All These Changes That I'm Not Sure Happened

I'm sitting here, on my bed, wondering whether I should say everything, or nothing has changed. It's been months since I've written anything so my grammar is suitably horrible, but apart from that, life trundles on. (The old me would now lament how little my life has altered in a space of several months, but not this one!)

I've started watching Grey's Anatomy, which simply is just the best TV show on earth. I've also read a lot of books - notably Uglies by Scott Westerfield. Let's talk about that for a while, shall we?

I gingerly approached the section of my local library allocated to teenagers, knowing that I would find nothing but melodramatic, romantic trash and needlessly violent spy "novels". Turning my head to 90 degrees as I usually do when scanning books, I came across this very interesting find. It's about a futuristic society where everyone is born "ugly" (except for the "natural-born pretties" that set my heart a-twittering) and are then operated upon at the age of sixteen to become "pretty". Although the prose was lamentable, I could for once forgive the author and simply enjoy the story.

As usual, one character breaks the norm and decides she doesn't want to be pretty. However, the frighteningly awful totalitarian government doesn't like rebellion so they conscript our protagonist into finding the rebel, or she will never become pretty. 

It doesn't sound like the most terrible punishment in the world, but that's the magic of Uglies: you completely and utterly believe that this is the most horrid thing imaginable. I was wholly sucked into the world where aesthetics are the only thing that matter. There was such an urgency about the protagonist to turn pretty, that when she realized the beautiful people were only beautiful because her entire upbringing and enforced that hypothesis, I still just felt the need for everyone to turn pretty.

Then again, I'm vain.

Now onto the main theme of the novel. As you can guess, it's individualism. As the story progresses we find out more about what categorizes someone as 'ugly' or 'pretty'. Pretties are the absolute average of everything that only have very subtle differences to tell them apart. Uglies, on the other hand, are ourselves. It took me a while to figure that out, though I loved that the author didn't shout to the heavens the purpose of his novel. All of the uglies in the novel eventually become confident about their appearance and rebel against the government that forces them to conform. How lovely.

I think I'm making it sound like a very girly book. But it isn't. Despite its underwhelming writing I loved it because of its characters, its futuristic setting (did I mention that? The author just makes up devices) and its fantastic message for young people. It also talks about why we should recycle and stuff, which is a plus in my book.

I didn't mean to write that much about it. That makes it seem like I love it to bits when really I just enjoyed it. Although it should come with a warning sticker because for the first 100 pages I was convinced that image is everything and judged the poor students at my school. But then everything was uplifting and wonderful.

My surfing has progressed! I'm still not 'riding the face of the wave' (the man in the surf shop asked me that and I had to decipher its meaning on the spot, lest I look like a fool) but I'm getting up a lot faster and I want to start tackling drop-ins soon. I bought some new gear yesterday because my old stuff was either ripped or constricting the blood flow to my hands. There's a competition next weekend so I'm going to head up and watch how the pros do it. They sell little cups of tea at comps so it's all good :]

Also, I'm doing Drama for GSCE and it is the most awful thing imaginable. My essays are horrible, compliments from the teacher are like blood from a stone (a rather worn simile) and I have an OBSESSED friend that won't stop OBSESSING. 

I think that's it. I half-rejoined my role-playing website and look forward to starting some open RP and just going nuts. Haven't written since NOVEMBER.

Hello!

In the five or so months since I last posted, I've discovered that I despise melodrama. That's why I'm about to purge my blog of it. I also feel like summarising my absence for some reason. But that will have to wait until later. I'm watching a movie =O

Proof that I think too much

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but Nature more."

On the very top of the list of films that changed my life, I place 'Into the Wild'. The film (journey? Experience) opens with this quote from Lord Byron's 'Childe Harold's Pilgrimage', which I'm not familiar with, but now desperately seek out. Without ruining the story (because that is an unforgivable crime) I'd like to give a brief synopsis.It begins with young Christopher McCandless graduating from college, then throwing away the $25,000 he saved to explore America. The breathtaking scenery, fantastic characters Chris AKA Alexander Supertramp meets and the interesting take on camera angles and production all added up to make the second movie ever to make me cry.

By the time I had finished watching the mesmerizing two-and-a-half hours of the movie, I felt that life was just a complete waste of time. That may not sound like a good thing, but it proves just how powerful this movie is. I urge everyone to view it. Throughout the movie I found myself thinking, "This should be me! I want the things the Supertramp has. Perhaps I should just take off." In fact, by the time it was over and I'd recovered from my weeping fit, I had the strongest urge to bolt out my caravan door and see the world. But I didn't. Instead, I poured my heart out onto a pagev at one in the morning:

"I have found the meaning of life, and it is happiness. To find happiness - pure, idylic, perfect happiness - is what I know I must now strive for. But where can it be found? In everything I do there is a feeling that I am wasting my life, but what activity or person or place can I discover that seems worthwhile?

Perhaps happiness is in my head. Man never ceases to be unsatisfied, and I'm not foolish enough to believe that I'm so different. "Happiness" is a state of mind that brings contentment in everything I do. If I can't get to that place in my mind, then bliss is a lost cause. But does that mean that I should find fulfillment in mediocrity? I need to discover things, to explore, to 'live'. Cultural norms and niceties are holding me back. To be happy, I think I need to throw my life away, and just see what happens."

Conclusive proof that I must be institutionalized, before I hurt myself.

