
It's an incontrovertible and irritating fact that the more means you have to enjoy new and exciting things, the less time you'll have to do them in. As you get older, the days seem to get shorter—or at least fuller—and the weeks seem to fly by. Before you know it, you're dead.
Well, okay, that's an exaggeration. But it's certainly true once you, say, get out of university and start work. I remember the first couple of weeks at university. It was a whirlwind of new shit. Not literally, that would be disgusting. But a bunch of us decided that if there was ever a time to try out some new things, the first few weeks of university was it.
So we did. Shortly after arriving and introducing ourselves to each other (memorably, most of my flatmates' first experience of me was witnessing me cooking a bacon sandwich whilst wearing a lop-sided dressing gown, as I'd been there a few days prior to them) we decided that we'd go along to the various taster sessions that the university clubs offered. Most of them would likely be things we wouldn't want to continue with, we decided, but we might as well give them a go.
So it was that several of us found ourselves lying on the dirty floor of what was basically a big shed clutching large rifles and feeling extremely nervous about what the nice man had said about making sure you don't accidentally shoot it at the floor because it will probably kill you. But then we got into the whole "shooting holes in bits of paper" thing and it all became a lot more interesting. Sure, none of us went back after that, but the fact I can say I've fired an actual real rifle is pretty cool.
And so it was that we found ourselves attending a ninjutsu class, learning the best way to deal with a knife-clutching attacker who is attempting to bum you or just kill you from behind. (Stick your bum out to knock him back, grab his arm, twist it in a smooth but convoluted manner, whip the knife up his arm, shaving all his skin off and causing considerable pain, pull him down to the ground, bash his elbow on the floor to break it in a manner which is difficult to heal and finally kick him in the face. Possibly. I forget.) One of us went back and learned quite a lot about various ways to ninj other people to death. (What? "Ninj" is absolutely the verb to describe what ninjas do. They ninj people. You ninj. I ninj. They ninj. He/she/it ninjes. No? Shut up.) The rest of us didn't.
That didn't stop us trying out the other Ninjutsu club, where most of the session felt like Ninjas' Playtime, as the entire class did forward roll after forward roll back and forth up and down a padded room. It was fun, but unlikely to kill anyone.
And so it was we found ourselves trying out the fencing club and discovering that people who have been fencing for a long time not only are much better than complete beginners, but they're awfully smug about it. And epees somehow aren't quite as satisfying as big, proper, actual swords. But then they'd probably be a bit more fatal. Unless everyone got to wear armour, and then you'd kind of be going into Knight Club territory, rather than fencing.
We continued this pattern for a while. Some of us stuck with the Karate-do-Shotokai club for a while, others (including myself) drifted off. Now, as most of us are pushing 30, you have to wonder if we'll ever have the opportunity to get involved in such a diverse array of new things ever again.
Day 453
Earlier today, a story broke that divided opinions somewhat. The point and content of the story at this stage isn't especially important or relevant to what I'm particularly interested in right now, but the gist of the arguments that people are having is that it was a report based on anonymous sources that sounded like "just another rumour".
Certain things are just naturally irritating or set your teeth on edge. That horrible sound polystyrene packing makes when you take it out of a cardboard box. That accent chavs do when it's clear they very much want to be black gangstas but instead are pasty, skinny white dudes from Portsmouth. The sight of the "roadworks ahead" sign on the motorway.
I Googled the number 102. The results might surprise you. If you're really bored and easily surprised.
Oh, Twitter. You know I love you. But there are times when being with you is like being stuck in a convention of Dads. And then being stuck in a time-slowing-down machine. For several days, in many cases.
[Side note: Day 100! Yay. This marks my 448th day of blogging every day. I've been half-tempted to start numbering the posts from when I originally started again, but then that will just get confusing. Perhaps I'll put the total number at the end of each post or something. I don't have an eventual goal number in mind—I fully intend to keep doing this until I can't do it any more, for whatever reason. But given that I continued writing through the disastrous events of last year, it'll take something pretty severe to stop me being here every day. Now, on to your regularly scheduled blog post.]
Yes, I have discovered
Music's a powerful tool for emotional manipulation. You can use it to make people laugh, cry, jump, be scared, be excited and get tingly feelings in those hairs on the back of their neck.
For those of you who don't know, I'm currently writing daily for
The thing I like about games that are a bit off the beaten track is the fact that they're not afraid to break with every gaming convention under the sun in order to try something a bit different. Objectively, sometimes they're not great "games" in the traditional sense, but they are definitely worthwhile experiences that explore interesting new ways of telling stories.