It has long been accepted that, in the never-ending procession of defence mechanisms that mankind inevitably carts out one after the other, humour is one of the most present, one of the most human and one of the most controversial. Whether you're consciously constructing a joke to calm your nerves or momentarily lose control and blurt out laughing at a sad story, there will always be someone ready to slate you for doing so and someone gratefully commending you.
Stand-Up Comedy, a practice revolving entirely around the art of making people laugh and entertaining them, doesn't necessarily seem like the most natural choice of vehicle with which to express sadness, depression or fear. Indeed, not all, but most of the comedians we see on television are of the 'poking fun, buying into stereotypes and exuding cheerful charisma' variety. But step into a comedy club and you'll see humour being used to delve into the psyches of these performers who have entered a profession stereotypically famed for attracting 'damaged' people.
Stewart Lee (famed for co-creating hit musical Jerry Springer the Opera) is known for his angry tirades about...well, about pretty much anything. For example, talking about TV programme Top Gear, he easily explains away Jeremy Clarkson as someone with 'outrageous, politically incorrect opinions which he has for money'! Andre Vincent and Dr. Oliver Double both created stand-up shows that deal with health problems, the former's battle with cancer (Andre Vincent is Unwell) and the latter's experience of his two sons having diabetes (Oliver Double in Saint Pancreas). In a moving documentary Conflict Revolution, comedian Andrew Maxwell uses humour to try to bring two warring Irish neighbourhoods together with the tag line 'Can laughter unite what religion and politics divides?'
Even outside of the comedy sphere humour is used daily by all sorts of people to help defend against fear, melancholy or worse. I remember standing by my father's hospital bed when he had a heart attack and joking about him looking like a turkey in his heat protective clothing and him not wanting to leave the hospital because he fancied all the pretty nurses. I knew a very shy, socially awkward boy at university who suddenly came out of his shell to present a play he'd written about how he used humour to try to mask his shyness. In Howard Jacobson's novel 'The Finkler Question' he says of a dying wife lying in bed next to her husband 'she could look deep into his eyes, beckon him to her and whisper what he thought would be a fond memory into his ear, but which turned out to be a raucous allusion, an obscenity even. She wanted him to laugh, because they had laughed so often together. He had made her laugh at the beginning. Laughter had been his most precious gift to her. And now she wanted laughter to be her final gift to him'.
I embrace humour with my whole being. For me, it's one of the most inspiring and natural comforts I can hope for. There is, however, a fine line between the kind of humour as defence that I condone and another, far less tasteful, type. While it's impossible to find a universal line to draw, recently my personal boundaries have been so pushed that my acceptance of 'humour as a defence mechanism' has been sorely tried.
In the past two weeks alone we, as a country, as a world, have been inundated with catastrophe. There is famine in Somalia, massacre in Norway, economic difficulties and we still have wars raging left, right and centre. We've always fallen back on humorous newspaper headlines (thanks mainly to The Sun), television political comedy programmes and, nowadays, facebook and twitter updates. This 'chin up' culture is, and has always been, a major part of the British attitude. But what about when gentle joking turns into spiteful jibes? Is this still an acceptable response to tragedy, or have we lost our compassion as a people? I leave with you a selection of these 'jokes' and let you decide for yourselves. Who knows...maybe I'm just a tad touchier than others.
For example:
DEATH OF AMY WINEHOUSE
Brazilian comedians have made a mockery of mourners at Amy Winehouse’s funeral Tuesday, as they cried crocodile tears to infiltrate the private event in London reserved exclusively for family and close friends of the famous singer.Two Brazilian comics, Daniel Zukerman and Andre Machado, who work on a Brazilian comedy TV show called Panico na TV (Panic on the TV), were seen posing as friends of Winehouse...The tasteless stunt included the two comics giving comments to German broadcaster RTL, and they could be seen smirking on the verge of laughter as they told the interviewer: “Amy changed the world. We lost a friend, the greatest singer. It is difficult to explain how we feel.”
In honour of Amy Winehouse, we shall all be doing 15 lines in the pub toilets, tonight!
It seems that this is the end of the line for Ms. Winehouse.
Elton John will perform at Amy Winehouse’s funeral with a beautiful rendition of Candle Under The Spoon.
Before telling such sick and abusive jokes about Amy Winehouse, think about her poor close friends. Imagine how they’ll feel on Thursday, when they finally come round and find out.
NORWAY MASSACRE
I want to go to Norway, I heard its the bomb. Mate went there last year but she just shot through. Utoya Island must be a great place. People are dying to be there.
DISAPPEARANCE OF MADELINE MCCANN
'Patrick Kielty joked that if the McCanns wanted to dispose of the body of their daughter, they should have checked her in as luggage on a Ryanair flight. He added that the couple had been backstage but had disappeared two hours later when he went to check on them. The sick comments prompted members of the audience to get up and leave the show.' (Sept, (2007), Dailymail.co.uk)
HOLOCAUST
'Trouble is with Holocaust films is there’s never any gag reel on the DVDs,’ (Ricky Gervais, (2009), Golden Globe Awards, dailymail.co.uk)
COMEDIAN LINKS
http://disappointingchildren.com/2011/07/stewart-lee-angry/
http://www.chortle.co.uk/shows/edinburgh_fringe_2002/a/635/andre_vincent_is_unwell
http://www.diabeticinfo.co.uk/#/oliver-double-diabetes/4526898630
Showing posts with label Blogilicious. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blogilicious. Show all posts
Monday, August 1, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Sometimes journalism sucks
When I was little I wanted to be a journalist so badly. I saw myself out there with my notebook and dictaphone, hunting out stories in crime-ridden areas, at celebrity bashes and on the streets of London, talking to the people affected by the big stories face to face. I wanted to be rushing against the clock to meet my deadline and then to wake up on Sunday mornings and see my byline in the national press. That's what I wanted.
