Y: Sunday morning is every day for all I care.

Just a few random thoughts on this crisp fall morning.

When I woke up this morning it was one of those days where I couldn't quite remember what day it was. For some reason I thought it was friday and my first thought was "Gee, what a long week it's been," and indeed it was a long, fun week, it's kinda over and now I have to start a new week.

And hey, it's fall back! Remember your clocks everybody.

The weather has been terrific lately. Makes me a little sad that it all has to go away soon. I could fill this post with my thoughts on how much I dislike winter weather... but hell, you could go read jsut about anything from November to March and maybe even April a little to get a sense of that. I gravely dislike winter and over the next 6 months you will come to see a side of me that is far less pleasant.

(That is, if I was anything close to pleasant to begin with.)

I'll tell you this... I squandered my reading week. I had an assload of homework. Well, maybe not that much, but hey, in high school I tended to choose courses where there was less homework... such as philosophy, ancient civs, commtech, food school, drama, entrepreneurship... heck, man, the most homework-heavy class I ever voluntarily took may have been Writer's Craft. Yet I loved that class. ANYway, I've got a whole damn bunch of things to write tonight since I probably won't have much time on Monday.

Tomorrow, I'm going out to Screemers with Rachel and her friends. The first time she and I met there was a bit of awkwardness but we met again in person recently and it was cool, so I'm not worried about that. She's cool and I hope her friends are too. I was just extraordinarily worried that I wouldn't know anyone but her, but apparently most of these people have never met, so good for me. I certainly hope it works out.

After that, that marks the end of anything I have to look forward to for quite a while. Christmas I suppose, would mark my next break from school, although I'll thankfully be able to see everyone again probably for one of the shows - Oklahoma or Cary's Henry V. I figure, based on last night, the optimum amount of time we should leave between gatherings would be 3 weeks. A month is too long.

There's a tree at the end of my street, completely bare. I don't know what that means, but I think it was the first tree to go. And I look at that tree and all I can think is "gee... someday, the leaves will grow again." And sigh. Again, with the weather.

Note to all store-owners: It's too goddamn early for Santa Claus. Don't get so excited. It's not quite the end of halloween. Just because you don't have any halloween decorations doesn't mean you can just skip ahead to the next holiday. Americans have to temper their Christmas spirit by waiting until after their Thanksgiving, and the best measure we have is halloween and you're not even using it! This is insane. Now every time I walk into the mall, I see Santa on the shelves of the calender store, and I think "56 more days..." and the countdown continues. For almost two months. Sure.

What is the world coming to?

In that excellent film Garden State, there is a scene toward the end. I think it is the one in which Andrew (Zach Braff) and Sam (Natalie Portman,) are in the bathtub. And after a very tender moment, he finally breaks his resolve and begins to cry (or something,) and his only words, as far as I can recall, are "Fuck, this hurts so much." What a simple, poignant line, at a powerful moment in the film. Sometimes that moment occurs to me and I just observe it in my head. Like I figure that's how I should be feeling after this whole grad thing. But who knows.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

X-2: Stopped at the green

So I've taken a few hours off, but here I am, back at the keyboard to try and make sense of last night. Was it glorious? Or soul-crushing?

All I know is that when I woke up this morning I wasn't sure if I was sober by then, hung-over, or still drunk. When it comes to hard liquor, I'm hardly the champ.

And to make matters worse, I had to go bowling... luckily, it was a "fun day" for halloween where the points don't really count and they turn on the "cosmic" lights. It also means we had to endure the worst music imaginable, which seems to be the sole qualifying factor to be played at Classic Bowl. (Frequently when I'm working, it's a switch between Shania Twain and Linkin Park -- two extremes of awful. And not just one song either, but long sets.)

But never mind that. It wasn't a horrible experience. Still trying to piece together the night before. I dashed from commencement over to Cary's. I arrived at the exact moment Ryan dropped off Becky and Ana (Ryan had to take Doug and his massive trophy home.) That's a good thing since I don't like showing up alone, even when I'm expected and welcome.

The evening was divided more-or-less into two parts. The first part, I call "sober," and was spent in the corner with Lauren Wing and Kyle (who actually do make an adorable couple,) as well as Chris Ferguson and Sonya (who, as near as I can figure, are not a couple, but adorable for their own reasons.) And you know, I wandered around, had fun, and managed to actually be upbeat and even, dare I say, charming. I was in a great mood, the best in me brought out by the atmosphere. Watched everyone try and get Chris Ferguson drunk, Becky get herself drunk, and Ryan Wheeler just watch drunks (he a driver himself.) And Lauren was tanked almost by the time I got there, but that's what we love about her. And Ana and I made conversation on a level few can match us on -- horribly neurotic personality disorders. Hah, that is, film geeks. And that neurotic one.

It was all going quite well, and then and then, during a very sudden introduction to one of Cary's Mac friends (whose name I have forgotten for reasons I will soon explain,) she realized she knew me -- for she's been reading this blog for lord knows how long. Which is when it really started to sink in that ths blog was a phenomenon beyond my comprehension, when people I didn't even know were checking it on a stalker-like basis (to use her description.) She decided it was a tragedy that I wasn't drunk, making it her mission to make me pour as much alcohol down my throat in as short a time as possible. Which I kinda did. Like I said, it wasn't the volume, just that it all happened at once. Moderation took a vacation last night. What was it I said back in May? "Beware of drunk girls who want you to get on even playing grounds with you, because they are armed with vodka." Not exactly the case, but the saying applies. All the while she explained to me that she was a stalker and that I'd been too depressed lately and I think she even blurted out that I was good-looking, but that was probably just a slip of the tongue. And then like that, she disappeared into a crowd, and left me in a bit of a stupor. This explains the forgetting of names, because naturally my concentration was off for the rest of the evening.

Not particularly fond of the feeling of being drunk. It's not a state for a physically mature male. I'm much more comfortable standing around laughing at drunk girls. It's less fun when I'm part of it (and that sentence is rarely used by nyone in history.) I'm just a sucker for anything a girl at a party tells me to do, like the quote says. Strangely, nothing of note happened for the rest of the night... a losing effort in Smash Bros. Melee (I couldn't find what, if any, was the control for throwing,) a conversation with Mike Cofini about the late-90's World Wrestling Federation, and a lot of propping myself up to keep from falling over.

Was it a great night? Definitely. And this time, I sincerely mean it, as opposed to last time when I had doubts. It doesn't seem to matter what's wrong with my life, because when you're in good company it reminds you of what you really have, and what I've just recently learned I have is some very good friends, though they are spread as far as Hamilton, Waterloo, Kingston and the GTA. Oh, and a blog that is read by millions and millions of obsessed fans.

Well, probably not, but there's just no way of telling.

I'm not gonna pull out the old "I'm comfortable with myself for the first time" chestnut, because it can't possibly be the first time. But I sure am secure with myself.

There are other things, I'll tell you, that I could whine about were I in such a mood, but my life makes for a fairly lame soap opera, since the only development is that things are exactly the same, and don't look as though they'll ever change. My biggest problem is that she and I have never properly agreed whether or not it is something. It's just sort of tacitly agreed that it can't be. Maybe this bothers her. On my off days, it eats away at me, but not at the moment.

Well on that note, thanks a lot everybody for tuning in. Won't you think of me once in a while?

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

X: The last to leave the party

Oh, uh... wow.

Let me begin today by say I have no idea how I should feel right now. It's insane. I just don't think there's any one way my mind can decide to interpret all the things that happened last night. But what comes above it all is the fact that I managed to actually get out and experience what I like to call "society," and now I'm actually feeling something... which makes me happy. So that's on the top. I'm happy. Yeah.

But it's weird. My mind can't be bothered to deal with the implications of last night's commencement ceremony. I can't tick off in my head all the people I (probably) won't see again (but who knows.) I'll never say never because, to quote the title of a Beatles song I'm rather fond of, "tomorrow never knows." And as long as I have this blog, people know where I'm at.

And that's as good a segué as any to something I wanted to talk about: what is the deal with people reading this thing? I mean, that's cool, that's what it's there for, but it's not even "yeah I read your blog so I know what you're up to" it's like "your blog is so interesting, I love reading it." Yeah? Huh?? At three different points in the evening did the subject of this blog come up (once at the reception, once with Ana and once with a girl who has actually been reading it for a while, and stalking me -- more on that in a minute.) I dunno man. It's not that my life is interesting, or that I have anything interesting to say (I'm thinking,) just that I'm good at finding ways to say it. After all, what am I, if not a writer? Should I not be able to make the everyday occurrences of my life seem interesting? My only problem is it brings into perspective the fact that people are reading this and I have absolutely no idea who's out there. Not that I need to know, because in truth, it's better if I don't think about it. I think the blog would suffer if I thought "Oh I can't write that, that would upset so-and-so."

