Blogging the Summer, #1

(Cait, lamenting the music searching she must do, which will accompany a video slideshow at a family event)

standing pretty says:

URGH. i have to find a bazillion version of danny boy and its IMPOSSSSIBLE.

Steve ::: Okay. Okay. says:

A bunch of different versions?

standing pretty says:

did i tell you about my blog idea for my mom?

standing pretty says:

yah, thats what i meant in my word vomit

standing pretty says:

if it type in harry belafonte danny boy…i get harry belafonte danny boy blowjob .

 

 

 

Damn

Whenever I go to the cottage for a weekend, I come back all excited and expecting everything on the Internet to be new and different and fascinating.

Most of the time, it’s not.  Or only marginally so.

Words, and enthusiasm

You know great it is to sit in a lecture when the prof REALLY loves what they’re talking about?  If you saw any of TVO.org’s Lecturer Competition (Conley didn’t win, by the way), you know what I mean.  All of a sudden, the topic becomes fascinating because it’s fascinating to someone else.  They speak with liveliness and good humour, which are the two key ingredients for a good talk.

Seriously, watch this.

That video is a professional lexicographer – a person who assembles dictionaries.  If you think that a 16 minute talk on nothing but words would be boring, then you REALLY need to watch it, because it’s pretty sweet.

The speech, and a bunch of other like it, are from www.ted.com – a site dedicated to posting these kinds of speeches on a bunch of different topics.  One of the main links is to a guy named Brian Greene, who talks about the scientific ramifications of string theory, and how we might possibly be able to dissect the very essence of the universe within 10 years’ time.  String theory probably isn’t anything new to a lot of you, but the way the guy talks about it makes it accessible and entertaining in under 20 minutes.

Anyway, that’s my nerdliness for the day.  It’s kind of funny that one of my very first blog post ideas was a list of my favourite words (like penultimate and mnemonicide), so this just seems fitting.

All this is with thanks to Cait, and her Dad, my opinion of whom is rapidly growing.

The Penultimate Countdown

Really, really fascinating article from Slate.com’s Trailhead blog.  The blogger, Chris Wilson, says that following Clinton’s squeaky win in PA and the brutal pummeling the Democrat image has taken during this dogfight, the only viable option left for Barack Obama is to face facts and…drop out.

By doing so, he will:

1. Rebuild his “Messiah cred” by taking the bullet for the good of the party
2. Clinton will lose in the general election to McCain, because Obama’s supporters will never support HER
3. McCain will serve four years as president and, in the opinion of the blogger, ensure that the Republicans will NOT be reelected in 2012 (since McCain would clearly be a disaster, a point I don’t entirely agree with, but I digress)
4. Clinton will be blamed for not dropping out sooner and take never again seek reelection
5. Obama, on the other hand, can ride the wave of martyrdom while the powers that be in the Dem camp take a sound lashing from their supporters.  Obama waits it out and re-emerges in four years as his voting base grows into adulthood and starts to take over.

Huh.  I never thought about it that way, but this guy might be right.  I guess I should have seen the Clinton victory in PA coming, but I just believed that Obama’s “bitter small towners” comment didn’t hurt him that much.  Though I’ve proven myself inept at prediction, I’ve heard from more than a few different politico blogs that the GOP would prefer a McCain-Clinton matchup, since they see her as a pushover.

I see her as Sri Lankan venereal disease that’s taken a human form.  Tom-ay-tow, to-mah-tow.

Before After

This is a bit weird.

This is me, only a few weeks into my first year at Brock (it’s tough to embed these Facebook pics so I’m just going to link it).

This is me, only a few days away from leaving Brock forever, four years later on.

Boy, them years ain’t been kind.

