Films, eh? Don't you just love 'em? No? Well, I do. Not that I'm saying cinema is my life, or anything, but watching movies is one of my absolute favourite things to do. Always has been, since I was a little kid watching H. G. Wells' The Time Machine or The War of the Worlds over and over. Doesn't matter what kind, what genre (apart from possibly horror - too scary, you see), even whether I like it or not. It's an art form. It is. It's a strange one, because there's so much shite produced just to make money, but in its purest form it is storytelling, and there most definitely is an art to telling good stories, whether it's by firelight, by book, or by film. It's not considered art in the same way painting or writing music is, but that's because it's a much more recent form of expression - it's barely over 100 years old (film that is, not storytelling, obviously).
If you've read enough of these blog entries, you'll know by now what kind of person I am - I like to give the impression that I'm knowledgeable, but in truth I know just enough to show off to people who know even less than me - true experts will and do see right through me. Well, the same goes for films; I talk like I know my stuff, but there's about a million and one films out there that I still need to see.
I thought it might be a good idea to chart my filmic journey and write down my thoughts and impressions of the films I watch. Rach and I have a bit of a tradition on Saturdays, where we settle down and stick a film on, partly because our kids prevent us from going out, and partly because we are really quite boring people. Anyway, I've started a blog about it (look at me, Mr. Big with my two blogs) here: http://experiment627movies.blogspot.com. Feel free to comment, discuss, disagree, shout abuse or laugh at me for my views.
I thought it would be cool to have both me and Rach do a review, but as much as she loves films, she doesn't quite get into them like me - she's more normal, so as she's contributing to this more as an indulgence to me, her writing will usually be brief in comparison to mine.
Be warned: the reviews are not recommendations, and the assumption is you have already seen the film being reviewed - there will ALWAYS be spoilers.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Goodbye old friend, you’ll not be missed.
It turns out that this year a certain entertainment retailer is planning to close several of its stores. For some reason, I can't quite find it within myself to be sad for that, and the reason for that is that generally, my local store is pants. And the online version is mega pants. Perhaps if it was less pants, I might have been able to summon up a little more care.
The last time I was in the store, I bought a music DVD. When I got it home, it turned out that Rach had already got it for me from Amazon. The special edition, no less. It's unopened, with receipt, so I assume they'll be no problem getting a refund on it. I used to work for said retailer, and I know that big releases like this one would be on 'sale or return', meaning they can return any they don't sell to the supplier for a full refund.
But no; the Saturday kid, who looks like she must be about 12, tells me uninterestedly that it's not their policy to offer refunds unless the item is damaged or faulty. I can exchange it or get vouchers, but that's it. But, it's perfectly re-sellable, I have the receipt, there's nothing wrong with it. In the words of The Dude, no-one's trying to scam anyone here, man. "Sorry, it's not our policy" repeats the dead-eyed bitch behind the counter over and over, like a robot with a damaged subroutine. It seems odd that disrespect and terrible customer service should be a policy, but maybe that's one reason they are closing stores this year. I turn down the vouchers and exchange it for a couple of things I don't really want, because I don't want to go back and buy anything else from the pricks ever again. Congratulations Amazon, you will now be selling me all of my DVDs, Blu-Rays and CDs from now on.
I don't know if my local store is on the death list, but apart from the sad fact that some people I still count as friends will lose their jobs (the annoying brat who 'served' me is strangely not included on that list), I wouldn't be sorry to see it go.
The last time I was in the store, I bought a music DVD. When I got it home, it turned out that Rach had already got it for me from Amazon. The special edition, no less. It's unopened, with receipt, so I assume they'll be no problem getting a refund on it. I used to work for said retailer, and I know that big releases like this one would be on 'sale or return', meaning they can return any they don't sell to the supplier for a full refund.
But no; the Saturday kid, who looks like she must be about 12, tells me uninterestedly that it's not their policy to offer refunds unless the item is damaged or faulty. I can exchange it or get vouchers, but that's it. But, it's perfectly re-sellable, I have the receipt, there's nothing wrong with it. In the words of The Dude, no-one's trying to scam anyone here, man. "Sorry, it's not our policy" repeats the dead-eyed bitch behind the counter over and over, like a robot with a damaged subroutine. It seems odd that disrespect and terrible customer service should be a policy, but maybe that's one reason they are closing stores this year. I turn down the vouchers and exchange it for a couple of things I don't really want, because I don't want to go back and buy anything else from the pricks ever again. Congratulations Amazon, you will now be selling me all of my DVDs, Blu-Rays and CDs from now on.
