Prepare the Altar.

Welcome to the round up. This is the paragraph that explains where we have been so far and transitions to where we are going. I think it is going well so far, but there is some room for improvement, and most dangerously, there is enough that still needs to be done that it might go horribly wrong. The biggest problem for me is not using the word so as an opener.

In all seriousness, we have learned that identity is not a choice, and we also learned that it takes a whole bunch of new agey words and concepts to define one's identity. For those who read yesterday's deliniation of the facets (i Had to use the word facets in a sentence because someone was using the word today non stop, but mispronouncing it. There are many faucets to this case. In order to understand what is going on we need to examine each faucet. It drove me up the wall so much that I needed to write a Wheatonesque parenthetical after actually using the right word in a sentence) to ....does anyone actually remember what I was saying before the parenthetical breakdown? Me either. Ok, yesterday we used different categories to define our own identities.

Some astute people may have noticed that I left something important out. Beliefs. I touched briefly on world view, but I specifically wanted to give this aspect of identity it's own top billing.

I did this because, it is my belief that beliefs are a strong force that implore people to behave in a certain way.

Beliefs are some of the strongest factors in our behaviour because they define our world view and speak to our desire for perfection of the future self.

Most of us are stuck in what is called present bias. We think more about the person we are right now, and less about the person of the future. Wer tend to pamper ourselves right away, rather than plan to pamper our future self. Mostly we do this because we like to think of our future self as being perfect. We think this person is going to eat better, live better, treat people better.

Think of it this way, you purchase a steak and asparagus. That night you are trying to decide what to have for dinner. You can only have one or the other. Someone with present bias (which is most of the honest people in the world. The rest will lie in exactly 12 seconds) will eat the steak and say to themself, on Monday, I am going to eat my vegetables and be happy about it. You see, the real you is in love with the steak and so you pamper yourself with it, telling yourself that the you of tomorrow is a better preson and will do the right thing.

Beliefs are much like us trying to work towards that better us. We select a series of thoughts and ideas that allow us to comfort the present self with thoughts of a stronger future self and future world.

I have no interest in going in to a discussion of spirituality at this point. The truth of religion is not what we are discussing here, merely the psychology why we choose religion and belief structures.

We use these beliefs in a ritualistic fashion. Ritual is a strong factor in ourlives because it brings on strong emotional memory. It is sort of the reverse of insanity, which is to say, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same result.

Our past experiences are tied to emotion, some good and some bad. We seek out with great passion and fervour the good and avoid the bad like the plague (unless we are maladaptive, in which case we seek out the bad to reinforce our skewed mental image of the world).

It saddens me to realise, I have no ritual. I have no experiences which I seek to relive.

Because it is December, I think about all my Christmas rituals. None of which I have kept or find specific interest in.

I used to desire the advent calendar. When I was a kid, I would do the advent thing every year. Each morning i would run to get my little piece of choclate. BTW, have you ever noticed that the low quality chocolate in those things tastes the same no matter where you are in the world? Creepy. Anyway, when I tried to recapture that as an adult, it just felt flat. Oh, for the geeky, I just learned there is an app for that. No kidding, you can download an advent calander app for you iWhatever, and every day you get a fun little winter/christmas themed little animation. There really is an app for everything.

I used to watch the Grinch every year, but that too has never been the same since living in Ottawa. It just now reminds me of bad feelings.

I seem to have gotten off the track of beliefs, but I think we all understand how these beliefs dictate our desired actions and feelings. Your beliefs unfortunitely hit the breakwater of your actions and emotions. This cognitive dissonance is what allows Christians to beat their wives, Muslims to kill people, Buhdists to do anything, and Athiests to be kind (just kidding atheists, don't hate me because I am sarcastic).

The point is, when we have beliefs, no matter what they are, we are forced to try and behave like our beliefs dictate. The trouble of course present bias. It allows us to break our belief structure b ecause on Monday we will be more Like Sidartha/Jesus?Satan?the great pumpkin.

Ritual is the form many of these beliefs take because we strive to reexperience anything and everything that once made us feel good. Whatever made us feel loved, cared for, whole, other adjective.

For those reasons, belief and ritual are a huge factor in our identity. We place a lot of value on how we hope the future will be, and without belief and ritual to lean on and look forward to respectively, we become lost in our own actions only. Most of which would make us feel crappy if we didn't know for a fact that on Monday the diet starts.




P.S., this post is gonna seem a bit disjointed because I removed a huge chunk, and that cripled the flow in the middle, but it was necessary, and I didn't want to not do this piece in its entirely.

Dippity Doo Da.

So what did we learn yesterday? We learned that you actually don't get to choose who you are. There are a multitude of factors that comprise you identity, none of which are choices. I could dazzle you with my psycho bablle and explain to you the effects of your biopsychosocial framework on your identity, but I think it is safe to assume that I actually do know what I am talking about, after all, I used biopsychosocial framework in a sentence.....properly.

