Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Jet Black New Year.

Yesterday was quite an adventure, I've never spent so much time in a thrift store. I was definitely out of my element, but it was interesting watching some seasoned pros show us how it's done. Hurray for new friends and old faces. Side-ways vaginas are the order of the day, just saying. Here's to "not knowing what to do with it", and of course, to Chuck Bass.

Concordia is all sorts of fail. My schedule for this semester is god-awful and I still haven't gotten my grades for this past semester.


2008 is officially being cast off, like the proverbial dirt off our shoulders and I have to say, it feels kind of good.

Apart from a few notable moments, which really were far between, this year has been incredibly bland. Dull, even. I mean, when I think back on 2007 and the insanity leading into it, the long list of things that occurred in that time-frame and more importantly, the crash-and-burn style it went out, I can't help but feel disappointed.

Here's hoping that 2009 is more memorable.

To all of you reading this, a very happy New Year!

New beginnings folks, not revivals. Better to create something new than to bring back what once was. I hope all your nights are spent with those you care about, in the best sorts of stupors.

See you all in '09.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Distant Promise.

Right, so, I'm still alive. At least, I think I might be. Whatever passes for living these days, I suppose. My apologies for the long absence. In truth, I meant to write several times during the last bit, but never could find anything worth saying. I still don't have anything, but I'll make due some how, I suppose.

Christmas is behind us, thankfully. Now there is a holiday I could do without. Mine was spent in the cold comfort of an empty house, save for a few hours where my cousins came over. She's only three years older than I am, but already married and well into her career as a pediatrician. Go figure! Normally, hearing of her success would unsettle me slightly, as I'm sure my future is not nearly as certain as hers seems to be, but lately? I've take some strange comfort in not knowing where the road I'm on will take me. It seems like all the adventure and wonder in life is slowly fading away. There are no great mysteries, no unexplored continents, no savage, secret tribes of man to bring us back in touch with that primitive, instinctual animal we once were. So, I'm not going to sit here and wonder if my life will be significant anymore, or if I will find some way to leave my mark. After all, in the end, there is only the journey for me. End results have become too fashionable, I want none of it. If this is the only adventure left to us, better that I don't see where it all is headed!

New Years Eve is coming up! Ha, do I have plans yet? We'll see. That's not important. 2009 is going to be the start of something grand, you'll see. I normally never make resolutions for myself, a promise is a terrible thing to break after all, but this is a time for fresh starts and I need to hold myself to this. So, that said, my resolution for 2009 is simply to live. Vague, I know, but I find that we all get too bogged down in the daily routines of our lives to ever really do anything worthwhile. It's great that we're working towards something, but I want more. I need more. 2009 is going to be less dreary, less repetitive. I think some of you will understand better than others when I say the past is done and it's time to stop dwelling on it, trying to hold onto ghosts and memories, wishful thinking and what ifs. I'm putting that away.

I've been thinking a lot of the ocean lately. Actually, I think a lot of us have, at least people that I've been speaking to. I lay down and sometimes, I can even hear the waves crash, feel the tide pulling at my limbs to drag me out to sea. I haven't been outside Montreal in far too long, that needs to change.

Have any of you ever heard a song that brought you to your knees? A melody that gave you goosebumps, or made the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stand still? Has there ever been a tune that moved you to tears, or even simply moved you at all? I'd love to hear about it.

I've found a few of the songs that do it for me, ironically these are all from video games, but the music is brilliantly composed on it's own and I'd like to share it with anyone reading this. This first one in particular overwhelmed me when I first heard it, to the point that I was rendered speechless and could't stop shaking. I can't find a version that has the whole version intact, so I'll link them separately.



part 2:




This second piece is the embodiment of the spirit of all I've tried to write here, tonight.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Dancing in the Dark.









