I was angry. I get angry a lot. Things annoy me and get under my skin on a regular basis. It's a particular annoyance when something happens in one of the creative fields I have my eye on. No, I'm not going to go off on one about the misogyny in comics again, although it's something that could currently be talked about endlessly.
No, this rant was centred on something a lot closer to me. I saw something in a magazine that incensed me and almost had me writing a bitter-sounding screed about the nature of networking, money and talent* in the comics industry. I know they don't sound like very interesting topics, but the combination is, and in the most horrible way. It would have been accusatory and finger-pointy and very probably foamy-mouthed as a tirade.
And that was what stopped me. Whether I'm right or wrong in my assessment of what I see as people not worth the time getting success doesn't entirely matter. Every mediocre drop of shit they drop into the creative community is going to make me wince like an abused kid when his father reaches for his belt, but there's a problem when you point it out: you look bitter and jealous. Jealousy can be healthy in small amounts, it can be another of those initially negative things that turns positive, but no one really wants anything to do with bitterness. Ya just don't make friends when your mouth is curled into a sneer because shit hasn't gone your way.
I would, and still do, see my anger as justified and clean, shining an incandescent light on the corruption and hypocrisy I see in my midst.
"Can't you be happy for someone's success?" you would be justified in asking. I can, but not when it's at my expense and at the expense of people more talented than me.
You see? It sounds like a shrivelled old complainer, pointing his worn walking stick at something he doesn't like and peeling back his cracked lips to spit out some bilious comment. I'm not that guy. I want to show the injustices of 'I'll-buy-you-a-drink' job-getting, and I know it goes on, I've heard too many stories from first hand sources to assure me of that, but doing so taints me, too. Pointing it out marks me out as some kind of malcontent, but I suppose I'm not content with the way these transactions go. Unfortunately it's a reality of the world I've thrown my lot in with and I don't have the clout to change it.
My lack of prowess when it comes to networking is legendary. I say, "Hello," and then watch as someone else smooths their way in. Confidence is, and always has been, my biggest downfall. I lack it and I also have a deficiency of the bullshitting gland that might help me acquire work. Bullshitting seems to be a large part of the whole process. As is money, which I also have a huge lack of. With money I could at least travel around and practice my ineptitude. Wow, there's a line that's going to get me a tidal wave of job offers.
If only sarcasm was a marketable skill.
Snarling and bellowing about the situation isn't going to change anything and it only marks me out as some kind of whiner not content with his lot. Maybe I am a whiner. I'm certainly not happy with where I am in my writing career**. Do you think shouting and (metaphorically) kicking furniture over is my way of disguising the snivelling whinger I really am?
I didn't want to rant here and I don't think I did. I did, I think, turn a bit passive-aggressive, which I apologise for. Most of you want to see that about as much as you want to see my wang. I do think it's something I need to air once in while, even if it does depress the living shit out of you. I wasn't talking about my wang, there, but if you feel the need to read it that way, go right ahead.
This blog post is dedicated to Ben Eads and Ted Brandt who are getting along merrily on their actual talent and I say congratulations in their recent successes. It's nice to see people – friends – doing well who aren't anything like the type of dickhead I describe above. Trying to inject positivity in here, I feel it needs it, don't you?
So next week I'll either have something hilariously angry or you'll get complete silence. We'll see how my mood is.
* Or lack thereof, in some cases.
** That is to say pretty much nowhere. I'm just full of cheer today.
Will
Wednesday 30 April 2014
Wednesday 23 April 2014
And Your Pens, Too!
Smell that, son. It's the scent of fuckwit on the air. Yes, I know, we're supposed to be an advanced civilised society, but fuckwits and arseholes still manage to wriggle their way to the top of food chains and under our skin. It's kind of our fault for having a civilised and advanced society that we allow these...um...interesting individuals to burble away and annoy us. Would be nice to just round a few particularly dicky dicks up, through them on an enclosed plain and hunt them down. Population control. Alas the whole 'illegality' and 'immorality' of such a venture bugs some people. For some reason.
