I have a sore back.
I don't mean it's a little bit sore, or that I slept on it the wrong way, or anything that could be described as temporary. When I saw I have a sore back, I unfortuantely mean permanently, and not anything that could be described as a little bit. What makes this more interesting is it was entirely my fault. Well, mostly.
Allow me to elaborate.
When I was born, well, I was rather distracted at the time, but as it turns out my spine wasn't entirely as a spine should be. At this point I could make jokes about being spineless and having no backbone, and look, I just did. But the issue in question was that one of the discs in the lumbar area of my spine (presumably where the logging industries work) wasn't quite as sturdy as it normally is.
This was not noticed at the time, I merely mention it now for chronology's sake. Fast forward 21 years, and I was now an adult, writing, among other things, short comedy plays for my local church. We had been doing this for about six months and it was great fun and our humour was being well received.
The latest script included, for reasons that now escape me (possibly as a result of ensuing concussion) a section where an actor portrayed the life of a tree. He started as a seed, then grew into a full tree, before facing off against strong winds, forest fires, before finally being chopped down by the logging industry, at which point he fell sideways to the floor I was that actor. I played that tree, and that floor was a rather sturdy wooden platform, which made a satisfying thump when I hit it.
The audience applauded at this display of violence, and I finished the play in good spirits. We took our bows, and I returned to my seat, whereupon I realised I was having a little trouble breathing, which didn't on the whole strike me as a good thing. The doctor (when I went, he wasn't sitting beside me at the time or anything) explained I had bruised some ribs, but that this would go away in time, and for the moment I should instead concentrate on not falling over in future. The pain went away and so I promptly forgot about it.
A few months later though, I noticed that my back was rather sore. The occasional sore back was nothing really new so I ignored it, but as the month wore on it didn't go away, so I realised something might be wrong, and desiring some medical opinions to back (ha!) that up, my doctor organised some tests to be done, that were a) extremely expensive, and b) a little bit weird
The first was an x-ray, which is not all that weird as I've had them before (once for a suspected broken ankle, and another time to check the airways in my lungs. X-rays generally seem to occur in dingy test labs, like they're slightly embarrassed to still be performing them in this day and age. The problem, as a nervous technician came in to tell me, was that they couldn't find my spine. I idly considered asking them if they'd tried looking in my back, but decided against it and merely assured them that it was there, and could they keep looking.
A couple of readjusted x-rays later and I was proved medically to not be spineless, and I was off to have a CT scan, which is a far newer (and more expensive) test, that scans the layers of muscle and tissue sliver by sliver, therefore giving the odd impression that I had had a nasty accident with a paper shredder. Unlike x-rays, the CT scan took place in a gleaming white spotless lab, and involves lying on a bed which is passed through a giant revolving white disc, and left me with the unerring impression that if they couldn't work out what was wrong with my back they could at least beam me up to the mothership.
My doctor spoke to me once the results had arrived, and informed me that my extremely expensive tests had not actually shown anything conclusive, so he was going to recommend me to a physiotherapist to see if he could do something about the back pain.
I explained all this to the physiotherapist who took at look at the tests and told me that in actual fact, as a result of my fall, I had managed to disloge on of the discs in my spine that has been more than usually fragile since birth.
So, by writing what seemed a midly amusing scene involving a tree, I had managed to give myself a permanent back injury.
On the whole this takes suffering for your art to an amusingly literal extreme.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Movie Review Smorgasbord Round-up Extravaganza - The Complete Collection Part 6: Up In The Air
Earlier this year a friend treated me to a birthday present by taking me out to Gold Class to see the new (at the time) George Clooney Film "Up In The Air." It was the follow up film of the director of the interesting but kind of weird film "Juno," and in admirably symmetry, Up In The Air can also be neatly summarised as interesting but kind of weird.
Gold Class was as it always is, very comfortable with excellent food but with the slight uncomfortable feeling that you've just spent waaaaaay too much to go see a film, even if your trio of mini hot dogs WAS delicious and you've another coffee and some ice cream on the way. A chief benefit is that the chairs actually do a lot to remove the discomfort my back feels at the cinema, but this hardly justifies the costs involved as a regular event. Still, it's a nice thing to do so long as it only happens once or twice a year.