I get up in the evening
and I ain't got nothing to say
I come home in the morning
I go to bed feeling the same way
I ain't nothing but tired
Man I'm just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help

You can't start a fire
You can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire
even if we're just dancing in the dark

Message keeps getting clearer
radio's on and I'm moving 'round the place
I check my look in the mirror
I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face
Man I ain't getting nowhere
I'm just living in a dump like this
There's something happening somewhere
baby I just know that there is

You can't start a fire
you can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire
even if we're just dancing in the dark

You sit around getting older
there's a joke here somewhere and it's on me
I'll shake this world off my shoulders
come on baby this laugh's on me

Stay on the streets of this town
and they'll be carving you up alright
They say you gotta stay hungry
hey baby I'm just about starving tonight
I'm dying for some action
I'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this book
I need a love reaction
come on now baby gimme just one look

You can't start a fire sitting 'round crying over a broken heart
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
You can't start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart
This gun's for hire
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Even if we're just dancing in the dark
Hey baby.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Where Is My Mind?

6:00 a.m. is a strange time, I must admit. It doesn't have the romantic connotations of it's midnight brethren, nor is it as celebrated among the nightly restless as it's predecessor, 4 a.m., but it's an interesting hour all in it's own right. You start to see the reward for your labor; sunrise's first signs begin to creep across the sky. Oh, it's subtle, I admit, and often impossible to see. Especially when the weather is as ugly as it is now, but all the same there's something in motion.

I like the thought of that. Still, I can't help but glance at the little clock at the bottom right of my screen and think, "Is it really this early already? Where the hell did my night go?" Soon, I'll be back in classes and thinking "Man, where did the vacation go?" followed quickly by a summer break where I'll be wondering where the year went. Time is officially my enemy and I'll be laboring furiously to discover a way to pause it indefinitely. Collaborators are welcome, of course.

I think I'm becoming the ghost of myself again. I've been in auto-pilot for a long time now, which is a terrifying concept, I've never been one for routine and yet lately it's been one of the few comforting qualities. I imagine it's just so easy to fall into one and get used to it.

I have absolutely no patience for people anymore. Any little thing sets me off and I have no qualms with tearing into people, even strangers. For example, I was riding the metro and, while it wasn't that crowded there also wasn't all that much space to move about either. This was mainly due to a woman standing in front of the doors with about 10 grocery bags around her feet. Now, not only is this stupid as you force people to have to walk over it and possibly crush your stuff, but you also block the way for everyone. I'm standing next to her, waiting for the cart to stop so I can get off, and doesn't she cough right in my face? No turn away action, no covering her mouth, not even an apology. This woman just fires her illness at my face like a projectile and continues day-dreaming.

Now, I'm not usually one to care about germs or health-risks, but I am one for manners! This was downright rude and disrespectful. So, I tapped her shoulder, which seemed to surprise her since she sprang up a little. I smiled at her and, in as nice a voice as I could manage, said the following: "It's clear you were raised on a barn, but is there anything I should get treated for now that you've infected me? It better not be the plague, because I swear to god I'll burn down your house."

Now, granted she didn't understand a word of what I said, as I said it in english, but she certainly got the message that I was pissed off, because she offered me a Kleenex. Now, here I'm thinking "bitch, you have kleenex in your fucking pocket but you didn't have the presence of mind to put one in front of your mouth before you besieged my face with the black death?"

Some people.

Or, as was so succintly put by Camelia, the fucking buses. We live in Canada. We get 3 feet of snow every year and have since the fucking dawn of time. Why is it that the public transit people are surprised by this fact every winter to the point that it hinders their service? Look, snow or not, people rely on your service. This isn't something you do from the kindness of your heart, nor is it a priviledge, it's something we sink millions of tax dollars into annually. Where does this money go, exactly? What about all the cash we just blew buying your ridiculous opus cards? All that and you can't afford a fucking shovel and a window-scraper like the rest of us? My mother can drive a mini hatch-back civic in two feet of snow without winter tires on and you mean to tell me you can't handle a fucking bus? What, do you live in the metros like mole people and know nothing of the seasons? What really gets to me is when the bus finally does show up and the driver looks like he's pissed at you for making him do this. Listen, Jean-Gui Lafleur or whatever the fuck your name is, you've been riding on a heated bus in this weather while I stood in the fucking snow begging for the sweet release of death so that I could at least stop shivering. Kiss my frost-bitten ass.

When I'm done with the time-machine, I'm going to start breeding my own super-disease that will be highly contagious, completely fatal and uncurable. It's going to target everyone who is below a certain intellectual standard, anyone who coughs/sneezes without covering up, cannot handle a bus in the winter and scientologists.

Now, all that being said, I want to share something with you all. It's my favorite scene ever from what I think is arguably the best movie ever made. Every time I see it, I absolutely want to fall in love or develop a split personality so persuasive that I actually believe it to be a seperate person.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Nectar of LIFE.



This makes everything better.
This makes my day complete.
Without this, I am but a shell of myself.
With it, I move mountains with ease.

I'm not even kidding, apple juice is my fucking crack.

and I just bought about 40$ worth of apple juice, so I am in heaven.
Soooooooooooooo much love for apple juice.

S.O.S.

This may be a bit graphic, so please skip this next bit of text or bear with me through this. Puking out of your nose is, by large and wide, the worst thing I have ever experienced. Now, anyone who knows me knows that me saying that is quite a mouthful. I won't get into all the stupid and sometimes painful things that I've done, but believe me when I say that's an extensive list. It feels as if you face is exploding and all the pressure behind it is firing out of your nasal cavity. At the same time, it hurts to breathe and the smell, well, not only isn't it pleasant but it actually stings.

Or, in other terms:

It felt as if a hundred angry cats were set on fire, given rabies and switchblades and made to fight for dominance inside my throat. All the while a flood of suck and unhappiness is forcibly exiting both my mouth and nose at the speed of projectile vomit. At the same time, my stomach is revolting as if the civil war; let me assure you, the south did rise in this instance. It gives new meaning to feeling like shit. Game over, man. Game over.

This has been going on for the last 48 hours and I can't go on this way, I really can't.

I got a nasty bit of food poisoning yesterday afternoon. My brother and I were eating chinese from the place near our home and, well, I'm guessing it was the baby-back ribs since they were the only thing I ate that he didn't, and as he is fine, I assume it to be true...anyways, at first it wasn't so bad. I felt nauseous, of course, but it was bearable. Soon after arriving home, I felt that terrible feeling. You know what I'm talking about. That sickness is your chest right before the bile actually starts to rise. That constricted and heavy feeling, you know the one, I'm sure.

For reference, I spent most of last night and this morning cuddling a toilet bowl; an occurence that usually only occurs on the worst of my drinking benders. At least when I'm drunk, it feels nice!

Thankfully it has slowed down considerably, but I'm dying.

I hate being sick.


I also hate that I've got NOTHING TO DO.

I took time off work because, well, it's the holidays and my break from school! I wanted to make the most of it! Unfortunately, almost everyone else is busy and there were only so many things I could do on my own.

Someone needs to rescue me; hot soup and good movies would be greatly appreciated.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Think Happy Thoughts.

Sorry about that last post, I'm probably going to be taking it down later. I miss writing and haven't been able to find any motivation to do so lately. It's partially because I'm nowhere near the level I used to be at.

I'm just writing this post to kill time, honestly. I can't sleep and have nothing to do until my movie finishes downloading. If you haven't guessed by the piece I wrote, I'm in a very Pan-ish mood, and so I've decided to download and watch Hook, which is, next to Fight Club, my favorite movie of all time.

Tonight's Gossip Girl was spectacular. I can't believe Dan/Aaron. I hate them both so much, it's incredible. Also, Rufus is a dick and I hope he gets leprosy. I really do. Oh Chuck, why do you insist on pushing Blair away? So sad. The show needs more Eric. I love his Grandmother, she's such a bitch.

Last night's Dexter? W-o-w. Best episode of the season, so far. I mean...I knew he would eventually have to kill Miguel, but this soon? That was epic. Oscar knows, I'm sure of it. He knows and he's going to lash back at Dexter. It's going to be great.

New Years Eve is coming up quick and not only do I not have any plans, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be spending it home, alone. My parents are going up-north with my Aunts and Uncles, my brother is going to Cuba with his friends and most people are going up north or something to the chalet party. I might've considered even going to that if someone had told me before it had filled up and all the down payments were due.

Well, that's all.

Goodnight, internet.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

We're Going To Die Like This You Know.

I've been listening to nothing but Taking Back Sunday for the last 48 hours on loop. It started at Foufs Thursday night when they randomly broke the pace of the evening by playing Cute Without the E, which needless to say, sent most of us into a drunken singing frenzy that lasted the entire way home.

I think I love it more now than I ever did, just because now I can appreciate both the brilliance and innocence of the songs themselves and the nostalgia that comes with listening to their music. 16 really feels so long ago. There really are so few artists that really connect to a person the way they did during that era, especially with today's collection of over-produced, synth-heavy dance-rock clones.

