BLOGDUCTIVITY 2

'The week is right out our back door so it's time to start making some agendas for the week to come.
First off, you've got a,  math quiz tomorrow, you're gonna wanna get on that.
Second, your comm studies stuff is looking alright.
Third, let's look at the time based schedule.

8:30am - The wake up

Alarm, pants, alarm, pants. If I don't go directly from the alarm clock to my pants I won't stay out of bed.

8:40am - Get out of the room

Just keep walking man, no obstacles stand in the way now.

Get some Sci- Cafe, danish and a coffee, just like old times

10:30am - Stats lab

It's just a tutorial. Not to say it's just a tutorial, but there's no quiz, don't freak.

11:45-ish: Meal Hall

Grab something fast, math quiz is coming up quick, only have about three hours to get three techniques down. No facebook no facebook no facebook.

12:00 - 3:00pm

Presumably studying. Take some time off to go to the store if you can, but otherwise you'll just have to do without. Pick up a pack of sunflower seeds this time. Those other ones went bad.

3:00pm

Math Lab, wussup.

Try to get to the gym after/before supper, because you have a comm studies meeting.

7:00pm - Comm studies meeting.

Tricia, Kerri, Heather, shout out.

That's it, throw down some free time. Tea probs.

PICTURE OF THE DAY:

WEEKEND TOP TEN

WEEKEND TOP TEN

SEQUENCE OF THE WEEKEND

BIG BOOTY BITCHES.

RATTLED.

BURSEY.

KAYLA FACE.

Blogductivity

Here's this new thing I'm trying, I'm gonna plot out tomorrow right now, so I don't have to spend a bunch of time thinking about and thus preventing myself from sleeping. Daily thing? I hope so.

8:30am: Wake up

Sci Cafe, danish and a coffee

9am: Math 2000 (Multivariable Calculus)

Bring your phone, but pay attention BUD.

10am: Song Writing sesh

Listen to some songs, reflect on them, try to come up with something in an hour

11:15am: Lunch daawwwg

Dining hall, grab a coffee, probs gym after

12:00noon: return from meal hall

Stop thinking about smoking before you go inside. You’re quitting.

Juice, shorts, sneakers, gym

~1:00pm: Get some serious heat on the shit awards template

2:00pm: Be a house president, go visit/annoy your residents.

Afternoon tasks to be completed: You’re going to have to look at your math homework a little bit, so get that out of the way first, trust me, you’ll thank yourself. Touch up that course load for next semester, eyeball a couple years ahead while you’re at it.

Here’s a new thing, and make sure it happens: Take a picture to be uploaded to this blog, this should happen every day. Picture of the day’s pretty cool.

Back to the Start

It's strange how things start to fit together. You're finding yourself begging for a small moment of relaxtion while you're technically still relaxing most of the time. Talking talking talking to people never used to be an issue. You loved it, craved it, needed that attention to be around you. Now you're teaching guitar for nostalgic value as opposed to the profit. But that doesn't mean you don't have much money. It seems that centers all of it.The money you have determines the quality of life is constantly lingering in limbo.

This isn't at all about the plus minus plus minus though, this used to be about simple things. Little instances being elaborated into grandoise images of my thought process. So let's kick back and talk about some simple things.

People, it's always about people people people, the way they act and look. The way they make themselves, treat themselves. It's all an elaborate puzzle. It's those people you make up stories for though. The people who get a nod from you in public, the one's you haven't said enough to. It's almost like you want to study the way they move. Their body language, the way they choose words. A short twitch of some muscle connected to the something or other nerve. I'm sure somewhere in the bio-psychology it all makes sense, but it's not that simple for me.

There's enough wondering about the closed books, but the open ones. Spread out on the floor. The ones who I talk to in detail with. The ones I miss. The neighbors who live down the street now instead of down the hall. It's a whole different dynamic, those close lasting relationships that were built are resetting, manifesting in the faces of all the small aquaintence nods. I'm almost close enough to consider myself lonely. Throwing myself into things, trying way too hard to get into some one's head. It's the way the air doesn't taste like home anymore that makes you miss people so close. It's the way you can't drive your car down to the beach and drink milkshakes and talk things out. It's the way she probably would've loved to be here. It's still the way the air doesn't taste like home.

At least you're coming to terms with what you're going to be. Something important, more than a peace of paper important. Maybe back to engineering or maybe into teaching. It's the way you can explain calculus in thirty seconds and have the person retain it. It's the honest talent of passing on how I learn so quickly with others. Maybe that's what I crave. Being a president, teaching people to survive here, that's how I can teach people to survive mathematics, equations. Numbers and music, the only words to me.

It's getting to the point of a ramble now. Sleep on it.

President

I'm sitting in my room, enjoying another cup of green tea before I pass out. I'll be waking up tomorrow at the usual time, ten minutes before class. Not getting up at 7:15, not going to the gym before class. I guess I'll do it later. Homework:not urgent, House Events: Steadily being planned, Green Tea: In full supply. Yeah, I'll have plenty of time later.

This is such a different life than four or five weeks ago. Routine is still in limbo and trying to figure out how to fit itself in appropriately. This means you have ample time to go meet these new exciting strange individual people. They know your name because of position. They know what house they live in, and where their loyalty lies. They genuinely want to know everyone else. This is what you have plenty of time for, going around and talking conversing trading information. It's overbearing sometimes, when there's such thin ice to make assumptions. Needless to say, me and my "craving attention" complex are both quite content.

You're still friends with the friends that were friends last year, and you talk to them enough, keeping up appropriately. They've surrounded you, but there's some new fervor of social interaction. You never realize who's exactly like you until you start asking everyone. That's what one of my first years taught me, he unconditionally introduced himself to any individual he happened to be near enough. It was almost incredible to watch, the process repeating itself. A benevolent approach working every time. This allowed me to expand my horizons.

It's like I live in a tv show when it's political time. All the house executives living in this sort of drama, wrapped up in the flooding of first years. This got broken that got broken this guy put his head through a window. All stories creating the perfect setting for a television reality show. We're out here, not getting any real benefits for being the "ring - leaders", risking our rooms every day. Naturally we're the protagonists in this television plot.
We could be personified as perfect beautiful people with flawless histories. No scars to make bigger stories about.

Sorry, don't wanna go back to preaching fatalism or anything. (Chuck Palaniuk to a number on me.)

Anyway my condition of life is perfect right now. I like the chaos of it. It's like an excuse to just run frantically and stir up everything you can for at least a week or so. Then when it all settles in, no one walks away any different. Is that weird?

Construction Work

I've got about two weeks left of construction work. Of moving dirt from point a to point b in different forms. I hate to say it, but I've learned quite a bit.

