Category: Personal and Opinion

#oneaday, Day 193: Constants

Things that stay the same are supposedly boring. But they have their uses. And they don't have to be boring at all. Look at great works of art, literature, music, whatever. They don't change. They're always the same. And yet people flock to see them, read them, listen to them year after year after year.

Things that stay the same can provide comfort and a sense of familiarity. Whether this is the discarded magazine that's been sitting on the floor next to the bed for the last six months because you couldn't be arsed to find a home for it, or the friend you went to school with, that sense of familiarity can help provide some kind of firm grounding, even when all else is chaos.

Back on Day 106, I used the term "crystallised memories" to describe static objects that had memories inexorably attached to them. In some senses, this is a similar concept. But the memories that are attached to the objects can change over time. Things that are constant stay, by their very nature, constant.

Take this evening. I went to visit a friend I was at school with. Although he's got a house, is living with his girlfriend and came to the disturbing (to him) realisation that he's been working the same job for ten years, he's still the guy I went to school with. Perhaps not visually. But certainly in attitudes and behaviour. We get together, and we start acting like a couple of sixteen year old dickheads like no time whatsoever has passed. When in fact a significant proportion of both our respective lives has passed, with significant changes afoot for both of us.

We contacted another friend via Xbox LIVE while I was there. Again, a constant in terms of attitude, behaviour, character. It was like nothing had changed.

After I left my friend's house, I went for a drive to the local supermarket to pick up a couple of things I needed. This drive, again, was comfortably familiar. Although there have been some minor changes to the road layout in a few places, for the most part, these were the roads I learned to drive on, so I know them like a thing you know the layout of really well.

This is good. This sort of thing makes the whole "moving on" thing that much more bearable. The idea of moving to a new city was somewhat appealing; but the idea of being alone there and not knowing anyone was not. Taking a step "backwards" and picking up where I left off with these people while at the same time rebuilding my life into the image I want it to go into? This is (hopefully) a good thing. We shall see, I guess.

My life, and that of a number of other people too, is all chaos and flux right now. I long for the time when everything settles down and I can just start enjoying myself. I hope it won't be too long before that happens. Positive steps have been taken this week. So let's hope those positive steps lead to full-on positivity.

Things can't be that much worse than they have been. The needle has to swing the other way sometime. I'm hoping now (or at least "very soon") is the time.

#oneaday, Day 192: Movin' On

When is somewhere not "home" any more?

Southampton has been my "home" ever since I went to university there in 1999. Even during the years I lived in Winchester and Aldershot, I still considered Southampton my "home". But since everything that has happened, I think it's lost its sheen. Part of this is, I feel, the city's natural decline which has taken place ever since WestQuay opened slap bang in the middle of the town centre and promptly obliterated the High Street. But another side of it is, as my buddy Kalam said a short while back, having "got all you can" out of the city. It has nothing more to offer. You've completed it. 100%. Achievement Unlocked. That sort of thing.

I went to Cambridge today, a place I haven't been for ages and the place I always say I'm originally from because no-one knows where "Great Gransden" is. I was there for a job interview, which I'm not going to discuss here for fear of jinxing things. But one thing struck me as I was in the city. Two things, actually. The first was "God, I hope I never accidentally drive into this city centre as it looks nightmarish to drive around". Picture tiny, narrow, medieval streets. Now picture a fucking great bus going down them. Now picture about 300 cyclists cycling the wrong way down the street. Nice.

That wasn't the important thing, though. The important thing I thought was "God, this place sure is nicer than Southampton". I'm not sure if it's always been that way and I just took it for granted growing up, but it's a much more attractive city than Southampton. It seems cleaner, less crowded, less infested with chavs and the Starbucks that are there have a much wider selection of cakes and sandwiches. Even the women are hotter; a fact that several other people will happily back me up on.

So perhaps this is the right time to find a new city, and Cambridge should be it. There's a lot to offer. This job, for a start. Some decent shops. Some nice open spaces. Decent people. Lack of chavs. A river that doesn't look like a sewage factory, with actual person-propelled boats on it. A sense of history.

Southampton has many of these things, of course. But as I've said, the place has lost its sheen somewhat. Sometimes, I guess, you need a change. Particularly when a place that you once called "home" had everything that you once thought made life good stripped away from it. In those circumstances, I'm guessing it's best to leave the past behind physically as well as mentally.

I guess we'll have to wait and see how things work out. But today was very positive—that's all I'm saying for now—and hopefully will lead to great things.

Further bulletins as events warrant.

Oh, and I won a Diplomatic Victory in a game of Civ IV earlier. That's not relevant to any of the above, but I thought I'd share.

