chillaxing

funny how the countryside passing by
the sun shooting holes in the clouds
can remind me of something specific in my youth
playing in a relative's field, playing the superhero
but the memory's haunted by your ghost
because you really should've been there
we should've been kids together
what if, you know?
funny how there's crosses and flowers passing by
saying "someone died here"
just as abruptly as you

oh my god, Dylan

I have a Firefox add-on called GMail Manager which sits in the corner of my status bar and lets me know about new messages in my inbox. If you hover your mouse over it, a small window pops up and shows you the first couple lines of the new messages. Pretty nifty.

Last night, I saw a message from one C****** * when I looked at the mail manager, a woman's name. At first, I thought some spam had slipped through the filter, as it does sometimes, because if I don't recognize the name it is almost certainly spam from some chick who says that she had a great time during our last IM chat and is making good on her promise of nude pics, and oh they're posted at this website please click HERE. But the last name struck me, and then I read the subject: " ... regarding Dylan". I clicked frantically to read the entire message, already knowing what it was about, but not really wanting to, not then. This entire paragraph contains about 3 seconds worth of thought, though.

The mail was actually from his dad, and he explained that he found Dylan in bed on Monday morning. Passed away, he said. And all I could think was "Wow, that's a really nice way of saying 'dead'" and then "oh my god" and then "that motherfucker" and so on. Lots of jumbly stuff of surprise and rage. Then I was able to read some more after 2 or 3 seconds... basically, his dad was trying to get in touch with friends of his son's, those that he didn't know. His family is hurting but managing. This was a big surprise, no warning, a possible aneurysm, but he had been having migraines and had even been to the hospital the day before.

I hope they're okay.

But I'm still trying to get over the fact that, a little more than a month ago, he invited me to some social networking site and while I signed up, I thought, "agggghh I'll write him tomorrow too lazy right now". Of course, a week later I realized "oh yeah, Dylan invited me to this place and I should write him aggggh maybe tomorrow". The fucker was probably just trying to get in contact with me because we hadn't really spoken in a great while.

I do work with a group of people, but I spend most of my time in isolation because I'm constantly moving from floor to floor. This allowed plenty of time for me to dwell on how I blew him off. Suddenly, I remembered talking to him for hours at a time, how I could tell him that this certain part of this one song sounded like the world was crumpling like paper and he'd totally get it, he'd listen to my stupid problems. Some of the music he talked to me about, the way he opened some songs up for me, got me to look at them in a certain way. And god, then there was his writing. Imagine getting punched in the face every time you read a paragraph... well, without the pain, but the intensity and IN YOUR FACEness was always there. Sometimes he'd write shit so personal, and so vague, no one had any clue what the fuck he was talking about, but I always moved, if only for the clever wording. You knew he meant it.

And how could I forget all these things?

He was so fucking smart. Yet he floundered. At least as far as I knew him, which was close to a year ago, to be honest. For a time, we were losers in arms. Of course, we had different reasons for our loserdom... he had real things holding him back, which led to awful mood swings and just a general depression, and then there was me with my "oops fucked things up again k now im depressed" (and he still cared about me!). Anyway, even with his brains, it brought him down to his knees sometimes. It always pissed me off when he'd have a good day and then relapse. Then he was into some metaphysical stuff for a while. God, all he wanted was peace.

And now that I've thought about it for some time, the long talks and stuff, all he (either of us) wanted was peace. Just some peace. And as much as it pains me, and I just shuddered now, to think this, at least now he can finally be at peace. I will miss him so fucking much, mostly because of how we did connect and how he helped me through some of my hardest times, even if I brought them on myself. And no one, NO ONE, talked music like he and I did. He was a good guy, even if he was just some guy. I think he'd like what I just did in that sentence.

Dylan, Webby, fucker, I'm sorry I didn't give you more. You were a true friend to me, and I'm sorry it took you leaving forever for me to fully realize it. I hope I'll see you again.