I've been vocal about my annoyance at the sexism and misogyny in two of my favourite art forms before. Gaming has seen a high-profile debacle with the Game Jam that went down the toilet because of sexist remarks. You have to applaud the people who put a middle finger up to that shit. It's not the first incident of its kind in gaming and I don't think it will be the last – not for a good long while, sadly. I can't help feeling that all the nasty shit some gamers say while playing online might be the desired end result for some games creators, "I'm miserable, so you're all going to be miserable. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Or something.
I want to talk comics, though.
Recently this bullshit pushed its sweaty way into my consciousness. Do I need to tell people what's wrong with this situation? If I do, then please feel free to go for a walk down the middle of a motorway, you know for your own and everyone else's sake. It will be for the best.
Going by the discussion and the toxic sludge that passes for forums and comments sections, talk I must. It's because it talks of a wider problem in our culture, where treating women like punching bags, both emotionally and physically, still doesn't have the stigma it deserves.
Let's go back to that misty time of April 11th of this year, an idyllic time when everyone got along and no one was throwing around rape threats like it was big and clever.
What?
It's never been like that?
Okay, but this part of the story still starts on that date. A day when a woman decided to critique a recent comic book cover. She pointed out that while the figure work was mostly pretty good, the composition was dodgy as fuck. I mean, to me, most of the things around the figures look like they've been scribbled in without any thought about whether they should be there. That lunch bag in Beast Boy's hand looks especially tacked-on. She points out something that could be potentially racist. That last one's hard to call, it could just have been down to the overall iffiness of the composition.
The less ambiguous issue is with Wonder Girl's anatomy. Namely her gigantic, unreal knockers. Miss Asselin rightly takes issue with the blatant sexualisation of a teenage girl, fictional she may be, but it's still a creepy thought. She points out the ridiculous proportions of the character's hips before turning her attention to everything that's wrong with Wonder Girl's breasts. You can read it in the link.
And that's what people took issue with. How dare she, a mere woman and non-artist, criticise a comic artist for DOING WHAT A VAST SWATH OF COMIC ARTISTS DO! Then came the rape threats. Rape threats.
I'll say that a third time so that those of you who don't quite get it can feel the full horror: rape threats. We know the people involved know what they do is wrong because they concealed their activities in private correspondence.
This kind of thing isn't acceptable. This is shit. It's nasty and unpleasant and, if the all-time number one downloaded song ever is an indicator, disgustingly prevalent. We have a culture in which threatening rape is a way of dealing with women. How is this still a thing? Why are we still letting it happen? Are we afraid of losing our bros when we call them on having grotesque attitudes towards women. Let me tell you, you don't need friends like that, yer mate who's always calling women sluts and whores and thinks they're good for nothing but bed post notches is the human equivalent of radioactive waste. His attitudes are going to reflect on you and give your soul cancer. You wouldn't sit on an atomic pile would you? See?
Even in the public domain, people who are supposed to be professionals in the field resorted to, "you have a vagina, so you are wrong," arguments when it was clear their defence of one of their colleagues wasn't going their way. That's harder to deal with, because they don't seem to see what they are doing is wrong. That's a problem too big for my puny brain to think up even a bullshit solution for.
And the argument it's the way comics are done is such a huge pile of bullshit there are satellites orbiting it. We have the capacity to change that particular status quo. Ridiculously-boobed women (teenagers and adult women) are the juvenile fantasies of a small part of the comics community, yet it's those shit heads who call all the shots. Yes, they're the loudest monkeys in the enclosure, but they are also the most stupid, selfish and least representative. Big companies can take away their power with one simple tactic: ignore them. It's not our fault some essential part of their life is missing. Get on with doing shit that isn't offensive in every wrong way and start to grow. You won't be seen as unsympathetic, you'll be seen as smart. Ignore the fuckers who want comics to stay the same stunted medium forever*.
