Icons! and New Years...

So, I got a MacBook Pro... and it's awesome. Literally. Awesome. But the lack of a 'delete' button does annoy me at times. I'm getting used to it though!!

I just wanted to share some icons I made... I think I've officially found a new hobby! They're all (all three! of them...) HIMYM, obviously, and they're made from screenshots of "How Lily Stole Christmas" 2x11. I'll probably be adding more... Maybe I should get LiveJournal... 

 

  

 

Yeah... so that's how that's going. 

How the heck did New Years get so busy?! I mean, last year I was with Matt (by the way, I now know waaaay too many Matt's...) and we had a nice calm night together. It was really actually sweet, considering that was the day we exchanged gifts. It's funny how skewed your perception of events gets over longer periods of time. Hm... I would how accurate autobiography's are. I mean, I read "Without You" by Anthony Rapp, and that was pretty awesome, and came off as amazingly honest. He shared everything- I don't think I'd be able to do that, and then sell it for other people to read. Everyone who reads his book now know the things he's done. I remember seeing somewhere that writing the book gave him a good kind of closure, but I wouldn't be able to do that. I don't like sharing myself with people. 

On a completely different note (so this note did turn into more than just icons-galore!!), I've become a musical theatre snob. Seriously. Dress rehearsal for the fall show I sat down in the back to play some guitar with Nick Nick, and this random girl (probably grade 10) comes along. I mean, I bet she's the nicest person in the world, but she asked me what kind of music I listened to so I told her musicals. She asked what kind of musicals I liked and I told her Rent (naturally), Wicked (my debut), [title of show] (more people need to listen to this), and I went on, finally saying that I also enjoyed Sondheim's stuff (I'd just discovered Evening Primrose with NPH... mmm NPH...) (NPH... yea...) (What was I talking about? Heehe.) but that I found it a tab bit frustrating how everything he writes... sounds... the same. It's so obvious when you're listening to Sondheim. Not saying that he's not amazing. The dude's a genius. I can definitely appreciate the awesomeness of his lyrics and music, it just gets a little frustrating at times, is all. (NPH was in Assassins... which was Sondheim... NPH has done a lot of Sondheim stuff...) 

Anyhow. I ask the girl what kind of musicals she likes and she says that she loves Danny Elfman. 

... ... dot dot dot ... ... (get my drift?)

I'm sitting there wondering who the hell Danny Elfman is, and why he sounds so familiar when she explains that he's the one who does the score (and lyrics?) for Nightmare Before Christmas and The Corpse Bride (is that the title?). Now, Nightmare Before Christmas is amazing. Completely and utterly amazing. It's a wonderful piece of work, and I'm in awe of all those who were involved with it, at the very least of their patience. Do you realize how much work went into that? I think very few people can comprehend just how monumental that masterpiece is. But yeah. Danny Elfman, while good, is not exactly the response I was looking for. 

Conclusion? I'm a musical theatre snob. Wurd. 

Sparky out.

Photoshop!

So I got Photoshop CS3, and I've been making stuff! Actually, I've only really made this one. 

No, I'm not being nostalgic. The picture was taken by Morgan, and the lyrics are from [title of show] which is simply an amazing musical. I'm planning to make buddy icons!! O.o

Okay, so I made one just now, and I'm going to add it. It's from... "Nothing Good Happens After 2 a.m." - Himym; it took forever cause I used the writing on the greenboard. And it took forever to find a semi-normal expression on Barney's face too... 

Ahhaha!! Yeah.... it took forever... 

Not Alive

It’s not alive, it’s not alive, it’s not alive. 
It’s not alive ‘cause it’s a rock, it’s not alive. 
But it’s my friend and so I wish it were alive. 
But it’s not ‘cause it’s a rock, it’s not alive. 

My friend Daniel, in grade 9 or something, made up that song (maybe with help from Lauren and Tiff? I’m not sure, I can’t really remember). It was about his (fictional) pet rock that he wished was alive, but wasn’t. I’m not sure if that’s the exact song, but it’s close enough. We used to have a lot of fun with it. I think. The sad thing is that I can’t really ask him, ‘cause we don’t talk anymore. I mean, we had a really big falling out during the summer between Jr. high and high school, and I took initiative to make mends with him last summer or something like that. We’re facebook friends, but that doesn’t really mean much in this day and age. It’s just sad that someone who used to be such a big part of my life no longer is. 

There’s another person who used to be a big part of my life too, and I thought that she would stick, but she hasn’t. Didn’t. Whatever. That one was bound to happen anyways. 

And now there’s three (four) that pretty much sum up my life (other than my family) at the moment. And I hope they stick, 'cause I'm pretty fond of each of them.

