Squawkbox.

I've mention I'm a bit of a talker, but it's occurred to me that perhaps there's times were people don't want to hear what I have to say. Whenever I'm in a setting where I'm among people and it's quiet, I'm often the one to make some lame remark on the fact that it's quiet. I don't find silence to be a particularly amicable way to spend time with friends. There are certain situations where I think silence is okay, but generally in a more intimate setting.

I have regular appointments with both my physiotherapist and my massage therapist. Both of them have functioned not only as a therapist for my physical ailments, but as a sort of emotional therapist as well. Having a live person to just talk to really helps sort things out in my brain. Jennifer, my physiotherapist I find to be great to just ramble to. She's very polite about it, which makes me think an aspect to physiotherapist training is learning how to socialize with clients. She'll let me prattle on endlessly about whatever I feel like talking about. It's good to have that kind of soundboard. Angie and Jasmine, my massage therapists function from a more therapeutic angle. I think something about being under the sheets in my skivvies while being massaged my a woman makes me drop my guard. As a result I've shared with them a lot about what's been going on in my mind about particular issues and they always offer up great insight into the matter.

I feel sorry for people who don't have this kind of outlet. Perhaps it's just me and my need to talk, but I think everyone needs someone like this to talk to. Obviously I don't share with them every thought that enters my head, but I certainly talk about a lot of things. Conversation is very much a form of mental and verbal athleticism. If you don't exercise it regularly it atrophies. When I was in high school and a member of the drama program I was quite adept at improvisation. My mind functions at an incredible speed when faced with spur of the moment demands. I think this is why I've made such a good liar in the past. I catch myself when I find myself in a lie these days, but when I was younger I was (ashamedly) very good at it.

I think it's for this reason that I had such a good time with my one Dungeons and Dragons character, Erin. She was a bard, but a very devious and malicious one. While I could go on for quite some time about her escapades what I'd like to mention first and foremost is how she was an extension of my dark side. Everyone's got a dark side, in my opinion. The element that makes you want to do ill and evil. Often this can be kept so in check that some people don't (or can't) recognize their own dark nature. In Erin I was able to gleefully manipulate and control situations vicariously. It was a lot of fun, and for the two other gentlemen who I played with I think they'll agree she had good depth. Part of satiating the darkness in oneself through a game is knowing when to leave it on the page. By this I mean understanding that the game is a game, and what goes on there has no place in reality. I understand this fully, and I would never perform some of the acts that I did with Erin in the real world.

I got off topic there. Conversation as a form of communication is in danger of being dissolved by the text message. You all know where I stand on those. I don't think that the digital generation that we find ourselves is making it easier to understand or communicate with one another. Faster, certainly, but not better. When I am in person with someone, communicating my message I am able to employ hand gestures, facial expressions and other forms of body language. This can aid in the structure of my message better than any emoticon I have at my disposal online. This is why I enjoy the performance of live story tellers or actors more than I would reading a book. It adds depth and dimension to the subject and allows me to be carried directly into the world being described to me. I've fully capable of inventing my own worlds and landscapes. Being provided with a springboard in the form of prose doesn't make this experience more enjoyable for me, in fact it's less so. I'm being informed of what I should be thinking about. Either show me, or let me invent my own pictures. The world in between is forced and uninteresting.

I think I'm tired, I've gone off topic twice now which is a clear sign I didn't really have a topic to remain on in the first place.

Unoriginal And Brilliant.

My dad and I were out at Burger King this afternoon when we (and by which I mean I) got talking about The Matrix. I've seen the movie a lot of times. I actually try and watch it at least once a month if I can. I don't know why, but I find it's kind of like a form of meditation. The familiarity with the movie helps wind me down and actually seems to help me sleep some nights.

Now as an introduction I could see how that one would make you think I find the movie boring, and this isn't the case. More than the actual plot and special effects of the movie, I find the references much more interesting to track. The Wachowski Brothers are no doubt brilliant, but I can hardly call them original. Much like the man who made millions selling the pet rock, the Wachowskis have taken the everyday and common and made it exceptional and new.

First and foremost is the special effects in the film. The famous "bullet time" sequences became one of the most talked about aspects of the movie. When you break it down into its components though this is hardly anything new. It's taking the concept of slow motion and pumping it up a bit. The concept had been accomplished in the past in other movies, often relying upon computer generated special effects to achieve this three dimensional slow motion. All the Wachowskis did was make it look a bit more realistic by utilizing cameras in series to achieve the same effect previously accomplished with computers.

Other than the bullet time, the other thing often mentioned by the casual fan is the acrobatics and marital arts incorporated into the film. Wire work like that had been used in Chinese and Japanese cinema for decades prior to this, but it had remained in a rather rudimentary form in Western cinema until they mimicked the Asian styles. And martial arts of that caliber have been a staple of chop socky films for ages. In Western cinema there is often a stunt double who would be brought in to perform the moves, or they would have the camera so zoomed in so as to make it impossible to see the moves being performed fully. Often this was because the actors weren't really doing any actual moves. For a great example of this, go back and watch the very first Star Wars movie in the new trilogy. Notice the wide angle shots of the lightsabre duels? Ok now watch the second and third one and you will notice a lot more close angle shots and computer generated characters viewed from very far away. Much easier (cheaper) to choreograph that I'm sure.

The final aspect is the story and setting in which the world of the Matrix exists. Concepts of what compose reality, and what is the nature of existence and consciousness have been discussed for as long as man has been able to argue. They even have a specific school of study for it, it's called Philosophy. The Wachowskis weren't coming up with new ideas of what made us human, they were basically giving us a Coles notes version of philosophy ideas, set it to a Prodigy soundtrack and added guns.

So despite all of this, why is the movie so damn successful and popular? Well that's where the discussion with my father went next. I mentioned to him that nerds like it when the subjects of their nerdom become popular. When anime made it huge in North America, those of us who had been importing DVDs and downloading content were suddenly presented with a marvelous opportunity. The series and movies that we loved were now being sold at Chapters and on Amazon.ca. Movies like the Matrix made things we already loved immediately more accessible to us. You will often find "purists" of anime, or other such sub cultures who feel that the commercialization of their passions is a way of the companies selling out. Suddenly they feel as though their individual worlds are being invaded with yuppies who don't adequately understand or appreciate something they've loved for years before them. I can understand this feeling, as I've been there before with certain topics. Fans (short for fanatics, after all) are very protective of the things they're fans of. When the Wachowskis introduced the mass society to a world previously only ventured in forums online, and between friends watching John Woo films in their basement, they made it possible for this world to be enjoyed by everyone.

