Well, I guess it's time for an update. A real update.
I've been tired, lately. Really tired. My weekend at home saw me sleeping for about 10 hours a time, but I'm still bone tired. Add a strange illness/allergy into the mix, and one could say that I'm furiously cranky.
I can be playing a game with friends, and for no other reason than because I can, I'll throw a fit of rage. Usually, it'll involve lots of swearing over the voip, and maybe fragging about 20 people in a row, but frankly I've just been one cranky bastard. Even at work, my temper is short.
It might have something to do with some of the stuff going on this week (I'm not recounting what precisely here, so don't even ask), but my already shortened temperament is finding no shortage of things to trip it off. I think this weekend, though I am working, I will try sleeping more, and also relaxing a bit.
It could also be that I'm just tired of people spouting their shit all the time. I really don't need to hear it. Especially not in the grocery isle when I'm trying to find curry sauce. Definitely not when I'm trying to get work done. And absolutely not when I've got other, significantly more important things that I'm trying to take care of.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Change is in the Wings
Some small bits for the masses.
First off, my editorial blog is going through an upheaval right now. Not that many people read it, but I'm hoping to redo the design on it, etc. Trevor, if you're reading this, I may need your expertise finding that nitpick piece of shit code for the banner again.
Also, I'm hoping to update it weekly with an editorial that I may have thought about concurrent with the ones created in my job, or something along that line. Nothing extraordinarily groundbreaking, and I'm far from what most sane people would call extreme.
Also, I'm considering creating a new banner for the venerable T-storm as well, although I don't know what it will be, I know for sure it will be black and white. I rather liked having the minibars in black and white back before Trevor helped me fix the banners, so I'm going to try and go back to that simplicity.
I'm hoping all this redesigning will help stimulate the creative juices, so I can write something insightful here again. I keep going back and reading my stuff, and it seems that I'm always more retarded now than I was two weeks ago.
I'm guessing that by the time I'm 50, I'm going to be a listless, drooling erudite, left on the streetcorner somewhere in Clenchcheek Nowhere'sland, repeating Shakespeare to myself.
Anyway, see you all later. I will hopefully get all the links fixed up today too, while I'm here.
First off, my editorial blog is going through an upheaval right now. Not that many people read it, but I'm hoping to redo the design on it, etc. Trevor, if you're reading this, I may need your expertise finding that nitpick piece of shit code for the banner again.
Also, I'm hoping to update it weekly with an editorial that I may have thought about concurrent with the ones created in my job, or something along that line. Nothing extraordinarily groundbreaking, and I'm far from what most sane people would call extreme.
Also, I'm considering creating a new banner for the venerable T-storm as well, although I don't know what it will be, I know for sure it will be black and white. I rather liked having the minibars in black and white back before Trevor helped me fix the banners, so I'm going to try and go back to that simplicity.
I'm hoping all this redesigning will help stimulate the creative juices, so I can write something insightful here again. I keep going back and reading my stuff, and it seems that I'm always more retarded now than I was two weeks ago.
I'm guessing that by the time I'm 50, I'm going to be a listless, drooling erudite, left on the streetcorner somewhere in Clenchcheek Nowhere'sland, repeating Shakespeare to myself.
Anyway, see you all later. I will hopefully get all the links fixed up today too, while I'm here.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Dolmen for the children
It's been a pretty bad week. I've been ill for most of the days, and I haven't been able to get a lot of my work done. I haven't been able to focus on writing, in between bouts of sneezing and trying to breathe. However, I think I made up for my lack of quantity with some small measure of quality. If that counts for anything these days.
Bah. Who am I kidding? Size, amount, and appearance is all that matters. Nobody's got time for much else.*
In any event, a while ago I ranted a bit about bullying. Some editorials are coming out on the topic, but I doubt it will gain any kind of momentum.
Why, you might ask?
Well, because nobody really gives a flying fuck. It doesn't even matter if it's their kids being bullied, it's just too much of a hassle to do anything about it. Word is, even the local police have their hands tied since they can't press charges if the offender has been bad-mouthed, or if the victim attempted to defend his or herself.
The whole topic makes me smoulder with rage. While government is trying to portray our society as ascending beyond the need for spanking or other forms of disciplining, our very own children are threatening to kill each other, each other's parents, siblings, and pets. Why? Because they can. Because they can get away with it. Because kids will be kids, you know?
Because they've been taught that it's okay to hate someone so much that you'd stick a butterknife in their eye. Mommy and daddy will only give you a slap on the wrist, so you better do it now, before you can be charged.
It makes me sick. If a kid ends up murdered in this town because he was bullied or because he was a bully, I don't think I'd be able to cover it. I'd be too furious.
If it ever came to that, it would be all the proof I'd need that nobody cares for anything beyond themselves, that instead of ascending to an understanding and free society, we've devolved into an apathetic (emphasis on the pathetic) and basic culture.
If we have to build a dolmen for a child in this community, I'll be hanging up my hat. Obviously, if nobody's going to listen to the warnings, then I'm out of a job.
Bah. Who am I kidding? Size, amount, and appearance is all that matters. Nobody's got time for much else.*
In any event, a while ago I ranted a bit about bullying. Some editorials are coming out on the topic, but I doubt it will gain any kind of momentum.
Why, you might ask?
Well, because nobody really gives a flying fuck. It doesn't even matter if it's their kids being bullied, it's just too much of a hassle to do anything about it. Word is, even the local police have their hands tied since they can't press charges if the offender has been bad-mouthed, or if the victim attempted to defend his or herself.
The whole topic makes me smoulder with rage. While government is trying to portray our society as ascending beyond the need for spanking or other forms of disciplining, our very own children are threatening to kill each other, each other's parents, siblings, and pets. Why? Because they can. Because they can get away with it. Because kids will be kids, you know?
Because they've been taught that it's okay to hate someone so much that you'd stick a butterknife in their eye. Mommy and daddy will only give you a slap on the wrist, so you better do it now, before you can be charged.
It makes me sick. If a kid ends up murdered in this town because he was bullied or because he was a bully, I don't think I'd be able to cover it. I'd be too furious.
If it ever came to that, it would be all the proof I'd need that nobody cares for anything beyond themselves, that instead of ascending to an understanding and free society, we've devolved into an apathetic (emphasis on the pathetic) and basic culture.
If we have to build a dolmen for a child in this community, I'll be hanging up my hat. Obviously, if nobody's going to listen to the warnings, then I'm out of a job.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Let us take from them
It's almost heartbreaking to watch, from my little front row seat.
This must be the first world. We all have so much, and yet we must take more. We must take, and we must have, and others must provide it.
I'm watching several thousand students get the shaft this week. Just like they got it last week, and the week before. I'm watching a stoic claw his way back from losing everything after his home burnt down. I'm watching a family learn a valuable life lesson, while rich, philandering yuppies walk about them on the street with their noses in the air. Indignant. Self-righteous.
It's almost heartbreaking, except I can do something about it. A small thing, but still something.
We all want to live the high life, but having wads of cash to light cuban cigars with doesn't give the right to ignorance. Nor does having lots give anyone the right to take even more.
Anyway, I've lost where I was going with this, but it's been a burr under my saddle this week, and I thought it best I get it out.
This must be the first world. We all have so much, and yet we must take more. We must take, and we must have, and others must provide it.
I'm watching several thousand students get the shaft this week. Just like they got it last week, and the week before. I'm watching a stoic claw his way back from losing everything after his home burnt down. I'm watching a family learn a valuable life lesson, while rich, philandering yuppies walk about them on the street with their noses in the air. Indignant. Self-righteous.
It's almost heartbreaking, except I can do something about it. A small thing, but still something.
We all want to live the high life, but having wads of cash to light cuban cigars with doesn't give the right to ignorance. Nor does having lots give anyone the right to take even more.
Anyway, I've lost where I was going with this, but it's been a burr under my saddle this week, and I thought it best I get it out.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Hit me again, I must be sleeping
I'm back in my home city for a brief weekend off. It always seems I have a lot of stuff to do while I'm here. Passport paperwork and photo tommorrow, and a check in with my masochistic dentist on Monday.
It's strange that I should, only now, be getting a passport. I wanted one two summers ago, when the ambition to travel was full in me. My parents got on my case about having limited funds and unlimited ambitions, and how that would inevitably put me in dire financial straits. They essentially told me that I needed a job to ensure that, when I did go travelling, there would be money left in the bank for when I get home.
Naturally, in the process of getting a job, acclimating to that job, and adjusting to the way of life, I've now spent every penny I had saved up for travelling. In the process of attempting to make money, I've actually lost my savings. Remind me again. Wake me please. Why am I losing money to work? Isn't it supposed to go the other way around?
So now, my parents are distraught that I didn't travel. I didn't even bring it up. Why would I, when every second word, two summers ago, ran into a sentence along the lines of, "did you apply."
Yes, mum. I applied. Now I'm watching as my hopes and dreams for my young adult life are being flushed away because you wouldn't let me take that risk that I was desperate to take. Nobody really listened when I voiced my concerns that this job isn't something I can just hop into and have a better living. Not a damn one. I knew what was going to happen, but everyone had it in their heads that by working, I'd be making money. That by working, I'd somehow be working towards the realization of my dreams, when I've known all along that they are lying at polar opposites from each other.
Guess the joke's on me. I'd say I'll know better for next time, but guess what kids?
There is no fucking next time.
It's strange that I should, only now, be getting a passport. I wanted one two summers ago, when the ambition to travel was full in me. My parents got on my case about having limited funds and unlimited ambitions, and how that would inevitably put me in dire financial straits. They essentially told me that I needed a job to ensure that, when I did go travelling, there would be money left in the bank for when I get home.
Naturally, in the process of getting a job, acclimating to that job, and adjusting to the way of life, I've now spent every penny I had saved up for travelling. In the process of attempting to make money, I've actually lost my savings. Remind me again. Wake me please. Why am I losing money to work? Isn't it supposed to go the other way around?
So now, my parents are distraught that I didn't travel. I didn't even bring it up. Why would I, when every second word, two summers ago, ran into a sentence along the lines of, "did you apply."
Yes, mum. I applied. Now I'm watching as my hopes and dreams for my young adult life are being flushed away because you wouldn't let me take that risk that I was desperate to take. Nobody really listened when I voiced my concerns that this job isn't something I can just hop into and have a better living. Not a damn one. I knew what was going to happen, but everyone had it in their heads that by working, I'd be making money. That by working, I'd somehow be working towards the realization of my dreams, when I've known all along that they are lying at polar opposites from each other.
Guess the joke's on me. I'd say I'll know better for next time, but guess what kids?
There is no fucking next time.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Oogiliah Blues
Well, I'm sitting in the office, wondering why I'm sitting in the office. I'd rather be going nuts on some ivory right now (that means playing piano, folks), but here I am, damn my initiative for trying to get things done early.
I recorded a little something last night, which should've already found its way into the appropriate inboxes. Trust me when I say it sounds about a billion times worse recorded than it did when I was actually playing it. Also, if you're wondering what I'm saying before the music starts:
"You know, back in the day, someone told me I couldn't play music to save my life."
and
"Okay. For real this time."
Damn, it's nice outside today. Why do I always get the nice weekends to work, and when I want good weather to drive home, it's always crummy?
I recorded a little something last night, which should've already found its way into the appropriate inboxes. Trust me when I say it sounds about a billion times worse recorded than it did when I was actually playing it. Also, if you're wondering what I'm saying before the music starts:
"You know, back in the day, someone told me I couldn't play music to save my life."
and
"Okay. For real this time."
Damn, it's nice outside today. Why do I always get the nice weekends to work, and when I want good weather to drive home, it's always crummy?
Friday, March 02, 2007
Burn these words
Sacrifice.
What can we get without having to give in return? Who can we dupe to take the fall for us, so we can wade through shitsville and come out smelling like a rose?
Sacrifice.
What are lives, if only pawns for the agenda? Living in the first world becomes almost counter-productive. Humankind was built to struggle for its existence. Just look around. When there aren't enough problems to contend with every day, the children go out and make their own, manufactured so that, for a while anyway, they don't feel completely useless. They feel like they've got a cause, something to fight against. A reason for living.
Sacrifice.
What's the first casualty to our ambitions? Unlike the poets' words, Love is always the first to go. Long-married couples need only a single moment... and single instance, and everything they've shared is moot. A couple on opposite sides of the fence cannot find a way to be together, for they will surely be called traitors and stoned to death.
Sacrifice.
How much is your blood, sweat, and tears worth to you? Because it is worth nothing to those around you. You are a statistic, a nameless face, and even at times, the enemy. You are competition that needs to be put aside, you are merely a foe who hasn't declared war yet.
Sacrifice.
Everything you have, you'd give away in an instant for something better. Everything you worked for is nothing in the face of a moment of instant gratification. There is no patience, there is no restraint.
There's only sacrifice.
What can we get without having to give in return? Who can we dupe to take the fall for us, so we can wade through shitsville and come out smelling like a rose?
Sacrifice.
What are lives, if only pawns for the agenda? Living in the first world becomes almost counter-productive. Humankind was built to struggle for its existence. Just look around. When there aren't enough problems to contend with every day, the children go out and make their own, manufactured so that, for a while anyway, they don't feel completely useless. They feel like they've got a cause, something to fight against. A reason for living.
Sacrifice.
What's the first casualty to our ambitions? Unlike the poets' words, Love is always the first to go. Long-married couples need only a single moment... and single instance, and everything they've shared is moot. A couple on opposite sides of the fence cannot find a way to be together, for they will surely be called traitors and stoned to death.
Sacrifice.
How much is your blood, sweat, and tears worth to you? Because it is worth nothing to those around you. You are a statistic, a nameless face, and even at times, the enemy. You are competition that needs to be put aside, you are merely a foe who hasn't declared war yet.
Sacrifice.
Everything you have, you'd give away in an instant for something better. Everything you worked for is nothing in the face of a moment of instant gratification. There is no patience, there is no restraint.
There's only sacrifice.
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