Breaking Away From Reality

The snow was overrated.  I’ve just seen it.  It’s cold and white.  I’m over it.

I ate a delicious eight ounce steak, with chicken and bacon tortellini, smothered in ragu.  I gave up on the beer.  I was bored, anxious, and tired.  Diving into Baldur’s Gate really helped put me off the drink.

Len’s asleep next to me.  I’m on the beanbag and she’s stirring, on the settee.  I feel the need to go on a coffee binge.  I need a high.  Either it’s from endorphins from chocolate, caffeine, alcohol, or nicotine.

Of course now I’ve got to find another game to play while I think about Baldur’s Gate.  It’ll be an easy decision when I’ve got the Xbox, because it’ll either be The Witcher 3, or Assassin’s Creed Origins, to begin with.  I’ve got loads more in my digital library, many worth playing.  Gaming’s my time out, my rest from reality.  Yes, wouldn’t that be a surprise.  Very funny.

Speaking of breaks from reality.  My voices are aggressive.  I don’t know why, but when it’s snowy, I feel I have to keep my voice down.  Feeling like this has somehow amplified my feedback voices.

Len and I were at the doctor’s surgery.  I observed the doctor moving everything around quietly and carefully.  It took my attention.  He was easing a bin lid down, unzipping his bag ever-so gently.  I wondered if it was a behaviour I should mimic.  There’s me scraping a hefty chair across the room, as he picked up all four legs and placed them back down neatly, on the floor at one side of the room.

I’ve realised my life’s easier if I just help Len with what she asks me to help with.  It doesn’t cost much effort for me to make her something to eat, fetch her a drink.  I’m quite liberated by not having to fight her at every request for aid.  We seem to be getting on a lot better, too.  I live to serve.

Baldur’s Gate and The Seed Within

I just started a game of Baldur’s Gate:  Enhanced Edition.  I’ve heard there’s over one hundred hours of gameplay.  I’m liking the idea of that.  Maybe it’ll scratch the itch that not playing The Witcher 3 brings.

I drink less when I game more.  Who wants to negate feeling immersed in an experience, with the added detriment of not remembering the experience?  I find myself leaving the beer on the coffee table, focusing instead on being enveloped by the plot of the story, the vividness of the graphics.

I quit drinking for two reasons.  I wanted to be clear-minded for my meditation, and I wanted to play more games and feel focused within the experience.  This time of year’s perfect for gaming.  The nights are longer, you feel cosier inside, and the anticipation of the next social event fills you with a sense of hope.

It was only a few years ago I was spending fifty to a hundred pounds on each person.  I had more savings, then.  When I say more, I mean I don’t have any savings, now.  I spent it all.  I’d do it all again, damn it.  I’d do it all again.

At one point I had an Xbox One, a PS4, and a Wii U.  I enjoyed the games, the variety three systems brought, but in the end I found it more useful to focus on just one.

Baldur’s Gate’s in my GOG library, so I play it on my laptop.  The game’s played with a mouse, and a few hotkeys on the keyboard.  It’s somewhere between nostalgia, and love, to play a good game for prolonged periods of time.

Time’s never wasted if it’s enjoyed.  Time is always wasted when it isn’t enjoyed.  I don’t feel the need to feel productive.  I do see the sense in maintaining the feeling that I’m entertained.  Gaming, TV, and the internet can take you a long way.  I like getting lost in something.  There’s a sense of adventure to it all.

Sure, I should get out more.  I should create my own adventures, and I will.  Recently’s been about finding ways for my mind to travel.  This healthy if not handsome body’s been mainly keeping me alive.  I was all about pleasures of the body, in years gone by.  Now I’m all about feeding the mind.  I’m more sedentary.

I thought about getting paid for what I loved.  I loved blogging.  I achieved that goal without, at first, realising it.  I look back now and think how I went full circle.  I had to learn the grind, to find the ease and enjoyment that doing something meaningful brought.

Len’s sitting on he sofa, reading her bible.  I’m sipping on an Extra Smooth, waiting for my next nicotine cravings, with enthusiasm.  Writing’s always been something I’ve enjoyed.  I realised I could write for a living.  Looking back, I could have done parkour or kung fu for a living, had I only seen the potential in YouTube money, and stuck to it.

The general consensus used to be that if anybody could do it, it would be me.  I still feel my potential.  It’s just not so outwardly obvious, anymore.  I’m in my mid-thirties, and I do little.  I don’t really need anybody else to see my potential.

