A Title? But That Involves Thought...

Okay, okay. I know it's been an age since I last wrote, but don't hold it against me - assuming of course, you give a shit. But here's a quick update on what's happened since the last time I pained you with my litera- uh, ramblings.

Rejected, like a horny Jack Russel
Unfortunately, I didn't make it into the Army. This was a major set-back for me - one I'm still left reeling from, despite it happening over half a year ago. I had my whole life planned out on the back of being successful with this. But I wasn't, and I still haven't figured out an alternative track to take.
In case you're wondering, I was referred on the medical basis that I'm afflicted by migraines, of which I understand, but it still doesn't do anything to moisten my throat to help me swallow that large and bitter pill.

PPP-Passed
Literally by the skin of my teeth, but I passed college. My previous blogs have probably well documented the sheer lack of enjoyment that I found in going to college in the last few months of my course. Thanks to the abnormally high levels of wank that South Tyneside College is, and having less in common with my class mates than I would with a slug it got to the stage where I just lost all interest and did the bare minimum to pass with at least something that wouldn't have sent those two years sailing through the air straight into the thick file of my life headed: "ANOTHER WASTE OF FUCKING TIME".

Hello, thanks for calling...
I left Primark and got a job in the technical phone support industry. I found that leaving Primark after three years was a quite difficult, as much as I hated the job itself, the people who I worked with made it worth getting up for.
That aside, as I direct result in my being referred from the Army, I decided that I probably had to get a proper job where I had to get up every morning for. I've been there for five months now, and it's surprising how quickly it becomes apparent that spending 8 and a half hours a day talking at a computer screen is seriously yawn inducing.

Fell off t' perch
The news that an incredible member of the family was ill and diagnosed with weeks to live arrived like a kick in the groin - by a horse - for everyone. My Grandfather was my idol, one minute fit as a fiddle, the next, quite literally on his death bed.
A true Yorkshire man born and bred, big wig in the Maisonettes and head of the family, this man managed to sneak into Russia for a holiday, broke his foot on Ayers Rock and proposed to his wife on The Great Wall of China. He once when to the Borneo rainforest and traveled across Israel as well as countless other places. I could never even put into words how much of an inspirational man that he was. Really, I couldn't.

Commoner's Palace
Over the past year and a half I think I've moved around five times. A youth hostel, to 2 different shared accommodation houses, to a council flat and now finally a flat of which I share with a very close friend. It's taken a while, but I can finally settle down and be comfortable with where I live.


So, yeah - that's enough about my meaningless life. It probably wasn't quite as world changing as the Arab Spring, or Kim-Jong Il's demise - but it killed a few hours of otherwise inate boredom that has been my Saturday.

Don't ever be the first, don't ever be the last and don't ever volunteer to do anything.

Over the past month or so I have taken the decision and put into force the motions for my joining the Army. I've always wanted to join up and in 2009, I nearly did, falling short when I received the news that I was going to become a father. At the time I couldn't, in good conscience just fuck off and leave the mother to go through it without my support; or even risk missing some of the most important parts of a child's life; so I stayed and decided that maybe in the future I would try again.

Since the start of the year the idea of giving it a second chance has been bouncing around my head and I just put it down as a pipe dream and tried not to think about it too much, but then I got in one day and turned on the telly to the last 15minutes of a documentary that Jeremy Kyle was doing called Jeremy Kyle's: Military Driving School. It seriously put a strong, and sweet, taste in my mouth that made me decide that the Army is what I wanted.

The next day I had free I found myself sitting in the Armed Forces Careers Office in Newcastle, sat in the exact same spot as I had 2 years previous twisting my thumbs, looking around at the separate forces' desks, reading the posters and watching the same montage of clips repeat themselves over and over on the plasma in the corner of the room whilst I waited for my turn with the Army cadre. There was a surprising amount of other applicants in with me that day too, mostly young lasses; a couple had even brought their toddlers with them. I wasn't quite sure what their stories were, and I did my best not to find out. I was there for me, and for me only.

