In Between
this site the web

Pasty Shoveler

For the past few weeks, we have been blessed with the absense of snow. In the vast majority of years, snow has atleast been on the ground since October and follows through until April, like Calgary's the cake that's been iced, and throughout the seasons, we just keep adding more chilly white decorations.

It's Murphy's Law that when you say something, the exact opposite will happen. So I blame the snow on me.

The other night, I went over to my aunt's house to collect cans for my fundraiser when she asked me if I could take care of her house while they're gone. As I was bidding good night, my aunt says to me, "Well, I hope it doesn't snow", "But your going to Dominican, what does it matter?". She follows with "I know, but if it snow's, you have to shovel the walks". Cleverly, I replied "Hhaha, watch it snow tomorrow!". Ofcourse, they will go to the Dominican, get great tans and I'll be the frozen pasty kid shoveling walks.

Who'd of thunk that it would have snowed? Cause, honestly I didn't think it would. I mean, I know that Calgary's weather is always unpreditable, but I figured we had been going on a lucky stream.

So, to my fellow Calgarians whom might have forgotten their mitts today whilst walking home, caught the wrong bus and had to take an extra half hour to walk home, cursed out loud when the snow caressed their cheeks but sighed with relief when they got home. And once again, I apologize for my lack of sincerity and joke making irony.

Hope everyone got home safe.
-Happy Blogger (Pasty Shoveler)

A Million Billion Trillion Words

When I was thirteen years old I stumbled upon an album in my uncle's record collection entitled Playin' With Your Head by a man named George Carlin. I had not heard the name until then but that name quickly became the most important name I would ever know. But that part is irrelevant. Playin' With Your Head was Carlin's 7th comedy album and starts off with a track titled 'Hello-Goodbye.' This track is basically four minutes of different ways to say hello and goodbye. And that's what I'm getting at. Words.

Words have been my second biggest obsession--next to comedy, coincidentally--since my discovery of that album. The way they sound, the way they look, the way they feel as you slowly piece them together out of letters. One of my favorite feelings is to simply write words with a pencil and feel the ideas being formed into tangible symbols right in front of me. That's one of the things I find most fascinating about words. Inside our heads, ideas just float around arbitrarily, like bubbles or bumblebees. You can't see them, can't smell them, can't touch them. There's no way for another person to perceive a thought. But words, spoken with their funny sounds or written with their goofy letters, bring thoughts to life.

One interesting thing words can do that thoughts can't is affect. A thought is harmless, trapped inside the mind of its creator. But once it squirms its way out into the real world, it has the power to provoke. When a thought is given the new ability to provoke, one of two things will happen. It will either lift up or bring down. Lifting words can be funny, romantic, encouraging, educational. They convey a message of positivity. Then there are the down words. Words that insult, reduce, discourage, discriminate. They are meant to offend or belittle. Some words are not even necessarily positive or negative, but arranged in a specific order with other words, can be either. I know that sounds so obvious and basic. But have you ever actually thought about it? How fascinating it is?

One of the most fascinating words to me is somewhat taboo and widely considered a curse word. The worst of them some might say. It's a word that we use in almost every possible grammatical context. It can be a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, pronoun...and in each tense too. It's a word we often use to refer to the process of creating life. But possibly more often as a word to insult and condemn. That word is "fuck". Fascinating that a word we associate with the miracle of basically causing life is also one our most obscene curse words. The history and etymology of the word is even connected with copulation. In ancient England, couples were required to ask permission of the king before procreating. If awarded permission they would receive a placard to place on their door reading F. U. C. K. Fornication Under Consent of the King.

I hope you enjoy my words,
- Sad Blogger


EDIT June 26 2011: I just watched a film called "Fuck: The Documentary" and according to several linguists confirmed that the "fornication under consent of the king" thing is total bullshit. The doc made a point of actually mocking people who believed that's where it came from. So perhaps I'll come back and either rewrite this piece or write an entirely fresh piece with my newfound knowledge.

In Response

In Response to:


Rememberance Day: We celebrate it at school, we celebrate it on the day, we celebrate at 11 o' clock, and we remember on our own, but this rememberance day was different then most. Soldiers came to our school and handed out these little slips of papers that exclaimed "JOBS NOW"- Do Basic Training in the summer, and you can get any other job with the Military. Now, most people got the slip, disregarded it and moved on with their lives, but not me. I actually kind of want to do Basic Training. When I told people, some people laughed, some people couldn't believe that I want to do it, but others would love to join me. For me, it's probably the craziest thing I could do, but I'm actually considering, and planning on attending after I graduate High school.