So, my question is this: 

When do you start finding the constants in your life?

6. NPH -HIMYM Foreshadowing-

So, as T kindly pointed out, there was no number six. I was aware of that at the time. That's all I really know about the reasoning behind the omission. Oh, get this- my mom seems to think I went to sleep at 2:30 last night, and that she would appreciate if I went to sleep earlier tonight... yeah, cause 2:30 was more like 5:00 and earlier tonight will be... well, earlier tonight. As in within the next hour. Which I think is pretty decent. Because T's decided to be a bum and go to sleep early because she has, sarcastic quote unquote, finals. Phhf. (Good Luck!! You'll do great :D) 

Anyhow, as I've already gushed to Breezy and Meredith about NPH and my hopeless addiction to him, Barney, and all things him and Barney, I'd like to say this:

In one of the first episodes of How I Met Your Mother, Ted talks about walking in on a goat in his apartment on his 30th birthday. He doesn't say anything more than that, other than we'll learn about it when the time comes.

Now, in my opinion there are two kinds of foreshadowing. Good kind and bad kind. The bad kind of foreshadowing is something like the 'monster' in Lost. Something that's made out to be so epic there's no way it can live up to its name. This goat is, in my opinion, the good kind. They haven't risen expectations beyond what they can possibly achieve- it's not mentioned with enough zeal and it's not mentioned frequently enough (although when it is mentioned, it's with a certain amount of ambiguity that makes it all the more intriguing). At this point, almost any explanation that involves a goat is something I'm going to love. And well... it's HIMYM. And The Barnacle. And NPH. 'nuff said. 

So, the conclusion of this little ramble is this. 

Go see "This is a Test" and "Actors Nightmare" at Bishop Carroll this week cause they'll make you laugh. 

... and also, HIMYM writers are the masters of foreshadowing.

Word.

Also- I love my friends. I have no idea why I deserve them, but I love them and they're there for me, and that's all I care about. 

Resolutions!

So I'm making a resolution to to post on this more often. I mean, why not? 

A couple things I want to get off my chest. 
1. Secrets
2. Carroll
3. Confusion on behalf of boys 
4. World Without End
5. Why the hell I’m up at four in the morning…
6. NPH. Cause he’s awesome.

Although probably not as candid as I want to be. Except for the last one. And the fourth one. But yeah. 

So!: 

1. Secrets. 

Keeping secrets sucks. It really, really does. There are relatively small secrets, like I’m coming back Thursday morning and in time to go to Bear’s birthday dinner! and there are huge secrets. I don’t have a lot of secrets. For the most part, if someone asks, really asks, I’ll tell them. There’s one I’ve told probably only three or four people. It’s not even that big of a secret- but it means a lot to me, and it’s mine to tell. It’s something very very personal and it’s shaped my outlook in life, it’s shaped my opinions on certain things.

One read it in the form of a religious reflection paper. 

One fell asleep during my admission, late at night under the stars. 

One listened while I was running a fever, a human furnace cuddled up in the couch. 

One I told in the daylight, face to face and candidly in conversation. 

The last made me nervous, all of them did, but the last was the first time I willfully lowered my guard, when I first saw the reaction- I’ve never been good in front of people and the admission had my heart pounding in my throat (which, by the way, is a contradiction to the word ‘candidly’). As I said, it’s not a big secret, it’s not relatively important. There’s probably one other person I would tell, if they so requested to know. I haven’t kept it from them in malice or embarrassment. There just hasn’t been a moment where it was appropriate. 

And the people I’ve told probably haven’t grasped its impact on me. Well, maybe the one who read the paper, for I did explain it quite eloquently; but I don’t think any one of them really understands how it makes me feel. I don’t know if I even know how it makes me feel.

I do appreciate those few being discreet about it. 

But I know everyone has a secret like that. It’s impossible not to. 

2. Carroll

My York friends make fun of me for going back. They say it’s time for me to move on, and can’t relate because they have no desire to return to their old schools. But what they don’t understand is that there’s good reason for me to go back. 

Granted, it is a little pathetic that the question, “Sandy, you did leave, didn’t you?” is warranted in response to teasing about me spending the night in the school, but still- can you blame me? 

After someone being such a big part of your life for three years, seeing him before school, during school, and after school for three hours each day- it’s weird that that person suddenly disappears. It doesn’t help that a good chunk of my friends still reside there. Friday was one of the most uplifting, ego-boosting days of my life. It feels good to be wanted. It feels good to see your friends after, in some cases, five months of phone conversations and disjointed facebook messages (I seem to have taken a likening to the word disjointed…)

I don’t regret going. Not one bit.