So far this summer…

** I have an important request at the end of this post, for anybody who doesn’t feel like reading the weighty tome that I’ve just vomited**

1. I’ve seen old high school friends
2. Been to the library for a book
3. Been to the gym
4. Been to St. Catharines to retrieve the rest of my stuff from the house

Let’s work backwards through that list.  I went back to 184 Highland Ave. yesterday because my first move-out day last Sunday wasn’t enough to get all my worldly possessions out from the clutches of the home where I’ve lived the past three years.  That was with one large-ass van with the seats taken out, one Jeep Laredo, and one pickup truck.  I still had to make another trip.  What a royal pain in the ass.

This is fair warning to anyone that will be moving wholesale out of their place at the end of their university term (either this year or next): start doing it now, for the love of God.  You don’t need that much stuff.  Do.  Not.  Even after you account for all of your essentials (clothes, toiletries, cooking utensiles, books, etc) and all of your fun stuff (music, DVDs, other books, booze, etc) there is still at LEAST 40% of your belongings in the house that you never even considered.  I’m talking computer cables, reams of printer paper, binders from first year, textbooks from first year, old magazines in the bathroom, spatulas and potato hand-mashers, more plates and coffee mugs than one person will ever realistically need, a second pair of slippers, a beach ball you got from Virgin Festival, and if you think about it, most of your clothes that you never wear.

I fucking hate moving.  Hate it.  It’s not because I have a sentimental attachment to the place (although I do, kind of.  A lot has happened in that old house) but because it’s such a bitch to do.  But it’s done.  I shook hands with Sean, turned on my heel, and left that house for good.  My key stayed there.  It was a little strange to leave it so unceremoniously, but I had a long drive home and days of unpacking to face, which was a little daunting.

However, I no longer have a place to hang my hat in St. Catharines, not for an evening or a weekend or a school year.  That chapter, as they say, is finished.  Strangely, I just received word the other day that I snagged a place in the good residence at King’s College.  It’s a residence SPECIFICALLY for people in my program, with only 12 (private, thank god) rooms.  Best of all, it’s right above my classes, so very little public transit to deal with.  Also, it’s ten minutes from downtown.  I’m pretty stoked on that.  It’ll force me to pack light: computer, cables, and clothes.  Anything else I need, I buy.  Move-in day is August 14.

Secondly, I went to the gym.  I use the rec centre here in Aurora because it’s usually empty and has pretty much anything I’d need to use at a gym, without those massive universal machines that exercise everything except your private bits (cock pushups, anyone?).  I make the commitment to go every summer, and I usually make an honest effort.  Two summers ago I went, literally, three times every week at LEAST.  Last summer it petered off a bit.  I’m sore as fuck right now, and it’s now two days after my workout.  Maybe I should commit more time to stretching.  The only thing I hate about the rec centre is that it’s often full of old dudes who could probably kick the everloving shit out of me.  If I go to a regular gym I expect to see a bunch of juicers just itching for a fight, but at the rec centre?  It’s the seniors I’m afraid of.

Thirdly, I went to the library.  I grabbed a copy of “A History of the English-Speaking Peoples” by Winston Churchill.  I’ve been on the lookout for it FOREVER after hearing that it was an excellent read.  And you know what?  It is.  The copy I have is a one volume edition that has been edited down from the original four volumes that Churchill wrote, about half the original’s length with all the good parts left in tact.  It’s astoundingly good.  Straight up glorious English history, starting from the Roman rule and moving forwards.  I woke up this morning around 3:00 am and couldn’t get back to sleep, and ended up reading until 6.  My only complaint is that the book is mostly politics (isn’t everything?) and deals in the main with kings and the rough formation of the modern English state.  But whatever, Churchill was a beautiful writer and the book kicks ass.  I intend to get the continuation of Churchill’s version after I finish it.

Jesus, this post was a novel.

Before I go:  Anybody who has any kind of experience with digital SLR cameras, drop me a comment or something with your best advice on how to get into them.  I’m looking to get a Canon Rebel XT with some of my tax return money (thank god for the government) and getting better with it through the summer so I can document my Nova Scotia year properly.  When I say advice, I mean anything having to do with:

1. Lenses (is it worth getting a second one?  What should I look for in a wide-angle?  A zoom?)
2. Helpful guides that you recommend? (a For Dummies book, maybe?)
3. Tips on how to get the best beginner results (if any).

