The M Word

Currently Loving: My maths teacher's total obliviousness to the youth of today's language. Today we had to explain what LOL, ROFL and LMAO meant. He thought the latter was LAMO, as in, what a lame joke. He seemed to get that alot.



Maybe it's just cause I'm growing up. Maybe everyone thinks the world is ageing with them, that the prospect of something once so well loved is now looked upon as babyish or immature. It causes some to panic - and why shouldn't it? The idea you can never get back to when life was simple, when you took it day by day and never worried about the future. Never worried about war, politics, the environment, illness, death, the terrible things humans can do to each other.
Never worried.
These people have good reason to panic.
I don't know how I've lasted this long.
Perhaps I haven't, and I'm mad already.

Magic - pure, simple wand waving - is never used anymore. JK Rowling got it right in most aspects, and I think the reason she's so popular is that the initial idea of a school for kids with wands, broomsticks, cats and potions, is that is so darn simple nobody thought they'd get away with it. But she did. And how.
But now it's all shady, diluted magic, even those books and programmes about magic itself. Tithe and Ironside, gritty, 18-rated Faerie books, show magic as hazy and uncontrollable, best left alone.
Merlin, of all things, uses long Latin phrases the boy wizard hardly ever gets right first time.
Betwixt, by Tara Bray Smith, doesn't even bother describing the odd, instinctive magic it's characters use. A guy turns into a human Moth. What? How, why?!
Hell if I know.

Then there's the fact most things are entirely disowning magic altogether, and replacing it with it's greatest foe. Science.
Heroes is about a group of people who have certain strands of DNA that generated unique abilities.
Gone, by Michael Grant, features an unanswerable Lost-like conundrum that we know is linked to nuclear fallout.
Even one of the shows I'm the most faithful to, the fantastic Doctor Who, dismisses magic as nonexistent.

Martha: Is it real, though? I mean, witches, black magic, and all that? It’s real?
The Doctor: Course it isn’t!

Dudes. What's wrong with a couple of choruses of Abracadabra?

By The Power Of Three Let Them See

Currently Loving: Why Should I Worry? from Oliver and Company (it's Billy Joel!! SQUEE!!)

Megan Fox, Keira Knightley, Emma Watson, Beyonce Knowles... the list goes on and on. All these girls are considered the height of everything. They're successful, they're rich and they're beautiful.
Or, as some may say, these girls are glamorous.

glam⋅our  /ˈglæmər/ [glam-er] –noun
1. the quality of fascinating, alluring, or attracting, esp. by a combination of charm and good looks.
2. excitement, adventure, and unusual activity: the glamour of being an explorer.
3. magic or enchantment; spell; witchery.

Yeah, see that last one? A glamour is one of the primal forms of magic, dating back to the beginning of mythology. Essentially, it changes your appearance to anyone looking at you, although some can cast glamours on things around them. It's not particularly offencive in magical battle (what some I know would call "flashy stuff" (I know no Wiccans, unforunately)) but looks a lot of fun if it exists.
Thing is.
Glamour.
Glamourous.
Fake?

Something to show you what some glamours are like, although you'll have to skip to the end, I couldn't cut it, sorry:

It's Happening Again...

Currently Loving: Gone and Hunger by Michael Grant

The phone rang, and Michael Grant reached over to answer the inevitable call he'd been waiting for since that morning.
"Michael!" The publisher's voice boomed through the receiver. "It's time for an update! What have you got for us?"
"Well..." Michael picked up and Biro and began twirling it restlessly, glancing nervously at the bookshelves. "I had this... one idea.."
"Go on!" Once again, Michael held the phone away from his ear in response to the bellow coming from his publisher's throat that was probably setting off earthquakes in Japan.
"Uh, okay. Well, what if I have a load of child characters, all under the age of fifteen, say, and all the adults in their world suddenly disappear and they're forced to fend for themselves?"
"You have read Lord of the Flies, right?"
"Um...?"
"Next!" Michael began speaking before he'd brought the phone back to his mouth and had to repeat the first sentence. "Well, next I thought- I said next I thought of people suddenly discovering these weird weird powers, like supermen, without any explanation. There'd be Healers and people who can run super fast and shoot fire-"
"Have you been keeping up with Heroes? I hear they're showing it across the pond now."
"Yeah, but these would be kids-" Michael was cut off by a cough.
"Xmen."
"Well... wait! Wait!" Michael grasped his desk, an amazing, inexplicable and frankly brilliant idea forming in his mind. "What about all those things... together?"
A silence.
"I like it!"


