I've been lax...

Back on the blog bycicle. Work finished, sadly. though i was ill for some of it and sick the rest so i don't remember the finer points as well as i should. christmas day was perfect (thanks to ash and northernshore. family cooking to a whole new level of delicious) and newyears eve was a great link up back with my friends. i don't think Squeak enjoyed it as much though. its not so much her thing and i don't think i give her enough attention when my friends are around and we're doing retarded man child things.
    Fast forward to this week then. Back to aikido, which makes me very happy even though i'm stiffer than a salted dead parrot, and a new year of unemployment brings me to the jobcentre...
    Jobcentre, hah. my meeting is scheduled for 9:00am sharp. As in 'faliure to turn up on time means we won't give you any money, so there'. i turn up, the nice yet slightly intimidating G4Securicor chap leads me to a small sofa and i wait. for FIFTEEN MINUTES. I sprinted down and icy high street and nearly poleaxed a flower shop owner to get here on time, and now i have to sit on my bum with a thumb in it waiting to be called to a desk, where for the entire time nobody has been sitting. Maybe i'm just bitter because i slipped getting out of the car and smacked my head on the doorframe. So much for ninja reflexes.
    All this aside the situation  in the Gaza strip clonks along. It'd be funny if it wasn't so tragic. just a strip of land and nobody there is brave enough to do the ultimate brave thing. Share it. I guess my problems aren't really that much compared to the horrible meat grinder out there fueled by old hate and new money.
     "I was unhappy because i had no shoes, then i saw a man with no feet."

On a positive note (and slightly ironic if you don't understand my moral spiraling) i get to go to sheffield on the 25th to demonstrate the finer points of what the americans like to call MOUT and we're supposed to call FIBUA, fighting in built up areas, and CQB, close quarters battle. what i prefer to call it (at length, and to anyone who;s unfortunate enough to listen to my drivel) is FISH and CHIPS. that is to say, Fighting In Someones House and Causing Havoc In Public Spaces. This will be at the Phoenix CQB site, and i'm glad they're having us back there. Apparently words have been said and without going  into detail some of the regulars were not very nice about us.  It doesn't really bother me, people get worked up on the day, its a fairly intensive sport after all, and tempers flare a bit when the testosterone is flying about as fast as the ammo. I've learned in my journey to being a more laid back, seasoned player, that there are alot of things people do and say and theres bugger all you can do to stop them. I had one gentleman swear blind he'd knocked me out of a game, when in fact he'd hit my teammate, but he couldn't tell the difference between us in our uniforms through the pink mist he was surely looking through. I walked away from that one and called myself out. never a point in arguing, after all, its a game.   
    In fact, there are alot of players who used to annoy me and now just tend to raise a smile and a shake of the head. The first party to crawl up my nose and drive me mental has always been the snobbish gucci crowd. an unfair term, as I hear gucci makes some nice stuff. but still, its a kind of phrase thats dated back hundreds of years. 'all the gear and no idea' . Even the samurai had a word meaning a similar thing, though for the life of me i don't remember it. You've seen the types, flush with money and weighed down with too much shiny kit. it might very well be great gear, and i'm sure much of the emnity stemmed from the fact that i personally and darkly coveted some of it but alot of these people come across the same way. bigtiming it at the beginning of the day with the shiny toys, making comments about the less 'well equipped' players . first hour in they're shouting with the best of them and getting stiched up for their trouble, then the rot really sets in. all the kit is heavy, the shiny weapons haven't been properly calibrated, or worse, have but they haven't been practiced with, and to them, this is crushing. they paid for the suit, the sights, the super tactical gloves, but they aren't better players. how come the guy who games wearing his dads old soldier jacket and a pair of wranglers just leapt out of the darkness like some kind of trendy ninja and took them down? Why did the speccy lad with the low end hong-kong made sniper rifle pick him off from 100 yards while he helplessly sprayed rounds at him that fell short, or went wide? from here on out it goes one of two ways. they gut it out, leave all the bits of kit they;re not using at the safe zone, ask earnestly for some help getting their guns working properly and listen to some friendly banter and advice over lunch. they get to know their teammates a little, and go out again for the next round ready to improve. there are plenty of guys out there who go this way, and really do earn the right to look good in their gucci kit, even if i am jealous from afar.
To be continued...