I don't know if my local store is on the death list, but apart from the sad fact that some people I still count as friends will lose their jobs (the annoying brat who 'served' me is strangely not included on that list), I wouldn't be sorry to see it go.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
An automotive conspiracy.
A certain nameless car fixing place (can you tell from the jargon that I know less than nothing about fixing or maintaining cars?) has me doubting the honesty of their employees. A few months back, our car developed an annoying squeak which seemed to be coming from the front on the driver's side. We took the car to the fixing place, where after a little while, they admitted they didn't know what was wrong. They put some grease on a few bits to try to help, but didn't charge for it. We go on with the annoying squeak.
Not long after, the exhaust gets noisy and the acceleration has lost a little of its 'oomph'. Back we go to the car fixers. It turns out that two big chunks of the exhaust need replacing. It'll cost over £250. Now, a mind more cynical than mine might think that a little dodgy, to have a previously working car go kaput shortly following the first visit that happened to not cost anything. It's not outside the realms of possibility that the problem might have been set up during that first visit. Still, it was paid, it was fixed, and on we went.
Just before Christmas the car starts to make a noise more like a motorcycle. A little pissed off, we head back to the car fixers, thinking they might have messed up the job last time. Apparently, it's the other bit of the exhaust they didn't replace last time. That they in fact gave a green light to last time. That'll be another £200 plus, cheers. This seems decidedly off. But what do I know about fixing cars or what might go wrong with them? Cock all, that's what. They fix it, again. As a parting gift, they let us know that they haven't fixed the noise, but it can be sorted easily with a bit of duct tape. If we bring some in they'll do it, no charge. Considering what happened the last time they had a look at a noise for no charge (a noise which was never fixed), I don't think I'll bother.
So it may be my lack of knowledge here, but there seems to be a distinct possibility they're swindling cunts. Guess I'll never know.
Not long after, the exhaust gets noisy and the acceleration has lost a little of its 'oomph'. Back we go to the car fixers. It turns out that two big chunks of the exhaust need replacing. It'll cost over £250. Now, a mind more cynical than mine might think that a little dodgy, to have a previously working car go kaput shortly following the first visit that happened to not cost anything. It's not outside the realms of possibility that the problem might have been set up during that first visit. Still, it was paid, it was fixed, and on we went.
Just before Christmas the car starts to make a noise more like a motorcycle. A little pissed off, we head back to the car fixers, thinking they might have messed up the job last time. Apparently, it's the other bit of the exhaust they didn't replace last time. That they in fact gave a green light to last time. That'll be another £200 plus, cheers. This seems decidedly off. But what do I know about fixing cars or what might go wrong with them? Cock all, that's what. They fix it, again. As a parting gift, they let us know that they haven't fixed the noise, but it can be sorted easily with a bit of duct tape. If we bring some in they'll do it, no charge. Considering what happened the last time they had a look at a noise for no charge (a noise which was never fixed), I don't think I'll bother.
So it may be my lack of knowledge here, but there seems to be a distinct possibility they're swindling cunts. Guess I'll never know.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Defending the title at the terrible parent awards.
A while ago Rach and I won an entirely imaginary 'Dumbest Parents' award (see this rather old blog: http://experiment627.blogspot.com/2010/04/and-award-for-dumbest-parents-goes-to.html) for letting Katie get heatstroke while in Swansea. Recently we cocked up this parenthood thing again, although not as badly, and I'm not even sure Katie noticed all that much. It did make us feel terrible though. It was the Christmas party at Katie's nursery. In our defence, we hadn't been told and Rach only happened to overhear someone mention it in passing a few days before, so with three month old Emily starting to teethe, it wasn't really at the forefront of our minds.
On the day, Katie wasn't due at nursery until the afternoon, and Rach had mentioned the party to me the night before, about how Katie will need to go in one of her dresses. In the course of the morning rush we, of course, forgot, and although I remembered briefly at one point during the morning, I didn't call Rach to remind her. Later that afternoon, I hear from Rach what had happened.
