Rethought

Oh, Pickwick, thank god for you. Here I was staring at my blank wordpress page trying to shake something coherent out to no avail before thinking, “I wonder what everyone else is blogging about.” Everyone else turned out to be you, and what with our doing the same thing this weekend – being born years ago – I figured I’d just rip off your post. Apologies and thanks.

Someone told me once that there are two types of people born in January – the really cynical ones who were born too close to Christmas and New Year, and the stupidly happy ones who were born just far enough away from those events to have a third even devoted to themselves.

Nonsense. They forgot us middle children of January who haven’t quite recovered enough from a busy festive period to really get into being the centre of attention for a day or so. This breeds the socially retiring January who really just wants to lie down for a while and watch genre TV. (Note: I don’t actually believe in your date of birth  having a particularly determining role in forming your personality. That would be stupid.)

All said, my birthday was a lot of fun, and thanks to all who came out. You should all get blogs that I could link people to! Turns out Blackfriars is a fairly decent pub, which is good as I chose it essentially at random. The music they played downstairs was a lot of fun. Pretty sure I didn’t hear anything written after 1965.  Seriously, folks, thanks again. Great time.

I’ve been thinking about what I should do with this blog, my twitter and other internetish things. They’re all amazingly useful tools to exposure for just about anything I write (Which means I better be careful about what I publish…) so I need to start using them properly.

Starting from the next time I have some new comics, I’ll create a second page for Overthoughts dedicated to comic book reviews, aiming to do them bi-weekly. Now and again I’ll review something else – manga, a TV show or film that catches my eye, and maybe a few essays about comics and the industry in general could crop up. This page will replace the current “Sick” page, which was essentially me in a white hot fury over social misanthropes. In future, any rage I have over members of society will be on the front page for all to see. That means you, Pat Robertson.

Also, Matthew suggests I go ahead and write up a Superman film script. For kicks. Please don’t agree with him or I might have to do it…

Thanks for reading when I post, it means a lot. Hope I keep you interested!

Talentless

How talented are you? At what? And how do you know? Maybe it’s because I watched Glee last night, or perhaps because my little sister’s Art teacher is proving that complete mental retardation isn’t an impediment to a stable career or even the ability to speak, or maybe – just maybe – it’s because I’m scared I’m not talented at all.

I like to write. I can’t help writing half the time, things just pop into my head. From comic book plots to films and even the occasional poem (which I’d rather die than show anyone. I’m not poetically talented, I’ll admit to that one).

I know I’m not particularly talented at my job. I’ll never be subtitler of the year and funnily enough I think I’ll survive. I’m not musically gifted – I pretty much sucked at guitar while forcing myself to learn. Athletically? Don’t even go there. Unless it involves moving heavy objects or perhaps running a great distance, I’m hopeless. I’m not artistic, either. I’m lucky I can draw breath never mind a landscape.

But sometimes I think I can write. I’ll surprise myself with a turn of phrase and then feel good about that for a few hours. II look at stories and characters – some I’ve created, some I haven’t – and I think I can see how they interact with other stories and characters and even the world in general. I think I can be convincing, when I put my mind to it (although I have to spend a lot of time over it…). I think I’d make a reasonable journalist and I even think I make a half-decent blogger, when I keep up with it. But I can’t be sure. The horrifying thing that occurs to me is that the only decider of that is success, and I can’t be a successful writer in my head or on my notepad. I can’t sit in my room and type into the wee hours of the morning, assured that every word is solid gold. Frankly, my own opinion doesn’t matter that much to me. When it comes to something like writing, I pretty much have to put it out there if I want any measure of my own ability.

Hence, bloggery. Before the new year post, I hadn’t blogged in ages. It’d be easy for me to put it down to working a lot or general fatigue or something, but that’s not the case. Not really. Ultimately, I’ve never been sure if what I was posting was a waste of time or not. I have this bizarre compulsion in my head that says I have to do something one day that that matters. In italics. And, sometimes, I just wasn’t sure that the blog did.

It did matter, though, and it still does. It matters if only because I want to write it, and have, and that’s good. More than that, writing isn’t something I’m talented at, not really. It’s something I can become talented at. I don’t love writing because I’m good at it, but maybe one day I can be good at it because i love doing it.