Or anything you can think of.  I don’t know how many of you are into this kind of thing, but if you have advice GIMME GIMME GIMME!

As good a time as any

I figured that if I was going to get myself into the blogging mood for the summer, then I’d better start now.  If I lapse during the summer, it’ll be harder and harder to keep track of other people’s blogs come August and September when I leave.  And I’m COUNTING on the internet to help keep me in touch with everyone.

But Jesus, the summer is so boring.  My summers always are – as much as being Brock can be a royal pain, the summers in Aurora are agonizingly slow.  There’s a mere handful of people that I really feel like hanging out with, and maybe two decent places to drink.  I’ve been spoiled by St. Paul’s street, I know.  Bitch bitch bitch.

I was talking to Brian on the way home in the truck yesterday, and here’s the way my summer is stacking up: 

• I wake to go to work most morning around five, and try not to drive my car off the road as I drive to the golf course. 
• The job itself won’t be that bad; it’s a Joe job that has me mowing greens or cutting pin holes or cleaning tee decks.  Best of all, not a customer in sight to deal with.  I’ve done customer service every year for the past 6 years or 7 years of being employed, and I’m through with it for now.  Head down, work done.
• I call it a day at 2:00 or 2:30 every afternoon, which is awesome because I still have half my day.  And anybody who’s ever done shift work knows that the morning shifts always go by fastest because the sun rises quicker than it sets.
• In that time, I get to read, blog, visit Caitlin when I can get a vehicle, drink beer, hang out with people, try going to the gym, fool around with my (hopeful) new camera, or practice making new food dishes with the many unopened cookbooks lying around the house.  In other words, be kinda productive.  If I spend every afternoon napping when I get home I’m going to kill myself.
• I only work 1 weekend on/2 weekends off.  Meaning, that time will be spent at the cottage, Cait’s, or walking around the house in my underwear.

I know, I know.  All that sounds pretty kickass, and it IS.  But it doesn’t change the fact of Aurora’s excruciating doldrums.  This place is where old people and accountants come to die, I swear to God.  And I need to save money, because I’m looking at a $20,000 school year in August, so no huge spending nights.

Whatever.  I’m leaving for HALIFAX, so I don’t think too many bitter tears are in order.

So, my commitments to myself for the summer:

1. Buy one new CD every week, at least.
2. Get better at one thing.
3. Go to the fucking gym.  I know I’m a skinny guy but that doesn’t mean I’m in shape.
4. Read at least one book before the summer is out.  I think I’m still a little burnt out from the English major-ing.
5. Visit St. Catharines to hang with the people I miss, and go golfing with Ballsey (because if I don’t he’ll kill me)
6. Iron Man
7. Batman
8. Pineapple Express
9. Wall-E
10. And that’s it.  Fin.

**Tonight is a simple French Onion soup for dinner.  I’m getting my iPod and walking to the IGA soon to buy a kilo of onions.  Go summertime.

Old Ironsides

April 22nd.  That’s the day I’m waiting for now, the day of the Pennsylvania democratic primary and a better understanding of who the winner will be in the Obama-Clinton deathlock that has bored us all to tears lately.

I’m sick of all the American politics updates that aren’t saying anything.  A little mud is finally starting to stick to Obama (the Rev. Wright fiasco went nowhere, and rightly so I suppose) with these “bitter, small town American” comments.  He’s been making some other, far more off-color comments recently, but they get buried.

Whatever.  Were I to completely lose my mind and vote democrat, he’d probably be my pick.  Hillary thinks she’d have an easier time against McCain, and I think she’s wrong.  It’s always been about personality politics, and the Clinton aura seems to have finally run out of steam.

Check out this article, which summarizes the tough, up-hill slog that Hillary needs to only PULL EVEN with Obama.  It’ll warm your heart.

