The opposite of narcolepsy

I suppose technically it would be insomnia, but that implies to me that narcolepsy is just that you sleep all the time. I was under the impression narcoleptics were equally categorized due to the fact that they can't control when thy fall asleep either, so technically insomnia's bizzarro doppelganger should be like, uncontrollable prolonged hibernation, or a mini-coma or something no? 

The reason I wonder is because I think I have whatever the opposite of narcolepsy is. I keep waking up for no reason, regardless of what time I sleep. The last few nights I've gone to bed at myriad times: 11pm, 12am, 3am, 2am and I always wake up naturally sometime between 5-7am. 

I haven't woken up to sunlight in over a week. I don't know why my body is doing this to me, sleeping is one of my special powers. This is like if Superman woke up one day and fell off a building trying to fly, or Oprah woke up and wasn't hungry -- it's unthinkable. 

Now, I realize this isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's no coincidence I suppose that I've been more productive in regards to job searching and freelance work in the last week than I have in the entire month prior. Being awake before noon afford me all sorts of time to do work and still have my fun at night -- what a concept! 

I'm just curious why all of a sudden this would happen though? It's like my body is trying to tell me something, probably along the lines of "Hey dumbass, I'm sore from lying here." 

Fortunately, I often go to McDonalds for breakfast these days, so I suppose I still have the last laugh on my being. Take THAT colon. 

Common sense news

The CBC morning reporter is on location to get opinions about a possible coalition government. 

"It's pretty overwhelming negative," she concluded. Of course, she was standing in front of a Tim Hortons at 7am in the morning. 

I'm guessing if she was at a Starbucks there might have been a different conclusion drawn. 

Little things like that bother me about newscasts. Why are you so lazy? Go to a subway station or something. 

MP phone home

Down south, President-Elect Obama officially announced the worst kept secret in Washington today when he nominated Hillary Clinton to be the nations next Secretary of State. 

Meanwhile, over in Ottawa, instead of doing things like... ohhhh, running a country, basically everybody is completely engrossed in nothing more than a glorified popularity contest. 

Do I think Stephen Harper is a moron? Sure. Do I think there will be a marked difference in policy if the Liberals are in power, or the NDP, or as it would seem is soon to happen, a Liberal Democrat leftist amalgam? Frankly, no. 

Nobody DOES anything in Ottawa. All they do is bicker over who gets to sit in the nicer chair, and meanwhile Canada continues to lack vision and leadership, particularly in trying times.

I don't care who the prime minister is so long as we see results. 

Given our current leadership options (and I use that term extremely loosely), I am skeptical. 

At best. 

Nobody outside of the 613 (or off the hill, for that matter) cares about Ottawa. That should be what they're talking about instead of who gets to rule an indifferent kingdom.

Couplesyncrisies, part 1

Why is it that once someone is in a serious relationship, or engaged, or married, all trace of unique individual presence online is sacrificed for the sake of a combined couple-presence for all communique? 

Emails? Lets just share one. Or perhaps one person will send or receive from the other half's address, but speak for both individuals. Evite? Plus one please, "me and [blank] will be there". 

I've never gotten to this stage, so I must say I am curious; is there some sort of conscious decision to just stop checking your own email at some point? 

I understand this occurrence in the situation where it's some sort of email planning chain, in which case you probably had to confirm if your significant other was coming before you replied, in which case yes it is probably more convenient to reply for them at that point. But that's only if you are replying from your own account. 

Often people reply from their significant other's account. This confuses me. If my girlfriend was sending emails from my account, I would probably punch her in the ovaries. Even if my girlfriend was just reading my emails I'd probably suspect she was turning into Kathy Bates from Misery (Ah, Kanye).

I find shared emails even odder. Why would anyone want to share an email? That's just disorganized. They're free. You probably had one of your own to begin with. Why on earth would you go through all the trouble of telling everyone you know to change their routine and switch to a new account where half the content is going to be irrelevant to you? Plus, you can't even use it professionally. What gives? 

And Evite? C'moonnnnnn, somebody bothered to include you both on a list. Just click the button, how hard is that?

What's next? Shared facebook profiles? I bet people would if they could. And that frightens me.

Bottled Goodness

I woke up this morning to a dog licking me in the face. 

Unbeknownst to me, the brother dropped off the four-legged baby for some dog sitting action. Walking  a dog is not nearly as amusing during minus degree weather as it is when it's sunny and warm outside. 

As much as I like dogs (I also like cats, though admittedly not as much) I've never understood how some people can love them like people. I guess I think it's just because we're all lonely, and we know that pets are the closest thing to unconditional companionship we have. They don't judge you, and you can talk all you want and get nothing but affection in return. 

Also, unlike actual kids, there are no consequences. If you have a misbehaving dog, nobody thinks you're a bad human being. Except judgmental fellow pet owners. But that type of person is probably a douche, so what do you care anyways. 

Did you hear about the gunfight at a Toys 'R' Us during Black Friday?

If only gang fights could be fought with Nerf weapons, the world would be a safer place. 

When did this blog jump the shark?

You know, reading posts from a few years ago (back when my blog titles were all song titles -- how original!), I realized that it was actually pretty entertaining. I mean, if I worked in an office all day, I can see how one might get excited to see what the old chap had thrown up there too.

Not to toot my own horn or anything. But y'know. There was some good, clever, insightful commentary back in those days. 

But now... well, I don't know how or when, but I just stopped posting regularly, and even when I do, it's usually vaguely philosophical or vaguely snarky. Vaguely being the operative word, while I would generally not use entertaining or insightful about any of it. 

This realization is saddening.

So with that in mind, the blog is making a comeback baby. Regular updates. Well thought out posts. Editing. The whole nine yards. Maybe even multiple posts a day. Oooohhhh....

Hell, we all know I have nothing else to do anyways, I mean it's nearly 8am and I frankly have no intention of sleeping still. I think I'll go for McDonald's breakfast, I haven't had that in a long time. 

My parents are also back from their three-month world romp. It's strange having noises in the house again that aren't emanating from me. I even pinched a load and took a shower last night without realizing I left the door wide open until I stepped out of the shower. Good thing it was like, 5am. 

