Dusting off

Been a while, hasn’t it?

Life gets busy. I’d like to say it was because of something extremely unique like space aliens and shit, but  it’s just life catching up to me. Last few months of school, caving in to a certain someone’s advances. I took leap of faith after 2 years of playing it safe… and it has paid off in spades..

But here I am again, unable to sleep at night. Something I haven’t experienced in some time. Maybe it’s the stress of school, work piled on like never has before. Maybe it’s just me adapting to finally having my actions accountable to someone else for the first time in a while. Maybe it’s guilt over ignoring people, coincidently, since my last blog post. Maybe its the fear over finally leaving Montreal, after a 4 year long romance bromance with the city, still not sure about what to do with my life?

Maybe it’s that I feel life is moving to fast. Secretly, even to myself, am I pushing away things that represent exactly how fast life is moving on, at the same time trying to hold onto that which is static for me?

Not very exciting, but not a bad warm up. See you on the flipside.

-E

The Greyness Inbetween

Life is shades of grey for me.

My work being centered on interpretations of human history, at the end of the day i’m a strong believer of a pragmatic approach of dealing with life. Sometimes… tough choices have to me made, eggs have to be cracked and violent change has to be made.

Harvey Cox, one of the better (still alive) North American theologians (and a devout Baptist) made interesting observations in regards to how secularization was going to affect social structure in the not so distant future, and labled his discourse the “Secular City”. It was published in 1960′s, the height of Cold War tensions and the Civil rights movement well underway.  Prayer was soon to be removed from schools and within a decade abortion would be legalized as a result of Wade vs Roe. Violent change, now more then ever, was very obviously on the horizon, and clearly in a way that went against traditional Judeo-Christian  ethos.

Though he found it regretful that JFK-like, charismatic (yet pragmatic) rulers of the secular city would rise to control society,  he understood this as being beneficial in many, many ways.  The secular were capable of making tough choices, especially those of the “less of two evils” nature. I’ve done plenty of gray things in my life. But better people then me have. No time like November reminds me of more of this fact. Seas of black coats with red poppies cover the streets, each a mobile tribute to fallen war heroes. We “remember” the glory and victory, but war is perhaps the greatest necessary evil of all time.  I recently took a basic personality test, based on what you answered what one would do in  a series of fantasy-like scenarios.  My score came back “True Neutral”

“Some Neutral characters, rather than feeling undecided, are committed to a balance between the alignments. They may see good, evil, law and chaos as simply prejudices and dangerous extremes”

I found it very striking because it was true. I feel like the road to hell truely is paved in good intentions, that too much law is not justice, chaos equates to non-existence, and if everyone who was labeled evil actually was, the world would be a terrible place.

-E

Conflict (or Interval 02)

A friend of mine asked me a direct and admittedly loaded question which I couldn’t even fathom the answer to:

Are you happy?

My knee jerk and somewhat honest answer was yes, I am happy. I have much to be thankful for this year. I have great friends, my relationship with my immediate family is the best it have ever been (those who know me, know how wondrous that is), I’m well on my way towards my long term goal of being able to do my 135 KM bike race around the Island, and my tenure at Concordia will be over in a few short months.

But this doesn’t exactly make me happy. It makes me conflicted.

I feel like I’ve been continually called and relied upon on the last few weeks to re-affirm, condemn and/or make tough choices in my life and the lives of others. I really hope I’ve made the right decisions and been there as best I can, but how do I know I did the right thing? I believe the world is best articulated in shades of grey, not black and white, but I also believe that one’s actual choices reflect larger on the individual then outcome of those very decisions.

It’s really a naive question of me to ask you, ‘what is the right thing’, because that’s the funny part.

We never know. We can only hope (or pray if you’re the type) for happy endings, and plan for a bad ones.

I feel like in a way, as much as I’ve done “good” recently, I’ve also done bad. I’ve made choices that might negatively impact the lives of those I care for the most.

I think I made a good choice in re-affirming my friend’s wish to continue forward with an unexpected pregnancy. I will be there for her no matter what, and I’m proud of her and her boyfriend for taking responsibility for their actions (I’m Pro-choice, before any of you start, but sexuality = responsibility and I will not move from that position).

