*Cough cough*. Just a bit of randomness.

You know the feeling.

The feeling of absolute boredom that you will suddenly feel for no reason at all, mostly when you're sitting down and doing nothing.

Yeah, that's me today.

It's the feeling you get when you're browsing the web, looking at content, whether that be art/animation/games or... other stuff. Hint hint. And you're sitting there, thinking 'Huh, wish I was that talented', which over serves to bring thoughts about how untalented and unoriginal you are. Yeah, that's make you bored. You try your hand at one of these things, and what you get... you vow never to do so again. That's one possibility.

Or... you're sitting in school, listening to some teacher blab on for the umpthtime about someone not turning in their assignment, and most of the time that person is you.

Or... even better. Knowing there is an upcoming deadline for a writing contest and you're severely behind. So you sit there, try to write, only to become distracted in the most trivial things ever.

That boredom.

And the writing one especially strikes close to me, seeing as how I'm writing. I'd like to call myself a writer, but that would be too much of a compliment. I write...words... sometimes. Hell, I'm not even an author. Most of the crap I write is just out of the blue material that gets forgotten in a day or two. Almost like what I'm writing now. It's not my fault that I have barely any work ethic. It's not my fault I started late. It's not my fault I went with the first idea to pop into my head and forgo the planning process of a story. It's not my fault I'm stuck at chapter two, too lazy to write, and too stubborn to step back and analysis where the hell I plan on taking the story...

Wait... all that is my fault.

Good news, though, I have an ending that will totally make all the other crap worth it... if I can write the rest of it and get to the ending. Screw it, even if it kills me, I'll finish this story. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to pledge not to shave until I complete this project. Jesus, I'll look like Gandalf by then, and it won't even be a cool wizard beard. It'll be a weird, offsetting, 'keep away from him because he looks like he might rob you' type of look. I'll totally pull it off though, and by December, everyone'll want those beards. I'm calling it now.

Yeah, this is definitely ranting.

But what the hell, this is a blog. Most blogs are just ranting!

So... what else can I write that'll entertain whoever reads this besides me...

Eh, I'm not sure.

Wait, idea!

You know what I dislike?

Steam.

No, not the service itself, just some stupid details. Like authorization codes. What's wrong with lending games off to a friend, to let them try it. Nope, gotta deal with these one use only codes. Which is crap. How am I supposed to like a game, which would probably get me to buy a seperate copy for myself, if I can't play it myself without a copy. I'm not going to camp out at my friend's house just to play. So, yeah, screw you authorization codes.

I know pirating is bad and all, and this allows companies to make more money, but still.

Maybe this is why I enjoy console games more.

So yeah, screw you Napoleon Total War.

Back to writing, I guess. And no, whoever is interested, you're not getting my links.

The First Day.

They hung glum in their seats, worried and terrified glances passing between them as the transport bore them towards their cruel destination. The road was filthy, muddy and rough, each pothole and bump sending the vehicle several feet into the air, as well as the passengers on board. The windows were barred, impossible to open, but, even had they been, no one would have dared to. The ice cold wind outside would freeze anything to the bone with only a few seconds of exposure. To put it this way, it was hell. A cruel, inescapable hell that would claim the sanity of many in only a few short days. The engine hissed as if the vehicle itself was reluctant  to venture any further. The ear rupturing scream was disorienting and depressing. Not a single comment was passed between the passengers. All sat with a defeated look on their face, bags limply hanging from their backs, or on the seats side them. Most stared silently at their feet, eyes passing over their uniforms. Bland, dull, similar equipment that marked them as being the same. No difference between one and the other. Another crushing blow designed to kill any hopes of rebellion or personal identity. Others fiddled with their hands, severe anxiety pressing at their minds. Some even sleep, although I cannot fathom how they could at such a moment.

As for me, I...

I was unsure. I could have been angry, furious at the thought that my freedom had come to an end, pissed at that mental image that the next months would be torture so encompassing that I would lose myself to it. No more friends, no more entertainment. Just work, and more work. I sighed, silently, not wanting to attract attention from the others. My eyes quickly darted towards the other forms on the bus. Still, no one spoke, no one dared to make eye contact with another, for fear of the potential consequences. I, too, was not brave enough to try and make open conversation. This was the last time we would get good thoughts of out family, of our friends, before we lost all individuality and became one with the brainless mass.

Someone coughed, I wasn't sure who, but the noise cut through the air. The silence had been so thick, almost feasible, and this single action broke through the fog, clearing it.

Somewhere near the front of the transport, the driver shifted, having heard the cough as well. She turned to face us, an anger so great on her face that I could feel myself shrink back into my seat to try and avoid her wrath. With a hiss that resembled a reptile, she spat "SILENCE" into the air. Once again, the cloud of quietness returned, and this time, it was permanent.

There was a turn, as the vehicle deviated from the main road, and onto a branching path. Our destination was drawing close. It wouldn't be long until our lives were over, and I knew the harsh realization was known by  everyone.

I ran my hand through my recently cut hair, angry at the fact that my scalp was so bare. It was only yesterday that they had brutally shaved it from my head. Now, there was nothing but an inch or so of hair, and the stubble that sat on my jaw. My clothes itched. My body wasn't familiar with them, and responded as such. They fit, that wasn't something I could complain about, but everything else about them was wrong. I could only think of all the others that were wearing these uniforms, and the thought made my cringe. I was one among many, no different that everyone else around me. I would be regarded as such.

The tales of our destination was enough to chill anyone's hopes of optimism. The rules were strict, and anyone would strayed was subject to a harsh reminder. The rooms were reported to be bleak and colorless, same as the hallways and the ceilings. There was also a schedule we would no doubt have to follow. Work, work, and more work. No exceptions, no breaks, no hope. There was a lunch break, at least, but the food was supposedly barren and tasteless. I could hear the shrill yelling of a superior in my eardrums now.

Worse than the overseers were the other students. They would fight, and bicker with each other. Forming clans to secure safety themselves. They were known to take what you had, and lose it, no replacing. Just taunting, and pain. So much pain.

The vehicle creaked to a halt, the frame creaking and shuddering. I heard a frightened yelp from one of the passengers, it might have been me, but most noise was drowned out by the hissing noise of the opening exit. The driver turned towards us as we formed an orderly line in the alley between the seats. I could see an evil smile cover her features, "Have fun." I already disliked her. But a place so cruel was bound to affect your personality, and maybe she was just another unfortunate victim. I hoped...

Slowly we exited, the cold wind greeting us. I could feel the shivers in my spine. I was sure that my teeth were clattering.

The building was just as devoid of hope and freedom as the transport. A bland grayish, wine color, with only a few windows, and massive steel doors. Marching up the front steps, one of the employees opened the door. I also noticed a cruel grin on their face as well. And then we were inside. Sharp, rough, black carpet tore at the soles of our shoes. I could feel the fabric already hurting my feet. The tiles weren't much better, their hardness and texture only making the pain worse.

The hallways were thin and crowded, and bare. We had arrived late, as made notice by the bell that rung.

Classes had started, school was in session.