Whenever I step outside, somebody claims to see the light...

I am an avid gamer. It’s always been one of my personal interests to be involved in electronic gaming, almost of any genre. Earlier today, I tried out this game, a typical World War II type of game... or so I thought. I’ve read good reviews on this one particular game, so decided to give it a whirl myself. The whole time I was playing it, I kept thinking to myself... is this what really those people from World War II went through? Man.

A bit about the game itself... it’s a shooting type game, in where you control the Allies of WW2. I haven’t seen or heard of a game in where you can actually control the Axis, but perhaps it’s better that way. Anyway, it was surprisingly... life-like. The game itself, I mean. How the game works is that it brings around all these WW2 settings, Stalingrad being one of them. You, a simple, freshly recruited, nervous private, fight through the Axis lines, along with several of your “comrades.” Now, this isn’t gon’ a game review in where I jus’ praise the game about all its good things. What really hit me the most was how you go through the map with several of your comrades, shooting away. Next thing you know, a mortar lands several feet away from you, sparing you, but taking out your fellow soldiers. What a sinking feeling that must’ve been.

Enough about the game. What disturbed me the most about it was the whole concept of war... it sucks. Majorly. Big time. I’m sure I’m not the first to say what I’m about to... that what is the point of a war? It also came to me that war itself has been “glorified” by Hollywood, the media, or even people in general. They’ve given the concept that war is about glory... about one side proving themselves by wiping out the bad guys, and usually even a hero at the end of it. Sickening. War is about death. It doesn’t matter who dies, it’s not a pretty thought. I’ve disliked and hated people in my life, but not enough to kill them. I don’t think I’d ever have the nads to point a gun at a helpless guy’s face, and jus’ mercilessly pull the trigger. Call me a wuss, call me an idiot... But I place too much value on life itself. War doesn’t. That’s what nauseates me.

There is this one element in the game in where when you shoot the enemy, it doesn’t kill them, so they’re on their back, coughing for breath, but they still draw out their pistol. Now, since it’s a game, and the point in playing a video game is keeping your character alive, you have to shoot the guy in self-defense, right? Yeah. I thought to myself... Wow, what a shitty feeling it must’ve been to shoot a person in the head, with sorrow and helplessness in his eyes. Unless you’re some blood-hungry, egomaniacal, psychopathic lunatic out for a manhunt. If such is the case, then that person needs some serious therapy.

I know and have heard of people who actually “like” war... for the sake that it wipes out, eradicates people. Do these people actually take pleasure in seeing one man’s life being taken away against his own will? Sheesh. I also know for a fact that some Americans out there still think bombing Hiroshima was a mistake, jus’ as much as Germans regretting their mistake decades ago. There is no glory in war. People die... and not jus’ the soldiers. Families are forever broken, or young ones, who’ve never experienced a full life, die in a split-second. Literally. I already know some major-pessimist who may think that better for them to die now than it would be for them to experience a bitter, harsh life. I say to that... Lighten up, man. Who died and made you God?

I am also reminded of the time I recently had a “beer conversation” with a friend, and our drunken slurring eventually brought us to the US-Iraq situation. He pondered the thought of jus’ bombing that part of the Middle East, to take out Mr. Osama and his lackeys. Of course, I retorted with the moral issue of whether it’s right to sacrifice a million people to eliminate a few dozen, at most. Of course not. Then again, by letting those few dozen live, they have the capability to wipe out a million people, or more. Which jus’ sums it all up... War brings about no real solution, so why bother starting one?

That game kinda gave me a small perception of what it’s like to be in a war... and I didn’t like it. The feeling alone of knowing, not thinking, that your number might be up anytime, that it could all be over in a flash. The feeling of seeing your comrades die right in front of you, and you not being able to do a thing about it. The feeling of getting popped by someone you’ve never met in your life. The feeling of having to pop someone you’ve never met in your life. I know it may sound ridiculous, and people might think I’m on something and/or I’m overreacting. To that I say... Up yours. I say what I want, when I want.

“Death is the only solution - No man, no war.” – Joseph Stalin

“Where there is man, there will always be war.” – Albert Einstein

Are we that savage that war and violence is part of human nature?

Listen, you... Think of all of the time we've wasted...

So... it's been another what... two months since my last post? Ah, that's vintage Monch!

Seriously now... Jus' killin' time once again, thinkin' of stuff goin left and right, in and out of my head.