When I was in high school I ran a film/anime club for the last few years I was there. While it attracted a lot of people who were just looking for a place to stay inside during lunch, it did have a few truly interested individuals who came for the media. I feel it is our duty as fans of something to educate and introduce others into our worlds. I've shown my parents all of Neon Genesis Evangelion, and while I'm fairly certain it wasn't their cup of tea they were open enough to give it a watch. I think that's all we can ask of anyone is the open mind to try something like that.

When you go back and watch the special features for the Matrix, and listen to how Andy and Larry Wachowski talk, it's evident that they are excited about the subject. They've seen some animes, and they've watched a bunch of old kung fu movies. They just happened to have the drive to turn this excitement into an actual film of marketable value. They're clearly not the biggest anime fans on the planet though, they refer to it as "Japanimation". This is about the same as calling a black person "coloured" or an asian person "oriental". It's outdated, and insulting. It was a pretty clear sign they saw Ghost in the Shell somewhere and thought, "Yeah we can do that".

There's no need to be original when you're creating art, so long as you're savvy enough to convince everyone it was your idea all along.

The Well Runneth Dry.

I haven't been posting with the same frequency I first did, and I think I know the reason. At some level there's only so much any one person has to talk about. Aside from running a constant log as to their day to day going-ons, people have realms of subjects that they are comfortable talking about. While I could happily reiterate statements I have made before, I feel obligated to those who read this to maintain fresh and interesting posts. As such I have found myself posting less, that is until something interesting occurs to me and I feel like sharing it.

This does give me a small amount of cause for concern as it makes me feel a bit two dimensional; a character in a movie. I have emotions and personality, but they remain scripted so as to keep me "in character". This doesn't allow me a lot of freedom to talk about things that aren't part of my portfolio. I also feel that I owe a certain degree of discretion in this blog, as my aim is not to out right belittle anyone or anything, but just give an opinion on the matter. There's plenty I'm not 100% content with, but I am by no means a complainer. I don't want this to turn into one of those blogs that are a bank of pessimism and nihilism. Those may have an audience of sorts, but they're so heavy and bleak to write.

I think I'll focus on posting small things that happen to me throughout the day, and see if a full entry spawns from that. I imagine that would work, as I know myself well enough to know I get on rants fairly easily.

For example, I've been doing stockroom work at my job the past two days. Now, I haven't said anything to the management staff yet because it's only been this one week. However if it becomes a frequent task of mine to unload the truck I feel I will have to speak up for the sake of my physical well being. After doing the truck my back and leg were very sore. I could stand and I had to wedge an icepack between my back and the chair in the hopes of numbing my spine which was firing like sparks at a bonfire. The last time I worked at Pier 1 I was often asked to lift and move things heavy along side Andrew, the only other male staff member. While I can understand the angle the managers are coming from - that being it's just faster to get the two strongest people to do the task - I do feel it's sexist to a degree. I am not a physically strong individual. In terms of physical fitness I could do with a lot more conditioning. What I do have going in my favour is I am extremely stubborn (emphasis on extremely) to a point where if there's a minute possibility that I can lift something, then I'll find a way to. I demand a lot out of my body, and in return I haven't been too kind to it. I dealt with sciatica three years ago (a condition that flares up whenever I do something stupid like life an entertainment centre) and that coupled with my impairments from the accident means I often am lifting or moving more than I physically should.

I think a lot of this is about being competitive. I am, by nature a very competitive person. In video games I am a good loser, but I never pull punches. I always play my absolute hardest. It's the same back when I was in track and field. I use to run 1000m track events at top speed as though it was a 100m dash. I remember one such occasion where I destroyed the competition only to "tunnel out" in the last 10 metres, fell over after the finish line and threw up. That's the kind of push I apply to things that I feel are of a competitive nature. It's the same thing with work. When I am asked to do a task, as I'm not accustomed to saying no I make sure that I complete the task quickly and efficiently. As a result my body must take the brunt of my effort. The air conditioner was broken and it was sweltering in the back room. To make matters worse, it was a very hot and muggy day and for reasons I'm not entirely sure about I wore a long sleeved shirt to work. The entire shift people kept coming back and saying how hot it was, and why wasn't I complaining. I smiled because that's the kind of validation I require to know I'm tougher than your average cupcake.

It may stem from some kind of male ego thing, but I think I'd be the same if I were a woman. I'm proud, immensely proud. I don't take criticism well at all, and so if I never give people anything to criticize me about I don't have to face that hurdle. If I am the fastest, smartest, funniest, etc. then there's no room for critique. I know I'm none of those things above, but so long as I'm better than the people who are in a position to judge then I give myself a bit of breathing room. I don't need to be the smartest person in the world, just the smartest guy at work. I don't need to be the best video gamer, just best at the games I play.

I don't think this is anything I need to work on, as it's a source of strength for me. What do you think?

Low Lights At Night.

In the many years that I've been driving, I find I drive at night as often as I drive during the day. Often times I would go out just for an evening drive, after the sun had set. There's something very peaceful about finding a back road at 1:00 am, driving with the windows down and some soft music playing on the radio.

One thing that often occurred to me while I was driving was the number of large houses that are either hidden behind a wall of trees, or boast only one small light off to the side causing the house to vanish in the dark. It makes me wonder about the kind of people who live in these homes out in the country, nothing but fields of corn and starlight to keep them company in the moonlight. What are they doing at these late hours? Are they off having dinner parties with interesting individuals, or are they downstairs watching a movie with the family. Perhaps they're on vacation somewhere exotic, taking pictures and making memories.

The houses themselves also seem to tell a story. For the ones that are older, more stately homes they echo a sort of geriatric warmth. They have seen families come and go and they act as sponges for these memories. Each knick in the wood, or mismatched wall painting carries with it the story behind it and the family at the centre. The newer, more modern houses could be homes for the newly married looking to start a family. They could be the Fortress of Solitudes for wealthy bachelors looking for a place away from the city to escape their busy lives.