And then I learnt what journalism was really all about. It was about constantly and aggressively bugging people who have just lost their friends, family or livelihood, forcing them to talk and, if they don't, scraping together a blend of fact and fiction from an uninspiring group of 'sources close to the subject'. It's, according to what's going on in our world today, about hacking into people's telephones and broadcasting their private lives to all and sundry. It's about pretending to listen to an interview you're given but then chopping and changing the text until it bears no resemblance to the original discussion, but plenty to the angle you're trying to take. It's also about hiding behind bushes and buildings, trying to take that photograph that could ruin someone's career, relationship or image.
When I was younger I thought journalism was about getting the story down on paper to share with the public. Now I'm not so sure. I think that it's about influencing and affecting the story, in much the same way that script writers influence the trajectory of a 'reality' television show. By creating situations to so aggressively extract information, I feel that journalists are starting to create, rather than just report, the stories of the time.
In light of the recent journalistic scandals, there have been a large amount of articles written by editors to claim that none of their journalists EVER break the law to get a story. And although I'm sure this isn't true 100% of the time, we must admit that Rupert Murdoch, Rebekah Brooks, the Notw et al. aren't exactly 'getting away with it' this time. So, perhaps we're lucky in the sense that the Bureau of Investigative Journalism is looking out for us.
But, regardless of law-breaking or not, there is still plenty that's considered 'legal' if not 'moral' that journalists do to in order to get their story. I've seen plenty of situations where paparazzi are seen trying to push their way into the building of a recently bereaved family or a heartbroken new divorcee. However, the story that really hit home for me this week was the death of Amy Winehouse.
The Daily Mail released their first online report within two hours of her body behind found. It outlined the fact that she was confirmed dead, the time at which this occurred and that her body had been removed from the flat. It also included the fact that, as he was on a plane to New York, it was likely that her father had not been informed. WHAT? So the newspapers know, and are free to report, the unexpected death of a 27 year old celebrity. Outpourings of grief and tributes quickly follow on facebook and twitter, but her father hasn't been notified? I don't know whether this is legal or not. But I do know it's disgusting. Business is one thing, getting the story out there first is all important for today's journalists and papers, and yes Amy Winehouse was a celebrity but come on!
The sentence 'it's not yet clear whether her father Mitch has been notified' has since been removed from the article, and it's been suggested that her parents knew immediately. Frankly, I don't wish to dither about finding out which is true. The Daily Mail did not know for certain whether her parents had been notified, and they ran the story anyway. That's all I need to know.
And then I learnt what journalism was really all about. It was about constantly and aggressively bugging people who have just lost their friends, family or livelihood, forcing them to talk and, if they don't, scraping together a blend of fact and fiction from an uninspiring group of 'sources close to the subject'. It's, according to what's going on in our world today, about hacking into people's telephones and broadcasting their private lives to all and sundry. It's about pretending to listen to an interview you're given but then chopping and changing the text until it bears no resemblance to the original discussion, but plenty to the angle you're trying to take. It's also about hiding behind bushes and buildings, trying to take that photograph that could ruin someone's career, relationship or image.
When I was younger I thought journalism was about getting the story down on paper to share with the public. Now I'm not so sure. I think that it's about influencing and affecting the story, in much the same way that script writers influence the trajectory of a 'reality' television show. By creating situations to so aggressively extract information, I feel that journalists are starting to create, rather than just report, the stories of the time.
In light of the recent journalistic scandals, there have been a large amount of articles written by editors to claim that none of their journalists EVER break the law to get a story. And although I'm sure this isn't true 100% of the time, we must admit that Rupert Murdoch, Rebekah Brooks, the Notw et al. aren't exactly 'getting away with it' this time. So, perhaps we're lucky in the sense that the Bureau of Investigative Journalism is looking out for us.
But, regardless of law-breaking or not, there is still plenty that's considered 'legal' if not 'moral' that journalists do to in order to get their story. I've seen plenty of situations where paparazzi are seen trying to push their way into the building of a recently bereaved family or a heartbroken new divorcee. However, the story that really hit home for me this week was the death of Amy Winehouse.
The Daily Mail released their first online report within two hours of her body behind found. It outlined the fact that she was confirmed dead, the time at which this occurred and that her body had been removed from the flat. It also included the fact that, as he was on a plane to New York, it was likely that her father had not been informed. WHAT? So the newspapers know, and are free to report, the unexpected death of a 27 year old celebrity. Outpourings of grief and tributes quickly follow on facebook and twitter, but her father hasn't been notified? I don't know whether this is legal or not. But I do know it's disgusting. Business is one thing, getting the story out there first is all important for today's journalists and papers, and yes Amy Winehouse was a celebrity but come on!