But wait, could we not choose which parts of our identity, of the self to display. Without going in to the ways in which the ego, id and superego interact...to a certain extent yes. But what else did we learn yesterday? That we do this all the time, and it is pointless, so let's move on.

Part 2 of our 5 part series on how to be you is all about figuring out how to find your identity. If we remove choice from the equation, then we must now look at a way to figure the whole thiing out.

Like I said yesterday, choice would make this so much simpler. Wouldn't it be great if I could choose to be a nice person? Oh the money would roll right on in then.

Instead, we are stuck with searching our own souls for our identity...or at least the dorkstick in the mirror.

What aspects make up identity, maybe we should start there.

Personality? Self Image? Activities? Actions? Desires?

Yeah I like those criteria. They seem doable, and not to far out there on the new agey limb. That limb is tough to stay on because there is a white guy in a dashiki who smells like pecculi chanting self help mantras while doing the downward facing dog. It is unsafe for most people. Where's my Enya?

Ok wait, where was I? Oh right, personality.

What the freak is personality anyway? Is it the culmination of the way in which we see the world, and thus treat it? Is it defined by our nature and what ways we choose to preseent ourselves to the world?

Okie dokie, I can handle that.

I am a sarcastic bastard. Really, I hadn't noticed.

I sometimes find myself playing nice with others when I don't want to. They bother me, but I cling to them for some sort of comfort. Then I am all sarcastic. It makes my head hurt sometimes.

I also have this, shit happens world view, which causes me to not react emotionally to situations not involving bitches and whores....did I say that out loud? Anyway, the point is, I am oone of those melodramatic fools, no doubt about it...wait, that is lame pop grunge, not a real statement.

What this world view does is force me to use humour as every type of weapon/defense mechanism in the book. It is also what makes me both fun at parties and a great person to have around when the bio waste hits the oscilating cooling device. I just don't gfet stressed out when limbs fall off or people are running around trying to solve an emergency.

To sum up, I am a thoughtless jerk most of the time, but hey, nobodies perfect. I mostly just like to play with people and say stuff just to watch them react. It is fun for me.

Self Image. I'd like to skip this one, but I am not going to. Oh, I should explain at this point, I am doing this for myself to show you how it is done and perhaps my brass ones might lead you down the road of self discover too.

Self image is, give or take, the person you see in the mirror, and the person you think of when someone says your name. This is how you describe you to you, and then how you project that to the world.

Some days I like the man in the mirror, and somedays I see him as a fat loser. I guess this is mostly because I give too much power to the outside world, but what the heck, gotta give them some power sometime, or I would just internalize everything, and that sounds like a horrible idea.

I also see myself as not overly worth other people's time. This is a confidence issue which often leads to me not being worth people's time.

I am done with this one because it makes me feel bad.

I would like to point out though, today, I am having a good mirror day. I just thought I looked good. A large, strong person with style and a bit of a quirky personality. My face was not ugly, but full of interest and character.

Yay, good mirror day.

Activities are the things you enjoy doing. While we are not always defined by our hobbies and interests, they certainly add to the mosaic...oh there's a new agey term....I need more whey protein, and a damn soy based beverage.

What can I say, I am a geek. I like Star Wars. I can quote Star Wars. I can quote people who quote Star Wars. I own Fanboys. I have Star Wars minatures.

I game. Both electronically, and table top...ily.

I also love music.

Pop culture is funny to me, and I like to make fun of it...non stop. I could sit in Darryl's basement listening to Bluegrass (I really dislike bluegrass btw) laughing at youtube videos and discussing the downfall of civilization for the rest of my life and only desire some fresh food and water every once and a while.

I am also in to sports. I always have been. I love baseball, like hockey, and am interested in Footbal...mainly for the napping value.

I think the point I am making is, I don't give a crap about purses, bracelets, your boyfriend, what so and so said to you, or any of what you are doing with your hair now. If it doesn't have a batting average, Thaco (woot for the old school dandd reference, a touchdown to interception ratio, a beat you can slice people's heads off to, or failing that, dance to; then I am not the least bit interested in it.

Those are my interests and hobbies...oh did I mention I like to press buttons. I really don't care what kind of warning labels appear above, below, beside, or even on them. My desire to press them and see what happens is overwhelming. I do this with people too. It makes it hard to actually be my friend. I am guess only one person who is reading this actually knows these things about me and is laughing a bit about it. I can be a hard person to be friends with.

Actions differ from activities because I am defining actions as the things you do, not because you like them, but because you have to. They are your behaviours. The way yu act around other people. This also differs from your personality to some degree because, these are the ways you actually act, not the way you want to act.

