Category Archives: personal

Two years of Goodreads

I first joined Goodreads in September 2015 and have been using it on & (mostly) off ever since. In the last eight or nine months my activity on the book review site has accelerated. Before opening the first page I immediately update my “book shelf” and after final sentence I award the author my stars. My visits to Goodreads have probably increased due to ‘Reading Challenge” function. This feature allows the user to set a reading goal for the end of the year, so that whenever you complete and update your latest favourite you’re also reaching a goal.

For this year’s reading challenge I set myself an attainable target of 45 books. Now we are roughly half way through the year and I’ve managed a respectable 27 titles (60% apparently). This pile of books has been bolstered this year by being able to update eBooks from my kindle devices. Opening up my Goodreads to electronic texts has been helpful in finding new books as well. Sometimes, one of the worst aspects of being a heavy reader is that you simply run out of books, or rather you can’t see the wood for the trees. Perhaps a more subtitle metaphor for this stage in the paper’s production would be ‘not seeing the pages for the books’? Whichever allusion you choose, it’s handy to have a community of people, across several platforms with varied reading interests that mirror and inspire your own.

The other function I’ve recently discovered (I shall exorbitantly name) is multi-platform reviewing. This allows me to share my recent Goodread reviews on my WordPress blog. Sharing the reviews onto my blog is something I am excited about because it enable me to join two areas of my writing experience together. Now that the reading challenge is slowly rolling downhill towards the goal I intend to focus more intently on the reviews and hope you enjoy them.

Happy Reading

Stockholm still surprises me

Today marks the anniversary of the first time I got on a plane and left the little island known as England. My first journey to another country was for a second date at the 2016 Eurovision Song Contest. Fast forward twelve months and I’ve flown to Sweden over a dozen times because the second date transfigured into relationship. As usual I step off the plane knowing exactly when the Flybussanar arrives; I’m aware the time it takes to grab a filter coffee from 7/11; how I jump from the coach, take the tube and always laugh at the stop called Aspudden. The routine is now scarily familiar but is the central reason why Stockholm feels like my second home.

On Saturday afternoon we wandered into central Stockholm for food supplies. On the way I detoured into the city library to get a smell of old books but was distracted by the road completely lined with people. There was a commentator with a crackled microphone whose every third word I understood. He was commentating the KTH Royal Institute of Technology’s student’s parade. I soon learned that every three years the scientific minds carnival the streets with a procession of floats. The whole city seemed to turn out for an exhibit of adapted cars and dancing. It lasted about an hour and when the last vehicle passed a trail of the public followed the music into the distance.

My last visit demonstrated an important lesson. It taught that cities are large with a plethora of people living within its boundaries. The lives of these people interact, collide and change. In each 24hour cycle a multitude of new events occur, making every day different. No matter how familiar you are with your roads there’s always another to wander or maybe a parade will stumble across yours. I’m excited for the new possibilites the city has to offer. I’ll sleuth our some more of your secrets Stockholm when I see you in three weeks.

The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds

If you’re among the two people who read my previous post you’ll know how nine-year-old me failed to become The Hero of Time. My inadequacy in completing my first Zelda game has haunted me ever since. At night my sleep is disturbed by my conceding of the Kingdom of Hyrule to Ganondorf. The failure repeated itself in several of the games and every incarnation of Link I played ultimately lost. In Majora’s Mask I couldn’t prevent the moon from plummeting into Clock Town and in a Link to the Past I gave up at the first dungeon. However, just as the Zelda games keep reincarnating the hero for fresh adversity, so I continued to pick up my sword and console to face the varying Avatars of Ganon. There’s an anecdote that stipulates that a room of monkeys with a typewriter will eventually write up the works of Shakespeare. This claim is accurate because after trying my sixth attempt at Zelda I finally succeeded in defeating the darkness. I became the saviour of Hyrule in The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds.

Some may argue that this is an easy game and a true Hero is the one who can dispel the tide of Evil on a television, not on the dual screens of the Nintendo 3DS. Others may postulate that it is cheating to use an online walk-through and to rage quit when defeated in order to preserve hired weapons rather than wasting Rupees on purchasing items again. To these combatants I respond that I am the Hero of both Hyrule and Lorule with no defeats. To save two kingdoms from despair any means must be taken.

A Link Between Worlds is a classic Zelda title, relying on the usual tropes and story I have come to expect and adore. As Link I save the Princess, obtain a decent enough sword to cut up bad guys and defend the triforce. The map is reminiscent of a Link to the past and it isn’t an offence in saying Nintendo has built on old work. The unique mechanic of this game is the ability to merge into walls by become a painting. This technique allows you to walk between Hyrule and Lorule, accessing areas that cannot be reached in one plane alone. Jumping between the parallels is a unique feature that adds an interesting facet to the game and a new complexity to dungeon puzzles.

With the newly mastered ability I imbued the master Sword with ore and defeated the recent aspect of Ganon and his androgynous benefactor Yuga. As the title credits detailed victory my chin raised in pride. After fifteen years and countless defeats I had finally grown into the Hero of Hyrule. With new pride I may return to the past, be awoken by Navi and rectify the mistakes of childhood.

 

The Defeated Hero of Time

I have been the Hero of Time for fifteen years. In all the time I’ve been defending Hyrule I’ve been cursed: cursed to never complete a game. My hex began with my first console. For Christmas 2002 I was gifted with a Nintendo64, a copy of Mario Cart and The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Mario Kart was easy to play, simply accelerate and dodge the shells. Zelda, on the other hand, proved to be a challenge to great for a nine year old.

