Yes, I have "rechristened" myself to John Rumpy. This way I can go "Hello my name is John Rumpy and I'm very pleased to meet you". It's quite possibly just a phase, but the concept is cool.
I'm writing this in the wee hours of the morning, as I'm post-transatlantic transit and my daily rhythm is down the shitter. Hey, at least somehow I managed to make the to-Europe time change feel like the to-America time change, so I'm not late for everything. I'm early for everything. This is supposedly easier to deal with. It took me like four days on the other side of the pond, but I feel a little less like I got churned up in a washing machine now, so I should be okay.
Why'd I go transatlantic? Because reasons, that's why. The reasons being conference. I flew for 10 hours, spending tons of my budget to stand next to a poster demonstrating my crappy "research" for a few hours. Woop dee fucking doo. I also got to listen to others talk about their stuff, and there are tons of cool things going on. Maybe I'll apply for a spot to some of those labs, assuming I successfully finish this part of my life beforehand. Yes, I'm down in the shitter, how'd you know.
I also met a Finnish girl who was strategically positioned 3 metres from me during the poster session. She seemed just as out of place as me, and that felt nice. I don't think she's interested. I know I'm a little interested. I'll bug her a bit anyway, you never know, maybe shit will work out. I'm not sure I should even try, I'm just a waste of space, plus I don't have a good history of long distance stuff working out.
Anyway, time to get preachy and write a thing that I've been wanting to write for a while now. Think that I'm in a good position to do it now, as I seem to have freed myself quite well... namely, video games. Just like just about every other kid ever, I played some while growing up - abusing the engines of turn of the century FIFA games to do crazy shit, being quite horrible at the basic platformerness of the Nonsense games but still loving them to bits for the randomness, being quite horrible at THPS2 but still getting a kick out of it, obsessing over the original pod racer game as ZOMG POD RACERS. I was never overly addicted or anything, I had other stuff in my life.
Cue early 2012. I apply to my current university, go through the entire confusing situation, apply for a scholarship, get noped. I get depressed even by my standards and delve head first into Team Fortress 2. I play a whole lot, even after transferring to the UK - life's pretty stressful, and that helps me vent steam. Sort of. Eventually I get fed up of TF2, in no small part thanks to my difficult to work with personality resulting in lack of luck in competitive. I guess if I were a spineless git like JR I'd make it higher up and possibly still be playing like he is. Keep at it, docter - you're at nearly 3000 hours and such div1 wow. Pardon the snark, it was uncalled for. Anyway, once TF is out of the picture is where shit gets real.
For you see, TF is like going out for a beer with friends in comparison to dota. Dota is like being a twitching drug addict on a subway station floor. It's quite possibly the most addictive game in history thanks to all the heroes and whatnot, and there's always a reason to play another game after the one you just played. There's always someone to play a game with. Just one more, doing something else, or trying to redo what you just did. You lost? Well damn, you need to win to quit while ahead and feeling good! You just won? Perfect, keep up the streak!
This would result in a HUGE time-suck, and I'd spend a full time job's worth of hours playing the game. Nope, I didn't neglect my work, I'd still get everything done and keep my supervisor happy. Thing is, when not working, dota would be pretty much all I'd do. Because reality sucks and dota makes me feel better, right? Nah. It was a negative-sum mood changer, because I'd feel far worse after losing than the slight mood boost from winning. I'd play a round with a friend in the afternoon, after getting a hunk of analysis out of the way. Then I'd snap out around 3am, head reeling, countless rounds with a rotating line up later.
In the end, this is still probably better than alcoholism as I'm not destroying my internal organs with it and it doesn't deplete my financial reserve. That's not to say that gaming's good, as it's pretty much the same thing. You dive into it headfirst to escape reality being bad. Eventually you surface and reality is still bad. Dota'ing won't support you, unless you're one of the fringe cases who get to be pros, but I'm nowhere near good enough, so it won't do anything to reality apart from leeching temporal and energetic resources you could allocate somewhere else. To be quite fair, I'm not sure I'd want to live off dota anyway, even if given the possibility.
So what sort of inspired advice can I offer to those struggling with a similar sort of "fuck this gay earth" reality-escaping addiction? Well, it doesn't help. It never does. It's a sign of weakness, and it just makes you all the weaker by itself. Cold turkey the hell out of the fucker. The thing that snapped me out was my visit back home early July. I figured that my life's unhealthy, and deliberately left my mouse in the UK for the trip so I wouldn't be able to dota. Did it work out? Hell no, I found a random old horrible mouse in my Polish room and tried to dota on a few occasions on 500 ping internet. Still, I was doing all I could to quit, and eventually the itches died down to a manageable level. I went back to the UK, and I dota'd some more. Still, I was controlling myself - I wouldn't allow myself to lose track of reality, and the vacuum-like feeling of MOAR would result in me killing the game. I was managing it. And I looked around at my life and I realised I don't need it. Yes, this is an obvious realisation to make, but a groundbreaking one for someone stuck in a shithole like that.