What I say to everyone: is shout as loud as you can about these internet degenerates. Shine a big torch on every reprehensible proclamation. There should be a website dedicated to this, where women who've been on the receiving end of this crap can post the sickening crap they have to put up with so that the rest of us can laugh and the pathetic specimens who feel it's right and proper to verbally beat women down with grimy threats just so they can feel empowered. Would such a place work? Dunno. It would be nice to experiment and see. Someone. Anybody?**
* Actually moderating forums and comments sections might be a good start too. Too many of these places just let slobbering misogyny and any other foul prejudice run rampant without saying much. Don't feed the trolls is not an adequate way to moderate a forum either.
** And fucking hell more shit!
Will
I've been vocal about my annoyance at the sexism and misogyny in two of my favourite art forms before. Gaming has seen a high-profile debacle with the Game Jam that went down the toilet because of sexist remarks. You have to applaud the people who put a middle finger up to that shit. It's not the first incident of its kind in gaming and I don't think it will be the last – not for a good long while, sadly. I can't help feeling that all the nasty shit some gamers say while playing online might be the desired end result for some games creators, "I'm miserable, so you're all going to be miserable. Ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Or something.
I want to talk comics, though.
Recently this bullshit pushed its sweaty way into my consciousness. Do I need to tell people what's wrong with this situation? If I do, then please feel free to go for a walk down the middle of a motorway, you know for your own and everyone else's sake. It will be for the best.
Going by the discussion and the toxic sludge that passes for forums and comments sections, talk I must. It's because it talks of a wider problem in our culture, where treating women like punching bags, both emotionally and physically, still doesn't have the stigma it deserves.
Let's go back to that misty time of April 11th of this year, an idyllic time when everyone got along and no one was throwing around rape threats like it was big and clever.
What?
It's never been like that?
Okay, but this part of the story still starts on that date. A day when a woman decided to critique a recent comic book cover. She pointed out that while the figure work was mostly pretty good, the composition was dodgy as fuck. I mean, to me, most of the things around the figures look like they've been scribbled in without any thought about whether they should be there. That lunch bag in Beast Boy's hand looks especially tacked-on. She points out something that could be potentially racist. That last one's hard to call, it could just have been down to the overall iffiness of the composition.
The less ambiguous issue is with Wonder Girl's anatomy. Namely her gigantic, unreal knockers. Miss Asselin rightly takes issue with the blatant sexualisation of a teenage girl, fictional she may be, but it's still a creepy thought. She points out the ridiculous proportions of the character's hips before turning her attention to everything that's wrong with Wonder Girl's breasts. You can read it in the link.
And that's what people took issue with. How dare she, a mere woman and non-artist, criticise a comic artist for DOING WHAT A VAST SWATH OF COMIC ARTISTS DO! Then came the rape threats. Rape threats.
I'll say that a third time so that those of you who don't quite get it can feel the full horror: rape threats. We know the people involved know what they do is wrong because they concealed their activities in private correspondence.
This kind of thing isn't acceptable. This is shit. It's nasty and unpleasant and, if the all-time number one downloaded song ever is an indicator, disgustingly prevalent. We have a culture in which threatening rape is a way of dealing with women. How is this still a thing? Why are we still letting it happen? Are we afraid of losing our bros when we call them on having grotesque attitudes towards women. Let me tell you, you don't need friends like that, yer mate who's always calling women sluts and whores and thinks they're good for nothing but bed post notches is the human equivalent of radioactive waste. His attitudes are going to reflect on you and give your soul cancer. You wouldn't sit on an atomic pile would you? See?
Even in the public domain, people who are supposed to be professionals in the field resorted to, "you have a vagina, so you are wrong," arguments when it was clear their defence of one of their colleagues wasn't going their way. That's harder to deal with, because they don't seem to see what they are doing is wrong. That's a problem too big for my puny brain to think up even a bullshit solution for.
