Musings of a Delusional Stereotypical Rebel

Technology Based Society

2011-07-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

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?

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

2011-05-26T14:19:00.000-07:00

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.

Rachel Morgan

2010-03-03T07:28:00.000-08:00

***SPOILER ALERT***
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.
***SPOILER ALERT***

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?

Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays

2009-12-01T08:01:00.001-08:00

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.

2009-11-17T08:02:00.001-08:00

I don’t talk about you very much. I’ve never really dwelled upon you in my blogs and journals. Every now and then you show interest in me, and I always feel it back. I’ve come to learn to not actually express the interest back, because every time I do, you seem to lose interest. It’s beyond me. It’s to the point that the last time you did show interest, I got fed up, put a firm foot down, and told myself, “No. Don’t even think about pursuing this, Kogo.”

I don’t enjoy the games you play.

I’d say you’re back to doing it again, I really would. Because it’s so obvious that you are. But I can’t lay the blame on you this time. I really can’t. Because this time… this time I started it.

My fault entirely.

I feel it though. I always do. No matter how many times I move on, and completely forget about ever being attracted to you (physically, emotionally, or any other way) I always am reminded when I open my mind’s eye again.

There’s just something about you that I can relate to, and that I feel comfortable around. I’m not scared of being rejected by you – perhaps because in your own way you’ve done it a few times, but always change your mind. I’m not certain what to make of all this, in all honesty.

When I was asked to compile a list of the things I look for in a mate, I thought about a few things and was shocked to realize you certainly fall under a lot of categories.

Just damn you. Damn you for being something I admire, no matter if you are unattainable.

But when I told you I was making a charm bag to attract a lover (as is what I am looking for), and you said, “Great. Tell me how it goes. Or maybe I’ll find out myself.”

Just…

Thanks for that.

*sigh*

2009-11-05T09:59:00.000-08:00

What I don't understand about people who are against the sealhunt is why they throw so much effort into saving a species that is in no way endangered, when there are other species' out there that could use there help. Like, I don't know... the 400 Northern Right Whales that are left in the entire world. Seems to me like their case is more... vital, than that of the 4.7 million Harp seals.

Just a thought.

Dear True Blood makeup artists.

2009-08-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

Please fix the following problem:

Kthxbai!

True Blood Obsession

2009-08-10T05:28:00.000-07:00

It's funny how obsessed I've become with the show True Blood, and with the books by Charlaine Harris, not to mention the characters themselves.

I didn't think I'd get to watch the new episode last night, but I did! I was officially 3 minutes late getting to the tv, and I even left all of my stuff in the trunk of the car until after I finished watching True Blood (and getting all gooey over every Eric Northman scene). However, even if I missed those first few minutes, last night's episode blew me away. It was amazing in so many aspects. And while I'm watching Eric on television try to deny his attraction and affection for Sookie Stackhouse, in the book, I'm reading Eric explain the curse the witch put over him, "The curse contained within the witch, the curse that activated when Clancy killed her... it was that I would be close to my heart's desire without ever realizing it."

Seriously. I think Eric and Sookie should just admit they're in love, and just BE TOGETHER instead of just denying it to themselves. Grr.

Every Monday I come into work and my coworker Adèle without a doubt will come over to my desk and wish to discuss the previous night's episode. This week we were both equally happy. We both notice how much Eric is definitely interested in Sookie. Poor Eric actually did try to save her, and still she goes running to Bill, who really only just walked in. If anything, it was Jason who saved the day, what with his being human and having a paintgun and all.

So, in my excitement for this show, I decided to start creating wallpapers for the different characters. I am in no way finished yet, but I want to show off SOME of my work. :D

I saved the best for last, of course. :)

PS - it looks like the graphics won't fit the blog, so it's being cut off. Just click on them to get to the original source. :)

I Dreamt of You

2009-07-29T14:17:00.001-07:00

I dreamt about you last night.

It’s not quite clear what my dream was about. It seemed a bit lost in the past. As if I were leaving Scotland again, or something.

All I know is that I was leaving a place – a house, Japanese style walls – and ahead of me was someone I kinda new. I was heading down a path that led into the woods. As I looked back, I saw you, striding along, as you always did. I don’t remember what you were wearing, but I do know you at least had a bag on your back.

I quickly faced forward again, not wanting you to know that I had spotted you. I feared the reaction I would get if you recognized me, and so I quickened my steps, as I continued forward along the path. Vaguely, I recall I was heading toward a beach, but I did not plan on staying at the beach. I think it was just on the way to my destination. But perhaps you were heading for the beach.

My strides were no match for your long ones, and soon I could hear you behind me.

As you began to pass me I looked up – just as you were looking down to see who you were passing. Instant recognition crossed your face, and then you were smiling, the smile slowly getting larger.

“Hi,” I said timidly, not knowing what else to say.

And your grin got larger, as you replied, “Hi. How have you been?”

And so we bantered back and forth as I blushed in your presence, and then you hinted at wanting to see me later that night. And that I knew where to find you.

Our arms brushed, and my heart skipped a beat, and you continued along down the path. You looked back once, your blue eyes crinkling with your perfect smile. And then you were gone and I had butterflies in my stomach when I realized that you wanted to see me, you wanted to be with me that night. I felt accepted.

Sporatic Musings

2009-07-29T07:40:00.000-07:00

It's good to be home.

I missed being the loner I am.

What I did not miss was the huge stack of papers I needed to file when I got back to work on Monday. Nor did I appreciate that no one even tried to file the stuff. They just decided I could do it when I got back. I've been working on the pile ever since I got it at around 9 in the morning on Monday. It's almost gone. All that I have left are copies of notes that do not make sense. Sigh.

I'm glad to be back though. I'm glad to have my birds, and I think it's a bit more comical now that they have their wings clipped. I went to Pet Smart yesterday after dropping off my CDs of pictures (let's not talk about the price I spent on them), and purchased a few ladders for them. The one ladder was almost long enough to reach to the ground from the cage, and I just added a smaller one to the end. So now when they decided to divebomb from their cage they have the opportunity to climb the ladder back up, instead of wander around and wish they could get back to their cage. Luvy figured it out all by himself this morning, and I'm quite proud of him!

I've started to catch up on the show Californication. Always an interesting ride.

And I've run out of things to say.

Back to fanfiction. *wanders off*

Musings on Batty People

2009-07-02T08:28:00.000-07:00

We all know how obsessed I can get with things I love.

I… love to obsess.

It keeps me sane (well, one could debate that I suppose), and I guess it’s a security blanket of sorts.

The things I tend to obsess about will never affect me like a real person could. Therefore, my obsessions can never hurt me – unlike a few choice people in my life.

But my obsessions only go so far.

I don’t believe in stalking people, and I don’t believe in going out of my way to find information on my favourite celebrities. If the information is to be had, I can find it on Google, or at a handful of message boards and websites.

Nor do I act like I’m the only person in the world who knows what they’re talking about when it comes to my obsessions. Unless someone is clearly stating a false fact (that I know to be false because I have researched the topic properly and know the exact correct fact), I will take everything a person says at face value. Because maybe I am wrong and they are right. There is always that issue.

Recently, a certain person, has finally removed her mask and has proven that she’s just as batty and extremely fanatical as I thought. And not only is she batty and fanatical, but she tried making jabs at me. She tried her damndest to make me out to be the bad guy in our little argument.

I’d love to quote some of the tweets she put up about “taking the higher road” and “being the mature one”, but upon inspection, she seems to have deleted all of said remarks. In fact, she’s deleted the entire fight. Gee, I wonder why. Perhaps because it really did make her seem like she was not the one taking the higher road?

I hate to break it to her, but I’m the one who refrained from showing precisely how much her insulting behaviour on Twitter affected me. I did not ban her from my board. I did not let her behaviour outside my message board affect my judgment of her membership to the board. So tell me, how does that reflect upon me?

I would like to think I was the one being fair. I like to think I’m the one who actually reads what people write, and do not interrupt conversations with my own topics. It’s unfair, it’s rude, and it’s downright annoying. But I certainly don’t do that. Thank goodness.

Not only did we have an out-and-out brawl on Twitter, but this woman truly is batty. She had a little spat with my wonderful friend, and it really got him wound up, and I don’t like seeing him in that state.

My Trip to Montréal

2009-06-02T08:42:00.001-07:00

I don’t often have as much fun as I did this past weekend.

I had planned a weekend trip to Montréal to officially get my season pass to La Ronde and to use that pass. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some rain ruin my fun.

I left work at 2:30, and headed back to my place where I quickly packed up my things, took a shower, and hit the road. I made a pit stop in St Albert to pick up some cheese for everyone I was going to be seeing, and headed back to Casselman and filled up the tank with gas (I’ve been living in Ottawa for a year and have yet to fill my car up IN Ottawa – I wonder how long I can continue this). I had a brief Chrysler moment when another Cirrus pulled up behind me at the gas station, and when I crossed the road to stop at McDonald’s to use the washroom and grab some fries I ended up parking next to a Dodge Stratus.

Good omens abound when you see more than one Cirrus/Stratus/Breese in a 1 kilometre radius.

Unfortunately the wait in the McDonald’s washroom was horrible. It took ten minutes for me to just be able to pee. I bought a medium fry after I was finished emptying my screaming bladder, and then I was finally on my way to Montréal.

The drive was completely uneventful, and in fact there was less traffic this time than there was when I drove up in March to see Great Big Sea. I made it to Chantal’s, where she came out and parked my car in her itty-bitty overgrown driveway. We then proceeded to get ready, and then headed out.

Chantal introduced me to a pub called Hurley’s. It’s an Irish pub downtown, where the majority of the people seemed to be English-speaking customers. The band playing that night was Salty Dog, a Celtic/Newfoundland folk rock band. Apparently Celtic rock brings out the Newfies, for there was a table full of ‘em! And not just any Newfies. Newfies in the army! *sighs*

I knew they were army guys, but y’know… I’m certainly not going to go over there and try and weasel my way into any conversations. Not to mention I was with Chantal. We had a big supper together (I had steak, she had chicken) and both had half-pints of black velvet. After the supper, we stuck to coke, and clapping along and singing to the music Salty Dog was playing. We knew it all, of course.

During the break between sets, two of the band members came over and hung out with us. Awesomesauce!

They eventually went to talk to a few more people, and during that time two of the army guys decided to play fight or something across the room and almost fall into our table. My radar was up. This was no accident – the two of them had done this on purpose! So I smiled at them and said, “Having fun, are ya?” and they immediately sat down at our table and the cuter one started flirting with me! Yay for army boys (no, scratch that… army MEN!) flirting with Kogo! He bought me a drink, we talked for a bit, but the guys eventually left, dragging him with them. And I didn’t even manage to give him my phone number. Oh, poo! But it was fun, nonetheless, and I felt great having flirted with a soldier. Haven’t done that in a few months!

We made it home after midnight, and were both falling asleep before one. I awoke at 7:30 and got dressed and packed my things and folded blankets neatly, and read for a bit until Chantal awoke at 8:00. She got ready to go and we skipped out the door to find ourselves a big hearty breakfast. After breakfast, we stopped and bought a postcard which I sent off to an X-Files friend in New Zealand.

She then dropped me off at the Metro station, and I made my way down to wait for James who showed up at exactly 10:00am. Which means the subway system in Montreal is freaking fantastic. We hopped on the Metro and made our way to La Ronde! Mind you, we also had to grab a bus for a short 3 minute bus ride that takes you straight to the front gates.

We were at La Ronde by ten-thirty. James bought his season pass while there, and we headed over to the gates in the pouring rain to wait with what seemed like hundreds of teenagers. I felt quite old, really, I did.

At eleven, the gates were rolled up, and James and I made our way to the line where we would set up our season pass cards. I got to skip the line as I already filled out my information online and all I needed was my picture to be taken.

While waiting for James I got to watch three baby starlings waiting for their mother to return to the nest with food. They were noisy little brats, but they were so adorable to watch. The wait finally over, we turn to the park before us and find that the rain has stopped, it’s warmed up, and the water is drying up quickly. Hurrah!

We hit the pavement, and the first ride we go on is the Toboggan Nordique, which is a baby rollercoaster. And it sucked. Horribly. I don’t think we’ll ever go on that ride again.

While waiting in line for the Orbite, James embarrassed the hell out of me. A sign basically said not to touch other people while on the ride. James turned to me and said, “Lynne, this means you can’t molest any gingers on this ride.”

