Really fast cars

Life, in it's most basic form, is all about the pursuit (metaphoric, not literal) of really fast cars.

Now bear with me on this one, it takes some explanation. First, let's remove other pursuits; as the great mouse detective, Basil of Baker Street, once plagiarized, "Once you have removed the impossible, all that remains, however improbable, is the possible."

Right, to begin with there's love. Real, true, authentic, whatever. After a good deal of study and research, I have found that it is commonly deduced by the vast majority of people that there are plenty of fish in the sea and love can be found with a variety of people. There is not just one person for each other person; there is no great eugenics plan designed by some over-arching deity. People can be happily in "true" love more than once in their lives with different people. Some might argue that it's not true love if it ends, but that's another story and another blog. Also worth noting is that once you have found your ideal life partner you are done pursuing love, to put it unromantically; objective achieved, mission accomplished, return to base for a long and happy life. Therefore love cannot be the end because it has a finite pursuit.

So love is over-rated as a life long pursuit.

Next is money - first, some might argue but that's not why I'm destroying my soul online today. Money has no limit - you can always earn more, right? And you always need money. However, money in and of itself is not enough, it is just a vehicle to getting what you need in life. As fast as one earns money, one spends it. Hoarding money only gives a person more money. You can't live off money, as a thing, it cannot sustain you and you cannot procreate with it (If you do please do not inform me of this fact, nor how this act is performed). Money is a means to an end, a way of keeping score. It helps make life easy and enjoyable, but it does not achieve this itself. Unless you're Scrouge McDuck.

That's money out the window.

So if money is just used to buy things, the next thing on the list is possessions. Can the things you own make you happy. Undoubtedly, yes. But can they keep you happy? No. You always need new things, better things, and in today's world of consumer-capitalism society is geared towards satisfying this need. People buy the latest in whatever makes them happy as often as they can, and keep until the next one comes out. However, an endless chain of constantly upgrading what you own brings on stress and a need for competition. People die shopping; Black Friday 2008, January Sales every year. Shopping is an evil, endless mistress that is always demanding things from you, more and more, until it rules your life and you shop as often as possible in search of that tiny boost you get when you buy something you actually like. Shopping is like a really selfish and demanding partner, which is possibly why women love it so much.

So shopping and possessions in general are not the answer.

Which leads us to a conclusion that whatever the meaning for life is, it must be enjoyable in and of itself, not have a finite pursuit or search for but conversely must not need to be catered to at constant, short intervals. It must be something you can take pride in, something you can care for yet have a use for. Something you can show off, something unique but also something that can be replaced with a better version eventually.

And it must be fast, loud, powerful and, ideally, red.

Yep. Really fast cars. They have a long life span, provided you care for them - which you should, let's face it - but they can be replaced when a new one that is better in every respect comes out should you wish to replace it. They go fast - ideally, really fast - and make loud noises that silence competition and stir animal feelings within other people. They can be customized to your heart's content to make them completely and wholly yours and yours alone.

And they wont get jealous if you buy another one for another use, other than being awesome. Like trucking the family around.

Really fast cars are the meaning of life. However you reach this conclusion, you will always understand the truth of this. And when all those speeding tickets come through your letterbox and you get charged stupid amounts for your enlightenment, don't fret; instead frame those tickets and hang them on your wall so when your friends come over you can point at them and say, "Look how fast I was going."

Europe? What would I know about that?

Ok, who is more likely to know about European history; someone who lives in Europe - England in this case - or someone who's never been and only "read about it in books".

Every school child in England is put through a rigorous run-down of European history from an early age. I'm not complaining, it's just a comment. A fact, if you will. Whether or not those students remember what they learn is another matter, but in this case I do. Kind of helpful for a history major. English, from Roman occupation until now, French, revolution, Napoleonic and 20th Century, German, Pre-formation as the HRE and post-union, Russian, Medieval and from 1850 onwards. Europe as a continent, from roughly 900 AD until modern day on and off.

So I know about European history. No bravado, no false confidence. It's kind of my thing. So when my tutor - who doesn't really teach since she's always asking us questions in class rather than the other way around - made the statement that medieval upper class people had their servants sleep above them I was understandably a bit confused.

Look at it like this; you own land, you own people, you might own your own little fighting force as well. You have a title. You might even be related to your country's royal family. And you let your servants sleep above you. Really?

This is where the phrase "below stairs" came from. I've been round those old houses, courtesy of my parents' fascination with history, and I've physically seen, with my own eyes, where the servants slept. And unless I was temporarily in one of those paintings where the stairs lead in every direction except the one you thought they did, they were not above the owner's rooms.

Castles. Palaces. Manor houses. You build them as a display of opulence. Of how amazing you are. To show off. Can you imagine the King or Queen of England sleeping below their servants in Buckingham Palace? Or the ruler of the Taj Mahal not occupying the master chamber at the height of his empire's crown jewel? Or the Russian Tzar not sleeping in the royal bedroom, the highest in the building, when he stayed at the Winter Palace?

Admittedly I probably shouldn't have expected much from my tutor after her admission that she had only ever read about Europe. Or, even before that, from someone who 'teaches' a course called Nature & the Environment. That'll teach me to pick modules drunk...

The hot get hotter and the not...well...

So here's the thing. When I go to the gym, I don't expect to draw much attention - all said and done, I hope I don't. I'm not in the best shape and I don't believe I look attractive as I'm exercising. Most guys who go either follow the same philosophy, or just get on with what they're doing - this might not hold true in the weight area, but I don't venture there. My knowledge of steroids is insufficient.

For women, it seems to be different.

Now I'm not complaining, but I only ever seem to see attractive, athletic and 'in-shape' women at the gym. I mean, it follows that they've probably been going there for a while and it's a habit, hence they are there and look as good as they do. But why is it only attractive women go to the gym?

Maybe it's because the less attractive women are intimidated by the prospect of going, because of the attractive ones who are guaranteed to be there, but at the same time, the could just ignore their presence. It's like urinal-etiquette in guy's bathrooms; go in, choose a urinal as isolated as possible, eyes front and do your business. In fact, that's what I do when I'm at the gym.

Although that might also be because I work out at the back of the gym and all the girls there are attractive and in the skimpy sports-wear that is apparently a must have. Again, I'm just pointing out an observation. Definitely not complaining. Every guy I know who goes to my gym makes the same observation.

Although at the end of the day, that's not why I go to the gym. Really, I go to the gym so I don't have to go the gym. Really, I don't want hours of my day eaten up sweating away for no reason. Which is why I do it, to avoid it in the future. Yes, I would like to be in better shape and look more attractive, but primarily I am in fact going for myself. Let's face it, who else is going to care how I look right now?

Really it's just something to fill the time. But because it's roughly 0% intellectually occupying I got to thinking, why don't less attractive women feel the same way? I mean, they'd get to look at whatever attractive guys are there and feel better about themselves.

My next thought is pretty much whether any of these girls would talk to me if I tried to start a conversation. Having tried, the consensus is no; apparently my knowledge of steroids is still insufficient.

Better the Devil you know...

Who else here hates FaceBook?

I mean intellectually, obviously, since someone who is addicted to something can't be said to truly hate that thing. It's soul destroying. It's the ultimate tool of procrastination - yup, I reckon it's way up there with MMORPG's and sex for most chosen ways to avoid work. Not that I'm comparing the two, let's face it, one is clearly better than the other. How many women let you be a Level 80 Death Knight and go around killing stuff while you're in bed? Exactly. No comparison.

Facebook breeds discontent. It breaks people up, it allows people to lie to their loved ones without anyone knowing, it kills people's will to live, it depresses people, it makes people fail their degree, people get turned down or fired from jobs because of it.

And yet everyone loves it and signs on everyday in the hope of receiving a new notification or two. Some people, so desperate are they for affection, live on Facebook. They inhabit Facebook chat like it was a second home where everyone loves them. They neglect real social contact because someone *might* come online.

ARGH.

I have discovered, through much boredom and pained research, that the only real way to get Facebook to entertain you is to entertain it; you have to write on other people's walls, or send them a message, or add your own photos or whatever before you get the begged-for notification/wall post/message/vampire invitation.

For the record, I do not want to be a vampire/ninja/turtle/slave/mystery date/star trek fanatic/WoW lover/anti-facebook protestor/anything else that requires an application. I went through that stage and came out the other side. I want to separate the now-me to the then-me and never have anything to do with any facebook application ever again. They only eat away at your life even more than the rest of Facebook and they make your friends hate you.

So I'm going back to hard drugs, alcoholism and possibly branching out into kidnapping. These are intellectual pursuits - mostly - and will allow me to meet new people, discover new things, hopefully make some money and worst case scenario I'll get some exercise if things go wrong.

I would say you couldn't do that on Facebook but I know there's a kidnap application as some guy I barely talk to keeps trying to steal me away to Athens for no apparent reason and I'm fairly sure there'll be a RAPE! application some time soon. That cannot be a good example for small kids.

So...Superbowl...

Okay, who else watched that Steeler guy beat up on the Cardinal? Who was smaller than him?

And who thought that it was obviously right that NOTHING BLOODY HAPPENED because of it.

How much do you have to pay a ref to make a bullshit call like that? Seriously, how much? I know not everyone holds integrity close to their hearts, but come on. How many planets was that guy given?

I don't usually get worked up about sports, and I barely understand the rules of US 'Football'/Handegg, but I'm pretty sure punching another player repeatedly comes under the category of 'foul'. As opposed to the Cardinal player, who tripped on a falling Steeler and stumbled into the crouching guy after a field goal and was pulled up for "unnecessary roughness". What kind of bullshit rule is that anyway? Why, in a full contact sport, can something be condoned as "unnecessary roughness" when to be honest anything that isn't acceptable can be classed as "violent"?

Seriously, I want that number. How much do I have to pay a Superbowl ref to get that kind of service? It's a quality you don't see often in the world. Hell, if the food in the dining hall here, which is made with about as much consideration to ethics, were made with that much quality I'd eat like a bloody king - nay, like some form of minor deity.

If M.V.P. doesn't go to FitzGerald then I'm buying myself an AK47, because there's a roomful of motherfuckers somewhere I really, absolutely need to kill.