...maybe I can go fondle somebody and get away with it.
At least, this is the latest crazy logic to precipitate out of the shit-storm that's roiling over the Catholic bishops and their molestation of kids. It's not officially endorsed by the Catholic Church yet, but apparently hidden messages in religious art manipulated the subconscious of the bishops into believing they should have sexual relationships with kids.
Yes, you saw right. They're making a movie on it, replete with "experts," etc. I'm sure though, if I wanted to prove pigs fly and the collected flatulence of all the beer-swilling football jocks makes the world go 'round, I could probably find "experts" for that too. Frankly, the thought that bits and pieces of art made a bunch of Bishops do these things to kids, and then using it as an excuse for their activities just burns me to no end.
The trailer includes a quote mentioning that the subconscious is a powerful thing. Don't get me wrong, it is. Dreams can be very powerful, but the subconscious is called the subconscious for a reason. It is beneath rational thought. It is overridden during the waking hours, and plays very little into actual decision-making. Notions, deja-vu, and quasi-understanding are all realms of the subconscious. Deciding to molest little kids is not.
However, I doubt any of that will be brought up. Religious institutions have never been known to take responsibility for the misdeeds that fall under their wing.
Because, you know... apparently the crusades weren't run by Christians.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Life as an Afterthought
-G
Our Hero.
If only he could get out of bed in the morning.
If only he could see his own glory.
If only he felt not as a fool.
If only he wasn't just our tool.
Our Hero.
Our Hero.
If only he could get out of bed in the morning.
If only he could see his own glory.
If only he felt not as a fool.
If only he wasn't just our tool.
Our Hero.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
He's not a Princess... yet
I don't understand why, but apparently my ugly, unclean, unshaven mug is in high demand. Well, you morbid voyeurs, enjoy.
Note that the hair distinctly ends before my eyes begin, and there is indeed a visible gap on the back of neck between my shirt and my hair.
Bonus round. Those of you actively investing in the stockmarket right now should beware... for System of a Dow makes it's debut on the markets today.
And as if that wasn't good enough, what else have I got in my bag of tricks? None other than a bottle graveyard, left to molt in the corner of my friend's room. Oh Jen, how could you? They're not even dignified with a proper burial. Take them out, recycle them, so that their children might enjoy a brigher future as more plastic bottles, road components, or the cheap timing fuse used in a third-world country's nuclear artillery.
This is... or was... a lot of pop.
Anyway, so I have dumped my pictures. Yes. The last two are a pathetic excuse to divert criticism away from my lazy ass. I'm hoping, planning, plotting, to get out this weekend and take some time to myself, and do a little more photography, but smite me with quicksilver if anything I plan ever comes to fruition how I planned it, if at all.
Edit: Christmas lights? Christ, how did I not see those?
Further Edit: No shit.
Note that the hair distinctly ends before my eyes begin, and there is indeed a visible gap on the back of neck between my shirt and my hair.
Bonus round. Those of you actively investing in the stockmarket right now should beware... for System of a Dow makes it's debut on the markets today.
And as if that wasn't good enough, what else have I got in my bag of tricks? None other than a bottle graveyard, left to molt in the corner of my friend's room. Oh Jen, how could you? They're not even dignified with a proper burial. Take them out, recycle them, so that their children might enjoy a brigher future as more plastic bottles, road components, or the cheap timing fuse used in a third-world country's nuclear artillery.
This is... or was... a lot of pop.
Anyway, so I have dumped my pictures. Yes. The last two are a pathetic excuse to divert criticism away from my lazy ass. I'm hoping, planning, plotting, to get out this weekend and take some time to myself, and do a little more photography, but smite me with quicksilver if anything I plan ever comes to fruition how I planned it, if at all.
Edit: Christmas lights? Christ, how did I not see those?
Further Edit: No shit.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
No Title This Time
It's always amused me when people talk.
I love how if I do something wrong and I blame myself, there's immediately a chorus of people telling me it wasn't my fault...
and yet,
When I say something is somebody elses fault, people turn around and says I should take responsibility for what happens.
Hate me up until a point that I hate myself, and then draw the line and feel sorry. Anyone who says they don't have two faces is lying. Because everyone's got that remorseless self-preserving instinct, and everyone also has the capacity for empathy and compassion.
Those who deny one and accept the other are lying to themselves, and those who bear both at the same time live in a world of insane juxtaposition, where people stab with one hand and shake with the other.
The only absolution is that nothing is absolute, nothing is permanent. Empires rise and fall, we are born and die, and the sun must set before it can rise. This is the way of things, but in their mortal lives, humankind has tried time and again to create something that outlives itself.
Failing everytime with the fall of each dynasty. But of course, if we blame ourselves, it's not our fault, and if we blame someone else, we're just not taking enough responsibility.