I think I made a bad choice by catering to people’s unrealistic expectations of life. I know they well be hurt in the future, and I’ll hurt in the process – I feel like I used soft touch where a sterner hand was required – but I live with my choices, as we all do.

I think I made a good choice to try to be more present in the lives of my extended family - especially those of my late aunt’s husband and children – but I think I made a bad choice in not giving them my 100% attention when it was due in the first place.

Even my future, I’m conflicted about what I will do when I graduate. Do I stay in Montreal? Do I go back home? Do I go to Korea? These are just the short term concerns. I haven’t even addressed my life goals directly or made any steps toward them in a year or so.

Is my love life conflicted? Yes. No. Maybe. Whose isn’t about conflict? I just hope my insecurities and hang-ups don’t get in the way of me being happy, and vice versa for those I have feelings for.

Take it away, Busta.

- E

The Good Fight.

Well, I put up the good fight, but Old Man Winter is winning.

Summer is done.

Having such dark, cold winters as we do in Montreal, I think we develop an unconditional love for summer.  Road trips, BBQ’s, weekends at the cottage. All three were personal favourites of mine this year, and here are the highlights.

#3

- McDonald’s breakfast feast.

- Almost getting into a car accident because of someone’s new glasses.

- Seeing my Dad, and wishing him a happy birthday

- Getting absolutely soaked in thunderstorm

- Listening to hard rap I forced on people a democratically elected list of music on the drive back.

#4

- Delicious BBQ treats of all different types.

- Creative use of an empty 2 liter bottle coke bottle and other house hold items.

- Two separate conversations of people talking shit about me at the table, at the same time.

- Seeing most of my good friends together at the same time

# 5

- Weekend at the cottage with 4 good friends.

-Weekend at the cottage with good friends + a dozen or so 16-17 year olds smoking more pot then Snoop Dogg in 1993.

-Ruling over said horde by both Machiavellian methods – Fear and Love.

-Sitting indoors, listening to generic alternative rock, playing card games, feeling old – but in a good way.

-Making delicious food every night.

-Being in cottage-ish situations which caused us to ponder out loud:   “…this is how horror movies start…”

If you have something cool that happened this summer, feel free to post under this. I wanna hear whats went down these last 4 months. If its winter where you happen to be (thats for you Australians), tell me what happened this winter…I guess…

-E

Trains

#2

Why are trains so magical?

Something about the low, baseline pounding of the wheels on the tracks as the world flies by at incredibly high speeds. The blinding light of the sun burning your eyes, almost like it’s trying to discourage you from leaving. Power lines hug the rail road tracks, guiding the train out of civilization and into the country. The cityscape slowly transforming into a beautiful landscape of green field.  The sky scrapers and hard pavement being replaced by endless forests and quiet dirt roads.  The deep blue of the rocks around the tracks blur into one fluidic object, making them appear of as thin river which the trains floats above towards its destination.

There is also something magical about being between places. When traveling I find one exists on the fringe of existence in some ways. You truly are “neither here, nor there”. I’ve always enjoyed the sensation of traveling. The anticipation of change – how those you haven’t seen extended period of time have changed, also how those you left behind will have changed when you return. I once had a discussion with someone, about how the accessibility of people’s lives over the internet has ruined some of the magic of traveling – I’ll admit, it does take away from the aspect of discovering change in people lives – but right now it seems irrelevant. Reading on Facebook about an event in someone’s life never truly hits home for me until I see them in person. I know what has happened to my friends in Ottawa, but I’m so very excited to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.

I know that I promised a ton of moments, but I came to the realization that there’s still a week of summer left, and concluded that I should stave off my litany until the last wisp of summer gives way to fall. Besides, summer for me is a mindset, not just a series of regularly hot days in a row. It’s more the hot days and cool nights, the suffocating humidity and the artificial cold of air conditioners.

Its about BBQ parties which run until the early morning.

Its cold beer on the patio and warm conversation with your best friends.

Its late night walks, going so long and so far that your feet hurt the next day.

See you soon.

-E

Orange and Blue (Summer P1)

#1

1. Quietly floating on the  surface of Harvey’s Lake on an inter-tube at sunset. Orange and blue sky stretching out into the horizon. Dragonflies chasing each other over the water, glancing off the surface in perfect unison. Distant sounds of family – the buzz of  faraway voices engaging in many conversations. The smell of fresh water, accentuated by the taste of clean, crisp air.

