Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
The thoughts run so fast, and in a moments grasp, I struggle to keep up with them. Writing has become my niche, something that I strive to achieve in some way. My mind is always racing with ideas, and sometimes when I feel I have a good one, the opportunity is poor to strike. When things are busy, school, work, homework, and making sure I spend time with my girl, it can be tormenting letting the good moments go to waste.
Spending the entire day alone, pre-meditating the idea of relaxation, peace, and non-mental stimulation, I spend nearly the entire day working on a novel, trying develop a screenplay (which I know absolutely nothing about), and even finding myself drawn to the blog world.
It’s something that I don’t really understand, but when I can let people hear my voice, I feel a sense of power in it. My words seem so drowned out by the commotion of the crowed. I am just one single human being, facing the world from my own perception, trying to preserve a glimpse of it that might live it’s days past mine.
It’s past 1:30am and I am completely awake. I should be sleeping, trying to keep my body healthy, but my mind keeps turning, like a set of gears, fulfilling their purpose. When I started my blog I posted pictures all over it, mostly mediocre ones that I snapped while wandering town and trips, etc. It was all just to attract followers, but I stopped, and gave my blog a bland, probably non-attractive look to fill up with writings, and writings only. It’s what I do, it’s what I love, so why not share the true me? Pictures of random shit doesn't really define the messages that I try to communicate, so the beauty of language is what I produce, if I try to be a photographer, I’m only faking it.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
“Hey Sylvester” he said, petting an orange and white striped one as it purred at his legs. The sight of all those cats made me think of the crazy cat woman that lived down the street from me. She was so stereotypical, old and angry, but she loved her cats. In his room it was a different story. He had a giant flat screen TV, a shelf of movies, video games, CDs, and like three computer towers all hooked up to one another with surround sound speakers.
“Holy fuck.” I gasped.
“You like it? This room is where I escape the world. Or I guess I study it.” He turned on his massive TV, which he used as a monitor and went on the internet.
“Yeah it’s awesome.” I replied
“Hey John, if you could hack into anybodies computer who’s would you hack?” he asked in a curious tone.
“Hmm, well” I thought hard to try and give him an answer. What would I want to hack? I mean, there are so many things that would be awesome. I could change my information; change my grades, or my bank account. What if you could just add a couple of zero’s to the current number of my account balance to make life allot easier? “My bank account balance.” I answered.
“Oh yeah, that would be a good one. What bank are you through?”
“Um, BCE” I replied.
“Hmm” he squinted towards the screen that took up half his wall as if he could barely see it while he navigated to my banks website. “These guys have good security.” He replied. I thought he was just joking, trying to make it look like he was some professional hacker or something. I’m sure he wasn’t professional, but he seemed to know what he was doing. He made the computer go into some weird mode that was all numbers and signs like “<” with a line of words and “>**95673645.aza) 9000” something like that. None of it made sense but he typed things and made it look pretty real. “What’s your bank number?” he asked. There was no chance I’d give a complete stranger my bank information. “You need to tell me if you want your balance changed.” He replied.
“No way! I’m not giving you my account information. How do I know you’re not just going to steal from me or something?” I asked.
“I guess you won’t, but you won’t get a bigger balance either.” He replied. I couldn’t believe it; I mean his house was a piece of trash. He would have tons of money if he really knows how to do what he claimed he could, so I didn’t give it to him.
Anyways, I downloaded The Widows of Eastwick by John Updike and started reading it. I love Updike’s style of writing, how he manages to dig so deep into the desires of his characters. The story takes place in the view of an elderly widow, trying to get on with her life away from her husband. It was very difficult to imagine John writing this, as he has done such an amazing job placing him-self into a female voice. One of my English teachers absolutely loves Updike, mostly I think because he is an established Canadian writer. Digging into this type of book is outside of what I would usually pick up, but the experience is definitely worth it to check out. His style, voice, and everything is just so different from the ordinary. He captures feelings in a profound depth, and the way he speaks of things that I’ve actually seen is so accurate, it nearly gives me goosebumps.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
“Are you joking?” he asked, “You know what will happen if I let the justice system take care of it?”
She just looked at him with her mouth open unable to speak. She muttered, but felt silenced by the lump that seemed to be lodged in her throat.
He burst out, “They will do nothing or at the worst he might end up in a government paid vacation center. They feed them, give them free classes, take them for walks, give them gym equipment, they probably all become best friends, it’s a joke of a punishment is what it is. I’m going to get vengeance on my brother’s murderer if it’s the last thing I do, even if I have to die for it.”
Linda looked up at her husband’s behaviour and struggled not to cry. She was terrified at the anger that he possessed, the lengths he was about to take, she couldn’t imagine her husband not being with her and she didn’t want to lose him. “You can’t do that Scott.” she cried, “Please just don’t.” She looked at him in the eyes to judge if he was actually thinking about it or not. He looked emotionless except for a movement in his eyebrows that made him almost look like he was possessed. “You don’t even know that he was murdered!”
“It’s been almost two weeks and he hasn’t shown up yet, probably because someone tried to cover up their murder. I’m going to find out who murdered him and I will find them.” he reassured her.
Friday, December 17, 2010
“That’s what we’re doing.”
“On a laptop?” I asked.
“Yeah - Where else could we find information to dispose of two bodies?”
This girl was smart. I thought maybe we did have a chance. Who better to seek information from then the other psycho’s on the internet? There’s nothing you can’t find on Google. She searched the words, “how do you dispose a human body?”
The searches were endless. I went through page after page weighing the consequences of every idea that could be posted.
I found a random blog page with everyone’s ideas and this is what sparked the creativity.
The first one read,
“Place the body in a bunch of ammonia and let it chill out until it is completely dissolved. You should cover it in plastic so that the smell doesn’t make it to your neighbour’s house and raise suspicion. Place bowls of baking soda around the bathroom, use air fresheners. Be careful all of the parts are dissolved enough that they won’t back up the sewer system. That would be a sure way of being caught. When you get it completely drained, that’s it, you have a body gone from the face of the earth.”
Only if it was that easy I thought. I needed more ideas so we kept searching through but nothing but basic ideas from people who have obviously never been in the situation. One finally caught my attention.
“The hardest part of disposing a body is trying to not raise any suspicion when doing it. If you’re out in your backyard digging a hole, someone is going to notice. Try dissolving it and not have the stench of chemical and decomposing flesh seep into your neighbours or anyone else’s senses. The best way to get rid of a body is to slowly transport it piece by piece. It’s allot easier to dig a hole big enough for a hand or a thigh without anyone raising any suspicion then it is for someone to bury an entire body. If someone’s dog digs up an entire body, you’re busted. If it digs up a finger, it’s a likely chance it will be mistaken for an animal or eaten before it could even get a chance to be seen...”
The descriptions went on for another four paragraphs giving in depth detail about what I needed to do. It sickened me to know that that situation was common, but the knowledge was definately useful.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
This is an introduction to Jessica, a beautiful seductive female who John, the main character has fallen completely in love with. In this scene she is suggesting arson, which to John seems dangerous and exciting, but he doesn't have any idea what he's really getting into.
