Time-Rays

Than used to have a watch which he wore for a whole decade. He was really happy with his watch, it was his watch and he wouldn't change it for another, even though its face had cracked and he'd had to change the strap a few times along the years. But one day I got him another one, which was just like it, but new. Not just a new watch, but a new model of the same Casio one, with exactly the same functions but a new, 00s design. As he's said in his own words, it's like a special time-ray shone on his old watch and made it 'new'. Like magic. And that's exactly how I felt when I saw the new Command and Conquer game.

I remember playing the old ones 'back in the day', mainly because it made me happy, back then, that my father would get involved while I played, and thought of strategies and how to best get past the level we were on while he was with the 'other woman in his life' that I was so envious of, his work. In fact, I could never trade that phone call I got from him, while he was at the office, to tell me that he'd thought about how we would get Tanya, in Red Alert (yes, the first one), to do what we needed her to do, for anything in the world. Yes, it may sound crass, but a passion for strategy and micromanagement was always one of the things the two of us shared, even back then when we didn't share much else.

And imagine my awe when I saw the new Command and Conquer game, so many years later, when I hadn't played a strategy game on the PC for many a year. I actually became interested in it because of its damn FMVs (that's Full Motion Videos, for you gaming acronym illiterati), made fresh by casting actors like Michael Ironside, Lando Calrissian (yes, that's actually his official name by now), Josh Holloway (that's Sawyer from Lost) and some of the cool Battlestar Galactica cast. And going back to the whole FMV thing in the year 2007 was one thing, which they did in fact go about the time-ray way.

But what actually impressed me, enough to rant about it here, is the mere specifics of the gameplay, which have remained exactly the same, only with 'current' versions of the visuals. The same setup, only its 2007 version. Little 3D models of the troops etc where they should be, moving how they should move, with the 'way of thinking and playing' behind them remaining constant, and the only thing that's actually changed is what your computer's graphics card and general processing power can take now.

And all this made me feel like time is irrelevant. People are people, underneath it all, no matter how much time has passed, how many new things are invented or discovered to change it all. I'll still be a girl who grew up remembering a moment she shared with her daddy, whether it be a PC game or trout fishing that brought it across.

Polarity of Narrative

(Warning: Contains Battlestar Galactica spoilers)

I've been thinking about narrative conflicts lately, what with the whole 'power shifting' thing - and especially with the latest ventures of one of my favorite TV shows, Battlestar Galactica, which is currently trying to give a 'Mein Kampf' feel to Gaius Baltar's position within the ship's politics and all.

And I was thinking about narrative conflict. Two sides, A and B, whether they be a single person each, or a whole party - army or otherwise - against another, both of which have conflicting views on a subject which concerns them both. And there really can't be a modern narrative of any kind without any sort of conflict, we all know that I suppose.

But what I actually realized, based, again, on the whole Hitleresque/misunderstood hero portrayal of Dr. Baltar, which gave some credible arguments to his side of the debate (the 'am I the worst man alive or not' debate, that is), is that - since, as I have advocated, there are always two sides to any given point - every villain can be a hero. 'Turning that frown upside down' is an easy thing to do on any given subject if need be, and narrative oppositions are always stronger, methinks, if each side has a valid point of view on the disputed matter but you, as a viewer, are forced to choose a side.

And in this debate, the Gaius debate, it seems like the only thing that's keeping us on the side-which-is-not-his is the fact that he used to be the straight-cut villain in the old series on which this one was 'loosely based'. A series which was as clear of narrative moral debates as, it seems, was typical of TV series coming out at a time like that, in the days when 'men were real men, women were real women, and small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri were real small furry creatures from Alpha Centauri', and for some reason that was considered a good thing. But it is such debates that make me 'enjoy' a story, struggles and conflicts that make me wonder about the nature of the world around me and about the human mind and society, that make me think and hence feel, well, a little bit smarter.

So, give me my plot-lines convoluted, please-thankyou. Apparently, it's what gives me the kind of adrenaline rush that only an overdose of shades of gray can.

Geek Out On Camera!

Yes, this is about the NPN Theory again...

