Discrimiantion

I don't know if I've already gone off about this before or not, but I'm going to go off on it again!

They say you can't judge a book by its cover, and with this I mostly agree. More accurately, this phrase should be "you can't judge a book by it's cover material." Because let's face it, if you picked up a black leather-bound book that read "Titwick and the Garden of Feelinghood" you would be more than inclined to have a peek and almost guaranteed not to buy that book. Just the same, if there was a nice hardcover titled "Your Inner Tiger" you would ignore the book altogether for being lame. And we all know some of the cheap old paperbacks are where the good shit is at (and yes, a substantial amount of garbage). This is the metaphor for opposing racism and sexism and other visual-isms. They say not to be discriminatory.

But discrimination is key to our very survival. We discriminate against panthers for being ferocious, but we like kitties. We discriminate against rapists, but love lovers. Yes, there is a big fucking difference, thanks for pointing that out. There is also a difference between cool people and douchewads. So, while you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover [material] (but, hey, you can do whatever the fuck you want), you can judge a book by it's preface. If you hate a book by the preface, you are entitled to put that book down and say "that was dumb". If a jerk is a jerk, you call them a jerk. I don't care if they're black or a girl or handicapped or poor or what. Jerks are jerks. If they're going to be jerks then don't tell people they're okay. They don't to be given your chance. They've been given chances not to be jerks to thousands of people. They need to just stop being jerks.

Efficiency

So, I'm taking my Bachelor's of Education and at the lecture our prof is talking about efficiency and how it was the biggest thing in the Industrial Revolution. It was so big, in fact, that the concept of efficiency flooded all aspects of life, including how teachers teach their students. Given this comparison, our class was outraged. How can people treat children as if they are machines to be made?

The simple fact is that we don't. The word "efficiency" has been demonized in our heads. We immediately understand "efficient" as being inhumane and wrong. I find it funny/sad how so many degree holding people can be so reactionary. They're probably all Slap Chop owners, too, not to mention the storage rooms full of Oxy Clean (even I felt Billy Mays had more authority than most professors).

O, what a glorious world we now live in now that we are enlightened! No longer are we subjects of the evil system of efficiency, nor must we suffer the anguish of mustard stains!

The problem is that efficiency is not a bad thing. It's a concept. Concepts are never entirely bad.
What about fascism? Hey, I'm all for democracy of sorts, but wouldn't you agree that being a fascist when it comes to something like flushing after you shit that fascism is a good thing? Shouldn't we all be shit-flush fascists? Say that five times fast.

Efficiency is no different. Yes, we should not treat children like brain jars that we need to pour knowledge into as quickly as possible. But that is assuming the formula for educational efficiency is curriculum covered/curriculum available, or even just proportional to the students' final grades (answers correct/total questions asked). No one seems to be capable of imagining the formula {[sum of the change of lifelong knowledge (learning)/number of children]/time}, or, to put another way, how much learning you can evoke in how little time.

Let me give you an example. Most people in my program take the concept of efficiency and disregard it as evil, suggesting instead "quality of quantity." Now, imagine yourself in a class of 30 students. A teacher could certainly take the time to teach each child in the classroom the lesson of the day in a unique style that would cater exactly to that student's learning style. Who can argue that this would not yield a greater quality of education? But, as anyone can plainly see, this strategy of teaching each individual child on their own is ___________.

If you said "stupid" I have to agree with you, but you're not quite there yet. If you said, "tha gr8est idea evar!!!1!!" I have to ask you to politely go fuck yourself (and yes, there are seriously people like that). If you said "inefficient" well then I guess I've made my point.

If you're still unclear about something I've covered in today's blog, please, come see me after class.

People I Hate Part 10

Hipsters.

I hate hipsters so much that it puts World War 2 into a whole new perspective. Just replace "Jew" with "Hipster" and I'm pretty much on board.




The real problem is, it's only going to get worse. We're losing the war here, cool 90's kids. Kids these days just don't understand that no amount of consumer whoring (and yes, when you only buy organic foods and fair trade coffee, you're still a consumer whore since a. those are niche markets that exist because hipsters are willing to pay through the nose for the social stigma and b. you still wear $300 of trendy brand name clothes) is going to make you an awesome person. You've gotta be awesome all on your own. That's what makes a timeless good dude.

My message to the kids today is this: The funkiest disco king is now your orthodontist.

Family Guy

So, I'm watching Family Guy the other day and I came to the conclusion that the show only contains one joke.
"Hey, you know when someone does something and the moment lasts for a short time?"
"Yeah."
"What if that happened for an unusually long period of time?"
"Ha ha ha!"
"- ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha-"
"Okay, Seth, I get it."
"- ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha-"
"No, really, shut the fuck up."
"-ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha-"
Wait for it.
"-ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-"
Keep waiting.
"-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh-"
You can see where I'm going with this.
"-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.... "


If you're laughing, punch yourself in the face right now for me.

Thank you.

That is the formula for the majority of the "comedy" air-time on that show. This includes those exchanges between characters where they both stutter and interrupt one another in an awkward denouement to a conversation. This interestingly parallels the show. The joke is analogous to the show itself. They take a concept that is amusing at first and extend it to a point where it is even funnier. Then they take it to a point where it is no longer funny. Then to a point where it is annoying. Then to a point where it is frustrating. Then to a point where it is - Look at me, I could write for the fucking show.

Think back to when your read the sample conversation I wrote earlier. You didn't read each one of those "ha's". You skimmed the first line, maybe, and the second line you got the fucking point. The third line you just assumed. It's the same as the joke. There is no punchline.

If comedy is like getting your ass kicked by comedy, Family Guy misses the mark. Comedy fights in many ways. British comedies fight like old-timey boxers; sometimes lots of quick and subtle jabs, definitely lots of footwork to set you up, and it both takes itself seriously and is just plain silly at the same time. Primetime comedies are like modern boxing matches; they hit harder, but don't set you up as well (it also can result in hugging). Most of your late-night comedies are like kick-boxing; a fast paced version for boxing that hits you where you don't see it coming. Your average sit-com is like a WWE wrestling match; the whole things is pre-planned, formulaic, and entirely staged. Family Guy is like being smothered with a greasy pig carcass.
But America loves it.

People I Hate Part 9

Askholes.

People who ask questions over and over. Why do they always come into my store?

