Thursday, October 17, 2002
escapism
Sometimes I just want to take off and go somewhere far away where no one knew my name. If strangers asked I could tell them, "My name is Sven Chang. I'm from Sweden and my only goal in life is to save all the starving children in the world." I'd backpack from city to city ironing people's clothes for money to eat. Somewhere along the way I'd meet a lonely princess who was attracted to my hobo image and she'd treat me to a buffet in her castle and propose to me. I'd disappoint and tell her I have a hobo girlfriend back in North America waiting for me. She would sob gently but she would understand that love isn't always reciprocated. That she couldn't make me love her but she was happy just to experience that one moment of love she had for someone else. I would tell her, "You'll find someone much better than me one day. Just you wait and see!". She would reply, "You are such a noble hobo. I want to one day meet someone just like you. Take this royal crest and if one day that girl ever breaks your heart, promise me you'll come back and be my prince." I blush and thank her for her hospitality. I leave her castle and promptly sell the royal crest for enough money to feed me for another few weeks. After all, we all know love makes no promises. She'll probably meet someone who'd make her happier down the road anyways.
I'd venture for another several years before returning to North America. To find that my friends have forgotten me, my family has turned my room into a karaoke entertainment room, and my girlfriend had left North America searching for me. I'd resocialize myself to the ways of my country and wait patiently the return of my girlfriend. If the day came around when she did return and she still needed me in her life, we could share our wonderful experiences apart from each other. By that time maybe we'd be ready to accept our sad fate in this mundane society. Or maybe we wouldn't and we'd venture off again. Far away. This time together. Possibly forever.
Sometimes I just want to take off and go somewhere far away where no one knew my name. If strangers asked I could tell them, "My name is Sven Chang. I'm from Sweden and my only goal in life is to save all the starving children in the world." I'd backpack from city to city ironing people's clothes for money to eat. Somewhere along the way I'd meet a lonely princess who was attracted to my hobo image and she'd treat me to a buffet in her castle and propose to me. I'd disappoint and tell her I have a hobo girlfriend back in North America waiting for me. She would sob gently but she would understand that love isn't always reciprocated. That she couldn't make me love her but she was happy just to experience that one moment of love she had for someone else. I would tell her, "You'll find someone much better than me one day. Just you wait and see!". She would reply, "You are such a noble hobo. I want to one day meet someone just like you. Take this royal crest and if one day that girl ever breaks your heart, promise me you'll come back and be my prince." I blush and thank her for her hospitality. I leave her castle and promptly sell the royal crest for enough money to feed me for another few weeks. After all, we all know love makes no promises. She'll probably meet someone who'd make her happier down the road anyways.
I'd venture for another several years before returning to North America. To find that my friends have forgotten me, my family has turned my room into a karaoke entertainment room, and my girlfriend had left North America searching for me. I'd resocialize myself to the ways of my country and wait patiently the return of my girlfriend. If the day came around when she did return and she still needed me in her life, we could share our wonderful experiences apart from each other. By that time maybe we'd be ready to accept our sad fate in this mundane society. Or maybe we wouldn't and we'd venture off again. Far away. This time together. Possibly forever.
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
A Few Late Night Random Thoughts
Did you know that they can graft pig testicles to the back of a mouse and have it grow to produce sperm? Tell me you're not impressed. I dare you. Just think of the possibilities! If they could graft a penis to my back, I could possibly fulfill my dream of being the meat between a Jessica Alba/Shannyn Sossamon sex sandwich. I could also invent the piggy-back sex position! However, is all this worth having another man's penis touching your back? I'll have to rethink this and get back to you.
I'm listening to "Ready To Go" by Republica. This song makes me want to run down the streets screaming at the top of my lungs (as manly as possible).
Sometimes I seriously want to just pack one of those hobo bags (the one with a pouch attached to a stick) and leave my life without a word to anyone. I sometimes think I'm not appreciated enough and it would serve those bastards right if I just got up and left. Quite selfish, I know. Everyone indulges in escapism in one form or another.
There is no such thing as a relationship where both people love each other equally. I hope someone proves me wrong.
I'm going to donate the dozens of toys I've gotten from ex-girlfriends to some charity this winter. I think it'd be nice to pass on years of torturous memories to little kids this upcoming christmas. Maybe I'll attach little notes to each toy à la Chinese fortune cookies, to educate the boys and girls about relationships. Notes like; "never date a girl who weighs more than you do" or "avoid girls who have 5 older brothers" and "if you're going to tell a girl you love her to get her in bed, don't tell her you lied afterwards". It's time I started giving back to my community.
Did you know that they can graft pig testicles to the back of a mouse and have it grow to produce sperm? Tell me you're not impressed. I dare you. Just think of the possibilities! If they could graft a penis to my back, I could possibly fulfill my dream of being the meat between a Jessica Alba/Shannyn Sossamon sex sandwich. I could also invent the piggy-back sex position! However, is all this worth having another man's penis touching your back? I'll have to rethink this and get back to you.
I'm listening to "Ready To Go" by Republica. This song makes me want to run down the streets screaming at the top of my lungs (as manly as possible).
Sometimes I seriously want to just pack one of those hobo bags (the one with a pouch attached to a stick) and leave my life without a word to anyone. I sometimes think I'm not appreciated enough and it would serve those bastards right if I just got up and left. Quite selfish, I know. Everyone indulges in escapism in one form or another.
There is no such thing as a relationship where both people love each other equally. I hope someone proves me wrong.
I'm going to donate the dozens of toys I've gotten from ex-girlfriends to some charity this winter. I think it'd be nice to pass on years of torturous memories to little kids this upcoming christmas. Maybe I'll attach little notes to each toy à la Chinese fortune cookies, to educate the boys and girls about relationships. Notes like; "never date a girl who weighs more than you do" or "avoid girls who have 5 older brothers" and "if you're going to tell a girl you love her to get her in bed, don't tell her you lied afterwards". It's time I started giving back to my community.
Friday, October 11, 2002
* * * WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD? * * *
GEORGE W. BUSH: I don't think I should have to answer that question. But I will. He is an evil-doer with evil intentions. We have clear evidence to support our view, though it is top secret. We will track him down, bring him to justice, and bomb and destroy every chicken farm, every henhouse, every nest, until chickens are no longer a threat to our way of life.
AL GORE: I invented the chicken. I invented the road. Therefore, the chicken crossing the road represented the application of these two different functions of government in a new, reinvented way designed to bring greater services to the American people.
PAT BUCHANAN: To steal a job from a decent, hardworking American.
RUSH LIMBAUGH: I don't know why the chicken crossed the road, but I'll bet it was getting a government grant to cross the road, and I'll bet someone out there is already forming a support group to help chickens with crossing-the-road syndrome. Can you believe this? How much more of this can real Americans take? Chickens crossing the road paid for by their tax dollars, and when I say tax dollars, I'm talking about your money, money the government took from you to build roads for chickens to cross.
MARTHA STEWART: If the chicken crossed the road on my property, I would be fully justified in blocking its exit until the local authorities could arrive to arrest it for trespassing. I am a private person and should not have to be subjected to the "innocent mistakes" of common chickens.
JERRY FALWELL: Because the chicken was gay! Isn't it obvious? Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That's what "they" call it - the "other side." Yes, my friends, that ! chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side."
DR. SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, But why it crossed, I've not been told!
ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die. In the rain. Alone.
GRANDPA: In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.
BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heartwarming story of how it overcame a serious case of molting and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.
ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.
KARL MARX: It was a historical inevitability.
SADDAM HUSSEIN: This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.
VOLTAIRE: I may not agree with what the chicken did, but I will defend to the death its right to do it.
RONALD REAGAN: What chicken?
CAPTAIN KIRK: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.
FREUD: The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.
BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken 2003, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook---and Internet Explorer is an inextricable part of eChicken.
EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?
BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What do you mean by chicken? Could you define chicken please?
LOUIS FARRAKHAN: The Road, you will see, represents the black man. The chicken crossed the "black man" in order to Trample him and keep him down.
TRIAL LAWYER: Said Chicken's civil rights were infringed by the State, by building a thoroughfare in a negligent manner and in a place known to be attractive to chickens, resulting in said chickens severe and traumatic injuries. Therefore, the attached suit for $30 million dollars (40% contingency fee) has been filed against the State and the Taxpayers thereof. Triple punitive damages will be sought.
THE BIBLE: And God came down from the heavens, and He said Unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road" and the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.
COLONEL SANDERS: I missed one?
GEORGE W. BUSH: I don't think I should have to answer that question. But I will. He is an evil-doer with evil intentions. We have clear evidence to support our view, though it is top secret. We will track him down, bring him to justice, and bomb and destroy every chicken farm, every henhouse, every nest, until chickens are no longer a threat to our way of life.
AL GORE: I invented the chicken. I invented the road. Therefore, the chicken crossing the road represented the application of these two different functions of government in a new, reinvented way designed to bring greater services to the American people.
PAT BUCHANAN: To steal a job from a decent, hardworking American.
RUSH LIMBAUGH: I don't know why the chicken crossed the road, but I'll bet it was getting a government grant to cross the road, and I'll bet someone out there is already forming a support group to help chickens with crossing-the-road syndrome. Can you believe this? How much more of this can real Americans take? Chickens crossing the road paid for by their tax dollars, and when I say tax dollars, I'm talking about your money, money the government took from you to build roads for chickens to cross.
MARTHA STEWART: If the chicken crossed the road on my property, I would be fully justified in blocking its exit until the local authorities could arrive to arrest it for trespassing. I am a private person and should not have to be subjected to the "innocent mistakes" of common chickens.
JERRY FALWELL: Because the chicken was gay! Isn't it obvious? Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That's what "they" call it - the "other side." Yes, my friends, that ! chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side."
DR. SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, But why it crossed, I've not been told!
ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die. In the rain. Alone.
GRANDPA: In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.
BARBARA WALTERS: Isn't that interesting? In a few moments we will be listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heartwarming story of how it overcame a serious case of molting and went on to accomplish its lifelong dream of crossing the road.
ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.
KARL MARX: It was a historical inevitability.
SADDAM HUSSEIN: This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.
VOLTAIRE: I may not agree with what the chicken did, but I will defend to the death its right to do it.
RONALD REAGAN: What chicken?
CAPTAIN KIRK: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.
FREUD: The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.
BILL GATES: I have just released eChicken 2003, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook---and Internet Explorer is an inextricable part of eChicken.
EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?
BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What do you mean by chicken? Could you define chicken please?
LOUIS FARRAKHAN: The Road, you will see, represents the black man. The chicken crossed the "black man" in order to Trample him and keep him down.
TRIAL LAWYER: Said Chicken's civil rights were infringed by the State, by building a thoroughfare in a negligent manner and in a place known to be attractive to chickens, resulting in said chickens severe and traumatic injuries. Therefore, the attached suit for $30 million dollars (40% contingency fee) has been filed against the State and the Taxpayers thereof. Triple punitive damages will be sought.
THE BIBLE: And God came down from the heavens, and He said Unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road" and the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.
COLONEL SANDERS: I missed one?
Tuesday, October 08, 2002
Saturday, October 05, 2002
Friday, October 04, 2002
Not In Our Name
The Pledge of Resistance
We believe that as people living
in the United States it is our
responsibility to resist the injustices
done by our government,
in our names
Not in our name
will you wage endless war
there can be no more deaths
no more transfusions
of blood for oil
Not in our name
will you invade countries
bomb civilians, kill more children
letting history take its course
over the graves of the nameless
Not in our name
will you erode the very freedoms
you have claimed to fight for
Not by our hands
will we supply weapons and funding
for the annihilation of families
on foreign soil
Not by our mouths
will we let fear silence us
Not by our hearts
will we allow whole peoples
or countries to be deemed evil
Not by our will
and Not in our name
We pledge resistance
We pledge alliance with those
who have come under attack
for voicing opposition to the war
or for their religion or ethnicity
We pledge to make common cause
with the people of the world
to bring about justice,
freedom and peace
Another world is possible
and we pledge to make it real.
The Pledge of Resistance
We believe that as people living
in the United States it is our
responsibility to resist the injustices
done by our government,
in our names
Not in our name
will you wage endless war
there can be no more deaths
no more transfusions
of blood for oil
Not in our name
will you invade countries
bomb civilians, kill more children
letting history take its course
over the graves of the nameless
Not in our name
will you erode the very freedoms
you have claimed to fight for
Not by our hands
will we supply weapons and funding
for the annihilation of families
on foreign soil
Not by our mouths
will we let fear silence us
Not by our hearts
will we allow whole peoples
or countries to be deemed evil
Not by our will
and Not in our name
We pledge resistance
We pledge alliance with those
who have come under attack
for voicing opposition to the war
or for their religion or ethnicity
We pledge to make common cause
with the people of the world
to bring about justice,
freedom and peace
Another world is possible
and we pledge to make it real.
Some People Wait a Lifetime for a Moment Like This
It's the type of bonding and quality time that's is needed between guys. A sanctimonious occasion where we sit around a tv watching other men throwing around a pigskin ball, shooting baskets, or just pummeling each other. It's about passing chips, beer, pretzels, party mix, and gas. Putting our foot down with our girlfriends and telling them, "No I can't go to Yorkdale Mall with you today, the guys are getting together to watch the game." Sports gatherings, we don't do it enough. Or rather, MY friends don't do it enough.
Why don't we do this enough? Several reasons.
1) Whipped black and blue by the girlfriends
Shaky - "Hey Norton, we're heading to Mark's place to watch the superbowl and play some poker later today. You wanna come?"
Norton - "Sorry man, I promised Jacqueline I'd braid her hair."
2) Different priorities
Shaky - "Hey Tomas, we're gonna watch the Roy Jones Jr. match tonight at Spooner's place if you're interested."
Tomas - "Sorry man, I have to go to the mall and buy some new socks for work."
3) Distance
Shaky - "Hey Duckworth, we're watching UFC at Garry's in a few hours. You gonna show up?"
Duckworth - "You do realize it's 6am here in Tokyo right? Click."
4) What is sports?
Shaky - "Hey Garrison, we're gonna watch Kurt Schilling pitch game 7 of the MLB finals tonight at Stan's place."
Garrison - "That's cool. Who's Kurt Schilling?"
Things will change though. I'm starting to put together my own band of merry sports men, minus the green tights (unless of course they're football tights). We will celebrate each touchdown, each basket, each goallllll, and each home run. Why? Because we're men, and goddamnit, that's what men should be doing. It's not much to ask from your fellow man really. It's the same thing our girlfriends ask for -- quality time. The only difference is we ask it less frequently and you don't have to pretend to enjoy sports. It's something that's innate in every normal man. Besides, If you don't stand up to your girlfriend now, she will never understand in the future. Better to precondition them early to ease their pain. So I call upon every man who cares. Run to a friend's house to watch sports, run to the nearest sports bar to watch sports, or go see a game live! It's your duty as a man to preserve our way of life.
It's the type of bonding and quality time that's is needed between guys. A sanctimonious occasion where we sit around a tv watching other men throwing around a pigskin ball, shooting baskets, or just pummeling each other. It's about passing chips, beer, pretzels, party mix, and gas. Putting our foot down with our girlfriends and telling them, "No I can't go to Yorkdale Mall with you today, the guys are getting together to watch the game." Sports gatherings, we don't do it enough. Or rather, MY friends don't do it enough.
