Time-sink

Now, seeing as I'm sitting at night/morning in a general state of post-Christmas/pre-exam depression, I might as well push away all daunting notions of having to do any sort of work.
Taking Christmas into review, I'd say it held a couple of nice surprises, the main surprise being a FANTABULOUSLY GORGEOUS digital camera, with which I hereby vow to go completely nuts.

Secondly I've been afflicted with various forms of addictions to several games; something I'd really like to call a manner of a OCD, but that'd just be one big fat excuse of a self-deceiving lie. I'll use that excuse anyway.

Now... I'd like to send a message of lovehate to developers Popcap and Infinity Ward. Yes, you time-stealing, dirty, ridiculously talented douchebags, I'm talking to you. You all ought to be in line for a painful tour of a rusted medieval torture chamber while listening to every single abyssmal boyband ever to rise from the infernal depths of the music industry. Making such a ludicrously addictive simple puzzle game as Peggle should be outlawed. It's not even particularly exciting or rewarding, but I can't get my fucking eyes away from it unless I'm playing Call of Duty 4, which is another display of stupefyingly entertaining fireworks in the form of multiple kinds of armed mayhem in various ruined oriental cities or, to spice things up, on a cargo ship.
And as if the horribly high entertainment value wasn't enough, they've also included a deviously satisfying experience and challenge system, which keeps you glued to the screen until you've achieved "just one more promotion". Given my current rate I might just as well assume that I won't get any bloody amount of revision done for my exam, and that I will remain a spawn-camping killerbum for the rest of my sorry caucasian life.

NOW I'm going to force myself to get some rest before I get some stupid idea like trying to improve my skills with some godawful and completely pointless shotgun - that no sane man would ever use - simply because using it gives XP.

Gaming status December.

Merry Christmas!? Yes, it's that time ... oh wait, it began back in October...ish. Buy more crap at special prices. Everywhere.

Besides the depressive commercialism, Christmas is actually alright. Apart from the raving tendency to ensure that every student must endure abnormally bad timing as far as written assignments and exams are concerned. Well not me this year, hahahahahaha! /unnecessary gloating

Yes, that's right. Well okay, maybe there's some revision to do, but otherwise I've carved a path through the very worst of what had to be overcome. Mixing it with purty, purty Christmas lights on every street, it's almost enough to cheer me up, combined with a mixture of actually quite good games which happen to be available to me, in spite of the overall shittiness of the gaming market for sad RPG-lovers like myself. The day the number of worthwhile RPGs that are non-bleedingMMO for PC is on the rise is the day I'll open my heart to astrophysics and become a lifetime member of Scientology. As a result I've converted out of necessity to the FPS and RTS genres because I don't dare the event horizon of the big black hole that is my WoW account, which has been locked in every possible way as to prevent its malevolent influence.
So instead of dying pointlessly in various instances and battlegrounds, I now die repeatedly and pointlessly in various teamplay maps, whether it involves an ungodly amount of sticky bombs, a cheeky sniper with X-ray vision and superhuman reflexes or an Unreal Tournament 3 Darkwalker kindly stepping on my poor, fragile and customly designed reptillian body of questionable biological plausibility.

On the brighter side of the blandly multicoloured spectrum of virtual treats, Psychonauts still stands as a surprisingly fresh experience, breaking my sorry state of perpetual déjà vu.
I mean, fighting a genetic memory of Napoleon Bonaparte inside the mind of one of his descendants can't do anything but rock.

And that's it for me lest I need an overdose of coffee to achieve a bare minimum of survival at university in the morning.

Whatever.

I came to the conclusion that I don't really want to keep repeating my psychological state here because it bores the Hell out of me and just depresses me even more. So instead I'm just going to ramble about various topics that I rampantly pick out of the blue.

Now, a birthday and one horridly boring assignment later, I sit in a caffeine-induced state of sleepless mania, trying with some febrile measure of desperation to find something to think about. Well indeed there's a lot to think about. But is any of it really worth it?

Who cares.

The other day I saw something that perplexed me somewhat. It's not that I hadn't seen anything like it before, but this time I actually stopped to think about it. At the local train station, which I frequent, almost every morning I see the same 50-year-old-ish man standing there trying to hand out pamphlets for Jehovas Witnesses. First of all, almost no one is at all interested. I once heard some guy say that to be a Jehovas Witness is to know hate, and I think most of us can agree that they're bloody annoying. We're talking about a decadent sect who don't believe in blood donation and frequently predict the end of the world, and then, when the world does in fact not end, make some absurd claim to justify their logic. I'm not sure I truly believe that it's healthy faith that drives a man to stand at that station every morning...
*Feel the thought hanging in the air*

In other news, Roland Barthes is the devil. No, please don't look him up.

Upside down... again?!

