freakin' weekends, and other assorted things

now playing: neil young // silver and gold album. and the riff in buffalo springfield again rocks. seriously. how can you not love neil? I need to buy more neil. I only currently possess 2 neil albums. Pretty sure one doesn't count, cause it's rock, but whatever. neil's done so much. gots to respec' that.

So, today was a sunday: went to church with the p's, wrestled a toilet (more on that later), worked on some design stuff, and thought about the future. Watched some football and return to me. Learned some stuff on the guitar. I'm working on scales, I'm getting a little better. It's such a brute force thing tho. You just have to keep doing it until you're good at it. I hate stuff like that. oh well, builds patience.

Also, I started using firefox from time to time this weekend. Partly because I'm doing design stuff and need to be able to cross check with firefox. I should probably check with opera too, but I'm lazy. Let me just say though, firefox = super slick, super quick, and super hot. Me likey.

So, sometimes in life you just gotta wrestle a toilet. For example, suppose you moved into a house, and they had this nasty looking toilet seat on the toilet. and it was rusted on. And it needed to be replaced. And the nuts on the rusted bolts were plastic. The logical approach would be to cut through it, no? Welp, thats what I did. It worked out okay. Except for the part where the toilet is only 4 inches from the wall on the one side, and therefore very difficult to see up under. There I was with a utility knife and a chick's mirror (the chick being my mom)—I felt like McGuyver. It was awesome. And then the army ants came, but I blew them up with a bomb made out of duct tape, twine and a knife. Sound impossible? Possibly, but I'm McGuyver. I did win the battle, by the way. One battle down, many more to go. Tomorrow I learn lessons with drills, and soon I'll be learning lessons of snowblowers (yay! Anything beats shovelling!)

One last thing: to chase a dream? you tell me: read the part about sound reinforcement then tell me what you think. Chasing dreams? Serious decisions? So confused? MMM HMM.


waking up

now playing: the red sox beating the cardinals! Whoo hoo! Sox in four!

Firstly: to my friends who read my last post and commented, thank you so much. It's greatly appreciated. Danielle, your comment was poetic. I really liked Motionless Dreamer. I may embroider it on a pillow. (-: Mom, next time just say who you are. Also, no, i haven't cleaned my room yet.

So, I woke up this morning to the shreik of my alarm. My alarm sounds like an air raid siren. It's tough. It's like 1939 London... my room is dark, but man the sirens won't stop. Of course, i hit snooze like 30 times before I hit the showers, but whatever. Anyway, as I woke up to my air raid siren, I got to thinking (A dangerous pastime, I know... man, Gaston was in deep smit for that Belle chick) about how some people wake up to things like... "The mellifluous sounds of chipmunks in fall," "John Tesh sings 60's tv scenes," and "Ocean waves" featuring the saxophone of Kenny G laid over waves breaking. Yay.

I came up with a plan for something better. You know how in Sci-Fi, they're always inventing robots that'll be your friend, or run your business, or take care of your kids? That stuff's garbage. I've come up with the best robot idea EVER!!! We'll call it "The Sargeant MeetYourDoom Wake Up Robot V. CMMCCXCXVII © ® ™." Instead of taking care of your kids, or other stuff that you should be doing yourself, it'll serve one purpose, and one purpose only: getting your sorry rear out of bed. It'll scream in your face, it'll make crass comments about the shape your in. It might even curse every once in a while. All so that you get up on time. Really, it'll be great! It'll even have a few moves so that if you ever try to retaliate against it, you find yourself staring up from the floor, wondering how you ended up there.

