My experiments with Quake

STATUTORY WARNING - Im referring to Quake 3 Arena. If you dont know what i'm talking about, havent heard of it, havent played it, havent enjoyed it, please feel free to star-hash-ampersand-percentage off :D

The deeper meaning of this game is the demolition of fellow beings in the spirit of purest amity. In the recent past I have almost acquired the status of a nightmare bot... Meaning I can frag two guys from behind before dying of natural causes (a. fall into void, b.frag myself)... A lean mean killing machine incarnate....Well a pudgy mean killing machine at any rate :D

How'd I reach Nightmare? Relentless dedication of useful time to Quake of course... Just goes to show how much hard work and determination can accomplish!! Now I'm 3 frags away from buying a Xaero T-Shirt and becoming a deluxe geek.

Havent beaten Xaero yet, BTW, not even in Hardcore. While I'm slickly banging into the columns of the map and jumping into the void, Xaero just hangs around and picks me off. So does Major... gets me in passing shots when Im minding my own business - fragging someone else from behind...I'll get them yet...

I'm forcing models to Sorlag, cause my bro left it that way and plus I think she's kinda cute with a killer bustline...In one of the maps, two red Sorlags were squabbling with rocket launchers when I hopped up gracefully and fired a random shot between them missing both of them by an equal distance. Then (I Swear) both of them turned together, gave me a contemptuous glance, fired a rocket each at my nose simultaneously and continued to squabble without even checking to see if I was killed. Needless to say, I caught both rockets unerringly on the nose.

And did I tell you about the times I've jumped right behind bots into the void in the hope I can get them before they die?? Yeah, times.

Anyways, despite my sophisticated strategies, I really have reached Nightmare and fragged Uriel too, so thats something.... Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, HERE I COMEEEE!!!

Death

One of my friends passed away yesterday. I had worked with her for a year a couple of years back. I guess this is in memoriam. She was a supremely hardworking, kind person without an ounce of guile in her. She was painfully thin and disturbingly sincere. She has left a husband and a one month old baby behind her.

Of all the people who deserve to die, they had to come and take her. Just reinforces that there cannot possibly be a god.

She used to work weekends, work 14 hours a day, reschedule vacations for work. And all for what? One nice blurry photograph with a Condolence Message.

It makes me furious to think of her and of all the people who live for their work… Someday they will cease to.

So many people had tried to tell her so many times to catch a break…Why wouldn’t she listen??

There’s a big beautiful life out there people…You may not add much meaning to the world, but for your own sakes, smell the roses before its too late.

It is NOT better to burn out than to fade away. It’s better to live and love and dream and do. Because the world doesn’t give a damn whether you stay or go. You live for the people who would be scarred for life if you weren’t there. And there will ALWAYS be somebody who will, no matter who you are.

Above all, we live for ourselves, because we owe it to ourselves to make a damn satisfactory life of the minuscule time we have.

Passing Idlery

I have been presented with a lot of free time today...Although I have an unusual number of pending tasks, I am efficiently doing the maximum amount of idling at the minimum expense of guilt. Funny how free time brings out the best in us...Was reading Dilbert right now (Scott Adams is my Deepak Chopra) and Scott told me to manage my creativity rather than my time, so here I am.....

Am recently doing the rounds of house hunting and patting myself on the back for how experienced im becoming in the ways of the world. In reality, I have a huge board on the forehead saying "Im the sucker you dreamed about" and even the most illiterate of chaps here have figured this one out. So as I pass from one rip-off to another, laughing lightly at the weight of experience gained, I am single-handedly boosting land/automobile/grocery/travel/clothes/ shoes prices in the city.* (This list is not exhaustive).

But Im a bit puzzled. How on earth are everyone else doing such a great job of getting the best deal out of life when I - Super Maddy, am a con-magnet? Real brain-teaser... I think the primary reason happens to be my split second decision making skills....You know, like the air-traffic controllers...That plane goes THERE (Throw in more jargon if that doesnt convince ya, but that is what they do)....Except that ALL my decisions are ALWAYS wrong....

I have a perfect track record of never making a correct decision about anything. And the spooky part is, once I've changed my mind, the original decision suddenly becomes perfect and the new one is what is going to bankrupt me...So I tried handing over decision making to my mother earlier in life and my significant other later.

