Month: August 2013

Gaming 1Oh 1

First person shooters or what is now most commonly know as FPS.

Is a Genre of game that is –  as its name suggests – a first person game where you shoot people. Oh…the joy!

Clearly, a game genre that gets the synapses firing.

FPS games are never single player friendly. While there is a single player narrative – and I use this term loosely.

FPS games are generally all about its Multi-player component.

Therefore, If you do not wish to go online and play there is not much depth or reason in playing a FPS.

FPS also have a steep and unforgiving learning curve. This is so, simply because you will be up against people

who do nothing but play whichever specific FPS you are currently interested in.

Which means logging on and dying, re-spawning ( aka coming back to “life”) and dying again. Basically, you

will be experiencing a simulacrum of the cycle of life: Death and rebirth. With about as much fun as it would be

to actually be violently killed resurrected and be sadistically murdered once more.

While the one who killed stands over your cadaverous coil gloating at his accomplishments.

Essentially, FPS is an exercise in masochism, for those who do not play it professionally or as their main source of gaming.

My conclusion:

Lets take the Darwinian approach.

If men were indeed evolved from apes. Then playing a FPS is the equivalent of evolutionary regression.

That is, if said evolutionary process does not have ‘Counterstrike’ and or ‘Half-life’ in its name.

The way to counter-act this?

Play Role playing games; most commonly known as RPG.

A game genre in which success or failure depends on your level perception, attention to detail and the ability to
think critically.

This is a genre in which you have to weigh the moral and ethical implications of your actions to gain a desired outcome.

Playing an RPG is a lot like writing an Essay.

  • You will have to listen intently to find out the aim and direction you need to go in (Lectures)
  • You will then need to do some investigative reading (Going to the Library)
  • Then analysing and using the information gathered to make progress (The act of writing said Essay)

While we all don’t like writing essays, we all love getting good marks.

This is all for now ladies and gents.

If you are wondering what I am saying about people who only play FPS games -with only being the operative

Then: Play less FPS’

If you are still in the dark, lets evaluate this in terms of musical talent.

FPS = Souja Boy.

RPG = 2Pac



A Freudian moment!


Remember when you went to the Hospital as a child? It would be a very pleasant event. You didn’t like the injection you were going to get but, at the very least, you weighed the risks versus the rewards.

The risk being a very nice lady in white – or in colour depending on where you live – would come up to you, speak with you in a soothing voice  and offer you a sweet of some sort. She would proceed to entertain you so as to take your focus away from the fact she was about to poke you in the arm with a three-inch needle.

For the most part she would succeed and you would only suffer  a minor discomfort from the ordeal.

The reward  was probably another sweet and a balloon after she was finished. At which point Mom or Dad would take you to your favourite fast food restaurant.

All in all,  it would have been a very productive day.

As you grow older..this began to take on new meanings.

For some reason as you got older. you stopped being able to get injections in the arm.
I am not sure what changes happened in the human body past the age of 10, that Doctors and Nurses are able to discern. That they deem an injection in the arm to be an ineffectual process.

Furthermore, you no longer got a sweet. Ideally, you wouldn’t want one anyway. Grown ups do not accept sweets as gifts after a Doctors visit. That would be quite the Faux Pas.

Granted, you may have already take some sweets from the desk of the receptionist on your way in. But, in your mind that was not a reward. That was your right.

Doctors appointments aren’t cheap after all. And you would be hell-bent on milking it for all you can.,


It is safe to say I am a little anal sometimes, when it comes to germs.

Let me share an anecdote:

Whenever I touch something dirty. I need to wash my hands immediately.

If I do not, they start to itch. If I do not wash them after they start to itch. Then they start to get swollen and red, to the point where I can barely curl my fingers.

I was at work, I touched something. I felt my hands start to Itch. By this time it is standard procedure to wash my hands immediately.

Unfortunately, that day I was out of the special anti bacterial soap I use for this task.
Not to be deterred, I found some soap and washed my hands.

Surprisingly, the itch did not go away, it just became mild. When I got home I showered immediately. I felt I was in the clear.

Only to wake up with hands that felt like I had covered them with honey and dipped them into a nest of emaciated ants. Now, instead of being planar, my hands had a distinctly rotund disposition.

To be succinct, I had to rush to the hospital and go to emergency.

My hands were rebelling, they were on the verge of a nuclear fallout with plasma and platelets.
This is where things go awry.

If you remember how I started this post. You can see where this is going.

I was informed by the Nurse  – in blue – that I need to get an injection.

I am no stranger to injections. So I went into the room and sat on the chair with my sleeve rolled up.

The Nurse came in, looked at me, then told me to drop my pants.

At this stage, my brain has started to produce so much adrenalin I am about to go into fight or flight mode. And since my hands were in dire straits, I was heavily predisposed to the latter.
Needless to say, I ended up with palms flat on a counter top, knees slightly splayed, my Jeans near or around my knees and a needle stuck in my left check.

There is a reason you relax your arm before an injection.