To that end, I’m asking for your help. Harass the hell out of me to blog. If you can beat me into once a week, that would be awesome. Otherwise, bi-weekly will do. Anything you think it’d be good to see me write about? Leave it in the comments! And in return, if there’s anything I can ever do for you to help you do the things you love, then you need only ask.

Like clockwork…

I know. Just reading this, your cliche-o-meter is going haywire. It’s an end of year post. A round-up of the year’s big events or a statement of intent for the year to come. Regular as clockwork. It feels like it’s been on my to-do list: Buy Christmas presents – check. Wrap Christmas presents – check. Apply for JET – check. Tape Doctor Who – check. Evaluate my performance, personally and professionally over 2009 and set appropriate targets and ambitions for 2010, including contingency plans for if you don’t get JET and getting on the right footing for potential careers and moving out – um…rain check?

There is something about the end of one year and the beginning of another that is inherently depressing. Of all the ways we measure out our time – seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months…it’s the years that seem to matter most. The collections of years are too big to dwell on, too much happens in a decade to properly remember and analyse without being paid to do so by a media conglomerate. Years, though. Years are easily broken down and analysed and obsessed over…

Part of me thinks it’s S.A.D amped up to 100. It’s not just your surroundings that’s going dark, it’s this convenient little measurement of time you’ve been existing in. And at the start, we convince ourselves that December is the time limit. Everything we want to do has to be achieved in 12 months or it’s a wash. I had this notion that I’d come online and write my obligatory New Year blog entry. I didn’t know what I’d write apart from a particularly gloomy thing I said to a friend in work today  - “All the ambitions you had for 2009 die tonight whether you achieved them or not.”

Well, pardon me for cheating, but I’m moving the goalposts. No one ever said we have to do it in a year. Hell, a lot of you reading this will be thinking  ”Idiot, why’d he only give himself a year?” It’d be a valid question. It’s not the time that matters, it’s the achievement, and the will to get there. Ever since high school, my favourite quote has been an old Chinese one that turns up in just about every language, never losing its truth “Failure lies not in falling down, but in not getting back up again.”

So that’s my New Year post. No round up. No “I didn’t do this or that” or whatever. I’m still here and not one of the ambitions I’ve ever had in my life is dead unless I say it is. The show ain’t over kids, it pretty much isn’t until you’re dead. So come on, don’t think of tomorrow as 2010. It’s just Friday, and you’ve got plenty more of those coming up. Look forward to them, do stuff with them, and the stuff you don’t get done one Friday, do on the Saturday. Do your best, but not too much. And have a happy New Year.

The window seat

Why the hell didn’t she take the window seat?

It’s something I’ve been trying to fathom for the past few days and can’t quite work it out. I’ll start at the beginning. I recently had to go to London for a work thing, and was flown down. My workmate checked us in online, where you can have your choice of available seats. She had told me before that she is a “Window seat nazi” and as such was taking it. This was fine, for being as tall as I am, the extra legroom I can steal on an isle seat can be useful. Still, I knew I’d stare straight past her and out of her little window every chance I got.

The flight to London was exactly as above – she had the window, I had the isle. On the way back however, she steps back when we reach our seats and says “Go on, you take it this time.” Excuse me? All due respect, but are you out of your mind? Giving up the window seat. Seriously. Just like that. I just don’t see how someone can do that.

I’ve always loved airports, and flying even more. I’ll take your 8 hour flight for the few minutes of take-off any day. The excitement starts when, looking from the window, you can see the plane edge closer and closer to the runway, tax-ing slowly. Eventually it straightens up, and the engines get louder and a slight vibration runs through the plane. Your last warning comes entirely too late – the engine noise fills your ears and the pressure on the small of your back lets you know that jet fuel is being burned to launch you into the sky. You sit still as the world tilts backwards, and the world gets farther and farther away….it’s not long before all you can see is white cloud and raindrops being dragged screaming across your window. If you’re very lucky, a little screen pops down to tell you that your altitude is 18000 feet and rising.

Now the clouds are below you, along with the rest of the world, and even clear blue skies and white clouds become a wonder.

At this point, my neck begins to hurt. I’ve been sitting up straight with my head twisted down and to the right for a few minutes, and can’t seem to turn away from the blue outside. But dammit, then I noticed the wing! The adjustable wings on this airplane moved into a more aerodynamic position and filled my head with, apart from visions of Macross Plus, pride. Someone came up with that. Someone human, with all the flaws and promise the state contains. We lie, steal and cheat. We’re arrogant and vain. We’re violent and blow each other up, sometimes spectacularly. But we can fly. It’s crude and noisy and not as cape based as I’d like, but it’s a start.