It's really hard to let go right now, though.

gonna WHINE for a second

Oh, btw, I've completely stopped running. My Dalplex (the mega-gym Dal runs) membership ran out when finals ended, thus my access to the indoor track was interrupted. Running outside is fine and all, but not when it's 45 degrees and windy as hell, NOVA SCOTIA I'M LOOKING IN YOUR DIRECTION. MAY'S ALMOST OVER, HELLO. My right ear has problems with cold, and especially cold wind. So, I'm gonna sit around and whine whine whine and get all my working out from my job until it resembles anything near a "spring" outside.

tiptoe through our shiny city with our diamond slippers on

HEY GUESS WHAT I'VE GOT A JOB. Yep, that's right, I've got a job.

Dalhousie's Killam Library has decided their call number (letter? I forget) organziation MAKES NO SENSE, and it will now start with A on the fourth floor and wind its way down to Z on the second floor. Of course they need workers, and guess who's got the GUNS and CAN-DO ATTITUDE. Me.

I'm three weeks in now, and I'm feeling new muscle pains in my fingers (from grabbing three and four books at once, sometimes heavy journals, and yes, even when I know it'll be too much for my hand). Who has finger muscle pains these days?! And unlike Wal-Mart where I did heavy lifting and basically broke my lower back, the constant repetitive motion of shelving/unshelving books has inflamed muscles in my upper back, which is also a pain I'm not accustomed to. I assume within the next couple weeks this stuff will all go away, and I hope it does. I am having fun doing this.

Although, they refuse to let anyone work more than thirty hours a week. Consider this reenactment:

me: HEY BOSSMAN can I maybe come in for an extra hour every day? :)
Bossman: lol what? who wants to work more than they have to? lololol
me: Seriously. :D
Bossman: :/
me: :D
Bossman: um, we only have a set funding for everyone to work 30 hrs a week...

... so on. Surprisingly I'm the only person to ask for more time. I would've thought my fellow students needed more money.

Which reminds me, I've been meaning to write a big thing on how Canadians are less workaholics (and generally happier) than USiens. I'd always heard and read about it since coming here. I've noticed that whenever I push myself to go faster (honestly, it's the only time I feel like I can get a workout) people end up staring at me like I'm crazy.

Even though I haven't been a workaholic in a long time. I don't know, I'm just excited about my job, eager to work, and definitely eager to make a good impression on Bossman so I can build up my references for the super-important Computer Science jobs I'll be getting through school in the next year or so.

holy shit, it's a beautiful day!

After months of absolute, mind-numbing cold, the temp has skyrocketed to.... 65°F. Okay, fine, so it's not an Arkansas spring, but I'll be damned if I wasn't just outside in shorts and a flimsy t-shirt, doin' a little jig, rolling up my sleeves exposing my ghostly yet muscular (of course) arms.

I went out under the guise of "hey, I'm gonna study outside :) " because my last final is tonight, but I basically just walked around aimlessly for an hour soaking up the sun. Part of the hotness factor is the sun. Actual air temp is kinda cool, but the sun burns a gazillion times hotter up here for some reason (I'm not a scientist). For added lameness, even though the sun's brighter and sticks around longer than the south, around 5PM the temp dives. Lame, lame, lame. Good thing I got up early this morning.

Andrea and I were discussing our future moving possibilities, and rather than going back to the south (it is kinda stifling, ya know), maybe moving somewhere further inland, like Ontario or something. But only because I can't stand these temperate summers on the Canadian coast. I think she just wants to move to NY, and I'm kinda fine with that. Has a nice mix of summer and winter.

scooters, vacation, fall

'Drea and I had our second anniversary on April 7th. While we were eating Thai food (yes, I ate it and liked it), she started blasting me with questions about how my first impression of her was different from the way I think of her now, how we've changed, etc.ec.e tec.eetc. I was completely unable to answer her at first, because, really, I hadn't thought much of it. I mean, pretty much every morning I'm waking up kinda surprised that I've found her, but I haven't truly actually truly thought about... how we've grown together. I'm mad at myself, and maybe at the world, because it's one of those things that I easily missed, like growing up.

