Inlägg
I'm just going to throw it out there. Today was a really shitty day. I woke up feeling kind of numb, neither happy nor sad or even slightly annoyed at the early hour. That's usually a good sign something's not right in my world. Anyone who knows me could tell you that if I'm not in the kind of mood where I'd bite someone's head off if they so much as glanced at me when I got up early in the morning, something is definitely off.
I think I managed to keep a fairly straight face at work. I kept up a fairly good tempo and even managed to sell. But as soon as I got home everything just kind of crashed down on me. Still feeling slightly numb, and extremely exhausted, I took what has become my routine nap. And when I woke up a few hours later, instead of feeling somewhat refreshed I felt like I just wanted to crawl into a dark corner. The thought of having to get up from bed and drive to the stables had me on the verge of tears. Still, I had to. My horse is my responsibility, one I've gladly chosen to take upon me. But there are days...
Anyhow, I got dressed, feeling choked up and tired, and drove the 20 minute drive to the stables. I got there, chatted a bit with the absolutely wonderful owner of the stable. I'm pretty sure she noticed something was off but understood enough not to push. Either way, I managed to keep it down. Then I went into the stable to clean out my horse's stall. My horse was already inside and apparently he, too, felt that I was not feeling at my best. He chose a slightly different route of handling it, though.
If he could he probably would've crawled into my lap. But since he weighs in at about 550 kg he probably figured it'd be counter-productive. So instead he pressed up really close to me and pressed his muzzle against my shoulder and just stood there, snoozing on me. That's when it all uncoiled within me. Thankfully the stable was empty of other people, only the horses were there to see (or rather hear) me sob into my horse's mane. And he just stood there, cuter than cute itself, somehow knowing that this was what I needed. Once he sensed that the worst had passed he turned into his usual mischievous self, demanding to be scratched and placing himself in between me and the wheelbarrow so I had to twist around him while cleaning. When the stable owner's daughter came back with her horse I felt collected enough to chat and smile again. And as I drove home I felt a lot lighter, more centred. I'm still feeling pretty down in the dumps but it's not as stifling as it was before I went there.
Today, and similar occurrences in the past when I've had rough times, really got me thinking. It's amazing how animals just seem to instinctively know exactly the how and when to behave a certain way in order to cheer their humans up. You can fool another human, you can pretend to be strong, and manage to hide so much. But, no matter how good you think you are at it, an animal always knows when life's been handing you lemons. And they know the perfect recipe for a tasty lemonade.
Animals give selflessly of themselves. Of course, I'm pretty sure they're subconsciously aware of the fact that they are more or less dependent on us humans. And most living beings know to keep the hand that feeds them, whether directly or indirectly, in a good mood. However, animals always seem to go the extra distance. They put themselves out there for us. They tolerate so many things that are otherwise foreign and strange to them, just because their human asks them to. And they are always there to lend their quiet, warm support when their human is feeling decidedly cold and heavy, and just needs a silent oasis to breathe in.
When animals give so much, why is it that there are still so many humans out there clinging to this medieval belief that animals are worth less than humans, are less "intelligent", and think that because of that us "intelligent" humans have the right to use, abuse and oppress the animals? What makes us humans so much better that we feel we have the right to treat animals as things, soulless items? It only takes a quick glance into the eye of a horse, or a cat, or a dog, or whatever animal you encounter (that have big enough eyes to look into) to realise that if there's one thing animals DO have, it's definitely a soul.
How on Earth can we call ourselves the most intelligent creature, just because we've invented a lot of stuff (that in actuality most often serves to destroy the very world we live in) and can speak in words? What's saying that the sounds and signals horses, for example, use to communicate aren't more advanced than a human word? Just because we don't understand their language on an "intelligent" level we decide that they're lower than us because they can't speak human language. But, come on. Animals may not speak in human language, they may not sit there and write multi-page essays on the world economy or whatever, but they sure as hell know what we're talking about when we speak. They understand us a lot better than we seem to even understand ourselves. And, let's face it, unlike human languages, animals speak more or less universal languages. A horse from the USA may be put together with a horse from the open plains of Mongolia and instead of getting caught up in which country, or race, is the better while talking in two different languages, the horses just simply go in there, look at each other, maybe scuffle a bit and sooner rather than later they've reached a perfect understanding. Can we humans claim to be able to do the same?
So what does all this say about humans and animals? Humans can speak in human language, and write on papers, but cannot in general understand the animal languages and all their facets. In fact, often humans can barely understand each other. Animals have their own languages, intricate, intrinsic and effective for what they need it for. They can read minuscule changes in stature, tone of voice and intonation, without getting caught up in regional differences. They understand human language, connecting it to the signals they can read, and adjust their behaviour accordingly without even missing a beat.
So, really, who are the truly intelligent beings in our world?
måndag 21 februari 2011
söndag 20 februari 2011
Recycled renewal
First of all, I won't lie to you when I warn you that there might be a slight flavour of bitterness in this post. Just consider yourself duly warned.
I feel like I often stumble upon the word "renewal" when I read employment ads, business descriptions and the likes. The word isn't always spelled out but there nonetheless, in between the lines. It's made me wonder. Being an unemployed journalist I often find myself reflecting over journalism in general, trends within the area and currents conditions on the employment market.
This is just my personal opinion but to me it feels like the word "renewal" has taken on a slightly different meaning than the word should have where journalism is concerned. Considering the difficulties for young, "green" journalists to land a steady job, or being noticed by the more or less institutionalised news desks in the first place, I can't help but feel sad. I've, on more than one occasion, half-jokingly said that journalists are the only ones who never truly retire. It seems to me that the older you are, the more attractive you'll get where media is concerned. I am fully aware that it often comes down to the whole experience and social connections/networking thing. When you're older you're more likely to have more connections to draw on for a story. However, since the young journalists are so seldom given the chance to get into the business to learn they are also inadvertently prohibited from creating those important connections. And in the end the established, "experienced" journalists more or less just does a side-step between the news desks, wildly heralded that they'll bring new ideas to their work place, while the new, fresh journalists stand outside, looking in and hoping against hope that they'd at least get paid for whatever freelance article they've managed to create.
