Adventures in shopping

The descent down the escalator and the thick smell of the refrigerators enters my nose. Any thoughts of browsing the inventory are decimated with the original mission goal crystal clear; get in, get the job done, get out. I check my list, then begin skating around the couples and the doddering elderly, heading to the first objective. The moment of placing the fruits into my dirty little gray plastic basket is marked by inexplicable babble from the faceless employees in front of the microphone somewhere. I can't tell if it's male or female coming through, but when it ends it returns to what I'd previous blocked out; easy listening. The 90s pop comes through and infects, and for a moment I say the lyrics in my mind while scanning the shelves.

I'm a fool. I'd momentarily lost sight of the mission.

Back on target, I continue my dance with weaving around slack jawed consumers. I am already aware that I'm doing to well. They will suspect me. I must convince them I am one of them, lest they pounce. I see the tea and position myself carefully. Strategically I am slightly blocking an old woman, then move out of her way. It works, or at least I believe it does. I have to believe. I have to succeed. I have to escape. My basket is complete, so escape I shall do.

They ambush me on the way out. Fruit cake. Two of them, one for 33% fruit and the other with 37%. There are no prices on the shelve, no way to know which is the better choice. They'd gotten me. I was caught, trapped in the thoughts on consumerism and paranoia.

I took the 37% and went for the checkout.

The Green Cross Code

I tend to feel a little guilty when waiting to cross the road if there's a small kid nearby. I don't want to give them the impression that the lights are optional. That's something that they find out themselves, you have to earn that secret knowledge.

Like when I'd walk home at night, I don't want to follow anybody too closly, particularly women, even if they are walking stupidly slow. Retardedly slow. So then I'd speed up a little to overtake. But they get nervous and look over to see what it is. But you don't want to slow down because that makes you look like you are up to something. So you keep going, but keep a distance. But not too far, or it looks like you've been discovered and are trying to avoid looking like you were up to something.

Is that more O.C.D? Or just plain paranoia?

I prefer to think of it as courtesy.

Coffee and cake

Day shift again finally, and with with my weekend I can climatise to proper sleeping patterns to go with it. Except I got tired after a couple hours and crawled into bed in the late morning again to wake up 3 hours later. We'll see what consequences that has when I have to go to bed at 9 tonight.

Coffee and donut, Penn & Teller's Bullshit, and 3.3 is installing. Feeling very privilaged and a bit of a yuppie.

The Deaf Leading The Blind

After some Modern Warfare 2, which I'll get to later, I decided the do a bit of self-educating. Following what I'd heard on the Penn Jillette Radio show on Free FM (technically the podcast of said show from 3 years ago) and my current penachant for documentaries at the moment, I watched The Root of all Evil by Richard Dawkins, and it's professing of religons of all kinds writing off evolution, refusing to educate children properly, and generally going to bring about the end of the world through ones means or another. All very prophetic, ironicaly enough, but he annoyed me as much as the people he was interviewing; he was actively aggresive to them when they said something that didn't fit with his own views, which the very thing he was acusing them of. Perhaps he was trying to get a reaction out of them to do the same or to make a point, but it just became hypocritical to me. Some even seemed to respect Dawkins' own views while not forcing theirs upon him. I can't say he wasn't always doing the same. Which is a shame from a man trying to use the show partly to promote the idea that those of us without religion are the more peaceful and openminded.

Responsibility

Took me nearly 28 years but I might be an adult.

The apartment now has been upgraded from a set of plastic boxes and a table bending from the weight to nice sleek desk, bookcase and set of drawers. My kitchen sink is empty rather than perpetually stacked full, I have fruit juices in the fridge and apples on my countertop. Large box under my sink to take the recycling which would otherwise be discarded haphazardly by my feet. Floor mopped and vacuumed and (most of) the nicknacks placed on the shelves. TV cabinet organised with XBox360 and PlayStation3 inside it rather than plonked on top.

I give it 2 weeks.

The end of the world and other CG BS

So I sit on the train facing bums with sob stories that I can't understand, coming back for seeing 2012, and I can't say I liked it. I enjoyed it, to a degree, but not liked. All the feelgood and "arnt we great yeehah"-ishness is not for me. Maybe to much happy ending. Which is odd for somebody whom is depressed to say. Perhaps that why I didn't like it.

Warning: This is not a test

Insert your own profound, insightful or cliched statement here. There's enough for you to choose from.

So I make this thing and yet have nothing really to say. But how's that any different to the rest of the Internet?

(rimshot)

Oh, but I kid. So why am I here? Not sure, but we'll probably find out as things go on. I'll probably be somewhere that I can exercise some demons, spew vile, wax intellectual (or at least faux-intellectual) and maybe toy with some ideas and concepts that I have.

Who I am is not important, and for now best not really gone into. If reading this, odds are that you know me so it's not relevant. What I do for a living, same deal. References might work there way in, but it'll not be specific. That's the catch with non-disclosure contracts. But I digress...

5am in the morning on what is the first day of my version of my weekend. 2 degrees outside. Will likely get woken up in 5 hours by some construction work or some kind. Then the fun begins anew.

Until then.