You know why I can't sleep? I'm actually pretty hyper, but I started reading a book at around midnight and I read the whole damn thing through in one sitting. It's one of those contemporary novels with subtext and social commentary about our modern society and the average everyday lives we lead, and how we're all complicated lives, and yadda yadda. 

The thing I mostly got out of it -- which is true -- was how much lying we do in a day. Or at least like, pretending. I mean, it's super cliche but I can't even begin to describe how fake I am in at least 75% of my social interaction. Does this mean that three out of every four conversations you've had with me is a fraud? No, not necessarily. But that probably means we've had conversations where everything I say is dictated by the status quo rather than my own personality. 

But c'mon. Like you don't do it too. 

Poor guy hires little guy to pretend to be poor guy to help poor guy find job

TORONTO - For many people, just looking for a new job can often seem like a full-time job itself. 

Local unemployed man Simon Yau agreed, and decided that in order to maximize the efficiency of his continuing job search, it only made proper business sense to outsource the task to a special consultant. 

"It's been working out great," said Yau, who recently hired eight year old neighbour Josh Sanders on a contract position. Sanders was tasked with applying to jobs and making cold calls on behalf of the 26 year old Yau. 

"I'm a writer, not a salesperson, you know?" explained Yau, "Athletes get agents and lawyers because those aren't their strong suits -- so it just made sense to bring Josh aboard. He sold me a box of chocolate almonds for school earlier this year and you could just tell he was talented. I mean, he really sold those almonds. I bought two boxes." 

A recent statscan survey revealed that small businesses accounted for 74% of all new jobs in 2008, and experts agree that the best way to climb out of the current economic downturn is to loosen some wary purse strings.

Other well-intentioned unemployed people have shown interest in Yau's unorthodox approach, many of whom laud the cash-strapped writers creativity.

"Not only will it help him find a job, but he's also helping to create jobs in a sagging economy," said Eric Sanders, a professional carpenter and father of Josh. "I think more people should follow [Mr. Yau's] lead, Josh comes home every night exhausted but it's cheaper than paying for after school daycare."

"I originally was going to hire someone with a longer resume," conceded Yau, "but honestly, it's just hard to find good help these days. I mean, you trawl through all the applications you get from these websites and really, many of them are just garbage." 

Yau is currently still unemployed as of the time of this story, but has expressed a strong trust in his new hire's ability to get the job done.

"Josh will find me something," said the writer. "He just learned how to use comma's this week, so that'll help immensely I believe."

"I'm learning," agreed the young Sanders, before adding "but work like, sucks."

conversation fodder

You know, a lot of cliches get laughed at as small talk conversation fodder. Things like the weather, or the local sports teams. But you know what? Those topics work every time in breaking the ice and making conversations a little less informal.

I'm slowly developing a philosophy where all my life decisions will be mandated by social cliches and stereotypes. It's foolproof! 

1.20.2009

“Rosa [Parks] sat so Martin [Luther King] could walk. Martin walked so Obama could run. Obama ran so our children could fly,” Mr. Victor said, attributing the poetic phrase to a wise man." The Globe and Mail, November 5, 2008

There's a lot to be said about this night that most people implicitly understood. The gravitas of the moment was communicated even on Fox News, where commentator Juan Williams said, “I don’t care how you feel about him politically, you have to say, this is America at its grandest.”

As a proud Canadian, there is a ready list of reasons why I often find myself looking down on our neighbours to the South (not just geographically, har har). 

But on this night, America's Spirit cannot be doubted. It appears in glimpses, in times of trial and perhaps momentarily during the Olympics. But for the first time in my life, I recognized it  clearly during the most democratic of events; an election for the head of state. 

It is humbling not only to witness such a wonderful moment in history, but to consider contextually the fact that this U.S. election saw a record voter turnout in the same year Canada's participation levels dropped to an all time low. 

It has been an incredibly long time since the world has admired the United States of America. We sympathized with her on September 11, 2001. We supported her when Afghanistan was invaded. But true admiration, and viewing the USA as its many cliches demand; a beacon of hope; a land of dreams; land of liberty and democracy, this has in my life never been an option. 

It was tonight. And if anything, it should give our own country something long and deep to consider in terms of who we want to be, and what Canada must do to get there. The hard work we must under go, the complacency that must be ousted and the pride and desire to see Canada become a global leader instead of a follower. 

But these are conversations for tomorrow. Tonight belongs to you, America.

Congratulations, and welcome back.

I am a walking Frasier joke

You know, in retrospect, the most telling experience from this whole wild weekend past was nothing related to weddings, or hilariously sad and simultaneously amusing dancing (and I use that term incredibly loosely) in my basement. Nor, even the fact said house shenanigans involved 83% males. 

No, the experience in hindsight which gave me most reason for introspection was when me and Irene were running around squabbling over a box of Perrier (a match of wits in which I can proudly claim victory; though, rest assured, I will take only a pirates share. The rest will be waiting here for you.)

In my deepest thoughts, I realized that this was a microcosm of my being. Chasing around French Fizzy like a (well-dressed) crack addict.

Awesome. 

crate's of barrels

Walking through Yorkdale today, I noticed that the new Crate and Barrel store had finally opened to the joy of yuppies from Woodbridge to Whitby. 

Now, don't get me wrong. I think it's an interesting store, and even bought a couple things (I am now the proud owner of a pepper mill. Thank you.) but I don't understand why there seemed to be so much excitement about this place in anticipation to its opening. It's like Ikea, mixed with william sonoma. 

Is that all it takes to get people revved up these days? I mean that combination works on paper, except there is no actual originality in what's offered. In fact, I find it takes the worst posslbe traits of its influences. The furniture and products all look exactly like Ikea, but are priced like w&s. What's so great about that? 

Granted, the quality is obviously better, but it'd be nice if those of us choosing to embrace our inner consumer would have some more varied options. I realize the local mall isn't exactly the place to find treasures off the beaten path, but the homogeneity of crate and barrel is a little disconcerting considering how much people seem to love it. 

You know what hypothetical store I'd really like to see? A combination of H&M and Harry Rosen - a more eclectic and varied selection of affordable men's formal wear.

Somebody, take my idea and run with it.

Five thousand meters above sea level

In a pleasant surprise, my room here in Lhasa has a computer with internet access, unlimited usage and free of charge. I am also sharing my room with a mouse, one that roams untethered to the computer and was last seen somewhere between the television and the wall. A fair trade, I'd say.

