tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78388050465203838502024-03-12T18:13:54.091-07:00Nick Likes to Write StuffNickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-10938905697556238452011-10-04T20:12:00.000-07:002011-10-04T20:12:08.910-07:00FightingI am not a fighter, not even close. I have not been in a fight since Grade 13, 1993. And that fight consisted of me kicking a guy in the balls and him cuffing my ear. I'm not sure which hurt more...<br />
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I take pride in the fact that I have not been physically violent since then. But I also have this weird impulse, deep down, to see if I could step up and kick some guy's ass. Luckily, no matter how drunk or belligerent I feel, something inside always stops me. What's even weirder is that somehow, mystically, that force seems to stop others.<br />
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I have literally thrown myself in the path of fights. I did it at the Slayer show in 2006, I've done it at the Dom a few times. And yet, I didn't get pounded. The guys involved saw this goofy, happy drunken Metalhead and stood down. I helped to diffuse violence. There isn't much in this world that fills me with pride as much as that. Why? Because real violence simply isn't worth it.<br />
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And the funny thing is, I should have been suckling at the teat of violence. I'm the youngest of seven, six of whom are boys, and my earliest memories are of family members beating the snot out of each other. Luckily I had a buffer from all that testosterone, my sister Suzie. She was born in '72, after six boys, like some kind of miracle. What was an even greater miracle, or pratfall, depending on your humour, was that after her came one last boy. I was supposed to be Sylvie... Whoops.<br />
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So there I was, stuck 4.5 years between me and my next older brother. So while they played sports, I sat inside, being too small to join in (not that there weren't grandiose moments where my brothers would use me to make awesomeness happen, like the crabapple-shooting go-kart). So I did a lot of reading... I got into Masters of the Universe and comic books. And I entered high school as a total geek, not knowing how to be cool. And I got bullied, harassed, disappointed, etc.<br />
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I was suicidal at ten years old. I was a miserable little guy. But you know what? I had a moment of clarity, where I realized the second-story drop would hurt more than kill, and that was it. I contemplated suicide after that, but never with any conviction. I fought it. And I cannot be more grateful for that ordeal, because I got it over with early. I see loved ones still contemplating horrible acts and it pains me. Why? Because there should be no bully so strong as to extinguish the joy of what life has to offer. Whether it's fiction, sex, food, booze, whatever. Nothing should be that strong.<br />
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But in the end, some of us can't fight it alone. To you, I offer my support. Talk to me before you think about it, I might be able to change your mind. At least I hope someone can. @gutfrag on twitter.<br />
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I should have been dead a long time ago, a pathetic statistic of the effed up way life is lived these days. But I fought. And fighting is its own reward. There's nothing more satisfying than looking your failings and faults in the eye and saying "I'm better than you and I can prove it!" So, if you're thinking of ending the fight, hopefully you'll try one last time. The fight itself can be worth it for some of us...<br />
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Strive on my dear friends!NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-51826037905608213332011-10-04T12:44:00.000-07:002012-01-11T19:09:27.200-08:00Size matters, but should it?<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hi there!</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I've been wondering a lot lately about the issue of "sizeism" - i.e. being prejudicial towards people for being too fat or skinny (and let's be honest, it's the former that is more often at issue). A few of my more activist friends are often bringing up the issue of "fatphobia" in relation to ad campaigns and the like. The most recent was in relation to a vegetarian activist group posting a cartoon with a bunch of obese individuals asking "where do you get your protein?" to a bunch of fit vegetarians. It kinda made me lose it. First off, healthy eating isn't about WHAT you eat (omnivore/vegetarian/vegan/zombie), it's about HOW you eat. Sure, that vegan quinoa casserole might not cast a shadow, so it's OK to eat, but if you eat half a pan in one serving, you're bound to notice it in your belly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now, I admit I am a recovering "sizeist". In fact, I broke up with an ex a few years back because of the issue of her weight. Well, I was more upset about her constantly talking about getting the "perfect body", but doing nothing about it and eating poorly. Still, I was a jerk about it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">I think I've gotten over it since I am head over heels in love with a woman that some would consider 'fat'. But that isn't the point of this post. The point is this: there is a measure of validity to evaluating a person's weight in relation to their health. Criticizing someone purely for being overweight in and of itself is wrong and needs to be fought, but in an age where the life expectancy is shrinking due to an ever more sedentary population, we need to be honest about how we look at the issue of weight. Obesity is a serious health issue and I'm sorry, if you're obese, it's difficult for folks to simply overlook it. Especially when their taxes are paying for your ill health. As a smoker, I am fully aware that I have earned the right to be shat on for my unhealthy, harmful and tax-draining habit. Shouldn't someone's McDonald's habit be subject to the same scrutiny?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's an unfortunate reality that all fat people are tarred with the same brush. An overweight person is subject to constant scrutiny, bombarded by conflicting advertising ("Lose 50 pounds with Nutri-fit!" is followed by an ad for the Baconator) and possibly caught in the loop of depressed-due-to-being-overweight/overweight-due-to-being depressed. And I know a whole bunch of people who might look "overweight", but are in far better shape than most thin folks! So what is to be done?</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Well, that's going to be the focus of my write-up to follow. But first I need to vent a little. Yes, it's totally wrong that overweight people are subject to mockery, prejudice and marginalization, but if you're over 300 pounds due to dietary choices, sorry, you can't use the excuse that you're a victim of "fat-shaming" to justify bad eating habits. You can't scarf back 5000 calories a day of crap and expect to be immune from criticism. Yes, there is a staggering number of negative influences that shape bad eating habits, but the medical facts bear out that you're still doing yourself a frightening amount of harm. Not to mention common sense! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Whatever the causes of poor eating habits are, it's your responsibility to overcome them and at least try to eat better. You shouldn't have to do it alone, no doubt about that. But in the end, it's YOUR responsibility to ensure your own health, if only from a social perspective. The socialized medical system won't be able to handle the pressure being exerted by an increasingly unhealthy and obese population. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;"></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">And don't think I'm immune either, I KNOW I need to eat better and I have a few pounds to lose and I have no problem with anyone reminding me of that fact or criticizing me for "letting myself go". This is a contentious issue that hurts feelings in a heartbeat. But we need to look it in the eye and be brutally honest about it without feeling like a bad person. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now, none of this means society shouldn't help a little. </span><br />
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<u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">September 30 2011</span></u><br />
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</span><br />
<u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Proposed Measures for Improving Eating Habits among the Canadian Population</span></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1) Nutrition, culinary and health awareness education in schools: </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- All children should be taught to cook, with an emphasis on using healthy ingredients and cooking on a budget. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Secondary schools and post-secondary institutions should provide facilities to allow students to make their own meals. Cafeterias can sell ingredients in addition to prepared foods. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Cafeteria food would need to be re-evaluated and menus overhauled to include healthy choices. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- All annual check-ups in schools will include an evaluation from a nutritionist.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Programs will be implemented to heighten awareness of self-esteem and bullying in order to curtail problems related to depression and overeating. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2) Support to parents:</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Affordable subsidized cooking lessons should be provided to adult populations. Possibilities include workshops in community centres, the workplace, religious institutions, etc.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Healthier ingredients will be made cheaper.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3) Popular understanding of health effects of poor eating: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- A massive education campaign will be launched in the same vein as anti-smoking campaigns, using shocking imagery and direct language to emphasize the ill effects of bad eating habits as well as adding emphasis to the benefits of home-made meals over processed foods.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Workplace campaigns for positive body image and good eating habits that focus on boosting persons' self-esteem. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4) Encouragement for an active population: </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Public facility gym memberships will be partially subsidized and gym classes will be made mandatory for at least 3 years of secondary school.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Public workers will be provided with a "health break" to allow time to go for a walk/run/bike ride, etc. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Private sector employers will be provided a tax benefit for providing similar "health breaks"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- An national Hide and Seek game will take place on October 2 annually</span><br />
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OK, so the last one is mostly a joke, but the point is that we need to foster a culture of positive health, body image and proper eating habits on a country-wide level. If we don't, just wait 30 years to see how bad things get. For point of reference, see Wall-E... <br />
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And now let the hate mail begin!NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-24557645373307424072011-05-10T19:53:00.000-07:002011-05-10T19:55:38.966-07:00Finding HomeHi there!<br />
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It's been a mad-whacked-out-crazy couple of months of apartment hunting, packing, moving, and watching nature kick the world's butt. And yet, when all is said and done, my world's settling into the warm months quite nicely. Of course, if you'd talked to me 12 hours ago before I found my keys that had been missing for a week buried amongst piles of stuff in my bedroom, I would have been singing a different tune. <br />
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But my optimistic side sees that as the final nail in the coffin of me <em>not </em>feeling like the place I've lived at for the past week with my lady love Kari is home. It is most emphatically my new home, in a way I've never felt before. Until now, home was the place where I grew up; a house long sold and re-occupied. Or maybe it was the house where I spent my teens and early 20s. But no, that's my Mom and Step-Dad's home, I just visit once in a while. <br />
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And strangely enough, my last apartment, where I lived for nearly 4 years, wasn't <em>home, </em>it was more of a place to hang my hat and pass out at the end of a night at the bar, with the exception of the deck out back. <br />
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But where I live now is starting to feel like home. Maybe it's because it's 5 minutes away from work, maybe it's because I've got the most awesome roommate ever... Or maybe it's that I finally have enough space not to feel like a cramped bachelor. <br />
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Anyway, what got me thinking about this most of all is the fact that, despite the lease being in mine and Kari's name, the apartment, or at least a small part of it, belongs to another creature. <br />
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Outside the bathroom window, in a hollowed out piece of a wooden eave, lives a family of some sort of chickadee or sparrow. It's oddly heartwarming listening to birdsong as you take a whizz! But that got me thinking about what it must be like for animals building a home to protect their family. They don't have the same foibles or silly aesthetic issues us humans do (except cats, of course). So, it got me thinking about writing a narrative on the duty of a bird towards its nest and it young. <br />
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<u>May 9 2011</u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's about time we got this nest going! The warmth can't last too long, the young must be birthed and cared for. Let's get some more grass stuffed into that corner... </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wow, can't deny that I KICK ASS at nest locations! This place is gorgeous, safe, and there's bugs EVERYWHERE! Wheeee! Let's sing for that one! Tweeweeweet!</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Oh jeez, one of those big naked dogcats is looking at me again. I'm gonna cock my head and give it the "Whatchu got, punk?" look. That usually works, right? Yup, there it goes, lumbering away with the grace of a plummeting rock. Ha! Don't test me, jerk. I'll peck your brains out if you try anything around me! This is my HOME. This is mine because I'm nesting here. I don't know, nor do I care, what lived here before, I'm here now and that's what matters.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The mate is nestled over the eggs, giving the chicks her warmth. I hope they come soon, the excitement is killing me! Gotta hop around a bit I'm so excited here! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The sun's warming my feathers, and I'm filled with a pride that only comes to the new parent who's taken an empty space and made it a home for their spawn. I tilt my head to get more sunshine and sing my joy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">TWWWEEEETTWEEETTWWEEWEEWEWEWEEEETTTT</span>!<br />
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<img height="398" id="il_fi" src="http://enjoybayberrybeach.com/animalimages/song_sparrow.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="321" />NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-9796931761985947282011-03-26T09:30:00.000-07:002011-04-06T13:18:21.338-07:00Great, expectations...Good day! <br />
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I keep wondering sometimes if I'm repeating myself or if I keep repackaging the same themes in this environment. I guess I find myself thinking a lot on the same topics. My last three posts strike me as tying in to each other thematically, and linking to this one. <br />
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Back in December, I covered the whole realm of dreams, followed by my New Year's resolution shpiel which, of course, I have failed to live up to. Sob sob. And then there was my last post, which dealt with the concept of judgement by others and judging others being necessary elements to living what I will smugly call a moral life.<br />
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All of these tie into today's theme: expectations.<br />
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Dreams are one thing, we never really <em>expect </em>them to come true. Obviously not the case with expectations. Y'know, because it's in the damn word! <br />
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Yet another frustration that has become part of the social fabric of normalcy (as I perceive it) is the backlash against the slacker movement that has led to what I will call an environment of massive pressure on one's self to live up to a series of expectations based both on self-delusion and perception of peers. And in the digital age of over-the-top self-promotion, I think that expectation focuses on a kind of homegrown fame. <br />
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Just about everyone I can think of wants to be known. Gone are the days of being happily lost in the crowd, standing out has become <em>de rigueur</em>. And I find myself feeling the pressure of that expectation. So much so that I created not one, but <em>two </em>blogs. And as much as I prevaricate to say that I created these as writing practice when bored at work (which is still true), in the end, the truth is that I started writing Nick Likes To Write Stuff and Dude, Cook! as a way of getting noticed by foodies and philosophers. <br />
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Too bad I don't seem to be striking the right chords (no one's calling me to write a cookbook). And even more frustrating is the knowledge that certain people who are shilling an image of themselves that isn't quite honest, because it's all they have going for them, are succeeding at it better than truthful lil' ol' me. Oh well...<br />
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But this takes me back to the concept of expectation. I'm not talking about parental pressures, because I'd hope anyone with a sense of self-determination would have learned to tell their parents' pressures to suck it, but rather I'm looking at the cultural environment of expectation in which many of us, I think, find ourselves wrapped up. <br />
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Perhaps it's because I'm surrounded by artists, musicians, dancers and event organizers that I get this sense of not measuring up. But I feel it no matter what. I feel like I'm not making my mark on the world. <br />
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Which leads to the inner monologue to pipe up with "Since when are you supposed to leave a mark?"<br />
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And really, since when are we? Isn't the only expectation we need to place on ourselves to be happy in our own skin and to do as little harm as possible to our fellow humans? But wait, freeze. That can't be it, that's too... lazy? <br />
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So, maybe there are expectations we need to place on ourselves. But they aren't the standard "get a good job, get noticed in your field, meet Mr./Ms. Right, change the world" expectations. Maybe, just maybe, we all could benefit from placing this one expectation on ourselves and on others: "be as good to each other as you can!" With that strategy, disappointment only comes to assholes. <br />
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<u>March 26 2011</u><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A red heart lain bare, raw and passionate is stronger than steel. In its fragility, it can be shattered, but in its capacity for love, it transcends pain. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In peace, all that which has come before, every failure, every misstep, every unfulfilled ambition can come together into a great tapestry of joy at the <em>living </em>involved in not achieving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If everything we did succeeded, would life not become as boring as asphalt?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Wear your screw-ups like armour, like a bangle, like a medal. The attempt shines brightly too. </span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-10461753103101720272011-02-15T15:14:00.000-08:002011-03-19T11:23:22.156-07:00JudgementHowdy! <br />
