A Prison

It's Christmas today.

I've spent nearly 5 months away from home, and this is my first extended visit back since the summer. After so long away, I've forgotten what life was like back here. My sister used to call me, nearly every week, with new stories about dealing with a mother who runs her family like a dictatorship. My response was always neutral, and I thought that it was a sign of my maturity that I was able to let go of my petty teenage quarrels and deal with things like an adult. I thought my sister was just immature.

Unfortunately, as this holiday has proven, it wasn't my maturity that made my mother easier to deal with - it was the distance. I've spent so much time away, I've actually forgotten exactly how difficult life is at home, and I assumed it was just because I 'grew up'. No, my mother is still the same as ever, made even worse by the fact that I'm no longer a child, or even a teenager. I'm a 20-year-old man who is upset because his mother is pointedly ignoring both her children on Christmas day, for no reason at all.

Maybe she woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something, but it's a terrifying day when you realize you are more mature than your parent. When it comes to the point when you realize all the flaws that are inherent in your mother, and you wonder if those flaws have been subconsciously, subliminally, taught to you. I watch my mother treat arguments with the "My word is law" routine, and I wonder if I learned that from her. I hear her telling her friends about her humility, her charity, her generosity, and then as she tells me, "Don't help him shovel his driveway, he never helped us."

Don't get me wrong. I owe my mother everything. But I'm beginning to lose faith in the opinion that my mother is "The Best." I'm beginning to see her flaws, her obsession for control, and most of all her inflexibility. I can see the way my own personality has split from the way she has taught me - in a sense, the idea that children are always an improvement on their parents has come true. I've taken the good points from my mother, but now I can see what parts need fixing.

It's just gotten worse, because I'm no longer used to it. I come home, and after a few days, I can feel the walls closing in. It's literally like a prison in the sense that I feel so trapped by the tension. Even worse, I can escape, back to Hamilton. But would that make me a coward? In any case, I can't leave my sister behind, and I can't take her with me, because she wouldn't have anything to do.

That's how to make a prison. A prison isn't a physical building. Walls and bars are just objects that hold your body. A prison is made of pain and hurt and anguish. So that even when the doors are opened, you can't even find the courage to run.

What's My Problem?

I don't know what's wrong with me. Okay, I know there are a lot of things wrong with me, and I can name many of them (I eat soup with a fork, I scream at small animals, etc), but lately something's been really wrong.

There's nothing inside of there you silly man.

My concentration is shot. I mean, it was bad enough before, when pocket lint used to distract me, but now it's just terrifying. I can't stay focused on one thing for more than five minutes. It's like I'm friggin' Hammy the squirrel hopped up on coffee bean injections. Considering the fact that I'm in my exam season, it's literally killing me. I've been thinking about going for a medical checkup, but I'm sort of afraid of what I'll find. Like what if I've been kidnapped by aliens and implanted with an alien clone baby that'll burst out my ass when I go poop? No, that would be uncool.

Not only that, but my writing/drawing/creativity is down the drain. I haven't written anything new for months. I think it's a lack of audience, but also a realization of my own failings, which makes me a little shy nowadays. I've lost a lot of the confidence I used to have in my own writing. I mean, I always knew they were shittier than a monkey's palms, but back then I didn't care. Now I can't write a poem without listening to depressing music (Linkin Park CDs), and even then, it turns out to be crap.

Sometimes, I don't even think the world is real. Like I can just reach out and grab hold of reality, and peel it back like a bad drawing. It just bothers me that nothing makes sense anymore - people are ignorant, the sky is always grey, and we have cartons of liquid eggs. There's obviously something senseless about this reality. Even the people sometimes seem like bad, poorly-paid actors that only exist to trick me into believing this false world.

I've lost inspiration. Intelligence. Health. I don't know what's wrong with me.

A New Start

I created a new blog today. It's for my happy side.

I don't know why I insist on separating my personalities. It's probably not healthy for me. I already have enough trouble deciphering which side is 'real' at the moment, but I just keep feeding the beast.

Ah well. Expect both blogs to be updated sporadically. Dualism is my thing, after all.

A Quiet Love

The world spins, and we spin with it. The ice on the glass frosts over like a lattice of creeping fingers, seeking the cold and fearing the sun. The ground grows hard, and the apples are gathered and stored, as the earth turns sharply to a waste of water and ice. We lie in the dirt as the wind howls above, shrieking the names of the lost to the empty skies, without a single response from the grey clouds above. Our fingers are spread over the jagged rocks as the moon rises from the water, carrying the acrid scent of burning wood, like a house of leaves, jealous of the sun, for it is far more fair than she. The cold air stings like a bustle of bees, and our breaths leave in plumes of stolen soul. The world is lonely here, and we stand on the shoulders of giants. The horizon seems so far away, but reaching out a hand, I can almost touch it. The world is quiet, and we stand in silence, watching as it all burns away.

Under the moon and the sun, two hearts beat as one.

Helpless

A friend of mine (Let's call her S) has been in a relationship with a guy for about a month now. The problem is, her mother doesn't like this guy. So S calls me.

I suspect she's calling me to talk to her mother, so I can try and reason her into liking her daughter's boyfriend. Unfortunately, I agree with the mother's stance - S went into this relationship without considering the consequences, and now she has to deal with them. she got herself in, she has to get herself out.

Halfway through the conversation, S hangs up on me. She doesn't want to hear what I have to say. So why call me?

She wants advice, so she turns to the people close to her for help, but then, when she hears something she doesn't like, she gets angry, ignores what's been said, and does what she wants anyways. So how am I supposed to help?

A Simple World

My mind has been blank for months. The thoughts that used to come so easily, flowing from mind to hand to pen to paper, are gone. I, like the drowning man, must struggle for the right words.

When did this start? When I chose to be happy - when I made the decision to walk away from the hurt and the pain. When I allowed myself to unleash my anger, instead of maintaining the facade that holds it in. I walked away from the blood spilled in the name of making the world a slightly better place, and in doing so I walked away from my muse, my inspiration.

I'm beginning to understand that tragedy is a bedfellow to motivation. We are driven not by will, but by necessity. We are pushed along by sorrow and pain, and the most famous works of our time have been written by the walking wounded. The fuel for the imagination is burned from the hearts of the depressed.

The world I once knew so intimately is now foreign to me. The sun is too bright on this side of the twilight - I much prefer the night. The jagged lines that cross the faces of the people I know are like the too-real smiles of porcelain dolls - my heart tells me they are but masks, but I can no longer tell the difference. The world I knew was fake is becoming real, while the real world of tragedy sinks behind the curtains.

They once told me that the world was a simple place. The pond is very deep; placing my foot on the ice, I see it only as a puddle.

Watch Out

My friends are everything to me. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let them walk over me. And if they do, they weren't really my friends in the first place.

Allergic to Advil

I took a bus back to my hometown Friday night, after a horrible midterm, and met my friend at the mall. After some fiascos involving pre-teens and a bag of brownies, he said he had a headache, so we went back to my place to grab some Advil. He takes two pills, watches TV for two hours, then decides to tell me he’s allergic to aspirin.

His throat starts swelling up, and his eyes are bugging out of his head, and I end up driving him to the emergency room. On the way, he had the great idea of pretending to choke and die to freak me out and I almost drove off a fucking escarpment. Then he starts making phone calls, and before I know it, a group of people are waiting back at my house to make sure everything is okay.

Then, we’re in emergency room, surrounded by people coughing and crying, and he says, “We should call people and tell them I’m dying.” See, I have a horrible, horrible taste in jokes, but I think I did a spit-take right then. Not to mention that I was cranky from the earlier midterm, paranoid from his cavalier behavior, and not looking forward to entertaining the four other guests waiting for me at home.

Eventually, we go through ten different nurses and doctors who take and retake all his information, all curious as to why he would take Advil with a known Advil allergy. I almost wept with relief when they stabbed that fucking needle into his arm and told us we could go.

At the end of the night, when we finally get out, he turns to me and says, “Well, at least this night was memorable.”

I hate it when he’s right. Then we all stayed up the whole night watching Youtube videos.

Son, do you want a toilet bowl?

So we went on an adventure.

Explored the student center's basement and ran into some old friends, then made our way into University Hall and took a look around the theater. Not long after that, we got into Hamilton Hall and managed to PTL onto the Up, and got some nice snaps. B BSB had tunnels upon tunnels, but that's for another time.

The interesting part of the night was when we went Up into MDCL. The penthouse door was open, so we took a peek inside. Turns out that the door is tripped, and security showed up not long after. Not our problem the door was open, we weren't trespassing. We said as much and got off with a warning. Win for Win.

Gonna lay low for a while, until this dies down, and then it'll be off to MUEC again.

Sunset

One afternoon I was walking along a narrow alleyway. Pinched in the breath of two buildings, my footsteps echoing through the dark corridors, I was surrounded by the orange and pink of the reflected sky. It was an eerie and unique illusion - every color bounced from the bricks and cobblestone, reflecting what was above it like a psychedelic mirror. To my left was a thick brick wall, with peeling red paint that fell off in ash-like flakes, their dance in the wind patterned perfectly in the light. On my right were the long shadows of the day, stretching over doors and windows like abstract nightmares, as thinly spread as the thoughts running through my mind.

