Being Random

Chilling on the beach~

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 13:44:50 GMT

Wow ... it's been just slightly more then a month since my last post; I must be getting sloppy! But then again, I have good reason: I've been quite literally buried under this vast sea of information that I have successfully bombarded my brain with. Ah ... it's that time of the year again, boys and girls: End-Of-Year Examinations.

<shudder>

Actually, that might be a slight bit dramatic. This semester actually went quite well to be honest, though I think maybe a slight touch too fast. The creative writing class is most definitely a highlight for me, and paired with the film analysis class last semester, I'm thinking this is probably going to be the best year in Auckland Uni for me. But, alas, wielding the power of procrastination in my hand, I've ... err ... pretty much left everything to read/see/watch/study for until pretty much the last minute. But hey, what's a guy to do when he's having fun cracking childish jokes in a creative writing tutorial that is advocating the consumption of mind-altering materials as 'radical' writing revision techniques?

And no, I'm totally serious. We actually suggest that as 'option 1', and the tutor went: "Well .. uh ... ok ... hmm. Err ... even though the university isn't really 'advocating' you to do so, I'd think it'd be a worthwhile exercise to undertake just to see the effects ... " <snicker> Yea right! Trust me when I say my tutorials are a lot more fun than other people's. Still, that isn't much of an excuse to not study. Therefore, it led to me quite literally leading a monotonous geekish existence, etched out in the form of empty takeaway food boxes and copious amounts of empty Smirnoff bottles. Oh, and a computer that hasn't been turned off for the last 2 weeks, at all.

Add to that movie-watching-marathons (they were prescribed 'texts'), blood-shot eyes, and a now found appreciation for the true scholars out there, I am both quite confident, and quite safe to say that I have survived the experience, and came out the other side relatively unharmed. Well, besides the sort of 'callous bruise' that's on my right middle finger. I should reveal that I have a fairly bad habit of gripping my pen too hard, especially when I'm squeezing in a short-essay in 20 minutes, literally, and indeed I have damaged my finger. It's kind'a deformed, to be honest, and it freaks me out slightly. But, nonetheless, I finished on Wednesday past, what with the film paper being completely uneventful although slightly worrying, considering I had to bullshit my way through at least 1/2 of the paper. Still, I have great hopes for my marks, since I think I'm a pretty good bullshitter.

Anyhow, tomorrow ... nay, today I will be heading off to Tawharanui, which for those non-NZers is a regional park within the greater Auckland region, and going there to do some camping, relaxing, and most importantly: drinking. I shall inebriate myself into a state of blissful happiness, to celebrate the end of university for the year along with some of my good friends. That sounded so cheesy, but I guess when it's almost 20 to 3 (am) and after 3 and 1/2 bottles of Smirnoff, I'm allowed to be cheesy. Meh.

Though with that said, I'm going to bed. I'm suppose to be getting picked up at 11:30~12ish, so I need to go hibernate. Yes, I am using the right terminology, though those who have never gone to high school with me won't understand it.

Hmm ... and I need to find my togs too ...

1987

Mon, 08 Oct 2007 02:52:46 GMT

Here I am. 20 years old. Officially. Finally.

Twenty years ago this day I heaved myself upon this shameless world and with smack to the arse, begun to populate and let notice my existence to the rest of humanity. It's somehow comforting to know that these days I talk less and listen more; that I'm more willing to accommodate the thoughts and ideals of others, and more willing to suppress my own inadequate ramblings. It's an improvement, I'm sure.

Yet, in all this time, I have yet to grow none the wiser the intricacies of this world; the plight of the human conciousness, or the simple matter of life and death. The more I read, and the more knowledge I gain the more I realize how little do I truly know. Thankfully, there has been one thing made clear to me: there is never an end to what we gain, and never an ending to what we begin.

This sounds all very philosophical and all, but I do have to confess this is all rubbish; junk that is quite literally pouring out of mind, through my fingers and onto the keyboard as I sit in the middle of the university common room amongst a whole heap of other students. I'm staring out the massive windows to look up and see strangers; randoms that walk past quickly, slowly, skipping, drinking, eating. Most of them I will never see again in this lifetime. But all these revelations are all to do with quite a simple matter - how death affects the people involved and surrounding the person who has died.

It is ironic, is it not, that on this day I'm suppose to be celebrating the creation of my life, when I came to this world that I am instead talking about death? Yet think carefully, as in a weird twist of dark comedy, one realizes that the celebration of a birthday is in-fact the celebration instead of one's death day. As each year passes, I age, and eventually, I will die. And it is through this sudden revelation to death and life do I suddenly see that everything in this world is relative; my moods and my experiences may make me the person I am, yet it should not dictate me to the point of exhaustion, whether it be mental or physical. I say this with a new-found life experience: friends.

I will be blunt - I have never been good at making friends. When I was younger, I was much of an introvert; years of being conditioned into a bookworm by way of being a social outcast means that I am not good with dealing with others. It takes time to get to know me, and it takes a lot of time for me to accept others. As a non- English-speaking New Zealander, I have always been handed the sharp end of the stick, and my natural fear of backstabbers and excessive paranoia of the intent of others have not only fueled, but also aroused great hatred.

Coincidentally, this semester at university I have manage to gather around myself a remarkable group of dear friends, the likes of which I have not had the possibilities of enjoying before. Some are quirky, some are strange, some are musical, another an artist. Yet what remains is the fact they like me, of their own volition, supposed qualities that even I have yet to discover myself.

There remains a lot to be said, but it nonetheless remains true that my previous notion of the world being populated by apathy and sin is unjustified - there is plenty of good people out there, I just have to find ones that fit to me. And indeed, this brings me back to the point made previous - the more I learn, the more I realize how little I know. The death of a friend's friend has pushed my buttons even more, as I observe the profound effect it had on my friend, and even more so the profound effect it had on me. Even before learning of the death itself, my friend turned to me and said - "you know that I love you, right?". It not only took me by surprise, but also a realization of how much I mean to another outside of immediate family. The relationship is strong enough for that statement, and I am both honored, and humbled.

To this end, though I have always held the notion previously to my God, I shall repeat it on this post as a declaration. It is a quote, something not only insightful but also inspiring, and it is one that I hold very close to my existence.

"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'." ~Erma Bombeck

Free Writing

Tue, 28 Aug 2007 02:47:26 GMT

More random stuffs ...

======

Of peace, and happiness - when one's world is composed of grief and strife, all one should do is laugh. Really? yes. Something.

Un-intentioned, unknown, chilling and sadistic pleasures courses through the veins of the unwilling, subject only to the grip of life. What is it, where is it, who is it? Questions upon myriads of questions of unsolvable labyrinths which lie deep deep in the dark hearts of men. Tainted, of what once was, of what is, and of what will be, if nothing is done. May God forgive and have mercy.

Jokes; hilarity ensues, of ignorant and unencumbered minds that feels no shame nor dishonor. My entertainment: laughs, shits and giggles in the highest forms. My days need not to be filled with empty boring normality. Excitement comes, with a mask of evil and wild unkempt form, flailing arms and keen with sadism, twisted, the joker-like smile. 'Slay the beast', they cry, with thousand pointed blades, aimed at its head and heart. With words our great bastard swords!

Gah! Haha ... amusement at its finest!? Awesome, my goodness, awesome! There is nothing better than watching the deluded delude themselves. There is nothing better.

I am. I am ...

Nothing.

12:08am and nothing to do

Thu, 16 Aug 2007 12:26:09 GMT

Hmm ...

Been a while since I last updated this thing, considering the fact that everything I've written or thought of writing between the last post and now are either a) too personal, or b) too boring. I'm a boring guy, unfortunately. It's the story of my life to have nothing exciting ever happen, beyond the occasional "ooh" and "ahh" that comes along with being a (part-time) cynic that likes to take the piss out of everything, and everyone. Meh.