They turned up at nursery, the party forgotten, with Katie wearing jogging bottoms and a slightly dirty top. Don't judge us on that until you have some idea of the sheer mountain of washing you get through with two young kids and two adults. Well, they walked in on the party and Katie looked around at the girls in their party dresses. She stopped, looked down at her own rather shabby appearance, then looked at Rach with a slightly confused face, and went off to play. There is no explaining the pit that opens up in the middle of your stomach when the realisation of what you've put your child through dawns on you. Even hearing it second hand from Rach, it was awful.
After nursery, Katie was in high spirits, excited about her gift from Santa and she told us she had a really lovely time at the party. She didn't mention the difference in appearance between her and the other kids, and neither did we. I suppose we got lucky. She certainly didn't hold it against us, seeing as today out of the blue she told me she thought I was wonderful (her own words, with no prompting). It seems we're still doing something right.
On the day, Katie wasn't due at nursery until the afternoon, and Rach had mentioned the party to me the night before, about how Katie will need to go in one of her dresses. In the course of the morning rush we, of course, forgot, and although I remembered briefly at one point during the morning, I didn't call Rach to remind her. Later that afternoon, I hear from Rach what had happened.
They turned up at nursery, the party forgotten, with Katie wearing jogging bottoms and a slightly dirty top. Don't judge us on that until you have some idea of the sheer mountain of washing you get through with two young kids and two adults. Well, they walked in on the party and Katie looked around at the girls in their party dresses. She stopped, looked down at her own rather shabby appearance, then looked at Rach with a slightly confused face, and went off to play. There is no explaining the pit that opens up in the middle of your stomach when the realisation of what you've put your child through dawns on you. Even hearing it second hand from Rach, it was awful.
After nursery, Katie was in high spirits, excited about her gift from Santa and she told us she had a really lovely time at the party. She didn't mention the difference in appearance between her and the other kids, and neither did we. I suppose we got lucky. She certainly didn't hold it against us, seeing as today out of the blue she told me she thought I was wonderful (her own words, with no prompting). It seems we're still doing something right.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
How hypocritical am I? Let me count the ways...
Hypocrisy is a strange thing. Being hypocritical is often considered evidence that one is a dreadful human being and should be punished as such. The shout of outrage at the hypocrisy of the politicians is often loud and heartfelt. The truth of the matter as I see it however, is that most people are in some ways hypocritical. The most hypocritical are the ones that complain loudest about others hypocrisy while trumpeting their own lack of it. I know when conservatives are championing smaller Government while crushing average people to protect corporate interests they are guilty of hypocrisy. A brief look at myself, however, will reveal that I am a bubbling cauldron of rank hypocrisy, and I suspect the same would be true of most people.
So, how am I a hypocrite? Let's see. First off, I think animal welfare is important and I support organisations that are passionate about it. I will genuinely be heartbroken if the coalition Government succeeds in re-legalising foxhunting. And yet, I am a meat eater. I know in some ways it's possible to eat meat and still support animal welfare - buy organic and free range, donate to charities and other things, and I do all of them. But if I truly support it, shouldn't I come off meat altogether? Yes, I should, and yet I don't. Blatant hypocrisy.
Another? Okay. Although it's not exactly possible for a man to be a feminist in the truest sense of the word (it's the penis) I do support the fight for equality and believe that women should be considered fellow humans of equal worth before they are considered women. I have many female friends who are much more than walking vaginas to me - they are people. Having said that, I have been guilty of allowing sexual attraction to over-ride most other considerations (not that I've ever acted on that (much), having married my college girlfriend). Again, blatant hypocrisy.
The most obvious one is that I know how to save our species. I know how to reduce our effect on the environment, how to reduce waste, greed, war and other things. We simply need to stop having so many kids and over-running our planet like cockroaches. There are already far too many of us, and in the not too distant future when fresh water, oil, living space and other things start to run out there will be even more of us, virtually guaranteeing a dreadful, near-apocalyptic future for all. And knowing this, I've had two kids. One might have been justifiable. Two is hypocrisy. Three, I know beyond all doubt, will never happen. I hope.