The wind howled down the thin gap, screaming in my ears, and the trees behind protested in its passing with an agitated rustling of leaves. I looked up, the shadows of the buildings cast overhead, and a thin, red strip of sky painted between the narrow space. A rusty ladder called to my hands, so I climbed it to get a better view. Flakes of rust peeled off onto my hands as I climbed, higher than the horizon, but I didn't care. The wind swayed like a pendulum, carrying the smells of an entire day across the world. As I climbed, the shadows lessened and the light grew strong, reflecting off the metal sidings like a million shards of fire.

I lifted my head above the edge of the building, and the disc of the sun nearly blinded me. It hovered in the sky, a clock without hands, granting an entire world with its light. The normally grey buildings below burst into vibrant shades of red and orange, their windows and doors making small faces at me, and the dark waters of the harbour sparkled with the reflected sky. The escarpment rose out of a two-dimensional plane into the reality of the dawning sleep, and the hills and mountains stretched their long shadows across the city. The birds circled overhead, heading back to their nests, and somewhere in the distance, a gull cried out loud. I closed my eyes and the light of the sunset still pierced through me.

Hand by hand, I descended, and as I did, the sun did too. By the time I jumped off at the bottom, the sky was dark once more. The houses lining the roadside stared at me with dark faces, their countenances painted in shades of grey. The water of the harbour lapped noisily and greedily, no longer bright, but dim with pollution. Not a single bird marked the sky. All that was left was a memory of light, the bright spots that still appeared on my closed eyelids.

But as I walked home in the shadows, I took the chance and looked up. The stars were out.

Parkour

I spent the last 4 hours taking a crash course in Parkour. My whole body hurts. I thought I was limber enough from martial arts, but this was a whole new deal. Flips and rolls and jumps and catches and climbs and ducks. Wow.

Adventure Log

Whew. Another update. Pictures will be coming, just not at the minute, as I'll explain in two seconds.

So I was sitting around in class, looking up random internets on my laptop, when I heard this awful clanking noise emanating from my cooling vent. It sounded like a screw had gotten loose inside and was stuck in the fan like a rock in butter.

I took out my handy-dandy jeweler's tools, and unscrewed my laptop case. I couldn't see the screw, but I could still hear it clinking around, so I took my laptop and gave it a pretty vigorous baby-shaking. Nothing fell out, so I reassembled the casing and pressed the power button. But it didn't turn on, not even after I pressed the stupid thing 40 times. Whoops.

Jon took a look at it that night, but he just shrugged and told me to buy a new computer. So I did, and now I'm typing on my brand-new touchscreen Tablet PC, which is a pretty sweet machine. Half the cost of my old laptop, but 3 times the RAM, speed, and hard drive space. The touchscreen is pretty cool too - I can finally draw directly instead of scanning all my pictures in.

The only downsides are the weird keyboard layout and the difficulty with writing on the screen. Sometimes the text-recognition program doesn't work very well - my lol's become (01's. Other than the few nitpicky things, it's an awesome computer. I'm sure I'll get used to it.

Anyways, adventures this week: A couple of the engineers suited up in formal wear (ties, dress shirts, skirts and dresses) and went to The WestEnd. It was a good night, but Nik and I were craving some adventure, so we decided to climb CNH. Lisa, Laura and Julianna tagged along with us. The night got off to a good start - we were running around, hiding from each other, and generally just playing around like drunk students will do. Things sorta went sour when we tried to explore Quarter's. The manager spotted us and called security. Nik and I had the presence of mind to RUN, but the girls weren't so smart and ended up getting cornered by the Mac 5-0, who kicked them off campus.

Nik and I saw the whole incident from the roof of CNH, and met up with the girls back at WestEnd. Julianna and Laura both went in for more drinks, but Lisa tagged along with us. We decided to go to the old trainyard, a couple blocks down east. It was dark and misty, and the trains cast long shadows on the ground, setting the atmosphere for an amazing night.

We hoisted ourselves up onto a long, trailing set of grain cars. I never realized how tall trains were. The one we climbed was nearly two stories, and about 30 cars long. We walked the entire length of the train, jumping across gaps between cars while keeping an eye out for the warehouse workers. It was cold and wet, but we were in adventure mode, so the weather didn't bother us much.

We explored the trainyard a little more and found a watchtower, about 80 feet tall. A single ladder went up all the way to the top, where we could see a small platform and a spotlight. The ladder had some sort of metal barrier on it, but we bypassed this by climbing the framing. We scaled our way to the top and sat 80 feet above the ground, in the strong wind, on a dangerously swaying tower.

On our way down, Nik dropped his knife and his cell phone. The cell fell all 80 feet onto hard gravel, while the knife narrowly missed my head by two feet. Fearing the worst, we climbed down quickly, jumping down rungs two at a time. Nik found his cell phone, and turned it on - only to find that it worked perfectly, without any damage at all. Just to note: Sony Ericssons are INDESTRUCTIBLE.

We went to the nearby golf course and told a couple ghost stories. We also played with the hole flags. We kept walking and walking, until we hit a road, and realized how far we'd actually come. We began at WestEnd, and ended up at Aberdeen and Longwood, about 5km away from our starting point. It took us a freaking hour to walk back, in the cold mist, at 4 a.m, and we ended up sleeping for a bit on a sidewalk. Amazing night.

It didn't end there though. This morning, I got up at noon and met Nik at his house. We walked down to the school and got on a totally random bus. We spent the entire day drifting from one bus to another, stopping at malls and stores and restaurants. There were a lot of interesting shops, and a lot of interesting people - crazy candy lady, one-arm man, and black sand man. I saw a lot of Hamilton I haven't seen before, and we'll definitely do it again soon.

It's 2 a.m. and I'm exhausted. Pictures coming soon, and I'll tidy this up sometime. Night.

ESC

On the Internet, no one knows who you are. You can pretend to be a rich, privileged kid living in a beautiful suburb whose parents are both lawyers with high-paying jobs, and even though they work a lot of the time, you don't mind because you spend a lot of your time on your state-of-the-art laptop browsing internet forums and pages. No one can tell that you really live in a trailer with your unemployed parents, and you struggle to pay the internet bill yourself because the sound of your secondhand computer is the only thing that can drown out the screams when your father comes home drunk.

You can ask a million people to draw a picture of you, but although they may be perfect physically, there isn't an artist that can truly capture a soul on paper. And if there was, would you dare to look? The dark, twisted parts, dabbed in black, that you try to hide from the light. The hurt in swashes of deep scarlet, the broken parts that sometimes can't be fixed. The truth, in blinding white, the parts you try to deny. Would you look at such a painting?

Does anyone know who you are? Which is more real - the face you wear or the complexity inside - or are you an amalgam of who you really are and what you pretend to be? The face in the mirror is what people see, but what they feel is a different picture. Could you paint your soul? Do you know who you are?

We always search for an escape - to deny the truth - to put on a mask and shield ourselves from the world. We need that ESC button, the pause from reality, our pinky reaching towards the top left of the metaphorical keyboard. We all try to hide, behind designer labels, false bravado, and anonymous internet usernames. Whether it's on the internet, a lawless world where the only pulse is the transfer of information, or in reality, where each beat of your heart reminds you of what lurks beneath your facade, we all strive to hide. To thine own self be untrue.

Adventure

Things are looking amazingly sky-high.

So Frosh week was an experimental period of separation between me and the people who I used to force myself to hang out with. It worked, and I've effectively divorced myself from the YEAH DRINK TO GET DRUNK crowd. I've never felt better letting myself go, and getting angry sometimes has helped my self-control incredibly.

Anyways, I was sitting in front of my computer one day, and I was writing about all my previous life 'adventures'. Then the irony hit me like a truckload of fail - here I am, writing about sleeping outside and hitchhiking across continents, but now I'm sitting in front of a computer on facebook. I miss adventure. What the hell am I doing here?

So last night, me and Nik built a cross at Adam Wong's house (Adam is sort of like an engineering god). Then we climbed ABB (our school's science building) and explored the roof for hours. I took an amazing photo of Thode at night from above. The roof of ABB is like a maze, there are ladders going up and down and pipes running everywhere, and vents spewing random white smoke. We had some dangerous moments climbing across six-story drops, and then we went an explored the maintenance level with all the steam pipes and wires. It was like being in a submarine hallway. Fucking incredible.

Eventually, we went down into the building itself, and tried to get into a lot of places, like the electron microscopy lab. We jumped over the staircase railing to get past the door lock, but there was ANOTHER locked door. We also tried the loading dock, but some radio music was coming out, so we figured someone might have been working late. We also found a scary demon painting called 'Fallen Angel" - not a nice sight in a dark, silent building at night. I also got scared by the maintenance hallways, and my reflection in a window. Lol.

Eventually, we went over to BSB, and got in through the unlocked elevator entrance. We went up to the fourth floor, but some guy was there, so Nik started jamming the "close door" button and we escaped to the third floor. BSB was sort of boring, but we did explore the subbasement and found the building blueprints labeled "BSB Phase III". Like any good spy, we took the prints and ran to JHE.

That night, when I got home, I talked to my housemate Lisa and convinced her to sleep outside. It was so freaking nice, but it got really cold around 5 a.m., so we went inside. I almost missed the speech I had to give this morning, but it was SO worth it.

Then today, I got Jon and James and we climbed the hill/cliff/mountain at the end of Emerson road. The hill ended at the highway, but it was still cool because we saw a deer and got some exercise.

You know when self-made promises never ever go right? Well, this one went perfectly. Anyways, I need to go. I have more adventures to explore.

