Winds That You Rise

Homesick

2010-04-23T02:22:00.003-04:00

Alicia, over the phone: What are you doing?

Me: I'm in the library, trying to get some work done...but I'm not feeling up to it...

Alicia: How come?

Me: I miss my friends back home. I'm looking through their facebook profiles. There was a birthday party for one fo them and I wish I was there.

Alicia: I guess the photos they posted look like lots of fun?

Me: Ya, they were in a bar and starting drawing on everything...

Alicia: Hmmm....I'm assuming this is someone only you really appreciate.

Me: Probably.

This was drawn by Mike. It says rigamortis boner. I laughed a lot.
This IS probably something only I find funny.

Facebook always makes everyone seem like there having such a fun amazing time, even though that's only because people post fun photos of each other/themselves.

Scratch that - some people post very boring things on facebook too. Their profiles tend to make me cringe.

Collecting

2010-04-16T03:06:00.006-04:00

Hostels notoriously have random things hiding under the beds in dorms or in the lockers, accidentally (or intentionally?) left behind by others. Socks, shirts, papers, jewelery, batteries, shoes are some of the typical finds.

Plenty of the things are surprisingly useful, so naturally end up taking them with me, when I leave for my next destination. After 2+ months of traveling though, my collecting has gotten rather annoying, because my bag's getting overfilled with junk. I can't just throw the stuff away though...I feel bad about doing that! Even after I finish reading a book, I feel bad not taking it with me because I love the image of being able to place the book in some future library shelves of my own, whilst being able to look over all the books Ive read.

Things I've added to my backpack thus far:

- a 2-person tent, from northern Tasmania

- 5 books, from various places

- snorkeling mask/snorkel, from eastern Tasmania

- a tarp, from Melbourne

- an umbrella, from Melbourne

By far, my most favorite acquisition was actually my first: in Hobart, the a Japanese girl offered me a free microphone so that I could talk with my boss over Skype. I was very happy to accept anything that is both immediately useful and free, so this girl ran off to her room and came back in a few minutes with what I imaged was a microphone headset. In this wonderfully stereotypical moment, she instead handed me a full sized karaoke microphone.

My meeting a few days later began with my boss telling me my voice sounded funny:

Boss: Is that an echo I can hear from your voice?

Me: Uhh..... no (followed by the fading no-no-no-no echo). I looked down at the microphone and decided to keep the "echo" setting on.

The only web camera photo I have ever taken with my computer, to commemorate the microphone.

"Are You Fucking Kidding Me!?"

2010-04-01T17:00:00.002-04:00

Anger is extremely motivational; at least it is for me.

When situations manage to really get under my skin and push me close or over that breaking point, it's as if some deep reserves of energy, focus and determination open up inside of me. At points like that, nothing will stop me from finishing what I want to do. If someone's to blame for me getting that angry, they had best run because this raged-motivation has been a source for me carrying my revenge on that person.
I know my ex-roomie is one person who was once the cause and ultimate target of my angry motivation. I recall I also once tried to strangle Tim until he passed out, for waking me up by rubbing his balls on my face...

But, this post isn't about them! - it's about me and my recent brief experience of tapping that dangerous source of motivational power.

Last week I attempted the 7-day Great Ocean Walk, a ~100km hiking and camping trek along the ocean's edge, south-west of Melbourne. I was doing it on my own. I had all the my food, water, clothes and equipment in my backpack and I would be carrying it the whole way with me.

The first day I started hiking, everything was beautiful, but every day after that was rain. My jacket and basic supply of clothes were decent quality, and I was managing to myself and my things relatively dry, but I can only do that successfully for so long. Into the 4th day of my trek, I was getting a little frustrated.

I was trying to double-time my hike so that I could get to the end of the track an additional day early - I had already managed to walk 5 days worth of distance in only 4 days. On that 4th day. the rain was manageable in the morning, but then it started getting a lot heavier in the afternoon just as I had to do a 2 km hike across an open, shelter-less beach. Since no vegetation for shelter on a beach = getting incredibly soaked, I decided to pull out my tent's tarp and attached it to some trees to give me a nice shelter to wait out the worst of the storm; no point in getting more soaked for no reason.

So I waited for the rain to cut down a bit.

....And I waited....

....and waited.

Two hours of sitting under my make-shift roof, attempting to pretend I was still interested in my book was enough: I needed to move.

The rain finally cut down slightly, so I decided this was my chance. I pulled down my tarp and decided to wrap it around me as added protection from the rain on the open beach.

10 minutes into my beach crossing, I thought my tarp-jacket idea was amazing - and then it started: the weather gods gave me the big finger. The wind picked up incredibly against me, turning my tarp into a kite that was pulling me in the opposite direction of my hike. The rain also become really intense, so I didn't want to put away the tarp. I tried hurrying across the beach but walking on sand with a giant backpack is hard, especially with the water-bogged sand.

The sheer force of the wind was pulling against the tarp to strong that it ripped the tarp into pieces, even as I held onto it. Without the tarp's protection, the clothes I was wearing and everything in my bag was being saturated with water. I also realized that with a shredded tarp, there was no chance that I would be getting any sleep as the water would seeped through my tent.

As I finally got close to the end of the beach, I saw there was now river crossing - an unbridged river crossing that I had to wade through. I wasn't about to stop and think about it - I just jumped into the water, walked through the river to the other side and followed the signs.

The closest camp site was suppose to be right after the beach, but it turns out it was at the top of a practically tree-less, water-drenched hill. So I walked up a muddy hill, still being harassed by the wind and rain, with pieces of my shredded tarp across my body in an attempt to ward off the rain.

During the whole hour-long ordeal, all I could do was yell out to myself "Are you fucking kidding me!?" over and over, while keep walking.

Finally, I got to the camp site and walked over to wooden shelter, the only real dry area left where some other hikers were sitting.

I tried to keep calm, but I was pissed. I felt like every possible natural element had conspired against me. As I tried to relax, I realized that I hadn't taken into account of everything the wind and rain had done: As I took off my shoes, I realized the dye of the utterly drenched green shoes has run and dyed my socks and feet green. Wanting to take a bittersweet photo, I took out my camera and realized that somehow during the beach crossing, the camera had been broken and no longer worked.

Wanting to keep calm, I told myself to look through my bag to find my extra [hopefully dry] shirt. With the bag wide open, the wind suddenly gusted, lifted up the shirt I was eyeing, flew it through the air and sailed it off the cliff, over the ocean.

Another hiker soon came over to me and said:
"Wow, I was watching you from the lookout of the beach - you sure moved fast across that beach!"

I looked at her, took a deep breath, faked a smile and replied:
"Ya...I felt motivated."

I slowly walked over to my packed-up tent & shredded up tarp, whilst considered throwing them off the same cliff, into the ocean, just to be done with it all.

Oh man, I was feeling ssssssssoooooooooooooooooooooooo angry....and motivated.

YouTube Kissed a Boy and People Liked It

2010-03-30T07:03:00.007-04:00

I don't typically like reposting YouTube videos featured on the website Towleroad, since by the time videos gets featured there, they has been very exposed or you who read my blog have probably already seen it before. This time I am making an exception because:

1) I really liked the video, especially when you consider who the creators are; and

2) Towleroad, and the website they took to original reference from, didn't give the directors proper credit. The video was taken from the original creators' account and reposted on the one of those accounts that collect/compiles lots of gay-themed videos.

Four British 17 year old guys made the music video for I Kissed a Boy and I Liked It (originally by the group Cobra Starship, as a parody to Katee Perry's I Kissed a Girl) as part of a media project at this high school. Knowing that, it's a fucking great video:

An interesting information to know is that those kids are actually straight and although the song and music video are homoerotic, it's from a straight guy's perspective (just like the song writers intended). Listen to the lyrics and you'll realize that it's all about being macho and impressing women. The kissing a guy part is sort of secondary.

Backpacker Culture

2010-03-23T06:06:00.005-04:00

Me: “Ya, our hostel in Hobart was right next door to a gay club. Then, in Launceston, the downstairs bar of the hostel was hosting some sort of homo-night.”

Alicia: “Hahaha, wow, Australia must be your gay awakening!”

Me: “Um, ya...well not yet...”

Alicia: “What do you mean?”

---------------

There's an odd balance between the backpacking experience and being gay.

As a backpacker, when you arrive somewhere new, as a complete stranger to the place and people, you meet lots of other travelers from different parts of the world. You’re eager to make friends, talk, hangout and so are they; you’re all in the same boat.

For the most part it’s all amazing. You share your experiences with one-another and also talk about your own little part of the world. Often you poke fun of one-another’s stereotypes: for example the French, Belgians and Swiss love to say how funny and cute the French Canadian accent is when speaking French.

I wanted to makeout with the German on the left.

When it comes to sharing your own experiences though, I only go so far. I hold back the parts of "My ex used to say that all the time. He would..." because people are offput by the idea that your gay. They want to meet new people and have fun, but most often you want to find people that are different in a non-threatening way. Who wants to put effort into challenging their own preconceptions of gay people when they can just ignore the gay person and instead take some shots with the hilarious British guys.

Has this bothered me much? Well, not really....but it's still there.

I've had opportunities to check out a local gay bar, but because I rented a car with some backpackers, I opted to hangout with them instead of walking away and risk explaining to them why they later saw me grinding with some guy. Would I really want to feel the tension of sitting in a car with 3 other people that feel awkard around me? Oh course not. Don't get the wrong, those temporary travel mates were awesome but I knew by their jokes that they weren't going to feel completely as ease with a gay guy.

The Dutch, the Swiss, the Italian

Would my view of this be different if I wasn't traveling alone but instead with a friend from back home? Who knows.

Shocked Awakening

2010-03-21T20:12:00.004-04:00

I open my eyes.

Wait, when did I come back to my bed?, I think to myself.

I look over at my clock: 7:40am.

I look around my room in the hostel: everyone's asleep.

I look down at myself: I'm completely naked on my bed.

Oh god, it happened again! Another black-out, when drinking the night before and then waking up on my bed naked!

Just as I started to worry about what I might have done the night before (for god's sake, I'm naked on my bed, sleeping in a room with 6 other people!) a friend walks into my room looking for me. I pull the covers over my waist just in time.

Friend: Get up Jon, we need to catch the ferry! I was wrong, we need to be there fore 8 am, not 11 am.

Without thinking about what she's talking about, I reply:
Okay, I'll be out in a second!

She leaves the room and I start rummaging for clothes.
No time to think about what embarrassing/awkward/amazing things I might have done......God, I hope I didn't freak out the cute German guys I flirting with.

Goodbye Canada

2010-02-15T04:56:00.006-05:00

One week ago I left Canada for Australia.

In my last week of canadian-hood, I was running around trying to see my friends as much as possible. The theory was that if we saw each other enough, we'd get sick of one-another, therefore making my continental absence for 10 months okay a little less noticeable. It didn't work - seeing so many people over such a short period made me want to hangout even more.

Tim, Mike, Xav, Liz, Kieran each got their individual moments with me. In each respective case, we just hung out their apartments. It was great.

I also had a party downtown, with over 30 friends and acquaintances showing up. The night was amazing, albeit my memory is disappointingly fuzzy. Everyone was feeding me drinks, so my brain sort of cut out around 1am. I do have a great image of sitting in a taxi, with Mike and Mike's Girlfriend of either of my sides, with Mike's Girlfriend holding her purse open in front of me saying:

"Ìf you need to puke, just do it in my purse."

She's a definitely a keeper.

Alicia and I confirmed the details of my arrival in Sydney. I'll be staying with her for a bit, and probably intermittently, while I'm in Australia. We're both incredibly excited to hangout together, as we used to do back when she lived in Montreal.

My last full day in this city was spent at home with family. We didn't do anything, but talk and hangout. Mom and Dad were mostly reminiscing of when they had gone on long trips. For my Dad, it's when he left England to attend grad school in Canada. He accentuated how he never actually went back home. My Mom spoke about he backpacking trips in Europe. She insisted, while holding back some tears in her eyes, that we needed to stay in touch otherwise she feels like we would lose the closeness we had developed since I moved back home.

They both agreed that it's going to very different at home, without me.

The morning of my flight, they both brought me to the airport and waited with me as I got the tickets and checked my bags. They walked me to the customs door, where only people boarding flgiths could continue. We hugged. I looked my Mom in the eyes and she started crying. I don't consider my self a crier, well not at least infront of others, but I started crying too.

Then I walked away and tried not to be sad - since I'm starting an amazing experience. It somewhat worked.

No One Actually Takes Baths There

2010-02-03T00:04:00.005-05:00

Let me start off this experience with a preface: bathhouses in general creep me out. Random sex with strangers, no knowledge at all about the STD status of partners and just the whole unreal environment of public sex is definitely not for me. In Montreal, there are 20-30 bathhouses. They mostly cater to "straight" tourists who come here to cheat on their wives and then go home, although there's obviously a big "out-gay" presence there. An acquaintance that works for the CLSC in the Gay Village says that half the people who test positive for an STD and whom also openly self-identify as being gay/queer say they go to bathhouses. (CLSC is a government-run public health clinic that does a lot of things, including free STD tests)

So, a few weeks ago I went to a bathhouse.

The subject of bathhouses came up in a conversation with Guy-I'm-dating; he wondered if I had ever gone to one. My answer was no, since random hook-ups with strangers is not my thing - that and STDs ain't my cup of tea. Knowing me, he was amazed that I had never even ventured into one to see the wacky world that's held inside. If I like to speak past security guards to illegally explore industrial buildings, how could I not just pay 5 bucks to see what's going on in a bathhouse?

From that, he decided we were going to a bathhouse in Quebec City. It took him a while to sell me on the idea, but I eventually caved. We weren't going there to fool around with anyone or even each other, it was just so that I knew what went on inside those walls. He also wasn't hoping to push me into anything beyond that, since I know he's also pretty nervous of unsafe sex and diseases.

If you've ever seen adds for bathhouses, they're all pretty much along the lines of the above pic: the hot, young dude in a towel. I love them because I like to pretend that some people genuinely believe that bathhouse patrons look like that. I, on the other hand, am not tricked so easily. In fact, I can now confirm it's nothing like that.

We walked into the bathhouse around 11pm. The cashier said a few sentences in French, then immediately switched to perfect English when he realized that our accents were from out of town. Hearing perfect English (or English at all) in Quebec City is rare, unless it's a business aimed at tourists. Stereotype confirmed: bathhouses are for people from out of town.

Guy-I'm-dating took the lead in exploring, since he had been in bathhouses before and clearly sensed I was uncomfortable. Straight from the start, an older guy was following us. As we both changed in the lockeroom, he quasi-watched us from around the corner, while masturbating himself. As we checked out the 3 levels of the building, he followed us. We sat in the dry sauna for a bit; the guy felt the need to hangout there too, though he seemed to cut out the masturbating a bit...but not giving up completely.

I thought it was creepy, but at the same time I knew this was all sort of normal for a bathhouse (damn you Queer As Folk!). People play the subtle game of trading glances before hooking up with one-another. They follow one-another, play hard-to-get, and get comfortable that way before hooking up - it's just the way it is.

I felt a little bad for the guy though. It's not because he's was in a bathhouse, but instead because he never had a chance with Guy-I'm-dating or myself that night. Oh, we're such [unintentional] teases! We weren't there for fooling around, but even if we were we'd probably want to do the deed with someone close to our age, skinny and good-looking, as opposed to some fat, ugly guy who's the same age as my dad. He wasn't the only guy who fell into that category though. From my perspective, everyone there was old, out of shape and ugly. Stereotyped confirmed: bathhouses are filled with older, not-so-pretty men.

After 20 minutes of refusing eye contact and ignoring him, he gave up. We found his "brother" in the wet sauna, whispering weird things to us although we didn't stick around enough to really understand. Instead, we hung out in the jacuzzi for 20 minutes and watched the strangers walk by. Oh, and made out a bit.

The clientele aside, the bathhouse itself was actually really nice and clean. It was surprisingly huge and empty, which means we probably just came on an off-night. I had assumed that the place would be dirty and the floors would be covered in mysterious liquids, but it was nothing like that. It felt like some sort of spa...with naked men having sex. Stereotype unconfirmed: bathhouses are not dirty.

We were both starving after our short stay, so we changed back and the lockers an headed to the lobby. The cashier seemed happy to see us again, but a little down that we were leaving so soon. I think he has been hoping for a show.

Last Minute Relationship

2010-01-25T00:16:00.006-05:00

As you might be able to tell from my last post, I've accidentally started dating a guy. Funny how these things develop at the least opportune times, eh? I'm leaving for Australia in 14 days and yet I've already hit the mental stage of needing to consciously refrain from mentioning the guy-I'm-dating's name in every conversation topic with friends, regardless how unrelated it is, just because it makes me feel all giddy and gooey inside. Yup, I'm the most annoying type of friend-who's-just-begun-seeing-someone.

It just goes to show how making some new gay friends can be very helpful for meeting interesting guys.

