BenPaddon.co.uk

People seem to be naturally aversed to putting themselves out there to take criticism. Wait, let me rephrase that: I seem to be naturally aversed to putting myself out there to take criticism. It’s probably out of fear of someone saying, “It’s crap.” I’m also not fond of people saying to me “Here’s what you’re doing wrong…” because generally people do this in an incredibly negative manner.

Hats off to Michelle, then, for being brutally honest and somehow managing to sound positive while doing it. In an email, no less. Emails almost always come across as negative.

I learnt a fair bit about screenwriting when I took Media Studies in College, and everything else I learnt by just sitting down, reading every script I could get my hands on, and trying my best to absorb . This was Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Star Trek scriptbooks when i was a little younger, but thanks to the Intertron scripts for other things* have become available to me. Which is great.

Unfortunately I’ve picked up some bad habits over the past two years of writing Jump Leads in a screenplay format. I can be too descriptive at times, a side-effect of trying to ensure that JjAR knows exactly what I’m aiming for with the aesthetic of a scene or how a line of dialogue should be delivered. I didn’t even realise this had crept into my general writing until Michelle pointed it out.

At the recommendation of a few of my Twitter buddies I’ve invested in a couple of screenwriting technique books - “Save The Cat!” and “Making a Good Script Great”. The latter book looks a little suspect to me - I’ve a natural aversion to titles of that formula - but it comes recommended so I am at least willing to give it a chance. Michelle and David are also going to let me borrow a few books, which is exceedingly nice of them. When the world is mine, their deaths will be swift and painless.

Right, now back to the monotony of the Eight-to-Five Grind.

 

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* Aside: The forth Indiana Jones movie was great. “Was” as in “previously” or “used to be”. You should have a digabout for the script for Indiana Jones and the City of the Gods. If that script hadn’t been vetoed by Lucas we could have had a film which may potentially have surpassed Raiders of the Lost Ark as the best film in the series.

 

I think it’s an interesting question. I saw a lot of old friends while I was back in the UK, and I was surprised at some of the things I heard come out of their mouths. For example, one friend commented on the new Subway in the town’s Galaxy Centre that was still being fitted out when I arrived (it opened shortly before I left) and noticed there were a couple of Asian* lads waiting outside.

“They’re probably waiting for jobs,” he said. “They’ll probably get ‘em, too.”

I said nothing. I was shocked, but I decided not to comment. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard some kind of racially-motivated comment since I’d arrived. Walking into town, and walking around the town’s Mall, I’d heard all kinds of incredibly racist comments. There’s a lot of hostility towards the Polish emigrants who have been making Luton their home now for the past five years, for example**. Some people also still have a lot to say about the town’s Asian community, particularly the Asian youth who, you will be told by the people of Luton, are loud, abusive, and violent.

The racism doesn’t end there, though. Parts of the Asian youth of Luton seems to look down on white people as well. I’d heard a lot of racist comments coming from Asian lads, not just during the past two weeks but while I was living in the UK as well. I’d been the victim of what the Police chose to call “racially motivated assault” twice growing up in the town, and during my holiday I was attacked a third time as I walked from my Mum’s house to my sister’s.

Some of the white populous of Luton hates the Asian youth for being violent and aggressive. Some of the Asian youth of Luton hate the white for hating them, and so act out in a violent and aggressive manner. Do you see the problem here, perhaps? Are you noticing some kind of correlation?

I think it’d be dangerous to assume this problem is confined only to Luton, but at the same time it’s worth nothing that Luton has absolutely no redeeming qualities or features at present. It’s a Churn Town. People in Luton wake up, they go to work, they come home, they eat, they sleep, they repeat. II was doing the same thing while I lived there, and I had to escape. There’s no reason to stay there anymore. There is nothing in that town. There’s nothing for people to focus on besides living their lives.

So the people of Luton focus on the problems they think they have with the Polish, with the Asians, with the white people living there. They dwell on stuff like the Town Hall not flying the St George’s Cross on St George’s Day, but happily flying the Irish Flag on St Patrick’s Day. Because that is all they have. And when you have that many people focusing on small stuff like that, making mountains out of molehills, you’re watching a lit fuse slowly working its way down to the explosive.

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* For my American readers, Brits tend to refer to people of Indian or Pakistani descent as Asian.

** Interesting aside: When I still lived in England I once walked into town, and on my way an elderly white man stuck his head out of his car as he drove by telling me to “Go back to Poland.”I think I’ve blogged about this before, but I think it’s indicative of the racial problems Luton has - a white Lutonian man sees another white man and instantly assumes that he must be Polish.

