The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
I sometimes wonder if I should bother replying to something. After all, everyone knows what my feelings on that subject are anyway.
It's like with Goatboy's morons and red tape topic. I read it, and fully agreed with him. He basically said all I wanted to, but I replied anyway just to show I had read it.
Have finally, after, what is it, two years, have I finally become bored with having my say?
Like hell.
For all I've wrote, for all I say, for all I do, and for all I want, I will never stop thinking. And as long as I think, I have the urge to get whatever does enter my head, out of my head, and somehow onto something else.
This year I've started keeping a notepad. I think so much, and have so many ideas, that I forget half of them because I never write them down. Thinking is a spur of the moment thing, and you can never rely on your own mind to remember every last damn visual detail, unfortunatly.
But thinking is a problem for me, a huge problem. Because when people don't communicate to me properly, or I'm reading a book that bores me because the writer is a talentless moron... I drift off into my own thoughts. I used to think it was because I get bored easily. That's true, very true, but why have to settle for uninspiring pap that wasn't written for comfort's sake?
Today, during maths. I take out my books, paper, pen. I really get myself going for a lesson, that I really, REALLY need to do.
And then, for some reason, it's an hour later. The paper is still empty, sans a detail sketch of an eye, and I realised I've done nothing but think for the past hour, which to me has past in seconds. And I can't even tell you what I was thinking about.
One of my earliest memories is from my first school. I was sent down a grade for a day, because I constantly daydreamed. I couldn't concentrate for a second on the maths, or the skills exercises... and I would just sit there and think. First I was moved away from the rest of the class, and told to sit in the corner. When it happened again, I was moved out of the class. I remember crying a bit as I had to go and sit down in the other class, but they were doing this cool thing with using this purple stuff to show up plague in the mouth, which was much more interesting, so I quickly recovered.
At the time, it meant little to me, I think. But now, looking back, I understand more.
But I'm not sure what it is, and I know it isn't just me that suffers from it. I think too much.
And so all the teachers would say in my reports "could be a star pupil if he put his mind to it". But I got A's across the board anyway... at GCSE level. Not boasting, you know my feelings about exams.
And at one case, it really was a case of "you can do it if you put your mind to it", but now, it's more "what do I want to put my mind to?"
No longer do I want to be shoved around, and told what to learn. I've had enough time to think, although averagely I shouldn't, and I will not be told to back down. I refuse to take the life that so many have led, and I refuse to never be known for what I stand for, what I want to achieve, and for what I believe.
But nobody will listen, nobody who could help me an inch listens. You're either human or you aren't, apparently.
And naturally, deep inside me is that horrible little voice that says "you're just like the rest, everyone thinks this way"... but I know that's not true, and a few more of the voices agree with me.
For years I couldn't really see myself as special, I couldn't really see why I was different to the rest, and why they wouldn't let me join in with the games...
*cough*
I'm mad, I know. I can't share drinks with people without throwing a hissy fit, I can't speak properly and I eat slower than Ant types. :0)
I'm as skinny as hell, and every now and again I see things that aren't there, stuff that I still don't want to talk about.
I have amnesia, I say things that I understand clearly, but others have difficulty understanding, and then *I* can't understand why people can't understand what I'm going on about and it all goes around in one big monged table tennis. And I'm scared stiff of eyes, and 80's television adverts. But that's a new topic.
Example of me not being understood, simple as it is. First aid in the sea. You're dragging a casualty to shore, what next?
I say, half thinking: "Call to the woman walking the dog."
And if you understand that, then you understand what my minds really like. It's not hard.
But everyone in the damn room went "ugh?".
"Call to the woman walking the dog, you know, so she can go and get some help."
I had just pictured myself swimming out and dragging this person in, and I looked on the beach for help. The first and only person I saw, was a woman walking a dog.
Even after explaining this, they didn't fully understand.
And that's what gets me all the damn time. I wish, just for once, I didn't have to explain myself. If people could just look at what I do, or what I say, and understand it.
But people are so pathetic, in general. They communicate by speech, and they know no other way. Smiles are myths, winking is a taboo, and anything else is pointless. If words don't have mathematical structures that form sentances that in turn create information, they make no sense. Horrible horrible logical worlds that make me want to run and hide.
We're all emotionless souls trapped in a land where we're forced to ponder over everything we've done wrong so we don't commit suicide too soon.
