Assholes. Assholes everywhere!

Ok. So just a quick rant, on the stupidity of people, and the general fuckwittery that is part of our “culture” or whatever.

It is almost a hardcoded thing an "average bloke" seems to be doing: try to hit on/flirt with/HARASS (EMPHASIS ADDED) ANY woman who is left alone for more than 0.5 seconds... I mean fuck, I leave my girlfriend alone for a SECOND to buy a drink, and at least two creeps will be trying it on in my absence. It is almost as if their "target selection algorithm" is based on "if girl = alone: harass". This bullshit... AAAAAARGH. (vague threats involving a shovel, a spare carpet, and a bag of lime...). I mean fuck. Do they not get the idea that a girl on her own may not be interested in their obvious advances?

The worst part is, they do it in a horrible manner. They ASSUME no one is going to say no to them, because they CLEARLY are the biggest catch in town, and things like courtesy, manners, and general civility are for lesser peons. These blokes tend to be the type who believe they are “the shit”, and if confronted, there is a chance they will tell one to “fuck off, faggot”.

Now, most of the time these are also the biggest cowards around - they bugger off sharpish the second I start coming back, so I never get a chance to dispense a few lessons in respect and good grace.

They, while annoying, are not the worst though... The worst are the types who will NOT leave. Thus far I have had the good luck to never have to confront one, but they are out there. The kind who believe “no” is “yes but playing hard to get”. You know the type I am referring to - the creepy probably-future-rapist type guy, that CP’s and such seem to cater to.

The whole nightclub thing is not really my scene, as most know. Sure, I do not mind going out clubbing, and I like Carbon. I just prefer a pub. More civilized, less fuckwits trying it on, and less idiocy.
Nightclubs, on the other hand, tend to cater toward the young male who wants to “get locked” and “get the ride”. Load of shite. Even some (most) of the marketing tends to this, as do some of the promo stuff. “Get really fucking drunk and sleep with someone”. Does not matter that the “someone” may be barely capable of walking, its “all good craic” apparently.
FUCK THAT.

This “cattle market” (how me mam refers to CP’s) kind of atmosphere is basically pushing the anti-feminism thing further, and helping ensure that everything remains male dominated. Which is fucking disgusting and shite in general.

Now, for the question. Is being a single woman (or a woman on her own) in a nightclub overall a good or a bad experience? I cannot say. But I am sure someone can in the comments :)

*Note: For international readers, the slang terms used are local ones. But a quick bit of thinking will help you work out what they mean...

What the fuck?

Something is seriously wrong here. My theme on this blog has changed to be all cheerful and bright colours as opposed to my favoured white letters on a grey background.

Oh well. May as well stick with the ridiculously flamboyant theme for now...

RTFM

Just READ THE FUCKING MANUAL!
Ok, this is a looong awaited rant. About idiot users and silly people in general.

So, $(Average Computer User) will often come to me with “How do I do $(Simple Task)”. I will often refer them to the manual, instructions, help documents, FAQ, or, give them an introduction to a magical button known as “F1”, or the “I’m an idiot get me out of here!” button. AKA “HELP”.

For Linux/UNIX users, I instead will refer them to a thing called “man pages”, or, “The Fucking Manual”. Most programs have one. Invoking “man <program name>” brings up the man page, aka, the fucking manual.

Now, I normally tell first time offenders this in a well meaning manner, in the hope they will become independant and learn to solve problems themselves.

Unfortunately, it would appear Homo Sapiens Userus is incapable of doing so.
This, sadly, does not just apply to IT.

In real life, I see people handed things like “Student guidebooks” on Day-1 of college. Documents with maps, instructions, etc. Helpful things, designed to be retard friendly. SO long as said fuckwit can read.
OF course, reading is FAR above the average modern user. Especially the type who needs help figuring out the simplest things, like reading their timetable the right way up.

“Read the bloody manual? Fuck that, I will just annoy you instead!”. The amount of times some dolt asked me for directions to a place he had JUST BEEN SHOWN made me wonder was it OK to commit genocide if it only was wiping out the idiots.

The number of times someone asked me to explain how to do X (normally it was register online, which required nothing more than clicking a few buttons... FAR less work than logging into Facebook or tagging a photo), despite the fucking instructions and the assistants on-hand, was beyond comprehension. I actully felt part of my brain melt and dribble out my left ear due to this.

People often wonder why I always seem to know what I am doing and such. No, it is not because I have repeated the same year of college 3 years running, it is because I have figured out that “the manual” exists for a fucking good reason - for you to read it and stop asking bloody stupid questions.
So. What was the meaning of this post, besides as an excuse to vent? Well. To get a simple message across.

Things have instructions.
Instructions are simple.
You are simple.
Read the fucking instructions.
Follow the fucking instructions.
Now that hard thing is simple.
Much like you.
You just did that thing.
Good for you.
RTFM or GTFO.

