Sado-masochism for the masses.

It has come to my attention today that, given the opportunity, there is a large number of people in the world who will rejoice in causing as much pain to someone else as possible, preferably from where they can see it in detail but not receive any backlash.

This revelation was gifted to me while paintballing today. Having been given a very small, restricted and slight glimpse of what war is like I can safely say it's a terrible idea to get involved in unless you are:
a) Naturally violent and antisocial,
b) Unable to make a living another way,
or c) Ready to die.

Had I been in a warzone situation I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have done half the things I did today - notably among them diving full bodied over a hillock into a trench and cracking a rib by landing on my gun. I also had to replace the barrel as it was instantly forced about a foot into the mud-stuff that formed the trench floor. I spent the rest of the game crawling around and trying to not draw attention to myself while attempting to ignore the stabbing pain in my chest. Having taken myself out of the fight, essentially, for a game or two I had the opportunity to watch what was going on. This was what brought on my revelation.

I saw people gleefully running at fortified positions, opening up desperately but with clear and vicious intent to try and hit an opposing player. I saw several players fire at people who were obviously 'dead' and leaving the field despite - perhaps because of - the fact they were, for all intents and purposes, harmless. And no-one ever fired just one shot. It was always a stream of about ten. I will grant that the guns we used were atrociously inaccurate so to actually hit what you were aiming at usually a few shots were necessary. However, you can tell where a ball will land before it does land there - paintballs may travel at approx 200mph when they leave the gun but quickly decelerate to following-able speeds. If your ball is going to or has already hit someone, stop shooting at them. Give them time to check they were hit properly and then, if they are, let them get up and leave.

This is what decency pretty much demands. Not much decency was visible today. After one incident I lost my temper a little. I 'died', made it abundantly clear I was dead and after taking but one step I was hit again. This was a good ten seconds or so after the first hit, so wasn't part of a burst, and was completely unnecessary. I released a short and abusive tirade in the direction the paintball had come. I think it was the only time I've heard a paintball field go totally silent mid-game without any intervention from marshalls. I would have been embarrassed but I was too busy being furious. Then, after getting everyone's attention and making it certain beyond any doubt I was 'dead' and was moving toward the deadzone, someone on the other team raised their gun at me while I approached. My immediate response was to shoot him, which I curbed but only just; he seemed taken aback by a previously 'harmless' target raising his weapon and turning into a extremely harmful potential target. He didn't shoot. I was glad. I think, given some thought, he would be too.

Given the evidence, everyone there had a good time. Causing pain and suffering it themselves at the hands of others. There were few selfless sacrifices, a small bit of team work but about as much general co-operation as a group of five year olds after over-dosing on crack-cocaine. I enjoyed. It is pretty exhausting exercise, I got shot but got revenge as well and would certainly go again. Does this make me a deviant, twisted person? I don't think so; I meet new people, shoot them, get shot, learn to be aware of my surroundings under pressure and have fun with friends.

This could just be a list of excuses for being a deviant, twisted person. Or the label of 'deviance' and 'twisted-ness' could be forced upon us by people who don't enjoy it because we're different. It depends on your perspective, and it's only fair to judge once you have every sides' version of a story.

With the advantage of having both perspectives, I would say this: Don't go paintballing. You will be stuck in filth while running from vengeful, violent and possibly unbalanced individuals given non-lethal guns and told it's okay to kill people.

Abstinence and Breakfasting.

So Lent has begun and people are giving up things, like chocolate, alcohol and sex. What have I given up? Something a lot more difficult for me personally to shake.

Laziness.

Yup. I'm giving up one of my defining character defects. It's paying off but it's a lot of hard work. I'm aggressively hunting down job interviews and pursuing people on what has happened to my applications, I'm going to the gym (after a little convincing from a good friend who offered to pay my gym fees) and I'm creating a plan of attack to tidy my room, which looks like the Somme post-1918.

What I'm really doing is, rather than giving something up, is taking something on. This is a lot more work and effort, and generally harder, but should be more rewarding. I say should because in today's economic/political crisis nothing is promised and it could still result in total nada. But cross fingers it helps.

This post is inspired by the ladies who were talking to each other in the queue at the supermarket today. Most/all of it was so inane and lacking in excitement I came close to tears but I steeled myself to avoid an emotional breakdown in public. Eventually they got talking about Pancake Day (ref: Shrove Tuesday) and one of them realized that meant it was Lent. I mean, as if it were unexpected or unusual for Lent to a) happen b) start of Shrove Tuesday. The other said, "Oh yes, I've given up chocolate.

This was a rather anti-climatic conclusion to the subject - the other woman agreeing that sounded good and she would do the same - and the two moved on from the topic. I was a bit miffed that they had moved on so hastily and basically regarded it as an unimportant chore - I also caught a huge whiff of insincerity about their fasting choices. I mean, while giving up chocolate is all when and good as far as it goes, it doesn't go far. Now, say, giving up desserts and snacking entirely, that's more like fasting. To give a comparison, it would be like me giving up cheese: a minor nuisance that a simple change in my diet and a saving of one British pound would accommodate.

I'm not saying people should try harder, or that they're being disrespectful or ungodly or anything. I think people are just being lazy. That's right, lazy. By giving up something that is a treat anyway they can fool themselves into believing that they have fulfilled some imagined quota or crossed a check box in their lives. It really becomes a laughable practice when you get right down to it, like greeting cards and cheap gimmicky presents at Christmas.

My point is that Lent is a recognized time of year in the Christian calendar. I'm sure if you asked some quietly devout Muslims what they were giving up for Lent they'd possibly be quite offended. It shouldn't be something everyone has to do, shouldn't be commercialized and thereby belittled by making it commonplace. Lent is an important time of year for Christians, or should be. Again, I'm not saying people should try harder. What I'm really saying is people shouldn't try.

Think about it; if you're not Christian, what does it matter to you whether it's Lent or not? Why bother trying? What's the frigging point? Yes, this I am Christian and yes, this does seem to be against the evangelical nature of my faith but why say, "No, I don't care for your religion" and then partake in a religious observance for that religion? I mean, why not go for Ramadan or Hanukkah while you're at it?

Yes, I understand people can do it regardless of their faith but still; why then? Why that time of year? Why not just do it another time? That'd really make an impression on people. It could be said people observing Lent without being part of the faith is a good thing and that they're respecting it. Judging by their choices of fasting, I wouldn't agree with this; in the forty days and forty nights he spent in the desert, it is doubtful Jesus's first desire would have been for something sweet and luxurious like a chocolate bar. It would probably have been something we all take for granted now. Like water.

So this Lent I decided to make a proper effort - I will admit, this allowed me to give up my original resolution of "No Fizzy Drinks" but I'm not upset or embarrassed about that; this way, I'm also being more respectful in my observance of the season. All I'm asking is that this year, make Lent special. Pick something you can really achieve if you put the effort in, and do it. Remember the words of Yoda regarding willpower,

"Do, or do not. There is no try."

This Lent, don't try. Do, or do not.

Self-Righteousness and Revivication

This blog, as the few people who follow/read it may have noticed, has been dying. I have been hard pressed to find a point where I have a) time, b) motivation and c) something interesting to write about to keep my little portion of cyberspace alive. However, this changed today for two reasons:

ONE!:
I have a friend who not only has a full time job but is also pursuing a fledgling and increasingly successful career in stand up comedy who fins time to write at least one entry a day. If she can manage a + b + c so can I! Otherwise, I'm failing a bit as the creative genius I claim to be.

TWO!:
I had time today to think about it.

To explain: Driving home from a friend's house today I took the back roads to avoid rush hour traffic. It's a long and quite tight route, but my Nissan Micra has bravely traversed those wilds many times before so I felt confident today. Half way home, I had to stop due to a woman who was coming the other way and decided that she was so important she could break road law and, instead of waiting behind the line of parked cars on her side of the road to let me past - as right of way required her to do - she instead began to drive towards me.