I find that when I drive in the city I think less about these things when I see houses. For some reason homes in the city seem to offer a more functional purpose as residence. Unless they're particularly unique they don't have the same character as homes in the country do. They're like the people in the city, built first and foremost for survival. This doesn't mean they're bland or uninteresting, but there's a quality to them that's very immediate. They function more in a world of "now" and "what's to come", lacking the luxury of "then". Country people live a bit more in the past, like their homes they are vaults of memories and nostalgia. They view the encroaching city as an ill omen seeking to raze their houses and - along with it - their very character.

I am, of course speaking in generalities. There is always going to be different kinds of people in all sorts of living conditions, but the immediate emotional response I get from the front facade of a house sticks with me. I envy those quite, dark houses and the residents within. I envy their apparent sureness in life. They are grounded, and like the foundations of their home they are unmoving and abiding. The porch lights that glow dimly in the midnight light are at once inviting and private.

Or maybe they're just four walls with people fast asleep within.

Le Artiste.

I use to draw and paint a lot more than I do these days. I took just about every art class in high school there was, and spent my spares and lunch periods taking other art classes I wasn't officially in, for grades I had already completed. I'm not a fantastic artist, I know this. I've stated in previous posts that I'm capable of forming fantastic ideas of how things should look, and I wish desperately that I could hook a printer up to my brain and put it on paper. Sadly this isn't the case and I'm left with the skills that I do have to attempt to create the picture in my head.

The current project I'm working on is merging the image of The Maxx (from the comic of the same name) and Evangelion Unit 01 (of Neon Genesis Evangelion fame). So far it's working out pretty good, but as I work on it more and more it's looking a little less like the Maxx and more like an Evangelion that's totally jacked. I think it's going to take a few more sketches and some colouring for me to see it differently, and who knows if that will ever happen.

I've tried my hand at a lot of different kinds of art. Sculpting, painting, drawing and stuff that falls in the middle of all three. I find that with painting I'm very capable of working with colour, and I have a good grasp of how to bend it to my will. It's with form and subject matter that I falter. It's the same with sketching. I've always been able to tinker in abstract linescapes that don't really accomplish anything, but ask my to draw a person and I appear to be drawing with my off hand using crayons. It's not pretty. Sculpting is a little easier to create a desired image. My hands listen better to me in three dimensions than they do in two, so creating an object that I want to look a certain way is fairly easy. The issue here is that clay isn't cheap and unless you have access to a kiln it's a fairly wasted endeavor. Besides it's not like you can carry sculptures around to show people. That is primarily why I draw. To convey an idea I have in my head to someone else as clearly as possible. It doesn't matter how cool something I can conceive is if I can't adequately show it to someone else.

I am a bit of an art snob though, when it comes to drawings I see on the internet or even in books. Especially when it comes to fantasy and science fiction pieces I'm very picky about them. One of my favourite artists in this genre is the famous Masamune Shirow. His work is eye candy, but after a while you begin to get more critical about pieces that look very similar. He's discovered a formula for making pieces look technical and he exploits in. Not unlike J.K. Rowling's fame with Harry Potter, Masamune Shirow's fan base is very devoted and sometimes a little blind to things that can appear a bit lazy. Another artist I'm a fan of is Korean Hyung-tae Kim (or Kim Hyung Tae over here in North America). His use of colour and anatomy are so graphic and overwhelming that each image demands a certain amount of time in order to let it sink in visually.

I should get back to drawing if I'm ever going to finish this Maxx Unit 01, but I'm concerned that it - like so much else I start - will remain unsatisfactory and ultimately unfinished like so much of my art.

Oh Paul Dirac.

So I was doing some light reading on Wikipedia, and I decided to look up a scientist by the name of Paul Dirac. While much of his math is so far above my head I can't even begin to fathom it, I do find certain things he has mentioned to be fairly interesting. Take a moment and read this, I'll wait.

Okay, so I found two comments in that piece pretty funny. The first of which is when he criticizes J. Robert Oppenheimer with the quote, "The aim of science is to make difficult things understandable in a simpler way; the aim of poetry is to state simple things in an incomprehensible way. The two are incompatible." I've never been a fantastic poet, or a poet at all for that matter. Sure I went through phases where I've tried my hand at poetry, but I've never been able to create what I'd call good verse. I think this is probably because of the reasons Dirac points out above. I am first and foremost a scientific thinker. I seek to understand things in a tangible capacity, lest I dismiss them altogether. Poetry exists in a realm of abstracts and concepts. While the subject matter can be something concrete, the way a poet sees this subject is probably the way an occultist sees auras. There's a quality to the world that's imperceptible to the rest of us.

The other section I found humorous was, "God does not exist and Paul Dirac is his prophet." It seemed kind of appropriate that a genius of science who found religion to be fraught with inconsistencies and shortcomings would be marked as the prophet of non-religion by Wolfgang Pauli. If we are to really declare an absence of God in all certitude then we must be prophets of nothingness.

I think science is a mandatory opposite to religion. Some will say that religion and science do not really conflict, but rather tell the same story from two different angles. Take the Adam and Eve story for example. The statement that there was first "one" man from which a second being was "created" (i.e. Eve) sounds an awful lot like the understanding of single celled organisms procreating via binary fission. To elaborate somewhat, there's a concept known as heat death in which the entirety of the Universe is perpetually trying to balance out the temperature of everything. As more of the Universe is cold than hot, and heat dissipates through space so readily, surely the mean temperature of the Universe is meant to be quite chilling. This entropic force that seeks to balance out the world appears to me similar in nature to the conflict in belief between religion and science. They're perpetual forces that seem driven by nature itself to achieve some sort of equilibrium. There's suppose to be (in some theories) an equal number of antimatter particles in the Universe for the amount of matter there is. It's currently not known if this is true, and current observations tend to towards an asymmetry, but the point I'm trying to make is that when matter and antimatter collide, the resulting annihilation is very violent and destructive.

Isn't this often the case when matters of religion are confronted with heresy? And what greater heresy could there be than "there is no God". Should the world ever become wholly divided upon this subject, and war were to break out it would be as devastating an event as man could ever unleash upon itself.

I kind of lost track of what I was talking about, are sort of began to rant there.

