My Disjointed Ramblings

What is Art?

2009-05-25T10:09:00.002-03:00

Art is a burning building. Art is a man taking a crap in the middle of a freeway. Art is anything that sends a message be it a grand "f*** you" or a profound sentiment.

A signed toilet turned on end. A sculpture made from duct tape and toilet paper. Complete trash, but some regard it as pure expression. We're a flawed species, but this is what we do.

Thought experiment.

2009-02-18T01:50:00.005-04:00

A thought struck me today. We, that's all of us, every single little one, are living in a social experiment.

"Hey. Let's put a bunch of rats in a maze, and see what they'll do."

"Hey. Let's put a bunch of apes on a ball of rock, and see what happens."

And that frustrates and horrifies me. Like anyone else, I don't want to be some expendable data point. Why? Who knows? But trying to rebel, trying to avoid society and all the offending, "socializing" factors would make me just that. Another point on a graph, because what is avoiding it all than just another reaction to a stimulus?

Any action taken would provide a result, and I don't want to do that. The sad part is, not wanting to provide anything provides everything. So what's a guy to do?

---

Now, if there truly is anyone, anything, any indefinable observer out there, I want to do something, anything, that would mess up the data or otherwise be unanalyzable. How about informing people everywhere? If you know you're being experimented on, it WILL change the results of it. But who's going to listen to someone raving about otherworldly observers? They'll regard this as yet another stimuli: humankind's socialized reaction to the unknown. Good God, more data.

Now if anyone actually reads this, leave a comment, what could you do? In what way could you resist this observation, these experimenters? And a question even I haven't answered for myself yet: Why would you resist in the first place?

I want it all to burn.

2009-02-10T01:52:00.000-04:00

I want the world to end in fire. I want it to end in bright flames and harsh noises. I wish no ill will to anyone, but I want it all to be ended. Not my life, not anything like that, that's just totally depressing. I just want to see the waste, and the excess, and I want to see it all engulfed in that bright and shiny flickering.

I don't want my family to be left behind, I don't want my friends, and everyone I dearly love to be gone. But I want to walk the endless tracts of ash and dark. And that kind of walking warrants no company.

Chernobyl's Zone of Alienation? I want to live there. And I want it to be hidden. I want to explore Prypiat. I want to float off to Gunkanjima, Japan. Famagusta, Cyprus. Kowloon Walled City in China.

Of the whole world, I want a modern-day Pompeii.

These pictures are beautiful to me.

Don't ask me why.

So if you ever see an abandoned building, or an empty warehouse, or a old rundown house, find me, bring me to it, and come explore it with me. Or if that's not possible, take pictures, show me, tell me where it is. I'll go there myself when I can.

I'll show you how beautiful it can be. And you too can be doomed-blessed-cursed-fortuned to walk there alone.

Why? No clue.

2009-02-04T01:40:00.002-04:00

I haven't posted in over a year. One of my last three posts or so was saying I was coming back.

I didn't.

I'm not going to say I'll come back again. I don't want to make that mistake. But I want to make an attempt at it.

I hate you all. I love you all.

See you soon?

Sick

2008-02-06T15:12:00.000-04:00

Being sick sucks. It really does. And especially if you have infectious mononucleosis.

See, I've been lying on my couch, about twelve hours a day, every day, for the past, oh, ten days or so. It has its ups and downs though. I mean, I've had lots of spare time, and no classes. So I could get something productive done, right? Nope. Wrong. The only thing I've done is watch movies and the same TV over and over again, with a little MSN-time thrown in here and there. Well, that and read Slash's autobiography.

But last night I realized I could actually do something. So I dug out my jump drive and started writing in my book again. And I even got about 300 words written. Which is surprising with this laptop's keyboard, since the letters e, r, n, a, and the space bar don't even work half the time. For exampl, I wo't go back ad editthis section of text: The quick bow fox jumpd ovr he lazy dog. Yeah. It's bad.

So. I hit the hay last night and woke up this morning (at 1:00) ready to get to creating. But it's now ten after four in the afternoon and I haven't written a word. Why? I dunno. But I can tell you that it's annoying.

So I'm lying here, sick, bored, unable to write, eating a peanut-butter-powdered-chocolate-and-marshmallow sandwich. And there's only one person in the entire world that I wanna see right now. But you wanna know what? I can't see her. And it's all because of her crazy mother, thinking that she's going to get infected somehow, so I'm off limits. But see the thing is with mono, it's fluid transmission only! That means that the only way she could get it is by a full-on make out session, or by sharing our lipstick... Yeah. Feel the sarcasm drip from your screen people. And for the former, please, I'm not a child. I can contain myself enough to not draw on the walls, so gimmie a little leeway here, 'kay? Yeah, thanks.

Being sick. It sucks.

In My Disappearance.

2008-01-08T19:00:00.000-04:00

So, now that we've established that I am back, still writing, and have not fallen off the face of the planet, you can catch up on my life. Boring I know, but I feel the need to talk, so here goes.

My last post, before this month, was on November 12th. That would make two months this Saturday. That's much too long for my liking. So let's see if I can remember anything from November.

The band played another show, this time it was the Hard Stone Cafe. And it was a good time, just me and Brad, but we rocked it. Then this dude Stewart Patten, from Brad's work, had been jamming with Brad a few times, and he came to band practise a few times, and so he eventually just became a part of the band.

School progressed as normal: torturously. An English presentation here, an essay there, and I got through. Somehow.

Then in December. The days leading up to Christmas break were... interesting, to say the least. There were a few amazing snow days, and a ton of lazy classes, where nothing was really done. Except for those who had to present in World Issues, hah! I had the whole break to fine-tune my PowerPoint. Then there was the Variety Show. Oh wow. I was the Master of Ceremonies, the MC, for the entire show; along with my cohort, Sarah Wiseman. There were a few awkward spots, where we had nothing to say to fill in the space between acts. And one of my joke-plans didn't work out too well, but I just laughed it off, and it was fine. But I was told that I had seemed very confident on-stage. That's good. Especially for my first time up there, talking, in front of my entire school. Yeah, it was alright.

Then Christmas Break. I went shopping for presents, I ate chocolate, I spent time with family. And friends. Partying is always a fun time on the day before Christmas Eve. I gave a very special someone their present that day, and she loved it. I also asked her a question that wasn't answered for about a week afterwards... But more on that later.

Christmas was an amazing time. I got some clothes (Tye dye, of course. Plus some other cool stuff.), a ton of drumming equipment, some magic DVDs, and an Olympus camera with a 1G card for my upcoming trip to Europe this March. Hopefully this will mean pictures will be coming onto the blog at some point.

The entire holiday break was amazing. Hanging out with friends, using my presents like a mad man, basically having the time of my life.

And then on the 28th my question was answered. It was after seeing a movie with some friends, they had left and it was just me and her waiting for our drive home. Her answer? "Yes." My mood ever since? I couldn't be happier. The question? Well. I think you can answer that one for yourself.

Much love, my dear. (This is for one person in particular, if you didn't catch that general idea.)

That's all for now. I'll try to move away from my life, and get on to something a little different later on. Until then.

Anyone Out There? Hello...

2008-01-08T18:21:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I haven't written anything here in over a month. I thought it was about time to get back into the old habits of writing as much as possible, and as publicly as possible. Yeah, because I sure am going to be getting a huge readership over a simple little Blogger account. Not to knock the whole Blogger thing, but the main problem I see is in the templates. They are to blame for why most bloggers, that are in no way experts at getting hits, have a very small readership. And I'll tell you why.

There are a limited number of template arrangements for the Blogger platform. So that means when someone stumbles onto a Blogger page, they know it's a Blogger page. Now this doesn't have to be a bad thing; Blogger is an alright blogging platform to use. It's simple, easy to understand, it's enjoyable to use. And by that I mean it doesn't give me raging headaches when I post.

