So, we're more than half-way through June, and I haven't posted a thing since near the end of last month.
I've contemplated new posts since.. but whenever I considered how much had occurred between then and now, I could never dredge up the motivation to write about it all. But I suppose I can get around to it now, espresso in one hand, a shimmering and lustful hope for my future and present in the other.
To start with.. I am officially 19! On the date of my birthday itself, I was actually doing my radio show, and as such, ganged-up with my 19-since-September co-host (one of the best friends I've ever had) to hit the bar before, during, and after being on air.
Turns out... I am capable of being significantly better at rapping when I'm drunk, once I strip away all the social anxiety's which would otherwise hold me back from giving it my all. I have since learned how to adapt without being drunk, and have noted myself to be growing exponentially in my free-styling, as well as my written-rap abilities. The fantasy of one day becoming a professional paid rapper is becoming less and less a dream, and much closer to reality.
However.. I have been getting far too drunk, far too often since my birthday, and have as such made the decision to lay off of alcohol for a little while so I don't start abusing my new-found 'privilege.'
I'll go back to sticking with the illegal drugs while I recuperate from the legal one.
The intense existential anxiety I've been experiencing lately is finally starting to subside now that I have completely faced it on numerous occasions at its worst, which has caused it to dissipate quite significantly. I believe I may be exiting what the Buddhists call "the dark night of the soul." And I'm happy for two things: 1; that I got to experience such profundity, and 2; that I am finally over with it to move on to new things in life. Perhaps, in the not too distant future, I will write about what this severe existential anxiety was like. Part of me truly wants to write paragraphs on it, while another part of me would rather leave it unsaid so I don't suddenly condemn someone else to it in reading about mine. However... I do think it's something everyone should go through at some point in their lives, because it really does wake you up in all aspects, and whether it was simply an illusion created out of anxiety or an honest truth, it really does feel like I walked through the 'valley of the shadow of death.' The strangest part about all of it is.. this is the most detailed I've gotten about it at all. Even on the occasions I felt it intensely in the presence of friends, I never really felt like telling them about it would solve anything, so I usually rode it out in complete silence amidst a small crowd.
One solid thing I learned from this experience.. fear is the mind killer. Now I face it all despite the fear. Not even death worries me anymore. Free yourself from fear, because that is what freedom really is.
On the work front, I am getting little to no hours at the bakery I've been working at since the end of April. I worked yesterday (Sunday), and don't work again until next Sunday. So, I've been offered a chance to get a job that pays upwards of $17 an hour, and am pretty dedicated to pursuing said opportunity, even if it means I may have to ditch the place in Lund to work in town. $17 an hour, at enough hours, will guarantee my way to the city in September; and that's my current focus in terms of goals at this point in my life. As long as I can save a minimum of 1 grand by that time, I'm good and gung-ho to go.
So, that's really it that I can think up at the moment. I'll be getting around to more philosophical and socially-related articles as the summer begins to hit full-force... I've also been brainstorming a few potential short story plots, so keep on the look out for those between now and apparent end-of-the-world this December! I can guarantee at least one more short story before the planets align and we all explode into spirit dust.
Peace out blue planet, I love you!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Saturday, May 26, 2012
On Anxiety and Ecstasy
It seems to be, in my mind, a great battle between the two.
To me, it embodies many of the great religious themes of the past 3000 years. Most pertinently referenced, however, is the ancient precursor to Judaeo-Christian civilization itself: the Bible.
As Charlie Chaplin so beautifully summed-up in his closing speech to the 1940's anti-fascist film "The Great Dictator," (which now seems to sum-up, within an entirely subjective perspective, many of the social movements which occurred following the Second World War, including Occupy Wall Street):
"In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written "the kingdom of God is within man" - not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you, the people."
It is this truth which holds itself below the very nose of us all, more than ready to be discovered. It does not need to be earned or sought; it is simply there. However... most of us neglect to notice its very existence; and this would not be so much of an issue if it were not for the fact that ignorance to its very presence causes (most predominantly in the Western world) the individual to believe the only extreme transcendental discovery available to them is this terrible embracing of fear and loathing. In other words: a complete acceptance of a dismal post-modernity in which one truly is nothing more than a customer service assistant with 7/11, or a slug-minded office worker afflicted with deep-set apathy which succeeds in doing nothing more than concealing their great inner depression and animosity towards what they see as the curse of existence.
It is strange, however, that such an attitude proves that Heaven and Hell really do exist upon this very Earth. As is stated in enigmatic transience during Robert Linklater's 2001 film, "Waking Life":
"In hell, you sink to the level of your lack of love. In heaven you rise to the level of your fullness of love."
Some come to this 'ultimatum' of sorts earlier in their lives than others; but absolutely everyone.. no matter how long they are able to ward it off.. must face it eventually, and choose between the options presented: either a deep, endless, unconditional love for existence itself.. or a great endless animosity and fear in which whether or not to commit suicide becomes the basis of all philosophy and thought on the matter.
Much hypocrisy exists within these choices, however, as in reality, both require the others contrast to exist in the first place. Positive implies negative, and negative implies positive. It is only the one you decide to feed which will grow to become your focus and the very framework of your reality, regardless of what fortunes or misfortunes you will encounter over the course of your life, and what strange, beautiful intricacies will twist your head in wonder as to what the meaning of truth could truly be.
I find this ultimatum is quite quickly presented to those of a philosophical nature. I know it was certainly presented to me on numerous occasions, and I made my choice whether I was aware of it or not.
That's not to say that any 'choice,' whether conscious or unconscious, is final... as I have experienced both to peak extremes.. but it is to say this:
I have found that, through laziness and fear of braving existential terrain, I have submitted myself to hell on more occasions than one. It was, in my mind, an attempt at ignoring and bypassing the ultimatum because I felt like I no longer wished to choose, which was, ironically, a choice. And it was the last choice any of us consciously wish to make.
I began to have panic attacks in which I feared the very fact that I existed, and every little detail.. including the fact that I was thinking about the fact that it was too strange a fact that I existed.. sent me on a whirlwind of existential and philosophical despair; I did not understand the power of my own mind when I decided not to decide, and in doing so, made a decision. My mind, being as conscious and aware as it is, needed to make a choice. I was not like the airy, un-philosophical majority which rarely (if ever) dabble in the matters of existence itself. I did not have ignorance enough to post-pone the choice.
Luckily.. it's never too late. I pulled myself away from the precipice of my attempt at feigning ignorance. I came to many quick realizations as a result, and am now consciously set on loving all of existence unconditionally and completely regardless of any of my fortunes or misfortunes. Of course, I still feel like I am towing the line and have much to learn, but it is a will to the positive that takes a true effort; and it is a will to the negative that takes apathy, laziness, and fear, yet leads to nowhere fulfilling, and is simply no more than a cheap waste of something so incomprehensibly incredible, its incredulity becomes frightening to the small mind.
In a psychoanalytical sense, anxiety is a preoccupation with worst-case scenario 'what-if's,' while ecstasy is a lack of preoccupation, and nothing more than a true and simple occupancy and full awareness of the moment as an incredible and beautiful whole. Complete polar opposites.
It's quite obvious that there are very few people who can truly remain within an extreme forever. Eventually, whether you are in Hell on Earth or Heaven on Earth, you must return to Earth on Earth. The thing is, it is like the red and blue pill. Even when you do return to Earth on Earth, the decision remains as your state of mind. And although you can feel centered, you will still feel the pull of Heaven, or the pull of Hell.
The choice is ours, amigos.
To me, it embodies many of the great religious themes of the past 3000 years. Most pertinently referenced, however, is the ancient precursor to Judaeo-Christian civilization itself: the Bible.
As Charlie Chaplin so beautifully summed-up in his closing speech to the 1940's anti-fascist film "The Great Dictator," (which now seems to sum-up, within an entirely subjective perspective, many of the social movements which occurred following the Second World War, including Occupy Wall Street):
"In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written "the kingdom of God is within man" - not one man, nor a group of men - but in all men - in you, the people."
It is this truth which holds itself below the very nose of us all, more than ready to be discovered. It does not need to be earned or sought; it is simply there. However... most of us neglect to notice its very existence; and this would not be so much of an issue if it were not for the fact that ignorance to its very presence causes (most predominantly in the Western world) the individual to believe the only extreme transcendental discovery available to them is this terrible embracing of fear and loathing. In other words: a complete acceptance of a dismal post-modernity in which one truly is nothing more than a customer service assistant with 7/11, or a slug-minded office worker afflicted with deep-set apathy which succeeds in doing nothing more than concealing their great inner depression and animosity towards what they see as the curse of existence.
It is strange, however, that such an attitude proves that Heaven and Hell really do exist upon this very Earth. As is stated in enigmatic transience during Robert Linklater's 2001 film, "Waking Life":
"In hell, you sink to the level of your lack of love. In heaven you rise to the level of your fullness of love."
