Untamed

Recently I have come to notice that several people whom surround me have absolutely no control or any idea when something is being said or done “too much”. For example, showing said people a neat little trick will cause them to continue performing the trick until it is no longer entertaining (and even long after it has lost its entertainment value).

Even if what they’re doing is heading everyone into a bit of restriction or consequence, they continue to bastardise whatever it is that they’re doing, even after being warned to stop doing so. Honestly, I was not aware that it took that many braincells to realise when ‘enough is enough’.

Every time I see these people abusing everyone’s priviledges for their own entertainment, it makes me want to strangle them. Oh, granted, I’ve played games when I shouldn’t have but once I’ve been warned, I generally put an end to my little games and pay attention as I should be. These guys, however, don’t even have the compacity in their heads to attempt to do it.

Not to mention that they’re all completely and utter Counter-Strike freaks; what is so good about that game anyway? It’s so unrealistic that it isn’t even funny and you basically spend an hour running around the same map doing the exact same thing you did in the past 345 rounds. There’s nothing to talk about with that game, yet these guys manage to talk about it every second of the day. If they aren’t playing it, they’re talking about it.

Obsession over things quite annoys me, especially when the level of that obsession is rather extreme, much like this Counter-Strike thing is. If I wanted to listen to how their ‘jumped’ on a map, I’d say to them, “so, tell me how you pressed the alt key and made your character jump! It sounds so exciting”. Ah well, though – being the critical hardass that I am, I’m going to say that it is of no surprise that none of these guys have any girlfriends.

No one wants to date someone who would probably say “counter-terrorists win” at the end of a sexual encounter. They may as well be dating their computer – in fact, they probably are. Ugh, some people are so pathetic and only the human mind could be so infatuated with something as insipid as a repetitive, uneventful game such as Counter-Strike.

Recently I have come to notice that several people whom surround me have absolutely no control or any idea when something is being said or done “too much”. For example, showing said people a neat little trick will cause them to continue performing the trick until it is no longer entertaining (and even long after it has lost its entertainment value).

Even if what they’re doing is heading everyone into a bit of restriction or consequence, they continue to bastardise whatever it is that they’re doing, even after being warned to stop doing so. Honestly, I was not aware that it took that many braincells to realise when ‘enough is enough’.

Every time I see these people abusing everyone’s priviledges for their own entertainment, it makes me want to strangle them. Oh, granted, I’ve played games when I shouldn’t have but once I’ve been warned, I generally put an end to my little games and pay attention as I should be. These guys, however, don’t even have the compacity in their heads to attempt to do it.

Not to mention that they’re all completely and utter Counter-Strike freaks; what is so good about that game anyway? It’s so unrealistic that it isn’t even funny and you basically spend an hour running around the same map doing the exact same thing you did in the past 345 rounds. There’s nothing to talk about with that game, yet these guys manage to talk about it every second of the day. If they aren’t playing it, they’re talking about it.

Obsession over things quite annoys me, especially when the level of that obsession is rather extreme, much like this Counter-Strike thing is. If I wanted to listen to how their ‘jumped’ on a map, I’d say to them, “so, tell me how you pressed the alt key and made your character jump! It sounds so exciting”. Ah well, though – being the critical hardass that I am, I’m going to say that it is of no surprise that none of these guys have any girlfriends.

No one wants to date someone who would probably say “counter-terrorists win” at the end of a sexual encounter. They may as well be dating their computer – in fact, they probably are. Ugh, some people are so pathetic and only the human mind could be so infatuated with something as insipid as a repetitive, uneventful game such as Counter-Strike.

Another day, another hour of sleep lost to the wonderful discussion why network cables are blue. Ah, I absolutely cannot wait for summer to finally kick in; this cold weather is really beginning to annoy me. I’m tired of waking up early and wanting to lay in bed for another hour because I know that outside of my blankets is three times colder. I’m tired of standing at the bus stop crossing my arms over my ribs and holding my hands close to my body in attempt to keep warm and stop shivering. Most of all, summer usually hosts the ferrocious storms and relentless rain that I so adore admiring and I’ve missed it in its absence lately.

Staying in bed for an hour more isn’t exactly bad though; in fact, it may just be the only thing about winter that makes it a tolerable season. Aside from my constant complains about how the weather is never satisfying me, I must report that I was a complete tit today and left my CD-RW in a computer at my campus today. I’m hoping that it will still be in the CD tray when I reach the computer tomorrow afternoon, otherwise it’s a stack of MP3s, software and other goodies that I have lost and stupid me, that was my backup! Well, here’s hoping that someone doesn’t use that computer and, if they do, they don’t use the CD-ROM.

On a more important note, I’ve come to fall insanely in love with the Rammstein song “Klavier”. Its guitaring always causing my heart to feel different while it plays, as if it were fluttering – perhaps, if it were in love. I can’t explain it at all, but the guitars tune, the sound of it, the entire song as a whole is just so incredibly amazing and I have never been so affected by a song in this way before in my entire life. (And they say chocolate inspires the same chemical reaction as being in love? Chocolate has nothing on this song.) I’m hoping to pick up more Rammstein soon, I even attempted to get it today but had absolutely no money on me to do so. I will get them though and when I do, my computer and I shall rock out together.