"This bottle? Is it sweet?"
"Yes, it will be a bit sweeter?"
"It's sweet?"
"Yes."
"Sveit!?"
Yes, it's fucking sweet! Jesus H. On a related note, at what point do Eastern Europeans go from being a rather attractive people to people you can't fucking stand? Is there any transitional period, or do they just all of a sudden go from good-looking party-goers to arrogant old people? Maybe cool Eastern Europeans are a new breed and we just have to wait for all the jerks to die off before we get cool old Eastern Europeans.

In fact, I think old people in general are just irritating. Most askholes are old people.

"7.99?"
"7.99."
"It's 7.99?"
"7.99."
"Yes."
"How about this one?" picking up the the same label.
"It's also 7.99." pointing at the sign.
"They're both 7.99."
"Which one is better?"
"Well, it depends what kind you like."
"Okay."
Pause.
"7.99."
"Which one you drink?"
"The shiraz."
"Iz bettir?"
"Yes! Fuck!"
I don't actually say this, and in no way endorse shiraz over any other variety of wine, but that's pretty much how these conversations go. Also, yes, as my anger increases, this couple becomes more and more Eastern European.

A limited access to the internet

I would blog more if I could blog from anywhere. It seems like 140 characters is too short for a complex thought, but sometimes I have complex thoughts while I'm at work (sometimes). I think it feels weird to write a blog post on a piece of paper and then transcribe it to the internet later. It kind of loses the point of what most blogs are about: venting on the internet.

I don't think I'm alone on this, but I feel like the future isn't coming fast enough. There hasn't been a scientific development where our generation has been able to say "no fucking way!" Maybe we're spoilt, and when something comes up like a touch screen handheld media player that can access an entire world of information from satellites we only think "hey, neat" or "if I don't have that I will be unpopular." Sometimes, I'll admit, we can really sit down and be wowed by the world we live in, but for the most part, where the fuck is my reliable voice-to-text app that will let me remotely update my blog from my lunchtime musings? Or a printer that can withstand more than the movement of it's own printer head without breaking, for that matter.

Passive Aggression

It always is a strange thing, being passive aggressive. I know I do it myself from time to time, unfortunately not being fully aware of its folly. The problem with being passive aggressive lies in when you think you know something which you truly only suspect, regardless of how strongly you believe it. For example, one might offer their children cookies for a snack knowing full well that there are no cookies left, suspecting the children of pilfering the entire lot when, in fact, their spouse is the true culprit.

When we are passive aggressive in this manner we put our targets in an awkward position. The target can either believe that they are the cause of this aggression and seek to resolve the situation, which can often lead to horrendous embarrassment when they find that they are actually not the target at all; or they can believe that they are not the cause of this aggression, which only serves to further aggravate the aggressor; or finally, they could write an ironically passive aggressive blog post because they simply don't know.

In conclusion, if you have something to say to someone, say it. If you don't have something relevant to say, don't say it. And, if you're like me and don't know if you need to say something to someone or not because you're unsure if they didn't say something to you and left it for you to find or if they didn't not say anything to you because it wasn't meant for you in the first place and you found it and thought that they did... well then go ahead and drop a crumb.

People I Hate Part 7 Part 2

Neuroscientists.

Maybe I shouldn't hate them as much as I do. Neuroscientists are much like polio inoculations. They cause you pain and discomfort and put you out of commission for a few weeks while you feel like complete and utter shit, but in the end, well, you don't have polio.

So, as much as I hate you, neuroscientists (specifically from the University of Lethbridge), and as much as I never want to have anything to do with you ever again, I have to say "thank you." I'm feeling a lot better now.

People I Hate Part 8

Motherfuckers.

Sorry, I just needed to get that out there. The motherfuckers I'm talking about specifically today are petty thieves.

It's one thing when the natives come in and try to swipe a bottle of rye because they can't afford to pay for it because- nevermind. I'm not trying to pick on the natives here. Maybe it's racist, but when a trashy native comes in to steal from me, I expect it. It's a game. Hell, even when white bums come in to steal from me, I get it; they're homeless. When you don't have much in this world and you drift from fix to fix, I understand that it's hard to get out of that cycle. It's hard to clean up, sober up, and become a functioning member of society (again).

What really pisses me off is when motherfuckers come in to steal when they already have shit. When black kids come in with their hundred dollar jeans, designer oversized t-shirts, likely uncomfortable unbroken but most certainly overpriced hats tilted to a superfluous angle... when they come in and feel like they are entitled to take a bottle of raspberry Smirnoff (grow at least one testicle) it sends me into a self righteous rage. I used the black kids as an example that has happened to me in the past. But, again, I'm not trying to pick on the black kids. Half of them are on the level. A more recent account is when a disgusting middle aged white trash motherfucker came in yesterday and tried to steal a bottle of Captain Morgan's... that was on sale.

This motherfucker not only put the bottle down his pants (inside his underwear, no less.... what a fucking asshole) while on a camera that displayed on the sales floor, but also didn't do a very good job because I could see the fucking bottle through his shirt. The cherry on top? Motherfucker was talking on his cell phone.

Just who the fuck does he think he is?! You can afford that shit and it's on sale. What a motherfucker....

Dear Blog

I haven't been around much and I can explain. Holy shit balls, things are going well. I am employed, I have an amazing girl, I'm putting figurative miles between me and the past (even when the past came literally right to me). My friends are still awesome, the summer is going to be awesome, the next semester should be all right (Advanced Fiction Writing class, application only).

But a situation is only as good as its analogy, and for this one, I think I'm flying. Up and up and up. It's exhilarating, exciting, exuberant... I'm out of 'ex' words, but it's awesome. And even though I know everything has got to stall and come crashing down in a horrible flaming wreck of misery, I'm still excited.

I think the best way to explain it is not with my words, but with Freddy Mercury.

Geothermal Power

It occurred to me in the cold heights of my bathroom (where someone saw fit to leave the window open throughout a snowstorm) that geothermal power is a really, really, really, dumb idea.

"B-but it doesn't create any pollutants! It's natural! It's eco-friendly, man," one might retort.

Those are all good points. Except the last one. The last one is as short sighted as many eco-geeks are. I will now guide you through the reasoning why making ventures in geothermal power is a bad fucking idea.

1. The Earth was created well over 4 billion years ago. (Argue. I dare you.)
2. When the Earth was created, it was very rather warm.
3. The Earth today is rather cool in comparison, however the centre is still molten hot.
4. The molten hot centre is made of iron which, while moving, creates a magnetic field.
5. This magnetic field shields the Earth from many of the Sun's rays that are harmful to living things both directly and indirectly.
6. Recall the previous data: Earth was hot, but cooled. The centre of the Earth is hot. If we extrapolate this data we can predict that the centre of the Earth will cool.
7. Recall point 4. If the centre of the Earth cools, it stops being molten. If it stops being molten, it stops moving. If it stops moving, it stops creating a magnetic field.
8. Recall point 5. If there is no protective magnetic field around the Earth, then the harmful rays from the Sun will reach the surface.
9. This is the most important point. You and the majority of the living things you want to be eco-friendly towards live on the surface of the Earth.

So tell me, why exactly do we think it's a good idea to punch holes into the surface of the Earth and vent out all the heat? Because it's such a huge source of energy that we'll never use it all? Yeah, you said that about fossil fuels.

People I Hate Part 7

Neuroscientists!

FUCK!

People I Hate Part 6

People who think that something is the greatest thing ever every couple of months.

"Oh man, I want to play Warcraft so bad! Let's spend some money, move to a new server, join a guild, do some raids and generally be awesome! I'll make a schedule and we can play all the time and in no way will I ever bail for no good reason! I know I can afford it for reals this time!"

"Guys, we all have to buy Little Big Planet and make a new level every week and we'll all play together and be part of this big online community and people will love us and our levels will be awesome and we won't even have to hang out for reals because we have the internet!"

"The fixed Warcraft, so we all need to play again, and it'll be great and we can play all the old content again, but it'll be new, and we can make new characters and get into raids with our old characters and I promise I have time to play now and I'll save money by playing Warcraft instead of not playing and it's the greatest game ever and you know it and let's all play right now so I can find it boring, repetitive, expensive and broken again in a couple of months! C'mon, guys! Play, god damn it!"

People I Hate Part 5

People who say "Ciao!"

Go fuck yourselves.

You're not Italian, and you sure as shit don't actually speak fucking Italian, so get off your high horse, tone down the pomposity, and stop acting like you're so fucking worldly because you say goodbye the way the Italians do!

After a little wiki-research I have found that a number of cultures use a similar sounding word to say goodbye, but it still doesn't make you fucking worldly! Just because you've been somewhere doesn't mean you're suddenly a part of that culture. You're still a North American, and your still an asshole.

In fact, the part that makes you an asshole is that everybody fucking does it. "Ciao" is so prevalent in our society that some sources would say that the word has been adopted into the English language, and that pisses me off.

I'm not afraid to be proud and say that we have a culture! We have a great number and variety of ways to say goodbye! We say goodbye, later, see ya, so long, talk to you later, peace, catch you on the flip side, and an incredible variety of deviations within that small list (see "catch you on the flippy floppy"). Ciao is not our word.

And if you are going to steal a parting phrase from another language, then pick something original! If someone said "auf wiedersehen" before they hung up, I'd let it go. I might even find the novelty entertaining! But seriously, "Ciao" has about as much novelty as Nicholas Cage.

I fucking bet Nick Cage says "ciao."

People I Hate Part 4

(see People I Hate 1, 2, and 3)
People who can't wait 3 minutes for an IM response.

I'm fucking busy! Christ, it's not like I'm online just waiting to talk to you. I'm not just sitting idle hoping that someone out there will entertain me. I'm doing something! Don't ask me a fucking question and then take off because my response wasn't immediate.

And, yes, if I haven't responded in more than a half hour, I've forgotten about you! The conversation wasn't that engaging (because, like I have mentioned, I'm doing something else that is engaging), and/or I didn't get the notice that you said something new.

Race and Racism

Okay, I'm sick to fucking death of this. I found this picture on the internet and it's supposed to be hilarious.
Okay, seriously, guys. "There's no race but the human race" is fucking bullshit! Does no one else realize this? It's a system of description! When you use it to be prejudicial, it's racism, and that's bad. But when it's a fucking question on the census, it's just a question! If the census asked you what type of hair you had, you wouldn't say "I have hair! The only hair is hair! It doesn't matter what kind of hair we have, we're all equals!"

No one is denying that you're equal! They're just trying to describe you! And don't say that no one gets judged by their hair. We all know the stereotype that blondes have more fun, or that blondes are dumb, just as well as we know the stereotypes about black people being good at sports, or having an affinity for robbing liquor stores. But some people just have to get all uppity about describing someone as "black" but have no problem with calling someone "blonde". I know what you're thinking: we have the power to change our hair colour.

1. Hair dye doesn't change who you are,
2. Michael Jackson

And we all think that guy was messed up for trying to become white, not because he couldn't be white, but because he didn't need to be white. Therefore, race isn't a problem; it is, like I have said, a descriptor.

If you don't like the use of "race" to describe the colour of a person's skin or their ancestry, then fight the semantics. But I dare you to come up with a term as brief and succinct as "race" to describe what a person looks like and where they have descended from.

The Unblogged

The following post is a collection of posts that I didn't post, or simply gave up on before they got anywhere. I find it interesting what some of my old thoughts and feelings were, as well as entertaining to imagine my half thoughts.
If you hadn't picked up, the new notes will be brought to you by the colour RED.

1/20/10 Scientific Exhaustion
I was going to continue a discussion on my Facebook page,
BO-ring!

12/19/09 When Did It Happen?
I've stopped being honest.
I'm not sure, but I think this may have been about hiding (or trying to hide) my feelings for someone. Kinda like a Humphrey Bogart at the end of Casablanca kind of deal, only, you know, not as good.

10/25/09 (Untitled)
I fight such an odd war. I have nothing against my enemy, but I know that he hates me. He even seems like a decent enough guy. It's not political, I want to destroy him and it is most malicious. Maybe it's the testosterone, but I'm not usually a guy who feels the need to win. I can't tell you what it is. What I can tell you is that I like it. I love it. Even though I'm terrible at it.
I don't know about anyone else, but I fucking love being hated sometimes. In my old situation, being hated was the next best thing to being loved. Being a threat to someone is empowering.
But that is an underdog thing too. When you're at the top, you're not a threat to anyone. In an ironic sense, you lose that power.

10/20/09 My Ultimate Team
Skip this one if you want. It's exactly what it sounds like.
In response to TK's Ultimate Team blog, here is my Ultimate Alliance 2 Team:

Storm.
What can I say about the master of the elements? Her in game taunts are the most justified of anyone. She controls the weather itself. She defeated Magneto. She is through and through awesome. I'll admit that when I started I was wary of Storm, since in UA1 she refused to use her one good power of Lightning Blast. But in UA2, her Lightning Blast is unparallelled and her Gale Force is the first and best of its class. The ability to dismissively blast an oncoming troop of enemies off a ledge is nothing short of god-like. While the rest of my crew is busy hacking away at single targets, Storm is blasting small armies away and causing massive random lightning damage all over the field. Inescapable lightning damage, too. It cannot be blocked and it cannot be dodged.

Wolverine.
Begrudgingly. There is a reason this guy is such a cliche. He's a-goddamn-mazing. Massive damage, massive hit points, regeneration, and a good spread of attacks. Some characters I find have a tendency to have just one good move and the others are simply there for show. He spins, he charges, he dives, he slashes... things wind up dead. I have the damage numbers on and when Wolverine comes in contact with someone there is just a stream of numbers. I wanted to trade him in, and he was usually on the bench while I was trying other guys out, but when it comes to an Ultimate Team, you'd be crazy not to bring in this cat... dog... monster-thing. What the hell is a wolverine anyway?

Venom.
He didn't get added to the roster until late in the game, but jesus tits this guy is a monster. Like, literally. In every sense of the word. Here is a case of someone who was pretty much a one trick pony, with other skills to fill the skill points out. He has this move where he leaps at someone, tackles them, and then devours them. For the little guys, Venom is unstoppable! Combined with his Pull move, if the first attack doesn't kill the guy, the second surely will. A big sack of hit points that can beat people to death with other people. Venom has always been pretty awesome.

Other.
There are honestly too many people that could fit into this last spot. Spidey was fun, but not great at anything. Ms. Marvel was hot, but I don't know who the fuck she is. Gambit was classic, but he never wowed me. I honestly never tried Deadpool, but that guy comes off as a more obnoxious Spider-man. Luke Cage was on my team for a while for racial diversity. He was okay. Ironman was denied from my team, so when I got him back I thought he could go suck a dick. Jean Grey was wicked powerful, but awfully dainty. Honestly, I never became that attached to anyone. I got Hulk late, and he was doing well, but he didn't seem to be pulling his weight. I wanted him to devastate people.

Anyway, I'm going to play it a second time around on hard and go Pro-Regulation. Maybe Ironman will grow on me again, but I somehow doubt it.

10/15/09 Contending the Winter of Discontent
I'm trying to work out the logical cycle of the miserability scores of the winter. The last two years have been horrible cold, but
Did winter get better this year? Depends where you start and finish winter. This post was obviously in mid-October and winter didn't technically start for another two months. If it's based on the weather, then winter was over by the beginning of March, and even then things started looking up. But maybe that's just the thing: cold = suck.

5/25/09 Recess
So I was at a party the other night to substantially increase the man count of the evening. Little did I know I was to increase the man count by an infinite percentage. First, let me drop some knowledge on you. Being the only guy in a group full of girls is only beneficial when these girls are deprived and competing over, or better yet, considering sharing you. However, even if you arrived before many of the women, you are on the outside
Ha ha! I can't even tell you where I was for this, but I'm sure it was entertaining! I have a feeling I was in Lethbridge.

4/4/09 My goals
#1 Outlive Thom.
#2 Failing Goal 1, outlive wife so I don't have to tell people
What don't I have to tell people? I don't know. I'm too busy laughing at goal #1!

4/3/09 Secrecy
I find it funny that despite all the honest feelings we can express to each other there is always a level we feel the need to hide. There are always things we don't want to say because we're worried what the other person will think. Worse, sometimes we worry what the other person will do. More often than not, I think we're wrong. I think people are a lot more calm and reasonable than we give them credit for.

But despite all that logic, I still can't bring myself to explain the truth. I don't even know how to say it. I can make a lot of fuss about things that don't really matter, but when it comes to the important things... I don't know how to say them. I tried to once and it blew up in my face. I suppose wildly bitching to the internet hasn't been productive either.
Seriously. But I still do it. What's the deal with that?

I suppose what I need to say is that I'm sorry. My feelings were misdirected and my action was out of line. I know this is an open place, and that doesn't bother me. But if I'm going to be open, I need to be open.
So, here it goes.

Dear Blog,
I've fallen in love.
At least to the point that I understood love a year ago. And the irony kills me that a year ago I could only understand that level of love and it might have happened, and now I can see the infinite ocean of emotion that I hadn't yet reached. But at this ledge I am stopped. I am unable to explore. And maybe that's for the best. Maybe if I were to explore, I would soon run out of air (or maybe vice versa) and would have to resurface. Getting dumped out of the ocean is one thing, but the bends is another. Maybe diving in and exploring this is a bad idea. But I see something in the depths. I feel it. How can I ignore it? How can I stay here and never go? I could go to the reef. Reefs are safe; stable. But how can I ever forget those endless depths of the unknown? Even if I had to come back, why couldn't I try? Why couldn't we try?
This right here is why I never posted this. What the fuck am I talking about? That metaphor is constructed worse than slip n' slide built with bristle blocks. It is literally painful to read.

Blog, I'll cut the metaphor for a minute here. Thank God. I want to try this out. Even if it's built to break, even though there are so many signs that say we shouldn't, even though I've done so much to damage it... I want to try. And if I experience a whole new level of heartache, then I have experienced a whole new level of love. I know all the pain I've been through, and I remember it all as I bring those memories back. And all of that heartache, all of those tears and all that regret combined is worth a shot at this.
Wisdom, if I do say so myself.
...

If I'm being honest with you, I wonder now if I've placed her on a pedestal. I've ignored anything with her picture because she is too fucking beautiful. I sometimes think I might be the only one that really sees that. I mean really sees it. I can't even describe the feeling. It's like I want to... absorb her. I don't know, that's really all I can think of. Like I want to hold her so close that we occupy the same space to a scientifically impossible degree, as if our images overlapped. Is it all in my head, or is it all in my heart? I don't know. I wish I knew. I wish I didn't regret running away as much as I have. I wish the conviction I felt once hadn't been so terribly battered. I'm breaking down.

I don't know if I'm making sense. I don't know about you, but I'm following along. I guess I wrote it, though. I'm starting to get the bed ("bad". Though I imagine I was having bed feelings at this point too) feeling that this whole post is a mistake. But I'm going to push through it because I think there has been a lack of communication. And yes, I should say a lot of ("to") this in person. But, like I said, I'm scared. So much for pushing through and communicating. A coward to the end, I suppose.

...I'm trying to be interested in other people. It's a hard thing to say and I don't know why. I guess it goes back to worrying what people will do; how they'll react. I think a lot of the time, I promise feelings that I can't deliver in circumstantial situations. "We'll always be friends" is the biggest one, I think. It's not that the prospect of being together was the only thing holding us together, but sometimes things change and there is no overlooking it. I can't dissolve my feelings. I need to escape and dispose of them. I've got to get away. But it's so hard when I want to stay. Fuck you, old me! I'm doing it.

I didn't really get to say everything I wanted, but my head is killing me.

This is why it's good not only to keep a record of what you think, feel, and do, but also to go back and read it once in a while. If you take anything from this whole thing, take this piece of advice: go back and look it all over. Revisit your thoughts. The insight you gain about yourself is incredible. Everything changes when you take a trip back to visit who you were. I've been known to say it before, but I don't like me 5 years ago. 5 years from now Alex won't like Today Alex, even though Today Alex is fuckin' awesome. I'm sure even 6-months-from-now- Alex won't really be fond of Today Alex, but what can you do?
Learn.

3/13/09 Post it
(I'm trying this quick summary thing. Read this; get the jist. Read on for more info. I don't know whether this girl likes me back or not.) Semi- spoiler! I don't know who I'm talking about yet, but I bet she doesn't!

I have a note on the side of my computer that reads "Keep it to your goddamn self!"
I don't know why she troubles me the way that she does. It has got to be in my head. So, here I write to the abyss of the internet. Remember you're reading my blog. I'm not complaining to you. Aha! A loophole! Stuff it, Thom!

Is it bad that I can't tell if I'm the hero or the villain in my own story? I suppose good or bad is the same as right and wrong; good and evil. These are the things I cannot determine. Am I the heart of the righteous stuck in the body of the wicked, or the malevolent soul presented in a body of innocence? I want to do good, but am I the good that resists the temptation of evil, or am I the evil that seeks redemption? Is my destiny to be all the good which I wish to be, or is it to lay ruin to the supposed goodness I have created?
I really write like this sometimes, not a word of a lie. I just normally don't show anyone. There's a fucking reason for that. These longwinded posts are embarrassing bullshit!

Let me explain. I pride myself in goodness. I am fulfilled by doing what I think to be right, even if it is not the easiest route. But there has been a record so far of 100% violation of supposition among past lovers. Whether this be violation of ideas of fidelity, temperament, deceit, opportunism, or abandonment, there is always an aspect that appears in a relationship, or post relationship, that serves no purpose greater than destruction. Simply put, I hurt the ones I have loved and cared for.

Enter the girl. Yes, the girl. I would be remiss in believing that this girl is the end-all be-all of womankind purely by nature of her virtues - there are many thing that are simply incongruent among us - but somehow she attains the position in my mind of the girl ("the" should be in italics). And perhaps is something that I will talk about later. But for now, I ponder, does not the woman that corrupts man cancel the man that corrupts love?

Perhaps it is the man that corrupts woman? Very well. To an extent, I am that man. Should not then we two form a unison of which none more is perfect? I fear not.

I apologize. In my state I confuse eloquence with verbiage. Yeah, no shit, you pretentious wanker! What the fuck are you trying to say. Jesus Christ, this is the worst thing ever...

Why aren't things working? Why aren't we together? We want what we cannot have. Perhaps, by making up my mind on the course of action to take, I am no longer available. Perhaps I project this emotion more than I am aware. I know in my mind that it is impossible, and purely by virtue of impossibility is it something which I desire? Do I want what I cannot have because I have concluded that I cannot have it? Perhaps, though I did want it before I reached such conclusion. Is she so observant, though, that she perceives my decision and thus has become attracted to that which I have decided she cannot have? Perhaps. Now, supposing that both of these are true, am I not free to retract my previous conclusion and thus formally admit that my conclusion was invalid and that we two must be together?
I think I was in a philosophy class at the time, and they all write like this. Maybe I could make sense of it then, but I sure can't pull it apart now. Maybe philosophers need to stop being philosophers for a few months before they review their own work. It's like living in France for a few months and coming back to America and ordering jus d'orange. It's orange juice, motherfucker, and you're not cultured, you're a fucking idiot.

Yeah, it confuses me sometimes too. Here it is: if I gave up and the girl now likes me because I am unavailable, can I really just say, "hey, I'm all yours!" and things will work out dandy because she likes me? See? That's concise. I get that. I know what I'm talking about here.

They won't. She won't. The feelings are contingent. There is only one course to take.

I really should keep it to myself.
Okay, I was wrong. The girl may have liked me at the time. Although, that was a full year ago! That's incredible. Maybe I was right then. Maybe she didn't like me a year ago. A year is a longer time than I give it credit. It doesn't feel that long looking back, but it really is a long time. I could go on about "what ifs" and muse about the possibilities of what could have been, but that'd end up sounding like all the garbage I wrote a year ago! So here is my conclusion: I made my choices.


These next ones are over a year old, but they were in my "draft" folder, so what the hell!
1/28/09 Proof that Women are greater than Men
A lot of people on both sides of the gender spectrum (oh, it totally is a spectrum) believe that men are better than women. But I have proof that this is not the case.

All women carry our future sons their entire lives.
All men are born of women.
It takes the defiance of many men for a boy to become a man, yet only the love of a single woman.
Through hail of bullets and rain of bombs, between polished swords and sharpened spears, under thrown rocks and over the pitched fires of men a man can resist, but the absence of a woman can leave a man destroyed.
Oh how poetical... shit. To put it another way: women are man's only weakness.

1/23/09 Inequality
Men an women are different. I don't care what you say, but they are. There is a reason why boys like practical academics and girls like visual aesthetics (not that one does not grow to appreciate the other).

Men were made by scientists and women were made by artists.

This is where I wrote a little play about the creation of man and woman.
Genitus: Hurry up, everybody! The deadline's here and God needs these last bits!

Enter Penus.

Genitus: Ah! Penus. What do you have for us?

Penus: Check this out.

Penus whips out the first wang.

Penus: I call it The Penus!

Genitus: Wow, that's... something.

Penus: No, check this out!

The Penus erects.

Penus: Eh? Eh?! Totally involuntary! No bones or nothing.

Genitus: Ha! That is totally awesome! God's gonna be stoked!

Penus: I know, eh?

Penus plays with his newest invention.

Genitus: "The Penis," right?

Genitus scribbles on his clipboard.

Genitus: ...N, I, S.

Penus looks up from the willie.

Penus: Hmm?

Genitus: So, how does it work.

Penus: That's the best part. I was working with Testiclulus on this one. It shoots stuff. Testucles

Enter Testucles, slightly out of breath.

Testucles: Sorry, boss. Here it is.

Testucles holds up a pair of testicles.

Genitus: I don't follow.

Testucles: They're like mini factories. They make these little tiny cells with tails that can swim.

Genitus: Can I see?

Testucles: Just be careful. They're a little delicate.

Genitus: How delicate?

Testucles: Well, it's a complicated system. They're really sensitive and need to be kept at about 33 degrees.

Genitus checks his clipboard.

Genitus: Not 37 degrees?

Testucles: No.

Genitus: So what the hell are we going to do about that?

Testucles: I got it all planned out. We keep 'em in a bag.

Genitus: In a bag?! They're going to lose them!

Testucles: No, like a skin bag.

Genitus: A skin bag? Testucles, we can't afford that much material.

Enter Scrotus hurriedly.

Scrotus: Master! Master! I found something!

Scrotus hands Testucles fistfulls of skin.

Scrotus: They're elbow skin that God was just throwing away!

Testucles: That explains all the hair.

Penus hits Testucles with The Penus.

Penus: I thought we agreed on no hair!

Testucles: I'm sorry! Look, it's the best we can do.

Genitus: I'll let you sort that out for a minute while I check the design for Woman.

Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus huddle together.

Enter Vagino and Ovariam.

Genitus: Vagino! Ovarium! What do you have for us?

Vagino: Genitus, I say with no ego that this is our greatest creation. It's hidden, protected, sleek, soft, runs like clockwork, never needs replacing.

Genitus: Impressive! How does it work?

Ovariam: So, I've got these two little balls-

Genitus slaps his face into his palm.

Genitus: Calibrated to 33 degrees?

Ovariam: No. 37. Who calibrated to 33?

Genitus looks over his shouler at Penus, Testucles, and Scrotum.

Testucles: -no, no, you've got to pin it here!

Genitus turns back to Vagino and Ovariam.

Genitus: Doesn't matter.

Vagino looks over.

Vagino: What are they doing?

Genitus: Please, continue.

Ovariam: Right. So I have these balls. We can call the ovaries to avoid confusion. Anyway, so they are filled with, like, thousands and thousands of eggs-

Genitus: And the woman simply releases an egg when she wants to bear a child! Brilliant!

Pause.

Ovariam: We were thinking more of a timed release.

Genitus: So, they just sort of leak eggs from time to time?

Awkward pause.

Ovariam: You could say that.

Genitus: What happens?

Ovariam: Well, it's more than just an egg. But don't worry. We've devised a hormonal mechanism to keep it hidden.

Genitus: All right, I'll trust you know what you're doing. So, the egg comes out and then the man shoots Testucles' swimming cells onto it and it makes a baby, right?

Ovariam: Well, no. The baby has to grow inside here in this big chamber.

Genitus stares.

Genitus: And then...

Ovariam: Then you have a baby.

Genitus: How does the baby get out?

Ovariam and Vagino exchange looks.

Vagino: Ohhhhh no. No no no no no. No way. This is a masterpiece!

Ovariam (lowered voice): Vag, you're making me look bad.

Vagino: Ovariam, you make yourself look bad. We're not cramming a baby through my Vagina.

Ovariam: It's too late to change everything. C'mon, Vagino. It's the only way!

Vagino (sighs): Fine.

Genitus: Great! I've got to write up a report for God right now. Feel free to share your project with the other.

Genitus exits.

The huddled group of Penus, Testucles, and Scrotus opens up to reveal their package.

Penus: Ta-dah!

Vagino: eugh.


Next week: Gentius tries to explain to God how these parts are used to make new people.

I'm not thrilled with Ovariam and Vagino. They're not quite as entertaining as the stooges that are Penus, Testucles and Scrotus. Also, I'm more of an expert on the poor design of male genitalia than I am with regards to how women feel about their genitals. I don't know if anyone else finds it as funny as I do, but come on, a man's junk is the most poorly designed part of nature on a whole.



Hooray! You either read everything or scrolled to the bottom and said "Fuck that!"
Either way, thanks for getting to this point!

Big Brother Needs To Get To Work

I'm sick of this shit, guys. People can trace my IP, copy my debit card, and find my name, address, and phone number all without any trouble. The police have me on record for my heinous exiting my old high school after lunch break. The system has a credit history on me a mile long (that's the system, not just the bank). I have folders in different medical facilities that contain my medical history and information. But despite all this, Alberta Education doesn't have my grades.

I've got an Alberta Education number! I've taken my tests and I was assured that they were taken to our provincial capital for review. I attended a university inside the province. On top of that, I sent all of my information to Mount Royal the first time I applied! So here is my question:
Why is it so goddamn hard for post-secondary institutions to just look up all my information their goddamn selves?

My argument can be broken down into three simple arguments:

1. My information exists somewhere. Just link it all to my Alberta Education number. I can get all my transcripts sent anywhere I want from that anyway (it just costs me money)
2. Everyone else has me on file in some way. Safeway keeps track of how many bags of corn chips I eat per week, and the government can't keep track of sum of my educational achievement expressed simply as single page of grades?
3. a) How can an accredited institution such as MRU or UofC not be trusted with access to view my grades, and b) even if they can't be trusted, what malicious acts could they commit with knowing numbers of things that I did once? What? Are they going to feloniously report my aptitude?
4. (Bonus argument) They don't even accept a transcript that I give them! They need to get the information directly from my previous post-secondary institution- correction: They need to get me to get them the information directly from my previous post-secondary institution.

In conclusion, I'm sick of educational institutions that clearly recognize each other who refuse to communicate with each other independently. It's as if they make all the hoop jumping mandatory to prove that you're devoted to going to school. As if the application fees aren't enough to prove we're serious, we've also done post-secondary before and aren't shitheads fresh out of high school, but we're still harassed the most.

Thanks for making my continued education easier, Alberta. I'll be sure to try to find work in BC.

Twitter is to the Blogosphere as Video is to the Radio Star

What the hell, guys? What happened to the art of the blog? A fleeting thought could have less than 140 characters, but what ever happened to the more complex ideas? Don't we have anything more important to say? Hell, importance isn't even the issue; it's the depth. What ever happened to our thoughts and ideas and stories about our lives? Have we all become that boring?

Now don't get me wrong, I've been twittering as much as the next guy, and I don't hold myself above the lack of blog that I talk about. I know I've come up short on the blog front as of late, but we all know the circumstances. Responsibility will cool off in the summer as things start to warm up. The weather will change, we'll be outside, and we'll have time to relax and time to think and time to blog (with the exception of all the time we will spend hanging out).

In short, blog or hang out. Excuses will be validated on a per case basis.

Same Old Story

How do I always write stories the same way?!

Earlier today, Zack bet that I could write a story about trees better than most people could write anything about anything. I took that challenge and, with the foothold of assuming the trees hated each other, started to learn about trees on Wikipedia. I wrote the story as it came to me and what ends up happening? Two trees hate each other and one of them is in love with the tree across the street.

God damn it!

Can I just for once write a story that isn't about love? I swear, I'm stuck in Hollywood 1945; you can't write a good story without a love interest!

Thinking Room

When it comes to thinking, I do the most when I'm in the bathroom. But tonight I was in bed trying to sleep and I got some pretty crazy thoughts.

In descending order order of occurrence:

1) Fine! I'll sign up for twitter.

2) "Up where they walk, up where they run, up where they play all day in the suuuuuun!" Fuck, I need to watch the Little Mermaid.

3) When we talk about the speed of light and that nothing can go faster than it, we fail to consider what the speed of light really is. We often think about it as about 300 million meters per second. We say "about" because we think that we don't know what the exact number really is because light moves to fast. But consider this:
We know that light cannot escape the Schwartzchild radius of a black hole. At this point, gravity is greater than all things, one of which being the momentum of light. Light must necessarily have a mass and therefore momentum (or analogous properties) if it is to be affected by gravitational force. To put plainly, light is slowed down to the point that it cannot escape a sufficiently dense mass.
We also know that light is bent by the gravitational force of all massive objects, notably stars. When an object's trajectory is changed it undergoes an acceleration. Acceleration is a vector. For example, when you jump up and down, your velocity is altered by the constant acceleration downward. For every moment in time, you can calculate your new instantaneous velocity by combining your last velocity and your acceleration. There is a point where your speed decreases so much that you stop. Like light at the Schwartzchild radius, you cannot escape the gravity of the Earth.

Now, we can conceptualize what happens when an object like a person slows down. A car travelling at 50km/h decelerates (or negatively accelerates) to 20km/h. We can imagine a car that was travelling fast, is travelling slower, and even a car that is stationary due to an acceleration causing it to have a velocity of zero.

Here is my main point: What the fuck does slow light look like? We imagine things like light turning into longer waves, like radio waves, when they are subject to a black hole. If gravity changes only the frequency of light, then how does it also alter its velocity in the case of gravitational lensing (where light bends around massive objects)?


Shit like that just blows my mind, man. I'm sure someone has it all figured out, but it still keeps me up at night.

Shoulda Woulda Coulda

I'm tired of people ragging on Canada and the Olympic organizers for everything that goes wrong. "Their opening ceremony hydraulics didn't work and that one arm didn't go up!" Guess what? It's fucking Canada. It's cold. Things break. It worked a hundred times before when they were testing it, but on that night it didn't work. Grow up and move on.

"They should have moved the pillars!"
"They should have put in a wall!"
"They shouldn't make the luge track so fast!"
"They shouldn't even have pillars!"
"They should just make a track that you can't get hurt on!"

Shut the fuck up. Seriously. An athlete died. You don't know him. You never even knew his fucking name before he died. Hell you, wouldn't know his name if he hadn't died. He could have won the Gold Medal and you wouldn't remember his name two weeks after the event. It's hard, but that's the fucking truth.

I'm not saying it isn't sad; it is sad. I'm saying that all these people are picking their battles and they're picking the wrong ones. People die in accidents all the time. People die in war even more. And still even more people die from preventable diseases when they have no access to treatment. So who is the bad guy? The Vancouver Olympic construction and engineering team for their malicious use of pillars, or you for not giving a shit about thousands of lives you could save if you bought your purse at Sears instead of Loius Vuitton and donated the difference to a worthy cause.

Self-righteous? You betcha. But I'm not the one pointing the finger of blame when it comes to an accident.

Yes, it's sad that he died. If it had been some kid who thought he was the shit and died sledding down a hill and hit a lightpost, we would laugh and say that he got what was coming to him. The difference is that we told him to do it. We dared him. We egged him on. Maybe we're the ones responsible for his death and that's such a bitter pill to swallow that we keep looking for someone to blame.

Thought Experiment

Okay, readers, I'm drunk as balls.

Why? Well, I have to pick my long lost buddy up in six and a hlaf hours, so I though the liquor would calm me down enough to sleep. Jagermeister just gets me excited. Jag and 80's music.

There was a point to writing this blog. Something about people at work...
Right! I miss the deaf guy! There was a deaf guy who used to come into the grocery store and I really miss him. I miss the non-verbal communication. I miss being able to talk to someone without having to talk. Fuck, man, he was awesome. But everyday at work it seems like I say words that no one hears. "Your total is $195.85. Debit? Stripe side out." And then they still put the fucking stripe in.

Fuckin' Deaf Guy and and I used to be way cooler. You know, we'd just see each other and nod like we knew what the shit was going down. None of the service industry bullshit. We both knew the score. He was buying food, I was selling it. Why put on a show? He and I could nod acknowledgment, point out pricing, and motion to one another what we needed.



We were always glad to see one another. It's like we were company. We got to know each other on a semi professional level. Not just a sales clerk to a patron and not quite a friend to a friend, but... kinda like people who waited at the same bus stop.


Shit, man, I don't know. I'm drunk as fuck and I don't know what I'm writing about.
I like those knowing smiles. I like knowing about someone. I like that idea of a special bond. Maybe I'm losing that, maybe I'm finding that, maybe it's just over the horizon.

Let me say for now that I will try to clarify tomorrow when I sober up. For now it is time to sleep. Fuckin' finally.

Capacity

I wonder if people have a certain capacity for life, or if life only has a certain capacity for people.

It seems like life moves on and people come and go. When someone comes in, someone is pushed out. When someone is pushed out, we bring in someone new. So I wonder if that is the way the world works, like the way the world is brought to an equilibrium on all things, or if we just don't make the effort.

You all know me. I let the world do what the world is going to do. I try to live on the surface rather than change the way things happen (even though I have, as the very name of my blog suggests, numerous problems with the world). So I wonder if the fluctuation of people within lives is due to my action/inaction, or whether it is due wholly to the ways of the world.

Here's an example: I broke up with my girlfriend a long while back (yeah, she dumped me, whatever) and I chose not to talk to her. I chose inaction. We since have spoken very few words to one another. I have better relationships with some people who I don't know the names of. On the other hand, I know a couple who broke up and tried to stay friends. As far as I can tell this resulted in some hurtful exchanges and now they are, again, as far as I know, not speaking. It seems that the course can be altered, but not the destination.

This makes me wonder if we have any control over the people who come and go out of our lives. Do we have any more control over that than we do over the flow of time?

Maybe not, but I should give some old friends a call.

Wisdom

It seems not so long ago that the world was the other way around in my circle of friends. Not all of it is good for my friends, but in this post I will focus on the good. This has to do with my buddy TK. Where once I had a stable relationship, promising future, and wisdom beyond my years, these qualities now belong to him, but with credentials this time.

He's actually in a positive, functional relationship. He has actually started his career. He actually knows what the fuck he's talking about.

I found myself tempted to embark on a fool's errand, lured toward the rocks by the sweet song of a smoking hot babe. Not only did TK point out to me the nature of the beast, but the evidence was already right under my nose.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this: Thanks, TK, for looking out for me. I need it.

Never Like Anyone

This is how misogynistic men are born. Never like anyone because they'll just as soon turn their back on you as look at you. That's right, one minute they're ready to leap into be with you and the next minute they wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. Maybe it's their "whimsical gender," or maybe it's all part of a grand scheme.
I, for one, am fucking sick of it, and I think I'm becoming something that I once hated. But that's the way life goes sometimes. Things change, people change, times change, and before you know it, you change too.

What an asshole.

It's hard to see, but the grey strip on the left is the gutter and the grey strip on the right is the sidewalk.

Checkpoint

It's been a couple of months, but I have come to a checkmark that makes me feel kind of good.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Jesus Christ, what does that kid eat?!"

My answer to that is "None of that shit!" I personally am amazed that I have avoided that much fat in a few short months. It's been a little under three months and I have avoided placing almost 3/4 of a litre of fat in my body. That's about a pound and a half.

That's actually a little misleading, isn't it. A pound and a half doesn't sound like that much, but when I think about trying to hide that jar under my shirt, I get grossed out. Imagine that inside my body! Fuck that, man.

If you think the idea of keeping a fat jar is gross, imagine two things. One: imagine that you didn't pour that out of your food, and you ate it instead. Or, Two: imagine that sitting in your drain pipe. You can't pour that shit down the sink! It's oil! It will not wash away! I only make such a fuss out of this because I've met people who ask me what the fuck I'm doing when I collect grease in a jar or a can or a disposable cup. Some people are just plain stupid.

I had a dream...

Last night was all sorts of crazy. It was about death, in three parts.

Part 1
I'm on the river rafting with my first girlfriend. I didn't really want to be there, but it seemed like such a great day for rafting that I might as well enjoy it. We rafted down the wide, winding river lazily; we soaked in the sun and the sights. But before we knew it, the river picked up speed and we started to collide with other deserted rafts. I should mention that when I say "raft" I don't mean an inflatable dingy, but a traditional planks-and-logs kind of thing. I was sure I could navigate us through, but my ex was worried and sceptical. What's really strange is that we came out to a labyrinth of aqueducts and waterways. The raft became a hover-raft (don't ask 'cause I don't know) and I simply flew over the whole system toward the lake on the other side. My ex insists that we're skipping over the best part, so I land it in the waterways. Turns out they're part of the zoo/amusement part and are those water-type rollercoasters. Our raft gets picked up on the unreasonably fast conveyor and brings us up to the top. We whip around a corner and are plummeted down towards the waterways again. I'll admit, while there was an element of fun, there was also the absolute terror in the fact that we were not attached. The raft was not designed for this track. We were taken up another ramp, but we hadn't lost much momentum. We round the corner at the top and, with nothing to hold onto, I am cast off the edge. From a wide angle shot from the shore I see my body fall seventy feet towards the water with speed and grace like I fell out of the back of a pickup truck. Just before contact, I wake up.

Part 2
I went back to sleep A) to see if I could resume and save myself (with the brilliant plan of pulling myself into a dive and cutting through the water like a dolphin in a show. I did not. The ending was cut from when I last woke up. But soon after, I start a new story.
It's me and the love of my life. It's the holidays and her parents (who are actually another girl's parents, I just know and like them better) are having their friends over constantly. I suggest to the girl that we get away from it all and hide away in my treehouse, which is literally a modern cabin built in a tree. Before I know it, there are two men at the door (of my treehouse). The girl opens the door. They don't say a word. They shoot her and walk quickly through the house. I duck out a side door and and call the secret service (again, don't ask. I just know them, I guess). I scream and panic and threaten the men.

Part 3
My sister's boyfriend (the love of her life) who lives across the street from the treehouse came to investigate. He opens the door and before he gets a chance to even speak, the men kill him too. I could try and stop them, but I've already died in my dreams once today. I would barely step in the room before I was shot dead too. Though, given the rest of the dream, it may have been better to have died.

Epilogue
I return to the parents' house. It all happened a minute ago to me, and is years ago for them. The same holiday party. The same people. The livelihood is superficial, but they're trying. I remember a line to a song:
"Love of mine, someday you will die, but I'll be close behind to follow you into the dark."
I've almost got myself convinced to kill myself, but I knew she wouldn't want that. If she was waiting there for me, she'd wait for me until my time came. But she wasn't waiting. There was no sense dying. No real sense in living other than you can't change your mind about it later. So there I was, the world around my moving while my life had ground to a stop under the burden of a lost love and the guilt of the loss of another's love. I don't know what I could have done to stop him from being killed, but I feel like I could have done something.

-

I'm on that old raft again, drifting down the river. The world lacks even the indication of colour. I look at the shore and there is her mother driving her car on the road along the bank. She looks at me and I stare at her. She's drained, somewhat emptied, but hopeful at the same time. She is who the girl would have been. She is who the girl will never be. She is the woman I will never know.

Tactics

Do you flirt with the cute girl who works at the video game store, or do you act aloof?

2010

It's the new year and I'm fairly drunk, so I'll keep this short.

... I wrote this a few times over and it never came out right. So you know what they say: always go out with a song.