The sentence 'it's not yet clear whether her father Mitch has been notified' has since been removed from the article, and it's been suggested that her parents knew immediately. Frankly, I don't wish to dither about finding out which is true. The Daily Mail did not know for certain whether her parents had been notified, and they ran the story anyway. That's all I need to know.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Oh to be a boy.
I'm a terrible girl.
The majority of my friends, family, acquaintances, you name it...will tell you that. I have little to no concept of fashion, I abhore shopping and I consider my money wasted when I buy clothes and toiletries as opposed to the much happier purchases of theatre tickets, rose wine and coffee. I very rarely get through a conversation without realising that my mother has spent the majority of the time staring at whatever part of me she feels I've neglected (e.g. usually the eyebrows, she's oddly excited by the opportunity to pluck eyebrows) before catapulting me into the bathroom or making an appointment with whatever hairdresser/spa/whatnot she feels would be suitable for what she has deemed my biggest imperfection of the day. When I walk through a door, my fairly-fashionista sister (at least relatively so) is most likely to take one look at what I'm wearing, my make up or hair, and let out a big, put-upon sigh before imploring me to up my game and putting forward some suggestions for improvement. On the rare occassion I get it right she almost passes out from shock or glee...I can never quite tell which.
Appearance aside, there are a lot of other sections of my life where I feel I fall short of the expected role of 'woman' or 'girl'. It's not that I don't feel like I'm attractive, or feminine...it's not that I don't want to date men. It's not that I'm unable to create close friendships with women - I have some very close female friends whom I wouldn't trade in for the world. But, I have to say that these woman are the exception. In general, I have always identified with and felt more comfortable around men.
In this I'm not referring to anything romantic, sexual or along that vein. I mean more in the realms of friendship. I tend to prefer the high octane atmosphere that surrounds boys of all ages. Babysitting little boys is always a much tougher job than caring for girls---but generally the running madly about, trying to herd multiple kids in one direction and dodging physical attacks from all corners presents a challenge and a diversion from my natural mindset that I'm grateful for. Hanging out with my Dad we engage in such activities as martial arts or watching comedy or...eating...alot. I love the straightforwardness of men - the way that a niggling issue can be sorted in one fell swoop with a fit of yelling or a clash of fists (not that I condone fighting per se but...I'm just saying...sometimes it works...). I'm quite capable of joining in with girly gossip and tactics, but a few days of it tends to leave me exhausted. I chose to live -and did so happily- in a house of five men, because I appreciated the almost complete lack of tension around me...the knowledge that if someone had an issue with me they'd bring it up was liberating. I love how insults thrown by men at each other are meant to shock or drive someone to action, not to maim and undermine the way I feel women so often use them. I don't care about guys being disgusting -within reason I suppose- or being messy or talking rudely...if it's within what I deem natural rather than a falsified attempt to look 'manly', again I'm thrilled at the lack of pretence, the stripped down quality of the male personality. I envy a man's dedication to whatever he's doing at that precise moment - I resent the expectation that a woman can multitask, and the stark reality that what we actually do is divide our attention, worrying about intricacies that rarely exist, fluttering about different thoughts and options, and thus deny ourselves the simple, complete pleasure, satisfaction or interest in a current activity that men so naturally possess.
But, more than anything else, I am desperately jealous of the relationship men create with other men. I so often hear men complaining that they can't talk amongst themselves as women do and, while I think this is perhaps true, I am still in awe of the bond that men have. Whether it's as simple as the old 'bros before hoes' or the understanding that you'll be there in your friend's time of need, I think men have a base, instinctive honour scheme that I want to be part of.
Men can do all number of annoying, unfair or plain nasty things to each other but, when necessary, can shrug them off and go back to basics. I see the way all my close female friends have coupled off recently, how they've become an addition to another person who will always come before me, and I sense the part of our honest, open, girly relationship that has suddenly dispersed. Men -not so much. Girlfriends, wifes, lovers can come and go...obviously secrets will be kept, new lives built...but I adore the way that the majority (not all) of men keep themselves whole. They'll choose an afternoon with their friends sans girlfriend so much more often than vice versa occurring.
And this is where I'm lost.
For the majority of the time -at least in our part of the world where the gender specifications are not as strict as they once were- there's nothing frowned upon by preferring the company of boys. But, every now and then I realise my happy little group have remembered I'm a girl and that, for once, they wish I'd stick my job description. It might be that they feel they've gone a joke too far, they want to play Nazi Zombies without hearing a squeal from the corner, or simply that a new man has appeared who they fear might not be as fond of me disrupting the hormonal balance of a day, an evening, a weekend. Hey, they might simply fancy a girl-free day and despite the fact that I'm not considered a romantic/sexual option for them, I'm still a girl...and suddenly I've lost out on every front. And I'm expected to toddle off to spend time with the women (e.g. all these guys' girlfriends) - an expectation I've always resented regardless of whether it's my friends or my boyfriends pushing me off to do this.
And on my side...well sometimes it's me that snaps out of the situation. Sometimes I see the way men behave towards each other - the animalistic side that so often comes out, the flip way that they'll abandon a drunken or depressed friend expecting him to 'snap out of it'. Or watching them make their way through a variety of ladies- not stopping to consider their emotions or issues- listening to the disgusting phrases with which they refer to their latest conquests.