The film tells the story of George Clooney (because one of the nicer things about George Clooney is he only ever plays himself) as he travels around the country firing people, in one of the more bizarre examples of outsourcing. He is joined by two women, one cynical, one not. The tale (such as it is) is a character based drama, meaning that there are some very interesting insights into the characters involved, and a genuine sense of change and growth for them throughout the film. On the other hand though you can't quite shake the thought that not a whole lot has happened in the last two hours, with an ending that believes that being vague and ambiguious somehow stands in for closure.
That being said though, the film has an undeniable intrigue to it, held together by Clooney's performance, that actually manages to make cynical firing guy believable. The plot is lacking but that's not to say there is not enjoyment to be had. Just be prepared to say "Well, that was weird" as the credits roll.
Rating 4 out of 6.
Gold Class was as it always is, very comfortable with excellent food but with the slight uncomfortable feeling that you've just spent waaaaaay too much to go see a film, even if your trio of mini hot dogs WAS delicious and you've another coffee and some ice cream on the way. A chief benefit is that the chairs actually do a lot to remove the discomfort my back feels at the cinema, but this hardly justifies the costs involved as a regular event. Still, it's a nice thing to do so long as it only happens once or twice a year.
The film tells the story of George Clooney (because one of the nicer things about George Clooney is he only ever plays himself) as he travels around the country firing people, in one of the more bizarre examples of outsourcing. He is joined by two women, one cynical, one not. The tale (such as it is) is a character based drama, meaning that there are some very interesting insights into the characters involved, and a genuine sense of change and growth for them throughout the film. On the other hand though you can't quite shake the thought that not a whole lot has happened in the last two hours, with an ending that believes that being vague and ambiguious somehow stands in for closure.
That being said though, the film has an undeniable intrigue to it, held together by Clooney's performance, that actually manages to make cynical firing guy believable. The plot is lacking but that's not to say there is not enjoyment to be had. Just be prepared to say "Well, that was weird" as the credits roll.
Rating 4 out of 6.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Diary Of A Mad Writer #6, Now With Mad Organising Skill(z)
This morning I went to my slightly overdue haircut, so I went and caught the bus over to Northcote, where I've been getting my hair cut for the last five years. Some would argue (reasonably persuasively) that there are many hair dressers in my own suburb, and wouldn't it save time to get it cut there? Well, yes. But I like this hair dresser, he knows me and he knows how I cut my hair, which is good because I don't, other than "um, shorter than it is now" which really doesn't narrow it down all that much, especially when I haven't been in a few months.
Before I get my haircut I generally treat myself to a cooked breakfast at the cafe accross the road, a) because it's extremely nice, b) because I'm in the area anyway, and c) because I can. There's something quite relaxing about writing some notes for upcoming projects while sipping a coffee and idly munching on some leftover toast, and it's something I would do more often if my budget and health allowed.
The haircut itself was a little short for my liking, though unfortunately once that's occurred it's difficult to say "actually a bit longer would be great, thanks" since the 'damage' so to speak has already occurred, so there's not a terribly huge amount you can do. Unless you're Doctor Who/Marty McFly, as then you could go back in time and, say, prevent the hairdresser from being born. This wouldn't change your hair but it would create a paradox that would at least take your mind off it. In any case it's not terrible by any means, and it will grow into a length that I prefer. And then continue to grow, like the rebellious head of hair that it is.
Currently I am putting some work into a couple of different long form stories I am writing, after the realisation that though it seems slower, I actually am more productive when working on multiple things at once. Even though I achieve less in each project, I achieve more overall, and so in the long term this is beneficial, provided I keep staring into the distance, which is why I really should go back to the optometrist and get my glasses updated.
So there are two stories I am currently working on long term:
A fantasy novel about trying to wake someone in your own dreams.
A fantasy crime thriller about the mysterious descendants of the so called witches from the Middle Ages. I would call it Harry Potter with guns, except that's a terrible thing to call it, and besides, it's not. Anyway, Ender's Game is Harry Potter with guns.
