07 // Of Thinkers and Doers

Of which I am neither, but a secret third option.

It seems that my writing hibernates. It's a bit ironic how I was just writing about there being a surprising lack of snow in November, and now I'm writing in February, now that the snow has started to melt. I guess I could blame university for the not-so-sudden delay in getting monthly posts up, but I won't. Instead, I will simply say that it's because nothing notable has happened. But now there are a few things that just barely get across the line of meaningless.

Recently, a content creator I used to watch has come back. Usually, this would make people happy. There is one tiny issue. The creator I watched went on an indefinite hiatus after being accused of abuse by his former girlfriend. Not exactly a person you should be happy is back. 

And here's where my morally ill side shows. I don't know how I feel about this. I know what I should feel, abuse is intolerable after all. But I can't seem to get myself to be upset about it. He was a big part of my life, especially during the pandemic, where I was exceptionally impressionable and cringe. I really did love him. It was almost approaching para-social. Though I'm hardly alone or to blame. It's widely regarded that he contributed to his strange, obsessive, fandom’s behaviour. 

Also, it's generally accepted that it wasn't the abuse itself, but the response and apology [or lack thereof] that was really problematic.

Currently, my biggest dilemma is with his music. He had always made music, and I liked it. It was usually super humorous, meta songs that would rightfully be considered cringe today. But in 2021, he formed a band. And let me tell you, it was good. So good that I downloaded all their songs and listened to them every day. The songs felt raw and emotional and were so “relatable” to me in a way I didn't actually understand at that age, but I can say are more relatable now. They were indie rock, a genre I had no experience in at the time but would quickly grow to love because of them. Despite everything, I still love the songs. I don't think I should, but I can't help it. Morally, I know it's wrong to be enjoying the creations of an alleged abuser, but I just can't feel any real guilt from it. 

To top it off, he's made a content shift since coming back, now moving to, get this, geography edutainment content. It's almost hilarious how this could not be any more up my alley. I find it concerning how well matched his interests are to mine. Him and his band have also restarted making music, planning to release a concept album this year.

Don't get me wrong, dear reader. I'm in no crisis, nor am I experiencing any sort of distress over this. I'm simply wondering how badly I'm in the wrong. Maybe that's a question I will never have answered. At least not until I get older and have my morals realigned with the proper ones. Till then, I'll just stop thinking about this, since It's All Futile! It's All Pointless!

06 // Nothing Nowhere Never At All

Or 3N2A for short. 

I must apologize for not posting anything for 2 months. However, since my last post was on September 29, I will count that as basically being October, therefore, it's only been 1 month and not 2.

Anyway, I had a list of things to write about, but it's been so long that some of them are obsolete. One of those things was just going to be me complaining about the “dog days of summer,” whatever that was supposed to mean. I wanted to write about missing the winter time and snow, but because it's November, there's no point anymore [though there isn't any snow yet, strangely.] While I'm at it, let me list off some other topics that will never get the proper explanation I planned:

- A reflection of my time in highschool

- Weight fluctuations and being generally out of shape

- My favorite architectural/interior designs/designers

- Starting my first job 

- Starting University

- Signing an anti-seperation petition

- Review of an ex-antivaxxer article

- Strange things happening in the city, a weird stench, people acting oddly

Some of these may have made interesting posts, but probably not. I may revisit a few of them in the future. But I probably won't. 

One thing I will explain, however, is that I got my first job! It's quite nice and I do like it. I work in a little shop where I make pretzels. And sandwiches. And sometimes coffee. Despite the fact that I only got it nepotisticly, I think it's a good fit for me. I treat it like a giant real life game of Papa's Pizzeria, so you could say I've been training all my life. It's a pretty small shop, so I've got 2 coworkers and a boss. My coworkers really make the job interesting, take that how you will. An entry on them will most definitely be happening. 

05 // Lost and Found

And Lost Again...

---

So far in my life, I've noticed two [2] things.

