Friday 31 May 2013

The Lightside Enigma

There was once a little lampshade. He was beige, conical and full of dreams.
He started life on a shelf, a HOMEBASE shelf to be exact. This was not an enjoyable start to life, as many of his twins forever rested upon his head. It was not enjoyable to be crushed under the weight of so many family members, but he knew one day, his time would come.

Then, by chance, that day came earlier than expected.
The morning passed with no real excitement. People went by, maybe one twin was lifted off the top and removed. Shade was ready for another day of being squashed and deflated.
That was until an independent contractor showed up. Shade didn't know this exactly, all he could see with the room he had left was a rather gaudy tie.
"Ah, these lampshades should do just fine," Colourful-Tie said.
Shade suddenly felt at least five of his twins being lifted off from the top, and the world came into a rather sharper view. Indeed, Shade was able to see the Tie Man trip over a passing, running child, and land on top of all his brothers, crushing them.
Staff members rushed over to help the man with poor taste in ties. He got up, dusted himself off and took down the next five, including Shade.
"Guess these will do then."
With little dignity left, the man carried the group to the tills.
If lampshades were capable of noise, Shade would have been yelling in excitement.

For the most part, the next part of his life was not exactly action packed. Shade went from a HOMEBASE shelf, to a cupboard, to a van, to the floor of an empty block of flats.
Not long after the latter part of his life, he was strapped to Mother Wire - silent ceiling hanger - and left in a bare room.
This room, over time, took more signs of life. More light attachments were added, carpets fitted, windows cleaned.
And eventually, Shade was forcibly introduced to Brother Bulb. Shade would direct Bulb's power and keep him from the dust, and in return, Bulb would keep Shade's life illuminated.

From that point on, Shade and his Bulb-Brother would always be working together; bringing light and destroying darkness whenever they were switched on enough. They both existed together, happily, suspended by Mother Wire.
They didn't ask for much. Bulb often wanted his head exchanged; Shade often got rather dusty. But overall, they were a peaceful group, in the flat of a quiet old woman who only asked for their assistance when she wanted to read in the evening.
Not once were they used late at night.
Never.

Of course, time progresses, as it always will.
Times change, as they always will.
Bulbs change, as they annoyingly have to be.
And people move out.
And people move in.
And sometimes new people aren't liked. Sometimes they don't show respect to their furniture.
Sometimes they'll leave a bulb on all night and get their nice lampshade all hot and bothered simply because they forgot to turn it off when they came in from drinking.

Shade, Bulb and Wire got new owners very much like these. They suffered in silence for two years, until the - quite literally - Black Day.

The owner came back drunk, again. But this time, something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The owner was not alone. In through Front Door, new people were coming in. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 people! Eight new people who were probably going to show as much respect to the Lighting Trio as their owner.
Things progressed rather tensely, but safely, at first. The drunken nine were happy with their bottles, their music, and their shouting.
Then one got onto the sofa.
And declared he was Tarzan.
And jumped, reaching out...
                                            ...grabbed Mother Wire....
                                                                                     ...who snapped........

The group crashed down. Bulb showed signs of breaking, but held it together, as Mother Wire tried her best not to scream.

Laughter. So much drunken laughter, Shade thought it'd never end.
Then the three were dragged upwards.
Used as a hat.
As a wrist decoration.
Twirled round and round by Mother Wire.
Until eventually, Mother Wire squirmed free.
The Lighting Trio flew...across the room...out the open window...across the street...down into the gutter.
There they lay. All of eternity stretched out before them. Bulb was lined with cracks, and Mother Wire was hanging lifelessly.
Shade could only think back to Bad-Tie-Man. To the child who tripped him. To the twins, one of which should have been right here instead.
All Shade had was his thoughts.

*
 
The next day, the Shade-Bulb-Wire would be discovered during a drive into town. The two discoverers, codenamed Stairs and Landmine, would not be able to stop to pick up and rescue the trio.
No. They could only watch as they passed, Shade covering Bulb from the increasing rain.
But the two would spare a thought to the trio; wondering how they could have possibly arrived there and what had happened prior to the incident.
They would speculate many theories, and even laugh.
On the drive back, they would notice and wonder aloud about how the trio had suddenly disappeared.
They would even tell friends about their passing encounter; even joke that they should write a story about it.
 
Hence, we are here.
Hi Chelsea! Just for you =]
 

Sunday 26 May 2013

The pixels are clearing...

