It's not to say that I've had no ideas or inspiration, but the last few months really have been a haze of so many different things.
I've been on at least 6 picnics I think, there's nothing quite so blissful. Finishing work and strolling home under the summer sunshine before grabbing the car and heading out to the hills.
It's the little things sometimes, like stacking a sandwich gazing up at the clouds that make me appreciate everything.
Our schedule is ours.
We choose the paths we want to take.
Time is our only dictator.
We have time to waste, but it's never a waste when your decisions turn the hands.
I've also been fortunate enough to get myself to a lot of shows in the past few months which is always a joy.
This year I've worked 14 events, thanks as always to everyone involved for the opportunities, and I've judged 162 fights, only 8 behind my total for the entire of 2012.
Are there still goals with judging? Always or I wouldn't continue to do it. That's the genius of gaming in some respects; most of the time you're only limited by the boundaries you set yourself.
I once beat Ghosts and Goblins on one credit but didn't do the repeat run on the same credit. It legitimately took me weeks to get my technique down, and even though I felt like the king of the world for a time, I still could have taken it further.
Judging is exactly like that for me. It's a science. It's not based on any kind of organic feeling or emotional connection, it's solely based on a process. A process that I love because it lets me separate myself from everything and see only what's happening in front of me. It's strange to think that the mind even has that ability. The power to fine-tune every sense available to a single point. There's nothing else. Not you. Not me. Not anything.
The focus only shifts as colours clash and fade and kinetic energy is duly rewarded; changing from one form to another but never stopping to look back at how it arrived at points. Only when it's over do I truly get a sense of completion. My eyes scan the documentation, my brain calculates the numbers and my pen transcribes the results.
What then? Is that the end? It's only the end if you want it to be the end.
Is there one way to tell someone you love them? One way to walk to work? One way to help somebody you care about? Of course not. There's always improvements and finding ways to make myself better at this whole process is what motivates me to never stop learning.
Just because the game finished doesn't mean you have to stop.
It's only the end if you don't want to do it again.
The post credit malaise only serves to make me think how I could have done things better.
There's no such thing as the perfect game, despite what Billy Mitchell may say.
I take a deep breath, the lights fall low, the music starts again and it begins.
I'll never stop doing this.
As long as I have breath in my body I'll want to do this.
I'll want to settle scores, to interpret chaos, to stand up and offer a concrete conclusion.
I'm not usually one for writing about food that isn't Toblerone so a few disclaimers before I start.
1) This piece will not contain any Instagram style pictures of food. That's so fucking obvious.
2) This piece will not contain the hashtag - Foodporn. That's really false advertising.
3) This hasn't been written to tell you to do anything.
That done I'll explain how this merry little escapade started.
One of the best things about my girlfriend, that I can share on here anyhow, is that she loves pro wrestling like I do. That's what bought us together in the first place as it happens. One weekend last year when I was away working for Cage Warriors, she hooked up Netflix through my PS3. Not just any Netflix you understand, the American one.
We spent the next month watching nothing but pro wrestling documentaries, which was pretty amazing truth be told, but longer term the service is something that I've really grown to appreciate. The categories might be niche sometimes but there's so much quality viewing on there that it really does pay for itself.
Anyhow, how does this relate to this story? Quite simply with this.
We watched this documentary a few weeks back and, although it's a bit preachy in places, I was really fascinated by the principle of it.
It's basically about an Australian gentleman called Joe Cross who loses 82lbs in 60 days on a Juice Fast. He drinks nothing but fruit and vegetable juices for 60 days and he meets some people along the way who he encourages to do the same.
Now when I watched this I wasn't overweight. I hadn't been technically over a healthy BMI since about 2001 when I got my first desk job but I was aware that I wasn't eating enough fruit and vegetables. I walk about 4 miles a day, I'm 6 foot 3, have never smoked and haven't drank for about 3 years just for details.
The whole idea of it all interested me so much, especially when he talked about reprogramming your taste buds to like more green foods. Alison was also interested in trying this concept out luckily so we bought a juicer, a load of fruit and veg and embarked on our own 5 day adventure.
As I sit here on Saturday I can honestly say I do feel very different. Rather than rambling on for ages about specifics and anecdotes however, here's what happened in an easily digestible form, if you see what I did there.
Findings
I started at 183lbs on Sunday night and when I weighed myself on Friday morning I was 172lbs.