Thanks, James.

Funny how you didn’t notice the ginger wigger standing in front of us, eh James? Because guess what? He certainly heard you say that! He immediately turned around and caught himself a glimpse of me. I didn’t mention to James that this guy was a ginger (hat covered his hair) until we were finally out of earshot. And then James thought it was great. And he had plans for the day. Find the ginger wigger again.

The ginger wigger is an almost ginger. He most certainly was a ginger for most of his adolescent life, no doubt. But as he grew older his hair grew darker until it became almost a shade of brown. But upon removing his white wigger hat, you will notice that it is indeed a deep red. And this white wigger hat? It’s placed crookedly upon his wigger head in the wigger fashion of 10 years ago. He is wearing white wigger shoes and oddly enough a white belt which most probably came from Moore’s. He is wearing wigger jeans, and they seem oddly new. And his wigger shirt seems to have a wigger vest over it. Interesting. The ginger wigger is very intrigued by me. Because apparently I like to molest gingers – or so my fellow “ride warrior” says. This intrigues him very much. He might have a chance to be molested!

We run into him in line yet again – on The Vampire. I see him first, and immediately spit out, “Ah fuck,” to which James says, “What?” and I clam up. Unfortunately, this display of disappointment and resentment was proof enough that the ginger wigger (or gigger for short) was nearby. James sees him, he finally sees us and James begins to jump up and down pointing at me. The ginger wigger eyes me once more. I feel a cold chill down my spine, as I realize he is probably undressing me with his wigger eyes. We end up getting on the ride the same time as gigger and his friends. I am three rows back and directly behind gigger. We ride the ride, we have fun, and finally get off. Upon getting off, James magically turns to the left instead of exiting the ride. As I get off, he yells, “Lynne, over here!” and as I turn back, the ginger wigger is directly behind me! We make eye contact and I know precisely that he knows I like gingers. I shudder, because while I do like gingers, I detest wiggers.

We both seem to walk across the park in the same general direction, but I finally am able to steer James in a different direction. And for some time we are safe from the gigger. Until later, after getting off the Monster. As we walk away from the coaster, James looks back at the line waiting to get on and sees him. I run away before the gigger can spot me (while James is shouting and pointing me out).

For the rest of the day the gigger blessedly keeps his distance from us. We hit up the Goliath (the best rollercoaster in the park) about four times. We went on the Vampire twice, the Cobra once (it huuurts), the Monstre twice, the Boomerang, and yes, even the teacups. The teacups sound like dying whales.

We went on le Pitoune and Le Splash. If you want to be soaked to the bone, I suggest getting on Le Splash. Not only do you get a Le Splash, but people can pay 2 bucks to fire waterguns at you.

We rode the coasters up until closing then got on the bus to take us back to the subway station. The lines inside were huge, so we decided to wait for a bit at a very interesting park. The park had these water fountains that would sporadically burst out, and during the warmer months I think it will be a lot of fun to run through them. But in late May, it is still a bit too cold. Didn’t stop us from having fun, however. There was trance/dance/techno music being played a bit away, and we figure this place would be great to have a party. We danced through the fountains, took some silly pictures, and then finally got on the subway and had the fun of stopping at Chantal’s to get my stuff and then heading to James’ place where Sarah was waiting for us. We had an extremely late supper, and then I passed out on their recliner. We awoke the next day, went to Tim Hortons for breakfast, and then we all piled onto the subway. Sarah left us to head downtown while James and I continued on to our favourite pastime – hitting the rollercoasters.

Ginger Wigger was nowhere to be found that day. However, we did see one ginger getting on the Goliath was epically excited. And when I say epically excited, I’m serious. He was front row on the Goliath, and when he sat down and got settled in, he turned to his friends with this huge smile on his face and clapped his hands excitedly. Now, he would have been a gorgeous ginger, except he had a faux-hawk. That sort of ruined his look. But otherwise… very beautiful for a ginger.

On Sunday we recorded the Goliath twice. Once from midway down the train, and once from the front. I plan on making a video of it. We also recorded the monstre, and also a few other things. Around four o’clock it began to rain. While a lot of the rides began to close down, we still made our way to the Vampire, and managed to get on. Going on the Vampire in the rain may have been a bit extreme, but it was still worth it. By the end of that, we bought some Goliath sweaters, and headed in the direction of Le Dragon, one of the most lame coasters in the park.

While Le Dragon still remains to be one of our least favourites, it still is an indoor coaster. That being the reason we were heading toward it, we tramped through puddles and finally got into the very short line for Le Dragon. There was a reason the line was so short, despite it being one of the few rides that got you out of the rain. While the sound was working, the lights weren’t! So James and I went through the very short ride inside in the pitch black, listening to creepy music. We have determined that this ride is much better when you don’t get to see then dragons and creepy eyes blinking at you. We went on Le Dragon twice before we decided to go get some food.

We stopped at Rolopan and bought food wrapped in crepes. I had blueberry and custard while James decided to try a cheeseburger crepe. Mine was delicious, but I also got to try some of his. The cheeseburger crepe is amazing! We have determined that Rolopan will be our food of choice when we go to La Ronde in the following few months. Why spend ridiculous amounts of money on poutines and burgers when you can spend that same ridiculous amount of money on something you can’t get anywhere else? If I’m going to be frivolous with my earnings, the least I can do is be frivolous with rare things.

After finishing our crepes, we headed onto the Goliath again, twice in a row! There were no lines at all, so why not take advantage of the situation? After getting our Goliath fix, we headed off to play a few games and win a few toys. I ended up winning a stuffed elephant, a tiger Taz, and a bunch of flowers. James won a Batman for Sarah, a pink whale, and a penguin.

We bought some cotton candy for Sarah and headed back to the subway station, where we once again stopped in the park. Only this time, James decided to be evil and risk the poor pink whale’s life. I can only describe what happened next in a series of photos.

Ooh, a fountain!

Tehehe! Die, whale, die!

He looks so lonely and helpless!

Little whale refuses to be blown away by the water.

I am whale, hear me roar!

Right before I ran in to save him:

This is what happens when you run through a fountain to save a little pink whale.

Poor little guy is now in my hands after James traded it for one of my many flowers. All of my newly acquired stuffed animals are sitting on my recliner in my living room. After we had fun in the fountains, and I was soaked down my side, we made it back to Chantal’s where we got my car and I drove James home. And the rest is a very uneventful car ride home, although I did find someone like me who understands what cruise-control is, and we ended up driving all the way to Ottawa one behind the other. I enjoy smart drivers!

I shall now leave you with two videos I have made from the footage James got.

Sealhunt Musings Galore

2009-05-26T11:09:00.000-07:00

You can help end Canada's annual war on seals by boycotting a product that is vital to the country's economy: maple syrup.
Canada produces approximately 85 percent of the world's maple syrup, with the U.S. as its largest consumer, and by buying this Canadian product, you are supporting Canadian cruelty. By pledging to boycott Canadian maple syrup, you'll be speaking up for baby seals in Canada, for whom life isn't so sweet, and telling Canada that you won't support its product until you can support its practices.

Does PETA honestly think that maple syrup, something that comes from trees and is harvested by regular entrepreneurs, will affect the sealhunt, something regulated by the Department of Fisheries and Oceans, a department of the federal government?

PETA seems to think that the US of A is not in an economic crisis, and that we rely only on the United States for our income. Would it not make more sense that if we lost economic gain in maple syrups sales, that we should just up the sales in furs from the seals?

I don't know... this... boycott seems mighty flawed and pointless.

One Small Blog

2009-05-26T06:32:00.001-07:00

You know what I can't stand?

People who are against abortion but for the death penalty.

Make up your minds.

Musings on Healthy Eating

2009-05-22T06:34:00.000-07:00

I have a diet Pepsi sitting in front of me. It’s the first bottle of pop I’ve had in over two weeks.

I’m trying to eat healthy, and I find it damn hard to do on the weekends I’m busy with friends – which seems to be almost every weekend. This past weekend I had second helpings of my mother’s chicken and potatoes. And then on Sunday we went to the Works for lunch/supper (only two meals that day) and I pigged out on a huge Sk8er Boy burger (it had peanut butter, jack cheese and bacon – and it was surprisingly good!) and sweet potato fries. On Monday we did another lunch/supper by going to Sushi Kan, an all-you-can-eat Sushi bar. Now, I don’t feel AS bad about Monday’s meal, since sushi is good for you and all… but I REALLY stuffed myself that day.

However, I have been doing better. The only junk food I have in my house right now is a small bag of Bits and Bites, and a bag of pretzels (which could be considered healthier than any other chips). I went to Farm Boys to get my groceries yesterday – and everything was healthy products except maybe the mock chicken. I bought a ready-made salad for today – it comes with a few small slices of cheese and ham and a hardboiled egg, and some ranch dressing.

It’s hard eating healthy in today’s society. For one, it seems like every other day my workplace is having some sort of party (going away, retirement, baby shower), and with a government party comes wine and food. Last week was bad as it was a baby shower – loads of cookies. Yesterday, however, was not so bad. They had chips, veggies, and various dips and things. I stuck to the veggies (mmmmCelery), but did have a few baked Lays.

But when I went to the theatre last night I ordered a small low-fat frozen yogurt (banana and strawberry) which was quite a lot of ice cream for only 110 calories AND it was healthy for me.

I find another reason it’s hard to eat healthy is socializing. When going out with friends, it’s to a theatre or for supper and it’s so easy to forget your goal to lose that 20 pounds and live a healthier lifestyle. If I become a recluse and stay at home I can stick to my meal plans.

I suppose I’m excited for the rollercoaster season. While I will be hitting up La Ronde quite a lot, it will help with my goal – I hope. I will be outside all day, possibly for a whole weekend each time. That would include walking, getting my adrenaline pumping, and quite a bit of exercise. Mind you, I will also be subjected to many a food stall selling things like poutines, nachos, and burgers. However, in an attempt to save money, I probably won’t be eating all that much. Plus I’ll be too busy standing in line for rollercoasters.

Another thing in my get-fit program. Walking. Yes. Walking. I love to walk, so it’s no hardship. But I need to walk MORE. And possibly get my bike. I tend to walk to Blockbuster and back – which is quite a long hike, even my mother said so. Last night I also did some sit-ups. OH MY! It’s not so hard on my stomach as it is on my back. I’ve got a back problem, so… yah… it’s not much of a problem, but I definitely was straining my back last night. Oh well. All in the name of being healthy, right?

I’m thankful that my new breakfast of choice is something I can enjoy. I used to eat two Eggo waffles for breakfast (strawberry flavour) each morning. Sometimes with maple syrup, sometimes without. It always depended, as strawberry waffles taste good without it. However, now I’ve started eating Special K Five Grain. It’s really good, very healthy for you, and a high source of fibre. It’s the taste I like, and the crunch. For the past week I was eating it with milk, however I’ve stopped putting milk in it as I’ve mentioned – I like the crunch.

I’m addicted to crunchy things. I love chips, the crunchier and crisper the better. And it’s hard to find a replacement for them. Pretzels are great and all, but nothing can compare to Sun Chips or Baked Lays. I also try things like rice crackers, and other low-calorie crackers and wafers. Nothing compares, but it’ll do for now.

Sigh.

I miss my junk food.

Life Musings

2009-05-14T07:43:00.000-07:00

Life can pass you by if you aren’t looking.

In less than two months I will be getting on a plane and heading to Newark, New Jersey where I shall roam the airport and wonder which seats Jason and Grant have sat in, where they have twittered and complained about the planes constantly being late, and where they may have gotten coffee.

It’s only a short pit stop before I gather my bags and sanity, and head onto a much larger plane, and stare out over a dark, black seascape over which we shall be travelling. Even still, that small stop in Newark is incredibly exciting for me. I will only be there for two hours, but for those two hours I get to spend there, I shall reflect over these days in May where I sat at my computer and avidly watched my two favourite docu-soap stars entertain their fans in a new and personal way.

It’s been very interesting watching them twitter, and I can assure you that it’s them, and not some pretend Jay and Grant. It really is them. They take photos of each other, complain about Continental airlines, and let us know what is happening on their investigations. We get to know intimate details of the investigation months before it will ever air on tv. It’s quite exciting really.

I’ve been a fan of the show Ghost Hunters since it first debuted in the United States, on the American channel SciFi. I used to watch that channel religiously when we were able to order it (before they went digital and we lost our feed). They had all the best shows – X-Files, Sliders, Star Trek, Outer Limits, Quantum Leap, Mad Mad House. Gosh, how I loved that channel.

