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Hello Ladies, and Gentlemen, and Greetings, to One, and All.
Whether you be Plant, Animal, or Machine, welcome to my humble, little, demonstration.
I am Astronut7, the narrator, main character, and IDIOT of this tale.
I knew there was something I forgot.
Here we are on Chapter 9.
In the United Kingdom, the Emergency services can be reached, through dialing 999.
In the USA and Canada, the Emergency services can be found on 911, usually underneath the rubble.
In Australia, and New Zealand, which likes to take the piss, the emergency services may be reached through 000, Target Locked.
Please note, that unless your situation is critical, you may be left to suffer a slow, lingering death.
Please also remember that SOS signals are only for those who wish their souls to be saved. If you find yourself lacking one, please dial another number.
For the rest of you, I can only offer words which helped me find my way.
This is, of course, a gamble. Because once the way is known, somebody always comes along to shut the door in people's face.
Those caught in the middle may find the edge of said door are quite sharp.
So, keeping that in mind, here is my profile from FIVE YEARS AGO, when I was caught in the middle of a bad situation, with no money to call my own, no prospects for the future, and my identity stolen, because people wanted to make money off travellers, and incomers, regardless of how many bits and pieces they made.
Chapters One through Three were made at around the same time. Chapter Four, I only started a few weeks ago, having resolved one of the challenges I faced.
PROLOGUE ENDS PROLOGUE ENDS PROLOGUE ENDS PROLOGUE ENDS PROLOGUE ENDS.
Profile: Last Updated 07-05-2016
Um...
This is where I put stuff about myself?
Right. This is where I put stuff that I'm comfortable sharing with anyone who wants to find out information about my person.
Huh.
Well, I suppose I can give you my default response.
I've lived in various places around the world on multiple occasions. A few different states in Australia. A couple of different provinces in Canada. Some counties in England.
I've also visited a lot of places. Various countries in Europe. Austria. Switzerland. Germany. France. Belgium. Poland. Scotland. Wales. A few others that I don't count, as I was just passing through. I've been to America. I've been to [correction: Singapore, with Japanese tourists fascinated by golden hair] Japan for a couple of weeks-although I unfortunately don't remember much of it, aside from a frantic hunt for a missing hat for whatever reason.
I've stopped over in a few other places around the world, but they really don't count. Aside from the different languages being spoken, one large airport is pretty much just like another, and one small airport is also pretty much just like any other. Ditto for docks, train stations, and central bus stations. They might have some differences in the predominant languages being spoken, in the exorbitantly expensive tourist gimmicks they sell, in the cuisine they offer, and in how obtrusively the security guards carry their weapons, but fundamentally, all terminals are the same: they make you hurry up and wait.
A lot of the time, travelling is spent in transit, or waiting to be in transit.
In these situations, you need a good book.
I usually carry about 20 or so in my luggage.
I'm sure that someone reading this is probably thinking, 'But you can get hundreds of books on a Kindle!'
Or perhaps, 'Why not bring a handheld game console?'
Or maybe, 'Why not use your oh-so-smart phone-slash-tablet-with-a-camera-and-internet-connection to keep yourself entertained?'
My answer to that is: no. No, no, no, and no. Those are bloody stupid gimmicks and everyone who doesn't think with their nearest accessible credit card knows it. Honestly.
No offense intended. If you've got money to spare, and can stand to live with an inordinate amount of electronic clutter, then go right ahead. Don't let me stop you. Just don't try and convince me to get one.
Besides, Kindles, handheld game consoles, tablets, a WiFi connection-their functions can be combined and superseded by a single item: the laptop. Admittedly, the handheld game console may have a few exclusive games, and the not-so-smart-camera-phone has two functions that would be better off as individual items (the phone, as an emergency portable text and auditory communications system, and the camera, which should have a mechanical zoom lens for best picture quality, as opposed to the digitally 'enhanced' megapixel rubbish which should be done with editing software on an actual computer with professional or professional-grade free software and not a FFL cameraphone), but the vast majority of applications that handheld electronic items feature can be accomplished using a laptop.
I really don't like gimmicks.
'Aha!' I hear someone cry. Actually I don't. I seriously doubt anyone is going to want to read this. I'd be somewhat perplexed and suspicious if you did want to read this. I also don't hear voices. I'm going to be very emphatic on that point. I am not crazy [HA!]. I am not required to hold on to a piece of paper which states that I am not crazy. [No, because in those situations, you can't access your medical information] I am also not required to carry around a piece of paper that states that I am human. I am not writing this profile at 4am after not having stayed awake all night. This is not a suspiciously specific denial, [brought to mind after reading about Nobby Nobbs.]