What else can we do? Well, we put a man on the moon and returned him safely. A few men in fact. What’s after that? Mars? And then…?

I’ve seen the argument made that no country should be putting the money it does into space exploration because there are people on earth who are still hungry and homeless, even in the wealthiest of countries .  Funny how advancement of technology and the human spirit of exploration has to be put on the backburner, and not nuclear weapons, not-nuclear-but-still-blow-up-damn-good weapons and, dare I be controversial, MPs expenses.

We don’t spend billions on space and flight technology just for the potential gains. Although the advancements made by NASA, such as solar power technology and artificial limbs have benifited society greatly. Why we do it, part of why we do it anyway, is because we can. To make sure that we can, and to see what we can do next. Wheels, horse-pulled wheels, engines, jet engines, rocket engines…what’s next?

I love the window seat.

Quis Custodiet ipos custodes? Or the Pros and Cons of Vigilantism

I had an interesting night last night. I say interesting, closer to infuriating.  A friend of mine questioned the judgement of a doorman in our local club. He was in the right, and wasn’t confrontational at all about it, just trying to reason with the gentleman at the door. For this, he was punched in the face. His brother, when trying to break up this fight, was grabbed by the throat, and both thrown out. Cue chaos. A few months before this, another friend of mine was confronted with a similar situation. “He just hit me”, the doorman said with a smile, 5 ft away from my friend. Needless to say, the wrath of Glasgow doormen came upon my friend with the conviction of the righteous.

If you know your comic books – or your Latin – you’ll have translated the above as “Who watches the Watchmen?” A reasonable question, especially when our watchmen operate outwith the rules they are meant to uphold. Studies claim the police force to be institutionally racist. Soldiers torture in the name of peace. Even our bankers, trusted with the finances of the nation, show as much monetary sense as a 5 year old in a sweet shop. A rich 5 year old. Unfortunately, too many of those in positions of responsibility aren’t the equal of what is asked of them. More unfortunate still is that there is often no one to bring them in line. At least not until its too late.

The solution? Vigilantism. MASKED vigilantism. Ok, maybe not masked, but that’d be cool. If people aren’t gong to do their jobs right, and right the wrongs of the world according to myopinions, I’m gonna do it. I know whats right, don’t I? I know not to steal, lie or cheat. I know when someone has wronged me and mine, and I know just how to respond. In fact, I don’t think there’s a person in the land more qualified to dispense justice than I am. But I wont launch a campaign or anything like that, I’ll just keep myself right. I know a criminal? I should just pop him one every now and again. Guy breaks into my house? Well I’ll just break right back into his. And mess stuff up a bit. In fact, I hear there’s a paedophile down the street. I have some friends who would want in on this, good people.  We can sort this out better than the courts did, 4 years is nothing for what he did…

The scary thing about the above paragraph is that you can almost understand it. Why wouldn’t you want to take matters into your own hands if you’re sureyou know what should be done?  Why wouldn’t you make sure justice was done? In his book The Year of Living Biblically, A J Jacobs talks a little about this.  In his quest to live for a year as close to biblical rules as he could, Jacobs must stone an adulterer. Eventually, he finds an idea target for this stoning, and bombards the reprobate with small pebbles and stones. “I cant deny, it felt good to chuck a rock at this nasty old man. It felt primal. It felt like I was getting vengeance on him. This guy wasn’t just an adulterer, he was a bully. And I wanted him to feel the pain he’d inflicted on others, even if that pain was just a tap on the chest”.

Vengance. It looks cool in film titles, but ugly in action. It looks like justice, twisted by anger into something nasty and self replicating. A little mental virus passed on from person to person through a variety of different acts, none of which help anyone. It almostlooks like justice. Sometimes, if you squint. but its not. The bible says “an eye for an eye”, but as Jacobs discovers in his book, not even the old testament meant that literally. The interpretation offered by Jacobs is that when a wrong is committed, something must be done to balance this. An eye doesn’t need to be taken out to pay for an eye, something of equal value will do just fine. How much jail time is an eye worth? How much community service? Who decides?