She looked into my eyes, creating a moment; it was something special but unexplainable. She continued driving. I had no idea where we were, but we were on our way to get gasoline so that we could burn down her father’s BMW and I don’t think she could have been as animated as I was. “Once my car is gone, there is no evidence for my existence here with my new identity.” stated Jessica. She didn’t turn her head to look at me but kept her glance out at the distance while she drove. “I had a fake ID made so that no one could track me down. This is the perfect plan.”
We pulled into a small gas station out in the middle of nowhere. It was an aged white building – the paint was peeling off of the edge, creating a classic rotting look and the road leading up to it was made of loose gravel.
Jessica stepped out of the car. Her long slender legs walked towards the pump, hips shaking with every step. She had a brand new jerry can in her hand from her trunk, as if she had already planned out the plot. I watched her fill it up, bring it back to the trunk, and she walked inside with the most trusting and honest look on her face to pay for it. I followed her in to grab a drink or something for us to share and I watched her. She went up, looked the clerk straight in the eyes and ordered the fuel that was going to create beautiful splendor destruction. Then she will be stuck here with me, I thought excitedly, forgetting about Stacy for the moment.
I walked up to the counter, trying to seem as confident as I could be. I became over conscious about my breathing and believed that I was breathing extremely fast. It was as if I was having palpitations, but I knew it was all an allusion from the massive adrenaline rush that was shaking my nerves. The long few seconds it took me to buy my drinks were soon over and I made my way to the car where I got in the passenger seat next to her. Again, we continued driving.
“Where do you think we should take it?” she asked whike I looked around at the passing fields.
“Why don’t we just drive it into the center of one of these fields or in the forest somewhere?” I suggested.
“Let’s do it in the forest. There’s less chance anyone will catch us doing it out there.” Enthusiasm and certainty rang from her voice.
“Okay. Jessica, are you sure you want to destroy this car? What if you’re making a mistake? Your dad’s not that bad is he?” I started to reason, getting a little nervous.
“You don’t know the half of it!” she snarled.
“Okay, Sorry.” I quicky replied, feeling kind of nervous.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
“What do you mean you couldn’t do it?” her eyes were wide, staring knives into me.
“I mean to go with your fucking plan is suicide. It is completely ridiculous that we're even considering doing something like this. We’re both out of our minds.” I replied.
“Calm down John, calm down.”
I was breathing heavy and my nerves were on edge, every muscle tense. “I’m calm okay. I was at her house last night. I skipped going home once again to try and pull off our plan, but when I got there, all I could do was see things going wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were sitting on her couch, not really doing anything at all. She read for a bit, gave me a message, and one thing led to another.”
“No John, you didn’t?” she looked panicked.
“I had to. She would know something was up if I didn’t.” It was completely mind blowing, like it is every time. I enjoyed every minute of it and I knew it was messed up, I mean, she was a psycho path killer. She killed my ex girlfriend, the girl I probably would have married if she didn’t come along.
“Fuck that - did you even think about the plan at all?” she asked me.
“Of course I did.” I rolled my eyes and tried to show how stupid her question was. I continued, “I looked around for an opportunity to slip her some of those drugs, but the thought of doing that to someone, it just seemed so sadistic. Besides that, her entire house is filled with my DNA in many forms. Having a house burning would do nothing but send evidence towards me – that plan has faults. What if the house didn’t even fully burn enough to do anything and it was put out. It would be investigated, leading everything to me. She was drugged, she would know it, and so would the police after finding a pill bottle or bit of her drink or something. The story would be that ‘I’m the psycho path because I drugged a girl and attempted to burn her house down with her in it.’ How completely fucked up is this idea.”
I didn’t even give her time to start her sentence. I just went on with what I was ranting about. “They would find gasoline remains on the house and know how unprofessional and demented we are. It was impossible for me to get out of any romantic situation without ruining it. Our lives are in danger by this woman, we have to be careful.” It was true, but for some odd reason I started to like it. I was demented and sick, manipulating two girls to do whatever I wanted. I have killed people, I could have done it again, and I would have if I ever needed to. I felt indestructible, it was a new form of experience, and it was a sensation of beautiful sadistic pleasure.
I apologize for abandoning my blog for a little bit. My semester piled up so far over my head that I was unable to find comfortable time to write posts. Although, while being under a constant state of stress, I found that writing helped take off the edge to everything. For a routine of therapy, as it seemed, I relaxed every time I just let the words spill out onto the pages. After enjoying this, I managed to create what I hope to be a fictional masterpiece. I decided that I am going to write a novel and would love criticism on my writing. I am going to hereby use my blog “Fixate” for pieces of fiction that I have created. I will update it every day, taking samples from my work, my book, and possibly some originals just for blogger. Feedback is what I need, your help is what I want, and I hope you enjoy some of what I post because it has become my art.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
University life is taking hold of me and grasping tight. I pull, trying to break free from the stress but it just continues to build. My outside life seems non-existent. I don’t think about relationships, family, work, or anything that should be considered important because I’m spending every spare second reading, writing, or studying.
As far as I know, this semester is going great for grades. I have had everything accomplished on time and I am on good terms with my professors. I have made some pretty neat friends that I sometimes have coffee with and chat about the empirical world, philosophies, or life in general. Other than my university friends, it feels like I’ve lost touch with all of my old friends. Time is so limited, the clock keeps ticking, and there’s always a pile of new work to be done.
I sometimes wondered why I volunteer myself to this as well as pay thousands of dollars. I have to constantly remind myself that it will pay off. It’s only a short term sacrifice and when it’s all over I’ll be a young professional with a university degree.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Every time I walk into my room I am taunted by my snowboard leaning against my wall that is being un-used. There’s nothing I would rather do than take a trip to the mountains and spend an entire day with my headphones in playing me uplifting melodies while I ride down the mountain carving on fresh powder.
Every year brings a progression of skills and the most insane moments shared with friends whether we board in the mountains or around town on jumps, rails, or whatever we can find to jib. Last year was a good year of progression but my confidence caused me to take a spill that still haunts me when I think about it.
I made it to a small hill outside of Edmonton called Rabbit hill. It sounds pretty lame but it’s known for its terrain park which was well put together. I was riding with a friend who is allot more skilled then I am, so of course I decided I was going to try and keep up. We were hitting jumps and I was landing grabs and 180 spins no problem so I started getting confident and hitting anything he would attempt. It was going good until I tried a front side spin onto a box.
For anyone who has never tried to hit a box at a snowboard park, it’s extremely slippery. I turned with my back facing towards where I was going and not judging my balance properly, slipped out. My feet came out from under me and I fell, hitting face first onto the box, and my head bounced off of it. After sitting down a couple seconds trying to understand what happened, I realised that my mouth felt extremely weird. I tried feeling my teeth with my tongue, but all that was left was jagged edges of my front teeth. I spit into the snow beside creating a pool pool of blood.
