The Lousypoet

Which of course is the natural response when you live in our “pill for everything” kind of society. But is that really the answer?

So here’s the deal. I’m tired in ways that no amount of sleep seems to cure. I constantly feel distracted and find it very hard to settle into one task (for instance, I’ve thought of numerous blog posts to write and instead played Bejewelled Blitz on Facebook). My temper is quicker to flare, I raise my voice more often and I’m downright unhappy. Someone at work said maybe I was still grieving for my dad and just didn’t know it. Maybe. I do feel losing my dad plays a part, but not so much the grief. I think it just adds to this feeling of melancholy and disillusionment. For instance, I said to someone that I hoped there was no God, because if there was he was obviously an asshole that I had no desire to meet. I didn’t used to feel that way. I didn’t used to feel like life was a never ending challenge that had no end or reward. Yet, that’s exactly how I feel now. I get no true joy out of my life, and that I think is the biggest problem. And I realise that it is my problem. My kids have their challenges, but they’re kids. It’s not their job to make me happy (some days it feels like the exact opposite). Technically, it’s not even my wife’s job to make me happy. I need to find this for myself. But the worst part of how I feel right now is that I’m not sure I would make the effort. I am just so blase about everything and have zip in the way of motivation.

So do I need pills? It’s nice to think that there’s something wrong with my wiring and that a single happy pill each day would make me feel right as rain. But I think in the end the truth is that I need to eat better, get more sleep, exercise, and find some kind of hobby that acts as a stimulant and an outlet. I need to find some motivation and time….

Sorry. I’m just complaining. But it’s my blog, so I’ll cry if I want to

So I find myself on the fence in regards to the Olympics. Following Twitter and friends on Facebook, you’d think Canada had found the cure for cancer during the opening ceremonies. Sentiments such as, “I’ve never been prouder to be Canadian” were fairly common. Though I did get a laugh out of the few people who pointed out the particularly phallic nature of the large ice sculptures.

Similar sentiments of national pride erupted when Alexandre Bilodeau won the first Canadian gold medal on native soil.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand feelings of national pride. I’ve even felt similar feelings as I’ve watched the Canadian Women’s Hockey Team destroy every team they’ve faced. But there needs to be some perspective here. Being proud of your countrymen and their accomplishments is admirable. Being proud that we are hosting these games and that in spite of Mother Nature’s lack of cooperation, the events are still taking place is a perfectly fine feeling. But to have these games and any of their results be a source of your greatest sense of pride in your country? That seems to ignore the numerous accomplishments this young nation has managed.

When I first saw the poem by Shane Koyczan performed at the Olympic opening ceremonies, I had what is probably the typical Canadian response, which was, “should we really be bragging?” But after the outpouring of national pride over medals, I gave this poem a closer listen. I realised, that this is in so many ways why we should be proud. And does the poem contain a single “proudest moment?” No. Which is as it should be. No nation, not one that seeks to grow, learn, explore, and be more than it was yesterday, should have any one proudest moment. It should have a string of events and accomplishments that weave a tapestry of pride and joy.

You know what makes me proud when I watch the Olympics? That the stands are filled with people wearing Canadian flags, who shout and cheer when our nation does well, and all of them are different colours, ethnicities and backgrounds. It is a testament to our nation’s ability to take the numerous and disparate and create a country united. We don’t always get things right, and there’s always going to be someone that has to ruin the party, but in general, we are making strides that the world as a whole is failing at. In most major Canadian cities, there are Mosques, Christian churches, Synagogues, Hindu temples and all other manner of religious houses, all within walking distance. Do we have jihads every day? No. So if Canada can make it work on a local scale, perhaps there is hope for an international model.

The Olympic Games are just that, games. Whether we win or lose, means nothing to the greatness of our nation, or the superiority or inferiority of any other nation. There is skill, but there is also luck involved. Be proud when the home town team is doing well, but when they lose, admit that we got beat fair and move on with life. Don’t forget that pride though, because there are so many other things to attach it to; accomplishments realised and in progress that deserve to ignite our patriotic flame. Canadians do patriotism so badly. We really need to work on that….

Life changes, shifts, and moves in an unpredictable manner. Looking back on it, we see patterns and shapes that cause us pause to wonder, is there a plan?