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It's ironic just how much of the Bible is taken in snippets when people are trying to make a specific point. In this case, the whole "judge not lest ye be judged" passage. Well, the full version of that passage is:<br />
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<u>Matthew 7</u><br />
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1 Judge not, that ye be not judged.<br />
2 For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. <br />
3 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?<br />
4 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?<br />
5 Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.<br />
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So, it's not really "judge not lest ye be judged", it's more like "Dude, you're in no position to judge others because you suck so DAMN MUCH!" <br />
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Well, I'm going to disagree with the Bible a little bit. We are going to inevitably judge others by their actions in accordance with our own values, especially based on the levels of intimacy we share with people. I've often been criticized or disapproved of for my perspective on friendship because I believe that friendship is NOT about unconditional support, but rather being there to help keep your friends on the path you believe best suits them. If you see someone you care about doing things that are hurtful to them or just generally dumb, it's up to you to call them on it.<br />
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As for the "mote vs. beam" message, well, Matthew, I'll ask you this: Isn't the one who's most experienced with a given fault or sin better suited to call someone else on that behaviour? Is it hypocritical or is it "I know because I've been there"?<br />
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But that isn't really what concerns me in this post. What does concern me is the growing social impulse to avoid judgement towards anyone in the name of privacy and independence. Problem with that is: How are you supposed to to keep yourself honest and behaving in an honorable way when you don't have someone else to act as a sounding board for your behaviour? <br />
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Seriously, individually we aren't really designed as human beings to take care of our own behaviour. How often do we fess up to our errors without any form of evasion or "butt covering"? Contrition never comes easily, if it comes at all. <br />
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Therefore, isn't it almost necessary to have <em>someone </em>a little more accessible than God judging our behaviour? And if you're an atheist, then this whole argument is moot and the need for a behavioural standard is rooted in social interactions. So, isn't there a necessary evaluation that must happen in any interaction? Isn't it, in fact, necessary to judge others' actions? <br />
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Now, the word 'judgement' itself has a double meaning. First, judgement is the act of judging. But judgement also has an inwardly analytical meaning. Having 'good judgement' means the individual knows the consequences of their actions and acts accordingly. <br />
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Now, my point in all this is that this obsession with not being "judged", not being held accountable, has led to the death of honour, grace and courtesy in our time. I think it's time we learned to be at peace with the idea that someone close to us is watching our actions and will chime in when appropriate to tell us "Um, dude, bad idea. Knock it off." Whether or not we listen is a whole different story. <br />
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<u>February 15, 2011</u><br />
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<u>The Hollow World</u><br />
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No one is better or worse. <br />
Impulse driven masturbation of the soul fills the World<br />
With a fog of apathy and self-importance. <br />
Each is become Caesar to themselves. <br />
"Any who dare to speak ill of the King is to be exiled and reviled!" <br />
We decree with peacock chests puffed. <br />
All working towards base satisfaction, <br />
Leaving the noble to fade, the genteel to be forgotten, <br />
The beautiful to be thrown on the pile. <br />
And when a bold voice dares to speak against it, <br />
It is vilified as an enemy of freedom and cast down,<br />
Leaving muses and saints to weep for what's been lost,<br />
And dullards to revel in their obligation-free paradise.NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-39054671645474727372011-01-03T17:43:00.000-08:002011-01-03T17:44:13.490-08:00Looking ahead to 2011Happy New Year folks! <br />
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Well, 2010 has been one heck of a year. For me it was year of new discoveries, new experiences and crossing at least one item of the ol' bucket list. But it was also a year betrayal and lies that fundamentally shook my faith in others, thankfully offset by a love that brought that faith back. It was also a year of learning a whole heckuva lot, including the fact that you just can't reach some people. But that isn't going to stop me from crying out to the ether, because some of y'all probably enjoy what I have to say.<br />
<br />
So, today's entry is dealing with what I call New Year's Goals. I don't like the term "resolutions" because to me it implies that if you don't stick with them, you've somehow betrayed yourself and failed the universe and should rot in Hell! Well, mayhaps I'm exaggerating, but I think you see my point. Goals are far more mutable than resolutions. <br />
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Now the twist here is that I actually think I've got some insight into how to make these work and I'd like to share my thoughts with you on the subject.<br />
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So here we go!<br />
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<u>Sunday, January 2</u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goal 1: Lose the belly</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One unfortunate side effect of falling in love with someone as indulgent in hedonism as myself is that you double the amount of food you eat! I've always had a bit of a tummy, but since Summer I've kinda let it go into overdrive. I've not been exercising nearly enough, and that's purely out of laziness.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, how does one go about addressing such a pesky problem, especially when everyone seems to share it and yet it endures. I'm sure at least half of you have made some sort of promise to lose weight this year. Well, I've found a few things help.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1) Keep moving! Even if you go to the gym 3 times a week and kick your own arse for 45 minutes on the elliptical trainer, it means nothing if the rest of your time is spent sitting on your butt (says the guy doing that very thing as he types this up). So, get up and go for a 20 minute walk at least once a day. I have the good fortune of living within walking distance to work so it's already part of my day, but try to find the time to do it for yourself. Next time you're going for a small grocery run, do it on foot. Nothing to do on your day off? Hit a museum or gallery; you get the benefit of being on your feet while checking out neat stuff!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If all else fails, get a Wii and play one of their fitness games, it can be a surprisingly good workout!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2) Smaller meals. I've been failing at this one miserably. Normally, it's recommended to eat 5 smallish meals daily. I've been eating, on average, a huge breakfast (I shake my fist at you Kari!), a lunchtime snack, and a huge dinner. This is the wrong way to go about feeding yourself. There's a simple principle to eating and maintaining a decent body shape and it's this: eat enough food per meal to be only just sated. Your body doesn't store unused nutrients, we aren't bears. Nope, whatever isn't being used to fuel the body is going to become fat. So, think of feeding yourself as a constant current of nutrition rather than spikes and dips. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3) Less meat. Meat is harder to digest, so more of it stays un- or under-digested. My friend Troy, who's a vegetarian, once wore a t-shirt I thought was disgustingly clever: "Beef, it's what's rotting in your colon." I LOVE meat. I would marry meat if it wasn't weird. But I've been overindulging in it of late. One meat course a day at most is my current plan.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4) Less beer. Ooooooh boy, this is going to be the hardest one. Apparently switching to gin works well, but gin is disgusting. Instead, I'm going to try drinking more wine. Problem is that wine and beer are about the same calorically. Hey wait, the Internet said wine has MUCH fewer calories! And the red stuff has those anti-oxidant whatchamadealies. SWEET! Where's my corkscrew?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, those are some strategies. Oh, that and a medicine ball workout every other day. That should help...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goal 2: Stop worrying about being understood</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know why I care so much about not being misinterpreted and being understood, nor why I obsess on trying to explain myself when that isn't happening. But it's a huge flaw that has gotten me in trouble on numerous occasions. I guess really it's about not caring what others think of me. I like me, that's the only one whose opinion really counts. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goal 3: Think the best of others and keep quiet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the positive form of "stop holding grudges and gossipping". Really it's directed at a few people who know very well why I think badly of them. But hey, holding onto that anger doesn't help at all. So, here's hoping I can exorcise it with positive thinking and go back to the not caring what others think.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goal 4: Take people as they are in REAL life</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Internet has this horrible power to skew who people are, so much so that some people start to let their online selves bleed out into their real lives and get so caught up in their online lives that real life seems less important. Just look at Twitter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I'm going to keep enjoying the knowledge and time-killing joys the Net has to offer, but I'm going to develop a greater sense of willful doubt when it comes to anything people say online.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goal 5: Drink more wine, less beer. Not just for weight reasons, but also because it's delicious. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
So, that's about all I have. <br />
<br />
I hope all your goals come to fruition and maybe even a dream or two!<br />
<br />
Cheers!NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-48281835069008752022010-12-17T10:41:00.000-08:002010-12-17T10:41:04.351-08:00Dream A Little (or Big) Dream!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aaaaaand we're back!<br />
<br />
It occurred to me, after the last post dealing with my weirdo dreams from age 17, that it would be fun to look into and share some of my real-life dreams. I may be an old man of 36, but I still have a lot of dreams I'd like to undertake, things that are more than hobbies, but rather ideal paths for me. That being said, I'm a pretty pragmatic fella, I seriously doubt that any or all of these will come true. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But success to me comes from the attempt, not the achievement. I look to the example of one of my brothers. A few years back, he decided he was sick and tired of the life of a salesman and decided to try his hand at opening a business of his own that dealt with one of his passions, golf (yeah, whatever floats one's boat, I guess...). Long story short, it didn't last much more than a few years and it was strenuous to say the least. I'm not even sure how he feels about it any more, maybe he thinks it was an utter waste of time. I haven't really sat down and talked to him about it. I should do that. But I respect the hell out of him for giving it a shot. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why? Because Lord knows I'm getting antsy to start exploring my own dreams, specifically professional ones, that are outside the confines of the federal public service. Don't get me wrong, the work's easy, the money's good, and there are always interesting characters to meet. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But is this work that makes me happy? Not really. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What keeps me from feeling like a complete sell-out underachiever is this: the notion that you have to find a job that 'fulfills' you is a steaming load. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Work isn't a calling, it is neither ennobling nor embiggening, and anyone who says it is has been reading too many Knights of Labour pamphlets. Less than 200 years ago, work was a necessary evil, paid or not. The idea of success was to make enough money to pay someone else to do the heavy lifting while you sat back and watched your belly grow. Not much has changed other than the ridiculous economic reality that dictates you have to keep working until you're old; where the idea of having enough income to be able to stop working at, say, 40, is laughable unless you're one of those 5 percent of the population who control 90 percent of the wealth. I am not, nor do I imagine I will ever be. I'd have better luck winning the lottery (which I never play). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you can bet your arse that if I did win the lottery, I'd quit working 'toot suite' and ski until my knees collapsed. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then I'd buy cyborg knees.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Am I digressing? Anyway, the point is that I'm getting pretty antsy to explore the idea of making a living outside the confines of an office, doing something other than staring at a computer screen. It is a dream of mine to open some sort of food service. Not really a restaurant proper, because I've been a line cook and I don't care to repeat the experience of running around for hours on-end like a chicken with my head cut off. But maybe a tea room or 10-table bistro. I've been seriously contemplating opening a food truck (not going to say more because I don't want anyone poaching my idea!), as well as some occasional catering work. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But that dream is precluded on the real necessity of having the capital to afford to set things in motion. I do not have anywhere near the resources to do such a thing, and the only real way I imagine I can get the collateral to secure a loan is to buy a house. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that is another dream of mine: to be a homeowner before I hit 40. But, as the housing market in this town continues to have such ridiculously inflated prices, I'm going to have to keep dreaming it feels like. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stupid reality getting in the way of dreams n' stuff... *grumblegrumblegrumble*</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But yeah, I think we'd all like to live our dreams to the fullest and maybe, just maybe, some of us are clever (or delusional) enough to mold their own selves to the dreams that become attainable as time goes on. So suddenly, what may at one point have been a hobby or a side project can become a 'dream come true'. If humans are as adaptable as all the textbooks say we are, then it stands to reason that when we become convinced of the unattainability of our dreams, we necessarily change them. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That being said, I have dreams that I know are pretty much unattainable, but being a stubborn bastard, I won't abandon them. Mostly because it's a nice way to occupy one's mind, especially when drudging through a Sunday morning shift in media monitoring. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Among those dreams is to work for a year or so in Africa doing some sort of relief work. But that dream is nearly pointless when juxtaposed with the more realistic dream of becoming a father. Not like I can shlep the kids out to Tanzania, at least not any time before they're of school age. Another is to visit half the countries in the world. This is more realistic, but unlikely because of prohibitive costs. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, all you super-positivists can cram it if you start railing that I'm being too negative. I've always been this outwardly curmudgeonly and it hasn't stood in the way of me attaining some of my dreams. Luckily, some is good enough for me. I may not dream huge, but I rarely have my illusions shattered to the point of depression. I could die today, satisfied with the sum of my accomplishments.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, in an effort to make this post both entertaining and cathartic, I'm going to write a passage on my favourite, yet absolutely unattainable, kind of dream: flying. I'm not talking learning to pilot a plane or hang-gliding, I'm talking Superman-styles; throwing off the shackles of gravity and hurtling through the sky with only my will to propel me. I have this dream fairly regularly, possibly as a counterpoint to my acrophobia. Ironic eh? The guy who gets nervous looking over a 3-story balcony dreams of flying. But, I suppose overcoming our worst fears is the most important dream of all... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><u>December 17, 2010</u><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's late. It's always night time when the impression of possibility overwhelms me. I look out my bedroom window, which is always in my childhood home, yet looks out on any number of possible vistas that I've seen over a lifetime. One moment it's Heron Road, the next it's the Market, and then a placid lake somewhere in Cottage Country I once visited when I was ten. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Next, before I can even fathom why, I'm out on the sidewalk, looking up at the rooftops and thinking I should get up to them somehow. So, I will myself to rise up off the ground. My waking mind, which is always a tiny bit aware, even when in the throes of a dream, screams that this isn't possible, but the power of will is far greater in this environment than in the conscious world. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's hard to describe a feeling that can't happen in the "real" world, but the memory of it is strong. It's like a vibration starts throughout your whole body. It's not quite a numbness, but it's in the same ballpark. It's sort of halfway between the warmth of a bath and a limb falling asleep, but it surrounds and penetrates every cell. Maybe this is what the womb feels like...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This feeling, fuelled by an intense, passionate, all-encompassing, necessary desire, causes my body to simply float upwards, slowly. The desire is beyond the mind's capacity to put into words, the action is one of pure instinct. But in an instant I realize what I'm doing and the mind kicks in. A mirror of consciousness comes into the scenario and it becomes real. And I now feel control. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With this realization, everything is possible. I shoot off into the air, bounding to the first rooftop. I'm not quite flying, more like leaping. Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, but more restrained. I alight onto a rooftop gracefully, as if gravity itself had become subject to my whims. Then, a smile worthy of the Devil on my lips, I launch myself into the air, completely abandoning notions of up and down having any effect on me. I am free to careen in the sky, to smother myself in the embrace of clouds, to hurtle upwards towards Heaven. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Soon the dream becomes one of impression rather than visualization. I can't see where I'm flying to, it's all a jumble of images, disjointed and confusing. But the sensation of peace in flight steadies me and I revel in it until I awake. And, as I open my eyes, I try to hang on to that moment between sleep and coffee. Somewhere in there, the feeling of flying is still there, hiding beneath the surface of my molecules. It's in that moment, lasting mere seconds, that I realize that, if I could ever find a way to keep that instinct, that magical capacity to shake off gravity, I will fly.</span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-79206862130984631482010-11-20T10:56:00.000-08:002010-11-20T10:56:10.637-08:00Empassioned Frustration and Frustrated by Passion"The best lack all conviction, while the worst <br />