Within established Swedish media "Renewal" seems to, disturbingly enough, have become a new synonym for "recycling". The established journalists are recycled or the news desks just cling on to their aging, "experienced" work force. The thing is, I often happen upon articles brimming with such a sense of blasé weariness, kind of like "Yeah. I wrote about that same thing, just with another company, last year. I can probably use the same style in the text today", it just makes me want to shake my head. There's no sense of urgency, desire for action or interest for new angles. It all just rolls on in a never-ending hamster wheel where the same old texts, wordings and angles are recycled over and over. Where's the "renewal" in that?
Which brings me to another pondering I've had in the dark hours of the night. During my studies in journalism we were once told that journalism was often considered a reflection of reality. And maybe it is although, looking at the articles published on the web or in established, printed media, I get the feeling that reality is more and more being reflected through a tinted glass. Once upon a time journalists were the nightmares haunting the minds of corrupt politicians and corporations all over the world. The journalists could, with one skilfully and timely placed wording, overthrow plans that had taken years to concoct. And the journalists thrived on that. The public knew where to turn in order to find out what was going on behind the polished doors of government buildings and corporate conference rooms. Lately, though, media seems to have been domesticated, tamed. Instead of pushing ahead, digging into archives, protocols and anonymous tips the journalists seem to spend more and more time reporting on the obvious. They seem too afraid (or too tired by the sick workload caused by "potentiating", forcing less people to do more work) of the powers that be, the government, the corporations practically owning the established news media of today, to actually dare to stick their chins out and write about what they're really seeing, or instinctively sensing.
On another note, a reflection can never be reality. I think we all know that already. If you're facing a mirror and raise your left hand, your brain tells you that the hand being raised by the reflection is also a left hand. However, had the reflection been another person instead, that left hand would've in all actuality have been their right hand. In order for it to be a true reflection you would have to stand with your back against the mirror and still somehow be reflected from the front. Otherwise it's merely a case of your brain supplying the answer where the mirror is messing with your perception. So what does this mean? Somehow I can't help but draw parallels to the philosophical tree in the forest. If a tree falls in the forest but no one's there to listen, does it still make a sound? If a mirror is reflecting something but no one is there to see it, or doesn't have the brain to supply the information of that skewed image, is it still reflecting reality?
And with that I'll end this rather fragmented ramble before my brain decides to fool me into thinking I'm seeing things I'm not. I'll leave you with a quote I found in one of the books I've read lately:
I feel like I often stumble upon the word "renewal" when I read employment ads, business descriptions and the likes. The word isn't always spelled out but there nonetheless, in between the lines. It's made me wonder. Being an unemployed journalist I often find myself reflecting over journalism in general, trends within the area and currents conditions on the employment market.
This is just my personal opinion but to me it feels like the word "renewal" has taken on a slightly different meaning than the word should have where journalism is concerned. Considering the difficulties for young, "green" journalists to land a steady job, or being noticed by the more or less institutionalised news desks in the first place, I can't help but feel sad. I've, on more than one occasion, half-jokingly said that journalists are the only ones who never truly retire. It seems to me that the older you are, the more attractive you'll get where media is concerned. I am fully aware that it often comes down to the whole experience and social connections/networking thing. When you're older you're more likely to have more connections to draw on for a story. However, since the young journalists are so seldom given the chance to get into the business to learn they are also inadvertently prohibited from creating those important connections. And in the end the established, "experienced" journalists more or less just does a side-step between the news desks, wildly heralded that they'll bring new ideas to their work place, while the new, fresh journalists stand outside, looking in and hoping against hope that they'd at least get paid for whatever freelance article they've managed to create.
Within established Swedish media "Renewal" seems to, disturbingly enough, have become a new synonym for "recycling". The established journalists are recycled or the news desks just cling on to their aging, "experienced" work force. The thing is, I often happen upon articles brimming with such a sense of blasé weariness, kind of like "Yeah. I wrote about that same thing, just with another company, last year. I can probably use the same style in the text today", it just makes me want to shake my head. There's no sense of urgency, desire for action or interest for new angles. It all just rolls on in a never-ending hamster wheel where the same old texts, wordings and angles are recycled over and over. Where's the "renewal" in that?
Which brings me to another pondering I've had in the dark hours of the night. During my studies in journalism we were once told that journalism was often considered a reflection of reality. And maybe it is although, looking at the articles published on the web or in established, printed media, I get the feeling that reality is more and more being reflected through a tinted glass. Once upon a time journalists were the nightmares haunting the minds of corrupt politicians and corporations all over the world. The journalists could, with one skilfully and timely placed wording, overthrow plans that had taken years to concoct. And the journalists thrived on that. The public knew where to turn in order to find out what was going on behind the polished doors of government buildings and corporate conference rooms. Lately, though, media seems to have been domesticated, tamed. Instead of pushing ahead, digging into archives, protocols and anonymous tips the journalists seem to spend more and more time reporting on the obvious. They seem too afraid (or too tired by the sick workload caused by "potentiating", forcing less people to do more work) of the powers that be, the government, the corporations practically owning the established news media of today, to actually dare to stick their chins out and write about what they're really seeing, or instinctively sensing.
On another note, a reflection can never be reality. I think we all know that already. If you're facing a mirror and raise your left hand, your brain tells you that the hand being raised by the reflection is also a left hand. However, had the reflection been another person instead, that left hand would've in all actuality have been their right hand. In order for it to be a true reflection you would have to stand with your back against the mirror and still somehow be reflected from the front. Otherwise it's merely a case of your brain supplying the answer where the mirror is messing with your perception. So what does this mean? Somehow I can't help but draw parallels to the philosophical tree in the forest. If a tree falls in the forest but no one's there to listen, does it still make a sound? If a mirror is reflecting something but no one is there to see it, or doesn't have the brain to supply the information of that skewed image, is it still reflecting reality?
And with that I'll end this rather fragmented ramble before my brain decides to fool me into thinking I'm seeing things I'm not. I'll leave you with a quote I found in one of the books I've read lately:
"[...]Even the clearest mirror reverses right to left" - from the book The Door Into Fire by author Diane Duane
fredag 18 februari 2011
Boys (and girls) be ambitious?