All I could think to myself was “fuck! My teeth! What have I done?!” I didn’t want to believe what had actually happened and I sat there still in shock. My friend came up to me laughing, thinking that my spill wasn’t that bad but when he looked at my face I could tell by his expression that it was bad.
I snowboarded down the hill after taking a few deep breaths and every inhale sent a shock of pain through the exposed nerves in my teeth. Once making it down the hill, my girlfriend was waiting for me eager to snowboard. When I made it to her, the first thing I said was, “We have to go.”
She looked at me with a questionable gaze and when I smiled to reveal my bloody mouth full of broken teeth she understood why. With a new season about to start and a painful nightmare still taunting me I need to find the courage to let myself ride without worry or fear and let my skills progress to yet another level.
Its fall but the weather seems to be getting warmer. It’s odd in Canada to see people wearing shorts and sun tanning in October. I was called into work to cut grass in parks that are still growing and I overdressed, expecting the air to be nippy and I ended up sweating all day.
The global climate is definitely shifting. Since I can remember the weather has turned into a cold frosty spring during October every year, usually snowing before November, but it seems that gradually every year, winter comes later. Last year we didn’t get snow until the end of December.
I always thought that global warming was bullshit and watching this weather change still doesn’t convince me of anything. The weather is changing all over the world. Last December when we were getting record heat and still no snow, there was record cold spells hitting Florida all over the news. When I heard I knew that something was happening to the world and it almost seems as if there is a global climate shift in a process, adjusting what part of the world gets the most heat, and which parts become cold. Perhaps the earth has been shifting angles or slowly changing its axes.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
I ended up doing the entire project alone, still not knowing what’s up with this guy because he has missed the last two classes. It took me about 5 hours of work today and I feel great that it’s finally put together, taking that stress off my shoulders, but I hope this guy doesn’t expect to take credit for my work.
You would think that someone paying for tuition fees and setting up their GPA on their permanent transcript would take more pride or concern in their work. Or if he dropped the class couldn’t he have at least been a decent enough person to reply to my attempts to get a hold of him and tell me so. I really hate trying to depending on people.
Monday, September 27, 2010
The closer I reach, the more things become consumed in grey
There’s a vision I've had, one that’s hard to explain
But with every explanation, it becomes washed away by rain
You're here just to change my perspective; change my life
Just stab at my dreams with a sharpened knife
But with every little change comes a deeper insight, still unclear
The more I realise, the less I seem to hear
Because everything becomes buried, covered in soil
Here's another attempt, perhaps this one won’t spoil
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Everybody has a different idea of what it means to be successful. To some its money; spending almost every waking second of their lives at a meaningless job they dislike, just for the pay cheque. They strive for the material gains and live day to day chasing the idea of wealth, becoming a slave to everything they own.
To others, the idea of success is in their social image, which guides them to seek education. Being able to say that you have a degree or masters, or PHD even gives people a feeling of accomplishment, while giving them a sense of security as well. Although this piece of paper may or may not benefit the individual, chances that that person will end up working a decent job or career they enjoy is increased exponentially.
Some people don’t even look at these social constructs of success, but instead live their lives day to day striving to find themselves beyond a social level. Life, love, relationships, and struggles all seem to be the majority of most people’s battles. No one I have talked to has yet seemed to have found themselves. It seems to me that everyone will continue to struggle, on an endless search, until they find themselves in their senior years of life.
Some of us need to give up the search, while still trying to live the best life we can, and enjoy every second of it. Or maybe this is just advice I need to convince to myself?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Bob Marley once said, “no one but ourselves can free our minds.”
In any lyrics to any song, this one has touched me the furthest. After realising what was being said I pondered the idea for a long time. The thing about this quote is that it is true beyond expression.
We all live our lives day to day dreading where our minds will take us. We are put into terrifying social situations that cause our mind to dread the anxiety involved with everyday life. These thoughts, torments, and common practices don’t have to be something normal if we can gain control over it.
We are who we tell ourselves we are. Even if we aren’t, it doesn’t matter because life is what you believe. My life is dramatically different from your life in more than just our physical bodies. Our interpretation of life, where to go, why things are the way they are, and our self identity in general will never even come close in comparison.
To leave you with that, ponder the quote from Bob Marley and try to find the truth behind it. Learn to let go of the worries, fears, and chains that your mind has tied to you because you are the only one who can free your own mind.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The world is a tightly wound chain, running because of the unequal distribution of wealth. We are all part of a class system, trying to reach the peak of success that our life enables us to achieve, and struggling to make it within the system. The system is only an idea but yet it causes suicide, depression, anxiety, murder, and most of the world’s problems.
What can you get a completely innocent person to do for cash? The answer is anything. Everything has its price and you can persuade the most moral of people to do the darkest most sinister of things with the promise of wealth. I like to believe that I am not one of the people that can be provoked by the temptations of wealth because I have the mentality of what it is; I understand the ideology.
Money is not something someone can own. It is property of the government, distributed in order to stimulate the economy. Once we have money, it is up to the government how much of that we are allowed to keep. We are unwillingly forced to pay taxes, buy food, pay rent, etc. Once money is put into our hands, it is only there until it is given to someone else and passed throughout the economy, just as the developers of the system had planned.
We are human beings. We are animals. All we need to live is food, shelter, water, and love, all of which are not a product of wealth. These are all natural products that exist in the environment. Obtaining these items is not most people’s worry. It’s easy enough to obtain enough resources for life, but then the societal view of comfort replaces people’s desires. There is only so much money and an unequal distribution at that. It is up to us, the individual, playing a role in the game of society to try to uncover the secrets, the trends, the following movements, in order to make the most out of the system. If we can find out the trends of society, we can use it to our advantage and make the wealth unequally distributed to us.
Although this idea may or may not work, we cannot base our lives on an ideology. If we have wealth then great, but if not, we can’t let the idea of poverty run us down. Too many people are going into debt for reasons such as trying to live up to the standards of their neighbours. An average person doesn’t need much to survive but the greed that causes people to put themselves into debt is disgusting. They are making themselves slaves to material objects, they are becoming slaves for things that they don’t need. This ideology can ruin you, but you have to stand strong and rise above it. Live to what you can afford and don’t worry about a thing because as long as you’re breathing, you’re okay, with money or not.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
The world seems so small and insignificant when compared with the rest of the universe. I think the problem of thinking about the universe is that our knowledge cannot comprehend what it is, or what actually may exist out there. It goes forever as we believe; but the question I want to know is what is it and what are we?
As far as the outside world is concerned, the main source of knowledge is theories of “what if”. So looking into this idea that anyone can come up with a theory of what we are or something to explain what it means to exist, here is mine.
A cell is made up of many different parts that all form the inside of the nucleus. Like a cell, the planets that orbit their solar systems also make up the matter that exists inside of a cell type structure, but at a greater level. Each galaxy is a section of this matter that makes up the universe and each universe is an energy source that forms its own cell like structure.
If earth, being part of what we know to be an infinite amount of planets, stars, and solar systems makes up a mere cell like structure, then we as inhabitants of the earth are barely existent in the reality of existence.
