Proud to be British: Olympics 2012

A touching tribute to Sir Tim Berners-Lee

Never have I been more proud to be British. The opening ceremony was a show stopper and a triumph for Britain in a year which has been so historically important for our country.

It started off a bit wobbly, with everyone wondering how the Amish related to British culture. Evidently, British fashion has changed dramatically since way back. And with no thorough narration to the story Danny Boyle was telling, I really did feel for the foreign visitors. I'll confess I was a tad lost myself on the historic story that was unfolding before my very eyes at the start. The puzzled faces in the audience would make an excellent photo opportunity however, I'm sure.

The beginning aside, the celebration of our culture and all things British that proceeded truly did serve to make me a proud citizen. We embraced every part of our country; the history, the culture, the literature, artists and so on. The focus on the NHS and Great Ormond Street was such a tribute to the members of the public sector in Britain, and I think it really harnessed their continuous hard work, which proved to be a very moving, and very public message of our appreciation. 

It would have to be the set design that took my breath away the most. It would be hard to dismiss or dislike just how intricate and visually stunning it was. No expense was spared, and you could see that. The fluidity of changing eras, from the countryside adorned with flowers to industrial Britain was seamless and thankfully worked without a glitch. 

Of course, there's no denying that our opening ceremony in contrast to Beijing's was entirely different. But in comparison to a production of wealth which Beijing put on, Britain created a wholly egocentric ceremony which worked so well. Instead of bowing to the pressure of internationalism, Boyle put on a production of what is quintessentially British; from the artificial rain clouds to the green, grassy hills. Rowan Atkinson made a hilarious debut, JK Rowling featured, Dizzee Rascall, a homegrown Grime artist sang and even the Queen made her acting debut with James Bond (aka Daniel Craig). 

The lighting of the cauldron, followed by an abundance of fireworks was spectacularly breathtaking and a perfect finale to such a historically exciting evening. Overall, it was a quirky take on British life, but a historical triumph too. Well done Danny Boyle. 

Let the games begin!

Exisentialism and Donnie Darko

Let me start this post by highlighting that I have been wanting to write about this subject for ages, but it's a case of where on earth do I start. You'll see.

One of my philosophy modules last year was one called Existentialism. While deeply fascinated by this module, the concepts it discusses also disturb me. It would be wrong of me to say that I can define this theory in a paragraph, but for the purpose of discussion I will give you a basic overview. So a way of looking at it would be that we humans bury our heads in sand in life in the way of sticking to routine - 9 to 5 jobs, routine of a work week to weekend and so on. We bury our heads for two reasons: 1) because humans fear and recoil from freedom and 2) because we don't want to face up to the fact that we are mortal beings, whom have limited existence. If we truly accepted the fact that we will cease to exist one day, we would live what philosophers' call an "authentic" existence. In sticking to routine and becoming social conformists, we not only attempt to give up our freedom and thus responsibility, but we attempt to attach meaning to things in life and thus keep our knowledge of our awareness of our own finitude at bay.

You'll probably see now after that very short overview - which has a lot of points and views missed out from it, why I was fascinated but too feared the subject matter. It opens up a can of worms because it really makes you consider your whole existence. This is the real is-there-a-point-to-it-all stuff.

In studying the subject I became aware that one of my favourite films is to be considered an existential film, for it discusses some of the topics that existentialism purports. That film is American Beauty. American Beauty is one of those films that I've always been drawn to, but it's hard to say what it is about it that I loved so much. And then I realised that it was this philosophical tie-in. So I set about googling existential films and bought a few to watch to help me understand existentialism more. And that's when I came across Donnie Darko.

If you've ever watched that film, then your mind will be just as blown as mine. If you haven't, you've got to watch it - seriously. I have watched this film too many times, and I'm still just as lost as the first time round. There are the numerous theories of the whole story itself; the contrast between a primary universe (PU) and a tangent universe (TU). We humans live in a primary universe, it's what we experience everyday. Time, for us is a stable element but, in this film it has been corrupted by a fourth dimension which creates a TU. Tangent universes are to be seen as "alternate universes" and they are highly unstable and usually last a few weeks before they collapse and destroy both itself and the PU. This is what happens in Donnie Darko, and the following 28 days in the film are set in this TU/alternate reality.  

Enough of the brief overview though, because I find the smaller philosophical discussion in the film so much more interesting. It's the juxtaposition of characters that are trying to find an authentic meaning to life in comparison to the bury-their-heads in dull routine types. You have the gym teacher at the PTA meeting arguing that a book (which is "meant to be ironic") should be overruled because of the themes it discusses, which seems ironic in itself in contrast to the immanent destruction of the world which is fast approaching their blinded lives. It almost suggests that we are so wrapped up in fear that we deny reality and therefore live inauthentically. 