I was getting ready to go to the stables this evening when all of a sudden I was struck by the sudden thought:
"What have I done with my life?"
And then, as I was driving to the stables, I was overcome with a sense of surreality. To realise that I am 25 years old and wondering what I've done with my life... What the heck?!
I am sometimes overcome with a feeling of restless impatience, as if I should be somewhere I'm not. And the reason I'm not where I should be is because I haven't done what I should've done earlier. I have missed opportunities, made wrong turns and so on. But at the same time I can't help but feel how impossibly stupid it is to think like that. If you ask my family and friends they'd tell you that I have always seemed to know what I want to do and where I'm headed. Looking back at old diaries and the likes I sometimes laugh at how straight a line my life has been. Ever since early childhood I liked to write and draw. At age 7 I wrote in my diary that I wanted to be a journalist. Today I am a journalist, or at least I have gotten the education of one even though I currently am not employed as one. I have never flitted about, trying things out, like many others seem to have done. I've kept a red thread throughout my life, with the occasional twirl. I might not have thought it at the time but everything I've done in the past seems to somehow have led me up to this place where I'm at now. I should be happy and satisfied. I've obviously managed to find out what I want to do and gone on to find ways to get there, without even realising it myself. And yet I feel like I should be somewhere else, even though I have no idea where or why I should be at that place. Or why I should feel like I've already missed my chances despite being only 25 years old.
The thing is, however, that I sometimes get this feeling that the society at large expects you to be well into your life and career by this age. You should already have working experience (forget about getting a job if you don't have it... even though you can't get experience until you get a job) and have started thinking ahead several steps. You should be hungry, ambitious and always looking ahead for the next big step.
I'm not a go-getter. I really am not. Which makes my chosen career as a journalist kind of tricky since nowadays the only jobs within journalism seem to be freelance gigs, chasing the news with a magnifying glass and a lasso. I am not a chaser in that regard. I do not lie awake at night, pondering and analysing the goings-on around me. I do not often look around me and wonder how I can find a newsworthy angle on the copious amounts of road construction going on in my town right now. I have no ambitions to unmask corrupt politicians, unravel the wicked plans of major corporations to fool the people or even catch a big name doing something they shouldn't be doing. I do not wish to be in the middle of the action at the battlefields around the world. I am not aiming to change the world. If one person could do it, it would've already been well under way (or that is my opinion at least).
My ambitions are modest to say the least. I am happy as long as I have a steady income which enables me to comfortably pay my bills, eat and make sure my animals get whatsoever they may need. If I like my job... all the better. It's not a requirement at this point, however. I'm game as long as I at least can feel I can do my job, earn my pay and not have to worry each day whether I'll have money to pay my rent once next month comes a-knockin' on my door with knuckle dusters. My dream job as a journalist hasn't got a thing to do with "The BIG SCOOP". I want to be the journalist that comes into the office every day, checks my mail and then goes out to do an article on the city council meeting or the neighbourhood festival that day. I want to write about the everyday news, about what's going on around me, in the community I live in. And at the end of the day I want to go home and feel like I did the best I could today to give the people I see on the streets around me something to talk about in between coming home from work and going to bed. Or over breakfast. I want to be the kind of journalist that makes people think: "Oh, I didn't know we had something like that just around the corner", "Oh my, did our mayor really think it would be a good idea to suggest that at the meeting yesterday?" or "How about we go out on Saturday and check out that park they recently opened downtown?". I'll gladly let others chase down the big news and stay in my little corner of the world writing about the news that, on a global (or maybe even national scale), are just drops of water in the sea.
The problem is, there doesn't seem to be any call for such journalists. If you're not constantly on the move, searching and chasing, you're not ambitious enough.
Fine. I'm not ambitious, we've already established that. But isn't that a good thing?
At least I won't be switching jobs every third month. I won't go chasing the better job, the higher pay (that's not to say I wouldn't like having a nice, fat salary but it's not a complete must). If I find a steady job where I can relax and be myself I will stay loyal, I will stay steady and do my best within the frame for that job. Sure, I may or may not come with the occasional suggestion for eventual improvements but I will be happy as long as I can feel safe in my job, feel like I can do it well enough and receive an occasional pat on the back. I would love to be the inventory employee, the one who's always there, steady and reliable but maybe not all that exciting all the time. Why isn't there any employers out there who seem to know how to appreciate the potential for firm loyalty and steadfastness?
The title for this post, by the way, is a quote from one William S. Clark who managed to do a lot in his life. It is said that the quote came about as Clark took his farewells of his students and co-workers at the Sapporo Agricultural College (nowadays called Hokkaido University) in Japan. The reason I chose that title (and added the "girls" part since he'd apparently only addressed males) was because I can't help but wonder why there seem to be such an obsession with ambition. Ambition is good, don't get me wrong. But there are more kinds of ambition than the "go-getter", constantly looking for the next big thing/change the world-type. I feel like we should remember and appreciate that potential for diversity.
"What have I done with my life?"
And then, as I was driving to the stables, I was overcome with a sense of surreality. To realise that I am 25 years old and wondering what I've done with my life... What the heck?!
I am sometimes overcome with a feeling of restless impatience, as if I should be somewhere I'm not. And the reason I'm not where I should be is because I haven't done what I should've done earlier. I have missed opportunities, made wrong turns and so on. But at the same time I can't help but feel how impossibly stupid it is to think like that. If you ask my family and friends they'd tell you that I have always seemed to know what I want to do and where I'm headed. Looking back at old diaries and the likes I sometimes laugh at how straight a line my life has been. Ever since early childhood I liked to write and draw. At age 7 I wrote in my diary that I wanted to be a journalist. Today I am a journalist, or at least I have gotten the education of one even though I currently am not employed as one. I have never flitted about, trying things out, like many others seem to have done. I've kept a red thread throughout my life, with the occasional twirl. I might not have thought it at the time but everything I've done in the past seems to somehow have led me up to this place where I'm at now. I should be happy and satisfied. I've obviously managed to find out what I want to do and gone on to find ways to get there, without even realising it myself. And yet I feel like I should be somewhere else, even though I have no idea where or why I should be at that place. Or why I should feel like I've already missed my chances despite being only 25 years old.
