Badoom Tshh

Do I win a prize for being the 1234th visitor to this site?
Darn right I do.
I get to meet the writer!!! Autograph session --and I even get to wear his pants. Oh Em GeE!!!11


Jealous?

Yeah...me neither.

A Dented Confidence.

It hurt a little.

...that's not a great place to start. Let's back up.



I was working at Safeway on Saturday. I drove to work so I could go straight from there to a friends house to help him record a song. Now, this van I'm driving doesn't have power steering. My dad has taken it in to get fixed several times, but they kind of shake their heads the way only brown people can, and with a sorry smile, they say "No, we won't fix this." Why not? "It's too difficult." It's too difficult? Usually they charge more, not piteously smile and shake their head. But what can you do? I will just pretend I've actually got the muscle to steer the van. (I think I've actually lost muscle over time. I'll blame this on the fact that I'm now living on my own, and when we run out of food, we'll usually go a week longer than we should before buying groceries. Starvation saves money, after all! Try it sometime!) So all this to say, that when I drive to work, there's only a select few parking spots that I can actually park in. Fortunately, today it's available. So I strain and pull and twist and struggle into the parking spot. I try to make sure no one can see me do this because they will clearly think that I'm having a stroke, or that I'm drunk, all hunched over the steering wheel. I try to keep a composed face, like I'm the coolest mini-van-driving-guy ever, you know?

I go into work, and proceed to hate life a little more every minute until I realized I've reached an unhealthy level of depression, so I take a break. Since I've only been at work for, oh, say..twenty minutes, I decide to make it a short one and call a friend. I sit outside the front of Safeway and chat. I randomly take a look at my car which is about 30 feet away.

"Hey...sorry, I gotta run. Yeah they need me to get back to work...Mhmm. Talk to you later. C ya."

Oh but I'm not going back inside. I've noticed something. On the back window of my car, someone has written something in the dust, and it doesn't seem to say "clean me." I casually walk a few steps closer, only getting close enough to read it. I mean, if it says "Hey Josh, you're a cool guy!" then there's no need to go over there and wipe it off or anything, right? But as I wander over, I finally make out the letters. It reads "ASS HOLE! " clear as freaking day. I stop in my tracks about 6 parking spots away, and look around as casually as I could in such a stressful and traumatic situation. No one seems to have psychically realised that I must be the guy who drives that van, so for now I'm safe.

I realised I needed to get this writing off. However, there is an old lady slowly walking towards my car, and it would be terribly embarrassing should she see me smudging it off the window. She'd pass by and yell "Young Punk! Don't be an asshole!" and then she'd report me to Safeway for being uncool. So I slowly walked behind her as she inched along. To the average passerby, I must have looked totally suspicious: with a pained expression on my face, following an old lady to the edge of the parking lot.

Just my luck, she opens the trunk of the car beside mine. Great. What now? And she totally sees me awkwardly standing 3 feet away from her, my eyes darting back and forth between ASS HOLE! and old lady. ggyyaahh....awkwarrrd.

It's decision time, I thought. I casually leaned up against the window of my car, looking slightly up into the sky, as if resting momentarily before continuing to a more respectable and cleaner vehicle that must be mine further along the row. And with deft skill of a deft, skilled fox, I swiped my elbow across the window, did a 180, and headed back into Safeway. HA! I thought I handled the whole situation pretty well.

I'll never know why someone felt the need to write such profanity and underline it. I think it was due to the power steering issue. I wasn't right in the middle of the parking spot. DEFINITELY not over the yellow line, but impolitely crowding the car next to me. But it's not even worth the effort to try and fix it. I'll tell you what, though...

It hurt a little.

He may not have dented my car, but he dented my confidence for the moment.

Come on! I try here. Sorry you bought too many groceries to fit them in your trunk, and so you had to use the back seat. Sorry you have a car with such massive doors and it made it difficult to get the groceries in without getting your soft new jacket dirty on my van. But no seriously, sorry about your new Jacket: It was ugly before it got dusty, anyways.

After work, I walked out to my car, and realised that after all my deft-skilled-fox-moves, I had missed the writing with my elbow while looking at the sky. As I stood there shaking my head at my poor coverup job, some guy walked by, his eyes darting back and forth between ASS HOLE! and my dejected figure. He laughed. Busted.

Spicy Song Of The Week

Checking this blog this week probably invoked the same emotion as logging into facebook and seeing no glowing white '1' in your inbox. I know, right? Worst feeling ever. And no matter how many times you hit 'refresh' this week for my blog, (almost) nothing happened. That is my fault. School is actually taking up time this year. I studied, too (I went to the library, and realised there were no white people). Don't hold it against me though, because this new Spicy Song of the Week is awesome and a half.

In My Teeth
Manchester Orchestra
Mean Everything To Nothing

This band opened for Silversun Pickups, and completely stole the show. Their radio single is 'I've Got Friends.' I reccomend Shake It Out, but wasn't able to upload it for some reason[EDIT: NOW UPLOADED TO PLAYLIST]...(There's also a new player at the bottom...and it plays automatically. It'd be awesome if you are reading this at work on in class and scrolled right down to the bottom...surprise!)

Anyways

The lead singer is like 250 lbs and has a massive head and beard of red frazzled hair. You half expect him to come trumbling out of the woods with a dead deer over one massive shoulder, and a can of gasoline in the other hand. Why gasoline? In case he gets thirsty, I assume. Or to light you on fire for not dancing to his songs. But here's the kicker. He's actually got this high pitched kiddish voice, which makes him a huge teddy bear, right? The keyboardist is black, tripping out on stage (and yet i'm 100% sure he wasn't on anything) and the drummer was bursting with originality. Listen to it loud...in fact, make everyone listen to it with you. Please go into the library with a stereo and blast this song at top volume. I think it would sound best there.

Some quick pointers: They are not an orchestra. And they are not from Manchester. So erase your expectation and prepare to be blown away.

Grr.

Freaking blogger isn't working right, and I'm angry with it. I'm giving it the silent treatment. But we're all the victims here.

The Power of New Socks

Did you know, that there is one feeling that can stop war, make enemies friends, get mustard stains out of jeans, and cause me to cartwheel uncontrollably?

This feeling is so powerful. It's uplifting, like church music. It kills camels--yes, that good.


This feeling is the feeling of NEW SOCKS. I once bought 24 pairs of new socks, and for that whole month, I got to wake up, shower, and put on a brand new pair of black, low-cut socks. I don't know what it is...The never-before-stretched elastics? Is it the (lack of) smell? The way the slide effortlessly across my floors? Well, dear friends, the answer is: all of the above.


And here's the kicker. You'll probably do better on tests, go for longer walks, and make more friend. It's just a proven fact that wearing new socks increases your chances of everything good happening to you!


Do yourself a favor. Go buy some new socks. You'll thank me later.

Go solve the world's problems, Obama! You can do it with NEW SOCKS!

Facebook can be really dumb

I've started cutting people out of my newsfeed on facebook. It's the people who love their boyfriends/girlfriends to death and feel the need to tell everyone and have long conversations with each other about who is more amazing. It's the people who play that farming game. It's the people who post photos of them and their love smiling or kissing or cuddling. Seriously, people, that's going too far. I don't need to log into facebook in class and everyone around me is thinking "WHAT is he looking at?". That's embarrassing. For me and for these clingy couples. Let me Facebook in peace.

Now, I don't mind the occasional "WOW i'm dating a cool person" status, 'cause it's good to know that there are happy people out there... but let's keep it short (and G-rated).

Aight?


Check this link out for another example of cringe-worthy facebooking.