THINGS I LEARNED THIS SUMMER:

-> How to shovel, rake, and sweep dirt in many different ways
-> How to attach and detach different things to a back hoe.
-> The names of several pieces of equipment required to move dirt to point b from point a.
-> That even people with degrees have to work 12 hour days, or more.

There are probably more, they just don't seem to come to mind right now. Let's look at some other things I've been thinking about, as long as I feel like a minimalist.

THINGS I'M GOING TO DO FIRST SEMESTER:

-> Gym every day
-> Pool a couple times a week
-> Quit smoking
-> Be a good house president
-> Raise my GPA 0.2 points.
-> Find a good girl to marry.

A think it's a humble list, considering I have four months to accomplish all of this. Now, let's look at some things, while I'm on the topic of lists, that I consider to be good practices of a good house president of a good house.

THINGS A PRESIDENT SHOULD DO:

-> Get underagers drunk
-> Get people who prefer not to drink to be included
-> Drink responsibly
-> Provide a good example
-> Lead proudly
-> Drink less than four times a week
-> Drink twice a week
-> drink...
-> drink...

Everything seems to be surrounded by alcohol to me. This isn't good, so I'm going to come right up front and admit that I believe a university house president has to be all about liquor. This is wrong wrong wrong, and this me recognizing it. I guess this means I'm going to have REALLY figure out what this is all about.

THINGS I HAVE TO DO AS A PERSON:

-> Stop obsessing over fame
-> Use Dan Mangan as an example
-> Marry Steph Pike
-> Be less self-concious
-> Work on your addictive personality.

I feel like I'm making one of those drunk phone calls to myself, reminding myself what myself did in myselve's drunker stupor. Someday I'm going to look back and this and remember how motivated I can be in my time's of strength.

I think I'm going to start writing techno drums to record acoustic guitar and vocals over. Potheads will love it.

When I die

When I die, I want my tombstone to read...

I don't know what it is about this place. It's like there's no potential to grow into anything culturally. I'm stuck in this place. I'm Saint John fodder, home grown, home eaten. I'll probably go to school, four years of learning, four years of growing. Then I'll get a job with the government. Good pension, good health care, good dental care. Denchers at 50, the kinda thing people dream about.

There aren't a lot of venues. There aren't a lot of artists that decide to put themselves out there. I've led a very dramatic and public life so far, just so I can get a tombstone with no ending on it. That's what I want.

I want my tombstone to read, Jeff Cook 1991 - ????

It's like I've tried everything. I've put some back bone into every form of expression I can, and it's almost like it doesn't matter. I just haven't found the right way to speak. I play music, I drew things when I was younger, I've written since I could hold a pencil, and I'm even thinking of making a film. This is what I do, I live publically, so that when I die, I can get something on my tombstone. Something real special, that reads like I never actually died. So that all the things I made public are still going to move on when I'm rotting in the ground.

Jeff Cook, 1991 - ????,  May he live on

He live on

He lives on

Something catchy like that. Some people passing by will think that it was a typographical error. The people at the tombstone making factory forgot to ctrl-A backspace key. That kind of thing. The people that knew me, or those that decided to read this will understand a little more clearly. It'll be like my final aspiration. It'll be like the album I never released, the film I never put out, the poem I never got published. But this time, it'll actually work. It'll live on. The one thing that time will take hundreds of years to completely wear away.

Thing about construction work is, you gain a whole new respect for how durable rocks are.

I seem to be spending less and less time on music. I seem to be spending more and more time with shovels. It's the other side of this whole dream of mine. If I want to give up on the reassurance of the put on my tie everyday and go do math in a building, then I may have to spend a lot of time with dirt and shovels. I may have to spend less time with the band I want to be in. I may have to spend less time with the people I love.

Thing about construction work is, you get a lot of face time with gravel.

There's an incredible feeling inside me that I'm meant for something bigger than all of this. Maybe it's because I talk about it so much, or try so damn hard to be the best at something. I thought that maybe if I did just like momma told me, got good grades, went to school, stayed away from hard drugs, I might be able to get my dreams to come true. There's something about that that's flawed. To make my dream come true I'd have to work work work and do less time procrastinating. To work on music, you have to have a band, and a lot of time and a lot of paper and a lot of pens pencils crayons sheet music. This means you need money. As dad said, in order to exist in this life, you need money. To get money, you work construction.

The thing about construction work is, you learn how to beat things mercilessly into the ground in all sorts of ways. You're still going to be the doormat in your next relationship.

I live in the maritimes, and I don't like hockey. I live in the maritimes and I don't particularly enjoy sports. I live in the maritimes and I was never exposed to any sort of art culture until I took it upon myself and met some people who played these things called guitars. Your parents are going to think you want to play sports, are going to think you want to be sydney crosby, are going to think you'll want to be Gretzky. Don't blame them, all the other kids want that, and not a guitar. It's still 1998, and rockband hasn't been released yet.

The thing about meeting life-time construction workers is, you start to realize that there's a balance between having nice things, and having time to appreciate those nice things.

The thing about construction work is, you're the sun's best friend. You wake up with it, you go to bed with it. You're the sun's girlfriend. You cook it breakfast, you great it with your morning cigarette. You spend lunch under it, and you're just a little bit glad when it sneaks away for an afternoon so you can beat off to the idea that you might get off early.

I'm sorry about all of this. I just want to get all of this off my chest. I just want to be famous. Anyway, when you walk by my tombstone now, you'll know why it says what it does!

Walt; the learn'd astronomer

WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer;
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;	5
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars. It's when I see something like this, or hear about something like this, that my firm belief of never being a scientist of some sort really takes it's hold. I confine myself in the safe learnings of whatever whatever so I can maybe some day have a stable income for a family. Something like that. Little fence. Little feet. Painted yard. Painted house. Little house. Little neighborhood. Little dreams. It's like you watch it from afar when you think about these things. It's not something I necessarily want to settle for, but it wouldn't be so bad. Still, I'd like to keep the aspiration of being an active family man at least on the back burner so I have some inkling of believing I'll be a musician some day. I've grinded away at this for years. Honing my talents, spreading my name, keeping up a facade per say so that some day my reach might extend into the echelons of the stars. Fame doesn't even matter at this point. I know it sounds radical, but all I want is a shitty apartment and a band who'll play for me. This is all I want, yet it's too much to ask. I spend hours a day looking for new music to listen to, looking for something new and exciting to worship with my ears. It's the buzzing and the static of new music that frustrates me most. I just want to get out there, I want to hear my own music, plastered across the lobes of youth and old alike. It's all I want to do. My piece will play a part in this. I will not be forgotten that easily. I don't want to be talked about in the past tense anymore. It's all these quotes and phrases that I steal from others that embody exactly how I feel. Here I go whining about the same thing again, two blogs in a row, I'm on a roll. I think it's this city that does it to me. The wasting away music scene. The dying demographic. The wasted talent. The apathy the apathy the apathy. No one gives a fuck anymore. Everyone can feel free to show your support, yet you can't come to the shows anymore. It's too much for you to do to go see a band who doesn't have one of your personal friends in it. It's too too too much, but maybe it's our own greed causing this. Maybe we have to reach out a little bit further. Maybe that's all we have to do to get the ears of the greedy to listen, and relent. Maybe that's what I'll do. I'll start so humble I'm barely alive musically. I'll hand out CDs, won't ask any price at all. Make capital investments. It's all I want, is to be heard. I could care less about the support right now, or the financial out put. Maybe I can just throw my music and people and hope a few of them catch on, a few of them enjoy it just enough to listen again. Anyway, I'm sure I'm burning ears off at this point. BYE

"What are you doing next semester?"...

