I am: deliriously happy
I hurt: my fucking knee. T_T
I want: a SIDEKICK. >XD
I hate: dicks. Who else?
I cry: when people make me angry, but not angry enough to be violent.
I fear: spiders and zombies...that shits scary, man. o_o
I hope: people stop being dicks. That'd be pretty sweet.
I waste: I dunno...money, I guess, If I had any.
I talk: way too much. I just follow my train of thought and see where it takes me.
I break: headphones. :3 Its mah forte.
I watch: other people.
I remember: not much.
I sleep with: the radio on
I hide: in parking ramps.
I burn: houses, for the insurance.
I Miss: again, not much.
I feel: like its twilight and really pretty and I'm driving really fast (but not in a rush) somewhere thats gonna be awesome, listening to good music and generally feelin' badass. specific, much?
I dream: in technicolor.
I await: eheheheheh. YOU know. :]
I live: with a bang!!
I die: with a bang!! :D

A Toast To Everyone, And All That You Do
From The Guy With One Leg, and a Fu-Manchu
I Bless This Event, And Everyone Here
Except For That Weirdo, With Only One Ear
And The Two Headed Lady, Who Spiked the Punch
And The Man With a Cap, Over His Hunch
You All Creep Me Out, Something Crazy
And Especially You, With the Eye That is Lazy

Let yourslef slip away, let go of everything. Let your self go, and you'd be surprised on how truely good and real you'll feel.  Take away those safety barriers and embrance something new, start a clean sleet, and try opening your eyes for once. Forget your worries,
forget the world is full of harm. Relax, let go of all thoughts, and let the music consume you.

Happyness does not come from what you've got, but from what you
make of it, so my-as-well make it glitter!!

Love and forgive,,

In the snow
Snow makes me deliriously happy. There's something miraculous about these white crystalline particles, which, when unhurried by the wind, leisurely suspend in the air until such time they see fit to grace the ground. One might be two years more than twenty-four, and still be surprised by the beauty of life and continual youth of time, be enchanted by how snow glitters, and be amused by how one's tropical eyelashes are useless in such weather. When I got on the bus, the old woman gestured that I sit across the aisle from her, where three full plastic bags had been tucked under the seat. "Those are mine," she said. "Marché Jean-Talon." In one wave of her hand and a stifled laugh she explained the ridiculous situation of having done her shopping on a day that was snowing like crazy, and having to make her way home with full bags of shopping. "Three cauliflowers, same price as one." Yet another gesture of her hand, indicating her weakness for good bargains. "I'm now 81 years old, but I'm a good housekeeper, a good cook." I have no recollection of what I said, perhaps some kind of conversation filler. Several minutes passed. Then, to my surprise, she got up and walked across the aisle to me. "Do you live near here?" "Not far," I said. She proceeded to give me her address, the exact street corner, the apartment number. "Come and see me, I can cook you a nice dinner. I am from Europe you know. I have been living here for 56 years. I am 81 years old and I am alone." Her breath had a tinge of drink ... rum? In slow, laboured speech, she gave me a summary of her life in Montreal, how her mother died in her arms, how her husband was perturbed by her insistence to care for her mother until she passed on. "Or call me. Would you like to write my number down?" "No, I can remember numbers well." She gave me her phone number. I recited it back to her. "What's your name?" I told her. She recited my name back to me. "Call me, I am alone. Have a good day." I watched her collect her bags and cautiously got off the bus. I turned around and watched her crossed the street through the foggy window. Then I looked at other passengers in the bus, none of whom seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. I wonder if she knew that I would never find the courage to pick up the phone. But a letter, maybe. Yes, perhaps a letter.

They are the most amazing thing.  To be able to witness the beauty of life first hand. Without them we would be lost, and all colour vanished.  I think you tell the most about someone by looking into their eyes.  You can see more emotion than any words or hands could ever show. They can't lie. They hold a moment, seize a moment, and show your deepest regrets and desires.  They show love, and hate.  They are gateways to our soul. They show our true personality with all their flaws. They show us good and evil, and let us understand people but yet judge.  They give us reasons to be happy over something so insignificant and sad just as easily. People may change over the years, but eyes can make you remember who they are.  They are the most valuable thing to a person I think, even before the heart, however like everything else in the world there is a good a bad side. They let you see the beauty in things and the ugliness and hate too.  They let you love, and they let you judge. You have to remember it's a give and take.  I don't think I could be as happy as I am now, if it wasn't for my eyes, and the beautiful eyes of others.

