Narcissus' Modern Tragedy

Facebook profiles; LinkedIn memberships; Twitter and Instagram accounts. These are all tools that make us feel good, that inject that little bounce in our step and whisper that we are something special as we slug out of bed every morning. We like to track progress on these sites and places, make friends in them, share them with our real-life friends. But who for - the same self that consciously set them up for the purpose? In a world where each is out for his own, is the idea of being social really just of holding up a mirror to your own desires, and painstakingly claiming to the world that their fruits are already your own? In sharing, and over-sharing (and over-sharing some more), aren't we just the picture of Narcissus - falling in love with ourselves as we try to build a picture of who we are at all? The answer, it seems, lies in self-reflection.

Narcissus was a man who many considered foolish. Beautiful, but obsessed by his own image, he is a wise man's cautionary tale not to value your image above its worth. Yet in the modern world of selfies and ever-present screens of our own image, who would be today's wise man - Steve Jobs? Self-obsession is a concept accepted, even encouraged by many. The drive to self-promotion is encouraged - online articles tell us to know our worth, retailers to buy it, and celebrity culture to give everything up to achieve it. Being the person that everyone is looking at or following on Twitter is touted as an enviable position, never mind the stalkers at the gate. According to the modern fable of Kim Kardashian, one can promote oneself to the point of the ridiculous - and others will promote you in turn. Success, riches and a band of admirers can be all yours, for the low price of your own humility.

Western culture, of course, loves this dictum. In the eternal search for a constant happiness that doesn't exist, many people stand to gain: brands, corporates, politicians and the paparazzi (to name a few). The quest for fame can be as small fry as setting up your own YouTube following, and as large as creating your own Richard Branson-esque empire, complete with mirrors at every turn. No longer do you have to worry about the acceptance of others - you can buy it! Everybody loves someone that's always decked out in the latest brands and goes to the latest top places. Tag yourself in and you're away, amassing a largesse store of proof that you are more important than the person walking next to you on the street, who would never get past your phone screen anyway. You are smarter, more stylish, and what's more, you have a better image.



Nobody knows more about a good image than a PR practitioner - and hey, they're right to love it. Image really does sell. Have a brand that's perceived as a bit pansy? Enlist David Beckham as a sponsor. Selling cheap Chinese wares at ridiculous mark-ups? Make the styles the latest on the catwalk. Hawking an electronic gadget? Chuck an apple on the back of it. Biologically programmed to want to fit in (and sometimes be the Chief) in our own pack of Indians, many of us have the feeling that we're always being watched - and no, not just by the proprietors of the GCSB bill. We want to be at the top of the pack, not at the bottom, and if the saintly dollar can take us to the altar we'll pay in plastic-coated paper for the privilege.

If you're reading this, identifying, and feeling a bit embarrassed, I'm glad. We SHOULD be embarrassed. Would you crawl on your metaphorical knees for a romantic partner, your child, or your job? Dare I say that these things are more important than the images we slave away at, year after year, soaking up more time than we used to soak up watching TV twenty years ago? We are human because we have been given a beautiful tool, reason, and yet many of us would trade brains for beauty because beauty is revered in our culture. Realistically, how much time do you spend on your Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn? Could you have completed something truly good for your internal self-image - writing a book, training in a sport, socialising in the real world, in that time?

If there is a message to be taken from this little blogger down the south side of the world, it is this: image is useful, but only that - useful. It is useful in landing a job slightly better than the one garnered from your own talents, useful in attracting the opposite (or same) sex in a pub, useful in meeting and greeting people with a slight dab of lipstick. But that is its limitation - the rest is mere idolatry. Dare I say this from a digital tool, but it is time to lower the screen and look around you. Does everyone look happy in their own self-obsession? If you were truly interacting, wouldn't you be using more than the tips of your fingers to do it? Look and reflect on your self - not your self's reflection.

The Case for Impropriety

Sprawled on the sofa in one of those 'enlightening-Oprah' moments, my eyes scanned across a concept that managed to attach itself to the filigrees of my brain. 'Breaking open', it was called. Not to be confused with tips for burglary, the prising open of that damn-awful jam jar in the back of the cupboard, or coming out, 'breaking open' referred to the emotional opening of one's heart during a time of personal hardship. Yes, you, the currently non-emotional person wondering when this post will get to the funny bit. Believe it or not, this may concern you.

At the time, I thought, 'Wow, how beautiful" (read: how also irrelevant to me and my glorious future). But it appears there always is a time when one 'breaks open', spilling their tears and ill-considered beers on the public pavement. We are all human, we are all mortal, and, it seems, we are all embarrassing. Yet sometimes what we perceive as embarrassing - our times of humiliation, badly timed tears and bursts of anger - are actually the most interesting, the most valuable parts of ourselves that we have to offer. These are the times when we are truly real.

We all like to think of ourselves as real. "Oh, I say  what I mean", "There's no point in smiling when I'm not happy", and "I'll always tell you the truth" are all phrases we often hear ourselves saying. But in the face of the public, that all-judging public, would you be ready to bare your soul? Could you cry in front of your boss, rage in front of your grandmother's friend or outwardly despair at a professional gathering? Well no, you answer, of course not - it would be inappropriate to do so in each of those circumstances. Which comes the nexus of my next point: as real as we believe we are, we are often slaves to propriety. It is propriety which causes us to don those professional masks, conceal those dotted mascara lines charring our cheeks, and create a fake cheese for all to see. Propriety is our friend in many situations; but too much of it can turn it into our enemy.