But getting back to Blogger pages being recognizable... when a user visits a web page, they'll only stay on that page, before moving on, if they're hooked into it in the first few seconds. Like a book, except a book is there on your shelf of a few dozen (Or in my case, hundred.) books, and the reader reads paragraphs before deciding. With a web page, the decision is even more abrupt. Three, maybe four seconds of reading, and if they don't like it, they're gone. And that book is filed away among billions of others, never to be found again. Or at least not likely.

Now this is the problem with Blogger pages. Yes, for those that use them, they're great! They're an easy-to-use, and highly simplistic way of doing your blogging work. (Although I have nothing to compare it to, this is my opinion until I find something better than Blogger.) But just take a few clicks on that "Next Blog" button at the top there. What do you get? Well, occasionally a real, useful, not-crap blog. But more often than not, you get sites that just serve to point links at money-generating sites; weird blogs filled with foreign languages; and really crappy, non-spellchecked, emo-kid diaries. And no one wants to read that.

An easy solution to this is to create a way for users to get right into the insides of their page, and to create their own layouts and designs. Or at least to mess around with the working templates. And guess what? They've done just that. Only downside to this plan? It requires extensive knowledge of HTML. And don't get me wrong, I really want to learn to use HTML. It's just that I have neither the time nor the energy to do so right now. Plus I honestly don't care. I don't need a massive readership at the moment, just a quaint two-to-three person following somewhere out there. Really, that's all I'm asking.

The Zombie Outbreak Preparedness Alliance

2007-11-12T21:24:00.000-04:00

So, after reading both "The Zombie Survival Guide" and "World War Z" by Max Brooks.. it's safe to say I'm a little paranoid now. Well, I already was, big deal. But you can also say I have a heightened interest in surviving possible zombie outbreaks. That's why I plan to start The Zombie Outbreak Preparedness Alliance. Or ZOPA for short.

Basically what ZOPA is is a group of people who want to help each other survive an outbreak of Z's. We're gonna rely heavily on The Zombie Survival Guide, teaching us about tactics and survival techniques, as well as weaponry. We'll be setting up and discovering potential safe spaces or "White Zones" throughout the city and how to fortify them in case of a class 2-3 outbreak. Also we'll find some "Gray Zones" that are in the vicinity of the White Zones to aid in protection on the way to them. Then we'll work together to get off-the-grid communication up. Such as lighting signal fires when all that were supposed to get to a certain Zone are there, and walkie-talkies for each group.

Each of us will be on a mailing list or something, we'll have each other's contact information, so we can alert one another to any possible covered-up outbreaks. Suspicious murder-suicides in which one person was eaten partially, or bitten, or multiple shots were fired with no effect. All signs of zombie activity.

We'll be meeting at lunch sometime in the coming week. Current members include me (Graeme), Marsha Hitchcock, Nicole Bordage, and anyone she decides on bringing. If anyone wants to attend the first ZOPA meeting, then contact me, and I'll tell you where/when as soon as I know.

Long live the human race! Down with the Z's! I'll update with more info soon.

Stuff? Yeah, I guess.

2007-10-26T14:02:00.000-03:00

So it's been a while, hasn't it? Yeah. Shut up. I'm lazy sometimes. I don't see you writing regularly (Except those of you who do.), so quit complaining. I have nothing really to rant about so I'll just write about stuff in my life. Sound good?

So Six Speed Coffin is gonna be performing at the Port City Cafe tonight. (For those reading this later on, this is Friday, October 26th. FYI, ya know?) It's at 7:30, and it's $5 at the door, at the Saint John Art's Center. Not bad for seeing multiple acts, PLUS free coffee, tea and cookies. We're gonna be doing a few of our previously performed songs, and some will be new. Wanna know what the songs will be? Well, you'll just have to come see us, now won't you?

It's unfortunate, though, that Saint John High's haunted house will be the same night. But oh well. I know a few people who are going to both, so it might not be too bad.

In other news, I started brining a notebook around with me, in case I got an idea for something, and didn't have anything else to write it down on. And it's all in one place, which is a plus. Now I can see just really how eccentric and eclectic my thoughts really are.

Sudden Thoughts

2007-10-16T18:51:00.000-03:00

People who are bad writers are as such because they don't understand the first thing about how writing works. The first thing to understand about how writing works is that no one understands how writing works.

Non-Reverse Un-Placebo?

2007-10-16T17:20:00.000-03:00

Dear Lordums, I think too much. This is what I came up with while randomly thinking the other day...

So you all know what a placebo is, right? Well, for those who don't, a placebo is a fakeout. In the medical community, a placebo is something like a sugar pill, or a saline injection; things that don't have any medical effect, but are given at random, with the real medications, to a set of test subjects. That gets rid of any effects that might subconsciously happen to the subjects of the drug. It lets the doctors see if it's the expectation of getting better that makes them better, or if it's the actual medication.

But you all know about being able to block out pain, mind-over-matter, healing by willpower, stuff like that. That summed up, is effects consciously happening to the subjects. That is opposed to the subconsciously happening effects of a placebo.

This train of thought led me to thinking about what mind-over-matter cures really are. Is it a self-induced placebo? You think that focusing your willpower to heal will heal you, so it actually does. But if you didn't really believe it would, then it wouldn't work. Ah, the Tinkerbell Effect at it's best.

I'm starting to understand Doublethink.

SJHS World Fair

2007-10-10T11:57:00.001-03:00

The World Fair's coming up. It's this Friday, for those who don't know yet, in the SJHS library. That's on the first floor. You should all turn up. For serious, I mean, you can buy tickets (1 for $1 and 3 for $2.) and you can use the tickets to buy all kinds of different foods from across the world that we made all by ourselves. With pure, 100% Canadian ingredients. Ironic, huh?

But seriously, it's all for a good cause. All our proceeds are being sent out to our foster child, Zenabu, in Dobe Toga, Ethiopia. We can buy a goat, and medicine, and all kinds of other great stuff. You may be saying, "Woo.. A goat. Big deal." but trust me, for them it is. Think about Zenabu guys. Seriously.

So I'll see you there.
SJHS Library.
12:13.
Friday, October 12th.
Be there.

Protest And Politics: The Plan

2007-09-26T22:36:00.000-03:00

Alright, this is what I envision for what this protest will be.

Pre-Protest: Make protest signs. Be creative. Make extras to give to people. Dress up all fancy. (People will be more willing to listen to a protester in a suit than a protester in street clothes. They'll be less likely to call them a hippie.) Plan out speeches; some rational, calm and explanatory to show the point and the reasoning behind what we're doing and some to whip the protesters into a cheering frenzy. Print out handouts that highlight the main points of both sides of the argument, plus valid counter-points to their arguments. Print out summaries that can be sent to the district, after being signed, to hand out. Advertise the protest. Facebook, email, word of mouth, fliers, uptown and in school. (Prepare many extras, you can count on them being taken down.) Fully charge all MP3 players. Gather protesters, march to point of protest.

Step One: After marching to a wide open public space, rally the crowd. Have a few invigorating speeches, from different people, showing their points. Use a highly public space, so more people who agree can add to the crowd. March to the next point, through public areas to gather more protesters.

Step Two: Arrive at second point. Somewhere in the school. Outside the office would be good, but we may attract attention too early. Before we get settled into what we're doing. The marble stairs would be perfect. Large area, lots of seating, and close, but not too close, to the office. Instruct the protesters. Sit. Hold up your signs. Wave them and smile at those who walk by (who knows, some might join us). Hand out the handouts (what else would you do?), you might get more people that way. And the most important part: listen to your MP3 player. And since at lunch it's okay, the protest can't be held during lunch.

Step Three: When opposition eventually, and inevitably, comes. Do exactly what you have been doing. That is: Sit. Be silent. Wave posters. Smile. Listen to your music. Don't react to threats (Power in numbers. They can't suspend/punish us all.), don't mouth off. Just sit and look happy. Talk amongst yourselves if you want, but silence is more effective.