1. That when people don't want to be found, it's quite hard to find them once lost.

2. I have the tendency to accidently end friendships due to pure insensitivity

One of the less good parts of my psyche is that of always wanting information. I am a bit of a hoarder, physically and digitally. I have boxes full of scraps under my bed. Bottle caps, paper bits, ribbons, rocks. All sorts of things. Of course, like most hoarders, these items have absolutely no value to the real world. I, however, find them immensely sentimental. So much so that I keep shards of broken glass cups just because I liked the cup and used to use it when I was younger. I've become obsessive over my hoarded items, and great distress falls upon me whenever I can't find one, or am suggested [forced] to get rid of them.

I am the same way with people.

Of course not physically. I don't have the physical abilities to constrain someone simply for my own interests, though I often wish I could. I instead resort to personal information. Phone numbers, addresses, emails, birthdays, education, workplace, eye colour, height, license plates, online photos, social media, signatures, etcetera. Though some people may not think it's the most normal thing, I see no trouble with it. I'm not using the information maliciously, nor am I selling it. It's all for my own peace of mind. So what's the harm?

For the most part, if I wanted someone's information, I usually got it. But there has been one person that I am unable to find anything on. Well, two people, but I don't really care for one of them as much as I do for the other. He's a friend of mine. At least, he's my friend. I'm not exactly sure if I'm his. I've known him for sometime now. 2021. But it feels longer. Remember the guy I was talking about in section 3 of my last post? That's him. His name is Hunter. We were in the same friend group for two years, then split after starting highschool. I didn't think about him much. Until we reconnected in the library of my highschool. I think our energies had significantly aligned over the summer. I thought we were going to be friends again. Then, he stopped meeting with me. 

I tried to email him. He responded. I asked for his Discord. He refused. I was a bit puzzled. Why would he refuse? We were on good terms. Great terms, even. I kept asking. I made a couple of jokes I probably shouldn't have. He stopped responding.

This is when I started to panic. Because at this point, the school year was almost over. I only had his school email. I was going to lose contact with him. I didn't have his phone number, home email, address, or any social media… this was it. And Hunter was one of those people who didn't have any social media. Or none with his name attached, at least.

School ended, and there I was, with nothing to show. I tried to put him out of my mind for as long as possible, but my last post had me missing him a little bit. I thought that hope was lost. I let the sadness consume me a little bit. Then I started thinking. I realized I had some options. 

I remember talking with him about what we'd do after high school. He mentioned what school he planned to go to. That was a lead. I searched said school website for their student email format. I plugged in his name, wrote a message, and hoped for the best. As of this update time, I have had no response. I'm a little bit crushed.

I have one other option, and it's my last before I have to go through a mutual friend to ask for Hunter's phone number.

I had gotten his discord back in 2021, with a different account. I have since lost that account after enabling the cursed 2 Factor Authentication feature. Never again. My only hope is to somehow get back into my old Discord account. 

I am currently running a program to try every number combination possible, to try and get back in. It's my last resort.

I really hope it works.

---

Let me now explain to you, dear reader, why I care so much about him.

It's quite simple actually. He just embodied the kind of friend I wanted. He was one of those quiet, closed off boys that kept to themselves. But once you got to know him, he really opened up. He was hilarious and could be kind of you looked deep enough  He was suicidal. That bugged me a bit, his lack of self confidence. He was definitely lonely, and I wanted to keep him company. I guess that's one of the reasons I wanted to stay friends; to look out for him. Corny, but it's true. 

He plays in a band, has some shady friends, but doesn't drink or smoke. He does get up to some fun, though. Once, he happened to drag me into some fun, as well. We were hanging around the school, by some closed off abandoned stairwell. He had the great idea to lock me behind the stairwell doors. We thought it was hilarious, until I heard the assistant principal's voice. I banged on the door. Hunter just stood there, laughing at me. Eventually he let me out, and we ran. We laughed a lot that day.