"I'm taking computer science, with a minor in pure math."

"What are you gonna do with that?"

"Probably try for a double major if I can, go to grad school for my master's in math. They pay good at google and IBM for people like that."

"As long as you're doing something that makes you happy."

"Honestly..."

Sometimes, we just wait for something to come to us. Sometimes we sit and sit and wait. We just make up little excuses, build bridges, take the other way around. I've never been good at taking risks. Sometimes we sit and and we sit and we watch. Sometimes we let other people act out the risks we'd love to take ourselves so that we can become satisfied by association. It's like watching some one fuck the celebrity you've always had a crush on. The primal grunts and thrusts, that would be you, if you had it your way, but you still get off knowing it happened at all. Sometimes we sit and we sit and we wait.

We make up excuses and never do exactly what it is we want to do because there's only the radicalists telling us we should do that. Sometimes I don't bother to spell check, because I like to think it makes me seem more "pure" in my words. Sometimes we sit and we sit and call people stupid. Then they do something, and they mess up and sometimes they sit and they sit but then they get up and try again.

"If I could take that fifty thousand dollars I'm going to invest in university, and put it into touring with a band, I think I would be a lot happier, even if I didn't make it."

"But when you've got your education, you can fall back on something. Let that debt sit there, nothing's going to happen to it."

"But that's not how the natural progression goes. You learn, and you go to school, and then you work for the rest of your life."

"Just get an education."

Sometimes we listen and we listen and we don't hear anything at all. We don't hear the few people telling us to fucking do something. They're screaming in our bleeding ears to do what you love to do, and all we can do is listen to the cut that you were forced from on that day you celebrate every year. They know best best best. They know best best best. Sometimes we sit and we sit and we fucking keel over and die. Eighty years later. This is after you get to work, and contribute to a dying economy, and be proud of what you did while you're sitting in front of your nine hundred inch LCD screen. This is you sitting.

Oh god, the excuses. No one wants to hear my music. I don't have the time. I don't have the money. I don't have the talent. I don't have the connections. I don't have the scene. I don't I don't I don't. I sit and sometimes I sit and I sit and I wait. Nothing is EVER going to come out of me just doing nothing but for some reason that's all I do.

My aspirations are as follows.

-> go to school

-> Work for the rest of my life

This is all I seem to have any motivation to do. And you couldn't even call it that. There's no room in there for dreams. I think I just have to face it. Face the music. Curtain's closing. My dreams would've started and ended if I'd only taken a risk. A risk I should've taken in the youthful momentum provided by graduation.

This is the gratification you get from sitting and sitting and enjoying your favorite bands more than anyone else, because they're famous, and because everyone loves them like you want to.

You work and you work and you go to school and you work and you work and the world keeps turning. This what you do when you grow up. I can now consider myself an adult, because I have come about the realization that dreams don't exist anymore because I can't stop sitting.

Goodnight.

formspring.me

Will do calculus for entertainment: http://formspring.me/g3tmoneyg3tpaid

Little Things

"Please take care of yourself, was the last thing I said, right before the operator made us disconnected"

If I could take one moment, and digest it, fully and completely, it would take away from every emotion that moment was. It's why I over analyze sometimes, it's why I talk too much sometimes, it's why we all think think think before we say something, it makes it so broken down and thought over that there's really no emotion left anymore, and we don't have to feel so different when it's gone.

It's why I pick out the small things. It's why I want to just appreciate everything for exactly what it is.

"I never want some one to become a photograph stapled to a memory."

It's all those little things that make up exactly who a person is, and what something is and where a time starts and exactly where it ends. This isn't over analyzing to get rid of emotion, this is knowing all the small things before you prepare yourself to take it all in again at once, brand new, but so familiar. It's why I love that mole on your neck. I can't really elaborate on this, or give an analogy, but think of a movie you love so much, that you want to share with everyone else. You know all the best lines, all the best parts, all the frames where something so small happens that only you've recognized it. This feels good, to see it again, with more people, because it's so familiar to you, to brand new, and different in so many ways.

This is why we like to know all the words to our favorite songs. This is why I love the way your eyes look when you say certain things.

I can't say I don't miss some things. When I say things for example, all the thoughts get so jumbled that I'll leave something out. You get pure, raw, word. It's all I can say, and it's the only linear progression I can make of the thoughts in my head. This is why sometimes I say things I don't really mean. It comes out in the wrong order, and it comes out sounding like something completely different.

I want to give  body to everything in my life. I little weight to everything that happens, so I'll really remember it. Give something a name that doesn't have a name. I want everything I do, to have a more profound purpose than the outward appearance. Use metaphors instead of analogies. I just want to have everything in brighter color. High definition. Set my corneas to 1080p, continue with my day.

This is why I love the words you use, that I've never had said to me before.

This is why foreign languages are more mysterious to me than anything else I've ever encountered. They could be beautiful, smooth syllables, rolling of the tongue of a gentle soul, but they could mean the most horrible terrible things. They could have the girth and crisp bite of a crashing sea, but the only words spoken could be a semantic hand of gratitude and kindness. You don't get to experience things like that holing yourself up, bleeding into ignorance.

This is why I like to see you out of the corner of my eye, because it's another image of you I can add to the collage.

This is why with the changing day, we as human beings change so much. In the morning you lead your silhouette, pushing yourself forward into the afternoon, when you're completely alone, making the choices to fill out your day or simply look back and wait. This is why at night your shadow follows you, and reminds you exactly how you've lived your day. Haunting or praising you for everything that's happened in the last hours of your life.

This is why I sometimes wonder if you've ever been talked about this way before.

When some one loses all the little things, they become an object. A stamp that you place on every experience you have with them, so you can mail it into the past. No return address. It makes them into the orchid on a burning coffin, cast into the effervescing mist of an ocean. It burns a single shade of waving orange, until finally it ends. This is what people become when they become objects in this way. You have to pick the small things out, watch people's eyes, or you'll miss it, all of it the next day.