I spoke about it more than the movie, which is a relief. That's not to say I didn't have to field the usual "how about the movie" questions from Doug and Ryan, but still... geez man. I should try and get some advertising revenue on here, hahaha... kidding.

So I guess I oughtta take it from the top. I didn't know if I should dress up. I decided nobody would laugh if I put on a dress shirt and tie, but I felt better with a rough sort of look - the shirt was untucked, the top button was undone, as were the cuffs, and the tie was loose. I was going to wear jeans, but mom pass-aggressed it out of me. She didn't mean to, but jsut be pressing the issue I felt the obligation. I didn't regret it, but I still think jeans would have been fine. I was sort of in-between the crowd that was quite dressed up (Cary, Chris, even Kyle,) and people who did not dress up whatsoever (Goad, Anisah, others.) As it turned out, the QEII Scholarship is technically an award so I actually did have to go up with all the awards people, which is good - as a result I did indeed sit next to Ryan Wheeler, as I figured I would. It is imperative in a 2-hour ceremony that is mostly sitting and listening that you are seated with people you know and like and can make smartass comments to. Chris Brown was right behind us. (Aside: this comment fits nowhere else, but was anybody else's hair pulled out by the friggin' cap?)

None of the details of the ceremony are really important enough to recall. A number of boring speeches were made. Miss Fedurco was actually booed. I didn't boo, but I found it hy-larious that she was. It wasn't planned as far as I can guess, it really just seemed like the knee-jerk instinct of a few individuals. Good for them. And then she actually said "within out white community," when she meant to say "White Oaks Community." Maybe she deserved to be booed, racist woman.

Efe's speech touched a number of people. I'm not so certain I was moved by it. I mean, given the atmosphere you're bound to find anything that comes so from the heart moving, but I don't think that was exactly what I wanted in a valedictorian speech. It was kind. It was nicely-worded. It was reflective. It just wasn't incredibly inspiring for the future. But that's just my opinion. Maybe I'm just a cynic. Although you know, thinking on it, it was still quite good. Hell, I certainly couldn't have done it better. It tied the whole experience together rather well.

And God love Kyle for his Harvard remark. One last note on that portion of things: you can tell it went too long because by the end you could smell the burning of the stage lights. Not particularly pleasant.

The reception afterward was almost unbearable, just because of the sheer volume of people crammed into the gym. I was frequently heard to cry "there's too damn many people in here!" Dad took a few pictures of me with my fake dimploma (for you see, he wanted me in hte robe, and to get my real diploma, I would have to disrobe, so to speak.) I said goodbye to (the newly shorthaired) Alyssa Chrastina for the second time in two days. I don't know how long it will be before I go to see her in Toronto again. Besides, she'll be living in a new place with her boyfriend, and there's this weird feeling I have that I'll be like a third wheel even if he's not around. Hard to describe. Completely irrational but there all the same.

Had some other conversations before heading over to Cary's. Particularly one with Josh Kerhsaw about Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Now let me tell you, without Josh, I doubt if I'd ever have a conversation with anyone about Phillip Seymour Hoffman. And that reminded me once and for all how good buddies we really are. If that was the last conversation I ever had with him, it'd be fine. I mean, I hope it's not, but it was really refreshing. I hadn't had a real conversation with him for months, even before the end of the school year.

Anyway, this post is already monstrously long as it is. I should take a break and come back and recpa the rest of the night.

Keep on rockin'
**Scott Williams: ("Be right back")

W: The old man ain't around

A quick note before I go get lunch, come back, finish the last issue of Sewerman, and eventually graduate: I'm in a good mood.

Strangely, whenever I say it will be quick, it ends up being a rather lengthy philosophical post. And so it may very well be.

After all, last night managed to go off, not without a hitch but rather successfully anyhow. I was stranted in Toronto much longer than I needed to be but I went out to Toronto to watch After Hours with Alyssa. Let me tell you if I am going to schlep my way out to Toronto, it had better be for an excellent film and great company and I would provide nothing but an excellent film, and she was as always great company. As a result, I had a good night and am thus in a good mood today.

And as I already mentioned, tonight is commencement. I don't get it, man. Why did they wait until two months into the new school year to have this ridiculous ceremony? Why did they have to drag us all back from our new lives and remind us of the accomplishments we've already accomplished? On TV, the graduation episode is always the last one, not in the middle of the next season. That's absurd. All the same, this is the perfect time to see the gang again. If only there were some excuse to see everybody again during November, but no, we have to go that entire month slogging through school.

But regardless... I had some really sappy thoughts lined up on the nature of friendship and how it makes you feel "valid" for what you're doing with your life and whatnot, but man does that seem corny in the light of day. So I'm gonna let that one go and instead enjoy my lunch. See you all later.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

PS - what is one supposed to wear to commencement? It seems pointless to dress up nice if you're just gonna be forced into a cap and gown. Hrm.

V: It all comes down to bread, bananas, and milk.

A quiet kind of frustration at the world these days. I had no effort to put into not totally hating the world today. I couldn't be bothered to try. The sun was out, and as disappointed as Liam would be to hear me say this, I was glad, since I hate the cold/rainy/windy conditions we've endured lately. I figure he'd be disappointed, because I think he has me in his mind as a kind of kindred spirit/role model, someone to whom he can relate. And while that last part is true, there are many emotional/behavioural traits he may see in me that aren't there. Just a theory, though.

I've become such a drag lately, and for that I apologize. I just spent a good 20 minutes around the dinner table whining about my job, and even I didn't find it to be pleasant conversation. Not that I had an unpleasant night, although it was certainly different (if not for the world record attempt at marathon bowling courtesy of Andy Milne, then because I was equipped with a walkie talkie because the intercom broke down.) I'm just in the mood to complain lately, which seems right, since that may have been the only thing I truly ever was good at. In this spirit, I have added my Grade 12 Writer's Craft beat poetry summative to Interneta.

I found myself at WOSS today, if only because I make it a point not to get couped up indoors all day when I don't have school. And I was curious to see how my amigos in Grade 11 were coming along in their docudramas. They naturally asked me to come see their presentations, and while I'd like to, the scheduling is just too tough. Although the docudramas are often the best of the year. I also caught up with Rosser in a nice long chat, basically unloading all the info I had on everyone. Yeah, there's that old "small minds discuss people" cliche, but whatever man. Let me be small minded every once in a while.

I also lectured anyone with ears to hear about the hazards of Fringe directing. Nobody seemed to take it to heart, but they'll soon learn.

I do, however, have a lot of shit to unload. I shouldn't keep it all bottled up, especially when I have this blog for the express purpose of release. Is it wrong that I want attention? Fuck no! Man is a social animal. He craves attention from his fellow man and from the opposite sex. Fuckin' propagation of the species and shit. And it'd be nice if I could pin the blame on "oh those hormones of mine," but hey man - I am those hormones, so I might as well just say "oh, me." Maybe we don't desire a girl because our hormones are rushing, but our hormones are rushing because we desire a girl. Or did I just blow your mind?

I just can't quite articulate exactly what this funk of mine is. It has to do with: (in no particular order) a specific girl, girls in general, friends who are couples, my creative output, my workload at school, my job, my home life, the weather, and perhaps a lack of nutrition in my diet. Okay that last one isn't likely. i've just got a lot to think about.

Girls, man. What the hell.

I'll let you know sometime, when I get it all sorted out.

Keep on rockin
-SAW

U: Fragment thoughts in run-on sentences.

Well thank God I didn't write an entry yesterday. Just because I've been in such a self-absorbed "blahh life suchs" mood lately, which honestly continues to this moment, but at least a superfluous post was avoided. I woke up yesterday morning and my first thought was "gee, I'm depressed," and I proceeded to spend the rest of the day thinking of things to be depressed about. (The sad thing is I found quite a bit.) Not that it's a serious "depression" or anything, just your everyday teenage funk. It just saps me of the energy to do anything. Including shave - I really don't like being unshaven, but I can't seem to fit a good shave in.

I just don't feel so sharp these days. I need to get some kind of identity for myself, but I'm all over the place.

So I covered for Albert last night at work. I don't want to say "never again," but I will think twice since it was certainly not the most fun I've ever had at a bowling alley for 7 hours. A lot of it wasn't because I was filling in or because it was Sunday, just because of absent-mindedness. I walked out without punching out and had to bang on the door like a maniac to get Tahir's attention. Then there was this whole thing with my ride home, and boy was that a mess.

Also, I

So I'm starting Reading Week. I figure by the end of this I won't even remember what school was like. A good solid week off can be quite refreshing. Strangely, I'll probably spend the whole time in a self-obsessed funk. I've got so much junk -- for that is what it is, useless junk -- in my head I can't muster my wits.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

Addendum: Several hours later, I'm re-reading this post and I realize that it just says "Also, I" up there, and I have no idea where that was supposed to be. Was that a false start to my reading week thought, or something else? Man, I can't remember. I'm so out of it lately, it'd be a wonder if I actually got anything done at all this week, let alone the actual assignments I've been handed. I haven't even looked at what I'm supposed to do for Desktop publishing. It doesn't help that I have no internet on my laptop this week.

