Dafuq

On Garbage

So I’ve decided to finally finish and edit my novel from NaNoWriMo. Just…

It’s complete garbage.

I didn’t make it 5 words before finding something I disliked, and wanted to vehemently cross out in bright red ink, like slashing a terrible monster or the like. It’s my worst nightmare come true, it’s 87 pages long single spaced, and I would rather print it off to experience the catharsis of burning that piece of $%#^.

10 year old kids can write better than this absolute tripe. It’s like watching a car with a bent wheel try to move, only to have the one side of the car lift and fall like some shambling Igor.

The bonus here is that, at the very least, I can tell it’s garbage.

It’s also telling that writing this abomination took a month, and after having spent months teaching others how to write basic forms of stories in a variety of uninteresting and curriculum mandated ways, I can look back on this thing and tell that it would take much, much longer to edit. Multiple months, to be sure. Five, if I had to guess.

Hulking is not a descriptor I would use for most novellas, but the one I wrote has earned it. Not because of deep, heavy hitting content. It’s also a novella, so not size. No, the hulking bulk comes from the pedantic, terrible pacing and ridiculous attempts at tension by focusing on the wrong parts of the story.

Focus on character would have been much better than focus on environmental factors. I was trying to write a video game, but it’s worse than that because video games present and environment for a player to interpret, and this story rams it down the reader’s throats.

Not to mention all the ‘edgy’ gore, the attempts at horror, action best described as a play by play on a football monitor. Clunky doesn’t begin to cover it, like a blanket for someone who is several inches longer than the motel bed.

There is much work to be done; if it can be salvaged at all. My Dad always could find uses for good quality trash; just the other day, while he was visiting, Dad picked out several doors, hooks, and shelving units that others had thrown out. To him, these items were still useful, helpful.

Some things, though, are just trash.

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Bedridden

monster bedIt’s a shit job, to be sure. You lie down, wait, and wait some more. You sleep sometimes, and that’s a help ’cause the time goes by faster. Still, you can wait a long time before anything interesting happens; in fact, the last time I had anything to do, clocks still made a ticking noise. Now, they just murmur with a small, almost impossible hum as their circuits flare at almost impossible speeds.

When the job’s good though, it’s real good. Nothing better than a job well done. You’re lying there when, for the first time in years, something lands on top of your bed. Then you go through the steps.

First step, wait until night. Has to be nice and dark, otherwise they’ll not see you coming.

Second step, slowly check to see who’s in the bed. This time, it’s a child; 5 years old, no older. This doesn’t happen all the time. If you get someone that’s older than 11, usually it’s no good and you go back and wait some more. I mean, you could try to go to the next step but most times you’ll be wasting your energy. Still, the boy’s 5, and we’ve got a catch.

Step 3, and watch carefully now, you gently grab the kid. If they’re too old, they won’t see you; which means you can’t do anything. Monsters can only be felt if they’re seen, and can only be heard if they’re thought of. Didn’t your parents teach you anything?

So once you’ve grabbed the little thing, you just gotta… there we go, yank them underneath the bed. Our job was easy this time; the bed didn’t have bars at the foot of the bed. We didn’t have to pull the bastard through the bars; I had to do that once, was cleaning the stains off the underside of the bed for a week!

Once you got the kid here, it’s easy pickings, easy to prepare. We’ve got claws after all, and they should be sharp.

You can always sharpen them some more while you’re waiting for the next one.

Well that was a surprise

OHSHIT

I will not lie when I tell you the following:

I had COMPLETELY forgotten two things. First, that this blog pressed to Twitter; second, that this blog subsequently pressed to Facebook and my Tumblr. As a result, I totally typed a post that was about as emo as a sad clown convention and it was posted to the world.

Smooth moves, Ahab.

Initially this discovery was followed by fear. “OH NO MY VIEWERS CAN SEE MY EMO SIDE” I thought. “THEY SEE MY WEAKNESS.” My thought process came to the conclusion that this was about as awful as it could get, and so I tried to delete any and all traces of my emo-tastic shame, the same way that most people try to mop up a murder. Needless to say, it had about the same results, which means to say, none at all save for a lot of guilty looks coming from my general direction.

