Academic subcultures = pure annoyance

I haven’t been updating this blog, and you might think I have abandoned it. I haven’t; it’s just that the workload of late has been rather problematic. Technically, it shouldn’t be a lot. I have two essays of two thousand words each, and a report of a thousand words. I can type an average of one thousand words per hour, and I do that every morning. The problem is the style. Officially, I hate academic subcultures and their specific writing styles. I hate them so much that I never wish to use them again. Why is it no possible to write something which is sensible, and at the same time, entertaining? I’m more Monty Python than Shakespeare, and even Shakespeare’s language is more colourful than the dry-as-firewood academic style which I’m being forced to use. I want to use slang, contractions, perhaps add a ’savvy’ every now and then. It’s all good fun, and I’m perfectly understandable. Why else would people online read my stuff? It’s not sophisticated at all; I find joy in writing about blowing up cathedrals in Rome. That is not high class literature. Indeed, some would say it isn’t literature at all; basically, it’s entertaining nonsense.

I have a week before the first of my essays and my psychological report are due in. I’m living day by day, not thinking about the future because I don’t want to consider the fact that I might not be able to produce my essay and report in time. I’m also lamenting the fact that I have to be stuck indoors writing boring stuff when I can be outside, just watching the world go by, and perhaps writing interesting stuff. There are a lot of ideas in my head. The more work I have, the more plotbunnies generate. They hop around inside my mind, nagging me until I put them down on a page, whether it is a blank word document or a piece of paper. Preferably a blank word document; I am fond of the backspace key.

Spring has come at last, but this is when the workload is getting most intense. After my essays, I have exams, and then perhaps I’m free. But until then, I am a slave to academia. Why do I even bother? I don’t particularly care for qualifications. As long as I get into my courses next year, I’m good with it. I have no desire to shine or be lifted above my peers because of my academic achievements. To shine because I write fun stuff is a good thing though; I want to be known as someone who can waffle on about absolutely nothing and still be entertaining.

I have typed a good deal, and all this time, I could have been and should have been working on my essay, but I am just so tired, and I have had enough of it. Perhaps this afternoon at home, but I feel no inclination to open my books, not that I have ever felt the inclination to open academic books. As predicted, novels are an entirely different matter. I have Sense and Sensibility lying beside my pillow at home. I’m actually reading Jane Austen, and to people who know me, the fact that I am reading classic romances is a sign that I’m really tired and sick of everything, and need a change. Perhaps a bout of writing about blowing up cathedrals might cure me.

Bleurgh…no title today

My tricycle arrived today. It’s the type of blue that I like, and after a few rounds, I got rather good at it. Now I just have to pluck up the courage to actually ride it out onto more open roads. My mother keeps on nagging me to get ‘real life’ friends, but it’s so difficult to actually find a topic to talk about to complete strangers. They don’t understand my sense of humour, and I’m not interested in the gossip about their lives. My world is so completely different from theirs; I live through my imagination. My life isn’t just about jobs and money and boyfriends. Well, actually, it lacks two of the three thngs mentioned.

I guess I’m just not a social person. Social events such as parties make me want to run in the opposite direction, simply because I detest modern ‘music’ (i.e. pop, rap, hip hop etc.). The fact that I can’t stand these things means that I don’t often meet new people. There isn’t exactly a writers’ society out there either, and even if they was, they would dismiss my stuff as ‘not serious literature’ because it doesn’t reflect modern society. My work’s just pure fun. I don’t do it for any reason other than to put a smile onto someone’s face or make someone laugh.

A Romantic Ride on a Tricycle

I went a bought a tricycle today; not the type for small children, but an adult-sized tricycle. It’s going to take the place of my car, not that I had one in the first place. I had intended to actually learn to drive, but there are many reasons for me not to drive. Firstly, cars are scary, and I can’t control them. Secondly, they are hellishly expensive to maintain. Thirdly, I hate the smell of petrol (gas to you Americans out there). A tricycle has many benefits. It stands upright on its own, so I won’t fall over when I signal turns. It has a basket in the back for storage, unlike bikes. It’s cheaper than a car. I get exercise while travelling and I’m also doing the world a favour by diminishing my carbon footprint. The main reason I got one was that I really couldn’t be bothered learning to drive. Lessons cost NZ$40 each at the best and knowing how klutzy I am, I’ll probably need quite a few lessons before I can actually steer the car without a) using the brakes every five seconds while going at five kilometres per hour or b) crashing into the neighbour’s rose bush.