I Loathe the Despicable Lord Henry Wotton

Stop poisoning Dorian, you evil, evil man! Can't you see what it's doing to him? It is your fault that the boy is presumably immortal; you sewed the idea of eternal youth in his head, you abhorrent creature! However, your philosophies are terribly interesting and you have a wonderful sense of propriety.

I was just about to break down in tears when Dorian left Sibyl when she lost the ability to act. How could he do such a thing? Her loss of ability was a tribute to their love! She didn't need to be Juliet, or Beatrice, or Imogen because her own life was finally taking form. She was hiding in her poetry and plays, blinded to the world outside. But then Dorian showed up and cast away the veil, then found that he only loved the blind girl. The scene in the dressing room after Sibyl's epic failure was utterly heart-rending. Moreso than when I found out about her death.

Poor, poor Sibyl.

Oh, my! I'm not sure whether to rejoice or lament now that a hint of the supernatural has wound its way into Dorian Gray. On the one hand, it is interesting to think that the painting will age and show emotion, and eventually become a skeleton, while the picture-perfect Dorian Gray will remain youthful forever. I'm happy that Dorian is immortal, but I can see that his happiness won't last. No doubt he'll grow tired of youth and wish to grow old with his friends and probable future wife. He'll realise that, to rather awkwardly quote Stardust, "Youth? Beauty? None of it matters anymore; my sisters are dead!"

I only quoted that because I love Stardust too much.

I'm so enraptured in Dorian Gray. Can you tell?

I 'Get' Classical

Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray is just super. I have to say, the scene when Dorian lays eyes upon Basil's work and envies the painting profusely is just fantastic. I especially loved it when he said he would kill himself when he shows signs of ageing. Stupid Sir Henry tainting his porous mind ;__;

I also love the Duchess, for some odd reason. The scene at Aunt Agatha's (who I've taken a fast liking to) was simply lovely. I adored how Harry became so enconsced in his own speech that he didn't notice when he just started babbling.

To conclude, I love Dorian, and I love the Duchess. And Sibyl. Why, everyone is just unspeakably lovely. I don't particularly like Henry as a character, but he has some interesting philosophies and he links everyone together beautifully.

I can't wait for Henry and Basil to meet Sibyl at the theatre!

First truly classical book. Huzzah.

Losing My Motivation

Hey there, non-existant blog-readers. Haven't talked to you (myself) in quite a while. I'd like to say I was busy with exams, but I didn't study; I could lie and tell you I was out making the most of my life, but nobody really does that; I might just say nothing and continue with the post, but I'm going to tell the truth. I was on Zelda Universe.net, mindlessly skimming over the pages of idle, pointless chatter in the OoC Thread and everywhere else.

My two-year anniversary is coming up, and the summer holidays. I have to say I'm looking forward to both (the latter, infinitely more) but the first I find also a cause for contemplation. How has ZU changed my life?

I'm secretive. My parents don't know that I devote so much of my time (well, the process of writing, which I like to think includes conversation with others). They don't know that my fantastic marks in English don't come from the sub-par, meaningless time I spend in class, but from my perseverence in ZU's Dome and the Amphitheatre as a whole. Zelda Universe shaped my writing ability, undoubtedly, and for that I am grateful.

My parents don't know that I hide from the real world - the boring, disgustingly monotonous real world - in my writing. In there I can wisk away to somewhere so much more fun and exhilarating; somewhere that lets me forget that I have how many weeks of school left, or that I am sixty-eight years away from my expected age of death. In the same respect, however, RP'ing is much too demanding. Sometimes the world, is perfect, blissful, picturesque. I could be doing nothing with my friends, or on holiday, completely satisfied with my life, when the niggle of a waiting RP presses into my head. This is one of my biggest issues with ZU.

I'm lazy. Sometimes I just want to sit and watch television, read a book, or listen to music, but I can't, because some role-play I don't give a damn about needs me to post. I have to go and start up my computer, research someone's character I don't care about, then write something using the actions of only one charcter. Writing needs perspective from everyone; it needs flow, reality. To describe the actions of only one participant just because the other writer believes you are acting 'out of character' is aggravatingly frustrating. I couldn't care less about 90% of the characters I read, but trying to write without including them is impossible. Writing with them just leads to endless annoyance and confusion.

Off topic. Don't get me wrong. I genuinely did enjoy my two years here, but it's time to take the next step into the world of writing. RPs were like riding a bike with stabilizers: safer, more controllable, but ultimately a deflated experience. Writing a novel, a novella, a short story or anything that uses the mind in its complex, creative, unstabilized brilliance is where the real passion in literature lies. I will be so sad to put the fantastic experience of being a Councillor behind me, but I think it has to be done.

This sounds like a eulogy. Ironic, isn't it? Eulogies for a non-existant audience.

P.S. I'm feeling surprisingly emotional about this whole thing.

Flee to the skies we will,

Wielding word with unmatched skill,

Words of darkness, words of pain,

Walk this world I shan’t again.

I'm in love with the poetry of ZU's Preservoir. Dark, brooding and oh so emotional, it is inspiring (and heart-rending) just to read. Mulling over P.'s latest effort (the fantastic Starless Country) set me in the mood for writing poetry of my own, so I flicked into my little book of writing, and found a half-finished piece of blank verse. I feel so inspired by P. that I'm going to stop blogging now, and start writing poetry. Wish me luck!