arvTales

Courtesy of my little cousin Faye, 13 years old.

Me: "Faye is a moron. Faye is a big fat stupid moron."
Faye: "I'm not fat."

And that is why we always make fun of you, little girl.

What a way to cap off a wonderful year!

I'm reading bash.org and missing mIRC.

WARNING: Boring flashback ahead.

I write a lot. As such I was naturally drawn to this medium where ideas were freely exchanged over bits and bytes.

Whenever I didn't have Chem labs or Algebra matrices or mockettes to finish, I would be on IRC. Most high school kids hung out at the mall. I practiced my keyboarding skills on mIRC. I still have logs of the funniest shit people ever said on #laguna, #flipcyde and #t-dot. Ah, the memories.

Made some good friends over the wires, but none that I keep in touch with today. Well, a couple. Which reminds me...

Okay, done with the nostalgia trip.

Let's watch some Buffy and read some Card.

What am I doing awake at 02h32? I was staring at the books on my shelf, is what. I got lost in the moment. More importantly, I asked myself afterwards, "Self, what are you doing staring at books?"

Why am I writing on my blog about things that no one else but myself will find fascinating?

Who the hell is going to want to read about crap that I think about at two fucking o'clock in the morning?

When will iTunes finish burning Matt Dusk? Damn you iTunes! You're taking forever!

Where the hell did the time go? Holidays is almost half over and I haven't even gotten drunk once! Or seen anyone else blasted!

How am I going to wake up early tomorrow when it's already two o'clock?

Should I publish the entry I'm reluctant to publish? I'm sure the family would appreciate it if I don't but then again it's not like I'm breaking the story. But if I didn't publish, all that time researching and compiling data would have been for naught. It would feel like a total waste of time.

Sigh.

I really shouldn't be awake at this hour. It causes too much thinkage.

Like this:

People are easy to read if we just take the time to think about their actions and why they do the things they do. People telegraph their thoughts, their histories, their inner selves all the fucking time.

Take for example the cashier at Best Buy today. She was soft-spoken; had to get the other girls to shout "I can help the next person in line" for her. Why was that? She's the shy type, apparently. She kept her head down even when customers tried to engage her in conversation. She did not look people in the eye. Why is that? Most shy people would not work in a frontline job, so why is she there? She's young, she looks like she's got money judging by the jewellry around her neck and on her fingers. Looks real enough; has shine. She must be well off, then? That's a safe assumption. So why would she have to work? She's in high school, it looks like, and it's the Christmas break. This is also the first time that I've seen her at that particular store so that must mean that she's a seasonal worker. Why would a relatively well-off shy girl who is still in highschool work the cash at a busy electronics store during the holidays? Experience, money, boyfriend.

Boyfriend/family got her the bling. Most likely boyfriend 'cause it's not $$$ enough. She's not that well off. She has to pay for presents. She's getting experience working the seasonal shift, too. Manager is a bitch so she put her pretty face up at cash not caring about the shyness of her employee. Or maybe she thought the girl could use some experience with the rabid, Boxing week public.

It's just a guess but I'd wager that it's mostly accurate. Mostly. Remember that I spent only five minutes watching her while I was in queue and another 2 minutes talking to her while she rang up my purchase.

Hm. Didn't catch her name. So much for being observant.

SNL Skit: Lazy Sunday
Featuring Chris Parnell & Adam Samberg

edit:
ARGH! Looks like Google Video pulled this vid. No matter. Here's another link.

Pachelbel's Canon in D Major.

Domino.

Just got back from Town. I swear to goodness I must go there at least once a week. Dammit.

So I just got back from Town. The experience reminded all my senses of why I do my shopping in November.

I hate people. More accurately: I hate grabby, smelly, pushy, loud crowds. Crowds in general are a great place to hide but not shopping crowds. They are a different beast entirely. One, they're grabby. People push into you to reach for a toy or cologne or mp3 player display in front of you. It's like they can't wait their turn to look at junk. Two, they're smelly. Not the nice, Gardenia, Competition, or even CK1 kinda smell, but sweaty, sometimes cigarette smokey smell. Three, they're very pushy. They push to get into the store, to get at the crapwhile you're at line, and as you're trying to get out of the store. Four, they're loud. Even through my iPod.

On the plus side I found a nice present for Brad and Soumik.

I just got back from Town and I'm never coming back.

I jumped into the nearest snowbank on the way home.

Here's the story behind it:

I bought a new pair of boots over the weekend. They're Sorel. I'd ne'er heard of that particular brand but the boots looked like they were built to last. Would've gotten the nice Columbia's but alas they were not available in my size. So Sorel it was. Also, Columbia's was thirty damn ducks (manfred for 'bucks'), cheaper. Gotta stay under budget. Anyway, moving on.

It hasn't snowed much this week.

Impatient me, thinking, "Hmm, there's lots of snow in the ground from the last snowfall," led to cold.

I jumped into the nearest snowbank on the way to work. Almost knee-deep in snow, that's when I was reminded that snow was cold.

Feet stayed comfy and warm. Knees, not so much.

"They say things happen for a reason, but that reason may not always be clear. In time, with faith, the meaning may emerge. What was, what is, what shall be. Pieces of a puzzle, falling into place."
-Early Edition

It's been so long since I've thought about this quotation. I came upon it on the web a few days ago. It was my mantra in high school any time I couldn't explain something.

What was, what is, what shall be. Pieces of a puzzle falling into place. When I entered university I brought with me that ideal.

One of the professors I had happened to be a priest. He taught philosophy. One would naturally assume that the inquisitive nature of Philosophy would be contrary to the faith required for religion; that the two do not go together. He taught me different.