I’ve heard that if you called a referendum on the death penalty in this country that it would be a landslide victory in favour.  That we’d say its ok to kill people sometimes, if we think they’re bad enough. We’re right, righteous, and they are despicable. Hey, the two most powerful countries in the world do it, why not us?

Because we’re better than that. Better than vengeance, better than fury and better than final judgements. We stand up and say “no, that is wrong”, and we do notpunctuate that by carrying out the same crime. We don’t use death to condemn killing, and we don’t steal what has been stolen. Vengeance isn’t justice, its just vengeance.

Sometimes our rules don’t work, and the people in charge of them don’t work right either. But its better than nothing. Laws that fall down on human error are better than no laws at all. We cant regulate for every aspect of human nature or possibilities therein, but we can do our best. We try to cover our bases, knowing that someone, somewhere, will be treated unfairly because of this, but that someone else is protected by it. We hope for forgiveness for the lives we make harder, and take comfort in the ones we’ve made better. Most of all, we know that we are not perfect, and that we have to try harder. We keep the faith that there is always a better way, and all we have to do is find it.

I will of course enforce this worldview by any means necessary. Because i think I’m right. Might want to keep an eye on me…

10 Awesome things (part 2)

Ok, continuing my by no means exhaustive and in-no-particular-order list of things of things I think are cool…

The West Wing

Quite simply the best television I’ve ever seen, and I watch alot of television. I got the West Wing box set for christmas, and am nearing the end of series 2. One of the quotes on the box says something like “this is the white house, if run with diginity, honour and courage”. Maybe its adding to my evident support for Barack Obama, but watching this show really does give me a better idea about what the real principles were that America was founded on, and a clearer view of that it has and has still to achieve.  From a television perspective its more awesome till – the ensemble cast is pretty much flawless, each actor or actress playing their part perfectly and leaving no doubt in your mind as to their casting. I once described the west wing to someone as a show about very smart people saying very smart things at very high speed, so here’s a small example to finish off http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=FScv89J6rro

Sundays

I used to hate Sundays. They were these long, boring, drawn out days where nothing would happen. I’d pace my house or go a walk, but couldnt ever be satisfied that I’d done something. Sometimes I’d be feeling rough from the night before so not only was I bored, I felt ill or tired. This past while though, I’ve gained a new appreciation for Sunday. Sunday is the day before you go back to work, so its good that its long and drawn out. Sunday is a day where nothing happens, so you can do whatever you want. This afternoon I watched the Breakfast Club (surprisingly good film) with my little sister, and then watched the West Wing.  Now I’m writing a blog, and later tonight I imagine I’ll read or go to my friends’ house. Then I’ll sleep. Sundays are long, and nothing has to happen. Sundays are great.

The Fear, when applied correctly

The fear I’m talking about is the one just short of mortal and physical danger. Its your heart on the line, your dignity, your respect. Its the feeling you get before you talk in front of a large group of strangers (or a small group of friends. its the fear you get at job interviews. I always remember it as the feeling I got before asking out a girl I liked. Its horrible, really horrible, but damn if it doesnt feel good to beat it. Not one girl ever said yes, but it felt good anyway, knowing I’d sone something that I didnt have to, but totally had to. Its not the biggest fear in the world, and its not the hardest to overcome. Its the kind of fear you choose to feel when you choose to do something personally risky. This fear is good, and nothing to be frightened of.

Quinn

Quinn is a mate of mine. A good mate actually. Just as I could have easily filled this blog with ten amazing songs or peices of music, I could just as easily fill it with ten awesome people I know, but I’m just gonna go with Quinn for now. Quinn and I are pretty different in alot of ways.I’m tall with blonde hair and pretty quiet, Quinn is shorter with dark hair and is brilliant socially. We dont go out one on one very often, and seem to have pretty different outlooks. Quinn is one of the friendliest guys I know. He’s honest and does his best, and he’s a good friend. I hope I’m not too different from him.

Proud Geeks

Comics are cool. Anime and manga is cool. Cosplayer? Awesome. Trekkie? Go for it. Film fan? Foreign film fan? Lets talk. Book geek? Stamp collector? Trainspotter? Ornithologist? You all rule. Take whatever it is you love, and shout about it. Write about it. People will read it. Hell, you’re reading this, arent you?

