#oneaday Day 97: The Grindstone

For those of you who don't know, I'm currently writing daily for GamePro. This is, of course, awesome and I'm both happy and honoured to be able to do so, even if it means having to remember how all you Americans spell things and the fact that companies are singular nouns, not plurals.

Having been out of full-time (well, pretty much any work) for the best part of a year, coming back to actually having to do stuff in the daytime is, unsurprisingly, a bit of a system shock. Not in a bad way, though. On the contrary, it's nice to be able to get up and know that I have Things To Do. I don't know if you (yes, you, reading this) have ever experienced unemployment, but while it sounds like the best thing ever in many ways—just not having to commute is heavenly—after a while it does get both annoying and demoralising.

Which is why returning to work—even if it's work from home at curious, PST-friendly hours like I'm currently doing—can sometimes be a surprise. Having had entire days of nothingness to fill with any combination of sitting on the Internet, watching TV, trawling your DVD collection, playing video games or even—shock—going out—having a healthy chunk of your day taken up by Stuff You Have To Do means that you have to rethink things somewhat.

It's a lot more difficult to find the time to go out running, for example. I could go in the mornings if I woke up a bit earlier, of course, but still operating on a slightly-skewed body clock means that doesn't always (ever) happen. There's the weekends too, of course—but then weekends get filled up with socialising and doing things you don't have time to do in the week. You start to understand the expression "not enough hours in the day" all too well.

Don't get the impression I'm complaining—I'm really enjoying the work I'm doing and I hope that shows in what I produce. I like what I do and people who read it seem to like it, too. So that's all good. I just find it quite amusing that when you have the time to do everything you might want to do, you don't have the means to. And when you do have the means to, you don't have the time! Craziness.

I couldn't tell you for sure if things are going to stay exactly this way, but it's certainly better than the way things have been. It's been a long, difficult and not particularly pleasant road to get here, but it's entirely possible that the destination's in sight. What that destination is? No idea.

We'll find out, I guess. Watch this space.

#oneaday Day 94: Darkness Falls

It's been quite some time since I blogged at this hour. Last year, it was a semi-regular occurrence, thanks either to my buggered-up body clock, failing to blog until the late evening (or in some cases, until after I'd gone out and come back again) but for the most part, this year the datestamps on my work have been for the correct day. Tonight I've been recording a podcast, though, and I didn't think to write something earlier, largely 'cause I was working.

I like night-time. I've often thought that night-time is the period in which my brain works best. Well, I'm not sure about "best" because I doubt if I wanted to do anything which could be called "work" right now that I'd do it to the best of my ability, but my brain certainly is at its most creative.

This is both a blessing and a curse; it means that the imagination can run wild, allowing you to picture wild and fantastic scenes as you attempt to lull yourself to sleep, but it also means that you can worry about things like taxes, cancer and alien invasions. It's strange that the time of day at which you should theoretically be most exhausted is actually the time at which your brain seems most keen to get up, jump around and keep tapping you on the shoulder.

Perhaps it's the fact that there's no other distractions. By the time it gets to this hour, hopefully you have no "commitments" to worry about, no work to do, nothing you absolutely must do right now. As such, your brain decides that it's playtime and starts wandering around looking for things to do when in fact all your body wants to do is get to sleep.

Sitting in darkness with a total lack of distractions is a good time to get things sorted in your mind. Given that we live in a world where we are surrounded by devices, websites, pets, siblings, partners, family members and various other things which all demand our attention to varying degrees, the opportunity to sit in the darkness and be, for once, alone with your thoughts is something which should be welcomed and cherished. You don't necessarily have to come to any conclusions or make any big decisions—but the simple act of taking a moment to listen to what your brain is telling you is often enough to make you feel better about something.

And remember, whatever your brain might be telling you at 2AM, the eventual outcome will never be as bad as you're expecting. So in many senses, those anxieties that you might find yourself feeling at stupid o' clock in the morning may, in fact, just be setting you up for a pleasant surprise a little way down the road.

Now I'm going to go to sleep before I babble on about any more crap.

#oneaday Day 93: The Language of Barbers

I do not know how to talk to hairdressers or barbers. I'm not even convinced I know the difference, aside from the fact that hairdressers are assumed by Jeremy Clarkson to be somewhat effeminate and drive girly convertibles like the Mazda MX-5 before charging you three hundred quid to make the tips of your haircut a little bit lighter, whereas barbers, in my experience, tend to be blokey blokes armed with scissors and clippers who will shear your mane for ten quid.