White Lies.

It's remarkable the things we convince ourselves of in order to get to bed at night. I was certain that I had written off the people in my life from my days with the Vespa. There was a quartet of friends I had made through that scooter who I really lost touch with after my accident. However, on my way out of work this evening I spotted a red Vespa with a female rider on it, and instead of dismissing the sighting I actually ran around the corner to see if it was Kaala, one of the girls I knew. I didn't managed to get around the corner by the time the rider was gone. I did chuckle to myself though. What if it was Kaala, was I going to shout out her name over the sound of traffic in the hopes she'll turn around, drive back and give me her Vespa? I can't really say why I looked, but it did convince me that there's a part of that world I still miss.

It's hard to put into words the kind of community that I was part of when I owned that scooter. I went on cruises with the KW Vespa club, met people who shared a surprisingly large amount of things in common with myself and I felt like I was actually part of something unique. When I lost the scooter, I also felt like I lost part of my identity. It's not like I had the thing long enough to really establish a renown for myself, but to me that Vespa meant so much. I had purchased it just after I left Pier 1 Imports in search of employment where I didn't need to be in the public eye. I saw it in the window of the store, and was gob-smacked. It was the right colour, right size and it connected with me. I owned the vehicle within the month, and the sensation of freedom I had on it was inexplicable. When I rode I didn't have my PRP, I was just enjoying the wind on my face and I could begin to craft an image around that world.

After the accident I told myself that I didn't really miss the scooter all that much, but after today's experience I think I miss it more than I've let myself feel. It can be hard for some people to understand how I got so swept up in that life having only been a part of it for a few short months. For me it's not unusual. When I put my heart into something I'm very much an all or nothing kind of guy. I didn't own a Vespa, I was a fanatic. I went to the websites, bought the custom equipment for the scooter, purchased a special helmet and goggles. That's just generally how I approach situations. It's the same with friends. I don't like to be a lackadaisical friend, I like to go all out. I'll cook dinners, arrange outings, find ways to make it to events I'm invited to. I just love to give 110% to things that excite me.

I imagine it's that quality that may or may not someday effect my future relationships. Some women don't like the overzealous types, but that's just how I come off. I can't do aloof or disinterested, because if that's the case I'm legitimately not interested.

Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
-Friar Laurence (William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

Fashionista.

I have always enjoyed the world of fashion. My restrictions in personal attire are actually based on finances rather than taste. I'd wear a three piece suit day in day out if I had the means to afford a multitude of suits. I'm always quite capable of deciding what looks good on a woman, and what doesn't.

By their very nature, women have a much more keenly tuned fashion sense then men. It's practically genetically programmed into them to know how to attract a mate with their looks. It doesn't always need to be glitz and glamour, but know what looks good for your body type is usually the first step. I've been attracted to women of all shapes and sizes simply because they knew how to dress with the body they had. The nuances of this science are far too varied to go into specifics, but I'll try to explain a few things that I've found very effective in women's fashion, and which things are total flops.

First off, pajama pants. I was in high school during the phase where girls wore these pants to school, along with those Ugg boots. The look was suppose to be comfortable, but it came across as lazy and frumpish. Now I actually find pajama pants cute, when worn about the house. A women rolling out of bed, hair in a pony tail in an old t-shirt and pajama pants is actually alluring in a strange, familiar way. This isn't an excuse to lounge about in them all day, but it's certainly not a terrible sight to wake up to.

On the mention of Ugg boots, I feel obligated to mention that I don't find Uggs or Emus, Crocs or any other manner of oversized footwear to be attractive. I can understand the comfort component, but not unlike when I go a few days without shaving it's important to understand the message that gives. If you don't care, that's fantastic, but don't assume they're cute or sexy. They're not, and are no more appealing than rubber boots.

Footwear doesn't need to be stilettos and straps. I understand that running shoes are comfortable, and that's okay too. If you do want to dress in something a little more upscale, leather has always had a place in my heart. Coloured leather flats with a simple pattern stitched in looks very dressy, but can maintain a professional look. Square toe is going to be more comfortable if you're on your feet all day, and from a man's point of view is just as appealing as those pedi-crushing-pointers. Now, on a personal note I'm a sucker for stilettos. I don't just mean heels, I mean full out railroad spikes affixed to a 45 degree sole that would aerate asphalt. Really more of a personal preference, and it's not for all guys.

Jewelry is fine, but understated says a lot. Large hunks of steel, plastic and glass for necklaces and earrings do not sway us to your whims. Instead its like adoring a Christmas tree in broken billiard balls and odds and ends from the workshop. Simple earrings with delicate necklaces are more likely to draw our eye in closer for a look, and ultimately to the good looking girl who wears them.

The debate between pants and skirts is pretty old, and I can safely say that men don't really care. We don't want to see your butt crack, but at the same time a nice feminine fit for pants can help show off your curves. If you're more of a full figured woman, avoid ill fitting pants and use more skirts and dresses. Not only can they hide particular angles you may not be flattered with, but if you're among the curvy category a well fitting skirt can actually accentuate your hips and draw a nice line around them. Big hips need not be grounds for concern when they act as means to sashay your skirt left and right. A definite plus says this fellow!

Finally, tops. I've always been jealous of the vast and varied range of women's clothing options, and a good portion of this is in your shirt choices. Cleavage, it's the stuff of fantasy and allure, but there's a time and place for it. One must not always show off skin in order to stay sexy. While comfort is paramount, it's also important to dress like a lady. Boy-style t-shirts with logos and prints might be comfortable, but if you're going out to work, or out on the town wear something girly. Guys don't want to risk running into a girl wearing a shirt they could potentially own. Again, a good fit with bright colours is going to really set off the whole ensemble. Halter tops are a good way to stay cool in the summer, show off a little shoulder but still stay appropriate. Peasant shirts with a pair of tan slacks (perhaps with a unique lace-up feature along the front, side or back) really looks cute and keeps things fun.

As for colour, that's pretty open. There are some colours I find don't work well with certain women, but it's impossible to make a blanket statement. The colours we wear immediately send messages about our moods, personalities and goals. Keep this in mind the next time you want to wear all black to work. While it can come across great with some outfits, worn wrongly it's going to give you a Morticia Addams quality which is best left for the club scene.