Hanging around him definitely would have tarnished my "good student with a somewhat acceptable social life" reputation, but I don't think I mind.

---

The loss of Hunter is really hard for me. Like I said, I usually don't lose all contact with someone, unless I want to. I'm a creep, and make sure that I will never lose track of people. Hunter is the first person I can't find anything on. I'm mourning him. I guess it just was Never Meant.

Thank you, reader

 

Listening for the Weather

Listening for the Weather

Bic Runga

It's a pity they don't make songs as good as this one anymore. Bic's songs have really resonated with me these days, as I too, listen for the weather to predict the coming day. It's a great piece to listen to while on the train at 9 in the morning.

04 // A Place For Everything...

And everything in its place. Except for me, apparently…

Look, I'm about to sound so cliche and boring and unoriginal, I promise I'm not pity-baiting or sadfishing, despite how it may sound.

I am almost positive that I am wasting my teenage years, and I can explain.

---

First and foremost, I am not popular in school. I never really was, though I did often have a pretty tight friend group of around 7 people at its max. Most of my friendships were those of circumstance, since I went to a science-focused middle school and there were barely any girls in my classes anyways. 

When I went to high school, I literally had no one. That was alright, I wasn't worried. I thought I'd probably make some friends eventually. So I went through my first year of high school friendless. Then my second. Then my last. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I had nobody, or like I didn't try. I tried plenty. And I had at least one person in almost all of my classes that I could rely on or partner up with. The problem is that all those people had their own friends. Everyone already had a solid friend group.

Of course there were the oddballs. I did happen to meet a girl in Bio class in my first year. Her name was Fernanda, and she was from Guatemala. I asked if I could sit beside her, and she seemed pretty happy with the idea. She loved anime. And I mean loved it. Especially one called Ouran Highschool Host Club. She even got me to watch it. I did enjoy it. 

The problem was that all this happened more than halfway through the year. It was practically too late to create any real friendship outside of Bio class.

---

Now, being friendless isn't my reasoning for saying I'm wasting my teenage years [who needs friends anyway?] But it sure is contributing.

Along with having no friends, I am a loser. 

A hermit.

A hikikomori, if you will. But not by choice. I do want to go out. I want to have fun. I want to leave my house and get in trouble and break the law and do something stupid. I just can’t.

For one, I don't know how. And two, I have too much riding on me being a good kid. Yup, I'm a stereotypical child of an immigrant who must do well in school [which I do, by the way] and make their family proud. And I have no problems with that. I would love to be an academic genius who goes on to be a bigtime profesh with my name on a plaque somewhere in silver Times New Roman font, wracking in the dough. I would also like to spend all day outside with a group of teenage delinquents, biking around suburbia and getting gas station slushies until the sun goes down. Or staying inside and sitting in a basement at 10pm in the middle of summer with a fan rotating in the corner, talking about how Coke is better and how DC steamrolls Marvel.

This, I believe, is what teenagehood is filled with. At least that's how it should be. This is what Hunter, a guy I've known for 4 years now, said his life was like. This is what I see when I look online at videos of teenage boys swinging into a suspicious lake from a rope on a tree, posted in 2012 [yes I'm talking about you, Head in the Ceiling Fan.]

Staying at home all summer except for a family excursion is fine, but some friends never hurt anyone, right?

And no, I'm not asking for a picture perfect summer filled with romance and beach trips, just something that feels normal. It's not like I'm not trying. I've got a bike or two. Never ride it. I got a skateboard 3 years ago. Never ride it. I listen to American Football. I read the comics. I watch the wrestling. I dress the part. 

And yet, here we are. You know what? I think this is all because I am

1. A girl

2. African

3. In a big city

Of course, nothing wrong with any of those things, just that they don't really help when trying to be a nerd delinquent just having fun. At this point I don't even feel like I'm acting nerdy enough to call myself a nerd, I’m just pretending to be a nerd. It's not that I want the whole wide world to know that I'm a nerd, I just want to know that there are people who like what I like, and act how I act.