While the pain is only ephemeral. Getting an injection in a muscle that is tense from terror. Is not a walk in the park.
What is the point? Why am I writing this?

If you need to ask, clearly you have never gotten an  injection in the derriere.

And I hope after reading this post, you don’t plan to do so.  ^_^

PS. I am not Trypanophobic. I would just prefer it in the arm.

Ideas of an emaciated mind

There is never a definitive idea that I can pin down that gives me the impetus to write. But I can never write

something without proper motivation.

What IS definite is that my creativity is  inexorably linked with my need for cathartic release.

Being somewhat introverted – shocking, I know – there comes a time when I need to release pent-up ‘ideas’.

I find it is somewhat difficult to relate to people directly. Therefore, I write.

Not everything I write is prosaic. However, I hesitate to  use the term poetic. I feel that until I can reach a level of

quality and competency. That would be presumptuous; and may create expectations that I may be unable to

fulfill or meet adequately.

Here is a piece I have written. I am not sure how man iterations of this I have attempted.

However, it is at a point now that if I changed it. The tone I wanted to capture would be lost.

As I write this, I have no title. I rarely –  if ever –   assign titles.

However, I see the necessity. So I shall call this

On saying goodbye. 

If I could see you one more time,
I would have already resolved within my mind.
To tell you..I love.. the way you left without saying goodbye.
I do not laugh, I do not jest
You, I, and this relationship? I’m not ready.
No. Not quite yet
What is it that I want? I really wish I knew.
But apparently, here in this moment. It isn’t you.
I do not wish to be rapacious, or to hurt your feelings.
I have just realised, this: our love. Has reached its ceiling.
I do not like the way we can’t get along.
I know not what happened. Perhaps, we’ve been here far too long.
I do not like the way I feel, when I have not seen you for a week.
No. I’m not excited. I just feel bleak.
I do not love the way you pretend to care
When your love for me is like a Dirigible: filled with so much hot air.
I tell you these things not because I think it will matter,
But to cut through the fog, that is this senseless chatter
I know you will see this as no more than mere spiel.
Alas, I’ve gotten to express the way I feel.
Ere we go, and part ways forever.
I have one thing to say. That I thought quite clever.
If I could see you one more time,
I would have already resolved within my mind
To tell you, I hate that I never had the chance to say goodbye

Before I depart. This song… is a favourite of mine. I feel it somewhat encapsulates the tone – if not meaning – of what I was aiming for.  It is called: Water and a Flame. By Daniel Merriweather and Adele.

Questions were made to be asked.

Men and women are considered to be diametrically opposed. My mind is always working and so I’m always curious as to the specifics behind this view-point.

I will admit there are some differences. However, there are others things on which I would like to have some light shed.

I am motivated by the possibility that as different as we are. We may share some similarities.

Some of these maybe biological in nature. While others are just socially enforced differences.

To Wood.. or not to wood? Or rather…the voice in the wood?

Although, technically, the double entendre above would be complete if the preposition was “On”. But then, that would be telling.

It is widely known that men have morning wood. If you don’t know what a morning wood is, either you aren’t male, you do not know any men, you have never spoken to one. Or you have yet to discover the internet.

Whatever the case may be, I certainly will not be shedding any light on the matter.

The question is, however, do women share this trait. Or, perhaps, something similar.

Owning to the fact that it is called morning wood. Based, on the metaphorical references that gives it an identity without being risque.

Following this train of thought, if it were possible that women could experience this.

Wouldn’t that mean the female equivalent would be called morning voice?

Again, if you do not know why the metaphor is voice.

You are either

A: Too young to be reading this
B: Way more sheltered than I could possibly give you credit for.
C: You’ve never seen one before…

And finally D: you did not understand the double entendre I mentioned earlier.
If any of the above are true. Then clearly some very vital information was left out of that “Birds and the Bees” conversation you had with your parents.

Moving on.

When two people in a relationship -male, female. Consummate their relationship by performing oral favours.

They always refer to this act using metaphors that refer to the brain. Which of course makes sense, since it is often said Men have two heads.When they do something stupid the little one is responsible for doing a majority the thinking – or lack thereof.

So technically, if you give your woman oral favours. Should it not be called mouth to mouth resuscitation?

If you know what I mean meme

It is oft said women like cuddling and men do not. Allegedly.

I have always wondered why cuddling had to be laying together face to face in such a fashion that you are forced  to breathe each others carbon dioxide as opposed actually getting oxygen.

Perhaps it sounds cute and romantic. However, practically it seems rather uncomfortable in its execution.

If cuddling was chilling with your guy or girl while they played a game ,listened some music or while reading a book. But being in close and comfortable proximity of each other. I could see that working.

I am oft curious about these peculiarities. I thought, perhaps, you all could shed some light on these ‘inconsistencies’.

The next time you have some time… you can ask your significant other. And if you don’t have one. Well, you can always ask a friend.

As I am honestly curious as to the answers women would provide.
If you are wondering why I do not ask these things myself. Well what would be the fun in asking these questions solely for my benefit?