Go watch it if you will, then send me a short video of you and/or a friend stating your views on ninjas, pirates and/or Nazis in films, and/or on the theory itself, at NPNtheory at-screw-you-bots-symbol gmail.com until the end of June or so.

Yes, that's the same theory about how the appearance of ninjas, pirates and/or Nazis instantly makes a movie more entertaining. And yes, we're planning to make a 'real' version of it this summer, rather than the sad excuse for a documentary on a cool idea we made in the first place due to time restrictions and stuff. And yes, it certainly will have as many and/ors as this post.

So, be an angel - or at least a nice person - and send us your stuff for our inter(net)views section... We'll say thank you with a big smile.

Ess-Tee, with a Double Jay!

I have, throughout my life, hated Star Trek with a passion. Hated its passionate fans, hated its convoluted, technobabble-infested world view, hated the fact that, socially, being an officially acclaimed geek, trying to openly accept everything cultural that's loved by someone, I was supposed to like - or at least accept - the damn thing. And, most of all, I hated the fact that some people I admire had contributed to it creatively - like Harlan Ellison, for one, the man who always finds the way not to allow me to admire him.

But now, it's official: there might be hope for my relationship with the Star Trek universe. JJ Abrams, the one man who's able to show me why it's OK not to care about the 'real world' when watching something made up, allowing me to suspend disbelief and actually enjoy what I normally take as daft narrative conventions, is - officially, at last - going ahead with Star Trek XI.

I think it's going to be released just for me, just to make amends for all these years of wondering why I can't like Star Trek, even after acknowledging its 'good points'. Just for me, I tell you. And if there's anyone out there who's able to set things up so that I can be allowed to like things I've gone on hatred rants about in the past, it's JJ. Like he did in Alias or MI:III, not explaining things too much, not trying to justify his approach, just going along with it, in a way that told you 'I know what I'm doing, don't worry, it's the way these things are done. It's cool, it's fun, just sit down and enjoy it!'

Oh well, it's Star Trek's last chance, for me anyway. If this man proves unable to help me let go of the prissy look I have learned to instantly acquire towards the Universe every time it's even mentioned, there's nothing else, I gather, that will ever let me. But, for now, I'm giving him a chance over that part of my soul and offering him temporary free reign over it. Frankly, it feels like opening your mouth for the dentist, letting him do his thing and hoping it won't hurt.

And the Oscar goes to... the year 2007!

It's official. 2007 is the year when everyone officially gets what they're officially due. Martin Scorsese is now an Oscar-winning director, just like I was afraid would never happen.

I imagined him walking on the red carpet, 98 years old, there to receive his 'Lifetime Achievement' tosh, just because he'd have to. Too little, too late and all that. I sincerely imagined that was the way it would go, even after he made a film where all the classic Marty directorial trademarks were featured, even highlighted. I imagined it was named 'The Departed' for a reason.

For some reason, 2006 had me convinced that 'it's just not worth trying'. That the Powers That Be made no excuse for anyone - heck, I was sure that life made no excuse for anyone, that when you'd failed at something, that was it, you just had to learn to live with it.

But, up to now, this year, barely two months old, has shown me otherwise. Personally, socially and culturally, the moral of the story is that persistence pays off. And what's ironic about this is that the one who made me realize is the man who 'made my man want to be a director', as cheesy as that may sound. Marty winning a golden statue is a perfect symbol for the Duck winning my heart.

And, of course, him winning for The Departed, whilst not being departed himself yet, is the perfect middle-finger award to said Powers That Be.

(and here's where I'm supposed to whine about Children of Men almost being ignored by the Oscars, but what the heck, I must keep my hopes up, I must follow the teachings I was taught, I must still have hope...)

Shedding Light on M. Night

SPOILERS for Lady in the water follow. Very soon after this warning, too.


M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water is truly his way to kill the film critic. Yep, you heard me, it's more than just a symbolic whine against them. He plays an important part in this story-about-his stories, raising his middle finger on auteur theory analyses that want him following in Hitchcock's footsteps, and goes along with his take on how to make a story work. 'Cause that's what he's been doing all along - not trying to deliver "the twist", as some moviegoers would have you believe up to now.