#oneaday, Day 191: Pay To Play

I wrote a news post relating to this subject earlier tonight, but I thought I'd expand on the thoughts I alluded to in there in a proper blog post. It's a matter of some debate, and the post itself provoked some discussion. This is good, as it's an issue in the games industry that needs talking about.

I'm referring to DLC. But not just any DLC. DLC that you get a little voucher for in a sparkly new copy of a game, like it's some "free bonus" and not at all something that's there to squeeze a bit of extra cash out of purchasers of a pre-owned copy of the game.

It's happened a few times recently. The most recognisable examples are probably Dragon Age: Origins and Mass Effect 2, both of which provided "free bonus" content for those who purchased the game new. Dragon Age included a new character who integrated into the storyline and had a bunch of quests associated. Mass Effect included the "Cerberus Network", a ticket to a whole bunch of free DLC. They've since started charging for new packs, but the first bunch of additional content available for Mass Effect 2 players was gratis. So long as you had access to the "Cerberus Network".

Most recently, we've had Alan Wake. Now, I will hold my hands up here and say I haven't yet played Alan Wake. I understand it's rather good. However, one recurring comment that I've heard from a number of friends is that the story comes to a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion. Perhaps "unsatisfying" is the wrong word; the game sets itself up for a sequel, apparently. Fair enough; plenty of games have done that. Did anyone play Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance? Worst. Cliffhanger. Ever.

But for purchasers of the game to be teased with the fact that there is some DLC coming "soon" that will continue the story beyond the cliffhanger ending and bridge the gap between this and the semi-inevitable sequel? That sounds awfully like leaving a game unfinished and withholding the true ending to me. Now, granted, Remedy haven't said they've deliberately withheld content. But something stinks about this. Think back to the days of the PS2; if you purchased a narrative-based game, you'd expect it to come to some sort of conclusion, whether that's a cliffhanger ending designed to set up a sequel, or a definite finale. Very occasionally expansion packs made an appearance, but these were, for the most part, confined to home computers with the ability to install data.

What we have now is effectively a game which says "Here's the game. Here's a cliffhanger. BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!"—but only for people who either bought the game new or who are willing to pony up 560 Microsoft Points for the privilege of continuing a story which should have been finished in the main game.

I find this sort of thing more objectionable than EA's approach with Dragon Age and Mass Effect's DLC. At least in those games, all the DLC takes the form of optional sidequests. Sure, some of them impact the main plot. But they don't strip out what appears to be an important part of the core narrative of the game.

Alan Wake, being a more linear game by nature, doesn't have the luxury of sidequests to insert into its structure. As such, I know I personally would much rather they had either left this content out altogether and put it into the sequel, or included it in the game in the first place. To do it in this manner seems rather unnecessary, not to mention a sharp poke in the eye to those who typically purchase pre-owned games because they're cheaper. (cf. me)

Still, this looks like becoming something of a standard business practice for large developers at the moment, so we should probably get used to it. At least the independent and smaller developers haven't jumped on the bandwagon yet.

DLC is all very well and good—it hearkens back to the old days of going to the shops to buy an "expansion pack" for a favourite game—but when the "extra" content feels like it probably should have been in there in the first place? Hmm. I start to think it's not such a good idea for people with money and power to get their claws into.

What do you think?

#oneaday, Day 190: The Highway Code Errata

It has come to our attention that there are a number of sections of The Highway Code which state rules incorrectly. This document is designed to correct these mistakes.

Rules for Pedestrians

  • ITEM 1 – "Footways or footpaths (including any path along the side of a road) should be used if provided." should read "Footways or footpaths are optional for use when intoxicated."
  • ITEM 4 – "Young children should not be out alone on the footway, footpath or road." should have "unless you can't be bothered to look after them yourself" added.
  • ITEM 13 – "Routes shared with cyclists". This rule is obsolete. Pedestrians may go wherever they want regardless of anyone else.

Rules for Cyclists

  • ITEM 69 – "You MUST obey all traffic signs and traffic light signals" should read "You MUST NOT obey all traffic signs and traffic light signals".
  • ITEM 71 – "You MUST NOT cross the stop line when the traffic lights are red" should read "You MUST cross the stop line when the traffic lights are red, particularly if there are pedestrians on a crossing."

Rules for Motorcyclists

  • ITEM 88 – "You should be aware of what is behind and to the sides before manoeuvring" should read "Manoeuvring may be done at any time regardless of your surroundings. THINK BIKE, is what everyone else should be thinking."

