Webber Writes...

On... Why I Don't Want Vancouver to Win the Stanley Cup.

2011-05-10T13:46:00.000-04:00

For a team that has been pinned as "Canada's team," I certainly can say I would disagree about that staple in the Vancouver Canucks.

I don't think there is any one team that can clearly represent Canadian hockey fans as a whole. When it comes to hockey and especially in the NHL there's going to be rivalries and that means rivalries within provinces.

Ask any hometown hockey fan in Edmonton and Calgary and see how they feel as a majority about the Canucks winning it all this year. The same can be said about the Toronto Maple Leafs versus the Ottawa Senators and the past rivalry between the infamous Quebec Nordiques and Montreal Canadiens.

Putting the "Canada's team" debate aside, there are a few reasons I refuse to cheer for Vancouver to win the Cup.

Sure the Canucks are the last "Canadian" team left in the play-offs and sure they have been the best chance for a "Canadian" team to bring Lord Stanley back to Canadian soil but really, when I look down the roster line-up there just isn't one player I want to see hoist the drink.

For starters- arguably of course, Vancouver's Raffe Torres doesn't deserve to be in the play-offs.

His penalized but unsuspended hit on the Chicago Blackhawks' Brent Seabrook (a day- nay shift back from a previous suspension) still makes me question where the leagues integrity is at and that honestly is reason enough to make me root for the San Jose Sharks or the Detroit Red Wings to move onto the finals.

Then bring into factor that their all-star forwards in Henrik and Daniel Sedin aren't even Canadian (Swedish), Ryan Kesler (American) was the biggest whiner from the 2010 winter Olympics, Roberto Luongo is the most over-rated goaltender and now I'm thinking that the Cup can lay in the sands in either sunny Florida or California.

Why wouldn't I cheer for a team that is ripe with strong Canadian talent in the Sharks or the Tampa Bay Lightning (biased opinions aside).

The Tampa Bay team we see today was forged together not even a year ago by Steve Yzerman and is captained by a stand-up straight laced Canadian in Vincent Lecavalier, who has made these play-offs a chance to bring back his dominance in the NHL. Throw in Canadian great Martin St. Louis, fast-rising Canadian star Steven Stamkos and long-time veteran Dwayne Roloson (41) of Simcoe, Ont. and now I'm really excited to see these guys win hockey's most prestigious championship.

When the dust finally settles in early June and say the Canucks do end up winning the Stanley Cup then I will say congrats to them and I will most certainly oblige that it's good for the Cup to be back in Canada but I will also stay true to my words and will be able to say I did not jump on the Vancouver band-wagon, self-proclaimed as, "Canada's team."

On Nationalism In The NHL.

2011-02-11T13:56:00.000-05:00

Aside from the 14 goals scored, the 12 fighting majors and 182 penalty minutes served in the recent Habs-Bruins gong show there was one moment that really stuck-out to me.

In the heat of all the fighting and goal scoring, Bruins fans rallied a "USA, USA," chant.

After some close research there are 15 Canadians and just three Americans playing for the Boston Bruins this year. The Bruins top points leader is a Canadian (Patrice Bergeron of Quebec) and their captain Zdeno Chara is Slovakian.

There are six Americans playing for the Habs including captain Brian Gionta.

I'm not sure if the Bruins fans realise these statistics but perhaps after reading this blog they might think twice about their proud nationalism.

There's more to this specific history between these two teams though.

Going back to the NHL play-offs in 2004 the Montreal Canadiens' fans "boo-ed" the American national anthem at the Bell Centre and the Boston fans replied at the TD Garden with cheers during the Canadian anthem. Don Cherry of CBC's Hockey Night in Canada had this to say...

What happened to the "class?"

Or perhaps it isn't about class in this case at all, I would argue it's a case of ignorance.

Come on Bruins' fans, open your eyes and look closer at your roster before you disrespect your fellow countrymen!

There was another separate case in TD Garden earlier this year in a regular season game between the Bruins and the visiting Toronto Maple Leafs.

A little background on the situation. Phil Kessel (former Bruin) was traded to the Leafs for two first-round draft picks in 2011 and 2012. The Bruins ended up getting the 2nd over-all pick in 2011 and drafted highly-touted, Tyler Seguin.

Kessel scored 36 goals for the Bruins in 2009 before his trade to Leafs Land (he was the odd man out after the Bruins' GM had to sign other quality players to contracts) and recorded 60 points in that same year.

I fail to see how Kessel's name should be in this particular chant. He played remarkably well for the team, why disrespect him? Should it not have been "Thank-you Burke"? (Brain Burke, Leafs GM) What did Kessel have to do with being the odd man out or being traded for two first-round picks?

