Dadga is the High King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, which are gods in Celtic Paganism. I am going to analyze the character of Dagda. If there are any Celtic Pagans reading this please don't get mad at me for treating Dagda like a fictional character.

The Dagda

                    The High King of the Tuatha Dé Deanann doesn't have a well established personality, actually. In fact the only two Tuatha Dé Danann that have distinct personalities (That I know if) is Morrigan, and Lugh. A lot is said about the role the Dagda plays though. He is the All Father, the ruler of the other gods. The big boss in Celtic Paganism. He has a club that can kill anything with a single blow, but the handle of the club can restore life to any dead being. He has the power of life and death. He also has a harp that he plays named Uaithne. I don't know much of what this symbolizes, actually, but his club shows a lot about his role as the All Father. He can destroy and create what he wants, with a limit, he has the most power but not all power. And that says quite a bit about him, I would say.

Media Analysis

                    Recently I watched a decent documentary titled, "Rip! A remix manifesto" which did have disagreeable parts admittedly. It was pretty darned biased. But did it rub me the wrong way? (If you know what I mean) Nope. The main idea of this film is that current copyright laws are a wee bit bad. That is a bit of an understatement but the film was very against copyright laws. Here in Canada copyright lasts for the creators lifetime PLUS 50 years. This is absolute poppycock! The purpose of copyright should be to allow creators to profit off of their brilliance. They can't profit if they are dead, simply. Copyright beyond the grave is silly. If you're a bit odd like me and find yourself interested in copyright laws, there is a link to a video about it by a youtuber named CGPGrey about it. Link at the bottom of the post.



                    I didn't like the first half of the film focusing on one artist, Girl Talk, it filled me with a bunch of bull crap I didn't need to know. I don't care about this creator, there are a million different examples one could use to talk about the issues with copyright law and how it makes it harder to be creative, choosing a crappy musician that does remixes isn't the most powerful of them. In fact I could make the claim that the creator chose Girl Talk because he just liked them, which is blatantly biased. It is clear that the documentary focuses on how this affects the people recreating something from the past, and not how modern copyright law affects the original creators. Aye, this is biased.

                    The beginning of the documentary russled my jimmies, to be honest, the gunk about Girl Talk left me a bit upset but once it went onto different examples I started getting more interested. The documentary did mention an issue that needed mentioning, it just wasn't the strongest film I saw.


Video by CGPGrey: http://www.youtube.com/watch?annotation_id=annotation_7216&feature=iv&src_vid=n1Zvv5YBjLw&v=tk862BbjWx4

An update, wow.

Rash waves crashed into the sides of the vessel I slept on far to the north

Descending into sweet slumber at the drop of a hat smashing to the deck like a lead weight

Bright and early I awoke, hazy, dirty, tangled in sheets like a caterpillar in a cocoon

I slid and stumbled from my bunk so high struggling to see in this dark

My parents stirred and I snuck out the door without word to either

Ascending to the top deck in search of my Elusive friend standing tall with pride like a spire

The man I knew as Merrick dwelled on deck eight if memory serves correctly

But not once did I set foot inside his abode, the suite vivid in my mind

I fell to a couch, Maiden blasting in my ears, closed my eyes and drifted away.

Those six days passed but the memory still remains, of the man I knew as Merrick

By mere chance I bumped into Austin, my queer friend, the best wingman known to mankind

Together, him and I, our Elusive friend Merrick, the cunning Samson himself

We stormed through this ship sailing sweet at sea blundering into all sorts of trouble

Merrick danced, I sung, we all had a feast, I wretched up into the garbage

Samson asked if I were fine and with a glowing smile I told him I’d never been better.

Josh and Becca, our Californian friends, went to their cabins and Samson followed me to my own

Concerned, he was, yet truly I was fine but ready to call it a night

The clock struck twelve and I said goodbye to the man I knew as Merrick

I longed to be home, in my room, with my bass guitar and collection of games

But out of the many adventures I have departed on that ship was among the greatest

For that was the first time I knew true friendship and was accepted for what I am

A nerd that loved music and sensed something weird about the man we knew as Merrick



Sorry for missing days, I would do free writing but I am busy writing non-postable stuff! By that I mean really really nerdy stuff. But here is a poem I wrote about a possession very dear to me that I keep close :) It's a Tanka by the way... It's a bit lame... Sorry!

Ryla Rock!

Cast the old one back

Drowned in pacific water

Nature to nature

The old stone sunk to the floor

I received one from the shore

“Literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm.” After reading that I have decided to do a very different poem.

Sentence

The dread increased as the fourth dimension moved.

I didn't post anything yesterday. Sorry. I had something to post but I didn't get around to posting it! D: So here is some ridiculous free-writing to make it up to you ^.^ I am doing it for six minutes straight... And in case you don't know what free writing is, it is writing non stop without any editing or anything. So I am typing for six minutes and I can not stop, so this will get silly! Be warned

Free Writing I

Free writing time! So I want to do something that is a LEGIT story, but what story? The plot will be a dog barking, well, the protagonist and the ummm events will be a dog barking. Why? Because my DOG IS BARKING! So once upon a time, of course, because that is the way to start every shit story (sorry for the cursing), there was a dog named Gibbles. He was named that name because the one naming the dog, myself, wait no Jackson was the guys name of the guy that named Gibbles (because FIRST PERSON PERSPECITIVE IS HARD TO WRITE AND IGNORE THAT TYPO BECAUSE I CAN'T DELETE IT!), the dog named Gibbles was named Gibbles because it was the first thing to come to Jacksons head, as he was running low on time and had not a second to lose! Gibbles let out a bark, Jackson was mad, the dog did not notice as it was upstairs and Jackson was in his basement writing! Jackson stopped writing for a moment. Oops. That was not supposed to happen. Out of frustration Jackson started playing some Adrian von Ziegler which made him stop for a very brief moment! He ran out of things to write, so he decided he needed to use an object on his desk. A six sided die! Why a six sided die? Because when he was worrying about how long he should free-write for he decided to roll a six sided die! The same six sided die that was used in many of his tabletop RPG's! The very one that caused his friend Gerald to DIE TERRIBLY BY GETTING DRUNK AND POISONED AND DEAD! Jackson is a big nerd. That girl on the bus he wrote about, he was taking the bus home from a comic book store. Hah! Nerrrrd! Yup, he also plays too much Mount & Blade. (Kingdom of Nords FTW) and he has a strong feeling this free writing is not super amusing, sorry again, and sorry for referring to myself in third person. I am weird, aren't I? Only one minute ish left, well, a few more seconds I gue-

Done. Hope you enjoyed, if not, sorry! Let me know if this was legitimately funny or not... Sometimes these things turn out... Other times, not so much.

I had an English exam today so didn't do much (any) writing, but I wrote this last night. There a thousand poems like it but I need to post something today!

The Girl on the 89

To the girl with pink hair,

I spotted on the 89.

Your crown shined bright,

and caught my eye.

You wore it in a tail,

and you sat comfortably.

Me and my friends we joked,

our virtual adventure over.

We may have offended,

so your pose changed.

Your legs swung down,

feet on the floor.

A straighter back and a flatter look.

I do remember when you looked my way,

I smiled but I payed little attention to you.

Did you notice my smile?

I was lost in your look.

Was it at me?

Before Spruceland,

or perhaps after,

you departed.

You raised your hand and I hoped,

hoped for a wave.

I wished to be noticed.

And I believed in my wish.

I believe in my wish.

To be beautiful,

when there is nobody to impress.

To recognize beauty,

when there is no need to please.

There is something to take from this,

appreciate everybody.

Not just her,

but the all the passengers.

One man smelt of weed,

I remember him from some time ago.

He became addicted sometime,

because of somebody.

It must have affected him then.

This was something I did for school awhile ago, it was kinda forced and not something I am super proud of, but I need to post something right? Oh and there are some huge grammatical errors, I am sorry! But I can't fix them, that's just cheating.

The Last Journey of Captain Tony

Every time a wave crashed against the F.S. Commonus every board creaked creating a big racket that only added to the nervousness of the crew. The wind was good at least, only a single hour left if the G.P.S. told true. But the storm interfered and it did cut out on occasion. ‘The storm may conceal our vessel though.’ The captain thought to himself. As long as the G.P.S. told true they had nothing to worry about.

        A large wave hit the bow of the Commonus and the ship went up into the air and crashed back down soon after causing the captain, Tony, to lose his footing. Smashing against the floor with a thud did catch Merrick’s attention from the room. Merrick swung open the door and asked in his strong Newfoundlander accent. “All be good cap’n?”

        Tony got to his feet and sighed. “Yes Merrick the wave just caught me off guard is all.” He explained. “How much longer would you say?” Asked Tony, hoping it wouldn’t be too much longer for every passing minute only served to lower the morale of the crew even more.

        Merrick clicked his tongue against his teeth to make a ticking sound the answered “Well cap’n, wit’ t’e wind in ‘ur favor as t’is shouldn’t be m’re than… Anot’er hour?” Which caused Tony to let out a sigh of relief. Somewhere around another hour was good time, indeed. In fact, if that was the case, they would be back in port by the weekend, relaxing in San Blas!

        Those thoughts needed to be put aside though, Tony needed to make preparations. “Good, good.” Mumbled tony as he left his own quarters and entered what was known as the “Cargo Room” which was admittedly used for more domestic purposes then it was first intended for. Some hot plates were set up on a plastic crate, several sleeping bags were on the floor for the crew, then there was a roundish table with four chairs around it and a deck of cards which appeared to have been used for a game of Texas Hold ‘em before it was abandoned. A bowl of mostly finished beans sat on the table too, with a spoon stuck in it, and an empty glass with a few water droplets stuck to the bottom.

        Tony continued up a very steep set of steps to the deck of the F.S. Commonus and bellowed “Fred! Don! Get your weapons and be ready! We will need them in another turn of the clock!” ‘But maybe sooner’ He thought to himself. A captain needed to be specific though.

        “Harold!” He continued. “Get up to the crows nest! And you know your job Mick!” All of the crew scampered across the deck. Fred and Don, both burly men sharing a lot of traits for they were both brothers, rushed to the cargo room and came back up with rifles. Harold quickly climbed up the mast with surprising ease, and Mick stayed where he was.

        It was Micks job to steer the ship, and he did it on a slightly elevated platform at the very back of the ship with a torn blue tarp over it. The Global Positioning System was in Tony’s quarters though so Merrick ran back and forth to keep Mick informed.

        Crash! Another big wave hit the side of the ship and Harold yelled “There they are, sir! Just off the Starboard side of the ship!”

        Fred and Don together ran over to the right of the ship and made ready out in the distance. A small sail boat slowly came into sight. Approximately five minutes more were spent moving in then Tony grabbed his megaphone and shouted “Surrender your goods or prepare to be boarded!” There was no reply save the loud gunshots that sung in the air.

        The ships slowly continued on towards each other and Fred as well as Don fired off an occasional shot to frighten the enemy into cover. This continued for quite some time. A minute passes, then bang, then more of a wait, and another bang. The ships were close and Tony yelled “Prepare to board!” then after another minute he hollered again “BOOOOOOOOOARD!” Harold fired a shot out of his sniper from the crows nest.

        There was an enemy, swinging at Don, and he fell lifeless suddenly. Tony payed him no mind and found somebody else to target. He swung his machete at the man over and over. All his enemy had was a simple kitchen knife but he kept dodging! Tony let out a quiet curse and kept swinging. ‘He can not keep this up much longer.’ Thought Tony.

        There was a shout, and the man dropped his knife. ‘They must be surrendering’ He thought to himself tiredly.

        Merrick and the other four took the goods from the ship and made the others walk the plank, while Tony dreamt, dreamt of his home. He was born in the ocean, he knew how to swim before he knew how to walk! “Tony the fish” was the nickname his friend Tim gave him many years ago. Those were the good days, back in the Maritime’s. But the dreams ended and Tony woke to a loud bang and a flash.