The train ride here took more than twenty-four hours and stopped only twice. The train twisted through the North Eastern parts of Tibet, through the outskirts of the Himalayan range. The scenery was pretty awesome.

Snow capped mountains as jagged as the Rockies; the worlds highest lake; silt-covered riverbeds framing crystal clear glacier rivers; frozen tundra; rolling plains and foothills as lush as a windows desktop picture... all sandwiched by lots of naps. so, so many naps.

The thin air definitely is getting to some. The conductor lady who was servicing my car had to stand outside at a stop for about thirty-minutes, and when she got back in she was literally a shade of pale blue.

I seem to have suffered no ill-effects thusfar, but I haven't really spent more than ten to fifteen minutes at a time outside. I like to think my superior conditioning has more to do with my imperviousness to human weakness however.

As a bonus, I've managed to read three books so far this trip and am halfway through Naomi Klein's Shock Doctrine. Normally it takes me ages to read Klein's writing, just because I spend half my time re-reading passages to filter out her angry-rhetoric from the actual points of note. I must say that compared to No Logo, her newest book is much less openly antagonistic, it really is a more effective criticism of corporate capitalism. Her research is really impressive, it's much more meaty than simple activist sentiment and doesn't have the pervasive single-mindedness of No Logo.

I'm not done but I highly suggest it to anyone with even a mild interest in cutting to the heart of geo-political matters and what is happening in the world around us, behind the wall of media.

Going to check out The Potala Palace tomorrow morning, it's on a giant hill in the middle of the city, illuminated as the bus drove from the train station to my hotel. It's actually quite similar to how the Parthenon in Athens is visible on the hill from everywhere in the city, it should be an interesting excursion.

Internet one more night as I'll be in Lhasa at least another few days.

a prologue

1:24am. Seven hours forty five minutes remaining. 

This will not be the most exciting vacation I have ever been on. 

Some might dismiss this as a prophesy of the self-fulfilling variety, but I am rather assured that despite the practical and mildly interesting experiences that will come from this month out of country, it will not be four weeks of mindless fun. 

Rather, I see it as an opportunity to wax philosophical about a rather unexpected phase of life wrapping itself up and -- again --  being tossed into the professional wilderness; wondering where the winds will take me next. 

Lazing around with friends, I wondered if this was any way to live a life. 

We discussed the meritocracy of marriage in our social circles, and though I know nothing is wrong with being single, I do ponder the masochism of choosing to self-flagellate oneself through submersion in the world of the betrothed. 

I cannot say however strongly enough -- that is not an indictment. It is merely an honest query about the different paths we choose. 

But I digress. At the very least, I am anticipating a trip that gives my brain an opportunity to again expand. 

If I can do that at the very least, I am excited about my return. 

How was that on a pretentious scale? I'm completely out of practice, having written nothing but basketball news for the past eight months. I've forgotten how to shape the english language I feel, outside of paraphrasing a lede.

The formula of online publishing was truly more stifling than even I realized until I began putting words to screen freely again. 

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

What it's like to be an Olympic diver

Consider me a self-loathing pseudo member of the "media"

This whole issue with listeriosis and sandwich meats has me wondering how journalists are making decisions when it comes to reporting the news. I'd like to meet the editors at CBC....

Actually, I have met some of them. It still boggles my mind, they seem so normal when you shake their hands.

Even worse is when the news show clips of people who are all paranoid of propane tanks exploding everywhere.

By the same logic that people are arguing propane tanks shouldn't be in residential areas, one could also reasonably posit that gas stations shouldn't be in those same areas, or hell, airports for that matter -- look at Air Spain!

...but I am supremely dissapointed in Canada

There are countries I've never even heard of who have a medal in the Olympics.

I think the most disappointing thing about our team isn't the lack of hardware as much as its the lack of actual performance.

Outside of the swimmers, who have consistently set new personal and Canadian records, it's a very rare occurrence for a Canadian Olympian to have the performance of their life at an Olympic games.

That's all I'm really looking for. That these athletes try their best and truly leave it all on the field, as the cliche goes.

Instead, our signature is choking (see Felicien, Perdita, or our synchro mens diving team).

If we step up when it matters most and lose because of talent, that's completely understandable. I can be proud of that.

I'm not a big fan of underachievers and crumpling under pressure. Canadians are supposed to be about heart and grit, but it sure doesn't look it with every Olympic games that pass us by.

I love the Olympics

I am supremely envious of Steph and Gord and Van who get to catch some events and soak in the atmosphere of a Summer Olympic games.

The best part of the Olympics is by far the fact that you get to watch all these sports that otherwise wouldn't be interesting, but are during the Olympics because only the best-of-the-best in the world are present at these competitions.

According to my casual observations, here is a list of things the Chinese gymnastics team have mastered:

- Gymnastics

Here are things they seriously need to work on:

- Giving high-fives

Seriously.

It's like watching Phil Michelson try to dap his caddie. Just so, incredibly awkward.

javascript:void(0)

tax refunds are a welcome surprise

Right now, I'm wondering whether my life and that of everyone around me is going to get busier or not. 

I mean, I'm assuming my summer is more of a anomaly than an accurate portrayal of the rest of my working life. Or at least I hope to God it is. 

Some of the people around me are fairly settled in that they have long term jobs and long term relationships, so their current state should be fairly static until the families start up. 

The remaining two groups are individuals who either have not started working yet (and I wonder if work is more or less time consuming than school for these mainly professional students), and of course single people who are either recently hooked-up or will eventually be hooked-up, thus making their lives relatively busier depending on how each person's personality is. 

I mean, if it's safe to assume that everyone is either going to get busier or at the very least maintain and get busier simply by entering relationships, I frankly don't understand how people have any time to see each other at all. 

I guess this is where it helps to have your own places, and roommates, and such and such, instead of having essentially everybody in your social circle live with their parents. 

Right now I have maybe...MAYBE one free night a week. And sometimes a weekend morning. 

 

Really, the only reasons I see people now are to prepare for a wedding, or for some sort of sports team. 