Why don't we do this enough? Several reasons.
1) Whipped black and blue by the girlfriends
Shaky - "Hey Norton, we're heading to Mark's place to watch the superbowl and play some poker later today. You wanna come?"
Norton - "Sorry man, I promised Jacqueline I'd braid her hair."
2) Different priorities
Shaky - "Hey Tomas, we're gonna watch the Roy Jones Jr. match tonight at Spooner's place if you're interested."
Tomas - "Sorry man, I have to go to the mall and buy some new socks for work."
3) Distance
Shaky - "Hey Duckworth, we're watching UFC at Garry's in a few hours. You gonna show up?"
Duckworth - "You do realize it's 6am here in Tokyo right? Click."
4) What is sports?
Shaky - "Hey Garrison, we're gonna watch Kurt Schilling pitch game 7 of the MLB finals tonight at Stan's place."
Garrison - "That's cool. Who's Kurt Schilling?"
Things will change though. I'm starting to put together my own band of merry sports men, minus the green tights (unless of course they're football tights). We will celebrate each touchdown, each basket, each goallllll, and each home run. Why? Because we're men, and goddamnit, that's what men should be doing. It's not much to ask from your fellow man really. It's the same thing our girlfriends ask for -- quality time. The only difference is we ask it less frequently and you don't have to pretend to enjoy sports. It's something that's innate in every normal man. Besides, If you don't stand up to your girlfriend now, she will never understand in the future. Better to precondition them early to ease their pain. So I call upon every man who cares. Run to a friend's house to watch sports, run to the nearest sports bar to watch sports, or go see a game live! It's your duty as a man to preserve our way of life.
Thursday, October 03, 2002
blood test...$16.05
vaccinations...$40.00
neutering...$91.00
having a dog that won't hump and jizz all over guests...priceless.
Muffin is going under the knife (or laser) next Thursday morning. Hopefully he'll be a lot calmer after this operation. And hopefully I'll get one of those cool lamp shade thingies for Muffin!!
vaccinations...$40.00
neutering...$91.00
having a dog that won't hump and jizz all over guests...priceless.
Muffin is going under the knife (or laser) next Thursday morning. Hopefully he'll be a lot calmer after this operation. And hopefully I'll get one of those cool lamp shade thingies for Muffin!!
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
Thursday, September 26, 2002
Baked Goods
I now know why the previous owners named my dog "Muffin". He has this nasty habit of leaving hot steamy baked goods on the sidewalk and on people's driveways. Four days he's been here and he's left baked goods on the pavement four times. The other four times he's left them in the grass.
As I walked Muffin today around the neighborhood and through the park, I re-traced our baked goods delivery route. Of the four muffins Muffin left on the pavement; one was squished by a car tire (this was the one he left on someone's driveway and it had tire marks on it), two were stepped on, and one was serving as a meal for some flies. I'm imagining people stepping on them right now...hehe. It's really funny when it happens to someone else. I know I should pick them up but I seriously have a feces phobia. If he does it in our yard I'll pick them up. Outside that, tough shit for everyone else (no pun intended).
Beyond the little poops Muffin's been leaving, he's been adapting quite nicely to the family and house. He doesn't hump people's legs as much anymore. He doesn't bake his goods in the house anymore. He's marked the entire neighborhood off as his territory. And he's started eating normally again. The first few days he wouldn't eat his food or treats. I suppose all his trauma is normal for any animal. Not only does he have to move to a new neighborhood but he has to get used to a new family. The culture shock must be quite overwhelming. I hoping he'll get over the initial trauma quickly and realize he's got a wonderful home here now.
Right now he's outside in the yard playing. He's really friendly and I can tell he loves to be around humans. Often I find him just standing at the screen door staring at me with his puppy eyes and begging to come in to play. Cute little guy I tell you. Come visit when you have the chance, he's dying to meet you. I'm gonna go play with him now.
I now know why the previous owners named my dog "Muffin". He has this nasty habit of leaving hot steamy baked goods on the sidewalk and on people's driveways. Four days he's been here and he's left baked goods on the pavement four times. The other four times he's left them in the grass.
As I walked Muffin today around the neighborhood and through the park, I re-traced our baked goods delivery route. Of the four muffins Muffin left on the pavement; one was squished by a car tire (this was the one he left on someone's driveway and it had tire marks on it), two were stepped on, and one was serving as a meal for some flies. I'm imagining people stepping on them right now...hehe. It's really funny when it happens to someone else. I know I should pick them up but I seriously have a feces phobia. If he does it in our yard I'll pick them up. Outside that, tough shit for everyone else (no pun intended).
Beyond the little poops Muffin's been leaving, he's been adapting quite nicely to the family and house. He doesn't hump people's legs as much anymore. He doesn't bake his goods in the house anymore. He's marked the entire neighborhood off as his territory. And he's started eating normally again. The first few days he wouldn't eat his food or treats. I suppose all his trauma is normal for any animal. Not only does he have to move to a new neighborhood but he has to get used to a new family. The culture shock must be quite overwhelming. I hoping he'll get over the initial trauma quickly and realize he's got a wonderful home here now.
Right now he's outside in the yard playing. He's really friendly and I can tell he loves to be around humans. Often I find him just standing at the screen door staring at me with his puppy eyes and begging to come in to play. Cute little guy I tell you. Come visit when you have the chance, he's dying to meet you. I'm gonna go play with him now.
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
Dog-Ma
My mom finally got me a dog. After all these years of begging and pleading. She finally gave in and got me a dog. Her co-worker/friend's son bought a dog a year ago and it turns out she was allergic to it. The dog spent most of it's time in a garage and she felt sorry for it. So she decided on giving it away to someone who could care for it better. Me being Jimmy on the spot, asked my mom whether we could adopt it and to my surprise she agreed. The dog's name is "Muffin" and it's a "HE". As much as I loathe cutesy names for dogs (especially male dogs), the dog answers to the name and I don't have the heart to give it my identities of choice such as "Dag" or "Raff". Raff the cocker spaniel. That would have had a nice ring to it. I've always wanted either a rottweiler, golden retriever, labrador, or a husky but at the same time I always said I would rescue a dog from a shelter. Muffin isn't from a shelter but I have a chance to give him a better home. He's been here 1 day and so far he's pissed on the carpet twice and shat in the basement once, and I couldn't be happier with him. I just hope he'll be happy here with me. Watch out world, Jake now has his own sidekick.
(Cue onslaught of blogments about my dog's cutesy name.)
My mom finally got me a dog. After all these years of begging and pleading. She finally gave in and got me a dog. Her co-worker/friend's son bought a dog a year ago and it turns out she was allergic to it. The dog spent most of it's time in a garage and she felt sorry for it. So she decided on giving it away to someone who could care for it better. Me being Jimmy on the spot, asked my mom whether we could adopt it and to my surprise she agreed. The dog's name is "Muffin" and it's a "HE". As much as I loathe cutesy names for dogs (especially male dogs), the dog answers to the name and I don't have the heart to give it my identities of choice such as "Dag" or "Raff". Raff the cocker spaniel. That would have had a nice ring to it. I've always wanted either a rottweiler, golden retriever, labrador, or a husky but at the same time I always said I would rescue a dog from a shelter. Muffin isn't from a shelter but I have a chance to give him a better home. He's been here 1 day and so far he's pissed on the carpet twice and shat in the basement once, and I couldn't be happier with him. I just hope he'll be happy here with me. Watch out world, Jake now has his own sidekick.
(Cue onslaught of blogments about my dog's cutesy name.)
Sunday, September 22, 2002
Invictius
William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconqerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconqerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
Thursday, September 19, 2002
All Families Are Psychotic
And in the end no one in my family understands me. I've lived with them for 26 years of my life. Not really a small time frame if you ask me and yet no one knows the essence of Jake. Am I some sort of enigma? Of course not. I'm as plain as a cotton white shirt on sale for $9.99 at Walmart. All I ask is for them to love me, care for me, and listen to me. To understand my hopes, my dreams, my visions. I have dreams goddamnit! But they are just oblivious to me. They go about their daily lives without the slightest concern for anyone else's needs except for themselves. Selfishness will tear us apart I tell them but they ignore me. Why don't they love me? Why don't they listen to me? Why won't they take me seriously? I mean really, how hard can it be? I said "Apple Cinnamon Cheerios" not "Cinnamon Toast". Fuck. What am I suppose to do with this shit? I can't eat this crap!
And in the end no one in my family understands me. I've lived with them for 26 years of my life. Not really a small time frame if you ask me and yet no one knows the essence of Jake. Am I some sort of enigma? Of course not. I'm as plain as a cotton white shirt on sale for $9.99 at Walmart. All I ask is for them to love me, care for me, and listen to me. To understand my hopes, my dreams, my visions. I have dreams goddamnit! But they are just oblivious to me. They go about their daily lives without the slightest concern for anyone else's needs except for themselves. Selfishness will tear us apart I tell them but they ignore me. Why don't they love me? Why don't they listen to me? Why won't they take me seriously? I mean really, how hard can it be? I said "Apple Cinnamon Cheerios" not "Cinnamon Toast". Fuck. What am I suppose to do with this shit? I can't eat this crap!
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
"It is a feeling that our emotions, while wonderful, are transpiring in a vacuum and I think it boils down to the fact that we're middle class.
You see, when you're middle class, you have to live with the fact that history will ignore you. You have to live with the fact that history can never champion your causes and that history will never feel sorry for you. It is the price that is paid for day-to-day comfort and silence. And because of this price, all happinesses are sterile; all sadnesses go unpitied.
And any small moments of intense, flaring beauty such as this morning's will be utterly forgotten, dissolved by time like a super-8 film left out in the rain, without sound, and quickly replaced by thousands of silently growing trees."
Monday, September 16, 2002
The Sundays - Here's Where the Story Ends
It's that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes my eyes feel sore
Oh I never should have said the books that you read
Were all I loved you for
It's that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes me wonder why
And it's the memories of the shed that make me turn red
Surprise, surprise, surprise
Crazy I know, places I go
Make me feel so tired
I can see how people look down
I'm on the outside
Here's where the story ends.
My sister woke me up this morning at 7am to let me know our grandfather passed away today at 5:30 am in Bethlehem, PA. I was suppose to go see him yesterday but had to work til late afternoon and couldn't make the early trip with my dad. In all honesty, I could have just taken work off last minute but I didn't really want to go. I've said it before, I don't like hospitals. They're just not very happy places to be for a happy person like myself. In fact that's how I've lived most of my life, avoiding environments/situations with stress and pain. Avoidance, avoidance, avoidance. It's what keeps my own little utopic world afloat. Douglas Coupland (DC) might have called it emotional dodge ball.
A few of my ex-girlfriends once told me that I was emotionless. Which isn't completely accurate because most of my friends will tell you I'm a very happy-go-lucky type of guy. I understand happiness. I joke. I kid. I laugh. However, I think they meant I lacked the more concerned emotions. Emotions like anger and melancholy. I always wondered why I came off as such. Now I know. I'm the reigning champion of emotional dodge ball.
I've known about my grandfather's illnesses for well over a year. He's been in and out of the hospital for awhile now and I knew that his life was fading. So I distanced myself from his emphysema, his bronchitis, his pneumonia. I removed myself from the pain while he endured and fought it. I put it out of my head while my family worried. Sometimes my own selfishness disappoints me.
He was a chain smoker his entire life. What else did people expect? It finally caught up with him. My dad is also a chain smoker and I've asked him to cutback on smoking several times. He hasn't listened to my concerns. I started distancing myself from him awhile ago. I wonder if my grandfather's death will put things in perspective for him.
Upon hearing the news this morning I just stayed in bed. I really didn't know how to feel. I wanted to cry. I really did. I just couldn't. I would have gone back to bed but hearing my sisters sobbing in the hallway made me feel guilty at the very thought. So I woke up and blogged. I'm putting my thoughts in writing. Trying to make sense of them. In a way, I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve (or in more modern terms, publishing it on the internet). Regardless of how contrived it may be to some people, it's just me dealing with something new.
Here are my current thoughts. I'm relieved that my grandfather's suffering has ended. I'm confused as to why I am so calm. I'm curious as to how I can start deconstructing my utopia and reconstructing one that's a little more affectionate/compassionate. And lastly, I'm tired of running away from things.
It's that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes my eyes feel sore
Oh I never should have said the books that you read
Were all I loved you for
It's that little souvenir of a terrible year
Which makes me wonder why
And it's the memories of the shed that make me turn red
Surprise, surprise, surprise
Crazy I know, places I go
Make me feel so tired
I can see how people look down
I'm on the outside
Here's where the story ends.
My sister woke me up this morning at 7am to let me know our grandfather passed away today at 5:30 am in Bethlehem, PA. I was suppose to go see him yesterday but had to work til late afternoon and couldn't make the early trip with my dad. In all honesty, I could have just taken work off last minute but I didn't really want to go. I've said it before, I don't like hospitals. They're just not very happy places to be for a happy person like myself. In fact that's how I've lived most of my life, avoiding environments/situations with stress and pain. Avoidance, avoidance, avoidance. It's what keeps my own little utopic world afloat. Douglas Coupland (DC) might have called it emotional dodge ball.
A few of my ex-girlfriends once told me that I was emotionless. Which isn't completely accurate because most of my friends will tell you I'm a very happy-go-lucky type of guy. I understand happiness. I joke. I kid. I laugh. However, I think they meant I lacked the more concerned emotions. Emotions like anger and melancholy. I always wondered why I came off as such. Now I know. I'm the reigning champion of emotional dodge ball.
I've known about my grandfather's illnesses for well over a year. He's been in and out of the hospital for awhile now and I knew that his life was fading. So I distanced myself from his emphysema, his bronchitis, his pneumonia. I removed myself from the pain while he endured and fought it. I put it out of my head while my family worried. Sometimes my own selfishness disappoints me.
He was a chain smoker his entire life. What else did people expect? It finally caught up with him. My dad is also a chain smoker and I've asked him to cutback on smoking several times. He hasn't listened to my concerns. I started distancing myself from him awhile ago. I wonder if my grandfather's death will put things in perspective for him.
Upon hearing the news this morning I just stayed in bed. I really didn't know how to feel. I wanted to cry. I really did. I just couldn't. I would have gone back to bed but hearing my sisters sobbing in the hallway made me feel guilty at the very thought. So I woke up and blogged. I'm putting my thoughts in writing. Trying to make sense of them. In a way, I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve (or in more modern terms, publishing it on the internet). Regardless of how contrived it may be to some people, it's just me dealing with something new.
Here are my current thoughts. I'm relieved that my grandfather's suffering has ended. I'm confused as to why I am so calm. I'm curious as to how I can start deconstructing my utopia and reconstructing one that's a little more affectionate/compassionate. And lastly, I'm tired of running away from things.