People read this, right? That's cool, man. I don't know how many of you are out there, although I know several of the people who have read it recently and in the past. I don't really care who is reading it specifically, I don't let that affect what I write. Like if I write about such-and-such and one of her friends reads and tells her, whatever man. Not that that happens. I'm just too lazy to sit down and sort through that junk ("junk" again.)

I'm not so pathetic as I seem on this blog, if that's how I come off. I'm just really, as you might say, pensive. But, whatever, man.

Keep on rockin' again
-Scotto

T: I'm losing you.

The title of this post comes from a song by John Lennon, so there's no need to read into it. Or, hell, you may if you'd like to, it's a free country, right?

Thinking a bit about astrology, and I'm thinking I believe in it, just not in the astrologers themselves. With no scientific way to prove they're wrong, they run amok giving out wild predictions we must either accept blindly or completely ignore. Usually I choose the latter. In fact, I make it a point not to check my day's horoscope until just before bed, so I can look and see "hm, was that my day?" And I'd say that 60% of the time it at least loosely fits. But the proof of astrology, I think, is all around us.

For nearly 2400 years the dominant star in the sky has been Polaris (what we know as the "North Star,") and the dominant constellation has been Pisces... hence we are living in the "Age of Pisces." But this is an ongoing rotation of constellations, occurreing roughly every two-and-some millennia. And within the next decade or so, the Age of Pisces will give way to the Age of Aquarius. What does this mean? Well, I could get into the spirituality of it with you, but I couldn't even begin to make it sound plausible. The direct impact of this transition on us as human beings is basically what we're seeing now... hurricanes blow with more force, earthquakes occur more frequently, tsunamis... hell, maybe even avian flu for all we know. It's a turbulent time, but it will not be representative of the next two millennia... just a decade or so. Maybe our entire lifetimes. I don't know. All I do know is that mankind has weathered such transitions before (Ancient Egypt stood through the Age of Aries, and the dawn of mankind generally occurred within the Age of Taurus or earlier,) and we will continue to. I can't believe CNN is actually running entire items, wasting valuable broadcasting time and space with stories like "Is this the apocalypse?" How stupid. If it is, I don't want to know until it gets here. And then this failed experiment called humankind will be erased from the history of the universe once and for all, leaving Earth a beautiful, untouched sphere ready for the sun to expand and engulf it after countless millions of years.

The Age of Aquarius, apparently, will begin in late 2012. We will see, until then, how this supposed transition will take place and affect our lives.

"So," in the words of Andrew Largeman, "there that is." I just went on a whole big rant about astrology and the Age of Aquarius. I just think it's neat that this is set to happen in our lifetime.

It at least distracted me from my own life. I had an experience this morning with a girl that left a sour taste in my mouth because, pleasant as it was, it reminded me that I am fated to be left in a bitter coldness, alone, time and again. I know, I know, "shut up you whiney little punk," but hey, it's my blog. Harvey Pekar never had to deal with such hard criticism when he printed numerous such stories in his American Splendor. And people paid to read that. Anyway, I've gone and depressed myself... or rather, contributed to my depression, along with the rain and greyness of the sky.

What a life. What a weak way to begin my week off. I'd also like to comment on the lameness of that unintentional half-a-pun, but hey, it was unintentional.

Well, there we are.

Thanks everybody.

Keep on rockin'
-Williams

S: In silent hiding

I'm so bored. I mean, I've got nothing going on and I keep bounding from one site to the next and back again. My bones ache and my patience is tested by certain external factors and I can't stop obsessing over these minute little occurrences in my life, and I can't bring myself to be concerned with natural disasters, diseases, wars, trials, etc, etc. Some journalist I'd make.

I don't even want to talk about it. Is that weird? All I've got to talk about is how there is so much I don't want to talk about. I don't feel like opening up tonight. I think I just poked my eardrum and nearly deafened myself. That was a non-sequitor. There's just so much useless crap I could use as blog filler bt I'm exhausted right now. No point.

J-History test today. Not terribly difficult stuff to handle: just pick a few names and say what you can about them. I didn't ace it, but I'm sure I got a healthy pass. I try not to think of it in terms of "if I don't do well I'll lose my scholarship and be financially raped," but who has time for such a concern? You could drive yourself crazy and reach the same point where you're not going to succeed any more. Fear is not a good motivator. It's great for controlling others, but it's terrible for use in motivation. What's needed is inspiration. And I think my J-History midterm, as well as the paper I wrote, were inspired.

And I just found out I finished Print Production (only a half-semester) with a 95%. So I'm not overly concerned by my mark at the moment. Hooray for me.

I need a shave.

Not to get too controversial, but I'm inspired by a discussion on Letterman with Madonna: How does one define sex? Is it any intimate contact? Is it (gasp) penetration? Is it, (as Madonna incredulously claims) the act of thinking about sex? Under that line of thinking, doesn't thinking about having sex with someone who will not have sex with you constitute rape? Or masturbation?

I don't personally know how to define sex, but a good place to start is with the genitals coming into contact. As for oral... surely it qualifies as "sex" since the word "sex" is included in the phrase "oral sex..." but it's not the same as "intercourse" and you surely can't reproduce that way.

Think about the seahorse... supposedly the male of that species carries and gives birth, but how is it then defined as a male? Is it the chromosomes? The equipment? One would think that the carrying of children immediately qualifies as female, but if you asked them, would they be able to tell you last night's football score? Could they fix a carburator? Do they find Tim Allen funny? Okay, none of those represent all males... particularly Tim Allen (although I liked him in Galaxy Quest and the underrated Big Trouble.)

Well, food for thought on this otherwise useless night. A rare lack of self-obsession.

We'll talk later. Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

R: The abyss gazes also into you.

This post's title from a Neitsche quote. I'm quite positive that I misspelled his name, but it's his fault for having a German name. And I've been meaning to look into the deeper meaning of the quote ("Battle not with monster, lest you become a moster, and know that when you gaze into the abyss...") beyond its poetic imagery, but I can't muster up the strength. I'm thinking of retiring to my SNES in a bit. These days, "Nightfreak and the Sons of Becker" is the inexplicable, esoteric, and all-around offbeat soundtrack to my video game playing.

1,170 words, (170 more than was necessary,) a half-dozen pages of research, an hour and fifteen minute of more-or-less solid writing, a can of coke and only five footnotes later, my midterm report on New York Times journalist Judith Miller is complete for J-history. I'm so glad the story got more interesting recently, or else it would have been dull as dishwater. I think I argued fairly well. One thing about me is that I can argue quite fiercely in an essay. Conversely, I would not have made a good debate team member because I am not particularly well-spoken. I need my fingers to act as a conduit for my thoughts, I can't say what's on my mind, it gets lost in a traffic jam. Despite this, I was actually (apparently) quite good at Improv. Oh the contradictions of life.

And my God was it easy. I had a tougher time relating Hamlet and Death of a Salesman.

I'm a little concerned about my J-History test. Dad grilled me on my unimpressive showing in the history test. I tried to put it in perspective for him, but he was in a mood to go off tonight. He also had this whole thing about my job, financial aid, etc, etc, etc.

I did much better on the Writing for Newspapers test today, I think. It was mostly stuff I knew and could deal with. Grammar, fact sheets, plus the same old stuff. I've only been at it for 6 weeks, it's already old hat. But J-History... that's gonna be tricky. We've just been boring into that class with names and dates and theories... it's hard to remember who said what when. And when I say boring, I do mean that in the sense of drilling, and also dullness. God bless the English language and its limitless supply of puns.

I feel like a villain lately. I've become very conscious of my personal karma and I don't want to do wrong to others (or myself,) but there are forces, I believe, that conspire to take advantage of this, even without knowing how consicous I am. I'm no villain. There was another word used that I hesitate to repeat, lest I break the barrier and God forbid encourage discussion of the issue. I don't even know what the issue is. I've been stonewalled. I don't want to be the cause of any illness out there in the Universe, intentional or not. There are things I must make right, only I don't know where to begin. Metaphorically speaking, I don't even know where I am.

I may as well admit it right now, I cheated a bit on my test today. Nothing important, just a little impromptu study session after the test had begun. I'll admit it freely to anyone but Jarrett. I used the computer's dictionary to assist me in some grammatical definitions. No big deal. Now that I've owned up to it, I can move on.