Well, I finally got the guitar back yesterday... After a three-week hiatus. Man, I played that thing... Well, not 'til my fingers bled, or so claimed Bryan Adams (Summer of '69), but I played it 'til it hurt. My moms practically forced me to learn the guitar... and I kinda liked it. After that, though, there were three, or was it even four years, that I didn't even pick up a guitar. It was only a couple of months ago that I decided to finally pick up, and practically relearn playing the guitar. The point of the story?

It's really a different type of high when you make your own music, with the help of an instrument of course. I'm not talkin' about creatin' music by belching and farting, although that's pretty hilarious, too. But really, it's such a... feeling strumming away, feeling the rhythm, feeling the beat. For that five minutes that you're playin a song, you literally jus' forget everything around. I've actually gotten to trouble because of that fact.

I sound like a hippie.

Anyway, one thing I still haven't been able to do is compose, write music and all that. I'm sure that must feel great. I've been working on it.

Later today, it's time to get 'high' once again.

Holla.

The scars remind us that the past is real...

Heh, it's been... what... four or so months now?

I'm jus' bored, really. Need a way to kill time 'til my next class, and I'm in the mood for a cigarette... yet.

I jus' saw that movie, The Terminal the other day. I thought, eh, what the heck... didn't see this, so might as well give this a shot. The way they advertised it in the trailers was as a pure comedy flick, that's why I didn't seem that interested. Man, was I wrong.

The main man, Viktor Naworski, as I remember... was one of those protagonists in most stories that take a lot of shit, but it doesn't discourage them from anything. What hit me the most about that movie was how reality can really ruin one man's good intentions. I don't think there's a way to explain that any further, so I'll leave it at that.

Somethin' about that movie also... was how real it seemed. I know Krakozshia doesn't exist, but y'all know what I mean. It's prob'ly my most realistic favorite movie to date, the The Pianist. (Say it...) Heh, with my list of favorite movies, a lot of them are very loosely based on reality. Hell, if I wanted to experience reality by myself, all I'd have to do is take a five minute walk and I'm there.

Yeah, killed enough time. I'm gone. Nothin' really to write about, jus' spaced out... and a li'l hungry, come to think of it.

Holla.

Father, father, father... Help us...

It shouldn't take a genius to know from what song I got that one from.

Well, blog time once again. I feel good. Well, not that hoop-dee-do, click-my-heels good... but I'm aight.

I'm writin' in to...correct myself in the previous blog I wrote.

This internet cafe is still so fuckin' noisy. Oh well. What else can one expect. And if anyone is lookin' over my shoulder, readin' what I'm typin... get a life, pal.

Now then. I mentioned in my previous blog that samaritans and martrys don't exist. I was wrong, and I think I owe some people an apology. After some thinking and talking... and a few cigarettes, I had a better understanding of it. Samaritans do exist. I know someone. Heh, I don't even know if he knows about this blog. He'd prob'ly scold me for some of the shit I said... like so. Anyway. Samaritans are those who give unwillingly, without expecting return or worse...recognition. That's what pisses me off. But first... priests are more or less the perfect example of today's samaritan. They have practically given their lives for service to God... and I gotta say... Wow. That takes nads, baby. They are the ones who give, and not expect return and/or recognition.

I think I have a better understanding of it. The ones that piss me off are self-proclaimed samaritans and martyrs... those who give, and expect recognition, and start bitchin' if they don't get it. Do they even have the right to call themselves samaritans? Please. Then there are those self-proclaimed martrys... those who'd prob'ly expect (and want) a hero's funeral if they committed "a last act of honor." Those who donate a school building and WANT it named after them... that's a self-proclaimed samaritan. Someone who takes trouble for you, but expects for you to do the same... that's a self-proclaimed martyr. I can keep going. Piece of advice: For those who think life is all about recognition and approval, seek recognition and approval of yourself first, 'coz I personally believe that's where the main problem lies in.

Well. What else is floating in this vast emptiness I call my head?

Ah. Jam left. Jus' the previous weekend. I finally shed those tears, and I needed those. We been through shit and stone together, and I will miss those times that he's not here with us. But he's there, and he'll do good... and that's all we need to know to make it all better. You better bring your skinny-ass back here! Haha!

Yup. It'll prob'ly be another three months or so 'til my next post... or 'til when the laptop's fixed. Either way.

Holla.

You bleed, you learn...

Wow. I jus checked as to when I updated this last... Jan 12, 2k6. In two days, that's exactly two months! No wait, not really... February has less than 30 days. Ah, screw it.