The thing is, however, that I sometimes get this feeling that the society at large expects you to be well into your life and career by this age. You should already have working experience (forget about getting a job if you don't have it... even though you can't get experience until you get a job) and have started thinking ahead several steps. You should be hungry, ambitious and always looking ahead for the next big step.
I'm not a go-getter. I really am not. Which makes my chosen career as a journalist kind of tricky since nowadays the only jobs within journalism seem to be freelance gigs, chasing the news with a magnifying glass and a lasso. I am not a chaser in that regard. I do not lie awake at night, pondering and analysing the goings-on around me. I do not often look around me and wonder how I can find a newsworthy angle on the copious amounts of road construction going on in my town right now. I have no ambitions to unmask corrupt politicians, unravel the wicked plans of major corporations to fool the people or even catch a big name doing something they shouldn't be doing. I do not wish to be in the middle of the action at the battlefields around the world. I am not aiming to change the world. If one person could do it, it would've already been well under way (or that is my opinion at least).
My ambitions are modest to say the least. I am happy as long as I have a steady income which enables me to comfortably pay my bills, eat and make sure my animals get whatsoever they may need. If I like my job... all the better. It's not a requirement at this point, however. I'm game as long as I at least can feel I can do my job, earn my pay and not have to worry each day whether I'll have money to pay my rent once next month comes a-knockin' on my door with knuckle dusters. My dream job as a journalist hasn't got a thing to do with "The BIG SCOOP". I want to be the journalist that comes into the office every day, checks my mail and then goes out to do an article on the city council meeting or the neighbourhood festival that day. I want to write about the everyday news, about what's going on around me, in the community I live in. And at the end of the day I want to go home and feel like I did the best I could today to give the people I see on the streets around me something to talk about in between coming home from work and going to bed. Or over breakfast. I want to be the kind of journalist that makes people think: "Oh, I didn't know we had something like that just around the corner", "Oh my, did our mayor really think it would be a good idea to suggest that at the meeting yesterday?" or "How about we go out on Saturday and check out that park they recently opened downtown?". I'll gladly let others chase down the big news and stay in my little corner of the world writing about the news that, on a global (or maybe even national scale), are just drops of water in the sea.
The problem is, there doesn't seem to be any call for such journalists. If you're not constantly on the move, searching and chasing, you're not ambitious enough.
Fine. I'm not ambitious, we've already established that. But isn't that a good thing?
At least I won't be switching jobs every third month. I won't go chasing the better job, the higher pay (that's not to say I wouldn't like having a nice, fat salary but it's not a complete must). If I find a steady job where I can relax and be myself I will stay loyal, I will stay steady and do my best within the frame for that job. Sure, I may or may not come with the occasional suggestion for eventual improvements but I will be happy as long as I can feel safe in my job, feel like I can do it well enough and receive an occasional pat on the back. I would love to be the inventory employee, the one who's always there, steady and reliable but maybe not all that exciting all the time. Why isn't there any employers out there who seem to know how to appreciate the potential for firm loyalty and steadfastness?
The title for this post, by the way, is a quote from one William S. Clark who managed to do a lot in his life. It is said that the quote came about as Clark took his farewells of his students and co-workers at the Sapporo Agricultural College (nowadays called Hokkaido University) in Japan. The reason I chose that title (and added the "girls" part since he'd apparently only addressed males) was because I can't help but wonder why there seem to be such an obsession with ambition. Ambition is good, don't get me wrong. But there are more kinds of ambition than the "go-getter", constantly looking for the next big thing/change the world-type. I feel like we should remember and appreciate that potential for diversity.
lördag 4 december 2010
Musical musings
There's been a lot of talk about the re-formation of the old boy band Take That on the radio lately. As I usually listen to the radio while doing the chores in the stable I can't help but hear and make some personal reflections over it.
I find this whole boy-/girl band phenomena quite fascinating. Most fascinating of all in my opinion is how people can actually tell the bands apart. To me, they all seem to be same same, without any difference, other than maybe their accents.
Firstly, they're all built up around the same sort of line-up. There's always a "cute pretty-boy"; a "sensitive, poetically inclined guy with slightly brooding eyes"; a "hip/cool guy with street attitude"; a "bad boy" and then most often a fifth member that is cast in various other roles but seldom especially noticeable.
Backstreet boys is, to me, a glaringly obvious example of these roles. They had five members when they first began. There was Nick, the "cute pretty-boy"; Brian, the "sensitive, poetically inclined guy"; A.J, the "cool guy", Kevin, the "bad boy" and Howie (whom I really never got a hang of, not being that into the band more than to note these stereotypical roles). Looking at pics today I can't help but wonder if he was cast in the role as the "open-minded, sweet friend".
Secondly, the bands usually deal with the same type of lyrics about love, pain, romance and various other, to me quite sappy, subjects. And all of them seem to have eaten chalk to get those soft, sweet voices supposed to caress the ears of the adoring audience. Personally I've always felt sleepy when hearing it, unless I'm busy cringing over the complete lack of depth and originality in their lyrics. Or, for that matter, the paradox of hearing the "bad boy" sing like that. While he may look the part, the part doesn't fit into the music they sing.
And thirdly, they always do those, yet again in my opinion, silly little choreographed dances, all the while smiling soulfully/wickedly/sweetly and so on according to their roles and what they're singing at the time. I do admit that I have sometimes felt impressed by their stamina and agility while doing those choreographies, but since the steps are so similar between bands I actually haven't paid enough attention to the actual techniques.
