Headaches

Well, here is my camera.  The Canon XF100.  I won't say how much I paid, but you can easily look up the MSRP.  Just remember that I also had to purchase an expensive media card, and a VERY expensive warranty.

My headache comes from something I did not anticipate at all, and probably should have.  This camera may sit still for a while, eating up the warranty, because, apparently, not only do I need new, really expensive software, but my 3 year old, $1800 laptop computer may be unable to run any software I need.  Hence, I may need a new computer.  And not only do I need a new computer, but I need one that is pretty high in price.  One with all the higher amounts of memory, processors, cards, etc.

I thought at worst I would need new software, that I could have probably handled.  My computer is still working great, and it's not too far behind, right?  Even the real expensive stuff.  But a new computer too?  For those of you who don't know, I work with, trust, and am very familiar with Mac computers.  Hipster?  Not me.  Not a computer programmer and don't want to deal with viruses?  Bingo.

The really REALLY funny thing, I mean, I'm laughing so hard about it right now, is that I had considered purchasing a MacBook Pro when I got this one, but I was like, "pfffft.  What do I need a faster card and more of all that stuff for?  It's not like I'm going to be making movies on the thing!"

The place I take all my computer issues, accepts trade-ins, so that you don't feel absolutely horrible in situations like this.  Problem is, apparently my computer, once $1800, is now AT BEST, maybe worth $300 or $400.  And if you know anything about a brand new top of the line MacBook Pro and the latest video editing software, you'll know that, though it is a good sized chunk, it's not good enough.  Plus my current computer's battery is kind of lumpy.  What's that cost to replace, $200?  I wonder if they'll notice....

The moral of the story is, I probably will not be making too many movies in the immediate future (since I can't watch them anywhere but on the camera), and therefore I probably will not be entering this year's Film Festival challenge which you can read about here.  Which is sad because that was an exciting factor in my recent purchase of an expensive camcorder.

The good news is that I know how to use the thing fairly well already after only having it for a week.  The bad news is, when I look back on this blog in a few years, I might laugh at how naive I was in my fiscal estimate of starting my voyage into this most expensive of hobbies (in which few hobbyists turn professional).

I mean, unless any of you would like to donate $3000 dollars to my cause...... that would be swell.

The camera, I did my research, I thought hard about it, and it's a great camcorder.  Everything else?  Might have skipped my mind a little in all the camera thinking.

Reggie and the Full Effect

It's the name of a band that I liked when I was in jr. high.  For you Americans, that's grades 7, 8, and 9.  10 to 12 are high school for us.  They're not very good, and in fact, I don't know when the album I have was made (it's called "Promotional Copy", pretty creative), and I highly doubt they exist anymore.  They were kind of a punk rock group that usually featured a catchy keyboard riff, but not catchy enough I guess.

I remember my mom getting mad at me when she saw the CD at one point and realized that the first track is called "Bitches get Stitches"  It was just some audio of a guy getting shot by some other guy.  The whole album is a mixture of actual songs, weird joke songs, and weird things that don't make much sense.  I think they're from the East Coast of Canada, but all of this info is not important enough to look up, so don't bother.

I was watching a late night cartoon a long time ago called "Undergrads", which I recently started recording for the nostalgic factor on our PVR a few weeks ago.  It's pretty horrible.  It has it's moments like anything that makes it onto TV at any time slot, but not enough to watch except for the nostalgia factor (I'm going to start calling that the N-F)  On one episode, a certain song was featured, by this band, that sounded good at first (catchy), but now that I'm more than 13 years old, it has been grown out of.  The point is, just hearing a few seconds of it was enough for me to use the inter-web to find out the name of the song/band and by the album.  Remember when that was how you had to find music?  I am too young to remember any other way of finding music, and now there's youtube, so yeah... Remember?

But you know what the funny thing is?  I still like a whole bunch of the songs on that album!  Some of them are catchy, and they are pretty well produced, but honestly, the vocals are horrible, the keyboard/synth is way too simple, and some of the songs are really screamo.