You may have nboticed some of my descriptions included actions, and that is sort of the way actions work. They are sprinkled in to all the other categries. The only thing I can think of about my actions that stands out on their own is maybe the way I scowl in public. I like to make people stand apart from me and think I am unapproachable. This is a carry over from the street.

Lastly, we have the ever important desires.

I desire to help people. Sometimes, the cynic in me, says I like this, or desire to do this because it makes me feel better about all the ways I hurt people in the past. The optimist (a rarely seen figure in my clothing) likes to think it is because I have an enlightened world view and see this as a shattered world that needs everyone working together to make it whole again. I eel good when I help people, and that is all that matters. The who what where when why of it is just window dressing for psychoanalysts to chew on...mmmm mixed metaphorical statements taste like slimy.

I desire companionship. There is nothing I hate more than being alone. It drives me bonkers. I need company. Even if it is just knowing someone is nearby. I have felt broken and alone so much of my life that I just can't stand it anymore.

I desire sex. Yes, that's right, I loves me some sex. The sex is great. It really is. I like every aspect of it, esspecially the closeness and oneness of the whole deal.

I think now you can see how my desires manifest in actions. If only I wasn't paranoid of people and completely mistrustful of their motivations. That is my maladaptive behaviour, and while I would love to sit here typing about it, that is not what this is about. This is about positive things, not the things that are a bummer about each and every one of us.

If we roll all of that together in to a neat package, we start to get an idea of my identity. Who I am, what I stand for, what people can expect from me, how losery I am. Wanna know how bad I am? I actualy have a file folder on my computer full of my interests called losery. It makes me smile.

Now you try it.

As of day two, we have learned that identity is not something you can choose, nor is it easy to define. We have learned you can highlight aspects, or closet some of them, but in the end, you are who you are.

I wonder how many people who think they are my friend are now realising that I have suppressed me when dealing with them. How many friends realise I am not me around them because they would not accept me. I am no longer interested in hiding that, just as I am no longer interested in hiding that I am smart. I may not be able to type well, spell, do math, or draw, but I am friggin smart. I don't want to sound conceited, but there are very few rooms I have ever been in where I was not the smartest one in the room.

In the catagory of be careful what you wish for, I present to you, me. You all said be me. Well here I am. You should be you to, see how ar that gets you in life.

Tomorrow we will discuss chocolate and the amazing Boris Karloff.

You, Me and Decree.

I find it rather interesting that more than one person has given me the advice that I just need to be me. Be yourself monkey man, and the world will be yours. This is such a load of BS it makes me feel like Cartman's mom.

No one, ever, wants you to be you, it interferes with them being them. In all honesty, being me makes every woman on the planet want to be my friend. I do not need any more friends. I don't like half the ones I have now, and the other half don't get treated half as well as they should because I am so busy with the half I want to beat about the head and neck with a baseball bat.

Think about it. People are jerks. We are all selfish, and we are all more animal than we would like to admit. Everyone likes to point to the UCLA study that had half a psychology class pretend to be convicts and the other half prison guards. Unsupervisedd, after only a few short days, the guards turned insane and began torturing their classmates. This is people being them.

Sure, these are average people, but the world is full of average people. Despite what they might think, I have met very few above average people. I know a handful, maybe 3-4 above average people. The rest of them are depressingly average, even if they think they are not.

Dating, at least the attraction process of it is about putting your best foot forward. It is sort of like people who dress up for church. God doesn't care what you wear, or anything of the sort, but you had better look good for the neighbours. The same thing is true of attraction stage dating. You are supposed to be on your best behaviour.

Sure, no one suggests that you should lie, but you certainly need to behave in specific way. Why do you think first dates are so stressful? Not because of the pressure to be charming, but because of the pressure to edit everything you do or say.

I think it is ridiculous to think that you can attract a person merely by being yourself. Yourself is selfish. Yourself talks with their mouthful, yourself grunts at the wrong time. Yourself farts. Yourself sometimes would rather be somewhere else.

It seems interesting to me that people think they are being themselves. The same people who pretend to be things they aren't. They lie to themselves. They fake enjoyment of things to please other people. They pretend to like their coworkers.

All these fake people think I need to be myself.

Of course, that advice is harder to follow when you have no idea who you are. We all fake it to make it. We all pretend to be things, pretend to like things. Some of us try so hard to fit in that we forgot who we are.

That is where I find myself. I have beem faking it so long I am not sure who I really am. I have pretended to be so much that the real me has fallen away and I have either become who I pretend to be, or I have zero identity.

This got me thinking how do you find your own identity.

To that end, I am going to examine some identities this week and see if any of them fit.

