Sunday, December 28, 2008

Falling Slowly

Someone asked me, yesterday, how I knew I was in love with her. It was Ashley, in the commencement of a heart to heart that asked me. My beloved friend of many years and quite possibly one of the people who are closest to me. It was something I hadn't much thought about enough, or I didn't think so. I concluded, much in that moment, that I knew it was love when I was happy within every moment I was with her. Every time we were together, even in the times where both of us seemed to have some trepidation eating at our psyches, I became happy in her presence. It's strange, like an intoxication, a bottle you never want to put down. Healthy unknowingness, in the form of a grace that comes to your lips in the greatest moments and happiest memories of your life.

Today, tonight, my mother asked me what I thought about forever. I couldn't tell her to be completely and utterly honest. I didn't want to give myself that kind of false hope that this could last as long as I'd like it to. It's so much different than last time that I hope, I pray, that it'll last as long as it possibly can. I want to feed this flame, this beautiful passion. It's not a prison, not filled with aching bars made of steel that contain me and wrack me with guilt. I'm just, incredibly happy.

I mentioned a friend before, Ashley. I feel I don't give her enough credit sometimes. She's seen me move through the incredibly stupid things I've done in life, and I've seen her do some equally retarded things, however, we're still incredibly close. No matter how many times she touches the stove, it's hell bent to last as a tight friendship. How could I ever keep going with out it. It's like that with her, and the boys. I didn't have boys before this year, and now I do. Quinn, Twinkee, Jordan, Derrick, my boys! Imagine, me actually having boys. I talked to Julianna tonight, about how I came about knowing each of them, how I remember those budding moments as she remembered her's with Josh and Hilary.

I adore those two, Josh and Hilary, the satisfaction they give her, and at the same time they're incredibly down to earth and understanding people. I would be extremely audacious to think I should ever be so close to them, but I hope in time maybe I can see that side of them. They are, along with my friends, the epitome of what friendship is. The relationship, the time spent together, the relaxed sensation of belonging. It's all there, in that tight knit thread of reality. Yes, how audacious I am to think I will ever thread such relationships with the two closest people to Julianna, J-bomb, my love.

I do not intend to leave any out. I care about too many to enumerate a full list, and I'm aware that each of you has an affinity with myself, and with your own tightest group of friends. Here's to hoping you share such amité with your friends.

Twice :)

- Your Humble Narrator

Saturday, December 27, 2008

Inertiatic ESP

I've decided that I need some motivational inertia to keep up this weight lifting/weight losing routine. I find that as time passes, I lose willpower more and more and begin to simply believe that the state I am currently in is just dandy. Hold your pity compliments. I'm trying to make the Memorial Swim Team next year, and this requires some what of a toned physique. I need to lift weights, to swim, and to eat like an athlete that doesn't have an incredibly high metabolism. I know all of this sounds extreme, but if you knew the weight history of my family, you'd agree with me.

So, I don't know how I'm supposed to keep the inertia of my initial willpower burst. It's going to be somewhat of an obstacle I have to leap in order to maintain a routine as near to the one I'm hoping to keep. I want to run nearly every morning, and lift weights on varying intervals. I also want to swim daily, until the end of the school year, and once every two days upon the end of school. This is unattainable I believe, but this is the ideal scheduel for me. If you have any tips let me know.

Next is food. I have an unhealthy obsession with food and it's sweet sweet taste. I can't seem to wrap my head around any tangible method of ridding myself of the temptation of sweet and greasy food. I know it's bad for me, but I somehow convince myself that I'll work it off, yet I never do. Heeeellllpppp. If you have any good tasting, healthy food, let me know. I'm calling you out on this one Quinn. I'll still indulge, and on the routine I hope to keep, I don't think such indulgence would be a terrible detriment.

This is really the only thing causing me trepidation at the moment, mostly on account of the christmas season offering soooo much temptation. On a brighter note, I finally got an iPod, and conformed to the nation of iPod users. I also recieved and Xbox 360, which I'm sure will allow much sleep deprivation and even more health deterioration as the next week continues. It's going to be a constant flow of christmas cookies and Fable 2 (at least until I complete it). Going along with the theme of gifts. I am now the proud owner of very much to do with Dungeons and Dragons. Am I excited? You bet I am. I better be playing with my friends soon, as I am very much lusting to throw them into some kind of predicament.