Between classes on Tuesday, this guy I've been hangin' out with asked if I had a blog. What an odd thing to ask, I thought. I don't use my blog in the way many people do - as a source for opinion of news and current events. It's just a personal sounding board to keep me from keeping my issues bottled up and going insane. It's not something I feel like advertising. Not that I'm ashamed, I jsut don't want people to assume that because I have a blog, I think I have anything interesting to say. I can only offer what this blog has ever provided: my life in text. Sometimes it's incredibly shallow, and occasionally, I'm told, I have a moment of philosophical revelation. Not often, though. So I gave him a dodgy answer that refused to officially name this as my blog.

Coward? Maybe.

Next week at Classic Bowl, a man is going to attempt a World Record 120 hours of consecutive Bowling. Yeah, right. I'll be there on the second day, probably to clear away all the cups of coffee this man will need. Classic bowl will remain open for 24 hours during this period. Thankfully, I don't have to work all this time, just my regular shift.

I ran into Sam Li again today. I've noticed that hardly a day goes by when I don't "see" someone. This is probably because Oakville is not a tremendously large place, and I just happen to keep running into people who are still here. Sam, she's a nice girl, someone I wish i'd gotten to know better while I was still at WOSS. And I have her on my MSN, but we never talk. You all have people like that, I'm sure.

There was this place I found (through someone's MSN name,) that lists all the people who have deleted/blocked you, and I was frankly humbled by the amount. The number was staggering. And these people, several of them did not even have the decency to block me first, so I see them come online and assume they can see me, too. How wrong I was.

Two more tests, three more classes... reading week, I can taste you.

I've got some pretty deep issues running through my head right now that I don't feel like tackling. And I think the SNES plan may have been a bust as nearly an hour has passed since beginning this post, and I no longer feel the need for the occupation. But the issues... just the belligerent thoughts of an idle mind. I had this half-a-dream last night about two girls I know getting into a disagreement over the internet about the advantages of psychotherapy. I have no idea what that is supposed to mean, other than pertaining to my recent studies concerning the "Church" of Scientology, and of course, my preoccupation with the women in my life (or, as they may be, not particularly "in" my life.)

I'd like to get back on that "villain" note someday, but I can't really deal with it now. I can only be as I am, and things can't change at the moment.

Keep on rockin'
Scott "gazing into the abyss" Williams

Q: Kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.

I had this brilliant post planned for last night, but I couldn't post it because the internet went mysterously down. Here's the exerpt I'd written:

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existance is to kindle a light in the darknes of mere being." - Carl Jung.

So here I was, brushing my teeth late last night, and suddenly this thought occurs to me... why we're all so self-obsessed, it's the same qualities that make up a good news story. We only care about something if it's close to us (proximity,) if it's happening right now (timeliness,) or if it has a direct effect on us (impact.) That's why it's so hard to concentrate on the earthquake in Pakistan, the war in Iraq or North Korea, but so easy for me to philosophize about my own meager little life. It's a lack of occupation of the mind, a vacuum of thinking ability that elevates these issues, but also the very same traits that cause one thing to be front page news, and the other to be buried in the back. Fascinating.

And now I've totally lost that train of thought. I'm very tired after a long (and rather productive) night of work so I don't even know how much I have to say. The day was really not as bad as I'd thought it would be. This proves my theory about having low expectations... that way, you're pleasantly surprised when it doesn't turn out for the worst (and conversely, vindicated when it does.) My tests were ridiculously disposable in nature, although the scattershot studying I did in history may have decreased my potential mark... definitely not my best subject. Hell, definitely not anybody's best subject.

But I'm that much closer to reading week.

So I was insomniac last night. And when you're so desperate for sleep, you reach a state of paranoid delusion. See, we've got this project due for Desktop publishing where we all have to create a newspaper, with articles in entertainment, news, fashion, sports... and I'm all paranoid, thinking people in my group are stealing my articles.

Think about that for a second.

People I'm working with... stealing my work... for the paper we're working on... together.

And yet somehow, it's almost one and I'm still conscious? How did that happen?

Oh, right... caffeine.

Well, nothing else today. I did run into Eric Kim on the bus for about 8 seconds as he already noted in a comment.

All right this has been one of the least inspired posts in a while... and I had such a good start with that whole occupation of the mind thing. Where did I go wrong?

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

P: The Dangers of a Romantic Soul

I ought to know better than to be on the computer right now blogging, and yet it's totally in character for me to do so.

Been in a funk these last few days, but I'm not settled there, I'm actually clawing my way out, hand over hand, finding little things to enjoy. Plus, I changed deoderants this morning, and now I feel more refreshed. And I'm not even joking.

I'm not excited about tomorrow. I have two tests, one the end-of-the-line-everybody-off final Print Production test (which I oughtta be able to walk though,) the other the kick-you-in-the-ass-then-spin-you-round-and-kick-you-in-the-crotch midterm Canadian History test. And then it's work. Not looking forward to that, and naturally let me say why: last week, I got in a bit of a tight spot thanks to my slacking, and now I'm dreading the cruel reality of my job with no relief, and faced with coworkers who, if they don't hate me, certainly aren't all that fond of me.

I kinda wish I was a mechanic. I'm sure they get paid waaaay more, and stay out of sight the whole time. I've been back there. It's such a cool, claustrophobic area. I could learn that. Either that, or the counter. I'll stay at my job a while and I hope to advance beyond the position of porter. I know that there's not a great deal of room for advancement in this place, but anything to hold onto.

Then, after all that, it's more tests, more studying, a paper due, a few more tests, and then I'm done. I've just gotta keep racing toward the finishline.

Stupid future.

Saw Hilary and Saskia at the mall today. Not surprising, since I actually see them there pretty often, since that's where I normally lunch at this point in the week.

I imagined a conversation between me and myself from fall 2000, and I began to laugh at how naive the young me came off, and yet simultaneously how he ridiculed me. I teased him with hints about what was to come, and he teased me about how little had changed. I might transcribe such a conversation in the future.

Well, those are my thoughts for today, plain as they are.

Keep on rocking out there, you lights in the darkness of mere being
-Scotto

O: Don't read symptoms

Brilliant advice from the Newsroom. It's too easy to trick oneself into thinking he is suffering.

It's just one of those nights when I'm a little down, and I feel as though there's nothing significant about me and that there's no proof I've ever done anything important or ever mattered to anybody in particular. Not that I think that's true. It just feels that way.

I'm still trying to get a handle on things as I go along, and I think I'm doing much better than I was, say, 4, 3, 2 years ago. Even 1 year ago, although there was a period about a year and a half ago when I was really on the ball. And if I've moved at all in the last 5 months, it's in the wrong direction, but there's nothing we can do about that but rebuild, eh? At thanksgiving, I was talking about how I was really starting to get it in the last semester or two of High school, and Kyle agreed, seeming to have noticed a subtle yet very obvious transformation in my character.

There are things I would change, but changing them would present results that would be undesirable. And I can't really think about them specifically right now, but who wouldn't make a change here or there? That's life.

(Sigh) I've been faced with some very odd things lately. It's weird how I'm sometimes more interested in other peoples' lives than my own. Yet the lives of others, no matter how far physically removed they may be at this point, are still intimately intertwined with mine.

Y'know, I've been working on this confidence thing, but I don't think that's me. Wuold you want to read the blog of a confident person? Or am I fine, all complex and insecure and neurotic and obsessive and overanalytical?

I'd love to be able to walk into a room and "own it," but I don't see it in the cards.

All I can do is shake my head in disbelief at my life. I don't have any real problems, so I have to invent implacable psychological ones. I torture myself incessantly, holding it over my head. I look at my solitude as an obstacle rather than an end unto itself. Here I am, as Queen Victoria so famously said, "alone at last." Or something. And all I can think is "Gee, I wonder what ________ is doing?" More often than not it's totally uninteresting, and yet, it's news to me.

I'd like to go into more depth, but other engagements call, so tonights vaguely philosophical rant will be halted in its tracks.

G'night and good luck... won't you think of me once in a while?

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

N: Define "numbness" please?

Another week over. Hard to believe how time goes by these days. And how much time I fritter away blogging when more worthwhile pursuits await... theoetically.

I gave a presentation today in Research about Scientology. I didn't really get idea behind the presentation; research a topic, then present your findings, and how you got them, in only 5 minutes... or something. I followed the crowd and did a powerpoint presentation for the first time ever. The only other times have been in partnership projects where it was his idea... once with Ryan Goad in Grade 12 English and once with Rohan Verma in Grade 8. The latter, I don't even know if I'm remembering properly, or what the subject was. I do, however, distinctly remember doing a presentation on censorship with Nick Jovonaski, using puppets.

So Bonnie has this cat... Depp is its name, I think, but it seems more interested in poking around here, than being up with her. And she is shy about coming down here, because, well, this is sorta our environment (which she must weather for her laundry.)