Step Four: The approved speakers will deliver their speech to the gathered staff. They will remain calm and ask that any responses be saved until the end of the demonstration. Hand out the summarized points on the handouts. At the end of the speeches have protesters file past the assembled staff and say, "I am and I oppose the electronics ban."

Step Five: Have the assembled speakers have a conference with staff members, Mr Harbinson and the vice principals will have a word after this. But, and this is key: stay in a group. They will try to separate you and pressure you. Don't let them. This is your protest, run it by your rules. Arrange for the principal to contact the district, since it's, "Not our policy," about our concerns and with the information we have provided. Do not bow to any threats. Act civilly and maturely. Leave, and hopefully, the protesters will have lingered looking for a response.

Extra: Tell protesters to bring cameras/have some photographers. Take video of key points, such as the silent listening, the marching, the protesters saying they oppose the ban, and very importantly: the discussion with the principal and vice-principals.

Now, this protest will be breaking, not only the rule we want removed, but also another rule, the class attendance rule. This may be a sticking point for some, but if enough people attend, then punishments will not be as severe.

Haha, yeah, the plan's just a work in progress right now. In fact, this is the first drafting of it. But any advice/comments/support would be great. I'm gonna get some more details going, and some other organizers to help and we'll see where this goes. Hopefully somewhere other than suspension...

Protest and Politics: My Thoughts On The School System

2007-09-26T22:10:00.000-03:00

So, those of you in District 8 of New Brunswick (Basically my entire audience right now is..) know about the electronics ban. And for the most part, you're gonna agree you don't like it. Yeah, you'll deal with it, so whatever.

For me, it's not whatever. For me, it's pretty much that my "Positive Learning Environment" for things such as studying, and other quiet activities is far different from what the people at the district, The Man, thinks it is. I work better and my "environment" for learning is more "positive" if I have something to listen to. So by enacting the electronics ban, they're actually interfering with my Positive Learning Environment. But to them, of course, that's impossible! Because everyone has to learn the same way as everyone else. It's just how it works! I mean, people who are still in school have no personality, no identity of their own, right? ...Right? Yeah right. I work far differently from any other student you could find. I may be similar to one or two, but the way I learn, and the way I learn best isn't exactly the same as anyone else.

Because people work differently, it's in my opinion that we should be able to choose how we learn something. If we want to have everything read out loud to us, we can choose that; if we want to read in silence, we can choose that; if we want to learn while listening to hardcore death metal or acoustic rock, we can choose that. And the best way I can see for that to happen is by removing the MP3's from the electronics ban.

Yeah, I'd prefer to have my cell in class, and don't tell anyone this, but I do! Hah, they think that'll stop us? We'll just evolve new methods to secret them away. So I can deal with the cell phones. But what we have with the MP3 ban, is a lack of choice. It's a lack of freedom. And freedom is one thing we should deserve, in fact, it's something we should be getting more of, so we can learn to handle the responsibility! You'd think by now, we'd have the common sense to know what works for us, when it comes to learning and working in this educational system. But no. To Them, we are nothing but blobs of clay to be shaped to fit the holes they've pre-cut for us, Brave New World-esque. I say no to that! I say hell no to that! I refuse to be molded, I will make myself what I want to be. Now, this may seem to be bigger than just a simple MP3 ban, but that's not all that's firing me up. Limiting our rights to choose is something that's happening, not only at our school now, but, for some of us, our future school. That's right, I'm talking UNBSJ. But I won't get into that right now, I wanna focus on this one issue.

So if the MP3 ban itself it was one singular event, unconnected to any other politics in our education system right now, I wouldn't be making a big deal about it. But this is, as the analogy goes, another straw on the camel's back. And that camel's looking pretty shaky. What I'm gonna be doing is trying to sway this just the same way you eat an elephant. One bite at a time. My first bite? The MP3 ban. But enough with these damn analogies.

Enough about my reasoning, a lot of people out there will be joining this as-yet unplanned and tentative protest because of their own reasoning, but I hope that a few will be joining because of the same, or similar ideals that I hold here. I'm gonna finish up this post here. But I'll put up my plans so far pretty soon.

Ashley Qualls: A Cool Person I'm Writing About For Some Reason

2007-09-18T21:18:00.000-03:00

So the other day I was Stumbling around the internet, when I came across an article about a self-made millionaire. Not a crazy thing in today's society. But this girl was 17. Still, not much more of a feat. No offense, or anything Ashley, just saying, there's a lot of millionaires out there still in the teens. But see, the thing about Ashley is, she didn't get there from family inheritance (As I said, self-made), she didn't make it through an intense nerdy knowledge of programming and operating systems. No. She just cashed in on her passions. MySpace and Photoshop. This all combined together to have her creating MySpace layouts. But that's not all! (God, I sound like an infomercial.) She does not even charge for these layouts, no! They're free. All her riches are made simply from adverts on her pages. That is way cool. And way inspiring too.

So first I'll say some stuff about the girl, then the site. That sound good? Yeah, well I'm writing it right now. You have no choice. (Sorry everyone.) So she's a pretty cool person, as I've seen from her MySpace profile and whateverlife.com About page. And I'd like to talk to her some more, but for now, let's see some facts from those two pages. She's been doing up the website scene since she was 9. Coding, colouring, web design and management. That's her career and her passion. She has a lot of stuff in her MySpace page about achieving your dreams, and believing in success and your dreams and yourself, which I find way way cool, since I'm a dreamer like that. Hope, peace, love, truth, beauty, all that good stuff. But back to my article! I know, I'm supposed to ramble, it's what I do, but I'm kinda trying to stay on topic here. At least somewhat.

Now, about the website, WhateverLife. It's been around since mid-to-late '04. That's nearly three years of successful entrepreneurial success. WhateverLife is basically filled with free MySpace layouts, graphics, and tutorials, plus a Zine and forums. It's amazingly done up, and I was (and still am) awe by the fact that it was done up by Ashley alone. It was the first example of her talent that I saw, and I gotta say. Mad props. It looks great. The name, WhateverLife, originally started out as an inside joke, but eventually it was adapted to be, "For whatever life you lead," to emphasize that the site is for all audiences from all walks of life. A very inspiring message, I must say.

I'm gonna try and do up an interview with Ashley, if I can. I sent out an email message introducing myself and rambling on a bit. Maybe too much? I dunno. Let's just hope I didn't scare her off... That'd be slightly awkward. Haha, but in any case. Oh crap, I'd have to think up some questions... Eh, I'll give it a try. Why not, right?

You can visit Ashley's MySpace here: http://www.myspace.com/ashbo
Her website here: http://www.whateverlife.com/
And the forum here: http://www.snazzyboot.com/

I'm going to add a permanent link to WhateverLife in my links column now. And I might add a button or banner or something if I can find one...

Oh yeah, and a P.S. to Ashely herself: If I'm like, completely out-to-lunch here on anything that I've written here, just tell me. 'Cause I got half of the info from that article I read, which might have been quite old, half from your MySpace, half from the about page, and half from this dude at my Bad With Fractions Anonymous meeting.

An Open Letter To The Girl Working At The McDonald's

2007-09-18T19:32:00.000-03:00

Dear girl working at the McDonald's in Fredericton (I think it was there.),

You probably don't remember me. I only remember you because of what I planned to say, not what I actually said. I thought I would be witty, or at least slightly funny in my cynicality. Instead, I thought you said "Mayo?" after I asked for none, when you were actually asking "Meal?" and I answered that no, I would just like the chicken burger with the "Mc" prefix. Yeah, slightly embarrassing, but you probably get crap like that all the time. I was just another drop in the ocean, another brick in the wall. But people are like that everyday. Every brick is mortared over something interesting, so you gotta get the bricks to dance about a bit, just to see.