I'm going to stop now, as this is going to run long, and many of you will never want to read such daunting rubish. Much appreciated

-Your humble Narrator

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Merry Christmas

So, it's the christmas season, as you all very well know, and this would be the reason for my lack of updates, which I apologize sincerely for. before I get into my rant on christmas, and my explinaton of my love of it, I need to make a few very neccesary apologies. In the last blog I wrote, I understand some things were misinerpreted, and were surely taken in such a way that they should not have been. Also, I need to apologize to some one I generalized in a group, there's something very wrong about the way I mentioned them

First of all, I owe an apology to the efigy of Aphrodite that I have been blessed with. She's Julianna, as you may have guessed, and I know I upset her with something I wrote, and how I worded it in a previous post. The word replaced was used, in some sense, and it was taken in the wrong context. My choice of words was such on account of the way on referred to our relationship. They told me I had replaced Elizabeth with Julianna, and I was trying to show this person just how wrong they were be using their own terms in what I thought was a light favoring Julianna. For anyone who did misinerpret it, I hope you see this. I love her, Julianna, with more heart than most could know. It brings chills to my mind to tell her I love her, her beauty, her art, her voice, and her ever peircing and knowing eyes. If our relationship was a ''rebound'' as some have deemed it, she would have seen through such a facade, as many others would have. She is more to me than that, she makes me happy, in every moment I spend with her, perpetually am I jovial and content, if not overjoyed while she is in my presence. I am graced, and blessed, to have her choose some one such as me, and to have her give me a chance to explain what she read and was wrongly considering.

The second apology goes to Jessica McCormick. In the last post I generalized JEESH and their actions, however Jessica played no part in it. She is pure of soul and intention and still remains very true to the friendship she pledged to me in the past. I owe her more than she could know, her insights have seen me through many a peril. It is a sin if she had read the last post. I fear I may never apology rightfully enough if she had. If any think wrongly of her, do not, for she is a blessing in herself, and any friend of hers is extremely lucky.

Now, I may digress and explain christmas, as it is viewed by me, your humble narrator. To me, this time, the time spent amoung family and friends is irreplacable, however working as I did through the break I found some trepidation in the exploitation that some sought in it. It was a terrible thing to see how people were thrashing and cursing in my grocery store at such a joyous time, and it pained me to see the lonesome expressions shared on some of the faces of my peers. I wished to bring such happiness to all those around me, however the ability to do so eluded me far too often, and I apologize for not being capable enough.

My family is bonding more than ever now, and I see the stress acting as a prelude to this time is the reason they were angry with me, and I apologize for the hurtful words said about them, they had all the right to think irrationally, even quickly to my malignant actions. I thank them very much for the tolerance they showed me. My father is putting a step forward in relating with me, standing in my defence, taking part in my jokes, showing more of the semblence mentioned in an earlier blog. I wish I would have gotten him the cook book I had planned on, it would have been something we could've taken part in together, however many occasions still rest for me to share in this experience with him.

I saw many of my relatives, and found to love them even more than ever. I believe I am transitioning far into maturity at this point, I admired my gifts more than ever, and thought it extravagent and mindless that so many people should spend so much money on. I would hope they saw the same joy in my gifts to them. To give, had more gravity than ever as well. This year may have been my metaphorical coming of age, and I hope this is true.

To all of you who read, I wish you a merry christmas, and I hope that you understand my apology, for I am truly and sincerely sorry for this pain. Julianna, if you do read this. I love you, and I hope you understand where I faltered. It means more to me than you could know that we resolved this..

Merry Christmas!

-Your humble narrator

Monday, December 22, 2008

Why are coats so important?

I've never, not understood, something so greatly in my short years here on this planet. I know you can call me over dramatic or whatever terrible thing you choose to call me upon reading this, but I feel this is the only real way to explain how I felt upon returning home last night. Basically, what had been a really bad day on account of work, turned into a worse day on account of my family, which turned into a colossally horrible day on account of my own thought patterns. I most likely could have avoided the entirety of my misery if I had have just not gone home, if I had refused to go home in the allotted time.

For the last two weeks, my parents have been on my back, in such a way that I cannot rid myself of the guilt they put on me. I left two coats at school, one at derrick's and Julianna has my football coat. Four coats that just aren't in the house, and my parents are outraged by it. They have been consistently taunting me and harassing me about these coats. Anyway, that's simply the preamble. After the annoyance of the lost coats, I've become the conduit of guilt in the household. Meaning, every time something is lost, broken, misplaced, or even mistaken for something else in the house, I'm the first to come to blame. I apparently lost my father's coat, and shoes. I also lost a watch that hasn't left my room in two years, not to mention the fact that I've appeared to have lost my mother's coat as well. I haven't worn any of these things in so long, that I don't remember the last time I saw them, not to mention the fact that most of the articles, besides my own, wouldn't fit me at all. This is all foolish, but it gets worse.

