Purge

In every picture I like of her, she's either turning away or has her back to the camera.

What does that say about me?

Beardo

I have not shaved for 9 days straight.

I have never been more itchy in my life.

I am unaware of any benefit facial hair may have.

If not for the fact that the other members of the Big Burn '08 committee are following the same guidelines, I'd have removed this natural velcro by now.

In the same way that I want to show pictures of this to people, I also don't, as this will undoubtedly be the ugliest I will ever be.

(Except for this one.)

Modicum

Believe it or not, I try to maintain a sense of decency. A vague value of right/wrong, which may or may not change from day to day (or situation to situation). Recently, I've come to start wearing ties to work.

After all, I'm a middle-aged middle-manager who performs middlingly -- the least I can do is look the part.

I find people's reactions completely terrifying when I go to work wearing a tie -- as though wearing a tie as a manager is something otherworldly, or done only in the 'olden days' before the rise of "business casual." The reactions are one of two:

1) I've just come from a funeral. "Oh, sorry to hear about your day. I didn't hear what happened. How are you doing?"

2) I've just come from a job interview. "Wow, did you get on with the government yet?"

I've had a lot more of #1 than I'd like this year, but I've never had #2 happen.

The internet is funny again

Goat fight, courtesy of Married to the Sea, has made me laugh more than any other single image -- rivalling even Garfield minus Garfield.

I'm lazy and bored.

The Beautiful People

I hate celebrities. Hate them. I hate, hate, hate them.

Entertainment Tonight is the second sign of the apocalypse.

But the fact that I even know who Lindsay Lohan is shows that there is no escape. We're stuck in this quagmire of suck, and trying to avoid it is like trying not to breathe.

When I find the right way to explain things, I'll show that celebrities today are the same as Greek/Roman gods and goddesses were in their prime.

But for now, look upon this, ye mighty, and smile:



At first glance, it looks like a typical travel picture. A crowded waiting room, with bored, weary travellers waiting for the last security check between wherever they are and wherever they want to be.

And then you notice -- "Hey... Isn't that... Hey, yeah, it is."

Billy Corgan, eating a Spartan salad and pasta from Tupperware.

Remember this: no matter how rich someone is, how famous or infamous they may be, how smart, talented, exalted, athletic, or beautiful they appear to be -- everyone eats left-overs.

The Filters

If you're curious as to why I've started wearing ties semi-regularly to work, this is the best way to explain it:

I am

I am the following things.

I am tired, yet restless.

I am working in exactly 9 hours from when I started typing this sentence.

I am eating too much, and cycling too little.

I am someone who buys a pound of bacon, eats half of it, and forgets the rest in the back of the fridge, only to buy another pound of bacon and repeat this process.

I am going to do laundry tomorrow if it kills me.

I am going to Boston in a few days, and I don't know what I'm going to do with myself once I'm there.

I am not looking for another job, but should be looking for another car and apartment.

I am the guy who sat behind you in grade 11 math class, who you didn't notice, but remembers when you got your hair cut before prom.

I am still trying to make that last sentence into a decent poem. It's been almost 6 years now.

I am not going to buy an XBox 360, despite my friends' best efforts.

I am more comfortable in dress shirts and sweaters than I am in t-shirts.

I am Sizzlak, Kalzzis, Minnietaur, and others.

I am dealing with a sense of dread and regret whenever I drink too much.

I am anxious to return to Europe in the near future.

I am destined to be a footnote to those around me.

I am jealous that my sister is in Egypt, and that I'm stuck here holding down a steady job.

I am unable to bend my right wrist as far back as my left one since I used to to break my fall over a month ago.

I am able to go an entire day without speaking aloud to anyone.

I am 31 years old, but I live like a 21 year old, and the worries of a 51 year old.

I am eternally grateful for my friends. All of them. Even the ones that I don't see, or hear from on a regular basis, or who live in different cities, coasts, countries, or continents.

I am somehow getting worse at hockey than I was earlier in the season.

I am extremely particular about the clothes I wear, especially sweaters: no fitted cuffs, no fitted bottoms, no V-necks, no wide/scoop necks, no patterns aside from stripes.

I am saddened that I left my education behind me.

I am wishing I went to the drug store this afternoon.

I am unable to drive a standard, change a tire, or fix my damn windshield wipers.

I am dusty and rusty, and living in a state of suspended animation in my apartment.

I am going to try to post on this blog more often.

I am -- no, really, I am!

I am uneasy at saying "No" to people, situations, or opinions.

I am amazed at how Owen looks like a generic Gillespie -- or will, as soon as his hair comes in fully.

I am queasy when I finish a sentence with a preposition.

I am more cultured than most people would know.

I am often embarassed about my behaviour.

I am going to sleep now, because I want to wake up early, eat pastries, and get to work on time.

The joy and trouble of division

Learning long-form division in school confused me.

Take something, and divide it equally. If it doesn't fit the prescribed amount wanted, it's a remainder. "But," I argued, "why can't the remainder be shared?"

"It's not enough, so it's a remainder."

I later learned about decimals, which cleared my conscience.

I've gone on record many, many times saying that I don't like math... but there is a certain poetry to the terminology used.

In real life, there are many remainders that can't be expressed as numbers.

Travelogue: Paris

The highlight of Vacation '07 was obviously my first sojourn to Paris.

Having been planned for over three months, and meticulously scheduled by my partner-in-rhyme K-, my first European visit involved: numerous medieval churches; ancient artifacts in museums; dizzying heights of high fashion; about 50 km of walking; an uncountable number of pastries (specifically chaussons aux pommes); only two glasses of wine; 580 pictures, of which I may be happy with 100; solving the mystery of The Code; late-night trips up a winding staircase to use the WC; and sightings of a mime, a marionette, a beret, numerous baguettes, and une bicyclette avec une panier.

Photographic evidence can be found here, broken into easily-identifiable sites and events.

If anyone has any suggestions on a program that allows me to comment on photos in galleries, let me know, since I know, sadly, that I will confuse at least half of the church pictures very soon.

Family, Friends, and Folding

Vacation '07, day 2.

I don't spend nearly enough time with my family.

When I do, it is usually for a purpose. Either their computer isn't working (as is the case today), or I have laundry to do (as is the case today), or they want to go out to eat (as is the case today), or my brother wants to borrow PS2 games (as is the case today).

I do feel guilty that I'm rarely there, what with work and going over across and all the other incidentals that get in the way, but I remind myself that they also don't often have time to see me either. Not that it's anyone's fault but our own. Work saps a lot of time and energy from everyone, and to be honest, my apartment is the worst place to entertain anyone but myself.

Tonight's plan, after folding three more loads of laundry, is to play poker at Mike's. It's almost semi-weekly now, which is great. I still only win about 10-15% of the time, but it's never about winning when you're hanging out with friends. Also, the wagers are too small to make much of a difference anyway. I tend to try to bluff people (with an intimidating 50-cent bet), but it rarely works. I should fold more often, but there's always -- always -- a chance that my card could come up on the river, so I'm usually in until the end.

As the advice from an anonymous poker star extraordinaire goes, "Only fold if you've got nothing, and you're sure everyone else does too."

Pictures forthcoming tomorrow morning.