I told my friend about my decision not to drive, and her response basically went ’so what about when you have kids?’.

I answered, ‘I might not even get married.’

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why don’t you want to get married?’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to get married,’ I said. ‘But if I don’t find the right man, then I won’t marry. I don’t need a man.’

Many girls seem to think that in order to be happy, they need a partner. That might be true for some people, but for some others, that might not be the best option. And even if it is true, some girls just try too hard for the ‘ideal future’. Take my friend, Ruth*. She goes online to find love, and chats with these guys from all over the world. She so craves romance that she even falls in love with these online acquaintances. When they broke up, Ruth didnt’ want to be online at the same time as her cyber-ex. I tried telling Ruth that she doesn’t need a man to complete her, but I guess she’s more of a traditional type of girl. Now her main worry is that her parents are actually going to try to choose a husband for her. For me, her behaviours and attitudes highlights a type of female insecurity. For generations, human females have considered themselves inferior to their male counterparts, up until the mid twentieth century. Even now, in the twenty-first century I sometimes get told that I can’t do something or will never do something simply because of my gender. Needless to say, this little rebel has not accepted the stereotypes nicely, if I have even accepted  them at all.

I once fell in love with a boy at school. He left, and I didn’t know where he went until I found his social networking page. And, of course, I sent him a ‘friend invite’. He did not answer and I presumed that he’d declined my invitation. Strangely enough, that did not make me depressed. Instead, I felt relieved. At last, I had a conclusion to my unfinished one-sided romance. I could leave it all behind me and start fulfilling my role in life, whatever that might be. I have pretty much given up on romance now. I’m not the sort of girl that boys look at, and I don’t care anymore. I’m me. I’ve got my friends, my writing, my goals. I’ve got a loving family and I know where I’m going in life. What more can I want? I don’t need a man to complete me. I already am complete. (Of course, add-ons and upgrades are always welcome.)

The mini-philosopher in me.

I just finished my essay, but I’m getting a sense of doom, possibly because I feel that my essay is horrid. It always happens though; I finish a piece of writing (done in a style with which I am not familiar) and I am very insecure about it. I get reassured when others tell me it’s good, or when I get an A (that does not happen most of the time, so I suppose my worries are not over the top, mostly).

I despise academic subcultures. Actually, I despise having to conform to any style. Perhaps that rebel in me is still not tamed, because whenever anyone adamantly argues for one thing, I feel the urge to argue for the opposite side, even though I might not agree with my own arguments. I don’t know why, but I feel really irritated when people are very certain that they are right. It seems to me that no one side is right, although all sides can be wrong, but we don’t see how wrong we are until something goes really badly in our lives, and we have to revise our opinions.

Don’t know what’s gotten into me, because that was really philosophical. Usually, I’m just a ditzy girl who likes to look at pictures of good looking actors and cast them in my stories. Perhaps it’s the influence of Kingdom of Heaven, since I’ve just finished the movie. It makes me wiser and more thoughtful than usual.

Anyway, considering I’ve just finished Kingdom of Heaven, I’m going to write Baldwin V’s coronation scene, and that court drama concerning Guy and Sibylla. Not sure how I missed it last time; I think I was too busy with the creosote bush and a sulky and hot knight.

A little boat in a storm.

Real life seems to be overwhelming me at the moment. I’m like a wee boat in a storm out on the ocean. The waves surge around me, wild and menacing, and there is no land in sight. As soon as I sail over one wave, another one comes at me. I just have to hold on and hope that I don’t sink. I am feeling a bit frayed. Perhaps there is a leak somewhere. All I want to do is rest in the safe harbour of my imagination and write about other people’s dramas, not that there are any dramas in my life. It just alternates between fiction and reality, which mostly revolves around studying, and studying is so boring.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but right now, I actually enjoy my early mornings when I get up before dawn just to type about a thousand words of fiction. Sure, bed is nice, but I feel bad if I don’t get my writing done. It’s an obsession. I just have to do it. Essay writing doesn’t count. I wouldn’t read an essay for enjoyment and so I can’t write one. Most of the good essays that I write are based on luck.

A Random Bout of Typing.

I’m feeling rather good about myself at the moment. I was not rushing around trying to get everything done this morning, and I wrote a decent amount, so I’m pretty proud of myself, actually, since in the mornings, I’m generally not motivated to do anything. I also finished one essay in the weekend, so that might contribute to my confidence this morning, since I have almost three weeks to work on my other one.

