It's the Final Countdown!

What’s changed since the start of semester?

Well, I’m officially a blogger with a whopping 24 posts. I don’t think I’ll keep it up after semester though; I guess I’m just not a journal keeper. I like the blogs that have a point to them (like this one) and I think the point for my blog is going to run out as soon as semester does. But it was fun while it lasted

I have become more aware of the millions of different things that can be done on, in, and with the internet. More than I could have imagined - it really is a huge place.

I don’t know if my writing has changed: I would say probably not. Maybe it’s been subtly influenced by various things and adapted slightly, but changed is probably too big a word.

I have completed an online unit which reminds me a little bit of the highschool study I did through SIDE (School of Isolated and Distance Education). In both cases a group of geographically spread out people independently study the same thing and then compare notes. In this case there was a lot more interaction, through WebCT and reading the blogs, and I guess we were a bit closer geographically.

However, it does make you realise that a lot of “new” things on the internet (like online study) are just new forms of old ideas.

No more Knobs!

I found a fantastic quote the other night from Dave Mustaine:

"I reached the point in the end where I didn't want to see another fader, and the only knob I wanted to play with was my own." -on remastering Rust in Peace

This is how I am starting to feel about my assignments. Not just this one, but all of them.

No more essays! No more typing! No more days spent in front of the computer! Enough already.

Only 16 days til the last one is due in.

Iron Prayers

Her Majesty the Queen sends a Christmas message to her people throughout the Commonwealth.
We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas (This is the song that never ends), we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year. Houston, we have a problem - Repetition here is going to be an issue. Repetition here is going be an issue.
“Do you ever have déjà vu, Mrs Lancaster?”
“I don’t think so but I could check with the kitchen.”
(Yes it goes on and on my friend)
This program is rated PG. The Nine Network recommends parental guidance for young viewers. It contains sexual references - Goody I wouldn’t be watching it otherwise - and mild coarse language – this language is going to need a loofah.
Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the lord my soul to keep…hush little baby, don’t say a word and never mind that noise you heard.
(Some people started singing it)
He’s having the worst day of his life…over and over again.
(Not knowing how it ends)
And if I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take.
“Cheese, Gromit, we forgot the cheese”
Encyclopaedia Metallum defines cheese metal as …
You should check out “Ride, Darkhorse Ride” for some of the cheesiest cheese around
Or “Iron Prayers”
Or “Through the fire and the Flames”
(And they’ll continue singing it forever just because)
Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight
(This is the song that never ends)
Goodnight and God Bless

Black and White

People think differently.

With so much room for creativity on the internet, is there room for non-creative stuff? Are linear narratives allowed on the web?

I guess even the name “web” really discourages it.

Is black text on white background an online crime?

Is there anything illegal about a nice neat orderly progression from start through to finish?

Maybe.

I read an article today about an artist who was so uninspired by the lack of art in Perth that it made him a better artist and he made more inspired art because of it. Maybe the vast space and room for creativity on the internet could be seen as a kind of void - tabula rasa style - and this lack of beginnings makes for better creative internet art.

Maybe.

Copy, right?

Ha ha ha, just found this article about SA police filesharing movies. Bless!

Personally I am way over our antiquated copyright laws. The reality of the situation is why would anyone pay money for music/movies/games etc when they can get them for free, especially if they feel that that money is lining the pockets of already wealthy record companies, producers, artists?

All the stuff in the news recently regarding iTunes has revealed that artists get 9c per song downloaded off iTunes. 9 whole cents? Of about a dollar. Where does the rest go??

It's all summed up pretty neatly by MC Lars in "Download This Song." This song would have to be one of my favourite just for the message in it. Sadly not so much for the music itself, but you can't have everything.

One Problem Remains:
What is the alternative? How can we make a copyright law that would pay the artist for their work somehow yet offer a competitive alternative to illegal downloading?

Collaborative Writing

I really like this site!
It kind of reminds me of the game in primary school where you fold a piece of paper in three, then one person draws a head, another draws a body and someone else draws some legs.

The Fairy Godmother

I could hear sobbing inside, and wondered if I would be welcome. I briefly thought about turning around and leaving the person sobbing in piece, but decided I had walked too far not to at least knock on the door. So I knocked. After a few moments she answered the door, eyes still wet. The smile on her face when she saw me let me know I had made the right decision. “Lisa!” she exclaimed, “Come in, the others have just left.” I went in and sat down at the kitchen table, while my host put the kettle on the range above the fire. I could see some old grey blankets kicked off to the side and wondered if they became her bed at night. “Where are the others tonight?” I asked

“They’ve gone to the big ball up at the castle. Apparently the Prince is looking for a bride and every girl in these parts wants to be the new Mrs. Charming.”