Rules for Drivers and Motorcyclists

  • ITEM 91 – "the most effective ways to counter sleepiness are to drink, for example, two cups of caffeinated coffee and to take a short nap (up to 15 minutes)" should be in bold, red print.
  • ITEM 97 – "[Before setting off you should ensure that] you have switched off your mobile phone" should read "your mobile phone is within moderately-easy reach and is not attached to a hands-free kit, particularly if driving a car of German origin."
  • ADDENDUM – "Drivers of cars of German origin have a special function, normally occupied by the hazard warning lights. Simply activate these lights to be legally permitted to park anywhere you like, however inconvenient it may be to other users and whether or not it is otherwise legal to do so."

Traffic Signs

  • "No Overtaking" should read "No Overtaking unless you think you can take them".
  • "Maximum speed" should read "Minimum speed"
  • "No entry for vehicular traffic" should read "No entry for vehicular traffic, except you, because you're special."
  • "One-way traffic" should read "One-way traffic recommended, but optional".
  • "No waiting" and "No stopping" should both have "unless you are driving a Mercedes, BMW or Audi and put on your hazard lights" added.
  • "Loose chippings" should read "Wheelspin zone".
  • "STOP" should read "GO".
  • "GO" should read "STOP".
  • "No vehicles carrying explosives" should read "WTF are you, a terrorist?"
  • "No U-turns" should read "U-turns permitted for German cars only".
  • "Steep hill downwards" should read "Step on it!"
  • "Steep hill upwards" should read "Step on it!"
  • "Cattle", "Wild animals" and "Wild horses or ponies" should all read "OMG AMINALS".
  • "Queues likely" should read "Queues guaranteed".
  • "Humps for 1 mile" should read "Innuendo ahead".
  • "Hump bridge" should read "Dogging hotspot ahead".
  • "Risk of ice" should read "You work it out".

Thank you for your understanding. An updated edition of the Code will be printed and released shortly.

#oneaday, Day 189: Keeping Score

I used to hate maths lessons when I was younger. I mean pure, unbridled hatred; we're talking full on teenage strops here. Not at school, obviously—that would be bad and wrong of course, and would have done enormous damage to my "he's a good kid" reputation, something which was only really damaged once when I punched a bully in the face in front of the headteacher (it was justified… well, not the headteacher bit)—but… what was I saying? Oh right, maths and strops. No, maths homework used to piss me off enormously. I never used to see the point of it. Particularly the more esoteric, abstract side of things. When was I ever going to need to measure a triangle? (I know, now.) When was I ever going to need to "solve" an algebraic equation with no numbers in it? (I'm still a little stumped on this one.) What the fuck is a logarithm? (I still don't know; that's one thing we never did at GCSE, and I gave up at A-level.)

But as much as anyone may hate maths, those little beasts, the numbers, creep into anything and everything we do. And sometimes they provide enormous amounts of entertainment.

Last night my soon-to-be-married friend Sam came by to drink some obscenely strong cider and play some video games. I casually suggested we try out Joe Danger on the PS3, as I'd downloaded it a while back and hadn't done much with it, and Sam likes those impossibly-difficult physics-based motorcycle games that are all over the Internet. So we did, fueled by aforementioned obscenely strong cider.

Very quickly, we discovered Joe Danger's appeal. Racking up ridiculous scores. Much like the Tony Hawk's series that once was, the joy in Joe Danger comes from stringing tricks together to get a huge score with a huge multiplier. Sam successfully managed to score about 3 million on one level and was justifiably pleased with this. Then I remembered something about the controls, and had a go at the same level. I scored 76 million. Sam was coming back from the kitchen with another bottle of cider while I was in the process of acquiring this score.

"What the— how did you do that?" he exclaimed.

I shared the secret. And thus began three hours of playing about four levels in Joe Danger in an attempt to beat the scores of my PSN friends—something we did admirably well, beating most of my nearest rivals by a factor of at least ten and, in one case, a factor of 100.

It brought back memories of the great Geometry Wars 2 conflicts of some time back… man, those were brutal.

Sam commented that he hadn't really held an appreciation for the value of game scores prior to that moment. Of course, they'd always been there, and they were always a good indicator of progress. But Joe Danger—something about the way you rack up points in that game is spectacularly and enormously satisfying. And addictive. We looked at the clock having thought we'd only been playing for a short while. And it was well after midnight. Okay, the obscenely strong cider may have helped with the time kompression somehow. But it's testament to the addictive quality of Joe Danger as a game that it kept us entertained and occupied—at many times, taking over 75 attempts at a level to do it without fucking something up—for a long time.

So, once you download Joe Danger, all I'm gonna say is "shoulder buttons". Enjoy.

#oneaday, Day 188: Compromise

Compromise is a tricky business. In some senses it's good. It shows a willingness to co-operate, to fit in, to be a part of society. But in others it means giving up part of who you are, usually in order to make someone else happy, or in order to fulfil the supposed "natural order of things".