Last night, after having to come home from Quinn's early, I was confronted by my father. He'd actually enumerated a list of all the things I've "lost" in the last year. He didn't understand why I was so upset with him, he actually referred to his audacious confrontation as a "calm conversation" with me. Needless to say it got out of hand, and he condemned me to home until I found all the items on the list. This was just fantastic. I've been trying so hard to make common ground with my father but all he seems to care about are his TVs and possessions that go missing that aren't even his. He's pushing himself further and further away from me, and even though I ask him to work out with me, run with me, cook with me, he seems to take the liberty of doing all this without me. I'm done trying, this is the end of my attempts to make amends with that man. I can barely consider him my father anymore, he's simply my mother's enforcer.

So, upon entering the house, in a fit of rage, I got to my room as quickly as possible and threw myself onto my bed, face down. I didn't want to use my computer, or my cell phone, they were all possession given to me by my parents, who considered me to not have any respect for the possession they had given me. I didn't want to give them the benefit of the doubt and think they had anything to take away from me. Foolish, I know. I was laying there, thinking, and I began to ponder of all the pressures they put on me to do so well. All the things that I'm striving to do well, and the only appreciation I get for any of it is a pat on the back whenever my report card comes through. However, this pat on the back is always accompanied with the reminder that "You could do better, get Valedictorian, or you're not part of the family anymore." Of course they attend a couple of my concerts, however, because of my fantastic mother's critical nature, the only words I get about the shows are how badly I sang, and how I shouldn't "scream" when I'm playing any more, that it doesn't sound good. Do they support my writing? Maybe, but I'd never know, they'd never tell, they're too busy being angry with me.

So, here I was, face down on my bed, and I didn't want to talk to any one. Couldn't talk to any one, about how deep in the hole I was. I didn't want to because I've heard it so often that I knew I would just sound like I was whining. I know I've got it good, I've got more than most, but sometimes I suppose it's hard too. Julianna was in the states, but I don't find I could tell her anyway, for some reason I think that would make it less possible for her to be open with me. I thought about talking to Ashley, but I didn't want to bother her, we were on such jovial terms that I didn't want her to have to worry about simple trepidations in my life at the time. There was always Becky, but she has enough to worry about... I didn't want to make her have part of my burden, she seems to take the dramatic, slightly over dramatically.

All of "JEESH" surely turned their backs on me, so how could I go to them and ask for comfort when I know none of them care at all. I'm calling all of you out, if any of you read this. I haven't gotten so much as a phone call, and Erica seemed begrudging to even hear from me in the mall let alone hug me back. I can taste the lies on the air you people live in. You told me I was your best friend, or one of so, then upon a break up, you flat out leave me. I appreciate it. Honestly.

And, once again, Liz came into my mind. I wanted to reach out, to call her, to end all this stupid feuding, the stopped looks between us. I wanted to tell her that I understood her pain, and to apologize for all the times I was insincere, or uncaring. But I suppose I can't do that, and will never be able to. So therefore, I was alone. Completely and entirely alone. My parents didn't want to talk to me, my sister wouldn't want to talk to me, and none of my friends have shown me that I can really come to them with whatever is wrong. I was truthfully, and utterly alone in that moment.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Polyphasic Sleep Experiment (day 3)

Alright... last night, could have gone a lot better than it did. As far as I know, I woke up after my first nap, decided there was something funky going on, and went back to sleep until my alarm to wake me after my second nap brought me around at six thirty. Just in time for work. It was very perturbing to have to shuffle off with only a couple of hours of sleep under my belt, however simply because of having little sleep the night before, the nap I took on my break was greatly facilitated. I find the hardest part of this experiment is getting to sleep at the appropriate times. It takes me a long time to fall asleep, even in the most comfortable of places, so I'm not sure if I'll always be able to fall asleep properly where ever I may be at the given time of a nap.

Today at work something struck me as a little peculiar. It was Marilyn, my manager and expert scheduler. She personally named, dated and signed christmas cards for each other front end employees. I was touched when I got mine. She didn't have to do this for us at all, as the company accounted a christmas bonus with our last pay before ''santa comes''. I liked it, as a personal touch. She also said Merry Christmas to each of us as she handed us the christmas card, yet another kind notion. I think I like it where I work because it seems a little like home each time I'm there. Perhaps that is just the aura sobeys is designed to have, I'm not sure, however it seems like my home regardless.

Upon returning from work, I took a nap at two, and spent the gist of the rest of my day to this point doing nothing. Productively doing nothing of course. I believe Twinkee, Quinn and myself will probably end up doing something again tonight. I pray it's nothing like seven pounds again. I did not mind the movie too badly, however I could've done without the new Will Smoof flop. Wish me luck in my endeavors of polyphasic sleep.