I'm surprised by how well the last 3 weeks have gone. He likes mocking everything, including himself. I like mocking everything, including him...oh and me too. I'm not typically a physical touchy-feely type of person, but when we're not around others I just love to constantly have one hand on his arm, leg, back or...um, *throat clearing*...or parts... I'm going arbitrarily say that it's his Frenchness that brings it out all this cuddling. He also gets along great with my friends, and on his own, - so there's no need watch over him when we're in a big group.

Earlier this week I was in Quebec City with him, for his school. He has 2 days of school there per week, but spends every other day in Montreal with his friends and I. It's an odd routine from my stand-point, but hey, I like it. While he was in class, I explored the old city and worked a bit. Oh the perks of just picking up my laptop and working from where-ever I want.

That being said, it's not like I did much work. I mostly explored during the day and spent time with him at night.

Oh, and I mocked his gay magazine collection a lot.

He has known since the start that I'm leaving for Australia. I've held it in the back of my mind too, as a reminder to not fall too much for him and just keep it light-hearted fun. He'll be in Canada when I get back next fall/winter, so we already know we'll meet up again. No promises of anything beyond that though, which we're both happy with.

Bisous

2010-01-14T22:09:00.005-05:00

Him: You think too much.

Me: Ya, I know...

Him: It's not good for you. Just go with it.

I laugh awkwardly - it seems to be turning into my standard response when I don't know what to say. He's caught onto that pretty quickly.

Him: I never feel shameful. There's no point; why should I care about what other people think?

I smile.

Me: Ya, I noticed that...something about you shoving me into your bedroom without warning and all my friends going silent from the hilariousness of it all.

He keeps staring at me. He quickly looks down at my lips then back at my eyes.

So we kiss in the bar.

Him: Bisou?

Me: Bisou.

We kiss some more.

I wish I could show you the hilarious awkward look we're giving one-another.

Bachelor Party

2009-12-24T22:34:00.005-05:00

Two friends of mine tied the knot this past fall. They are the first people I've known to get married. I'm betting they also not the last, since my general groups of friends are reaching the age when the weddings will be exploding from left-right-and-center.

I've never before been invited/attended a wedding. Oh god, it was fun. But more importantly for this post, I had never attended a bachelor party.

Leading up to the bachelor party, I couldn't help but think of the circumstances: parties like this are the stereotypical stag night where all the straight-guy friends of the groom come together and bond over their macho-ness and the groom's last night of freedom, typically by getting drunk and hitting up the strip clubs. They're a group of loud, annoying guys who walk up and down the popular bar/clubs streets, making as much noise as possible and being the biggest douches known to man. And this night, I was gonna be part of that group!

It didn't bother me at all being the only gay guy there - like with everything else I do, I rarely feel out of place in straight environments. I did however make a bit of a slip-up when I first met the bachelor group at the restaurant. I didn't do a good job of censoring my first thought to the group:

Wow, 20 guys hanging out all night. This is like the gayest thing ever.

Ten of their faces gave an awkward expression. I did my best to save the situation:

Oh wait, wrong crowd to say this stuff around...wrong crowd...

As we left the restaurant I found myself being a sort of leader for everyone, picking out the bars where we'd rush in, take a shot, then skip out to the next place. The best man didn't really know where to go, so he didn't seem to mind. I had a good time chatting with the guys. I had met most of them before, at one time or another. I found myself sort of focusing my attention on one of the guys who clearly was high and a little tipsy early into the evening. He has these naturally light grey eyes, black hair and super white skin...which made me consciously compare him to a zombie... a hot zombie.....no, I have no idea why.

zombie dude

As part of the evening, the gang had created a list of dumb things that the groom had to do over the course of the night, take a body shot off someone or get a girl to spank you. I liked my addition to the list: show a random woman your penis. Unfortunately, the groom did not seem to appreciate my creativity.

As the night progressed, we stopped off a one last bar before heading to the strip club. As usual, I got a bunch of pitchers and shots for everyone. I was pretty happy at that point - drunk happy. On my way back from the bathroom, I ran into a guy I went to highschool with. He was clearly in the same alcohol-induced happiness as me.

Guy: Holy shit, Thomas! How've you been!

Me: Heeyyy [Guy]! I'm doing great! I'm out here with a bunch of guys for my friend's bachelor party! We're stopping off here before the strip club.

Guy: Oh cool! The one around the corner?

Me: Ya

Guy: I hear that if you give a stripper $300 bucks she'll give you head!

I was a little surprised that he would say that, because to me the "I hear that if..." part actually means "I once payed 300$ for a stripper to give me head". Lucky for me, I'd oddly good at hiding shock and coming up with quick responses when I'm drinking. So I made up this doosy:

Me: Really? I'm thought it was $150?

That response blew his mind. I'm pretty sure he went home that night convinced that I go to strippers for blow jobs, just like I'm now convinced he does the same.

Soon the last part of the night began: the strip club. I have to admit that I was REALLY EXCITED to go to the strip club. Only a small part of my enthusiasm was because of the drinks: on a few other random occasions I had petitioned my friends to go to one but they always "didn't feel like it" or were "morally opposed" to going. From my perspective, I thought it was going to be so hilarious seeing naked women everywhere and overly excited guys. I was not disappointed. It was almost completely packed, with groups of guys all talking and having a good time. There were women on stage and others walking around, offering dances. Some of the guys from our bachelor group banded together to reserve a private booth, overlooking the whole floor.

I spent most of the time laughing at the completely fantastical nature of the strip club: completely naked women rubbing themselves all over guys; the intense focus some of the guys showed when they got their lap dances; the amount of ass and tit grabbing. I was definitely more excited than some of the straight guys in our party.

Toward the end, I was so drunk that I decided to make one of the dumbest mistakes you can do in a strip club: take a picture. I pulled my camera out of my pocket, and coyly put it down at my hip, out of view. I turned the flash off, and slowly listed it over my leg and took the photo of a stripper straddling on of the guys in my group.

So now I have the above blurry picture of a stripper, and a blurry picture of some other stripper's vagina, which I'm obviously not posting.

.....Sweet.....

(Argh, it was so stupid - although executed really well. No one noticed, since I clearly still have all my front teeth and didn't get the shit beaten out of me by a bouncer.)

The vag-shot aside, I can;t wait for future bachelor parties.

ETA 1.5 Months

2009-12-16T00:00:00.005-05:00

Over the last 4 months, the local government of Montreal posted up adds all over the city for...living in the city. They seem to want people to stay in Montreal, as opposed to moving away. I don't really understand the point of the adds, since the city is definitely not suffering from a falling population. We are the second biggest city in Canada after all - if anything we're only getting bigger.

Quitter Montreal, mais pour aller òu? - Leaving Montreal, but to go where?

In my Not Dead Yet return post, I said I had some big news. Here it is: at the end of January/beginning of February, I will be experiencing a change of environment. It won't be permanent, but I definitely won't be back in Montreal, or Canada, for at least 9 months. In fact, I'm traveling to the opposite side of the Earth.

Where am I going? Australia.

Tired of not having some big goal to look forward too, I decide to head to that other former British colony. My 1-year visa has already been issued and I'm now in the process of deciding my exact plans whilst there. Alicia lives just outside of Sydney, so that will be my first landing point. It'll be amazing to see her again in person. From there, I'm not sure if I'll simply rent a place around Sydney, or if I'll travel around for a bit before settling. Two other options are that I'll stick to some quasi-nomadic routine of moving around every few weeks or I'll use Alicia as a home base and travel back and forth from there.

My job is following me to Australia too, although my boss already knows I'll only work periodically. While I've saved tons of money from living at home with my parents, this'll guarantee that I still make some money while away.

With me being less at work and out doing fun things, I assume that activity of this blog will go up. I've also been thinking I might need to change the banner to something more appropriate...like me riding a emu? Or how about this picture representing my Canadian invasion?

Hmm, maybe I'll have to find something else...

My friends' reactions to my plans is mostly joy and excitement. Alicia can't wait to have a North American visitor from her old life. Xav, Kieran and Liz are really happy for me. My plans seem to have triggered Tim into wanting a change as well, so he announced he's moving to Vancouver this summer (while I'm gone) with his girlfriend. Mike's reaction seems to be the exception: he's freaked out because he'll be losing me and later on Tim, the two main/close guy friends he has.

I stared off my post talking about the advertisements because I like to imagine that the city of Montreal posted up those Don't Leave Us adds just for me, as a last ditch effort to get me to stay. They really did coincide perfectly with the initiation of my plan. Seems that I'll unfortunately have to write a letter to the city saying I'm sorry my fair lady but I'm still leaving.

She shouldn't worry though, I'll be back to continue our love affair - though I do expect a whole bunch of Thank God You're Fucking Back posters.

Not Dead Yet

2009-12-13T21:06:00.003-05:00

No-no, I'm not dead.

And no-no, the blog's not dead either.

I've been really busy at work. Unfortunately as time at work (at the computer) increases, my willingness to be in front of a computer when not working decreases. Sorry internet blog!

But things will change soon - oh, how they will change. I won't elaborate in this post, but I'll let you guys know real soon. I think I might even need to change my banner...

Over the last ~3 months I've written down a nice, fun list of things I need to blog about. Hehehe, plenty of good moments to write about as I play catch-up.

My blogging absence has gotten a bunch of you readers, in particular ones I did not know existed, to message me. I really appreciate the feedback and it's always an amazing encouragement to hear that someone enjoys reading all my crap! Thank you Same-Old-Faces and New Ones.

Splat

2009-10-16T02:14:00.004-04:00

I have never came on my own face until tonight.

In all honest, I'm actually really shocked by it - and there was a lot!

My reaction was to freeze, thinking to myself HOLY SHIT...THAT WAS WEIRD.

In fact, I'm shocked enough to turn on my laptop and write this random diddy in the blog.

So...enjoy!....I suppose....

Oh, and the pictures are in no way related to the post.

Diary

2009-09-25T00:59:00.003-04:00

I would like you to keep this photo in mind while reading this short, random post. Also, I would like to point out my pointed toes - it's all in the pointed toes.

This was taken just over a year ago in St. Petersburgh, Russia.

Thomas:
Dear diary,

Xav sucks.

Love Thomas.

PS: See you tomorrow!

Xav: I always knew you were a big girl.

5 Minutes to Midnight

2009-09-23T22:31:00.009-04:00

What do you think is worse: To have your life is come to a drastic and immediate end or to have your life slowly seep out from you over time, as you lose control of your body and mind? This is the question I've been mulling over today.

After finishing an online meeting this morning, I walked downstairs to find my Mum in tears while talking on the phone. I sat down next to her, without interrupting, awaiting the bad news that was going to be explained to me once she was done with the call. She soon hung up the phone and let it out: Oldest Brother was in Toronto for a conference. He had decided to randomly stop by my Grandmother's house to visit. He rang the doorbell and knocked a few times, without an answer. He found the door unlocked, so he let himself inside. He ended up finding Grandma lying on the ground in an overwhelming pool of blood, without the ability to speak coherently. A 911 call later, phone calls back and forth between himself and us in Montreal, and about 10 hours of time, my Grandma is now in the hospital with a broken nose, probably broken pelvis, what seems like a stroke, and in a quasi-coma. To add onto that she's hooked up to a respirator and has yet to speak to anyone. She may have been lying on the kitchen floor for a full day, unable to help herself, before Oldest Brother walked in.

She only briefly appeared once in my blog, but that shouldn't make you think I don't care a lot about my Grandmother. Independent, quick, witty and always interesting & entertaining, she's the only grandparent I have really known well.

In this situation, like I said to my Mum, we should only focus on the immediate since there's no point in thinking about the repercussions of everything that
s going to follow over the long term. Still, just as my Dad verbalized what we all separately thought, there are only two outcomes right now: in the next few days, Grandma's precarious condition will deteriorate and she will die, or she will recover but be forced into some sort of home or assisted care due to her injuries and stroke, where she will stay for the rest of her days.

Obviously you should understand why I began the post as I did.

The truth is that it took me only a few minutes to make my decision: I'm hoping for a quick, sudden death for my Grandma.

Worse than the current predicament, I'd be a lot sadder if we had to keep her in some sort of old folks' home. One of the things she values the most is her liberty and self-sufficiency. Giving up her current home of 50+ years, the garden, her car and all her activities would be devastating to her. When the doctors asked my Mum, over the phone, if they could hook her up to the breathing device, my Mum answered: "I know she would fight it but I am going to say yes for my own selfish reasons."

To add onto that, Grandma was always one of the most eloquent and pertinent conversationalists; when she has something to say, it sounded important, beautiful and intelligent. The doctor's don't know the intensity or damage of the stroke, but I've seen others get wrapped up in frustration from not being able to express themselves when their words were once their closest friends. I don't think I could bare to stand that.

Oddly enough though, my feelings for my Mum are trumping those for my Grandmother. Since they are mother and daughter, I know my Mum will take/is taking this situation worse than the rest of the family. All I can do right now is comfort her (which I personally think I am quite good at). The sad truth is that if Grandma does survive the next few days, a long, drawn out half-life for my Grandmother would just sap the strength out of my Mum. I know it would exhaust her and rip the well-placed heart off of her sleeve. She would be by my Grandmother's side day and night, which is wonderful, all the while the circumstances would depress her more and more.

So here's to taking each day once at a time, coming together as a family, watching and waiting.

Gay Ol' Time

2009-09-22T00:01:00.005-04:00

We found our perfect spot in the sun at Tamtams, surrounded by the other few thousand people whom decided to make the park their relaxing sport for the afternoon. I had convinced my friends to pass by this amazing Portuguese chicken place I had been craving for a few days. Apparently only two of us were even going to order some takeout. The other two were vegan, vegetarian or something close to that. Ah yes, I should have know. You are queer women so stereotypes say you must be anti-meat. I apologize, I had forgotten.

We chatted about anything and everything while I ate my greasy chicken with my hands. My excitement for salty, spiced chicken had overruled the common sense of actually getting utensils, so this was my punishment. My friend, who also had ordered the chicken with me, even decided to forgo his unnecessary diet. Portuguese chicken can apparently also make a young, skinny, attractive-by-the-accounts-of-everyone gay male forget about his irrational need for the most cut abs ever. It's good stuff.

And so this was the first day in years I actually spent comfortably hanging out with a group of gay/lesbian/queer only friends

Unlike my other experiences with making or having gay friends (one recap here) everything felt normal and right with them. They talked about things I knew and liked. We joked around; they laughed at my rude & deprecating humor. I didn't feel awkward around my gay guy friend, as I do with others. I didn't feel like I was walking on eggshells with the two queer ladies. It was just so new and better than a few years back when I had a fay group of friends.

In hindsight it feels like a testament to how much I've changed. I actually felt normal around a group of gay friends.

After relaxing at the park, we just walked around Montreal, showing one of the girls the city that has only been her home for 1 week.

It was good.

I TALK LIKE THIS

2009-09-20T00:07:00.000-04:00

Friend: You know, it's always really easy to tell when you're drunk.

Me: Oh really? How so?

Friend: You get really loud.
Me: Haha, ya... I tend to lose my volume control.

Friend: Oh definitely, you are the worst offender for that. If neighbors ever make a noise complaint, I like to think it's because of you.

Me: Ohhh....well, uh...thanks, I guess...

On conduit dans les Catons-de-l'Est

2009-09-17T22:20:00.006-04:00

Ever wondered what the classic French-Canadian/Québécois sounds like? Perhaps you already speak Molière's French (a.k.a. France-French) and have never ventured into the wondrous region of Quebec? Well let my blog give you a brief glimpse into the language.

I stumbled onto this great video of some Quebecois family letting their 7 year old drive the car in the country.Ah, so irresponsible and so much fun. Most (all?) of you probably can't understand what's being said. If some of you even speak French, you might not be able to get any of the words. But that's okay, just enjoy.

Let me provide you with some translation of what's being said:

Father: Here is my wonderful son, Samuel, who is only 7 years old and driving the car! I'm not even looking to make sure he's driving well! He's so confident. Smile for the camera my beautiful son!

Mother: No no, stop he's going to give me nightmares! Slow down!

Father: Ahaha, you can hear Mom screaming in the back like a chicken! Oh look, and here's our daughter and ..

Mother: Sylvain! SYLVAIN! SAYLVAIN! LOOK WHERE HE'S DRIVING! HE'S TOO CLOSE TO THE SIDE!

Father: Hahaha, see now we've recorded your Mom's nervous temperament, to re-watch for years and years...

[expressions I don't quite hear and/or understand]

Father: And look, my son has sped up to 70km/h (43miles/h). He's crazy! Hahaha, He's going fast - he's going fast! Fast - fast - fast -fast... I love you my little driver!

Just so you know, that is a pretty accurate translation. Maybe slightly too literal, but that was done on purpose to make it more awkward & funny.

The full length video may or may not have ended with them hitting a moose. We will just never know...

