Well a new X Factor champion was crowned and now the whole of the UK can finally come off the edge of their seats. My Sunday night will now won't be the same for another 8-9 months - I'm going to miss those incredibly passionate Facebook updates claiming injustice (Fix, fix, fix!), racism (that Simon Cowell don't like us Welsh) or absolute disgust over whose who do or don't stay in.
As you can gather, I'm not a fan. However I did watch it a little bit and try to feign some interest, just to know what everyone was going on about (I was convinced Jedward was some place by Newcastle at first). In fact, I've just started my mini-protest by joining another bandwagon - the bid to make Rage Against The Machine the Christmas Number one single. The campaign on Facebook has been going for weeks and has had some good media coverage (I heard from NME). It has been the strongest of some sister campaigns (there's also a Journey - Don't Stop Believin' for No.1 Facebook group somewhere) and now it is believed that the bookies are sweating. Odds have been slashed from 100-1 to 3-1 after the publicity it has gathered. But the bookies aren't the only one whose sweating - Cowell has been on the defensive, branding the campaign as 'stupid'. So tonight I've just bought my copy of Killing in the Name from iTunes. Take that Cowell and Co! You like that? You want some more? I'll just buy another from a different IP address! Hah!
Before I carry on with the Cowell bashing, I have to take a step back and fully realise what I'm actually doing. I already own Killing in the Name from the RATM Album, so I've effectively just paid 99p for another copy of a song I already have. Why? To hope that I and the 700,000+ others will actually effect the Christmas Number 1 by buying copying of the song, to outsell the X Factor single (really, a Miley Cyrus cover?) which has now been released after the result.
It does seem a bit silly. There are some commentators who say this is a waste of time for many reasons. For one, Cowell probably isn't sweating in reality, because RATM are signed up to Sony and he is likely to benefit from the sales just as much as Geordie Joe. Therefore you probably not taking two fingers up to him financially by buying a copy. Secondly, it isn't a true reflection of Christmas and Killing In The Name is a song from the ninties (although that didn't stop that awful Mad World taking it - yeah that's right, I hated that song). Lastly, surely this campaign can't win? The Christmas number one is truly monopolised these days and it will take more than a bunch of Raged Facebookers to turn the tide when you consider the sheer weight of the X Factor brand.
When it comes down to it, I played along and invested my hard-earned 99p not just for a bit of fun, but it is just one giant experiment to truly test the power of social networking on a annual tradition which has completely changed over the years. With the decline of the CD single and the rise of digital downloads, it meant the floodgates had opened. This means that songs from any era that people buy could be counted towards the music chart. Remember that song by Black Sabbath you always liked but never had? Well now you can own it if it's available online and if a helluva lot of people feel the same way, you can actually influence the weekly chart. But with that, you have to consider the musical zeitgeist of the day on the habits of people's downloading. For example, when Michael Jackson died, it was inevitable that the charts would be flooded with Thriller, Beat It, Bille Jean and so on. If a new Rockband/Guitar Hero game is out of a particular band e.g. The Beatles, it would be no suprise that Hey Jude would sit top of the pile. The campaign of viral messages, Twitter posts and Facebook groups are proven effective communication tools. But could it shape future Christmas number ones?
For me, the Christmas number one stopped being the Christmas number one when the X Factor bullied and assumed the right to it a few years back. Maybe I don't know what the perfect Crimbo song sounds like, but for a start I'd like it to be... well, Christmassy! Stick some bells in there, with a choir or something! But now the whole thing is a sham, with absolute predictability and zero Crimbo content. I mean c'mon, at least Killing in the Name has some cow bell....
Showing posts with label moaning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moaning. Show all posts
The Blurst of Times
It is the blurst of times. The word 'meh' is perhaps the best way to describe it.
This week's TTFE-L game has given me some real food for thought. To summarise, we conceded against the run of play, then went 3 goals down, strewn chance after chance and were humbled by a side we beat 12-2 in a reverse fixture. Losing 3-1, it was a match which could have unearthed as many footballing cliches as a Mick McCarthy post match interview, but above all we just didn't take our chances.
Games like these should make it think that some teams, maybe all, just have a bad day at the office. But maybe I delude myself in thinking that we are often better than we are, or perhaps, I am better than what I am. We all make mistakes - but I often think I don't learn from them enough and that is what is most important (great, another cliche).