This is why I wish I looked at myself. Picked out the little things with me. Picked out all the excuses I use to keep myself standing still. Out there, somewhere, in the dark, is my dream of being a musician. An author. A poet. A politician. but I keep holding myself still, with the dramatic edge of my life. The little paring knife that I keep twirling around in front of me. It's the idle threat that taking a step forward might leave me without a toe. I read something tonight, that spoke of a disaster, marking the end of our metaphysical youth. We're always sitting, waiting, and not moving forward. Preparing ourself for that disaster that'll stop us from ever moving forward at all. Maybe it'll be a relief.

This is why I remember the words you say.

This is why I remember the words I say.

This is why it's so hard to sometimes come back and try again. Try to take that dive again. Because we'll always remember the little things. We all just need some one to cover that canvas again, to record that tape, and to playback something original. Something you spend so much time picking apart, only to relive again. Brand new.

Did you know?

"When I was spat onto the earth in a stream of guts, by mother nature, that green eyed slut,"

It's crazy to think how far we've come as a people. As an entire race of human beings. If we could track back to the earliest traces of DNA when no one could look at the sun without sneezing (it was mother nature's way of scolding us for burning our corneas out of our skulls) we'd see just how far we've come. Besides or resources falling out from under us, and Einstein being proven more and more wrong with each scientific advancement, we've actually turned ourselves into a very informed and cyclical society. One big society, where the executive throw missiles at each other over the board table that is the Atlantic Ocean.

Even though Newton figured out exactly how everything falls, how fast the earth pulls us back into it's core, he could've never assumed that people would be wiring their cars and speeding towards a solid brick wall.

If a suicide bomber drives east toward a small Palestinian trade shop going 50km/hr with a constant acceleration of 3.0m/s, and he has 15 meters to cover before contact, how many years will it take for the religious conflict to resolve itself?

Newton may have been incredibly intellegent, as a matter of fact, he's probably the only person that truly understood the ENTIRE physical world we live it, but he could never have created a constant, or an integration technique to hold up the failing morals of mankind. We're in a horrible downward spiral, yet at the same time, all the money works out, and no one gets hurt over here if we all behave and act like good little consumers.

Find the area bounded between the curve y = 3(lnx)^2/x and y + x = 36, from conception to the point of moral degradation.

I wish I could make more sense of all of it, but it seems like the more math and science I read about, and the more I learn about our economy, the less faith I have in us ever pulling our heads out of our asses and churning some compassion out. It takes roughly 19 years for global savings and global spending to cancel each other and bring the world economy back to equilibrium, negating inflation or recession. So long as we're well behaved little consumers.

If Johnny is walking east at 2.0m/s and Jessica is walking north at 1.8m/s, at what rate is their friendship  going from being close confidants to awkward acquaintances? Part b, solve for the rate at which the distance is increasing. Compare the ratio, have an epiphany, call your mother and tell her you love her.

It's not that I'm unhappy with my current state of life. I'm doing really well for myself, and I like that, so I bitch about the quality of life in other places in the world. Why be upset about my life when I can be upset about some one else's and make everyone else aware of it. If you massage the upper region of the heel's plantar, you can put some one into the throes of a seismic orgasm. 6 on the Richter. Who gives a fuck about potable water in Africa.

If Peter raises his fist to beat his girlfriend (Jenny), and his fist and forearm collectively weigh __kg, and a moment of 15N*m/s is applied to the joint at the base of his elbow, how long will it take Jenny's parents to discover the bruises on their daughter?

Sometimes I listen to this song, it's by The Sound of Animals Fighting, and it says, "I would write beautiful songs about horrible things." and I feel like that's how I am right now.

"No there's no light in the darkest of your furthest reaches"

I just want to reach out, and disturb some one with my lyrics right now. I think I'll take that to the table when I start writing for the summer. I'll write something ironic, but within a metaphor, it's chilling.

Here it goes again

The hints were true and the letters fit. It wasn't a catastrophe to ask the question. Who knows, maybe this is too soon, a lot of people will tell you that and you'll have to stand up for yourself again but that's all okay. You're young, and you want to explore all of this golden heart. There's just so much to know, so many questions, and so many answers. You've got the same background of doormats and leashes, so you know that it's not going to be the same. You hope it won't be the same.

Could this be right? It's going to be four months apart right from the beginning and you have no idea why but you're more ready for that than you've ever been. It's going to be like that little suspension period, where the smallest things will be so important. You could talk every night, and you plan to, it's natural for you. There won't be any dates, and there won't be any real personal intimate stares. It'll be hard, but that's alright, this is all worth it. You've managed to figure that much out already. K.G.'s behind you as far as you know, and that means more than any other words could.

Being home is going to be different this time. In your eyes Saint John is going to be music and shows and adventure. It's not going to be the constant pursuit of social acceptance, it's going to be a pursuit of micro-fame and slight wealth. Your band is more important to you right now than anything else in your life. If only you could get it off the ground. You're good, you're good enough to get a long long way with a little tenacity. You know this because of some of the bands you saw play this year. They're just kids with a dream, and they're seeking it out the way that you've wanted to your entire life.

How would everything turn out? If you just dropped this education and played in that band that you're going to dedicate the next five months of your life to. That's half a year, that's enough time to do so many things. Some blessing would be so good, some dedication from everyone else would be wonderful. This is going to be good.

I'm sorry I've been so brief lately, but these are my thoughts of the day.

No matter how far

Sitting in English class, learning about MLA, learning about syntax that no longer interests you. You left all that behind when you read fight club. You like Paliniuk format much better. Jump around. Tell a story. Be a narrator. It was something in a clockwork orange that you liked about Alex too, he talked to you, and you liked him very much.

"Amen and all that cal."

And then Alex was gone.

It's alright to think of things like this when you're pondering syntax, but there are much more pressing matters at hand, pressing matters that you'd like a little bit of advice on. It may be a little bit vague.

See there's some one, and you don't know if it's right. See there's some one, and you're not sure if it's all there for the right reasons, or if it's all even there and tangible at all. This is what you wish you knew. Do you act on impulse and try to figure out the situation all by yourself, or do you poke little questions, and try to see if you're right at all? It would be so wrong, it would be a catastrophe if you were wrong, and you poked little questions. But if you were right, what if you were right? What may come would still be delayed, so very very delayed, but at this point you know what a wait is and more often than not a wait has put you in a very very lonely place. That's usually a different kind of wait though, let's start over.

You're a rationalist. Cup's not half empty, cup's not half full, the cup's the wrong size for the water inside of it. You read that on a shirt once, and decided it was quite fitting for the way you think. The world is changeable, and it's changeable at your finger tips. So what do you do? There are words everywhere, but there's meaning sitting at the bottom of some well somewhere twinkling up at a sky you may never be under. In part, if you're wrong, that's okay, it can be fixed, and everything can go back to being just the way it was. You both understand exactly what would happen, and neither of you know if that can happen at all.

