I don't usually post personal, deep stuff on this blog, but tonight I think I will, for three reasons. One, I have a cold and am feeling even more self-pitying than usual. Two, I'm still going through my video-blogging obsessive phase (you'll see why this is relevant). Three, it never occurred to me to post deep stuff on here until my friends Roz and Lewis started doing it. For the record, if you care, this blog is going to make a lot more sense if you read an earlier blog I posted called 'My Friend Rosalind'. In other words, it's very personal and therefore probably not very interesting to anybody that doesn't know me.....
Anyway, the thing I intended to focus my newfound deepness (or depth, as people who speak the English Language usually refer to it......) on is that feeling I'm sure we've all felt of being....secondary. Like there's always someone who is just that little bit better than you in that little way that doesn't actually matter to anyone but yourself. I suppose it's kind of an insecurity, except I've never considered myself an insecure person - I'm too blunt for that; it would be amazingly hypocritical of me to get immediately impatient with someone for being insecure when it was something I suffered from myself (though actually......that's made me think twice.......).
Ach, I'm waffling again - I never seem to be able to get to the point quickly on these bloody blogs....
Right. Quick and straightforward. The two people I've been watching the most on YouTube are Charlie McDonnell (charlieissocoollike) and Alex Day (nerimon), who are both very popular (but Charlie moreso) vloggers, best friends and flatmates. Both also have written blogs, and though I've read some of Charlie's, I only stumbled on to Alex's about half an hour ago - and I was quite surprised by what I found there. Because much as I love Charlie, I have to say that I felt more of a.....I suppose 'kinship' is an appropriate word here, but 'connection' and 'relatibility' would do nicely (if relatability is, in fact, a word) - to Alex. He's generally more sarcastic, angrier and with more of a biting sense of humour - in other words, more like me. And then it hit me. I am the Alex to Roz's Charlie.
The parallels are eerie. Charlie and Roz are mild-mannered, quirky, easygoing, a bit shy and ultimately very loveable. Alex and myself are sarcastic, cynical, somewhat angry, honest to the point of outright brusqueness and very slightly bitter over our failings in comparison to our best friends (though I should point out here that Alex is also hysterically funny). Obviously these are very generalised statements - I clearly don't know Charlie or Alex personally and am sure they are much deeper than I just made them sound, but the point still stands. But if you looked at those two lists, you would probably consider that Roz (and Charlie) is (are) probably a more likeable person (people) than myself (and Alex). And you're probably right. And of course there are some ways in which I'd excel further than Roz - I'm more independent, gobby and much more willing to use punctuation (Roz has an inexplicable and - to grammar nerds like myself - intensely frustrating habit of eschewing all commas).
And there was really no point to this realisation, because it doesn't change anything. Despite my kinship with Alex Day, I'd still marry Charlie (though admittedly, a large part of that is because Alex is considerably shorter and skinnier than me) - but that's exactly the worrying part. So I'm very sorry if you prefer the casual sarcasm I usually employ in my blog, but everything I've just offloaded can be excused by this simple fact - I am poorly, and on a LOT of cold-relief capsules right now...
Friday, 26 November 2010
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Creativity vs. Ego
I am, by nature, a creative person. This has manifested itself in many different forms over the years, the main one being in writing (duh). I can't remember whether or not I've mentioned this before, but I have actually written several books over the past few years -- when I was 14/15 I wrote a fantasy trilogy. Well, okay, I quit three-quarters of the way through the third book (heartbreaking, isn't it?), but it still counts because I wrote - overall - over 270,000 words worth of fantasy fluff which - to put in perspective - is the size of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and then some. So that was quite a project, and it took me about two years to write and six months to send it off to a bunch of agencies, collecting some rejections and some positive feedback, but not what I was subconsciously expecting - a however-many-novels-you-choose-to-scribble book deal.
My ego bruised, I moved on to another writing project - this one a little more original and mature and a little less plagiaristic (is that a word, do we think?). This, being a stand-alone novel and not a trilogy, took me a little under a year and was roughly 130,000 words long at it's peak (about 30,000 words bit the editing dust). I've spent the past few months sending that off, and have yet to receive anything other than the rejections I'm growing remarkably accustomed to.