It's been nearly 2 years since I've posted twice on here in the same day. It's even been quite a while since I've posted twice in the same month.
But a certain event has lead to this development; and when you've finished this post, the one afterwards may make  a little bit more sense.

So yesterday, 25.05.13, my PlayStation3 froze. Which is nothing new, except when I turned it back on, it told me something about a corrupted storage system and some kind of restore manoeuvre.
In any case, it would seem that whatever I choose to do, all saved data and what-not will be wiped, to return my PlayStation3 to, quite simply, just that. No games, no music, no pictures, no messages.
Nothing.

Suffice to say, I was rather miffed at the time and, right this minute, have tabs open to PlayStation support, my email account and online advice.
But this event has rather inspired a great deal of thought. I now have two options:

1) The Immature Way: Keep trying to restore the console, or wipe it and start again, or buy a new one. Which I know sounds like three options in one, but in summary, option 1 allows me to remain as a Gamer. In likelihood, I am going to have to start EVERYTHING from the beginning again, which sounds both interesting and exhaustive. (Mainly in the case of LittleBigPlanet and Skyrim. *sigh*) 

2) The Grown-Up Way: Stop. Just stop. Instead of spending so much of life in front of a screen, do something else. Do some writing or reading, get a job, go get some exercise. Every time I fancy shooting zombies or driving fast in some pixels, I could go out and actually do something worthwhile.

This debate has kept me thinking hard for the last 18hours or so. I'm suffering a huge internal conflict, with options 1 and 2 both shouting their views inside my head - and none of this is helped by a second conflict shouting along with them:
I have been gaming since my childhood; it is an integral part of my life versus Why am I getting so frantic about something as meaningless as video games? 
Tricky one. It's essentially the immature side and responsible side fighting again but in a different way. And I've no idea which to listen to and I'm starting to get a real headache.

The fact that I haven't decided yet also interests me. Maybe this is, what they'd say in Doctor Who, a pivotal point in my timeline - the deciding moment where I'll either grow up or just keep to my childish ways.
It is an incredibly big question for me; one that I doubt I can answer alone. It seems I want to grow up and down in the same instance. Maybe I should just do nothing.
But I do that so often in my life I'm starting to get sick of it.

Anyway, I have the emails and PlayStation websites still open. By either today or tomorrow I shall have made an informed decision. Whatever conclusion I come to, things are going to change.
Only one way to find out if it's for the better...

(Any sensible opinions on what to do are welcome, Facebook.)

 

Different Disappointment

Hah, my 42nd blog post. Maybe this post will have something to do with Life, the Universe and Everything.
But I highly doubt it.
The subject matter of this post is as follows:
I have found the worst kind of dreams.

Now, I imagine the primary thought here is "nightmares", which is a fair point. Nightmares can destroy a person and create the strongest of fears.
But I have one famous line for you, actually taken from The Hunger Games: "Hope. Hope is the only motivator stronger than fear."
By extended knowledge, smashed hopes hurt you more than fear.

So the worst dreams are not scary nightmares; they are hopeful dreams.

I get these a lot when I'm going through emotional times in life: a falling out with a friend, the passing of a relative or even losing a possession dear to me. I'll spend most nights - if not all, depending on the connection with the friend/relative/possession - constantly dreaming that I am reunited with them/it. In my mind, all differences and losses are optimistically swept under the rug and I'm left inside my own mind with nothing but pure happiness at being reunited.
Right until I wake up.

This is where Hope-Dreams triumph over Nightmares and win the title of 'Worse'. A nightmare can be escaped by waking up. You leave fear and despair behind and re-enter a world of safety and optimism.
With a Hope-Dream, it's completely the other way round. The friend still hates you, the relative is still gone, your possession is still broken/lost. And that cuts you far more deeply than waking up scared ever will.

It's more often than not horrible waking up from dreams anyway. You can no longer fly, or can't talk to animals or be a superhero anymore - but you can accept that more easily. Having these kind of powers is unlikely anyway, so you just get on with your life.

But after a realistic dream, you just can't. A broken heart is a desperate muscle - believe me, I know. Even if you see something happy in your head, just for a minute, you will grab onto that and hold onto it no matter what. You will accept that everything has changed for the better because that is what you want, above all else. 
Peace is yours, right until you open your eyes.
And it hurts.

So yeah. Not a happy or exactly meaningful blog post. But it's just something I've come to realise given situations recently.
More often that not I wish to live inside my own head.
It's far happier in there.