As if we were Alive

It's just after 1 a.m., and the wind has started howling outside. I'm sitting maybe four feet away from our disused fireplace, and the flue is shaking, howling, and moaning like a creature unleashed. I've been trying to clear my head for the last 10 hours or so. Nagging doubts and worries have been hounding me. I've picked up too much work again, and what's worse is this time, I won't really care if none of it gets done.

At this point, I don't really care who gets screwed, because I think I've been screwed long enough. And yet, I'm still sitting here. Practicum is coming up, I'm a phonecall away from confirmation or damnation, and I'm tempted to hang upside down from a rapidly rotating ceiling fan. The room's already spinning, I don't see how it could possibly get much worse.

On top of that, there's some four school assignments due this week. The effort and time we put into these assignments makes me agog to the fact that my peers and I have paid in excess of $2,500 for this education, when in reality, we should be getting paid that much for the stuff we produce.

Previous, real work experience doesn't count. Everything has to be new and original. Fuck me if it's going to be any better than if I had written something two months ago for Bump-on-a-Log weekly, this shit passed rediculum three months ago, and now they're descending into madness.

Or maybe I am. I've been made cynical by this rift between what my experience has taught me, and what they are pushing on me in class. The fact that I can be failed, for failing to produce what many would consider a failure in journalism, only makes me further lose my grip on why I'm even bothering to get up and attend class anymore.

Maybe I'll get lucky, and my practicum placement will become a full time job. I'd enjoy that.
Now, I just need that bloody phonecall.

Here it comes...

I haven't said much this week. It seems, every time I settle in to do something, I get pulled off to do something. To those of you on MSN, it seems like I am always leaving to go somewhere, do something, or talk to someone. I apologize. I would really like to just sit down and talk for a time, but it seems that life has found a delightful torture for me in having a million things demanding my attention, and my time being forcefully divided between all of them. Naturally, that leaves them all with about a half-hour each, which is not enough time to accomplish anything.

I've become addicted to music, typical during times of stress. I just slap the headphones on and just give the world the big Fuck Off. It only works for some time, before somebody yanks the headphones off and starts yelling at me.

I would just like to get this out. If I see you, and I don't take my headphones off, I don't want to hear you. You don't exist in my sphere, and therefore, you don't exist at all.

Nothing personal.

Saturn Speaks

And it's voice terrifies us.

Guys, we are so incorporating this into a track.

Toejam

Did I mention we played our instruments of choice while we were at the cabin?



I got the power stance and everything. Well, not quite. It was quite a gentle tune that I was playing.

Thanks to Karen for taking these pictures and then passing them along. Otherwise, nobody would ever believe that my beloved six-string ever leaves its nest and cradle.

Tagged Redux

Passing this along from apples. I guess it's something for you all to read.

Four Jobs I have had
Refilling printer cartridges at a two-bit kiosk in a mall.
Working a warehouse.
Being a reporter/editor at a local newspaper.
--

Four Movies I can watch over and over again
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Lord of the Rings
Batman Begins

Four places I have lived
Calgary (Canada)
Pacific Grace (Tallship, west coast)
Olds (Canada) (for a short duration)
--

Four TV shows I love
Kingdom Hospital
Firefly (before they cancelled it)
CSI
--

Four places I’ve vacationed
Mt. St. Helens (U.S.)
Waterton National Peace Park (Canada)
Kelowna (Canada)
Somewhere (South Dakota, U.S.)

Four of my favorite dishes
Lamb tortellini with alfredo, parmesan, and cracked black peppercorns
Perogy Pizza
A hefty bratwurst with perogies, and a side of my grandma's kraut-rice rolls.
Homemade waffles with maple syrup, real butter, and a glass of ice cold milk.

Four sites I visit daily
applestories
The Guardian
Penny Arcade
google.ca News

Four places I would rather be right now
Somewhere else
Victoria
Norway
Cook Islands

Four things I do with my fingers*
Play guitar
Play piano
Write things
Push buttons

Four embarrassing things I've done*
Drank a whole bottle of wine, pulled up a pillow, and fell asleep on a stranger's carpet.
Macked on Jen while drunk, for my birthday. (Sorry Jen)
Posted pictures of my hairy torso for all to see. (you can probably still find them somewhere)
Attempted to snowboard.

My four quotes*
When the plane is crashing, it is not practical to wish it back to flight. Simply deploy parachutes, and try again another day.

If there is a God, he'd understand.

Human lives tread the fine line between being priceless and worthless.

