un autre jour…

Looking through the posts on this blog, I realized that I had already done those little quiz things on this journal. So I’m doing one again this year. Here goes…

You Are 28% Emo

You’re definitely not emo, but you do understand emo people a little. You are introspective, but not to the point of driving yourself crazy.

Are You Emo?

Well, this something I already know. I think if I had taken this test at a much younger age, I may actually qualify for the label.

On another slightly related note, I just picked up A Checkered Past: The 2Tone Collection a compilation of the music I listened to back in high school. At the time, I wore the Doc Martens and the black jeans; I had a plaid shirt and an olive green bomber jacket; My hair was cut real short (though not shaved, too much drama if I went that far haha). When I was in uniform, I would be in a shirt and tie and brogues.  I stopped short of the hat (mainly because I couldn’t find a decent Trilby in the vintage shops on Spadina, hehehe)

We were the ones writing the school paper, and we were the angry, noisy, anti-Establishment voice. And we were also on the Honour Society and the Student Council. But mostly we would tap kegs, slamdance at school parties, and occasionally pick fights with the ginos for the prime spots in the parking lot.

I wonder at times if we’ve all sold out, if Shawn and Dylan are slaving away in an office right now, listening to a compilation album…

Because I may doing this now. But I haven’t sold out to anyone or anything. This is my life, and I got exclusive rights to how it goes.  Non Serviam, baby.

Heath

They finally find an actor who I think is decent enough to play the Joker…. and he kicks the bucket after one movie.

I never really got to see his other movies. Brokeback was dragging… and his earlier movie, something about knights in armour and whatnot was well, fluff… But I liked him in Brothers Grimm, and The Patriot. And to think he died in the middle of filming a Terry Gilliam movie.

Well, they say he ODed on pills. I really don’t know what was going on in the last minutes of his life, but I guess I’d like to thank him for standing out from the drek that populates many Hollywood studios nowadays.

Till your next life, buddy.

Cheers.

Ennui

I interestingly enough first came across this word during the times my friends and I would play the roleplaying game (RPG) Vampire: The Masquerade.  It was a trait a vampire possessed that essentially portrayed one as phenomenally bored with the passing of centuries of unlife.  Ennui, in game term, essentially left the character as one with an almost inhuman point of view, an annoyance with the ephemerality of the world around them, and a sense that, when one looks at it all, immortality isn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Why do I bring this up?

In a certain sense, I’m terribly bored with the way things are.  As a student of history (my university major) one realizes humans essentially just end up committing some mistakes (war, for one) over and over again.  The adage those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it, rings true even in this day.  And well, it’s just so frickin’ boring.  Worse part is, these things have happened (and will probably continue to happen) in my life too.  Is it human nature to be perpetually stupid in that regard.  Is this the price for the blistering pace of progress?  That although we can innovate at frightening speed, we’re doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over in other areas?

Such an existence is marked by a lack of… I don’t know… discernment?  consciousness? honesty?  Or maybe life just moves so fast that we fall back on old patterns of behaviour when confronted with new situations.

I think some time to take stock and really see how I’ve been living my life.

new year, not so new blog

So, i’ve rediscovered this blog, which places my introduction to the “blogoletariat” a lot earlier than I had thought.  I’ll probably be posting a lot more here, now that I know where it is again.  I’ve decided to make 3×5 my more laid-back counterpart to this blog, so I do hope you drop by here too.

Happy New Year, all.

quiet

i. have. nothing. to. do. today.

*sigh*

interesting…

I started taking up French a couple of weeks ago.

And i just noticed, just like Spanish, the method for expressing age in French is to say “how many years you’ve had”. (e.g., Elle a vingt-huit ans – she has 28 years.) Unlike English where you simply say “I am…” or “He is…”
No wonder the English-speaking world is so messed up.

You are definitely not your age, among other things, really.

You are far more than any of that…

There is More Here than Meets the Eye

I’ve always had a pretty good talent for underestimating myself. For selling myself short. For sabotaging anything I do to make myself grow beyond the person I see every morning in the mirror. And while I’ve spent quite a good deal of time figuring out why this was so,I haven’t really gotten around to doing anything about it.
So what if I was raised with a twisted conception of what food is supposed to be? So what if my intellect gave me a ready excuse from the physical activity that might have ensured a better physique in the present? So what if events in my life had scarred and shaped my psyche into this fearful, rationalizing, self-loathing monster that seeks to lash out at everyone around me who gives a damn?

I have learned and even experienced moments in where I thought there was some sort of hope. There were more than enough lucid times. I have felt and seen the heights of my being, glimpsed a potential that was within the possible. I had felt the truth of the transience of this existence, and yearned to be more. I have done much. But time and again, this despair comes back to haunt me.

Many friends and loved ones have tried to pull me out of the muck of my life. And quite a few have been successful, for a while. To this gallant group of people, I wish to convey my sincerest and deepest gratitude. I can honestly say that the people around me have tried everything to make me see that there is more to my life, more to me, than what is apparent.

And yet, as has usually been the case, these friends give up on me. And sadly (I hope) see me retreat deeper into my cavern of self-loathing. It takes two to tango, as the saying goes, but time and again, I just don’t feel like dancing.

I’ve let so many people down already.

I feel like a butterfly, suddenly terrified at realizing that the walls of the chrysalis were too thick. And that the crucible that nurtured and sheltered a growing and vibrant spirit, might actually have been a constricting tomb.

I can’t get out. I want to get out.

Help.

There is more here than meets the eye.

Damn it, how come I can’t see it?

A String of Moments

That’s what life is, and most of the time (in my case anyway) I find myself being carried away by them, or being too much into them, or pondering about them overmuch.

Which makes other moments just pass me by.

Who knows of the myriad opportunities I might have missed because I end up dwelling on things that have hurt, bothered, irritated, or inconvenienced me?

How much longer will I let this self-inflicted myopia of the past continue?

Why can’t I seem to let go?

What will it take for me to begin to live?

I’ve done it before. And even now, I try to hold on to those moments as examples of what I try to yet become, again. But in holding on,I just perpetuate this rut.

I need to let go, let go… let be… and live. Now.