But the biggest issue comes, naturally, when I fall in love. And then, when my male friends can stand aside and allow my heart to be trampled on with the same indifference they show to all the other women they or their friends get involved with, I suddenly fall out of my idealised vision of the male relationship and lean back towards the fawning arms of my female friends, waiting there with the right combination of platitudes and Ben & Jerry's to temporarily ease my pain and save my ego. But two days in I'll be tired out with talking and crying and I'll head back towards my merry band of men, hoping against hope they'll pretend I never defected, and will welcome me back with open arms and a bottle of beer. I might even try Nazi Zombies. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
The majority of my friends, family, acquaintances, you name it...will tell you that. I have little to no concept of fashion, I abhore shopping and I consider my money wasted when I buy clothes and toiletries as opposed to the much happier purchases of theatre tickets, rose wine and coffee. I very rarely get through a conversation without realising that my mother has spent the majority of the time staring at whatever part of me she feels I've neglected (e.g. usually the eyebrows, she's oddly excited by the opportunity to pluck eyebrows) before catapulting me into the bathroom or making an appointment with whatever hairdresser/spa/whatnot she feels would be suitable for what she has deemed my biggest imperfection of the day. When I walk through a door, my fairly-fashionista sister (at least relatively so) is most likely to take one look at what I'm wearing, my make up or hair, and let out a big, put-upon sigh before imploring me to up my game and putting forward some suggestions for improvement. On the rare occassion I get it right she almost passes out from shock or glee...I can never quite tell which.
Appearance aside, there are a lot of other sections of my life where I feel I fall short of the expected role of 'woman' or 'girl'. It's not that I don't feel like I'm attractive, or feminine...it's not that I don't want to date men. It's not that I'm unable to create close friendships with women - I have some very close female friends whom I wouldn't trade in for the world. But, I have to say that these woman are the exception. In general, I have always identified with and felt more comfortable around men.
In this I'm not referring to anything romantic, sexual or along that vein. I mean more in the realms of friendship. I tend to prefer the high octane atmosphere that surrounds boys of all ages. Babysitting little boys is always a much tougher job than caring for girls---but generally the running madly about, trying to herd multiple kids in one direction and dodging physical attacks from all corners presents a challenge and a diversion from my natural mindset that I'm grateful for. Hanging out with my Dad we engage in such activities as martial arts or watching comedy or...eating...alot. I love the straightforwardness of men - the way that a niggling issue can be sorted in one fell swoop with a fit of yelling or a clash of fists (not that I condone fighting per se but...I'm just saying...sometimes it works...). I'm quite capable of joining in with girly gossip and tactics, but a few days of it tends to leave me exhausted. I chose to live -and did so happily- in a house of five men, because I appreciated the almost complete lack of tension around me...the knowledge that if someone had an issue with me they'd bring it up was liberating. I love how insults thrown by men at each other are meant to shock or drive someone to action, not to maim and undermine the way I feel women so often use them. I don't care about guys being disgusting -within reason I suppose- or being messy or talking rudely...if it's within what I deem natural rather than a falsified attempt to look 'manly', again I'm thrilled at the lack of pretence, the stripped down quality of the male personality. I envy a man's dedication to whatever he's doing at that precise moment - I resent the expectation that a woman can multitask, and the stark reality that what we actually do is divide our attention, worrying about intricacies that rarely exist, fluttering about different thoughts and options, and thus deny ourselves the simple, complete pleasure, satisfaction or interest in a current activity that men so naturally possess.
But, more than anything else, I am desperately jealous of the relationship men create with other men. I so often hear men complaining that they can't talk amongst themselves as women do and, while I think this is perhaps true, I am still in awe of the bond that men have. Whether it's as simple as the old 'bros before hoes' or the understanding that you'll be there in your friend's time of need, I think men have a base, instinctive honour scheme that I want to be part of.
Men can do all number of annoying, unfair or plain nasty things to each other but, when necessary, can shrug them off and go back to basics. I see the way all my close female friends have coupled off recently, how they've become an addition to another person who will always come before me, and I sense the part of our honest, open, girly relationship that has suddenly dispersed. Men -not so much. Girlfriends, wifes, lovers can come and go...obviously secrets will be kept, new lives built...but I adore the way that the majority (not all) of men keep themselves whole. They'll choose an afternoon with their friends sans girlfriend so much more often than vice versa occurring.
And this is where I'm lost.
For the majority of the time -at least in our part of the world where the gender specifications are not as strict as they once were- there's nothing frowned upon by preferring the company of boys. But, every now and then I realise my happy little group have remembered I'm a girl and that, for once, they wish I'd stick my job description. It might be that they feel they've gone a joke too far, they want to play Nazi Zombies without hearing a squeal from the corner, or simply that a new man has appeared who they fear might not be as fond of me disrupting the hormonal balance of a day, an evening, a weekend. Hey, they might simply fancy a girl-free day and despite the fact that I'm not considered a romantic/sexual option for them, I'm still a girl...and suddenly I've lost out on every front. And I'm expected to toddle off to spend time with the women (e.g. all these guys' girlfriends) - an expectation I've always resented regardless of whether it's my friends or my boyfriends pushing me off to do this.
