Posts Tagged ‘Thinking Out Loud’


Memory Fucking Lane

April 17, 2010

I’m packing.

Packing is not my favourite part of moving.  There’s the annoyance of finding boxes, then making it all fit in them and realizing just how much shit you have.  Lots.

Then there’s the inevitable shoeboxes, knapsacks, and simple stacks of things that have accumulated (surprisingly quickly) and you get stuck looking through it all just to make sure you’re not wasting energy on transporting garbage.

I’ve been looking through things from the good ol’ college years, and it’s… entertaining.

A quote from a friend, dated March 29, 2005 at 10:27pm.

I wonder why there isn’t a higher suicide rate

And another quote that isn’t attributed, but I remember it coming from my mom.

If you don’t knock on doors, no one will open them for you

A list of subjects I wanted to discuss in a personal disseration on the topic of Religion

  • cult
  • cameras
  • arch (windows)
  • dress
  • paradox of the stone
  • vonnegut
  • mom vs dad
  • forcing it
  • use in TV: literal vs metaphor
  • pope vs my mom as a religious figure

There’s pages upon pages with my handwriting, just trying to work through ideas.

Bits of dialogue, usually totally out of context because I have no idea who most of these characters are anymore.

phone numbers, email addresses, websites all often unattributed (especially phone numbers… what was I thinking?)

A wedding date, which I’m pretty sure belongs to my godson’s parents…

Here’s another passage that is totally out of context now:

The secret of life isn’t actually a secret at all.  Calling it a secret is the simplest way of justifying the terrible things they do to themselves, to eachother, and worst of all, to the very definition of what they should be. This, of course, leads one to inquire: What should they be? The answer, just like the secret of life, is no secret at all. They should be good.

Uh… What?

There’s what appears to be a collaboration from who knows when??

Night fell on the city like a rock sinking through water.  Yes, just like that.

No, maybe not. Was it the rock falling on the city? Or the water falling on the night? It’s a funny thing, they say your eyes [something?] the image they see and reverse, place it upside down in your brain. Doesn’t that mean everything is upside down in the real world?  Science makes a mess of things.

I was walking through the park, the sound of my flip-flops echoing through the night air. This was a summer ritual of mine: wait ’til sundown, and take a brisk walk through the chill air. Just me and my thoughts and nothing else. I don’t even bring my show with me.

Shadows, of course, are tricky things, and if you don’t keep an eye on them, they’ll leave, or at the least, trip you down.  At the break of night, here so far away from home, the

streets light up and try to pick up where the sun leaves off.  I don’t understand the obsession city folk have with keeping everything so bright.  Doesn’t seem too bright to hide the stars behind a blanket of lightbulbs, but

maybe it’s safer.

Man.  I even found an old chapter thing that I wrote down (hands up if you remember THAT! no one?  oooook….)

Chapter 190: Interesting Conversations.

Man, I could sure go for a chapter 190 right about now… enough of this memory lane malarky!


On Superpowers

March 13, 2010

How is it that som people just know what to say? It’s like they have a strange organ inside their skull, a clear channel from their brain to their mouth.

… it occurs to me that maybe that’s my problem. I should have said heart to their mouth.



February 19, 2010

Today is Friday.

For me, Friday is just like every other day of the week.  It’s a day where I probably won’t do something for money (that sounds sexy/gross!) and it’s a day where I’ll waste most of it procrastinating.

Take today, for example.  My alarm went off at 8AM.  To convince myself to get out of bed at 8AM, I programmed the coffee machine to make coffee at 8AM.  Unfortunately, wanting-to-stay-in-bed Alex is too smart for sieze-the-day Alex, in that I remembered the machine will keep the coffee warm for 2 hours.  I stayed in bed, intermittently having the craziest dream (that I can’t remember… sigh) between brief bouts of sleep, kinda like hitting the pause/play button.

Eventually I got out of bed, made myself some breakfast.  Fail #2 of the day: I am no good at timing breakfast.  Either the coffee I poured myself goes cold, the omelette goes cold, the toast goes cold, or I don’t look cool enough while chopping up a banana.  Or, like today, ALL THREE!