Regardless of whether I'm talking to a hairdresser or a barber, though, as soon as I get in that chair, I don't know what to say. I have a couple of "backup haircuts" that I can consistently ask for — "number [x] all over" if I want people to see what the shape of my head is all over, or "number [x] at the sides and back, short on top" if I want the back of my head to feel like Fuzzy Felt whilst having enough on top to do weird things with "product" if necessary.

But I'm still not sure of the etiquette. The idea of walking into a barbers' shop and saying "do something with my hair that doesn't make me look like a penis" seems a little… odd. I mean, I'm sure people who cut hair are suitably trained in the art of not making people look like penises (or at least, not unless they ask them to) and have plenty of creativity of their own, but when I sit in that chair, it feels like I should know what I'm asking for.

Perhaps it's the "bloke thing" that Bill Bailey discusses towards the end of this clip:

Namely, the fact that "blokes" assume that they should know what they're talking about; the haircut equivalent of not walking into a garage, bursting into tears and saying "it's broken!" whilst pointing in the general direction of your car. You can't point at your hair, say "it's shit!" and get them to do something with it. For one, that's putting a lot of trust in someone you don't necessarily know to do something to your appearance that you have to live with every day.

What makes it worse is the fact that any time I have genuinely asked anyone else what I should do with my hair, I have never got a straight answer. This leads me to believe that no-one knows what to say to barberdressers, and that everyone is in fact fooling each other by talking about highlights, lowlights, split ends and pro-vitamin B5.

And don't even get me started on the range of "product" out there. What, pray, is the difference between hair gel, wax, putty, goop, spunk, glue and splart?

#oneaday Day 92: Dream On

Discussing dreams is regarded by many as self-indulgent, but then so is blogging, so to the people who whinge and moan about everything I say "RASPBERRIES, GOOD SIR" and bare my bum at them. (Maybe not the bum bit.)

But anyway. Dreams. Weird, aren't they? A statement that surely qualifies for the "Captain Obvious Award 2011", yes, but it's true — which is why it's obvious, obviously. I have, however, come to the conclusion recently that the most vivid and bizarre dreams seem to come not during your big long sleep that you (hopefully) have throughout the whole night, but instead in those brief "snooze" periods you have between alarm clock harassment in the morning. Assuming you use an alarm clock. If not, it's those brief snooze periods you have between waking up and deciding you can't be arsed to get out of bed just yet.

Anyway. Regardless of when those brief snooze periods happen, that's when your brain suddenly decides that the most interesting and/or fucked-up dreams really need to happen. Because, as everyone knows, the brain works best under pressure. Ask any student or journalist with a deadline coming up.

Take this morning. I woke on an airbed on my friend's floor (I do know how I got there, I hasten to add) and considered getting up but wasn't sure if it was a good idea because my phone battery had gone flat and I wasn't wearing a watch. And this being the digital age, of course there were no clocks anywhere to be seen that weren't on mobile phones or on TV-connected things that made noise and would wake up my sleeping companion (who was on a different air bed, I hasten to add, and sleeping off an enormous amount of alcohol that he had consumed over the course of the whole day in celebration of both digits of his age changing) so basically, I couldn't tell if it was late enough to wake up in a suitably sociable manner. You get me? Good.

Now we've established that, I can explain; following the above, I established that it probably was too early to wake up, so I promptly fell asleep again. (Oddly enough, I find it enormously difficult to fall asleep at actual normal bedtime, but have absolutely no problem dropping off again in the morning. Somewhat frustrating and a little impractical.) My brain decided that this would be an appropriate time to imagine going to the fridge, taking out a 4-pint bottle of milk to take a refreshing cold swig from and discovering that it was actually full of egg-fried rice.

"Hmm, seems a bit ricey," I said. The people in the kitchen at the time (whom I didn't see) found this hilarious and we all had a good giggle about it. Then I woke up. Cool story bro.

If dreams are supposed to be some sort of "message", then I have absolutely no idea whatsoever what that was trying to tell me. I drink too much milk? I really fancy a chinese? I'm going to die? I have no idea, but I guess it's no weirder than the time I dreamed about navigating a field made entirely of strawberry mousse.

#oneaday Day 91: Boozehound

It's a curious thing, alcohol. Some people enjoy it, others don't. One thing we seem to be afflicted with a bit in this country is the assumption that alcohol is somehow necessary to have a good time, like it unlocks a magical gateway to some nether realm of ultimate happiness.