After one class, I stayed behind, which was a habit. I've always believed you learned more after class than during it. Another student and I started to ask him about the priesthood, about faith and philosophy. I was very interested since I seriously thought about a vocation. I wondered how he could reconcile the unbelief that seems to surround Philosophy (i.e. "there are no concrete answers") and the faith that is inherent in religion (i.e. "the answer is God"). His answer was simple: It's the same damn thing. The Divine provides us with no definitive answers. All it requires is belief. Philosophy is the same; it does not require us to have answers, but merely to question what it is that we know, and to trust, to have faith that we can think, and that our thoughts are the only thing that we can truly know about the world.

So, in conclusion, belief in God and belief in our own thoughts is still belief. Neither can really be proven. I can't prove to you that my thoughts are my thoughts and there is nothing else that exist apart from my thoughts. I can't prove to you that there is a God.

We choose that which we believe. Not to be confused with "I choose to believe what I was programmed to believe," which, if you ponder a little, is a very accurate quotation that can describe most of the world's people. That quotation is from Futurama.

The past week went by in a whiz. It was very blurry.

I'm trying to remember what the hell I did that merits writing but, for the life of me, I can't think of anything specific. There's a couple of things that I want to write about, something poignant, or insightful, or just plain funny. But can't remember any specifics. I'm having another blogger's block.

I think I'll go watch Star Trek now. Apparently there's a marathon on Space.

Oooo, the Borg. This is the good movie. All the other Star Trek Next Gen is craptacular. The best line is coming up. Hold on.

Data: "I'm reading chronometric waves blah blah blah."
Picard: "They're creating a temporal vortex."
Riker: "Time travel."

Hahahahahaha. I love that line! Riker, mister exposition. One damn line that explains the whole situation. And just two words! What economy of language. Very impressive.

Okay, where was I? Wait, let me go back and read what I wrote.

Right. I still can't remember what it was I wanted to write about, but I'm sure that it'll come to me eventually. But for now, I'm going to watch sports highlights and possibly read some Malcolm Gladwell.

Or just watch Google Video.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

I must not get distracted.

The soup I just ate is soooooo good!

@ Sprouts
$9.19
mushroom
noodles
shrimp
coriander
green onion
spicy

wowowwowowowow

I'm eating lunch and I was inspired. I was inspired by the amount of work on my desk. I was inspired to ignore it and blog 'cause I'm eating lunch.

PL is talking on the phone and so is BG, but it's not loud at all.

RM is reading something on the interweb. KB is... I can't hear him. Nor JM. AK and SS are out to lunch or smoking. My theory is they're having an intimate inter-office affair. AK and SS, not KB and JM. Woah, bad mental picture. Deja vu. It's a theory that has absolutely no basis in the real world. Of course, things are a lot more interesting in my head than in the real world. The real world blows. i.e. Bush delivers 4th speech defending Iraq war. My thinking is, if you have to justify a war to your own people, people that elected you, you shouldn't really be in it.

My McDonald's is making RM hungry. He's off! It's just me BG and PL now. I'm typing away as I hear BG say "Buttfuck, Saskatchewan." That caught my attention for a second. PL is giving someone directions on how to get to our office. Man, just say "google it."

Okay, I want more nuggets.

You read right. This post is officially my 101st published post. "Published" meaning just that. As of this writing there are five unpublished posts:

1. My Fortune
2. Almost Automacar Accident
3. Stupid Drivers
4. Theory: Work is Like High School
5. My Stomach is Turning, hurting, pain pain pain

I doubt I'll ever finish #5. But the rest should be good reads and will be done before year's end.

Number 4 might take a while since I have been developing that particular theory for the last two years and I have notes I have to look for.

Okay, there are now six unpublished posts since I just wrote one with a nifty little quotation from one of my favourite dead shows. Worry not as it will published soon.

Test.

I just spent the last ten minutes writing this week's Know Deskflow Tip. This is the "helpful" weekly tip I "write" and broadcast to my company every "Monday" afternoon. I am a little quotation mark happy.

Why am I writing it at 1 o'clock in the morning, you ask? I was inspired. At first all I wanted to do was brainstorm some ideas on what to write so that I wouldn't be hard pressed to think of an idea tomorrow after lunch, then I asked myself what would be most useful right now for me and the consultants. Then the a great idea hit me. In fact, the idea is so good that I decided to split it in two sections and now I have a topic for next week too.

I love it when ideas hit me like a tonne of bricks. My muse must be massaging my grey matter. My fingers were dancing on the keyboard. I love the sound of clicking keys.

It ain't the trendy French shizz, but it still goes down easy. Okay, it does not really go down easy but it still gets you drunk as hell. If he likes it I will get him the illegal French shizz. With the worm and everything.

It's late. As always the telly is on but I am not really paying attention. Actually, I am deleting pictures and trying to figure out how come my damned Eyetoy ain't working as a webcam.

Something on the telly just caught my attention. CP24 is running an old news broadcast from December 30, 1986. There was a shooting in Scarborough that day. It is like nothing has changed in the past twenty years. Except haircuts.

Oh I give up! I'm buying a real webcam. Damn Eyetoy.

How can someone smell so bad early monday morning? I have no idea. I should've asked the guy who sat next to me this morning.

My desk smells like alcohol. My desk is having too much fun while I'm away. Wait. *sniff* That's not alcohol, that's pineapple.

*Sniff* *Sniff*

Someone's wearing Gardenia. I bet I know who that is.

It is hard being funny.

It takes a lot more time to think of something funny to write than it is to think of something dramatic and tragic.

"Comedy is hard," the old idiom goes. It's also very subjective:

"Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall down an open manhole and die."
-Mel Brooks

My hope as a writer is that you, my reader, find this blog to be insightful and humourous. To that end I am calling on all readers for suggestions on how I can make my life - and hence my blog - more exciting. Anything goes. Even ducks. And I hate ducks.