Figgy's not-so-jolly Christmas post

Dear reader,


I don't understand why all those atheists out there who are so dead-set against Christianity and religion find it permissable to perpetuate the lie that is Santa Claus. I know I've made a similar statement before, but it just boggles my mind. I mean, their whole argument against religion is that it's a backward and illogical fantasy, a fairy tale that was concocted by some poor ignorant people as an explanation for things they didn't fully understand. And yet they don't mind letting the stupid "Santa Claus lives in the North Pole and delivers presents to every well-behaved child" myth to continue.

And when they meet people who actually believe in God, they either get riled up or annoyingly condescending. They teach their children that there is no such thing as God, but find it too heartless to say that Santa doesn't exist. It's just another substitute for religion. You've got this mysterious immortal, bearded being who lives in a distant, seemingly unattainable location, and who possesses supernatural abilities to reward all the good, obedient children around the world, and gives the bad children exactly what they deserve. Sound familiar?

I wonder if they know how inconsistent they're being. They substitute God with science, and religion with evolution. They cling to their Big Bang theory, pushing aside all other contradictory arguments in favour of their own, in the exact same way they accuse Christians of doing.

Perhaps I am being harsh, perhaps I am over-generalizing. Surely not everyone who doesn't believe in God are as narrow-minded as I make them out to be. I'm just frustrated with being called a liar or a fool for believing in a perfectly legitimate explanation for the creation of the Universe. I make it a point to never argue with anyone about religion. You can't--and shouldn't, in fact--try to change a person's convictions to suit your own. I mean, they've made up their minds. Nothing you say to them can change that. People are funny. They sneer and ridicule others for having a different lifestyle than theirs, or for not doing things the way they're supposed to. Everyone has a right to their own opinion, even if you don't agree with it.

Well. Enough of that, dear reader. That's the end of my rampage of a post. Happy holidays.




Yours,

Figgy the Believer

Beautifully Unconventional

Dear reader,



Have you ever noticed how singers and celebrities and models nowadays look like they were created and assembled in the same factory? I wonder what happened to society's standards of beauty. Today's ideal of beauty is about having the perfect figure, perfect hair, perfect teeth. It's all about the symmetry these days, it seems. Quirkiness is no longer appreciated. Or rather, only a certain degree of quirkiness is tolerated. Cross that line and you are no longer beautiful, just weird.

Gone are the years of tailored dresses, individuality, and original thought. This is the age of 'standard' clothing sizes (because all women are built in exactly the same proportions, am I right?), the age of conformity. Come on, people. We used to celebrate individuality. Being different was considered awesome and enviable. I mean, look at Mama Cass, or Aretha Franklin. They were unconventional beauties. They had talent, oodles of it, and that made them beautiful.

These days you hardly see any famous people who look like they're actually allowed to have a decent meal. Women like Queen Latifah. When she comes on screen, you just get this sense of calmness radiating off of her. Kate Winslet, also, is absolutely beautiful. She reminds me of those women in Renaissance paintings, with their gracefully provocative poses, and their fearless curviness.

So. The reason for this rant on society's shallow standards of beauty is a certain video on YouTube. Well, not so much the video itself than the comments posted on it. I'm sure you've heard of the singer Adele. And if you haven't, dear reader, then you should check her out immediately. After you read this post, though. Adele is one of the very few modern singers who can actually sing. She sounds better live than she does on her album, which is exactly how it should be. Anyway, all of her videos had some sort of derogatory comment about her weight, some critique on her appearance. All of them. Which is really unfair and, actually, totally irrelevant. Why so shallow, people? She makes music for ears, not for eyes. Anyway, as far as looks go, I think she's beautiful.

See what I mean? She reminds me of Audrey Hepburn. The way she moves, the way she dresses. Her casual, effortless elegance. Also, I like that she seems honest, and she has a sense of humour. People who can't laugh at themselves are so unapproachable and boring.