Nothing can happen, as a matter of fact.

This is all mishmash, but god knows. We'll pick this up some other time.

He's relied on this for years

I've never considered myself to be an overly spiritual person. I don't go to church every sunday, I don't kneel down in front of my bed every night to throw my words up to my patron deity, but for some reason I expect some form of protection and respect from whatever it is lingering around up there. I'm sheltered, and I'm not ashamed to say that. My life's been coated in luck and facility.

I've never given any body to my luck, it's just sort of been there. I could throw myself into traffic with all the confidence in the world, and I could fill my body with toxins and not expect the smallest set back. Maybe this is the invincible youth that I think I have. I'm walking a tightrope and hoping that I don't some day fall off. Do you brace yourself for those things? Do you consider the consequences to your actions? Or is it more your own selfish way of living that lets you just get by being content with your present state.

I try to give things up to people. My ear, or my shoulder, or my words. I figure that might be my way of giving back to God. I know this probably sounds really weird to all of you, that I'm suddenly spitting words about Christianity, but I take so much for granted. Some day, I'll be at the bottom of the barrel, no where to go but up, and the first place I'll turn is to those subconscious thoughts of an invisible savior. Maybe that's why I believe, because I see people who have nothing left crawling on their knees and asking for forgiveness. It's almost like, they believe in Him because there's nothing else left to believe in.

It gives me reason enough to throw up my own hands. I feel I've been blessed with something. Blessed with a lot of things. I'm a fatalist, and I'm a rationalist, and I'm a scientist, but I don't know why that has to stop me believing that there's some pinky finger of a God up there jostling fate in one direction or the other. When Rutherford shot an atom at a piece of gold foil, he observed alpha particles reflected on a photo luminescent sheet. Some of the alpha particles hit the sheet infront of the gold foil, light propelled backward. This was the experiment that gave birth to some of the radical multi-verse theories that exist today. There are infinite possibilities to each given decision, and each of those possibilities give birth to another parallel universe. How could something so incredible, so perfect have ever happened, if there wasn't something pulling strings out there.

I watched Edward Norton's Leaves of Grass a couple of days ago. He talked about God in the way mathematicians talk about parallel lines. In theory, two parallel lines will continue on infinitely without ever coming into contact with each other. This is something man could never see, or create himself. A true natural parallel will never exist, yet we base our numbers and our theories off the basis that it is there, and that it is perfectly possible.

Maybe it's because the sun didn't come out today, or maybe it's because I have a lot to do and no idea when I'll find the chance to do it because of my other obligations. Maybe that's why I feel religious today.

There are people in the world...

It's incredible the people you meet.

You have no idea how it'll happen, because most times charisma acts sporadically, and they just appear. It's those first few seconds, and the first few words out of your mouth that really snag them, and this is how you make friends. You can watch it happen, watch the silent approval in some one's eyes light up in that first phrase. Sure you could've seen them before, could've made a point of talking to them, but until that little glimmer, you're never could know.

These last couple of weeks, they've been full of light. The weathers been shit, and you've been rained on out right, but the people didn't change. In spite of the downpour it was warm inside, and word were still words and eyes were still eyes. It's incredible the people you meet. You're still not quite over that initial acceptance you get. It's not every day that you get a genuine feeling out of some on right off the get go. Sure you can be friends, but there are so few that'll reach out and let you in like you're fully prepared to do for them. It's always comforting to know.

They say alcohol's a catalyst for social interaction, and that's true, but when is it ever the name or the face that you keep. It's only the experience until you can look that person in the face and start to say "I know you". My dearest, most beloved friend K.G. told me about these people. The ones that you can let in. They're all around, and they're really sturdy when you first see them, not physically with big broad shoulders and a glaring smile, but where it counts. You know what I mean, they got that smile, they're just more emotionally sturdy. Almost inspires you to jump off you're over analytical rocking horse and stand on the ground with them. Almost.

You're leaving in a month and it's a lot of regret on your mind. How many faces you should've seen, how many things you should've done. In retrospect it's okay, you'll be back again someday five months from now. Five months and half a year, who knows who you'll know then. Your mind'll warp itself and you'll grind your teeth into the flat maw of a pacifist or turn them to fangs. Dig in. It's almost half a year, but it still comforts you know how much time you still have left before you get to get in there and find out the nitty gritty about some things. It's times like these where all those little niggling facts are like the paint brush to your paper. It's just canvas looking for change.

The music sounds good too, lately, it's pouring out of you and it's coming up with ease. Something about today was nice, because you threw your body at the board and then strummed the strings that made a chord. It was all passionate and it all rung out quite singingly. Tomorrow might be the same, the conversations'll keep coming, and you'll throw your body, and you'll sing a song again. Tomorrow might be much the same, but not quite today.

Goodnight, there are things to be done.

"Alright you primitive screwheads...

...Listen up, see this, THIS is my boomstick"

Alright, it's over, all of this drama is over. I'm done being a passivist, deleting myself from the internet, trying to hide from everything, that's not going to solve the problem. I'm owning up to all you small ignorant people. You have to take the time to sit there and make your sad boring lives interesting by sticking your nose into mine. Well bring it on.

Your dramatization of whats actually happened is getting on my nerves, and I want you to say all you have to say. At the end of the day I still know I'm fine as a person. I fucked up, fine, hit me for it, harass me for it, I won't hide, I won't back down, I'll stand and fight your depressing shit hole lives all I have to. I want you to give me all you've got, because you're never going to win. You've got this war to fight with me, so fight it, and fight it hard.

"You'll wait for me outside it a hole in the ground, well that's one way thinking you might get the upper hand"

Delete my facebook, delete my twitter, no, fuck that, and to every single one of you tired, useless people, fuck you too. I'm going to keep going like all of this isn't even happening after today. You're a tiny, insignificant part of this world, and there's no way that what you're doing right now is going to make you remembered. In the end, my piece will play a part of this and I'm not going to let you change that.

"I will come with arms."

Please, please, stick your nose out and let it meet my hand so I can make sure you stay out of my life. This is what I want to do, and this is who I am.

"At the end of the day, if you can look at yourself in the mirror and say 'I'm a good person' that's all you should need,"

God, I can't believe I could stoop to your level for even a second to consider running. Well I'm not running, please, PLEASE, try to hurt, so your words can fuel my anger, and push me over the this plateau, I will always come out on top because I understand what it takes in life to get to where I have to go. When you're laying on your death bed all you'll be able to remember of me was your futile attempt to try to make my life worse. I still have plenty of people who are my friends, and I still have plenty of people who would stick their neck out for me and fight the good fight. I've got my family too, and chances are they'll be fucking proud of what I'm about to say.

"Well they size my fit, for a puzzle I wish not to play part in."

