G2: Nothing left but to dance

It's hard, I think, not to get a little wrapped up in your own crap.

Yesterday I was in a funk all day and it's not hard to imagine why. I had trapped myself in this "oh my dreams have been squashed on woe is me and what am I going to do now?" cage. It's hard for me not to have an existential dilemma over shit like that. As much as I want to pick myself up and move on, it draws my attention to a few of the problems with the way life is right now.

I'm uninvolved. I feel like an observer, not a participator, if that makes sense. On friday, Roy and Nathan had all the students - or at least as many as they could wrangle - and going over the issue outlining the good and bad, and I just felt, "should I be doing more, so that it applies to me?" So what am I to do?

No idea. All of a sudden I went from having too much going on to pretty much static. The physics of how my life is going should be impossible. Where did all that energy go? It wasn't used, that's for sure. Hence, it is spent in me feeling like crap.

So thankfully, I started writing again last night. For a while I wasn't wanting to write, but I dove back in last night, feeling I had nothing else. It's nice to still be able to get a feeling of accomplishment from something.

I wanted to get a little more cheerful this weekend. Haasim had gotten some free tickets to see Play (symphonic performances of video game music,) and I was going to go see that. It's complicated why I didn't. I don't know how to put it. Maybe when I read this in the future, I'll remember, or maybe I won't. It's all in my head, anyhow.

A. and I had a conversation where we were on opposite sides. I was trying to accept the fact that I was staying in, and she would rather have. I hope she found her balance. It wasn't such a bad thing I didn't go. Didn't feel like it.

What can I say? I have my melodramatic moments. Many of them are catalogued here in this site.

Lacking energy. More to say later, perhaps.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

G1: A dream destroyed by rain

This post's title is a rare one that has relevance to the entry itself. I couldn't disservice this entry by doing otherwise. This is important. Let me gather my thoughts and begin.

I was wondering earlier why I even still have this blog. Just idly pondering, rhetorically musing to myself about how stale it may have become, how needless, after two and a half years almost and over 600 entries, the drudgery of daily life may not need further comment here. I began to think maybe I was doing myself a disservice and a disservice to my readers by continuing on this way. There have been times when I'd get aspirations of getting a new voice, of finding a new direction, of giving my online presence a rebirth, because maybe, just maybe, SWP wasn't worth the time anymore.

Any such insecurities were put to death by what happened tonight. On my way home from work, I knew the purpose of this blog was to continue to catalogue the insanity of everyday life through my own refracted lens.

It was the end of the night. It had been a wholly uneventful day. I went in to school, sat patiently through Poetry Analysis, came home, did dishes, ate lunch, lay around, and waited. At 2:45, I sprung into action, gathering up my gear and setting off for the mall. I arrived there just after three and went to Mr. Sub to pick up a dinner for later. It's the only thing in the food court that keeps for any length of time, and I'm not really supposed to take long breaks away from the kiosk.

So I took command of Boogie Wear, the kiosk that had hired me earlier that very week, and for which I left an illustrious 2-day career with Tim Horton's. Its set-up is very much of the temporary variety, a few thin metal racks with a few packaged costumes, a decent selection and, since we were doing 50% off this week, good prices. The register sat on some rubbermaid (or rubbermaid-like) drawers. Lynn, the woman who watches the stand during the day, left me a stool, bless her heart. My feet would already be tired before long.

I'd brought my computer, because I must've sensed the massive downtime I'd be feeling and could have prepared better for. It took some doing to access the mall's wireless connection, but before the end of the night I got surfing. I figured tomorrow, I'd bring a movie or TV DVD to entertain myself.

Around 8:00, I was getting excited. I had made very few sales and had hardly lookers beyond that. American Eagle was playing the same songs on a continuous 55-minute loop (I noted this by the frequency of Ben Lee's "Catch My Disease," a nice catchy song that may be overexposed.) But I was doing a decent job, enjoying it, and despite the soreness that accompanies any job, relaxed.

Fifteen minutes later, I got visited by a couple in their mid-20's, who were more interested in taking potshots about the costumes' quality than buying one. I joined them, as, having looked at them all day, I had a zinger or two, and we all had a few laughs.

After that, I was about to go to the washroom, when I spotted a familiar face. Now,Oakville's not that big a town, and Oakville Place is more or less the only mall around, so if you work for 5 and a half hours, you're gonna see some people. At this time, I ran into my old buddy Matty Oh and his cousin Cheryl, who apparently has a kid now. Not with him, but he seems attached in that fun Uncle sort of way. We caught up a bit, and he seemed amused by my new kiosk position. He even stopped by on his way out.

He was just leaving when Ali, the guy who'd hired me, walked up. I wasn't expecting to see him, but I wasn't taken too aback, so I went out of my business. "Scott, I've got some good news and some bad news." I hate 'good news/bad news' situations, and I wish it happened some other way so that I wouldn't have to build to it this way. He looked me square in the eye, and it hit me like a sledgehammer.

"We're done here."

Excuse me?

The storage facility where they were keeping all their merchandise was poorly built. It rained this week, and when they showed up, the whole roof had collapsed. Everything was ruined. no merchandise. No kiosk. No awesome job anymore for Scott.

What can I say? I felt horrible. Just horrible. This effing job had been the focal point of my life for the last week and a half. I was talking it up to everyone. I was excited. I was in a good place. And now it's all gone, all because it rained one fucking day.

Don't worry too much about Ali. Yeah, he's out quite a bit of revenue from the kiosks, but he did have insurance. Me, I'm worried about myself. I don't want to go back to Tim Horton's. Not after a fucking week. I was counting on this. Not just for the money, but so that it would be my place. I would have that place to comfort me. Nothing could be wrong in my life, if I'm going to a kiosk to work selling Halloween costumes. Maybe that's putting it too far, but I just loved having that job so much. I coveted it. That's the problem. I coveted it and I lost it. I fell hard and I fell fast. After all, that's what pride comes before. A fall.

So you can imagine, this is a huge letdown. The dream of working a kiosk was over as it barely began. All because of a stupid faulty roof and some lousy rain.

In any case, he was very re-assuring. He said that, being a guy with a lot of retail places in his company, he said he wanted to keep my name in case he opens something in Oakville. Whether he was just being nice or if he really thought highly of the two days I worked there, I won't know unless he calls me someday. It's not somethingI can count on, but I do hope for it.

In any case, this has been a long dramatic post. I was just thing how thing have come to this. I have no stability. Things have gotten so fragile that they can shatter in an instant like that and I have to rebuild. Before you know it, it's all gone Pete Tong. Washed away with the rain.

On the plus side, I got over my cold yesterday, thank you Cold-FX. Ladies and gentlemen, if you are suffering an early-autumn cold, may I recommend this wonderful invention? All it takes is three days, it strengthens your immune system and improves your lasting health. I'm a believer.

Anyway, that's my ballad for tonight. There are more angles to this thing that I'll have to remind myself (via this sentence, methinks,) to go over tomorrow.

Hopefully things can normalize. All I want is a little mediation. I've had so many highs and lows these past two weeks. All I want is the middle way. I call myself a Buddhist? Shit.

Hope you find your way, all. Keep on rockin'
-Scott

F6: The Styrofoam Anniversary

It's been a nice, quiet day. As I mentioned earlier, I got the day off from class, and elected to go get comics, because a not-so-complicated series of events prevents me from doing so on Saturday.

I went at the same time Eric went to school, so we walked all the way from our house to the corner of Kerr and Speers. There was some friction between us, we had a comically absurd yet somehow heated conversation about whether or not I'd ever had pumpernickel.

I also paid what I expect to be my last visit to the lighthouse of the year. It was chilly down by the lake. I'd brought a jacket but didn't need it for most of the walk. I needed it there. It was not unexpected. I'm sweating now.

I also went to bowl off, for the same reason as I got comics. I saw a bunch of people I used to work with, including the guy who basically replaced me, two of my old managers, and Feria, the bartender, who for the longest time was my only ally in the whole place. She was the most especially excited to see me. We caught up and she mused about how I could and should come back to work there sometime. For reasons that to longtime readers should be obvious, I don't see it happening.

I think my major problem is that I have a problem with traditional authority figures. I can't respect the authority of any institution that would hire me - the Groucho paradox ("I wouldn't want to belong to any club that would have me for a member.") I get snippy and impatient when people try to tell me to do things. That's why Tim's was a bit of a trainwreck and I was never happy at Classic Bowl. I'm not that guy. I can do anything when I'm shown how, but for some reason, I hate being told to. The kiosk is such a good fit for that. Nobody's over my shoulder.

It's a problem. It's my problem. I should work on it, but for now, I needn't worry aobut it. It's a current non-issue.