Oh, and on a completely unrelated note...if Sir Anthony Hopkins had a blog, I'd totally read it. I'd read it like nobody's business. He's an amazing, intelligent, interesting human being. He has Character. He's like a nihilistic, grouchy, zen monk.

So, I guess this is where I say goodbye. Just had something on my chest that I wanted to send out into the void. Til next time, I remain...






Yours,

Figgy

I stand open

Dear reader,






Sometimes I lose hope in the world and its capability of producing good music. I mean, there's the Click Five, the Jonas Brothers, Ke$ha, Lady Gaga, etc...but then, I stumble upon some real music, and my faith in humanity is restored once again.

Fan-made video, ngeh. Song is awesome though. And I love the Avett Brothers' sense of humour, it shines through their songs.

This song is what real music sounds like. This is what all musicians should aspire to be. I'm not exaggerating. Go and listen to this guy's songs, they will blow your mind.

Last but definitely not least. Such a soothing, meaningful song. This is one of those songs you can listen to whatever mood you're in. Because it's so honest and real...it can be happy, sad, or inspiring depending on what emotions you're feeling at that particular moment.

So. I suppose that's it, dear reader. Goodbye, and until next time.

Yours,

Figgy.

"Love all, serve all, create no sorrow."
      
          - Trevor Hall, 'Unity'

beautiful coincidences

i was his from the moment we first met

say what you say or just sail away

your lipstick stains

let me sail, let me sail

elope with me, miss private, and we’ll sail around the world

you're so good to me baby, baby

i'm through with standing in line

all who are weak, all who are weary

the beat goes on, the beat goes on

wake up, bloodshot eyes

i wanna be the minority

a heart that's full up like a landfill

i've been meaning to tell you

she took away all my money

baptised with a perfect name

let's start at the very beginning

jesus, jesus, jesus

while everybody else is getting out of bed

so if you're lonely

i can tell, i can tell how much you hate this

tell me how i'm supposed to breathe with no air

beautiful girls

remember all the things we wanted?

the night will come

So. What do you think, dear reader? Have I finally gone insane?


Do you know what ready-made art is? It is an "everyday object selected and designated as art; the name was coined by the French artist Marcel Duchamp." The term is also used to describe "art created from the undisguised, but often modified, use of objects that are not normally considered art, often because they already have a non-art function." 


What's that, dear reader? You don't care? Ah, but you should care. You see, the pathetic attempt at poetry you see above is my slightly skewed version of ready-made art. Out of sheer boredom and my inevitable tendencies towards procrastination, I decided to experiment. Here's what I did (look, it's a list!)...






The 'How to Procrastinate Like a Professional' List:

1. Have an assignment due, the sooner the better. Preferably within a two-day time period. You could try three days, but it wouldn't have the same impact.
2. Waste time on Internet. 
3. First attempt at getting some work done.
4. Waste some more time on Internet.
5. Give up on trying to get work done.
6. Go to Music folder.
7. Select all.
8. Press play. Shuffle.
9. Write first line of each song.
10. Compile into meaningless, beautiful nonsense.
11. Compose blog post focused entirely on said meaningless, beautiful nonsense.
12. Proofread til satisfied.

There you go. Figgy's patented procrastination formula. My favourite nonsense-poems are the 'standing in line' one and the last one. And what's with the sailing theme in the first and second stanzas? I didn't skip or rearrange any songs, I swear. I just wrote them down in the same order that they came up. Creepy. But in a good way. It's awesome when seemingly random and unrelated things come together to form something so perfect. Beautiful coincidences. Or ordinary miracles.

So, dear reader. Can you guess the songs these first verses belong to? I bet you can't. Well, some are more obvious than others. I enjoyed this little experiment. Expect more nonsense poetry in the future. Til then, I remain...










Yours,






Figgy.

