Know your fruits.

Today, I visited my dear old myspace page.  HAH!  So 2006… Back when internet communication actually meant something…to me, at least.  Back when I was obsessed with msn and had to be on it at all times just in case someone wanted to have a terribly shallow conversation with me. It’s actually pretty funny to think that I talked to people on the internet that I saw pretty much every day in real life.  And now I never see those same people ever and I don’t even bother talking to them on the internet.  I guess that’s what facebook is for, theoretically…but facebook’s made it so easy to know everything about some people without ever actually talking to them.  I actually feel kind of gross about that.  I must come to some sort of difinitive conclusion about it in the near future.  Because there has to be a balance.  I don’t want to know everything about people.  It’s not real.  It’s just a cheapened version of the original.  It’s filtered so that it will catch the right eyes, or be spun in the right direction.  I’m tired of being the nosy stalker.  If I want to know something about someone, I should have to ask.  Make it worth it.  Make it for realzzzzz.

This may be the most for realzzz I’ve been in a while.  Purely animal warpath type instincts. Gawsh.

Probably an over-romanticized reflection upon Halifax.1

School is ending.  I’ve been here for almost eight months.  I remember the first day I got here when Angela and Jeremy met me with my house-like luggage at the hotel around the corner.  I met all these people who I was terribly afraid of for at least a week, until all their parents left them to be shaky and alone just like me.  Now we beat each other up in the hall and stay awake til 3 in the morning for no reason other than to hang out.  We must be friends.

I’ve learned a lot…in school, yes…but also about myself and about living.  I’ve made some stupid decisions.  I’ve made a few good ones.  This year has been really fulfilling, yet tough.  And I feel like the subsequent ones will fly by.  And then I’ll be tossed out on my ass again. Hopefully I’ll get back up with some kind of direction next time.

I guess I’m writing this because I am sad that it’s over.  I mean, I am looking forward to next year…but before that comes I have to go home. And I’ve done home before.  I love it…but I want out for a while.  I love my family and the friends that I have back there….but I want to experience here! Oh well…I’ll go camping a lot.  I’ll get my frikking license and pack my weekends with adventures.  I’ll visit people all over.  We’ll have pool parties and maybe there will be and arty kid around somewhere who wants to do arty things.

There, I’ve successfully infused myself with positive attitude.  I’m ready to go home….after I get through my last few weeks.  And like Lauren, I hope to stay alive until they’re finished and beyond.

Anything you upload to Facebook can be used by Facebook in any way they deem fit, forever, no matter what you do later.

Facebook owns you.

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/17/technology/internet/17facebook.html?ref=technology

 

 

Ach du liebe Zeit.

alert but not alarmed

it’s funny how these days, when every household has its own intercontinental ballistic missile, you hardly even think about them.  at first they were issued randomly.  back then it was exciting: someone you knew might get a letter from the government, and the truck dropped off their missile the following week.  then every corner house had to have one, then every second house, and now it would look strange if you didn’t have a missile next to your garden shed or clothesline.  we understand well enough what they’re for, at least in a broad sense.  we know that we need to protect our way of life in an increasingly dangerous climate.  we know that everyone must participate in upholding our national security (by taking pressure off arms-storage facilities) and, most importantly, be rewarded with the feeling that we are doing our bit.  it’s a modest commitment.  we only have to wash and wax our missile on the first sunday of every month and occasionally pull a dipstick out the side to check the oil level.  every couple of years a tin of paint appears in a cardboard box on the doorstep, which means it’s time to remove any rust and give the missile a fresh coat of gunmetal grey.  a lot of us, though, have started painting the missiles different colours, even decorating them with our own designs, like butterflies or stencilled flowers.  they take up so much space in the backyard, they might as well look nice, and the government leaflets don’t say that you have to use the paint they supply.  we’re now also in the habit of stringing lights on them at Christmas time.  you should go up the hill at night to see the hundreds of sparkling spires all around, twinkling and flashing.  plus there are plenty of very good practical uses for a backyard missile.  if you unscrew the lower panel and take the wires and stuff out, you can use the space to grow seedlings or store garden tools, clothes pegs and firewood.  with a more extensive renovation, it also makes an excellent ’space rocket’ cubby house, and if you own a dog, you’ll never need to buy a kennel.  one family has even turned theirs into a pizza oven, hollowing out the top part for a chimney.  yes, we all know that there’s a good chance the missiles won’t work properly when the government people finally come to get them, but over the years we’ve stopped worrying about that.  deep down, most of us feel it’s probably better this way.  after all, if there are families in far away countries with their own backyard missiles, armed and pointed back at us, we would hope that they too have found a much better use for them.