Sunday, September 15, 2002
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
Strange Days
9:55am
I'm in my grandfather's hospital bedroom watching him wheez and cough. He's in a foul mood because my grandmother didn't come visit him the day before (she had a migraine the entire day). He coughs up what looks to be phlegm but not the off-white/yellow kind. It's grayish-black and soot-like. A live "say NO to smoking" commercial right before my eyes. I walk out into the hall not a little disgusted.
10:35am
Back in the room, I take a quick survey. He now has more flowers than the day before. A variety of carnations, daisies, and roses. The room looks a little less like, well, a hospital room. I wish I could paint the walls yellow or blue. I catch him staring at something in front of him on the wall. I notice it's a clock. In front of each bed is a clock (the room has 2 beds). I find this a little unthoughtful because my grandfather is dying and it's almost like he's watching the remainder of his life tick by. Just as I was pondering this the room's phone rang. I picked it up expecting a family member calling to check up on my grandfather. What I got instead was a telemarketer asking if we were interested in their satellite tv services. A little bit inappropriate, all things considered. Where do these people get their numbers from?
11:00am
On highway 81 headed back to Toronto. Me and my dad are having a heartfelt father to son conversation. Ok, I'm lying. If anyone knows me and my dad. We don't talk unless it's absolutely necessary. My dad is extremely introverted and doesn't talk much with the rest of my family. Actually, my entire family doesn't talk to each other unless it's necessary. Yes we're dysfunctional, aren't most families? Which reminds me, I really have to get around to reading Douglas Coupland's "All Families are Psychotic".
7:10pm
The ride was 8 hours long and I think he said 3 things to me the entire time. "Are you hungry? We can stop and get McDonalds if you are", "We should get gas", and my favourite, "Take the next exit, I've got to pee." I drove the entire time by myself virtually in silence. My dad tends to get lost easily so I dared not risk letting him drive us to Newfoundland. On our way down to Allentown, PA my dad nearly drove us to New York City. Which is about 2 hrs east of where we were suppose to be. I wasn't in the mood for a tour of the east coast this time.
Besides the numerous carcasses of roadkill I saw (each and every one of them reminding me of Tom Green humping a dead moose), the only other interesting thing I saw was a car driving without one of it's tires. It was literally driving on one rim without the rubber. I was doing 120 km/hr and he must have been doing around 90. I passed him as quick as I could knowing full well that he might crash that car any minute. I looked over as I passed him and noticed a middle-aged man. He looked completely oblivious to the loud grinding of the metal rim on asphalt. I decided I would be oblivious to it as well and I smiled at him. I wonder how far he got on that one bad wheel.
11:37pm
We arrived home safely and after a nice meal and a shower I lounged the remainder of the night. I also found out my cousin will be moving into my house for a month or two while he finds a new apartment in Toronto. He started moving some of his stuff into our spare bedroom this weekend but won't be staying here til next week. As I perused through his box of VHS tapes in hopes of finding a movie I haven't seen, I come across a few unmarked tapes. Finding unmarked tapes is like finding gold. People rarely mark pornography. No one wants to admit to owning a tape that's marked "Lord of the Cock Rings" or "Missionary Impossible". I put in the first one. Turns out it's just a few music videos. Fools gold. I put in the second one and hit the jackpot. Porn!! About 5 minutes into the movie my VCR shuts off. I press play. No dice. I press forward, rewind, and eject. Nothing works. Looks like I've got a jammed tape. I consider asking my dad to get his toolbox but I think better of it. I fiddled around with it for another 10 minutes before I finally gave up. I pull the plug on the VCR and hope it will miraculously work tomorrow morning. It figures that the day I find free porn the VCR breaks. Life is so unkind. I think that's a sign for me to call it a day. I suppose I should go cry myself to sleep now. Goodnight.
9:55am
I'm in my grandfather's hospital bedroom watching him wheez and cough. He's in a foul mood because my grandmother didn't come visit him the day before (she had a migraine the entire day). He coughs up what looks to be phlegm but not the off-white/yellow kind. It's grayish-black and soot-like. A live "say NO to smoking" commercial right before my eyes. I walk out into the hall not a little disgusted.
10:35am
Back in the room, I take a quick survey. He now has more flowers than the day before. A variety of carnations, daisies, and roses. The room looks a little less like, well, a hospital room. I wish I could paint the walls yellow or blue. I catch him staring at something in front of him on the wall. I notice it's a clock. In front of each bed is a clock (the room has 2 beds). I find this a little unthoughtful because my grandfather is dying and it's almost like he's watching the remainder of his life tick by. Just as I was pondering this the room's phone rang. I picked it up expecting a family member calling to check up on my grandfather. What I got instead was a telemarketer asking if we were interested in their satellite tv services. A little bit inappropriate, all things considered. Where do these people get their numbers from?
11:00am
On highway 81 headed back to Toronto. Me and my dad are having a heartfelt father to son conversation. Ok, I'm lying. If anyone knows me and my dad. We don't talk unless it's absolutely necessary. My dad is extremely introverted and doesn't talk much with the rest of my family. Actually, my entire family doesn't talk to each other unless it's necessary. Yes we're dysfunctional, aren't most families? Which reminds me, I really have to get around to reading Douglas Coupland's "All Families are Psychotic".
7:10pm
The ride was 8 hours long and I think he said 3 things to me the entire time. "Are you hungry? We can stop and get McDonalds if you are", "We should get gas", and my favourite, "Take the next exit, I've got to pee." I drove the entire time by myself virtually in silence. My dad tends to get lost easily so I dared not risk letting him drive us to Newfoundland. On our way down to Allentown, PA my dad nearly drove us to New York City. Which is about 2 hrs east of where we were suppose to be. I wasn't in the mood for a tour of the east coast this time.
Besides the numerous carcasses of roadkill I saw (each and every one of them reminding me of Tom Green humping a dead moose), the only other interesting thing I saw was a car driving without one of it's tires. It was literally driving on one rim without the rubber. I was doing 120 km/hr and he must have been doing around 90. I passed him as quick as I could knowing full well that he might crash that car any minute. I looked over as I passed him and noticed a middle-aged man. He looked completely oblivious to the loud grinding of the metal rim on asphalt. I decided I would be oblivious to it as well and I smiled at him. I wonder how far he got on that one bad wheel.
11:37pm
We arrived home safely and after a nice meal and a shower I lounged the remainder of the night. I also found out my cousin will be moving into my house for a month or two while he finds a new apartment in Toronto. He started moving some of his stuff into our spare bedroom this weekend but won't be staying here til next week. As I perused through his box of VHS tapes in hopes of finding a movie I haven't seen, I come across a few unmarked tapes. Finding unmarked tapes is like finding gold. People rarely mark pornography. No one wants to admit to owning a tape that's marked "Lord of the Cock Rings" or "Missionary Impossible". I put in the first one. Turns out it's just a few music videos. Fools gold. I put in the second one and hit the jackpot. Porn!! About 5 minutes into the movie my VCR shuts off. I press play. No dice. I press forward, rewind, and eject. Nothing works. Looks like I've got a jammed tape. I consider asking my dad to get his toolbox but I think better of it. I fiddled around with it for another 10 minutes before I finally gave up. I pull the plug on the VCR and hope it will miraculously work tomorrow morning. It figures that the day I find free porn the VCR breaks. Life is so unkind. I think that's a sign for me to call it a day. I suppose I should go cry myself to sleep now. Goodnight.
Saturday, August 31, 2002
A Single Solitary Flower
Someone just asked me if I had a carebear. Those bears from the 80s cartoon that fought evil with love and caring. Of course I don't but even if I did I wouldn't publicly admit to owning one. There are a few toys that I never owned nor would I own up to owning one if I did (was that as confusing as I intended it to be?). Not that there was anything wrong with playing with these types of toys but they were just so boring. I never owned a She-Ra doll, a Strawberry Shortcake doll, a Cabbage Patch kid, a Barbie, or a Jem doll. What exactly could you do with them? Hug them? Play dress-up with them? How do they even compare with mechanical toys that turn from planes to robots? Or army men who fire tiny projectiles from their weapons? I think it's time the toymakers make something a little more interesting for girls. How about a Karate Barbie that can kick Ken's perverted ass when he tries to cop a cheap feel? Or a She-Ra doll that you can wind-up and make it dance like a raver on E? Tell me you wouldn't buy one. Come on, I dare you!
I've been AWOL for a few weeks. Several reasons for my absence. I had a one week trip to Houston to visit my significant other. Good times. I came back only to find out that my grandfather was ill in the hospital again. He's 80+ years old and used to be a chain smoker. He has a myriad of illnesses related to smoking and a few more related to old age. I promptly made a trip to Allentown, PA to visit him in the hospital. Not good times. That's where I'll be for the next several days. Last reason for my absence is writer's cramp. A little different from writers block in that it's not so much I lack the inspiration to write but everything I've written seems so horridly contrived and lacking that natural flow I look for in my writing. I end up deleting entire novels just because it's so painful to re-read. Hence, writer's cramp. Maybe it was the little break from blogging. Maybe my mind has been on more important matters like my grandfather. Either way there's not much to say about that. I just wanted to explain to the handful of people who actually visit my page and I'll continue to write with hopes the ship will right itself somewhere down the road.
Just a passing thought. Imagine this for an Saturday Night Live skit. "My Lover is a Muslim Fundamentalist!" Ok, maybe that was only amusing to me. So wrong, yet so funny. Kind of like seeing an old lady slip on a banana peel. Really I'm not the devil.
So my trip to Houston was a very nice vacation. Not only because I got to see my girlfriend but also because the last 8 months of school was super stressful. Besides, the girlfriend is extremely comical which is always a good stress relief. I woke up one morning and was watching television in the living room when the gf comes in wearing what seemed to be baggy pink MC Hammer stretch pants. You'll have to imagine this to get the full effect. She pulls the waists up over her shoulder and says, "Look, I'm a giant pink tooth!" I nearly piss my pants in front of her parents.
Another afternoon she invited me into her bedroom to see a collection of hers. Here's the conversation that followed.
She goes on to show me 2 items; a melted tape, and a melted box of crayons. I swear, you couldn't make this stuff up. I laughed for a good 5 minutes.
On another occasion her parents were at work and we were fooling around in the bedroom (virgin eyes please look away). She reaches the big O and looks deeply in my eyes. I knew what she was going to say next -- "I love you." Or so I thought. She instead smiled and said, "I'm a champion." Quickly the image of the guy who orgasms and says "Touchdown!!" passes through my head. On the unintentional humour scale, this rated a 9. Lucky her parents weren't home because I bursted out laughing and almost rolled off the bed. Like the Rick James song goes. "She's a very special girl. The kind you don't take home to mama."
After the trip to Houston I got the unfortunate news about my grandfather and I drove down with my father to see him in the hospital. I hate hospitals. They're so dreary and listless. Everything is so sterile white. Everyone has a glum face. It's really hard to stay optimistic in a place like that. I walk into my grandfather's room and notice that he's hooked up to a mechanical ventilation machine, a bag of IV fluid, and a pulse monitor. It was terribly surreal.
I last saw him only a year ago and yet I could barely recognize him. His face was puffy from all the IV fluid. He was awake and eating some vegetables, chicken, and rice. I asked him how he was doing. He replied half weezing, "I'm very fatigued." I tell him to finish eating and to rest. He doesn't reply. The remainder of the time I spent wandering the halls while my dad and my uncles spoke to him. It was really difficult seeing him in so much discomfort. At times I found myself on the verge of tears even though I had already known about his illnesses and had convinced myself that there's nothing to be sad about. "He's lived a full life and everyone's time has to come sooner or later", I keep telling myself. But no matter how hard you convince yourself, seeing someone in that condition and in that sort of environment will always break your spirit.
As I was saying goodbye to my grandfather I noticed in the corner of the white sterile room a single pink daisy. I don't know why I didn't notice it before but it seemed so out of place in a setting like this. So bright and full of life. Like a bright lantern in the middle of the woods. For that brief moment things didn't seem so bad. Life didn't seem so fragile. I think the next time I visit him I'll bring him more flowers.
Someone just asked me if I had a carebear. Those bears from the 80s cartoon that fought evil with love and caring. Of course I don't but even if I did I wouldn't publicly admit to owning one. There are a few toys that I never owned nor would I own up to owning one if I did (was that as confusing as I intended it to be?). Not that there was anything wrong with playing with these types of toys but they were just so boring. I never owned a She-Ra doll, a Strawberry Shortcake doll, a Cabbage Patch kid, a Barbie, or a Jem doll. What exactly could you do with them? Hug them? Play dress-up with them? How do they even compare with mechanical toys that turn from planes to robots? Or army men who fire tiny projectiles from their weapons? I think it's time the toymakers make something a little more interesting for girls. How about a Karate Barbie that can kick Ken's perverted ass when he tries to cop a cheap feel? Or a She-Ra doll that you can wind-up and make it dance like a raver on E? Tell me you wouldn't buy one. Come on, I dare you!
I've been AWOL for a few weeks. Several reasons for my absence. I had a one week trip to Houston to visit my significant other. Good times. I came back only to find out that my grandfather was ill in the hospital again. He's 80+ years old and used to be a chain smoker. He has a myriad of illnesses related to smoking and a few more related to old age. I promptly made a trip to Allentown, PA to visit him in the hospital. Not good times. That's where I'll be for the next several days. Last reason for my absence is writer's cramp. A little different from writers block in that it's not so much I lack the inspiration to write but everything I've written seems so horridly contrived and lacking that natural flow I look for in my writing. I end up deleting entire novels just because it's so painful to re-read. Hence, writer's cramp. Maybe it was the little break from blogging. Maybe my mind has been on more important matters like my grandfather. Either way there's not much to say about that. I just wanted to explain to the handful of people who actually visit my page and I'll continue to write with hopes the ship will right itself somewhere down the road.
Just a passing thought. Imagine this for an Saturday Night Live skit. "My Lover is a Muslim Fundamentalist!" Ok, maybe that was only amusing to me. So wrong, yet so funny. Kind of like seeing an old lady slip on a banana peel. Really I'm not the devil.
So my trip to Houston was a very nice vacation. Not only because I got to see my girlfriend but also because the last 8 months of school was super stressful. Besides, the girlfriend is extremely comical which is always a good stress relief. I woke up one morning and was watching television in the living room when the gf comes in wearing what seemed to be baggy pink MC Hammer stretch pants. You'll have to imagine this to get the full effect. She pulls the waists up over her shoulder and says, "Look, I'm a giant pink tooth!" I nearly piss my pants in front of her parents.
Another afternoon she invited me into her bedroom to see a collection of hers. Here's the conversation that followed.
gf - “Wanna see my collection?”
me - “What collection?”
gf - “Two is a collection right?”
me - “I suppose.”
gf - “Check out my collection of things that have melted in the car!”
She goes on to show me 2 items; a melted tape, and a melted box of crayons. I swear, you couldn't make this stuff up. I laughed for a good 5 minutes.
On another occasion her parents were at work and we were fooling around in the bedroom (virgin eyes please look away). She reaches the big O and looks deeply in my eyes. I knew what she was going to say next -- "I love you." Or so I thought. She instead smiled and said, "I'm a champion." Quickly the image of the guy who orgasms and says "Touchdown!!" passes through my head. On the unintentional humour scale, this rated a 9. Lucky her parents weren't home because I bursted out laughing and almost rolled off the bed. Like the Rick James song goes. "She's a very special girl. The kind you don't take home to mama."