Then you have Jim Cunningham, the flashy over the top Hollywood creation of a man that can make anyone overcome their fears. The characters are drawn to his promises of a fearless world, when in fact he is a corrupt and sick child pornography hoarder. Appearances can be deceiving, and appealing. The irony here is that a TV personality can't make you overcome fear, because it's something you as an individual need to face up to yourself. Jim Cunningham's character represents the suppressing of fear; which is what we humans tend to do but really we need to accept fear, because in accepting it we understand the essence of our existence. Donnie, in contrast to Cunningham, is in search of a deeper meaning to existence which goes beyond popularity, materialism and money. Donnie may well be perceived to be a prisoner by the other characters, trapped in a lonely world of schizophrenia, but he is on a path of accepting his freedom and therefore finding the truth and living authentically. At this point in the film you really see the contrast between ignorant humans preferring to deny reality; they are more interested in seeing sparkle motions dance routine instead of facing up to the truth of their existence for they desire routine, materialism and facades. Those searching for the truth are ridiculed and isolated by a society that is brainwashed through fear into following orders and committing controlled behaviour.

The ending of the film captures existentialism pretty neatly too. Donnie is lying in bed, laughing at something the audience isn't consciously made aware of. This is at the point when the jet engine comes crashing through the ceiling and kills him. The last 28 days never happened. This point to me suggests that Donnie has accepted fear, accepted his finite existence and no longer fears death. The hand wave between Gretchen and Donnie's mother hints at a concept of those manipulated in the TU (i.e. Gretchen and Donnie's romance) bearing distant connections to people in the PU. Gretchen feels something when she looks at his mother, because in an alternate, tangent universe she shared a connection with that family. This may explain why some people warm to others in life for unexplainable reasons. It's such a fantastic film on so many levels of symbolic and literal meaning. I don't think I ever want to fully understand it because you can read so many different things into it and that's what makes it such an accessible and likeable cult film.

The unattainable image of perfection

Remember that time when I blogged about how the internet is destroying our attention spans? Well, I have to admit that as of late due to a hectic temporary work lifestyle, I've been a sucker for 'soft reading' i.e. reading an everlasting supply of popular culture magazines. Look, Grazia, Marie Claire, you name it I'm most probably reading it.

In my house we have three bathrooms and in each and every bathroom there's a stash of my mother's magazines. They have become the toilet-reading-types as far as I'm concerned. I always laugh at my mother's choice in magazines because I can predict, far too accurately, who will be on the cover each week. For the record it's only ever a choice of a Loose Woman, Holly Willoughby or Phillip Schofield. Richard and Judy used to feature a lot in past times, but I guess they just aren't selling as well anymore. So that's the front cover sorted. The insides are predictably familiar each week too... who's wearing what outfit best, the usual cleaning tips, a shocking story and then... well, a topic which seems to saturate not only every magazine my mother buys, but also every magazine I purchase too. Diets.

I'm the girl who has grown up her whole life surrounded by the media. Ever since I can remember I've been surrounded by perfected images of immaculate beauty and a barbie doll body. Unlike most women, I wouldn't say I'm anti this situation, I guess I am just more aware of what I eat and what I do. Thank you, media, for putting that voice in my head which tells me I really shouldn't have one more bite of that chocolate bar.

It's not even the fact that I dislike how magazines always promote exercise and healthy eating, because those two factors inevitably lead to a healthy lifestyle. It's the pictures of airbrushed celebrities that are placed next to these exercises that irritates me. As far as I am concerned, there's a simple reason why people like Kim Kardashian have the body they do; because they have the time and the money to invest in exercise. If I wasn't leaving the house at 8am for work and returning home at 6pm, and I had the means to eating as well as they do as well as having the use of a personal trainer tailoring an exercise regime specifically for me, then I'd quite frankly be shocked if I didn't boast a tiny, taut body.

I'm not even asking for yet more of those annoying be-body-confident campaigns where they use "real" women; because every woman on this earth is real, regardless of if you're a celebrity or not. If anything it makes me distrust those brands just that bit more, because you know they're only doing this to make you like them. It's just that I don't always want to see the "end result" heavily photoshopped image in the magazines because, if you think in the same way that I do, that just seems that bit too unattainable and daunting for someone just starting to change their dietary and exercise ways.

A true festival foe

It's that time of the year when hundreds of thousands of British people start counting down for festival season. Indeed the time is nigh, and the muddy fields are within sight.

Festivals are a huge deal to so many people, and for reasons far beyond what festivals used to represent. Festivals were once soley just an appreciation of music, attended by music lovers and for music lovers. But nowadays, mass marketing and dollar signs in the eyes of the producers have turned them into mass events which extend far further than the fields they take place in.