On the bright side, I think my goal of moving out by the end of the year might be pretty darn on track. That should help I think. Thank goodness I bought a lot of books to read...

insert title here

I've been MIA for the past month or so due to work, but I figure after this summer I'm going to have a very solid foundation of working relationships and experience to build on, so it'll justify it. Plus I've already planned a vacation in September, so, work hard, play hard, right? 

It's the Canadian way.

Speaking of Canada, come check out the game this saturday everybody. 7pm tip-off for the senior team, single game tickets are now available for pretty darn cheap (under $15). 

I'd write more, but my brain hurts.

Today I become legendary

Or I become an official alumni of Humber College.

Seems like that happened a long time ago, but technically grad was yesterday night. I can't wait until September, when I'll be able to actually celebrate.

oracular spectacular

There's an article in the new Macleans that says participating in a religious group or community is a proven lifestyle choice that leads to longevity. 

That could be the most ironic thing I've heard all week -- outside of people making Facebook groups for people to join Facebook. Isn't that the equivalent of movie running a trailer for itself before it shows?

the cup

I haven't really watched an entire hockey game in at least a month. 

Tonight's was one hell of a game.

check out that 'stache

You know when you grow up with someone, and you're best friends with them for your entire life, but maybe you also realize that over the past three years or so you've begun to grow apart, but still see each other, so you kind of remain best friends almost as much out of comfort as you do for any other reason? 

That's Weezer. 

Favorite band? In all honesty, probably not since the Green album came out and supremely disappointed. 

Maybe we were expecting too much. Maybe it was time to consider that the Blue album and Pinkerton were as much products of a band in a particular time and place, and to ask someone to emulate a phase of their life would be asking for too much, and end up being too fake anyways. It was always Weezer's honesty that fans found endearing, and catching lightening in a bottle three times in a row was just not going to happen.

With that admission long ago conceded, I download the leaked eight tracks of the upcoming album, and I must say that although they don't blow me away, I personally feel it's the best they've done since Pinkerton. It feels like they know it too, and they decided to forgo a name almost to underscore the fact that...in spirit, this is essentially the third Weezer album everyone has been waiting for. 

The catch however, is that if you aren't already a Weezer fan, you probably won't find any of these songs particularly special. And even if you used to be, it's entirely possible you've just outgrown the sound by now. Realistically, if you weren't still waiting for this, you probably won't care. This album was, quite apparently, made with fans in mind, and it seems like the band now has the hindsight to enjoy and appreciate the Weezer experience that we had all along.

If you are indeed a huge lover of all things Weez, you're going to be hard pressed to not hit repeat on Heart Songs about a gajillion times. 

Along with most of this album, it almost seems like the band is parodying itself. But Heart Songs lets you into where Rivers is right now, and stirs up feelings about the band's idiosyncratic nerd-rock that you thought died when they recorded "Crab".

Heart Songs is an homage to Weezer by Weezer, and although it's not necessarily going to bring the band back into the type of relationship they had with fans in years past, it's certainly a spectacular reminder of why Weezer once occupied that place in the first place.

pondering

everyone says sports is a great metaphor for life, but couldn't life just be a great metaphor for sports?

On that note, I'm just going to take it one game at a time, focus on the team and try my best to play hard out there.

I'm trying to decide whether a television show based on my life would garner decent ratings.

Personally, I like to think it would, if only for the fact that shows about single guys with quirky jobs who meet strange and often famous people seem to make for comedic situations. Notice that I assumed a show about me would be a comedy. This is because there is no drama in my life outside of running out of black socks to wear to the office.

I have humorous and distinctly different single male buddies, myriad couples to play off, I live in my parents basement and like to undergo hairbrained entrepreneurial schemes and freelancing opportunities.

The only thing missing is a rotating door of love interests, although if you take my dating track record that is a comedy unto itself entirely.

Yes, I think the me show would be quite the prime-time sitcom. I'm also confidant I could write a pretty killer theme song, although perhaps not as killer as Alan Thicke wrote for Growing Pains.

I'm good, but I mean, modesty is the better part of valour.

Upgrades

Yesterday:

Today:

Ryan Reynolds, you did OK for yourself there kid.

The ladder disparity calculations are blowing my mind.

everyone loves a slinky

there's a lot to be cynical about on "extreme home makeover". 

yes, the signs are probably made by the show and handed out to a crowd that most likely is only there because they got free t-shirts and school credits to volunteer for building a house in a week. the corporate sponsors probably decide who gets picked for each episode and afterwards the sustainability of living in a giant mansion full of millions of dollars worth of material wealth ends up gentrifying a neighborhood and perhaps even the family itself in the eyes of the community who (purportedly) supported this television show in the first place.

yes, all of the above is highly probable. 

but the parts where they move the bus and people actually break down into tears? that -- in my mind at least -- is possibly the only real emotional display remaining on prime time television outside of professional sports. everything else might be contrived (to put it mildly), but that one moment? it's real. it's interesting to watch. 

in unrelated news, now that steph has a real estate license, she has officially assumed a role in my personal superhero team that i like to call "the league of useful friends."

so far that league includes three doctors (overlap is inefficient!), an accountant, a chocolate dealer and victor, who really i have no idea what he does but he can get a decent rate on currency exchange, so that's good enough for me.

as for the rest of you -- all engineers, i might add -- stop being so selfish! I suggest you make like steph and find a secondary occupation that benefits your friends more. 

what good is an engineer if they aren't married to you for the purpose of employee benefits?

honestly.

75 word per minute.

Addictive AND a life-skill builder.

This is what the internet is all about. A shame I can't type properly.

Goodbyes

Well gosh darn it. 

When I got the invitation to my undergraduate convocation, I put the registration envelope in the garbage. I wasn't going to be there -- a trip to Asia awaited -- and frankly, I wasn't big on the pomp and circumstance associated with the ceremony anyways. It came and went with nary a thought. 

Recently, I got the invitation to my post-graduate convocation, and again, I put the envelope in a drawer, giving myself some leeway but pretty much planning not to go. Again, I never did see the point. 

But you know, it really takes seeing people to realize that you'll actually miss them. The hardest part is there is no naivete in us anymore because we're at the age that life has already impressed itself on us. For the vast majority of my classmates, we may never see each other again, and we know it.

It's a strange feeling, saying goodbye to someone for ostensibly the last time. I've grown so comfortable with the people I know at this stage of my life that saying farewell isn't a common occurrence. Doing it about 15 times in one night...well, that's something else. 

