pedal stalling?

"Looks like we need a Hero now! Don't Ya think?"
quote from the original Rayman

We all enjoy pedal stalling people. By putting them in a golden throne they become untouchable and something to aspire to.

I'm an old school gamer. We had a PS2, it was great but it was my brothers so when my parents decided to reclaim the TV. I was no longer able to use it as it was no longer in the fount room. After that I never really picked up a console again.
Being reunited with the PS2, I began to question the concept of the hero and its influence on society.

We all believe that a Hero will save us from the injustice of the world. Some Batman/Superman/ Spiderman figure will fight crime and cure us from the cruelties that fill us with fear.

How can one person help us?
and how can we expect them to?

Why do we never turn as members of ordinary society and rise up together to change what it has be come? We all turn away hoping that some one else will fix it.

What has happened to the idea of the community that looks out for one another?

The Hero figure is the one man that shouts out for what is right. Is not afraid to say: "Oi! excuse me! Stop right there!"

Imagine what would happen to the world if everyone was willing to do just that?

But then is it really possible blame the invention of Spiderman with the lack of community that we feel now? I mean wasn't the hero invented to make us feel as we could all be one. We could all be the Peter Parker that really does make a difference?

Perpetual Cycles

I'm sure that as we get older we start to realise repetitions in our lives. The way we react to things is purely through our experience so far in our lives.

Experience is what makes us different.

Experience is what maes us feel so alone.

Experience defines us.

The personalities that we choose to relate to are purly due to our subconcious searching for what we are used to. We fall into the same roles. Time after time. We choose the same friends time after time. Our relationships will always be the same.

It's what we are used to.

We as humans do not like change it unsettles us.

This however is a trap for those that are distructive... or in better words have become distuctive due to personal experience. A distuctive person does things to destroy themselves. Mainly because people have destroyed them in the past and they have become addicted to the emotion of worthlessness. It becomes all they seak and all they recieve.

As a distructive person realises they want to change and become more positive in their outlook they find themselves battling with thier subconcious. Almost becoming two people fighting for riegn. Picking and repicking what to say or how to behave. This happens because so much of thier personality has to change and the brain will battle against the change wanting only to recieve the negative emotions that its used to recieving.

We become aware of the cycles that we take and

have to battle to morph into someone that we love.

Brownie Points- The helping hand

I have been attending my university for two and a half years. In the first year I found out:

I am a retard.

I mean this in the most Ironical way possible.

Like a black person calling themselves a Nigger.

Dyslexia is my crime. However I don't see it like that. The English language is nonsensical. My way makes allot more sense than the 'correct' way and this is easily proven by the simple fact that the numbers of cases of Dyslexia in Britian is on the rise. Shh dont give me all that bull crap about just by simply being more aware of the problem, more people will be noticed having the problem. Why? Well... Because im stubborn.

ANY WAY back to my intial topic.

I get Proof reading as its often a trait with dyslexics not to notice typos or grammatical problems. I think its because of a few reasons:

• We have read it through so much we know what should be there, so our brillianly imaginative brains just correct it for us. This sounds odd I know but really I know I do this.
• We have very little understanding of grammar and spelling. The rules we find most difficult are rules that if we ask why the response would have been "It just is. Ok."
• Speaking and writing has very little in common. We write like we speak and I suppose thats why we are called imaginative.

The problem. Its very simple. Very few students actually manage this. You have to have the essay compleated before the Deadline. Then it can be Read Marked and Updated, but another trait of the Dyslexic is procrastination syndrome.

We are offically the best at procrastination. I can sit at a computer screen happily not doing anything for hours. My panic will start when I have to produce a 3000 word essay in less than eight hours. I have to trick myself into believing my deadlines are actually a week earlier.

EVEN then the essay is not compleated until morning it is due it therefore its very rare that I get my essay in for proof reading.

As usual my grade is sugnificantly lower than what it should be. This Dyslexic help thing is really not working is it? So using my wonderful creative mind I go to see the marker of this essay an ask the question: I HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR TWO YEARS:

"Is there any way of getting weekly help with learning grammar?"