Here is one of the joke songs... or at least I hope it's a joke...  when I was a camp counsellor all those years ago, and shouldn't have been listening to such heathen music, I coun-vinced my head counsellor that as a cabin we could pretend to preform this song, after carefully making sure there aren't any swear words (there aren't any, right?).  Needless to say, it was hilarious, and we were a big hit.

The moral of the story is that the music you listen to between the ages of 12 and 16 will change your life forever.  Not that any of you reading this are in that age range, or, arange, as I like to call it, but maybe keep this in mind when your 12-16 year old kids are listening to old Lady Gaga or Ke$ha, and try to push some actual good music on them, like Pinkerton or at least some Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Even though I quickly grew out of this band, I still like them, and can clearly see that the reasons I still like them, are the same reasons I like the music I like now.  My tastes, though primitive and misunderstood back then, were primarily the exact same tastes that I have now.  Just not well developed enough.  I didn't have enough experience finding good music, so I liked what I heard, you know?

It's like how if you're a few years older than me, you probably really like Fraggle Rock, or whatever the h@#$ that show is, cause I've certainly never seen it.  You love that show, cause you were a kid when you saw it.  If you saw it right now, after reading this, you'd be reminded of how you used to like it, and so, you would smile and realize that you still like it.  Me?  I grew up with Pee-Wee's Big Adventure and The Brave Little Toaster.  Both still good in my opinion.

I will always like the music and movies I heard/saw during those highly influential pimple-filled years of my life, and along with that, no music or movie I ever see/hear ever for the rest of my life will influence me more than those years, no matter how good they are.  It's quite an amazing fact to me.  Kind of like how you will always remember your first kiss, your first car, your first apartment....those years are the first appreciative years.... you never forget them.

Here's a movie that can't be beat in my mind for instance.  Notice how stupid it looks now.  I grew up with this, though since it was rated R, I probably shouldn't have...

Or who knows, maybe Reggie and The Full Effect area actually a really, really good band, and I'm just too hipster these days...

BONUS:  here's some footage of me starting a $200,000 Aston Martin...

... I got to drive it a little in case it's not clear...

"Yeah, I'll have two dozen please..." The Pros and Cons

Or "Things I Could Put on a Resume"

Cons

-I officially can't date 18-year-olds any more

-Only a thin spread of hair left

-Construction workers still won't respect me for another twenty years

-I can't (or at very least shouldn't) wear skate shoes anymore

-If I would have gone to school out of high school, I would have a masters degree right now

-The odds of me getting a wife, and by extension, kids in this life go down by another 7.2%

-I don't understand today's video games and will never be good at them

-I'm older than most bottles of scotch released from now on, but still don't know how to appreciate scotch very well

-This is the year I noticed one of my eyes doesn't open as wide as the other, thanks to a bee sting 3 years ago

-This could be the year I lose my last grandparent

-I'm still sarcastic far too often

-Still no closer to figuring out the meaning of life, the universe, and everything

Pros

-I'm one year away from being able to rent a sports car in North America

-I can finally grow a beard

-People will be able to accurately guess my age for a few years now

-The official year I stop growing, so stop asking

-I still have some hair

-I can still make an NCAA basketball team for one season

-I will still always be six years younger than Bryce Dallas Howard

-One year away from being able to throw out seven year old tax information

-Soon I'll be out of the "stupid, young, male" driver category

-I'm knee injury free

-I am (finally) able to be friendly and make friends with people in almost any social circumstance

-If I ever do get married, it will be with confidence and a healthy view of things, unlike if I had done so three or more years ago...yikes

-I've finally started to stand up for myself 

-I do not have any pets

-my credit is/should be very good

-If I owned I house, I could take care of it (except for financially of course)

-I am still entirely illegal drug free

-This is the start of several years in which my nephews and niece will think I'm cool and want to play with me

-I rarely hurt peoples' feelings anymore

-I still, and will always have at least a few good friends, and a good relationship with my family

An Affair to Remember

On June 18th, I participated in the 2011 Edmonton Underwear Affair.  A charitable run/walk in which participants raised money towards below the waist cancers, and also raised awareness by dressing up either in their underwear, or in underwear related costumes.

