Crap @ MindSay

Its 4 in the morning and I have a paper to write. I could have been done with it by now, but I hate this class and I do NOT want to do it. 

First of all, to be sure no one gets the wrong impression, I am not a materialist. I don't live for possessions. I'm not wealthy in the material sense, and anyone that visits my home can see that. That being said, I can and very much do appreciate nice things. That is, well-designed and built things. Beautiful things. I appreciate them very much.

As an aspiring engineer, however, I see things on a daily basis that make me want to vomit. I see the formed plastic stereos, the lifeless, characterless TVs, and the slabs of particle board held together with plastic bolts that make "couches" and "tables" and "desks" and "chairs"

Do you know how hard it is to fix something like that when it breaks?
You probably haven't tried.
Almost no one does.

People buy new stereos and TVs and furniture all the time.
They buy new crap that will break just like last month's crap.
New crap replaces old crap, and then maybe a profit.
Particleboard accumulates until an overconsumption equilibrium is reached.
Or until you run out of space for the excess plastic.

The life of a stereo is now determined by the life of an underengineered plastic clip holding one piece to another.

Determined by the life of the in or out jack that they could not afford a panel mount nut for breaking the circuit board.

Because it is so cheap, repair is out of the question.
Because it is so cheap, people will not go through the trouble of thinking, of concerning themselves with it. They buy a new one, for want of a screw or button.
Because it is accepted so cheap, it will be built to a standard that cannot be repaired.
Because it is so cheap, it will inevitably die because of the equivalent of a splinter.

This is important because our memories are tied to external objects all the time. Because an old record may remind us of an old relative, because the solid wood desk in your home reminds you of the hell of a time you and your friend had lugging it up three flights of stairs. Because owning it can be a rewarding memory in itself. Not the memory of screwing together particle board with plastic.

I'm not telling you that mass production is bad. We need mass produced microprocessors. We do. Do we need tables that turn into oatmeal when they get wet? No.

Voodoo Child is one of the greatest sounding guitar amps I've ever heard.
Not gloating.
I built it with my hands.
Do you know how rewarding that is?
Moreover, do you know how long I'll have it?
A very long time indeed.

I'm planning to build a stereo around similar components.
I'm going to build a stereo that is robust.
A stereo that I can fix in 20 minutes if anything goes wrong and I have the parts on hand.
A stereo hand built to a quality that cannot be bought.

That is my personal war on crap.
A war on overconsumption.
A war against cheap trash that will be replaced over and over.
I plan to replace most of the things I have in that manner.
I will replace the plastic bolts and particleboard with robustness, with the flesh of a strong oak.
With an item that will last as long as it took the trees that made it to grow.
Yes, I'll replace the foil and foam with pillars of steel.
Indeed, it is still impermanent.
It is, however, less wasteful.
It is not pissing on craftsmanship.
Its a careful, involved, human. One that cannot go as fast as the machines with careless, poorly trained operators. One that cannot be as consistent.

One that will be better.

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Dixie currently feels:

 Neutral

 

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Blog #24

Movies & Mess

 

 

We did more filming today. :)

We got 11 clips done - some re-makes of old ones and a few new ones too.

 

We started with a scene of Jonathan lying in bed suffering excessive painful nightmares. Ash could barely do it for laughing. She did these really agonised groans - then burst out laughing.

 

"Oh yeah! Nightmares are PROPER hilarious aren't they Ash?"

"They proper are!"

 

Then we dolled her up in the suit once more - with a different tie this time - took a few shots of her creeping around doorframes with her cane in hand, calling out Abigail's name - ready for a nice wooden beating.

 

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Then came the time I'd been dreading - the re-do of the trip scene.

It's been snowing, raining and hailstoning ALL WEEK. The field was slippery - the mud clung to your shoes.

 

I still added a bucket of water to the mud patch for good measure.

...But we really should have tried a new location.

 

The fall was fine - it didn't hurt - I landed flat on my face - it all splattered over my face.

I was alright, until I realised I hadn't just slid through mud.

...The saturated remains of animal droppings had also been present there - and I had a mouthful of crap - LITERALLY.

 

I just grimaced, groaned - stood up straight after Ash had said her line. I could smell it on my shirt, taste it on my lips - I just made a run for the gate - tore off my clothes - dived in the shower and scrubbed this foulness from my person.