Socializing at Work

2009-08-30T23:39:00.008-04:00

Although I'm great with clients and co-workers in work meetings, I tend to become awkward with those same people when they try to bridge from the work aspect of our relationship to a more personal one. What I mean is: talking with some co-workers about changing the software to better assess a client for ADHD is fine, but when someone makes a joke about their girlfriend, I reply with a fake laugh and pull their focus back onto the meeting topic. In a similar form, if they try to chat me up about my weekend or my personal life, I tend to kind of deflect the question away with "Oh, I'm doing fine", "nothing much", "ya, pretty good" without bothering to reciprocate the question back to them.

Some of the reasons for reacting like that would be my tendency to keep my work life and personal life separate. It's not that I believe they should be non-overlapping, but I just tend to not want to share details about myself with people whom I might not consider a friend - this is undoubtedly layover from my intensely closeted, self-preservation days. Most people like to ask the generic, general bonding questions of "How are you with the ladies?" or "Do you have a girlfriend?". My answers tend to involve unelaborate lies of "I do alright for myself" or "Not right now", without any interest in reciprocating the investigative and kind-natured queries.

On a separate level though, I've always had trouble considering clients, co-workers or even professors and teaching-assistants (TAs) to be people like myself, with personal lives and interests beyond the same company or university class. Back in university, I easily imagined Profs and TAs as people who attended a class for the day, then returned to their offices where they waited there patiently for the next day's class to arrive. Yes, I thought of them as robots.

Exceptions for these rules do of course exist: I work with Kieran and we talk about anything. That is of course because I knew him before work. My boss is, oddly enough, also an exception to this rule. He's just way too cool not to talk to.

As a change from my normal work routine last week, my boss asked me to head to a downtown office for the full week. A special, big-name clinician/trainer was in town so he wanted me to handle her in-person and hangout in the background in case she needed help while at the office.

The first two days were both stressful and boring. My normal day consists of on-and-off work-and-play: when I want a break, I go watch TV, or cook, or bike to a cafe. But in an office, when I needed a break I didn't know what to do. Go talk to the many co-workers/office people, all zooming around and talking to one-another? Ya right, that violates my modus operandi. So I'd pretty much go get a glass of water from the kitchen, smile, nod, deflect personal questions and then sit back down in my chair and force myself to work more.

As the end of the week arrived though, I wasn't going to stand being bored out of my mind anymore: I decided to try considering my co-workers as human beings *cringes* and actually enjoy talking with them. After strategically placing myself at a new desk, next to a very friendly guy I had previous shared lots of online meetings with, I just waited for the social opportunity to show itself.

My first chance eventually materialized: my neighbor swiveled his chair around and threw out a comment.

Guy: Oh jeez, that damn school-parents association is giving my wife a hard time...

Me: I would LOVE to hear about it.

He gives me a quick awkward look, since my voice had way too much eagerness and very little of my standard indifference. I took a mental note to be less excited by his mundane chatter. I then immediately took a second mental note, to avoid thinking of people's conversations as mundane chatter.

Turns out my social pounce was the perfect springboard for actually enjoying myself at the office. We got to talking more throughout the day and I really started enjoying speaking with him. It probably helped as well that I spent half an hour on a Skype call with drunk Alicia (in Australia), who was seeking advice on what to do about having a long distance boyfriend and having "accidentally" spent two hours making out with a lesbian, whom she then invited over to sleep with her. My co-worker seemed quite captured by my exclamations of "well if you want to sleep with a girl, go ahead just remember your boyfriend will probably be pissed" and "I'm not too sure what to say to get out of this...I'm only good at getting out of 3-somes".

From that first guy, I got the confidence and the state-of-mind to see the others around me as non-robotic, normal people too. Next, I began chatting with the front-desk assistant and some other account woman. Some engineers seemed to respond to my friendliness and come over to me. By then end of the day, I was having an awesome end of day with some 50 year old woman make sexual innuendos as she tried to teach me to use the automatic coffee machine.

Lady: Remember, just jam the rod into the hole. You should know how to do that!

Me: *Laughter*

Lady: Now take that flat piece - remember, flat like my chest - and place it on top of the rod. To review, the thing's flat like what?

Me: Like your chest!

Lady: Exactly!

Maybe my co-workers and I even looked excited like this!

Impromptu Boston/Provincetown

2009-08-26T23:11:00.008-04:00

The best kind of trips are randomly proposed and immediately executed:

Oldest Brother's Girlfriend, at 1am: Hey Thomas, want to come to Boston with me tomorrow?
Me: YES!

And to Boston I went! My work wouldn't mind the sudden disappearance, especially since I left a note in the company calendar:
Thomas is in Boston - I ain't coming to work, bitches!

I was essentially on my own for the 4 days. Oldest Brother's Girlfriend was there for a conference all day long, each day, so I spent my time wandering and seeing the sites alone. As with my previous trip to New York & Washington DC, I think it would be a lot more fun to write about the random and stereotypical things that I have learnt on this holiday.

On an unrelated note, I don't like saying "I was on vacation" or "I'm going on a holiday" because I feel like my normal life pretty much one giant vacation in itself, but anyway...

Here we go!

- Boston is filled with the crazies. So many wacky homeless (?) people.

- I should smile more, as one crazy person pointed. Especially with my hair, as he also pointed out.

- The only single guy buying entrance to an aquarium, whilst surrounded by families with young kids, makes me wonder if people think I'm a pedophile.

- Boston has an excess of uggoes, also known as ugly people. Oldest Brother's Girlfriend also really noticed that.

- An exception to the above rule is most people running in the parks along the river. All beautiful men run along the river, shirtless.

- I could live in the downtown Boston Public Library. It's like a castle.

- Provincetown (CapeCod) is possibly the gayest town ever. If the world would be reversed so that gays were 90-95% of the population and straights were 5-10%, all places would look like Provincetown.

- I'm in love with the sand dune landscape of Provincetown.

- Only in a super ultra gay town beach would you ever hear a 35 year old man exclaim loudly in the bitchiest voice:
"Argh, I have sand in my foreskin"

- Awkward looks were shared by all strangers, after the above comment was heard.

- There's something really cute about seeing two 50 year old women walk down the beach together, and one slides her hand in the other's so casually, and it remaining so normal.

- It's surprisingly easy to fall asleep behind a wooden crate, on the top floor of the hydrofoil boat, on the way back to Boston from Provincetown.

- It's fun to visit Harvard, whilst mocking it at the same time. This is accomplished by taking stupid photos of yourself with Harvard as a backdrop. Saying "OOOoohhh, Look at meee! I go to HAAAAAARVVAAAAAAAARD" also helps.

Too bad you can't see my eyes. It completes the photos.

- "Pffft, you're just jealous you didn't go there!" Yes. Yes I am a bit.

Dentures, or lack there-of

2009-08-15T01:02:00.003-04:00

Craigslist amazes again! I feel liek this has to be made up, but I kind of hope it isn't:

Click on the picture to enlarge!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, Gumjobs!

Oh man!

Thank you!..... Thank you!..... Thank you!

2009-08-11T22:41:00.006-04:00

One of the odd traits that is included on my resume of qualities is sleepwalking. Yep, I'm a sleepwalker.

Although it's common for young kids and teenagers to sleepwalk, no one seems to have informed my body about that fact because I still do. It doesn't occur often (or, at least not in a way that I or people around me have noticed or pointed out) , but I have been on a bunch of sleepwalking adventures.

When I'm in a sleepwalking episode, my body and face clearly look awake (my eyes are open, I walk around normally - no stumbling) but it's clear that "Thomas isn't home". "I", used in loose terms because it's not complete my personality in the driver's seat, am very single-minded and frankly stupid when sleepwalking. I may or may not have glazed-over eyes. I don't react normally to people around me. Based on other peoples' descriptions of my behavior, it's as if I'm acting/reacting like I exist in a dream world: some dreams have wacky logic that you adamantly know is true, but when you wake up you realize that reality was just so dumb and illogical.

I don't remember any of my sleepwalks, unless I wake up in the middle of them. The few times that happens, it takes me a very confusing 20 minutes to figure out the difference between my sleepwalking, dream-like world and reality. I have sat in the bathroom for 30 minutes before, trying to decide if I was in my house or if I should still be trying to run away from the first mate on a 15th century navy boat. I'm not joking at all.

The most recently amusing sleepwalking episode occurred 2 or 3 years ago, when I slept over at Liz's family home. See had made a huge special dinner (as I recall it was a "Hey Jesus died this weekend so I want to invite 12 of my favorite people over to dine with me!") and I decided to sleep over. Long after I had fallen asleep, Liz and Tim (who was also staying the night) were still quietly talking in the same room. They watched me get up off the couch, walk over to the tv-cabinet and start looking through all the drawers. They asked me what I was doing but I completely ignored them; I was much too interested in rummaging through the drawers.

Next I made my way to the kitchen, where I was looking through all the cabinets as well. Liz and Tim were right behind me. They caught on to the fact I was sleepwalking, since I had previously told them stories about my episodes. Eventually, I recognized their presence by saying "I'm trying to find the bathroom", as I kept rummaging under the sink. Liz told me where the bathroom was, even though I already knew where it was since I had visited her house plenty of times. I ignored her, and the bathroom on the main floor, as I walked toward her sleeping parents' and siblings' bedrooms, intent on finding this mysterious bathroom in some drawer.

After some more coaxing and before I the chance to freak out the sleeping [Liz's Last Name] family, they convinced me to check out the bathroom in the basement. Apparently I didn't want to ignore that one. It seemed to work - I walked in, closed the bathroom door. Liz and Tim went back upstairs.

20 minutes passed without me reappearing.

Liz told her brother, who had just appeared, to go check on me downstairs. He apparently came to the bathroom, called out my name, and waited for a response. I didn't answer. He cautiously opened the unlocked bathroom door to find me standing directly against the door, facing him. He described the situation as one of those horror movies where the killer is as close as possible to the victim before the scary jump moment. Naturally, I was playing the killer's role. I freaked the shit out of him.

Without taking any notice of Liz's brother's reaction of terror, I went upstairs to lie back down on the same couch, where I was sleeping before my grand bathroom search began. Liz and Tim were sitting back in their chairs talking. It seemed like I was back asleep...

... but I got up again. I walked over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered with the utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
I then went back to the couch to sleep.
Then I got up again. I went back over to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder again and whispered, again, with utmost sincerity:
"Thank you!"
Then, I, again, went back to the couch.

Nope it wasn't done yet. Once more, with feeling, I got up, went to Liz, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered "Thank you!", before returning to the couch.

After being stuck in a short loop, I finally stayed asleep. I woke up next morning to Liz and Tim's big grins and my own embarrassment. That was the second time that I slept-walk outside of my own home and in front of non-family members.

In all honesty, that specific event made me a bit apprehensive about my sleepwalking. I have no memories of the majority of these events so it feels like my conscious or personality is not in control of the things I could potentially do. What if I had decided to just whip out my dick and start waking off!? Imagine the story they'd tell me the next day! Or maybe they'd hit me to wake me up and then I would be incredibly confused, with my dick in my hand, feeling like a huge pervert! Uuuhhh...

But oh well, I can't control it...so I might as well enjoy the good stories.

Postcard

2009-08-09T16:40:00.003-04:00

This is so me:

Thanks again, PostSecret.

On Gayness and Swedes

2009-08-07T00:18:00.006-04:00

Every summer, a Swedish friend of ours jumps on a plane headed for Montreal to visit his sister, brother-in-law, nieces/nephew, cousin and us for a month or two. We first met him about 5 years ago through his cousin (a.k.a. one of our friends) at a big weekend party. Since that first party, he's become a regular in the gang when he's in the country.

Oh Sweden - the land of hot blonds (and brunettes!) and vikings

Although his English is freaking amazing for anyone who learns it as a second language, he sometimes has these weird ways of acting or reacting. I've always assumed these oddities are related to the differences between our culture (that of the general people in Montreal/Quebec or Canada+US) and that in Sweden. I know some of his jokes and expressions are definitely lost in translation...

Soon after the first party, so many years ago when we got to know him, the question came up: do you think he's gay? No - I didn't ask the question first. I'm pretty sure it was probably Mike. None of us were particularly sure. He never mentioned any women in stories or him finding anyone particularly hot. Mike seemed convinced of the Yes-he's-gay answer. Xav agreed with Mike, on the lines of "I felt like he was looking at me too deeply, as if he was checking me out sometimes". I was actually on the No side with the reasoning "He's not gay, he's European!" (Sorry to any Euros reading this, but from an American/Canada standpoint a lot of physical mannerisms and styles Europeans tend to come off as stereotypically gay from our perspective. If it makes you feel better though, most people in Montreal come off as gay to non-Quebecois, for the same reasoning...). Tim took my side with the Not-gay point too.

For years we lightly joked about the possibility. We conveniently ignored the fact that he has accidentally filmed his female cousin skinny dipping and running around naked (Note: His cousin, Kieran and I initiated the streaking), although I think that relates more to the blood-relation factor than the ruining-our-gay-joke-suspicions.

This summer came round and the Swede was back here again. The big weekend summer party happened again. New faces at the party joined in on the joke and took the Not-Gay and Gay sides. It seemed like the two sides would be at a stalemate, but the Swede had something else in mind.

On the first night, we taking cover in the cabin from the rain and wind. I was in the main room, sitting crossed-legged on a bed, whilst talking to a group of people, the Swede included. We had already drank plenty by then. The Swede casually walked over to me, sat directly in my lap, while leaning on me. I put my arm around his side, even though I was adamantly chanting in my head:

"DON'T GET A BONER. DON'T GET A BONER. DON'T GET A BONER."

I suppose denial is powerful force in me, because I still kind of stuck to the Not-Gay opinion. Maybe all Swedish men sit in each others' laps - how would I know!? He got up after a few minutes and I, nor anyone, said anything about it...well, at least not that weekend. The Gay side gained a few more supporters.

Fast forward two week later: a big group of us are enjoying socializing in a bar. I'm chatting with some friends at a table, the Swede included. He's sitting on a stool and I'm standing next to him. He casually pulls me closer so that I'm sitting on me. The Not-Gay side officially loses all support.

A few of my friends suggested I should have hooked up with him, but I really wasn't interested. Why might you ask? Like I've said, I'm all for hook-ups, but I just got the odd impression that he would become romantically attached to me somehow. Again, maybe its the lost-in-Swedish-translation thing again but I got the feeling that I would become his focus whilst he was in Canada, this year and maybe futures ones when he came back for the summer. I just didn't want to chance ruining a friendship by having to intentionally distancing myself from him.

A small part of me does think I should have just said "fuck it" and made out with him though.

No Class at Osheaga

2009-08-04T00:24:00.010-04:00

Nothing says class like buying a small bottle of whiskey and shoving into your crotch to smuggle it into a music festival. The festival organisers are asking for this though: if they're gonna make me pay 5.50$ for less-than-a-bottle of crappy beer, I think it's okay for me to do that. Maybe the group of women, who saw me stick my hand shamelessly and completely down into my junk to retrieve the bottle after clearing security, were a bit shocked, but I'll forgive them. We all need to make allowances, right?

PS: Prodige are my most favorite briefs ever.

On a different note, if Girl Talk ever makes its way to where you live, buy tickets. He (no, I have no idea why he chose the name Girl Talk) is the most phenomenal live act. It was completely worth skipping over live ColdPlay to see him. The entire hour+ was just a wild dancefest, with the audience dancing on-stage, giant inflatable beach balls, confetti, inflattable tubes, toilet paper, exploding balls with money (yes, real money) and fireworks in every direction. Two days after the festival, my body still physically hurts from the amount of funk that was coarsing through it and being released as body gyrations.

And for another complete shift in post direction:

Awww, Liz still luvs me.

Awww, Oldest Brother was briefly in town and still loves making fake smiles when I try to take his photo.

Awww, Mike & Mike's Girlfriend are cute - though even better: he's actually regularly & often appearing in our lives again!

Missing In Action

2009-07-29T23:44:00.003-04:00

I realize I've haven't been posting much.

The reason for that is that I've just been feeling extremely unmotivated when it comes to writing stuff on the computer. This is especially true for work. Since my foot injury (which is all healed up now!) I've been completely unmotivated for sitting in front a computer for work/meetings or blog writing. When I was hurt, all I did was work. Now, my mind is just back-lashing at the thought of spending EVEN MORE time at a keyboard. Even if I'm in front of the computer screen, for work, I don't even have the motivation to open up my work programs to get something done. Suffice to say: I'm not making a lot of money. Of course, I have few expenses so that doesn't really matter...

It doesn't help that an opportunity to release some steam hasn't produced itself, when an adventure in upstate New York was canceled the day-of due to Kieran's car dying in Quebec City.

On a more positive note, I have been out living life instead of being cooped up at home. As you can guess by two posts lower, at times I'm sort of going crazy, but I'm still having fun. I've had plenty of mildly interested stories...that I will hopefully write once I get the strength to go through the process.

Oh ya, you should thanks Guy from Chicago - he wrote me an email that kicked me in the ass enough to write this post. Cheers Justin.

Identity - Part 2

2009-07-29T21:11:00.013-04:00

Before you read this post, you should probably refresh your memory with Part 1. Ya, I realize it's been quite a wait...

