of Dangerfield and a 30 minute clip show concerning 'The Best Who Monsters'. I mean, come on UK Gold! You were only a fortnight away from the end of the McCoy era! The show itself was alright, but it was mostly just the same old same old. I mean its good to see the old folks ambling around the stage, but its always the same guys! I mean, how many times do we have to see the Autons wreaking havoc on Ealing high-street? Yes, it's classic, but surely they could've mixed in some Terror as well? Ditto that with the Ice Warriors. Leaving out both of the Peladon stories is, quite frankly, careless! However, the show did leave me wanting to a) watch The Ice Warriors once more, and b) track down Seeds of Doom, Brain of Morbius and, strangely, Ark in Space. All that, and no Greatest Show means that I'm pining for a lot of different stories at the moment. Bet none of the unreleased above, nor Delta, ends up on the BBC release list for next year. One of the main saving graces of the formerly mentioned show though was the joy in realising Tom Baker was wearing a jacket similar to the one I recently purchased. Oh yeah! I'm slowly becoming like one of my idols, probably because I don't want to become myself.

It was strange Morbius should be featured in the programme, seen as though the word 'Morbius' has been running through my head a lot as of late. I don't know why this is; I just seem to go through stages when certain words appear in my conscious, and I just want to blurt them out at random intervals, just to get them out there and see how people react. Anyways, I ended up sketching Dear Morbius on a piece of paper at work this morning, much to the disgust of the woman sat next to me. I don't think she knew what it was, and I wouldn't blame her for being scared. The character itself is quite grotesque. Then again, that's probably why I like him.

In relation to work, I thought this resignation thing would feel different to what it does: after weeks of being told how valued you are, reaction has been very subdued. Now, I didn't want any kind of fuss or fanfare, not in any dimension. However, it'd have been nice to have been able to explain the reasons behind it, and keep a few options open, instead of just 'Right, ok then. Off you go'. Similarly, in myself, I thought I'd feel a mix of joy and relief. Instead its just boredom and accenuated frustration. The only saving grace for today's shift was the fact that I saw the rather lovely (x) that I've been admiring from afar for the first time in ages. Typical me though, I did my usual and said nothing to her. Instead, I just got a strange wave of nerves inside telling me not to say anything stupid, and with that the moment passed. I should've asked her where she'd been, but that'd have probably come across as a bit wierd and stalker-ish. I'd like to turn around to her and say something along the lines of 'Hey, look, I'm leaving this place soon and I'd really like to take you out for dinner, or a drink, or a movie sometime as I think you're pretty, err, pretty, which is probably why I've never said anything to you for ages, since I have this horrible habit of saying really stupid things in front of people who make me nervous, such as you. So what do you think?' but I know she'd just look at me as though I'm wierd. Having said that, she's probably been away for ages as she's been getting married, or had some serious illness, or something similar, and subsequently would make an excuse similar to that, smile sweetly, and forget me as quickly as the news broadcast she heard on the radio that morning.

And so in the above, we hit upon one of the internal questions I eternally struggle with: when is the right time to risk looking like an idiot, and admit your feelings? Or is it better just to ignore these thoughts and stumble around in life until, as people always tell you, someone stumbles into you? Thus, we hit upon one of my Big Questions in life: how can you be sure?

Bloody hell, we've gone deep, and that's not even what I was going to go deep about. Sorry if all of this seems a bit whiney but, as Coupland rightly observes, of all of society's taboos, loneliness is the most taboo of them all. I just wish I was as good at describing it as he was. Unfortunately though, that's one person I'll never get close to immitating.