Greg's Mindstuff

11:17PM - Blogworthy E-mails

The following is a real e-mail exchange I had with a customer service rep at Lee Valley Tools.
They did, in fact, send me the new catalogue and it was in a fairly plain package. :)

---

RE: Order 2875411 Greg Wotton

[snip]product enquiry[/snip]

Also, a local floor installing company seems to have absconded with my catalogue.
Having moved here from a larger city I expected that everyone had heard of Lee
Valley Tools. I guess I was wrong. "It's like tool porn". Is it possible to get
a second tool catalogue sent please?

Thanks.
Greg Wotton


Hello Mr. Wotton,

[snip]product response[/snip]


We are also sending you (in a plain brown wrapper) another copy of our Woodworking
Tool soft porn catalogue along with a Hardware teaser catalogue to entice you.
These will be sent as soon as they are available (and have cleared the Ontario
Censorship Board). You might want to hide these under the mattress for safekeeping.

We do apologize for any inconvenience that this may have caused for you and we look
forward to hearing from you again.


Regards,
Customer Service

6:43AM - Breaking Nightmares

How does one find security again once it has been taken from us? How do we regain a feeling of safety when it is stolen from us? When the time comes that even our own sanctuary is defiled, how do we ever again feel that there is anywhere in the whole world that is safe? One can never let their guard down, one loses the ability to attach and even when they try, they fail in some twisted nightmare.

Alone I sit, alone in the dark and still, so many years later all I can do is long for home, for the security of a brown brick bungalow surrounded by great Maple trees. A security that was shattered one afternoon when the bully I have come to know as "step-father" decided to teach me a thing or two. Not only was it horrible to have him barrel down the stairs, pick me up, toss me onto the table and, crushing me, scream into my face, but the fact that a friend had to bear witness added embarassment to fear and hatred.

Only this year have I begun to reconnect with that friend, but that's not the only thing that was stolen from me by that hated waste of life. No, even with a witness nobody would back me up. Nobody would accept what had happened. When I tried to tell my mother, Joe just laughed at me and said that if he'd REALLY meant it I'd have been hospitalised. In the end, I had nowhere to go, so I left to stay with a friend while his sister was out of the country.

Year after year and even in the face of failing health that man has made my life difficult. Year after year my girlfriend (later my wife) and I were not allowed to visit my mother, we were not allowed over for Christmas and Thanksgiving. Even after I had to be evacuated to North Bay because the doctors couldn't keep me alive in the city, even then he would not relent. Knowing that my mom's new place up above the pollution was the only place that I could safely visit, I was still not allowed to see my family. All the years that I never got to see my Grandmother before she died he had the nerve to be an asshole to me when I had to visit for her funeral.

He stole my security, my sense of safety, my family, the opportunities to see the people I loved while they were still alive. I hate him. I hate him so much that it feels like my heart will leap from my chest and kill him. He isn't even a pleasent person.

I never liked him. I never liked the way he treated others. I hate his racist bullshit which he thinks is "humour". I hate his intolorance and his basic stupidity. I remember before he attacked me having to sit through meals and listen to his racist rantings and anecdotes of how he'd treated people like shit at work and was proud of it all while I was trying to eat my supper. And it's never changed. For 2 brief years I was welcome (nobody knows why those years were an exception) and even then it was the same hateful shit.

Once during that time I had to leave my place in North Bay because they were paving. I'm deathly allergic to the chemicals that they use so I went to mom's for 2 weeks. It was summer and it was hot and in an attempt to be nice I cut up a watermelon to take into the shop where Joe and his employee were working. The thanks I got? "What's with the fucking Nigger Bait?" Not "Hey, thanks, that's thoughtful." Not "It's fucking hot in here I could use something cold and wet". No. Rather I got to learn a new word for watermelon, something I'd never heard before. How lovely.

It was the next year when we had all gone down for my birthday that he flipped out on me. Screaming and yelling everyone thought he was going to hit me again and part of me hoped, this time he would do it in front of my mother and there would be NO hiding it as his dark fucking secret. He wouldn't be able to spin it, lie and FUCK me over again. Even though he didn't hit me that time it was still pretty viscious and I have only been back once since, for my Grandmother's funeral. And even then, he treated me like total shit.

What's worse is that my one surviving grandparent keeps asking to see me, and the only place that I can breathe down there is at mom's place. I cannot go there, not as long as that bastard is alive because I don't know that he wouldn't come to some kind of horrible accident. After the shit he pulled the last two times I saw him I can never feel safe there as long as he lives.

The worst thing is, I've never felt completely safe since he drove me from the only home I've ever loved. He drove me out by abusing me and then lying about it so that nobody believed me or supported me. He drove me out of the only security I'd ever known and I've never been able to get it back. If he had been repentant, if my mom had been able to support me, if I'd been able to stipulate that I would never be alone in the house with him, who knows what else might not have happened. I might never have ended up living beside the factories which made my allergies so bad that the doctors couldn't keep me alive. Maybe I wouldn't have died twice and had countless anaphylactic reactions. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Joe's initial attack was the last time I was this alone. It was the last time I felt anything like this. And yet, even then, I had friends on my side. Now I feel utterly alone. What friends I have are caught up in their own dramas. The one person I thought I had a deep connection with... well I guess I was wrong about that as well. I suppose it's true that I have a lot of trouble making friends, but part of that is not being able to trust anyone. Everyone leaves, everyone bails out at some point. How can you make an emotional investment in anyone expecting them to run for the hills as soon as they get a glimpse of who you really are, or the aura of mystery fades from their eyes?

The thing is, I've often written about that other trauma, months in hospital on drugs that tore apart my body, the move, the loss, the surgeries, the pain. But this I've tried to keep inside, to protect others while my hate burns me in silence. That's not fair. It's not fair that I know every time I say the wrong thing that bastard coward takes it out on my mom. He doesn't even KNOW how easy it would be to hate him to death, and that's not fair either.

Alone I sit, always wondering when the next nightmare will become reality. Alone I wonder whether I will ever be able to open up to another person again in this life, to make a real connection and feel total trust... and not have it betrayed. Even those who are "close" are kept at a distance. I don't see that healing any time soon either.

All of my good dreams are of the house on Harmony Rd. I've lost all hope of ever getting back that sense of home, security, and love. At least, in this incarnation.

6:07AM - Ranting about Life

I've been out and about this weekend, which has hardly started but that's besides the point. I've been out and about and wearing a lovely ruffed shirt with a black suit jacket and a black cape and white frills sticking out all over. I've worn this all over the place and I have to say, I like it. I like it alot. I'm so damned BORED with everyone's crappy THING. The jeans and the hoodie and the ballcap and the trainers. That's men's FASHION nowadays. It's like I fell into REDNECK HEAVEN which is the same as HELL for the rest of us. I'm TIRED of it all. I keep trying to COMPROMISE and fit-in in ways that obviously make me uncomfortable. I can't just WEAR the same old shit and not look like a phoney. Yet I can wear what's basically 19th century formal wear and feel perfectly at home. I want my Dashiki again, I loved those things but the one I own doesn't fit anymore. I'd wear them everywhere, I would.