Are full of passionate intensity." <br />
- Yeats, <em>The Second Coming</em><br />
<br />
I've always loved Yeats' Second Coming as it tends to nicely sum up just how screwed up the world is in which we live. <br />
<br />
But the line above strikes me on a more philosophical level in that it nicely describes the paradox of mental and psychological well being. It's becoming painfully obvious that the most "well adjusted" among us are usually the least passionate, perhaps even being coldly detached. <br />
<br />
Lord knows I find myself trying to detach myself emotionally from the world, because I've had issues with lack of emotional control in the past and it's led to some pretty thorny situations. So, I understand that to lack passion/conviction/ideological dedication serves as an almost necessary armour in this "screw the other guy" world we live in. But I just as strongly recognize that this is an unsustainable way to live and think. Lack of empathy with our fellow human beings has gone on quite long enough. <br />
<br />
How many more wars, genocides and enslavement must we witness before we start giving a damn? <br />
<br />
Now, caring about the fate of others is all well and good, but on the flip side, being a complete bleeding heart with no emotional restraint only serves to paint a bulls eye on you and you'll suffer until you're completely drained of your compassion. <br />
<br />
And to make matters worse, it's common enough that these empassioned humans are the ones in psychotherapy, sucking back Paxil until the drugs suppress that passion. To be an emotionally driven person is a weakness, perhaps even a sickness, according to our social norms of 'wellness'. <br />
<br />
So, it's a "damned if you care, damned if you don't" Catch-22. Wellness is simply an illusion and all we can try to do is find our own answers and, I guess, be selective where we choose to open our hearts. But even that is a Herculean task for those individuals who haven't learned to rein in their emotional reactions. I have many people close to me who straddle that nigh-unlivable line. They are passionate, kind, loving souls, which is what draws me to them in the first place, but then the ugly side shows in that they feel all the negatives very strongly, too much so? They cry a lot, they often feel persecuted or let down, and often have difficulty with disappointment. I used to be like that (worse, really), but I had to harden my heart against emotional reactions for my own health, but I think there have been consequences. I suffer from panic attacks on occasion and I can't deny the suspicion that it's because I've repressed a lot of emotions over the course of my life. Is the panic a backlash? <br />
<br />
So, what is the true path to wellness both within in how we react, and without, in how we show sympathy without entwining our well being in the well being of others? <br />
<br />
In the end though, I think I'd rather interact with the passionate train wrecks than the reliable robots. As long as they don't mind me giving the occasional reminder that bad things are rarely as bad as they feel. <br />
<br />
Now, my passage today is an attempt to put the emotional conflict I feel within into words. <br />
<br />
<br />
<u>November 20, 2010</u><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's okay, there's nothing to worry about. Don't look over your shoulder at the plotting shadows. They aren't real, only the fear they engender is. (But that fear <em>makes </em>them real!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No one's out to get you, are they? (I don't know, but better to be suspicious than victimized...)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't be a victim of paranoia and I hope you can't either, but I feel it as tangible. There's hot breath on my neck and the Sword of Damocles hangs over the world entire. I know it's all in my head, and yours too. And the frustration over the inability to dispel it is maddening. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Smash out! Hit something! Murder the dread! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If we let everyone in, if everyone is our brother and sister, that might do the trick. You think you can handle that? Me neither. Oh well, at least we're trying... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just remember this: better to risk being screwed over by everyone than never get close to anyone. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now stop crying before I start tearing up too. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>-Dedicated to anyone who fits the bill-</em></span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-76447096011608814432010-11-13T14:59:00.000-08:002010-11-13T15:00:06.495-08:00A Post to Boredom At Work!I don't why, but I get easily bored at work. Oh wait, I know why: I watch the news for a living and unless there's some kind of disaster or scandal, things are pretty slow. As we like to say in the office: An exciting day for us is bad news for Canadians. So, be glad it's slow. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Anyhoo, usually when I'm bored but not feeling super-creative, I get into lists. Now, with this in mind, I'm going to fire off a list of my favourites/least favourites in the world. Afterwards, I'm going to spin a tale based on a dream I once had about dealing with nightmares. Yes, I had a very memorable dream at around 17-18 about how to ward off nightmares. It's weird, but then again so am I. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><u>November 13</u></div><br />
<u>Listing favourites/least favourites</u><br />
<br />
<strong>Food:</strong> <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Favourite: Oh man, ummmmm... everything? I guess the one food I can never really have enough of is my dad's BBQd steak. He marinates it in, of all things, Kraft Catalina dressing. I've been known to nibble through over a pound of the stuff. </div><br />
Least favourite: There really isn't much I don't like eating. I do have an aversion to green peppers, but that's for gastro-intestinal reasons. <br />
<br />
I guess I'd have to say baked beans, but I've had some at really high end places like Play and Whalesbone and that has definitely shifted my opinion. <br />
<br />
<strong>Books</strong><br />
<br />
Favourite: As cliché as it sounds, <em>Lord of the Rings</em> by J.R.R. Tolkien has a special place in my heart and would have to be undeniably my favourite book. I don't think it's because it's so well written (it can get pretty draggy, especially the beginning), but rather because of its impact on my life. It was really the first book I read on my own as a kid that wasn't from school. My brother read it to me when I was about 5-6 also. <br />
<br />
As for my favourite book for being a great book, <em>Slaughterhouse-Five</em> by Kurt Vonnegut is definitely up there. Honourable mentions to <em>Headhunter </em>by Timothy Findley and <em>Imajica </em>by Clive Barker.<br />
<br />
Least favourite: Umm, my Grade 10 math book? There are few books out there that I dislike. I am not a fan of much poetry, so perhaps <em>The Collected Works of Alexander Pope</em> can rot in hell... <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Most difficult reads: <em>Ulysses </em>by Joyce, naturally, <em>The Brothers Karamazov </em>by Dostoevsky, naturally, and <em>Shake Hands with the Devil </em>by Roméo Dallaire (it's his account of the Rwandan genocide of 1994, so yeah, not easy to get through). </div><br />
<strong>TV </strong><br />
<br />
Favourite: The re-imagined <em>Battlestar Galactica</em>. Hands-down. Best TV show ever made, except the last 40 minutes or so of the finale, which was somewhat cheesy. I recently got my girlfriend hooked on it too! Mwahahahahaha!<br />
<br />
Least favourite: I had to sit through about 5 episodes of <em>America's Next Top Model </em>last season (there are drawbacks to dating a fashionista). Pretty much all "Reality TV" makes me wince. <br />
<br />
<strong>Movies</strong><br />
<br />
Favourite: Oooooh, now that's a tough one. Let's categorize, shall we?<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Overall: Going to have to go with <em>The Empire Strikes Back. </em>It was about as grim as it gets for a 6-year-old. That movie cemented Darth Vader as the best badass of all time. It almost makes one able to forget that there was ever a character named Anakin Skywalker. <br />
<br />
Favourite action: <em>Predator</em>. "If it bleeds, we can kill it.". 'nuff said. <br />
<br />
Favourite horror: Does <em>Shaun of the Dead </em>count as horror? Let's say it does. Because frankly, I don't like many horror movies. I absolutely ADORE this one. <br />
<br />
Favourite comedy: <em>The Big Lebowski. </em>I want to be The Dude. That's my long term goal. I could even stand to have Walter as my best friend! <br />
<br />
Favourite animated/kid's movie: <em>Monsters Inc. </em>Most Pixar made films are masterpieces, but there's something about the cleverness of this one that just keeps me coming back for more. "Mike Wazowski!" <br />
<br />
Favourite sci-fi: Probably <em>Blade Runner. </em><br />
<br />
Favourite 'drama': <em>Cool Hand Luke</em>. I like it more each time I watch it. <br />
<br />
Favourite fantasy: <em>LOTR</em>, natch. Mind you, if they nail <em>Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows</em>, it might be usurped. <br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Favourite Super-hero (I LOVE that this is now a viable genre of movie): <em>The Dark Knight</em>. I could go on and on about Heath Ledger's Joker, which is one of the best villainous performances of all time, bar none. Even Orson Welles' Hank Quinlan from <em>Touch of Evil </em>or Anthony Hopkins' Hannibal Lecter don't quite equal the brilliance of Ledger's Joker, mostly because you don't really know if it's madness or vision that motivates the character. He's so evil you're not sure he even recognizes it in himself. And certainly he doesn't care.</div><br />
But what really makes me love the film so much is the pacing, you don't really get any breathers, even though it's over 2.5 hours long. <br />
<br />
Least favourite: Can I say "most disappointing"? That, my friends, would be <em>Spider-Man 3</em>. I almost pulled back flips when I heard they were bringing Venom to the big screen. Then I heard they had cast Eric fracking Foreman (Topher Grace) as Eddie Brock. Eep! I maintained my resolve that it could still be good. They could throw in a touch of the Carnage character and literally make a leaner and meaner Venom. <br />
<br />
<strong>(SPOILER!)</strong> But no, after 2 hours of bloated plot and Emo-Spidey, Venom is relegated to about 20 minutes of screen time and is damn near laughable. One of Marvel's best villains and certainly Spidey's true nemesis and he gets smoked by a Pumpkin Bomb? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?! <br />
<br />
*sigh*<br />
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<strong>Music</strong><br />
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If you've read my September 2 post on "Little bits of musical discovery", a lot of this may seem like a repeat. But hey, why not?<br />
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Favourite band(s): I've pretty much had a "top 5 bands" for a while now, but it's gotten a little muddled over the years. But there's two bands that have always stayed at the top, and always will. Those bands are Motorhead and Fishbone. Motorhead because they are still at it, they are immortal, and they are HEAVY! Also, Lemmy is simply cool incarnate. He's ugly, he's scuzzy and he doesn't care. He also happens to be one of the most genuine people in the world. If you get a chance, watch the documentary <em>Ringers </em>(it's about LOTR fans) and be amazed by his spiel on the 60s (Yep, one of Metal's founding fathers was once a dirty hippie). <br />
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Fishbone, to me, are one of the hardest working and underrated bands of all time. After their '96 show (documented in a previous post), I was humbled. <br />
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So, it's not even the music, really, it's the attitude of both these bands that keep them as my faves. <br />
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Others in the "top 5" (in rotation): Tragically Hip, Underworld, Mastodon, Tool, The Who, Rush <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Favourite album: Again, it has something to do with the impact on my life at the time, I guess, but for some reason White Zombie's <em>Astro Creep 2000</em> keep resurfacing as my fave. </div><br />
Favourite song: Out of all those bands I love and tunes I've listened to over the years, how the heck can I narrow down a favourite song? Well, because it's simply brilliant, while still being a visceral experience. The song in question is <em>Baba O'Reilly </em>by The Who, the first track off of <em>Who's Next</em>. Maybe it's the guitar solos, maybe it's the violin, maybe it's Daltrey's vocals. I don't know, but every time I hear it, I get goosebumps. And the song title is <em>BABA O'REILLY</em>, NOT <em>Teenage Wasteland</em>! Get it right, people! <br />
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Least favourite band: Hedley. Why? I'll tell you. It was Ottawa Bluesfest 2007, I had just had my mind and ears blown by Buddy Guy playing a blistering set with the backdrop of the Ottawa River behind the stage. It was just an AWESOME experience. Now, the layout of the festival meant having to go by the main stage where Hedley was playing to exit the premises. So, I had to suffer listening to those pop-rock bubblegum cheese-monkeys and their crap started pushing out the residual musical joy of Mr. Guy's performance. I was irate. I'd never heckled a band publicly before, but was I ever letting them know how much they sucked THAT night! Fracking jerks! <br />
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I think that's enough for now on favourites, now for a story from my subconscious. <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I'd always had trouble sleeping as a teenager, half because of insomnia, half because of nightmares (a lot of nasties beating me up, killing me, eating me, etc. Not fun). So, somehow my subconscious mind came up with the idea of assembling a team of the most kick butt characters to come into my dreams and watch my back and possibly kick some monster ass.</div></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This "dream team" (groan) was quite an eclectic mix: </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://tessarexroat.com/glint/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Jean-Luc-Picard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" px="true" src="http://tessarexroat.com/glint/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Jean-Luc-Picard.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">First, there was Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Because, really, in a scrape, I'd want Picard at my back more than any other Starfleet captain. Wouldn't you?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Also, this was 1992, so TNG was in its 6th and (maybe) best season. <br />
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<a href="http://www.thecinemasource.com/moviesdb/images/news/News-Wolverine-Plot-Details.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://www.thecinemasource.com/moviesdb/images/news/News-Wolverine-Plot-Details.jpg" width="235" /></a>Next was Wolverine. After all, Wolverine is pretty much the most arse-kicking superhero there is. Think about it, wouldn't you want someone with claws that cut through anything who can't really die taking care of the boogeyman for you? <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">As an aside, I wonder what would happen if Wolvie took on Superman. Could adamantium claws cut into Superman's skin? Would Supes' heat vision be able to kill Wolverine? Hey Marvel and DC, look into it! That would be one hell of a crossover!</div><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://www.gibson.com/Files/AllAccess/2007/Feature_Images2/lemmy_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" px="true" src="http://www.gibson.com/Files/AllAccess/2007/Feature_Images2/lemmy_01.jpg" width="255" /></a>Third member was Lemmy. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Yeah, sure, a Rock God can whoop dream-demons or whatnot. Well, if ANY 'mere mortal' could step up, it'd be Lemmy! Also, in my dream, he used his bass as a weapon and bludgeon monsters with it. </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://badpolygon.com/wp-content/peloquin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://badpolygon.com/wp-content/peloquin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The last addition to the "dream team" was a loverly fellow by the name of Peloquin. The film <em>Nightbreed </em>had been released a couple of years previous with a follow-up comic series and one thing was clear: the most kickass monster to come out of Clive Barker's warped vision was Peloquin. He was ornery and vicious, the explanation for his addition being "might as well use someone worse than the enemy". <br />
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The last member was me, of course, armed with a pair of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonfa">tonfa</a>. Not sure why... <br />
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Hope you enjoyed this story of weirdness... BUT there is a lesson to be learned, which is this: If you or a loved one are having persistent nightmares, maybe this form of directed dreaming can help! <br />
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Well, that took care of 3 hours on shift... <br />
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Back to trying to find news... </div>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-59970371181105676302010-10-28T18:50:00.000-07:002012-01-11T19:09:57.528-08:00I might not know art......But I know what I like. <br />
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It's the great dilemma of the self-affirmed intellectual: Is it wrong to like low-brow things? Is there something out there that a person can enjoy even if it has little to no artistic or intellectual merit? And then the possible answer comes: "Well, maybe there is art/high ideas to be found even in the low-brow and, in fact, it creators, when confronted, may turn out to be highly intelligent themselves!" <br />
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I consider myself something of an intellectual and academic: I have two university degrees, I can understand Joyce's <em>Ulysses </em>(barely), and I can successfully debate just about anything. <br />
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But I sure do love me some lowbrow! So today's entry is a discussion of some of my favourite 'non-intellectual' pursuits, and some insight that might reveal why they shouldn't necessarily be thrown in the rubbish bin of cultural examination. Let's say these are so-called 'guilty pleasures' that I feel no guilt about whatsoever. <br />
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<u>October 24 2010</u><br />
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<u>1 - Pro Wrestling</u><br />
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Let's start with the guiltiest of all my pleasures: pro wrestling. It was late 1987, I was 13, Hulk Hogan had done the impossible and slammed André the Giant at that year's Wrestlemania and pro wrestling was at the peak of its 'golden age'. Reagan was in the White House and Ah-nuld was going toe-to-toe with the Predator. Not surprisingly, ex-wrestler, current announcer and future Minnesota governor, Jesse 'the Body' Ventura was also featured in said film, spawning two of history's greatest macho one-liners: 1) "This stuff will make you a goddamn sexual tyrannosaurus, just like me." and 2) "I ain't got time to bleed.". This was the culture of the day. <br />