Autopilot

Justin says:
I have no idea how I got home Wednesday.
Aaron d[-_-]b says:
hahaha maybe someone dragged you home
Justin says:
DAMMIT WHO?!
Justin says:
Probably Josh or Nik... I'll ask them.
Aaron d[-_-]b says:
probably
Aaron d[-_-]b says:
or maybe your autopilot works
Justin says:
Haha sweet.
Aaron d[-_-]b says:
theres only one way to test this hypothesis
Justin says:
... oh no.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be: The Stranger

The boy stood at the foot of the narrow bed, watching the other toss fitfully in his sleep. The room was dark, doubly shaded by the night sky and the tightly closed curtains - curtains that had forgotten what it was like to be open, laden with dust and grime.

The blankets were so warm, damp with sweat from the restless nightmares. He lifted an edge and tucked himself in, lying next to the larger figure, feeling the twin heartbeats beat in rhythm - both speeding - one fighting a losing struggle, the other racing in fear.

All was silent, save the beeps of the medical equipment counting down the seconds, and the ragged breaths echoing in the room. The air was still, stagnant, almost frozen in anticipation. The boy held his breath along with the world - it seemed as if the universe was waiting in anxiety, paused on the dreadful cusp of a great fall. All was silent.

The darkness was choking. No longer a concept, it had become alive, a thing unto itself, raising its dark arms to envelope the occupants of the room and swallow them whole. The boy could feel it now - cold hands reaching for the bed, tilting them up, and sliding them into a maw from which there was no escape. He scrunched his eyes tightly shut.

A few seconds later, he opened them. A figure was standing by the bedside, obscured by the shadows, mere inches away. It was a shape the boy recognized, because it came every night, visiting in the late hours, although all the doors were locked and windows bolted. No barrier could stop this one from coming, not when it sensed its time was near.

The boy spoke wordlessly, screamed silently, shouted nothing. The figure was motionless, still, but its presence was heavy with intent and foreboding. Each night it would appear, frozen as the moonlight, and each night it would vanish again by daybreak. He never saw it come, and never saw it go, but every night, it would stand by the bedside, waiting.

One day it would move, stretch out its arms, and take the other away. The boy hoped against it, but he knew. There was no stopping The Stranger. Not when there was a debt to collect.

He turned away, but he still felt the coldness at his back, the tingle up his spine. He knew.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Frosh Week Wheels on a Bucket

Quick post. I haven't had internet for the last few days. We disconnected it for August (since everyone went home for the summer) and we just got it back.

Anyways, recap of Frosh Week (a more in-depth one will be coming soon):

Monday: Bed Racers, we screamed a lot, I ran after the Kin students, I was hit by the commerce bedracer, we got disqualified for the thrust walk. That night, 'meeting' at 29 Norfolk, and they drew a picture of me with keyboard teeth and tiny genitals.

Tuesday: Faculty day. I lost my voice today, we ran over humanities, I tackled a Science Ninja, ten frosh called me son. Watched Tokyo Police Club, it was great. Ruby Coast was excellent too.

Wednesday: Airbands. I tried bungee walking and failed miserably. Reds meeting that night, where I got completely pwnzrd by cheap pitchers of 'water'.

Thursday: Gek, where I spent the entire time getting eaten by bugs while walking forest duty. I left early and went to WestEnd instead, and had a few pints with my housemates and Jon's house.

Friday: Bus Pull and FWP. I left FWP early because it was honestly pretty expensive, loud, and shitty. I ended up going to WestEnd again with Jason S and Jason O.

Saturday: 266 Invite-only party. Most drunk I was this week, Josh made me shotgun a beer, then shotgun another one when I failed the first one. Went swimming and made a whirlpool, then played the 'point and tackle circle' game in the water. I really enjoyed this party because it was just a bunch of cool first-years and Reds that I can rely on. We saw the Alexisonfire concert too, which was AMAZING and headbangalicious.

Facemouth

Okay, so storytime:

I woke up one morning with this HUGE pain in my jaw, on the right side. I couldn't close my mouth without wincing because there was just this buildup of pressure near my ear. Originally I thought I had an ear infection or maybe a really bad toothache, so I took a few Advil to relieve the pain. After a few hours, the pain disappeared, and it was like nothing had happened. So I was like, "Alright" and just went on with whatever.

Then a few days later, I woke up with the same pain, but on the other side. This time I said, "No way this is an earache or toothache" because how could I get toothache on both sides in such a short time? That's a huge coincidence, and I'm a man of logic, so I was trying to figure it out. The pain, again, disappeared after a few hours, leaving me confused and puzzled.

So the other day, I took my sister to the dentist and took the opportunity to ask. It turns out I've been grinding my teeth in my sleep from stress.

Now, this wouldn't normally be that big of a problem, but the thing is, I sleep on my face. Quite literally, I have my entire face shoved into the pillow. So I've been grinding my teeth all night, for hours, with the entire weight of my body pushing my mouth into the bed. Thus the cause of my facemouth pain. Lol.


On another note, I found my camera. I thought I had lost it for like, three weeks. I was asking Udit if I had left it in his car after our Sauble camping trip, and he said no, and when I got up to go to the bathroom, I noticed my hat in the corner, on the ground. I picked it up and my camera fell out. I looked at it in stunned silence for like, twenty seconds, then I just screamed in rage. My sister ran upstairs and was like, "the fuck?" I'm so stupid.

Bored

Contents of my desk:

-Banana
-Fork
-Metal bracelet from a cheap kampung shop
-Screwdriver
-Pins, one has a Tetris Heart and the other has cityofghouls.com
-My wallet and cards
-Sunglasses
-Cell phone
-9 pages of MtG rares
-Two AA batteries for my Wiimote
-Mechanical pencil
-Eraser
-Linkin Park: Live in Texas CD
-Vicks Vaporub
-Polysporin
-Miniature Bonsai Kit!
-Dr. Stringfellow's Lem-Oil Fretboard conditioner
-A picture of me and my prom date
-A Mario pokemon card I made myself
-A stuffed gorilla, koala, panda
-Two empty beer bottles
-Deodorant, stick and spray
-Cologne, aramis
-Jar of pennies
-Nail clippers
-Some loose change
-Earbuds
-A tube of Rockets candy
-A sheet with my D2 mule's items
-Various shiny rocks

No Thank You

I'm being disillusioned.

The only drugs I'll ever take are prescription. Sure, you can call me lame, or square - you can tell me I should live life on the edge, that I should stop being so careful - but you know what? I don't have a problem with you using narcotics - if you want to, that's fine. I have a problem when you try to pressure me into it. In all honesty, I'd rather keep myself free of anything that would negatively affect myself or others. I don't even drink caffeine, and when I do consume alcohol, I keep it at a responsible level. I have responsibilities to take care of and drugs aren't high on my list of cool things to do.

And yeah, I think body modification is pointless. It's not a bad thing, you go ahead and do it, but again, don't try and convince me to get a piercing or tattoo. If I ever do, it'll mean something to me, but I won't stick pieces of metal in my body to 'pick up chicks'. You can get one to 'be cool', but I'd rather stick with my own ideals and values than give in to flow with popular culture.

Seriously guys. Yeah, I make bad decisions, but I'm proud to say I've never smoked a day in my life. I've never taken narcotics, never done anything I couldn't tell my mom. That means a lot to me, my self-worth. And yeah, I will get defensive if you pressure me. Your decisions are your own, I'm not blasting you for doing shit to yourselves, but don't fucking try to convince me to go against what I believe.

Song Storm

Beautiful Girls - Sean Kingston
I Kissed a Girl - Katy Perry
Crooked Teeth - Death Cab for Cutie
Where is the Love? - Black Eyed Peas
Yellow - Coldplay
Back Here - B.B. Mak
Stand by Me - Ben E. King
You and Me - Lifehouse

I HAVE LEARNED ALL THESE SONGS IN A WEEK. Fuck do I love guitar.

He Doesn't Look a Thing Like Jesus

My life as of late:

My mom went off to New Zealand yesterday with her old schoolmates to celebrate their 50th birthday, leaving me at home with Stella and Shamrock. It's the first time she's left me in charge for more than a week, so I'm a little apprehensive about having so much responsibility. But 20, right? I can handle it.

The biggest problem I have is leaving the house. I can't really go out for more than an hour, and definitely not overnight, unless I call someone to babysit. I've had to turn down a number of events just to stay home and look after stuff. It sucks, but I'll have to grow up eventually. Just taking it a little earlier than expected.

Most of my time is spent on the computer, which is probably really unhealthy. Luckily I've been taking the dog for runs, so I'm getting sunlight. Oddly enough, I've gained 10 pounds this month from Taekwondo training and learning to backflip, and people have been saying I look healthier. That's pretty awesome, considering I've always been frail (Lol Shani and Andrew, pencil arms).

My hair has really grown out too. I need to get it trimmed, but lately I've just been razoring it myself. Alex and I are probably going to dye our heads and spike it up a la Dragonball Z for frosh week. Yeah, we're massive nerds, but when have I ever been completely normal? Weird is a synonym for Awesome in my dictionary. In any case, my hair is getting in the way alot - makes me wonder if I should buy some hairclips with little butterflies, or just steal my sister's.