It's because of this whole CRAP of trying to be who I'm not. I've spent too long trying to find a way to be ACCEPTABLE to everyone around me, and they've all left anyway, so why does any of it matter? Does anyone give a damn what I wear anymore? Nobody's left to be embarassed or made uncomfortable or have to do 'damage control' because I'm drowning in a pit of self-denial and little bits of me escape in what can only be described as a kind of death rattle turret's.

I found that I LIKE wearing these other clothes in public. I get into far more interesting conversations. It's not like North Bay has a Goth/Vampire bar where people can actually dress up for a change. NO, not here. Sure EVERY woman in town is reading Vampire books and every one of them knows deep down that the Vampire and the Wizard gives them a tingly feeling in their bellies, but they won't come out and say "HEY, that English Rennaissance outfit makes my nipples shiver". No, can't do that, it's a good, respectable and, above all, conservative town.

I have to say, I have to say that I'm very VERY impressed with the people who have made the effort to befriend me. I have to say that it can't be easy, except that I know one or two of them are just as fucking eccentric as I am but have repressed it all of their lives and managed to make a go of it, even if some of them are not happy. I know, I know it's hard to do, but I've seen it, I've watched them PURPOSEFULLY get me drunk, just to hear me rant! The difference is, I don't feel like I have much to lose anymore. They have their jobs and their families and so they put on the mask and play nice with the other inmates. But I have none of that! Not anymore! So what the fuck?

The fact is, I want to go back, I want to go back to a time when I was healthy and I didn't hurt and I wasn't filled with constant self-doubt mingled with self-loathing at my pain and inability to cope with the same dull shit that everyone else manages. I remember being so self-assured that I'd walk around naked at campsites and dance around fires and take my pants off at parties. Not now, FEAR has had my balls in a vise for FAR too long. Maybe when you give into the illusion that you have something, anything, it's easy to fear its loss.

I know I don't fit in up here. I know I don't. I try but I can't and the trying is often seen as a lie. I even have friends who refer to me as "highly functioning" and applaud my attempts to break out of the social exile which I've lived with for so long. One person said that they'd known Aspies who never left the house and I pointed out that it took me seven years to make contact with the people who are my neighbours, the people I'm "co-operating" with in order to live. And some are kind, and some are patient but I know some of them are friendly because of the uniqueness.

"Look, this is the Greg. He's a Witch, and a Wizard and a Subgenius and terribly, terribly clever with an IQ of several million and nine. We just found him on the side of the road, perfectly good except for a few twitches here and there. Marvellous fellow. Want to see him do a trick?"

Maybe that's unfair but I HAVE heard some of those very things come out of their mouths. Perhaps I'm paraphrasing somewhat, but you get the idea.

The thing is, the thing is... who am I trying to impress anymore? Everyone seems to know when you're faking so why bother? Why not wear great Saxon sleeves and a hat? It's a damned sight better than the hundred zombies at the pub wearing the same hoodies and ballcaps. One woman told me that if a man is not wearing sneakers then he's considered DRESSED UP in North Bay. Holy CRAP people. What kind of HELL is this and where's my return ticket?

No I know, I know that the Fama and all that tells us to wear the habit of the country in which we dwell. I get that, I really do, but honestly a Monk's Habit can only be an improvement over the boring shite that they all wear now. Sure, in High school I was all about the tee-shirts and jeans and the leather jacket, and the leather boots and the long hair and the briefcase. And, OK, some people wore some of those things, though often not at the same time, but I still felt so much better like that back then. And even then I'd wear a bell sleeved Dashiki with a rope belt, and guess what, I got compliments!

Now I do wish, I do wish I had a proper leather jacket that fit me, but I've lost so much confidence in myself that it might not even help. I've even learned to believe that all I can speak is rubbish and that people will inevitably go screaming in the opposite direction when I talk to them for more than five minutes. The thing I have to learn, the thing I have to RE-learn is that... those aren't the people I WANT to talk to for more than five minutes ANYWAY! It's not easy in a place like this, it's not, but you know what, I think that if I do go out and dress differently, if I do go out and try to ACTUALLY be 'myself' I might attract the more interesting people from an otherwise homogeonous, and let's admit it, rather stupid and boring, crowd.

It's not JUST that nobody understands anything I say, some have the basic descency to ask me for definitions when I'm talking. It's that trying to blend in means that I end up that nervous fellow in the corner who doesn't move much and looks like there's something uncomfortable going on in his trousers. They can smell that I'm lying. They know this isn't me, like a man in a gorilla costume trying to hang out with gorillas. He doesn't smell right, he doesn't look right, something's out of place. But if he goes in as a man (or a woman) they're far more accepting. I don't see Jane Goodall wearing a gorilla outfit. That's my POINT!

So my great experiment is to try to actually be myself. Try to be the guy who wore a circle cloak to school one semester. That guy who carried a leather briefcase to school even though the rest of his ensamble looked like it came from an early WASP concert. Giving myself permission to be myself is hard. I've had years of training otherwise. I've tried to fit in, to be one of THEM, to hand over my SLACK on a bloody plate of tears. But I don't have to worry anymore. I have no job to get fired from, no family to abandon me, nobody to adversely affect. I don't have to say "HEY, if I do this so-and-so's carreer might suffer". The only thing I can lose is my place to live and that's up to a board of directors, all of whome consider me a friend, most of whome find my eccentricities interesting, amusing and/or entertaining. The only person that might be an obstacle already hates me anyway.

I have to re-learn to be myself. All of the self I've repressed into the Shadow Box has to be opened up again. All of the ME that has been locked away due to circumstances, expectations and even my heath nightmare, all has to be brought out and shown the sunlight again. Kind of like pulling the stuff out from under the stairs to sort through it and trim the rubbish and rediscover the treasures. I didn't say it would be easy, but I think wearing things that I like, things that compliment an enormously tall fellow with long hair and a beard, things that make me feel alive again, can't be a bad start.

... or kill me!

4:39AM - Star Wars Prequels

I've just finished watching the Star Wars Prequels (I ~ III) and let me first say they are at least as bad as I remember them being. Apparently George has lost all sense of time and felt that Star Wars is a children's film.

Three things bug me right away... obviously Jar Jar friggin Binks who is considered an idiot even amongst his own people, yet they make him their representative in the Republic Council. The army droids: Why the hell do the droid military units say "roger roger"? It's annoying. Why would you program army droids with self preservation instincts? So that they run away and beg for mercy while Jedi are slaughtering the leaders of course. And finally, no matter how awesome the CG is, compositing CG and Live Action always looks composited. Puppets, models and sets just LOOK better onscreen.

It gets worse if you actually knew the backstories BEFORE they released the Prequels. Like how Vader spent years hunting the Jedi into extinction after destroying the council. No, now we're to believe that the ENTIRE galaxy was policed by a dozen Jedi Masters because in the Prequels there are no more Jedi than the council holds... and all but 2 were killed by Clone Troopers. The interim 19 years is rife with stories of Vader hunting and killing Jedi.