I just want to stop feeling guilty about what I did at Tim H's. They really seemed to need people, and I just ran out on them as suddenly as I arrived. How long will it take for me to be okay with it? Factually, I know it's fine, but I've got this pang in the back of my head saying "coward!" A week? Two weeks of kiosk work? When I can stop fearing getting a call from Mary-Lou saying "who do you think you re, not showing up? We hired you, you signed all those papers, and your excuse is bullshit! What's the real reason?!"

We all have these insecurities inside our heads. I'm just a lot more up front aobut them. I'm not insecure about my insecurities. I'm not afraid to admit when I'm irrational. And this anxiety is totally irrational. I have nothing to fear. I'm harping too much on it. I'm a yutz for even typing this much.

Beyond that, an uneventful day I suppose.

Life ain't bad. I'm going to be working tomorrow, from 3:30 to 9. Looking forward.

And for once in my life I mean that.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotts

F5: The scorpion and the toad

So I'm not feeling great. Better than yesterday, and getting better, but still headachy, still stuffy, still groggy.

We all deal with sickness in our own ways. Rather than regress to a state of helpless infancy, I like to power through and go about my business. It's important for my morale, I guess, that I don't idle to much when ill. So I went into school and designed my pages for the paper. I kept taking the Cold-FX and am feeling its positive effects. I had an herbal tea. I passed out on the couch for like twenty minutes in the middle of the day. So now I'm not hoping I'll be able to wake up tomorrow and be... okay.

The good thing about tomorrow is that Brian, the teacher of "Newsroom without walls," had to field some kind of meeting, and so flat-out cancelled our class. That gives me Wednesday off this week, which is quite opportune. I can go out, get comics, relax, provided I'm feeling up to it. Even marginally so.

I snagged my "bad toenail" a little earlier, and it's killing me. I can't wait to put this year-long infirmity behind me. It might even get to two years.

So much to the chagrin of local Oakville scenesters (I'm sure,) the Pettit Project appears to be selling their house. Maybe it means the band is breaking up, but probably not. All I know is that the house at the end of Pettit Court occasionally had a blue bus parked in front of it, and every now and again drums could be heard from the road. One day, someone pointed it out to me and said "The band The Pettit Project" lives there. All I know is that they were on an episode of "Radio Free Roscoe." Anyway, there's a 'For Sale' sign out in front of the house, and I'm amazed this paragraph has gone on as long as it has.

A friend of mine, not long ago, approached me with some problems. Now, romantically speaking, I'm the last one you might consider going to for reassurance. I'm pretty jaded on that subject, and I haven't got much encouragement to offer. I felt bad, though, because I had empathy for this friend. This person - whom I won't embarrass by mentioning by name - lamented the fact that she-or-he hadn't had much opportunity to interact with the desired sex, and that companionship was being craved. Perhaps not from a particular individual, but I know how it feels to look around and see people happier than you, and feel it will never happen. As I said, I've always been short on reassurance. If I had anything to say to this, though, it would be that there is always room in this world to find the proper companionship. It may seem dire... and I've had my fair share of dire situations (and am presently hardly in a place to be optimistic,)... but if you are kind and confident and persistent, she-or-he will appear. It ain't easy... fuck it is really not easy... but it's about patience and persistence.

Yeah, I know, when did I become Dear friggin' Abby, right? Well I was just a little struck when this person broached this topic, I wanted to offer... something, some kind of words, for better or worse. I don't even know if that person is reading, but the words are out there.

I was talking to my aunt about some of my writings I'd shown her, when I saw her on the weekend. She seemed very enthusiastic about them, although I showed them to her a few weeks ago and this enthusiasm has probably since died down. Naturally, because she didn't have a copy of them or anything, it wasn't like we could sit down and go over them, but she seemed to want to.

All I really want to do, as might be apparent from this site... is write, and have people enjoy it. I've spent a lot of time -- oh, if you only knew how much of my life so far -- honing my abilities and my craft and my style, trying to find out what people connect to, what attracts people, what interests people, of my generation and others. I'm speaking, at this point, about "Collection of Curiosities," which is my most important project for now. The various fragments I have shown people have been met with unmitigated positivity, mostly from people in my age range, but now from my aunt who is, I'll put subtly, a child of the 60's and 70's. I've hopefully gotten to the point where I can make that connection with such a wide age range and make it stick, and that this isn't just some freak thing because these are my friends and family.

I want to cut through the red tape and the regulation and the process, and get that deal. There's a lot of professional bobbing and weaving that could get involved in embarking upon this career. I'm about to blaze myself a trail.

So I'm going to update Interneta in a bit, and then I'm going to sit back and enjoy my evening. I got a few troubles, my health, my computer, but in time things will see to themselves.

Keep on rockin, you all out there,
-Your Scotto

F4: Crack a window, willya?

So, I'm sick. I made passing reference the other night to Eric being sick, and now it's quite clear that I've caught it just as he as getting better. I woke up this morning... ecch.

So I peeled out of bed and went down to get myself some Cold-FX. It seems excessive, but hey, it builds the immune system up. Maybe I'll be able to stay healthy thoughout the rest of the autumn and well into the winter. For the record, I feel like getting sick first thing in fall is bullshit and I hate that it happened to me.

Trooper that I am, I went in to school anyhow, loaded with whatever is the ingredient in Cold-FX. (It's North American Ginseng, for those keeping score.)

In Law class, we did a Mock Trial (without J. Reinhold,) and I played the prosecutor. It was tough goings, too, because all I had to go by was a bloody shoe and a missing cell phone to try to get a conviction on some random beating. So it didn't fly. I always figured I'd make a crappy lawyer, because finding the truth is so much more important to me than winning. So I lost.

So I more-or-less officially quit Tim's today. I told Maureen I'd call her on Monday to confirm what I'd said on Thursday. I did. I might have to call the main Sheridan catering office to get the point across.

"How I Met Your Mother" is one of the finest sitcoms on television these days. It's the one good multicamera show, because it keeps scripts tight and clever, and maintains emotional resonance when appropriate. The show that leads into it is called "The Class." It's a complicated concept show about a bunch of grown people reuniting from their third grade class (the premise, weak as it is, is explained in the first episode,) and features multiple intertwining storythreads that meander back and forth between themselves, melodrama galore, and painfully obvious comedy. The concept could theoretically have worked, but it is executed so weakly that it makes me sad.

Eric has something interesting on the horizon. It came up rather suddenly... maybe not as quickly as my first job, but still unexpectedly quick. It's not solid yet, and won't be for a few weeks if even then, but it's big. So until then, he'll be pacing frantically, wringing hands, fearing the future. I remember when I feared the future. Actually, it was only earlier today when, on an online survey, I put future down as something I fear (along with the future and eating in public.) But yeah, he's as nervous about the possibility of having a future as I ever was, if not moreso. He sits, amused at how this time last year, he was virtually nowhere, and now he's going places, potentially. The world's a wondrous place sometimes.

At some point, I also have to go to the OSAP HQ at Sheridan and be like, "Yo, I've got a job now, update my file fo shizzle." Maybe I might not phrase it that way, but everyone who knows me knows I really do talk like that. I guess that's why I keep getting black eyes when I go downtown.

Anyway, that about covers the gamut of whatever I had to talk about today. Not such an exciting day. Things will pick up later.

Until then, keep on rockin'
Scotto

F3: Radio with pictures

It's been an... eventful... couple of days, to say the least.

I've been dreaming this entry up since yesterday, before most of it even happened. I was at bowling, and in a pretty nasty place in my head. I was thinking, "Did you ever feel... stuck? I want to bowql, but I don't want to be in the league. I want to make money, I don't want to do the job I have. I want to be in school, I don't want to be a journalist." This triad of related contradictions highlights something inherently wrong with my place in life, but it shows promise. I'm gaining ground.

In any case, yesterday was busy as hell. It was a scramble to get from bowling to grocery shopping. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate groery shopping on Saturday mornings. I've grown so attached to the idea of Thursday night groceries that it's an appalling concept to me to consider rejoining the trogs who populate the aisles on your typical Saturday. No offense, but as Sartre said, "Hell is other grocery shoppers."

For those that don't get the joke, Sartre actually said, "Hell is other people," but he might've said the other thing while he was grocery shopping.

From there it was a race down to the kiosk to make my 1:00 start time. After about twenty or thirty minutes of orientation and schedule-planning, I was left to my own devices as man of the kiosk.

...I... love... this job. I love any job where I don't have to tell myself, "I'll get used to it," I don't go home and have to chill out, have to soothe my aching feet and back, have to shower out the scent of coffee or beer. How did I end up smelling like beer after working a night at a bowling alley? I should've smelled like oil or something, but no, I most often smelled like beer!

If I'm gonna smell like beer, I should be getting drunk while I'm at it!

Anyway, the kiosk job is like a dream. My only qualm is that it lacks a chair, which is going to be key in the future. I don't know if Ali has one in mind, but I'd like to discuss the idea with him. In theory I should be walking around the kiosk at all times, but I'm also supposed to eat while at the kiosk, so I'd prefer to be seated whilst doing that.