And the argument it's the way comics are done is such a huge pile of bullshit there are satellites orbiting it. We have the capacity to change that particular status quo. Ridiculously-boobed women (teenagers and adult women) are the juvenile fantasies of a small part of the comics community, yet it's those shit heads who call all the shots. Yes, they're the loudest monkeys in the enclosure, but they are also the most stupid, selfish and least representative. Big companies can take away their power with one simple tactic: ignore them. It's not our fault some essential part of their life is missing. Get on with doing shit that isn't offensive in every wrong way and start to grow. You won't be seen as unsympathetic, you'll be seen as smart. Ignore the fuckers who want comics to stay the same stunted medium forever*.
What I say to everyone: is shout as loud as you can about these internet degenerates. Shine a big torch on every reprehensible proclamation. There should be a website dedicated to this, where women who've been on the receiving end of this crap can post the sickening crap they have to put up with so that the rest of us can laugh and the pathetic specimens who feel it's right and proper to verbally beat women down with grimy threats just so they can feel empowered. Would such a place work? Dunno. It would be nice to experiment and see. Someone. Anybody?**
* Actually moderating forums and comments sections might be a good start too. Too many of these places just let slobbering misogyny and any other foul prejudice run rampant without saying much. Don't feed the trolls is not an adequate way to moderate a forum either.
** And fucking hell more shit!
Will
Wednesday 16 April 2014
Inarticulate Snarl!
Doing things in good faith is a perfect way of getting it in the gub. It's a life lesson I can't quite grasp, even though it's happened to me so often. I enter into things with an open mind and end up getting kicked in the brain*. I have been approaching some modern horror films with this attitude of late, fool that I am.
I'm still not finished with this little jag; there are a load of horror films from the last few years I haven't seen. In truth there are some older horror films I haven't seen – wouldn't mind giving Don't Look Now and Freaks a go around. By the same token I'm not interested in some newer horror films like The Human Centipede 2 or any of the Hostel films. I am not squeamish, as you'll know if you've read some of my fiction, but the retarded and boring fascination with gore and debasement** just doesn't do anything for me. Add to that, the first Human Centipede was some of the most inept film making I've ever seen and it didn't bode well for the follow-up. Use an idea as the basis for a story, but it shouldn't be the entire fucking thing.
Anyway, I entered into watching a couple of Rob Zombie films a few days ago. Yeah, I suppose walking into Rob Zombie film-making exploits is a big invitation to getting a toe in the frontal lobe, but I decided I should, just to see if the impression left by House of 1,000 Corpses was erroneous. This is the point where I stick a disclaimer in your face: I have liked Rob Zombie's music for a long time, going on twenty years now†, and I was really excited when House of 1,000 Corpses was coming out, abandoning any misgivings about his directorial abilities, because even the promos he directed for his songs are on the shoddy side. So, yeah, fan of Rob Zombie music.
House of 1,000 Corpses turned out to be an incoherent clusterfuck of a mess. It's like it has been written by someone who doesn't know what a story is and has the tedious hyperactive style of bad music promos. Bad film! Swat it with a fucking slipper. It was disappointing and quite saddening, that trashy, wild and incoherent style that worked so well in his music didn't stand up to a change of medium. Should have seen it coming, but I was naive and really wanted to enjoy his film work as much as I liked his music.
I pretended this hadn't happened. I pretended I was coming into The Devil's Rejects without ever having seen House of 1,000 Corpses, aaaaaand it was still shit. I will admit it was better written, there was actually the semblance of a narrative. It was a shit narrative with the desperate need for you to empathise with a bunch of reprehensible psychopaths. It's almost impossible to empathise with characters who have no redeeming features whatsoever. Yet there goes Mister Cummings trying to make us care for characters so horrible and twisted there's nothing tangible to hold onto. They're just a bunch of gurning sick fucks who kill a bunch of faceless people and deserve to die. Actually they probably didn't deserve to have what little cinematic life was given to them.