And on my side...well sometimes it's me that snaps out of the situation. Sometimes I see the way men behave towards each other - the animalistic side that so often comes out, the flip way that they'll abandon a drunken or depressed friend expecting him to 'snap out of it'. Or watching them make their way through a variety of ladies- not stopping to consider their emotions or issues- listening to the disgusting phrases with which they refer to their latest conquests.
But the biggest issue comes, naturally, when I fall in love. And then, when my male friends can stand aside and allow my heart to be trampled on with the same indifference they show to all the other women they or their friends get involved with, I suddenly fall out of my idealised vision of the male relationship and lean back towards the fawning arms of my female friends, waiting there with the right combination of platitudes and Ben & Jerry's to temporarily ease my pain and save my ego. But two days in I'll be tired out with talking and crying and I'll head back towards my merry band of men, hoping against hope they'll pretend I never defected, and will welcome me back with open arms and a bottle of beer. I might even try Nazi Zombies. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Technophobe at 24?
Two days ago I wrote a rant regarding my decrepit computer and the fear I feel regarding the importance it holds in getting me where I want and need to be careerwise. I'm actually normally very fond of technology in general: be it the phone, computers, internet or whatnot. Very fond indeed...I am at one with technology...I'm partial to some time online. Okay I'll come clean to you. I am occasionally obsessive about the internet. I'm not ashamed. Well I am but...admitting you have a problem is the first step to curing it right? Look...it's handy to quickly access the computer's built-in dictionary or calculator when I'm working, and it's a secret pleasure to read hilarious 'texts gone wrong' on DYAC, I'm thrilled all my favourite TV shows are stored neatly online waiting for me to develop the urge for a viewing or that Facebook is ready and waiting when I...y'know...see something or maybe feel an emotion. Yes my phone rarely leaves my side (except, I'm told by friends and family, when someone might actually want to contact me) and...OKAY ENOUGH...I have an addictive personality, the internet buys into that and I have happily sat back and allowed myself to be taken entirely in thrall.
I'm aware of the drawbacks of technology. I know that the internet harbours the sort of anonymous connectivity to others that has resulted in the rise of crime, paedophilia, deception...I know that people say things in text they wouldn't in person, and that our constant attachment to our mobile phones is making us less and less social. Yes I can sense the harmful electrical waves around us, our dependency on sat navs, our inability to spell words without Microsoft Word pointing out our mistakes and I have personally seen attention spans and memory capabilities turn to mush.
But at 24 years old and constantly thrilled by the novelty and expansiveness of technology, aware of it's importance in my potential future successes and dependent on Skype to keep in touch with family and friends when I'm travelling, it's none of the above drawbacks that have finally made me snap.
So what has?
ONLINE BLEEPING BANKING.
Oh and...as a necessary follow up...TELEPHONE BLEEDING BANKING.
What I once -in my moonlit youth- considered a lifesaving, timesaving, fault-free example of the human race's modern advances in science and technology, I now see -in broad daylight- in all it's slimy, repulsive, bureaucratic, money saving reality.
Previously I thought...thankyou bank for allowing me to check my balance when I'm nowhere near an ATM. Thankyou bank for making sure I can shift money to other people and receive money back without going anywhere near your drab, person-filled building on the million pounds per hour pay and displayed high road. Oh the abandonment with with I collected peoples' online banking account numbers and sort codes. If I wrote them on individual post it notes I might even be able to wallpaper my entire bedroom.
But all these wonders -and more- have paled into dire insignificance when I realised that our banks just can't follow through on their promises.
TUESDAY JUNE 14TH:
Sound of a telephone ringing. It's me. Ringing the bank.
BANK: Hello, Bank speaking. How can I help you.
ME: Hello Bank. May I speak to an actual person please?
BANK: No Lucy. The machine will suffice.
ME: Hello Bank Machine. You do indeed seem well trained in the Bank's modus operandi so I...
BANK: Press 1 if you want to open a new account. Press 2 if you want to report a card lost or st...
I pressed 2.
BANK: You have pressed 2.
ME: Yes I have.
BANK: I'm sorry. I didn't quite under...
ME: Don't worry. 2 it is.
BANK: Please enter your sort code.
Sort Code entered.
BANK: Please enter your account number.
Account Number entered.
BANK: Please enter your date of birth. For example if you were born on the...
Date of Birth entered.
BANK: Please enter digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number.
Digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number entered. Or so I thought.
BANK: Incorrect. Now enter digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number.
Digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number entered.
BANK: Incorrect. For your own safety we have now disabled your security number.
For my own safety? I have now spoken to SIX people at the bank. They each spoke a different mother tongue. None of these were english. They asked me vague questions. For example: What is a memorable place for you? What is a name you know? I swear these were not the security questions I put in place. I know a ton of names. I know a lot of memorable places. Under duress the lady said 'For example: Where were you born'. I told her the truth. London. 'Incorrect' she said. A man asked me how long I had been banking with them. 'A long time,' I told him. 'How long' he said. I didn't know. My parents opened my first account years ago. At least seven I told him...since I was very young. 'You have failed our security measures' he told me. 'I can either post you a form to fill in or you can go to the bank'.