Here's this year's site.

Some of you know that I made an interesting costume for the occasion, and fewer still know that I took home the 'best male costume' prize!  Here is my getup.

It's made of nothing more than foam, glue, and felt, and the socks are from my childhood football team.  Go Bombers!

Here is one of the literally dozens of photos that were taken of me with other groups clamoring to be seen with the giant underpants

It was a pretty great day, especially thanks to my brother and another couple friends of mine who showed up to help me move around and get things done in this monstrosity.  My prize was a bag full of about $250 worth of boxers and underwear from the sponsor, Joe Boxer, of which probably one or two pairs will fit, seeing as how I am a large man, and not a medium man.  But I also got a sweet plaque, so it's all good.

Now onto the good part!

After days of debate and weighing the pros and cons, I decided not to do the actual 10km run whilst wearing the suit.  The clincher was the fact that it was already falling apart just from walking around in it all day.

So after already standing around and posing for photos for a couple hours at least, we then endured the costume contest.  As I have said, I won the best male costume award, BUT, there was also:

Best Female Costume

Best Superhero Costume

and
Best Team Costume

The last of which had about 15 teams entered, who all had to go on stage and strut their stuff, and then all had to get a vote to see who won.  The point I am coming to is that around this point, I was debating on going to the lavatory or not.  Basically, I had been standing around nervously for a few hours, and just before the run, I didn't have to go, but I had this sudden doubt of security in my bowels, if you know what I mean.  I then shrugged it off, however, saying to myself, "It's one hour.  Just one hour out of the whole day that I have to not go to the bathroom.  I will be fine."  Big mistake!  But we'll get back to that...

~~~

A few weeks before the run, I tried a 10km run solo, just to see if I could even do it.  It seemed ridiculously far when I typed my imagined route into Google Maps, but it turns out I had to run even farther!  About 30 streets and 8 avenues rectangular rounded out 10kms.  But, surprisingly to me, I hit only one or two small walls that day, had a great pace, and polished off the run in just over one hour.  About 1:05 I think.  I decided that my race day goal should be no less than no more than an hour.  59:59.  Especially with all the cheering, camaraderie, and a lack of traffic lights to stop for, I thought I would do even better than that.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Here's a map of the race day route.

The runner's route (as opposed to the 5km walkers) is everything red, which is most of it.  The yellow building marks the start and is a building in our University area called the Butterdome.  I think it might be called that cause it's a big yellow brick of a building.  And now, on to the drama.  Follow along on the map if you dare...

As we round the corner immediately following the starting line, everything is fun and exciting!  Nobody can really run at all, because there are something like 6 or 7 hundred runners!  Then as we come to the next right, located at the bottom left most corner of the map, things are thinning out gradually, and I find I am passing most people at my unrushed pace.  Things are good!  Though most people there didn't know about common running courtesy, like not running side by side when you are a group of ten going really slow.

On the map it's quite hard to see, but that congested area that comes next is actually a hairpin turn for the runners, and the place where the walkers go on their separate shorter way straight through.  So we all turn sharp left and go down a long steady hill all the way to that tree that says Emily Murphy park by it.  I went as fast as gravity would take me down this hill, and passed a lot of people.  I thought I might as well use the hill since I would have to climb back up a hill somewhere later on.  Things were just great!  I was going to break my hour mark easily!  But then....

guuuurrrrggggllllle  ka-DUNK

A roughly transcribed onomatopoeia does not do justice to the terrifying sound and even more horrifying feeling that came over me just as we were approaching that first bridge.  The dam of fiber and comfort in my digestive system had apparently collapsed, and suddenly, I was in severe need of a certain kind of facility located all over most University areas.

It was quite amazing really.  The suddenness.  Only twice before can I recall a time where my body had gone from 'everything's good' to 'toilet NOW' in only moments.  Both previous times were immediately following cheap wings night at Original Joe's.  Incredibly, the nightmare I have had every night before every sporting event I've ever participated in in my entire life had come to fruition in this beautiful late Saturday afternoon.  I needed a toilet, and I needed it now.

As you can tell on the route map, at this point in the race, I am only somewhere between 2 to 3 kilometers (.62 miles is one kilometer) into my 10km race.  At first I try to mentally suppress the problem.  Focusing on the specific muscles and sphincters (sorry if this is all too graphic, but, you're still reading!), trying my best to hold it off until after the race.  It was no good.  I even passed by the only outhouse I was sure existed along the route, telling myself that it was too far off and I would come in last if I went to use it.  What a mistake that was!