On my side of the road. After I had already begun to drive down past the obstructing line of parked cars which blocked her side of the road.

It wasn't until I got about two thirds of the way that I had to stop, lest I damage my beloved Micra by attempting to drive through her 206. The woman was livid; as in, totally and absolutely furious. She was shouting at me (which I couldn't hear over my music) and waving her arms and gesturing and swearing. So was her daughter. It was quite easy to lip read, as she kindly emphasized the motions of her speech for me, and I was called stupid at least half a dozen times.

Being honest, there was no way in hell I was reversing nearly a hundred metres along a tight back road to let her past. Instead, I turned my music up and took the time to study her.

She was fat. So fat I could only claim she had a neck by assuming she was human and therefore, anatomically, had to have one. Her daughter was also fairly large, but nothing on her mother. Her skin looked leathery and weather beaten, and there was very little about her appearance I could reasonably identify as feminine. From my visual investigation, I could see no reason why this woman should be allowed to break road law and not reverse to let me by.

After this I began to ignore her and started to sing and dance along to my radio while turning off my engine to wait for her to return to sanity. This seemed only to achieve a net effect of turning her face purple. After drumming on my wheel for awhile and not moving, she got out of her car and walked towards me.

She was really big. In fact, this is one of the few times I could accurately describe someone as 'obese'. It was as terrifying as it was disgusting. The fact she could walk at all was a source of amazement to me.

I unwound my window, lest she attempt to knock on it with her ham-hands and accidentally break it due to a misconception about physics, and she greeted me in what I can only guess was her colloquial fashion for this situation. Are you ready?

"Wha' the fuck is wrong with you? Can't you see I'm tryin' to fuckin' drive and you're in my fuckin' way?"

That's three apparently natural uses of the word 'fuck' or a derivative of it in two sentences where it adds nothing and makes no sense, seeing as how it's actually meaning is more or less 'to have sex with'. I'm not even going to try and replace it in the sentence. I told her that a) I was also trying to drive (normally), b) she was also in my way (normally - or as normal as she could manage, at least) and c) that nothing was wrong with me.

She then proceeded to, quite kindly, show me that her expletive vocabulary was quite limited to the words 'fuck' and 'shit' while also attempting, to what I believe was the best of her ability, to explain why I should move back down the road. My response she could try reversing back the ten or so feet to pull back onto her side of the road and then let me pass, thus allowing herself to continue her journey.

I was asked, eventually, why she should reverse and not I. I looked back down the road, to make sure it wasn't just a trick of my mind that made me think it wasn't a quite expansive distance behind me to the other end of the obstructing cars. It was. I told her it was my side of the road and she only had to go back ten feet or so. She was still livid. I told her I had no other plans for this evening and that I could wait for her to find reverse, as long as it took, before continuing on and rolled up my window. She tried shouting at me but it didn't work because I turned up my music.

She did eventually reverse back soon after that. I waved a thank you and in return got a middle finger, but it didn't bother me much. The whole time this incident was occurring and I hadn't talked to the woman/thing I had been thinking about a few things, one of them being this blog. I decided to re-begin for the same reason I didn't reverse my car down that road; there are regularly fruits for patience.

So I am going to continue writing this in the hope that one day it will bear fruit and assist my future in some way. Failing that, anyone who reads it might get some entertainment or, heaven forbid, wisdom from whatever words I post. I hope this helps other people decide that it sometimes worth doing something because one day it might do them some good.

Cinnamon Bagels: Food of the Future

As is obvious, I haven't written anything here for awhile.

This mainly due to stress, hatred, nausea, maniacal laughing, hysterical sopping, infrequent tantrums and violent out bursts of undirected anger caused my dissertation. It's done now, but I'm still haunted by it; I managed to misprint the damn thing about 4 times so now I have four imperfect copies of my dissertation that I poured blood and sweat and hate-filled dedication into sitting on my desk staring at me smugly, knowing it's ruined my life. This must be what some corporate CEO's feel when they have a bad day and look down at their desks to see a picture of their family. Only I can burn my dissertation.

I've been drunk for the last two days. It was fun but I'm now enjoying sobriety and the ability to eat normal food it brings - hence the cinnamon bagels. Anyone who doesn't like them is never getting into Heaven, period. I can still be friends with them, but I'll always pity them slightly. If you haven't tried them, go do it now. And if you don't like them, don't pretend you do and eat on the vain hope you'll still get into Heaven; God knows if you don't like them already. And He will judge you as have I.

Ahem. Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about was real life. No, as a student for al my adult life I've never really been involved in this strange and weird thing, but from my graduated friends' experiences its horrible. So, I'm going to try to find the good bits in it;

1) Income. Like money, but its a frequent injection that you don't have to pay back. Yes, you need a job and they can be terrible but this is a list of good things.
2) The ability not to have to live with your parents (related to income). Again, this is also a cost but the benefits far out-weigh the costs.
3) You meet new people. Sure, maybe in a business manner but still. New people.
4) I won't be getting more money off the government. This could be seen as a con, but the loan repayment interest rate is atrocious and doesn't change. Seriously, check it out; it's extortion of the first order. The 'inflation' incremental increase bears no relevance to the actual rate of inflation and the interest rate that 'doesn't exist' actually does. Day light robbery.
5) That's about it.

But, in my opinion that's enough. People with jobs kinda forget what it's like not to have any money coming in at all. It makes me want to cry sometimes and I would, except that my tear ducts fell out when I was fifteen and I can no longer cry in the normal sense of the word. Instead I break things.

David Cameron (and Nick Clegg, I suppose, although it wasn't part of his manifesto) has promised to sort out the student loan issue - without mentioning what part of the student loan was an issue, so this could be interesting - and has given himself an extra year for his term of office so he can make this happen, as well as other things. Like removing Gordon Brown's term of service from the official history books forever. I hope he can do it - I actually voted him in. Yes, I personally voted 500,000 times for David Cameron. That's not true, but I did vote for him in the hope he could do 20% of what he promised. And so that Gordon Brown wouldn't be in office again.

I'd also like him to bring down housing prices so I can get my own house sooner. I guess I could always go on benefits but that just...urgh...hurts my soul to think about. At least I wouldn't have to get food stamps.

Cameron should also cure cancer, solve the AIDS issue, make me tea once a week within an hour of me asking and lower the cost of cinnamon bagels, based on his statement that he would "make Britain and the world a better place." We'll see how he does. In the mean time, I have to prepare to blitz my last exam ever (with luck). Wish me luck, or alternatively give me a job.

So. America!

Those of you who watch my blog - the very few - will have noticed that the postings have slowed down of late. Some might say they've stopped. Speculation on why this may be ranges from 'He got a life' to 'Maybe that girl he says he's seeing is real' to 'the Iceland ash cloud. obviously' to 'Aliens! He can't have a real girl!'.

The first of these is most accurate, as I've been jumping around America for the past two weeks or so causing what chaos I could. After a brief stop over in Buffalo it was off to Chicago for four days with Raven, and that was a lot of fun. Sadly I didn't see too much of Chicago, but I think I can cope. Then back to Buffalo for a week or so with m friends there; a couple of improv shows, some parties, generally having a lot of fun.

What have I gained out of this? Well, lots. But, aside from certain obvious benefits, I have learned how much I missed my friends I left here, which is odd since we all know any friendships here involving me have a time-limit, as I live in England - much to the chagrin of some. However, coming back was great and it was almost like I never left. Which is good, but kinda scary.

I've also learned that there is quite a high percentage of the population that doesn't use Facebook. Which is fine, but since I don't have cell numbers for anyone getting in touch is difficult; I had to stalk one person out of the student union and half way to their dorms. I felt creepy so it's anyone's guess what I looked like.

Gamegirl and Conscience will be glad to here everything went okay for myself and Raven and that we don't hate each other. Conscience won't want to know the details but I'm sure Gameboy - Gamegirl's boyfriend (yes, imaginatively named, I know) - will ask about it so she'll end up knowing. I'm looking forward to seeing them all again when I go home, but there is a significant part of me that wants to bring my American friends back for a bit.