I think that the conference helped me the most in that department, actually. I went there sans mouse again, but not consciously. I just didn't need to dota after hours. I think that this ship has finally sailed.
Is life better now? Hell no. Reality still blows. But without this gigantic time and energy suck distraction, I've got a bit more power to face it head on instead of just claiming that life sucks and firing up dota again. I won't stop life sucking. I won't stop myself hating myself for not being musician material. Still, I'm feeling a little saner and more in control with that out of the way. Will I ever dota again? Maybe with friends every now and then, but I don't really feel drawn to it. And if I do dota, I'll have to watch out to not lapse back into the shitstate, and also be weary of it showing up from other factors.
So what's up other than that? Well, as you can tell, I'm depressed. But that's the norm. The Polish girl who I accidentally met in a mall a few years ago and can't get out of my head since then changed her profile picture on Facebook. If fate were less cruel we'd both probably be happy now. I hate myself for being a spineless git, but some things eclipse the sun, especially given my current financial situation. She no longer proudly displays that she's single, so she probably found a guy. Good for her, she really deserves one. Ever since shit hit the fan I try to distract myself, get her out of my head. It's failing. Pretty much every single song I wrote since meeting her is hers one way or another. It's an incredibly touchy subject so I haven't mentioned it here before, and I probably won't again. Just a general moment of weakness. Perfect timing, I'm about to go to a group meeting and then to see my supervisor. I guess I'm due for the annual "I'm fucking worthless" breakdown in front of her. Lights, camera, action.
Other than that, I'm eating a raspberry yoghurt. Uh-huh. Jon Auer's solo record just finished. Before that, I listened to a leak of J Mascis's new one as well. Both make for a good listen in the wee hours of monday morning when you're still supposed to be asleep. I prefer the Auer one, a lot of the Mascis one is him retreading old ground, yet again. The bits and pieces that are novel are quite pleasant though.
I think that'll do it. Huge ramble out of the way. Doesn't matter, nobody reads this shit anyway, just me every few months or whenever. It's quite possible that I'll look back at this from some future time point where I've succumbed to gaming again and I'll curse myself for not having enough strength to stay out, yet being so preachy at this moment in the time-space continuum. I feel like flinging myself off a fucking cliff. Fuck everything.
4.8.14
19.2.14
The Best Curry Ever, and other stuffs
Howdy! It is I, the Rumpy, and I'm coming to you live on location in my room. In front of me, a little bit to the right, is a bowl of the most freaking amazing curry I have made in my life. So without further ado, recipe safekeeping!
Rumpy's Creamy, Yet Intense Balti
Ingredients:
1. rapeseed oil (I used some that was infused with garlic and chilli, not vital though)
2. 3 small'ish red onions, chopped (yes, I use red onions in curry, sue me)
3. 800g tomatoes, chopped
4. tsp black pepper
5. tsp cinnamon
6. tsp cardamon
7. 0.5 tsp cumin
8. tsp garam masala
9. tsp chili powder
10. 0.5 tsp salt
11. 0.5 tbsp minced garlic
12. 0.5 tbsp grated ginger
13. 3 green chillies, chopped, seeds kept
14. coriander-in-a-tube, or chopped real coriander
15. 600g chicken breast, diced
16. juice of half a lemon
17. large pot of greek-style yoghurt
How to:
1. Heat up a decent amount of rapeseed oil in a wok. I put a bit more than I'd typically use, but not enough to even cover the whole bottom of the wok. I'm not one of those "curry must be dripping in oil" type of people. Unless we're talking about butter chicken, that thing's name order of ingredients isn't accidental.
2. Fry up the onions for a moment, until they start to colour up a notch. Toss in the tomatoes and keep stirring until they start thinking about not being solid anymore (but not really fully liquid yet either). Toss in the pepper, cinnamon, cardamon, cumin, garam masala, chili powder, salt, garlic, ginger and chillies and stir for a while longer, letting the tomatoes become even more liquid.
3. Once the tomatoes are pretty liquid, add the chicken. In my case, the chicken was still a bit frozen, so I kept piling on the heated sauce on it, getting it to defrost definitely, saying stuff like "Come on, chicken!" to it, much to the dismay of a random housemate :P Keep at it until the chicken is cooked. A good hint that the chicken is cooked is that it's white all over, you don't see the pink meat. Just to be 300% sure, I kept it on the flame a few extra minutes after that.
4. Turn the heat off altogether, add the pot of yoghurt and the lemon juice and stir through. Serve with rice.
This thing is absolutely magnificent. It started out as me experimenting with a more "traditional" way to make a curry, using whole tomatoes instead of passata, and then it just took off on its own. Thanks to the tomatoes proper, the sauce is delightfully chunky, and the creaminess of the yoghurt (added right at the end to not degrade into white stuff and water) fantastically complements the not-quite-cookie-cutter spice mix and chilli heat. It's also easy to make - obviously, as it's a Rumpy cooking creation, it's a one-pot with nothing exuberant going on. Give it a try, you won't regret it.