My whole family took an hour off of their own schedules to sit and watch the premiere of Ghost Hunters. We had all been interested in the show after watching the commercials, but I was the only one who became a fan after watching the first episode. In the end, I spent every Wednesday evening sitting in front of the tv upstairs while everyone else was in the basement watching tv on the regular dish. But not me. No, I needed to get my Grant, and later Tango fix. I loved these guys. They were real people doing something real, and catching so much unexplained evidence on tape!

I eventually had to stop watching the show when our feed got cancelled and SciFi went strictly digital. Here in Canada, we are two seasons late, so even still if I went to watch the show, I’d be watching reruns. I tried watching Ghost Hunters International but it just isn’t as good as the original show. I want to see Jay and Grant – and yes, even Tango.

So while I don’t get to watch the show anymore (although soon I shall be ordering the seasons on DVD), I am now following my two favourite plumbers/ghost hunters on Twitter. And it’s been so much fun!

So there I will be, getting off a plane in Newark, NJ and staring at everything and wondering, “Which gates have they waited at for each of their late planes?” And I will wonder, “Will my plane be late?” and I will walk the floors, and look around me, and think to myself, “They’ve done this, too.” And I will be a sort of squeeing fangirl, as I consider all the other celebrities that have probably been through this airport as well.

I don’t know what I’m going to do to pass the time while I’m on my second flight. It’s going to be a long one, I have no doubt of this. And lucky for me, I’ll be bringing my laptop in my carry-on. Perhaps I’ll be able to write some of my latest story. Or perhaps I shall read a book, take a nap, plot world domination.

And to think I have less than two months to go before I hop the pond and touch down in Glasgow. I will set foot on Scottish soil. I will, in essence, be returning to the “home land”. I am half Scottish on my mother’s side, and I embrace this heritage. I go to the Highland Games in Maxville every year, I have a kilt that I wear on special occasions, and overall, I am just so addicted to the folklore and history.

I am taking my dream vacation at the age of 23. Can you believe it? Oh sure, there are dozens of other places I wish to visit – Australia, Ireland, Germany, British Columbia, Newfoundland – but Scotland is the place I wish to go. So what are the odds that I personally know someone who lives there? Not only do I know someone who lives there, but I’ve worked with her, I know her from real life! And we have heaps in common.

To say I’m excited for this vacation is an understatement. But, you know, the thing is… time is passing by very quickly. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve booked this year full of exciting plans, I bet the next two months would crawl by. But as it is, I’m excitedly awaiting the last weekend of May, because I will be heading off to Montreal to spend a weekend riding the rollercoasters, and getting an adrenaline buzz. And it won’t be the only weekend I do it. I have myself a season’s pass to La Ronde. So for every weekend I am free, I will be dragging my arse up to Montreal and letting the wind blow through my hair.

And that’s just one of the many things I plan on doing!

This year is so full of fun things, exciting things, once-in-a-lifetime things. It’s only May and I’ve already met George Takei, had a pick thrown to me by Bob Hallett, seen dozens butterflies fluttering around me, received well over two dozen postcards, and made loose plans to take more small and large trips for this coming year.

If you don’t make your life exciting, who will?

Musings on People Who Complain

2009-02-17T10:58:00.001-08:00

I can’t stand people being bitter. It’s like they want us to share in their misery, and I don’t find that very fair at all.

I’m the type of person that keeps the pain and hurt locked up inside. True enough, my blogs show a lot of venting (heartache being a key subject), but overall, I rarely whine and bitch and cry. That’s what I have my one blog for. To be able to complain, to cry, to take it all back, to wish away the hours on a thing that will never be. That way, I am able to release the pent up emotions that sometimes boil over.

But it’s to have those friends that only come to you when they aren’t happy. They come to you, and complain. About this, about that, about how unfair life is. Life is only as unfair as you make it out to be. If you choose to whine about your life instead of trying to fix it, of course it’s going to suck.

Stop wallowing in your self-pity and go out there and do something! You are stuck in Cornwall only because you choose to be stuck. Don’t give me excuses about car payments, and that the only way you can afford to live in Ottawa is if you are getting paid 25 bucks an hour. Wtf? Even I don’t get paid that much money, and I work for the goddamned government! If that’s how you see it, then you’re never going to get out of Cornwall, because you’ve set your bar much too high. And I think the only reason you’ve truly set it so high is because you’re afraid to leave that town. It’s quicksand, and it’s already got a firm grip on your ankles, and you feel as if it would be too much effort to pull yourself out. So you gripe and complain that you’re still stuck in Cornwall, but it all comes down to the same thing: Only you are stopping yourself from leaving.

Complaining about not having a relationship is a complete waste of a) my time and b) your breath. Why? Because guess what. I’m single too. I don’t give a damn if you’re older than me and still single. Perhaps it is your negative personality that scares men away. Or perhaps you believe that only men can approach women when interested in a relationship. Go out there, be active, and try to find something. That is exactly what I am doing. If someone as young as me can actively search for someone to date, why can’t someone with more years experience do that as well?

You have to be able to cope with the world, and if you can’t then you’re fucked. Stop living in the past. It’s nice to have a few pieces of the past to stick to (chivalry is indeed a nice thing to see on occasion – like when a man opens the door for me, or pays for my meal), but I certainly don’t want to see the past all the time. I agree, having to make the first move sucks ass. But I’m not puling and whining. I’m toughing up and making first moves, goddamnit. Why? Because I have to. There’s no other way to get anywhere in this society unless you go out, grab the bull by the horns (or the balls) and actually make an effort.

And I realize the redundancy of this post. After all, I’m complaining about complaining. Kind of makes no sense, right? Perhaps I’m just so sick of being the one you all come to with your problems… and then never expect to hear about mine. Well, you can certainly expect that, because only a FEW people will ever hear about my problems, and that’s because I know they’re actually there for me!

Agh!

This rant is bothering the hell out of me.

Whack fall the day!

Valentine's Day Musings

2009-02-13T07:13:00.000-08:00

I am sick and tired of people complaining about Valentine’s Day. Jesus Christ. Suck it up, you whiny little emo kids. Seriously.

What the hell is wrong with picking a day to show the person you love that “By the way, in case you forgot… I love you.”?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. Nothing!

Oh, but it’s not fair to the single people.

Whine whine whine. Sob sob sob. Sniffle sniffle sniffle. I’m single, poor me.

Okay, yes. I agree, it’s much too over-marketed, and that it’s mainly about spending tons of money on the one you love. But to me, that’s not what it’s supposed to be about. It’s supposed to be about love, and showing the person that you care. Whether you cook them a nice meal or buy them a diamond ring, it’s all the same. It’s doing something out of the ordinary to say, “Hey, you’re very special to me… and I don’t ever want that to change.”

And here the single people are getting their panties in a bunch because they can’t share in those feelings. And so they feel the day is more about singling out the people without a loved one. I think it’s a very childish attitude. You know the attitude. “Well, if I can’t have fun, then I won’t let anyone else have fun.”

And the damndest thing is they’ll deny, deny, deny that this has anything to do with the true meaning of Valentine’s Day, but that it has everything to do with the propaganda and the spending of money. And I swear, I’ve seen those same people turn around and become all lovey-dovey and spend money on their loved one the next time this fateful day comes rolling around and they’re finally in a relationship.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

Jesus.

I can’t stand it anymore!

I am single. I’ve got no one for Valentine’s Day. Do you see me whining and complaining that it’s such a horrible and over-rated day? NO! I’m standing up for it, for chrissakes! Why? Because when I am in a relationship I enjoy celebrating it with a nice home cooked meal, perhaps a single rose, a nice movie, curled up on the couch in my lover’s arms.

Sound so bad?

Sounds pretty damn romantic to me.

And even if I’ve got no one to do that with, I at least have faith that one day in the future I will!

So stop your belly-aching. Please.

The Story of Jade Morrison

2009-02-12T07:44:00.000-08:00

I don't normally do this; post a story on a blog.
Nor do I post one that I'm in the middle of writing. But I feel this is a necessity. I've run out of things to rant on, to be quite honest with you. I'm sure I can post about not having anything to rant, but after that rant... I'm screwed.
But I feel this could be a good learning tool for others. I also feel that some could enjoy this story.

This story is a fan fiction about the actor Max Martini. It is also a fictional tale of a character I made up - that I in no way resemble. I do not have red hair and blue eyes. I can't sing for the life of me, and I don't ride horses. However, being that I've read enough books on horses, and know a lot about musicians and how some of them tick, I feel I know enough about the professions to get away with writing about them. This is solely fiction. I do not wish to have some sort of relationship with Max, nor do I ever think I will even meet him. All I have done is taken his name and his good looks and slapped them onto a character I wanted to make.

Now that I've put up my disclaimer, please enjoy the following bits and pieces of story I am writing.

*****

Jade sat upon the stage, acoustic guitar on her lap, and looked out at the poor excuse for a crowd. She honestly had no idea how she got roped into doing this gig. It had been more than three years since she had sat down in front of an audience (and at that time, the audience had been a huge, thriving mass of people crying out for the music), and she felt she had made a huge success in getting the public to forget she ever existed – in all of her endeavours.

But here she was, sitting on a small stage in the back of a pub, guitar in hand, a few other band members gearing up for the gig, and not a single soul paying attention to the fact that there was going to be music. Jade didn’t really mind, though. She’d prefer it that way. As she began to strum her guitar, a few more lost souls stumbled into the pub and headed for the bar.

Leaning forward toward the mike, she began to sing, “I tried to discover a little something to make me sweeter…”

Her eyes wandered back over to the bar where the three newcomers huddled, and prepared to take their shots.

“But baby refrain from breakin’ my heart,” she crooned, and the three men threw back their heads, downed the tequila, and quickly went for their lemon slices.

“I’m so in love with you, I’ll be forever blue…” As the oldest of the three men ordered probably what would be a large amount of beer, the younger men turned away from the bar, and wandered closer to the stage to find an empty table suitable for their small party.

One of the two young men caught Jade’s eye, and as she continued to sing the cover, she kept glancing back over at him. Perhaps it was the red hair (like attracts like, right?), or the stubborn stubble on his chin. Or perhaps it was –

The man looked up at her, and blue gazes crashed against each other as their eyes locked. Oh, but he was beautiful. Also, so familiar.

He grinned up at her, and she smiled back as she finished up the song. Averting her gaze from the man, she turned to her band, “What do you guys want to play next?”

“Why don’t you sing Just A Dream,” Henry said. “Well, only if you’re comfortable singing it.”

She gazed at her band mate, his bass guitar in hand, looking back at her with a small smile on his face. They were all nodding their heads in agreement. Why these fools loved her cover of this song, she didn’t know. Obviously she put a bit more feeling into it than Carrie Underwood ever could, but why this song?

She shrugged, “If that’s what you guys want…”

She turned back to the mike, but before she could begin to sing her eyes fell on the redhead again. The older man, who she definitely recognized sat down with the other fellows and began to pour a beer for each of them. The redhead turned back to the table, and all three of them began to talk animatedly.

So she began to sing, “It was two weeks after the day she turned eighteen…”

The song was about a girl whose true love, her fiancé, had gone off to war… and he did not come home. For Jade, it was something she could relate to. For she herself was a widow, and her husband had died when his fighter jet crashed in the middle east three years ago. It had been three years since she had received the letter telling her he had died, and she was only finally able to begin moving on.

After finishing the song, tears stood in her eyes, but she managed to smile thinly at her band mates. They moved into another song, and then another. Jade was very much aware that the trio sitting closest the stage were actually paying attention to her, and she could feel a blush burning her cheeks. They took a break after six songs, and Jade jumped down from the small stage and headed to the bar.

As she stood at the bar and ordered a cold one, from the corner of her eye she caught the redhead standing up and heading over. Taking a sip of the beer, she turned away from the guy, even as he came up.

“Excuse me?” he asked, and she had no other option but to turn and look at him. No matter how easily he took her breath away. His piercing blue eyes stood out even more because of the dark blue sweater he had on, and his stubble gave him a very rugged look that spoke volumes to Jade. Vivid images of running her nails down his back caused her to choke on her beer. A few moments passed before she was able to speak, “Yes?” she asked, her voice a bit hoarse.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said, but Jade waved at him to continue.