Well, everything is spinning around at the moment. Can't quite get a hold of what's up and down. Maybe that's a good thing and maybe not - only time will tell. Anyway, as usual there are all these things I should be doing but then again can't be arsed to do, which doesn't really help much in the long run.

That's not to say that my academic efforts are in perpetual paralysis, but it is to say that I'll have a lot of catching up to do very very soon. And joy, what fun I shall have!

I completed the Witcher, and I completed Deadhouse Gates (the latter after a long and sporadic period of partial reading), and now I'm plunging into greater depths with the sequel to Deadhouse Gates, named Memories of Ice. Is that really all that's happening in my life? No, but some of the rest is really none of your business (assuming there are any readers but me!)

Tomorrow I'm calling a psychologist. Very exciting...!

What is it your hear? Silence again. The oppressive silence of depressing thoughts, and why now? No, the reason isn't emo-related. Much, much worse; election-related.

Denmark ends up with another period where a consortium of right-wing nuts get the power to veto practically any sensible proposal that might occur at any point.

Result? I'm pretty much drowning all my sorrows in computer games, movies and books? Result? I get no homework done. Result? Eh... It's not on my current list of priorities to work out.
Besides there are other things to notice.

Denmark saw its first dose of snow this part of the year, and it feels odd to think that one year back I was out there on a heavy bicycle delivering mail and commercials to people. Well, I don't really miss having to face the frost before 6 a.m. in the morning. The darkness wears me down - but makes me think a bit...

Think of how much that never happens because people don't act. Sometimes in the train you smile at a stranger, and the person smiles back. But for some reason you don't start talking... You might be too tired. You might be too scared. You might not really want to... But it annoys me when I want to talk but am feeling too tired to do it. It has nothing to do with some stupid attempt at learning everything about the person in question because that's impossible, but maybe, just maybe that individual has something interesting to say. Maybe something you'll find yourself thinking or smiling about on the way home.
We all have something to offer each other, even if it's just a little thing, but it's those precious things that are sometimes a pity to waste.

And that's my tuppence of pseudo-philosophy for the night.
Just remember, there's no sense crying over spilled napalm.

Passing

Why the silence? Well, the days grows darker and darker. I'm still adjusting, but things are looking alright as I find a balance.

First of all: Elections. Denmark has been launched into the good old election circus, with clowns competing for votes with novel tricks that grow ever more spectacular. Well... We've seen it before, although a new sort of spice seems to have found its way into the fray. The political landscape has grown more likely to provide a few surprises, with one new party formed and a few jokers here and there. Still, I think I know where my vote ends, and there is rarely any point in watching the endless duels between liars and hippocrites.

Between social activities and studies, I find myself on the great battlefields of World War II, or in the dark fantasy world of the Witcher. In my eyes, a good single-player RPG is ideally like a good book that draws you in... the difference is that you have choices in a game, and you don't have to conjure up images to imagine the world - which is of course both good and bad. Nevertheless, the freedom that such an alternate world provides is, though limited, very refreshing.

I'm closing in on being half-way through the game, but I suspect it will take a while before I'm done. No rush though; I like exploring all the little quirks of that imaginary world.

Vacuum

If you asked me what has happened the past couple of weeks, I couldn't tell you. Or maybe I could, but... it would be fragmented, chaotic and empty. Even when you feel low there are sometimes those little bright moments when everything makes sense. The past couple of weeks were alarmingly lacking as far as those were concerned. The emergency anti-depression team arrived too late to tackle the invasion, and all but the very last line of defense fell to the merciless onslaught. When every step feels like walking through barbed wire - placed by yourself, no less - while you are proverbially hitting yourself in the face to make things even harder, you can't honestly expect an honestly good result. Maybe the self-punishment was over the top. Maybe the barbed wire was a wee bit too much of the good thing. Maybe a few cuts would be enough. Maybe you should build some confidence in yourself instead. Maybe it's pointless writing this. Maybe it isn't. Maybe I don't care. Maybe I'm writing it regardless.

It's darkness that leaves me most defenseless. I never bring a flashlight.
When you stop noticing the simple things... leaves fallen off trees, people smiling at you, your breakfast, soft rain... Something is wrong. I can't afford going numb, even though I've been close to that a few times. The worse it gets, the harder it is to face a mirror. Is that me? Is that me?

Yes...

Okay. Recap. I'm a relatively quiet guy... perhaps the awkward type. I don't usually go out a lot. My alcohol tolerance is not the best. When you take that and add too much alcohol, things usually go pretty awry. But it's a learning experience... A few people will see that I called them in the middle of the night. Don't even ask me why.

It's funny how the mind reacts to a hangover... Personally, it makes me feel like I'm trapped in some kind of surreal dream, and I can see people's faces and hear their voices. Whenever I close my eyes for just a moment, I enter the Noir Drunk Gallery with moving images of people who are pissed.