What's probably most dull about The Devil's Rejects is Rob Zombie's slavish copying of a particular brand of seventies films. He doesn't even try to bring anything new to the business, just making a nasty seventies exploitation film a couple of decades too late. It's witless and artless and a kind of wank material for people who want to see senseless, pointless killing and boobs. It would be fine if that was all he was trying to do, but there are too many things inserted that make it seem like he's trying for something loftier and when he doesn't get anywhere near them it's difficult to decide whether to scud him on the head for being so inept or pat his weirdly-hatted bonce in commiseration for making an attempt.
And while we're on the subject of mindlessly copying the work of other directors, having seen The Lords of Salem, it seems he'd watched a bit of Stanley Kubrick, only instead of taking the lessons of story-telling and character he took away STATIC SHOTS and DRAGGING SCENES. So many static shots for no reason. You're not learning anything, it's not moving the plot along and it's not creating tension. What's the fucking point, man?
I mean, again, better than either The Devil's Rejects or House of 1,000 Corpses, but still a million miles away from being a good film. He shows a wee bit of restraint when it comes to the violence, but his need to have waaaaaay too much nudity is yawn-inducing. Actually, I'll correct that: too much female nudity. I'm a red-blooded heterosexual male, I enjoy looking at the female form, but when it's just women parading around nude, for no real purpose, it gets creepy. It does get to the point where a full-frontal naked guy would be something of a relief; it would make it feel less like some leering pervert's sitting next to you massaging himself. Urk.
I dunno if there's something inherently wrong with modern horror, or if this kind of rot has always been there, but Rob Zombie's films are kind of indicative of something a bit skewed about the genre. The need to parade unpleasant violence and nudity in place of story and character makes me feel a lot of horror film makers miss the point of the genre. Like most genres it's about showing us fundamental truths about humanity, yeah that sounds fucking pretentious, but it doesn't make it any less true, but a lot of directors seem to think it's an excuse to show off boobs and wave a dripping pancreas in our faces while screaming, "Ha ha ha ha! Isn't this fucking awesome!"
Rob Zombie probably isn't beyond redemption as a film maker. There were a few points in The Devil's Rejects, actually some of the best scenes, where he showed a keen sense of comic timing. Perhaps ditching horror and making a foray into comedy might work out better.
* Okay, not everything. Some things. In case you hadn't noticed I'm not the most open-minded person. I'm not the most closed-minded, either. Receptive to some things more than others. Like A REAL HUMAN BEING! Gasp.
** And don't forget that little smattering of misogyny, that shit gets everywhere and leaves a funky smell.
† I even got to see White Zombie the one time they toured in the UK. Throwing that out there for no particular reason.
Will
I'm still not finished with this little jag; there are a load of horror films from the last few years I haven't seen. In truth there are some older horror films I haven't seen – wouldn't mind giving Don't Look Now and Freaks a go around. By the same token I'm not interested in some newer horror films like The Human Centipede 2 or any of the Hostel films. I am not squeamish, as you'll know if you've read some of my fiction, but the retarded and boring fascination with gore and debasement** just doesn't do anything for me. Add to that, the first Human Centipede was some of the most inept film making I've ever seen and it didn't bode well for the follow-up. Use an idea as the basis for a story, but it shouldn't be the entire fucking thing.
Anyway, I entered into watching a couple of Rob Zombie films a few days ago. Yeah, I suppose walking into Rob Zombie film-making exploits is a big invitation to getting a toe in the frontal lobe, but I decided I should, just to see if the impression left by House of 1,000 Corpses was erroneous. This is the point where I stick a disclaimer in your face: I have liked Rob Zombie's music for a long time, going on twenty years now†, and I was really excited when House of 1,000 Corpses was coming out, abandoning any misgivings about his directorial abilities, because even the promos he directed for his songs are on the shoddy side. So, yeah, fan of Rob Zombie music.
House of 1,000 Corpses turned out to be an incoherent clusterfuck of a mess. It's like it has been written by someone who doesn't know what a story is and has the tedious hyperactive style of bad music promos. Bad film! Swat it with a fucking slipper. It was disappointing and quite saddening, that trashy, wild and incoherent style that worked so well in his music didn't stand up to a change of medium. Should have seen it coming, but I was naive and really wanted to enjoy his film work as much as I liked his music.