A funny story. My mom is thinking about selling her house. Now that my dad has passed, she feels isolated in her retirement community, not to mention it is set out in the country, which makes night driving (especially in winter) at times treacherous. She wants to be closer to us, avoid the country roads at night, and generally be closer to the shops and services that she uses. So, about two weeks ago, a friend of hers in the area says a lady is looking to buy a house on their street and maybe my mom might want to contact her. My mom takes this as a sign that maybe her decision to move is right, and that now is the time. She goes about cleaning the house. One of the areas she goes to clean is the basement. While she’s down there, she notices an odd smell. She thinks that maybe it’s gas, so she calls enbridge to come take a look. Sure enough, her gas fireplace is leaking! They fix the problem, the lady comes to see the house, and she’s not interested. Now here’s the thing. If this lady hadn’t come over, my mom could be gone, along with her house and part of her neighbourhood. Makes me think, the lady wasn’t sent to initialise the move, she was there to save my mom’s life! Coincidence? Some form of universal push to keep lives on a certain course? Dumb luck? Or desperate human attempts to find order and meaning in chaos?

So this is a test to see if I can make this blog from my new iPhone work.

It’s been two months since I last posted here. Time really does fly when you’re having…. fun? Yes, I think time flies when you’re stressed, crashing from deadline to deadline, and generally feeling like life is spinning out of control. Fun has so very little to do with the flight of time.

Just as I haven’t graced this blog with words, nor have I written a single page of my book. In fact, I’m just mothballing this whole author thing. I so would like to be a writer, but desire is truly not enough. Along the line, you have to give yourself to a project to see it through to an end. I haven’t done that. I sit and waste my writing time playing Bejewelled on Facebook, or trolling the net’s myriad of movie websites. If I’m honest with myself, I have dreams, but neither the drive nor the talent to currently pursue them. I think if I was really honest with myself, I’d have a better shot at completing a kids’ book than a full blown novel. We’ll see what the new year brings.

So I’m fairly convince God hates me. I know, it’s a stretch of the ego to believe that the great divine has a personal vendetta, but the evidence just seems to keep piling up. Check this out, my car died on Christmas day!! Christmas day! So yesterday, we find out it’s going to cost $1200 plus to fix it. This car is old, and the bills just keep piling up. So, we make the best decision, it’s scrap. But I have to get a move on to decide on a new car cause our family needs two vehicles when Carolyn goes back to school, and all the incentive programs on right now are over come Saturday. So I decide I need to get out and check out cars last night, cause I haven’t car shopped in a decade! And guess what… White out, blizzards! Yup, even one of the dealers couldn’t argue when I said God hates me.

Speaking of cars, it’s an odd thing now. I remember when I last purchased a car, you could add various features and leave others out. Now, it seems like an all or nothing scenario. It’s like, you can have the package where everything is manual, or the option where everything is automatic, there is air, a USB port for your MP3 player, oh, and while we’re at it, let’s throw in heated seats! Now, cars have evidently gone down in price, cause 10 years ago, all those options were only available on a vehicle that would cost you $30,000 or more! Now, it’s all there on baseline models! It’s a little scary. Truth be told, carrying car payments is going to be scary. On most days, we just get by. Which will mean me pimping myself out for overtime as much as they call, which will make me tired, grumpy, and probably create some mean hate for my workplace. But, if it means we get some wheels we can count on, I suppose that’s what we’ll have to do. The boys’ pediatrician is in Brampton, an hour or so away, and so is a large portion of our family. We need something safe, and we need something with a warranty! Right now, I’m leaning towards a Kia Rio. It looks reasonable, and the warranty they have smokes everyone else. I think I might take it out for a test drive today. We’ll see how the day progresses.

So I’ve been off my diet since September. Initially, when my dad died, I just couldn’t help myself. I’ve found out that I am an emotional eater, and losing my dad was just too much for my will power. But now, it’s habit, and I’ve gone up 10 pounds. I’m starting to have the same issues as when I first started the diet, so I need to get back on track. This year, I am getting to my target of 195 and doing some exercise! I need to be healthy and strong, if only so I can keep up with my kids!

The year’s end quickly approaches. I will not miss 2009. As much as it brought opportunities, it kicked us in the balls twice as much just to keep us a notch beneath grounded. I knew when the year started with me in the hospital getting my appendix out that it wasn’t a good sign, and I was right. Hopefully, 2010 will bring more joy than 2009 managed. This is a year of new starts, of closing old chapters and starting new stories. Already, I see it won’t be easy, but it is doable. I really hope to be here more often, maybe even do something interesting that someone might want to read. Until then, a very Happy New Year, and all the best for 2010.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. It feels like I’ve been moving so fast, that I don’t even know how much time has gone by. I suppose it’s a good thing that the entries are dated. From that little bit of info, it would be 27 days since I last logged in and wrote anything.