My nickname is Monkey, and to be fair, it's not used as often as it was. I don't like having a nickname, and I was asked why today.
I replied: "Oh, oh dear. Darren's died... you remember Darren?"
"Who?" I say. I do stuff like this a lot for some reason, it's the thinking again. I really do talk to my brain, you know, I didn't make it up to be funny, it just helps me to think clearly. And yes, he does swear at me for messing up. And I swear back at him and tell him it isn't my fault. In my head, of course. I've got more common sense than you may know. :0)
"You know, Darren. Monkey."
"Oh! Monkey. Monkey's died? Oh dear."
And it was what my friend replied that started me off on this topic.
"You don't think like that all the time, do you?"
My good friend is very much like me. We've both been kinda secluded away for a long time, and we both have the same visual sense of humour. He would understand the woman walking a dog thing straight away, because that's probably what he would have seen too.
I'm lucky to have a friend like that, and I know he thinks as much as I do. He does art, and I love the stuff he does there. Wish I'd taken art, instead of maths.
---------------------
What you've just read is an example of what I think on a daily basis. I post it because it clears my mind. That's why I write topics, and that's why I post. All I'm doing is getting thoughts out of my head so perhaps for a few seconds I can hear my voice echo through my skull when I think.
But it never works. Never. For every time I post, more thoughts come along, and drown me in my great big tub of stuff I really should be doing.
But I can't do anything. I think too much.
There was a time where I wanted to silence the voices. Where they had driven me so far I couldn't cope with it. Nothing will ever come, and nothing will ever be of it. For all I do is think, and I daydream, and I never work to my potential because of it. The voices hound me, and I can't work because of them, I'm a failure.
But my thoughts are there for a reason. Why the hell would I want to silence them?
A quick ease away from them is wonderful... like someone opening my skull and taking my brain for a walk. But I don't want to silence them anymore. I enjoy their company, and I love what they do for me.
"No! Don't write that! Write this!"
I'm insane, but I can cope. I'm mad, but I benefit from it. I finally understand why the thin line lies between geniuses and the insane. It's a term of success, communication, and how well they can live with their constantly mumbling minds.
Am I a genius? Mensa say no. They say I'm borderline, so I've got it easy. Oddly enough though, I found myself daydreaming when I was doing my Mensa test... :0)
So what's left for me? I can't do maths, I can't do logical puzzles for a long time... but I can think. Boy, can I think.
I won't say "I could think all day", because that's what I do. Everything, every little detail is an art, every misplaced angle, and everything that makes no sense logically belongs in my mind, only to be dissected by the brilliant team behind the scenes that you never see.
And as long as I keep thinking, I want to keep creating. Keep those little brain walks going, and a sense of gratitude for finally creating something I need to, instead of dulling my mind with the never ending branches of the money tree.
And suddenly, I've got so much to live for. I've got a lust for life that's come out of nowhere, and when I say nowhere, I mean more than meaning 1).
I truly understand what life is, and it pains me to see so many people trying to convince me otherwise, when they're obviously so very naive for their age.
Age doesn't bring intelligence people, it brings acceptance. The worst word in the English language.
The word for giving up hope, the word that forces us to rest our eyes, and stop fighting for what we truly believe.
But as long as we keep thinking, we'll do fine.
And if you read all that, I'm better than I think. :0)
It's like with Goatboy's morons and red tape topic. I read it, and fully agreed with him. He basically said all I wanted to, but I replied anyway just to show I had read it.
Have finally, after, what is it, two years, have I finally become bored with having my say?
Like hell.
For all I've wrote, for all I say, for all I do, and for all I want, I will never stop thinking. And as long as I think, I have the urge to get whatever does enter my head, out of my head, and somehow onto something else.
This year I've started keeping a notepad. I think so much, and have so many ideas, that I forget half of them because I never write them down. Thinking is a spur of the moment thing, and you can never rely on your own mind to remember every last damn visual detail, unfortunatly.
But thinking is a problem for me, a huge problem. Because when people don't communicate to me properly, or I'm reading a book that bores me because the writer is a talentless moron... I drift off into my own thoughts. I used to think it was because I get bored easily. That's true, very true, but why have to settle for uninspiring pap that wasn't written for comfort's sake?
Today, during maths. I take out my books, paper, pen. I really get myself going for a lesson, that I really, REALLY need to do.
And then, for some reason, it's an hour later. The paper is still empty, sans a detail sketch of an eye, and I realised I've done nothing but think for the past hour, which to me has past in seconds. And I can't even tell you what I was thinking about.
One of my earliest memories is from my first school. I was sent down a grade for a day, because I constantly daydreamed. I couldn't concentrate for a second on the maths, or the skills exercises... and I would just sit there and think. First I was moved away from the rest of the class, and told to sit in the corner. When it happened again, I was moved out of the class. I remember crying a bit as I had to go and sit down in the other class, but they were doing this cool thing with using this purple stuff to show up plague in the mouth, which was much more interesting, so I quickly recovered.
At the time, it meant little to me, I think. But now, looking back, I understand more.
But I'm not sure what it is, and I know it isn't just me that suffers from it. I think too much.
And so all the teachers would say in my reports "could be a star pupil if he put his mind to it". But I got A's across the board anyway... at GCSE level. Not boasting, you know my feelings about exams.
And at one case, it really was a case of "you can do it if you put your mind to it", but now, it's more "what do I want to put my mind to?"
No longer do I want to be shoved around, and told what to learn. I've had enough time to think, although averagely I shouldn't, and I will not be told to back down. I refuse to take the life that so many have led, and I refuse to never be known for what I stand for, what I want to achieve, and for what I believe.
But nobody will listen, nobody who could help me an inch listens. You're either human or you aren't, apparently.
And naturally, deep inside me is that horrible little voice that says "you're just like the rest, everyone thinks this way"... but I know that's not true, and a few more of the voices agree with me.
For years I couldn't really see myself as special, I couldn't really see why I was different to the rest, and why they wouldn't let me join in with the games...
*cough*
I'm mad, I know. I can't share drinks with people without throwing a hissy fit, I can't speak properly and I eat slower than Ant types. :0)
I'm as skinny as hell, and every now and again I see things that aren't there, stuff that I still don't want to talk about.
I have amnesia, I say things that I understand clearly, but others have difficulty understanding, and then *I* can't understand why people can't understand what I'm going on about and it all goes around in one big monged table tennis. And I'm scared stiff of eyes, and 80's television adverts. But that's a new topic.
Example of me not being understood, simple as it is. First aid in the sea. You're dragging a casualty to shore, what next?
I say, half thinking: "Call to the woman walking the dog."
And if you understand that, then you understand what my minds really like. It's not hard.
But everyone in the damn room went "ugh?".
"Call to the woman walking the dog, you know, so she can go and get some help."
I had just pictured myself swimming out and dragging this person in, and I looked on the beach for help. The first and only person I saw, was a woman walking a dog.
Even after explaining this, they didn't fully understand.
And that's what gets me all the damn time. I wish, just for once, I didn't have to explain myself. If people could just look at what I do, or what I say, and understand it.
But people are so pathetic, in general. They communicate by speech, and they know no other way. Smiles are myths, winking is a taboo, and anything else is pointless. If words don't have mathematical structures that form sentances that in turn create information, they make no sense. Horrible horrible logical worlds that make me want to run and hide.
We're all emotionless souls trapped in a land where we're forced to ponder over everything we've done wrong so we don't commit suicide too soon.
My nickname is Monkey, and to be fair, it's not used as often as it was. I don't like having a nickname, and I was asked why today.
I replied: "Oh, oh dear. Darren's died... you remember Darren?"
"Who?" I say. I do stuff like this a lot for some reason, it's the thinking again. I really do talk to my brain, you know, I didn't make it up to be funny, it just helps me to think clearly. And yes, he does swear at me for messing up. And I swear back at him and tell him it isn't my fault. In my head, of course. I've got more common sense than you may know. :0)
"You know, Darren. Monkey."
"Oh! Monkey. Monkey's died? Oh dear."
And it was what my friend replied that started me off on this topic.
"You don't think like that all the time, do you?"
My good friend is very much like me. We've both been kinda secluded away for a long time, and we both have the same visual sense of humour. He would understand the woman walking a dog thing straight away, because that's probably what he would have seen too.
I'm lucky to have a friend like that, and I know he thinks as much as I do. He does art, and I love the stuff he does there. Wish I'd taken art, instead of maths.
---------------------
What you've just read is an example of what I think on a daily basis. I post it because it clears my mind. That's why I write topics, and that's why I post. All I'm doing is getting thoughts out of my head so perhaps for a few seconds I can hear my voice echo through my skull when I think.
But it never works. Never. For every time I post, more thoughts come along, and drown me in my great big tub of stuff I really should be doing.
But I can't do anything. I think too much.
There was a time where I wanted to silence the voices. Where they had driven me so far I couldn't cope with it. Nothing will ever come, and nothing will ever be of it. For all I do is think, and I daydream, and I never work to my potential because of it. The voices hound me, and I can't work because of them, I'm a failure.
But my thoughts are there for a reason. Why the hell would I want to silence them?
A quick ease away from them is wonderful... like someone opening my skull and taking my brain for a walk. But I don't want to silence them anymore. I enjoy their company, and I love what they do for me.
"No! Don't write that! Write this!"
I'm insane, but I can cope. I'm mad, but I benefit from it. I finally understand why the thin line lies between geniuses and the insane. It's a term of success, communication, and how well they can live with their constantly mumbling minds.
Am I a genius? Mensa say no. They say I'm borderline, so I've got it easy. Oddly enough though, I found myself daydreaming when I was doing my Mensa test... :0)
So what's left for me? I can't do maths, I can't do logical puzzles for a long time... but I can think. Boy, can I think.
I won't say "I could think all day", because that's what I do. Everything, every little detail is an art, every misplaced angle, and everything that makes no sense logically belongs in my mind, only to be dissected by the brilliant team behind the scenes that you never see.
And as long as I keep thinking, I want to keep creating. Keep those little brain walks going, and a sense of gratitude for finally creating something I need to, instead of dulling my mind with the never ending branches of the money tree.
And suddenly, I've got so much to live for. I've got a lust for life that's come out of nowhere, and when I say nowhere, I mean more than meaning 1).
I truly understand what life is, and it pains me to see so many people trying to convince me otherwise, when they're obviously so very naive for their age.
Age doesn't bring intelligence people, it brings acceptance. The worst word in the English language.
The word for giving up hope, the word that forces us to rest our eyes, and stop fighting for what we truly believe.
But as long as we keep thinking, we'll do fine.
And if you read all that, I'm better than I think. :0)
Page:
Grix, I got that woman walking the dog thing. I don't really think that's how my mind would work, but it made sense to me.
Anyway, the school thing... I don't like school. Most people just say they don't like school, but they usually have some part of it they like. The only part I like is being with some of the other people at school. I don't actually *like* any subjects. Thyere are subjects that I don't really mind because I can find some interest in them, or because I am good at them, but I don't really like any subjects. And I don't like English. In English your told to read someone elses work, carefully dissect it and say why you liked it. In an exam, if you say you didn't like a piece the examiner apparently just gives you a bad mark. We were told you should just say you do like the piece, as that way you're much more likely to get a good mark. I'm still not sure whether I'll lie come the exam. If I do like it fine. But first off, I don't see why I should have to pretend I like something if I don't. Just because some examiner thinks they hold the definitive answer to whether something is good or not why should I have to agree with them. Likes and dislikes are opinions, not facts, so howcome in English they are treated like fact. Also, if I do like something I'm not always going to be able to describe why. Take the example of games, and Nintendo, whose games I know well. Most people can't describe what was specifically good about a great game. People often say Nintendo have that 'Nintendo magic' because they don't know how else to describe what was good about the game. It's the same with a lot of things. I may not be able to put my finger on exactly why I liked something.
Anyway, enough of my ranting. Keep being creative.
Anyway, the school thing... I don't like school. Most people just say they don't like school, but they usually have some part of it they like. The only part I like is being with some of the other people at school. I don't actually *like* any subjects. Thyere are subjects that I don't really mind because I can find some interest in them, or because I am good at them, but I don't really like any subjects. And I don't like English. In English your told to read someone elses work, carefully dissect it and say why you liked it. In an exam, if you say you didn't like a piece the examiner apparently just gives you a bad mark. We were told you should just say you do like the piece, as that way you're much more likely to get a good mark. I'm still not sure whether I'll lie come the exam. If I do like it fine. But first off, I don't see why I should have to pretend I like something if I don't. Just because some examiner thinks they hold the definitive answer to whether something is good or not why should I have to agree with them. Likes and dislikes are opinions, not facts, so howcome in English they are treated like fact. Also, if I do like something I'm not always going to be able to describe why. Take the example of games, and Nintendo, whose games I know well. Most people can't describe what was specifically good about a great game. People often say Nintendo have that 'Nintendo magic' because they don't know how else to describe what was good about the game. It's the same with a lot of things. I may not be able to put my finger on exactly why I liked something.
Anyway, enough of my ranting. Keep being creative.
Qwerty
Hell yes.
No no no RBS, I think you writing all that helps because now we all know a little more about you but it has also helped you get a few things and thoughts off your chest and I think that's exactly what Grix wants us to do.
He does it all the time.
He does it all the time.
Yup, I read all that. And was blown away by it. And I can't really describe why.
The thing is, in school I don't get to do what I want. I'm forced to stick to lines that I don't want to stick to. Per Example, English. It's my favourite subject by a long way, and my teacher thinks I'm a fantastic student but he is narked by the fact that I NEVER concentrate in class, but am still able to turn in homework of the highest standard. Most of the time I don't actually try with my essays though, when I really excel is when I get asked to write poems or a bit of creative writing. I can't think of any way better to express myself than through poems and creative writing.
But my teacher can't seem to understand that I know most of what he's teaching me, and so get's hissed off with me. But then gives me a bloody commendation when I hand in my homework.
I hate the fact that i have to "comform" in school. School is one of the most important parts of your life, in my opinion it is anyway. Not because we learn there, but because, on the whole, we grow up there. School for me isn't all about learning, not by a long shot. It's about developing your personality, learning about yourself and a hundred or so other things that have sod all to do with education.
And I hate it when teachers don't understand this.
"Chris, where's your homework?"
"I haven't done it"
"Why not?"
"Because I was doing something more important"
"Oh really, and what was that?"
"I was having fun with my friends and writing a poem"
"And that's more important than your education?"
"At this moment in time, yes, actually it is"
This exchange did actually take place last term, I got bollcocked and given a detention for it, but ever since the teacher who I said it to has seemed to respect me more, and not actually care that much when I don't hand in a homework when it's due.
I daydream in school. In Maths especially, I'm good at it, but I hate it. I usually end up drawing scenes from my minds eye from the story I'm writing. Or start writing down snatches of phrases that suddenly come into my head that would fit into a poem. And the really odd thing is, that after I've suddenly realised that I've been daydreaming for 20 minutes, I can't remember what the hell I was daydreaming about or what I was thinking during that time. All I've got left of that 20 minutes are the phrases I wrote down in my excerise book and the doodles of The River Faroe that I drew.
When I'm supposed to be learning about the digestive tract, polypeptides and chyme, I'm usually writing my English homework. Because I lvoe doing it. which is odd and totally off subject and out of context.
Anyway, when I'm supposed to be learning, I usually am letting my mind wander. I start thinking about interesting things, like the recent theory that all phobias come from a prehistoric instinct and whether or not God exists and if he does, does he have a wife? Who was God's dad? Where di he come from?
I seem... sort of normal on here, but if you met me you would realise that I'm not. I interject in conversations with totally TOTALLY irrelevent points which my friends who don't actually understand me at all don't get. I have great friends, they're a fantastic laugh but they aren't as clever as me, to put it bluntly. (I know I sound big-headed there) That's great, I don't want to be 'clever' all the time, sometimes I just wanna relax and talk total crap, but other times I really feel like I need a mate that I can discuss odd theories with and that I can tell anything to... Again totally irrelevant. Sorry.
Apparently I only reach my 'full potential' in two subjects. English and Science. Those are my two favourite subjects. In the rest of them, I show flashes but half the time I just can't be bothered with them or just am not intersted at all. My teachers have kinda gotten used to me and know when to just leave me alone, because they do know that I am listening and learning, but that I don't actually care. Strange. Anyway, end of year exams last year. I had good results. 90%+ in all subjects bar History and Geography. But the thing is, all of my teachers knew that I could of got 95%+ in ALL subjects. 'If he applied himself'. Sod off.
I've been described as 'reluctantly clever' which basically means that I know I'm clever but don't want to look to be. And that is TOTAL b******s. True, sometimes I don't wish to be, but I never don't want to look to be. I've put that wrong. Ah who cares. Basically, I want to be clever because I know it helps me, but sometimes I just wanna get away from the pressure teachers put on me to achieve my full funning potential.