Now to end this I will asking questions about eyes, however I must say I mean no offence the blind, but I'm curious that’s all...:

1. When blind people die, do they see a bright light?
2. Why do they put Braille on drive through back machines?
3. What’s does an absence of colour look like, with out shades as well?
4. Can blind people only see black or do they live with this absence?
5. Can colour help you remember moments?
6. How come people pity those with disabilities even if they are complete a-holes, yet still treat them with the utmost curtsy?
7. Why do we hold the door for blind people and people with disabilities but not for our friends and family?
8. Does love at first sight happen? And what about the blind? I believe it does personally.
9. Why do we have colour? What is it? How can we see it and...say dogs, can't? Okay that was 3 questions but w/e....
<Drum roll> And last but not least
10. If we were all blind would we love more truly?

Remember, be grateful for what you have everyday, cause you never know when it's going to be gone.

So many people say they wish they could go back in time to change things they have done.  I would never wish this upon myself or anyone else, because everything that you did or said got you to where you are now, for good or bad, and I strongly believe things will always work out, you just may not notice when it does. 

But this blog isn't to say what I've done or wish I've done, I don't want to take anything back, but I want to RELIVE it all.  My younger years, my childhood, I wish I could see it and feel it all over.  I know I'm not old and I should not be having these thoughts, but because of my recent visit to River View and constant listening to old 90's wack-ass music, it reminds me over everything I've loved, and still love.  My innocence, my passion, my drive, my love...I don't know if you can understand this, this being an emotions with-out a definition, with-out a word to describe my emotions/feelings over this.  I'm still very-childish and fun loving, but it was different young.  You could be confident in anything you did because you were cute and too immature to understand.  This understanding makes us paranoid, nervous, stressful, fake, and everything I've prided myself on never being.  Lately I've been drowning myself in old music and memories, sometimes all at once, and it makes me feel amazing.  Makes me remember to love the little things that make a young child awe with surprise, questioning and wonder.  How can people let these things go so easily?  I know "it’s a part of growing up", but must it be?  If we were all free-falling so to speak and living life free, we would be more relaxed and live life more full.  Do you really want to be the type to die on your work desk from having a heart attack? No, of coarse you don't.

I think I'm trying to say to live every moment to its most, but everyone knows that already, but it's like knowing French fries are bad for you but you still eat them?  So what you know what’s best, but do you actually abide by it? No....I try, and I guess that's all we can ever do.

We don't remember day's, we remember moments.

Not one.  Not one in ten friends would come out with me tonight.  I know they had their reasons, and I'm not mad, purhaps a bit lonely though.  Some couldn't come because they weren't allowed, and that's
logical, but most didn't come because they didn't want to.  Not that they couldn't, but
that they wouldn't. The thing that hits me is that if one of my friends called me
and asked me to do something I didn't want to do, I bet I would
probably go.  I might not have in the past but from
now on I will. Not for myself, but
for them,becasue that's
what a friend
does.

So now tonight I am alone with my computer screen...this is pathetic.

After much thought, I don't think I can consider the guy working behind the counter at Subway a Sandwich Artist. I feel my argument is supported by a couple of reasons, obvious to all, after consideration.

1. The said employee (we'll call him Lars, for efficiency's sake), has absolutely no input as to the contents of my sandwich. What kind of artist can't decide his own medium?

2. Lars puts together the sandwich the same way everytime. Why not put the ham on top? Or use the turkey slices as the roll? There's so many other ways to experiment! Get your brain out of the bread oven, you dummy.

So, with this newly-discovered information, I am considering more appropriate titles for the Subway worker. Like the Sandwich Dredge. Or the Hoagie Concubine.

If he drank all the water in the world, then had to pee, what did I shower in this morning??

Just to put everyone's mind at ease, drinking all the water in the world is physically impossible. I don't want this comic to scare anyone out of routine hydration — it's an extremely important aspect of survival. At best, the human body can only survive two days without H2O. Here's a simple play I wrote to help you remember:

 

ACT I.

Scene fades in on an opulent conservatory

Colonel Abenard: "I say, Madam Chambers, I'm feeling a bit parched!"

Lady Chifferella Chambers: "Heavens, Colonel! Do take care of yourself — I shan't know what to do if you were to dehydrate!"

Colonel Abenard: (chuckling to himself) "Nonsense, my dear. I was fine yesterday, and the day before that..."

Lady Chifferella Chambers: (offering a tumbler to the Colonel) "Still, I would be quite relieved were you to steal a sip of my tonic."

Colonel Abenard: "Good Lady! A sip of your glass, however brief, would ruffle my mustache beyond repair!"

Scene fades out

ACT II

Scene fades in on cemetary

Lady Chifferella Chambers: "How dreadful... to expire from thirst!"

Doctor Sutherland Southeby: (patting Lady Chambers on the arm) "Now, now, Chifferella — he brought it on himself."

Lady Chifferella Chambers: (wailing) "Why did I not do more to prevent this morbid dessication!?"

Colonel Abenard: (mustache severely ruffled) "Mercy! I'm quite glad I partook of your tonic after all, Lady Chambers!" (peering into casket) "Who is this wasted chap?"

Scene fades out.