This is a 'Mystery' Incorporated Title. Posted by Happy Blogger , 30.10.09 at Friday, October 30, 2009, in

What to type? What to type...?


You know what I hate more than anything? I hate it when I'm working on something (ie. I painting, a blog post...) I really hate it when people are watching me from behind. It's like there to scared to ask me what I want to write about, and then I sit there all frustrated and flustered because for some weird reason it really bothers me. I remember once I got a 'paint by number' thing from my dad's company for Christmas. I had never actually had any interest in painting it until one summer day where I was really bored, and pulled it out for something to do. I sat there in peaceful serenity, and one of my sisters came and watched me work from behind. Naturally, I became super tense and stopped. It's even worse when they say, 'Don't stop', or 'Sorry, did i disrupt you', because- yes. Yes you did. I'm not quite sure why I get like that, but I don't like people seeing/reading things before they are finished. Once I'm done- it's all theres, but until then, it's my secret.


(p.s. inspiration for rant=sister waiting for me to write something)




Tommorow's Halloween, and what better way to celebrate by going to the Marianas Trench concert? Even though they've come to Calgary before, I never went because I never learnt to appreciate them until this summer. I mean, I had heard Cross My Heart and All to Myself on the radios, but in my own opinion, those aren't their best songs. They are their most 'radio compatible' but I prefer their masterpieces. I'm going with a couple of my good friends, and we were all supposed to dress up as Mystery Inc. Mind you, our Velma didn't want to wear orange, and our shaggy would be 5'4, and Fred's a girl. But what's wrong with that? Well, they all decided against it, but I'm still going as Daphne, and Scooby Doo is still going.


Scooby Doo, where are you?


Due to recent events, I have been proved to be the most 'clueless' driver. The other day, I drove to dance, and I pulled up into a stall which was on a bit of a hill. I don't usually put on my parking break, and so I parked a little bit further back so I would roll in. But then I decided that that isn't very smart. So I pulled forward, put on my parking brake, turned off my car and my lights. But now I couldn't get the keys out. I sat there panicking for a few minutes while my friend and I were trying to figure out what kind of stupid stunt I had pulled this time. About 5 minutes later, I realized my car wasn't in park. Fixed that problem, but later that weekend, my car wasn't shifting cars very easily, and I was trying to figure out why. Neither my mom or my dad could figure out either. (You see, my van is extremely old and crappy- so anything that goes wrong is not shocking). But one morning, it was still a little dark outside, and I was driving my sister to school. I went out to warm up the car, and try to get the car to go into reverse. Then I noticed that when I was pressing on the breaks, the lights at the back weren't lighting up.... and the car won't come out of park unless the breaks are on- and if the car isn't detecting the breaks aren't on, the car won't change gears! Jinky's! Zoinks! Jeepers! I solved the mystery! Ooh- I'm feeling like Mystery Inc. already! I proudly came back in the house, told my dad what was happening- and I personally feel I redeemed not so 'clueless' status.


My next mystery to solve? Find the person who's behind the lock situation at school.


Let's split up, gang!


Happy Halloween


-Happy Blogger

To Be a Star Posted by Sad Blogger , 22.10.09 at Thursday, October 22, 2009, in

When the universe has finished exploding all the stars will slow down, like a ball that has been thrown into the air, and they will come to a halt and they will all begin to to fall towards the center of the universe again. And then there will be nothing to stop us seeing all the stars in the world because they will all be moving towards us, faster and faster, and we will know that the world is going to end soon because when we look up into the sky at night there will be no darkness, just the blazing light of billions and billions of stars. All falling.