So, since I'm already writing one of these things, other stuff? First and foremost - my old MSB friend Beckkill is coming over for a visit next week! We're going to be joined by JR and launch an ascent on Mount Good Times. I foresee a smashing success, as there's tons of bad movies and cider and cooking to be had. Beckkill's doing all sorts of tourist'y research, finding things worth seeing, the complete package more-less. Oh yeah, there's also gonna be a gig by that band I'm in.
For you see, I'm in a band now. The band members are pretty darn tight on their respective instruments, and they absolutely kill that minimalist doom death ballad I penned in 2007 and fine tuned for the Polish doom death band around 2010/2011 or so. The problem is that this is the only bit of repertoire by me, and the songs by the other guitar player are relatively stale, oh so slightly progressive hunks of thrash. As such, I don't foresee Beckkill and JR having too good a time at the gig. In order to make the time a bit less bad, I took some solo spots in some of the other songs, but I'm having trouble coming up with something meaningful to play. I'll have it figured out by gig time for sure though.
Nakpat should hopefully get going around April/May, when my good friend the other guitar player comes back from Africa. I hopefully found a singer in the one housemate I befriended, and hopefully the bass guy for the band I'm playing in now will be around to give me a hand with Nakpat as well. That leaves a drummer spot open. Hopefully all will be well.
I also recently made a pedalboard from an IKEA shelf, the cheap bastard I am. Here's how:
1. Obtain two-pack of IKEA Gorm shelves. I went for the three-plank version - it's plenty long, and the five-plank version wouldn't fit in any bag that's readily available.
2. Take one of the Gorm shelves and 3 metres of strong 50mm velcro. Stick the loop side of the velcro on the shelf. Stick little rubber feet on the other side of the shelf.
3. Take your pedals, unscrew any feet. Apply gaffer tape to bottom of pedals, apply velcro hooks to that. I don't wanna muck up my pedal with velcro residue, and gaffer comes clean off if needed. The gaffer was 50mm too, and white, making for an easy time with the velcro attachment.
4. Stick pedals on board. Profit.
This setup is good, as this way I don't gunk up my pedals with velcro residue and I get the same mileage out of this as I'd get out of any purchased flat pedalboard, at a fraction of the cost. I got a keyboard bag to lug this thing around. So far the velcro and gaffer have been working fine.
Okay, that's about it really. Progress-wise, I'm chugging away and my supervisor seems content. Mood-wise, there's good times and there's bad times, and I tend to swing between the two pretty hard-style. I woke up today with good-times vibes after a nice long sleep, then I got all depressed, then I made the curry and am feeling all great again. I don't understand the workings of my mood system. Feh. I made it so far in, I'll make it a bit further in too. So yeah, that'll be a wrap. Later!
Rumpy's Creamy, Yet Intense Balti
Ingredients:
1. rapeseed oil (I used some that was infused with garlic and chilli, not vital though)
2. 3 small'ish red onions, chopped (yes, I use red onions in curry, sue me)
3. 800g tomatoes, chopped
4. tsp black pepper
5. tsp cinnamon
6. tsp cardamon
7. 0.5 tsp cumin
8. tsp garam masala
9. tsp chili powder
10. 0.5 tsp salt
11. 0.5 tbsp minced garlic
12. 0.5 tbsp grated ginger
13. 3 green chillies, chopped, seeds kept
14. coriander-in-a-tube, or chopped real coriander
15. 600g chicken breast, diced
16. juice of half a lemon
17. large pot of greek-style yoghurt
How to:
1. Heat up a decent amount of rapeseed oil in a wok. I put a bit more than I'd typically use, but not enough to even cover the whole bottom of the wok. I'm not one of those "curry must be dripping in oil" type of people. Unless we're talking about butter chicken, that thing's name order of ingredients isn't accidental.
2. Fry up the onions for a moment, until they start to colour up a notch. Toss in the tomatoes and keep stirring until they start thinking about not being solid anymore (but not really fully liquid yet either). Toss in the pepper, cinnamon, cardamon, cumin, garam masala, chili powder, salt, garlic, ginger and chillies and stir for a while longer, letting the tomatoes become even more liquid.
3. Once the tomatoes are pretty liquid, add the chicken. In my case, the chicken was still a bit frozen, so I kept piling on the heated sauce on it, getting it to defrost definitely, saying stuff like "Come on, chicken!" to it, much to the dismay of a random housemate :P Keep at it until the chicken is cooked. A good hint that the chicken is cooked is that it's white all over, you don't see the pink meat. Just to be 300% sure, I kept it on the flame a few extra minutes after that.