The most recent evidence of my hypocrisy came when we decided on which primary school to send Katie to. There are two local schools - the St. Georges Church of England Primary School (our catchment area) and Priorslee Primary School (just outside our catchment area). We've had a look around both of them, and they both seem really good. A look at the Ofsted reports on the two of them show that at both schools the children are largely happy, confident and eager to learn, which are the most important considerations - Katie being happy is first priority, always. Looking at it in further depth shows that Priorslee (outstanding Ofsted) has high expectations of the children and almost all of them achieve above average academically. However, some formal lessons do begin as early as the reception year and homework starts almost immediately (although it's mostly child-led play). When Katie starts school she won't long have turned four - will she really be old enough for that? A check of St. Georges (good Ofsted) reveals a first and second year that are not nearly so punishing, and it's biggest strength isn't high performing students, but it's helping under performing students improve up to the national average. How do we know whether Katie is going to be academically competent or not? So how can we decide which school is best? The crux of the matter is that the children are happy at both, so both are good enough, and the higher performance of Priorslee naturally causes us to lean in that direction.
Here's the hypocrisy. Recently, Priorslee was offered the chance to convert to academy status. Academies were started by the previous Labour Government to help poor performing schools. They are funded by the Government and are freed from Local Education Authority (LEA) control, allowing them to set their own curriculum, their own admittance procedure and manage their own budget. Money kept back by the LEAs to provide facilities for disabled access and other things for all local schools would go direct to the academy. It was a fairly controversial decision back then, but a look at the once-dreadful-now-fantastic Madeley Court School, granted academy status under Labour, shows that it can work well. When the coalition Government came to power, the focus was shifted away from poor performing schools and outstanding schools were invited to apply for academy status and all the benefits implied (although that offer is now open to all schools, provided they have the support of an outstanding one). The difference between the two ideologies is clear - Labour intended to help the schools having difficulties, the coalition want to offer the highest performers the chance to improve further. I can see both sides - help for those that need it and help the best be all they can be. There's no getting away from the idea that the former is designed to bring things closer and give everyone an equal chance, while the latter runs the risk of segregating communities. As most people know, I'm fairly left-leaning, so putting my daughter into one of the coalition's academies doesn't really sit well with me, and yet we applied to Priorslee anyway. More hypocrisy. However, this time I don't think it's my fault. We've objectively weighed up the strengths and weaknesses of both schools, visited them, talked to Katie and each other about it, and come to the conclusion that we prefer Priorslee, but we'd still be happy for her to go to St. Georges. So, because of my own principles I'm supposed to put my daughter into a school that I don't think is the best one in the local area? I'm not supposed to give her the best chance I can? The coalition Government has put me in this position, and although it makes me feel a little queasy, I've made what I think is the best decision for my daughter, but a decision which runs counter to my left wing ideology. After all, it's not her left wing ideology, and she deserves the chance to make up her own mind without being indoctrinated into anyone else's mindset, and it's education that will eventually allow her to make the choice for herself.
Now all I can do is cross my fingers and hope everything turns out okay...
So, how am I a hypocrite? Let's see. First off, I think animal welfare is important and I support organisations that are passionate about it. I will genuinely be heartbroken if the coalition Government succeeds in re-legalising foxhunting. And yet, I am a meat eater. I know in some ways it's possible to eat meat and still support animal welfare - buy organic and free range, donate to charities and other things, and I do all of them. But if I truly support it, shouldn't I come off meat altogether? Yes, I should, and yet I don't. Blatant hypocrisy.
Another? Okay. Although it's not exactly possible for a man to be a feminist in the truest sense of the word (it's the penis) I do support the fight for equality and believe that women should be considered fellow humans of equal worth before they are considered women. I have many female friends who are much more than walking vaginas to me - they are people. Having said that, I have been guilty of allowing sexual attraction to over-ride most other considerations (not that I've ever acted on that (much), having married my college girlfriend). Again, blatant hypocrisy.
The most obvious one is that I know how to save our species. I know how to reduce our effect on the environment, how to reduce waste, greed, war and other things. We simply need to stop having so many kids and over-running our planet like cockroaches. There are already far too many of us, and in the not too distant future when fresh water, oil, living space and other things start to run out there will be even more of us, virtually guaranteeing a dreadful, near-apocalyptic future for all. And knowing this, I've had two kids. One might have been justifiable. Two is hypocrisy. Three, I know beyond all doubt, will never happen. I hope.