But hilariously enough, the post got more views than some of my videos. In the space of about 4 minutes. That is both sad and amazing, since I feel I put a lot of effort into entertaining in my videos, and that post was meant to be a whiny bitch, and despite that got more exposure.

I figure I might as well keep writing then, occasionally, whenever I’m feeling offbeat or sad about something in real life. If you haven’t noticed, I’m about as natural in front of a camera as most people are trying to conduct an interview, which means to say that I feel like there is an actual level of perfection that needs to be achieved. When I write, I tend to flow out onto the page, and so a very different image results from it.

If you are curious to see that image, who am I to stop you? SlowWolf? Bah, not enough e-fame to do any ordering around anyway.

Welcome to my personal blog. I hope you enjoy your stay, however brief, even it’s less than a second or so. Seriously. It’s okay for you to just… wander away and surf elsewhere. Might I suggest my YouTube channel?

-Phil

5 Reasons Why Looking for Work Sucks

For many students like myself, the eternal struggle with money is a rough one. Some people somehow have 3 jobs and go to school, while still maintaining a decent academic average and a social life. To those people, please, for the love of anything you hold dear, please hand me some of that ambrosia.

For everyone else, there’s the struggle to find the one or two jobs the ambrosia fuelled super-people didn’t get. And that fight is anything but honourable. In fact, it really, really sucks.

1. It takes the same amount of time as an actual job. Seriously. I’ve spent 40 hours a week looking for a job in some way, shape, or form. In that time, I’ve printed enough resumes and cover letters to make Paul Bunyan look like an environmentalist. I’ve made the epic and long puzzle chains in the Zelda series look like a walk to the grocery store, except I keep trading the same shit to different people and they keep giving me nothing for it. What’s up with that?

I understand this man’s rage on a primal level.

2. They don’t want you. How many times has someone told me that “we’re not hiring right now, but we’ll put you on file”? If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been told that, I wouldn’t need a job. Besides, we know what put on file really means, pal. I’ve seen that same treatment for old Yeller. “You’re a good dog, but the position has been filled.”

Not only can he be a dog, but he can be a horse too! Two for one!

Shoot me.

3. You feel like crap. It’s one thing to be told once or twice that you aren’t needed or hiring material. It’s another thing when the entire district seems to do it. It’s hard not to take it personally: I’m being told that I’m not needed or wanted at least 10 times a day, or I’m put through so many bureaucratic hoops that, had it not been done online, I would look like this.

… Okay, maybe not; but I digress.

4. Your friends with jobs. Oh, do you have a job yet? No? Oh that sucks. Meanwhile, I’ll just spend the next thirty to forty minutes to tell you about how much my job sucks and how I wish I didn’t have it, except I really need the money. Really badly. Otherwise, you know, I’d give it to you!

Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!

5. Your parents. No guys, I’m definitely not looking for work. These resumes? It’s a hobby. The nice pants I got just in case I get an interview? Luxury. The fancy see through binder that everyone thinks looks professional? Vanity. The long walks I do during the middle of the day for about three to four hours? Blasphemy!

So yeah, seriously, I’m not looking for work at all guys. I’m just doing all that shit so I can tell my friends how jobless I am. It really makes my day.

5 Minute Short Story: Incredulous

She stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind blowing behind her. It threatened to blow of her off the edge, but she didn’t care. She simply looked out, over the sea that lay before her.

Her black hair flew past her, her navy blue dress flapping around uncontrollably. Just what did she see?

She remembered seeing a seagull. That much was definitely true. The seagull was prepping to jump off the cliff and fly away. Not unbelievable. But when she swore she saw a leprechaun run past her screaming “IM NOT LATE FOR THE FLIGHT!” she just about lost it.

She stared incredulously after the seagull with its crazy passenger. There had to be a good reason for this, one that made sense. And she just could not think of it.

