The Fine Art of Debating

In reference to Obama apparently threatening Pakistan, McCain says a president has to be more careful about what he says. Obama responds by repeating exactly what he’d said about Pakistan, which completely flattens McCain’s lazy interpretation, then points out two examples of McCain letting his mouth go - saying North Korea should be wiped off the map and singing Bomb-bomb-bomb, Bomb-bomb Iran. McCain’s response? To once again reiterate his record in the senate (stopping short of certain decisions made regarding Iraq) and telling some irrelevant story about a woman giving him a bracelet at a town-hall meeting commemorating her son who died in Iraq.

Less than two minutes after Obama has said the situation in Afghanistan can’t be solved by more troop deployment alone and needs some careful strategy, McCain accuses him of not understanding that it’ll take more than just increased troop-deployment to improve the situation and some careful strategy is needed.

That was pretty much the theme of the whole debate. McCain accuses Obama of something, which Obama casually discredits or puts in context before bringing up two or three examples of McCain doing exactly what he’s accusing Obama of, to which McCain has no reply, or Obama says something that McCain immediately forgets and accuses Obama of having the opposite view.

The only reasoning I can think of for why people can’t decide who won, or even think McCain won, is that McCain appeared to be on the offensive more, while Obama was willing to admit when he was in agreement with McCain, but the fact is McCain was stuck with rehashing his campaign ads, while Obama was responding intelligently and articulately to the questions being posed and the responses from the other side.

Judge for yourselves:

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Usually I would leave the politics to The Big E, but earlier I read a couple of overviews on last night’s presidential debate, which essentially came to the conclusion that both parties handled themselves well enough and it’s difficult to say who came out on top. I’m now halfway through watching said debate and, so far, McCain is having his ass handed to him.

Both sides are spewing a lot of rhetoric, avoiding direct questions and criticisms from the other and generally reiterating the agenda’s they’ve been pushing for the last couple of decades (or how ever long this campaign has been running), but the one thing that has become clear is that, while Republicans have commented a few times that a lot of Obama’s proposals are little more than broad-sweeping statements along the lines of ‘This is bad and should better,’ it is, in fact, McCain who’s been spouting words to that effect in the debate.

While McCain talks about keeping up spending in certain broad areas and completely freezing it in others as a result of the recent economic crisis, Obama talks about going through everything with a fine-toothed comb and holding off on the nonessential aspects of some things, while recognising the immediate importance of all of them.

For example, McCain proposes keeping up defence spending, while freezing spending on education, while Obama wants to look at what can be held back on both so he doesn’t have to sacrifice either.

The problem with spending freeze is you’re using a hatchet where you need a scalpel.

Obama

I’ve also noticed that, despite prompting from the moderator to do so, McCain is yet to directly challenge Obama on any point, while Obama (after a slow start) has done so a few times to McCain.

I’ll watch the second half tomorrow, but at half-time, McCain’s heading to the locker-room battered and bruised…

I have coffee, Kit-Kats and custard creams!

Mwahahahaha - bow down, fools!

*ahem*

I've been aheming a lot lately. 'Fresher's Flu' is in the air and everyone is either coughing, sneezing, sniffling or all of the above. My psychology tutor in college told me that there about 120 variants of the cold virus and once you've had one, you become immune to it. I think everyone's brought their own...

My first week of classes is over and what an interesting mix they are. Monday was Imaginary & Real Worlds in which we read a few creation myths, discussed recurring themes and how they tie in with superhero origin stories (i.e. all’s quiet, something triggers a metamorphoses, there’s a bit of conflict, some kind of resolution, but nothing’s the same again). We were also given a fifteen minute exercise in which to come up with our own creation myth or origin story.

No mean feat!

After that was our first Fiction Workshop, which is essentially the same as what I’ve done in previous creative writing groups, but with a little more specific work involved. That said, last week’s workshop consisted of sharing and discussing our favourite books, films and TV shows. The usual batch was on offer but we then had to think about how those things have influenced us as writers for next week (just a paragraph on each).

