The Black Mark On Your Permanent Record

- OMG WTF DUDE

Ah, routine.

Just like any other day, i first heard the high pitched screeching of a nearby fire siren. Custom dictacted i haul the three gas grenades i bought the night before (courts were selling them at discount) and fling them out the window.

On an ordinary day.

The rays of morning light didnt tear through the windows like they used to, but instead warmly drifted in and delivered Cornettos, and it was raining way too heavily for a cloudless sky. Instead I decided to return to happily snoozing the hours away. But i didnt have that convenience, for just as i began dreaming about ninja matchsticks (which was about the same time the keyboards were about to launch a massive offensive on the empire state building), a battalion of Nazis- all wearing ties of varrying patterns- stormed in singing "Ride of the Valkyries", decimating my peaceful slumber. Annoyed, i stretched my legs and opened my eyes- and was greeted by the most peculiar sight.

Staring back at me was the severed head of a rabbit, still gruesome and bloody. This was most unusual, for the night before i remember tucking it UNDER my bed, instead of on it. Still puzzled, i swung my right arm in front of me, knocking the head to the floor with a soft thump.

I sat up, arms lazily rested on my legs, and surveyed the scene, leaving out unimportant questions like "any other comments? if so, what are they?" and "are there any other feature's you'd like to see added?". The first thing i noticed were the bags of pringles scattered all over the floor, prominent like notices on a stretch of road, but more scattered. They were torn open, ripped like a conned passer-by. The chips themselves were not only all half eaten, but playing hopscotch on the parquet. Which was odd because i dont remember ever opening those bags, or any bags to begin with. I concluded that i must have been hungry at some point. I brushed my bed to check for the bedsheet. Yup, still there.

I pushed myself out of bed and changed into the usual, brushed my teeth, washed my face, blew my nose, combed my hair, scraped my tongue, oiled my cyborg arm and summoned two demon guards. I didnt remember the candles i bought for the ritual to be quite so purple, nor did i remember carving on them the runic symbols that covered each candle top to bottom. I was just about to forget this strange phenomenon.

When an arrow flew into the room, followed by a loud crashing noise, the kind you get when sharp objects pierce windows. Funny. I didnt have windows at that part of the room. But i decided to formulate my theories on how the arrow got in some other time, and ducked for cover like a farmer who wanted to cover his duck. The arrow hit the wall-side trashcan and cut through it like a javelin through a hamster, spilling its contents all over the floor. I was shocked beyond words. For one, i distinctly remember emptying that trash can last night, and its contents did not make me content. A second later i began wondering why an arrow would ever act in such an obnoxious manner.

And then it hit me.

The runic symbols were there because i had woken up in the middle of the night to carve them on! But the mystery of the arrow was still baffling. Torturing it for answers, death threats, hypnotism, all of it bore no results. Demoralised, i decided to hide the arrow somewhere below the roof but above the floor. The arrow pointed and mocked. I was convinced it was time to get out of the place. I grabbed a pair of socks as i passed the microwave, slide down the stairs and headed towards the door.

The fire sirens started again. I tore the pin off the smoke grenades behind the family portraits and flung it out the nearest window, and the results were immediate. A troupe of clowns appeared doing somersaults.

But it wasnt summer. Nor did i have any salt.

This was too much. The tiny bizzareness began to take its effect on me (i have a short temper, you can tell). It was time to take things into my own hands, time to weed out the root of the plant of irregularity. I stormed out of the house, confident that whatever i had to do, it was out there somewhere. I was stopped halfway down the road by a friendly police officer, who sent me home to get some pants, after which i set off again, feeling all of the above, and also wearing pants.

Well, so far so good.

(to be continued...)

- The Minefield Theorum

I'm not good at writing serious shit, so imma try my hand at it now. Besides, it helps with the self convincing. Besides, i dont think it'd be "writing" so much as "confused and disorganised words and clutter that can be used to stain the minds of the young, or block windpipes."(It does bring a whole new meaning to having crap-shoved-down-your-throat).

It doesnt help that im sick enough to feel an elephant the size of ohio decide to tango in my head every 5 minutes. And the damn thing isnt even doing it right, it keeps adding steps. And since when did the tango involve a piledriver?

So dude, right, you wanna really do something, right? But, like, you're afraid of the outcome right? Because either way, things may (and probably will) end up screwing you over worse than a ten-tonne monster-truck with a strap-on, right? But you really wanna do it, right?

So do you do it?

The smart man laughs at this scenario and realises that since there is no gain in doing so other than to clear impulses, simply gives the reply: "Of course not! Stupid man! Go back to your whistling competition with the kettle!".

I dont consider myself the brightest spark in the fireworks. But im compelled to do it. Its not because ive made some surreal pact with the devil, its not because i LOVE getting myself in sticky situation and its not because i do not like green eggs and ham.

I would do it because there is nothing to gain, but something to lose. And since imma lose either way, i might as well satisfying my impulses kthxbye. "But Jeremy!" You ask, risking your position in heaven, "What can you possibly lose from just staying put! All shall be as it is! All shall be fine and dandy! Raindrops keep falling on my head!"

I'll elaborate. Imagine a minefield. You're stuck in it. You can either sit there, and rot, or get out. liberate yourself. Move.
There is another patch 30 metres away from you. Here's the snitch- there's alot that could be in those 30 metres. A claymore? A remote?
If fear grips you, flip to page number "1- 0- 5- 3- 12"
If not, flip to the next page. And move on. Determination.

Because nothing is holding you back except your own fear. Brace yourself.

Would you rather be confined, afraid, in that tiny space? No sssir.

