Giving Pause

It's still a little weird, going back through my entries and the years, seeing my name tagged on my entries. It's a little rush every time. But then again, what is a name if just a title? You could call me anything. A sack of shit by any other name is still a sack of shit.

It's been a busy week, and a busy weekend. I've had a lot to do and a lot to think about. I bungled my first professional bungle, one of many to come, I think. I don't like to pat myself on the back, but I think I did the right thing in my response. I don't like to discuss work on here, but it was a life experience that I've grown from this week. We'll just leave it at that.

Depending on how things go, I'm thinking I may retire from journalism for a bit sometime around the new year and see about going back to school. I've been giving it a bit of thought, but I don't feel like making it a long-term goal at this point. It would likely see me going either to the University of Calgary or the U of A. I don't particularly relish the thought of going to either one, but education these days requires you attend their crappy, overpriced institutions for a paper that essentially equates to bragging rights.

And that's about what sums up my opinion of post-secondary in general. I've seen some real grade-A dickwashers come out of a university thinking they're hot shit because they've taken a course that qualifies them to distinguish between conservative and liberal. I really couldn't care, but often the political courses often churn out a secondary symptom of media conspiracy theorists, who frankly need to find something better to do with their time.

Anyway, that's my little embittered rant for the day. It's been a long day, and it's raining and cold, so I'm cranky.

Enjoy the photo.

Level Up

I finally got a new banner up. I don't know if I like it enough yet to keep it there permanently. One one hand, it's a bit more grainy than I would have liked, but on the other, it gives the header a gritty feel that almost makes you want to look away. Which, perhaps, is arty or provocative in a way.

I've added a new link in the comics too, as well as a few other minor changes. There will definitely be more additions coming in the near future soon too. Now, I just have to get over to the Powe... I mean, Editorial Genocide, and get that shit mopped up too.

No real personal updates at the moment. I had an unexpected day off and it remained largely unexploited. Looking forward to another gonzo week, who knows how it will turn out?

I'm mulling the idea of getting my own domain, so I can put some of my music up with photos and stories, but in all seriousness, I don't know if it'll be worth it in the long run. I guess there'll be only one way to find out.

A walk

It's clear, that shy of getting thousands of dollars worth of counseling, I've got some issues that need working out. When people talk about closure, they usually talk about a death in the family, some great injustice that needs some kind of action to settle it.

I want a different kind of closure. I want to reconcile with my past, so that instead of having to bury it every day and have it poison the garden, I can face it, and feel in my guts that it's settled and I can move on. It's been almost three years now, and it still feels like that when I buried that epoch in my life, I buried a part of myself with it. Maybe that was a piece of innocence I lost, and I'll be forced to go through the rest of my life feeling like I've got a lead weight in my chest where my heart used to be.

It's affected almost every aspect of my life. In hindsight, I haven't had anything that could be remotely called a fruitful relationship since my first one. I think it has a large part that those I keep ending up with are really incapable of connecting with me on the sublime level, which is no fault of their own. It also has to do with the fact that I don't trust easily, if at all. Where some enjoy the benefits of a lifelong friendship that they can always turn to, all I've had is point-blank betrayal. It's almost a rule now that if someone is trying to get close to me, they're going to try and hurt me at one point, whether through a conscious choice, or just for convenience at an opportunity, I don't really care.

I've been too easy to forgive in the past, as - I've been told - to forgive is to be beyond human. Really, all it's done is make me feel used. Perhaps my lack of faith in humanity is also part of my lack of faith in a benevolent God. If he created us in his image, I can only imagine that such a deity would have a second face that the theologists are loathe to describe.

But anyway, this post isn't about my religious beliefs. It's about what I intend.

When I go home in a couple of Fridays, I'm going to go for a walk. I know I swore I never would have reason to walk in the park east of my house again, I'm going to do it. Maybe scavenge some memories of a happier time, before things got retarded. Maybe I'll get some answers as to why things turned out the way they did, and perhaps where I'm supposed to go next.

I doubt anything will come of it, as my default state seems to be lost at sea. But you never know. I may bring my camera along, so I might snap some pictures of where things used to be, but aren't anymore.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if by chance I stumbled on familiar, painful faces while I'm out walking. But perhaps I'll catch up on the times. And see where everyone has gone, when they decided I was no longer worth keeping around.

Odds are the gates swung wide for them, just as they shut steadfastly for me.
Such are the way things go.

A break in the clouds

It finally stopped snowing today. Maybe it's a sign that spring is done being hung up and is actually on it's way now. I don't know.

I've been in kind of an anti-social mood lately. And I don't mean that I'm just being quiet. I've been actively avoiding people. It showed up this week in my work. I didn't want to call people to talk. I didn't want to listen to people's problems. I didn't want to hear about all the rotten and horrible things that are going on in the community and how nobody's doing anything about it. I didn't want to listen to the bullshitters telling me what I should be writing, when I know damn well what my job is.

I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet, but I never really got it this week. I got about an hour to snooze on the couch yesterday, and by jove was that ever nice. Sleeping at night is almost a chore now, because it's never really long enough and I always feel like shit when I get up. It doesn't help that I skip breakfast to make it to work on time.

I can tell it's spring as well, because people are becoming retarded. Ask me about it in the fall, and I'll tell you all about it, but for now... I'm just watching.

I'm making a stew for dinner tonight. It'll be the first real food I've had since I was last in Calgary. Wal-mart brand canned spaghetti is not a valid meal replacement, speaking from experience.

Anyway, I should be getting back to work.

Cadmus

I've been having a lot of short, really vivid dreams of late. Don't know why. Maybe I'm finally losing it, and I'm going psychotic. Wouldn't that be fun? Anyway, here's what happened.

"I'm sure everything will be fine in the end," she said.
We were sitting on a beach, except it was devoid of any water, and the sand was pulverized to dust.
"I'm not so sure," I replied, grabbing a handful of sand and absently running it through my fingers.
"Why not?"
I ran another handful of dust between my fingers.
"This is people," I said. Grabbing a clump of the dust.
"This is their lives," I ran it through my fingers.
A slight wind gusted, blowing over the neat piles of the stuff I had made.
"I don't understand," she said, looking at me.
I hate looking people in the eyes when I'm dreaming, because I know what they're thinking.
I ran my hand lightly across her arm, and she watched in horror as it fell to the ground and turned to dust.
"That's all we are," I said. She vainly tried to grasp the remnants of her arm as it blew away in the wind.
"It won't work," I said. "You have to think about it."
She panicked, and in a gust, turned entirely to dust herself and disappeared.

Though I didn't feel moved in my dream, I woke up at that point in a cold sweat. The whole thing happened in the period of a few minutes between my hitting the snooze button and the alarm going off again. The whole thing was disquieting, and my day's been off as a result.

Dischordance

I will never understand why women do this.

They have their heart set on someone.
He's out of reach for the moment.
So they look for someone else, usually pointlessly, because while they're looking or with someone else, all their thoughts and efforts are still directed to the first objective.

Retarded.
That's what it is.
Make up your minds.

Equal Steps & Falling Down

I had a dream last night, which as I've posted several before, I really don't know if anyone cares, but I'll share it anyway.

It started off with a multitude of screamings. I couldn't see. It was like my eyes didn't want to move in my head. Finally, things got quiet and dark. I found I could move my eyes again. There was starlight, but no moon. The ground was littered with debris, and everywhere there was spintered remains of trees and smouldering patches.

The air was heavy with the smell of burnt pine. Like camping, you get a whiff and you immediately relax. I had no idea what was going on. It was dark and smoky, and aside from the stars, I had no immediate landmarks with which to travel by. With no memory of how I got there (usually what trips me off that I'm dreaming is my lack of memory), I set about trying to find my way back home, or at least, something familiar.

The next thing I knew, I was walking down rusty train tracks under slate-gray skies. A light shower was falling, barely enough to wet the pebbles on either side of the track. The smell changed from burnt pine to the smell of old rust and rain. Ahead, the tracks wound through an urban centre, glass office buildings standing like rectangular mirrors, reflecting the overcast skies. There was no sign of any recent habitation, nor was there any sign of houses. This place was nothing but skyscrapers and railways, a hub of commerce that, when it was still alive, never slept.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on a bed of moss, the sounds of the ocean heavy in my ears. The sky was overcast, still raining ever so slightly. The salty tang in the air is familiar, but I almost just want to turn over and go back to sleep. On rolling over, it suddenly feels like I'm falling out of bed.

I'm falling, through gray clouds. The land below is rushing up, almost in slow motion. There's a massive greenish-blue lake below me, surrounded on all sides by a patchwork of farmlands. They are each perfectly tended, although there is no sign of either people nor machinery to maintain them. So I continue to fall, at this point largely aware that it's all a dream.

Just before I impact the glassy surface of the lake, the water warps around me, going all around but never touching. I descend, ever further, until the gray skies behind me are no longer visible. I fall and fall into blackness, until suddenly the smell of burning pine hits me again. There's embers floating in the air, and somewhere I can hear a fire crackling.

I hit dusty earth, but it gives underneath me like a cushion. Coughing on imagined dust, I give a start.

And that's when I woke up. I really don't know why it is I never dream about people, but rather the things that people leave behind.

Cthulu doesn't have anything on this guy

I made it through the week, and thankfully my momentum seems to still be going strong. Maybe I'll make it after all, although there were a few false steps this week.

In any event, I'm curious whether I'll get the weekend off. It really doesn't matter to me one way or the other, but there's something at home I think I should do before it gets left for too long.

In other, more relevant news, I've picked up writing again in my spare time. Same story as last time. I'm contemplating throwing up another excerpt in the near future. I've decided that perhaps there's going to be a bit more of a bloodthirsty tone in the works, at least for combat scenes. I got a bit of inspiration from some of D's writing that it is indeed possible to write stylishly about somebody getting their skull bashed open.

Also, in other news, my cable for my electric guitar has come unmade. It's time to get a new one. Maybe sometime this week or next, we should all pile in and run down to the music store.

Diner

For dinner tonight, I'm eating the descendants of T-Rex.
How awesome is that?

Learning to Walk

It's hard, after coming from a history where disappointment mounted disappointment, to be hopeful for the future.
It's hard, because experience has taught that time and time again, the good things are temporary. To take anything for granted is to lose it, and to put faith in anything is to watch it fail.

It's frustrating to try and get up after that. To take baby steps, it's never fast enough. "Sometimes, you have to just be happy, and throw yourself onto other people," they say. They're fools.

I don't know if I could do it again. I don't know if I could let someone get so close that they would know me, my insecurities, and my secrets. I've grown harder over the years, but just the sheer callousness of those who came before still smarts. I can't help but think what would happen if I armed someone with knowledge about me. What kind of damage they could do.

There are times when I wish I could say "just fuck 'em, who needs them?" and be done with it. But I know, despite my strength, I'm not whole. Not yet. No one is, in their own right. That wanting feeling can be slaked, it can be delayed, it can be filled for a while, but it will never disappear completely. It always comes back.

I thought about that, lying in somebody else's bed. I lied there thinking to myself that I had everything that should complete the formula. And yet, I was still restless and malcontent. I had the right parts, but they didn't fit. She wasn't the right one, despite her constant chiming that we would live forever and ever happily ever after.

No fairytales. She wasn't the right one, and to this day, she still doesn't believe it. This is the callousness as well, that once I'm near, I'm some chattel that can be claimed. I belong to nobody. I make demands of nobody. Whoever I listen to, I listen to out of respect. Whoever I love, I love because I choose to and never will I be ransomed for it! I've been called flighty. Some even dared call me unfaithful.

It makes me wonder, what kind of sheltered life they must live, if frankly discussing with someone how things aren't working constitutes unfaithfulness. I didn't string her along. I didn't keep her waiting in bed while I philandered with the local girls. I didn't make excuses and then use the good faith of the relationship as a weight to guilt her into submission. I frankly opened myself.

And if such is the response I get, I am always curious why I'm so honest and forthright. I could bring a platter of silver, and methinks the ladies would complain it's not gold. Such has been my luck. And yet they're perfectly willing to settle for chops of lead and cadmium, such caustic personalities they do absolutely adore.

I find this world lacking in explanations, and altogether drowning in poor advice. And this is why it is frustrating that I must take baby steps before I can walk, before I can run. Before I can rush and hopefully be there before it's all too late, and everything I want has disappeared.

Hat

I haven't much time, so I will try to be brief.

Amidst reading about the exploits in others' lives this past week, I've come to the startling realization that mine has become rather dull. Well, it's actually not all that startling. I'm working a bazillion hours a week in an office and on the street.

But anyway, I digress. I haven't written or posted here in a long time because, quite simply, I've had nothing to post. I haven't been able to go out and take interesting photos, nor have I had a burst of inspiration beyond the usual puttering of whatever it takes to fill the paper this week.

Not that anyone will read this, I've been meaning to revamp this site for weeks, but whenever I get home, the last thing I feel like doing is any kind of work-related activity.

Add that to the dejection that seems to follow me like a dark cloud, and you could almost say I'm suffering from depression, if it wasn't so cliche and emo to say so.

It's a sad state, to watch this happen. I'd be laughing if it wasn't me. Getting up to move halfway across the province, going through a joke of a relationship, watching my life savings disappear.

Yeah, I'm painting a pretty picture alright. I even left the only person I've learned to trust behind. I'm relying on patience and faith to make sure there's something there when I get back.

But then again, who the fuck has patience?

Stasis

This is one of those weekends where I feel like I should just be able to lie down and sleep the days away as if they were nothing more than a lucid moment. As a "young guy," some of the expectations of me are almost downright insulting. I avoid the bars. I avoid the women this town has to offer. That would be suicide, because all I'd have to do is open my mouth and the whole town would hear it.

Is it possible for anyone to live like this? Yes, I would think that it is. It isn't easy, coming from a city as a relative nobody, and arriving into a town under almost celebrity-like status. The only difference between myself and my evil twin (the ever illustrious, Mr. Gyllenhaal), is the fact that he is universally loved and adored, while I am almost universally treated with contempt or apprehension. To arrive on someone's doorstep, they never quite know how to receive me, whether I come to inquire about good news, or whether I come to interrogate them about dark secrets that they wish for no-one to know besides themselves. It's a mystery that they are afraid to endure, let alone ask about.

All I can say is... what ever did I do to end up here? I mean it. All other jobs in the world that are treated with such... venom, are balmed by the soothing remedy of cash, and lots of it. In this field, however, I receive no solace from any side. At all angles are there teeth; gnashing. Hoping that I will misstep so that they can tear into my vulnerable flanks. It's any wonder, how I've yet avoided serious inflammation in this community. I've been told that my preponderance towards the side of goodness and justice has spared me a lot of ill will in this town, but I know from previous experience that being a good person means precisely nil in the real world, because instant gains and the gratification of being right are just too tempting a nugget to pass up, whatever momentary cost one must pay, or innocent soul be hurt, to get it.

On that note, many people in this community have been good to me, and more than that, some complete strangers have actually baffled me with their decency, and I daresay amiability towards me. As if all I really am is a young guy trying to do his job (imagine the thought!). To them, I will always hold fond memories, no matter where I am. It's a small bit of hope to cling to, I guess; a bit like a candy in my pocket. I will always know it's there, but I know I best cherish it and save it for when I have a particularly mung taste in my mouth.

On that note, friends, I should probably retire for the night. Take care.