Asked directly I could always give my two cents about what someone's wearing. I'm fairly "flamboyant" in that regard, but I don't mind. It's like appreciating good art, or commenting on the weather as far as I'm concerned. It's about knowing what looks good, and what looks like a storm's a-brewin'.

In summation, you can wear whatever you want and people are going to have either pithy comments or give glowing accolades. It's how much either of those two things matter to you that will sway your decision to wear leopard print or lace.

Talk [Sic] Friends.

We've all had them, those friends who live on the misfortune of others and the world around them. Okay perhaps that'd a bit melodramatic, but what I mean to say is there are those friends who rarely have anything constructive to add to a conversation, and seek only to vamp the life in a room. It's hard to say if they do it intentionally, although I can imagine some do. It's almost like an aura, a presence that lingers over them like cigarette smoke. In my life I've probably had less than a handful of friends like this, as I'm usually very careful who I choose to hangout with.

Often times this personality type can be very hard to notice, as they are often hidden within a seemingly normal outer shell. It's when you get to know these people better that you become trapped in their hazardous nature. A lot of magazines have covered this topic before, and the exact definition of a toxic friend is somewhat abstract. For me, it can be defined in a few ways.

1. Does the person use emotional blackmail (knowingly or unknowingly) against you? For example, do they say things like "I don't trust men because I was abused as a child". You may wonder how this can be blackmail, but it's really quite simple to understand. People who actually use phrases like that in the company of men are searching for a way to make you feel guilty and become beholden to them. If you are a good guy, they will trust you and you can win their favour. Why this is important isn't always immediately noticeable, but such is the lure of the toxic friend that you go along for the ride anyways. Now that example did have a female angle to it, but similar situations can be applied to male friends as well. A statement that outwardly indicates a degree of mental instability with no regard for how these statements make others feel is a sign of a toxic friend. If they proclaim their manic depression, or suicidal tendencies, or desire to burn things they are effectively telling you that should they hit a low of some kind, it's your fault for not "helping" them. This isn't to say that these people don't deserve help, but they don't always get to have a close nit group of stable friends. Such is the nature of mental illness, in that it is perhaps more insipidly destructive than is immediately noticeable.

2. They make requests of you that you feel required to comply with, without adequate compensation. Toxic friends will often take advantage of the good nature that many people have. Requests for drives, money, food, solace, housing, etc. all because they know they can get it. If they're female they can and do often play up that angle. For men it's more about a sense of entitlement. As their friend, we should be so lucky to spend time with them that a drive out of our way is really payment in itself. Again, this isn't always a conscious decision these people are making. It's just how they've got to understand the world and function within it.

3. They make you regret decisions you make in regards to them. If you do something that's deemed hostile towards them, they find a way to make you regret it. This can be as extreme as a suicide attempt, to as minor as pouting and being childish. In a society of adults, we have no room for this manner of impudent behaviour. It wouldn't fly in a place of work, nor should it be acceptable amongst friends. I've seen people react this way and when you're in the thick of it, the immediate response is often to fix the solution. We tend to overlook the underlying revenge being laid upon us because we're too busy trying to backpedal over what we did or said. This one in particular is an issue in couples where one of them is toxic, and because of matters of the heart their significant other tends to look the other way.

There's variations within those rules, and tangents which they all have extending from them, but those are really the basics in my opinion. Often times the hardest fact to deal with is how to cut these people out of your life. The sensible and sensitive part of you resists because you fear they may lash out in some manner when you extract them from your life. Often times this is a scenario which doesn't come to pass. Toxic people are first and foremost survivors, and they will continue to thrive without you. They will find other people to attach themselves to in order to go on. They will blow a lot of smoke, but in the end we rarely risk any actual incidents happening. In the case of the truly unstable, it might be suggested that they seek legitimate counselling or therapy in order to deal with their issues.

We all have issues, I don't want that fact to be ignore in the face of this rant, but it's how we deal with those issues that makes us toxic or not. As an example, these past two years haven't been particularly kind to me in a lot of ways. It's been bumpy, to be sure, but the manner in which I've handled them should be recognized. I have not played the guilt game on my friends, I did not request free drives to places only I wanted to go. In situations where a drive was offered I would try to find a way to compensate my friends as I know gas isn't cheap. When it came to my auto-immune disorder I didn't make it so the world owed me anything. We're all dealt a hand in life, and every once in a while you're dealt a dud. Some people are not equipped to handle these situations and lash out. All I'm trying to say is take a moment and reflect upon your behaviour and the behaviour of those around. Take stock of your place in life and reflect on how things could be, and how they are.

We are never so fortunate as when we recognize those less fortunate than us, and so long as there is war and famine we in Canada are never so bad off.

Somewhat Stumped.

I didn't post yesterday, and it's not because I had nothing to say, instead it was because I had nothing new to say. While the purpose of this blog is to make record of thoughts that occur to me, I can see the value in keeping a series of different commentaries running at once. To say the same thing over and over again becomes dull, and therefore the blog becomes dull.

I've got a friend who lives in America who I met online through World of Warcraft when I still played. Many people feel that individuals you meet online can hardly be called friends, and that it's best to keep them distanced from your personal life. When I first logged onto the internet many moons ago, I agreed with this thinking. I developed an online alias that I would refer to when people wanted to know more information about me. I was a kid, but I wasn't dumb. As time passed and I began to play World of Warcraft, I came to know several of those people very well. I knew their names, their kids names, what state they lived in and what their jobs were. Now some cynic might say that I was being fed a line, and that they were maintaining an alias much in the same way I did. I suppose that's possible, but with the length of time I knew some of these people, and the degree to which I knew about them personally really made it unlikely that this was the case. If they were putting me on, then it'd be impressed with the level of dedication they gave to their personae.

When I took some time off of World of Warcraft about two years ago, I lost contact with all of these people I had met and interacted with. It was during a fairly tumultuous time in my life, so I can't really say I paid too much attention to that fact. When I returned a few months later, I was welcomed back with open arms and they invited me into the new guild. It is in this guild that I came to know "Faunna", as was her character name. She would comment on the wolf I used as a pet named "Remus", and we would chat here and there. One day I got word that the small population of girls in the guild would talk about me in a separate channel they had, and my interests were peaked. Not specifically from any kind of romantic angle, rather that I was being discussed without my prior knowledge. It's something I'm always paranoid about, that people are talking about me when I'm not around. A sign of a big ego, I suppose.

