My study program

I've now started almost all my courses. I say almost for the obvious reason that they haven't all started, but for the less obvious reason that three of my courses have been bumped forward a week, so I'm still waiting to get two of them rolling. So far the courses that have managed to bump their way into first gear have been interesting. I've got a French course that will happily beat my brain into submission with the convoluted rules and exceptions that make up the normal workings of this language. I'm looking forward to it with a sort of masochistic glee, without any real hopes of passing it. I keep telling myself that I like the challenge, and one day I may just start to believe it. I've got English courses as well, which look to be fun, and are the major reason that I and blugeoning myself back into writing. I'm especially looking forwards to the grammar course, where the teacher keeps saying, "Ok, class, remember the first rule . . . Don't Panic." I'll have to ask him if he's read hitchhikers guide to the galaxy. The teacher himself seems to be quite the character, soft voiced, hyperactive, and with a tendancy to wander off in his jokes. In short, my sort of chap.

Of course, I'm still working to take this all in. It's a bit of a shock to think that I will one day hold down a respectable job, that will make respectable money, and (here's the one from bizzaro world) actually be respectable. This is an odd prospect, since I've always sort of gone out of my way to be a twit. I mean, given the choice between popularity and notoriety I will always take the latter. You get to be the central part of such entertaining stories later! Of course, this far from disqualifies me from teaching. In fact if I'm aiming to become an eccentric coot, I'll fit right in working at public schools. I'm shooting for secondary education, with all those tender spirits to crush . . . I mean young minds to shape. We shall see I suppose. 

Though I guess one of the reasons I want to get into teaching is that it seems like it can open so many opportunities to me later in life. I can teach English internationally, and get a chance to see the world and live in it. I can take some extra courses and get a bachelors in English studies, which would allow me to write, and the experience gained with teaching can only give me a plethora of rich anecedotes. Heck, I didn't even phase my teachers, so they much have dealt with people like me before. Either that or they had become so jaded that even my zany antics bounced off their thick teacher carapaces. That's a depressing thought.

Well, here we are up to date with the news on school. I suppose from here on in, I'll focus on writing whatever I think during the day, and so my writing can in some way serve as a journal and possibly be less dull that be rambling on about my school. For the moment though, this is what I've written and I'm sticking to it. I suppose that I have a major advantage when it comes to chosing content with this, since I'm not actually trying to attract readers. As I said to my brother Knoll yesterday, I don't actually expect anyone to schlog through my blog and consequently haven't actually told anyone that it exists. If anyone actually has the bad taste to read this, they has be mercilessly booed and hooted at. You've been warned!

University begins

I've started university. This may seem like a fairly bland statement for the majority of the population, but for me it's big. People who haven't or aren't going to university will probably shrug a little as if to say, good for him. Those who have or are going to university would nod a bit as a manner of saying approximately the same thing. For me though, this is the first step onto a path that will carry me to being what and where I want. For me, this is a frightening prospect. To me, I'm looking into the void of my future. I'm coping by not thinking about it.

Of course, with University comes schoolwork, which is good. I'm the sort of proactive procrastinator who can spend a day just letting my brain percolate. University and its unbending schedules and workloads is a kick in the ass in the right direction. It's getting me back into reading and analyzing what I'm reading. I've once again had to start beating my head against the brick wall of the french language, hoping that the language gives way before my skull. Most importantly though, it brings me back to writing, and hopefully once again wielding the English language like a rapier; fluidly and precisely with jabs towards my opponents squishy bits. 

Which brings us to this blog. No, the point of it isn't to stab people's squishy bits. At least, it's principle point isn't. I'll keep my options open for now. The point is more for me to express myself is a semi-stream of conciousness style on whatever topic I have picked. The end goal of all this is to get back to writing in English. I will be limiting myself so that I don't fall into the same trap of my earlier attempts, which devolved into alot of hot air gargling.

So here we are. About three times a week, I set myself the challenge of writing at least 300 words in the beautiful English language, and at least once a week they have to make some sort of sense. Next entry: My program.

Man

Man, writing on cue is hard.

This is like my fourth attempt at getting some words out, and this time I'm going with it no matter how bad it is. At the beginning I tried writing about the news, then about my day, and finally going all philosophical. "People are animals, and part of nature." But it was crap. I mean, not for lack of analogies. Or whatever. It felt pompous.

But there were some bits I liked. Stuff like:
You ever look at a flock of pigeons? They are following Darwin's commandment. Which can be paraphrased as, "Do what it takes to survive and thrive". Now go by a high school some time. I swear same damn thing. For a bunch of people who want to express their budding individuality, they blend in together pretty good. You've got your crowds of jocks, or nerds, or goths, or emos, or hippies, or whatever flavor of style you run into. They follow the same social rules and the beasts of the jungle. Jocks and lions both travel in prides (the most appropriate use of the word yet). Emos and zebras confuse their predators by blending in visually. From fifty paces I think the only way to tell how many of them there are is by measuring the density of their complaining. Then there's the popular girls who survive by being like sheep. Kinda being fluffy and following the nonexistent leader. Who would have thought that people would copy sheep to get themselves through life. I wanna shave one and knit a sweater. The wool would come prebleached!