First off, I think I should be gay. I am terrible with women, you know, unbless I want to just be friends. I think this means I am gay. A legion of females who want to be my friend and are so comfortable around me they can talk about anything, and make me feel like a tool. Ok so Imight be gay.

It would be so easy for me to just start being gay.

Of course, while I love sausage I am just not a fan of giving head. I don't want those things in my mouth.

Ok, I can be a pitcher.

I am beefy and angry, I can be a bear. Yes, I can be a selfish top bear. According to the fat man's large gay friend Malcolm, it is simple to get laid as a bear. This would make me happy.

I guess I can be a big gay bear.

My most meaningful relationships in the last few years of been solely with men. Ian, Darryl, Jay. All guys. My female relationships have been ripe with annoying behaviours, dissapointment, rejection and all the other lovely things we all hope and dream for.

Apparently I am in to dudes. I get along with them, and they never dissapoint me.

Maybe I am a big gay bear man lover.

Wouldn't it be great if the christians were right and the world worked this way. Of course, it doesn't work this way.

I love women. Men are rough, and bumpy, and smelly. Women are soft and rounded and smell amazing. Men are mostly idiots, women are kind and seem to be interesting to me. I do not like outies, men are outies.

Short, tall, fat, skinny, blonde, red head, brunette, white, black, chinese, native, they are all attractive. I find myself in general appreciation of most women I see. This isn't going well. It would appear that despite the fact women only want me as their gay friend, I am unfailingly in to them, and apart from a very select few, I can't stand dudes. Ther majority of them think only of eating, fucking and drinking.

Ok, identity check number 1. I am flamingly heterosexual.

Ok, I guess tomorrow I will try and be something else.

One Monkey Week Nov 22-28

I am not going to apologize for how this is going to go. This is my first aggregate blog post. Hopefully it works out.

One week of blogs in one paragraph.

I joined everyone else on the internet and blogged about not blogging, then I began my highly publicised meltdown. Some might have thought it was about this clever Barenaked Ladies Reference. In reality, it had more to do with misbegotten youth than it dd with misfiring neurons and seratonin reuptake issues, which is the Big Bang Theory description of love. I took a few minutes out of making an ass of myself to direct you all why white men do not like people to touch their junk, and how the media burries the lead underneath a social accepted koleidiscope of colour. As an aside, if you are interested in Toronto's gang history, you may want to check it out as well. After that, shit got sour. I started posting about my emotions, which is never a good idea. So to sum up, I am still living with my ghosts, I am a lonely bastard, I listen to too much white guy radio, and I mistreat the internet as my own personal crying towel.

& monkey messages.

These are the messages of the day from Facebook.

There are many ways of breaking a heart. Stories were full of hearts
broken by love, but what really broke a heart was taking away its dream -
whatever that dream might be. - Pearl S. Buck

All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is
to discover them.Galileo Galilei


Uhmmmm....so the rest got accidentally deleted when I transfered management of the page over to someone else. Oops, my bad. You can safely assume there were a bunch of really cool quotes from some of the best thinkers of our time. That reminds me, Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain) did the coolest most awesomest thing. He wrote an auto biography, and left strict instructions that it not be published for 100 years after his death. I often wonder if this guy was truly one of the greatest thinkers ever, or just a collection of ideas someone found and aggregated. This proves that the former is true. A brilliant brilliant man, if a bit of a douchey product of his time.

Anyway, next week, I should have the full list of quotes for you.


The musical interlude.

Here are the songs of the day, those that were not deleted.

Stone Sour - Zzyzx Rd. Just a brilliant song from a dude who wears make up. It is sometimes hard to believe that the front man from Slipknot (a pretty good metal band) is also the front man from this band. A real smart funny dude, and his music is worth checking out. This song, in particular speaks volumes to me. Desperation is a dangerous trap.

Breaking Benjaimin - Away One of my favourite bands. Obsession is a dangerous game. Sometimes, it is far better to walk away than it is to feed the animals at the zoo. This is one monkey that you may wish to pass by, lest he fling a little present at you.

Three Days Grace - Wake Up Another great post grunge rock band, this time from the Canada. This song is an interesting beggary for a second chance. In my head it is about me trying to find my way back to myself. Sort of like my new self clamouring for my old self. Wondering where I went to, and why I am not here to save me. I think sometimes, I wish for that old protective shell. I feel myself slipping in to it more and more. It is like putting on a comfortable set of clothes that just screams you.

Drowning Pool - Bodies 1. Nothing wrong with me. 2. Nothing wrong with me. 3. Nothing wrong with me. 1. Somethingès gotta give. A continuation of the thought of returning to who I feel comfortable being. I think we all try hard to be the person people will like and care two taxi chits about. Sometimes I think it is easier to be the inner angry voice, than it is to be the outer, more acceptable me. This song is about being the inner you. Being me is about not caring about what you think, so be you, and let the bodies hit the floor.

