Day #13: Have a Bad Day

... So I had a frankfurter sandwich (with lots of Ketchup, of course) and listened to Jamie Cullum (why I thought that would work I have no clue). I am currently trying to work out whether I should listen to really depressing music and feel really sorry for myself or whether I should listen to something upbeat and snap out of it. Anyway, I still feel like shit so I'm not even going to attempt to write anything else until this metaphorical cloud has passed (number of pieces started today: 4. Number of pieces angrily discarded: 4).

I also tried to cheer myself with by looking at pictures but then found this one of a frog I took last month. I bet it was gutted (Geddit? It was sad and its guts were hanging... Never mind. I'll get my coat). I was cheered slightly by my amazing wit. So it's not all bad. At least I'm not in the same position as that frog.


BREAKING NEWS: Y'know those people who did 'Brim Full of Asha' about a million years ago (well, some time in the 90s)? Cornershop are back with a new album, which I will be reviewing tomorrow. Go on, check back in a day. You know you want to. I already feel better. Thank you Cornershop. To preview the album on HypeMachine, click here.

Day #11: Get Down on Friday

So I have been resisting listening to new viral sensation Rebecca Black's video: 'Friday', and I finally caved. Poor Rebecca Black. She only wanted to record a song to be heard by her friends and family, and maybe a few other people. Inexplicably, the video went viral in a matter of days, now having received over 14,000,000 views. 

The eighth-grade singer's name began trending on twitter after receiving hundreds of thousands of views, because of her 'unique' voice, unimaginative lyrics and bland nature (which according to NME, has a "standard, substandard chorus" Interesting word choice, NME). I think she's dealing with it rather well though, considering the unexpected fame, hatred and the decision to sing a terrible song. (Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday / Today i-is Friday, Friday... / Tomorrow is Saturday / And Sunday comes after... wards) . The record company, Ark, even gave her the opportunity to take the video off YouTube, but she decided to leave it up, as a 'middle finger up' to the haterz. You go, girlfriend.

Many, many internet memes have already been made, including Rosa Parks, Pedobear and Black Plague-inspired ones. She is being touted as the new Justin Beiber (well, they look similar) (Yeh, I made a terrible Justin Beiber's-a-girl joke) and whilst having received much hate, also made the iTunes top 100 chart. Well, all publicity is good publicity...

Day #10: Go to the ballet

Well, I think I'm back on track for expanding my creative horizons. Amazingly, there was a ballet performance on near me: Coppelia. I, of course, jumped at the chance. It is a ballet that is close to my heart, as it's a bit weird, and something that I have seen several times growing up, having danced for ten years . The basic story is, mad doctor is lonely, he makes a doll for company, boy fancies doll, doll seemingly comes to life (but is girl pretending to be doll), doctor goes mad and boy marries girl. And some other stuff...

My memories of this ballet are extremely hazy in some parts, as it may have been as much as ten years since the last time I saw it, from a great distance. However, my enjoyment was not as I expected: yes, I had a whale of a time, but I felt cheated, in some way.

Shouldn't this experience be richer as a result of my advancing years? I did not enjoy the fact that I could see every sequin on the dancers' dresses, and every expression (their smiles were virtually painted on, why are they all so happy?!).

Having said that, it was really lovely. The costumes were not as, well, grimy or as dark as I would have liked: the ballet having some serious dark potential, I felt a tad disappointed that they did not utilise this side of the production. Some of the dresses were lovely, but the Coppelia that I remember is much simpler and more elegant in dress. And as for Coppelia/Swanilda's dress, it looked like a reject from goth Ann Summers...

Moreover, the set strangely reminded me of the Lloyds TSB ad. Overall, however, the experience was as I had hoped. The professor danced his role as he should, comic timing perfect and looked the part too. Both the leads were suited to their roles, whilst perhaps being too smug, but perhaps such is the way with leads. I mean, you could see everything in those tights.

Day #9: Work with kids

I've never really been that great with kids, but over the last few months I've been helping out with a kid's after-school art group here. Some of them are patience testing, but they are all lovely kids and all so creative, despite being so young (ages ranging from 5-11). See talent in picture over yonder. Look at those colours.

Today we did marbling and origami. Origami is unsurprisingly not messy, yet surprisingly embarrassing when I, the helper, have trouble working out how you fold a bit of paper when there are clear instructions in front of me.

Marbling was, well... less complicated (involving water in bowl, paint in water and putting paper over water) although things did get a little sticky when a particularly young'un got a little overenthusiastic with said paint, and water went everywhere. Considering this was in the middle of an art gallery, it was a little embarrassing. I think said young'un's mother saw the funny side, however, despite the fact that she may not have noticed that her tiny jogging bottoms were spattered in water and paint...

Day #8: Find somewhere to stay

So the fact that I am going to London has not only sunk in, but I am currently trying to find accommodation. It's not difficult to find a flat to rent in London. This gets slightly more difficult if one is trying to find a place for little to well, no money, as I have no, well, minus amounts of money and am trying to find a solution. I am convinced it can be done (without selling my body). So I'm looking at every ad for lettings, part-time au pairing, but no such luck so far.