I worked fairly dilligently, being patient with several customers. I got a few stories. Many mothers were concerned that the costumes wouldn't fit their children. We're supposed to assuage these fears with a sample from a costume (as opposed to opening the package itself,) but the sample really just raises more questions. So this newfie woman is picking out a costume with her grandson, but doesn't honestly believe it will fit him, and fears the "no return" policy like the black death. Eventually, my helpful smile and her son's hectoring convinced her, on the condition that, should it not fit, he would "Goo wid'out." Another woman's son wanted to be Captain Jack Sparrow, but bought the pirate costume anyhow, figuring, "he could wear it around the house." and with our 50% off opening week, how could she not? The last interesting one I raked in was a woman whose daughter was interested in our version of Snow White, called "Snow Girl" (more about that later,) but the lass was a bit younger than the recommended age. Against my better judgment - and hoping the gamble would yield a sale if it paid off - I opened up the costme. I resisted, but couldn't argue her stupid logic that "It's just taped shut at the bottom." Grrr. It turned out the damn thing was way too long and I let her go. Now I know.

The most amusing thing is that a good number of the costumes, particularly the adult ones, aside from general "pirate wench" and "bloody surgeon" costumes, you get a good number of knock-offs with amusing names. A Marilyn Monroe costume, for instance, is labelled, "Hollywood Film Star." An obvious Austin Powers getup is known as "Male Character." Male Character! The best may be that pimp is known as "Big Daddy," and hooker is called "Big Daddy's Girl," and is, according to the picture, the nastiest, grittiest, least flattering skanky streetwalker I've ever seen.

Kiosk life is good. The pay is good, the hours are good, the location is nice (although the uphill trek home can seem long after a long day on the job, I can deal.) I got home and immediately knew that I had made the right choice.

I came home, kicked around a bit, and then realized, it's CB's birthday, time to go get plastered or something.

After a great deal of negotiation, I snagged a ride over to the site of revery with Pat Visintini and Chris Ferguson. Part of the deal was, however, that we stop by a show at the Rising Sun, a dojo down by Fourth Line that has music sometimes, I guess. The place was just that, a dojo, darkened with smoke machines a high schoolers running around in circles and cheering the group on. Pat and Chris' friend from work plays trumpet in this ska-punk band. They were actually pretty good, including an appearancer of what was dubbed "Ska-rmonica," we only really saw two songs, and made our way to Conorton's family home.

And there they were, a few strategic members of the usual gang, and a few of Conorton's friends (as is his perogative,) mostly drinking and playing poker. The night went on, my drinking limit got pushed to as I had CB pick me up a sixer of Stella (and, it being his birthday, I naturally paid him back,) I took four and neglected water, which was bad. Did not feel terrific this morning, I've got to say.

The night was mostly uneventful but still rather jovial. I got home courtesy of Miss Laura Gurnham and promptly did my best to sober up before bed (as I mentioned earlier, to little avail.) i also got on MSN, which is not recommended. Anyone who's ever drunk-MSN'd me knows I'm not a fan of that idea. it's a good way to annoy your friends and make an ass of yourself to no-one's delight and your own regret. Not that I said anything humiliating to anyone, but the possibility is always in the air with those elements combined. I just caught up with Robyn (who, to my chagrin, turned out to actually be in Oakville this weekend, yet I was unaware,) and wished her a good night, ever the nighthawk.

I woke up this morning, as I mentioned, in a less than commendable condition. Not too severely hung over, it still ended my undefeated streak of well-fought nights of consequence-free drinking. Maybe I was out of prctise, but I'm usually better about taking care of myself. Well, it's a reminder for next time. Water is key.

There was a family gathering, for which Eric and I made the dinner, due to mom's infirmament and other reasons. It was praised, although Eric's been sick so maybe it's a bit suspect. My own nose is running and I hope I don't come down with whatever everyone else in the world appears to be having.

Anyway, that's about the size of it. I could go deeper, but my inability to have caught up sooner means this was one long effing post. Don't know when I started, but it's 11:31 now and I've been writing virtually nonstop. So, yeah.

More later I guess. I considered splitting it, but I covered jsut about anything. Might think of more later. Went a little light at the end.

Goodnight, my followers.

Keep on rockin'
-The Scott

F2: Merely figments

I wonder about that word, "figment." Can you be a figment of something other than the imagination, or was the word created simply for that saying. Could you say, "pickles are a figment of lunch?" I'm not sure. Actually, I'm sure not. That sounds ridiculous.

Maan I'm tired. I'm a little sapped from a lack of proper beverages around here. We need groceries in a bad way. I'm nursing the last bottle of water in the house.

School today was kinda funny. I was wore and stiff from worl last night so it was a bit of a trick to schlep my way out of bed and to school for 8...15. And when I arrived, it turned out Leslie, the teacher of History, had been caught in traffic and wouldn't arrive for an hour. Yow.

Soo.... I went down to meet the kiosk guy today, and... apparently he got caught in traffic as well, because the other employee - Amber - and I were waiting for over a half hour before I got word that he wasn't showing. So now we're expected to get right into this Kiosk thing tomorrow, diving right in. Well, it wouldn't be a first for me, and it isn't as complicated as making 1,000 cups of coffee.

I had a bunch of stuff I wanted to talk about before this post was started. It went a little deeper than what I did today. It was some catch up, emptying the queue of topics, type of material. But I passed out a bit earlier, crashing on Brando's bed, and it suddenly flew from my mind. It's the damnedest thing.

Anyway, I'm gonna go crash in my own bed, Big day tomorrow. Needs sleep. Hopefully I'll tomorrow remember what I was going to say.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

F1: Rats in the Cellar

Somehow, I knew attempting to quit a job I'd only held for three days would be one of the most awkward experiences of my life.

I got in late tonight. Tim's was understaffed, which was bad because... we're the fucking Tim Hortons at Sheridan and we're always busy. However, I had a much easier time today, as my function for the entire 8-hour shift was just to make coffee. Consequently since getting home, I have had the aroma of coffee.

After an interminable session fo cleaning up, I was almost out the door when I finally pulled back the hammer. I had been rehearsing it in my head all day but know it was going to heavily rely on my improv abilities. That's what I tell myself to rationalize any time I out-and-out lie. Okay, it's not the nicest thing in the world to tell your employer, "I've only been here two days, but I'e found a better job."

In the end the excuse I went with was one I knew I was going to have to pull out but felt wrong about doing - school. That's bullshit, man. I made some crap up about school being chaotic. It's hard to explain (that was part of it, saying I couldn't explain and being vague.) I wanted to talk about it being an "unforseen change" or an "opportunity" of some kind, but those words flew out of my head when the moment came.

It was awkward, as I said, I can't reiterate it enough. Awkward. All day, Maureen had been praising me, showing me her generous side, telling me how much I was learning and getting better. We had a long talk. I swore I would praise her when I officially cut ties with her superior next week, so as to not imply it was because of her. She hoped I could still work sometime, but with my being employed elsewhere, it won't be in the cards.

I didn't officially quit though. I haven't got that kiosk job yet, so I don't intend to jump overboard without a lifejacket. I just told her I was probably going to have to quit. I implied that maybe, maybe I could come back (technically pretty true,) and she gladly swore to give me a good reference, should I need it. Good to know I made such an impact in my first two weeks.

Though dad seemed to approve of the notion on Wednesday when it was a mere possibility, (acknowledging that it's not the greatest job and that the financials will probably work out,) mom seemed... disappointed when I told her today. That was the other thing that made me feel guilty. She said she thought it was something I could go with. There are times when my mother frustates me, but I don't mean to hurt her. This whole Tim Hortons thing was a bit of an accident and it's too bad she got mentally attached. Maybe because she was the one who showed me the ad for Sheridan's hiring in the first place.

It's been a weird fuckin' week, man. An emotional rollercoaster of sorts. I was rollnig along, then I got dipped and got a job. Then I looped around and felt like I'd accomplished something. Then I barrell-rolled with joy when the kiosk people got back down to me. Now it's that next big hill before the ride is over.

Me and my metaphors.

Also I hurt my thumb within minutes of starting work today. I jammed it in the cup dispenser and it started bleeding. Not good in the food service biz.

I hope my stupid little lie doesn't turn into something nasty. It was not my finest moment. But I was under pressure.

That's about all there is to report tonight. I can't wait until this whole sordid affair is behind me and I can get back to my reality.

Time to go relax. Tomorrow is History, which should be a decent class.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

Return of addendum 12:29 AM: I can't believe I didn't mention it's the first day of fall. And thanks to work, I missed the animal sacrifice. The goddess of the equinox will not be pleased. Really starting to get that autumn feeling. I remember some late-august leaves dried on the ground and thinking eerie omens. Now they are coming to pass. Such is life. The cycle as ever goes on.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

E5: The only road I've ever known

I used to dislike the song from which the title came. "Bittersweet Symphony" by the Verve (or was it the Verve Pipe? I always get tripped up on that.) For some reason, I found it annoying and melodramatic. I've since gained a bit more appreciation for it, perhaps thanks to Lukas' performances of it on Rockstar, but in general before that. A maturation of musical tastes.