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Now, everyone and their dog knows about Hulk Hogan and his impact on the zeitgeist. But, personally, my interest in wrestling came in the afterglow of Hogan's peak. I avoided wrestling before then because I thought the main players at the time, Hogan and André the Giant, were kind of slow and boring to watch. But, one afternoon watching the old Maple Leaf Wrestling program on CHRO changed that. Why? Because I got to see Macho Man Randy Savage do his thing. His flying elbow off the top rope was the first of hundreds of "cooooooooooolllll..." moments that wrestling has since provided. <br />
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Also, the Ultimate Warrior has just hit the scene and for a comic-book, fantasy crazy pre-teen, he seemed like a real-life Conan the Barbarian, complete with metaphor-laden speeches about tapping into the cosmic energy vortex, or somesuch madness...<br />
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So, I started watching 'rasslin' with great relish and fervour every Saturday at noon (much to the chagrin of my sister and mother). Years would go by and Canada finally got coverage of Monday Night Raw in the mid-90s, just in time for the renaissance of its popularity that spanned from 1997 to 2001. Ironically, I had always been a 'out-of-the-closet' wrestling fan, as were my co-workers at the time. People looked at us a bit cock-eyed, but we stood our ground! We even secured tickets to the 1997 Survivor Series in Montreal, site of one of the most interesting and pivotal moments in wrestling history:<br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montreal_Screwjob">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montreal_Screwjob</a><br />
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After '97 and the rise in prominence of Stone Cold Steve Austin and The Rock, being a wrestling fan was no longer a taboo. Eventually this second golden age would fade by 2002, but I was still hooked. I remain so to this day. <br />
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Now, the thing about wrestlers and wrestling is that it's not populated by a bunch of blockheads. Just look at Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. Here's a smart, funny guy that is, yes, not quite a Shakesperean level thespian, but he's hard not to like. Same with Mick Foley (although Mick is about the polar opposite of the Rock in terms of looks and charm). Not all wrestlers are 'roided-up muscleheads (although a lot of them are). And, certainly, some of the writers can themselves be considered highly intelligent individuals. Paul Heyman is a good example of this. <br />
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What really makes wrestling fun for me isn't the promos (basically monologues), it isn't the storylines, it's the actual feats of athleticism performed by those involved. When a 200 pound-plus man takes a flying leap off of a 15 foot ladder, does some kind of somersault and lands on that poor shmuck in the ring, don't tell me you aren't thinking "Holy sh*t!".<br />
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If you ever get the chance to suspend your disbelief and watch a match or two purely for the entertainment value, I suggest any or all of the following matches:<br />
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- Shawn Michaels vs. Mankind - 1997<br />
- Steve Austin vs. Bret Hart (Submission Match - Wrestlemania 13)- 1997<br />
- Undertaker vs. Jeff Hardy (Ladder Match - Monday Night Raw) - 2002 (not sure exactly when)<br />
- Chris Jericho vs. Shawn Michaels - 2003 (Wrestlemania 19)<br />
- anything from the WCW Cruiserweight division circa 1997-1998 <br />
- Hulk Hogan vs. The Rock - 2002 (Wrestlemania 18, which I attended) - I only suggest this one for the crowd dynamic. A fascinating study of how fan loyalty works.<br />
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<u>2 - Comic Books </u><br />
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I'm lucky, I'm the youngest of seven children, six of whom are boys. So, I got exposed to a lot of 'boy' central stuff at a very young age. One of these was comic books. When I was 3-4 years old, my older brothers were knee-deep in some of best stuff Marvel's ever issued. Think Chris Claremont/John Byrne's X-Men and Frank Miller's Daredevil (which is often touted as the best comic book run ever produced). The late 70s/early 80s could be considered a peak period in the history of comic books. Somewhere in there their popularity waned as did my interest. By 1987, I started to regain interest after reading an issue of The Avengers at summer camp. Within a matter of months, I was collecting ten or so titles; within a year, dozens. By the time I was 15, I was a full-fledged comic geek. <br />
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What really did it for me, what made me realize that the comic book medium speaks truths that other art forms might try to understate or avoid, was a couple of mini-series in the early 90s about a death-obsessed alien pseudo-god named Thanos. <br />
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In the Thanos Quest, Thanos decides to prove his loyalty and love to the Marvel Universe's embodiment of Death by seeking objects that will make him all-powerful and fulfill his promise of wiping out half the population of the universe. He finds them and in doing so, becomes more powerful than the object of his affections. In the follow-up series, The Infinity Gauntlet, he acts and with a snap of his fingers, essentially 'unmakes' half the life in the universe. The good guys eventually save the day, but the idea has never left. <br />
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This concept made me realize the necessity of a massive die-out if the population of this planet is to remain sustainable. Just think how many of the world's problems would go away if, boom, at random, half the Earth's human and animal population simply vanished? <br />
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Anyone who tells you comics are kids' entertainment and not worth taking seriously obviously hasn't been reading. Now, I'm talking PURELY about the superhero comic genre. Obviously titles like '<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maus">Maus'</a> are given much more credence than Spider-Man or Green Lantern and are considered high art. And then there's Watchmen, which most critics use as a way of saying "See? We're cool, we think this is ART!". Yeah, that's Alan Moore, he's Odin reincarnated and doesn't count, he wrecks the curve too much. <br />
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Seriously, crack open Marvel's Civil War mini-series from 2006-2007, or the Inferno cross-over from the X-Men family of titles from back in 1988. Or anything featuring Venom or the Joker. I challenge anyone to dismiss the value of the superhero comic book completely. You have an argument as to why they aren't worthwhile? I have ten counter-arguments. <br />
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I had thousands of comic books at one point, but they've vanished due to my adventures overseas and friends losing track... Luckily, the public library collects a lot of trade paperbacks so I'm kept in the loop. Right now I'm eagerly awaiting last year's Blackest Night series from DC, centering on the Green Lantern characters. Apparently there's a lot of undead supers in it... <br />
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Maybe this gripe is outdated. After all, how many top grossing movies of the past 5-6 years are based on comic books? <br />
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<u>3 - Cartoons</u><br />
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I've come to an important discovery in the past few years: I really don't like much that's on TV. There's the occasional hockey game (Go Sens GO! Please? For God's sake! FRAKKING GO!), wrestling (see above), the Food Network, Daily Show and Colbert and that's about it (I was addicted to the reimagined Battlestar Galactica, but I now have all the DVDs, so I'm kinda set...) <br />
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Except for cartoons. And by cartoons, I mean one of two kinds: either the more adult-oriented 'animated series', such as the Simpsons, South Park, Family Guy, etc.; OR cartoons featuring super-heroes I grew up with. But even the latter is a once-in-a-while kind of deal. <br />
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So, really, I'm mainly talking about the former. Admit it, no matter how snobby you are, you've taken some guilty pleasure in an episode of Family Guy or South Park. The Simpsons is something different and in a category all to itself. Too bad it isn't very funny anymore.<br />
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Must-see episodes: <br />
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- Simpsons: The one where Homer gets to smoke pot legally. "They call them fingers, but I've never seen them fing. Oh. There they go..." <br />
- South Park: Imaginationland. See it NOW! <br />
- Family Guy: alright, nothing is a 'must-see' from Family Guy, but the 'Bag of Weed' musical number kicks ass!<br />
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Recently, a series came out of which I've only seen a couple of episodes, but they were awesome. If you get a chance, check out Ugly Americans. <br />
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<u>4 - Zombies</u><br />
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With the TV premiere of "The Walking Dead" coming up on AMC this Sunday at 10 ET and Ottawa's Zombie Walk having just taken place this past Saturday, I might just be in the grips of short-term zombie fever. Add to that the fact that I've fallen for a complete zombophile. <br />
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But, in a strange way, no other form of horror staple is as malleable yet simple, straightforward yet allegorical, as our shambling brain-hungry friend, the zombie. But it hasn't been given quite the same reverence as other undead icons. I used to be a HUGE vampire fan, and one could easily consider Dracula a classic novel that anyone should read. It was written in the late 19th Century, but the vampire myth/legend has existed for millenia in numerous cultures (I did a major project on this in high school, so I have some confidence in the topic). Zombies, however, have not been a huge facet of many cultures until the 20th Century (not including cultures that practice voodoo, obviously). That changed with Romero's "...of the Dead" movies and many others (including my favourite, Shaun of the Dead). <br />
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But are zombies taken seriously in fiction? Certainly there hasn't been a trend in printed fiction dealing with zombies that rivals the success found in Ann Rice's Vampire Chronicles, or the Twilight series, or the Sookie whatsherface series that inspired True Blood. Curiously though, the comic book genre has taken some fascinating steps with at least two zombie-based series. The first is Marvel Zombies (which I haven't entirely read) and the other is the comic book The Walking Dead upon which the new TV series is based. I've read the first five trade paperbacks and it's BRILLIANCE! <br />
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Now, I'm not going to get into the political commentary George Romero was making in Night of the Living Dead or the allegory for mindless subservience that zombies represent. I'm just going to say this to validate them: I'd much rather watch, read or write about people trying to survive hordes of undead corpses trying to eat their brains than see sparkly vampires. <br />
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When it comes to monsters, the zombie has come into its own and is the champion of the undead (except <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lich">liches</a>, but they are barely recognized in pop culture). <br />
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<u>5 - Heavy Metal</u><br />
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Is it ironic as I finish discussing zombies that I transition into another form of 'lowbrow' culture where a certain band known as White Zombie might be considered one of the best of their ilk? Interesting... Or maybe I'm just a geek. <br />
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I am a die-hard Metalhead, headbanger, horn-throwing hailer of Satan, whatever you wish to call it. And I'm not going to try and bore you with the standard "Oh it's valid music and many of its top performers are classically trained, blah-blah-blah." <br />
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The truth is, Metal is music that expresses anger. Punk is as well, but Punk tends to focus on senses of alienation and political issues. Metal touches on these as well, but evokes a nightmarish quality. Metal is about rage. Which is EXACTLY why it's a valid form of music. <br />
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Forget about psychotherapy, Prozac, meditation or any 'traditional' panaceas for mental ills, throw on some Slipknot, loosen your neck muscles, and bang your head until it hurts, you'll feel much better. At least it works for me... <br />
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There really isn't much I can say about why Metal shouldn't be marginalized that isn't covered in Sam Dunn and Scot MacFadyen's 2005 documentary <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0478209/">Metal: A Headbanger's Journey</a>. All I can tell you is this: No matter how averse you are to Heavy Metal, listen to Mastodon's <em>Crack the Skye</em>. Trust me. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.latenightwallflower.com/site/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/god_listens_to_slayer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" nx="true" src="http://www.latenightwallflower.com/site/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/god_listens_to_slayer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Here are a few other albums that help cement Metal's awesomeness for me personally: <br />
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- Slayer - God Hates Us All<br />
- White Zombie - Astro Creep 2000<br />
- Slipknot - Slipknot<br />
- Megadeth - Countdown to Extinction<br />
- Motorhead - Orgasmatron<br />
- Iron Maiden - Number of the Beast<br />
- Tool - Aenima, Lateralus<br />
- High on Fire - Snakes for the Divine<br />
- Anthrax - Attack of the Killer Bs<br />
- Nailbomb - Point Blank<br />
- Sepultura - Roots <br />
- System of a Down - ToxicityNickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-8388129674741439132010-10-11T11:23:00.000-07:002010-10-11T11:23:01.203-07:00An Examination of the Qualities that Make One as Good a Person as Possible while Remaining StrongTwo posts in one day? Well, it's kind of linked to what I posted earlier about being thankful. I may be thankful and I may be happy with my life, but I am no means content to sit where I am. <br />
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I think we aren't truly content and happy with ourselves until we're comfortable that we've <em>earned</em> our happiness. There's still a part of me that feels a bit confused and incredulous at the luck of almost clumsily stumbling into my current relationship, which has made me happier than I've been in a long time. I feel like someone in an Indiana Jones movie who trips up a secret door, only to have it lead to the lost Aztec City of Gold (or something like that). I hope the metaphor isn't too muddled. <br />
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Anyhoo, my point is that it's important to feel like you're working towards being a good person, or at least as good as you can be in order to feel like you truly deserve your happiness. Otherwise, you might not trust it to last. <br />
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A few months back I explored the things I thought I needed to 'embiggen' myself, to be the best Nick B. I can be! Upon further examination of these qualities, I realized that these could well apply to a lot of folks out there.<br />
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So, consider this a moral PSA. I hope I don't come across as too preachy. Remember: these are mostly for my own consideration and these are qualities I sometimes fear I lack. <br />
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<u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">October 11 2010</span></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Examination of the Qualities that Make One as Good a Person as Possible while Remaining Strong</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Patience</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Take a practical approach to Taoist non-action</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Choose to wait for ideal timing rather than rushing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn to want less instant gratification</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Temperance/Moderation</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Don’t ingest to excess</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn to value sensation </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Choose not to overdo it with the good things in life (although occasional lapses are a necessary element of living well) – this includes drink, food, drugs, sex, affection, adrenaline and possessions</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Compassion/Empathy</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn to truly put yourself in another person’s shoes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Be charitable and give time to the needy and unfortunate, but don’t give money to panhandlers </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Listen to others’ complaints if appropriate</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Dedicate yourself to understanding while respecting privacy</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn to tell what’s needed of you in different situations and determine where advice is useful, and when all that’s needed is a hug and a nod of approval </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Support</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn how know when you need to interject, suggest a course of action, or criticize others – usually it’s NOT a helpful act</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn to accept the validity of others’ judgments</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Try to truly be there at the drop of a hat when your loved ones need you</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn that your values have little impact on how others resolve their issues</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- When your input is needed or sought, always try and express in as loving and positive a way as possible</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Motivation</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Strike while the iron is hot: Don’t hesitate to explore an idea, opportunity or project as soon as you can; procrastination is the enemy of creativity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Always envision ways to improve</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Try your best even when it hurts</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Look at any dream as being possible to make real </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Kick your own ass and get moving! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Learning/ Brain power </u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Never be satisfied with your existing level of knowledge on ANY subject</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Try to know a little bit about everything</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Try to keep your mind busy with crosswords, puzzles, projects, blogs, etc. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Art</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Develop and maintain an interest in all forms of art, especially the effect and value it has for others. This includes art forms that don’t personally interest you (e.g. textile arts)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Take a chance and dabble with as many different art forms as possible: painting, music, sculpture, sewing, acting, poetry, drawing, cooking, gardening</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn more art theory</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Courtesy and Manners</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Learn to let go of narcissism and the notion of being a ‘big man’ (but keep your spine!) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Humility and a gentle nature may not appeal to the masses, but they are still more desirable</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Treat everyone with a base level of respect and try to make that base level as high as possible. Basic respect is freely given, but disrespect can be easily earned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Cultivate manners when valuable, don’t follow traditional manners only out of tradition.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Be as personable and charming as you can. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>Fitness</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Cultivate an active, fitness-friendly lifestyle but do not make it obtrusive to others. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Fitness is a personal choice in how to live, it isn’t a lifestyle to be advertised or imposed on others. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Lack of fitness is not cause for lack of respect. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-49558059682590593132010-10-11T06:08:00.000-07:002010-10-11T06:08:10.626-07:00ThanksgivingIt's Canadian Thanksgiving today and I feel like relating all the things I have to be thankful for in this crazy life I've had the pleasure of living. Since giving thanks, to me, is a very direct and personal exercise, I'm going to be a little more open than usual about specific people and events. <br />