Aside from the computer, I've been playing a lot of guitar. I've learned Death Cab's new album, Narrow Stairs, and a couple other songs by Muse and Guns & Roses. Today I went to L&M and bought a set of Super Slinkies, and spent a good hour restringing my RGT42. It has a floyd rose bridge - for those of you not guitar-savvy, it's a complicated piece of hardware that takes FOREVER to adjust, so changing strings turns into a chore. I haven't changed my RGT's strings since I got it over 4 years ago, so it was worth it. It sounds fucking INCREDIBLE - sustain is through the roof, tone is crisp and clear, but I'm still thinking about replacing the stock Infinity humbuckers with some new ones.

I'm going off to play The Killers now. I'll post again soon.

Maybe Black Mesa?

Conversation with a telemarketer:

"Hello?"
"Yes, hello. Can I please speak to Mrs. Sma?"
"She's not in right now..." (in fact my mom is sitting at the dining table)
"Can I please speak to Mr. Sma?"
"Uhm, he's occupied." (technically, Mr. Sma would be me, but whatever)
"Are you over 18 and a member of the household?"
(at this point I usually put on my 'kid' voice and say no really sweetly, but I'm sick of these people calling so...)
"Yes, actually I am."
"Oh wonderful! I'm calling from Action Doors and Windows, and we're giving out free, no-cost estimates during this month and this month only! We have a special offer on replacing all your door and window frames, and we have many specials on frosted glass and specialty panels. This is a one-time offer and limited time. Would you be interested in a free estimate?"
(here I'm thinking, bullshit one-time offer, you've called me every day for the past week)
"Oh, that's amazing! Yes, yes I would be interested. You see, I'm a door myself."
"Pardon?"
"I, uh, I'm a door salesman."
"That's excellent. So you must know a lot about doors. What company are you with?"
"Aperture Science, we operate out of Black Mesa. Maybe you've heard of us before?"
"Oh, no. I'm not familiar with that company. In any case, we can come by within the next week to give you a free, no charge estimate. Is there a specific time when you are free?"
"I'll have to check my schedule. Are you able to repair blue portals?"
"Pardon?"
"My door. It's the blue end of a portal field. The orange part works fine, but anything that goes through it fails to end up on the blue end. It works fine the other way around though, blue to orange. It's actually pretty weird and I've been meaning to get it looked at."
"Er. I'm actually only the company salesperson, I'm not familiar with the different types of doors. Perhaps one of the workers can answer your question when they visit."
"Oh gosh, hang on. My dog just went in through the orange end."
"Uhm."
"Hang on, hang on. Just a second, I have to check whether she came out the blue side."
(at this point my mom is looking at me quizzically. I blow into the phone)
"Sir?"
"Yeah, I'm back. Listen, she hasn't come out the other side yet, and I'm getting kind of worried. I'm thinking I should go in after her, but I might not come out either. Do you have any suggestions? Should I just open up another set of portals, and see what happens?"
"I - Maybe I should call back at a better time?"
"No, hang on. I'm going to go in, but I'll take the cordless phone with me."
"Alright."
"Okay, here I go."
(at this point I scrub my finger along the speaker, making a horrible static noise, then I yell really loud)

I hang up the phone and go back to eating dinner.

Men can show their nipples in public

Aaron: "I'm actually pretty hungry."
GTCMNC: "I have a bag of chips. Plain chips."
Me: "How about dip? Chips and dip equal awesome?"
GTCMNC: "No dip, sorry. We could run to the store and get dip."
Me: "What's in your fridge? We could make our own dip."
GTCMNC: "Jam. And peanut butter. I don't have much to make dip with."
Me: "I've had worse."
GTCMNC: "How about curry? I have curry, we could use the curry to dip the chips with?"
Aaron: "But how will we eat the things in the curry? You know, the chunky bits?"
GTCMNC: "Chicken?"
Me: "We could use two chips. Make a little chip sandwich, you know?"

Moral of the story: CURRY CHIP SANDWICHES ARE AWESOME.

I'm Turning into my Sister

I'm feeling way better now. Letting anger out is pretty therapeutic and after the whole dick-ery this weekend, I've been more upbeat and awesome. I went for a walk with my dog and made out with her on the grass, cause it's her birthday. Don't censor me!

I'm bored though. Reading webcomics and listening to Jann Arden all day is sorta lame - but hey, I fold down the lip of my socks, so I can't say much about being totally crippled. I can't even go back to Hamilton because I have to fix my screen door. Stupid dog and being huge-ass enough to plough through weak plastic framing. Even though I sorta don't want to go back, because, well... DRAAAAMMAAAAAA.

Tomorrow I'm going to Superburger! Or lacking that, going out with my lovely 4th Spares, to Girasole's, our favourite restaurant. I may go overboard and order a fucking expensive meal, crashing my last two government paychecks, but WHATEVER YO. <3 Girasole's. Hey, we haven't been to Symposium lately either - we gotta go back and punch the chick that made fun of my shirt. IN THE FAES.

Man, I have to re-burn my driving CD too. Captain Planet and Batman don't play properly, probably some mix-up between the original MIDI and the converted version. Yeah, shh, I know, HUGE NERD ALERT. Don't even get me started with Red Alert 3 - ARMORED BEARS WTF.

The word of the day is Aewoms!

Hey kid

I'm fine. But I wish you were too.

Darker

During the past week after returning from Vancouver, there's been some changes.

As per the previous few posts, self-victimization and a lack of self-respect have been some noticeable flaws in my otherwise impeccable poise, and lately I've been taking steps to change that.

There is one large side-effect that I had expected and foreseen.

Back when I was a kid, before all this drama, I was the world's most arrogant and egotistical child. I have proof. Skip forward a decade and that version of me has been suppressed and caged. I can't get rid of it because it's part of who I am - the twisted individual under the surface.

It's the part of me that never grew up. An arrogant, self-serving jackass that lurks just underneath my skin, angry at being held back all these years, forced to smile and be polite and lick other people's boots to make them happy. It's the side of my personality that once punched my sister and tried to push my mom down the stairs. And it's become the source of my depression, hate, anger - The Dark Passenger.

And now it's coming out. I have to keep it on a short leash, but I find myself short on patience and high on temper. I've told people to shut up, to leave me alone, to go fuck themselves. I'm scared, because I'm becoming someone new and old at the same time, and I find myself falling into a familiar attitude. But on the other hand, part of me feels free, liberated, and the darker side of me enjoys the sadistic pleasure of telling others to go shove it.

I really don't care much anymore. Don't come to me.

Be Right Back

Hey guys and lady-types. I'm pretty busy what with Vancouver and my cousin's wedding and all that jazz, so big updates will have to wait until I get back to T.O.

Meanwhile, short quips, I've been listening to the new Death Cab album Narrow Stairs and it is ear candy. On top of that, Vancouver is a pretty nice city, if not a little overcrowded with asians. I've seen some awesome sights in the past week, and I'll post some pics up soon. The Plumbline is going well, I've gotten a number of articles done and we're ready to finalize it. And finally, I'm thinking about writing a book based on my very random life experiences, most of which can be found on this site anyways, with some extras that haven't been seen by any other eyes. We'll see what happens.

They might be rich, famous, pretty, lucky, special, and a million myriad other things, but they're not me, and I am me, and it makes me laugh inside.

I'm Awesome

I recently posted a note on Facebook asking people to tell me what my flaws are. It stems from a recent discussion with my mom, where she told me I'm egotistical. My mom is usually right, so I decided to ask my friends for confirmation.

It seems I have a problem with self-loathing. Most people think I'm being way too negative about myself, way too emo, and that I rag on myself way too much. My mom seems to think that I'm doing it to get attention, which may be true. I never realized it myself, but I do put myself down a shit lots, and maybe it is to get attention. I don't do it on purpose, it's just unconcious, but I'll make an effort to change.

So here. I'm awesome. I play guitar like a true musician should. I can write poetry that makes people laugh and cry, and it's been published. I'm in engineering, a notoriously hard program, and I'm doing well to boot. I'm physically fit, lean, and I have abs. I've taken taekwondo for over 12 years and I could kick your ass into the ground. I'm entertaining, hilarious, and manage a humour newspaper distributed to hundreds of readers. I've got plenty of life experience on the streets and at home, and on top of that I've travelled almost everywhere I've wanted to go. I don't spend on useless things and I'm secure with my money. I can understand other people because I have a high sense of empathy. I'm better at talking to girls than most guys because I've lived in a house full of them. People feel comfortable with me within minutes of meeting me. I'd be what people consider a 'nice guy' that you'd feel okay taking to meet your parents. I'm neat and organized, and clean on top of that. I can cook and do my own laundry and I don't need to rely on anyone to get by. I listen to almost every genre of music, favouring independant bands the most. I don't drink, smoke or do drugs. I go to church nearly every Sunday, as often as I can. I can hold a conversation with almost anyone, and I don't have any enemies. I treat my friends with the highest respect and loyalty. I say profound things on a constant basis, and I've been told I'm wise beyond my years. I've been through terrible experiences and survived and become even better. I'm good at video games and most sports. When I do drink, I have a high alcohol tolerance bordering 8 pints of beer. I'm always willing to help out or listen, and I'm one of the most trustworthy people you'll meet. I can keep a secret forever. I can present a neutral view of a situation, and I can fix most problems within my social circle. I'm in the loop when it comes to popular culture and internet memes, and I can tell really good jokes. I drink my requisite 8 glasses of water a day.

So yeah, that makes up for all the self-hate.

High Maintenance

Analysis time.

I'll be the first to admit I'm not normal. I have issues that make me a non-typical guy, not to mention a non-typical person. I can accept my history as something different, but it's at times like this that I really do hate what life has done to me. If I were any more 'normal', would things be different? And the answer is obviously yes, things would be different, I would be different, and maybe I would have gotten a different answer. I'm not assuming, I'm just wondering. My life has made me who I am, for sure, but it's also made me unusual and hard to understand.

I know my faults clearly. I wish I was 40 pounds heavier and was more aggressive. I wish I was better-looking, less insecure, so on and so forth. It's nothing I can change, because my faults are part of me and make me who I am. Anyone that accepts me has to accept my faults, and it might be difficult because they are a lot of them. As Katrina says, I'm 'high maintenance'. I'm an attention whore and I have an insanely high ego. I know I sell myself way too hard.

I had hoped for a chance but it's better it happens now than later. I do have my slight glimpses into the future after all, and I knew there was a very good chance things would never have worked. But hope, right? Risk, right? Taking the chance to ask was a big step for me. I don't think I've ever gotten a straight out Just Friends and I'm glad I did it.

Anyways, time to move on. It's a new day outside, I'm free, and life always gets better.

A Deep Breath

I'm so fucking relieved all that shit is over because my life was stressed out. I'm not going to pretend I'm not upset, because that would be a lie. I'm a little disappointed, but I can deal with it and accept it. There's no changing the past so I might as well move on, right?

And Ashley at the bar will start serving me beer again, which is a relief.

Anyways, I can just be truthful now and say that looking back, she may not have been the best match for me, and that I liked her for only parts of her personality, not the whole. As I told Heywood, sometimes I just feel like punching her in the face (sorry, it was an exaggeration), and I guess that's a bad sign.

I'm happy that I asked, because now I can move on, instead of dragging it out for another month and most likely wasting my time. I would have liked a chance, a trial run, but I mean, it's not my decision to make and I can be at peace with that. So thanks.

Lucky

The sky was clouded, spotted with dark patches between which the sun shone dimly through. The air was humid, hot, and smelled of asphalt and rubber, carrying the sweat and aroma from the patrons of the nearby Tim Horton's.

I jiggled my hand in my pocket, hoping to find enough cash for an ice cappuccino. Only a quarter bounced back eagerly, 25 cents of disappointment. Not nearly enough for anything, except maybe a phone call. I moved on.

Recently, my life has been pretty rough. There are things I've never had to deal with before, and my relationships towards people are changing. Maybe it's me, maybe it's them, maybe it's life. There are times when I feel terrible, like no one gives a shit. It's like being punched in the back - you're never expecting it, and you don't realize it until you're face-down in the dirt. It's a horrible feeling.

There were some chairs set up, facing the lake, and tourists sat there, taking pictures, watching the birds, taking in the sights and sounds. The sidewalk was strewn with sticks, small leaves, cigarette butts. I stepped around all of them, making my way further downtown.

A spatter of rain fell on my cheek. It ran down my neck like a cold, intrusive and unwelcome finger. The consistency of the air changed, heralding a thunderstorm. I hurried for a bus shelter, glad that I spotted one across the street just a few minutes ago.

The change was slight but noticeable. People began to walk briskly, lengthening their pace, and umbrellas appeared as if from nowhere. Taxi drivers looked out their windows, faces eager for rain-fearing customers, anticipating a good haul.

I was so preoccupied with the sky that I almost tripped over a large bundle of rags at the edge of the sidewalk. Annoyed, I started to step over it, when it spoke out to me in a heavy accent. "Hey, got any change?"

Reeling back, I stepped away warily. The bundle unwrapped itself, standing up to reveal a short, untidy man, his beard and hair unkempt, his eyes nestled within like glowing coals. "Got any change?"

He was close enough to smell, and my mind was distracted from his question by his stale stench. Trying to suppress a cough, I shook my head in the universal symbol for "No."

For a few seconds, he stood there, hand outstretched. I could count the wrinkles in his palm. Then he dropped it to his side, turning away from me. I breathed a short sigh of relief, and started to walk away. But before I could, he looked back at me with an odd expression on his face.

"You're very lucky." he said, before disappearing into the crowd.

The quarter in my pocket suddenly felt very heavy.

Am I lucky? I mused to myself, my pace slowing. I've been down there before, long ago. Have I forgotten my roots? My values? Maybe I'm comparing myself to the wrong people. My problems are tough, but I've been through worse and survived, haven't I? I'll be okay.

With a sudden crash, the rain came pouring down. Within seconds, I was soaked, but I still felt like the luckiest person on earth.

Chance

Okay, my life has recently been a whirlwind of confusion, and parallels.

My sister told this guy she liked him, and unfortunately, the guy in question hasn't brought up the subject since. So for the past few weeks I've been dealing with an angst-ridden teenage girl asking me for advice, and questions I really don't have answers to.

The strange thing is, I'm sort of in the same position. There's two forces pulling me in two different directions. One is from the past, urging me to go back and try again, and one is from the future, pulling me forward into new experiences.

Problem: Either way I go, I have a chance of success and a chance of failure. Do I go with my comfort zone and with something I already know, or do I take a risk and chance it with something new?

And my fucking friends. "You decide." "It's up to you." "Follow your heart." Dammit you guys are assholes. It doesn't help that it's exactly what I used to say to you, and now you're just throwing it back in my face. Shit.

Bad Timing

Alright this is going to be pretty dramatic and long-winded, but I really need to get it out.


I never really got over you. When you told me things weren't going to work out, I pushed everything to the side and just agreed. I didn't ask why, because I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. I wasn't going to push the issue, because it was hard for both of us.

But I never really accepted how I felt. I just covered it up with a bandage, and the wound never healed. And when I saw you the other day, something inside me tore open, releasing everything I'd kept locked away. Everyone faded away, and all I could see was your eyes, connected to mine.

The moment passed and I looked away awkwardly, gave you a weird hug, and hurried back to my friends. But I can't lie to myself and deny what I felt. I still feel something in the pieces of my broken mind.

I can deal with it now. I still love you, but I can let you go.

...

Life has terrible timing. I set my sights on a girl who seems so oblivious to my existence, and I'm striving for something I don't think I can reach. This is after I break someone's heart, because I can't be who I am inside without hurting her. And here comes the past, stirring up feelings I thought I had forgotten. Thank you.

And what do I do now? Do I continue to reach for someone just beyond my grasp? Do I go back and struggle to reglue a broken heart? Or do I give in and fall again for someone who told me that things couldn't work?

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCC***************

Conversation: Episode One

Imran: There's a dark place in my mind where fat people reside.

Justin: Man, you white people got owned.
Jon: Actually, black people got owned. Literally.

Justin: Cabasil? In milkshakes?
Jon: Yeah, it's also the stuff they put in diapers.
Justin: I eat a lot of diapers.
Jon: Maybe you should try taking them off the baby first.

Justin: You can be ho, or mo. Pick one.
Marco: ho.
Justin: Why you would pick that one is beyond my understanding.

Jon: I'm white, I know my boats.
Justin: I'm Chinese. Boats only mean freedom to me.

Random guy: Hey, close your eyes, I'm going to show you my secret handshake.
Colin: Oh no, he's going to pull out his penis.

Jon: Jesus could turn water into wine.
Justin: I can turn beer into pee.

Lisa: This tastes like I'm drinking a tree.

Justin: I play video games like your mom sucks dick. Fast, hard, and obsessively.

Jon: Alright, let's go. I gotta go home and beat the fire turtle.
Justin: Hahaha, with your Dragon sword!
Jon: Hahaha, with my Dragon fang and Tiger claw!

Imran: So I was mowing my lawn and I ran over a butterfly. It was sad, but I was thinking how it was a metaphor for progress. You know, stand in the way of progress and you get crushed.
Justin: ...
Imran: (five minutes later) But goddamn, my lawn looked nice though.

Justin: I once almost kissed a girl. But then she woke up. And then I woke up.

Justin: But the Daedalus has Asgard technology.
Jon: Yeah, but the Enterprise will just use its matter transporters and fucking beam the Daedalus' engines into space. Point.
Josh: You guys are fucking sad.

Justin: Son.
Jim: I'm older than you.
Justin: Trouble with a time machine and a contraceptive.

Katrina: You're a hobo. A mad, mad vagrant.
Justin: Why thank you. You smell like old people and soap!

Justin: You hot.
Aaron: ...
Justin: You HOST. Host. That was a bad typo.

Justin: I love Diablo II.
Westley: RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY! This is for you. HELP!
Justin: Forgive me! DIE! TIME TO DIE! FOLLOW ME!

Alex: SON!
Lisa: Son! Aw DAMMIT!
Justin: (jumping out from behind Alex) SON!
Lisa: ARRGHHH FUCK YOU GUYS!

Justin: Hey, you know that Corn Nuts snack?
Aaron: Yeah?
Justin: So how do they make those? Do they chop the testicles off poor helpless corn?
Aaron: Holy shit.

Justin: They are the best.
Aaron: They are the bestest.
Justin: Bestestes. Bes Testes!
Aaron: That is a king one-liner, because only a king is allowed to say it.
Justin. The King of the Bes Testes?
Aaron: Or just King Bes Testes.
Justin: That is our new mascot.

Aaron: I don't know what lactose does to lactose intolerant people.
Justin: It turns them into Bes Testes.

Aaron: Do we have a zombie quarantine room?
Justin: I got one. It's a little small though. Hold down the lid and flush.

Nicole: Brb, I'm going to make a hotdog. And think of you.
Justin: It's not a tiny one, right? Or I'll go buy some yeast and think of you.

