Have you read the local papers recently around Cardiff? If so was there actually anything significantly interesting in what now appears to be a publication for adverts? Recently I have found that certain local newspapers have descended from interesting and relevant local stories, to barely newsworthy tales. On top of that the number of adverts severely outweighs the number of articles. I can understand the purpose of the adverts, as a means of funding the papers but when you are left with 2 mid-sized stories squeezed in between numerous car show rooms and people who can fix your T.V. aerial you have to wonder if you can call it a newspaper anymore.
The few stories that are scattered throughout the pages aren't particularly interesting either. Yes there is the odd political article or serious crime which piques interest, but when one of the largest stories is firemen finding a bunny or explaining that shop has closed down with no additional information you can't help but feel they are struggling to provide the service they set out to do.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Internet infestation?
When I think back to my younger days, days where I spent most of my time being under 4ft, I marvel at how far computers have come. In those simpler days we were faced with nothing more complicated than the BBC Micro, Commodore 64, Amstrad and Acorn which would all do the same basic tasks of word processing, basic graphics and very primitive games. These days we have machines that are capable of editing high quality photos, editing audio and communicating with people on the other side of the globe, that, I think, it one hell of a leap forward in a couple of decades.
You do have to wonder though, wether or not this dependancy upon computers and the internet is a good thing and if we are sacrificing aspects of life long held dear to make room for this digital age.
Emma Thompson was reported today at being appalled at how people no longer seem to use proper language, replacing it with slang and basic vocabulary and many would agree. You could argue that the internet is to blame in part with shortened writing, as you would find in text messages, appearing frequently, as though to save space or in some cases it would appear, to make what they are saying so indecipherable that only the person receiving can understand it. Yes languages change over time, merge with others and bend to the progress of society but when children can't even spell session, because or what you have to consider whether or not language is regressing.
The internet has proven itself as an invaluable resource of information, discussion and progression in a wide number of fields, but should be discarding books to make room for the online word? You can pretty much find results for anything you care to think of when searching on Google, but when it comes to knowledge, books still hold sway. When a text is produced the first port of call is paper; people will then go and buy the book or borrow it from their nearest library, this process ensures that everyone can have access to the book and its physical nature means it does not depend upon a variety of other elements to read it. Online books needs to be regulated in regards to who has the rights to access them, who has the rights to put the book up and all that other legal malarkey. Then we come to the technical issues. First of all you need to own a computer which we all know can break, then you need the phone line for the internet then internet access itself. If any one of those elements is disrupted then access to texts is removed; much more complicated than going out to a shop or library and picking up the physical thing which doesn't even need batteries.
You do have to wonder though, wether or not this dependancy upon computers and the internet is a good thing and if we are sacrificing aspects of life long held dear to make room for this digital age.
Emma Thompson was reported today at being appalled at how people no longer seem to use proper language, replacing it with slang and basic vocabulary and many would agree. You could argue that the internet is to blame in part with shortened writing, as you would find in text messages, appearing frequently, as though to save space or in some cases it would appear, to make what they are saying so indecipherable that only the person receiving can understand it. Yes languages change over time, merge with others and bend to the progress of society but when children can't even spell session, because or what you have to consider whether or not language is regressing.
The internet has proven itself as an invaluable resource of information, discussion and progression in a wide number of fields, but should be discarding books to make room for the online word? You can pretty much find results for anything you care to think of when searching on Google, but when it comes to knowledge, books still hold sway. When a text is produced the first port of call is paper; people will then go and buy the book or borrow it from their nearest library, this process ensures that everyone can have access to the book and its physical nature means it does not depend upon a variety of other elements to read it. Online books needs to be regulated in regards to who has the rights to access them, who has the rights to put the book up and all that other legal malarkey. Then we come to the technical issues. First of all you need to own a computer which we all know can break, then you need the phone line for the internet then internet access itself. If any one of those elements is disrupted then access to texts is removed; much more complicated than going out to a shop or library and picking up the physical thing which doesn't even need batteries.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Gardening Galore
I have been living in my house for little over a year now and to be honest, the garden looked more like an afro than a place to admire and relax. At the time I could only find opportunity to mow the lawn before the infamous winter of 2009 set in and everything turned to ice. So, this summer, during the brief spells of warmer-than-freezing weather, I set about giving my tiny plot of land a much needed face lift.
