A Bachelors Blog

....oooooh Dell Support... why must you hate me so? I try to love you, I try to be reasonable and friendly... I simply want a price quote on a product. A power supply, nothing serious, Dell. Why must you insist on my phone #, address, shoe size, last rectal exam, and favorite book??? Why?!? ....You know, don't you Dell... my secret? You are aware of my absolute hatred of you... you can feel it across the phone lines, the interweb ether.. you know I scowl and judge you out there in India... I can smelllllllllll you. I even hung up on you politely, Dell. My restraint was remarkable, even to me! Could you not simply give me a price quote? A simple number? You had the item, I heard you rattling off the product code and wattage..it was what I needed!!! I NEEDED that item, I was squirming..and you KNEW it...so you teased me and made me jump through yer hoops.... ooooh but I won in the end.. I hung up on you before your GPS satellites could find me! ...You are closing in though.. I can s...

So all of this relational chatter got me to thinking and pondering... and meandering and mulling... Eventually my mind ground to a halt at our passions. Relational passion is alike, yet oddly different, from other passions in life...but I digress. I want to talk about our passions in life, for ourselves... what puts the light in our eyes? What excites us even as it frustrates, tires, and consumes our valuable time? I have three constants in my life as far as things I am passionate about. 1) Reading/writing - Sadly I can't separate these two, because for me they simply go hand in hand. It's not the case for alot of folks. I know univ. students who write their brains out and never touch a book outside of a text, and I know readers who won't touch a pen if a gun was aimed at them. I have been writing and reading as long as I can remember, and one of my great and quiet joys in life is to know that the stuff I write will make someone laugh, smile, think, or have some sort of...

Oh blank screen, why must you torment me so? Fuck. I just wrote a large chapter of garbage, and deleted it. I don't like feeling unplugged. But here I am completely disconnected from anything worthy of typing out. I'm trying for something witty and hilarious... I'm coming up with crap. So fine! Stupid brain doesn't want to be creative and funny! So be it!! I like zombies! I like zombie movies, games, books, and art. Somewhere on my computer is a picture of the last supper but with zombies. Its very sacreligious and awful... but its zombies and sadly, appeals to my sense of humor. I have a zombie video game that I enjoy playing. Blowing up zombies would be my calling if they only existed! My writing is so lame it's murdering my inner child. I shall stop here. I need spring to come..or my muse, or zombies to attack. Life is getting boring!

I have decided to export the blog-o-saur into Facebook to 'share' a bit more, as well as to induce my creative side to put more energy into actually creating something. I suppose we shall see how this plays out in the end. So it is now 2009. A new year, and a year rife with change for some, and no appreciable differences for others and that's ok I think! This year, although new and fresh and annoyingly full of winter yet, has been a far cray from the past 6 or 7 for me. Namely I quit my miserable job. The stress, the pressures, the frustrations, the lack of enthusiasm and challenge, the total disregard for staff that, luckily for the most part, passed me by, but I was forced to witness and eventually hear from by the affected staffers. Blah. Walking out of my work that day, with no safety net, no job waiting, no paycheques lined up... nothing at all actually.. was one of the scariest yet best days I have had in a long time. I do not regret walking away from that pla...

Ok, so here I am typing about the broken hearted. *For privacy reasons I will refer to my relative as Broken, and his wife as Bitch* For once, it is not my own heart that I speak about. Well...sorta. My heart is broken right along with my relatives because we are so close and I was directly involved in their lives for so long. Wait, let me start from the start. My cousin and his wife were married awhile back. I was in their wedding party, even though I was against the union and generally despise the ceremony of marriage on all levels. (thats a rant for another day) Either way, they were married and all seemed well until I asked them if they wanted to move in together, all three of us to help save money and get a really decent house. They agreed and all was well, until I was told that Bitch wanted out of the marriage after only 9 months together. Broken was devastated and so was I, as I was now a functional part of this relationship for the sake of finances and living arrangeme...

This post has absolutely nothing to do with this most amazing of bands... besides the fact that I am currently listening to Hey Hey What Can I Do, by them....plus a crap load of others. We are told to write what we know. You know... THEY tell us this...whoever they are. But in fairness to "the Man" I was actually told this by more than one reputable writer. Margaret Atwood and Tad Williams both were decent enough to respond to me in a 'non-formulaic' style. You know... they actually responded to me normally instead of through form letters or their assistants. Write what you know. I want to write again, and the itch is on me almost all the time, like a tickle in the ear or a low buzzing in the background that you just cant drown out with music, sleep, sex, or any other distraction. ...So it begs the question... what DO I know exactly? I know that I need to lick my fingers to scrape the lint out of the lint trap. I know that Ebraking is the most fun you can poss...

... I have not written here since the passing of someone important to me this past summer, and now that the leaves have fallen and the cold weather marches inexorably towards us, it would seem that life is dishing out some more trouble. Yet another break up under the belt. I'm getting pretty good at them, sadly. One quick argument and its over. Fairly painless... for the most part anyway, I suppose. Someone very close to me is going into the hospital for heart surgery this coming week, and it has been weighing on me for awhile now. I daresay it helped along the recent breakup. Stress being what it is, anyway. Close people to me are splitting up after a long while together...and that has a sense of personal failure for me, as if I were the glue in that relationship...which, looking back, I very well may have been to a small degree. The strand of thread that they were hanging on by. So much sadness in such a short time. I may need to fly away in a day or two, dependin...