I am under no obligation to tell the truth whilst writing this profile.[Except I can't help myself on that front, even if it's to people not likely to take the truth kindly].
Where was I?
'Aha!' I hear someone cry. 'Why not bring a laptop to the airport?'
It's quite simple: I don't want to lose, damage, break, or have a relatively expensive piece of equipment be stolen, damaged. or broken. It would also be a pain to have to replace everything on the laptop, have multiple backups for another computer, and have to change all my passwords if said item was stolen.
So yes, I carry around an inordinate amount of books with me on any long journey or move. This also makes it a little more difficult for a thief to walk away with my 30 kilo suitcase. I also get a bit of exercise.
I can also, depending on the length of the book, and how bored I may be, read those 20 books in four or five days.
This is not an idle boast. It currently takes me about two days to read a 1-million word book. That's including breaks, meal preparation, periods where my mind wanders off and does something else, the 24 hours that I sleep during that time, and miscellaneous other activities. An average book like Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is 76,944 words long.
I guess you could say I am proud of that fact. There are very few things that I feel I can be proud of.
Admittedly, there is barely anything that I really despise about myself. In fact, there's only three things:
1. The fact that I keep making the same mistakes. [Random error. It turns out, my mind was hacked].
2. The fact that I didn't try harder. [I'm sorry, but nobody can stand alone. That's not how perpetual motion machines work].
3. The fact that I failed. [At the Kobayashi Maru. Nobody told me it was impossible. So I broke the test.]
There's a few more things that I'm ashamed about. But I simply don't have the energy left to despise them.
4. The fact that I lied. [Because the truth was incomprehensible to my teachers. Feed me, you louts. That goes all the way up the chain].
5. The fact that I didn't help when able. [Because I only had two hands].
6. The fact that I ran away. [And then I came back].
7. The fact that I have so much left undone. [Yeah, I forgot, I don't have the tools to build planets. I left those at my parent's house].
Did I mention that I have depression? I'm pretty sure that it's an intrinsic part of my personality by now. I've had it for at least a decade-that I can remember, anyway.
Oh, in case you're concerned-no, I'm not suicidal. I get that question asked of me infrequently, but often enough that I don't consider it to be unusual. No need to be embarrassed.
See, the thing you may not have picked up on is the fact that I've always lived in the first crap-sack world. I don't have a house. I don't have a car. I don't have a job. I don't have a school. I don't have a lot of money. I haven't made a family. I've left my friends behind again and again. I've gotten rid of most of what I have owned, again and again.
I'm practically blind in one eye, and I can't see very well with the other. [And now I'm registered blind].
But I can see well enough to read comfortably with that eye, if I'm about a foot away from whatever I'm reading. [It varies. Sometimes it hits zero].
There's another question that people usually ask. I forget what it is. It's now 5am.
Ah.
Why?
Why did I move?
It's a relatively mundane reason, really. Oh, you still want to know?
Well, at first it was because I was basically a military brat-I think the longest I've ever stayed in one place is...two years? Two and a half? I'm not sure. Probably an average of six months or less, anyway. [Follow orders. Question everything. Eat when you can. Starve when ordered. Never complain without a doctoral thesis ready to submit in the next ten seconds, which shall be triple checked by scientific analysis over the next ten years before we provide you your next meal. Please remain five years old.]
Then, when I was making my own decisions, it was simply whichever place was the most convenient.
I'm currently living in a shared property. It's convenient. I don't even know the names of half the people currently living in this property. People move in and out. I've been here for over a year. I haven't had a reason to leave.
I did say it was a mundane reason.
Where was I?
Oh yes. The topic of suicide.
I'm not sure why people think that suicide is an option to be honest. It may be a controversial topic, and people who are depressed (me) may have suicidal thoughts (not me), but I really don't get it. It's like those people who say "I'd rather die than do this," or perhaps, "I'd rather die than have that happen to me," or even, "Why should I bother living? I don't have a reason to live."
I mean, wow. Really? See the thing is, death is kind of permanent. Nobody really knows what someone actually experiences when they die (or after they are dead). There's a distinct lack of concrete evidence for anything other than the observed 'well, you kind of stop, and then the body starts decomposing, and then it either gets eaten or goes through rapid oxidation,' but that's what is observed, not what is experienced.
There's a distinct lack of non-organic, possibly non-corporeal entities divulging pertinent information on what it was like to decompose.
Mind you, there hasn't been anyone who's been through the entire decomposition process and explicitly stated that there is no afterlife...
...why the bleep would you trust what a ghost said in the first place?
