Spicy Song Of The Week

I am slowly going crazy. A year ago, I was lying on a beach in Goa, India. I had the best steak of my life that night. Now, I know...steak? In India? Well, for you geography buffs, Goa is a Christian province, so hey, let's kill some cows!

But now here we are, looking at the weather forecast and complaining. Midterms and bills and indecision. Let's all shed a tear for this grim place we call home. Calgary is gray and wet and cold. The social aspect to this city is dead, which isn't to say it was ever alive. If it was alive, I think it died when they got rid of Bonkers, with all those tubes and slides and nets and levels that we got to climb around in until --ouch! I got shocked!

So just remember, you could be living in a beachfront room for $6 a day, eating delicious food, riding scooters, and running a business that sells cheesy clothing to the locals.Or opening a Bonkers.

And believe me, you'd probably live longer without all the stress that we unnecessarily put on ourselves.

With that in mind, I bring you a song that perfectly describes my level of brain activity as we proceed through this monotonous week. It's vocabulary surpasses my own, and its themes are too deep for me to swim in -- I drown in this song. Drown with me.

Mannah Mannah

The Muppets

When my brother was 3 years old, I rediscovered this song. So I taught it to him: He'd say "mannah mannah" in a cute baby voice, and I'd say "do doo do doo doo". And he'd fall over laughing every time.

That's honestly one of the best moments in my life ever. What a great kid.

The Curse of the Holey Shoe! YAR!

It does sound like a pirate movie, don't it? Some pirate adventure featuring Johnny Depp as a cunning peg-legged sailor who needs a shoe for his one non-peg foot. But as it turns out, there's only one place you can buy a SINGLE shoe: and it's an island fiercely guarded by an evil black witch who threatens to curse the shoe of anyone who only orders ONE. Because it's just not cool to do that.

But I ain't no pirate. Though if I was, I'd probably have an awesome pirate name like Scabby-eyed Sam, or Cold-hearted Crawdad. Jangled-Jugular Josh. Or just Bill.

YYAR!!

anyways...

I wanted to rant a little bit. "Shoe Karma" is killin' me. For the last 3 years, every pair of shoes I've ever bought has suddenly and mysteriously gotten holes in them within a couple weeks of me owning them. Other important fact: I've never spent more than $30 on a pair of shoes... until NOW.

DUN DUN DUN

After slyly coaxing me into a shoe store to "just have a look around", my friends convinced me to ORDER a pair of SEVENTY THREE DOLLAR SHOES that would arrive at my DOOR STEP in THREE DAYS.

OUTRAGEOUS. I would never do a thing like that. Not this guy. I wear the shoes right off my feet before I buy new ones.

But it's all in the hopes that spending more money means they will keep the water on the outside.

So they arrived. And they look good. And I like them. But my feet are so used to being soaked that I'm actually psychologically tricked into thinking that I'm still walking in puddles. Dry feet? What's that like?

Also, remember how I needed new jeans? Well I was told by the fashion police that until I bought new shoes, I couldn't buy new jeans, as they need to be coordinated. Who the heck makes all these rules? I'm have no fashion inclination at all. Thank goodness I have friends to help me spend my money, right? Right....

Hmph.

And now, a shoe-themed song I wrote.

THE NO SHOES BLUES

By Josh.

Hey, have you seen my shoes?
Without them, packing's no use
I'm off for a world trip
But I won't let my socks rip
So hey, have you seen my shoes?

I found 'em and I put ;em on
(left on the left foot, right on the right)
I walked out the front door singin' a song
As I went to board my flight:

Shoes!
I'd go nowhere if it weren't for you
These shoes!
Keepin' my feet from a-turnin' all
Blue from the cold and red from the heat
Shoes, shoes, I love you with all of my feet!

The thing about travellin' and walkin' around
Eventually these shoes were worn right down
Sahara stole the soles
Himalayas heisted m'heels
O Lament! I Can't control
This madness, ungladness, and sadness i feel!

Knots in these laces
The tongue's all a-choked
I'd love to trade places
With a newly-shoed bloke

But i couldn't throw 'em out
Or just toss em in the street
I wore on these worn shoes
--wore 'em right off my feet

One fateful day in some sunny summer sun
I was trekkin' on concrete and havin' some fun
When I felt my feet burnin'--my shoes were long gone
Shoutin' "Oh! Ah!" and "OUCH!" I broke into a run

My feet took me fastly and far
Despite the stubbed toes (that no doubt would scar)
from deep in my throat i sang of my woes
in a melancholic minor key this is how it goes:

Shoes!
I'm no one an' nowhere without you
No shoes to keep my toes from a-turnin'
All blue from the cold and red from the heat
Shoes, Shooooees, i loved you--with all of my feet!