Here's to you, kid.

Originally, I had written this long blog that was both uncharacteristically personal and far too revealing for me to comfortably leave visible here, on the internet. I've reached a strange place in my life. Maybe some day I'll re-post it for all of you to see, I'm curious what you'd think.

Instead, I'm going to opt to simply wish my Father a happy birthday and attempt to get some sleep, something I haven't done in days.


Have a good one, Dad. 53, already! Can you imagine? Oh, they grow up so fast! I wish I could find a picture of him at my age, or when he still lived in Casablanca. Oh well!



(This is Christmas two years ago, and strangely, the only picture that my father and I are both in.)


p.s. Yesterday was the long awaited get-together at Foufs, a thursday night occasion that I haven't indulged in for some time. I wish more of the old faces had managed to make it out, but I can't blame them for not showing. All the same, it was intensely nostalgic and felt, during many moments, like time hadn't gone by at all.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Long Johns Save Lives.

5:54 a.m. at time of writing! Well, it's pretty unsurprising that I'm still awake, wouldn't you agree? At this moment, I've only just finished one of my final essays and I can tell you, my head is ready to cave in. 10 glorious pages written on the contrasts and similarities between the free-print market revolution of the 17th century and our modern day internet-media revolution! Specifically in the cases of Alexander Pope's Dunciad v.s. Wikipedia, Swift's many satirical essays on politics v.s. Bill Maher and satirical news-comedies and, my personal favorite, Jesus v.s. Godzilla. Ok, so I'm only kidding on that last bit, but can you imagine such an epic battle? I'd be hard pressed to pick a winner, if I had to. Speaking of ridiculous battles, for those of you who follow politics, what's up with Harper getting Voltron'd? I've got no love for the man, but really what a sly and underhanded move by other parties. You'd expect it from the Bloc and maybe Layton, but the Liberals too? Oh well, coalition government time! As if the fall of the republic in Star Wars taught us nothing!

...I know, even I can't believe that I made that reference.

I need a shopping buddy, I really do. I've been out by myself lately and quite frankly, it's boring. I'd much rather have a friendly face with me to pass the time. Talking to strangers can be interesting, but it loses the novelty fairly quickly. And, honestly, I need someone with me to keep me from walking into an EB Games or a Future Shop and blowing all my money on gadgets and games.

For example, I recently bought a 750gig portable hard-drive just because it looked sort of like a flask and had nifty lights on it. Mindyou, I did need the extra storage space, but not that badly! Or better still, that HDMI cable I bought so I can sync my t.v. to my laptop and run my games through 51'' of high definition goodness. Sure, it pixelates and there's the occasional visual distortion, but I can cope. I've been debating getting a projector and screen for my room. I've always wanted a t.v. the size of a freaking wall. Then again, I do need a new phone as well...ah, I love far too much love for machines. John Connor would not be pleased with me.

...I need to stop making nerdy references.

Well, there's...slush on the ground that was once snow and it looks like we'll be getting more soon, so two things are happening in my world; I'll become ever more the recluse and I'm frantically searching for as many pairs of long johns as I can find. Bit of a winter tradition, but also a necessity for me! Those things keep me nice and warm, without them, I'd be lost. Winter also means a lot more reading done outside of academic purposes for me. I've been into Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre of late. Probably one of the finest pieces of existential literature that I've come across. The scary thing is how utterly and completely he disregards most notions of self, portrays us all as witty monsters, selfishly fueling this insatiable lust for significance and recognition. A much darker view than I expected, but intriguing nonetheless. In message and theme, it isn't at all far from L'etranger by Camus. After this, I finally have a copy of the God Delusion by Richard Dawkins to feast on.

I know I said I'd limit my rants, but a new one is already in the works. You'll soon see! Alas, for now, I think I should exit stage. I have an intense urge to get a Tim Hortin's breakfast thing. The eggs, sausage and bacon between a bagle. I want to kiss whoever decided to put these things together right on the mouth.


In the spirit of my nerdishness, I leave you with this youtube video I found. Someone wrote a love song based entirely on Mario Kart. Freaking. Mario. Kart. It is the cutest thing ever, by far.