Born to this Life

So, where do you see yourself in 5, 10, 20 years?

It seems to be the hot question for educators and employers. Where do you see yourself? What do you want to do with your life? What are your goals?

Well, would it hurt your feelings if I said I thought it was conceited to believe I would live that long?
Living is something that's so easy to take for granted. We just assume that we'll be healthy forever, and nothing bad ever happens. I prefer not to wait until tommorrow, if you don't mind. Because there might not be a tommorrow. There might not even be a today.

I don't like sitting around anymore. I've had a lot of wasted days, where I just sit around and do nothing, trying to figure out new ways to do nothing. I still like sleeping. If I'm sleeping, I'm happy. But when I'm awake, I always feel like I should be doing something, or something should be happening as a result of my previous work. I feel like I'm riding the edge of the wave of my life, and I should try to get everything done while I still have the opportunity to do so.

I know, I should have a lot of time left. But when I think about it, there's a lot of stuff that I should have, but don't. So, I'm not taking my time for granted.

Now, I'm sure my profs would have something to tell me right now about "taking opportunities," and getting assignments done, and do a respectable degree of quality. I'm innocent I tell ya!

A Small Disclaimer

I am not responsible for your reactions to the following picture. I am an artiste. You have nothing against me.

Now, gaze, at my elite camera skills.



Edit: I think there's a certain few of you who would appreciate the results of this trite little quiz.

You Are Changing Leaves

Pretty, but soon dead.

What Part of Fall Are You?

A little note to myself

Remember self, if you go to the pop machine, and you have change but not your wallet, you aren't getting back into your room.

Embarassing. Thank god it wasn't the usual morning people I see at the front desk. That would be pretty awkward.

My internet is driving me nuts. It's like they have wireless internet out here, but it stops working, if the goddamned gerbil gets tired.

I would like to thank the Chinooks Edge school district for my dinner tonight. Thank you, you've prevented another poor student from starving this day.

Also, I would like to direct everyone with Realplayer installed on their computer, back over to Intairnet. Play the music video for Surfing on a Rocket. You won't regret it.

Also of note. When staying for prolonged periods in a hotel, bring guitar. Couples will want sex all night, and the only method of retaliation a single man has is some kind of brutal sonic assault.

A Mask

The earphones are a wall to keep you out of my head.
I can hear the music playing, even when they're not around.

These glasses are a mask to hide the evil me.
I don't want you. I want to consume you.

This hoody is armour from the outside world.
Hard words are cushioned by the black warps around me.

This ring is a collar wrapped around my neck.
I have since been parted with it. May it strangle someone deserving.

These shoes are the sound of silence on rock.
Those who fear the silence, fear me.

The pen is a weapon, meant to crush your doubt.
Ignorance and apathy are armors too thick to crack.

The erasor is a bandage, to help me forget.
I can't forget, but I can be forgotten.

These keys are doors, into the places I've went.
The darkness and light that I've seen, the hearts I've felt. The worlds I've broken.

Insomnia

I hate trying to go to bed, and finding you can't sleep. I'm so fucking tired that I've zoned out while trying to write this, but the moment my head touches a pillow, I'm awake, full burn.

I'm miserable. Not because I'm out here. I'm just miserable, can't sleep, can't feel anything. My feet have gone to sleep. A million thoughts run through my head, at a million miles an hour, about a million different things a million different ways. A veritable mess of bullshit filling the space between my ears, and it won't let me sleep until I sort through it. One bloody concept at a time.

One bloody thing at a time. One bloody step in front of the other. That's all I've got to focus on. Nothing else matters right now except moving forward.

An exercise in insanity. View yourself as your friends see you. Truly, it is maddening. For they know nothing about you, and yet profess to know you.

Madness. I'm wondering tonight if I'm hearing one voice too many in my head. A friend of mine was being hussled off to the psychologist, because she was stressed from schoolwork. Wrong action. Go see a campus councellor if the school work is getting to you. Psychologists should only be seeing psycho's like me, who seem all put together until somebody tells them something they already know, and they... how did Simon put it? Snap, LOSE IT.

Nobody says anything. I can hear noise, I can see lips moving. But none of it resolves itself into my mind as something being said. I can't hear you. I don't know what you're saying.

Everyone likes to talk about someone, it's like a circle see. They talk around this person. They talk above this person. They talk behind this person. All around and around, things are said. Many of them could be true. The important stuff is false. But the person in the middle doesn't know. They don't hear anything. All they see are grinning faces, and a little voice at the back of their mind tells them to watch out for the hyenas.

Everyone wants better for themselves, to find everything they could ever want. Nobody ever sees the cost of their actions, as long as it makes them feel good. There's been a Holocaust of conscience, and we are once again looking away as their ashes fall down on us. When are they going to come for mine?

People like to look for their better half. The dating game, I guess it's called. But people don't love people. People love themselves, and what they see of themselves in other people. People love how other people make them feel. Needed, loved, warm, sexy. Whatever. It's all illusions. People don't love people.

Aspiration was what once drove us, but it's dead. We're climbing down the ladder, not up. We're digging our grave, not our future. Money and sex. With those two things, you can wrap yourself in the warm, fuzzy blanket of apathy and sail off to the never-land between here and fuck-all.

And here, the best place to put a gun is in the ground, or on your chin. Never again do I want to see a grin and a barrel within the same three metres of each other if I can help it. The best way to kill your enemy is to let him live for about 80 or so years, and then decide if he was really worth killing.

And all around, there's an indescribable brutality that everyone feels but nobody sees. Because they won't look. It's like looking at the rabid hound. If I don't see it, maybe it won't see me, and it'll leave me alone. Or at least, I won't have to look into those ravenous eyes, or see those teeth amidst the slavering foam and lolling tongue. The bite will be quick, and the end painful, but at least I will be innocent and not see it coming.

Where am I going? Where is my map?
Where is my bed?

Sleeper

I'm so tired right now. The days are long, with the work, and although the days have gone by like blinks of an eye, sleep is over before I can even shut mine. I've caught myself many times today, nodding off. Only to snap awake, trying to tongue out the bitter metallic taste in my mouth.

At least I've been eating alright. Three or so meals a day. Beats the one or two I was getting while back in school. When I'm only aligned with one job, it's much easier to get things done. Everything follows a flow, rather than having three chicks pulling at the same worm, and all are demanding incessantly.

My mystery sickness seems to have disappated too, which is a welcome relief. I've been breathing a lot easier over the last few days. I think it was the stress that was hurting my lungs, and now I can breathe a little easier. Just one less thing to be in the way, I guess. Not that it matters, anyway. People expect the same from me whether I'm pulling the whole world or carrying the Plague of Ages. It doesn't matter.

The work needs to be done. Nobody has time to care who falls where.
We haven't ever seen the sun. We don't all die by the pair, cause I'm the only one.

Edit: Not that sleepy.

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

Damnit Steph. You've even got me doing these things now.

Outward Bound

I'm out of town now, enjoying the internet through an 11.1 mb/s connection. It's like trying to enjoy a thick milkshake with a surgical needle. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. I'm rather enjoying my own space right now, two beds to myself, and all my stuff is pretty much here as well.

I'll miss my friends from home, for the two weeks that I'm out here. But I'm sure they'll be too involved with their own weeklies to care either way. I'm sure there'll be more than a few parties when we get back.

I probably won't be attending.
I've had enough partying for now, and I've got more important things to focus on.

Aural Raid

I've finally got some sound bits recorded from my guitar today. I've encountered two major problems though. The mic I was using sucks worse than a politician in a game of truth or dare, and the software I was using to record was a "trial" version, meaning all the major features have been stripped out, and they secretly made it so that one could only record for a total of 40 seconds.

Great. 40 seconds of what, you might ask? Well, basically me warming up in the guitar. And here, I encountered a third problem. I have no place to put the music on my blog.

Oh well. I'll figure something out.

In other news, I've been introduced to the band Air, by my friend Lisa. They are an instant favorite, and if you don't like the music, you can at least play pong and make-a-song on their site.

I seriously need to find me one of those monkeys. Chicks dig that kind of stuff.

The Clock is Silent

It's waaay too early in the morning, but I haven't gotten any sleep yet. I figure that can wait a little while. About nine hours from now, the clock will strike 10 after 10, and I'll officially be a year older.

19. Now there's a meaningless age, if there ever was one. A year after turning 18, and finding out that the age of majority is nothing special. Just legal. There's going to be a lot of alchohol moving around in the next few hours. I guess its about the only happiness that can be afforded. I'm looking forward to the company of it too. It's not often that my work-mates and my friends all appear in the same location.

Or at least, I'm hoping they'll all appear at the same location. It's not too late for my nightmare to come true; for me to find myself at the campus bar at midnight - alone- speaking tongues to my only friend, a shot of gin on the table next to me.

It's... birthday... my... birthday... it's... my...

*gulp*

Whyyyyyyy Ginny? Whyyyyyyy did you have to taste so good?

In other news, Jack Thompson appears to have spun his engines to zero. Stay tuned for more info.

Even on my birthday, there's people who like to steal my thunder.

Edit: Three martinis, three shots of tequila, and a beer later, I feel like my guts have been pickled, and somebody's stuffed my head with cotton. I also have a feeling that I made a monumental fool of myself, but I also have a feeling that I wasn't the worst one there.

Hot Carrot on Carrot Action

Uh oh. I don't think the Neocons are going to forgive me for this one. The poor children, being corrupted by my perverted exertions. God forbid they should stop beating each other up and oggling older women long enough to even find this website, let alone comprehend the fact that these carrots are neither "hot," nor "active."

Not that it matters anyway. These carrots were especially tasty.
I'll let you guys sort that one out.

You try to find me too late, grabbing into the mist.
But all you find is a handwritten note in a language you can't understand and the faint smell of pancakes.
I'm so gone that even my footprints disappear in the lake.

Something A Little Darker

Halloween is in a few weeks. I won't be here for it. I won't be dressing up for it either. God forbid any children should come knocking on my door asking for candy either. Because I'll eat them alive.

Well, okay, maybe I won't. Just this once. But the little dorks better get it that a patio light turned off means there isn't any candy at this house.

I remember going out for Halloween, enjoying myself. I remember going once when I had the flu, and I passed out under a tree. Best nap I've ever had in our little suburban wilderness. I remember one year somebody giving out cans of pop. Another year, is was cans of beer. Yeah, beer. Way to go, Cletus.

Sometimes I miss being a kid. But then I wonder...

Was I ever really one?

Urban Lego

More pictures for the masses. I'm sure some of you are starting to think this is pretty boring. I mean, it's like all I can take pictures of are buildings, shrubs, guitars, and my own mug.

Oh well. I'm not planning on changing that anytime soon, so you'll all just have to bear with my buildings, my macro'd shrubs, my guitar, and... well, no. I'm pretty much done with the pictures of myself.

Need to survive until Thursday.

Do we even know her anymore?

The Clock Chimes

I tripped over my own feet today.

In other news,

Happy Birthday Apples!

Err, actually, its a bit early, but when you do actually celebrate, it'll be approximately 4 a.m. here. So enjoy; another year, another excuse to celebrate. I wish you good times, good luck, and good people.

And now, for some double whammy bad news. First, the bad. I'm going to be gone for two weeks coming up. Practicum called back, which is good news for me. I get to go get job experience, but I doubt that it will leave much room for blogging, per se. And the worse news? My laptop, my portal to the wonderful, terrible world of the internet, is ill. Internet Explorer (which I never use anyway), has died, and with it, almost all of the network tools in Windows. So I need to leave my laptop in for a week for repairs and reimaging.

On top of that, the weather's gone wierd here again.
Expect pictures shortly.

Put your head to the Dirt

Celebrity Worship. It's something we're throwing around the office today, possibly for an editorial.

I remember thinking about this when I was a young, naive little boy. Being outraged at people's shenanigans when it came to the pretty faces of hollywood and music.

I can't bring that self-rightous rage up anymore. It's barely even a spark, against this kind of jaded knowledge that I've accumulated. I'm not surprised by people anymore, probably less so every day. But I still wonder what makes a celebrity, and what makes them so worthy to be oggled over?

Meaningless thoughts, I understand, as people will always follow their percieved idols. People like to worship. It makes them feel like they're appreciating someone, and I guess there's kind of a warm feeling associated with that.

Problem is, it's like booze. It's too easy to go overboard and get drunk off the feeling that you're appreciating someone. It can get way out of control, to the point that you're actually annoying the one you idolize, or worse yet. You think that they should appreciate you back.

Crazy. People are crazy.

Something Pulled Together

Wow. When I get it, I really get it.

Am I one of those bloggers, or one of these bloggers, I wonder?
Does it even really matter?

Edit: This is the equivalent to an open thread. Feel free to leave a comment, unless its spam regarding cheap merchandise, and stuff to do with my wang. Unless it's apples wondering about names. That's okay. Otherwise, chat up. Anything and everything goes.

Further Edit: Stop staring at the picture, tool, and say something.

Even Further Edit: I wonder if she's reading this thing?

Let me show you Terror

I watched The Amityville Horror this weekend. The new one, not the 1979 one. It was pretty disturbing, but I wouldn't exactly call it scary. A friend of mine, typical of most horror-movie buffs, posed the question of what would any of us do, if we were put in the position of the actors in the film (and it became a thing of real life). I'm still kind of sitting on the fence regarding the supernatural, but if I had to go face to face with a malevolent spirit, I'd show him a thing or two about terror.

The mist, blood, and deep voices of the damned spirits are but a hollow comparison to what us, the living terrors of this world have accomplished. Come, let me show you the terror that we have wrought.

When all hope is lost in the face of terror, only bravery, and perhaps a greater terror can hope to prevail.

I guess this is why I'm not afraid of horror movies. Sure, there's blood and gore, and brutal death, and the decay of the human spirit... but really, it's almost insignificant compared to the atrocities of war. And the sad thing is, the atrocities aren't a movie.

Within

Crisis averted... I guess.

I've been sitting here thinking, for quite a while actually. Normally, I'd be glad to share what I think about, but I've learned a few lessons over the last few months, many of them the crushing lessons you can only expect to learn when you reach adulthood. I've learned that what goes on in my mind is, more often than not, best left to die. That isn't a cynical comment. That is the common opinion I get.

In truth, I've been wrestling with myself, the desire to just hate everything for what it is, and the aspirations to beat that desire and see something beyond the gloom and doom. Maybe make a place for myself, and make something of a future. I've also been trying to please everyone, which I already know is a lost cause. The expectations are too damn high, and my abilities can only go so far.

On top of that, I'm trying to discover who it is that I really am, and what it is that I'm trying to accomplish. I might be a news editor now, but I can already tell that this isn't what I want to do for the rest of my life. I've been called a geek, but I can't remember the last time I spent more than an hour playing a video-game. I'm a thing of change, I think.

My plans for travelling this summer are still there... and are perhaps the only objective I have set and am adamantly adhering to right now. I'm just afraid that the places I want to go won't be what I think they will be, and the people I want to meet... well, you get the idea. The only thing worse than hate is forgetting. Unless you do both.

So, even after this post, I don't remember what it was that I was trying to say. Everything's just a fog. I know there's so much more that I want to say, but I'm not in the business of providing ammunition to those who want to hurt me.

In any event, I'm going back to work. Another constant. I just want to sleep, to relax, to feel something besides fatigue, anxiety, and resentment.
Back to work. That's where I go.

My Sincerest Apologies

I can't talk now.

I'm seconds away from losing it entirely, and I don't want to talk about it.

I won't be talking to anyone for a couple of days. I need some time to get my head back on straight, to know that I'm going to be okay.

I'm still sick.
I'm still behind on my assignments.
I'm still wasting time.

That's all you need to know right now.

That, and I'm pissed off. The leaves fell off the trees before I could take a picture of fall. Shortest fucking autumn on record. Less than 24 hours.

Edit: Now I'm pissed. Somebody's eaten almost all of my remaining strawberry marshmellows. What do I have to do to keep people's hands out of my shit when I'm not around? Bear traps? Autoguns? Jesus Christ, I'm living with kleptocrats.

To the Wits End, and Back Again

The true colours of your blue skies are the black of night, and the endless stars.

Expect no love from this uncaring planet, but give love rather, as a gift unwanted.

Time itself is a slayer and a maker, the ender and the bender and the breaker.

Change is a constant, in four seasons of change, itself never the same.

One is strong, but weak to the many, which are weak to the one and strong in the many.

The tree is ageless within your mind, for it bore no fruit until you lay under its boughs.

I am to you as the wind to a mountain. There, but not felt, nor seen, nor heard.

The depths of the ocean covet the heights of the sky.

The end is but a trite beginning among beginnings and ends of beginnings.

Fear nothing, for you are something to be feared.

One of those Days

Have you ever had a day where you just wanted to do this?

I kinda feel like doing that today.

Setting everything on fire, and posing like an idiot, because this world is MINE.

Well, actually, it's not. But it never hurt anyone to imagine it, did it?

Sucrose Dreams

I'm a diabetic's nightmare, and Wonka's dream come true.

I eat insane amounts of candy, sweets, pop, and other sugary goods. It's not healthy, it's rotting my teeth... yea, I can hear the goddamned plaque multiplying. But I love it so. Why, you might ask? Because I have some kind of crazy addiction to sugar. Like a mountain goat seeking salt, I'm drawn to candy, and now that I have my own money, I show little to no inhibitions about eating shitloads of it.

The only thing that comes even close to this little addiction I have, is my little addiciton to alcohol.

Rough.

At least I don't drink caffeine. I'm working at toning down the booze, and for the most part, I'm succeeding, but don't even think about touching my candy.

I'm what kept Willy Wonka Inc. in business after all those child molestation suits. Nerds, Runts, fuck yeah. I'll eat 'em all.

And I just found these little strawberry flavoured marshmallows.
I'd hate to be the doctor that does the stomach pump after this.

Nurse... what is this thing?

I'll be in my Room

Fall is here. The leaves have started changing, and it's looking pretty good outside.

I haven't really had time to notice until now, but I guess it was good timing on my part. I finally have some free time, and I wanted to spend it with my friends here in town.

No dice. The inconvenience of coming to my house for free pool, unlimited booze, and a bed to sleep in was just too great.

On top of that, the rhetoric continue to pile up from some of my select friends about making time, a phrase, which as of now, is officially a pet peeve of mine. Because anyone who says it, will likely follow the phrase by some asinine bitching about how busy they are.

I'd rant about the hypocracy, the double-talking, and the empty promises, but it's all old news at this point.

I'll be in my room, if anybody's looking for me.
Remember to bundle up too, guys. It's looking like there's a chance for bullshit today, with scattered fragments of faith and imagination.