However, this constant battering of my confidence did eventually have an effect. I had what I think I'm big enough to admit was a temper-tantrum with writing, and decided that I'd had enough. I wasn't going to write any more books. Articles yes, blogs yes (though I realise that the frequency of evidence kind of stamps on my point there), essays yes (unfortunately), but no more novels. If the world wasn't going to fall at my feet and worship my unparalleled writing superiority then it could bloody well get lost.
I reached this distinctly stroppy conclusion a month or so ago, but quickly ran into an obstacle in my newfound resolution. Writing a book is incredibly time-consuming, which meant that after more than three years of spending my free evenings writing, I suddenly had nothing to do. If I remember correctly, I lasted through about three evenings of mind-numbing television and staring at computer screens before I realised that this kind of lifestyle would send me round the twist. Several days after this, the restlessness in my brain's creativity-centre reached fever-pitch and - since this collided nicely with my discovery of the YouTube community and video-blogging - I had another epiphany. Writing or not writing, if I didn't find some king of creative outlet I was going to go mad. So I signed up to YouTube and started making/editing/uploading video blogs. My obsession lasted about a week, and then I realised that YouTube still wasn't quite satisfying my creative needs, so I spontaneously decided that I was going to teach myself how to play the guitar.
However, a few days later, I felt a story idea growing in my mind - one I had been considering before my tantrum, and one which suddenly seemed to slide into a definable, exciting shape. Before I realised what I was doing, I had scribbled out a brief synopsis for another trilogy. That was okay though, I told myself - I was allowed one slip after my initial determination to abandon writing faded. But then, one late and boring evening, I found myself opening a word document and scribbling out a beginning to the story I had sketched out the previous day. There was no point denying it any more.
And eventually I realised; I can't run away from writing any more than I can run away from being cynical, or sarcastic, or honest, or moody. It's just a part of who I am, and however many bashes my ego endures, or rejections I receive, or hissy-fits I throw, it's never going to change the fact that I am in love with / obsessed with / addicted to writing.
So whilst my tantrum had it's benefits - I now have good fun making YouTube videos and the will to finally learn to play the guitar - it was, ultimately, pointless. I am returning to my homeland of Writing, and know it will welcome my back with open arms.
My ego bruised, I moved on to another writing project - this one a little more original and mature and a little less plagiaristic (is that a word, do we think?). This, being a stand-alone novel and not a trilogy, took me a little under a year and was roughly 130,000 words long at it's peak (about 30,000 words bit the editing dust). I've spent the past few months sending that off, and have yet to receive anything other than the rejections I'm growing remarkably accustomed to.
However, this constant battering of my confidence did eventually have an effect. I had what I think I'm big enough to admit was a temper-tantrum with writing, and decided that I'd had enough. I wasn't going to write any more books. Articles yes, blogs yes (though I realise that the frequency of evidence kind of stamps on my point there), essays yes (unfortunately), but no more novels. If the world wasn't going to fall at my feet and worship my unparalleled writing superiority then it could bloody well get lost.
I reached this distinctly stroppy conclusion a month or so ago, but quickly ran into an obstacle in my newfound resolution. Writing a book is incredibly time-consuming, which meant that after more than three years of spending my free evenings writing, I suddenly had nothing to do. If I remember correctly, I lasted through about three evenings of mind-numbing television and staring at computer screens before I realised that this kind of lifestyle would send me round the twist. Several days after this, the restlessness in my brain's creativity-centre reached fever-pitch and - since this collided nicely with my discovery of the YouTube community and video-blogging - I had another epiphany. Writing or not writing, if I didn't find some king of creative outlet I was going to go mad. So I signed up to YouTube and started making/editing/uploading video blogs. My obsession lasted about a week, and then I realised that YouTube still wasn't quite satisfying my creative needs, so I spontaneously decided that I was going to teach myself how to play the guitar.
However, a few days later, I felt a story idea growing in my mind - one I had been considering before my tantrum, and one which suddenly seemed to slide into a definable, exciting shape. Before I realised what I was doing, I had scribbled out a brief synopsis for another trilogy. That was okay though, I told myself - I was allowed one slip after my initial determination to abandon writing faded. But then, one late and boring evening, I found myself opening a word document and scribbling out a beginning to the story I had sketched out the previous day. There was no point denying it any more.