“I just… I don’t know. You seem so familiar.” He said, as he scrutinized her gold-red hair, pale blue eyes, and pale complexion. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners,” he said, coming back to his senses. “I’m Max Martini.”

Jade caught herself before she choked on her beer again. Now she knew who he was! “Max Martini!” she exclaimed, and almost slapped her forehead.

Max chuckled, “Yes, we’ve determined that. But I’m still trying to figure out who you are. What’s your name?”

Jade opted for only her first name, “Jade,” she said simply. Then began to make up an excuse, “I know, I know… my eyes aren’t green. But my parents simply adored the name…”

But Max wasn’t listening. “Jade… Jade…” he looked up, “I know! Jade Morrison, right?”

He knew who she was! “Not quite,” she said quietly, “It’s Jade MacCauley now...”

Max looked a bit crestfallen, “You’re married?”

Jade chuckled quietly, “Again, not quite. I’m a widow.”

Max was quiet for some time, “I’m sorry to hear this.”

“It’s been three years, so I’ve gotten over most of the pain, Max,” she said. For some reason, she wanted him to like her. Again, images of her fingers running down his back – this time it caused her to shiver. “How do you know who I am?” she asked, changing the subject.

Max grinned, “I followed your career when you were in racing. Sure, I listened to some of your music, but it was the horses that I was interested in. I always wondered what happened to you. It was like you had fallen off the face of the earth. What DID happen to you?”

Jade wondered how much she should tell him, “My husband didn’t like the publicity and the lack of privacy. So I stopped racing and singing.”

Max sighed, “What a shame. You have a beautiful voice and your talent on horseback is one of a kind.”

Jade could feel herself blushing. To hear such words of praise from such a man as this. Why, it almost made one want to get back up in the saddle again.

The band was beginning to set up again, so Jade threw back her beer, smiled at Max, and edged away from the bar. No such luck. The man was following her. “I have to get back, Max.” she said.

“That’s okay. Once you’re done, you should come sit with us for a bit.” He said, as he followed her back to the stage.

She grinned down at him from her spot on the stage, “I’ll think about it, Max.”

Max grinned up at her, and made her mind slide back into the gutter. “I look forward to talking with you, Jade.”

She smiled down at him, and sat down. Picking up her guitar, she tried not to let her band mates know just how flustered this man was making her.

SealHunt Musings

2009-01-20T07:46:00.000-08:00

***WARNING: SOME MAY BE OFFENDED***

It is that time of year again when there is an uproar about the killing of the overpopulated Harp seals living off the coast of Newfoundland. It's quite amazing how some people will look at pictures of a dead animal, and without learning the facts of the hunt (not the slaughter) create such an uninformed cry to put an end to it. Shamefully, I was one of those ignorant people who would take one look at a picture of a dead baby Harp seal, and cried out that this was an injustice. But I was made aware by more informed people about what is going on.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm about as big a treehugger as any other. Don't ever get me started on why whales should not be hunted.

The killing of baby Harps in Newfoundland, and ALL of Canada is ILLEGAL. The humane killing of adult Harp seals IS legal.
There are 517,900 people living in Newfoundland, and 4,700,000 Harp seals frequent the Newfoundland coastal waters, consuming 88,000 pounds of cod, which isn't even their preferred fish.

The killing of baby seals is just as illegal as the killing of whales in Canadian waters, and I am against BABY seals being killed, but the seal hunt must continue. There are too many seals, and if we do not control their numbers the whole ecosystem will be ruined, as the idiot government fools allowed other countries to fish our waters, depleting the numbers of fish. It is much like hunting deer in the Northern States, and in Canada. It is a necessity, because, as humans, we have already ruined their habitat, and to let them overpopulate what is left, will ruin it.

If we do not kill these animals (with all parts used, no doubt. From what I hear, you aren't a Newfoundlander, unless you've eaten a seal flipper pie ;)) they will overpopulate the waters, eating all of the fish, and starve themselves to death.

For the record, I have seen two adolescent Harp seals up close, and personal, in a tank on a little island off the Quebec coast, Les Iles de la Madeleine. They are a bit... scary looking, to say the least. And from what I was told (in French, mind you) these creatures, when fully grown are actually quite dangerous. I, as a tourist, bought a necklace with a seal claw (hell yes, they have claws, what did you think they were, fish?) on it, and trust me when I say it's quite sharp. Did you know that female Harp seals do not lose their white fur until the age of twelve? It’s the age of seven for males. They only live 35 years, so I’m pretty sure it is safe to say that a 12 year old seal is not a pup.

No matter what I say, even if I start complaining about how we depleted the whale populations to a mere percent of what is used to be, therefore leaving the Harp seal with no truly visible enemy (transient orcas) other than ourselves, I can not even remotely begin to explain things the way a true Newfoundlander might be able to.

So instead, I shall get off my soap box, and give to you the words of a man who grew up with the seal hunt, unlike the rest of us. This was written in 2006 during the season the seal hunt took place, and Paul McCartney and his wife helped PETA, and the American SPCA to try and put a stop to the hunt of an overpopulated species.

***

March 2, 2006
Tour Diary St. John's, NL
Home

Paul McCartney was in St. John's yesterday. Cool, eh? I bet he was in town to check out the cool musical historical connections between this worldly sea port and his own home town of Liverpool in England. Or maybe he was here to show support for struggling coastal communities near flattened by the globalization of the fishing industry.

No. Paul and his wife, Ms. Mills-McCartney were just stopping over on their way to PEI from where they will fly over the ice in search of an opportunity to hug a cute baby seal and mug for photographers. Much ado has been made in the media today about the arguments for and against the seal hunt. Many marine biologists and educated members of the fishing industry have duked, and will continue to duke, it out with members of environmental and animal rights groups that range from practical and sensible to fanatical and downright criminal. These people are much more qualified for the finer points of these debates than I, and I suspect most of us.

My opinion, I suspect, is shared by many. I think killing seals is cruel and ugly work. I think killing rabbits, moose, cows, chickens, and anything else with a pulse, is cruel and ugly work. I have never done it.

I, like many, accept that there are circumstances on Planet Earth where choosing to be a vegetarian is not an option. If you live, or certainly if you lived a few decades ago, in a coastal community in Newfoundland and Labrador, during the winter months, you'd have hard time finding an avocado salad.

I, like most, also accept that in this day and age animals are hunted and farmed for food, clothes, medicine, and a variety of commercial reasons. I, like most, expect that these industries be closely regulated and scrutinized and act in a humane and environmentally responsible fashion. Simply put, I don't want animals to suffer inhumane lives or deaths, and I don't want commercial hunting or fishing to result in the endangerment or extinction of a species.

From what I understand from respected individuals in the beef industry, the vast majority of cattle farmers act in a humane and responsible fashion and no one dares suggest anything else. Oprah was almost crucified in the US for questioning the American beef industry.

From what I understand from respected individuals in the sealing industry, the vast majority of sealers act in a humane and responsible fashion. Yet Paul McCartney is not one bit shy about throwing his considerable weight behind a campaign to have the Prime Minister put an end to the seal hunt. Moreover, he seems perfectly willing to pose for a propaganda photo with a baby seal on behalf of the Humane society of the United States no doubt aiding the organizations fundraising efforts for a long time.

Now I've got nothing against the Humane Society and I don't wish to make the lives of the inhumane easier by casting doubts towards on the Humane Society's efforts. But this photo-op will be misleading to the public and unfair to the humane and responsible sealers in small struggling communities everywhere as there has not been a cute and cuddly baby seal hunt in a long long time. Older harp seals are what the sealers are after but I'll bet these much uglier dudes won't make the final photo.

But Paul is a smart, worldly man who is well versed in Newfoundland and Labrador history and economics, right? I am sure Mr. McCartney has considered all the above before he agreed to this photo opportunity today, right? If so, lets call this what it is. Mr. McCartney has thought it through and chosen seals over sealers, regardless of whether these sealers are humane and responsible. He is voting for fundraising for the Humane Society over the continued existence of Coastal Communities of Newfoundland and Labrador.

Well, Mr. and Ms. McCartney, enjoy your trip to Atlantic Canada. If your efforts today are really successful, there may be a few less towns to see next time you stop by.

Cheers
Alan Doyle
Great Big Sea

What else am I supposed to say? I know at least one friend will not support my view at all and that is fine. Her idea is to stop the slaughter of all animals, and I have a different view. Sure, we’re sort of on the same page. We both want to help save the animals… but I have chosen a road less traveled when believing in animal rights. I choose to only help those in dire need. Those who are in peril of becoming extinct.

I am not a vegetarian. I am of the belief that we, as omnivores, need to eat meat. Our incisors are proof that we were made to eat meat. Those teeth are made for ripping into flesh, not fauna. Bears are omnivores. They eat vegetables and meat. I don’t see them becoming vegetarians.

I understand the morals that go into becoming a vegetarian. Honestly, I do. I don’t agree with them, but I understand them, and respect them.

However, I do not appreciate vegetarians pulling a “Catholic” move. Yes, I said it. A Catholic move. “My religion is right, and yours is wrong so you’re going to hell. I understand not all Catholics feel this way, but most (especially the leaders of this religion) do. But that is neither here nor there. What I’m trying to get at is that some vegetarians will start “spreading the word” about veganism and why it is “wrong” to eat meat. I don’t appreciate it, just like I don’t appreciate being told I’m going to hell, or that my opinion doesn’t matter because I’m just a little girl.

And the thing that gets me the most about the arguments on the seal hunt is that these people are claiming that we’re doing it only for the fur! I agree that it’s a major reason as to why the seal hunt goes on, but it is not the only reason! Think of these: overpopulation, meat, under-population of fish stocks, fishermen who have no other option for income.

And trying to make the seal hunt illegal because of those poor white-coats? Sigh… poaching will continue whether the adults are legal to kill or not.

Don't get me wrong, please. I generally hate humans. We killed whales for nothing but the oil, and fat, and left the rest of the carcass to rot in the sand. We killed whales so that one species that was bountiful, and swam in the oceans in great numbers has been reduced to a measly 400 Northern Right Whales.

I ask you, why use your energy to help save a species that has over four million numbers alone? Why not try and make a difference with a species that's actually on the brink of extinction?

Musings about Smiling

2009-01-19T12:21:00.001-08:00

Smiling.

Such an easy thing to do, and so many people don’t even think about it, or the meaning that is put into it.

Would it be surprising to say that the job I probably enjoyed the most throughout my short yet job-filled life was the one in which I smiled at people the most? I spent 8 hours of my day leaning out of a window, passing out coffee, soup, donuts, and smiles. And for every smile I passed out, I would get a smile in return. And you know, despite that I started those smiles at six in the morning on most days, I never felt more at home in a job then when I was making others smile, and brightening their day a tiny bit. I was, after all, handing to them, through a car window, the sustenance that woke them up each morning.

And the reason I was really in no mood to leave that job? I was enjoying myself. For the most part, I loved my coworkers. I still go back to visit some of them every few months when I’m in town. And most of the customers rocked. Sure there were your average pervs, assholes, and grumpy jerktrouts, but all in all, I got a smile out of each and every person when I smiled and said good morning.

A few months ago I had to drag my butt down to a shipping company to pick up a package from “ThinkGeek”, and once there had to deal with the front desk clerk. Certainly not a problem. Of course, the entire time I talked to him, I was smiling. As I was leaving the building, he told me to never lose my smile. Well, I promptly went home, and bawled my eyes out because of an entirely different reason, but we all have our moments when we feel like we have nothing to live for. Thankfully, those are few and far between for me. I can always find a reason to smile.

People need to smile more. There is not enough smiling in this day and age. Everyone complains about this, and that, and their mother-in-law. If people spent half the time they took to complain, and used that time to think happier thoughts, we’d all be a little less cranky in the morning, and we would be less likely to quip rude remarks at each other.

It’s one thing to use sarcasm. It’s another to roll your eyes at someone, and flip them the bird.

Why can’t we all just stop and be thankful for being alive, for being able to do the things we do, for being a unique individual? If we stopped taking everything for granted, we’d all realize that each and every one of us has a reason to smile.

I don’t care if your heart is breaking. And I don’t care if you’ve lost all your money. And I really don’t care if you’ve lost your job, you can’t go see the concert you want to see, your best friend moved away, you’ve broken your TV, the bus drivers are on strike, or you’ve spent all your money gambling.

Stop it.

Just… stop.

Stop. Pause. Stand still. Look around. Breathe. Blink. Touch. Feel.

Stop.