Here’s the real kicker, I'm practically too late to even live my “dream.” I’m almost 18. Almost an adult. Just thinking about it makes me want to barf. I don't want to think of myself as an adult. I definitely don't feel like one. Then again, it's not like I’m any good at being a teenager. I guess I just wanted to have fun and be a bit whimsical without responsibilities. But now I gotta face the sun and start acting my age. It's unfortunate that I spent all my summers at home, but I can't change the past.

I told you this was gonna sound like sympathy bait.

---

My last hope is University. Hopefully, I'll meet some people to get into trouble with. I heard it's a good place for that kind of stuff. Anyway that’s all for this post! 

Thank you, reader.

03 // Against All Odds

And trust me, there were a lot of odds.

I LOVE SUPERHEROS. This is a quote from Incredibles 2. And though I do agree, even I think it's a bit too nerdy.

Anyway, I watched Superman! In theatres! I broke the streak!

You remember, dear reader, how I was hoping that Superman was going to be the movie that I finally watched in theatres, no matter what stands in my way? Well I guess my wish came true. 

But it wasn't easy…

You see, I didn't just try to watch Superman once, but twice. The first time, I was running an errand at my local MegaMall and was supposed to wait there for a bit. Since there was a Cineplex at said MegaMall, I thought I may as well watch it. So I got all dressed up in my Superman Swag™ which included a Superman shirt in size 10-12, a pair of my baggiest jeans, and a red GAP zip up from 2011 in size 6-7, and a forkload of Superman paraphernalia. I'm talking a Superman stuffy on a thin belt as a necklace, a Superman logo cutout safety pinned to my zip up, a Superman mini figure also safety pinned to my zip up with the duplicate in my pocket, and to top it all off a Superman action figure tucked into my shirt with his arms and head popping out.

I was blinged out, to say the least.

My apparel was originally meant to be a little more loser, with a button up collared shirt, but I decided to dress a little cooler so I didn't look like one of those anime Otaku losers. 

I still looked like a fool, but at least I felt great!

Anyway, I pull up to the MegaMall fully decked out, about to step into the theater when I reach into my pocket to look for my Great Escape Cineplex ticket which was gifted to me 2 years ago. It's not there. Of course it isn't there. Why would it be.

Instead of sulking, I decided to see if I can at least buy the Superman popcorn bucket. The one that looks like a newspaper dispenser. It's a beautiful red and I heard it's the right size to fit comic books in! Do I have any comic books? No, only one given to me by some guy in a Walmart parking lot on 130th Ave, talking about “the world is ending” or something. Nevertheless, I wanted it.

I walk up to the overpriced concession stand, I look around. I do see the other Superman popcorn bucket, the clear laser one, but that's not what I want. I ask the young looking cashier if they had other ones. He said he was new and didn't know. I played along with his game. I asked how much it was with no intention of actually buying it. $50. He said $50. I nod my head like it was reasonable. I leave there as fast as possible. Keep in mind, dear reader, I am NOT a Communist, but I heard somewhere that “You ain’t been doing nothing if you ain’t been called a Red.” And at this moment, I was a blood red anticapitalist commie.

I go back home on the train, except now I look like a fool and feel like one. I'm just lucky no one tried to chat with me, potentially giving me spoilers. I wouldn't blame them, I can see what it looks like from their perspective. 

I go home defeated, but with my spirit still high. 

July 27 rolls around, and I try again. This time, I plan to go. I dress up in the same Superman Swag™, accessories and all. This time, I actually have my ticket. I go back to the MegaMall, head straight for the theater, get mildly upset that ticket prices don't change by age, use my ticket, and get my drinks. I. Am. Ecstatic. 

Though it may seem trivial, I don't go to the movies often. Once every 2 or 3 years. This is really a thrill for me. I was buzzing inside. 

When the screening time nears, I get in there, find my seat, watch the previews. Then it starts.