I love how if I do something wrong and I blame myself, there's immediately a chorus of people telling me it wasn't my fault...
and yet,
When I say something is somebody elses fault, people turn around and says I should take responsibility for what happens.
Hate me up until a point that I hate myself, and then draw the line and feel sorry. Anyone who says they don't have two faces is lying. Because everyone's got that remorseless self-preserving instinct, and everyone also has the capacity for empathy and compassion.
Those who deny one and accept the other are lying to themselves, and those who bear both at the same time live in a world of insane juxtaposition, where people stab with one hand and shake with the other.
The only absolution is that nothing is absolute, nothing is permanent. Empires rise and fall, we are born and die, and the sun must set before it can rise. This is the way of things, but in their mortal lives, humankind has tried time and again to create something that outlives itself.
Failing everytime with the fall of each dynasty. But of course, if we blame ourselves, it's not our fault, and if we blame someone else, we're just not taking enough responsibility.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Nothing to Report
I got out Friday night and jammed with a friend of mine. It was my first chance in a while to get my guitar tuned properly. I really need to get a hold of a Korg in the near future. Maybe tommorrow, if I can get up early enough. My car tire needs air anyway, so maybe I'll pack up my camera, run a few errands, and then depart the city for the rest of the day to get some fresh air and maybe a few photos.
I know, I know. I'm perpetually promising pictures here, and very seldom do I deliver. Frankly, my drive to shoot, and the pictures themselves, have been hovering somewhere around the shits. I think maybe somebody's fucked with my camera while I wasn't around (personal property isn't a word I'm familiar with anymore, I don't own anything), and now I'll have to fix every last setting on it in order to get anything that doesn't look like shite.
Oh. I got my hair cut too. I figured it was time to do something about the shagginess.
I know, I know. I'm perpetually promising pictures here, and very seldom do I deliver. Frankly, my drive to shoot, and the pictures themselves, have been hovering somewhere around the shits. I think maybe somebody's fucked with my camera while I wasn't around (personal property isn't a word I'm familiar with anymore, I don't own anything), and now I'll have to fix every last setting on it in order to get anything that doesn't look like shite.
Oh. I got my hair cut too. I figured it was time to do something about the shagginess.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
So Long Mrs. Smith
So, I was at the Matthew Good acoustic performance last night. I apologize for not being prompt in this entry, but a combination of my own tiredness and the fact that, by the will of blogger, I could not post anything, made it an impossibility.
I must say, that after all the concerts and shows I've been to, this one had been one of the best. There's nothing like walking away from a show having gained something, and not having lost your hearing to pay for it.
Matt played through a lot of his favorites, and some of his more obscure songs. He played Fated, kinda. I'm pretty sure he didn't remember how to play it, but that's alright, because it was still a good time. I definitely hope he gets out to do this again sometime.
Before Matt even took the stage, his special guest, Melissa McClelland, got the crowd going with some of her own songs. I didn't think it before, but I agree with Trevor now. Girl guitarists are hot. And I mean in a very sophisticated kind of way.
Of course, the show was No Minors, between songs, Matt would sip his pint of beer, and speak with the crowd about books he had read (How to Survive a Disaster Handbook, Anne Coulter's latest stuff, etc.), and talk about the history behind each of his songs... often with a good measure of profanity for flavour.
It's still Matthew Good, which, regardless of how acoustic, country, or mellow it gets, will still be great music, and a great personality making that music.
Now, for the A&E All-Request Hour...
"If you're going to go... go out on an ATV."
-Matthew Good, recalling his Audio of Being years.
I must say, that after all the concerts and shows I've been to, this one had been one of the best. There's nothing like walking away from a show having gained something, and not having lost your hearing to pay for it.
Matt played through a lot of his favorites, and some of his more obscure songs. He played Fated, kinda. I'm pretty sure he didn't remember how to play it, but that's alright, because it was still a good time. I definitely hope he gets out to do this again sometime.
Before Matt even took the stage, his special guest, Melissa McClelland, got the crowd going with some of her own songs. I didn't think it before, but I agree with Trevor now. Girl guitarists are hot. And I mean in a very sophisticated kind of way.
Of course, the show was No Minors, between songs, Matt would sip his pint of beer, and speak with the crowd about books he had read (How to Survive a Disaster Handbook, Anne Coulter's latest stuff, etc.), and talk about the history behind each of his songs... often with a good measure of profanity for flavour.
It's still Matthew Good, which, regardless of how acoustic, country, or mellow it gets, will still be great music, and a great personality making that music.
Now, for the A&E All-Request Hour...
"If you're going to go... go out on an ATV."
-Matthew Good, recalling his Audio of Being years.
Monday, March 20, 2006
A World Away
Yesterday, I discussed with Stephanie certain dreams we've had. I seem to have a propensity for the occassional polymorph dream, where I take on the shape of something other than a human.