Well, I try to dance around a bit anyways, just to show people what's behind my brick. Yeah, I just said that. So what? But for some reason I held back from my dancing around, do not ask me why, I don't know. Basically my fictional conversation went as such:
McD's Girl: Thank you, have a nice day. (Or whatever that line is.)
Me: Do you actually mean that or is it just routine? 'Cause, you know, I'd say it back too. But I'll actually mean it. But, hah, that probably won't happen in this place.
McD's Girl: [Laughter] Well, thanks (And on to more conversation.)

Or, you know, something like that. Call it a social experiment, but one I neglected to try. And that's why I still remember it. At the very least it would have made for an interesting result. Either acceptance or an annoyed, "There's other people in line, move it," as it was quite busy. Still, either result I wish I'd have tried. But there's nothing I can do now. If you do by some magical happenstance manage to read this, and if you manage to remember the awkward mayo/meal mix-up, then shoot an email my way. Who knows? It could be the start of a great friendship.

Sincerely,
That Weird Long-Haired Kid Who Mixed Up Mayo And Meal That One Time

"Hey God, How's It Hangin'?" "Not Bad, Dude, Not Bad."

2007-09-11T16:21:00.000-03:00

So I found this Facebook group called "It's Call Creation Not Evolution" After seeing that it was primarily a high school group, with few members I decided, instead of pointing out the stupidity of Fundies (Fundamentalists) by the spelling mistake in the title, I would share my opinion, which is a compromise between Evolution and Creation. Well, not really a compromise, because it assumes both to be true. Well, just read it. You'll see.

"Creation and Evolution are not in any way mutually exclusive events. It's people thinking they are that makes all the bullshit controversy. What I'm saying is, couldn't it be creation and evolution? It's not that hard to believe, really. Just think of it like this: When God (Or your preferred omnipotent being.) told bronze age man that humans were made of these things that were too small for the human eye to see, unimaginably small, and that they lived together to create life, they couldn't comprehend it. Just like us bringing a cell phone back to King George. It'd be like magic! Except this would be infinitely more complex. So when the bronze age man could not understand cells, he equated it to the smallest thing possible that he COULD see, that being dust or dirt, into which God "breathed life."

"The same theory applies to the apparent "fact" that the world is only 6000 some years old. The same bronze age people whom God talked to about microscopic cells, could not comprehend that the world was billions of years old. So they went back to the last thing in their passed-down history that they could find, and named that as the start. And since they knew of nothing before, it might as well have been, right? Wrong. The majority of society's accomplishments and many ideas, if not inventions, that we use today were created before this alleged instantaneous creation of the earth.

"Now who says that the opening "world creation" of the Bible isn't thinly veiled metaphor? Or symbology. Yes, it may be true, but it's not literal. There are few other places in the Bible that state blatantly exactly what it means. If it was so, the thing could be cut down to much more than half, a quarter, of it's size. The real lessons are in discovering the hidden meaning, or moral, for yourself. So why is it that the opening is so blatant? "God created everything and there it was," to paraphrase at least, is highly unlikely exactly how it happened. What I believe to be true (And this is pure opinion, as valid and as close to the truth as yours or anyone else's.) is that it happened like this. God said, "Let there be light." And focused His willpower (Since He's only consciousness, and not matter or energy, so that's all He's got.) on a single dense point and made it explode, forming into galaxies and stars and such and the light was. Then he came to this one planet and willed an asteroid that carried certain enzymes to crash into this little blue planet that was the right distance from it's sun to support life, and the enzymes combined with the right chemicals on this little blue planet, to be able to self replicate itself. And from there were the first cells. God focused his will to make these cells prosper and slowly mutate and grow, like an artist makes small adjustments in clay and adds more slowly, over time to eventually become man. So God made man out of this "dust" which were actually cells, but it wasn't so instantaneous, since God is eternal, a single day (As was told in the Bible.) could be a billion years to Him.

"Yeah, that mutation and growing over time.. That's called evolution. And since God made it happen (In my theory).. It's creation too."

Now, this assumes that God is a consciousness that has transcended all boundaries of matter and energy. A theory explored in Greg Iles's "The Footprints Of God," a good piece of fiction, but a good piece of science fiction. That means it has some grounding in the scientific method. It's a plausible theory. Read the book. Then you'll get it.

Anyways, that's all just opinion, but at least it's an opinion that accepts both differing views on the subject. Be open minded people, it's the least you can do.

Not Another One...

2007-09-08T17:17:00.000-03:00

I started another new blog. Yeah yeah, I know. I have three already. But two are shared, so they don't count as fully mine. So there's my rationalization. Now on to the description.

So this blog is for my true-life ramblings and ravings, very unstructured actually. The other blog is completely the opposite. It's my fictions, that are linear and comprehensible. They serve one point, and that point is something you gotta find for yourself. Hah, didn't say it was gonna be easy did I?

Here it is, and the first story will be up within minutes.

Rock The World Part Three: The First Gig

2007-09-06T16:41:00.000-03:00

Brad was part of the St. Mac's High School orientation dealie-group-thing and had landed us a spot on the bands list for St. Mac's famed Picnic In The Park. A hour-and-a-half-or-so long lunchtime break for the St. Mac's students, with live music, free hot dogs and drinks. It was thought to start a few weeks into the school year, so we had plenty of time. Or so we thought.

Our originally planned set list included I Love Rock And Roll, N.I.B., God of Thunder and our song, now named 6-Speed Coffin. We had plenty of time to learn them and get the solos and everything down.

We then ran into some snags. For about a week, the last week before school started back up, Jay, our lead guitarist and main solo-maker, went missing. Well, not exactly, we just could not for the life of us get ahold of him. A second, and bigger, snag was this: P.I.T.P. was set, for the first Thursday of school. Instead of a few weeks, we had less than 8 days.

So me and Brad practiced, almost everyday that week, until I left for a friend's cottage for Labour Day and end-of-summer celebrations. Brad would get with Jay and practice the shit out of our two songs, God of Thunder and 6-Speed Coffin. We decided to cut it down, since those were the two we had down the best. Even with the snags, we were still going strong.

That is until our lead guitarist backed down (It's alright Jay, I forgive you man.), because he hadn't had any time at all to write a solo, and even less than zero time to practice it with the song. It was just me and Brad, trying to rock the world.

Brad worked on some solo-esque things he could throw in partway through the songs, just a few bars, but that's all we really needed, and more than would be expected from a two-man operation.

The day before the show. I'm required to show a bit early, so we can set up. I have classes then, so to avoid getting in trouble I come straight up with Mr. McKim, my C-Block teacher, and tell him that I'm going to a rival school to play for their opening week festivities. He points this all out to me and, after a pause, says, "Yeah, go ahead."

The night before the show. Brad shows up at my door with Andrew Gaunce, one of the organizers of P.I.T.P. We play through our stuff a few times, and play the solos, I work out something to play in the solo, and Gaunce approves. In fact, he had his expectations met, and broken past. Maybe not too far, but enough. Enough to say he's looking forward to the vocals tomorrow, when they're actually audible. I spend that night tossing in bed, unable to sleep, thinking of the show.

The day of the show. I go to school, but I'm constantly distracted. There's only one thing I can think about all day. In Mr. McKim's class I wait a little bit longer than I should. After asking to leave, I go. Up to the locker. Books in. Stick bag out. I'm gone. Out the doors, up the hills and streets and I'm there. First thing Brad says to me, "What took you!?" It doesn't matter though. We're not playing first.

Me and Brad go off with an acoustic and the practice pad from my stick bag. We go through each of the songs once. Brad messes up the solos. Uh oh. We'll make it though. We have faith in ourselves.

The band finishes, and we expect to wait until the next is done, but they call us on stage (Okay, on the space in front of the fountain at King's Square.), and we begin. After adjusting the kit, and testing out the sounds, we begin. The intro to God of Thunder roars through the crowd noise and I become sucked into the song. It's all faces going past like playing in front of mannequins. I'm almost indifferent to them, except they are my audience, so I entertain. I get sucked into the music, and it just rolls, it comes naturally. I make up the drumming for the solo on the spot, and it just fits, no conscious effort involved. After it is done, there is a cheer that arises, and the mannequins come to life, at least in my eyes. For the first time I notice how many damn people are there. There's the crowd in front, but then there's people milling around on all sides, behind, throughout the square, across the street. It's chaos, but amazingly structured chaos. The sound I am creating is echoing all around the city, touching strangers who I might never meet, but through that one note. The second song begins.

The intro swells up inside of me, I begin playing, gradually gaining volume and sound. At the point where it must be I plunge in with a cymbal crash, and Brad accompanies with a powerful strum. The beat is infectious, I see people from SJHS that I know, and this time they're not mannequins, they're people that I am touching and interacting with by way of sound. The lyrics are powerful, the chords loud and raw, the beat crashing and thumping all at once. The solo passes, and I modify my beat to flow with it. Verse, chorus, verse. Eventually the lyrics are done and we are on the last bar. Brad gives me the nod that says, "Here it is. End it." And we do. Another cheer comes up, and we walk away from the instruments, grinning. We just rocked the world. Our small world maybe, but we rocked it.

Rock The World Part Two: A New Band Evolves

2007-09-06T16:23:00.001-03:00

During this hiatus the previous members eventually started doing their own things. Derek jammed with Phil and Ben Marmen, and formed Good Enough. Brothers Brad and Brian got together with their cousin Andrew Hardt, and with Andrew's brother, Alex, formed Blue Cherry.

A year of school passes, summertime again. For a while, although the garage is warm enough, there is no group jamming going on inside. Later on, at a visit to Brad's house (The cousin Brad.) I was told about a certain Ian who had wanted to form a band. I was given Ian's email and talked to him a bit. He had a friend of mine, Jay, who had jammed a couple times the last summer who said he'd be okay playing lead. It wasn't a fixed position, but it was a start. We finally got together and revived the old garage. Ian, Jay and I jammed a couple times, and we started joking about how we needed a bass player. At the end of one such session, I turned to Jay and said, "Wait... Doesn't Brad play bass?" He confirmed it, and got the gist of what I was saying. After talking to Brad, he agreed to join in with us.

The next few weeks were a blur of jamming and playing and practice. Eventually Brad developed a simple bass riff, and it slowly evolved with the great care of gentle nursing and hard rocking into the start of a song. I was basically playing around with some stuff on my kit, and Brad was playing his slowly evolving riff-song. He said to told me to play what I was doing again, but more with the beat of what he was doing. It worked perfectly. Well, as perfectly as it could at that time. It would evolve with the rest of the song, verse, chorus, solos.

Things were looking up. And then we got some great news from Brad.

Rock The World Part One: That Summer

2007-09-06T15:57:00.001-03:00

My first gig ever as semi-professional performer has just recently gone and past. So recently, in fact, that my arms are still tired from beating them skins. (If you don't get it, I'm a drummer. Skins = drumskins, you sick little...)

But here's the story from the beginning. The very beginning. It's like one of those crappy True Hollywood Stories things. Except you read it, which is far beyond the average T.H.S. watcher. But here's the story from the beginning. The very beginning. It all started last summer...

I'm not sure exactly how it began, but when we got going this is what it was. A garage's attic, one second-hand drumkit, many guitars and basses and amps, strings of Christmas lights for lighting, and a second-hand couch/chair combo. The band members included two drummers (cousin Brad, and yours truly.), guitarists (brother Zack, cousin Brian, cousin Derek, Brad Wilson, Andrew Hardt), and one single bassist (Brad Wilson)... sometimes. It all changed around a lot. People made it, they didn't they came and went, it was chaos. What else was chaos was the jam sessions. Everyone played their own thing, and attempts at songs (My Sharona!) were always interrupted or cut short. It was intense, and crazy, and unorganized. We loved every minute of it.

Winter came that year. The garage, without power, was too cold to play in. The unnamed band went on a hiatus.

I'm Talkin' Ta You, Son

2007-09-05T16:04:00.000-03:00

I added this random Cbox thing to the page. Right over there to the right, go ahead, look. It's not some joke or surprise, just look already.

Done yet? Jeeze, that took you a while... Well, as you can see there's words in that there box. I typed them there. If you wanna put some in there you can, just don't use TheHipOne. That's me, if you didn't gather that. You can put your username/website in and then talk to your heart's content. All under 100-150 words per post of course. I kinda added it 'cause I'm not getting much in the way of comments (thanks a lot, guys...) but this is easier, so people might use it more. That's what society's getting to these days...

Anyways, you slackers can just comment in there, but just know that it'll only keep 100 messages or so. I'm not paying the 4.95 or whatever it is a month for unlimited comment space, when I have that already on Blogger. Yeah that makes me a slacker too. Deal with it.

The Infection

2007-09-04T17:37:00.000-03:00

I just got infected by a short story. Basic premise is this. A guy is sitting at home sharpening his knife, readying himself for something sinister. Something he must do. He doesn't like it, but he has to, he must, it's out of his control. It's encoded into his genetics, he is the random one that comes from every generation or so to do these deeds, that seem evil to most, but serve a purpose.

I just got a thought. I'll have him be followed by a spirit, a demonic seeming apparition. One that he converses with. But then at the end, the spirit is actually an angel, that was guiding his soul from being torn apart. Well, I might do that. I dunno if I wanna do the pure genetics side, or the spiritual/occult side. We shall see. 'Cause the story's already written, I'm just sifting around my subconscious to find it.

Fuck Off, Title Box. I Can't Sleep, So I'm Waking You Up

2007-08-29T05:04:00.000-03:00

Why the shit am I awake right now? Seriously someone please, tell me. It's 5 AM. No sleeping. Actually a better question than, "Why am I awake," would be this: Why am I at a damn computer and not where I should be, trying to get to sleep? Frickdamn.

I need to stop this, especially in one week's time. The big unmentionable is next Tuesday. I need to adjust the cycle. It's not good. At least I get to look forward to playing at St. Mac's "Picnic in the Park." With my band "Profane Philosophy" (Yeah, that's at the moment. Previously "Don't Panic.") Hey, do you think "At The Moment" would be a good name?

But back to my main point, what the hell Graeme? What. The. Hell. If anyone wants to shed light on my problems, feel free to contact me. I'd appreciate the help. Sleeping pills anyone? Goodnight (for you that is.)

Blueberries In Milk With Sugar

2007-08-19T13:24:00.000-03:00

So I was looking at this website the other day and I came across the concept of streaming. Talk streaming and write streaming. Basically what you do is you start off with whatever is on the top of your head and you go with it until you find a solution to a creative problem. Write steaming is just writing and talk streaming is talking out loud to a person. Well, duh, of course you realized that. Talk, write, very different words for the title. But see, what streaming does is it lets you think about the problem without realizing it, and it gets rid of all the excess crap you've been thinking of and you can think of what to write/photograph/draw/paint/sing/compose. I'm kinda doing it right now actually. I might run out of things on my mind that it's legal to type so I might start talking about the objects around me. Like my breakfast/lunch. A bowl of blueberries in milk with sugar. Seeing as how it's 1:40 or so. I guess I should stop the stay-up-'til-3AM-in-case-inspiration-hits-you-like-it-did-to-start-the
-book mentality. Well, it did help a few times before, but it hasn't been lately. Ugh, I need more sugar on these blueberries.