Vincent came into work yesterday after spending most of the week suspiciously AWOL, bringing with him one simple command: “Look in the freezer.” A short walk to the kitchen later, opening the freezer revealed… well, nothing. That is, until Vincent put his hand in and pulled out a nondescript plastic bag. He handed it to me, and I immediately knew what the contents were. I peeled away the slightly stiff packaging (arf) and inside was the Ninth Doctor, still bound and gagged. He has since been returned to his rightful triumphant position on my work desk, but there are questions which still need answering.

For instance, how did Vincent know? He claims he was little more than “just the messenger,” but I’m sure he’s more than just a simple Pez Dispenser*. I might even be inclined to say that he’s the mastermind behind the entire thing.

I shall keep you all informed.

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* “Pez Dispenser” is a term I coined to describe any sort of job which adds an unnecessary component to a workflow. The thinking behind the term is this: Pez, those horrible yet somehow enticing fruit-flavoured candies, generally come with those horrible plastic dispensers in the shape of a cartoon character. The candy goes in and they can be dispensed by pulling the head back (apparently teaching kids that there are sweet rewards in store for breaking peoples’ necks). The thing is, you have to spend time and effort loading the candy into the dispenser before it can be, well, dispensed. It’s quicker, easier, and less of a chore to just eat the fucking candy and skip the dispenser altogether.

Euan has “redubbed” the latest PvP strip. I’ve posted it up over on SkyScraper, our collaborative writing blog. Enjoy!

I keep forgetting that my birthday is coming up. I know the date - of course I know the date - but it never quite clicks in my head that my birthday is coming up soon. I’ve already had a couple of cards, and I didn’t expect either of them. Probably because I forgot my birthday was approaching on both occasions.

That’s it, really. I think this entry is more or less to remind myself that my birthday is coming up. Lawks.

You may recall that way back in April I had to pop down to London for my medical. I had a lovely lady stick a bloody great needle in my arm and steal some of my vital fluids, although I don’t recall whether or not I was offered a lollipop by way of apology. I never understood why children are allowed lollipops, but grown ups aren’t. Heigh ho.

But anyway.

Before the medical, I’d passed the time by popping into a bookstore on Oxford Street and picking up an inexpensive book. The book in question was Yes Man by Danny Wallace, and anyone who has ever read the book or heard me talk about the book before probably knows where this story is going.

I’d started reading the book in London while waiting for my appointment. I then read more of it on the tube back to King’s Cross, and then a bit more of it on the train from King’s Cross to Luton. I read a bit more on the bus from Luton Train Station to my Mum’s home, and then a lot more that night. I plowed through the book in a couple of days, and when I’d finished it my outlook on life was irrevocably altered.

At the start of the book, which incidentally is a true story, Danny had broken up with his girlfriend. He’s stopped going out, stopped being sociable, and had largely kept himself to himself. That was more or less what I’d been doing when I broke up with Amy - I kept myself to myself, I didn’t go out or do much. Danny’s life was changed when a stranger on a bus offered the advice “Say yes more” quite out of thin air, for no real reason whatsoever.

So Danny did. He said yes to absolutely everything, from “Would you like sugar in your tea?” to “Buy our amazing Penis Patch”.

I won’t go into further detail about the book, but suffice to say I decided that I was fed up of saying No all the time, and I decided henceforth to start saying Yes again. I wasn’t going to take it to the extremes Danny took it to, but I was going to be receptive to new experiences, open to new ideas, and above all accepting of new opportunities.

In a way, the book is responsible for my contacting JjAR to see if he’d be interested in doing the art for Jump Leads. A friend, Bonz, had suggested I get in touch with him, and after seeing his artwork I’d wanted to. The old Ben wouldn’t have bothered, figuring he’d get a negative response, if any response at all. The new Ben, however, decided there was nothing to lose. So I said Yes, I’d email him, and he said Yes, I’ll do the artwork.

Behold, the power of Yes.

It’s long been established that I work on the same floor as a bunch of geeks, which is probably why I fit in so well. One minute I’m having a conversation with someone about Indiana Jones Mr Potato-Heads, the next I’m talking about Red Dwarf and Worms Armageddon. My boss and I have had lengthy conversations about The Orange Box, and another department head and I have been meaning to go head-to-head on Team Fortress 2 for a while now (as an aside, since picking up the 360 version of The Orange Box I have a revitalized appreciation for the PC version, which I’ve been neglecting lately).

However one of my co-workers did what is perhaps the geekiest thing ever at CES  the Microsoft Keynote speech this year. I tip my hat to you, good sir. You have out-geeked us all.

It’s getting late and my brain is shutting down, but I want to share a few things before I crash:

• Houston was fantastic. I went to visit a friend I’ve known for years but have never actually met face to face, so finally getting to visit her was incredible. I had a great time and her family is awesome.
• Major Nelson from Microsoft has been emailing me this evening and it looks like my problem will hopefully be fixed in the next few days.
• Aquent, the agency I’m with for my temp job at Disney, don’t appear to have sent me a pay cheque. Huh. I’ll call them tomorrow and find out what’s going on.