When I was a young lad, I had all kinds of dreams about meeting the perfect woman. I'm not sure if this was typical behavior for a young lad, because the couple of boys I told in elementary school looked at me like I was crazy. Who knows, maybe they were just being poopyheads, but anyway, these thoughts took up, as far as I can remember, a lot of my time. And you know what? How I imagined it, the living together, knowing someone from outside your family circle could love you unconditionally, a complete lack of 'walls', it's all come true. No, seriously. I didn't have the words for it when I was a kid, but now I know I have what I wanted all along. That's a lot of Is.

Whenever I think about what we have, or those moments when we're just chillin' and I become acutely us-aware, I feel a little nostalgic. Did I use 'nostalgic' correctly? I don't know. It makes me feel like a kid again. I had a purpose for this post and it was going to be about, well, this, but much more organized. But as I've been writing, I've become more and more freaked out. What I have, and maybe what she has (I hope), is umpteen kinds of awesome. I love everything she does, the way she burps openly in front of me, her little dance when she plays Guitar Hero, her ability to completely ignore me when she's wrapped up in Tomb Raider or Shadow of the Colossus, that funny face she makes when she sneezes, the way she rubs her feet on me, her beautiful hair flowing as she brushes it, just all of it. I don't think there's ever been a time in my life when I expected to get something that would live up to my expectations, let alone exceed them. I've never been more proud to be with someone, family, friends, gfs, whatever. Sure, sometimes we fight. Okay, so we fight a lot, but we always wrap up within an hour. It is absolutely scary that I almost missed her, missed coming here. And because of her, I've become a better person. Ramble ramble.

This one time, a couple days ago, I looked at her and thought, "You do exist." But I'm an idiot because I didn't say that. I probably said something like, "Honey, can you make me some cookies?" But had I said what I was thinking, she probably would've thought it was totally sweet.

K, I probably lost anyone who might've been reading this. Man, I'm so happy, though.

And I'm done.

i will float until i learn how to swim

I'm thinking about overhauling the look of this thing. I've had this gothy black look since '03 and people probably cut themselves when the see it (not just because of the writing lawl).

And Samantha, you haven't made a post on your xanga blogz in like, years. How am I supposed to keep up with your shenanigans?

edit: k, Samantha, I see now that you've moved the blog. FINE, thanks a LOT.

there will be no swimming in the waters of your forgiveness

And I watched you there, lost in your game, and I realized for the first time that seeing you dance has always filled me with light. When I'm alone sometimes, it makes me smile. Among your other doings and ways.

Saving to Images

Okay, so I'm sitting in the car outside the library because I have to stay in town while Andrea is partying it up somewhere. Why in the car? Because the cellphone battery is low, and Andrea needs to call the cell when she's done. However I'm a bit creeped out because the phone is currently taking pictures at seemingly random intervals. On its own. You see, earlier I opened the phone to find that it wasn't really responding to anything I pressed. Then the up button stopped working, and later the up button turned into the Options button, making for some crazy hijinks. Plus, the 5, 6, and 7 buttons were giving me numbers, but not 5, 6, 7. Yep, the button layout on our phone was magically changed.

But our adventure doesn't end there. After turning it on and off 15 times to make it go away, it decided it wasn't going to be turned off, but instead it would take pictures. I hit the End button to make it stop, and it responded, so I closed the phone. THEN THE THING STARTS TAKING PICS WHILE IT'S CLOSED. I figured I'd let the phone snap away until it tuckered itself out, which it eventually did about 15 minutes later. Later on, when I hadn't touched the phone in a while, it lit up and started taking pictures again. Which brings me to now. It stopped a couple minutes ago. Personally, I think the little guy is frustrated, but I don't how I can put up with this.

last day of skoolz

ive forgotten how to write
all the importance
all the daily doings
all the significance
all the love ive found
none of it
comes out
right