Friday, 26 May 2017

Impressions, mimics and reflection

The most impressionable people on the world, children, are molded by that which they are exposed to. I've spoke at length about how I feel and that which I do due to what has happened yesteryear.

Rewind 15 years, Labour are in power. The Queen Mother has just passed away. Arsenal football club are about to start a short period of dominance over English football.

I, an open eyed, analytical 8 year old, in the midst of a barbecue party, sit inside on a scorching hot Saturday afternoon to watch an FA cup final. On the television, the afformentioned Arsenal.

Now to paint a picture, I come from a very passionate football family. My grandparents, with whom I had a season ticket at the time for my home town club Sunderland, were not too far removed from a playoff final defeat at Wembley, before plans for remodeling, to Charlton.

This day however, Arsenal were stage center at the Millenium Stadium, and Chelsea were the villains hoping to upset my unashamed mesmerity at a quite frankly mind blowing style of football.

That day, I was an Arsenal fan.
Ever since then, I have been a Gunner.

My childhood henceforth was lived inside dreams of imitating Bergkamp, Henry, Pires, Ray "It's only Ray Parlour" Parlour. I celebrated the invincibles, raged against united after that Rooney dive, laughed at Tim Lovejoy, have been heartbroken after Paris, mourned the loss of the King, and that of Highbury which I never had the opportunity to visit, shed tears against Birmingham, and more recently a different kind against Hull and Villa.

Our better years are very clearly behind us, but the beauty of football means you can't rule out the best ones being ahead. This is a fact of life as well.

Whatever happens tomorrow, Arsenal will not dissipate in how they affect my life. Whatever happens with Arsene Wenger, Arsenal are still the same club, and a future should never be decided on past performances, even if control is handled by the same person. Football has evolved to a point, on and off the pitch, to a point where a manger's job is almost moot. Arsenal and apparently Arsene's recent failings say as much, players can answer for themselves, the manager still attempts to deflect the blame... the cycle continues.
When team cohesion, morale and work ethic win you games, titles and respect, a manager has a minimal effect on the eventual outcome.

This is by the by, and maybe a discussion for another day.

I sit here, wearing the yellow of the Arsenal, as we're going to Wembley.
Remembering past joys, an infatuation that developed to love and then complete adoration and worship.
I know whatever the outcome I will feel emotion.
Reminding me I am human.
Reminding me I can love.
Reminding me there is good with every bad.

Monday, 12 December 2016

F-Off Anxiety

Does everything in life hold a meaning?
It's true everything you see and do will trigger an emotion, whether it's anger or content, and emotions towards an object are what gives it meaning to you.
But in turn what does all of that mean?
Justify a object by an objective view, an endless search for validation of what? You don't look to justify the means, you are only ever asked to justify the emotion that triggered the means, and it's your own subconscious, that you can't control, that triggers the emotion.
So you're asked to explain the un-explainable, Describe the indescribable. To look for a meaning behind the indeterminable cause.

I think this is the main reason behind my anxiety, over analysis. To search for the meaning behind the object, you open a door to walk through; but why do you need to be on the other side?
There's no simple acceptance that it's an end to a means.
You close a door to keep something out, but why do you want to be boxed in?
It's almost like a never quenching thirst for pointless knowledge.

To understand that everything is just something with no need for expansion, that I can only dream of.
Now, you yourself might be wondering at this point why I'm waffling on about objective nonsense.

This is something I don't need to question myself on. There are acres upon acres of trees in the world that nobody understands why they are there. Just like there are millions upon millions of people in the world that nobody understands why they are suffering.
So for you to perhaps make steps to understand me, and realise it's not stupid, it is in no way silly, and it's effects are deeper than the foundations of some homes.
There are other people, who suffer in silence; frustrated, fearing, and fleeing from their own figurative thoughts.

I want anxiety to #F-OFF.
Only together can a society stamp out the stigma that surrounds the subject.