After the trip to Houston I got the unfortunate news about my grandfather and I drove down with my father to see him in the hospital. I hate hospitals. They're so dreary and listless. Everything is so sterile white. Everyone has a glum face. It's really hard to stay optimistic in a place like that. I walk into my grandfather's room and notice that he's hooked up to a mechanical ventilation machine, a bag of IV fluid, and a pulse monitor. It was terribly surreal.
I last saw him only a year ago and yet I could barely recognize him. His face was puffy from all the IV fluid. He was awake and eating some vegetables, chicken, and rice. I asked him how he was doing. He replied half weezing, "I'm very fatigued." I tell him to finish eating and to rest. He doesn't reply. The remainder of the time I spent wandering the halls while my dad and my uncles spoke to him. It was really difficult seeing him in so much discomfort. At times I found myself on the verge of tears even though I had already known about his illnesses and had convinced myself that there's nothing to be sad about. "He's lived a full life and everyone's time has to come sooner or later", I keep telling myself. But no matter how hard you convince yourself, seeing someone in that condition and in that sort of environment will always break your spirit.
As I was saying goodbye to my grandfather I noticed in the corner of the white sterile room a single pink daisy. I don't know why I didn't notice it before but it seemed so out of place in a setting like this. So bright and full of life. Like a bright lantern in the middle of the woods. For that brief moment things didn't seem so bad. Life didn't seem so fragile. I think the next time I visit him I'll bring him more flowers.
Friday, August 23, 2002
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
I can't believe it's not a blog...
Just finished eating toast with butter and strawberry jam. Well, not real butter but "I can't believe it's not butter". I think this has got to be one of the most ingenious ideas ever. Taking something that's widely known as unhealthy but making it less unhealthy for the masses that can't live without it. Imagine if we could create less sinful substitutes for our hedonistic vices! I'd wake up every morning and have "I can't believe it's not bacon and eggs" and wash it down with "I can't believe it's not beer". I'd probably spend the rest of the day watching "I can't believe it's not porn" while smoking "I can't believe it's not weed" though I'd rather have "I can't believe it's not sex" with "I can't believe it's not Jessica Alba".
The idea of living a life uninhibited is really enticing and at times I find myself torn between being my regular conservative self and actually abandoning my principles to join my friends gone wild. If only I had a healthier alternative. I'd like to think that some of my choices come from carefully weighing the risks and consequences and not me being a prude but I could be wrong. Maybe I am living life too carefullly. I know that sometimes it's nice to indulge in the actual sin and not a cheap imitation but where do you draw the line? Am I missing out on life? I wonder.
Just finished eating toast with butter and strawberry jam. Well, not real butter but "I can't believe it's not butter". I think this has got to be one of the most ingenious ideas ever. Taking something that's widely known as unhealthy but making it less unhealthy for the masses that can't live without it. Imagine if we could create less sinful substitutes for our hedonistic vices! I'd wake up every morning and have "I can't believe it's not bacon and eggs" and wash it down with "I can't believe it's not beer". I'd probably spend the rest of the day watching "I can't believe it's not porn" while smoking "I can't believe it's not weed" though I'd rather have "I can't believe it's not sex" with "I can't believe it's not Jessica Alba".
The idea of living a life uninhibited is really enticing and at times I find myself torn between being my regular conservative self and actually abandoning my principles to join my friends gone wild. If only I had a healthier alternative. I'd like to think that some of my choices come from carefully weighing the risks and consequences and not me being a prude but I could be wrong. Maybe I am living life too carefullly. I know that sometimes it's nice to indulge in the actual sin and not a cheap imitation but where do you draw the line? Am I missing out on life? I wonder.
Monday, August 12, 2002
Sunday, August 11, 2002
The search for Sheer stupidity...
The little things that amuse me. I just spent the better part of half an hour online trying to find a picture of the old Sheer stocking container that looks like an egg. I wanted to alter it and put "Stupidity" underneath "Sheer". I thought it was rather clever. Unfortunately they don't make those containers anymore. It's a shame really. It's really frustrating when you can't find things online. What with the internet being so vast. Ah well. I suppose it was sheer stupidity to be looking for Sheer stupidity in the first place.
Yesterday I was at MAC buying some makeup for a friend's birthday gift and I saw this heavy duty makeup case that looked really neat. The thing had latches and was made of some sort of heavy duty metal (possibly stainless steal). It sort of looked like one of those boxes that magicians saw people in half with except smaller. Anyhow, that's not the reason I thought it was cool. It just looked like something a hollywood makeup artist would carry around on set. So heavy and substantial. I'd imagine you could probably fit your lunch in there. Imagine that! You're getting ready to go out and you whip out this huge box with your makeup in it. After you finish your makeup you magically pull a sandwich from the box!! How cool would that be? You'd be the envy of all your friends.
I wanted my girlfriend to be the envy of her friends but I came to my senses after discovering that the box/case was $250.00 CDN. Also seeing how my girlfriend doesn't wear much makeup I suppose she wouldn't have much use for it. Though she could probably use it as a lunch box. Still quite useful if you ask me.
After I left the mall I went to a birthday bbq for the same girl I was shopping for. Met some nice people. Made lots of smalltalk (which I hate). Ate good food (which I love). Had the runs (again, not too pleasant). Then proceeded to a club to get the birthday girl drunk. Mission accomplished. We had to literally carry the girl out of the club. There's something special about seeing your friends shit-faced on their birthdays. I would imagine this dates back to the prehistoric days when cavemen got together and celebrated their birthdays by making their friends drink woolly mammoth urine and watching them stumble about. Good times.
My cousin who I dragged along to the club was also a bit drunk and I ended up driving his bmw home. You know when you see an Asian guy in a suped up bmw driving around town looking all cool? And you're thinking to yourself, "That guy looks so arrogant and pompous." Well that's what I looked like today driving to and from work. I rolled up the windows and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible but I don't think it worked out. People were looking at me (or at least I felt they were) all over town. I know they were thinking bad thoughts too!! I just wanted to roll down my window and tell them that I didn't have any grey poupon, that this car was a loaner from my cousin, and that I don't even have a car. But then I thought I'd rather look arrogant and pompous than broke and pathetic. Needless to say I just sped home as fast as I could (which in retrospect probably made me look even more pompous).
Now I'm at home and feeling quite bushed. This has been a pretty active weekend for me. With me being in school I really don't get out much and I find that when I do go out I'm dead tired by 11pm. I think I'm gonna cut this entry a bit short and take a nap. Before I go though. Don't bother looking for Sheer stupidity. I couldn't find a picture of the egg anywhere. Apparently they don't make them anymore. My friend Tina has continued the search for me and she has yet to find it as well (apparently Sheer stupidity is contagious). Don't bother looking for it. However if you do find it, let me know. Buh-bye.
The little things that amuse me. I just spent the better part of half an hour online trying to find a picture of the old Sheer stocking container that looks like an egg. I wanted to alter it and put "Stupidity" underneath "Sheer". I thought it was rather clever. Unfortunately they don't make those containers anymore. It's a shame really. It's really frustrating when you can't find things online. What with the internet being so vast. Ah well. I suppose it was sheer stupidity to be looking for Sheer stupidity in the first place.
Yesterday I was at MAC buying some makeup for a friend's birthday gift and I saw this heavy duty makeup case that looked really neat. The thing had latches and was made of some sort of heavy duty metal (possibly stainless steal). It sort of looked like one of those boxes that magicians saw people in half with except smaller. Anyhow, that's not the reason I thought it was cool. It just looked like something a hollywood makeup artist would carry around on set. So heavy and substantial. I'd imagine you could probably fit your lunch in there. Imagine that! You're getting ready to go out and you whip out this huge box with your makeup in it. After you finish your makeup you magically pull a sandwich from the box!! How cool would that be? You'd be the envy of all your friends.
Kimmie - "How does my eyeliner...munch, munch...look Tina?...munch, munch..."
Tina - "Looks just fine. You wouldn't happen to have some Popeye's chicken in there would you?"
Kimmie - "Damn right...munch, munch...I do!"
Tina - "Hook a sista up!"
Kimmie - *tosses Tina a breast*
Tina - "Drumstick!!...you know I love drumsticks!!"
Kimmie - "My bad."
I wanted my girlfriend to be the envy of her friends but I came to my senses after discovering that the box/case was $250.00 CDN. Also seeing how my girlfriend doesn't wear much makeup I suppose she wouldn't have much use for it. Though she could probably use it as a lunch box. Still quite useful if you ask me.
After I left the mall I went to a birthday bbq for the same girl I was shopping for. Met some nice people. Made lots of smalltalk (which I hate). Ate good food (which I love). Had the runs (again, not too pleasant). Then proceeded to a club to get the birthday girl drunk. Mission accomplished. We had to literally carry the girl out of the club. There's something special about seeing your friends shit-faced on their birthdays. I would imagine this dates back to the prehistoric days when cavemen got together and celebrated their birthdays by making their friends drink woolly mammoth urine and watching them stumble about. Good times.
My cousin who I dragged along to the club was also a bit drunk and I ended up driving his bmw home. You know when you see an Asian guy in a suped up bmw driving around town looking all cool? And you're thinking to yourself, "That guy looks so arrogant and pompous." Well that's what I looked like today driving to and from work. I rolled up the windows and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible but I don't think it worked out. People were looking at me (or at least I felt they were) all over town. I know they were thinking bad thoughts too!! I just wanted to roll down my window and tell them that I didn't have any grey poupon, that this car was a loaner from my cousin, and that I don't even have a car. But then I thought I'd rather look arrogant and pompous than broke and pathetic. Needless to say I just sped home as fast as I could (which in retrospect probably made me look even more pompous).
Now I'm at home and feeling quite bushed. This has been a pretty active weekend for me. With me being in school I really don't get out much and I find that when I do go out I'm dead tired by 11pm. I think I'm gonna cut this entry a bit short and take a nap. Before I go though. Don't bother looking for Sheer stupidity. I couldn't find a picture of the egg anywhere. Apparently they don't make them anymore. My friend Tina has continued the search for me and she has yet to find it as well (apparently Sheer stupidity is contagious). Don't bother looking for it. However if you do find it, let me know. Buh-bye.
Friday, August 09, 2002
I have crossed over to the promise land...
For the longest time I have always hated public washrooms. Just the thought of sharing something so sacred as a toilet with thousands of other people thoroughly disgusts me. At home you share a washroom with family members. People you can trust. Often you're sharing several washrooms with several family members. If there are any accidents in the washroom you can probably narrow it down to a select few people. Take for instance my home. If there is any pee-pee on the seats of the toilets, you could point fingers at either my dad or I. Easier to figure out the culprit of a crime if there's a small handful of suspects. People know they are accountable for their actions and they clean up appropriately.
Not the case with public washrooms. You're sharing toilets with hundreds, maybe thousands of people. People who don't have the same accountability because it isn't their washroom. They know a janitor will clean it up for them. I've walked into thousands of washrooms where people have missed the toilet so badly you would have thought Stevie Wonder had just used it. I apologize to any blind people who may be reading this and feel that they are unjustly singled out as people who lack washroom etiquette. I am merely making a crass analogy to better illustrate my point.
Today was one of those days where I needed to use the washroom badly after a good and bad meal at Burger King (I swear they put laxatives in burgers). I walked into the washroom next to my classroom where there is only 1 potty. Usually very clean. Not so today. Someone had left me a present on the throne. It looked like the guy had diarrhea but changed his mind after the first wave of the runs. I quickly raced out of there waving both arms in the air like I had just seen a ghost. I went down the hall to the next available washroom. Entered, almost certain that this one would be clean. Again only one toilet in the washroom. To my utter dismay, someone was again very kind in leaving me a nice little present in the toilet. This person looked like they had hershey kisses for lunch but wasn't able to digest them. Yummy (no more hershey kisses for me). I quickly left before anyone entered the washroom and thought that was my doing. I ran upstairs to the 3rd washroom in the area. A little apprehensive this time, I walked in like I was about to defuse a landmine. Guess what was waiting for me in the toilet? A landmine!! I wasn't about to diffuse it but I was about to curse like I've never cursed before. "Fuck!?!...Why god??...whyyyyyy?"
Mental Interlude
After unsuccessfully locating a clean toilet anywhere. I really started wondering whether I should just use the women's washroom. It's a friday, and it's late in the afternoon, no one would notice. It took me 10 seconds to decide this. I headed back to the washrooms closest to my classroom. Peering around corners to make sure no one was around. I entered the washroom like I was about to rob a bank. I walked in pretending I was just there to make an innocent deposit. Luckily for me no one was in there. That was when my bubble was somewhat deflated. There was no glow (thank god cuz I forgot my sunglasses). The toilet did look pretty clean but not quite glimmering like new porcelain. There was 3 toilet however!! I suppose since they didn't have any use for urinals they added a few extra toilets. The first one I checked had no poop in it!
I sat down and went about my business with almost an unnatural calm. Even if someone had entered I would be in the safety of my stall. My fortress of solitude! However my calm turned into panic when I remembered that my school had cameras everywhere. I'm in the technology building on campus where they keep millions of dollars worth of equipment. They have security tighter than the pentagon here! After realizing this I did my business as quickly as I possibly could. The toilet paper wasn't 10-ply. Utter disappointment. I quickly wiped my ass and headed towards the door. The toilets are automatic at my school so as soon as you're done they flush. I imagine that they have some sort of sensor that detects the rustling sound of pants being pulled up. The toilet didn't flush this time. I was like, "What the f!#@?". Realizing that I was contributing to my own hatred of public washrooms (I also didn't want to leave any evidence) I was terribly distraught but under the predicament that I was in, being in the women's washroom, I really had no time to sit and consider my other options. Besides, I couldn't be held accountable. I left as fast as I could. Wash my hands? That would be too risky. I headed straight out without even wondering if anyone was out there. Again I was lucky, no one was around. I quickly entered the men's washroom and washed my hands. Before I did however I then noticed a sign on the door. "WASHROOMS WILL BE UNAVAILABLE AUGUST 9TH. THEY WILL BE SERVICED AND TOILETS WILL NOT FLUSH." Wondering why I didn't notice that sign before and surprised that they didn't lock the washrooms I felt like such a moron. I was also actually quite surprised I was even able to find a toilet in the building so clean. Maybe there is something magical about women's washrooms and maybe there IS a magical waterfall that takes women's waste to poo-poo heaven.
For the longest time I have always hated public washrooms. Just the thought of sharing something so sacred as a toilet with thousands of other people thoroughly disgusts me. At home you share a washroom with family members. People you can trust. Often you're sharing several washrooms with several family members. If there are any accidents in the washroom you can probably narrow it down to a select few people. Take for instance my home. If there is any pee-pee on the seats of the toilets, you could point fingers at either my dad or I. Easier to figure out the culprit of a crime if there's a small handful of suspects. People know they are accountable for their actions and they clean up appropriately.