The trouble with refusing to compromise, though, is that you end up locked into an endless cycle of pursuing the unattainable and then feeling bad when it remains, well, unattainable. The clue's in the title, dumbass. What makes you so special that you can attain the unattainable? You're not BBC iPlayer. Wait, that's something else, isn't it?

Anyway, whether it's a job or a relationship, unless you roll all natural 20s on every skill check you ever have to do (metaphorically speaking, of course) there's going to be some element of compromise there.

And in a way, I think that's a bit sad. Why should people have to give up on their dreams just because "society" (whoever THAT is) says it's "never going to happen"? Why should people settle for second-best? Why should people have to put up with annoyances for the sake of something or someone they really love?

Because those things and people are also hoping for perfection and failing to find it, of course. Everyone wants to meet that special someone, Prince Charming, Sleeping Beauty, Christina Hendricks, whoever. But does it ever really work like that? How often do two people find each other and they're perfect for one another? How often does someone step into a new job and think "Yes. This is LITERALLY my perfect job. There is nothing I would change about it whatsoever."?

Our individual happiness seems to be made or broken by other people, and it's a fragile thing. One little action, one thing said, one decision made; that can change everything. I know this only too well.

So what's the answer? Is there one? Right now, at this crossroads in my life, there are two things I want that would help everything just fall into place. One: a job where I get to do something I love for a fair wage and get appreciated for it by the people I work for—both employer and customer. Two: well, let's just say the term "nerd princess" would about cover it.

Is this too much to ask? Am I expecting too much? Do I put too much faith that all the good karma I have stored up over the course of the last 29 years will eventually lead to something awesome? I don't want to give up. I don't want to feel insignificant. I don't want to be alone.

And above all, I really don't want to compromise any more. As selfish as it sounds, I want to be happy. I want good things to happen. I want to meet someone awesome and nerdy and gorgeous and ride off into the sunset leaving the pain of the past behind.

I feel I have earned this. But is it just an impossible dream?

#oneaday, Day 187: Flying Solo

Ever been out on the town by yourself? It's generally a miserable experience, particularly if you're not the most sociable of people in the first place. And by that I mean the sort of person who doesn't generally talk to strangers at the best of times.

I've done it a couple of times, though not for a while. It generally goes something like this:

Step 1: Claustrophobia

You're in your house/flat/bedsit/hovel/cupboard. You have been stuck in said accommodation for some time now. By yourself. It's getting rather tiresome. Perhaps you're living by yourself. Or perhaps you live with people you don't get on with. Or perhaps you live with people who are never there. Whatever the reason, you're in by yourself, you're fed up and you feel like the walls are closing in a bit. So you decide that it would be a really great idea to go out. Even though none of your friends are free, because you only decided to go out a minute ago and when you texted them a minute ago, half of them didn't reply and the other half politely requested that you give them a bit more notice next time. So much for spontaneity.

Step 2: Confidence

You get dollied up and step out of your front door. You're going out! By yourself! Feels good, doesn't it? You're not tied to social conventions that require you to be in a group of at least 3 people (less than 3 and you're going "with" someone, which is perilously close to "date" territory)—you're doing things your way!

Step 3: Adventurousness

You're out by yourself and there's no-one with you to judge you. Perhaps you'll try something you've never done before, because there's no-one you know to mock you, laugh at you, berate you or tell you you're doing it wrong—or worse, do it better than you. Perhaps you decide to try smoking, because you've never done it before, or perhaps you talk to a random stranger in the street, or go down a road you've never been down before or—hell!—go to a pub or club you've never been to before.

Step 4: Arrival

You arrive at the place you decided to go to. You purchase yourself a drink and find yourself a good "spot" in which to observe the action. If this is a pub, this should be a table with a good view of everyone else who is there with their friends. Or possibly a stool at the bar, where you can turn your back on the rest of society. If this is a club, this should be a seat at the edge of the dance floor, where you can look longingly at the people who are probably having more fun than you.

Step 5: Realisation

"I've come out by myself. That was a really stupid thing to do."

Step 6: Depression

You stay in your spot, watching everyone around you actually having a good time—or so you believe, anyway; in actual fact they might be having a miserable time, just dancing while they do it—and slump into a bit of an alcohol-fueled depression.

Step 7: The Second Wind

You decide that no, you're not going to let this defeat you. You get up and maybe decide to try a dance by yourself.

Step 8: The Bad Idea

"That was a terrible idea. Now everyone is looking at me like I'm an idiot."

Step 9: Time To Go Home

"I hope the bouncers and the people on the door don't recognise me and realise I've only been here fifteen minutes."

Step 10: Regret

"That was the dumbest thing I've ever done. I'm never doing that again."