Of course, updating now doesn't really mean either that I have anything relevant to say, but much more the simple fact that I feel obliged to update this space considering the last couple of posts I got some wonderful responses from readers across the other side of the big, big ocean - which puts quite a spin on things, I must say. Like I had said to a poster, I never realized that anyone would ever read my writing, as to me it's completely incompetent and utter shite. But then again, that's just being melodramatic.

Now, on to recent events ... err, pause that thought ... recent hellish events, rather. As the story goes, I was suppose to have moved out of my place and into a wonderful apartment in the city, with it being all pretty and sparkly. Alas, my best mate, who was also suppose to turn into my flatmate, ditched me at the last second. Bastard.

Anyhow, in the interim, mom had decided that because I was going to move out, she'll go back to Taiwan to be with dad, and our place will be rented out to a family friend and her kid. But, I never left because I can't find neither a second flatmate, nor a flat that suited me. Just so you know, I have high expectations. Which is bad for flatting. (<--- Understatment).

I digress. In the end, everything happened as they should have, except with me not having moved out, which then thus meant that I have to share my place with our family friend and her kid, which my friends and I have officially nicknamed: EBOC. And yes, it does mean something - energizer bunny on crack. Which is exactly what he is, of course, but I have yet to raise my manly balls and tell that to his face, 'cause he's a spoiled little brat that likes to throw fits. And I can assure you, when he throws a fit, it feels like the house is tearing it self apart.

I want to shoot him. Rubber bullets though, honest!

But yes, that's not much fun. So, that was that. I'm not even going to talk about the other horrendous things that have happened, as I have neither the courage, nor the stomach. Still very, very sad.

Okay, that just sounded like Bridget Jones and her bloody diary, which is not how I talk, by the way. I think I'm not making too much sense anymore, since I seem to be blubbering. Two shots of 40% rum would do that to you, I'd think.

I'm going to bed.

<sigh>

Prison

Sun, 29 Jul 2007 07:57:11 GMT

This was a writing exercise that I did for my Creative Writing class. Earlier in the day, I had gone to the gym and worked myself pretty hard, and my arms were hurting like shite by the time the tutorial rolled 'round. We were asked to do free writing, without thought, and I just focused on the pain in my arms and let my hand wonder. Putting it on here is the first time I've seen this piece of writing as well, after having written it ... scary thought, huh!

===================================

    My arm's sore. Dead-weights. It seems like my normal physical prowess has all but entirely left me - for I can still feel tingles as I exert. At the very least, I can pick up my pen.

    The weariness isn't new, no. It is something that has been apart of me for many a long ages. It is of the past, of things undone and unsaid. It is of the present, of the thoughts made and words written. But, it seems, it is not of the future. Strange though, as this weariness is not, for most certainly I will be weary, burdened, driven like a mere slave in the coming.

    Yet, I am no slave, except to myself. I am no taskmaster either, except to my will. So then, where did the dead-weights arise? It cannot be of physical weakness, for my Lord has made me strong.

    No. It is not of this world. Something far deeper, far darker than any mortal imagery. Emotions, thoughts, sounds - they all bind me to it, yet I am unawares. Long in this dungeon of fatigue have I sat, but I know neither day nor hour. It is but a thing, that runs along my veins and into my heart. I cannot close my fists; my flesh shudders with effort. For I am weary ...

On the bus ...

Wed, 18 Jul 2007 09:56:42 GMT

Hoots ... honks ... beeps.

Horns of various kinds playing tag with each other, making a ruckus symphony that is joined by the rumbling hum of the old bus engine. The passengers are silent. Yet, it is not one filled with awkwardness, nor a downtrodden and sinking silence; much rather a fragile but tranquil peace; the silence un-tells of long days working, hours gone for people in pursuit of frivolities. Or maybe not, as students get on, full from a day's worth of knowledge.

A turn, a screech, stop. Passengers get on. Faceless, all of them, except for one. Her laugh gay, face lit, and eyes sparkling. A soft, silky voice emerges, as she speaks into her cellphone, carrying muted voices that float pass my head, bouncing on the back wall. The call is finished, and she sits. Fully absorbed into looking out the bus window, she becomes faceless, just like the others. She fades.

Next stop. More passengers ... yet somehow no longer faceless. Some are bedraggled, some are contemplative, and some are unkempt. A striking blond steps up, hair pulled back and tied. She stares at me writing, questioning with curiosity written all over her face. What am I writing? What am I seeing? What, am I dreaming?

She sits beside me, book in hand, attention shifted. No longer rapt with my mundane, illiterate hand. She sighs. A heavy weight shifts, sliding down her shoulders. A glorious smile lightens her face, first at the book, than me, than returns to the book. I smile in return, unsure if it was caught. I peek. A love story - though the words are unfamiliar, a love story nonetheless.

I drift. I dream. The steady rumble of the bus engine lulls me, the lids of my eyes are heavy, and I struggle as I loose my grasp on my mind. The soft perfume from her, the steady hum of the engine, the ever-shifting motion. Peaceful silence. I drift. I dream.

Memory Defining Reality (re-upload)

Sun, 08 Jul 2007 03:46:09 GMT

Right, as I promised, the "proper" edition of the assignment that I had worked on last semester. Had to take it off due to the University having not have had it go through the plagiarism system, and I almost got caught out :p

My marks are in, so here it is, once again:

================================

The films ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ and ‘Memento’, by Charlie Kaufman and Christopher Nolan respectively, deal with memory or more specifically, the loss of memory. The films hypothesize that when our memories have been taken away from us such as in ‘Eternal Sunshine’, or we are unable to make new memories as in ‘Memento’, there is a part of us that has been destroyed, along with our ability to define the line between fantasy and reality. The definition of memory itself in the cognitive neurosciences memory is stated “…to be the psychological function most closely linked with one’s human uniqueness…they capture events in the world as personal experiences.”[1] The statement can be read as memory being the one thing that defines us and in-turn defining our reality. As a re-constructive mechanism memory allows the past to become a part of the present, and the experiences that we have had are ingrained into our future, thus defining our perception of this world and the things around us. When we have lost our past, or unable to make a new past and stuck in an ever-perpetual present, our future is denied and we are no longer able to associate to what is truthful, and what is not. Thus, when our memories are taken away from us the world as we know it ceases to exist and we are left with either a twisted and degraded version of it or nothingness, as depicted in ‘Eternal Sunshine’ and ‘Memento’.

‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ tells of the romance between two lovers, Joel and Clementine, and their subsequent fall-out, and its effect upon Joel. Steven Johnson writes them as “…two star-crossed lovers whose stars have gotten so crossed that they decide to erase their memories of each other, using the services of a company called Lacuna Inc.”[2] The centre of the film (the memory deletion) revolves around Joel’s memories of his life with Clementine slowly being erased, and his in-ability to exist outside of some sort of mental emptiness after the procedure. The very first scenes of the film are near the “ending” of the timeline, after Joel has already removed the memory of Clementine and the better part of the last two years. It includes a narrative voice-over that seems as empty as the tone that he narrates in, carrying hints of his erased memories. “I ditched work today. Took a train out to Montauk,” he says in a flat, emotionless voice, “I don’t know why.” As Jason Sperb observes, Joel is unable to understand the “why” to everything, whether it be the emptiness that he feels, or things that he does.[3] Joel’s in-ability to understand is a result of his memory being deleted. Clementine, once the dominant element of his life for the last two years, is gone. Nothing remains of her (or so it seems), and he has little to no depth or substance to go on. His past is no longer recallable by his present, and thus his existence as a person is denied, which means that he can no longer define reality.

The majority of the film itself is actually grounded in what we can define as fantasy, as Joel struggles to salvage his memories of Clementine as his reaction towards the deletion procedure slowly changes over time. He eventually realizes that he does not want his memories deleted, or rather both his love for her and his notion of self. He realizes that there is a need for a past that although, un-claimable and un-shape-able, is also something that cannot and should not be taken from his existence, as Sperb states.[4] He tries to find Clementine, and when he does, tries to run away and hide her so that she can’t be taken away. This game of cat-and-mouse is futile, as he eventually realizes that she will fade to the procedure. Joel’s eventual acceptance of the loss of Clementine and the subsequent fading of the memory leads directly to the opening scene. Reality is no longer real, as even although those memories can be seen as fantasy, they no longer exist and cannot define what is truthful anymore. Joel’s perception is no longer objective – he cannot forcibly attain a truthful reading of his life and of his reality – instead his perception now is subjective to the things around him, whether they may seem real or not.

Yet according to Fredrika Shulman, memories are affected by the objects that they are associated with, as lieux de mémoire (memorial sites); through the preserving of these items can then memory be recollected regardless of temporal discourses.[5] The definition of reality is based upon these objects that remind ourselves of what we can remember, just as Dr. Howard Merzwiak gives Joel explicit instructions to remove everything he has that is associated with Clementine. They act as “memory markers”, as Merzwiak states – items of value that act as “…an emotional core to each of our memories.” As a result, when through a twist of fate both Joel and Clementine are informed that they use to be lovers and receive back all the items that they had taken to be disposed of by Lacuna Inc, they are almost instantly reminded of the connotations contained in the items themselves. Although they are unable to associate memories of words and images toward these items, they are nonetheless able to recognize emotions and the items as artifacts that transmit the past, even though it is a past they no longer know. So in a way, while our sense of reality may be lost through the removal of our past, so too is it regained through either making new memories or regaining items associated with the past that is erased. As Sperb argues “…the future – as in end of ‘Eternal Sunshine’ – becomes the past anyway.” He sees that it is not a “definitive linear history” that guides our understanding, but much rather that the “…temporal boundaries will simply reconstruct themselves in the absence of the possibility of a preserved past.”[6]

On the other hand, “Memento” deals with the ever-perpetual present. The protagonist, Leonard Shelby, suffers a peculiar form of anterograde amnesia in which he is unable to form new memories after a blow to the head. Two men had broken into his home and raped and murdered his wife; Leonard shot one intruder but the other attacked him from behind. His last permanent memory was of his wife dying on the bathroom floor. The entire film revolves around Leonard’s inability to form new memories – he is spatially and temporally dislocated and unable to relocate himself, stuck in a forever “now” moment, as though time goes on without him. His notion of “reality” is thus forever stuck at the moment of his wife’s death; although he is able to function semi-normally he lives in little pockets of reality – a few hours here, a few there. Yet, as the film goes on it is revealed to us that in actually fact his reality are all just self-contained fantasy narratives, manipulated by others around him due to his inability to form a coherent linear structure of the world.

Leonard is in a constant state of confusion and altered reality; he is unable to associate with anything around him, as shown in the first scenes of Leonard with him waking up in a non-descript black and white motel room. Leonard then tracks through the motions of the voiceover chronologically. Leonard: “So where are you? You’re in some motel room. You just, you just wake up and you’re in […] in a motel room. There’s the key. It feels like, maybe, it’s just the first time you’ve been there, but perhaps, you’ve been there for a week, three months. It’s kinda hard to say. I don’t know. It’s just an anonymous room.” Leonard’s inability to graft new memories into his mind forces him to graft it on to his body – an “…overlaid topography of tattoos, mnemonic traces carved and inked in Leonard’s flesh…”[7], as well as having numerous Polaroid’s dotted around of people and things as he progresses in his quest of vengeance. Furthermore, because of his inability to recall recent experiences it means that he misses the impact of traumatic events upon reality. As such, William G. Little critiques him as “…a character wracked by disappointment.”[8] All these elements mean that Leonard is unable to identify the world in a post-traumatic view; because of his inability to remember he is constantly forced to go through the pain of his wife’s passing, each time as if it had just happened although he might be months down the time-stream. His identity is limited to what he was pre-accident and his notion of truth and reality is focused on the very present. This presents a problem, as two characters that revolve around him, Ted and Natalie, are shown to manipulate him into doing certain things and him being absolutely unaware. His definition of reality is no longer his, but rather what other people tell him and the scatterings of notes that he gives himself.

This holds true even to the audience, as we are being constantly put under pressure to remember what happens before, as the film is edited in a regressive format. We are constantly sent through “before” sequences that “…swipes the board of the game and demands yet another futile strategy of sense and memory.”[9] In essence, we as the audiences are subjected to being Leonard; we are only ever allowed the knowledge of “now” – broken narratives that contradict the one before, which contradicted the one before that. We, just as Leonard is, are subjected to a constant revising of the present, of reality and what we perceive to be the real truth. Yet at the very end of the film, which is supposedly the earliest point in the time-stream, is of Leonard and Ted having an argument. Ted tells Leonard that he had already looked, found and killed the “John G.” that injured him and killed his wife. Ted shows Leonard a Polaroid of him after the murder, and then accuses him of “…having become a killer, of having begun to like to kill people, and even of needing to kill in order to give his life meaning.”[10] It seems that what both Leonard and the audiences have perceived as truth is not real, and in-turn our defined reality is shattered. The lack of memory of the “before” means that everything that we have held to be truthful so far is turned into fantasy, a narrative that should not have existed in the first place. As Clarke states, “…with the continual juxtaposition of contrary images, the aporias of truth and falsity in the present become more and more urgently revealed.”[11]

Because we are forced to adapt to Leonard’s view, we are then drawn in to his world where truthful definitions are made, in reality, non truthful. Indeed, if everything that we have held to be “true” and “real” has been presented as false, than what about Leonard himself? Is his story of his wife and his amnesia truthful and a truthful definition of reality, or is it all a part of a made-up fantasy by Leonard himself? As we have not experienced the before and the after, merely the ever-perpetual present, we have no memories of these events. Thus, we are unable to form coherent judgement upon this matter, and we can gain no clear definition of reality and a truthful modal propriety.

Reality, as observed by viewing both Joel and Leonard, is really a sense of self and character being reflected on to the world as we dictate. It is a concept, which albeit vague, is something that centres itself on one’s notion of the world as one perceives it, through the experiences they have had that influenced and shaped them in the past. It is a notion of relativity and deduction: when something is not one thing, than what we are left with is its absolute definition. As such, our experiences, or memories to be more exact, shape our perception, our notion of self and the relation to the world around us. When our experiences and memories, of which that define “us” of whom and what we are, are deleted, lost or disabled than our “reality” is altered and is thus no longer true. While Joel and Leonard suffer from different forms of memory deprivation, both remain the same in that they no longer exist in a reality defined by “truthful” values. What they are left with are empty realities that are not grounded and unacceptable, as they can no longer decide what reality is and what fantasy is. Both characters no longer have a reference point for their realities. Joel cannot remember his past, and so his present is also blank, just as his future will be, while Leonard cannot form new memories, and so is stuck in a time-less state in which his definition of “reality” is constantly effected by those around him, and the “Leonard” of a very distant past. For both men, reality is now either nothing, or perverted. Yet luckily for Joel, he might still have a chance to make a new reality.

Bibliography

Bianco, Jamie Skye. “Techno-Cinema”. Comparative Literature Studies 41.3 (2004), 377-403.

Clarke, Melissa. “The Space-Time Image: The Case of Bergson, Deleuze, and Memento”. The Journal of Speculative Philosophy 16.3 (2002) 167-181

Conway, Martin A., Campbell, Ruth and Gathercole, Susan E. “Introduction: Case Studies in the Neuropsychology of Memory.” Broken Memories: Case Studies in Memory Impairment. Ed. Campbell, Ruth and Conway, Martin A. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers Ltd, 1995. XVII.

Gondry, Michael (dir.) and Kaufman, Charlie. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. New York: Focus Features, 2004.

Little, William G. “Surviving Memento.” Narrative 13.1 (2005) 67-83

Nolan, Christopher, director and screenwriter. Memento. New York: Newmarket Films, 2000.

Schulman, Fredrika. “The Objects of Memory: Collecting Eternal Sunshine.” Philaments 5 (2004). 3^rd April, 2007 <http://www.arts.usyd.edu.au/publications/philament/issue5_Critique_Shulman.htm>

Sperb, Jason. “Internal Sunshine: Illuminating Being-Memory in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”. Kritikos vol. 2 (2005). 3^rd April, 2007 <http://garnet.acns.fsu.edu/~nr03/Internal%20Sunshine.htm>

Steven, Johnson. “The Science of Eternal Sunshine”. Slate Magazine, 22/03/04. 3^rd April, 2007 <http://slate.msn.com/id/2097502>

[1] Conway, Campbell and Gathercole, ¶ 1

[2] Johnson, ¶ 1

[3] Sperb, ¶ 4

[4] Sperb, ¶ 6

[5] Shulman, ¶ 1

[6] Sperb, ¶ 11

[7] Bianco, 383

[8] Little, 72

[9] Bianco, 385

[10] Clarke, 174

[11] Clarke, 175-176

Update!!

Sat, 16 Jun 2007 11:56:35 GMT

Life, is a most hectic place.

I say that with the utmost conviction, as I quite literally plow through the mountain piles of notes, readings, secondary resources, and more notes. Indeed, welcome to Exam Month!

I've been quite busy since the my night out, which shockingly, is a fortnight ago. I haven't had the time, energy or even the attention span to last longer than 5 minutes out of my door; along with the dramatic sudden drop in temperature in the last two days, I have had to hunkered down before my desk and read. And read. Quite happily though to be honest, seeing as at the end of all these readings is a good three week break , of which I will be busy house hunting. I will be moving out. I need to be moving out. Heaven forbid a little 12 year old ADHD tyke that rampages through the house as I try to sleep in 'til 10.

Bad news: earlier this week was my second exam, with the first one on Thursday last week. They were alright, and most certainly went better than I had expected, but it got a bit painful towards the end of the second exam as I scribbled furiously, trying with my very hardest to fit numerous words on to a page. With a minute to go, no less. Alas, my hand became arthritic and I was unable to relax it by my own volition, since I had squeezed my pen too hard. Never-mind breaking the pen, I was going to be breaking my own fingers! There's even a stub near the tip of my middle finger where the skin is actually harder than the bottom of my foot. Dear God have mercy!! T.T

Good news: today was quite nice, as I took a long break eating - yes - eating! Mum had invited a whole bunch of people around and we had Chinese Hotpot, which is basically platters filled with ingredients of almost any kind you'd like, and you basically chuck it into a big pot of boiling water, wait a couple minutes, and take out. Traditionally, there are various skin-thin meats, tofu, veges, meatballs (of various kind), prawns, tempura, and rice noodles. There are also a series of sauces you mix together to add flavor such as peanut sauce, chilli satay, chilli oil, vinegar, soy sauce along with diced onions and various seasonings. Oh food, glorious food! Was at one point too full to stand. Heh. ^_^

Anyhow, that's pretty much it. I've still got an exam on the coming Tuesday and Friday, and they're the hardest out of all my courses. And the "all" includes pretty much every single course I've taken so far. Hip-pip hooray.

Sleep beckons, and I'm going to go play sexcapades with Morpheus' daughter. Read up on your Greek Myths, if you can't understand that.

"A Night at the Movies"

Sun, 03 Jun 2007 03:27:47 GMT

Well, last night was certainly a very brilliant event, in which I had the chance to go and see the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra (APO) play at the Aotea Centre. Having had a lot of fun all day long killing monsters, the undead, and a golden giantress with my fellow Tranq-ies, I was quite ready for a nice evening listening to some very, very good orchestral music.

I had been given the chance to go to the program through a friend of mine, who is a part of the New Zealand chapter of a Star Wars club. They had been roped into giving out flyers on Queen St. for the event, and were promised free tickets. My friend was talking about it with me, and seeing my over-exhuberant excitement, tried to get me a free ticket as well. Alas, she not only succeeded, but it was also with her and her family in the premier seats!! So basically I got up, close and personal to the whole orchestra :D

Our MC, and soloist (mezzo-soprano) was an absolutely astounding show-woman, and wooed the crowd into a right ruckus, what with her downright blatant drooling dialogue aimed at the male stars, especially focusing on good ol' Sean Connery, Rodger Moore and a few others. Innuendo driven indeed! But, what was the best about her performance was the renditions of Goldfinger, Diamonds are Forever, and Nobody does it better for the James Bond 007 portions of the evening. Absolutely astounding vocalist, especially the last notes at the very end of Nobody.

The show began with an overture of North by NorthWest, prelude from Vertigo, and the Psycho suite; all bloody famous films of Alfred Hitchcock - definitive filmmaker of Western cinema! This was followed by the La Strada Suite, by French composer Rota. Beautiful and haunting, the music was a perfect reflection of the narrative, as well as that of the title - "The Road". The theme from 007 along with the 3 major sung songs, and the first half ended with the Mission Impossible Theme.

The second half begin with Hedwig's Theme from Harry Potter, and than a Gladiator Suite. Next was the Spiderman Suite, with excerpts from even the very original Spiderman song! The night's last official piece was a 17minute rendition of the Star Wars Suite, with excerpts from the opening themes of all 3 of the original, the love theme, the Emperial theme, as well as the ROTJ theme. I almost got a little emotional when they played the ROTJ theme, as the music surrounded the entire auditorium and you could literally feel the music vibrate against your bones. I was living in Paradise, removed far from my physical self. The night ended with an encore performance of the Raiders of the Lost Ark theme, which was also astounding.

Like I said, last night was the best night I had ever had, in a very very long while. The last time I got to dress up and go to a good orchestral concert was a few years ago, since the APO hasn't really put on any really good shows in-between. Hopefully, like my friend had told me of the possibility of it becoming a yearly occurance, I'll have the pleasure of hearing all this lovely music again next year!!

Deleted Essay

Mon, 28 May 2007 03:12:48 GMT

I just realised that I had to delete the previous post, due to plagiarism issues that might pop up.

I'll have the final copy of it up again in a couple weeks time, since that's how long it'll take for the authentication system for UoA to check it through. Unfortunately. :P

But yea....really shouldn't have uploaded that essay *before* I handed it in to my course admins. heh...

Still Alive and Kicking!

Fri, 04 May 2007 22:55:48 GMT

Yes, I know, I'm an absolute sleaze when it comes to updating my blog. It was exactly the same when I was still semi-active on my LiveSpace blog. I think I had a what...6 month gap between post at one stage?? I dunno, maybe it's just my inherent "bleh" thing that regards blog writing as something to kill time with, and since I don't have a lot of time these days, might as well not. Or, it could be the other way round in that since I have had absolutely nothing of interest happen to me (I have a boring life, btw), there was nothing to post. Hmm....interesting....

Anyhow, mum's back from her holiday in Taiwan having spent 10 days in the bustle of "home", which isn't really home. Well, not for me at any rate, but that's beside the point. Now, what was I saying?? Yes, since she came back, she also brought back an arm load of stuff for me! I finally have a brand new piece of toy - a Gigabyte 8800 GTS GFX Card!! Awesome, aye?? Along with that there was also two RAM sticks that I had asked for, so now I've jacked my system up to 4GB of RAM plus that damn nice new card. Sorbsie, I told you I'd explain how I was getting 60fps :D (Yes, piccies are below).

Now, Chris had opted to "order" from me two little arm/mouse pad thingies, which are actually kind'a heavy. Since I'm the only child, mum and dad like to spoil me and give me pretty much anything/everything I ask (within reason, of course). So mum took out a few of her books and stuck in the two things instead...leaving me feeling really, really guilty. I had a small rant at Chris since they were for his work buddies and not even himself! Bleh...

Anyhow, that's about all that's happened in the last week, beside the fact that I've just recently been informed that I have 2 assignment drafts due next Friday, and 2 full assignments due the week after. I also have to complete a 400 word analysis on a music video. Bugga that.

The Weekend and Paintball Sunday

Sun, 22 Apr 2007 11:11:16 GMT

monday edit: I now have an official count - 16 large bruises that are clearly visible and have a ring of blood, and about 8 more that are just slightly raised bumps. That was this morning after a nice long hot shower. On a brighter note, I now look like I have 3 nipples.

==============================

Friday night I went over to Chris' place, having decided that home was slightly too cold and lonely to be all by myself. Fooled around playing CS: Source for a couple hours, then left his place having left my computer there. Next morning I got (quite literally) "shaken" awoke by my new bell alarm clock, which is extremely loud and extremely annoying. Emphasis on extremely. Anyhow, that was for a production meeting to do with my new project, which is the Caustic Production. I've been made the Director/Editor of the Documentary that is to follow in post-production, as well as having to provide short clips, stills and photos from rehearsals and various things happening for the caustic website. Actually, I still don't know the web address for the Caustic site. Weird.

Anyhow, several hours and meeting/interviews under my belt, I proceeded to plodd all the way back to Highbury, where I had parked my car. Thank god for idiotic parking wardens. Went to Chris' and found it completely deserted besides him, with his entire family gone up north for some fun, and his brother at his dad's place. I then proceeded to sit infront of my comp for the next several hours going over about an hour and a half's worth of tape captured by my camerawoman, and then grabbing stills from the clip as well as making a short 37sec thing for the website. Chris came home with me to have dinner since his fridge is completely clean and that I also had to feed my baby pup Matt. Went back to his place with my beautiful thick duvet and pillow. Bed at 2am and that was that.

Woke up early this morning at 7:30, got in Chris' car to drive to his work, where we picked a chick up named Gina (Chris' workmate) and then drove to Actions Paintball at Swanson. It was Corporate Challenge Weekend, and I had been drafted by Chris to come join his workmates to play. Except, problem was, not a single other business came. 10 signed up, 1 showed up (us!).

Now, the games themselves were absolutely fine and completely brilliant, but I absolutely have to complain that those newbies knew absolutely nothing about teamwork and what the hell they're suppose to do. For the first 1/2 hr, I got completely wasted. Now, in "Capture-The-Flag" mode, you're suppose to be able to count on your team-mates to move *up* with you when you do. Except, these newbies were too afraid, so I was the only one that moved up, and was then turned into target practice for Chris' side. Bastards.

Eventually we got better, but our team still lost overall. Still....it was all good fun, except for that my t-shirt is now completely ruined (a paintball pierced it and now there's a nice hole in the middle of the shirt), and the fact that I'm probably going to be walking funny tomorrow, considering I have well over a dozen bruises. The worst one was when I was sneaking up the side and one guy jumped out from behind a barricade, and effectively putting a stop on my advancement by shooting me in the balls. Trust me when I say it hurts. Piccies are below.

=Bruises=

5 Greatest Family Guy Clips

Tue, 17 Apr 2007 13:51:28 GMT

Can't put them in order of what's the best, but these 5 are my favorite ones :D

So Bored...

Thu, 12 Apr 2007 01:03:50 GMT

Oh dear lord am I bored out of my mind.

It's uni holidays, and I've got 2 weeks off...well, rather, a week and a half left off. I have practically absolutely nothing to do, and it's starting to give me mental problems. For goodness sake, I'm finding amusement from constantly repetitively killing myself in this game! I think I need to find myself a shrink.

On other fronts, I've gone ahead and hired a bike machine from a fitness centre, and it's to be delivered to my place tomorrow. I'm supppose to be fixing my health, but with my being about 20k's overweight with almost all of it on top and having had knee injuries, it's generally not a good idea for my to be trying to run around. PT dude said that I should do a combination of rowing/cycling, and/or go swimming. Swimming's out, since I'm not entirely sure the rest of this world (or the people in the club, at least) wants to see my flabby self. Even if I think I look at least moderately presentable in the buff. But then again, after seeing "300", I'm having severe masculinity problems.

I've managed to finally get myself involved with a stage production though, named "Caustic" that is going to be performed by the Stage 2 Productions at the Maidment Theatre. I haven't yet read the script, but it's suppose to be a very challenging piece of work that is supposedly going to be...erm...ethically ambiguous. God knows. I'm a part of the "behind-the-scenes" camera crew, working on snippets as an editor for the short clip that is suppose to be presenting the play, as well as the company. I think I'm also going to be getting a piece of the action with getting a job as a light techie for them. There's no pay, but I've been doing this thing without pay for ages anyhow, so no worries.

Anyhow...I'm currently sitting at my comp, with the time of 1pm. I woke up at 11, moped around until 12 before I came down stairs. In this short period of time, I have already run out of things to do. God forbid me going to do something drastic.

Oooh...someone loves me!! Just got invited to a party tomorrow (FRIDAY 13th!!!!) at Schooner Tavern!! hip-hip hooray!!

In the mean time, I'm just gon'na go now and repeatedly slam my head against a wall until I find something better to do. Choi~

Sat, 07 Apr 2007 12:49:36 GMT

Man...this world is *soo* PC...

http://www.atomfilms.com/film/consent.jsp

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oops....edited :p

Auckland Ranking Number 5!!

Thu, 05 Apr 2007 04:09:03 GMT

Muwahahahahahah!!!!

Aussie cities among world's best, but...

Sorry....but ha!! We beat you!!

====

"The Worldwide Quality of Living Survey, conducted by human resources consultancy firm Mercer, is based on an evaluation of 39 criteria contributing to the overall livability of each city.

Sydney ranks ninth on the list, ahead of Melbourne at 17, Perth at 21, Brisbane at 31 and Adelaide at 32.

In what may spark trans-Tasman envy, the New Zealand city of Auckland ranks as the fifth best city in the world, behind Zurich, Geneva, Vancouver and Vienna."

Critique of Music

Thu, 05 Apr 2007 03:46:36 GMT

So, just did a 1k word assignment in less than 4 hours for an English class. It wasn't hard, but just so completely tedious it ain't funny. sigh.

Anyhow...here it is, but you'll have to read the articles that I've referenced and analyzed first to be able to understand what the fuck I'm talking about. If you can find them, that is.

...

I think I've run out of stuff to say, since I'm starting to post my fucking assignment here. Boo me.

=======

Kelefa Sanneh’s article ‘Getting’ Paid’ talks about Jay-Z and the ‘corporate rap’ industry and its affect on music industry, supporting ‘corporate rap’. Sanneh’s argument of support base itself up on his experiences interacting with Jay-Z, citing his upbringing, personal views, and experiences in creating his own record company.

The notion of corporate rap stems from that of ‘corporate rock’, in which old classic grass-root rock musicians were being replaced by rock bands/singers that were supported not by personally written songs and playing their own guitars but instead rather by “…checkbook-chasing superproducers, its audience-obsessed executives and its cred-hungry performers…”[1] which is entirely true of the current day industry and culture of hip-hop and rap music. Constantly is this idea of money and wealth reinforced through the plethora of music videos depicting massive amounts of “bling-bling”, semi-naked women, luxury yachts and seas of green Benjamin Franklins’. Sanneh supports this notion of corporate rap in that “…in hip-hop success is a form of validation – a rapper’s riches are proof that he’s good at what he does.”[2]

Julie Burchill’s article “2 Become 1” states that the Beckhams are probably the most iconic symbol of the rags-turned-riches story. Both started out in a lower tier of the social hierarchy and eventually climbing to a royalty status, carrying an air of regality that even surpasses that of the proper, legal members of the royal household. This entire notion could be compared to that of the world of hip-hop and rap artists, in which theirs are entire rags-to-riches world eventually garnering them luxurious prestiges of wealth and fame. The world of these artists are entirely brought about by their embrace of the “corporate rap” world, consistently peddling their products like lucrative businessmen through music videos and creating an imaginary world of beautiful women, luxury living places and the idea of the “gangster”.

It could be said that why in one sense the industry is so popular towards the white male audience is its notion of brotherhood camaraderie and the blood-pumping world of sex and violence as something that actually exists, most definitely viewable by people who have absolutely no affiliation with said world. As America is the stereotypical example of capitalism and consumerism, people have eventually grown apart and they no longer feel ‘in touch’ with the people around them. The idea of the ‘gangster family’ made infamous by “The Godfather” film series has now evolved, with the catalyst being that of the rap artist. As such, the audience is so jaded and anti-corporation because we are jealous, just as the critics of the Beckham’s are jealous of their achievements, as stated by Burchill.

By using Jay-Z as his case study, Sanneh tells us of the rise to prominence of corporate rap. As a ‘word-smith’, his lyrics were considered so highly sophisticated that one had to be really into rap music to be able to properly understand it. As a result, no one dared to sign him and Jay-Z had to resort to creating his own record company to peddle out his music. As his music career grew, so did his lyrics to appeal to the mass audience who “…buy hip-hop for the beats, not the words.”[3] Jay-Z’s own comparison of his ‘progression’ to Michael Jordan’s basketball career is although slightly inaccurate but nonetheless truthful. In his early days Jordan played as a central star, flaunting his skills yet garnering no prizes. During his reign in the Chicago Bulls, he was a part of a team, doing no more than his job and winning him consecutive championships. Corporate rap is good, in that it makes you successful, bringing you fame, wealth, prestige; at the same time it is also bad as it quite possibly murders your talent and forces you to adhere to what the crowd wants, and not what you can give.

The style of approach by Sanneh is the same of that of Burchill’s – a storybook rhetoric that appeals to supposed ‘common sense’ and the human heart. By threading personal opinion along with the opinion of Jay-Z himself, as well as his upbringing and eventual rise to success, Sanneh lures his readers in by constructing the article as a narrative rather than a critique of corporate rap. Sanneh emphasis the appeal of corporate rap by producing evidence that is directly linked with a specific subject and its experiences; it is a powerful rhetoric style that allows the reader to sink into the world of Jay-Z and rap artists, giving them access to the idea of an ‘insider’s look’ towards the rap industry and the people that fills it.

Heath and Potter’s article “I hate myself and want to buy” is based on a structurally sound and logical style, typical to that of an academic analysis thesis. Using a mixed mode of description and exposition, the entire article appeals to logics, providing support from cultural theorists, Marxism, as well as economy analysts – something that is nonexistent in Sanneh’s article, which bases itself on one man’s life. Although the appeal of corporate rap as suggested by Sanneh’s style is theoretically sound, the examples and experiences that he provides contains little to no logical reasoning regarding simple artistic aesthetics concerning musical theory. Rap, no matter what certain professionals may try to make it out to be, is still a form of music. It adheres to certain patterns of progression, beat and cadence and chord and tonal progression. If Sanneh is able to provide a detailed analysis of the technical musical theory of rap music, than it is obvious for the reader to be able to understand that no matter how much money is concerned, the core elements of rap music will appeal to people with certain tastes.

In truth, the music industry is entirely about being a lucrative business. The current modality dictates that even though a musician might be able to make pure sounds that appeal to the soul of the audience, those measly profits are not enough to fill their stomachs. As such, the notion of “corporate music” is not as bad as one might make it out to seem – it is a necessary part of the current music industry, and one that should be fully supported. Granted, a separation of music artists and music performers dictated by the idea of the ‘rockist’ as presented by Sanneh’s New York Times article “The Rap Against Rockism”, is indeed necessary. Yet, the music audience should not be so biased towards a pure black and white definition of grass-root and corporate statuses. Music is music and as Victor Hugo states “…music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.” Even though a ‘guilty’ single might make millions, it does not mean that it is not a pure piece of artistry.

[1] Sanneh, “The Rap Against Rockism”, ¶21

[2] Sanneh,”Getting’ Paid” ¶2 pg. 287

[3] Sanneh,”Getting’ Paid” ¶2 pg. 275

Apple unveils the iRack

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 13:34:08 GMT

No one watched the clip?? How sad...trust me, it'll brighten your day if you're anti-Bush :p

=========
I'm sorry....I just couldn't help it. I can't stop myself from laughing.....>.<....

The Council of Elrond

Fri, 30 Mar 2007 04:08:24 GMT

This is random. Thought I'd put up my stupid assignment, which I've been working on for that last 5 hrs....>.<
Basically its an analysis on the Council of Elrond with an emphasis on Boromir's role.

Yes, yes I know...it's quite disturbing that I'm an absolute Tolkien-fanboi, but it's just one of those quirky/eccentric things about me. It could be worse, then again...I could be addicted to "Titanic".

bleh...1500 word assignment, baby!!

===============

“The Council of Elrond” reveals several stories from all parts of Middle-Earth (M-E) containing implications of Sauron’s return to power. The chapter begins with a brief story from the dwarf Glóin, who gives the reader a brief glimpse of the events that followed “The Hobbit”. It continues with a recounting of the “Last Alliance of Elves and Men” from Elrond, news of Gondor from Boromir, the events of “The Hobbit” from Bilbo, the finding of the Ring and betrayal of Saruman by Gandalf, the escape of Gollum from Legolas, and the eventual appointment of Frodo as the ring-bearer.

‘ …. You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world.’ (II.2)

The stories and history relayed within the Council have an obvious connection with each other; the tale of Glóin gives readers a connection between “Lord of the Rings” and “The Hobbit” while the rest of tales allows a tremendous amount of background information to be given. As the story so far has been focused entirely upon the stories of Frodo’s company, the happenings around M-E has been entirely left out. Within the story it seems that by chance all of these parties have gathered at Rivendell, yet the placement of these characters serves as a plot device for Tolkien in which he is able to relay information about all the happenings that occurred when the book itself is focused on Frodo’s journey.

Elrond’s statement also forewarns the rise of Sauron and the part that is played by each member at the Council in the coming war. As the story progresses, we are able to see that Tolkien focuses events around them in so that they are either directly apart of it or are inadvertently affected by it.

‘ …. Now, therefore, things shall be openly spoken that have been hidden from all but a few until this day. And, first, so that all may understand what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from the beginning even to this present. And I will begin that tale, though others shall end it.” (II.2)

The Council reveals the history of the ring, as well as not only the powers it contain but also the corruption that it brings with it. The Council’s decision in the end of destroying the Ring by casting it into the fires of Sammath Naur also provides a reachable goal for the readers. It allows them to know the destination of the story which enables them to have a target of pursuit, enhancing their experience through the trials and tribulations the Fellowship faces during their journey there.

As a plot device it is successful in that it enables the reader to understand the Ring’s background, but also its powers that are linked with the others made, as well its ability to influence and corrupt its carrier and those around it. Throughout the whole of the chapter, though each character gave a lengthy account, they did not place in any personal attitudes or comments, merely descriptions of history, both recent and long past.

The one single anomaly is Boromir, who consistently boasts of the bravery of himself, his men and Gondor, as well as trying to ascertain the Ring of Power in-order to use it himself as a weapon against the Enemy. Also apparent was his doubt on Aragorn and his role as descendent of Isildor. Although it seems that his heart is in the right place, it is really in fact his ego talking, with the lure of the Ring already working its way into him.

‘ …. Why do you speak ever of hiding and destroying? Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come into our hands to serve us in the very hour of need? Wielding it the Free Lords of the Free may surely defeat the Enemy. That is what he fears the most, I deem. The Men of Gondor are valiant, and they will never submit; but they may be beaten down. Valour needs first strength, and then a weapon. Let the Ring be your weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth to victory!’ (II.2)

The part played by Boromir is that of a devil’s advocate, in which he is constantly tempting the Council to use the Ring in order to defeat Sauron. His is the truest portrayal of men – power hungry. Even though his heart is in the right place, his intentions right, nonetheless he still suffers from this need of power, strength and control. Like Isildor before him, he opts to keep the Ring and use its power instead of doing right and destroy it.

Boromir questions much of the issues explained by the Council, such as Aragorn’s heritage, the Broken Sword of Elendil, even the Council’s decision to destroy the Ring and not use it against Sauron, even though several amongst the Council deemed it too dangerous. Later on in the novel the hints of pride revealed at the Council and the “loyalty” [to Gondor] hinders him in his ability to stay truthful to his quest. Instead, he is corrupted by the power of the Ring and madness descends upon him. His pride eventually displaces his trust on the Council’s decisions, and deems that it is madness to not use the Ring against Sauron. Near the end of “Lord of the Rings” he finally succumbs to the Ring.

‘ …. If any mortals have claim to the ring, it is the men of Númenor, and not Halflings. It is not your save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should be mine. Give it to me!’ (II.10)

‘ …. and suddenly he sprang over the stone and leaped at Frodo. His fair and pleasant face was hideously changed; a raging fire was in his eyes.’ (II.10)

Boromir also acts as a device to grant information to Tolkien’s readers. Even though the accounting of stories by the Council gave a wealth of back-story and recent histories, Boromir’s presence allowed more in-depth explanation for the Ring itself, as well as the quest to destroy it. The original intention of Boromir when he came to the Council was to ask for knowledge regarding a dream both he and his brother had.

‘Seek for the sword that was broken;

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur’s bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.’ (II.2)

It started the whole event of the destruction of the Ring, as it prophesied the return of Elendil’s Sword, the Council of Elrond, the return of the Ring and Frodo’s journey. It is only when the Ring is revealed to the Council does Boromir’s intention changes. As he had originally only come for help in knowledge, now he seeks the use of these items in order to save his country. His questioning of the Council along these lines of thought also provide readers with information of the “why” in the journey, as well as giving the readers a glimpse of how “evil” and “corruptive” the Ring is, and the perilous journey ahead of the Fellowship as they have to constantly battle against the influences of the Ring. A further effect of his role at the Council was in his asking numerous questions, giving small hints to the audience and allowing the person talking ability to expand on their stories.

‘ .... For Isildur did not march away straight from the war in Mordor, as some have told the tale.’

‘.... “Some in the north, maybe” Bromir broke in. “All know in Gondor that he went first to Minas Anor and dwelt a while with his nephew Meneldil, instructing him, before he committed to him the rule of the South Kingdom.’ (II.2)

This meant that readers are able to understand small amounts of history behind the telling of certain events, and their associations with the greater history of M-E. These small amounts of information enabled the story to be more fleshed out, enhancing the idea of Tolkien’s in which this entire novel is a part of lost “history”, and not pure fiction created by him.

“The Council of Elrond” plays a significantly important role in the novel, as it not only is able to relay a lot of back story to the reader, but it also moves the story along by providing glimpses of future events which are revealed through poems and stories from its participants. The role of Boromir is one to challenge the rulings of the Council, providing an alternative viewpoint for the reader, as well as advancing the story by providing the Council with the dream that he, and his brother, received.

Psyched

Tue, 27 Mar 2007 12:20:28 GMT

Oh ho ho ho~~~

Today's been a very long, but very fruitful day. Although, considering at one point I had this rediculous notion of repeatedly slamming my head into the monitor of my work station computer and making a complet arse of myself, it was actually relatively peaceful. Well...depends on how you define the term "peaceful" anyhow.

So, any which ways, originally I had been fucking around Uni doing shite-all all morning, then I realized that I have this 1000-word assignment due. Which I started, sometime around 9ish this morning, when it was due at 4pm. I know, I know, it's really bad of me to have such crappy organization skills, but you'll be absolutely astounded that I'm making it through Uni when I had to be reminded by a mate that I have another 1500-word thingy due on Friday, as well as another Textual Close-Reading thing later next week. Meh......

But, my organization skill is not the reason why I'm currently so giddy...or sexually stimulated...or whatever the fook you call it. It is infact to do with a brilliant script-writing thing I went to tonight, having finished all the "crap" needed done by Uni today. I finished class at 6, went to a meeting with a load of my mates for a media production thingy (tell later), then we went enmass to the Classic Comedy Bar up Queens to listen to this fantastic screen-script writer named Graeme Tetley concerning his work on Out of the Blue. The experience was awesome, as he told of the way he writes, the things that had happened as they were in Aramoana working on the script, and numerous other tidbits including reading out excerpts of the original working script (the one actively being written and unedited, for those unfamiliar with film terminology).

It gave me a lot of insight upon the workings of the script writing process, and a Q&A session afterwards provided me with answers on some questions that have been around for a fairly long time. It was a bit on the late side though, yet I'd still go given the chance again. Still, I'm very much ashamed to say I nearly fell asleep in the middle of it - the room was stiffling, the air was thick with the scent of drinks and perfume and I was not only very tired, but also slightly groggy as my last hit of caffeine died a ways back. I had downed a cup of Rum on Coke, so that kept me awake for a while...but I was sweating like a pig in that place. Have they never heard of air conditiong!?

Anyhow...that was a most brilliant experience, and one that I most certainly intend to relive as there's another meeting a month from now upon script writing for New Media (internet media such as blogging), which certainly seems promising.

But, before all of this happened, something most definitely very exciting happened. I was in a meeting with a bunch of other media/film geeks and we've been all notified of a brand-new project: StudentTV. It's suppose to be a *almost* 24/7 internet streaming broadcast that will incorporate various elements of programming; basically it will house anything and everything that can be produced by the student populace. There's also talk of direct-live-time journalistic news programming, and we've got people from AUT that apparently sounds keen. I've decided not only am I going to get stuck in with that project, but I'm going to run for Principle Director. How awesome is that!?

Still...the plan of operation needs to be refined a *lot* more by a few of us, and it isn't happening *just* quite yet. Anyhow...that was today, and tomorrow's a day off from Uni, even though I have a meeting with my film production group. Might post about it later :p

Bloody Assignments

Mon, 26 Mar 2007 23:29:01 GMT

I just can't be fucked. Assignment due today in.....4 hours 33 minutes.

have done 300/1000 words.

I hate myself XD

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how come no one ever comments on my page?? talking to myself kind'a sucks.

Free at last....

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 12:15:37 GMT

"Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!" - Martin Luther King, Jr.

It's interesting I must say, that such a simple thing of freedom can meaning be found in so many different ways. For the last week or so, I've had the most brilliant opportunity of being stuck in bed, dosed so heavily on painkillers that I was basically in a coma of sorts - in and out of conciousness repeatedly (through self-manipulation, of course) because the pain from the stitchings healing in my mouth from the surgery was too intense for me. I simply couldn't operate on a health day-to-day level. Maybe I'm over-exaggerating, but it's most certainly the feeling that I get today from being able to do everything and anything I liked - save for eating normal food, but that's a nonpluss.

Yet...this concept of freedom...is vague at best, and something for even the most allowing person to think of as a disgrace to have used a quote from Dr. King's monumental speech. A battle against segregation between the Blacks and the Whites of 1960s America, and the racial conflicts that were a staple of not only that era, but also those long before it, and those long after it. A very beautiful film (to me) was created called "Crash" by Paul Haggis.

Now, even though that film was an exaggeration and at-times completely false representation of racial relations in this day and age in L.A., it still struck a cord with me - these things depicted happening...are things that I've learnt to grow up with in this world. Harrasement, doubt, resentment, prejudice, hate, stereotyped, et cetra. Very negative language, but something that is undeniably true that I cannot help but pay attention to it. I don't know why, nor do I know why this night, at this very particular moment, do I feel the need to be ranting about this...but I feel as if I should. To be honest, I started writing this entry simply because I haven't written anything in the last few days - I've either been having shooting complete mental blanks, or I've been in either on too much meds or in too much pain. Yet, my God there is this utter despair in me that sometimes creeps towards me in the middle of the night as I sit here alone, unappreciative of all the good things in my life.

Long have I been subjected to racial prejudice: over-weight, asian, geeky. For most that instantly paints a picture of who I am physically; for many that instantly paints a picture on the way I speak, the way I present myself to the world, pictures of how I might think, how I react, how I live. I doubt that anyone in this world (save those too young or mentally inept) would have trouble instantly painting my life as they feel it should be. That thinking, is a product of our environment: the things we are taught, affected by, heard, saw, smelled.

It is no fault of their's...merely something that is grounded in human behaviour - we like to label things, and once one is accustomed to certain labels attached to certain scenarios, one does not like letting go. Yet, is it right? Let me explain a little further - a few years ago I had the pleasure of dining at a very fine restaurant including preppy clothes, good-looking attendees and expensive furnishings. Me, being who I am, was slightly under-dressed for the occassion - a birthday celebration. I was only slightly under-dressed; just missing a tie as I can't be bothered with those things. I was stopped by the man guarding the door and jested at, as he thought me unfit to be in such a place. It was obvious he was nitpicking - his disdain for my "asianess" was oh-so-subtlely-hinted by the name he was calling me. Granted, I was hanging by the entrance waiting for a friend of mine to arrive so we could go in together, and I suppose "loitering" would've been an understatement.

Anyhow, after my friend arrived we went inside for the meal, which the man scoffed at my ability to appreciate such fine cuisine. I was sort of amused, to be honest, as moments before my friend arrived he made some exaggerated facial expressions and said to me - "CAN-YOU-UNDERSTAND-THE-THINGS-THAT-ARE-COMING-OUT-OF-MY-MOUTH!?" Obviously, he's seen Rush Hour. I, like Jacki Chan, simply smiled stupidly and ignored him. I thought he was not only acting like a baffoon, but also making a mockery out of not only himself, but everything he stood for. As the evening went on, with the meal finished, I asked for the manager of the establishment. The man at the door had the blood drain out of his face, since I had done so at the counter right beside the door. Of course, I was speaking absolutely perfect english. The manager came and I applauded him on a brilliant business, and gave him a 20 dollar tip.

Needless to say, the man at the door was relieved. Right before I left, I turned to him and patted him on the shoulder, and said to him "don't judge so easily next time". All he could do was stutter an apology.

That's a nice little story, I suppose...but it's one that sums up well the things that I wanted to rant about. Even with NZ being such a great cultural/racial melting-pot, things like this obviously still happens. There are numerous other stories that I could have told, of which the majority were of my childhood. Yet this one, I think, has the greatest importance of them all - it was something that happened within the last few years; years of which we as beings of this world count as the great "civilized" 21st Century.

I've had something brewing in me lately as well, actually. I want to make a film, similar to what "Crash" is to Americans. Yet, it's not about them, but us - NZers. Or rather, more precisely, Asian-NZers. Maybe something that'll change how people see things, so that I don't sit here and ponder why things are the way things are.

Now I'm just not making any sense anymore. Been at this particular entry now for an hour, and I think the things I want to say are tangled within random thoughts that I'm just typing here due to the simple sake that I'm typing them here.

sigh........

Orgasm Face

Fri, 16 Mar 2007 08:47:21 GMT

Rofl....I seriously can't stop laughing...you have *got* to take a look at this XD

Faces of Orgasm

On the other hand....I was sort of bored, so comes this:

Freudian Inventory Results

Oral (56%) you appear to have a good balance of independence and interdependence knowing when to accept help and when to do things on your own.
Anal (40%) you appear to have a good balance of self control and spontaneity, order and chaos, variety and selectivity.
Phallic (40%) you appear to have a good balance of sexual awareness and sexual composure.
Latency (53%) you appear to have a good balance of abstract knowledge seeking and practicality, dealing with real world responsibilities while still cultivating your abstract and creative faculties and interests.
Genital (53%) you appear to be somewhere between a progressive/openminded and regressive/closeminded outlook on life.

Take Free Freudian Inventory Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

Feeling much better

Fri, 16 Mar 2007 04:01:50 GMT

Thank God for painkillers.

Last night during the night I had to be woken repeatedly so that I could take my meds, as well as change the ice in my icepack; it was alright I suppose, but it just felt a little weird. The last time I was this "ill", so to speak, was a very very long time ago. But still...these meds keep my face from feeling much of anything, which is a good thing, given the current shape of my face if I didn't take the painkillers I'd be moaning and crying and what not.

Speaking of that, I woke up this morning feeling quite bloated - the entire right side of my jawline has puffed up, and slightly on the left side. It's enough to make me look as if I'm one of those bloated fat kids whose face are so swollen due to fat that all you see of their eyes' are little slits! Kind'a sad really, but the icepack is healing a lot. To be honest, I'm actually feeling much better compared to yesterday.

Only downside is that I'm constantly feeling weak; the anaesthesia from yesterday is still lingering in my system, so I often feel like I want to go back to sleep again. There are much better things for me to do than that, but still....my will's too weak to go against what my body wants to do. Oh well.....

Anyhow, not much is happening besides resting, except that I'm feeling like an absolute invalid, and that the boredom is starting to get to me. God would know how much I hate doing absolutely nothing. Meh...

Since there's not much else happening either, I'm just going to leave it for now, until there's something interesting happening, or at the very least something that's going to break my continous cycle of boredom.

Damnit!!

Thu, 15 Mar 2007 02:04:43 GMT

Oww my face hurts....>.<......

This morning I got up at about 20 past 7ish, and headed over to the surgery place to get my teeth extracted. Was feeling pretty trepidated, but I had to just square up and face the music, I suppose.

They got me to change into one of those robe thingies, left me for about 1/2 hr, then got me into an operating theater and got me to get ready and all that. The anaethetist had to poke <b>TWO</b> holes in my arm 'cause he couldn't get to the stupid bloody vein. Sigh......

Anyhow, they filled me up with some pure oxygen, and the anaethetist turned on the drugs. It was awesome - I basically blinked about 3 them...and then nothing! I suddenly came back to life all done and everything in the recovery room, except for the fact that I couldn't move a single bone in my system. Horrid feeling, I swear, sort of like they pumped your system completely full of lead and left you there to die.

Although.....as promised, I have piccies. Warning though.....the ones of my teeth aren't for the feint of heart.