After eating my lukewarm (not lukeworm) breakfast, I decide it’s time to get to work.  Instead I spend time reading stuff on the internet.  Web comics (future post!), nerdy news sites, real news sites, art link blogs, food link blogs, blog blogs.  I’m really good at the internet, guy.

THEN it’s time to start working… after a shower.

Ok, I sit down to work, but what happens? The phone rings.  It’s about a money job.  I spend half an hour talking to two people: one who understands technology, and one who absolutely doesn’t.  Ok, that’s out of the way.

The phone rings again! Another money job.  My final days before I lose my life to “regular employment” are not very productive.  Another half an hour talking about equipment, operators, days, rates, and our plans for never seeing loved ones ever again.

OK.  Now that that’s out of the way, it’s time to get started.  Instead, I look at houses on craigslist.  Why am I doing this?  Because I am SO GOOD at procrastinating.

Now it’s 1:45, and I have 15 minutes (instead of 6 hours) to impress myself and actually work on this spec.  Unless, of course, I think of something better to do…


Morning Radio

February 8, 2010

I’m not a huge morning radio (or morning, for that matter) person, but even a schmuck like me knows Andy Barrie‘s name.  When news came down the wire last week that he was retiring as the host of Metro Morning, I was surprised, but it didn’t rock my world.

Today, in checking the news outlets, I see that Matt Galloway will be taking over the morning host duties starting March 1st. Again, this news in itself doesn’t mean much to me, but the amount of coverage it’s receiving makes me smile.

Canada is constantly battling with issues of identity.  As a member of the television industry, I’m particularly aware of how little content on TV feels Canadian.  Of course, there’s a much larger discussion behind exactly what that means, but that’s not today’s point.

Today’s Point: CBC Radio is a perfect vehicle for Canadian identity.  If a morning host prompts a flurry of articles, from all kinds of outlets, well, it feels good to think that we’re not only hearing about it because it’s a slow news day.



January 13, 2010

Pronounced with a silent ‘c,’ I just want to say: What a great word.

Also, it has occurred to me that blogs (this one and in general) are places people go to say that stuff that’s on their mind that no one else is around to hear.  Telling the internet seems less silly than telling the wall to your left.

Barely, of course.


The Last Name

October 25, 2009

Something overtook me tonight and I spent a short while researching my last name.  I’ve never known its meaning, and before tonight, I’ve never cared.

It’s funny though.  I’m starting to become aware of the amount of filtering our brains do automatically to regulate our moods and opinions.  The idea that randomness isn’t really random because stuff is bound to happen somewhere or sometime.

Then there’s the concept of why do bad things always happen to me?  when really we’re just ignoring all the amazing or even mediocre things that happen all the time.

It’s like we’re programmed to ignore things that we’re not happy or upset or any-kind-of-emotional-extreme with and to keep searching until one crawls across our shoe.  Not sure where that rat metaphor came from, but anyway…

So I started looking up my last name and at first I come up with nothing.  So I look a bit more.

Turns out there are 4 main kinds of Surname origins:

1) Patronymic (from the first name of father).
Peters – son of Peter (English, German)
Peterson – son of Peter (Swedish)
Petersen – son of Peter (Danish)
O’Reilly – grandson of Reilly (Ireland)
Mc- /Mac- – son of (Scottish)
d’- / di- – son of (Italian)
-ez / -es – son of (Spanish / Portuguese)
-wicz – son of (Poland)
Fitz- – son of (Old English – sometimes incorrectly associated with being an illegitimate)

2) Lives near locality or place.
KirkPatrick – Church (kirk) of St. Patrick
Cliff – steep hill
Fairholm – the fair island
Ashley – field surrounded by ash trees

3) Occupation or social status.
Cooper – barrel maker
Wagner or Waggoner – wagon maker
Knight – knighthood conferred by the king
Smith – blacksmith
Powers – poor or taken a vow of poverty

4) Nicknames describing person or personality.
Reid – red, ruddy complexion or red hair
Stout – Body size
Small – Body size
Armstrong – strong arms
Sharpe – sharp, smart

So, here’s a bit of information, but no answers really.