Now, I would like to inform you that I don't have the greatest memory. Thusly, I have forgotten most of the movie. I am unable to give a real review. All I can say, is that it was Wonderful. 

Upstate Blues

Upstate Blues

Into it. Over it.

I listened to this song on my last day of high school. I think it's quite nice. My sister likes to sing it. So much so that I typed out the lyrics and made them into a document. I plan to print out the lyrics real small and keep them in my wallet [I don't have a wallet.]

02 // I've Contracted C.O.P.

Who in their right mind would buy hot food in hot weather?

A persons first job is often a somewhat important milestone for a person. It marks their first entrance into the corporate machine of the capitalism of the West. A first job signifies a persons metamorphosis from the sporadic lifestyle of a free man, to the structured, predictable routine of a white, blue, red, pink, gold, and black collar worker.

I have found myself with a job. 

Well, I didn't find it. I got it through nepotism. But that part doesn't really matter. The point is, I was no longer unemployed. 

If you're reading this, you most likely know what the Calgary Stampede is. If not, let me describe it. 10 days of cowboy cosplay and overpriced water. That's all you need to know for this post. Around the end of June, I was suddenly informed that I was going to work at The Colossal Onion during the Stampede. I had not applied to any job, but the catcalls of "unemployed" being thrown at me every day for the better part of 6 months, I just went along with it.

First day I get there, I walk into a large white tent. Only it isn't a tent, more like a canopy, as it lacks 3 of 4 walls. [Remember this.] By the one wall, there are 2 pallets, both stocked up with multiple bags of yellow onions, taller than me, but that isn't saying much.

Now, dear reader, you most likely have guessed by this point, but I really, really do not like onions.

I decided to give it a shot. This was my first job after all, and we all know beggars can't be choosers. A beefy man comes into the canopy. Shaved sides with a thin ponytail, has an accent I can't place. It could just be Ontarian. Immediately, I'm not fond of him. He looks quite uninviting and mean. His voice doesn't help. I'm asked to start peeling onions. I comply.

… That's it.

I peel onions from 1pm to 6pm. 5 hours. Though this may seem elementary to you, this was not my cup of tea. Of course, I couldn't just peel the onions. Remember the part about the canopy missing 3 walls? Well wouldn't you know, it also didn't have the most structurally sound roof. I also happened to be stationed at that very part of the canopy. It rained. And not just a sprinkling. I had to endure a torrential rainstorm while peeling onions. My clothes were soaked, my cowboy themed bootcut jeans were drenched, and my eyes were saturated with the smell of onions.

I was not a happy camper in the slightest and I knew I could not survive another day of that, let alone 10. Thankfully, nepotism came through again and I was able to be transferred from my onion hell to another place at the Stampede. I was now a worker at Chick'n Chips.

---

Chick'n Chips was galaxies better than the Colossal Onion. The work wasn't mind-numbing, I didn't reek of onions at the end of the day, and since it was a food truck, I didn't get soaked whenever it rained, which it did. But this also marks the beginning of me contracting what I'm going to call Canola Oil Psychosis [C.O.P.] I contracted C.O.P. from being in that food truck for hours everyday for 10 days, inhaling the Canola smoke from the 4 massive industrial fryers. As a former culinary arts student, I am no stranger to smoke, but not to this degree.

Some days at the chicken shop were slow. I would often find myself standing by the pneumatic potato chipper, setting it on and off just for the little gust of air it provided. I believe that the large clouds of hot oil fumes, along with the 30° C weather combined to send me into a state of C.O.P. To put into perspective just how bored I was, I was able to find time to write little memos on pieces of paper towel and napkins with a borrowed Bic pen. I wrote 6 entries in 1 day. Here is an excerpt: 

"Am I in Limbo? At least they sometimes play Cadillac Ranch so I can boogie on occasion. The Ferris wheel and Giant spinning ride things are my only company..." - 11:49

As you can see, the fumes were clearly getting to me.