4. Turn the heat off altogether, add the pot of yoghurt and the lemon juice and stir through. Serve with rice.
This thing is absolutely magnificent. It started out as me experimenting with a more "traditional" way to make a curry, using whole tomatoes instead of passata, and then it just took off on its own. Thanks to the tomatoes proper, the sauce is delightfully chunky, and the creaminess of the yoghurt (added right at the end to not degrade into white stuff and water) fantastically complements the not-quite-cookie-cutter spice mix and chilli heat. It's also easy to make - obviously, as it's a Rumpy cooking creation, it's a one-pot with nothing exuberant going on. Give it a try, you won't regret it.
So, since I'm already writing one of these things, other stuff? First and foremost - my old MSB friend Beckkill is coming over for a visit next week! We're going to be joined by JR and launch an ascent on Mount Good Times. I foresee a smashing success, as there's tons of bad movies and cider and cooking to be had. Beckkill's doing all sorts of tourist'y research, finding things worth seeing, the complete package more-less. Oh yeah, there's also gonna be a gig by that band I'm in.
For you see, I'm in a band now. The band members are pretty darn tight on their respective instruments, and they absolutely kill that minimalist doom death ballad I penned in 2007 and fine tuned for the Polish doom death band around 2010/2011 or so. The problem is that this is the only bit of repertoire by me, and the songs by the other guitar player are relatively stale, oh so slightly progressive hunks of thrash. As such, I don't foresee Beckkill and JR having too good a time at the gig. In order to make the time a bit less bad, I took some solo spots in some of the other songs, but I'm having trouble coming up with something meaningful to play. I'll have it figured out by gig time for sure though.
Nakpat should hopefully get going around April/May, when my good friend the other guitar player comes back from Africa. I hopefully found a singer in the one housemate I befriended, and hopefully the bass guy for the band I'm playing in now will be around to give me a hand with Nakpat as well. That leaves a drummer spot open. Hopefully all will be well.
I also recently made a pedalboard from an IKEA shelf, the cheap bastard I am. Here's how:
1. Obtain two-pack of IKEA Gorm shelves. I went for the three-plank version - it's plenty long, and the five-plank version wouldn't fit in any bag that's readily available.
2. Take one of the Gorm shelves and 3 metres of strong 50mm velcro. Stick the loop side of the velcro on the shelf. Stick little rubber feet on the other side of the shelf.
3. Take your pedals, unscrew any feet. Apply gaffer tape to bottom of pedals, apply velcro hooks to that. I don't wanna muck up my pedal with velcro residue, and gaffer comes clean off if needed. The gaffer was 50mm too, and white, making for an easy time with the velcro attachment.
4. Stick pedals on board. Profit.
This setup is good, as this way I don't gunk up my pedals with velcro residue and I get the same mileage out of this as I'd get out of any purchased flat pedalboard, at a fraction of the cost. I got a keyboard bag to lug this thing around. So far the velcro and gaffer have been working fine.
Okay, that's about it really. Progress-wise, I'm chugging away and my supervisor seems content. Mood-wise, there's good times and there's bad times, and I tend to swing between the two pretty hard-style. I woke up today with good-times vibes after a nice long sleep, then I got all depressed, then I made the curry and am feeling all great again. I don't understand the workings of my mood system. Feh. I made it so far in, I'll make it a bit further in too. So yeah, that'll be a wrap. Later!
12.11.13
Bonsai-Induced IKEA Nostalgia
Quite the blog post title, no?
The back story's pretty simple. One day a man arrived on campus, aiming to offload some plants on undergrads with parents with bulging wallets. There was the standard array of cacti etc, but also some mildly exuberant plants like flytraps and bonsais. A bonsai caught my eye as I was walking past, and I figured "why the hell not, I'll buy it". So why the hell not, I bought it (along with a tub of bonsai takeaway that will last the little bugger eight years) and took it home.
Guess what, the sly capitalist flower seller didn't include a base for the pot, which promptly turned out to have two holes in the bottom. It was a long day at uni, I did some work and went to the pool, so I failed to notice this minute detail straight off the bat. As such, the bonsai was living in the green bag it came with, and it was sloppily fed from a cup every Monday & Friday. On the bonsai's 13th day in my room, I decided that enough's enough and opted to roll to IKEA and get some sort of base for the pot.
First obstacle - what the hell is the size of the pot? I don't have a ruler, but my notebook's graph paper. As such, I took my graph paper notebook and rammed it against the sides of the pot, unraveling the mystery of its dimensions. Lifehack protip, kids - each one of those graph paper squares is 5 millimetres. Now you too can throw away your ruler and live the Rumpy life!