3. Confusion on behalf of boys.

Argh!!! Maybe my infatuation with NPH, and, you know, AP and, oddly, AR to a lesser degree now, has something to do with the fact they’re unobtainable. Seriously- Gay, Bi, Married- two kids. There’s not a lot of prospect for me in that little threesome. But that’s what I like. Cause at least with them, there won’t be any questions. 

4. World Without End – Ken Follett

Amazing book. I’m almost halfway through, but it’s just amazing. You’ve got Cris with her feminine drive, lusting for Merthin but unwilling to make the sacrifice of becoming his wife and therefore submitting to him in the traditional sense. Gwenda, her poor friend who pines after Wulfric, the handsome lad who loses his entire family, his inherited land and his fiancé (who he’s painfully in love with) just because he stood up to the bully Ralph, Merthin’s completely opposite brother. There’s Godwyn, embodying corruption and greed, going to unbelievable lengths to secure revenge, even at the harm of the greater good. Merthin, who becomes a builder and undergoes so many unjust breaks you want to hurl the book across the room. 

That’s the beauty in it, I think. Everything that can go wrong for the moral-valuing person, goes wrong. Then things start going right. Then they go wrong again, but they go right. I think it’s my innate desire for a happy ending that makes me want to keep reading. I’m not going to be satisfied until there is a happy ending- but if that’s the case, why do I like Dr. Horrible so much?

Dr. Horrible doesn’t have a happy ending, and yet it’s emotionally satisfying. The consumer in me is happy with the climax and conclusion of plot. You see Billy reverting to the online blog, which was once Horrible’s primary domain while the Horrible aspect of Billy’s personality begins to take over in day-to-day life. 

Here lies everything,
The world I wanted at my feet…

The irony of that line hits me hard every once in a while. Dr. Horrible’s got the world at his feet, and Billy Boy has what he perceives (perceived to be) his world to be lying, very literally, at his feet. Joss Whedon is brilliant, with his double edged lyrics and depressing love-story ending. 

Something inside me breaks whenever I hear Billy saying ‘a thing’ at the very end of the show. He’s become numb to the world, detached in an effort to save himself some torment. Billy boy has retreated inside of Dr. Horrible. 

It’s too late to analyze Dr. Horrible anymore… It’s brilliant, nuff said.  


5. It’s now quarter to five. I should be sleeping. I’m not. I want to write. 

“Mark, she noted, had a tendency to speak out in his sleep, his words often fragmented and rarely comprehensible, but audible. He seemed to have a natural impulse to please- whereas Collins moved about often in his sleep, but always adapted in the end, Mark would cement whatever part of himself Kat was touching, subconsciously leaving it independent while the rest of his body flailed and shifted. 

It was from this conclusion that she realized she’d gone almost the entire night without sleep; her body was weak and her mind was weighed down by a so-far lethargic mass of something. Her eyes felt static and it was almost like everything was experienced in a removed manner. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to concentrate. 

A hand was moved. She felt the hand move. She saw the hand move. The connection was made that ‘a hand’ was her hand. It was no longer one fluid motion but a series of disjointed jolts of happening; she realized this when it occurred to her to think about it.” 

See- I like it. The last paragraph doesn’t make sense, not much anyways, but no one cares. And that’s the point of it. It’s not supposed to make sense. 

Sleep deprivation does wonders for the muse- I didn’t write that right now, but I did write it a little before. 

But seriously… I should go to sleep… this is a long enough post… I’m really bent on the idea of writing less, more often. We’ll see how that goes…

P.S. Justin Johnston is going to be Angel for the America Rent tour. How fan-flippen-tastic is that?! 

Prop 8; Yes, -that- Prop 8

My love for NPH really knows no bounds... 

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

I've heard someone say that the people of California voted on this twice, with the same result both times. But seriously- I believe this isn't something that should be voted on. 

I once read a story about two gay men. One was self concious and very aware of the stigma same sex relationships has garnered from some people; granted this was set in the 1900s. But the important thing was that he did not believe he was "gay" or "queer"-

He was simply in love. 

Don't go away, I'm needy!

Give the gifts that mean the most this holiday season, 

not just the ones that cost a lot. 

 - - - - -

Because Christmas has become material, and that's the way that our society views it. But it doesn't have to be. I know there are some people out there that I have no idea what to get. Some people I can only thing of sentimental shit. Some people I can only think of material shit. Rest assure that there's some sort of meaning behind the stuff I'm giving out, but I'm going to try and not feel weighted down by the dollar signs. If some thing's expensive and I think you'd like it, I'll get it. If it's not quite as expensive as someone elses', oh well. 