When the Staff Sergeant on duty that day finally got round to seeing me he asked me what the score was and I replied along the lines of, "well, I kind of want to join the Army...sir." Probably not the best work of articulation that's left my mouth, and he obviously thought the same with the retort of, "you wouldn't be sitting here if you didn't".

I explained to him that I wanted to join the RLC (Royal Logistics Corps) as a Driver and that I had applied a couple of years ago but decided not todue to the issues already explained above. From this he found me on the system and told me that I hadn't explained this to them at the time and they just assumed I had chickened out (which is understandable, there was a lot going on at that point in my life - perhaps notifying the Army that I wasn't joining after all may have slipped my mind). I apologised and explained that I thought I had and tried to make it look like I wasn't some silly boy who couldn't make up his mind.

The SSG told me that as a result of my past application and the current state of affairs within the Armed Forces that if I flunked this time around, unless it was for a 'fucking good reason', that would be it and I would be kicked out the door if I tried to apply again in the future. I told him that I understood and gathered up the application forms that he issued me with and left.

Filling out the forms didn't take too long, and the next opportunity I got, I returned them back the the Recruitment Office, where I found the same SSG that dealt with my application originally in 2009 - thankfully he didn't remember me, and didn't hold it against me that I'd dropped out before as much as the first SSG did. He told me that I was too smart to be a driver and should seriously consider doing something else. Copies of my ID and qualifications were taken and we had a little chat about how my father was once a signaller (which was what he was). He queried as to why I didn't want to follow in Dad's footsteps to which I replied that it just didn't sound very interesting (I think this offended him a little). Either way, he gave me a date to return to do my BARB test (British Army Recruitment Battery), shook my hand and sent me on my way.

The BARB test is a 30 minute basic aptitude test that generates a result from the answers provided to questions relating to basic logic. Said questions include: "If this shape looks like this now, what would it look like when flipped 90°?" Easy? You would think so, and so would I, but I somehow managed to fuck it up big time and came out with a result around 20 points lower than I had got in 2009. Thankfully it meant that I could still be a driver; but my personal pride did take a little bit of a dent. After this I had another word with my SSG about my options and with a firm handshake, yet more paperwork (this time medical) to fill in, a list of Army Jobs I am eligible for (mostly infantry) sent me on my way to chew over my list of choices.

Since then, I have decided on my job role that I would like to do (Driver/Communications Specialist) and as of earlier today, got my medical paperwork sorted out with my new doctor. Apparently my normal doctor retired in November and I didn't even realise - shows how often I go to see him. Anyway, my new doctor (whom has an equally Indian name) seemed very nice and eager to see my ambition to join up successful and promised to get the forms filled out and sent away as soon as he could.

Another thing I have been doing since the BARB test is a fitness work. I've researched the selection requirements for the RLC selection and found out that I have to be able to run 1.5miles in a maximum of 13 minutes 15 seconds. It may sound difficult, but believe me, 1.5 miles really isn't all that great a distance, and my times for it have steadily been getting better and better up until the focal point last night when I managed it in a time of 13.05. Which is my best time by far. I am going to keep training and aim for around 10minutes at least to ensure that I'm not passing by the skin of my teeth when it comes to doing it for real - and plus it's handy to have that extra piece of stamina available if and when I need it. I've also been doing a lot of cycling to raise my stamina levels and been getting the sit up and press up tally steadily counting upward.

That is it so far, and I'm just waiting to hear back from my SSG when he receives my medical paperwork from my doc. When that happens I'll be booked onto a pre ADSC course (basically a selection, selection course) where my fitness will be tested for a day to ensure that I am physically git enough to even join the Army.

I know this has been a long one, but bear with me for just a couple more paragraphs, please!

This is like a dream for me, and although I am seriously excited to finally be doing this and having all these events set into motion, I am also still ridiculously nervous. I'm worried about how much I'll miss my 2 year old son, and my family and friends. I'm worried about how much I'll miss my current job; as much as I hate the job itself, the people make it so much worth while.