-------

Part 1 should have given you a sense of the historical antagonism and annoyance that Quebecers (a.k.a. the Quebecois) and all other Canadians seem to have for one-another. The St-Jean and Canada day holidays are symbolic reminders of how these two groups seem to compete and not view each other as equals. Even today, if you ask the average non-Quebec Canadian, they'll show a sort of disdain for the Quebecois. They feel that Quebec doesn't like the rest of Canada (which isn't a too bad assumption since the province tried to separate away twice in the last 30 years), so they in response don't like those whinny Quebecers/French Canadians. Quebecois, especially those who know little or no English, feel that Canada does not have Quebec's best interest and that they just make fun of her French-speaking population. Consequently these Quebecers respond by hating all things non-Quebecois.

This pretty much gives the gist of the political/cultural shit that surrounds me.

If you know anything about me, you should be able to guess that I'm actually sandwiched between these two [stupid] groups of people, who's identities simultaneously include and exclude me. I'm a French-speaking Quebecer/Quebecois, although my first language is English and my parents are British descendant. I'm also an English Canadian, however I also live in Quebec and speak French. I feel both equally, and proudly, attached to both facets of these identities.

Other peoples' perspectives see me differently though: On the streets of Toronto, I'm known as the Frenchie. I once had a business meeting with some salesmen and they actually starting mocking the way I use certain French-style words when speaking English, for example metro instead of subway. Uh, jackasses - and you wonder why I don't like Toronto? (kidding!)
If hanging out with a bunch of French-speaking friends, I'm know as the Anglo (Anglo=anglophone=the name for people who speak English). One of the first times I met a current friend, she asked why I didn't just speak French all the time instead of speaking English. This was followed by the remark that we both live in Quebec province so I shouldn't be speaking English.

As you can sort of guess, the stereotypical viewpoints are just rehashes of the historical Us vs. Them that seems stuck in Quebec and Canada. Unfortunately, Quebec's politicians and advocacy groups have felt it necessary to entrench this disdain for the Others in everyday life. Sometimes it's subtle and other times it isn't. One example is that Quebec license plate used to say La Belle Province - The Beautiful Province, but was changed in 1978 to say Je me souviens - I remember. Although not officially stated, the multiple meaning of je me souviens fall in the realm of I remember myself, I remember my identity, I remember what I/we suffered , I remember my glory. Every car has it's own little nationalistic Quebec message.

Don't get me wrong - I am very proud of my identity. I've come to appreciate my unique vantage point, as the Anglo-Quebecois/Canadian. If anything, I benefit from growing up immersed in two languages and cultures, which help me grasp this mass difference across the world. Although I repeatedly hear these two general remarks, from both, whilst never falling for them:
Non-Quebec Canadians: We hate you Frenchies, because you hate us!
Quebecois: On hait le Canada, parce que vous nous détestent! - We hate Canada because they hate us!
My response to these types of situations are of course:
Me: You're all a bunch of morons.

I've been Missing

2009-07-26T01:40:00.007-04:00

My growing anger, which doesn't seem to dissipate on its own like it used to, fuels and churns itself to grow larger and larger. Although it doesn't think for me, the feelings target the memories of those to whom I am closest.

Just when I think I'm at the tipping point - when my thoughts weigh myself against those people and their actions, do my friends pull through.

It happens every time.

I'm not sure if it's just their personalities or if I'm just crazy, in some way or another, but this has become a consistency over the last 2 months.

They are my friends. This rage is...something to which I don't yet completely understand the origin.

And no, this should not make any sense to you.

Sorry, I realize reading these posts are frustrating since they don't mean much to you as a reader.

Identity - Part 1

2009-07-09T23:10:00.012-04:00

This is gonna be a 2 part post, so pull up pants (or take them off!) and put your reading glasses on. I've meant to write about this for a while, but just haven't felt like getting all the feeling down.

The past 2 weeks had two significant dates for my part of the world (not counting my birthday!): St-Jean and Canada Day.

Celebrated on June 24th, St-Jean is Quebec's big provincial holiday, where everything is mandatory closed and everyone (regardless of age) is found partying. The day is named for the patron saint of Quebec & French Canadians. No, I have no idea how someone can become a patron saint of a region or entire people...

6 days after Quebec's big holiday, on July 1st, is Canada. As you should be able to guess, it's Canada's big holiday that celebrates our breaking away from Britain to become our own independent country. People celebrate this holiday all across Canada, albeit a lot less in Quebec since a week before was St-Jean.

These two holidays rubbing up against another has always had a more personalized significance to me due to my political, cultural, provincial and national identity.

A quick review of Canada & Quebec history shows us that most of people in Quebec have not gotten along with the majority of people in Canada. Up towards the 1960s, the French-speaking majority of Quebec experienced heavy amounts of prejudice and were regarded as somewhat of a 2nd, lower class. Since the British and French showdown in the mid 18th century, that kicked France out of North America, the British & its English Canadian descendants always regarded French Canadians as people to be pushed out of jobs & higher employment, to be assimilated or just ignored. If visiting Montreal at the beginning of the 1960s, you wouldn't even realize that Quebec had ~5 million French speakers and only 400 000 English speakers, since French would never be heard in the downtown stores, business, hospitals, universities...

Fast-forwarding the 1960s to today, an influx of French Quebecers that championed the English language then overthrew the prejudice system from the inside to equalize and even raise French above English. Two new pro-Quebec separating from Canada parties would come into existence and rally their Quebecois French-speaking compatriots behind the banner of Quebec breaking away from Canada to become their own independent country.

A side effect of the newly-emerging, and justified, pro-French and pro-Quebec was the rise of anti-English and anti-Canada. The message of linguistic and cultural equality or independence became muddled with hate for English-speakers and English Canada (a.k.a. most of the rest of Canada). Necessary laws meant to protect the endangered French language in Quebec, such as Bill 101, would become over extended: hence was born the language police. Nope, they aren't nifty, swat gear-clad soldiers that beat people down if they speak poorly...although that would be pretty awesome (and horrible) to see. The extremist Front du Libération du Quebec (Quebec Liberation Front) would briefly appear in the late 60s and 70s, a violent separatist group responsible for robberies, riots, as well as the bombings of English-related institutions (Montreal stock exchange, English schools) and homes in predominantly English neighborhoods. The group's acts would culminate with the kidnap and execution of Quebec's Minister of Labor and a member of the British diplomat.

Two provincial referendums would also be held, asking the population the question of should Quebec separate from Canada. The first vote in 1980 showed a significant win for the No-to-separation vote. The second vote, when I was 9 years old in 1995, had us (and everyone else in the province) sitting around the TV waiting for the results. The No side barely won over the Yes-to-separation, by a 50.1% to 49.9% vote.

The last 40 years in the rise of French and Quebec has not gone without reaction by the other provinces of Canada. The anti-English and anti-Canadianism has been answered with anti-Quebecism and anti-French. A strong feeling has been that Quebec should just shut the fuck up and stop whining to be coddled for special status, which isn't a very wrong reality. Within Canada, Quebec is treated better and more equal than the others, to the point of an unfair advantage in spending resources and representation.

With a better idea of the history, my identity is quite a complicated one. These two big holidays celebrating Quebec and Canada do have an awkward stance against one-another Personally, it's very easy for me to feel sandwiched between two cultures, as part of both but belonging to neither according to the other members. Unfortunately, you will need to wait for the second post before I fill in this part.

WoW

2009-07-02T00:44:00.003-04:00

Some people get presents for their birthday and others give out presents on their birthday. Here's my cheap present to you all:

I'm not sure if it's real, but I find it all so hilarious. The best parts are:

- screaming like a pterodactyl
- headbutting the bed
- shaking as if he's possessed
- his sudden wardrobe change
- trying to shove the controller in his ass

Enjoy.

Thoughts on my Birthday

2009-07-02T00:20:00.004-04:00

My relationship to birthdays has always been an awkward and unusual one.

I love going out to make a big event out of someone's birthday, but when it comes to my own I am the exact opposite. Outwardly, I don't like to make a big thing of my birthday, but secretly I do.

There's never an urge to plan anything; no "Hey let's all go get shit faced to celebrate!". It actually has a lot to do with guilt and self-confidence: I don't like to tell people that it's my birthday because I don't want them to feel obliged to come out for it. I want them to call me up and say "let;s go drinking" from their own choice. On the other hand, I never feel obliged to go out and have a bash for someone's birthday, even if it's a big arranged celebration. It's hypocritical, and I know it, but I just don't want people to feel forced to show up. Along the same line of thinking, if the evening doesn't end up being lots of fun, I don't want to feel guilty for "forcing" them to have been present. I'm weird like that.

My process of thinking only harms myself - I know that. Typically, by the late hours of my birthday, I tend to feel down on myself. Common thoughts of "Man, this sucks...I didn't do anything for my birthday" float around my mind. As I replay those thoughts over and over again in my mind, they get twisted to "My friends don't care about me" or "I'm not worth it". It's actually really pathetic.

Yesterday's birthday was no different - I was at home all day and felt down on myself. I ended up really unhappy by midnight and kind of felt like crying, although I didn't. (You don't realize how much of a loser it feels to even admit that). I ended up

The feeling only lasts for that day. By the next morning I'm amped up to go out and have fun with friends. Today, on Canada Day (there'll be another post about this), I hung out with Liz, Mike and others. We celebrated my birthday, with inferior generic-cake, to which I was embarrassed but inwardly very happy. Uh, I'm so weird.

Birthdays

2009-07-01T23:33:00.000-04:00

My family has one tradition that is extremely important, even sacred, to us: the birthday cake.

For every person's birthday, we need to serve the Jamocha Almond Fudge Ice Cream birthday cake, made by the local Baskin Robbins ice cream store. It has always been so, since my oldest brother was born, and as long as those types of cakes are available we will be eating that. We've never intentionally chosen to eat or serve any other type of cake.

People who are aware of our tradition have asked why does it need to be that cake? Clearly none of us need to answer them because they've never eaten the Jamocha Almond Fudge Ice Cream cake. You probably haven't either. Just understand: it is amazing.

A few years ago, the ice cream shops was out of cakes; so were the other stores on the island of Montreal. My middle brother understood that it wasn't any of our faults that we didn't get him the right cake, but we still didn't feel like it was the right type of birthday. As soon as the store had some new cakes in stock, we bought one, invited the whole family together and then re-celebrated his birthday anew.

We like to joke that we're the only reason that the ice cream store, Baskin Robbins, is still in business.

This is a very lose way of saying that it's a family members birthday:

Happy Birthday Thomas!

Tallness

2009-06-24T23:29:00.002-04:00

Going to Chinatown for dragon beard candy is perfect for making me feel extremely & awkwardly tall.

Crushing

2009-06-19T15:55:00.000-04:00

I've never been the type to crush over my male friends. In my mind, there's always been an invisible separation of my straight male friends from guys in general (whether straight or gay) that I find attractive. I've even asked some of my female friends why so many women find some of my friends attractive, because I just didn't really understand why people thought they were hot. Don't take that the wrong way: no, I don't think I don't consider myself a model compared to their raggedy-ass selves. My brain just doesn't consider my guy friends in terms of hot or not.

The funny thing, though, is that over the 2 day period of our camping trip, I really started to understand why Kieran's girlfriend finds him so attractive. His pro-active attitude, his handyman demeanor, his joking mind and yes, his nicely muscled body. Who couldn't like short blond hair, stubble of a short blond beard and light blue eyes? When we were lying next to each other in the tent, the thought did cross my mind that I'd love to just throw my arms over him, snuggle up and make-out.

Kieran

Oh Kieran, you're so bad at taking photos

Nothing other than a strong friendship will ever occur between Kieran and I. I know that and I am very happy with this. I thought it was just a funny, and odd moment for me to actually be crushing on a close friend of mine.

PS-1: Thank god I'm not some gay guy with delusions of converting his very straight friends

PS-2: Oh god, I'm actually blushing from admitting to myself that I felt attracted to him during our trip! Bah, it's not my fault. He was shirtless most of the time anyway!

Weeeeee!

2009-06-18T22:10:00.000-04:00

Let's add some happy music to preface by below post.

Cut Off Your Hands - Happy As Can Be

Couldn't Have Asked For More

2009-06-18T21:59:00.013-04:00

Camping with Kieran was the best choice I could have made.

Turns out the place we had found last year wasn't nearly as good as this place. 5 hours from Montreal, lost on some backwater dirt roads, untouched by electrical line, running water, we found a a perfect little piece of natural heaven. God, I love the Canadian Shield.

And to think, had we chosen to not ignore the Pont Barré: Danger! (Bridge Closed: Danger!) sign warning that the wooden bridge was highly unstable, we would have never found the place!

There were giant, gaping holes at each corner of the bridge.
Someone had tried to make their own wood & nail repairs too.

There was a perfect space for our tent and fire. Just beyond the threshold of plants was the wonderful river, with giant polished rocks, fed by a mini-waterfall and double set of rapids. We even had a natural sand beach and cliff overlooking the area.

Looking out at the upper rapids

Our first thing was to throw on our life jackets, jump into the river current and ride down some small rapids. If you lie back, with the tips of your feet sticking out of the water (use those abs!) you slide straight over the rocks...well usually. My ass bounced off one and is still a bit sore.

View from the cliff

The whole two days were spent eating hotdogs on the fire, exploring our land, reading and hanging out. I'm pretty sure Kieran thought the no-stress getaway was a success.

We decided to leave a little marker to show that we had been there: we made a [very crappy] Inukshuk. I realize that the region has no relation to this Inuit cultural creation, and that ours is a white man's poor attempt at making one, but I still love it. It's named Sammy; Sammy the Inukshuk.

You probably need to click on the picture to really see it...

I'm now sun burnt, a little chewed up from bugs bites, but very happy. My feet also didn't hurt one bit while I was there.

This place is going to be a wonderful little secret for our group of friends.

A Camping We Will Go

2009-06-15T22:23:00.010-04:00

And camping it is!

Let's all assume that because Justin commented on my previous post, absolving me of the potential guilt of not letting my feet rest at home, this little camping adventure is justified. Thank you Mr. Guy From Chicago!

Kieran has told me that the theme of the next 2 days will be no stress. It shouldn't be too tough, since it's only us two. For some reason, no one else has a job that's as flexible with getting time off as us...suckers.

Kieran's university undergraduate convocation passed (that means he graduated!), so one would think that he'd have nothing much to stress over. Of course that is a mistake, because his severely depressed-closeted-wacko Dad decided not to attend the ceremony or even recognize Kieran for the last few months. Unfortunately timed uprisings of crazy have also stricken other close friends/family members/girlfriend of his, so he just wants to get away for two night.

I'll make sure that Kieran has no choice but to relax. If not, it'll be another axe to his head.

...I'm only somewhat joking about the ax part.

Snapped

2009-06-11T21:28:00.005-04:00

The last few days have not seen my mind in a positive head space. My days were spent focusing on work or brimming with anger and frustrations at the lack of feet-healing progress. You can probably imagine that the rage has taken precedent over concentrating at the job. Luckily for me though, co-workers and customers seem to be really entertained by my bitter, sarcastic comments.

Yesterday was the last day I was going to stand for it though. I could not go another day of sitting on my ass, brooding and doing nothing.

So I got on my bike and peddled. Hard. I just wanted to punish my feet, and get this anger out of me.

I had forgotten that all this non-exercise has turns my calves and thighs to weak jelly. The Me of last-summer could have biked for 2 hours, without getting much of a sweat. The Me of today could last 15 minutes before the knees were sore.

I eventually got back home, lied down, and awaited what I assumed would be my well-deserved reward of pain in my feet. It eventually throbbed its way in, but you know what? It wasn't that bad.

Come this morning, my feet are a little more tender, but it just isn't that bad. Even though my family doctor have given me a run-around on why this pain exists (i.e. he have no clue what's the problem), this gives me some hope that I'm slowly getting better.

Upon hearing this news, Kieran has invited me camping next week.

So a choice must be made next week: I should stay home, relax and keep taking it easy, BUT I want to go camping.

We've been to the spot before...and it's amazing.

Brazilians and Barbara

2009-06-09T00:24:00.006-04:00

Friend's friend: Oh god, I love Misstress Barbara! There's no chance of me missing the next time she's at Piknik Électronik !

Me: I'm sorry to be a hater, here, but I saw her two years ago at a club and she was absolutely awful. I don't get why people say she's so amazing.

Misstress Barbara - I'm Running

Since that conversation on Friday (I actually briefly left my house! And my feet regretted it the next 2 days!), I decided to check up on that Misstress Barbara. It seems that she has pleasantly surprised me. Her new track (above) is pretty good. I'm actually excited to ~~buy~~ download her new album.

The only reason I did go to that Misstress Barbara performance, 2 years ago, was because of this really cool lesbian, Brazilian, exchange student whom Alicia and I met at our university. She told us it would be the greatest night of our lives. Although the music disappointed, just seeing this friend was entertainment enough. Brazilian stereotypes do stand true. They're hot in every possible manner: their looks, their style, their moves and their words.