Speaking of rocking out with people, I’ve found myself a music buddy! Yes, a guy at my campus who is in my course happens to have a rather tasteful collection of music that strike a chord with my interest (and he catches my bus!). I spent this morning with him sitting at the bus stop then again on the bus listening to his music at a stupidly insane level. I’m actually quite surprised that the police officer behind us didn’t complain about the noise being generated from the tiny, Sony headphones. The funniest part about the entire situation is, I still don’t know his name. It isn’t hard to remember my name though, being the only female in the entire diploma. Mind you, the interest in the guy is strictly on a ‘friends’ and ‘music-buddy’ level.

Ah but I finally plan to get a decent nights sleep tonight if I can at all. The person I really want to talk to not being online leaves me with very little purpose of being here once this post is written. While I think of it, I haven’t played any games in quite a while so perhaps I should make an effort of doing so. Ah, but where to begin?

Eine andere Sprache ist immer also schön, haben die Weise Wörter gerade ihre eigenen einzigartigen Töne und wie es also viele unterschiedliche Sprachen gibt, zum innen zu sprechen und zu schreiben. Amperestunde ja ist es wirklich wundervoll, etwas Zeitschreiben in einer Sprache aufzuwenden, die nicht englisch ist. Obgleich, ich beachte, daß diese Eintragung eine kleine Schwierigkeit für meine Mitleser aufwerfen kann, die nicht die deutsche Sprache verstehen.

In jedem möglichem Fall hoffe ich, daß diese Leute, das dieses lesen, weg nicht durch den Mangel an Englisch in diese bestimmte Eintragung gesetzt werden. Ich hoffte, sie auf französisch getan worden sein könnte, aber ich weiß, daß sehr wenig von ihm und sogar von writing/speaking Deutschem etwas ist, den ich nicht an zu gut bin. Ein Tag zwar, setze mich ich in die Zeit, eine Sprache zu erlernen, vorzugsweise französisch. Für jetzt zwar, müssen schlechtes Schreiben und Übersetzer mein Führer sein.

The Road To Nothing is a saga.

Waking up, Andy’s hand had shot straight to his head which was searing with pain; he could feel it mostly around the back of his skull. His eyes half opened, he searched around himself to see where he was, and noticed a barstool toppled over, along with a few glasses near him smashed. It was obvious to him that he’d been in a bar, obviously drinking away his problems and had hit his head against a table and then the floor. His hand felt beside him, in attempt to get a solid grasp on his own stability, to bring himself back to his feet. His eyes shifted to a figure walking toward him holding a wet towel, he groaned and dropped to the floor again, not bothering to help himself up from the floor.

The figure kneeled down beside Andy, holding the towel out in front of him. The figures face was familiar, he knew that he’d see it before and it struck him that it was his bartender. Another groan escaped from his mouth as the bartender decided to administer the towel to Andy’s head himself, seeing as Andy appeared unable to do it properly himself. He felt bad to be placing such a task on his bartender; it shouldn’t have been his job to nurse Andy’s wounds merely because he came in for one too many drinks. He began to sit up, eventually pulling himself into a stance, although a somewhat unsteady one. A ten dollar note was pulled from his pocket and placed on the table for the barman, a sign of gratitude, Andy thought to himself.

Stumbling out of the bar with his hand pressed to his head, he quickly shielded his eyes from the blinding sunlight that beamed down onto him, penetrating his flesh. Every ray that touched him made him feel more sober by the second, and being able to think was something Andy didn’t want to be able to do at the moment. Moving his tongue in his mouth, he whistled for cab that was heading in his direction, throwing his arm out half energetically in attempt to ensure the driver noticed his call. The cab slowly pulled to the curve, stopping in front of Andy, the driver had a curious look upon his face and a somewhat worried expression flashed through at the same time. The driver wasn’t even sure if he should have stopped for Andy, he couldn’t afford having another ‘runner’ who didn’t pay and Andy’s appearance and state wasn’t a reassuring one.

Andy swung the back door of the car open and slumped into the seat, he wasn’t sure where he was going but at the moment he didn’t particularly care. His arm idly searched his coat pockets and took hold of a fair amount of money that he put there when he was too lazy to place it in his wallet. He tossed it at the driver softly and lay on the back seat closing his eyes, his head pounding, and the sun making the sensation worse. “412 Lancestor Road” he said to the driver; it was the address to his house and he’d figure he’d put in a few ‘family man’ hours in with his kids and his wife. Oh, sure, he was blind drunk but he figured by the time he reached home, he’d appear more in control. Andy knew that appearances can be deceiving. The driver nodded and began making the journey as Andy closed his eyes and began to slip back into unconsciousness.