The Sith are always two, one master, one apprentice. Yet I'm certain that the Old Republic storylines talk about Sith temples and even Sith armies. Yes, masters are generally killed by their apprentices, but it makes no sense at all for there never to be more than two. That's stupid. The reason there was only Palpatine and Vader was because the Sith had been wiped out and Vader's hunt was retalliation. Maybe the idea of there only being two is new since about 1000 years before the prequels they hunt down and kill the remaining Sith and create the Republic.

Time is apparently not an issue. Ben Kenobi, in Ep IV says that he hasn't gone by the name of Obi-Wan since long before Luke was born. Yet he's still Obi-Wan when he delivers the infant Luke to the Lars' as a fosterling.

And talk about ageing. From EpI where Obi-Wan is Qui-Gon's apprentice and Anikin is, 9 yrs old to epIII where Anikin is a grown man of 22 old Obi-Wan grows a beard. The Force keeps Jedi alive for a VERY long time so why is it that by the time Luke is 19, Obi-Wan goes from being a bearded Ewan McGregor to an ancient looking Sir Alec Guinness? Tattooine isn't THAT harsh, not on a fully empowered Jedi.

And what's with building crews? It takes nearly 20 years to build the first Death Star but the second one is operational in four? (assuming immediate reconstruction after the first one is destroyed).

Most of the expanded universe makes sense and works consistantly. Yes there are minor details here and there but nothing quite as glaring as the mess the Prequels made of the timeline. (OK, Jaycen Solo becoming a Sith Lord makes no sense to me since he was the one who broke the Light/Dark barrier and re-wrote the Jedi paradigm while captured by the Yuuzahan Vong.)

The only good thing I can say is that the fighting is well coreographed and the space battles are spectacular. (Though at the beginning of epIII when the ship is listing I don't know why R2-D2 falls. Astromech droids have magnetic wheels so that they can crawl along the surface of a ship and do repairs. All he had to do was turn on the magnets when the ship started to list... or use the magical new flying jets he was given in EpII.)

I guess I'd hoped that my memory of these movies was overly critical. But they weren't, they suck.

1:45PM - Musicians in North Bay

Seriously... get an engineer, get a buddy to stand at the back of the room, do not adjust your volume under the influence of alcohol. On the weekend I was at a bar and the band was SO LOUD nobody could stand it. Seriously. On a Saturday Night there were like 6 people in the place and most were outside smoking becuase the band SOUNDED BETTER out there. Nobody needs to crank a full Marshall stack in a livingroom! (You may have guessed where I was...). But friends, this was not the first time, nor the only bar I've had this problem with. I've met many a talented musician who is, apparently, incapable of setting their sound gear.

Time and again I've heard bands so loud and so high that they make your ears pop at every word. A pain shooting through your skull saying "Please GODS set your damned EQ!". I don't know what the sound was like at check time (assuming there was one) but by the end of the night the mix is so fucked from each musician cranking up his/her individual instrument that cacophany is the only word that seems appropriate. (And the band on the weekend managed to play one song with each musician in a different key...)

The bars in NB are small, physically small. You can't get far enough away from the band for them to be cranking the equipment to max, sometimes to the point of clipping and distortion. It sounds like shit people! Now I know, these small bars and clubs can't afford to install a board at the back of the room, in fact, there's not enough room for an engineer at the back since they tend to be horribly laid out. The bands have to step up and take responsibility for their sound, not just their playing. I know it sucks, but it's true. Besides... you're in a bar, it's not a concert. How are people going to mingle, hang out, meet people, pick up or whatever they are there to do if they're constantly afraid their heads are going to explode (let alone being able to hear one another talk)???

There's a new place I just heard about and it's supposedly a showcase venue. All ages shows, that kind of thing. Underground something. Anyway, I have yet to go and find out what their sound is like, but so far, most—but not all—have been quite horrible. Maybe they're big enough to have a board at the back... that would be nice for a change.

I understand that without separate monitors it's hard to hear yourself and work with the band, but that's the life of a bar band man. You're never going to play the ideal situation in a pub. Step up, and try not to suck. When my mind is comparing you to Douglas Adams' description of Disaster Area it's time to turn down the volume a little bit. It's not the Loudness Wars, you're not trying to drown out the bar down the street, you're trying to offer a little entertainment in a fairly intimate atmosphere (i.e. close proximity to the audience). I almost wanted to turn them down myself, or accidently step on the power bar.

ARGH

3:26AM - Canadian Politics

With a vote of non-confidence and the possibility of yet another election I thought I'd comment on our stupid system. Now most Americans seem to think that they understand our clusterfuck election process but I think that maybe they are mislead by apparent similarities.

First of all, we don't get to vote for our political leaders, that's done within the party. They vote on a leader and the masses get no say in who leads the parties. All we get to vote for is our local representative. If, for example, I like what Anthony Rota does for Nipissing but think that Michael Ignatieff is the worst candidate for PM in history my voting hands are tied. A vote for the guy who's been working hard in my community is also a vote for the guy I may not want as PM. If, on the other hand I really (for some reason) think Jack Layton is the best PM material ever churned out then the only way I get to vote for him is to vote for a flown-in candidate who doesn't even live within 200km of my town. (Both NDP and Green fielded flown-in candidates last election). How can I feel confident that this person, who doesn't and has never lived here, has our best interests as a priority? Even worse, if I really felt that my vote should go to one of the other registered parties in this great nation, I'm not allowed to vote for them unless they happen to field a candidate in my riding. No write in votes, no options. Out of nineteen parties I only had the option of voting for one of four. You see, we vote for representatives, not parties and yet our elections are counted based on parties.

Let's explore this further. Imagine we only had four parties and five ridings (as opposed to nineteen parties and 308 seats). Look at the table below (in percentages of votes).

	1	2	3	4	5	TOTAL
Liberal	15	4	36	5	40	20
Conservative	20	80	25	10	35	34
NDP	40	10	34	15	21	24
Green	25	6	5	70	4	22

Now, which party won this election? If you said the Conservatives then you'd be wrong. Though the popular vote might place the Liberals last in this election because they won the 3rd and 5th seats they are the winners of the election and get to form a government (though a "minority government"). If the numbers were a little different they could have a majority government and still not have the most votes. (I used these numbers to show how the "least popular" party can still win the election.) Popular vote is meaningless in our political system other than as an oddity. (Jean Cretien 3rd term saw the Liberals with both a majority government AND the popular vote, not a common occurance at all.)

The problem is that this is very difficult to explain to non-Canadians (and even many of us don't quite understand it) because we think of "democracy" as meaning that we get to vote for our leaders and the majority rules. In Canada neither of these two things are true. I cannot vote for the leader, neither of the province nor the country, and the popular vote doesn't mean that party will be in power. By US standards the Liberals would have come in last in my example and yet they would be the clear winners according to Canadian Politics.

So here's my problem. I take my vote very seriously, yet I have no clear way to make it meaningful. As I pointed out above, a vote for the local candidate is a vote for the party and, therefor, the leader. If I cannot support both of those individuals, if I do not agree with their platform and their politics, then how can I support them by making my mark on a ballot? I'm literally saying that I endorse these two individuals, that I support them and their work. I haven't seen anyone I'd support on that level since Cretien left politics.