Not the case with public washrooms. You're sharing toilets with hundreds, maybe thousands of people. People who don't have the same accountability because it isn't their washroom. They know a janitor will clean it up for them. I've walked into thousands of washrooms where people have missed the toilet so badly you would have thought Stevie Wonder had just used it. I apologize to any blind people who may be reading this and feel that they are unjustly singled out as people who lack washroom etiquette. I am merely making a crass analogy to better illustrate my point.
Today was one of those days where I needed to use the washroom badly after a good and bad meal at Burger King (I swear they put laxatives in burgers). I walked into the washroom next to my classroom where there is only 1 potty. Usually very clean. Not so today. Someone had left me a present on the throne. It looked like the guy had diarrhea but changed his mind after the first wave of the runs. I quickly raced out of there waving both arms in the air like I had just seen a ghost. I went down the hall to the next available washroom. Entered, almost certain that this one would be clean. Again only one toilet in the washroom. To my utter dismay, someone was again very kind in leaving me a nice little present in the toilet. This person looked like they had hershey kisses for lunch but wasn't able to digest them. Yummy (no more hershey kisses for me). I quickly left before anyone entered the washroom and thought that was my doing. I ran upstairs to the 3rd washroom in the area. A little apprehensive this time, I walked in like I was about to defuse a landmine. Guess what was waiting for me in the toilet? A landmine!! I wasn't about to diffuse it but I was about to curse like I've never cursed before. "Fuck!?!...Why god??...whyyyyyy?"
Mental Interlude
I began to think back at how many times I have encountered this situation. Never have I encountered 3 straight bathrooms being like this. Men are filthy I tell you. Have you ever seen our washrooms at a club? The sinks are cluttered with paper towels. The toilets have piss all over the seats. Occasionally you see a trail of shit on the seat like the turd was holding onto the edge and couldn't hold on any longer, sliding into the abyss. Filthy I tell you.
Women's bathrooms on the otherhand, I imagine is this immaculate place where the glow of the room nearly blinds your eyes. People have to walk in with shades to keep from going blind. The toilets glimmer like brand new porcelain. Like they have never seen feces in their entire lifetime. After the women finish the waste magically disappears down a beautiful waterfall where it lands in poo-poo heaven. The toilet paper is probably 10-ply and plush like the fur of a newborn polar bear. There is a nice lounge after you finish pooping where people discuss the wonderful experience they just had (after they wash their hands of course). I've always wondered what it would be like to be in the women's washroom.
After unsuccessfully locating a clean toilet anywhere. I really started wondering whether I should just use the women's washroom. It's a friday, and it's late in the afternoon, no one would notice. It took me 10 seconds to decide this. I headed back to the washrooms closest to my classroom. Peering around corners to make sure no one was around. I entered the washroom like I was about to rob a bank. I walked in pretending I was just there to make an innocent deposit. Luckily for me no one was in there. That was when my bubble was somewhat deflated. There was no glow (thank god cuz I forgot my sunglasses). The toilet did look pretty clean but not quite glimmering like new porcelain. There was 3 toilet however!! I suppose since they didn't have any use for urinals they added a few extra toilets. The first one I checked had no poop in it!
I sat down and went about my business with almost an unnatural calm. Even if someone had entered I would be in the safety of my stall. My fortress of solitude! However my calm turned into panic when I remembered that my school had cameras everywhere. I'm in the technology building on campus where they keep millions of dollars worth of equipment. They have security tighter than the pentagon here! After realizing this I did my business as quickly as I possibly could. The toilet paper wasn't 10-ply. Utter disappointment. I quickly wiped my ass and headed towards the door. The toilets are automatic at my school so as soon as you're done they flush. I imagine that they have some sort of sensor that detects the rustling sound of pants being pulled up. The toilet didn't flush this time. I was like, "What the f!#@?". Realizing that I was contributing to my own hatred of public washrooms (I also didn't want to leave any evidence) I was terribly distraught but under the predicament that I was in, being in the women's washroom, I really had no time to sit and consider my other options. Besides, I couldn't be held accountable. I left as fast as I could. Wash my hands? That would be too risky. I headed straight out without even wondering if anyone was out there. Again I was lucky, no one was around. I quickly entered the men's washroom and washed my hands. Before I did however I then noticed a sign on the door. "WASHROOMS WILL BE UNAVAILABLE AUGUST 9TH. THEY WILL BE SERVICED AND TOILETS WILL NOT FLUSH." Wondering why I didn't notice that sign before and surprised that they didn't lock the washrooms I felt like such a moron. I was also actually quite surprised I was even able to find a toilet in the building so clean. Maybe there is something magical about women's washrooms and maybe there IS a magical waterfall that takes women's waste to poo-poo heaven.
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
My latest idea...
I was thinking of creating a short story with characters based on my own friends. While keeping the true identity of the characters a mystery (which might be very difficult given the fact I'd have to back up personality claims with actions that might be obvious and transparent to the real life characters and friends), I want to do a simple survey to see if my friends could determine which character represented which friend and which character represented themselves. I've long hypothesized that everyone is completely delusional when it comes to themselves and people around them. Who we think we are is influenced by our own conscience and ego among other things. Who we think other's are is often misguided by things, to name a few, such as resentment, passive aggression, and a general failure to understand the meaning behind people's actions. My curiosity is more or less about who's is more deluded. Yourself or the people around you.
Generally the first part of the survey will see if there's a consensus among our peers in terms of whether or not they can relate a certain character with the fleshy real-life personality. In which case it will show either a consistency or inconsistency in perception of a person's personality among peers. I'm hypothesizing that there's a consistency. The second part of the survey will see if the person can identify themselves in the story. In which case this will show a consistency or inconsistency in whether or not the person agrees with my (and others if the first part shows a consensus) perception of them. I'm hypothesizing that most people won't be able to identify themselves in the story (assuming I make the story not-so obvious). This shows that the person has a different perception of who they really are compared to their friend's perceptions.
So what? Even though it might be painfully obvious that our perceptions of ourselves sometimes differ greatly from our friend's perceptions of us, it might not be obvious that our friends may have a consensus in their perception of us and that more often than not this is the case. I'm wondering if I just lost everyone. I'll pretend I didn't.
Now thinking this experiment over again, I don't think I can really prove that one person or a group of people is more deluded than the other in terms of personality characterization. However, it poses a new question for each individual in terms of whether or not they've been misunderstood all these years.
Stay tuned! This is a work in progress.
Note : I understand this may seem somewhat of a simple/unrefined experiment (given my lack of intelligence and time) and maybe there may be no correlation in the results and my conclusions but I think if anything it poses a few more interesting questions, no?
I was thinking of creating a short story with characters based on my own friends. While keeping the true identity of the characters a mystery (which might be very difficult given the fact I'd have to back up personality claims with actions that might be obvious and transparent to the real life characters and friends), I want to do a simple survey to see if my friends could determine which character represented which friend and which character represented themselves. I've long hypothesized that everyone is completely delusional when it comes to themselves and people around them. Who we think we are is influenced by our own conscience and ego among other things. Who we think other's are is often misguided by things, to name a few, such as resentment, passive aggression, and a general failure to understand the meaning behind people's actions. My curiosity is more or less about who's is more deluded. Yourself or the people around you.
Generally the first part of the survey will see if there's a consensus among our peers in terms of whether or not they can relate a certain character with the fleshy real-life personality. In which case it will show either a consistency or inconsistency in perception of a person's personality among peers. I'm hypothesizing that there's a consistency. The second part of the survey will see if the person can identify themselves in the story. In which case this will show a consistency or inconsistency in whether or not the person agrees with my (and others if the first part shows a consensus) perception of them. I'm hypothesizing that most people won't be able to identify themselves in the story (assuming I make the story not-so obvious). This shows that the person has a different perception of who they really are compared to their friend's perceptions.
So what? Even though it might be painfully obvious that our perceptions of ourselves sometimes differ greatly from our friend's perceptions of us, it might not be obvious that our friends may have a consensus in their perception of us and that more often than not this is the case. I'm wondering if I just lost everyone. I'll pretend I didn't.
Now thinking this experiment over again, I don't think I can really prove that one person or a group of people is more deluded than the other in terms of personality characterization. However, it poses a new question for each individual in terms of whether or not they've been misunderstood all these years.
Stay tuned! This is a work in progress.
Note : I understand this may seem somewhat of a simple/unrefined experiment (given my lack of intelligence and time) and maybe there may be no correlation in the results and my conclusions but I think if anything it poses a few more interesting questions, no?
Monday, August 05, 2002
I used to write with with lots of "..." to represent short breaths I might take mentally...end of sentences...commas even...I think I did this for several reasons...1) I didn't have to consider punctuation as much which is always a nice little vacation for my feeble mind...2) It was different...I like different...I long to be different...and yet still revered as the ridiculously goodlooking and charming man that I am...and 3) I hate writing with structure...I like fragmented sentences...talking in the passive tense...starting sentences with "but"...it shows the real me...someone who's not so concerned about the structure of writing but the thought process. However well I meant, I think I've lost credibility in my writing and have made it somewhat taxing for people to read. I guess they're right when they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Starting today I will be retiring my "..." and using regular punctuation in a sad attempt to win your love. I'm not compromising the art so much as realizing that being different sometimes isn't the be-all and do-all. My thought process hasn't changed. My writing hasn't changed. The presentation however is now more or less in the de facto structure that everyone is familiar with. I will however still use lots of fragmented sentences and start sentences with "and" or "but" wherever the hell I please. Maybe one day I'll retire them as well. Does all this really matter?
Surreal compliments of the day -
1) "I would beg to see your arms raised in calcification towards the expanding horizon as the minutemen stand before me with their phallic gums aimed and loaded.. "
2) "Seven donkeys and a concubine cannot compare with the tarnished sheen left in your path of combustion."
3) "You have the vocabulary of an aspidistra in panic."
4) "Cry for the stiffness of the earlobe. The turtles are fallen and the rain stands still. How long must I suffer with your undergarments?" (is this really a compliment?)
5) "Your nasal hair speaks volumes concerning the Isle of Wright."
Forget existentialism and realism. I want to be a surrealist. The internet. Good times.
1) "I would beg to see your arms raised in calcification towards the expanding horizon as the minutemen stand before me with their phallic gums aimed and loaded.. "
2) "Seven donkeys and a concubine cannot compare with the tarnished sheen left in your path of combustion."
3) "You have the vocabulary of an aspidistra in panic."
4) "Cry for the stiffness of the earlobe. The turtles are fallen and the rain stands still. How long must I suffer with your undergarments?" (is this really a compliment?)
5) "Your nasal hair speaks volumes concerning the Isle of Wright."
Forget existentialism and realism. I want to be a surrealist. The internet. Good times.
Friday, August 02, 2002
Pipe Dreams
I took the day off of school today. Only missed one class and 2 chapters behind. All things considered that isn't too bad. Motivation this semester has been really hard to come by. Realizing that I'll be done school in 2 short weeks has made me quite lax and lazy. I'm like that long distance runner that is about to approach the finish line but realizes that there is no medal for placing 10th. There isn't even anyone waiting for me at the finish line with a glass of water in hand. Water would be good right now.
I miss having days to myself. Days where I can enjoy my own freedom from the daily grind of school or work. Days when I can wake up without the alarm clock rudely interrupting a lucid dream. A dream about one day possibly owning a large fleet of wing trucks selling wings and pretzels to the good citizens of suburbia. Alarm clocks must hate what they symbolize. The modern day bubble-burster.
On these days I imagine I'd wake up around 10am and make myself a nice breakfast with eggs, sausage, bacon, and a waffle with all the great fruit toppings. Food is one of those finer things in life I've never really had the time to appreciate. I've always been in a hurry to eat. My life is one big take-out or drive-through. It'd be nice to eat breakfast with little regard to time and appointments. Possibly sharing breakfast with someone for a change but then that would be wishful thinking at the pace I'm going. I’m not fond of pre-hatched chickens. Nor do I enjoy counting them.
The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon might be spent at some trendy coffee shop with a patio where I could read my book while sipping on some sort of refreshing alcoholic beverage. Alizé and orange juice come to mind even though I rarely drink it. Malibu and pineapple juice is really good too though some may consider it a "girly drink". I suppose if I was comfortable in my own skin and wasn't so insecure about my own masculinity that wouldn't matter. Let's pretend I am. I'd sip and read, and sip and read. The only thing that would make this more ideal involves a tropical beach and hula girls shaking their hips. But then again I doubt I'd still be reading.
Maybe a nice girl would come by the patio and comment on the book I was reading. We'd start a discussion about the hidden meaning behind why the protagonist in the book wanted to own a pet monkey. I'd proclaim, “The monkey represented his ID and fulfilling his most primitive desire!” Everyone desires a pet monkey, they are either too afraid to admit it or they just don't realize it. The girl would heartily disagree and tell me that the protagonist was just eccentric and was a lonely child who needed companionship that wasn't offered from his siblings Jermaine, LaToya, and Janet. After exhausting all my pretentiousness in the conversation we'd leave the coffee shop hoping we'd bump into one another again for another rivoting discussion about monkeys somewhere in the future.
In the afternoon a walk down Queen Street with my girlfriend to do some cd shopping or clothes shopping would be nice. Yes, I think we'd like that a lot. I don't shop often. A combination of not caring how I look and not having the money to care how I look. It would be sunny and 25 degrees outside with a slight breeze during the day. She'd buy something trendy but unique at some of the boutiques along the way. I'd suggest the more revealing stuff half jokingly and she'd give me an endearing, "I'm not that type of girl" response. I'm glad she's not that type of girl. It's nice to have principles. Even if the principles keep your significant other from being the pervert that he really is. I respect that in a woman.
Along the way we might stop and have a few Toronto hotdogs from some of the sidewalk vendors. Street meat as we call it here in Toronto, is quite scrumptious if you put thoughts of what they’re made of aside. Inevitably I'd spill some mustard on my white t-shirt and end up being self-conscious for the rest of the afternoon. For the sake of keeping it a pleasant afternoon we'll say I wore a yellow shirt and the mustard was hardly noticeable (though the colour of my shirt would be). I would also make it a note not to tell anyone about my accident in fear they might call me "mustard face". Name calling never sat well with me but I suppose I'm somewhat used to it with my group of sardonic friends.
A rousing afternoon of answering "Do these pants make my ass look fat?” would definitely work up my appetite. We’d have to retire to a relaxing evening inside with a home cooked dinner. My girlfriend is a food connoisseur and though I'd be tempted to try some of her gourmet foie gras, I think wings would suit a day like this much better. (Wings have always held a special place in my heart. If you could figuratively open up my heart you’d see my girlfriend in the center, sports just below that, music off to the side somewhere, and wings right next to the clogged artery.) I’m probably the least romantic person on the face of the Earth so I don’t think a candle light dinner and romantic music make for a special night at all. I’d be more inclined to having a normal dinner with good food, maybe the basketball game or buffy the vampire slayer on tv, and a nice conversation. A conversation while the game is on the tube you ask? I know it sounds absurd but let’s just let it go for the sake of delusion.
After dinner and several bottles of wine I’m sure she’d be begging for me to take her…and HARD (as if there was any other way). Likewise with all that wing sauce on her face it would be HARD for me to resist my animal sex urges. Ok, maybe we might not have animal sex per se but I’d be happy with something between passionate human sex and animal in heat sex.
