Thursday, 20 October 2011

It's the 20th of October - you know what that means!

Happy International Day of the Air Traffic Controller!

I watched United '83 to celebrate. Gaddafi died. Silly dictators, always dying.

So today was pretty awesome, as it pretty much entailed me winning at life completely by accident. Don't worry, I will actually tell you. Why would I be here otherwise?

In college, there's this thing called a contract, and it's a very bad thing which you get if you suck at handing in work or you're an asshole or whatever reason, and it basically means that you have to be improved or you'll be kicked off your course or out of college.

Note: I suck at doing homework. Literally, I never ever did it in school.
On the bright side, it left more time for alcoholism.

So that was a bad habit, as was revealed by my tutor yesterday afternoon when she said that apparently I hadn't been handing in work for my Media course and that I might have to be put on contract.

Naturally, I s**t bricks and spent my entire first period today catching up, and then I saw my homework for today's lesson - Bring in a magazine. I kind of crapped myself for a second, until I realised that I'm an amazing individual and make a habit of carrying an art-house magazine about meat on my person at all times.

So I get into my lesson, and my teacher goes batsh*t crazy, and everyone who hasn't brought in a magazine to analyse has to sit in silence in another room, write an apology, get shouted at by every teacher on the media team, and do all their work. Meanwhile I get to sit in class with 4 gurlz and get one-on-one tutoring on the coursework brief that I'm choosing.

Minor fist pump.

Then my teacher see's that I've bought in an art-house magazine about meat, and she goes on a tirade about how amazing she thinks it is and how much of a good choice it was, completely oblivious to the fact that I had it on me by pure luck. She then takes it and scans it so they can use my choice as a good example.

Slightly more eccentric fist pump.

Then I had a free so I met some new people (As you do in such an amazing college as mine) who had awesome hair and we went and got donuts and Pringles and sat on a roundabout and had a picnic.

Like a boss.

Then I had film, and realised shortly before my lesson that I foolishly had forgotten to bring in the DVD that I'm doing for my coursework (American Psycho, highly recommend it). So I go into my lesson and go up to my teacher (Who bears a similarity to Peter Capaldi in both looks and voice, so it's quite scary when he gets annoyed) and look as solemn as possible and explain how I've forgotten my DVD and surprisingly, he looks up with a smile and says:
'That's okay, your 3-page plan was so in depth that you can probably write your essay without the DVD!'

Major fist pump.

And I felt really good, so I wrote 500 more words than I was supposed to, listened to some Twin Atlantic and then skipped home where I had haddock.

Omnomnomnomnom. Yellow fish.

So yeah, cool story bro. In other news, my amazing new project is almost ready to be announced, so buy some nappies or something just in case you wet the bed in excitement.

I know I will.

Saturday, 1 October 2011

Hypochondria on the Brain?

"So little food for thought my f**king brain feels anorexic,
 So many typo's when I write, oh I'll claim I'm dyslexic"
Introdiction - Scroobius Pip 

When the film 'Fight Club' was adapted from the book and released in the cinema, it's a little known fact that the recipe for a homemade bomb (Which in the book is an operable manual for the activity) was modified for the film version, scrapped and made up so that it was a realistic sounding facade. Why? Because due to a few laws that may or may not exist, combined with the moral reasoning of the director, they somehow didn't want to give millions of people the know-how to blow up a small building.

Good move David Fincher, you saved the day.

Now all you people, with your clever little minds and vast libraries of knowledge, might make the assumption here that I'm going to start waxing lyrical on the promotion of guerrilla warfare. Now despite the fact that I'm a rebellious yet lovable teenager and the fact that certain Cornish towns need a communist regime, I'm going to take this rant in a different direction.

You see, David Fincher, in directing Fight Club, might have stopped a lot of banking corporations from being blown up, but there was another bit of information that he may or may not have intended to let slip.

Due to some of the themes of Fight Club, the release of the film triggered an international awareness, not just of the everyday urges to beat the living s**t out of someone, but of schizophrenia, insomnia, depression, and other mental illnesses. A lot of people see this as a good thing, and it probably is, but there is one little thing that annoys the crap out of me.

Knowing the symptoms, or what to expect of a mental illness, is a pretty useful thing - after all, knowing what to expect of cancer kind of stops us from dropping like flies and getting very confused. However, when you give someone the recipe for a bomb - they get this strange temptation to blow something up, and it's the very same with the symptoms of an illness, mental disorders being the very same.

It's a bit like dyslexia - everyone has a basic understanding that it entails you being bad at spelling, that sort of thing. So it makes complete sense, doesn't it? I mean, you find spelling a bit hard, and no, you've never seen a doctor about it, because it's so obvious! You definitely have dyslexia!

Oh, and your mood swings? Yeah, turns out they have a word for that too! It's called bi-polar disorder! And yeah, you don't have manic episodes and start smashing things, so you must just have like, a smaller version!

See? We're all completely mental! We're all so diverse and different!

Oh, oh wait, I was being sarcastic again wasn't I.... damn schizophrenia!

There might be a reason for why I get annoyed about this, it might be the prescribed medicines I had for my 'brain problems' as a kid, it might be the voluntary work I did in a mental hospital, it might be the little hipster inside of me screaming for mental illness to be less mainstream than it is now.

People keep saying 'Yeah, you say that, but before they discovered dyslexia they thought people were just stupid' - and they're just missing the point. It's not that we're unaware about these things - I mean, it's not like you've ever read a medical journal and you're an expert on ADD. It's simply that when we're given the ingredients to do something, we want to do it. Even if that means putting yourself through the 'pain' and 'suffering' of mental illness.

I'm not pointing any fingers in this post, and I'm not asking any questions - in the words of the afore-quoted Scroobius Pip, I talk about the things that a lot of people won't mention. All I ask is that you keep your fingers pointed at the keyboard, and for you to ask the questions.

Now take a bloody paracetamol and go back to bed.

-Lewis... it is Lewis, right?