I am open to suggestion,
Ask me a probing question,
I'm an open book, I'll try to teach,
How to put your worries out of reach,
Yet I don't take note of my own word,
I scream and shout, but never have I heard,
Am I alone in this myself?
wallowing in misery and filth?
Or do I also have a shoulder,
As I lent to you, growing older,
Maturing in age and mood,
If only I thought I could,
Move past what seems a great expanse,
A desolate and lonely trance,
I don't want to admit that I am weak,
But I must face facts and look to seek,
A deeper form of understanding,
Of an aircraft almost never landing,
Of a state of constant suspense,
Leading me to feel this way, and hence;
I plea to you my faithful friend,
That we stop trying to against fend,
The laws of unknown emotion,
The source of this unruly commotion.



Monday, 5 September 2016

Legion: A Review







Last week I took a week off work in anticipation of the latest expansion to World of Warcraft - Legion. After reaching the new maximum level cap in little over 24 hours from launch, I have since experienced most content currently available at the current point of the game. In my review here, I will discuss the content I have played through, detailing my thoughts on each part of the game.



Introduction Quests:


Although these were available quite a while before launch, eventually climaxing on launch night, I felt it pertinent to discuss them here. For the most part, after running through them more than twice, they became long drawn out lore-fests. They were enjoyable for the most part the first time around, luckily they did become skippable after launch, cutting down severely on time required to get stuck in to the new content.
Image result for dalaran broken isles


Leveling:

There are only four zones in total to level through in Legion, however don't let you fool this into thinking there is a lack of content in each zone. With the exception of Azsuna, and to an extant Val'sharah, each zone tends to have a small set of introductory quests, explaining the story behind each zone (Azsuna inflicts this knowledge onto you whilst flying into the zone). Ultimately, specifically in the case of Stormheim, these are the downsides to the zones themselves. Highmountain, which regardless of what I'm about to say is still the best leveling zone in my opinion, also has a few filler quests, which seem forced upon the player in order to extend the zone in line with experience gained from other zones.
Every enemy you find, no matter what zone you're in out of the four outlined, will be scaled to your level, so there's no worry of having to give up on a zone to move on via outleveling or gearing a certain area.


Image result for highmountain


Dungeons:

This is one part of the expansion I cannot yet cover as a whole. Overall, the new dungeons seem rather linear in layout, overloaded with trash monsters, with new(ish) niche mechanics on bosses. Many of the new mechanics have been carried over from the invasion events that occurred pre-launch. Normal dungeons scale to levels as with zones, so if your friends are lagging behind at all, you can still easily play with them to experience the content together. From what I have experienced of heroic dungeons, they do not bear the same challenging resemblance to very close to post-launch as Wrath or Cataclysm, but still offer an ample challenge at the current point in the expansion.


Image result for neltharion's lair


End Game:

I will split this part into two categories. World Quests and Suramar.

World Quests:

This piece of entirely new content (to WoW at least) is the jewel in the already gem laden crown of Legion. World Quests are your source of daily, sometimes bi/tri-daily, reputation, gear, order resources, gold... Everything you could possibly imagine. It will be interesting to see how World Quests develop given the gear it offers are oft better than that available in heroic dungeons, although quite whether an elaboration at the moment is even needed is very questionable.


Suramar:

Suramar becomes your hub for end game questing content, opening up an entirely new faction to develop, and gain reputation with. The quests that arrive with Suramar are on a somewhat new level for WoW, very involving and entertaining, but you could say the same for the majority of the expansion, particularly Class Order quests. The zone itself is quite honestly one of the most beautiful creations to take place on Azeroth. Suramar is by far and away the zone you'll find yourself in the most come maximum level, so brace yourself before taking on it's introductory quests, it can be quite hard to stop once you've started. One single quest giver can often lead to a chain, from the same NPC I may add, of 5 up to 8.

Image result for suramar


So there you have it. A masterstroke at first glance, and although we're only a week in, it's exciting to think what may be around the corner. Indeed if the new content patch's teaser trailer is anything to go by, we're in for a joyous ride.