Truth be told, that’s probably the last time I wrote anything of my novel. I was stuck for the longest time. Then, in a matter of days, I wrote a chapter that I felt was the best so far, but it also meant that significant changes would have to be made to the opening. I don’t think that has me crushed. I mean, I always knew I would have to go back and rewrite those sections, and what it did to the story makes it more… compelling? It’s just now I’m stuck again, and moving at the speed I am, I can’t get my head wrapped around it. When I get the time I could be devoting to the book, I instead sit and waste my life playing Bejewelled Blitz on Facebook. Every day I feel more like a loser.

Carolyn is working so hard at school, and some of the stuff she has produced has been amazing. But it seems every day the stress of it threatens to swallow her whole. It’s hard returning to that kind of life after so long. But at the same time, I am so proud of what she has accomplished and how far she has come. If we can just get through this term and the 3 that follow it, I have a strong feeling that this is going to open some incredible doors. Which is probably why I feel the way I do. I’m watching her fulfill what seems like her destiny. It seems all I can do is stall mine. And the worst part of that is it is entirely my fault. I do have time, I could be doing something more, but I just don’t.

Imagine my disappointment that Anne Rice has a new series entitled “Songs of the Seraphim.” I have been sitting on that title for so damn long. I knew it would be good. And now I see it in print. Don’t worry Ms Rice, I know you don’t know me and that my insignificant blog would have never come to your attention. No law suit worries here… Still, disappointed. I’ll have to come up with something entirely different. Ironically, the first book in the series, entitled Angel Time, sounds pretty cool. I might actually read it.

Which brings me to the horror that if I don’t move on this story, how long will it be until someone else uses ideas that will render my story as being a knock-off. Every day I wait is each day my ideas become stale and that some existing author is going to use similar ideas. Problem being, I just don’t feel good enough to write this. I have vague notions of how I want the story to be, but I really lack the training to make it happen. I’ve looked to see if there’s any workshops in my area, but I can’t really find anything. Not that it matters, I wouldn’t have the money for it.

I lost my dad to cancer almost two months ago. God, that’s a weird thing to type. At the time, I had no idea what to say. I thought a million times about writing about it here; writing about him. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It took me nearly a week to finally cry, and I think the tears have only come once more since then. Sometimes I feel horrible, like this should be killing me every day, but then how would I take care of my family that needs me. It hurts most when something happens and I realise he’s not there to talk to. Like sitting here right now, writing this, I feel like there’s million conversations I’d like to have with him, and I can feel the tears welling behind my eyes. I’ve never been one to believe in ghosts, or visitations from beyond the grave. But a part of me continues to hope I’ll see him. And I keep hoping that when that happens he’ll have some insight into my life that I’ve failed to notice. Yup, here come the tears… I’m not going to write a eulogy here. I wouldn’t feel like anything I wrote came close to encompassing my emotions or thoughts. All I’m going to say is that I loved him and I wish he were here. I suppose that’s enough.

Shit, I don’t know where that came from. I just feel like I’m unloading a bit. I don’t know where I’m going. I feel like my wheels are spinning and I’m driving without a destination.

So many ghosts haunt me. Not the literal kind, but, well, the deeds, the thoughts, those things you hope will die with time but never do. Sometimes their weight is crushing. Sometimes I think I won’t make it. But every morning I get up and do what I can to get through the day with my sanity and family intact. Why do we sin the way we do? Are we worthy of redemption? If an angel stood before me now and said I had a purpose, and that all of this was for good reason, just what would I say to him? Thank you… probably. Just for the comfort that it all means something.

Sorry for this post. It’s all over the place, and none of those places are much fun. But I do feel better. I suppose I should come here more often. It is my space after all. Besides, it’s not like anyone even reads this stuff. But if you happen to be the one in 6 billion who does, thanks. I hope I haven’t bored you to tears.

As my mind wanders about the landscape I’m creating for Song of the Seraphim, I begin to realise just how repressed I am. I mean, I rarely (if ever) have sworn on this blog (ok, I just searched and of the over 600 posts here, I said “Fuck” in 6 of them). I don’t really allow my imagination to just go wild, ignoring ideas I deem too outlandish. Why? I mean really, at what point do I just wipe all the crap and dust off and say, “This is who I am!”