There's also a distinct lack of consensus as to how any afterlife would be run. I mean, do we still have to pay taxes? Are streaming services available? Are people still able to have sex? Are there any good bookstores? How do you translate between caveman-speak and modern day [insert language of choice here]?
What's the cuisine of the afterlife like? How do the bathrooms function? Can you die in the afterlife? Is there an after-afterlife?
sigh* We all have a one-way ticket to what appears to be the same destination. Is that destination crowded? Because if it is, then you should know that I don't like crowds.
Leaving aside the metaphysical aspect of the problem, death is practically the same thing as multiple organ failure. I don't know anyone who has ever said that living in a body that just underwent catastrophic multiple organ failure solved any of their problems.
So yeah, "I'd rather have systemic organ failure than [insert blank here]?" That's a line that clearly causes way more problems than it solves.
What am I missing?
Oh, yes. Reasons to live. Right.
Pfffttt...HAHAHAHAHAHA!
People think they need a reason to live. That's adorable.
Actually, it's quite serious. People like that cling to a purpose. They have drive. They have motivation. They get things done. Then they get tired, finish whatever they started, or simply don't have the energy to go any further, and then suddenly BAM! No purpose, no direction. Something they're completely unfamiliar with and unequipped to deal with, so they wander around with their brains disengaged and their eyes vacant, thinking they're actually enjoying retirement when suddenly, two years after they quit their high profile high stress job they're dead of natural causes.
Never cling to just one purpose. Your life is worth more than that. If you commit to only one purpose in life, then when that purpose is taken away from you, you die.
Humans are not specialists. Our greatest advantage as a species and as individuals is that we're slightly better at problem solving than other animals, we can throw crap at each other, we have opposable thumbs, we walk upright, and we're pretty good at dogged pursuit of our targets. Everything else we're pretty bad at.
Did I mention that it's 6:30am, I have not slept, and I am literally just typing random stuff up on the computer? I don't even know what I'm typing. Wasn't this supposed to be a profile page or something?
Right. Right. Profile page.
So, I like fiction. Science fiction and fantasy. Otherwise known as speculative fiction.
Anything where I can get a sense that the characters are undergoing an adventure, really. Not into romance, unless it supports the story. Too many stories only serve to support the romance and I've got to say that those stories are shameless drivel.
Seriously, sex is dull. The process of wooing your partner is dull. You may as well click on all those pop-up ads if that's all you are interested in a story.
Did I mention that despite travelling the world, seeing and doing things that most people can only dream of doing, I'm apparently missing out on a few absolutely essential life experiences? Personally, I don't think so.
No, think about it. What distinguishes one tepid sex scene from another? It's always the circumstances, the people, the places, what happened before, what happened afterwards. What the consequences were. Whether or not someone barged in whilst the act was taking place. You get the idea. The important parts of a sex scene happen to be everything about the sex scene apart from the sex.
I have about as much interest in reading about sex as I do reading about urination, defecation, vomiting, and pompous political prattle. They're all pretty much the same thing anyway, and just in case, when I said that I have about as much interest I mean that I. have. no. interest.
Romance, on the other hand? *shrugs* It basically falls under the same heading as political maneuvering with the intent to get laid. Confused? Politics can be defined as 'activities aimed at improving someone's status or increasing power within an organization,' and organization can be defined as a group of people with a particular purpose.
So yes. I just said that Romance = Politics.
Huh. Funny how my brain works.
Oh. Speculative fiction, in any form by the way. Books. Comics. Manga. Anime. Cartoons. Video Games. Web novels. Webcomics. Fanfiction. Radio plays. TV. Movies. Youtube productions. Machinima. I don't really care what the medium is, as long as I can get access to it without a whole load of hoopla and it has a decent story. If it doesn't have a decent story, then I'm not interested.
If you're interested in examples, just check out my favourites list. It is not really representative of everything I like. I mean, I have about 500 novels and 200 video games that don't have anything to do with my Fanfiction favourites list. Mostly secondhand. If there's something else I'm proud of, it's not spending an absurd amount on something when I can get it secondhand.
Currently planning on writing a fanfiction story in order to...
Wait. What part about this profile is my default response to anything?
Ah. Okay. Where I've lived. What I think about Death. What I think about Life. What I think about Sex. What I want to improve about myself.
I see.
I've given you my thoughts on the important stuff. My default response is typically just the places I've lived and the fiction I like, and then whoever asked me the question has their eyes glaze over and they inevitably wander off.
Their eyes might stay focused, but they still wander off. Likely not because they're being rude, but because my primary interaction with people has been, one way or another, in waiting rooms.
Waiting for the bus. Waiting for the plane.
Waiting for the boat. Waiting for the train.