Do you ever feel guilty about liking sex so much? Or about being a little easy? Sex is too often made a moral issue in today’s society and it's not always necessary. It’s not just about hedonistic pleasures but also about self-discovery. Everyone has a right to understand and explore his or her own sexuality. Sexual compatibility is one of many things that determine how successful a marriage/relationship will be. Love after all, is not one-dimensional. It is both physical and emotional. It'd be nice if we could strip the pretenses that come with the word “sex”. Til then, have fun and play safe.
I know this day might not have sounded exciting to everyone but it sure would have been a great day for me. Everyone deserves to have days like this. Life is too often wasted away with work and responsibilities. Take a day off and enjoy yourself!! Tell your boss Shaky told you to. If you end up getting fired, don’t fret. You’ll just have more days like this to enjoy!
I took the day off of school today. Only missed one class and 2 chapters behind. All things considered that isn't too bad. Motivation this semester has been really hard to come by. Realizing that I'll be done school in 2 short weeks has made me quite lax and lazy. I'm like that long distance runner that is about to approach the finish line but realizes that there is no medal for placing 10th. There isn't even anyone waiting for me at the finish line with a glass of water in hand. Water would be good right now.
I miss having days to myself. Days where I can enjoy my own freedom from the daily grind of school or work. Days when I can wake up without the alarm clock rudely interrupting a lucid dream. A dream about one day possibly owning a large fleet of wing trucks selling wings and pretzels to the good citizens of suburbia. Alarm clocks must hate what they symbolize. The modern day bubble-burster.
On these days I imagine I'd wake up around 10am and make myself a nice breakfast with eggs, sausage, bacon, and a waffle with all the great fruit toppings. Food is one of those finer things in life I've never really had the time to appreciate. I've always been in a hurry to eat. My life is one big take-out or drive-through. It'd be nice to eat breakfast with little regard to time and appointments. Possibly sharing breakfast with someone for a change but then that would be wishful thinking at the pace I'm going. I’m not fond of pre-hatched chickens. Nor do I enjoy counting them.
The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon might be spent at some trendy coffee shop with a patio where I could read my book while sipping on some sort of refreshing alcoholic beverage. Alizé and orange juice come to mind even though I rarely drink it. Malibu and pineapple juice is really good too though some may consider it a "girly drink". I suppose if I was comfortable in my own skin and wasn't so insecure about my own masculinity that wouldn't matter. Let's pretend I am. I'd sip and read, and sip and read. The only thing that would make this more ideal involves a tropical beach and hula girls shaking their hips. But then again I doubt I'd still be reading.
Maybe a nice girl would come by the patio and comment on the book I was reading. We'd start a discussion about the hidden meaning behind why the protagonist in the book wanted to own a pet monkey. I'd proclaim, “The monkey represented his ID and fulfilling his most primitive desire!” Everyone desires a pet monkey, they are either too afraid to admit it or they just don't realize it. The girl would heartily disagree and tell me that the protagonist was just eccentric and was a lonely child who needed companionship that wasn't offered from his siblings Jermaine, LaToya, and Janet. After exhausting all my pretentiousness in the conversation we'd leave the coffee shop hoping we'd bump into one another again for another rivoting discussion about monkeys somewhere in the future.
In the afternoon a walk down Queen Street with my girlfriend to do some cd shopping or clothes shopping would be nice. Yes, I think we'd like that a lot. I don't shop often. A combination of not caring how I look and not having the money to care how I look. It would be sunny and 25 degrees outside with a slight breeze during the day. She'd buy something trendy but unique at some of the boutiques along the way. I'd suggest the more revealing stuff half jokingly and she'd give me an endearing, "I'm not that type of girl" response. I'm glad she's not that type of girl. It's nice to have principles. Even if the principles keep your significant other from being the pervert that he really is. I respect that in a woman.
Along the way we might stop and have a few Toronto hotdogs from some of the sidewalk vendors. Street meat as we call it here in Toronto, is quite scrumptious if you put thoughts of what they’re made of aside. Inevitably I'd spill some mustard on my white t-shirt and end up being self-conscious for the rest of the afternoon. For the sake of keeping it a pleasant afternoon we'll say I wore a yellow shirt and the mustard was hardly noticeable (though the colour of my shirt would be). I would also make it a note not to tell anyone about my accident in fear they might call me "mustard face". Name calling never sat well with me but I suppose I'm somewhat used to it with my group of sardonic friends.
A rousing afternoon of answering "Do these pants make my ass look fat?” would definitely work up my appetite. We’d have to retire to a relaxing evening inside with a home cooked dinner. My girlfriend is a food connoisseur and though I'd be tempted to try some of her gourmet foie gras, I think wings would suit a day like this much better. (Wings have always held a special place in my heart. If you could figuratively open up my heart you’d see my girlfriend in the center, sports just below that, music off to the side somewhere, and wings right next to the clogged artery.) I’m probably the least romantic person on the face of the Earth so I don’t think a candle light dinner and romantic music make for a special night at all. I’d be more inclined to having a normal dinner with good food, maybe the basketball game or buffy the vampire slayer on tv, and a nice conversation. A conversation while the game is on the tube you ask? I know it sounds absurd but let’s just let it go for the sake of delusion.
After dinner and several bottles of wine I’m sure she’d be begging for me to take her…and HARD (as if there was any other way). Likewise with all that wing sauce on her face it would be HARD for me to resist my animal sex urges. Ok, maybe we might not have animal sex per se but I’d be happy with something between passionate human sex and animal in heat sex.
Do you ever feel guilty about liking sex so much? Or about being a little easy? Sex is too often made a moral issue in today’s society and it's not always necessary. It’s not just about hedonistic pleasures but also about self-discovery. Everyone has a right to understand and explore his or her own sexuality. Sexual compatibility is one of many things that determine how successful a marriage/relationship will be. Love after all, is not one-dimensional. It is both physical and emotional. It'd be nice if we could strip the pretenses that come with the word “sex”. Til then, have fun and play safe.
I know this day might not have sounded exciting to everyone but it sure would have been a great day for me. Everyone deserves to have days like this. Life is too often wasted away with work and responsibilities. Take a day off and enjoy yourself!! Tell your boss Shaky told you to. If you end up getting fired, don’t fret. You’ll just have more days like this to enjoy!
I was a short fuse
Burning all the time
You were a complete stranger
Now you are mine
I would like a place I could call my own
Have a conversation on the telephone
Wake up every day that would be a start
I would not complain about my wounded heart
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
A day in the life of Jake...
6:30am
My alarm sounded at 5am this morning. Set a little earlier than usual. More often than not, when my alarm is set at such an absurd hour I am waking up to do last minute cramming before a test. This was the case today. The test covered 13 chapters in Oracle's latest and greatest Oracle Forms book. I had managed to read 10 chapters before I fell asleep. I started to read again at a maddening pace before I had to get ready to leave. I shower, dress, brush my teeth, and gel my hair. I take note that my hair is getting rather long and maybe I should get a haircut tonight. I don't take long with my hair...maybe 3 minutes at most. As long as my hair is somewhat presentable I'm happy. After the gel in my hair sets there's really no going back regardless of whether I think it looks ok or not anyway. My girlfriend once told me I had hair with principles. Once gelled it will not "bend or compromise for anyone". I suppose anyone's hair has principles if they're using DEP gel, level 8 - ultimate hold.
7:30am
As I sit on the curb of the street still reading my textbook, Tom arrives to pick me up in his rather clean black civic. I think to myself, "Tom takes rather good care of his car and is generally a very organized person. Women are generally very organized and clean." Fully aware of my sexist thoughts I mentally spank myself and promise never to think that way again. As I get into the car I notice Tom sporting a new haircut. It looked pretty good and I proceed to mentally spank Tom. We exchange our morning, "wasssssssup" (mental note: it is no longer cool to say that, please erase from vocabulary). What ensues is a 30 minute car ride that has more awkward silences than being stuck in an elevator with my bitter and spiteful ex-girlfriend. Why Tom and I have never "clicked" in terms of conversation I will never figure out. Too often our conversations are stranded in smalltalkville followed by awkward silence where both of us are trying to pretend to listen to the oh-so-entertaining radio disc jockeys. Maybe in some past life I violated our friendship and slept with his sister, or vice versa. Ok...maybe not vice versa. Bad thoughts, bad, bad thoughts.
7:55am
I arrive in class with an hour and a half before test time. The class is as usual fricken freezing. My nipples harden and I try to refrain from touching them (I am kidding). I see Lisane, a french student and Microsoft Access wizard. I promptly say, "Hi, how's the studying going?" She answers back with her usual french accent, "Bleh, I'm a bit concerned but I don't care anymore." I look across and I see Cyrus. He's my arch nemesis. Forty plus year old Iranian man who's very voice, laughter, and presence drives me to the brink of insanity. He is about 5'7", has a very large nose like the proboscis monkey, bad skin, and slouches. I know these facts because I categorize them in my database of nemesissss (shouldn't the plural form of nemesis be nemesi?...I digress) like any smart superhero would do. What is a nemesis? No, not just a bad guy/girl. A nemesis is your own personal bad guy/girl whom you view it as your mission to defeat on a consistent basis. The very nature of the nemesis though gives them power over you and you may often find yourself at a disadvantage. This is the case with Cyrus. I find that his voice and his laughter weakens my spirit and dulls my humanity. I don't say "Hi" to my arch nemesis. We know where we stand. Our story goes back a few months but that is neither here or there (well maybe a little bit "there"). I shall explain another day. All you need know is that each time I see him, I want to hurl my laptop across the room at his nose.
I sit down and continue reading. I am now on chapter 12 and the hour of my impending doom is fast approaching. I have an almost unnerving calm about the test. Like a man who's been sick for a long time and has seen the degeneration of his body but has fully accepted his fate. Wow...that analogy sounded a lot more morbid than I had intended.
8:15am
I have resigned to the fact that I will not finish chapter 13. I log onto MSN and start reading today's sports news on ESPN.COM. This is the site I frequent the most throughout a day. I cannot get enough of sporting news. On any given day I may read possibly a novel's worth of sporting news. Do I retain a lot of what I read and do I have steadfast and brilliant opinions on the state of today's sports world? Not really but it amuses me immensely. I read sports because I am genuinely interested in it and I have a passion for it. I also have a competitive fire that motivates me to try and improve my life, my personality, and my game, whatever that may be. Today's game is to see how long and boring I can make this blog entry. I think I've already succeeded but I press on.
9:30am
Test is about to begin. Good times. Reading the first few questions I soon realize I'm screwed, at least for the theory part of the test. Out of 25 multiple choice questions I confidently answered 10. "Bell curve" passes through my feeble mind but as the Japanese would say "Shoganai" (ah well). I start the practical. It's much easier. I think it might even make up for my lacklustre performance on the previous section.
11:55am
I'm the first to hand in my test. I don't know if that's good or bad but it's done.
12:45pm
Dropped off by my friend Ron back at home. My grandmother asked me to take her grocery shopping. While at the grocery store she starts telling me how fruit and vegetable prices in California are so cheap. Going into each fruit's exact price and the difference in price painstakingly so. She's a cute little lady who likes to ramble a lot. This is possibly where I got my rambling skills from. As we pass the junk food aisle she asks me if I want anything. She goes into a story about how at age 3-4, I would come over to her house in Vietnam and ask her for candy. I think she misses that. I don't ask her for candy anymore. I contemplate possibly buying all the candy and chips in the entire aisle just to make an old lady happy...ok...maybe to make myself happy. "mmmmmmmm...Party Mix!"
2:30pm
After returning home and putting away the groceries I turn on my laptop. I get an email from Miss Tracy Ho about writing a chain story where each person contributes 1 paragraph to the story and sends it to everyone on the list. This turns out to be my afternoon entertainment. The story was about a poor sap named Gary(<--- Go ahead...click it...I know you're dying to) and his adventures with some lard err...large lady. I pity the fool. The story was quite rivoting and at times I couldn't distinguish fact from fiction. What I got from the story was this...the protagonist Gary struggled with his drinking habits as well as the possibility of falling in love with a woman nearly twice his size (I believe there's a reggae song about this story -- "I'm in love with a woman nearly twice my size"). In the end falling in love with this woman drove him even closer to the bottle and he ended up realizing that the bottle and the woman were actually ONE and the SAME. Both were desperate cries for help and temporary fixes to his issues of unrequited love. Ok...maybe I'm making this all up but it does make for a interesting read, no?
5:30pm
Love stories make me sleepy and I was spent. Nap time.
7:15pm
Was rudely woken up by my grandmother cursing about how every time she calls my mom's cell phone she gets some "Canadian" lady speaking in English. She wakes me up to help her re-dial the number just in case she dialed it wrong. I dial away and after many rings I get this "Canadian" lady's voice message, "I am unable to pick up the phone right now. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and I will get back to you as soon as possible." This lady was MY MOM. I then annoyingly explain to my grandmother that it was her daughter's voice mail. She walks away almost as unamused as I was. I try and get back to sleep. No luck. I then do a bit of surfing online and decided to write in my blog about my interesting day. In retrospect it wasn't so interesting. After this I think I'll attempt to do some homework.
9pm-12:30am
Homework...very mundane.
12:45am
An anticlimactic ending to an anticlimactic day...zzzzzzzzzz.
1:50am
Bahhh...I lied...got caught up in a conversation on msn...still awake ='(
6:30am
My alarm sounded at 5am this morning. Set a little earlier than usual. More often than not, when my alarm is set at such an absurd hour I am waking up to do last minute cramming before a test. This was the case today. The test covered 13 chapters in Oracle's latest and greatest Oracle Forms book. I had managed to read 10 chapters before I fell asleep. I started to read again at a maddening pace before I had to get ready to leave. I shower, dress, brush my teeth, and gel my hair. I take note that my hair is getting rather long and maybe I should get a haircut tonight. I don't take long with my hair...maybe 3 minutes at most. As long as my hair is somewhat presentable I'm happy. After the gel in my hair sets there's really no going back regardless of whether I think it looks ok or not anyway. My girlfriend once told me I had hair with principles. Once gelled it will not "bend or compromise for anyone". I suppose anyone's hair has principles if they're using DEP gel, level 8 - ultimate hold.
7:30am
As I sit on the curb of the street still reading my textbook, Tom arrives to pick me up in his rather clean black civic. I think to myself, "Tom takes rather good care of his car and is generally a very organized person. Women are generally very organized and clean." Fully aware of my sexist thoughts I mentally spank myself and promise never to think that way again. As I get into the car I notice Tom sporting a new haircut. It looked pretty good and I proceed to mentally spank Tom. We exchange our morning, "wasssssssup" (mental note: it is no longer cool to say that, please erase from vocabulary). What ensues is a 30 minute car ride that has more awkward silences than being stuck in an elevator with my bitter and spiteful ex-girlfriend. Why Tom and I have never "clicked" in terms of conversation I will never figure out. Too often our conversations are stranded in smalltalkville followed by awkward silence where both of us are trying to pretend to listen to the oh-so-entertaining radio disc jockeys. Maybe in some past life I violated our friendship and slept with his sister, or vice versa. Ok...maybe not vice versa. Bad thoughts, bad, bad thoughts.
