The Realest Reasons

Late Autumn/Early Winter is always one of my favourite times of the year.

I'll leave the confines of the office at quarter to five and begin the trek home just as the street lights begin to switch on.

I love the melancholy coziness of walking home in the dark. I love feeling the light in my front room pulling me in from the cold like some kind of vanilla lighthouse.

I love how the first cup of tea , upon getting home, seems to illuminate both the temperature of my hands and the smile on my face in equal measures.

It's just a glorious little time.

It's also a time when I seem at my most reflective for some reason. I couldn't begin to explain why. There's nothing logical about how or why my processes begin to change when the evenings draw in. I'm always looking backwards at the adventures I've been on and the things that I've seen. I don't feel it's anything negative, incidentally, I just love replaying adventures in my mind when it's dark and rainy.

10 days ago I undertook an journey that I must have done hundreds of times over the last few years but one that always seems to awaken my senses as it nears completion. I hopped on the Manchester Piccadilly train and awaited the familiar rush of adrenaline as it shuddered into life.

This time, however, everything felt different.

As I gazed out of the window of the empty carriage I became aware of just how grey everything seemed. Maybe it was just the stark contrast from the lamp on my table, which made the journey seem way more pleasant if truth be told, but there was something special about this scene. The journey went by in a flash as I was truly transfixed by my passage through the wastes of industry and the hustle of city life.

It wasn't until much later in the day that the realisation of the situation dawned fully on me. Yes, it was a Saturday. Yes, I was in a town that was not my own. Yes, I was in a hotel room on my own playing videogames, messaging my lovely girlfriend and drinking tea.

That, however, was where the similarities seemed to end. The rain ceased after a while, and I opened the curtains in my room to let some natural light in.

I could truly see for miles and, as I struggled to take it all in, my head began to pulse with ideas and notions.

What if it all ended? Everything. All of it. Not just me but you. Everything we've ever dreamed of. Stopped dead. Gone in the blink of an eye. No sense of foreboding. No fear of the unknown. Someone pulled the plug. No feedback or thanks for the memories. No goodbyes. No regrets. Nothing. Just nothing.

It was at that point that the magnitude of it all hit me. I knew why I was here. I knew why today meant so much to me and I knew exactly why it had happened this way.

I finished my cup of tea, put on some suitably motivational music and began my preparations.

It was everything I ever thought it would be but so many things I thought it would never be.
Maybe because I never thought it would get this far but then, why shouldn't it?

I don't make a point of talking about judging fights at work. I don't do it for them.

It's the kind of bullshit you'd expect from that guy in your office who gets a black eye, probably accidentally, and starts conversations about it. The kind of guy who wears a rash guard to swim in and uses hashtags like #smash, #beastmode and #foodporn.

The realest reason to do anything is because you want to.

That sounds way too simple to be constructive but it really isn't. This culture makes anything available in an instant. It's like an 80's Christmas everyday but without as much Toffifee. That's good in a lot of respects but it's bad because it's way too easy not to appreciate anything. If you don't take your time to look back, then it's impossible to see how many steps you've taken and it's way too easy to make mistakes.

"A delayed game is eventually good, a bad game is a bad game forever." - Shigeru Miyamoto

It doesn't have to be now.
It may be next week.
It may be next year.
It doesn't mean you want it any less.
It doesn't mean you're not as passionate about it as anyone else.

Believe me.

When you get what you've been dreaming about since the start; the fact that you've waited so long and worked so hard to make it happen, becomes the most important part about the whole experience.

Until next time, remember that there's no reason it can't be you.
Take Care
Speak Soon
Ben

Half a world away

There's a real order to life.

There's no escaping it but embracing it fully leaves little to the imagination. The blessing of introspective thought is one that few creatures are bestowed with but it only too often leads to our undoing. If we truly took a second to contemplate what was actually happening then how much of this would we even do?

How many meetings would we sit through? How many walks to the photocopier would we take? How many times would we tolerate dealing with people we'd much rather not deal with?

If we sat back and contemplated the sands of time and our flight through space, without both reason or direction, then would anything matter? Maybe it wouldn't, but without the experiences that make up our time on this vessel, you could make a much clearer argument for an apathetic white flag.

It's the experiences and the people we share that with, that define our path through this endless maze. It's those who we choose to spend our time with that amplify that which our hearts and heads would tell us.

The real problem lies in the daily grind and how this affects our ability to see the sparkle of diamonds through tired, weary eyes.

I've always said that these writings exist as a template for anyone who wants to achieve anything. A set of instructions to those who don't know if their hopes and dreams will ever amount to anything. So often I talk about the adventures undertaken, the voyages through the night and the constant sense of motion without mentioning the one person who I couldn't live without.

My lovely girlfriend Alison "Vanille" Leese.

I gave her the nickname after Oerba Dia Vanille from Final Fantasy XIII which I was heavily immersed in when I met her.

I met Alison in a place that isn't open anymore. The second place we met at has only just re-opened, after shutting down, and maybe that says as much about the modern economy as it does about our respective tastes in venues.

There's too many life lessons to give from that first meeting but, if I'm pressed for one, I'd go with the following.

 
"If you ever meet a girl who understands that Ravishing Rick Rude is the only way an 80's gentleman should look, it's written in the stars."


 

As this blurry train ride gets faster and faster and the lines between what matters and what doesn't become too white to make out, I'm comforted by thoughts.

The one thing that keeps me going whenever I feel like I'm not sure what to do next.

The one thing that makes me smile when I'm walking home in the rain and I've forgotten my umbrella.

The one thing that will always make me want to be the best I can be.

The one thing that makes me happy when I get lost in myself is the one thing that makes me realize that I'm the luckiest man alive. 

Every cup of tea, every slice of toast, every time you've worn my clothes, every time you've beaten me on a videogame (more than I'd like to admit) and every time you've somehow picked the winners in fights before they've even started.

Adventures are daunting but coming home makes perfect, blissful sense.

Speak soon people
Never take anything for granted
Stay happy
More words soon
Ben 

The Post Completion Malaise

It's been ages hasn't it.

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.

Besides, ceremony means nothing right?

Thanks for taking the time.
It won't be this long again.
Take care
Ben

The Weight of Expectations

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.

Thanks again for taking the time
Ben

Ninety days around the world

Click this, it'll make sense I promise

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.

Ben

Forty Seven Post-it Notes

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

The Death Schedule

Masters of Doom is one of the best things I've ever read.

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