Were we bad? Perhaps. We should be playing better with a full squad against a bare five side and now we've had a while to gel, teething problems are no excuse. It was a far cry from last week, summed up nicely by Riv (and honestly, it isn't because of the kudos I got). Is it OTT to say this result was a backward step?
I think above all, games like these often make me think about the performance too much. When I go on a gut feeling and strip the result from the equation, the lads put in a good shift. The thoughts after the game seemed to sum up just that. I just can't decide whether the result was good or bad really, avoiding the obvious nature of a loss denoting some kind of negativity. It's just meh.
Kind of the way I feel about Copenhagen too which starts tomorrow. I really can't get excited about it, nor think of it as some kind of lost cause just yet. It certainly has relevance for raising the issue of climate change, in fact it should actually do something about it. But I just can't muster the enthusaism to think it will actually do anything at all useful. It feels almost like the last roll of the dice on a global scale and I hope it wont be just another giant white elephant gesture just like Kyoto. Meh.
This week's TTFE-L game has given me some real food for thought. To summarise, we conceded against the run of play, then went 3 goals down, strewn chance after chance and were humbled by a side we beat 12-2 in a reverse fixture. Losing 3-1, it was a match which could have unearthed as many footballing cliches as a Mick McCarthy post match interview, but above all we just didn't take our chances.
Games like these should make it think that some teams, maybe all, just have a bad day at the office. But maybe I delude myself in thinking that we are often better than we are, or perhaps, I am better than what I am. We all make mistakes - but I often think I don't learn from them enough and that is what is most important (great, another cliche).
Were we bad? Perhaps. We should be playing better with a full squad against a bare five side and now we've had a while to gel, teething problems are no excuse. It was a far cry from last week, summed up nicely by Riv (and honestly, it isn't because of the kudos I got). Is it OTT to say this result was a backward step?
I think above all, games like these often make me think about the performance too much. When I go on a gut feeling and strip the result from the equation, the lads put in a good shift. The thoughts after the game seemed to sum up just that. I just can't decide whether the result was good or bad really, avoiding the obvious nature of a loss denoting some kind of negativity. It's just meh.
Kind of the way I feel about Copenhagen too which starts tomorrow. I really can't get excited about it, nor think of it as some kind of lost cause just yet. It certainly has relevance for raising the issue of climate change, in fact it should actually do something about it. But I just can't muster the enthusaism to think it will actually do anything at all useful. It feels almost like the last roll of the dice on a global scale and I hope it wont be just another giant white elephant gesture just like Kyoto. Meh.
Tired (Confessions of the Hired)
March already? Thats what you get when you blink for too long. Spring is upon us with such speed that One Man has hardly seen any winter posting at all. Shame on me - giving too much attention to other blogs and the TTFE history.
If truth be told however, I can't blame my lack of personal blogging totally on other written work. For now I am a working man, I have to admit defeat and say to all those bloggers who became extinct when they got new jobs that I too am dying a slow online death. I blogged so much over the last year (basically moaning that I couldn't get a job) and now that I have got a wage I've neglected the blogging page.
Shame really - I liked blogging too.
If truth be told however, I can't blame my lack of personal blogging totally on other written work. For now I am a working man, I have to admit defeat and say to all those bloggers who became extinct when they got new jobs that I too am dying a slow online death. I blogged so much over the last year (basically moaning that I couldn't get a job) and now that I have got a wage I've neglected the blogging page.
Shame really - I liked blogging too.
"It wears him out"
Evening all. My 24th birthday has been a good one, complete with lovely gifts and warming messages from friends old and new. You can tell I'm coming of age - my eyes lit up at the sign of a new shaver (Jen), some new jumpers (Mum and Dad) and the complete, seven part map of Great Britain (Janis and Mike). Last night the Argos crew were out in good force to celebrate mine and Baz's birthdays at the Hollywood Bowl, to take part in what has become to me a forgotten past time. I hope everyone had a good time as I know I did. Thanks again for coming out in droves!
As you may know by now, especially if you read the South Wales Echo, I am a rubbish superhero. My working alias, Bagman (a bloke who wears a coat covered in plastic bags), was exposed to Glamorgan and beyond and with no hope of retaining my secret identity, my standing amongst mates has taken a bit of a knock. Understandably. But despite this dent to my social dignity, the publicity stunt has widened the scope of what I am doing at Sustainable Wales, with people taking more of an interest in the plastic bag free cause.