I’m cool with knowing I can achieve anything.  I believe that about all people.  You can’t go wrong or be half-hearted, about the nature of your own innate potential, if you view potential as a birthright of every human with a sound enough mind to learn and develop.

Embracing the Winter

I’m sitting here with the windows open, glancing repeatedly, impatiently waiting for it to snow.  It’s promised about eight inches of snow.  I love snow.  Of course, it’ll be better if it doesn’t snow.  I’ve got to pick something up for Len.  We’re going to the doctors on Monday.  The snow’s something I can’t help but enjoy, though.

When I was a kid, snow meant I’d look out of my bedroom window and see the sledgers frollocking, sliding down the main hill that somebody always built a snow ramp on.  Another person’d build a makeshift igloo at the top of the slope, and I’d watch people for ages, before finally joining them, dragging my sledge behind me.

I’ve always loved being outside in the snow, especially at night.  The world’s yours.  It’s eerily quiet.  All there is to hear’s the occasional gust of wind, the crunching sound of your feet leaving unique footsteps in the snow.  There’s always something peaceful about snowy days and nights, something homely.

It’s two weeks, more or less, until christmas.  Thoughts of a new Xbox fade, in favour of the idea of drinking and smoking, eating a delicious thai dinner on christmas day.  I think it’s going to be a good one.  The build up to that’s a simple process of keeping warm, embracing a slower pace of life, and relishing in all the delights that this type of year brings.

Paint Me In Colour

It’s four in the morning and I’m searching for something.  I’m listening to Audible.  I’m drinking coffee, and beer.  I’m wondering.  I’m pondering.  Some levitation of the self must occur.  I have to find resolutions to a problem I can’t articulate.  Something’s missing.

Earlier I glared at a leaf.  One yellow leaf.  The dark backdrop, the sullen night sky, challenged me to dare.  I pictured the leaf falling, tearing from its stem.  I called myself crazy and forgot about it, taking a drag of my fag.  I looked down and heard a cracking noise.  The object caught me in my peripheral vision.  The leaf had fallen.

I tried to manifest something negative by testing Fate.  Nothing negative happened.  I’m two steps away from losing all spirituality.  It doesn’t even matter.  It never did.  The only spiritual truths that make sense to me are quite simplistic.  I could achieve an enlightened state as an atheist.

Beer gives me five times the power meditation would.  I’m focused and relaxed.  That’s a good combination.  I feel like branching out, smoking DMT.  It’s too risky, though.  It’s taken me about eight years to recover.  I don’t want to set myself eight years back, now.

I want more tattoos but I can’t be arsed to go through the pain.  I find what feels good now.  It’s mouth pleasure over cardiovascular movement.  It’s beer, coffee, and fag high, as opposed to a sense of accomplishment.  I’m not trapped.  I’m entrenched.  I don’t know if that’s a problem or a blessing.  I’m not going to split hairs worrying about it, either.

Good News, Good Times

I’m boring my Facebook friends to death, so I thought I’d change things up a bit and come and bore you to death.  I post on here, not because I’ve got something to say, but because I just need to say something.  I try and keep my picture posting to a minimum on Facebook, too.

Len’s asleep.  It turns out that whatever they found in her liver isn’t cause for alarm.  My Nan didn’t have a stroke.  It looks like Christmas is going to happen without personal tragedy, which is always nice.

I’ve just been playing some retro games online.  I watched the first two seasons of The Inbetweeners.  It’s not such an uncomfortable watch now.  I’m used to it.

Vikings was underwhelming.  I’ll always remember those first three seasons as the best television I’ve ever seen.  Game of Thrones could be written by a six year old, and as long as the plot progressed, I’d be happy.  They’ve set it all up, got you addicted to the characters, and now to me it’s just fan service.

You’ve got Stranger Things.  That’s another show I’ll look forward to seeing more of.  Rick and Morty is interesting.  Other than those, there’s not a lot I watch.  Games are better than TV.  I’d be playing The Witcher 3 right now.  I’ll love it after Christmas day, when I’ve got my Xbox.

I’m drinking a beer, trying to will time itself to go slow.  Sure, I’m looking forward to Christmas, but I don’t want to rush autumn and winter.  As a result, autumn has gone quickly, while the summer sank its heated teeth into me, and not in a good way.

I’ve decided that next year I’m going to enjoy summer.  I’ll aim to get out more, experience the perks that warm dry weather offers.  Right now, beer in hand, I’m appreciating the moody weather.  I’ve got a fridge full of mince pies and other delights.