To the nights I don't remember, but the people I always will. 

Evolution

For some reason, I watched an entire episode of House tonight. He kept talking about how people don't change (only to believe in people's abilities to change at the very end). 

My thoughts while watching were two-fold. 

1) In terms of plot, House is pretty much medical power rangers. Every week the same formula happens. I kept waiting for Rita to make the monster in the patients body big. 

2) The chick from the OC is much, much hotter than sweater-vest girl. And for some reason she apparently plays a bisexual -- again. I've heard of typecasting, but this might be a little bit too pigeonholed even for television actors...

3) To be honest, I'm not entirely convinced people can change. I think we can learn to change how we react to who we are, but not necessarily who we are. By this, I mean you might always want a certain thing, but instead of giving in, just learn to discipline yourself to act differently on those same impulses (which always remain the same). 

I can see how that could still be defined/interpreted as change. 

But I could also see how it could not be. 

On another note, I've been playing basketball at the YMCA lately and there's this one old guy who's there every single night. I can't figure out what he does -- he's old enough to be retired. But man. Whatever reason he's there all the time, it's either incredibly admirable, or incredibly depressing. 

Funny how there's no gray area with that one eh?

Mutant powers

When I got my wisdom teeth removed in high school, I chalked my utter lack of recovery time as a fortunate matter of happenstance.

In retrospect however, I concede there has been a history of either playing sports through injuries, or simply healing quickly in my daily scratches and nicks. But I never thought it was unusual per se. 

Until this week, when I played basketball and was (again) pushed into a wall while in mid-air. I sprained my right ankle and bruised my left heel, but was able to tighten my shoe laces and just play the rest of the night relatively unencumbered. 

Upon untying my shoes at the end of the night, I realized that my ankles were in severe pain. I had trouble driving, and by the time I got home I couldn't put weight on my right ankle without sharp jabbing pain. It had noticeably swollen already, and I couldn't even sleep on that side of my body because it hurt to torque it with even the weight of just my foot.

Anyways, I woke up this morning still swollen and limping. I was in pain, but much better than the night before although still unable to apply too much weight to my right ankle. 

I went to work, and had a relatively normal work day. Some time around 2pm, I realized that although I definitely felt a little sore, I seemed to suddenly be completely pain free. I did some quick movement, and lo and behold my ankle seems to be completely healed, and the bruise on my other foot is a bit tender, but nothing to really write home about.

In short, I have exhibited freakish mutant Wolverine powers over the course of a single day.

Naturally, I will only use my abilities for good, not evil, and embrace the responsibility that comes with great power.

Good day.

Foul I say!

Upon flipping through the television universe, I stumbled upon Dancing with the stars (in HD) last night and stopped to see what the big hoopla was about. 

I noticed that the celebrity dancer was Kristi Yamaguchi.

Now, I won't claim to be an expert on dancing nor figure skating. However, does it not seem just a weeeee bit unfair to be pitting an Olympic calibre figure skater whose sport involves complicated footwork (some might even call it... dancing?) and athletic prowess while wearing a sequined outfit, all while choreographed to music... against the likes of say, an NFL player, or hollywood actress? 

Isn't that kind of like having a celebrity mandolin contest, except a world famous ukulele player is allowed to participate? 

If I was Shannon Elizabeth, I'd be pissed off. 

Also, I would feel like Dancing with the Stars was rigged.

kill me now

Things I did today:

Wake up. 

Make coffee.

Drink coffee.

Drop off softball gear for people.

Eat lunch.

Make coffee.

Drink coffee. 

Eat dinner.

Shower.

I even staged a Facebook photo tonight. If that isn't the mendoza line for boredom, I don't know what is. 

Strings & Things

The funny thing about stereotypes is that sometimes they can be accurate.

With the recent changes to CBC Radio 2 and the disbanding of the CRO, classical music fans have come crawling out of the woodwork (and woodwinds) to protest what the have decried as the sullying of the CBC's mandate to the arts.

Exhibit A for why many folks think these whiners are snobs, taken from the letters section of the Globe & Mail:

I am almost too depressed about the planned "overhaul" of CBC's Radio 2 to even write about it. What's the point? We've all seen the writing on the wall for some time now, and resistance is futile: The CBC no longer feels there is any point to devoting an entire radio station to the more musically and intellectually complex style of music colloquially, though entirely inappropriately, known as "classical" (more on that tendentious terminology in a moment), because, according to its mysterious studies, no one is interested in that any more.

I'm pretty sure if I was having a real conversation with somebody and they uttered the above paragraph, I would be left with no option but to punch them in the face.

Please. Come off your pedestal and join us philistines and our good friend Leslie Feist.

Sometimes it's fun to slum it a little, y'know?

lightening the load

The concept of joining clubs and classes completely makes sense to me now that my schedule has devolved into what more or less is representative of regular office hours. I don't know what to do with my free time outside of going to the gym and watching sports on television. 

The fact that I am resolutely content with such an existence is a story for another day.

Upon getting a haircut today, It crossed my mind what a difference it makes when someone obviously cares about doing a good job. I tipped the guy well (the actual price of the haircut was only $10, so I mean, they deserve some kudos) but it was because it was evident throughout the haircut that he really wanted to do a good job. He was meticulous, and although personally I can't tell the difference between a diligently cut head of hair and one victimized by a suck-and-cut stylistically speaking, what I definitely could discern what the effort.

I applaud effort. It's an under-appreciated trait in our hustle and bustle society for someone to take a little extra time to make sure things are held to a higher standard of quality. 

The world would be a better place if we all approached our jobs with that kind of attitude. 

Next week's life lesson: saying thank you when somebody opens a mall door for you.

gin and juice

Even if for only one day (it's not supposed to last through the weekend), the weather was nice enough that I drove the entire way home with my sunroof open. 

Human beings are solar powered. This has to be some sort of scientific fact.

"Things we will forget by next week about Communist China..."

For a country full of Buddhist monks, Tibet has sure pissed a whole lot of people off lately.

Faster than you can say “Kosovo,” the Tibet issue has jumped to the forefront of almost every major media outlet in Toronto. It’s enough drama and back talking to make one realize the only difference between international politics and The Hills is the sobering prominence of ugly people -- although Chinese president Hu Jintao does sport some retro-chic aviator specs.