And eventually I realised; I can't run away from writing any more than I can run away from being cynical, or sarcastic, or honest, or moody. It's just a part of who I am, and however many bashes my ego endures, or rejections I receive, or hissy-fits I throw, it's never going to change the fact that I am in love with / obsessed with / addicted to writing.
So whilst my tantrum had it's benefits - I now have good fun making YouTube videos and the will to finally learn to play the guitar - it was, ultimately, pointless. I am returning to my homeland of Writing, and know it will welcome my back with open arms.
Monday, 8 November 2010
My Friend Rosalind
Now, I know that normally my blogs are either ranting about something (the clue is in the name), or making a completely pointless list, but today I would like to tell you (all three of you) about my friend Rosalind. I apologise if you like the sarcastic, cynical humour I usually employ in my writing, but this is gonna be a tad more serious I'm afraid...
Now Roz has been my best friend for several years now, and we spend more time together than is probably healthy for many friendships. We've only ever had one proper argument (and I think it basically just involved throwing a bottle of water at each other harder than was strictly necessary) and I tell her more or less everything, whilst she tells me things she doesn't tell others (just to be clear, I don't mean life-changing secrets, I just mean those embarrassing, obsessive little things you do that you resolve not to tell anyone for fear of them realising just how geeky you are). The reason we're friends is a continual mystery to me, since we are NOTHING like each other -- I'm loud, gobby, moody, cynical, blunt, open and generally quite an outgoing, extroverted nerd. Roz is quiet, unbelievably mild-mannered, secretive, indecisive, generous, tactful and blessed with a semi-permanently sunny disposition. The two traits we do share are laziness and stubborness, which is not a good thing -- ever had a half-hour argument with someone over who has to get out of bed and turn the light off? Ever lost one? Quite frustrating.
Anyway, that introductory paragraph was waaaayy too long, so I'll get to the point. Ish.
My friendship with Roz was called into service last week, when Roz's boyfriend of three months broke up with her. Now this is a much bigger deal than it sounds, and much bigger than I had expected it to be -- Roz had never shown much interest in guys before, and this was her first boyfriend; I would have expected her to go into the relationship cautiously, carefully and with a certain amount of arms-lengthness (that's definitely not a word) involved. But she didn't -- she fell for this guy hook, line and sinker, only to have him break up with her after three months. The consequences were, frankly, horrible. As far as I'm concerned, nobody is allowed to make Roz cry, and certainly not to that extent -- it tore at my heart to see hers so battered. Anyway, it's been over a week since it happened, and though I'm still sure it's bothering her more than she's letting on, she has definitely cheered up.
The thing is, I felt absolutely bloody awful, because I am completely unnecessarily mean to Roz sometimes. Not in a bullying way, just in that snide, slightly bitchy way that girls have and I desperately wish I didn't. This means that just occassionally I'll snap at her, because she's being so optimistic when I'm feeling so determined to be grumpy, or I'll sigh irritably at her because she hasn't made a decision quite fast enough for me, or I'll subtly put her down because she looks so bloody fantastic in that skirt that I feel like the dumpy, bespectacled friend in comparison (not that I am bespectacled these days...I was just going for the imagery). And I know that these moments of bitchiness are born of insecurities, but there's absolutely no need to take it out on Roz, and in moments of confession like this, I know that Blunt Becky's advice to Whiney Becky would be to get a grip and stop being such a girl.
But the thing is, however much I moan and gripe and whine about and to Roz, she's one of the absolute best people in the world, and a continuing inspiration to me. I realise this has been a really gushy, heavy-going, girly and overly-long post, but just occasionally I like to take a break from the cynicism (being that sceptical and sarcastic is tiring you know) and appreciate the things and the people I DO have, rather than whining about what I don't.
So to summarise; I adore my friend Rosalind, and not just because she wouldn't tell anybody that I bought charlieissocoollike's band's single.
Now Roz has been my best friend for several years now, and we spend more time together than is probably healthy for many friendships. We've only ever had one proper argument (and I think it basically just involved throwing a bottle of water at each other harder than was strictly necessary) and I tell her more or less everything, whilst she tells me things she doesn't tell others (just to be clear, I don't mean life-changing secrets, I just mean those embarrassing, obsessive little things you do that you resolve not to tell anyone for fear of them realising just how geeky you are). The reason we're friends is a continual mystery to me, since we are NOTHING like each other -- I'm loud, gobby, moody, cynical, blunt, open and generally quite an outgoing, extroverted nerd. Roz is quiet, unbelievably mild-mannered, secretive, indecisive, generous, tactful and blessed with a semi-permanently sunny disposition. The two traits we do share are laziness and stubborness, which is not a good thing -- ever had a half-hour argument with someone over who has to get out of bed and turn the light off? Ever lost one? Quite frustrating.