Weekly Nirvana.

Seriously, did anyone think I would not get to this. Instead of always picking them for the song of the day, I felt it better to just provide you with one Kurt, Krist, and whoever happens to be drumming for them, pearl of wisdom a week.



Breaking Up is hard to do, whether it is with a person, concept, deity, or yourself.


Podcast of the week.


It comes from the mind of Chris Hardwick, former mtv dude, and genuinely funny guy. He is a fellow geek. Some of his geek credentials include having once been Will Wheaton's roommate, having an apple genius as a co-host, and hating Dr.Who, timelord.

The podcast is full of funny people. Each week he brings on a nerd/geek culture related guest or comedian and they just go nuts.

Some highlights shows include a live on stage show with Adam Savage, a greta interview with OZZY!, a post WWDC chat with a bunch of nerds, including the gizmodo dude who stole iphone (apple geeks will understand this whole thing) and Weird Al as a guest.

I am only about halfway through listening to all of them, but not one of them failed to make me luagh out loud.

Check out the Nerdist podcast.


One Monkey Toy.

Tap Tap Revenge.

SAeriously, a guitar hero like app forr iphone, ipod touch an d iPad? How do I get in on this. Now, with multi tasking, you can just background the thing when you get a call, right in the middle of a song and return to where you left off. This is geek sweetness at it's finest.


Wrap Party.

So, that was the weeek. Not much happened really, you know, the usual. I made a fool out of myself for your entertainment, listened to some good music (which was rather difficult since the stupid iPod nano has that shake to shuffle feature, which by the way knocks you out of pause/sleep mode, so if you do not very very very gently place your nano on the table, you may inadvertantly cause it to shuffle and wake up, there by draining the batteries and causing you to have to listen to the weirdos on the bus), and had a fun time with the internets.

Later, peepsicles.

Mea Culpa.

So, I have emberrassed myself greatly this week. One of the major drawbacks of trying to be a better angel is that I like to be open and communicate with the world. This blog is part fun, part fiction, part education, part sounding board, part soap box, and part therapy journal.

This past week I used it to lay my heart bare all over the internet. In a way, this is a major breakthru for me. I have, in the past been very guarded about me. I have said somethings, eluded to others. But I have never really laid my whole being on the line for others to read and judge.

For those wondering, the person I wrote all those nice things about rejected me. Yes, it broke my heart just a little bit. To be fair, it was expected, and we have done this dance before. I doubt we will be doing the dance again. I am giving up on her. I have to for my own sake. Some people think she is using me, toying with me. Some people think she is manipulating my emotions for her own sick pleasure. I would like to believe this is untrue. I would like to believe that for once I put my trust in someone and they didn't break that trust.


So, I spent much of my week spinning around in a haze. This led me to make a fool of myself, both in real life and in virtual land. I am truly sorry I melted down in front of you, it is so...undignified.

So, internet, I am sorry baby. I didn't mean it. You are still the one for me, please don't be mad.

So, sorry again for spewing my sadness and anger all over you and making you watch my train wreck.

In a sense it was good for me to do it though. It reminded me of something. I am better than this. Sometimes my self esteem is as fragile as anyone's and I can get down on myself and let things like this leak out in to the world.

Frankly, I am not half as bad as I came across this week, nor am I as bad as I think I am. When I am not feeling sorry for myself, I am smart and funny. As much as I like to hate people, I also love them. I want to help them. These are the things that make me a good person.

I care and am loyal and I am smart and I am funny. If some people don't want that, so be it.

Somedays I just like to smile and nod at chicks who continually walk the path of abuse. They go out with peoiple who make them feel small. Make them feel bad about who they are, then toss them when they are dried up and used to the fullest. It is people like me who pick them back up, dust them off and get them prepped for the next douche. If they can't see the value in people like me, it is their own short sighted blundering.
I am speaking of more than one person, in fact, I am speaking of a half dozen women I have met in the last few years. All of whom passed on what I had to offer the,. So be it.

In the end, I will always have you internet, and if you will take me back, you will always have me. I will be here to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you think, to pick you up when you fall down, to make you feel better about yourself, to drive you crazy, and to just sit and pass the time with.




yeah yeah, quick post, no editing again. I will be back tomorrow with a real post and such, I will even run spell checker.

Boo

I once wrote this fanciful little story about a dude who was followed around by ghosts. Not Casper the friendly ghost, and not necessarily angry poltergeists. It was a lame little thing that really went nowhere. I then tried to turn it in to a horror story, but the ending was too obvious the way I wrote it, so suspense was kind of lost.

I considered rewriting it here and now as a short story to drive a point home, but I am too tired for metaphor today.

I am too frustrated by myself to bother masking my emotions.