As I recall, my Brazilian friend put her hands up in the air and used them like human antennas, to find the perfect place in the room where the sound from every speaker was just right. My ears are shot, but apparently she could feel the difference enough to locate the club's sweet spot, before busting out her moves.

Man, Brazilians actually have 3 parents: a Mom, a Dad, and Music. I takes all 3 to nurture one of those super babies.

I've wondered about whatever happened to her. She obviously went back to Brazil, but I'd be surprised if she isn't gallivanting across the world right now. Nothing could stop that wild one. She was always encouraging me to follow her lead and to hook up with lots of strangers. According to her, I wasn't living life and going wild enough for her! I prefer to think that I live it up, even if I don't look to physically throw myself at anyone...although it's been known to happen.

Of course, she only ever told me this after she finally accepted I was gay and gave up on thinking that Alicia and I were actually dating.

Quick Add

2009-06-07T18:58:00.003-04:00

And just to add to my previous post: if any potential new friends look like this, then perfect. Just perfect.

Things A Changing

2009-06-07T18:11:00.007-04:00

I've put off writing about this, because it's hard to really express it in any sort of concrete way. Because of the foot/feet injury, I've been progressively thinking about it more and more, so the right words are only really coming to me now. To put it simply: my friends, and I, are changing.

For the last 6 months, my circle of friends and relationships have been shifting. This change in paradigm isn't so much due to me, per se, but due to everyone who makes up my network of friends. Each person plays their own little part in this.

This sort of situation comes as no surprise to anyone older than myself. For those older folks (old being a relative word to my age of 23), they can look back and hopefully see that their personalities have changed from when they were in high school, to university/college, to fresh into the workforce and on. It's funny to think that at a given, immediate moment, you never really imagine that you will be different in 2 or 3 years: your preferences, your hopes and your interests. But that's just how living is. As you change, so do the things you do. Things you once had in common with others disappear, and it slowly (or maybe quickly) becomes obvious that you don't want to see those previous friends anymore.

So it comes down to my friends changing. Some brief examples would be that Tim and Xav have equally become indifferent to seeing Mike. Xav has actually openly said he finds most of our mutual friends to be very boring. Tim, in his part, has said that I'm probably one of his closest friends right now (which oddly enough unsettles me).

My worries start to kick in at this point in the thought process: and then there's me changing. I've noticed the number of people I would call-up to hang out one-on-one, without any second thought, is shrinking. Some people just don't interest me anymore; the lines of our lives are diverging. As Xav said, the love of some peoples' lives now disinterest me. I have many acquaintances, that I thoroughly enjoy seeing and having fun with, but I don't consider them good friends. To put it a different way: I have many Group Friends but fewer One-on-One friends.

To rectify this developing problem, I need to add some new connections in my network of friends. I don't need to strengthen some old/weak connections, but form new ones altogether. I need to meet new people, that don't already know my friends; fresh blood, if you will.

Over the next year, there may well be a change in my current good friends. Tim, you're great, but sitting around your uncomfortable apartment is boring. Kieran, you're awesome, but you need to actually go out at night some times. Xav, I always have the most original and fun times with you, but you need to try and be social with my friends. Alicia: leave Australia. Liz: stay the way you are. Mike: I still consider you a friend, but you are essentially just an acquaintance now.

This summer will hopefully see me trying new stuff and hopefully meeting new people.

Chuckle

2009-06-06T15:57:00.003-04:00

Xav: I always know that you're about to tell me about one of your "I'm a bastard because..." stories or statements, since they always begin with a low laugh or chuckle to yourself. Those are always the best stories/statements too.

It's so damn true.

Wonderful Generic Memories

2009-06-05T01:33:00.004-04:00

Hey, who is this?, Mom says as she points at a person's picture, that's part of one of those multi-photo picture frames we have in my family's house.

Hmmm, I don't really know.... is my replay. I briefly glance at the picture, as I walk past her and it. If I stopped next to her, she would notice I'm trying to mask a suspicious smile.

I thought you're the one who put all those pictures in the frame, I add from the other room.

Wait a second, who are any of the people in these frames!?, she yells out.

I try to hide my snickering, but obviously she can hear me.

Thomas, what have you done!? She has a big smile.

I look over to her, with a big smirk.

Well, about 6 months ago I noticed one of the slots in the frame was missing a photo, so I found some generic picture of a happy family and inserted it into the slot. A week or two after that, no one noticed the complete strangers in the frame. Soon after that, I decided to then take out all our family photos and replace them with generic pictures I found in magazines.

Laughing, I walk over to my desk, open up a drawer and pull out a small stack of pictures.

Hahaha, are you serious!?, she picks up the stack of photos. Wait, these couldn't have all gone in that one frame!

My smile grows. Yup, look at the other ones in the hall.

That is when my Mom noticed she had been walking through the same hallway, everyday for 5 months, without realizing all the family picture frames were filled with photos of generic actors having generically enjoyable moments with their generic families.

Dutch Rutter

2009-06-02T00:04:00.001-04:00

Let's all learn about the Dutch Rutter!:

Zack & Miri Make a Porno is a very underrated movie.

Great, What Now...

2009-05-27T23:23:00.006-04:00

Sorry all, but I'm warning right now that this is going to being a whinny post.
,
So after a weekend of me going out, doing nothing strenuous to body other than standing walking and sitting, my feet are in pain. A lot of pain.

I can't stand for more than 5 minutes before my feet feel burning, stabbing and hurt in general. Even if I sit down or put them up to rest, I can still feel a dull pain.

I'm frankly hitting the end of being able to stand all this injury bullshit. I understand that my 1 leg/foot was hurt from my [incredibly stupid] jump, as posted here. I get that it took about 1.5 months of crutching around for me to be able to slowly walk around normally. Now, why the fuck are both my feet hurting and why is it so bad that I can't even spend 10 minutes chopping/cooking up some meal without my feet really hurting me. All I'm feeling right now is anger and frustration because my body is weaker than a 3 year old's.

An appointment with my family doctor has been set for about 1.5 weeks from now. I'm no medical professional (I wait, I sort of am!) but my best guess is that the arches in my feet have some how miraculously exploded. I've never had arch problems before. One foot (the injured one) was actually resting/healing for the last 1.5 months while the other one was taking all my weight and constantly feeling perfect. It makes no fucking sense!

For now, all I can do is sit and lie down and do nothing...which for me is the worst fate possible. I can't go biking or walking around. I can't get back into yoga. I can't lift weight (since holding the dumbbell puts weight on my feet). I can't see friends, unless they come to me. I can't continue planning my hiking trip in the Adirondacks. All I can do is work, watch tv, eat and ruminate about how I hate my feet.

Anger isn't helpful to me - Okay, scratch that, anger can be EXTREMELY helpful to me, but only if I have an outlet. Problem is that I specifically can't do anything, it just stays in me, so I feel depressed and sad.

This sucks; I feel like it's going to be My Summer Of My Discontent. Even writing this post pisses me off.

Round 2

2009-05-24T16:04:00.006-04:00

Revenge of the ugly pink shirt.

I look awesome. It's all in the bow tie - Tim recognizes that.

I get the impression that if I were to look at the shirt pattern long enough, an image would pop out, just like pictures from those Magic Eye books. Using my illustration skills, this very well could be the picture hidden on my shirt:

It's a cat!

Of course, one might be surprised by this instead:

...Maybe I should patent the Magic Eye shirt?

New Friends?

2009-05-24T03:30:00.002-04:00

New Lesbian Friend: Next time I go out with my girls, you should come. We'll help to introduce you to some nice guys.

Oh shit that's cool, if it happens...but wait, should I let her know that every lesbian I've known immediately ends up hating me...
...No, I shouldn't. She's cool maybe it won't turn out like all the others....
...Quick, smile. She's waiting for a response! Look polite and excited by the idea....don't scare her away...quick Thomas, respond!

Me: I'd love that. Just to warn you though, I'm like the most awkward person ever though...like, it's impressive. Everyone thinks I'm either awkward or hitting on them - I'm just that amazing,

Nice Thomas, nice and smooth...good ol' foot in the door.

My Friends Can Have My Stuff

2009-05-21T22:39:00.004-04:00

Humming a tune to myself, while just walking along. Just enjoying the sunshine and being outside, meandering up and down the streets.

I'll cross the street, but won't get to the other side. My head manages to turn just in time to see the car that's going to hit me.

The driver tries to brake, but the car had too much speed. The bumper nails my knees perfectly, sling-shooting my torso and head straight downward into the windshield.

And that is that; the end.

Ya, that might be how it all ends for me. It doesn't bother me at all. The whole situation just seems right. For the longest time, I've just had this feeling that I'm going to die young. Young being a relative word, the age 31 comes specifically to mind.

I have no idea when this thought came to me, nor the specific number 31. I don't have a death wish. I'm also not suicidal. I'm just....sure, for the lack of a better word, that I'll die due to some circumstance outside of my immediate control.

The car scenario seems like a likely cause, but I don't know how my final scene will unfold. For all I know I'll get jumped on the street, during a walk home from a bar. Maybe it'll be a baseball bat to the face that cuts me out. Or maybe I'll just be some clumsy fool who'll trip down some stairs and land the wrong way.

A friend of mine tells me she's amazed she has lived to the age of 24. When she was 18, she was sure she's be dead by now. Her young life has been a testament to living by the code of drugs, sex and rock&roll. Maybe I subconsciously stole the notion form her.... who knows.

What I do know is that I'm okay with it. Why worry about the end if I can't immediately avoid it.

"You're a Sick Fuck!"

2009-05-20T11:40:00.005-04:00

Mike: blah blah blah.

Mike's Girlfriend: blah-blah, blah-blah.

Tim: Uh-huh, Blah. Blah-blah.

Being temporarily bored, I decided to just say the most random shit:

Me: OH YA? WELL IT'S WORSE THAN WHEN [Mike's Girlfriend's Mom] JUST START FISTING HERSELF IN THE PUSSY, SCREAMING OUT AND THEN [Mike's Girlfriend's Dad] RIPS OFF HIS CLOTHES, TAKES THE DOG AND STARTS FUCKING IT IN THE ASS WHILE RUBBING IT ON [Mike's Girlfriend's Mom] ASS, AND THEN [Mike's Girlfriend's Brother] STARTS LICKING ON SUCKING ON HIS MOM'S TITS, WHILE REACHING AROUND TO FINGER HIS DAD!?

Everyone just looks at me shocked: wide-eyed with mouths hanging open for 3 seconds. Then Tim bursts out laughing.

Hehehe. Man, I'm one sick fuck.

Some People are Dumb

2009-05-20T11:29:00.004-04:00

Taxi Driver: What concert did you just come from?

Me: It's a group called Animal Collective.

Taxi Driver: Are they from around here?

Me: Naw, they're from the US...they're a electronic type of group...

Taxi Driver: I BET IT'S LIKE ALL MODERN MUSIC KIDS LIKE THESE DAYS. THEY JUST KEEP SAYING FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT! HAHAHAHAHAHA

Me: uuuhhh...

Taxi Driver: AHAHAHAHAAH, FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT

Me: uh..hehe...hehe...

Taxi Driver: THEN THEY GO BACK TO THEIR SCHOOLS WITH GUNS AND SHOOT PEOPLE. HAHAHAHA

Me:!!!

Taxi Driver: SOON TEACHERS WILL BE TEACHING BY PROJECTING THEIR IMAGE ONTO A VIDEO SCREENS, AND THE STUDENTS WILL STILL PROBABLY BRING GUNS TO SCHOOL AND SHOOT THE SCREENS.

Me:........

Taxi Driver: Ya know why kids are like that these days? Parents are too lenient with them. They need to smack their kids around to teach them a lesson.

Me: ..... Yaaa.....

A Night Out

2009-05-20T11:07:00.006-04:00

The Animal Collective went was darn good. Not amazing, but good. Half way through the concert, they apologized for the intense feedback that their speakers were making, which explained why a lot of their music didn't really sound like any of their songs... But that's not exactly unexpected for a band that relies heavily on synthesizers/electronic instruments.

A part from the music, Mike, Mike's Girlfriend and myself were very entertained by the other concert goers. Maybe I'm stereotyping, but I always assumed the band members were high on mushroom when writing/playing their songs. Maybe that's right and maybe that's wrong, but that stereotype DEFINITELY extends to people who like their music. This one guy, in front of us, was freaking out the whole time: shooting his hands in every direction, dancing between songs, grabbing and screaming nonsense at this one person who might have been a friend or just a really tolerant stranger. Mike's girlfriend decided to continuously poke him when he wasn't looking, throughout the concert. I think it actually started to make him paranoid...which I think is awesome!

On my own part, my eyes kept following this blond haired, hipster guy, with lots of earrings. He was surprisingly taller than me and was getting his groove for the whole show. Man, did I want to make out with him! Was he into guys? Who knows! He was hot though...

My foot lasted up the night alright. It started hurting for about 2 hours but then the pain subsided mid-through the concert. There was no chance of me sitting down for the concert, so I was putting all my weight on the good leg. I downed a few beers, so that's probably why the pain disappeared, which let me bust out my dance moves. The next morning my foot wasn't tender though, so it means my injury is at least healing itself slowly.

Hurray for my declining cabin fever.

My foot will [hopefully soon] be able to do it

2009-05-13T11:42:00.004-04:00

Xav: There is talk of silo action tomorrow, for sunset.

Me: Oh man, I reeeaalllllllyyy want to go BUT I CAN'T BECAUSE OF MY STUPID FUCKING FOOT, AKJRHKAJRMAKRNMNAR.

Xav: Woah there yojimbo. Someone with a fucked up foot shouldn't be climbing so many stairs.

Me: Ya.....

Great. So I had to skip out on the first abandoned building adventure of this summer. The silo would have been the below picture.

Come on Foot!
You can do it!
Come on Foot!
There's nothing to it!

(Anyone get that Arcade Fire - Laika song reference? No? Ya, I've been sitting on my own for too long...)

Arcade Fire - Laika
As always, I don't care about the video image. It's the song that's important.

Recovery UnProgress

2009-05-11T23:34:00.003-04:00

FUCK YOU FOOT.

GET FUCKING BETTER.

STOP HURTING MORE, TO THE POINT WHERE I CAN'T WALK WITHOUT CRUTCHES AGAIN.

NO, I DON'T WANT A SHOOTING PAIN INTO MY KNEE.

IF YOU DON'T GET BETTER SOON, I'M GONNA BE PISSED.

I WANT TO HAVE FUN AT THE ANIMAL COLLECTIVE CONCERT FRIDAY, WITHOUT HAVING TO STAY SEATED... YOU BITCH.

Savage Love

2009-05-10T20:13:00.004-04:00

About a year ago, Alicia sent me a link to one of her favorite internet columnists: Dan Savage from Savage Love. This person has been writing a not-so-vanilla sex & relationship column for about 10 years. Although now a growing public figure (he does appear on CNN from time to time when they talk about gay or anti-gay issues), he initially became popular for his hilarious and asshole replies that he would sometimes give out to people who asked for his advice.

Since Alicia introduced me to the site, I've do check back on it from time to time and I always find it super entertaining and interesting to read.

I've decided to link you all to my favorite article from his column archives:
http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/SavageLove?oid=532280
It's about gay teenagers and coping with being gay/hiding you're gay. I don't love this article for the humor or odd situations, like other weeks' entries, but more for its sadness.
If you've read my blog since the beginning, or if you feel like reading it from the start right now (DO IT!) you should know that I have an odd fascination and attraction to sorrowful, trouble and distressing things. I'm pretty sure it relates back to most of my feelings from my teenage life; I just feel like I can relate well to those emotions. I'm not a sad person today, but that doesn't mean that I don't understand. This is also probably why I love to route for the underdog.

Well, the article I've linked is a prime example of people who've been pushed into an ocean on their own, and need to fight against the giant crashing waves without a real hope for someone to save them - at least, not for a while. Dan Savage's replies are definitely good for the situations, but it shows sometimes you just need to bottle up all your feelings inside of you and just run full steam on the rage, anger and hate that comes from inside of you (and from outside of yourself too). That rage, anger and hate might just be the one things that keep you alive and going.

Don't worry, this post isn't all doom and gloom though. The article I linked to also has a nice little ending. The last entry, Savage includes in that week's article, just shows that not everyone has to go through such bad things.

I hope you all learn to love the Savage Love column.

Bring It All Together

2009-05-10T02:25:00.001-04:00

As of late, I'm been feeling like Mike and I have been drifting further and further apart as friends. By coincidence, tonight led us to hangout, amongst a groups of friends, without "the usual chaperons of Tim and Xav".

We had the chance to speak about ourselves, call each-other out on minor misgivings and then chat about the going-ons about our greater-groups: urgh, we both disapprove of Keiran and Tim moving in with their respective girlfriends, after it being very clear their women have serious problems and that this is only going to end in horror: Tim has been dating his girlfriend (who I admittedly luv) for about 3 months, and now they've moved in together. Keiran has been seeing his girlfriend for about 1 year, assuming you discount the 3 times she broke up with him - which means their on-off relationship has been extending for 2 years. Man, how do I let my friend do this to themselves...