I always recall one in particular, one where I was aloft in the form of a gigantic bird. I believe it was probably very similar to a Roc, a fantastical creature said to be scores of yards in wingspan, and big enough to blot out the sun when it was in flight. I enjoyed this dream, just because of how visceral it was. It wasn't like I was a human in a bird form, I felt as if I really was a bird. I could feel wings instead of hands and arms, and I could feel my feathers ruffling.
The feathers were jet black, with a few large red ones on the tip of each wing. I remember using the red feathers as markers, I'd point my wingtip toward something and do a big carousel turn around it to change direction without flapping my wings. I'd fly mostly over the sea. The whole thing reminded me of the British isles. Tossing sea below, with rocky little islands surrounding a mist-veiled mainland. Every gust of wind would cause the sea to heave, and my feathers to ruffle a bit, sending a shiver down my back.
I recall, vaguely, landing on one of the small islands. There were three, maybe four houses on it. Counting in dreams is difficult, because it comes from logic in the left side of the brain, whereas dreams are largely controlled by the right side. Anyway, I landed on this little island, and out of these houses came running tens of little kids, probably to come see the big feathery behemoth that's landed on their little island.
They weren't afraid at all. They'd come right up and hug my scaly feet (you ever had scaly feet? It's the weirdest sensation ever), their mothers looking on from their doorways.
I was there for a short time, and then I took off again, catching the last thermals before the sun went down. It was a bit of a wild ride, and then I decided I should turn in. I glided gracefully towards the mist-covered mainland.
The last thing I recall before I woke up, was diving in for a landing, seeing some kind of mob with guns, and bright flash, and then the sensation of falling out of control.
I woke up in a cold sweat, but I remembered the whole thing. I still remember the whole thing. Anybody else had an experience like this, or am I getting on D's boat of Strange and Unexplained phenomena had Whilst Sleeping?
That's not the only one either... but most of the other one's were a bit less pleasant than that one.
Speaking of wild animal dreams, allegedly Fair's been a deer, and Steph's been a man.
I always recall one in particular, one where I was aloft in the form of a gigantic bird. I believe it was probably very similar to a Roc, a fantastical creature said to be scores of yards in wingspan, and big enough to blot out the sun when it was in flight. I enjoyed this dream, just because of how visceral it was. It wasn't like I was a human in a bird form, I felt as if I really was a bird. I could feel wings instead of hands and arms, and I could feel my feathers ruffling.
The feathers were jet black, with a few large red ones on the tip of each wing. I remember using the red feathers as markers, I'd point my wingtip toward something and do a big carousel turn around it to change direction without flapping my wings. I'd fly mostly over the sea. The whole thing reminded me of the British isles. Tossing sea below, with rocky little islands surrounding a mist-veiled mainland. Every gust of wind would cause the sea to heave, and my feathers to ruffle a bit, sending a shiver down my back.
I recall, vaguely, landing on one of the small islands. There were three, maybe four houses on it. Counting in dreams is difficult, because it comes from logic in the left side of the brain, whereas dreams are largely controlled by the right side. Anyway, I landed on this little island, and out of these houses came running tens of little kids, probably to come see the big feathery behemoth that's landed on their little island.
They weren't afraid at all. They'd come right up and hug my scaly feet (you ever had scaly feet? It's the weirdest sensation ever), their mothers looking on from their doorways.
I was there for a short time, and then I took off again, catching the last thermals before the sun went down. It was a bit of a wild ride, and then I decided I should turn in. I glided gracefully towards the mist-covered mainland.
The last thing I recall before I woke up, was diving in for a landing, seeing some kind of mob with guns, and bright flash, and then the sensation of falling out of control.
I woke up in a cold sweat, but I remembered the whole thing. I still remember the whole thing. Anybody else had an experience like this, or am I getting on D's boat of Strange and Unexplained phenomena had Whilst Sleeping?
That's not the only one either... but most of the other one's were a bit less pleasant than that one.
Speaking of wild animal dreams, allegedly Fair's been a deer, and Steph's been a man.
Sunday Spoils
Slept until 2:00 today. What a fucking relief. Except for... you know, the pounding migraine that greeted me when I rose from my slumber.
The weather's cleared off. Not for long, but long enough for the pressure to rise (and the pressure inside my skull to increase as a proportional result).
So, allow me to describe my week for those of you who are so morbidly interested in my recent two week disappearance.
I was on practicum at the Calgary Sun. If they haven't sued me by now, I doubt they will, but anyway, I digress.
My time there was rather enjoyable and productive. I sat at a desk, most of the time. Nothing too fancy. I had a computer and a phone, and I put calls out, and wrote my short articles on the computer (which happened to be an old Mac, running OS 9, typical of most newspapers).
Occassionally, I would get called on to run out and investigate a story.
But as many of you have noticed, I haven't been around. Well, the job was fairly time consuming, mostly on the part of me because I'm a student in a strange office.
But anyway, I'm back now. I've resumed my on-line life, and can be found at the usual places.
Now, just one question remains to be answered...
Who ate all the donuts?
The weather's cleared off. Not for long, but long enough for the pressure to rise (and the pressure inside my skull to increase as a proportional result).
So, allow me to describe my week for those of you who are so morbidly interested in my recent two week disappearance.
I was on practicum at the Calgary Sun. If they haven't sued me by now, I doubt they will, but anyway, I digress.
My time there was rather enjoyable and productive. I sat at a desk, most of the time. Nothing too fancy. I had a computer and a phone, and I put calls out, and wrote my short articles on the computer (which happened to be an old Mac, running OS 9, typical of most newspapers).
Occassionally, I would get called on to run out and investigate a story.
But as many of you have noticed, I haven't been around. Well, the job was fairly time consuming, mostly on the part of me because I'm a student in a strange office.
But anyway, I'm back now. I've resumed my on-line life, and can be found at the usual places.
Now, just one question remains to be answered...
Who ate all the donuts?
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Drive By Sleeping
I've finally made it home again, after a long and ultimately disappointing St. Patricks Day swoiree.
Safe and sound, I'm back in my little quiet corner. I'm... tired. I've been running on pretty much empty for the last two weeks. For those out there who are always ragging on journalists for stupid things like accuracy, integrity, and bias, just think. I've gone the whole last week on one meal a day. I don't drink coffee, and most nights I would only sleep maybe six hours tops. While this is nothing compared to what's going on in the third world, just think. Would you like to lash those who sacrifice their comforts for your entertainment and education? If your answer is yes... well, fuck you.
I think I've lost maybe... 5 pounds this week. That's all fine and good, except... where the fuck do I lose 5 pounds from? It's not like I've exactly got a surplus here.
All I want to do is sleep. Maybe have a couple of nice dreams in there. Haven't had too many of those recently, and life has been... well. Usual.
On a side note, I can't stand Guiness. I can't stand Baileys, and I can't stand Jamieson's Irish Whiskey. I can however, stand the three being combined in an unholy alliance. Drinkers know the demon of which I speak. It's called...
The Irish Car Bomb.
Indeed. I had more than one the past night. And they have been sworn in as an official birthday shot.
Feel better everyone. Geoff's home.
Safe and sound, I'm back in my little quiet corner. I'm... tired. I've been running on pretty much empty for the last two weeks. For those out there who are always ragging on journalists for stupid things like accuracy, integrity, and bias, just think. I've gone the whole last week on one meal a day. I don't drink coffee, and most nights I would only sleep maybe six hours tops. While this is nothing compared to what's going on in the third world, just think. Would you like to lash those who sacrifice their comforts for your entertainment and education? If your answer is yes... well, fuck you.
I think I've lost maybe... 5 pounds this week. That's all fine and good, except... where the fuck do I lose 5 pounds from? It's not like I've exactly got a surplus here.
All I want to do is sleep. Maybe have a couple of nice dreams in there. Haven't had too many of those recently, and life has been... well. Usual.
On a side note, I can't stand Guiness. I can't stand Baileys, and I can't stand Jamieson's Irish Whiskey. I can however, stand the three being combined in an unholy alliance. Drinkers know the demon of which I speak. It's called...
The Irish Car Bomb.
Indeed. I had more than one the past night. And they have been sworn in as an official birthday shot.
Feel better everyone. Geoff's home.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Bright Lights
The city was foggy today. Not the misty blue-gray fog of the river, but a ghastly yellow-brown smog. It seems that even the fog has been corrupted around here.
Tommorrow (or rather today. Look at the time!) marks my second last day of practicum. In retrospect, it's been a rather enjoyable two weeks. Sans the insanity, the stress, and tension, and the untensioning. Next week will see me return to the college for classes, wondering once again why I'm wasting my time and someone else's money learning nothing at all, and being failed for it.
Life just sucks like that sometimes. You're never quite sure what you're supposed to do, but somebody tells you you're doing it wrong.
Do I want to be a journalist in the future? We'll see. Will I apply what I've learned as a journalist in the future? Fucking rights I will.
Today, it just struck me as I was coming home. You know what I hate? Those pricks who drive those new yuppy cars with the super-bright headlights. They always seem to follow too close, or stop at the lights right across from me. I hate getting those fucking lights right in my face. They make my blind and crazy! Just like a flabby old man doing jumping jacks in a speedo!
Sorry folks. But the imagery was necessary.
Tommorrow (or rather today. Look at the time!) marks my second last day of practicum. In retrospect, it's been a rather enjoyable two weeks. Sans the insanity, the stress, and tension, and the untensioning. Next week will see me return to the college for classes, wondering once again why I'm wasting my time and someone else's money learning nothing at all, and being failed for it.
Life just sucks like that sometimes. You're never quite sure what you're supposed to do, but somebody tells you you're doing it wrong.
Do I want to be a journalist in the future? We'll see. Will I apply what I've learned as a journalist in the future? Fucking rights I will.
Today, it just struck me as I was coming home. You know what I hate? Those pricks who drive those new yuppy cars with the super-bright headlights. They always seem to follow too close, or stop at the lights right across from me. I hate getting those fucking lights right in my face. They make my blind and crazy! Just like a flabby old man doing jumping jacks in a speedo!
Sorry folks. But the imagery was necessary.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Three Steps Too Far
My time at the paper has taught me a few things. Like, how ever sentence is its own paragraph. How slugs are always left in lower-case letters. And how the word "and" can start a sentence in a news article.
I've also been able to keep tabs on news going on all over the world. I can tell you, things are not looking good right now.
And by not good, I mean the last step to prevent a war was about three steps ago. Lets recap.
Iran - Working on Nuclear energy, regardless of what it says, could be used for a bomb.
Russia - Pissed off at the Hague over Milosevic's death, even though I'm curious as to why they care.
China - Growing like a colony of rabbits, they're outstripped sustainability, and the mixture of changing economic and political times hints at the possibility of an implosion, not to mention their threat of military action, should Taiwan attempt to reassert its independance.
The U.S. - Threatening Iran, bogged down in Iraq, and losing influence in the world, the U.S. has a rough ride ahead. No amount of guns and bombs will be able to pull it out of the hole that Bush dug.
North Korea - Has the bomb, but is largely forgotten by the industrialized world.
Canada - Is beginning measures to take over the U.S.'s role in Afghanistan. Is having marginally better success than the U.S. had in Iraq. Army is undergoing transformation into a combat force.
Scandinavia - Despite the absense war, the Scandinavian countries countinue to innovate and upgrade their navies to include tactical and anti-nuclear capabilities. Not frightening in it's own right, but the fact that a few countries are advancing as if they were competing with an invisible enemy has me a bit concerned.
So... There's a lot happening in the world, and I'm a bit worried. Probably not the best mix for someone who has to deal with this kind of stuff every day for hours on end, but I'll continue to think about it. If nothing else, it lets me know I haven't fallen into my apathy hole.
What do you all think of this? Should war break out, where will you be?
I've also been able to keep tabs on news going on all over the world. I can tell you, things are not looking good right now.
And by not good, I mean the last step to prevent a war was about three steps ago. Lets recap.
Iran - Working on Nuclear energy, regardless of what it says, could be used for a bomb.
Russia - Pissed off at the Hague over Milosevic's death, even though I'm curious as to why they care.
China - Growing like a colony of rabbits, they're outstripped sustainability, and the mixture of changing economic and political times hints at the possibility of an implosion, not to mention their threat of military action, should Taiwan attempt to reassert its independance.
The U.S. - Threatening Iran, bogged down in Iraq, and losing influence in the world, the U.S. has a rough ride ahead. No amount of guns and bombs will be able to pull it out of the hole that Bush dug.
North Korea - Has the bomb, but is largely forgotten by the industrialized world.
Canada - Is beginning measures to take over the U.S.'s role in Afghanistan. Is having marginally better success than the U.S. had in Iraq. Army is undergoing transformation into a combat force.
Scandinavia - Despite the absense war, the Scandinavian countries countinue to innovate and upgrade their navies to include tactical and anti-nuclear capabilities. Not frightening in it's own right, but the fact that a few countries are advancing as if they were competing with an invisible enemy has me a bit concerned.
So... There's a lot happening in the world, and I'm a bit worried. Probably not the best mix for someone who has to deal with this kind of stuff every day for hours on end, but I'll continue to think about it. If nothing else, it lets me know I haven't fallen into my apathy hole.
What do you all think of this? Should war break out, where will you be?
Friday, March 10, 2006
Bizarre
Well.
Strange things afoot in my city.
My head being one of them.
Apologies if I've offended anyone recently.
I just haven't been myself.
And I don't know what's bothering me.
Must be all the shootings...
The shootings and the family...
Or maybe it's just me.
Strange things afoot in my city.
My head being one of them.
Apologies if I've offended anyone recently.
I just haven't been myself.
And I don't know what's bothering me.
Must be all the shootings...
The shootings and the family...
Or maybe it's just me.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
My Discretion
I can't sleep, and I'm feeling particularly morose right now.
Not that anybody cares what I feel or when, but as it's been known to be, my suffering fuels my writing, so I shall suffer for your entertainment.
I don't really know what to say right now. It seems a lot of circles have closed in the last few months, and all the little places I was in when the circle opened, I've returned to now that it's run full circuit. It feels like, for the last three and a half years, I've done something... but it feels like it was all a dream, and that time's lost to me now.
The time might be gone, but the knowledge... and the memories are still there. It's like that feeling after waking up from a nightmare, that sinking black hole at the bottom of your stomach. You feel terrible, until rationality takes control and you realize it was all just a dream and you can get back to living whatever life you had before you went to bed.
I tend to get that feeling, sans the nightmare. Sleep, no matter what it brings, is a release, because no matter what terror my subconscious concocts, it's never anywhere near as bizarre or as painful as the real world, and what I've experienced here. Take from that what you wish. I could just be a wuss, but everything is scalar.
I mean, a walrus with jagged fangs and burning saliva is pretty terrifying... but waking up to find some domestic terror waiting for you in the dawning hours of the day is even more so. Simply because you cannot sit up suddenly and make it all go away.
It's been no mystery that I haven't been getting along with my parents lately. I'm starting to get my typical young-adult bull-headedness, and I can't stand it when my independance is threatened. I don't need a helmet. I don't need the club for my car, and I don't need to call home from work everyday (I don't, I don't, and I haven't).
Isn't it typical that they want me to live at home until I have enough money saved up to buy my own house... in Calgary?
Idiocy. All of it. I'm not coming back home this summer, and when I do go house hunting, why in the flying fuck would I look in the hottest housing industry in Canada? Why? Why would I want to pay 5 times the worth of a house when I can look in a smaller community and get the same house for a bargain? Why the fuck would I want to live within radio range of home, let alone within driving range?
I want out goddamnit!
Progression. Change. I've done lots, but done so little at the same time. I want to go places and do things...
But then there's the routine. See above outburst.
Take none of this seriously. I feel better now.
Not that anybody cares what I feel or when, but as it's been known to be, my suffering fuels my writing, so I shall suffer for your entertainment.
I don't really know what to say right now. It seems a lot of circles have closed in the last few months, and all the little places I was in when the circle opened, I've returned to now that it's run full circuit. It feels like, for the last three and a half years, I've done something... but it feels like it was all a dream, and that time's lost to me now.
The time might be gone, but the knowledge... and the memories are still there. It's like that feeling after waking up from a nightmare, that sinking black hole at the bottom of your stomach. You feel terrible, until rationality takes control and you realize it was all just a dream and you can get back to living whatever life you had before you went to bed.
I tend to get that feeling, sans the nightmare. Sleep, no matter what it brings, is a release, because no matter what terror my subconscious concocts, it's never anywhere near as bizarre or as painful as the real world, and what I've experienced here. Take from that what you wish. I could just be a wuss, but everything is scalar.
I mean, a walrus with jagged fangs and burning saliva is pretty terrifying... but waking up to find some domestic terror waiting for you in the dawning hours of the day is even more so. Simply because you cannot sit up suddenly and make it all go away.
It's been no mystery that I haven't been getting along with my parents lately. I'm starting to get my typical young-adult bull-headedness, and I can't stand it when my independance is threatened. I don't need a helmet. I don't need the club for my car, and I don't need to call home from work everyday (I don't, I don't, and I haven't).
Isn't it typical that they want me to live at home until I have enough money saved up to buy my own house... in Calgary?
Idiocy. All of it. I'm not coming back home this summer, and when I do go house hunting, why in the flying fuck would I look in the hottest housing industry in Canada? Why? Why would I want to pay 5 times the worth of a house when I can look in a smaller community and get the same house for a bargain? Why the fuck would I want to live within radio range of home, let alone within driving range?
I want out goddamnit!
Progression. Change. I've done lots, but done so little at the same time. I want to go places and do things...
But then there's the routine. See above outburst.
Take none of this seriously. I feel better now.
Burning Bridges
Yep. If there's one thing I'm good at...
I never seem to outgrow my habit of leaving people behind.
Stick with your friends, the pundits say. What are friends though? Are they the ones ridiculing me behind my back? Are they the ones leeching my earnings? Are they the cunt-mongering animals who paw after my real friends like starved wolves to the doe?
I see no point in changing to accomodate people who use me. I see no point in rewarding the abuse. The lies.
I see no point in denying the goddamned truth. In North America, a "friend" is often a mutual leeching. We all take from each other until one of us runs dry, and then we leave the dry husk behind to rot in his or her own exclusion.
Only here could we have friends that we have to watch our back for. Only here do we have to watch our tongues around those we care about, because we know that having someone close just means there's another knife that much closer to our backs.
And yet, we find it offensive when someone questions us. It's like looking at the problem.
Of course. We're all trustworthy here. Don't mind us as we circle each other in a dirvish dance like sharks circling a wounded seal. You won't feel a thing.
And that's what is so frightening.
I never seem to outgrow my habit of leaving people behind.
Stick with your friends, the pundits say. What are friends though? Are they the ones ridiculing me behind my back? Are they the ones leeching my earnings? Are they the cunt-mongering animals who paw after my real friends like starved wolves to the doe?
I see no point in changing to accomodate people who use me. I see no point in rewarding the abuse. The lies.
I see no point in denying the goddamned truth. In North America, a "friend" is often a mutual leeching. We all take from each other until one of us runs dry, and then we leave the dry husk behind to rot in his or her own exclusion.
Only here could we have friends that we have to watch our back for. Only here do we have to watch our tongues around those we care about, because we know that having someone close just means there's another knife that much closer to our backs.
And yet, we find it offensive when someone questions us. It's like looking at the problem.
Of course. We're all trustworthy here. Don't mind us as we circle each other in a dirvish dance like sharks circling a wounded seal. You won't feel a thing.
And that's what is so frightening.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Interregnum
There are things that are fresh and are best enjoyed fresh in this world.
Fear shouldn't be one of them.
Fear shouldn't be one of them.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Scholar
Today was the first day I've ever worked on a daily paper.
Apparently now I'm a good journalist.
The weather was beautiful. Puffy little white clouds in a scrubbed blue sky. The sun, as usual, a pain in the eyes.
I think...
I think maybe...
Nevermind, the thought was there, and then it was gone. I've probably written upwards of 100,000 words on this blog. Some of them have been wise. Some of them have been unpopular. Not all of them are true (or, they are all true, at least from my point of view). More than a few have been connectors and precursors such as "and" and "alas."
Somebody once asked me why I blog. I take it in stride with my writing. And if one should ask why I write, is it not natural for one with lungs to breathe?
So then, if hands are like lungs, I'm concerned. The world's choking. Choking and dying.
I think... that when I'm gone, I'll be the first person in my entire family line to have left something for later generations to come back to, and piece together a fairly accurate (if somewhat twisted) image of me. I'll be the first "grandpa" in my family to live on in something other than a photograph.
Is immortality a kind of power?
Deep thoughts aside, I'm sure there's some "bootlegged" copies of my wretched piano solo out there. I think it'll only be a matter of time before it finds its way onto the internet.
*hint, hint*
I should see if I get weekends off. I've got bills to pay and stuff to buy.
Apparently now I'm a good journalist.
The weather was beautiful. Puffy little white clouds in a scrubbed blue sky. The sun, as usual, a pain in the eyes.
I think...
I think maybe...
Nevermind, the thought was there, and then it was gone. I've probably written upwards of 100,000 words on this blog. Some of them have been wise. Some of them have been unpopular. Not all of them are true (or, they are all true, at least from my point of view). More than a few have been connectors and precursors such as "and" and "alas."
Somebody once asked me why I blog. I take it in stride with my writing. And if one should ask why I write, is it not natural for one with lungs to breathe?
So then, if hands are like lungs, I'm concerned. The world's choking. Choking and dying.
I think... that when I'm gone, I'll be the first person in my entire family line to have left something for later generations to come back to, and piece together a fairly accurate (if somewhat twisted) image of me. I'll be the first "grandpa" in my family to live on in something other than a photograph.
Is immortality a kind of power?
Deep thoughts aside, I'm sure there's some "bootlegged" copies of my wretched piano solo out there. I think it'll only be a matter of time before it finds its way onto the internet.
*hint, hint*
I should see if I get weekends off. I've got bills to pay and stuff to buy.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Medeonome
I was trying to do some creative things this morning, while I was waiting for phonecalls and confirmation.
I started with my guitar, which is the most faithful of my instruments. Normally, my fingers know where to go to bring forth measures of sound that are appealing to the aural senses.
Not today.
The cold weather and transits have put my guitar out of tune, and I'm finding I'm in need of a Korg to bring the music back.
So, in lieu of my strings, I found my keys. I dusted off the piano, and started hammering out simple tunes. Crude ones at first, and later ones that would have made Mogwai proud. I recorded one such tune, but my digital recorder is poor, and didn't do anywhere near a decent job of it.
So. I need to make a trip to L&M to get a microphone, a recorder, a Korg, and a speaker synthesizer for port to laptop. Yes. Overhaul.
So after music, I tripped over something else I haven't laid eyes on for months. My old sketchpad stared up at me from the floor, blank white pages beckoning. I've never been one for the drawing arts. I have shaky hands, but today they seemed to behave. I drew... something.
I never know what to make of what I draw.
Later on, I attempted made an attempt to try and confrom the rather chaotic swirl of my mind into perfect 4/4 time to try and write down some lyrics. They didn't quite work. Like an amorphous spine of some great amoeba, my lyrics warped and warbled across the screen. The rhythm was off, and then the words didn't rhyme. And then, everything lined up, but it wasn't saying anything at all.
I was stuck in between lyrics that made sense and said nothing, and lyrics too vague that explained the world. Lyrics and I, as I have decided, were just never meant to be.
And then, good news came. My car is fixed, and I got to drive it home tonight.
It feels good to have wheels again.
I started with my guitar, which is the most faithful of my instruments. Normally, my fingers know where to go to bring forth measures of sound that are appealing to the aural senses.
Not today.
The cold weather and transits have put my guitar out of tune, and I'm finding I'm in need of a Korg to bring the music back.
So, in lieu of my strings, I found my keys. I dusted off the piano, and started hammering out simple tunes. Crude ones at first, and later ones that would have made Mogwai proud. I recorded one such tune, but my digital recorder is poor, and didn't do anywhere near a decent job of it.
So. I need to make a trip to L&M to get a microphone, a recorder, a Korg, and a speaker synthesizer for port to laptop. Yes. Overhaul.
So after music, I tripped over something else I haven't laid eyes on for months. My old sketchpad stared up at me from the floor, blank white pages beckoning. I've never been one for the drawing arts. I have shaky hands, but today they seemed to behave. I drew... something.
I never know what to make of what I draw.
Later on, I attempted made an attempt to try and confrom the rather chaotic swirl of my mind into perfect 4/4 time to try and write down some lyrics. They didn't quite work. Like an amorphous spine of some great amoeba, my lyrics warped and warbled across the screen. The rhythm was off, and then the words didn't rhyme. And then, everything lined up, but it wasn't saying anything at all.
I was stuck in between lyrics that made sense and said nothing, and lyrics too vague that explained the world. Lyrics and I, as I have decided, were just never meant to be.
And then, good news came. My car is fixed, and I got to drive it home tonight.
It feels good to have wheels again.
Joy
So. The second largest newspaper in Calgary is taking me on. The guy said that they usually don't, because students in the past have been nothing but trouble... and really, I think I believe him.
So I have some large shoes to fill... but when it comes down to it, all the shit's been pushed aside.
I'm ready for it.
Or I hope I am.
God, what I have I gotten myself into?
So I have some large shoes to fill... but when it comes down to it, all the shit's been pushed aside.
I'm ready for it.
Or I hope I am.
God, what I have I gotten myself into?
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Idiomacy that starts with the letter G
So then. I'm currently without a practicum placement. Considering the weight of the exercise, I normally wouldn't be too concerned. However, the fact that every journalism student needs to have two practicum sessions under their belt in order to graduate puts a little burr in my side.
I'm not laying any blame on this one, however. It was a nightmare of failed communication, bad timing, and the fact that I don't know when to quit other things ahead of time to make time for more important things... like this practicum.
So, I'm waiting on a last gambit for Monday. If I seem a little tense, don't touch me. I'll snap like an elastic that's been stretched from here to Taiwan.
And so, I leave you all now to mull and brood over the day's events.
Edit:
Holy Morbid Fascination, Batman! Someone's been reading Raine's profile, like mad! His hits have risen from 480 to 1130 in the last two months. Jesus Christ, I think somebody's stalking me!
I'm not laying any blame on this one, however. It was a nightmare of failed communication, bad timing, and the fact that I don't know when to quit other things ahead of time to make time for more important things... like this practicum.
So, I'm waiting on a last gambit for Monday. If I seem a little tense, don't touch me. I'll snap like an elastic that's been stretched from here to Taiwan.
And so, I leave you all now to mull and brood over the day's events.
Edit:
Holy Morbid Fascination, Batman! Someone's been reading Raine's profile, like mad! His hits have risen from 480 to 1130 in the last two months. Jesus Christ, I think somebody's stalking me!
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Great
Now then.
Why didn't anybody just get up and say to my face on Thursday?
Nevermind. I'm beginning to see my mistakes.
I'll probably be leaving on Monday. I'll see you all in two weeks.
Edit: I might not actually have to leave. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, but maybe a paper here in Calgary can help a young man out.
Why didn't anybody just get up and say to my face on Thursday?
Nevermind. I'm beginning to see my mistakes.
I'll probably be leaving on Monday. I'll see you all in two weeks.
Edit: I might not actually have to leave. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, but maybe a paper here in Calgary can help a young man out.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Moi
Your IQ Is 110 |
 Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Exceptional Your Mathematical Intelligence is Exceptional Your General Knowledge is Exceptional |
A Quick and Dirty IQ Test
I, ladies and gentlemen, am an idiot savant. I would say that I am actually really good with logic, but unfortunately, the world we live in isn't exactly based on logic anymore, so then neither should I.
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