* as an aside, for would-be programmers: help(function) in Python, perldoc $modulename in Perl, man (function) in C (UNIX), and the MSDN is a good start to consider... Instead of spamming the ever living fuck out of me every time you cannot work out how to format a print statement!

Recovery

I can safely admit I would not be present today, if it were not for a few incredibly well placed people who came into my life at the right time, and essentially got me to get the fuck back up, and start being a person again.

Last September, in the beginning of what was to be a “rebirth” of sorts, I was barely even human.

I could not eat.

I could not sleep, save for passing out periodically.

I could not talk to people properly, I felt like what I had done, and the events my actions had caused, had turned me into some kind of pariah. A fringe-person, to be shunned by society for their misdeeds.

At that time, I barely even thought like a human being. My mind was hanging somewhere in cyberspace, lost in a sea of “WTF?!”, Nyan Cat, and total insanity. It was essentially malfunctioning beyond belief.

For a look at what it would have looked like, see the following...

Begin Boot Sequence.

[+] Init ramdisc.... Done!

[+] Load Kernel.... Done!

[-] Load Human.... Fail!

[!] Warn: Kernel Module ‘Human’ failed to load!

Kernel Panic!

Overwriting Swap Space!

Reboot...

Essentially, imagine a computer stuck in an endless loop, unable to load its operating system. A completely defective device on its way to overheating and catching fire/blowing up.

Luckily, someone was present to deliver a “hard reset” of sorts, by way of kindness and being a nice person.

It was only a few days after everything had rather spectacularly blown up in the expected hollywood-esque fashion, and my days as a bad guy hacker person had drawn to an end - one which was expected, but never really believed in.

I was walking into college, thinking about how fucked everything was, wondering where to go from here. The simplest things, like getting a cup of coffee (my primary objective that morning) seemed to be unimaginable tasks. Like climbing Mt Everest in pyjamas and slippers. Completely unfathomable, and rather frightening.

It was just as I started to really begin to panic, when a person I knew appeared. I had only met her a couple of times, but she seemed to figure something was up. Probably the look of sheer fucking panic and “WTF” that seemed to be my constant expression at that time. A short conversation ensued, and for some reason, I ended up feeling a shitload better.

She had essentially put me on the road back to “being a fucking person”, and throughout the next while, would occasionally put me back on track when I veered off a bit. No idea HOW, and I even at one point questioned her very existance (yes, that is a thing - wondering is a person actually real, or some kind of cosmic fucking intervention) - but within an incredibly short amount of time, I was able to talk to people. To sleep. Eventually I started actually eating food at somewhat more regular intervals than “sometime, just not now”. 

A while later, this person made me question everything about my nature. A damn good thing, that, because without that, I am not sure if I would have gotten so far.

So, that person (who is not named here), you know who you are, and seriously, I owe you big time. Pretty much owe you my life.

You, are fucking awesome. Thank you.

Skip forward a short while, and things seem to be looking up a bit. A short interlude of idiocy occurred, wherin some things were experimented with that should not have been experimented with, however just as I was fixing up myself and realizing that complete oblivion is not the correct way to forget a problem, another event was appearing on the horizon that would drastically alter my life.

So it was a weekend, and to celebrate the birth of two of my friends, I had headed out to the town for the usual. Some pretty serious drinking, and some craic. I expected to wake up with a lack of memory and a hangover, as per the norm, before finding some daft photos of me attempting to dance* on facebook or something. Something like that.

Instead, I met someone who would immediately change fucking EVERYTHING. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I went and fell in love. And got myself into a relationship.

 

This in itself was a test of kinds, as I had said to myself I would not be getting involved with anyone until I got my shit sorted out. Would not be fair to drag someone into the mess I call a “life”. Especially with the uncertain legal situation.

However, when I met her, it was like “DISREGARD THAT! PLAN CHANGED!”.

A short time later, the shit really hit the fan. Remember what I said about unfair bringing someone into the mess I call a life?

It got messier.

A LOT messier.

Early March, a Tuesday evening, and the only things on my mind were “when do I see her again?” and a particularly troubling Python problem I was trying to solve. I was sitting down, writing an article for my site, when I perchance clicked “news”.

And saw my photo pop up. Over 9000 times. “Oh, fuck.”

The FBI had gone and had me indicted in a court in New York. Nice of them to forget to inform me of the indictment - the first I heard was Fox News.

Scanning the newsfeeds, a lot of things came to light. I had been indicted for a couple of computer crimes, my old friend Sabu was a snitch (something I figured out by myself following my arrest, but I had suspicions and no proof), and that shit had gotten a little bit out of hand.

And that I was now 25, according to the ever reliable media.

First order was to tell my girlfriend, then mock the media on Twitter about my age. Then fucking panic.

I had far too much to lose now, in sharp contrast to 6 months before. I had a new life. A girlfriend I loved. Some work to do. Shiny things to research.

The next while was a complete mess, with media intrusion, and complete paranoia. I took to sneaking around campus, taking alternate routes, and running away from ANYONE who was carrying a camera. Even the “harmless” hipsters. Everything I said online ended up in some article or other, along with everything I ALLEGEDLY said. I had emails from everyone including the bloody Late Late Show.