Shall I go on? Shall I show you exactly what you are? Shall I throw the mirror to your face and show you the monster you're making yourself by trying to throw that mask on me? Keep them coming people, throw your venomous words at me and try to make me crumble. Never again. Never again will I let my passive mind over come me and let you step on my toes. This is my turn to throw my words at you. Form your militia, and bring your weapons of bullshit and blasphemy and try to knock me down.

I've accomplished so much in my life already, I've done so many things that none of you hate filled people will ever have the opportunity to do. I have the memories and the past success to push me to the pinnacle of a life that I should have.

That's all I have to say for now, I'll see you all on that social networking site facebook that you all see as your podium to try to ravage the lives of other people while you rot in your own self pity and fucking terrible lives.

Sincerely
-Jeff (The lying motherfucker) Cook

One Day

Well, I'm gonna leave this up for a day to let every one know I'm deleting my blog too. Also, to everyone who hid behind the anon. label, it's quite alright, I know how brave the internet can make everyone. To anyone who actually enjoys reading anything I write, it's been fun, and thank you, but I guess this is what I have to do.

latah

Dear god

"Wake up, wake the sun"

I guess this is going to be kind of a trial thing. I considered completely removing myself from the internet, and losing every public part of my life, because it just shows more gaps in my ribs for a knife to slip into. I honestly don't know why I have any problem with being harassed though. I've been harassed before, behind my back and personally, and I feel like I don't even have to brace myself for it this time. I know who I am, and I know what kind of person I am. Sticks and stones ladies and gentlemen.

I'm waiting for the idle physical threats. I want some one to threaten to beat the shit out of me. I want the cowardice to come down that. I want the mobs to flock around me and beat me senseless so I can actually feel how much hate they have for me. It'll feel wonderful. Bludgeoned and black, bleeding and bruised, I'll feel some kind of hatred just pulsing through me. Oh god how I crave that adrenaline. It won't happen though, and I can laugh to myself knowing it won't happen.

"The morning tilts, over the hills, and floods the world"

I think I'm going to wake up tomorrow, and still feel fine about myself. I think I'm going to wake up the day after that and care even less about what anyone from my home town thinks of me. I'm almost positive a lot of people really don't like me around there anymore. That's alright, I've got family, and like momma always said, they're the most important people in my life.

Blah blah blah I dread going back to that city now. It's not like I'll run from my problems, like I said, I don't mind the harassment. If all the friends I had in high school hate me now, which I'm assuming the majority of them do, I guess I'll have to look the other way. It doesn't hurt me that bad, if they don't want me around, I guess I'm not welcome around.

I'm in enough trouble man

This post is no longer relevant

Good Morning Sunshine

"You're so cute."

There's some things I just love to wake up to, this being one of them. I think I take it for granted sometimes y'know? Being able to fall asleep with her every night, and wake up right were I passed out. It's nice, and I'm hoping it keeps on keeping on.

When I left this morning, I found out that some one had gone and tramped down a path in the snow where I usually walk. I stumbled through it the night before around 10:00pm, but now, at nine in the morning enough people had already passed by that it was well worked and easy to traverse. It  makes you wonder, how the world works when you're not around. It reminds you sometimes that everything sort of keeps going while you're asleep at night, it's not about to wait for you.

It reminds you that your body does too, your body keeps on ticking, and digesting and building fat cells, and thinking about things. It's just strange that you're so unconscious to it all. This would be the kind of thing that I'd lose sleep over. Trying to figure out exactly what's going on while I'm in bed. Maybe if I'm really lucky I'll develop my own kind of Tyler Durden. I think that would be quite nice. I suppose it would make me kill a lot of people and cause calamities and all that fun stuff, but I mean, it could be fun right?

Anyway, this morning I got to my residence, and the TV was scattered with the remains of another night. This is where I usually find my solace in the morning. I'll turn on the family channel and eat some frootloops right out of the box. It's quite cozy, sort of like having saturday morning cartoons every morning. I'd sit there in my clothes from yesterday and sort of wait for the day to begin. When you don't often have class before 11, this can be quite the daunting wait. I end up haunting twitter most of the time, trying to get my favorite celebrities to recognize me.

Also, I'd like to talk about my music. I've written three songs thus far, at least in their lyrics, and I've got one guitar melody worked out. I'm trying to come up with rhythms now, and decide on the incorporation of bass and drums. I wasn't sure if I could make an album just acoustic or not, but by listening to Dashboard Confessional's acoustic release, and Mancherster Orchestra's work, I think I may actually be able to pull it off. To me though, it'll be a lot harder to make, and make sound good and original, than a CD where I can temper the drums and bass aswell.

Here we go folks.

Time to learn about vectors.

YOU SIR!

I want to say, first and foremost, that I have an unhealthy obsession with Sweeney Todd.

There could be thousands of things to say about it, and I'm sure given enough time I could elaborate on each and every one of them, but most of all, I love the music. I love the morbid and romantic lyrics. I love the way they're song. I could go on and on and on about how much I love the dramatic irony of the story. It's so Shakespeare, it's so tragic, and I love all of it.

Sondheim has to be the greatest composer of all time, as well. He has the ability to weave something completely dissonant and vulgar into a melodic major. You can hear the haunting melody of some misled flute twittering around in the background of almost every song. It shouldn't fit, it doesn't fit properly as far as music's concerned, but the way he worked with it, it sounded beautiful. I tried to arrange a bit of epiphany so my high school metal band could play, ages ago, and I must say, it's something that I couldn't accomplish. The complexities of the melodies elude me. I just can't put my finger on the individual instruments, let alone arrange them for a single guitar to play.

God I love Sweeney Todd.

Please girl stay

Sitting in english class has to be one of the strangest experiences of my life. It's like looking at something I could've easily become with my past ambitions. I wanted to be an author, and I still want to be a musician. This man, FM, is reaching his middle age, still playing in the band, and is now an English Professor. Could I see myself like that? Or would I always just strive to do something that had a nicer ring to it?

I would love to be an author, or a freelance writer, living in a studio apartment and writing under a lamp all day. I'm talking about the grungy, one room with a mattress and a mini fridge sort of place. Throw in some bad hygiene and cabin fever.

Stir and Simmer

I wish I was just a man. JUST a man. That my name carried no weight to anyone, and no ambition was required of me at all. This would include making myself completely isolated, I realize, but how great would it feel to KNOW exactly what it is you want to do? Y'know, sit in a room with yourself and shell out all the possibilities and then choose the one that suits you best.

See, if I could be in a band. Just one band, playing music, rehearsing, recording, and writings, I would never be happier. I'd live in my shitty apartment with my acoustic guitar and write songs until four in the morning every night until I could get there, that's exactly what I'd do if I could really choose my ambition. Throw in some tenacity and a pinch of poverty for inspiration.

