Sunday, 17 November 2013

"BECAUSE YOU'RE PATHETIC!" #24

You know what moment when the elephant in the room suddenly becomes addressed?

Like in episode one, season two of How I Met Your Mother. Marshall and Lily had broken up, Marshall plans to go down to the hotel room she's "staying" in (If you've not been watching it, its 7 years old! Where have you been?!) and Ted (Voiced by Bob Saget) says "56 days. That's how long it took me to get right about here: BECAUSE YOU'RE PATHETIC!"

Marshall shoots Ted the most disgusted look (Great acting by Jason Segel and Josh Radnor), Ted immediately lays the score down to Marshall.

I lost count of the number of times I've watched it and each time, it still hits me like a truck.

I've never lost Alyson Hannigan, but it just reminds me of the kind of spineless jellyfish I become after every blown relationship.

...

I shouldn't feel like this.

I can feel however I want to feel.

Should is a bad word where feelings are concerned.

I just...

I have nothing. Not nothing nothing but...

I'm jobless. Absolutely zip in terms of career prospects. I also have less than nothing when it comes to relationship prospects.

...

Why can't I just be fucking happy?

Thursday, 10 October 2013

Without a Title #22

It's really been that long since I posted... August 11th? Good lord!

Well, thanks to my new meds the weight lost hasn't gone quite as planned.

It's actually going fucking backwards and I've put on a stone.

This in and of itself has been enough to get me feeling pretty shitty recently (as you can imagine) and I am left at a loose end as to what exactly to do about it (apart from the unhelpful option of eating more) Still, in that sense it is at least my own doing. After all, one cannot get fat if one doesn't put food into ones mouth.

Sede Vacante has passed so I can now no longer use that as an excuse for not doing stuff...

I'm left asking, quite simply:

Where has my drive for things gone? 

I have moments where I flare into life, then as quickly as the drive flares up, it is extinguished.

(Why, why, WHY has iTunes decided to play a Christmas song?)

This then brings me to my next worry; the Xmas party.

Readers of my blog may recall a wedding a year or so back, (probably linked to my feelings of her and that girl) And said couple are now expecting a human-baby-child.

Looking down the Facebook guest list reads like a very depressing story for a singleton.

Married couple. Couple. Couple. Couple. Couple. Couple.

Only one other single person on the list.

I don't fear a matchmaking;  I fear a general questioning of my obviously declining social standing (as nightly high as ever it was)

Part of me wants to go. The part I should probably listen to. The part of me that can accept being the last one jobless/single/still at home. He'll probably have an amazing time seeing old friends and meeting the new ones brought into the group.

Ha. The Group. The collective of 6 friends; three awkward boys from one school, three slightly less awkward girls from a different one, joined by some strange and contrived reason.

The Group now consists of (mostly) co-habiting couples, talking couple things like house prices.

(At this point it should be noted; I had planned to talk more at length about what has gone on, but the mood fled like a morning lover and I was left in the bed, sheets soiled and regrets left unspoken. I find the growing and tiresome inevitability of my situation too much to run from sometimes. Sometimes I think it may be easier if I just stand still and allow the beast to tackle me, savagely pull me down and tear into the remnants of my soul. Who knows. Maybe there is in fact, nothing wrong with me, and I am forever stuck to repeat the same fucked up loop of life.)

A quick post #23

With the 12 or so remaining minutes of battery life left on this laptop--

...

0:09 minutes as I am now reliably informed.

I have just had a moment.

"That's not unusual." I head you say, in your bold-type.

0:08.

Yes, it is.

0:07.

I've never placed myself as 'normal.' Normal doesn't exist in my mind, both as a regular and mentally ill person. Normal means as much to me as 'nice.' (I will elaborate on 'nice' at a later date.)

0:06.

Okay, so.

I'm wrestling in my head with this self-obsessed, whingy, asinine and nonsensical conflict over (What else) a woman.

0:05 (Yes computer I know don't fucking count down!)

We knew each other once, a while ago, about the time I was dating The Ex. 

0:04.

0:03.

So, I asked myself "What am I scared of?" (Well, I asked 'what are YOU scared of?' but...)

I thought to myself "Maybe it'll be good for me. She's nouveau Bohemian,  maybe I need to get back to my artistic roots.

Then I asked...

Am I too old to be Bohemian?

(Computer dies)

Sunday, 11 August 2013

Happy New Year! #21

Well, there is 7 3 minutes left of my current 'Epochs' I am now referring to as "years" (edit: by the time I found the word I wanted to use instead of Epoch was not a word, it was 4 minutes past!)

So, in preparation for tomorrows 'Video for a year's time to myself', here is the vital stats for the 8th Age of Nick...