With that out of the way, I caught a bus to IKEA... and I took my time walking around the whole display, looking at things, thinking of things. IKEA's very international, and we have some elements from IKEA in Poland as well. I'm not saying the entire house is made from IKEA things, as my mom's far too aesthetic to let that thing slide, but last time around I caved and got the exact same wastepaper basket I have in both the Polish houses. No, I don't take said wastepaper basket with me when we go from one house to the other, there are two separate copies of said item. And now a third one is residing next to me. Now I caved and got some nice plates, with leaves and colours, to replace the cheepnis schmuck I've been using up to now. I'm gonna be here for two more years, may as well make the place slightly more comfy. Hence the bonsai and the nice plates. I take a weird sense of comfort from the fact that I could have gone to the IKEA which we frequent in Poland and picked up the very same plates.
I remember when I got all nostalgic the first time I went to the UK IKEA, as its overall smell and nature reminded me of the Polish one. Bot, who accompanied me for the trip, mocked me for it pretty hard. Screw him :P
I also picked up a little wooden bowl for the purpose of mixing spices easily. Reminded me a bit of the wooden bowl in which my grandparents kept walnuts and a nutcracker. The nostalgia just keeps on coming!
But wait! There's more! For whatever reason, on the bus trip home, I got nostalgic :P This time around, my thoughts carried me to the return bus trip from a ski camp in Italy which I attended around 2007 or so. Everybody was tired, I was kicking back, relaxing, one ear had Velvet Revolver's "Loving The Alien" and the other ear had a chick who was mean to me all camp long trying awkwardly to say that maybe "final impressions would count, not the first ones". I met up with the people from the ski camp by pure accident some time later on the standard mountain my family skis on, said chick wasn't present as she overslept. Someone mentioned that she wanted to go out with me. Those were the days when I still attracted females, I had a bit more hair on my head, a bit less on my face, and less fat on the gut :P for whatever reason, I reminisced about that in spite of its absolute lack of significance, with Slash's solo playing in my head. Screw the haters, Contraband had some really nice tracks. That record taught me all the basics of writing songs.
Music-wise, I'm working on Nakpat tracks, putting together a running order in my head. Some oldies, some new ones. Should be good.
Okay, time to end this. Got some pizza to attend to. My bonsai is looking menacing with a mildly asian-looking, curled-corner saucer as the base. Life's good, even though it's not really that amazing. I'm a big boy, gotta fly out of the nest, and be less self-centered about how every last thing is bad and how much I hate life and miss Poland. Gotta keep moving forward. See you all next time, and of course take care everybody.
The back story's pretty simple. One day a man arrived on campus, aiming to offload some plants on undergrads with parents with bulging wallets. There was the standard array of cacti etc, but also some mildly exuberant plants like flytraps and bonsais. A bonsai caught my eye as I was walking past, and I figured "why the hell not, I'll buy it". So why the hell not, I bought it (along with a tub of bonsai takeaway that will last the little bugger eight years) and took it home.
Guess what, the sly capitalist flower seller didn't include a base for the pot, which promptly turned out to have two holes in the bottom. It was a long day at uni, I did some work and went to the pool, so I failed to notice this minute detail straight off the bat. As such, the bonsai was living in the green bag it came with, and it was sloppily fed from a cup every Monday & Friday. On the bonsai's 13th day in my room, I decided that enough's enough and opted to roll to IKEA and get some sort of base for the pot.
First obstacle - what the hell is the size of the pot? I don't have a ruler, but my notebook's graph paper. As such, I took my graph paper notebook and rammed it against the sides of the pot, unraveling the mystery of its dimensions. Lifehack protip, kids - each one of those graph paper squares is 5 millimetres. Now you too can throw away your ruler and live the Rumpy life!
With that out of the way, I caught a bus to IKEA... and I took my time walking around the whole display, looking at things, thinking of things. IKEA's very international, and we have some elements from IKEA in Poland as well. I'm not saying the entire house is made from IKEA things, as my mom's far too aesthetic to let that thing slide, but last time around I caved and got the exact same wastepaper basket I have in both the Polish houses. No, I don't take said wastepaper basket with me when we go from one house to the other, there are two separate copies of said item. And now a third one is residing next to me. Now I caved and got some nice plates, with leaves and colours, to replace the cheepnis schmuck I've been using up to now. I'm gonna be here for two more years, may as well make the place slightly more comfy. Hence the bonsai and the nice plates. I take a weird sense of comfort from the fact that I could have gone to the IKEA which we frequent in Poland and picked up the very same plates.
I remember when I got all nostalgic the first time I went to the UK IKEA, as its overall smell and nature reminded me of the Polish one. Bot, who accompanied me for the trip, mocked me for it pretty hard. Screw him :P
I also picked up a little wooden bowl for the purpose of mixing spices easily. Reminded me a bit of the wooden bowl in which my grandparents kept walnuts and a nutcracker. The nostalgia just keeps on coming!
