Work ethic I have none: Part II - Second Year edition.

This blog update is a bit of a cop-out, given that I'm more or less continuing from a previous post from May, entitled: "Work ethic. I have none." However, it seems relevant to me, given that today I have been on a somewhat lacklustre "job hunt," (the quotation marks are completely necessary).

As previously mentioned, my attitude to work is a rather... lazy one (which goes to show how lazy I was just then, for I would've preferred to find a better synonym for "lazy..."). 

However, I've realised one thing over the course of my employment history - I actually don't mind paid work. 

I realise that seems a fairly broad and, to be frank, non-conclusive statement (what kind of person doesn't mind paid work...?!) but hear me out. I could quite happily spend several hours at a time in an undisclosed supermarket chain, doing the ultimately mundane job of... 
SHELF STACKING :O, regardless of the social stigma that seems wrongly attached to peskily cheery customer service assistants... and indeed, the customers who shop there (mental retardation being the numero uno). However, when it comes to certain "work" of the uni variety, I find myself looking for practically ANY excuse to get out of it. "Killing bad gaiz on COD" has worked wonders thus far...

Curse you scart adaptor hell... 

What is my point exactly? Why can I find myself happily trundling into that aforementioned undisclosed nondescript soul-sucking supermarket chain... yet working towards a degree I'm supposed to have a (here come the quotation marks again...) "passion" for is comparable to spending an eternity in hell with a TV, Xbox, an unlimited number of Xbox games...

 and NO scart adaptor... :|

(OK, well I guess it wouldn't be quite so bad... I'm just a sucker for hyperbole.)

The answer, is quite simply: money. The root of all evil, and apparently can't buy you happiness. Yet I seem to prefer earning a regular wage than being the stereotypically poor student bum. However, my inferior powers of foresight mean I can't see the most obvious solution, which I have summed up in a rather wordy equation:
Working hard at uni = better job prospects = more money in the long run. 

A picture that actually combines and demonstrates both my points... however, it is 
copyrighted,  so I'll expect to hear from The Sun's lawyers soon enough... 
(This isn't actually me in the picture this time ... though he does seem mysteriously happy) 

I'll be more inclined to make this a reality, having written it down, but I digress... I - and I'm sure many students have repeated the following immortal words - have said many a time that I would "work harder this year," or "not leave things to the last minute..." But it means nothing unless it's put into practice. To be honest, I've never revised for an exam, and seem to get by on the absolute bare minimum or effort... How I ever got into uni I'll never know. But, things need to change... It's getting silly now... :')

So... here's to my coming year two at uni... my new (academic) years resolution: quite simply to actually be a 

student this time... 

Just... no one buy me Modern Warfare 3... D: 

This is how I envisage I'll be spending my THIRD year at uni...
If all goes to plan... :| 

The COD effect. I hate it.

Sadly, this is NOT the type of camping I'm talking about... 

Preach. 

This blog update features a very specific topic in mind. Whilst I have previously mentioned my adoration (bordering "obsession" some would say...) for video game, I must reference my fondness for one such particular brand of game:

CoD... *dun dun dun* o.O

It's prevalence amongst gamers today is second-to-none. Mentioning "CoD" to most people over the age of say... 30,  they would probably expect you to be talking about a species of fish. However, to many people under 30 (if we're talking about the key demographic of 18-30 year-old males), their reaction may vary from: mouth-frothing, increased heart-rate, profuse sweating and indeed... an urge to "eliminate the opposition." 


In fact, as previously mentioned in my "Summer - not all sugar and rainbows..." blog, I myself am a CoD fan. Black Ops was the game in question that I looked forward to as being an unashamedly enormous time-sink for my Summer holidays. However, the excitement soon wore off. The thrill of killing anonymous online Xbox Live users was short-lived. I realised that COD, as a franchise, manages to both encapsulate and frustrate it's audience - including myself - in equal measures.

I'm not an angry person, by nature... Playing CoD has given me a chance at self-reflection. I'm a much more terrible person than I thought... D: 

This is me in Hulk-Cat Hybrid form. 

I find myself having to take breaks from CoD (or rather... play it in intermittent bursts... the first one made it seem like my entire summer was devoted to CoD - which would only be half right...), for fear of developing some adverse side-effects - like turning green and feeling unexplained urges to "smash." (for the astute comic book fans, I was likening myself to the Hulk... :| but... whatever...) 


A "game" should be fun... it shouldn't have the ability to elicit any negativity. But maybe that's what make me more... bloodthirsty?! 

This makes me sick... It requires no skill...! D:

... bastard. 

When a game harbours elements that frustrate me, such as so-called "camping", (whereby a player sits in a corner of a room, using equipment such as a motion sensor, or claymore to defend themselves...), I feel like it's such an injustice. Like the whole ethos of CoD multiplayer has been made of mockery of.  Is there any justice in "camping?" (I talk about "justice" as if there's a higher power of CoD police who could deal with such players... sadly - there is not). 


I then realise something else... these campers don't care how annoyed I get. And indeed, if we were in real modern warfare, you would use whatever so-called "dirty" tactics you could to survive... 


Still... It doesn't annoy me any less.