Ethical Treatment of Self

Orbital path leads me round the stack of potential futures. The conundrum of throwing away the blueprints, years in the making, is still a paramount feature of my resistance. What does it mean to be? As if waxing philosophical about the lot I've sowed will bring relief.

Like a moth to a flame,
I'll never learn;
Again and again
In vain I burn.



We didn't get the place. We didn't even apply, as the den was big enough for, perhaps, a bed. Now there are no two-bedroom places in town for less than a grand. It's going to be insane trying to find a place for November, let alone the fifteenth.

My family are in town this weekend to visit my grandfather, who is in palliative care. I can't deal with everything going on right now, so I'm ignoring the most important things in my life so that I feel fine. Desensitized. Ignorant to the red calendar circles and egdewise conscience.

However strangely, happy also.

Home Economics

So this is a pre-emptive post, I just can't hide my anxiety/excitement about this prospect.

There's this place on Yates Street that sounds like a dream.

The downside is it's going to cost $550/month to live in. Not that that is expensive by this city's standards. And, I did just get an $0.80 raise. Then there's the fact that my current rent is $200 less than that.

Oh, the inconveniences of moving. Yet, the prospect is too much to take.

I've sent the manager an email and left a phone message, but the place just got up on craigslist.com today at 4:00pm, so I hope it isn't yet gone. K.L. and I are calling tomorrow morning to set up a viewing, hopefully an immediate one.

I really want this place. Rooftop patio with fireplace. Scenic downtown views. Literal steps from the heart and core of the city. Dishwasher.

These are the manifold attractions of our prospective apartment. K.L. and I have been hunting, DAILY, checking the classifieds and postings online looking for anything remotely close to what we want. This is exactly what we want. I will be seriously heartbroken if this one doesn't pan out. So close to the end of the month, and it's available IMMEDIATELY.

I've done all I can to try to do my readings tonight but I can't focus. I wish it was 7:30AM right now so I could get up, shower and call the lady so that we're the first to snatch it.

Oh god, I hope it isn't gone. Really, like I'm exhausted with searching. Anyone reading this -- pray for me. Pray, even though god doesn't exist.

How To Survive A Plane Crash

1. Fasten seatbelt
2. Let the flow of oxygen numb your mind.
3. Throw away your worldly cares for objects, people, and ambitions.
4. Relax your body entirely.
5. Prepare for the onset of death; oblivion; the Afterlife -- whatever beliefs you hold of the shadowy mystery that lies beyond life.
6. Upon impact, do not brace yourself.
7. Watch in silent serenity your life's story.
8. Allow your body to smash forward into the front seat, hearing the awful screeching crash and twisting metal, watching the entrails from passengers near you splattering against the windows as they expire amidst blackened smoke and hot fire.
9. Bruised and worse-for-wear, you've been preserved by becoming one with your descending vessel of doom, relaxing and allowing Death to come.
10. For those who expect it do not respect it -- and respect for Death is his natural repellant.

Neuron Perdition

My life seems to be more full than I'd like. I think it all started when I dropped my camera. Incidentally, it's the same time I started this blog. (Look to my first entry if you don't believe)

Surprisingly, I am caught up in the readings. Got 95% on my first quiz. Am lamenting the 5% I lost... I think I need to go easier on myself. I got accepted into co-op too. Now let's just hope I can find a decent job, locally... otherwise in the next sevenmonth I ought to be making preparations for moving. This would make moving out with K.L. so much more benefical. If I'm not self-sufficient now it'll be that much more of a shock to my system later.

My grandfather is in the hospital. Has had lung cancer for five years and this is the first time my grandmother has called me at 11:00 at night.

The Poet Swift

Life happens quickly.
Events conspire, and grow overnight like a damp petri dish.

The Decemberists are playing in Seattle in (ha-ha) December. I desperately want to go, but current financial forecasts tell of a hard winter ahead.

So that thing that I didn't mention in the previous, previous entry? Yeah, you're going to hear it now.

I'm moving out.

The Boy and I are still together. Stitched together, roughly and in good need of a proper seamstress -- but I really think that leaving will solve everything. I think we'll be better if we're apart for a while... it'll force us to take time with each other instead of co-existing. I think moving out is exactly what I need.

(I wish I could commit to that last sentence with a full heart. I know the truth of its words, at least, my mind does. I blame astrology for my indecision. It seems like a great idea seeing as I have no idea how I would fare independently in the world. I think I need this before I become to old to enjoy being poor.)

Neo already knew, before I told The Boy. I don't want this household to fall apart, I love living next to the cheesy-sounding Swan Lake. I love having a backyard, a decent neighbourhood. I love being close to work and en-route to school.