I recently went on a new age rampage about dreams and such. I told you all to try and dream. I am sorry for that.

I wrote all these flowery things about how the world can be a pretty place, but I am so wrong. I know you think this has to do with one thing, but you are wrong. That is merely a symptom of a greater disease.

We are all haunted by the things we have done. Some of us aren't haunted. Some of us merely ramble and shamble on because our ghosts are quiet.

Every once in a while a person comes in to your life whose ghosts are wearing chains, dragging other ghosts and wailing like banshees.

I am one of those people.

At a certain point you have to recognize what is and what is not. I have done so.

I tend to wish I was something that I am not. You pretend to be something for so long, you hope that you become it. This cool person I met this week remindedd me of the saying fake it till you make it. I realised today when I was trying to figure out a way to make this person a more permanent fixture in my life that I am who I have always been, yet noone knows it.

In case you are thinking I am on the path to infatuation with this woman, keep in mind she is one of those people whose thighs don't touch....which is just freaky. She's just one of those funny, sarcastic, caring people I like.

Anyway, the point is, I strip away the fake, and present to you the monkey. I so so because I am tired of pretending. I am tired of making a spectacle of myself. I am tired of hating me.

I have a shit ton of ghosts. I have been surrounded by sorrow all my life. I have done this before, but I have always lied. I have always eluded to things, and make no mistake, I have no interest in being specific right now. Suffice to say, by the time I was 10, several family members met violent ends.

By the time I was 15 sveral friends had met violent ends. By the time I was 22, everyone I had ever loved was gone.

If you think this is something you can just shrug off you are wrong. It stays with you. It forces you to question your value as a human being, and generally it is not good for someone in my position to think this way.

I hate myself.

More importantly I hate people.

I have been dissapointed by every human being I have ever come in to contact with.

I do not trust you.

I do not feel safe with you.

This is why I pretend.

I am not smart, I am cunning. The difference is, I can convince you of things, and I can manipulate. I cannot empathise. I cannot think logically, merely critically.

I cannot prethink. I can only post think.

I am lucky enough to be gifted with survival instincts that cause me to do what needs to be done in most situations, but that is all it is, instinct, not smarts.

I am a crappy writer. I am just not skilled enough to do it. My grade 7 english teacher was right. Can you believe I have done all of this in an attempt to give him the finger?

I hold grudges.

For twelve years I have tried to be that which I am not. I ttried to be one of you. I tried to like people. I tried to find love. I tried to find companionship. I tried to slice of my piece of the pie, but it ain;t gonna happen.

I hate people...a lot.

I am angry and full of rage.

Think of it this way, I can't trust a single human being.

Every last one of them has betrayed me in some fashion. Many because I had expectations that were unreachable.

It was nice of Chad to say I am not ugly, but he is wrong. I am disfigured, fat and not symetrical (by the way, if you want proof I am a bad writter, it is in that unparrelel sentence structure).

It is said by many an artist that beauty lies in symetry. This is true not only of art but also of attraction. my right side is bigger than my left. Part of it is due to my "accident" in childhood. This actually is what you see when you look at me, and why you dismiss me. I used to think it was my weight that mattered the most in this scenario. I would point to my youth as the reasoning. I didn't used to be this big. I always had hotties leaning on me.

I also always had a big sack of drugs and was a dangerous rebel type. Any guesses why I had a girlfriend?

In my life, I have never had a person want me for me. Not once.

Maybe it is because since Joe, no one has known me.

E was right though. E was always right. I am not now, nor have I ever been like you.

I am so tired of trying. I am so tired of pretending to like people. I am so tired of saying, oh how interesting.

I am so tired of wanting. I idealize every last one of you. I always think you like me, and then when I push the matter you puke in your fucking mouth.

Guess how angry that makes me.

Oh, so you are just being nice to me to get what you want from me, but the instant I ask for my needs to be met you walk away, or you act all surprised. I am tired of giving, and now I am going to take.

I am really not a very nice person.

It feels good to say these things. It feels good to finally say how I feel about people.

I tried to have a dream, and I filled it with half assed charaters who never fit the role I cast for them. It is on one hand unfair for me to have cast them in anything. It denies them their identity, and places restrictions on them that do not allow them to be them. It is unfair that they seemed to be one thing when they were not.

I am too tired to argue, too tired to fight, to tired to pretend anymore.

Did you know that I only write this stuff for a few people. People who don`t actually know the real me.

I think that is a horrible reason to pollute the internet. Like so many of my infatuations, nothing will ever come of it. I will always think it is more than it is.

If you want me to not get the wrong idea, stop feeding me. Stop pretending I matter in any way.