_______________________________________________________________

Waking nightmares perceive the neighbour in pantomime glory, none of its heartlight reflected in depraved memories; now in iron grip wishing for more than a pained dirge to roll over the wall of the mind, summoned strength not to last but broken and in pieces spread everywhere in the space of dark doubt, spurring onwards a spirit once lost to irrational grief, now buried in the forgotten sands of the same dream.


Note to self: get a camera.

Fragments.

Relax... It doesn't matter, does it? Just a paradigm shift in the mind.

Was nice last night seeing some of my former classmates. Some things change, some things don't.
The school seemed so small compared with the university. Music was too loud as per usual.
Saw some familiar faces, and some unfamiliar ones. Spoke to people I knew, and people I hardly knew. When people are sufficiently drunk, everyone knows everyone.

Some fellow said "I am observing two problems on the dance floor. One is that guys can't dance. The other is that the girls don't care." I don't know, that kind of dry humour makes me smile a little.

And then there are the little things. Like a night without clouds. Like rare sunlight in Autumn.
And it gets cold, and people find their gloves. And it occurs like that in a dream, in fragments, when the leaves fall off the trees. I saw it at a hospital, apples falling down, going to waste on the ground. It seemed a fitting image on a cold day when I thought of all the people whose time is robbed away by illness.

Well, it's quiet. The computer is humming. I listen to a bit of music. I contemplate sleep. And life continues.

Phonetics

What's that sound? Did those 0.234 seconds matter? What kind of vowel was that? Did I mark it right? Why did I just listen to the same bit of sound 20 times in a row? Get that voice out of my head!

Okay, I'm exaggerating. But phonetics drives you a little crazy. In a cool way though - when the little things fall into place, you get that wonderful feeling that everything makes sense.
I can see why someone would devote their life to it, though I'm not sure I will.

I'm currently effectively making an effort not to make an effort. The written assignment is dull, and I've better things to do. Like, surfing on the internet and watching random youtube movies. That's educational, ladies and gents.

And while the majority of the world's population will be working their backs off per usual this Tuesday, I'll be enjoying my usual day off. Finishing that bloody written assignment probably... Oh, and acupuncture! That'll be nice... hopefully it can help dealing with all the tension in my muscles. I had a nice workout a couple of hours ago which made me feel all energized and happy. Note to self: MAKE IT A BLOODY HABIT, YOU LAZY GIT!

Eastern Promises

So.. That weekend wasn't very productive in any way. What a surprise :-P

Just hung out with a friend Friday.. Didn't do much Saturday except work on some ideas, although I made little progress. And today I saw the new movie called Eastern Promises. Darn it was violent, but all considered, it had to be. Won't say too much about it for fear of spoiling it for other people, but damn.. The acting was top-notch and everything in the movie seemed believable. It wasn't a feel good movie, but it did not crush the viewer with a barrage of depression either.
It showed all the grey zones. I hope we'll see more of that stuff for the director. And Viggo Mortensen was just brilliant beyond words :-P

Serpent

A movement, though
Languid at first
A serpent that stretches
To quench its thirst

Fangs sharpened, and
Its bite is massive
Slowly moving and
Yet passive

A patience, of
Glowing scales
Reflecting the light
Of old tales

A serpent, moves
Seeking its food
Left no other choice
Consumes its brood

It is wonderful to observe the differences in all things. A dog, though barely more than a child, seeming an infantile giant without a sense of proportion. It moves like a huge baby although with an added measure of intimidating physical strength. It does not mind being what it is. Without shame. Though on a leash, it seems more free than I'll ever be.

All things that grow

Internal memo: Pull that lever, will you? Yes, the break, that's it... thank you. Now get your ass down in front of that keyboard and write, watch your fingers dance that dance you know... yeah, that's it, they're keeping up with the beat for once. Just keep it coming... keep those legs in motion, and see it all spin again..

____________________________________________________________________
I scream in a dream
To ever seem
One with the stream
Of my rage

And hate for my fate
Was hushed too late
The inner gate
Of my cage

____________________________________________________________________

Almost through watching the third season of Battlestar Galactica. Although I really have to switch my brain off sometimes when I'm watching it due to some of the inconsistencies, the series has really grown on me. Its spiritual albeit obscure take on an alternate reality is sort of refreshing, and the creators of the series really know how to create a lot of material without too much of a penalty to the pace. There is a lot of predictability, but of course you need that lest you leave your audience without any idea of what's going on... That said, there is a fair amount of unpredictability as well although sometimes you find yourself thinking that the writer is a mite trigger happy when it comes to the creation of new plot twists. In the third season there's a lot of "exploring the characters' psychology and their past". There is no end to the obscure and, it feels, at times irrelevant revelations. Hallucinations and imaginary friends in Galactica are so common that I found myself wanting it all to end so they could get their arses back on track. To their credit I'd say they did; whenever everything was getting just a little too farfetched they managed to stop the train just before it went off the track.

