My little space on the web

Why is it...

Not sure if the title of the post is referring to the blog, or myself.

...buying flowers for your loved one. Not because its Valentine's day, or because you want to apologise. For no reason other than seeing the smile on her face.

...about holding her hand and wondering, naively, if it fits into yours perfectly because of some divine intervention.

...about listening to her whine and thinking that she's cute, even when she's angry and pouting right at you.

...about watching her eat down the last hunk of ice cream and shaking your fist at her for doing so when she's grinning back at you, but loving her all the same.

Romance is, ultimately...
...About finding the one that, no matter what happens, you end up going back to and finding yourself smiling for it.

Cause you know that the first three months of a relationship are always going to be a blissful joy, but after that the problems occur. But no matter what, you stick it through to the end.

It's called a 'labor of love' for a reason.

Okay, well, as this is my place on the web, this will give me ample opportunity to do one thing I've been meaning to do for quite some time.

Rant.

So what's todays rant about? Something we hear about every single day.

I'm not really sure when it all started. Human nature is, of course, curious. And there's nothing more that curious humans love to do than to gossip.

Talk about who's sleeping with whom, who's cheating on what, who's dating this, what she said, what he said...he's a bitch, she's a dick, etc etc etc

That's fine. I'm not ranting about that.

What I've got serious problems is this...celebrity...business.

I really have no idea when it started with. I'm sure that ages ago people were all concerned about who Elvis was dating, and who Marilyn Monroe was sleeping with. It went on to Presidents and movie stars, sport stars with drug habits and rock stars who went into poverty.

But today's world is just ridiculous!

We have "papparazzi" hounding celebrities until they drive themselves to death (look at Princess Diana), until they have no personal life, until marriages break up or celebrities go insane.

But all that's fine, some of you may say, and I'll accept that. It's all part and parcel of the packaged deal. Earn 15 million dollars a movie, and you expect to get hounded by the press.

But what about people like me, who don't want to see this shit?

Every time I walk into a bookstore, at the magazine aisle, we'll see news tabloids filled with the latest 'gossips'. Huzzah! Now I don't have to watch the TV (Channel E anyone?) for it anymore, I can read it when I take a dump. Let's all take a crap whilst reading about Paris Hilton's latest fling.

At the very least, I certainly won't be short of toilet paper in the loo...

But that isn't what really broke the camel's back. The last straw has been the past few days, listening to the radio.

Where every radio station is giving me hourly updates about our 'favorite' celebrities.

Whoop-de frickin' doo?

I get to find out, at any point of the day, at any point of the week, who's dating whom, who slept with what, who farted over which dinner? About people whom I will never meet

And worst of all, celebrities come and go about the same time that I decide to buy a new underwear.

The only thing I can imagine is how empty the lives of people must be if they find exitement or joy in listening about the latest gossip of people they never know, and never will know, to the point they will need hourly or even daily updates.

I know I have enough friends in my life all having plenty of Korean Soap Dramas for me to worry the slightest bit about people who are little more than strangers on a big screen.

A story I wrote a long time ago, this is simply a re-telling.
The story is not really super original, its something I saw in a clip once. The clip however, had a different take then mine, so I've made my own changes to it.

The arrows kept the men down. The shrill whistle of arrows overhead sounded like the Grim Reaper's scythe slicing down their necks. Angrily, the Captain of the guard pulled down the new squire. "Keep your head down!" He hissed angrily. "You want a bleedin' bullseye on yer forehead to help them?"

The squire hid lower than the rest of the men, shamed by the insult. The Captain gave a grumble, muttering to himself. They replaced an old veteran with a new squire...who soon enough, will probably need a replacement himself. A chilling thought shook the Commander's spine, though he hid it well; despite his callous nature, the loss of life amongst those around him affected him deeply.

The Captain gave one look at the flag behind him. The symbol of their proud army was there. A raven, it's wings spread on a blood red background. A fitting symbol for the famed army of the Crimson Knights. A smile drew across the commander's face. That symbol meant many things to him. For the enemy, it was a shout of defiance. To the enemy, it said: 'Here we are...and here we shall stay!'