To say that coverage of the situation recently has been sensational would be like saying James Blunt is in touch with his feelings. The latest Macleans magazine features the headline “Butchers and Monsters” splashed across a photograph of a man in camouflage chasing after a Buddhist monk with a stick. Elmer Fudd would be proud.

The Globe and Mail featured a cover story over the past weekend about three Canadian women who for the last 8 years have been working to use this summer’s upcoming Olympic games as an international stage for the Tibet liberation movement. They were portrayed as heroic figures.

The Associated Press reported that China had been planting military instigators in Tibetan monasteries to pose as monks, acting as both agent provocateurs and plaintive decoys for government organized diplomatic tours of the volatile area.

It’s suddenly hip to hate on China.

As a journalist of Chinese decent, this all cumulated locally and personally when a friend of mine emailed over the weekend with video footage of the Pro-China rally taking place at Dundas square. “It’s about time,” he said, “China’s been getting such a bad rap in the media lately.” I can’t say this made much sense to me, but the words still struck an internal chord that had been nagging me for several days.

I heard the same exasperated tones from my father, who over the dinner table often wonders aloud why everyone makes the Chinese government out to be the most evil entity since the consortium that decided hotdogs would come in packs of 10 but buns in bags of eight.

The Macleans article in question calls for us to be witnesses who “make a difference” in the lives of the Chinese people. But I wonder; instead of worrying about problems nestled at the foot of the Himalayas, shouldn’t we be witnesses who make a difference in our own lives first?

How soon we forget that at the last G8 summit in Quebec, local police planted officers posing as fake protesters into the crowds? Or that when it comes to human rights violations and mindless environmental destruction, China’s track record may be horrendous, but still trails that of our friendly neighbours to the South?

The actions of the Chinese government are indefensible, to this I readily acquiesce. And to say China is getting a bad rap is like saying Rob Shneider doesn't deserve to be typecast.

But if the media is going to demand accountability, we as readers should be willing to at least do the same.

We deride our own actions, but ultimately tolerate the status quo. When it comes to change, party platforms rarely come to fruition in our quagmire of a political system.

Macleans is the same magazine that superimposed George Bush’s head onto Saddam Hussein’s body – but there aren’t too many student activists who suggest we boycott the NBA finals.

Maybe they should have shown Bush chasing an Iraqi with a stick.

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.

chasing bylines

you know that whole thing where opposites are supposed to attract?

i don't really get it. from what i can tell, much more often than not samesies attract way more than opposites. 

i feel like this myth has led innumerable impressionable young youth into making many a bad decision. someone should look right into this, and i would be willing to bet with great certainty that this atrocious fallacy would be repealed in the same manner our archaic nutritional pyramid was proven to be bad for you despite our childhood indoctrination of basic food groups and eating habits. 

if the simplest answer is usually the right one, opposites attract clearly is nothing more than the wistful fancy of some over-romanticized loner. 

on an unrelated note, over the past year my cynicism has reached astonishing new heights. i am officially an emotionless void; a biological organism with a cybernetic exo-skeleton sent from the future to kill john connor. 

on an extra unrelated note, lets list yet one more reason i love the wire. this season is about the media, and auteur david simon is doing everything in his power to shed insight into the plight of today's newspapers and the realities of that industry. 

in a delicious twist of post-modern irony, the use of a cable television show to cheerlead the cause of newspapers seems like a stroke of genius that i cannot fathom has never been thought of before. 

if there was a word to describe awe induced applause at a respectful volume and cadence, insert that word here please.

she-ra? i would.

most people I know are asian. 

technically, i would wager most of these individuals would define themselves as asian-canadian, but if we don't even know what Canadian identity is, how is anyone expected to understand what Asian-Canadian even means? maple syrup fried rice?

i've narrowed down the asian-canadian identity into two principles: 

- wealth

- practicality

and thats it. i can't help but feel that for the vast majority of asian-canadians, these are the two over arching values on which entire lives are premised. 

for those who do not necessarily hold these principles key, we are generally more confused and at times self-loathing about our identity. 

i feel somewhere, there is an asian-identity that can be defined by culture, and that i would be proud to embrace as my own. but i feel like most asians spend more time trying to just fit in than actually celebrate our differences, and that's ultimately what i find most confusing. 

what are we so afraid of? 

asides from being poor, that is.

This man is electric. There are few seminal speeches that take place in politics anymore, and even rarer is it that an orator appears who can deliver one with such poise and presence.

Just... wow. The next couple weeks are going to be some awful good television at the very least. Think of it as American Idol, except the winner gets to determine the fate of the free world.

the bonus post (climb into my mind)

Today I was in line at Starbucks to buy a grande mild coffee. This would not normally be a particularly notable event, as it recurs with near clockwork regularity on days I have neither work nor school.

The line was moving particularly slow, as there was only one person serving a rather long queue, and one other barista making drinks. 

Perhaps a damning symptom of my current frame of mind, I initially noticed that the girl two spaces in front of me in line had a rather unique Ipod sleeve. It appeared to be made of white crocodile skin, with an orange inner liner that matched her clutch sized wallet. I thought it was neat, did not give it another two shakes, and continued to look around, duly noting that the price of coffee had gone down by two cents thanks to the new cut in the GST (inside, i did a little self high-five). 

After another few minutes (I would normally have been impatient, but I had just bought new cd's and was still basking in my post-purchase afterglow) my gaze again fell on the white Ipod sleeve, and I further noticed that the girl was wearing dark denim jeans, a furry AF hoody and Uggs. 

I made a mental note of how derivative and ubiquitous this ensemble had now become, wondered why asians all dressed the exact same, wondered if I was making the kind of snap judgment normally reserved for a gay fashion stylist, then continued thinking about what bitrate I would rip my new cd's at when I got back home. 

Anyways, after a long while it seems, the ugg/ipod/asian girl finally got to the front of the line and ordered a mocha (again, seemingly an almost cliched menu choice for slim asian girls at starbucks) and turned around to walk past us chumps back in line towards the service section of the counter. 

At this point, I realized what I hadn't noticed in all my previous observations and judgments of her clothing and accessories. 

This girl was drop dead gorgeous. 