I just keep feeling like I’m going up against a wall. It’s like I’m so preoccupied with what people think of me that I won’t break through and do what needs to be done. I need to lift this weight of obligation from my shoulders that I carry for no reason, seeing as how no one else put it there. I mean, if Neil Gaiman can win a Hugo for a kids’ book and respond on Twitter with “Fuck, it won!” why can’t I let go? Time to loosen the collar and just let it rip.

So, in that particular vein,

Fuck, Shit, Piss, Crap, Cock (yeah, I said it, but I’ll spare the other C Word)
Fuckity Fuck Fuckin’ Fuck.

Wow, that felt downright liberating.

Good night assholes (LOL, Kidding)

So i was talking to a buddy at work about the fact that I hate living pay cheque to pay cheque. It’s not easy making what is considered just above low income and supporting four people on it. No matter how hard you work, no matter how much overtime you put in, it always seems that by the end of 1 week, you’re wondering how you will get through the following week until payday because the money is gone.

He says to me, “There are 33 million people in Canada. If you could get just 1 person in 33 to give you $1.00, you’d have a million dollars.” We both agreed that in that context it sounds so easy, but how do you get 1,000,000 people to send you $1.00? Then I thought about North America as a whole. If you combine the population of Canada with that of the United States, you get a total population of 340,827,823. This means that if you got 1 in every 340.8 (we’ll say 341 for rounding purposes) then you would have a million dollars. Or, conversely, if 1 in every 170 people in North America gave you $0.50, you would still end up at a million dollars.

But why be greedy? At this point in my life, if I had $250,00, I would be able to pay off every bit of debt (including my mortgage) that I have. This would mean far more of my cheque going into my pocket, and it would be far easier to support my family and maybe we wouldn’t have to go into overdraft to by my son a gift for his birthday.

If you take that amount, it would mean getting 1 in every 1,363 people to give you $1.00. This doesn’t seem impossible, but what do you give people in return? Gratitude is about the only thing I can promise at this point, hell, it’s the only thing I can afford. So hey, if you’re reading this site, and you feel you have enough charity in you to even contribute $0.25, then I would really appreciate it. If you want, I’ll post your name and a big thank you right here on this very site.

What do you people in cyberland think? Is it even possible to achieve such a thing just based on people’s kindness? Is there charity left in the world? I don’t know. And admittedly, there are people in worse straights than I am. But I am curious, and I can’t help but put the idea out there, just to see what happens.

All the best.

Wow, I am in a funk; and not the “play that funky music white boy” kind of way.

I just wrote two pages of Song of the Seraphim. I have 30 pages now, approximately 8,500 words. What fills me with optimism is that I still have more scenes to write; this is typically the point where my idea loses steam and I ask too many questions about the strength of my story and eventually give up. This time, I still feel that the story is strong, but I’m wondering what I’m really trying to say, or if this is just a tale for the sake of a tale. It just seems to me that this story is writing itself as I go, which is good and bad at all the same time. It’s good, because the easier the ideas flow, the better I believe the end result will be. Bad, because I know that this is going to result in endless re-writes if I ever finish the thing, becuase the end of the journey is outside of my reach.

Last night, I felt like the veil was lifting, and there was a sense of inspiration that I yearned to follow. So what did I do? I fell asleep. Yeah, seriously, I fell asleep. I’m such a loser sometimes. This kind of feeling occurs every now and then; I went into more detail in a post I wrote in October of 2008.

Tonight I feel listless, anxious, but at the same time trying to motivate myself is damn near impossible. With ideas that would carry me at least another 10,000 words onward, I should be hammering away, but it’s really not flowing tonight. I’m hoping tomorrow will be a bit better.

In the meantime, all the best in what you do. Sleep well tonight world.

So yesterday (August 2, 2009 to be exact) I was out with Carolyn, and being kid free (my Inlaws had the kids with them) we tried to figure out how to spend our time. Carolyn was in a bit of a funk, and I wasn’t exactly feeling energised myself. So we decided to go see a set of waterfalls just outside of Owen Sound called Indian Falls. There’s park land initially, and I figured the falls would be close by. Not so much. We hiked at least 1 km, though I’m sure it was more, over rocks, dirt and water, to finally arrive at the base of the falls. It was gorgeous! These falls came right off a shear cliff and fell straight down, but what was especially great was that the ground beneath the falls was hallowed out, so you could walk right underneath (I guess that’s more like behind but meh). Seeing this raw power and feeling the cool mist was exhilarating! Carolyn had an amazing time and I’m really anxious to see what her photos look like. We both agreed it was one of the best things we had done in recent memory. Funny how sometimes the things you do that make a huge impression are the ones that involve the least planning.