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Is it self-indulging? Yeah. Does anyone care what I'm thankful for? Probably not. But we do live in the age of zero privacy, so what the heck... <br />
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<u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">October 11 2010</span></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you Creator being, for making this utterly wondrous experiment called existence, and occasionally looking over my shoulder and keeping me safe from my own idiocy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thanks Mom and Dad for bringing me here despite all good sense. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Kari/kira_generika/Bean, for being the centre of the sweetest relationship a dunderhead like me was lucky enough to stumble into. You've taught me that being in love need not be a chore and true love is about being happy doing nothing or everything together, as long as you're together. You're my new best friend and your smile is the most beautiful thing in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you JKL, for expanding my horizons in ways I never thought possible. I hope some day you learn as much as you teach. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Kelly for showing me a bunch of new tricks and letting me show you an old favourite known as skiing!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Vero/MsHelveticaB for every fun-filled minute we've spent together and for showing me that insecurity is a hurdle that can be overcome through will.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Julia for being my sounding board on all matters, especially each other! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Schliep for rescuing our Banff trip from the brink of disaster. Well, unpleasantess. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Siobhan and Einoch for being my best friends, even after 18 and 15 years, respectively.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you all friends for enduring my silliness. Hail Satan!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Dominion Tavern for keeping me young. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Ottawa Public Library for allowing me to reconnect with Green Lantern and Wolverine for free and burn a crapton of tunes onto my computer that I may otherwise not even have noticed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Blue Skies for showing me who I can be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Thank you Food Network for the edible pr0n and making me realize that my future may be in food. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">OK, that's about all I have for today. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy your feasts!</span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-4551325896114386302010-09-29T19:54:00.000-07:002010-09-30T12:53:40.005-07:00Chipping away at Mount ArtAlright, I will be the first person to admit that I'm a lazy man when it comes to being creative. I fear I burned out too early when I was a kid and had an entire comic book universe on the go, along with a few writing projects. <br />
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These days, I have about a dozen writing projects out there that I have yet to complete to my liking. Some of these are 15 years in the making, I kid you not. <br />
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So, I'd like to ask all my friends out there to take some time to think about projects they're working on and comment about how they are able to find inspiration. AND COMMENT, PLEASE!!!! I need some help over here! <br />
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Right, and now the project list (have some respect and please don't steal my ideas, although the minimal level of detail on each project that I'm providing will probably make that impossible): <br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>September 29 2010</u></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First and foremost are my multiple writing projects:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Bliss City - A pseudo-apocalyptic noir detective piece based on the idea that if it was announced that the world was going to end in a few months, how many people would get hooked on drugs they might have normally tried? And, what would the aftermath be if the world DIDN'T end? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Tribal Warfare - This is my take on the Zombie Apocalypse, but much more metaphysical and a lot more magic oriented</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Prayers without Wings - A Miyazaki-style fantasy (at least that's how it always appears in my head) about a city-state where the citizens are granted the ability to fly from enigmatic, monolithic statues that float in the sky. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Normal Family - A real-life tale that shows just how deeply our upbringing and families can screw us up. The story centers on a young woman's repressed memories of abuse. I hope to show in this just how frail people can be, because of forces within and without. Not a happy tale, but I think it might be publishable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- High Stakes Poker - The only story I'm satisfied is completed, but needs some major editing and possible re-working to make it more than a short story. Essentially tells the story of a gambler in the afterlife, if Limbo was a casino...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I also just got inspired last week to write a WWII story about Quebecer conscripts (which apparently my Grandfather led a troupe of), but my preliminary research is contradictory. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Plays</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've never written a play, but my girl Kari and I got the idea of writing a one- or two-act play involving monsters/aliens/undead engaging in philosophical discussion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First Act: </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Zombies vs. Aliens </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Second Act: </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To be determined (maybe a D&D theme? Like a dragon debating the morality of a knight slaying him? I dunno yet)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Drawing/Painting</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used to draw all the time as a kid/teenager and created lots of fantasy beasties, alien races and superheroes. OK, I'm a geek, I admit it. But I think I should try my hand at it again. I used to be pretty good!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I also want to learn to sketch real people. Starting with Kari? </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Draw a landscape? </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Paint one? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I do have one painting of sorts under my belt, which was part of an art project from Burning Man 2007. Here's one of the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/damaradeaella/1342826653/in/set-72157601910244139/">only pics </a>in existence of it. But I wouldn't mind trying my hand at it again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Music</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have so far written two songs: <em>The Sleepneed Alaska Song </em>and <em>Hail Satan</em>. Um, they need work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">So, what's percolating in your artistic treasure trove? SHARE!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Cheers! </span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-46137881654374434192010-09-02T14:32:00.001-07:002010-09-09T09:26:53.033-07:00Little Bits of Musical DiscoveryI'll be the first person to rail against the notion put forth that the more obscure bands you know about/listen to, the cooler you are. That's kinda stupid. There's a reason why some bands reach super-stardom and legendary status that has nothing to do with album sales or being sellouts.<br /><br />Think about it, will anyone on this planet dis the Beatles as being sellouts? Please... The Who? Zeppelin? The Stones? You can not like them, but you have to acknowledge that there's a reason they're pillars of modern music. So saying "John Lennon sucks" is just kinda silly. It's like saying DaVinci sucks. Yoko Ono on the other hand... I think we all have our dirty musical secrets, but I think we need to respect each others' tastes, unless they're complete crap (Nickelback fans, I am looking at YOU!) . Hell, I enjoy all of Coldplay's albums (he said as Mastodon's <em>Crack the Skye</em> is blessing his eardrums) and if you don't like that, too bad! P.S.: I'm not gay either.<br /><br />But all that to say that music, like all art, is about what touches you, not what's most cutting edge. My friend, we'll ID him through twitter as @boogiehowser, argues with me ALL the time about music and the main reason I go along is because he's passionate about his hate, and he's hilarious. So, I'm not saying you're wrong to argue about music. Spirited debate makes us all wiser people. But rather, we'd all benefit from keeping an open mind for both the well-known and the obscure. Who cares how cool it makes you?<br /><br />So with that in mind, I'm going to offer up a few lesser known (maybe?) musical gems that I've come across over the course of my life that make me happy and tell you a bit about them. And yes, there will be plugging of friends' endeavours.<br /><br /><br /><p><br /><u>September 8 2010</u><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Where to begin? Well, start strong I say... </span></p><span style="font-family:arial;">1 - Mastodon </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I first heard of Mastodon through my friend and ex-colleague JP (who'll come up later). I grew up with the old school gods of Metal (Metallica, Anthrax, Motorhead, etc.) thanks to my brother Dave. But as time wore on and none of my friends kept their interest, I lost touch with what was new and interesting in Metal. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Enter JP. Drummer, headbanger, and, at the time, music critic. I have no idea how we got started on what we liked in the Realm of Heavy, but when I asked him in late 2006 what I should try on for size, he gleefully recommended I pick up anything by Mastodon. I was skeptical, but how bad could it be? So, <em>Blood Mountain </em>had just been released and I figured "Why not?" </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">As the opening drum solo ripped my ears a new one, I was impressed; jumping-up-and-down-like-a-school-kid impressed! It was brilliance and a kind of Heavy that I'd rarely heard before. There's a reason these guys are considered the new faces of the genre. So, I made sure I picked up the previous album Leviathan to have that kick my arse as well. But it wasn't till 2009 when I was truly AWED by one of their albums. <em>Crack the Skye </em>is the <em>Dark Side of the Moon </em>of Heavy Metal. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">All of Mastodon's albums have been concept albums, but this one was truly evoking an old-school rock opera/grand epic vibe. Think Rush's <em>2112</em>, Floyd's <em>Animals </em>(as well as <em>Dark Side</em>...), The Who's <em>Tommy</em>. You get the point... </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">To make it more succinct how much I love this album, let me tell you of the first time God's existence was proven to me: I was shooting down a black diamond run at Sunshine Village in Banff, stoned off my ass, an avalanche partly chasing me, and listening to this album. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I've rarely been more ecstatic. The experience literally cured me of a bout of depression</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It was easily one the BEST moments of my life, and <em>Crack the Skye </em>is part of that. Even if you aren't huge into Metal, you owe your ears a listen to this album, if you can take it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">2 - <em>Orgasmatron </em>- Motorhead </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Continuing on the Metal train... </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Motorhead's been around for 35 years, they are immortal and unstoppable. Now, with that many years under their belts, they're something of a household name. Now, when anyone mentions Motorhead or sees me in their t-shirt, they always start singing Ace of Spades. And I admit it's one hell of a song and album. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But, there's a better Motorhead album out there that maybe isn't as well known by the masses. That is 1986's Orgasmatron. Get it, listen to the opening track, Deaf Forever, and regardless of how stupid you personally might think Heavy Metal is, you'll understand why so many of us like to flail around and actively seek musical whiplash. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">To bookend this monument to ruptured ear drums, there's the closing title track, Orgasmatron. This is my favourite song lyrically (I think Baba O'Reilly still wins overall, a title it's held since 1987). It's a song about the evils of the world, plain and simple, and is far more poignant in my opinion than any folk or protest song. Probably because it's so goddamn visceral! What do you think?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am the one, Orgasmatron, the outstretched grasping hand </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">My image is of agony, my servants rape the land </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Obsequious and arrogant, clandestine and vain </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Two thousand years of misery, of torture in my name </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Hypocrisy made paramount, paranoia the law </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">My name is called religion, sadistic, sacred whore. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I twist the truth, I rule the world, my crown is called deceit </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am the emperor of lies, you grovel at my feet </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I rob you and I slaughter you, your downfall is my gain </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">And still you play the sycophant and revel in your pain </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">And all my promises are lies, all my love is hate </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am the politician, and I decide your fate </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I march before a martyred world, an army for the fight </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I speak of great heroic days, of victory and might </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I hold a banner drenched in blood, I urge you to be brave </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I lead you to your destiny, I lead you to your grave </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Your bones will build my palaces, your eyes will stud my crown </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">For I am Mars, the god of war, and I will cut you down.<br /></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Now, this is being growled by Lemmy Kilmister (AKA Lord God Almighty!) over a (mostly) single chord riff. It ain't exactly Beethoven, but that's kind of the point.<br /><br />Also, I got to sing this a cappella at Blue Skies this year. It was a dream come true!<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">4 - <em>Conquistador </em>- 13 Engines<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">Now, switching gears, we go back to the mid-90s and 13 Engines' second 'big-time' album. Their first, <em>Perpetual Motion Machine</em>, produced the fairly memorable post-Grunge hit <em>Smoke & Ashes. Conquistador </em>is a better album musically. You may remember the one hit: <em>Beneath My Hand</em>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Those of you old enough to remember the musical boom of the early 90s may look back nostalgically to that era of awesomeness. Or, you might be one of those people that see the current 'indie' rock trend as the pinnacle of music. Fair enough, that's your opinion. I have to disagree based on the fact that most 'indie' rock sounds a lot like one track or another off <em>Conquistador</em>! Best track on the album: <em>Tailpipe Blues</em>, a kind of rock-twang hybrid that is a nearly perfect song.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">5 - Tokyo Sex Whale, </span><span style="font-family:arial;">Muffler Crunch, </span><span style="font-family:arial;">The Banditas, 90 Lbs. of Ugly </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Alright, maybe grouping all the bands that my friends are in into one category is a bit of a half-assed shoutout, but I don't want to go into too much detail, more like pique your curiosity. All are worth a listen.</span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Tokyo Sex Whale is a trio made up of the aforementioned JP Sadek on drums and yelling, Ottawa music scene stalwart Paul 'Yogi' Granger on guitar and vocals, and Montreal import Julia Loan on bass and vocals. They're described as Stoner Rock, as good a label as any, I guess... But labels suck, so I'll say they're joyously loud. They were voted best punk/metal/hard rock band of 2009 by the readers of the Ottawa Xpress, but I have no idea if that actually means anything important... </span></p><span style="font-family:Arial;">Muffler Crunch is t</span><span style="font-family:Arial;">he duo of Luc Lavigne (he plays Ol' Sparky, which is a tricked-out, duct-taped old acoustic guitar that has been Frankensteined into a Distortion Monolith) and Angie 'Barbarian' Neatby (she plays drums like they owed her money and sings like a pissed off Valkyrie). THEY were voted best punk/metal/hard rock band of 2008 in the Ottawa Xpress poll. I guess I know good Metal bands in Ottawa, I guess... Maybe it helps that they and TSW are on the same label... The label that keeps coming up when describing their sound is "sludge", which I guess means a slower, heavier, more deliberate kind of Metal. </span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">90 Lbs. of Ugly is comprised of Patsy Clash (Liz) on vocals, Lefty McRighty (Greg) on guitar and vocals, Stand-up Steve on bass and Ernie Legend on drums. They play a fun kind of rockabilly/country fusion that's always a riot live. The song <em>Batshit Crazy For You Baby </em>always outs a smile on my face. Also, their first album, <em>Richmond Hotel Room #3 </em>won best Country album of 2009 in the Ottawa Xpress poll.</span></p><span style="font-family:Arial;">The Banditas, consisting of Liz McDermott on guitars and vocals, Scott Terry on guitar and vocals and Colin (I forgot his last name) on drums. They haven't won anything in any polls recently, maybe because they play one show a year (on average) and released their album 5 years ago? But I think they're my favourite on this list. Probably because Liz is married to one of my oldest, dearest friends and is one of the coolest people I know. They play really loud punk-tinged rock. Liz yells a lot. It's fun! </span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;">8 - Fishbone </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Now, I'm pretty sure all of you out there have heard of Fishbone, while perhaps not necessarily having heard their music. Fishbone started as a Ska band in the early 80s (remember <em>Party at Ground Zero</em>?), but in 1988 they released <em>Truth and Soul</em>, where they combined layers of funk, punk, ska, Metal, soul and even folk to create one of the best all-time albums. It's simply magnificent. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">It was around '89-'90 when my brother Mike introduced me to Fishbone and I was pretty hooked from the get-go. But it was in 1996 that I went from admiring fan to hardcore Fishbone Soldier. Two things happened that year: they put out their first album on an 'indie' label: <em>Chim-Chim's Badass Revenge</em>, and I saw them in concert. It was early September 1996 and they played 2.5 hours at Barrymore's in Ottawa. 2 and a half hours non-stop asskickery! BEST. CONCERT. EVER!!!!!!!! </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Highlight: Over the bar on the ground level, a series of paper signs had been put up reading "Please no stage diving or crowd surfing". So, during a long jam segment from <em>Fight for Nuttmeg</em>, Angelo Moore, the impish lead singer/sax player, proceeded to crowd surf his way to the bar, climb up on it, and remove those signs before surfing his way back to finish the song. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">The crowd lost their shit. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Suddenly everyone was hitting the air to crowd surf. Security lost control trying to get people down. The best part was watching Eugene Haslam, owner at the time and a tiny man, trying to help security out. You go, Eugene! I still smile thinking of that show. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">9 - Fiftymen </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Another local bastion of awesome from Ottawa, the Fiftymen are a bunch of ex-punk rockers who reinvented themselves in an Alt-Country vein and are simply a terrific band consisting of J.J. Hardill (vocals), Mark Michaud (guitar), Todd Gibbon (guitar), Jake Bryce (drums), Keith Snider (banjo and fiddle), and Michael Houston Hanlan (bass). </span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">They've got two albums, <em>After Darkfall </em>and <em>Balances & Sums</em>. I can't really say which I like better... See them, now!</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></p></span><p><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Well, that's about it. There are a few more recommendations out there, but I'll save them for another day. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Cheers!</span></p>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-80457956609997916292010-08-18T15:05:00.000-07:002010-08-18T16:46:58.158-07:00Be grateful!Hi again amigos! It's been a while!<br /><br />I've come to believe lately that we, as a society and as individuals, complain WAY too much. I am fortunate enough to have many fascinating, talented, beautiful friends and lovers out there, but FAR too many of them spend more time complaining or fretting, rather than celebrating how awesome they are and how much life kicks ass! You know who you are, my precious drama llamas! I tweeted and facebooked about this over the past couple of days. We all need to stop griping and start being grateful for the blessings we have.<br /><br />Here’s what you need to remember, every person out there in Interwebsville:<br /><br />- You are loved<br />- You aren’t hated by anyone worth knowing. And if they do hate you, they don’t really know you.<br />- You are far more than the sum of your ailments and stressors.<br />- Your past need not affect your present or future (thanks, JKL).<br />- Live in the now as much as possible (thanks, KLV).<br />- NO ONE is out to get you, so there’s no need for you to worry about the actions of others. Pain is rarely caused on purpose or out of malice.<br />- The more you fret about how others treat you, the more you’ll attract people to you who prey on insecurity.<br /><br />Now, enough of me giving the ‘what’s-what’, I want to write about happy stuff!<br /><br />Today I’m continuing on the descriptive list writing vibe. For your edification, here’s a list of little, simple things that bring joy. Why am I writing such a list? Well, mostly as a reminder to all of us to take the time and appreciate the little things, because they’re what make life tolerable.<br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><u>August 18 2010<br /><br />Things that make me (Nick) happy<br /></u><br />- The shimmer of leaves on a sunny, windy day. It’s like fish scales or ripples in the water, but completely three-dimensional. It’s probably the most soothing image in the world and it’s a testament to the beauty of chaos as every shimmer is different than the last.<br /><br />- The look of wonder on the face of a pre-verbal infant when they’re checking out things around them. You could have a super-colorful toy or display, next to a wet paper bag and both would evoke the same wonder form the little one. I imagine the kid thinking “Wow, this is the coolest thing EVER! Oh, wait, THAT is… No, THAT thing is! Ah, my brain’s gonna melt! Oh now I’ve peed myself...”<br /><br />- The sensation of an icy-cold drink hitting the back of your throat when you’re absolutely wreathed in sweat on a hot muggy day. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />- The utter physical surrender of a two-hour power bike ride and the sense of triumph welling inside you as you complete the journey. Your chest heaves, sweat pours off you, and your grin is ear to ear.<br /><br />- A nice rack… of ribs, of course! (and boobs)<br /><br />- Being knee deep in powder and way off-piste. It carries an element of danger, obviously, but that’s also part of the joy.<br /><br />- Getting goose bumps at that perfect moment in a song.<br /><br />- Seeing an old friend after a long absence and suddenly both of you flashback to some shared moment of sheer hilarity.<br /><br />- Campfire<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I asked my friends Kari and Jes for their input. Jes simply stated “curried split pea soup”. Fair enough!<br /><br />Here’s what Kari had to contribute:<br /></span><br />- staying up all night and watching the sun rise<br />- watching clouds gather into a storm<br />- when you're standing there and all of a sudden it hits you... "I am right now." (I have no idea what this means!)<br />- watching a blizzard from inside a cozy house with something yummy on the stove<br />- an amazing meal<br />- baby toes. baby <span style="font-size:85%;">toes</span> make me happy.<br />- hearing your cats purr in stereo<br />- being high up somewhere and looking out at the horizon<br />- watching the stars move across the sky<br />- a really long hot shower after a week-long camping trip (especially when you catch a whiff of campfire in your hair)<br />- your own freshly baked bread<br />- the first leaves in the spring<br /><br /></span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-74355322699207027242010-07-26T10:22:00.001-07:002012-01-11T19:10:24.966-08:00Happiness is dancing tastebuds!I love food. More to the point, I love food as a topic, an area of study. When it comes to actually eating, I'm pretty good with whatever's around and not terribly picky. I've been known to survive on cold cuts and granola bars. But the art of preparing food fascinates me. Whether it's some elaborate spectacle of food porn on TV or a group of First Nations people preparing bannock and pemmican over a camp fire (a highlight from the Calgary Stampede a couple of years back), I can't get enough.<br />
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As you might know, I also write a cooking blog (<a href="http://dudecook.blogspot.com/">dudecook.blogspot.com</a>) as a hobby mostly, but also with the slim hope I can impart my love of the art of food preparation to someone who might not otherwise have thought about it.<br />
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Now, I've come to learn something even more wondrous about the cooking experience: sharing it. I used to feel like I should everything myself and keep everyone out of my kitchen, DAMMIT!!! (a trait acquired from my mother). But, after dating some fellow foodophiles (which are different from foodies, because foodies only eat the BEST, foodophiles will take guilty awesome pleasure from a feast of Chef Boy-ar-dee or other "lowbrow" items) and sharing the experience of cooking with them, I’m starting to change my tune. Add to that my recent ‘promotion’ to the head of the Cook Shack at the Blue Skies music festival, I’m starting to see the value in communal cooking, the joy of sharing ideas and building up to some of the best meals ever.<br />
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This, of course, is outside the confines of professional line cooking, which I did for 5 years and, while I learned an invaluable set of skills from that experience, it was more hard, annoying work than anything else. Perhaps I’ve taken such a shine to cooking for fun because it’s at my pace and I get to do it my way, sort of am “after the fact” form of revenge on the oppressive kitchen environment.<br />
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Today’s post is a sort of thought and word association exercise of some of my favourite foods and flavours.<br />
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<u>August 7 2010</u><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Kalamata olives are a weird fusion of black and purple, gilded in a silken skin that hides a luxurious meat of salty, buttery wonder.<br />
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Boiled squid marinated in a tangy mix of oil, vinegar and herbs has a bite that is simultaneously rubbery and flaky. It was the best thing to ever come out of the salad station at the Old Fish Market.<br />
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Take the time to break down the flavours of a Thai red curry in your mouth (it might take some time) and revel in the symphony of lemon, lime, coconut milk, chilis, galangal, garlic and so much more…<br />
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Have you ever eaten an entire package of salami or capicollo without ever putting it on bread? You know you have!<br />
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Childhood can be summed up in a single sandwich: peanut butter and honey.<br />
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Nothing in all of existence can top my mom’s crab tartlettes: a crisp pastry shell, surrounding a gooey steaming cheesy mess of crabmeat and sauce.<br />
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There’s a naughty pleasure in eating a thic</span><span style="font-family: arial;">k, rare/medium-rare steak. It’s when you take a big bite and tuck it into your cheek, sucking out the juice before chewing and swallowing. Yeah, it sound a bit gross in writing, but try it once and you’ll know what I mean.<br />
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Do you have a food you have to avoid before it adds 30 pounds to your waistline? Mine’s Heavenly Hash ice cream…<br />
</span><span style="font-family: arial;"></span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-79335314079667412252010-07-22T06:57:00.001-07:002010-07-26T15:25:37.273-07:00The Age of Narcissism (and the related irony of blogging about it)It's true, we live in a time of holistic masturbation. The entire self is now a glowing bastion of self-indulgence and amorality and we stroke ourselves on a nearly constant basis for the world to see. Everything goes, it seems, there are no boundaries to taste or modesty. I feel hypocritical writing this, since I'm partially DOING THAT VERY THING! But, I get easily bored at work and feel like a diatribe. Call the hypocrisy police on me if you wish, IF YOU CAN FIND ME!!!! MWAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!!!!! (Side Note: If you recognize your own hypocrisy and identify it as such, is it really hypocrisy? Probably. Dammit...)<br /><br />A friend once told me that they have a 'public self' they portray on the 'Net for networking and business purposes and a private one that is only seen by those close to them. This makes total sense, but it also raises the fact that this public persona is completely in the author's control. No one gets to see you screw up or lose your temper, so everyone comes across as this utterly magnificent person who is super-awesome. No one gets to see the warts. Now, if you're a fairly conscientious and self-aware human being (and I'd say the friend who told me about it <em>is</em>, so if they're reading this: you know who you are, don't get mad; this is not a diss on you!), this isn't a problem as you'll be able to know the difference. But, alarmingly, I've observed a LOT of people who have taken their online persona and brought it into their real lives, flaunting an unearned smugness because they have more than 200 followers on Twitter, or because they write a bunch of blogs, or because they pwn noobs in WoW. It's brought an entire segment of the population out of its shell, but what good is being able to come out of the glow of your computer lit basement based on confidence imparted through the Internet, if you have no social graces?<br /><br />Lord knows I've had enough female friends tell me horror stories of men they meet off the 'Net who can talk the talk on a dating site, but when it comes time to meet face to face, they have the charm of an ornery moray eel...<br /><br />So what's to be done about it? Plug sites like Art of Manliness? Remind people to read their Miss Manners and Martha Stewart posts? Bollocks to that noise! I'm not going to resort to the Internet to help fix the problems it causes.<br /><br />My advice? Treat strangers in person the way you'd treat your grandparents or nephews/neices, but without the ageism. Think about it. With that point of view, you don't have to put on airs, but you'll show respect, or at least kindness. And remember: NO ONE is out to get you, stiop being so damn defensive! Stop trying to show how cool and hiply aloof you are. And don't get angry if you're not sure how to act, just wing it as best as possible. Better to try and fail than automatically fail by not trying.<br /><br />So, in that vein, I'm writing about the oddity that is the human exchange.<br /><br /><u>July 26 2010</u><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Logged off and unplugged. I slammed the laptop lid shut a little too hard, with a sick little twinge of delight at the thought of the whole machine splintering into fragements beneath my hands, finally freeing me of this crazy digitized shadow of a world. But, the twinge passes and I remember the hundreds of dollars poured into this cursed machine and the necessity of it. So, I soften my movements, and gently let the lid close. I stand up relieved, and look out my window to a brilliant summer's day. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">My bike's calling my name and there are dozens of kilometres of trails and paths awaiting me. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Two hours later and I'm wreathed in sweat and drunk on endorphins. But I'm also exhausted. I need a little rest before chugging that last 5 k home. There's a small park on the way where groups of children play soccer with parents sitting on the sidelines, encouraging their little ones to get the ball towards the net. Scoring a goal is about 3 years down the line. Not that these people seem to mind.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I figure this is as good a place to sit, drink some water, and catch my breath. I park myself on the grass, some 6 feet away from a mom in her 30s. She's radiating a genial energy and I feel myself drawn to speaking to her. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Which one's yours?" I ask. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">She turns to me with a puzzled expression. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Sorry?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Dammit, from that look, it's obvious, she's asking herself why a single man, obviously not a parent, is relaxing in front of a group of small children. You can almost hear her brain screaming PEDOPHILE! </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">But I've been fighting the Age of Paranoia my whole life and won't let the fear stop me from being friendly. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Oh, just making conversation. My nephew plays soccer, but he's eight, so he knows what he's doing a little better."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">She smiles and responds. Somehow mentioning Christian (my nephew) always eases tensions. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Well, I don't really care if Ben ever gets good at it, I'm just glad he can do this and get away from that damn Gameboy." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"They do have that effect on the little ones, eh? My neice is 12 and it's like she can't look up anymore, what with texting, browsing, etc., etc." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"You have to wonder if Bill Gates knew what he was unleashing 15 years ago..." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Oh man, who knows? I ask myself if half of us would even have jobs if he hadn't..." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"You work in computers?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Yeah, Help Desk for Health Canada. It sucks to have a job you hate but be very good at it."</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"I completely understand." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Well, I gotta finish my ride. I hope your boy scores a goal!" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">She smiles sheepishly. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">"Thanks! Have a good ride." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">We lock eyes for a brief moment and there's no attraction or romantic twinge that is summoned, but rather a shared sense of "what kind of a world are we part of where this sort of exchange is exceptional?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">And chances are we will never see each other again, except maybe on a dating site or facebook. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-90957856300393666962010-07-19T10:23:00.000-07:002010-07-21T09:17:21.703-07:00The Great DivideAsk anyone who's known me for a while, and they'll tell you that I sometimes get some pretty far out theories to explain how things work in the world. And I'll admit they're sometimes pretty cockamamie (or downright fantastical), but there's one theory this amateur philosopher/sociologist refuses to give up, because, frankly, it's pretty unoriginal. I just googled it and there are a number of pieces dealing with the topic. Especially in the socio-political context of the post-9/11 world.<br /><br />My theory is this: Almost all conflicts in this world can be boiled down to two sides: freedom vs. security.<br /><br />I'd further venture to say that schism, that "Great Divide", applies not just to the political or macro-socio-economic spheres, but also to most human relationships.<br /><br />Here's my prime example: gender roles and interactions. Men and women generally want different things (and I'm talking hetero for the time being since I will only speak about that which I know, I'm not sure how this debate translates into GLBT relationships). Women, in the context of their biological imperative, want a mate who is a secure provider, who can help her build a home where children will be secure. They want someone who will ensure their security. On the flip side, most men, in the context of their biological imperative, want the freedom to go out and spread our seed to as many fertile recipients as possible. That isn't sexist, it's nature.<br /><br />But it makes life confusing in the context of figuring out how to have positive, long term relationships. Yeah, I'm polyamorous/non-monogamous, but I'm pretty sure I can't stay that way if I want to raise a family, unless I become a Mormon. So, obviously, my desire to mate for life and raise a family flies in the face the 'freedom' impulse. I'm going to have to pick one. <br /><br />Unfortunately the story doesn't end there. All too often the freedom impulse comes back, reinforced by Grass is Greener Syndrome (see earlier post), which leads to cheating, divorce, thrown frying pans, pediatric psychotherapy and so on... It hurts my mind to think about how much of a Catch-22 being in a serious one-on-one pairing can be! Espeically when baby makes three... <br /><br />Another tangent of the Great Divide is professional/financial. Often, 'freedom lovers' will take the most profitable job first and foremost, even if it is a lousy job satisfaction-wise, because of the freedom a good salary can provide. So, in a way, financial security serves the cause of freedom of action. It's pretty hard to enjoy the sense of physical freedom that skiing or sky diving might provide if you're broke! Conversely, I know many people who make very little money at their jobs, but feel comfortable and secure in them and have the freedom to express themselves through their job/business/craft/art, etc...<br /><br />Now, I've noticed that, in the grand scheme of things, the pendulum has been swinging a bit too far onto the security side and have been selfishly waiting for it to swing back into a forced freedom that would come after some cataclysm. But, the Powers-That-Be keep screwing up the Earth-shattering kaboom!<br /><br />But, with that in mind, and with the love I have for post-apocalyptic thought, I give you today's entry.<br /><br /><u>July 19 2010</u><br /><br /><br /><u></u><br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;">When the governments fell in on themselves, the people began to panic. They abandoned most forms of law and order and began to loot the cities for whatever they needed to keep their families safe and fed. Within scant months, after millions had died, groups of kin and neighbours banded together and ensconced themselves into forts built of the rubble of the fallen civilization.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">The bonds of affection, blood and respect brought them together under an unspoken social contract and no rules or laws were set down. The shelter they built as a community held strong and no one feared for their safety.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">Then came the Marauders. They were men and women tempered by the pain of surviving outside the safety of forts. They had learned the hardest lessons of survival, they had broken every social convention, they had regressed to being nearly animalistic. And it had made them strong, had taught them a pack mentality. And they descended like a human swarm onto the forts, stopping at nothing to defile and consume.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">Who was free? Who was safe? What did it matter when vultures were picking your bones clean?</span></p><p><br /><br /></p>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-52820061747616627562010-07-16T16:04:00.000-07:002011-02-16T16:24:31.719-08:00ButtonsWe all have them, those particular spots that certain words, people, events or combinations therein. And wow, once they get pushed, WATCH OUT! Craziness ensues. I'm talking Mel Gibson tape rant craziness... Ok maybe not THAT bad, but still. I've said things with my buttons pushed that I scarcely believe.<br />