Waiting for the Doctor. Waiting for the Nurse.
Waiting for the Teacher. Waiting for the Hearse.
Waiting for the food.
My bladder's about to burst.
Hold on a moment.
I see that I have descended to the depths of bad poetry. Really bad poetry. I've never written poetry. I don't see why I should start now.
Moving on.
Is there anything that I haven't covered thus far about the important questions? I think I've covered all the basic stuff that falls under the 'don't talk about at the dinner table' rule. Death. Money. Sex. Politics. Drugs. Alcohol. Religion...
Hmm...
Is there a God? With a plan for us and stuff?
Does it matter? Look, if at any point I find evidence that there is a God, the first thing I'm going to do is yell at him "What the hell were you thinking?"
That's pretty much it. I don't really expect an answer. The question wasn't about anything specific.
In all honesty, I think that God exists solely for us to have someone to blame.
Or was that the Devil? I get the two confused sometimes.
I used to go to Sunday School. I read the Bible. Despite the somewhat dry descriptions of events, the Bible is totally awesome.
No. Take a good long look at the bible. You have genocide. Murder. Rape. Betrayal. Genocide. More Genocide. Magic people that walk on water. Revolutions. Martyrdom. Escape from slavery. Revenge. Smiting. Scheming. Adventure. Prophecy. Forgiveness. Love. Friendship. Promises. Stupidity. Bravery. More stupidity. The End of the World. The Beginning of the World. The End of the World Again. Not necessarily in that order.
Oh, and it's apparently ~780,000 words long. Over 5 billion of them printed. Most influential book in history. Yeah.
Alcohol? Drugs? No thanks. I have few enough brain cells as it is. I have no desire to indulge in things that would reduce that number.
I have to wonder though. At all the waiting rooms I've been in, very few people talk to strangers.
I mean, is it just me? Is it my presence? I've engaged people in conversation. On rare occasions, people have engaged me in conversation in these waiting rooms. We have long discussions. We talk. One of us leaves when our waiting time is up. We never see each other again.
Yet it is so very, very rare for someone to have an extended conversation with someone they are unfamiliar with. It is so very, very rare an occasion that I see people that just seem to be enjoying the company of people in transit. Most people have this dour look on their face and they have nothing to do whilst they're waiting. Or just walking down the street, treating everyone else like bits of mobile background scenery.
I've heard it said that humans are social animals.
You could have fooled me.
What does it say about this 'social animal' called humanity that individuals have to go to specific places to meet new people? To imbibe substances to help us loosen our tongues and ease our minds before we can interact with other people as human beings? To effectively switch our brains off and damn the consequences before we can say what we really think?
Perhaps it's just me. Perhaps I have a warped perspective. But I have no desire to be a part of a society that seems this shallow. That's this fragile. I have no desire to be a part of it, and I have no talent to actually improve it.
I have no talent. Or rather, I have no useful talent. I have a depressive personality, so I can't get an accurate reading on how little talent I may or may not have, and I don't necessarily trust the opinions that others have about the quantity and quality of talent(s) they tell me I have.
I'm lazy. If I'm guilty of any of the seven deadly sins, then it is the sin of Sloth.
I cannot focus on the things I want to focus on. On the things I need to focus on to get anything done.
Right now, I've been typing practically nonstop for the last eight hours. I didn't plan on it. I was actually planning on doing something else. I wrote a review, in which I thoroughly read through a 21,000 word chapter, twice, located the errors, researched and fact-checked a few things, and then I wrote this. In total, I've written a mere 5,500 words, practically stream of thought over that period of time.
I enjoyed it. Somewhat. Kind of nervous now.
I don't typically enjoy essay writing, simply because I can't focus on the essay writing.
I don't think I can write a story. Maybe I can, maybe I can't. The longer I look at my own work, the worse I feel, the more disgusted I get with it. That's how I think, and I know I'm doing it, even when there's evidence suggesting that I'm wrong. Maybe I do have a small aptitude for creating things.
But I can't believe that.
On the other hand, I do have one thing I can use: my negativity.
I am very good at pulling apart the stories I enjoy. Nowhere near the best out there. But I think I'm better than par for the course. Maybe. Hopefully. Pointing out the areas that can be improved. Grammar, spelling, flaws in the story, deviances from canon, things that just don't make any sense. I don't waste my time on stories I don't enjoy, so if you ever see me review your story, it's because I really enjoyed it, I think it has potential, and I simply cannot bear to see it fall short.
I think I'd like to become a Beta Reader for stories on this site. English only. Despite travelling the world, I never learned another language. Odd.
Wish me luck.
I really hope I don't regret writing this profile page. I'm really, really hoping that won't happen.