It is like the person I mentioned earlier. She told me about this one jerk hole, I also wrote about him the other day, he is an objectifier of women, won`t leave her alone and is a total douche. Thing is, she smiles at him and treats him with politeness and interest. Now, she has informed me she has zero interest in him as a human being and wishes he would go away. She smiles at me as well. Talks to me. Jokes with me. Yet inside she could be thinking this dude is an ass and I wish he would go away. This is the exact reason why I can`t figure out how to approach her.

This is the perfect metaphor for every other relationship I have ever had with either sex.

Sorry for making this public. I have this other friend. She has always known I am attracted to her. She has always known I want more than she gives me. It must kill her because she has no idea what signals she is sending that may be giving off this vibe to me that says it is ok to continue behaving the way I do. It must kill her to realise I am half of what she wants. I fit a good chunk of her desires, but I am also too far aqay in others for her to ever consider me in that way. I know this to be true, but I keep thinking she will change. She once told me that will never happen. It must hurt her something fierce to know I won`t either.

If it matters to you, I do hate that I hurt you.


I don`t like hurting the innocent, but to an extent, she is not innocent. She just doesn`t realise she isn`t innocent.

I can`t be friends with anyone. I have unrealistic expectations.

E was my last friend, and he is dead.

Today I resigned myself to a shitty existance. One with no future. An ordinary life lived in a way that will bring no harm to others.

Today, all ambition died, and I don`t care.

Meaningless encounters with people who don`t give a crap about me are preferable to the pain I continuely bring on myself.

So, if you aare a `friend,`and if you are reading this, you certainly consider yourself one, late, I am out.

I am going away now. I am going somewhere where no one knows my name. Where no one has expectations of me, because they know me not. It is in this that I can be me without fear of loss. I fear it so much, yet create it every turn I make.

I can no longer pretend to be what you need me to be. I am done pretending you are what I am looking for.

If you think this is sour grapes then you do not know me very well.

I am tired of wanting things I cannot have.

I am tired of trying.

No one seems to accept me when I let them in, so I am tired of opening myself up a little.

I am shutting down for good.

Fuck it as they say. I am so tired I am not even going to edit this bitch.

Canadian History X

People have grown very cynical about the media. Not cynical enough. I am starting this off by pulling back the curtain on something. I have never really spoken of this technique before, though it is accepted practice to do this. Some of you may have guessed this is being done.

Whenever you have something controversial to say, you line up someone to bring credibility to your argument. Usually this is done either in the form of the expert guest or one uses a streeter. A streeter is a caller or video of an average citizen.

The point is to soften the blow of what you are about to say, esspecially if it is politically incorrect or sterotypical, or even downright racist, by having someone from the group you are about to bad mouth either start the topic or agree with your assessment of the topic. It gives you free reign to say whatever it is you want. It is the media equivelant of saying "some of my closest friends are black."

I am sure you have seen it many times over the last few years. After the break we are going to talk to Ahmed, professor of Arab Studies at stuff university A, he'll tell us why it is a good idea to strip search every arab looking person who tries to board a plane. Oh ok, if Ahmed is cool with it, then it must be ok to talk about it.

Now, what happens if we replace Ahmed with Allan?

Think back a few years when the Dean of Harvard tried to bring light to the fact that women consistantly test low on math and science based testing. Rather than discussing this real issue, which has nothing to do with brain power, and possibly finding some solutions, all we talked about was how wrong it was for HIM to say it.

Flash forward two years, a famous female professor says the exact same thing, and for weeks we heard about socialization, focused teaching and tutoring issues in the middle school levels. It took us nearly two years to address the subject, merely because of the messenger.

So while I call it a cynical action on the part of the press, it is also a necessary delivery system....in some cases. It is necessary to have a discussion on some issues to bring them to light. In other cases it is merely window dressing for racism.

Now that we have laid a bit of groundwork, maybe I should get to the point.

This morning, on old white guy radio, a douche....errrr competant host, decided that it would be a great idea to bring light to the problem of gang violance in parts of Toronto. This has become, in his words of course, a serious problem in the black community. Shockingly, his first caller was obviously a black man with a heavy Jamaican accent.

Here;s the problem. He is way off base.

I am about to go out on a limb here and reveal a lot of information. Some of it could actually get me in some serious trouble, but I think it is important.

Toronto has had a gang problem for more than twenty years. I should know. I was part of the problem for 8 of those years.

Back in the late 80's and early 90's, the problem was mainly because of white sepremisist gangs. Three of them were running wild in Toronto. They were being supplied by biker gangs and the Italians. The big concern was the influx of certain cultural influences from the United States. You see, this was the New Jack City era. The time of Juice. The time of the glorification of gang culture.

In order to push back from what they feared, the organized criminal groups supported a bunch of diaffected young men and women.