I pretended this hadn't happened. I pretended I was coming into The Devil's Rejects without ever having seen House of 1,000 Corpses, aaaaaand it was still shit. I will admit it was better written, there was actually the semblance of a narrative. It was a shit narrative with the desperate need for you to empathise with a bunch of reprehensible psychopaths. It's almost impossible to empathise with characters who have no redeeming features whatsoever. Yet there goes Mister Cummings trying to make us care for characters so horrible and twisted there's nothing tangible to hold onto. They're just a bunch of gurning sick fucks who kill a bunch of faceless people and deserve to die. Actually they probably didn't deserve to have what little cinematic life was given to them.
What's probably most dull about The Devil's Rejects is Rob Zombie's slavish copying of a particular brand of seventies films. He doesn't even try to bring anything new to the business, just making a nasty seventies exploitation film a couple of decades too late. It's witless and artless and a kind of wank material for people who want to see senseless, pointless killing and boobs. It would be fine if that was all he was trying to do, but there are too many things inserted that make it seem like he's trying for something loftier and when he doesn't get anywhere near them it's difficult to decide whether to scud him on the head for being so inept or pat his weirdly-hatted bonce in commiseration for making an attempt.
And while we're on the subject of mindlessly copying the work of other directors, having seen The Lords of Salem, it seems he'd watched a bit of Stanley Kubrick, only instead of taking the lessons of story-telling and character he took away STATIC SHOTS and DRAGGING SCENES. So many static shots for no reason. You're not learning anything, it's not moving the plot along and it's not creating tension. What's the fucking point, man?
I mean, again, better than either The Devil's Rejects or House of 1,000 Corpses, but still a million miles away from being a good film. He shows a wee bit of restraint when it comes to the violence, but his need to have waaaaaay too much nudity is yawn-inducing. Actually, I'll correct that: too much female nudity. I'm a red-blooded heterosexual male, I enjoy looking at the female form, but when it's just women parading around nude, for no real purpose, it gets creepy. It does get to the point where a full-frontal naked guy would be something of a relief; it would make it feel less like some leering pervert's sitting next to you massaging himself. Urk.
I dunno if there's something inherently wrong with modern horror, or if this kind of rot has always been there, but Rob Zombie's films are kind of indicative of something a bit skewed about the genre. The need to parade unpleasant violence and nudity in place of story and character makes me feel a lot of horror film makers miss the point of the genre. Like most genres it's about showing us fundamental truths about humanity, yeah that sounds fucking pretentious, but it doesn't make it any less true, but a lot of directors seem to think it's an excuse to show off boobs and wave a dripping pancreas in our faces while screaming, "Ha ha ha ha! Isn't this fucking awesome!"
Rob Zombie probably isn't beyond redemption as a film maker. There were a few points in The Devil's Rejects, actually some of the best scenes, where he showed a keen sense of comic timing. Perhaps ditching horror and making a foray into comedy might work out better.
* Okay, not everything. Some things. In case you hadn't noticed I'm not the most open-minded person. I'm not the most closed-minded, either. Receptive to some things more than others. Like A REAL HUMAN BEING! Gasp.
** And don't forget that little smattering of misogyny, that shit gets everywhere and leaves a funky smell.
† I even got to see White Zombie the one time they toured in the UK. Throwing that out there for no particular reason.
Will
Wednesday 9 April 2014
Gonna Pop a Vein.
You ever cast about like a fucking maniac trying to find something to take up some space? You ever do that? Just me?
It looks like it comes so easily to other bloggers. Every week they have something new to tell us, and here I am, almost in tears trying to think of something to say that will inspire and entertain. It makes me wonder if I have an extremely boring life. Might be that I need to get out and do a wee bit more living. Then I look at my bank balance.
You know that thing about money can't buy you happiness? Yeah, it isn't that simple. Having money and just shoving it in a bank account to watch it accumulate isn't going to make you very happy*. Having money ready for when you need it and then using to have fun will make you happy. Well, it will certainly make your life richer in experience. Sometimes.
