old habits die hard

remember making mixtapes?

they live. make your own, if you get bored of listening to mine. share and share alike. 

dustbunny.muxtape.com

thinking green. sort of.

Skimming the weekend editions of our venerable major broadsheets, there is a noticeable difference in the way tonight's Earth Hour is being covered by our national and local newspapers. 

The Star, unsurprisingly, has embraced the darkness with open (smothering?) arms, updating the top story of their website as the environmental shadow rolls through each major time zone. "Scandinavia darkens" sounds awfully ominous if you take it out of context, but I digress. 

The Globe meanwhile is approaching tonight's... festivities, with a fistful of salt. Rex Murphy's op-ed piece, while hitting an awful lot of nails on the head, also manages to make him seem more sourpuss than John Lithgow was in Flashdance. 

The Life section of the Globe also features a to-do list for tonight that plants its tongue so firmly in its cheek you almost expect the writer to don a Captain Planet costume tonight and run around purple-nurpling hippies. 

The contrast I think speaks a lot to how we as global citizens have accepted the commodification of environmentalism. Although I also believe the reality of the situation is complex and lies in a happy medium, both views will certainly hold more than a modicum of truth up to our organic wax candles this evening. 

see you in the morning.

petit parce que tous et jambon

Awards from Columbia University! 

I said I'd never drink again. 

I lied. 

sweet googly moogly

as a testament to entry #89 of my current favourite blog, st. patty's '08 was indeed a 24-hour... surreal thompson-esque romp of hedonism, which i will not soon (if ever) forget. and rest assured it wasn't because of the parade -- although we did get to heckle rudy giuliani from spitting distance.

new york is great, but going on a giant three-day bender with 30 classmates in new york?

priceless.

and by priceless, i mean about $300.

bringing it back to the lede

at the conclusion of a great novel, one feels disappointed that the ride is over, but would never wish that the author had tacked on an additional 100 pages just because it was a good book. no, the timing of the end is just as integral a part of the work as the very first sentence itself.

and so it was that as the wire came to a close, i was left with a palpable sense of contentment, if such a thing exists. it was the way it was meant to be, no more no less, and it was perfect in exactly that way.

it's difficult to explain the appeal of the wire not because the plot is complicated. if you were to hit the "info" button on your digital cable box, the one sentence description would sum up the series quite aptly; something along the lines of "cops and drug dealers struggle to maintain control over Baltimore city streets."

what is difficult is explaining the nuance and subtleties of the show that make it probably the most well written and thorough piece of art ever to grace a television screen.

granted, the program skews towards a heavily male demographic. but the depth with which the show is written, the broad swath of social, political and economical intricacies that it tackles successfully is simply astounding. one could easily argue that watching this show could teach you more about the cynical realities of bureaucracy and social injustice than any university course you could ever sit in on.

much has been said about the fact that the wire helps us see ourselves for who we really are, from the macro scale of urban social and infrastructure decay to the individuality of our own ethical and moral statutes. "we're writing greek tragedies," said wire creator david simon in a recent interview with the onion video club.

greek tragedies were meant to be parables however, and as such one is left to ponder the lessons the wire is trying to teach us.

you see the tragedy unfolding before you, the heroes, the pitfalls, the failures and the pariahs. so what do you take away from it?

there's not much more you can ask of a television show.

the wire said what it felt needed to be said in the most concise and eloquent way it could say it.

knowing that it came from the pen of an ex-journalist, this is an accomplishment of truly grand proportions.

naming the last episode "-30-" was something maybe not every viewer will understand. the symbol represents the end of every filed work in a newsroom, marking the final stroke of your story. that poignancy is a perfect example of the show's awe inspiring attention to detail.

what a fitting end to a wonderful work of social commentary.

hamster huey and the gooey kablooey

In light of this whole Spitzer scandal, I'm trying to decide if I'd be more offended to find out my spouse was cheating on me the regular way or paying for sex with a prostitute. I'm inclined to think the latter is less hurtful in terms of taking a hit to my ego, however it would also be somewhat more disturbing in that I would seriously, seriously question my judgement.

In terms of self-worth however, I think I'd definitely choose fate B given the previously mentioned option. Heck, if the prostitute was super smoking, I'd probably understand. I mean, if someone OFFERED me $4000 to sleep with them, I'd probably be like "are you nuts? I'm not worth that much."