It's too bad the Iceland ash cloud has cleared up, or looks to be cleared up, or I could feasibly delay my flight home for a while and stay out here longer, pleasing several parties. We'll have to see what happens, maybe God will take a hand in it. Although it really wouldn't serve a higher purpose than making me happy and possibly reducing the chances of my dissertation being written.

"Better Infamous Than Forgotten"

I've discovered I have to return to my university city a day or so early because of academic events I cannot miss - namely, an in-class exam - but today is being left free for a little bit more time with friends and family, in the spirit of Easter and the national holiday Easter Monday is. However, I have nothing to do for a while and the day drags on when you're doing nothing. So, to try and escape criminal levels of boredom, I googled myself.

I got a link to linkedin.com, a business networking website, where I was listed under 'pubs'; I believe this means public profiles, not public houses, otherwise the site is direly misinformed. However, the profile is missing which either means I should make one - not likely right now - or I should forget it and go about my life as I have done for the last twentysomething years.

The other link of interest I got - that wasn't for some kind of networking site - was a biography site and a short entry claiming some of my relative moved to America at some point. For interest, here it is:

[MyName] farmer, sec. 24; P. O., Vermont; was born here in 1833, son of James and Lydia (Mercer), natives of Ohio; his father came on foot to Illinois, and being overtaken by the deep snow (1830-31), he became discouraged and returned to Ohio in the spring, but in 1833 he settled permanently in this county; he died in 1868, and his wife died when John was but 10 years of age; the latter received a liberal education; in the last war he enlisted in Yates' Battalion of sharpshooters, and was in many a sharp encounter. He married Mahala B. Petty, daughter of John Petty, of Indiana, and their children are Minnie, Irving, and Jesse.

Riveting stuff right? After reading this, I decided I didn't want to become a paragraph on some little known website or a footnote in a census after I die. Quite how I'm going to achieve greatness is as yet unclear. I am working towards becoming a published author but that's not the easiest thing in the world by a long shot. One of my 'friends' suggested a one man genocide. We're not friends on Facebook, so obviously it's not an official position. He's more of an acquaintance. Especially now; it's not that I don't like him, but it's not something that you should really suggest loudly in a crowded pub. I left quickly.

So, I'm taking ideas at the moment. Chu, my youngest brother, has yet to give any constructive help and my other younger brother, Mandarin, is in China and so slightly less than easily contactable. Most people are encouraging me down the path I've chosen - that of the author, not the genocide artist - including Rebel, Gamegirl and Raven, the girl I've given myself to (that's horribly close to a girlfriend reference. I don't really know another way to describe her though, so I'll have to see how she likes it). Conscience, one of my closest friends who usually plays the role she's been named after for me, also supports me but is kind of having to deal with her own university fallout at the moment. She's been a graduate for nearly a year, and it sounds like she has a little longer left before she's properly using her degree.

But in my quest for greatness, I feel I should have a contingency plan. I'll be running a few ideas past the world via this blog, rather than by practice, mainly for your entertainment, Reader, so if you ever get that slightly less than bored you need to be to come here you may get some entertainment. In the meantime, it might be worth thinking of your own path to greatness so that you have your place in history. There might not be a fountain of youth, but you can be immortal and un-aging in the minds of millions if you try.







[The last quote is from The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassuss. The title quote is Napolean. You decide which has more merit in your opinion, but Napo's got my vote.]

Strange people.

We all know at least one; a person who will more often than not do things that are very out of the ordinary. Sometimes you get whole families of them, who do the same strange things (sometimes referred to as 'cults') or who do lots of different strange things (sometimes referred to as 'inbred'). So I know you, The Reader, will know the sort of person I am speaking of.

This post began while I was out with Rebel and Gamegirl - Gamegirl, like Rebel, is a housemate of mine currently. We were out for a meal at a rather fantastic all you can eat buffet and Gamegirl mentioned she couldn't access my new blog posts because I hadn't put the link up on facebook. I told there weren't many new posts, as the very few people who read this will be able to corroborate, but she insisted and so the link is now back in public domain. She also said I should write new posts to increase their number. Fancy that, effort equals productivity.

Any how, since it's coming up to deadline time again I need to procrastinate for no good reason and this blog does provide me with quite the opportunity. What could I write my new posts on though? My recent misadventures involving the M25? No, as a Greater London local I have dealt with the pain, anguish and hardship of the M25 for long enough that it doesn't rile me suitably to require a rant or blog post. My love life? While that may be interesting for some of you Readers, I've already said that I'm not going to go into that kind of thing here - "HAHA!" the Reader cries, "It's actually because you don't have one, isn't that right you sad little Chadrock?" Currently, that statement is closer to being false than true actually. I just don't want to publish it online. Could I write about the wonders of the all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet I went to? Well, here goes:

It's a buffet. Of Chinese food. And you can have as much as you want for fourteen British Sterling/$20 equivalent. The food is good and service is pleasingly fast. Those are the wonders. Share, indulge and enjoy.

Not so interesting as a blogpost, right? So I was still kind of flailing around cognitively for an idea this morning when my course friend BluesBoy revealed he had to print an essay off after class and hand it in. Not amazing in itself, the video he showed me while it was printing was.

Have you ever heard of Live Action Role Playing (L.A.R.Ping), Reader? If not, go abuse youtube for a while and have a look around for it. You'll find something. If you're too lazy to navigate away from my page, then I shall provide a brief explanation: grown men and women go out into the woodland or some other secluded area away from regular society and dress up as fantasy characters from games such as World of Warcraft and re-enact battles from the history of that game or from the game itself. Like when you were eight years old and played Cowboys & Indians with your friends, only slightly more organized and there's a set of rules. No, I don't know them. No, I don't LARP. I do, however, find the idea at the same time comforting and hilarious. All shall be explained later.

First, I finally reach the point of my new post; Live Avatar Role Playing. Yes, like from the film. With the blue people/Na'vi. The people of Hometree, Wisconsin have set up their own fantastic (nb; of fantasy) reserve that they attempt to model on Pandora. This was the video on youtube that BluesBoy showed me. This takes LARPing to a whole new level; WoW has a huge player base, or 'population', and so I find it more understandable that people would want to LARP from it's history and literature. Avatar may have a big following and high success rate but it's not in the same league as WoW or most cyberpunk cults. Live Avatar Role Playing takes my feelings of comfort and hilarity to a whole new level, which I will explain now.

Comfort: If this...activity makes them happy, then fine. Great. I'm glad for them. If painting yourself blue and running around sparse woodland and speaking in invented languages, go for it. Just like the normal(?) LARPers, I shouldn't come down harshly on these people. They're not hurting me so why should I worry?

Hilarity: Really? I mean, really? Grown adults who are meant to be mature and sensible do this kind of thing for entertainment? Thinking about it, it's not quite as bad as grown men hiding in trees and yelling "Lghtning Bolt!" while throwing representative twigs, but it's close. "This is how I feel comfortable, why should I be ashamed? It's like it's my real skin." Yeah, right. Which is why you paint it on.

BluesBoy and his housemate Firehead have actually turned up during the writing of this blog. There was a brief discussion about the video during Guitar Hero, along the lines of, 'It can't be real, they're just actors. Their speeches were too good and there weren't any mistakes,' but while that could be true if these people are confident enough I don't think they'd stutter or have problems talking about it on camera.

Decide for yourself; youtube Live Avatar Role Playing and see the strangeness for yourself. Whatever you decide, I'm leaving it well enough alone. I have to go shopping for stuff to cause chaos with in my last class ever. Wish me luck.



(Note: Their archery is terrible and the joining ritual just doesn't translate well into role play. Do not try this at home.)

Gamer, LF date.