I am Nick. I am currently 25 years old. I weigh 13st 2lb 2oz. I am 5' 7" tall. I suffer from several medical conditions, including but to limited to; scoliosis, depression and, if my BMI is to be believed, I am overweight.

August 12th 2013 is the dawn of this new age, the 8th Age of Nick. Not currently available to the public, this software patch will contain the following changes;

1. Dietary alterations.
2. Exercise that is consistent and challenging.
3. A general and completely natural boosting in self-confidence and energy levels.
4. Character skills inclusions such as martial arts.
5. The removal of inappropriate and unhelpful medicine.
6. The possibility of getting more sleep.

Alpha testing begins august 12th to November 12th.
Challenge: to lose 1 stone in weight OR 2" from my waist.

More news on November 12th.

Sunday, 28 July 2013

Sunday Sermon #20

Okay. So it's been a while since I've posted up here.

Aaaand on Friday night, I had my first major panic attack.

I Can still feel the knots twisting in my insides, the muscles in my back contracting and I'm still desperate to let out the howl of pain and anger trapped in my chest.

I thought I had a grip on my mental health, and then my sanity slips on me like that.

Tuesday, 9 July 2013

Wednesday Wambling... (Yes, I know, it's lame...) #19

Holy shit, guys! July already?!

Who's got 2013 stuck on Fast Forward?!

So, one of the most AMAZING weekends EVER has come to an end... Curious Yellow Weekend 2013.

First Festival Gig - Check.

Two Gigs in One Day - Check.

Three (Well, two and a half) Awesome Recording Sessions - Check.

So, why the fuck am I now feeling like shit (besides the overdose of pizza and beers) ?

... My life is not bad, you guys!

I've had one of the best weekends I could ever hope to have and yet... I feel flat.

What's wrong with me?!

I've thought at times I should give up on this...

Maybe this is the sign...

Who knows.

Sunday, 23 June 2013

The Sunday Switch #18

Also henceforth known as The Reversal of Fortune.

So, on Saturday, after a particularly long spell of confinement, and a slight attack of cabin fever (The psuedo-psychological condition, not the film, though that was a pretty shitty film) I decided to amble to town to sell some video games I no longer played.

Side-step to last August - After a particularly messy argument with my ex, which ended when she began ignoring me, I decided to go on what I called a life spree, doing things that made me feel awesome and alive, determined to not let her bring me down again. This included new clothes, recording an album, a friends wedding and This Girl. Ah, This Girl... This Girl is the name given to a girl I had seen several times on my local bus but had never had the balls to talk to at the time. Having found out a few weeks before hand that she and I shared a mutual friend, I took it upon myself to add This Girl on Facebook, with the intention to get to know her etc etc. We got talking, met up for a drink and ended it the next morning at breakfast. We then had a clunky few weeks talking before she left town.

Back to Saturday...
So, This Girl gets on my bus. With a pushchair. With a child in it. A young child, possibly a month or so old. With very dark hair. I myself am dark haired (as you may or may not know) and, given the length of time between intimate encounter and now, the alarm bells went off...

The air evaporates from my lungs. My mouth resembles the Sahara. My heart decides it wants to join Dragonforce as a drummer and raises it's speed. She sees me and waves. She sits down with me and we talk. My tensions are put to rest when she tells me its her sisters n-th baby (2nd or 3rd, I wasn't really paying attention at that moment!) and I relax as we chat. We talk about the time that's passed since our brief encounter, what we've been upto and so forth. We arrive in the bus station in the town centre and continue chatting, gradually getting to making our goodbyes once again.

I'm not entirely sure if it was serendipity *looks up the actual meaning... Yes, it could have been* or whether it was just Karma sitting on my side of the poker table having gone all in with a Full House against a pair of Jacks, but at the moment that we embraced, I saw The Ex. She saw me and, not for the first time this year, seemed to go a funny shade of off-white and green, especially as I was in the embrace of a very attractive young lady, who was holding a pushchair in her free hand. This Girl turns and recognises The Ex, and proceeds to plant a kiss on my lips.

The moment then becomes as sweet as a honey glazed jam doughnut, sprinkled with chocolate powder, sugar and topped with sprinkles.

The Ex glares at me with a look that could sour vodka (Yes, you read it right) and adds a shade of red to her cheeks. She gives the same look to This Girl and the pushchair, clearly adding 2+2+2 in her head and possibly making 6 (or 222 in this case) and speeds up her pace, veritably marching past with a look somewhere between anger and incredulity. Me and This Girl simply smiled at each other, embraced again, said a proper goodbye and went our separate ways.

Flash-forward to Saturday night, and a dream involving This Girl and myself. This time, however, the child is mine, and I'm left with a crippling fear of the future and similarly incredulous feelings as to the day's events.

