The Sanctum

Welcome, traveller. This be the realm of Jay Niner, where everything be possible, and nothing ever happens. If, perchance, thou wisheth to tarry, then find thou a page from the Grimoire and read. For we are here in eternity, and we are in medias res.



The interesting thing about mornings, any and all of them, is the fact that it is a new beginning. Of and for anything whatsoever; but recently things have been very interesting. Of late, especially.
For example is the cancelled study tour. Even my own sources did not reveal much; if this is a conspiracy, it's worthy of Jason Bourne, for the following reasons:
1. No one knows where the study tour is going
2. No one knows who is going.
3. No one knows when we're going.
4. No one knows how we're going.
5. And the clincher: no one knows if we're going.

And finally, one day this week, I'll find out, after all the cancellations and all the postponing, I'll wake and find out that one message from my beloved not-yet alma mater has made its way through the haze of connectivity: "You have a study tour going to XXX-XXX, please pack your bags and assemble outside the designated buses by 7.30." And true to form the message will be received at exactly 6.30, not a moment before.
But we'll get up, grumble, and half-heartedly make our way to the buses. And wait, and wait and wait.
Of course, this is under the Improbability principle: shit may or may not happen, but it will mindfuck you in either case.
On that note, I find it necessary to maintain an altogether positive outlook, and while this is not a herculean task, it is still somewhere in the realm of possibility, perhaps just under "go to chernobyl" on my "to-do" list for the next forty years.
Still, all we have to do is cross our fingers and hope. Hope is all we have. All that Pandora didn't let out of the box, and we can hope that she's learnt better. A writer I admire for both his research and versatility has one of his characters remarking, "hope survives best at the heart. To win you must surrender as well." Thank you very much, Master Yoda.
Yes, well, we left, or at least I did, leave my hearth behind for foreign shores that promised glory and riches and power, the three things that matter to any self-respecting conquistador who searches the unknown. I thought of getting some peace at last, absolute power be damned.
Oh, yes, there's one piece of interesting news; I recently installed one of the Mount&Blade series, titled Warband. Prior to installation I was labouring under the conception that this was Neverwinter Nights with better horses; how wrong I was. It is literally Mount&Blade; you have a mount and you have a blade. Go fuck yourself.
No, it's not that bad; it's actually quite good. The sheer range of options you have is amazing; and on a fully-open world map that stretches from deserts to sea and mountains of ice, with seven or eight different cultures (all human, which was slightly disappointing, given its fantasy nature), this boasts a world without any plot whatsoever.
The only alternative to this sort of freedom I can think of is Sid Meier's Pirates!, circa 2004? I'm not sure. Except that, as the name implies, you have a ship and a bunch of pirates, and sadly, a rather annoying plot line. Like GTA San Andreas, that sort of freedom, except that even San Andreas had a very lengthy but abrupt plot. Mount&Blade has no set plotline; ah, freedom is bliss. Conquer castles, rescue princesses (or princes, depending on your character's sex) become emperors or generals, plunder and raze or nurture and grow, be a politician or a brute.
And that brings me back to the beginning; when games like these give out such freedoms, who wants real life? An interesting topic I'm going to expand on later.



18.10.10, 2300 hours
The room was rife with utter chaos. Clothes lay on the table, the laptop sprawled over the pillow, the hard drive lost in the confines of the blanket, the beer precariously balanced on the windowsill, the floor full of paper I'd spread out of a desire to read up on world events, and the room smelt rather badly; of cigarettes and a few other things I'd rather not mention. Suffice to say the cigarettes smelt better.
Out of the folds of my safe, which contained all my documents, I found my diary. I had this habit of maintaining one; one of those delegated missions so that my flame would have some reading matter of a deeply personal nature. On that note I had, along with her, dumped the diary a year back. It was still there, though; waiting for me to pick it up and read. So I gave in to my baser natures and opened the damned book.
Yes, there was no surprise that I had not attended the first sem. A mild sort of elation as my book described my efforts to keep a streak of attendance on the second. Then some more disappointment that stemmed from that feeling of boredom. I hadn't achieved much in that year during which I maintained a diary. It resembled a ledger from hell, describing a downward spiral into something deeper than stupidity; what that is I did not figure out.
19.10.10, 0900 hours
And still the after-effects rolled in, the memories of exploits small and large and the feeling of smallness that pervaded my psyche. I had a feeling of comparing myself to the world, my life to the universe, and as everyone knows, that never amounted to much.
Strangely, I did feel good this morning, though... perhaps the cigar I lit from the bonfire of my diary has its after-effects too.
The moral of this story? Emotional baggage has an expiry date.


There are some days when you wake up one morning only to find that you have no assignments to submit, that your attendance won't falter if you take a day off, that your purse has plenty of money and your vehicle petrol, your laptop has conked off and your family's taken over the home, where nature contrives to get you not only out of the house, but also to bunk college and enjoy yourself.
This is not one of those days. There are times when people go shoot themselves.
This is not one of those times. And more often than not the most common situation is that you go to college and still have a good day to show for it. Nothing goes wrong.
That's not the case either.

Today is as such a perfectly, stupidly useless days. One of those when you can actually sense that limbo was never around the corner, peeking out- you know with that sinking feeling of listlessness, that it's already here. Ah, college. The bane of our times, the destroyer of our DNA as independant thinking beings.
Maybe I'm going too far here. Or maybe not far enough.


Aiyyashi/Nirvana: The Ultimate Conflict

Right, so we have here A series of unfortunate events. Why is it that only when you have a fever the holidays occur, when you're fine classes are in full bloom, when you get crippled in the leg you feel like travelling, or when your attendance is at an all-time low you feel like bunking?
Life's little mysteries. There was a comic strip about Goofy being unable to sleep properly, so what he does is he calls up an employment agency and asks them for work.
The agency always needs workers. So it gives him a huge list of work to be done. Happy that his life isn't empty, he goes to sleep.

And that's what everyone feels like. Everyone includes even the workaholics. Without exception, there is a niggling feeling of playing hooky that everyone's fond of. Let me give you some advice here. Don't follow that feeling. I did, and look where I am:
-Without any attendance whatsoever.

Nice place, all things considered. But not exactly future-centric, which is another place to be entirely.
So understand what you've got to do. Give up your pleasures now for your pleasures in the future.
Give up aiyyashi so that you can achieve nirvana. Easy, isn't it?
Easy in theory like everything. In fact, it's so goddamn hard that I think I'll stick with aiyyashi, and enjoy my life now. No matter what the case, I know one day that I'll regret this act; but until then, hallelujah.