I'm sent to the proof reading place and I ask again. The response is oh yes your Dyslexia Tutor can do that with you. We will arrange a meeting.

Why the hell did they not make me do this right when they found out I was dyslexic? I have sat there watching the changes being made with out being told Why, How and When for a while now. Thinking because I'm dyslexic I will never understand it any way, but no they could have just offered me the help that would have aloud me to LEARN and improve.

I'm not saying my work would be perfect. I would have just picked up on a few things that I missed at school and the proof reading deadline would not have been so important.

And also then there would be no reason to used my RETARDATION as an excuse for not knowing. We all learn ways around things right?

To degree or not degree

In my GCSE's I only began to bother working when I knew I wanted to do A-levels and my A-levels only happened when I decided to do a Degree.

Now I'm in my final year of a Creative Writing degree and I no fucking clue of whats next, what can I do? With this sense of misdirection I'm screwing around, my second essay of the year is late and I'm sitting in a computer room typing on this thing.

I want to defer a year, go work in the field see what people do next and why they do it. How they got there and work out is this the actual field I want to be in. However every time I try and tell some one this I am talked out of it. I tried to do it last year and I should have done it. I need some thing to work towards something telling me:

"Yes this is the area you want to be in and yes you are good enough to do it."

At the moment I just am coming across people that haven't made it, working in shops they are over educated in and bored shitless. I need someone to say to me:

"These are your options and I really think that you can get there all you need is...."

But I'm just told to go and talk to people I have never met before who don't actually know who I am and probably don't care. They have no idea of my ability or how I could apply myself to it. Me I just feel like I'm wasting time and money and to make myself feel better about it I shovel chips for a living.

Obama

Obama actually won!!!!!

Yes I really wasn't holding my breath, I thought that there would be vote fiddling or something.
I dunno, maybe some neo-natzi will shoot him.
Why do I feel as though its all too good to be true?
Its probably to do to with the anti-liberal Thatcher problem we had in the UK, Women marked her as their saviour and thought she would save us from their opression.

Instead she taxed tampons.

She sent the lion on its way.

She loves the way his poetry flows
sounds she lost in touch and now create
etchy jargon crossed with self delinquance.
feelings swept under carpet,
shes here, heart clean
as she promised, locked away
in the perfect box

but touch,
touch. separated from
body she loves.

At amber eyes she cares to stare
for fiery ginger hair.
Playing with memories she fucks
clawing at frustration
not even the sea but land
thrust her in the wrong direction.

She needs to care
she needs to care
or else she might die.

So her hands flicker past each fingertip
and each heart she holds, she holds it close


His picture hidden in the perfect book.
praying that its pages will never grow apart.

Loans

I warn all this is a rant! It is Huge, dire and Angry.

Ok I admit, I live in disorder and chaos. I have stacks of paper all over my room, I don't what the papers are for. All I know is; that it's probably not a good idea to throw them out.
One of these lovely papers is my student loan letter telling me about 3 months ago that I can apply for my new loan. Which I really hate having already, being vaguly aware of the fact I am not even twenty one and am over 9000 in debt is a painful reality.
Also knowing that I probably wont ever get a good enough job to pay it off another painful thought. It has no date of the final deadline on it which means that a black mark is not put in my diary.

I have missed the deadline.
But its ok right? So has about another 300,000 students across the county.
I go to log on.

It asks me for information and passwords that I have not used for over a YEAR. My childhod superhero? Yeah its the same one but however I probably spelt it differently than I do now, did I use a capital? Did I put numbers in it to be UBER secure? Probably, I don't know, or really care
I go onto the dire website once a year, and its horrible.
Its latest news is in wrong order (Oldest at the top?) telling me at the very bottom of a list of wonderful changes to a site that I can no longer apply online.

Whooooooooo, shame I was never actually sent the form. So being used to the questions a computer buff would ask: I ask myself, or my laptop depending on how you look at talking aloud: "Can I download the form off the internet? I can print it off and fill it out presto simplicity yay!"
NO, NO you can't: 404 this page does not exist blah blah.