But does it, though? It certainly lowers inhibitions and makes people more open to the idea of acting like a dickhead — and, by extension, amusing everyone else. This certainly leads to lots of memorable evenings — it occurred to me last time I was out with a bunch of people that a lot of stories start with "there was this time we were all really drunk" and end with someone being sick or falling over or hurting themselves.

Good nights don't necessarily need alcohol to be good. You just need something to happen to be memorable. This depends a lot on the chemistry between the people you're with. With the right people, you can have a thoroughly silly night without the need to get a sick bucket afterwards.

The people I was out with tonight are some of my oldest friends; people I've known since high school. While our nights out often involve a bit of drinking, we certainly don't need drinks to act like dicks and yell "COCK" at each other.

Which is, you know, nice.

I have a lovely weekend ahead of me so I will say goodnight for now. Stay frosty.

#oneaday Day 89: Tick

Time zones are a big pain in the arse. Particularly when you find yourself inadvertently operating on one that you don't live in. I've had a pretty ballsed-up body clock for quite a while now, but it sort of doesn't matter.

It started towards the end of my time in Southampton last year, when I made a new friend online who happened to live in the mountains in the States. We frequently talked until stupid o'clock in the morning which meant that I'd go to bed as the sun was rising and often not wake up until the afternoon of the next day. Like, late afternoon. The kind of late afternoon that made staggering into the local shop and having the man with the smelly armpits behind the counter asking "how my day had been" to be a little embarrassing. Of course, there were extenuating circumstances at the time that meant I wasn't particularly concerned with social niceties and a sense of "normality" because frankly, at the time, my life was anything but "normal".

But anyway.

(The fact I was also doing some writing work based on Eastern time shifts probably didn't help matters. The closest approximation to a "working day" that I had started at about 7pm and ran until 11 at night. But I digress.)

A trip to the States over the holiday period last year offered the opportunity to live like a normal human being for a while. There was also the fact that at roughly 7am (or sometimes before) I'd be woken up by either a large dog wanting a cuddle or children watching television. I don't begrudge them those things, particularly as I was sleeping in their lounge, but it did mean that I could wake up at a "normal" time.

Currently, it's not quite as bad as it has been. I still stay awake quite late—despite trying to get to sleep early in many cases—and find myself able to get up anywhere between 10AM and 12PM GMT. Oddly enough, this is only the case when I'm at "home". When I'm staying with someone else, whether it's sleeping on a floor, couch or hotel room bed, it's absolutely no problem to wake up at a normal time—and go to sleep at a normal time, for that matter. It's curious.

Still, I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I'm essentially operating on Pacific time for much of my waking existence. This isn't so bad, of course, as the work I'm currently doing is based around Pacific time and I have a lot of friends in the States with whom I can chat via Twitter and various IM systems. (There's also the fact that some of those people clearly never sleep at all, but that's an entirely different issue altogether.)

So if you need me, don't ever worry about it being "a bad time" because chances are, I'll be awake somewhere, somehow, sometime.

#oneaday Day 87: Don't Worry

Some people are perpetual worriers, concerned about every last detail of every little thing they (and others) do, utterly convinced that if appropriate preparation for every single possible disaster isn't adhered to then something awful will absolutely, certainly and totally happen.

I'm not one of those people. But then neither am I their antithesis, the laid-back, breezy type who lets crisis after crisis wash over them in a totally infuriating manner, managing to stay calm amidst people's heads exploding, zombies bursting through the windows and/or their dwindling finances. (Specific crises depend on the person, obviously.)

I'm somewhere in between. There are times when I panic about things. Like proper full-on panic attacks. (They're not pleasant, if you've ever had one.) I haven't had one for a while, but in the past, they've been caused by two things—working in education and money. I have dealt with one of those two issues by kicking it in the balls and telling it never to come back into my life ever again, at least until I get totally desperate, which hopefully I won't have to. I'm working on the other one.

But then other times I find myself unconcerned with things, thinking them more trivial than they perhaps actually are. This is good for short-term mental well-being, but not great when you put things off until it's too late and then they end up causing panic. Actually, saying "unconcerned" is perhaps misleading; it's not that I don't care. At times, though, things are difficult to contemplate and even harder to talk about, even amongst the people you trust the most. Some things are scary, and so putting them to one side is a way of facing them later, an attitude advocated by Final Fantasy XIII, of all things. It's a good feeling when you get up the confidence to say something that's been bothering you for ages and you feel like you can get the help or the support you need—but at the same time, you don't always have people there to help you or just to listen, so those are the times when being able to compartmentalise your thoughts and set them aside for a little while becomes useful.