____
Anyone else noticing how much time I've spent writing about shoes?

Nick nick nick na-nick nick nick, Nickelodeon!

I have this tendency to stay up until 2 or 3 AM and it sure does make it hard to get out of bed in time for class. When I do manage such a feat, I have to thank my alarm clock for it's persistent effort. It is entirely irreplaceable/unreplaceable. Suffice to say, if this alarm clock was broken or stolen,....oh no. I just searched ebay, amazon, and some black market chinese imports site for my alarm clock---and they aren't for sale anymore!

LIFE! WHY ME?!

You don't understand: I've never owned another alarm clock! I got it for christmas in 1995. I was 7 years old, and my parents were tired of waking me up for school every morning. This isn't just any alarm clock, either:

Ok, so it's a little bit obnoxious and extremely painful to wake up to this ruckus every morning, but I've developed a reflex so that my hand pounds the Big Red Button when the tiny electronic 'click' of the sound loop beginning. I don't actually ever hear my whole alarm. Unless I forget to turn it off after hitting 'snooze', and then nine minutes later it blasts out its tune again when I come back to my room from the shower.

I find it extremely difficult to watch the above video because that combination of sounds makes my heart pound as I search for a Big Red Button to pound to plastic pulp with a palpitating heart. I've probably lost hours off my life from waking up in such a state of terror and shock.

To think of all the big moments and days my alarm clock has woken me up for. The first day of grade four, when I went to private school and everyone hated me because of my ugly haircut (HAH NO I will not post a photo), the day I got my license, my first date, my last date, my first day of university. Today.

I love rolling over in the morning and the first thing I see: my alarm clock, there beside me. Loving me unconditionally. Almost smiling. Ahhh the memories..and then--

CHCHKCKHCKHCKHCKHC 

--THREE--TWO--ONE--

 Okay. I'm up....in nine more minutes.

Man, I'm tired of bad drivers

Every day, I bike to school. And every day, when I go to make a left turn, the oncoming traffic stops to let me by. People, just so you know: THIS IS WRONG. I do NOT have the right of way. KEEP DRIVING. Don't try and be nice..think about all the smarter people behind you who don't expect you to stop to let someone else go. If you don't have a stop sign, don't stop! When these roads get icy, and a car unexpectedly stops because for some stupid reason they think a guy on a bike has the right of way, someone is going to have to slam on their breaks behind you and your car won't be so pretty anymore when they bash into you. And I will point and laugh and tell you you deserve it. But the guy behind you didn't. So that's not fair.


One of these times when a car stops, I'm going to bike right in front of it, lean my bike on his hood, and knock on his/her window and give them a polite but stern lecture about the rules of the road.

Make sure you know the driving rules wherever you live. Winter is a crazy time, and yet I don't blame the ice for all the crashes.

Dear world,

Don't be dumb.

-Josh

Mmm

I was on my way to General Studies (my favourite and most attended class), and decided that due to the dropping temperatures, a steeped tea from Tim Horton's would make it an even more enjoyable experience. The line wasn't too long, which made this an easier process, too. But for some reason, people wait in line for 10 minutes just to buy a coffee, and then they get to the front of the line and when they are called forward with an 'I'd like to help you here!', they are somehow distracted and hold up the whole line because they won't go order their coffee! Come on people. Pull it together!

So what should have been a 5 minute wait is now pushing 7.5 minutes (brutal!), and yet I'm still in perfectly good spirits. I promptly approach the counter and get straight to the point. No need for small talk. Down to business:

"I'd like an Extra Large Steeped Tea, three sugar, two cream, please."

"What?"

"Steeped Tea, please. Extra Large, triple double." I quickly repeat.  I realise I don't know which one is triple and which one is double. Is the 'triple' part of that referring to cream? Or sugar? Who makes these rules?