Spicy Song Of The Week

I hung out with a lot of new people this week, and it was good times. New people is big on my list, and with new classes and new clothes, some new music was in order. Jon introduced me to The Kooks, which is a band that many people have probably heard, but couldn't identify. It's pretty happy music, reflective of my mood. So hopefully, this song helps me share my mood with those of you who like school not so much.

Naive
The Kooks
Inside in Inside Out

Good mood, why? Well because... there's this girl.

And she knows my name.

The Silver Rule and Musical Sandwiches

I wouldn't want to mess with the oh-so-very-true Golden Rule (don't screw with people, just cuz), so we'll consider this one the Silver Rule.

If you ask someone what kind of music they like, and they answer "everything", this actually means "everything but country".

Because, just so we're clear, Country Music is not music. Suuuree, they write some actually decent and poetic lyrics and even the music videos can have some artistic merit, and half the singers are considered hot by the average person....but that's like throwing together mayo, bananas, croutons, chilli and the random container of left overs that's been in the back of the fridge for too long and you're like "hey...was this from christmas?" and he's like "no we had ham at christmas, the turkey was from thanksgiving" and you're like "but it's yellow and blue now. not like turkey." and he's like "yeah, i dunno. just leave it there in case it comes in handy when we need to prank the neighbour for being too loud, or use it at some truth or dare party which we frequently throw." all into the same sandwich and chowing down: all those things certainly have value (even the mystery meat), and can be used in the right ways, but lets leave the food preparing to the experts -- i.e., anyone else.

So back off, country musicians, and let the other genres make the musical sandwiches. And if anyone dare say otherwise, YOU can eat the back-of-the-fridge delight. I dare you. (see it's value, now? A threat!)

As a side note, our neighbours are not too loud. In fact, we don't see or hear enough of them. As I was playing guitar on the steps today, singing away, a girl from next door walked over, beer in hand, and simply said "i'm coming to listen." She sat down, and I said, "cool...i'll play you a new song i've been working on." and then I did. Then we had a really nice talk about ranchlands, and a band called Kids Playing Heroes that we both coincidentally are friends with. Why can't things like this happen more often? This made my day.

=
Country Music

Today, I was Biking.

And no joke, a wasp flew in my mouth. But I didn't know it was a wasp until after. I was biking along, and it had been a long day. So I let loose an audible monster-yawn to let my neighborhood exactly how tired I was. (Yes, they need to know). Unfortunately, the winds caught this bug just right, and he flew into my mouth, storming around, and probably not enjoying the small space and relatively smelly atmosphere.


The best part was my reaction seen from afar by an old lady walking her dog:


YAWWWWWWNNNNN-----ahhckckckkckopppfffpfppftttt ---toooey!

I ziggzagged across the road, coughing and spluttering, and she had no idea why. Then she saw me spit something, shake my head, and carry on my way.

Or maybe the perspective of the cutish girl getting out of her car was more memorable. Just as I had finished gargling the still unknown bug, the girl opened her door and got out of her car. Timed quite perfectly, she probably saw me casually spit as I passed by. But it was unpolitely close to her, and she looked down to see a dead wasp hit the ground. No doubt she went inside to tell her housemates about this hardcore biker who spits wasps. who spits wasps, after all? Hard core bikers, I guess.

But I'll have you know, there was nothing hard core about this. Wasps taste TERRIBLE! Bitter, actually. Bitter like Scrooge on Christmas Eve. Bitter like Josh on a Camel in Morocco:


I know, right?


I'm just glad it didn't sting my tongue or anything.

Then I'd have to bite back.

First Day of School

So what am I, 21 years old now? Gosh, Josh, that's getting up there.

As we jump back into the 'real world', I've made a few observations.

First of all, I sincerely think the TA is getting extra close with the prof. They have these moments where the prof asks the TA to answer a question (since no one in the class speaks up on the first day), and after he does, they just gaze at each other for a slightly extended period of time, smiling. She may have bitten her lip.


awkwarrrdd.

Also, you're destined to run into people you haven't seen in a long time. Some of them you know fairly well, others might be friends you made from last years classes...either way, you'll be walking North, they'll be walking South, and you'll suddenly catch their eye. There are now two options. Some of you might squeal with glee at seeing them and run into their arms flinging books and bags to the ground in a passionate embrace.

If you're normal, however, you will probably be like.. oh..crap. did they see me? and did they see me see them? yeah...i think they did. now i can't pretend i didn't see them too. hoookay, here we go. You'll both carefully look at each other and smile at the same time, and walk towards each other. But here's where it gets tricky, right? Do you stop? Or do you just high five them/wave/say hi in passing? So the strategy is to slow down to a very casual walking pace, and read their body language.

If they also slow down, then they understand that there is the possibility that they might have to stop too (and they're open to the idea of it). This is a good sign, because it means they aren't totally unhappy to have ran into you. And then just as you are about 3 feet away from them, you'll no doubt make this move that I've seen countless times today. You'll actually half pass them, but then look behind you/to the side. If they've reciprocated this action, then you'll both turn fully towards each other and stop.

Once it's progressed this far, you're on your own. Good luck with that.

Other advice: It's so totally uncool to have to turn around. If you're walking down the hall, and suddenly realise you can't go on without a coffee, or you forgot your bag, or your going to the wrong class....I'd reccomend plotting a route that allows you to turn around without actually backtracking. I don't know...this is just what seems to be the norm. I'm just the messenger. Because every time someone turns around as if to finally admit their lost, they ALWAYS curse under their breath and look around nervously to see who noticed.


Don't sit in the front row. i know, i know, it's cliche. But seriously, no one in the front row makes friends, and they don't get privelleged information for being close. They probably just get spit on by the frothing prof.

oh and don't stress. It's all gonna be okay. On the first day of grade one, my mom forgot to pick me up after school. I waited out front until the principal was on his way home. he noticed me and called my mom.

"Hi Karen, your son is still here."

"Where? Who is this?"


Yeah I was a touch bitter when she finally showed up. So, relax. If this doesn't happen, then you're in good shape.

Ok, good chat.

it's 2am

An hour ago, in a coughing fit, I took some Nyquil.


Hey guess what.

I didn't work.

I'm still wiiiide awake. Gotta get up for work in 3 hours.

Spicy Song Of The Week

Summer is pretty much on it's way out. the overwhelming color outside today is grey. I'm sorry to be so grim. But let's just use this as an opportunity to reflect back over the highlights of the summer. Here's some of mine (in one word):

Coldplay
Vancouver
Shows
Stampede
Lindsey
TheBurningofFeet <<---one word. FST Kids Frizollie Camping Shopping It wasn't my favourite summer by far, but all in all, it was pretty cool. It all really started with Coldplay. My earliest blog posts are tagged with Coldplay. So as a final bookend to this summer, the Spicy Song Of The Week is my favorite recording of a Coldplay song ever.

A Glass Of Water [Live]
album:
LeftRightLeftRightLeft

I remember a time when all I could do was listen to this album and sing and dance and wonder what the heck I was doing with life. This song will forever remind me of the good times of this summer. With It's chaotic rhythms and the intensity that only comes across in this live recording (I don't like the studio version at all), it sings to me, specifically. Thanks Chris Martin. I've heard you calling out to me. Cheers.

It's Been A While. I've Missed You.

Okay, so this post will quickly summarize my last week. why? Because if I just skipped over the seemingly meaningless events of the last seven days of my life and then next week i wrote a post all about this crazy gorgeous girl who came up to me and said "hey, that is one sweet jacket! You wanna hang out tonight?" you'd all be like "hold on Josh...what jacket is this? why weren't we informed?" and i would feel bad because the artistic measure of this blog would fall based on my inability to properly foreshadow my conversation with said gorgeous girl. so. are we on the same page?