I come across a Spanish translation and it turns out the name means bedroom.  Weird.  Definitely not satisfactory.  So, I ignore this answer and look a bit further.

I find a site that suggests that the name is of Arabic origins, from a word that means Dome or Cuppola.  To me this is just another version of bedroom, even though they’re technically different things, it’s all down the same vein of structure.  Am I to assume that my ancestors were known for hanging out indoors?  For staying in their room?  Boring.  So boring that I need to keep looking.

I come across another site that again suggested it was a Spanish translation, but it included three definitions.  Yes, bedroom was there, but so was alcove.  Ok, alcove.  I see this and it rings a bell.  Maybe I’ve been down this road before and alcove is where I ended.  In all truth, alcove is as good a place as bedroom.  And then there’s a third definition.

3. Case in which the tongue of a balance moves to regulate the weight. (f)

And this is something new.  So it’s a case, or a box or a whatever, where something adjusts to keep itself balanced.  And this definition, even though I don’t really understand it, seems to satisfy.  The idea of balance means more to me than structure.

And, of course, I wind up here where I am forced to consider why I spent so much time looking this up in the first place.  Why did I consciously filter answers that I considered bullshit simply because it left me feeling boring?

Was it vanity?  Perhaps.  Boredom?  Not really, I don’t think.  Some strange version of soul searching?  Oi, I hope not.  But hell, what do I know?

Other than multiple definitions of my last name, that is…


4 Days in New York

July 5, 2009

My trip to New York began the way all of my trips do: waiting in an uncomfortable terminal, nervous as fuck. It’s funny, y’know? Sitting there, not exactly sure what I should be doing ( if anything) or where should I be waiting (if anywhere). I can’t focus enough to read a book. It’s over airconditioned so that even in a hoodie, I’m not warm. I tired, even though I slept in. Ugh! What is the effing deal?!

After years of taking planes everywhere, I feel like I’ve finally figured it all out. But for some reason, I take one step into a bus terminal, and I’m lost, and I’m confused, and I’m even a little scared.

It’s all nerves. Y’know?

When my nerves start to get to me, I find that I go through one of a small list of compulsive reactions.

I eat. I pee. I pace. I sigh. I count to seven.

Why do I do these things? At various points in my life I’ve had different ways of justifying it all to myself, but here’s the latest. Indulge me as I take the long way ’round.

A few months ago, I filmed a seminar about weight loss. At the time I was polite, but to my friends I scoffed the knowledge bestowed by the “life coach.” Basically, it’s the idea of someone calling themself a life coach that annoyed me the most, but I now think there may have been some logic to his theories.

Basically, what he put forward is that people overeat because they associate feeling good with overeating. It has somehow been programmer into all of our minds that eating = happiness, and so in times of sorrow, discomfort or even nervousness, people turn to these preprogrammed recipes for instant gratification.

Thinking about that in realtion to waiting for the goddamn bus, I can apply some of it to myself. All those things I do when I’m nervous are also associated with instant relief. (Seriously, who doesn’t feel great after a good long pee?)

The thing is, I don’t necessarily know if I would want to break that programming. Sure, if I were trying to lose weight, I can see the benefit of removing the ready desire to eat eat eat. But in terms of solving nerves? What would I do to help abate that unsettled-ness? Other things? Constructive things? Destructive things? Nothing?

These four days in new York are going to be an interesting time. It’s the first time I’ve ever travelled with this particular best friend of mine, so naturally, I’m nervous.

And yet, sitting on the bus (yay, I’m finally on!) I’m starting to feel better. Finally, we’re on the road, things are moving, I’m exactly where I need to be.

Tomorrow morning begins my four days in New York.

“See?” he said to himself. “Nothing to be nervous about.”