Violent and/or aggressive computer games have been demonized by the media and criticized for destroying the youth of today. They display scenes of graphic and unusual violence and encourage what is best described as 'medieval' behaviour - killing people at will to achieve something, not throwing piss in the streets and dying of the plague. Which is why women steer clear of them, pretty generally, and only a small minority of them dare venture into a world where verbal harassment can occur in the comfort of their own homes. And we, the male gamers of the world, understand this and accept it. But there's a secret that we all share, something that would probably terrify the female gender if they ever found out and believed it; it's all a big conspiracy.

Computer games on any format are no more disturbing or compelling than a violent movie or a piece of graphic literature. Hell, there are cartoons that children watch that are far more scary in their inferences and connotations than most media-criticized computer games. And men know this, but we need one thing that women have no hold over. Even sports, our previous refuge, is becoming more and more accepted by the fairer gender and they are increasingly getting involved in them, both professionally and socially. Men need time away from women where they don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing, or having an idle remark turned into a declaration or war; somewhere we can be the heartless bastards nature intended us to be without feeling bad. Pubs and bars are safe no longer, as ladette culture spreads and women increasingly find out that these palces aren't so bad.

So we created the Games Conspiracy. All those media reports, all those 'banned' games, most of the horror stories, they're nearly all a fiction. I won't deny some are true, but most of the propaganda against computer games comes from men and is written or originates from men. Women might take up the battle cry, but we are the source. We create the hatred of them, and since we know it's mostly rubbish and not true that's why the games industry, so often criticized and blamed for societies flaws, has not been shut down. Think about it people! If everything said about it was true, why in God's name would it still be there? And we do this, we go to all the effort of a global conspiracy just so women do not, under any circumstances, become part of the culture as anything more than a token presence. You know why?

We don't want girls on Xbox live! It's a safe haven from the need to talk to women, and somewhere you can rip the shit out of 12 year-olds and send them home crying without any consequence past a bad player review. We do not need women bringing their sensitivity and caring nature to what is essentially man's last refuge of disorganized, testosterone filled rampaging violence in the modern world. We need this chance to be everything women hate so when we're in 'decent' company we don't slip up and behave like 'barbarians'.

My not-completely in/sincere rant today is provided by gamecrush.com, a website that advertises itself with capitals (www.GameCrush.com) for no reason, as web-addresses are not case sensitive. I may be picking at scraps here, but this....idea upsets me. It is a website which essentially fulfills the role of a dating website using games as a gimicky medium in a slightly desperate and ill-thought through effort to attract gamers, stylized and stereotyped as socially inept and unable to talk to women in most situations. I could write a paper on the mistakes it makes, and it would look something like this:

The Obvious Problems with GameCrush.com
An essay by J.T. Chadrock

1)Gamers predominantly play computer games to have fun, not to meet women. Blindly obvious, but it must be pointed out. If a gamer wanted to meet women, they would go somewhere women classically frequent. Like, anywhere without computer games.
2)If Gamers are as socially inept or so panicked by talking to women as the stereotype leads us to believe, then having a webcam conversation with one they don't know over a game of chequers or Battleships (seriously, they advertise this as casual gaming over webcam) is not going to be any easier. Especially, and I stress this, because none of the PlayDates (yes, again I kid you not) are required to actually deliver anything. This moves on to point 3).
3)Players (yes, this is how GameCrush describes their clients) can rate the PlayDates based on their performance. The rating categories are hotness (supposedly obligatory but subjective and, if I'm honest, unnecessary), flirtiness (the novelist and writer in me seethes with distaste for that non-word) and gaming ability (something that could be much easier recorded by a simple record system of wins-losses. Like, say, most games use.) The categories help little and realistically a girl's gaming ability is not what appeals to me. If I wanted to date a serious gamer I'd find her on Xbox Live or WoW or whatever I preferred because the PlayDates are paid to play computer games and don't necessarily have that avid an interest.
4)It costs. Like any dating website, I'll admit. But only the Players are charged; PlayDates date for free. This, I feel, is a rather sexist and unfair method as if the PlayDates truly enjoy games for gaming's sake they are getting paid to do it while the male Players must pay for the same service. Better would be a dating website where Players are both male and female and can search for profiles of other Players who share an interest in the same games, and then they can arrange PlayDates. Monthly subscription fees are something most Gamers are familiar with anyway and it would be a whole lot fairer.
5)It costs about $8 a PlayDate, apparently as much a drink with in an American bar. The website managers claim that when you buy a girl a drink you are paying to talk to them so their website is no different. However, most girls take longer than 6-10 minutes (PlayDate length depending on the game played) to finish a drink, especially if talking to you and halfway enjoying it. Also, I don't think most places charge $8 for a drink. Maybe $4, so enough for one each, but then you get a drink out of it too, right? Yes, you get the game out of a PlayDate but you could do that for free. And, importantly, if things go well between you and a girl at a bar you could get more than conversation. Much more, in some cases. Not so with GameCrush.
6)PlayDates don't have to be single. "What?!" you cry, "A dating website that encourages cheating and adultery?!" No. GameCrush is not a dating website, as pointed out before. It is in fact much more akin to those websites not talked about in public that let you chat to a girl via webcam for thrills at an regular rate that is fairly reasonable when compared with GameCrush. PlayDates can even have their boyfriend present, and while this may gift them with bad reviews they still get paid. I don't think it's encouraged but it can still happen.


And so on and so forth. For the full paper, email me. I'd apologize for the length, but this is actually quite a sensitive issue to me. I AM a Gamer, and a geek. I'm proud of it. I still go out, have a social life (yes, I'm expecting some kind of remark hear from someone but if you don't know me then what can you really say?) and have friends. And yes, I talk to girls. I've done nearly everything possible with some of them too. I do not play games to meet women, and when I want to meet women I don't do it by playing games. GameCrush is a bad idea that could have worked if it had been thought through properly. While I don't doubt it will have a following - stereotypes are, after all, there for a reason - I don't think it'll have anywhere near the success the designers hope for.

My advice to Gamers wanting to meet GirlGamers is this; stick to games. You meet girls who like to go out when you go out, and you'll meet girls who like to game when you game. It may take longer, but it's the better way. Better than paying a large fraction of the XboxLive subscription fee to talk to a girl for ten minutes while playing games.

If all else fails, try WoW for gaming's sake; it has a huge population and girls play it quite frequently. Just don't run around as a half naked Draenei female trying to tempt them into emote-sex.

Life as we know it is not that bad.

I hate it when people tell me that their lives are terrible. Their lives are never that bad.

I was thinking about this the other day while on a very slow escalator outside my local Sainsbury's eating an M&S sandwich. This is an unusual event for me, since I only very rarely go to M&S, and the last time I did it was because I was in desperate need of a public toilet. Most of the food in M&S is far too expensive for me to afford on a budget, and when I feel like indulging - as I had done - I find most of their flavours involve fish and unusual mixtures of vegetables. This is off putting for me normally, but I'd quite happily found one that suited my tastes. Fie to Jeremy Clarkson.

Coming up the escalator in the opposite direction, just as slowly, was a young girlfriend and boyfriend. You could tell they were very much in 'love' by the way they were ignoring each other and arguing while holding hands. Or what is classed as 'love' by people of a certain age and social class in England nowadays. They definitely didn't have jobs, from the overly-loud details about their benefit claims and lack of employment. They had two kids, although they were no where to be seen so maybe this was a lie, or perhaps just proof that people without proper upbringing, education and gainful employment should be parents. They were complaining about how terrible their lives were.

No, I'll grant you, I would never trade places with them. EVER. I'm infinitely happier in my social station than there's. But their lives were not terrible. My (friends') tax-paid monies are going towards this example of dysfunctionality as per our flawed government system to keep everyone alive whether or not they're useful, decent or in fact entirely human any more. And they seemed quite happy in their designer-trash clothing and were probably going to buy a host of branded, over-priced items that are completely superfluous to their actual dietary needs. SO while they themselves are terrible examples of human beings, their lives are not terrible.