Not only that, think about the opportunities for customization! You could have different memory chips so that "The Sargeant MeetYourDoom Wake Up Robot V. CMMCCXCXVII © ® ™" could take on the characteristics of your favorite movie drill sargeants / military personnel. The "Red Dawn" Chip makes him talk like a cuban or a russian. Every once in a while, if you shout "Wolverines!" you score a bonus 10 minutes of sleep. But only every once in a while. The "Few Good Men" chip turns it into Jack Nicholson... he wakes you up by puffing a cigar in your face, and screaming about whether or not you can handle the truth. Fact of the matter is, you can't. Always popular, the "In the Army Now" chip turns it into Pauly Shore. This is notoriously easy to ignore, until he starts talking about burritos. Burritos always wake me up.

This product is sheer genius. I'm going to buy five of them. Cause lets face it, I'll figure out some way to defeat the first four .That fifth one though, he'll get me up for sure. For now, I'll just stick to the air raid siren. And my snooze button.


big thing // little thing

So, here's what I'm trying to figure out: how are we to look at our lives and separate the big things from the little things?

See, it'd be easy to look at the above statement and say, "Wow, this guy is desperate to sound deep." But, for once, I don't think that's the case (although I'm aware that deep inside of me, right next to my desire to be Wolverine or the Incredible Hulk, is a desire to be cool that manifests itself all the time in ridiculous ways). See, I'm seriously at that point in my life where I'm trying to sort out the important from the unimportant. Why? Well... I've been trying to figure that out too.

I think we reach this point in life where we feel the societal expectation is that if we're asked by a pretty girl, "what are you doing with the rest of your life?" we'll be able to give a logical, honest, good answer. So, we come up with plans. We become teachers and electricians and project editors. Not necessarily because it's where we think God wants us (although at times we're smart enough to let that play into it), more because, eh, it keeps people off our backs and it helps us to sleep at night.

Don't get me wrong. I'm content with my job and I feel like I'm where God would have me for this stage in my life. I just don't understand where it's going.

Think about it: I've got this song in my head called T-Shirt by Derek Webb, the first line says "They'll know us by the T-Shirts that we wear." I'm going to hijack the line from it's intended purpose (while encouraging you to BUY BUY BUY his new album), and cross apply.

My dad is the ultimate collector of shirts. He has one of my old telus shirts, an old Tim Horton's shirt, various computer and food supply company shirts, and so much CN Railway apparrel that the company actually called about the catalogue shoot. When I worked at Telus, I was easily identifiable by my uniform. When I worked at Subway, it was even easier to spot (stupid visor making my forehead look huge). As much as uniforms are the bane of people's existence, they're nice cause people know who you are from them. I have a lifeguard sweater—even though I'm not a lifeguard per se. I wear it, and people think that I was a responsible young adult (at least, until they see eye candy on the sleeve). It identifies me as something. So, following the T-Shirt analogy, what would I put on a t-shirt to identify where I'm at right now?

"Hasn't got a clue what he's doing"
"Spends more time on the msn messenger than developing a skill set"
"Going my way? Care to enlighten me?"

Obviously I'm being overly dramatic. But, where does it go from here? What's next on the list of things to do? I really don't know. I need to be able to establish priorities and a list of goals, but I don't know how. What are the criteria by which we do that? Any ideas? To quote Jar Jar Binks, "Any help here would be hot!"

I'm done for now. I'll give you more as I figure more out.


hehehe... baseball, old songs, and jackie chan

now playing: commercials in between the yankees and bosox trading off who is batting and who is pitching. Will it ever end?

Yeah, so... i'm not usually a fan of baseball, but this is some intense sports going on here... these guys are hardcore in a jack black, legend of the rent sort of way. And I respect that. And also, I hate teams like the yankees (see manchester U, Arsenal, Real Madrid, NY Rangers, Colorado Avalanche, Detroit Red Wings, and so on) who have too much money and not enough heart. So, i'd love to see Boston take it to 'em. Hence, I'm watching baseball for the first time in years.

Old songs... every once in a while I go back in my mind to songs I once tried to write with friends. One of my favorites is "This Silly Melancholy." Our buddy pete came up with the term, and we seriously never got much farther than having the title idea. I've tried to write it a hundred times, but i never get anywhere. Who knows, maybe I'm going about it all wrong... maybe it needs to be a rock song. Or a ballad. "That's way too fast! It's a ballad!" (Jimmy, That Thing You Do!) One day. One day.

Jackie Chan... what would I do right now if I was Jackie Chan? Here's the thing, i'd love to be a writer. I'd love to be able to write fiction, write non-fiction, write exciting stuff, write boring stuff. The problem seems to be that I have no ability at writing creatively. Seriously, Jackie Chan can't even speak english, and the guy makes all kinds of art. But then, he spent large amounts of time as a child standing on one foot in weird martial arts poses and stuff. What else would he do except come up with movie ideas in his head? Hence, the reason I'll never be a writer is North American "keep you occupied" culture. If I'd just been bored more, I'd be way more creative.

Yeah right.


days of yore

now playing: my nephew making car sounds as he moves an ugly blue school bus around. Crap, he's cute. They came to visit this weekend. It was... well, to use Code and Pyro's word... awexome. I like kids. Especially when, as another friend said, "as uncles, we get to hype them up on candy and chocolate and then they go home with someone else." Yep, that part rocks. Anyway, moving along.

So, I grew up to Boy Meets World. Seriously, it was the family show. I remember my older brother crying EVERY TIME Cory and Topanga broke up. No word of a lie. Today, I managed to catch an episode of Boy Meets World as i was chillin' with my nephews. (They're far more into Jimmy Neutron than boy meets world, but I weigh 210 pounds (yeah, lard butt), and they weigh about 50 and 30 pounds respectively... I've won every fight so far.) The whole crew was there, it was an episode from probably 97 or 98... and, well, I don't know... it'd didn't make me think anything really deep (except maybe that I'd still marry the girl who played Topanga... but that's actually not very deep at all. However, Danielle Fishel, if you're reading this, CALL ME!). But, it was good memories. TV is so over dramatic, yet not. They have a crisis every week, but then, don't we seem to have a crisis at least once a week? Even if it's just a mental one, they're there. I don't know. It made me feel warm and fuzzy. I miss good TV like Boy Meets World. The crap that's on now, well... just not worth watching.

Oh, also, as I logged in to type this post, I discovered something. You're reading the 101st post on andymack.blogspot.com. It's almost enough to make me get my own domain. When a TV program makes 100 episodes, it's a big deal. We're making history folks. Anyway, I just wanted to gloat a little. Unfortunately, I'm not as good as the Brothers Chap, so you won't find any easter eggs or anything. Maybe someday.

All right, I'm out like a fat kid in dodgeball. Canadian trivia for the day: in Canada, practise is a verb, but practice is a noun. So, I'm a practising doctor, but My practice is located at 222 Thiscitysucks, Belleville, Ontario. Funny, eh?


jazz doesn't resolve

now playing: the patriot... mel gibson's about to kill the bad guy. heath already died. hmm, can't really say i feel bad about that.

Okay, so yesterday we were at the local Christian Bookstore, and they happened to have a copy of a book sitting on their shelf (precisely one copy: no more, no less). This book had been recommended to me by some very intelligent people, and I'd been very interested in reading it at that point in time. Seeing it there, all alone, and kinda wedged between two books by stupid people, I thought, I should buy this. So I did. The book is called Blue Like Jazz and it is stupendous. Very cleverly written. I identify with him... especially in that i have friends like his... one like andy the protester, and one like tony the beatpoet. I disagree with his nonuse of a comma on introductory clauses, however, I imagine he wouldn't care much, and I really don't either. He's a clever writer, and I recommend him highly. That's Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. Wicked funny. Wicked Deep. Too hot for conservative Bible schools. Not really. A good Christian guy, with a slightly different viewpoint.

Thats about all I've got. Right now, I feel blue, but not like jazz... I believe it's going to resolve, eventually. Much love guys,