"Um.." she turns around and has a conversation with a coworker, which appears to be entirely unrelated and then comes back to take my money. I have already counted out the $1.73 in exact change, and am looking to get this done efficiently. She takes my money and I move down the counter. I receive my steeped tea in good time, but from past experience I know I need to stir it. So I open the lid ..and there's no cream or sugar in it. I explain my unfortunate circumstances to the closest employee, and she quickly takes my cup, dumps out about 1/4 of the steep tea, and adds the cream and sugar. The cup is still about 1/4 empty, so she reaches for the pot and fills it back up.

"Wait!" I said, pointing to the pot in her hand, "Is that steeped tea?"

'You ordered a steeped tea, no?" she replies with attitude. I smiled and walked away, thanking her.

I'm walking through the hall and decide I better take a sip before venturing outside to my next class. I crack the lid and take a sip. And stop. My already large eyes get even wider--so wide, that if we were at laser quest and the little kids saw me in the black light, they'd scream and cry (therefore making it easier for me to shoot them repeatedly and pin them in a corner...throw in an evil laugh, and they're scarred for life! MUAHAHAHAAAAaaa...).

Something was different about this steeped tea. Really different. Really wonderfully different. I smile at passer-bys, as they look at me suspiciously. What has happened to this Steeped Tea?

I replay the situation in my head, consult my taste buds, and come to an exciting conclusion:

That last quarter cup they filled my cup with after adding the cream and sugar: it wasn't tea--it was COFFEE!

Holy brown cow this is tasty, I think. I felt like I was holding a classified, world-altering secret in my hand, and that anyone finding out about this might try to destroy it, because mixing tea and coffee has got to be a faux pas to the extreme. People wouldn't only frown upon it, they may revert back to the 5th century BC and stone me to death. I moved quickly through the halls, avoiding eye contact. I realized there was a small chance that the Tim Horton's employee might have realized her mistake and come running after me to apologize, only to see me smiling as I sip the hot beverage. Then, naturally, she would be furious that I would like such a liquid, and feel compelled to call her rich uncle to hire hit men to come silence me for all time. So I was late for class, doubling back and making sure no one had followed me. I seemed to be safe for now.

"Hey Josh," says Jenn, a wonderful girl in my class.

"Jenn, I have to tell you something. I just discovered the ninth world wonder!"

"Um....what's the 8th?"

"Well currently, there's a debate whether the 8th world wonder is in fact sliced bread, or whether it's me."

"I think it's probably sliced bread. What's this new number nine?"

And I proceeded to tell her the story of this phenomenal new drink. I would not share it with her, however, because I was sick.

She didn't immediate whip out a scythe and kill me, so I could take comfort in knowing that there are some people who won't be terribly offended by the monstrosity that is tea+coffee.

All that was left was do name this drink. Then I could market it to the masses. if the name was good enough, I believed that people wouldn't be angry about the sacrilegious product.

teCofee?
Coftee?
toffee?
coteafee?
glorp?

These suck. Darcy suggested something more psychologically appealing. And then I had it:

Mmm

Yes, that was it! What better marketing scheme than telling them how to react to my product before even tasting it! Hahaha! I could almost see the millions of dollars pouring into my bank account! When I tell them about my product, they'll be inclined to strangle me, but in the end, they'll put down their razor wire and snuggle up in front of a glowing fireplace, saying "Mmmm..."

So consider this my copyright notice. I introduce you to Mmm, the 3/4 tea, 1/4 coffee, cream and sugar drink that does not give you wings, it gives you a rocket pack. It is the best part of waking up. Just watch out for the hit men...

Spicy Song Of The Week

This one is a happy, summer song. I assure you that listening to this song will make it warmer this week. I'd forgotten just how grim it gets here, having spent a good chunk of the last winter in India. I broke out my super massive poofy green coat today:

I know. It's awesome. It also protects me from any pain when I'm biking to school and slip and fall on the ice. So with that, I present you a summer song:

Don't Look In Their Eyes

Stabilo

Happiness and Disaster

Break out the frizollie, and let's have a barbecue!

nothanksgiving

Reaaally?

We take a day to celebrate what we are thankful for by killing it, eating too much of it, and then passing out because all the blood has rushed to our stomach to provide us with enough energy to digest. Wow. That's really ceremonious. That's respectable.

Now I'm all for big meals and the family, but let's gain a little perspective on what it is we are doing this for. And if you say 'giving thanks' or 'remembering what we are grateful for', that has nothing to do with dead birds steaming on the table. Seriously people, you eat this much food because it tastes good. Anything else is just a stepping stone to that goal.