So this morning, I woke up feeling bad inside, like I had actually been the father of the child, and then had rejected the idea. So yes, if it was Karma dealing a Full House yesterday, it would seem the scales have been reset. Well played, Karma.

Next time though; Don't fill me with doubt.

Thursday, 20 June 2013

"When I leave CSI, there won't be any cake in the breakroom. I'll just be gone." - Gil Grissom #17

Given the nature of yesterday, this line has been rattling round in my head.

Not in the kind of mortality way my late dad's birthday might have inspired, but generally.

Tomorrow (Or tonight, depending on how you look at a day) is a joint birthday party for a pair of good friends of mine...

Or are they?

That's really the question here; when does a best friend become a good friend, and a good friend a friend, and a friend an acquaintance?

I've known one of these two since we were at school, and granted we never always saw eye-to-eye (I always thought he was the dorkiest of the dorks because he knew a lot about computers, and he probably saw me as a thick fuck but whatever) but since we left that place, he's grown into a decent guy and, for the longest time, was a damned good friend. In recent years he's moved house, got married and is now living the life of a grown up young adult (both of which I refrain from calling myself) and I can't help but feel that he sees me as a bit of a loser. He's well within his rights to, after all.

The other, I've not known quite as long; she was the object of a friends desires on and off for about three or four years, and it's by her design (almost) that the former and his wife met. Since we first met, she too has grown up and, while she may either not admit it or hide it well, also probably sees me as a bit of a loser.

Yes, yes, I know. It's paranoia talking!

This isn't my issue.

My issue is this.

I've spoken to one of them once since November.

She was on hand recently after it turned out my depression may not be depression, but he wasn't.

And not for the first time in my life, I found myself thinking; Will anyone miss me if I leave?

Again, that's paranoia talking and I know some people will miss me (before you, yes you, you know who you are rush to tell me) but really, am I that bothered if my old friends don't notice?

Obviously, I am. I'm writing a blog at 1am BST discussing the fact of leaving.

It's got me thinking though.

When the time comes for me to me to leave, be it this house, a future job or even the town/country I'm currently living in, how do I want to leave?

Quietly, is my answer. It's not my usual style, granted. I don't want parties and cards and cake. The day before I leave, or maybe even the day I leave, I will make my goodbyes to those that matter. I'll metaphorically turn up my coat collar, pull down the brim of my hat and be carried off by the next strong breeze. Maybe I'm a fish destined to outgrow every pond I find myself in, or maybe I've got to keep on moving to find my perfect pond. I'm fast outgrowing this pond I'm in though, that much is clear. Trouble is, I don't know where the next pond is. I don't know if it's big enough for me, whether its full of weeds or predators, or even if it has a little pearl in it that's just right for me. 

I think one day soon it may be time to snap some deadweight weeds from around myself, and take the leap out of the water.

N.

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Tuesday Typeset #16

So, it's my first Blog of June - Shock Horror!

Currently listening to 'Journey of the Sorcerer' by The Eagles (Bonus points for anyone who knows the alternative name of this Opus!)

I honestly can't work out how or why I've been this last 18 days... So many little ups and downs it's almost impossible to track them all...

The weekend in Cambridge went really well - Lots of recording done, some great food and ale were sampled, a fantastic gig was played and many laughs were had being beaten at Monty Python Fluxx.

This is the second incarnation of Fluxx I've played and I have to say I love the game IMMENSELY! Looney Labs have done an amazing job and I can't wait to play other incarnations, both present and future!

The plan for today? Wait for a phone call, and probably tidy and sort my books (of which there are many!)

Until next time!

N.

(I also think I've fallen in love... Shit.)

Friday, 31 May 2013

The Chronicles of Cpt. Lokhir Fellheart, Captain of the Dark Elves Black Ark "The Tower of Blessed Dread"#15

So, as I mentioned a few months ago; I have a large and ever-expanding collection of wargaming miniatures.

Having found myself with more time recently to build, paint etc., I broke out an army that had long been sat in varied states of building - My Dark Elves.

My initial experience of Dark Elves came after seeing the miniature for Lokhir Fellheart, the daring and downright scary sea captain. I bought this guy and picked up some other models to go with him. The collection then got shelved in order to do other projects.

Recently, with the release of a new High Elves army book, I thought it would be fun to get the old guys out and flex their muscles for the first time. A guy down the local GW had just got some new High Elves, so we decided to have a game.