I'm going to go decorate a tree.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Polyphase Experiment (day 2)

Alright, here we are. On the verge of delving into something I may very well fail at. Something I not exactly supported in, and something that is potentially dangerous to my health. Am I looking back, of course, but that is only my nature. I am somewhat inclined to be a pessimist, or rather, I tend to over think things to the point in which they are far from what they initially were and therefore produce much stranger doubts. I'm going to attempt it for as long as I can retain the schedule, if it seems to benefit me in any way at all. Tomorrow I work at 7am... that's going to be a blast. I'll be incredibly sleep deprived, and very cranky. I'm sure the carts will understand my quelled anger.

Perhaps I'll use my work as a conduit. A way to motivate me to accomplish many goals. I will be able to focus on the monotonous task of pushing carts around a snowy and incredibly crowded parking lot, therein occupying myself in such a way that simply being at home could never do. I'm excited, and afraid at the same time. I fear my caffeine intake is going to increase significantly, just to keep me stable. I'll try to avoid this consequence as much as possible however.

On another note, Julianna, my love, who is currently traversing Canada with her father, has come into some trouble. I'm not sure if she's angry with me, or just terribly apathetic at the moment. I would hope to believe the matter, as I would be incredibly uncaring had I fallen and gravely hurt myself as she did, on such a joyous occasion as the voyage she is currently on. I worry of course, but she does not stop this fear in any way, as she had to stop texting me. Oh how horrendous. I cannot wait to hear from her again, for I care quite deeply about this one.

There was something I saw tonight, in a lack luster Will Smith film, and brought on a sort of remembrance, something that brought to my mind a strange longing. I saw the tears flowing gently down a woman's face. I'm not sure if this is metaphorical in any sense, however, I believe I miss the care I showed one in the past years. Not necessarily in the excess which I was needed to show such compassion, but to see true emotion as that brought back a sincere longing for that single person. I have replaced her for lack of a better word, but by some one different, some one whom I love, and cherish, as she brings light to my soul and a jovial tune to my lips. This one still visits me from time to time though. I hope to rid my self of that...

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Polyphasic Experiment (day 1)

I'm considering this my first day of my polyphasic sleep experiment. Polyphasic sleep, is a style of sleep that allows you to take thirty minute naps at four hour intervals to allow yourself nearly 4 extra hours every day. It is considered extremely healthy as it triggers your body to go into REM sleep as soon as you lay down, and therefore allows you the same amount of rest in the small time. I'm hoping it is successful as it would be a powerful asset in my university career. I hope all of your support is behind me!

This is my first day, as all the planning took place. Tonight will be my last night in monophasic sleep mode. I'll be taking my first thirty minute "nap" tomorrow night around 1:30, the only complication is work this weekend. I'll be pretty high on caffine at that point, so try to stay away from my cranky self as much as humanly possible for the next week or so. This is going to be an extremely interesting experience and I plan to post a video blog per day, along with some text explaining in greater detail my experience.

The benefits, to me, seem to be colossal and are entirely worth the rocky first four days of the experiment. I believe that in the extra time I will be able to work much more efficiently with anything I have to do. Filling out scholarships will be my premier worry over the break. It may only last two weeks, it may last several weeks longer than that. Wish me luck everyone!! I'm going to go savor my last full night of sleep. I'll write in the morning and let you know if it was any more pleasing.

Polyphasic Sleep Schedual



Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Come back to Our Sheep

I'm looking back over my older posts and here realize how incredibly lengthy and monotonous they are. I've decided to cut them down by a fraction to save myself, and yourself, the agony of having so many words pass in front of your face. Besides, most of it was just fluff anyway? Right? No... i think I not, but it's not incredibly necessary, so I hereby pronounce the end of my Polonious-like wordiness.

But, as the french say, reviens a nos moutons. Which is something french actually say. It translates exactly as, "Come back to our sheep". I never quite understood the french on a proverbial level, but I digress. What puzzled me in this past week was a conflict Steve Vai had... with himself. It was strange to see the same person actually being able to act as though he were interacting with himself. It was of course a clever video trick, however it brought some things to my mind that are slightly unsettling. After Vai played a solo, his likeness referred to him as a ''wanker'', and Vai kindly accepted as though he were so confident in his own ability that insulting himself was twisted around into some sort of compliment. Several more scenes were played out in such a manner, yet the most puzzling of all, was at the point where Steve and Steve actually argued. It was a verbalization of inner conflict.

I wondered how strange it might be to actually work a conflict through with my own image. Looking into the immaculate likeness of myself, complete in every detail, and actually hearing my own thoughts come through in a voice that I seldom hear properly. My Own. Would it help the conflict? Or would each part of my personality taking part in the conflict find the other's opinion much more unnerving when spoken, and effectively drop their argumentative nature. I think this might be what would happen, hence my extremely indecisive manner. Maybe though, it would actually help to hear how incredibly irresponsible some of my premeditation is. Maybe this verbalization would greatly help me in the future.