A quick post tonight (in contrast to yesterday's, I suppose,) but in that vein something of an important one. Remember how I said, "I've still got a feel out to that halloween store, and if they still want to hire me, I'm going to jump off this Tim Horton's ship, presumably before I even get my first paycheck"? Well, strangely enough, that's exactly what happened when I e-mailed them and they asked to meet with me on Friday.

How is it that things seem to work out so well without my putting forth much effort? That they just fall into place sometimes?

Despite the fact that I had hoped it would resolve this way, I had no idea it would actually work. It was with substantial surprise that I read that e-mail. Funny how things keep happening unexpectedly. It's funny how the unexpected sometimes works to one's advantage. And yet you can't go around expecting the opposite of what you expect, because then what's unexpected will be expected and never really happen and you'll be back where you started, but worse.

Sorry. I had a point once, I swear.

Oh, right, work. Before getting the e-mail, I got dad's blessing. I had told him about it and he expressed sympathy, seemingly knowing that Tim Horton's isn't he best place to work. I guess James gave him the skinny when he used to work there. I told him I was still thinking about this mall place (apparently a kiosk -- fun) and he seemed to approve.

The plan will go ahead like this: I have to work tomorrow. That's a given. On Friday, I will come to the kiosk and see if this thing is going through. If that's the case, I will promptly inform MaryLou and Maureen of the unfortunate turn of events* and proceed to work at the mall until Halloween, at which time I will have accumulated enough money to be financially well-off for... oh, I don't know, a few weeks? A month? I'm not a big spender. After all, I've been out of work for 9 months, never once dipped below the red line.

*Naturally, I have to come up with some kind of spin, or perhaps even outright lie, that doesn't make me look like a jerk. I'm thinking a good way to start is, "I know this seems very sudden." In the end, there might be no way to make a clean break from these people, but it's going to be done, goshdarnit. This is the way things have to be.

So that's the story for today. I'll let you know how things work out when it's all sorted out.

Beyond that, today was a fairly uneventful day. It was the day I'd promised myself on Tuesday. Good times.

Things are looking weirdly good. I'm cautiously treading onto this uncertain ground. Wish me well.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

E4: Take what you can

So did you ever wake up one morning and be like, "Hm, it's tuesday. I'll go to school, I'll do my work on the newspaper, and then I'll come home, play video games and chill all night?" I was really looking forward to that.

But stupid me.... stupid, stupid me, thought, "okay, what harm could come from giving another call to those Cafeteria people and maybe get some kind of interview." I made the call, and while the phone is ringing, I think, "Please be the machine. Please don't be the machine. Please be the machine. Please don't be the machine." I was panicky. It was the machine. I left the same message I left a week ago, left my number and went about my business.

I practically had my neck out the door for an errand when the phone rings. My stomach sinks. I know it's them. It is. I answer. They offer me the job. They ask if I can come down today.

A-hum-whatnow?

Well I kind of got suckerpunched, and I was totally unprepared to weasel my way out of it. So I say, "sure, I can come..." blah blah, a few details, by 2:30, I'm there. And I'm nervous as hell. This was a far cry from the lounging and playing video games I had planned. After being issued a uniform (without any fuckin' pockets?) and an assload of paperwork, I'm officially working at the Tim Horton's at Sheridan.

Nice move, Scott. Hardly a day goes by you don't complain about the lines at that place. Now you're serving them. Way to go. Idiot. Somehow, I succeeded by accident.

So it's starts off, I'm the little bitch. I can't sweep fast enough, I'm standing around too much, etc etc. Usual first day hassle, I guess. After an hour or so of misery, I'm shuffled into the bagel corner. Not bad. I get flashbacks of my days in the Cafeteria serving the public. I can make a bagel, and I did that for a good portion of the afternoon.

By the time it's my dinner break, I've made too many bagels to ocunt and I can't eat. I want a Coke, but opt for water. And then I sit down someplace quiet with my bottle of water, and utter to myself those five little words made famous by G.O.B. Bluth all those years ago...

"I've made a huge mistake."

The evening goes on. I take to making people's coffee after the luncheon-dinner rush is over and the late-after-school crowd starts filing in. Plus, it keeps me busy in a way that making bagels didn't always satisfy.

At lasy 9 O'Clock comes and Maureen, the Manager, closes the gate. Following a prolonged cleanup session (during which I reverted back to my little bitch status,) I at last heard those magical words, "you can go home." I worked 7 hours. The place was hot, I hadn't eaten and to this moment feel no desire to. I schlepped my gear back home though the sketchy forest and sat down...

and I went to the fridge...

and I got that Coke I had promised myself earlier that night, and teased myself with all throughout...

and I opened it, and took a sip.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the feeling of accomplishment.

So I woke up this morning, my biggest concern was, what is mom doing about dinner? The afternoon could not have veered further from that train of thought.

So I've got this job. I'm not going to lie, I'm telling people I don't know how long I'll be there. I expect to quit, quite honestly, before long. Remember last year, when I was like, "I'm totally not going to stay at this bowling alley past November." Okay, I made a bit of a liar out of myself by staying into January, but I essentially stuck to my guns. I've got a taste for quitting. Plus, I've got something of an escape plan. I've still got a feel out to that halloween store, and if they still want to hire me, I'm going to jump off this Tim Horton's ship, presumably before I even get my first paycheck. And then I'll work until Halloween, rake up some dough, and be set for a while.

The alternative is that I work for Tim Horton's at Sheridan until I kill myself, but I suspect the length would be similar. And I wouldn't get to keep the money I made, because I'd be dead. You can't take it with you.

Not that it's all bad. It's a decent day's work for what I assume is fair pay. The people are generally nice and adaptable, and the work is do-able. And, as I summed up to mom upon my arrival home, "at least I didn't have to drive all the way out to Mississauga to do it."

Unrelated tangent: there's something about little golf pencils that makes you want to steal them. That's just a fact. Whether at a mini golf place, a bowling alley, or a grocery store, you just want to walk away with it. I try not to, but it's not like I didn't snag a few from Classic Bowl, advertently and otherwise.

The Daily Show is running a retrospective of a great feature long past, "Even Stephvens," which was a brilliant debate piece between Steve Carrell and Stephen Colbert, both of whom have, according to Jon Stewart, "become lost to obscurity." It shows that these guys didn't suddenly turn up one day and be funny. They've been hilarious for years and people have recently taken severe notice. The future looks decent.

Anyway, although I could ramble on more about work and my already-Machiavellian designs on leaving it as suddenly as I arrived, I think tonight's post has reached its end, and I'll save it for another day.

Nobody tell anybody about my plan.

And never, ever, ever, be available to come down "today." You need two days at least. REMEMBER THAT.

I have to go lie down.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

E3: Storm's a brewin'

A few days ago, on the 11th, this blog passed its 600th post and I hadn't even noticed. I rarely pay that much attention, though, so it's all right.

Whatever the date says on this entry, it's not accurate. I started writing this one like two nights ago and then let it sit. I didn't like it. It was just me complaining about being sore and shit for no good reason and although I generally have a policy of posting whatever comes to mind here on the blog (it is the most popular site on the internet for a reason, after all) that was just too much. I didn't feel like taking an entire post to reiterate the same complaints I've been making all week/year/life. Tat aoin't me, G.

It probably says Saturday the 16th. It's Monday the 18th now. I'm in the newsroom, between doing anything. Filling the time with blogging.

Things are looking up, anyhow. I was sore (as I mentioned) on Saturday when I wrote the aborted post. That has clearly since gone away (it was due to twaeking my back in the wrong seating position, taking a long walk and of course bowling -- in reverse order.) I finally got down to Mac support to get my software, so hurray, I am officially equipped to be a journalism student.

If I have time, I might pay a visit down to the cafeteria, and see if they still want me to take that job. It's annoying they haven't called back... nor have the Halloween people. Mwerf, as we used to say.

My buddy Joe is sitting next to me playing Mario 64 on his Mac emulator. It ain't easy tohugh, since the keypad is hardly representative oif the analogue stick. He's doing a decent job with it though. I just wouldn't expect him to beat Bowser anytime soon.

As the Boomtown Rats sang all those many years ago, "I don't like Mondays." I stupidly got up early and came here to see if I was needed. I'm not, or I won't be, until noonish. I should bring a DVD or CDs or something. I could totally see rocki'n the layout to the rhythm of Dexy's Midnight Runners.

Okay, I'm probably the only person in the world who legitimately likes Dexy's Midnight Runners. That's okay. Their version of Aretha Franklin's Respect is epic.

