So Say We All

I’m breaking with the title traditions of SC 2.0 to go back to 1.0’s quotation titles for today. For today, I reflect upon my favourite television show, Battlestar Galactica, in light of the sad passing of the show’s original creator, Glen A. Larson.

A retrospective on what Galactica means to me has been something I’ve been contemplating doing for a long time. Dribs and drabs of information have been coming through for a while now – a couple of weeks ago I talked about the show’s score and Bear McCreary’s unrelenting musical genius. At the start of this year, my retrospective on 2013 featured photographic evidence of my Galactica-related tattoo and the vague origins of why it came to be. But I haven’t gone into a lot of depth of my history with the show.

It all starts with the BBC and the original 1979 Battlestar Galactica. BBC2, to be as precise as my dim recollection of those childhood days will allow. I was in my extremely early teens and every now and again, I would catch this random show on BBC2. It had evil robots, gallant fighter pilots, wise commanders but most importantly, it had big frakkin’ spaceships! I’d say I was hooked, but back then the only show I was religiously hooked on was The Simpsons. It would be a couple of years before I would start getting into things properly (such as Farscape, again BBC2 coming to the rescue there) and by then Galactica only appeared occasionally.

Now my family never owned Sky and the friends that did lived too far away, so in 2003 when the re-imagined Galactica mini-series hit the screens, I was only vaguely aware of what was going on. In 2004, when the full series came around, I was more aware from catching sight of it in the TV guide and thinking “Hey, that show” but thought little more of it. It would 2010 before Galactica truly came back into my life.

Through geekiness I shared with one of my university lecturers (who, through her wisdom in introducing me to Galactica has received the call sign “Athena”), I was lent the 2003 mini-series. A hostage-exchange of sorts, given that I had loaned Athena one of the seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Almost immediately I fell in love with the show. In the time that it was in my possession, I watched it over and over. When it came time to arrange the handover of prisoners, I received season one and proceeded to blitz through it. Then season two. Unable to contain myself, I bought seasons three and the final season (erroneously believing that it was both halves of season four. Upon realising my error, I ordered season four) and powering through them. On 25th August 2010, the day I went to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World for the first time, I also watched the final episodes of Battlestar Galactica. I won’t lie, I got a little choked up. I didn’t want it to end. And there’s something the Tigh and Adama discuss in an episode just before the grand finale that REALLY got me choked up.

The show’s legacy in my life is something that I know baffles and sometimes irritates people (especially my colleagues at work because they have to listen to it all the frakkin’ time). I have incorporated the term “frak” into my everyday vocabulary. There’s the tattoo and my tradition of assigning my friends ranks and call signs. It may utterly baffle, confound and irritate people with how deeply Galactica has been integrated into my life, but it is simply my favourite TV show ever. Once a crown claimed by Firefly, I had to pass it on. While I love Firefly, it’s not the best to me. Sure, it has spaceships, but it doesn’t have space battles. Or Bear McCreary’s score. Or the cast of Galactica, who are downright amazing. I want to give special kudos hear to one of the United Kingdom’s own, James Callis. His portrayal of Doctor Gaius “The Spineless” Baltar (“The Spineless” is a moniker I apply personally) is outstanding. Baltar’s character has a depth and complexity that make him incredibly compelling to watch. And this is just one of the many characters I love (or love to hate, in the case of Gaius frakkin’ Baltar).

I could go on and on, but I don’t think the point needs too much hammering home. Maybe just one final reflection. Given that this post was inspired by tragic passing of Galactica’s creator, it should be noted that without Glen A. Larson, none of this would have happened. Ronald D. Moore and David Eick wouldn’t have had  a series to re-imagine, I wouldn’t have fallen madly in love with it. I wouldn’t have had one of my earliest sci-fi influences. So here’s to you, Glen A. Larson. Thank you for having the idea and realising it. You will be missed.

Tea is soothing, I wish to be tense

Okay, let's be brutally honest. I have completely and utterly frakkin' failed to keep my head of the bargain and actually write any blog entries. I mean, frak me. The last blog post in January? At least between September and December of 2013 I had the excuse that I was busy writing a one hundred and ten thousand word novel (yes, I'm probably going to brag about that one A LOT) but I haven't had such a good excuse since January. Nope, chalk this one up to being plain frakkin' lazy. Though in some statement of defence, I have been working on a short story to my novel and scheming for the possible sequel.