To him, it meant the promise that troops would rally to the flag. Reinforcements would come, so long as the flag remained standing. The army would not leave their best men stranded. No. They would come...

An explosion of dirt and gravel from a thrown boulder rocked the earth, shaking the Captain from his trance. He turned to watch, seeing a hurtle of bodies fly up along the air. He viewed the sight with a sort of resignation...there was nothing he could do for those poor men. They were losing more and more good soldiers as they waited here.

There came, from behind, a rallying cry. A charge of cavalry, a small group of scouts, lead the foray. Horsemen skilled in melee combat ran past them towards the enemy, screaming in bloodcurdling fury.

Quickly the Captain seized the moment. Grabbing the flag, he stood up atop the wall they were hiding behind, his head turning left and right. His hand was cupped at his mouth, as the flag he carried wavered proudly in the wind. "Rally to the flag! Rally to the flag!"

"Chaaaarrrggeee!" As one man, as one centralized unit, the knights rose up from behind the walls and rushed forwards. Arrows flew from crossbows and swords were drawn pointed towards their enemy...their hated enemy that had kept them entrapped for so long.

Their foe was numerous...their foe was strong. But the men fought valiantly. The Captain waded through bodies, a blade in one hand and a gauntleted fist ready to strike. Faces were smashed, skulls were cleaved, bones were chopped. Unleashed on the battlefield, the Captain was death incarnate himself, his blade tempered not only by experience but by the righteous fury of the death of many fallen comrades.

But then it seemed, the battle was lost. Enemy reinforcements pulled in; Pikemen, armed with deadly spears, dehorsed the cavalry that had given the small company what boost they had, and a line of heavily armored swordsmen, fresh into the fray, found the tired company that had little rest to be of little challenge to their blades. More and more good men were dying, and the Captain could do little more than yell for his men to stay in formation.

'Blitch'. The nasty, moist sound of an arrow penetrating flesh. The Captain's eyes jerked closed in pain. He gritted his teeth together, nearly biting on his tongue. His left arm grew limp, and his sword clattered to the floor. As he stumbled onto his knees, he saw it at last.

The flag. It had fallen onto the floor, it's proud banner stomped on by so many feet. The sounds of steel clashing on steel, of arrows whistling through the air, all of this around him seemed so distant. The sounds of men screaming in pain and in anger, of horses neighing in fear...they all seemed so surreal, as if from some dream.

And yet, all of a sudden, as if possessed the Captain arose. With his workable right hand, he grasped the pole of the flag. And then...he ran.

He ran onwards past his men. He ran onwards past the enemy. He ran onwards past incoming arrows and thrown daggers. He ran like a demon in the wind.

When at last he reached the top of the hill, the enemy found their mark. Arrow after arrow pummeled his back, gouging his flesh, pouring crimson fluid onto the ground. With his last breath he plunged the end of the pole into the ground. As he slumped, face down onto the ground, he turned his head to one side so he could see the flag. His vision grew hazy...everything seemed so dark, so faint, so cold.

The flag wavered proudly in the wind, the fabric rustling in the breeze. And before the Captain passed away, he smiled.

The enemy had won the battle, but for the Captain...the enemy had lost the war. The flag was still standing. The promise was still there. More men would come.

Here we are, the Captain thought.

And here we stay.

While I have lived in various places over the years, this is officially...my first apartment.

That's not saying I never lived in an apartment before, but this is the first one that is officially in my name. It's a big responsibility, as if anything defaults, it all falls back to me.

With such a serious undertaking, it is only fair that the apartment requires a serious name.

And yes, everything was thought through seriously, with a serious filtering process through several names.

The name for the new apartment is...the De-Virginator. Very serious indeed.

But honestly, the place has a lot of potential. It's very 'warm'...walking in, I feel very comfortable with it, and so far have no problems with the housemates.

And there's just so much possibilities! Perhaps I feel like a kid, fantasizing about pirates and spaceships and such, but when I walk in, I can easily imagine what I would do with the place.

Kendo practice, a place for my workouts, a small little TV/monitor for my PS3.

A place for dinners which will involve friends, pizza, beers and laughter.

The possibilities are endless...why, with that fourth empty room, I can even start building that Harem I have always wanted to get around to...