Television: The Drug of the Nation

Breeding ignorance and feeding radiation. You remember when TV was the big drug? When you learned that watching TV was bad for you and would melt your brain or make your eyes go square? Yup those were the days. I remember growing up with less than twenty channels to choose from. See, I grew up without cable. That means I didn’t watch Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon or anything like that. The only times I got to see those shows were on vacation and at my cousin’s house.

I’ve never really been a big TV person. Yeah, there were shows we would watch every night, mostly CSI, CSI: NY, NCIS, and the like. Crime shows were big and really, there wasn’t much else to watch. Sometimes we would watch Survivor, but that really only lasted one or two seasons. It wasn’t like the 90s when there were tons of good shows running around. However, TV was still a huge part of my childhood and the childhoods of many.

Then the internet came. It started with a computer, some simple little games, mostly educational, and dial-up. You remember dial-up, don’t you? But we’re not talking about that. With the internet came less television, but not much. Living in a house with one computer sporting internet access turns had to be taken. This left me with plenty of time still with my TV, when my brother wasn’t playing whatever game system he had at the time. This also left me a plenty of time for outdoor activities and most importantly, reading.

The TV habit got worse when we traded dial-up for Comcast my ninth-grade year. It was for my sister’s cyber schooling originally but it made life so much easier. Not only did we have unlimited internet access, with wireless, I might add, we also had all those channels I missed out on as a kid. We were, naturally, still pretty far behind most modern families but that’s the way we’ve always been so I was okay with that. I could watch cartoons at any time during the day. I could watch MythBusters and Gilmore Girls and Scrubs as well. It brought out a whole new form of television addiction.

And then two things changed. I got a laptop, and we got Netflix. Television is now little more than a device on which I enjoy my video games, when they aren’t on an emulator. The addiction has moved from the physical TV to the computer screen. I can watch entire seasons on my lap top while lying in bed. And you know what? This is worse than the television age. While it is true that people began forgoing physical activity for television, as well as drifting away from personal communication with the family, the television age did not separate us from the people in our households. The computer, however, does. It is a solitary device used by one person at a time. A family does not gather around a computer to watch their favorite shows. The family goes into separate rooms and watches them on their own personal computer.

This is, however, still a television addiction. I spent all day watching Bones on Netflix. This is not healthy in anyway, but oh so entertaining. I did take a two hour break to watch a movie with my sister, but it was in the same place, in my bed. This is not healthy, people. Not healthy at all.

Harvest the Moon

You know how the Pokémon craze worked? How once you got into one game and they made another you had to play it even though it was pretty much the exact same game? You know that loyalty you felt for the game, playing it over and over even though it didn’t really change from game to game and the same things happened over and over again? Well, that’s how it is for me with Harvest Moon.

I have two people to blame for this addiction that I have developed. The first is my brother, who made me download a visual boy advanced emulator. Yes, it was originally to play Pokémon, but once it had served that purpose I had to move on to something else. The second person I have to blame is that Josiah kid who I never see anymore. T.T. He and that Jac kid who invades my house once a week were both real big on it and thus I became curious. So, naturally I down loaded Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town and thus it began. I’ve now added four other Harvest Moon games to my list of HMs I’ve played and all but one are pretty much exactly the same.

You play as a guy (usually) who has somehow come to own a farm outside of a small town. You run around talking to people, getting them to like you and whatnot and meeting pretty, young, single girls who you get to woo into marrying you. On top of that you have to manage your farm: planting crops, feeding animals and so on. All of the games are the same in this way. The people in the game, while retaining the same faces and names, sometimes change places.

So why is this game so addicting? It’s not like there’s a whole lot you can do. Every day, (which lasts generally five minutes if you spend the entire time outside) tends to be the same. You get up, throw your dog so that it will love you, go water your crops, feed your animals, throw them so they’ll love you too, brush your horse, collect whatever random stuff is growing that season for money, woo the girl of your choice, and then go to bed before you’ve used up all of your energy so that you won’t over sleep the next day. And you do this over and over again.

Well, for me it’s the wooing. I enjoy talking to the girls and seeing what they’ll say when they reached the next heart level and watching their heart events and getting them to fall in love with me. Same with the guys, in More Friends of Mineral Town, which is the girl version of Friends of Mineral town. It’s always a little different in each game, and each girl is very different. Thus far I’ve wooed all but two of the girls and was in the process of wooing another when I found a new version that offered a female character. But you’ll have to wait for a review of that one.

Mama Birth: ACOG Strikes Again

Mama Birth: ACOG Strikes Again

British Mind Control

Why is it that British television is so damn addictive? Think about it. How many crazy British television crazes are there here in the states? Okay, most of you can name two off the top of your head. Monty Python and Dr. Who, which are both great examples! My brother and I were quite into Monty Python’s Flying Circus for a while and I’ve got several friends who are addicted to Dr. Who. But it’s not limited to them.