Sad thing is now, I feel like plastic is taking over my life. I seem to be humming Radiohead's classic, 'Fake Plastic Trees' wherever I go - and in everything i do, I analyse alternatives to everything plastic, not just plastic bags. When picking up a chinese for tea (food not person), I was trying to discuss with my mum the practicalities of using less plastic bags in chip shops and takeaways, stating that they should at least use more paper, but not too much. I had to stop when I realised I was actually inspecting the plastic bags used for the prawn crackers. This over- enthusiasm isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is when you are the one who is driving.
Sometimes, I just wish I could stop thinking.
As you may know by now, especially if you read the South Wales Echo, I am a rubbish superhero. My working alias, Bagman (a bloke who wears a coat covered in plastic bags), was exposed to Glamorgan and beyond and with no hope of retaining my secret identity, my standing amongst mates has taken a bit of a knock. Understandably. But despite this dent to my social dignity, the publicity stunt has widened the scope of what I am doing at Sustainable Wales, with people taking more of an interest in the plastic bag free cause.
Sad thing is now, I feel like plastic is taking over my life. I seem to be humming Radiohead's classic, 'Fake Plastic Trees' wherever I go - and in everything i do, I analyse alternatives to everything plastic, not just plastic bags. When picking up a chinese for tea (food not person), I was trying to discuss with my mum the practicalities of using less plastic bags in chip shops and takeaways, stating that they should at least use more paper, but not too much. I had to stop when I realised I was actually inspecting the plastic bags used for the prawn crackers. This over- enthusiasm isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is when you are the one who is driving.
Sometimes, I just wish I could stop thinking.
Feeling Haggard
I feel rough. I don't think it is down to being tired; in fact, I feel like my new sleeping regime is actually beginning to work. My body clock is in the process of being reprogrammed as it was one of my New Year's resolutions to try and get regular sleeping patterns. It will be the first time since going to Mexico last summer that I have tried to get some normality back into my sleeping schedule. So its not the lack of kip. And although I have started a full time job, I surely can't be so tired after such a break over the Crimbo period.
Maybe it is the fact that I have just played football and I continue to sit in my own sweat filled filth. But lets be fair, those who know me will know I don't play much of the game to even create a drop of sweat on my brow. To say that football has given me this lethargic aura would not do any justice to any of the other players who graced the pitch for twelve minutes plus compared to my pitiful five.
Maybe it is paranoia and pure fear which is draining my reserves. With some strange sightings of the odd housefly and field mouse in my house over the past week, my senses have been thrown into overdrive. I would be kind to myself if I said I didn't suffer from paranoia or freak worry; triple-checking the front door is locked when leaving the house will certainly prove that I'm prone to some petty OCD. When a mouse does find a way into the home it always causes minor panic for even the mightiest of men; in fact, it made a nearly-24 year old man scream his lungs out in fright last night (no names mentioned). For me however, the common housefly is an even greater nemesis. One thing I hate about the summer are the swarms of flies which to-and-fro and in-and-out of the house, flying around, buzzing, perching themselves on living room walls, rubbing their legs together with glee... you get the picture. For the record, I vehemently hate all flying things from gnats to locusts and if they were to disappear tomorrow and with it destroy food webs everywhere, it would be a sacrifice worth making. However with such a passionate hatred of these winged fiends, there exists a resounding fear of them which is just as strong. I find it hard to be in the same room as a fly not just because I hate them, it is because I am simply shit-scared of them. So when one, average sized bluebottle appeared out of the blue in my bedroom the other day on a January afternoon, my self-defence system went berserk. Normally emerging in April, this premature launch of my 'fly-radar' may have some effect on my overall energy levels. But let's face it, that can't be the reason for feeling this way - that's just plain stupid.
Maybe I have caught a stomach bug or some kind of winter cold/virus. If I had, I probably wouldn't be typing. I moan like a bitch when I'm ill (I'm sure Jen could vouch for that) and although I have a daily love affair with my PCs, my grumpy mood swings would deter me from having the patience to allow the computers to boot up.
I guess it is just must be the winter blues then. I'm sure the most miserable day of the year is soon approaching; calculated by scientists who combine all the aftermath woes of the Xmas period, the cold weather, lack of money, shorter days etc. and pinpoint it to one day a day in mid/late January which emphasises them most. If it's on my birthday this year, there will be hell to pay - I'm not optimistic as my b'day is on a Monday this year....