No TV series is better than its actors. Sure, the writing, special effects, direction and all the other details are important as well, but a great spectacle without any real acting is just worthless. In this particular area Galactica does not disappoint. Most characters, even those who appear only briefly, seem to have a soul and a purpose of their own. Now, if you don't know about the series already, it's like this: Humanity's greatest enemy is a race of machines called the Cylons, which are - SURPRISE! - originally created by the humans. Okay, not really a surprise. But what makes Galactica a great series is the way it manages to take what seems to be an absolute cliché and turn it into something cool. Not some I, Robot thing.
The Cylons have developed a certain type of their kind very similar to a human being. In fact, they look completely human and are even biological organisms based on genetic material.
There are 12 different humanoid models, and all have different personalities. I wouldn't start spoiling it all for anyone who hasn't seen the series, but suffice to say that the actors who play these humanoid Cylons are very well cast.

Most of the characters aren't just stereotypes that remain the same all the time. They change, molded by the events of the world they live in. They all have flaws, they all make mistakes, they all have regrets. The series shows that no human being is perfect, and how that is exactly what makes a person human. A cliché, of course, but personally I can't get tired of watching examples of human psychology.

Old posts.

It seems the virtual bulldozer did not quite prevail... My old blog still exists, only it's 'somewhatorganized' with, z replacing s. I looked at a couple of old posts, and their surreality dawned on me... I wrote them before New Year, before this damned illness took a hold of me.
I wrote them with hope in mind, and I am at a loss when I try to find words to match them now...

Undiagnosed illness is like a cage in total darkness. You can feel the bars, but you can't see them. They restrain you, but it is almost impossible to see what is outside of the cage; not knowing what might be the cure for your condition or when that cure might be applied makes you focus on the problem, and you keep touching the bars to find some kind of weakness. Even though you know the bars do not change, and probing them will not do you much good. You have to look beyond the bars, and force yourself to let your eyes break through the darkness. But the longer you have to endure the same persistent symptoms, the deeper the darkness seems in your eyes. When you already have difficulty seeing purpose in life, each day of that repetitive, unchanging pressure takes you one step closer to despair.

I look at what I've written before because it is full of hope, and I hope to draw some strength from it.

My old blog stopped being updated in early January - when the illness came...

These are the old posts that struck me as most interesting.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Discordia.

"23rd of December. Closing in on Christmas. Surreal...

I have memories, lots of memories of different versions of the 23rd. I flip through the pages of my inner photo album, viewing each sequence vividly, recalling past Decembers, past years, past thoughts... I remember the childish joy when I was younger, the pure glee that filled me when I thought of all the presents I'd be getting and all the time I'd be spending together with those closest to me. The 23rd got it right back then, it did it for me, it catalyzed the right mood.
It's not impossible to think that I felt like that back then... But as time passes, the memories start to seem surreal, like something from an alien dimension. Distant. Obscure.

But today has seemed more surreal than any other 23rd before it. I feel run over by the train of time. The atmosphere was almost acidic, straining everyone's patience. I can't remember when I've last seen my family so tense. Seems like everyone was sitting with each their mindset, no two wavelengths the same. Misunderstandings.
My problem is that I feel empty... I know I'm not going to have my current job much longer, and I've been so bloody stuck in the routine that I'm without direction when pulled out of it. I'm a mess, but hopefully I can straigthen it out... Tidy it up.

It's a discordian tune, playing in my head... A mess of incoherent dreams from last night haunting me, and my mind playing twisted games with twisted words in twisted ways. I just hope I can sleep more peacefully tonight, washing away the acid layer, blowing away the foul air. I want to meet my next dawn smiling."

Thursday, December 28, 2006

The Silence of the Aftermath.

"It's amazing how much can change in the course of a mere few days... Quiet streams of moments, at times passing at a slow pace, at times blasting by so quickly you can't see what they contain. A waterfall of cascading memories as you wake up from silent dreams, or fictions turned into reality as many turned into one collaborate to channel their thoughts to create the impossible. Dreamy sentiments of a lone mind in a surreal mess of visions, smiles surrounding it, and darkness behind it. Breaking the light, the same two elements emerge, and the darkness which was in hiding. Both clear, but one can't be seen, yet is felt by the sensitive touch of memory. It is simultaneously burning and chilling, static and yet ever-changing, flowing in a stream like water, and yet thick and inpenetratable as diamond. You grasp and your fingers pass through, or sometimes they stick to the frozen matter and can't get free. You laugh and you scream at the same time, wondering which of the utterances of emotion is the true one. In the end there is the silence, the overwhelming silence, more powerful that any sound, as towering and powerful as a tsunami, making the last remnants of all the voices echo all the more clearly throughout the mind.