Anyway, that introductory paragraph was waaaayy too long, so I'll get to the point. Ish.
My friendship with Roz was called into service last week, when Roz's boyfriend of three months broke up with her. Now this is a much bigger deal than it sounds, and much bigger than I had expected it to be -- Roz had never shown much interest in guys before, and this was her first boyfriend; I would have expected her to go into the relationship cautiously, carefully and with a certain amount of arms-lengthness (that's definitely not a word) involved. But she didn't -- she fell for this guy hook, line and sinker, only to have him break up with her after three months. The consequences were, frankly, horrible. As far as I'm concerned, nobody is allowed to make Roz cry, and certainly not to that extent -- it tore at my heart to see hers so battered. Anyway, it's been over a week since it happened, and though I'm still sure it's bothering her more than she's letting on, she has definitely cheered up.
The thing is, I felt absolutely bloody awful, because I am completely unnecessarily mean to Roz sometimes. Not in a bullying way, just in that snide, slightly bitchy way that girls have and I desperately wish I didn't. This means that just occassionally I'll snap at her, because she's being so optimistic when I'm feeling so determined to be grumpy, or I'll sigh irritably at her because she hasn't made a decision quite fast enough for me, or I'll subtly put her down because she looks so bloody fantastic in that skirt that I feel like the dumpy, bespectacled friend in comparison (not that I am bespectacled these days...I was just going for the imagery). And I know that these moments of bitchiness are born of insecurities, but there's absolutely no need to take it out on Roz, and in moments of confession like this, I know that Blunt Becky's advice to Whiney Becky would be to get a grip and stop being such a girl.
But the thing is, however much I moan and gripe and whine about and to Roz, she's one of the absolute best people in the world, and a continuing inspiration to me. I realise this has been a really gushy, heavy-going, girly and overly-long post, but just occasionally I like to take a break from the cynicism (being that sceptical and sarcastic is tiring you know) and appreciate the things and the people I DO have, rather than whining about what I don't.
So to summarise; I adore my friend Rosalind, and not just because she wouldn't tell anybody that I bought charlieissocoollike's band's single.
Monday, 1 November 2010
vloggingissocoollike
Just to clarify, I am not the sort of person that spends hours watching Youtube videos of random people, sat at home with video cameras and no social lives. Being the infinitely cooler person that I am, if I use Youtube it's for cyber-stalking a celebrity, listening to music or watching sad-arsed romantic movie montages (which makes me sound much better). However, over the past few days, a couple of friends who DO watch these vloggers I so hypocritically mock, have sat me down and showed me a vlog or two ('vlog', for people as technologically challenged as me, apparently means 'video blog').
My favourite, by far and away, was the charlieissocoollike blog, which I can't really explain in any way that will make it sound as good as it is. Just Youtube Charlie for yourself and you'll understand. He's probably my favourite because he seems disturbingly on my wavelength in terms of opinions, Doctor Who and having a wicked accent (in that he has one and I appreciate it, not that we both have one......not that my accent is horrible, I just want to be clear that there was no arrogance involved in that statement.....). Anyway, I was just feeling inspired to post on the worldwide web, despite the fact nobody reads this, due to charlieissocoollike. I have also decided to update my youtube account, dream about being a competent vlogger and intend to vlog my gap year. Just for kicks.
My favourite, by far and away, was the charlieissocoollike blog, which I can't really explain in any way that will make it sound as good as it is. Just Youtube Charlie for yourself and you'll understand. He's probably my favourite because he seems disturbingly on my wavelength in terms of opinions, Doctor Who and having a wicked accent (in that he has one and I appreciate it, not that we both have one......not that my accent is horrible, I just want to be clear that there was no arrogance involved in that statement.....). Anyway, I was just feeling inspired to post on the worldwide web, despite the fact nobody reads this, due to charlieissocoollike. I have also decided to update my youtube account, dream about being a competent vlogger and intend to vlog my gap year. Just for kicks.
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