We also have to make five observations about anything, just to show that we’re being alert and keeping our eyes open for inspiration.

And we have to take something with us to read aloud and have critically analysed by the group. Fortunately I’ve got a whole portfolio of stuff to choose from :)

Tuesday was Myth, Epic & Folk Tale, which, it turns out, is actually an English Lit module. I left the class kinda daunted by the whole thing. We’ve got quite a long list of stuff that has to be read for the course, the first of which being Homer’s Odyssey for the 7th.

I don’t know if any of you have ever read Homer’s Odyssey. It’s loooong. And I am not a fast reader.

Also, it’s kinda baffling. The whole thing is laid out in a Shakespearean, poetic style and the language and structure make some of the idea hard to follow. All the same, I’m enjoying it so far.

The first assessment for the course is a deep, critical analysis of either that or The Grimm Fairy Tales, involving extensive reading and research. I’ve never been much for research…

Wednesday was something called Learning & Personal Development. Not a lecture, as such, more a way of helping us manage our time when it comes to assessments and seeing how we progress throughout the year.

It is an utter waste of time, which is ironic seeing as the main part of it is aimed at helping us manage what little time we have. They’ve chosen to do this by taking an hour off us every week (two on week three) and giving us an extra assignment to do.

Academics can be such morons.

I was hoping to get to my first mixed martial arts class on Wednesday evening, but GoogleMaps guided me around and around in the wrong direction before leading me to the back of the complex, which was all locked up. On reviewing the map and the satellite photo, I realised I could’ve just walked straight down the main road and found the entrance. GoogleMaps is far more detailed than other map sites (Mapquest didn’t recognise the address I was looking for), but its directions are pathetic)

Thursday’s are my day off. Yay! Every university student gets one, except a select few taking joint courses (that’s joint as in two conjoining courses, not joint as in the first thing that probably crossed a few of your minds on first seeing the word) who don’t plan their timetable well enough.

Thursday was the first Kendo session and I was really looking forward to going along and hitting people (well, being hit more likely) with big sticks, but I was too exhausted from coughing up chunks of lung to make it.

*ahem*

Finally, Friday was Playwriting Fundamentals. Again, this one was a little daunting because quite a few members of the class have done some form of playwriting, performance or drama as part of their A-Levels. I’m one of only two who have no experience in it whatsoever. However, I’m not too scared. As far as I could make out from the class, the trick is to be sparse with details and focus predominantly on dialogue.

I like dialogue :)

Incidentally, I’ve recently been reading R.A. Salvatore’s Vector Prime (the first of the Star Wars: New Jedi Order novels) and have realised that, as good as he is at putting together a good action scene, he sucks at dialogue. Otherwise it’s an enjoyable novel, so far. I hope to have a chance to get back to it at some within the next three years, though my reading lists are telling me it’s unlikely…

Anyway, there are two thing in particular that I find interesting about the playwriting module. First is the performance aspect. Unlike most writing classes where you would read out your own work to be assessed by the class and tutor, we’re essentially required to write scripts that will then be performed by other members of the class, and perform scripts written by other class members.

Secondly, we have no class on the 3rd and 17th of October. Instead we’re off to the theatre to take in a couple of performances. Beyond the odd pantomime when I was young, I’ve never experienced the theatre.

This Monday will be our first Prose Fundamentals lecture, which happens alternate weeks in place of Imaginary and Real Worlds. Hopefully that won’t bring with it it’s own reading list, though I hold out little hope…

In other news, I now have a full compliment of posters adorning my walls. Combined with the vast amount of drinking I did last week and already building stress over the workload, I’m feeling like a true student again!

Staying True to Source

It's often difficult for game-to-film adaptations. Certain things have to be done to placate the fans and certain sacrifices have to be made to make a a good film.