First of all, i'm still sick. friiiick. Last time I was sick was May. The WHOLE month of May, too. I can't do that again. I have now taken:

Echinacea
NeoCitran
Advil
Nyquil
Vitamin C
Halls
and the aforementioned unmarked pills.

Quade has more medicine than one person should ever need. Ever.

But my slow death is not keeping me at home. Last week, I went shopping for new clothes. Hold on....that needs to be emphasize a little more.

LAST WEEK, I, JOSHUA MANERIKAR, BOUGHT NEW CLOTHES!

I never do this. I never go 'shopping' for 'clothes.' I may wander the mall, enter stores, pick out different shirts, pants, shoes, and the like, but I'll never try it on, and unless its a red t-shirt, I won't buy it. It's depressing. I used to shop with my mom. She'd pick out all this stuff and I'd be like 'mooooommm...seriously.' And then I'd try it on and 93.4% of the time, I'd love it.

Then I would go shopping with Leslie. Which means I paid for it. So I would never buy as much. But Leslie would pick stuff out and I'd be like "Okay." No argument. If she liked it that was good enough, since I didn't much care. It's not that I didn't want to look good. I just never knew what DID look good on me. I never see anyone out there in the world that reminds me of me, so I never have a fashion role model.

Enter Brynn from stage left, Jon from stage right. That's right. They surrounded me. Bombarded me. FORCED me to go shopping. (that's not really true). We went to the supposedly fantastic new mall north of Calgary, and the battle began.

Interruption: I will be paying for school this month, I was hoping to have a second job downtown by now, and bills are due. Hmm? Oh, no reason.....totally irrelevant information...continue.

"Hey Josh. So here's how this is gonna work. I'm going to hand something to you," said Brynn, "and you are going to put it on. Okay?"

"Aight." She has no idea how hopeless this mission is, I thought.


They gave me things like pink t shirts, and v neck sweaters.

Hold on, I'm Josh, and I don't do V-neck. Why? Because I'm not this guy

This guy sports the V-neck and skinny Jeans. He listens to screamo and has a girlfriend who threatens to run away from home because her dad won't let her get her tongue pierced. This guy's room is always a mess and he writes sad lyrics on tiny scraps of paper. He probably likes his mini-wheats soggy, too.

I'm not that guy.

Hold on said brynn. We aren't done.
And she handed me a white button up shirt and then I was this guy:


Well--besides the whiteness and the jockiness, and the "I'm probably an ass in real life-ness"

But Frick, I thought. I don't know what guy I am. And if awesomely cool people like Brynn and Jon think this looks good, then I suppose other awesomely cool people I'm sure to meet will also like this. So, screw it. I'll try something new.

Then I bought another t-shirt, and Jon picked out a long sleeve shirt and jacket. Everybody loved it. It was probably about $200 all together. That part, I loved not so much.

That night, we went out to a show at a coffee house, and I saw this girl. She worked there. (I know right? ANOTHER coffee girl.) I was wearing my new jacket, and so I was pretty hot. Not "good looking hot", necessarily, but it was toasty in the coffee shop. And I caught her eye, and she smiled (very pretty smile) and walked towards me......Oh I'm not even going to finish this story. It's as anti-climactic now as it would be at the end of the story.

Whatever.

FST:

Free Spaghetti Thursday was a mini-success. Mini because there weren't a lot of people here. Success because that's what I wanted, and the people were 100% quality. A few randoms from a previous show (so we played them some tunes that night), and friends of friends. Good times, top notch noodles. There's now a facebook group, so it's freakin official. Search :Free Spaghetti Thursdays.


Guys. It's Sunday. School is on Tuesday. Who will run away to Mexico with me and forget all the troubles we know we are up against this semester? Like...Who's going to shovel my sidewalk when it snows. And all the money I can't afford to spend on hot London Fogs and Chai Teas once I bike to school in the cold early morning.

PS. Side note. We emailed Pilot Speed asking if we could open for them for their calgary show on October 3rd. Todd personally replied! He said no, there's too many bands that night to add another, and that he'd check out our songs! AMAZING. Could that have gone any better?

.......

*Star struck*

My [below] average train of thought.

Setting the scene: I've just left the safeway parking lot, driving home after buying some NeoCitran for my cough.

> I'm so sick, I feel like death

>Hey look, there's some popcorn spilled on the road.

>Mmmm. popcorn.

>I want some popcorn.

>I should watch a movie, then.

> I'll rent 'Death At a Funeral.'

And then I did....fairly entertaining, not entirely unpredictable, but the acting was pretty impressive.

Cheesy titles aside, you gotta love the Cochrane Times.

This was written in the Cochrane Times about my band's upcoming music video...

Taking A Backwards Route Into Filmmaking
By Sara Francis

Trying to imitate the feel of Iceland here in Alberta will pose an interesting challenge for a new young Cochrane filmmaker.

Eric Weisner is shooting a music video for the new rock band Walking Backwards based on a song two of the band members wrote after visiting Iceland, an island country located in the North Atlantic Ocean.

Cochrane High grads Weisner and Walking Backwards guitarist Darcy Cordell have been friends since attending Cochrane’s Holy Spirit Elementary School together. And while they went in slightly different directions, their paths converged to work on this project.

“It was a perfect time to collaborate,” said Weisner, 21, who graduated from the Vancouver Film School this August.

This will be Weisner’s first big independent project outside of film school.

The song “Lost” is about escapism — something lead band members Cordell and Josh Manerikar did for four months last fall. They traveled through parts of Europe, Africa and Asia with their first stop being Iceland.

“The song mostly just talks about getting away, escaping,” said Manerikar, 21. “It’s more focused on the feel you get from the song — the big emptiness captures Iceland very well. It’s huge, but it’s not because you are seeing so much, it’s the lack of what you are seeing that impacts you so much.”

Weisner plans to capture the calm, serene feeling the musicians experienced by focusing on nature such as a stream trickling by or the grass blowing in the wind.

“I have a feeling it will seem like it’s taking place in Alberta, but it’s more the feeling and intrinsic part of Iceland we want to communicate with people.

“Iceland is a barren place so we won’t be shooting in big cities or in big forests. We’ll be shooting the rolling sky and to get the vast infinite expanding feeling of Iceland as opposed to the actual physical characteristics of Iceland,” said Weisner.

While Weisner has never been to Iceland himself, he is confident he’ll be able to capture the mood based on the pictures and stories the two musicians shared with him.

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“It’s a very isolated country and it has so much open space you can sort of feel lost even though you are in such a small place,” said Weisner.

The budget for the project is next to nothing. Weisner plans to get video equipment and props donated based on his connections.

“When you get out of film school you have to rely on who you know and what you can do with what you have available,” said Weisner. “You have to work with whatever you have available around you as opposed to starting with a vision and making that vision happen.”

This week the band will meet for pre-production to confirm actors, hammer out shots and select locations around the Cochrane area and south of Bragg Creek.

The shoot should take no more than five days and then Weisner will take the film with him to Vancouver to edit. Everything should be finished and put up on video sharing sites such as UTube and Vimeo in a month.

Weisner plans to enter the music video in film festivals and TV stations such as Much Music and MTV.

“We can push the Canadian content side of things and try to get it aired,” said Weisner.

While Weisner plans to pursue his film career in Vancouver he hopes to visit Cochrane often and do some more projects out this way.

“It’s got a beautiful landscape and people I know who can donate equipment,” he said.

Meaningless Facebook Chat

ah the random meaningless conversations that are only possible through facebook chat.