About halfway down the bridge I started to walk briskly instead of run.  I was in bad shape.

Now we're about halfway down the long stretch along side the river.  I'm still walking, and look who so selflessly (not selfishly, SELFLESSLY) decided to drive along the route and find a place to pull over and cheer me on.... my brother and nephew!  In the distance they could see me walking, as I said before, briskly, cheering me on to run further, to fight for the cure!  Only when I reached them and awkwardly whispered the real cause of my fatigue did the truth epiphanize itself on my brother.  At which point he laughed and we tried to conjure up some kind of solution to my ever growing problem.  Every once in a while, I would try to run some more.  No dice.

Despite my desperation, I decided the best thing to do was keep walking in hopes of an outhouse especially designated for the runners right along the trail, and behold!  Somewhere after kilometer 6, on the map, it was at that very North East corner, there was a water station tent in sight!  And I knew as soon as I saw it, that they had set up port-o-johns somewhere nearby.  Perhaps it was the good Lord comforting me, but without seeing them yet, I just knew.  And sure enough, there they were!

Three glorious green portable toilet stations!  Complete with clean seats, plenty of toilet paper, and even hand sanitizer for afterwards!  They were even off of the trail just a hair so that you felt a kind of privacy while using them.  Needless to say, I was pretty pleased!  And just as soon as I had dropped my shorts... well, you probably know the rest!

About ten or fifteen minutes later, that's right, 10-15, I hopped out of that toilet, and started sprinting as if there was a raging bull behind me.  I was lighter, and amazingly free to run without restraint!  And I had lots of time wasted walking and, doooing other things to make up for in the last 4 kilometers.

Finally, after passing many people who's fatigue had got the better of them, I came up to the last straight away, and sprinted as hard as I could for that last half km.  And as I crossed the finish line, I read "1:13:**" on the clock, and realized the incredible significance.

If I had not walked for 4kms, or spent at least 10 minutes sitting still, I would have achieved my goal!  Those final four kms were probably the fastest four kms I have run in my life.

But the lesson in this story, the point I want you all to take home with you, and always remember in the hard times of life, is not that I ran the race well in the end, or that I should have gone to the bathroom before it started (though good lessons they are), no the real importance and significance, the height at which to set your own bar in your lives, the truth that cannot be denied!  Is that I did not crap my pants.

Young Child

Another thing that has hit me lately, is that, and I have no gentle way of putting this, but, well as I get older, so do my parents, and they won't be around forever.

Maybe your parents are older than mine.  Maybe a lot older.  What I mean to say is that I am finally starting to realize how much I need to grow before I ever become a real man in this world, and I might have to do some of that without any help from my parents, and that scares me quite a bit.

I have one grandparent left, my mother's father, and I don't think he is going to be around much longer.  He's a great guy, and I'll miss him, so it's not like I'm waiting for it to happen.  But every time I visit him he is a bit skinnier and, well, I don't know what else.  A bit less interested in anything at all.  Mostly when we get together, he starts to talk about spiritual things right away, and it's sometimes the same things he said last time.  I don't know.  I hope he wants to stick around a bit longer, and I will do my best to be with him when I can until he does go.  Maybe I'm focused on mortality a bit too much lately.

I really want to be there for my parents when things get hard, but I can hardly take care of myself.  I wish I could support them financially, and move them close by, and have them babysit my kids while my wife and I go out somewhere for the evening.  Wish that I could help my dad retire so that he could relax and we could go golfing every couple of weekends.  But it will be many years before there is even a small chance of any of this happening.  I won't be married for a while if at all, and the idea of me making substantial money in the next 15 years is laughable.  Not that I care about the money.  No, the point is, I am constantly worried about being so far behind in life that I won't be there for my parents and they won't be there for me for a lot of my life still to come.


Maybe, whilst in transition, I could spend a concentrated amount of time with them this next year.  Stay with them, work on their house, watch movies with them, allow them to tell me about some girl I've never met that would make a good girlfriend for me, the works.



I would like that a lot.  They're pretty great parents.

One With The Universe

I have not been going to sleep at a reasonable time for a very long time now, and it's getting worse.

That is not to say, I have been having trouble sleeping, but rather, I just have no interest in doing it, subconsciously that is.  I dread the next morning.  I think I am most productive at night, which is sad, as I've always really wanted to be a morning person, and it just keeps on looking like it's not going to happen.