But wait! There's more! For whatever reason, on the bus trip home, I got nostalgic :P This time around, my thoughts carried me to the return bus trip from a ski camp in Italy which I attended around 2007 or so. Everybody was tired, I was kicking back, relaxing, one ear had Velvet Revolver's "Loving The Alien" and the other ear had a chick who was mean to me all camp long trying awkwardly to say that maybe "final impressions would count, not the first ones". I met up with the people from the ski camp by pure accident some time later on the standard mountain my family skis on, said chick wasn't present as she overslept. Someone mentioned that she wanted to go out with me. Those were the days when I still attracted females, I had a bit more hair on my head, a bit less on my face, and less fat on the gut :P for whatever reason, I reminisced about that in spite of its absolute lack of significance, with Slash's solo playing in my head. Screw the haters, Contraband had some really nice tracks. That record taught me all the basics of writing songs.
Music-wise, I'm working on Nakpat tracks, putting together a running order in my head. Some oldies, some new ones. Should be good.
Okay, time to end this. Got some pizza to attend to. My bonsai is looking menacing with a mildly asian-looking, curled-corner saucer as the base. Life's good, even though it's not really that amazing. I'm a big boy, gotta fly out of the nest, and be less self-centered about how every last thing is bad and how much I hate life and miss Poland. Gotta keep moving forward. See you all next time, and of course take care everybody.
19.9.13
Some faith in humanity restored
Well, it had to happen. The zipper in my backpack decided it needs to spice up its life and broke, rendering what once used to be a reliable source of storage into a flapping distraction completely unsuited for having anything stored within. I figured out a way to carry it around by holding it close to my chest, akin to a baby, but it's incredibly impractical, makes my back hurt for whatever reason, and would be ill-advised for the trip I'm gonna be taking tomorrow. Oh boy, the "long road" to Poland, using the further away airport. Do not want flapping backpack for this.
As such, I ditched the course I was supposed to be partaking in to find someone to fix it up for me in the city center. There was supposed to be a cobbler in the market, but no such luck. I went to the tailor I found online, and got turned down. However, the person told me of another cobbler in some other part of town, so I went there. The dude behind the register looked like your typical scenester kid - tats, the bizarre ginormous O shaped earrings, hairdo, all there. Still, he took a look at the screwed zipper, chopped off the messed up tip and installed a new one. When asked how much I owe him, he just told me to throw a pound into the charity box. I threw in two. I also gave the insufferable wailer who was banging out his greatest hits on the nearby square 50p. My backpack lives to see another day, and my perpetual, ever-advancing depression was lifted for a moment of pure feel-good.
The weather is warm and sunny, but not quite as insufferable as it was in the summer. Everything looks beautiful again, like the day I first came to the UK. It may just be my mind playing tricks on me, as I am pretty tired, like the day I came in with that 6am flight. Okay fine I was a bit more tired then. But also then the UK seemed like the beautiful land of light from a Ionesco play, and now it's merely beautiful, so it's also a step down.
I'm tired, so tired of going down... to quote Electric Six. The three complete tracks posted as previews from the new record are far superior to the unrepresentative, compressed samples from Amazon. Roll on Mustang. Peace.
As such, I ditched the course I was supposed to be partaking in to find someone to fix it up for me in the city center. There was supposed to be a cobbler in the market, but no such luck. I went to the tailor I found online, and got turned down. However, the person told me of another cobbler in some other part of town, so I went there. The dude behind the register looked like your typical scenester kid - tats, the bizarre ginormous O shaped earrings, hairdo, all there. Still, he took a look at the screwed zipper, chopped off the messed up tip and installed a new one. When asked how much I owe him, he just told me to throw a pound into the charity box. I threw in two. I also gave the insufferable wailer who was banging out his greatest hits on the nearby square 50p. My backpack lives to see another day, and my perpetual, ever-advancing depression was lifted for a moment of pure feel-good.
The weather is warm and sunny, but not quite as insufferable as it was in the summer. Everything looks beautiful again, like the day I first came to the UK. It may just be my mind playing tricks on me, as I am pretty tired, like the day I came in with that 6am flight. Okay fine I was a bit more tired then. But also then the UK seemed like the beautiful land of light from a Ionesco play, and now it's merely beautiful, so it's also a step down.
I'm tired, so tired of going down... to quote Electric Six. The three complete tracks posted as previews from the new record are far superior to the unrepresentative, compressed samples from Amazon. Roll on Mustang. Peace.
15.9.13
How to get depressed by a kindermetal song
In an attempt to distract myself from the bleakness of the surrounding reality, I started thinking what sort of musical shit I haven't listened to in a while but could get some mileage from at this point in the time-space continuum. For whatever reason, my brain went with 55 Escape. While the album and EP downed, I went to YouTube Forever, their signature tune. Still as pleasant as ever. I saw Open Your Eyes in the related vids... and remembering that I used to enjoy it back in the day, I clicked it.