Four months and a thousand years ago, myself and several friends partook of a happy, drunken adventure to the mountain resort town of Radium. We spent only four days there but having committed ourselves to finishing off all $250 worth of alcohol we had bought for the weekend, each evening was spent in an intoxicated stupor. Okay, not all of us, but the two people who are critical to this story. On one particularly groggy night, the two of us decided to go for a walk outside. We exited the condo complex we were staying in and proceeded to lay down in the middle of the street. It was there that the inspiration for this rambling mess comes from. Spread out on the pavement and staring up at the stars, this thought came to me:

What must it be like to be a star? Think about how often you've ever stepped outside at night and wished you could see all the stars. Or the time you might have been camping or out of the city and had the opportunity to witness the expansive spread of stars from horizon to horizon. The world's concept of the stars' representation of beauty is almost cliché now. But imagine what it must be like, for even once in your life to have at least one single person sigh with wonder and gaze at you in awe. In AWE! Imagine if your life's purpose was to come out every night and fill even one person (in your entire lifetime!) with wonder and amazement.

What a perfect life. To be born, to be admired in disbelief, and to die in an explosion of imperceptible light.

Be a star,

- Sad Blogger

TGIF: (Well It Used To Be) Posted by Happy Blogger , 19.10.09 at Monday, October 19, 2009, in

Last Friday, my friend decided to take me to The Stepfather. I had honestly never gone and seen a scary/thriller/horror movie before, and she wanted to take me to my first.


She picked me up, and we headed down to the theater. On the way down, I pre-warned her that I might just jump into her lap, or scream, or put my head into her shoulder, and that she should be ready for that. In the midst of talking, we got slightly confused of the directions to the theater, so we took a rather quick exit in which 'probably broke 6 laws' and headed up a different road. Luckily, my old dance studio used to be in the area, and I knew how to get to the mall from there. We get into the mall parking lot, and as we pull in two other cars had simaltaneously pulled out too. 'F' bombs blew up everywhere, and close cutting turns took place, but we moved past that. As we go to park, she had originally tried to pull in a stall going straight, had to back up, but ended up parking perfectly straight in the stall behind us. For an amateur driver, it was pretty awesome. We got out of the car, and then realized we hd parked on the complete opposite end of the mall to where the theater was, 'but walkings good for you' she assured me, and off we went.


As we finally neared the theater, we got up there, stood in a ridicoulously long line up for the tickets, and then another long line up for popcorn, sat down in the packed theater. One of the people working there came in soon after and warned us that the movie had a sound glitch, and that if we wanted refunds we could, but we decided to stay... we had already paid, walked ALL the way to the theater, popcorn, ticket... you get the picture...


The movie started. Now, I have seen other scary/thriller/horror movies before, just not in the atmosphere of a theater. So I knew that the first half of the movie wouldn't be scary, but just to gather information, and try to think out what you think could possibily happen. The plus side to this movie, was Penn Badgley was shirtless for the majority of it. I don't want to ruin the ending, but you know that there is a stepfather that is killing families... and so you could probably guess what was going to happen, you just never know when...


At parts, I had grabbed my friends wrist and squeezed it until I think she lost circulation, then squeezed her hand... gasped, never screamed, but none the less, it was the scariest movie I have seen in theaters...

The movies now done, and we are walking all the way back to the car. On the way back, most of the stores were being shut down, and just being the people we normally are, walking incredibly fast. As were walking back, there were these guys that were sitting on some of the chairs that started saying 'Oh yeah' repeatedly. Me, being totally oblivious to the fact that they were talking to/about us, just kept on walking. Once they said 'Don't you walk faster' it then clicked that they were talking to me (we were walking ridicously fast). I mean, I have gotten a 'Hey babe' and stuff like that, but 'Oh yeah?!' was just weird in my opinion. I mean, what do guys honestly think that we are going to do if they start talking to us like that. I just don't understand why guys feel the neccesity to do that, and if any one can give me a valid reason of why guys actually do that, I might just change my mind. Anyways, got back to the car, laughed about it, and now that is our insider joke, so when I walked into school on monday, and my friend said 'Oh yeah' as I walked in, people were just confused, but it made sense to me.


Overall, it was a pretty good night, but the weekends over, and so it's back to work I go.