For the three biggest comic geeks I know

This is by Mark Steyn, one of my favourite pundits/critics/bloggers and a helluva good, snappy writer.  He’s by and large a conservative writer (Marc, don’t go cowering in the corner), but he writes a MEAN film review or obituary, for some pretty unlikely people.  I found this and instantly thought of Marc, Paul and Joe, so here you are guys.

It’s a piece he did recently for MacLeans about Jack Kirby.  I’ll give you guys an excerpt, and then you can check out the link:

In his heyday he never got the media profiles a Salman Rushdie or Michael Ondaatje does …. He lived modestly in Irvine, Calif., and sat on “an old, straightback kitchen chair parked in front of the crummiest old drawing table you ever saw” creating characters who sold a zillion comic books, were spun off onto Saturday morning cartoons and prime-time live action shows and eventually blockbuster feature films. He ought to have died the wealthiest guy in Irvine. Instead, his widow had to beseech Marvel Comics for a modest pension sufficient to cover her mortgage, groceries and medical bills.

Some pretty good stuff.  Find the whole thing here.  And Joe, check out www.steynonline.com for some kickass political commentary.  He updates pretty regularly.

You’re a mean old daddy, but you’re outta sight

I’m listening to a Joni Mitchell mix cd that Cait gave me (it’s pretty excellent – I’m creating imaginary film scenes in my head to go with the songs, which I usually do when I’m really enjoying a new song), and I’m trying to organize in my head why Joni Mitchell is to women what Bob Dylan is to guys. Why is that? There’s probably a flow chart around here somewhere that has the answer. Is it:

1. Her waif-ish voice?
2. Her themes?  She’s pretty, um, ephemeral in terms of what she sings about (love, childhood, small moments).  Do women like that kind of thing?  And we think they’re just hard to please…
3. Is it that she’s an independant singer/songwriter?  That might be it.
4. Is it that all the members of Led Zeppelin, and pretty much every other dude who wrote music in the 70s, were in love with her?
5. Does this really need a list?

I don’t know.  She’s pretty excellent, though.  And Cait made me excellent liner notes to accompany the songs!

I feel like I should go on and on and on about why I like Bob Dylan here, because he’s probably going on after I finish the JM cd, but I won’t.  I’ll save that for another post.  Maybe tomorrow (**WITH my top Dylan tracks**)

Anyway, my friend Erin of the incomparable The Blotted Line was talking about the physical and metaphorical defacement of books.  I like defacing books when it feel right, personally.  Books need battle scars like anything else.  What’s the point of owning a book if you aren’t going to throw it around a little, leave your mark on it?  I don’t have an intense love affair with books, like I know a lot of people do, but they’re pretty sweet when they’re either A) brand new or B) really old and used up.

On that note, I think my most satisfying experience ever with a book was this semester.  I had purchased a course book for my Lit Theory class, The Weather by Lisa Robertson, which is full of this awful, dense poetry that I simply did not have the patience for.  I found, a few weeks after I had bought it, that I had actually ALREADY bought a copy of it for $16 bucks at the beginning of the year, but had forgotten about it when I couldn’t find it.

Friends, I was pissed.  Boy, was I EVER pissed that I had spent $16 twice on this awful, boring, incomprehensible, self-righteous, tedious collection of garbage.  So, in that spirit, I took my untouched, still-with-the-receipt copy of The Weather and threw it right in the fucking trash.  God, did that feel good.  Seriously, need something to relieve school stress?  Toss one of your textbooks in the garbage.  You may as well, because will you ever again use that $120 copy of Simulation and Simulacra again? (Erin, don’t answer that).

No, you won’t.  I’d rather not even return it to the Brock bookstore and to get my measely $25 dollars for it, just so they can resell it at, oh, $110 dollars to some other poor sap.  Fuck it – I have respect for people who truly enjoy that stuff, and they should have a chance to read that book, but sometimes I’m going to take something that I PAID GOOD MONEY FOR and do what I damn well please with it.  Heave ho into the dumpster, motherfucker.