“How come you’re still here?” I asked my friend, “You’re beautiful, you’d beat them all hands down.”
Cinderella just laughed off my compliment, and explained that she’d had to finish the housework and even if she wanted to go the ball, she didn’t have a ball dress to wear. The kettle started whistling and she got up wearily and started pouring out tea for us. I looked at my friend and saw how red her hands were, probably from scrubbing laundry all day, and noticed how clean the house was and how it all smelt of furniture polish and floor cleaner.

“Right,” I said, and stood up. “You need a break girl. Don’t worry about the tea, do you have any hard spirits in this place?”

Cinderella just looked at me like I was mad. Though she did stop pouring tea. “Where’s the liquor cabinet?” I asked. She didn’t say anything, though I saw her glance quickly to her left. I followed her eyes and found a well stocked cabinet. Perfect. “Here’s the plan”, I said, “I’ve just been doing an inn keeping course in the next village and I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ll mix us some drinks while you go and get ready, there’s a new nightclub just opened down the road from here.”

I took stock of the liquor cabinet – it had just about everything I needed. First I mixed some honey liquor with pinkberry wine and a bit of salt. I poured two out, and got to work making the next set. Cinderella came back into the room just as I was pouring out the third set of cocktails. She was wearing the same ripped and torn dress she had been wearing before, but her face was cleaner and her hair was brushed. “I only have one dress” she said. “Never mind,” I replied, “just drink up. This first one is called a Mobster.” We swallowed the shot of sweet pink drink. “Next!” I cried theatrically and lined up the next two drinks. A blue one and a yellowish one. “First, for our drinking pleasure, we have a Fairy Godmother, and then, a Baby Duck.”

By the time we got to the club we were both swaying slightly as we walked. We had finished the cocktails in record time and helped ourselves to a few straight shots from the various bottles from the cabinet. I hoped the guards on the door would let us in; Cinderella’s dress really did look a bit old. We got in, and it turned out her dress, with its uneven hem, faded old pattern and strategic tears, was perfect for the club. The room noisy, crowded and smoky, and there were people with strange hairdos and bizarre outfits…

To be continued.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

So Proud!

I just made a website! I’m so proud! *Sniff* After all that google searching and html reading and trying to save word docs as text-only and so on, I’ve finally got one.

And it was a bit disappointing how easy it was. Joining the website owning ranks obviously no longer qualifies you as a computer savvy tech geek. My Grandma could’ve done it. In fact, my Mum already has - she made a website for her work ages ago. Oh well - there is still that exciting feeling of blankness ready to be filled. My website is a tabula rasa waiting for my inspiration.

Interactive Story

Wow, this is fantastic!
Completly redefines ideas of author, reader, and authorship, and has fun cartoons - a bonus. I guess the story is still pretty linear, but that's allowed! :)

Not So Genius!

Hmmm, despite playing around with the comic for a bit, and even trying to insert it as a picture, it still won't seem to fit nicely. Any suggestions?

Genius!

I've just worked out why I seem to be a week ahead. And why the week 6 lectures aren't up yet. Because it is teaching week 5, despite being week 6 of the semester. Aha!

Confusing, because my other units seem to count actual weeks, not just teaching weeks.
But now i get it, and feel so stupid i have to smack my palm against my head - duh!

Writing on the Internet Part 2

Discovery #4 - Writing on the Internet

Writing on the internet is fun. Funner than, say, writing my other essay which is boring.
It's the same old essay format - thesis statment, linking sentence, topic sentence, supporting argument, blah blah blah, conclusion.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

I am a vicious guard dog
I prowl the yard
Sniffing
Stalking
Attacking
Nothing gets past me,
For I am
DANGEROUS

I once ripped a cat from
Ears to tail
And ate it in chunks
Blood and fur

All over the yard
That was a good day
For me

I am a collection of muscles
Nothing but power
Nothing but force
I am the law

My pet Charlie, asleep.
Look how cute his little paws are

Let's Hack Reality

One phrase really stuck out for me in this week’s reading. Mr. Amerika (is that his real name?) said something about the writing on the net and its “opportunity to hack reality”. Hmmm…

I suppose there are many instances of internet stuff where the simulation becomes more real than the real – like paying real money to acquire WoW stuff, or feeling more at home in your game (whatever game it might be) than in the “real” world.
Baudrillard would have a field day!