Yesterday, during break in J-History, I was down getting juice (which I may never buy again, putrid concoction,) Mansoor, a guy I've met over the past few weeks and sorta-but-not-really been pals with (and his friends,) comes up to me in line and asks "Hey Scott... are you into baseball?" And mistaking where he is going, I say, "yeah... I think St. Louis has got it this year," and he just sorta sighs and says, "yeah... can you explain it to me?" And it occurs to me he's probably more familiar with Cricket, so he doesn't get baseball. Which is fine, since baseball fans don't get cricket. But we're in Canada, where Cricket is not a nationally televised sport, and baseball is the closest thing. So he asks me to explains how runs are scored and all the bases and everything... and that was weird. I mean, I gladly did so, because I really like baseball and he's a nice enough guy. Hell, he's virtually the only one anyone goes to with printer problems (and 'anyone' includes me, since I'm totally inept with this stupid system,) and yet, baseball's just a bit beyond him. Well, that's just a cultural thing.

But wow man... I know it was a 4-day week, but I feels like this week has shot past instantaneously. I've got like 5 tests next week, and a term paper due on Judith Miller. Bleahh. I doubt next week will seem to slip by as rapidly as this.

I really want to go upstairs and play Mario. It's the oddest craving, like, "gee, it's been a long time since I've played Mario 3," such an strange desire.

We're just blowing right through October. Reading week, here we come...

Keep on rockin
-The Williams

M: Let's make this precious

I shouldn't be doing this... I should be coercing my research into a presentation. The weird thing about presentations in a Research class is that the presentation is about the research, not jsut the info. I have to document how I found all the information i'm using. And I may, just may, do my first-ever Powerpoint presentation (seriously, the only one I've ever done was with Ryan Goad in grade 12 English.)

Another dreary mid-autumn's day. Splotches of midnight rain soaked into asphalt, a chilled wind blowing fallen leaves. It's a funny thing about autumn. It's the only time of the year people celebrate entropy and death. That's what the leaves changing colour is, isn't it? Them dying? And everybody says "gee, that's so beautiful." It's the ultimate sacrifice... you sadistic voyeurs.

So I'm almost done writing this story, "The Insomniac," for an anthology I'm planning. There's really no reason for me to be doing this, practically speaking. It distracts from my schoolwork and won't amount to much in the end. And yet, I enjoy it, and it keeps me in touch with my creative side. While writing it, I sort of doubled back into the middle and took it into a different direction, because I felt it was meandering off toward the end. It was getting boringly descriptive, and I felt it needed character interaction, a little emotional depth. (That is, some emotion other than isolation: there's plenty of that.)

Eric went out and bought the Newsroom on DVD. It's a rather obscure CBC show that aired two seasons, one in 1996, one it 2004, inexplicably. But you know what? It's actually hilarious. "The entire muffin industry in this country is a joke." "Get me a holocaust... but with OJ."

Was thinking about Pinky and the Brain earlier, after lunch. Excellent show that was.

Well, I'd best give this powerpoint thing a shot. Keep on rockin'
-Herr williams

L: The medium is the message.

This post's title comes from the theories of Marshall McLuhan. Mitrovica actually gave us something interesting to read up on this week in J-History. McLuhan & Innis had some interesting theories on the various media. If only they'd survived to analyze the internet. If this blog is the medium, then how does that affect the message? The net has reduced what was once a great distance into a dense cluster of computers and information. The medium is something that you've sat down and decided to read, the message must be that information is needed to be gathered quickly. If stone tablets were meant to stand for time, and paper was to cover a great distance, then the internet must be to get as much information as possible as quickly as possible. I suppose that lessens society's tendancy toward depth and insight.

But that's enough homework for tonight. Maybe I'll bring it up in discussion tomorrow. Probably not, though.

Having a really good day, inexplicably. I don't want to say I expected to be depressed today, but you know how it is when you feel things are not going your way. Even after last night's noteworthy engagement of hanging out, I expected I'd wake up and go the other way. And I was a little down early in the morning. For like the third day in a row the weather was dreary, I was just kinda wiped from work, and I was not interested in the Adobe Illustrator lesson.

Then I snuck into Rosser's class, at Chris & Lauren's request, to watch their Midsummer Night's Dream presentation. And I got to be there when Rosser told them about Docudrama, which made me feel good and kinda nostalgic ("nostalgia is death," - Bob Dylan; never forget that quote!) because we talked about Columbine (the presentation, not so much the actual shooting,) and Charlie Manson, and I wistfully noted that that was one of my favourite drama projects ever. That, Night Sessions, the Commedia with Chris/Vanessa/Janessa... and Try Again Eugene. I also kinda liked the duologue, just because I loved the challenge of embodying two characters.

Then something happened that really made my day. I went to Writing for Newspapers and Stephen admitted he was wrong about the "feeling bad/badly" note he had given me, and that I was right. Well of course I was right, I was channelling Guthrie! As much respect as I have for several of my instructors, I don't think any of them will ever trump the Guth. If Guthrie said it, it's got more credibility than any other person could give. And if he says "feeling bad" not "feeling badly," then damnit you'll feel bad when you try to tell me otherwise!

Then I came home, had a good dinner, got all my reading done (in an uncharacteristic show of studiousness,) and managed to have a few good conversations, including a rather brief (yet enjoyable) one with an ever-elusive old friend I was surprised to catch. I know it's weird, but I'm a total mark for* (fan of) a good conversation. When I can use gather my wits and entertain someone through words composed on the spot, and they can reciprocate, there's not better feeling. That's why I loved improv. Damn did I love improv.

And "I am the Walrus" just came on. That's one of the only songs I know taht is a universe unto itself. A symphony of nonsense that is pointless to try and interpret. "Man you should'a seen them kickin' Edgar Allen Poe?" Genius lunacy.

I've posted a rever-survey on my Mindsay (aka backup blog where short useless thoughts are posted,) and I'm going to put the most interesting responses up for posterity on Interneta. In case you're not a Mindsay person (can't say I blame you,) it's also on my rarely-seen LiveJournal. (In case you were wondering, I only use those to view other peoples', but this is one is special.)

Well, that's the world tonight. It's exciting stuff, I know, so try not to get too wound up. I know I'm not. I'm feelin' good.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott A. Williams

K: I felt the need for a long title, since there hadn't been one in a while, and so I began typing this sentence and cannot stop until this period.

Feeling bad for feeling good. A very human state of being, I suppose.

I want to start this entry also by thanking Rachel for coming. She ranks in a very presitgious group of people to whom I can truly relate and with whom I can have a world-class conversation. The other three all have names that begin with "A."

"Not everyone would do this," I said in reference to the fact that she sat for roughly 3 hours in a noisy bowling alley just to converse, I added "In fact, nobody else has, so thanks." I note that not to try to shame everyone for visiting because I do get by (and after tonight's events, maybe it's not such a great idea,) but to emphasize how cool it was of her to do that.

However, maybe we shouldn't go that way again. Not tos ay I got in trouble, but I got some disapproving comments from Val (manager,) when I belatedly asked for my break, including the predictable, "you mean that wasn't your break?" Har har. Feeling like I needed to pay the universe back for taking it easy on me tonight, I only took 15 minutes of my break. So in terms of Buddhism, I think I'm squared, even though I didn't legitimately do anything wrong. My only mistake was not looking like I was working. That's the key to being a porter, I realize that now... appearance is everything, even though I did the same amount of work I would have anyway.

It's been a long time since I've really gone one-on-one in person for a great length of time, with nothing but conversation, and had a good time. I think I went without for the whole month of September. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I had a really good conversation in person. I have to have had one since after the prom.

And pardon the introspection, but the fact that I had such a great night represents a great conundrum in my life. It is quite clear that I may never find a good woman, ever again, if indeed I ever had one. Maybe I don't treat them enough like dirt. I'm too friendly, too conversational, so when I make a move it's off-putting to them, and unappealing. So maybe if I wanted a girl, I'd have to be tougher on them, play mind games, make them feel like they're nothing without me.

Note the sarcasm, people.

Women: the mystery that walks like a human.

I guess the big deal is that I don't know what women want. I know that they want their way but different women have different ways. All I have to offer is my ear and tongue. That's my initial offer. Maybe I'm not much to look at, but I can quip better than any man you know, unless you know Doug.

Tongue planted firmly in cheek, everybody. It's just a casual reflection on the fairer sex. I'm not depressed or anything. I'm actually quite well. Just prone to a little extra thought tonight.

Well I'm tired. Tired of trying to figure it all out tonight. I don't have the time and energy. And even if I did manage to figure women out tonight, I'd probably fall asleep and forget it in the morning. And where would that get me? I'd be the man who had women figured out for 18 seconds before he fell asleep and dreamed about waterskiing or something. And everyone would be like "Scott, why did you dream about waterskiing?" and I'll be like, "I don't know, but now it's all I can think about." And with my luck I'd go waterskiing and die in a horrible one-in-a-million waterskiing accident. And then I'd be dead and all the women at my funeral would be like "gee, he was such a good friend... and nothing else." All because I dared attempt to sit down one late October evening and figure women out.