I honestly believe that the vast majority who go to festivals such as Reading or Glastonbury spend an equal amount of time on their festival outfits nowadays as they do scoping out what bands are playing on what stages. Of course this isn't a bad thing - because I've always been brought up to look my best for different occasions, but I think it's just peculiar how a whole fashion trend has emerged with these events. Being the hardy Englishmen and women that we are, we can brave the cold, wet, windy weather wearing bottom-scraping cut-off denim shorts teamed with a staple pair of Hunters. Because that's just what we do.

Well... I say we, but I personally don't actually like or attend festivals. The way I see it, they are an event version of Marmite; you either love them or loathe them. Okay so I wouldn't say I loathe them as such, it's just more that I can't deal with the almost guaranteed rain and thus muddy fields, sleeping in a tent and the inability to stay clean. I'd be more than happy to spend a weekend at a festival like Coachella where you can watch bands play wrapped in the warmth of Californian sun, but the cold and grimey associations of English festivals just don't do it for me.

Hunter wellies are no milestone gift

I've always had mixed emotions about milestone birthday presents. Yay, hurrah for turning eighteen, twenty-one or even fifty. But for me, the presents are an iffy subject. I, nor my sister, have never really been one for "keepsakes". Personally I think it's because I like to keep my space as minimal as possible - even though in actual fact it's already far too messy. And, I'll be honest, I'm far too anal to trust someone picking out an object that I will potentially keep on show perhaps forever more. What if it's really hideous and you feel obliged to keep it out in the open for everyone to see? I guess it's just you'll always have that hanging guilt if you were to ever rid yourself of it. 

I'm not saying I don't like well thought out keepsakes however, because I think they are such nostalgic ways to remember milestone points in your lives. For my sister's 21st back in April, I spent ages trying to think of the perfect little gift alongside many other general ones and I found this gorgeous Vera Wang compact mirror which was stored in a beautiful white leather envelope pouch. She, hopefully, really liked the gift and I think that will be a lovely way for her to remember her day.

With all this in mind, I actually had quite an interesting talk with one customer regarding her gift choice for her daughter's upcoming 21st. I'm more than used to customers walking in and trying to find a gift idea for a family member, friend and so on. So this woman wanted two perfumes for her daughter which were both fairly inexpensive so she could buy her this other beloved present her daughter was dreaming of. That sounds pretty reasonable, right? Maybe think again.

The "dream" gift was a pair of Hunter wellies for Reading festival. For her 21st. Clearly I've watched far too many American movies which idealise birthdays, gifts and the importance of turning 21. So in a year's time, or even fifty years time, when this girl has sprayed herself dry of her perfume and the wellies are caked in mud, or maybe even ruined, how exactly is this she going to remember her 21st? I'm not opposed to Hunter wellingtons being purchased as a gift idea, because I get that they are an expensive everyday purchase to make. It just seems like such a peculiar present idea for a 21st. 

I'm all for buying what the birthday girl/boy wants, but sometimes you've just got to take the reigns. My sister didn't ask for her mirror, just as I didn't ask for a watch for my 18th, but in hindsight I am so glad my parents bought it for me because I will always link it back to my birthday and even to the exact moment when I burst out into tears of happiness. The unexpected gifts you never specifically asked for, but now couldn't live without, are the priceless ones that create memories that will last a lifetime. I'll admit it, finally, at the grand old age of 19 that perhaps mother does always know best - well when it comes to certain things anyway.

New Girl: both me, and the series

Aaaaaaah. The sudden realisation that you've abandoned your blog for the past forever. Okay, so it's been 6 days. But it certainly does feel a whole lot longer. I'm not ignoring you, I promise. Indeed I am in fact using the cliché it's not you, it's me but, it this time it really is me. 

I am happy to announce that through hard work, and a whole lot of emails and calls I have managed to land myself summer work. Yipee. I'm working for Kent County Council, and my role is effectively an administration assistant. It's exciting stuff, and I'm gaining so many new skills and experiences which will all help by the time I graduate and look to start my career. So as of late, with much of my time spent travelling to and from work and indeed being at work, I have found I have little time in the evenings to sit down to write. I'm here now though, and that's all that counts right?

So I climb into bed hoping and praying that something worth while will be on digital TV, which we all know is pretty futile in fulfilling that role 99.9% of the time, and low and behold it appears someone has answered my prayers. The new series of New Girl has started and it already feels like the last series finished only yesterday. It's such easy, cohesive viewing and perfect in the sense that you don't need to watch every episode to know the storyline. So long as you know the character names, you'll pretty much pick up on what's happening regardless of what episode you watch. It's no Lost, put it that way. 