Anyways, this was brought on 'cause I figured out the most kick-ass present for one of the most important people in my life who's so fricken hard to shop for. 

And on another note, but really, a directly related one- I saw a TY in this store today, and it was exactly the same as the huskey I own. Now, I love this dog. He/She is amazing. Don't let the fact that I don't know its gender or the fact it doesn't have a name mislead you. The night before Halloween I decided to drink more than enough, and as my friends were putting me to bed I apparently cried out for 'my doggie!', which I vaguely remember after my roommate told me the story. At night I either use it as a pillow or cuddle up with it, and in the mornings, when the sun is streaming in through the thread-thin curtians, it acts as a sleeping mask and covers my eyes. It goes absolutely everywhere with me. 

The huskey at the store was all new and plushy and looked nothing like my ratty, bedridden, deranged pup. But I like it that way. Cause if my friends handed me that pure-bred look-a-like I would've shoved it right back into their face (or started crying). My pup's mine because of the memories I have with it and what it means to me. It was bought originally for my friends birthday, but I decided to keep it for myself. I'm an amazing friend, aren't I? But seriously- that dog's mine and I love it even though it's made from the same stuff that that other dog shiny dog was, even though it came from the same factory and probably costs about the same.

My goal this Christmas? Give someone their own doggie.

P.S. I got the CD to [title of show] which is an amazing musical. It's about two guys who are writing a play about two guys writing a play. Hellz YEAH I love it! "Don't go away, I'm needy!" is currently my favorite line... 

Lifelines...

Sometimes something happens and you can't explain it...

... but sometimes you don't need to explain it for someone to understand.

 - - - - - 

Growing up sucks. Being your own person sucks. Making a decision sucks.

'specially when the choice is between what it is you want and what it is you should do. 

If you figure out the formula that'll give you the right answer, let me know. 

Freedom from Value?

Today I went to the Santa Clause Parade, which was awesome (although it started snowing near the beginning, and then turned into a mini blizzard, and then all the snow melted, so everyone was wet, and the wind was blowing so I think I might have a cold). But I couldn’t understand how half the things on the floats related to Christmas. It was cool, but still- a Pizza Pizza float? Really? Corporate sponsorship was repeated numerous times to me, and yeah, okay, I get that. But what is that saying about Christmas? And Santa Claus proclaiming the end of the parade that the fruits and veggies that could be bought from the store behind us were a preferred alternate to the cookies left out by little kids everywhere Christmas Eve wasn’t really the message about Christmas I was hoping for. The parade was fun- I bought four apples and some strawberries from said store and I saw a girl I played hockey with last year in the parade cheerleading, but it wasn’t fun because it was a Santa Parade. It was fun because it was a parade.

Also- yesterday I went to the Art Gallery of Ontario, hereinafter referred to as AGO, with Robbie. That was fun. It completely failed, and the planned day went horribly askew, but it was a lot of fun. I’m going to miss her. Which brings me to something that’s been bothering me for a little while.

What is it about today’s consumerist society that makes the every day person drop everything and run to anything that’s advertised as ‘free’?

Maybe ‘every day person’ is a bit of an overhaul- but you have to admit, free stuff attracts almost everyone. Who cares if you don’t actually need whatever it is that the promoters are promoting; it’s free! You’ll take it! 

Take for instance, the AGO. Now, I assume that on any given day no more than a hundred or so people pass through its doors to be wowed by the artistic experience it provides. Well, if we’re talking about the social experience and cultural awakening, the number drops dramatically into the single digits (note the bitterness; credit to FACS1900), but honestly, taking into account my complete lack of realistic statistics- all in all, not a lot. And yet there are people who will stand in line for hours on end to see the ‘grand reopening’ in a metaphoric monsoon, attracted to the AGO because of the simple fact that… there’s free admission. Why is there such an attraction to these types of things?

Yes, I do admit that I am one of those people. But I am also a poor student. Who is currently being fucked over by a TA strike. Free Toronto attractions are like what Bella is for Edward –although not quite the same because I, being Edward, would actually not be able to resist the ‘sweet smell’ and therefore devour Bella in a heartbeat, ending the series to the dismay of millions of fans and chiefly two of my three best friends… anyways… the point being, I have an excuse to be mindlessly attracted to anything free. I’m looking for experience. I’m looking for new things. I’m looking for anything that’ll occupy my mind for no more than a two-way bus fare, and kudos if I can find something for less than that. Goshdarn, I’m looking for culture! (in the not FACS1900 way)... (damn course)…

Okay, yes, there are people out there who do not grasp at any materialistic thing without a price tag attached. Yes, I know those kinds of people. No, I am not one of those people. Why is there a difference between these kinds of people?