Although he did go into loads of trouble with his previous work, after Sixth Sense, to show people that's not what he's out to do, he failed enough in doing so that he went on to make this film, that explains it to everyone who cares to watch it. And heck, does it serve as an explanation to all. I'm sure people will respond to it in one of two ways: either by accepting the fact and learning, once again, why to admire him and his work, or by being tragically offended by it, seeing that they're the ones it's out to offend in the first place, and defensivelly dissing it.

He spelled it out for all. Had characters explaining the narrative roles they were there to play as they played them, had a film critic reading it all wrong and thus being the villain of the story more than CGI monsters could ever be, having the Story saved at the end, and self-righteously telling us, not that he learned illegal ninja moves from the government, but that the role he's here to play in changing the world of filmmaking will only bring on a renaissance, that will most probably dispell all academic conventions that analysts stand by until now, after people shed light to it, inspired by his work.

And yes, reading into M. Night Shyamalan's work has, up to now, been a better film course than any of the sort that can be found in Universities. One by one, his films all have something to teach. And this one is truly one hell of an exam. Into his work, what he's taught us so far, and, well, admittedly, into his own a$$hole.

Culture, you ninny!

Hey, now I'm mad at culture, too...
You know what I'm talking about. That council of experts that all sit down together every Friday around a big conference table and decide what is and what isn't art this week. You all know they exist, don't kid yourselves.

Apparently games are not art yet. Yes, they've gone a long way since, say, the 80s, or since LucasArts - which used to have the name, the essence but not the "social acceptance", where anyone but us geeks were concerned - last made something worth mentioning. But they're still not seen as "art" by those that matter. The essence of Academia doesn't seem to care, at least not yet.

Than just finished Half Life 2's first episode. Yeah, apparently those expansions are serialised now. And they're damn fine in every respect, and even I can tell, being the non-"real"-gamer that I am these days. It seemed like... well, I won't say "like an interactive movie". I won't even say "like a good interactive movie", or something as crass as "a milestone in gaming's storytelling evolution". It's all that, but it is, truly, and most importantly, more. It's a game that makes you realise what games were meant for: communication, with the people who made the game, and with the game itself. Like "real" art.

And what makes me mad, this time, is that noone is there to look at it and tell the world why it's important, sociologically, and why mankind is richer for it. And not just this game, which caught my attention this time, mind you. I'm talking about games in general, the kind we play and make us feel... richer for it.
No courses out there teaching people how to make a brilliant game, what it takes to provide us with such an experience. No books, no magazines, other than the ones that would make money from advertising the games in the first place.

Yeah, I'm doing Film Studies, and films have been around... well, much longer than I have. Can we only examine things that retrospectively? I remember being told, time and time again, when I was younger, that we live in a fast-paced time where social evolution is concerned. And I believed them back then, but I really doubt them right now. I should probably have waited a few decades before believing anything I heard about the "here and now" - it seems like we have to make sure, before talking about things, that the "here and now" is safely buried as the "then and there".

Ahoy, Cult Leaders!

Heading fast towards the end of this course, possibly able to finally obtain a university diploma after 7 long years in academia, this year already seems worth my while.

The Blockbusters course, for which we have to write 8000 words overall on a relevant topic of our own choosing, led me to what was, for me, a fairly obvious choice: to examine how on earth a cult-followed yet academically and mainstream audience quasi-ignored auteur, Sam Raimi, managed to fulfill a fanboy's dream and make the most box office successful film of all times, Spiderman.

I love to dwell on things that seem like paradoxes, whether they're "positive" or "negative" ones. And it does seem like an amazing paradox, an unexpected victory on the part of the "team" of us geeky fan-kids, that one day the world seemed to wake up and acknowledge not only our existence, but our "superiority" in a sense. And the sense, in fact, that seems to matter most to it: $$$!

The type of people that I feel like I belong to, that sad portion of overcultured and hyperenthusiastic humanity that is grouped together, not by a religion or a football team, but by a shared love for things that other people make up for us, usually come out as losers in the big game of living in a society governed by tangible objects and the fulfillment of everyday needs. And it does indeed seem important when "we" feel acknowledged, because "one of us, one of us, one of us" emerges victorious.