Justin: Brb, poop.

Justin: I got a girlfriend.
Nicole: Does she know you're going to eat her heart eventually?

Nicole: And so he calls me.
Justin: Wow. Is he hot? Does he have abs like Superman? Are his hands big and not sweaty at all? Does he use his spit for hair gel? CAN HE STRANGLE A COBRA WITH HIS DICK? CAN HE FLY?
Nicole: Yes. Yes he can fly.

Nicole: I'll steal your cherry.
Justin: Are you going to mail me a fucking pussy?
Nicole: Yes.
Justin: That would be weird. Especially if my mom got the mail first.

John: Miss, can you get my friend a napkin? He's emo, I don't want him to cut himself.
Waitress: Yeah, sure, I wouldn't want him to cry.
Justin: Johnny, you're a fucking dick.

Jacq: Gerengtee can wan. No probrem.
Justin: Aiya can cannot lah.
Jacq: Yes, must repeat words wan, then only can really really understand one.
Justin: I have the sudden urge to strip down to my underwear and drive a motorbike down to the transvestite hawker stall to buy some satay. Then go back to my shop, where I sell toys and cigarettes, with my portable fan and incense sticks.

Justin: That's the best idea I've heard all day. But considering the fact that I just woke up...

Justin: I woke up, said "Fuck class" and went back to sleep.
Jacq: Yeah I know. But it makes me feel better saying it.
Justin: It makes me feel better saying I'm Spiderman, but it doesn't make it true. Sadly.

Justin: What do they do with the foreskins? Do they keep them in a jar? Do they smell them? Do they put them on a little string and wear them around their -
Jay: No. You need to stop talking now.

Justin: I wonder if there are foreskin vampires that swoop down and bite people's foreskins off.
Jay: I need to put this conversation on facebook.

Leanne: Why can't the world just end so nothing will exist?
Justin: Because then you wouldn't be around to complain about it.

Shane: Hey. Hello. Hey.
Shane: Hi. How are you?
Shane: How is everything?
Shane: What's up?
Shane: How's Mac?
Shane: Nice. Sweet.
Shane: Nice talking to you. We should do it again sometime.

Justin: If there's one thing I've learned, it's don't be Dan.
Squirt: Dan?
Justin: Dan. Dan the garbage man. Be Pat.
Squirt: Pat?
Justin: Postman Pat. Postman Pat and his Black and White Cat.

Justin: 4 people I know died in the last month.
Squirt: Geeze.
Justin: That's a new record. Like they say in Smash Bros.

Justin: 9.0 on my prelab?! If this was Dancing with Stars MAYBE I'd be happy.

Jenn: I'm leaving at noon and getting back at 11:30.
Justin: Where exactly do you live? China?

Jenn: Avez vous un partinaire for p03 excel shizzle?
Justin: O_o
Jenn: Translation: do you have a partner for the p03 excel shit.
Justin: Oui. Ah em veree sorree?
Jenn: You speak French so well!
Justin: ARRRGGGHHHH A MONGOOSE GOT ME



And that's the end of episode one. Be back later for more of my stupid, stupid life.

Lines

Bloo bloo blah blah lookit me I'm Justin I'm so smart but can't figure out how to keep raccoons away from my garbage bins bloo blargh blee blah bloo.

Ironically, the one time I want to go home is the one time no one is free to pick me up.

I don't know how many people actually read this slice-of-life blog on a regular basis.

Justin says:
I told a random stranger to protect his family today.
Justin says:
My life has gotten fucked up.
quynh says:
y you did that?
Justin says:
It was funny.
Justin says:
Lol.
quynh says:
how?
Justin says:
I don't know. I'm so alone.

In addition, it's a good thing human girls don't have venomous stingers, huh?

Or do they?! Man, if that's true, we dudes are all screwed. Literally.

By big fucking stingers in the ass.

Whew

A recap of the last few days:

Friday's exam went reasonably well, although the material was a lot harder than what was on the regular tests. It figures that our prof would quite literally dick us over by instilling a false sense of security throughout the year. I'm sure I still passed the course, which is a relief because if I ever have to take that motherfucking sonabitch class ever again I'll have to falcon punch a mongoose in the face.

After that tragedy of an exam, I made an appearance at WestEnd, and opted for a glass of water instead of alcohol (see previous posts). I didn't see any point in staying, so leaving the bar early, I hung out with Jon, James and Imran, and then spent an hour helping Imran look for his lost car keys (which happened to have fallen into the couch).

Yesterday (Saturday) was the yearly event known as Catapult, where we decide on Frosh Week themes and events. It was held at Brant Park, and although the weather was supposed to be shit, it cleared up and I spent the day swimming (the water was frigid like your mother's kiss) and playing ultimate frisbee (where Jon inadvertently did the splits). As promised, I brought my guitar and spent a good solid hour making music with my friends.

Unfortunately, things went slightly downhill at the night's kegger. I contemplated skipping it, considering the fact that I wasn't drinking, but I decided to go to meet some new people, especially the new Reds that I'll be working with this September. First off, I broke the G-string on my guitar (thereby becoming a cheap joke), then spent the rest of the night running after people as usual. I was reasonably upset by the number of problems that went down, mainly the typical relationship issues, magnified by alcohol.

I mean, seriously, things are so overly dramatic. I know it's pretty hypocritical of me to say this, considering my life is a veritable whirlwind of drama, but people need to learn some control. There are a number of people who lose themselves, and alcohol aside, they really should know better. I mean, if you have a girlfriend, flirting with other women isn't really helping things, and on top of that, you can't blame someone else for your own behaviour, right? And if you regret sleeping with that guy, why would you do it again? Considering the fact that I was the one you spent an hour ranting to, it would be a pretty dick move to do it AGAIN. Your actions affected my mood, and a lot of first years noticed I was being somewhat of a dick because of it. I don't like letting my mood affect others - I usually make it a point to hide my feelings but last night was just a LOT.

Thanks a lot to Jackie for giving me a little bit of an ego boost, even though I'm definitely not as nice as you make me out to be. Also to Spackman, for giving me the 'sit down and stop caring' talk, even though I might not have listened. And Udit, for doing what needed to be done in my place. And of course, to all of the rest of you that were just there for me. There's a lot of shit going on my life right now and I'm glad some people truly appreciate me for me.

And that is that. I spent the day cleaning my house, because I'm going home tomorrow. I'm going to fucking miss Hamilton.

You Trust This Guy?

The current state of my life:

Exam on Friday which I'm having trouble studying for. Fell down the stairs last night. Talking to girl whose boyfriend is a possible dick. Talking to boy whose ex-boyfriend is a definite dick. Talking to boy whose friends are possible dicks (including me, sorry). Need a haircut. Room smells like birdshit. Dishes need washing. Incomplete job applications. Office needs cleaning.

I think I need to write the following essay for everybody. Check it out:

=======
Justin says:
I kind of hate to say this... but if he knew you well enough, you wouldn't have to say anything. He'd just know.
Justin says:
Compromise needs to work both ways.
Justin says:
Don't ever change yourself into someone you're not.
***@hotmail.com says:
but I did
***@hotmail.com says:
and I can't seem to make him see me otherwise... I completely lost myself this year
=======

I think people inherently know the right thing to do. The problem is finding the courage to do it. Sometimes life can get really confusing and terrible, but giving up is pointless. Death may come eventually, but accelerating the process is a dumb idea. Difficulty makes the heart grow stronger. Don't ever forget that the least person has a place in someone's heart, and though you might not see it, you're important.

We'll never be perfect. People who say they've fulfilled every one of their goals are the walking dead - they don't have anything left to strive for. There is no way you'll ever reach all your goals, because you'll keep setting new ones. It's how we grow as people. The day you're satisfied with yourself is the day you die because really, what else is there to do? Remember that when you think you've failed - there's no such thing as failure, because every step backwards is a learning experience. Hope is useless, you can't rely on hope because nothing will ever get done. The only way shit will happen is if you stop hoping and start doing.

The uber-hotdog won't make your life perfect, but it's pretty damn close.

=======
justinsma@gmail.com Man, c'mon. What are you afraid of?
***@gmail.com like...ppl treating me differently
justinsma@gmail.com HAHAHAHA
justinsma@gmail.com Man, some people, maybe
justinsma@gmail.com but c'mon, me?
justinsma@gmail.com I'm a freak anyways
=======

Relax. Life is life. There's nothing we can do to change the past. The only thing that matters is NOW, and what you're going to do about it. I may be a huge hypocrite, but remember: you can't change the past, but you can ruin the future by worrying about it. This applies for everybody, whether they choose to accept it or not. Difficulties make you a better person.

You're trusting this guy with your problems?

There are a million things I can say to you all, but ultimately, the decision is yours. I can only advise, I can't tell you what to do, or force you down the right path. People who say they know what to do are liars, and anyways, being perfect is overrated. In any case, I'm not a professional psychiatrist, but I'll do my best to be there when shit hits the fan.

I love you guys but sometimes you can be huge idiots =)


P.S. I find it slightly depressing that you guys are coming to ME for help. Me, the depressed jackass who has a noted and well-documented history of licking cats and taking pictures of crotches. What the hell is wrong with you?

P.S.S. Andrew and Shani are right, my bones are fucking brittle. Look at my wrists! They're like pencils!

Back Again

Okay. The ordeal is over, and now I'm back to my usual sassy and bass-ackward self.