Life....oh that four letter word.

This post is all about home.


So I've spent the last few days mind-numbingly sick. Quade forced some random unmarked pills down my throat today, so hopefully by tomorrow i'll be feeling a bit better.


And yet in spite of my deathly sickness, i've been in a really good mood. Part of it is because when I went to bed at 8:30pm last night, it was dark. Like Winter-Style. It's coming guys. sorry. but it is. I'm not at all ready for the snow and wind, but i like the dark. It makes the house feel warmer, the indoor lights shine brighter. Sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows: no thanks. NEEDING a hot cup of tea as soon as I stumble in from the biting cold...mmm.

I'm also in a good mood because I'm feeling good about my situation right now. After an interesting and inexplicable weekend of viewing life in a more long term and "anything is possible" and "where will I be in three years" kind of way, I realised that , I could name four friends who had called me, talked to me, messaged me, or texted me in the last 12 hours. and quade was happily playing a new song he had written downstairs. Tonight, I thought, i'm happy. I can't try and predict where I'll be or what I'll be doing in even a year. I'm in school (with a degree in mind), i'm in a band (which has only recently become a very positive experience), and I'm attempting to meet new people and get a 'real' job. I'm even writing music again. That's good enough for now....if only I could stay healthy. Pass the unmarked medication.


Wait...hold on. I have to back up the part where I said I've been in a really good mood. Scratch that. I've only been in a really good mood when I'm at home. Every day when I go to Safeway, I suddenly get extremely bitter and frustrated about everything. My co-workers are now seeing a side of me that I didn't even know I had. I don't exactly know why EVERYTHING is sending me into an angry rage, but I don't like it. I'm usually the happy carefree guy. not the guy who throws a half box of asparagus across the cooler into the garbage because someone couldn't bother to put out a WHOLE box of asparagus. you can ALWAYS put out the whole box of asparagus! And why did Bob (the manager) order 7 cases of CABBAGE? CABBAGE!! It'll take weeks to sell that much! GYAH!

brreeaaaattthhheee...


but as soon as I get home and hear Quade telling lame jokes and watch Darcy crunching the latest financial statistics about how much money we are spending, I can relax. West Swine Nile flu or not, I'm living a good life....for now.

Spicy Song Of The Week

Last week was a female singer/songwriter, and this week is too. But don't think that it was MY choice. I just follow the orders of the all-powerful Spicy Song Of The Week gods.

Either way, I hope you enjoy the song "Help I'm Alive" by Metric. It's a touch over played, but I really like how they produced it in studio.


Click here to hear it, or check out the bottom of the page!

I just discovered this comic today!

Free Spaghetti Thursdays

Hold Everything. I'm declaring this a momentous moment! I have created something everyone needs to know about.
Starting in September, I shall stake a sign in the front of my lawn, and once they read it, it shall attract many people city-wide.

It Shall Read

Free Spaghetti Thursday

BYOB (bring your own bowl)

Everyone welcome

This is my attempt to meet new people. I can throw up posters everywhere. They don't have to be fancy. Not even the spaghetti has to be fancy (though everyone knows I make a Prime Plate of Pasta). Eventually, I'll have my friend’s friends bringing People out for a fire Pit, Poker, and Pasta.

Maybe I'll set up a donation jar. Maybe we'll play some songs for them.

Maybe we'll also serve garlic bread.

You won't know unless you come.

Who is Hellen Keller?

A model who has a unique walk...i think.

Besides the obvious depressing fact that people are asking this question and even worse, answering it like this^^, the comments on the post are equally amusing. I laughed, you will too.

Free Pizza

For all my countless readers who own a Camaro, it should be noted that this wednesday, you can get a free pizza at Papa Johns by showing your keys.

Consider it pity pizza.

Just kidding.

But seriously.

Frizollie

Josh, Darcy, Marya, and Lena have invented a new game. Here are the rules:


Frizollie is played on a volleyball court (preferably on sand) with a Frizbee (referred to as a Frizolliebee). Two people on each team, three maximum.

Team A will serve the Frizolliebee under the net and attempt to have it land beyond the back boundary of the court. Doing so is considered a point, and Team A will maintain possession and continue to serve. Should Team B catch the Frizolliebee before it touches the ground while standing inside the boundary, the frizolliebee is returned over the net in rally fashion, attempting to have the frizolliebee touch the ground on opposite team's side. Should either team accomplish this, they are rewarded one point and possession.

If a serve goes over the net or lands out of bounds off to the side, or hits the ground inbounds, possession goes to other team.

If a serve hits the net, there is a race to the frizolliebee for possession.

games are played to 15, win by two.

Happy Monday

Goodness knows I'd rather still be out camping. However, since we're all here, then we're all in this together. So I've gone ahead and created a new facet* to this blogging experience:

Spicy Song of The Week.


Spicy because it'll put a little zest in your day.

Spicy because that's how you like it.

The Spicy Song of The Week is Ingrid Michaelson: The Hat

Oh Em Gee I love this song. She certainly has a way with words, and makes up wonderfully for her name with a sweet voice. I have a voice crush. And it is she.

*Still under construction. To be updated every Sunday. Currently at bottom of page.

I want to be more like this tea.

Hakuna Matata

Pumbaa: Hey, Timon, ever wonder what those sparkly dots are up there?
Timon: Pumbaa, I don't wonder; I know.
Pumbaa: Oh. What are they?
Timon: They're fireflies. Fireflies that, uh... got stuck up on that big bluish-black thing.
Pumbaa: Oh, gee. I always thought they were balls of gas burning billions of miles away.
Timon: Pumbaa, with you, everything's gas.

I didn't have any plans today.

So I decided to relax and eat a BC peach.





Now I'll be busy cleaning up the kitchen all day.

Silversun Pickups!

Despite the fact that I couldn't convince anyone to go with me, I went to Silversun Pickups a few days back. Being a very influential band and definitely in my top 6, I couldn't miss the opportunity.

I love/hate (It's complicated) how some bands come on stage: Without any intro music, preliminary cheering or buildup. They slink onstage in the dim glow of the few lights left on to remind the anxious crowd that there is indeed a concert tonight, and that they haven't forgotten. The band will pick up their guitars and launch into their first song like an office worker on his way to his cubicle first thing in the morning. They don't smile or jump around. It reminds me that this is their job. But instead of toting coffee mugs they bring guitars. and instead of filling out forms, they add drum fills. It is their job to lose their souls and their minds to the song...to the show. They answer to someone and there is little job security.

But when they hit that opening chord, it doesn't matter one bit because while people might pat you on the back for a job well done in an office, here at the concert, they will be screaming your name and cheer you on, losing their minds and souls with you when you are on stage.


So liven up a little, rock stars. It may be your job, but it's far from a bad one. If you aren't going to look like you're having fun, you are as replaceable as the interns working for ATCO. When the show gets going, put some heart into it.


Silversun Pickups write great songs, but since they are an artificial group created in a studio in LA, they have zero passion and feeling. they're a business project. I was slightly more than disappointed. When I saw Wintersleep (also in my top 6), I realised that the music was far better when it pertained to MY life and MY problems and MY experiences. Not watching them play the songs.

Billy O in one conversation

This is my post in honor of Billy O, who has put in his 2 weeks notice at Safeway (good on ya, lad). He is a regular stoner and aspiring lawyer. He never worked too hard and didn't hear half of what anyone said to him, but because his name is Billy O and he rode to work on a longboard, he was well liked. The following conversation with our assistant produce manager defines him:

Lynn: Billy O, you didn't fill the bananas before you went home last night, so i had to do it this morning.

BillyO: What was that?