To return to the first part of this post, Take That was a bit before my time, but not that much before it (Boyzone and later Backstreet Boys were the big boy bands during my teenage years). Still, I've heard enough of Take That's early works to be able to discern some patterns. I think that what they had going for them was, as one of the main things, the rather distinctive voice of Robbie Williams. I'm not surprised he's managed to do so well on his own. Other than that they all had the looks "suitable" for a boy band, attracting teenage girls of most types. However, looking at their pictures today, after the re-formation, I just have to raise the question... Can they still be considered a boy band? They're far from pretty any longer, a few of them could be what is politely called "distinguished" and, granted, Robbie Williams seems to have either been graced by good genes or plastic surgery (I don't know enough to say which although I suspect a little bit of both), but overall there's no getting around it. They're middle aged men trying to sing like they did xx years ago. Once again, what they have going for them is Robbie Williams's voice. Listening to their new release "The Flood" however makes it glaringly obvious to me that whatever they once were as a band, Robbie Williams has grown too large for them. Meaning that while one almost immediately recognises Williams's voice, the others feel more like background noise, indistinguishable from each other and without any specific trait to mark one from the other. So, rather than the re-formed Take That, it feels like it's Robbie Williams and his back-up crew. I might be overly harsh and some might argue that I'm way off my rocker and out of line for saying it, but that's what it feels like. So once again I raise a question, if a once popular boy band re-form after xx amount of years doing their own stuff separate from each other, what genre would they then belong to? And why do it? Boy bands have a best before date nowadays. Just like so much of the music today.
Which brings me to my second reflection:
I once got into a discussion with my teacher about music. I said that I didn't think there had been any actually good music released in the western market since 1995. I still mostly stand by that opinion, even though I've since had to admit there are some exceptions to the general rule (the song Hero of War by Rise Against being a most obvious such exception to me, thanks to its very interesting lyrics and the simple music supporting it).
The thing is, I generally feel that with the music of (mainly) the 60's and 70's the artists had a cause. They often used music to raise the overall awareness of what went on in the world. Issues like war, injustice, bigotry and so on came alive in the songs and together, the song and the meaning behind it, made a whole. And since the artists really believed in what they sang the songs have an impact even today, even if some of the issues might not be very topical of today's society.
If I was to put a picture or metaphor to the different decades of music I'd say that the 60's and 70's were all about fire and glam. Fiery passion, beliefs and the hope to make a difference. Or glitter, glamour and sass.
The music of the 80's and 90's feels a little bit dirty, gritty like the aftermath of the heated glamour-party of their predecessors. Like a sequinned dress lying forgotten on the dance floor among deflated balloons and leftover food, with a bottle of alcohol next to it.
The music of the late 90's to the present feels, to me, like plastic, like Tupperware. Practical, useful for the moment but easily discarded and forgotten. Mass-produced music with recycled or nonsensical lyrics, lacking most of any real content or feeling, has become mainstream and a song's worth seems to be judged by how often it is played on the radio in a day, never mind the fact that the song doesn't sound much different from any other song that day. Meticulously manufactured, uniform music is practically flooding the Western world with the aroma of American Idol (and its' spin-offs). If music is supposed to reflect the people and the contemporary society... what does it say about us that the hit lists are topped by these recycled, easy-listening kind of songs?
I find this whole boy-/girl band phenomena quite fascinating. Most fascinating of all in my opinion is how people can actually tell the bands apart. To me, they all seem to be same same, without any difference, other than maybe their accents.
Firstly, they're all built up around the same sort of line-up. There's always a "cute pretty-boy"; a "sensitive, poetically inclined guy with slightly brooding eyes"; a "hip/cool guy with street attitude"; a "bad boy" and then most often a fifth member that is cast in various other roles but seldom especially noticeable.
Backstreet boys is, to me, a glaringly obvious example of these roles. They had five members when they first began. There was Nick, the "cute pretty-boy"; Brian, the "sensitive, poetically inclined guy"; A.J, the "cool guy", Kevin, the "bad boy" and Howie (whom I really never got a hang of, not being that into the band more than to note these stereotypical roles). Looking at pics today I can't help but wonder if he was cast in the role as the "open-minded, sweet friend".
Secondly, the bands usually deal with the same type of lyrics about love, pain, romance and various other, to me quite sappy, subjects. And all of them seem to have eaten chalk to get those soft, sweet voices supposed to caress the ears of the adoring audience. Personally I've always felt sleepy when hearing it, unless I'm busy cringing over the complete lack of depth and originality in their lyrics. Or, for that matter, the paradox of hearing the "bad boy" sing like that. While he may look the part, the part doesn't fit into the music they sing.
And thirdly, they always do those, yet again in my opinion, silly little choreographed dances, all the while smiling soulfully/wickedly/sweetly and so on according to their roles and what they're singing at the time. I do admit that I have sometimes felt impressed by their stamina and agility while doing those choreographies, but since the steps are so similar between bands I actually haven't paid enough attention to the actual techniques.
To return to the first part of this post, Take That was a bit before my time, but not that much before it (Boyzone and later Backstreet Boys were the big boy bands during my teenage years). Still, I've heard enough of Take That's early works to be able to discern some patterns. I think that what they had going for them was, as one of the main things, the rather distinctive voice of Robbie Williams. I'm not surprised he's managed to do so well on his own. Other than that they all had the looks "suitable" for a boy band, attracting teenage girls of most types. However, looking at their pictures today, after the re-formation, I just have to raise the question... Can they still be considered a boy band? They're far from pretty any longer, a few of them could be what is politely called "distinguished" and, granted, Robbie Williams seems to have either been graced by good genes or plastic surgery (I don't know enough to say which although I suspect a little bit of both), but overall there's no getting around it. They're middle aged men trying to sing like they did xx years ago. Once again, what they have going for them is Robbie Williams's voice. Listening to their new release "The Flood" however makes it glaringly obvious to me that whatever they once were as a band, Robbie Williams has grown too large for them. Meaning that while one almost immediately recognises Williams's voice, the others feel more like background noise, indistinguishable from each other and without any specific trait to mark one from the other. So, rather than the re-formed Take That, it feels like it's Robbie Williams and his back-up crew. I might be overly harsh and some might argue that I'm way off my rocker and out of line for saying it, but that's what it feels like. So once again I raise a question, if a once popular boy band re-form after xx amount of years doing their own stuff separate from each other, what genre would they then belong to? And why do it? Boy bands have a best before date nowadays. Just like so much of the music today.