10 Awesome Things (part one)

I read this articletoday on the Herald website.  They asked their colunists and photographers for one thing that they thought made life worth living, and came up with a list of 25 things that make life great. Here are a few of mine, with a bit of explanation. I’d love to read yours too, so feel free to comment with a few!

In no particular order…

Music

An easy, obvious one, I grant you. But there’s a reason its obvious and easy. I could probably do ten different paragraphs on ten awesome songs that that would be enough for this entry, but I’ll condense it as much as is possible.  I think i did a blog entry on music a long while ago, before I failed spectacularly at updating. I just spent the last half hour looking up old songs I loved when I was younger, and ones I didn’t care much for when I was younger but love now.  Alot of people will talk about songs as being like a trigger, but I think they’re more like a bullet. Once fired, a song will go through your mind till it finds just the right point, the right neuron to fire and synapse to stimulate. Some pass right through unspectacularly, taking only a few minutes your life and hearing with them. Others though, others get stuck. One might get stuck in your arm, you get tense and clench a fist out of excitement or anger, a crescendo or drumbeat making your blood flow. One might hit your leg and make you want to run or dance. Some get your right between the eyes and have you thinking for hours, throwaway lyrics multiply in your head like philosophical bacteria until you’ve gotten a new slant on life from a few seconds of a single track. More songs than enough will hit your heart.

To Kill a Mockingbird

I know, going from the blanket heading of  “music” to an individual book isnt very generous to music, but like I said, I did a blog post on it so it gets less screen time. This list will probably be odd in that regard. Anyway, this book floors me. Its like a manual on courage and conviction and decency. I’ll never forget reading the last page of part two. Atticus is explaining to his son why he sent him to wait on a mean old woman who had no kind words to say for him. The old woman was dying, and Atticus’ reason for sending his son to see her every day will stick in my memory till I die. Go read it.

Superman

Yeah, you knew it was coming, what of it? My liking for Superman is practically a joke about me. A cliche and around number 3 on the list of “obvious things to know about Stephen”, missing the number 1 spot of “his name is stephen” and number two of “he is tall”. Someone asked me once why I spent so much damn money on comics. She could see much better ways to spend that money. To her, what I had just spent was a new belt. To me though, it was a number of things. Escapism for one. Part three of six for another.  But more than anything, it was hope. Naive, childish, brilliant hope, and wonder, and the belief for a period of time that I was the equal of any challenge in the world. How this fictional character grew to have that effect on me, I couldnt tell you. Dont care to investigate it too much to be honest. I could go into details about the portrayal of the character in the current comics. The moral fortitude, the grace, the iron will. When it comes down to it though, the only thing that matters is this – He’s the good guy. The ultimate good guy. And he stops the badguys. So the John Williams theme tune makes me stand taller and I kinda want a cape.  I like my glasses. I might even think it’d be kinda cool to be a journalist. The coolest thing for me is that I just want to be one of the good guys.

Coffee

Another obvious one if you know me well enough. I do love my coffee. Although I start my day with it, I’ve never really found it perks me up. I can drink coffee and night and sleep like a baby. No, the best thing about coffee for me is that its an excuse. An excuse to meet friends, or sit back in a comfortable chair or read or watch TV. A delicious excuse I grant you, but it wouldnt taste as good without the extras. Venti latte, no stress, little bit of comic reading and half an hour to myself. Marvellous.

Writing

I dont mean the physical act of pencil to paper. That actually gives me cramp in my hand. No, I mean the process. The moments where the ideas go off like fireworks in a firework factory next to a timber yard. Whn what you were tying to think of just unfolds in your head like its always been there and you finally get the little lightbulb above your head like in cartoons. The moments that keep you smiling for the rest of the day, because you know you got that line justright. Even when I do have to note it down, pushing past the hand cramp, there’s something great in seeing it in front of you, ink on paper. The ideas in your head pulled out and tied down. This is closely followed by the gut wrenching terror of someone actually reading what you’ve written. Aft er that comes either relief or redraft and with the really good critics, you get both. I love writing and I dont do it enough. Hassle me about that ok?

Ok, thats five done! I’ll post again soon with another five, in a clever plot to make sure I update twice in quick succession. I have Matt to thank for that one (thanks Matt)

And again, please comment with some of your favourite things!

Heisenberg Reflection or the Inverse Quantum Observer Effect

I’m watching you.