I’m waiting for the university printer to work at the moment. It’s still early, so the room is relatively empty. There are still free computers. Later in the day, it will be very full. I have so many papers in my backpack that it is not funny. I’ll have to sort them out and file them tonight, or else I’ll lose track of everything and I’ll never be able to locate my notes. It takes so much energy to simply make myself do the work though. I’d much rather write about something, as long as it is prose and not something argumentative. Now, that takes far too much energy.

The concrete outside is dark with water. The branches of the trees are skeletal in the pale grey winter light; they are naked, save for a few brown withered leaves still clinging onto them. Very few people are out and about on this cold dreary mrning. I can see two people sitting on a bench, talking and smoking. Well, at least one of them is talking. The other just sits there, staring in front of her as if she is simply part of the landscape.

Waves of hot hair waft from the heater beside me. It gets a bit irritating, actually, but I chose the seat because it was close to the window and because the computer was already on, so I wouldn’t have to wait for it to start up. There is a text that I have to read for this afternoon’s tutorial, right after my class on Islamic history. I don’t feel like reading it, but I know I have to, or else I won’t be able to contribute. However, the remnants of the weekend still stain my mind. I want to make a video for YouTube, or just simply type and let the sound of my fingers tapping on the keyboard sooth me. It’s almost like meditating. Whenever I just let myself go and simply write or type, it’s like I’ve gone into a trance. Nothing really seems to matter except the sound of the keyboard and the words of the screen, or, if I’m writing with pen and paper, the scratch of the pen, the scribbles, and the texture of the paper.

My eyelids feel heavy, as if I am about to fall asleep again. It must be the warmth of the room, and my relaxed state, because if it was a bit colder, I would be wide awake. Temperature is so important to levels of concentration. I like it a little bit cooler, but everyone else seems to be fine in the warmth. Perhaps I’m used to a colder temperature indoors, since at my place, we hardly ever use heaters, prefering to wear coats indoors.

Perhaps I should stop typing now. My fingers on the keyboard feel good, but the sound and the rhythm are making me sleepy.

Christian Bale and World Events

Thursday 24 July 2008, The Press, CHCH.

No, I’m not going to blog about Christian Bale and his life; that’s his business. Truth be told, I’m more interested in the newspaper itself. It’s very interesting actually. Notice how the headline about Mr. Bale has a bigger font than the one about the man who did something nasty with a bulldozer? Moreover, the former is higher than the latter, and the fact that they’re on the same page in the world news section really does say a lot.

The newspaper tells us that as a society or a species, we are very nosy. We want to know other people’s deepest darkest secrets. That’s why the headline about Mr. Bale is very big. The editors of the newspaper probably want people to see it, get interested, and buy the paper. And if they didn’t know that we would be more interested in Christian Bale than, say, the plight of the Palestinian people, why would they give him a bigger headline?

It also shows us how trivial we have become. Since when did gossip about famous actors become worthy headlines in world news? Not that I don’t read gossip, but the world news section is presumably for news which has some sort of world impact. As good an actor as Christian Bale is, I highly doubt he has any effect on world events which can influence the fate of the human species. Lots of people assault others, and if every person who was accused of assaulting someone was mentioned in the news, we’d have newspapers as thick as the Oxford Dictionary. So really, world news should be saved for those really important things, such as the rebirth of the Taliban in Afghanistan, or the state of affairs in Iraq, or Israel and Iran’s latest confrontation and another rise in oil prices…you get my idea.

It’s a sad world, isn’t it, when people are more interested in the private business of actors than things which could actually affect their lives. ‘How?’ you say. ‘Iran and Israel are really far away. I live all the way in Australia/Brazil/the United States/Japan/New Caledonia/England. It’s not going to affect me.’ The fact is, the world is like a row of dominoes. One domino toppling over will hit another domino, causing it to fall, and so on and so on…you know, the Domino Effect. Israel and Iran going to war would cause oil prices to soar, and since most things in this world need oil, your wallet is going to be a lot lighter. Now, perhaps obesity is a bad thing, but I’ve never heard of anyone complaining that their wallet is too heavy.

As for Christian Bale’s business? Well, it’s his business. Let’s leave it at that.

Banning Junk Food — The Embodiment of Futility.

The other day, my brother told me about how in his high school (which was my high school) has banned the sale of junk food in the school canteen. The canteen has a monopoly on the student’s food expenditure as students are not permitted out of school grounds during school hours, and that includes lunchtime. This is a rather autocratic move on the school’s part (school has never been much of a democracy, but this is one of the worst moves yet) because I can be certain that most students don’t want to be sold sugar-free sweets which taste bad, vegetarian sandwiches and juice mixed with spring-water. They want their sausage rolls, their mince pies and their french fries.