7:55am
I arrive in class with an hour and a half before test time. The class is as usual fricken freezing. My nipples harden and I try to refrain from touching them (I am kidding). I see Lisane, a french student and Microsoft Access wizard. I promptly say, "Hi, how's the studying going?" She answers back with her usual french accent, "Bleh, I'm a bit concerned but I don't care anymore." I look across and I see Cyrus. He's my arch nemesis. Forty plus year old Iranian man who's very voice, laughter, and presence drives me to the brink of insanity. He is about 5'7", has a very large nose like the proboscis monkey, bad skin, and slouches. I know these facts because I categorize them in my database of nemesissss (shouldn't the plural form of nemesis be nemesi?...I digress) like any smart superhero would do. What is a nemesis? No, not just a bad guy/girl. A nemesis is your own personal bad guy/girl whom you view it as your mission to defeat on a consistent basis. The very nature of the nemesis though gives them power over you and you may often find yourself at a disadvantage. This is the case with Cyrus. I find that his voice and his laughter weakens my spirit and dulls my humanity. I don't say "Hi" to my arch nemesis. We know where we stand. Our story goes back a few months but that is neither here or there (well maybe a little bit "there"). I shall explain another day. All you need know is that each time I see him, I want to hurl my laptop across the room at his nose.
I sit down and continue reading. I am now on chapter 12 and the hour of my impending doom is fast approaching. I have an almost unnerving calm about the test. Like a man who's been sick for a long time and has seen the degeneration of his body but has fully accepted his fate. Wow...that analogy sounded a lot more morbid than I had intended.
8:15am
I have resigned to the fact that I will not finish chapter 13. I log onto MSN and start reading today's sports news on ESPN.COM. This is the site I frequent the most throughout a day. I cannot get enough of sporting news. On any given day I may read possibly a novel's worth of sporting news. Do I retain a lot of what I read and do I have steadfast and brilliant opinions on the state of today's sports world? Not really but it amuses me immensely. I read sports because I am genuinely interested in it and I have a passion for it. I also have a competitive fire that motivates me to try and improve my life, my personality, and my game, whatever that may be. Today's game is to see how long and boring I can make this blog entry. I think I've already succeeded but I press on.
9:30am
Test is about to begin. Good times. Reading the first few questions I soon realize I'm screwed, at least for the theory part of the test. Out of 25 multiple choice questions I confidently answered 10. "Bell curve" passes through my feeble mind but as the Japanese would say "Shoganai" (ah well). I start the practical. It's much easier. I think it might even make up for my lacklustre performance on the previous section.
11:55am
I'm the first to hand in my test. I don't know if that's good or bad but it's done.
12:45pm
Dropped off by my friend Ron back at home. My grandmother asked me to take her grocery shopping. While at the grocery store she starts telling me how fruit and vegetable prices in California are so cheap. Going into each fruit's exact price and the difference in price painstakingly so. She's a cute little lady who likes to ramble a lot. This is possibly where I got my rambling skills from. As we pass the junk food aisle she asks me if I want anything. She goes into a story about how at age 3-4, I would come over to her house in Vietnam and ask her for candy. I think she misses that. I don't ask her for candy anymore. I contemplate possibly buying all the candy and chips in the entire aisle just to make an old lady happy...ok...maybe to make myself happy. "mmmmmmmm...Party Mix!"
2:30pm
After returning home and putting away the groceries I turn on my laptop. I get an email from Miss Tracy Ho about writing a chain story where each person contributes 1 paragraph to the story and sends it to everyone on the list. This turns out to be my afternoon entertainment. The story was about a poor sap named Gary(<--- Go ahead...click it...I know you're dying to) and his adventures with some lard err...large lady. I pity the fool. The story was quite rivoting and at times I couldn't distinguish fact from fiction. What I got from the story was this...the protagonist Gary struggled with his drinking habits as well as the possibility of falling in love with a woman nearly twice his size (I believe there's a reggae song about this story -- "I'm in love with a woman nearly twice my size"). In the end falling in love with this woman drove him even closer to the bottle and he ended up realizing that the bottle and the woman were actually ONE and the SAME. Both were desperate cries for help and temporary fixes to his issues of unrequited love. Ok...maybe I'm making this all up but it does make for a interesting read, no?
5:30pm
Love stories make me sleepy and I was spent. Nap time.
7:15pm
Was rudely woken up by my grandmother cursing about how every time she calls my mom's cell phone she gets some "Canadian" lady speaking in English. She wakes me up to help her re-dial the number just in case she dialed it wrong. I dial away and after many rings I get this "Canadian" lady's voice message, "I am unable to pick up the phone right now. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message and I will get back to you as soon as possible." This lady was MY MOM. I then annoyingly explain to my grandmother that it was her daughter's voice mail. She walks away almost as unamused as I was. I try and get back to sleep. No luck. I then do a bit of surfing online and decided to write in my blog about my interesting day. In retrospect it wasn't so interesting. After this I think I'll attempt to do some homework.
9pm-12:30am
Homework...very mundane.
12:45am
An anticlimactic ending to an anticlimactic day...zzzzzzzzzz.
1:50am
Bahhh...I lied...got caught up in a conversation on msn...still awake ='(
Monday, July 29, 2002
How was everyone's weekend? Attended my first "friend" wedding this past weekend and had a very nice time. The newly weds were Keith and Dominique. They looked amazing together and the night was very entertaining. The atmosphere was totally different from what I had expected. The weddings I've attended in the past with relatives seem much more tamer in retrospect. Maybe it's just my friends. They were all drinking up a storm and toasting the bride/groom/groomsmen/bridesmaids left and right. Before the night was over the best man puked in a large bowl that used for shark fin soup earlier in the night (after he puked on his gf's bridesmaid dress). Thank goodness most of the elders and parents had left before that time. I think my wedding will have to separate the "after party" from the actual reception. The reception itself I think should be classier and be more for the relatives. The after party will be for my friends =D
All in all I had a great time and I hope some of my other friends start planning for weddings soon...hehe...
...
British term of the day...
jake - n. Proud monument erected in the memory of a nice pair of knockers you once saw, or a notable scene from a blue movie.
Sample sentence : Shaky got a Jake when he saw Kimmie after so many months of entertaining Palmela and her five sisters.
All in all I had a great time and I hope some of my other friends start planning for weddings soon...hehe...
...
British term of the day...
jake - n. Proud monument erected in the memory of a nice pair of knockers you once saw, or a notable scene from a blue movie.
Sample sentence : Shaky got a Jake when he saw Kimmie after so many months of entertaining Palmela and her five sisters.
Friday, July 26, 2002
look what I found ma!!...Dictionary for the Profane...and here are just some of the goodies I found...
screw v. To have sex piggy style, rotating clockwise due to a corkscrew shaped cock.
walnut manoeuvre n. The mythical method by which good looking nurses are trained to poke your walnut (qv) in order to obtain an instant sperm sample.
...
Someone please tell me...Who has sex "piggy style"???...I don't think pigs even have sex "piggy style"...or else I would have seen this weird mating ritual on the nature channel already!!...but apparently Spooner thinks that their corkscrew tail is proof that they do...if anyone knows of this matter...please inform Spooner and I...
Has anyone ever had the walnut manoeuvre done on them?...it was in the movie "Road Trip" when one of the guys had his prostate gland rubbed...hmm...I hear it's the equivalent of rubbing the female G spot...
screw v. To have sex piggy style, rotating clockwise due to a corkscrew shaped cock.
walnut manoeuvre n. The mythical method by which good looking nurses are trained to poke your walnut (qv) in order to obtain an instant sperm sample.
...
Someone please tell me...Who has sex "piggy style"???...I don't think pigs even have sex "piggy style"...or else I would have seen this weird mating ritual on the nature channel already!!...but apparently Spooner thinks that their corkscrew tail is proof that they do...if anyone knows of this matter...please inform Spooner and I...
Has anyone ever had the walnut manoeuvre done on them?...it was in the movie "Road Trip" when one of the guys had his prostate gland rubbed...hmm...I hear it's the equivalent of rubbing the female G spot...
Thursday, July 25, 2002
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Saturday, July 20, 2002
I hate people who answer questions with questions...about the original question...I should return the favour and answer their questions with questions...and further piss them off with new questions before they can ask more questions about my original question! Stop asking me questions!!
It would seem that my loathing (my word for the week) for established congregations of myths and superstitions (ie religion) so much that whenever I want to type out GOD...I manage to type out DOG 3 or more times before I actually get it right...now most people would just merely assume I'm a horrible typer (or an absentminded one)...but I think subconsciously I have refused to acknowledge any remote possibility of an existence of GOD (I was conscious about that one and had to type that one out really slow so I'd get it on the first try)...(if you didn't know...I also have a love for brackets...but I will go into that some other day)...no I'm not going to start a rant about why religion is so bad...cuz honestly I think religion is peachy...just not for me...if you think about it...religion was probably created to keep people in line...to keep society in check...to deter people from involving themselves in anti-social behaviours...but for myself in particular...I think I can live a good and purposeful life without DOG (ok...I did that on purpose)...me believing in some omnipotent being really has no bearing on whether or not I conform to the norms of society...I have built my morals around my own feelings of self-righteousness...
So why would I need religion?...am I concerned about the after-life?...hardly...the same people who preach to me about why GOD (I'm getting better at this) is good...and why GOD is great...are the same people who tell me to "seize the moment"..."live for the day"..."carpe diem"...why should I even concern myself with something that far down the road?...and for all I know doesn't exist...and if it so happens that GOD exists, the after-life exists, and he refuses to let me into heaven...big fricken deal...I've lived a lifetime of standing outside looking in...feeling as though I'm not welcomed anywhere...puh-lease...tell me what am I missing out on...I wouldn't know any better...and until you show me better...I will never have faith in it...like Cuba said..."SHOW ME THE MONEY!!"...
So why would I need religion?...am I concerned about the after-life?...hardly...the same people who preach to me about why GOD (I'm getting better at this) is good...and why GOD is great...are the same people who tell me to "seize the moment"..."live for the day"..."carpe diem"...why should I even concern myself with something that far down the road?...and for all I know doesn't exist...and if it so happens that GOD exists, the after-life exists, and he refuses to let me into heaven...big fricken deal...I've lived a lifetime of standing outside looking in...feeling as though I'm not welcomed anywhere...puh-lease...tell me what am I missing out on...I wouldn't know any better...and until you show me better...I will never have faith in it...like Cuba said..."SHOW ME THE MONEY!!"...
Friday, July 19, 2002
I love the internet...so much to read...so many quirky people...I spend countless hours a day just skimming pages everywhere...and every now and then something interesting comes by...whether that's a personal page or an online article...and like any good book...well...I never finish it on the first attempt...hehe...so I usually end up saving them for a read sometime down the road when I have a little more time on my hands...I wish I had a computer in the bathroom where most of my reading is done...I don't think I'd ever get off the can...I wonder down the road if I will remember all the things I've read and all the people I've read about...or whether these moments in my life are one of my many wasted moments...or ones I might remember when I'm 70 and telling my grandchildren far-fetched stories of my glorific life...my mind is jumping from place to place today...ever have those days?
Update on how I'm feeling...still miserable...still involved in self-loathing...I've found out more things to loathe about...none I wish to talk about right now...maybe tomorrow I'll feel better...maybe not...
Update on how I'm feeling...still miserable...still involved in self-loathing...I've found out more things to loathe about...none I wish to talk about right now...maybe tomorrow I'll feel better...maybe not...
Thursday, July 18, 2002
I'm having my ultrasound today...and for some reason...having an "ultrasound" doesn't sound very manly...when I tell people I'm having one...I almost expect comments such as "tell me if it's a boy or a girl"...or "I never knew you were pregnant"...or some other witticism along those lines...It makes me wonder how much brainwashing society has done to us...even simple words like these can have have a sexist connotation or two...though I know people are more aware these days of sexism on the conscious level...and I'm sure it is on the decline compared to say the 1960s/1970s when women were primarily homemakers...I think sexism itself is still rampant at the subconscious level...I mean think of the subconscious assumptions you make when you hear people talk about "nurses" or "construction workers" or "ultrasound"...but anyhow...I'm not sure what my main point was to begin with...and I'm not sure if this was what I initially wanted to talk about or just one big digression...but I think it's kinda frightening to see how deep rooted some of society's problems are...
Back to my ultrasound...finally getting my ankle checked out...it's been well over a year since I sprained my ankle initially...and many times since...but I've finally made a commitment to get help (I think I have issues with people helping me...but I'll save that for another time)...and I'm both excited about the possibilities and afraid of the outcome...
I hoping the doctor will give me some instructions on how to get back to 100%...and a reasonable timeline in which I can accomplish this...but I'm also aware that these types of problems can be somewhat complex for a non-specialized doctor to diagnose...and maybe my doctor will play the old "you need rest and rehab" card (to which I might want to play the "do you wanna see how far up your ass my ankle will go?" card)...to me this sounds like the same cure they give to every person who sprains their ankle...and somehow I feel as though my problem is worse than the ordinary ankle injuries...or that my specific case is somehow unique compared to everyone else's...maybe I'm a hypochondriac...maybe I have some sort of need to feel "special"...either way...I don't feel like my ankle is 100%...very far from it...I'd say it's less than 60%...and I'm very pessimistic about the possibilities it will ever be 100% again...
So I've made a list of positive things about having one healthy ankle...it's not as extensive as it could be...but hey...it's 6am and I'm suppose to be working on my assignment...so you'll have to deal with this lacklustre attempt at sharing my not-so-thorough thoughts on this matter (not to mention procrastination)...
1) I could apply for handicap status and park closer than I ever have in my life (though I know I will still manage to spend 30 minutes locating my car when I'm set to leave).
2) Chics sympathize with an injured man...and I don't need that ankle in bed (or do I?...I'll get back to you on this).
3) I will have a legitimate excuse for not being able to swim..."my poor ankle...ohhh the humanity!!...you know I would have out-swam you Garry!!"
4) Can you say "foot massage"??.
5) Maybe Jessica Alba would fall for a cripple like me like she did for that other cripple...
6) It would be sweet if my parents installed an elevator in our house so I could get up and down the stairs..."ding...main floor...ding...2nd floor"...oooooo...so excited!!
Feel free to add to my list...
Back to my ultrasound...finally getting my ankle checked out...it's been well over a year since I sprained my ankle initially...and many times since...but I've finally made a commitment to get help (I think I have issues with people helping me...but I'll save that for another time)...and I'm both excited about the possibilities and afraid of the outcome...
I hoping the doctor will give me some instructions on how to get back to 100%...and a reasonable timeline in which I can accomplish this...but I'm also aware that these types of problems can be somewhat complex for a non-specialized doctor to diagnose...and maybe my doctor will play the old "you need rest and rehab" card (to which I might want to play the "do you wanna see how far up your ass my ankle will go?" card)...to me this sounds like the same cure they give to every person who sprains their ankle...and somehow I feel as though my problem is worse than the ordinary ankle injuries...or that my specific case is somehow unique compared to everyone else's...maybe I'm a hypochondriac...maybe I have some sort of need to feel "special"...either way...I don't feel like my ankle is 100%...very far from it...I'd say it's less than 60%...and I'm very pessimistic about the possibilities it will ever be 100% again...