There's a comic out right now that I am really digging and would recommend even to non-comic readers out there. (Actually there are a ton, but this is the least comic-like.) On Saturday when I went to the comic store, I bought a little book called "Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life" volume 1 and really enjoyed the humour, concept and overall story. I won't really describe the plot, but it's a blur of fantasy and reality the likes of which is rare to come by in this day and age. The most intriguing part to me was that it takes place in Toronto, so every now and again there's a reference to Second Cup or Pizza Pizza, and the generally unique atmosphere of the local scene (a band plays a song at the end of their set called "Last Song Kills the Audience..." but it really just knocks them unconscious for a half hour.) I know it's a weird idea to try and inject music into a comic book, but the songs aren't exactly the point. I'm probably going to show this book to people, like I did with Bone (which reminds me... Kershaw STILL has those,) and hopefully get a reaction.

Now that I've plugged my latest fascination, and it's nearing 12 noon, it's time to sign off. hopefully later or tomorrow or at some future date in time I'll have more interesting material... but why would I choose now to suddenly become interesting? Pssh. You should know better.

Keep on rockin' now
-Scotts

E2: How history used to be

I'd forgotten this feeling. The Friday feeling. I don't have to explain it. It's the tiredness that I didn't expect, though, weary after a long week.

The mounting little frustrations are really starting to chip away severely at the stone resolve of my coping ability. I've got a lot of my mind lately. Between trying to decipher whether or not I might be getting a job, keeping up with assignments/classwork, computer woes both with the Mac and the PC, home troubles and internal turmoil, life ain't grand for ole Scotto. I'm trying, yeah, as much as I ever do, but you know it ain't easy.

Today was World History. Leslie managed the astonishing task of tackling 1500 years of human history in a 3 hour class as prologue to the next 13 weeks which cover a mere 100. Seems a bit imbalanced, but the class ought to be good. I've been a bit of a history guy for a while, particularly since Ancience Civs. What can I say? I tell people, "History is the ultimate story," y'know?

One week down, 13 left. To think, the weeks passed much more quickly when I had nothing to fill 'em with. But if you spend all your time bemoaning the passage of time... well shit mang, time ain't gonna pass at all. Complaining about slowness of time is a temporarlly intert activity. It causes time to slow to a near standstill while you're doing it, because fuck man, don't you have anything better to do than complain about how slowly time is going by?

I've recently -- as of this post -- discovered that I may be prone to sudden vitriolic outbursts wherein I intersperse vocab words with profanity. Fuckin' garrulous and shit. Maybe it's time to settle down.

Much to the assured dismay of many of my friends, Richard Karn has been replaced as host of the Family Feud. I did some probing into the issue (much like a real reporter might,) and found that many "old school Feud Fans*" felt he was doing a bad job, or at least not honoring the Richard Dawson position, what with his folksiness and bearditude.

*If you have the time or energy to consider yourself an “Old School Fan” of Family Feud, I lament your life’s lack of meaning. As much as I appreciate the Family Feud, I was blessed with enough perspective to know that registering every little complaint about the person hosting that show doesn’t rank high on the priorities.

The new host is John O’Hurley, whom you might remember as Elaine’s off-beat boss J. Peterman at the catalogue which bore that name on Seinfeld. Of late, he had been seen as an example of what kinds of Stars get to be on “Dancing with the Stars.” I remember him as the host of To Tell the Truth, a show which hit and miss and deservedly cancelled not long after its revival. He has a quality that makes him sound very smart and self-assured. I don’t know whether or not he really is smart, but he’s good at sounding like it, which is a decent quality in a game show host. I liked Karn, though. He was friendly and warm and yelled every now and again; a man of the people, exciteable.

But, given the topic of two paragraphs ago, it looks like I’ve just got to shrug it off. Karn had a good run. They don’t get second chances. Richard Dawson got to come back, but he made the show. Ray Comb didn’t get a second chance.

I want to be able to write. I haven’t gotten any decent writing done in a while, and it’s almost time for that. However, my ideal writing conditions have me isolated from the world via headphones, and the headphones hasten freezing. And when the computer freezes every 47 seconds, it’s difficult to get a satisfactory level of writing in. Hence the ole dilemma. And the Mac just isn’t equipped to handle anything other than basic web browsing and music-playing.

Life’s full of roadblocks. In time, you might find your route.

Keep on rockin’
-Scotto

E1: The martyr of love

Though the days seem shorter, the weeks seem to crawl endlessly.

On a day-to-day basis, you go home, and think, maybe, "boy, that was a quick day." Then you realize it's only Wednesday and it feels like an eternity has passed since Monday. The paradoxical passage of time when one is in school. The next thirteen-and-a-half weeks will be interminable, even if the days are racing by filled with activities.

Still stuck in employment limbo, I await word from either of my potential employers. I'll try contacting them again tomorrow if I hear from neither of them beforehand. I hope my lack of willpower to make contact today hasn't slightened my chances. you never know with these things.

Today was my first ever "Newsroom Without Walls" class, as pretentious-sounding of a name as that is for a class, that's a pretty decent description. It's about location reporting, online editing, video stuff, the fun side of journalism I guess. The instructor, Brian (I think,) is a young guy who was making his teaching debut. Now, I've had my fair share of debutant teachers, and this guy had it down. He reminded me a bit of Mr. Wilkinson, the guy who took over from Ms. Wilson when she gave birth midway through Grade 12 English....... ah, not the class, but the year in general. Anyway, he was pretty charismatic, he knew his stuff, he was engaging. It was hard to get the people engaged at 8:00 in the morning, mind, but he was up there, riffing and scatting all over his material and it was enjoyable. We made chit chat about Rockstar: Supernova, a show for which I have expressed appreciation throughout the past few weeks on this blog.

It had its finale tonight, Supernova. As frustrating as it was that Global fucked up in the worst kind of way and did not show the actual first half hour, instead broadcasting some kind of retrospective special that wasn't part of the package, at least they got their acts together by the midway point. As confused as I was to be getting all this recap stuff, I was even more confused when suddenly Lukas is performing "Bittersweet Symphony" and Magni, the Icelandic guy, is nowhere to be seen. I guess he was somehow eliminated during the first half. In any case, the winner was eventually revealed to be (spoiler alert,) Lukas, which was interesting. I like him, but then, I liked them all. And he's Canadian, which I guess proves the theory I had from day 1 that all the winners of these RockStar programs were going to end up being Canadian. I thought that Toby's poppier songwriting effort stood a better chance than Lukas' very grungy Toronto emo-goth chic image and sound. Or whatever he is. Unique, that's for sure (although he's been compared visually to Canadian SingerpSongwriter Hawksley Workman, which is funny.)

I'm writing this on my MacBook, because I'm resting my PC. I terms of being able to not crap out at any moment, the Mac has my PC beaten, but a good PC I would rather have than this computer. Let's not get into the computer politics by now, though. I don't even like to argue about them anymore.

I was walking into class today and suddenly I passed Ben Tran, who was, like many WOSS kids, goes to Sheridan to get coffee. Now, I don't approve of high schoolers coming to my school and clogging up the lines, they're plenty crowded as it is. however, I find it hard to be mad at Ben Tran. He's Ben Tran! What can I say? I still remember fondly his Jeff Allsop impression back in New York. See, that's cause for nostaliga. Dammit.

I also ran into Kyle, which was not surprising, although I haven't seen Ana once at school in all the time we've been there. He seems to be enjoying his first few days.

Most unexpectedly though, I ran into Linda Ferguson, mother of Chris and Cary. Apparently she teaches there now, and by some freak accident I was going to hang out with the gang in the Newsarium, where she had just taught a class. That's one for the books, I say.

My schedule's a strange one. I'm suddenly realizing exactly how much downtime I get. It's quite phenomenal. I was at home by 1, and I didn't have to hang around as long as I did.

This laptop is getting kinda heated. Which is annoying... laptop that overheats your lap. Stupid. Could cause serious lap damage. Sweating, actually. I think that's when you know it's time to go, when your lap gets heated.

Godforsaken mantis.

Have a good night all. Keep on rockin'
-Scott

D4: I don't wanna go to Spain.

Now, I could've sworn I had a title for this post, but I couldn't remember it, so I lifted that one from a friend's MSN.

The fact that I seem to be getting better as a human being might be the scariest thing of all. Weird? Somehow. It doesn't seem like that should be so bad, but how it managed to creep up on me, if it's true, is a little off-putting. Somewhere along the line, I guess, I became whatever people see me as, and I didn't realize that it seems to work. Not to speak too abstractly. I guess I'm suddenly realizing I'm not the guy who sat at the end of the table and didn't talk all lunch period anymore.

Today was quite an uninteresting day. The fun thing about journalism is how long the cycle takes to start up. There was nothing today except a kind of guilt trip from Roy about how not all the roster positions were filled and certain people had to take on more responsibility. I cheerfully ignored this and finished watching American Graffiti on Haasim's computer. The fun begins tomorrow. and by fun, I mean... work.