So, although 8000 words on my part do seem like enough of a tribute to "our" Uncle Sam - I'm only a human typewriter after all - I just needed to add the icing on the tribute cake with a blogpost today. Sam Raimi, thank you, and I hope it marked the beginning of a new era, within which being geeky is officially the way to go - nerds had their time with the rise of the internet era after all, it's our turn now ;)

Battlestar Galactica: The New Firefly?

Apparently, the pilot episode of Battlestar Galactica featured a firefly-class ship in the background at some point, as a tribute to the Firefly series. And I thought nothing of it. I was unimpressed by the fact that there were science fiction TV show makers out there that would think highly of what I thought was a groundbreakingly good series. And I didn't think much of Battlestar Galactica either - I thought its shooting style was slow and annoying, just as I thought about the Firefly pilot itself.

But now I'm truly a convert. My friend Ted ("Have you met Ted?" - that's a How I Met Your Mother reference for you TV series and Whedon allumni illiterates) who runs the greek USTV website and "knows his poo" on the subject, urged me to watch two episodes of it a short while ago in a brilliantly suggestive manner (expressed as "sit your ass down and watch it"), and I did, and I was illuminated by a flaring torchlight in the middle of my soul.

We're talking about a science fiction series that uses its genre as a metaphor to portray every interesting philosophy, politics, sociology and ethics subject in the book, and about a story that Saint Isaac Asimov - the guy whose photo I keep hanging above my desk so I can see it every day, a Doctor in Biochemical subjects, a Mensa "intellectually combative" member, a patron of scientific accuracy in science fiction writing and president of the American Humanist Organisation until the day he died - would be proud of.

And it makes me think. Here we are, complaining about television studios and film audiences for not acknowledging and supporting Firefly and Serenity and not realising what they were. While Joss Whedon himself is not failing us, he's just riding the tide for the time being, having thousands of fans worshiping the air he breaths and being financially able to pay people to grow beards for him (that's a Warren Ellis blog reference, I don't know how much more obscure I can get with these). And while there's talk of Firefly being reenstated as a TV series at some point in the near future, and the comics are soon to come, there's nothing to scare us Browncoats in that front. The man single-handedly changed the conventions of TV serial storytelling, and now, apparently, he's starting to change people's attitude towards science fiction.

The effects are showing, and I'm not talking SFX here. People expect to see a science fiction series that's full of technobabble and meaningless twists, a series whose plot is all about itself, not about the world we live in. But not anymore. People watched Firefly, and they got the message: it's not supposed to be about stories that could or would never happen. It's supposed to be about humanity and its strengths and weaknesses, about what the real world could or would be like "if" or "when" - to make us see, through the eyes of wiser people, where we go wrong, by putting the same things we love or fear about our lives, our selves and our actualities in a different setting and highlight them.

And if this has indeed started to happen, then my seriously bipolar faith in mankind has just been restored, with that thought alone.

Film-watching

It's funny, really. People talk about the experience a lot. From people who will just watch a film every couple of months because they feel like they have to, to people who really, truly care about cinema like it's going to save the world alone. Everyone watches films, and everyone talks about them or about their creators with their friends or with someone they just met - it's like the weather, a general topic everyone will have something to say about.

And yet, film-watching is such a different experience for everyone. A different person is bound to care about different things or for different reasons. Anyone, from a 14 year old girl to a 60 year old man, will probably care about the plot, about what story it tells. And some people care about the way it looks. But even these things seem so different to each person, nobody can perfectly agree on everything. Others care about an original storyline or character development or plot twists, other care for the theme to be similar to what they have lived in their lives or what they have loved in previous films. Some care about the colours (*raises hand*) or the cinematography or the camera work, and certain people like or hate the star system they're subjected to in different industries... And each of these people has different opinions for different reasons.

Some just like what they're told to like, either because of their political orientations or who they are in the world, and others have points which they focus on to generally select their likes and dislikes, such as the fact that it's recent or old, or the way it looks as a series of images, or because someone they respect is in some way or another involved in it. It's all the same really.

