actuality.log

I just loaded a fishing drink dispensing machine with the required number of quarters for a drink and later realized the only drink it’s capable of selling me is root beer, because all the things normal people consume are sold out.

Now I get to enjoy the fishing wondrous taste of toothpaste dissolved in water.

Ick.

Being at work at ungodly hours isn’t particularly happening. (6:44, the next morning, for the curious.)

(Notice how I use the word fish so much more every time I cycle through the episodes of South Park? I do too. God damn it.)

[Note: I’ve finally responded to all recent comments on the web log. Sorry for the wait people, I’ve just been insanely lazy. If you were waiting earlier for me to respond, please scroll down now. After reading this post of course.]

You’re a male. You’re alone. By “alone”, I mean nothing more (or less) than you not being around anyone at that point of time. Actually, it’s a little bit more than that. Even if there are people around, if you aren’t “attached” to anyone, you’re alone. I use the word “attached” loosely and you can take it any way you want to.

[Random image]

Like I was trying to say, you’re a male. You’re alone.

You then decide to go about some arbitrary activity. Let’s say (window?) shopping at a mall. You don’t think too hard, you just go ahead and do it.

Alone. As you really are.

While going about said random activity, be it lunch (alone) or whatever, if someone (let’s say interesting woman) is interested in coming up to you and starting a conversation, she “just can”.

And does.

There is no reason for her to be intimidated or concerned or any-mixed-anything-like weirdness, because it’s clear. You’re alone. There is no one to “deal with”, but you. No one’s claiming that’s easy, but it could be worse.

You’re a woman. You’re alone. You then decide to go about some arbitrary activity. Let’s say (window?) shopping at a mall. You don’t think too hard, you just go ahead and do it.

With someone else.

While going about said random activity, be it lunch (not alone, with your “friend(s)”) or whatever, if someone (let’s say intimidated-yet-fascinating geek) is interested in coming up to you and starting a conversation, he “can’t”.

I mean, he can, but it’s just so much harder. He has to deal not only with the one person he’d like to talk to, but also her “friends” she is always hanging around. What’ll they think? Will they find him funny too? Can he be smart enough to be funny enough to all of them so no one gives her a “negative” review?

(Or course, a similar set of doubt-filled questions also exist about attributes other than funny, intelligence, sensitivity, attractiveness, …)

He has to, in some sense, perform the fishing “spread his coloured feathers peacock style” dance, but angle it so that more than one person finds the light reflecting off of it colourful.

Try it. It’s insanely harder than you might assume.

What’s not hard, however, is to tune your brand of humour and coloured-feathery-goodness to one frequency, and keep it there.

So, like I started of asking, what’s up with that?

How hard is it to go about your tasks alone so it’d be easier for us? We do it for you don’t we?

Don’t you see it’s hard for us?

No, you probably don’t. You probably missed us because we weren’t brilliant enough to impress the friend you’re always hanging around.

You know those dance studios / gymnastics places / general-well-being activity type places where the people who do that sort of thing hang out? I was walking past something of the sort a few days ago, and saw an ad for this “Everyday Yoga” session for a couple of hours in the evening today. Being the curious sorts, plus wanting some of this much sought after well being, (plus wanting to start making the move to the new place worthwile) I decided to show up for one of the sessions at 6 or so this evening.

It was a most peaceful experience and extremely relaxing. But that’s not the real story. Oh no.

I was the only non 18-19 year old, non blonde, non sports-bra-n-tights wearing, non female there, apart from the instructor chap. I mean, at one point, he’s like, “ah, wahgnube, some male energy in the room”. I am not kidding, what’s the frickin’ deal with men and fear of yoga classes? I am seriously not kidding. This is the sort of group where they give you this cuddly lil furry keychain just for showing up, complete with all carefully and prettily placed ads for tons of other future events on them.

Not that I am complaining or anything.

If I were a writer, I would currently be going through something of a writer’s block. But since I’m not, and I don’t really need to have particularly insightful, interesting or humorous things to talk about before I actually say something, I’ll just chalk down this recent lull to laziness. Or being busy. Or anything else that floats your boat.

It’s strange. I can, apparently only really (as in comfortably, with little effort) “write” in certain very specific environments. A particular position on my bed for instance. And now, without the ability to pay for stable internet in this new apartment, I don’t have that cozy position as an option. I tried sitting at a café (actually a place I really love to hang) near by, but I keep getting distracted by people. From a Bible study group around me yesterday, to this partying group a short while a go—the theme of said party being pimps n’ hos. I gave up and returned home.

Anyway, since the Doom 3 demo’s been out, and my machine is no where near completion, I’ve been playing it on the laptop. With insanely low graphic detail and almost all effects turned off and yet at some single digit fps. Which doesn’t really make that big a difference apparently, since the freaking thing just renders a black screen at 5 frames a second.

My review so far – The shawdowing is awesome! Only there aren’t any light sources to cast freaking shadows.

(And I didn’t, I swear, pick some arbitrarily bad spot. This is the state WITH THE “FLASHLIGHT” for crying out loud. Yes, your health would be “only 31” too if you couldn’t see shit while constantly being gunned down.)

It “just happened”. Sometime last week, like magic, I just decided to step out of these past few months of unproductivity and do (quite decent) work. Sure it’s cutting in on my goof off time, but I am quite enjoying it. On average, sleep time has been slashed to 4 or so hours a day. These things work, however, in mysterious ways (well, not really) and the slacker portion of me (the large portion) decides to just use the now-less slack periods to the fullest. And,

– I’ve seen ALL episodes of Futurama, again.
– I’ve seen ALL released episodes of South Park, mostly again.
– I’ve seen five out of six seasons of Sex and the City, again.
– Listened to pretty much everything Led Zeppelin has ever created, multiple times.
– I’ve caught up on all my favourite comics, and one strip of one of them hit me as particularly funny, for real life reasons too deep to delve into.

Drawn by Aaron Farber as a guest comic for Scary go Round.

All in less than two weeks. Doesn’t sound too productive now, does it? You’d be surprised.