"Gather round, me hearties, gather round, an' I'll tell ye a tale of an Elf captain so daring and dangerous, ye will all think twice about settin' foot on a boat again!
Cap'n Fellheart is the scariest of the Black Ark Cap'ns, 'n' that's sayin' summat, alright! After slaughterin' the priests of Gilgadresh, forgin' the dreaded Red Blades 'n' finding the Helm of the Kraken, he set about raidin' coastal towns of Ulthuan for the simple pleasure of killin' elves. It was just so in 2513 when Fellheart and his corsairs landed on the shores of a small town in Tiranoc that was defended by Caradryan. After the initial loss of his cavalry, Fellheart took the fight directly to Caradryan, mortally wounding the captain of the Phoenix Guard and slaughtered all the remaining Phoenix Guard in a frenzy. Fellheart was bested in single combat by a captain of the Sea Guard, but the corsairs of the Tower of Blessed Dread won out in the end, capturing the last of the Sea Guard and a powerful High Elf mage, whom Fellheart took great pleasure in torturing when they returned to the Ark. 
So be wary; if you ever see the mists rollin' in, and think you spy a tower in the distance, you run. You run as fast as your legs can carry you further inland. Don't look back, and don't stop runnin'..."

That's pretty much how the game went.

Tuesday, 28 May 2013

The Trouble With Tuesday #14

So, it's been so long since I posted a blog...

Where to begin... 'Today?' Good idea, Brain.

Today sucked ass. My shoulder was cricked when I woke up, I whacked my manhood with a mobile phone when I decided to bury myself in the covers, then to top it all off, my day was wasted by not being able to get to where I wanted to go thanks to a fantastic (!) public transport system!

I can't stop thinking about her! Damn it!


Thursday, 25 April 2013

A Thought for Thursday #13

Has it really been that long since my last post? Shit.

Well I think I've got a handle on my mood again, which is good.

I think I've reached a 90º corner recently, but a good one.

There was going to be more to this post, but whatever.

Talk to you soon.

Monday, 15 April 2013

Monday Mumble #12

So, I think this will be more ramble than mumble, but fuck it.

I can tell that I have slipped into the realm between realms today.

Be that my own doing, or the doing of other people is difficult to tell.

I'm back to existing, not living.

I'm stuck on repeat.

It would be easy to blame the people left in my life, but I'm as much to blame.

The difference is, I can't help feeling this way.

I have really productive periods and then my scumbag brain says, "Oh, hey, 'productivity'? Can't have too much of this shit. Better throw you a 'depression' curveball to balance your day. Don't want you thinking you're actually getting better!"

So yes, I've retreated away from the idiot-grenades, the non-thinker-machine-guns and the induction-of-suicide-troops. I'm laid on the floor of the trench, in a puddle of stagnant rainwater and my own urine, covered in the mud of my depression, crying from the shell shock, praying for mercy but simultaneously hoping that the end will come quick if it has to come at all. Soon, the assault will stop and I will regain my footing, stand up, and take up arms to defend myself.

For now I'm content to lie here and wait for the end.

Sunday, 14 April 2013

Sunday Service #11

So, this will be a short blog, as I feel that I should update my readers, but won't spend ages labouring the points in it.

The family cat of 13 years passed away on Saturday, much to everyone's shock. Loopy as she was, being abandoned as a kitten, she survived the stress of the loss of a family member a lot of years ago and moving house twice. Mum has already decided she doesn't want to get another cat (I'm taking bets on how long this will last) and I did consider getting myself a puppy when something happened to her, but honestly, I don't think I could bring myself to get another pet anyway.

This weekend has also found a lot of my closest friends upset or annoyed, and I've become annoyed for them as well.

Lets hope tomorrow's meeting re: the recording studio goes well.

N.

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Tuesday Tattle #10 (Tuesday Triumph!)

Haha, fooled you!

Well, I still have yet to receive any letter re: my psychological evaluation / mental health, but other than that...

(I also don't know a positive word beginning with T...

*goes to Google...

Triumphant? Sod it, Triumph!)

Tuesday Triumph!*

Easter weekend saw the visit of my grandmother from the North (as I may have mentioned in my last blog ... *checks checks while listening to the police sirens that are close by and out of phase... * No, I didn't) and the weekend was nicely wrapped up by a party for my step-grandmother who is doing a damned good impression of a woman who is going to live forever...

The three remaining days saw me go a little insane trying to figure out exactly what to pack, an affliction I was thankfully relieved of by my best friend (you know who you are :D)

Friday arrived with excitement and glee (the emotion, not the TV Show) only to find my train cancelled! A quick stop in the first class lounge (Oh yeah baby!) and a seven minute delay (oh the horror!) and I was back on track - to find I was now riding the same train as my ex girlfriend, her new boyfriend, her sister and her sister's fiancé. The ex and her toyboy had no idea where to look when I mentioned I was travelling "... First Class to Cambridge to play some gigs... Getting paid £80 per gig..." Somethings are just so sweet you want to eat them, no? It's also very satisfying to be given a free bacon sandwich, a cup of tea and free WiFi.