You may think I simply did this because it had to be done to prevent weeds and grass reigning supreme and preventing me from reaching the garden shed but to be honest, I did it because I enjoy it and I have a strange sense of prize over my decorative piece of land because, as I said in opening, it is something that I admire and use to relax in. So after a £50 spending spree at my nearest gardening centre, the makeover began and things are starting to look infinitely better.
Most of us can say we have fond memories of sitting in a garden during a cool summers evening with friends or family, talking, eating or just being. Would such an experience have been as pleasant if you had to trample up and down the lawn beforehand to flatten a patch of earth upon which you could place a chair, or if you couldn't put your feet down because some thorny bugger had already laid claim to that space? I doubt it.
A well kept garden is a delight, a pleasure to behold and a sneaky source of exercise in its maintenance. Even on the gloomiest of days, when everything is dark and down, I just direct my eyes through a window and feel all that much better for seeing the colourful flowers, birds pecking away at the feeder and nicely trimmer lawn. To prove to myself that this effect was genuine I spent a week looking out from my study window, at the top of the house, over into next door's garden. In the year that I have been here, nothing has been done to that garden other than someone push some weeds aside to open the shed to remove a hammer. Unwanted vegetation dominates every visible inch, an unloved rose bush competes for space with a dying tree and garden furniture has become engulfed in 4ft grass. Every day of looking over this spectacle, I felt as grey as the weather and frustrated for not being able to do anything about that mess.
Perhaps as a response to this I doubled my efforts in my garden, lashing out at anything that may have spilled over from next door to induce some sense of control and perhaps to make the neighbours jealous of the beautiful arrangements I possess at the rear of my house. If anything, I have learnt that gardening inspires the judgmental side of me.
You may think I simply did this because it had to be done to prevent weeds and grass reigning supreme and preventing me from reaching the garden shed but to be honest, I did it because I enjoy it and I have a strange sense of prize over my decorative piece of land because, as I said in opening, it is something that I admire and use to relax in. So after a £50 spending spree at my nearest gardening centre, the makeover began and things are starting to look infinitely better.
Most of us can say we have fond memories of sitting in a garden during a cool summers evening with friends or family, talking, eating or just being. Would such an experience have been as pleasant if you had to trample up and down the lawn beforehand to flatten a patch of earth upon which you could place a chair, or if you couldn't put your feet down because some thorny bugger had already laid claim to that space? I doubt it.
A well kept garden is a delight, a pleasure to behold and a sneaky source of exercise in its maintenance. Even on the gloomiest of days, when everything is dark and down, I just direct my eyes through a window and feel all that much better for seeing the colourful flowers, birds pecking away at the feeder and nicely trimmer lawn. To prove to myself that this effect was genuine I spent a week looking out from my study window, at the top of the house, over into next door's garden. In the year that I have been here, nothing has been done to that garden other than someone push some weeds aside to open the shed to remove a hammer. Unwanted vegetation dominates every visible inch, an unloved rose bush competes for space with a dying tree and garden furniture has become engulfed in 4ft grass. Every day of looking over this spectacle, I felt as grey as the weather and frustrated for not being able to do anything about that mess.
Perhaps as a response to this I doubled my efforts in my garden, lashing out at anything that may have spilled over from next door to induce some sense of control and perhaps to make the neighbours jealous of the beautiful arrangements I possess at the rear of my house. If anything, I have learnt that gardening inspires the judgmental side of me.
Monday, September 6, 2010
The Stig is Dead, Long Live The Stig.
A secret perhaps more coveted than the meaning of life has come under threat these last few weeks and the potential revelation of this hidden truth threatens to shake the lives of millions: the identity of The Stig.
Even if you are not a regular viewer of Top Gear, most people will be aware of The Stig; that mysterious white clad figure, standing supreme over the Top Gear test track, faceless and silent. His identity has been one of the best kept secrets in television and it would be remiss to say that no one has ever pondered over who hides behind that white helmet.