World of Work: So I am currently employed, but hopefully by tommorow, I will no longer be employed. I kind of have a policy where if something goes wrong (majorly wrong) atleast 3 times, I kind of just quit. It's not a good thing, I know that, but that's honestly how I end up feeling. Any who, I'm hoping to move on and move forward, like anything in life, and hope for a job at the farmers market?


Oireachtas: The results from my dance competiton. Well, both teams from my school recalled, and the majority of my school recalled as soloists. My goal for that weekened was to perform my set on stage, which I did, But I didn't feel like it was a weekend for me. I was way more proud of my friends and sister who qualified. I've been there, Done that, got the t-shirt/long sleeve/ hoodie.

School: Is it sad that I am doing better in Math 20 then I ever did in Math 10? Response= Happy parents, TA, and me.


H1N1: I'm neutral about the whole thing, but I think it is a concern. Stupid Facebook groups should really grow up. Zombies, really?


2012: I have my theories, I've read about others. Do I think the world is going to end? No. Do I think something will happen? You bet. Mind you, I'm very supersticious and spook myself out.


Responsed by:
-Happy Blogger

Oireachtas

Around this time every year, there is a western regional competition for Irish Dancing called the 'Oireachtas'. As for this year, this event commences tommorow. It's location varies throughout the years, and as long as I've been competing, they've varied from Kelowna, Edmonton, Vancouver... but this year, were back in Edmonton.


The friday usually consists of some younger competitions plus the team dancing towards the end of the night. As for my School, we have 2 8-hand teams entered, and a couple of 4-hands. I'm in an over 16 8-hand that will be dancing the 'cross reel', and every saturday up to this competition, we have been working on 'perfecting' them. Not quite sure how we are going to do tomorrow, cause we have a pretty tough competition. As for my 4-hand, we have deemed ourselves "The Dream Team", and we would really love to win it this year. GO DREAM TEAM.


The saturday will be the solo dancing. In the solos, you dance either a trouble jig/hornpipe and reel/slip jig. After you have danced those dances, the adjudicators will place each of the dancers, and if you are in the top 50%, you recall. In a recall, you get to dance a 'Set' dance, which is a personalized dance that you dance all alone on stage.


Some of my set dances in the past have been 'The Three Sea Captains", "The Story Teller", "The Planxty Drury", "The Downfall of Paris", "The Drunken Gauger (my personal favorite)", "The Bonepartes Retreat (which is my current dance)" and my school is now working towards "The Blackthorn Stick". Other randoms I've learned--- Hurry the Jug... Oh, the Irish and their names...


Moving on... Once you've danced, they place you. At the end of the night, they have a huge ceremony where you are still in full costume, and they reward your competition on stage. I'm not quite sure, most of those who recall qualify for the Nationals, and the top 10% will qualify for the worlds, and the top 5 get sashes. Lucky Bitches.


At the end of the day, I'm already qualified for the Nationals, and as for qualifiying for the worlds...? That would require much more time and effort than I can give.. But we'll see how it goes.


Wish me Luck.
-Happy Blogger

Crash

An uncomfortable apprehension descends over the unexpected pause in downtown traffic. Among grumbles of impatience and mutters of speculation, the squeak of rubber necks is just barely distinguishable. But then, the unmistakable grate of a crying child. Not that miserable weeping of a miscreant just slapped, or the intolerable sniffle following the death of an ice cream cone. The air rings with the cacophonous wailing brought on by nightmares or a gashed knee. Those closer to ground zero catch glimpses of clothing and shopping bags strewn across the pavement. As the curious crowd pushes forward, the reality of the scene becomes apparent with blinding speed.


Stock still on the sidewalk, the wail emanates from a blond-haired boy, no older than 5. One arm hung limp at his side, the other stretched out, desperately pointing at the source of his terror. The eyes of the crowd follow the line from his pointing finger and a cumulative gasp rises into the still air. Sprawled 30 feet from a vacated Chevy, it can only be assumed the lifeless heap is the mother. Her head twisted at a garish angle, legs contorted into impossible zigzags. No one would believe she was still alive. Made all the more surreal by the one missing shoe and the crudely ripped skirt.

The muffled scream of a siren rises up over the shocked silence. Someone among the horrified onlookers must have lurched out of their stupor. The dissonant lament of the ambulance soon drowns out the child's crying and the blank stares turn to distracted indifference. With a few pitying glances tossed at the abandoned boy, the crowd disperses. Crisis over. While the paramedic crew cleans up the carnage, the slamming of car doors brings the day's routine crashing back to the morning traffic. So the world begins to revolve again. And at the center, a little blond boy without a mom. Crash.

Actually sad this time,
- The Sad Blogger
 

W3C Validations

Cum sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. Morbi dapibus dolor sit amet metus suscipit iaculis. Quisque at nulla eu elit adipiscing tempor.

Usage Policies