Some come to this 'ultimatum' of sorts earlier in their lives than others; but absolutely everyone.. no matter how long they are able to ward it off.. must face it eventually, and choose between the options presented: either a deep, endless, unconditional love for existence itself.. or a great endless animosity and fear in which whether or not to commit suicide becomes the basis of all philosophy and thought on the matter.
Much hypocrisy exists within these choices, however, as in reality, both require the others contrast to exist in the first place. Positive implies negative, and negative implies positive. It is only the one you decide to feed which will grow to become your focus and the very framework of your reality, regardless of what fortunes or misfortunes you will encounter over the course of your life, and what strange, beautiful intricacies will twist your head in wonder as to what the meaning of truth could truly be.
I find this ultimatum is quite quickly presented to those of a philosophical nature. I know it was certainly presented to me on numerous occasions, and I made my choice whether I was aware of it or not.
That's not to say that any 'choice,' whether conscious or unconscious, is final... as I have experienced both to peak extremes.. but it is to say this:
I have found that, through laziness and fear of braving existential terrain, I have submitted myself to hell on more occasions than one. It was, in my mind, an attempt at ignoring and bypassing the ultimatum because I felt like I no longer wished to choose, which was, ironically, a choice. And it was the last choice any of us consciously wish to make.
I began to have panic attacks in which I feared the very fact that I existed, and every little detail.. including the fact that I was thinking about the fact that it was too strange a fact that I existed.. sent me on a whirlwind of existential and philosophical despair; I did not understand the power of my own mind when I decided not to decide, and in doing so, made a decision. My mind, being as conscious and aware as it is, needed to make a choice. I was not like the airy, un-philosophical majority which rarely (if ever) dabble in the matters of existence itself. I did not have ignorance enough to post-pone the choice.
Luckily.. it's never too late. I pulled myself away from the precipice of my attempt at feigning ignorance. I came to many quick realizations as a result, and am now consciously set on loving all of existence unconditionally and completely regardless of any of my fortunes or misfortunes. Of course, I still feel like I am towing the line and have much to learn, but it is a will to the positive that takes a true effort; and it is a will to the negative that takes apathy, laziness, and fear, yet leads to nowhere fulfilling, and is simply no more than a cheap waste of something so incomprehensibly incredible, its incredulity becomes frightening to the small mind.
In a psychoanalytical sense, anxiety is a preoccupation with worst-case scenario 'what-if's,' while ecstasy is a lack of preoccupation, and nothing more than a true and simple occupancy and full awareness of the moment as an incredible and beautiful whole. Complete polar opposites.
It's quite obvious that there are very few people who can truly remain within an extreme forever. Eventually, whether you are in Hell on Earth or Heaven on Earth, you must return to Earth on Earth. The thing is, it is like the red and blue pill. Even when you do return to Earth on Earth, the decision remains as your state of mind. And although you can feel centered, you will still feel the pull of Heaven, or the pull of Hell.
The choice is ours, amigos.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
So I haven't posted anything in awhile
and I'll give you all a quick sum-up of where I've been, and why I haven't been blogging.
I moved out north of town, close to the small community of Lund, with a friend of mine who is also a co-host with me on "Intrigue."
It's a nice little rustic cottage on a property with a big penthouse building, and 2 cabins which are still under construction. There is a beach down a little private pathway about 5 minutes from our place, and man.. it is an absolutely gorgeous beach. I wish I could show all of you this great little place in the woods. I'm sure you would all love it.
Other then that.. my life has been full of much more enjoyable work, friends, family, stream-of-consciousness prose and poetry, plenty of reading (Alan Watts, Jack Kerouac and the like), lots of writing, playing music, meeting new people, much thinking (philosophical and otherwise), and exploring. I am definitely living the good life right now!
However... I can guarantee that my blogging will become even more infrequent than ever, considering the lack of internet (aside from when I'm at work on my iPod Touch), my working a job out north, and looking to temporarily increase my work-week to 45 hours in order to guarantee my way to Victoria in late August/ early September.
Just wanted to let you all know that life is going great, and that I will return in full-force come September, and you will all hear from me here and there over the course of the summer (just not as often as usual!)
I wish you all the best, and a great summer! Peace out, blue planet!
I love you!
I moved out north of town, close to the small community of Lund, with a friend of mine who is also a co-host with me on "Intrigue."
It's a nice little rustic cottage on a property with a big penthouse building, and 2 cabins which are still under construction. There is a beach down a little private pathway about 5 minutes from our place, and man.. it is an absolutely gorgeous beach. I wish I could show all of you this great little place in the woods. I'm sure you would all love it.
Other then that.. my life has been full of much more enjoyable work, friends, family, stream-of-consciousness prose and poetry, plenty of reading (Alan Watts, Jack Kerouac and the like), lots of writing, playing music, meeting new people, much thinking (philosophical and otherwise), and exploring. I am definitely living the good life right now!
However... I can guarantee that my blogging will become even more infrequent than ever, considering the lack of internet (aside from when I'm at work on my iPod Touch), my working a job out north, and looking to temporarily increase my work-week to 45 hours in order to guarantee my way to Victoria in late August/ early September.
Just wanted to let you all know that life is going great, and that I will return in full-force come September, and you will all hear from me here and there over the course of the summer (just not as often as usual!)
I wish you all the best, and a great summer! Peace out, blue planet!
I love you!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Post-Graduate Life
for me, so far, has been so absolutely incredibly full.
It's felt like I've lived hundreds of lives in the past year.
In the short amount of time which has elapsed between June of 2011 and this month, April 2012, I have lived more than I have in the past 14 years of my life combined- all within 10 months, the length of an average school-year.
Exactly a year ago, I was still a 17 year-old high-schooler who hadn't really decided to acknowledge that school would ever really end. The idea was far too surreal.
But I had grand ambitions; beyond, it turns out, my immediate ability to satisfy. But my God, did I ever try.
I've learned more in this past year then I ever did in school. More in a real-life context as opposed to intellectual.. although I have soaked up my fair-share of intellectual knowledge as well.
I feel like I've seen the ends of my old Earth; the ends of my conceivable and comprehensible horizons as I ever could have handled fresh out of my high-school life.
In short, here is what has happened to me over the course of this year:
I attended and completed the Bladerunners program, meeting a plethora of interesting figures, some of which were poetically tragic, but still beautifully hopeful in regards to themselves and their futures. I have since heard that many are on the road to lives of satisfaction, which makes me smile inside.
Through the Bladerunners program, I became work-eligible. Immediately following the programs end, I was hired-on to work at Aaron's Vending and Services, my first real job, at which I would spend hours upon hours cleaning water jugs so they could be recycled and reused for local distribution.
Although quite a monotonous job, I learned a lot from it. Both about life, and about myself.
I discovered I would rather not clean water jugs for the rest of my life.
I also hosted my own radio show, titled "Intrigue," every Wednesday from 3:30 to 5 on the local community radio.
Around the same time, I met a girl through a friend of mine. Strangely enough, it was forecasted that we would somehow end-up together, and hence, they made attempts at keeping us apart as so we would never meet.
Inevitably, we ended up meeting under some very strange circumstances. We became friends.
After a little while, we began to like each other. Quite a lot. And eventually, we rose in love with one another. During this time, she lost someone incredibly close to her. This tragedy struck us both quite hard.. her harder, of course. But I honestly discovered true empathy, and I honestly felt her pain with the same lucidity. I learned a lot from it about life and about myself as well. We had a thing together for about a month before we decided to decide what we were. It was quite beautiful. The catch was... she lived on an island 2 ferries and a 4 or 5 hour drive away.
I decided I loved her enough to give long-distance a shot, seeing as I had never tried it before. And I wanted more than anything to be there for her during what was probably the hardest time of her life.
Sometimes, however, when I'm stuck in a pit of self-pity and I feel retrospective, I wonder if she simply loved me because of her loss. I usually realize that didn't feel like the case at all. Although it did complicate things, it was what it was. I suppose it still is what it is.
After making money and simply spending it on trivial commodities such as clothes and other luxuries, I quickly began to realize the value of saving.
The next amount of money I made, I spent on visiting her. I met her family, who I immediately grew a warm fondness for, and explored, for the first time in my life, the Gulf Island of Salt Spring. I absolutely loved it with all of my heart.
Around the same time, September of 2011, the world was changing. Occupy Wall Street was in full-swing, and a full-fledged revolution did not seem at all out of the question. I followed the Occupy movement quite closely, hoping to get involved as some point soon.
In some strange way, it was the Occupy movement that inspired me to cross the first real precipice in my life. For about 2 years, I'd been talking with a friend about the possibility of moving in with him and his mom for a little while to work and get out of Powell River by living in the city.