But please, please please, dont change on my account. Dont define yourself just because someone is looking for definition in you, or through you. There are lots of names for it – globalisation, interdependancy, sociology etc. People are interacting more than ever before. Across the world, across their country. Across the street. They say that no man is an island, but a few people can be an archipeligo.

With everyone so close to each other nowadays – mobile phones and the internet being the greatest facilitators – its no wonder people are defining themselves more starkly than ever before. Its a post-modern trait, or so I was told at uni. Dividing things up, labeling them, categorising them and numbering them, listing them in various orders and headings so that one man’s one is another man’s one hundred. Everything divided so that nothing crosses. Individuality is maintained. Its not quite good enough nowadays to be part of the crowd, or so the crowd says. Its not good enough to not be fantastic. Exceptional. Extra-Ordinary.

Why are things like this? Thats a tough question, and one I dont think I’m the equal of. What I think I can say though, is the how. How it got this way, how it stays this way.

 Its the media. Its our entertainment, our own abyss and it has gazed also.

 The tendency to label and seperate has been around for alot longer than our most popular shows nowadays, but these modern shows just underline this tendency, surround it with lightbulbs like a dressing room mirror and show it to us with our own faces on. Then it has the audacity to tell us that its “reality”. Yes, thats right. I’ve suckered you straight into a rant about reality television. For the next few paragraphs at least.

The problem with reality television is that its entirely too real and 100% imaginary at the same time. We use television primarily for entertainment, and for the majority of its use, television has been used to broadcast mainly fiction. But then reality TV creeps in. People like you and me on television. But dammit, the second they’re on television, they stop being people like you and me. They become those people. People on television. Stars. Celebrities. Idols. And so we watch, and see ourselves become idols for other people to emulate. You watched this show to see something real, and its turned you into itself. You have its haircut, listen to its music, read its books and magazines. The real people you watched stopped being real the second you watched them, and now, you are the watched. By writers, advertisers, tv studios, newspapers, everything. You are watched to see how you react, and the world around you is slightly changed to make you react more favourably. To make you want to be so much like those former real people, that’d you’d give anything to get there.

The girl from your class who had a good voice is now that girl who tried out for pop idol. That guy who loved playing football is gonna be the next wayne rooney. You can feel it. Creative girl? Renouned artist. Writer guy? Best selling author. Class chav? Front page criminal. Everyone is gonna be big. Everyone is special, and are going to do great things.

But some people dont. Some people are the ones who didnt quite make it. The almost done its. The nearly theres. And according to the media, that makes them not good enough. No prizes for second place, oh no. but there are consequences.

Thats what I’m writing this about, really. The consequences. I dont mind reality TV in general. I change the channel. But between that, myspace music sensations and youtube stars, there is this growing idea that everyone has to be famous, somehow. Worhol was nearly right, he just didnt figure that some people might never get their 15 minutes, but kill themselves looking for it.

Not everyone becomes a star, and for some people thats just devestating. That doesnt just mean the celebrity wannabes. Not everyone is after the limelight in such an obvious way. But with everyone nowadays there seems to be this need to stand out, and when you’re not standing out, you’re not there. if you find out you cant stand out on your own, you stand out with a group. Better than nothing, right? So we split up again. We become goths, emos, ravers, neds, indie kids, rock fans, football fans and everything else. In the face of an expanding world and life experience your identity is more important than ever, so you get it from somewhere else if you dont trust your own quite enough.

So much of these identities are attached to the media we consume. The above list was primarily made up of music differences, which makes sense with music being the most obviously subdivided form of media out there. Probably not a coincidence that its the most popular either. Its not just music though, its everything. Everything is an influence. Take a look at your media, your loves and passions, and take a look at yourself. of course you’re going to be pulled to the things that ring truest with you, but how much are you pulled in by something and convinced of its truth? On the quantum level, you cant measure something without changing it, and its just the same on the social level. It becomes a sort of sociological self fulfilling prophecy where the label given to a person changes their behaviour to match the description as closely as possible.

This isnt some blanket statement on society. This doesnt happen to everyone, and its certainly not that cut and dry. But it is happening more and more, and on different scales and settings. Conservative or liberal? Democrat or Republican? Christian or Muslim?