These young white folks turned their hatred outwards. The worst offenders were the White Knights. They controlled a lot of territory in downtown. They were carved out a bunch of hoods by the Italians and the bikers. The Italian group wanted them to push the black gangs in the west end out, and the bikers wanted the core and harbourfront back.

Stuck in the middle of all this was the artist area. A bunch of laid back musicians and whatnot were stuck in the middle.

Violance was bound to happen. Several beatings and two murders happened in 1990. I was there for one of these. My friend Andre was killed by one of these groups. They decided to let me live because I was white. As you may understand, this pissed me off.

In the summer of 1990, and leading in to the fall, several houses and warehouses began to be burned to the ground. Suddenly the white surpremisists were getting beat something fierce. Their territory was shrinking. Two street level crews came to prominance downtown because of this. The DK and the Vanally Park Boys. The DK w2ere a bunch of pissed off disaffectedd youth influenced by a coupe of cultures. One was of course the NWA, public enemy sort of thing. The other was a punk culture. This anarchy laiden thing.

Anyway, violance insued as they fought each other for dominance. When things looked like they could not be controlled, the Italians stepped back in and Backed the Boys. The DK went the way of the bikers, which was a bit natural given the family ties some members had.

Everyone was fighting with the Triads. The Triads had the entire heroin trade sewn up. The bikers had amphetemines and the Italians had coke.

By 1998 things had exploded. The Italians had nearly wiped out the DK. The two survivors...well three, scattered to the winds.

Most of the violance west of Yonge street was blamed on the Vanally Park Boys because they were always getting caught jacking grandma.

The ineter gang violance though was always between the surrogates, the Italians rarely got dirty. The bikers took a hands off approach, offering only cheap product and all the wweaponry an army needed.

Anyway, my knowledge of what happened between 1998 and 2008 is somewhat sketchy. Bits and pieces.

What I can tell you is that, anyone who thinks gay people are pussies is an idiot. Anyone who thinks serbian gangs are acting on their own knows nothing about who actually controls things.

Flash forward to today. I assure you scarborough is not controlled by black gangs. They are the tools of two people fighting it out on a national level.

The bikers and the Italians are at it again. My brother is a victrim of this to some extent. You see he was living a lie. A lie he couldn't live with anymore. He was playing both sides. No one knew he was old school biker tool. Her was partnered with the mob on his business ventures and the old school ties might have gotten him killed if anyone found out.

The point I am making is that the violance has a source. It rarely is what you think it is. The thing that causes this behaviour is always poverty, family disorder, abuse, and drugs. The players on the street level change, but it is always the poor and disaffected. They are used and abused by the organizedd crime factors in any given environment, just as they are in the military.

How many rich people do you think are infantry grunts? Same thing on the front lines of urban warfare.

The problem I had with what doucheman had to say is that he blamed all the violance on the lack of black fathers. Seriously, I am not kidding.

What hurts is that he is correct to a certain extent. Positive, strong male role modeling is one cause of the problem. Remove the need to prove oneself, to medicate oneself, the define oneself in a way that provides some center of control and esteem and you remove the canvas chicken hawks have to paint on.

It is the people who get rich of the crime of the streets; the ones who provide the set with the moral authroity to break the rules are the real problem.

There is no way to treat this problem by attacking the source of this misuse of our youth. The powerful will always protect themselves. What we need to do is remove the incentive and motivation of the youth.

We are far beyond blame at this point. Saying it is the fault of boys having children is to deny the reality that we as a society have the power to correct this.


If we provide the proper rolemodeling, we make a difference. Yelling at those who are not doing the job merely allows those that are providing it to continue to steal our youth. We say to a deadbeat dad, or an absentee, or abusive parent. We tell them that it is their fault. We tell them to step up. We rarely provide them the tools needed. All we do is make them feel worse.

While our eyes are diverted to a symptom of the problem, the chicken hawks swooop in and become the role models. The chicken hawks whisper in the ears of our youth that they can be strong and powerful, they just have to do everything they are told. Then daddy gives them some new toys to play with.

Where are the role models. Where are the real men and women who can step up? Where are the people who can give their time, their experience to our kids. They are our kids. Like it or not, we have them, and we need to do something with them.

All I heard this morning from a frightenedd little man was we need to blame bad parents and punsih the kids more harshly. At no point did this person take any responsibility for perpetuating a system the creates the poverty and socia disease that ferments in our youth. At no time did he step up and say, we need to do something. He merely said we need to blame everyone who doesn't look like us.

I suppose you can try treating cancer by cutting it out. Sooner or later it comes back. Until we develop a cure for it, we need to irradiate it, and we need to reduce carcinogen consumption.

We need to treat our kids as if they mkatter, and we need to step in front of them and show them there is a way; a better way.

Or we can just get a black man to say other black men are to blame. This should make us feel better until we can move out of the neighborhood.