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I have a couple of people who push mine like you wouldn't believe and vice versa. It begs the question as to why I bother being anywhere near them. I guess it's because 'buttons' usually are one side of a multi-faceted emotional entity that comprises lots of wonderful things too. Like passion, like learning from each other, like crazy-ass arguments that deep down are kind of fun... But in the end, I think the buttons win. Hence the astronomical divorce rate, hence restraining orders, hence toasters in the face.<br />
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Now, all that being said, what can we do about it? Anger management is a hard thing to... manage... Sometimes, when we've been pushed, we feel like anything we say and do is justified in order to get back at the button-pusher.<br />
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I guess the only thing I can offer as advice is this: learn to forgive as quickly and calmly as possible and try not let the 'pusher' get the satisfaction from seeing you lose it. Lord knows it's too late for me with a lot of people, but maybe I'll never repeat some of my worst offences.<br />
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<u>July 16 2010</u><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">When I first felt the surge in my heart, the intense flush of unrestrainable anger come over me, I thought I was going to punch a wall (and maybe I did?). Then came the words. Hurtful, pointed, accurate (in my addled mind). And then the response: fierce, unrepentant. Some things can never be unsaid or undone. So, might as well take this madness as far as it can go. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Next I knew, both of us are in tears and shaking with rage. Every weakness thrown out there for the world to see over the Internet or pool table gossip. </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">And the horror of it breaks your spirit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">How do you forgive such hurt and malice? You just do. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">How do you come back from a point of no return? You take a well-measured step back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">How do you stop it from happening again? You just do. </span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-32250439335447131512010-07-10T04:45:00.000-07:002010-07-11T08:30:09.129-07:00En français!<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Bonjour tout le monde!<br /><br />Il faut que j'écrit un examen cette semaine afin de mesurer mes compétences en composition en français pour combler à un nouveau poste de réviseur-rédacteur avec le gouvernement fédéral. Étant donnée que je suis bilingue mais que j'ai plus d'aise en anglais, je suis un peu nerveux.<br /><br />Mais afin de pratiquer écrire en français, cette édition de mon blogue sera seulement en français. Désolé, mes osties de têtes-carrés!<br /><br />Et donc, il faut demander la question : Pourquoi tellement de canadiens ne parlent pas les deux langues officielles?<br />Alors la pièce que j'écrit aujourd'hui traite de la beauté des deux langues.<br /></span><br /><u>11 juillet 2010</u><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Ce n'est pas facile de juger une langue comme ayant plus de valeur qu'une autre. Au Canada nous avons le plaisir d'avoir deux langue officielles, mais plus souvent que non, les differences entres les langues, les cultures, les patrimoines des Canadiens et Canadiennes sont plus évidents que la beauté des deux langues peut apporter.<br /><br />L'anglais : si simple mais impossible à se fier sur ses règles, les exceptions étant toujours présents.<br /><br />Le français : structuré, musicale, passionné; mais toutefois étant si compliqué et frustrant que la majorité des étudiants ont lancé leur Bescherelle à un mur au moins une fois.<br /><br />Ce que le bilinguisme offre est la capacité de penser à deux 'vitesses'. Ce n'est pas la traduction d'une langue à l'autre qui identifie la personne bilingue, mais plutôt être capable de penser dans la langue convenable.<br /><br />C'est un défi, mais ça vaut la peine.</span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-91827193508120114772010-07-03T18:34:00.001-07:002010-07-03T19:13:35.952-07:00Values... and a poem?!!Values are tricky. We all have them, some of us are completely ruled by them and have them forged into our psyches forever, others are more adaptable with their values. They can change with us, change us or even ruin us.<br /><br />We get them from our families, our work, our environment, our friends, TV (yikes!) and, of course, religion.<br /><br />I definitely have pretty firm values on some subjects and far more loosey-goosey on others. Not lying is probably the firmest one I have. I suck ass at lying and finding out that I've been lied to is usually the best and most lasting way to invoke my ire, or, at least, make me lose respect. But that's me. Others are far better at coping with dishonesty, but not, for example, insensitivity. Or bad hair... All depends on your values!<br /><br />I'd say that for me, most of my values are taken from the Catholic upbringing I had, highly flavoured by the Blue Skies community-building experience, and continuously refined by the people and events around me.<br /><br />It's hard to articulate the vast array of values that we have as people, especially since they're variable. I'm far more aware of the need to be direct, honest, compassionate and sweet to my Mom or a girlfriend or a child than some guy at the bar. And really, is it necessary for us to always have to say "This is important to me"? Every one of us are going to come up against situations where our values are tested. And sometimes we don't uphold them for the sake of necessity. <br /><br />Likewise, how do we determine the line where not sharing certain values excludes people? I know mine: haters need not apply. And I don't mean 'haters' in the vein of hipsters and others who make a lifestyle of mockery, I mean REAL haters. Racists, sexists, weightists, homophobes, etc... (and I say this as an ex-hater - I used to have major homophobia issues). That also includes misandronists. I dislike other men enough as it is! So, yeah, that's a hard and fast value that probably will never change and my values and haters' values make it so that, if I knew these were a person's values, I would want nothing to do with them.<br /><br />On the flip side, I am a fervent pacifist. And yet, I have tremendous respect for soldiers. I am surrounded by ex-military folks at my job and I think they're pretty effing cool. Yeah, our politics will probably be at opposite end of the spectrum, but how can you not respect someone who risks their life for a living? So, my pacifist values are probably not as firm as my anti-hater values. Especially true when watching wrestling...<br /><br />Now, I was in a relationship with someone who liked to reinforce that we had very different values and I think that difference was the driving force behind it not working out. Which begs the question: Are similar values necessary for successful relationships? And, if so, how is it that we can fall in love with people who have such different values? If anyone can find the answer for that sucker, please tell me! There are a lot of avoided fights right there!<br /><br />All this to say that values are kind of a pain in the butt! Maybe that's why sociopaths have it so together... um, wait a sec...<br /><br /><br /><u>July 3 2010</u><br /><u></u><br />Told to be yourself,<br />Promised love and acceptance<br />What the mirror is telling you<br />Is never explained<br />So, you're either wearing a shield<br />Or a really intricate mask (and it is lovely, isn't it?)<br />But eventually the flecks of consciousness<br />Coalesce.<br /><br />This is who you are,<br />This list, this sum<br />Of how your universe should unfold, and<br />How others' should be unfolding alongside you.<br />'Of course you should value this, why wouldn't you?'<br />Then you learn the universal value we all share:<br />No one likes being told what to believe.<br /><br /><br /><u></u>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-2831749156908024922010-06-12T11:53:00.000-07:002010-06-30T09:32:02.081-07:00The Time Capsule of CoolAs you might all be aware, I have a strong aversion to trendiness and cliquishness. I have discovered a particular disdain for the latest trendoid group: so-called 'hipsters'. I think it stems mainly from the importance placed by these guys on being clever and cool rather than kind and compassionate, as well as the insistence of pointing out how lame the things they don't like are (and they're working from a MASSIVE list). I gotta admit: I hate haters.<br /><br /><br />Except Player Haters of course, because they're freaking awesome. Especially Buc Nasty.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLxVeFuneDuLaNc73cD1UV6o_EdWV34UZT5i7r42kbf7rVi5TZdZl9ZC6HYWyYOxAPmutUiAhaIz8PnsceNyB8NpOgMGvtr87437X9EtoRwsKXz_e92-UpxKgr9EWeHK5AvByTkCbsfY/s1600/CharlieMurphy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481963235520615570" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLxVeFuneDuLaNc73cD1UV6o_EdWV34UZT5i7r42kbf7rVi5TZdZl9ZC6HYWyYOxAPmutUiAhaIz8PnsceNyB8NpOgMGvtr87437X9EtoRwsKXz_e92-UpxKgr9EWeHK5AvByTkCbsfY/s200/CharlieMurphy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Point is: I'd rather be thought of as 'cool' because I'm Nick rather than because I'm a hipster, punk, hippie, headbanger, gino, preppie and so on... And I really don't understand why I'm in the minority with this perspective.<br /><br /><br />Aren't we supposed to be snowflakes rather than sheep? Why would any one of you beautiful, original, creative people EVER identify more with being part a group than being yourself? I leave you to ponder that question.<br /><br /><br />My examinations have led to me to ask something else, though, because I want to speak to universal truths on here as best as possible. So, with that in mind, I have decided to write about things which are unequivocally cool, timelessly so.<br /><u></u><br /><br /><u>June 12 2010</u><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">What is cool? If we took the 'coolest' things that are around right now (I dunno, like a pair of those ridiculous Osiris shoes all the kids seem to wear, or Pabst Blue Ribbon), put it in a time capsule and opened it in 50 years, what would we think of the 'coolness' within? So, let's see what's in my version of the Time Capsule of Cool, but in this case, it's a 'timeless' time capsule. These are things that I believe are cool to everyone, regardless of age or style, and would certainly like to see arguments to the contrary.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">1 - Johnny Cash</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEomyRc9EHBzqIEAbgz_y5H1lJBhi93ZtWuFtBSCYhRY7ROSC0ZXb76eNxWAteQHaMr0BL6xFjVLZdK8_f-mF3KXHYJEf6ZhXbtJsge5-0lkgpxzEF6iMasidsyy7BV1Fi1la355tkvUQ/s1600/johnny-cash-finger-456.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482255522390547410" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEomyRc9EHBzqIEAbgz_y5H1lJBhi93ZtWuFtBSCYhRY7ROSC0ZXb76eNxWAteQHaMr0BL6xFjVLZdK8_f-mF3KXHYJEf6ZhXbtJsge5-0lkgpxzEF6iMasidsyy7BV1Fi1la355tkvUQ/s200/johnny-cash-finger-456.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">Yeah, it's Johnny Cash. Whoever you are, whatever 'group' you identify with, the Man in Black is God. He's like Lemmy, but for everyone. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">2 - black suits<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GloMRUs1O_scfidMPBoTYbyxi2x-n5FOVgRlH_edfyMSql_ZpqaGo3lsMD4a1RwSzSSM3DyXId2AN982bO3xJCu8Yw8NZ_LStflCPTNrabMJwRETYi8YAOaB6o3mfgqQxSMybkcumj0/s1600/Reservoir-Dogs.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482256237095975474" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GloMRUs1O_scfidMPBoTYbyxi2x-n5FOVgRlH_edfyMSql_ZpqaGo3lsMD4a1RwSzSSM3DyXId2AN982bO3xJCu8Yw8NZ_LStflCPTNrabMJwRETYi8YAOaB6o3mfgqQxSMybkcumj0/s200/Reservoir-Dogs.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">No matter what decade you're in, what your background is, or your penchant for neon clothing, there's no denying a black suit makes you look cool and feel cool. Reservoir Dogs, Blues Brothers, the Mafia, the Rat Pack. 'nuff said. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">3 - questioning authority </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Rebels are cool, but in a very specific context. I'm sorry, but self-professed anarchists who try to get organized are somewhat laughable (or at least oxymoronic), as are the Black Bloc jerks who throw garbage cans through store windows as a form of protest.<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But not being obedient to the whims of the powers-that-be will always be cool. Even when you don't explain (or even know) why you're rebelling. Watch Cool Hand Luke some day, you'll see what I mean. Chuck D, Robin Hood, Jesus, Madonna - cool, and rebels all. </span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaBYBWWKq6Ag7VdeOZOJW0HMWETc4PHL1e0QX0DWM4dkZ4L7t9j2bUDdIaTxf3HntvyLb4y5Yn3nCr3Yul2N6k9CUkW99C9ooO6vv2SjrwXOJ03ZQ0h5xQhWcF6nTIn13c2ZCYW2YFZY/s1600/CHLLuke.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482257428166801778" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 147px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtaBYBWWKq6Ag7VdeOZOJW0HMWETc4PHL1e0QX0DWM4dkZ4L7t9j2bUDdIaTxf3HntvyLb4y5Yn3nCr3Yul2N6k9CUkW99C9ooO6vv2SjrwXOJ03ZQ0h5xQhWcF6nTIn13c2ZCYW2YFZY/s200/CHLLuke.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">4 - sunglasses</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Sunglasses are cool because they're so functional and fashionable at the same time. They add an air of nonchalance and they keep you from being blinded on bright summer days. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Picture this: Some rock star tumbles out of a limo shades akimbo with two unidentified peices of arm candy, his bloodshot eyes hidden from the world, his thoughts a delicious mystery. Yeah, don't tell me part of you doesn't want to be him. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Sunglasses are one of those rare fashion accessories that have songs sung about them. Heck, they even make careers; just ask Corey Hart. Honorable mentions to wayfarers and aviators as extra-cool. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOYH96NG0pySuPjflQWCI9v9iIo0cXZ9xywTKfTzOXXF0PPC5gDzZtKUMc9BMCDUUe9V_T4ZrpHycggKCUB2rluEI_eQ2aAziiPXXxsuGwkXj_dv1IZQktdZLvXsy8h34IalMfrk7Hmc/s1600/jc_coreyhart.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482258008344747522" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOYH96NG0pySuPjflQWCI9v9iIo0cXZ9xywTKfTzOXXF0PPC5gDzZtKUMc9BMCDUUe9V_T4ZrpHycggKCUB2rluEI_eQ2aAziiPXXxsuGwkXj_dv1IZQktdZLvXsy8h34IalMfrk7Hmc/s200/jc_coreyhart.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">5 - Keith Richards</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I was going to say the Stones as a band, but that's a hard argument to make, especially when looking at Ron Wood's hair. </span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJds02bH8SlzUqLOJSBKWGLZ2JclGI_213Knc3GarzTl0FwnZYGL6ZA6iQ4X30nGmSqdXIJZmiNfLTgpqi1VpaJusKdUB0ToGCENPvfJyjqGVoQaATdtNR0hER7MyfzsOH0p-ej_mt5DA/s1600/Ron_wood.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482253368231477618" style="WIDTH: 167px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJds02bH8SlzUqLOJSBKWGLZ2JclGI_213Knc3GarzTl0FwnZYGL6ZA6iQ4X30nGmSqdXIJZmiNfLTgpqi1VpaJusKdUB0ToGCENPvfJyjqGVoQaATdtNR0hER7MyfzsOH0p-ej_mt5DA/s200/Ron_wood.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">YIKES!</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But Keith Richards has that untouchable mystique of cool for one main reason: he can't be killed. Keith will be getting high with the cockroaches long after the bombs fall. And, as an added bonus, if there was no Keith Richards, there would be no Captain Jack Sparrow, who is pretty much the coolest pirate in movie history. Mind you I haven't seen those old Errol Flynn movies. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">6 - Leather jackets (pleather for you Vegans out there)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I mean really, who amongst us, when first trying on a leather jacket, didn't automatically feel cool (and yet warmer, I'd imagine)? The weight, the smell, the feel, all evoke the spirit of badassedness if only a little. </span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpy9qyJxEdMeOhvdGo2a6J4h_jAr3lyHOqxpTs6UM_5TXQbcrTX00TFv58b6pM-FHgTsRl5g_Vk0lTi_-vGRgxY85IFC8WZoiRMdsFlOw-FngiTh0gdR_-oZFk5F5L6JIIjhxo9gYP1o/s1600/Davida_girl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482262894294333826" style="WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpy9qyJxEdMeOhvdGo2a6J4h_jAr3lyHOqxpTs6UM_5TXQbcrTX00TFv58b6pM-FHgTsRl5g_Vk0lTi_-vGRgxY85IFC8WZoiRMdsFlOw-FngiTh0gdR_-oZFk5F5L6JIIjhxo9gYP1o/s200/Davida_girl.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">7 - Batman/Wonder Woman</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">This is something of a coolness-by-gender dealie. Superman might be the most famous and powerful super-hero, but anyone think he was <em>cool?</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">HELL NO! </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Meanwhile, all darkness and angst and really cool gadgets, Batman is James Bond, a prototypical "Goth", a mad scientist and (somewhat) the most realistic comic character in existence all wrapped up in one pointy-cowled package. No wonder the Superman film reboot went pfffffft, while Dark Knight kicked a whole lotta rear end. We will ignore any Robin references. All this to say is that young boys often preferred to play Batman more than Superman, although pretending to fly while wearing towel-capes was a lot of fun... </span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulsbtK6O7VLgAonj7Xeo0bbKE94GV9c8XOqGshEpQX1i-YMxjCv8Sl0ofdllbE2Noh4mZQp8WSsoRWc07igJR3lIisDUxOBskqMIJmhOknAFMhKc9vSMQzBezfcZ7XU2mtevfYe1dz5U/s1600/Batman-JimLee2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482271273671617778" style="WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgulsbtK6O7VLgAonj7Xeo0bbKE94GV9c8XOqGshEpQX1i-YMxjCv8Sl0ofdllbE2Noh4mZQp8WSsoRWc07igJR3lIisDUxOBskqMIJmhOknAFMhKc9vSMQzBezfcZ7XU2mtevfYe1dz5U/s200/Batman-JimLee2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RPInZgU8_Nz9ntos8uvzIx-AB48LzOunRXpLvzW3zRpPSLbD1AwyIctvvN8p1AcjLWa00I66wUaZvUSoTBMrm7K4GowrosuOOxOaS-Zfd71KgPFls9n62IbiQnZNT_GQWZfsn2rHixk/s1600/Lynda-Carter-Photograph-C12146665.