But you will. Just to see if it's any different next time.

#oneaday, Day 186: How To Laugh On The Internet

The acronym "LOL", originally short for "laughing out loud" has lost all meaning. This is entirely thanks to Internet denizens who believe it is an adequate substitute for any punctuation mark ever. It's true. Try it sometime. Don't forget to strip out all capital letters.

"Would you like to go to the shops?" becomes "would u like to go 2 the shops lol"

"I went to the shops to buy some butter, but they had run out." becomes "I went 2 the shops 2 buy sum butter lol but they had run out lol"

"Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this sun of York; / all the clouds that lour'd upon our house / In the deep bosom of the ocean buried." becomes "now is da winta of our discontent lol made golrius summer by dis sun of york lol all da clouds that lourd upon our house lol in da deep bosom of da ocean buried lol"

Ouch, that actually hurt.

Anyway, the fact is, "LOL" is meaningless. Coming up quickly behind it in the meaningless stakes are other acronyms such as "LMAO" and "PMSL". So I feel, Internet, it is time to educate you in the ways of laughter which uses more characters but is infinitely more expressive. You'll find there's a laugh for every occasion.

"Hehe"

Mild amusement. This can be used for something that was only intended to be a little bit funny, or perhaps something that you didn't find that funny yourself but don't want to offend the other person by not laughing at it. It's also less girly than some other alternatives. An optional trailing full stop may be added.

CORRECT USAGE: "I thought I'd forgotten my keys earlier. But they were in my pocket the whole time!" — "Hehe"

INCORRECT USAGE: "YARR HARR FIDDLEDEDEE, BEING A PIRATE IS ALL RIGHT TO BE! DO WHAT YOU WANT CAUSE A PIRATE IS FREE, YOU ARE A PIRATE!" — "Hehe"

"Heehee"

Flirtatious laughter. Perhaps someone has said something a little bit contentious or naughty and you want to giggle with them. "Heehee" is the perfect laugh for this purpose.

CORRECT USAGE: "Well, we went back to her house and then, well, I'm sure you can imagine what happened…" — "Heehee"

INCORRECT USAGE: "Lindsay Lohan is like a child with ADD! Neither of them can finish a sentence!" — "Heehee"

"Teehee"

The naughty laugh. An upgrade from "heehee", often used when slagging someone off behind their back, making illicit plans or making thinly-veiled references to something filthy the two of you—or indeed someone you mutually know—got up to recently.

CORRECT USAGE: "Well, last night certainly didn't suck… but someone sure did." — "Teehee"

INCORRECT USAGE: "The Master is rising! And soon the world will be ours!" — "Teehee"

"Haha(hahahahahahahahahahahahaha)"

The all-purpose "that's funny" laugh. The minimum number of "ha"s is two, otherwise it's a "Ha!" which is not a laugh at all, more a triumphant call of… something. The more "ha"s which are added to the end of the "haha", the funnier the thing is. "Haha" is mildly funny. "Hahahahahahahahahaha" is extremely funny. Optional additions may include all-caps or exclamation marks. These are both intensifiers.

CORRECT USAGE (mildly funny thing): "Knock knock." — "Who's there?" — "Doctor." — "Doctor who?" — "You just said it!" — "Haha"

CORRECT USAGE (exceedingly funny thing): "[insert most things that @DRUNKHULK says on Twitter]" — "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

INCORRECT USAGE: "Sir. The rebels have been crushed!" — "Haha"

"Mehehe(hehehehehe)"

The "mildly evil" laugh. Are you about to do something that's wrong, and you just don't care? Are you talking smack about someone? Have you made plans to do something which may cause mild embarrassment, discomfort or itching to a third party? Have you just witnessed something unfortunate occurring to someone you don't like much? Then this is the laugh for you. The number of "hehe"s on the end may again be varied. All-caps and exclamation marks are not usually added to an instance of a "mehehehehe".

CORRECT USAGE: "I'm going to invite them over, but then I won't answer the door!" — "Mehehehehe"

INCORRECT USAGE: "A man walks into a bar and says 'ouch!'" — "Mehehehehe"

"Mwahaha(hahahahaha)"

The "moderately evil" laugh. Are you about to do something very wrong? Or perhaps you're joking about doing something wrong that you'd never actually do but think would be quite entertaining, if evil, if you did? Have you successfully got one up on someone you moderately-to-extremely dislike? Then this is the laugh for you, complete with variable-length "hahahaha" on the end. All-caps and exclamation marks may be adopted for this laugh if appropriate, depending on the evility of the situation. However, in extremely evil situations, consider upgrading to "Muhahahahahaha!"