The problem, as I see it, is one of technicalities, which always seem to trip me up. I got this fancy new MacBook, which is nice, I guess, but it has no software. What in bloody hell am I supposed to do having a laptop thrust upon me that can go on the internet and... nothing else? So I've got to get my software, before anyone realizes that I can't do the job I've signed up for at the newspaper.

...in the words of GOB Bluth; "I've made a huge mistake."

Things ain't bad though. They'll be better when this job thing gets sorted out. Right now it's looking messy.

But we'll see how it turns out.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

D3: This one's yours

Well, here we are.

It was, as I figured, back to the grindstone, with minimal re-introduction, bascially getting back into the swing of things. It was a long day. So very, very long.

It began sometime before 7. I wasn't up intentionally, but the commotion was so great that I was awakened. I lay there until 7:30, then I got up and went to school for the 8:00 meeting. Then I hung arund with Haasim, Joe and Mansoor... until the 1:00 meeting. That's a lot of downtime. Especially since, after the hour-or-so second meeting, we had class... at 4. Yep, more downtime. Hooray.

There's a lot of startup process involved, but thnigs are going along.

The big reason why I'm so tired, I guess, is because after the 4:00 class, I had to rush over, via bicycle, to Williams Coffee Pub, (not very close,) where I was supposed to meet someone for a job interview. Yeah, I wasn't going to mention it until after the interview happened, but after xhausting myself by schlepping all the way out there, what happens is that mom pulls up and tells me that the job called and asked to reschedule. Man, I should get a cell phone by now.

That just sorta lends creedence to my old belief that nothing ever goes the way I figure. I was desperate to work over the summer and I got no result. I apply for a job in the fall almost as a lark, and suddenly I'm bombarded with opportunities (more on that later,) and yet the matter can't be as simple as, get an interview, get a job. The universe must jerk me around.

My thoughts are so disorganized. I wish I were writing a better, more coherent, more amusing post on this subject, but I'm absolutely wiped after everything. And I've got four more days of this. And then thirteen weeks straight. Hoy.

So everyone reading this who goes to Sheridan and is not in Journalism - both of you, if you're still out there - stop by one of the newspaper areas and pick up the Back to School issue. See that front page? That's my baby. I made her, all by myself. I'm its mother.

Weird? Yeah? Okay, moving on.

Today was the first Law & Ethics class I ever took. It being the whatever'th anniversary of the World Trade Center attack (5 years, apparently, where has the time gone? Oh yeah; war.) we spoke a bit about that, but mostly about Katrina (Hurricane, not Coburn,) and Steve Irwin. The debate was whether or not Irwin's death footage should ever be viewed. I think no. It's a vile type of voyeurism that makes a person want to view another man's death - especially if it's an accident - and it's not to be encouraged. I'm not even talking about watching people have rubble crush them. This is about wanting to watch a specific person's death. That's a no-no.

Life's getting moving.

Keep on rockin'
-The Scott

D2: There's someone on everyone's toes

I don't want to feel like tomorrow's the first day of school.

I had that feeling last year, for obvious reasons. New places, new faces, new teachers, new everything. Now it's kinda old hat. Back to the grind, back to the people, back to business as usual. I don't want to feel like I'm starting again, I just want to continue on as though there had never been a 4-month interruption to my college routine.

The first day of school is always a weird one. Most years - including this one - you both know and you don't know what it's going to be like. The same but different.

John, the new boarder, moved in. He's not the guy I envisioned when mom described him, but then, mom's never been that good a judge of character (I say this because she always seemed to do a 180 on whatever she said at first about the previous two.) He seems like a pretty decent guy. Best of all, no pet.

Despite my complaint that I've been watching far too much Star Trek, I've decided to continue that theme into this last weekend of my "summer"* since Space has been showing all the movies this weekend. Now, I haven't been watching all of them, but we got bored and put on Generations (not a great flick but probably the best of the 'bad ones'... with the possible exception of "Final Frontier," whose disastrous final moments are terrible... terribly funny that is.)

*It's still technically summer, but it's been chilly. Like I said earlier, pant-weather now.

I've got some business tomorrow. Can't really say just what it is at this point, but when it's over with I'll let you know what went down.

I guess that'll be that then, for tonight.

See you on the other side.

And but of course, keep on rockin'
-Scott

D1: The last good idea in yer head

I have no idea how to begin this post.

There's virtually no substance to it - at least, not in the sense of, "I did something today, let me tell you about it." There's not really much to tell. I'm just... anxious, I guess. Life's got me sitting on edge, perched and ready to plummet.

Take mom, all doped up on painkillers (which she, perhaps ironically, is denying my dog,) fixated on housekeeping (probably not good for her wrist,) asking me to throw out my old t-shirts since she got me a bunch of new ones. Since when getting new clothes means obliterating my old ones, I have no idea. I like those weird AmWay t-shirts I got a few years back, which say "Everybody Get Free" on the back. I don't really know what it means, and they're stupid, but I think it's funny. Plus they fit. Who's going to throw out a shirt that fits? Why should I have less clothes?

Or my brothers, who are fixated on this little feud of theirs, trying to make the other tap out because of some stupid wager over some lame argument they keep having over........I can't even explain it. I understand it implicitly, but to impart the meaning of this paragraph would require words even I (master of English though I am,) don't have.

I went back to bowling today. My hand is still a little sore. No explanation for that other than my being out of practice, but I averaged out after a shaky start. There only appeared to be 5 Major division bowlers, though, so I wonder how that one's going to come back. Maybe they'll just go "okay we don't have enough people to run Major bowling this year, here's your money back, have a good one." That'd solve my moral dilemma, and yet be far too convenient.

Dad made lasagna today. My father is by no means a master chef, but he has, over the years, accumulated a repertoire of meals he can prepare very well, and that is one. Homemade lasagna. When Frank was still living with us - I think we were back at River Oaks at this point - he made a lasagna from his family's recipe (they are Italian over there, after all,) and I didn't like the taste. It was somehow bitter. Unpleasant. God, that's an unpleasant memory. Very few nice things are ever said around here about Frank (and rarely anything at all.) Let's move on.

Like I said, there's not much content to this blog. But those who like it, like it a lot.

I've got some stuff on my mind, but it's nothing for blog material.

I went back to pants today. I'd been wearing shorts pretty well consecutively from May until this morning, when I woke up and decided, "hm, yes. It's pants now." A few years ago, I considered going pants all the way through the summer.

I applied at this place for a job today. It's nothing big, and it's quite assuredly temporary, but it's cash. Hopefully it works out.

Things rarely seem to.

To be fair to my mom, this place is a mess. I have this sinking feeling, though, that I'm gonna wake up tomorrow morning and see it vacuumed aleady and be like, "aw, damn, he went ahead and did it."

There are things we cannot control. Implicitly, other people are among them. Sure there are those rare cases when you find how to tug the marionette strings perfectly, but usually people are worlds apart in their heads. I think that's a comforting thought. Though I like to be heeded, I'm not such a control freak I think I need to be inside everyone's head. It's nice to know there are factors you can't blame yourself for.

On that note, I hope you can keep on rockin'
-El Scotto

C3: Hate to say I told you so

I have a weird sense of humour. That's probably plent clear to those who read all of these entries, I might make an odd remark every now and again and just not account for it, but that's not what I'm getting at. I also have a weird sense of what I find funny about everyday life.

The evening began on a pensive note. After dinner with dad, we had to go grocery shopping and pick up a birthday card for Granddad. A few nights ago, I was asked - or was it ordered? - to come to a housewarming get-together at the new apartment of Justine and Mel, which was incidentally Haasim's apartment for part of last year.

I was feeling a little ill at the outset of the night. It's tough to explain but longtime readers might understand intuitively. It's me and being social. The brain gets all knotted up with the stomach, and even in situations where I'm with my longtime friends, I can get weird. So eventually as soon as I came up to their apartment, things got off to a bit of a messy start.

I had been wondering what to expect, and the situation I found was among the various ones I speculated on. It was really just a small group of people, mostly girls from school, sitting around, drinking and playing Kings (or a variation thereof.) It was a pretty relaxed night. I got to experience the feeling of being sober with a room full of drunk people. It was quite amusing.

After my own not drinking, and Andrew's, some board games, and hy-larious drunken antics, I decided that I was about ready to call it a night. It was potentially, the wrong time to do so, however. On my way over, I'd seen some lightning, and Andrew had talked about it as well. When I got down to the ground floor (after meeting a funny drunken couple in the elevator,) there were a few drops on the pavement. I think, "Okay, I'm going to get a little wet, but no big." I had even considered hanging back in the coffee shop or something in order to wait out the rain, but you can't spend your whole life waiting out stuff like that, so off I went.

Well, by the time I got to the Professional Building at Trafalgar and McCraney, it was effing pouring. By the time I was halfway down Sewell, it had nearly stopped, but man, the damage was done. I was headed home, glasses fogged, shirt soaked through, holding it away from myself, occasionally wringing out my hair, shoes like water balloons.