She smiled at me as she walked by, and I think I kind of grinned or smiled or something and nodded. I'm guessing the word "gaped" may even have been appropriate, but I'm going to try and save some dignity here. 

I find whenever I make eye-contact with a hot chick lately, I'm trying to maintain that connection as long as possible just to see what happens. Sheepishly turning your head to pretend you weren't looking seems so futile. Just give the girl her due, and take it from there I figure. 

ANYways, I desperately willed the line faster at this point so that I could get my coffee and move towards the area she had settled in, at the very least to get another good look at her before I stepped back out into the (literal) cold of my regular day. I turned to see through the glass, but her head was down busy taking out her laptop.

I feel like I'm not quite at the point where I care enough to seek girls out at random encounters. But I must say, I'm closer. Especially when the girl is beautiful. But for the time being, going on dates and getting to know people is frankly just too much work and effort when coupled with what my regular life schedule will be like over the next four months. 

Part of me is worried that I'm just never going to find time for dating. My goals just don't really allot for it. 

The other part of me is happy that I don't have to worry about impressing a girl who can afford to buy the things a steretypical asian girl likes to buy. Then again, I am growing increasingly positive that I will never be happy with a stereotypical asian girl, so perhaps this point is moot.

Once I get the career stuff more settled however, I feel like I will thoroughly enjoy my adventures in Ugg hunting. 

Until then... window shopping will have to suffice.

dang it.

regardless of where you're playing basketball with strangers, be it at a chinese church, an inner city YMCA, or a jewish community centre, there will always be archetypical pickup basketballers.

my absolute least favourite is the "coach on the floor". if you've ever played pickup basketball, than you know exactly who i'm talking about. this guy is usually short, not particularly talented, and has a mouth that just doesn't know how to shutup. 

he's the guy who bosses people around, screaming things like "stay low!" or "rebound!", while standing somewhere and not doing anything. 

conversely, the typical offensive possession for the "coach on the floor" is for him to stand under the net and frantically demand that he receive the inbound pass and bring it up court (because naturally, he is the best point guard on the team), dribble the ball for several minutes at the top of the key looking frustrated as he seems to think his team is incompetent while the rest of his team run screens and get astonishingly open to no avail. 

ultimately, the "coach on the floor" will usually end up driving into traffic and throwing up a ridiculous circus shot that ends up being either an airball (nine times out of ten), or a miraculous fluke (one out of ten), after without fail, he will simply backpedal while screaming at his team to get back and play defense as if he's bob knight. usually, "coach on the floor" is also a defensive liability who tends to just foul people a lot. 

i find in general, i am wary of people who claim to be experts on everything. because honestly, unless you have a PhD, most of us are really experts at nothing. and even those of us who like to think ourselves experts in somethings, are usually not very good judges of our own expertise. 

the devil in the details

priorities can be a confusing set of values. they are completely relative, and not in the post-modern way that art has become relative. i suppose i mean they are completely personal, and completely valid in that personal sense, but at the same time i find it fascinating how different individuals can have utterly opposing sets of priorities. 

ambition is a powerful thing. i feel so often that our generation has misguided ambition, where we are a whole group of humans who stand only for the fact that we stand for nothing at all. 

people have coined phrases like twixters to describe our laze-in-our-parents-home ways, and frankly, it's starting to bother me that such general malaise can be so pervasive and yet so generally accepted. 

it doesn't have to be this way, y'know? on top of the generation that is coddled and losing valuable years of adulthood to glorified adolescence, i feel that we are also a bunch of people with the resources to make an actual difference -- if we would just make it a priority. 

how do you make people care?

how do you change people's priorities? 

dinosaur eggs are baller

thoughts on the best regular season game of the season: 

- much like when the raps played boston, the atmosphere was simply rabid. this is playoff level basketball, no matter what anybody says. 

- there was an article on ESPN today by JJ Adande about how black people need to stop hating on the celtics for being a white team. well written, but in crunch time, after a giant game-tying 3 by rayray, detroit takes a timeout with under 30 seconds left to play. what song is blaring through the arena? 'rock you like a hurricane' by the scorpions. would you like some grey poupon? 

- hubie brown noted during the game that deron williams reminds him a lot of chauncey billups, which i agree with entirely. if that's the case, then is cp3 vs d-train even a debate? would you rather have the future chauncey billups, or the future isiah thomas? thought so.

- there's no such thing as statement games, but if we learned anything, it's that big game experience still makes the pistons the team to beat in the east. boston is a beast, but in the clutch, detroit was calm, poised, and executed exactly what they wanted. the celtics have three future hall-of-famers, but seemed confused about what exactly to do and who should take over down the stretch -- particularly KG. if they're going to go anywhere, he needs to demand the ball in the clutch, he's unselfish to a fault and was nearly invisible in the last two minutes of the game.

- i was supposed to go out tonight, but i'm jumping from this game straight to suns/mavs and in 5 minutes, the raptors game. if i were to estimate, i'd say i've chosen watching basketball at home over going out with friends at least five times in the last two weeks. please help me.

"morning" musings

simon's twitter train has finally left the station. i didn't even understand how it worked until this week. apparently my problem before was i had no friends. please, refrain from making the easy joke on that one, i'm delicate.

been picking up my poor neglected guitar with my recent freedom from school. i missed her so.

and finally, when it rains it pours, and in this case it's pouring engagement rings. 

congrats to wictor and gorphanie, may your weddings have as much or more booze than vanessa's. 

good. times. ahead.

quickies

wakey! wakey! has probably recorded the best weezer cover these ears have ever heard.

"say it ain't so" on piano = tasty-delicious.

by this time next week, i am probably going to be complaining of boredom. either that, or catching up on about three straight months of sleep deprivation. i've been averaging about 4 hours of sleep a night, and have the eating habits of kate moss. 

if it weren't for coffee, i think i might have just dropped dead weeks ago.  still, the holiday break cannot come soon enough -- i have so many "to-do-list" type things i would like to accomplish but simply haven't had the time. for example, i wish barbershops were open 24/7, i am in dire need of a trim. 

i think the worst part about working for real is that you no longer have summer and winter vacations. i mean, in all honesty even the year i took off to work, i worked full time through the winter, then only part time from january through to the end of my contract.

i have never not had a summer vacation. the thought of not being awarded 3-4 weeks off for my concerted efforts every winter is depressing. to not have 3-4 months off to travel in the summer? that's just going to be downright cruel. 

maybe i can get away with freelancing forever. 

maybe. i'll probably have to get used to sleeping in my car though.

huzzah

published! multiple-times! 

the only thing that could ruin my day is if i were trying to write five stories at once and nobody called me back about any of them. 

oh wait, that's happening, and i'm still in a good mood.

awesome. 