And it's scary, yet still wonderful, how much or how long one can talk about a film or group of films, like the weather, and feel like they connect with or like the other person due to a similarity of opinions on what they've discussed, or hate them for the different way they see and care about things. No, I'm not saying that any of these people is wrong, far from it. Just that I don't know how much it matters, or if it matters at all.

Persona & Mulholland Drive

Lately, we've been talking a lot with this friend of ours from University, whose major passion is Ingmar Bergman, about the similarities and differences between Lynch's Mulholland Drive and Bergman's Persona.
And they're both - attention, spoilers ahead - based on the notion of interchangeable people.

Be it in dreams or metaphorically, how one person is so alike the other to the extent of them ultimately being one and the same, this focuses on the notion of human similarity in almost the way that I would...

It touched me, to an extent, as an idea. It really did. However you choose to interpret it at the end, the idea is the same: just look around and find the ways you resemble someone else, be it a family member, a close personal friend or a total stranger. And you'll be amazed at what you find, I promise.

If you take the time to find the ways, it'll tell you things about the world you may never have known otherwise - and it's even better if you choose a person at random. Other than the simple stuff, like age or gender or what you do for a living, that may or may not be the same, look a bit deeper. Look at the way they react to this or that, or their deeper beliefs about various trivial or important subjects, or even their likes and dislikes.

Yet again, with this simple mind-trick, you'll get to know more about yourself and about the world than you'd ever known before.

And I'm sure that everyone's getting tired of my little games, which all break down to a simple "look closer and think wiser", so instead of hating me just watch the films instead...

If Spidey was a Screenwriter...

...what he'd say would, yet again, be "With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility". And it's true. When you write a script, and you present it to the world, there's so much creative freedom you're allowed... But only so much.

You get to decide on your topics, theme, characters, story, backgrounds and everything. From the way they talk or react to each other, to how they change or what happens to them. You can choose a section of the audience you want it to speak to and be understood by, as well as how or why. You have the power of the storyteller, so anything you say or do while writing your script is that and that alone - anyone can take it or leave it, just the way it is, and anyone can love you, hate you or be completely indifferent to you for their own reasons. Just like real life, really.

And then you have to take into account all their different issues. The how and why comes with a price. You can speak to "virtually everybody" or "virtually nobody". They can accept you for who you are because of what you see as the "wrong" reasons, or they can judge who you are - even worse when it's for the "right" reasons, 'cause then you ought to do something about it. And you can be there to be caught by anybody who cares to chase you, or you can stay in your own virtual back yard and just exist. Again, just like real life.

Yet most people will see you as being there to be judged. They'll acknowledge their own right to judge you, for whatever reason and in whatever context, and you'll just be plain evil if you expect the same from them. You, after all, are the one who decided to bring your work out to the public, to light it up, showcase it and accept their judgement. They didn't. They're not there to be judged - what are they, professionals? They just judge, 'cause that's what humans do. They're not required to treat you with any sort of leniency, just because you worked as best you could and they just sat there, judging. You wanted to be there, you took upon yourself the responsibility to make what you made, to give them what you gave them, and now it's their turn to tell you if you should or shouldn't have in the first place.

Just like a superhero. Yes, it's funny, but they're human too. They make mistakes, or act in one way instead of another which you would think of as better, just because they have to choose, at any given moment, no more than one way to act. And it has to conform with their ideas, with society's ideas, with what they always preach as right or wrong, and for the same reasons. And they're not really allowed to make mistakes - they have to pay for them if they do - or change that much - you won't know what to expect. And whoever loves them, loves them for what they are, just like whoever hates them can hate them for a number of different reasons.

Everyone, in their tiny little lives, in their insignificant corner of the universe, is a superhero of sorts, in the field or fields they have chosen as their own. It's fair, in a sense, but it does get hard at times. Still, you can wear that towel in front of the mirror and pose with your arms spread in front of you, and be proud, and know that you pay the price. With great responsibility, after all, comes great, enormous power.

Is cocaine better than TV? ;)

I have a terrible, terrible case of the flu these days, and Than went out this morning to buy me some Lemsip. He came back having bought me a magazine to cheer me up. He chose Wired magazine out of my favorite titles, because, in his words, "It was better than Word". That, and he wanted to justify his purchase of PC Zone when we have virtually no money whatsoever.

