Friday, 29 April 2011


Christ, I'm glad I'm not a modern woman. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not berating the glass ceiling this time, nor am I belabouring a biological point about the inconvenience of the monthly biblical plagues they suffer in their nether regions. But what really gets me every time about 'modern women' is how unashamedly malicious they are - at least in the media - in backstabbing each other in utterly inescapable ways. I mean listen to this from a screaming mouthpiece by the name of Samhita Mukhopadhyay in the Guardian on the royal wedding:
What Middleton is known for is her perseverance and patience in waiting for her royal beau to come around and marry, her fashion choices and her lack of focus on a career. In short, from what is seen in the media, Middleton is hardly representative of a modern woman. Women today have to work (both by choice and out of necessity) and ideally, today's women don't wait around for men to shape up... Will she continue to be a living Barbie doll, most notable for her fashion choices? Or will she make a strategic effort for social change through her newfound fame? For most young, modern women, the princess fantasy might still be strong, but it's life after the ball that really matters.
It must be an absolute minefield out there, slavishly having to adhere to this nightmarish stereotype of the modern empowered woman, never daring for one moment to slip up and show the slightest moment of weakness (or god forbid, humanity). I mean, I am utterly lazy. And that's fine, because it gives feminists something to laugh at. The feminist stereotype works fine for me because they expect it. In fact, even if I took the unexpected route and became a stay-home husband doing the chores for a career focused other half, I'd probably still get more than my fair share of support from everyone for being a bit different. Except of course the hardliners, for whom men are a necessary evil humanity should be trying to somehow breed out (but then there's no pleasing some people, even orally). But god forbid any woman should decide that she wants a bit of a lazy day, or maybe take advantage of a marriage into the biggest free-ride in the history of humanity, namely the monarchy. Maybe it's just me but if I was a woman, I would see feminism as a terrible burden driving me to overwork myself for a bastard of corporations (yes that's the collective noun, I just made it up). I had assumed feminism was about empowering all women, not just a select coven of media harridans who have decided everyone needs to be as miserable and barren as them. But if what a woman wants is to enjoy the precious time on earth god gave them, or feel human emotions like love or empathy, or just not work themselves ragged to prove a point; all of a sudden they're traitors, or fools, or being manipulated by a leering, cock-wielding hierarchy men who want to drag them down.

This from the same article:
And it turns out, most young women don't want to be Middleton either. In a YouGov study, 86% of over 1000 women 18 years of age and up said they are not envious of her position. Why? Because of the tremendous scrutiny she will face and her continuing inability to live a normal life – a truly tragic side effect of being a woman in the media.
How brave of the author to take a stand against the criticism Middleton will face in the media, by criticising her in the media. I love the ability of newspaper columnists to selectively include themselves in the bracket of 'the media' - largely depending on whether they've killed someone or stand to get a free lunch out of it. Well, I say love. I mean 'get worked up and write 650 words over.' In other news, 6,097 words on the FYP, and I'm mildly ashamed of over 2/3 of them.

Monday, 25 April 2011

1,500 to go

The next time a tutor tells me not to leave things to the last minute, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to listen to them very carefully. Then when they're done talking, I'm going to nod understandingly, gather up my notes, and then leave them in my bag, play Mass Effect 2 and leave it all until the last minute. Because let's face it, I'm an idiot. We're all idiots, for the most part. People learn by their mistakes; so really, even if you're a mature student, university is the best place to make them (mistakes that is, not students). This is the last week before FYP deadline, so my plan really was to have the work done and redrafted by this point so that I could throw myself at the dreaded 2,000 word rationale. But no. Life holds too many exciting and interesting things for that, and you're only young once. In fact I'm not even young, so there's that. Anyway, I sit 500 words away from the minimum word count, and easy 15,00 words away from a decent word count, and the rationale as well. Soon I shall be finished, and then there's just the regular essays to be getting along with. Also an icecream van turned up while I was writing this, in the middle of a student infested cul-de-sac. Devious.

Saturday, 9 April 2011

Alternative Vote / Daily Update

So, the Alternative Vote. No, don't run away yet please, I know it's politics, I know it's usually as much fun as being nailed to Jeremy Beadle, but just bear with me. We don't have to do this for long. I think I'm voting yes after a bit of research this morning. It seems slightly better than the current system, and let's face it, most of the drawbacks aren't any worse than what happens now. It just means I can actually vote Lib Dem without risking my vote going to the Cons again. Link: Q&A: Alternative vote referendum
(Thanks BBC News, I love you. No really. Marry me and have my tiny, factual babies) What else? FYP is progressing... well, it's progressing. Now currently at a grand total of 3,500ish words, but they are 3500 words I'm actually proud of and would want to read myself commercially, you know, like in a book or a kindle or a toilet wall in a particularly profound restaurant. Here be sample:
"I know now that it is a necessary part of the change. The human brain learns through instinct and over time the subtle movement and inflections of the human machine, and so many of these lessons are stored deep in automated, subconscious routines. Absolute control of the body and mind begins with the relinquishing of instinct and fear; and stripped of those, I found I was now looking at my situation with absolute clarity."
Criminy. Those certainly are some words right there.

Monday, 4 April 2011

Clean for One Week

Events in meatspace have conspired, as they so often do, to deprive my usual haunt of internet for one week. One week in which I got a surprising amount of FYP done, the missus completed Mass Effect and we discovered a new, cheap source of noodles. But yes, the FYP. The bane of our collective existences, THAT is the source of my current tension and forthcoming apology. Yes that's right, I'm apologising for the apology I am about to launch into. Sorry. I mentioned free writing as a warm up to writing last time, and it is my intention to, unfortunately, use this blog over the next few weeks as a way to get my brain into gear and producing me that nice fat 2:1 I deserve. My biggest issue right now is my brain not wanting to write - there are so many bright and shiny alternatives to doing so that, like a petulant child, it would rather watch the xbox, or or play about on Facebook, or pretty much anything except work on the capstone to the last three years. The issue is though, a lot of things accumulate over a week-long internet blackout. I haven't even looked at my emails yet, mostly because there are a bunch of stag related ones in my staff account. So there is currently a war going on in my attention span between the FYP and the internet. In other words, everything's back to normal.