What these cell-like structures form is unknown. It doesn’t matter how much research is done, the world outside of our galaxy will remain unknown because the comprehension of what may exist does not exist within the limits of the human imagination. If our galaxy makes up a single cell then try to imagine the possibilities of what that cell may be part of.
Friday, September 10, 2010
I have lived by a guided set of rules that I believed to be a norm, but thanks to a class I am taking in sociology, I realise that I am not even close when related to others in the world. The daily activities that I go about, acting to remain within the social acceptability of my peers is no more than a constructed ideology that applies only within my country.
The clothes that I wear, the way that I speak, the actions that help me define my-self as a properly acting social being is just a product of my social environment. What scares me about this knowledge the most is that there is no possible way to judge if our thoughts or ideas are accurate to how we conceive them to be. We wander life blindly, just trying to conform to the social standard, but everywhere we go, the expectations that people have of us change.
“You know, George, you are pretty narcissistic.”
“What do you mean, narcissistic? Explain yourself.”
“You have a critical theory about everyone. You know everything about everyone, down to when they last bought their groceries to when they last had sex. What kind of god do you think you are being able to make such predictions about people?”
“Come on James, look around you. Everyone is performing within these social boundaries that govern all of our lives. Why do you work, clean yourself, mow your lawn, or do anything that you do? You are a victim like everyone else, trapped in this unfair system, just trying to survive.”
I watched James eyes stare up towards the sky in thought. He has never been the brightest guy, but always a good listener. He used to be a star athlete, but as life has been taking over, he has aged quickly, and you could tell something was tearing him up inside. He has slowed down physically as well, lacking in energy. He looked towards me with his fist clenched, ready to attempt an argument.
“You can’t say that. If you were so engrained in the system, you couldn’t possibly have that much insight into it. You do everything within boundaries also, everyone struggles.”
I interrupted, “Not everyone struggles as we do. The system was developed to benefit certain social statuses, certain images, class structures, and being a young poor adult, this makes us the scum of the system. There must be some kind of way that we can find the loop hole to make this system benefit us...”
“How do we do that?”
“I don’t know the answer to that yet, James. I need you to help me think of something. Let’s start by looking around at the social ties and connections with other people and try to find a connection that we can use to benefit us.”
“Okay... How about Martha, from across the street, how is she effected by the social system by your interpretation?”
I looked across the street at the tall mediocre green house across the street where Martha lived. She was an older woman that nearly everyone in the neighbourhood noticed, but no one talked about. She was a bitter old woman, and extremely obese. She was mean, fat, and severely unfortunate on her looks.
I looked over everything that I could see about her, analyzing her past actions, trying to think of an explanation for what she was. The only few times I’ve seen her are when she is outside her house in her driveway. Her husband, some guy who weighs like 90 pounds, is part of some huge company and loves to make sure that he puts himself into his social rank. He’s probably 200 pounds lighter than his wife and he is one of the angriest people that I have ever met.
“Forget about Martha, what about that douche bag Bill.” I blurted out, thinking about the past encounter that I had with him. It was when I was younger, maybe grade seven. A couple of friends of mine and I were lighting firecrackers in the park at night after we snuck out of the house and this guy came rolling up out of nowhere. It was dark, I was a little kid, and I was scared. This guy just comes in screaming, I thought he was going to kill us. He was in our faces yelling at us about how incompetent all of our parents are and calling them out. It was the most disrespectful thing I’ve ever witnessed. I was pissed off, being bullied by this guy. That was pretty much my only encounter I have ever had with the guy, but I have avoided him ever since.
James must have noticed the look of anger building up in my thoughts.
“Don’t start some rant about him. I know how much you hate him, you’ve told me one hundred times already. I want to hear your story on Martha.”
“What? I don’t have that much hate built up man. You are talking like I’m Charles Manson or something.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
My day overall was pretty unsocial besides one occurrence of possibly making a new friend. It was extremely disappointing to be wandering the halls searching for all my new classes alone, not really knowing anyone, when I strive on socializing.
The schedule system made my Thursdays really long and painful, so today was a day that I just wanted to get through and now it is all over. Well, almost, besides the huge pile of books that I am procrastinating going through.
Not many people around seem to be like me, but then again, it is only the second day. The majority of people here are probably feeling the same anxiety that I am about being thrown into a new environment. I guess there’s still time for things to start looking up, but then again, my new home, three blocks away was nice, especially when I had a two hour break in between classes to waste. I should be studying right now, reading books, writing assignments, but I am writing on my blog. I guess this has become my new journal.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Today, after attending my orientation for school, a friend and I decided to wander some pathways near my house. While making our way through the path, we found ourselves next to the river. We stopped, taking in breaths of scenery that were painted all around us. I went crazy with my camera and took some outdoor shots of the surroundings. We followed the pathway to a dead end in the industrial area of town, after climbing a fence to part of the path that had been blocked off. There were dead trees lying over the path and it had not been taken care of. Here are some pictures of our adventure.
The rush of adrenaline that causes your mind to slow down into single framed thoughts, every beat of your heart, rushing chemicals throughout your entire body, and the tingling sensations of thrill are all products that can be produced from something as simple as a skateboard. My board, is not long, but has bigger wheels than a regular skate. It is shaped a bit larger, and curved to resemble a surfboard. It’s not the traditional style of long board, but it’s the one that I ride and prefer. I’ve come to love the feel of my board.
Every little push, every little bit of momentum that brings me forward; it is done in a smooth glide with style, with a little help from my board and a sense of equilibrium. People who have never tried it can never understand the feeling. It is like a drug, with addicting highs of death defying chemical rushes. It takes me, at speeds of up to 50km/hour through traffic, around vehicles, down any hill that is paved.
With friends the rush can be shared, skills can be challenged; the motivation to go big is increased. It isn’t until I reach the height of my ride, nearly gaining speed wobbles, causing my breaths to increase and my adrenaline to peek, that I feel I have achieved a beneficial ride. The ride will always be there, waiting for me, taunting me.
Monday, September 6, 2010
The music industry has shifted course with the production of new artists. The availability of recording software and equipment has become more common, giving the average musician more of an opportunity to record. The future of downloaded music and online advertising such as myspace and youtube give artists more opportunities to share their brand of sound.
This is all fine and dandy besides the point that music is losing revenue in album sales, causing artists to focus more on merchandise sales. Due to this, music is losing its sound, putting more strain into their image and products rather than the music itself.
I have lost touch with the music scene, unable to accept any of the new artist’s bullshit. The music is getting worse with artists such as Lady Gaga and Justin Bieber. If you listen to this shit then you have your own issues to deal with, but I have found an alternate method to finding the most inspiring listening sensations.
It all started when I inherited an old record player from my Grandpa equiped with a bunch of records. While flipping through the old stack that was left behind, I found that some of the music had more energy and effort put into it than any of the CD’s that sat with dust in my collection. I listened intensely, finding oldie favourites to let the needle run over. The sound was vintage, not like the new age style, but had its own groove which created a music trip that I have been unable to experience any other way.