Long story short, I began to chat with Faunna on a fairly regular basis. We would share stories about what was going on with us at any particular time, and we even had a few more serious chats about some heavy topics. When she left World of Warcraft we maintained our correspondence through email, an exercise which I have not bothered to do with anyone else from those days. We have an interesting relationship to say the least. When I say relationship, I inferring to friendship and not romance. I think we both understand that the nature of our friendship is one best maintained as is, a sort of unspoken agreement that our communication via email is in its own way kind of sweet.

Not unlike two friends sharing letters overseas, worlds apart we learn a little something new about one another each time we send a letter in response to the one we just received. One day, if everything worked out well I'd enjoy sharing a dinner and coffee with Faunna, grounding the nebulous relationship we have. As it is, at times in can feel somewhat abstract to have so close a friendship with someone you've never officially met. In ways that's also a good thing, too. We are two minds, to voices chatting with one another, issues of the physical world are left at the keyboard as we share what happened to us in the weeks past.

I think what I'm trying to express is that we've got a friendship unlike any that I share with my local friends. Those that know me, John the person and the body I live in know a great deal about me, but I can safely say beyond any apprehension that she knows just a bit more. One day we may share a coffee together, but until that day comes I rather enjoy having a friend with whom I can share divisions of myself that help bridge the ether between us.

Not unlike smokes signals, do I send word across the wireless river in an effort to connect with a thinning vapour waving faintly back at me through pine and maple.

Cliff Notes.

When the words meant more than the notes they arrived on,
and the bands were both servants and masters of their fans,
we began to listen.

They shook the earth, summoned up the storm and heralded the tides,
we were alive when we heard them, windows down, volume up,
we began to feel the message.

Who we were, what we wore, how we thought,
where were you when the music stopped?
We were now thinking with our hearts.

Children of torn denim and disenfranchisement,
forced to revel in an oxymoronic life of consuming and condemning consumption.
What happens when the gods die?

Cobain wrote his goodbye in lead and unintelligible Morse code,
like others before, he was lost in his own mythos,
a champion of the hopeless to the very end.

Late 90's, platform shoes, music was now ironic,
used to sell clothing and Spice Girl-theme Kleenex.
Music became the ice cream truck of commerce.

Like Anne Frank, true music now hides from the powers that be,
marginalized into obscurity, true marvels as scarce as water on Mars.
For now locked in stasis, hoping to hold on long enough for a revival.

March on, you King Street marvels! Let music once again be,
and when it is, let it thrive for it is precious and rare.
Music once maintained the unique blessing of being art, and having mass appeal.

Let it bless us once again.

Time Keeps On Slipping.

I cannot believe it's Friday already. I have missed more days of posting than I think is good for someone trying to maintain a blog, so let me do some updating.

Wednesday was spent in Toronto going to Sunnybrook Hospital where I see Dr. Scott Walsh, Head of Dermatology. He's one of those men who clearly enjoys his job so much, and treats each patient as an individual challenge. As such I've received magnificent treatment from him, and each time I go back I'm much better. He's still frustrated that the condition hasn't fully dissipated yet, but he's hopeful and patient as am I.

Thursday was spent with an early day at work, where I worked my ass off, made great sales and did some store upkeep as well. The day was brutally hot, and hanging heavy wool rugs made it feel like the air conditioning was non-existent. Getting out into my car was miserable, I had all four windows rolled down and it felt like a hairdryer instead of a cooling breeze. I opted for the air conditioning instead, which didn't really make a difference until I was almost home.

That evening, which is to say tonight I went to the Just For Laughs comedy show at Massey Hall in Toronto. Thanks to a friend for scoring those tickets, the show was hilarious and I got to see one of my new favourite comedians perform live, so that in itself was quite a treat. The company I went with was good, and even though five people in a car can be a tad cramped, I can't think of four other people I'd rather be cramped in a car with.

I'm not sure how that's suppose to sound.

Not that we're all caught up, I suppose I should get to the meat of this post. On the ride home, two of my friends (as they are often prone to do) found themselves casually discussing something I've heard referred to as the Imp of the Perverse. Effectively what this sensation is can best be described by the feeling one gets when behind the wheel of a car. Occasionally and ever so briefly thoughts will enter your head like, "I could turn the wheel and drive of this bridge if I wanted to." They're not suicidal thoughts, rather they're just passing flashes of power. It's the same if you were to be hammering something together, and you think you could just toss this hammer through a pane of glass. I've talked to people who dismiss this from happening to the, which I call bullshit on. I'm not saying that you want to act on these impulses, but to say you don't have them seems to be saying you don't have a personality.

We are bombarded daily with situations that provide us with chances at mayhem and chaos. Any time you get behind the wheel of a car, or lift something heavy, or even make supper I find most people get tiny fantasies about what they could do if they could get away with it. I think that's the trigger, though that sets off our conscience, the risk of getting caught or personally afflicted. Even if it's our own sense of guilt that "catches" us from doing things, we don't want to have to cope with the aftermath of things we want to do at others expense. It's an interesting conundrum that I imagine a super hero would find them self in. Assuming they were the only super hero in existence, and for simplicity sake let's choose Superman what is it really that stops them from doing whatever they want? Imagine if Superman were a sociopath, incapable of feelings of remorse, guilt, sympathy or empathy. I couldn't imagine a more terrifying comic book prospect than that.

Well it's late and I'm tired, and I have another early day ahead of me tomorrow. Hopefully I'll regain some momentum and write a post with a bit more heft to it.

Tiny Nests.

I was in town with my dad earlier today when we pulled up to a stop light. I looked out the window to my right and saw a tiny bird trimming a small patch of grass that had sprung up through the sidewalk with its beak. Amidst all the traffic and noise of the city, here was this tiny bird gathering bedding for a nest it was no doubt repairing after some of the high wind we've had lately.

The world is filled with creatures that maintain the balance of things despite man's introduction of society. Birds build nests in our factories, raccoons find solace beneath our houses and sheds and insects can be found in nearly every square foot. It speaks to the flexibility of nature in the face of overwhelming circumstances. Even if the world became entirely industrialized, and there wasn't a bit of green space left, I have no doubt that somehow, someway nature would find a place.