WHAT? I CAN GO TO THE BANK? HOW KIND OF YOU. And until I go to the bank what? Oh I'll have no debit card and no access to online or telephone banking whatsoever. So what you're saying is that I now need to drop everything and go to the bank? What if I was out of the country? What if I was uh...housebound. Why offer online and telephone banking if you can't follow through when something goes wrong? If it's online MAKE IT ONLINE. If it's telephone MAKE IT ON THE PHONE. So please Mr. Bank tell me at what point I will be able to make a trip to the bank tomorrow to change my code, order my new debit card and transfer money into my account before my phone bill payment goes through and puts me into overdraft. Will I get there in time? No, probably not. Will you charge me an overdraft fee...yes of course you will. Is it my fault for having fat fingers that have probably touched two numbers at once, thus causing all this trouble. Of course it's my fault. You know BANK, if you'd just let me talk to a real person when we started this conversation NONE OF THIS WOULD'VE HAPPENED.
I'm aware of the drawbacks of technology. I know that the internet harbours the sort of anonymous connectivity to others that has resulted in the rise of crime, paedophilia, deception...I know that people say things in text they wouldn't in person, and that our constant attachment to our mobile phones is making us less and less social. Yes I can sense the harmful electrical waves around us, our dependency on sat navs, our inability to spell words without Microsoft Word pointing out our mistakes and I have personally seen attention spans and memory capabilities turn to mush.
But at 24 years old and constantly thrilled by the novelty and expansiveness of technology, aware of it's importance in my potential future successes and dependent on Skype to keep in touch with family and friends when I'm travelling, it's none of the above drawbacks that have finally made me snap.
So what has?
ONLINE BLEEPING BANKING.
Oh and...as a necessary follow up...TELEPHONE BLEEDING BANKING.
What I once -in my moonlit youth- considered a lifesaving, timesaving, fault-free example of the human race's modern advances in science and technology, I now see -in broad daylight- in all it's slimy, repulsive, bureaucratic, money saving reality.
Previously I thought...thankyou bank for allowing me to check my balance when I'm nowhere near an ATM. Thankyou bank for making sure I can shift money to other people and receive money back without going anywhere near your drab, person-filled building on the million pounds per hour pay and displayed high road. Oh the abandonment with with I collected peoples' online banking account numbers and sort codes. If I wrote them on individual post it notes I might even be able to wallpaper my entire bedroom.
But all these wonders -and more- have paled into dire insignificance when I realised that our banks just can't follow through on their promises.
TUESDAY JUNE 14TH:
Sound of a telephone ringing. It's me. Ringing the bank.
BANK: Hello, Bank speaking. How can I help you.
ME: Hello Bank. May I speak to an actual person please?
BANK: No Lucy. The machine will suffice.
ME: Hello Bank Machine. You do indeed seem well trained in the Bank's modus operandi so I...
BANK: Press 1 if you want to open a new account. Press 2 if you want to report a card lost or st...
I pressed 2.
BANK: You have pressed 2.
ME: Yes I have.
BANK: I'm sorry. I didn't quite under...
ME: Don't worry. 2 it is.
BANK: Please enter your sort code.
Sort Code entered.
BANK: Please enter your account number.
Account Number entered.
BANK: Please enter your date of birth. For example if you were born on the...
Date of Birth entered.
BANK: Please enter digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number.
Digits 1, 2 and 4 of your security number entered. Or so I thought.
BANK: Incorrect. Now enter digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number.
Digits 3, 5 and 7 of your security number entered.
BANK: Incorrect. For your own safety we have now disabled your security number.
For my own safety? I have now spoken to SIX people at the bank. They each spoke a different mother tongue. None of these were english. They asked me vague questions. For example: What is a memorable place for you? What is a name you know? I swear these were not the security questions I put in place. I know a ton of names. I know a lot of memorable places. Under duress the lady said 'For example: Where were you born'. I told her the truth. London. 'Incorrect' she said. A man asked me how long I had been banking with them. 'A long time,' I told him. 'How long' he said. I didn't know. My parents opened my first account years ago. At least seven I told him...since I was very young. 'You have failed our security measures' he told me. 'I can either post you a form to fill in or you can go to the bank'.
WHAT? I CAN GO TO THE BANK? HOW KIND OF YOU. And until I go to the bank what? Oh I'll have no debit card and no access to online or telephone banking whatsoever. So what you're saying is that I now need to drop everything and go to the bank? What if I was out of the country? What if I was uh...housebound. Why offer online and telephone banking if you can't follow through when something goes wrong? If it's online MAKE IT ONLINE. If it's telephone MAKE IT ON THE PHONE. So please Mr. Bank tell me at what point I will be able to make a trip to the bank tomorrow to change my code, order my new debit card and transfer money into my account before my phone bill payment goes through and puts me into overdraft. Will I get there in time? No, probably not. Will you charge me an overdraft fee...yes of course you will. Is it my fault for having fat fingers that have probably touched two numbers at once, thus causing all this trouble. Of course it's my fault. You know BANK, if you'd just let me talk to a real person when we started this conversation NONE OF THIS WOULD'VE HAPPENED.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
My Head
It's getting more and more widespread. Everyone from your secondary school student to your bank clerk seems to be doing it. Some people start early in the morning, others do it from their smart phones (though heavens knows how on those tiny screens and deceptive touchpads) and I normally do it last thing at night.