Lynn: Billy O, you didn't fill the bananas before you went home last night, so i had to do it this morning.

Billy O: Well I was busy working on the apples.

Lynn: Well you know it's my biggest pet peeve here when bananas are empty in the morning.

Billy O: Well you know it's my biggest pet peeve to fill bananas, so what are we going to do about that?

Why are we here?

2 Things

First, I've set up a subscription service to these posts. All you have to do is click HERE

and then these posts will go straight to your inbox. That way you don't have to go looking for them. They will come to you!


SECOND,
Darn. I forget. I guess just read the first one again. Sorry.

The Pants Situation

I'm the kind of guy who buys something and then keeps it until

A) I lose it
B) I break it
C) Brynn decides to purge my room and throw it out (this happens approximately once in 21 years)

So when I buy a pair of jeans from bootlegger in 2006, you can assume I'm wearing them right on through 2009. They are my rock star jeans, and I love wearing them for shows.

However, They've become increasingly tattered and torn. What started out as a edgy hole in the knee has slowly escalated to a white trash gap. It's a little much.

So now what?

Do I go buy a pair of Jeans and wait for a new hole to form? Or do I make my own hole? There's some sort of strange taboo about wrecking new clothes for style. I never really cast my vote either way on this debate, but from my uncomfortable position (with one overly cold kneecap), it seems totally reasonable to buy a decent pair of jeans and "customize them." No?

A man decided to go for a walk

since it was a really nice day. He called out to his pet centipede who was upstairs.

"Hey Centipede! Let's go for a walk!"

A couple minutes went by, and there was no response.

"Hey Centipede! Let's go for a walk!!"

Still no response, the man was getting impatient.

"HEY CENTIPEDE! LET'S GO FOR A WALK!"

The centipede yells back:

"Take it easy! I'm putting on my shoes!!"

Honestly, people.

There is a difference between yams and sweet potatoes.



Let's examine, shall we?

People come into Safeway and tell me "Psshh...same thing!"


NO.

Not true.

One important point to begin with is that they do look quite different. Yams are grown on a vine and are also known as tubers. Some have grown as long as five feet. On the other hand, the sweet potato is grown in the earth and does in fact resemble a potato but it is only distantly related to the potato.

Sweet Potatoes: light and fluffy...like mashed potatoes and yummier.
Yams: harder and yammier.

geez.

Get it straight.

My Birthday Weekend

This is going to be a black diamond post in length. If you can navigate yourself to the bottom of it without getting stuck in a tree, falling over the edge of an abyss, or getting eaten by a hungry grizzly who realized that black diamond trails fell skiers by the dozens and they can just walk up and grab an injured one...then you clearly are not ADHD. Congrats.

(If you do not feel like reading it here’s the short version: Darcy and I went into interior BC with no plan, no supplies, and no shoes. But we did bring our guitars. We hitchhiked with stoner truck drivers, ate watermelon for free, burnt our feet beyond recognition (literally, toe prints were missing), and ate little more than trail mix and spinach dip. We slept outside and froze, and played guitar on the highway. How was your weekend?)

Here we go.

Random Friend: Hey Josh, I hear it's your birthday this weekend. What do you have planned?

Me: Actually, I'm going off into the wilderness with nothing more than my guitar and some spinach dip this weekend. Darcy will probably come too, since there’s spinach dip.

RF: Uhh...okay. I've always wanted to be on the news. (mockingly) "Josh was a great guy. Too bad he’s gone forever."

Me: Haha...see ya next week....maybe.



And then I left. And this is the story of what happened:

For the last three years, I've done epic things for my birthday. I turned 18 in Rome, 19 camping in BC, and 20 in Hofn Iceland. You don't even know where that is.

This year, since I’ve just moved out and am trying to save for school, I didn't have such a grand far away adventure planned. In fact, I didn't have anything planned until Thursday night. Over a game of Age of Empires, Darcy, Quade, And I formulated a plan.

Quade would drive to Vancouver to say he'd gone coast to coast this summer. Meanwhile, somewhere along the way, he'd drop Darcy and Josh off. There was no talk of WHERE they would get out or what they'd do when they get there. Friday night, the three casually locked their door and headed out.

They drove as far as Revelstoke that night to loud music. Refusing to spend a penny, they pulled over beside the river and reclined their seats (Darcy was in the back seat curled up in foetal position) for the night. Let me tell YOU. If you ever have the opportunity to sleep a night in a Dodge Calibre...DON'T DO IT. Sleeping under the train tracks wasn't the best plan either, and several times they awoke in fright from the screaming sounds of a train above them. Somehow, Josh left his sandals at the river.

The next morning, they groaned, grimaced, and grunted and carried driving to Sicamous. “Pull over here,” said Darcy. We were at a beach and park.

They decided this was the place to begin the adventure. The three of them strolled over to the park, sat in the shade and relaxed.

“This ain’t so bad, eh? We can survive all weekend without basic necessities.”

(It’d been five minutes)

“Yeah totally. I don’t even want to take shoes!”

(Our feet were deep in the lush green grass)

“Alright. Let’s leave them in the car with Quade.”

(hold on...let’s stop and think about that)

“What a great idea!”

(What a terrible idea!)

So off Quade went.

We stayed on the beach for a few hours. Playing guitar, eating, talking. Easy peasy. Then we decided we’d walk back to Revelstoke. I said “let’s do it. how far is that?” Eleven hours. “okay....let’s do it.”

We picked up our guitars and small backpacks and headed out. Shirtless, shoeless. Planless.

Now let me say that it’s really easy to make bad decisions when it’s 45 degrees on a beach. Your brain gets lazy. It’s also really easy to fully comprehend a bad decision when you are walking along the highway when it’s 45 degrees...our feet were burning!

We headed to the east end of town, trying to walk in shade or on grass. However, the grass is so dry out there right now that it’s like walking on needles. Darcy preferred the stabbing feeling, and I chose the burns. However, as time went on, it didn’t matter what we walked on: it all hurt. We didn’t even make it out of town before stopping. The river ran alongside the highway, so we thought we’d try walking in the cool water to give our feet a break as we carry on upstream. We hobbled to the river in severe pain and realized that it was mostly lined with cliffs and was deeper than we thought...so it wasn’t an option. We groaned as we realized we were far along a road to nowhere and had to turn back around to go back into town. It was only getting hotter as we approached midday. Our feet were black and swollen by this point, and we realized we could go no further without some sandals. I suddenly realised I had a pair of socks in my backpack, and we each put on one sock and proceeded to the far end of town to buy sandals.

IMPORTANT LESSON: If you want to be taken seriously, NEVER wear one sock. A person with only one sock and no shirt will automatically be regarded as crazy and unstable. TWO people wearing one sock each is approximately 20 times worse, as now we were a gang of crazy people.

We politely walked into a store and had a look at their sandal collection. All they had were crocs. And I hate crocs. I even hate them when the next best option is blistered, bloody feet on hot, black pavement for long hours. So we left.

Pff. Crocs. Please.

We found another store that sold flip-flops for $1.50. Bingo. That’ll do, pig. After carefully searching the front door of the store for the “no shirt/no shoes/no service” sign, I put on my smile and walked in. The lady sold me the shoes, mumbling something about the poor, poor dogs. I don’t think she was talking about me...but now that I think about it, she might’ve been.

A car of girls slowed to honk at us, but that wasn’t worth the pain. I was beginning to sunburn (no shirt), and the flip-flops were the worst I’d ever worn. We were getting blisters on the TOP of our feet now too. And even worse: whenever we took a step, the sandal would slap the bottom of our feet, reminding us of our stupidity. We conceded that we would never make it out of town on foot. The new plan was to hitchhike home.