I still need to get my bearings, I still need to find the course I wish to take, I still need to find my road to silence, my road to the aftermath of something that is yet to happen. When dawn breaks in the New Year, and I see peace in its wake..."

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

" It's past 2 a.m. and I am making and eating toast. Making and eating toast is what I am doing."

Passion

Even in times when it is easier to face the darkness and discard all positive thought, there are those moments when you see passion in everything. That passion might seem different to you depending on who you are, and it might occur to you in different situations. To me it seems to happen when I'm riding my bicycle... It's almost a sense of euphoria sometimes, and I feel like I'm going insane - but in a good way. I see passion in the rain that keeps hitting my face, I see passion in the moon, in the horizon, in the windows of every house I pass by. I see passion in the future, and passion in myself. Sometimes, when I stop, I wonder where the passion came from, and why I felt it... I wonder what was the point. But other times - and those are the times I cherish - the obvious thought is "why not?". Why not feel passionate about life, why not feel that there is a meaning, even when things might seem meaningless? - Is it just romantic babble? To some, maybe, but that is because the passion is different to them. Perhaps fuelled by some irrational urge, or by logic. By music, by movies, by simple candlelight. Anyone might feel at times that passion has abandoned them, and few people are lucky enough to escape doubt. When I do feel a sense of passion, I feel thankful for it, but the "miracle" ceases the moment I think too much about it. The moment I start questioning my passion my contemplations make it wither. But it is when I feel most helpless and depressed that I truly need to dig as deep as possible and use all means to glimpse, if just for a moment, something to be passionate about, and then I hold on to it as fiercely as I can. Everyone has a passion, but sometimes when we are depressed, others are better at seeing it than we are. And though each downfall from happiness seems a hard blow, each discovery of a new passion, or the rediscovery of an old one, feels like a new beginning.

Welcome to the Jungle!

What was once my room has turned into a grotesque Ikean (now officially a word) battlefield.
Having begun my studies I've already been afflicted with a Reorganisation Syndrome... The sudden need to put everything in my room into a new order, rearranging and recategorising. Why am I writing this on my blog? Because it is boring and I'm following the human instinct which dictates that boredom must be shared. Although like many other boring activities, it is necessary. Because my room has deteriorated into a mess lately. Or, it started out as a mess, but the mess has been spreading. Hopefully when I'm done, I'll have a clean room as well as a clean conscience!

Linguistics

"Have you already eaten or not?" asks someone, and the other answers "I have eaten". That is how you say hello in the Chinese dialect Teochew. "I have eaten" is simply the traditional answer and has nothing to do with whether or not you have actually eaten.
Wohooo? So far linguistics seems quite the right choice! Interesting results ensue when you are equipped with a basic understanding of the grammatical structure of a certain language combined with a very small vocabulary... You start experimenting, forming new sentences, some of them utterly nonsensial. And you feel you are loving it!

So far I've only had Language Analysis (direct translation of the Danish name for the course...) and Phonetics. Both interesting in each their way, showing how utterly fucked language can be given certain grammatical rules or the molesting of basic pronunciation. Both teachers approaches their respective subjects with contagious enthusiasm, and it completely eliminated all my fears. This was of course only the beginning; I may yet have to take my words back at some point. My last two courses seem obscure because I know very few details about them, but hopefully their quality will match what I've seen so far. If not, well, bad luck :P

And I had an MR-scan... Not something I hope I will ever have again. It can stir even the tiniest fraction of claustrophobia that might be hidden in the dark corners of your mind.... although the worst part to me was not the sense of being trapped inside a tube; it was the sound of the machine that seemed to push my body from all directions, making me feel as though my brain was being squeezed out. Mmmmmmmmmm...!

It sounds worse than it is - the worst part only lasted for 3 minutes. I had headphones on that allowed me to hear some tranquil music - that was what kept me sane for the 20 or so minutes it lasted. I just hope I'll know the results before too long :)

Tomorrow I'll have a course that has to do with the media... or something. Media analysis. I'll have to wait and see what that's all about.

Anyway, that's all for today/tonight.
/T out.

Total War

So I've spent the last few days playing Medieval 2: Total War: Kingdoms and I've just started reading a book. To be more specific, a book called Deadhouse Gates by Stephen Erikson.
As far as the book is concerned, I can't say much about its quality yet, but judging by the first book in the series (The Malazan Book of the Fallen), Gardens of the Moon, I think it'll be a grand ride.