Which brings me to my second reflection:
I once got into a discussion with my teacher about music. I said that I didn't think there had been any actually good music released in the western market since 1995. I still mostly stand by that opinion, even though I've since had to admit there are some exceptions to the general rule (the song Hero of War by Rise Against being a most obvious such exception to me, thanks to its very interesting lyrics and the simple music supporting it).
The thing is, I generally feel that with the music of (mainly) the 60's and 70's the artists had a cause. They often used music to raise the overall awareness of what went on in the world. Issues like war, injustice, bigotry and so on came alive in the songs and together, the song and the meaning behind it, made a whole. And since the artists really believed in what they sang the songs have an impact even today, even if some of the issues might not be very topical of today's society.
If I was to put a picture or metaphor to the different decades of music I'd say that the 60's and 70's were all about fire and glam. Fiery passion, beliefs and the hope to make a difference. Or glitter, glamour and sass.
The music of the 80's and 90's feels a little bit dirty, gritty like the aftermath of the heated glamour-party of their predecessors. Like a sequinned dress lying forgotten on the dance floor among deflated balloons and leftover food, with a bottle of alcohol next to it.
The music of the late 90's to the present feels, to me, like plastic, like Tupperware. Practical, useful for the moment but easily discarded and forgotten. Mass-produced music with recycled or nonsensical lyrics, lacking most of any real content or feeling, has become mainstream and a song's worth seems to be judged by how often it is played on the radio in a day, never mind the fact that the song doesn't sound much different from any other song that day. Meticulously manufactured, uniform music is practically flooding the Western world with the aroma of American Idol (and its' spin-offs). If music is supposed to reflect the people and the contemporary society... what does it say about us that the hit lists are topped by these recycled, easy-listening kind of songs?
måndag 30 augusti 2010
I should've been born before technology
It's a bit of a standing joke within my family that I am pure death on technology. I barely have to touch my technological stuff (let alone actually turn it on and work on it) before it crashes, breaks, go bonkers or just plain annoys the hell out of me. And it always happens when I have the least financial abilities to correct it. Just a small list:
- I've bought 2 laptops within 2 years (the first one my mother bought and it held for a few years before the lid cracked, the second one met partial death by red wine and the third one is probably trying to find the most inopportune moment to crash any day now)
- I've reformatted them umpteen+ times,
- I've gotten close to getting on first-name basis with the support technicians at at least two different companies (I suspect I was close to being invited to their Christmas dinner too)
- I've bought in total 4 new cellphones in 6 years (one met death by eager puppy + very wet brook, one had a shitty battery in plastic casing and the clasp broke so the battery was loose, one just... went bonkers and started fucking things up + the keyboard became loose at least once a year. I'm just waiting for my new one to fuck things up)
Anyway, the reason I'm writing this right now is because I'm quite fed up. Today my external hdd (which I had lots of my favourite things on) decided not to boot up at all. I checked around, cold and clammy, worried that it was the hdd itself that had crashed. Turns out it seems to be the AC adapter, the green light on it just blinks, regardless of the type of power outlet I connect it to. Now, this might sound like a pretty easy problem to fix... if the HDD hadn't been 2+-3 years old and the AC adapter for it isn't common to find in electronics stores nowadays. The places I've found what seems to be a suitable replacement at lists the price at 250-400 SEK (apx. $34-$54). This might not sound like such a large sum in the bigger picture... unless you've got bills that takes over 75% of your total income and still want to buy food for both yourself and your (kidney sick) animals. Either way, I've got no choice in the long run. I'll have to live on noodles and oatmeal for a while. Can't skimp out on the cats food.
Anyway, as if that wasn't enough... my desk lamp, which has got these ridiculously small, strong lamps (not LED), decided to call it quits too. And of course I've used up all the spare lamps I bought when my economy was bit more decent.
So, in short... Tomorrow I need to go out and spend money I'd rather not spend because technology (I'd rather not bother with but have no choice but to bother with) fucked up again.
This joke about me and technology... it's so painfully true it's not even funny.
- I've bought 2 laptops within 2 years (the first one my mother bought and it held for a few years before the lid cracked, the second one met partial death by red wine and the third one is probably trying to find the most inopportune moment to crash any day now)
- I've reformatted them umpteen+ times,
- I've gotten close to getting on first-name basis with the support technicians at at least two different companies (I suspect I was close to being invited to their Christmas dinner too)
- I've bought in total 4 new cellphones in 6 years (one met death by eager puppy + very wet brook, one had a shitty battery in plastic casing and the clasp broke so the battery was loose, one just... went bonkers and started fucking things up + the keyboard became loose at least once a year. I'm just waiting for my new one to fuck things up)
Anyway, the reason I'm writing this right now is because I'm quite fed up. Today my external hdd (which I had lots of my favourite things on) decided not to boot up at all. I checked around, cold and clammy, worried that it was the hdd itself that had crashed. Turns out it seems to be the AC adapter, the green light on it just blinks, regardless of the type of power outlet I connect it to. Now, this might sound like a pretty easy problem to fix... if the HDD hadn't been 2+-3 years old and the AC adapter for it isn't common to find in electronics stores nowadays. The places I've found what seems to be a suitable replacement at lists the price at 250-400 SEK (apx. $34-$54). This might not sound like such a large sum in the bigger picture... unless you've got bills that takes over 75% of your total income and still want to buy food for both yourself and your (kidney sick) animals. Either way, I've got no choice in the long run. I'll have to live on noodles and oatmeal for a while. Can't skimp out on the cats food.
Anyway, as if that wasn't enough... my desk lamp, which has got these ridiculously small, strong lamps (not LED), decided to call it quits too. And of course I've used up all the spare lamps I bought when my economy was bit more decent.
So, in short... Tomorrow I need to go out and spend money I'd rather not spend because technology (I'd rather not bother with but have no choice but to bother with) fucked up again.