We're still waiting for someone to strike the right balance, but some decent efforts have been seen. In Tomb Raider, it was casting the perfect actress for the job (it was just a shame the story was so iffy). In Doom, it was including a full action-sequence shot in first-person perspective (it was just a shame the story was so iffy). In Hitman, it was some beautifully constructed action set-pieces (it was just a shame the story was so iffy).

The apparent supernatural bent being put on Max Payne is looking a bit iffy, but in terms of nice touches, this one is nice:



I particularly like the line, "I knew the sun would come up tomorrow, and I knew I would be alone to see it."

Amazing

I've actually caught up with all of my alerts!

Please tell me this is a joke...?!

O...kay...

As I mentioned earlier, I can't get a TV signal where I curently reside, so I'm reduced to using the BBC's 'iPlayer' to keep up with my favourite TV. While browsing said site this evening, I came across something that has left me bewildered.



From the network that brought us such greatness as Doctor Who, Never Mind the Buzzcocks and Life on Mars, we get d-list (and below) 'celebrities' dressed in silver lycra, trying to fit through a hole in a moving wall, all in the name of charity and entertainment.

Having browsed YouTube for the above - if only to clarify that I haven't fallen into some whiskey-induced hallucinogenic coma - I've found this exists as a Japanese show. No surprise there.

However, I've also found that there are both American and Australian versions of this incomprehensible shit.

I know our respective societies have been spiralling down the pughole for some time now, but I had, in my most fevered imaginings, never thought we'd fallen this far.

Excuse while I assume the foetal possition beneath my bed...

Fortunate Son

It has been a long time since I had a social life, so it feels kinda strange having my first night off for a week.

As I said previously, last Saturday I was out with friends, Sunday I was driving into the night and Monday I was out with housemates, among others.

Monday was, by some distance, the most exercise I've done for about two years, so Tuesday was spent in some pain. In fact, my calves were sore for two whole days.

Tuesday, my housemates and I stayed in for drinking, chatting and 'getting to know you'.

Wednesday was back out to a club where I got to know one of my housemates particularly well. Before anyone gets any ideas, she has a boyfriend, but we certainly bonded.

Thursday was even more clubbing and bonding, this time involving a stripper-pole. I never knew I could hang upside down from one of those, but I suppose it's something to bare in mind should finances go south...

Returning home at around 2:30, said housemate and I were up for over an hour nattering, eating and nattering, all of which meant I didn't wake up till 8:58 on Friday morning, which, seeing as I was supposed to be at uni to read out the piece I'd written as a result of Wednesday's field-trip at 9:15, wasn't good.

Nevertheless, I somehow made it and all went well. There are some damned good writers on my course...

Eep.

The session fortunately finished early, so I had time to come home and revive myself with a shower before heading back in to take advantage of the free food and drink on offer. Usually these things consist of coke/lemonade and a few sandwiches and canapés. On offer at this one was a free bottle of soft-drink or booze and lasagne (beef or veggie), Chinese or Balti, all piping hot, fresh and beautifully prepared.

I had the lasagne with a bottle of Bud, and a box of popcorn for desert.

With two housemates going home for the weekend, I figured last night would be night off, so settled in with a bottle wine. That was until about 10 when I was invited to one of the kitchens upstairs (there are two on every floor) for a 'Mexican-themed' party (they had rice and and Doritos). The glass or two of wine I planned on relaxing with ended up becoming the whole bottle and it was about 1 when I finally got to bed.

I slept in this morning, did some shopping this afternoon and have just finished eating pizza, drinking coffee and watching Die Hard 4.0 (featuring the above-posted track from Creedence Clearwater Revival). I'm now going to pour myself something alcoholic and watch a DVD before turning in for the night.

No beer and no TV make Bebbet something something...

Fortunately, I have beer, so it ain't all bad.

I'm here!

The months of waiting are over and I am, at last, in Cheltenham, ready to start my new life as a student. The past week has been a blur of induction meetings, furniture arranging, quicky-meal 'cooking', getting lost, finding pubs, getting to know people, getting pissed and recovering from getting pissed.