Happy now?

G'night and keep on rockin'
-Scotto

J: Let's be natural.

God forbid we should ever lose our sense of humour.

I guess anybody reading this blog should be able to sense what kind of sense of humour I have. And I should hope that I can maintain it through any adversary. I mean, even earlier this week when I did my mondo-depressed shtick (which I seem to have passed on, a fact for which I am deeply remorseful,) re-reading the post the subtle self-satire still tends to crop up. And I hope I never lose that. I may not always feel funny, but I don't think I'll ever be able to stop.

That said, I'm prepared to get extremely philosophical. Let it be known that I am at least listening to the Rutles to balance myself. I'm in a good mood, but I've been having those fershlugginer deep thoughts.

I'm just worried. I feel kinda helpless. Like I can neither help nor be helped. I can't help because no matter what I try to do, damnit, I always end up failing and things get bad anyway. And I then feel responsible for people who are upset, although I shouldn't. And I feel I can't be helped, because I'm on a path of self-destruction that is irresistable. I'm paranoid and, I hope, hypochondriac (the alternative unsettles me too much to contemplate.) I can't banish the thought that this feeling is not a feeling, but a symptom. Because I'm fuckin' paranoid about shit like health. I need to see a doctor, I should hae months ago, and why I haven't spoken to mom about it is baffling. And I can't even really say what's on my mind because it's seemingly too insane to really focus on, and yet... thoughts of an idle mind.

I just don't think I'm racking up a lot of great karma lately. I try to be good, and I feel I am appreciated, but I want other people to know they are appreciated. There are meaningless inconsequential events that are accidental but take on the weight of severe acts of war. But the truth of such a matter is often lost to time and perspective (rather, lack thereof.) We have needlessly hurt feelings that cannot easily be undone. And by this I mean we do not easily part with these feelings: it's so easy and frankly a little gratifying to be upset, depressed, full of rage. It's an easy emotion to give in to, but that's not the way to go. I believe it only takes a mere gesture to forget such feelings, and I intend to find that gesture.

I'll tell ya man, even though I ought to be a busy cat, my mind is so idle right now. I've been having all these worthless thoughts, either too paranoid or sentimental.

I think I'd like to go back to being friends, if it's possible. I'm back and forth on this issue, but it seems pretty clear that it didn't work... I don't know, maybe the timing was off (it's certainly not the most opportune when she moves away and you never see her again.) The one thing I'm not doing is being all "blahhhh why why why?" because let's face it, someone of my experience ought to know better, and I do. As I told Vanessa, I have my regrets on the situation, but am more than prepared to let go (if she is.) Just another chapter in the ever-expanding encylopedia of related stories, y'know?

But I'd really rather be friends because, well, goddamn did we relate well. There are only a few people conversations with whom I relish. Before any of this insanity started, I could always count on her to provide an excellent dialogue. I wish I'd seen her this weekend, but things did not jive. Maybe I would've had a better time at Conorton's if I had. I didn't really say it at the time, but I was still rather depressed at Conorton's, because so few of the people there were my people. In that scenario, I fade into the background and become worthless, loaded with self-loathing. And I know it ain't cool to be that way, but what can I help? So was it the super-fun magical time I sorta said it was? Nah. It was a mixed blessing.

I had a thought about women for this paragraph. I lost it.

And none of this post makes any sense, I'm sure, but I don't care at this point.

A pretty good family gathering. A regular Thanksgiving event, nothing to write home about. Fuckin' Wally was there, though. Not that I dislike the guy. I just think it's remarkable that after showing up for two family events, mom still hasn't owned up to their relationship. I'm still not inclined to respect him. A few notches above Frank, however. Several.

Bleah, I'm all philosophical lately. If you need anything, just ask. I'm trying to improve my karma, I feel it is ill.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

I: Time won't let me

No update, no writing... got caught up in my own silly little curiosities. I just hope tomorrow isn't wasted. I am not counting on actually getting the computer, for certain reasons, but I have hopes.

Gotta write my BNA paper tomorrow (same assignment length as last week, same perimeters, might as well do it the same way.) I think Tuesday, between Print Production and History, I'll do my Writing for Newspapers homework since I won't have time to get it done Tuesday night.

But alas the point of this post isn't to schedule my week.

It's about a quarter to two, and I suspect by the time I'm through it'll be 2 and I'll be ready for bed.

I've been on a strange rollercoaster of emotion today. A pall was cast over my joyfulness because I recognized some of my own feelings in someone else. And nobody should ever have to suffer as I did earlier this week. I wish there was something I could have done to prevent this, if only I'd seen it coming.

I've been sad about that, I've been happy to talk to a good friend, I've been sentimental about romance, I've been relieved to be alone (yeah, that sometimes actually happens, although it's not well documented.) All in the past few hours. I ought to go to bed. But I'm trying to sort myself out.

There are many questions, the answers to which I do not know.

I figure there's a 50/50 chance she's reading this, and y'know, I'm not lovesick or anything, because lord knows I've learned my lesson. I just wish we didn't have to leave it the way we did. Whether it's over or not I think neither of us can say. There still remains a question, unaddressed, from that night. Neither yes nor no insinuated themselves into the equation. And that's the killer. But I'll not bore you readers with the details, only tease you with the trailer.

I feel all right. A friend told me today, "I don't get you," but she said it with such fondness that I couldn't help but be proud of that. If people started getting me, I'd have to change my entire way of life.

I have other thoughts, but they've all agglomerated themselves in my head and become inextricable. That's right, writer's craft words. I need to shed this sentimentality for now, revisit it at a time when I'm better-rested.

As it is, if I go to sleep soon, I may wake up tomorrow.

Good night and keep on rockin'
-Scotto

H: That's totally not her!

This post's title courtesy of Cary... via last night's "car" story. That's the punchline, but telling the story necessitates giving the punchline away first. I'm not gonna tell the story here... it was told at brunch, and I don't feel like I could do it justice right now if you don't know, but maybe ask sometime.

"I guess there is such a thing as being a little pregnant... but after a while, you're a lot pregnant." - Eric's insights into reproduction.

It's a picture perfect Sunday today. Seriously, it's completely Rockwell. The air is crisp (whatever that means,) I'm set to relax, I've got a Thanksgiving dinner coming, the leaves are falling, the wind is a capricious breeze (hooray for Writer's Craft words.) It is, as the Monkees sang, "another Pleasant Valley Sunday."

I have a huge plot summary of the last couple days coming up, but I got sidetracked into a discussion with Eric that is worth noting. Our youngest cousin, Ally, is only 1 and a half. It's impossible to imagine her growing from a baby into a "little girl" and then into a "young lady" and so on and so forth. And yet, at some point, all our relatives (particularly those now parenting our infant cousins,) saw us the same way. And we turned out all right... didn't we?

Anyway, as is expected, I tagged along at Conorton's place for the Thanksgiving drama kid reunion. First, I had to go to Loblaw's (or should I say, "Real Canadian Superstore"? It doesn't say "Loblaws" on any sign, I think.) to pick up, in what I consider to be a generous gesture, a chocolate cream cake. Then I had to hoof it on over to Conorton's... y'know, it's not as short a walk as I presumed. Particularly in the chill of early evening. I got there, and I look in through the front window, and the lights are off and the hallway is kluttered. Not comprehending, I decided to go around back. I glimpsed life through the back window, and came in that way, to everyone's surprise. Of course, this surprise was in addition to the usual surprise people get when I go anywhere.

The evening wore on. I lost $10 in a poker game when I was only supposed to lost $5 (uh, Conorton owes me that now. Fuck.) And then the money, which Doug won, went missing. It was a great time, a good dinner (courtesy of Mr. C himself, and which did not cause me to lose it at all,) and I was thankful just to be out there, man. It's not anybody in particular I missed, but being around people. The Drama kids. No matter what configuration, the dynamic is incomparable. And it's not even as though we spend all our time sitting and talking about drama. It's just how we relate. Even an outsider like me. Yeah, even in this joyful reunion there's room for a little self-deprecation, but no worries because at this point, I feel good about it.

So talks were had; some superficial, some cutting to the bone. I was asked a question I expected, and gave an evasive answer. The guitar was passed among those who could play. Some singing occurred. A little alcohol was consumed but anybody who was drunk was probably already drunk when they got there. Angela & Jess made a return to this blog with their dance-party shenanigans.

I did not, of course, see everybody I wanted to see. That would have been nearly impossible, just because the logistics of people-gathering generally mean that somebody's not gonna make it. And the people I would like to have seen generally know who they are and in most cases read this blog. (Hello!) Fortunately, Becky and Ryan actually did show up, which was glorious. And that's not a word I toss around often, since I find it foofy and vague, not to mention an invitation to hyperbole. But I was quite glad to see Mark & Maggie again, since throughout high school they were two of my closest friends (Ryan was one of the first friends I "made" in high school, and Becky, well, she's always been there.)