I don't know whether his choice of magazine-for-Mel was because he considers me to be more of a tech/sci geek than I am a music geek (which is probably true in a sense), because he thought a robo-Einstein on the cover was cooler than Johnny Cash on the cover (which is debatable really) or because he thought having one more letter in the title equals more value for money (which is just me being silly), but the point is it was indeed the right choice. Wired is probably one of the few magazines out there which I could read, cover to cover, until the next issue comes out. I find it smart yet casual, just the way I like to view myself, really.

The problem is, it created a monster of a blog post, the one you're reading right now, in no more than a tiny bulletin called "ping - just one question". And it goes kind of like this:

WHY oh WHY oh WHY don't they HIT some people out there on the head till their brains grow back?!

The "one question" was "What technologies would we be better off without?". A centuries-old debate, which I believe existed ever since there were technologies (damn you, fire-starting flint stones...). And there's three answers under the question. The first lady goes on about cellphones on airplanes, which, ok, can be annoying, and the last guy states that he wouldn't be up for the abolition of any kind of technology, but that restriction of specific uses is another matter altogether, which I think is one of the only "correct" answers to such a question.

And then there's a third guy, in the middle, called Eric Brende, who is actually mentioned to have written a book called Better Off: Flipping the Switch on Technology. He made me smile, then gradually frown, then shout out, holding my magazine as if it were to blame. And I quote, hoping that I'm not breaching any weird copyright laws here:

"No technology was ever invented that doesn't have some legitimate use. Automobiles, which I try to use as little as possible, make great ambulances. Even cocaine, which I also avoid, was first devised by a doctor as a local anesthetic. Of course, there's television, the possible exception, which was probably invented to rot our brains."

OK, my friend, you're officially an opinionated idiot in my book. Or maybe someone who really, really hasn't watched enough TV lately to form an opinion, but still chooses to express one, and in a pretty cool magazine for that matter. Same difference. And yes, I know it was just ironic. But it's even bad irony: choose something that people DON'T usually express an opinion against, man, if you really really really want to show how smart you are by being ironic. TV is just now starting to gain the acknowledgement it deserves, don't diss it that way.

It's weird though. One can pretend to be unbiased and informed, with well thought out opinions and the works. But eventually one will start making exceptions. Even I do, and I'm the one who's been whining about this all along. And it's when you start making exceptions that you start being truly wrong. Either make none, and express your thoughts as "general tendencies", or make up another general exception for your "rule". Or something.

Anyway, I just wanted to get that off my chest. I'm done now.

Creation Vs Creation

There's a harsh debate going on at the moment among TV geeks like myself. Lots of us are trying hard to prove that TV is gradually becoming "better than film". Series like Firefly, Lost, Veronica Mars, Arrested Development and what-have-you have gone miles beyond most films we know of -well, in a sense.

Well, you know what? TV is better than nothing. And neither is film. Or any other creative medium for that matter. There's no comparison, unless you compare specific characteristics, shared by both media in the "contest", and only using specific examples for each. "The acting / character development / whatever in This-and-that TV series is better than that in Some-or-other film", say. But no medium is, in itself, better than any other.

I remember how people used to compare film with the theatre, a while ago. I think it's been established by now that there's no actual comparison between the two. It's not a "shame" for an actor to star in films instead of theatrical plays anymore, I hope, and everyone knows that a theatrical director is not the same as a film director, for example. Each medium has different requirements, different talents to showcase, different focal points and different guidelines for expression through it. So what gives?

Is it that hard to make the same distinction among film and TV? The latter offers serialised storytelling, on a small screen, with different writers and a different "code". Why would it be compared to film, and why would it want to be "better"? It's just different...

I think what they're trying to express is the fact that television series have started to realise their full potential, as a motion video form of serialised fiction. And yes, it was about time it did. It's about time TV becomes accepted for what it is, or what it can be: an art of its own.

It's just that, after film achieved the title of "the 7th art", we've just lost count. Throughout the 20th century, and the first 6 years or so of the 21st, which we're now experiencing, a myriad of different artforms, with extraordinary artistic potential, have emerged and achieved public recognition in one way or another. From graphic design to photography, from advertising to comics, from 3D animation to graffiti, and even less recognised - to this day at least - forms of creation, like webcomics, flash animations, machinima, you name it...