Reflection

I found it really hard to come up with something for the hyperlink exercise because I wanted the links to be an integral part of the writing, instead of optional extras. This way, the reader has to click on the link if they want to keep reading the text. The writing itself is unlikely to get any creativity awards, but I was concentrating on the links instead. It would be fun to do a really big one of these, if you had the time and the inclination. It would be even easier if I could set up a web page, instead of creating a new blog for each choice, but this was too technical for me. At one stage I did wonder if I ought to feel guilty for having so many blogs, but I guess this is an old fashioned point of view. Like when your Mum doesn’t want to ring on a mobile because it will use up all the credit, even though you have a plan anyway :)

Choose Your Own Adventure

The day starts like any other. You wake up, eat breakfast, kiss your Mum goodbye and head to uni. Your brother sometimes drives you to uni in his van, but this morning he is still out delivering newspapers. So you walk. As you are walking down your street you notice an old suitcase on the ground. It looks strangely familiar, like something you would've owned as a kid, or like a generic suticase you would've seen on a TV show at some point. You open it up and are amazed to find it's full of money!! You've never seen this much money before and you are unsure what to do.
You know you should probably hand it in to the police
though part of you is tempted to keep it. After all, you found it.

Hey!

zsx6y7,l. op0 yhg4e3 "Hey! Off the keyboard, cat!!"


Discovery #3 - Pets cannot type.

I wonder whether a thousand monkeys typing for a thousand years really would produce the works of shakespeare. Methinks not.

Who Am I?

My task for today was to find out this: Who Am I?

To answer it I did what I always do first when I need an answer… Google has about 134,000,000 answers, while Wikipedia only had one which seemed to be about a film with Jackie Chan in. I’m pretty sure I’m not a film and I’m quite sure I’ve never had Jackie Chan in.

My next thought was that I could somehow correlate the answers from every magazine and Facebook quiz I have ever done and come up with an identity. So I did “Are you hard work or just high maintenance?” off the Cleo website, then “how vein are you?” and then “what type of drink are you?” and “which planeteer are you?” in Facebook. Apparently I’m “Linka, the moderately vein beer who is not quite high maintenance”. Not quite what I was hoping for.

Correlating quiz answers isn’t working for me – I’ve decided to choose my own answers. I figure labels are never going to be able to describe a person completely, and I figure that identity is never stable anyway.

Quote: “You cannot step into the same river twice. When I step into the river for the second time, neither I nor the river are the same.

Also: “People are like teabags. You never know how strong they are until you put them in hot water.”

As well: “Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into jet engines”

The quote about stepping in the river shows that each new experience changes you a bit, and that you can’t un-experience or non-experience something. If our identity is the sum of our experiences, then it is always changing, adapting, shifting.

The quote about teabags shows that we probably don’t know ourselves and our identity completely anyway. Who can say how they would react for certain in an extreme situation, and who knows how that situation would change them.

The quote about eagles really just illustrates that sometimes it’s good not to fly.

Writing on the Internet

Discovery #2 – Writing on the Internet

They’re is no spill chequer on this html composer ting. I have discofered that I have comme to relie on the spell chicken in Wurd.

Reading on the Internet

Discovery #1 - Reading on the Internet

Reading on the internet is completely different to reading a book. I very rarely read blocks of text off a webpage. Instead, I find that my eyes are somehow drawn to the more interesting or appealing looking text. When I read a web page, my eyes will scan the screen quickly and located what seems to be the more important text – the words that are highlighted or bold. It seems only logical that my eyes – and therefore my brain – are drawn to these more appealing words in the same way that moths are attracted to a flame at night time. I suppose that because writing on the internet offers so many interesting ways to emphasis certain words, so many more options with regards to making the text and the reading experience more exciting and eye-catching (what an appropriate phrase!) that I come to expect writing on the internet to play with the text a bit and make the important ideas stand out.

Thoughts on Suburbs

I once read a book, I’m not sure what it was called, and in this book the main character is walking down the streets of some suburb or other in the day time. And this character says something like, “during the day, you can feel souls rotting in the suburbs.” I’m not sure exactly what the quote was, or even what the rest of the book was about, but that quote really stuck in my mind.

I think about it a lot, especially when I find myself walking in my suburb in the daytime, which I do almost everyday.

There are a few reasons for this

I am a uni student

I work at night time

I own a dog which is half a kelpie (which half? ha ha ha) and needs to be taken out everyday

So anyway, I walk down the streets and see noone, and when even when I get to the dog park I am normally the only one there. If I do see other people they easily fit the daytime demographic - old people or Mum’s with young kids. I think that it must be pretty soul-rotting to be a Mum-with-young-kids living in the suburbs in the daytime, after all - noone actually LIVES in the suburbs in the daytime. The word that I think of when I walk my dog is lifelessness.

Weekends are a different story