OTH vs OC

It is time now to discuss a question that falls under my favourite topic of conversation. TV shows. TV shows are my favourite mode of escapism. TV is like a book that does all the thinking for you. It takes you to a parallel universe where nothing is ever boring. Anyways....here is the ever-baffling question. Is the OC a better TV show than One Tree Hill?

The OC is about a rich white world. What initially catches your eye are the flashy clothes, the over the top jewellry, the mansions. And while the drama itself is pathetic bordering on stupid, the riches make you want to see more. Again, it is all about escapism. Who wants to know about a poor kids life when they can watch a neighbourhood of mansions and chanel?

On the other hand, One Tree Hill has beautiful people and none of them are the feel-like-slapping-her/him baby-face beautiful...like Marissa. Tree Hill is like a town full of Summers, with varying degrees of attitude. It also has a great deal of the most fundamental emotion that is severely lacking in the OC ; friendship. And sure, there are glimpses of the Seth-Ryan, Summer-Marissa friendships, but not nearly enough, and not with enough intensity. All the OC seems to be about are deaths, trauma and love affairs. One Tree Hill actually has a reasonable, if not great story-line. More importantly, it is centred around a basketball team, so if everything else sucks, there's always the scenes with the basketball games to make it interesting. The thing that OTH lacks, is finer touches. The direction, the cinematography, and in many cases, the acting leaves much to be desired.

So, does the good script, beautiful people and awesome basketball action beat the world of the rich and famous, good acting and direction and excellent music? It is an answer that I may never arrive at.

Illegitimis nil carborundum.

Don’t let the bastards get you down!

Depressed??

It seems to me that my generation seems to have sunk into inescapable self-made grey clouds of gloom. The clouds appear to be custom made to suit each individual; the colours of individual justification for low spirits may vary greatly, but the essential features of this "depression" seem to be mass manufactured. Here are some of my thoughts on why this is so.

I find it interesting that whenever a child draws a "happy" picture, it invariable contains a shining yellow sun, trees, birds and two or more people smiling...possibly holding hands. What it never contains are skyscrapers, cars spewing noxious fumes, and infact no sign of industrial development or any other sort of mechanization. At most, the picture may contain a cheerful brick house. I think that to the human mind, the drab shades of a metropolis represent complications, responsibilities, anxiety, and ugliness in every form; something that we all strive throughout our lives to escape. A large income provides us the means to create artificial serenity. It enables us to surround ourselves with the calming, invigorating colours and sounds of nature; the blue of the backyard swimming pool, the green of the front garden, chirping birds in the birdhouse hanging from the porch roof; the essentials of a natural environment while we still retain complete control. We strive to acquire money to be able to escape the ugliness that surrounds us because it dampens our spirits and gives us a discomfiting sense of foreboding. That's why people prefer the suburbs to the city.

The self-absorption of the me generation may also contribute towards "depression". Self-professed depression could merely be a way to grab attention. Alternately, it may be a way to confirm one's coolness. It is very unhip to show happiness, or to display emotion in any form. Again, it may be that depression is confused with outright boredom, something that seems to have gripped the present generation. What is interpreted as depression may simply be the widespread lethargy, listlessness, incompetence and total ineffectualness that seems endemic in the me generation.

A Mindless Conversation

Concience: Really! You have gone too far this time!
Me: What?
Con: An OC Marathon? You wasted 5 hours straight. You didn't even get up to pee. That kind of computer time is bad for you. BAD!
Me: Whatever. I'm gonna go get some icecream now.
Con: Now, if I was in imminent danger of losing my eyesight and the use of my brain, tell me how getting icecream would help me.
Me: It wouldn't. It would make you fat.
Con: WRONG. It would make YOU fat.
Me: Bitch.

The Colours of My Life

I haven't really written anything of note lately for which I do not apologise. For the past week or so I have had a horrible sense of foreboding, though I have no clear image of what may happen to me ( the things that can go wrong at this point and ruin my life are innumerable ). I felt like writing would only serve to heighten the feeling because the things I write about are usually so inconsequential. I think it also has something to do with the colour of my blog page. Blue, especially that shade, seems so calm and innocent. So much so that it mocks me. Yes, that has to go.

In other news, I have no other news. My life seems to have taken the semblance of a grey wall. There is of course the odd spot of red, a few dashes of blue, green and yellow, but these are conspicuously infrequent. Ah well, I suppose it's better than a wall of black.

On football. The enthusiasm boys have showed in the past for football seems to have escalated to near fanaticism. It's effects are pasted all over the web, newspapers, conversations and status messages. But what confirms my belief in the level of zealotry that has claimed boys is the fact that they seem to have replaced pictures of bikini-clad women with pictures of ... well, I don't really know enough to match most faces with names... soccer players. The entire male population seems to be consumed by World Cup Mania.

On family. My brother has convinced himself that he has abs. He infact treated me to an exclusive glimse of his "abs" which turned out to be .... his ribs. My sister insisted on joining horse-riding lessons again though she is scared of going faster than a slow trot. The rest of my family is not applicable for discussion the reasons being a) they are older than me and hence, have the power to punish me. b) I suspect they read my blog and while I am not entirely sure, I would prefer not to take a chance by releasing potentially lethal information.

I seem to have missed something out. No matter. It is almost certain that it is of very little importance and very probably mind-numbingly boring.

A quick conversation with my conscience...

Conscience: What are you doing on the net again. Get back to work.
Me: What work? I have no work.
Conscience: Word lists, records, bio tests...
Me: OK OK. Fine, I have work. I'll do it later.
Con: You said that and hour ago....and an hour before that..and..
Me: Later hasn't come yet, OK? Now leave me alone.
Con: I will just say one thing...mother.
Me: I HATE YOU!!!
Con: Likewise I'm sure. Now what are you going to do now?
Me: Get off the comp.
Con: Good. And then?
Me: Get some chocolate.
Con: ....OK. We'll work on that.

Random thoughts..

Who am I? ........ I'm Spiderman.

I LOOOOOVE GREY'S ANATOMY. Meredith and Derek are soooo cute!!!

I want Elliot Yamin to win American Idol.

Ten out of ten for a race already run
Bleeding the world cause you can't figure out what's wrong

So come back down from your daydream high
Lost for words when you sympathize
There's a million ways to believe you tried
Well I'm Unsatisfied

Unsatisfied
Just sick and tired of all I've tried
Unsatisfied

I hate grammar. Grammar sucks! ...and English is hard!

Misunderstood

As I was looking around for music yesterday, an interesting thought struck me. Most of the songs with so called meaningful lyrics were about depression, drugs and being misunderstood.

Firstly, I don't think dark lyrics necessarily qualify something as meaningful. I think lyrics based on the singer's experiences are meaningful..and they don't have to always be so morbid. It could be about love or the nice things in life.

Secondly, maybe its just me, but being misunderstood has become something of a fad lately. I guess it just satisfies rebellious feelings on some level. Makes us almost feel like we belong to a cult. The darkness, the gloom, just makes us feel....cool. While I certainly don't deny that there are artists whose lives are exactly as such songs portray, I am far from convinced that all of them are. This is just the kind of music that sells. That's why they make them. Likewise love songs.

Let me give you examples of songs that are based on life but not necessarily love or depression.
I'm never speaking up again by John Mayer is about an uncomfortable date. It's quite funny actually. Daughters by the same artist is about neglectful parents. Most of the Coldplay songs are quite astute. Photograph, which is immensely popular, is reminiscent of childhood.