The earlier I try to sleep, the less I’m able to.
Why why why.

Everytime I write something here it takes me an hour or two to make a respectable post.
I can’t help but try the microblog.
I’m but a fickle, curious human being.
Just like all men.

I’ve always been lucky enough to get a window seat in most of my workplaces.  Sometimes it’s only a frosted piece of glass that shows shadows.  Sometimes there’s a sky blocked by an apartment building.  Sometimes it’s 20 feet away and doesn’t really count.  But there’s always something there that gets me to look.  It’s the TV channel that only ever shows the burning log.  I don’t look at it for more than few seconds at a time.  But it’s there and I like it.

There is a hedge separating my window now and the parking lot.  Short skinny trees grow in the hedge.  It’s a nice sparse wall of fresh green.  But it’ll probably be gone soon.  Squirrels live outside my window during the summer.  They’re always running around but never carrying anything.  They’re so much leaner than the squirrels I usually see.  They should see all the obese squirrels on UBC campus.  I’m sure they’d get jealous and want to migrate.  The chance of becoming roadkill is probably about the same.  That is, not very high.

There’s a ballet school next to our office.  There are always adults walking by with little ballerinas in tow.  There is this particular chubby man with a belly who always wears a baseball cap with a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.  He always takes this slightly chubby girl to class and then comes back to pick her up.  He looks just a bit too old to be her dad.  They always hold hands.  And they are always chatty and look happy.  It makes me teary-eyed because that little girls is going to grow up to be a teenager one day and start acting bitter and bitchy and be breaking his heart.  I hope he’s her grandpa.

I see the sun, and I feel like the entire day is mine to conquer.

Then I see it pour.  And there are squirrels no more.

Saying “what the heck” is really more severe than saying “what the hell”, contrary to popular belief, but still less severe than “what the fuck”.  Because “heck” is a combination of “hell” and “fuck”.

* * *

Whenever you ask a question and the other person replies “That’s a good question,” they don’t really mean it’s a good question.  It just means they don’t know the answer to it.  I suppose they probably think it’s a good question because they have never thought of that question.  But it’s just as likely that they have never thought of it because it is a stupid question and the fact that their mind has never come across it causes the delusion that it’s a good question.

* * *

Coffee is now a synonym for sex or dating.  You ask someone if they want to “come in for a coffee” or whether they want to “go out for a coffee”.  Coffee isn’t really supposed to be an aphrodisiac but it does quicken your heart and dilate your pupils.  So it probably does help.  You can’t lose with coffee either because you could always throw it in their face if all isn’t going well.

Working downtown again means I’m back to walking in streets with more than a couple people on them at a time, which means there are occasionally people who would be walking in the opposite direction, right on my path.  You know, one of those situations where two people are heading right towards on another and one of them has to make a sidestep to avoid a human collision. A man-a-man collision.  After various occurrences of this I’ve realized that you could easily avoid having to make a first move by directing your eyes toward the left or the right.  Chances are the other person would be looking at your eyes as they head towards you, see that you are looking in a certain direction (meaning that you’re probably planning to walk in that direction), and they would instinctively sidestep in the opposite direction.  This vastly diminishes the awkwardness of both of you moving in the same direction, be blocked, and both of you moving in the other direction, be blocked again, and so on so forth… until one of you decides to just do a half-sidestep or simply stop so to let the other go.  It’s also great if you’re lazy like me and don’t want to go through the whole process of deciding which way to go and initiating the sidestep.  Even though my laziness doesn’t stop me from going out on these walks during my break.

My friend's wonderful search earned me 2 swagbucks.

OK Facebook. None of your business and don't tell me what to do.

Everyone wins a jackpot.

Ever notice how you always look different in pictures, than from how you look in the mirror?  You always look more flattering in the mirror.

And ever notice how your voice sounds different coming out of your mouth, than from how your voice sounds in recordings?  It sounds more pleasant coming out of your mouth.

Does anybody else think there may be some sort of conspiracy going on here?!

I like to read long URLs and try to figure out what it says.

Like this: http://radionewrave.blogspot.com/

radione warve dot blogspot dot com

radion ew rave dot blogspot dot com

radio new rave dot blogspot dot com

radio on a new wave dot blogspot dot com

rad ion ew rave dot blogspot dot com

rad ion on e  in a rave dot blogspot dot com

rad i one wrave dot blogspot dot com

rad i one w rave dot blogspot dot com

rad i on e w rave dot blogspot dot com

rad i on ew rave dot blogspot dot com

…

radionewrave dot blogspot dot com

Speaking of DID, I was so fascinated with it for a little while several years back (it used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder in those days) that I actually wrote a freestyle paper on it for first-year English. I was introduced to it by an article I read in Sassy even some years before that (probably when I was in sixth or seventh grade). It was about an ordinary-looking girl who had the disorder, whom was followed around by the writer for the day. The concept of a person who was so traumatized by some event in their life that they had to subconsciously conjure up other identities to deal with it was enthralling to me. The entire illness is so mystic — how the number of identities could keep increasing as time goes on, the way some identities know about the other identities and some don’t, the way the identities could come and go spontaneously — it’s all very strange and sometimes you have to wonder whether the person is really just faking it, as was found in some real cases. I’d rather think they aren’t and that this is something that could possibly occur in nature. Mutants are intriguing.

Romance is clearly dead within the girls I know.  Being with someone ultimately becomes a means to getting married and having the life that you’re supposed to have, as dictated by something or someone whom everyone thinks is boss.  I’m trapped in a soap opera. Everyone seems to think there is one life to live.  I don’t understand the purpose of doing something simply because it’s something “you have to do”.  That is a direct quote from a girl when I asked why she must be married.  There was a split second where I wondered whether I could still be friends with this girl.  It’s a mean thought.  I periodically become plagued by mean thoughts.   Then I talk myself away from them.  It’s just that I don’t understand anyone with this kind of mentality.  How could the purpose of life be something you’re obligated to do as opposed to something you have a desire to do.  The desire to do something that you feel you’re obligated to do does not count as having a pure desire to do something, by the way.

It’s good to feel pain somtimes.  Physical pain that arises naturally.  Feeling it gives you a sense of being alive, or just a sense of being.  Pain reminds you that you’re human and that you’re existing, as a human, not just as an aimless walking piece of flesh.  You’re an aimless walking piece of flesh in pain and you have the ability to conceive that you’re in pain and is fully aware of its magnitude.  And after the pain subsides you realize your strength in enduring the pain and could relish in the fact that you could likely endure more next time around.  Then you feel proud and satisfied.  Indeed, pain brings about pride and satisfaction.  Now you’re an aimless walking piece of flesh with more self-confidence.

Then there’s emotional pain.  That’s a whole ‘nother level of pain.  That will be another post, someday.