~~~

I took this photo of myself one day years ago, because I couldn't stop smiling.  It may not look like a real, joyful bursting-out smile, but it was.  I had an incredibly spiritual day, and I figured a lot of stuff out in a few short amount of time.  Suddenly everything (everything at the time) made sense, and I am hoping a similar day is coming very soon.

~~~

I am at a point in my life where change is finally going to come, but I only have a vague feeling of what it is going to be.  I have been working for the same wonderful employer for 4 years this next Christmas.  Why not say 3 and a half years you ask?  Because I am fairly confident that I will be quitting my job this winter, as in the pool business (the business I am in), that is the slow season, and I want to be as convenient to my wonderful boss as possible.

Another question you may have is, "Barry, if your boss is so wonderful, why are you quitting?"  My answer is, because I have to.  I have an opportunity to get my journeyman's plumbing ticket with this company, which promises something like $37/hour once I get it four years later, I currently get benefits, none of which I have used yet, and my boss respects me and so do my coworkers.  But even though all of this great stuff is happening right now with my work, that is all it really is.

If you don't know me, I'm turning 24 in July, and I've had construction related jobs since I was 19.  I'm a pretty smart guy, and could have and may still someday go to post-secondary, but when I graduated, I had no passion in any specific field, and certainly not enough interest in any career directions to justify the large debt I would have to go into to go to school.  Anyway, I know quite a bit about almost every part of home construction at this point in my life, and it would probably be a very safe direction for me to follow in this life.

But I have to say, personally, I get zero fulfillment from cleaning/repairing a rich person's pool, or installing a $30,000 kitchen (unless it's for friends or poor people of course).  If I keep doing this work, I will probably have an insane amount of regrets later in life.  For sure many, but probably an insane amount.  I love to travel, and I love to help people, and I love Jesus.  I'm not extremely good at any of those things (though I am getting better at traveling), but I know that I feel great about myself, my faith, and my life when I pursue them.

Of course you could then suggest that I stay in construction and work for some kind of charitable organization.  Great idea!  I'm sure that might come into play someday once again, but for now, I need to get out.  And it turns out I have recently had an epiphany.  A passion has erupted out of what always seemed like a simple waste of a couple hours once in a while.  The first time I have ever thought, "I could do that for the rest of my life and apply it to my faith at the same time."  I bet you can't wait to hear what it is, but I love going on like this.  But now I can't think of other ways to describe it without giving it away.  So, here it is.

Film making

Something finally clicked recently.  Actually I remember the day (not the date) it happened.  I have been going to the Edmonton International Film Festival for the past 3 years now, and I intend to continue going every year that I am around.  I recommend you all do the same.  I've seen 7 full length films in one day.  I had a pounding headache for probably the last three, and not a single full meal the entire day.  Just snacks, of which I regretted every one.  I would watch the films and think, "I would love to get into this" and that would be the end of my thoughts, because for whatever reason, I always believed there was no way I could possibly get into it.  Not that I didn't think I was good or creative enough, but just that I thought I am so unlucky in life, that it just wouldn't work, I would never get anywhere in such a high risk industry (unless my goal was to become a key grip in a comic book movie, cause that would probably be doable if I tried really hard).