Shelter and ignore for ten minutes

I don't want to be an economist, I don't want to be an engineer, I don't want to be a teacher. I want to realize my dreams and stop pretending that there's something else out there for me. Dad says I have to do exactly what I want to do so I don't kick myself in the ass going to work everyday. There's no way to get there in this direction.

I just want to play music.

I just want to be a musician,

Blah Blah Blah

I've become obsessed with making money from this blog. It really DOES feel like I'm selling out. I don't really have a niche to write about besides music, and no one really wants to READ about music, rather than actually LISTEN to music, so I'm just going to consciously decide to leave the traffic alone for awhile and try to just BLOG. Just write exactly what I'm thinking like I used to, and a couple times of day like I used to.

Today I feel like telling all of you about my wonderful math professor.

He makes analogies that never really make any sense at all until he relates them to integral calculus. For example, in the fundamental theorem of calculus (PART II! As Mr. Dalling would put it) he refers to the d of d/dx as a knife, weilded by your mother who is about to kill you. This is because the d successfully breaks up some equations appropriately to make them differentiable. Then, he calls the integral your grandfather, who tells your mother to stop, and offers you candy.

Confusion ensues.

Basically, they cancel each other out. Grandpa has nothing to do with area under the curve. I think that's what his hook is, trying to make the first little bit of it seem just like Calculus 1000, and have nothing to do with graphs or curves. When I took it in high school, that's ALL it was about. The AP program was great, and it made me quite ready for differential calculus, but this new wonky way to look at the integral is harshing my mellow.

But back to my math prof, whom is quite lovely, and entertaining.

In explaining why there is an integration constant, he described the "d" first, cutting of the tip of britney spears' nose. This led to much confusion, as the integral could very well put the tip of her nose back on, but it was quite sure where to put it. Britney Spears, because, "deformed Britney Spears". It order to put it back on in the right place, we use our integration constant or C value, as some sort of direction as to where this slice of nose is supposed to go.

Next we looked at "U" substitution.

"We do not want to see this function." Says the prof.

"So we do like kangaroo, and we stick our head in the sand"

"U" substitutions are now to be referred to as kangaroos.

I'll inform you that my math professor is incredibly japanese, and speaks with a very thick and humorous accent, so all of this is in fact, quite funny to hear.

Finally, he tells us why it is okay to take a scalar multiple out of the integral. The scalar multiple he says, is a Shit Disturber, and must be removed, just as a Shit Disturber is to be removed from the a party within which he is disturbing shit.

All multiplication constants are hereby referred to in all contexts as "Shit Disturbers"

I must say I'm thrilled about having a professor who doesn't take math so seriously. I understand that it's an exact science, and that it's very difficult, but if you don't take it lightly it can get incredibly dull and seem much more like a study subject than a sort of puzzling theory challenge.

Well, that's all folks.

Good night!

p.s. - I receive over 50% of my traffic from people who think I have a torrent of Year of The Black Rainbow for download.

a) I don't, it hasn't leaked yet.

b) It's going to be shitty, stop clicking my links.

Musically Inclined

Newfoundland's doing something that I didn't think could happen. They're challenging people all across the province to try to create an entire album within the month of february.

OPPURTUNITY!

It's sort of the motivation I've been trying to find to actually start writing music again. The challenge is writing and recording an entire album in 28 days, it has to be fourteen songs long. If you do the math, that leaves about two days per song. A challenge if I ever did hear one, however I've teamed up with an incredible musician and I think this can go really smoothly if I pick up my pen and paper and start churning out ideas like I used to.

Guitar Pro, here I come!! (I'll be posting some of the general ideas that I write in guitar pro on here so that you guys can check them out and give me some input. Download link for the program will be at the bottom of the post!)

Alright, so it's going to be tough, but with encouragement I think it's going to go really well.

Other big news. I decided that my song Echoes (downloadable in the sidebar aswell!) is probably my best work (aside from my panda farm work) and because of this, I think I'm going to try to start writing some more really mellow ambient sort of stuff. The kind of thing one might see in a movie somewhere. If there are any indie film writers out there who need a sountrack written, e-mail me a script and I'll get to work! FOR FREE! :)

I'm not sure how well I'll do at it, but after some practice and criticism I'm sure I'll improve enough and maybe some day find myself in the position of bands like Explosions in the Sky or Daniel Lanois, y'know the generic sort of soundtracky bands. If ANYONE has any ideas for me, please comment and let me know, I'd love to here.

I'll be putting my CD reviews on hold, and production of my own solo stuff until the competition's over some time in march, and I'm sure it'll be worth it.

I'm off.

Cheers.

Guitar Pro 5.2 - download torrent here!

p.s. - If you don't know how to use torrents yet, I wrote a tutorial on it here.

Home

I can't help but feel like this place is becoming less and less like my home. It's almost as if the more nights I spend away from here, the more it's becoming a living space for other people. I would sleep in my bed, but there would certainly still be people in here when I feel tired. I'm afraid of my homework starting to pile up, because I won't even be able to come in here and find solace like I used to be able to. It's not really mine here any more, and maybe I have myself to blame, but at the same time I'd like to think people should just respect me anyway. I know I didn't have much respect before, but I thought because I'd started standing up for myself it would come a little bit more easily. I know I was wrong in thinking that.

These people are the taking advantage type. They don't really consider what I may feel about it. They probably just try to blame it on her, but it's not that at all. I want to be with her when I'm with her. If you're reading this, if you can see that, stop saying she's changing me, because I'm doing all of this because I want to, and because it's better for me than being here. If you think I'd be better off staying up all night and ignoring school, and forgetting what some kind of peaceful alone time is, you're wrong. I liked what my life was when I was really home. This room has become some kind of distorted public living space for anyone who cares to come in. I have things in here I'd rather not have traipsed on by anyone who chooses. It's not that I don't trust the people in here, I just don't think they'd respect it the way I'd want them to.

Could I go back to how it was when I wasn't with her? Would I want to? Go back to grinding my head into books and only playing video games and watching movies to relieve myself? No, not a chance. There's so much more to this city to relieve me, and to take the sloth from my blood. To make me into a productive person again. Just recently I've been writing almost two blogs a day, and all because my productivity's coming back to me. I'm not held down or held back or worried about my actions anymore. It's sad that I would be judged for everything I did back then. I had to conform because that's what being in a clique is all about. I don't want that.

I wouldn't say I'm upset that I can't just sit in here anymore. This is the first time I've been alone in this room, or actually able to sit in this room without ten others around me. It's nice yes, but it's sort of a temporary solace. I know I sound like I'm complaining about this a lot, but truthfully, everything else in my life is going quite swimmingly.

That's all I'd like to say about that.

- Jeff

p.s. - This blog is receiving considerably more traffic than my CD review blog, and I'm glad some people are more interested in just hearing about my life.