Though wonder we have, it has to be said that half the fun of The Stig was not knowing who he was. It is doubtful that he would have possessed the same entertainment value if he was simply a man. Under that visor, he is whoever we want him to be, or whoever the Top Gear team decide to make him, but one thing is certain, that uniform made him more than a man.
With his identity under threat and potentially now out in the open, it is almost certain that the white Stig must die. For those who do not follow Top Gear, white Stig is the second one to have appeared since the series revival in 2002. The first, who was reveal to be racing driver Perry McCarthy, was killed off for revealing his identity in his autobiography. This black Stig, drove off the end of an aircraft carrier during a challenge seemingly to his death to be replaced by the white Stig, restoring anonymity to the character and starting afresh.
Now, with a strange repetition of the first scenario, The Stig appears to have been identified in another autobiography, though I cannot bring myself to use names lest the reality of the situation hit home. With this revelation, it may be some time before we discover whether or not a replacement will have to be brought in but it seems certain the world's most popular motoring programming is set for a shake up.
Even if you are not a regular viewer of Top Gear, most people will be aware of The Stig; that mysterious white clad figure, standing supreme over the Top Gear test track, faceless and silent. His identity has been one of the best kept secrets in television and it would be remiss to say that no one has ever pondered over who hides behind that white helmet.
Though wonder we have, it has to be said that half the fun of The Stig was not knowing who he was. It is doubtful that he would have possessed the same entertainment value if he was simply a man. Under that visor, he is whoever we want him to be, or whoever the Top Gear team decide to make him, but one thing is certain, that uniform made him more than a man.
With his identity under threat and potentially now out in the open, it is almost certain that the white Stig must die. For those who do not follow Top Gear, white Stig is the second one to have appeared since the series revival in 2002. The first, who was reveal to be racing driver Perry McCarthy, was killed off for revealing his identity in his autobiography. This black Stig, drove off the end of an aircraft carrier during a challenge seemingly to his death to be replaced by the white Stig, restoring anonymity to the character and starting afresh.
Now, with a strange repetition of the first scenario, The Stig appears to have been identified in another autobiography, though I cannot bring myself to use names lest the reality of the situation hit home. With this revelation, it may be some time before we discover whether or not a replacement will have to be brought in but it seems certain the world's most popular motoring programming is set for a shake up.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Woes of Wales
I like to think that I am a little ahead of others who are in a similar situation as myself. I write for several publications, I am capable of working in a variety of media fields and am multi-skilled and possess numerous interests which I actively engage whilst remaining dedicated to my writing; but there are a couple of flaws which seem to keep people such as myself in a perpetual state of searching and disappointment in regards to employment.
The first is the lack of positions. A quick search through the sites which list media positions shows that the only opportunities available are either strange and irrelevant, or are positions high up in the organization so you have no hope of jumping straight into it. There is nothing in Wales. Even branching outside of media you find there is nothing. I have been turned down for several positions in shops etc simply for being over qualified and for not being willing to sacrifice my extra activities in essence, they want me to drop everything including uni to come perform menial tasks for them.
Secondly, a lot of companies only seem willing to take on people who have had many years experience in the field, even if the positions advertised is entry level or states that training will be provided. I know there are graduate schemes and opportunities but the number of graduates applying for these overwhelms the places they have offered, meaning the larger percentage of young people applying still end up with nothing.
On top of this there are the endless issues I have with the new government, who seem to plan to cut Britain's debt and better the economy by making people unemployed, abolishing organizations and taking money away from the ones that are left. It may make perfect sense to them, but taking jobs away from people and decreasing the number of opportunities would logically make people worse off and it is these people who put money back into the economy.
It may just be that I am frustrated and impatient today, but these are issues that have been welling up in the back of my mind for some time and I know plenty of friends and friends of friends who find themselves in the same predicament, several of whom are immensely more qualified than I could ever boast to be.
The first is the lack of positions. A quick search through the sites which list media positions shows that the only opportunities available are either strange and irrelevant, or are positions high up in the organization so you have no hope of jumping straight into it. There is nothing in Wales. Even branching outside of media you find there is nothing. I have been turned down for several positions in shops etc simply for being over qualified and for not being willing to sacrifice my extra activities in essence, they want me to drop everything including uni to come perform menial tasks for them.