Is gluttony still one of those seven deadly sins?


I'd honestly rather not associate all over eating and steaming dead bird with being 'thankful'. There's better ways to show thanks. And while we're talking about thankful, someone enlighten me: what does that mean, 'to be thankful'? Who are you thanking?

If it's God, or some higher power, then I get it, I support that idea. You are thanking that higher power for all that he has given and done for you.

But, what of the staunch Athiests out there? Do they celebrate thanksgiving, or do they just stuff their faces for fun. If they do celebrate, how can the be thankful? It seems like that's just an opportunity for them to pat themselves on the back. "Thanks to ME for my job, thanks to ME for my friends, Thanks to ME for my health, since I look out for me."

In either situation, we can all be thankful for the other people in our life.

I guess I just don't get what people's perception of this holiday really is. I'm thankful I got paid triple time today, and that I get to spend the evening with family. But did we really need to wait until today to make it known what we value?

 All I'm saying is, go stuff your faces, and hang with family, but remember that's really all you're doing. Right?


Mmmm...mashed potatoessss.


PS, I'm not a holiday person.

Flying Lessons

I was randomly creeping my own facebook profile, and rediscovered this old gem of an album. Thought I'd share, in case anyone out there is in need of a chuckle. I hope you like it. If you don't, that's not okay.

Show me 'Flying Lessons'!

(captions are essential)

I encourage you to view this album in class, as it will be extremely distracting for your fellow students.

It wasn't me...was it?

This is Best Buy's Stock over the last two years. See that massive drop around november/december? That's when I started working there. See how it goes waaaay up in January? That's when I left.

ouch.

Google Streetwho?

So I'm checkin out that Google Street View thing, where they actually give you a virtual tour of..the world. And naturally, I go check out the house I lived in at the time when they were taking all the photos for the Google Database, and discover something that temporarily blew my mind.

I'll take you on my Googleventure....

So I am checking out my road I used to live on with my family and thinking just how ridiculously complex it is that they've done this for the US and Canada and even parts of Europe.

My house is the on at the end of this gray line. So anyways, I'm moving down my road...

past that gray van....

Wait a sec..that grey van! I know it...that's my parents car!

I back up and zoom in.....and whaddaya know---

^^^MOM!^^^

She's, like, famous! Can you believe it?! Me neither!

Google, you be crazy!

Actually?

I took the train home last night from work. It's getting super cold, and I can't imagine enjoying the scenic route home late at night. Besides, I don't like getting hit by cars as much as I thought. However, I do bike to the train, as I avoid walks whenever possible..unless it's a walk on the beach or something like that...but if I'm trying to get somewhere, I'd rather make that happen quickly.

So I bike to the train and board it quickly. One station later, two cops get on. We are officially the only three people in the car, so it gets a little awkward. I suddenly get flashbacks of an two experiences that happened recently involving authority, the train, and Josh.

1

The first was this summer, when Darcy and I were coming home from an afternoon of largely unsuccessful busking downtown. While during the school year, we are provided with 'free' transit passes, we're on our own for the summer break. Naturally, we both refuse to pay. So we risk it, talking all the way home about how useless transit cops are sicne we've never seen them actually ask for a ticket from a passenger. As we approach the station, however, we are cautious because we realised we've probably jinxed our luck. Sure enough ,there's four transit cops forming a human wall, letting only checked passengers through the doors into the free world. But I've never actually seen them before, so like Mowgli checking out the cute girl in Jungle Book, I decide to get a 'closer look.' I actually get off the train to see if there's a way past them, and realize the futility of the plan. I turn around to tell Darcy the very obvious fact "Yup, they are transit cops, so let's not get off at this station." However, before I finish my sentence, the doors close, and the train pulls away, leaving me stunned on the platform. Shucks, I said. Now what? I froze, assuming the position of a tree in order to remain undetected. The platform cleared out and soon it was just Me and Them. I hoped my tree-like pose would save me, though I think the guitar on my back gave me away. One of them moved slowly towards me, and I slowly walked as far away as possible. Just as I was about to give up, another train pulled up, heading the other way, and I boarded it and escaped, the officer suspiciously glaring me down. Success!...minus the long walk home.