There was a lot of comparing notes on how university's going, although I shared fewer, if only because I don't find my own life to be so interesting right now. (How ironic, then, that I should keep this blog with more interest than ever.) Cary as ever proved himself the grandiloquent raconteur, which is why he's Cary.

After I stumbled home and fell asleep, I woke up and stumbled down to the Golden Griddle for brunchfast with... of course, most of the people from last night. In what was a continuation of the reunion, we all had the buffet at Double-G, (that's my new pet name) while discussing old times, new times, university lifestyles, and generally having a laugh. I think we disrupted several elderly peoples' meals. And Chris Ferguson was there, which really only improved the so-called dynamic, since the kid's got a damn quick wit.

Oh, and I made the syrup jar speak gradeschool french, "Bonjour, je m'appelle Sirop.," etc, much to the delight of the Frenchies who surrouned me.

There were no true goodbyes... only "see you soon's." Commencement is but a few weeks away, and Cary has taken that as an opportunity to celebrate his nearby birthday. So we've got that to look forward to.

And then, when I got back, Garden State was on TMN. And that made my relaxing sunday all the better.

I've got a video to return to Blockbuster, then I might do some much-needed site-updating, and then it's Dad's Thanksgiving mini-dinner.

I hope all of you out there are content.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

G: Flavour of Blood

I was walking down the pathway this afternoon in the rain, after a dreary 4:00 lecture, the latest in a neverending series on Adobe InDesign. I was miserable because of the way the day had turned out so far, with some angst held over from last night. I'd left my umbrella behind because the rain wasn't that hard, but it certainly was raining. I was in my own little world, humming and occasionally trying to remember the words to Elton John's "Tiny Dancer." Around that point, headed into the forest, I noticed the girl with a tangle of blond hair down her neck just standing there. As I naturally would, I ignored her presence while attempting to check her out. As I passed, she cooed to me, "see the hawk?"

It was as odd an opener I'd ever heard, so I looked where she was gesturing, to the top of the lamppost, and sure enough there was a large bird of prey eating something atop that light. An interesting sight to behold in a region seemingly known more for robins and orioles... maybe the occasionally jay or cardinal. And seagulls... don't forget the f'n seagulls. But a hawk - an animal that was actually represented on Transformers: Beast Wars? Neat. What's even neater, it had been called to my attention by a cute co-ed. (Is it even PC to refer to them as "co-edS?")

"I saw it and ran to my car to get my camera," she said, snapping away. "Photography student?" I asked, she nodded. "Journalism," I said, gesturing to myself. I observed the hawk, and her taking pictures of it, before getting on my way.

And that, my friends, is why I'm no longer in a terrible mood. Because I saw a carnivorous bird and a girl taking pictures of it. It's little things, nice surprises that can really go toward cheering a guy up. I'm almost certain never to see this girl again, nor do I care if I do. I just thought it was neat to interact with a stranger for once.

So, despite not having such a great day, I am in a relatively good mood. I wasn't for much of the day, but am now. I think I'll do some writing and get some stuff up on Interneta, including several long-delayed reviews, and maybe a new Metaworld if I see fit.

As I predicted, I'm over what angst I was feeling last night. I had a little explosion, you know, but it was a long time in coming, since I haven't had a violent episode in months, so I was due. And really it could've been worse.

I was brutally awakened today, first by birds singing in the rain, and then by Max going insane. Finally I got him to be silent and slept another half hour or so.

I think I'm becoming a hypochondriac. Either that, or I'm really, really sick and I'm not doing anything about it. I need a check up to tell me I'm okay... or if I have leprosy or something. I just know it's not scurvy, not with all the Vitamin C- enriched Kool-Aid Juice Jammers I drink. I just hope my pancreas isn't broken or something.

It's getting cold. Or perhaps it was just cold because of the rain, but sadly I must recognize the fact that soon the nice weather will be eradicated and replaced by the icy deathchill of winter.

And that, my friends, is a depressing thought to go out on.

So maybe my last thought tonight will be of fluffy kittens and happy puppies.

And Clone High on DVD.

Keep on rockin'
Scott Williams

PS: Didn't remember my dream last night. Good sign.

F: Lone Mantis of the apocalypse

Thursdays suuuuuuuuck.

First off, I can't shake these vivid dreams. I'm sinking slowly into depression as I realize how isolated I have become, I lack inspiration, and I'm pretty worn out from the work/school schedule.

The isolation thing has got me down. I feel so cut off from the whole world. I don't know why these things bother me, but there are little things these days that frustrate the hell out of me. Little childish bullshit things that just gnaw away at me. Little, childish, multi-faceted bullshit that is pissing me off the more I think about it. I'm miserable! And should I even expect anybody to come along and give me a reason not to be miserable? No! Of course not! Nothing in my life lends itself to pleasure, and I don't expect that to change. I'm venting my frustrations. Deal with it.

Everybody's coming home this weekend, and I'll be fucked if I see anybody or do anything of note. Seriously. I suspect there will be no "nice to see you agains" for Mr. Williams, no delightful small talk on the transition from high school, no catching up of any kind. I'm simply fated to sit here on my ass and twiddle my thumbs. Not long ago I was getting to a point where I didn't think of myself as being on the outside. Pipe dream that was, wasn't it?

Don't mind me. These are just the delusional, paranoid ramblings of a deeply disturbed, disgruntled individual. I know people do read this, but seemingly nobody who needs to gets it. And I don't really care about that... whatever, I'm thankful for all the interest that has been takien in my mundane little musings, but it's important I think that I at least acknowledge the fact that I'm seriously not okay.

I feel like a mix between Travis Bickle and Biff Loman. And if you're fortunate enough to get both of those reference then God love you, because that just means you're cool.

I'm just so fucking frustrated! I need to beat the shit out of something (notice I did not say "someone.") I have all this pent-up angst and anxiety and I get no relief. And the world drags me down (Cult reference. I'm still me.)

I feel like a child for going on about it as long as I have (6 paragraphs and counting.) But hey, let's not forget whose name is at the top of this fershlugginer thing. Catharsis, man! Fucker! To think, I nearly opened my home to people. And I still would, if anybody had any contact with me whatsoever. But they don't, and so my Saturday night will be spent the same way I ever spend Saturday night... watching Eric flip between SNL, MadTV and TNA Impact. And fuck you if you can't dig it.

But don't mind me. I slept in this morning and had to skip my shower to catch Mitrovica's class. I mean, obviously I did end up showering eventually (after class, about 10) but the whole day was off for me. I didn't get a good lunch, and blahhh. To quote a great philosopher, "life sucks, blahhhh." Although I did my usual "hm, it's thursday and I'm bored, why not check out Rosser's drama class?" (although it started out as "hey, who's that sitting out behind the music room? Why, it's Janessa and Robyn!") I'm fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally.

And I don't mean to bring you down, but you know these posts crop up occasionally. Something happens, I blow it out of proportion... it's not like it's even directed at anybody. It's just my sick little roundabout way of complaining against my life... whether it's anything I can, could or am in a position to change, I prefer to bemoan it in this passive-aggressive little tome.

Like I said, I'm miserable. Happy-go-lucky Scotto went on vacation, and left his bitter, lonely, psychopathic twin behind. Deal with it.

Fuck.

Keep on rockin'
...Williams.

E: Don't tell me I'm replaced

It's been a weird night, and a while back I thought I really needed to make a blog entry. And then I was frustrated because I couldn't get onto blogspot. And now I can and honestly... nothin'.

Today we gave Dad his birthday gift - the Very Best of Grateful Dead. I have to say, I was never much of a Deadhead, but the tracks I heard were actually very good. If I still had a download program I'd get a bunch of their tracks. As it is, I won't, but I'll be humming "Truckin'" for weeks to come.

I'm becoming more of a nighttime guy lately, I think. Maybe it's the late nights working, but I'd rather stay up. The problem is, my rationale is that I need something good on TV to go to sleep (usually,) and the last stop on that front is at like, 1, so I can't stay up too late. Plus, I have class tomorrow at 8, so I'm gonna have to get up early. I just wish I could stay up all night writing, though.

I did do a little writing, however. I hit a wall many months ago in my script for Work in Progress... I know how it's supposed to work out I just couldn't work past this one scene, and now it's done. It's not as meaty as I'd initially invisioned it, but that's what second drafts are for. I don't even know when I'd show this.

For weeks, I'd been pissed at my Mac because I believed it was incapable of printing on the school's network printers. And I found out yesterday that I was just doing it wrong. Go fig. I was humbled.

I'm feeling different now that the climate is changing. Smell is the scent most closely tied to memory, and lately everything smells kinda like... yes... New York. I know, get oer it, but seriously, it's weird. Probably because that was in the thick of spring and now we're in the thick of autumn and they've kind of got the same atmosphere.