Unscrew the Stars

Baby, I want you to roll me, hold me in your love
No more habits, promises and jive

I'm in an oldies mood today. But then again, when am I not in an oldies mood, right? Well, strictly speaking, I'm in an awesome eighties mood. I was just listening to Heart's Love Alive. Such a beautiful song, both the music and the lyrics. If every song in the entire world were even half as well-written as this one, the subsequent surge of awesomeness would probably result in World Peace. Fo' shizzle.

I mean, wow. Just wow. Can you dig it, dear reader? Can you feel the way the sound of the guitar just flows over you? And her voice, absolutely perfect. I love the way the drums pick up about halfway through, with that awesome twangy, strummy guitar joining in. Now that is music, people. I could listen to this all day and not get tired of it.

I think if you manage to discover something new in a song or a piece of music every time you listen to it, then that's good music. Deep, you know. With layers and substance and wit.

Oh, and in totally unrelated news: I like stars. You know how certain objects or animals or whatever mean different things to different people? Stars are like that, they're special to me. Okay. So you know I'm Christian, right? If you don't, well...now you do. There's this part in the Old Testament where God and Abraham are having a heart-to-heart. It's where the Big Guy makes His famous 'generation promises', as I like to call them.

Genesis 22:17

indeed I will greatly bless you, and I will greatly multiply your seed as the stars of the heavens and as the sand which is on the seashore; and your seed shall possess the gate of their enemies.

As a Christian, I am a 'descendant' of Abraham. So basically, I am part of the 'star' generation. The Star Seed, if you will. Sounds like a clan of kick-ass comic book mutants, or an ancient tribe of superhuman warriors doesn't it?

Okay, not really what I had in mind. Moving on.

Also. Whenever I think of stars, I think of:

I am a lady from Mars,

And I can unscrew the stars.

I can be anything that I see.

I can be anything that I, anything that I see.

          - Ingrid Michaelson, Lady in Spain

Yeah. My head is a pretty haphazard place. Filled to the brim with anecdotes about stars and things of a similar epic nature--no doubt--but riddled with detours and labyrinths and winding pathways leading to Who Knows Where. Also known as The Land of the Endless Synonyms. Vocabulary Valley. Dictionary Dunes. Thesaurus Trail. Oooh, extra points for my snazzy alliteration. Oh, yes, dear reader. I just used the word snazzy in a sentence.

Okay. So that's it from me for today. Til next time, I remain etc, etc...

Optical allusions

Dear reader,



How goes things? Been a while, hasn't it? I've been so busy recently. Assignments and things, you know. I've actually been trying to write a post for a while. I'd log on, intent on composing a mind-numbingly awesome post, but in the end I just end up staring at the screen for a few minutes--at the blinking bar thingy--then give up and move on to something else because my ideas weren't flowing fast enough, and I was too impatient to wait for them.

I love haikus. Yeah, I know. I pride myself on my segues. (I had to Google search that to make sure I spelt it right, heh) I like the imagery of them. They're more than poems, they're pictures painted with words, optical allusions. So I had this project, right. We selected a randomly-generated haiku, choose five keywords, then take pictures according to those keywords in a specific venue. Kind of like defining the place through the haiku.

So anyway, I've been mildly obsessed with them lately. I've been seeing haikus in everything. I'd say or think something, then mentally count the syllables. I've discovered I usually think in statements of 5 syllables, and only very rarely in 7. It's a strange thing.

My favourite random haiku generator is this one. I don't know why, they seem a little less random than the other sites I've been to. For example...

Torrid little tale.

Another jukebox baby.

Rattlesnake rain drops.

Shoe polish lipstick.

Get lynched by the Amish folk.

Dionysus dreams.

Lost America.

Radiating blissful rain.

Low breathtaking soft.

Tattoos are for punks.

No hangover tomorrow.

Deer in the headlights.

See? It's like 17 syllables of pure, unadulterated awesomeness.