And that's the national problem right now. Rick Mercer reported that he spoke to a man out East who wouldn't even throw a rope to any of the current political leaders if they were drowning let alone vote for them giving his endorsement. It's not even apathy (which affects many of us) we just think our political leaders are all just as useless as the next guy. Nobody inspires me anymore. I don't feel any respect for them, any feeling of trust in a leader. I can't imagine being a soldier and thinking "one of these knobs will be our leader".

Basically, that's what's fucked about Canadian Politics. We don't vote for leaders, the majority vote is basically meaningless and none of the party leaders are worth throwing a rope to if they were drowning. I wonder if I can get some kind of "Bob" Dobbs for Prime Minister campaign going... because seriously, a smiling, pipe smoking piece of clip art is just as good, if not better, than what's on the ballot now.

1:34PM - I Hate Drugs

Fuck I hate pot. I know that's not a very popular opinion right now but like I give a shit. Politically, I don't care if you can buy it at the 7/11, I just won't be hanging out there.

The problem is that it really does make people dumber. I have enough difficulty dealing with people and I hate the meds that I'm on which already make me feel mentally fuzzy by comparison. I don't need them becoming too dumb to breathe while I'm trying to hang out with them. Don't get me wrong, the people I'm talking to are all interesting enough when sober. I quite like some of them in fact. But add copius amounts of alcohol and pot and I get so bored I want to put a drill through my hand just so that SOMETHING is happening.

And it's not just the alcohol. As annoying as that is, most of them maintain some level of conversational skill while drinking. I prefer them sober, to a person, but can usually tolorate them drunk. Add a little pot into the mix and most of them are good for caloric value only. A point comes when talking to a tree or a brick wall is more rewarding. What I don't understand is WHY anyone would purposefully do that to themselves. Seriously, what's wrong with people?

Once in a while someone will ask me if I sell my medication. I don't understand. Why would anyone WANT my meds. I hate them, loathe them, and would give them up in a moment if someone could offer me better pain management. I'm told that, because I have pain I metabolise them differently and, so, don't get the 'high' that they're after. OK... and what's so great about being high anyway? Seriously, the greatest high I've ever experienced came from certain meditation techniques and the bonus was that I remained in control.

Seriously, I had three people tell me how great Pot was at one of our local games nights. How I really should try it and how great it is to smoke up. Wow. And after sitting around, time after time, watching people get dumber than dirt I can't figure out why I'm not tempted to partake. It's almost to the point that if I don't talk to them by 2pm I'm shit out of luck because that's when the beer starts flowing and soon after, the pot. I can't count the number of times we were going to go out and by the time I was ready nobody could even stand.

Now don't misunderstand me, it's not the people I have issue with. Like I said, if I can get them sober I quite enjoy my time with them. It's this tendancy towards self obliteration that I find so horrifically boring. They can't even play poker while honouring chip denominations because they can't think, it's too hard, they're too baked, roasted or whatever term is 'cool' nowadays.

It's sad, and lonely, but even with people to hang out with I often just go inside and sit by myself.

2:48AM - Rebuilding

Over the last few months I have been making the effort to rebuild. When Astarte died I hit a new bottom below any I'd known before and some people seem to have been more interested in tearing down than building up. It's sad, but it's true.

I've been making the effort to go out, to meet people, to build a new life. I seem to be the only one who hasn't. Everyone else who was involved in the Ordeal has moved on in some way. I'm still stuck. On top of the Asperger's I'm also dealing with a lot of constant reinforcement as to how I can't have friends, how everything I say requires damage control, how I'm too disfunctional to function. Oddly enough, there was a child psychologist who once predicted that I'd never be able to function in normal society, but I doubt she meant that I'd never make any friends either.

The thing is, I do often feel very useless. Pain, limitations, medication, etc... and, of course, the disabilities. I see how that's affected everyone around me and how it's hurt them and their lives in some way or another. It's very hard, and not having access to good mental health care has made it worse. Watching shows like House and Grey's Anatomy somewhat bother me in that the characters there are getting help, some with similar issues as my own.

I had a real problem with the failure to acquire mental health care here. I've been turned away 4 times from different places and doctors. I thought it reflected on me, that somehow I didn't deserve help. Then I met someone who works in the field and they have a very low opinion of the people I have seen and the quality of the professionals in this town. Basically, they don't want to talk to smart people. And I may have offended one of them by saying that I hated the way the drugs made me feel and have no use for drug addicts. He got very hostile after that and said that most people LIKE feeling 'fuzzy and dumb' as I'd put it. I can guess that maybe he dips into the pharmacy now and then.

But being told that the quality of the doctors here is much lower than elsewhere, especially in this specific field, helped somewhat. It's good to know that they were more afraid of my figuring out they were incompetent than me being unworthy on some level. Not that it mattered as even they said that I'd be better off in a large city with better facilities.

Becoming disabled is hard though. It's not a walk in the park. S was telling me that she has a friend with MS who expresses many of the same feelings as I. I suppose it's a grieving process all on its own, and is different when you're griving yourself and not someone else (though I have enough of that in the last few years as well.

Watching Grey's though I realised something. I've related to Dr. Hunt ever since he came on the show. He's a war PTSD, but from what I've read, the trauma is very similar since it has to do with death. In the recent episode he had to begin talking about his ordeal. I've talked a lot about mine. I don't like doing it, but I have written about it in the past and talked to people about it on and off. But something nagged in the back of my head... something about how they were talking in the show struck me.

Yes, I've talked about my ordeal. I've talked about my breathing, my death, my relocation, my AVN, etc... but every time I do so it's always a very clinical examination. It's the facts, the 'reality', the Left Brain analysis, the timeline of events. It's a tragic story that happened to someone else. And what's worse is that I've never felt that I could talk about it any other way. After all, the person I'm talking to either experienced some aspect of it and is traumatised themselves or is a stranger who doesn't deserve to have this kind of emotional trainwreck loaded upon their shoulders. I suppose that's what therapists are for, but I've already discussed the availability of good therapy above.

The one thing that they tried to address which didn't come across very clearly, was the fear. The absolute terror involved in opening up on that level. The feeling that there is nowhere in the whole world that you feel safe in the first place.

A few of us were talking about safety, abuse, and PTSD the other day and I realised most of my life has gone by since the last time I really felt safe and secure. Perhaps that's why I experience such intense homesickness, because there was a time that I associated home with safety, that I trusted that I could sleep securely, peacefully and really rest. I can't clearly recall good restful sleep, it's more of a nostaligia than anything else.

The fear is there all of the time. Every day I'm afraid something will happen, that I'll react or my things will be taken away or I'll be stuck without transportation or disability will cut me off or a thousand, thousand things. I go out. I go to the bar. I go out of my comfort zone, such as it is. It's very hard, but I do it in the hope that I can somehow have a life. I work very hard to be "highly functioning" but it's never 'normal' and I'm always aware of that distance.

How do you feel safe again? How do you feel safe when you could simply suffocate in your sleep? How do you feel safe when the doubts, the pain, the meds, and the negative programs are all teaming up to assail you in the wee hours of the night? I feel worse after about 11pm, can't sleep, can't relax. That's about when I crashed at OGH and the rest of the night was a new kind of hell. One that, in many ways, has abated somewhat but never gone away.