So I've made a list of positive things about having one healthy ankle...it's not as extensive as it could be...but hey...it's 6am and I'm suppose to be working on my assignment...so you'll have to deal with this lacklustre attempt at sharing my not-so-thorough thoughts on this matter (not to mention procrastination)...
1) I could apply for handicap status and park closer than I ever have in my life (though I know I will still manage to spend 30 minutes locating my car when I'm set to leave).
2) Chics sympathize with an injured man...and I don't need that ankle in bed (or do I?...I'll get back to you on this).
3) I will have a legitimate excuse for not being able to swim..."my poor ankle...ohhh the humanity!!...you know I would have out-swam you Garry!!"
4) Can you say "foot massage"??.
5) Maybe Jessica Alba would fall for a cripple like me like she did for that other cripple...
6) It would be sweet if my parents installed an elevator in our house so I could get up and down the stairs..."ding...main floor...ding...2nd floor"...oooooo...so excited!!
Feel free to add to my list...
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." -- Dr. Seuss
Thanks Liz for that little session of self-affirmation...I feel like Stewart the self-affirmation guy from SNL now...and thanks Kimmie for being the wonderful gf you've always been...you're one of the few bright spots in my so-called existence...
...and thanks Stan and Garry...for putting up with my shit...
Thanks Liz for that little session of self-affirmation...I feel like Stewart the self-affirmation guy from SNL now...and thanks Kimmie for being the wonderful gf you've always been...you're one of the few bright spots in my so-called existence...
...and thanks Stan and Garry...for putting up with my shit...
Seems like all the attempts I've made at my own personally growth have been all for naught...I'm regressing...each and everyday I find myself reverting to me about 12 years ago...back when I was the geeky kid who never had a friend...all I had was school and sports in my life...I played tennis, volleyball, and everything else 6 days a week just to feel ok about myself...it was the only thing that gave me any confidence...
...and here I am today...I can count my real friends on one hand...I'm still in school and unemployed...and I've got no sports to boost my confidence...my ankle is messed up...I can't do anything...where do I even begin to rebuild my confidence?...last weekend's bbq session was probably the best I've felt in awhile...simply cuz I felt like I was part of something greater than my self...as fromagee as it sounds...playing vball and being part of a team really got my spirits up...I really need to hurry up and heal my ankle...I'm miserable as heck...
So maybe it's just me...I'm just obscene...but it feels so empty being me...(sorry...people have brainwashed me into thinking I'm Eminem...minus the confidence)
...and here I am today...I can count my real friends on one hand...I'm still in school and unemployed...and I've got no sports to boost my confidence...my ankle is messed up...I can't do anything...where do I even begin to rebuild my confidence?...last weekend's bbq session was probably the best I've felt in awhile...simply cuz I felt like I was part of something greater than my self...as fromagee as it sounds...playing vball and being part of a team really got my spirits up...I really need to hurry up and heal my ankle...I'm miserable as heck...
So maybe it's just me...I'm just obscene...but it feels so empty being me...(sorry...people have brainwashed me into thinking I'm Eminem...minus the confidence)
I hate being passive aggressive...it's driving me crazy...just when I find a way to release the aggression built up with one problem...another one surfaces...and I'm left feeling completely angry...and completely alone in this world...it's like no one understands me...I can't share anything truthfully with anyone...I'm aware of so many of my problems and the causes of them...and at the same time I'm helpless to do anything about them...and my passive aggressive nature keeps everything away from the people who can help me...every week a new problem arises...and as I begin to slowly correct that problem...I neglect the previous problems that needed work...it's a vicious cycle...and I don't know what to do...right now it's a conscious effort for me to fix these problems...and I'm hoping one day they'll be subconscious...but it's not working right now...I just have too many issues I haven't dealt with my entire life...but here's a layered cake diagram of my problems...the bottom being the foundation and main catalyst of my problems...
LACK OF TRUST IN THE ONES I LOVE
-----------------------
INADEQUACY/INSECURITY
-----------------------
PASSIVE AGGRESSION (UNABLE TO DEAL WITH MY PROBLEMS DIRECTLY)
All the things above passive aggression ignite the fire...my passive aggression is the fuel that keeps the fire going...and I know if I could just stop that...solving my other problems would be so easy...but how do you stop being YOURSELF???...something you've been for the past 26 years...it's such a deep hole I've dug for myself...so deep I feel completely insignificant...I have constant thoughts of non-existence...that this world wouldn't have skipped a beat if I hadn't been born...so where do I begin to regain my self-worth?...when will I finally put out that fire?...why am I so lost?...all questions but no answers...
Goddamn I hate self-loathing...and that's another reason I hate myself...I'm a walking hypocrisy...I hate all these things...and yet I'm everything I hate...
Tonight I almost broke up with my gf cuz I hate myself...and she deserves so much better...I just wish I didn't have to feel this way...
LACK OF TRUST IN THE ONES I LOVE
-----------------------
INADEQUACY/INSECURITY
-----------------------
PASSIVE AGGRESSION (UNABLE TO DEAL WITH MY PROBLEMS DIRECTLY)
All the things above passive aggression ignite the fire...my passive aggression is the fuel that keeps the fire going...and I know if I could just stop that...solving my other problems would be so easy...but how do you stop being YOURSELF???...something you've been for the past 26 years...it's such a deep hole I've dug for myself...so deep I feel completely insignificant...I have constant thoughts of non-existence...that this world wouldn't have skipped a beat if I hadn't been born...so where do I begin to regain my self-worth?...when will I finally put out that fire?...why am I so lost?...all questions but no answers...
Goddamn I hate self-loathing...and that's another reason I hate myself...I'm a walking hypocrisy...I hate all these things...and yet I'm everything I hate...
Tonight I almost broke up with my gf cuz I hate myself...and she deserves so much better...I just wish I didn't have to feel this way...
Monday, July 15, 2002
Best laugh of the day...a friend's attempt to make an analogy similar to the cliche "Out of the frying pan, into the fire"...
We call this a BukBuk Analogy...named in honour of our friend BukBuk
"there's no point jumping into a burning house from a sinking sink, right?"
...hahahaha...still laughing...
We call this a BukBuk Analogy...named in honour of our friend BukBuk
"there's no point jumping into a burning house from a sinking sink, right?"
...hahahaha...still laughing...
Was just sitting here and remembered how my friend Lindy didn't know the difference between "invisible" and "invincible"...hahaha...funny flashbacks...gotta love them...
Oh...I'm trying to preserve some endangered words...please help me out and spread the word...here are some examples...
dope - "yo man...that track was dope!!"
fly - "yo man...that track was fly!!"
superfly - "yo man...that track was superfly!!"
tite - "yo man...that track was tite!!"
(for lack of better sentence examples...)
Oh...I'm trying to preserve some endangered words...please help me out and spread the word...here are some examples...
dope - "yo man...that track was dope!!"
fly - "yo man...that track was fly!!"
superfly - "yo man...that track was superfly!!"
tite - "yo man...that track was tite!!"
(for lack of better sentence examples...)
Saturday was one really tiring day...I spent 12 hrs at the beach...9am-9pm...eating, drinking, and playing vball all day...then I went clubbing with the gang from 11pm-4am...then went to Rolsan's to have the usual after-clubbing meal...arriving home at 5:30am and waking up at 8am to go to work the same morning...needless to say I feel like I got ran over by a bus...I muscles are so sore from vball I had to roll out of bed this morning...how did I ever manage to do this when I was in university?...I guess I was younger then and my body wasn't as weary...which has started me thinking on how we as humans take for granted the things we've got...we seem to neglect and take for granted things the most when our lives are good...
...take for example...my ankle...I never realized how mobile I was a few years ago when I was playing beach vball every sunday...this weekend I found out how difficult it was for me to hit and set when I was 3 steps slower than normal...but no worries...one day my ankle will be healed and I will be back to normal...some things we take for granted can't be taken back once they're lost...relationships for example...
A few years ago I was in a 3.5 year relationship...and sometime after the 1st year I started taking her for granted...and I never realized it...I don't think I valued that relationship too much...she was a very nice girl...just wasn't for me...and I lost interest really early...but somehow I conned myself into staying much longer than I had wanted to...but you live and learn right?...that will never happen again...everyone has the right to happiness (do not be owned by your relationship)...
I'm now working on a relationship that's 2+ years old...and my significant other...she's wonderful...beautiful, funny, intelligent, compassionate, caring...and she saves me from the pitfalls I create for myself...she sends me packages with cough drops when I'm sick...she sends me boxers to cover my bum...she's someone I never want to take for granted...
Anyhow...this getting a bit long...and I haven't had the inclination to ramble extensively lately (often ending my rambles with "blah, blah, blah" or "yada, yada, yada" ala Seinfeld)...so I'll wrap this up...
I think the more you take life for granted...the more life reminds you by taking those things away...learn to cherish what you've got...
...take for example...my ankle...I never realized how mobile I was a few years ago when I was playing beach vball every sunday...this weekend I found out how difficult it was for me to hit and set when I was 3 steps slower than normal...but no worries...one day my ankle will be healed and I will be back to normal...some things we take for granted can't be taken back once they're lost...relationships for example...
A few years ago I was in a 3.5 year relationship...and sometime after the 1st year I started taking her for granted...and I never realized it...I don't think I valued that relationship too much...she was a very nice girl...just wasn't for me...and I lost interest really early...but somehow I conned myself into staying much longer than I had wanted to...but you live and learn right?...that will never happen again...everyone has the right to happiness (do not be owned by your relationship)...
I'm now working on a relationship that's 2+ years old...and my significant other...she's wonderful...beautiful, funny, intelligent, compassionate, caring...and she saves me from the pitfalls I create for myself...she sends me packages with cough drops when I'm sick...she sends me boxers to cover my bum...she's someone I never want to take for granted...
Anyhow...this getting a bit long...and I haven't had the inclination to ramble extensively lately (often ending my rambles with "blah, blah, blah" or "yada, yada, yada" ala Seinfeld)...so I'll wrap this up...
I think the more you take life for granted...the more life reminds you by taking those things away...learn to cherish what you've got...
Friday, July 12, 2002
Oh god I hate scroll bars...why do people have to use so many iframes on their webpages??...curse you scroll bars!!...scroll bars will be the death of me I tell you...
In related news...dj seto has started his promotional webpage --> likwidgruv ...click on it and download some free music before he starts charging an arm and a leg for them (that means for most of you...you'll only be able to get 2 mixes!!!!)...get'em while they're hot people...the next best thing since sliced bread (hey Garr...you should name your next mix "sliced bread")...
Having a BBQ at the beach tomorrow with good friends...life is good...what can I say...
In related news...dj seto has started his promotional webpage --> likwidgruv ...click on it and download some free music before he starts charging an arm and a leg for them (that means for most of you...you'll only be able to get 2 mixes!!!!)...get'em while they're hot people...the next best thing since sliced bread (hey Garr...you should name your next mix "sliced bread")...
Having a BBQ at the beach tomorrow with good friends...life is good...what can I say...
Thursday, July 11, 2002
Killbear was a blast as usual...latest Killbear moments below...
1) Stan leaning on Bri's car and staring into the woods for 2 hrs without moving a single muscle...
2) Akiko starting a fire with her own "unconventional" methods...
3) Losing Mark and Elaine in the woods and sending out 4 search parties to find them...
4) The Traveler's mental breakdown...
5) Stan being carried to the rocks along the beach...Tina being carried back...
6) Fatty breaking Nori's chair...
Anyone game for a late August trip? =P
1) Stan leaning on Bri's car and staring into the woods for 2 hrs without moving a single muscle...
2) Akiko starting a fire with her own "unconventional" methods...
3) Losing Mark and Elaine in the woods and sending out 4 search parties to find them...
4) The Traveler's mental breakdown...
5) Stan being carried to the rocks along the beach...Tina being carried back...
6) Fatty breaking Nori's chair...
Anyone game for a late August trip? =P
Friday, June 28, 2002
Killbear camp trip is fast approaching...getting a bit excited...I remember starting this tradition about 5-6 years ago...and it has never been without some memorable moments...so I've decided to post some of the most memorable Killbear moments...and you guys can vote to see which one was the funniest...hehe...
1) Spiking Nori's hamburger with my mom's hot sauce and giving him the runs for the rest of the night...hehe...
2) Stealing Tom's underwear and taking pictures of watermelon underwear ads...needless to say I think we safely concluded Tom's ass is as big as a watermelon...
3) Stan, Makoto, and Tuan's drunken stupor...where they thought they were black...carrying around malt liquor and calling themselves...Keyshawn, T-bone, and Reyshawn...if you've ever seen white guys pretending to be black...this may be almost as funny...
4) Lindy's drunken stupor...a girl who rarely drinks let alone gets drunk...serenades the group with "Don't Wanna Be a Player No More"...
5) Mendel's bad trip with shrooms followed by him trying to put out a fire with a cup of Vodka in front of the park ranger...I am still in awe at how we managed to NOT get kicked out of the campgrounds that night...
6) Khiem, Garry, and Nori try a wrestling move...resulting in Nori crushing Garry like the little ant he is...hehe
7) Arthur and Ha swimming to a nearby island only to get too tired to swim back...they got rescued by a friendly boat...
8) Drunken 4 squares...where we turned an innocent elementary playground game into a very violent drunken adult game...
9) Garry spiking the pancakes with rum...mmm...that tasted quite good actually...
10) Stan getting really drunk and slept on newspapers soaked in Ha's puke...um...this is funny in retrospect...but a tad on the gross side =/
Start your votes now!...and let me know if I missed anything...
What will be this year's defining Killbear moment? =)
1) Spiking Nori's hamburger with my mom's hot sauce and giving him the runs for the rest of the night...hehe...
2) Stealing Tom's underwear and taking pictures of watermelon underwear ads...needless to say I think we safely concluded Tom's ass is as big as a watermelon...
3) Stan, Makoto, and Tuan's drunken stupor...where they thought they were black...carrying around malt liquor and calling themselves...Keyshawn, T-bone, and Reyshawn...if you've ever seen white guys pretending to be black...this may be almost as funny...
4) Lindy's drunken stupor...a girl who rarely drinks let alone gets drunk...serenades the group with "Don't Wanna Be a Player No More"...
5) Mendel's bad trip with shrooms followed by him trying to put out a fire with a cup of Vodka in front of the park ranger...I am still in awe at how we managed to NOT get kicked out of the campgrounds that night...
6) Khiem, Garry, and Nori try a wrestling move...resulting in Nori crushing Garry like the little ant he is...hehe
7) Arthur and Ha swimming to a nearby island only to get too tired to swim back...they got rescued by a friendly boat...
8) Drunken 4 squares...where we turned an innocent elementary playground game into a very violent drunken adult game...
9) Garry spiking the pancakes with rum...mmm...that tasted quite good actually...
10) Stan getting really drunk and slept on newspapers soaked in Ha's puke...um...this is funny in retrospect...but a tad on the gross side =/
Start your votes now!...and let me know if I missed anything...
What will be this year's defining Killbear moment? =)
Saturday, June 22, 2002
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