Cool winds pushing clouds across the horizon, the first hint of darkness threatening to engulfing the orange and blue streaks that colour the sky. Eyes closing. Breathing in from the mouth, exhaling from the nose. Feelings of content slowly overtaking the feelings of loss.  Memories in my head forming a slide show of that weekend:

The rush of tubing.

The smell of fireworks.

The flashes of sparklers spelling out names in the dark.

The feeling of the wick burning itself across my thumb.

The pride in having a scar to brag about.

The pain of having my eyebrows pulled out by the root.

The joy of an inside joke that will last for years.

The agony of watching your loved ones mourn a heavy, heavy loss.

Strong waves from the jet-boat pushing the inter-tube back to the shore, the murmurings of good stories and the promise of laughter. Shadows casting into the grass. Life returning to normal in the face of the unthinkable.

-E

Neglect

My bad.

Two crazy months fly by and I left my blog, collecting a thick layer of internet dust. Short of the long: death in the family followed by a period of mourning, followed by two weeks of catch up for two 6 week courses. I’ve been stressed, and saved my words for the school work.

Despite all tragedy of my late aunt Debra, my family is now closer then we’ve ever been. I’m sure the late matriarch, Grandma Mim, would be glad to know that we maintain such a close bond to each other in her memory. My Dad quietly had his 60th birthday and got to spend it with his 3 brothers – I don’t think he’d have it any other way.  Mourning has little known side affect, forcing yourself to reevalutate your current ties to people, deciding to either re-enforce or neglect that bond – i’ve decided work harder on maintain some of my long lasting relatonships, and I think he has too. I recently rediscovered a relationship with someone in my past, all because she woke up from a dream and decided to re-connect.

Due to people’s incessant nagging inspiring commentary, I’m going to be upping my posts – approximately one a day 10 days. Stay tuned.  Here’s my token musical contribution – the power of mourning, and the empowerment of expressing it.

-E

Sacrifices (Music, P4)

I find that the only thing that surprises me more than how extremely diverse music can get, is the extreme diversity in the people who make it. Lots of musicians I enjoy and respect often have a single genre which they specialize in, but often find themselves playing, writing, or producing music outside of their genre (Elton John, Chris Martin, “Douchebag” – errr Kenye West). The only real common denominator I could find was that every artist in some way makes a sacrifice for what they do.

Recently I was forced into a situation where I had to take stock of the music collection I’d accumulated since I first got my iPod three years ago, by having to wipe it clean. 20+ gigs of music gone, I took the glass half full approach: I’ll start this anew with musical suggestions from my musically inclined friends – maybe listen to some music I’d otherwise never have heard. So I set up a get together at my place with a few friends and we talked shop for a number of hours. What suggestions did I get? Not a lot, really. Instead, I asked a few other friends who either stopped playing music or didn’t play at all, and I got amazing selections. But it got me to thinking even further.

Time went by and I found myself in another situation which gave my Eureka moment. I was hanging out with friend who’s in school for music. On his desk was an iPod Video, same model as my broken one. I had sort of missed it in a way. It was still wrapped in the protective sleeve everyone seems to lose after the first month of owning an iPod. I made an offhand comment about how cool it was, but my friend merely responded that it was only really for schoolwork – he’d much rather occupy the time in between things just thinking. As a professional day dreamer, I greatly appreciated the sentiment behind the words – and finally realized why I haven’t been getting much help.

It’s work for them. They love it, on some level, but still, you need a break sometime. But even when on break, you’ll notice things about music that some of us never will.  It’s like me and history, I’m immensely interested in studying it, but i find myself sometimes wanting a break. Many people are surprised that reading trash fiction is one of my favourite past-times – but it is, if only for its simplicity and happy endings. I expect nothing but silence and the company of your own thoughts at the end of some days must feel amazing in that same way. Maybe my mediocre knowledge of music is a gift in some ways. I see it in another way, as a magical, intangible thing. I look at my favourite bands with wonder, not knowing how they make such amazing songs, appreciating their talent.

Why Abortion Should Be Retroactive.