Alone I wrestle with my demons until dawn, and only then can I relax enough to get a few hours of fitful sleep. It's not a situation that will change any time soon, but at least I have some analysis and maybe one day I'll be ready to make a start and have an environment where that's possible because, when I look back, there are repeated incidents that have worked to destroy safety, security, peace, and each one, a brick in the wall.

7:48AM - Odin's Waiting for Me...

A really intense experience. After a harsh night (once I got home anyway) I was feeling really lonely and crappy so I went for a walk at dawn. On my headphones Manowar's Gods of War. Coming down Ursula I'm grooving to 'Sleipnir'. As I hear this:

"CARRY WE WHO DIE IN BATTLE
OVER LAND AND SEA
ACROSS THE RAINBOW BRIDGE TO VALHALLA
ODIN’S WAITING FOR ME "

I look up and on a lamp post I see two ravens. They watch me as I walk past and then fly off towards the rising sun. At that moment I felt that I really do matter in the universe, that the Gods are watching out for me on some level. Filled with a sense of love and belonging it was all I could manage not to cry right there. Instead I turned to the rising sun which shone unimpeded down Justin Street and did my Morning Adoration.

It's been a while since I've been sent such a clear indication of contact with the Gods. Usually it's the Great Goddess that sends me a sign and it is to Her that I normally pray. Regardless, I have always had a close kinship with Odin as Wotton is a derivation of Wotan the Germanic name for Odin as well as having only one good eye. Dawn is also the time of the God or the Masculine Principle/Force, the time when the Male Divine force is strongest so it makes sense that the contact would be masculine.

Sometimes a little push to say "yes, you are loved and watched over" is very helpful. I hope that this manifests in greater confidence and power. It's been a VERY long time since I felt the mantle of the Priest upon my shoulders. Some of that confidence and power returning would be a great blessing.

Lately I've been doing things for ME and worrying less and less about how everyone else perceives me. I'm working to overcome my shyness, my introversion, my feeling that I'm always at fault for everything. People CAN like me and I CAN have friends regardless of what I've been told in the past. And no matter what has happened, no matter how broken my body and spirit may be, I do deserve to enjoy life and I deserve a place in the universe.

I think that making the effort to fill my space with positive, outgoing people is starting to pay off. It's wonderful to sit and talk to someone who is playful, happy, positive and really, honestly, enjoying themselves. Last night, in fact, one of the waitresses told me that I was a good person. I'm not certain exactly why, but she did and I think I need more and more of that in my sphere.

I'm going to try to stop appologising for everything. I'm going to try to take more control of my life. And I'm going to call people on shit when they give me shit. There's a situation right now, in fact, that I've been waffling on. I'm not going to anymore. I deserve answers. I deserve to be treated better than I am. I deserve to know what the FUCK is going on. I deserve to know EXACTLY what I'm accused of, why that person acts the way they do, I deserve to confront them and I deserve answers. I deserve to be treated well, because, though I may have forgotten, I am a Priest of the Gods, belovéd of the Goddess and a child of the Limitless Light. What did Dion Fortune say, something like "He was regal, beyond any royalty of earth. He was much more... he was an Initiate."

11:55AM - True Blood and tolorance?

[i]True Blood[/i] is an HBO show about the small town of Bon Temps in Louisiana and their dealings with vampires. Since the development of a product called "True Blood" vampires no longer have to feed on real blood. It even comes in different flavours (such as A+ and B-). This has resulted in the entire vampire community coming "out of the coffin" and into human society. Understandably there are a lot of hard feelings on both sides over the centuries of the human/vampire relationship of predator and prey. Set in the American South many of the conflicts mirror those of Black racisim, slavery and the struggle blacks had in integrating into society post slavery. One black character even says "Just because racism isn't the hot topic it used to be doesn't mean it don't exist."

Essentially the message of the show is to not judge a book by its cover. Many vampires quite like human society and several, like the main character Bill Compten, have decided to "mainstream" and live like "normal" people. A number even have human lovers mirroring the primary relationship of the show. Basically the whole show is like a huge essay against ignorance, intolerance and prejudice. At least until Season 2 Episode 7.

In this episode, entitled "Release Me", Sam is given information on the true identity of Maryanne. She's God, or the closest we'll ever get to one. She's Holly, Lillith, Isis, Gaia. She's also a Maenad, the female deciple of Dionysus. She then connects Dionysus to The Horned God and from there to Satan and the Devil of the Christian Pantheon. Dionysus, Satan, etc... are all manifestations of the same energy force in the universe. So basically Maryanne is an immortal handmaiden to Satan who apparently encompasses all fertility Gods and Goddesses.

It's as though Satan has some kind of exclusive copyright on horns. The crescent moon, which many cultures associated with the horns and antlers on the animals that they ate (goats, cows, deer, even sheep) and thus with fertility (which is a very good thing in an agricultural society) must also be Satan. Horned Isis? Satan. The God of the Hunt? Satan. At least Lillith was considered a demon by tradition so it might be reasonable to excuse that connection based on cursory research. Regardless, this association pisses me off.

Satan (not the Jewish Satan which is an internal urge or "Evil Inclination" which gives us Free Will) in the Christian Pantheon is the evolution of the Zoroastrian Angra Manu. In Zoroastrianism, and later Christianity and thus Islam, there are two Gods, one Good and one Evil in eternal conflict. (Psst, don't tell them that they have two Gods though... they don't see it that way.) The point is that the evolution of an adversary to the Divine comes through a specific lineage of religion. This association of Evil with Horns is a Christian belief. In essence they are calling all pre-Christian peoples Satanists.

Considering how common reconstrucionist Paganism is nowadays this kind of ignorance is outright offensive to thousands of people. Modern Witchcraft, especially Gardnarian and Alexandrian, honour the Horned God as the Masculine Divine connected with the male sexual power and life-force. Not only are they calling these manifestations of the Masculine Divine evil, but they are also saying that all Feminine Divine are subject to the Masculine. Isis, Gaia, Lillith, etc... are all equal to the Handmaidens of Dionysus, who is Satan.

Now maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal. Maybe you're thinking, "meh, it's a TV show why care about theology?" The simple answer is that those of us who worship the Great Goddess in all of Her forms, those who see the Divine manifest in thousands of ways, shapes and forms, have fought a long time to dissociate our view of the Divine from the Christian Devil; an association which was done on purpose to villify others during the Roman expansion after the adoption of Christianity. The reason their Satan has horns is because they wanted to paint the Native British as being controlled by the powers of Evil thus justifying their "liberation" of the Pagan peoples.

The show seems to be trying to promote understanding and an enlightened approach to culture and race. They even show an hatemongering Christian sect and hold them up as an example of intolorance and ignorance. So why are they then doing the same thing themselves when it comes to non-Christian religion? How can they justify calling all Pagan and Native religion "Satanic"? They are promoting exactly what they claim to be fighting and that kind of hypocrisy pisses me off. I really hope that they manage to address this issue in the story because it's hard enough being a Non-Christian and fighting ignorance and intolorance without having the mass media calling you a Satanist. Most Pagans and Wiccans don't even BELIEVE in Satan to begin with. I want to take the writers and slap them in the head for being dumbasses. But then, they're just like most Christian Sects... preach love and forgiveness but practice hate and ignorance. In this case preach tolorance and understanding but practice ignorance and prejudice.