Organisation is fine. Belonging to a group is fine. Categorisation, is fine. But its the absolutism thats the worrying part. The Finality and the expectations. When people join a group, and are described by their “membership”, how can that one word possibly cover everything they are? “emo” or “ned” is one thing, but when its things like “christian” and “muslim”, thats quite another. People are massively contradictory beings, and cant be understood by single terms alone. But thats exactly whats happening, and its generating really, really negative environments and ideas. The Polarisation in the world is evident, with religious aspect to politics and wars taking centre stage. Young men and women of various religions are seeing themselves only through that lense, only in that context, and only seeing others in through that context as well. The result? Suicide bombings. The Westborough Baptist Church. Extremists of every shape and size, clinging to one world view mainly out of fear of the growing choice of them.

Our pop culture is of the fantastic. The message we’re getting is Everyone Has to be Special. When this is channeled positively, it can drive people on to do amazing things. On the other side though, there are people struggling with the idea, the competition, the desire for importance. The message we should be getting is that everyone IS special. We are all capable of greatness and and of ourselves, individually, not the greatness we are told to aspire to. its a catch 22 – The one thing we all have in common is that we’re all unique. We belong to one, huge, diverse and fascinating group, 6.6 billion members, 6.6 billion stars on a massive stage. Sometimes we get so caught up in other people’s light, that we forget our own. They reflect on us, and we dim down and bask in their glow, and forget that someone might want or even need ours.

Earlier I mentioned the abyss, but its not an abyss at all. Its a bright, brilliant light, and its coming out of everyone. Other people can be great examples, but they cant be objectives or end points. Ultimately, its all down to you. And if you think about it properly? You’re a star.

New York – Part Three

Everywhere you look in New York you see buildings that seem to go up and up and never stop. Its easy, when surrounded by man made giants, to overlook the natural giants that have been there all the time.

In the heart of maybe the greatest city in the world, there is approximately 1.32 square miles of green grass, trees and lakes. We started our last full day in New York’s Central Park. Fortunately, there was no sign of clouds or David Blaine, the sun split the sky. First stop – The zoo! yes, 22 and 23 years old we may be, but there was still something awesome about polar bears up close. It seems even animals from across the world gather in New York.

We walked around the park for hours, and could have walked for hours more. It is simply vast. My favourite thing about it though was just before we left. Standing beside a baseball diamond, we got a good view. A very good view.

trees and skylines

It really felt like you were in the heart of the city. True, the name Central Park kind of gives that away, but its when you look around that you really feel  it. Buildings on every side of you. New York is, frankly, mental. This seems to be the place to relax. Everything in the city is reaching higher all the time, from people to buildings, but here its fine just to be on the ground.

Now, I’m totally going to advertise for TGI Fridays here. I had a steak. I had an awesome steak. We wanted something typically american for our last meal in american, and nothing said “USA!” quite like a large steak and pint of beer. We had no idea what to do after dinner, however. We thought as far as “go on the roof of the hotel” and then maybe move on. When we got there however, we met some guys from Toronto.

Every year, they do a guys trip somewhere, and this year was NY’s turn. They all had weekend names, and it took till the end of the night to learn their real ones. We talked most to a guy called Glenn (took a few hours to find that out). Turns out he has family in Aberdeen and has been to Scotland a few times.  I cant get over that actually. I go to a city with more people than my own country and find a canadian talking about the price of fish suppers. One of his friends, “charlie” had a few things in common with us too. Charlie had been to Japan for three years teaching – something people who know me will know I intend to do too. Craig got talking to him too, and it turns out they’re in the same profession.

We hung out with the guys for most of the night, went to dinner with them to an italian place where we were given a particularly potent shot called either Raffa or Rappa. Anyway, it is not an experience I’d wish on any man, woman or murderer. Steer clear. After dinner, most of the boys went down to the meat packing district, but Glenn decided to come with craig and I for a drink before heading back to the hotel. He told us about his life, his wife and children, what he does for a living, and how much he hates it when people think Canada is run by America. He tutored us in how to properly mimic a Canadian accent, and did a pretty good scottish one himself.

On getting back to the hotel, we decided on one last drink on the roof. It was around 12am at this point, and we’d been walking all day. Just started a bottle of beer, and I’m talking. I realise that craig isnt talking back,and find him on the right side of unconcious, still clutching his untouched beer, bottle upright. We were tired, and needed sleep. We said our goodnights to the city, and it said goodnight in return. It was gonna stay up for a while.

Goodnight

New York, Part two

Now I’m not usually one for Bagels. Sure, I’ve eaten them before, but its not like they’re a staple of the Sutherland diet. So imagine my surprise to find Pax. The average American will be reading this like I’m a starry eyed idiot, but man, we loved this place. Pax is a chain store specialising in essentially breakfast food. Every morning we’d stumble in, and ask for two bagels with cream cheese and bacon, toasted. Add a large coffee and there you have the breakfast of Champions. And it was like this that every day in New York started.

We had plans for New York. We’d get any gift shopping done on one day, central park the next, then chinatown etc. We’d take in some sights, go to some clubs, bars etc. Uh, no. It did not happen that way, and given the brief length of our stay, it never could have. Instead, we crammed in everything we could, every day, until it came to such time as deciding if we were going to a club or not. “You want to?” “Uh, aye, cool” “really but?” “I’m a bit shattered man”….and so it went. Our first full day of course didnt go as planned. Instead of leaving the gift shopping till the end, we did it then. Apple Store, Borders etc. We had a look in Bloomingdales but my bank manager called when I crossed the doors. No way.

Ironically, the only things I bought that day could have easily been bought at home – ipod, comic book (watchmen, finally) and a green jumper that I am wearing now. Halfway around the world and I still bumped into the familiar, everywhere. Even had a nice conversation with the girl who served me in Borders. She warned me of the difficulty of reading Watchmen, but I assured her i’d be ok. We talked comics for a bit before I left.

We set our sighs on Greenwich Village. Hipster central! We followed the directions the best we could, and there it was….Chinatown. A wrong turn or two maybe, but this would do just fine.

Chinatown, as if you couldnt tell...

This is where I had to feel sorry for Craig. Poor son of a bitch had to contend with my searching high and low for shops selling, well “cool” stuff. Being an anime and manga fan, and fascinated by the east in general, I was buzzing. Eventually I had to resign myself to the realisation that 95% of the shops in Chinatown sell produce or fish. And lamps. I did, however, manage to secure Nana 2 and a Deathnote spin off movie. It wasnt the “stuff” that mattered though, it was the being there. This strange little corner of Chinese culture in the middle of New York. Of course, it sat right beside a strange little corner of Italy, and slowly but surely you see that New York is probably the American ideal in its purest form. Its where everyone went, where they arrived looking to set up a life for themselves. This was the metling pot on full heat.

So we left China and made for Italy. A different place entirely. Not so much produce and fish as much as bags and pasta.

Little Italy

The best thing we did in Little Italy was Eat. After a few beers in a bar that reminded me of Cheers (no one knew my name, gutted) we found a little pizza place, and were very impressed. Who knew Italians could make good Pizza? To be honest, my main memories of Little Italy are the welcoming cold of the beer and the awesome Pizza. And a guy from a resteraunt trying to heckle some chinese kids into eating there by shouting Japanese greetings at them.

The next few events, I cant say I’ll ever forget. We walked for a while, a long while. The streets were lined with people selling bags and jewellery and wallets, hot dogs and pretty much anything you wanted. There was a man collecting for the homeless on the street. A big man, black, in his 50s at least, long hair and beard. Bombastic. He saw me in a Superman tee shirt, and yelled immediately: “SUPERMAN!! He ALWAYS helps people! give to the homeless man!” Ok, so i was suckered in with the Superman reference, but we spoke to him a while. He asked how we were, and we said we were good. We returned the question. “I’m ALIVE baby! Its all good!”. To this day, I think that is the best attitude I have ever heard from anyone.

Its an attitude that was apt for the next part. We walked down, and down, south, and a little west. We walked down the Avenue of Heroes, and towards cranes and boards and fences. Tall buildings surrounded us, until we reached the most obvious gap in the sky, the World Trade Centre. Not quite sure what to do there, we sat down. Do we take pictures? Could be a bit crass. How do we see inside the fences? As we sat, a man came up to us, selling a book showing everything that happened on 9/11. The pictures in the book (which we didnt buy) reinforced the scale of everything. The buildings in front of me that I thought were huge were shown beside what used to be there, dwarfed. In the end I decided that one picture could be taken there. Alot of people died there because of nothing they had done wrong. The crash of the towers falling was ultimately felt across the world, and is still being felt now. But they were doing the best thing people do in times like that. They rebuild.

Rebuild.