I'm talking about blogging. It's a phenomenon. Whether people are putting words, pictures or videos out there, they're all taking the time to sit down and share something about themselves, their lives or their opinions with the world. And why? Is it further proof of what BBC in-house Documentary maker Adam Curtis has termed the 'Century of the Self'- an era in which we all consider ourselves, our lives and our personal thoughts important to the world as a whole? A time in which we encourage personal development over utilitarian movements? Is it mere vanity? Perhaps a shout for attention? Maybe an alternative to a world in which people actually communicated their hopes and fears to those close to them on a face to face basis?
Whatever the reasons, there's now a lot of rubbish out there. I know because I've looked. One of my major qualms with the internet has always been it's lack of censorship- a point I'm certain Ryan Giggs will now happily concede to me. What I mean though is that anything can be put out there. It doesn't need to be confirmed, considered publishable...basically it doesn't need to be true. And often it isn't. There are ways to help make sure you're likely to be accessing information with real evidence to back it up: Using academic websites or those affiliated with major newspapers and companies, and avoiding Wikepedia or unofficial websites. But once you veer away from scholarly material and start testing the waters in the world of blogs you'll be rewarded with opinions aplenty but -unless people enjoy using references- very little idea of how much is true. Perhaps this isn't important. Maybe that's not why people write and/or read blogs. We have specific sites to go to for facts and, if anyone's blog does become widely read, the writer is far more likely to keep a tight rein on their sources of information.
So here's another big question: How does your blog become widely read? We keep hearing about the modern freelance writer whose blog becomes so popular that they make much of their living selling advertising or getting commissioned work off the back of their online wordage. What do these bloggers have in common? At first look not much. According to The Guardian's article 'The World's 50 most powerful blogs' back in September 2008, they are a mix of personal writings from people famous and previously unknown, and blogs created by groups or companies to spread a particular message or idea. The general similarity that ties the majority of these blogs together is the concept of a theme.
For example: 'Chez Pim' writes about food, 'Girl with a One Track Mind' writes about...sex, 'Michelle Malkin's' theme is -and I quote- 'how liberals betray America by being soft on terrorism, peddling lies about global warming and generally lacking patriotism and moral fibre' (http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/mar/09/blogs). When famous people write, the main theme is obviously them. Of course they might write some interesting stuff but the main reason people will have begun reading their opinions over someone else's is, basically, because they are who they are.
But I don't have a theme. Look- we can grasp at straws here and say that my over-arching theme is my persona...who I am...a 24 year old girl living in London, trying to make a living in the creative industry and writing about her experiences. But that's not really a theme...it's certainly not a solid stance or consistent opinion. Sure, give me a theme and I'll wax lyrical about it. Believe me, after 7 years at a highly academic girls' school, doing A Levels in English Literature and Modern History, I can turn out column after column, blog after blog on the same subject with new information, research and opinions in each one. But without that structure imposed out me I jump around too much, I change my mind, I get distracted by new people and experiences. So will I interest anyone? Is there anything in what I write that would arrest someone's attention, make them say 'I want to read this'.
If not, I'm not going to stop writing. Just after JD Salinger's death I heard Erica Wagner talking about him on Radio 4. In reference to unpublished works by the writer, she commented that 'in this time of celebrity people forget that people used to write because they had to write'. This hit me hard. I realised that in this world where events, emotions and possibilities are immediately broadcast to our friends and -further afar-, and where money and image are holding more and more importance, the concept of sitting down and slowly creating work for the work's sake is becoming near to obselete. So I'll write regardless. It calms me down, it forces me to stop, think and reflect. I think it might even be leading me to finding out who I am...what I want to do with my life...but let's not get carried away.
Wait! What's this? There might be a loophole in my favour here. It turns out that there are a small number of bloggers who just write about...whatever, who manage to entice people who aren't just their friends (presumably because of sparkling wit and impressive verbosity) to read their blogs on a regular basis. A perfect example of this is 'Dooce' (www.dooce.com- I notice all successful blogs have purchased their own URL address aswell. Is this therefore indicative of success being achieved or the reason why it has already been reached? Egg or Chicken?), a woman named Heather Armstrong whose blog shot to fame -or infamy- after the dotcom company she worked for fired her when she criticised them in her blog! As a result she garnered a huge amount of public interest, and now has a huge following reading her every blog- be it about her cats, her mental health or her career. I wonder if it's just the sensationalisation of it or whether it was just the nudge people needed to start reading an interesting, well-written opinionated blog.
This said, my research has turned up the result I was most expecting. The general public for the most part are not interested in reading other people's diaries. Most of us do, it seems, have a limit to our nosiness and need to spy on other people's lives. But much like the way that newspaper columnists have always garnered a following, sometimes for their subject matter and sometimes for their writing style, bloggers are just the new generation of this. They tend to get the material out faster, there is a briefer pause for editing and publishing, and it gets directly to their readers.
So I've thought about it. I've mulled and mulled and then...written this article. And now I've decided.
I
think
I'm
overthinking
this.