In M2: TW: Kingdoms I've had the pleasure of launching a Norwegian invasion in the northern part of the British Isles, fighting against all odds challenging a seemingly mad Scottish army that did not concern itself with England because the latter had enough trouble dealing with Wales and Ireland. Instead of fighting as a rebel against the English, William Wallace decided to take arms against the Norwegian army instead. However, with all Scottish cities and castles taken in the end, the Scots were left without a home and thus lost many supporters.
Now my double headache consists of the Baron's Alliance (rebel English barons who didn't fancy the king all that much) and the Welsh which have formed a firm alliance against me and newfound ally England... which by now consists of a single city.
Fortunately the Welsh armies seem to consist purely of arches, so an all-out charge routs them pretty quickly. Actually I've been astounded by the lack of morale in enemy armies at times; I've won improbably victories simply due to entire enemy armies that, though they were extremely superior, suddenly turned and ran. Either my warriors are more intimidating than I thought or I'm simply lucky. Or it could be broken AI. Which leads me to another thing... AI is still far from perfect. They don't use their cavalry properly, and that makes it frighteningly easy to outflank them. Actual tactics besides an all-out charge are usually overrated when the crude and straightforward approach can be used with hardly any casualties on your side.
Still, the sheer sight of heavy cavalry ramming into lines of infantry is enjoyable enough whether or not the AI is found wanting.

Oh, and by tomorrow afternoon I'll officially be studentus magisterii... Which sounds more fancy than it is :-P Basically just means I'll officially be a student at the university. The last few days have seemed incredibly slow and boring simply because my curiosity was so stirred during the introduction period that I immediately found myself wanting to learn more. I almost can't wait to actually get started. Oh, and spend a fortune on books, oh the precious books. Thankfully I still have a fortune (kinda) so it'll be alright.

Anyway, I've a Baron's Alliance to destroy or a book to read. Choices, choices.

War out!

Bioshock

I rise to my feet, ADAM coursing through my body, the invigorating force that gives me power, makes me invincible. My drained foe lies at my feet, his body deprived of all life, an energy now taken from him by me. Or was he a man? Was this machine ever human? It does not matter; it served only the sole purpose of being destroyed to fuel a higher purpose. He chose to be a slave to be commanded, and the little girl who was turned into an abomination, this bizarre golem's ward, stares at me in horror. It is a reflex that guides me as I grab her and brutally extract that strange creature that dwells in her, and I hold it in my hand as I discard the child's body.
Strange shapes, wearing bizarre masks and crude weaponry all charge at me from everywhere. I see a few of them step on the mines I carefully placed, or stumbling across electric tripwires. One is rammed into the wall by a telekinetically thrown desk, and another, seeking to put out the flames all over his body by seeking water, is lit up by an electric current. One of them tries to run, but not fast enough to avoid the crossbow I have just drawn. There are only corpses around me now, but I know there will be more of these madmen who will come to challenge me, but they will have to catch me on the move... And I will always be prepared.
As I listen to the babbling of the ill-fated citizens of this misfit of a city, I despair over their foolishness and shortsightedness. Why did they record these tapes, leaving others to moan over their stupidity? They spoiled this world, they couldn't handle its opportunities. They were taken down by it. I don't trust Atlas any further than I can throw him, but I feel compelled to follow this lead. There is no other choice for me but to see where it takes me. And on the way I have dealt with men on the edge of insanity and worse, and I find no solace in my own rationality.
It is the impact of this perverted mutation, this bioshock that has overcome their bodies, that has taken them there and will take them further still if not to their deaths.
But second-guessing will not help me here. A moment's compassion means my end. I move on, ruthlessly, heading for my target. Then we'll see what he really looks like, and I will be the judge of his character.

____________________________________________________________________

I just finished Bioshock, and as with most other games of the sort, I'm left with an empty feeling after those hours of constant tension. The grotesquely picturesque underwater city of Rapture, surrounded by the brute force of the Atlantic Ocean, taking pressure from all directions, a beautiful tragedy of neon lights, glass and hard steel. This may be an odd parallel, but the game I was truly reminded of in the first place was Arcanum. Even though Arcanum takes place in what seems more like a 19th century world of industrialism, and though it hasn't much to do with underwater cities, it was the same sense of mystery and intrigue that struck me in the beginning of Bioshock as was the case when I first played Arcanum 5 or 6 years ago. Both games leave you as the sole survivor of a crashlanding, and in both cases you are greeted by a guide in the beginning; Virgil in Arcanum and Atlas in Bioshock. True, you do not actually meet Atlas face to face from the start, but he helps you get your bearings much the same way Virgil does.
However, Bioshock does not leave you with a specific goal. The main character is wrapped in an enigma; you briefly see a picture of his family in the beginning, but as far as the character's moral inclinations are concerned, you are left with a tabula rasa to use as you see fit. There is instantly a feeling of predetermination; as though you are guided down a specific path that you did not choose on your own. Strange coincidences, unanswered questions that remain even when you stand at the very ending.