What I've never really done before, but which seems to be helping, is keeping some notes (which I'm using some software on my computer for) on characters, locations, and events and plotting out a timeline to assist me with keeping events going correctly. This is stuff I normally do in my head, but it's definately helping having it all out visually in front of me. The software does go a little too far, asking me rather unhelpful questions like "What does this place smell like" to which I must resist the answer "your face", but otherwise it's good to have an indication of each area and character, meaning their design remains consistent, and chan be updated as needed.
So I'm enjoying working on both of these, as well the website, the game project, the film projects, the theatre project, and the tv projects. Oh, and my day job.
Yup, keeping myself busy...
Before I get my haircut I generally treat myself to a cooked breakfast at the cafe accross the road, a) because it's extremely nice, b) because I'm in the area anyway, and c) because I can. There's something quite relaxing about writing some notes for upcoming projects while sipping a coffee and idly munching on some leftover toast, and it's something I would do more often if my budget and health allowed.
The haircut itself was a little short for my liking, though unfortunately once that's occurred it's difficult to say "actually a bit longer would be great, thanks" since the 'damage' so to speak has already occurred, so there's not a terribly huge amount you can do. Unless you're Doctor Who/Marty McFly, as then you could go back in time and, say, prevent the hairdresser from being born. This wouldn't change your hair but it would create a paradox that would at least take your mind off it. In any case it's not terrible by any means, and it will grow into a length that I prefer. And then continue to grow, like the rebellious head of hair that it is.
Currently I am putting some work into a couple of different long form stories I am writing, after the realisation that though it seems slower, I actually am more productive when working on multiple things at once. Even though I achieve less in each project, I achieve more overall, and so in the long term this is beneficial, provided I keep staring into the distance, which is why I really should go back to the optometrist and get my glasses updated.
So there are two stories I am currently working on long term:
A fantasy novel about trying to wake someone in your own dreams.
A fantasy crime thriller about the mysterious descendants of the so called witches from the Middle Ages. I would call it Harry Potter with guns, except that's a terrible thing to call it, and besides, it's not. Anyway, Ender's Game is Harry Potter with guns.
What I've never really done before, but which seems to be helping, is keeping some notes (which I'm using some software on my computer for) on characters, locations, and events and plotting out a timeline to assist me with keeping events going correctly. This is stuff I normally do in my head, but it's definately helping having it all out visually in front of me. The software does go a little too far, asking me rather unhelpful questions like "What does this place smell like" to which I must resist the answer "your face", but otherwise it's good to have an indication of each area and character, meaning their design remains consistent, and chan be updated as needed.
So I'm enjoying working on both of these, as well the website, the game project, the film projects, the theatre project, and the tv projects. Oh, and my day job.
Yup, keeping myself busy...
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Cold Season, Flu Season, Red Season, Blue Season!
They say that every journey begins with a single step. This is true.
They don't say that every plummit off a 5000 ft cliff begins with a single step as well, but this is also true, unless you're Stephen Hawking, Christopher Reeve, or have the ability to fly via perhaps some type of jetpack, helicopter, or a freak mutation at birth that gave you wings/your own jet propulsion system that the other kids mocked you for at primary school but now a super villian is attacking the town hall and the smart yet ditzy and good looking mayor's aide is trapped inside and the only entrance is from the roof and oh if only there was a hero who could get inside and save her/take her out to dinner so WHO'S LAUGHING NOW? HUH? WHO'S LAUGHING NOW?
I think I may have wandered off point.
While it's certainly true that a 1,000,000 step journey does indeed begin with a single step, feeling proud of yourself after only one step when you've still got 999,999 steps to go is probably a bit premature. Don't get me wrong. I will walk 500 miles. And I think the sentiment behind the saying is that rather than worrying about the length of the journey, it's important to just get out there and start (Unless rather than the 500 mile/fall down at door scenario, you are referring to the plummeting cliff death scenario, in which case I heartily recommend NOT starting. Procrastination has it's merits, particuliarly in relation to falling off cliffs).
My brother and I have been planning a number of interactive game projects since we were about 5. This wasn't the only thing we made up, in our heads we created books, movies, tv shows, plays, and ocassionally adventures where we were (obviously) the stars. In many ways we've always been writers. Not necessarily GOOD writers, but writers nonetheless. I remember one of our earliest ideas was a sketch comedy tv show which featured a large amount of video game references (we liked video games, you see). A lot of the sketches we came up with have (fortunately) vanished into the mists of time like so much, um, mist, but what I can recall seems to largely consist of my brother being a lizard (not really for any humourous intent, he just likes lizards), and me walking into walls.