So I planned, and I organized, and I cut some deals with my dad regarding support money, and near the end of October I gave my 2-weeks notice at Aaron's Vending and started packing my suitcases. I decided I was going to take a detour and visit the city of Victoria on the way to spend Halloween with some good friends of mine who were attending University. My girlfriend was also doing the same thing, which was what caused me to disregard my fathers practical advice and take the detour regardless.
So I spent about 3 or 4 days in Victoria, visiting with some friends I hadn't seen since the end of the summer months, and whose absences had really caused the fact of graduation to somewhat dismally sink-in. Immediately, I fell in love with the city. This love later led to my decision to live there this coming September.
My girlfriend and I became closer and closer, rising more and more in love. I hadn't felt this way about anyone before, because Osho's idea of 'rising' was a brand-new concept to both her and I. But I very much liked it. There was an incredible moment of depth and connection during the Halloween DDP (Decentralized Dance Party) in which we simply stared into each others eyes smiling like love-struck idiots before falling into a sort of dance-kiss while girls and guys dressed in full-body spandex weaved throughout the crowd with boom-boxes propped on their shoulders blasting Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" while the entire crowd sung along en-masse. It was a true Holy Moment, and I still remember it with a deep and warm fondness.
I remember, as well, weaving through the thinly-crowded streets with a best friend of mine, a famous DJ in the works, visiting obscure and well-hidden thrift shops and surplus stores with clothes which were, in some strange way, hard to believe existed in the first place. Something about the thrift vibe and the kind of clothes we encountered had this beautiful genuineness you could never get purchasing from the likes of Wal-Mart or the Gap.
Finally, I stepped-on to the ferry with my to-be room-mate (who had also decided to be in Victoria for Halloween) and headed for my new home on the Lower Mainland in the suburban city of Port Coquitlam.
I missed Victoria almost as soon as the ferry began to depart.
And I remember the poetic departure of my girlfriend, who got so caught-up in a separate ferry line-up, that we didn't have a chance to physically say good-bye.
The ferry pulled-in to the Tsawwassen terminal on the other side of the Georgia Straight, and my friend and I hitched with my aunt and uncle, who had kindly agreed to give us a ride the day before.
The car weaved through the sky-scraped skylines and the flat suburbias until we reached Port Coquitlam. Billboards plastered the highways and Esso gas-stations were to be found every second block. The immediate vibe I got was one I decided not to take at face-value.
We finally pulled-in to the quaint little driveway of my new home, and my friends mom stood at the doorway to greet us as I bid my aunt and uncle farewell, promising to visit them while I was down here.
She kindly welcomed me in and showed me to my room. It was a warmly colored room with a friendly vibe, and a rainbow fan that hung on the ceiling poetically welcoming me to the Lower Mainland; where the whole spectrum resides.
Although still distraught from the profound adjustment, I decided then and there to make it a priority to visit Downtown Vancouver as often as possible.
And that's exactly what I did.
Purchasing a 3-zone bus-pass with the support money my dad wired to my account a couple of days later, I immediately went to visit the Occupy Vancouver encampment. I partook in a General Assembly and met more ideas than I did people.
And they were incredibly creative and valuable ideas.
I aimlessly wandered the streets of Vancouver, stopping at a Starbucks here and there, and had a few interesting city encounters with people I have never again seen since. Nor do I ever expect to see them again.
After a week of exploring and adjustment, I was charged with the task of finding a job.
So, for the next 2 weeks, that's what I focused on, yet to no avail. I began losing hope, and when my father announced that if I didn't have a job within 2 more weeks I would have to return home, I attended a job-fair in Burnaby with no immediate success, and as such, decided to stoop to the lowest level I have ever stooped and applied to McDonald's.
Most of my very being had my fingers crossed hoping they wouldn't call back.
Of course, as irony would have it, they called 2 hours later and asked if I was available for an interview on the upcoming Saturday. 2 days later, one of the employers I had applied with at the Burnaby job-fair called; the Lids hat-store in Metrotown Mall. They didn't ask for an interview of any sort, and simply asked at what point I could start.
I later found out that, of the 60 something people that applied for the same job, only me and girl around the same age had been chosen. That very much flattered me, but regardless, I still wished they had called before McDonald's had.
I had a feeling I wouldn't need to dress-up for an interview at a fast-food restaurant.. especially not one so 'esteemed' as McDonald's.. but my room-mates mom (and I suppose, in some strange way, my 'legal guardian') was fixed on the idea of dressing me up nice for this interview. So that's exactly what she did.
It felt uncomfortable and strange.
So, that Saturday, with a torrent of rain falling from the sky outside, I tucked my resume under my jacket and walked to the bus-stop.
Each bus that passed stopped, informed me it was full, and asked me kindly to wait for the next bus. After this scenario repeated itself 3 or 4 times, I swore under my breath and decided I had to walk it if I was going to make it in time. So I did.
With mud splatting onto the back of my dress-pants with every step I took, I marched as fast as I could.
At one point, I decided to make sure my resume was still safely tucked under my coat.
It wasn't.
Panicking, I looked behind me and saw it floating in muddy puddle. At this point, I assumed there was no way I was getting the job. I picked it up, now scrunched and soaking, and kept walking.
Eventually, now soaking wet and upset, I made it to the McDonald's.
I asked if Stan, who I was supposed to be interviewed by, was around.
They then informed me this was the wrong McDonald's, and the McDonald's I was looking for was part of a newly-build Wal-Mart shopping center about a half-hour walk from there.
Now I felt doubly sure the job wasn't mine.
However, strangely enough, the assistant manager of this particular McDonald's informed me he was heading to the Wal-Mart shopping center right now anyways, and offered me a ride, which I quite avidly took as a last hope. He drove me there safe and sound, and along the way he described how he had started as a batch-cook in the company and had stuck with them long enough to become an assistant manager. Something about his story of 'success' was beyond depressing.
It felt like a lack of natural human ambition in my mind.
So I got to the interview an hour and a half late, caked in mud, soaking wet, and with only a single resume that was muddy, scrunched, and damp. When I asked him if he wanted me to give him another resume the next chance I get, he kindly declined, chuckled at the fact that I had dressed-up for this interview, and gave me the job on the spot.
Two feelings arose at this point. One of elation at having got the job.. and one of deflation at how low the standards were here. And what the hell I had just gotten myself into.
To skip forward, I worked at this particular McDonald's for about 2 and a half months. As well, I worked at Lids most weekends as well, and was lucky if I got one day off per week.
But I was certainly raking in the cash.
At the same time, I had my girlfriend come up and visit at least once a month, and managed, on a couple of occasions, to feign sickness as so I didn't have to attend work during her stay.
Her and I explored Downtown Vancouver, and both of us fell in deep love with Granville Island. I had already fallen in love with Granville on multiple occasions, but it would always renew itself with every visit. She visited after Occupy Vancouver's eviction from the Art Gallery, so attendance, sadly, wasn't an option.
I remember during one visit, I had to work for 5 hours in the evening. She sweetly wished to tag-along, and despite her feet becoming soaked during the walk to work, and slipping in mud and snow at one point, she still decided to stick it out. I remember feeling so deeply in love with her that night.
She simply walked up and down the isles of the Wal-Mart for 5 hours straight, purchasing some new shoes and socks so her feet would be dry and suitably ready for the snow and mud outside. Near the end of my shift, she simply sat on a bench across the way and smiled at me sweetly as I cleaned the lobby.
I smiled back and felt our energies connect.
Another Holy Moment, in a strange place, at a strange time, under strange circumstances.
I really enjoyed working at Lids. All I would do is chat with people, let them know about the current deals, and get this beautiful and poetic insight into their lives if they felt so inclined to chat. It was this job that made me realize customer service was where I belonged, at least in a career aspect.
During all of this, I was missing home more and more, and due to my girlfriends grief over her still recent loss and my deep empathy regarding it, I was beginning to become depressed.
It wasn't until I was slated to do a week of night-shift at McDonald's during the lead-up to Christmas that the camels back really broke.
It threw me off entirely in all aspects. And near the end of the week, I also had to work day-shift at Lids.
I was beyond exhausted.
Finally, after I got-off work at Lids on Christmas eve around 4 PM, my mom (who was down visiting from Powell River) picked me up from Metrotown Mall, and we headed off to my aunts house in Ladner.
At one point, I stood-up from my chair, and all of a sudden every muscle in my calves seized-up, causing me to collapse to the ground in excruciating pain.
My eczema, as well, was worse then it had been a couple of years ago on my feet.
So I lay there in brutal pain, and my mom grabbed an 'emergency banana,' which did indeed save me due to the help of potassium.
After a couple more hours, I apologized to everyone and simply went to bed.
During all of this, and due to my falling into depression for a plethora of different reasons, I began to rely more and more on my girlfriend for feelings of security and a semblance of happiness. It was slowly slipping into co-dependency, and as opposed to rising in love, I was now falling.
She fell to a degree as well, but the pressure I was placing on her when she was already dealing with so much caused her to stop and re-asses the whole situation with a clearer head than I could conjure.