Not to say I'm easy. Just... pragmatic.

pbj

Alas, I am out of jelly. Looks like lunch will just be peanut butter today... that's kind of like having a car with no windshield -- it'll get the job done, but you're probably not going to like it.

We all make purchases we regret (right now, I'm looking at some Bjork concerts that were bootlegged onto VHS and a copy of Gunstar Heroes for the Sega Megadrive. Did I mention I own neither a VCR nor a Megadrive?)

I must say though that at the time, these seemed like wise purchases. I cannot fathom why. 

Here is a list of things that I used to think were cool, but sadly, no longer like. (And to Dashboard Confessional -- I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me).

- FILA 

- EZ Mac

- Emo music

- Television

- Second Cup

- Guitar Hero 

- Alicia Silverstone (Part of me fears one day she will read this, and it will cost me my chance.)

- HTML

- Skee-ball 

- Turtleneck sweaters

- Professional Wrestling

- Dragonboat racing

- Michael Moore

- Naps

Here, conversely, is a list of things I have begun to grow a new appreciation for:

- Sandwiches

I am going to school Sherman Hamilton

We had some good times, Humber. 

I'm not going to say it was all sunshine and rainbows, but I will certainly shed a tear before i step out the door this one last time. 

I will not divulge however whether it is a single tear of joy or sadness. 

Here's a hint though: it won't be sadness. 

See you in New York.

Kangaroo's with bicycle helmets

I feel a rant coming...

Postgraduate experiences can be dissected many different ways, but one of the most obvious and common is the distinction between staying at home for university or moving away.

Many people who stay at home for their undergrad years lament their decision post-graduation. Even greater are the number of individuals who moved away, and often feel superior as a result to their stay-at-home friends in terms of life experience.

These individuals can be identified by their dismissive hand gestures, and posited theories of "they're just making up for not moving away for university" as a universal explanation for any sort of behaviour related to post-graduate identity crises -- particularly if that behaviour involves drinking a lot and generally not being a boring adult.

Obviously these are not absolute archetypes. There are certainly stay-at-home university students who see the world with moved-away eyes and vice versa.

My thought is not so much that these delineations exist (because most of us would concede that they do), but moreso the haughtiness of moved-away eyes on their poorer and more wordly brethren.

I suppose in simplified terms, I'm talking about the existing paradigms and social constructs of "adult", "responsibility" and even "maturity". I realize this all seems terribly post-modernistic, but that really isn't what I'm getting at here. Bear with me.

My point isn't that "adulthood is whatever you make it" or any sort of frivolity. Rather I wonder more if our ideals of adulthood are not sadly, sadly misguided?

I was thinking about why I want to do what I want to do, and it occurred to me through various discussions about my chosen vocation and some political chats that the reason I feel what I am doing is important is because, well, it is important. Very very important.

All I want to do with my life is inform people. Through stories, through insight, through commentary, I want people to be educated and thoroughly understanding of the world around them from every possible angle in order to make decisions about life and their role in our global society. I feel currently we make so many of our decisions with little to no regard of the consequences of our actions.

I see blood being shed for democracy in Pakistan and Kenya, genocide being committed over the right to a fair election, and yet here in Canada we can barely get people to leave their houses to vote. Worse yet, those who do vote are often woefully ignorant of what and who they are voting for, often relegating our most sacred of civil rights to nothing more than a glorified popularity contest.

I see kids growing up (and hell, peers) who will view a youtube video 10 times before they ever watch the news, or read US magazine until it is dog-eared before they ever pick up an article in Mother Jones.

Accusations of snobbishness or not, that isn't the point. My point is that if knowledge is power, we as a generation are keeping ourselves powerless, then complaining about why our world is crumbling around us.

Why global warming? Why war? Why recession?

Why ask questions why when all you need to do is ask how?

Our definition of a mature adult is just someone who has a 9-5, raises 2.5 kid and owns a white picket fence.

But the world is bigger than your backyard, and I feel like in order to really grow up, we're going to need to realize that sooner rather than later.

Now go read a newspaper. Please.

I don't like to stereotype, but...

I came home today to discover a box of Chunky soup sitting by our front door, roughly 20 cans worth of mixed variety.