However, I did give a lot of time over to being addicted to XCOM: Enemy Within and finally getting around to sitting down with my housemate and watching The Wire. We're entering the home stretch with series five, with any good fortune I might get off my ass and blog about it when we finally finish it all.

Anyway, this is not at all the purpose of today's blog entry. No, the purpose of today's and hopefully some future instalments (possibly with the same post title but "Part 2" etc. put on them) is a series of controlled, scientific experiments I am conducting. On myself. With coffee.

Ahem.

I should probably give you all the time honoured context...

Some of my dearest readers may be somewhat entirely aware of my reaction to mythical substance of coffee, in particular its addictive drug lord, caffeine. To the uninitiated, I go completely off-the-rails hyper. To the point where I will collapse on the floor in fits of uncontrollable hysterics for no earthly reason whatsoever. I will admit, I found this feeling to be utterly glorious.

There is, of course, a note of delicious irony to this story. Once upon a many Moon ago (click on obligatory flashback link to ancient blog post here) I talked about my journey through the weird and mystical world of tea. I mentioned that I work for a company called Boston Tea Party, an independent chain (yes, a definite contradiction in terms but it kind of fits) of - currently - fourteen coffee shops, mostly in the south-west of England, slowly encroaching northwards. ANYWAY. The irony here is that I work in a coffee shop and rarely ever drink coffee for the simple reason that it can turn me into a completely gibbering, useless wreck almost as effectively as a certain beautiful American girl's intense blue eyes, the cold blue like glistening ice and so help me Dionysus if I continue along this road we'll never get home.

So you kind of see the logic behind the following equation: Achilleus + Caffeine = Hysterical Wreck. Admittedly, Dynamite's eyes don't make me hysterical, just poetical. Which is just as dangerous.

Moving swiftly on, the point here, the point of quoting the wise, wonderful and witty Rupert Giles in his exchange with Xander from Buffy the Vampire Slayer 3x22 "Graduation Day, Part Two" is that on Monday, 28th April 2014, the unthinkable happened. On an early morning shift, the last with my great friend and wingman Sonic who is abandoning me for Oxford, I was so tired and uninspired by the idea of a morning cup of tea (or perhaps it was that little Devil inside me saying, "It's your last shift with Sonic, have some fun") I decided I wanted a coffee.

Sonic, in his infinite wisdom and slight tendency towards sadism, dutifully made me a flat white (a drink which is the source of much debate in coffee circles as to its precise definition and coffee/milk ratio, a subject for another day though). Now usually, signs of caffeination hysteria are noticeable within ten-fifteen minutes of the first sip of coffee. But by the time I had finished the delightful mixture of smooth, textured milk and medium roast coffee (yes, I am turning into a corporate tool who's hoping to shove this blog post on the Boston Tea Party Facebook just to...well, to just do something) no signs of CH had occurred. I did at one point stop and hold my hand in front of me and notice some signs of shaking, but the (what I thought was) inevitable hysteria failed to materialise. So later in the afternoon, I decided to push the boat right out. I had a second coffee.

No incidents of caffeination hysteria were recorded on Monday, 28th April 2014.

This has led to much thought and debate upon what precisely happened. Potential factors include:

-->Work was busy enough to provide a focus for energy produced by caffeine infusion
-->Tiredness and caffeination combined to create an equilibrious point neatly in the middle
-->I'm developing a tolerance to caffeine

The first two are quite obvious and workable theories. The third is far more intriguing. While I have not had an entire caffeinated beverage start to finish, I have on occasion tasted the espresso at work as a means of divining flavour notes, whether it tastes good or bad. On certain, what I call "Disaster", days I have had to calibrate the coffee machine first thing in the morning to ensure that, at the very least, the café is able to serve coffee, even if some of the subtle nuances like jugs of tap water and cake displays have not been entirely attended to. Rare, extremely rare. But it's happened and I have the vague training to know what I'm doing, get it tasting good and serving good coffee. At least, I'm pretty sure I've not had many complaints.

