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.