Then we ate delicious, delicious poutine.

I feel like everything is a little better between us.

Looking Back

2009-05-10T02:10:00.003-04:00

Mike: "Remember back in highschool, when you passed my chemistry exam for me?"

Me: "Haha, Oh ya..."

Mike decided that this was a good time to recount this story to the group of friends:

So [Friend] and I are sitting in a classroom on our own, trying to do the make-up exam to pass the chemistry course. We're both really bad in Grade 11 chemistry (Quebec students graduate from highschool at Grade 11) and we had no idea what to write on the exam we were given.

Thomas then walks into the classroom. He knows we're doing our final tests and there isn't any teacher supervision so he essentially decides to do the test for us. (Chemistry and highschool in general for me were really easy). So he starts listing off the answers in sentences, for us to copy down as he says them.

Our teacher, Mrs. [Teacher], then walks in and sees us two and Thomas. She looks over at him and asks if he's helping us on our tests - Thomas looks over at her confused and says that he wouldn't help us cheat. He then walks over to some containers of magnesium strips and tells her he was just playing around with he chemistry supplies, since it was the last day of classes.... Maybe she bought the excuse or maybe she could have just given less of a fuck (she was pretty awesome that way) but she walks out to another class.
While trying to light magnesium stripes on fire (Ow, my retinas!) Thomas then goes back to dictating the answers to the tests' questions. Because of Thomas, [Friend] and I both managed to pass chemistry.

My reply:

Me: "Hehehe, I'm awesome!"

Boners

2009-05-04T21:51:00.002-04:00

I loves it:

www.awkwardboners.com

The name says it all.

Cute random boner person

"This guy is proud of his boner. I don’t know where this picture was taken - a hotel room, or perhaps some kind of ship’s cabin - but either way, he’s showing it off to anyone who happens to walk past his room. More evidence that Awkward Boners is succeeding in turning the boner from a source of embarrassment into a beacon of pride."

I never got/don't get the awkward boner stuff. My penis just doesn't do that to me - but then again, when I have a hard-on it doesn't shoot up toward, pointing at my head, but instead just kind of points forward, while still hanging downward.

And that was Saturday

2009-05-02T23:57:00.004-04:00

Mike: [Friend]'s ex girlfriend is coming to the bar, with her new boyfriend. [Friend] hates her so every time she walks by we're going to say out-loud how something smells so bad, in hopes that she'll hear us and think it's her.

Mike's Girlfriend: Urgh, it smells like old, unwashed jeans.

Mike: Urgh, it smells like bunch of pennies.

Liz: Urgh, it smells like armpits.

Other Friend: Urgh, it smells like waxing salon's garbage can.

Me: Urgh, it smells like a boat crate of illegal immigrants.

Mike: Urgh, it smells like vagina filled with a guy's splooge.

Liz: Urgh, it smells like child birth.

Mike's Girlfriend: Urgh, it smells like Arab men hitting each other with dead fish.

Mike: Urgh, smells like an orgy.

Friend: Guys, I am so proud of you all.

And it kept going until I almost died from laughter. We are so mature.

I'm so glad I can [relatively] move around again to see friends.

He's Back

2009-05-02T16:40:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was my first day walking around without crutches. My foot and leg are sore - not so much as remnants from the injury but from the atrophy of not using that leg.

Naturally, I hung out with friends all day long and then drank excessively that night. I'm back to my old self!

I had to teach someone this morning in French. The French part isn't so difficult, but I'm not familiar with all the medical language that I needed to use in French. 3 or 4 times I had to take a moment in the meeting to just laugh out loud at how poorly worded I was saying some things.

The participants thoroughly enjoyed it. They may or may not have noticed I was hungover.

Poor Yves

2009-04-30T00:26:00.003-04:00

A few months ago, I blogged about a short conversation between my parents, which put the pieces together what should have been a very clear picture that a pair of family friends were gay. Here's the link for the post.

My Mom went out to have dinner with Gaby, my ex-gardienne and mother of Yves (of the gay couple Yves and Serge). They spoke about how each were doing. My Mom filled Gaby in on how our family's doing. She told us all about her kids. It turns out that Yves and Serge split up a few years ago, Yves pretty much went crazy blaming everyone else for his problems and is now estranged from Gaby. There goes that whole happy, hot gay couple image I had going in my head. Coincidentally 3 days ago I had a weird/great great me me sandwiched between Yves and Serge in bed, having a good make-out/fondle party.

Sorry guys. Not all stories end well.

We should all hope that our own will however end well.

I'd Rather be Outside

2009-04-27T23:50:00.003-04:00

My mind's going through a blogging boycott. I just don't feel like sharing right now. Taking all that time to attempt constructing an idea or an experience just seems too long. In takes so much introspection and internal review to think about one's own situation and then write out in words. Argh, I'm starting to feel like I'm just tired of gauging what I think and feel for an audience. The coming of spring, especially in the last few days, makes me want to be outside and living my life...not sitting around, using crutches and blogging about myself. Fuck thinking about my own circumstance.

Maybe the honeymoon period has ended and maybe this is the point that distinguishes those individuals who are happy to have briefly delved into the blogging world from those hardcore bloggers.

It would also help if I wasn't stealing this shawdy wireless connection from a neighbour, since my router/modem died last Friday.

Oh and yes, I do see the irony of blogging about how blogging disinterests me at this immediate moment.

Don't worry, this doesn't mean I'm quitting or taking a break - or at least taking anymore of a break than I've already been.

My boss is so lucky I've worked for him for so long

2009-04-23T23:54:00.001-04:00

I did my taxes. (My Mom, the chartered tax accountant, did my taxes).

I was pissed yesterday because of the total amount of money I made in 2007.

I'm getting screwed over for what I get payed compared to how much I make.

I like my work, but time for me to up my job search.

Secret Identity Revealed!....Repeatedly and Often!

2009-04-21T22:51:00.003-04:00

I'm amazed by my poor ability to maintain by semi-private identity. Since I tend to write my posts all in one shot, and usually late at night, my proof-reading consists of a quick scan or two before posting and turning off my computer. In my eagerness to finish a post, I've forgotten plenty of times to replace my normal, popular name with my pseudo-name: Thomas (which is also a true name, but just less popular). I've fucked up plenty of times too with the pseudo names of my friends.

Eventually I re-read the post over the next half day (I love to review my posts - I guess I'm narcissistic about my writing) and catch the mistake...probably too late for people to have already seen it. Oh well, I'm not too scared of people tracking me down anyway.

Same thing goes for blocking out the eyes in pictures I post. Quite a few times I post the unedited versions (why do I have to save both versions in the same damn folder!?) and only catch that in a day.

I suck at mild secrecy.

Bisecting Bisexuality

2009-04-20T23:06:00.005-04:00

While perusing a well-liked internet forum today, I came across an interesting topic. The subject of the conversation was bisexuality and the prejudice that people often have for individuals who identify as such. Although I didn't personally find that the contributors had anything new or controversial to say, the thread did get me linking my thoughts, the thoughts of my friends and my personal experiences.

For those who hadn't realized or thought about it, a large proportion of gay and straight people do ridicule individuals who self-identify as bisexual. Often, bisexuals are dropped into either stereotyped category of 1) people afraid to simply say their gay, or 2) women who simply want attention from men. Why do people think that? Well, as said before they're stereotypes: although far from always true, they unfortunately do hold some truth for a lot of individuals. God knows, two female friends of mine used to love making-out for a greasy crowd of Italian clubbers.

Tim and Xav's opinions don't stray from the above viewpoint. They understand a person being attracted to the opposite sex and they get that a person can be attracted to the same sex, but the idea of attraction to two (or more than one gender) just doesn't make sense. If ever Xav's in earshot of someone saying "I heard [Guy's Bi]", he'll yell out:

BULLSHIT, HE'S GAY.

For the idea of a bisexual woman, he'll scream out:

BULLSHIT, SHE JUST WANTS ATTENTION.

I've thus far written out the matter-of-facts about hating on bisexuals, without putting my own thoughts in too much. Although I can't emotionally understand liking guys & girls, I believe that people can feel that way. It's not like I emotionally understand being straight, or that my straight friends emotionally understand being gay, but I recognize that existing so how can I really deny bisexuality. Unfortunately, all too often, I fall into thinking the same above stereotypes and a subtle prejudice against bisexuals.

If presented with a choice of dating 1 of 2 guys, whom are essentially twins in terms of looks and personality, except one is gay and the other's bi, I would choose the gay one. In fact, if they weren't twins at all, I would automatically be hesitant in pursuing the bisexual. Although I'm being prejudice by admitting that, I feel confident in expressing this. At least I aware I'm being unfair and that it's not right. I think the repulsions stems from my own insecurity: if I became involved with someone who's bi, I feel like he'd likely leave me for a woman because society makes it easier for him to follow his attraction to women over men.
(As a side note, I'd say that's why so few guys identify as bi either. People insecure about their sexuality would see themselves as being straight+gay. There's no advantage with being gay, so they'll hide that and that makes them straight and "normal").

It's kind of weird that I'm spewing all this out as theory, because I've known 2 bi guys and been involved with one of them.

The first one I had a love-hate friendship with, in my second year of university. In an attempt to get to know him better, since I thought he was really cute, I asked him all about himself and his bisexuality. He told me that it felt completely different, being with a guy or a girl. He said his attraction was equally and constant for both genders, but that when he got to university he pretty much exclusively only hooked up with guys because everyone around him immediately assumed he was gay when he said he was bi. None of the girls would consider him a potential date or hook-up and so he just went along with that. It bothered him that people would actually refer to him as gay. In all honesty, I was definitely one of those people. I considered him purely gay.

In reference to the 2nd bisexual, I actually dated him. If you're a WindsThatYouRise reader from the beginning, you might remember him as Guy from the Abandoned Building (oh no, I said I would never mention him again! Oh well.). We never really spoke much about his sexuality, but it was generally known by all his friends that he was bi. Actually, I'll take that back. As Xav worded it perfectly, it was known by everyone that "[Guy from the Abandoned Building] likes who he likes". There was no real distinction of sexuality - which is interesting, especially because Xav accepted his non-clarification of sexuality where as he would not accept someone self-declaring their bisexuality.

Although in the beginning I never knew whether Guy from the Abandoned Building was gay or not, the situation just cleared itself up on its own. Had I known he was something other than gay, straight from the beginning, I might have avoided him (as I referenced in the middle of this long post). I'm therefore glad I didn't know anything about him in advance.

Sorry guys, I'm losing focus so I can't bring this post to a nice neat conclusion. Um... don't hate on the two-gender lovers?

Cute Crutches

2009-04-18T21:14:00.002-04:00

To go with the theme of crutches, I decided to look for pics of cute guys with crutches.

No, I don't have a crutch fetish.

Crutching

2009-04-18T20:39:00.004-04:00

Liz: Is it wrong that I just want to knock away one of your crutches, to watch you fall helplessly to the ground?

Friend: I know! I want to do the same thing!

-----

Friend: I keep imagining you crutching away on your own and then a guy running at you, knocking you over and stealing your wallet...But the thing is, you're the only type of guy I can imagine knocking over a helpless person on crutches, to steal their wallet.

Me: Haha, thanks. Oddly enough though, my Grandmother's friend has been knocked out of her wheelchair, just outside a hospital, by a guy who then stole her purse. Twice.

Group of Friends: !!!!! Hahahaha, aaaaawwwwwwww!

Me: My Grandmother laughs every time she thinks about that.

-----
Clearly, my friends think very highly of me.

And unrelated to the above: Oh god, walking for 2 hours with crutches (a.k.a. crutching for 2 hours), with lots of breaks, is incredibly tiring on the arms and shoulders. Even crutching non-stop for 4 blocks is the worst. I feel dead. The Yoko Ono & John Lennon museum art exhibit was worth it though.

Gettin' Better

2009-04-16T23:40:00.006-04:00

On a follow-up visit to a doctor, I've gotten the good news that I don't need the [ever so weird] cotton bandage around my foot anymore since the newest X-rays + test show no evidence of a heal bone break. I've been told to try walking on my foot, although it's very obvious that it still needs plenty more time to heal before I will be without my crutches. That's pretty good news.

My foot itself isn't as blue anymore - it's turned a nice healthy green (?), where the massive bruising used to be.

As celebration, Liz came over and forced me to watch the West Side Story movie. I was apprehensive, but it was surprisingly good...even with all the prancing and fighting. Not the image I had for some Cholos, but anyway. I kept ruining the drama of the movie by predicting the main guy character was about to grab the main woman by the face and face-fuck her. Yup, I'm a pervert.

With the good news regarding my foot, Liz wants to bring me out to a bar I've been craving to revisit: they only serve hard alcohol, mixed in into some form of cocktails in large pasta jars. The bar is notoriously packed, so there's plenty of potential for further cripple injuries with my crutches...but of course, what's the fun in going out and drinking a lot if it wouldn't be a stupid idea?

Smingus Dingus Day

2009-04-15T23:21:00.004-04:00

My friend let me know about a wonderful (or horrible, depending on which role you play) day that she's been celebrating most of her life: Smingus Dingus Day.

Early in the morning on Smingus Dingus Day, according to the Polish tradition since my friend is indeed Polish, boys awake the girls they like by pouring a bucket of water on their heads and striking them with tree branches. No, I'm not kidding. Check Wikipedia if you'd like.

A more common, English name, for this holiday is Easter Monday. And so, this past Monday my friend decided to introduce her boyfriend (yup, role reversals since she's a girl) to her Polish heritage by waking him up with ice cold water and beatings. This is her boyfriend moments after being shocked out of his sleep. Maybe he's trying to dry off or maybe he's deciding if a back-hand is an inappropriate response - who knows.

I am making a mental note to add this to the repertoire of holidays/anniversaries/celebrations to which I partake.

Grandma's rocked it since 1930

2009-04-14T23:48:00.005-04:00

I had a talk with my Grandmother today. She's been in Montreal for Easter weekend and is heading back home tomorrow.

We were speaking about what types of places I go out to with friends. After listing off the types of bars/clubs I like, I turned the question back on her and asked what she used to do back when she was my age.

Seems likes her young 1930s life (yup, she's in her mid 90s right now!) was a lot like mine.

Her and her friends would get all dressed up and drive together to a hotel downtown. Back then (at least in her region) bars did not yet exist. Instead, hotels had lounges that offered places for people to relax, socialize and drink alcohol. The men and the women of my Grandma's group would split up, since such establishments' entrances were segregated based on sex. The lounge interiors were also segregated: men and women each had their own exclusive sections, cordoned off by drapes, whilst there was also a 3rd section where the two sexes could socialize together. All of my Grandma's friends would meet up in the mixed section, where they'd sit down, order some drinks and have fun.

What I loved so much about hearing this story was that after 1 or 2 beers, my Grandmother and all her friends would most of the time all start signing together and cause an all-out ruckus (well, 1930s-style ruckus) until they'd get thrown out of the hotel's lounge. They'd then go to find the next hotel and repeat the process.

Hehehe, if there was genetic evidence for the fun I have with friends, bars and alcohol, here it is. Of course, I don't dare to imply I'm as badass as her.

Goodbye Little Girl

2009-04-12T23:38:00.004-04:00

UUUhhhhh... the last few days have been pretty bad. My family had to say goodbye to our cat, although I would be very justified in saying we had to say goodbye to my cat.

I don't expect people to understand how close we were to her. If you've never owned a pet, you shouldn't understand. If you're not a cat person, then maybe you just don't get it either.

The whole thing was heartbreaking. Over a quick period of 1.5 weeks, my cat went from healthy and normal to barely eating and no longer purring. In a span of a night, two days ago, I woke up to a cat who had lost the ability to walk despite her best efforts to come over to me in the morning. A visit with the veterinarian confirmed she had only a few days to live. Her inability to eat just led to her body failing on her. She wasn't hurting. She just didn't have the energy to function.

We cried; and I cried. She was our one-and-only pet and we've had her since I was 5 years old. Time made it clear that her and I were best friends. My love of all things animal-related stems from her. She would hangout and bug me like no other member of our family. The beginning of her day was quick look out the window and then coming to wake me up. Random, wonderful moments in my life were created by her. She was also a comfort to me when times were not so light.

Tears come to me when I think that 2 nights ago was the last time I would lie on my couch, with her cuddled between my arm and torso. Her head would roll and butt into my side, for warmth and shade from the light. One of her paws would be rested over my body, half as a hug and half to make sure I wasn't about to move away. If she still could have at the time, she would have been purring up a storm.

My brothers, who were in town for Easter, all came around yesterday to say their goodbyes. Everyone's eyes were red from grief. When my Mum and I agreed, I lied her onto my lap for one last moment. Had I not needed crutches, I would have taken her up in my arms and walked her around house and out back so that she had the chance to see each spot one last time - each favorite hangout and hiding place of her. We then put her in the carrying cage and brought her to the local vet hospital for her final destination.