Bad choice. The EP with that tune was released just as my relationship with my ex was bottoming out, and that song was a bit of a soundtrack to that. Nowhere near as much as My Love is a Knife, for example, but but it served as some sort of aural documentation of my misguided attempts to make both her and me happy somehow. This song was that - there were the nu metal elements of old (yes, I dig some nu metal, bite me), with the heavy guitars and whatnot, and there were the kindergoth elemenents with the angelic vocals and overall Evanescence-style vibe. So it was a best of both worlds. And somehow, now, listening to this track three and a half years later, I get overcome by all sorts of emotions.
Well, I wish I didn't flubbed it, in all honesty. I flubbed it hard, early, and the rest was just a long process of me ripping myself to shreds and her having to put up with it. Needless to say, in perspective I'm not all that proud of myself. But at least I'm being rekd hard by karma for this - I'm now 3.5 years older, fatter, balder and uglier, and nowhere near getting out of being single. I'm at that stage of my life that I'm becoming kind of too certain I won't find anyone. And I'm surrounded by people not being alone all around me, heck, even the other guitar dude from Nakpat has a girlfriend. He also had a charming housemate but he moved so there goes that. Not like she'd have wanted me anyway.
So yeah, just me moping over being a useless sack of shit, the usual show. This place still sucks, I've been away from home for over two months now, it's a bit much, I'm starting to walk on walls from this. I actually snapped midway through my last supervisor meeting and just bashed the crap out of myself and my work in a passive, defeatist, depressed manner. Is best manner.
Now I'm blasting's Perimeter's second record, as a demonstration of simple, testosterone-laden brutality. It's kind of working. As JR would say, fuck this gay earth. Enough moping, gotta get my shit together and last through this last week and then go home for a while.
Bad choice. The EP with that tune was released just as my relationship with my ex was bottoming out, and that song was a bit of a soundtrack to that. Nowhere near as much as My Love is a Knife, for example, but but it served as some sort of aural documentation of my misguided attempts to make both her and me happy somehow. This song was that - there were the nu metal elements of old (yes, I dig some nu metal, bite me), with the heavy guitars and whatnot, and there were the kindergoth elemenents with the angelic vocals and overall Evanescence-style vibe. So it was a best of both worlds. And somehow, now, listening to this track three and a half years later, I get overcome by all sorts of emotions.
Well, I wish I didn't flubbed it, in all honesty. I flubbed it hard, early, and the rest was just a long process of me ripping myself to shreds and her having to put up with it. Needless to say, in perspective I'm not all that proud of myself. But at least I'm being rekd hard by karma for this - I'm now 3.5 years older, fatter, balder and uglier, and nowhere near getting out of being single. I'm at that stage of my life that I'm becoming kind of too certain I won't find anyone. And I'm surrounded by people not being alone all around me, heck, even the other guitar dude from Nakpat has a girlfriend. He also had a charming housemate but he moved so there goes that. Not like she'd have wanted me anyway.
So yeah, just me moping over being a useless sack of shit, the usual show. This place still sucks, I've been away from home for over two months now, it's a bit much, I'm starting to walk on walls from this. I actually snapped midway through my last supervisor meeting and just bashed the crap out of myself and my work in a passive, defeatist, depressed manner. Is best manner.
Now I'm blasting's Perimeter's second record, as a demonstration of simple, testosterone-laden brutality. It's kind of working. As JR would say, fuck this gay earth. Enough moping, gotta get my shit together and last through this last week and then go home for a while.
9.7.13
The most happiest day
Today, I had one of those days that feel amazing from start to finish. You know the type.
Was off to visit a friend in a nearby city. A friend of said friend tagged along. We had spot-on sushi, three good beers per head (good beer, coming from Rumpy, means the beer was 100% un-bitter, more-less), we saw a mediocre yet amusing zombie flick by the name of World War Z, a surprisingly satisfying kebab, and we screwed around playing free foosball in a pub afterwards. The weather was great - warm, but not too hot, and there were plenty of good-looking girls around. The banter was ever-flowing, never stopping, and ranged from serious stuff to off the wall silliness. Some highlights include showing off our foreign student IDs to the bewildered yet cooperative cinema clerk, offering up Getting Rekd 101: The Illustrated Guide in foosball in spite of getting 2v1'd, and historical banter about the interactions of Nordic and Baltic countries.
I could probably write more. It's just proof that the beautiful moments in life are really great, and well worth it once they finally show up. Hopefully good times lie ahead, and I'll have tons of those type of days. Signing out. Gotta enjoy the last bits of my mountain stay before I'm back to the UK. It's gonna be a busy summer. Two statistics courses, finishing the paper, making an algorithm to get some sort of rational (hopefully biological enough) conclusions... I think I'll manage though.