-Happy Blogger.

Good Things Part 4 Posted by Sad Blogger , 15.10.09 at Thursday, October 15, 2009, in

That summer my family took another trip to Disney World. Some might think that a 15 year old would not have been overjoyed to walking around the kingdom of childish fantasy but for me it was better than it was the first time. I was able to go on the rides that I was too scared to go on the first time. And I laughed every single second I spent on those rides. I was constantly smiling. It was magical. One night we went out for dinner and my parents surprised us with tickets to Cirque Du Soleil. I sort of knew what Cirque was but had never really seen anything to do with it. Let me tell you, it changed my life. It was inspiring. The amazing, soul-clenching music coupled with the grace and majesty of the talent on the stage took my breath away. That night changed me...I fell in love with beauty. That trip is probably also in my top 5 memories if not the top 3.

I forgot to mention that in the tenth grade I was also introduced to Life Teen. Life Teen is the high school youth group that I have been attending ever since I first decided to try it out in October 2005. The group of people that I have surrounded myself with in Life Teen for the last 3 years have been the greatest blessing to me. They have inspired me unlike anything else. Every week I learned more about each of them and they helped me to learn about myself. I have overcome huge personal obstacles just because of the things I learned from these people. They consistently move me and unknowingly encourage me to keep growing and keep going. We've had out misunderstandings and our fights and we've made up and grown closer and I am so thankful for them. As well as them, I thank God nightly for our youth leader and his wife. They've been the greatest blessing of all. They've guided me whether they know it or not. I look up them and aspire to be like them some day. They have given me some of the greatest memories and most impacting lessons of my short life. I have looked forward to every Life night for the past three years. Because the people there bring me the greatest joy. I couldn't imagine a better way to grow up and learn.

It's kind of funny how we forget more stuff the closer it is to our present. In the eleventh grade I met my first and last girlfriend (haha). Holy moly, you wanna talk about happy. I thought I was the happiest guy in the world for the short time it lasted. I'll tell you, there is nothing more magical than just sitting in the grass, hypnotized by the feeling of a girl's hand intertwined in yours. Nothing like feeling her against you, knowing that you both want nothing more than to just stay like that forever. There's no greater joy than feeling wanted. Sure it didn't last long by some other peoples' standards, but the happiness and experience I got from that relationship are more than worth it. That year my family rented an RV and we drove it up to Edmonton and we did schoolwork and frolicked while my dad attended business meetings. From there we continued on to Jasper where more frolicking was done and more business meetings were attended. That was not the first time I had been to the mountains. When I was younger, we had stayed in Lake Louise for a weekend in the winter. As grumpy as I was to be wearing a full snowsuit, crossing the frozen lake was the coolest thing. We got to the other end and got to touch a frozen waterfall. I'll never forget how amazing that was. Back to Jasper, that was the first time I actually fell in love with the way they rocky masses soared into the breathtaking sky. I know it's lame, but that was the first time I was able to appreciate the mountains...every perfect, chiseled detail of the jagged surfaces...the way they absolutely dwarfed everything, the power they were. I wished I could have stayed in the campground forever and just stared at the unmovable mountains.

As always,

- Sad Blogger

The Cookie Purpose Posted by Happy Blogger , 5.10.09 at Monday, October 05, 2009, in

You come home, and you take in the smell of a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies, and you can't help but wonder what could be any better in the world than these cookies. What makes them the best. What was their purpose. Were they just a cookie?


Let's go back and venture through a cookies life.


They start off as a colaboration of jumbled ingediants in a bowl. Completely useless.


Then we mix them together. All each individualized, made in the special formation of the creator.


Then we place them all in the oven. We watch over them while they grow, and bake them to perfection. And when they are ready, we take them out of the oven to cool off.