The most recent evidence of my hypocrisy came when we decided on which primary school to send Katie to. There are two local schools - the St. Georges Church of England Primary School (our catchment area) and Priorslee Primary School (just outside our catchment area). We've had a look around both of them, and they both seem really good. A look at the Ofsted reports on the two of them show that at both schools the children are largely happy, confident and eager to learn, which are the most important considerations - Katie being happy is first priority, always. Looking at it in further depth shows that Priorslee (outstanding Ofsted) has high expectations of the children and almost all of them achieve above average academically. However, some formal lessons do begin as early as the reception year and homework starts almost immediately (although it's mostly child-led play). When Katie starts school she won't long have turned four - will she really be old enough for that? A check of St. Georges (good Ofsted) reveals a first and second year that are not nearly so punishing, and it's biggest strength isn't high performing students, but it's helping under performing students improve up to the national average. How do we know whether Katie is going to be academically competent or not? So how can we decide which school is best? The crux of the matter is that the children are happy at both, so both are good enough, and the higher performance of Priorslee naturally causes us to lean in that direction.
Here's the hypocrisy. Recently, Priorslee was offered the chance to convert to academy status. Academies were started by the previous Labour Government to help poor performing schools. They are funded by the Government and are freed from Local Education Authority (LEA) control, allowing them to set their own curriculum, their own admittance procedure and manage their own budget. Money kept back by the LEAs to provide facilities for disabled access and other things for all local schools would go direct to the academy. It was a fairly controversial decision back then, but a look at the once-dreadful-now-fantastic Madeley Court School, granted academy status under Labour, shows that it can work well. When the coalition Government came to power, the focus was shifted away from poor performing schools and outstanding schools were invited to apply for academy status and all the benefits implied (although that offer is now open to all schools, provided they have the support of an outstanding one). The difference between the two ideologies is clear - Labour intended to help the schools having difficulties, the coalition want to offer the highest performers the chance to improve further. I can see both sides - help for those that need it and help the best be all they can be. There's no getting away from the idea that the former is designed to bring things closer and give everyone an equal chance, while the latter runs the risk of segregating communities. As most people know, I'm fairly left-leaning, so putting my daughter into one of the coalition's academies doesn't really sit well with me, and yet we applied to Priorslee anyway. More hypocrisy. However, this time I don't think it's my fault. We've objectively weighed up the strengths and weaknesses of both schools, visited them, talked to Katie and each other about it, and come to the conclusion that we prefer Priorslee, but we'd still be happy for her to go to St. Georges. So, because of my own principles I'm supposed to put my daughter into a school that I don't think is the best one in the local area? I'm not supposed to give her the best chance I can? The coalition Government has put me in this position, and although it makes me feel a little queasy, I've made what I think is the best decision for my daughter, but a decision which runs counter to my left wing ideology. After all, it's not her left wing ideology, and she deserves the chance to make up her own mind without being indoctrinated into anyone else's mindset, and it's education that will eventually allow her to make the choice for herself.
Now all I can do is cross my fingers and hope everything turns out okay...
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Science, souls and salvation: in which a person of limited intellect ponders universal truths that are far beyond him.
Recently, there was a post-doctorate position advertised at the International Space Science Institute in Switzerland. It got me thinking about myself as a young boy, constantly engrossed in books and encyclopedias about space, being obsessed over the subject and even spending time copying my books out word for word by pen and paper (yes, I was sad. I still am. I'm OK with it). If I had realised at that young age that there were occupations such as the one advertised, I wonder if I'd have worked tirelessly to be in a position to apply for it. I wonder if there is another Universe where a version of me is the successful candidate. I'd like to think there is. The harsh truth of the matter is I'm nowhere near intelligent enough, and probably wouldn't be no matter how diligently I applied myself.
However, not being smart enough to be a scientist has in no way diminished my love and enthusiasm for science. It is probably the most wondrous accomplishment of human intellect, and allows me, along with many others, to lift myself clear of the religious doctrine made up by humans who pretend to have answers in order to exert power and influence over others. Thanks to science, I know there is not a supreme being out there that suffers from acute homophobia, or one that favours one country over another (sorry right wing Americans, that's not the truth, it's just what you'd like your god to be). Thanks to science, I know there isn't a place for me furnished with virgins in the afterlife if only I could murder enough people of a different faith (why would virgins be such a turn-on anyway? They'd be shit at sex). Thanks to science, I have a grasp (however small) of the sheer size, scope and beauty of our incredible Universe, and I understand a little of where it (and therefore I, seeing as I am made of stars myself) came from. Thanks to science, I know the secrets of how all things are made up of atoms I can't see, and I have a good idea of the geological and biological history of our planet, which, it turns out, was not made by that homophobic supreme being at all.
There's an awful lot I can't comprehend and will likely never know - how life first came to be before it began to evolve (abiogenesis is fine in theory, but is unlikely to ever be proved), or even how the Universe began (again, the Big Bang Theory and the standard model of cosmology work OK, but have holes that will probably never be filled). What I do know is that even though I don't know the answers, I won't ever chalk them up to a creator made up by men in order to extend their influence over others. There's other stuff that I kind of understand, but have trouble wrapping my head around - Schrodinger's Cat and Entanglement are two elements of Quantum Theory I'll never really get a handle on for example, and dark matter and dark energy are at once both easy and impossible to understand, but that would be down to little old me and my limited intellect again. Then there's the other big thing I can't understand or explain - human sentience. I'm quite sure it's a natural process and one day it may well be explained by a clever chemist or biologist, and I have trouble accepting that it's proof of a soul, whatever a soul is supposed to be. 'Soul' is a simple word to define that which we can't really define, and will always be linked with the other religious arsegravy that organised religions spout while they tell you forces of good and evil are supposedly battling for yours. There is obviously something, for we have conscious thought and sentience, so for arguments sake we'll call it a soul, but there's nothing to salvage and I doubt very much it's a spirit version of a person that will live forever. I do have faith; I have faith in human ingenuity and faith that these kinds of questions may be answered. But I'm sure of one thing - they won't be answered by organised religion. So in a way, my soul (for lack of a better term) has been saved - science saved it, and saved me from worrying about what will happen to it after I'm dead. The idea of spending eternity in either heaven or hell horrifies me. Isn't 100 years of life (thanks to science that figure will probably increase dramatically in the coming decades; I just hope health and quality of life improves along with it) enough? I take comfort in knowing that the atoms that make up my body used to be part of a star, and will be absorbed and become something else after my death. I don't have to kneel before anyone to receive rewards and love in the afterlife, because I will not have an afterlife. I will forever be a part of this incredible Universe.
There is so much we're on the forefront of - many of the technological applications referred to in this piece for example: http://bigthink.com/ideas/20525 sound like the stuff of science fiction - cloaking devices, invisibility, time travel, teleportation? And yet, Quantum Theory, which no-one is even sure is true, is allowing research into these theoretical technologies to develop. Mind: blown.
This video sums things up more eloquently than I can: http://t.co/B51Ky3F. The line "I...stepped out of a supernova. And so did you" literally brought a tear to my eye.
If you do believe in a god, you have every right to. Just remember, I also have a right. A right to deduce what I see and come to a reasonable conclusion.
However, not being smart enough to be a scientist has in no way diminished my love and enthusiasm for science. It is probably the most wondrous accomplishment of human intellect, and allows me, along with many others, to lift myself clear of the religious doctrine made up by humans who pretend to have answers in order to exert power and influence over others. Thanks to science, I know there is not a supreme being out there that suffers from acute homophobia, or one that favours one country over another (sorry right wing Americans, that's not the truth, it's just what you'd like your god to be). Thanks to science, I know there isn't a place for me furnished with virgins in the afterlife if only I could murder enough people of a different faith (why would virgins be such a turn-on anyway? They'd be shit at sex). Thanks to science, I have a grasp (however small) of the sheer size, scope and beauty of our incredible Universe, and I understand a little of where it (and therefore I, seeing as I am made of stars myself) came from. Thanks to science, I know the secrets of how all things are made up of atoms I can't see, and I have a good idea of the geological and biological history of our planet, which, it turns out, was not made by that homophobic supreme being at all.