Problem with mommy deciding was that she always chose what was best for me and after a while, my creativity began to be stifled. So I had to stop her, before she turned me into a seriously worthwhile person, which was clearly not my purpose in life. Problem with my significant other was that he had never taken a decision in his life and didn't plan on starting now and he absolutely refused to have two sets of decisions to not make.

So here I am, having an impact on the economy all by my little self.... SOMEBODY STOP ME!

Marriage

Tarun paced angrily on the porch. Paused once or twice to glare at his cellphone. It glared back. He tried Nakti again. No reply. Where WAS the fool woman? He cursed a little more.

Kooky, their German Shepherd, woofed appreciatively. Tarun stopped, directing a look of unrestrained ferocity at her. She subsided meekly, suddenly wary of this large useless creature that fed her for no particular reason. She whined apologetically and slunk away.

Kooky wasn’t too worried about Nakti. Her shrewd canine senses told her Nakti had just forgotten to turn up the volume of her phone, YET again. But now wasn’t the time to clue Tarun in. She might forfeit a midnight snack in the mission.

Nakti paid the cab, dropped her purse, dropped her umbrella while picking up her purse, and drenched herself while picking up the umbrella, heard the cellphone for the first time, scrabbled desperately in her handbag for it, didn’t find it and arrived home elegantly with a singing handbag, a muddy umbrella, a dripping purse and mascara streaking down her face.

This was actually a blessing in disguise. Tarun, mad for so long, was about to pounce, when the sight of her melted his heart. He asked tenderly “What happened dearie?”

Kooky sniffed delicately. Men! Nakti stared at him quizzically “Happened? Whaddya mean happened? I had a blazing day… I’m still blazing actually, need to dry off so that the embers can start blazing again”

Tarun’s temper began to blaze. “I get it! Blazing! Where the BLAZES were you? Why can’t you answer your BLAZING phone? I was worried sick about you!”

Nakti snorted. “I can’t imagine why. I am far more capable of taking care of myself than you are, Mister I-Have-Testosterone-So-I’ll-Drive-Without-Lessons”

“That was ONCE, TEN YEARS ago! Will you stop using that as an example once every three days?” Tarun was shouting

Nakti smiled. “Why?”

Tarun was momentarily speechless. “What do you mean why?” he ventured uncertainly “Because it was a long time ago, that’s why!”

“So?” Nakti had her hands on her hips and was glinting dangerously

Tarun became resigned. “So I’m thirty-five now, I drive beautifully and if you ever bring this up in front of my employees, I’ll feed you to Kooky”

Kooky coughed delicately. Not that she wanted to interrupt the fascinating conversation, but speaking of food…

She was ignored. Nakti was becoming thoughtful. Kooky winced. “Honey, what are you really mad about?”

Tarun got purple – “You didn’t answer the damn phone and its midnight!!”

Nakti was soothing and radiated patience “I know, I know, but that’s just an excuse. Now tell me, darling, what is REALLY bothering you?”

Tarun floundered helplessly for a while opening and shutting his mouth and then gave up – “Anyway, doesn’t matter. Lets just have dinner”

“Awww you cooked for me! You darling! And you haven’t eaten yet?” She gave him a hug and a kiss.

He thawed a bit and was feeling more kindly towards her when she headed for the bathe. “I’m hungry dammit!”

“Then eat darling!”

“ I wait and worry for hours, make dinner and go hungry and this is the thanks I get?” He was getting purple again.

“No dearie” she was puzzled “The kiss was the thanks you got. How can a bathe possibly be a Thank You? I don’t smell THAT much, you know!”

“WHY CAN WE NOT EAT NOW?”

“Because I want to have a bathe…If you made dinner expecting something in return, that wasn’t very Christian honey!”

“WE AREN’T CHRISTIAN”

“Details” she waved airily and disappeared.

Epics

The Male Epic – Abridged
--------------------------------
He was the chosen one (Chosen to save the world dammit, not for boy scouts). Everyone knew except him. He is always confused and in denial. He was irresistible to women. Two to three wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am scenarios with transparent attempts at making them sound meaningful.

Lots of bad guys to kill (Hero still confused, by the way, about his chosen status). Supervillain.

Supervillain wins every battle except the last. Gorgeous amazon women with huge assets chasing him. Detailed description of assets.

Hero acquiring an impressive list of bruises, fractures and intestine drippy complaints and carrying on heedless (I wish one of them would just fart a lot or get loose motion)

All female characters helpless, only interested in stripping and canoodling and acting tough (Of course, the hero is always there to do the real tough stuff)

Hero’s angst dealt with in detail even while massacring extras and banging random women.