Anyway, humility and hedging one's bets aside, it is theoretically possible that small levels of exposure have led to an increased tolerance. Caffeine receptors in my brain no longer go completely outright ballistic as soon as the wonder-drug is introduced into my cerebellum. Of course, coffee takes the bloodstream route, the direct highway to the brain. Tea, my usual beverage of choice, takes the nervous system route. A little slower, but lasts a little longer and is somewhat subtler. It is also, though tenuously, theoretically possible that it has also primed my system for caffeinated beverages.

Another plausible theory is that I have had so many non-caffeine induced attacks of hysteria that my brain didn't really care that it was being flooded with the stuff on Monday.

So with all these theories in mind, a decision was made. I would have to drink more coffee. All in the name of SCIENCE (we're talking Portal-style, throwing SCIENCE - it has be in capital letters for this - at the wall to see what sticks, paraphrased courtesy of Cave Johnson, CEO of Aperture Laboratories). So, in the glorious pursuit of SCIENCE, today saw the first of a what might be a series of controlled tests.

Last night, I went out to the pub to have farewell drinks for Sonic before his inevitable departure to Oxford. I returned home around one o'clock in the morning and then dragged myself out of bed at five o'clock that same morning. Immediately noticed that I was dreadfully tired. The stage was set for Test 1.

-->Test 1: 1xCaffeinated Beverage, 1xSleep Deprived Achilleus. Add two together, observe results.

The results being that within minutes I noticed that I was more focused and alert. I fear I may have gone down the slippery slope towards caffeine dependency, but we'll see what my body has to say after the test cycle has been completed. To wit, the proposed cycle of testing:

-->Test 2: 1xCaffeinated Beverage, 1xNon-Sleep Deprived Achilleus. This test will serve to prove or disprove the Tiredness Equilibrium Theory
-->Test 3: 2xCaffeinated Beverage, 1xSleep Deprived Achilleus. This test will attempt to recreate the circumstances of Monday, 28th April 2014 in order to duplicate results, to ascertain that it wasn't just a fluke
-->Test 4: 2xCaffeinated Beverage 1xNon-Sleep Deprived Achilleus. This test will be the gamma radiation experiment. It could result in The Hulk, it could fizzle to nothing, but it is likely to produce the final proof of whether or not I have become caffeine tolerant to the point I will not suffer caffeination hysteria

So there you have it. The path of my scientific journey to discover if I'm resistant to the hysterical effects of caffeine. I intend to at the very least update this blog over the course of these experiments, if not update the blog more often from now on. Who knows, eh? Until, it's time to drink some more coffee. FOR SCIENCE!

I'm here to save the world, who will save Supergirl?

Today's title is a little bit abstract of sorts. And instead of being a television or movie quotation, it's a line from a song. Music is funny thing with me. I tend to go through phases, listening to one album/particular set of albums at any one time. Currently, I'm in a phase where I'm near constantly listening to one of my (recently discovered) favourite bands, Halestorm. Specifically, their album "The Strange Case Of..." and this particular lyric is from the song "Hate It When You See Me Cry".

So I've established the context of the title. Now I have to explain how it has earned the label of "abstract of sorts". You see, today I have decided that I shall do a top ten list, as I haven't done one in a good long while. And in the spirit of vengeance that I have been possessed by as of a late. Before I go into the list, a tiny bit more context in terms of spirit of vengeance.

It involves one of the people dearest to my heart, as it often does when my spirit of vengeance is invoked. The Rhaegar Targaryen to my Lyanna Stark, the one known as Thief. To briefly surmise, someone is being evil to her. This person is known as The Harpy, The Garbage Scow or The Monumental Bitch (pardon my language). It is this person who has awoken my spirit of vengeance. And for this reason, it's time for my top ten fictional weapons. Useful for personal defence and exacting vengeance upon silly, useless Garbage Scows.

10: The Scythe (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Not only featuring a neat little stake at the bottom, the Scythe as one hell of a blade which is excellent for slicing, dicing and making julienne preacher. As you can see, it has a rather pretty colour scheme and is capable of slicing Nathan Fillion into two halves. Just to repeat one salient piece of information...slices...Nathan...Fillion. Into two halves. For that it deserves a place in the top ten, but for the crime of splitting Captain Tightpants in two, it remains at number 10.

9: Ebony Warhammer (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim)

So I've mentioned Skyrim a few times now. As of this moment, I'm at level fifty-two and thus far, only really at the point of using Ebony weapons, even though Daedric weapons are cropping up here and there, while Dragonbone weapons still elude my reach for now. As a result, I have discovered what could be considered a slight streak of House Baratheon mixed in with my House Stark-ness. And that is the use of warhammers as my favoured mêlée weapon. It's rather worryingly satisfying to beat down a horde of enemies with this particular weapon.

8: The Tesla (Warehouse 13)

Not a weapon for killing, but very, very satisfying for electrocuting/stunning them into submission. Invented by every self-respecting geek's favourite underdog scientist, Nikola Tesla. Wielded by many agents of the Warehouse and knacked (thank you, China Miéville for this usage of the term) handily by the brilliant Claudia Donovan into the Tesla grenade, it is a simple weapon. A civilised weapon, given that it doesn't kill. And it wipes short-term memory just a little. Handy if you're caught doing something you shouldn't really be doing...

7: RC-P120 (Perfect Dark)

One of only two projectile weapons to make it onto the list, the RC-P120 has the distinction of being the only automatic weapon on the list. With a clip capacity of (funnily enough) one hundred and twenty bullets, it is perfect for tearing into a crowd of enemies. It also has a neat secondary function (as all Perfect Dark weapons do) of having a cloaking device. There are two drawbacks - one, the device feeds off the P120's ammunition at a phenomenal rate and two, as soon as you pull the trigger, the cloak disengages. I favour the approach of jamming down on the trigger and taking down my enemies. It's rather effective I find.

6: Particle Magnum (Stargate: Atlantis)

Modelled here by its main user, the ruggedly handsome Jason Momoa (in character as Satedan native Ronon Dex), the particle magnum is...just...well...neat. A powerful handgun that fires red particle blasts, well...in a slightly disconcerting way, it's an awfully pretty gun. But mainly it packs a neat wallop and hands down defeats the SGC's choice of the FN P90 as their default weapon. Plus, it's Jason Momoa's gun. That gives an instant cool rating.

5: Mjölnir (Thor)
 


Again modelled by a ruggedly handsome fellow, we delve into that awkward line between mythology and fantasy with the fabled weapon of the God of Thunder. Yes, it's the return of the mêlée weapons with Mjölnir. Now unfortunately, I have not read the comics. Well, except for a brief flirtation with the Secret Invasion story arc of the Marvel Universe. Back to the point, my experience with Mjölnir is mainly confined to Thor and I dare say, Chris Hemsworth does a lot of fun things with Mjölnir. Not only can it bash the ever-loving crap out of things, but it also helps Thor to fly. That's right. He can use the hammer to FLY. That's cool. Undeniably.

4: Honjo Masamune (Warehouse 13)

Warehouse 13 slips into the top ten once again, this time with a mêlée weapon - the ancient Japanese artefact, the Honjo Masamune. According to the wonderful Artie Nielsen, the Honjo Masamune is a katana so perfectly aligned that it can SPLIT LIGHT AROUND IT. And by doing so, it renders the user INVISIBLE. It's a katana that turns you invisible. This is quite possibly one of the most perfect vengeance weapons. Not quite the number one weapon, alas, but it's...well...it turns you frakkin' invisible. How cool is that?

3: Dark Energy-Infused Gravity Gun (Half-Life 2)

This one has, quite possibly, the most interesting definition of "weapon". It doesn't really fire things. It just...picks them up. Like a ball of dark energy, as illustrated above. The ball is then fired, which then disintegrates people. And in the final phases of Half-Life 2, the Gravity Gun becomes infused with dark energy, supercharging it. Not only does it pick up balls of dark energy, it picks up PEOPLE. Well, evil Combine soldiers. And from there, you can fire them into streams of dark energy. Which disintegrates them. It's awesome. Hence, it's in the top three.

 
2: Purple Flaming Katana of Self-Respect (Scott Pilgrim vs. The World)

We're closing in on the top spot and at number two, we have another katana. No official title as such, so I made one up. As featured in the movie Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, it is a purple flaming katana, pulled out of Scott's chest when he earns the power of self-respect. It's at number two for the simple reason that it's on fire. Purple fire. End of.