Fortunately we've greatly improved since then. Our current project is a modifcation for an existing game, which I am handling writing and level design/creation for. Every modifcation begins with a single step, and for me that step is that, in order for me to create and design the levels, I need to know how you create and design levels.
So I'm going through a dvd course at the moment, and in a nerdy/geeky (not dorky) kind of way, am finding it thoroughly fascinating. I'm currently playing through the main game we are working with (damn you, achievements) and it's quite interesting to see how it's put together. The first time I played through the thought generally running through my head was "Wow, look at the world they've *BANG!* built, it's incredible *RAAARGH!* how immersive *EXPLODE!* this game is." Now, the thought running through my head is "Interesting, *BLAM!* so they used this texture here, but *SLASH!* rotated it, and used a light field to *SPLATTER* create that shadow..." which certainly adds a rathe surreal air to it all, like an action game where you play as a chartered accountant who defends the galaxy while also doing his tax return.
The type of things you can get away with in a 3D engine is really rather ingenious, including the ability to create a scale model of, say, a mountain range, and being able to use this as a giant 3-dimensional background.
Yes I'm a nerd. But being a nerd is AWESOME.
(As a side note, the title of this blog was suggested by my good friend N3rd Girl, who runs a blog at http://n3rd-girl.blogspot.com/, which is very amusing. You should read it. You should read it now. I'll wait.)
They don't say that every plummit off a 5000 ft cliff begins with a single step as well, but this is also true, unless you're Stephen Hawking, Christopher Reeve, or have the ability to fly via perhaps some type of jetpack, helicopter, or a freak mutation at birth that gave you wings/your own jet propulsion system that the other kids mocked you for at primary school but now a super villian is attacking the town hall and the smart yet ditzy and good looking mayor's aide is trapped inside and the only entrance is from the roof and oh if only there was a hero who could get inside and save her/take her out to dinner so WHO'S LAUGHING NOW? HUH? WHO'S LAUGHING NOW?
I think I may have wandered off point.
While it's certainly true that a 1,000,000 step journey does indeed begin with a single step, feeling proud of yourself after only one step when you've still got 999,999 steps to go is probably a bit premature. Don't get me wrong. I will walk 500 miles. And I think the sentiment behind the saying is that rather than worrying about the length of the journey, it's important to just get out there and start (Unless rather than the 500 mile/fall down at door scenario, you are referring to the plummeting cliff death scenario, in which case I heartily recommend NOT starting. Procrastination has it's merits, particuliarly in relation to falling off cliffs).
My brother and I have been planning a number of interactive game projects since we were about 5. This wasn't the only thing we made up, in our heads we created books, movies, tv shows, plays, and ocassionally adventures where we were (obviously) the stars. In many ways we've always been writers. Not necessarily GOOD writers, but writers nonetheless. I remember one of our earliest ideas was a sketch comedy tv show which featured a large amount of video game references (we liked video games, you see). A lot of the sketches we came up with have (fortunately) vanished into the mists of time like so much, um, mist, but what I can recall seems to largely consist of my brother being a lizard (not really for any humourous intent, he just likes lizards), and me walking into walls.
Fortunately we've greatly improved since then. Our current project is a modifcation for an existing game, which I am handling writing and level design/creation for. Every modifcation begins with a single step, and for me that step is that, in order for me to create and design the levels, I need to know how you create and design levels.
So I'm going through a dvd course at the moment, and in a nerdy/geeky (not dorky) kind of way, am finding it thoroughly fascinating. I'm currently playing through the main game we are working with (damn you, achievements) and it's quite interesting to see how it's put together. The first time I played through the thought generally running through my head was "Wow, look at the world they've *BANG!* built, it's incredible *RAAARGH!* how immersive *EXPLODE!* this game is." Now, the thought running through my head is "Interesting, *BLAM!* so they used this texture here, but *SLASH!* rotated it, and used a light field to *SPLATTER* create that shadow..." which certainly adds a rathe surreal air to it all, like an action game where you play as a chartered accountant who defends the galaxy while also doing his tax return.