Summer school is almost done, and I'm going back to Sauga <3 very soon. Chances are, I'll grab a short-term job before flying my ass all the way to Vancouver for my cousin's wedding. I also found out that Spirit of the West and a number of fantastic artists are playing on Jericho Beach, just a short ride from the hotel *thumbs up* on July 20th, a few days after I arrive. On top of that, I am apparently being kidnapped to go rock climbing with Mr. Shim. Looking forward to breaking my arms.

I learned how to play the song 'Still Alive' from Portal. The cake is a lie! I'm contemplating playing it with Ms. Howe and perhaps Mr. Heywood at Westend. Which brings me to my next point: my guitar will be making an appearance at Catapult (our Red summer event) on the special request of Mike Everson (I lost the Game). Hopefully it'll draw me away from the alcohol craziness that will undoubtedly go down that night. Since I'm not drinking anymore, I think I should stay away from the influence - peer pressure and all that shit. Gahblahblahblah.

Life is definitely looking up. Maybe it's just the contrast to the last few weeks, but I've become more goal oriented lately. No more fucking around doing useless shit, I'm setting out what I want to do and then by Gandhi I'm going to execute it. This involves learning contact juggling, doing a backflip, wall-running, playing Freebird's solo, and by the end of summer I'm going to be MacGuyver. You have my word. And my bow. And my axe. /lotr reference

You should have used the Pythagorean theorem... BITCH! HALALALALALA!!!



P.S. I've been really crazy lately. I blame it on my mental state. I take no responsibility for the following actions which I may or may not have done: excessive texting, swearing in chinese, trying to climb a wall with my face, breaking the strap holder on my guitar, repeated internet memes, stabbing Mark Hayman, buying a Nintendo DS, beating Guitar Hero on hard difficulty, eating a can of wasabi peas, trying to combine Mac and Cheese with chili beans, falling out of love, falling back in love, falling in general, talking to birds, drinking too much water then needing to go pee badly, watching Don't Mess with the Zohan with Quynh, chasing centipedes with a vacuum cleaner, writing horrible poetry, being morose, dipping oreos in whiskey, torture of barbie dolls, modifying of nerf guns, constructing a steampunk watch, inviting strangers to my house, inviting non-strangers to my house, playing with swords in my backyard, walking around at midnight wearing all-black clothing, writing sad letters then crumpling them up, devouring bowls of ice cream, organizing my sock drawer, folding my bedsheets twice, letting people draw on my arms, hanging out with GTCMNC, eating soup with a fork, and so on. NOT MY FAULT.

/ignore

Please ignore the previous post because I was being a whiny bitch. Everything is back under control.

No More of This SHIT

I went to see that Zohan movie with Quynh today, and we ended up talking afterwards at a park. I can give out advice to everyone but myself, so when things fuck up in my life, I turn to my friends.

Life still hurts. Father's Day sucks just as much, considering it's a week after. But let me set things straight here: I'm not a victim. I'm a survivor, and there's no way I'm taking shit lying down.

100% seriously, wow. Not a single one of my so-called 'friends' decided to check up on me, except the ones that matter most. Thanks though, I'm fine. It's bullshit, you know? After events, I spend the time to text and say, "Hey, did you get home okay?" and only a small handful even respond. But when I walk a fucking hour back to my house while piss drunk, who cares? I COULD DIE AND NOT ONE OF YOU WOULD NOTICE.

No, I don't get mad easily. But I spend my life and my time dedicated to my friends, and BULLSHIT if anyone gives a fuck about me. Yeah sure, I'll skip out on parties to spend time with those that need me, but does it even matter? 5 seconds out of your undoubtedly busy life to check if I'm still alive and I can count the number of those people on one hand. Thanks for being there! Yeah, really! I REALLY APPRECIATE THE FUCKING EFFORT.

No, my standards aren't high. I don't expect much from my friends. I'm happy just to have friends. But use me and abuse me and I'll fucking break our bond like a twig. I'm not your tool, and I'm definitely not your toy. I'm fed up of all of you. Yeah, I have friends I haven't spoken to in years, but I know they're my friends. How? First of all, they value me as a person, not an object, and I swear that my real friends will read this blog and come give me a hug, either real or virtual. Because I'm in a fucking mess right now.

Oh, yeah, sure, Justin's cool but he's a closet friend - he's only my friend when no one else is around. Well, fuck you. I get it. Out of all the fish in the sea, why pick the broken one, right? Thanks guys, I'll just sit at home, dealing with shit like a grown-up, while you fucking party it up. Yes, I'm immensely jealous - none of you have to deal with the crap of being a father figure in your sister's life, or fixing the things your dad would normally do, and the millions of other things that just suck in general. WHOOP DE FUCKING DOO.

I got drunk one night, and one of my friends dragged me to his house, gave me a garbage bin, a loaf of bread, a glass of water, and let me crash on his couch. Another friend drove a full hour, round-trip to Hamilton, to pick me up so I could see my sick grandma. Someone else gave up a full night of sleep to stay in the park with me while I just let my heart out. A number of my friends spend every day with me for a year going to McDonald's and wherever the hell we felt like going and we never got sick of each other. Another spent over a year planning a graphic novel with me, spilling our hearts onto the paper. One of my friends has stuck with me since the day we were born. The ones who sit with me when I ditch a party that disturbs me. THERE ARE A HANDFUL OF PEOPLE LIKE THAT: FUCKING RIGHT THOSE ARE MY FRIENDS AND THE REST OF YOU BASTARDS ARE ASSHOLES.

Yes, this is a rant. It's a huge rant. I'm fucking pissed off at the world this weekend, and the changing loyalties of my friends. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of smiling and dealing with your problems and then getting left in the dirt. I can only hope that when I graduate, I'll go where my heart leads me while you guys are still stuck back in fucksville, making out like high school kids on Ecstasy. GROW UP.

I wonder if any of you even think of me when you're out having a blast. I've bent over backwards to prove my friendship - what have you done to prove yours? Fucking hate you. Best part is, you won't notice a thing. I'll keep on smiling and laughing and you won't know how much I hate you.


That's it. GTCNCNC is right. I'm going to watch the sunrise. Eat my cereal. Lie awake in bed. The small things in life will be my muse. Sand through my toes and the sky over my head. I don't need people in my life. The world, and my place in it, will be enough.

Reaching Out

Problem.

I'm slowly getting really sick of the 'politics' of friendship. There's just so much backstabbing and hurt going around, and it's making me twitch. I spent 3 hours the other day talking to a friend who is slowly giving up on life, because her friends decided to drop her like a bad egg. I don't like seeing my friends hurt.

Observation: popularity has its cons. A lot of people I know are popular, whether they know it or not. They don't need to find friends - friends come to them. The phone rings every day for these people, inviting them out to lunch, or to the bar, etc etc. That's not a bad thing, it's good to have friends, and I'm not arguing that. No, it's when these people lose track of themselves that it starts to bother me immensely.

Yay POPULAR!

Being popular results in a lot of attention. You can be attractive, or rich, or cool, or just plain friendly. People will flock to you like flies to honey. Sooner or later, someone will call and invite you out. Everyone clamors for your attention, to have some time to spend with you. Basically, you don't need to try to find friends, because they come to you. With all the events flying at you, you tend to forget people. It's just a fact I've noticed.

I've been slowly rising up the social ladder recently. With my new Plumbline position, I've had a number of strangers call my name across the room, and I'm always pleasantly surprised. Being a Red, I've met a lot of people too, and I'm slowly becoming 'popular'. It's scary but I'm kind of liking it. People know who I am, which is pretty cool.

But I've been at the bottom of the pile. I remember being in high school, waiting for weeks, without ever going out. Sitting alone during lunch. Spending nights alone in a cold backyard, wishing someone would call and say, "Hey, let's hang out." But not until the end did I ever find friends. No, I wasn't popular at all. I was a loser. A nerd, geek, freak. No one ever called me, and I was too scared to reach out.

HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY

I'm determined not to lose track of who I am, no matter how high I rise. When I go out, I'll skim through my contact list and run by all the cool kids. I'll pick people who are like me, alone and in the dark, waiting for that call to brighten their week. To make an effort to contact those that really would value friendship. I won't lose sight of everyone else - I promise.

So sue me. I'm an idiot. But I'll be an idiot with friends.

People like this should not be allowed in public.

Edit: Big thanks to those other retards that brought me up out of my misery. You know who you are. FOOD RUN!

Synopsis of a Day

Woke up at noon, went outside and tore up the lawn exercising. Called Kath n' Linds and met them in Westdale for a pita. Saw their house, obviously nicer than the old one, but too far to stalk them anymore (sorry girls). Went back home and Alex was there with a few friends. He sonned me and we played some Guitar Hero. We went to Tim Hortons and I bought an ice cap and some timbits. We drove up to Spencer Gorge (see facebook photos) and had an adventure. Afterwards, we went to Montfort's and had an awesome dinner. I laughed a lot and kept myself busy, but I have a test tomorrow which I will most likely phail.

It was a good day.

Tomorrow I'll wake up at 10, eat a tasty breakfast consisting of Frosted Flakes and lasagna, go outside and do some flips, go back inside and play some (real) guitar, go to class, study, fail my test, then bus home to Sauga for my Sat morning eye doctor's appointment. Not counting all the craaaaaazyyyy adventures I will most likely have in between. A WINNER IS ME!