But this is where that first paragraph comes in. When the rain at last tapered off, man, I was laughing. I've got a reputation for being easily irritated by little crap like that, but when things really staart to get overboard, like walking home at 11:30 at night and being soaked to the bone, overshirt in hand, somehow amuses the hell out of me.

So maybe I shouldn't have left so soon. It doesn't appear to be raining like that anymore, but it was an adventure I'm not sorry I had. Vaguely reminiscent of that great (and strangely obscure) Scorcese film, "After Hours."

For a little while, I've been wondering whether or not I should go back to bowling tomorrow. I do this ever year, though, it's kind of sad. I don't know when I'll actually quit, probably when I reach the maximum age for the league, since I'm not interested in going bowling with a bunch of 40-somethings and seniors. But every year I regret not quitting when it comes time to sell those Chocolate Covered Almonds. God I feel lame trying to peddle those things. And when they jack up the price, it makes it harder, and I'm left with a few bucks and a crapload of unwanted chocolate.

That's life, man. A few bucks, some unwanted chocolate, and extremely damp socks.

It can be a trip, man.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotts

C2: If I swallow anything evil...

...Put your fingers down my throat. That's from The Who's "Behind Blue Eyes," a good song.

So, the moral of today's story will be to go another way sometimes. Becoming a creature of habit can cause life to stagnate. Making room for variety can lead to a change of fortunes.

I got up this morning knowing I had something on my plate. I usually go down to the comic store on Wednesdays, but a variety of factors stopped me. There was business to attend to at Grandma’s today, and she suggested I come on Wednesday so I wouldn’t be back and forth there today. And I thought that since it was Labour Day comics might have been shipping a day late, but that may not have been accurate. So I put it off to today.

I also went in a different direction that usual. Whereas I often go straight down Trafalgar to Lakeshore, today I took the big hill down Cross, like I used to when the tunnel under QEW was intact. I made this decision after giving a man directions to the Holiday Inn at the corner of Cross and Trafalgar. I zoned out into my own little world and headed on my way.

I was halfway up Cornwall toward Kerr when it happened. A blue van of some kind pulled up beside me. I figured it was yet another person asking for directions. I looked at the girl behind the wheel. Something struck me about her.

“Excuse me,” she says, adding something to the effect of, “I’m sorry, I’m not crazy, but I think we know each other.” It begins to dawn on me before she even phrases her next question. She asks, “Were you in Reach?”

I just look at her and say, “Leanne.”

Enraptured that she didn’t just commit some horrible faux pas, she offers to take me to my destination. I told her I was going to the Pizza Pizza on Lakeshore – which was true, as I was hungry, and that was the plan.

Leanne from Bateman. That’s a weird one. I’ve technically known her for years, but I still have to begin every conversation I ever have with her with a sense of “Do we know each other?” because we only saw each other every so often, mostly at Reach tournaments. It began one innocent day at a tournament when the WOSS kids were eating alongside the then-Elgin kids. The most vocal of the Elgins was a darkhaired girl who was introduced to me as “Leanne.” The WOSS crew and the Elgins became sort of acquainted in that way. The other Elgin kid I remember was Cliff, who eventually led the Bateman Improv Team to victory (over us,) and I think a kid with a thick foreign accent (Russian maybe?) But Leanne was the main one, I guess, because she and I hung out a lot at those tournaments. Except every time they ended, we wouldn’t see each other until the next tournament. (I keep saying tournament – really they were round robins.) And I never even asked her for her last name!

One year, our schools weren’t in the same group and I practically forgot about her. In Grade 12, we met up again. I wasn’t sure what her name was, and when I asked, she said, “colloquialism.” I still don’t know what she meant by that. The whole story is captured somewhere in this blog, I can’t be bothered to find it.

Anyway, I got a little fixated on her, it was kind of unhealthy and I’m not proud of that particular stretch of my life. It was the last time I was ever so fixated, so hooray for me for shaking that habit.

The last time I had seen her was at a tournament (round robin) in March 2005. She wasn’t even at the finals, if I recall. I figured, oh I’d never see her again, that was that. And then she pulls up alongside me in a blue minivan going west on Cornwall. Go figure.

After assuring me – as any good woman in her position would do – repeatedly, that she was not some insane stalker,* we caught up a little, I told her what I was doing, she told me where she was at, and said she still kept in touch with all the people from her Reach team (something I can hardly say, as they weren’t really my gang. Although I did see Bryan Myers not that long ago and sometimes find myself at a party with Barrett and Hilary,) and how she couldn’t wait to tell them she’d run into “that guy who knew Aaron and Moses.” This was in reference to some obscure question I’d answered all those years ago, which I couldn’t even remember today. I answered so many questions over the years that very few of them actually stuck this long. And yet she had linked me inextricably with this one random question.

*I found this privately amusing, given my past tendency toward such behaviour… and how often I find that word coming up, in the positive or nugatory sense, with regards to females. Go figure.

I also found myself living out my own prophecy, in a sense, and getting some validation that what I write has a connection to reality. We lived out a little excerpt from the Half-Past script when she mentioned some half-heard comment about a girlfriend of hers having had a crush on me (at least, that’s what I think she said,) and I , almost instinctually, answered, “you should’a hooked me up.” Needless to say, she didn’t get the reference. The conversation missed only a beat before moving forward.

Anyway, after showing off my mad conversatin’ skillz, we got to my destination. The parting was a tad awkward, in that I really wanted to get that pizza, but hey, who’s going to let a pretty girl drive out of his life? She told me it was probably not the last I’d ever see of her. Somehow, I believe that, even though there’s no reason to think I’ll ever see her again. I guess it’s up to serendipity. If I needed to, I could probably get in contact with her, since she’s friends with Cliff who used to work with Emma, so I have reason to believe there’s a connection there. It’s a small world. I’ll just leave it to chance, though. No sense worrying oneself over little things like that.

So the day went on. Eventually I had to run down to Sheridan’s IT Purgatory in the depths of the school and get my new laptop. I skipped out on the Care & Feeding, because I did it last year and still am aware of the fundamentals (water + computer = bad?! Shocking!) Maybe I’ll get in trouble over that. Probably I won’t. I know it’s a Mac – and therefore not my most familiar computer – but I’m not stupid. I know how to “care and feed” for a computer. It’s not like they’re making me rent a Guinea Pig.

Man that’d be sweet if they were, though.

Eric and I went over to a lady’s apartment this evening, in Grandma’s building. We had been hired at the price of $5 each to move some cabinets out of her storage room. It seems we’ve got a reputation as hard workers around those parts. Me, I’m always happy to do just about anything for a buck. I oughtta put that on my résumé. Maybe then I’da been hired by that Framing place.

The place is pretty hot, and thanks to mom messing around with our grocery schedule, we have nothing non-Coca-Cola to drink, and I’ve had enough of that today. So I ran out to the convenience store to get Iced Tea.

What a life.

Watched the full moon rise tonight. Think of me once in a while. You know where I’m at.

Keep on rockin’
-Scotto

C1: Cold and out of breath

I’m following some sound advice and writing this entry in MS Word. I don’t usually do that, because I like the interface of the blog. The input is part of the creative process in some really weird way. But I’m doing this today because the computer has been freezing like a muthafucka today and I’m very concerned.

So today’s adventure in school prep was OSAP form signing – AKA: how to spend an hour and a half trying to take a piece of paper 8 feet across the hall. I arrived with all my pertinent information – SIN, Photo ID, and Bank Statement for that fershlugginer direct deposit – and ready to stand in line. And stand in line I did for a good 10 or 12 minutes until at last it was time to fill my shit out. No real problem there, they confirmed “you don’t have a job, do you? This is how much money you get?” and I signed and took my papers over to the next table. After some waiting, I sit down, and it looks like I’m gonna escape hassle-free and in good time.

Not quite. Big problem, the bank branch number is withheld from my bank statement (as on all TD statements) for my own security. They suggest bringing a void cheque, but I don’t use cheques, so this was my only shot. Last year, I didn’t even have that. I didn’t even know I was supposed to sign the OSAP thing. I just happened to show up at the school one day and see the signs and be like “oh crap I should probably be doing this.” As such I couldn’t do direct deposit and just had them send me the cheques. This year, they were damned insistent on direct deposit. So she had me call the bank. Except I don’t know the bank’s number. Also, I don’t have a phone. So off I go, truckin’ it on down the road to TD bank to get the branch number. Thankfully, TD employs only the finest and most courteous women at its help desk, so I was able to get what I wanted with little stress. And back I go, for about three minutes of signing, and at last I can go home. And somehow, that was over an hour. Nutty.

