Within Without Media. The 96 Hour Challenge. (Mass Communications Mid-Term)

First, an introduction…

For our Mass Communications mid-term, we were tasked with tracking our media usage for 48 straight hours. After those 48 hours, we had to cut it off and track what we did with the intervening time. This is a photo-essay of how I spent the majority of my time with and without the media at my fingertips. I hope you enjoy the 96 hour journey I embarked upon.

The first 48 hours of our Mass Communications mid-term. Tracking all media usage and the brain rot that ensues.

I chose this particular song because it illustrates excess and that’s what the constant media onslaught of this generation feels like. Excess.

Many hours were spent playing hack’n’slash adventure Torchlight II with two of my best friends from high school. We’ve been doing this for years, though mostly with Diablo II.

I may or may not look like this gentleman while gaming with friends. It’s hard to say, the glare of the monitor makes it hard to see any sort of reflection.

I spent six mind-numbing hours in front of a television screen. These are the shows I spent those six hours watching.

At times while watching t.v., I felt like this. Luckily, nobody I know is cruel enough to use the Ludovico Technique on me.

I spent five hours or so from here, Googling all the random crap my brain could handle.

Facebook, Twitter, GMail, Inherently Meaningless. After numerous hours spent wasted away on these fine services, it was almost time to cut it all off for the succeeding 48 hours.

The second 48 hours, time well spent enriching my mind… well, for the most part.

The perfect track for the cut-off point of media. It’s also ironic, so it should give you a bit of a chuckle.

At first I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was distraught, depressed. I thought to myself, I’m not allowed to use any form of media for 48 hours? Then a light-bulb went off in my head… I can drink the sorrow and turn it into brief happiness!

I may have had too much fun with all of that drinking.

Silas has no sympathies for hangovers. Early the next morning he had me up and we were playing in the yard. He was having a lot of fun…

After spending a few hours with me, Silas had clearly had enough.

So I decided I’d do some writing… two hours of it… I didn’t come up with anything good though, a bit of writer’s block. I got a lot of great material out of my psychology book though, as you can see here.

Then, to keep the good times rolling (see what I did there), I went bowling. Look at the exquisite form and motion… although, that left toe should be pointed straight ahead.

Lucky for me, despite the poor toe mechanics, I threw a strike! I was pretty chuffed with myself after that.

These were the scores of the four games I bowled. Not too shabby if I do say so myself. Remember, it’s candlepin, smaller balls (snicker) and smaller pins!

Day two without the media began with the construction of the Lego castle.

The King and his knights were marching toward battle to rescue the princess from the dastardly Dragon Knights.

A great battle raged on between good and evil….

But the real winner of the day was fun!

Finally, I wound down my 48 hours without media with some reading. First for pleasure. Black Holes and Time Warps from Dr. Kip Thorne…

… and then I did some educational reading to keep the mind sharp.

I awoke the morning after 48 hours without media. Things were a little hazy at first, but soon came into focus. After reading several passages from Thoreau.. as dry as it was, I was able to take away this passage: “To be awake is to be alive.” I was awakened to life with and without media. To be alive is to have a solid balance between both. It’s okay to let go of the cellphone or Facebook or Twitter for a day or so. Get away and enjoy life.

This live version is used because of the serenity and peace in the beginning of the song. It fits the ending of 48 hours of media perfectly.

Rough Draft / Early Stages: Artaxiad

Well, I’ve secretly always wanted to write an epic of some sort. Like Beowulf or the Iliad, something so grand and fantastic, that’s it’s most surely out of the scope of my own talent. Regardless, if it’s worth aspiring to, it’s worth giving the old college try. So here’s a small look at something I started working on tonight, that could have potential, I don’t know. It’s unedited, probably a bit sloppy and needs to be tightened.

I’d like to get some feedback / criticism, any thoughts any of you that read this have. There’s little to the story right now, but I’d love to hear what anyone thinks.

With that being said, here’s an introduction to Artaxiad.

*****

Working diligently from the tallest tower
With sight over courtyard and kingdom
The clever old wizard plies his trade
Creating bubbling concoctions, tinctures,
Elixirs, potions and magical mixtures
An alchemist’s dream at his fingertips.
His snow-white hair thinning with age
Still falls over his shoulders and back.
A wispy beard of great length is yellowed
At the mouth from smoking garnal weed
Out of his favorite ornate wooden pipe.
Wearing simple black robes and pointed hat
He weaves his way through his laboratory
With fantastic ease, floating through the air.
Smiling and nodding his head at one vial
all while frowning and sighing at the next.
Artaxiad was the name he had gone by
For as many generations as the kingdom
Could remember and many, many more.
He had served dutifully under every king
Though recorded history would disagree
As old stories passed down through the ages
Would tell of an Artaxiad driven by madness,
plotting his deception against many kings.
Though stories were just that and never
Did any wise man know to raise any story
Above the sound of a whisper that would
Get lost in the cool harvest breeze
Lost to prying ears at the top of the tower.
He was both feared and revered by subjects
All were wary of his unholy magical prowess
Though few had ever seen it used before.

Lament

The waxing moon rose high into the night sky, its jaundiced glow making things seem a little brighter. Constellations in the shapes of stars surrounded the moon, a fiery army of the night that watched over everything, even though they were so far away. When you and I look back at this, will we remember the good times? Or will the times of pain, hurt and heartbreak rule the memories of what we once were?

The eroding beaches of time will always tell. The tide comes in and goes, the ever-growing moon pulling at the ocean deeps with all it’s might. The waxing moon’s shine bounces off the calm rippling surface leaving a glimmer that fades in your eyes. You can see the frown of regret drawn crudely on my face and you run a soft finger across the edge of my lips.

Your water well eyes and cotton mouth would be perfect if only they could fit in each other. Your mouth is stuck trying to tell me that everything’s going to be all right. Everything works out in the end. But staring into those emerald eyes, I’m drowning for the past. You said we could never go back, the past was done. However, in my head I can replay the good and block out the bad. My own little movie studio where every ending is a happy ending.

Do you remember the first time we met here? The waning moon had a reddish glow as it sank beneath the mighty ocean. Everything seemed easier then. Both of us were trembling, nervous for what might happen next. We knew what we wanted and it was the same. I was the one who finally grew the courage and leaned in for that first awkward kiss. My body was stiffer than a toy soldier when I made the move, but you embraced it completely.

When we moved apart and looked at each other for the first time after that moment, wide-eyed and full of wonderment, did you ever think it could end this way? Did you ever think the last day of the summer could be so cold? Everything that came out of your mouth seemed forced as I listened. I let the words come out, I had nothing to say. Even if I had wanted to, I wouldn’t have been able to muster any words of coherence.

Finally after looking away from those beautiful eyes of yours, I was able to open my mouth. “How did we get so far apart?” I asked. You looked down at yours toes and dug them into the soft sand, speechless. “We used to be so close together.” I said. You put your chin into your chest and swallowed hard. Our journey as waves had just crashed into the breakwater. We’ve been left in pieces, shattered glass from a window pane.

As clear as the sky was that night, I felt like the rain was pouring down in my head. So sad to see us this way, I lament. I was hoping you’d let me down easy. Though I knew that would be impossible, the way I felt about you, and you to myself. I wanted to cry and I wanted to scream. I wanted to make you understand that you couldn’t do this to me… to us. The words were there in my head, but I was choking on them and I was never going to get them out.

After all we had gone through, I finally understood what it meant to feel the way it does when the rain comes down hard. Ere our substance as one was quickly unraveling and neither of us was being strong enough to pull through the emotion of what we were doing to one another. Everything fades in time, it’s true, but not like this.

For the last time I looked into your beautiful green eyes, the burning embers I had remembered from years past had began to smolder and the tears finally began to roll down the sides of your face. I raised a hand and put it to the side of your face and struggled one last smile. “I’ll always love you.” I said, filled with conviction. My eyes also began to water as you fought out a smile of your own. This was it and I stood up and began to walk from the beach we had spent so many nights on. I could feel your teary-eyed gaze watching me as I walked off into the night. And I couldn’t help but feel that I was slowly dying in those emerald eyes of yours.

It was then that I thought I heard your voice whisper, or maybe it was just the wind, “Maybe I can give this just one more try…”