Is it because everything materialistic in our society has been assigned monetary value, and those without one are perceived by consumers to have more other-kind-of value? And let’s move past the obvious answer and actually think about that. Do it. Honestly. Because that’s where I get stuck. 

Let’s imagine a paper towel product, one free and one bought. Both perform the same function. Both cost the same for the supplier to make. They are interchangeable, one the same to you as the other.

But is the one that you paid for more valuable to you, or the one that you did not pay for? There isn’t a set answer; it’s just something to think about. And when you have your answer, ask yourself why that is. Move past the obvious- the sentimental: because I worked for the money to buy it, or the monetary: because I still have the money I would have used to buy it, and have therefore actually made money off it in an odd, odd way. What about that product makes it more or less valuable to you?

Even past the materialistic sense of value- Loyalty has value. Friendship has value. Trust has value. Love has value. Independence has value. Memory has value, opportunity, judgment, human rights, dissent; all of these things have value. Some of these even, in the right situations, have a price tag attached… 

And all of these things are free… 

So what makes one thing more valuable than the other, when there is no assigned value? If someone is loyal, but does not love you, is that person more to you than someone who loves you but is not loyal?

Is there one that obviously has more value than the other? Or is value completely subjective? Completely objective? Why do we even judge things in terms of 'value' and 'unvaluable'? Why not judge in the realistic sense? Is there something that has no value whatsoever? But then how can something be judged in relation to value and not have value?  I don’t know. I applaud those who do. Who really, really, truly, deeply do…

Inherently Lonely

So I was looking for something profound and uplifting to title this thing... Thanks T, by the way, for this wonderful gadget of communication ;) 

Anyhow, onto the subject of the title. Because as you can tell, Inherently Lonely isn't very good or uplifting at all. Actually, it can be seen as a tad bit depressing... and I guess it is. At first I was listening to song lyrics, trying vainly to figure what the hell would be a appropriate title. The Cutting Room Floor came up (Rent, to anyone who knows me and knows the musical) but thankfully that was taken. I realized that I didn't want to take anything from a song. I've written before, and I figured that if I couldn't come up with anything, than you know what? maybe I should just wait until I had a good name. So I waited. 

And waited...

And five minutes later I had Inherently Lonely. 

Now here's the thing about that. No, I'm not depressed. Yes, I'm doing okay. Yes I am happy, as happy as I can be with a strike and thousands of miles separating us. Thanks for the worry, which is there if I've correctly judged one or two of you. 

Something that always comes to mind when I think about my decision to leave Calgary is sitting at Southland station waiting for the train with Tiff, talking about our futures. Not our future futures but like, what to do after high school. I knew I was going to get out. I knew that moment in Grade 10, waiting for the Southbound, that I was going to get out. And I knew in that process that I was going to lose some very good friends. And I did. But you know what? I also made some great ones. Not the one's I've met here (although I am getting closer to someone I've always wanted to know better), but the ones I left behind. -please ignore the melodrama that comes with a line like 'I left behind'- They know who they are. And I'm not trying to guilt anyone. But seriously; not being around them has shown me how obvious their absence is. Not because I walk around every moment wishing I was back home, but because someone will say something, someone will assume something and remind me what I had. The connections and stories I've shared with people. Sometimes I just can't deal with the glaring reality that people don't know me. That they haven't taken the time to get to know me.

That maybe, just maybe, I don't want to share myself with these people. I need to hole up in my room and write, or text, or talk on the phone with those people that I do want to. 

So what it all boils down to is this. 

Independence, I've found, is inherently lonely. There's some characteristic of the word, some definition of it and its meaning to us as a human race in the broad spectrum, and me in a much, much narrower one, that indicates, and in fact requires, a type of isolation. Of course the obvious- wanting to be self-sufficent and alone gets you... well, alone. But more than that, wanting to become your own person, finding out who you really are to yourself- you have to do that alone. I'm a firm believer that who you are is who you hang out with. But who am I when I'm not hanging out with the same people? Of course my memories and their influences affect what I do and say and think, but am I capable of being the same person without seeing them constantly? Do I have the will to disprove my own theory and keep what made me, me, comparitively intact? I hope so. I really, really hope so. 

Someone can tell you, 'don't put metal in the electric socket', but you do it anyways. And it hurts. A lot. 

But you know what doesn't hurt? 

Coming home. 

So I titled the blog Inherently Lonely, not only because I think it'll make a killer song lyric, but because it sums up my life at the moment. Whatever the hell drove me to attending York at Toronto, be it independence, apsiration or stupidity- whatever the force may be; that, my friends, is inherently lonely.