I walked 2 miles to work and 2 miles home every night apart from Friday night
I drank 2 vegetable juices a day (300ml) (7am and 5pm) and 2 fruit juices a day (300ml) (12pm and 8pm)
I drank 4 litres of water a day including a 200ml of warm water to start the day
Fruits were Apples, Oranges, Pineapples, Lemons and Bananas
Vegetables were Courgettes, Carrots, Spinach, Celery, Beetroot and Mixed Greens.
Monday was brutal. I had a searing headache from not drinking tea and was hungry nearly all day
Tuesday night I went to bed at 8:30pm and slept for 10.5 hours
By Wednesday I was fine. My body was used to it. Not to say I wasn't hungry a bit but it was manageable
My sense of taste has definitely changed in the short term. I've clearly become used to the new flavours
My skin, hair, eyes and teeth all feel better
Alison's lost 7lbs and is repeating the original 5 day plan for which I'm really proud of her
Any society is only three square meals away from revolution - Leon Trotsky
There's one other thing.
I knew early doors I didn't want to fight when I started training.
It never appealed to me and I was happy with that. It didn't stop me wanting to train though which was good because my love for the sport of mma was enriched by this new practical knowledge. I see so many fighters at different shows now I seldom think about the massive amounts preparation that goes into each fight. I'm not comparing what I did to a weight cut because it wasn't. Primarily because I wasn't getting beaten up savagely twice a day as well as working a day job.
It's not my intention to draw those comparisons, but for the first two days of this process I've never been so consistently hungry in my entire life. I couldn't focus on anything but wanting to eat and found myself tired, lethargic and generally feeling like garbage.
Fighters always get my respect because I realise that they possess something that most don't. It's not only the ability to put yourself in clear and present danger, it's everything that goes along with it. It's the myriad of training requirements, the day to day grind magnified massively, the sacrifices but more than this it's doing this when your body is crying out for sustenance.
Every time a fighter steps on the scales and hits a weight they don't walk around at they got my respect, but now it's way more respect than ever before.
If you are interested in anything to do with Juice fasting then go here incidentally but if you're not then don't worry, I'll be talking about Shining Force, Knightmare or some crazy mma adventure again before too long.
When you get off a train that you've been on for a long time, you nearly always take a few quick steps. That's not the tough bit though, not the tough bit at all.
The tough bit is adjusting to the fact that you're no longer traveling at speed. You stumble as your head struggles to fathom why the trees are no longer just a blur of emerald and why there's no constant rush of noise.
A simple realization hit me on Sunday as I sat on the train holding my Megadrive bag filled with clothes, presents and a Toblerone.
This is really happening isn't it.
This is a thing.
A while ago myself and Dave Lethaby interviewed Jeremy Horn, back when we were part of the mma media fraternity, for Yourmma Radio.
It was fascinating to hear about the stories from the NHB days; how he'd turn up with no idea about who he was fighting, and end up winning by sub inevitably.
My favourite part though was when Horn was shortlisted for fighter of the year and he was puzzled by this. By his own admission he was a guy "fighting in tents and hockey arenas in the cornfields", not looking for mass approval or recognition.
His manager asked him how many fights he'd had that year and the total, certainly by today's standards, was incredibly in the region of thirty. His manager then asked how many that he had lost to which Horn simply replied, "None of them."
Sometimes it really does take a reminder from an outside party or a set of specific circumstances to be the catalyst for an unbelievable moment of clarity.
If life was obvious then the shooting star moment would have been as the bus pulled out of the Saitama Super Arena or as the frantic Brazilian crowd at Arena Jaragua exploded but it wasn't.
It was sitting alone on the Sunday train from Manchester Picadilly stopping at Stockport, Stoke-on-Trent, Milton Keynes Central and London Euston as I listened this song.
It hit me all at once. I got chills and all the hairs stood up on my arms and the back of my neck. It wasn't just the song. It was everything. This is everything. It found me.
94 fights in 90 days?
It doesn't seem real does it.
It was though.
It was more real than a million words on this page could tell you.
I've got a bit of a break for the next few weeks before this all begins again so, until the next time we speak, take care of yourselves and remember to be nice to the ones you love. Simple I know, but too easy to forget sometimes.
Train rides
Goodbyes
Rain clouds
Desert heat
Familiar faces
Burned out places
Check in Check out
Sunglasses
Suitcases
Notepad
Always notepad
E-mails
Don't forget
Can't be late
Films I've seen Times between
House lights down
Faces fading
Noise subsiding
Focus absolute
Kinetic barrage
Shorthand
Shorthand Shorthand
Victory
Every single one of you make all of this possible.