So, the relationship from that point on began to deteriorate. Rather slowly, yes, but nonetheless.
My health, too, began to deteriorate as a result of all the stress (much of it self-perpetuated). I woke-up one morning with my ears ringing, and in some way, shape, or form, they have been ringing since. I have also experienced vertigo (usually brought-on by severe stress) and jaw-clicking, ear-popping, and general pain in and around the ears and jaw.
I have since discovered it is probably the result of TMJ (Tempo-mandibular Joint Disorder) and is definitely treatable. Sadly; braces may be the only way to treat it, and my orthodontic coverage under my fathers plan runs out as soon as I am 19 on June 1st, so regardless of when I start my treatment, I will be the one who will have to pay a majority of the $6000 required to purchase and sustain braces. However... I have an appointment on May 9th to assess what needs to be done, and other options may be available. We will see.
I took a few days off from work to go spend New Years Eve in Powell River with my friends and family. My girlfriend, too, was going up for reasons of visiting me, as well as spending New Years with some mutual friends of ours. It felt incredibly good to get away, and I believe this return visit is what sparked my inspiration to return home for my own good, which I did about 26 days later after quitting both of my jobs, packing up, bidding my friend and his mom goodbye, and applying to a few jobs.
Before I had even left, I had an interview lined-up with the local A&W for February 1st. In my mind, at the time, it was certainly an upgrade from McDonald's, no matter how slight.
Upon my return, I had about a week or so to just doddle around, jobless, and attempt to re-center myself once again. I half-heartedly searched for jobs elsewhere, but I had a strong feeling that A&W was going to work out. Which it did.
My girlfriend came up to visit around the beginning of February, and it was the first time I'd seen her since a couple of days after New Years (after which she caught a bus back down to the Lower Mainland with me so we could spend some time together).
Everything seemed quite beautifully pristine between us, but the distance was now truly starting to get to me.
This visit would be her last. It was the last time we physically spent together before the break-up, which occurred, entirely out of the blue, the day after Valentines. She explained what I had neglected to notice, and how she could not healthily function in a relationship right now. For the next month, it would be heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak between us.
We made attempts and being 'friends in love,' in which there was no goal or direction; simply this relationship right now. No obligation, nothing.
We broke-up 2 or 3 more times, but it wasn't until my little road-trip to Victoria that it truly ended with pure finality.
I hadn't been going to the city with the intention to visit her, and I had no clue she would also be in town at the same time. When I found out she was also going in order to visit a best friend of hers, it was certainly added to my list of things 'to-do' while down there. I had to figure out what was going on between us at this point.
The trip to Victoria was an incredible adventure. I met-up with a best friend of mine in Nanaimo, stayed the night at her house, and hitch-hiked from there to Victoria with her. We got a ride with a strange man. one of his arms was in a cast, and one of his legs seemed crippled, hence he walked with a crutch.
He told us it was because he had just got some of his bones grafted after some sort of brutal accident.
He seemed to be in his 40's or 50's, and he listened to bands such as Avenged Sevenfold. Although it was obvious to my friend and I that we weren't the biggest fans of this kind of music, there was some sort of subconscious agreement that we should pretend to be as a form of thanks to this man for giving us a ride.
It was a bit of a concerning situation, as I spotted a condom in his cup-holder, absolutely unhidden. As soon as he told us we were taking a pit-stop, both my friend and I had our fingers crossed hoping to God or Allah or Jesus or Buddah he was going to stop in someplace populated.
He did, and all we ended up doing was stopping at the Mill City A&W for some lunch and a bathroom break.
He got us all the way to Victoria safe and sound, letting us off at the Mayfair Center. We bid him farewell and thanked him for the ride, and I believe we both felt bad about having judged him in a sense that suggested he was a 'creepy old man.' He had probably picked us up because he felt lonely, and had wanted someone to talk to.
That same night, we attended a party, and my ex was present. She confused me, as one minute she would ignore me, the next she would chat with me or put her legs upon my lap.
Finally, out of hurt and anger, I asked her what was going on between us and she told me she was simply trying to 'keep it platonic.'
We decided to take a walk and sort things out, neglecting the party for most of the night.
This walk was a great festival of tears, brutal truths, final hand-holdings, hugs, anguished rants, and one last kiss.
It was absolutely over between us.
I spent the next couple of days hanging close to a couple guy friends of mine, ranting and ranting and ranting, trying to get it all off of my chest but to no avail. I tried to appeal to her for one last goodbye, but she declined, opting instead to drop-by my friends dorm with the rest of my stuff and share one last hug goodbye.
No more rants, no more appeals, no more anything.
A couple of days later, I discovered that she slept with a guy about my age that same night that she met at a party. This information quite literally felt like it blew my mind when I heard it. I felt dizzy, unreal, and disoriented.
I felt angry, and heartbroken, and worthless because I had never believed myself to be so expendable.
But it did help with moving on in the sense that there was certainly nothing else to appeal to anymore.
The night following, there was a large dance party on the University of Victoria campus. A good friend of mine and I decided to try and get some girls. At first, I wanted to get laid in order to get even... but later decided that was too petty and, in many ways, self-destructive. I decided to try for it anyways, but not in order to get even with anyone. So we played wing-man, using the fact that I host a radio-show as a great opening line. A few girls quickly gravitated to us, and we both ended-up having a good night making out with a couple of attractive strangers. However... we didn't go so far as sleeping with them, as circumstance got in the way.
I wrote a long blogpost about the break-up that vented my anger through pure honesty as soon as I made it back home to Powell River. Confused at why her doing such a thing would hurt me or cause me to be as angry as I was, she felt insulted by the fact that I had blogged about what had occurred, which lead to further aftermath drama, which in turn, led to one last blogpost in which I vented my anger through pure honesty. Which once again insulted her.
But letting it all out really did help, regardless.
I later found out that she ended-up having a thing with this guy that she slept with, and although it bothered me at first, it didn't surprise me. I was more heartbroken at the fact that she didn't understand what she did wrong.
I spent the next couple of months working at A&W, hosting the radio show with a couple of good friends, and slowly developing a deep animosity for my job and the entire fast-food industry.
I began spending every shift I had planning-out what I would need to get and what I would need to do to live in the woods out north of town in Lund. I scouted an ideal place to camp, and my broken-heart was healing, therefore giving more room to ambition and hope for the future and the present.
I began making weekly trips out to Lund on my days off to apply for jobs. Three opportunities presented themselves, and one of them I will be starting this weekend at Nancy's Bakery for two four-hour training shifts on Saturday and Sunday.
So, last week, I gave my two-weeks notice at A&W, purchased over $200 worth of camping supplies, decided to neglect the rest of my shifts at work on Monday (which I would still technically be working if I hadn't decided to simply leave), and got a ride out yesterday to setup out north and begin living in the woods.
However, last night was a failure to launch.
I was out there.. setup and everything.. and I was basically doing nothing but napping (after the friend of mine that drove me out there left) because of the rain. But I just had this deep, deep anxiety while I was trying to sleep at a few points, like I had put myself into this dismally impossible situation, and the rain just wouldn't let me sleep. perhaps I hit it at the wrong time, and I'm not sure if this was a failure, or just a failure to launch. I'm still contemplating just using it to crash in while I'm working at Nancy's Bakery and every other day just coming back out to town.. and working towards working and boarding at the Lund Hotel until the possibility of renting a place (which has been alluded to quite a few times by a good friend of mine) materializes. I basically got so anxious, I simply grabbed a few things and a flashlight, walked to the Lund main drag, and called my mom. She called a cab and she wants me to pay for half of it. It was an absolutely crazy night.
Tonight, I am heading out to Lund once again. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to make another attempt at staying the night or not, but a friend of mine may decide to simply stay the night there as well, which should make it significantly warmer in atmosphere and easier to psychologically deal with.
My things are still sitting out there, in the middle of the forest, absolutely unattended on what is technically private property. But it's no longer a dark and stormy night, and is instead quite sunny out... which may make a night there much more inviting, whether I am alone or not.
We shall see.
So, in recap, this year, I have:
Graduated,
Hosted a radio show,
Become work-eligible,
Worked my first job,
Risen and fallen in love,
Moved away from home,
Worked 2 more jobs,
Moved back home,
Worked yet another job,
Left town on numerous occasions for absolutely non-linear adventure,
Decided quite a lot,
Learned more about myself than I ever have,
Had my heart broken more than once,
Experienced anxiety,
Experienced depression,
Experienced loss, both first and second-hand,
Met hundreds of incredible people,
Had thousands of intangible, indescribably beautiful and unique moments,
And last, but not least, made an attempt at living in the woods.
I've experienced the peaks and the valleys like never before, and whether it's bad, good, or neutral... it's all be incredibly poetic, and incredibly beautiful.
And I look forward to what my future holds in store, because I know it'll be even greater than all of this; and all of this has been greater than I could have ever imagined.