The type of things you can get away with in a 3D engine is really rather ingenious, including the ability to create a scale model of, say, a mountain range, and being able to use this as a giant 3-dimensional background.
Yes I'm a nerd. But being a nerd is AWESOME.
(As a side note, the title of this blog was suggested by my good friend N3rd Girl, who runs a blog at http://n3rd-girl.blogspot.com/, which is very amusing. You should read it. You should read it now. I'll wait.)
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Movie Review Smorgasbord Round-up Extravaganza - The Complete Collection Part 5: Where The Wild Things Are
Since cinema began in the late ninteenth century, it has relied heavily on adapting existing media to the screen. It makes a great deal of sense, if you enjoyed a book it is hard not be excited when you hear that it is coming to the big screen (or - if you procrastinate too much and forget to go - the small screen). It's also arguably easier (but also arguably harder) than creating an original story, so the appeal is certainly there. This began with bringing plays and novels to celluloid, but has expanded over time (when a great product has come along, or the studios were feeling particularly lazy) to include television, toys, video games, comic books, songs, and bizarrely, theme park rides (I want to ask the person who thought that making Pirates of the Carribean into a movie was a good idea and ask them how they ever managed to convince a studio to do it, but he's probably too busy swimming in money to take my calls).
Adapting other mediums to film has always been a tricky affair. In many ways this is largely due to differences in length. A full length novel is sometimes too long, which can result in scenes being cut, characters being merged or dropped, or plot details changed due to timing requirements. On the other hand a short story can be far too short. The short story "The Killers" by Ernest Hemingway was adapted into a film in 1950 (funnily enough, called "The Killers") which opened with a word by word faithful translation of the short story, followed by an almost entirely unrelated film that they made up, adding a certain looseness to the term "adaptation". This was taken even further in the adaptation of the long running Mario Bros game series, which kept the names, and... actually that's about all they kept, in a plot that was otherwise unrelated, but with familiar titles from the series applied to unfamiliar objects.
Mind you, this works both ways, with novelisations of films getting fatter with newly added scenes that don't always flow well with the existing plot, (the main crime here is giving an internal monologue to characters that really didn't need one), and video games that contain a lot more shooting than was ever in the film (I don't recall Marty McFly doing quite so much jumping between floating platforms in Back to the Future part 2, but there you go).
Spike Jonze's adaptation of the children's picture book "Where The Wild Things Are" faces an issue because the source on which it is based is only 40 or so pages long, and only about 5-10 words on each page, meaning a near two hour film needs to be created out of only 400 words. Also, while it is undeniably a children's classic, it can't be denied that not a whole lot happens in it. It can be crudley summarised as "Boy gets sent to room, disappears on adventure (as you do), meets a whole lot of monsters and basically goes all British Empire on their arses, and then goes home and has dinner."
Now, there is far more to the story than this, and I have adored this story ever since I was five, but in terms of actual concrete events, this is about all that happens. So when adapting such a brief novel, the two choices appear to be "Make up a lot of extra stuff so more happens" or "do not much. Very, very slowly." So which did Where the Wild Things Are choose?
As it happens, both.
Where the Wild Things Are the film follows the basic premise of the story, but fleshes out a lot of the elements. Max (Our hero/strange kid) is now given a family and some reason for his behavior, and his encounter with the Wild Things expands to a full rise and fall of a kingdom. Each of the Wild Things has been given a separate personality and archetype, and now appear to embody certain characteristics of Max himself. There's the fun loving but easily enraged, the shy and low self esteem, the hard done by and put upon. All of Max's childlike facets are personified and expanded to alarming levels, until he is unable to cope with the results they produce.
However, there is still not a lot of plot to go around and many scenes cannot be given a clear and definitive action, instead only able to be summarised as "Max and the Wild Things run around a lot and have fun/are sad/are angry/tear each other's arms off, etc. etc." This means that the film is very slow at times, and in many cases functions more as a mood piece than as a traditional story. What it does do well, perhaps better than any other film, is capture the feeling and the logic of being a child. In the film, when things are good, things are very good, it's happy and everything goes well, with amazing plans and great adventures. But sometimes things happen. People get mad, and they get mad or angry for no other reason than that they do. There is a certain helplessness that comes accross, where the universe just doesn't go as planned, and there is nothing to be done.