Call me biased, but after chants like these two examples, I have to wonder what type of beer these fans are drinking to make them come-up with these thoughtless chants.

I think Mike Komisarek says it best in this video.

Unfortunately I could not edit the last sentence in the video.

On Peter Forsberg.

2011-02-08T15:02:00.000-05:00

Barring a brief work visa issue, Peter Forsberg of Sweden will be back for another round with the Colorado Avalanche to give his NHL career one last legitimate shot.

For US$1 million, the Avalanche can't really go wrong with this play-off push acquisition. The 37-year-old will bring a new buzz to the Colorado fan-base and if he can finish the regular season healthy and if there is a post-season for the Avalanche then who wouldn't want Foppa's services?

According to nhl.com Forsberg has 171 points in 151 play-off appearances and has a plus-54 rating- not to mention he also owns two Stanley Cup rings and is also a former recipient of both of the prestigious Art Ross and Hart trophies.

This is all sounds like the signing was a no-brainer for Colorado but the down-side is that Forsberg has been in-and-out of the NHL because of injuries to his feet, ankles and groin.

I don't blame Foppa for giving it one last shot and I commend him for playing for a meager $1 million (sad as that makes me to write out) but I have strong intuitions that his come-back will be short-lived once more.

Players often force themselves to believe their injuries are gone when in reality they are in no position to play at 100 percent.

I truly believe Forsberg is eying this opportunity with his glass half-full but as I said before, I don't blame him. The Avalanche is his go-to team, the people of Colorado love him there and the Avalanche are within reach of the eighth play-off spot.

I will put a positive spin on his return though in thinking that he may be able to find some chemistry with struggling teammate, Chris Stewart.

Stewart has been lacking since returning from his own injury and perhaps being put on a line with Forsberg may re-ignite the brilliant start to the season that Stewart had for the Avalanche.

I hope Forsberg's return on Wednesday in Minnesota (assuming his work visa is in order) ends well but if my intuitions are accurate then a million dollars will just be an after-thought next year for Colorado.

On 15-Year Contracts in the NHL.

2011-02-04T15:09:00.000-05:00

I read a headline on nhl.com today and immediately rolled my eyes.

"DiPietro Out 4-6 Weeks."

A little history on Rick DiPietro- an injury plagued New York Islanders goaltender.

Back in September 2006, DiPietro signed an eye-opening NHL contract with the Islanders worth 67.5 million dollars and more notably the contract length: 15-years.

He earns 4.5 million each year until 2021, but those figures are not the real reason my eyes roll every time I see his name in the headlines.

My eyes roll to the back of my skull because of the amount of injury time lost since he signed this outrageous contract with the Islanders.

Of the six years DiPietro has played since signing the monster deal with the Islanders the Winthrop, Mich. native has played just 163 games.

The average No.1 goaltender will play about 60-70 games per season so let's do the math.

Six seasons times 65 games (Average amount of NHL games a No.1 goalie should play) is 390 games.

390 games subtracted from 163 games (DiPietro's total games played) is 227 games.

He has missed an insurmountable number of games due to injuries but who is to blame for the unearned salary cap hit each season?

The Islanders GM Garth Snow, that's who.

Snow offered a goalie who had a respectable 30 wins but a meager 3.02 GAA in the previous season- 15 years... quite the brain scratcher.

I don't want to harp and pick on DiPietro but when a player is earning disgusting amounts of money each year for a decade and a half to rehab and cheer-lead a team that continues to dwell in the bottom of the Eastern Conference standings and loses revenue each year because the fans are giving up on the team... it annoys me.

Let's just hope the ridiculous unearned contracts of the DiPietro's and the Kovalchuk's of the league become just a black mark in NHL history and not a trend in the future.

On Groundhogs.

2011-02-02T12:07:00.002-05:00

So Wiarton Willie tells us we will have an early spring in 2011 but the weather outside tells me differently.

Punxsutawney Phil with official groundhog handlers.

Sure we aren't having the "Snowmaggedon" the weatherman predicted for most parts of Ontario but it's still blistering outside today and I, for one, hope the little fur-ball's prediction is right.

According to a study by the gaurdian.co.uk the groundhog has been wrong a lot more then he has been right.

The study took the majority of the predictions from all of the weather predicting groundhogs and then "calculated the mean average snowfall for a February in North America using data from the last 10 years, then we subtracted this average from the snow-cover for the particular year," the gaurdian article says. "This gives us an indication of the severity of the winter for that year relative to the other years. The conclusion of our little study is that the groundhogs have only predicted the length of winter correctly three times in the last 10 years."

Check out the full study here.