5:08AM - When I was young....

You always hear that from people... "When I was young music was SO much better than it is now." Or whatever. Just curmudgeonism right? Right?

Well over the last few years I've been thinking this specifically about music. It's not just that most music I hear coming out of North America is shit and I have to go overseas to hear anything worth listening to, but that the quality seems to be much lower than the music to which I used to listen. Since the digital revolution I tend to download music rather than buy the CD and have attributed this decline in quality to the digital compression of MP3. I simply assumed that I was taking a quality hit for the cheaper and more convenient format. Even though older CDs that I've ripped didn't have this problem I simply figured that it was whatever software or whatever. I blamed the MP3 format.

Then I was told about the Loudness Wars.

It's not my imagination, it's not the MP3 format, it's not software or even nostalgia. No my friends, it's the recording industry actually making an inferior product.

Here's how it works. Companies have decided that louder is better so when they do the final mixdown for the master CD they crank the volume as high as possible. The only way to do this is to compress the dynamic range and crank everything to eleven cutting the tops off of all of the sound peaks.

The practical upshot is that a fair portion of the recorded sound is simply cropped and lost because it's beyond the possible recording threshold. This results in a flat sounding recording. So what if it's pressed louder, we control the volume, why not give us the full sound that the artists recorded? It's the audio equivilent of making a painting and then removing all of the subtlety and slurring the colours together. Nothing pops out, nothing is subdued, everything is the same.

The loss of quality that I'd been hearing was occuring IN THE STUDIO during final mixdown. New albums simply DON'T have the dynamic range or subtlety of previous recordings, it's just not there. To make matters worse this seems to be the trend for 'remastered' CDs as well. They'll take their perfectly good old CD, compress out all of the dynamic range and crank it until the peaks are cut. Basically they've damaged the music and expect you to buy the CD a second time.

A visual example of what is happening can be seen at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Gmex_4hreQ
A good description is available at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loudness_war

So yeah, music did sound better when I was younger, but not because I'm nostalgic for the good old days, but literally because the recording industry are a bunch of idiots.
---------------------
Addendum: Apparently the Loudness War has started to collect casualties. The new Metallica album is so bad, suffers from so much digital clipping and loss of dynamic range that people are actually petitioning to have it remastered. What's utterly mindboggling is that the Guitar Hero III download version of the songs are BETTER than the CD and are actually mastered properly leaving only the highest of peaks hitting the 0db mark rather than averaging the entire waveform at -2db. It's pretty bad when your music is so badly mastered that it sounds better on a video game than on your CD.

5:11AM - Changes

About a week ago I was out walking and met up with a lady who was walking her dog. She started a conversation because she felt that there was something that she had to tell me. Kind of a new-age type person she seemed harmless enough, even if somewhat intoxicated (which on a long-weekend is not uncommon). We talked about my disability (since I had my cane) and my pentacle etc... eventually she asked me why I was emotionally shut down.

Eventually she told me that the reason I can't breathe, the reason my bones are rotting away is because I don't express my feelings. By bottling everything up and pressing them down, by being afraid to express myself freely, I've created a dis-ease in my system and it is because of this that my body has begun to fail so early. I don't know if the relationship between a and b is correct, but she was very accurate in terms of my emotional state.

In fact, the only 'person' I really ever talked to unconditionally was Astarte because a cat loves you no matter what you are feeling. Now that she's gone I have to wonder about this 'message' concerning my emotional self. It's like I've become so locked into Hod that there's no connection to Netzach. Oddly enough, the 17th path which joins those two sephirah is key 16: The Tower. I have to break down a wall of emotional isolation and fear and find ways of expressing myself without fear of reprisal, judgement or retribution.

This is not easy, especially when most people either don't want to hear about your feeling or don't care or are even antagonistic towards such expression. It's not easy when one has become used to any expression being received negatively and have fallen into the habit of not expressing one's own feelings. It's just a hard thing to do.

Expressing one's feelings doesn't mean that you don't care about someone else's feelings, it just means that you are feeling the way you are feeling. It's something I had a glimmer of a year or so ago but didn't quite grasp: That feelings are feelings, not logical ideas, and they are not bad or wrong, they simply ARE. There's no point beating yourself up over having feelings because all you're doing is beating up your own soul and harming yourself. It is certainly important to examine feelings, explore them, figure them out, etc... but you cannot judge them as bad or evil or whatever. Perhaps some of them are messages from the subconscious trying to explain something that we don't quite understand. Perhaps some are just our way of understanding the universe. Who knows.

The reality is, though, that I have been doing this for a long time. I have buried as much of my emotional self as possible over the years. I've tried to prevent myself from expressing all sorts of emotions and feelings. Except for a few moments of grief here and there, I've bottled up almost everything. I've even become self-destructive rather than admit to or allow myself to feel freely certain feelings and emotions. Perhaps that self-destructive behaviour has found an expression first in my allergies and then in my dying bones.

Sometimes I feel that if I were to let myself feel freely it would be like letting of a nuclear bomb in a closet. I'd be overwhelmed and lose myself in the explosion. Maybe that's not a bad thing though considering the explosion in the afore mentioned Key. Maybe that's been part of my feeling that I'm not connected to myself, that I'm not real or that somehow my Self has been lost. Maybe that explosion is what it will take for me to find myself again and not feel so lost.

I don't know what it will be though. I don't know how to express myself anymore. I don't know how to overcome the fear of retribution, reprisal, etc... and just let it out. I don't know how those steps will be taken and it's a somewhat scary process. It's like I'm looking at being 18~19 again and hugging trees and dancing naked around the fire in a wild unstructured animalistic frenzy. I remember it, vaguely, in my mind. I remember how it felt but I have no idea how to get back there. Obviously the next part of the journey begins and it's deep into unfamiliar territory.

5:29AM - Broken

I've been working through a lot of stuff over the last few months and I've realised that there is a specific point at which my life was broken. I've read that when this happens one cannot continue to move forward and becomes stuck in some way. I can nail it down to being assaulted by J. It was at that point that I no longer felt safe at home and had to leave because nobody would listen, nobody would believe me even though there was a witness. Only now am I starting to repair my relationship with the friend who was there at the time because right after the incident we began to drift apart.

I've been transcribing some of my dreams into a different book and have found that almost every one of them takes place at the house on Harmony Rd. The house I always refer to as "Home". In almost every dream I am a student at Eastdale. Sometimes I stress because I can't remember my schedule and I know that I've neglected my homework. I can't find my locker and I can't find my notes for class. Often I'm stressing out because I haven't got the lawns mowed at Home and the gardens have been neglected.

Most of the time I'm living in the house but occasionally I'm trying to sneak in past the people who are now living there. I'm looking for something that I left behind in these cases or just trying to get back to a safe place. Sometimes I just want to lock myself in my bedroom and wait for everything to stop hurting.