Forget everything that is bringing you down. You are, to a point, in control of what you feel. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop being angry at the world. Stop blaming yourself, others, the world on your misfortune. That’s the thing, really. You’re too busy putting blame on people for why you aren’t happy. I blame you. I blame me. I blame that thing called God. I blame you for not looking at the good things in life. I blame me for not trying to make you see the good things in life. I blame God for creating you in a fashion that it makes it so damn hard for you to see the good things in life.

But you know what? I also blame no one.

It is up to you to take those steps to being happy. Stop drowning in your sorrow. I know how it feels. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I hated it, and never want to be in that situation again. However, I know I will be. We all have to make brave first steps, and sometimes going out on a limb will cause us to fall back down to the ground. And it hurts. But once we’ve known that we can hurt, and feel better afterward, it makes the healing process a little bit easier.

I know this pain will soon end. So instead of wallowing in it, think of the better things in life. How does that song go?

“I’ve got a smile on my face, and I’ve got four walls around me.”

Not a day goes by that I don’t step out into the Ottawa air, look around me, and be thankful that I am where I am now. I would not change a thing. In time, I know I shall move on. But for now, I am just thankful I am alive, and that nature is alive all around me.

Once you are able to be thankful for the things that really matter in life, it is then that you will learn just how important smiling is.

And that with a smile you can change a world – even if it is just your world.

Musings of Anon.

2009-01-16T12:39:00.001-08:00

It’s amazing, don’t you think?

To be incapable of thinking of someone without feeling bothered, without seeing red, without wanting to rip your hair out, and let loose a cry of despair.

Isn’t it?

Just the thought of that one person ruins your whole day. You were going along fine, and then something reminds you of them, and suddenly you can’t think straight, and you wish you had never made the mistake of even talking to them, let alone letting them into your life completely.

How can one person cause such grief in your life when they aren’t even there? It’s not fair. It simply… is not… fair.

But then one day… one day in the future… you move on.

How is it that up until November 1st, thinking about you hurt? And how is it, from November 1st until about the middle of December the thought of you produced nothing but detached thoughts? And now. Now I can think about you, smile, and remember all of the good times, without feeling sorrow?

Why is it that the thought of you is having the opposite effect on me?

Curse you and everything you stand for.

But I sit here, and I ponder. How is it that the only way I can move on from hating you is to learn to ‘love’ someone else? And when that ‘love’ ends, when I finally look back on you, I can look back with fond memories, and a small smile upon my face? Is this the only way I will ever be able to heal from such instances?

And isn’t that such a shame?

That it took almost half a year to finally get over what you did. Because there were so many good memories that I wasn’t allowing myself to think about, because when I thought about you my breathing grew rapid and shallow, and I couldn’t think straight.

Finally, I am able to think straight – and my God, I’m starting to realize that I learned so much about myself when I was with you.

Perhaps the line, “Better as a memory than as your man” rings true in this situation, but my God… the memory that you are. I will never forget you, and what you stand for. You made almost three whole months of my life crazy exciting.

Thank you.

Troll Musing

2009-01-09T13:49:00.001-08:00

I understand trolls – to a certain extent. In fact, I’ll be the first to admit I’ve trolled a few boards in my time. I can understand how trolls tick. Most of them are just assholes. They come in, they troll a board (generally with porn), get banned, laugh mischievously because they have a floating IP, log off, log back on, and reregister to troll again. Trolls like this can be the downfall of message boards. I know. I’ve seen it happen. And this is where counter-trolls come in.

Have you ever been part of forum wars? Real forum wars? Where Bob pisses off Larry on message board A, but Larry knows Bob owns his own message board, and so he and a couple of buddies traipse on over there to troll the place up. Larry quickly bans the trolls, gathers his own elite army of counter-trolls, and goes back to board A to troll that board. It could go on forever or end in a matter of minutes.

Larry and Bob eventually make up. And then, since they’re on some sort of trolling spree, they decide to pick a random board off the internet (would a boy band message board suffice? Of course!) and off they go with their two groups of trolls and just flood the board with horrid messages.

Yes.

These things do happen. I know. From first hand experience.

Now, I’m happy to say I’ve moved on from this childish behaviour. In fact, when I was doing this, I was only 18 years old. Did I really know better? Probably. But in my own defence, I was in Larry’s group. We were initially counter-trolling. I know, no excuse. But what can you do?

I say if you’re going to be a troll, you should do it uniquely. My trolling techniques were never… how do you say this? Normal… I would rarely post porn. No, not porn. Porn is so… boring, so mundane, so average.

The first time I trolled, I was silly enough. I posted random lyrics from one of my favourite bands (that is virtually unknown). I flooded the board well enough. Got a post in each forum on the board. I was banned within ten minutes. Rejoined, using the same IP, and started over again. Banned again. This time they banned my IP. Smart people.

The second time I went trolling, I had a little more fun. I had access to Kirk/Spock slash graphic manipulations, and I used them all over a board where a few members had wreaked havoc upon the board I frequented. No staff were around to stop me, and I managed to put up a fair amount of disturbing photos of Kirk and Spock making out behind trees, and Spock with his shirt off, and Kirk staring longingly at the Vulcan.

The world is a messed up place.

I do not condone trolling. In fact, I am highly against it. See? People can change! I was never a bad person. My trolling was done light-heartedly, which would explain why the topics of my trolling were not very offensive at all. Well, except to the homophobic. Or the people who detest Star Trek.

And quite honestly, the second time I trolled – they never banned me! They deleted everything we had posted, and I was back the next day able to post more! But I didn’t. Once was enough.

Okay, so I ran with the wrong crowd once upon a time. I don’t anymore. I don’t approve of trolling, I am 100% against it. It’s rude, it’s annoying, and it should not be allowed. But we’ll never stop it. And sometimes there is a reason behind it, while other times it just comes out of nowhere.

People. Stop trolling. Enough is enough.

Let’s all be adults.

Promotional Musings

2009-01-07T06:59:00.000-08:00

Okay, enough with the musings already.

Please, don’t shoot me for saying that!

I love to muse, but sometimes I need to read other people’s musings, or perhaps I just need to laugh my arse off. Or perhaps I want to interact with other people. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that!

But I want to share these things with you, Constant Reader!

Customers Suck
This is by far my favourite board to lurk. It is the only message board that I go to weekly to read posts to ease my own pain, make me scowl at sucky people, and in general entertain me. I rarely post, and when I do it is generally a long-winded rant about some fool who called in when I was working at a call centre for a large phone and internet provider.

I don’t normally lurk at a board. I’m either posting or I’m not there at all. But this board is special. I no longer work in public service. I no longer have customers. So the only thing I can really complain about would be coworkers, and that’s really not what this message board (and website) is for. So I spend a lot of time reading other people’s horror stories, especially those of Gravekeeper. Gravekeeper, is by far, the best poster on this message board. I laugh, I cry, I cringe. His posts are always epic, and I can relate to many of them as he works in a call centre. And did I mention that Gravekeeper is Canadian? It only makes sense that his posts would be as epic as they are.

I strongly suggest you take a moment to go check out this message board. Almost everyone can related to the posts found there.

FailBlog
Who doesn’t want a great big helping of Fail?

I’ll admit that some of these pictures and videos are distasteful, but some of this stuff leaves me falling off my chair laughing. I’m not kidding! If you want to see a fail of any sort, go to this site. People walking into poles, bad translations, spelling fails. It seriously is hilarious – but only if you like seeing people embarrass themselves.

Renegades of the FBI
This is now my home away from home. It used to be another message board, but I no longer feel comfortable there. I like posting here. It is a message board dedicated to the X-Files, and shows and topics related to it. Since my favourite show is the X-Files (as if you didn’t know that) is it any surprise that I enjoy posting here?

Not only is the topic great, but the members are awesome, and remind me of an old message board I used to frequent way back in the day (2004). Everyone is friendly and helpful, and I don’t feel like I’m going to be attacked just because I don’t agree with everything they think. In fact, it kind of feels like family.

Doggett House
I hate to promote my own message boards, but I feel I must. I love going here. After the big mishap at the ‘other board’, this is one of my places to go. However, I realize that the board dies any time our beloved Luvy is not online. He truly keeps my message board alive, because everyone clamours to talk with this well-loved Duchovny and Patrick fan.

Other websites that I frequent are as follows:

Facebook
Interpals
LiveJournal
Neopets
Club Penguin
The Well of Creativity (some more shameless self-promotion)
The Robert Patrick Forum

And here ends my one and only Promotional Blog.

Whack fall the day!

Paranormal Musings

2009-01-05T10:50:00.000-08:00

“Let’s just say I want to believe.”

I want to dwell on a subject that has plagued modern civilization for decades now. The Paranormal.

Is it so surprising that someone who is so obsessed with a show like the X-Files wishes to discuss this topic? Probably not.

Ghosts. Psychics. Aliens.

With technology progressing faster than the blink of an eye, is it so amazing that people are beginning to document paranormal events with useful equipment? And yet, while technological advances make it easier to document such things, it also has shown how easily we can fake such evidence. It makes everything people have discovered redundant. We’re back where we started off – seeing is believing. The best proof is hands on proof. Correct?

Isn’t that such a shame? That we can prove something exists to the point of actual physical proof, visual and audio, only to be had by our own brilliant inventions? Does it not make you want to cry when you have right in front of you a video of a ghost forming and disappearing, only to find out we have the technology to fake such a thing?

Even by talking about it, people still won’t believe. You’d have to see the video for yourself.

No? Not enough? You’d rather be in the room to witness it yourself? Because even if you will agree that this is raw footage, you could still claim that it was someone running up and then fleeing, even if everyone present in the penitentiary were accounted for. You still wouldn’t believe. Not even if they couldn’t debunk this by giving an idiot a black blanket, and asking him to run back and forth in front of the camera.

Why is it we only learn to believe when we are accosted by the things we dare not believe in?

I’m certainly not one to talk. When it comes to ghosts I believe. I really do, even though I’ve never honestly seen one (although there have been a few instances where I think I might have seen one). But when it comes to things like psychics I’m a denying pessimist. No way, no how. No such thing has psychics. I won’t have it. It’s just a bunch of hogwash, and anyone who believes in them is crazy.

Or are they?

I began to have doubts about my strong belief that psychics were fake, when I viewed a thermal recording made by the Ghost Hunters. The thermal imaging is located at roughly 1:48 in to the video. This is a collection of the ten best moments in Ghost Hunters history (and I thoroughly agree with whoever chose them).

I know, I know. It’s just a bunch of fancy lights and hoo-haw. But to those of us who understand thermal imaging, it means a heck of a lot more than fancy lights and pretty things. Those bright colours signify heat, and in this instance we can not explain what is going on. Some may speculate that what Grant caught on thermal is psychic energy.

But I was still a nonbeliever. Oh sure, I admitted that there was a possibility that some people were indeed psychic, but I still believed that 99% of psychics were frauds. And then I went to one.

My friend had been oohing and ahhing over this woman she had gone to. Apparently the lady had done her life reading and her yearly reading, and had gotten things dead-on. And now my friend was clamouring for others to come visit the psychic to get their readings done, and she would accompany her friends.

So we made an appointment, and planned a day of fun around my lifetime reading. My friend came over during the day, and we headed downstairs to the ‘toy-room’ which now houses mainly books, records, and extra pieces of furniture. Come to think of it, now that I’ve moved out, that room is pretty darn empty save for a tv stand and my record player (as well as a broken electric organ). We were sitting around down there, and looking through all of my books. I have a huge collection of books, and the biggest part of the collection is my Stephen King books. I own all of his novels, and quite a few other books as well. So I lectured her on my favourite author. Haha. I’m sure she got bored, but she sure as hell was paying some attention.

How do I know she was paying attention? Because she freaked out when the psychic told me my lifetime reading. A lifetime reading consists of the basics. She tells you about your past, present, and future, but keeps it broad enough to make it last a lifetime. A yearly reading deals with the coming year, and only the coming year and goes into much more detail. This psychic focuses on many things, including relationships and sex, careers, health, travelling, and whatnot. The only thing she doesn’t talk about is death. So even if she sees one of your relatives is going to die in the near future she won’t come right out and tell you. Instead she’ll say they may get sick or get in a serious accident, and just leave it at that.

And as I write this, I stopped short as I realized she told me something and it happened – and I had totally forgotten she had told me about it! Okay, that’s a bit creepy.