Okay, so the entire conversation above is fictional (and far too dialogue heavy, I apologise) but you get the jist. The fact that this book has elements from other books, films and television is blown away by the sheer awesome (I use that and actually mean Awe-some. Not just my usual slang, ladies and gentlemen, no way!) quality of these books. Forget all your Wolverines and Peter Patrellis, there's a new hero in town now. Sam Temple is a quiet and reserved surfer going to school in small town Perdido Beach. Then, in the middle of third period history class, his teacher poofs. No. Not poofs.

"One minute, the teacher was talking about the Civil War.

And the next he was gone.

There.

Gone.

No "poof". No flash of light. No explosion."

At first dumbstruck, the full horror of Sam and his friend's predicament soon overwhelms them. Every single person over the age of fifteen has disappeared. No parents, no siblings, no teachers. Great, eh?

Maybe not. No police. No doctors. No pizza delivery guys. The children of Perdido Beach find themselves alone, leaderless, and hemmed in by a strange barrier that burns to the touch. All they have is the town, a small segment of sea and surrounding hills, including a nuclear plant, a hotel, a large portion of forest... and a boarding school; Coates Academy.

Now the book sounds a little less shallow, but just think about these ten things before you write it off as your usual teen flick:

1) The babies and toddlers are still there. Who is going to sacrifice their time to look after all them?

2) Food's going to run out soon, but who has the balls to tell people what to do, what to eat and when?

3)People are beginning to get hurt, who's going to look after them?

4)Cars, guns, drugs, smokes, they're all now available to anyone man enough to claim them.

5) Not everyone likes everyone else. Bullies are ruling the streets. Are kids capable of murder?

6) What are the Coates kids doing up on the hill?

7) Why are some kids noticing strange differences about themselves? "I'm sure I couldn't fly before the FAYZ..." (that's the Fallout Alley Youth Zone; a universal name for the goldfish bowl everyone's found themselves trapped in (and no, that's not a quote from the book))

8) A talking coyote? A flying snake? How come that book just walked away?

9) Kids always quarrel, right? Well now they have guns, powers and desperation. Who's going to sort out the fights?

10) What's that voice...?

Unfortunately, I have history coursework for tomorrow. Sound familiar?

No A!! There is no A to speak of!!

Currently Loving: DERREN BROWN, DERREN BROWN and DERREN BROWN!!

Okay, so this guy is awesome!! In case you're wondering, yes, I did get glued to my chair on Friday night! Woo hoo! I was so happy!! Though a couple of weird things happened.
My dad didn't get stuck, for one. This makes me think that whether or not you were kept in your seat had something to do with how much you "believe" in Derren (Tasha got stuck too!! Yaaaay!!)
Secondly, after the spell, trance, effect, WHATEVER wore off on me and I was able to stand up, I got an amazing load of shivers. My hands were trembling, my teeth were chattering and I couldn't stay in one place too long!
Lastly - and this is the only effect that is still to wear off - I became absolutely hysterical while the hypnosis (or whatever you want to call it). There were tears rolling down my face and I couldn't breathe properly. There was nothing funny about it - for those who didn't see it it was a white background with grey parallel lines spinning round on it. And I was shaking with giggles. I haven't laughed that hard that long for years... and it wasn't even a joke! The reason I say it's still with me is whenever I think back to that film, for some reason I can't help smiling...