CORRECT USAGE: "And then I told her 'by the way, your skirt is TOTALLY tucked into your panties'. She looked mortified!" — "Mwahahahaha!"

INCORRECT USAGE: "Aww, look at that cute little kitten!" — "Mwahahaha!"

Not to be confused with "Mwah", which is blowing a kiss.

"Muhahahahahahaha!"

The "very evil" laugh. You are an evil overlord, emperor or other figure who strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies. You are either about to do something terribly evil, have just done something terribly evil or take delight revelling in your evil-ness. Whatever the reason, this laugh is part of your arsenal of verbal weapons with which you may strike fear into the aforementioned hearts of your aforementioned enemies, along with sentences such as "I am afraid it is YOU who are mistaken" and "No, Mr Protagonist, I expect you to die". All-caps and exclamation marks are frequently applied for intensification purposes.

CORRECT USAGE: "MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

INCORRECT USAGE: "Oh look, your baby cousin is smiling for the first time!" — "MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

DISCLAIMER: I am not aware of any legitimate historical evidence which quotes Hitler as saying "MUHAHAHAHAHA!" But I bet he did.

"Bahahahahaha!"

The belly laugh. This is a hearty chuckle at something you find genuinely amusing. The kind of laugh that Father Christmas or a Viking would use whilst sitting in front of a roaring log fire. Works well with a smoker's cough.

CORRECT USAGE: "I want a bicycle like in E.T. so I can follow you through the skies, Santa!" — "Bahahahahaha!"

INCORRECT USAGE: "That duck just fell over." — "Bahahahahaha!"

"Gahahahahahahaha!"

The Brian Blessed laugh. I don't think anything else needs to be said about this one. Usually combined with all-caps and exclamation marks.

CORRECT USAGE: "CRY HAVOC! AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR! GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

INCORRECT USAGE: "I posted a rude message on that forum." — "GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Kyahahahahaha!"

The witch's laugh. An evil cackle if ever there was one. Doesn't really work when men do it. Even evil wizards don't tend to go "kyahahahahaha".

CORRECT USAGE: "And now, my pretties, into the pot you go! Kyahahahahaha!"

INCORRECT USAGE: "Do you remember that time my pants fell down?" — "Kyahahahahaha!"

So as you can see, there is a laugh for pretty much any situation. I trust this will be the last time I ever see you using acronyms to represent laughter and/or punctuation.

Please feel free to share any additional variants you may be aware of in the comments.

#oneaday, Day 185: Help Wanted

I've discussed this matter at great length before but goddammit it's my blog and I'll say whatever the hell I want to, assuming my Silent Hill-inspired dream/daydream/fiction/symbolism yesterday didn't terrify you to your very core. So shut it!

Wait, you didn't say anything. There was really no need to be rude and defensive. I'm sorry! Come back! Please?

Thanks. And I didn't like the other people anyway. They think they're all that. And a bag of chips. Whatever that means.

Right. I was going to say something, wasn't I? Yes. Here it is.

I present to you a selection of what you'd get if job adverts were actually honest, based on some past experiences.

Drink Receptacle and Emesis Technician

Are you a talented, motivated self-starter? Well stop right there! This isn't the job for you. You'll be working in a busy environment that's full of people who don't want to give you the time of day unless you're bringing them something they asked for. Yet your role will be considered essential to the smooth running of the establishment thanks to the fact that without glasses, no-one will be able to drink until they puke.

Key competencies for the role must include the ability to pick up a glass without dropping it, the ability to stack glasses without dropping them and the ability to operate an almost totally-automatic dishwasher. Must also not be averse to the idea of cleaning up sick with a mop.

Food Frying Specialist

Do you like food? Do you have ambitions of becoming a top chef in a fancy London restaurant? Well, everyone has to start somewhere! In this lively, exciting position you'll be paired up with an actual chef who thinks you are complete scum and is more than happy to tell you so on a regular basis. You'll be in charge of making starters for a busy pub. But don't be afraid; pretty much every starter is created by deep-frying things! That's right! Your love of boiling things in oil can finally be put to a practical use for the good of society. Doesn't it feel great to know that?

The ideal candidate for this position will know that when things turn black they've been in for too long, will be able to produce a prawn cocktail using the very cheapest and worst possible ingredients and will also be aware that mixing tomato ketchup and mayonnaise is an adequate substitute when all the seafood sauce has run out. Must also not be averse to occasionally having their hat filled with apple sauce, gravy and/or jam.

Important Document Consultant

Do you know where the "Print" function in Microsoft Word is? Perhaps you even know what the shortcut key is! You'll be in charge of receiving emails from other members of this busy office who are too lazy to print things for themselves. Your task will be justified under the name of "top copying", which still means "print", don't worry. And don't worry about proofreading; these people are professionals! Any mistakes they made are entirely intentional and are probably the fault of the audio typists anyway. Those bastards.