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482271882882016418" style="WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RPInZgU8_Nz9ntos8uvzIx-AB48LzOunRXpLvzW3zRpPSLbD1AwyIctvvN8p1AcjLWa00I66wUaZvUSoTBMrm7K4GowrosuOOxOaS-Zfd71KgPFls9n62IbiQnZNT_GQWZfsn2rHixk/s200/Lynda-Carter-Photograph-C12146665.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">On the other end, you have Wonder Woman. Now, I'm sure there's possibly some flak going to come from some camps that she's so grossly overcharacterized in her... assets and that she wears, essentially, a red blue and gold corset to fight the bad guys. Alright, point conceded. But her coolness stems from this: She was the only DC super-hero who, if it came down to it, could give Supes a run for his money. Basically, even in the male-dominated 40s when she was created, she was the second most powerful hero in DC. And she's human (or demi-god, or whatever; point is that she at least comes from this planet!). And then, in addition to all that, Lynda Carter's portrayal in the late 70s/early 80s. I think that says it all. I vaguely remember discussions of Wonder Woman vs. the Hulk as the two shows were back to back on Friday nights. I had no doubts Lynda would OWN Lou Ferrigno's behind. And in recent years, I've discovered that, just as I was skulking through Gotham in my dreams as a lad, many of my female peers were dreaming of deflecting bullets with their magic bracelets and generally taking names. Who knew?</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">8 - Converse</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UDM7-nZwYSPevJ5P8rR3gqFJObbIrwJQbVMLqmi2LFdJrLZF4poIUK7zIJyPjXfuBC2x__ulIL-OhbQa9DvouOCIhQ5YkS2GnOAB2vxmEGU9zqr9ALYBJ8XC6ugHZQXTxlwQE55BOyY/s1600/converse-mens-all-starandreg-black-low.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482264368135528722" style="WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UDM7-nZwYSPevJ5P8rR3gqFJObbIrwJQbVMLqmi2LFdJrLZF4poIUK7zIJyPjXfuBC2x__ulIL-OhbQa9DvouOCIhQ5YkS2GnOAB2vxmEGU9zqr9ALYBJ8XC6ugHZQXTxlwQE55BOyY/s200/converse-mens-all-starandreg-black-low.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Ubiquitous and imitated everywhere (including my feet), Cons are the baseline casual shoe for pretty much everyone. I don't even know why that makes them cool, it just does. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">9 - Rosie the Riveter</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5a9AXe_2EYktKMJnoDOCCFsynDn9LTXZ676EWp3FntT5YFKYLF_LSt6kRrPgFtj4SFxe-c5tBliYxMYCipS1yQZned7qTtijLsMhX-a7NQxvvPbgryEvyPKfDhX7l_TopWCAKcXJrbD8/s1600/RosieTheRiveter.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482276928498425506" style="WIDTH: 154px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5a9AXe_2EYktKMJnoDOCCFsynDn9LTXZ676EWp3FntT5YFKYLF_LSt6kRrPgFtj4SFxe-c5tBliYxMYCipS1yQZned7qTtijLsMhX-a7NQxvvPbgryEvyPKfDhX7l_TopWCAKcXJrbD8/s200/RosieTheRiveter.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">World War II produced some pretty iconic and cool figures in culture and propaganda. But none seems to have had as much influence in the past 60 years as Rosie the Riveter. She represented the women who worked in the factories to help fuel the war effort while the men were overseas fighting. And while a generation lose touch with the impact of the War on the male psyche as the "Greatest Generation" passes into history, the image of Rosie keeps on as an original icon of feminism and 'girl power'. Not to mention the hairstyle is not too shabby looking! </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">10 - The Breakfast Club</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bu-vHI5nqrnFxQ3dcnCG45c-r7tc4tjCErKKKIH5ZgcX_OyhEaD2LiAgsDi6ngSGBrGDghwulnlsuy82HtmlgqEWcZ2h2LQSN38Wvuul1mA4EIDNVdYZjzzrPLK-QMHgFlpM9e6lwLI/s1600/the-breakfast-club-soundtrack.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482283726718712146" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bu-vHI5nqrnFxQ3dcnCG45c-r7tc4tjCErKKKIH5ZgcX_OyhEaD2LiAgsDi6ngSGBrGDghwulnlsuy82HtmlgqEWcZ2h2LQSN38Wvuul1mA4EIDNVdYZjzzrPLK-QMHgFlpM9e6lwLI/s200/the-breakfast-club-soundtrack.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I've only seen this film twice and I'm not the biggest John Hughes fan. But what makes this film unquestioningly cool to me is the fact that it shows all the different 'cliques' we were herded into in high school and turns them on their ear and shows something I firmly believe: we're all ourselves under the categorization and our commonality is far greater than our differences. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">High school cliques still exist today which makes me wonder if mandatory showings of this movie might not be a good orientation technique for new students. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">11 - Darth Vader</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dR1VLLL786IrFge3zjOvr8bI8JKlT3KYP_Un6B83l4DwYQ-MPvl06SlCMg2ISsgPPnLjN79hbiJCPbJGr48OxV7-8alb04nMoO-FUvjyQym4wyJVucToWxVz1ywOxTFkz6c9lTiWFKI/s1600/mt1131522328.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482284291641442386" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-dR1VLLL786IrFge3zjOvr8bI8JKlT3KYP_Un6B83l4DwYQ-MPvl06SlCMg2ISsgPPnLjN79hbiJCPbJGr48OxV7-8alb04nMoO-FUvjyQym4wyJVucToWxVz1ywOxTFkz6c9lTiWFKI/s200/mt1131522328.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Original trilogy version, David Prowse in the suit, James Earl Jones on vocals. Baddest mofo in the galaxy. Still wish he'd thrown Luke down the same hole as the Emperor...</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">12 - Calvin and Hobbes</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOB6eC5Gg8ubZyxEMn4xS07TsMlEyKoqKJqNgup3gdObB81391upL8RBITwtiFcj16b6qb_IkbNOEMqLRoywCFhnCXid70VzYlto2QHxnSWEUnxKfiRf6kUtUxENO3gfa-Qze_NCawdVI/s1600/31870.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482285611496254674" style="WIDTH: 164px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOB6eC5Gg8ubZyxEMn4xS07TsMlEyKoqKJqNgup3gdObB81391upL8RBITwtiFcj16b6qb_IkbNOEMqLRoywCFhnCXid70VzYlto2QHxnSWEUnxKfiRf6kUtUxENO3gfa-Qze_NCawdVI/s200/31870.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Maybe this is a "child of the 80s" thing. Well, I'd believe that if it wasn't for the fact that everyone, from 8 to 80, thinks Bill Watterson's magical comic strip about a 6-year old and his stuffed tiger that may or may not come to life is probably the greatest comic strip of all time. And I want a transmogrifier... </span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">13 - Ella Fitzgerald/Miles Davis</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbJTFMgLRfFUG0bqh8bpXArKrHC_hLBxqq5ql6cgjpX4KtLyvaDP9N_3Fl9IYdw69ovPMrBagqEbIiB-hzpWxru1pJysgWpOs2-8pcfx9G9xR_tV-ucLhW9H2XEYeu0DfI9l_eiE_rpE/s1600/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483063998161450674" style="WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbJTFMgLRfFUG0bqh8bpXArKrHC_hLBxqq5ql6cgjpX4KtLyvaDP9N_3Fl9IYdw69ovPMrBagqEbIiB-hzpWxru1pJysgWpOs2-8pcfx9G9xR_tV-ucLhW9H2XEYeu0DfI9l_eiE_rpE/s200/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHqeeRhx7dmBDXW4_7gsEFRQfmgqXf022jetYNggkx79L4aHi1ZrElSZUAqoj17ECvHj_InSAlORZ7IAe7EyvQwxZOymTBXzmx3p5kGwNJMXDAW3k3a-1rZZbiPmM-LOOuztqi34_5C8/s1600/miles-davis.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483064669046450594" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHqeeRhx7dmBDXW4_7gsEFRQfmgqXf022jetYNggkx79L4aHi1ZrElSZUAqoj17ECvHj_InSAlORZ7IAe7EyvQwxZOymTBXzmx3p5kGwNJMXDAW3k3a-1rZZbiPmM-LOOuztqi34_5C8/s200/miles-davis.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">I almost put Jazz in general as timelessly cool, but there are variations of it that one can barely listen to, so better to include two of the genre's most recognizable and cool icons. I mean how can you not include the First Lady of Song and the guy who basically made 'cool' part of the lingo, not to mentioning blowing a trumpet like no one else? If unfamilar with these two, listen to Lady Ella's version of 'Mack the Knife', and the song 'So What?' by Miles Davis (and not Ministry, they're different).</span></p><br /><p><br />That's about all I can think of right now. I'd love to see what suggestions you might have for additions or removals.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-11430157733698218062010-06-07T15:44:00.000-07:002010-06-07T18:15:27.701-07:00"Grass is Greener" SyndromeIt's the goddamn bubonic plague of the soul of my generation. Growing up, we were all mostly taught that we could have anything we wanted. Our parents did, for the most part, and we were expected, as with previous generations, to exceed our parents' success. Problem with that is this: How the eff are you supposed to exceed a Superior Court Justice or one of the country's most accomplished vascular surgeons? Who knows, but I grew up, like so many others with some minor sense of destiny for my life. For me, that came into focus at 16 when I decided I wanted to be a high school English teacher. And I dedicated myself to that pursuit for ten years, culminating with a Bachelor of Education at 26.<br /><br />And then I changed my mind. I realized that I might not have the patience, the diligence or the simple get-up-and-go to work in such a frustrating line of work. There were extenuating psychological factors, but mostly I wimped out. And I think that was the first manifestation of GIG Syndrome: Grass is Greener Syndrome. I started thinking that anything was better than where I was, I had no sense of satisfaction from the here and now. I had a lovely, if mismatched, fiancée; I had a fairly challenging (if routine and underappreciated) writing job for the feds. But I wasn't happy because it wasn't <em>new</em>.<br /><br /><br />I was also too afraid to change drastically. So, I stagnated and drank. The fiancée left, the job stayed for 10 years until last year when I finally moved into a Public Servant gig that <em>will </em>lead to better things (although the professional grass is still pretty green on this end).<br /><br /><br />But I've come to realize it isn't just me. GIGS is everywhere, because we're still thinking that there's a perfect life out there somehow. I know at least one Houdini of self-reinvention, because trusting happiness at face value just isn't in their psyche (just my opinion, of course). I know others who book it as soon as there's stress of any kind in their job, relationships, whatever.<br /><br /><br />And Lord knows, GIGS isn't always a bad thing, because sometimes that grass really <em>is </em>greener... At least until winter comes...<br /><br /><br /><br /><u>June 7 2010</u><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Bill was your average suburban shlub. He worked in tech support for a local company, helping morons figure out that there isn't a coffee cup holder in their PC. He didn't like it much, and dreamed of a better life out there. Beer rep always seemed like a perfect job. One of the guys he played poker with, Jeff, was a rep for Mill Street and was so cool, always cheerful, and appeared to have the greatest life for himself.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Maybe it was because Jeff didn't have a wife and kids, he was a free man. Free to date any hot girl he saw (and he always talked about them), free to stay up till dawn on a weeknight, free from changing diapers, heating bottles, picking pre-schools, driving to soccer practice. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">Bill often wished he could trade places with Jeff. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">It wasn't that he didn't love Angie, his wife, nor his son Mitchell. He loved them fiercely, with a true sense of honour at being there for them and living like a man should. It was just that he never really dreamed of this life. He thought he'd have worked his way up to corporate ladder young, that his talent for programming and administration would dazzle the powers-that-be. As it turns out, there were a lot of 'dazzlers' out there. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">There's not much more defeating a feeling than seeing what you thought was your special talent, YOUR niche taken and handled so much better my someone else. It killed his ambition and he settled in to a lesser job. He had to pay the bills after all. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">As time went by, he married Angie, they had Mitch and he convinced himself that this was a good life. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">But doubt would creep in every day, some days worse than others, but it was growing. There were more and more late nights spent at bars drunkenly flirting with women, stumbling home at 2 am to an increasingly resigned Angie. Resigned to what, he didn't know, and feared. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">There'd been fights, but she mostly kept quiet. She knew what was going on. She'd seen her father go down that road and he'd only been satisfied after finding a mistress. She didn't relish having to put up with that from Bill, but it was better than a divorce. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">And Bill knew she knew he was starting to think of other women, he knew that she'd do nothing to stop him. he was wracked with guilt over it, but the impulse that his happiness lay outside <em>this life </em>couldn't be shaken. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">So it came that one night, after a few beers, Bill decided to really make a go of picking up a girl to go to a hotel with. He'd told Angie (lied) that he was staying at a buddy's place. He couldn't look at her nor Mitch as he said it. Once in the bar, he drank quickly, getting his liquid courage on. After a few hours, <em>she</em> walked in. Kristy. He'd known her for a bit. Cute, saucy, and obviously libidinous. She'd flirted with him before, knowing he was married. She'd purred in his ear once that she didn't care that he was married. She was perfect.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">He sidled over to her, determined to finally get the free man sex he'd been missing for years. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">Jeff's hand grasped his shoulder hard. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">"Bill, what the fuck are you doing?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">"Seems pretty clear to me buddy, I'm trying to get me some tail!" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">"Alright, let's go..." Jeff gripped Bill's shoulder and led him out to the patio, where he lit a cigarette for himself and then Bill. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">"What is it Jeff? You don't like a 'normal' guy getting some action. You want all the girls for yourself, that it?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">"Not even close buddy. I just wanted to tell you not to do what you're thinking of doing. I know your family, I know Angie. Buddy, not a day goes by where I don't wish I could trade my life with yours..." He exhaled a huge billow of smoke. "I'm fucking miserable. I'm 35 and no prospect of a wife, family, or job that would allow me to be stable enough to get those things. You have everything a decent guy could ask for. You going to ruin because you're a little bored?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">"Give it a couple of years and being in my shoes wouldn't be so admirable." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">"Maybe, but who's ever content for that long?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-44668220569821007202010-06-05T12:33:00.000-07:002010-06-05T12:57:21.977-07:00Insomnia!!!!!<span style="font-family:arial;">Yeah, we all get it. Weird nights when despite being exhausted, we just can't sleep. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I have a particularly weird insomnia course. It never lasts more than a few days and it really doesn't <em>feel</em> that bad. It's just hard to do anything that requires a brain. Which begs the quetion why I'm writing a post right now... Anyhoo... </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Thing is about my insomnia is that I still dream, but my mind gets caught up in these loops of thought and conscious thought and unconscious thought get all jumbled. Toss my penchant for panic attacks on top of that, it makes for a rather unique set of sensations. So, I'm going to try my best to recreate a snippet of that brain loop. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><u><span style="font-family:arial;">June 5 2010</span></u><br /><u></u><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">As soon as your head hits the pillow, almost begging for sweet slumber's embrace, that the onslaught of paradoxical thoughts comes. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">You have to give form 45-E to the High Committee watcher, yet there's a cat mewling outside the bedroom window. Your eyes won't open. Your mother is telling you to get your socks on before you miss the bus, but don't forget to bring form 45-E to the foreman. But wait, Form 45-E is an envelope and somehow your mind won't let you see the top of it. And your hand semi-consciously flits to your nose to scratch it. Wow, I'm really tired. Could you shut the hell up brain? Not until you get out of the forest with From 45-E signed by the representatives of the Extradimensional Research Committee. And maybe if you can somehow open that envelppe. OK, let's MAKE me able to open that envelope. Oh wait, there's some sort of danger, that oppressive feeling has gripped my heart. My God, if I fall asleep, I'll die! WAKE UP!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">Eyes flick open, you rest your head back on the pillow and exhale in frustration. Yup, only 6 more hours of pretending I can sleep, and I can get up and live in a fog. Hooray...</span>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7838805046520383850.post-85947777781482577292010-05-25T16:46:00.000-07:002010-05-25T17:16:35.756-07:00The Abyss"When you look into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you." - Nietzsche<br /><br />There's a reason we read horror novels, listen to Nine Inch Nails, write bad poetry and sing "fairy Tale of New York" at 2 am whilst drunk off our arses. We sometimes cling to the dark parts of our souls, spirits, minds, hearts, etc. with the passion of a lover or parent. Which is what led me to think about that Nietzsche quote and what it means out of the context of the text in which it was presented. I'll confess never having read any of his treatises, I got the quote from a comic book. But it resonates. As we look into the dark flecks of existence, it looks back at us, approaches us, and offers a consolation, a bleak embrace.<br /><br />Maybe it's the cynic in me that is able to accept this vision of life so easily. But there's no denying that there's an odd paradoxical comfort in the dark things that a lot of us find. My gaze is firmly fixed on all Goths...<br /><br />So, because it's ambitious, I'm going to write about what the Abyss thinks of us!<br /><br /><u>May 25 2010</u><br /><u></u><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Every time you beckon me, I spit on your weakness, but come anyway, mostly for the laughs. Oh, poor thing, you need to feel something? Cut your arms, that'll do the trick! No, don't go for a run, or meditate on breathing or pray to a one of the Spirits of Light. Smoke another cigarette. Diss someone who once hurt you. Embrace me my child and I'll make you a testament to the healing power of pain. (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, the dumbass bought that last one! "healing power of pain", are you fucking kidding me?)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">Alright, let's be honest here, not all of you are completely laughable. I know that the vast majority of you live in the grey area between misanthropic wretch and sickening positivist, and you call upon me with a certain measure of confidence and restraint. You're not ready to blow your brains out, but you've lived some sort of trauma that needs some good old-fashioned self-destruction to help you get ready to cope. Well, buddy, drink up, punch a wall (and hopefully break something) and we'll get through it together... </span><br /><u></u><br /><u></u>NickBhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15851329010934564222noreply@blogger.com0