Huh

Talk about taking an analogy and running with it. Whatever. People say you shouldn't run with scissors, but I think that was worse.

It's all good though. I'm just like everyone else. I have my moments of brilliance. That . . . wasn't one of them, granted. But the trick to looking smart is by providing contrast. If you look smart all the time, you just kinda fade into a kind of intelligent static. You need to look like a dolt to make your brilliance shine. That's why I act like an idiot. So people around me can more fully appreciate when I'm brilliant. I swear it.

All right, the dead horse of an idea that I'm beating is getting tired so I'll let him have a break for a bit.

Recipe for inspiration

So I was thinking, "I should write something. Get my words out there. Make a difference." I sit back and I ponder. I ruminate. I wait for that flash of inspiration, that epiphany, the bolt from the blue.

Nothing.

So I wait some more.

Still nothing.

Why do my brilliant moments either happen when I'm half asleep or in the bathroom? I think about that idea try to work something clever out of it.
And still.
Nothing.

I pause, for a good longish minute or two. Relax. You can't force this stuff. Think about something else. I mull over the price of tea in china. I meander down memory lane. I become deeply engrossed as to why some of my toenails appear to grow faster than others. My mind is wandering like a pro, just waiting for the right moment to casually glance to the left and find that idea in the rough.

Come on, I know that vein of brilliance is here somewhere.

Moses wandered the desert for forty years, searching. Have I got his patience? The desert of my mind has manna and my thoughts are following my intentions, but they complain about their lot, so my spirit is leaving them to wander. Perhaps when they are pious they shall find their way, and I shall reach the holy land with something clever to say.

Until then though, I guess I'll just have to grind out words and hope to get lucky.

Amazing

So in January, I started a blog. Heavens only knows why, maybe I thought I had something to say.

Like most of my projects, I got distracted and this got thrown to the side. It has been dormant for the last six months, unused and unloved, pining away in the vastness of the internet. Time to break out the violin I guess.

Anyway, like most of my projects I'm putting it back together. Who knows, maybe this time I'll make it work. I just need to put some more time and effort into it. Oh, and I'm probably going to be more vulgar. Do I have any reason to be? Nah, but there's a cathartic release in being horrible.

Which brings us to today.

I'm back and I'm horrible

If you are lucky, you won't read this.

Are there any facts?

I spent a good part of today researching things. In the back of my head I tend to keep a little list of things that people tell me that I want to look up. This can range from who founded the game of hockey, to the seperation of powers between federal and provincial governments.

Ok, so I make a habit of looking stuff up.

It started a long time ago, when I tended to say stuff that I thought was true. I didn't know, but I was pretty sure. Then one day someone challenged me and I ended up looking up whatever I was spouting off about at the time. Turned out I was wrong. Now I look things up to find out if what I'm saying, or what someone else is saying, is opinion or fact. Turns out, there's alot of opinions out there.

Here's an example, shaved legs. I think it's silly that girls shave their legs. I know, I'm the weird one where, but anyway. The point is that I've heard from a number of girls on the topic that after you shave your legs the hair grows back thicker and darker, so once you start you can't stop. When I first heard this, I accepted it without question and began religiously shaving my feet and toes. Don't ask, I wanted hairy feet and toes. To my vast disappointment, NOTHING HAPPENED! The hair just grew back the same each time I stopped shaving it! Apparently hobbit feet are a genetic thing, not something you can cultivate.

The point is, if you look it up, there is no evidence that shaving your legs makes the hair come back thicker. It would be cool if it did, mostly for bald people. (There's a counterintuitive baldness cure, shave your head for a couple months.) But it doesn't. And it won't. No matter how many people tell me that it will.

We are bombarded by facts, opinions, and theories every day. If you accept them without critically looking at them, you are letting someone else think for you. Kind of defeats the purpose of having your own brain, huh?

Yeah, it's Monday

First we developed games to fill our leisure time. Something to pass the time with friends. We were so decadent that we no longer needed to spend all our time scrounging the mud for our sustenance. Then we developed regional teams for sports, so we could pay other people to play our games and be good at them. Saves effort like that, and you don't actually have to be good at anything. Now we have machines that play sports at our controls. Video games. Once again we play the game, but at the convenience of controlling where and when. Of course, now the game is physically simplified into a few button presses and joystick movements. More of a mental than a physical effort.

What's next?

Build machines to play our video games for us, of course! This way we could simulate whole matches and seasons, and keep them on tap for when we have the spare time. Make a separate artificial intelligence for each team. In split seconds the 1's and 0's clash together and it's all set up for your viewing pleasure. Just sit back and enjoy the game, it's all been done for you. Automatic sports! The newest thing in instant gratification!

Ok, you probably chuckled at that idea, but part of you knows that it could happen. Someone could make it and turn a profit. Doesn't it scare you that this joke is plausible?

Go outside and play.