I'll have to make a phone call and ask Dr. Octogonapus to fabricate an absolute and complete double of myself to talk to on occasion, however actually physically having another existing self would be... well I suppose that's a completely other blog altogether. Go to bed and stop reading this sholock...

Monday, December 15, 2008


I found myself in a room chalked full of people today, and I found myself wondering again. Allowing my mind to wander into the aimless space it finds solitude in so many times. Looking back on the photos from the day spent in the home of a Pulamoo (the hell is a pulamoo?) I found that I didn't look as despondent as I actually was. I thought about a lot of things, which may have been chlorine induced, or may have been on account of the abundance of chlorine I absorbed in the run of that day. I met so many people, and re-met more people yet in a different light than I'd ever seen them before. It was a complicated turn of events when I saw some of the people of my past, particularly the younger sibling of some one I'd spent so much time with when I was younger.

It made me ponder mostly on the value of friendship. I remember a close friend uttering something along the lines of ''Hey Jeff, come meet my new best friend!". This new best friend of course being a student from the Rothsay High swim team who had just come to the threshold of his adulthood. He was nineteen, and this is what some one would have liked to have based the value of friendship. It was an obvious joke, and we shared a laugh about it, however what surprised me most was this boys personality once the three of us actually began to talk. It was odd how much I became to know him in such a short time, and based only on the term that he was the age that he was? Does age really have this much pull on us?

I believe earlier I mentioned some one's younger sibling. It was some one who I was extremely close to in the past, and I found myself feeling incredibly strange because, she was in fact the younger sibling. I found a barrier in this. Could I ever see it the same way to share a friendship with this one even though she was younger, and played the part of the younger sibling so well in the past? This was odd indeed. After only a few moments of sharing her pleasant company I realized the value of friendship was there present as well, just as her older sister's friendship had been. How strange it was to see some one evolve from the status of younger sister, to new found friend. I was happy and proud of this achievement. It was something phenomenal that I couldn't have wished more than to find.

Another strange occurrence was the re-met friend of a friend who lived in the area. One of the captains brought her to meet the team again, as she had two years in the past, but how a new light was shed. It was a want for kinship with this one I had. It was not a crush, that would be a silly thought for I am ever and endlessly committed to some one I share extremely strong feelings for. How could they be conquered? No this musically artistic one shed a light that made me want to simply bask in her ability as I would have those bask in my own. It was something of a inner vision of mine when I began playing and heard her sing along. I adored it, such shared emotion in only a small moment. There is a distance, and it is true I will perhaps never lay eyes on her again, but it was something fun, and perhaps I'll play music next to her again. One could only hope, for I adored her being there. One could only hope.

Josh and Jeremiah, these two shone for me as well. How many years I have known them and not valued them as I do now. They were next to me for the entire duration, but there was something more there. A tender caring I found in Watkins, and in Jeremiah a jovial soul. I have friends, of course that I spend the gist of my time with, amazing entertainers, and people I see as my brothers, people I'd gladly take a bullet for. These two others though, found their way to me, in such a way that I could never deny them kinship. Perhaps in the months to come I may know them as I know my brothers, mayhap in a different way, but still positive. I realized how much I cared for them in wishing Josh to succeed in his race. I ran from the observation room to deliver him the working goggles he so lacked, however, upon arriving I sadly only saw his back end retreating gracefully into the water. I dropped my hands to my side and sighed. Then my iPod fell out of my pocket onto the floor and into the puddle of water at my side. I contemplated becoming an hero for a couple of moments, but soon just retreated to the sanctuary of the observation room.

The friends I've made, I hope to keep them at my side. My brothers, I have decided to bring to me closer than I ever have before, and my love, I hope to bring to tears with the passion of my motion and kiss. One I will never see again, two that will always be at my side and an impromptu sibling that became a friend in only a few moments of improvised speech. A successful run of events, something terrific I find. I hope that some day I will see them in this light again. I can only hope the artist I found returns though. That one of the foremost.

Saturday, December 13, 2008


It's strange. Today, the first time I worked in nearly a full turn of a week, I was witness to something painfully peculiar. It struck me as odd, yet it reminded me of something I bore witness to only a few weeks ago. It made me recollect the strange resemblance you see in children and their parents, whether it is on purpose or not, I'm not sure. Most biology says it is purely genetic, and each man's son will follow in his father's footsteps. It is a painful and perpetual process in some cases, yet for some it is something that propels them to heights they'd never achieved were in not for their given genetics. Today I saw what made me think on these things again, so, for the anonymous public who may be viewing, I share the moment with you.