When I dream that I'm living in the house it's always in a number of different situations. Sometimes I'm at Home with my Mom and brother living there. Sometimes it's just me, sometimes it's M and the boys. Sometimes I'm by myself with housemates even. Regardless, it is the same Home I grew up in, the same one I cared for, where I tended the gardens, cleaned the gutters, learned meditation, music and magic. The only real Home I've ever known.

On some level I think M and others have seen this break. I know M has tried on several occasions to get me to do some kind of ritual to become a "man" or whatever that means. Complained that I'm not as grown up or mature or aware as she thought I should be (though some is the Asperger's). But I think that the growing up thing has to do with the break. Something fucked up in my natural life-cycle and from that point nothing worked properly. It was so bad that my own body tried to kill itself in order to redress the imbalance, a possible attempt to 'reset' the life cycle. It's hard to conceptualise but psychologically I'm still in that house and have never really left.

Yesterday I had a perfect moment of clear memory. Full sensory memory of a perfect moment one summer afternoon in the yard. The sound of the wind in the trees and the cicadas screeching, the smell of the yard, the maple trees and the feel of the wind and sun on my skin. A perfectly remembered moment. It made me cry.

Since I died and had to move even further from the place of my birth I've lost almost everyone I ever loved or cared about. They've moved on in one way or another. Some living, too many dead, and too few still in any sort of contact. Little C and A down the road are the only ones left in person. Mom has always tried to be there, but there is not here. Still I'm happy for the Ottawa trips now because it means that I get to see her twice a year which I didn't get to do before because of that same J mentioned above. A few times a year I might see old friends from elsewhere but those visits are very rare and though I appreciate them when they are here, they all have their own lives to live when they are not. They've moved on in the world and are living their lives.

That's the reality I have to accept. Everyone has moved on, they are living their lives, they are moving forward and except for three of those people, those lives don't include me in any but the most cursory way. I'm sad that most of my family that's still alive won't speak to me. I recognize, though, that they too have to live their lives and move forward. The hard part is that I've been stuck so long, I don't even know how anymore.

I have to move forward. I have to get on with my life. I don't entirely know how to do that and it feels like swimming against the current. Something is broken and even what should be deep relationships feel shallow and fragile, like each is a delicate hand-blown figurine teetering on a shelf. Nothing feels solid, nothing feels safe, nothing feels secure. And yet I'm trying to move forward, I'm trying to get on with my life because I've realised that I've been left behind by everyone else. I'm making the effort. I'm going to clubs and hanging out with the neighbours. I'm trying to integrate in some way. I know that not all of these people will become friends, but I hope that some will. How strong or deep a friendship, that I don't know. Still I think it's a step in the right direction. It's trying, it's an attempt, it's a few strokes against the current.

But no matter what I do, deep down I just want to go Home. I just want to play guitar with the band, hang out with the guys, go to the occasional party, meditate in the back yard to the rising sun and everything else that went with that life so long ago. I even occasionally buy the same shampoo my mom used to get just for the smell. And sometimes when the wind comes through the bedroom window JUST right I can close my eyes and imagine that I'm safe at Home again. But it's all gone, and I'm stuck, and I know that no matter what I do, it's not the life I wanted, it's not the life I loved, it's not the life I had planned. I don't know how to 'cope' with that, I don't know how to cope with much to be honest.

I lost my sense of security, my sense of Home, my sense of place in the universe and now I'm trying to move forward into the void, into uncharted territory wishing that I had my teenage body to back me up as I try to live in what is really quite a frightening and uncertain world. I have to try to discard all of the negative reinforcement I've had over the years, discard the failures and apparant failures and try to do things that I haven't done since I was in highschool. I have to try to make new friends from scratch, meet a whole network of new people and build something like a life.

It's like trying to climb a mountain with a broken leg when you know nothing about mountaineering. Still, I'm trying and hopefully that counts for something.

3:29AM - Best Beltane in Years!

Yep I went out. I went to The Fraser and it was awesome. People were really accepting of me. Women thought I was hot and danced with me... they asked me. Guys came up and said things like "Every time I look at you I want to be you" and "Dude, what's the mystery, you're so fucking cool" and "You're the most interesting person here." The ladies wanted to play with my hair and dance, dance, dance. I haven't held this many women since a Pagan hugfest after circle. It was wonderful.

The band was live. They played classic rock and it was pretty good stuff. I was really impressed. The music was a bit too loud but in the true tradition of Beltane I listened to live music and danced (though not around a fire). It's too cold for dancing around a fire anyway.

I didn't manage to perform the most worshipful aspect of the holiday but that's not a huge disappointment considering how much fun I had.

It was terrific. People were not afraid of me, rather they were interested. They thought I was really cool. They liked me. I was liked. I was accepted. And though I was obviously different, they embraced rather than rejected that difference. Sure, I had to drink coke and water all night so that I could drive, but that was fine by me. And I couldn't get totally wild on the dance-floor because I had my cane but that didn't matter to them either.

It was the best night I've had in, I don't even know how long. I need more of those. I need more of that in my life. I really feel like I've missed out on so much over this last decade. I can't wait to get out again.

I did have a wee bit of a reaction but a short shot (~10u) and some reactine and I was back at the dance floor.

8:47PM - "RAPE" Law

Lately I've grown tired of this outcry against the so-called "Rape Law" in Afghanistan. People protest, cryout, and bitch about the new law in Afghanastan dealing with Shiite Muslim's family law. I have a number of issues with this.

First of all it may have been a bad idea for us to overlook that the Constitution of Afghanistan states that all laws are subject to the Q'ran which supercedes all other laws. Maybe we don't recognise that the Christian Bible also says that a woman may not refuse her husband (CorI. 7:1-9. Sure it also says that a man cannot refuse his wife but we all know which of them is most likely to have the higher sex drive. The Catholic Church dictated that it was a woman's DUTY to give her husband sex whenever he desired.

Secondly we forget that only a few decades ago it was IMPOSSIBLE for a man to rape his wife. Any sex between spouses could NOT be identified as rape. With the current uproar about Afghanistan it's very difficult to find a site that nails down this particular date. Possible in the 80's.

Thirdly, this law was hashed out by a Democratic government through a 3 year process which, honestly, is more democratic than the war in Iraq or the new Canadian tax rates. Do we wish to impose Democracy on other countries only to censure what they are allowed to vote on?

And lastly we keep looking at this with our ethnocentric eyes and miss the fact that this law is a compromise which, on one hand, takes some rights away from Shiite men and gives some rights to the woman that she's never had before.

We need to recognize that this law gives Shiite women more power than they have ever had over their own bodies. They are ALLOWED to deny their husband 3/4 nights. They are ALLOWED to leave the house without direct permission under a number of circumstances. She is also allowed to refuse sex for reasons of health and well-being. NONE of these were allowed before. If she was in pain or menstruating she didn't have the legal right to refuse her husband before. Now she can and that's a step FORWARD.

People keep telling me that it's barbaric... well we are only "better" than them by a few years, not by centuries. Yes, it is backwards to our way of thinking but the law isn't ours. It's in a place that we don't understand. It's in a place that we CAN'T understand. Why is it so hard to see that this IS progressive and liberal by comparison? When this law has become status quo then the law can be looked at again, and changed again, but devout Muslim Shiite men are not going to accept a huge deviation from the way they have lived for centuries imposed upon them overnight. Civil war is the usual response to such an imposition.