After over-listening to every good record that I found, I started searching thrift stores. They had piles of records for fifty cents each, so I just grabbed whatever looked neat, not really knowing what I was buying. The experience of getting a new sound with every vinyl that I put on and hearing something unrelated to today’s pop-culture was a mystery filled with excitement. Every new vinyl, every new sound, it was shopping for music without knowing what you were about to hear, aboloshing the artist image bias. The sounds aren’t new, but they are being re-experienced with a new generation of insight, and being enjoyed altogether as they should.
Friday, September 3, 2010
I got my room set up the way I like it. There is a shelf full of books, CD’s, movies, and other things, placed against my far wall. My guitars and amplifier, completed with an electric drum set, so that I am still able to gain inspiration from playing music. I wish I could have brought my acoustic drum set, but it would be useless with the little spare room that I have, and the neighbour would probably get angry, since it is a duplex.
It’s been nice, having a week off of work before school starts to try and adjust. I went grocery shopping for myself yesterday, buying whatever I thought I’d need for the week while trying to maintain a budget. I’ve managed to save an alright amount for this coming school year, but I’m going to have to pinch and be careful to make finances work out.
My mind is in an odd place these days, trying to accept my new life away from home, depending only on myself. It’s nice, but some things I miss, like being able to eat anything I want from the cupboards that are always packed. This week is probably making things harder, because every day I am searching for ways to spend my time. I am excited to enter the campus life for another year and let the chaos begin.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Early forms of art started with engravings in wood or stone, such as expressional carvings created by early Etruscans in catacombs or tombs. These engravings created an expression of the culture, the way of life, and the feelings associated with the culture. These creations are unique in their dating and authenticity as a product of time. These engravings could not be replicated and each engraving is one of a kind which creates a sense of authenticity.
Other examples are paintings that were created in cathedrals, which were only available to people only if they had the opportunity to enter the buildings where they were created. Early paintings represented the beliefs and attitudes as well as the artist’s expression which was one of a kind. Reproductions could not be created which added a sense value that could not be replicated anywhere else. Paintings and portraits only existed in the hands of the wealthy or on the walls of churches and it was thought to be a social status to obtain such items.
Today, the world of art has been taken over by reproducible objects and images with inventions such as photography. Photos and self portraits can be owned by nearly anyone of any social class due to the easy reproduction of photos and images. A painting can be copied, capturing every detail to perfection, so that it is no different from the original. The distribution of these images makes these images common, lowering the aesthetic value of the image and creating a unique cultural distribution of art.
Art is created and seen by nearly everyone, no matter what class they are part of. For example, the Mona Lisa painting has been redistributed nearly everywhere with duplications, internet images, and even t-shirt print screens. It is not just the wealthy that are privileged enough to witness the work.
The artist Michael Godard is a well known artist with his creation of life-like olive paintings. His paintings have been distributed and marketed all over the place with painting replications, web images, posters, and many other sources. Due to replication advances, anyone has the ability to witness these images, making the value decrease. Although each particular image is sold cheaply, the distribution and mass production creates new techniques for marketing of these objects.
Although these images can be seen nearly everywhere, there is still added value to authenticity that is exploited. While looking through the paintings at the mall, they had an entire store full of replicas of famous paintings. You could not tell the difference, other than the fact that each one would be worth allot more than it was priced if it was an original.
I asked the store owner if she had any originals, just out of curiosity and she showed me a painting by Michael Godard that he had painted in the store when he had made a guest appearance. The painting looked like a child’s finger painting with no talent to it. It was an olive with some splashed colours, but it was priced ten times higher than any other painting in the store. I studied it, trying to imagine who would actually buy it. Although it was the worst piece of art in the entire store, it was considered authentic because it was one of a kind.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
While working a summer job mowing lawns for the Town of Sylvan Lake, I managed to turn my experience into a form of art. It became a process of strategy, technique, and intricate line work, while I tried to turn every piece of grass into something beautiful. Although it was just grass, I feel that it is within human nature to strive for expression in every task.
Starting with music, I turned the guitar into an expression of feeling, playing with bands, trying to communicate myself within the boundaries of my instrument. It has always been a passion, an obsession even, to search for the art forms that exist. Starting with the art of guitar, I was motivated by music, and the obsession of expression consumed me.
My journey took me to the University of Calgary where I am about to enter my third year of studies working towards a Bachelors Degree. Majoring in English, I hoped to be able to express myself to the world, giving people inspiration, emotion, and a sense of belonging.
After reading many books and being blown away and finding myself disappointed with the movies made from them, I’ve come to love the impact of the English language. It is not just speaking, words, or images of experiences; rather it is someone’s emotions, inspirations, life, and expressions being shared, in the form of word. It is almost as if their mind has pasted itself onto a piece of paper, sharing every bit of the experience down to the thoughts, desires, and emotions.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
The movie was great. By the time it was over, we were both pleasantly buzzed. Our next move was The Vat, which is only about three blocks away. We walked with a drink for the road and made it to the door. We made it just in time to watch a band play some Jimmy Hendrix covers with intense enthusiasm. It was hard to not enjoy the atmosphere of the pub, while the guitarist of the band played wildly, thrashing on his strings. He even ended his set by soloing with his teeth.
After watching the bands set, we decided to head back. On the way home we howled at the moon like wolves. We stumbled, holding each other, laughed, and made it home safely. It wasn’t the night we had planned, but it was excellent anyway.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
People fascinate me. The way they act, speak, form groups, friends, make decisions, it all just seems so animalistic. We are animals trying to suppress our animal traits; we are holding back our true selves.
Every situation, it starts to feel exhausting, changing your image, acts, and way of speech, to try to make the situation as beneficial as it can be. It is like hiding behind a mask, but without acting, life would not run smooth. Trying to get by with grades, impressing teachers with topics you think they will enjoy, rather than giving them a full true expression. When it’s work time my image changes to a hard motivated worker. It gets me by in a workplace that has more drama than an episode of the OC.
What about friends? You don’t act like you would to your boss as you would towards your friends and it’s vice versa with your boss.
Trying to comprehend what must be going on in someone else’s head is useless, yet I always try. Judging actions, facial expressions, word choices, I give my full reading of what I think the person is all about. The fact of it all is that I will never come close to comprehension because this person’s knowledge, thought and consciousness are completely hidden from me, besides the expressions of the physical body. Just like me, this person is also an actor, hiding himself.
Lately I’ve felt lost in the art of acting. I feel that I am damn good at it and can use it most definitely to my advantage, but I need to express myself truly. It’s a weird thing to feel like you’re trapped in your own mind, unable to fully express yourself. With all the acting that we do in a day, how do any of us know who we really are?
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
“Run” I whispered. It was then that he must have noticed the terror behind my eyes because he didn’t hesitate to take my lead.
We both ran as fast as we could through the woods not knowing if we would make it out alive. I don’t know how long we ran for, but neither of us stopped. We ran and ran, never looking back. I could feel my heartbeat pulsate throughout my entire body, pushing a rush of chemicals through my brainstem. Nothing seemed real, I couldn’t hear or think about anything accept running and trying to save my life.