Doris' Campaign Against Propriety

The part I find the most beautiful about this death of propriety, 'breaking open', is the sadness element within it. For much of our rage, unhappiness, or concern is really stemming from a bed of sadness. If you are in this place, or have been in this place (don't lie), you'll know what I mean when I say everyone can see it. The guy behind the supermarket counter can see it. Doris' nosy nose over the fence next door can see it. Unfortunately, new clients and industry-ites can see it too. They can see it not so much through a look in your eye or your body language as through a sixth-sense, some sort of anthropological left-over from when strangers used to care about each other. And the most beautiful thing about this sixth-sense - wait for it - is that is takes us back to that humane time. Strangers will help you, smile at you, open your car door and not make off with the rest. Breaking open reveals the best that humanity has to offer, at the time when a subject of humanity most needs it.

To close (how do you close an aspect of humanity?), breaking open is one of the best experiences life has to offer. Whether you've broken up from the love of your life, lost your house, are unsure of your identity, or have killed your career, there is a little piece of love left over for you. It's waiting behind the supermarket counter.

The Wrong Game

Kiwi Friendships: Loving People in a 'Stink' Way

Corrections, rectified statements, re-assertions. These are all hallmarks of the modern meeting, ways of marking down the opposition to maintain a professional superiority. Yet why does negativity have such a large part to play in the schoolyard of selected client relationships? Surely if you were after a great client-supplier relationship, as most claim they are, business emails would be filled with pleases, thank-you's, and best regard's. Yet beginning some business relationships appears to be the opposite of starting  personal ones. For some, the best way to yield a return is to 'frenemize': to keep the words pleasant but the tone derogatory, jumping at the chance for ways to prove their superior knowledge and quick wittedness (and yes, this does mean for many Kiwis a great friendship is made of derogatory words with a pleasant tone). Really, it is about being on the right side of the (who is more) wrong game.

Professional attire and sombre colours, I think, reflect this mentality too. It is hard to be wrong if you are dressed in grey, but easy to be a bimbo if wearing hot pink. Being safe goes a long way in these kinds of relationships, as does tampering with those recessive OCD genes your Aunt Nelly had by checking, re-checking, oh-wait-rechecking again, checking just-in-case, one last time. Which, of course, is all part and parcel of being professional, and doing a great job in whatever you put out to the world. Of course we all want to achieve perfection, and are especially paranoid about that contact report after a few too many Mocconas. This is not the problem. The problem is the jump to attack on the slightest of mistakes, the type where you can visualize the respondent's Cheshire-cat face licking its lips as if you were a Christian thrown to the lions. It is all very evil, and it is all very ouch.

Your Email Had A Spelling Mistake

The question for today is: do business relationships really have to be this way? Do snarling sent emails really inspire perfection and competition, or do they ignite low self-confidence and second-guessing in the recipient? You could say that depends on the type of person; but are there really people in the business world as there are in our personal lives, in that sense of the client-supplier relationship? Aren't many personalities dulled down, squeezed to fit, custom-suited for the boardroom, a bunch of humans with logo-esque faces? If so, depersonalization could have a lot to answer for in the catty client meeting. 

Perhaps, at the close of day, it all comes down to frantic funding. Monsters are made of money, which complicates any relationship. Throw a tight budget into an already tense relationship, the antithesis to your beautiful and friendly ones, and you have a certain word beginning with a b. But isn't that just life? When it comes to cash concerns, haters gon' hate.

Word of the Day: Roundelay

Power ballads might have cheesy connotations, but we all know it's the only music we'd be embarrassed in the shower for. Pick who you like; a bit of Adele, Gaga or Aretha will earn you no respect in the karaoke booth - but it's only yourself you're trying to impress anyway, right? Today's word of the day is a tribute to what ballads are not: roundelays, or short, simple songs with refrain.

There is something to be said for the short, simple song that packs a lot of punch. Not all songs have to be sung a la Christina or Mariah (for the good of the general population, it is indeed imperative that the majority of us try not to sing them this way). Indeed, simplicity is such a memorable and beautiful tactic in so many disciplines that is hard to see why anyone would try so hard to complicate things. Yet if there weren't awful complicated songs, there would be no respite for them, and perhaps no American Idol. The world would suffer.

Or would they?

Word of the Day: Dimidiate

Guilty/not guilty. In love/not in love. Employed/not employed. Why does the answer have to always be one or the other? The world is split in half by those who think in white or black, or 50 Shades of Grey; just like our Word of the Day, dimidiate, or split in two.

The idea as to whether there is an absolute truth in any situation is always a complex one. Ask it: emotions get riled up all over the show, especially if you ask it in relation to personal truths. Does the fact that a philosopher was a Nazi unquestionably affect the merit of his ideas? Is cheating acceptable or not? Is it socially acceptable to politically segregate people based on their sexuality? General answers will be complex and subjective; but the fire behind the answers is not.

Why, when we finally agree on something, do we not have the fire inside us to fight against it?

You can't run a country like a business.