Basically, if we want to deny them the rights to make their own laws, to vote on their own laws and to soverignty then we need to invade them and impose our morals, laws and ideologies upon them. It's nice for our Christian Nations to say "Yeah, it says a woman can't refuse her husband, but so does our book and we don't care. Hell we even eat pork even though the Bible says not to..." and they will justifiably call us immoral (since Christianity defines the Bible as Morality) and blow us up.

If we wanted to protest, bitch, get on the pundit circuit and everything else then the time to do that was DURING the Democratic process. The time to protest and be heard was during the 3 years that they were drafting the law and hashing it out. Now we can say that we don't like it, that we don't agree or that we don't understand... but there's sweet fuck all we can do OTHER than declare war on Afghanistan and "liberate" their women. Hell we may have to totally wipe out the Shiite people through a genocidal war on a minority. Why not?

Basically we either say that we respect Islam, the Q'ran, freedom of religion, and Democracy and STFU about it OR we don't respect those things, invade the country and force them to conform and convert to our social conventions, laws and morality. It's one or the other people. We either try to approach it with understanding and respect or we nuke 'em till they glow then shoot 'em in the dark. Anything else makes us hipocrites.

Personally I think the whole thing is a redirect to stop us from thinking about how badly we've fucked over our whole North American society and managed to let the Americans once again flush the economy down the toilet.

---

An addendum: I realised why I'm having so much trouble with my discussions. I see them using the words "Demand" and "Expect" when referring to a man's four day right where the other people I'm talking to ONLY see the word "Rape". I see the codicil "that it cause no harm to either party" where others don't seem to understand that this consititutes a legal refusal of sex. Also that the law is that he may share her company, so if sex is out then they can do other things to enjoy each other. The Western Media has done a wonderful job with the title "Rape Law" and used a powerful word to obscure the entire situation.

3:51AM - Star Wars Clone Wars

I can't believe that this has been released in the 21st century. "This animated micro-series... captures George Lucas' vision in a dynamic animated style that is a visual delight for all ages." from the back cover is a LIE. Do not believe it. It is the worst animation I've ever seen. Old Warner Brother's cartoons were better animated. Most of the artwork is of a quality that I could do myself even with my surgically damaged arms and being blind in one eye. In fact, I'd be embarassed to admit that I'd drawn something like this. I've seen better fan art and even better fan-films than this.

Let's set aside the eye-burning animation and artwork for a moment. Canon is irrelvant. I've never known someone that could stick a lightsabre in someone and then get thrown away while the sabre STAYED stuck in them. The rules of the lightbre are clear that it would either shut off or fall through the person it was stuck into. Also, I'm pretty certain that the established canon is that there is more to a lightsabre than a single crystal making up 85% of the unit. There are many other problems as well. It's as though nobody bothered to read or study any of the universe they were writing within.

The voice acting actually reaches passable during the times when it's not horrible. Sometimes they make the voices stupidly silly sounding. And why the hell do droids say "Roger Roger"? Is it some kind of worship of ancient Jar Jar?

Of course nobody needs to mention little things like physics. The guns that the troopers use recoil like AK47's but are firing medium density energy bolts. (I say medium because any energy bolt creating that much recoil is not going to bounce off of a droid causing minimal damage... it's going through the building). Science Fiction tends to agree that making a jump to light speed within an atmosphere is a bad idea. So why not have a troop transport lock on to co-ordinates and jump to FTL after clearing the ground by a few meters?

I hate to say it, but Trey Parker and Matt Stone could have made a better Star Wars animated series using construction paper. I may have to watch Hellsing and Black Lagoon to wash the bad taste out of my brain.

12:16AM - Project: Observation

OK, so Boston Pizza and Kelsy's are both totally dead Friday nights. Nothing going on. Maybe a dozen people in BP, and by midnight maybe 5. Kelsey's had NOBODY in it so I didn't bother staying.

So basically I don't see too many social opportunities within walking distance. Maybe I'll have to drive somewhere and not drink. Ah well. It's an effort and that's what's important on this experiment.

5:21PM - Computer is alive

So, thanks to Con I have a working desktop again. It's amazing how the technology has changed. When I bought my laptop the kind of power currently sitting on my desk was unheard of outside of large servers, and even then, overall processing may have been less.

Currently running at 2781Mhz with 2gb RAM and a new Radeon HD 2400 Pro I've got more power on my desk than ever before. I haven't bought time on WoW yet but I plan to when my money comes in. It will be amazing to play without it generating headaches from that GeForce4mx.

I'm very happy to be able to watch shows that I couldn't run before, and to have access to my many projects that I need to get back to work on. YAY!

1:29PM - White Day and Computer Woes...

OK, so I wished a lot of people a happy white day. I'll explain it since some didn't get it.

It's a Japanese holiday which is the opposite of their Valantine's day. On Valantines women give the men in their lives chocolates as appreciation. In general these are store-bought chocolates for friends, family, co-workers, etc... but a real hand-made chocolate may be created in order to represent a romantic attachment.

White Day is the opposite where men appreciate the women in their lives, usually having to return giving to those who gave to them on Valantine's. Common items are, of course, chocolate or candies, sometimes even white chocolate, etc... in a romantic relationship it may be something more expensive.

Yes, it was invented by a confectionary (candy company).
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This week my desktop computer died. I don't know what part went but it seems to have been one of the major components since I cannot even get to POST now. That means it's likely the main board or Processor. (I don't know if there's a PC speaker in there as I can't remember whether or not there were beep codes when it started normally. There are no beep codes now so it may be the BIOS or something.) Anyway, regardless of which part I can't replace only one now and need a new board, processor, RAM and Video Card. Mysha was kind enough to provide them but the processor is on back order.

This failure of the machince suprised me. I've been moving all of my projects etc... over to the desktop since it's the "new" machine compared to my Laptop. I think of it as "new" because I got it at the end of 2005 and put a new hard-drive, DVD burner, LCD monitor, Keyboard, etc... on it. But just because the hard-drive is only 3 years old doesn't mean that the rest of it is as young. When I looked at the parts and realised how old some of them were. The mainboard was made about 2001-2002 for example. I kept thinking of the whole thing as "newer" than my laptop.

Though I got my laptop around the same time, possibly a year later, I've replaced almost everything including the system board, LCD, Hard-drive, and even the system fan. Except for the keyboard and CD-RW drive the whole thing is newer than the base parts of my desktop. It's amazing how perception can affect you though.

Anyway, I'm anxiously awaiting my parts since I discovered that most of my periperals do NOT have win98 drivers and I can't use them with my laptop. :(

7:40PM - Stupid Drugs

I'm not a big fan of the narcotics they use as my main pain control. Recently the pharmacy gave me 4x the dosage and I reasoned that this was safer than cold-turkey withdrawl over 3 days. yay.

There is a sensation of being trapped in your own mind. That you cannot escape, you cannot think properly. A prisoner. It's no wonder I like to de-tox every few years just to get some semblence of lucidity. I wonder if there are better morphines. I vaguly remember something being clearer but it's gone now.