2

The other story happened this last week. This time I had a transit pass but my cousin Lena did not. I told her "please..the chances of them being on our train and asking us within the next three stops is preetttyyy slim."  Obviously, I wouldn't bother writing this out if that's what actually happened. As we waited for the train, two cops suddenly walked up and stood beside us. Lena silently died a little, and I tried to strategize. Surely they aren't going to ask us for tickets as we are trying to board the train. We decided to get on the furthest car and see what happens. The next station, they switched cars, and we realized that eventually, they would be on our car. The train stopped and we got off just as they boarded our car, but couldn't make it to the front car in time, so we were forced to wait for another train. 10 minutes later, we got on the next train, but I knew the danger wasn't yet over. They could easily have finished checking the first train and now be waiting to catch THIS one. Sure enough, they were waiting on the platform. We were forced to escape the train again, and decided to make the 15 minute walk to our destination. All in all, it was a half hour process to travel 4 stops. But it's the principal of the thing! It's simply wrong to pay for a ticket. 

So this cold night while I'm catching the train home from work, the three of us stood quietly for 3 minutes. Then they began to wander down the length of the car, and I scoffed.

"Actually?"

"Sorry?" they said, turning around to face me.

"It's the first time I've ever been in a situation to be checked for a ticket, and you're not even going to ask? I mean, you've got your clipboards for writing up tickets right in your hands!"

They were slightly confused by my attitude, and suddenly assumed a more hardline approach.

"Well ..yeah--Yes, we were going to ask you!" and with a menacing glare, he added, "You do have one, don't you?"

I fished in my wallet, suddenly realizing the irony that I might not have my transit pass on me. Alas, I did, and I showed him my student ID. He bent down slightly to analyze it and nodded. He almost gave it back, but then gave in and softened his demeanor again. "What is this?" he asked. "People keep showing me this, but I don't even know what it is."

I openly laughed at the idea that I should be explaining the law to a police officer, and I let him know how silly that sounded. He chuckled too, and I explained to the slightly embarrassed cop how to tell if the transit pass was valid. "It has an expiry date here, and another sticker on the back."

He thanked me and continued on his way, eventually arresting two fighting idiots at the next station. He at least handled that situation well.

Moral of this story is don't pay for transit passes. Just wave an official looking document in their faces with a smile and they'll be forced to believe it.

Sugar

Well I couldn't sleep. So I started typing, and here's what came out...? :



I dunno about you, but Jr High/Middle school was not a great time in my life. I can't remember what the inside of my classrooms looked like, but I can tell you who the cutest girls were, what time lunch was (so that I knew when I could stop pretending I was running an errand for the teacher), and what were the best online game sites. Anyone remember Slime Sports?

I lived in Colorado from when I was 12-16. Those are tough years to switch schools (and countries), and I didn't handle it too well. I was frustrated with no direction, alone except for my best friend...a homeschooled Baptist who I couldn't relate to except for our love of waterballoon fights, basketball, and our common lack of friends. I didn't even try to make friends for the first three years since I was told we'd be moving back to Canada in a couple years. BooHoo, right?

Anyways, fun fact about Josh. I'm a sugar addict to the extreme. For as long as I can remember, I've been finding ways to get as much sugar in my system as possible. When I was four, I would wait until everyone was asleep and then sneak downstairs, push a chair up to the counter, climb up and open the snack cupboard. Without fail, there'd be a hidden fruit-roll-up in the back corner. I would hide one there so that my mom would buy more before they were actually all gone. I couldn't afford to not have a sugar rush late at night.

When I was five I did that stupid kid thing of snorthing pixie sticks. I wasn't the brightest kid, but I learned after the first time and never did that again.

In colorado, however, this addiction was taken to the extreme. I became a candy salesmen in grade seven. I bought one Jolly Rancher sucker (watermelon) for $0.15 and sold it at school for $0.25. Eventually, I was supplying candy of all types to as many as 30 kids on a daily basis. All profits were lost, however, as I kept eating as much of the candy as I could afford.

I stole the brown sugar lumps from the kitchen on a regular basis. My mom would find wrappers in all my pockets when she did laundry. The dentist would shed a tear every 6 months. I can't remember not having a cavity. My face was brutally destroyed by acne, and I was even skinnier than I am now: I literally ate nothing except for candy and sugar..and healthy, balanced dinner that my mom always cooked.