Ah shit, that stuff pours fast. Now it's super extra sweet. Ah well, it'll help shake me from the cobwebs of lethargy. Ah crap! It's all sunk to the bottom. You can scrape it off the bottom with your spoon, but then when all the milk's drained you see the pile of sugar at the bottom and you feel bad for wasting it. Enh, oh well. Kids in Africa are already getting my money, I can waste a tablespoon of sugar. Man, was that as cold-hearted as I'm hearing it now? I'm not actually that... bastardly, it's just part of the streaming. Honestly. Scrape scrape scrape goes the sugar. But it tastes so good, you know? Yeah, because that's a good enough excuse for eating something like this for breakfast. 1:52 breakfast even. It does have berries you know. And milk's good for you. But not when it's turned into a sludge by the sugar. Sprinkle sprinkle. I need to get out of these bad eating habits. I tried to once. Got lazy. Stopped. I tried working out for a while too. Got lazy. Stopped. It's not like I'm overweight or weak or anything, no. I'm actually underweight. BMI of 17, and 18.5 is the limit of being underweight so even that's not bad. But still. I could use a little bodily tune-up. Everyone could really. Nobodies absolutely perfect. Perfection's a crock of bull, because nothing can be absolutely perfect from the microscopic, atomic scale to the macroscopic, universal scale. And if you try, that way lies insanity. If something can't be done, is impossible, trying to do it- no, dedicating your life to doing it is absolutely nutso. Some people may say "Impossible is just a state of mind," or something else ridiculous like that. That's dumb, that's moronic, that's stupid. That implies that it's the universe that's at fault, not the person for inaccurately describing something as impossible. Because impossible means that something is not able to be done or attained in any way, shape or form. So doing the impossible is doing something that can't be done. Which, well, can't be done. But if the thing could be done, and it just hasn't before, and no one believes it could be done, they incorrectly assume that it's impossible. When it isn't.

Sprinkle sprinkle. Almost done my breakfast. Man, sprinkle is a weird word. It sounds almost medical. "Yes doctor he has a severe aneurysm in his left sprinkular gland." And then the good doc says, "Well let's just sprinkle some medications on that and everything will be fine," and he laughs a great laugh that implies everything will work out in the end. No. That's not how it works. That's Hollywood magic. Doctors don't make jokes. Doctors make profits. The showers of blood shooting out of a severed artery are showers of red gold to old Doc. Man, I'm such a downer on society right now. It's probably just the cold though. The cold that society gave me! The stupid bastards. Last berry down the hatch, and I'm done writing for now.

PostScript: There's a new comic up. Enjoy.

Bugs Can Totally Cure Cancer, Man

2007-08-15T00:33:00.000-03:00

Why am I writing about this? What possible reason is there for it? Maybe the CIA took me hostage and brainwashed me. Maybe the FBI hacked my password to spread propaganda. Maybe CSIS... Oh wait, CSIS sucks, I forgot that part.

But in sooth, I write about it because I was asked to. And since I said I would, I am. That's how rad I am. I say I do something, I do it. Not like them damn gov'ments. So here it is, Mary, an exposé on... bugs?

Wait, woah woah woah. Hold up a second. This is serious business. Don't go leaving because this isn't a typical entry. And don't go leaving because I didn't write about something you suggested. Seriously. Contact me with something you want rambled about, and I'll ramble on about it. Now, to the actual subject of this thing, without any possible further ado, here it is, the thing I'm writing about, the one and only- ah, fuck it, here goes.

-Insert rant that will satisfy Mary's curiosity about what I'd write about if I wrote about this subject-

Well, that was interesting wasn't it? Educational too. Jolly good.

Any Trans-Dimensional Beings Need Their Ticket Verified?

2007-08-12T23:45:00.000-03:00

"At the moment, trans-dimensional traveling is limited to trans-dimensional beings, or those uni-dimensional beings that are descended from trans-dimensional beings and still exhibit some trans-dimensional properties. Any uni-dimensional beings that do not have these properties should not know that this exists, and should therefore report to security."

"All Crossings to alternate realities are subject to some risk. This facility is not responsible for anything that happens while you are transcending your normal reality."

"If you are not fully satisfied with your Crossing, you may attempt to Cross into a past reality and stop yourself from doing so. The above rule applies, and we are not liable to any paradoxes in the fabric of space, time and existence."

"If you become nauseous on your Crossing, take it up with the locals of the existence you have traveled to. Although transit may seem longer, that is simply a construct of the subconscious to stop individuals from seeing the structure of the multiverse. This is so that your mind does not explode into a state of eternal nirvana. Actual transit is instantaneous."

"The lost and found can be found by asking any staff. Unless it is lost. Be careful, the lost and found is a microuniverse. In looking for your lost item, you may be lost yourself in the infinite space we have created for the lost and found. Also, watch out for antimatter items, or for matter items if you come from an antimatter universe."

Signs from a multiversal travel agency.

This is basically how the universe works in my novel. Well, all but for the institutionalized way of business. You don't pay to Cross. You can do it yourself. Well, that is if you have the properties of a trans-dimensional being.

If you look at the actual concepts of it, with some background in science (And science fiction.), it isn't all that far-fetched.

I mean, time travel may not be possible, but if you can travel into the past of another reality that is similar to our own, then who is to say that won't happen to this reality from the "you" in some other one? This all implies the ability to travel from one reality to another, and it implies that they exist, but those are already scientifically thought out ideas. They're in no way proven, but hey, at least someone other than a raving hippie from the north has thought about it's possibility, right?

It also touches on the idea of baby universes, or seed universes (What I called a microuniverse). These are sections of reality that are stretched off of regular reality. For example, if this universe were a two dimensional plane, then a baby universe from it would look like a balloon blown into the surface of it, and tightened off at the base. This too is a scientific idea, if not the truth.

One thing I might stretch here is that the other planes of reality are interesting enough to garner a demand large enough for a travel agency to develop, and that the clients from all the universes have a currency equivalent throughout every existence. Too bad for those who don't. I guess they'd have to go to their embassy and exchange for the multiversal norm.

There's a new Lost and Found comic up. Check it out.

An Experiment In Out-Of-Context Thinking

2007-08-08T23:39:00.001-03:00

I just started a new Blog. I'm not the only contributor, no. Currently there's two. If you want to join it, go ahead, let me know. The thing is, you can't just write about anything that strikes your fancy. Well, okay you can, but only as long as it's title (And subject!) is from a phrase, or sentence from the previous post. Here's the first post in case you wanted to get started:

So. This Blog is gonna be a total thought experiment. The basic premise behind it is this: I write. I write at length about something. Whatever the hell I want. But that's only the first post. And that's this one. The next post after this will be about something completely different. But that different thing has to come from one of the phrases, or sentences, or whatever that I used in this post.

For example: I used the sentences, "I write. I write at length about something." The next poster could use that as their title and write about how they like to write, or how they want to become an author, or something to that effect. In effect, you take something I have written, rip it out of context, and create Something Different.

See the humour there? I said Something Different, like they would create a thing that is different. But also Something Different, being the title of this website, so they're creating it. I thought it was clever.

There's a ton in there to get writing about, and I'm sure there'll be more in the next one. I'm currently looking for two or three more people who have already proven themselves to be able to write, whether it's humour or serious, fiction or truth, political or just for fun, prose or poetry. And as long as it's good, creative, and original, join 'er up!

You Cold Impersonal Bastard! ...Uh, MSN I Mean

2007-08-08T13:31:00.000-03:00

I'm not some anti-technology, Luddite freakazoid or anything. Seriously, I'm not. If I was, do you think I'd be using this computer? But even though I'm not with the people who want to see a downfall of all computing technology, I still don't like some of it. MSN, for example. Or, for that matter, any Instant Messaging service. Yes, they let you chat it up for free, or close to it, but have you ever stopped to think about what's really going on?