Ugh... I have a ton of reading I've got to do. I don't wanna read, man. I wanna go back and do more writing. Except knowing my balls will be effectively busted in an authenitcally Australian manner if I don't get the reading done hampers my ability to focus on anything else... I guess I'd better get to it.

You all do your best and keep on rockin'
-He who is Williams

D: When multiple choice fails

Just a quick one, I think... I'm worn out. It's been a long day at work. Not nearly as bad as Wednesdays, however, I think I'm going to like the Tuesday beat. Still, my legs are tired. Thankfully, I actually get to sleep tonight, as opposed to Wednesday nights wherein, if I were to work, I'd get about oh, 5 hours all told.

It's just weird how, since my job requires no actual brain power to do, I mostly just let my mind wander on the job (something I was actually adivsed to let happen by Albert, who trained me.) I do my best to pass the time by muttering songs to myself, trying to reconstruct the track order of my favourite albums, but there are several moments when I'm just sort of thinking about life. Not, like, deep thoughts, just shallow reflections. I guess you could say it's the same fountain from which comes this blog.

Anyway, as far as I can tell from the extensive thought I've put into it, I think I'm okay. Not great, certainly could be better, but I'm finally levelling out. There was atime when I had no idea who I was, what I was doing or where I was going, but I'm focussed now, I've got a real future instead of me, I'm not jsut sort of floating insecurely in the moment.

My sympathies, however, to those of you that do have grief in the world. All I can do is look back on the times I was unnecessarily upset and I laugh. Don't get me wrong I still think I'm an idiot for some of the things I've done in my time, (several recent ones top the list,) but it's really getting better. And I feel fine. And I totally just squeezed two Beatles reference into one sentance.

I think that girl at work still dislikes me, if not outright hatred. I think she's at least trying, but I can't help but feel as though she has something agsinst me.

I got to work late today, nobody's fault. I was at the bus ontime, but I made the mistake of trying to catch the bus at school (and in the process delay my leaving home,) but the bus was overcrowded and I had to catch the 5:10. Unbelievable! That'll teach me to work smarter not harder.

It is at this point that I wonder exactly when life became work and school. It's never been either of those things.

I wonder how Doug feels. We used to have disagreements: he hated his job, I hated unemployment. Now that the situation is reversed, are we both happier? I'm going to say that I am, because work gives me two things - a paycheck, and something to complain about. And me, I love to complain.

Well that's the wisdom tonight. Keep on rockin'
My name is Scott Williams.

C: All you can take

I'm exhausted.

I thought for a while that it was getting colder, but it is a sweatlodge down here. Maybe it's because, thinking it was cold, we shut all the windows (which had been propped open for most if not all the summer.) I'm so tired my eyes aren't even really focussing, so I'm guessing I won't be posting too much tonight.

I also just had to write 1,000 words on Canada's treatment on the French Fact. And no, I have no idea what the "French Fact" really means, so I BS'd my way through it. I wonder if I've finally reached the point where my BS no longer flies and my instructors are gonna call me on it, or if I can actually BS my way through life from here on out. I guess I'll see from how well I do on this assignment. Friggin' Canadian History.

Ever MSN someone, and then they just say "hey, sorry, I was jsut leaving?" And you know you've done nothing wrong, and they've done nothing wrong, but you just feel like a fuck-up? It's embarassing. "Whoops, sorry, maybe I'll catch you later." And with me, it's always the people I hardly talk to, just to make it particularly scathing. "Hey, I hardly ever speak to you, but it looks like I picked a bad time!"

I'm just glad to have the weight of the movie off my shoulders. I can't thank Kyle enough for what he's doing.

I had one class today, and in it I literally did nothing. I had a few exercises I could've chosen to do in class, but I just sort of frittered my time away for two hours. And then at the end, the teacher for the 2:00 class in that room comes along and basically shoves us out the door. Even though the schedule says "12-2," teachers do not like it when you go to the full hour... because some of them are douches.

Chris Brown mentioned to me today that he felt the month had simply flown by, and I agree... to a point. It's definitely more tolerable than the day-to-day, same old, same old" drudgery that high school was. But don't kid yourself - it ain't a "blink and you'll miss it" scenario. It's jsut enough to keep you busy and fill your time.

I'm wiped, man. I couldn't continue this post if my life depended on it. I need rest. Work tomorrow... augh.

Listen, everybody who's still in Oakville, I'll be at Classic Bowl from 5-12 tomorrow night, and let me plead with you to come and visit me. I'd love some company. I know bowling is expensive and hey, who goes bowling on a tuesday night? But work is so tedious. Whoever you are, if you'd come by and just buy an hour, it could make my night.

Thanks a lot.

Keep on rockin
-Scotto

B: Sleep shall neither night nor day

So yeah, a second blog entry tonight; if not because something interesting happened, then to make up for my not being sufficidently on the computer all weekend.

I just finished my homework. I had to take the interview I did with Ana Yavari and turn it into an article. The inherent difficulty with this is that most articles involve interviews from a variety of sources. I think I actually did a good job, however, taking the story behind Ana's difficulty in applying to Sheridan, and actually making a soft news story out of it. Obviously this isn't hard news, (what Jarrett calls, "the car hitting the truck" or something,) but I think, jut barely, I managed to pull out an article that could, theoretically, be run in the paper (it wouldn't, and shouldn't, and if it were, I'd have actually spoken to somebody at admissions.) I made a joke that it's "just bad enough to actually run in the Sheridan Sun," just a little remark about a perceived lack of quality at the Sun. Not that I seriously think that, I just always think back to this incredibly biased and borderline offensive article they ran at the beginning of the semester about students transitioning to Macs.

To prepare for writing (actually this was an accident, but that's how it happened,) I watched Almost Famous today, and that put me in a good journalistic mood. Imagine if I had picked today to sit down and read the Transmetropolitan comics Kris sent me... the result would not have been happy.

Somehow, after it was done, I got to talking to Ana about it, and then the topic veered this way and that and it became a really weird, fun conversation, just like two old friends having a metaphorical drink and chilling. God, I need more of that in my life. Just, friendly conersation. I don't get that these days.

I'm going to have to do a lot of homework tomorrow. I've got a paper due in History and several exercises in Writing for Newspapers (which may very well be due tomorrow but I think we're a few classes ahead in due dates,) due Wednesday, that I can't do Tuesday night because of work.

Oh work... you bitch. Thanks to the odd scheduling of timecards I only got paid for one shift this week. Hopefully I'll be able to settle into a nice routine as to what shifts I get paid for (as in, more than one per cheque) starting with this one. I'm just not making enough money.

Mind you, I am making more than I was two months ago, but still... man was not meant to live on bread alone. Whatever that means, however it was to apply.

Well, I guess that'll be that for tonight. Two small entries seems appropriate to get back on track in this thing.

Not that blogging is really the most important thing in the world. It's just a great way to say "fuck, man! This is why life sucks."

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

A: A chum to all, a buddy to none

Truth be told, I shouldn't even be writing this. It's just been a long day and I do have a bit of homework to do. I just feel like I'm so bottled up at this point I need a release, and blog has always been my outlet for that.

Brother Eric, as I've said, was at that thing all week. Consequently, he didn't go on the computer much last week. So he was on virtually all weekend, much to my chagrin. I feel like I need at least a few hours each night jsut to sit down and gather my thoughts in front of the computer, even if I don't get on.

It doesn't look like the whole thanksgiving thing is happening, actually, since plans lie elsewhere for that. The sad thing is I had to go to Chris Brown for this information. I'm desperately out of the loop.

Shit, man, there's so much I could say lately. None of it important even remotely. And I can't even bring myself to type about it because my equilibrium is all off-kilter. So no classic "life sucks blahhhh" today. No energy.

I did have an intersting conversation with Eric, however. Mom is obviously dating this "Wally" guy. Except not only will she not own up to it, she spent the whole day venturing out on a two-hour journey to meet his sister and told us she was going "for a drive." A two hour drive, there and back, from like 2 until like 8. It's so pathetic in its transparency. And the conversation was about this method of hiding the truth versus our fathers', who just doesn't mention the truth until it's important to. While Dad's method is surely less convenient (he didn't mention Deb until his car broke down and she had to deliver us dinner,) Mom's is far, far more insulting to me personally.

I've met this Wally guy. He means well, although he didn't make a favourable first impression (vehemently insisting Sean Penn was in the Outsiders is not a good way to impress Eric or me.) It just seems as though mom is clearly not going for my Dad's type any longer. By which I mean, intelligent and capable. Dad, meanwhile, has found happiness with Deb, who is a warm, kind woman, so don't go thinking I am morally opposed to my parents dating.

So anyway, I have homework to get done. I've wasted a sufficient amount of time on this blog. Even though it may be relatiely short, I spent a long time sitting here with this window open, not typing.

Keep on rockin'
-Your Scotto