The perfect person for this position must have an exceedingly high boredom threshold and must not carry any sharp objects with which they might be able to slit their own wrists. They must also have a sense of self-esteem so low that they don't mind doing something which clearly the person who wrote the document in the first place would be able to do. They must also not be easily susceptible to papercuts, eyestrain, backache, flatulence, dysentry, gangrene or AIDS.

Classroom Shouting Representative

Do you like children? You won't once you're finished with us! Have you long been frustrated that too much knowledge is imparted in classrooms? Then come and show us how it's really done! We'll put you into a classroom full of 9-year olds who act like they're stroppy teenagers! We won't tell you anything about the colourful backgrounds that their families have! We'll let you get threatened by parents who believe that their way, not the way of polite society, is the way to go! Polite society is boring, anyway!

Key competencies for this role include low self-esteem, a low threshold for irritation, a loud shouting voice and the desire to not actually pass any knowledge on at all! Even if there are maybe one or two kids who obviously want to learn something! No. Working in a classroom is about bad behaviour!

#oneaday, Day 184: Dark World

[The following is part dream I had, part daydream, part complete fiction and part external influences. You may make of it what you will. Up to and including a fetching hat.]

The fog was out of season, and even thicker than it would have been at the right time of year for it. And it was cold. Very cold. Colder than he remembered it being for a long time. He wasn't sure how long it had been cold and foggy, but it had certainly been for the whole day. And that seemed to mean that everyone was staying inside, since there was not a soul on the street.

He reached the shop and walked in. All was silent inside. The lights flickered slightly, and the buzzing of the fluorescent tubes suddenly seemed very loud. There was no-one here either; no sign of the usual student rabble laughing, joking and buying beer. No sign of the shop staff behind the counter. Nothing. Yet apart from this, the neatly-stacked shelves looked just as they always did. But there was something wrong, something sinister about the whole thing.

He walked over to the coffee machine, pulled out a cup and placed it under the nozzle before jamming his thumb onto the "large latté" button. The machine whirred, ground and made that curious sucking noise as the milk and coffee poured into the cup. It seemed very loud amidst the silence in the rest of the shop. Then it was quiet, and the cup was full. He pulled out one of the flimsy plastic lids from the dispensers and set it atop the cup.

He fumbled in his pocket for some loose change and left it on the counter. Just because there was no-one here was no reason to take advantage. He wasn't that sort of person.

Something was wrong. The lights were flickering more, and the buzzing was getting louder. Suddenly, they went off entirely, and the shop was plunged into darkness. Loud, metallic scraping sounds filled his ears and he didn't know what was happening. It shouldn't be dark; it was still light outside, despite the fog. He tripped and fell in the darkness, somehow managing to hold on to his coffee cup. The ground began to shake, and he fell again trying to get back on his feet. This time, he dropped the cup. The tremors became stronger and stronger; it felt like the ground was somehow shifting beneath him, changing, becoming… metallic?

A small light flicked on above the counter.

The floor was cold, and where there once were simple tiles was now covered in metallic grates, darkness beneath them.

He scrambled to his feet, not wanting to stay here any longer than necessary. Outside, the fog was gone, but it was dark now. There was little light by which to see, so he pulled out his phone and used the bright light from the screen to see his way. The street seemed to be covered with the same curious gratings, the soles of his shoes clanging on them as he walked.

In the distance, in the darkness, he could see his building. He needed to get there, to be home, to be safe, to be inside. He didn't like the feeling that this strange new environment was giving him. He quicked his pace to a light jog and headed towards the building, up the stairs to the front door. He punched in the door code and opened the door.

Inside, like outside, all was darkness. The small pool of light from his phone was just enough to see by, but it didn't make him feel any better. He opened the door leading into the corridor that held his apartment and stepped into the blackness. He walked forward down the corridor, stopping and turning where he thought his door should be, but there was nothing there, and the corridor continued into the darkness. He couldn't see the end of it.

He turned to face the corridor, stretching into the distance, took a deep breath, swallowed, and continued to walk down it. As he continued down the seemingly endless passageway, the only sound were his footsteps echoing on the metallic floor.

He wasn't sure how long he walked for, but he was starting to get out of breath after a while. That's when he heard the sounds. A mechanical sound of some sort, though he couldn't tell what. He walked towards it and it slowly, gradually, got louder.