I'm lucky because I've never really felt the death of someone extremely close to me, who I've known for years and makes daily or routine differences in my life...until now. Some might see that title as reserved only for human family members and close friends, but she is that to me. Today was my first full day without her and I sure did notice. Moving around the house, I haven't spotted her and I haven't sat down next to her for a few minutes worth of petting and canoodling. Those little moments were some of the strongest potentiators for my positive moods.

And now all these good things, made by one little good thing are done and gone.

Like all things, I will improve, but not just yet.

I'm gonna publish this post now, because I can go on forever and the keyboard's getting a little wet from tears.

Eyes Red

2009-04-11T21:36:00.001-04:00

I'm having a shitty weekend.

By tomorrow, I'll have enough energy to talk about.

What Say You Hospital

2009-04-08T00:37:00.005-04:00

Monday was spent both working and sitting around the local hospital for 7 hours, in order to have my foot checked-out. I had expected to wait forever at the hospital, since potential broken bones are at the bottom of the emergency clinic's priority list and one typically has to wait forever anyways (a downside to the "free" health care I am glad Canadians have). Unlike many of the people there, or at least the people who seemed to be in the similar broken-bone category as me, I was feeling very positive and cheery. That is probably more because broken bones and crutches is not something new for me and my job can easily integrate in a foot injury.

After 2 sets of X-rays and 3 interval-visits with an overworked doctor, the consensus at this time is: you probably have a bad bruise/strain, but might also have a broken heal bone...we're not sure. So DON'T YOU DARE put weight on your foot (I think she thought my positive and carefree attitude meant I wasn't going to follow her instructions, hence why she kindly screamed them at me) and we'll wrap it up and you'll need to be back here in 10 days to see an orthopedic specialist.

Woooo!

But wait? Is there a [fake] question for a reader out there? Oh yes there is...why you.... Ya, you over there...what's the question?

Reader: Oh Thomas, I love you so much. Here's my query: knowing how you are such a camera-whore and take pictures of everything, do you have such a picture of you hurting your foot? I would love to add it to my shrine of you...

Oh, thanks devoted [fake] reader. I love you too...and to answer your question: Yes!

This picture was taken moments before I decided it was a great idea to jump, barefoot, down to the ground. I like to think the amazing part of this photo is not the height but my pointed toes. It's all in the pointed toes. One might even say I look very gay in this photo.

The outcome of my fall is now this:

So with the big Easter extended-family dinner coming this weekend, my little accident will the popular topic of discussion regarding who's been the stupidest lately.

Canadian Movies? Oh God

2009-04-06T23:54:00.007-04:00

Anyone ever seen a Canadian movie?

No? Ya, I didn't think so...

Ok, have any of you ever heard of a Canadian movie?

No you don't count if you actually live in Canada.

Alright, so apart from the movie C.R.A.Z.Y., no you haven't...

Yup, that's the Canadian movie industry for you. It's pretty much poop. If I 'm ever checking out what's on the Movie Network, I know that anything labeled as a Canadian movie is almost always not worth it. I don't know why we can have such a thriving movie and special-effects industry that serves American movie productions, without actually being able to make a good movie ourselves. Anything that gets churned by the Film Board of Canada is almost always a watered-down version of an American movie: an attempt at some sort of exciting, explosive drama/comedy/action movie that is plagued by zero plot, zero acting and zero interest.

This is saying a lot because I am all gun-ho about my Canada.

That being said, there are some exceptions FEW AND FAR BETWEEN.

One good Canadian film though, as I said above, is C.R.A.Z.Y., a Quebec-original movie that got lots of publicity when it came out in 2005. The movie takes place just outside of Montreal and follows the growing up and coming-out of a young (hot!) kid in the 60s and 70s. It pretty much centers around love.
I've said this once before: I tend to dislike most gay/coming-out themed movies because the plots is just dump or it has a really big corny feel to it. C.R.A.Z.Y. has none of that.

If you rent it/download it, make sure the get subtitles since it's filmed in French.

Although this next film doesn't flow as nicely as the one above, it still has a special little place in my heart. Siblings, which came out in 2004, is an awesomely dark comedy about two brothers and two sisters who try their best to deal with their god-awful parents. They joke about killing them, and then one day they take the next step...

Best series of lines ever:

Guy that likes Girl: I've done terrible things...

Girl that likes Guy: I'm sure I've been through worse - let's hear it.

Guy that likes Girl: I killed my father.

Girl that likes Guy: I got expelled from high school for doing crystal meth with the Dean's 14 year old son.

Guy that likes Girl: I crushed my Mom's head in with a crowbar.

Girl that likes Guy: I had sex with the whole basketball team.

Guy that likes Girl: I used to hide outside your bedroom window and jerk-off for months.

Girl that likes Guy: Ya, I know. I liked it.

I would be surprised if any of you could actually rent/buy/download this movie. Canadian movies don't really get big distributors. YouTube seems to have someone who posted up random intervals of the movie, but all together they only add up to about 30 minutes of the film. Meh, whatever, here's clip #1 of that series in case you feel like watching a bunch of clips from the movie, without them making much sense:

He's Back!

2009-04-05T23:43:00.003-04:00

HEHEHEHEHEHEHE

Remember when I wrote a 2-post about my university pool stalker and our "email chats"? If you don't, please feel free to read up Part 1 and Part 2 and recall my stupidity of actually responding to his emails.

Well, I just got another email from Todd!

It doesn't say anything particular:
going through old e-mails
just saying hi

Oh man, this is nutty.

Don't worry, I am definitely not going to reply.

Arrival Home of Parents

2009-04-05T23:29:00.004-04:00

Mom: We'll be back at the house in about 2 hours. How've you been?

Thomas: Hehehe, funny you should ask that...um you'll see when you get here..

Mom: Oh no is the basement flooded!?

Thomas: No no, that's fine...

Mom: There was fire!?

Thomas: God, nothing's wrong with the house, all that's fine! I just sort of broke my foot...

Mom: So the basement isn't flooded!?

Thomas: NO IT'S NOT.

----------

Dad: Okay, let's hear it - how'd you hurt yourself?

Thomas: It's really lame... I just jumped down from this sort of elevated platform, in Mike's new apartment

Dad: Ya ya, I'm sure that's how it was. You were probably drinking and fell off a bar-stool!

Thomas: No no, I just hurt my foot by a complete fluke at his apartment.

Dad: Haha, ya sure....

Here's Some Advice

2009-04-05T03:08:00.003-04:00

So, the next time that your friend (let's theoretically name him Mike) tells you not to screw around in his new apartment/condo, you should probably listen to him.

When he goes out for a smoke, with this theoretical girlfriend, you should not get your friend (let's theoretically name him Tim) to boost you up onto a mysterious 2nd level of the room (imagine the room to a bathroom that has a space of 3 feet between its own roof and the main loft's roof) in hopes of having fun and scaring said theoretical friends when they return from having a smoke. Of course, one should not decide to jump down from such a height, to land awkwardly and potentially break your foot.

By theoretically breaking one's foot, I mean needing crutches to comfortably move around because simply standing on on of your feet hurts a lot.

Ya, I think that's some good advice.

So happened in Austin...

2009-04-03T00:08:00.004-04:00

Time to jump back in the blogging saddle. Although I arrived back from Austin a week ago, I've been just to busy with work/friends/private fun to get back into the blog. Okay, that's a lie..I've just been very lazy. Bad Thomas; bad.

How should I sum up my 1.5 weeks in Austin? Pretty damn fun. SXSW was great. I have a list of 10-15 bands, who's music I need to download. I got to travel around Austin and the region near the city, with Oldest Brother. We did lots of outdoor rock-climbing, along with checking out some great food joints (I now luv TexMex) and cool natural scenery (I'm not used to the whole semi-arid environment so it was fun exploring).

At first we had trouble connecting as siblings or friends, as I described in this post, but the situation really improved over the final 3 or 4 days. Our personalities sort of molded together - or maybe I'm being a bit full of myself and centric but I think his personality pretty much shaped itself to mine - and I really had fun just talking with him and enjoying his company.

I also said in the previous post I was looking to hook-up. Well, mission accomplished too. Nope, I'm not talking about those details.

Now comes the more serious question: did I tell him I was gay?

Welllllllllll........

I tried. I really tried.

It was tough. It came down to the last night I was in Austin (I hadn't wanted to say it before because I didn't think we were becoming friendly enough) and I just couldn't find a good way to broach the subject. I didn't want to just throw the information at him, without giving him a chance to mull it over and ask questions. I didn't want to just say that, and then catch my flight the next morning without further conversation about it all. I suppose it can be said that I waited until too late, but I definitely wouldn't have wanted to tell him during the first week of my visit either.

I've been told by friends and read online that there's never a actual good moment to blurt out "I'm Gay", unless someone directly asks you. I definitely felt that way. I tried to push a conversation about our family and relationships and how we never talk about them, but Oldest Brother quickly just told me that it's awkward and that how are we really suppose to talk about it? With my friends and I, we can talk about any one's boyfriend/girlfriend as much as we want, but I understood Oldest Brother. He would never share the inner thoughts and going-ons between himself and his girlfriend - at least not to any family member.

I suppose some of you might think I chickened out, because I was afraid. Maybe, but I think that would only be a half truth, if even that. My brother and I needed to get close; that took time. There's no way to have rushed that. I just needed a right moment, even if there's never a good moment to say it.

Surprisingly, I'm not disappointed with the outcome. I don't see it as a personal failure, but, again, just not having the right moment.

I'll just have to jump at the next opportunity. We did speak a lot about his future job and Oldest Brother did say he's 90% sure he's moving back to Quebec because he's tired of living in the US and he wants to be closer to his girlfriend. So not too far from now, I might be typing down some more posts of my next attempt at dropping the gay bomb on him.

I suck!

2009-04-01T00:32:00.003-04:00

I'm a terrible blogger.

I got back Friday night and still haven't posted.

I promise I will post tomorrow and reply to emails.

<3

On A Drive Home

2009-03-25T00:55:00.003-04:00

We're driving back to the apartment.

Me: Oh Brewster McCracken, I'd vote for mayor.

Oldest Brother: With a name like that, who wouldn't?

Me: Not even John Mayer. Brewster McCracken for Jon Mayer.

Oldest Brother: Vote for you would be the best Jon Mayer.

We both laugh.

Seems like he's started to understand me.

I have 1 day left.

A Letter I Will Not Send

2009-03-23T00:27:00.002-04:00

I'm trying ****, I really am.

I don't talk just to fill the gaps and silence. I like to entertain myself and others - I do it for fun. Don't just give me single word replies, insinuating you don't care. I know you're capable of playing along in this fantastical world I make up on the spot. I understand that "I think I just saw that man feeding a Pizza Hut pizza to those cats" is not a genuine statement. The man probably just put down the box temporarily, while he dishes whatever can of food out to the cats. I get it. You don't need to say "There's probably a logical explanation that we just don't know about. You shouldn't assume". I'm not a fucking moron. What I said was made up. Your actual answer should have been along the lines "Holy shit, really!? Is he picking up the bread sticks for them too, since they don't have thumbs?" I'm joking around.

You are capable of that. I hear all your Skype conversations with your girlfriend. You two joke all the time about made-up things. It's all just for fun.

I'm not your girlfriend, and I definitely don't want to be, but why can't you just do that with me. Why can't you do that? I've hung out with your friends and acquaintances here. It's pretty much the same with them too. It's all observations and niceties between you and them. What about the nonsense-fun?

Maybe you haven't noticed, but I am making a genuine effort to engage you. I, otherwise, wouldn't have come all the way to Austin. What? Did you think I was just going to be here for the music festival and spend the most time possible trying to avoid you? I'm sure part of you did believe that's what I would do. That expectation of yours wasn't really unfounded either. Back home, I never would say much when you did drop-by. Maybe I'm crazy, but perhaps it's been different right this time around? Maybe I've been acting different? As much as I have loved going on my own adventures to hear all the random bands, I've also really enjoyed hanging out with you. The basketball game was great - neither of us have ever been or really even knew the rules, but it was a fun time. I've also been really keen on these climbing adventures with you and you know that. During our car rides, I speak because I WANT you to speak to me. So maybe it's time for you to drop "playing the good host" and just be relaxed.

Spurs vs Celtics, March 22nd, Row 11

I guarantee it is higher and harder than it looks.

We're all way too much like Dad, or at least that's what I think. You, ******* and me have always been the silent type around one-another, just like Dad is with us. It means we bond slowly, by just being within each other's presence. There's not much talk about feelings and there's never any mentions of relationships.

There's nothing particularly wrong with this, but you need to realize that I am trying to step beyond that. I'm sitting on my bed, facing you, while writing this. Your back is to me, on the other side of the room. We're both listening to Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip - his songs are oddly relevant to us. I'm tired right now, so I'm not going to attempt engaging you, just so that you can reply using generic statements of "Ya, I suppose so" and "Ah, that's interesting." For now, we'll bond in that old way, but know this: you and I don't need to be disconnected.

So for the last 4 days that I'm here, why don't you just give this a try:
For the sake of humouring me why don't you just go along with my tendency to take too many pictures with my camera.
For the sake of humouring me, why don't you not try to pre-plan my day.
For the sake of humouring me, why don't you just talk to me about nothing. Not something, nothing.

You might surprised. Maybe I have something I want to tell you.

Buck 65

2009-03-22T02:14:00.004-04:00

Everything about Buck 65's stage presence makes me want to do him. His rapping skills, his awkward expressions and general geekiness - oh god, so hot.

Buck, please divorce your wife and leave Nova Scotia to live in Montreal.

Pretty please?

What Did I Do to Myself!?

2009-03-22T02:13:00.002-04:00

SXSW First Day Update

2009-03-19T01:03:00.003-04:00

Oh god my legs are sore and I am sunburned. It's great.

I was checking out all the SXSW music venues and bands for 8 hours today. I got really into a couple of acts - too bad they never said their names and I didn't try to plan out which bands to see.

My favorite music venue for music was handing out free beer all afternoon. The only thing that stopped me from going nuts was my promise to meet up with Older Brother after his work. I would have felt bad if I had been incoherent - so I held back and also took an hour to sober-up in a Whole Foods store. Mmmmm, I love potato salad.

Argh, so many hot guys here. Argh, so many not-so-hot people too. I felt like a perv today because I couldn't stop eyeing up this shirtless 18 (?) year old kid. Damn tattoos of his.

The acts and venues have been planed out for tomorrow, so I am ready for a world wind tour of Austin on my brother's bike. Passion Pit,K'Naan, Holy Fuck, Cold War Kids, Cut Off Your Hands, Peter Bjorn & John and others.

I've been trying to figure out how to talk to him on a friendship-level. He seems to bent on being a "good host" right now: showing me around Austin and giving me advice of what to see and where to eat. I've tried joking around about the normal nonsense I say, but he seems to just smile and nod. I suppose he's no used my personality or nonsense-humor style. I'm sure he'll eventually come around.

To Austin

2009-03-16T23:15:00.007-04:00

Bright and early tomorrow morning, I will be on an airplane to glorius Austin, Texas/SXSW/visit oldest brother! I cannot wait for a bit of warmth, maybe even get [an extremely light] tan, enjoy some music and catch up with my nameless family member. I'm a little bummed that I'm spending St. Patrick's day in airports. Traditions has all my friends getting together and going wild. Oh well, I guess the low-cost plane ticket was worth it.

When I told the guys about my trip, Xav yelled out straight away:

Oh man, SXSW? You're gonna get so much ass!

Surprised by that comment, I gave him an odd look with:

You know you're talking about me right? The guy who notoriously unsuccessful at hooking-up or dating anyone?

Looking away in thought, his response was:

Oh ya.

I'm not gonna lie though - the idea is on my mind. Even last's night's dream was relevant. It was me and some kid from Manitoba talking, and all I was thinking in the dream was that he would shut up and we'd fool around. So we did. And then we attacked some people and ate some brains because we were also coincidentally zombies. Did I forget to mention this dream was only mildly relevant to me being horny? OK, maybe ever-so slightly relevant...

I have no idea how this could potentially happen since I've also stereotypes Texas to be pretty unfriendly toward gays. Two guys making out at a concert here? Somewhat normal. Two guys going tongue-to-tongue there? Hey, let's go find a shotgun...

I haven't forgotten about the more important purpose of this trip though. I'm gonna get comfortable talking with Oldest Brother. Try to figure out how to make us reconnect, per se, and I am going to tell him I'm gay.

Honestly, I haven't really thought about how the situation will work out, but I just feel really confident. If you're a longtime reader, you know that none of my family knows I'm gay. This would therefore the first step.

Ya know what? I feel so ready for this.

Strange Antics

2009-03-15T22:20:00.003-04:00

As you might be able to tell, I'm making up for the not-so-much posting I've done this last week and the most likely not-so-much posting I will be doing this next week. I'm catching up because I like to keep up my general record of 20-30 posts a month.

If one recalls, I'm currently all alone at my parents' house. They have gone down to Florida for a month, leaving me free, comfortable and alone here. Ah, to walk around in my boxers/boxer-briefs again without weird glares.