I want to be a journalist because I love writing. I really really love it. I couldn't be a writer though because I never get long projects finished even when I want to. (Example: The Plunder Of Mt Easee, I finished it a year and 9 days after I first started it, and it wasn't even that long!) So I want to write for a magazine. A games magazine if possible. But any form of journalism would be fine for me.
I'm thin as hell too, due half to a disease and half to the fact that I'm small anyway (5 ft). I get the hiss ripped out of me by a few people for the fact that I have a disease and that I'm small. And again that's totally irrelevant.
In fact this whole sodding post has nothing to do with your post, Grix.
That was a stream of conciousness that whole post... Just stuff I had to get out of my system. Sorry for it not having ANYTHING to do with anything else in this thread...
The thing is, in school I don't get to do what I want. I'm forced to stick to lines that I don't want to stick to. Per Example, English. It's my favourite subject by a long way, and my teacher thinks I'm a fantastic student but he is narked by the fact that I NEVER concentrate in class, but am still able to turn in homework of the highest standard. Most of the time I don't actually try with my essays though, when I really excel is when I get asked to write poems or a bit of creative writing. I can't think of any way better to express myself than through poems and creative writing.
But my teacher can't seem to understand that I know most of what he's teaching me, and so get's hissed off with me. But then gives me a bloody commendation when I hand in my homework.
I hate the fact that i have to "comform" in school. School is one of the most important parts of your life, in my opinion it is anyway. Not because we learn there, but because, on the whole, we grow up there. School for me isn't all about learning, not by a long shot. It's about developing your personality, learning about yourself and a hundred or so other things that have sod all to do with education.
And I hate it when teachers don't understand this.
"Chris, where's your homework?"
"I haven't done it"
"Why not?"
"Because I was doing something more important"
"Oh really, and what was that?"
"I was having fun with my friends and writing a poem"
"And that's more important than your education?"
"At this moment in time, yes, actually it is"
This exchange did actually take place last term, I got bollcocked and given a detention for it, but ever since the teacher who I said it to has seemed to respect me more, and not actually care that much when I don't hand in a homework when it's due.
I daydream in school. In Maths especially, I'm good at it, but I hate it. I usually end up drawing scenes from my minds eye from the story I'm writing. Or start writing down snatches of phrases that suddenly come into my head that would fit into a poem. And the really odd thing is, that after I've suddenly realised that I've been daydreaming for 20 minutes, I can't remember what the hell I was daydreaming about or what I was thinking during that time. All I've got left of that 20 minutes are the phrases I wrote down in my excerise book and the doodles of The River Faroe that I drew.
When I'm supposed to be learning about the digestive tract, polypeptides and chyme, I'm usually writing my English homework. Because I lvoe doing it. which is odd and totally off subject and out of context.
Anyway, when I'm supposed to be learning, I usually am letting my mind wander. I start thinking about interesting things, like the recent theory that all phobias come from a prehistoric instinct and whether or not God exists and if he does, does he have a wife? Who was God's dad? Where di he come from?
I seem... sort of normal on here, but if you met me you would realise that I'm not. I interject in conversations with totally TOTALLY irrelevent points which my friends who don't actually understand me at all don't get. I have great friends, they're a fantastic laugh but they aren't as clever as me, to put it bluntly. (I know I sound big-headed there) That's great, I don't want to be 'clever' all the time, sometimes I just wanna relax and talk total crap, but other times I really feel like I need a mate that I can discuss odd theories with and that I can tell anything to... Again totally irrelevant. Sorry.
Apparently I only reach my 'full potential' in two subjects. English and Science. Those are my two favourite subjects. In the rest of them, I show flashes but half the time I just can't be bothered with them or just am not intersted at all. My teachers have kinda gotten used to me and know when to just leave me alone, because they do know that I am listening and learning, but that I don't actually care. Strange. Anyway, end of year exams last year. I had good results. 90%+ in all subjects bar History and Geography. But the thing is, all of my teachers knew that I could of got 95%+ in ALL subjects. 'If he applied himself'. Sod off.
I've been described as 'reluctantly clever' which basically means that I know I'm clever but don't want to look to be. And that is TOTAL b******s. True, sometimes I don't wish to be, but I never don't want to look to be. I've put that wrong. Ah who cares. Basically, I want to be clever because I know it helps me, but sometimes I just wanna get away from the pressure teachers put on me to achieve my full funning potential.