Last Saturday I drove Surrey top stay overnight with friends, to limit the amount of driving I'd have to do on Sunday. Cheltenham is a four-and-a-half hour drive from Sunderland, but only an hour and a half from Surrey. Unfortunately, the overnight stay involved going out for a friend of a friend's birthday, so I wasn't exactly in the fittest of states on Sunday. In fact, I was nursing a splitting headache all day, compounded by not being able to find a petrol (gas) station when the fuel warning light came on, then getting lost in Cheltenham trying to find the campus.

I had hoped to get there early and get away as soon as possible, so I could take my dad's car home.

After moving all of my stuff in and going through a bunch of meetings about accomadation rules, regulations, dos and don'ts, it was 6pm. Stopping off for fuel and something to eat on the way home (I hadn't eaten or had a smidgen of caffeine all day) it was 11:30 when I got home. I had time for a cup of tea and some last second packing before going to bed.

Monday was mostly spent on a train, including a half-hour unscheduled stop thanks to a signal failure. As advised by my head of department, I stopped in at the university as soon as I arrived, which proved to be an unnecessary excursion, but the campus is only a three minute walk from my halls of residence, so it wasn't so bad.

The mess I returned to, however, was bad. I hadn't had a chance to unpack anything on Sunday, so my room was all bags, boxes and lacking floor-space. I made some vacant attempt at unpacking, but once my TV, 360 and 'puter were done, I gave up, made my bed and joined some housmates on a night out.

Several hours of bouncing around a dance-floor and several fewer hours of sleep later, it was time for my first induction session. It was very dull as, it tunrs out, the rest were for the whole week, though Wednesday did see a group trip to the Victoria Art Gallery in Bath to draw some inspiration for a sample project.

There wasn't a lot to see at the gallery, but at least a dozen pieces triggered some form of story in my head. That would have been a good thing if not for the fact we had to deliver the finished piece yesterday morning.

Eventually I settled on a painting called The Bride of Death by Thomas Jones Barker (I've scoured the web for a decent picture, but come up lacking) and wrote this.

It's also worth noting that Bath is, at first glance, a rather beautiful city. When you look a little deeper, that traditional building façades are spoiled somewhat by the over-abundance of corporate logos and construction work, but it's still a very pleasant place to stroll around.

So, here I am. My room's as I want it (though could do with a couple of more posters), I'm getting along well with my housemates (one we never see, but the other four of us have hit it off well), I've been mistaken for Irish three times and everyone thinks I look 22, which is nice.

It's a shame I can't get a TV signal but, with the help of Comedy Central and iPlayer, I'm not missing much, and it does save me having to buy a TV license.

Classes start on Monday. By then I'll have hopefully caught up with alerts...

Ceremony

Inspired by Thomas Jones Barker's "The Bride of Death"

We have spent so long preparing for this night. We vowed that nothing would get in the way; that we would not be denied our ceremony.

She looks so beautiful in her gown; its simple beauty reflecting her own. White satin made almost crystalline in the moonlight. A full, glorious summer moon that turns her skin to porcelain. Her golden hair frames the personification of purity. A wondrous vision marred only by the slight gape of her pale lips and the strained, shallow rise and fall of her bosom. Her heart races with anticipation, as mine struggles even to crawl.

Calm yourself, my love. Soon it will be past.

My hand quivers feebly as I take up hers. It is cold to the touch, but her slender fingers grip strongly, as if she fears to ever let go. I feel like I should close the window, but she does so love the fresh ocean air.

In her other hand she holds her humble bouquet: Forget-me-nots that I picked for her that morning. I even made a small crown of them for her to wear.

It lies broken now, on her pillow.

She gently closes her mouth and draws in a long, deep breath that seems to fill her with life. And then she opens her eyes and, for a moment, my heart soars. She looks from me to my ever faithful companion and she smiles. She could always find peace in his big, soulful eyes. She said he would be my best man. And, indeed, a better friend I never knew.

Her smile fades and she closes her eyes.

I can hear distant church bells sing in chorus to the tide.

And my best friend howls his death lament, as The Reaper takes his bride.

The Same Old New Shit

The montage at around the five minute mark says it all:

The Best F**king News Team Ever

Giving a voice to the unheard victims of Gustav (WARNING: Contains images some may find upsetting):



(I'm a little behind on my Daily Show watching)

Inní Mér Syngur Vitleysingur

No, I can't pronnounce it either, but that's Icelandic for ya...



I wish there was an English-speaking band that could produce a sound like that. Anyone happen to know of one? I know The Polyphonic Spree come close, as do The Flaming Lips in their grander moments, but there's something majestic about Sigur Rós's sound that I don't think the rest can quite capture.

Last Shadow Puppets

I meant to post this ages ago, but kept forgetting its name :/

And It Was All Going So Well

Today started brightly enough. I've been waiting over a week to take delivery of Warcraft III and it finally arrived this morning, along with my new Visa card and the train tickets for the final leg of my move on the 15th.

I played through the introduction to Warcraft III and had fun doing so.

Then it all started to go a bit wrong...

Enrolment day at university has always been a messy one. Queue after queue wrapping around a sports hall of tired and frustrated new students all waiting for hours on end to get the relevant forms checked and signed and their ID cards given.

This being the internet age, however, enrolment can now be done online. The first step is to arrange payment of the tuition fees, if it hasn’t already been handled by the LEA (Local Education Authority). Mine hadn’t been so I checked the documentation they sent me to see if it said when they would be.

It didn’t.

Instead it claimed that I hadn’t even applied for them!

Traumatised, I tried to call the student finance direct helpline to find out what was going on, while I checked my online application to see if I’d really been that stupid.

I hadn’t.

There it was, plain as day: Do you wish to apply for a loan to cover your tuition fee costs? - Yes

Trauma turned to confusion and I made sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me by reading it a few times over while I waited in the queue for an operator.

Twenty minutes went by.

Displeased, frustrated and increasingly anxious, I decided to head down to the council offices and speak with the LEA people face-to-face. The woman I talked to looked confused, took my forms, disappeared into an office for ten minutes and returned with the expression of someone about to deliver bad news.

It seems that the LEA will only provide a loan for tuition fees four times and, since I’ve already had it twice before, they’re not going to give it this time and will instead hold it for the second and third years of the course. The £3,145 required for the first year, I’ll have to drum up myself.

I’m pretty sure, if there weren’t people standing around waiting to be dealt with, I still wouldn’t have swung for her, but it did take a lot of restraint not to put my fist through the glass panel behind me.

I tried to get some kind of explanation out of her as to why this restriction would be in place, seeing as they’re loans and are paid back eventually anyway, and why I wasn’t told my application had been unsuccessful a month ago when the decision was made and I might've had some time to prepare, but the best she could do was look uncomfortable and mumble something about that being how their system works.

I spent a coupla more minutes pointing out the gaping flaws in that system, increasing her discomfort in front of the other people she’d soon have to deal withh, before storming off in a bit of rage, leaving, “Nice of the Local Education Authority to completely fuck-up my education,” as a parting shot.

I pondered a little retail therapy and perhaps a large cuppa joe, but was in too bad a mood and chose to come straight home.

After gathering myself for a few minutes, I looked into the fee payment process on the uni’s site. Two instalments are taken in November and January, so I at least have some time to work something out. The measly £500 in my savings isn’t going to cut it, but it’s a start. Regardless, I set up the payment plan and completed the enrolment process.

Wanting to turn my mind to something else, I set about sorting through my DVD collection to figure what’s going with me. Pixie gave me the idea of taking them in a CD carry-case to save room and I fortunately have two; a 33 slot and a 64 slot. Still, deciding what stays and what goes was not
I don’t think I can afford to buy another case…

I Somehow Missed This

And I'm somewhat relieved: