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.