Jeff didn’t slow down; he kept up to me the entire time. I looked back, still running and I remember Jeff staring ahead with wide eyes, but I can’t remember anything after that.
“Are you okay?” whispered Jeff while kneeling over top of me.
“What are you doing?” I asked feeling and sensation of uneasiness in my stomach. Everything was disorienting. The walls seemed as if they were pulsating and there was a sharp pain in my head. I looked around the room at plywood walls, some of the boards were rotting with holes and there were bugs everywhere. There was an old tin can lying on the floor beside me and garbage piled against every wall. The place smelled like a swamp. It almost looked like a shed made completely out of trash. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? I just wake up in some shack and you have no idea where we are? Were we captured? Are they going to torture us?”
“Stop with all the questions. You ran head on into a tree while you were looking back. You were completely out cold. I had to carry your ass through the woods.”
“You carried me?”
“Yeah I did, thank me later and think about how we are going to get out of this.”
We both sat silent, looking at each other, our minds racing with thoughts.
“Jeff... Where are we?”
“I don’t know, I found this shack in the woods and decided to hide you here until you gained consciousness.”
Looking around at the place, I started to feel uneasy. We had no idea exactly where we were and we were hiding out in some random shack that was just set up in the middle of the woods.
“Jeff... What if this place belongs to them?”
Monday, August 23, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
As we grow from childhood, we are shaped by experiences that create who we are as a human being. Throughout our development, we are faced with desires, impulses, impressions, and an infinite amount of influences in which we choose to act upon or not. The influences that we experience work towards the shaping or influencing of our overall view on life and our self. The libido is a major factor in the self reflection that we possess, as it creates impulses towards satisfaction that we are forced to repress or act upon. We are all working towards an attempt to reach self satisfaction, although with the influences we encounter, this becomes a very difficult procedure as certain influences create conflict between our ideals we have created and the ego which strives for satisfaction.
While reaching towards the development of perfection, we put together our own view of cultural and ethical situations which influence us and create insight into the decisions that we make. Although we are all basically a part of a similar system of influences, some impulses or desires may go un-noticed by one person as the next person has a constant inner struggle with himself, trying to keep his impulses under control. The reason for this is the difference that remains in the ego ideals which people have created for themselves. One person, with strong ethical or cultural influences may shape his mental representation of life around the construct that he has created. As influences or desires enter the subconscious mind, if they interfere or come into conflict with the ego, or the cultural or ethical construct that the individual has created for himself, then they are sublimated or repressed, never reaching the conscious mind. If these boundaries are not constructed, then these impulses are able to enter the conscious awareness and in some cases may even cause an internal battle in the mind of the individual. The constraints are built around the ego ideal which is the ideal created by the person for himself. This construction influences the desires or wishes that the individual decides to give into.
The idea of narcissism comes into place when the ideal ego masks itself with an unrealistic view of perfection or self love. As the ego builds itself up, it creates an image of itself as having all perfections of value. This is often a construct that is created during the attempt to reach self love which is created by the repressed in the form of narcissism. As people develop from childhood, they are often disturbed by the ideas of others and their own critical judgement, since it changes their own views on what it means to retain perfection. Through the attempt to reach an ego ideal of perfection, it becomes impossible to reach the level of self love that has been achieved during childhood. The lack of self love achievable becomes the reason that these narcissistic boundaries are created, which often cause people to become ignorant of things around them, such as the emotions of others. The individual basically becomes so drowned in his own self love that he loses all sense of empathy towards other people.
Narcissism is restricting because it creates boundaries that do not allow you insight outside of your own world. When an influence interferes with an ego ideal, shaping the overall image that we have of ourselves, a cathexis is often created as a projection of hidden desires. Often, this can be a minor flaw, but on occasion, this can create disturbing fetishes or obsessions, such as a lust for shoes. We are all victims of the ego and the restraints it places upon us, but in most cases the ego does not become a problem until it has completely placed us in a state of self pride that limits us from the world.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
“Jeff, you need to shut up.” whispered Luke. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut we are going to end up buried in this forest somewhere.”
Jeff sat there sobbing into his hands and shaking uncontrollably. I watched him quietly, a knot starting to build in my stomach. The volume of his sobs were increasing and we had to maintain our composure. Looking into the distance, I could see the small blur of where our boat sat; docked, next to the borders of the forest, overlooking the far side of the lake.
“You seriously need to calm down. Things are going to be okay, we can get out of this. If you don’t settle down, we are going to attract attention. I am going to do everything I can to get us out of this mess okay?”
Jeff looked up with a look of fear and trust. “Did you know things like this went on here?”
“Do you think that I’d bring you here if I knew this was going on? I’m not completely out of my mind.”
“What is this; some kind of cult or something? These people are going to kill us. What if they find our boat before we get a chance to get out of here?”
“Jeff listen; I’m as scared as you are but if you don’t keep your cool this may be our last night alive. Please, please, please just relax, take a couple of deep breaths and try to think about something good.”
“Think about something good!? Stumbling into a situation like this cannot spark a positive feeling. Look around you. There are people being carried into some underground pits that these people must have been digging for months. Those weren’t machine dug pits and you seen how far they went down. There was no end to them. There are people in suits standing all over an abandoned forest. Anything could happen here. Anything!”
“I’m not going to take this. I’m going to get home and sleep in my own bed tonight and so are you. Follow my lead.” Luke slowly stood up from the hiding spot behind the brush. He took a couple slow steps towards the water where the boat was anchored, but before he had a chance to make a run to it, voices in the distance caused him to become paralyzed in fear.
“Boss; I found something.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a boat or something parked against shore. We’re not here alone. You think it could be cops or something?”
“I have no idea, but we can’t take our chances. Find whoever is in this forest.”
“We are dead, we are dead, we are dead. I wish that I could tell Mandy that I love her one last time.”
“Jeff. We are not going to die. We are going to find a way out of this mess.”
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The event started out with disappointment on Friday, due to rainy weather, but throughout the afternoon the sky cleared up to pave way for one of Sylvan’s best events. This was the second ever “Shake the Lake” to happen in Sylvan Lake, started by Incline Industries, with an attempt to create the largest BMX event in Canada.
There were people with skateboards and bikes all over town, enjoying the beautiful weather, the music, and the activities. A block away, at the local skate park, contestants of the competitions were practicing their tricks before entering the heat of the competition.
The Multiplex was packed with viewers witnessing the execution of the competitors, while they performed stunts that captured the attention of the entire crowed. The marvel that took place was a great success, and surprisingly, completely free.
Incline Industries put the event together last year with an attempt to try and create something that the town has never experiences. With the help of volunteers and sponsors, the work of the event was created to give everyone something to do, while creating excitement for the entire town, and giving local musician spotlight closer to home. The bands playing did an excellent job, as well as the competitors in the skate and BMX competitions. Shake the Lake was a memorable event that gave the town of Sylvan Lake a weekend that most will never forget.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
It’s hard not to agree that eventually our fate as humans is destined to be destroyed, but what Hawking suggests is that humans must leave earth to protect themselves. He suggests that everyone must leave to other planets and solar systems to create new homes in order keep the lifeline of the human race longer than that of the earth.