Hurrm (yep, Watchmen, sorry ;D) I've just realised that some people may not have a clue what I'm speaking of. Deary me. What deprived people you are.
So if that is soo... seriously, you need to watch it...though the moment has kinda passed. Derren Brown, master mentalist, illusionist and showman, attempted a stunt live on television that, if successful, would glue at least half the population to their chairs. He played a hypnotic film at (apparently) exactly the right pitch and frequency to... I dunno, make the body incredibly heavy or forget it can move. Whatever. It worked on a few people, about two thirds of his live audience which, apparently, got it stronger as they had the film on one whole wall and were all "in the moment" (my words, not his. Derren talks better than me :D).

If you're new to him, I suggest you 4OD some of Derren's stuff (or, if you're like me, 4OD ALL of Derren's stuff). Everyone has their favourites, but they're better spoken about than typed. Go check him out.
Go now.
Why are you still here?

Don't Let You Mind Wander... It's Far Too Small To Be Let Out On Its Own

Currently Loving: Bradley James, M79 and The Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre

"I've been having these... weird thoughts lately."
(First words in Kingdom Hearts video game)

To call them dreams would be a lie and to call them thoughts would suggest I understood why they were in my head, but for some reason whenever I let it slip my mind wanders back to the same scene.
In this scene I betray someone. I don't know who he is, and his face changes every time I go back there. His horror struck expression doesn't though.

We can be in different places, though the most common is a dark stage. There are three of us, standing in a triangle; me and two boys. There seems to have been a standoff and it appears we have won. Two on one, we have the other boy cornered. But then he smiles and I turn.

I tell the boy I'm sorry, using his name, which also changes a lot. Jed, Brian, Arthur, doesn't matter. This part's always the same; the apology.
I don't mean it. In this particular situation, I show no remorse nor mercy. Sometimes it's a gun at his head, others a long blade to the throat. Either way the boy I once helped now has a lethal weapon pointed at him.

I've never seen what happens next save once, when I actually fired a shot. Time slowed down and I saw him being blasted off his feet. We were at school in that version. I think it's the fact now I've seen it so many times I distract my mind by asking myself why I'm even watching this happen.
And every time it draws a blank. I haven't seen this moment in any recent TV, films or books. I certainly don't wish I could shoot anyone and I usually know in my head (in my head o_O) that the real person I should be shooting is the boy with the sudden smile who we appeared to overpower.

But it won't go away. Truth be told it's just plain WEIRD... but what more do you expect of me?

From Vigilantes To Creators To... Disney

"The accumulation of their filth will foam up around their waists, and all the whores and politicians will look up as shout, 'SAVE US!' and I'll look down and whisper, 'no.'"

Can you blame him?
Whether you're a disgusted vigilante with no concept of moral greyness, a girl sitting at a computer wondering what to write or God Almighty Himself, you have to admit there is something wrong with our reception of those who help us.

In the graphic novel The Watchmen (from which the quote above is from) there is evidence of our non-existent gratitude to do-gooders. The fictional Keene Act passed in the book's year 1977 forbids any "costumed adventuring" from taking place independently (though two men who worked for the Government were conveniently excepted). All those people were doing were rescuing families from house fires, chasing muggers and rapists and occasionally taking bullets for innocents.
And though the message the above speaker left the makers of the Keene Act was pinned to the corpse of a multiple rapist ("NEVER!"), he was still chased by police for years before being brought down with all the force at their disposal.

Even Disney have touched upon our tendency to hate those who strive to help us. At the beginning of the Pixar film The Incredibles, we see how people suddenly decided they didn't need heroes anymore, and those who fought crime were forced to step down or have people make them. A message so strong as to puncture a children's film, however briefly, should be noticed more often as a major flaw of the human race.