Secondly, a lot of companies only seem willing to take on people who have had many years experience in the field, even if the positions advertised is entry level or states that training will be provided. I know there are graduate schemes and opportunities but the number of graduates applying for these overwhelms the places they have offered, meaning the larger percentage of young people applying still end up with nothing.
On top of this there are the endless issues I have with the new government, who seem to plan to cut Britain's debt and better the economy by making people unemployed, abolishing organizations and taking money away from the ones that are left. It may make perfect sense to them, but taking jobs away from people and decreasing the number of opportunities would logically make people worse off and it is these people who put money back into the economy.
It may just be that I am frustrated and impatient today, but these are issues that have been welling up in the back of my mind for some time and I know plenty of friends and friends of friends who find themselves in the same predicament, several of whom are immensely more qualified than I could ever boast to be.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Personal Poop
A more personal blog I think today considering most of my recent entries have been of a journalistic/ranting affair.
Not much has happened recently. I have sent out over 100 C.V.s to a variety of media and journalistic companies in the hopes of finding some form of employment with them with part-time or as a replacement to my university course which more and more people seem to be unhappy with. The writing continues, with many a band being mocked or praised by my hand in order to provide some scintillating material for the multitude of people I write for.
Recently my sanity has been maintained through a series of events which have distracted me from my summer prison, I say summer ironically, this is Britain, the sun is illegal. Apart from my birthday occurring at a point I shall not disclose, I have HMS Pinafore to look forward to tomorrow as well as the Proms which will last 2 months and provide me with much entertainment and recording/editing opportunities. Other than that is sit in wait, praying for a small moment in which the rain will cease and I can lunge at my garden with the mower, strimmer and rake to subdue it's wild nature!
Not much has happened recently. I have sent out over 100 C.V.s to a variety of media and journalistic companies in the hopes of finding some form of employment with them with part-time or as a replacement to my university course which more and more people seem to be unhappy with. The writing continues, with many a band being mocked or praised by my hand in order to provide some scintillating material for the multitude of people I write for.
Recently my sanity has been maintained through a series of events which have distracted me from my summer prison, I say summer ironically, this is Britain, the sun is illegal. Apart from my birthday occurring at a point I shall not disclose, I have HMS Pinafore to look forward to tomorrow as well as the Proms which will last 2 months and provide me with much entertainment and recording/editing opportunities. Other than that is sit in wait, praying for a small moment in which the rain will cease and I can lunge at my garden with the mower, strimmer and rake to subdue it's wild nature!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
I enjoyed that, I won't watch it again.
I was once informed by a script writer that when people love a film, they will watch it again and again. I replied to the contrary, stating that if I love a film I will watch it as little as possible, to which he seemed puzzled and probably considered spraying me with acid for being the exception to the rule.
Anything I enjoy in general I will avoid as much as possible, quite simply to prevent overexposure. If there is a particular chocolate you love then eating it day in day out will surely ruin the occasion and you would become sick of the stuff. The same applied to me with films. To watch a film I love is a special event, something to set time aside for and to cherish. I have not watched The Hustler in about three years simply because I enjoy it so much, and by the time I get around to watching it again enough of the details should have faded from my mind to ensure that it will still be as exciting, thrilling and dark as the first time I laid eyes upon it.
Though logically if I came across a film that was so good it induced orgasm, I would probably never watch it again.
Anything I enjoy in general I will avoid as much as possible, quite simply to prevent overexposure. If there is a particular chocolate you love then eating it day in day out will surely ruin the occasion and you would become sick of the stuff. The same applied to me with films. To watch a film I love is a special event, something to set time aside for and to cherish. I have not watched The Hustler in about three years simply because I enjoy it so much, and by the time I get around to watching it again enough of the details should have faded from my mind to ensure that it will still be as exciting, thrilling and dark as the first time I laid eyes upon it.
Though logically if I came across a film that was so good it induced orgasm, I would probably never watch it again.
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