Trawling through the ads on sites such as Gumtree is slightly disheartening as there are so many, and most of them are far much more than I can afford. Worse than that, however, is the amount of weirdos that post there: one advert I saw raised my spirits momentarily: "Do you need short term Free accomodation?" On second glance, I realised that 'accommodation' was spelt incorrectly and that there is no such thing as a free lunch. On reading the actual advert, I rolled my eyes and cringed... "I OFFER : ONE DBL BEDROOM FOR FREE FOR SINGLE ATTRACTIVE GIRL / FEMALE....... ;););).. (SHORT TERM) ........ ;););)" Oh, and he's a 30-year old male. Rapiest. Ad. Ever. I wonder what replies he recieved... I mean, was he actually successful? Considering this ad has popped up four times since I started yesterday, probably not yet...

Back to the drawing board it is, then...

Also, if you hadn't heard, Nate Dogg died yesterday. RIP.

Day #6: Listen to copious amounts of pop music*

If you don't want to read about Girls Aloud and Lady GaGa, I suggest that you stop reading now. 

Just the two of us, then...? Anyway. I was listening to my 'super pumped up jams' hiphop playlist and suddenly got the craving for something sugary (like you do sometimes) and popped some Girls Aloud on. Lifted my mood infinitely! Pop music is underrated. Yes, I realise the irony of what I just said. What I mean to say is, with those types. You know.

I used to be one of those types. When I was about sixteen, I thought I had the best taste in music in the world (Enter Shikari was my favourite band, and 'all pop music is shit, man', clearly I didn't). But there is a simple joy to pop music. Manufactured, yes. Overly peppy, perhaps. But terrible, a lot of the time, no! And pretentious? Definitely not. 

Pop music is a common, uniting factor, whether it inspires deep hate in hipsters or whether it pulls total strangers together on a sweaty dancefloor at any given point during a night. I am not suggesting that I live on a diet of sugary goodness, that's bad for anyone, but as part of a balanced diet, including large chunks of math rock and other such delights, can bring the right amount of happiness into many peoples lives.

Rihanna, Lady GaGa, The Saturdays? They may not be groundbreaking but sometimes that is not necessary. I have an entire playlist dedicated to this decade's cheese, and 90s pop delights. I am not ashamed.

*You may have lost some respect for this blog. Shame on you.

Day #3: Expanding my lungs

Today I decided to go for a walk around Glyn Ceriog, which is a beautiful rural area nearish where I live. The aim of today is to feel the wind on my face, to expand my lungs, to see nature. It being a fair distance away, was a perfect opportunity for driving practice. However, I did shred both my mother's nerves when driving on the edge of very narrow (well, quite) roads with very steep drops (my brother seemed to find the whole incident extremely amusing). But I am alive, and that is the most important fact (except my hands still have a slightly claw-like quality as if they are still gripping the steering wheel for dear life).

Anyway, we decided to go up a massive hill (which, I might add, was one of those never-ending ones with 'false crests' - we got to the 'top' no less than four times. I may have been several hundred feet behind my Army Captain brother, but the important thing is not that I finished, not when I finished, right!? My only saving grace is that there were no other keen walkers around to see my red face and ungainly stagger on ascent of the hill. 

I took a few photos on my crappy phone camera, the far above being my mother's truly amazing walking outfit (on her head is a big woollen headband on which is a flower, if you were wondering), replete with massive socks tucked into her walking boots. And just above, well, that's a tree.

This blog post is courtesy of several lemon and ginger teas and this song:

Day #2: 4 photos of the mundane

Basically, I forgot about this challenge today until quite late on, so I took some photos (that's creative, right?). This post, for want of any other ideas, is about the supposed mundane. It can be beautiful. for instance, paint on a road. I once saw a whole book full of them. It was incredible (mostly the fact that someone actually published a book composed entirely of cracked yellow paint and old tarmac). Anyway, the moral of this story is that you can make something of nothing. A shitty old garden, egg and beans on toast and more shitty shots of my garden.

It does not bode well that I have already nearly lapsed on day two of this experiment. Never mind, 38 more days...

And so concludes the list of mundaneness (I prefer mundanity, but apparently it is not a word).

Day #1: Watch The Human Centipede

Yes, I am aware that most of the human population that wants to see/review this has, but it was on SYFY channel the other night... I wasn't actually going to watch it but the allure of a three-person-long digestive system... was too much.

Basic plot:

Surgeon expert in separating siamese twins becomes obsessed with the idea of conjoining several people (mouth to anus) and succeeds, trains them like pets, police become suspicious, everyone but the middle part of the centipede somehow end up dead.

Review:

I can honestly say that I have never spent so much of a film with my hand over my mouth in horror. Having made that casual statement, however, it wasn't as disgusting as I'd (expected? hoped to satisfy my grim fascination?) and as the film progressed, found myself becoming desensitized to the grotesque scenes of a Japanese tourist defecating through an American woman's mouth. However, the relentless whimpering of the two American women (the back two bits of the centipede), I did not. 

The soundtrack (usual ominous score for a horror film) was barely audible due to their constant, muffled shrieks. This was probably the reason I was on edge for the entire film. The language barriers were a constant theme of the film, really. The scientist being German, the front end of the centipede being Japanese and the two girls unable to speak as they were literally eating his shit meant that there was very little common ground, the exception being torture. 

The gore was not so bad - it was more the power of suggestion that would really make the viewers heave. The bout of almost simultaneous deaths at the end was really rather spectacular: the image of the two policemen floating in the basement swimming pool, bleeding; the last, stunned look of the scientist imprinted onto his face as he sits against the wall with a hole in his head; the look of terror and revulsion on the surviving part of the centipede: the middle girl, unable to speak or move.

Now to wait for the second part in grim anticipation.