Even if this was possible, it would only take 50,000 years to transport human beings to the nearest star, Proxima Centauri with today’s technology, predicts Hawking; but that is clearly impossible. Even if it was possible to transport humans around the galaxy to seek new habitats, it would take hundreds of years of evolution to make them able to tolerate the new environments.
Humans have lived on the earth for thousands of years, evolving to suit the changing environments that they are part of. Our bodies are precisely developed to allow us to live with the resources that the earth offers. We breath oxygen which is given from plants, the atmosphere is perfectly suited for us, we eat the vegetation, the animals, and drink the water which sustains the lives of earths inhabitants.
There is no way to determine what resources may exist on other planets, but I believe that with our bodies, we would not be suited to survive without the existence of the earth. Without the earth we would be finished. There is no way we could create technology to transport us safely light years away with the oxygen, food, and water that we need, while seeking new resources. The search for a new home is useless, so let’s all just enjoy every breath of air that we take and accept that the earth is our life support because without it, we are all dead.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Here is a picture that I took today while driving out to my friends house in the country. The scenery was amazing.. there were light beams shining through the clouds across a field and the silhouette of the power lines gave me chills. It was better in real life and hard to capture in a photo with the technology I have.
On the way back there was a light show of lightning colours being displayed on the sky across the field. I pulled over, trying to capture an image of it, but it was difficult to get the proper shutter speeds and my reaction time was to slow. If anybody has any good lighning pictures, please share, I would love to see them.
I walked out into the street and pulled a man out of his car and threw him out into the street. I stepped into his car and peeled away before he would have a chance to catch me. While leaving I noticed the man trying to follow me on foot, so I decided to get rid of him and eliminate enemies. I backed up, driving over the man, while listening to his boned crush.
After that, I decided to drive my new stolen car as fast as I could. I held the gas, speeding up through red lights and intersections, speeding around cars, and watching the buildings around me start to blur together into a massive mirage.
It was hard to keep control and I drive up a small set of stairs, flipped the vehicle almost sideways, smash into a support beam spinning my car into a 360 degree spin, and two massive flips landing the car straight onto the road.
I was still fine and didn't even have a scratch one me, so I kept driving. While joyriding my car, it started to smoke clouds of burning embers, so I pulled over to let it cool down. When the flames got higher, I started running, listening to the explosion behind me. It threw me forward, nearly knocking me out, but I got up and kept running.
I stopped, realizing I was fine and decided to jump into a canal near-by.
After swimming pretty far out, I tried desperately to grab onto moving boats with attempts to become a pirate and steal them. My attempts were failures, so I swam onto a big rock, and in a rage, fired at random boaters with a sniper rifle. When I had trouble hitting the people that were really far away, I used a rocket launcher to blow their boats to hell.
After a few rounds of random acts of murder, the cops started to catch on. A helicopter was sent, so I used my rocket launcher to blast it out of the sky. I jumped into the water and grabbed a random boat of someone that I had killed.
I made it and started driving as fast as I could, but it was no use, they already had cop boats out. I could hear guns firing behind me. One hit me and the screen turned dark. That was how my life ended.
This is the life that thousands of children are using as an escape. This is the alternate reality that fuel entertainment, while glorifying mass killing. Murder is already a problem in North America, what is the point of making it into a game for kids to play. Children grow up believing that drug dealing, killing, and stealing are normal appropriate acts. It is no wonder the world seems to be getting darker, consciousness is developing a persona of emulated violence.
Using simulation as an example, video games and media play a huge role in shaping our minds and beliefs. I play this game, realising what a terrible nature it had, giving drug dealing, murdering thug a heroic part in a video game. I played it with enjoyment, but something in the back of my head was in fear to what this game is doing to the minds of our future generations.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Once the parade started I held tight and the pain worsened, while my bladder started to fill up. I gave a smile and still managed to wave, even though it got extremely difficult. The half hour parade route felt like hours, but I managed to make it to the end with dry pants. In a rush I passed the stop where everyone was taking down their floats and drove into a community centre parking lot where there was a rest room nearby.
I ran there as fast as I could, nearly pissing my pants the entire way to be face to face with a cleaning woman. She asked if I was camping and I replied, “no?”
After hearing my reply she told me the restroom was off limits to anyone who wasn’t camping in the campground. In a panic I told her that it was an emergency, but she refused to let me go. I ran back to the truck and couldn’t hold it anymore, so in an act of desperation, I pissed in the parking lot next to the truck. I hope she watched.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
It all started with an interest in paddle boarding. A friend of mine had introduced me to the activity while we were relaxing on his boat, SS Trouble, near the beach. We paddled ourselves on old windsurf boards that had been stripped of hardware around the beach. The best part about it was that we were the only people doing it. Over my years of living next to a lake and visiting the ocean to experience surfing, I’ve developed a love for the water. I looked everywhere for an old board that I could use for paddling, hoping someone would be trying to give theirs away. I hoped I wouldn't have to pay much sinse funds are always tight while in school.
It was almost two years of looking for a used board when I stumbled across one that looked perfect. It was during work when I found it and I noticed it against some ones garage. He was in working on something, so I decided that it was worth asking him about, thinking that maybe it hasn’t been used in a while. My hunch was right because the guy didn’t hesitate to hand it over, not asking for any money. I offered to get him some cash, but he just insisted that I take it.
I hoped for just the board, but I ended up with the full windsurf setup. I had no intentions of ever trying the sport, but now that I had one, I couldn’t wait to get out.
A couple days after, a couple friends came down with me to Petro Beach to give the thing a try. None of us had ever windsurfed and we had no idea how the setup was supposed to work. We rigged it up fast without thinking about it, or realising that parts had been missing.
We all failed miserably as the sail took off with the gusts of wind, throwing us violently off of our boards. The boom was loose, the sail wasn’t tied tight enough, and it was a hopeless set up, but we all just assumed that we weren’t doing it properly.
Although the first time was so terrible, I had developed a new fascination for the sport. I researched windsurfing with YouTube, and realised that what I was riding was not set up properly. After a few times out, some trips to the hardware store, and thick skin, I managed to create a ride-able rig, with the setup that I had been given.
After taking a few rides with my friend Joash, he decided that he had to have a setup of his own. With some internet searches, he found a setup that he didn’t hesitate to purchase. With two setups now running, the sport became even more fun. Every windy day, the day of work was spent thinking about windsurfing. We were both equally excited every time the conditions are decent, but no matter how much we try getting other friends to come out, we get shut down by their lack of interest.
Our attempts to bring back a dead sport may have failed, but it gave me a thrill that no other sport has given me. The wind pushes in gusts as the sail carves into the wind, like a kite, pulling my board across the surface of the water. The harder I can pull against the wind, the more speed that I can achieve. There’s nothing that can compare to it.