So now we come to something like a month ago, and me, and a friend of mine, go out to see the new movie, "Source Code", and like I said earlier, this is when something changed.  I don't even recommend going out to see this movie.  Rent, yes.  Watch on tv, definitely.  Purchase, probably not.  Out of ten, I personally give it a weak seven.  What I'm trying to say is that the movie itself was not that terribly memorable, but throughout the whole thing, I kept finding myself thinking, "I could really do this if I wanted to" and then immediately following that thought, I would think, "I want to do this".

Perhaps it has a lot to do with my big brother getting into all of this ahead of me and proving that it is possible, at least preliminarily, to get into film making, and maybe make some good stuff.

So, trying not to get lost in my thoughts, I will close with some facts.  Whether I do or not, I really need to leave my current work very soon, or it might consume me and become all that I am.  And I am not a construction worker.  I think short-term, I will simply buy some basic equipment, like a camera, and more importantly and infinitely more difficult....ly, I will find the time to start making some short films, and writing some longer ones.  All I really need is to get Steven Spielberg to produce one idea, and I'll have made it!  I enjoy films, I understand quite a bit about them themselves, and how they are made, and I think I can put those two together into a career quite nicely.

So if you know me, or even if you don't, I simply ask that you keep me in your thoughts over the coming months and even this year, and if you know me personally,


please, keep me accountable to my dreams.  Passion is new to me.

Tiling

Have I mentioned how I have a very unique relationship with tile?

You may know that I currently work in the construction industry doing a little bit of everything.  Included in this little bit of everything is tile work.  Tile fascinates me, and attracts me, more than most other things.  When done properly, tile is almost indestructible!  It holds water out, which is the main point of it most times, it's made of stone, or stone-like material anyway, and the method of constructing a tiled surface is extremely strong, like concrete.

I also love how it looks.  If you can get the funds for it, there are practically no limits as to what you can do with tile, and what it can look like.  I've seen stainless steel plated tiles (about $80/ft), recycled sea glass tiles (starting at $60/ft), and don't get me started on actual stone or granite tiles.  Don't even get me started ($$$/ft).

I am pretty good at putting tile up.  Or down.  Side to side even.  Here's a picture of some work I finished today, but I won't explain or defend myself.

Well maybe I'll defend myself a little.  Those stripes are just covered in tape right now, and I haven't grouted yet, but believe me, it's going to look awesome in a few days.  Tub's going in the hole, and glass walls around the shower.

I don't really know what I want to say about tile, but it's something to do with the fact that even though I love the practicality, look, feel, and durability of tile, I really don't like doing it at all.  Not even a little.  Though I do get a good sense of accomplishment when I finish tiling something.

The bathroom in the picture took me a couple weeks to tile, essentially by myself.  This is the other problem.  I don't know if I'm fast, average, or slow at this stuff.  I'm probably slow.  Who knows?  Somebody does.  I've even been working overtime like crazy trying to get it done in those two weeks.  Last night I dreamt about a few things at once, friends, my nephews, and tiling.  Basically tile has occupied my thoughts for two straight weeks, and now I'm coming out of it slowly.

It's good stuff, but it's hard work with a lot of thinking involved.  I hope someday to have a marriage where the relationship is comparable to tile.  *Hard work, but always extremely rewarding, and very beautiful.


*Cheese

~~~~~

As an attachment to this entry, I would like to say that my old blog, currently has not many more hits than this newer one, but boy are they ever from interesting places!  All over the world actually.  Most of the countries listed are places where I do not know anyone, and my number one fan-base is in... the Netherlands!  Somehow I just need to scooch everyone over to Cello Shredder....