Week's over, so that means the weekend's here... But it ain't gon' be like any other weekend. Jam ain't gon' be here with us. Err... I mean this isn't the first time we wouldn't see him for the weekend, since we knew the.....

THIS INTERNET CAFE IS SO FUCKING NOISY.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Jam. Since we knew we'd see him the weekend after, or real soon. Well, this time we won't see him for another thirty-six months or so. Wow.

To be honest, I have seemed a bit indifferent about it. I guess it's a defensive mechanism, really. When people act indifferent, even a bit cold, towards somethin' or someone, in order to make themselves... You get the point.

I could use a cigarette right about now.

I really should quit smokin'. Who am I kidding.

You know, as much as we hate to see Jam leave, one can't help but feel happy about him. Perhaps that's why I'm not as much as an emotional wreck as I thought. I mean, Jam is leaving, to greener pastures, if you will. Let's jus' say... the grass is all dried out on this side of the pasture.

I mean, we wouldn't be his real friends if we were bitter about him leaving. Sure, we're sad, but we aren't bitter. Unless, of course, if one of us left the country jus' to follow around his/her abusive boyfriend/girlfriend. We're glad for him at the same time, well, I am... 'coz I know that him moving out is a good opportunity for himself to grow. In a way, I kinda envy him. Of course, I'm sure Jam's a bit sad about his leaving, but hey... people should think first of themselves, anybody else second. Taking a bullet? Ficitional.

As much as I hate to admit it sometimes, this really is survival of the fittest. Dog eat dog. Man eat pork. Really, though. You ain't gon' get anywhere jus' by sittin' on your ass, and expect mama and papa to pay for your Lamborghinis. If there are any Hollywood-type brats out there, I hope they realize that even if mama and papa hand them down an MNE, it's not gon' run itself. I jus' read an article about children of some of China's most successful businessmen. I think there's a Chinese word for that... Mu-tse. That's "mooch", by the way.

Dog eat dog. Samaritans don't exist in this world. The last one was in the Biblical times, dated centuries ago. Literally. Martyrs? They're called martrys 'coz they die. I'm not tryin' to discourage anyone out there who feels like they can 'change the world.' Go ahead. It's your life, and I have no right in interferring in it... but I do have the right to my own opinion. The world can't be changed; the world changes you.

I learned that the hard way.

For once, the title of my post makes sense to my point. You bleed, you learn. The classic tale of the moth and the flame.

A lot of people live in fairy tale worlds.

It's nice to dream once in a while.

God bless you, Jam. Be safe, and be back.

Holla.

Be my savior... And I'll be your downfall...

Damn. I've gotta figure out the title to that song. That part has been stuck in my head for the longest time.

Anyway. New Year. New Blog. Same ol' idiot. Hehe.

One thing that miffs me big time is when people post comments on your blog, and when you open it to read it, it's jus' some idiot tryin' to advertise their website or worse... themselves. If anyone's readin' this and is thinkin' about posting an ad in my comments section, don't waste your time. I'll delete it anyway. So go fuck off and find somethin' better to do with your pathetic lives.

Whew. Now that that's over with.

I been thinkin' about postin' my next blog, jus' never got around to it. Well, recently I came up with this trippy idea for a next blog. A bunch of what if's.

Like:

What if we all still lived in the Garden of Eden.

What if you could visit heaven and hell for a day. (It wouldn't take a genius to figure where you'd want to go.)

What if superheroes and powers existed.

What if YOU had superpowers.

What if you could talk to God.

What if you were God.

What if we really are jus' living a dream. (No, I didn't see Matrix recently. They totally ruined that concept.)

What if we all wore the same thing, like black jumpsuits or whatever.

What if you lost a leg or a hand... or both.

What if Robocop was real.

What if the Terminator was real!

What if you could read minds.

What if you were given the chance to be told the time and date of your death.

What if you actually remembered everthing, since childbirth.

What if extra-terrestrial civilizations actually existed, and that we were able to communicate with them.

What if the end of the world came tomorrow.

What if you got the newspaper a day early. (Would you bet on the sports, or use it to try to save people's lives... like that Early Edition show.)

What if you saw dead people. (Don't say it...)

What if you got sentenced for life, and you were wrongfully accused.

What if Hitler, Napoleon, Alexander, and Sun Tzu all existed in our time? (Scary...)

What if you could read minds. (Oh yeah, like y'all didn't see that comin'!)

What if you could control time.

What if you could actually control your life.

Those're all I could think of. That was trippy. I'll prob'ly do that again sometime.

Holla.