It was now approaching 1pm as we reached the Husky gas station and restaurant at the east end of town. I went in and asked for tape, a Sharpie, and some paper. The girl working the restaurant would not meet my eye. Her name was Jodie. I peg her at around 17. She was cute.

We made a sign that read “CALGARY” and taped it to Darcy’s guitar case. We set up shop on the highway and hoped someone would stop. No one even blinked, so I pulled out my guitar and began to sing. NOW we got reactions! People waved, cheered, took pictures, laughed. But still, no one would stop.

8 hours later, it looked like it was going to rain. We needed to find shelter. We saw some old semi trailers parked behind the Husky, and decided to sleep there. Just as we were packing up our stuff, a man crossed the highway and approached us.

“Hey, I saw you two trying to get someone to pick you up. Too bad you had no luck. But here’s half a watermelon and a couple drinks. And some sardines. Good luck!”

What bliss! Euphoria! Watermelony deliciousness!

(We tossed out the sardines. Seriously...it’s not like we’re homeless...though we did borrow two spoons from the restaurant to eat the watermelon.)

Halfway through eating this sudden turn of luck, the cute blonde named Jodie came outside. Darcy was convinced I'd end up marrying her.

“Hey, I’m off in two hours. I can give you a ride 20 minutes up the road if you want.”

Darcy and I just froze, spoon half way to mouth.

“Uhhh...”

Ok lets step back and examine this situation. A cute blonde 17yr old girl is offering to pick up two slightly older guys late at night and drive them out of town. She doesn’t know our names. Nor why we are here. All she knows is we have a ferocious affinity for this watermelon and we clearly haven’t showered in a couple days.

“Do you realise how dangerous that is?” I ask.

“Should I be worried? You guys seem pretty nice.”

I chuckled to Darcy. We’d spent some time debating whether we look like that stereotypical psycho hitchhiker you see walking along the highways, or like a couple harmless hippies who might be fun to party with. Jodie is either attracted to the older grungy type/psycho rapist cannibal or we look harmless like kittens.

(Side note: Kittens aren’t all that harmless. I watched a kitten sink it’s baby claws into, and hang from, some guys nipple this week.)

We accepted the ride, and sat in silence as we both contemplated how many ways this COULD go wrong for her had we been the crazy psycho rapist type. We actually got fairly stressed about this for a while. I mean, she had just given us two hours to decide what we would do with/to her. Then we suddenly laughed and realised that us being us, nothing unpleasant or gruesome would be happening to Jodie tonight. But seriously. She shouldn’t have offered.

Ten Minutes Later.

Trucker dude approaches us and says “Hey guys, I’ll be in Calgary at 3am. Wanna ride?”

*Pause*

We had just spent 9 bloody hours at this husky trying to get someone to give us a ride to Calgary. The first words out of our mouth when we are offered a non-stop direct drive in a comfy semi:

*unpause*

“I dunno...what do you think, Darcy?”

“Hmmm...”

“I mean, we couuullld...”

He sweetened the deal:

“I’ve just picked up a load of fresh blueberries and I’m taking them to Costco. We can eat all the blueberries we want.”

Done.

I went to find Jodie.

We are ditching you for blueberries. Yeah. I know. But it’s a killer deal. Oh...and don’t ever offer to pick up a hitchhiker again. And thanks.

We walked over to his semi and jumped in. The first thing he asks is “Hey, you guys smoke up, right? You know, a little bud?”

Oh Em Gee. Honestly...not while he’s driving all night through mountain passes?!

“Uhh no.”

“Oh! Then I won’t bother either.”

The next few hours were mostly silent. We found out that this guy lives in his truck and works 7 days a week with a girlfriend on each end of his route. Ew.

I missed Jodie. She would have been more interesting. Plus, she was going to drop us off in a place called the Enchanted Forest which I assume is pretty freakin’ scary at night. Jumping in the truck with Trucker Tom Cuggins would end our trip much sooner than anticipated. So Darcy and I decided to get out along the way. Golden was too cold, so we decided Banff would be a sweet spot to be homeless. Up to now, we had considered sleeping in 6 different places: Sicamous, The Enchanted Forest, Revelstoke, Golden, Banff, and Calgary. That is truly a homeless mentality.

We jumped out of the train at Banff and began walking along the road into town. It was pitch black with glass on the roads (we’d long ago ditched our shoes again) so the going was slow, and we were brutally delirious too. Suddenly, we heard this very eerie sound. Like wolves, crying babies, and nails on a chalk board. The trees are swaying, and no one is in sight. We hold our breath to listen. A light shines through the trees, moving slowly towards us up ahead. I grab my phone and notice that the clock says it’s sometime after 3am. It’s now my birthday. Whoop dee, I’m about to be eaten by Sasquatch.

But it wasn’t the Sasquatch, it was a slow moving train (no more than 10 km/hr) up ahead. And it was about to cut off the road to Banff. If we didn’t make it past this train in time, we’d be sitting there for hours if it chose to stop. If you think we could have just climbed over it, you haven’t spent much time around trains.

Everything happened so slowly, since we couldn’t run due to our blistering feet and delirious minds, and the slow moving train.

“Darcy! Ruuuun!”

“Jooooshhh we woonnt make it!”

“Cooomeee ooonnn!”

“chuga...chuga...chuga...chuga”

When I jumped in front of the train, it was from your pillow to your bedroom door away. And believe me, that is one scary rush of adrenaline. Darcy and I collapsed on the road in a fit of psychotic evil laughter and relief. The conductor leant out the window and shook his head at us. We looked like idiots.

Let me tell you. Banff gets cold at night.

Well say, Josh, didn’t you bring any warm clothes?

Of course I did! I brought a hoodie. Please, I’m not stupid.

No shoes, though, eh?

....

After attempting to sleep in the mosquito infested lawns of a hotel I once stayed at while working, I gave up. I don’t remember waking up, but 45 minutes after collapsing on the lawn, I was standing, looking down at Darcy. He had his jacket pulled up over his head. He zipped it down to his nose and looked up at me. “J-j-j-osh. Why is it so cold?” It was more pathetic than Oliver Twist asking for more.

“I don’t know Darcy, I don’t know.” And I walked away. I sat in the lobby of the hotel and watched the clerk drool all over his desk while he slept. When my brain thawed, I realised I’d left Darcy outside in the cold for 20 minutes when he was already shaking and delirious. I raced outside, avoided running into an elk, and found the spot where we’d slept. He wasn’t there. “Darcy?” I heard a sniff. I turned to see Darcy clinging to the side of the hotel, trying to absorb any warmth it may or may not have been emitting. “Darcy, let’s go somewhere warm.”

We stalked some guy until he told us where he’d bought his coffee, and we slept in McDonalds for two hours until 8am. It was full of people dressed like Smith from The Matrix. I think they were there, anyways. When I woke up, they weren’t...so we’ll never know. I think I took the blue pill.

Feeling like absolute garbage, we decided it was time to get home. We attempted to hang out at the last gas station in town and get a ride there...but we just fell asleep and ended up sprawled out on the sidewalk blocking the payphone and washroom entrance. This was the low of the trip. We were disgusting homeless people who you try and avoid. Old ladies glared. Meh. We needed the sleep.

At 11:30am, we realised no one was going to drive us if we were sleeping on the sidewalk, so we cleaned ourselves up and headed out to the highway. We sang and laughed and waved. We saw Tom driving back the other way. He was probably high as a kite, since he didn’t wave. At 11:45am, a very nice couple in Subaru picked us up and we chatted all the way back to Calgary. We gave them our CD and they dropped us off at Foothills Hospital where we walked home from. All in all, we were only gone 42 hours....but it was ridiculous and dumb the whole time, so it felt much longer. Our feet were totally black and blistered from the heat and our whole bodies sore from the sleeping conditions. Happy Bday Josh. Aaallright.