Friday night's gig (while rehearsal time was short) went amazingly well, and we did celebrate accordingly (would you not agree?)

Saturday was what I have come to expect in Cambridge - Filled with geekdom! Forbidden Planet, Games Workshop and Inner Sanctum! Another night of celebratory ale and several very fun rounds of Zombie (Drinking) Dice!

Sunday was more practicing, and the discovery of a new love - Stilton on burgers!

Sunday night's gig also went amazingly well! I managed to line up some potential new work, and, apparently, I played another awesome set! I must remember to work with my friends more often; sharing the stage is so much more fun that way.

Monday was a little sad as I had to leave the lovely city behind, but I am in no doubt I shall see her again soon!

I recently said to a friend that 2013 appears to be "The Year of The Geek" a parody of the Chinese New Year Zodiac, but it would appear to be incredibly true - Already I have begun a program of discontinuation of this obnoxious medication, the advent of self employment, a huge creative boost and the future prospects of a full degree! I am also incredibly privileged to have met many great people so far this year, and while it has also seen some older acquaintances slip off the edges of the 'disc, those that have gone have been of little use in the New Order. 

So, my dear readers, as I appear to have some regulars, as well as hopefully gathering new ones, I shall bid you au revoir until next time!

Saturday, 30 March 2013

Saturday Scratchings #9

So... A whole week without a Blog post - Bet you'd all wondered where I'd gone... No? Nevermind.

"So... What's been happening?" I hear you ask...

Not a lot worth talking about really... Nothing of any major interest (save for a few hobby items which I will discuss at a later date) and the next week will more than likely be spent preparing for the 4 day weekend I'm having in Cambridge.

Lots of music, geekery, ale, fun times, analysation of Firefly, DVD marathons... All this in a long weekend.

Yes, it can be done. Yes, it will be done.

I just hope the next 6 days pass swiftly but with purpose.

Sunday, 24 March 2013

Sunday Scribble #8

So... Sunday.

Snow on the ground.

Someone's house alarm blaring away (probably due to the high winds - this is the 2nd/3rd time in 12 hours)

*turns on iTunes to counter the sirensong*

Ah, The Bad Shepherds.

I've recently taken steps to start being weaned off the antidepressants I've been taking since July last year. Hopefully this attempt will go better than the last one, where my former GP told me to "Skip taking 1 every other day" which lead to very erratic sleep patterns and nightmares.

I thought I had a withdrawal headache yesterday, but reports of "wanting to die to stop the pain" are apparently over-exaggerated.

"Discontinuation" is causing a very dry mouth, and also, causing reality to become slightly frayed at the edges - I feel as though I am moving a lot slower than I actually am. This is going to be due to the 37.5mg drop of Effexor taking effect in my bloodstream.

Perhaps a song needs to be written re: discontinuing... Who knows.

Finally got an appointment to go and talk about setting up the recording job / record label.

Pleasantly surprised at my recent impetus to paint (and paint well it has to be added) - Considering offering commission works if I can find some people wanting armies painted to a good quality (this would also involve my armies being finished so... Who knows about that too haha!)

Doing my best to NOT play Silly Buggers, and hopefully, sticking to it.

Currently also coming to a better understanding of myself as a person. The more I understand of Objectivist philosophy, the more I come to regard it as "The Absolute Truth" I will carry forward with me. 
As such, and thanks to having plenty of time to think recently, I've decided to organise humanity (including those closest to me) as 'looters' and 'producers'.

The 'looters' out there are all out to benefit from the work of the producers (It's essentially the principle Communism is based on - Each contributes as per his skill, but each takes as per his need.) 
The looters of this world do not contribute equal to their own needs. 
The looter will take advantage of a person when that person is in a position to be taken advantage of.
Once the looter has taken what he or she needs from any given victim, they will leave, then blaming the victim for having no more to give, be that money, time, resources etc. 
The looter will demand more of the producer than he will demand of himself. 
This way of living is ultimately flawed as the looters will eventually run out of victims, and will be unable to sustain themselves any longer. To the looters, I say this: You will not take from me without offering in return. I am not yours to bleed as you see fit.

The 'producers' of this world are the ones who will go out and give to the world around them, be that time, money, resources etc. 
A producer understands what it is to stand on their own, to take their own grasp of life, and to reach for something besides a hand-out. 
A producer, through moral fibre, altruism or sheer bloodymindedness to give more to the world than they themselves receive, understands the vulnerability of the human soul.
A producer will not ask for aid or favour from any other person; the producer will always offer a trade in it's place. 
While I may not always agree with the producers altruism to feed those too idle to feed themselves, I say this: You are my brothers and my sisters. I will co-opt from you as you co-opt from me; freely, honestly, and without the need for begging.

And to the few friends who read this: Consider carefully which sort of friend you may be. Some of you will know instinctively; many of you will not. Some of you will care; many of you will not. Some of you may even consider calling me out on what I define you as; most of you will not. 

But to those few brave enough to ask what I think of you, I admire your courage. By your actions will you know your answer.
As to the rest of you, in lacking in action, you too will know your answer.

Wednesday, 20 March 2013

Wednesday Waffle #7

"Nick, this is you speaking.

Yes, I know, it's insane to talk to yourself as comprehensively as this.

I'm that strange, unused place in your brain.

The bit you would normally use for rational thought.

You remember me, right?

...

There's the realisation!

Listen to me, Nick, and listen good.

You're starting to slip back into 'Silly Bastard' mode again.

I will NOT accept that. Do NOT back-slide, you dumb oaf!

Before you now do or say anything:

Stop.

Focus.

Think.

Now, I'm off to play with the Circadian Rhythm controls again. Toodle-oo!"


Refer me back to this as often as it takes for the message to sink in, please. (Yes, I mean you. You know who you are, the one person who reads my blog...)

Tuesday, 19 March 2013

Tuesday Twaddle (Cont'd) #6

So yes, after a rather surprising day, in which I secured a phone call tomorrow (Wednesday 20th) about getting my record label / mobile recording studio started...

Here I sit.

Feeling like 2lbs of shite in a 1lb bag.

Seriously, whats wrong with me...

Oh, yeah. That's right.

Some people are able to not live their life with their emotions stapled to their skin.

They don't have to fight off every urge imaginable to punch themselves so hard in the face they simultaneously fracture their own knuckles and cheekbones.

I really wish I didn't always have to wear my heart on the outside, but I've never known any different.

So... Yeah.

Monday, 18 March 2013

Monday Moan / Tuesday Twaddle #5

Technically, it is Tuesday, but my brain is still in Monday.

Tonight's tune of choice: 'Black Velvet' - Alannah Myles (No, Blogger, don't lie and tell me I spelled her first name wrongly!) I love the song, and I do miss playing it live...

Which brings me onto my first moaning point:

I have about 2 and a bit weeks...

*checks iCal*

*spends 5 minutes fixing iCal events that have gone wrong*

*corrects to 10 minutes*

I have two weeks and four (sorry, three!) days to learn two set lists, write close to 20 bass lines and memorise them... So I thought I would tackle this as soon as possible.

So, I took up my bass, the song, and the chords and...

...

Exactly. Where DOES a good bass line come from? :-
1) The musical talent? Sadly, lacking.
2) Ones talent to playing an instrument? Again, sadly lacking. I will acknowledge, I can play very well. I find myself lacking any improvisational skills.
3) The song itself? The song is a piece for solo voice and guitar. Finding a bass line that will endeavour to not draw attention from the lyrics is tough.

I've currently resigned myself to playing root notes, which is so unbelievably mind-numbingly dull it makes me want to break an arm or perform cranial drill intrusion to reduce myself to a level of playing where finding and following root notes was a challenge...!

I've never considered myself dexterous or musically gifted, but I hold my playing in higher value than someone who was lumbered with playing the bass because it was the last instrument left to play in the band, or because playing the guitar was too difficult, and root notes feels like an absolute fucking cop out!

I feel so much like Angron today; bitter, broken, twisted... I can feel so much vile anger in my chest, like a solid, tennis ball sized mass. It's stopping me from switching off, if indeed I've ever been able to switch off. It's leaking some foul, bitter fluid into my blood, setting the muscles in my arms aflame, making me want to ball my hands into fists, to scream in frustration and initiate a short, sharp, bloody and expensive, whirlwind of destruction in which items both highly valued and highly valuable will be smashed into component parts and defenestrated...

So, why do I feel this way? Is my inability to write a creative, subtle bass line REALLY causing me so much anger? I'd be a fool to think so.

Is this the real me? a diminutive, perpetually angry little boy?

Is it the alcohol? Has my recent tee-totalism, followed by my even more recent few drinks, just tipped me over the edge?

Is it something more? Am I coming closer to needing a priest rather than a therapist?

Is it a simple case of cabin fever? The sight of the same four walls driving me to distraction?

I have more questions than I have answers.

Perhaps the best idea would be for me to have The Butcher's Nails installed, given two oversized chain axes and sent on a murderous rampage until armed response police shot me dead...

Who knows?