It's felt like I've lived hundreds of lives in the past year.
In the short amount of time which has elapsed between June of 2011 and this month, April 2012, I have lived more than I have in the past 14 years of my life combined- all within 10 months, the length of an average school-year.
Exactly a year ago, I was still a 17 year-old high-schooler who hadn't really decided to acknowledge that school would ever really end. The idea was far too surreal.
But I had grand ambitions; beyond, it turns out, my immediate ability to satisfy. But my God, did I ever try.
I've learned more in this past year then I ever did in school. More in a real-life context as opposed to intellectual.. although I have soaked up my fair-share of intellectual knowledge as well.
I feel like I've seen the ends of my old Earth; the ends of my conceivable and comprehensible horizons as I ever could have handled fresh out of my high-school life.
In short, here is what has happened to me over the course of this year:
I attended and completed the Bladerunners program, meeting a plethora of interesting figures, some of which were poetically tragic, but still beautifully hopeful in regards to themselves and their futures. I have since heard that many are on the road to lives of satisfaction, which makes me smile inside.
Through the Bladerunners program, I became work-eligible. Immediately following the programs end, I was hired-on to work at Aaron's Vending and Services, my first real job, at which I would spend hours upon hours cleaning water jugs so they could be recycled and reused for local distribution.
Although quite a monotonous job, I learned a lot from it. Both about life, and about myself.
I discovered I would rather not clean water jugs for the rest of my life.
I also hosted my own radio show, titled "Intrigue," every Wednesday from 3:30 to 5 on the local community radio.
Around the same time, I met a girl through a friend of mine. Strangely enough, it was forecasted that we would somehow end-up together, and hence, they made attempts at keeping us apart as so we would never meet.
Inevitably, we ended up meeting under some very strange circumstances. We became friends.
After a little while, we began to like each other. Quite a lot. And eventually, we rose in love with one another. During this time, she lost someone incredibly close to her. This tragedy struck us both quite hard.. her harder, of course. But I honestly discovered true empathy, and I honestly felt her pain with the same lucidity. I learned a lot from it about life and about myself as well. We had a thing together for about a month before we decided to decide what we were. It was quite beautiful. The catch was... she lived on an island 2 ferries and a 4 or 5 hour drive away.
I decided I loved her enough to give long-distance a shot, seeing as I had never tried it before. And I wanted more than anything to be there for her during what was probably the hardest time of her life.
Sometimes, however, when I'm stuck in a pit of self-pity and I feel retrospective, I wonder if she simply loved me because of her loss. I usually realize that didn't feel like the case at all. Although it did complicate things, it was what it was. I suppose it still is what it is.
After making money and simply spending it on trivial commodities such as clothes and other luxuries, I quickly began to realize the value of saving.
The next amount of money I made, I spent on visiting her. I met her family, who I immediately grew a warm fondness for, and explored, for the first time in my life, the Gulf Island of Salt Spring. I absolutely loved it with all of my heart.
Around the same time, September of 2011, the world was changing. Occupy Wall Street was in full-swing, and a full-fledged revolution did not seem at all out of the question. I followed the Occupy movement quite closely, hoping to get involved as some point soon.
In some strange way, it was the Occupy movement that inspired me to cross the first real precipice in my life. For about 2 years, I'd been talking with a friend about the possibility of moving in with him and his mom for a little while to work and get out of Powell River by living in the city.
So I planned, and I organized, and I cut some deals with my dad regarding support money, and near the end of October I gave my 2-weeks notice at Aaron's Vending and started packing my suitcases. I decided I was going to take a detour and visit the city of Victoria on the way to spend Halloween with some good friends of mine who were attending University. My girlfriend was also doing the same thing, which was what caused me to disregard my fathers practical advice and take the detour regardless.
So I spent about 3 or 4 days in Victoria, visiting with some friends I hadn't seen since the end of the summer months, and whose absences had really caused the fact of graduation to somewhat dismally sink-in. Immediately, I fell in love with the city. This love later led to my decision to live there this coming September.
My girlfriend and I became closer and closer, rising more and more in love. I hadn't felt this way about anyone before, because Osho's idea of 'rising' was a brand-new concept to both her and I. But I very much liked it. There was an incredible moment of depth and connection during the Halloween DDP (Decentralized Dance Party) in which we simply stared into each others eyes smiling like love-struck idiots before falling into a sort of dance-kiss while girls and guys dressed in full-body spandex weaved throughout the crowd with boom-boxes propped on their shoulders blasting Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" while the entire crowd sung along en-masse. It was a true Holy Moment, and I still remember it with a deep and warm fondness.
I remember, as well, weaving through the thinly-crowded streets with a best friend of mine, a famous DJ in the works, visiting obscure and well-hidden thrift shops and surplus stores with clothes which were, in some strange way, hard to believe existed in the first place. Something about the thrift vibe and the kind of clothes we encountered had this beautiful genuineness you could never get purchasing from the likes of Wal-Mart or the Gap.
Finally, I stepped-on to the ferry with my to-be room-mate (who had also decided to be in Victoria for Halloween) and headed for my new home on the Lower Mainland in the suburban city of Port Coquitlam.
I missed Victoria almost as soon as the ferry began to depart.
And I remember the poetic departure of my girlfriend, who got so caught-up in a separate ferry line-up, that we didn't have a chance to physically say good-bye.
The ferry pulled-in to the Tsawwassen terminal on the other side of the Georgia Straight, and my friend and I hitched with my aunt and uncle, who had kindly agreed to give us a ride the day before.
The car weaved through the sky-scraped skylines and the flat suburbias until we reached Port Coquitlam. Billboards plastered the highways and Esso gas-stations were to be found every second block. The immediate vibe I got was one I decided not to take at face-value.
We finally pulled-in to the quaint little driveway of my new home, and my friends mom stood at the doorway to greet us as I bid my aunt and uncle farewell, promising to visit them while I was down here.
She kindly welcomed me in and showed me to my room. It was a warmly colored room with a friendly vibe, and a rainbow fan that hung on the ceiling poetically welcoming me to the Lower Mainland; where the whole spectrum resides.
Although still distraught from the profound adjustment, I decided then and there to make it a priority to visit Downtown Vancouver as often as possible.
And that's exactly what I did.
Purchasing a 3-zone bus-pass with the support money my dad wired to my account a couple of days later, I immediately went to visit the Occupy Vancouver encampment. I partook in a General Assembly and met more ideas than I did people.
And they were incredibly creative and valuable ideas.
I aimlessly wandered the streets of Vancouver, stopping at a Starbucks here and there, and had a few interesting city encounters with people I have never again seen since. Nor do I ever expect to see them again.
After a week of exploring and adjustment, I was charged with the task of finding a job.
So, for the next 2 weeks, that's what I focused on, yet to no avail. I began losing hope, and when my father announced that if I didn't have a job within 2 more weeks I would have to return home, I attended a job-fair in Burnaby with no immediate success, and as such, decided to stoop to the lowest level I have ever stooped and applied to McDonald's.
Most of my very being had my fingers crossed hoping they wouldn't call back.
Of course, as irony would have it, they called 2 hours later and asked if I was available for an interview on the upcoming Saturday. 2 days later, one of the employers I had applied with at the Burnaby job-fair called; the Lids hat-store in Metrotown Mall. They didn't ask for an interview of any sort, and simply asked at what point I could start.
I later found out that, of the 60 something people that applied for the same job, only me and girl around the same age had been chosen. That very much flattered me, but regardless, I still wished they had called before McDonald's had.
I had a feeling I wouldn't need to dress-up for an interview at a fast-food restaurant.. especially not one so 'esteemed' as McDonald's.. but my room-mates mom (and I suppose, in some strange way, my 'legal guardian') was fixed on the idea of dressing me up nice for this interview. So that's exactly what she did.
It felt uncomfortable and strange.
So, that Saturday, with a torrent of rain falling from the sky outside, I tucked my resume under my jacket and walked to the bus-stop.
Each bus that passed stopped, informed me it was full, and asked me kindly to wait for the next bus. After this scenario repeated itself 3 or 4 times, I swore under my breath and decided I had to walk it if I was going to make it in time. So I did.
With mud splatting onto the back of my dress-pants with every step I took, I marched as fast as I could.
At one point, I decided to make sure my resume was still safely tucked under my coat.
It wasn't.
Panicking, I looked behind me and saw it floating in muddy puddle. At this point, I assumed there was no way I was getting the job. I picked it up, now scrunched and soaking, and kept walking.
Eventually, now soaking wet and upset, I made it to the McDonald's.
I asked if Stan, who I was supposed to be interviewed by, was around.
They then informed me this was the wrong McDonald's, and the McDonald's I was looking for was part of a newly-build Wal-Mart shopping center about a half-hour walk from there.
Now I felt doubly sure the job wasn't mine.