You shouldn't overlook it.
You shouldn't ever forget it.
Jesus it's been a hectic few weeks.
Come say hello and make small talk about Super Nintendo games and give me advice about which area in your locale sells the best tea.
I'm used to being sleepy but never grow tired of being tired.
Every day this happens is another day I'll always look back on with a warm heart and a head full of memories.
There doesn't have to be a message in any of this other than make calenders but don't wish the days full of nothing.
Take good care of yourself.
Speak soon
Real soon
Never soon enough
Ben
I can't remember how I originally got my copy, I think someone must have bought it for me as some kind of gift.
They could never have realized that, all these years later, it would still be the compass that guides me through so much uncertainty. It's the book that coined the phrase, The Death Schedule.
Carmack and Romero both use it at different points in their careers to describe frantic all night sessions of work to finish a huge sprawling task. Every description of one of these marathons is charged by the notion that striving to achieve is so colossal, that a lack of sleep/food/light are mere distractions.
I like to think of times where I've slogged on for hours to complete something I've been massively motivated and excited to finish such as a piece of writing, the Mag'har grind or Ghosts n Goblins. There's always a sense of bleary eyed adrenaline as you push harder towards the finish line because every single motion you take, brings something intangible closer. Afterwards, usually after a day of catching up on sleep, the magnitude of achievement really sets in.
The next six weeks will see me work five mma shows in a variety of different countries and it's already all I can think about.
That's the key. You put yourself through such a torturous physical schedule because you love what you do. That's why it's not like any other deadline that you get at work; ticking boxes for the comfortably middle class. Whatever you do is driven by the fact that you want to be the best at it. Why not you? Why not me? Why can't we find something that we're the best at? It's not even for the sense of self gratification or bragging rights. It's so, if only for a moment, the face we see staring back has no questions; no what ifs or if onlys.
If you don't love what you do then keeping to a horrific schedule will break you eventually. It's human nature. If what you wreck yourself for is a passion then your body and mind will find ways to cope. You'll walk in to work and listlessly gaze at walls while being addressed, grab lifts home and fall asleep in traffic and often lose yourself completely mid sentence.
These are the after effects of any schedule but the difference between passion and necessity is scars become badges. We proudly display the effects of sleep deprivation, crippling jet lag, time away from loved ones and what seems like a life time of traveling for all to see. This is who we are. We do what we have to do to allows us the things that really make us happy.
I'll speak to you good people soon I hope
Take care
Ben
Jet lag finally left me at the start of this week. In a funny kind of way I was sad to see it go.
It was to say the least an inconvenience. I frequently felt like I was still walking when I'd just stopped, but there was more to it than that.
I'd not get dizzy for a while and quickly assume that was it, only to be hit once again with that strange feeling of motion without motion.
It all reminded me of the sense of the incredible that I'd experienced.
Walking alone down the streets in Japan at night was one of the most serene experiences of my adult life.
My Ipod, as it does, seemed to fire a line of perfection straight to my brain and only chose songs that were either beautiful, sad or both.
It wasn't until it picked me a song from one of my favourite videogames of all time that I really got a sense of something so special it pretty much pinned me to the spot.
If you read this very often you'll get why I play old videogames so much. There's no purer test. Modern games simply can't compare in so many different ways. The internet was simultaneously the best and worst thing ever happen to videogaming. It opened up the world but it killed our imagination.
Secret of Mana is still a game I refuse to consult the internet for because I've played it that many times I don't really need to but more to the point I don't want to. I turn off my laptop and play it on a day when I've got time to myself and that's all I have to think about.
The particular piece of music above comes at a real turning point in the story where the party have to negotiate an icy forest in order to progress. It's the first time in many ways that you get a real sense of group harmony. The lady, I always called her Mina for some reason, is still looking for Dyluck. The sprite is still angry at everyone and leaning new spells and our intrepid hero has no idea why fate has chosen him to save the world.
The Crystal Forest is truly one of the most magical points of the entire story. The party throw themselves into the task with a remarkable zeal and true serenity of the accompanying score acts a perfect counterbalance to this new found determination. It sings a perfect 16 bit lullaby, reminding us that however focused or driven we may be, the realisation of true beauty is always empowering.
I played this game first when I was around 15 and I'd borrowed it from a friend at school. These agreements always came with a set of terms and the primary was simply that I'd only got a week before my friend wanted the game back. My studies, as they did frequently back then, took a back seat to this all encompassing world as I vanquished a never ending army of monsters every evening that week in February.
My progress was good but simply not good enough, however, and I found myself stuck fast on the last dungeon in the game on Thursday evening with my return date set at the following morning. I waited until my parents had gone to sleep and silently powered up my trusty Super Nintendo. Sitting steadfast in my chair, I was determined to give it one last effort.
This was easily looking like my finest attempt but it seemingly wasn't to be and the final boss crushed both my party and my dreams in one fell swoop. I retreated to bed with my head still full of questions regarding just what could have happened if I'd have saved the world.
For some reason the next morning I woke up super early and realised I had time for one last effort but I'd not saved my game from last night and had to begin in the Crystal Forest. I turned the sound on low and immediately was enthralled by the haunting melodies that I'd somehow heard but never listened to.
I sat and imagined other worlds and places and wondered how real any of them were? I thought about destinations all over this planet and others and thought of people just like me looking up at the same sky but seeing stars. I lost track of how long this lasted but it clearly lasted long enough to thwart my chances of a resolution.
As I resigned myself to another day of school and sadly the thought of returning the game, I drew open the curtains and the results left me almost without breath. There had been a severe snowfall over night and the main road I could just make out from the distance was white as a sheet and jam packed with non moving cars.
This couldn't happen today could it?
I sprinted downstairs and powered up the nearest radio to listen intently to the school closures with the vain hope of hearing mine there but, alas, as the gleeful presenter reached the end of his list it was nowhere to be heard.
I was broken. This was crueler than anything I had words for. I drank my tea and began my cereal before a noise from the kitchen once again caught my attention. The presenter was reading a list of further cancellations and as I walked in I heard him utter the words, "St Thomas More RC High School is closed for the day due to the snow to both pupils and staff."
I couldn't believe it. I looked at my mum who instantly reboiled the kettle, it was obvious what I was going to ask I like to think, and I quickly began changing into casual clothes for the day's inevitable gaming marathon. Mother Nature had come to my rescue and, although not a great believer in fate, I felt that this was the universe reaching out and sending me a message.
I beat the game later in the day, she did find Dyluck eventually but it's a complicated story, however more than the snowy paradise of a lost Friday , I always seem to cling on to the daydream I had. Every single time I hear that music I'm transported back to that day when I tried to comprehend the scope of something so vast that it's impossible to even begin.
Walking through down the streets of Japan that night I clutched my recently purchased tea bags and milk to my side as I made my way back to the hotel. I was exhausted but as the familiar tones of the Crystal Forest began echoing through my head I felt compelled to stare upwards for what seemed like a lifetime.
Those same stars I'd wondered about seemed closer than ever.
The mystical lands lay beneath my feet and any dream suddenly felt possible.
There's no way we'll ever know everything; it's foolish to approach this logically. It's never wrong to dream about such complexities however, to swim in vast oceans of the unfathomable or to picture somewhere that seems a million miles away.
That moment was my wish and for those few minutes of Crystal clarity, nothing else even registered.
It's a hard thing to leave any deeply routine life, even if you hate it - John Steinbeck
There's a few reasons why I wanted to write this today. I've had a big rush of things to say and, spurred on by watching videos of people making videos for the sake of making videos, I'm aware of the importance of self reflection.
I've had a lot of time to think over the past few days, what with travelling quite a lot, and I've reached a few important conclusions.
I'm officially retiring from the world of MMA Journalism.
In all honesty this isn't that big an announcement as it seems because I've not been writing online much since last July but I've been continuing my endeavors in print with Fighters Only. I've had some truly amazing experiences and would like to thank everyone for their support. It's been nothing short of incredible but the time has come to put it behind me and move forward. No more Ben "The Pen", to be fair I was getting sick of that anyway!
Secondly, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who helped me out, not only while I was away, but at any point on this crazy journey. There's way too many of you to mention but you know who you are, all of you.
Everyone who helped me out in any way this past weekend, however, I'm eternally in your debt. You all made what was a fairly insane experience, perfect. I couldn't have asked for a better time and the serenity I felt eating a shrimp burger and chatting with some really cool people made everything slow down a little bit which was perfect.
Rather than write a huge meandering blog about my travels this time, however, I thought I'd pin up a series of videos and images that sum up exactly my experiences.