Some day someone artier than me, someone who lectures in a university instead of just pretending to study in one, will come along and say "Hey, you know what? Anything anyone does to express oneself, originally and creatively and with any kind of skill, is an art... Who's counting?"... And everyone will say "Hey, we knew that all along!"... Well, you know what? It's time to act like it. Humph.

Artists are people too...

Just to make things clear, I use the term "artist" here loosely. Just take it to mean "anyone whose creations you admire, love or value in any way". And yep, contrary to what you may think or feel, they're people too. You may place them on pedestalls in your heart, you may be grateful that they exist, create and share their works with you, but we're still created equal. And yes, I'm not that oblivious, I know that you've probably figured that out by now.

I'm just writing this to remind everyone, including myself, of this simple fact: You can be like them if you want to. And you won't be all that different to the way you are now. All you need to do is figure out a way, and follow it through, and you'll get there eventually. Just define your target, keep it clear in your head, and once you reach it, change it. And, of course, don't be affected by any "dream come true" crisis, 'cause that happens quite a lot.

I've met people whom I consider "somebodies" in various creative fields. I've known some people whom I consider "somebodies" before they even started being so. Big or small, our input into this world is bound to be valued by someone out there, even if it's just our mother or our friends. And the only way for people to appreciate what you are is to show them. Put something out there for the world to see, don't just daydream of it - find a way.

Joss Whedon, Rob Thomas, the Weinstein brothers, Warren Ellis, Grant Morrison, Scott Kurtz, that guy who started wikipedia, Than and most of my closest friends (most of them have something in my links there --->), they're all people I admire, and this is far from the full list, but none of these people seem 100% happy with themselves. It's a shame, the way I see it, but that's what keeps them going: they still have things to strive for. They're all, to some level, open to or grateful for your admiration, but they're still unsatisfied. Just like you probably are.

You meet people, and they're all potentially loveable, depending on how well you get to know them, how effectively they show themselves and how compatible your personalities happen to be. Same goes with people you admire. The only thing that separates "artists" (of the "famous" variety) from the rest of us folk is that they express themselves through things that have reached you before their physical presence has managed to do the same.

And yes, next time I see Joss Whedon, my heart will flutter, I will be honoured by the simple sight of his quirky auburn hair. He will still be one of the folk that make me who I am, and show me who I want to be. But for himself, he'll still be just a guy (sorry Ted :P).

Why I Love & Hate Joss Whedon

Like a toddler, I have walked my first steps as a writer, within the living-room that is scriptwriting. And, as toddlers do, I found a solid piece of furniture in this living-room to focus on. It made me decide to gather the willpower required, not only to support my own weight and stand up, but to walk - to put one foot in front of the other, as I've seen so many around me do, and push myself further, hoping to reach that solid goal. However distant it may seem, it's where I want to go.

That goal, of course, is Joss Whedon. Character developer, plot twister and dialogue knitter extraordinaire, but, most of all, tamer of that scary beast called human pain. And I see the goal quite clearly; right at the other end of the living-room, up on top of the mantlepiece, along with other expensive ornaments - the kind parents show off to their guests. And I know - in fact, i knew before I pushed my hands on the floor to prop myself up - that I wouldn't be able to reach it, not this time, not for a while. And sometimes I worry if I'll ever grow tall enough to climb up there, let alone walk up to it.

It's only my first steps, after all. People will be proud of me, although I'll most definitely fall down before I even reach the dining table, and they'll laugh at me, but cheer me on regardless. And neither they, nor I, have any way to know whether I'll be an Olympic champion runner one day, or a high-jump record breaker, or if I'll be hit by a car at some point and lose my legs.

Still, maybe, if I try for long enough, if I keep my focus fixed, and if I'm lucky, one day I'll reach up to that mantlepiece, pick up an ornament and bring it down. And when I do - if I do - I'll have mastered the art of human pain myself; I'll bring it all down upon him, the bastard, and - just like in his case - it'll hurt me more than it will hurt him.

And then, I'll have found Serenity.