I spent about 10 minutes brushing my teeth too. ...Now I can actually say I've tasted shit...

 

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Thankfully - I wasn't the only one getting absolutley covered in various substances.

 

We re-did some scenes from the first filming day - scenes of Abigail beating up Jonathan with blood all over his face - hitting him in the jaw with his own cane until he drooled blood down his shoulder.

 

Then we did what Ash was dreading - the vomit scene!

I re-made the vomit with the same oats and milk - took out the flour, as it almost made Ash REALLY vomit last time. She requested peas in it this time - so that gave it some funky colour.

 

To make it even worse - I'd tipped some down her shirt in advance before she spat some out on camera - and it ended up absorbing through her shirt - and thus drenching her underwear.

She spent most of the day not wearing any. It's alright for her though - she doesn't really have a great deal in the chest department. :D

 

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We spent the rest of the day eating hot-dogs, playing World Tour and engaging in our usual banter.

 

Then Ash requested I start playing Resident Evil.

...My WORD. It's fucking mint - but it's fucking hard.

 

The graphics are awesome - I love seeing Jill's sexy arse in her tight combats when she bends down to pick up green herbs. Looks so much better in 128 bit than her usual 64 bit on the Playstation and DS counterparts. :)

So I had a quite odd dream last night, but then after I thought about it, it really wasn't all that odd. I figured out exactly what it means.

 

Well it started off that me & my boyfriend were together somewhere, and he had to leave. His parents were in a car waiting for him, only they looked older. They were calling him to get in the car but he didn't want to go, he would kiss me, go towards the car, come back & kiss me again, go towards the car, etc. Then he finally went in. *sarcasm* (THAT doesn't sound familiar....)

 

Then I was in a car with my grandmother, my brothers, and 2 girls I know. We had been out all day, and we were hungry, so we told her to stop at this food place. (I think it was Red Robin?) So we went in & my mom and dad were in there too. The place was an absolute wreck. It looked like it had been abandoned for 100 years except for the people eating in there. The entrance was at the top, and there were 3 or 4 floors. My mom & dad were sitting at a floor below us (you could see down to all of them, there were no walls dividing) and there were no stairs! They told us to jump down to them. Now while the jump was only about 5 feet or so, I still found it utterly rediculous that I had to jump down to the floors. Then we couldn't find a place to sit, because most tables only sat 2 people, and they were all filled. The chairs were pieces of wooden crap, as were the tables. The building was wooden too, and everything was painted that white that looks like you tried to cover up crap, but it still looks horrible. I had to use the bathroom, and they said it was on the top floor so I was wondering how I was going to get up there. (There was a door on the bottom floor to the outside as well, but I didn't use it, didn't think to) So I asked the people that worked there, and it turns out there was one staircase. It was very narrow & beat up, and didn't lead to any other floors, only the top one. So I opened the wooden door (the 2 girls were with me) and there was one crappy little toilet in this big room. The sink looked prehistoric. So I used the toilet, and for some strange reason I didn't care that the other 2 girls were in there, and neither did they. When I stood up to flush it, the floor starting tilting, the whole floor! So I quickly ran to the other side to stabalize it before we fell off the damn thing. After that we all ran out, screaming that this place was about to fall apart. No one seemed to notice, nor care. I once again had to jump off the side in order to get back where I was. My parents were acting like nothing was wrong. Sure the girls realized it once the floor was about to tilt & fall underneath them, but before that, they didn't care either.

 

Yep, I can totally see where this came from.

I had a dream last night. It was pretty straight forward; I don't think I want to go into details right now anyway.

I was at school and the gyms were open for some testing and this kid was harassing me and  did something to me, I forgot, I think he broke some of my stuff and or punched me in the face. Well After the testing was over I was outside the gym and saw him and started beating the crap out of him because I felt justified but I ended up killing him. This was to be followed up on the cops showing up a few minutes later because of the schools camera systems. I was on trial and I tried to explain how unhappy I was and how this kid had given me shit for so long and no one would help me but the one day I decided to do something he hits his head in the beating and gets killed. No one would sympathize, not the jury, not the judge, not the media, not the cops. Very few people believed me but those people were in no position to help me. I new I would have been executed but they wanted me to know. I told them to do it now but they felt obligated to tell me just what I had did even though  I was set to be killed. I felt like The Stranger