essay beginning i wrote at work with reference to painting

I shall seek to determine, of perhaps, muse on the real reason as to why many people play video games.
For many years, many have enjoyed sliding a block up-and-down the screen blocking and deflecting a small ball and bouncing it back and forth, guiding a yellow monster through a maze all the while avoiding colourful ghosts ready to steal away lives, or even trying the save a princess from a large dinosaur while jumping on top of toothy little monsters and turtles. Each of these games represent different eras of games, and likewise, different generations of gamers, all who strive for that ultimate goal or legendary score.
But why is it that we, as gamers, play games. I’m not here to determine the superficial reasons, such as perhaps the joy of entertainment, reasons of escapism or the sociological benefits from multiplayer games. Games have been described as being mediums of entertainment amongst family, friends and, in modern gaming, strangers via the massive competitive multiplayer arenas; but what I strive to determine is the pure psychological reasons in any single gamer.
While it’s true that games provide a great sense of escapism and can even be a great method for relaxing after a day of arduous tasks, but perhaps there is a reason much more sinister.
It is also true that most people in these modern times are subjected to many demands in life, from work, family, friends and even strangers.

The Lament for Icarus by Herbert Draper

something i wrote at work

If the circumstances of the next few days could have warned me, I would have never come here, but seeing as how any prophetic ability isn’t among the strange occurrences that should eventually occur, I remained ignorant to any future danger. Heck, if I had of known where the agency was sending me, I wouldn’t have come anyways, but unfortunately, when a small seaside town appears on the map, it needs to be explored, and glorified by my own eyes and pen.
Arriving in the small town mere seconds ago, the first thing that struck me was the decrepit state the place was in; a ghost town straight out of some fictional post-apocalyptic imagining; aside from a few cats, the streets remained soulless. The building were arranged unevenly, as if they had been stacked like children’s playthings, each appeared empty, with doors and window curtains pull shut. All of these details I quickly jotted into my notebook.
4 stars.
I passed a great number of these building; a supermarket, a bookshop, antique shop, fishing bait and tackle shop, hardware shop, and finally, my destination, a seemingly small, archaic building marked ‘motel’. I pulled into the driveway, an empty driveway\

Short story addition...

You step inside the shack, greeted by a wealth of new sensations: the warmth hits your chilled face, the smell of food cooking that sends your tastebuds raging with desire: the crackle of an open fire catches you attention. You stand in the doorway almost paralysed. You look to your left and you see a small kitchen, an old-time fire stove in one corner, a bubbling pot on top. In the center of the kitchen is a small bench top, a knife lies idly amongst an assortment of recently cut fresh vegetables. The smell of food grows stronger in that direction, so you dare not go closer. You glance to the left, the direction of the warmth: here is where the lounge is, against the far wall you see the fire place, flickering gently. Near to the fire place is an empty child's cot, a striped dark tie hanging off it. Alongside it was a table littered with an assortment of stuff - a big enamal mug, a tin of Johnson's Baby Powder, a sugar bowl, several toys, a pair of glasses and a wooden fruit bowl. Two small wooden chairs sit near the table.
Everything here is perfect, so perfect that you dont even begin to question why you are here: the only thing stuck in your mind is the illogical absence of a soul, why no one is around.
Still standing in the doorway, you decide to step inside and close the door behind you. Directly in front of you is a small hallway: against your better judgement, you decide to investigate further. Shaking your boots free of snow, you step onto the wooden floorboards and into the hall. Here there are two small rooms, again, one to the left, and one to the right.

... To be continued.

Short story segment... 8/4/10

You open your eyes, however you immediately shut them again as you are blinded by the whiteness around you. Slowly, as your eyes grow uccustomed to the light, you begin to realise where you are: you see snow all around you, black silhouettes dancing against the white backdrop: they are trees. You are in a forest, it is winter, but not cold. You inhale, the air is fresh,but you can smell something faint in the air... it's a smell you remember, the smokey smell of food roasting on a fire. You start to tredge through the snow. /crunch/ /crunch/ Your senses are working overtime, picking up on every sound and smell that's carried through the air.
Sudden, you step out of a clearing, onto harder ground, where the the snow makes a dimmer crunch: it is a path, it has been disturbed recently, you know this of course because you see many footprints imprinted in the snow: large, broad ones, medium sized skinny ones and a pair of tiny ones alongside the biggest. You follow this path, the smell in the air to good to resist. Soon you happen across a wood pile placed just off the path, there is an axe embedded in a cut log.

To be continued...

Poem I wrote... quick-unedited

Man, like a tree
lifts up his urgent arms
to heaven
and, like a tree
his roots reach out to find and to explore
the deepest regions of the mind.
If, like a tree, a man
should shelter in his day
the other living things of earth:
if underneath his shade
the twigs of knowledge
and the leaves of joy
should come to birth:
then haply, like a tree,
a man may fall
and sleep within his roots
and, like a tree,
be known by his fruits.

Update: I will now be posting irregularly from my DSi XL.

I will be posting writing segments to this blog via my DSi XL. The purpose is to make it a 'on-the-go' note taking system. Seeing as how this is meant to be a private thing, if anyone stumbles across this blog... comment to let me know. Cheers.