Well, during my lifetime she said a few things that impressed me. She detailed my past very efficiently, right down to the fact that I generally liked to dress in guy’s clothing (however, this day I was wearing a nice tanktop and very much female flared jeans). She also told me that I would start dressing much more effeminate (uh, that’s what I was trying to do!), and that I would start to experiment with my hair (I’ve been doing that for quite a few years now, though). She then asked me if I had any friends who gave me a hard time and called me things such as ‘butch’. I promptly said no. She then told me to watch out in the very near future as someone would start spreading rumours about this. I dismissed this as hogwash.

She then told me that within five years I would find the guy for me, I would find a job I liked (that paid extremely well), but that during my entire lifetime I would be living out of a suitcase – in that I would always be on the go. She also said I would have a great sex life (this pissed my friend off to no end, as the psychic never told her such a thing), and every time I go see her she is adamant about this one fact. It helps that my sex life since then has been positively amazing.

And this is where things got creepy. She asked me what I wanted to do for a living, and I told her the truth. I don’t really know what I want to do (well, I do, but I find it is a pipe dream) but that I wanted a steady job with a nice income. She said I would find it, but that by my late 30s I would be a published author. How did this crazy lady know I loved to read and write? But that’s not all. She scared the hell out of my friend with the following: “You’re going to write a lot of stories once you get published. You’ll be writing all sorts of stuff, but a lot of it is going to be like Stephen King.” My friend literally screeched in excitement and awe, and the psychic continued, “But you’ll also write other stuff, like children’s books.”

Okay, so we also had a little chuckle. Me? Children’s books? Boy, those kids are going to be scarred for life.

She said a few more things, and we all left happy, although minus 25 dollars.

So she read me like a book. That didn’t make her psychic.

And I thought that until two weeks later when a coworker jokingly started spreading a rumour that I was a lesbian. Now my friend worked in the same place I did, and when she heard the rumour she came to me and said the words I was thinking, “She was right! She so totally saw this!”

Okay, I admit it. I believed the woman was psychic.

I went back for my yearly.

And I went back this August. Her reading from this August has been so exact that it’s creeping me out at this point. Obviously not everything she foresees is going to happen. But so far, a lot of it has. She foresaw that a man would leave me for another woman (and lo and behold my last boyfriend technically kind of did), she told me I would be going to a few weddings (I scoffed at this because I didn’t know anyone getting married – and then the aforementioned man who left me invited me to a wedding) She told me that I love my job, and enjoy being at work, but that I would start spending way too much time at work. Which I am. Bus strike means I have to hitch a ride with a fellow coworker. Said coworker works from seven until five, whereas I work from eight until four. Therefore I’m working two extra hours a day. And it’s making me go nuts.

There were other things she foresaw, but quite honestly I can’t remember it all, and the list of what she told me is on another computer.

I still stand by what I’ve said before. Most psychics are frauds. They use very open-ended answers, and leave you to believe it in order for it to come true. And I agree that a lot of what the psychic said falls under that category. If someone tells you this is going to happen in your life, and you believe it, you will start to do things in order for it to happen. It certainly doesn’t make the person psychic. But when a psychic tells you that a man is going to leave you for another woman (or because of), and your boyfriend leaves you because of his ex-girlfriend, it freaks the hell out of you.

What she said about my becoming published has only caused me to start writing once more.

One more item on my agenda.

Aliens.

I ask you this: What gives humanity the right to assume that they are the only sentient (not to mention living) beings in the entire universe.

Science has proven that the universe is larger than belief. How can someone sit there and claim that Earth is the only planet amongst billions of planets that could have formed life? Throwing around religious texts isn’t going to debunk anything. If anything it causes the people of today to scorn those who believe wholeheartedly that God created the Earth, and then put fancy-lookin’ stars in the sky so that we could have something to look at.

Science, nay human technology, has proven that our universe is vast, and that each star is a sun burning millions of light-years away. And with each sun comes the possibility of planets. And with each planet comes the possibility of life. And I don’t mean snails, and moss. I mean the possibility of creatures like us, of creatures like the whales, of creatures like the elephants. Shall I continue on listing the intelligent creatures that live on this planet?

Next time the people who laugh at the idea of aliens go outside at night, I ask them to do this: Look up. Begin to count the stars you see (pray that you’re looking at a sky rid of clouds, and light pollution). Each star can be considered a chance that there is other life than ours. Possibly even more than one chance! Who is to say that that sun has just one planet circling it with just the right amount of distance, atmosphere, gravitational pull, etc, to support living creatures?

Do people not see how small we truly are? That we aren’t as special as our egos want us to believe? I understand it’s your religion and you have every right to believe in it the way you wish. But sometimes I am saddened to see that humanity, as a whole, thinks that they are invincible and the top dog (aside from God). And I am saddened to see people believe that an almighty god who we can’t touch, see, or hear created the universe in just seven days, and that he created it for US. Because, to me, that is so close-minded. People ignore the facts so that their religion makes sense.

And I can understand why aliens have not made true contact with us. Why must we assume that the aliens would be much more technologically advanced? Could they not be at the same stage, or a stage lower than us? It is either we are alone or the aliens have to be superior. I’m so confused!

And yes, I do believe we’ve done a few cover-ups. No doubt about it. So I guess that means I do believe in a superior race of aliens. Some even suggest that the people who resided in Atlantis were descended from aliens.

I don’t know.

I just know they’re out there.

Whack fall the day!

PS – The psychic had the audacity to tell me that I was weird. And then she told me to never change.

Doggett Musings

2008-12-30T13:35:00.000-08:00

Let’s talk about Doggett, shall we?

What can we say about him?

Hmm.

Loyal. Stubborn. Hands on. Serious. Workaholic. Obsessed. Dependable. Strong. Protective. Family-oriented. Humble. Honourable.

With those traits alone, one wonders why so many people hated the man.

But I understand. It’s that fear of change. And instead of putting all the blame on Duchovny, they decided to lay the blame on Robert Patrick for trying to ‘replace Mulder’. But, you see, he never did that.

Sure, during the first few episodes of Season 8, I was prepared for a man who would take over Mulder’s spot on the show, but Agent John Doggett never did such a thing. Meanwhile, he may have replaced Mulder in my heart, but only because when Mulder ‘came back’ he just wasn’t the same quirky, sarcastic man that I had grown to love. And let’s face it: I had fallen head over heels for Doggett while Mulder was MIA.

Why did Kogo fall for John Doggett?

Gosh, where do I begin?

During January and February I met the perfect person for me. Let’s call him RC. RC is amazing. He’s never afraid to try new things, and hates being bogged down by our hometown. His personality is much like my own – craving to try new things, always trying to learn the most random facts, just being unique. He’s an amazing guy.

Without RC in my life, I fear I would have fallen into a deep depression this past month. But thankfully in my hour of need the bugger finally made it back to Canada, rang me up, and I realized he truly was out of sight, out of mind.

RC has stated he could never date me, because in the right light I look like my brother. Although to be quite honest I saw some wistful looks coming my way in the past week or two. But whatever.

When he came out and said that last winter, I was definitely crestfallen, and needed something to fall back on. And well, I always found that RC reminded me of Robert Patrick if he were his age. Or, maybe I should say that I just know RC is going to grow into the same kind of physique as what Patrick has now. So I hit the X-Files and began to be attracted to Robert Patrick. Soon, I was falling in love with the character as well. Because, as I listed above, John Doggett has many wonderful traits.

John Doggett became the perfect man. His clear blue eyes, his accent, his hair (oh what I’d give to run my hands through that hair), his past, his present, his future. That man was everything I wanted.

Jesus, I’m lying, and if Luvy were here to read this he’d say so too. And then claim I really think Max is the perfect man.

*shakes head*

Let me reiterate. John Doggett was the perfect man personality-wise for me.

His past had a big effect on my personal life. Seriously. When I watched John Doe I nearly cried as he began realizing things about himself. “I was a Marine.”

“I had a son.”

When Doggett finally realized his son was dead, he had to go through that torture as if it were brand new.

Let’s just say Robert Patrick should be commended for his amazing acting during this show.

Doggett was never a stalker. He not once went past the boundaries of being a caring friend. He was concerned for Scully’s wellbeing throughout the entire eighth season, as well as in the ninth season. He was only looking out for her wellbeing.

My God.

What I’d give for a man to care about me that much. Nay, what I’d give for anyone to care about me that much.

Doggett was a protector, and boy did my heart need protecting.

So please, no more hating on Doggett.

Whack fall the day!

The Safety Net Musing

2008-12-30T09:35:00.000-08:00

One person I used to know couldn't understand it, and another just laughs when I start spewing off random trivia. But truly, why do I do it? Because it's a safety net. And it may explain why sometimes I can stay focused on one for such a long time, and sometimes go through many at once. It's to keep me sane (well, I suppose that could be debated), and to keep my heart from being abandoned.

Yes, I am referring to my celebrity 'obsessions', if you will. I know I'm not the only person to do this, so even though I do know I'm weird, it's certainly not because of my fixations. Well, except, perhaps what I choose to fixate on.

But let me be ultimately clear. I am not truly fixating on the celebrity. I take that face, that body, that beauty and turn it into a spokes model for the things I truly want in a mate. True enough, I do study up on my favourite celebrities - I've read a dozen or so books on Kurt Cobain - but I think deep down I'm hoping to find those traits that I've focused on. And sometimes I do find them. Like in Ewan McGregor's case. But I certainly won't go into detail.

My safety net tends to vary, but I've found they all generally have something in common - loyalty to family. So I know I'm looking for something stable in a relationship. Someone dependable, and loyal, and who won't throw my heart in a grinder.

Safety Net

You are my safety net,
Safety net for my heart.
I know you will catch me
If I fall apart.

When the world
Comes knocking at my door,
I turn to you,
As you've saved me before.

When I look at you
I see perfection.
When I look in the mirror
I wish to see your reflection.

You stand for everything
I've come to know and love.
All my hopes and dreams
Fit you like a glove.

I know you're not real;
But to create you is a must.
For in a world like this one,
You're the only one I trust.

***

You still are that safety net. You don’t know me. And in all honesty it is your character that I am so fascinated with.

A man with a past, Chris Carter truly developed an amazing thing. An ex-marine, and ex-cop, you are now in the FBI, assigned to the most unlikely division for someone like you. You believe in the cold, hard facts, and you are one tough cookie. You are loyal to the point of blindness. You are not capable of believing in the paranormal. It just isn’t in you, and this has saved you. And you have a weakness. You have such a weakness. All good characters need that one vital spot that can send them to their knees in agony, and that vital spot for you is your son. The murder of your son ten years ago still weighs heavily upon your mind, and at times it can bring you to tears.

This character I am wildly in love with. Seriously. Nothing can compare to a man whose morals include loyalty to family, and a drive to find the truth.

But I have to admit to liking your looks, too.

Musings on Heartache

2008-12-30T09:04:00.000-08:00

To finally have something that you’ve wanted for so long and then to have it taken from you. It’s mind boggling, earth shattering. It rips at your heart, as you realize something you craved for so long is over, it’s gone, it will never come back.

You still want, you still need, and you still crave for this thing, However, this thing is gone, your life is now devoid of something you had become so accustomed to. You had let your life revolve around something, and now it was gone. So you are spinning off into outer space, with nothing to pull you in. You had put effort into this. And you had made commitments, and plans for the future, and this one person was such a big part of your life because you thought that this person, this single soul, was the one.

And then the world you were living in was shattered apart. Suddenly, you are finding out, at an unexpected moment that no, this person was not the one. In fact, this person didn’t even want to have anything to do with you anymore.

You have to get used to being only half a person, because you were whole when you were with him/her. It’s hard to do this. Much like when a loved one passes on, and you feel an empty space where they used to fill your life, you are now walking around empty, and pretty much everything reminds you of that person. Favourite foods, favourite places, everything.

So you’re constantly rehashing the past, and trying to figure what went wrong. And finally, you start to stop thinking about it so much – although not a day goes by that you don’t think of him/her. Finally, you’re feeling better. And then one of those future dates you had planned. Well, the event comes up in your calendar. And *bam* you’re right back down in the gutter again, curled up in the foetal position, crying your goddamned eyes out.

“I hate when things are over, with so much left that’s undone.”

Yah. Perhaps that’s the worst part. All the things that were planned. And not just the set in stone dates, but those tentative plans that you were continuously saying that you had to do together, like go to a certain bar, or go for a bike ride along a nice bike path, perhaps even planning a visit to an historical site. Then, when you finally do go about making plans to do those certain things – with other people, of course – you get nostalgic and teary-eyed and wish that you were doing this with that special someone who no longer thought of you as special.