I want to smash my computer! My form is late. My fault entirely, but there is no such thing as simplicity. Why? Why can I not get the form off the net? Oh and I have forgotten to mention this wonderfully designed website keeps loging me out! 3 questions every time just to get back in!

If I had tried to fill out the bloody thing on time
I would have given up already, pretending it doesn't exist.

Oh look a "contact us number". Buisness, nevermind, its important.
A MACHINE: Fuck you machine! Fuck you! I'm paying to talk to a machine, a machine!

screw you guys! like I want the bloody loan any who
WAIT no... I need it. Yay for the debt filled generation!

Politics

I would love to be more involed with politics, and have spent many an hour debating with fellow students views and ideas:
As far as I can tell: The majority of people, even if views are different, feel icolated from politics.
I click on website after website, trying to find some truth, but find nothing more than empty promises like

"I will make the green light on traffic lights stay on for longer."

Well yeah ya could, but very few people realise that if the greens on longer, the red lights on the joining roads have to be on longer to.

The statement is void, and the politician is a duche.

I want to know more, I hate running round in circles in a hazy mist of nothingness, with no Idea if I am actually standing for what I believe in.
Im just left with a fourteen year olds reaction: "Screw this im gonna go get pissed"

How can we be expected to conform to a society, if we have no idea what stands for what?

I keep trying to work out where I stand politically, Devlving into current affairs, new policies etc. I am just left with conclusion that the world is all wrong and there is nothing I can do about it because I don't understand it.

To add salt to my wounds as a young Idealist; we have the war in Iraq. I Marched, I cared, I tried and was left feeling like young kid feels after the realisation that those foul carrots you had to devour don't make you see in dark after eating them.

YES the war was about oil
YES you lied
YES I knew it
YES its true that

After the statue was pulled down and I saw so many happy people, I questioned my belief that the war was wrong. Just like I still ate those bloody carrots knowing deep down that I would never see in the dark.

I have so much Hatred for the society I live in and it exists because I want to care, I want to be involved but every time I try my head hurts and a dummy seems to be shoved into my talking mouth.

Maybe I should run away to Tepi Vally

Something or other...

On bad judgment of a group of indiduals:

“the members of the crowd are too conscious of the opinions of others and begin emulating each other and conforming rather than independent cognition.”

This I find interesting, because it relates to me at the moment I cannot be bothered to explain why but however it does mean personal oppinon is important.


Quote: Surowiecki

Casper says:

Read The Profit!

We Love Boris

I found this on Facebook: Boris manifesto watch: The wishy washy unmesurables.

"The irony! Our predecessors fought and died for democracy, and now that we can choose who leads us, we do it as if it were a personality contest or reality television show."

Rayyan Mirza

I talked to pigeon about this a few months ago, I wanted to try and get a random person to run for student president. We would litter the town with their face. Get the out at every BIG event in town to promote themselves and see if they win.
I say themselves because, the idea is that they will have no policies or anything other than empty promises on how to make Aberystwyth a better place.
I guessed that they would win the election.
I believe that we only vote for faces that we see the most.
I would love to do this social experiment. I am just far to busy not doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?uid=16137761282&topic=4321

The Author

REMEMBER:
When I write I lie, even elements of truth are embellished, exaggerated and made perfect.
Never trust an author when they talk about their own work. They like confusion.
I write this for two reasons:

1) I like to lie, about rubbish. Stuff that effects no one. An example of one of my many lies:

One of my fellow students mothers has really really long finger nails always painted bright colours. It was the days before everyone had a computer or Mobile so I'm sure she hadn't realised the impracticality of growing them that long. Apart from maybe trying to turn the pages of a book, if she ever tried to read. She often helped on school trips, I remember clearly once in the changing rooms while we where getting changed for swimming. We all heard a sound that sounded like something getting caught on material. One of these bright red nails flew across the room and landed under a bench on the otherside. Thus proving to the world that they where not real.