Despite my obvious mental decline à la Joe Biden, I was happy at the chicken shop. I was glad to be free from the slave labour of the onion place, and was sure I would never have to deal with it again. I guess it just wasn't in my stars...

One random day, the owner of both the chicken shop and onion place comes up to me and delivers some of the worst news of my life. I had to go back to the onion. I, being a people pleaser, comply without complaint, but on the inside, I was crying. My time back at the onion was brief but insufferable. The task hadn't changed from the first day I was there. It was even raining again. After about 30 minutes of peeling, I decide I couldn't take it anymore. I run back to the chicken shop [it's a 6 minute walk at least] and beg my "manager." I told them that if the shop got even a few customers to call me back here. They said yes, and I now had a glimmer of hope. I run back to the onion place and continue peeling, now with the possibility of parole. Those minutes waiting to see if my manager could come back were grueling. I was truly left in Limbo, losing hope by the onion.

Until I saw their cowboy hat. When I tell you, dear reader, that I beamed like I've never beamed before. I quickly packed up my things, put up my hood, and ran back to the chicken shop. I was ecstatic, with my face soaked in rain and a smile on my face, laughing like a maniac. That was the happiest I've been in a long time.

The rest of the Stampede went relatively well for me after that. Served some people, inhaled some fumes, gave some directions, served some British people, it was all smooth sailing. And when the 10 days had finally come to an end, I was quite happy with what I had done.  

---

Now when I look back at my time at both The Colossal Onion and Chick'n Chips, I realize it wasn't the most extravagant of work, but it was more than enough of an experience for me. I can proudly say, I will be returning next year. Not to the onion place, just to be clear. I don't plan on stepping foot in there ever again.

But hey, at least I got a band from it.

Thank you, reader.

01 // Better Late Than Never

Right? 

Well, I suppose it's time I started collecting my thoughts into something legible, give my poor notes app a break and all. I don't plan to make this particularly fancy or polished. Its only purpose is to act as a thought dumping ground. 

And no, I won't call it a blog. I don't like the sound of a blog.

---

How about I tell you about a movie I recently watched.

I was sitting at home, doing nothing as usual, when I turn on the Silver Screen Classics channel. Immediately I'm dropped into the middle of a movie. Seeing as I have time, I decide to tune in. I do love the 60's. It seems to be some girl named Charity Valentine, trying to get a job. 

Ok. It looks promising. It's called Sweet Charity.

I watch the movie. Turns out its half movie, half musical. 

There's some fun moments, a Sammi Davis Jr cameo. Yeah Daddy-O.

By around the 3 quarters mark, I'm invested. I'm watching it and I start rooting for Charity. Wholeheartedly. I call it the sweetest movie I've seen in a hot minute.

End of the movie. I'm devastated. No [true] happy ending. I'm crying, hiding my tears. 

Now despite the ending, that really was one of the better movies I've seen, though that's not saying much, since I can count all the movies I've seen on one hand. Still, I love when a movie can make me feel something. Doesn't happen so much with newer movies. Its been a while since I've had a joy cry.

---

I do love televised movies. I'm definitely a cable tv person, always have been. I've never had subscription  streaming services, and I don't see the point. 

I'm not the best when it comes to watching movies. I always make a plan to, then never actually follow through. I think its because of the choice of film. They're often quite nerdy... or unappealing to the average person. I'm planning on watching the new Superman movie coming in in July. Once again, I've fallen into the same routine: Found a cool movie, wanna see it, no friends, movie date approaches, decide I no longer wanna see it, miss the movie, self guilt and pity commences. 

I hope Kal-El breaks that streak, but who knows. Commitment is definitely not my strong suit, but hey, c'est la vie. If I do see it, I'll try to update how it goes.

---

Well I'd say that's good enough for a first update. Maybe I'll add a section of this site for some of my favorite media. Or maybe a tracker for all my global signatures. I'd like to add a bunch of cool features to this place, make it interesting.

Thank you, reader.