Final Boss battle occupying two chapters with plenty of blood and gore (deeply regretted by the hero, by the way, all he wanted was peace and love to all mankind). No heroines here except for the purposes of

1. Getting captured and being saved
2. Getting involved in the beginning of the battle, being knocked unconscious and presumed dead, to supply hero with added angst at critical moments.
3. Staying supportive at safe distances and cheerleading

Hero killed boss (or made him, disappear/disperse/fall into void, in which case Entrez Sequel). World safe.

The Female Epic – Abridged
-----------------------------------
Troubled heroine. Gorgeous and ultra brainy although utterly unaware of it. Unable to understand why all males flock around her.

Either big assets (again, completely unaware of herself, I cannot stress this enough) or perfect sized assets along with bashing of women with big assets.

Has had one or possibly two past encounters that left her shattered.
Choose
1. Husband cheated (or if husband is hero, she misunderstood his pure saintly

motives for being naked in bed with another woman)
2. Lover thought her inadequate
3. Failed marriage entirely due to cruel husband (or if husband is hero, faults on

both sides)

Hero TDH. Older, sophisticated, very rich. VERY VERY RICH. RICH. RICH. RICH. RICH. RICH. RICH.

Well built without being too beefy. Two pages to dwell on perfect build. Full thick wavy hair. NOT balding, even if fifty. Arrogant and masterful and ANNOYS the heroine no end, but some corner of her always submits.

Hero has had lot more women than heroine. Very experienced and awesome in bed and sought after by all women. Still falls inexplicably for the heroine.

Both deny it strenuously even while canoodling at every chance.

Detailed love scenes lasting pages with no emotion missed in the entire English language. Perfect fulfillment later, best they ever had. Always.

Trouble in paradise over ridiculously stupid reason (For eg. Burnt breakfast) displayed in detail through a microscope to look like Godzilla.

Chapters of how unhappy both are without each other growing thinner/paler/dark circles/ clothes become loose/ haunted look in eyes/ intense suffering/ lots of people commenting on unhappiness.

Reunite after finally realizing they cannot live without each other. Get married, red haze of bliss surrounds them. Sunset. Happily ever after.

Women's Lib

This one has been running in my head for quite a while now, but I never got the time to put it down till now… All right all right, so I’m choosing a deliberately controversial topic to generate sordid tabloidic interest. But in my defense, I don’t really care.

Let me come out here and say what many women have probably been thinking guiltily for quite a while…WOMEN’S LIB IS ONE BIG FAT RIP-OFF!! No offense to all the sisters who fought for this, but just LOOK at the implications.

While I sit here earning my honest bread and getting blood pressure, I’m thinking every minute… Why the hell can I not pout all day in red lingerie and wait for some sap to bring a diamond necklace along? I mean I have all the qualifications necessary to be a moll/housewife/trophy wife ? Why was I so foolish as to throw it all away to do WORK?

Look at the alternatives

1. Wife supporting the cause of Llamas in the Alaskan Zoo while husband slaves away to provide for her fur coat (Llama fur incidentally)

2. Wife taking care of home (nominally) and unlimited TV/Music/Reading/Internet

3. Mistress with a “look pretty” job description

4. Employee No 345 of the toothless Sultan’s harem

5. Girlfriend to Jock who wants to, no, INSISTS ON paying for everything

I tell you ladies, we’ve all been had; In fact I might go so far as to accuse some male of being at the bottom of this, only I doubt any had the foresight. Which is why I want to kick myself. We brought this on ourselves and there’s no wiggle room I can see.

No, wait, I have a theory. It’s the power trip. All humans are notoriously power hungry and equality gives women (the illusion of) some power. And we have millions of women here rushing like lemmings to an early grave chasing this mirage.

So we are reduced to a cheesy movie line – ‘With great power comes great responsibility” UGH. I don’t want great power at all, just a lazy irresponsible lifestyle. For heavens sakes, is that too much to ask??

There was an article a few days back saying women are losing more hair these days because of the pressure they are under (also the toxic hair-colouring, but lets ignore that for the sake of making a dubious point). This frightened me terribly because being bald puts a serious spoke in my dream of a red-lingeried existence (So does my husband’s reception of the idea, but I’ll wear him down eventually)

So its official now. I am against women’s lib in all its clauses that say I have to work. Or else I’m just shirking work. Whichever.

Optimism

It never fails to confound me how optimism works. Here is this ass standing in the middle of a junction, holding up traffic in three directions whilst he debates whether to cross or not, thinking “Of course nothing will happen to me!” and shockingly, nothing does!

If life were a cartoon he would DEFINITELY be run over by a bus and reduced to a two-dimensional figure. However if you have a normal person out there, thinking “I’m done for!” then five times out of ten, he is! Reality has a keen sense of irony. She only gets the logical ones.

Or so you would come to think if you have read as many motivational books as I have… But having read enough of them, all boringly repetitive on the themes of
1. Kiss-Ass,
2. Work-Hard-And-Expect-Nothing-In-Return, and
3. Be-Optimistic-Even-At-The-Wrong-End-Of-A-Seriously-Disturbed-Kid’s-Machinegun,

I begin to wonder.
I can, of course, display the intermittent spurt of optimism, if the occasion begs for it…But by instinct, I am a Murphy’s law aficionado (I hate word-processors. I had a much nicer spelling for this word).

I find it profoundly irritating to watch people who never cover their bets getting away with it and looking happier into the bargain. All my unrequited “I told you so” ’s (Hope I got the punctuation right on this one. I’m a little obsessive compulsive here) come seething to the surface, almost choking me… I mean, wouldn’t it be nice to see an occasional judgmental thunderbolt hit them?

I’ve often tried being them... i.e Foolishly Optimistic Maddy Goes to The Market.
I go to the superstore and pretend earnestly to myself that the salesman means every word he says. Of COURSE this refrigerator can grow tundra and preserve milk for two generations! To believe is everything. If I can only subdue my inner sceptic, all the magic that is this refrigerator can be mine!

But I’m ashamed to say that my inner sceptic is far more powerful than me. I may have to seek professional help and join the Pessimists Anonymous for it.

So here I am stuck with all the crappy merchandise ever manufactured in spite of
1. Having done extensive internet research on company time
2. Examined each item from every angle and debated every risk
3. Minutely judged the chances
4. Two backup plans
5. Overpaid by 50%
Understood the true meaning of purchaser karma

And WHAM, the minute any item reaches my home, it implodes quietly. I think it must be this powerful force field of ineffectuality I have created inside my home.

And then there are these folks I know, who saw an advertisement, had an epiphany (translated loosely – thought GOSH! THAT’S COOL!” ) and went out and bought it. And to my intense frustration, it IS COOL. There should be a law against it.

This leads me to ponder - What is optimism really? A stubborn disregard for the facts? Rose-coloured spectacles? A testimony of hope?

I’ve finally worked out this principle – Be optimistic when I can’t influence the outcome (e.g. Nuclear Disarmament) and be pessimistic when I CAN (e.g. my exams)

In short, if I have a hand in it, I’ll find a way to mess it up. Amen.

Spare a penny!

Hiya folks, Its been a long time since I posted anything. The reason is simple; I havent had any meaningful thoughts since my last post. Of course, if you want to know about my laundry issues,Im more than ready to share.

So the new thought I've had is - Discrimination... I watched The Corporation and read a few other disturbing stuff and this word kept popping up in my mind.

Boy children are brought up on GI-Joes and other Jock Toys. The basic message these toys keep hitting at you are - you dont need brains to be stupid. This boy child will soak it up and some day make some girl a very macho, stupid mate or give up and become gay.
And girls with Barbies and other impossible ideals...

Looking like a supermodel is NOT a good thing ladies! It means anorexia, possible anaemia and difficulty during childbirth. THATS the kind of inspiration girls need!

Barbie by herself is rampant discrimnation ladies. In fact, all boy babies should be brougt up on Hugh Grant toys and asked to be like him. Then men will come at par with all those women wanting to have Barbie figures

Today I saw an article on air-hostesses of Air India. They are all required to join fitness regimes and shape up. For the sake of employee health and reduction of BP and cholestrol from sedentary lifestyles?? HELLO!! THIS IS A CORPORATION!! KEEP UP!!

For the sake of beating the competition that has svelter air-hosts/hostesses
Thats the second profession at least to discriminate against fat people (first is modelling). So we have a new discriminatory criteria in countries where regular rich-poor, old-young, black-white discrimination is not currently IN...good looking-bad-looking

Maybe thats the way the world goes. You live, you love, you bitch-about-your-job, you discriminate, you die. Destiny.