Wednesday, 13 March 2013

Wednesday Wibble #4

"The Whale Has Swallowed Me" by Hugh Laurie is drifting from my laptop speakers.

I'm contemplating going to be very early, but I know I still won't sleep until very late.

Then again, if I stay up late, I will have nothing to do with my evening.

The nicks in my fingers from two successive slips with a new craft knife blade are very tender. In future I must remember to be less clumsy.

As is so often the case recently, my mind is elsewhere: to thoughts of wargaming; to her; to the upcoming gig...

The gig.

It feels like far longer than June 2011 since my last one...

My word. So much has happened.

I'm certain the old magic is still there - I just have to not be overconfident and actually PUT THE TIME INTO PRACTICING!

I'm completely calm about the whole prospect.

What a lie. I'm bricking it.

Group therapy has come to a conclusion. The next hurdle? Psych assessment.

With the excessive levels of self-doubt I have displayed of late, part of me wonders: Is this really necessary?

I'm clearly mad as a brush.

Who else (Besides Stu Hamm) would attempt to learn to play Moonlight Sonata on the bass guitar?

There is also the part of me that, above all else, utterly regrets throwing up my hands and asking for help.

Why? It's always good to get help for this sort of thing! I hear you shout (or words to the effect of)

True. I'm grateful to all the friends and professionals who have helped me get through this last 13 months and counting. And yes, some of the happier moments of my life have occurred in the last 13 months...

I have, however, had (more than) my fair share of shit.

I miss the bliss in being completely ignorant to my condition.

While I relish the clear-mindedness my medication has given me, I also miss being able to tune shit out or put it to the back of my mind.

I also despise the fact that I was forcibly disrobed of my emotional armour, forced to admit I needed help, then trodden on by an oath-breaking, cradle-snatching, devious harpy, whom, it should be noted, still has many of my clothes! Oh well, I hope she's either burned them or feels like a bitch whenever she sees them.

In much the same way that you don't ask a person who you gave a plaster to, to return it; I don't want them back after that bitch has had them.

Saturday, 9 March 2013

Saturday Scrutiny #3

So today is part-psychological and part-hobby blog.

Firstly, I've been crippled by so much self doubt recently... I mean, yes, I'm being realistic in trying to tone down an "Ideal" scenario of all possible variables, but it seems that my brain cannot cope with being rational and so, has decided to throw itself into 'Scumbag' mode and show me the worst possible outcome. And for me, the most annoying part is that my brain is lying to me. It's telling me it knows what's going on in her head when it doesn't even know what IT is thinking. Maybe this is my body's reaction to the lack of energy drinks this past week... Well, 'Scumbag Brain', there's no more energy drinks coming. Period. So buck the f*ck up and stop being a tw*t to me re: this situation.

And now for the fun part - The hobby blog section!

So, with the recent release of the Chaos Daemons new rulesets for Warhammer 40k (and Fantasy) I've picked up daemons to add to the already huge list of army projects.

This list is as follows:

Chaos Space Marines - Word Bearers Legion. Recent new additions include 10 Chaos Terminators and 10 Warp Talons. I'm also currently building a Chaos Vindicator and Forgefiend to include in as Heavy Support choices. These, along with some Chaos Cultists I'm on with assembling, are forming the basis of my Word Bearers army. As an Undivided Legion (they pray equally to all four Chaos Gods and thus, gain no specific favour from any God) the potential for variety in Word Bearers is much greater than in one of the four Monotheistic legions (World Eater = Khorne, Death Guard = Nurgle, Thousand Sons = Tzeentch, Emperor's Children = Slaanesh) and as such, two squads are already showing varied Marks of Chaos; My Warp Talons have the Mark of Tzeentch (making their 5+ Daemon invulnerable save into a 4+, thereby increasing their survival percentage vs. high Strength/AP weapons from 33% to 50%) and a squad of Chaos Marines have the Mark of Khorne (Given as a fluff factor - the squad themselves are all armed with close combat weapons and are built with pieces of Khorne Berserkers interlaced. This is to show their slide from Word Bearers into Berserkers in the future. It also gives them  +2 Attacks on the charge and a +1 Attack bonus when charged, and with the Khorne Icon, they are given a +1 Strength boost to go with their +2 Attacks when they charge!) The Army itself is based partly on the 17th Legion's forces mentioned in the Know No Fear: The Battle for Calth book, with more Daemon units to be added in the future, such as Mutilators, Obliterators, a Heldrake etc.

