I’m pissed off with me getting pissed off at her pissing me off.

A friend three drinks down on his love life.

Bliss is not living the a beer soaked moment of happy conversation and better times.

Bliss is not waking up every morning with something to look forward to.

No.

Bliss is when you can’t tell the difference between being bulletproof to disappointment or simply transparent to it.

9 years.

In Slackerninja-speak, it’s seen me through:

1. Three relationships.

2. Two generations of video game consoles and more games than I can count.

3. A slew of computer hardware, new and old.

4. College and way too many jobs than I should have been employed in.

5. Three sets of friends who have been discarded and disregarded for reasons known and unknown and downright ugly.

6. A boatload of rejections, crashes and burns to count in various facets of my life. Professional, personal and social. I’m a living crash test dummy.

It’s been my whiteboard for all those crazy moments of sheer euphoria, snark, depression, apparent wit and the ever increasing emo-ness that comes along with the sheer attempt at living.

Which is why I find it incredibly funny that this digital journal of sorts, is one of the few things that keeps me sane. Funny how something incredibly simple and potentially taken for granted is all that’s needed to keep one grounded.

Or something like that.

Yeah. 9 years. It’s scary. Almost a decade of half-baked thoughts expressed on the internet and they haven’t put me in a straitjacket yet.

Funny? Incredibly so.

Now listening to: Godspeed You! Black Emperor – Sleep

Reboot the franchise to the modern day. Give Kratos a brand new look, like he’s from Twilight and have Ares be a grubby business man wearing a suit. Throw in dubstep and immature dialogue along with (even more) watered down combat and you have a winner.

Fight between Kratos and Medusa:

Medusa: Kratosssss? Son of Zeus? And Calisto the whooooreeee?

Kratos: I’m Kratos the God killer. Has a nice ring to it.

Medusa: You want to kill me? You can’t kill me. I’m perenially stoooonnnnneeeeedddd!

Kratos: Fuck you.

Medusa: Fuck youuuuuuuuuu!

Kratos: Fuck you.

Medusa: Fuckkkkkkkkkk youuuuuuuuuuuuuu!

If you didn’t you get the all but obvious inspiration, here it is:

Then again, you don’t fuck with a god. Or do you?

One moment you’re pondering over how much of twat you were in college and before you know it you’re bawling over an ex-flame whilst demolishing half a bottle of whiskey. It’s dangerous territory.

Sure, it all begins with a nice little premise that the past was good, that the past carries with it memories of good times, of endless conversations, of overflowing mugs of beer but it’s just a bunch of rose tinted moments. Moments that on introspection seem like the greatest thing ever but dig a little deeper.

With just a little more thought you’ll realise that now is better. Sure, you’re older and have or are succumbing to the pressures of the world what with trying to make ends meet (and barely doing so), trying to indulge a family set in their ways (while trying to maintain your own independence) and hoping against hope that there’s something to keep you moving from one day to the next (hahaha, what?).

Amidst the raging tide that makes up your daily grind, from the angst-ridden commutes to your purposefully amnesiac peers, you realise that you can handle it all.  That’s because ladies and gentlemen, you have lived and continue to do so. Not only that, you can handle whatever is thrown in your direction with aplomb.

And all nostalgia does is hold you back. Evolution dictates that things become more complex, that life gives you more than you can handle but it also gives you one underlying principle to live by. Exist long enough and you’ll realise that the purpose of living isn’t to ease comfortably into your twilight years but to hurl yourself at every challenge with absolute disregard. All while knowing at the back of your head that despite your best efforts, things might still go pear shaped.

In a sentence, hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Yes, it’s a dichotomy and perhaps hypocritical but what are we if not walking, talking, breathing contradictions?

I read some of the articles in your blog.I must admit you have a great sense of humor.Please take good care of your health,As i’ve been seeing cases in my hospital for 3 years,There is a significant rise in alcohol related Morbidity.By significant i mean 1-10 cases/day/365 days.Prognosis is moderate/poor.My books say 160mg/day or 28 units for men for 8 years is a really bad thing.

Oh well. I guess the days of having all my drinks in a glorious coffee mug are over.

Story of my life. Well, since iOS 6 upward.

Yeah I’ve just about had it. Damn thing doesn’t do more than 6 hours on 3G. Multiple calibrations, seemingly infinite factory resets, the works, I’ve done everything short of turning it in for a replacement. Doubt shitty battery life permits a replacement and the pain it entails what with store staff who are braindead at best.

It appears as if the nice folks at Cupertino have borked every update iOS 6 onwards to force users to upgrade. This sucks simply because I love the form factor and build quality of the 4S as well as have a bunch of accessories for it. That, and I’m not paying Apple 45K for a new phone that has slightly better battery life on Vodafone (though my tinfoil conspiracy hat says that telcos are a part of the problem what with shitty connectivity).

Anyway, other options involve switching to 2G (read: not happening) or getting a secondary device running as a hotspot via Wi-Fi which seems pretty retarded. I guess I’m pretty much stuck till an opportunity presents itself to upgrade. Gah.

Apple: come for the apps, because using Instagram to take over 9000 pictures of your cats means you don’t need more than 6 hours on 3G. Sigh.