1: Moses Brothers Frontier Model B (Firefly/Serenity)

Shock horror, it's Firefly coming in at the top spot. Like all things in this corner of the Whedonverse, it's just a tiny bit pretty. I even have a replica of it in my room. There's something just so...simple about this weapon. It's a pistol. Nothing fancy, no great little secondary functions, just a simple handgun. It fires bullets. It gets Mal either in to, or out of, various hijinks. And let's not forget, "Every well-bred petty crook knows that the small conceable weapons go to the far left of the place setting". I just love that line. It has no real relevance, but oh well.

So there we have it. Potentially showcasing a worrying side of my psyche that finds weapons aesthetically pleasing, but, well...The Harpy shouldn't be making Thief's life difficult for her. It makes me vengeful. She won't like me when I'm vengeful. I'm a Stark of Winterfell. And no matter what she does, Winter is Coming. Plus, she's pissing off a Targaryen. Historically, not a good idea.

Now that's enough babble for one day. I'm hyper on tea and wondering if all of this was a good idea. Oh well. Should find out in the morning. Reminds of a good quotation from The Princess Bride:

"Good night, Westley, good work today. Most likely kill you in the morning."

(Song of the Mind: Hate It When You See Me Cry - Halestorm)

You were my sire, man! You were my...Yoda!

Today I'm going to be doing something a little bit different. Well, kind of mixing things up a little. Something from Column A and something from Column B. On this particular day, Column A is similar to a little something I did back in June. Anyone remember this little gem? I talked a lot here about being a writer, about the community of writers that exist in this wonderful world of ours. Or, as I called it, The Writerverse. It is in the name of The Writerverse that I commence babbling this particular eve.

The quotation in the title is a reference to one specific writer. Her callsign is Spike. As a fellow fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it was only fitting to name her after one of the most awesome characters from the series. Especially as she is, in some respects, my sire. If it weren't for Spike, I may never have discovered that I enjoyed dancing. Going out...having fun. Having that funny odd thing called...a Life.

So there it is. She is my sire, man.

Anyway, Spike is a fellow alumnus from university. In the intervening years between graduation and now, my sire's been up to a lot of very productive things. Take her blog, Review Diaries. I was about to say for example. I wouldn't say for example. I'd say this is pretty big really. While I'm here babbling every which-a-way about all the geeky sci-fi things I love and occasionally talking about awesome books in a vaguely review-like context, she's been solidly reviewing all of the things she loves. And has become something of a big deal in the blogging circles for Young Adult publishing. So much so, she's made it into the top ten for a competition to become the new in-house blogger for Mira Ink Publishing.

Now, this is where we get to the substance of this ramble. Round two of the competition involves making a video, posted to YouTube, wherein the finalist explains what makes them so perfect to be the new voice of Mira Ink Publishing. In this very, very energetic video, Spike very awesomely explains why she is the best choice. To further convince the judges of this...well, this is where we need the good will of you, the gracious people of the Internet. Watch this video. Like the video. Share the video. Rinse and repeat. Ensure that your friends do the same thing. That random kid who walks past Ebenezer Scrooge's house in A Christmas Carol, make sure he does it too.

So there you have it. My sire is awesome. Help her prove it to the Mira Ink judges. Like and share the video. Pretty please!

Lastly, there's the Column B ramble. It's slightly sire related. For this, my sires are Thief and Dragon. And the GRRM Reaper himself, George R.R. Martin. You see, reading the Song of Ice and Fire and a lot about all of the awesome dragons, I actually found myself listening to the whispers of dragons in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. I found myself reading up more, investigating the game more and being very tempted to buy it.

Finally, last week, during Steam's autumn sale, I caved. I mean, Skyrim and both DLC add-ons for £26 when the non-sale price is £34.99. Pretty good deal. And now, as a result of this, I am incredibly addicted. Well, maybe not incredibly as instead of spending every waking moment playing Skyrim I'm babbling here, but hey-ho. I'm finding it to be a very compelling game. Don't know how far am I at the moment. So far, I'm a level eleven Dark Elf with a particularly speciality for burning things. What can I say. I like fire. It works for me.

That's the news from my end of the worlds so far. In summation, dear readers, I'm hooked on Skyrim and please, please help out my dear friend Spike.

Also, totally indulging in some old school music from the 90s. To whit...

(Song of the Mind: My Favourite Game - The Cardigans)