I use MSN frequently. I do. But the one major flaw I see is that it's the words, pure and simple. No tone, no inflection, no body language, no nothing. Every time I see someone write out the sounds of laughter I imagine it coming out robotically. "Ha-ha-ha, your logical reasoning is flawed. Ha-ha-ha." There's next to no way to know if someone is being sincere or sarcastic. And couple that with my slightly annoying habit of over-thinking every little detail of a conversation, and add a dash of paranoia... It can get a little more than just annoying. Actually, what it can get is stressful. It can get worrisome. And I don't like worrisome. Worrisome blows.

See, the other thing about IM-ing, is that in normal conversation, people can't get up and leave in the middle of speaking. In IM-world though, you can. And when that happens with me, with my little quirks (Paranoia... Over-thinking...), it can give the wrong impression. I like having close, one-on-one discussions, conversations, and even just chats with people. And if you're talking to someone in such a conversation, and they just get up and leave without an explanation for five minutes or so... Yeah. You get the point.

Now all that crap is changing the way we converse, and yes they're easing us into it with all the emoticons, the winks, the nudges, the crudges, the widgets and gadgets and whatever the hell else they make. But it doesn't deny the fact that it's changing language in general. It's almost Orwellian and reverse-Orwellian all at once. Instead of Newspeak, limiting our way of speech, removing concepts such as freedom from the vernacular, there is a constant addition of terms and phrases. Blogosphere, webcest, ignoranus, action towel, adminsturbation. It just keeps going.

I mean, woohoo for creativity, but here's where the Orwellian comes in: once these words start becoming actually defined and true words, they will be able to twist them out of context ever so slightly, limiting our ability to use them freely. I could make up a word right now. Gorespeak. It's all the bloody, gorey, death-and-destruction they show on the news all the time, and the endless discussion about said violence. But to someone else, it could be anything talking about Al Gore. The definitions are endless. That is, until it's defined as one thing, and is set as such.

Also, what happens when the abbreviations for all the little words and feelings and concepts start completely and totally replacing the things that they abbreviate? This could undermine the creativity of writers around the world. The God of Wyrds is not happy! Now, I'm not a Grammar Nazi or anything, but seriously. I want to keep all the options open!

But back to the topic at hand. IMspeak, IMology and IMidioms. They're alright if controlled. But get them out of hand, and add in my paranoia and over-thinking. Man. Bad combination. It makes IMing seem so cold, so impersonal. Almost as if it's parents were not married when it was conceived and born.

So, to sum up. If you're talking to me online, act as if I'm a small child when leaving or when explaining intentions. Well, not really. But be careful. I might get the wrong impression and stay awake 'til four AM thinking about what I could've said slightly different or not said or said instead, or... urgh. Too much thinking. Someone buy me an off switch for my brain.

Why Am I A Hippie?

2007-08-07T01:23:00.000-03:00

I've explained this to a few people, but I wanted to get the word out, so that all the people who call me a hippie because of the hair would know that I actually am one. Let's look in the dictionary, shall we?

There's quite a few definitions to the word "Hippie," and I apply to a few. But, as I have told people before, it's an option, not a checklist. Now, thefreedictionary.com describes hippie as: "A person who opposes and rejects many of the conventional standards and customs of society, especially one who advocates extreme liberalism in sociopolitical attitudes and lifestyles." dictionary.com defines it as: "a person, esp. of the late 1960s, who rejected established institutions and values and sought spontaneity, direct personal relations expressing love, and expanded consciousness, often expressed externally in the wearing of casual, folksy clothing and of beads, headbands, used garments, etc." or "a usually young person who does not wish to live by the normal rules of society and who shows his rejection of these rules by his unusual clothes, habits etc"

Let's take a look at the first one. Opposing and rejecting many conventional standards and customs of society. That means I am abnormal, in the society. I don't do as others do, and I don't act as others act. I am my own very distinguishable person. Seriously. I've been told. Now, it also mentions political standings. Advocating extreme liberalism. I am, in fact, libertarian. I believe in the minimal interference of the government, and the freedom of the individual. Totally righteous dude.

Now, the second definition fits as well. Well, all except for the late 1960's part. And the stereotypical clothing. But the beads! I do sometimes wear beads in my hair. So there. And yeah, I do believe in love. In all that truth and beauty stuff. I am a dreamer.

Now, the last definition, I think, fits the very best. I am a young person. I do not wish to live by the regular, the mundane, the everyday rules. I do show off my difference by the way I talk, maybe less so the way I dress, but hey! What's in an appearance but refracted light anyways?

But see, the number one well known definition of hippie that everyone goes on about and implies when they joke about me being one, is this. "A dude from, like, the 60's that does, like, weed and stuff." Yeah. That's sure what I like being. A doped up lunatic that raves about the self-transforming machine elves. I like being a hippie, yeah, I admit. It doesn't pay well, but it's a fulfilling occupation. I don't like being the aforementioned doper.

Now, if only people read this thing, then they'll know to call me a hippie in earnest. I totally am one, dude. It's far out. You should really get some of this shit I just bought- I mean, try being a hippie sometime.

Here I Am Baby!

2007-08-03T16:50:00.000-03:00

Well, it was quite an eventful trip. Getting detained by security, a concert almost every night, getting the signature from the drummer of Live On Arrival, meeting people from Northern Ireland, dressing David (N. Irish dude.) as a woman, pissing off security, etc., etc. Too much to explain, or even remember all at once.

So just some stuff, the puppy is coming home today, sometime soon. Plus I will get back into the ranting and rambling soon. Right now, I'm too damn tired.

Quick Update from Quebec

2007-07-25T15:31:00.000-03:00

Hey everyone. I'm sitting in a stifilingly hot metal box with a few meagerly powerful fans pushing the hot air around. But what do I care? There's an internet connection.

I'm gonna try to update later on. I gotta go for now. Later Bloggers.

EDIT: So It's been pretty crazy. We met these people from Northern Ireland who're camping besdie us. They're pretty cool. We've been hanging. We did this thing called the "Gun Run" today. It said it was "disassembling a cannon and bringing it up a cliff, reassembling is and firing it." so we signed up. It sounded cool. We REALLY just made box out of PVC pipe and wood, wrapped it in plastic and carried one person up and down a hill. It didn't help with the heat either. Well, we're going to go sit in a waterfall now.

The Legend of the God of Wyrds

2007-07-23T13:16:00.000-03:00

Just a little update. The God of Wyrds has given me a little leniency on the book. I've managed to squeeze out about 200 words. It's not much. I think the GoW's just trying to taunt me or something. Not many people know about the God of Wyrds. I mean, he's lesser known than the regular old God, but the GoW was key in human development. For all the ignorant masses (And intelligent masses that don't know about the GoW, like my readers... Not! Hahahaha, well anyways, close bracket.) here's the story of the God of Wyrds.

In the beginning there was nothing. God said, "Let there be light!" And there was light. And the God of Wyrds said, "Hey, Hey God! Hey! What are you gonna call that?! Huh? Lets make some words to call that thing you just made! Let's call it light! Or illumination! Or brightness! Or ray, beam, gleam, streak, aurora, shine, luminous, bright, vivid, lustrous, radiant, sunny, luminary, phosphorescence, florescence!" And God spaketh unto the God of Wyrds, "Shut up!"

The GoW didn't heed God's warning and followed him around giving everything God created thousands of different (Differing, diverse, heterogeneous, multifarious, polyglot, distinguishable, dissimilar, varied, modified, diversified, various, variform.) names and even broke up the names into categories the GoW called "Languages."

This pretty much made the GoW a nuisance to everyone but writers. When the GoW realized this, he had an epiphany of sorts. He epiphanized that he liked being a pest to everybody, writers included. So the GoW schemed up a little scheme. He would let the people who don't use words all that often or don't care for words all the words that he could pile on them. People like accountants, laborers, prison workers, and bad writers that use too many synonyms and adverbs and fancy descriptive speech that has no content whatsoever. Then what the GoW did was take all the words from the writers with any ounce of talent, so they have to struggle, they have to pray to the GoW to grant them some of the precious words. The GoW's a bit of a prick like that. (A prick that doesn't read my Blog? Oh please, oh pleeeeaase!!)