TBTF

So, there's this song by Kevin Drew, of Broken Social Scene, called TBTF, or, "Too Beautiful To F&#%". I must admit, I don't really know much of the lyrics 'cept for the chorus, and I for sure don't know what it's about, except that I heard through the grape vine that Kevin wrote it for Sarah McLachlan, which I think is pretty sweet if it's true, at least from my perspective...

Anyway, I was listening to that song recently, and of course, I started to think about what it means for someone to be too beautiful to... you know. Now we all know that to fornicate under command of the king is quite a crude way to say 'have sex' or 'make love', right? I certainly hope all of my blog followers don't use the term too liberally. And in this song, it is quite safe to say that Mr. Drew is not using the verb in it's other form, like "to screw over" or "mess with" or whatever.

So right off the bat, I am thinking about sexual attraction instead of beauty when I think of the F-bomb, you with me? So naturally, I then looked up some pictures of Sarah, wondering what exactly she looks like, since it has been a while since I've even thought of her at all. Classy. Of course these are good pictures of her. There's a good chance that there are lots of pictures out there of her in low rise jeans and a strapless unflattering tube top.

When I put it all together, I have decided that there are three factors, in my opinion, that determine whether a woman is beautiful or not. "not", in this case, can mean "sexy". In descending order of obviousness...

1) Physical Attributes: Not to be confused with big chest and small waist, this factor is all about the face. Sad to say that some people out there are just naturally better looking than others, and in this case (my case), eyes, nose, cheek bones, lips, hair, and all of their corresponding sizes, locations and symmetry, are a crucial part of being beautiful. Personally? Eyes and hair are high on my list, and honestly (hopefully a confidence boost for some), a slightly bigger nose is very much a plus. Pour example, Jennifer Grey BEFORE she decided to change hers. Of course this first factor entirely depends on the third one...

2) Clothing/manner of dress: There is no way to confuse this one. The clothes are only less important than physical attributes in that they are chosen completely by choice. Even then, it's a toss up. Lets get tramp stamps and multi-coloured hair out of the way early here (you heard me). Personally, and I shouldn't have to say this is all just my opinion, I prefer as few unnatural touches as possible. Tans, piercings, tattoos, and unreasonable hair colour all kind of seem to call for attention to me, not that that is always or even ever the reason they are done. Again, my opinion, I don't want anyone to hate me after reading this. I will have a point to all this by the way, at the end of the entry. As for clothing, I am a freak I guess, cause for me, the modester (made it up, and no, it doesn't say "molester") the better. Now, of course if I see something sexy, I will be sexually attracted to it, that's the whole point, but notice how I used the word "it". I don't want to be attracted to strange girls' behinds, it's something I'd rather not have to deal with all the time, but have to anyways. Again, I represent a small, but hopefully influential percentage of the planet's men. What I mean by the modester the better, is not ten baggy layers of snow pants, but well fitting clothes, that cover all of the "Hands off" areas, especially the midriff, and leave lots to the imagination. For me, a girl who knows how to "put it on" rather than "take it off" is hot stuff. Crazy amounts of make-up, hair products and other super model trends say to me "fragile" and "keep your distance". Moderation. I could keep going, but I won't. I'm sure any girls reading this are ready to strangle me and say, "You don't know what it's like!!!" And to them, I say, thanks for trying and keep fighting the good fight! And again, this is all dependent on what's next...

3) Personality: This one can mean, confidence, attitude, aura, whatever you call the sense other people get about you from nothing but your presence in the room. Confidence in your looks can be distancing, but confidence in who you are is extremely attractive. What I mean is, you're not flaunting everything or boasting about how awesome you look, you're just alright with how you look and even more so with who you are, whether you have some flaws or you are Rebecca Black. You're friendly and ready for anything. This is truly attractive.