The world is quite stunningly beautiful. Again, I feel a kinship between Arcanum's sombre violins and the 40s and 50s music that sets a tone of surreality and disillusionment in Bioshock.
Both games seem filled with conspiracy and strange characters of an almost mythical quality.
Andrew Ryan, the creator of the underwater city of Rapture, which is where Bioshock takes place, seems to fancy himself a God of will, and it is reflected in the various audio tapes spread throughout the game, and in the way Ryan speaks to the main character over the radio. A tyrant king, a Xerxes commanding a crumbling empire and a horde of slaves without will; a megalomaniac who feels that all faults were caused not by his misjudgment of human nature, but by the weak-minded people who chose to inhabit his city. The combined genious and horror of Rapture leaves the player with a mixture of awe and terror. The feat of will it took for Andrew Ryan to plan the building of the huge city, and the chaos it took to slowly take it apart.

The only rule is survival of the fittest as you scrounge ammunition and plasmids (strange powers granted through mutation) that aid you in your quest for knowledge and survival. Sometimes you just go in guns blazing, but sometimes it pays off to use every strategic advantage, every potentially reprogrammable gun tower, every trap to your advantage. Using rocket launcher towers to ambush your enemy... Set them on fire to lure them into water for electrocution. Set up electric tripwires and proximity mines. Set up a target dummy to confuse so as to allow you to move behind them. Your enemies are rather mindless, but sometimes they will surprise you with the employment of rather cunning tactics and ambushing techniques. And make sure to either reprogram the local healing machines or kill your wounded enemies before they get away, for if they reach a healing machine they will use it to recover (or get a nasty surprise if you managed to hack the healing machine). So you'll have to use the correct tactics if you don't want to get damaged all the time and waste all your first aid kits. Using the right plasmids and the right ammo is critical. And exactly the fact that various weapons have different kinds of ammo makes sure that no weapon gets quite outdated. The basic revolver, given some anti-personnel ammo and/or upgrades turns out to be devastating against the hordes of splicers (people who have spliced (mutated) themselves beyond recognition) that will come after you. Of course, eventually you'll also be able to turn splicers on each other, or turn entire security systems on your enemies. The tactical versatility that you are capable of makes the combat so much more interesting. The audio tapes and the environment itself will keep you intrigued and will urge you further into the depths of the damned dystopia.

If you are a gamer with a good PC or an Xbox 360, it would be a crime not to treat yourself to this game.

Now, do I play it again or do I play something else? Time will tell... Time will tell...

On the edge.

Feeling on the edge of insanity, almost wishing to fall over it. I think a lot of people have felt that way at some point. I feel that way sometimes, especially when I'm lacking enthusiasm or need an excuse to remain passive. You find yourself wishing you really were bat-fucking-nuts because then you'd have an excuse. Well maybe everyone has their own moments of insanity, and maybe it is just a part of life. It still does not get any more comforting each time.

An overflow of impressions that I need to absorb is what triggers it in me. Reminding me of all psychological loose ends, things I should've said in the past but didn't, things I keep trapped inside. The overflow causes an extra measure of cabin pressure, and things almost start slipping out, but I don't let them. Each time though, they get closer. At some point everything must get out. And I want it to.

It is easy to antagonize life. I know, because it is what I've spent most of my life doing. I'm still doing it, but I hope to break that habit, although I feel I'm constantly given new reasons to continue the same way, a sort of paranoia. After all, when life is not fair to you, you aren't always fair to life either.
Instead of dealing with the sources of your anger or depression, you punish your life. You give up hope, you don't embrace what you have. But I have to be fair to myself, not just in the negative way. I can't only punish myself, especially not for things I am not the cause of. The feeling that some unknown entity has been placing tripwire everywhere I go doesn't help me.
I have epiphanies in the evening that I reject in the morning. Forgetting myself, and doing that forgetting everyone else.

I do not need to stop thinking, but I need to stop overthinking.

And now I'll literally dive (no pun intended) into Bioshock. I've been playing it a bit and I'm thoroughly immersed in it so far, but I can't say anything final until I've pushed a bit further.
If blasting the heck out of an oversized brute clad in strange underwater equipment and armed with a enormous drill is not entertaining, I don't know what is.

Dreamfall

Just completed the game. Again reminding me why Ragnar Tørnquist had better come up with a sequel soon!

Signing off for the night,
some sort of speechless... yet again.