A voice whispered in his ear and he gave a start, almost falling over with the shock. He didn't hear what the voice said, but it sounded familiar. Then the other ear, again, something said, not meant to be heard. The machinery growing louder and louder, the whispering voices growing more urgent. And now it felt like the corridor was sloping downwards. Just a little at first, but the further he went and the closer the sound became, the more it sloped and sloped until he thought he was going to slide down it and then—

The corridor came to an abrupt end along with the sounds, and he almost walked into his neighbour's door in the darkness. He turned to face his own apartment, drew out his key from his pocket and hesitantly slid it into the lock. Pushing open the door slowly, cautiously, he shone the light from his phone into the black hallway, a sense of dread gripping him from inside, tightening every organ in his body, making him feel coiled like a spring.

The light bounced off a metallic object that was sitting on the side in the hallway. He walked over to it to see what it was.

A cook's knife. Clean, shining in the light and sharp as a razor. He picked it up, not certain what he'd use it for. And he walked slowly towards the bedroom, figuring that if the world was going to do a passable impression of night-time, he might as well try and get some sleep.

The door creaked open as he pushed it, but suddenly he was wrenched through it, the wind knocked out of him as he fell to the ground, still gripping the knife in his hand, his phone skittering across the floor, face up, its light shining around the small room.

Then the sound. That terrible sound. Like a scream, but not of pain or terror. It sounded like rage. It was formidable and terrible, and it was somewhere in this room.

He looked up at the pool of light on the ceiling. That's when he saw it. Its skin glistening as the light reflected off it, it screamed again as it knew it had been spotted.

He gasped, and his breathing quickened. This was—

The thing let out a horrifying screech again and something glass shattered. A window? A mirror? He couldn't tell, because he couldn't see. But he knew what had to be done. Brandishing the knife in a shaking hand, he walked towards where he had seen it hanging and looked up again. A tendril, like a thick piece of rope, hung from the ceiling. He raised the knife over his head and brought it down in a smooth arc, slashing through the tendril and slicing it clean in two. The part which had been stuck to the ceiling fell to the ground with a wet slapping noise, and there was another terrible scream.

His head hurt. His vision, what little he could see, felt hazy. This was difficult. It wasn't as easy as he thought. But he had to—

The thing roared and lunged at him, but he staggered to one side at just the right moment, placing him right beneath another hanging tendril. Gritting his teeth and raising the knife, he cut through this one too. This time, images flashed across his eyes. Memories? He wasn't sure, because they were gone as soon as he could focus on them. And still it was there, howling in pain now, writhing, yet still trapped. It lunged again and pushed him to the floor, knocking the wind out of him and the knife clattering across the floor. He dove towards where he thought it fell, gasping to recover his breath, and fumbled around until he felt its handle. Unsteadily, he picked himself up and got to his feet. His head was hurting now, like a migraine but worse. Instead of flashing lights across his vision, there were images, but they were still too elusive to grasp hold of. He recognised them, loved them and feared them at the same time, and he knew that there was only one way to—

With a yell, he leapt at the thing, knife raised aloft and slashed through the fourth and final tendril. With an awful screech, it fell to the ground, helpless against what was to come.

He stood above it, looking down at this pitiful thing that could engender such fear, hatred and anger. There was only one thing left, and that would be it. That would be the end. That would be—

He knelt before it, glowering at it, eyes narrowed, teeth grinding. He looked at the knife in his hand, now stained with blood and ichor, and then back to the thing again. This would be the last—

He plunged the knife deep into it and the horrific noise that ensued made the ground shake. But he pulled out the knife and plunged it in again, the tremors becoming more and more forceful, the screech becoming more and more deafening. He could hear walls cracking, collapsing, falling around him. He hoped it would be enough time to—

With the final thrust of the knife, there was a blinding white light, a sense of sudden, incredible, release like every trace of tension leaving his body; and there was a sound, a sound like a rising wind, louder and louder and stronger and filling his ears with noise and sound and it was too much and—

Then sudden, awful, total silence. Nothingness. The white light enveloped everything. Made it impossible to see. But it was—

She stood by the door to the apartment, not sure whether or not to go in. She stared at that number on the door, the number which for so long had meant "home" but was now just another meaningless digit. She looked at the lock, and at the key in her hand.

The key slid smoothly into the lock and she pushed open the door. Inside, all was quiet. The lights were off, the curtains were open and there were no signs of life. She walked ahead into the bedroom. Bare. Nothing but a bed. No sheets, no pillows, nothing. Back into the corridor; nothing here. The closets: empty. The study: nothing to see.

Panicking now, her heart racing, she ran to the living room. Nothing here besides the table, the sofa and the chairs. The things that had always been here, but nothing that meant—

Then she saw it. A folded piece of paper on the table, sitting by itself, alone.

She took it, unfolded it, read it.

Then she stuffed it into her pocket, turned and fled.