If you'd like to follow my progress through Legion, you can follow me on Twitch.

I hope to see you out there on the Broken Isles.

Wednesday, 27 July 2016

The Cost of Admission

I'm about to tell you a story. A story all about how, my life got flipped, turned upside down.
No.

In all seriousness, this will be one of my more lengthier posts. I started this blog to showcase my poetry, nothing more, and although my poetry had a certain depiction of my feelings at the time, it wasn't necessarily an open heart process. However, recently I feel I have put more effort into an explanation of why I write the post as a whole rather than the lyrical content. Similarly, I have begun to wonder what kind of direction that step is in. On analysis of the situation, it's more an admission than an escape, My state of mind in a particular moment, held forever in a few words of rage or fear, and  hung out to dry for the whole world to see.

But for the whole case of admission, it is still my escape. There will always be those who sun the concept of "airing dirty laundry" (if that applies here) or laying myself bare, however that is merely an opinion. I won't let a narrow mind stop me from expanding my own, as selfish as that may sound. There always comes a point where a person is close to breaking. No matter what emotion caused such a situation, for it will always be reaction not action that is the cause, there will be a way for that individual to cope. 

I write, some fight, some forget, or at least try. Everybody has their own antidote, to their own poison. However the time taken to find either is more or less equal.
To admit a fault is the first step to finding both. And so full circle.
I've admitted a lot here over the past 2 years, and only recently have I discovered writing is my one true escape.

With that, I intend to expand, an escape should have many routes. A single winding road tends to require more care and attention, such as it is, to upkeep.
So I am open to suggestion, this began with poetry, and will probably end with poetry, but wherever we stop on our journey, and what we accomplish on the way is unknown.
However I am excited to find out.

So you say you've seen it all before,
You know the score,
A negative is counted as a loss,
A line you thought you'd never cross,
Anticipation, trepidation,
No consideration, consolation,
And you still hold that expectation,
That time will pass without degradation,
Rust eats away at even petals,
And the strongest of all metals,
For all that is cosmetic,
Is enough to make me mentally sick,
I try to lay back and see,
The reasons behind my beliefs,
Is illness only selfishness?
Cries of pain for attention, no less?
Chastisement of my own being,
Is this the blind finally seeing?
Or another needless relegation,
To my feeble, crumbling self frustration,
I crave that finally realization, 
A world without this wild constriction.



Wednesday, 22 June 2016

Terrified

Words I thought had never been said,
Let me open up,
Like a book,
Waiting to be read.

I am in a somewhat horrible position. I am a person who wants to believe the best in people. It might be cliche, but it's very true. However there is an extrapolative to that in that I find it incredibly difficult to trust people. Once you've got me, I'm there but once it's broken, it's gone.
I had the opportunity recently to undertake a new therapy course of cognitive analytical therapy, which I regret in not taking said opportunity. I believed myself strong enough to continue down the road I am currently on and make it to my destination a considerably happier person.

This has not been the case.

It's very hard to admit you have a problem, when the problem is so situational. Is it down to my personality? Am I just generally a horrible person? Or am I cursed with this "critical hindsight"... THING?
It's moreso frustrating when the people close to me become a victim. The timekeeping of some of the people I am close to is woeful, and to that when I do become whatever the hell this is, I can only apologise.

The phrase "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" has met it's match here. A mental assault does not strengthen even the weakest of people. Instead it brings them to a new low, and whether it be for a minute or a millennia, they're no better off for it at the other side. I sometimes wonder what type of person I would be now if I kept shut inside of myself all of those years. I also wonder what type of person I will become if I carry down this path of self-destruction.