However, strangely enough, the assistant manager of this particular McDonald's informed me he was heading to the Wal-Mart shopping center right now anyways, and offered me a ride, which I quite avidly took as a last hope. He drove me there safe and sound, and along the way he described how he had started as a batch-cook in the company and had stuck with them long enough to become an assistant manager. Something about his story of 'success' was beyond depressing.
It felt like a lack of natural human ambition in my mind.
So I got to the interview an hour and a half late, caked in mud, soaking wet, and with only a single resume that was muddy, scrunched, and damp. When I asked him if he wanted me to give him another resume the next chance I get, he kindly declined, chuckled at the fact that I had dressed-up for this interview, and gave me the job on the spot.
Two feelings arose at this point. One of elation at having got the job.. and one of deflation at how low the standards were here. And what the hell I had just gotten myself into.
To skip forward, I worked at this particular McDonald's for about 2 and a half months. As well, I worked at Lids most weekends as well, and was lucky if I got one day off per week.
But I was certainly raking in the cash.
At the same time, I had my girlfriend come up and visit at least once a month, and managed, on a couple of occasions, to feign sickness as so I didn't have to attend work during her stay.
Her and I explored Downtown Vancouver, and both of us fell in deep love with Granville Island. I had already fallen in love with Granville on multiple occasions, but it would always renew itself with every visit. She visited after Occupy Vancouver's eviction from the Art Gallery, so attendance, sadly, wasn't an option.
I remember during one visit, I had to work for 5 hours in the evening. She sweetly wished to tag-along, and despite her feet becoming soaked during the walk to work, and slipping in mud and snow at one point, she still decided to stick it out. I remember feeling so deeply in love with her that night.
She simply walked up and down the isles of the Wal-Mart for 5 hours straight, purchasing some new shoes and socks so her feet would be dry and suitably ready for the snow and mud outside. Near the end of my shift, she simply sat on a bench across the way and smiled at me sweetly as I cleaned the lobby.
I smiled back and felt our energies connect.
Another Holy Moment, in a strange place, at a strange time, under strange circumstances.
I really enjoyed working at Lids. All I would do is chat with people, let them know about the current deals, and get this beautiful and poetic insight into their lives if they felt so inclined to chat. It was this job that made me realize customer service was where I belonged, at least in a career aspect.
During all of this, I was missing home more and more, and due to my girlfriends grief over her still recent loss and my deep empathy regarding it, I was beginning to become depressed.
It wasn't until I was slated to do a week of night-shift at McDonald's during the lead-up to Christmas that the camels back really broke.
It threw me off entirely in all aspects. And near the end of the week, I also had to work day-shift at Lids.
I was beyond exhausted.
Finally, after I got-off work at Lids on Christmas eve around 4 PM, my mom (who was down visiting from Powell River) picked me up from Metrotown Mall, and we headed off to my aunts house in Ladner.
At one point, I stood-up from my chair, and all of a sudden every muscle in my calves seized-up, causing me to collapse to the ground in excruciating pain.
My eczema, as well, was worse then it had been a couple of years ago on my feet.
So I lay there in brutal pain, and my mom grabbed an 'emergency banana,' which did indeed save me due to the help of potassium.
After a couple more hours, I apologized to everyone and simply went to bed.
During all of this, and due to my falling into depression for a plethora of different reasons, I began to rely more and more on my girlfriend for feelings of security and a semblance of happiness. It was slowly slipping into co-dependency, and as opposed to rising in love, I was now falling.
She fell to a degree as well, but the pressure I was placing on her when she was already dealing with so much caused her to stop and re-asses the whole situation with a clearer head than I could conjure.
So, the relationship from that point on began to deteriorate. Rather slowly, yes, but nonetheless.
My health, too, began to deteriorate as a result of all the stress (much of it self-perpetuated). I woke-up one morning with my ears ringing, and in some way, shape, or form, they have been ringing since. I have also experienced vertigo (usually brought-on by severe stress) and jaw-clicking, ear-popping, and general pain in and around the ears and jaw.
I have since discovered it is probably the result of TMJ (Tempo-mandibular Joint Disorder) and is definitely treatable. Sadly; braces may be the only way to treat it, and my orthodontic coverage under my fathers plan runs out as soon as I am 19 on June 1st, so regardless of when I start my treatment, I will be the one who will have to pay a majority of the $6000 required to purchase and sustain braces. However... I have an appointment on May 9th to assess what needs to be done, and other options may be available. We will see.
I took a few days off from work to go spend New Years Eve in Powell River with my friends and family. My girlfriend, too, was going up for reasons of visiting me, as well as spending New Years with some mutual friends of ours. It felt incredibly good to get away, and I believe this return visit is what sparked my inspiration to return home for my own good, which I did about 26 days later after quitting both of my jobs, packing up, bidding my friend and his mom goodbye, and applying to a few jobs.
Before I had even left, I had an interview lined-up with the local A&W for February 1st. In my mind, at the time, it was certainly an upgrade from McDonald's, no matter how slight.
Upon my return, I had about a week or so to just doddle around, jobless, and attempt to re-center myself once again. I half-heartedly searched for jobs elsewhere, but I had a strong feeling that A&W was going to work out. Which it did.
My girlfriend came up to visit around the beginning of February, and it was the first time I'd seen her since a couple of days after New Years (after which she caught a bus back down to the Lower Mainland with me so we could spend some time together).
Everything seemed quite beautifully pristine between us, but the distance was now truly starting to get to me.
This visit would be her last. It was the last time we physically spent together before the break-up, which occurred, entirely out of the blue, the day after Valentines. She explained what I had neglected to notice, and how she could not healthily function in a relationship right now. For the next month, it would be heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak between us.
We made attempts and being 'friends in love,' in which there was no goal or direction; simply this relationship right now. No obligation, nothing.
We broke-up 2 or 3 more times, but it wasn't until my little road-trip to Victoria that it truly ended with pure finality.
I hadn't been going to the city with the intention to visit her, and I had no clue she would also be in town at the same time. When I found out she was also going in order to visit a best friend of hers, it was certainly added to my list of things 'to-do' while down there. I had to figure out what was going on between us at this point.
The trip to Victoria was an incredible adventure. I met-up with a best friend of mine in Nanaimo, stayed the night at her house, and hitch-hiked from there to Victoria with her. We got a ride with a strange man. one of his arms was in a cast, and one of his legs seemed crippled, hence he walked with a crutch.
He told us it was because he had just got some of his bones grafted after some sort of brutal accident.
He seemed to be in his 40's or 50's, and he listened to bands such as Avenged Sevenfold. Although it was obvious to my friend and I that we weren't the biggest fans of this kind of music, there was some sort of subconscious agreement that we should pretend to be as a form of thanks to this man for giving us a ride.
It was a bit of a concerning situation, as I spotted a condom in his cup-holder, absolutely unhidden. As soon as he told us we were taking a pit-stop, both my friend and I had our fingers crossed hoping to God or Allah or Jesus or Buddah he was going to stop in someplace populated.
He did, and all we ended up doing was stopping at the Mill City A&W for some lunch and a bathroom break.
He got us all the way to Victoria safe and sound, letting us off at the Mayfair Center. We bid him farewell and thanked him for the ride, and I believe we both felt bad about having judged him in a sense that suggested he was a 'creepy old man.' He had probably picked us up because he felt lonely, and had wanted someone to talk to.
That same night, we attended a party, and my ex was present. She confused me, as one minute she would ignore me, the next she would chat with me or put her legs upon my lap.
Finally, out of hurt and anger, I asked her what was going on between us and she told me she was simply trying to 'keep it platonic.'
We decided to take a walk and sort things out, neglecting the party for most of the night.
This walk was a great festival of tears, brutal truths, final hand-holdings, hugs, anguished rants, and one last kiss.
It was absolutely over between us.
I spent the next couple of days hanging close to a couple guy friends of mine, ranting and ranting and ranting, trying to get it all off of my chest but to no avail. I tried to appeal to her for one last goodbye, but she declined, opting instead to drop-by my friends dorm with the rest of my stuff and share one last hug goodbye.
No more rants, no more appeals, no more anything.
A couple of days later, I discovered that she slept with a guy about my age that same night that she met at a party. This information quite literally felt like it blew my mind when I heard it. I felt dizzy, unreal, and disoriented.
I felt angry, and heartbroken, and worthless because I had never believed myself to be so expendable.
But it did help with moving on in the sense that there was certainly nothing else to appeal to anymore.
The night following, there was a large dance party on the University of Victoria campus. A good friend of mine and I decided to try and get some girls. At first, I wanted to get laid in order to get even... but later decided that was too petty and, in many ways, self-destructive. I decided to try for it anyways, but not in order to get even with anyone. So we played wing-man, using the fact that I host a radio-show as a great opening line. A few girls quickly gravitated to us, and we both ended-up having a good night making out with a couple of attractive strangers. However... we didn't go so far as sleeping with them, as circumstance got in the way.