I went to church every sunday and bought a 40oz slurpee to make it through the 1 hour sermon. It was always finished before the pastor stopped talking. I would wake up at 4 am to bike to the 24hour 7-11 and buy an "Xtreme Gulp" Slurpee---you know those massive insulated mugs that they only charge 80 cents for refills on? That was breakfast each day before and during school. That's almost a 2 liter milk carton full of liquid sugar every day just to wake me up. I called 7-11 my second home. I was on a first name basis with the girl who worked there. This was the low point of my life.

I figured out that I could go into the school office about three times a month and tell them the pop machine ate my money. they would then give me two bucks, and I could go buy a bag of candy, sell it next class, and buy two Vanilla Cokes. Morals? Nah.

Granted, there were worse things I could have been addicted to at that age. In Junior High, I was friends with all the stoners and partiers who didn't give a crap about school. I don't know why I didn't ever take up drugs...but I didn't.

The last year of Colorado was better though. I started making friends, enjoying life--but still constantly on a sugar high. Then I moved back, and was miserable again. I didn't realize how out of control I was until a year later. I checked a pay stub from Safeway and realized that just working part time, I'd made $4500. The only thing I had actually bought was a guitar and amp: $500. Where did that $4000 go? Candy. chips. Pop.

I was so disgusted with myself. I was also surprised I was still a functional human after all that junk. I painfully began to stop spending money on sugar. It was sooo hard. I started drinking a lot of juice instead of pop, and crackers instead of cookies. Slowly, I was able to just eat lots of fruit and pasta.

I know it sound really retarded and pathetic that I'm not talking about crack and ecstacy, but sugar was so accessible and acceptable that it had quite the grip on my life. It's a lot easier to talk yourself out of going to some sketchy street corner to buy drugs off a dealer who might stab you if he hasn't had his fix that day, than it is to convince yourself not to spend just four bucks on sour patch kids, chewy gobstoppers, and a slurpee before french class.

Anyways, to this day, I haven't entirely kicked the addiction. My teeth have not completely recovered  (they are always sensitive), and my bank account still takes unnecessary blows to buy snacks. There's no moral to this story. No happy ending where everything is all better.

I guess it's on my mind because the most dangerous holiday of the year for me is quickly approaching:

Halloween.

DUN DUN DUN

Spicy Song Of The Week

I can't even remember the last week. What happened? Was it warm? No? That's okay.
Because I can't remember.


Spicy Song Of The Week is another chill song. I found it on the soundtrack for 'The Last Kiss.' I don't remember watching that movie, but the soundtrack is pretty impressive. If you're into the chill acoustic stuff, make sure you own the Garden State soundtrack as well. Zach Braff is undeniably a soundtrack genius.

Paperweight

Joshua Radin & Schuyler Fisk

The Last Kiss

I tend to zone out when I listen to this song. I dunno why. Maybe it's because I wish I could relate.

Let's make this a good week, aight? I should go pants shopping, finally.

I'm supposed to be writing a paper...

But all I can care about is:

Why do all the red candies taste best?

Do you remember when Jolly Ranchers were popular? If there was a bowl of Jolly Ranchers at some office, the red ones were always gone. I mean, being the sugar addict I was (am), I didn't much care as long as I could covertly steal one before the receptionist offered it to me and then another when she saw me eyeing them. Ha. Sucker. There's also the move of reaching for one Jolly Rancher with your index finger and thumb, and also grabbing one with your pinky and palm. I still use that one to this day.

Why red? Why can't black be the uber cool candy colour to have. Dark, full of mystery, and bold. Oh but wait.. licorice is black, and we couldn't possibly live without that delicious flavour. Pssshhh.

I'm trying to write a paper on spatial syntax and constructs of power in the western home. And this post is officially longer than my paper. Pass the wine gums!

Chicken or the Egg?

I was stackin apples a couple days ago, and began pondering some heavy stuff. How much control do we really have over our lives? Are there universal ingredients to perfect happiness, or is it relative to everyone based on personality? And above all, which came first: The Chicken or the Egg?


AHA! Now THAT'S a question I believe I can answer. It took some careful speculation and hypothesizing, and several other scientifically based actions as I questioned how something could come from nothing, and so forth.

And then I had an epiphany.

My friends, the real question is: the barbecue or the frying pan? Here's why:

 Law number A: If there was a need to cook a new item, that need would be met...and therefore that item would be cooked. I believe Darwin said this, in some form or another.

If that new item was the egg, then surely these Neanderthals wouldn't bother with a barbecue for the chicken, as they'd wrack their jelly-brains for a way to cook this potentially delicious new egg.