Ever since the first series aired, I sense the vibe the producers were going for is a modern-day, twenty-first century Friends. The whole apartment sharing, the will they won't they Ross and Rachel type of scenario, the character types - think pretty one, goof, unemployed, the loveable one. Pretty much the recipe for a perfect sitcom. Friends enjoyed a lengthy period of popularity, and in light of the mixed reviews New Girl has received over this side of the pond I'm not saying it's quite on par just yet, but it's early days... and hey, I only want to watch something easy going to relax from a hard day's work!

Heat, humidity and (jumble) sales shopping

On my hour long lunch break today, I decided to venture out of the cool and breezy office into the hot, humid heat. I always find hour long lunches slightly awkward, 'cos you're walking around aimlessly for an hour quite literally just killing time. Unless you're one of those I'VE GOT TO GO TO THE POST OFFICE AND THEN THE TOWN HALL AND THEN THE BANK BECAUSE I'M IMPORTANT type of people. I however never have such highly important tasks to attend to.

Thus, I flittered in and out of shops like the hour was running out fast. I consider myself to be a "grazer" shopper; I'll invest time in a select few favourite stores and really scope out the items I choose. But today, the heat just got to me. I was like a kid on a car journey. The worst part? I only had myself to moan to.

It was a mixture of heat combined with an extreme dislike towards sales-dominating-entire-stores that agitated me. I'm all for seeing that beautiful, expensive, exquisite, pay-day destroying, dream dominating item go down in the sale after you have stalked it online for months, but after I've bagged that I'm ready for the new collection.

Let's not be irrational here, sales are a god-send when you can find those timeless classic pieces that will live through season after season but, fashion nowadays has become so disposable. The eclectic neons, the bright floral pants, the pastel jeans... every item I have just listed is so heavily focused on a trend. The key word there being trend. Trends come and go, as quick as you can buy the item. Even in a double-dip recession high street stores still manage to get us to part with cash because, let's face it, people aren't going to forget your favourite bright floral pants you wore everyday last season.

The ugly face of modern architecture

'Le Corbusier' inspired tower block

So today I'm driving home with my mother and we're casually chatting whilst I'm looking out the window at the changing landscape. The car slows to a hault and we approach a set of traffic lights. My eyes are fixed on this one piece of architecture to my left, a school that has recently been knocked down and rebuilt, and before I know it we've both started a conversation about it - this happens often, it must be a family telepathy thing. The general stance of our conversation was discussing how insanely hideous this new school looks from the exterior. It's covered in large rectangular panelling coloured in varying shades of green ranging from a lemony green to bogey green. It's a dulux colour chart of disgustingness, if ever that word existed. 

After airing our disgust towards this piece of 'modern architecture' we soon compared it to other recent new builds, both not far in distance from that piece. We have a set of houses about 5 or so miles from our home which appear to have been slashed diagonally on the roofs, as well as fronting floor to ceiling windows. I'm not impartial to floor to ceiling windows in city apartments where there's views to be seen, but I can assure you there is little to be seen from this housing estate, not to mention I'm certain outsiders would rather not see so much of the inside when passing by the houses.

The genuine facade of the
school we passed.

Ever since I was a child I have had this unexplained interest in architecture, particularly that of churches, and I guess it's never really left me. I love old architecture because the buildings bear unique stories. In my university town of Canterbury, the Cathedral, as well as general architecture in the old town, is breathtakingly stunning. Even from the outside you can see the intricacies of detail in the architecure from the intial striking height of the building (which would have been difficult and, not to mention, unsafe to construct in 1070) to the detailed carvings which feature in the stonework.

To me, what sets apart modern architecture from that of ancient is the time frame it took to construct. Our current era is obsessed with time, or should I say the lack of it. Everything nowadays from modern technology to microwave meals is focused on speeding up the process of delivery. We're too impatient. And this very observation, in my opinion, can have damaging effects on anything from health to architecture. Yes, hands up I admit that I'm one of those microwave wary people - but is it really safe for potatoes to cook in ten minutes in a microwave when it would take an hour conventionally in the oven? Personally I'm not so convinced...

Back to the architecture though. So my line of thought is that our modern speed obsessed world has basically resulted in being able to build X number of buildings and houses in as little time as possible, with as little thought as possible. What has happened to the time when architects took pride in their plans and spent as much time as needed to build a truly stunning piece of timeless architecture? I'm just wondering what people in 100 years time will think of us, and my guess is that they will laugh at the array of colour chart and cement clad buildings that appear to be springing up at an alarming rate. 

I think the enchanting old architecture of cities such as London or Paris are a major factor in their draw to tourists because the ambience and look is aesthetically pleasing. You only have to look at The Houses of Parliament or the Arc de Triomphe to see the notion I'm discussing. Architecture should be timeless and beautiful, and I don't see that quality being reflected in some recent builds. I'm not averse to the future, I embrace it, but it's true to say that I'm concerned at what Britain could end up looking like in 50 years time.