Read: my first cliche blog rant

I was biking down the the Lachine Canal with K, perhaps one of the aesthetically pleasing paths I’ve ever had the pleasure to traverse, when something caught my eye. Two 10-12 year old kids running towards me, looking extremely guilty. Being a prime shit-disturber in my day, I immediately panned the area looking for the cause of the guilt. What did I see?

Those trite little bastards.

Being a somewhat well-intentioned citizen I called the fire department immediately, in which they responded in record time. Thankfully there is no life guard in the St. Henri gene pool, so the kids who are likely missing some chromosomes lit the vegetation on fire with the wind pushing the flames to the water. Had they lit the fire on the other side of the willow patch, most of the greenery on the side of the canal would have gone up in flames. What makes me most upset, aside from the needless destruction of natural beauty, is that the kids will receive a slap on the wrist at best. Perhaps because of my fathers ability to scare the shit out of me with his patented military yelling voice, I  never did anything that stupid of sheer fear of the consequences. I seriously considered chasing the kids down myself, instilling the fear of god into them by running one of them down with my bike , and letting the other live to tell the tale to the rest of the mall rat clan.

Don’t get my wrong, I like kids – I just hate the ones between 10-16. I was 100 percent sure I wanted to be a teacher until I helped teach a grade 7 class at a “beacon” school (Government euphemism for almost half the students coming from families below the poverty line). The experience was pretty eye opening, from the future jihad cannon fodder extremely radical Islamic offspring marching around shouting Hile Hitler during field trips to what one student described as the proper spelling and usage of the world fleeing:

“Fleaing: What you do when the fuzz is after you.”

I quickly questioned my dreams of teaching, and now I’m NOT at all interested in teaching anyone under the age of 16, in North America at least. Hopefully elsewhere they’d let me break out my Chris Brown hand.

All of this raises another question for me, where the hell are the parents? What the fuck are they doing when there kids are potentially burning down the old industrial sector of Montreal? I’m sick of income being the prevailing excuse for this sort of thing. In my early childhood my family had little money. We lived off my Dad’s salary as a Major in the Canadian Armed Forces. It was a mere pittance, and I still didn’t get up to anything close to willful arson (save maybe one trashcan fire in parking lot).  I’m also sick of people blaming music and video games. I listened to the dirtiest rap I could get my hands on without my parents knowing it when I was 14, and I sure as hell played the first Grand Theft Auto on PS One, and loved it – yet I never decided to arbitrary light shit on fire. People need to step up and take responsibility for their kids.

It could just be me, and I could be blinded by hindsight and forgot already what it was like to be that age, but it seems that kids keep getting more and more ‘tarded. 3 cheers for legalization of 50th tri-mester abortions.

-E

The Sublime Nature of Dark Music (Music P.3)

Funny how life works out for us sometimes.

I remember the heat of last summer, the late nights out on the patio with the company of a few close friends after long days at work.  The smell of the cedars in the back yard mixed with hunts of bug spray and beer. The sounds of laughter and dancing the night away to Eric Prydz without shame. Summer romances we’re as abundant as the rain showers, it seemed like both happened at the same frequency. I felt I had hit another point in my life. For the first time I can remember I had no idea how the following year would play out. So many radical changes, but where would they lead?

I take stock on the last 12 months of my life and relish in the fact it so unpredictable. I don’t regret a second of anything that happened this year, the good and the bad. I’m not sure what happened to me, if I changed into something different, or if I stopped trying to be someone different. I’ve lost a lot of friends this year, but I think I’ve gained more overall by the most unexpected people accepting me for who I am.

As a result I find my music tastes shifting significantly. I stopped listening to rap about 9 years ago because it got way to commercial. I think the song about Nike Air Force 1′s drove me over the edge – combined with my oldest friend moving far, far away -  I tuned out completely. However, I’ve gotten right back into it. It all started by listening to Heavy J’s extensive Wu-Tang collection, music I hadnt heard in over 10 years – also adding a bit of R&B i’d otherwise never listen too. The quality of the lyrics and the emotion in the delivery makes it an entirely moving experience. One song in particular is striking, and was made shortly after I tuned out.

The imagery is so vicersal and vivid. The content is shocking, but looking past the rough unpolished exterior there is a true depth that many artists seldem reach. The song gives me shivers everytime I hear it. Literally, every time.  It’s so sublime and haunting, like the the lingering touches of ghost-like fingers over the back of your neck.

-E