Happy Birthday Me

So I'm 21. But everyone already knew that because Facebook told you. I have a good story, but i'll wait until i have more energy to write it. For now, we'll just leave it at the fact that I'm another year older and 20 was the craziest year of my life thus far.

Movies I Love and Own

Across The Universe
Blood Diamond
The Bourne Identity
The Bourne Supremacy
The Bourne Ultimatum
Braveheart
The Departed
Edward Scissorhands
Fargo
Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas
Fiddler On The Roof
Forrest Gump
Garden State
In Bruges
King Arthur
The Legend Of Bagger Vance
Memoirs Of A Geisha
Mr.&Mrs Smith
Napoleon Dynamite
The Notebook
Ocean's Eleven
Ocean's Twelve
Ocean's Thirteen
The Prestige
The Pursuit Of Happyness
The Truman Show
Wedding Crashers

The Monkey Man

Imagine you're on your way to work, and have decided to take the train. As you board the train, you fumble with your iPod (you're listening to 'Is There A Ghost') and check your cell phone. You are late for work. But there's still time to stop at Timmy's.

And then you look up and see a 90+ year old Asian man jump into the air and grab a hold of the bar above his hand and begin swinging back and forth across the train like a monkey. You are the only other person in the train car. You worry about his heart--it could give out any second. Or maybe you worry about him getting in trouble with those pesky transit cops.

Either way, he's caught you off guard and you don't know what to do. So you watch. He has a goofy grin on as he swings around. You don't worry anymore. Clearly, he's been doing this for years. Suddenly he jumps, lands, and picks up his cane. He hunches over slightly, and shuffles out the door.

.

Thanks for imagining with me.

When I can't sleep:

I eat Frosted Mini Wheats.

or play terrible online games.

Tomorrow will be a long day at work.

Fortunately, I have my new/used iPod to get me through it.

My week

I'll tell you right now. There's nothing more relaxing and calming than sitting on my front steps and playing guitar. I'll be barefoot, no shirt, playing the new song I wrote. If it's warm, I'll be drinking a growers. If it's not as warm as it could be, or if it's morning time...a cup of tea does the trick. Ahh summer. And to think I used to be a winter person. Ahh...but the dishes need to be done. And my room should be cleaned. Again. I made plans with new friends. Three cheers for not being a complete loner!

If I see ONE more cover of a magazine
with Michael Jackson on it, I'll moonwalk
all over its pages. Even worse, magazines
are now featuring the likes of Heath Ledger, Kurt Cobain, and Elvis.

It's cool to be dead.

The Waiting Place

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow, I'll escape.

The Sting of Raindrops

I don't expect anyone to read all this. It's so long, and it's not really meant for anyone else but me. But this is my blog, so there.

I haven’t left the house today. I almost went out to go buy socks, but I decided it could wait. After 10 days of fighting through the job at the stampede and all the unexpected surprises, setbacks and challenges, I didn’t even want to feel the discomfort of one cold raindrop trickling down my back.

It doesn’t make sense to me how as an individual, I cannot understand myself. I mean, doesn’t it make sense that if there is one thing we should be able to understand, it should be ourselves—inside and out. Literally like the back of our hand. How can emotions and intentions be so confusing? You can THINK you’re happy, and then somehow, you can realise that you’re only happy because you’ve been ignoring something that’s been ‘secretly’ stressing you out for a long time. Or you can be miserable and feel hollow immediately after something fantastic happened—like meeting some amazing girl, getting a big pay check or promotion, or learning how to whistle after 20 years of wishing you could.

No, I haven’t learned to whistle yet, but the other things did happen.

This girl wasn’t someone overwhelmingly amazing or life changing, though. I’d like to say she was, but that’d be really silly since I didn’t know her. But I bet that if I had the chance to get to know her, she would be. Already you can sense the confusion in my emotions. The pay check was huge. Not just in a monetary way, but as a stress reliever. I now know I can pay for at least one semester of school, which is huge since I’m tired of wasting time bumming around semester after semester. And the promotion isn’t really a promotion, but a big thank you from the company I work for after doing an exceedingly fantastic job at my job on the stampede grounds.

After mentioning I worked at the stampede, I always feel compelled to add that I don’t actually work FOR the stampede. I’m not a carnie, I’m not picking up garbage, and I make more than almost anyone else on the grounds for being at the bottom of a corporate ladder. I don’t really know if that’s a confidence issue that I have to tell people that I work for a promotional marketing company contracted by GMC or a source of pride because I absolutely excel at and love my job, and want people to know what I am passionate about. I’m also quick to point out that I have no emotional attachment to GMC and would hardly consider buying one ever....but that’s not important.

So, let’s get down to it.

I spent the last 10 days working Stampede. There are two observations I made with my coworkers while reflecting on our job at the stampede. One is that while on the job, we don't measure time by the sun getting lower, but instead by the skirts getting higher... The things people wear. Yikes. The other observation I make is that I can measure my life in Stampedes: Each of the last three years marks a different time in my life, and a certain feeling is invoked by each 10 day period. Three years ago, I was dating Leslie. I was also jealous, insecure, and madly in love...or at least as much as you can be at 17 years old...or so I thought. The truth is, I’d been talking with various people for a couple months around that time about my need to escape, be on my own, and live my own life for a while. Darcy and Natasha were dating, and the four of us worked together in harmony.

Fast forward one year.

The next stampede, Leslie and I had recently broken up, and this stampede would be the most time we’d spent together since the previous December. She was dating someone else, which really bothered me at the time. Darcy and I had grown much closer over the last few months as we had finished recording our first CD, ‘Faith In Shadows’. We had also spent a good few months planning to leave on what would come to be known as Josh And Darcy’s Epic Adventure. By the time stampede rolled around, we were both itching to leave. Things had grown sour with friends, and we were out of reasons to be at home. I remember feeling numb and apathetic, all the while pretending to be perfectly happy.

Fast forward one year. To now.

I had quite the year. With the trip as life changing, inspirational, and influencing as it was, and then coming home and realising that when you’ve changed, it’s beyond depressing to drop back into the same lifestyle. And then there’s the thrill of moving out, being a musician in a band, and living pay check to pay check. It all added up to make me a more independent, confident, laid back person (I think). I (think I) started to feel some pride in myself and it paralleled with my slow realisation of what I am good at, and what I (think I) wanted to pursue in life. My trip to Vancouver sealed the deal. The concert, the mountains, the ocean, and the hitch-hiking: I felt different because of it. I felt good. I was being more honest with myself, and I loved who I was (I think). I began to take the wheel in my life. I came back from that trip a much more content person (I Think). I was excited to see how this stampede would be different from the last two.

You know those women who seem to come out of nowhere every year around stampede? They are all blonde, 5’ 10” who consistently make you wonder how they fit into those clothes...and then you realise that they really DON'T fit into them. Most of their boobs are hanging out. They are, by-and-large, considered the “perfect woman” by “the average male.” I don’t know where they spend the rest of the year, and I’m convinced the City of Calgary breeds them somewhere between here and Airdrie on a farm specifically for stampede as part of getting people in a party mood. And then there’s those guys. Biceps larger than my legs, a tough looking scar on their forearm, and the perfect five o clock shadow smeared across their shining faces. Damn it, I use to think. If only.

But not this year.