The first hours of game play were easy enough. I was awoken by Navi, bought a shield, obtained my sword and delved into the internal dungeon of The Great Deku Tree. After banishing Gohma I mourned the passing of The Great Deku Tree and snaked my way around Hyrule Castle, before Princess Zelda sent me on my Quest up Death Mountain. It went so well I could have recorded the first few hours as a decent walk-through. Next I bombed open the entrance to Dodongo’s Cavern and with my shield raised I soldiered inside. At this point my Mother wanted a turn at being The Hero of Time. Hesitantly, I passed her the yellow controller, only to watch her push the joystick forward and Link straight into lava.

Declaring it was a child’s game she passed the controller back and went along with her day not knowing my Deku Shield was now cinders. I tried to continue along the Dungeon with my Hylian Shield but it was too strong to defeat the Deku Scrubs. Instead of returning their projectiles, the overly effective shield demolished the attacks and prevented further journey into Dodongo’s Cavern. Defeated I trudged back out of the second dungeon and went in search of a new Deku Shield.

Even now I am hindered by my lack of instinctual direction. For the nine year old player this was even worse. Hard as I tried I couldn’t return to Korkiri Village and purchase the essential item. I traveled the map for days, braving the skeletons the plagued the plains at night. In the end I gave up on my dream of retrieving the Goron Ruby and left my the console to gather dust.

Journeying into Copy-writing

In September of last year I was asked by a friend to proofread and edit their tender for work. I did a good job apparently. So much so that he suggested I start doing it freelance and charging for it. At the time I’d applied for many editing, proofreading and copy-writing jobs. Only one interview came out of it and I was quickly rejected. His suggestion of doing it independently seemed appealing because it would bolster the little working experience I had. Hopefully the freelancing would be more appealing to employers.

I set about building a website through another online website which somehow creates other websites. It’s still a little perplexing that can be done- it seems like matryoshka dolls but for the internet. However, I gave the site a try and have had a page since September. Unfortunately, I haven’t had the response I would. Perhaps this is because the website still needs a polish; maybe I need to be bolder in my advertising- I shall work on both. Speaking of bolder advertising…here’s the link:

http://twaine24.wixsite.com/website

 

 

Poetry Reading

It’s an odd thing to confess you write poems. You hide them away in books, in old shoe boxes and under the bed. They’re treated like a large spot on the end of your nose. You walk with your head to the ground hoping nobody notices, or worse wants to take a good look. It’s a hard thing to let someone else read your poems because it makes you feel vulnerable. When you’re writing nonfiction it appears in your head as if you’re conversing a subject with another person: you’re just explaining what you think about the topic. But a poem doesn’t form at you fingers in the same way. It’s more automatic than the talking stroll of sentence. In truth, it feels more sensitive and there’s no guarantee the reader will understand it, let alone think it’s good.

I have been writing poems for a few years. They always stay in word documents, notebooks and on scraps of paper. Rarely I’ll share them with a trusted friend. However, in December I was brave (through much encouragement) and stood in front of over ten people and read five of my poems. Apparently, this is referred to as doing a set. Standing before so many people, reading what is normally clandestine was terrifying. The recording will show the shakes of my bones and at the time I was too caught up in the fear to enjoy the experience. Strangely, as soon as I’d finished and the adrenaline had ebbed away, I wanted to do it again. Only the second time I wanted to do it better, the way I’d practiced in front of the mirror. I now know that reading in front of others isn’t just exposing- it’s freeing as well.

That night there wasn’t chance for another try and I only had one other poem prepared. The other acts took the stage. There were a few guitar players/singers, other poets and a girl with a ukulele. They all were brave and brilliant, showing their talents for a good cause. The aim of the evening was to raise money and awareness for a mental health charity named CALM.(campaign against living miserably). Their focus is prevention of male suicide, a cause which initially confused me until I learned that 3 out of 4 suicides are male. The organisers of the event (at the Nexus Art Cafe in Manchester) are an art collective called Datura who produce original plays and are starting their first film later in the year.

I’m grateful to have people who challenge me and I’m inspired that there’s people reaching out to those who most need it. I hope to engage in such an important event again and next time I’ll aim to slow my words and shake less throughout the set.

The poem I didn’t read that night:

Alpha

In the beginning there was the word

lighting on tongue of Gods

but when it first cracked out his human skull

I misheard it as “hello”:

His eyes that saw Pangaea split, continents drift

apart on sheets of ocean foam,

Lost warmth when I turned the body over

into frost soft pillows of snow.

I pulled the spear from his sleeping head

thanked a God for battle well won

with lines that ran my face in blood

praying conflict, never war.

With one last breath of wind or luck

the dreamer shook out a jigsaw of bone,

I sat among the red, rearranging the hieroglyphs

until his mantra formed:

“Cool down the spear,

heat up the pot and

with open ears

pass my message on.”

https://www.thecalmzone.net/

https://www.facebook.com/daturaproductions.uk/?pnref=story

Show and Tell: Harry Potter edit

In my final year of university  I shared a house with three other guys. Every week we used to have “show and tell” involving a scoreboard, point system and no prizes. For one particular “show and tell” I contributed the video bellow. It’s not funny. At the time I thought I was editing comedy gold. After two years it has drawn in three hundred viewers and only two likes- a testament to the serious lack of humour. In its time on YouTube drawn  I’ve drawn people on the harry potter hook only to disappoint them, and now dear reader I shall disappoint you.