I was working, as I began early, in the grocery store which I find solace in some of the harder days of my life, and I saw a child, sitting in a cart, staring intently at their mother. They were a young child, perhaps only a couple years of age, yet it seemed they had a profound understanding of their mother's inner turmoil. The mother wore a painful expression on her face, one of pure exhaustion, as though she had seen so much and said only enough in her short day of Christmas shopping with her child. Her expression was completely sincere, there was lethargy showing in her eyes and her jaw rested agape, as she seemed to be breathing heavily simply from the burden of the day she had just been part of. A natural expression yes, one not uncommon in a place like a grocery store, yet it seemed peculiar to me, because a) I over analyze everything, and b) because the small child in the cart she pushed wore the identical expression.

His eyes nearly pushed out of his face in an exaggerated exhaustion, mouth hung open in lethargy, and head hung at almost the precise angle his mother's was. This was incredible to me. He seemed to have mimicked it, yet the emotion behind in, the feelings his mother wore, were prominent therein. His intent stare made it seem as though he were trying for this effect, I would not have guessed any differently had he not moved his head to the side and kept the exact same emotion. It would have been even odder to his mother were she not preoccupied with her own trepidation. Perhaps his genetics were causing him to feel this emotion through her.

The reason it struck me so, is because I did not believe the semblance existed between me and any other member of my family save the stubbornness my mother and I share. I did not believe so until, of course, two years ago. I was laying in a tent, whilst camping with my kin, trying very much so to find refuge from the shouting voices of adults. I could not find sleep, so like any self respecting child I began to eavesdrop. What I heard was somewhat of a domestic dispute between a husband and wife. My uncle and his girlfriend were the ones creating such a dispute. I believed them entirely alone until I heard my father, begin as a mediator between the two feuding sides.

After much heated conflict, my uncle left to find solace in his warm trailer and left my father and his enraged girlfriend sitting at the burning cinders of the past raging fire. This is when it became to become extremely surreal for me, the impromptu audience of the situation. I heard my father talking to her, in much the same tone and dialect, as I did to the distressed teenage girls who find some refuge in my advice. He was tenacious with his efforts to lift the spirits of this extremely distraught woman, and it seemed that he was fueled by the incense of the fire withering away, as though it's embers were a signal that the night was about to end, as was the night for this woman. She was going to go to bed alone and angry, and the conflict would find itself lingering into the following days.

What truly shocked me was his diction. The words he was using. They were nearly exactly the same as my own. That which he spoke bore such a resemblance to my own advice that I was taken aback, and nearly disturbed. My father and I could not be much different than we are, physically no, yet emotionally I thought we had much distance. However, here he was, he had become the catalyst of emotional recovery much the way I had in the previous years. He continued to speak, cooing the inflamed woman into a lull of assurance. He continued to talk until she conceded to attempting to talk to my uncle before reposing, that is, if he hadn't found the dark of sleep already.

Though it was alcohol borne and much resembled a boched episode of doctor Phil, the latter showing me how ridiculous I sounded in such moments, it gave me some hope for my relationship with Pops. I didn't know how to deal with this new information. Normally I would sit upon it and think more, which I did, but I accepted it nearly instantaneously. It is hope I found there, that being like your father is always possible.

I do not say this is absolute truth. That each man's son will repeat his father's actions, however it is something that saved me slightly. I hope all of you can find it, the pro relationships with your parents. It's something that provided some gusto in spending time with my family, this quality being something good in my mind. That child meticulously crafting his mother's facade calmed me, and made me glad, hopefully, and sincerely hopefully, he will continue on such a path and find a meaningful bond with her.


Friday, December 12, 2008

Hope Climbs atop the Piano

I've come across yet another inward thought. It happened this morning, as I clung to the phone with some kind of false hope that school might be canceled. I realized just how much faith I put in the weather broadcaster, and I realized how much hype had been made simply because of one meteorologists assumption. Of course, we're all aware that, the gist of the time, a meteorologist will make a blatantly incorrect assumption, that's simply their jobs as meteorologists to be as inconsistent as possible. This leaves me thinking though, of how people will always, despite the situation, feel that slight glimmer of hope and explore the possibilities. This morning, for example, it wasn't even snowing, yet I still called the school cancellation line. I still wanted to explore the faint possibility that the district might keep us home become of the icy roads.

All this strange hope truly makes me wonder about the human condition. Are we innately hopeful? Is every person born an optimist? I think it may be so. The conditions we end up being a part of will of course giveth or taketh away from the impenetrable optimism we are a part of in our early youth, in my opinion though, that strong hope never completely diminishes. I must call upon my example of the pending storm today once again as an example. Many people, though muted because of the cabaret tonight, wished of school being canceled this day, simply because they were given a faint hope by the jumble of snowy rumors floating around. The hope was shared universally, there did not seem to be one whom discouraged the idea. Even the drug dealers, who make their business in the hallowed halls of the school, seemed to watch the windows in a still anticipation, hoping for the snow to begin to fall.