As much fun as I had in England visiting friends and family, there was this horrible feeling I couldn’t shake. It wasn’t anything to do with the people I was with, but rather it was about England, about Luton. It felt uncomfortable, it felt nasty, and it felt unsafe.

There’s an image most Brits like to have of Americans: by most Brits’ standards, Americans are generally loutish, selfish, intolerant and racist. I can’t speak for the majority of America but so far as California is concerned I’ve yet to see any evidence of this intolerance. It’s telling of British society today that within an hour of landing at Heathrow Airport and getting on a coach, someone shouted “Oi! Ginga!” at me, with the obligatory soft-Gs. it was, frankly, sickening. Another wonderful moment occurred during a walk into Luton’s town centre when someone who presumably thought I was Polish stuck their head out of their van’s window and shouted at me to go back to my own country. I remember feeling so angry about that.

British people also have this idea of the Stupid American, who has all the cognitive skills of a particularly unintelligent box of potatoes. Honestly, I think I’ve met and spoken to more dumb Brits in my time than I have dumb Americans. While the UK:US ratio is skewed (I’ve obviously met more Brits than I have Americans) I’m generally of the opinion that idiots exist everywhere, not just in one country. And the UK has plenty.

Now, I’m not trying to make this an Anti-Britain/pro-American thing. It isn’t. It’s more a look at the state of British culture. The intolerant manner I was treated by many in England is one of the reasons I left. No one here has thus far made fun of the colour of my hair. No one has thrown a beer bottle at me, or tried to mug me because I have ginger hair. Why it socially acceptable to do these things in England? Why is that? Why is it whenever a ginger-haired person is bullied, or beaten, or mugged, or mocked, simply because of the colour of their hair, they’re told to just get over it, or grow thicker skin.

Sometimes, I am very ashamed of my generation of Brits. Sometimes, in all honestly, I’m ashamed of Britain as a whole. Where did it all go wrong?

Yesterday was a good ol’ day. We went to the Griffith Observatory with my stepsister’s family to celebrate her husband’s birthday, and while I wasn’t particularly looking forward to the trip having woken up in a real funk, I actually enjoyed myself. At a risk of sounding like a poorly-written piece of PR, there really is a lot to do there. We didn’t get to spend as much time there as we would have liked, though, as we moved on to lunch fairly quickly.

After that, we said our farewells and went on to see a couple of flicks. First we saw Enchanted, which was very cute, exceptionally silly, and surprisingly enjoyable. While I’d wanted to see this film for a while, I will admit I had low expectations but I was quite surprised by just how much I enjoyed myself. The film’s outcome was predictable in the same way that a man eating a cake can predict that he’ll be left with an empty plate when he’s finished. He may have expected the cake to be gone, but that’s not to say he didn’t enjoy eating it. A ton of fun with some very ridiculous musical numbers that work alarmingly well.

Afterwards, we saw Dan in Real Life. Again, this was a film I really wanted to see but had low expectactions of, and again those expectations were met and exceeded several times over. It’s a really great drama-comedy with a lot of heart and some very real performances from a few people, including (rather surprisingly) Steve Carell and Dane Cook. Who knew they could act, eh?

I got back on Monday, and I’m still very jetlagged - that’s very nearly two solid weeks of jetlaggery under my belt. Way to go, Ben! It was great to see everyone again. I wish my mind were in a sufficiently coherent state to be able to assemble the memories of last week into something I can share with you all, but for now you’ll have to settle for “It was great to see everyone again.”

My copy of Rock Band hasn’t arrived yet. Grr.

Tomorrow I fly back to England for a week to visit my family, see my friends, and to celebrate my sister Teri’s birthday a week early (it’s actually next week, but if I had flown out next week it would have cost me a fortune - it’s Thanksgiving week). Apparently there’s a list of people as long as my arm (the list, not the people) who want to see me while I’m in the country. I’m hoping to arrange a night out with some friends, and I believe Teri’s planning a party of some sort.

I haven’t had any luck getting in touch with Westy, however. I’ve sent him several text messages but no reply. He hasn’t logged onto his embarrassingly designed MySpace account since early July, and the last time he logged onto Xbox Live was the day I flew out to the US. If you’re able to get in touch with him please do.

For those of you who read my blog and are concerned that Jump Leads might not be updating, worry ye not: Tuesday’s page is already queued to go up, and Friday’s page will probably be read either just before I fly out or not long after I arrive. At worst, it’ll go up onto the site a couple of hours late.