But I know that on this path I'm taking, I'll make new friends, and I'll still be able to see my son, and I'll still be able to keep in contact with the friends I leave behind - and with all the money I'll be earning, I'll be able to spoil the sprog rotten and party 'til the cows come home when I'm on leave.

Until the next development, or event that causes me to have the urge to write satirically about...

ADIOS!

Obama bin Landen has had his fate seal'd.

This Monday, it would appear that the menace at the top of America's most wanted list was finally killed. But is this a good thing?

Monday morning saw a raid carried out by the crème de la crème of American Special Forces, the US Navy Seals [Seal's official site]. They carried out a meticulously planned raid on Osama's $1m compound, located less than a mile away from the main military institute in Pakistan, with the intelligence aid from the CIA. The result of which saw bin Laden shot above his left eye in a 'precision shot' (whoever said that is an idiot), his youngest wife and five more of his guards killed; with 2 taken prisoner. None of the soldiers taking part in the raid were killed or injured, but it would seem that even after this remarkable feat, the Americans couldn't help but put their trademark fuck up to the operation - but crashing one of their helicopters into the wall of the compound.

Nice one: Apparently caused by a mechanical malfunction.

After the raid, bin Laden's body was flown to a US carrier floating to the south of Afghanistan where he was 'cleansed' and given a traditional Islamic funeral before being buried at sea to stop his grave becoming a shrine to extremists.

When I woke up at 5.30 Monday morning for work, I turned the telly on and through my bleary eyes could've of sworn that I read, "Michelle Obama has been killed". I thought 'Oh my goodness!', blinked a few times and realised that what it actually said was "Osama bin Laden has been killed". I must say, there was some relief, swiftly followed by my mumbling, 'well, that's alrigh' then'. And since then the story has pretty much blanketed the news - with journalists and anchormen and women cursing their bad luck at having to get up extra early to practice the pronunciation of bin Laden's closest mates.  

But for me, there wasn't a feeling of joy. There wasn't a feeling of a chapter in history being finished, and this surprised me. I felt very neutral. I didn't feel the urge to tell everyone and I didn't feel the need to jump up and down and throw my arms in the air. 

I think this was to do with the fact that Osama wasn't really anybody who (contrary to popular belief) was actually dangerous. Yes, he had quite a ridiculous mindset and preached about it - it's the prats that believe what he had to say that are dangerous. Killing Osama has changed nothing, somebody will have replaced him, and when they die, somebody will replace them too. It's like the hype in Chelsea's £50m deal for Torres, only for him to make no difference and be an utter let down. The only thing 'good' about this is that it has pretty much super-glued Obama's re-election. 

If anything, it has caused a martyr. However, this remains to be seen, but if it turns out to be true, then it would justify Bush's decision to let bin Laden escape certain death in 2001. Either way, life will go on. People will still go to work, take their children to the park and go on holiday; no differently than before. 

No matter how you look at it, not very many people are particularly saddened by his death, not in Europe, America or even the Middle-East. 

This week sees a pretty major political domestic event too, the AV referendum. After a strong belief in the FPTP system, I have slowly been swayed away from it and come to the point that I don't really have a bias towards either First Past The Post or Alternative Vote systems - for this reason, I probably won't be placing my vote on it since I'm willing to be carried along either path that the country decided to go down on this (I would rather a form of PR). If you are unsure about what I am talking about, or still don't quite understand either voting system, this guy pretty much does a good job of summing it up. It is quite lengthy, but worth the read and pretty much sums up everything I have to say on the matter.

I would also like to congratulate Prince William and (now) Princess Kate on their marriage on Friday, 29th. For all those who watched it you can't deny at least some sense of patriotism for the whole affair, no matter how much you took the piss out of it all before hand; and for all you whom missed it - unlucky. But here's a brief sum up: a typical English royal get together with a very to-do execution of events including, but not limited to; horses, expensive cars, a huge abbey, extravagant clothes, the Queen and sand. Unfortunately I couldn't watch the whole thing since my draconian employer wanted me to earn them yet more money, but from what I hear, it all went rather smoothly in that very English way. 

I would also like to thank this same employer for letting me celebrate my Easter 'holidays' and get on with the college work that I had a lot of to do (which I should be, but haven't been doing, now) and thus my long spate of blogging silence. I love my job.

Heroes

I heard a story the other day. I don't know if it was true, but I do know that it holds a lot of meaning.

Anyway, there was a army photographer tagged to a GI unit in Vietnam for 6 months. Everyday for 6 months he went out with this unit on patrol, and everyday this photographer took pictures. Eventually it came to the day before his 6 months were up and he and the unit went out on patrol - just like everyday. 

The platoon were picking their way through the jungle until suddenly, the LT pushed over the photographer to the ground. From the ground, the photographer saw that same LT get shot in the head. What also happened was something that happened by pure chance. Pure luck. As the photographer hit the ground, he hit the ground, the camera went off as a result of the jolt from the impact with the ground and snapped the exact moment that the lieutenant was shot.

For 25 years, this photographer didn't show anybody this picture and didn't tell anybody of this story. He was racked with guilt, thinking that that LT had died instead of him, that he thought it should have been him that was killed. But one day this photographer looked at this photo at realised that this wasn't a man dying because of him, instead of him - but a man saving his life. It was a person dying whilst saving another persons life. 

From that moment, the photographer showed this picture, and he told the story, and he made sure people knew of this hero. I think that this just goes to show, it doesn't matter what happens, there is always two ways you can look at something. It's just up to you to decide which.

Define: Blog.

"1.) blatantly uninteresting online diary that gives the author the illusion that people are interested in their stupid, pathetic life. Consists of such riveting entries as "homework sucks" and "I slept until noon today." 

2.) a place where people whine  about their daily activities which nobody is interested in. topics like why they argue with boyfriend and how they end up together at last, daily anorexic activities like drinking blended organic fruits and vegetable for breakfast, lunch and dinner, talking about cutting themselves with a razor blade and how good they felt, whine  about their shopping activities and what they got."

No, I didn't write this, but I wish I had. I do think that the person who did write this definition may have just sat and trawled Tumblr for 10 minutes and came to the conclusion that this is what blogging is. I feel that there are a few other points that needed to be added. Like the following for Blogspot:

3) a place where traditional Christian American families can pose with their perfect prosperous lives with the persona of simple perfection posting pictures of mommy and daddy and their children on lovely days out together whilst seemingly clueless to the significant levels of risk associated with carelessly posting this information to the world.

Five out of 10 on the Blogspot blogs that I viewed at random came up with blogs matching my above description. That's HALF. Obviously this isn't a fair representation on the content of Blogspot, but it is definitely a large proportion of it's server space.

Obviously not all blogs fall within these 3 confines; there are a lot that are dedicated to cooking, faith, politics, music, film, games, cars, computers, blah-blah-blah-blah. There are blogs about literally everything. However, the above points are just a satirical generalisation to the blogesphere as a whole; much like the stereotype that all teenagers are lazy, skint, anti-social hoodies. 

Religion in society, that, and we're all going to die.

Earlier this week I saw a young Muslim chap in Sunderland with a young lady under his arm and a jacket that had the word 'Allah' on his back in Arabic. Aside from the girl, of which I'm sure there's somewhere in Islam that says that's naughty, I want to focus on the jacket.

I was fortunate enough to take advantage of my compulsory state education and during my dull Religious Education classes I was taught how the word God, or Allah, was written in Arabic. It's been a couple of years since I was at school, but after some thought about what I saw, I eventually recognised the Arabic word as God. When I realised this, I didn't look down on him, I didn't think he was a prat, I just accepted it as who he was and let him get on with it.

But this would not have been the case if I'd seen a young Christian chap with a jacket on that said God, or had the Christian fish on the back of it. I'd have given him a wide birth and came to the conclusion that he was a nutter.



Why would I have thought this? Isn't Christianity the national religion of Britain? Why do we collectively view anybody who chooses to openly advertise their religion with such scorn? I believe the leading role of this is the media tabloids (yes, them again.) They are so quick to jump up and publish stories such as "Islamic extremism creating 'no-go' areas for non-Muslims in Britain" [Mail Online] and then jumping to "Christian faces court over 'offensive' gay festival leaflets" [Mail Online].

From the outside (which is how the vast majority of people take their news) this would make it look like faith is narrow-minded, non-dynamic and all the same. The first article's headline even makes it seem like Britain is suffering an invasion! It probably doesn't help that extremist Islamics are blowing themselves up everyday in the name of a god - if there was a god, why does he allow people to so heinously commit these acts in his name?

I think another aspect that cannot be overlooked is the massive advances in social opinion towards many things that religions are against; homosexuality, marriage, abortion, euthanasia and science. As the everyday person is evolving their opinions on these matters, religion seems to steadfastly oppose it. Issues such as euthanasia and abortion could be argued to be matters of morality, but others such as homosexuality are not.

In every advancement in science, religion would seem to appear more and more false. For example, pictures such as the one of the one above that shows the residual aftermath of radiation that was left over from The Big Bang. The term 'I'll believe it when I see it' jumps to mind, and to this date, there is no modern evidence that proves the existence of a greater being.

Just because religion may be based around mythical beings, fictional stories and in some areas, backwards ideologies, it can't be denied that people that believe in a faith tend to live lives of charity. Without Christianity, many western organisations such as the YMCA and Salvation Army wouldn't exist and far many people would be far worse off.



Now on to my next point today, we're all going to die. Could you imagine living in a time without penicillin and other basic anti-infection drugs? That time could be returning soon thanks to the evolution of new super-bugs such as MRSI and C-Difficile and their tolerance to our main weapons against them. Not very many things like this worry me since reports such as this are released all the time, but this does. I find it chilling to the bone due to it being so believable. We are already in the opening rounds of the fight against these bugs; it's ever so slowly becoming harder and harder to find ways of treating them. 


Is this just a medical phenomena caused by humanity and it's overzealous use of antibiotics, or is it Mother Nature's answer to culling the human population that is plaguing the planet? 

How do you define the purpose of something that has NO purpose?

I have to do a specification for the game that I am programming at college. As you may have already learnt, I am appalling at programming, so this is quite a challenge. The following specification is the one that I would love to be able to submit. I really have no idea how I'm supposed to write a purpose for a game, since the reason why people play games is because they have no purpose.
I've written the actual specification which includes massive straw grasping, but here is the one that I would love to have submitted in its place.




Purpose (~100)

I have made this game because I have to. I don't especially want to, and I'm not especially good at it. That doesn't exactly explain the purpose, but I do kind of hope that this game is such a solid choice that it would survive a nuclear apocalypse and provide extreme and prolonged entertainment of the survived and mutilated humanity that remains. Perhaps in a similar circumstance to Fallout 3, by Bethesda.

Description (~400)

The game [Breakout] was originally developed by Atari in 1976. It was influenced by the earlier game, Pong, also by Atari, which is fitting, because I own an Atari t-shirt. I nearly wore it today, but instead settled for my high collar polo.
The game itself consists of rows of ‘bricks’ that occupy the majority of the players screen that must be ‘broken’ by a square that can be bounced from a paddle to keep the square in motion.

If the square was to miss the paddle then the player would lose a ‘life’ but they would generally have already lost their lives by playing this game in the first place.
I know right? Seriously advanced for its time.

User Requirements (~300)

A single finger and an eye-ball. Could the user be stretched to a basic computer use ability? It's okay if they can't, we can always get somebody else to turn it on.

Target Audience (~200)
Anybody that can be bothered to be killed via boredom and extreme monotony.