This joke about me and technology... it's so painfully true it's not even funny.
torsdag 26 augusti 2010
the End of the world/ Val 2010
It's depressing to listen to the news on the radio. Catastrophes, both natural and man-made, follow each other in what feels like a more and more rapid succession. If it's not tsunamis, earth quakes or floods, it's wildfires, major oil leaks or hurricanes. All of this makes me think. Is it that the amount of natural catastrophes (man-made ones were a fact ever since the beginning of man) in rapid succession are increasing? Or is it that we're just more aware of them nowadays?
To me it feels like our earth has finally had it with the abuse heaped upon it by the humans. Kind of like: "You drill me full of holes, you rob me of my oil. You cut down my forests, pollute my waters and air. You commit genocide on both yourselves and every other living organism in this world. And then you're chocked that I protest? Payback's a bitch, eh?".
The problem is that these natural disasters very seldom hit the ones most deserving of it. It seldom hits the rich company head quarters or the leading industrialized countries. The ones who, with their selfish and capitalising view of the world as their playground are the main reasons for why things are what they are today. No, instead it hits those that are already suffering from pretty much the same things as the earth itself. It hits Haiti, it hits Pakistan, it hits Chile, it hits the poor parts of China and so on. Where is this world headed when even earth itself is kicking on those that are struggling to stand up again? While the ones most deserving to be beaten down are still sitting on their high horses counting their money and thinking out how to pile up more money, more expensive houses, cars, private jets?
As Barry Mcguire sang in 1965:
Jag kan inte låta bli att undra över om det är så att folk idag har en så dystopisk känsla av undergång att de helt enkelt inte orkar bry sig.
Världen håller på att gå åt helvete ändå, så varför bry sig om vad som händer i framtiden? Varför göra ett aktivt val som gynnar inte bara en själv utan även eventuella nästkommande generationer? Varför orka läsa på? Varför orka engagera sig på något sätt?
Så länge jag har pengar i min börs och kan köpa den senaste tekniken (som ändå kommer gå sönder just efter att garantin gått ut) så är allt väl i min värld. Vad bryr jag mig om att sjukvården blir dyrare? Att fler och fler går arbetslösa och knappt har råd att äta eller betala sin hyra? Folket, vi som ska vara ansvariga för vårt samhälle, överlämnar alla beslut åt politikerna, sväljer glatt de vackra vallöftena som alla vet kommer att brytas så fort valet är över.
Jag har länge känt att det skulle behövas ett totalt generationsskifte i politiker-Sverige. De som i år ställer upp i valet, de som lovar runt och alltid håller tunt, är så världsfrånvända och ointresserade av något annat än sin egen ekonomi och bekvämlighet att jag har svårt att se hur de någonsin skulle kunna göra något för det folk som röstar på dem. De har ingen koll på vad som sker i samhället och representerar gamla, utdaterade värderingar i putsade och ytligt hoplappade former.
Folket som röstar på dem är så avtrubbade, så obrydda och så bekväma att de bara rycker på axlarna och sväljer det som syns på ytan. Förförda av fantasin om att kunna bli som det USA man ser på TV, i filmerna, orkar de inte reflektera över skillnaderna mellan lilla Sverige och USA. De vänder bort blicken för alla de brister som finns där, klart belysta av verklighetens osmickrande ljus, och stänger in sig i sin egen lilla bubbla där allt som räknas är en själv och huruvida man kommer att ha en extra hundralapp i börsen vid löning.
Den hundralappen, förresten... Den hade kunnat gå till sjukvård, bättre skola, bättre vård av de äldre... Men varför ska de ha mina pengar?
Varför ska jag få mindre pengar bara för att någon annan ska få ett åtminstone halvvägs värdigt liv, slippa frysa ihjäl i en kartong på nån bakgata eller förblöda i väntrummet till akuten bara för att det inte finns pengar för tillräckligt med personal?
Varför ska jag bry mig om Svea, 95, som spenderar dagarna i en säng på pensionärshemmet med liggsår och blöja för att personalen helt enkelt inte hinner med att hjälpa henne till toaletten eller ta med henne ut i luften för ens en halvtimme? Svea som knappt minns hur det kändes att få sitta i en stol i trädgården en vacker sommardag eller äta vällagad mat tills hon är mätt?
Jag kan verkligen inte förstå hur folk kan vara så själviska, leva kvar i gamla föreställningar och fortfarande tro att politikerna tänker på folkets bästa. Vi kan inte längre sitta i våra soffor, blippa på fjärrkontrollen och tro att våra politiker är där för att fatta våra beslut.
Det är på tiden att vi, det svenska folket, vi som ska rösta nu i september, börjar ställa krav på våra politiker och på oss själva. Så att vi kanske, förhoppningsvis inte själva en dag behöver glömma känslan av hur det kändes den där dagen när vi satt barfota i gräset med solen som sken varmt ovanför våra huvuden.
To me it feels like our earth has finally had it with the abuse heaped upon it by the humans. Kind of like: "You drill me full of holes, you rob me of my oil. You cut down my forests, pollute my waters and air. You commit genocide on both yourselves and every other living organism in this world. And then you're chocked that I protest? Payback's a bitch, eh?".
The problem is that these natural disasters very seldom hit the ones most deserving of it. It seldom hits the rich company head quarters or the leading industrialized countries. The ones who, with their selfish and capitalising view of the world as their playground are the main reasons for why things are what they are today. No, instead it hits those that are already suffering from pretty much the same things as the earth itself. It hits Haiti, it hits Pakistan, it hits Chile, it hits the poor parts of China and so on. Where is this world headed when even earth itself is kicking on those that are struggling to stand up again? While the ones most deserving to be beaten down are still sitting on their high horses counting their money and thinking out how to pile up more money, more expensive houses, cars, private jets?
As Barry Mcguire sang in 1965:
"Don't you understand what I'm tryin' to sayVal 2010
Can't you feel the fears I'm feelin' today?
If the button is pushed, there's no runnin' away
There'll be no one to save, with the world in a grave
[Take a look around ya boy, it's bound to scare ya boy]
But you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend
Ah, you don't believe
We're on the eve
of destruction."
- (Eve of Destruction, written by P.F Sloan in 1965)
It feels like we're getting there, each day another step towards
destruction.
