Discussion in 'Off Topic Area' started by Ero-Sennin, Nov 27, 2012.
What. Is. This. Even.
Just got done with five days at my bonsai teacher's garden. Absolutely exhausted. My arms look like I stuck them into a barrel of methed out kittens. I feel more confident about wiring then I ever have before and can do it to a high standard very quickly. I can't wait to get home and start wiring.
Can't wait to get destroyed in this hurricane. -_-
Tis why I moved from "paradise" to the flyover state of Missouri. I traded tropical storms and hurricanes for hail and tornadoes!
Wrecked my knee a couple of weeks ago.
On hour 2 of waiting for a non existant Ambo, they sent a cab for me. In that time I got to contemplate as I sat in the tube station, by the steps of where I fell... "Here we go again". "Oh here comes another group of shouty teens to point and laugh"
"Hmmm. Nope. The ceiling still hasnt changed colour"
Im used to people giving me weird looks. Its not that i dress somewhere between a dork and a triad. (Imagine Sheldon of BigBang Theory and Bolo Yeung's odd love child).
But the agonising pain in my knee was distracting. And altho I know that the London Ambulance Service are super stretched due to cuts and demands..this was one time I hoped they would hurry the hell up in dealing with some scrote who "got the shakes" and deal with those in need. But as a guy whose (just about) fit n healthy and not dying (yet) I sympathise with their priority choices.
Finally my Addison Lee cab arrives. As I hopped over in hopes I dont break my other leg, local patrons of the JJ Moons had a point and laugh.
What did bother me was that the cab driver decided to "blue light" it to the hospital...without any blue lights. A quick stern warning stolen from The Rock "know your role!" later and we were back in legal limits. Last thing I wanted was to be in another accident or a Traffic Unit doing a stop and delaying my treatment further.
Finally getting to my local Hospital. A place of salvation and despair. (If you ever been here. You'll know why)
Luck would have it. A wheelchair right by where we parked. Most likely left by an escaped patient. (Some of you laugh, others will nod in agreement).
The downside was, that a genius architect placed the entrance to the A&E on an uphill slope. And here I was. Legless in a wheelchair with no brakes.
Flopping like a salmon up stream.
A man, standing in the shadows (it was 2100hrs now) smoking away in the corner. He wore a black beanie, a dark neckerchief, black tee shirt and combat khaki shorts...my worst fears. A hipster activists.
Surely i thought "anytime now, he's gonna tell me he's vegan".
My tired arms and 1 dead leg won't be able to fight him off. He approaches me and says.
"Do you need help?".
I couldnt place the accent. But I centre myself again to the task...
"Yes please, sir" I replied politely.
Hipster activist nodded and then left the carpark. As I saw him running away, towards the motorway and possible freedom, my mind returns again..
"Probably another mental patient..."
I finally reach the pearly sliding doors. My forearms aching. The stench of Friday night bursting in. The Receptionist sees me. Looks at me dead in the eye.
She gets up and leaves. Mustve been something i said. Im directed to another, more helpful staff who then tells me wait in the corner.
I wheel past some horrors.
The room is full. Children are crying. Men are crying. Women are crying. Some are on the floor because there are no seat. Others stand around with drink in their hand. And a few familiar looking vagrants, staying in from the rain.
I find a corner to wriggle my toes in peace.
I watch the hours go by, the odd knee spasm keeping me awake. I watch Drs and Nurses End/Start their shift. People going up to the counter, complaining of a 3hr estimated wait. (which means, I'm nearly up)
Finally, I get seen. Quick assessment, Xray, Brace. Boom. Done. I'm literally done within an hour of being seen.
The consultant was also a MMA fan. I told him of the 3 BJJ comps I have in the next 2 months...he laughed, I laughed.
TL/DR: Cuts to NHS bad. Support your services. Look where you're stepping.
I am actually wondering what's for our dinner. I hope its beef steak
I'm hoarse now for fifteen days.
And without noticing it, I somehow reached a point, that it's not even annoying anymore.
It just is.
So, my tomcat might be too scared to use litter box, but wait until I open the Chinchilla cage - he can sprint and jump in (as usual...) and finally decide to have found a place to pee.
Little piece of ... cat.
I've been reading Angus Donald's "Outlaw Chronicles" for the past couple of weeks - a "historical retelling" of the Robin Hood legend. Pretty fun series, especially for fans of Cornwell-style historical fiction, but it got me wondering... from around book 5 onwards I could guess with pretty great accuracy who is going to die or how the situation is going to get worse for the heroes. How is it that predictable positive developments are derided but predictable negative developments get glossed over? Isn't there enough miserable stuff happening in the world that people need fiction to make them even more so? Or is it schadenfreude? Or perhaps it's katharsis effect - you immerse yourself in doom and gloom, and when it's over, you feel that bit better about the world around you?
Still, it was a pretty fun book series.
What's the phrase? Evey happy family is the same, but every unhappy is unhappy in their own way. I think a big benefit of having negative outcomes in fiction is that the stakes are raised. George Martin gets touted a lot as being an unpredictable writer who kills off an enormous amount of characters, but I remember thinking when reading about
Ned and Robb's death - does this still need a spoiler tag?
that there was plenty of foreshadowing before that happened. It made sense and it upped the stakes for all the other characters. You couldn't rest easy that your other characters are safe.
I knew Ned was on borrowed time the moment they cast Sean Bean for the role
I noticed a big difference since they worked off book for the recent seasons
Instead of main characters being killed off, they are put in certain mortal danger, then to be saved in some way
I still didn't watched more than the first season and should probably really do so (I read the books though), but the difference you mentioned seems to be a weird decision.
It seems a sad state of affairs when parents are advising kids to take a door stop in their backpack to school in case of a gun attack.
I happen to disagree with ol' Leo on that score; if you happen to look at a big enough sample you'll see patterns, be they happy or unhappy.
But that only works up to a point, doesn't it? After a while the reader just stops giving a damn what happens to anyone because it's just guaranteed to be unpleasant.
Well, I had that spoiled before ever starting on the books, but reading Ned's POV chapters I was asking myself "why does it sound familiar?" Then I re-read Dune for the umpteenth time and it all clicked. Hello, Duke Ned Atriedes.
Refer to my point above: after a while you can just rest easy that your characters are unsafe. I mean, apparently even soldiers in active combat zones eventually grow desenitized to constant mortal danger. What about ordinary folks sitting snug at home with a book?
I joined MAP ten years ago today. Thank you to everyone who has been gracious enough to share their knowledge, wisdom and humour with me. Here's to another great ten years.
Feel like there should be a cake...
Wait .... Why do pizzas come in square boxes but they're made as circles but they're eaten as triangles (well, nearly triangles) ??
1. So they are easier to take out, I imagine. I mean, can you imagine peeling out a round pizza out of a round box? It'd be a mess.
2. You slice it in half, then in half, then in half... you inevitably end up with triangles. Or pizza shreds. But most likely triangles, unless you're Jason Voorhees wannabe.
3. Winter break is doing wonders for my mind.
And it comes out in an oblong shape, don't forget!
Separate names with a comma.