I had been having terrible luck today. Like I said, I haven’t been getting along with my poor computer. An upgrade is in order. Also, I spilled my coffee, which was irritating. And then after that whole ordeal with the OSAP forms, I was really starting to get irked. Finally, when my computer starts being civil with me, I relieve my stress with some (rare) online poker. Something happens, my luck changes, and I turn $500 into $6000 in only a few extremely lucky hands (I should note that the guy who had several thousand when I walked in was going all in on every hand – not a great strategy if you don’t want to lose.) Today’s Chinese proverb: “Fortune comes in many disguises.” Fitting, I suppose.

The new fall season looks like shit. I was reading TV guide, and pretty much nothing looks palatable. Hourlong dramas are king, ever since Lost and Housewives started kicking ratings ass. There are Sci-Fi dramas, spy dramas, lawyer/crime dramas, medical dramas, etc etc etc… no good comedies on TV this season. What used to be the staple of television programming (remember “Must-See TV?” Those were the days,) is now an afterthought, with a few shitty-looking sitcoms and the questionable Tina Fey project “30 Rock” serving as the only single camera sitcom of the season. I guess that after The Office, Scrubs, Arrested Development and My Name is Earl, everyone with enough vision to mount a single-camera show has either already got one or is burned out on the network not supporting them (that would be AD.) Bah, the whole thing just annoys me. Of course, it’s easy for me to complain from this side of things. If I had to program a TV network, I probably wouldn’t have a clue. But it’s not my job. It’s my job to watch, and as a viewer, I am not impressed (I am just patently un-attracted to one-hour dramas, and that’s all there is to it.)

What do you know, I made it through this whole thing, and the computer didn’t freeze. Go figure.

Oh, and a note to everyone out there: don’t ever grab a flashlight and look down your sink’s drain. It’s just not worth it.

…aww, you just went and did it, didn’t you?

Keep on rockin’
-Scott

B2: Better off where you don't belong

My one unembarrassed addiction is Coca-Cola. If an authority figure told me to never have another cup of coffee, I could deal with it. If they said I couldn't have another bottle of beer, I'd think it was a little silly but I'd comply. If they made me never smoke weed again... well, no loss there. But if you come between me and Coca-Cola, Coke wins. I'd don't drink gallons of it every day like I used to, but few feelings beat an ice cold Coke at the end of a long day.

So mom finally came back. Thing is, as I'm not sure whether or not I mentioned, she broke her wrist during her most recent vacation, which is something I find both unfortunate and annoying. Is it selfish to be annoyed by someone else's injury?

Perhaps, but's got a cast for 6 weeks and the woman is not one to handle these things well. So here I am, looking at 6 weeks trying to help my mother accomplish simple household tasks like opening cans and feeding the dog. I guess it's a voilent way of reminding ourselves that we're family.

It's not really the helping out that annoys me, though; I do that because I'm at least a moderately considerate person. Anyone would. The exasperating thing is the mere thought of her being injured. It reminds me of a few weeks ago when she fell off a bike and had to get stitches. I can't even remember ever seeing her on a bike, and now I know why. She's clumsy, and I think she's just going to keep injuring herself if she doesn't realize she's not the outdoorsy type. She's accident-prone. And I found out from my grandma that my cousin's (boyfriend/babydaddy) Mike was in a car accident and cracked a few vertebrae. Now that's an injury.

In the latest installment of "Scott Wanders Blindlessly Through the School System," I realized today that I had to pick a general elective, which blows because I was hoping I was through with that shat after the Classical Mythology debacle. It came down to some kind of Sex class and Elements of Poetry. Now, sure, it seems like the obvious choice for any red-blooded teenage male such as myself to go for the sex class, but consider, as I did, the fact of a guy who looks/talks/acts like me taking a course about sex; onlookers would assume (rightly) that I wasn't getting any, had nothing to contribute, and was only there to fulfill some kind of perverse desire to combine sex and the classroom. I don't roll that way. Plus, I have just a little bit of experience with the poetry thing, so I thought I might revisit that. now I just have to go back and pull out the ole Writer's Craft notebook and try to remember all that stuff Guthrie used to say about finding the meaning of a poem.

But that doesn't lighten my disgruntlement about the General Elective. I was really hoping to sleep in on thursdays. I also swung by the school to check the OSAP form line. I didn't end up getting that done, so I've gotta go back tomorrow. Although I did run into a few of the kids from class, so at least I remember what they look like.

A good show on The Movie Network is Lucky Louie. I was skeptical about the idea of a 3-camera sitcom on cable TV - in this day of Scrubs and Arrested Development, it seems backward - but to watch the show, you realize that it makes sense. It's hilarious.

That's it for tonight. Enjoy yourselves, and pleasant dreams.

Keep on Rockin'
Original Scotto

B1: Take this job and shove it

Somehow, it's hard to believe that it ends like this.

While I would hardly qualify this as the greatest summer of my life, it seems a shame that the whole thing should amount to... me sitting on a computer typing away, while it rains with hard winds outside in the darkness. It's been such a dreary day. And I'm still thinking about the end of everyone else's summer and lamenting the continuation of mine. I was kind of hoping there would be drinking involved.

I applied for a job yesterday. After my various experiences over the summer my confidence in that area is somewhat shot, and consequently I have many doubts that I'll get it, but at least my application's in. The job is that of... guy who works in the cafeteria at my school. My rationale is that, let's face it, I'm qualified and experienced, given all the experience I got in high school. But somehow I doubt they're looking for my type, given that I'm not a middle-aged Chinese woman. I find that being a middle-aged Chinese woman might be an advantage in certain circles.

It's amazing how fast two years go by. I don't have any idea where I'll be two years from now, and I was only vaguely inclined to be where I am now two years ago. Back then, I was starting Grade 12 and my future was not weighing as heavily on my mind as it probably should've been. And now, I'm still clueless about the future. I guess the most likely scenario is taking some other course, either at Sheridan or someplace else. I just don't know that I'm strictly qualified to go someplace else. The idea behind journalism is that you go and get a job in journalism. I don't want one, and I'm not sure it's such a great place to be. I guess everyone - myself included - knows where I am supposed to end up... but I haven't a clue about how to get there. I'm feeling around in darkness.

Y'know, for all my kvetching about losing my friends, it's hard to remember that it's not like last year in that, once I go back to Sheridan, I have friends to go back to. I certainly didn't have that to think about last year. I haven't seen Haasim, Joe and Mansoor all summer, mostly because nobody who goes to Sheridan lives in Oakville (except for me and Andrew Sissons, whom I ran into a few times.) They're generally good people, with only a few exceptions (some of whom are reading this - hah!)

The computer reset, but thanks to the "Recover post" function, I was able to resume my thoughts just where I left off... not knowing how to continue.

Been doing a lot of thinking about the last 2 years since I really got into the blog. Life changes so much in that amount of time, and yet, so much of it remains the same. It's an inherent contradiction that has been iconified in a popular idiom. You know the one; about things changing versus staying the same, and how much of each happens, and whether or not they're connected?

Hah, I just took a clever, concise expression and sucked all the life out of it by laying it out like that. As another famous quote says; Brevity is the soul of

...and then he got interrupted. Maybe he should have been even more brief.

I'm sorry, I've just been meaning to squeeze that one out for weeks, and I took the opportunity.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

A1: The castle lights are growing dim

I didn't anticipate how difficult this weekend would be.

That seems kinda silly. We've been here before; me, stuck in Oakville while the better part of my friends (that is to say, the bulk of them, not necessarily the "better" ones,) run off to university in their respective towns. I suppose I had just grown so accustomed, over the past 4 months, to having everyone around, that I forgot that eventually it'd go back to normal. But hey, life goes on, I suppose. It ain't always easy, but that's life.

Meanwhile, and maybe some of my fellow Sheridan kids will agree with me on this (you're out there,) I'm not digging this whole "we start one week later" deal, mostly for the reason listed above. While life is moving forward as scheduled for my contemporaries, I'm stuck another week in purgatory, forced to deal with my childish lonely bullshit. If there's one thing I've proven, it's that I can't let my mind go unoccupied. It's too strong, and is bound to end up badly.

However, all the sadness of this week can be absorbed by my at-long-lsat obtaining of Arrested Development Volume 3 on DVD this past week. It was kind of a weird story. I was looking high and low for a pencil sharpener. I've been supposedly working on a comic since May, (lord, it didn't used to take me this long) and I couldn't continue (or restart, whatever,) until I got my pencil sharpened. However, as usual, the sharpener disappeared on me, so Eric and I went to the drug store to get a new one. Then we made our way down to Blockbuster to see if they had anything. They didn't, and they were selling Arrested Development for $26.99 or something. So Eric and I, inspired and in search of a better deal, went all the way down to HMV at the mall and lo and behold, it was a mere $21.99. Badda-bing badda-boom, new DVD.

I've gotta get up early tomorrow - mom's off for the weekend, and I've got to let Max out early tomorrow morning - so I'm heading off now. More substance tomorrow night.

I just hope this weekend doesn't slip away. For many people, this is it.

For me, it's just... sigh... another weekend.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotts