Sunday, March 10, 2013


I sometimes wish I was able to say what's on my mind without fear of the worst outcomes.
If I knew for sure, I'd say something. I'm only half certain, so at the moment I'm still trying to figure out if I should.

Friday, January 18, 2013



This is just a blog post to remind you to stop following me if you've removed as a friend elsewhere. Because why would you follow someone like me? :)

Friday, August 31, 2012


Someone recently told me that I should seek help to talk to someone about my problem because we had gotten into an argument via text message.

My immediate response was to turn off the phone.

But I got to thinking about my problem, and I finally came to realize what precisely that problem was.
You see, there are only two people I truly argue with, and one of them is my mother. I haven’t argued with her for quite some time though, especially since I moved away. Sometimes having your own privacy is the best remedy for clashing personalities.

But this second person is a friend of mine, and she’s been a friend for a very long time, despite many, many circumstances that could have led to the ending of said friendship.

I argue with her because she talks to me like I simply do not matter. My opinions don’t matter. My time doesn’t matter. My feelings don’t matter.

She is the one who is constantly making me wait and standing me up because she has more important things to do and simply can’t be bothered to let me know she’s decided to go on and do something else. She talks to me like I’m beneath her.

When you call her out on her bad behaviour she gets this little guilty grin on her face and she bloody laughs. She acts like a kid that’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar – she knows she’s guilty, and is trying to pretend to feel remorse, yet obviously does not regret her actions. Her apologies are forced by others, and she says them with a smile. She doesn’t mean it.

If I ask her if she wants to do something, instead of telling me no when she doesn’t, she simply ignores my message. She thinks that if she doesn’t give me a reply, then obviously I haven’t asked her.

She acts like I do not exist unless she is focusing her attention on me.

For example:

I can send her multiple messages and she won’t reply. But if I won’t reply to ONE text from her, she immediately calls me, without a care if I’m busy or not. She demands my attention NOW because I can’t possibly be DRIVING or taking a bath or SLEEPING when she bloody texts me.

She thinks it is okay to move her furniture at midnight when she knows that her neighbour below her (me) is trying to sleep. And by moving her furniture, I mean dragging it across her hardwood floors. You know what the sound of screeching furniture sounds like when you’re sleeping? Murder.

I have helped her numerous times in the past. I’ve helped her move. I’ve picked up the tab for her baby formula when she forgot her debit card at home (took me two weeks to get that money back because she “couldn’t afford it” and then I had to get it from her husband). I’ve given her toys for her baby, and purchased clothes for the baby just because I think it is cute and would look good on the baby. I was there for her when other friends abandoned her. I made homemade fries for her when she craved them but couldn’t stand the smell of the fries cooking in the kitchen.

I have done this because I am a friend.

And what do I get in return? I ask her if she can help me pack, and she immediately tries looking for an excuse not to help. Her husband offers his help to me for my moving day, and she turns to him and says, “Don’t promise anything. You might be doing something that day.”

What. The. Fuck.


That’s the sort of thanks I get for being a FRIEND?

And then she has the nerve to tell me that I have a problem. Me? I have the problem?

This is the lady who says, “I’ll be down in 45 minutes,” when we agree to go on a walk down to the mall where I need to pick up some birthday gifts. Well, 45 minutes go by and she still hasn’t shown up. Another half hour goes by and I’m looking at the clock and thinking if we don’t go soon the mall will close.

So I left, walking on my own. I picked up my gifts, and headed back home. Two hours had gone by since the time she was supposed to meet me. She sends me a text two hours late saying she had decided to take a nap and overslept. If you decided to take the nap, why didn’t you set an alarm?

She agrees to plans with me, and then goes shopping half an hour beforehand.

She is never on time. Never.

We once had plans to go to a movie and she showed up an hour late still expecting to go. What? Do you think the movie theatre put the screening on hold just for you? Seriously?!

I have been frustrated by her lack of respect for years now. Years.

So do I have a problem? Is something bothering me?

Yes. Yes, I do have a problem. My problem is her.

She treats me like shit and yet expects me to love her unconditionally?

I’m sorry, but there comes a point where I tell myself I’ve taken enough abuse, and that I will not stand for more.

My problem, dear friend, is that while I’m a good friend to you, you are a horrible friend to me.

My problem is that you’re a jerk.

And so, I have found the solution to that problem. You will obviously never change your behaviour patterns to be a better person, so why should I continue to take the abuse?

As of that text “You really should talk to someone about what actually is bothering u”, I’m done.

You will never understand that what bothers me is your treatment of me. You have used psychological manipulation on me. You have talked to me like I am a five year old. You have ignored me.

I know this is hard for you to believe, friend, but what bothers me is that you just don’t give a shit.

And so I’m done.

I think the healthiest choice for me is to move on from this friendship. It was never a good friendship, and it never will be.


Monday, July 11, 2011

Technology Based Society

I feel as though we, as a people, have become too dependent on technology. And I’m including myself in this. Barely a day goes by that I’m not in contact with a computer for at least a few minutes. My cell phone is always with me, in case someone needs to get in contact. And it’s not just a cell phone, it’s a smart phone. And I’m having a hard time convincing myself that I should downgrade to a regular phone, and keep away from Blackberry’s, iPhones, and Androids. I don’t need one, so why get one?

But it’s hard to keep to the necessities when others judge you by the lack of current technology you have on hand. I consider myself a geek, and most of my friends are usually not only the type to buy the latest and greatest technology, but they’re also tech savvy, meaning they understand the full potential for that which they purchase (unlike most of the masses).

I’ve been ridiculed for having a 27inch flat screen TV mounted on my wall. Mind you, considering the size of my apartment, I can actually understand that issue. I’ve recently updated my TV to a 40inch Samsung HDTV. It’s shiny, it’s flashy, and it matches my old school black Pioneer speakers from the 70s, not only in looks, but in size and power. But I remember a time when my 27inch TV would have been fairly big.

However, when people ridicule me for owning a smart phone that’s three years old, I wonder what sort of attitude I’d get from my friends if I downgraded to a small, efficient cell phone, that doesn’t do much other than texting and phoning. What then?

I remember what life used to be like 20 years ago. I was five years old, and we had a huge TV that was more a piece of furniture than anything else. We didn’t need a TV stand for it. The VCR and satellite box (we were lucky enough to have American satellite) sat on top of the TV, and it took up a

pretty big corner of the room. It was big, bulky, and was certainly not HD.

My mother never received phone calls while she was out of the house. While my aunt had a cell phone, she was the only person I knew who actually had one. It was a giant thing with a battery so large that I eventually nicknamed it The Brick, when I inherited it at a time when cell phones were becoming popular. But back in 1991 cell phones weren’t common. Neither were computers, let alone the internet. In 1991, we didn’t even have a 386.

In today’s society, it’s rare to see someone under the age of 50 without a cell phone attached to their hip. We are a culture that is constantly on the go, and constantly letting people know we are on the go. What happened to taking only a boombox and a beach ball to the beach? Today, you can even bring your laptop to the beach, with an internet connection, and send emails and play Farmville from the comfort of your beach towel! Why someone would want to do that, I’m not sure.

But we are always in touch with everyone. It’s getting a bit much. People can reach me 24/7. There is rarely a time when I can’t be reached by email, IM, text, or phone call. I’m sad to admit that a few weeks ago my cell phone crashed, and wouldn’t restart for a good portion of the day. I honestly felt out of touch. I couldn’t update statuses (statusii??), I couldn’t call anyone. I was reliant solely on my feet, and the two people I was with.

In today’s society, how often do you receive something in the mail other than a bill or a flyer? It seems to me that most people send correspondence via the internet, and why not really? An email can be sent across the world in mere seconds while a letter could take weeks. And while I see the potential for this, it still saddens me. In an effort to make getting the mail slightly more exciting, I’ve been exchanging postcards with people. I have over 300 postcards, and every day there’s always that chance that another one might be coming in. I just never know. But how many people actually do send postcards? How many people actually have a real penpal. One who you don’t talk to on a day to day basis, someone you only get a letter from every few weeks or months?

With the internet, it has become moot. Why would I send a letter, when I can talk to my friend in Australia on an IM client, and get a reply back instantly? We’re losing what we used to be. We don’t need to anticipate correspondence. We get it immediately. But where’s the fun in that? Do you get a thrill of happiness when you open your email each day and see a message from a friend you never get to see?

With the advance of technology, we’ve begun to live in the moment. We no longer live for the future, for the moments that will eventually come, because we don’t need to wait anymore. Those moments can come instantaneously. There’s no waiting period, it’s just suddenly there. Life just doesn’t seem that exciting when we take everything for granted.

Our society is also less hands on. I fear that if technology was completely wiped out tomorrow, we’d all be screwed. North America would not be able to handle it. Most people my age probably couldn’t tell you how to start a fire, even with a lighter.

What happened to having life skills? How many people actually cook these days? How many people sew their own clothing?

We’ve become impatient. We’ve become focused on instant-gratification.

Is this the society we dreamt of in the 60s?

Thursday, May 26, 2011

But what do you say to someone when they've heard you say it all?

It’s been such a long time since I’ve written. And I don’t mean blogging. I mean I haven’t written anything in ages. No short stories, and certainly not my novel. It’s a horrible thing to feel unmotivated.

The past few months have been emotionally tiring for me. Life seemed bleak, and the emotional turmoil I felt was almost unbearable.

Through no choice of my own other than stubbornness, the subject of my depression appears to have been removed from my life, even if only temporarily. I am not quite certain whether this will remain, but I can only hope it does.

I have been feeling so much better these past few weeks, and perhaps it is time to start writing again. Or maybe I should start reading what I wrote, and get rid of what appears to be beyond ridiculous, so that I may better the novel I started over a year and a half ago. By reading it, I will also get back into the feel of it, and perhaps continue to writing again.

I realize I haven’t been blogging very often, and I apologize. Originally this blog was meant for anything X-Files related, but it soon became apparent that it was meant for my more intelligent ramblings and ravings.

As of recently, I’ve nothing intelligent to rant about, but perhaps that too will change in the near future. I might spend time focusing on subjects worth studying, which would only lead to opinions I would need to voice.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Rachel Morgan

This blog post is about the Kim Harrison novels and so there will most definitely be spoilers regarding the story, right up to the last novel.

Last night Kim Harrison made me cry for the second time.

I have been reading Kim Harrison’s Rachel Morgan series since probably August or September. Right around the time I finished reading the Southern Vampire Mysteries (I ran out). And I read the books nonstop until the first week of February when I finished the last book published and had to wait two and a half weeks for the next book to hit the shelves. Is anyone surprised that I ran across the road at work to preorder Black Magic Sanction as soon as I finished reading White Witch, Black Curse?

I started reading her books when my mother picked up the first two in a compilation book. So far, there are eight books out, with the possibility for three more. Which is great. It was hard to get into the Rachel Morgan series initially. You felt like you were jumping in mid-book, and at first I wondered whether or not I was reading a second book. This wasn’t the case. Kim Harrison’s universe is just so elaborate, that I imagine the only way you can become familiar with it is by continuously being there. It wasn’t created first hand in Dead Witch Walking, but seemed to have existed long before it. I like that, even if it was hard to understand at first.

By the end of the second book, The Good, the Bad, and the Undead I was hooked. I ended up running to the aforementioned bookstore and buying a copy of each of the novels in the series. And I’ve been reading ever since. Sometimes it takes me awhile to get through a book, and other times I’ll eat it right up. Kinda like what I’m doing right now with the latest one.

I love her characters so much. I hate the ones she wants me to hate, and I love the ones she wants me to love. And I have underlying feelings of love for ones that I initially hate. She’s good at changing your views of her characters without you realizing that’s her entire plan. They are complex people with pasts, and futures, and you wonder what has happened to them in the past to make them the way they are.

Kim Harrison may have made it difficult to draw just anyone in to her universe, but perhaps this is a good thing. My mother doesn’t seem to understand my obsession with the novels – but she’s only read two books. I’m on the eighth book, and I just can’t get enough of Rachel, Trent, Jenks, Ivy - everyone!

There’s one thing Kim Harrison is capable of that most authors aren’t. And that is to make me cry. Before I started reading Kim Harrison, my favourite series was the Dark Tower by Stephen King. I loved the characters immensely, and despite the narcissism he pulled when putting himself in his own story, I loved how he ended the series. I thought his work to be a great piece of art. And it is. He never made me cry. Not once. Not even when Jake died for the second time. Sure I felt a twinge, but you didn’t see tears streaming down my cheeks. And I certainly didn’t put the book down in anger at the author for killing someone off.

But Kim Harrison’s novels are different.

She doesn’t write up a storm like King does – well, her books are always 400+ pages long, so maybe I’m wrong. But she spends more time focusing on the characters themselves than on their surroundings. And I think that’s important. I would rather know what is going on inside of Rachel’s head than know exactly what colour the paint above the door she just passed through was.

I love that she uses the first person. Being inside Rachel’s head means I can’t get inside Trent’s head, or Nick’s head, or Kisten’s head. It means I have to wonder what is going on, just like Rachel does. Although sometimes I understand things better than Rachel, usually I’m just as lost.

What is going on between Rachel and Trenton? There is the surface hatred, and anger, but underneath are tones of attraction and connection that are hard not to miss, although Rachel seems oblivious to it. If I had to choose a character for her to end up with (aside from one other) I guess it would have to be Trent. I wouldn’t want her to be with Pierce, Nick, Lee, Marshall, David, etc.

Trent may have started out as the bad guy – someone we all hated – but he ended up being just as complex as Rachel, and I started having feelings aside from hatred for the character. He had his own battles to fight, and sure he didn’t fight them fair – but let’s face it, life can’t be either black or white. There’s always shades of grey. And isn’t that what the entire series is about? Just because something is labelled taboo doesn’t always mean it is wrong. It just depends on the circumstances.

Sure Trent is a coldblooded killer, there’s no denying that. But for him, it’s to save his own race. The plight of the elves has to account for some of what he’s done, right? I’m not trying to stand up for him, I’m just trying to see the good that is in his character. There is good in there… every now and then he does something for Rachel that doesn’t benefit himself, and it makes one wonder. Does he truly care for her, but tries to deny that fact even to himself? I would like to think so.

But I have most definitely digressed. Kim Harrison has made me cry twice now.

That first time… she killed Kisten.

She killed off Kisten. And she made me cry… silently, my back turned away from the people in the room, I wept for a character I had fallen in love with from the first time she had described him. Kisten had style, he had charm, charisma, and above all, he held my heart in the palm of his hand. I’ll be the first to admit that I love blue eyed vampires with long blonde hair *cough*EricNorthman*cough* with charisma. What can I say? Anne Rice lured me in to such a stereotyped vampire with Lestat and Marius. But it wasn’t just what Kisten looked like (after all, he did have to dye his hair that beautiful blonde). It was who he was that made me love him. The ability to teach Rachel how to dress sophisticated just by rummaging through the back of her closet. Wanting her to overpower him. I liked it all, every part of him.

And then she ended his life too soon. And I wept for the loss of a beautiful creation. I put down the book for two days, and refused to read. Mind you, it wasn’t so hard… after all, I was currently on vacation and actually quite busy. But I made a note of not reading. I was angry at Harrison for killing Kisten off. To this day I don’t agree with it, even if I understand why she did it. I disagree because it really hurt. But life isn’t all about fluffy clouds, and thorn less roses, now is it? So I suppose she made the books that much more real to me.

I’m now ready for Rachel to move on to someone else even as I write fanfictions about Kisten. I don’t want her with Pierce, although I do enjoy the chemistry between the two. Yes, I’m holding out for that bad-ass elf. Maybe it has to do with the hair thing?

Either way…

She killed another character off last night. It was a long time coming, and I’m not overly surprised she did it. But I certainly was surprised at how she did it. I cried for an entire chapter… how she wrote the grieving, the horror of what had happened. She’s an amazing author to get that kind of reaction out of me.

Some moments I’m laughing, and others I’m crying, but the entire time I’m constantly on the edge of my seat. She’s a damn good read, and I suggest to everyone who reads my blogs to pick up one of her books and give her a try. She might make you cry, but you know what? It’s worth it… because she’ll also bring you some amazing moments.

I dreamt last night of Jenks and his family. I’m not too surprised.

Good job, Kim Harrison. I’ve never been more impressed by an author’s ability to move me.

What am I going to do when I finish this book?

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays

You know what?
I’m happy for you, that you believe in Christ, and understand the true meaning of Christmas. That’s great.

But what really gets my goat is when one of these Christians gets all uppity about the phrase “Happy Holidays”. I can semi-understand them getting offended when people want to call the “Christmas Tree” a holiday tree. Semi, mind you. If these people knew the actual origins of a lot of their beloved Christmas rituals, perhaps they would stop doing them. And maybe that would be for the better. I could certainly think of a few things that would be better than cutting down hundreds of pine trees each winter (hmm, like let them grow and thrive and even produce oxygen).

But I digress. No matter how interesting the origins of the Christmas tree are, I’m blogging to discuss the Christian stubbornness to say “Happy Holidays” to people, instead of Merry Christmas. And I realize not all Christians do this, but there are a certain amount that do.

First and foremost, the actual religious leaders admit that Christ was not born on Christmas Day. Christmas Day was chosen because it’s in the middle of the winter and people needed something to look forward to during those cold, dark nights. And what better way to choose a religious holiday then by stealing one from the pagans? You know, winter solstice. It was celebrated by pagans long before Christmas Day became a holiday.

When I was a child, and still to this day, I watched the original Christmas Eve on Sesame Street movie. Do you remember it? Ernie and Bert exchange presents, and by so doing give away their most prized possessions. Everyone plays crack-the-whip and Oscar goes flying through not one, but two walls (oh, how I remember rewinding the tape over and over when he said, “Let’s go back and do that again!”). Big Bird learns to skate, and then goes in search of Santa, because Oscar said Santa wouldn’t be able to fit down those itty bitty chimneys. Ah, but it was such a wonderful movie.

Now, the one thing in the entire movie that actually speaks to me today takes all of two seconds. Back in the day, it was probably lost on me, but every time I see it now, I kinda feel warm and fuzzy and know that some people out there are aware that there is more than one religion and that we should respect them all.

I’m talking about Bob.

Yah, I don’t know who I’m talking about either. But Bob is a special character. As Bob was walking through the streets, he ran into Mr. Hooper. Does anyone recall who Mr. Hooper is? The man who played Hooper died in 1982, and they never did replace his character. Either way, Mr. Hooper was the corner store owner, and he was on his way over to Bert and Ernie’s (I think) to bring them Christmas gifts.

Bob and Mr. Hooper ran into each other, and as they made some small talk, Mr. Hooper said, “Merry Christmas” to Bob. It was, after all, Christmas Eve. But do you know what Bob said in return? No, he didn’t say “Merry Christmas” back, as is the generally correct response to such a saying. No, Bob respected Mr. Hooper’s own religious beliefs, and said, “Happy Hanukah” instead.

Huzzah! What’s this?! Acknowledging a religion that is not his own?! How dare he!! Well, if you look at it from the other perspective, Mr. Hooper was also acknowledging Bob’s beliefs, and respecting them. One can only hope Bob would return the favour. And he did!! This is probably my second favourite moment in the entire movie (the first being Oscar crashing through two walls and enjoying it), because it shows children that respect is a two-way street, and that we all have remember this when issuing forth holiday greetings. And to think this movie was made in 1978, long before today!

I’m not trying to say that people would be offended by the words “Merry Christmas”. I’m just saying I’d love to see more respect for the other religions. Happy Holidays is just a way to encompass all of the religious holidays that are being celebrated this time of year, and I think that’s a great idea.

Look at it this way:

If I knew you were Christian, I would say “Merry Christmas” to you. But if you knew I was not Christian but say, Jewish, would you give me the same respect, and wish me a “Happy Hanukah,”?

Hmm… food for thought.