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This is my adopted goth fetus named "Cringe". Hooray fetus!
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| So....Tired |
| 02.27.06 (9:54 pm) [edit] |
I'm waaay too tired to blog about stuff tonight. I'll try again tomorrow after I've written my exams and stuff.
Who knows? Maybe something crazy will happen to me.
D'ya think?
How could SNEEVIL spend the afternoon in a chemistry lab and NOT have something interesting happen?
In Stereo
http://www.m90.org/index.php?...
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| Annual rantings |
| 02.27.06 (6:33 am) [edit] |
Perhaps it is an annual thing, but I once again feel the need to mention this.
I do write some things in this blog which take people out of their comfort zones. Occasionally, I get called names and belittled by people who are of the oppinion that somehow, the way they see the world is the right way and the way I see it is completely and utterly wrong.
Believe it or not, I actually don't have a problem with this. My problem rears its ugly head when people are cowardly enough to inject a short-sighted and low-brow remark without feeling the need to justify or explain it in any intelligent fashion, after which, they flit off into cyberspace feeling that they put me in my place.
My ramblings on this blog are my own. They are my ideas, fears, reasonings and what have you. I have every right to have them, and they are not intended to preach the word or try to sway anyone into my corner. They are meant to provoke intelligent thought and question the motives surrounding why people behave the way they do.
When I present my ideas, I do not intend to declare them to be true to the world. But they are true to me, and when they are put into this page, I attempt to explain them in the best way that I can. I would expect the same consideration when reading your comments, should you feel the need to make them.
I am open to suggestions and feedback of a constructive sort. It helps me put thoughts that are sometimes muddied into better perspective. I know that there is something here that concerns me, but often cannot fully articulate it. The result can be a somewhat clumsy attempt at a rant.
"This is just sad.", unfortunately just doesn't cut it for me. Why is it sad? Tell me, 'cause I value your view on it. If you care enough about it to comment on it, you can care enough about it to prove me wrong. Because, often in your narrow and offending comment, you are only proving me right.
It is sad...I agree. It really is. Now explain yourself. What is sad? The fact that I actually think about things? What kind of person goes through life without engaging in deep thought about norms, actions, consequences and obligations?
I would say that it is the same kind of person who would liquidate a forest without worrying about the future, the land, or the other people living on this planet. The same kind of person who thinks that the World Trade Organization isn't actually creating poverty, because they just believe whatever they've been spoon-fed by the politicians. The kind of person who is too lazy to figure out what is really going on in the world and chooses to ignore the obvious in order to confirm his own concepts of it. The kind of person who chooses not to see that homeless person begging for money on a street corner in February, but will see fit to help them on Christmas Eve, and feels self-righteous for it.
So, your comment is actually worse than saying nothing at all. All it does is state that you believe something and don't know why. You think that I should believe what you believe but you can't justify or explain it. I can almost detect your fear and unwillingness to contribute useful information, if you can explain it and choose not to. There is no right and no wrong. Life doesn't come with an instruction manual, and human kind has had to try to figure it out on our own. How could likely is it, that everything we think is right, actually is?
So lets take a deep breath, and rationalize things a little before coming to snap judgements without any backup. If you can't do that, then you have no business reading this blog and should have heeded the warning.
SNEEVIL
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| Do I know you? |
| 02.26.06 (5:57 pm) [edit] |
Who are you?
Do you think I really know? Exactly how much information do I have about you? Whether I like you or not does'n matter. I might say that I like "you", but what is really going on is, I like what has been presented to me...nothing more. This brings me back to the issue of love.
I am not saying that it is impossible to love. I suppose we might go right to the root of defining the word "Love" itself.
"A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship, recognition of attractive qualities, or a sense of underlying oneness."
I guess I should clarify, before I get going here...I am NOT questioning my love for my child. I KNOW that I love my child with a fierceness that cannot be matched. I KNOW my daughter. I see her every day. She does not offer pretenses toward me. She is what she is, and the love I have for her is unconditional. It is when we get older and learn to decieve that this discussion comes into play. I believe that once that happens, some mothers do not love thier children. Likewise, some children do not love their mothers. I know this first hand.
So, JIM...if that is indeed your real name. Or should I call you JIMMY? James, perhaps? I have a right to my oppinion without your injecting your dumbassedness. So, unless you can back up your insulting comments with something intelligent, I will just delete them and you can find someone else to bully.
BEEEEOTCH!!
Continuing...
No matter how well you think you know someone (except your children, JIM!!), can you ever really know them well enough to love them? How can one truly love what one does not know? And how can one accept that declaration as true, while understanding that they are not really known?
So then, the words "I love you" become only a token, intended to make a person feel known and less alone. But how many of us blindly accept this potential falsity without giving it any real thought? (Evidently, JIMMY does!) How many of us recognize it for what could be and refuse to be deluded by it? How many might actually feel badly about being told that they are loved? Because deep down, you know that the person saying these words doesn't really know you, and therefore the words "I love you" are now meaningless for you. Perhaps you might even realize the hypocrisy in your reply when you say it back, if you should choose to, or feel obligated to do so.
So what does this do to the psyche of the person who has dwelt on this issue and realized the possibility that no one can truly love another, because no one can ever really, truly know another?
How does a wife-beater feel to have another person honestly believe that he is a gentle person? How does a murderer, who got away with it feel, when someone tells him that he has a good heart? Disbelief. Distrust. Guilt. Discomfort. Anger, perhaps? Perhaps he might do something to reaffirm his self concept and attempt to guide you to the correct conclusion.
The perceptions of people around them do not confirm their own identity, and therefore cause anxiety.
How can you trust the judgement of someone who sees you as someone that you know you are not? But then, there are other forms of love.
For example, I love ice cream. But ice cream is not holding any secrets that I don't know about...or does it? What if I were to find out that ice cream contained arsenic as a secret ingredient and the company responsible hid it from the world? Well then, I would feel pretty betrayed and distrustful of ice cream in the future. Then I realize that, the whole time, I loved what ice cream presented to me...what I knew of it at the time. Can you trust, then, that you ever really truly loved ice cream? Or did you just enjoy the taste?
How is a person supposed to feel when they are told that they are loved by someone who has only met them a few months ago? Should you just trust that they do love you, even though all they know of you is what you've chosen to show them?
Perhaps it is unwise to realize that no matter how well you are known by others, we all still have our secrets; and no matter how many others we surround ourselves with; no matter how many people declare their love for us, we are ultimately alone.
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| New STUDY!! |
| 02.25.06 (12:24 pm) [edit] |
Isn't that wonderful??
So, I read today that the Liquor and Gaming Commission has hired an independent researcher to see if reducing the number of VLTs in the province will help address problem gambling.
Okay, so how many people think that this will be an accurate and legitimate study depicting the results in a truthful and unbiased way?
It's wonderful if you've got your hand up! Solidarity and confidence in our government's ability to look after their own communities is truly admirable in this day and age.
Now if you wouldn't mind bending over to pick up that loonie that I've strategically placed on the floor in front of me, I'll proceed to lose my shoe up your ass. Schmucks.
Here's how it works. The Liquor and Gaming Commission gets rich off the poor fools who lose their shirts on them stinking VLTs. That's why they're there in the first placd. DUH!
Taking them out means that they get....LESS MONEY!!! I know, it takes some time to wrap one's head around this.
So, IF the independent researcher that they've hired has enough balls to actually give these gold diggers the truthful findings...who says that the organization funding the research can't omit, obsure or otherwise modify those findings to suit their own financial needs, thereby ensuring the continued cash flow into their already bottomless pockets.
Lets just take a step back now. Think about this. Do you think that if there were no cigarettes on the market for public sale, that the incidence of lung cancer might decline? I mean, if these things weren't so readily available to anyone who might be addicted to them, would we have less smokers? Do you think that maybe less people would start? Maybe more people would try to quit? Maybe?
Similarily...if there were no VLTs, do you think it might just curb a problem?
Fuck.
What the hell is the matter with politicians today? Do they think we're stupid? This is just a light show put on by them to make us feel better. And once they provide their irrefutable proof ('cause they'll never fund another study on this in the future), no one will question it. It's a stinking token to shut people up.
The same thing happened with SGI, when they hired their "Independent Researcher" to study what goes on with no-fault insurance. Where did that go? Did YOU get the results? 'cause I sure as hell didn't. No-fault is stupid...but you'd never know that.
GAH!!!
I have to go cook some meat and then tear it apart with my teeth and mash it into mush and swallow it and stuff now.
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| I love my friends |
| 02.25.06 (6:48 am) [edit] |
I caught myself on video tape at my daughter's birthday, and I was shocked to see myself. See, when I look in the mirror...I think I look pretty good. But when I saw myself filtered through a video camera...well my jaw hit the floor and I resolved to lose twenty pounds.
Consequently, I've been really watching what I eat and monitoring my caloric intake very closely. It's paid off so far...but I crave something sweet!!!
So I'm sitting on the phone with one of my best friends last night, telling her how my body is going into some kind of sugar deprivation shock. Not really whining...but it was close.
Twenty minutes later, she shows up on my doorstep with an extra large some kind of fattening coffee with whipped cream in it, and a little box of the best tasting timbits on the planet!!!
It is a true friend who can see through your heroic attempts to be strong and give you permission to indulge...just a little.
Thanks SWEETIE!!! HUGS!
SNEEVIL
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| The Credit Union |
| 02.24.06 (10:10 pm) [edit] |
I went to the bank today. It is pay day.
I brought forth my pay cheque from a legitemate business, from a legitemate and reputable bank in the USA. I was thinking how nice it will be to be able to pay my mortgage, while waiting in line.
I took the opportunity to look around at the ordered chaos that this bank was currently in. It seems that some renovations were on the go, and though the wickets seemed to be the only thing not undergoing some sort of transformation, their pristine presence was somehow out of place.
I patiently waited, quietly ammused by the blurred silhouettes that I was able to observe behind a giant wall of transparent plastic. One rather portly man...well, maybe a little larger than portly was working near a large yellow ladder. I was musing at the different sizes that people come in, as well as entertaining various other flippant thougts.
Finally, the lady who was somehow managing to look too busy to help me, asked me to step forward. I did so with a friendly, confident smile, which I was positive would ensure me a more pleasant experience than the one I had last time, when I got belittled by the male teller that was currently working at the next wicket. For my efforts, I was immediately rewarded a bored expression held in a pair of the most frigid blue eyes I've ever seen.
I handed over my cheque and asked politely if I could cash it. She asked for my account number, which (of course) I don't know by heart since it is a new account, and not my primary bank at that. Regardless, as the sassy male teller had informed me on that previous occasion, 98% of all clients know that number by heart, and therefore I am apparantly such a burden to them that I get rolling eyes every time without fail when I tell them I don't know it. I handed over my bank card so that she could look up the information that she needs.
Abruptly, the frosty blonde stands up and leaves, cheque in hand. So I stand there, staring at the bank of video cameras that are pointed directly at me. Tapping my fingers and trying to look unconcerned, my palms were sweating. I thought that this must be how a bank robber might feel while trying to look easy and confident while panicking inside.
Then...my fears were realized. "We can't cash this." she says to me. "Because you have a new account and it's a US cheque, we'll have to send it to collections and it might take up to a month to get back."
WELL!! I stood up straight and drew in a deeeep breath. Then I breathed fire right into that ice queen's face, melting her instantly into a goopy puddle of human slop. I then tore off my friendly, confident smile and revealed my twisted sneer of anger and frustration. I gave that manager a whole new kind of smile. One she could really interpret, if you know what I mean. After I had taken care of the snotty male teller in a most inventive and fun way, I turned to the plastic wall and the people working like little doozers behind it. I had time to imagine what was going through their minds as they stood there, mesmerized by the foggy, blurry spectacle that was unfolding on the other side of that sheet. For some reason, I really liked these guys. They were no big thing. They were just poor ole workin' guys, just like me. They didn't pretend they were the shit. They didn't dish out egocentric attitude to those who were paying their wages. They are just doing the best they can to earn an honest living...trying to scratch out the best living they could. Just like me. I reached through a hole that had somehow materialized during the episode, and gently poked the big man's belly button, murmering "tickie tickie tickie!!".
But I didn't stop there...oh no. When I set up this account, I was told that there would be NO HOLDS!! NO PROBLEMS!!! LIES! So, I decided to go see the lady responsible for this fiction. A Gareau...yes. One of my own.
She greeted me with a nervous smile. And I smiled back. "I'm having a rather negative experience here at your bank." I told her calmly. "I'm not really very happy." She then proceeded to EXPLAIN it to me. I listened to this for a while, but in the back of my mind, I was wondering what would happen if....
Once she had a new orifice, she agreed to cash my cheque and sent me on my way.
Gawd...the world would be so much less messy if people would just quit fuckin' with me.
SNEEVIL
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| Back at 'er. |
| 02.20.06 (10:37 am) [edit] |
Yup, it's Monday. I can tell because I feel like turning off the world and sleeping for another couple of hours.
I'm such a jam tart.
Anyhow, we had a good weekend. I took Leah to the monster trucks on Saturday night. We met our cousins there. We put the kids on a monster truck ride...very cool. It's so cool to be able to do that for her. We never got anything like that when we were kids. It was too expensive, claimed my mom while she filled the tank in her brand new car.
Anyhow...the highlight of the evening (for me, anyhow) was the modified lawnmower races. During the second heat, they had a guy who rigged up a push mower. Funniest thing EVER!!!. He had a seat on a pole and had rigged up a steering wheel. It even still had the bag on it...hehehe! He did pretty well for speed too!
Afterward, we got the kids' pendant flags signed by all the drivers while we waited for the parking lot to empty out. It was very much fun.
Sunday, we went to the Mendel and Leah got to do some crafts and stuff. She made this whole intricate plastercene landscape with a guy catchin a giant fish. It's pretty cool, the stuff they have for the kids on Sundays. I was impressed. I think we might start frequenting that place on the weekends.
So, now that I've wheedled away my February break, I guess it's time to buckle down.
Have a great week, all!!
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| GAH!! |
| 02.18.06 (11:55 pm) [edit] |
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So, I'm sitting here at my kitchen table, going through the news of the day, when I notice my cat prowling one corner of the house by the cupboards. So, I moved her food and water out of the way so I could see. The old linolium has rolled up under the edge of the cupboard and there is ample place for something to hide in there.
Anyhow, I'm watching my cat. She never does this unless there is a bug or something that she's chasing. So, I get down to her level...sweep the broom under there as best I can, grab a can of OFF ('cause I'm outa Raid), and watch.
There I was, lying flat on my belly in the middle of the kitchen at 1:00 am, when I hear a very faint squeaking noise. "Oh crap", I thought. "It's a mouse."
So I ran the broom over again a little more thoroughly, watching for anything that might scurry. Nothing.
The fact that that stupid linolium is blocking my view drives me crazy, so I grab an exacto-knife and start hacking away at it.
After careful inspection of all fluffies that I come across, I decide the critter has moved on. I empty my cupboards in search of any evidence of mice, but find nothing.
Finally I stand, resigned to failure for tonight and resolving to find the rodent in the morning. But first, a peanut butter and banana sandwich!!
So I'm standing there with a peanut butter laden knife in my hand and waiting patiently for my toast to pop, when I hear that squeaking again. Right in front of me.
I look down only to see my coffee carafe sitting on the counter. I picked it up and shook it a tiny bit, and what did it do?
It squeaked like a mouse.
I opened it up and emptied the luke-warm contents into the sink and waited. Miraculously, there was no more noise.
Gee...wish I'd discovered that BEFORE I tore up my kitchen floor.
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| Settled down? Naw. |
| 02.18.06 (1:03 pm) [edit] |
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So, for a while, it seemed as though I was settling nicely into a routine. But, everyone who knows me knows that my life is never routine.
I've had trouble with student loans, they've effectively cut me off of funding so I'm living off whatever I can scrounge up work-wise. Not cool, but at least I have SOMETHING. I think if I'm careful, I'll be okay until summer time. But strangely, I'm not really very stressed about it. I've fought with them idiots before and made myself sick over it. I guess I'm not willing to put myself through that again...so I cope.
I have new friends in my life...well recently, one particularily good friend...hehehe. A rather nice valentines day for a couple of people who don't care much for the holiday. I won't say too much more about that. I wasn't really looking anyhow...but you know how stuff just "happens" to me.
So, all in all, my world is still evolving in an incredibly swift way, and though nothing is under my control...it's all good just the same.
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IS FEELING...
Cost of the War in Iraq
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How to cook an alien
Mom stuff
Suppressed Inventions
Memory Hole (What they don't want you to know)
NINJAS
The Sneeze
One Stop Shopping
Babes, Broads 'N' Bitches
Another essay by PETER
PETER strikes again
PETER goes to hell
PETER'S best work
Original by JEREMY
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