It also features an ending that while satisfactory, is only so up to a point, but I suspect this is by design. It doesn't actually solve the problems presented in the story, these will still be there. But just for tonight, right now, everything is ok.
It's a thought provoking film, but in the end it doesn't quite succeed in telling a succinct and engaging story for the full duration, as its slow pace and brief plot leave long areas without substance.
Rating 3 out of 6.
- As a side note, I have changed the rating from out of 5 to out of 6, as with an odd number it is too easy to label every film as 3 out 5, neither good or bad. This way every film reviewed is either slightly good or slightly bad to lend a little more practicality to the proceedings.
Adapting other mediums to film has always been a tricky affair. In many ways this is largely due to differences in length. A full length novel is sometimes too long, which can result in scenes being cut, characters being merged or dropped, or plot details changed due to timing requirements. On the other hand a short story can be far too short. The short story "The Killers" by Ernest Hemingway was adapted into a film in 1950 (funnily enough, called "The Killers") which opened with a word by word faithful translation of the short story, followed by an almost entirely unrelated film that they made up, adding a certain looseness to the term "adaptation". This was taken even further in the adaptation of the long running Mario Bros game series, which kept the names, and... actually that's about all they kept, in a plot that was otherwise unrelated, but with familiar titles from the series applied to unfamiliar objects.
Mind you, this works both ways, with novelisations of films getting fatter with newly added scenes that don't always flow well with the existing plot, (the main crime here is giving an internal monologue to characters that really didn't need one), and video games that contain a lot more shooting than was ever in the film (I don't recall Marty McFly doing quite so much jumping between floating platforms in Back to the Future part 2, but there you go).
Spike Jonze's adaptation of the children's picture book "Where The Wild Things Are" faces an issue because the source on which it is based is only 40 or so pages long, and only about 5-10 words on each page, meaning a near two hour film needs to be created out of only 400 words. Also, while it is undeniably a children's classic, it can't be denied that not a whole lot happens in it. It can be crudley summarised as "Boy gets sent to room, disappears on adventure (as you do), meets a whole lot of monsters and basically goes all British Empire on their arses, and then goes home and has dinner."
Now, there is far more to the story than this, and I have adored this story ever since I was five, but in terms of actual concrete events, this is about all that happens. So when adapting such a brief novel, the two choices appear to be "Make up a lot of extra stuff so more happens" or "do not much. Very, very slowly." So which did Where the Wild Things Are choose?
As it happens, both.
Where the Wild Things Are the film follows the basic premise of the story, but fleshes out a lot of the elements. Max (Our hero/strange kid) is now given a family and some reason for his behavior, and his encounter with the Wild Things expands to a full rise and fall of a kingdom. Each of the Wild Things has been given a separate personality and archetype, and now appear to embody certain characteristics of Max himself. There's the fun loving but easily enraged, the shy and low self esteem, the hard done by and put upon. All of Max's childlike facets are personified and expanded to alarming levels, until he is unable to cope with the results they produce.
However, there is still not a lot of plot to go around and many scenes cannot be given a clear and definitive action, instead only able to be summarised as "Max and the Wild Things run around a lot and have fun/are sad/are angry/tear each other's arms off, etc. etc." This means that the film is very slow at times, and in many cases functions more as a mood piece than as a traditional story. What it does do well, perhaps better than any other film, is capture the feeling and the logic of being a child. In the film, when things are good, things are very good, it's happy and everything goes well, with amazing plans and great adventures. But sometimes things happen. People get mad, and they get mad or angry for no other reason than that they do. There is a certain helplessness that comes accross, where the universe just doesn't go as planned, and there is nothing to be done.
It also features an ending that while satisfactory, is only so up to a point, but I suspect this is by design. It doesn't actually solve the problems presented in the story, these will still be there. But just for tonight, right now, everything is ok.
It's a thought provoking film, but in the end it doesn't quite succeed in telling a succinct and engaging story for the full duration, as its slow pace and brief plot leave long areas without substance.
Rating 3 out of 6.
- As a side note, I have changed the rating from out of 5 to out of 6, as with an odd number it is too easy to label every film as 3 out 5, neither good or bad. This way every film reviewed is either slightly good or slightly bad to lend a little more practicality to the proceedings.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Cold Season. Flu Season. Rabbit Season. Duck Season!