This is all quite nice and all, but it's not concrete enough proof for me. I want to see the depth in people so badly. I want to be able to look through their eyes and truly tell how sincere that hope which they cling on to is. I know it would not be an easy task, for many have suffered through so many painful difficulties that hope is so insufficient that I could not grapple onto it, and save it. However, if ever came across one with such insubstantial hope, I would take them in and try to give them solace through instilling hope in them. This may make overbearing though, and I would not wish that, so perhaps with those whom suffer from lack of hope, the world truly will be much darker than for the ones who've retained their optimism.

This storm had better come soon, or I feel even my hope will diminish beyond tangibility. They've been hyping this storm for more than a week now, warning us, keeping us on edge about something to, to me, seems entirely fictional at this point. I hope it comes soon simply so I can get some relief. I can't always be waking up early just to get let down upon looking out of my bedroom window at yet another painfully stereotypical Saint John day. Damned Fog..

Even a torrential rain fall would've sufficed for me today, I think I just enjoy the general chaos caused by all this unpredictable weather. Mother Nature and I share the same sense of humor I feel. But perhaps not, because even though I don't mind going to school each day, it being a tired routine and quite boring at that, I feel that I could've used a day off from all of the things that have been happening, all the work. Mother Nature should've thrown me a proverbial bone for recycling since '91. I suppose it can't be helped now. Wish me luck at the school, and try to keep that hopeful side of you!

Thursday, December 11, 2008

But Parents just don't understand!

Y'know, I sometimes wonder, and oft from time to to, drift to thoughts of parents, or what happens when you grow old, of what happens when all the world suddenly becomes a lot more dependant on you. I wonder when I'll be the one depended on, in more of a way then I ever have been, by giving life to some one. To my some one. I wonder if it's actually a transformation, or more of a metamorphasis. I would be more comforted in knowing that it is a process, rather than a painful transformation. I don't think I could deal with losing my youth with such a shocking velocity. Or, maybe not. It's something to sit upon in my trials I suppose, how I'd like my loss of innocence to occur.

I blame most of my worry, as many of my peers would, on my overbearing mother. How worried I am that I may ending up being the same way as her. She's a wonderful mother of course, and made most of my life much more facile than I could have ever dreamed of having it. All of this facility however comes at a price. She is absolutely and inexplicably impossible. There is not a word that my pass before her that she will not judge and opinionate upon, and there is not one day that will past that she won't stalk into my room and find yet another bland and mundane excuse to be mad at me, as though I were the one to ruin her day by leaving a sock on the floor the night previous. How could it be so unerving to some one that there's a piece of dirty laundry on the floor.

I'm sure there's a multitude of reasons why she should be angry, and that I simply don't understand, however, it's incredibly taxing of my affection to constantly be tread upon in the throes of my mother's infinite yet subtle anger. Can I do nothing right? But I digress, this isn't explicitly about me and my mother.

I feel that the time is coming too soon when I may face the trials of the world. When I may have to put on a shelf the dreams I've held dear for so long, and take up the keys to a volvo. Or maybe a stationwagon, they are a much more agreeable vehicle, though you sacrifice style for safety rating, maybe an oldsmobile would suit me better in my middle age to came. Nevertheless, I know the care free days of this youth are coming to an end, already I can feel a muzzle falling onto my gaping maw. It's as though I've already taken on so much, that I feel the bitter blood my family is so akin to, already seeping into my viens. Perhaps I'll be free of it, from seeing as
.much anger as I've seen, or rather, as much submission on account of anger.

I hope for my children's sake that I can listen and agree unconditionally, as though everything they say is more important than any foolish pride I cling on to. I'm getting a degree yes, but this won't make me some sort of god of knowledge, infinitely capable of solving everything with simply my logic guiding my blindly into an answer.

Mayhaps someday I'll truly know, as my mother puts it, what it feels like. Maybe we all will understand the extreme trepidation our parents feel when they see the trival parts of our youth go arry and cause them some sort of pain. I hope honestly that I cause little more pain, for when my loss of innocence comes, I would not like it to be painful, I would not like to feel I'm losing a part of me. I wish for my loss of innocence not be a dive into ignorance, I wish it to honestly be a melding of responsibilty and wreckless youthful ambition. Perhaps then I will not feel I've lost anything at all in the transformation into an adult.

Outside the funeral home

It's strange, the way one can take a seemingly mundane thing and twist it in their minds to create an elaborate life story. They make their own characters and plot at such an alarming speed, that the reality and plausibility of the story becomes malleable. It usually becomes something that is not truthfully, true. It's almost as if we're using objects, or people, that we see and find peculiar, and take advantage of their disposition, if objects could have disposition.