 

 

 

 

 

shaun tan

This blog is boring.

Nothing good ever happens.

Christmas.

You look great!

Really? I have back rolls.

If she asks, I’m going to say I’m trying to gain weight for wrestling. Sumo wrestling.

The dog barked during my home recording session.

I wish I was less uptight…In some ways. In other ways if I got any less uptight I might just become a pool of  boneless matter on the ground.  You know what I mean.  I know what I mean.  And now I have to go and criticize some dude’s artwork.

Thursday August 31, 2006.

	good morning
	hey
	are you on the new comp?
	yes
	with sketchy internet
	dialin’ it up?
	no…its wireless and i am picking up the signal from a public access thing..lol..or it could be not so funny
	you look very feminine in that picture
	heh
	why thanks
	public access!
	what do you know that i don’t?
	tell me so i stop worrying
	or worry more
	the question should be asked by me
	where y’all gettin’ public access?
	no idea
	it is just there
	lol
	in tha hood?
	i suppose
	it comes and goes
	depending on where i am in the house
	ha
	so Xxxxxx found a place to live ?
	yeah
	and then starts second guessing the whole venture a week before she leaves
	that is what happens to everyone
	i second guessed my whole after highschool plan many many times…even 4th or 5th guessed it
	but she went to Western to see if she could go there instead
	seriously checking to see if she could
	yie
	it is serious business..walking out your front door and spending all of your money
	yeah
	spending one’s future money
	yep
	hoped for future money
	hehe
	so what’s up with you? gimme some dirt
	(so to speak)
	i hate life
	but i like it too
	so you don’t hate it hate it
	you just love/hate it
	yes
	gah
	i anticipate school
	i need to do a bunch of work on my car
	i have lingering boat projects
	and now play in two bands?
	for a little bit
	eh?
	what other band?
	Xxxxx Xxxxxxx
	today’s band
	i missed it
	i came on my break..i had fifteen minutes
	aha
	and then i punched out 12 minutes early so i could come before everyone left
	that is why i thought you were there
	yes..probably…how did the second band happen?
	who is in it?
	Xxx Xxxxxxx, Xxxx Xxxxxx
	two young talented guys
	they needed a guy to learn some stuff for shows
	i’m not really in the band
	i just learned their songs, and played with them
	cool
	busy busy
	are these guys like 15 -17ish?
	i guess so
	jah

	hey
	word
	up
	are you in another city?
	nope
	i am in uxbridge
	swen do you head out?
	mondai
	aha
	so.. happy birthday
	i remembered, today
	this morning
	hehe..thanks
	my calendar didn’t even get a chance to remind me this week
	you are still busting your backside with stuff?
	still busting the business out?
	whatchu been up to?
	slowly cleaning and fixing things
	getting ready for school
	how ’bout yourself
	i did my piano exam…went camping…shopping…working…sitting…worrying..that kind of stuff
	level 8 are ye?
	camping!
	shopping
	yesh
	all those things
	it has been grand, being a kid…but those days are agonna
	unless your’e constantly a kid
	but still not
	there are ways of constantly being a kid…but in other ways you have no choice but to grow up
	the experience that you put behind you has grown you up whether you liked it or not
	for me…100% permakid  no longer exists
	but you already know all that
	i guess i can detail my statement, with personal fringe
	childhood sucked, not because i had too much time, and too much fancy free’d being
	but because i knew not much, and it bothered me, so personally, knowing things and still having a fancy freeness despite loadedness, works nicely