But there's this totally other part of me that wants to be free, live in a grungy apartment with K.L. and walk downtown every day for coffee. To be close to the vital organs of this amazing city that I've come to call home. To be closer to the artistic spirit inside me that keeps begging for a place to let loose. I think to do that I need to get out of this cycle, to stop caring about domestic life and start enjoying creative strife.

R.I.P. "Fish"

Cassiopeia Phi Centaury
(August 20, 2005 -- September 7, 2007)

Explodingdog.com posted this today. I thought it was a suiting illustration.

That fish had a good life.

The Insomnia Theory

Ground says he can see my mind racing. If I'm that transparent to him, how can I hide it from anyone else?


K.L. and I met up downtown the other day. We walked past the Sunday market to hit up the delicious iced mochas in Chinatown. We watched some martial arts demos performed in the street amidst hungry tourists. Eventually we found our way to the water walkways, across bridges and through blackberry thickets. Hopping fences and climbing prickly hillsides -- all for the sake of adventure. We did a lot of talking about things I may mention in a future entry. It's nice to know someone is in the same boat as I. Unfortunately, I feel hard-pressed to make a decision before this window-of-oppourtunity closes... and the Libra in me is naturally inable.



Although K.L. is a Libra too. So is Ground. Maybe that's why they're more sympathetic to my mind's idle jive. Strange how K.L is so able to make it work almost without effort... when all I have is doubt, fear, and uncertainty.


On Saturday Rainbow took me to the Jellyfish Lounge. It was very sophisticated, a few blacklights coupled with red-and-blue lighting. Some white leather couches, LCD flatscreen videos of marine life, and bubble displays. We met up with a few different people downtown, some by accident. A party of about ten ended up at the Jellyfish, where we drank martinis and ate crème brulée cheesecake.

Yesterday I met up with Blondie. Pilot was supposed to come too, but she had to fly that morning. Blondie and I reminisced about highschool and what it would be like to have a PG-reunion for those of us now living in Victoria. It's interesting to see how much her and I have become the same since our childhood friendship, despite the years in highschool that we never spoke to each other. The world is full of surprises.

Vanity Research

First day of classes tomorrow.
Second day without cigarettes.
The worst won't be over for a few more.

For those who don't know what a vanity search is, have you ever googled your name?

It's interesting how many footprints we leave over the internet. Luckily, I usually cover mine -- the blog I had for five years is in smoldering ruins as I type. Paranoid... me?

Things written in teenage ignorance are too embarrassing to keep. I'm sure in five years I'll trash this too, thinking I was a silly twentysomething. It's an interesting thought.

Moral of the story: stop posting drunk pictures of yourself on Facebook. I've recently fell victim to the rumour that it is run by the CIA, and that in all likelihood they catalog the website every six months. Could come in handy if years down the professional line they need to ruin you in the media. I've already seen Facebook quoted or used as a source in a handful of news briefs.

---Sorry. I almost threw up there. Next we'll all be using Wikipedia as a scholarly source.

Beetlegeuse is back in town. Nineteen on Thursday. What a fantastic night to get drunk! I can't wait to announce the gift I've got for her.... until then, secrecy remains...

It seems lately my social life has begun to bustle. Strange, after such a long hiatus without much company aside from The Boy and Neo. Even they've been distant lately... living in the same house must not be enough to promote conversation and fraternity.

K.L. and I are meeting for a quick coffee on Friday. Ebsedtha and I are doing sushi tomorrow night. Aqua is in a crisis and I need to see her. Suddenly -- as if by some voodoo magic possessed only by the first week of class -- my life is too busy to juggle, despite my calendar reminders and to-do lists.

Stress is like a drug to me.

Safety Manual (comes with bonus CD sing-along)

Safety meetings at a café.
Sorry. Coffee lounge.
I suppose café is too pretentious for rock and roll. Anyhow, it was a fantastic evening. Ground's band surprised and impressed. Mouthful of Bees had great stage presence and there were many good laughs. K.L came with me. The more I spend with her, the more I realise that her and I are so much alike. I enjoy her silent company, and that speaks volumes. It'd be great to a have friend who was just a friend, and not a competitor, co-conspirateur, or crutch.
-looks in purse-
Three cigarettes left.
Then, I'm a quitter.
Only quitters quit.
Quit,
Quit.
The word purses your lips just like when you smoke.

Johnny Two F*ckin' Pesos. If you're out there... I may see you at the Ween Concert during reading break. Let me know about that couch.

The semester isn't yet begun and I am already planning my first break.

Speaking of music, Father got me some shiny tickets to Jimmy Eat World this October -- Four days after my birthday and six days before they release their new album Chase This Light. Which, evidently, I am so stoked about that I jumped around, spinning in circles I was so giddy about this new development. It should be an interesting six months after, without any music save that album.