Word of the Day: Cinquecento

Sundays are the days that roll around like its sleepers in the morning, stretching out feelers for things to do. A lazy day, Sundays sometimes demand that you add a little spice in your life - being the only day that most people truly have free. The question is: what can add value? For those feeling the fat fastening to their middle regions, a trip to the park might be in order. For the foodies, a trip to the latest-reviewed restaurant. For the rest of us feeling a lapse in the cultural side of things, a museum or gallery fits the bill. Musing along the hallowed hallways of many a tormented soul, we can bring home sights and words that delight our dinner guests and give us an elegant edge. Words like our word of the day: cinquecento: an Italian style of art or artist of the 16th Century.

For those readers who believe they are above visiting a place to add to their image, I would love to believe you. Do you tag yourself in eateries or clubs, become lured by labels or price tags, or have the use the exact cutlery for the cuisine you are crunching? Yes, most people are unknowing casualties of consumer culture. Yet, I'm sure most of us would still agree on wishing we were in the 16th Century in the face of what some channels perceive as Italian art, these days.

Jerseycento just doesn't have quite the same ring.

Word of The Day: Galvanic

As science fiction turns reality with the advent of the first artificial minds, our thoughts naturally turn towards the robotic. These clean, mean, steely machines could be the future of the human race. They know how to use a search engine, can already do much administrative work, and share our unexplained penchant for lolcats. Perhaps our days of boring admin are over. Or, we could just roboticize parts of ourselves, voluntarily. Today's word of the day is galvanic: of, or produced by, electricity.

Living our lives in a galvanized way is already true in many ways; the internet, phones, payment processors and other comfort-inducers are already doing the leg-work. Robots are gaining a cool factor that they've always maintained, but which, like a flattering and tacky fashion trend, reaches consumer peaks every ten years. Making robot-esque human dance music, inducing robot sweat-shops and printing out your own 3D objects are just some of what is in store. It all seems innovative, but a little geeky. Then again, who said the robotic can't be sexy?

Gives you something long and hard to think about.

Word of the Day: Cucullated

You are walking down a shadowy alleyway; you know you shouldn't be there at this time. Your bag clenches, like your fist does, at the thought of someone taking it away. News stories of murder and theft flash across your mind. Could you be today's victim?

The soles of your shoes sidle along the path when you hear the steps behind you. Quick steps. An unclean smell washes across your senses and you realize something is amiss. A shadow of a hood is following you. The steps quicken and snatch! he's away. You shudder in disgust, fear, pity of yourself. Who, what, how did this type of person come to be? He is at least one thing: today's word. Cucullated: shaped like, or covered with, a hood.

To me, a cucullate sounds more like a type of shellfish you might eat at a popular deli. I imagine it pink with a popping shell, something someone might bring up in a conversation or home menu without really knowing what it is. Here is a photo of a cucullated Justin Bieber. Do you think the word could have a double meaning?

Happy fishing, possible cucullates.

Word of the Day: Clangour

Your colleague types loud and fast, mimicking a machine gun. A careless driver swerves in front of you, causing a ding and profanities to be hurled outside your car window. As you take a detested saucer out underneath a pile of detested saucers belonging to your mother in law, they crash to the ground. Whoops. Today's word is clangour: a succession or prevalence of clanging noises.

The great thing about clangour is that it can be used metaphorically with great passion. Nagging, bad singing or an annoying, talkative companion are all clangour-esque. To the educated viewer, the picture below epitomizes societal clangour, but is masked as Hollywood celebrity.

I wish you a day free of clangour and the clangour-esque. Especially if you are hungover.

From Vulture to Eagle: The Evolution of a Networker

Everybody has to start from the bottom. Whether it's the bottom of a ghetto or the bottom of your rich dad's connections (no pun intended), it's usually not a place where your credentials are widely known. So how do you place yourself in a context where the right people are aware of your talents? Some would say the answer is networking. Attending events, sipping wine, having boring conversations where your eyes light up at carrot-dangled opportunities are some of the perks of this lifestyle. But aside from looking the part, what is it you need to do at these events? What is the meaning of 'schmooze' (assuming it's not a combination  of 'shock' and 'booze')? Are you single and ready to mingle, or just hovering around the pringles?

The Event Table: To Chip or not to Chip?

A great way to describe  the networking scene is by relating it to birdlife. It's about becoming an eagle without turning into a vulture.

Entering the room at an event, you will see  a certain species emerge from behind the bushes of the toilet or nearby smoking area. These are the sparrows: they fit in and do not stand out hugely from the scene. They may be well connected with other sparrows, forming a small sparrow community. They like to hover in groups and get private drinks whilst surveying the scene.

Next to the sparrows, or at least in one group of them, are the albatrosses. Albratrosses are exceedingly well connected and have their wings across every ocean. They are also quite noticeable after a few events, and other birds often say good things about them. They are usually pleasant to deal with and smile a lot.

The Vulture: Ready to Swoop on Free Drinks and Business

 Across the room in a corner, or perhaps negotiating a business deal, are the pigeons. Pigeons may be good for business or they may not; often with a pigeon one finds out they didn't pay their staff or sexually harassed a sparrow. They are often two-faced to albatrosses and may have a past as a C-list celebrity. A pigeon is at most risk of turning into a vulture.

Ducks also feature in the scene. Ducks are the most humble and real of the networking scene, and often do not tweet or praise their talents. They are often very successful and live out West or on Waiheke Island, using 'aye', 'bro' or 'mate' to liaise with their fellow colleagues and birds.  They will hover around the food table without abandon and are quick to praise others.

Peacocks are always rife at such a networking scene. They are often boring to talk to but are fawned on by others as they look fabulous or have a fabulous life. Other peacocks that are not so good looking are loud and flamboyant, ruffling their professional feathers with decorum. Their personalities are much better and they are likely to tell jokes and be drunk at functions.

Well, Aren't You Something Special?

Kakapos are also present, but not as often. Kakapos are artsy and rare in the scene, truly valuing great work without the commercial ideas behind it. If you are looking to get the business of a kakapo, talk about their glittering brooch or 40's hairpin rather than your professional talents.

But what of eagles and vultures? Well, Eagles are the CEOs who know it: smiling, confident, lint-free individuals who watch the rest with attention. And the vultures? Well, they are the ones that are most likely to try and look like  an eagle, but are without grace and an air of success. It takes two seconds into a conversation with a vulture to ask for a business card, ask your position, or talk about their own business. Other birds, it seems, will try and develop a relationship first.

So what is the art of networking? Well, there is no art in particular - it depends where you want to fit. The best networkers fit amongst most of the categories, because they are themselves and not a category. They are called the pioneers. And isn't that where we all want to be?

The Reason Why We Tell Stories

Behind even the smallest encounter is a story. This may sound like a large call to make, yet psychology would vouch it as true (well at least the majority). Since identity has become so important to us in this reign of the individual, we need a story to verify our own existence. Are you sophisticated? Prove it with the coffee you drink. Are you ethical? Prove it by donating to a charity, or helping an elderly person cross the road. Witty? Find things in the news that are both funny and intelligent. The ways in which we 'prove' our identities, often through activities we already like doing, structure even the smallest details of our everyday lives.

 The problem with telling stories is that there is often a very fine line between a story and a lie. 'Telling stories' is, in fact, the wording for telling lies (just put in a much nicer way). Yet telling stories is what we rely so much upon in everyday decisions. Which shampoo you buy is very much dictated by who you think you are (are you thrifty, girly, would you even buy your shampoo from the supermarket?). So are general acts of kindness, or driving habits, or search terms; and, one could argue, even the fact whether there is a decision to do something at all (after all, these things might not apply to your life narrative at all).

Furthermore, your identity in your life story often seems to fit into one prescribed by society. The terms you would use to describe yourself are cut out for you - nerd, narcissist, drop-out, handsome - and all rely on societal norms anyhow. And yet, all of us want to be individual. We try and fight the restrictions placed upon who we can and can't be. Nevertheless, these societal 'stories' are the tools which others use to place us in their stories. Categories of stories help people know where other people 'fit'. Which leads you easily to the question - are our whole lives just a bunch of stories? Or, to put it harshly, a pack of lies?

 This may seem a highly strung question for a Thursday morning (I would agree with you). Yet in a world where no one actually knows what the real deal is (unless you are religious or religiously-scientific), lies are what you cling to. It is really up to society to deem your life story, or you, as authentic (remembering that you, too, are an actor in that society). These narratives that we use to make sense of the world are the only things that make sense. They are external and they are real - you can grab on to them, blog them, remember them with photos, have them re-told to you. You can make up your own authenticity; after all, who is to prove that any of the stories are objectively true? They are all released into the current frame of who you think you now are, or who you want to be.

The most common desired life narratives are picked up by marketers and advertisers, who insert their products into the way you live your life. If you can use a brand of toothpaste or drink a brand of tea every morning, then that too is part of your (at least external) identity. Life stories are developed much before the time you could write an autobiography: they are persistent in your persistence to repeat the same things over and over as life rituals. Psychologically, we are built to love rituals - they help our mental health. And so we become, increasingly, what we do, but also what we buy, as a reflection of what we desire. Whether or not we are conscious of it, we are all authors of at least our own existence, pencilling down the grittiest of details for ourselves to see.

 So what does all this matter, really? Well, it just makes you more aware that much of what sells today is really bottled familiarity and desire. The objects we want, and crave, are those that we believe will help us get that little bit closer to the person we want to be (whether consciously or not). Even negating buying is part of this; your ability to not buy is a part of you believing you are a person that would not be 'sucked in'. The things you use everyday, in this way, are not so much tools as objects of memory - objects that remind you of what you are aspiring to become, where you've been and maybe even a bit of  past sentimentality in-between. As humans are already anthropologically connected to possessions in ways not fully discovered, that daily mirror you use could indeed be a cultural reflection of you. You, at least, branded.

Awkward or Just Uncomfortable?

We've all had an experience, particularly as Kiwis, that is awkward. It might be something as simple as deciding who goes next in a line, or having to butt in on a conversation. It might go a little further and involve frenemies or exes in out of context places. Maybe someone's sprung you doing a flash 'n' dash down the hallway? Whatever it was, it was a defined moment, and it was awkward.

Girl In The Middle: Awkwardness Exhibit A

 My question today is: what is the essence of awkwardness? So many varied situations can be awkward. Sometimes a potentially awkward situation is glossed over by a great sense of confidence or troubleshooting at the time. Sometimes you are awkward and others aren't, or vice versa. Is awkwardness derived from your moral values, or personal upbringing, or brought about simply by waking up on the wrong side of (someone else's) bed? Most of the time, it seems increasingly hard to tell.

To bring an awkward (out of context) dictionary definition into the play, awkwardness is defined as three things:

Something or someone causing difficulty in your life; e.g.  an awkward-moving shopping trolley, or bringing a friend that doesn't socialize well to a party

Causing easy embarrassment or inconvenience; e.g.  seeing one of your parents flirt with bar staff at a family restaurant outing

Not smooth or graceful; e.g., tripping whilst trying to look desirable in front of someone you may like to procreate with

The Duck Pout: A regular fixture in awk-sexy pictures

The thing that stands out about these three definitions of awkwardness is that they are really not that varied. Awkwardness is really just being uncomfortable in a situation. Your chances of feeling uncomfortable have strong links to self-esteem and introversion, which explains why people with these traits find reasons for not talking to others. They're not used to socializing, and so socializing is unfamiliar, and thus uncomfortable. Maybe they've had a bad situation they're reminded of which makes the experience uncomfortable. Inexperience creates unfamiliarity which begets awkwardness.  Or, you'll just always find it strange to see your dad trying to get it on with the waitress.

For the things that we can change, namely our side of social interactions, it seems there is only one solution: get yourself out there. Face the embarrassing situations. You may find, after all, that they're not actually that embarrassing (or maybe what's embarrassing is your feeling embarrassed which leaves other people feeling awkward). Make your conversation as available as the dole to a bush stoner. Maybe then conversation will smooth over all that is awkward on that graceless morning after.

Hunger for The Hunger Games

Every so often a movie comes out that is a cult sensation. Sometimes these are critic-worthy, sometimes not. But what is worthy in all of them is their popularity, and what that has to tell us about the values of our culture. Why, for example, are vampires suddenly sexy? Why the burst of psychocrime shows on main channels? What is it about law dramas that excite our interest? Because all of them are popular, and for the most part, profitable. Something within them touches a cultural nerve.

This is the mindset from which I approach The Hunger Games. For while the film appeals to basic instincts such as survival and family loyalty, its popularity has reached levels past reasonable expectations. The highest grossing film in NZ for this year by far, its success in the US and abroad has been put down to great reviews. Yet, paid or unpaid, the great reviews too had to come from somewhere. The modern consumer is often smart enough to smell fabricated praise, whether by use of language or the mere site on which false love is published. Instead, I propose that The Hunger Games is a great amalgamation of trends and themes we're running across for 2012. Some we have reached, some are in the works overseas and are running off current loves. All are relevant in the question of what makes a blockbuster, and its underlying question of what indeed makes something an icon of cult culture.

Andre Pejic: Taking Androgny to New Levels

Cross-Gender
This is a theme that has been widely attributed to The Hunger Games' success. Cross-gender here is not transsexual, or the sexual offerings at 2am on K Road, but rather androgny. Androgny has been running through fashion for some time, making headlines through the usage of dual-sex models such as Andrej Pejic. Wear boyfriend jeans, long blazers or brogues to work? Know men that wear cardigans? You have been swept away by the andrognynous trend, too. Celebrities, just like they do with any trend, have also been catching on, most notably Tilda Swinton. In Hunger, this cross-gender theme is best dsisplayed in the khaki gear all the 'players' wear and the disruption of gender stereotypes, such as Katniss' skill as a hunter.

Trilogies: Successful or not?

Book Trilogies
This is a trend that has also been underway for some time, most popularly deployed in Harry Potter, Twilight, and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. The audiences most likely to watch The Hunger Games would be anywhere from 10 to 30 - a generation (Y) which has been weaned on trilogies and their cult status in marketing. In the face of virtual gaming, parents often see movies sprung from books as a good way to get their children to read more - the result being that the main story is often encouraged. Trilogies also offer a long period of interest and maintain audience hype, making them attractive offers for publicists. The Hunger Games is only the first in a trilogy of three, which will no doubt  be released with substantial time lapses for extra revenue.

Reality Show Humiliation
The humiliation endured by the characters in Hunger is not a new phenomemon - since the rise of reality shows at the turn of the millennium, producers have been looking for more and more laughs to keep audiences. Shows like The Moment of Truth, where contestants ruin their personal lives for a few thousand dollars, are  examples of humiliation-earning ratings. The humiliation theme crosses many other aspects of reality-show life: dating (The Bachelor/ Bachelorette, Beauty and the Geek), personal appearance (I Used To Be Fat, The Swan, 60 Minute Makeover), sports and athletics (Survivor, The Amazing Race) and intellect (Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader). The gaming aspect of most of these shows is attractive in a generation addicted to instant gratification, offering a part both for the voyeur and the fame-hungry. The Hunger Games realizes this humiliation through the upper society's control of the game and the usage of cameras.

The Moment of Truth: Humiliation Made Public

 Apocalypse
One could argue the theme of apocalypse is centuries old - but, just like fashion trends, it is one that resurges at peak times. Apocalyptic themes are booming not just in movies such as Twilight and Avatar but in the news, too, with the Mayan calendar's looming date shadowed at the end of the year. Debate has been lively around this, boosted by riots and mini-wars across the globe as leaders topple and societies revolt. This film, although not actually about the end of the world, invokes apocalypse through the potential end of the contestant's world, the upper society's control being that of a Creator, and the struggle to death at the end.

All of these are just a few of the trends Hunger relates to; but you can see the power they have in making a success of a production. Produce what people are interested in and you've tapped desire. Produce what is relevant to people and you've made it interesting. Combine the two together with  trends in fashion and consumerism and you've got something intellectually and emotionally interesting that is cool.

Let the Hunger Games begin.

Undercover Critics: Degas and Dali

Some days you feel like you wouldn't mind a little more art in your life. These are the days that you go to the gallery. Dressed in simple, casual wear with an accessory that shows you are of 'the art pack', you cruise down in an understated, purposeful way, as if this is something you do all the time. You've been to plays, theatre acts, local exhibitions - never mind that was a couple of years ago whilst you were still at uni. You appreciate the craft of acting - on Home and Away. Going to the gallery is just supporting your love and local passion for the love of art - right? And so this same conversation plays, it seems, in the heads of 85% of the people visiting the exhibition with you.

Red Tree FB Profile Pic: The Real Reason People Go To The Gallery

 This was the reality of an exhibition I saw a couple of weeks ago called Degas to Dali. I should've known before I set foot in the place that this would happen - it is a  exhibition about the history of Western art, a topic that people love to relay information about at the dinner table, along with philosophy and politics. Somehow, by knowing the place where Van Gogh did his first famous painting, or being able to recognize a stroke of brush as this or that 'ism',   you can jump a couple of places in the class queue.

The great thing about exhibitions is that they provide most of that info to you - if you are patient enough to read the plaques. All you need to do then is fill in the blanks. And so, amongst a flurry of scarves, berets, and OE-inspired accessories, you find yourself wanting a quiet space but instead being engaged in a sophisticated sizing-up of the competition. What might seem a low hum of comments is actually a war of sublety, of who can pass what witty comment at the appropriate moment.

A Typical Art Gallery War Scene

 Personally, I put this phenomenon down to New Zealand's Tall Poppy Syndrome. For surely if we were allowed to toot our horn we would not need to go to the gallery to do it. Quiet in decibels, many of the exhibition's elements screamed self-recognition and hopeful praise. Neon belts yelled for style. Red lettering screamed designer desire. Scarf wraps egged on education. So many minute details, so little formal recognition. Cascading chatter bumped on keywords like 'Impressionism', and 'Japanese print', but no bossy art critic lauded his views to the gallery masses. So much for all those hours they must've spent listening in art classes and trawling creative sites.

But why write such a lengthy account of what is, at best, a two-hour experience? Because it's just another little gem that I've found of New Zealand culture, along with our being unable to form lines and cheering at the last moment. Turns out that so many of us are brilliant but have no way to foghorn out our talent. And when we do want to, at the art gallery, it's as mice-men, quietly nibbling away our rough edges and placing a foothold in modern culture.

Impolite Delight

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past 20 years, you'll know we've been living in an age of technological excuses. Wearing an IPod means you didn't hear the fire bell. Having a smartphone means you can check emails during meetings (or, among the slack of us, play Words With Friends). Having three computers at your desk, each angled for wider screen viewing, means that you don't have to interact with people anywhere within an 180 degree visual radius. They are good excuses, and they tend to let people off the hook for a number of social crimes. Was he ignoring you? No, he just didn't hear you. Not returning your emails? Spam filter. And the list goes on.

 The secret to all of this technological blocking is, of course, that most of the time people aren't actually occupied. They just want to seem occupied. For those of you reading this that think you're above dock-blocking, I ask you to look deep into your soul and ask: Have you pretended to text someone whilst avoiding someone you know on the street? Perhaps unplugged one earphone out of your ear to listen to someone, only to turn up the music a little when the conversation got boring? Yes, I know you have - not to mention the 'not available to chat' functions on Facebook and Gmail. You see, it's human nature - and with technology it's just far too easy an opportunity to pass up.

But what is the real problem with dock-blocking, you ask? Since when did we have to be available 24/7 to any old acquaintance you've added on Facebook (especially when you've only added some to stalk their pictures)?

I hear you. I've had the same dilemma myself. Perhaps there is some etiquette, just like there would be with any other social phenomenon, that needs to be applied. Social media sites could easily bypass some rules around not ignoring people. Emails - well, it depends on whether it's work-based, whether you know the person, how much legitimacy the subject carries. Face-to-face interactions are really the sore point of distraction here - it is a rather decaf, and resentment-inducing, task to talk to someone living half-screen, half-reality.

Since multitasking has been outed as particularly inefficient,  perhaps the idea is to live a little more in the less-pixelated, more natural atmosphere; to love and leave the IPhone; to recognize the dead-end of Words with Friends. For though we shouldn't be expected to respond to everyone, perhaps the question has now reversed: since when were our responses not expected?

A little Friday food for thought.

Descending From The Dead

For those who are interested in a bit of small-cinema production, George Clooney's newest film The Descendants might be on your hit list. Featuring Gorgeous George and enough of Fiji to chase away those autumn blues, it may seem the perfect anecdote to the end of summer.

 The Descendants, however, is a bit more than you would expect with your average Choc-Top. A refreshing change from cliches and a new surge of mindless-Naughties-movies, its stand-out point is that its main character is in a coma. Yes: a coma. Mouth open and ungraceful, mother-of-two Elizabeth King (Patricia Hastie) is a centrepoint for all emotion, past happenings, and, in the case of this film, discovered secrets. Her skin pales as those around her flush with anger and excitement, chasing down her past in neighbouring islands and cursing her misdeeds.

 Some who have watched the film may disagree that Elizabeth is the main focus; after all, there is much acting work devoted to the screen by Clooney and the two daughters he reconnects with. Yet the way the film is structured is much like an autobiography - it appears to be about the person who speaks (or writes) but is really an account of how other people have influenced them. In the case of The Descendants, this autobiographical form is played with: it is not about the main actors, plural,  but about the one actor who cannot speak. In this way, all the other actors speak for her silence; whether they are friends, family, or just people who knew her, her presence and now quasi-presence affects them all.

 In addition to this interesting film dynamic, there are some other winning qualities of the picture. The way in which it is shot is relaxed and realistic; spit between people's teeth and terrible Hawaiian shirts are no problem for this piece. The disconnectedness of the family is also well played out - evident but not over-dramatized. The best feature, by far, would have to be the sustainment of awkward moments, which grip the nerves in mysterious ways.

So, was it good? Sure. I certainly enjoyed it. Just another one to muse over a coffee to at your local independent.

Top Tips to Stop Tearing Your Hair Out: How To Make the Everyday Exciting

Boring. Banal. Usual. Nothing to write home about. These, even in the most high-powered jobs (probably more so in the  case of high-powered people, since they made the climb) describe work that we have to do, but don't particularly want to. The little tasks. The hard yards. That mathematician-friendly-looking spreadsheet, or project you just never seem to get right. Again: the boring bits.

Gaaaaah....A dictionary-entry of a mis-spelt word.

Thankfully, as we are all such diverse creatures, not all the things that bore us are the same. I happen to be a fan of editing spelling mistakes and spread-sheeting my life. There are people out there who love cleaning, maths equations, programming, or tracking the progress of dust over a year in a contained environment. These are the people that save us the hassle of doing something we hate. And, as shown by my loves, most of us have a secret passion for something nerdy that is akin to a guilty pleasure - never coming out of the closet, but there to aid the rest of society. It's just  as well we do - after all, just like rubbish truck drivers and public bathroom cleaners, someone's gotta do it.

The love of lustreless, laggardly tasks is what I would like to use as an inspiration. Surely, if we can be interested in watching the Jersey Shore cast members spray-tan, amateurs cook and experts re-do badly renovated homes, we can find motivation to get the tasks done that we have to do anyway. The fact that these things are perceived as boring is besides the point: it is the fact that they are presented in an interesting way that makes them seem worthwhile. If the insight here is that the quality of x being interesting is that it is perceived as being so, then we can warp our own brains to make dull things dapper, The Matrix-styles. Take these tips as your dose of activity acid for the day.

How to make common things cool: a style guide.

1. Make up a war-style fight between the topic/object and its main competitor/enemy. Believe it or not, margarine's nemesis is butter.

2. Go on fan sites for the topic/object. There are nuts for everything in the webisphere, and their enthusiasm is contagious.

3. Find awards for the 'thing' in question. For example, if you are doing a project on watching paint dry, find the Guinness World Record for the person who did it for the longest.

The Proverbial Ball in Action

4. Find a spoof of the item/topic on YouTube. People posting videos know it the best.

5. Ask someone what they like/hate the most about it the item/topic. It will give you a new perspective on why you think as you do.

6. Get inside the mind of the object/subject's creator. Stalk their habits and have a look at their spouse. Once you know why the subject/item was invented, you can perform your tasks much better, too.

Six steps for someone who has a spare minute, or maybe a few more (myself). Just another way to keep the old proverbial ball-rolling.

The Myth of a Naturally Ordered, Organized Life

This week I thought it was time we covered a banal topic (as if public toilets weren't enough). A boring, organized, completely unspontaneous topic - and why are we reading this again, you ask? Well, because it concerns you, and a little myth called naturalized organization.

We all know one -  an organized, orderly person whose personal lives run to the same tune as an office would. The catch - some of them never appear as if they are running their own lives at all. There's no snippiness when a coffee date is cancelled; they never seem to double-book engagements; no frown lines or stress veins ever impinge the peacefulness of their face. Hell, they might even dress like a bohemian and practice yoga (maybe therein lies the secret?). The surprise at  their orderliness is not that it is there, but that it is there outside of work hours. It appears to occur organically, as if a person naturally organized during the week just reaps the benefits of such timeliness in the weekend.

Bohemian: The Attire of the Effortlessly Organized Person

Yet the week and the weekend, it seems, are such different realms of socialization. Monday arrives and your voice carries responsibilities of things you must get done; tasks you must wrap up; people you must appease. It's ok for your voice to change in these circumstances because everybody else is the same: they all have a job to do, and it's nothing personal. The weekend, though, is of such a different timbre: casual, relaxed, full of silliness and funny mistakes. If there was ever a time to be called a 'hardout', it is definitely within the frame of the weekend. Time becomes flexible; losing a half-hour here or a half-hour there is really not a cause for disdain. You don't call before 11am. Cafe menus and idle chatter becomes the centre of the world. If anything, the weekend is organized around anti-organization, structured so that no structure can firmly hold it in place.

A face of calm, secretly masking explosive anger

During a weekend structured on a lack of structure, where does the effortlessly organized person come in? Well, that's where the mystery still lies. For surely someone who is organized during the week would be annoyed at someone wasting their time in the weekend? And surely the most lax of people would be annoyed at someone preaching organization during sacred weekend time? Perhaps the effortlessly organized person is a compromise between the two, between respect for personal time and respect for the sanctity of the weekend. As Kiwis, we know that the weekend is most definitely sacred.

In lieu of a simple answer around the organically organized one, I will treat this post as an ode to those that fit the description. Because, really, you make our weekend world go around. Organizer of get-togethers and quellers of arguments, you make things happen in the weekend without being annoying. Although this sounds rather simple, considering the extremely different realms of week and weekend (and the range of people dealt with), organizing weekending people is not always an easy feat. Ease and effortlessness always ensures an entertaining end.

Blessed Stressedness

The tingles arise. The palpitations start. A small bead of sweat runs over a popped forehead vein. It's that enemy we all know: stress, with its unattractive mystique, fast-talking personality and sudden fits of rage. You know when it's coming - it lets you know hours, even days before. And you certainly remember the time it lays its unwelcome head on your welcome mat. No amount of yoga meditation can help you now.

But what if stress was our undercover friend, a kind of frenemy? Maybe its sweaty-palm odour was really a guarana-infused aroma, bettering our lives. Perhaps it was a form of protector, alerting you to a 'run vibe' with rapists, putting up red flags on your bad date, letting you know when someone from work was a little disappointed with your efforts. It may be that friend that gives you a swift kick when you're letting yourself down, especially in a hungover hemisphere. It wipes the smeared mascara off your face after a bad day, leading you reluctantly back to Excel. It might even give you a little kick at the gym after that myriad of coffees, in order make that tush a little tighter. What was the reason it was supposed to be bad again?

Lactose Intolerance: When Did It Become Cool?

Of course there will be stress disorders. But these don't affect the average person, whomever that is (unless of course you're one of those lactose-intolerant, 'shopping-addicted', semi-employed chihuahua types). Stress is a friend to be sat in like an uncomfy chair. The more you are aware of the reality of the chair the more you hate it; however if you were to appreciate that it is holding you up more than your lax La-Z-Boy, you might come to adore its uncomfortable ways. It's like that bit too much chilli in your sandwich: it may be a pain but it certainly makes you aware (and similarly teary, at times). To be blessed with stress is to be aware of your surroundings, akin to swimming in a kind of crazy ch'i. Feeling semi-run over but alerted to all that is wrong in the world, you can make your own life better via your own caffeinated kick-in-the-guts.

To those currently holding a stress serum or smelling salts under the tongue, the message is clear: less stress is only a beauty therapy massage away. But perhaps it may be time to enjoy the rollercoaster that is your hormones and personal problems; perhaps as an ode to the frenemy that is clearly here to stay. Stressedness is blessedness, the tool of the powerful and the complaint of the weak.

Honoring the Humorous: How Jokesters Jump From Anonymity to Friendship in One Easy Line

This week is about paying tribute to that thing we all like to do: relax. Because, really, there are too many boring banalities in our lives already. Spreadsheets. Cleaning. Cooking (the hatred of which many of us are too ashamed to admit). Bank balances. Petrol stations. Threads coming off your clothing (which happens in a sadly large price range of clothing for our 'first-world' country). Much of life is really preposterous and painful, a thief of the nano-seconds of your time that you could be using to, say, watch Jersey Shore. Too many tetchy tidbits taking up your time really furrow that Botoxed brow.

Which is why we love those that create the more desirable of facial lines, the ones around the mouth. Not the haggardly smoker's ones, faintly reminiscent of the scrunch of a crispy wonton, but the jovial laugh lines so coveted in an accountant's office. The lovely people that create these lines are the jokesters. Pranksters. The naughty ones. The ones that think outside the box and will refer to yours without missing a beat. These are the ones that bring the joy into work lunches, the pissed into parties, the gossip into get-togethers. We all know a few, we all remember them. They make us feel a certain way.

The Unofficial Muse of the Smoker's Mouth

To be dry and insert an adage into a light piece of material, there is an Oprah-esque thought that fits in quite nicely here: 'We don't remember what somebody has said, but we always remember how they made us feel'. Whomever this anonymous asp is that slid into Oprah's good books was either talking about a good (or terribly bad) date, or a humorous human. Humour really is the feeling of relief we all need from whatever troubles we're having, place we're staying or person we're dating. Laughter is in itself memorable because it made you feel better; made your laugh a shriek in a quiet boardroom; helped erupt a not-so-subtle snort in the kitchen. A good laugh inserts activity in your own life regardless of who set it off. It leaves that little bit of gratitude for the guy who granted it, they the god of relieving the mundane.

A jolly jokester can win your heart in no time. A couple of cheap lines can make up for the lack of a couple of expensive ones in the bathroom, even for the most toxic of social groups. The guard is let down. The jest slides through without obstruction. A connection is made. And it always is astounding just how fast it is made, in comparison at least to the ant-like conversation of those without the tricks. The famous book 'How To Win Friends and Influence People' could be summarized in a few words: make people laugh. At least you'll see less frown lines because of it.