Well, my Dad recently made an appearance back in Montreal. Apparently, something went haywire at the university, so he has needed to fly back here and step in for a week.

As rude as it is, when I arrived back home to find him watching TV one evening, I felt like he was an invader in my territory. How dare he show his face in MY home! Ya, it's actually their house...but I was so enjoying feeling like the master of my space!

Over the last few days he has made his presence known in the house, in ways that only he can provide: I constantly find butter covering the floor, cabinet handles and door handles. It's impossible for anyone to really make sense about this, whether its you strangers/the readers of this blog or whether it's me/his own family. Apparently though, when he butters his bread, it tends to go all over his hands (or fall onto the floor) and he feels the best way to wash it off is to wipe it onto any convenient edge.

I'm.....I'm kind of angry, but....I'm just mostly...speechless.

...

WHY THE FUCK WOULD ANYONE DO THIS!?

I'd like to say that I wonder about him, but I think I'm quite beyond that at this stage.

Hipster Chronicles

2009-03-15T21:52:00.005-04:00

Hipster Chronicles - Entry #427

Sunday March 15th, 2009

Dear Wanna-Be Hipster Diary,

I feel like I'm getting closer and closer to my goal. Just today, when my haircutter was styling my hair, he said "There, now you're hair has that indie-feel." O-M-G, I almost jumped up and kissed him, but I luckily remembered to suppress my visible emotions. I know! I didn't forget my hipster training AND I look even more the role. I was so deck.

But wait, there's more!

I then found and bought my first-ever pair of skinny jeans. This is so amazing, because I've been feeling so lost without them - I mean, what type of hipster wears normal pants? Exactly, they've been laughing at me for months, calling me midtown. Well now I've upped my game and I blend in perfectly!

I called up my friend to tell her how I'm getting closer and closer to hipsterdom and all she could say was "Oh God what have you unleashed!?". What a great compliment, eh?

I wanted to show her exactly what I looked like by taking photos of myself, but then my camera died. What shitty luck... so I instead listened to AIDS Wolf while chain smoking to make myself feel better.

I love talking with you wanna-be hipster diary. You're the only one that understands how hard it is to try this hard.

Love,
Thomas.

PS: See you tomorrow!

--------

The only 3 relevant, true(ish) details are:
yes I did get that haircut,
I do now own skinny jeans
and I actually did try to take a picture with my looking as hipster as possible. How sad/wonderful!

And no, I don't normally actually know those hipster linked-words. The internet showed me those. I would shoot myself in the eye before I ever used those words or became friends with someone who used them.

Wet Dreams

2009-03-15T21:27:00.003-04:00

Groups of friends should instigate more dinner parties. I'm talking about the make-the-food-at-home and invite everyone over, so talk, drink, eat and laugh together for an evening. I feel really good that mine went so well yesterday.

Here's the best comment of the night:

Tim: You think that's awkward? You don't know awkward! I still have wet-dreams! I am a 23 year old grown man, and I get wet dreams! In fact, when I was in Vancouver with my family this fall and we shared a bed one night, I had a wet dream. So in the middle of the night I had semen going down my leg, while sharing a bed with my Mom and sister. YOU DON'T KNOW AWKWARD AT ALL!

Mike: !!!
Liz: !!!
Xav: !!!
Me: !!!
[Mike's and Tim's Girlfriends]: !!!

All of us: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Laughing To Myself

2009-03-14T14:16:00.003-04:00

While I was showering this afternoon, I burst out laughing from remembering how I tackled my lady-friend in a bar, yesterday, and began humping her, while lying on the floor.

Two days go, I literally could not stop laughing for 15 minutes because I thought up the lamest/most wonderful joke, while showering.

I can distinctly remember two months ago when my laughing was so loud and long, that my Mom confronted me after I showered because she thought I was crying.

I love that I get so easily entertained by my own thoughts. Like you probably noticed, I chose examples of only showering because that's a moment I have just about everyday in which my mind doesn't get focused on anything in particular, so it has the chance to just wander. This doesn't only happen when I'm cleaning myself - my mind thinks up these hilarious and weird situations all the time when I'm doing really mundane stuff: washing the dishes, making lunch, riding the bus. There is no doubt in my mind that I've been pegged as the crazy dude on the bus a few times, when I start chuckling to myself for no visible reason.

This post isn't going on any real trajectory. I just felt like saying that I am really thankful for these ways I keep myself so entertained and in good humor. I would hope everyone does this.

And that was Saturday

2009-03-14T14:10:00.000-04:00

Oh god, I'm so hungover that I just tipped into a wall, fell down and stayed there for 3 minutes laughing to myself about how stupid I am.

Workin'

2009-03-12T23:09:00.002-04:00

With my upcoming trip to Austin, my boss has become quite nervous about the number of urgent items building up. Even with my reassurances that I'll still be working a bit while away, he's still anxious about it all.

Me: It's not like I'll be away the whole time. I'll still be popping in on Skype and doing work while in Austin, just not as frequently...

Boss: Oh ya right, don't give me that. We all know you're there for drugs, sex and rock and roll. Liz has told me the music festival is going on. It all sounds much too cool for you to hang out on your laptop with me.

Me: Hahaha, I swear I won't be ignoring you too much.

Boss: I'm jealous! I wish I was going to Austin.

Me: Either way, I'll make sure to get these [certain urgent things] done before my flight next wee.

Boss: OK, I just wanted to make sure about all that. Let's get back to you take screen captures of me hooked-up to a rectal sensor.

Consequently, I've been working late evenings and nights for the last few days. I'm sort of getting annoyed, but unlike most people I am lucky that I rarely ever need to do this.

By the way, that last remark from my boss is quite accurate. Oh the things he has me do.

They're Taking Over

2009-03-10T01:47:00.001-04:00

It is my civic-blogger duty to expose a truth to you all. Thus far, I feel like I'm to only one to have caught onto this. The more I think about it though, the more is makes clear sense. Why have others not realized it either? I'm not sure, but I think this might be a giant, music industry conspiracy. I'm not gonna beat around the bush anymore, I'm just gonna say it:

Lady Gaga is a robot.

Ya, ya, her music is very catchy and clearly going for pop mega-stardom. You can hear it everywhere (of course I've refused to download it, since willingly listening to popular music would go against the creed of the wanna-be-hipster). But you need to look past that computer enhanced, or dare I say computer-originating, voice. In fact, if you go to Youtube, you type in Lady Gaga Talks, you'll she her accent continuously changes between American, British and Northern European. Perhaps the robot is still mastering the English language?

Maybe it's only clicking in your head right now. I mean, have you seen her? Ignoring the fact that her name is indeed LADY GAGA, which is clear evidence she was made and christened in Japan or South Korea, she looks like a freaking robot! Fixed mouth. Clothing that never wrinkles or even changes shape. Immovable hair. Skin unaffected by sunlight. Sweat less.

At first I thought she might have been made from ceramics (case in point below), but that would have been a pretty big design flaw for the Japan/S.Korea.

Plastic is the obvious answer. When the camera crews go home and the lights are out, they switch up her style by removing her head and chest plate, and attach on new pieces. She's the next trendy level of the Mr./Mrs. Potato Head.

The great ruin of the music industry began a long time ago when the big companies decided to manufacture bands, but this steps it up a notch. Instead of using actually people they've just caved to building actual robots. I suppose it makes sense: they don't get tired, they can keep signing, they can churn out albums like Mormon-polygamists churn out babies.

I'd think her sexy mannerism and demeanor are all just programming too. If the clothes came off we'd mostly like see just a plastic covering where the crotch should be (think Barbie) or maybe a smoke pipe, spewing out gasoline fumes from her 6 cylinder engine (maybe if she were to break into a brisk run she could achieve a good 140km/h. The Japanese do make good cars). Just look at the poor Model Guy below. He looks psychologically wounded at the prospect at having to fool around with Lady Gaga.

If you still need some subtle hinting that she's made in a warehouse, HER PLASTIC SIBLINGS ARE ACTUALLY STANDING AROUND HER IN THE ABOVE PHOTO.

Still, if you need to more proof, just click the below link to the YouTube video for Poker Face.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rQblP5i47w

Everything about the video is trying to tell the watcher that she's made of plastic and wiring. I like to think a bunch of the filming team were trying to warn the masses about It's true identity. I'd bet that same crew can now be found at the bottom of some river.
LADY GAGA DOES NOT FORGIVE.

Come one people! We need to ban together against the rise of the machines! The music industry is undoubtedly only the beginning!

Caribou

2009-03-09T22:17:00.004-04:00

I would make a freaking amazing caribou.
I would be irresistible to the other caribou and I would have dozens of little caribou babies.
I would be my own kick-ass amazing caribou-specie.

Or at least I like to think that.
Yup, that's right.
I think about the What Ifs of being a caribou.

What 13 year olds do

2009-03-07T04:00:00.003-05:00

Although I am tipsy/drunk, this is not a drunk post.

It is an aristocratic post. It is culture in it's purest form. We are the privileged. This is power in it's natural shape of knowledge....
...or compelte bullshit - you decide.

-------

I have a new method of writing, inspired by a previous drunk post. Blue writing now signifies writing in French. Comme ici pute, c'est ma propre example.

The normal white font writing is the translation that follows. In accordance with the previous blue sentence, here is the translation that follows: Look at this slut, this is the example.

Why do I even need to include the French version, since probably none of you even care? Well, that's simple:
This is my blog. The French language is part of my culture. Fuck you. I want it to be here, so here it is.... Bitch.

Moving on to the topic at hand....

This is one of the most amazing things I have overheard. It happened while I was waiting for my bus to take me downtown. It came from one particular 13 year old girl, hanging out with her other 13 year old girl friends in a park:

«Tu dois avaler.»

"You need to swallow."

My interest is peaked immediately and I focus on their conversation.

«Les gars, ils m'aiment parce qu` j'avale.»

"Guys like me because I swallow."

Hearing this, I burst out laughing. The group pf girls all look over at me. I can't hide the fact I was over listening to them and I just start laughing, while staring at them. My bus arrives coincidentally right then, so I walk on-board and I keep looking out the window and laughing at the girls, while they give me dirty looks.

Awesome. Just awesome.

Facebook Recording Life

2009-03-05T23:52:00.001-05:00

I've been wondering about Facebook (and social websites) today. I've been on one or another since my mid-university life; so since about 3 or 4 years. I can look back at pictures on my Facebook and look at a younger me. Physically, I look mostly the same but my hair and clothes have changed a bit.

So what's it going to be like in 10 years with these websites? Am I still going to be on Facebook or its future successor? Will I be able to see what I looked like for the last 10+ years? Will I be able to see a transition of myself from young, single Thomas to a 30-something year old, in a long term relationship or married Thomas? That's of course assuming I will do those things. Who knows, maybe I'll just end up as some bitter guy in my 30s, after all my friends have found love.

Will everyone have eventually caved to putting a small facsimile or avatar of themselves on the internet by then? A friend of mine loves to takes photos of her baby and upload them for all to see. She probably has a good 600 photos of him on her Facebook. Will this little guy grow up to be 11 or 12, and then jump onto Facebook and create his own little account and be able to see countless snapshots of himself that have been on there for all to see since he was born?

I don't think this is scary, sad or amazing per se. It's just... I don't know, so foreign or unusual; just uncharted territory.

Maybe everyone will get over the idea of having miniature, virtual shrines devoted to themselves and social websites will become wildly unpopular. Maybe they'll just go down a slippery slope, that ends when it's just one giant dating website.

Let's not forget there's also death. If you will recall, I once wrote a post about an acquaintance who died a little less than a year ago. I personally think that was a fucking great post, sicec it was so personal and I spent so much time and effort writing it out well. Anyway, she's on Facebook. She's now dead and she's is still on Facebook. People still occasionally post on her "wall". They say how much they care for her and miss her still. She was actually recently tagged on some photos... 6 months since she's taken a breath. Will Janelle's identity be forever posted up on the internet?

Don't get me wrong - what I'm saying should not detract from the positive feelings I got from her, described on that linked post. I get that her presence on Facebook is probably very cathartic for people: they get to release these pent-up emotions, directly sharing them with a woman they so cared for. She's there, "listening", and it gets recorded in writing...forever. It's like having a picture of her on a shelf, I suppose. The weird thing, though, is that don't you think people deserve a chance to really die? The things that made up them, go from physicality to memory? (Don't even think of saying "Oh but they do: physical photos to digital, internet memory!" You jackass.)

When my day comes, which could be in a week, on a tragic flight to Austin, or in 20 years, I would hope my friends would take me off Facebook. I don't need to be some one's friend, from beyond the grave. I would much prefer my virtual self to be dead. Let whatever mental image I've build in my friends' and family's memories be the image they look for when they think of me. Sure, I'll eventually be forgotten, but that's the way the universe works. Things should never last forever and nothing should ever try to be.

Busy Brain

2009-03-04T23:16:00.005-05:00

I'm getting the distinct impression that Kieran's roommate is flirting with me.

Just to clarify right off the bat: this roommate it a guy about my age and is gay.

Also just to clarify straight away: even if he was interested in me, I would not be interested in him.

For most individuals, it's easy to perceive when other people are flirting with them. Clearly though, I'm not most people. Like I've said a few times before, I frankly suck at interpreting flirtation and "checking others out with their eyes", unless it's embarrassingly clear - as in the other person is continuously rubbing their hand over my chest for 2 hours while constantly repeating my name (Yes, a very true and awkward night).

There's a pretty high chance that he's just being friendly. We get along well, I talk with him when I'm over to hangout with Kieran and he's a funny guy.

He has this odd way of talking with me, while not looking directly at me. He asks me plenty of questions about myself and we talk about all the random subjects that come to mind. He constantly laughs and smiles with a smirk, but always looks away from me when he does this.

As I'm typing this, I'm starting to wonder why I'm even thinking about this. Why do I need to know if he's flirting or not, if the end result, regardless, will be me not dating him? I don't want to lead him on, but even if that is the case I don't think it would be considered mean for me to be simply talking with him on a normal level.

Uh, I'm over thinking all of this, and it's all because he's gay.

See what gay people do to me? They make me think all crazy when there's no reason to!

Damn you crazy homosexuals! Stop turning me into some stereotypical little girl from highschool, who thinks he whole world will come to a crashing halt if the boy she finds cute doesn't wave to her one day.

And to end this post that started going in one direction and ended in another, here is random real-person intimacy and hotness, stolen from the internet:

Winter Cottage Weekend - Part 2

2009-03-04T00:26:00.007-05:00

Ice Lake Shenanigans

Xav: It's so peaceful out here.

Tim: I keep forgetting that this is normally water that swim in during the summer.

Xav: Oh fuck it. I'm swimming on the ice!

Tim: Me too!

Me: Wait, lemme take out the camera!

Xav: AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tim: AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

And then I joined them.

Me: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I was surprised how warr it was. The shock actually kept me body really warm.

Me: I know - let's drink out here!

Soon after the ice-skate-sledding began.

Winter Cottage Weekend - Part 1

2009-03-02T20:39:00.016-05:00

The weekend cottage getaway was everything I hoped it would be. I'll let the photos, with my added comments, describe this Part 1. Click pics to enlarge & sharpen the image.

Friend: It's too icy to drive all the way down, so we'll have to park up here and make the 10 minute walk to the cabin.

This is me pulling half of my group's food on my sled, down the frozen path.

The cottage is perfectly located in the middle of nowhere. No cell phone reception and no real neighbors.

Best of all, it's that stereotypical hunter's cabin, with animals heads/bones everywhere.

I wish I could have a moose head on my wall....without actually having to kill it.

The drinking began immediately, Friday night. It finally ended early Sunday afternoon. I had actually never played beer pong before. It's.....kind of boring.

We tried our hands (and asses) at drunk sledding. Not much success there.

So we instead focused out attention to our potato-cannon. It shoots surprisingly far.

Not pictured: the metal bell annihilated by Xav's good aim and one high-speed potato. The cannon has a pretty strong recoil.

Prelude

2009-03-01T22:41:00.006-05:00

Did you just hear it?

Oh ya.

It sounds like a low bass note.

I never knew that cracking ice sounds like that.

It happened all last night too. I thought at first we were going to fall through the ice, but then we got used to it.

And you guys decided to still build a fire in the middle of the lake, not thinking that was a bad idea?

Yup - I doubt the ice would have completely broken apart. It's like a foot thick....

...Although the cracks did happen a few times directly under my body, which did obviously freak me out.

We are insanity.

I Can't Wait

2009-02-27T00:08:00.004-05:00

This weekend's is my friend's winter party up at her cottage.

The summer party is complete madness. The winter one won't be as good, 'cause of the cold, but it will still be amazing.

I am going to drink so much and smoke so much shisha (aka hookah).

Part of me feels like going absolutely nuts, of course the other part of me is weary up me letting go of all my inhibitions, so that the asshole in me gets free (think back to 2 posts ago).

Oh well, I guess we'll see!

With this crowd, I'm gonna take tones of pictures.