The beasts and insects of the planets that are alive today are relatives of prehistoric grandparents. While we don't have dinosaurs roaming around the Earth, we still have crocodiles and Komodo dragons. Insects have especially seen little change since their days with the dinosaurs, so specific and intentional is their design.

In the grand scheme of things, man's time on the planet has certainly been brief. It will be interesting to see what changes we as a species will undergo in the next thousand years. I feel as though we are still primitive in our own right, with so much more evolution yet to come. As a creature, we have achieved some remarkable features in our evolution. Our bipedal nature and forward facing eyes have made us excellent hunters, and the evolution of language has allowed us to expedite information from one another. However, our soft skin is very susceptible to injury and disease, and there is so much in our fast-paced mechanical world that can injure or kill us with little warning. I'd imagine somewhere in our future we will find ways, either evolutionary or technologically to combat our shortcomings.

That's what's truly unique about mankind as a species. We are able to fill in the gaps in our evolutionary design with technology to such an incredible degree. I think it's safe to say that we are fully capable of integrating technology as an aspect of our physical evolution. We are as reliant upon the machines that keep us alive as they are upon us for their existence. It's somewhat symbiotic, save for the fact that unlike true symbiosis, our machines do not serve a purpose other than that for which they were created. They do not better themselves for being part of us, they simply "aren't", without our hand to create them.

It will be a truly chilling day the moment a machine creates another machine with no other purpose than a desire to create, for what defines life better than a need to reproduce.

Eve Of The Semi-Centennial.

Well here we are, nearly 50 posts down, many more to come.

I think about where my life will take me, what sort of things I will encounter as I pass through the years of my life. While I can guess, I really don't know in the slightest how things will work out. There's nothing wrong with planning, I absolutely recommend looking ahead and setting yourself up for a life that's everything you want it to be. If you're incredibly lucky, you'll end up there.\

When I think back to my high school days, especially my final year I was presented (like any graduate) with the question of, "What next?". What did the next year hold for me, the next five, the next two decades, etc. What did I want to accomplish and how as I going to go about doing this? I never really knew what I wanted to do. I can think about a time I was with my dad at a Subway having lunch and we were discussing the possibility of me going to university. He's been very adamant about his children having a post-secondary education, and I felt like I was letting him down by not going. I explained to him that it didn't make sense for me to go to university without a clue of what I wanted to accomplish. Of course I was younger then, and didn't really understand that going to school isn't about knowing what you want to do, it's about knowing you want to find out. I made the decision to continue to work at the restaurant I was working at, telling myself that I could one day make this an actual career.

It was around this time that I had come to know one of my neighbours, Stephanie a bit better than I had at school. During high school we would talk on occasion, but it was purely a school friendship and never extended beyond that. One day when walking home from the bus, she asked if I wanted to come to her house for cake and the friendship extended beyond the school grounds. While I could dedicate an entire blog to the complexities of those first few months, I think only a few things really need be said. First off, she needed work and I got her to apply at the restaurant. She and my brother began dating for a while, but for reasons I am still incredibly ashamed of to this day I broke them up and began dating her myself. We moved in together the following September where I worked at Pier 1, and she worked at a local clothing store. My entire experience with her makes me feel shaky, weak, ill and angry. I'm hoping in putting this down in writing it will help accomplish some sort of catharsis. We didn't work out as a couple, and we broke up and she moved out. For about a year or so afterwards we remained "friends", but I was always attracted to her, physically. When I was afflicted with my condition I hit some pretty severe lows. As my dad will recall there were nights where I would lay on the ground screaming and crying, my legs were covered in blood and my back was ripped open.

I can only say that it is a situation that I should never wish on any soul that has ever lived, or has yet to live.

I knew that we weren't going to get back together, but I tried to make my peace with that. I got a new job, and moved out with some friends of mine. I tried to make the best of the situation and tried to put her and my condition behind me. I was only in the apartment about a month when I got into my accident. She visited me in the hospital, but I was fairly out of it so I don't recall feeling anything in particular. Our friendship continued for several months after that until I couldn't tolerate the fact that she had already been through several guys since then. I called her one night, utterly despondent and asked where she was. She said she was at her new boyfriends house. I asked if she was staying the night, she said she was. I told her we could never speak again. We haven't since.

There's no way I could have foresaw what was to come in the next four years while I was at high school. I could not have begun to imagine the emotional and physical turmoil I would endure in such a short time. In many ways I am thankful for those experiences, they forced me to grow, to become something better than I was. That doesn't mean they didn't also have negative effects as well. Physically I'm not who I should be at 24 years of age. Mentally I feel somewhat burdened by a wealth of experience I was not prepared to carry. I've had great people along for the ride with me. My friends, my family have all helped me deal with this topsy-turvy ride I've been strapped in to.

As I look forward to the coming school year in September, I can't help but feel a bit nervous about what's ahead of me. In some ways I'm scared that it will be over my head, and that I will crash and burn. There's a fear that it will be a lonely experience, one where I either shut people out, or am avoided in the first place. I write this blog for many reasons. I write it for the few people who read it, I write it for myself to record things, but I have also written it as a sort of continuing resume for my life. When I meet people in college who come to know me, and want to learn more I will simply hand them a piece of paper with the address to this blog on it. They will be hard pressed to find a more honest and frank introduction.

I know that while I could die tomorrow or live to be 98, the ultimate direction my life takes will depend on the choices I and those around me make.

Things Of Which I Have Spake.

On this blog I've commented on a number of things, a recurring theme is often where I stand with relationships and women in general. I'd like to set a few things in order in regards to that.

First off, I think women are beautiful. While beauty is certainly a matter of personal taste, the kind of women I find attractive can really put me in my place. I'm a fast thinker and a fast talker, but like a cartoon character my tongue gets tied when I interact with a girl I think is attractive. I understand I'm not the kind of fellow whose looks are substantial enough to attract women outright. Often it takes time for them to get to know me to find out if I'm there type. While this can work in my favour, in that it allows me to get to know them better too, if nearly eliminates any chance of a summer fling, or anything so whimsical as that. I'm 24, I've come to accept that.