Note: nobody in my household eats/drinks Chunky soup. I make soup maybe once every six months in an act of desperation should there be no other food options available; my parents probably even less. 20 cans may not sound like a lot to people who actually eat this stuff, but in my house it's about on par with discovering a flock of parrots in your living room.

My dad literally came running down the hall when he heard me come in.

"You hungry? Want some soup?" he asked with strange enthusiasm.
"Not really..." although at this point, the obvious question had to be asked. "Where did all this soup come from?"
"It was a such a good deal. One dollar a can."
"Who's going to eat all this soup?"
"I don't know. But look, there are different types"
"OK... you know, I don't think we're ever going to eat all this"
"What does [insert mangled English pronunciation of minestrone] mean?"

As an added bonus, last week he came home with a family-sized pack of life-savers candy. Who eats life-savers anymore? We were literally giving them away to various house visitors, and we mostly forced them onto people against their consent.

Our pantry is a veritable treasure trove of bargain-bin foods that will never see the light of day.

I was going to write a post with more gravitas, but now it seems dour of me. Perhaps tomorrow.

status update

... is thinking about perming her hair...any suggestions? ... is staying awake until this thing is finished!! ... doesn't believe in fairy tales.. but Barack Obama is pretty damn close... knows that he has to trust Him... and everything will be alright... Fear and Loathing in Port Hope... is in MIS... is thankful that God does answer prayers!... is pop bottles on three... knows that a watched pot never boils.

if you know me, you know i am not a huge facebook fan. 

i find it pointless outside of stalking, although i will admit to indulging in it every once and a while in order to see what other people are up to. i can do this because many of my acquaintances lay their lives pretty much bare on facebook, if not literally than with little updates or additions or subtractions that are subtle gestures of how they are currently feeling with life.

in a relationship? just broken up? got engaged? got a job? accepted to a school? moved to a new networ... i mean, city?

i'm a sucker enough for post-modernist fluff in that i can sometimes see through my social networking puritanical streak and actually find something kind of artistic within the jumbled mass of graffiti walls and scrabulous games. 

i usually do that by reading status updates. i find it fascinating sometimes to just scroll through a page or two of people's status updates. in essence it is a persons desire to connect and share with those around them. it's what's engaging your time and thoughts at the moment, whether expressed literally or obtusely, without pretensions because if that were the case you probably aren't bothering to update your status at all. 

it's an exercise often participated in with so much familiarity and comfort that people really let their internet guards down and honestly update a thin slice of their lives into it. i just find it amazing how accurate status updates seem to be, in many cases more real than people are when you see them in person.

reading status updates is kind of like being able to close your eyes and hear the thoughts of all your friends in your head. 

it's also probably why i refuse to do it myself, haha

glass bottles and sandwiches sliced diagonally

i think i'm just about ready for winter to end.

my mood has mellowed dramatically since it has been all snow/rain/cold/grey. 

if this pattern continues at its current rate, i fully expect to be massively suffering from seasonal affective disorder by the time i finally have a real job. 

this is disconcerting to me, because frankly i don't fully believe this is a real issue.

i mean, wah wah, it's dark outside. really? 

besides, who's to say winter is making you sad? maybe you're naturally sad, but summer is making you happy. that way we can use the phrase in a more positive light. 

"Thankfully, you have seasonal affective disorder. It's the only thing getting you through the year. Here's a pair of sunglasses and two passes to a tanning salon; come see me again next month." 

also, on the bright side (har har) you could tell people with SAD (i just realized that acronym as i typed that out...) that they aren't depressed, they're just kryptonian and their happiness is dependent on their alien DNA being powered by earth's yellow sun. 

actually, just thinking that makes the bitter cold all the more easy to bear. 

the valentines post

recent survey says 55 per cent of people believe in love at first sight.

this is either a painful reminder that we watch way too many movies, or a pitiful reflection on our societies definition of love.

i don't think it's possible to love somebody without knowing them well. then again, maybe i'm just a cynical bastard.

randoms

old people just shouldn't drive

really. there needs to be some sort of legislation about this. i've trudged through the wind and snow to brush off my car. i'm cold, soaked to the bone, and driving conditions are atrocious as it is. the last thing i need to do is fear some crazy old person who shouldn't be on the road is going to do something stupid and either cost me money or get me killed. 