Was off to visit a friend in a nearby city. A friend of said friend tagged along. We had spot-on sushi, three good beers per head (good beer, coming from Rumpy, means the beer was 100% un-bitter, more-less), we saw a mediocre yet amusing zombie flick by the name of World War Z, a surprisingly satisfying kebab, and we screwed around playing free foosball in a pub afterwards. The weather was great - warm, but not too hot, and there were plenty of good-looking girls around. The banter was ever-flowing, never stopping, and ranged from serious stuff to off the wall silliness. Some highlights include showing off our foreign student IDs to the bewildered yet cooperative cinema clerk, offering up Getting Rekd 101: The Illustrated Guide in foosball in spite of getting 2v1'd, and historical banter about the interactions of Nordic and Baltic countries.
I could probably write more. It's just proof that the beautiful moments in life are really great, and well worth it once they finally show up. Hopefully good times lie ahead, and I'll have tons of those type of days. Signing out. Gotta enjoy the last bits of my mountain stay before I'm back to the UK. It's gonna be a busy summer. Two statistics courses, finishing the paper, making an algorithm to get some sort of rational (hopefully biological enough) conclusions... I think I'll manage though.
6.6.13
The Vicious Cycle Of Depression || Rumpy & The Ladies
Yknow what's funny? When I get depressed, I stop being able to do anything, more less. As in - I can do work and stuff from the confines of my room, but even going to the shop becomes a challenge. As such, I become immobilised. As a result of that, I become even more depressed. Rinse, repeat, thrombophlebitis at the ripe old age of 23. Well fuck. During my last visit home, my mom managed to finally motivate me to plant that well-needed kick on my ass and start moving again, go to the pool and stuff.
Still, the split second I get lazy or whatever, the vicious cycle will set in again, woohoo. I'll try to just keep it going. I'll have it easier when I move on campus for the summer.
Anyway, continuing the post - I went to the pool today. Was neat. Did half a kilometre without stopping once. Not that impressive, I know, but I'm a fat bastard, so it's pretty neat for me. Afterwards I could barely move, but it was extremely rewarding. So I was on the bus stop dying, and in walks a neat-o lady. Like 90% of the ladies I find attractive, she was caucasian, callipygous and dark-haired. And she got on the same bus as me.
Well, dandy. I spent the first half of the bus ride motivating myself to get off my ass and go to her and start up a chat. No stupid pick-up lines, no nothing, just blunt honesty. Ay you, you caught my eye at the bus stop, my name is Rumpy and I'm very pleased to meet you. What do I get to know about her? Nothing at all. Hell, even if I'd met her at a Dinosaur Jr gig or whatever it wouldn't necessarily mean she enjoys Dinosaur Jr. All I have that I can go from is the way she looks, and anybody with half a brain will know it and understand it and the getting to know each other part starts, maybe resulting in something pretty damn interesting.
After much repeating of "dude, sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at something" in my head, I charged in. Of course, no ordered sentence came out. Just some random blabber, I think I pronounced "eye" right and that's that. Typical British courtesy upon my arrival quickly turned into a prompt "well, I'm minding my own business" ice-cold reply and turning away. Back to the drawing board. First step to being kind of good at something, long journey ahead of me.
No Cooking with Rumpy this time, go order a pizza or something. I need to wallow in self-pity over how bad I am with the ladies kthx.
Still, the split second I get lazy or whatever, the vicious cycle will set in again, woohoo. I'll try to just keep it going. I'll have it easier when I move on campus for the summer.
Anyway, continuing the post - I went to the pool today. Was neat. Did half a kilometre without stopping once. Not that impressive, I know, but I'm a fat bastard, so it's pretty neat for me. Afterwards I could barely move, but it was extremely rewarding. So I was on the bus stop dying, and in walks a neat-o lady. Like 90% of the ladies I find attractive, she was caucasian, callipygous and dark-haired. And she got on the same bus as me.
Well, dandy. I spent the first half of the bus ride motivating myself to get off my ass and go to her and start up a chat. No stupid pick-up lines, no nothing, just blunt honesty. Ay you, you caught my eye at the bus stop, my name is Rumpy and I'm very pleased to meet you. What do I get to know about her? Nothing at all. Hell, even if I'd met her at a Dinosaur Jr gig or whatever it wouldn't necessarily mean she enjoys Dinosaur Jr. All I have that I can go from is the way she looks, and anybody with half a brain will know it and understand it and the getting to know each other part starts, maybe resulting in something pretty damn interesting.
After much repeating of "dude, sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at something" in my head, I charged in. Of course, no ordered sentence came out. Just some random blabber, I think I pronounced "eye" right and that's that. Typical British courtesy upon my arrival quickly turned into a prompt "well, I'm minding my own business" ice-cold reply and turning away. Back to the drawing board. First step to being kind of good at something, long journey ahead of me.
No Cooking with Rumpy this time, go order a pizza or something. I need to wallow in self-pity over how bad I am with the ladies kthx.
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