I've been so infatuated with them that I've even composed a few myself. Well, partially composed. I saw this one 7-liner in a random haiku, and it got me thinking. This is what I came up with:

Technicolour thoughts.

Steam swelling from her language.

Silent anarchist.

Try and figure that one out, dear reader. Though it's pretty straightforward for a haiku. Oh, I have another one.

Your stars are shooting.

Optical allusions, ink.

Your hearts are bleeding.

That was actually a collaboration. The story behind its creation is pretty interesting. My friend and I were sitting in the cafeteria. It was a hot, sunny, lazy afternoon. I was drawing on myself, on my wrist. Just because, you know, I thought it'd be cool to draw something on my wrist. So I drew some stars, just a mini-constellation type of thing. It looked kind of boring, so I proceeded to smudge the ink, turning my stars into meteors. My friend was doing the same thing; she has a hearts-and-flowers tattoo on her wrist, and she was inking the hearts and smudging them, making it look like they were dripping.

So she turned to me and said, in a manner-of-fact way, "Your stars are shooting."

To which I replied, "Your hearts are bleeding."

We were quiet for a while, until I said, "That could be a haiku. The first and last lines."

And there you have it. The story behind the haiku.

Speaking of optical allusions--and yes, it's supposed to be allusions, not illusions--one of my lecturers advised us to publish our work via our blogs, because it gives us a way of compiling all of our stuff, a portfolio of sorts. He asked us how many of us actually blog regularly, and I kept quiet. I mean, psshh, like I'd actually let my lecturer visit my blog. That particular lecturer, anyway. So I've been thinking, should I make a new one? One devoted solely to my designy/artsy stuff? I have the name figured out already, you see. I want to call it, yup you guessed it, 'Optical Allusions'. What do you think, dear reader? Should I, or shouldn't I?

And with that, I abruptly take my leave. Sorry to blog and run, dear reader, but if you've noticed, it's 3 a.m. as I'm typing this. I should probably squeeze in 4 hours of sleep before I have to get ready for school. See you when I see you, dear reader.




Yours,





Figgy the Haiku Nerd

Melancholy

Dear reader,


Today's music has no soul. I mean, sure, musical instruments and the musicians who play them are getting better and better each year, but it's like they focus so much on getting the song to sound cool that they've forgotten to add a little soul in it. That's why I love oldies and indie music so much. With old music, they didn't have the technology we had, so they focused on their lyrics and their voices, and the emotions their songs conveyed; they focused on the message. As for indie music, well...it's the simplicity of their songs, you know. They manage to keep it real; they create good, honest music without all the unnecessary bells and whistles (pun totally intended).

I've been feeling melancholy all day. You know the word 'melancholy' is defined as 'a feeling of thoughtful sadness'. Funny how something as prosaic and dry as a dictionary can manage to sound downright poetic. Anyway. I thought I'd spread the thoughtful sadness around, while simultaneously sharing some soulful music for a change. Oh, don't worry, dear reader. Just because I'm thoughtfully sad, it doesn't mean I'll go all emo on you. Incidentally, am I the only one who finds Simple Plan whiny? Poor me, poor me, I'm so sad and lonely cause nobody understands me or sees me for who I really am. Seriously. Switch to decaf and shut up already.

Yeah. Sorry about the rambling, I'm in a rambling kind of mood. So, let's get down to the music.

I love this song. I just go all starry-eyed and quiet when I listen to it. It just gets to me, you know? I know, I know, I know, I know, I know...

Ah, yes. My sister doesn't get why I like this song so much, she says it's boring. But I think it's quaint and innocent and heartfelt. And I'm just digging the folksy vibe, man.

Okay, so that last one is neither oldie nor indie. Indian, yeah, but not indie. I just thought I'd include it because it's so simple and so beautiful: beautifully simple, or simply beautiful. Take your pick.

So, um, yeah. That's all I got. I'm gonna go now. Okay? Okay.

Bye.

Yours,

Figgy the Thoughfully Sad