I wrote a long blogpost about the break-up that vented my anger through pure honesty as soon as I made it back home to Powell River. Confused at why her doing such a thing would hurt me or cause me to be as angry as I was, she felt insulted by the fact that I had blogged about what had occurred, which lead to further aftermath drama, which in turn, led to one last blogpost in which I vented my anger through pure honesty. Which once again insulted her.
But letting it all out really did help, regardless.
I later found out that she ended-up having a thing with this guy that she slept with, and although it bothered me at first, it didn't surprise me. I was more heartbroken at the fact that she didn't understand what she did wrong.
I spent the next couple of months working at A&W, hosting the radio show with a couple of good friends, and slowly developing a deep animosity for my job and the entire fast-food industry.
I began spending every shift I had planning-out what I would need to get and what I would need to do to live in the woods out north of town in Lund. I scouted an ideal place to camp, and my broken-heart was healing, therefore giving more room to ambition and hope for the future and the present.
I began making weekly trips out to Lund on my days off to apply for jobs. Three opportunities presented themselves, and one of them I will be starting this weekend at Nancy's Bakery for two four-hour training shifts on Saturday and Sunday.
So, last week, I gave my two-weeks notice at A&W, purchased over $200 worth of camping supplies, decided to neglect the rest of my shifts at work on Monday (which I would still technically be working if I hadn't decided to simply leave), and got a ride out yesterday to setup out north and begin living in the woods.
However, last night was a failure to launch.
I was out there.. setup and everything.. and I was basically doing nothing but napping (after the friend of mine that drove me out there left) because of the rain. But I just had this deep, deep anxiety while I was trying to sleep at a few points, like I had put myself into this dismally impossible situation, and the rain just wouldn't let me sleep. perhaps I hit it at the wrong time, and I'm not sure if this was a failure, or just a failure to launch. I'm still contemplating just using it to crash in while I'm working at Nancy's Bakery and every other day just coming back out to town.. and working towards working and boarding at the Lund Hotel until the possibility of renting a place (which has been alluded to quite a few times by a good friend of mine) materializes. I basically got so anxious, I simply grabbed a few things and a flashlight, walked to the Lund main drag, and called my mom. She called a cab and she wants me to pay for half of it. It was an absolutely crazy night.
Tonight, I am heading out to Lund once again. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to make another attempt at staying the night or not, but a friend of mine may decide to simply stay the night there as well, which should make it significantly warmer in atmosphere and easier to psychologically deal with.
My things are still sitting out there, in the middle of the forest, absolutely unattended on what is technically private property. But it's no longer a dark and stormy night, and is instead quite sunny out... which may make a night there much more inviting, whether I am alone or not.
We shall see.
So, in recap, this year, I have:
Graduated,
Hosted a radio show,
Become work-eligible,
Worked my first job,
Risen and fallen in love,
Moved away from home,
Worked 2 more jobs,
Moved back home,
Worked yet another job,
Left town on numerous occasions for absolutely non-linear adventure,
Decided quite a lot,
Learned more about myself than I ever have,
Had my heart broken more than once,
Experienced anxiety,
Experienced depression,
Experienced loss, both first and second-hand,
Met hundreds of incredible people,
Had thousands of intangible, indescribably beautiful and unique moments,
And last, but not least, made an attempt at living in the woods.
I've experienced the peaks and the valleys like never before, and whether it's bad, good, or neutral... it's all be incredibly poetic, and incredibly beautiful.
And I look forward to what my future holds in store, because I know it'll be even greater than all of this; and all of this has been greater than I could have ever imagined.
Monday, April 16, 2012
On Housing and Social Empathy
Earlier today, I posted an obviously controversial status via Facebook. It read:
"Why do we have to pay to live in a house? Whose labor are we employing when we pay our monthly dues to a landlord or mortgage broker? It's not like food, which requires labor to harvest and distribute. It's not like electricity, which requires labor to spread. It's just a fuckin' house or apartment, that's just fuckin' sits there and someone makes money off of it at your expense. I don't understand this world."
This is the debate that followed:
C.B.: Someone worked to buy the house though, just as someone worked to build it and was compensated for their labour by the owner.
The landlord and the mortgage broker have to pay rent too.
Me: and it's just a giant pyramid scheme that runs itself in circles around nothing. People should be paying as much for a house as it takes to build, and then based on the materials used to build it, and no more. There shouldn't be this cycle of a 'lack of responsibility.' Renting should be somewhat like hitch-hiking in my opinion. The only thing the rentee should be paying for is his or her part of the electricity, internet, phone, and cable bill. But we have this great big system that puts a landlord into debt, so they have to extort someone else in order to pay it off.. if houses were priced at the amount they took to build, and the type of materials etc etc.. there would be no such thing as mortgages unless your buying a giant mansion on a middle-class income.
J.B.: So, today I learned contractors and tradesmen don't need money and owners should give their houses away as well as abandon their businesses.
P.K.: Houses are indeed already priced at the amount they cost to build.Raw materials is a small fraction of the price. You also have:
1) Land value
2) Engineering (can't build the thing if it's going to end up falling over and killing everybody inside, now can you?)
3) Carpenters, Electricians, and other tradesmen
4) Transportation for materials
5) Utility interconnection
6) Safety inspections
7) PermittingThese things all cost a lot of money. As it turns out, the bulk of the population is willing to go into debt in order to have a nice, modern home, and that's why it works.
D.E.: You know Peter is right about that. Still, at the risk of sounding New Age-y, there is a lot of sustainable housing made mainly of organic matter that is very cheap to build. Some can also be easily insulated, withstand most weather anomalies, running plumbing and electricity is easier and they look neat.
Me: J.B., I wasn't trying to say that's what home owners should do at this moment in time. The system we've designed is far too convoluted to do so, and that's the point I'm making. There's no responsibility; it's always someone owing someone something somewhere. You can't be a rentee and go to the home-owner and say, "it's not fair that you make me pay more than my utilities," because the home-owner will be correct and only fair in saying, "well, I owe the mortgage brokers money, so regardless of what you think I should charge, I'm in no position to simply charge you for nothing but utilities."
In a truly humanistic system, however.. once a home-owner actually OWNS the home, and no longer owes anyone else money.. why not simply rent out a place and charge only for utilities and any potential damage or mess that is made by the rentee? Forcing them to start paying you despite your lack of debt is just ridiculous. It's like clearing a boulder from the path. Sure, you may have been the one who worked hard to move the boulder.. but it doesn't make sense to push the boulder back into the middle of the road and tell someone that because you had to move it, so do they. That's just fucking ridiculous.
M.P.: Just a few things to add to your list of things in their world that need fixing Kyran: We should have unlimited resources, always have sunny weather (but none of the related problems), no diseases, not have to work and immortality. I mean, it just makes no sense that we don't have this things? Must just be because humans are corrupt.
Me: wait.. when did I say any of those things?
M.P.: You didn't, I felt that your list of things that need fixing was incomplete so I added a few for you.
Me: Haha, you're trying to polarize my argument by sensationalizing it. That's pretty condescending, dude.
And I guess what my argument comes down to, P.K... is that no one should own land. Nobody puts labor in to build the land, yet we still feel the impulse to monetize what is there regardless. But I do understand why the labor involved in building a home of any sort should be compensated for monetarily.
M.P.: I think you already sensationalized it. Unless I missed something, you said that people should go through the mountains of work, headaches and money to build and own a house just so as soon as they can break even and then give away the house to someone else to live in for absolutely no incentive, and that it should be a normal thing to do. That is either sensationalism or glasses so rose tinted that they are closer to a blindfold.
Wow that was terribly written. Long day, my apologies.
C.B.: Surely incentives exist that aren't monetary in nature, Mason.
Me: Not everything can, nor should be boiled down to the abstract symbolic value of money. Although it may have it's place, it should not be the be-all and end-all which we see it by in our society.
M.P.: Of course there are, but monetary is the one that makes sense in the context of housing the 7 billion people on this world. Do you really think that a society bigger than a community of a few dozen people could ever work just by giving away houses because everyone convinced the homeowners that it'd be a swell thing to do?
C.B.: Each larger society is made up of those smaller communities, which are made up of individuals.
Me: Actually.. it would probably assist the 7 billion people in the world.. because.. you know. They'll actually be able to live somewhere, regardless of their income.
C.B.: Systemic change is not always best implemented on a systemic level, but on an individual level. Good ideas catch on quite easily, even bad ones do apparently.
Me: And everybody has got to start seeing outside the box of the 'system' and 'what's in it for me' and all that bullshit. That's such a filtered and cold way to think. Why not forward the REAL common good, and start helping people out as best you can on an individual level?
