Delta-4477 : Beyond The Blue

The bloody weather.

It burns.

Oh, it burns.

// Faze
I know now why my blog posts are quite as inconsistent as they are: I simply do not parse them in the manner that is appropriate.

I rip a particularly interesting thought out from my mind and put it into words. Without the context, without the relevance, and usually without the cohesion.

While my focused attention is segmented and attributed when needed, the underlying…transporter, thoughts, are constantly streaming underneath. It gives the theme to the concept, the framework to the idea, the sense to the abstraction.

So I guess this blog of mine does actually serve the purpose I intend it to: an abstraction-scratchpad.

//Muse – New Born

This goes out to two particular lovelorn/love-“shorn” acquaintances of mine:

There was once a sailor aboard a ship.

The aforementioned ship sailed smack dab into the eye of the storm.

Having assessed the damage to the ship, the ship’s master (Captain) called for an ordered abandonment of the stricken vessel.

Bearing in mind this was in the middle of a storm,

One energetic sailor put on her life-vest, and lashed herself to the frame of the modernized lifeboat (The ones with inboards)

Her fellow shipmates did the same, but they chose to carry their survival kit* instead of lashing themselves to the lifeboat.

Well and good. The lifeboat was launched from the ship.

Shortly thereafter, the storm shifted, carrying the half-capsized ship with it.

The surviving sailors clustered aboard the lifeboat, watching the horrifying waves pound relentless into the raging ocean surface.

To their horror, a particularly large wave hurtled towards them.

The small lifeboat was deemed as more hazardous to their survival than facilitative.

Being sea-smart sailors, all of them lashed their survival kits to themselves, added an extra life-vest, and leapt into the raging ocean.

Not this one sailor. The one who lashed herself to the lifeboat’s framework.

Her concerned shipmates yelled at her to unlash herself, grab a survival kit and jump overboard.

She refused.

To her, that one lucky chance of survival was probably the only chance she would ever get at surviving the storm.

She had steadfast, stubborn belief that the lifeboat, shorn of all extra weight, would be able to weather the rogue wave.

Be it from inexperience or lack of good judgment, she failed to realize that a boat with such a shallow draft would not ride the wave smoothly.

Rather, it would loop-the-loop with the wave, or worse, be pounded to pieces in one swift smash as the wave, several tens of metres high of solid sheet water, smashed into the tiny boat.

By the time her basic human survival instincts kicked in, she realized that the lifeboat could never conceivably ride the wave as she had desperately hoped it would.

She tried to unlash herself from the framework.

She nearly succeeded.

Nearly.

The wave smashed into the boat, knocking her unconscious (and to her senses at last).

She survived, as did all her other shipmates.

The difference?

She was scarred all over, with deep gashes, broken limbs, and a terrifying near-death experience.

Was she wiser after that? Definitely.

But was it worth it? Time will tell.

//

Moral of the story?

To climb up the ladder, one must first let go of the first rung you gripped to get on the ladder in the first place.

Nah, not really.

The real moral of the story:

The wisest decision isn’t always the most obvious or the easiest.

For two of my associates who have been subject to recent break-ups

At this age: priorities.

Hooking up, the serious type, requires that consideration be given to the aspect of priorities.

The question I have is: Where do you stand on the scale of her priorities?

The answer to that one question, regardless of what it is, will tell you a lot about the state of your relationship.

I once mused, that it was troubling to have foresight. You could see the outcome, but not the process.

It still is troubling.

Clone troopers. No muss, no fuss, just duty.

How I long for the ability to maximize my performance or die. Literally die. Not a metaphorical Malaysian “death”.

End of existence. A blaster shot to the head. A thermal detonator at arm’s length. Whichever leaves me stone dead.

At least I wouldn’t have to face the shame of living to see a mistake go down in history.

The Kaminoans terminated defective clones. Why am I still here?

…where I usually start getting all sentimentally reflective. Not this time around though. Why? I think I really made my own road through things. PR, Psych, Statistics even, I think I walked the line pretty damned good.

//Grand Theft Auto IV
No major review this time, just a quick snippet. Boy oh boy, is that game ever resource-hungry. Even a C2D and an above-average GFX card barely cut it above the lowest of the low-settings. Oh well, this only goes to show that…I need to worry less about getting a good game run and more about the essentials in life.

I *still* find the lack of a good first-person movement system for GTA a major annoyance. Who the hell rolls downhill for roughly 100 yards? Throw your bloody arms out and stop the F-ing roll!

Oh oh, did I mention that pulling people out of cars are simultaneously a much greater thrill and a much greater annoyance? No matter. Experience it.

//

On a side note, I may just let loose a frustration-ridden rant about certain people regarding certain issues.