Define control,
That hyperbole,
A journey to find out what you can make yours,
Painting your walls, laying your floors,
But what happens when floor become flaws,
Fun is over-run, hobbies become chores,
Once what you deigned to enjoy,
Now feels like an evil ploy,
To make you give in,
Frown and not grin,
Close yourself off from commitments,
But are they commitments, or merely figments?
For imagination is a wonderful thing,
When you think of what it brings,
A certain modicum of control,
You can make that bell toll,
You can force that tree to grow,
You can stop time, or make it slow,
Just because you think of a meal,
Does not mean you cannot make it real,
To dare to dream, to act on thought,
That control is rarely sought,
I find myself here, with open eyes,
I think back to all of my highs,
Were they not once also a dream?
An intangible, pure, blinding gleam.






Wednesday, 25 November 2015

(insert title here)

I have this problem with motivation when things are going good. Motivation to let things how I so often refer to "flow" be published to this here little diary I keep of when I am most down. Yet there's still this somehow pressing need to share. I say pressing yet I seem to find it very easy avoiding it, which I'm not sure is a good thing, or bad. Writing generally makes me feel better when I'm down, so is it therefore plausible it would make me feel better when good? Yet to be tested, we will see very soon.

Here I pour my heart, my soul,
Here I admit emotions stole,
Here I try to be everything I aspire,
Here I can agree my deepest desires,
If I ever cry alone, in deep and painful love,
Is it you that gives me strength from up above?
A lord in life, my religion revolves around your words,
Now comes a time to abstain from all that I have heard,
A law is that which you make to prevent a crime,
And yet the same is what people break from time to time,
I never agreed to being what you would expect,
As if I knew what anyway, your attempts to protect,
Innocence perhaps? Growth potential too?
Besides the point, this is my way of saying, I've been thinking about you,
Anyone who knows me may agree,
Through written word I can enable others to see,
Assist in a broader view of how I think and feel,
Yet who I want to know... This may sound surreal,
I kneel, and pray, and try to say, I hope I've made you proud,
And imagine that smiling face in amongst the crowd,
"Listen, you're doing fine, believe my face if not my speech,
For as long as you remember me my helping hand's in reach."

Thursday, 1 October 2015

The value of 2 cents increases dramatically

For once, let's not script anything. I'm going to give it to you straight, it's up to you, if you can handle the single shot maybe come back for a double next time.
If I were to give a current mood assessment it would be terrified.
If you were to ask me why, I couldn't answer.
If I were to think about it I'd consider any thousands of reasons why I should be terrified.
Only none of them make sense.

I read shorts on how anxiety effects people all the time. How it convinces you of certain events that are beyond outlandish. How you push everyone you know and love away. I want to rebel, but I struggle to find the strength past pushing the person closest to me away.
I can't describe this through speech, it's not possible. There are words in my head I don't know how to say, but writing, well writing makes so much of a difference to being able to find exactly the right word.
It's crushing, and strangely liberating. To be able to dream that anything is possible, if it were ever even remotely plausible to harness that, and create a new state of mind. That would be a marvel, if I ever found a way, that would make my life.
However, right now, it's not the case, and dreaming anything is possible is a terrifying prospect.

Now I want to make you a promise, only I want you to promise me the same.
I promise that nothing will ever be this bad again. I promise that even in the darkest of places, a light can be found. I will be your light, whenever you need me to be. I will tear at the walls of darkness until there is nothing left, if you'll let me. Between us, darkness will cease to exist past the point of moonlight.


Here's one from months ago, I kind of left the one I intended to publish at work.

These days pass, no thought here,
A smile there, a little cheer,
To laugh, love, live each day,
And barely give anything away,
There, you stare, with mounting fear,
A false hope that the fog will clear,
One thing remains uncertain,
One thing that's clearly hurting,
What it is, you'll never know,
Or feel unknown's glancing blow,
You are designed to withstand,
But does this emptiness force your hand?
Make you live a different way?
No, you make do and stay the same,
Worry seems normal, and fear too,
The absurdness appears in how you do,
Simple tasks with such restraint,
And all because the emotional pain,
Becomes unbearable? Maybe no?
Immobilized by fear and so,
Anew you start every day,
Waking to a new sun's ray.