I recently discovered, though YouTube’s talent for suggesting rather random videos based on those that you’ve watched. Seriously, I once got six or seven videos suggested to me from YouTube on planting hydrangeas. Why? I’ve got no clue. I can’t think of what I could have possibly watched that would in any way be related to hydrangeas and the proper way to plant them. Anyway, I was suggested the first part of an episode of a BBC television sitcom called My Hero. I’ve been watching it ever since.

My Hero is about a super hero, Thermoman, who is from the planet Ultran, and assigned to protect earth. He hasn’t been on earth very long and doesn’t quite understand everything about humans and their behaviors. However, when he saves a nurse named Janet from falling in the Grand Canyon he falls instantly in love with her and follows her to London just to see her… and complement her in odd ways. His alter ego is George Sunday, a health shop owner from Ireland. His shop isn’t very successful due to poor employment and perhaps the fact that he constantly has to run to the bathroom, where he changes into Thermoman. It has to be in a bathroom, too. He can’t change anywhere else.

So, what happens when a superhero from another planet starts living with a human nurse from London? Hijinx, duh! It’s actually really amusing watching the kind of trouble George and Janet get into as they try to keep George’s identity a secret, while dealing with her odd co-workers, his alien ways, and her overbearing mother along with Janet’s neighbor Tyler who was on something very special in the sixties. He thinks he’s been to pretty much all of the planets in the suns orbit, plus several others he’s probably made up. He also somehow instinctively knows that George is Thermoman. It’s very special.

My Hero has six or so seasons of seven episodes each. Not sure why that is. It’s rather cute most of the time, though some things don’t really make sense all of the time. But it can be super cute at times and really amusing so one can over look the inconsistencies. This still begs the question, however, why is it, exactly, that this has had me hooked for the past three days when I should be doing school work? Well, because it’s British. And that’s what they do. Thanks BBC. Really.

Villainy!

Good villains are highly underrated. This is my firm belief. Anyone can spot a good hero, it takes nearly no effort at all to form a good protagonist. It’s the antagonists that are hard; making a good villain takes some mad skills.

Villains are not something I really thought much about until I started writing. Even after I started at LP I didn’t pay much attention to them until my second year. You know how when you make a new friend and spend a lot of time with them some of their little quirks tend to rub off on you? Well this is one of those quirks that rubbed off on me. My friend Brelyn is a big fan of villains. She probably likes them more than most protagonists and after spending some time with her… I almost feel the same way… almost. It’s true; the villain can really make or break a story.

There are many different types of villains, you know. There are the sympathetic type; the ones with a good reason to be evil, the crazy type; those who are absolutely mad and loving it, the pure evil type; the ones who are evil because… well they’re just evil, and all sorts of others. A truly good villain can sort of balance out several types of evil in one person.

The best villains are the ones we love to hate. They’re smart, cunning, manipulative and will stop at nothing to get what they want. These are the kids who were bullied on the play ground that grow up to invent the freeze-ray. Personally, I like the subtle villains, the ones with high charisma and elegant manners, that don’t necessarily scream ‘I’m a villain!’ These are the villains who are simply board and wanted to screw with people for fun, the ones that simply say ‘Because I’m evil’ when asked ‘Why are you doing this?’ These are the ones I love most.

Our cinematic culture is putting villains in a new light nowadays. The second class character who was once little more than a plot device to show off an awesome main character is now becoming the protagonist himself. Take movies like Despicable Me or Dr. Horrible’s Sing-along Blog. These movies have taken the character who would normally be the antagonist and, without making them good guys, have turned them into sympathetic protagonists. It’s funny how those bent on evil and destruction are now the ones we want to care about most. The so-called ‘misunderstood.’

So, the next time you’re watching a movie or reading a book, pay close attention to the villain of the story. He’s more just a black cloak and curly mustache.

Good To Be In The New Year

'Tis my first post of the new year. I wrestled back and forth with what to include this lovely afternoon. My first posts included art and photography, I've offered up some music, and quite a few film recommendations. So what to do to start myself on the right foot this year? I think I'll go with music, and oh do I have so much to share

First up is a band I found recently called Geographer. These guys have an amazing album "Animal Shapes," which had blown my mind in the way of experimental alternative music. I can't even explain what they sound like, they just are. You have to give 'Kites' a listen to understand. You'll like it if you dig my previous suggestions, trust me

Next up are these guys Parachute Musical. This piano fronted Nashville via D.C. based band has all the makings of soulful indie pop. 'One More Song' has an arrangement unlike anything I've heard in a while and I kind of love it

Finally today for you I have the lovely band Daestro. I've been a fan for a minute or two and have found their progression over time to be one of the reasons I've stuck around. Occasionally a band changes themselves and lose the essence of what makes them fans. These guys have done it right. Their growth has allowed me to grow with them. My favorite of the moment is 'Vermillion Plaza.'

I'll be back to write for you lovely people next Friday

The Way She Walks

This is the last creative thing I wrote in 2010. I hope you all enjoy it.

I could tell by the way she walked that she didn’t belong. Sure she dressed like us, but no one walks like that down here. Slow, deliberate, one foot placed perfectly in front of the other; toe-heel, toe-heel, toe-heel. She’d have looked less conspicuous in her fancy dress and gleaming tiara. At least then she would have looked right, if out of place. Down here, dressed in our clothes, with her clean hair sloppily braided, walking toe-heel, toe-heel, she looked ridiculous as well as out of place. Any street kid could have spotted her. It just so happened to be me.

“What happened?” I asked her from my perch beside the fruit stand. I always perch there because the fruit smell covers the city stink best. “Nobles kick ya’ out?”

“Excuse me?” she replied, looking at me with round blue eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.” She even talked proper. No slurred words, no lisp, no accent. Just perfect, clear diction. And manners! ‘Excuse me?’ No one asks to be excused on these streets! Yup, she stuck out like a sore thumb and she didn’t even know it.

“Naw, ‘course ya don’t,” I said, rocking on my heels. “Cuz everyone down here walks just like that.”

“Like what?” she asked, looking down at her feet. “Is there something wrong with the way I walk?”

“Yeah, there’s somethin’ wrong,” I told her, hopping off my perch, “You ain’t no street kid, that’s what’s wrong. Street kids walk like this.” I showed her my best strut, walking around her in a circle. “You walk like this.” I imitated her dainty walk going the opposite direction. She frowned at me, a ridge forming between her eyes.

“I don’t walk like that at all,” she protested. “Your form is all wrong.”

“See there!” I said, pointing my finger at her so close it made her eyes go crossed looking at it. “Ya might dress like a street kid but you don’t talk like no street kid. So what’s a noble doin’ down here anyway?”

“I did not get kicked out if that’s what you’re asking,” she informed me, her shoulders squaring as she tried to look dignified. “I ran away.”

“And why would ya go an’ do a thing like that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her as I crossed my arms.

“That’s none of your business,” she replied, turning her nose up at me. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people who turn their noses up.

“Fine,” I said, “If it’s none-a my business maybe I’ll go talk to that guard over there.” I jerked my head to the left where a patrol guard was chatting with a pastry vender. “I’m sure he’ll be interested in the noble runaway tryin’ta pass for a street kid.”

I took two steps toward the pastry cart before she grabbed my arm, pulling me back behind the fruit stand. “Please don’t,” she begged, keeping her voice low. “If I tell you, will you teach me how to be a street child?”

“Kid,” I corrected. “Sure.”

She hesitated a moment, looking around as if someone might be listening to our conversation. Lesson number one: no one pays attention to street kids.

“My father wants me to marry some man I’ve never met,” she told me. I waited for her to continue but her look told me she thought that was a good enough answer.

“And?” I asked. “What of it?”

“What of it?” she asked, her eyes going wide again. “He’s old! And I don’t want to marry him!”

Nobles are the weirdest bunch, I’m tellin ya. The men like to wait until they’re thirty to marry, but they like to marry off their daughters when they’re real young, the younger the better. My runaway was something like twelve, thirteen at the oldest. Way I hear it, even thirteen is a little late for noble girls to be married off. You’d think she’d be ready for this, but the look in her eyes was one of pure disgust. I kinda wondered how she would fair on the streets. Street kids die off quick so if you wanna try the whole family thing you gotta move fast. Mostly it goes ya like a girl, ya sleep with her, ya move on. If ya really like her ya keep sleepin’ with her and it’s the same as be’n married I guess. I got the feeling my runaway wouldn’t like that idea anymore than marrying the old guy. Maybe that would scare her back to him. Either way I figured I should keep an eye on her. Little chick like her was liable to be picked up real quick.

“I’ll tell ya this, right here,” I said to her. “Ya don’t belong down here, and fittin’ in’s not gonna be easy. Ya sure this is better?”

“Anything is better than sharing a bed with a man more than twice my age,” she informed me with a nod. “So teach me. I’m a fast learner, you’ll see.”

“Alright,” I sighed, grabbing her hand and pulling into the back alley. “But I’m gonna need some help with you.” It was clear I had my work cut out for me but I’ve never backed down from a challenge in my life, and I wasn’t about to start with her.