And if the chicken came first, then they wouldn't waste their time with a frying pan. They'd toss the bird on a rotisserie spit and barbecue that sucker. Right?

That's detective work. Here's where it gets interesting.

The cast-iron frying pan couldn't have possibly been invented until the Iron Age (circa 1000 BCE), with the arrival of Teflon not until a few years later.

The idea of cooking something over hot coals is clearly much older than that, as some archeological sites have found remnants of BroilKing manuals from 25 000 years ago.  Back then you bought a 'build your own fire' kit. So we can safely assume that since the barbecue was invented first, the Chicken, in fact, must have existed before the egg. Cause and effect.

So where were these chickens coming from if there were no eggs?

It wasn't until the failing numbers of Storks stopped bringing baby chickens to their mothers that evolution introduced a new adaptation: the egg. And that gave way to the birth of the iron age, as suddenly humanity needed a frying pan.

I'm glad safeway pays me to come up with this stuff.

And just so you know:
I updated Wikipedia with this theory so everyone will know the truth. You're welcome.

I think all this pondering of eggs is because I stupidly purchases 120 extra large eggs a week ago. Only three people eat eggs in my house. So in order to finish them in even a MONTH, we need to eat 30 eggs a week, that's 10 eggs a person per week. That's too many eggs. I could go for some chicken.

I Miss My Sister

My younger sister, Teja, has been gone three months as part of an exchange trip. She just left Quebec, and now she's off to Mali for the remaining three months. The wonderful picture of autumn was taken by her before she left for Africa. Teja is one of those people who consistently shows me up in everything, including academics. She is super hard working, too wise, and a great friend. We need more people like Teja in our lives, that's for sure. But she ain't dead, she's just saving the world one day at a time. So let's stop talking like it's a freakin' eulogy.

Instead, let's make fun of her.

Ah yes...there's the Josh we know.

A long while back (three years ago?), we were taking care of our two much-younger siblings, and had just finished putting them to bed. She, of course, did most of the work, and I did whatever I felt like. In this case, it was playing Playstation. Anyone else have trouble pausing Turok to do chores?

"Hey, Teja," I said, as she came down the stairs after putting the kids to bed, "The dog needs to go out." I almost never refer to the dog by its name, Ginger, for fear that it might think I like it. And to think I spent HOURS arguing with my parents when I was 10 about how it was terribly unfair and outright dumb that we couldn't have a cute widdle puppy dawg to pway wif when we gots home from book-learnin'. But that fad died and the dog lives on. So here we are, 8 years later, and I don't even want to walk outside and watch it pee. Can ya blame me?

Sshh.

"Josh, you take her out. I'm going to feed her after."

"Nah..you can take her out too. I'm busy."

"I have a TON of homework to do and dishes aren't done yet!"

"Ok," I sighed. I can be reasonable. "Tell you what. We'll flip a coin. Heads, I win. Tails, you lose. Aight?"

"...fine. But if I win, you're feeding her--and doing the dishes too."

"Ok."

And so I flipped that quarter and let it land right on the floor so she would know I hadn't rigged this in any way.

"Tails. You lose."

"Gah!" she said, as she went to grab a leash.

I chuckled to myself evilly as I realised I was getting away with this.

(If you haven't figured this out already...this joke's on you too)

As she's heading out the door, she throws a glance at me and sees my suspicious smile. Her eyes widen and she gasps. "Wait a minute!"

Oh no, I thought. She's figured it out.

She walked towards me with an outstretched hand, brows furrowed. "Let me see both sides of that coin!"

Miss you lots!

Also...

*~^~^~50th Post~^~^~*

Booya.

The Value of Randomness

If you go somewhere expecting something meaningful or amazing to happen, something probably will happen.

Not that anything would have happened differently.

You would have just noticed it.

Or maybe, it would have happened differently.

I can convince myself that if i stand at a bus stop and keep waiting, I'll eventually find a reason why i needed to come here. If you can make an impromptu decision to go some random place, sit on some random bench, or call some random friend with the idea that it will be working towards some yet-to-be discovered goal or solution, you'll probably end up finding the meaning in that situation that was there all along. It's a fine line between self-fulfilling (if you expect it, you'll find it) and stopping to smell the roses ('it' was there the whole time).