Svenska:
Jag kan inte låta bli att undra över om det är så att folk idag har en så dystopisk känsla av undergång att de helt enkelt inte orkar bry sig.
Världen håller på att gå åt helvete ändå, så varför bry sig om vad som händer i framtiden? Varför göra ett aktivt val som gynnar inte bara en själv utan även eventuella nästkommande generationer? Varför orka läsa på? Varför orka engagera sig på något sätt?
Så länge jag har pengar i min börs och kan köpa den senaste tekniken (som ändå kommer gå sönder just efter att garantin gått ut) så är allt väl i min värld. Vad bryr jag mig om att sjukvården blir dyrare? Att fler och fler går arbetslösa och knappt har råd att äta eller betala sin hyra? Folket, vi som ska vara ansvariga för vårt samhälle, överlämnar alla beslut åt politikerna, sväljer glatt de vackra vallöftena som alla vet kommer att brytas så fort valet är över.
Jag har länge känt att det skulle behövas ett totalt generationsskifte i politiker-Sverige. De som i år ställer upp i valet, de som lovar runt och alltid håller tunt, är så världsfrånvända och ointresserade av något annat än sin egen ekonomi och bekvämlighet att jag har svårt att se hur de någonsin skulle kunna göra något för det folk som röstar på dem. De har ingen koll på vad som sker i samhället och representerar gamla, utdaterade värderingar i putsade och ytligt hoplappade former.
Folket som röstar på dem är så avtrubbade, så obrydda och så bekväma att de bara rycker på axlarna och sväljer det som syns på ytan. Förförda av fantasin om att kunna bli som det USA man ser på TV, i filmerna, orkar de inte reflektera över skillnaderna mellan lilla Sverige och USA. De vänder bort blicken för alla de brister som finns där, klart belysta av verklighetens osmickrande ljus, och stänger in sig i sin egen lilla bubbla där allt som räknas är en själv och huruvida man kommer att ha en extra hundralapp i börsen vid löning.
Den hundralappen, förresten... Den hade kunnat gå till sjukvård, bättre skola, bättre vård av de äldre... Men varför ska de ha mina pengar?
Varför ska jag få mindre pengar bara för att någon annan ska få ett åtminstone halvvägs värdigt liv, slippa frysa ihjäl i en kartong på nån bakgata eller förblöda i väntrummet till akuten bara för att det inte finns pengar för tillräckligt med personal?
Varför ska jag bry mig om Svea, 95, som spenderar dagarna i en säng på pensionärshemmet med liggsår och blöja för att personalen helt enkelt inte hinner med att hjälpa henne till toaletten eller ta med henne ut i luften för ens en halvtimme? Svea som knappt minns hur det kändes att få sitta i en stol i trädgården en vacker sommardag eller äta vällagad mat tills hon är mätt?
Jag kan verkligen inte förstå hur folk kan vara så själviska, leva kvar i gamla föreställningar och fortfarande tro att politikerna tänker på folkets bästa. Vi kan inte längre sitta i våra soffor, blippa på fjärrkontrollen och tro att våra politiker är där för att fatta våra beslut.
Det är på tiden att vi, det svenska folket, vi som ska rösta nu i september, börjar ställa krav på våra politiker och på oss själva. Så att vi kanske, förhoppningsvis inte själva en dag behöver glömma känslan av hur det kändes den där dagen när vi satt barfota i gräset med solen som sken varmt ovanför våra huvuden.
lördag 21 augusti 2010
Happy days are here?
I had started to believe I would never get to say this but... my thesis is finally COMPLETED! Now all that's left is to get the critique for it, make any necessary adjustments and then... burn it and move on.
I took myself by the scruff and pulled a 2-day-1-night intensive session on writing the thesis. All in all I believe I slept about 3 hours in 2 full days. And as soon as the thesis was mailed out to those that were supposed to have it I crashed and then I slept like a log, blissfully unaware of the world around. Of course I just had to wake up in the middle of the night and be reminded I had barely eaten anything in two days either. But hey, them's the breaks, eh?
Of course, I have a few smaller assignments I've yet to turn in. But they're not related to the thesis and they should be fairly quickly done with as soon as I recover from post-thesis stress (which is an affliction closely related to posttraumatic stress. Only difference is the former usually only affects students of various degree and, much like the flu, strike during set seasons of the year.
Now I'm looking forward to my graphics classes this fall and then I'm hoping against hope (and dreading at the same time) that I'll get a job at the news desk I worked at this summer. We'll see... Wish me luck!
Speaking about stress, by the way. We've got election coming up in a few weeks. I don't think I've ever felt this nauseatingly nervous and worried as this time around. The previous election blind-sided, mind-raped and left me in an emotionally torn, quivering bundle of despair and terror, able to say nothing but:
"Why, dear lord, have you forsaken us?! How could they be so stupid as to vote in a way that made those guys win?!"
I took myself by the scruff and pulled a 2-day-1-night intensive session on writing the thesis. All in all I believe I slept about 3 hours in 2 full days. And as soon as the thesis was mailed out to those that were supposed to have it I crashed and then I slept like a log, blissfully unaware of the world around. Of course I just had to wake up in the middle of the night and be reminded I had barely eaten anything in two days either. But hey, them's the breaks, eh?
Of course, I have a few smaller assignments I've yet to turn in. But they're not related to the thesis and they should be fairly quickly done with as soon as I recover from post-thesis stress (which is an affliction closely related to posttraumatic stress. Only difference is the former usually only affects students of various degree and, much like the flu, strike during set seasons of the year.
Now I'm looking forward to my graphics classes this fall and then I'm hoping against hope (and dreading at the same time) that I'll get a job at the news desk I worked at this summer. We'll see... Wish me luck!
Speaking about stress, by the way. We've got election coming up in a few weeks. I don't think I've ever felt this nauseatingly nervous and worried as this time around. The previous election blind-sided, mind-raped and left me in an emotionally torn, quivering bundle of despair and terror, able to say nothing but:
"Why, dear lord, have you forsaken us?! How could they be so stupid as to vote in a way that made those guys win?!"
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