If any of you eat the cookie dough, and the baked cookies, you make cookie blobs in your tummy. And then from there they make Cookie babies if you will, and cookie babies make you happy. =]


Once they are cooled off, and ready to be eaten, the cookies full purpose was to make cookie babies in your tummy, which make you happy. And isn't that what we strive for in life. The Pursuit of Happiness? Cookies make people happy. So eat cookies.


On Behalf of Happiness and Cookies everywhere.
-Happy Blogger.

Make 'Em (Not Really) Laugh: An Opinion Essay Posted by Sad Blogger , 3.10.09 at Saturday, October 03, 2009, in

I can feel the sweat stains spreading. The stage lights beat down on me with all the mercy of a Catholic schoolteacher. My focus emerges from the din of the impatient crowd and with the mic desperately clutched in my hand it’s time to dive in. Welcome to twenty-five minutes of personal torment. I’m here to make them laugh, but it’s anything but funny. I got into amateur stand-up comedy when I was 15 and still naïve enough to believe it would get me somewhere. I’ll stop you before you get the impression that I’m impressive. The past three years in “the biz” have taught me several lessons. Three of which I relearn every time I go on stage. Stand-up may look like a laugh at first glance but many comics will tell you otherwise.

The first trial is “the heckler”. There’s at least one in every crowd. I have from the moment my name is announced to the instant the first punch line leaves my lips to convince ninety-six people their money has been well spent. The first joke is a tightrope walk as I tread carefully over the expectant silence. Then it happens. “I started by putting on shows for my family in my basement.” I can feel it coming before I’m even onto the next word. Like a right hook to the jaw, “You should have stayed there!” So we’re back in the second grade, where he who has the best insult establishes dominance. But I have to shake it off. They don’t know the time or effort I’ve put into this night. My mom still thinks I’m cool. Besides, I’m only there for their entertainment.

But alas, it is “the walkers” that deliver the heavier blow. Each show is like a battle. Like a soldier leading my audience into the melee, they’re not all going to be there in the end. I can tell who they’re going to be. They talk loudly over the announcer and sit awkwardly with their arms crossed. Some walkers are polite and at least endure my openers before bolting. But the ones that hurt are the people in the front row that ask for the cheque the moment I walk on stage. They make a show of standing up quickly and bustling about as they gather their things. They toss me intolerant looks and seem to scream, “You are awful!” At least the hecklers stay for the whole show. Again it boils down to their failure to recognize my efforts. I spent a week preparing to bring joy to their evening and they asked for their money back.

The worst part of being a comic is looking back on a show and realizing what a nothing I am. I watched an episode of VH1’s Behind The Music before coming on stage and convinced myself that I would walk out to 20,000 people chanting my name. Instead, I walked out to a few dozen drunken slobs who didn’t even know my name. Half of them didn’t even clap. But there’s still work to do. After my meagre door profits are collected it’s time to whore myself in the foyer. Like a captain going down with his ship, I stand moronically by my wobbly folding table. Sporting a pathetic collection of home-engineered live CDs, some pens I spent more on than I’ll make back, and my hung over face blown up on a wall poster, the audience files past me like I’m selling used diapers at a yard sale. I was actually looking forward to this night. With the coat-check girl as my solitary witness, I admit defeat and load my garbage into the car. I’d better get home and start writing for next weekend’s gig.

As you can see, comedy is a dead sport. Hardly the glamorous existence you might imagine it to be. There are no girls flocking to my side, no managers knocking down my door offering to make me the next big thing. I watch George Carlin specials at 2 a.m. on Tuesday and read books about Eddie Murphy’s transcendent film career and lie to myself. I chant my delusional mantra, “that’ll be me someday,” as I bounce along to “Eye of the Tiger”. The true face of comedy is the stingy club manager. It’s the mental crucifixion at the hands of the audience every single night. It’s the useless pile of torn pages and crumpled napkins in my room, every unappreciated joke I’ve written. It’s the forty dollars in my pocket at the end of the day. Don’t get me wrong. I live for the laughter, but the comedy kills me.

Coming at ya,

- The Sad Blogger