Dark Angels - This is the last vestige of my Imperial allegiances, and damned strong ones they are too! With the release of the Dark Angels ruleset at the beginning of the year, the army itself received a long-awaited update, as well as adding in several new units I was eager to get ahold of. The army (Totalling some 5000 points or more) is predominantly based on the 1st and 2nd Companies (Deathwing and Ravenwing respectively) as well as adding in Tactical and Scout marines to round out the force and for use in smaller points games where manpower is more important than armour value! Recent additions include Ravenwing Black Knights, Deathwing Knights and another Tactical Squad from the Dark Vengeance boxset.

Dark Eldar - To begin with, these guys were bought solely as an Ally for the Chaos Marines a la 6th Edition rules, but the army is growing in size and stature (a lot of it still in boxes) and is akin to Urien Rakarth's 'Prophets of the Flesh' coven of Haemonculi, with units including Wracks, a Talos and a Chronos engine, Kabalite Trueborn and Reaver jetbikers. The army is being designed with the premise that if one moves fast enough, the enemy fire can be avoided and the flesh stripped from their bones before they can cry out for mercy.

Necrons - An army brought from 5th Edition, these guys are using Anrakyr and Szeras as their leaders, forming them into mighty and agile force. Rounded out with 2 Night Scythes, Tomb Blades, Triarch Stalkers and Canoptek Wraiths, these guys are also about speed, but their speed is leant a heavy hand on arrival when the Immortals are disgorged from the Scythes to target enemies with the help of the Triarch Stalkers!

Chaos Daemons - Currently consisting of the bare minimum of units, these guys are going to be developed into another hard hitting force; one that is less reliant on speed and more reliant on extreme application of force en masse, though they will mostly be allied to my Word Bearers, helping the narrative nature of the 17th Legion as Daemonancers.

Ogre Kingdoms - These are my primary Fantasy beasts and OH MY WORD (Bearers!) Do I LOVE these guys! These guys are WAY bigger than ANYTHING else in the Fantasy world and they intend to make it known! Tactics with these guys will need to be re-evaluated with the introduction of several huge pieces of war materiel, but I intend to hammer my future opponents into mush!

Orcs and Goblins - Started as a change from the Ogres, I've decided to get away from the "Standard" nature of Orcs (if their is such a thing) and base it on a loosely connected network of war bands gathering under one Warboss (or Wurrzag) to bring WAAAGH! to the Old World!

These are just a few of the MANY projects I have running, and in future, I may discuss more of my armies, but for now, thank you for allowing me to bore you with my psychotic ramblings...

Thursday, 28 February 2013

Thursday Thoughts #2

The little blue light of my soundcard blinks every second-and-a-half or so, asking me to switch it on. I'm not going to.

"Here Comes The Sun" is breaking the overbearing silence of my room right now.

The smell of beef is drifting from the kitchen, making me ravenously hungry.

I found out yesterday that my depression may have been a misdiagnosis. This angers me for several reasons. If I have been misdiagnosed :-

1) Why did my GP simply pass it off as depression in the first place? Surely one would place more emphasis on discovering a deeper rooted psychological issue?

2) Have I been taking medication that hasn't been aiding my recovery? Moreover, have I been taking medication that has been HINDERING my recovery, possibly with detrimental effects on my body?

3) Am I ever going to get better? Or am I now doomed to spend the rest of my life taking medication, having talking therapies of varied types and unable to conduct a proper life of working, earning money, forming relationships etc?

4) If it turns out to be a psychological disorder, why has it taken 25 years to discover I have said affliction?

5) If I have to go through a whole 'nother round of therapies, have I wasted valuable time fixing something I may not have?

A very close friend of mine refers to us (being me, her and several other sufferers of "Invisible Illnesses") as 'Veterans of the war', and now, I feel like a fraud. I have neither reason nor evidence to argue my point to her, but that is currently how I feel.

And no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the thoughts...

Saturday, 16 February 2013

Saturday Scrawl #1

Saturday Scrawl #1

The day is sunny outside and the silence of the house this past week is broken by discussions of 'just how did horse DNA end up in beef?' and other such nonsense - The parents are home from their holidays.

Churned up emotions are settling themselves after what has been a funny week, but the brain is no closer to achieving a sense of purpose, regardless of the amount of caffeine and B-vitamins pumped into it with can after can of an energy drink that shall remain nameless (but the effect is Monsterous!)

Thoughts appear and disappear within a matter of heartbeats; ideas flare into life and are extinguished with equal speed and ferocity; feelings continue to cycle round and round the arid landscape of my psyche, repeating the same words over and over again in tones audible only to my subconscious, causing the demons within to respond in kind, threatening to overwhelm reason and decency with the illogical and profaned cries of a creature searching for something impossible to find with such brash and idiotic means. The digital pursuit of criminals while being clad in black lycra and kevlar does little to satiate the demons. The brain must turn to pursuits more taxing to satisfy it.