I want to be a journalist because I love writing. I really really love it. I couldn't be a writer though because I never get long projects finished even when I want to. (Example: The Plunder Of Mt Easee, I finished it a year and 9 days after I first started it, and it wasn't even that long!) So I want to write for a magazine. A games magazine if possible. But any form of journalism would be fine for me.
I'm thin as hell too, due half to a disease and half to the fact that I'm small anyway (5 ft). I get the hiss ripped out of me by a few people for the fact that I have a disease and that I'm small. And again that's totally irrelevant.
In fact this whole sodding post has nothing to do with your post, Grix.
That was a stream of conciousness that whole post... Just stuff I had to get out of my system. Sorry for it not having ANYTHING to do with anything else in this thread...
That's the point.
Don't escape them, harvest them, record them, use them. They're not going to go anywhere else, trust me, I've tried.
Games and escape is nice, but creating doesn't even feel like you're escaping, just facing.
Try it. Go write a story, draw, paint, anything. Don't tell me you're crap at it, with time you'll get better.
Don't escape them, harvest them, record them, use them. They're not going to go anywhere else, trust me, I've tried.
Games and escape is nice, but creating doesn't even feel like you're escaping, just facing.
Try it. Go write a story, draw, paint, anything. Don't tell me you're crap at it, with time you'll get better.
Ah, the thinking, i could never really decide on it.
Maybe it's because i still have no idea where i'm going, but i've always at least tried to put in the academic work. I took from music to inspire that too,
"da da da da daaa daa da da da da,
follow the lights, they lead to something"
problem then was the thinking. i know those lessons all too well, when you find yourself an hour later with a blank page. a lesson, or a couple of hours homework efforts. but then i was asking myself if i really wanted to stop it - it was like a part of who i was... am. and besides, i wanted the fruits of thinking like that, pet philosophy et al.
but i don't know how it effects everyone else, but in my own experience, i think video games, films, music, basketball, everything else i love, it all has one thing in common, the chance to cut out the thoughts for a while - what i could never achieve while working.
so i don't know about them. part of me wants them, but are they really worth it? and why do i seem to do so much to escape them?
i don't know
Maybe it's because i still have no idea where i'm going, but i've always at least tried to put in the academic work. I took from music to inspire that too,
"da da da da daaa daa da da da da,
follow the lights, they lead to something"
problem then was the thinking. i know those lessons all too well, when you find yourself an hour later with a blank page. a lesson, or a couple of hours homework efforts. but then i was asking myself if i really wanted to stop it - it was like a part of who i was... am. and besides, i wanted the fruits of thinking like that, pet philosophy et al.
but i don't know how it effects everyone else, but in my own experience, i think video games, films, music, basketball, everything else i love, it all has one thing in common, the chance to cut out the thoughts for a while - what i could never achieve while working.
so i don't know about them. part of me wants them, but are they really worth it? and why do i seem to do so much to escape them?
i don't know
"Cap'an! Thar he blows!"
Venombyte looked over the front of the ship, no storm nor wind could hold him back, and there, indeed, was the devil incarnate swimming through the oceans, spurting water out higher even than the destroying waves that had crashed his ship twice before.
"It's the Grix! The Grix! There he is! There he is!" He shouted, the cold salt water smashing against him, but it would never stop him. Never.
Venombyte looked over the front of the ship, no storm nor wind could hold him back, and there, indeed, was the devil incarnate swimming through the oceans, spurting water out higher even than the destroying waves that had crashed his ship twice before.
"It's the Grix! The Grix! There he is! There he is!" He shouted, the cold salt water smashing against him, but it would never stop him. Never.
Bah. If you stopped filling this forums with all your introverted drivel, I'd have time to add to the story.
*waits for a pull on the line*
*waits for a pull on the line*
I started to think, only a few weeks ago. That, by using the reply quoting and informing that person that I agree, does this mean that I don't have an opinion for myself?
Well, no. It means I've got one, but it just means that I'm able to agree with people and see their point of view on a matter. I really don't have a lot to say on this topic, so I'll end it now.
Well, no. It means I've got one, but it just means that I'm able to agree with people and see their point of view on a matter. I really don't have a lot to say on this topic, so I'll end it now.
Page: