11 December 2011

Half an inch

One of the other changes that I noticed about myself apart from personality related ones of late is how the pair of jeans I bought about two years ago can now no longer be worn without a belt. Not even a tucking in can help this time - walking more than 20 metres will require me to pull it up before it starts showing my peachy bum and underwear, which is most inconvenient to say the least.

Feel free to thank me for choosing this image.

I'm not certain about how I lost that half-inch or so worth of waist fat. The most obvious reason might probably have something to do with the bout of digestion problem in the past three weeks or so. It probably reduced my appetite for food that smaller portions of food nowadays are enough to satisfy the stomach.

Some in the office suggested that my mind was distracted by either more interesting things or stressful ones (or both) that causes the same effect in what is usually called 'mind over matter'.

"Nah, I'll just nibble off this bit of cucumber".

Otherwise a change in sleeping habits might just have some minor effect on that - been sleeping a lot more this time, as in getting at least seven hours instead of the usual less than five.

Back home my parents might just ask if I'm all right in their most subtle of manners if I don't seem to be eating like I normally do when the cook is my mother. Every trip home for the holidays is a feast as they know I don't get top quality cooking like this over here in KL, so my annual visits home are one of the few times when I get to indulge.

Including copious amounts of God's gift to mankind.
 The downside of what is supposed to be a positive thing depending on the circumstances - being seriously ill is probably a lot less desirable - is that the clothing my now start to look a lot less fitting. While some of the older t-shirts are no longer wearable without further reduction to the volume of fat, some are now feeling pretty baggy. The trade off of a much healthier body size is the loss of some clothing that might no longer look good.

Still, my trip home in a little more than a month from now might just 'fix' that.

Besides, a lifetime of bamboo diet didn't help this fella with his weight.

4 December 2011

Good storytelling

Spend quite a bit of time on Skyrim the past couple of weeks, the fifth installment of the sandbox role playing game (RPG) that allows you to do whatever you want and whatever pace, usually along the lines of becoming a powerful warrior and defeating whatever comes between you and your goal.

Including freaking dragons.

I'm not going to wax lyrical about the game or describe what it's all about as it is already done to death by countless community wikis or game sites,  but instead talk about one part of the game that I find to be most unexpectedly poignant.

Throughout the many journeys all over the game map looking for a fight or things to explore (usually the former), I arrived at a small town and was appointed as the Sherlock Holmes of the game to investigate the case of foul play.

Happy little chicks playing in a box?

A mother and daughter perished in a fire in that town that had everybody talking, not of sympathy or grief but more about the scandalous nature of how the husband switched hearts within a week to another woman.

Long story short, one part of the investigation required that my character visit the burnt down house to find nothing but the apparition of the little girl named Helgi. My character agreed to play 'hide-n-seek' with the spirit of the dead girl but only after dark.

What got me were the few lines that she spoke (paraphrased as I can't remember the exact dialogue):

"It was so hot and I was so afraid. Then it was cold and I am not hurt anymore", all in the tone of innocence (or ignorance of her own state).

Little Helgi was a lot creepier than this, glowing blue et al.

At the end of the quest she then bid goodbye:

"Thank you for helping mother. I'm feeling so tired, I think I will sleep for a while...", as the option to 'talk' to her casket disappeared.

I sat there somewhat numbed, either by how expertly crafted the little bit of dialogue was or by how much I actually felt somewhat moved that her journey for the long rest has come to an end.

This, folks, is good story telling.