I would rather move mountains with razor blades, then try to contend with one who's mind is concluded.

*My additions
Four bloggers I’m tagging
Stephanie
D.
Trevor
Ryan

Because quizzes are fucking fun. Right guys?

Nevermind

First off, sunlight makes sunburns.

Second off, you can't have any silver linings without an abundance of clouds.

Third off, dislike is unlike love in that it doesn't require any prelude or previous knowledge to affect.

Nothing Should Rely on a Weekday

I'm tired. I didn't sleep well last night. Upon hearing what's happening to D, I really don't have room to complain, but fatigue is a slow death unto itself. Trying to fight a throat infection, and then having to deal with college politics is not my idea of fun. I'd rather stick my face in a blender and walk around doing the Hitler march instead of dealing with the merry-go-round of perpetual bullshit that seems to be the norm for post-secondary here.

On the upbeat, Thursday might bring a little ray of sunshine into the maelstrom of mundane living. I knew I wouldn't regret hanging around with my buddy from High School, and, for a change... something good might come into my sphere, rather than leave it.

It's a... shocking feeling, to be sure. I'm not used to people actually giving anything back. Well, something other than empty promises. It's also strange to hear somebody actually saying something nice about me when I'm not around. I'm not the butt end of some machismo's jokes for a change.

Are thing's looking up?

What's up?

A Plethora of Punches to the Solar Plexus

The broken record repeats again.

I'm sick, again. Same deal as last time. Some kind of stubborn throat infection. For somebody who's never smoked, I sure seem prone to respitory illnesses.

I've gotten kind of sick of the way people have been treating me lately. It makes me sick in the head, knowing that in this enlightened world of ours, I can still be thought of as a lesser person because I'm not "playing the field," and "sleeping around." I'm wondering when we copped out and sold our dignity for cheap sex and twelve packs of beer.

Maybe it's just the company that's been hanging off me. I'm a little sick of picking off the lampreys, and having them complain to me about their petty issues, when they've got everything they could ever want lined up on the toilet seat.

Where's the damn mute button.
I'm going to jam my finger in it until it breaks.

And when that's done, I'm going to sleep until I'm not tired anymore, and then I'm actually going to get some work done. Classes be damned, I'm going to change the system.

Rogue Leader

Beginning to see a pattern in the call signs?

So anyway, on our first full day of hitting the hill, one of the guys decided he would fix us up a proper breakfast before we headed out. A hearty breakfast always helps before subjecting the body to stresses unknown to normal men and women.



Ahh... pancakes and a Sleeman.

So, before heading to the hill, I decided it would probably be a good idea to show you what the exterior of the cabin looks like. Not that any of us were ever outside for more than a soak in the jacuzzi.



How can you tell that it's Canadian?

The hill at Fernie is awesome. There's lots of runs to choose from, and there was actually snow on the hill, rather than just ground up ice. Well, I thought it would be awesome anyway. When we actually started walking toward it, I felt my enthusiasm - and my stomach - drop to around my ankles.



That big white heap in the background is the top of ski mountain. I never went up more than a third of the way, because I'm afraid of heights. It was still a good500 m descent from the green hill... so I think I did alright.

On the way home... well, several things happened. We stopped for a small bite in Longview, home of the best beef jerky in Canada. While there, I took a look back the way we had come, and saw something along the lines of this:



The rest of the trip went rather well. Up until we hit Calgary. I was conned into driving a friend up to North Calgary, and whilst accelerating from a set of lights, my car suddenly decided that it would only have first gear.

Fun and games resulted. Actually, no, not quite. My other friends looped back around, picked up their cohort and his gear, and left me stranded in a 7-11 parking lot for an hour before my dad showed up to help me determine the ills of my vehicle.

In the end, I ended up driving across the city in a car with only two gears. First gear, and second gear over-ride, which meant my top speed was about 60 kph. Scary stuff.

But I'm home now. Safe, and for the most part, sound.

I swear though. Next time I go... I'm either getting my own floor in the cabin, or I'm not going single.

We'll see.

Echo Base

Saved from the clutches of disaster, our trip was saved, somewhat in part to my abilities as a pack animal.

Crazy stuff seems to follow me around, and it can sometimes be a little frightening. Imagine, if you will, a storm, followed by another, and another. And in the midst of these storms is your little car, packed full of articles, and shared with a noisy passenger. The result might be something like this:



Now, imagine my chagrin, seeing my over-enthusiastic passenger hanging out the window of my car with my several-thousand dollar camera poised from a shakey finger-only grip; snow and wind buffeting even the car. Grey hair shouldn't be too far off.

Given the opportunity to settle out of the cold for a moment, he snapped this one as well:



It appears to be rain on the way, but in actuality, those clouds are producing freezing downdrafts and something akin to slushy hail. I've never seen anything like it, and frankly, when I'm behind the wheel, I wish to never see anything like it again.

Upon arriving to our small cabin, we discovered it to be not-so-small after all. In fact, it was rather large, replete with jacuzzi and enough beds to sate even the most space-hungry materialist. An artist's rendition looks something like this:



The aim of our trip was to raid the nearest hill and to fall down it using one of several methods. Mine happened to be the snowboard, a curious invention which allows you to fall in any direction except those that your body is used to. Needless to say, I'm rather black and blue now from my endeavors, but I conquered the board in my own little way. Namely, sideways.

When not on the hill, our time was spent divided between three tasks. The most prominent being soaking in the lavish jacuzzi that adorned the back deck. It was all fun and games until somebody took the chlorine buoy out, reducing our once pristine hot-tub into a yellow cesspool of human skin bacteria. The culprit's excuse? "How was I supposed to know what it was for?"

Grade 6 educations are going pretty cheap these days.

The other two tasks of which I mentioned were split between jamming, and sleeping/having sex. Well, let me put it clearly. This was a once in a lifetime trip, and my pants stayed on the whole time. So, that said, I spent a lot of time playing guitar and sleeping. Well, trying to sleep. Discretion is a lost art amongst North American couples.

More to come soon. My fingers are too sore to keep typing.

My call sign was Echo Base.

It's a lie

Your Candy Heart Says "Cutie Pie"

You always seem to have a hot date, even though you never try to meet anyone. A total charmer, you have a natural appeal that keeps you in high demand. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: multiple dates with multiple people Your flirting style: 100% natural What turns you off: serious relationship talks Why you're hot: you're totally addicting

What Does Your Candy Heart Say?

Something tells me that this a lie. And a very horrible one at that.

Is there an option to check none of the above?

Shrapnel

I'm not feeling so good this week. Bare torso's and sexy hair aside, this week is shaping up to be more rotten than a propagandist's wet dream.

I won't bore you all with details... but I'm going to be gone for a few days. Depending on which respective douche-bag opens their mouth the most, my hiatus will either be recuperative, or stressful. I'm hoping not the latter, because I'm at breaking point as it is, and anyone being remotely retarded on this trip is going to get sacked. Hard.

Motivation in school seems to have melted away. Very certainly to the chagrin of my teachers. I've been trying to find someway to motivate myself, but second semester has devolved into a flurry of busy-work, and I'm tired of fooling myself into believing that this education is giving me anything. I'm hoping practicum will bring me something new, but if any of my profs find their way to this, understand that making all assignments mandatory for graduation is not the answer to the problem that's been plaguing the students.

Also, hang and shoot whoever made the schedule. Seriously.

Gentlemen

Consider the challenge settled. I won't be held responsible for any daydreaming, swooning, or spontaneous orgasms.



Ah shit. Now I'm sure the fur traders are onto me.

And as if that wasn't bad enough...



Somebody's going to wonder where their pack animal has gone. Sadly, my arms are actually somewhat muscular, but carrying around a 40 lbs. backpack all day has given me the equivalent of bridge cabelling in my back.

I'm also noticing the kidney bulges for the first time. I guess it's time to lay off the booze.

Trevor, your turn buddy.
If the ladies aren't under yet, one more of us oughta do it.

Public Service Announcement

A small message to the governments, powers, and associations of the world.

Grow up.

Tumble

So. I supposedly look good in a black leather jacket. I've only been wearing them for three years, and now suddenly they "look good."

Sheesh.

Next they'll be saying socks are a novel concept.

As the Reading Week trip to Fernie edges ever-closer, I've been having some dreadful thoughts about what could go wrong on the trip. That would be me, the "eternal pessimist". But the lack of contingency planning, or any planning for that matter, has left me shaking my head. We're not even sure how we're all getting out there. I've got my car, and that's all I'm counting on. Aside from that, I guess this is what happens when people let the ass do the decision making, and the brain takes the cheap-seats.

Coming with me are my two really good and trustworthy friends. My guitar, and my electric keyboard. The latter hasn't seen the light of day in nigh a year or two, so it'll be good to pull out and reminisce of the days when I could fool around and nobody would care what godawful noise I made.

Hell. They call that Industrial now.

It snowed and rained today. I've never seen the sun and snow fight over a patch of sky so vigorously before. I was blinded by the combination of light and snowflakes trying to enter my eyes. Weird. I think the sun and the blowing, and the snow can all take a hike for a couple weeks. I'm about ready for some monotone grey, with mild temperatures, and zero chance for bullshit in the forecast.

-30 would be nice too. We haven't hit that yet this winter, and I want to get that out of the way before spring gets here.

Here's to the Senioritis

And the death of all that is inspiration.

Somebody shot the muse with an arrow and she fell from cloud nine onto the mill press of mediocrity.

They steamrolled her into a million textbooks and they charge $80 a copy, not including tax.

People then read these books and think how drab the language has become, and they deface her dessicated corpse with highlighters and pencil. Sometimes doodling in the corners, memorials as if once, she was alive.

Here's to the blank pages that don't write their own stories anymore. The flowery words and deep descriptions have been trimmed and replaced with clipped lawns and practical impracticalities.

Here's to the death of fancy, and fanciful tales. Their children were news that aspired to whimsy but ended up in the morgue of tabloid dissection.

Here's to the death of music, and it's many, many reincarnations. The flash in the pan produced smoke, which when inhaled, creates a lifetime of great lyrics.

These great lyrics are then repeated. And repeated. And repeated. Everytime, some new tune is applied, some new sound. And each claims the old for their own, and everytime, the shine of the once-great song grows a bit duller until there is nothing left but boring words and a thousand culprits with glitter on their fingers.

Here's to the Senioritis. The disease that plagues the learning process, when there's nothing left to learn. The choker that's left on after the training is done, and the redundancy that comes from things made redundant, and to the repitition that is teaching us and killing us.

We will be but intelligent corpses.

Hunted by a Freak

The tale of how a few small animals, living in their humble pet store were suddenly finding themselves plummeting toward certain death.

Mogwai: Hunted by a Freak

This isn't a music video for those who are easily disturbed. If the thought of cute little animals getting tossed off a roof disturbs you on a deep level, I suggest you don't watch this clip.

I was, at first appalled that somebody would make a music vid like this... but upon consulting the old news archives, tossing small animals off of roofs is something that has happened in the past. Somebody pondering suicide would buy a handfull of small animals, and then toss them off a roof, just to see what it would look like when they did it.

On top of that... some of the critters shown in the vid could be animalistic paralells to us humans. A bird with its wings tied. A black cat. A turtle that doesn't want to come out of its shell.

Something to think about at least...

Not Here

I'm not here this week. Well, I will be, but I don't want anyone to know.

Things at the college have unravelled at the seams. If you know office politics, this is the same thing, except take away 20 years of maturity. As I've discussed with Dan, I wish I was the king of the world, that way I wouldn't have to put up with anybody's bullshit.

Trust me. Times like these, a little authoritarian tyranny would be an improvement.

I'm thoroughly disgusted right now. Disgusted by people's abuse of power. It's on a smaller scale than a government, but it just reassures me that no person should have authority over any other person, unless that power is freely given and freely taken. Respect.

I wouldn't be a king to any person that didn't crown me themselves.

Fifteen Things

15 things over the last week that I wish people would never do again.

1) Driving in the middle of winter with the window rolled down, while trailing behind a cattle truck. Please, never do this. Your passengers and their noses will thank you.

2) Write campus restaurant reviews. We've all eaten there. We all know what it's like. Thank you.

3) Get my attention by slapping the back of my head. If you want to lose a hand, please continue.

4) Get my attention by making a loud and piercing "Pssst!" sound. If you would like to keep your lower jaw safely paralell with your upper, refrain from using this method of getting attention.

5) Get angry at newspaper cartoons. They're just cartoons. Not even the creators take them seriously.

6) Take a bad picture, put it in photoshop, drop it to black and white, and then call it art.

7) Complain about McDonalds.

8) Complain about the Liberals.

9) Complain about the Liberals eating at McDonalds.

10) Complaining about a lack of events organized by the student union when you don't attend any of the events they do host anyway.

11) Complain about the lack of an express isle in a bulk warehouse.

12) Drive at night without headlights on.

13) Drive at night without headlights on while simultaneously giving me the finger for flashing my highbeams.

14) Listen to Skinny Puppy and Deftones and call it "emo."

15) Have unprotected sex on your best friend's couch with your best friend's girlfriend.*

*This one is by word of mouth. Nobody I know anyway, but still. Please refrain. Especially if it's unfaithful.