With my auto-immune disorder throwing new roadblocks down for me, I found myself comforted by a sort of resentment I established towards the opposite sex. I felt empowered by assigning myself a certain degree of disinterest. Of course this disinterest was fairly forced and almost entirely dishonest with my true nature. I have no desire to be a player by any stretch of the imagination, but like any man I crave a woman's touch and their company. I do fear being left, but that's part of the risk you take when you begin a new relationship.

To date I've only been in one relationship ever. I had to deal with people assuming I was gay through high school, which left me single and my first relationship was so fraught with bizarreness that it can hardly have been called healthy. I am still very new to the dating world, and I know my personality type. I am easily wounded, so reliant upon success and happiness that when presented with anything less I go into defensive mode, making jokes and becoming angry inside. A few posts back I wrote a short piece about a fictitious relationship idea. The elements of it were a mix of hopeful, and realistic. I don't imagine I'll be single for the rest of my life, but I certainly know I won't be happy immediately. I'm too keen to find someone specific that it will be almost impossible for anyone to live up to those expectations. I don't want to have to lower them, but at the same time I don't want to deal with the inevitable hurt.

I can't begin to understand a woman no more than I can begin to understand my fellow man. I attempt, vainly at times to question and pry my way into the mind of those in my life in hopes of gleaning information about their machinations I didn't otherwise know. The women in my life, the few that there are seem somehow dreamlike to me. What I mean to say is, that they're kind and reasonable people whose existence seems to fly in the face of what I need to believe. I don't count my mother in this equation, as she's so detached at times it's hard to forge any kind of relationship with her, let alone maintain one.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry. Sorry to those who read previous posts and formed an opinion of me which may have been somewhat loaded. The anger and resentment I feel never really overrides my nature, though it does sometimes nudge it into avenues not of my choosing.

We cannot choose the things we love or hate, only the manner in which we love and hate them.

I Miss My Vespa

I really do.

Rise Of The Saturnians

If you have a moment, read Voltaire's "Micromegas". It's essentially one of the first science fiction pieces ever written, and established some qualities of sci-fi that we adhere to today. It's an introspective look at Western society as viewed by an outside being. It can be a bit tedious to read, but the fundamentals are interesting.

This post was suppose to happen yesterday, but I didn't get around to finishing it so here it is now. I had one of those mornings where I set my alarm to PM instead of AM and it caused me to miss calling in for my flex shift. Really, really bad, but thankfully the manager on duty didn't seem too put off by it. I think the appropriate thing to do would be to tell my manager what happened, just on the off chance the manager on duty said something and I look like I'm hiding the fact.

I've started to listen to a lot more radio these past few months than I ever have in my entire life. As I am taking the radio broadcasting program at Conestoga College in the fall, I figured it was appropriate for me to become slightly more in touch with the field I hope to one day work in. It may seem odd that I applied for radio broadcasting when I don't really have a huge background of radio knowledge, but for me the goal was more about working in the entertainment industry in a field I can do more than anything else. I have always wanted to be in the Hollywood scene, and perhaps one day I may be granted the opportunity, but until then I'll just have to start building a foundation for myself. Radio gives me an opportunity to hone my voice, by which I mean the physical qualities of my voice as well as the message I give out innately. There's a certain truth we come to believe from people in the media. When we hear it on the news or on the TV, no matter how absurd the statement is. That's a lot of responsibility for a person to have, and it's a responsibility I look forward to wielding.

Changing gears, on my way home I saw for bright orange objects travelling together in the night sky. They first looked like planets, but their movement was too quick and stable to be anything extra planetary. I figure it was just space junk re-entering the atmosphere and burning up. Nonetheless, always kind of fun to let your mind wander to thoughts of aliens.

Saw Knight and Day today, not bad, good fun, nothing "stellar".

A Week Of Days.

I've been off-kilter all this week. To start with, I completely missed an appointment I had on Monday, thinking it was Sunday. I then called the next day, knowing full well it was Tuesday to cancel my appointment from Monday. They informed me that I had missed that appointment, so I had to cancel my next one as well on Wednesday. Part of the reason for this is because my brother's been home a few days during the week from work, taking advantage of his holidays. I don't plan my weekends around him, but my brain seemed to think that his presence made it a different day than it was.

When I wasn't sleeping well, I would stay up all night working on this and that, and over two years of living like that the days start to lose meaning. I would stay up all night, sleep all day and when I awoke again it would be supper time. It's most likely unhealthy for the mind and body to live like that, and that's where my responsibilities for making dinner came in. Realizing my mother wasn't really able to cook, and knowing I had plenty of time I took this opportunity to start making supper for the family. It gave me a sense of purpose as well as the option to be creative.

Now that I've gone back to work, I'm so tired at the end of a shift that my desire to go to bed at a reasonable hour is totally achievable. I get to that point where even the act of undressing is tedious and heavy, and I often flop down in my sheets still fully dressed. I've been up the past two nights because I forgot to take my medication, and that tends to keep me wired. I know that tomorrow, though with a five hour shift in the evening that I'll just want to come home and sleep. My leg has been very sore the past few days, today most of all. It's moved from the knee and the muscles and now feels like a deep bone ache. The feeling is like I've been hit in the hip and shin with a bat and this is the residual ache that would follow.

NinjaVideo.net, a website that I would watch my TV shows on as been canned. I won't bore you with the details, just read this.

I was hoping to make my first post of July something grand, but that's the thing with the thought process that goes into this blog.

There isn't one.

Therefore, if I haven't a clue in my head of what I want to talk about, then nothing gets talked about. There isn't a round table discussion, a team of writers at my back. Just my brain, and the funny things that occur to me. That reminds me, I went to the nearby Tim Horton's in Baden. They're notorious for screwing up orders. I was with my parents and I ordered a chicken salad sandwich on white. I got an egg salad sandwich on whole wheat. Now I like whole what, but egg salad doesn't do it for me. When I took it back to the cash to be corrected she apologized and said they were out of buns. What I should have done is returned the sandwich and taken my money back. This of course occurred to me when I was in the car on the way home. Instead I took the sandwich and ate two bites out of it. It remains sitting on my sofa behind me. I tried to look for a silver lining in all of this, so I joked with my dad that she got my order right she was just a few weeks too early with the chicken.

These past two years have been about finding a lot of silver linings.