at the very least they should be forced to pass a driving test every year once they pass a certain age. i mean, they aren't working anymore, they certainly have the time to take a few driving tests. yeesh.

and now, an example of how cold it currently is inside my bedroom.

cue it up

i am becoming a shower-tendency discriminator.

people have their tendencies, but there is one particular species of humanity that has always left me scratching my head: the morning showerer. 

now, don't get me wrong, i have nothing against showering in the morning when it is the only logical course of action (for example, you get home late and are exhausted). what i'm talking about is patterns, and for me personally, i prefer to shower every night before i go to bed.

much like every super hero has a super villain counterpart however, there exists in this world a subset of (possibly evil) individuals who choose to regularly shower every morning instead. 

this makes no sense to me. 

the one instance that always blows my mind is that once, after some mild sporting activity, i told a morning-showering-friend i was with that i was going to shower before we headed out for evening activities. her response to my asking if she would like to shower as well (separately, not WITH me. get your head out of the gutter) was "no, it's ok. i showered already in the morning." 

now, call me a stickler for semantics, but showering once a day is not the same thing as showering once a day BEFORE you get dirty. the whole reason i prefer to shower before bed is so that i can feel clean and comfortable in my bed, and that my sheets remain relatively pristine compared to the mess-that-is-my-room. 

why would anyone want to go to bed with a day's accumulation of dirt on them, then clean themselves off in the morning? isn't that the equivalent of laying in your own filth (literally)?

somebody explain this phenomenon to me. i think it's absurd and have spent much of my life trying to patiently understand the rationale behind what should just be another way of doing things, but now i have reach my curiosity's breaking point. i require a reasonable explanation for this behavior, or else i am just going to paint all morning showerers with the same broad and judgmental stroke of uncleanliness.

manatee destiny

it's funny that winter is considered the darker season of the year. it's true that night falls earlier during the colder months, but the truth is that when it's overcast and there's a sheen of white snow on the ground, there's enough light pollution bouncing around everywhere that even without the moon anywhere to be seen, 3am can seem just as well lit as 3pm. that's the case tonight. 

with the lights off, my room is still lit up from the light outside, as if the black itself had been sucked out of the sky and replaced with a dull orange-grey hue that leaves one unsatisfied with the current presentation of "night time", or whatever you want to call this non-black night. 

it's a weird light though, because outside isn't what i would really call lit up, or bright. its more night time defined not by darkness but merely by an absence of lightness, if that makes any sense. i find it very curious, and for some reason a little unsettling, as if i'm sleeping under the amber glow of some giant highway street light circa mid nineteen nineties, before white lights became all the rage, and orange light was the cool way to tint our after hours worlds. 

it's just not dark out, i don't know why i've been so obsessed over this the past few nights, but i find that it really bugs me. i wish the dark would just return. then maybe i could sleep again.

the floor is really cold

the hours: 3 days a week, 9am-7pm

the pay: $20 ... a day

the perks: all you can drink gatorade, free shoes and tshirts.*

the experience: networking galore, real press deadlines, corporate communications

the resume: news releases, media advisories, (inter)nationally distributed publication 

the doubts: contract position, relevant experience, location

*and more wristbands than you can shake a stick at

i'm not going to lie and say there are no complaints. but they're acceptable complaints. 

so things are good. and that's the update.

bespoke is a funny word

ideas is airing on cbc1 right now, and this week's special is titled "measure of a man," an in-depth look into the suit. it's fascinating, not just in terms of the historical, but from the semiotic perspective of the modern male suit.

dressing well as a man is an interesting topic -- one littered with subjectivity that ultimately is never really quite that subjective at all.

thinking about how you dress (from a man's perspective) is often seen as preening, but i've never understood why this is. it seems sillier to me to put absolutely no thought into how you dress, because how you present yourself is so influential on your daily experience.

there's several particularly good quotes from the broadcast, but one in particular where an older woman who is quite knowledgeable about fashion makes the following comment:

women are never held accountable for what they wear. invitations always say black tie only, they never say what women should wear. it is men who are held accountable by the clothes that they put on, and for that reason i've always considered men's fashion more important than women's.