I have no idea what the people responsible for these works believe. It could be they are noting the same similarities of the symbolism as other people, or that they truly didn't see the connection, but the foundations to this human behaviour seem to me to be rooted in religion. Well, there's a surprise; isn't everything?
In a world where political correctness has gone mad, where we have refrained from speaking of beliefs in case they "offend" somebody...
...in a world where we have dismissed God...
In short, we live in a time when we have told God to bugger off.
We can no longer read Bibles in schools, sing hymns where anyone but believers can hear them or (in some cases) wear crosses to work. We hesitate before admitting our beliefs... and we use the word "admitting" as we speak of them.

And then we have people (no names time, but if you've caught me in a ranting mood, you might know to whom I am referring) who, on hearing you are a Christian, turn around and say: "Well where was He on September the 11th, or July the 7th? Where was He when the first troops were sent into the Middle East? Where is He NOW?!"

And amongst things like "Screw you, bitch," I managed to finally say, "did you ever ask Him to do anything about all those things?"
"Of course not, I don't believe in Him."

If you don't believe in Him, how can you expect to see any results by Him?

Confessions Of A Teenage Insomniac

"You've made your bed, so sleep in it..."

Yeah, I bloody wish.

So, here I am, bright eyed and bushy tailed after my first insomnia-related all-nighter: went to bed at 12, gave up and got up at 6:30. Not a wink of sleep between those hours.
It's been getting notably worse since the return from Slovenia; a sleeplessness (real word? Don't know) that used to get me, say, every other- or third- night has now been every singe day I go to bed. Usually it's just a few hours, I end up dead to the world anyway. Not last night.

So I'd been to my mum's friend's boyfriend's (still with me?) party. It wasn't the liveliest of dos and the worst thing I managed was being pressed to try a mouthful of flat Gin and Tonic (simply spontaneous, right?)

Cept that night I go to bed and lie awake for six and a half hours, occasionally breaking the boredom with a chapter of the phenomenal graphic novel The Watchmen (read it.)

However, it wasn't as fun as you might think. In fact it was pretty shit.

There comes a time when you realise, four hours into your reluctant all-nighter, that if you don't fall asleep now you will feel this way for the rest of the day ahead. Feel like what? you ask.
Like you are totally and blissfully asleep every time your eyes shut to blink. Then, as they open again, you're utterly and frustratingly wide awake.

Another terrible stage is when your brain splits. Not literally of course, although by this time of the night you're doing very well not to have a headache of some kind. But I do not know whether it's a human reaction to the solitude, or simply proof that I personally am insane. However, the brain starts talking back to itself.
"Don't be soft," part of your mind says. "You're obviously not tired or you'd be asleep. Logical, no?"
"But I AM tired," another bit of your brain argues. "If you'd just shut up, maybe we'd get some rest."
A third part of your consciousness is wondering vaguely how this is even possible; the brain is one organ designed to control, help (and hinder) it's host body. It shouldn't be sniping at itself and referring to itself in the first person.
A still further bit of the mind is ignoring the other three all together, caught up in a desperate personal struggle to dispel the highly annoying (and insanely catchy) voice of the lead singer of the All American Rejects from looping over and over to only it's tortured ears... while simultaneously wondering if said singer is really Kermit the frog (listen to Her Name Rhymes With Mindy, then listen to the green Muppet’s voice: IDENTICAL).

Later on in the night/morning, you don't know whether it's from the hours and hours you have spend staring into darkness, or the fact the sky is finally beginning to lighten, but forms of you familiar things start to take shape. Then, every time you blink, as well as being ridiculously disappointed when your eyes open, you are somehow always surprised that the room you are in is lighter than the inside of your eyelids.

You think about a lot of things in a tiny amount of time when you're in the same place for hours at a time. A couple of the things flashing through my mind were:
● My Year 11 Media Project ● The difference of the words Glamour and Glamorous ● The fact the Cullen's aren't actually real vampires ● The fact I really need to post a blog soon ● What the bloody hell time is it? ● Oh, only five minutes past the last time I checked ●