Getting into this activity has made me adore terrible weather. Whenever it’s hot without a breeze I am disappointed. Everyone is always so annoyed when I feel overjoyed by the sight of roaring wind and ride-able storms, but the obsession has overtaken me. It’s an old sport that has died in our town years ago, but Joash and I are living a vintage life, feeling the thrills of the past, getting a thrill from nature that most people never get to experience. Best of all; when it’s over, the scenery of the sunset creates an mind blowing image of beauty to end the evening.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
It is a common feeling to try and explain somthing and only being able to come up with simple metaphors that don't fully capture the phenomenon.
It was odd. When we knocked you could hear the dull moan of noises from their TV turn off. I could only imagine what the minds rustling inside this small country shack might think of visitors this late. They were probably enjoying their daily routine, now they’re scattering about.
It took them awhile to finally open the door. I remember it, it was big, red, and it creaked the moans of the dead when that haggard old soul answered the door. She looked terrified out of her mind. She peeked through the crack, hesitating to unlock the chain, staring at two half naked kids in the middle of the night. We were both chattering and shaking and all I wanted was to be at home with a giant pizza and warmth. I was so cold.
I asked politely if I could use her phone, just hoping find a ride home, and she made us wait outside while she got it. After she gave it to me, I called my parents. I was in the middle of telling the story of our situation, when the old lady cut me off.
She told me, “It’s all right. I’ll give you a ride home. I was scared you was one of those damn thief’s that keep coming around here.”
I thought she was a nice old lady and she invited us in to warm up, giving us tea and blankets. We sat on her couch for a good ten minutes, just watching the news while this old lady knitted.
She sat there, just minding her own business. The walls behind her started to bleed. I could feel it, and my head was tingling. The blanket felt really heavy, almost as if they were wrapping themselves around me. It was threatening to pull me into an abyss. I pushed it off of me, ignoring it, expecting that I was just feeling something weird from changing from coldness to heat so fast, but looking over at Wilber; I knew something wasn’t right.
His head was tilted to the side. His skin was pale, and there was a greyness tinge to him. He had his head tilted onto the pillow on the couch, half slanted. Blackness was consuming his eyes. He was a zombie, lying against a bright red couch, covered in little flowers.
I could feel my heart beat behind my eyes. It was pushing, making me see the pulses. It started getting higher and I could feel it causing me to feel pale, weak, everything was fading, I was fading.
I came to after hunching over and puking all over the carpet in front of the TV. My insides felt like death, my stomach was revolting; it was something I’ve never felt before. I was sure I was dying. It wasn’t until having the room spin around me that I awoke.
I was lying in a bed in some room. It was almost like a guest room. Everything was bright white, no color anywhere. It was an average size room with a single bed and a lamp post. It was dull and made something inside of me scream. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on.”
“Then what happened?”
“I can’t bring myself to remember. It’s almost as if it was painted out of my memory.”
While looking through pictures of last summer’s road trip, this picture caught my attention. It was hot, there was no air conditioning, and I was drenched in sweat. Keeping the windows open didn’t help anything because the air was scorching, but despite the sting of sweat, it was a time that will never be forgotten in my mind.
Somewhere in Oregon, where this picture was taken, some other life was going on. I was just a reflection in a window, with the lives of others going by un-noticed. As an outsider, the subtle movements of the inhabitants seemed to merely reflect my own simple life. The drama, pride, and everything else included with our social binding instincts, seems to keep the entire world traped within the same boundaries.
While other lives push on in their own direction, my 92 Ford Ranger pulled me through to the salty scent of the California coast. After making it down to Santa Cruz and spending a day on the beach, the truck didn’t sound right. It seemed a bit heat drained, while it worked hard to maintain its endurance. I was a bit in fear, not knowing if it would make it home 3000kms away, but I pushed it all the way, and she made it.
The memories of my adventure through the west coast of the USA continue to hit me vividly, each picture bringing back a different moment of scenic parade. If I could be anywhere right now, it would be on the bench seat of my Ford Ranger, riding the highways into the unknown, and making plans as they come.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
For the last five years, South Shore Music has been guiding children into the dream of performing with rock band classes and camps. Throughout the camps, students ages 8-18 are taken from having a basic knowledge of music and instruments, to being able to work with others in creating harmony among a group.
On Friday, July 23rd, two bands performed in the South Shore music studio, creating a show for family and friends. The bands were set up with a PA system, light show, and amplifiers. The first band, “4 S.A.K.E.” is a family band that had played together for the very first time. The band consisted of Sawyer, Ava, Kalyn, and Emma Schmidt. The second band, still un-named, consisted of Julia and Michelle Swarbrick, Cole Adekat, Andrew Bennett and Jonas Couture. Cole and Andrew are past band members and have been part of the program since January.
The show opened up in the dark, while everybody anticipated the talents that were about to explode from these young musicians. As they played, the lights changed colours, and the melody rang from their instruments, while their family and friends cheered them on. The bands played songs from bands such as The White Stripes and the Nitti Gritty Dirt Band, giving the students a chance to explore different styles of music and methods of playing. The young musicians were explosive with talent and not scared to show the crowed what they were capable of.
The world and the representations in which we hold have been manipulated by simulation. Over time, the over-use of simulation has become one with reality, making the simulated undistinguishable from the real. The term simulacrum is a term that “is never that which conceals the truth – it is the truth that conceals that there is none” (365), as stated by Jean Baudrillard. What is meant by this is that truth exists behind the images of simulation, although not as a representation, but as a simulations itself. With representation taking over and being re-created and adjusted through generations, representation may as well be reality.
A map creates a representation of a land mass, creating an image of what we know that land to be. It may be perfectly calculated to show roads, cities, and other significant land marks, but the map itself only remains a simulacrum of what it is meant to represent. The map remains a reflection of reality as it is only a mere representation of the real, but in its essence it serves a purpose unique to what it was designed to do.
The creation of religion is a perfect example of simulation making the real, or creating a simulation of reality. With symbols and images, the Christian religion is told through stories and ideas which were thought to be protected by its images of representation. As an attempt to abolish Christianity, early Romans attempted to do so by destroying symbols or images relating to the ideology. The symbols, a simulation for the religion did not possess any real; rather they signified an interpretive underlying truth. Even if every Christian image was destroyed this would not change the mentality held in the minds of believers, as the true interpretation remains within the minds of individuals. The ideas have already died, but continue to exist with images and simulations that have been created to be a reflection of truth.
We are all victims of simulation, becoming part of a simulated game of non-existence. Most of what we know, or believe, is false as it is merely a simulation created by the simulacra of politics. We are a society that runs on the creation of equity and capital. Although we have an idea of worth and capitol, the product in which we base our own worth on is a non-existent phenomenon. We work our entire lives for capital gain which is nothing more than a shared belief within society, but the shared belief creates the reality of realism. By participating in the economy, we are all unknowingly part of a simulated game and organization. Advertising, media, and the constant flow of images creates the interpretations and meanings which we hold as a believed truth.