It is one of those things, I suspect, that there isn't an easy answer to. The way I am may sound like something of a "happy medium" but in practice it's not; it's the two extremes and nothing in between. Everything negative is either a total disaster that keeps me lying awake at night, or unimportant bollocks that I don't need to think about right now. If only there was a way of compressing everything in just a little bit so that the disastrous things became simple irritants that I actually felt motivated to deal with and the unimportant bollocks also became mild irritants that, while not exactly pressing, were just niggling enough to make me want to swat them away like flies.

Perhaps this is one of the things people deal with in therapeutic sessions.

#oneaday Day 86: Defiant Destiny

If you've read any fantasy (or, to a lesser extent, science fiction) novels or played any RPGs (pen and paper or computer-based) you'll be familiar with the concept of "Fate" or "Destiny", whatever you want to call it. The idea that everything that happens is part of a string of events that are "supposed" to happen, things that are planned out, destined to come to pass with an eventual goal which isn't necessarily completely clear.

It's a spiritual, quasi-religious sort of concept, I guess, but despite not being a religious type in the slightest, I'm a bit of a believer in the idea.

Or perhaps it's not Fate or Destiny. Perhaps it's simply the fact that everyone makes choices in their lives, and those choices have consequences that can continue to affect things months, even years, down the line. Not only that, but one person's choices can affect the lives of other people and the choices they make too. Without one simple little thing happening, things might be entirely different.

Take something as seemingly inconsequential as, say, joining Twitter. Without joining Twitter on whenever-it-was (a piece of information that I'm sure used to be easier to find out) there's a ton of things that would never have happened. It's entirely possible that the Squadron of Shame SquadCast wouldn't have happened and that the small but tight-knit community that has grown around that over at the Squawkbox wouldn't be what it is today. Without that happening, I might not have been spurred on to quit my job and try and "make it" writing—something which yes, I'm aware I still have some way to go on, but it is at least considerably further along than it once was. Without that happening, many of the events of the last year might not have happened, for better or worse. I might not have met a number of awesome people who have become very important to me (in very different ways to each other, I might add). And I might not be sitting here now wondering what the future holds in a positive, forward-looking manner rather than dreading it.

Of course, some may point out that some of the events in that sequence of things indirectly led to bad things happening, which means that without my joining Twitter in the first place I might be sitting in a very different place right now in an alternate timeline. But then that's where the question of "Fate" or "Destiny" comes in. Perhaps that's one key event that was "supposed" to happen in order to make all that other stuff come to pass. And even the bad stuff, in that case, happened for a reason to lead me on towards some sort of eventual future awesomeness that hasn't quite happened yet but feels like it's finally starting to get there.

You can really over-think things if you're not careful. Live in the moment. Do what seems right. Tackle the consequences as they come. Life will throw you challenges and big, steaming lumps of shit along the way, but at some point, eventually, you'll find yourself on the pathway to something that's "right", something where your eventual goal is clear, if far away.

Am I on that pathway yet? Couldn't say. But I know that for the first time in a long while, I'm looking forward to finding out.

#oneaday Day 85: Help Wanted

Sometimes it's not clear how video game heroes got themselves into the situations they're in at the start of a game. It's at times like this that I like to imagine they answered a job advertisement like one of the following. Can you spot the games they're from?

—

WANTED: Caretaker for large medieval castle. Some internal renovations required. Successful applicants will have good athletic ability and will be unconcerned by stories of "the undead". What is a man? Anyone who can apply for this job—we don't discriminate. £DOE. Call Simon.

—

WANTED: Pest control technician to operate in secluded literacy-heavy society. Good performance in this role will lead to quick promotion prospects and the opportunity for a considerable amount of travel. The successful candidate must have good interpersonal and leadership skills, be open to the idea of taking on seemingly insurmountable challenges and be interested in their own lineage. £excellent. Ask for Gorion.

—

WANTED: Computer specialist for exciting new project in space. Must be well-versed in use of lead piping for improvisatory technical solutions, interested in the ethical implications of artificial intelligence and not easily terrified. £available on application. Call 01010011 01001000 01001111 01000100 01000001 01001110 and ask for Sharon.

—

WANTED: New recruits to police force for small Mid-Western town prone to outbreaks of bizarre crime and disease. Must be able to handle small to large firearms with no training, and have difficulty running both in a straight line and around corners. Floppy hair is beneficial, though not essential. £good. Call Claire.

