" I've got some 'splainin' to do! "

A fair bit of my last Blog entry was dedicated to the process of revision, more specifically, my complete inability to do any. I've been thinking a little about other possible reasons and distractions that could account for this, as it does very little for my self-esteem to believe that I am simply rubbish at it. One of the most efficient distractions ,and also simultaneously brilliant and irritating, is the huge number of Web Comics out there in dot.com land. I discovered these during the Summer and it is true that many hours of my life have been lost forever to the panelled realm of the daily Web Comic.

Comic books are the guilty pleasure of many male adolescents. Given that I was never your run-of-the-mill male adolescent I was exempt from this. My first exposure to the comic was by means of television and film adaptations. Spiderman was a cartoon I watched casually on weekend mornings if there was nothing hosted by Sir David Attenborough showing on Animal Planet. Batman was, to me, a series of rather excellent films, brilliant ways of passing a couple of hours with friends and family, filled to bursting with action, explosions and all those things which inspire semi-erections in men of all ages (Men in full-body lycra ...yeah ...awesome ...). I was, and probably still am, almost entirely ignorant to the vast wealth of comic books out there which, if book to film productions are anything to go by, are much more in-depth than their popular, multi-million dollar cinematic counterparts.

Popular culture has moulded the comic-book fan into a rather pitiful stereotype. Socially awkward, preyed upon by those higher in the schoolyard hierarchy and cringe-worthy in their romantic exploits. In Britain this was never the case as superhero comics were never as popular as the likes of "The Beano" and "The Dandy". These seemed to be entirely more wholesome entertainment. They dealt with rowdy young boys and their constant hijinks. They encouraged childish behaviour and carefree trouble making. Their popularity has dwindled over the years of course, as a result of crack-downs on anti-social behaviour, vandalism and such unsavoury activities.

But the world of comics, I have discovered, is not merely the playground of the social rejects among younger generations, or up-and-coming thugs and hoodies. It needn't be surrounded by fifty feet high walls of tortured prepubescent imagination, stained with the piss and poor-grammar laden vandalism of yobs, cutting off any communication with reality.

Dearest readers of "In Lamb We Trust", I give you Web Comics!

The first of these I stumbled across was the "Cyanide and Happiness" series. It's quite well known and is often inspired in its twisted brand of hilarity.

"Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal", is another in a similar vein.

There are many others, all of which I recommend wholeheartedly.

xkcd.com - by a physics postgraduate I think.
Dinosaur Comics - cleverly uses the same strip every day, but with different dialogue. Concerns a wacky T-Rex.
8-Bit Theatre - an actual narrative. A sort of role playing computer game parody using bits and bobs from old Final Fantasy games.
Wondermark - quite brilliant. Enough said.

If any of you actually read these you may well understand why I perpetually fail to revise, to turn up for lectures, to get dressed in the morning, to go outside and to meet girls.

Enjoy,

Jamie

2008: A Christmas Odyssey...

Given that the Christmas which has just passed is the first since the onset of the economic recession, you’d be forgiven for thinking that it was one of desolate dining tables , uncomfortable new boxers (courtesy of the Woolworths closing down sale) and presents salvaged from the attic (first received in 1998 but long since forgotten). You’d be forgiven equally for thinking that, in light of this, my January entry is about to disappear into a dark tunnel of snide political commentary or a vast labyrinth of complicated, opinionated and wholly implausible economic solutions. However, my Christmas holidays were actually very enjoyable. Admittedly I got very, very drunk the night before Christmas Eve and woke up surprised and alarmed in a strange room, but once I identified the person giving me my cup of tea I felt much better and the holidays resumed their aforementioned state of very-enjoyableness. A night out in Glasgow flew by in a blur of unfounded personal attacks on a man I don't know. Amusing though it would probably be to record the events of that night, I can’t remember anything. I was probably an embarrassment to those around me and doubtlessly engaged a lot of perfectly decent people in grossly inappropriate conversations but such is the risk one takes when inviting me to anything. No social gathering is safe from the malign influence of my inebriation.

Anywho, I awoke on Christmas morning to an impressive enough pile of presents. In this pile were the usual supply of amusing books, DVDs, sweets, CDs and miscellaneous bits and bobs. Of particular interest was a ticket to see Samuel Beckett’s ‘Waiting for Godot’ in April at the King’s Theatre, Edinburgh, starring none other than Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen! Seat C7 as well, which is nothing to be sniffed at, unless in a respectful and admiring manner, a sniffing such as one might bestow upon a particularly delicious and aromatic meal or...perhaps...a particularly well-positioned seat in a theatre. I’m sure it will be brilliant and a welcome break from the soul-sapping, will-to-live-devouring, hope-crushing, blood-pressure-raising process of University revision. I’m awful at revision. You see, in Standard Grade I was able to do fairly well without it. Unfortunately this innocent arrogance evolved, leaving the murky Precambrian waters of endearing schoolboy nonchalance and crawling on its belly into the Devonian landscape of flat-out future-endangering laziness. So in Higher, knowing I could at least pass without revising, I decided this was good enough and that I should mess about instead.

Mistake.

And a half.

I didn’t do as well as I could have and now that exams are important, I lack the mental tools and the motivation to begin revision more than twenty-four hours prior to the exam itself. Imagine you actually ingested information like food. In this world, rather than gradually working my way through a semester’s worth without notable fluctuations in my weight, absorbing the valuable nutritious facts like complex carbohydrates over a long period, I would force feed myself it all in one marathon binge-eating sesh. As a result I stumble into the exam hall, clothes ripped beyond recognition, struggling to excavate precious facts from the folds of fat flowing out of my chafing rags like lava down the side of a volcano. I think that metaphor is quite good at conveying just how horrible it is to “cram” all your revision into the day, or even the night, before the exam. Let the emotional scar of this mental image serve as a warning to you all!

But I have wandered far from the main subject of this entry. Christmas!
I now have ‘The World According to Clarkson’ to read while on the loo. It’s brilliant for this purpose as you can simply read a couple of articles in one sitting without becoming engrossed in the plot and character present in a novel. Hilarious though it is I have to cover it with a towel or something after I’m finished my business. The front cover shows a rather perplexed looking Jeremy Clarkson looking out at me, and the rear cover a barn owl with its head at a forty-five degree angle of unconcealed curiosity. I’d rather have neither of them staring at me while I sweep the chimney of the South wing.

It’s late as I write this in my newly decorated room. I have been displaced from the living room as it is impossible to concentrate on composing exaggeratedly verbose musings while deafened by the roar of X-Box 360 rally games. Dad seems to enjoy his new steering wheel controller though.

So I wish you all a good night (or a good whenever-you’re-reading-this) and wish everyone I didn’t see on the night a Happy New Year!

Yours,

Jamie.