40 Tips for 2008

(Thanks to Bianca for forwarding this to me. Great advice as follows)

1. Take a 10-30 minute walk every day. And while you walk, smile. It is the ultimate anti-depressant.

2. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day. Buy a lock if you have to.

3. Buy a DVR and tape your late night shows and get more sleep.

4. When you wake up in the morning complete the following statement, 'My purpose is to __________ today.'

5. Live with the 3 E's -- Energy, Enthusiasm, and Empathy.

6. Play more games and read more books than you did in 2007.

7. Make time to practice meditation, yoga, tai chi, and prayer. They provide us with daily fuel for our busy lives.

8. Spend more time with people over the age of 70 and under the age of 6.

9. Dream more while you are awake.

10. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants.

11. Drink green tea and plenty of water. Eat blueberries, wild Alaskan salmon, broccoli, almonds & walnuts.

12. Try to make at least three people smile each day.

13. Clear clutter from your house, your car, your desk and let new and flowing energy into your life.

14. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip, energy vampires, issues of the past, negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.

15. Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.

16. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a college kid with a maxed out charge card.

17. Smile and laugh more. It will keep the energy vampires away.

18. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

20. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

21. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

22. Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.

23. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

24. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

25. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: 'In five years, will this matter?'

26. Forgive everyone for everything.

27. What other people think of you is none of your business.

28. GOD heals almost everything.

29. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

30. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.

31. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

32. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

33. The best is yet to come.

34. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

35. Do the right thing!

36. Call your family often.

37. Each night before you go to bed complete the following statements: I am thankful for __________. Today I accomplished _________.

38. Remember that you are too blessed to be stressed.

39. Enjoy the ride. Remember this is not Disney World and you certainly don't want a fast pass. You only have one ride through life so make the most of it and enjoy the ride.

40. Please forward this to your friends.

The Aftermath

I spent 10 minutes looking at the word higher trying to figure out what hig-her meant. Fuck.

After inviting a number of people to come over and play with my Wii (no, that joke's not funny anymore, I know) and getting no response, I went out for a walk. The weather was light, sunny but breezy, and I contemplated the use of a jacket before deciding that was for n00bs. Went down to the school, fell asleep watching 'How It's Made' and then went home.

The above paragraph has a point, although it may seem random. I've been feeling apathetic lately (just recent events, see previous post) and it's causing me to behave really irrationally. I spent 4 hours swatting flies in my house (I think someone left food out) and then played Guitar Hero for a while, before playing real guitar. I ate an entire can of wasabi peas and devoured a plate of plain bread. My mind is wandering like a hitchhiker in the Appalachians.

Last week Friday I went out to WestEnd and Bianca's housewarming party, and I've never gotten drunker in my life. Lesson learned: never let Big D mix you a drink. I ended up sleeping on Jon's couch, throwing up and furiously swearing in Chinese. I probably said a number of things I wouldn't have said otherwise, and now Ashley (bartender at WestEnd) probably thinks I'm retarded. It was a bad move on my part and I think I'm going to cut myself off from alcohol for a while. Drinking to escape problems is a stupid thing to do and I went way overboard trying to forget.

So yeah. As of late, my behaviour has been really stupid and I've done a lot of things I wouldn't have done otherwise. I hate apologizing for it again, but I'm sorry. It's just beyond my control, and I'm probably going to be this way at least until Father's Day (which is pretty shit in itself too). I promise I'll be back on my feet eventually, but until then you guys are going to have to put up with my bullshit.

Last thing of note: Vote for Optimus Prime.

8 Years

Deathcab AND Stars are playing today in downtown T.O. and I'm sure it's fucking amazing. But I won't be there. There's too much at stake this weekend.

***

I'm in my living room, staring mindlessly out the window. The day is beautiful - there's sunlight, birds singing, not a cloud in sight - but there's nothing the weather can do to chase away the shadows inside. I sigh, turning away from the outside, and close my eyes for a few seconds.

A loud crack breaks the silence, snapping my eyelids open. At first, the source of the noise isn't apparent, but as I look around, my own reflection catches my eye in the glass. A long gash runs up the side of my face, from temple to jawline, reflected with shuddering detail in the windowpanes.

I reach up with a shaking hand and run my finger along the gap. There's no blood, but as my fingertip touches the crack, it quickly propagates across my face. Within seconds, my reflection is scored with jagged lines, as if my body is falling apart. I hold my breath, and I can hear my heart pounding underneath my shirt. I'm afraid to move.

I gasp, a tiny intake of air, but that's all it takes. Pieces of my skin start falling away - not down, as dictated by gravity, but up, towards the ceiling. Like wallpaper and sand, my body erases itself, and I watch my reflection in horror as something moves under my rapidly dissolving skin.

And it's not just me. The yellow paint on the wall cracks and turns to dust, and a dusty shade of pink appears underneath, a pink I recognize. My heart seizes. Not now. Not this. Like ashes blown by a chill wind, the room begins to erode.

I look at my reflection again. There's something underneath my skin. With trembling fingers I brush the pieces away from my face, unveiling whatever is hiding below. At first I don't understand what I'm seeing, but as the face of a 12-year-old boy is uncovered, I almost scream.

It's me. I look at myself in the window's cold reflection, a version of me from 8 years in the past. I press my fingertips against the glass and my mirror image does the same. The room is still changing around me - furniture is rearranged, paint flies away, decorations resort themselves. It's like being in a time machine, except I know exactly where I'm going, and I don't want to.

Everything stops. I'm breathing heavily, looking at my small hands in disbelief. My reflection stares back at me, wide-eyed and grim-faced. The room is pink, dusty, and unorganized, exactly as I remember it. Everything is the way it was that day. 8 years.

I hear footsteps, and I look up. My heart stops because I know what's coming, I know exactly what's coming, and it's going to be the hardest thing to endure. I close my eyes and still my trembling fingers. I need to be strong. That's what they all said. I need to be strong.

My mother walks in, and my sister follows. I forgot that she had that ridiculous haircut, but she didn't have much reason to style it. My sister, 9 years old, is a far cry from the 16-year-old she is today. But she looks exactly as I remember back then. She's shaking, and she sits down next to me. My mother puts herself into the armchair across, visibly trying to conceal her emotions. Like me, she needs to be strong. She has to be.

I know what's coming, but I'm unable to stop it. I clench my fists, breathing in short gasps, repeating my mantra: I need to be strong. I need to be strong. IneedtobestrongIneedtobestrongIneedtobestrong...

Then my mother says the three words that will, over the next 8 years, doom me to a half-life, a partly meaningless existence, with a broken heart and broken mind. "He is gone."

I remember screaming, but reliving it is terrifying. The shriek that comes out of my mouth is inhuman. I didn't even think a person could make such a sound and still live. I scream and scream until my voice grows hoarse and my body collapses, until I almost pass out. My eyes are closed because I don't want to see the truth. The sound of my voice alone should have been enough to drag a soul back from the grave, but it isn't. I fall back, breathing, crying, sobbing. Part of me has just died.

When I open my eyes, I'm sitting on the couch again. The room is yellow, the couches are clean, the day is bright. My reflection looks back at me, the 20-year-old with a vacant stare and sweat dotting his forehead. My cheeks are wet with tears and I raise my hand to them, cold and shaking. 8 years. Never gets any easier to live through. Welcome to my Nightmare, I whisper to myself, bitterly.

No, I'm not going out today. He'll never be there to see me graduate. Never be there to see me get married. He'll never meet his grandchildren, never teach them what he taught me so long ago. He'll never whisper in my ear again. Never see the man I've become.

Are you proud of me daddy? It hurts so much.

Broken

"If everyday life and everyday people and the everyday world had a color, it would be grey. Mundanity.

monday-tuesday-wednesday-thursday-friday-saturday-sunday-
work-kids-husband-school-girlfriend-bills-car-house-blind date-bar-
traffic jams-cramps-laundry-balance checkbook-dog-carpool-vet trips-
shower-shopping-sandwiches-weddings-funerals-routines-patterns-
- - -

Everything runs together in one dull blur, moving so fast all color is lost and only grey results. No black, no white, no color, just grey. Grey like fog like clouds like dusk like cities like concrete like everything...

Life gets so wrapped up in itself, in its mundaneness, most people forget there were such things as color, and light. Most people are so full of their own normalcy there is room for nothing else.

It's the "cracked" ones, the ones society says is 'broken' and 'wrong' and 'mistakes' and everything else unnatural and unfamiliar, it's oftentimes the "crazy" ones, the weird the bizarre the fringes... it's they who remember what color is.

The hippie mom who still wears gypsy skirts and bandanas to pick up carpool. The businessman who reads comics on the subway during his commute to work. The crazy aunt who the parents hate but the children adore because her house is magical somehow, childready and free. The man who keeps company only with his hawks because they are noble and true and do not betray him as his "fellow" humans do. The librarian who still secretly splashes in rain puddles when no one is looking.

The ones who are in some way free. The ones who are still childlike in awe in their heats. The ones who remember there is something other to life than the grey grind of concrete, day after day. They hae a crack in that grey exterior, somewhere, and let colors shine through them... colors of life...

Rose glasses... the blue of the ocean... the green of the grass...
the oranges and pinks of the sunset... the yellow of a field of dasies... the briliant red of a cardinal.

They remember this color, and they in their lives reflect it, through their "broken" pieces. And all colors together... all colors blended together... give pure white light. It is these that join together and let light into the world."

- Wuukiee, Everything2.com