—

WANTED: Refuse collection operative to trial new system of collecting waste. Successful applicant will have good ball-handling skills and be open to the idea of travel. £amazing. Call K. Cosmos.

—

WANTED: Ex-soldier with good leadership skills sought for assistance with new environmental project. Background unimportant. Familiarity with anachronistic weapon technologies a distinct advantage. £stupendous. Call Mr Wallace.

—

WANTED: New recruits to police force for the most geographically diverse region in North America. Must hold full, clean driving licence and be familiar with the operation of high-powered sports cars—we don't do things by halves here. Split-personality applicants who enjoy occasionally delving into street racing themselves are welcome to apply. £outrageous. Call Dispatch.

—

WANTED: Rapping dog to assist with unexpected noodle-related issues. Specialist problem requires specialist recruitment. £inconceivable. Call C. C. M. Onion.

—

WANTED: Color-blind gentleman with large neck sought for friendship, camaraderie and maybe more. Must not be afraid of insects. £not bad. Call Dom.

—

WANTED: New owner for ailing bookshop in French Quarter. Assistant provided. Your role will involve very little working in the shop and a lot of wandering around town. Would suit lazy, arrogant prig. £rubbish. Call Grace.

—

WANTED: Witch sought for a job that is "out of this world". Height a distinct advantage, as is familiarity with the use of pistols with both hands and feet. Can you sparkle, are you gonna shine? £fabulous. Call Rodin.

—

WANTED: News reporter. Must be able to dance and produce bulletins that look good but have no real content whatsoever. Female applicants preferred. £superfabulous. Call Fuse.

#oneaday Day 84: The Crossovers That Will Never Be

There's a ton of untapped potential in the world of the crossover. Comics have been wise to this for a long time, with DC and Marvel in particular being highly aware of the fact that all their superheroes are running around disparate parts of the same world and might just bump into each other on occasion.

But what would happen if some of the more bizarre crossovers came to fruition? Well, let's explore that, shall we?

Castlevania: Deep Space Nine

The most modern the series has got was with Soma Cruz, and even then it was still all bats and caves and swords and whatnot. Castlevania should go to space, and specifically to Deep Space Nine. Why? Because I had a dream about it so therefore it must be a good idea.

Benjamin Sisko discovers that as well as being the Emissary he is also a descendent of the Belmont clan and—horrors!—Dracula has found a way to harness the power of the Bajoran wormhole to summon forth the forces of Darkness into our reality. Fortunately, power of said wormhole also manages to summon Alucard, with little to no explanation as to why (this is Castlevania, you don't ask silly questions like "why?") who very carefully passes Sisko the Vampire Killer whip. Thus begins an exciting and thrilling co-operative adventure throughout the many decks of Deep Space Nine, culminating in a thrilling showdown with Dracula, who reprises his famous "What Is A Man?" speech in zero gravity.

Features narration by Patrick Stewart, as is the law for all new Castlevania games.

Dragon's Den: Origins

The Archdemon is rising, and the world needs a hero. But heroes don't just come out of nowhere. They need to be found.

Enter The Dragons: Peter Jones, Deborah Meaden, Theo Paphitis, Duncan Bannatyne and James Caan. A series of aspiring Heroes of Ferelden climb the stairs of destiny and pitch their ideas with which they believe they'll be able to take down the Archdemon. Only by securing a Dragon's investment in their expedition will they have a chance of success, otherwise they'll be doomed to wandering the land in rusty chainmail using swords that fall apart as soon as you hit a log with them.

Superman: The Krypton Factor

A brand new gameshow featuring Superman attempting to overcome a variety of physical and mental challenges, all of which are laced with kryptonite. Will Superman survive this episode? Will he finally succumb to kryptonite's influence? As the series finale, Superman has to defeat Gordon Burns in single combat, as it turns out that Burns, too, is also a superhero, but one who draws power from kryptonite instead of being weakened by it. WHO WILL PREVAIL?

Total WipeOut HD Fury

A combination of futuristic racing and people falling in the water repeatedly, the twist is that the courses which the high-speed anti-grav racers and the people running around have to follow are the same, causing significant risk to life and limb for anyone hopping over those giant Super Mario mushrooms whilst the pack bears down on them at approximately 700mph. The winner is the team whose antigrav racer and panicking human both survive.

The Hairy Bikers in: Road Rash

The Hairy Bikers have had enough, and have decided to take on a gruesome, brutal world tour atop their throbbing motorbikes. Along the way, they smack the shit out of anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path, collect the meat from the smouldering corpses and cook it into a delicious recipe between each stage of their journey.