M.P.: It's a shame then, C.B., that [most] people do not at all behave like individuals. We are social creatures. Not loners, not herds. Kyran, if nobody paid rent or to buy preexisting houses, chances are nobody would make any more new houses because they'd just try and grab one that already existed. besides, what's so wrong with paying money for a house anyways? Money is a measure of a contribution to society. Building a house is a large contribution to society, so is letting people live in your house. You should be rewarded for that.
Me: "chances are nobody would make any more new houses because they'd just try and grab one that already existed." I don't see what's wrong with that. Certainly cuts down on costs, used materials, and space.
M.P.: Well, people grabbing the already existing houses works if the population isn't changing and houses don't experience wear and tear, neither of which is true.
The debate is ongoing, and more content will be added as it becomes available.
"Why do we have to pay to live in a house? Whose labor are we employing when we pay our monthly dues to a landlord or mortgage broker? It's not like food, which requires labor to harvest and distribute. It's not like electricity, which requires labor to spread. It's just a fuckin' house or apartment, that's just fuckin' sits there and someone makes money off of it at your expense. I don't understand this world."
This is the debate that followed:
C.B.: Someone worked to buy the house though, just as someone worked to build it and was compensated for their labour by the owner.
The landlord and the mortgage broker have to pay rent too.
Me: and it's just a giant pyramid scheme that runs itself in circles around nothing. People should be paying as much for a house as it takes to build, and then based on the materials used to build it, and no more. There shouldn't be this cycle of a 'lack of responsibility.' Renting should be somewhat like hitch-hiking in my opinion. The only thing the rentee should be paying for is his or her part of the electricity, internet, phone, and cable bill. But we have this great big system that puts a landlord into debt, so they have to extort someone else in order to pay it off.. if houses were priced at the amount they took to build, and the type of materials etc etc.. there would be no such thing as mortgages unless your buying a giant mansion on a middle-class income.
J.B.: So, today I learned contractors and tradesmen don't need money and owners should give their houses away as well as abandon their businesses.
P.K.: Houses are indeed already priced at the amount they cost to build.Raw materials is a small fraction of the price. You also have:
1) Land value
2) Engineering (can't build the thing if it's going to end up falling over and killing everybody inside, now can you?)
3) Carpenters, Electricians, and other tradesmen
4) Transportation for materials
5) Utility interconnection
6) Safety inspections
7) PermittingThese things all cost a lot of money. As it turns out, the bulk of the population is willing to go into debt in order to have a nice, modern home, and that's why it works.
D.E.: You know Peter is right about that. Still, at the risk of sounding New Age-y, there is a lot of sustainable housing made mainly of organic matter that is very cheap to build. Some can also be easily insulated, withstand most weather anomalies, running plumbing and electricity is easier and they look neat.
Me: J.B., I wasn't trying to say that's what home owners should do at this moment in time. The system we've designed is far too convoluted to do so, and that's the point I'm making. There's no responsibility; it's always someone owing someone something somewhere. You can't be a rentee and go to the home-owner and say, "it's not fair that you make me pay more than my utilities," because the home-owner will be correct and only fair in saying, "well, I owe the mortgage brokers money, so regardless of what you think I should charge, I'm in no position to simply charge you for nothing but utilities."
In a truly humanistic system, however.. once a home-owner actually OWNS the home, and no longer owes anyone else money.. why not simply rent out a place and charge only for utilities and any potential damage or mess that is made by the rentee? Forcing them to start paying you despite your lack of debt is just ridiculous. It's like clearing a boulder from the path. Sure, you may have been the one who worked hard to move the boulder.. but it doesn't make sense to push the boulder back into the middle of the road and tell someone that because you had to move it, so do they. That's just fucking ridiculous.
M.P.: Just a few things to add to your list of things in their world that need fixing Kyran: We should have unlimited resources, always have sunny weather (but none of the related problems), no diseases, not have to work and immortality. I mean, it just makes no sense that we don't have this things? Must just be because humans are corrupt.
Me: wait.. when did I say any of those things?
M.P.: You didn't, I felt that your list of things that need fixing was incomplete so I added a few for you.
Me: Haha, you're trying to polarize my argument by sensationalizing it. That's pretty condescending, dude.
And I guess what my argument comes down to, P.K... is that no one should own land. Nobody puts labor in to build the land, yet we still feel the impulse to monetize what is there regardless. But I do understand why the labor involved in building a home of any sort should be compensated for monetarily.
M.P.: I think you already sensationalized it. Unless I missed something, you said that people should go through the mountains of work, headaches and money to build and own a house just so as soon as they can break even and then give away the house to someone else to live in for absolutely no incentive, and that it should be a normal thing to do. That is either sensationalism or glasses so rose tinted that they are closer to a blindfold.
Wow that was terribly written. Long day, my apologies.
C.B.: Surely incentives exist that aren't monetary in nature, Mason.
Me: Not everything can, nor should be boiled down to the abstract symbolic value of money. Although it may have it's place, it should not be the be-all and end-all which we see it by in our society.
M.P.: Of course there are, but monetary is the one that makes sense in the context of housing the 7 billion people on this world. Do you really think that a society bigger than a community of a few dozen people could ever work just by giving away houses because everyone convinced the homeowners that it'd be a swell thing to do?
C.B.: Each larger society is made up of those smaller communities, which are made up of individuals.
Me: Actually.. it would probably assist the 7 billion people in the world.. because.. you know. They'll actually be able to live somewhere, regardless of their income.
C.B.: Systemic change is not always best implemented on a systemic level, but on an individual level. Good ideas catch on quite easily, even bad ones do apparently.
Me: And everybody has got to start seeing outside the box of the 'system' and 'what's in it for me' and all that bullshit. That's such a filtered and cold way to think. Why not forward the REAL common good, and start helping people out as best you can on an individual level?
M.P.: It's a shame then, C.B., that [most] people do not at all behave like individuals. We are social creatures. Not loners, not herds. Kyran, if nobody paid rent or to buy preexisting houses, chances are nobody would make any more new houses because they'd just try and grab one that already existed. besides, what's so wrong with paying money for a house anyways? Money is a measure of a contribution to society. Building a house is a large contribution to society, so is letting people live in your house. You should be rewarded for that.
Me: "chances are nobody would make any more new houses because they'd just try and grab one that already existed." I don't see what's wrong with that. Certainly cuts down on costs, used materials, and space.
M.P.: Well, people grabbing the already existing houses works if the population isn't changing and houses don't experience wear and tear, neither of which is true.
The debate is ongoing, and more content will be added as it becomes available.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
The Voluntary Insomniac
I am the
Voluntary insomniac.
I suffer from no such misfortune.
Midnight to 3 is a blessing,
At night, I'm reality's surgeon.
Delving head-first into current events,
And philosophies of East and of West;
Jack Kerouac and Jean Paul-Sarte have me sweating;
And I look forward to Alan Watts next.
Lets discover it all!
How exciting it is,
I've been privileged as I am alive.
I read and I write,
Walk dark streets on some nights,
And on others,
I lay and watch stars.
I am the
Voluntary insomniac.
On some nights I sit and sip tea,
Read Al-Jazeera's new headlines,
And depart upon intellects sea.
In the depth of the night I become everything;
Every person, every move, every sound.
Every taste, every touch, every feeling, every thought,
I am the stars, the ocean, the ground.
In the present I become the future and past
And explore the great misunderstood;
Everything becomes clear as my boat starts to steer,
And my feet waver from where they once stood.
And on every sweet night, it doesn't matter how far
My ship crossed infinity's sea,
I am lost on open water forever;
I adventure eternally.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Block Bay
Serendipity had be trickling
Down to the bottom of the well.
Rise and fall and rise and fall
Inseparable like Heaven and Hell.
The peaks and valleys,
Miscounted tallies,
And words that seem to spell
"L O V E S disguise"
My lack of words is the loudest I yell.
Speak to trees that see through me
With eyes so blank, yet full;
I run my fingers through my hair,
The wind pushes and pulls.
A rainy day down at Block Bay
Feels nice, despite the cold.
I am one with the lake and mountains;
I am infinitely old.
The industrial wharf is bobbing
Up and down again;
Rise and fall and rise and fall,
The peaks and valleys,
Miscounted tallies,
And words that seem to spell
"L O V E S disguise"
Everywhere is where I dwell.
Down to the bottom of the well.
Rise and fall and rise and fall
Inseparable like Heaven and Hell.
The peaks and valleys,
Miscounted tallies,
And words that seem to spell
"L O V E S disguise"
My lack of words is the loudest I yell.
Speak to trees that see through me
With eyes so blank, yet full;
I run my fingers through my hair,
The wind pushes and pulls.
A rainy day down at Block Bay
Feels nice, despite the cold.
I am one with the lake and mountains;
I am infinitely old.
The industrial wharf is bobbing
Up and down again;
Rise and fall and rise and fall,
The All and Every in it's zen.
The peaks and valleys,
Miscounted tallies,
And words that seem to spell
"L O V E S disguise"
Everywhere is where I dwell.
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