This year, I went to work on the first day fully aware of how far I fell from that standard, and I couldn’t have cared less. I saw the way those guys treated the girls, how the smirked at me, how they all spat and smoked and swore and kicked stuff and I realised that personality goes a whole lot further. And I went to work knowing that my personality was likeable. That I’m not stupid, and that I can do a lot more things if I feel confident in my ability and stopped second guessing myself and wondering what other people think. I’m not six foot two and 220 lbs. But I am six feet and I’m a good guy. I actually realised that I’ve spent a lot of my life looking up to people (literally) who were shorter than me. I always felt short, and I realised it was entirely psychological.

Stampede started out well. I exuded a high level of confidence. I worked hard and people instantly noticed. Management trusted me, and I was put in charge of bigger projects after only a couple days on the job. I felt great and carried myself with a smile and an outgoing attitude. And I felt like having a coffee.

I bought a coffee from a very sweet girl who worked the coffee stand no more than 20 meters from where I worked every day. We struck up a friendly conversation full of humour and complaints about not getting enough sleep the night before. Even a month ago, I would have just kept this conversation to “one coffee please,” but now I felt good. And she was cute. Really cute.

I would end up dropping by to say hi to her and her co-worker Laura several times a day. Many times, I would start the conversation by ordering a coffee, paying for it, and then walking away after a good conversation...forgetting the coffee. I learned she was from BC, and only here to work stampede. Eventually, I told her where I worked, and in the evenings when it died down, she would bring a hot chocolate for me and we’d talk for a few minutes. On one of these nights, I asked her if I could take the train home with her. Actually, she suggested it...(teeheehee). We met after work, and took the train home, having a fantastic and light-hearted conversation the entire time. I made an effort not to make a big deal of anything and not bring up heavy topics. I’m notorious for being too intense. I think I usually become intense because I hate small talk. But this time, I was able to just be my regular self without any depressing talk of life and death and regret and all that. I offered to walk her home from the train station and she smiled and said yes. I asked her if maybe the next night we could hang out for a bit after work. The next day she came by in the evening, and I nervously asked her if she was still up for hanging out. We made plans to go for a drink and then wander the city, both aware that every moment we spent awake after work was lost sleep that would make the next day a little bit harder.

I met her at 11pm, watched the fireworks, and we caught the train. She sat in the exact same spot on the train: one of the sideways facing seats. We had a slightly deeper conversation that went beyond family and school. I learned that she’s scared of a lot of things, that she’s very smart, and probably a bit OCD. She told me she wanted to be home by 1:30...which meant we didn’t have a whole lot of time since the trains weren’t running too often. She was staying at the SAIT dorms with other stampede workers and if she was later than 1:30, she’d probably be locked out for the night. I was just happy to be spending time with someone, so it didn’t matter if our time was brief. We got to the train station near my house and the pub. I told her that in order to get there, we’d both ride my bike. This was a huge stretch for her, but eventually she got on the bike and I rode in front of her to the pub. It was closed. She suggested we just go back to the train station. I chuckled as I realised how unadventurous this girl is. I suggested we go back to my house and hang out in the back yard and talk. We walked the bike back to my house.

I gave her a quick tour of the dark house and showed her the studio in the basement. We went to the back yard, laid out a blanket and sat and talked. She tried to explain just how uptight she is. How stressed. She spent most of the time complaining about terrible customers she dealt with all day. I didn’t care what we talked about. I was just happy to be doing something besides handing out fuzzy stickers, scheduling, and updating websites. I could tell she wasn’t going to let herself get too comfortable around me and was careful to not face me. But man....the few times our eyes met....wow....

I noticed she kept checking the time, and offered to take her home a bit early. We both rode the bike to Brentwood and caught the train. Sitting in the same spot for the third time, she sat there stressing that she wouldn’t get back home on time before the security guard locked the dorms for the night. I tried to explain something I’d learned on JDEA. When you get on a train, a bus, or a plane, you can no longer get anywhere any faster. You’ve done what you can, and the rest is up to the driver. So you can relax. Lindsey said that the thought of that stressed her out even more. What opposite personalities! I found her very interesting, but definitely not my type in any way beyond appearance.

When we got to SAIT station, I told her of a short cut I knew that would get her home faster, as it was almost 1:30. She agreed, and I jumped onto the c-train tracks. She stood wide-eyed on the platform and shook her head. I knew that this was pushing her waaaay beyond her comfort level, and she probably thought I’m some psycho idiot...but I could live with that. I was just having fun now. A train had just passed, so I didn’t expect another one to approach us from ahead so soon...however, a train came screaming down the tracks with its bright headlight and blaring horn. We had to dash to the end of the platform so that there was space to get off the tracks. She screamed; I smiled though I did feel a little bad. And as we left the tracks and walked down the path to her dorm, I realised that construction had replaced my path with a hole in the ground surrounded by 12 foot fences. Now I really felt bad. I gave her two choices: go back along the tracks, or jump the fence. Another train whizsed by behind us; she chose the fence. We walked through the construction zone, climbing the fence on the other side. As we approached the door to her building, she shook her head and said “this is not me. I would never do these things.” I nervously chuckled...I’d had a good time, but I knew this was not her idea of a good night out after a 12 hour shift.

I said goodbye, gave her a stuffed fish from one of the carnie games as a joke, and after she was able to wake up one of her friends to open the door, I left.

The next few days proved awkward and I went and said “hi” far less. I made multiple half-apologies for freaking her out. She was ever polite and even bought my CD, but never came to find me on breaks. This was fine...I didn’t expect her to, and I knew that nothing would ever come of this anyways. It was all in good fun and just some time spent with a random stranger who I clicked with. I wondered if I should even go say goodbye on the last day of stampede. She texted me as I was standing 20 feet from her having a debate in my head over what to do. So I did. I told her that I was planning on hanging out with friends for a couple hours and since she had to work until 2am, I’d come by on my way out. We took a picture and hugged. Later that night, I went to say bye, but ended up helping them pack up their coffee stand until almost 2am. She then told me she wasn’t taking the train since she had arranged a ride and thank you and keep in touch and “have a good night.” So that was that. I left feeling a little bit dumb for liking her in spite of everything that didn’t make sense. She was going into first year university in BC, I didn’t know her (or hardly at all), and what I did know about her was just so “out there” and different from my other friends and how I like to live. But it’s definitely my style to get caught up in these things too quickly and easily. Girls will always rock me to the core.

Anyways, my boss loved my work, the people I was supervising loved me, and I even got attention from several cute girls in my ten days. Confidence is a powerful thing. But now, on my first day off with zero plans, I tried to spend the rainy day asleep so I wouldn’t feel depressed. It was all over. The perfect job, the power, the girl, the fun, the money. Now it was just me again. I watched Garden State. Zach Braff felt so lifeless and numb until he met this girl and stopped his medication. I worry that without that job, a girl, the power of being in control, and all that good stuff...I will quickly become numb again too. But the mere fact that I took the time to write all of this and think it out word for word means I’m avoiding my apathetic habits. I want to keep up my good mood, my confidence, and my outlook. My emotions confuse me. I should be happy and relaxed today after working so hard and achieve high goals.

Every time I play the Live Coldplay CD ‘Leftrighleftrightleft” I can sing and dance and cry. It reminds me of Vancouver, and the independent, content mentality that I came back home with. The sense of direction and purpose I found from talking with Ameeta and reading Velvet Elvis. I start every day listening to that CD. The sheer joy of the cheering crowd, the emotion in his voice as he sings. And to me it makes everything feel more real, rawer. And it keeps me going. It keeps me thinking, and it makes me smile.

My thought...

Experience isn't knowing what will and will not work. It's knowing how to make it work.