There's an awful lot I can't comprehend and will likely never know - how life first came to be before it began to evolve (abiogenesis is fine in theory, but is unlikely to ever be proved), or even how the Universe began (again, the Big Bang Theory and the standard model of cosmology work OK, but have holes that will probably never be filled). What I do know is that even though I don't know the answers, I won't ever chalk them up to a creator made up by men in order to extend their influence over others. There's other stuff that I kind of understand, but have trouble wrapping my head around - Schrodinger's Cat and Entanglement are two elements of Quantum Theory I'll never really get a handle on for example, and dark matter and dark energy are at once both easy and impossible to understand, but that would be down to little old me and my limited intellect again. Then there's the other big thing I can't understand or explain - human sentience. I'm quite sure it's a natural process and one day it may well be explained by a clever chemist or biologist, and I have trouble accepting that it's proof of a soul, whatever a soul is supposed to be. 'Soul' is a simple word to define that which we can't really define, and will always be linked with the other religious arsegravy that organised religions spout while they tell you forces of good and evil are supposedly battling for yours. There is obviously something, for we have conscious thought and sentience, so for arguments sake we'll call it a soul, but there's nothing to salvage and I doubt very much it's a spirit version of a person that will live forever. I do have faith; I have faith in human ingenuity and faith that these kinds of questions may be answered. But I'm sure of one thing - they won't be answered by organised religion. So in a way, my soul (for lack of a better term) has been saved - science saved it, and saved me from worrying about what will happen to it after I'm dead. The idea of spending eternity in either heaven or hell horrifies me. Isn't 100 years of life (thanks to science that figure will probably increase dramatically in the coming decades; I just hope health and quality of life improves along with it) enough? I take comfort in knowing that the atoms that make up my body used to be part of a star, and will be absorbed and become something else after my death. I don't have to kneel before anyone to receive rewards and love in the afterlife, because I will not have an afterlife. I will forever be a part of this incredible Universe.
There is so much we're on the forefront of - many of the technological applications referred to in this piece for example: http://bigthink.com/ideas/20525 sound like the stuff of science fiction - cloaking devices, invisibility, time travel, teleportation? And yet, Quantum Theory, which no-one is even sure is true, is allowing research into these theoretical technologies to develop. Mind: blown.
This video sums things up more eloquently than I can: http://t.co/B51Ky3F. The line "I...stepped out of a supernova. And so did you" literally brought a tear to my eye.
If you do believe in a god, you have every right to. Just remember, I also have a right. A right to deduce what I see and come to a reasonable conclusion.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Perspective may change with age, but Joss Whedon will always be freakin’ brilliant.
There's an old argument that political beliefs change as a person ages - when you're young and hopeful you find yourself in the left wing camp, shouting for equality and wanting everyone to get a fair deal. As you age, you accumulate more wealth and feel that as you've earned it, you deserve to hold onto it - you become more right wing, defending the richer half of society, decrying the less fortunate as simply too lazy to achieve as you have done. This, while probably true in some cases, is largely bull crap and Roger Ebert, David Attenborough, Terry Pratchett, Ian McKellan and Stephen "I hate women" Fry are five names off the top of my head to illustrate it.
Be that as it may, in some matters perspective really does change with age. I'll give you two examples. Take Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time fantasy novel series (you may remember from this entry http://experiment627.blogspot.com/2010/07/stephen-donaldons-gap-sequence-how-far.html that I read very uncool fiction). The series of 13 (with one to go) books has many hundreds of characters, each with their own specific take on the world. There are the kids: Rand, Mat, Perrin, Egwene and Elayne - when, as a youngish person I first read those books it was to those characters I related the best and I got frustrated with the older characters holding things up and thinking they knew better. When I re-read it as an older person (and I know early 30s isn't that old, but it's older than a teenager and old enough for perspective to change) I found myself relating more to the older characters - Nyneave, Moiraine, Siuan and Gareth Bryne and sometimes found the impetuousness of the younger characters to be a little annoying. I suspect if I read the series again 15 years from now I'll find myself sympathetic to yet another point of view. Such was the impressive depth and skill of Jordan's writing that he was able to recreate the inner workings of a characters mind that the character automatically connects to a reader of a similar age. Jordan even wrote from a female perspective so well it led some readers to speculate that he was actually female (there are at least as many strongly developed and varied female characters in Wheel of Time as there are male ones, something of a rarity in this genre).
Another writer able to do such a thing is Joss Whedon. Rach and I have almost finished re-watching the seven season run of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is, frankly incredible and the defining TV show of a generation. When watching it the first time round, I distinctly remember having the following impressions: I was annoyed with Riley, because I found him a poor replacement for Angel, I was annoyed with Dawn for being a bit of a brat, I was annoyed with Buffy herself in season six for being miserable and shagging Spike all the time, and I totally loved Willow and her descent into darkness. I think maybe I felt that way because of my age. Watching it this time around, the Buffy and Angel arc got boring pretty quickly, because of all the moping and misery - it was a lot more fun when Angel turned evil. Because of this reaction, I didn't find Riley half as annoying. I don't know if it's anything to do with being a father, but I didn't think Dawn was treated very well and I think they should have done more for her, so when she started to act out I sympathised with her instead of getting annoyed. Buffy, in season six, has been dragged out of heaven by her friends into a world of death and demons, where she feels nothing and cannot bring herself to care for anyone or anything. It's no wonder she turns to Spike, seeing as he's the only one who could come close to understanding. This time, I kind of couldn't stand Willow and her selfish petulance and her increasing addiction to dark magic. I couldn't sympathise with her and felt she should have known better. It struck me as how being only a decade or so older, I could find myself seeing things in a completely different way. With both The Wheel of Time and Buffy it's the layered writing and detailed characterisation that allows this, and for me is the mark of a truly brilliant writer. Anyone wanting proof of Whedon's extraordinary ability as a TV writer and director need look no further that the Firefly episode Objects in Space (which contains philosophical musings on self awareness, and funny bits), or the Buffy episodes Hush (terrifying horror), Restless (lucid and fractured dreamscapes) and The Body (a perfect recreation of the overwhelming feelings of free fall, numbness, fear and sickness when confronted with the death of a loved one).
I wonder how I'll think by the time I'm 60..?
Be that as it may, in some matters perspective really does change with age. I'll give you two examples. Take Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time fantasy novel series (you may remember from this entry http://experiment627.blogspot.com/2010/07/stephen-donaldons-gap-sequence-how-far.html that I read very uncool fiction). The series of 13 (with one to go) books has many hundreds of characters, each with their own specific take on the world. There are the kids: Rand, Mat, Perrin, Egwene and Elayne - when, as a youngish person I first read those books it was to those characters I related the best and I got frustrated with the older characters holding things up and thinking they knew better. When I re-read it as an older person (and I know early 30s isn't that old, but it's older than a teenager and old enough for perspective to change) I found myself relating more to the older characters - Nyneave, Moiraine, Siuan and Gareth Bryne and sometimes found the impetuousness of the younger characters to be a little annoying. I suspect if I read the series again 15 years from now I'll find myself sympathetic to yet another point of view. Such was the impressive depth and skill of Jordan's writing that he was able to recreate the inner workings of a characters mind that the character automatically connects to a reader of a similar age. Jordan even wrote from a female perspective so well it led some readers to speculate that he was actually female (there are at least as many strongly developed and varied female characters in Wheel of Time as there are male ones, something of a rarity in this genre).
Another writer able to do such a thing is Joss Whedon. Rach and I have almost finished re-watching the seven season run of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is, frankly incredible and the defining TV show of a generation. When watching it the first time round, I distinctly remember having the following impressions: I was annoyed with Riley, because I found him a poor replacement for Angel, I was annoyed with Dawn for being a bit of a brat, I was annoyed with Buffy herself in season six for being miserable and shagging Spike all the time, and I totally loved Willow and her descent into darkness. I think maybe I felt that way because of my age. Watching it this time around, the Buffy and Angel arc got boring pretty quickly, because of all the moping and misery - it was a lot more fun when Angel turned evil. Because of this reaction, I didn't find Riley half as annoying. I don't know if it's anything to do with being a father, but I didn't think Dawn was treated very well and I think they should have done more for her, so when she started to act out I sympathised with her instead of getting annoyed. Buffy, in season six, has been dragged out of heaven by her friends into a world of death and demons, where she feels nothing and cannot bring herself to care for anyone or anything. It's no wonder she turns to Spike, seeing as he's the only one who could come close to understanding. This time, I kind of couldn't stand Willow and her selfish petulance and her increasing addiction to dark magic. I couldn't sympathise with her and felt she should have known better. It struck me as how being only a decade or so older, I could find myself seeing things in a completely different way. With both The Wheel of Time and Buffy it's the layered writing and detailed characterisation that allows this, and for me is the mark of a truly brilliant writer. Anyone wanting proof of Whedon's extraordinary ability as a TV writer and director need look no further that the Firefly episode Objects in Space (which contains philosophical musings on self awareness, and funny bits), or the Buffy episodes Hush (terrifying horror), Restless (lucid and fractured dreamscapes) and The Body (a perfect recreation of the overwhelming feelings of free fall, numbness, fear and sickness when confronted with the death of a loved one).
I wonder how I'll think by the time I'm 60..?
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