I feel guilty, or nearly so, as I've been doing this quite frequently lately. It's as though, when something normal, strikes me as incredibly odd, it suddenly becomes rounded. I feel obliged to let my mind wander into the realm of endless possibilities that the situation I have just witnessed, may exist within. The situation doesn't have to be extremely out of the ordinary, just a passing interest. It's happened to me on many occasions, and I feel as though I should've written more examples down, however I do have one to provide.

Not a week ago, I saw funeral procession about to leave the parlors, a melancholy sight to even the hardest of hearts. It was not the black and mourning procession itself that intrigued me though, it was a man crossing the drive up to the parlor. He had dropped his book bag and spilled it's contents onto the sidewalk. He had a look of utter despair on his face, as if nothing else could have gone wrong in his life that day. The weather was perfect, the place and timing seemed to be in line for me to create some story about this man and his spilled things.

I analyzed the situation for a brief moment, and realized he must not have had a particularly good day, and might not have even been aware of the funeral taking place. However, it seemed as though he felt the same loss, the same sense of distress that the people in the parlor felt. It was a relative sense of course, as a few spilled things could never compare to a life, however I knew that, given the right place, tears might have been shed by this man for yet another thing falling out of place that evening. I felt for him, as I felt for the ones who'd lost their loved one. It was as though they shared the depressing atmosphere.

This made me of course wonder on death itself, as though it emanated that desperation. Maybe that man dropped his bag outside of that funeral for a reason. Perhaps it was the dead within the home trying to push their bad karma on others, trying to purge themselves through allowing each living being to suffer just slightly. This could account for the tears shed as well. If this is the case, I would feel selfish not to have taken part in the small dropping of things. I would have felt guilty had I not seen the tearful procession and the funeral home. Yes, I've concluded that that was my purpose. I was to view the situation as an aid to the dead, trying to help them overcome the terrible things that they'd see in the afterlife be imparting just a small part of their burden on myself.

I realize this is all mostly nonsense, that the man probably just dropped his bag, and that processions cry, because it's a sad thing to lose a life. But because the two groups present at that time and event, both felt such despair (even though they were only relative to situations), perhaps there is more to emotion than we truly know. Perhaps

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

It's been a year.

It seems like I tend to do this in spurts. I go a little while without blogging, and then suddenly I jump into again with some burst of gusto. I like looking back, I suppose, on all the things I wrote in the past. It's funny how my penmanship stays the same, yet the words spilled out of the pen always seem to change. It's as though I can't even really begin to imagine what the world would be like if I couldn't change my writing, or my opinions. Who would I be if I hadn't evolved, or changed from what I was only a year ago. Astounding to think of really.

I'm somewhat of a musician, or more so accomplished than I was. I recorded some songs independently, and by that, I mean I managed to work a digital camera in my favor. I guess they're somewhat amusing, you can find them on facebook, don't be afraid to friend me! However, I warn you, it's not the John Mayer quality tunes you might find while parousing youtube. I take enjoyment in being able to share a jovial tune with the world around me, however, in this day an aged, I must expect to be judged. In less words, I'd appreciate you watching and critiquing, and don't hold the harsh, I'd be glad to see what you say about me, be it good, be it bad.

An abundance of things have happened in which I'm due to elaborate on, however, I feel I should leave out some of the unpleasantnesses on account of the bitter public which may become a viewing audience of this literature. However, when I'm aptly satisfied that prying eyes will not invade, I'll make special note of how my personal life deteriorated and rebuilt in the two months of the past summer. It was bliss, ecstasy, and perhaps the most self destruction I've ever seen, but I digress. There is plenty of time to make note of all the things that have happened, now I feel I should provide you with somewhat of a quality post.

My life, today, has become something I've envied, something I've viewed from the outside for nearly a decade. I've become a funlover and perhaps that's a good thing, perhaps not, however I'm exactly where I want to be. I see the world in a different light now that I've trodden the path away from the straight-edge and I feel it should be a good future for me. I am commited, emotionally yes, and I plan to stay in such a commitment for a long time to come. I believe yesterday was the greatest leap I've taken. To go from unsure of the status, to absolutely concrete in a matter of twenty-four hours is a matter of love itself, perhaps more perplexing than anything I've seen in the last two years. However, the latter was somewhat of a distraught mess, but once again, I digress.

I feel I may end the post now in confidence that you have be subtly recapped on my life. I plan to add some more structure to my morning by attempting a blog each day. Maybe skip a weekend here or there, however, I will be prompt if any become dependent and seeing it each day. I realize how audacious and narcissistic this assumption is, however, I hope I may please the few eyes that will ever graze the fodder of the words that describe my dear life.

Thank you for listening.