Yup...I've come to the conclusion that I should just shut up and write - excuse the paradox - and keep my fingers crossed that I'm writing for someone other than myself. Good day.
I'm talking about blogging. It's a phenomenon. Whether people are putting words, pictures or videos out there, they're all taking the time to sit down and share something about themselves, their lives or their opinions with the world. And why? Is it further proof of what BBC in-house Documentary maker Adam Curtis has termed the 'Century of the Self'- an era in which we all consider ourselves, our lives and our personal thoughts important to the world as a whole? A time in which we encourage personal development over utilitarian movements? Is it mere vanity? Perhaps a shout for attention? Maybe an alternative to a world in which people actually communicated their hopes and fears to those close to them on a face to face basis?
Whatever the reasons, there's now a lot of rubbish out there. I know because I've looked. One of my major qualms with the internet has always been it's lack of censorship- a point I'm certain Ryan Giggs will now happily concede to me. What I mean though is that anything can be put out there. It doesn't need to be confirmed, considered publishable...basically it doesn't need to be true. And often it isn't. There are ways to help make sure you're likely to be accessing information with real evidence to back it up: Using academic websites or those affiliated with major newspapers and companies, and avoiding Wikepedia or unofficial websites. But once you veer away from scholarly material and start testing the waters in the world of blogs you'll be rewarded with opinions aplenty but -unless people enjoy using references- very little idea of how much is true. Perhaps this isn't important. Maybe that's not why people write and/or read blogs. We have specific sites to go to for facts and, if anyone's blog does become widely read, the writer is far more likely to keep a tight rein on their sources of information.
So here's another big question: How does your blog become widely read? We keep hearing about the modern freelance writer whose blog becomes so popular that they make much of their living selling advertising or getting commissioned work off the back of their online wordage. What do these bloggers have in common? At first look not much. According to The Guardian's article 'The World's 50 most powerful blogs' back in September 2008, they are a mix of personal writings from people famous and previously unknown, and blogs created by groups or companies to spread a particular message or idea. The general similarity that ties the majority of these blogs together is the concept of a theme.
For example: 'Chez Pim' writes about food, 'Girl with a One Track Mind' writes about...sex, 'Michelle Malkin's' theme is -and I quote- 'how liberals betray America by being soft on terrorism, peddling lies about global warming and generally lacking patriotism and moral fibre' (http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2008/mar/09/blogs). When famous people write, the main theme is obviously them. Of course they might write some interesting stuff but the main reason people will have begun reading their opinions over someone else's is, basically, because they are who they are.
But I don't have a theme. Look- we can grasp at straws here and say that my over-arching theme is my persona...who I am...a 24 year old girl living in London, trying to make a living in the creative industry and writing about her experiences. But that's not really a theme...it's certainly not a solid stance or consistent opinion. Sure, give me a theme and I'll wax lyrical about it. Believe me, after 7 years at a highly academic girls' school, doing A Levels in English Literature and Modern History, I can turn out column after column, blog after blog on the same subject with new information, research and opinions in each one. But without that structure imposed out me I jump around too much, I change my mind, I get distracted by new people and experiences. So will I interest anyone? Is there anything in what I write that would arrest someone's attention, make them say 'I want to read this'.
If not, I'm not going to stop writing. Just after JD Salinger's death I heard Erica Wagner talking about him on Radio 4. In reference to unpublished works by the writer, she commented that 'in this time of celebrity people forget that people used to write because they had to write'. This hit me hard. I realised that in this world where events, emotions and possibilities are immediately broadcast to our friends and -further afar-, and where money and image are holding more and more importance, the concept of sitting down and slowly creating work for the work's sake is becoming near to obselete. So I'll write regardless. It calms me down, it forces me to stop, think and reflect. I think it might even be leading me to finding out who I am...what I want to do with my life...but let's not get carried away.
Wait! What's this? There might be a loophole in my favour here. It turns out that there are a small number of bloggers who just write about...whatever, who manage to entice people who aren't just their friends (presumably because of sparkling wit and impressive verbosity) to read their blogs on a regular basis. A perfect example of this is 'Dooce' (www.dooce.com- I notice all successful blogs have purchased their own URL address aswell. Is this therefore indicative of success being achieved or the reason why it has already been reached? Egg or Chicken?), a woman named Heather Armstrong whose blog shot to fame -or infamy- after the dotcom company she worked for fired her when she criticised them in her blog! As a result she garnered a huge amount of public interest, and now has a huge following reading her every blog- be it about her cats, her mental health or her career. I wonder if it's just the sensationalisation of it or whether it was just the nudge people needed to start reading an interesting, well-written opinionated blog.
This said, my research has turned up the result I was most expecting. The general public for the most part are not interested in reading other people's diaries. Most of us do, it seems, have a limit to our nosiness and need to spy on other people's lives. But much like the way that newspaper columnists have always garnered a following, sometimes for their subject matter and sometimes for their writing style, bloggers are just the new generation of this. They tend to get the material out faster, there is a briefer pause for editing and publishing, and it gets directly to their readers.
So I've thought about it. I've mulled and mulled and then...written this article. And now I've decided.
I
think
I'm
overthinking
this.
Yup...I've come to the conclusion that I should just shut up and write - excuse the paradox - and keep my fingers crossed that I'm writing for someone other than myself. Good day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)