While returning my trolley (that's right, I ate my M&S sandwich is Sainsbury's while shopping there. I'm not proud, but I was hungry) I then had to use the tragically slow escalators again, which gave me another wonderful opportunity to bear witness to another person's 'terrible' life. She was probably 17ish, I don't know exactly because asking would be weird and borderline paedophilic. She was complaining about how her mother always did all her washing and helped her with her homework, and her teachers were always trying to encourage her to go to university and how she just felt so much pressure on her. Oh my God people! I wish my folks had helped with my homework. And encouragement? Wow, people. Pain.

So next time you think your life is terrible, think about it really. You life is probably pretty good, it's just - for one second - not quite as good as you would like. I have no job, dwindling funds, student debt and financially obsessive parents. But I have good friends and I'm getting work done AND having fun, importantly. If my life is not terrible, nor is yours. Unless you're a starving African child born with aids into a harsh and unforgiving world of crime and violence with little or no chance to escape but all the while you retain the knowledge that you will almost certainly die before you've completely lived. Then, I have to admit, you have a valid case for claiming a terrible life.

Still, it could be worse, right? Right...?

New Plot Proposal

So I had a really weird dream last night, kinda like one of those teen-romance-comedy movies, where I was at a university reunion (don't ask) and was telling a friend why I hadn't been back before; I had proposed to a girl at the end of our university lives with a large salmon and a note explaining why I loved her and how she was similar to the aforementioned fish. Suffice to say, that didn't even work well in dreamworld and after she (quite rightly) chastised me for doing it while saying if I'd used a ring she'd be much more inclined to say yes, I irrationally stormed off out of the university and we never saw each other again.

Then the friend told me that she was doing a speech before the reunion meal, and I could go see her then and win her back. Logically, this is an idiot move and wouldn't work. In dreamworld, this seemed like a great idea, so we set off to find her lecture. On the way we gathered up a number of our old school friends until we found where the room we were meant to be going was. At this point, we were late and had to run and it is here, I feel, that I should have figured out it was a dream; I was wearing slippers. Upon this discovery, I traded them with a passing student so I could run faster.

We got to the lecture room only slightly late, but as the girl I proposed to with a fish was also late another talk was going on about neuro-physics. I actually made the mistake of pushing a 'pull' door in my dream, so even there I suffer from uncontrollable bouts of idiocy, and then we all sat at the back. Where we proceeded to play beer pong and normal ping pong because none of us new about, nor wanted to be introduced to, neuro-physics.

Then I woke up. So I never got a chance to re-propose to the girl, minus fish. If I told a therapists that dream, I wonder what they would say?

Mainly, I was going to talk about how my lack of organizational ability means I haven't got a chance to blog and how I envy my house mate, from here on known as The Rebel, for his ability to motivate himself to start his final essay-project thing while my dissertation sits rather unhappily at the 0 words mark. It doesn't even have a greatly defined title; Empire Strikes Back: American Imperialism in Cuba. Fun in theory but since my reading pile is getting bigger as I find more sources but decide against using them I am not looking forward to the eventual late-night cram sessions actually writing my dissertation will entail. That's my own fault really, so I can't complain.

I'm pretty sure The Rebel will read this and be mildly entertained by it - if he's confused I'll tell him here that it's an ironic name, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. For now though, I have to go read about Guantanamo Bay. And not the interesting part, the legislature and legal documentation. Academic ecstasy? Probably not, especially as I've managed to retain my illness through the Lent period after giving up alcohol. I think I may have an actual problem. I'll hope to lose it in my reading somewhere.

Motiwhat?

So while my search for intelligence on Xbox Live continues - believe it or not, I'm only about 500 words into what is supposed to be a 3000 word essay based on the arguments and opinion of a mostly 12-year-old-American sub-culture - I have decided to write a short discourse on why people don't do things.

Some people may be frustrated that instead of writing the real essay I have due for Friday I'm writing yet another note - i.e. my course mates - but I feel that my arguments for the mystical powers of procrastination are furthered by the fact I'm doing this instead of that. I mean, writing an essay on procrastination with the goal of achieving something seems to be a bit of a lie. If you can get things done, what do you know about procrastination?

I've found that procrastination doesn't necessarily have to be exciting to distract you from work. I did washing up earlier, and for it's rip-roaring and adrenaline pumping action it did not in fact entertain me in the slightest - not even when I discovered another fork under the wash bowl in the sink, raising the total number of forks in my house from six to seven. If there was a clinical condition to describe the ability to makes forks disappear from existence, I think myself and all of my housemates would have near-terminal degrees of it.

Even now I'm avoiding the point. Procrastination is not the search for entertainment or excitement; it is just the search for shirking, disobedience or escaping responsibility. I would do lots of un-entertaining things to fill time so I didn't have to do work, and so would many of you reading this note - like you, Kevin!

[The likelihood of your name being Kevin is low, but in my eternal quest to make some unsuspecting blog-addict fall off his chair in shock I must continue my efforts.]

Many of you could be doing something much more worthwhile than reading this AT THIS VERY MOMENT but yet you read on - you've started now, right? So you should finish, even if it's just out of respect. I mean, it'd be rude to not finish it. Wouldn't it? And maybe you're hoping you'll find it mildly entertaining or even, if you're very lucky, amusing.

Well Santa's on his day off so I'm rewarding all the good little girls and boys for behaving well at the moment, and as stated in many of my entries I'm not the most altruistic, beneficent, generous or rewarding person God, in his wisdom, created. I am, in fact, much closer to the other end of the scale I would suspect. So if you're looking for something from this note, some small smidgen of enlightenment, entertainment or escapism, good luck I say. Admittedly my goal in life is to be a successful author and indulge all the escapists out there, so my attempted denial of your entertainment is either ironic, contradictory, self hating or a mixture of all of the above. Ah well, better add them to my list of anti-virtues....

I could have written a couple of thousand words of creative genius in the time it took to formulate and write this. I could have cleaned the house, done washing, cooked something, tidied my room or even just sat around and watched TV. But those things are pretty much the classical territory of women, and I wouldn't bring myself down to that level. I can already feel the oppressive and crushing weight of feminist fury pressing down upon me for that statement, but I feel it was worth it. One of the advantages of being single is that you rarely have to sleep on a sofa unless you want to and you cook all your own meals anyway. SO BRING ON YOUR FURY, OH YE WOMEN SCORNED!

What else can I say about procrastination? Well, it's given birth to a lot of mind-numbingly mundane but sometimes pretty damn enjoyable past times; sports, alcoholism, embroidery, art, computer games, fiction, movies, the list goes on. Yes, some people find embroidery enjoyable I'm sure. I personally couldn't embroider a table with wood if I tried but hey. And yes, embroider IS a word, a truth I was as shocked to discover as some of you may be.

I should probably do something actually productive, like write, soon. I'm in contact with a good friend quite often who is also one the creative, escapist types and she constantly depresses me with her motivation and ability to get on and get her writing done no matter her mood. I do get jealous sometimes but hey, what can you do?

Yes, the correct answer is stop being lazy, stop procrastinating and just bloody well stop being worthless. I wonder if the removal of such traits from my character would have a lethal effect. Let's find out.

Step 1 in Making a Good Essay: Defining the topic.

Believe it or not, the first thing I had to do was define the meaning of both 'Telegraphs' and 'Dreadnoughts' to most of the Modern Warfare 2 XboxLife community. Telegraphs were related to boxing and war, while dreadnoughts were defined, variously, as boats, ships, planes, missiles, tanks, battle-suits, aliens and a gun.

Firstly, in reference to the 19th Century, telegraphs should not be immediately applicable to boxing. However, amongst the debate I did recover these XBLfacts:

1)Telegraphs use paper.
2)Telegraphs also use electricity (how, as yet to be decided).
3)Telegraphs are used in boxing and they let your opponent know when you are about to attack them if you pull your punch back too far.
4)People with dead relatives receive them during war.
5)Telegraphs are named after their inventor, Sir Arthur Telegraph, who was American.
6)Culturally, people liked them so they weren't scraped.
7)In the modern world, people still like them enough so we keep them.

Genius. Remember, I am not applying any of my learned knowledge on the subject at all to either topic and will a majority consensus of opinion on information given online as 'fact'. Any truly unique comments will be attributed. If anyone wants the 'identity' of the providers of any facts, I will do my best to keep a record so you can be informed.

Moving onto Dreadnoughts:

1)They were really big ships.
2)They were usually warships. The Titanic is an example of a 'civilian dreadnought'.
3)The name is taken from a creature of Greek or Roman myth, the Dreadnought, which was a lion-dragon mixture and entirely amde from metal.
4)They are still used in modern warfare, mainly to take down Aircraft carriers.
5)Submarines cannot sink modern dreadnoughts.
6)In the future, they will be used either as a super-heavy tank or a battle-suit style body armour to battle aliens.
7)Culturally, people had to like them as if they didn't they had to face the dreadnought itself, hence the saying: "Facing the dreadnought".

Yes, this essay is looking very factually correct. I hadn't heard the saying "Facing the dreadnought" until yesterday, but apparently it's a common thing said in certain areas of England. When I asked which areas of England, the player/expert in question left the game. It was also ascertained that despite the fact they were still used to take down Aircraft carriers, they are only half the size.

There was also a debate about the exact weapons inventory a dreadnought had/has. It was accepted that it differed from country to country, but it seems normal for them to be seen fitted with 200mm cannons (AC130 gunships and heavy tanks only use a 105mm for the most part), ground-to-air missiles, ground-to-ground missiles and air-to-ground missiles (presumably for when they are required to take out far-inland targets and take off...). It is also agreed that Japanese ones use lasers and partial cloaking.

Yes, Xbox Live has been a wealth of information. Today and tomorrow, I will continue my research via Modern Warfare 2 and expand my search into the realms of Left4Dead2.

Out-sourcing.

As a student, I have to write and research essays. This is not overly strenuous, especially when you know the territory. But for my current essay I have no pre-course knowledge of the topic. I have read up on it etc etc and am quite ready to write it.

However, an interesting (if un-productive) idea was presented to me the other day. While pretending to be a member of the Spetznaz Special Forces on Call of Duty 4 Modern Warfare 2 via Xbox Live earlier today, I mentioned my essay to my brother, also a faux-member of Russia's elite and infamous special forces. Then someone else in the game decided they could educate me on the topic.

There is very little factual information, in my opinion, that Xbox gamers can gift me with on the topic of how Telegraphs and Dreadnoughts were viewed from a cultural perspective.

But, in the spirit of fair play, I have decided to write two essays; one will be a serious attempt to enhance my university grades, and the other will be written purely based on what I am told by gamers on Xbox Live. Simply because I have that much time on my hands, as all the jobs in my university city go to the young, attractive women. That only be a debatable two-out-of-three description of myself I feel the job market is slightly sexist. Rar, arch-feminism.

I will be presenting my findings/research/nonsense-gatherings via this blog, along with the usual rants and internal monologue that appears here, for the entertainment of whomsoever feels the desire to explore my tiny corner of the interweb. I pray to God I do not get the two papers confused on the day I have to hand one in.

Christmas Fallout

Every year after Christmas, in the week leading up to New Year's Eve/Day, I find there's a lull in people's life as they try to recover. Eating too much, drinking too much, doing too much; it all catches up to you. That late night on Christmas Eve when you were wrapping presents until the wee hours of the morning, that huge meal on Christmas Day that made you think you'd never have to eat again or the evening of drinking away everything else except the family and friends you were celebrating with. After that, everyone needs a break, right?

I did not drink this Christmas but was definitely guilty of the other two. And yes, I wanted a week to chill out before having to do all the wild things expecting of a young man on New Year's.

But what about the people who had a terrible Christmas? The people who went to see family they don't really get on with out of some sense of tradition and responsibility that has nothing to do with the spirit of Christmas? All those people who sat around in a room with people they barely talk to any other day of the year making sad, awkward little conversations while they desperately try to pass the time?

Or worse, in my opinion, the people who had no one to be with on Christmas. What about them? The people who woke up on the 25th and had no one to spend it with, and nothing to do except try to find a way to escape their loneliness?

The amount of social and cultural pressure that Christmas hammers onto people, or our society hammers on people around Christmas is crazy and unnecessary. Yes, it's nice to get presents and see people happy when they open the one you got them and like it but it's not just about that. What about people who can't afford presents? Or have no one to give them to? Yes, it's nice to spend time with family, but what about those people who's families have suffered schisms or splits where favourites have to be unwillingly chosen or everyone has to pretend everything's okay? What about the people who know they'll be spending Christmas alone but have to watch the depressingly yet reliably repetitive Christmas commercials that emphasize family and togetherness?

I think there's something unfair about Christmas in our world; people shouldn't HAVE to celebrate it. I'm not saying don't, no at all. But why should people feel forced to subscribe to it when they don't believe in it? Or want to celebrate it differently? Or don't have anyone to celebrate it with? Or would plain old just rather do something else? I'm not encouraging people to try and make others forget about Christmas or not celebrate it, no even slightly as that would be the same thing I'm trying to argue against; socio-culutral pressure should not force someone's decision about what to do with their holidays.

I, personally, will always celebrate Christmas because of both my religious and personal beliefs, but to all those people out there who just want to enjoy their holidays: DO IT! I would rather people were happy at Christmas time and remembered it as a good time than conformed to society's norms and made themselves unwilling participants in something which, for them, would be remembered as the least happy time of year, and one that they never looked forward to.

I don't like humbugs but if any friends wish to do so, I'm quite happy to say "Bah, Skittle!" with you.

Judgment Not Welcome

Who, out there, has ever been on an internet forum? For anything; academics, topic interest, boredom, anything. That's not what I'm ranting about today.

Today, I hate the people who think the internet is some kind of safe haven or refuge from the plights of their lives and how everyone judges them 'based on who they are'.

Firstly, the internet offers no safety. The internet is the home and hunting ground of the emotional and intellectual predator known as "Anonymous". "Anonymous" is, according to the Laws of the Internet:
3. Anonymous is legion.
4. Anonymous does not forgive, Anonymous does not forget.
5. Anonymous can be a horrible, senseless, uncaring monster.
6. Anonymous is still able to deliver.

It is worth noting that the fact the beast "Anonymous" can deliver is only given after the other three rules, and so is less likely and relevant than the others.

Posting in a forum puts you immediately at risk from attack by "Anonymous". Rule 3: It it legion. Without number. This gives it the huge advantage of being able to be in many - potentially infinite - places at once. No matter how much you love and hide your forum, Anonymous will find it. And the Anonymous will destroy your haven, your refuge.

And Anonymous will judge you. The internet can be accessed by, potentially, everyone. Someone who wants to ruin your life will comment and do their best to achieve this goal.

So we have ascertained that the internet is not somewhere you can hide, or somewhere to pour out your closest loves and fears. This leads on to the second point about being judged; You are always judged. Fact. No-one who forms an opinion of you does not judge you. How else are opinions formed? Without judgment, we couldn't make friends or choose music tastes of really have a conversation. Therefore, we must judge others and be judged in return.

Second, if you don't want to be judged for who you are, what should you be judged on? I mean, honestly. I want to be judged for who I am because I like who I am - if you don't want to be judged on who you are, then you don't like who you are or think you are. Sort it out yourself. Don't whine on the internet about how no body understands you and how terrible your life is and why slitting your wrists it at the same time appealing but depressing.

WE'VE ALL BEEN FOURTEEN AND FIFTEEN BEFORE! We got through it. My suggestions would be stop listening to music played and sung by men who wear skinny jeans and enough eye-liner to drown a camel, and then go out and have a life. Get some freaking sunshine. Vitamin D does wonders for your music taste.

Step Two: Don't post on forums about your emotional insecurities. Anonymous will find, eat and rape them. Maybe in that order.

The next time I see someone begging not to be judged for who they are and trying to explain why emo-music is good for the soul, I'll let Anonymous possess me and do horrible things to you. And your mum, your cat, your favourite band - all at the same time - your music player. Hopefully you get the message.

Failing that threat having import to you, go do half the things you're music sings about. Then you'll have done me a favour and saved me the effort.

Beauty and the Beast: Revisited

Right, I've just finished this acclaimed Disney ‘masterpiece’ and it’s swiftly becoming quite likeable. I have laughed out loud more than once. It is, admittedly, magnificently flawed but that adds to what its makers call the ‘charm’ of the film.

You can tell it’s a Disney film when ‘evil’ is defined as spoilt, selfish and unkind. I mean, to be honest, that makes almost every aristocrat ever ‘evil’, which is a neat bit of class-warfare propaganda. I mean, come on; he has everything he wants, no wonder he’s spoilt and selfish, and it’s tough to be those two things and not be unkind too. Being honest, the enchantress is far more evil than the prince/beast, as she condemns some poor eleven year old boy to being turned into an animal that looks like many folklore descriptions of the devil for all his life – or ever, the film isn’t clear on that point – simply because he doesn’t let her in when she looks like an old hag and offers to pay rent with a rose.

Really? That’s a legitimate and reasonable thing to do with ones glorious, magical powers? Go around terrorizing pre-teen boys because they don’t understand the concept of inner beauty and/or don’t trust old women? Yes, it’s teaching him an important moral lesson, but she could have done it for, say, a year and then changed him back while threatening to do it again if he didn’t buck up and find some decency. That woman is heartless.

As an aside, where will you find someone who will take in an old lady for the night who offers recompense with flowers? I mean, gypsies give flowers away all the time and you wouldn’t let one in your house, right? Admittedly, you would wake up grateful that they’d brought the flower but that’s only because pretty much everything that wasn’t nailed down would be gone the next morning.

Now the Beast; he’s a little ungrateful for his condition. Yes, he’s not human any more. No, he’s probably not classically attractive to women. But at least he has shiny, healthy fur, super-human strength and agility AND still retains opposable thumbs. I mean, in medieval Europe he could have carved out an empire; he’s already got the castle and everything else he wanted (apparently), a private army shouldn’t be too hard to come by. Plus, at the age of eleven being turned into a hugely strong and fast animal is what a lot of boys pretend to do anyway; realistically, he wouldn’t become depressed until puberty hit hard at about 15-16, and since there are no women in the castle anyway this would be mitigated quite a bit I’d imagine.

That’s another thing; that bitch of an enchantress turned all the prince’s servants into furniture. Now what was that for? What moral lesson does that teach you? Honestly, some people have some warped codes of ethics.

Gaston is very quickly become a bit of a hero for me – he grew up being taught by society what was attractive and, quite wisely to be honest, decided to become the paragon of those virtues. Yes, he’s a bit of a chauvinist and a little insensitive but this is provincial France; what did you expect? Charm? Egalitarianism? Mon Dieu and zoot alors.

Belle is odd. I know there’s a whole song about it at the beginning, but you don’t really understand until later on in the film. Her father, while patently weird, is still in control of his mental faculty and quite rightly points out he’s pretty old anyway and she shouldn’t trade places with him in the Beast’s castle. Then, once she has met the Beast, she decides to be as rude, nosey and rule-breaking as she can be with all the suicidal persistence of manically depressed lemming. She could inherit this trait from her father who, before becoming trapped in the Beast’s castle, decides to take a dark and winding path rather than the straight, well lit one when lost after uttering the famous last words, “This way, don’t worry; it’s a short cut.” I can excuse him somewhat in that, having grown up pre-20th century, he wouldn’t have seen any American horror movies. If he had, he’d know that phrases like, ‘it’s a short cut,’ and ‘let’s split up,’ are nearly always synonymous with ‘we’re all going to die.’

Big, angry beast-person bellows at you not to go into the West Wing. Logical response: Go there. This, in my opinion, is a bit of a cognitive failure.

Oh yeah, and where the hell did Belle learn to read in pre-renaissance provincial France?

Back to her suicidal urges. When she does go into the already forbidden West Wing, she investigate with all the blind hope and willful neglect of personal safety only otherwise found in science fiction characters, computer gamers and the late Steve Irwin, who will go to any lengths and reach any point in the search for something new or shiny.

When she removed the case from the rose, I was reminded horribly of the scene in Alien where the scientist puts his head over the self-opening alien egg to look inside. Sure enough, BAM! The Beast appears and is, surprise, surprise, pretty pissed off. Yes, he has an angry fit but he does have pending psychological worries and a unique physical condition to be concerned about. Belle’s answer to the question, ‘What are you doing here?’ is classically terrible – ‘I’m sorry!’ No explanation.

You can also tell this was set in western France, as the Beast’s castle is massive yet unnoticed. As in vast, huge and colossal at the same time. If this had been the area now known as Germany or further into Eastern Europe, this would never have happened. Instead, pretty soon after the enchantress pulled her nasty little stunt on the prepubescent prince, a mob of peasants with pitchforks and burning torches would have rushed to castle screaming, “Slay ze monster!” Apparently, the inhabitants of nearby villages in France look up at an amazing piece of gothic architecture and just thing, “That’s nice, I wonder who lives there?” and then forget all about it.

This happens later when Gaston saves the day; as soon as he finds out about the Beast, he’s there to protect the village, with courage and keen blade. And lots of fire, the logical weapon of choice when attacking a stone castle. Classic mob mistake, but I'll forgive it; you need to follow tradition, right?

As for the ever present and apparently limitless pack of wolves outside the Beast’s castle, well. They look pretty well fed, glossy coats and all. I doubt they’d attack anything as large and clearly predatory as the beast just to get at Belle and her horse. In fact, they seem pretty intent on decidedly not attacking either of them convincingly; no hamstringing, no surrounding tactics, no normal wolf maneuvers. Maybe French wolves are just less up for violent things. Or maybe the Beast paid them so he could impress Belle. Cunning ploy there.

Gaston let me down at the end by begging for his life. I guess he is French so there was only so long before his courage failed and he had to stab someone in the back.

At the end of the film, suddenly all is forgiven and the castle becomes host to a huge ball – quite where, in the countryside of provincial France, so many well-to-do aristocrats appeared is an interesting question but I’ll let it go for now.

Moral of the story is; if an old woman comes to your door needing a place to stay and all she offers as a thank you is a rose, shoot her.
J.C.

N.B. Firstly, I worked out that the prince was eleven when cursed because the rose would wilt on his 21st birthday and the servants/furniture said they’d been waiting ten years for a girl to come to the castle. Secondly, Fifi the feather duster is hot when she gets turned back into a human. Lucky Lumiere.

Self-improvement through re-education.

A lot of my friends have started talking about self-improvement recently. I don't know why; maybe it's because New Year's is coming up and they need resolutions, or they've had an experience that's made them feel unhappy about how they conduct themselves. Personally, I feel self-improvement isn't something that should be talked about, it should just be done.

Well done everyone who goes out (or stays in) and does a good thing everyday. Even better done if you didn't tell anyone about it.

I say this because while good works are all well and, ha ha, good, seeking credit or reward for them undermines the action a little bit in my opinion. If you're only 'self-improving' to be rewarded for it, then really your just self-indulging, right? Yes, you've something good but really you did it for you, so you could get that nice little glow inside. Unfortunately, because it wasn't an honest act of altruism that glow goes away pretty soon and you think, 'What's the point? I didn't get much out of it.'

Which is exactly why you should do things for other people; because then every time you see them you'll get a warm glow inside. Anyone out there who knows me will be a mite suspicious right now as they'll be wondering exactly why I'm talking about this - I don't usually do the charity thing. I'm not afraid to admit it, I like to see the results of my actions. Giving money to a faceless organization that claims to help the world etc and not seeing it happen seems like a quick-fix or get-out clause for someone's morals to me.

Every time I walk into town where I live at the moment, I will pass one or more homeless people. I am increasingly considering stopping to talk to one of them - which one exactly I'm not sure of, there's a bit of choice where I live - and maybe buy them a sandwich or something if they'd appreciate it. Again, I'm skeptical about giving money to beggars because you never know quite what they do with it. I have images of some of them, so desperate are they to get ahead in life, throwing it into every wishing well or body of water they can find in a superstitious and ill-founded attempt to gain that which they desire.

Technically, that could be a reference to alcoholism. It's not, but look at it as one if you like. It's really quite clever that way, rather than watching homeless people throwing money away as an offering to a probably-non-existent-water-deity.

back to my point - which some might say I have yet to make - I feel self-improvement happens as a by-product of ones actions rather than it being something you can pursue or set your mind to achieving; there's no defined manner in which people can improve themselves, except by almost accidentally achieving it. I'm sure people will point out to me that you can do good things etc, but as I tried to explain (probably poorly) above doing good things for your benefit reduces the goodness of those things. However, deciding to do something to actually benefit or help others somehow - as a small number of my friends have begun to do - and getting something out of it almost coincidentally will actually go further towards a self-improvement goal.

Good for those who self-improve, better for those who help improve the lives of others. Best of all to those who did it anyway and didn't ask for recognition.

Actions speak louder than words, and some actions have the power of a gunshot, and can shock and awe the world to the same extent.


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N.B. Don't take the above analogy literally - there are very few good acts that can be done with a gun, they aren't exactly the primary instrument of charity. At least, no charity I'd consider charitable.

Apologies to my housemates - kinda

It has been noted by my housemates that during my week without Xbox I was not completely Xbox-less. I did 'play' Call of Duty 4 - 2 somewhat but since it is described by its designers as a cinematic experience rather than a game I feel I am slightly excused. My housemates would disagree but that would be their problem.

I'd also make apologies about other things but that's not really what I'm going to write about. Today I'm going to write concerning...world peace. Yes, world peace. And why I disagree with it. Not as an ideal, but as a concept.

You really think world peace is achievable in the next hundred years? Think about for it a second; every single nationalistic and patriotic tendency put to rest, every prejudice forgotten and discarded and rivalries and feuds ended for the greater good? Doesn't sound very human, does it?

This is because, at heart, I don't think people want to be at peace. Everyone likes a challenge - those who don't I'm going to generalize into either the category 'liar' or 'afraid of failure', neither of which I accept as a good reason to deny a challenge.

Without challenge, we wouldn't better ourselves - what would be the point? What would we need to improve if there were no challenges? The only life-form that has no real challenges in its existence is plants and trees, and even then I'd argue that a chainsaw might warrant some rather interesting selective evolution on behalf of the Earth's vegetation.

But what about the fuel crisis? Fossil fuel shortage? The O-zone layer? Extinction of other species? The solving of the mysteries of life?

I would say people would be more inclined to find an answer if there was some competitive reward to it - who finds the answer first. And whoever finds that answer, or whichever nation, will then play that advantage against the others, trading extortionately for will become an invaluable and necessary resource. Why have peace when you can be better than someone, right? Or everyone else.

Admittedly, that's not a very nice way to look at humanity but it's historically accurate. Did the U.S. share its discovery of fusion with the world to help deal with power shortages? Did the British Empire share its steam engine designs with the world? Was not gunpowder first traded extortionately before others could find its secret? Did Rome spread civilization peaceably to its neighbouring nations?

No, no, no and no. Because if you have an advantage, you use it. Otherwise it's not really an advantage. I'm pretty sure whoever invented the wheel covered in in canvas or animal skins to hide its secrets from others before letting the cat out of the bag when he died.

People argue that people don't share advantages with everyone because then others will use it against the creators. Shock horror. If, say, Kazakhstan perfected solar power and refused to share the technology with the U.S. or Europe, it would be for just political reasons - admittedly, we'd probably go in and do war until we got it but the those wily Kazaks might tear down the facilities and burn the evidence so we get nothing. They wouldn't share it because they'd fear to have it used against them and I'm pretty sure America would well do in one of its crusades for oil.

As soon as the second monkey found out how to use a club, he killed the first because it was the only other one who knew the secret. The secret of the club was a distinct advantage over other monkeys, and the best monkey got all the food and girl monkeys. So why share if you don't have to?

Yes, I'm judging, Yes, harshly and without a view to religion or other such humane elements of humanity. Doesn't change the fact that in the predominant number of examples I'm, sadly, right.

I'd be upset but since I'm not too bothered about world peace etc right now then I can hardly get too emotionally involved. I'm not bothered because right now in my house there's no hot water and a host of other more immediately applicable, albeit selfish, concerns.

But if I didn't care about me, I wouldn't be human right? No, I don't think I'm better or more deserving than other people. I just can't help them right now and going to the trouble of finding a way to do so would mean I'd compromise my position in a capitalist society built around the one and self-service. Sad but true. I'd hate the world but lucky for me I'm in quite a good position to cogitate on these things - and if you cared about personally saving the world you wouldn't be reading internet blogs when you're bored, would you, Adrian?

Your name's probably not Adrian but it was worth a shot for the chance someone named Adrian might fall off their desk chair in shock and then go change the world for the better. See, I'm doing my part; are you?

Life Goes On

So my week without Xbox comes to a close. It wasn't that big a sacrifice, as it turns out; I had plenty of fun and got some work done. But I didn't go out that much more, I didn't crave it's sweet radiated rapture and I didn't get any additionally work done - less, probably, but for unrelated reasons.

From this I can pretty much be safe in saying I'm not addicted to it, I just enjoy it. What I have done is watch a lot more films, which is worse for my mental and intellectual health I'm sure. This is not a slur on films in general, just on the ones I watched.

Apart from Starship Troopers, which is epic, and the Chinese films the others were not that fantastic. During Jennifer's Body I actually found myself wanting to turn it off because I was so uninvolved, and a couple of the others were just annoying - I almost shouted at the screen because of their lack of feasibility.

I very nearly gave up what remains of my soul by voluntarily watching Twilight, but my hand got leprosy when I touched the DVD. Taking this to be a bad sign, I didn't watch the film. The morning afterward my hand was fine.

I was also invited to see New Moon. That person may not know it yet, but we're no longer friends - it's official, I de-added on Facebook. Yeah, that shit got real...

So, moving swiftly away from silly films about adolescent vampires and desperate, necrophiliac teenage girls, I believe that Xbox is a healthy divergence away from other anti-boredom activities, like watching terrible films. So problem solved.

I also discovered that the apple juice I drink has as much sugar per hundred mill as a can of coke. Yes, I may have run out of things to do once. But at least my teeth will thank me.

Nearly done...

So the week is nearly up...I've lost 2 pounds of weight and gone to the gym far more than I am used to. Depressingly, this has only put me off going more often.

While technically I have used the Xbox, it was only for films and dvds. I found I have a good number of Jackie Chan films, most of which I've revisited, and have come to the conclusion that this is not a bad thing. While not having deep, insightful or philosophical messages, they are very entertaining. I think that this is, in part, because they were fun to make and the actors enjoyed doing so.

I get this idea for no real reason, no documentary proof, so really it's just an opinion but I like to think these films, and all entertaining films too, were not a chore to create and shoot, but something fun and enjoyable. I personally find anything I do that is fun will be fun to watch.

Sex is an exception, mostly. 'Mostly' because I think watching Megan Fox and Elisha Cuthbert have sex would be great fun.

Yes, I just lowered the tone but hey, this is an internet blog; what did you expect? High quality and insightful dialogue? Life changing soliloquies? Decency? That's not what the Internet's for, sorry.

I may be dead tomorrow, not because of lack of Xbox, but Twilight exposure; my housemate found a way to trick me into watching it. So I might have to find a way out of watching it.

Girls being love sick over walking corpses was never my thing. Chinese theatre, now at least that's entertianing.