What ACTUALLY HAPPENED.:
I just saw a fingernail under the bench, the next day I saw her with one short nail and made the rest up.
I told my mother this story, she approached her and I got found out, however no one ever believed those nails where real ever again.

2) I'm sick to death of people relating stuff back to the authors past. I feel sorry for many of the authors that I have studied where there past is looked into more than what they have produced. Lies have to have some truth in them otherwise no one will believe them.

So what if Conrad lived in the Congo's and was part of colonisation his "Heart of Darkness" is not a documentary of what it is really like, its a story with metaphors and similes and amazing imagery yes I admit that there is something to be learnt from the story. But its not: Is Marlow Conrad? The questions that should be asked: What was moving about the story? What have YOU learnt?
There is never a definite universal answer to a text especially one like "Heart of Darkness"
Although I have to say it happens to female writers more than men such as Woolf and Plath.

Basically before I went on a tangent what I'm trying to say is:

Truth is not the story, truth helps tell the story.

I say truth as in elements of truth, for example: authors' experiences, recognisable places or people that are so often found in literature.

Help me be Green

1. Turn of electrical appliance once leaving the rooms.
2. Remember to turn lap top off
3. Recycle all unwanted paper
4. Buy Recycled paper
5. Walk places more often.
6. Establish separate bins for recycling glass, plastic bottles and cardboard.
7. Save and reuse packaging materials.
8. When shopping bring own plasic bags.

The large font is what I am worst at... I intend to add to this list because maybe if I do all the things that I feel I stand for I will feel like a more whole person.

A Baby of Self

She held a baby in a arms a metaphor of herself and said: "I love myself because I exist."
This is not an exact quotation, I shall get it. Just wanted to write it down before I lost its essance.

The Amazing Tree: Our Mother, Nature

Think of:

A great enshadowing tree which is personified, a great mother who binds all living things together in the manifold embrace of her leaves and branches... No man or woman is limited to him or herself, but each is joined to others by the means of this tree, diffused like a mist among all the people and places that he or she has encountered.

J Hillis Miller on the narrator of Mrs Dalloway

The Sony Poet

He liked to flash the Queens head about,
and roll it into a tube.
Brand new Nikes and a hat to match.

Colour, not the label.
Signed by Sony!
Oh those walkmans,
So robust.

Looking for the ears that pricked
his French accent twirled about.
“I rap you see.”
Another poet! Urban too.
The legion did you say?
Racking up lines on the outskirts
of the modern courts

I’m touching fame

His scaled legs dipped in dye
to match his hat and trainers.
“Boy meets girl.
And girl.
She meet boy,
That IS what’s important!”

Oh. The Red, it offends me.

Procrastination

Okay, I am sure by the subject of this entry you can see my predicament. I do have a lot to do.
Honestly.....
A horrible amount. Its terrifying hence sitting here in this stupor.

In the wanderings of my mind I decided that I should restart an online blog. A place to Muse over things etc.
I hope this will restart a little bit of creativity in my writing.
A chance to discover a new authorial voice that I am so desperately searching for. I feel as though I'm grasping at straws when ever I write anything down. It is like a concept which seemed so much better before it was defined.

What new sound is generating from this generation?
What are our beliefs?

There's a pacifier, shoved roughly into my mouth.
We are ants.
What difference can be done?
Winding through
layer upon layer upon layer upon layer of slightly broken ideals.
This shit it's up to my knees!
How can we be free when Ronald; Our childhood friend
tricked us, the money grabbing thief.
No wonder we are so afraid of clowns.

Careful its hot!
No, you don't say!
Although which one of these drones
will complain when its ice cold?

First past the post, make a difference and vote.

So we came out in our hundreds.
Yet his charming smile,
followed right behind a Scripted Baboon.

Now petrol is dear
and it's okay for you beat your wife,
sure cover her up.
We are far too civilised for all THAT.

My elders, the wiser
are you happy you fell for his face?
Remember his pictures with his guitar.
Do you feel cheated?
I do, and I couldn't vote.