When you have an urge to do something random, follow it with the understanding that you'll probably be able to learn something from it or gain something--possibly by helping someone else out. It's a cool thought, anyways. It makes life more exciting when you assume there's more going on than you initially perceive.

Just remember, Randomness is the name of this game.

I guess I've recently met a few people who seem to have really rigid and structured lives, and I'm just confronted with the idea that we should all relax a little bit, take a step back, and therefore notice a little more detail about whatever it is we fill our days with.

I'll probably come back to this idea later. Also, you can expect to see some edgy, opinionated posts that will make you want to steal passifiers from babies and break your grandmas best china that she only uses 'when important people come over' (well then what does that make me?) because it'll be so cynical. Actually, it won't make you feel like that at all (or at least it shouldn't)....but I wish my words had that kind of power. Because if I can't use the china, then no one can.

Spicy Song Of The Week

I'm not gonna lie. I'm still not over last week's Spicy Song Of The Week. Perhaps it's because it got a late start...more likely, though, is that Manchester Orchestra is SO AWESOME!

But I don't want to hurt the feelings of this week's love, so we'll move along, like rebound relationship that actually ends up working out. This week I urge you more than ever to listen to this song. They are also in my top six favourite bands. They are a fall and winter band in mood. On Friday, I'll be seeing them play at SAIT!

Don`t Waste Your Breath
Pilot Speed

Caught By The Window

Described my most as heartfelt, melodic, and fervent, they speak to me. For the past four years, once the snow begins to fall, I start listening to these guys, and I lose myself in it. Granted, their most recent record is nothing special, but it doesn't take away from their previous work. If you can sit on the couch with a blanket around you, mug of steaming tea in hand, and listen to this song while staring out into the cold gray abyss that is settling over the city, your life will temporarily be complete. Now I understand it's a bit early to be talking of snow, and I apologize for that....however, don't be ridiculous. It's cold out there. Sersly.

The Crunching Of Leaves

I didn't really make plans with anyone today. Which is normally not a big deal, but this week has been a grand series of highs and lows and twists and turns. And no one likes to go on a roller coaster alone. Actually, I don't even like roller coasters.

I went for a slow walk with no destination in mind, and it turned out to be somewhat meditative. I walked along the very edge of the sidewalk, where all the windswept and yellowing leaves collect as they begin to fall from the trees. Every step became very rhythmic as one foot would land on concrete and the other would crunch the leaves. Such a satisfying feeling. It's like audible progress; every stride takes me further into who-knows-what. But the endpoint is not the reason I'm walking. It's for that crunch of every meaningful step forward.
Sounds like a metaphor.

I'm definitely a people person. I go crazy pretty quickly when I'm alone. It's not necessarily that I don't like silence, or that being alone makes me think about things that I'd rather glaze over with meaningless conversation. I could thoroughly enjoy that same walk if someone was walking along beside me in silence, making sporadic comments about a well kept tree on the left, or a old lady contentedly raking leaves on the right. Just sharing that random experience with someone can be rewarding for me. You know the way kids are with grown-ups, that they can say anything and it wouldn't be a big deal...but they just talk about the simple stuff.



Fall is an interesting time, isn't it? We go back to school, slightly pessimistic in a way, because we can't say things like "I'm so excited for summer!". We know that we are getting back into that grim life of homework and exams and studying. It can only get colder and grayer from here. After such a high which we call summer, it can be a bit depressing. But at the same time, going to school means meeting new people, learning and doing new things. We start playing our favorite sports in the mornings; we develop that routine. We have a chance to be productive again. It's almost like the death of summer is more or less a rebirth for people. September is that fresh start. It's optimistic in that sense, right? That 'go get em' attitude seems to prevail.

I feel that certain numbness coming on again, though. Like I'm about to 'check out' and coast on through. This last week was a week of grand possibility, one might say. But as we hit the weekend and head into the next week, it feels like we're a on that hamster wheel. On and on and on. Round and round. Maybe in your own way, you can relate. Because I'm sure this seems extremely vague.

What is it I'm looking for? Someone? Something? A goal? A plan? Novelty? A constructive routine? Jelly beans?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

I'll keep on keeping on, for sure. Don't get me wrong: I'm in no way miserable about life. I'm very excited to see what happens. I want to achieve and win and grow. I just have forgotten why we push so hard for success and perfection. I need a reason.

I guess for now, that perfect sound of leaves beneath my feet is reason enough to keep me ambling along. What a beautiful day!

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.