5 Minute Short Story: Lost Man and a Fish

He got lost.

And oh boy was he LOST. Just looking around the area, there was no way he wasn’t completely and astoudingly bereft of direction.

He stood at the corner of a street full of colourful clown, each with a bright red nose, multicoloured hair, and many multitudes of horns, prank flowers, and bowling pins being thrown around like money in a mall. The buildings were charming, small and brick with little windows and vitrines choc full of the latest goodies.

He had one thought though, and that it was he was lost. Where did the clowns come from? Who knows, they probably belong there; but that was the difference. He didn’t.

All of a sudden, a large fish flips its way over to him, and asks him if he can spare some change. Well, not to a fish no! He didn’t have any sand dollars. The fish took this news bitterly, however. The fish splashed angrily, but it had no effect.

He then woke up. What a strange dream, he thought, I could have sworn I was going to punch a fish.

The man, now aware that he was in bed, then promptly passed out once more.

Top Ten Reasons Why Moving In After Frat Boyz Sucks

VIKINGS DO NOT CLEAN

Just today (at the time of this writing, which is May 1st/2nd) we moved out of our old house, my friends and I. Our house, A.K.A the Castle, was a great place: but due to whatever reasons we decided to, we moved out into this new place.

This place was nearby, and was well known as an establishment for rockin’ keggers, the kind people actually paid money to get into. It was that house in the neighbourhood, and still we moved in.

Every experience is a learning experience. I learned that moving into a house like that was a $&$#ing terrible ordeal, and that, in short, sucked.

1. Moving sucks. Period. It could be for any number of reasons, like the fact you’re leaving your home behind, good memories, you’re being forced to by the mob, it’s being done at gunpoint, but basically because MOVING REALLY SUCKS.

If you’re moving at all, I hope you have a damn good reason.

2. They don’t know what a mouse is. Or how to find and get rid of one, for that matter. I’d like to say that the cupboards were spotless when we found them, but what really happened was the horrible smell of bleached mouse crap. It was inspiring… it really motivated me to kill it with fire.

3. There was a ceiling? Really? Cause I had no idea before I decided the music was so awesome I’d punch the ceiling. Now I’ve left my mark on something! I can die happy.

And he might.

4. And that reminds me there’s a wall… Cause I had forgotten that the walls aren’t made of Unobtanium and as a result might chip and break if I punch it with my fist.

Oh well, I think it adds character, don’t you?

5. Tape is for &$##*(@, You don’t use tape in a manly house to put up posters and such, no. Also, you can’t just use the built in closet, ’cause that’s for sissies. You want posters? NAILS IN THE PLASTER. You want a shelving unit? UP ON THE WALL, USE A BOLT GUN.

Oh, thanks frat guy. It looks awesome. My room could be a ^$#*ing CHAPEL because it’s so HOLY. I was thinking of installing some holes anyway. I’m glad you made up my mind. It spells class. In moderately sized holes.

6. I’m too lazy to take off my shoes. So, instead of taking them off and keeping the hardwood floor safe to walk on in socks, you’re going to stamp the dirt so hard into the floor that the wood goes from cedar to ebony eh? It matches the curtains you left me. Thanks. Oh, and now the tiles in the kitchen don’t slip? That’s good, I’ll be sure to walk around bare foot on the dust encrusted tiles so I don’t slip and break my neck.

Besides, I’d rather have foot fungus anyway.

7. Loving the long showers. And it’s kinda obvious. The grout at the base of the shower is gone. Arrividerci, great grout, sayonara. Au revoir. You’re now gonzo, bereft of existence you now litter my bathroom floor. If you didn’t provide an entrance hazard for rodents you’d be useless to everybody. The grout has now joined the garbage disposal, a malignant memory on a forgotten parquet. The grout is no more.

However, your hair is quite spiky. I approve.

8. Everything is a sticker surface, and double sided tape is a statement. I gotta admit, even I was impressed when I found a picture of Jesus made out of errand strands of double sided tape littering the inside of my new closet space, interspersed with irremovable tears of stickers. I called up the Pope to check it was a miracle!

I got an answer. Turns out it’s just an idiot who decided to sticker up the house with YOUNG AND RECKLESS. It’s a badass older version of YOLO right? Right?

What’s that smell? Oh, it’s angst stickers.

9. We decided we wanted a petting zoo. So we bred dust bunnies in such large quantities that it required not one, but two professional cleaning crews to actually round them up once we left. It was like hunting for diabolic and disgusting easter eggs.

They were big enough to kill a grown man. I named one Caernabog. It had sharp, pointy teeth, and required that we use our last remaining holy hand grenade.

10. I heard you like booze. So we boozed up your floor, we boozed up your wall, hell! We boozed up your ceiling. We knew that, upon entering the house, you would love to mop the floor AND the walls too! Also, I hope you don’t mind that we used the wine to make it look someone had been brutally murdered on the spot.

Fluidity in Life

Relationships are fluid.

Tonight, I went and celebrated the proper opening night of Todd’s show. Tonight was the advertised opening night, free for a fee to the public. Since I went last night to the private free show, I made sure to spend tonight relaxing and getting ready for his big cast party.

The cast parties are something we’ve always shared. It’s a party held on opening night of a play, used to show the accolades of the cast and crew of the show, and then drink copious amounts of booze and dance drunkenly with everyone. Back in first year, when Todd was just scratching the surface of these shows, he’d come to show his support for the upper years. Not only that, but it was a good excuse for me to go out once in awhile when I wasn’t shackled to my computer talking to Lorelai on screen. The tradition continued, with Todd and a number of other friends going out to enjoy a few beers, and dance the night away to awful music.

The past couple of times have seemed different, however. See, it’s been 4 years already. 4 years that were far too long, and way too short too. Time slogged past me it seemed, but in reality it was flying. And here was Todd, once a first year dramatic arts student, now a trained actor. He climbed to the top of his class, where so many had failed. Tonight was his night, the opening night of the most virtuosic work he had done to date. He was the lead in a 2 hour long show, where he was present in every scene and decided the fate of the play. He did excellently, and tonight was his &%$#ing night to SHINE.

I got to the cast party right on time; just as I entered, the whole stream of cast and crew rampage forth from the side door, whooping and calling, blowing bubbles and blowing kisses. The speeches were loud, emphatic. Full of energy. Nothing could go wrong tonight, no sir.

There was a big difference in how it all worked out. Todd was the life of the party now: he was the lead. He was a King for a day, a dream for so many people, or a distant truth from a long time ago for most. He was lording in it, loving it, and making sure that tonight was the best damn cast party he ever had, as it was truly his last within that setting. He had every reason to “max it up” as it were.

Here I was, however, sitting in the corner, nursing my pint of Keith’s (which was watery, funny enough. Maybe it’s because I’ve been drinking Okanagan beer so much lately) and feeling… resentful?

No, that wasn’t it. Todd obviously is my friend. I’m not going to be resentful of his shining moment. I was sad though, and it took me a while of sitting and drinking to figure it out.

Every good friendship has a core. That core is unshakable, and once founded is really hard to break. That’s why people can be friend over massive distances for huge spans of time. It’s essential to every good friendship; however, there is more. Around that core is a fluffy layer of contemporary thought, A.K.A shit that’s going on right now. Friends who hang out a lot have a lot of that fluffy part, whereas friends who are far apart have only the core holding themselves tethered to one another. It’s not that this is necessarily a bad thing, but it does happen.

I could feel it happening. The fluff? It was going or already gone in a sense. Things were already different. Todd was celebrating his time alright, but it wasn’t with me anymore, or the rest of the guys. Not the same way. Can I blame him? Of course not, but it still taught me a valuable lesson.

Relationships are fluid, and depend entirely on context.

That might not be how things OUGHT to be; my claim is meant to be descriptive, not normative. Relationships can change quickly based on what context they’re being put into. Right now, Todd’s relationship with me was a core. Nothing more, nothing less. Honestly, it makes me sad, though it shouldn’t, and not in ways most would expect.

Since I know that I can’t be mad at Todd for what he’s doing, I am sad because I know it signifies the end of something we had. We had a tight knit relationship; but after 4 years of university, he’s graduating. Meanwhile I will still be in school, and that status change alone will cause our friendship to be something different, whether I like it or not.

All of this thinking relates to time. A common theme for me these past couple of weeks has been time; the passing, the coming, the going. My time with Todd’s friendship as it stands is coming to an end, and I can feel it. It’s almost palpable. Time seems to keep… flowing, going, dragging with it a lot of things that I will never have again. Nothing (Save for Nothingness, I suppose), with time, is solid and stable; unless you believe in a God of some sort, but since I can’t do that, the only thing that will be guaranteed to be stable is me and whatever/whoever else I can place my trust in not to. Even then, I will change too, and already have I’m sure.

This change is nonstop. You can’t rest, even if for a moment, and you won’t as you’ll see change all around you can there will be nothing you can do to slow it down. I can handle it. I know I can; but sometime, it just feels like it’s too much.

People told me that time was gonna fly, that change was going to happen, and that people would go in and out of my life. This shouldn’t be a surprise to me at all.

I just wish it all a bit slower, that’s all.

Relationships: Things Happen vs For the Best

Like this post hitting your stupid face, for instance.

I am not of the opinion that “things happen for a reason” such that there is a master plan for everything, another way of saying “____ works in mysterious ways”. Whether it’s a bird shitting on you or a car accident, it still implies that cancer “happens” for a reason other than “because if cancer was a person, it’d be a %$^&ing asshole, and a serial killer”. It’s a frustrating thing to hear people say, and every time someone says it I punt a puppy.

Why? “Things happen!”

However, things happening for the best? That’s different. The implication being that the social outcome of a problem sticky in nature can work out for the overall good of people involved. This is something that happens frequently, but especially in relationships.

I can’t count how many times I’ve heard of or seen a relationship explode and it has been for the better afterwards. Every single broken relationship I can think of has benefitted from this thought, and overall makes for happier people at the end of an unhappy chapter. That mode of thought allows for catharsis, rather than a need for retribution or revenge.

For instance, two of my friends just got out of a relationship with one another. Although the specifics are hugely juicy and super interesting, I won’t go into them in detail; suffice to say, it had been almost a year before they broke up that the relationship started suffering from lethal lack of communication.

Sometimes, there's nothing you can do. And then sometimes, there's a pair of scissors...

In the end, neither party was fully happy in the relationship: one person scared the other one anytime an issue showed itself, which cause both parties to hide things from one another and essentially not communicate (arguably the blood of a relationship).

Right now, things are ugly. Some friends are taking sides, others are condemning and complaining (and we all know that any fool can condemn and complain… and most do), and everyone’s acting like the break up was a bad thing. HORRIBLE. NOTHING COULD BE WORSE, X TREATED Y LIKE CRAP, Y WAS A MONGER ‘, BLAH BLAH ASS-TAINTING CHAFE FUCKS WE’RE GONNA DIE IF WE DON’T RAISE HELL.

Very, very stupid.

Why? Why on Earth are we getting worked up about a good thing?

The end of a relationship like this is much like a forest fire to a dying grove. The trees are gnarled, old, and rotting. Immediately after being burned, the area smells like ash and ass. Give it time, and the place grows back better than ever before!

My point is this: you have to look at a bigger picture, and look at all the consequences. Right now it’s ugly, true. Living situations are messed, feelings are bruised, and friendships are kind being torn; but that’s all people look at these days! Short term shit. Long term? Both people will be in happier relationships, and people will have completely forgotten about this situation. Life goes on.

Also, this avoids a lot of the drama, which is something that makes this puppy punter politely pat a puppy instead.

And this makes for happier puppies. Healthier ones too!

Now to bed. I’m so tired. Of everything. Shit included.