You lose opportunity. It's more than a window now. Opportunity is like time- it comes, and it goes. And no amount of tampon sacrifices would bring it back. You couldve done something, and you couldnt. You shouldve done something, but you didnt. And now you'll never know the outcome.

Utter a ten-four and drive on blind.

Opportunity waits for no one. It doesnt care if you lose the only chance you've ever had. It wont give you compensation lives, and it wont let you restart the game with the hit of an "esc".
Thats what you lose. You lose what you didnt do. You lose a chance, an opportunity to see the results. You'll never have known. You'll never had experienced. Boom.

It's times like this you just cant hesitate. You have to attack to move forward. To clear your path. To create another big conflict that you'll have to fight your way through. Again.

If you wanna do something, do it. Consequences? Yea, i know. You're just gonna have the bear it. It's just another mine. Another beartrap. Another sandpit until you reach that finish line. You cant fear moving. You cant just stay in a spot. You're gonna meet them, its inevitable. its just a matter of time. You cant let fear delay your advance.

Then you'll be victor. Victor and failure and failure and victor. Every failure, every setback, every unforeseen consequence, every mine- It strengthens. And you'll just have to keep on going.

Fear is just one big headache

'
Im going to move forward. There's something i must do.
And im asking for trouble, really. I am
"You called down the thunder, now reap the whirlwind."
'

I just hope i've smeared my swords with enough aspirin.

- "And he swore by him who lives for ever and ever,"

Why do you fight?

For Love?
For Hate?

For Power?
For Strength?

For Honour?
For Betrayal?

For Order?
For Anarchy?

For Peace?
For Conflict?

For Thrill?

For Freedom?

For Justice?

For Vengeance?

Out of Ardor or Indifference?

Anger or Affection?

Fear or Valour?

To Damn? To Convict?

To Kill? To Die?

To Live? To Protect?

For Self? For Destiny? For Desire? For Hope?

For Sin?

- Slash

I know i look ridiculous,
But it's what i do.
(And it's all to protect you)

- Out of nowhere

I'm inclined to write for the sake of writing just because i can, just because i know someone out there will inadvertantly stumble upon these words (and decide to throw themself out the window), just because i feel i have space i need to fill. Like putting a chair in some corner of the living room (not naming any names here) just because "it looks plain"- something just needs to be there. Not very practical. Or, if you prefer, practically impractical. Just like this paragraph, which i included to make no sense whatsoever.

I'm sure you noticed the lack of introduction in this post. If you didnt, it's fine, i wont persecute you for it. Dumbass. Hi, my name is JeremyR. I've never used a computer and i cannoto speakah engrish. Im not materialistic (except when it comes to anything i own) and enjoy long walks on short beaches. I can cook (my speciality's called a "bread sandwich") and am a fucking polite, decent man. Did i mention i dont have a blog?

So today i'm going to talk about Runescape- A game which i had the misfortune of watching someone play in a local Lan Shop. A game which prides itself in having spread across the interweb like the plague did Europe. Except Runescape probably got more casualties, doesnt need the assistance of rats, and probably more deadly. Symptons include extreme boredom, brain retardation, and fear of the outside world. Oh well, it's all the devil's work.

when Runescape is in play, cry and lose 10 IQ per second.

Runescape is an online Role playing game. Basically what this means is that you control a virtual character to collect virtual items, which you use to collect MORE virtual items. These items serve no purpose save for showing them off to people you're never going to meet, or friends who couldnt care. All the while, you'll meet other people, all of which are in the same predicament as you: they're stuck in the game. Hey, misery loves company.

But RPGs can sometimes be fun. The thrill of collecting items and beating up monsters via mouseclick is addictive to the max. That and sometimes, you can sell these items for money. Throw in exciting, vivid graphics to suck the person into the character itself, and fast gameplay to get him or her glued to the screen, andrenaline pumping, and you've got something decent.

Massively popular Runescape has none of those.

The game itself looks like it's been drawn out by a four year old with a brain tumour. First, the people look like big lobs of random pixels put together, with arms. The colours are either dull and boring, or bright enough to give you a seizure- combine this with the fact that most things are patternless and have only one colour to begin with, and you're looking at drawings a fetus with a colour pencil would be ashamed of. It's filled with basic shapes, nothing dynamic and diverse here! It's only redeeming quality: it runs on a "3D engine". Which isnt saying much when "3D" is actually just 2D objects popping out of large, badly coloured blocks. It's very sad when a game from a pc loses graphics-wise to an etch-a-sketch.

Will run without a graphics card.

Which brings me to my next point: How much action can you store in a game that has less graphic potential than 3 grains of sand? Well, sometimes, enough. Pacman and tetris had bad graphics, they turned out ok. Most gameboy graphics are horrible, but it's still something that will keep me entertained if i had absolutely nothing else to do. These games made you use at least 10% of your brain. They had action. Bad graphics, but hey, action.

Not Runescape. In Runescape you have fights involving 2 blobs of pixels next to each other repeating a single frame of animation, while the user has the back breaking task of clicking furiously at the same spot over and over. Meanwhile, little red pixels (i'll assume its blood) will start flying about, displaying the games' graphic capabilities at its time. Throw in grunting, moaning, and bad porno music in the background, and you've got yourself a game as exciting as notepad.

Rated M17+ for intense graphic violence, blood and gore, sexual content, and/or strong language.

There isnt much else to say about Runescape except for the idiocy of the game in general. Seriously folks, im sure you've got more exciting ways to spend your time. Here, try this: Take a bowl, put it in a microwave, and turn the microwave on. I swear, the results will amaze you. Other fun activities involve watching paint dry and watching grass grow - cheer with your friends for added social fun("GROW GROW GROW! GROW GROW GROW!). Whatever the choice, i'm sure it'll be healthier for your head.

Or what's left of it.