New Game

There comes a time where you have to get into a new style, get into a new game. This is what we're all trying to do every day of our lives. Upgrade upgrade upgrade. We walk around in our small entourages and hope to some day be leading it if only for a minute or two because we've taken on a new style, a new game.

You face judgement too though, and I'm learning not to be afraid of that. I used to hate it when anyone would think anything of me other than what I intended them to think, but now I understand what this is. I see this as my own fault for not letting me become, well me. I mold myself into something that everyone likes. This causes me to become a pushover, causes very few people to appreciate me for what I am causes me to be a very lonely person sometimes. But this is okay, because it's better to have one friend who appreciates you than several who talk about you behind your back and say very mean things about your character when you're not looking. Thus is the reason as to why I'm fully ready to start new and start fresh and start to make some changes.

CHANGE 1

No more being aware of people making shit up about me behind my back and staying silent. I'm about to speak up, and speak up in an angry and justified voice.

CHANGE 2

This is my space too, and I'm tired of having it violated without my permission. Everything will be locked and stowed until I say otherwise.

CHANGE 3

I probably won't even sleep here anymore, I'd rather be with her every night, because she listens, and she doesn't make fun of me when I'm not around, and she doesn't think terrible things about my character. If I come home and some one is in my bed sleeping without my permission, they will have a brief moment of reckoning and find themselves on the much less comfortable floor.

CHANGE 4

I'm going to stop just writing these things on the internet and take action on them for once in my fluffy life. I'm sick, and I'm tired, and I just want to be home at this point, because that's where Fisher is.

If your nickname refers to a tasty pastry, this doesn't apply to you, you may think it does, because you spend a lot of time with the people who were saying a lot of the things that bothered me. You've been quite the good friend lately, and so has your roommate. I'm sorry if you took offence to any of this.

Discovery

In which we talk about ourselves, and our resolutions.

This is the time for us to begin talking of how we wish to be on the turn of the next New Year.

I'm in university, so naturally I'm incredibly broke. I'm trying to start a budget, but who knows if my feigning willpower will ever allow me to stick to this. This could be for several reasons. The main one would be dependencies. I'm dependent on FAR too many chemicals for me to be financially fit. These dependencies are not solely chemical, as much of it is on account of social pressures. You may have heard the words many times "University is an excuse to be an alcoholic."

It couldn't be more true.

I feel that if I can strip myself from those needs and wants that I may actually be able to waste my capital on something that matters to me, something that is withstanding, and something that will allow me to enjoy more than just a night of disillusion and lost inhibitions. I'm referring now to that drunken pseudo-euphoria. If I could strip myself of my want for that, I could spend my life in such a more efficient manner. This is not saying that I want to stop drinking entirely though, because given the proper social opportunity and atmosphere it would be quite profitable, at least, metaphysically.

This brings me to my resolution. I am going to will myself to spend only 30$ a week whilst here at university. My meals and lodging are well paid for, so this shouldn't be too difficult as without alcohol my expenses are few and easily met. This goal is only 20$ less that my previous goal, which is a realizable goal, and therefore much easier to obtain. I've learned through my many endeavors into challenged willpower that this is the easiest way to succeed in conquering a challenge. So, that is how my money will be spent, $30 per 7 days in my week.

On a different note, I've felt my musical self changing. I've stopped looking for masturbatory guitar and drums, and started looking for something that makes me feel satisfied. I used to believe that it took considerable skill to create the songs I used to listen to, with their eight minute guitar solos and soaring vocal harmonies, however, this is only one form of musical talent. To be able to take someone to a completely different realm with your music, to relax them and make them feel as though they could simply slip into a walking dream, is also something that requires very much talent.

This is where I found the Arcade Fire and Bloc Party (See download links for their CDs that I enjoy at the bottom of the page). As much as I believe that MTV's top ten albums of the decade exclude many genres, I find these two albums to be quite lovely. They've brought me to an entirely new level of appreciation, and they've made quite the splendid impact of my musical diversity.

To be fair, I have one last resolution, but it's a repeating theme. I want to lose weight, and actually keep it off. Something I was really proud of was getting down to a healthy weight and maintaining it for almost a year. My heavy course load and financial falters have led to me not having the time or money to going to a good gym. These are excuses, I realize, and the beer probably didn't help, but I'm ready to actually try this semester.

Lastly, I want to let you all know that I'm going to start writing little tidbits of advice for keeping your health and creativity while you hit university for the first time, or if you're struggling while you're here. Of course, I have to compile the advice and apply/test it to my own lifestyle, just to make sure you won't be led astray by words. When it does arrive, however, it will be beneficial to anyone finding they just don't have the time.

That'll be all

-Jeff

Bloc Party - Silent Alarm

The Arcade Fire - Funeral

TIME MACHINE

Omg, can you imagine a time machine blender?!

Helicopter

Here's to all the people who flew home after their Christmas break.

We were all visited by our Santa God, and we all got our special gifts. At least, to the ignorant who assume that Christmas isn't a lonely time of year for some people, Santa God arrived through everyone's chimneys and delivered new love for old parents.

This is good, and this is fine.

There are a lot of things people think while they're boarding an airplane. Forgive me for being fight club-esque as, that is not nearly my intention. Things just strike you in that moment, while you look out the window and watch the world slowly shrink below you. The waters and trees and seas of water recede slowly out of sight, and you suddenly feel a lot bigger than you were moments before. You feel like you're bigger and it feels nice to be able to sit back and watch the world spin slowly below you, though you're actually moving much faster than you would be driving even a race car.

This is when you pass through the clouds. As a novice, you get that small panic as you pass through the clouds and all goes dark and sad. You brace for turbulence that never comes. This is when you break through, this is when you become transcendence. You're above the clouds that look all fluffy and jump-on-able. This is when you imagine you are now flying across the tundra in a giant piece of metal. This is when you think of that commercial on the discovery channel for licence to drill. This is when you turn up your Envy on the Coast so you can't quite hear the engine quite so much.

You could be blissful, because you like to travel (and traveling is laid back free time). Or you could enjoy the travel because you are moving, and you believe in movement change and second chances. It could feel good because you're going to your other other home. It's called home because of the way it looks, the way that you feel when you walk in and everything isn't strange and new. The feeling that you're sort of welcome, and that people sort of want you there. This is what home is and it feels sort of nice to know you're going back.

If you've stopped to wonder at this point whether it should feel nice and comfy where you're going, you were quickly distracted by something else, and it didn't matter much. Thing is, you can't let yourself think about what you feel like deep deep down. Sure you think lots. You think all the time and you think more than you should. But it's not deep deep down, because deep deep down is where you get hurt by what people say and do behind your back, and in front of your back, assumed that your back ends somewhere on the front of your body, and being in front of it, would mean facing you.

I suppose that's enough rambling.

Night!