Maybe it is the fact that I have just played football and I continue to sit in my own sweat filled filth. But lets be fair, those who know me will know I don't play much of the game to even create a drop of sweat on my brow. To say that football has given me this lethargic aura would not do any justice to any of the other players who graced the pitch for twelve minutes plus compared to my pitiful five.
Maybe it is paranoia and pure fear which is draining my reserves. With some strange sightings of the odd housefly and field mouse in my house over the past week, my senses have been thrown into overdrive. I would be kind to myself if I said I didn't suffer from paranoia or freak worry; triple-checking the front door is locked when leaving the house will certainly prove that I'm prone to some petty OCD. When a mouse does find a way into the home it always causes minor panic for even the mightiest of men; in fact, it made a nearly-24 year old man scream his lungs out in fright last night (no names mentioned). For me however, the common housefly is an even greater nemesis. One thing I hate about the summer are the swarms of flies which to-and-fro and in-and-out of the house, flying around, buzzing, perching themselves on living room walls, rubbing their legs together with glee... you get the picture. For the record, I vehemently hate all flying things from gnats to locusts and if they were to disappear tomorrow and with it destroy food webs everywhere, it would be a sacrifice worth making. However with such a passionate hatred of these winged fiends, there exists a resounding fear of them which is just as strong. I find it hard to be in the same room as a fly not just because I hate them, it is because I am simply shit-scared of them. So when one, average sized bluebottle appeared out of the blue in my bedroom the other day on a January afternoon, my self-defence system went berserk. Normally emerging in April, this premature launch of my 'fly-radar' may have some effect on my overall energy levels. But let's face it, that can't be the reason for feeling this way - that's just plain stupid.
Maybe I have caught a stomach bug or some kind of winter cold/virus. If I had, I probably wouldn't be typing. I moan like a bitch when I'm ill (I'm sure Jen could vouch for that) and although I have a daily love affair with my PCs, my grumpy mood swings would deter me from having the patience to allow the computers to boot up.
I guess it is just must be the winter blues then. I'm sure the most miserable day of the year is soon approaching; calculated by scientists who combine all the aftermath woes of the Xmas period, the cold weather, lack of money, shorter days etc. and pinpoint it to one day a day in mid/late January which emphasises them most. If it's on my birthday this year, there will be hell to pay - I'm not optimistic as my b'day is on a Monday this year....
Back home
Its been a while but if you are an avid One Man fan you will know where I've been. For the last two weeks Jenny and I have been in the sunny lands of Mexico, enjoying some much needed holiday time. Although my initial response is the typical British gripe about the scorching heat and the extreme weather conditions, it was great to see the Mayan ruins of both Chichen Itza and Tulum, whilst the all natural Xel Ha waterpark was absolutely breathtaking. The holiday was just so unbelievably different to any I have been on before, considering the long haul flight of 9 hours each way, the crystal blue Caribbean beach water and the interesting Mexican culture. We took 400+ photos, some of which can be seen on Jen's Facebook profile but I will put a few on here to give you a glimpse of what was a wonderful holiday.
With that said, its always good to come back to enjoy the fruits of this nation once again. I know I couldn't live in another country because I would just get homesick way too quickly. But now I'm back - ive been all too quick to moan about the weather and the usual grind at work, and all too quickly Cancun seems ever so tempting once more! One just can't win when it comes the old trip abroad.
One aspect which is even more frustrating however is jetlag. I read that for every time zone you have passed through, you can expect to feel the affects of jet lag for that same number in days. Cancun was six hours behind the UK, so I'm not really too thrilled about the prospect of a screwed up body clock for nearly a week!! All ready I get tired at the wrong times - like at tea time instead of night time and I find it hard to get to sleep at night. Here's hoping some good quality sleep tonight will put this madness to bed (excuse the pun).
Besides the jet lag, the holiday has offered some post-trip benefits. For example, after some time off in a different environment you come home a with renewed focus on things and a mind refreshed. Before leaving for Mexico I felt that I was becoming not only drained physically from working every day, but mentally also. It became hard to think things through rationally, with the day to day rountine becoming seemingly banal and leaving me with little time to reflect on what I want to do next. I guess after a while I felt like I couldn' really blog, because my brain was slowly turning to mush. But now I have taken chicken soul for my mind I am ready for more job applications and rejections over the upcoming festive season.
I would write more but the lag is kicking in now. Nite.