All of which were ignored.

Amazingly, despite the complete shit-hitting-fan, she stuck by me. And all was well. Life went on. Sure, for a few months my paranoia was set to “maximum”, but I was able to be a fucking human.

Thats it. Without those two people, I would probably not have lasted this long. I would not have come so far. So, to those two, seriously. I owe ye my fucking life.

*From memory, other peoples comments and more than a few photos, my “dancing” is, well, imagine the product of an insane (but amazing) choreographer (yes, I used to be on stage), combined with a sizeable amount of alcohol, and “something”. Wherin the end goal is to NOT lose a single drop from a full pint glass.

Breaking Radio Silence

So, my "ranty shite and personal crap" blog has lain dormant for approximately 6 months now.
Mostly because of nothing to write about.

Fear not, plenty of ranting on the way!

Adrift in the sea of indecision

/* Yet another un-edited post... Expect more typoes */

Indecision. The inability to decide, to choose.
To be able to choose assumes one has choices, options, different routes to pick from.

In an equation, in math, physics, or even an algorithm or function in a program, there will always be variables if the program, equation or algorithm is to do something useful. The variables are the choices that cause the function, algorithm or equation to "do something".

Here the issue is several choices and no predefined function or equation that will let me decide logically which to choose.

It all began a couple of months ago... When I realized that I actually had regained the ability to "feel". I had been numb for so long, willingly denying myself the ability to feel certain emotions, trying to protect self from emotional harm.

Instead I became a complete bastard at times, as I could not comprehend certain things, ignored certain people, and generally caused a bit of pain in general by blanking everything.

Now I have options, and don't know what to do with 'em. I could just randomly choose from them using a rand() type function but, no idea. Could do more harm than good.

I have people from my past coming back and causing me significant amounts of pain and such (mentally) by putting choices there, and I would be lying if I said I felt nothing. I have new people who also seem to be acting as if they are another choice, but I don't know how to trust them. I have to trust them if I am to decide, as nothing in life will succeed without trust to some degree.

There was a lot more to this that I [backspaced] out as I didn't feel like finishing it.

ah well.

/*ends*/

Incoherence, memory, and the past.

/* Please note, this post has not been edited or checked. It is as I write it in my current state, so typoes may proliferate throughout the text */



Well, last 24 hours have been strange. I planned to spend ""forever alone day" at home with my cat, Stephen King, and a fuckload of chocolate.

Instead, some friends had half convinced me to go out by the time I got home, and my plans of bed, kitteh, books and chocolate were blow'd up. By the cat.

Seems she got stuck in my room or something, because she left a lovely maloderant package on my bed. All over it. "Not sleeping here tonight... Room needs time  to air". Cleaned mess up, had shower + food, went to town.

At first it seemed it would be an average, dull night (with extra hilarity from all the downbeat people around - you could TASTE the depression and rejection in the air), however that changed awful fast.

Had a couple (a few) drinks, and was actually having a pretty decent time and enjoying mild intoxication when it happened.

I ended up running into my ex... And almost lost my hold on self. So much unresolved stuff, so much un-dealt-with emotions, so much locked away. All came bursting loose. Like the fucking hoover dam in my mind decided to blow.

Few more drinks later, and a few conversations with her, and I was remembering the last ~6 years or so with incredible clarity (not just the last two, seemed she sparked memories from before I met her also), being bombarded inside with massive amounts of stimuli. Mind == BLOWN.

Overall, kept up appearances, nothing externally visible in public. Just "kept calm and carried on".

Inside, I still don't know what the fuck. I am still trying to handle this massive amount of information, all these memories, all this emotional stuff that has re-emerged.

Might I add, this time of year was never particularly easy for me. Never liked it. never could enjoy it. So this kind of mental tidal wave or avalanche of "stuff" is not exactly good, considering self.state(current).

Currently as people who read this will know, I am trying to deal with a few issues. One being how I "react" to people. The other being how I read people. I often misread, false positives or false negatives depending on subject matter and level of self delusional optimism or pessimism.

I have likely blown more than one chance to move on with life by being Mr Socially Awkward or Mr Standoffish at the wrong moment, but that was likely due to any number of factors. Number one being the little pessimism problem, which stems from fear. Fear of everything. Fear of unknown variables.

Not to mention, people who read this also know I get angry very easily. I know I cannot fix that, but I can at least try fix the "response". Ranting about it here is part of that - blowing off excess steam, etc. I have to get rid of it somewhere, else may cause self trouble again.

All in all, last 24 hours have caused a massive excess of memory, etc.

Now for the big problem: what am I gonna do next? I have choices, options are open. Just no fucking idea what to do with 'em. No idea what ones I should take, should I base my decisions on logical choice or on feeling? No idea. Should one base emotional choice on a logical arguement or just go with ones feelings?

No idea.



(Remember. Title included word "incoherence", so coherence was not my objective. I think. I dunno)