About two weeks ago I noticed I was getting a cold. Normally I just go "oh rats," lay up for a couple of days and hope it goes away quickly, which it invariably does. This time I decided to take proactive action, dosed myself up on cold and flu medication and hoped it could be crushed before the cold I noticed decided to notice me. What a clever person I am, I thought to myself. Well, actually, no I didn't, I just sort of got on with things, but in my heart I thought that. Which is odd, because you normally think things with your head. But I'm a little strange.
As it turns out, taking proactive action was not as smart an idea as doing nothing at all (a comforting revelation to procrastinaters everywhere), as rather than being laid up for two days, I was sick for two weeks and off work for a week. The more medically astute of you will point out that dosing up on cold and flu tablets probably held it in check better than if I hadn't, and in fact, the cold would have been much worse.
I'm an educated man and it's a sad day when I can think of no more apt retort than "So's your face," so today is indeed a sad day.
So's your face.
I went to the doctor last Wednesday (and remembered his name this time too, natch) and he put me on antibiotics, but a friend also recommended that I take garlic, vitamin c and ginger tablets to help combat some of the symptoms and boost the immune system so after the chemist I headed down to the supermarket. While browsing through I encountered a number of worrying labels affixed proudly to packets of cold and flu medication.
One packet told me in a confident sounding voice that their product "May reduce the duration of your cold by half!" Call me crazy (and so's your face), but when I purchase medication, I'd like to know that it WILL help me with my cold. If it only MAY help me, I'd rather buy a cupcake. That also MAY help me with my cold, and also it's a cupcake. Everybody wins.
Another packet was very pleased to inform me that their fruit extract had been "Clinically Trialled." Think about that for a moment. Clinically trialled. Not Clinically proven. Trialled. In other words, all they are confirming is that tests have been performed. They are not in any way confirming that the tests showed it actually worked. For all we know, it may have been shown that it was less useful than a red dead haddock, and I'm guessing that is in fact the case, as if it had been shown to be helpful, they probably would told us that.
So I passed on those two and instead selecting a packet that, while it made no promises, was at least not suggesting ambiguity. And as I am back at work today, it does seem to have been excellent.
So's your face.
Wait...
As it turns out, taking proactive action was not as smart an idea as doing nothing at all (a comforting revelation to procrastinaters everywhere), as rather than being laid up for two days, I was sick for two weeks and off work for a week. The more medically astute of you will point out that dosing up on cold and flu tablets probably held it in check better than if I hadn't, and in fact, the cold would have been much worse.
I'm an educated man and it's a sad day when I can think of no more apt retort than "So's your face," so today is indeed a sad day.
So's your face.
I went to the doctor last Wednesday (and remembered his name this time too, natch) and he put me on antibiotics, but a friend also recommended that I take garlic, vitamin c and ginger tablets to help combat some of the symptoms and boost the immune system so after the chemist I headed down to the supermarket. While browsing through I encountered a number of worrying labels affixed proudly to packets of cold and flu medication.
One packet told me in a confident sounding voice that their product "May reduce the duration of your cold by half!" Call me crazy (and so's your face), but when I purchase medication, I'd like to know that it WILL help me with my cold. If it only MAY help me, I'd rather buy a cupcake. That also MAY help me with my cold, and also it's a cupcake. Everybody wins.
Another packet was very pleased to inform me that their fruit extract had been "Clinically Trialled." Think about that for a moment. Clinically trialled. Not Clinically proven. Trialled. In other words, all they are confirming is that tests have been performed. They are not in any way confirming that the tests showed it actually worked. For all we know, it may have been shown that it was less useful than a red dead haddock, and I'm guessing that is in fact the case, as if it had been shown to be helpful, they probably would told us that.
So I passed on those two and instead selecting a packet that, while it made no promises, was at least not suggesting ambiguity. And as I am back at work today, it does seem to have been excellent.
So's your face.
Wait...
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Movie Review Smorgasbord Round-up Extravaganza - The Complete Collection Part 4: Ponyo
Japanese Animation (or Anime if you're in the club) has always been a bit of a mixed bag, and I've always found the idea of declaring oneself to be a fan of Anime is about as silly as declaring yourself to be a fan of film, as the source material is simply too broad. When I say I adore watching films, I should clarify and say I adore watching good films. This is one of the reasons that genre as a study is a misleading topic. To like Westerns in general for example seems to imply that topic is more important than quality. To me, any topic is worth watching, so long as the film itself is good to watch, though it can't be denied that some topics are harder to produce quality with than others (I would watch a My Little Pony film if it was a great movie, but I find it quite unlikely that there will ever be a great My Little Pony film). The same applies to Anime. There are exceedingly good Anime that is up there with the finest of films (Neon Genesis, Cowboy Bebop, Teknoman, Ghost In the Shell), but there is also Anime that is badly written, poorly directed, and embarrasing to watch (Generally any anime film with a rating of 'R', you have to be seriously gruesome or explicit for a cartoon to reach these levels).
Anime has always been a niche market to Western audiences, and largely this is because there are certain stylistic differences between Anime and your stereotypical American/European movie. The first is the sense of humour. While there is definately humour that both cultures understand equally, we also have our own unique styles that each nation enjoys differently. The lines have been blurring between Australia, the UK, and the US, but Japan as a seperate nation with it's own language has remained a stronger sylistic identity.
The second, and slightly stranger difference is that the Japanese are a lot more comfortable with silence than we are. Music features far less prominently in Anime, and as a result many long, slightly uncomfortable silences are present in their films, lending a quiet, almost unearthly air to many of the anime I have seen (the big exception is Cowboy Bebop, which uses an abundance of music to amazing effect). From what I can work out, this isn't the case for Japanese audiences, this is simply how their films are made. English dubs have either preserved these silences as is or filled them with meaningless chatter, crickets, faint background music, general murmering, or unfortunately in the majority of occassions with loud breaths or odd little gasps from the main character, which if anything is more uncomfortable than actual silence.
But I must confess I do still enjoy many Anime, particularly the work of Hayao Miyazake and Studio Ghibli. Miyazake's most recent film Ponyo was released late last year onto dvd. It features all the usual Ghibli trademarks (Young protagonist, flying, general sense of wonder, strange giant floods and giant fish, you know), but where it lacks in originality it does make up for in charm and a general level of amusement. Visually the film is a treat, using an unusual watercolour effect producing a vibrant look that is sadly lacking from many other Anime films.
It does feature the usual long silences, and the humour is a little odd in places, but it still made me grin.
Rating: 5 out of 5 if you're an anime nut, 3.5 out of 5 for everyone else.
Anime has always been a niche market to Western audiences, and largely this is because there are certain stylistic differences between Anime and your stereotypical American/European movie. The first is the sense of humour. While there is definately humour that both cultures understand equally, we also have our own unique styles that each nation enjoys differently. The lines have been blurring between Australia, the UK, and the US, but Japan as a seperate nation with it's own language has remained a stronger sylistic identity.
The second, and slightly stranger difference is that the Japanese are a lot more comfortable with silence than we are. Music features far less prominently in Anime, and as a result many long, slightly uncomfortable silences are present in their films, lending a quiet, almost unearthly air to many of the anime I have seen (the big exception is Cowboy Bebop, which uses an abundance of music to amazing effect). From what I can work out, this isn't the case for Japanese audiences, this is simply how their films are made. English dubs have either preserved these silences as is or filled them with meaningless chatter, crickets, faint background music, general murmering, or unfortunately in the majority of occassions with loud breaths or odd little gasps from the main character, which if anything is more uncomfortable than actual silence.
But I must confess I do still enjoy many Anime, particularly the work of Hayao Miyazake and Studio Ghibli. Miyazake's most recent film Ponyo was released late last year onto dvd. It features all the usual Ghibli trademarks (Young protagonist, flying, general sense of wonder, strange giant floods and giant fish, you know), but where it lacks in originality it does make up for in charm and a general level of amusement. Visually the film is a treat, using an unusual watercolour effect producing a vibrant look that is sadly lacking from many other Anime films.
It does feature the usual long silences, and the humour is a little odd in places, but it still made me grin.
Rating: 5 out of 5 if you're an anime nut, 3.5 out of 5 for everyone else.
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