Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Halo Intentions

Five times I slapt the snooze button on my alarm clock Saturday morning; once for each hour that I'd been asleep. At 12:52pm afternoon, it wasn't my alarm clock's knuckle-cracking pops that woke me up, it was brother fucking with the volume so that it sounded like a pinto radio on a hilly insterstate...loud. soft. Loud, soft. Had my blanket been more of a blanket and less of a flour tortilla, I would've jumped up swinging.

Thrity minutes later, I stood between my neighbor and her 10 year-old daughter pulling on a white, nylon rope outfitted with 4 stick handlebars attached to a 15-foot, upright cedar tree. It was too early for that shit. A half hour of that, the sawed carnage sat by the curb and I finally sat down to my first cup of coffee.

We bought Halo last Friday night and played for 8 hours, starting at 10pm. Sometime between then and now, I thought I could be either the perfect soldier or the perfect example of a discharged soldier. I'm walking around this game, see my gun-sights flicker red and I'm off following bullets like the tail of a comet (yeah, I know a comet tail actually leads the comet itself, but pretend for a minute that the simile works). Sometimes, that strategy even works, but tick-marking deaths, I've sacrificed myself probably twice as many times as my roommate.

Friday afternoon, I actually got bored enough that I wanted to write this post. I've been thinking about the dwindling number of new military recruits. No branch of the military has met its monthly recruiting goals. In my PATRIOT-Act-conspiracy-theoried-mind, it's only a matter of time before the FBI starts hacking into the Internet gaming world to look for gun-toting possibilities, not unlike the aliens seek out The Last Starfighter.

There are 13 and 14 year-old kids that can multi-task weapon re-loading, strategy, fingertip aim, and lateral thinking abilities. These kids have higher IQs than the average American adult, better hand-eye coordination than most world-renowned surgeons, and have fun doing it than surfing for Internet porn. Sending these kids into Iraq would be like a weekend of no parents and binge-gaming for them.

I wrote all that Friday afternoon from the perspective a recruiter talking to the gamer. And, it was good despite being written in the middle of the afternoon rather than the middle of the night. Then, the computer locked-up just before i hit the "post" button. Can you fucking believe it? I damn near lost it and I'm talking "well, Bob, i wouldn't really say i've missed work" lost it.

Maybe I have some anger issues. Maybe I'm having some sort of frustrated-writing meltdown. Maybe I'm having committment issues with my laptop.

I don't know, but it can't be any so serious that a few more hours of Halo couldn't remedy. I'm unemployed, what could it hurt to give it another aggressive twirl?

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