Fiction(alized)/Insights

not necessarily an actual event as much as a description of my state of mind during about a five minute span of time, fictionalized at some points and reorganized chronologically for the sake of narrative composition.  

I open my car door and step into the cold winter air.

The bustle of traffic fills my ears as I pull my jacket close to myself, walking briskly across the small parking lot and pulling open the door to my brightly lit destination.

The acrid but comforting smell of cheap coffee embraces me, warming me almost as much as the warmth does itself. I pull up a chair at a table by some large foggy windows, sitting down opposite a familiar face.

“No, press the middle button,” says my friend embarrassingly into his cell-phone. He looks up and waves sheepishly before averting his gaze again, returning all his focus to the conversation at hand.

He is taking a call from his fiancé, meticulously talking her through the nuances of playing a movie on his new Playstation 3. I remove my wool coat and stuff my blue gloves into its pockets. Attempting to settle into my chair, my mind notes that they are made of plastic and an uncomfortable yet seemingly durable metal. As I hang my coat on my stiff seatback, I wonder briefly if the lack of ergonomic design is a matter of cost or merely a strategy to dissuade loitering in this fine fast-food establishment. Trying not to eavesdrop, I take a deep breath of Tim Horton’s air and proceed to survey my surroundings.

In the corner to our left, studying under the familiar fluorescent glow of the donut shop, an Asian couple sits with their noses buried in textbooks. The girl’s bright red pencil case is shaped like a cartoon ladybug, laying sideways on the table and spilling out a collection of multi-coloured highlighters. It has always baffled me how compulsively some girls choose to colour coordinate their notes. I attempt to think of a male who might share this academic trait. I cannot.

To the side of coloured pen girl is a male companion who seems equally engrossed in his own textbook, twirling a pen around his thumb as he stares distantly at the page. His eyebrows are severely furrowed, and it is difficult to tell if he is either completely distracted or completely focused.

Turning to my right side, there is another Asian couple sitting diagonally from each other at a four-seat table. I find this odd. A magazine about computer games sits open on the table in front of the male, completely engaging his attention. Meanwhile, the girl (who is mildly attractive in the protypical suburban Asian female manner -- petite and well dressed, with smooth pale skin and large eyes) types away at the keyboard of a black laptop that completely dwarfs her tiny delicate hands.  

I return my gaze to my friend, cracking a wry smile as his Playstation tutorial continues.

“Not that menu, no, go down to video…”

He gives me a look and shrugs, shaking his head as if to say that he had long ago acquiesced in the fact that conversations such as this were to be part and parcel of a stable long-term relationship. It was the compromising price that accompanied being accompanied.

As I sat there listening to a conversation that bore a striking resemblance to one I once had with my mother about how to send an email, I come suddenly to the stark realization of how foreign to me that price actually is.

There in a coffee shop, book-ended by couples and staring straight ahead at another, there comes to me a rush of tacit fear accompanied by possibly the only emotional response that has ever truly concerned me: loneliness.

I wonder why I haven’t met my perfect match; I wonder if there is ever going to be the right girl for my life; I wonder where things went wrong with all the girls that I have cared for in the past. I wonder if I will ever grow up to be an adult along the lines of those peers who increasingly are getting married and proceeding with down payments and mortgages while I scrape up enough cash to buy a soft-taco for my midnight snack.

I wonder these things in the blink of an eye, and snap back to reality as my friend gently closes his cell-phone and returns it to the pocket of his puffy black down jacket.

“Sorry about that, she’s never used the Playstation before.”

“It’s all good,” I reply, laughing while being genuinely impressed by his completely normal domestic conversation, yet at the same time feeling almost unbearably alienated by it.

“It’s part of the territory right?” I ask, and watch him nod his head in agreement.

“Yea, I guess,” he replies.

We laugh, in a moment of awkwardness, and pause to consider my words.

Whatever territory I’m talking about, he is clearly surprised to wake up some days and actually find himself standing there.  And it’s a territory I’m not sure I’ll ever even step foot upon myself.

It’s remarkable how completely opposite scenarios can result in the exact same paralysis.

I find this realization strangely comforting, and it assuages my personal panic from code red to mellow yellow. All of this happens in only the smallest fraction of time, and now I am back to the more pressing matter at hand: namely, do I want a large or medium coffee?

28 weeks later

i know i'm way behind the times on this one, but i finally got around to watching 28 weeks later tonight, the follow up to 28 days later. 

as for as zombie flicks go, it's at the very least as tense as it's predecessor, with lots of jumpy moments and anxious scenarios. 

i found however, that i could not enjoy the pacing or action or direction, because the movie asks you to root for the survival of the main characters, who, surprise surprise, are responsible for the problem at hand. 

i'm all for forgiveness, but really, the kids in this movie drove me insane. they just tra-la-la through the world's most unimaginable catastrophe as if they don't know any better, but for god's sake, they're basically teenagers! i couldn't watch this movie without thinking how utterly stupid these kids were, and frankly, that they kind of deserve to die seeing as how their ignorance is completely unabashed. 

i realize this is harsh, and i know logic is suspended when watching a b-movie. but GAH! i just found it so frustrating that they were not only responsible, but unapologetic, and ignorant. i mean, you kids are DIRECTLY responsible for the death of thousands if not millions of people. where's the part where they think "do you think maybe this was our bad...?" 

argh. of course, that's just part of the stupidity. like how a civilian caretaker has access to the most privileged of military installations. but that's the type of stuff that i can forgive in these types of silly horror flicks.

stupid people who make their own bed however drive me insane. i guess i'm just not one for merciful sympathy. if you make your bed and refuse to apologize, you should have to lay in it. even if that means being eaten by zombies. i've never had a movie force me to root for the death of children so much in my life. i feel dirty.

i'm going to be the worst parent ever.