“When you’re dialing six numbers just to hang up the phone
Driving cross town just to see if she’s home
That’s when she’s more than a memory.”

Sometimes it’s hard to forget, because the person was the highlight of your life. Not only were they a lover, but a best friend as well. And when you find out that your best friend doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, it hurts. Because you had confided so much to your best friend. They knew things that no one else in the world knew about you. You feel betrayed. And don’t forget, they know everything. Every embarrassing thing. And they can pass this information on to whomever they please.

Whack fall the day!

Marketing Musings

2008-12-30T08:55:00.000-08:00

I don’t want to be rude, and I’m not trying to offend anyone, but writers, and actors, and directors… sometimes they say the things they know people want to hear. And I’m not against that. I was a marketing student before I decided to switch to human resources. I know that these people understand that no matter what they want to do, if the audience doesn’t like it, they’ll lose fanbase, and if they lose fanbase, they lose money, and if they lose money, well… they may lose their creation.

I’ve once had someone tell me that they hated marketing. Marketing was evil, plain and simple. Nothing good ever came from marketing. Her example of marketing being evil is for a song. On the regular track on the album, it has a bagpipes solo – which is awesome. I love that solo, I think it’s awesome, and it fits perfectly into the song. However, when the band decided they wanted to put the single on the radio, they changed that solo into a guitar solo. And I’ll be honest – it sucked. In fact, it sorta stole away from ‘oomph’ the song had. So instead of having a great song play on the radio, the band now had an okay song. Many people thought the song was ruined. Because marketing said “No, we can’t have a bagpipes solo. Too many people hate the bagpipes.”

So, marketing is evil? Because of a bagpipes solo? Okay, fine. Great Big Sea chose the wrong people to help market their music. I’ll admit that. But to say that marketing is good for nothing is ridiculous. The woman arguing this point to me was American. Great Big Sea, her favourite band, was Canadian. And I hate to break it to her, and to others, but this band is barely known in the States, compared to Canada. In fact, I’ve even had people from Newfoundland (the province the band originates from) become surprised when they found out I love the band. They had no idea how popular the b’ys were on the mainland. And you know what? The only reason I know about Great Big Sea is because of marketing. Yes, I said it. Marketing. Without marketing, that band never would have gotten off The Rock. They’d still be playing pubs, or maybe even theatres, in Newfoundland. Marketing includes some of the most basic things from posters to word of mouth. But without marketing so many things would not be so well known today. Without some marketing genius saying “Let’s get your album over to the mainland in Ontario,” Great Big Sea might never have made it as big as they did. And no one, including myself, would know they existed.

The same goes for the X-Files. People say things, people do things, but it doesn’t mean they agree with them. It’s with the understanding of “I need more money, so I’ll cater to the wants of the people.” Shows like this, that last as long as they do, they are not made solely as something that the creators want. They have to make compromises. They have no choice. I know this. And you know, sometimes the marketing choice is a big flop. Look at the ‘new Coca Cola’ they had made. It flopped so bad they brought the old Coke back, slapped ‘Classic’ on the bottle, and fired the bugger who had said, “Let’s make a new Coke!” I can only assume they fired him/her, I have no proof. But if I were to have an employee botch up that bad I’d make sure their ass was on the street by the end of the week. It was a poor decision on the marketers’ part, as well as whoever created the recipe, and whoever agreed that it tasted good. In fact, I bet Coca Cola was having a fit when that idea fell through. I wonder how much money they lost because of a bad idea?

Now I’m not saying that everything they’ve come out with is against what CC wants. I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying it’s not carved in stone. He certainly won’t admit that he didn’t want something to happen. It would give an air of bitterness, and the fans would be disappointed. So really, anything that comes out (cards, magazines, books) has to be taken with a grain of salt. It has to be. Because it is all just a marketing scheme. Whether or not CC approved of the marketing scheme is another matter. For all we know, he could have approved of everything, although that’s highly unlikely. Just as his disapproving of everything is highly unlikely. I’m sure there are certain things that we, the consumers, have snatched up, that Carter looked at and said, “But why? No, I don’t like it.”

It’s not whether or not you’ll like it, it’s about whether or not you’ll like it enough to buy it. That’s not CC. CC put his name on it, yes, but CC created the show and the movies, not the merchandise.

Don’t get me wrong. I love merchandise. However, I am completely aware of the main goals of producing the stuff. It’s a win/win situation, although, truth be told, the consumer is getting robbed blind usually. This is why I usually end up buying my merch second-hand. Come to think of it, I buy most of my stuff second-hand. Clothes, merchandise, movies. Why buy it at full price when I can buy it at a fraction of that, and have fun searching as well?

That’s really all I have to say.

Just don’t think that the merchandise is something special and created because of CC, and not because of marketers out to get your every penny.

Whack fall the day!

Stereotype Musings

2008-12-30T07:31:00.000-08:00

I hate being stereotyped.

And the thing is, before I dived into the X-Files fandom I had never really been stereotyped before. Oh sure I’ve been called, “That Megadeth Girl”, and a lot of the grungers in high school deemed me worthy to talk to them. I think that was the closest I have ever been to being stereotyped, and at that time I certainly enjoyed it. I loved metal and grunge music. It made me tick. But I never truly was a punker or a metalhead. Not quite. And so I continued to be unlabelled.

Oh, but now I’m labelled. I’m a Dipper, a DSRist, someone who believes in the Doggett/Scully Relationship. I’ve taken to calling myself the Deranged Stereotypical Rebel for a reason.

I am Delusional because many people seem to continuously tell me I’m nuts for wanting to believe in a non-existent relationship that will never, ever, ever happen, and can’t I get that through my thick scull?

I am Stereotypical because there are childish fools out there who believe that all Dippers think alike. And they don’t give my posts the light of day because they know we’re all crazy in the head, and seem to have a hate for Mulder. And if they do give my posts the light of day, it’s only to pick out the parts they don’t like, and they certainly ignore the valid points I’ve made.

And I am a Rebel because I choose to follow the beat of my own drum.

I am sick and tired of people typing out that all DSRists hate Mulder and think he is abusive.

I am sick and tired of people claiming that all DSRists hate MSR.

I am sick and tired of people accusing all DSRists of actually wanting the DSR to come to fruition.

People like this are giving me a bad name!

I’m not saying that the other DSRists are bad, or even a) deranged b) stereotypical or c) a rebel. I’m not saying that at all. I’m trying to say that I am a unique individual who perceives the DSR in a completely unique way! Granted that most of the other DSRists are going to agree with one point or another that I make, but come on! I’m sure all MSRists believe in some same points, but not all the same points!

So please, stop telling others precisely how I think. Because it’s not how I think.

I think differently than the rest, because I am my own person and not some stereotype you slap on my forehead.

Whack fall the day!

Musings on 2008

2008-12-30T07:02:00.000-08:00

What is that one moment of 2008 that stands out? The one moment of the year that you will probably never forget. Put concerts, and movies, and entertainment aside. A moment in time with another human being. Was it all of three seconds, or three hours? Was it a moment of anger, love, bemusement, lust, excitement, hysteria?

What is that single solitary memory that you want to describe 2008 with?
I remember it clearly. Most of the lights were off, and you were about to leave. You were down on one knee, bent over, tying your boot. And then you looked up. And I think I lost all sane thought in that moment.

You fulfilled so much in that moment. You don’t know that, nor do you probably care. Hell, if I passed you in the supermarket, you probably would pretend like you didn’t see me. And that’s okay. I dealt with that months ago. But you still affected me in so many ways. I changed so much, I prepared for what was to come in my life.

And it all started with a light blue gaze in a dimly lit apartment. One of the few times I had the pleasure of actually looking down upon you. We both know you certainly didn’t leave the apartment though, now did you? You had all intentions of leaving, but why, you seemed to have found someone you could never, ever satiate, didn’t you?

It was the look, it was the clothes, and it was everything you stood for. All in one single moment near my front door. I was lost in a sea of green, and all I had to do was hold on to you for dear life. You knew exactly what got to me, and you admitted freely that you did. Nor did I deny it at all. You knew how I ticked, and you used it to best suit you.

But in that one moment you didn’t know how I ticked. In that moment you learned precisely how I worked. You suddenly knew that I would be weak in the knees so long as I had a moment like that. And so you tried to give me a few more moments like that.

I don’t think I was ever happier in my life than I was during those few blissful spring and summer nights. I became more fully aware of myself, as I lost sleep on weekends because I was too busy just being in your company.

But it was that one moment, in June. I got lost in your eyes, and realized I enjoyed being lost. So why must I know where I am now? What I’d give to be floating in space once more.
Bring it on, 2009!

Grammar Musings

2008-12-30T06:13:00.000-08:00

I have been reading novels since a very young age. I completed reading my first Stephen King novel in grade six at the ripe old age of what? Twelve? My mother has always encouraged reading and writing in her home, and I suppose that is one of the few things I can happily remember about my home life.

And so, with a lot of reading comes a strong grasp of the English language. I’m proud to say that I received 100% my first year in college in English, and around 90% the next year. This was business English so that meant a strong grasp on grammar. Yes, punctuation is a very serious thing to me.

I cringe when I see 1337 (leet) and yet I’m fluent in the language. Why? Because it’s really just butchered shorthand. Yes, I understand shorthand. No, I’ve never taken a course on it. And while I can understand shorthand, and realize some of the benefits (shortening words like you to u and though to tho), I’m greatly against it. Why? Because, to me, the written word is special. It’s not something that should be taken for granted, and thrown to the side because there are more important and/or fun things to do.

Writing, for me, is a gift. I have a very strong grasp on grammar, punctuation, proper spelling, and description. It is what I was born to do. To express an idea through the written word. I love to write. Fan-fiction, novels, reports on the most random subjects. I can not express how much I love to write! And writing these Musings Threads is great fun! I enjoy being able to show off my talent, and my ideas and thoughts, and have other people read them and respond.

I have a love of repetition, mainly threes. I love, love, love to write about Doggett! Like such. I have absolutely no problem with fragmented sentences (I do read Stephen King, after all), but only if they make sense.

To punctuate a sentence improperly is to make my eyes bleed. I cry when I see the improper use of a period, or exclamation mark. Actually, no. The improper use of an exclamation mark pisses me off to no end. Because it makes the writer seem like they are ‘exclaiming’ or close to shouting their responses. I once ran a Role Playing Message Board called Dizzy Seagulls (there was more to the board than that) and another called Hell’s Gate (about a post-apocalyptic world), and there was this one member who used the exclamation point as if it were the only punctuation she knew.

Let me show you an example:

For instance! if she were to write about her favorite character! Sephiroth! she
would not use a comma or period!

Oh. My. God.
Shut up.
Please?

It hurt to read her posts. I’m not kidding! Especially since I’m prone to reading all text like it is a novel. And yes, I can get really into novels. And it made it even harder to have in depth stories. Let’s not even discuss the hours I spent fixing the grammar and spelling mistakes in her posts when I decided to save part of the Hell’s Gate story.

So, you know what? While I’m an open-minded individual, and can understand most any point of view, there is one view that I can not understand. The view of the shoddy-wordsmith. You know who I mean. The one who spells most words right, but just can’t seem to give a damn if s/he gets it right or not.

I don’t understand how certain people just can’t use the written English language properly – unless English is not your first language, because in that case I understand wholeheartedly how hard it is to learn a new language! It’s those people who claim English to be their mother tongue, and yet kill the language the moment they put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard.

It’s a hard thing to put up with. I am friends with a lot of high school students as I used to be a band officer for a cadet squadron, and a lot of those kids use 1337, and can’t write worth a damn. And I have certain friends who can’t spell, but still like to use the internet to talk to me. It hurts my eyes worse than a badly out-of-tune lead-trumpet player (and trust me, I’ve heard quite a few of those) hurts my ears.

I guess I just don’t understand how people have a hard time with the written word. I see words when I say them or think them. Which makes spelling certain words backwards a cinch. So yes, if you play Cranium with me, you know I’ll be able to answer all the spelling questions!

I guess what I’m trying to get at is that I’m grateful that most everyone on this message board, and every other message board I frequent (and there’s quite a few of them) have a strong grasp on that thing I love the most (well aside from redheaded men in kilts and uniforms – THAT is my top favourite thing in the whole world).

Thank you.

Mulder Musings

2008-12-30T05:49:00.000-08:00

People seem to assume that because I, and others like me, prefer the Doggett/Scully Relationship match-up, that I (or we) don’t like, or even hate, Fox Mulder. And I then get accused of not being a true X-Phile, because without Mulder there would be no X-Files.

I agree.

Without Mulder there would be no X-Files.

Mulder is largely responsible for my love of the television show!

His dry sense of humour, and dashing good looks can make most anyone swoon.

I love the way he thinks. And to be quite honest I preferred him as a single man who obviously had issues with keeping a relationship. Why? Well, this is a good question. And it requires a long and boring but perhaps entertaining explanation that may even bring you back to an even older television show.

Constant Reader: Kogo? Another television show? You watch more TV than just the X-Files?

Kogo: Yes, I do. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I watch all sorts of stuff that the American channel SciFi plays in their daytime rotation marathons!

Constant Reader: What do you mean by American channel?

Kogo: Well, I mean to say that the Canadian SciFi channel, Space, sucks. And I miss being able to watch SciFi, like in the days of old, before everything went digital.

Constant Reader: There was a time before digital?

Kogo: Yes, let me take you back to the days of lore…

Star Trek.

Not just Star Trek… the Original Series, also known from here on in as TOS. I’m not a big fan of Star Trek, but I can definitely hold my own when discussing the subject. Especially on the topic of Spock.

Spock. The opposite of Kirk, really. And did you know that many women were attracted more to the character of Spock than that of Kirk? There’s a very simple reason for this: Spock was unattainable. He was impervious to any advances made by the opposite sex, and this is a big turn on for women. Because they fantasize that they will be that one woman who could break through the man’s defenses.

Leonard Nimoy spent a good amount of time describing the fact that he received much fan mail from the women, and the fact that William Shatner had been jealous of this fact.

I loved Spock.

He was awesome.

So. Fucking. Logical.

Yes, wouldn’t you want to be the one to get past all of his defenses, make him feel raw emotion and desire?

Oh, wouldn’t that be good for the ego?

It’s not much different, when I was obsessing over Fox Mulder. I thought he was gorgeous, and I loved the fact that he always seemed to be single, even though there was some evidence that he had a few dates here and there. He was unattainable, but yet not totally out of reach, like Spock. And yet, he was the total opposite of Spock. He believed in the paranormal, in the existence of extraterrestrials, in things that the average public would dismiss as myth and bullshit. And he had this obsession with porn. But that was okay. Because I wanted Mulder all to myself.

So is it such a surprise that at first I positively hated Scully? Because she was a threat to Mulder’s singleness. I wanted Mulder single, so I could fantasize about myself and that drop dead gorgeous FBI agent!

Eventually I started to squee at any signs of UST between the two, but that is neither here nor there. This small rant is about my love of Mulder.

I love that he eats sunflower seeds. I have this addiction to them myself. My apartment has bags of sunflower seeds scattered everywhere. I have every type imaginable, from unshelled, to honey roasted. That thing with the pencils? It was such an odd quirk, but I thought it was great! If I were able to do that at my place, you know I would!

I named my newest car Fox, when I bought it. I even had a stuffed fox in the backseat. Mind you, when the car started to fall apart, part after part, I renamed it Wheezy, and bought a giant microbe cough, and threw that in the backseat, and promptly got rid of the fox. Why? Because the car was not worthy of the name Fox. My Cirrus has been fixed now, and no longer makes the wheezing sound, and we appear to be on good terms, so I’ve deemed to call the car Fox again, and even got some “Foxy” decals for it. I’m currently trying to find a new stuffed fox for the backseat once more.

Fox Mulder will always remain my first love on the X-Files, and while I am more inclined to watch an episode with John Doggett in it, I can still name off a few favourite moments with Mulder.

My favourite moment was when his dry sarcastic humour was showing the best.

You know the moment. Our favourite midget trailer motel owner was underneath Scully’s trailer, and Mulder caught him. When the man tried to tell Mulder that many women found his height “alluring”, Mulder replied with, “And I’m sure a lot of men do as well” or something along those lines.

If I had been drinking milk, you just know it would have come out my nose at that moment! I gasped, I laughed, and damn near cried. It was the perfect XF moment for me.

My favourite episode has got to be Vienen. Why? Because I get to see my two favourite FBI agents working together!! It’s true! Both men are sexy, in my opinion, and it was heaven watching them walk around that oil rig.

OMG.

Those damn JEANS.

*sigh*

Where was I?

Oh yes.

I love Mulder.

And if I had the option of getting with either Mulder or Doggett, I think I might choose Mulder first. Because of everything he stood for.

But if you were to give me the option of getting with David Duchovny or Robert Patrick, Patrick wins hands down. Sorry folks, but his ice blue eyes, and the fact that he rides a bike… makes him that much better than Duchovny. Duchovny is gorgeous, without a doubt. But Patrick… oh god. His eyes. They make me weak.

And that’s about all I have for now!

Whack fall the day!

Why I DO Ship DSR

2008-12-30T05:41:00.000-08:00

Maybe I should clarify what I am just a bit more.

I 100% love Mulder. I think he’s amazing. He encompasses so many things I look for in friends (especially being freaky weird). I never once thought of Doggett as better than Mulder. And I know there are a few people out there that do.

No, I think Doggett is an equally great character.

I love them both. The same.

Yes, the same.

I know you don’t believe me. But that’s okay!

I fell in love with Mulder almost the same time I fell in love with the X-Files. I’m a strong believer in the paranormal. Before I called the X-Files my favourite show, I was calling Ghost Hunters my favourite show, with Sliders falling in close behind. I believe in so many things that are labeled “paranormal” and “sci-fi”. Sometimes I even believe that whales are sentient beings (so shut up about Reyes and her whale song, please).

So to love Mulder sort of goes hand in hand with my beliefs, right? It doesn’t hurt that David Duchovny is a gorgeous specimen of the male gender.

So it’s here that I wish to explain to all of my fellow philes that I am not in love with Doggett and hate Mulder. I love them both.

Yes, I think Doggett is a perfect match for Scully. No, I do not believe Mulder is. I feel that while there is most obviously strong chemistry (physically and emotionally) between Mulder and Scully, a relationship between the two would be most unhealthy. I’m not saying the relationship never happened. It obviously did. What I’m saying is that I feel the two characters are much too different personality-wise for the two to ever have a normal and healthy relationship, which is something Scully wishes to have, as she has said so herself.

Mulder will never be able to give her precisely what she is looking for.

Now, I’m the first to admit that if I love a person, I’m willing to accept the things I can not have in a relationship. And I’m sure Scully has decided to forfeit her dreams because her love of Mulder is so strong. But what’s so wrong with Scully pondering what it would be like to be in a steady relationship with Doggett? Is it so wrong for people to think outside the box and wonder about the ‘what-ifs’?

Some people find that it is wrong to think outside the box. And they continuously rehash the fact that Mulder and Scully rowed off into the sunset together at the end of IW2B. Fine, they did. In extremely shoddy CGI, they rowed off to some unknown future. I saw it, I felt myself throw up a bit in the back of my throat, and then I left the theatre. Yes, Scully is with Mulder, no matter what. No, she will never get with Doggett. No, I will not stop thinking about what if they did.

Yes, I want Doggett in the third movie, if it ever comes about. I think Doggett could offer so much to the movie, and I really would love to see him end up being the director. Because everyone continuously said he would. So in my dream world, Doggett would be in charge!! I in no way want Doggett to be in the third movie just so he can hook up with Scully. I’m smarter than that, and I’m pretty sure most Delusional Stereotypical Rebels agree with me on this one. We know the two will never get together. So stop telling us that it will never happen. We already know! We’re not as stupid as some people make us out to be.

I think the reason I love the Doggett/Scully Relationship match so much is because it gives me the opportunity to be the writer, so that I can match them up as I see fit. Not because I wish it to happen in the television show. If anything, I don’t want to see it happen. Ever. The moment the relationship is canon, I’m bored. Which is why I’m still being stringed along while watching Bones. Because Booth and Brennan have yet to get together! And omg, please don’t let them together! I enjoy the awkward situations where I squee and *wish* they would just KISS GODDAMNIT. I enjoy that feeling.

See, that’s the thing guys. The moment the girl gets the guy, the Harlequin Romance is over. Perhaps there’s another fifty pages to tie up loose ends, or perhaps something happens where they’re torn apart so that you’ll come back for a second novel. But the moment the heroine is in that hero’s arms, the story is over. Because that’s the only reason we’re reading those books (well, aside for those raunchy sex scenes).

You show me a person who reads those books for the plot, and I’ll show you a person who is lying to themselves.

And well, that’s all I’ve got for today, guys. Perhaps more musings tomorrow!!

Whack fall the day!

Why I Hate to Ship

2008-12-30T05:27:00.000-08:00

Hello, and welcome to my ramblings.

I’m used to being in a minority. Most of the world doesn’t take into account that there are indeed left-handed people in existence. And so, most products don’t come in a handy left-handed format. Ladles for soup are just one example. You have to search high and low to find left-handed scissors. And notebooks? You can’t produce a left-handed notebook, so we’re screwed if we ever want to write on the right side of the page!

When I was in only kindergarten, the teacher tried forcing me to write with my right hand. Needless to say, my mother pulled me from that class in a heartbeat. In days of old, left-handed women were considered witches. Teachers would smack a student on the hand with a ruler for writing with their left hand. Being left-handed was frowned upon.

So should I really be surprised that harassment is part of the deal when you’re a Dipper? I suppose not. But I thought that in this day and age we could all act like adults. Apparently I was wrong.

I have been told I live in a fantasy world. I have been stereotyped. I have been told that I should just accept facts.

But I can’t accept facts.

Why?

Because this is just fiction, folks. Fiction. And because it is fiction, I can bend it to my own wishes whenever I want, without having to worry about people arguing that something never happened. I’ve always had problems writing stories that included the names of actual people, because it was fiction with a bit of non-fiction in it. But I have absolutely no qualms with altering fiction to better satisfy myself, if only in fan-fiction stories. I know it’s not how a show or book ended, but it’s the ending I would have chosen for myself.

And yet, even though it’s fiction, I still get attacked. Why? Because I dared to think outside the box. I dared to use my own imagination! And I dared to prefer Unrequited Sexual Tension (UST) to a happy couple. Yes, yes I dared.

And you know what?

I think I’ve figured it out!

I am being attacked because the people who attack me don’t understand my love of Doggett, and my love of UST. They don’t understand, and so are frightened by something that is different from the norm. But will they stop and try to understand?

No.

Because that would mean that they would have to go into uncharted territory. That would mean that they too would have to think outside the box. And that’s so obviously scary.

I often wonder why I love trying new and strange things. Why I prefer to do things in a unique way. I hate dressing like everyone else, and I hate owning normal things. I like to be weird. And so becoming a Dipper was just another step toward being that unique individual that I crave to be.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Mulder. That man is gorgeous. And I loved the UST between Mulder and Scully for six seasons. But then it came to pass that it was more than UST. That there was actually a relationship between the two characters. And the part that really got my goat? They did it all behind our backs! I became bored with the characters of Mulder and Scully. They were supposed to stare at each other longingly but not make a move! They weren’t supposed to get it on and have a baby. Just… no!

I lost my love for Mulder and Scully. And then along came Doggett.

My love for Doggett was grown. I started off hating him, but when I started to see the looks he gave Scully, and the fact that he was stubborn and intent on finding Mulder… I began to love him. And I’ll be honest, I think the man is drop-dead gorgeous with those arctic blue eyes.
I can’t help myself.

And yet, I’m attacked because I think the man is gorgeous, and that the character would be a healthy contrast to Scully’s persona.

I get arguments as to why Mulder was a healthy contrast, but that’s all the arguments are. The only time I’ve heard someone try to explain why Doggett wasn’t a good contrast was when someone called him a stalker, which he clearly was not. The arguments AGAINST John Doggett are so flimsy it isn’t funny. It’s a mix of “Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Trash-Doggett, Mulder”. It’s sad.

And so I choose not to come into the DSR section of message boards, because I know someone is going to attack my favourite character. And why? Because they’re frightened. Are they frightened that maybe we Deranged Stereotypical Rebels might have a point? Perhaps.
Or perhaps this is just a case of the majority bashing the minority. As humanity is wont to do.

Whack fall the day!