So who is too beautiful to f#$%? Asking me? Someone out of my league, with an above average sized nose, a little bit of a strut, and a smile that breaks hearts. Like I said, anybody can wear skin tight Lululemon sweat pants and stick out some cleavage, but the ones worth a double or triple take, are often bundled up walking down the road in January when it's -15 (a reason I love winter), wearing board shorts at the beach, hiding behind low bangs and thick frames, and wear scarves, stockings and/or sneakers. I mean, I have fallen head over heals in love with a complete stranger I see at the other end of the hallway for only a few fleeting moments based on these things. And of course I'm not saying these are the only people TBTF, just defining it in it's most pure form based on my tastes. You probably shouldn't even listen to anything I say. I've been single for a long time now...

Newfound Hope?

I do not like to talk about my problems. Maybe those of you who know me disagree, and think that I complain a lot. I'm going to disagree with your disagreement. Maybe that used to be me, but I've come a short way over the years. When I am struggling with something, I will do my best to make sure people don't know about it. I am beginning to see that this can be a good thing at times, and a bad thing the rest of the time. So, I've decided to blog about a few issues instead of talking.

I have been in the construction biz on and off since I graduated now. Something like five years. If you would have told me that this would be my future five years ago, I would have laughed in your face. I don't regret much about the decisions that made this construction reality my life. I am not embarrassed that I work with my hands and don't wear a tie to work every day, and most of the time my work is actually somewhat enjoyable, though it can definitely become stressful easily enough.

No, the problem I have with where I am at, is that there is very little fulfillment in what I do. At least to me. Don't get me wrong though, the ability to help people I care about with quite a number of different skills I have acquired over these years is great, and it does feel great to help people, but where I'm at, my job itself doesn't allow me to help people who need it. Whether it is the pool side or the renovation side of my current occupation, in either case, I am simply improving a very well-off person's home in some way that would financially make you cringe. These people don't need help from me, they just want a very fine product that I happen to be selling. They could buy it from someone else if they had to, and probably quite easily. You're probably wondering where I'm going here.

I have just been given the option of staying on for at least four more years, during which time I would go to school for 2 months a year, NAIT I think, as a means to receive a plumbers ticket in the end.

So, do I do it? I'll be 28 by the time I am a licensed plumber, and would feel obliged to stay with the company that got me there for several years after that. I was actually considering this until I had thought and prayed about it for a few days. I don't want to be a plumber, and I don't want to do this job any more than I have to. Recently I made a very large error at work that cost my boss money, and cost me a lot of time. Then I went and saw Fight Club last night, which solidified my hunter-gatherer instincts once again, telling myself that I don't need a degree to be a man (not that I'll never get one necessarily). Money would be great, but I'm not too worried about it until I either have kids, or turn 70, whichever comes first.

So my question to you, the viewer, is... What on Earth should I do next? I haven't had a plan for a while now, and it's really starting to scare me. My hope is that in a few years I will look back on this entry and snicker a little bit, and my nightmare is that in a few years I will look back on this entry and sigh because everything might be exactly the same as now.

Musicexual Frustration

Recently, I have had an epiphany. I will never be a good enough musician to make the kind of music I love.

I mean, maybe if suddenly I won the lottery, and could spend every hour of every day making music, working with expensive producers, and buying all the great equipment, as well as, of course, getting lessons, maybe then I could make something happen, but I have always imagined my favorite musicians as people who started out like me, trying to write songs with nothing but an acoustic guitar in the basement.

I could be wrong though. Maybe all the great ones (my great ones) started out with a band, and finished with a band. Maybe they couldn't write anything good with just the guitar. Maybe they needed input from their friends, the ones they learned their instruments with and always bounced ideas off of. If this is the case, then I am screwed. I know very few musicians that have any interest in actually spending time together playing music, or at least with me. Recently I've tried replacing band members with some nicer equipment, like a drum machine and a loop station, but really, it's not working out so good as of yet. What I really need is a drummer, and a bassist.

So, if you care about me at all, and you know somebody who just sits in their basement once in a while banging their drums or slapping their bass, send them my way. I love music too much to let it go, but I need a band.