They’ve been talking about banning unhealthy food for a while now; it’s part of the Ministry of Education’s strategy to decrease obesity in young New Zealanders. However, such a move is futile, by my reckoning. Teenagers are determined when it comes to eating, and if they can’t get what they want the conventional way, they’ll start looking for unconventional ways.

Last year was the year I graduated, and already, I knew there were the beginnings of a blackmarket instant-noodle trade being conducted by some of the senior students. They would buy boxes upon boxes of instant-noodles from the shops, commandeer a few lockers and use them for storage. If younger students wanted noodles, they would search out the senior students and carry out the transaction. Not bad for teenagers, you know. I was quite impressed. It was tremendously systematic. It occurred not because there weren’t instant noodles for sale at the canteen, but simply because the senior students provided more flavours of instant noodles.

My brother tells me that the underground noodle trade has experienced an upsurge ever since the junk food ban, which included the noodles which the canteen used to sell. At this rate, the canteen will probably run out of business pretty soon because, unlike the other students, senior students were allowed to go out during school hours. I’m pretty sure some of the younger students will soon begin to pay the older students who have cars to go out to the local take-out shops to buy them pizzas or fish and chips. It’s already happening, only it’s on a very small scale. Don’t think it will stay that way for long.

So really, ordering people to stop eating junk food is futile. What you have to do is convince them to eat healthy food, and really, it’s up to families to instill a habit of healthy eating into the children. Force is pretty much useless when the majority is against a certain idea. After all, we’re a world which promotes democracy.

Good intentions amount to nothing.

You know, I had every intention of reading my history textbooks and going over my notes today. Knowing me, it didn’t happen. I was too busy reading and replying to my reviews (that was during late morning and early afternoon), and then once again, I’m stuck to the computer screen. It’s just that the internet is so interesting, and I have so many things I can do online, compared with the fairly limited amount of activities I can do offline. But I will do what I’m meant to do tomorrow (who are you kidding, Tel?).

I launched my new story yesterday. These days, my life seems to revolve around my fanfiction and my online social life. My parents keep on telling me that I need to go out more, but real people seem so mundane. I hardly ever find anyone who can talk about the weird things which I’m interested in. My best friend is all the way over in the North Island, so I can’t really talk to her, except through instant messaging. Honestly, the phone bills cost more than if I want to call somewhere far away like Alaska.

There’s this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that I should concentrate on my studies, but where is the fun in that? All right, studying gets you money –my scholarships tell me that much– but it’s so boring. All you do is sit there and stare at the page and hope that your sponge-like brain can absorb something and retain it. Let’s face it, most water goes out of the sponge after you take it out of the water. At least my exam marks from last semester weren’t too bad. I didn’t fail anything, so I’m slightly relieved.

All right, I’m just rambling and being boring here, and I haven’t even written in my journal. I’ll go off and do that now. Oh, and I’m feeling a bit hungry. Maybe it’s time to rob the pantry.

Idiots and…wise people?

The other day, I was making up a statement concerning freedom and wisdom and I needed a group noun for wise and smart people. Being the relatively studious sort of person, I went and got my Oxford Thesaurus off my bookshelf and tried to look for something which would suit. One of the few words I knew which meant someone smart was ‘genius’, but as there was such a fine and fuzzy line between genius and madness, I couldn’t use that for my saying. I looked up ‘genius’ in the Thesaurus. That didn’t yield any good results (‘Einstein’ wasn’t exactly what I was looking for) so I went and looked up ‘intellectual’ instead. There were very few synonyms, but after a while, I chose ’sage’. The word ‘intellectual’, while appropriate, didn’t have the right rhythm. The thing is, I didn’t find many nouns which meant ’smart people’.

Out of curiosity, I looked up the word ‘fool’. That was the other word I was using in my statement. There were so many synonyms listed there that it would take a while for me to type them all out. I found ‘idiot’, ‘ass’ (very insulting to donkeys, in my opinion), ‘halfwit’, ‘blockhead’, ‘dunce’, ‘dolt’, ‘dullard’, ’simpleton’, ‘clod’, ‘dope’ etc. just to name a few. The most important observation was that there were a lot more synonyms for ‘fool’ than there were for ‘intellectual’.

So what does that tell us about society? It was just a curious thought. Why are there so many words for a stupid person? Do we live in a society of idiots, or are we just a defamatory society which delights in putting people down? Either way, it doesn’t look great.

And the fanfiction feud continues.

I admit, I lurk a bit in other people’s forums, if only to better my understanding of the so-called ‘enemy’. Mind you, while I respect a lot of them as wordsmiths, I have no respect for them as people. They tend to like to stick their noses in other people’s business. One of them, I’ll call her N for the sake of her right to anonymity, attacked my friend for writing a parody of a really bad story. Now, I only write parodies of other people’s stuff if I have reached the end of my patience with them (that occurs when the author has refused to accept any helpful advice which people have given them and has rudely said so), and to my knowledge, that bad story was the only story which my friend has ever mocked, and the author doesn’t care. 

As a result, the parodies and MST’s of other people’s stories have now been banned on the site, where N is a moderator. To add insult to injury, N has been gloating, yes, gloating about her victory. Not that it’s much of a victory to speak of. I was actually thinking of giving up my MST because frankly, I don’t have the time to MST twenty-one or more chapters of a bad story. However, after this little episode, I’m determined to finish the MST no matter what, if only just to spite those who think they have won. We’ll not stop just because the site has banned us. That’s why my friend made a site, and I’m advertising it. If you’re interested, you’ll find the site here. I’ve also made my own MST blog, called Mockfiction. That’s just my nature. I’m not doing this because of the story. I’m doing this because I refuse to admit defeat to those women who are acting like children. Yes, I know I’m being immature, but hey, I’m a teenager; I’m allowed to be immature. Those women are mothers or are over thirty. They shouldn’t be having bitch-fights with teenagers.

It is an author’s right to write bad fiction. It’s called ‘Freedom of Speech’. It is also someone’s right to mock bad fiction; that is also called ‘Freedom of Speech’. No one complains about parodies of Star Wars or Lord of the Rings, simply because they’re published works. When someone puts his or her work on the internet, it is open to scrutiny, and readers have just as much right to write parodies of those as they do to write parodies of actual published works.

Our parodies might not be well-written, but some of them are very well written, and it’s a way to relax, to let off steam after having read bad fiction, or just to try and convince the author that they have made some stupid mistakes if they won’t listen to nice suggestions.

Just life, really.

Well, I actually managed to get up in the morning today, and then wasted all the time online. Honestly, I feel as if I am addicted to the internet. The first thing I do when I get up is go on the computer and see who’s online. It’s sad, actually. A lot of time should actually be spent writing. However, I have just finished a story, and I expect to feel melancholic for a while yet. It just feels like that another stage of my life is over, and I’ll never experience the joy of writing that particular story again.

I did read a book, and it was a really funny one too; a chick-lit novel. I’ve become quite fond of those at the moment. Maybe it’s the need to read something silly and lighthearted after reading all those serious history books. My friend’s got his forum up and running, and people are posting things there. It’s quite exciting, and I’ve stolen some ideas from the other forum .

Anyway, I did a paper dump again (to those of you who don’t know, a paper dump is when I dump all my drafts because I’ve finished typing them up. It amounts to quite a lot of paper per week). My desk now looks slightly tidier, but I’ve yet to prepare for the return to my studies. Exam grades come out on Tuesday, and I hate waiting for results. It’s almost worse than doing the exam itself.

This week, I should actually be working on the beginning of the next instalment of my fanfiction series. I’ve got the minor details sorted out, finally. What amazed me was how long it took to find a proper name for a very minor character, and the right Roman emperor. Since it’s only the first week of semester, I don’t expect too much work, so it’ll be quite good for launching the sequel (and even if it was a busy week, I would launch the sequel anyway. I made a promise).

Nothing exciting has happened in my life lately. I’ve even neglected journal writing *gasp*. Once the semester starts, there will be more things to talk about.

End of holidays…and I haven’t done anything.

It’s the end of the mid-year break, and I have to say, I haven’t done anything except sleep, and feud with people on the internet (but that’s counted as doing nothing, because we’re all bark and no bite). I just found that MST’s and parodies of other people’s bad writing have been banned on the fanfiction sites which I frequent. It’s a shame, because it’s a way to let off steam after reading such bad fiction.

 

I’m also starting on my new crossover. It’s the last in the series (so far anyway) and I’ve done so much research for the back-story. It’s odd, actually because although it’s important, it’s only a minor detail in the plot.

 

Anyway, I promise myself that I will clean up my room tomorrow. It’s an absolute mess; clothes are everywhere, my desk is buried under paper and I hardly have the room to move about. Better have that all done before I go to archery with my friend on Sunday, or else I’ll be starting this new semester with a pig-sty for a workstation.