Events

I have an illness. It is possibly neural, but the various doctors, dentists and other people who have had a look at me for the past 7 months haven't quite pinned it down yet. It started in the beginning of this year shortly after I stopped working as a mail man. I felt dizzy. Tension and brain spread from a certain point in my upper jaw, and I was scared as hell. What might it be? Was it dangerous? I was constantly reassured by my parents, but it did not always help. I first saw my dentist, who had a hunch and redirected me to another type of doctor. I was told that I'd have a CT-scan. Instead I arrived at the hospital only to meet a young and incompetent doctor who reserved time for a scan, which I had to wait another series of weeks to get. Various assumptions and conclusions followed after the scan, and I was given some medicine. Which turned out not to work.
I was told that I'd be redirected to the neurologists, but nothing happened, and a few weeks later I contacted them. It turned out I had been forgotten. Meanwhile other symptoms started to show themselves... Irritation in my left hand, tension in most parts of my body. The pain in my jaw grew slightly worse. Given a reminder, they said they'd redirect me immediately. But the neurological department simply directed me back where I came from.
Not for the first time during my time of illness, I screamed and cried. It had already been a little while since I had been supposed to go to Africa to visit a friend and stay with him for 2 months. But it was not possible because of the illness. And another delay was not what I needed.
I contacted my personal doctor who heard me out and contacted the neurologists directly.
I went there. I had a receipt for some medication and assurance that I'd get a more elaborate scan, an MR-scan. The medication did not work, but neural illnesses have a way of being robust, so it may be that some other form of medication is in order. The MR-scan won't happen before the 6th of September. I was hoping I wouldn't have to begin my studies in this state. I was hoping that I could've seen some more of the world before my educational life would move on. But that was not going to happen. Instead I spent 7 months home. Playing games and meeting people over the internet, which was enjoyable, but it was not what I had wished for. And constant doubt and fear instilled by being kept in the dark without a clear diagnosis, even now.

There are people in this world a lot worse off than I am, but for someone who has never experienced anything like it, it is not easy to understand the true implications of 7 months' pain, irritation, fear and disappointment. Anyone who has such an illness, if they did not know of loneliness before, they do now. You may gain support and kind words for your loved ones, but in some situations they cannot understand you because this kind of pain can't be shared.

But now I know that I will remain in doubt while I study, and I will have to accept that.
A few days ago I met some of the people I am going to study with, and I saw the environment in which my studies will take place. I gained some information and got a general feel of the place.
Most of my fellow students are girls and/but (depends on your view) the ones I spoke to seemed open-minded, and I have a good feeling about it all. Of course, you can't really get to know anyone on such a thin basis, so I'll have to see how things work out during the coming period of social activities, and then when the real studies begin in September. Everyone is curious about the things we are going to learn, and though I've dabbled in it before, I don't know all that much about linguistics.
My resolve is not usually the strongest, but knowing that I can keep in touch with old friends and hopefully new ones, I feel my resolve strengthen through hope.

Yesterday I went to see some of my former classmates, and though we weren't many who showed up, it was one of the best days I've had in a while. One year is quite a while, but it makes me relieved that people haven't changed all too much. They were all familiar and even though I had not seen them in a long time, it was easy to start talking without too much restraint, and it made it easier to ignore the constant pain. That little reunion was another source of hope to me.
And while we were walking over to see a couple of my former classmates' appartment, I bumped someone from my first school whom I hadn't seen for 6 years. It was a very strange experience because such short moments of conversation can't nearly cover 6 years of change, and both people meet on a superficial basis, knowing they are both different now and have only the knowledge of each other's names and faces in common now, apart from memories long gone.
You just see hints of the toll that those 6 years have taken, and you can't be certain whether it was for good or bad. Or a bit of both as is often the case.

Then on my way home I met someone I used to play pen and paper roleplaying games with. Or rather he shouted at me, beer in hand, and we had a brief and fairly meaningless conversation as two individuals with intoxication in common. And then I came home, and the pain in my jaw was stinging as it usually is when I'm exhausted. Still, I was happy, and I slept extremely well that night.

Then today for the heck of it I started playing one of my "old" games. Or it wasn't really that old, but it had been a while since I played it. Dreamfall - The Longest Journey in all its visual grace on my fairly new 22 inch widescreen monitor (long live LG!). It took me back to the first time I completed it, playing almost non-stop since I ripped it out of the box and slammed it into my DVD-drive. Books may be able to trigger images and emotions, but once in a while it's all worth it to completely immerse myself in a computer game, eating the narrative in its pure, digital form. And I think now is the time to continue my adventure into Arcadia and Stark in that very special game that has earned a place among my favourites.

"You're about to take the first step on the longest journey of your life"

Soon it begins.

I would have done myself a greater service maintaining this blog, to somehow keep my thoughts together instead of as they are now, hanging in what seems a mass of close threads. But I will, damn me, keep using it in the time to come as a way of keeping myself on a leash.

I hope to keep this updated in the future especially when I start my studies very soon.
It's getting late though, and I rather fancy reading a bit than writing all my thoughts right now.
So, goodnight.

The virtual bulldozer prevails...

Right... so it's been ages since I actually used this thing... I'll have to get my bearings. Seems all my old stuff was bulldozed - ah well, they probably issued a warning that I just happened to ignore.
Whatever. I'll start from scratch! Posting now and then.. unless I'm too lazy.
Nothing much is happening in my corner of the world, but I'll update here when I can, telling what little is actually taking place.

So there.