Addictive. Go ahead, play it once and quit. Don't look back. Don't think "just one more try".
More addictive than Crack.

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I am young, and yet even at these relatively formative years of my life I have seen a lot. I have been to some wonderful places, seen some wonderful things, and known some wonderful people. I've also been to some soulless places, seen some terrifying things and met some despicable people. The good is always engaged in a tiring struggle to overcome the bad. I've begun my journey to learn as much as I can about the world and it's people, and the start of that journey is excellent at painting a bleak picture for its continuance.

I am generally a happy person. I take much joy and pleasure from my experiences. My outlook is set by default to take the best from everything, and work at improving the negative. I also have capacity for vast disillusionment with life and a hollow sadness which never really goes away, despite the capricious reprieve offered by the rays of light and moments of tranquillity which flit in and out of my existence.

Never shall I acquiesce to the self indulgent pity which threatens to engulf me at times of woe. Never shall I allow the roses in my life to be overshadowed by the pernicious and malignant weeds which strike at me in a never ending conflict, the scars of which shape my being. Never shall I give up, but yet, I am so very tired. I would love so much to believe, to defy my conviction that happiness is a truly elusive fable, that bliss and contentment are for other people. If this life delivers unto me more than I expect I can achieve myself, then I will be a happy man.
But that would be a bigger surprise than my life's combined.

I am, only lost.

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Ok. Ready? I got in my truck one morning. I dutifully checked behind me for victims before backing out of my spot. "Oh, how annoying" I thought. "Some kids have come by and opened my tailgate, and left it open. Little critters should be caged."

I get out and look.at.my.backend. The tailgate has been STOLEN! Fucking stolen! They did a spectacular job though. They lifted it right off and didn't leave so much as a dust particle disturbed otherwise. Bastards.

$900 to replace, and an additional $35.00 for this wacky invention called a tail gate lock. Did you know that the tailgates of trucks are sold in approximately 5,000 pieces, all of which you have to purchase separately? Ok, I lied. I think it’s really only something like 7 pieces, but it feels like 5,000.

I felt awful calling the police and wasting their time with a police report, but the insurance gods required it. After sacrificing the police officer’s precious time, I was free to seek replacement of my stolen goods.

I’m given a 4 door Saturn to drive in the meantime. I feel like I’m riding around on the California freeways in a roller skate. And not a really cool in-line roller skate either. No, more like a vintage 1975, 4 metal wheel roller skate - with no rubber stopper on the front.

I’d like to say that I’ve learned something from this incident - aside from why tailgate locks were invented. I’d love to say I’ve learned to be more courteous to small cars sharing the road with me. That I’ve realized it could have been worse and that it’s really a minor inconvenience compared to situations other people find themselves in.

I have been robbed of two things. One is the obvious - the other, is what disturbs me more than the first. Years ago, when I lost my transportation to some unforeseen circumstance, I was happy to drive anything that would get me where I wanted/needed to be. This is not the case this time. I am actually bitter about being inconvenienced - to such a degree - that I don’t like myself. I don’t like the person I have become. What happened to me?

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Psst. Hey. You want a modern recipe for mediocrity? Take a horribly overdone movie series, put in a dash of futuristically banal atmosphere, add a cookie-cutter slasher flick plot and a handful of horny college kids. And as Emeril Lagasse would say, "Bam!" Except in all honesty, it's more of a flat fart. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. It's Jason Voorhees. In space. w00t.

If I was asked to describe this movie in three words I would best summarize it as, "Shit, shit, shit." Now, don't get me wrong here. In spite of a few inspired kills, many people thought it blew. Lackluster dialogue frittered with cheap one liners (e.g. "He's screwed.") and women who resemble buxom infants with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome along with a dated character doesn't exactly hit the spot. I wanted this movie to be so good, but yet again my collective conscious recieved a hearty kick in the balls.

I'm glad I borrowed the bootleg from a friend, otherwise I'd sue the whole goddamned cast and crew for mental damage and psychosis incurred through watching the flop. Yeah. The big "vacuum" scene near the end? That was merely Jason X, sucking wind throughout its cheaply executed ass.

Maybe Freddy vs. Jason will be better. Hah.

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A group of friends saw this the other night, and were raving about like it was the best thing since sliced bread. Given the ingredients, De Niro, Brando, and Norton, this seemed entirely feasible. Naturally, then, I was expecting something pretty good.

It's a rather typical story about a veteran theif tempted out of retirement for one last job, and the upstart who joins him to pull it off. Thiongs go smoothly enough until the upstart decides that he's being used and pulls a fast one.. all predictable enough. But that doesn't mean it's boring.

Don't watch this film expecting anything quite as good as sliced bread, though, for all its qualities. The cast are good, the plot is at least remotely interesting for the most part, and the individual performances add that bit of character and life to a film that would otherwise be fairly dull. There are few surprises, and the on screen action is predictable at best, although the magical Edward Norton spices this up with an excellent performance.

Not great, not bad, not special. But worth watching.

Came across this site, which is all about survival while driving in California.

Our British leader might appreciate the California speak section. See now Alexander? You can learn all about it before you come over here. The only danger not mentioned on the site is the one to your pants should I get ahold of you. *wink*

Surviving California Driving

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On an average day, I'll spend about an hour preparing for work, eight hours working, and five or six hours sleeping. That leaves (roughly) nine hours unaccounted for. Now, if you add in time for preparation and consumption of food, worship, and bathing, it brings us to a mere eight hours in which I get to do the things that I want to do.

So, what do I do? I sit on my ass. I will stare semi-blankly at this screen all night if necessary.

Sure, I have hobbies. I have about half a ton of unpainted pewter resting upon my painting desk. There's a comic strip that Spooky and I have been creating [Shameless Plug], I'm supposed to be writing a monthly newsletter for a games manufacturing company (if they ever decide to actually produce anything...), and I'm and avid reader. It seems to me as though I never have enough time to get it all done. Yet, every night, I sit here and stare at my computer monitor as if it's supposed to tell me something.

My parents have, in my opinion, a horrible habit. The television is on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. While they aren't always parked in front of it's warm and inviting glow, a majority of their free time involves it. They grew up with TV, and now they grow old with it. Their parents had radio, and it is (seemingly) dying with them.

My generation has this machine, this teat from which it suckles it's view of the society. We've become more interactive with each passing step. Hearing the world, seeing the world, touching the world. Though it's a better medium than it's predecessors in terms of capabilities, I wonder if it's really progress.

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I'm not a great fan of horror movies. The Others starts off as a horror-movie amateur such as myself would expect; big ol' house on a fog-ridden landscape, with little civilisation in sight. Set in wartime Allied territory, the focus is on a household whereby a single mother takes care of her light-wary children soon to be helped by a dodgy-looking band of servants.

I'll try not to spoil it, but through a long and somewhat tedious chain of events the mother (Nicole Kidman) grows ever more paranoid about the possibility that the house is haunted. The children are both excellent in their performances and deserve far more praise than their more famous co-star.

The plot is tiresome, though. Interspersed with the odd moment of tension is some stereotypical acting on Kidman's part and dull and predictable developments. The twist at the end is somewhat expected, and the good points don't really stand up to the bad ones. Worth watching, but not unless there's nothing else.