Now the GoW had a second schemey scheme to aggravate the world with words. They are a stain on the face of teh int3rnetz. You probably know them well. The Grammar Nazis. What the GoW did was he took a grammar textbook and put it in a bag with a Nazi. He shook them up until they... uh... you know... Until they congealed into a big mass. That's it. Then this mass started growing little pus-filled boils. Out of each of these boils spurted a G.N. They now run rampantly across teh int3rnetz, pestering everyone and gaining no friends along the way.

Now you know the Legend. Pass it on so that we can use it as a weapon against the evil G.N.'s and force the God of Wyrds to give us some creative freedom, whenever we need it, not when he wants to give us the freedom.

Get Your Damn Hands Off My Mind!

2007-07-22T13:23:00.000-03:00

Does your mind ever just... go blank? I have the need to ramble on, but I can't think of anything to ramble about, except my decreased rambling abilities. And now I'm writing self referentially. I'm breaking the fourth wall! Oh no! Wait not really. 'Cause I'm not talking directly to you, reader. Oh. Shit.

I think the inability to write a Blog entry at the moment has something to do with my writer's block with my book. I mean, it's been almost two weeks since I've set pen to paper (Or fingers to keyboard with Microsoft Word opened...), let alone creatively come up with anything worthy of actually fitting into the book. I think it's the dialog. Dialog's a bitch. Yeah, some small talk was easier back at the beginning, some routine everyday speech, a passionless lecture, but now I have to come up with convincing speech with just that, passion. And it has to be frantic passion, a clawing desire that a choice will turn out to be positive, in objection to a rational response that says not to risk it. Yeah, a little dramatic, but hey, I'm writing for a character and that character is... excitable.

I think I'm gonna go try and squeeze out a page or so... And you can take that as a synonym of, "Stare at a blank Word page until I feel like ripping my own eyeballs out."

Oh, another thing. I'm going to be in Quebec for the next two weeks, starting Tuesday the 24th. There may be an internet cafe, but the chance is slim. Even slimmer that I'll be able to get past the line. Also, my phone will be out of it's zone. And the only other forms of technology will be porta-johns, pay phones, and tents. So if there's actually anyone who reads these convoluted brain-gasms, you're gonna be out of luck until Friday, August 3rd.

I'll try and update a couple times during the time between now and Tuesday. But that's only if the evil God of Wyrds takes his damn hands off my creativity. 'Til then you'll just have to distract yourself with this.

Where Have They All Gone? or The Plight of a Non-Harry Potter Reader

2007-07-21T20:20:00.000-03:00

Ever since this book came out last night things have been, shall we say, lacking in the social standpoint. Well, seeing as how a higher percentage of my friends/acquaintances/mistresses are Harry Potter fans, they have been in reading the book, and not out doing social-type things (Or doing me, in the case of the mistresses). Now, you may say there's always other things to do, but see, since all the Potterized friends are reading, they're also offline. Off MSN, off Facebook, off the forums. Pretty much just off. And since I'm such a big nerd, that constitutes my usual evening. Or not. But when I'm bored babysitting the menace that is my little brother, or whiling away some spare time, or anything else idle, I usually use these things, chat it up, and arrange something to do later on. Not today. Not now in these dark times.

See, it would be alright except for one factor. I have this friend who I usually rant to about this stuff, and receive constructive replies. Plus this friend's not a huge Potterite. But the thing is, that friend's out of town, and far from any form of communication. So I'm stuck here with this tumultuous chaos playing out it's quiet scheme in my head. I have somewhat of a way to get it out of there(This Blog.), but I have no way to get help solving it or anything. It's just... there. Plus, the fact that I leave all civilization on Tuesday for a two week long camping extravaganza a couple thousand kilometers away doesn't help.

Well, this may be less of a plight for all non-Potterheads, just this one. But others may be feeling it, at least in a slightly less extreme way. You know who you are. You just gotta realize, even though all your friends are huge Potter nerds, doesn't mean you're a nerd too*.

Now, I'm off to mindlessly refresh Facebook over and over again. If you're reading this, you can join me. Or, actually, gimmie a call or something. We can start a "Down With Potter" crew. Just you wait. Everyone's gonna join 'er.

*Yes it does.

Gaze Into The Face of Your Eternal Demise

2007-07-21T14:11:00.000-03:00

So. In approximately two and a half weeks time, there will be a force of evil migrating into my home. A great power that will wreak havoc upon my possessions and cause unforeseeable psychological damage. Not to mention it'll make me have to get off my lazy ass and do some work.

If you dare, poor reader, gaze into the face of your eternal demise! GAZE:

Yeah, that's right. I'm getting a puppy. This is actually my brother holding the thing here, not me. It's the only picture where the little demon is facing the camera and isn't mauling his siblings or fighting over toys. Oh, it's going to be fun taking care of the beast. If by "fun" I mean "complete torture."

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't hate animals. I have a dog, a cat, and a snake. It's just the taking-care-of-the-endless-need-of-the-infantile-state-of-the-dog part I'm averse to. These things are absolutely crazy! You can barely control them, and when they leave a "little something" on the carpet, you have to round them up, tell them not to do it again, take them outside and watch them so they don't run away, while simultaneously rushing to find cleaning products and using said products to clean the mess before it stains. And that just scratches the surface of the mind-numbing dedication it takes to own one of these things.

I just hope that I can avoid most of the drudge work by unloading it upon my other family members, and get to experience only the positives of puppy-ownership.

More updates on this will come when the thing weasels it's way into my heart like the infectious diseases it carries, and I'll actually feel guilt over leaving it in the middle of the woods or something.

First Ever Blog Topic: Blogs

2007-07-21T03:27:00.000-03:00

So, this is my first Blog. Ever. No seriously. You don't believe me? Liar.

Well, seeing as how I'm so new to the Blogosphere, I think I'll just go off for a while about whatever comes up. Oh hey, how about those weblog things? Yeah, sounds good to me.

A blog is usually just an excuse for random people to write bad journal entries anonymously for all of teh int3rnetz to see. Usually that is. For others, it's a way to vent all the chaotically screaming thoughts in their heads to the world, and hopefully make a few people laugh along the way. I share my crazy for you, you share yours right back. We both mutually benefit in seeing that we're not alone in the turmoil.

But see, people who use blogs as an old fashioned journal about their boring lives are, well, boring. It's not like we want to hear about how many times you brushed each tooth this morning, or how you struggled with a coffee stain on your favorite tie. This is unless, you realized you were brushing your teeth with hair gel, or your favorite tie was actually stained with blood from when you accidentally bumped your boss in the nose when you were both drunk at the company party last night. And even then, that's not really all that funny. Embarrassing really.

Actually, I believe that Blogging has increased the success level of stalkers around the world by 604%*! Think about it. A Blog has all your thoughts and feelings and experiences for weeks on end, it has your favorite color, music, sexual positions, it has your life's aspirations, all things about yourself that a stalker would find as perfect fodder.

So the next time you think about starting a Blog, think about this: Does your life suck? Are you boring? Do people laugh only hesitantly at any jokes you attempt to make? Do you rarely tell jokes? Do people who are laughing profusely suddenly stop when you walk into a conversation and awkwardly try to change the subject? If you answered yes to any of these questions, please do not start a Blog. If you answered yes to all of these questions, please get out of the grind of daily monotony and go bungee jumping or something. Take a vacation even. Jeeze, hire a prostitute for frick's sake! Just do something exciting.

Well, that's it for my first Blogging. Let's hope I don't forget about this, and actually update it sometime, eh? Sounds good. Party on Blogworld.

*I made this statistic up.