I used to have money. I'll let you pick yourself up off the floor from that bombshell. You wouldn't think it to look at me, but I used to have quite a comfortable bank balance. I didn't do much with it. Then I blew all on stuff I didn't really want**. That wasn't the best time in my life. I should have spent all my money years before†. I might not have so many regrets.
Instead of being so dull when it came to summer holidays I should have got myself a passport and zoomed around a bit. My younger self could have benefited from zipping to comic cons in the US and schmoozing with people in the business. Ah, if my youthful incarnation had even half the ambition and one percent of the knowledge I do now, he wouldn't have been seen for dust‡. Boom! On a plane. Bang! At a convention. ?! Profit and enriching experience!
But, then, I did what I did, which wasn't very much at all. So here I am, banging my head off a desk, trying to think of interesting things to write about instead of thinking about how important money is in the modern world, how integral it is to get by and why this shouldn't be. Oh, yes and boring you, I can see you nodding. I'll leave it there and let you snore and dribble.
I think I could do with some cheering up.
* Or, it doesn't for most people. There are probably a few Scrooge McDuck types out there who would go swimming in their money bins if they could.
** There's a whole story there, but it's not for the internet. Lemme have some kind of mystery about me, you bastards.
† Really, Will, hindsight? You really are getting desperate, aren't you?
‡ He could really have done with his grammar getting a shake-up. Not that I'm perfect now, but he was really terrible. It's embarrassing, he needs a slap.
Will
It looks like it comes so easily to other bloggers. Every week they have something new to tell us, and here I am, almost in tears trying to think of something to say that will inspire and entertain. It makes me wonder if I have an extremely boring life. Might be that I need to get out and do a wee bit more living. Then I look at my bank balance.
You know that thing about money can't buy you happiness? Yeah, it isn't that simple. Having money and just shoving it in a bank account to watch it accumulate isn't going to make you very happy*. Having money ready for when you need it and then using to have fun will make you happy. Well, it will certainly make your life richer in experience. Sometimes.
I used to have money. I'll let you pick yourself up off the floor from that bombshell. You wouldn't think it to look at me, but I used to have quite a comfortable bank balance. I didn't do much with it. Then I blew all on stuff I didn't really want**. That wasn't the best time in my life. I should have spent all my money years before†. I might not have so many regrets.
Instead of being so dull when it came to summer holidays I should have got myself a passport and zoomed around a bit. My younger self could have benefited from zipping to comic cons in the US and schmoozing with people in the business. Ah, if my youthful incarnation had even half the ambition and one percent of the knowledge I do now, he wouldn't have been seen for dust‡. Boom! On a plane. Bang! At a convention. ?! Profit and enriching experience!
But, then, I did what I did, which wasn't very much at all. So here I am, banging my head off a desk, trying to think of interesting things to write about instead of thinking about how important money is in the modern world, how integral it is to get by and why this shouldn't be. Oh, yes and boring you, I can see you nodding. I'll leave it there and let you snore and dribble.
I think I could do with some cheering up.
* Or, it doesn't for most people. There are probably a few Scrooge McDuck types out there who would go swimming in their money bins if they could.
** There's a whole story there, but it's not for the internet. Lemme have some kind of mystery about me, you bastards.
† Really, Will, hindsight? You really are getting desperate, aren't you?
‡ He could really have done with his grammar getting a shake-up. Not that I'm perfect now, but he was really terrible. It's embarrassing, he needs a slap.
Will
Wednesday 2 April 2014
It Had to Happen.
Yeah. I've got nothing.
Just as I expected to happen, I'm coming up dry. Not a lot's happening that I feel strongly enough to go on about. This week has been particularly quiet.
I'll rack my brain for something to say for next week.
Will
Just as I expected to happen, I'm coming up dry. Not a lot's happening that I feel strongly enough to go on about. This week has been particularly quiet.
I'll rack my brain for something to say for next week.
Will
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)