	i suppose it does
	but you are still not a child
	yes i am
	ha!
	i am not a dragon
	i am not a wizard
	i am not a principal
	i am a child
	and i will always be a child
	[wah] milk
	i wish i could understand you
	i wish i could understand kittens
	and why they become boneheads when the become cats
	because they learn that the world is not as nice as it seems when they are a ball of fuzz
	exactly
	stuck in what the world has to say
	thousands of years of drowning cats brings out bitterness
	slam
	that is crazy
	quite possibly
	i feel all sorts of good things toward you…forgiveness, if that is in order…healing, and hope..i feel that when i am not talking to you ..but when i am i just want to get mad..but you don’t get mad back and i know you never will, so the purpose and the feelings are defeated…and i am going to regret sending this
	actually, i got mad for a second
	do tell
	so please forgive my unsympatheticness
	unsympathetic to what?
	wishing one could be a kid again
	i don’t think that deserves any sympathy anyways…it is ridiculous in its very concept…
	thats what I was thinking kind of
	i just really like being this age
	and ten seconds later, that age
	do you think it has anything to do with change? or the lack of it?
	or the expanse of it?
	constant
	though, some things not changing
	change in stages of life
	yeah
	maybe if you’re a smidgen afraid, it is natural to draw comfort from a pleasurable time when such a fear of doing the life staages (jumps from place and circumstance to new place and circumstance) was inconcievable.
	when dinky cars ruled the world
	exactly..like will you love every ten seconds of being 40?
	or will you look back on your 20’s and reminisce longingly
	and from now on..if you’re mad..say so
	geez
	well i didn’t really feel like getting mad before
	so it started tdoay
	mad at me? or mad in general
	at you
	in general. i find it very easy to get mad at inannimate objects
	well..i’m almost as easy to get mad at i should think
	no, not even close
	inanimate objects…. they’re the worst
	holy smokes they get my blood boiling
	all not moving and stuff
	hyeah
	when i have the plague
	in my fortys
	i would look forward
	like today, looking forward
	not to live there alone (in the future)
	but to enjoy now because whether its supposed to suck or not, at least it won’t
	and when it does happen to suck, if things can ever suck again, a little butterfly swings its arse on by, and i remember that i am allowed to like things
	so when something doesn’t like me, i can deal with it
	if things can ever suck again?
	as in, a person lets themselves be emotional
	right
	as opposed to being an inanimate object
	strangely enough, yes
	well..i guess, this has been okay
	it has been for me
	i write better than i speak, but also worse
	maybe over time, we’ll understand better
	maybe i’ll understand better
	i’ll talk to you later…sometime…have a good life til then..hope school goes nicely
	school will be interesting
	hope yours comes to life
	yeah
	it will
	no doubt
	bye

 

 

 

 

 

[And all of this means?  --I am a tool.]

It’s not my blog

Save the Internet | Rock the Vote

This guy sucks.

I will make art purely for the sake of self expression.  There are enough people in the world that someone is bound to identify with my particular brand of crazy.  What is art if it is not a piece of who you are?  Even when someone produces a socially or politically charged artwork, they are still expressing a feeling they have toward whatever idea or thing it is they are portraying.  We talk about art being beautiful…but there is so much art that is not beautiful.  There is so much art that is butt ugly, dirty, and unappealing.  Yet these pieces–unappealing as they may be– are still considered artistic.  What is left for them then, but to be the product of self expression?  I guess you can have both….I mean there is thought given to the audience that will be viewing your finished product.  That will have some influence over how you make your piece.  But ultimately, you made it.  You expressed it. Represented it.  Is this even the argument anymore?  All art is self expression.   Maybe the question is: why do you express yourself?