On Turtles.

2011-01-17T12:48:00.001-05:00

Turtle is defined as follows by dictionary.com, any of various aquatic or terrestrial reptiles of the order Testudines (or Chelonia), having horny toothless jaws and a bony or leathery shell into which the head, limbs, and tail can be withdrawn in most species.

Perhaps the oldest tale about the green hard-shelled fellow first impacted society with a positive message, The Tortoise and the Hare says slow and steady wins the race. There are many different beliefs about what the true meaning of the children’s story is but one might assume the true meaning is to teach that you should never rush into anything and be over-confident. Walt Disney Productions created a Silly Symphonies cartoon titled, The Tortoise and the Hare in 1935.

Fast-forward to the early 1980’s and enter Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael. Yes, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles captured the minds and imaginations of the main stream pop culture. The whacky and humorous superhero turtles were created by the minds of Kevin Eastman and his friend Peter Laird. The TMNT steam-rolled into the mid 90’s and raked in large revenues accumulated from their faces being plastered on lunch boxes, skateboards, clothing and apparel. Not to mention most boys and even some girls who grew up in that era can testify to playing with the dozens of action figures and toy accessories. There was a successful cartoon series and even a trilogy in the box-office.

And who of us can forget about dear Franklin; a children’s book series written in 1986 by Paulette Bourgeois and illustrated by Brenda Clark. Franklin the turtle and his animal friends taught about different life lessons and the popular books eventually made their way onto the television screens in 1997.

Yes the turtle may be slow and timid in real life, but society found a way to let the slimy creature into their hearts.

On Peer Pressure.

2010-12-22T22:59:00.000-05:00

Peer pressure is defined by dictionary.com as follows: The social influence a peer group exerts on its individual members as each member attempts to conform to the expectations of the group.

It would be easy to suggest why teenagers and adults drink and drive as a result of negative peer pressure. They might drink and drive because they want to fit in or because somebody or a group of people tell you they don’t want to take a taxi home from the bar or a house party so they will encourage the most sober person of the group to drive home.

On the flip-side, positive peer pressure can also deter people from drinking and driving. Taken from timescolonist.com, Steve Wallace shared a story about four fathers who took turns to drive children to hockey games and practice. Eventually one of the fathers was charged with a DUI charge and lost his license for three months. The other fathers quickly declined the offer from the offender when he offered to drive after his ban was finished to make up for his driving absence because they did not trust him to drive their own children any longer.

Wallace wrote, “The social stigma of an impaired driving conviction had a lasting effect on the relationship of the four men and their families. Many convicted drivers do not abstain from drinking and driving because of the law. They change their behaviour because of social pressure. Bad behaviour can go the way of the spittoon. Peer pressure is an extremely powerful weapon against drinking drivers. It is the kind of pressure we should all be willing to exert in order to end the senseless slaughter on our roads.”

Teenagers are easily led by negative peer pressure according to an article on thedrunkdrivingmasses.com because they have inexperience and their immaturity leads to them being subdued by negative peer pressure and accidents as a result of those traits and lack of experience; i.e. drag racing, drinking and driving and failure to properly wear seatbelts.

The article goes on to say that many young drivers are at an increased risk because of deficiencies in a variety of psychomotor, perceptual, and cognitive skills. Some young drivers intentionally increase their risk of collision - they are motivated by thrill-seeking or compromised by peer pressure. Lifestyle choices, alcohol, drug use and inexperience often combine to dramatically increase the crash risk of teen drivers.

Teenadvice.about.com adds in a separate article that peer pressure almost always plays a role in street racing and other car games played by teens.

It would be wise for any new driver young or old to drive with positive influences that will encourage them to drive safely and responsibly. Driving under positive peer pressure will result in proper seatbelt usage, controlled speeds and sober driving.

On Auto-Tune.

2010-12-20T16:13:00.003-05:00

Auto-Tune defined by dictionary.com states the meaning as such: (n) a software package that automatically manipulates a recording of a vocal track until it is in tune regardless of whether or not the original performance was in tune.

Taken from antarestech.com in 1997, Antares Audio Technologies (founded in 1990 as Jupiter Systems by Dr. Harold Hildebrand) moved into the hardware DSP effects processor market with the ATR-1, a rack-mount version of Auto-Tune. Antares incorporated in May 1998 and in January 1999 they acquired Cameo International who was their former distributor. Later in 1999, Antares once again created a new product category with the Antares Microphone Modeler, which is a plug-in that allows any reasonable quality microphone to sound like a vast selection of other more complex microphones.

Many artists in today’s pop culture rely heavily on Antares’s digital phenomenon. According to hiphopmusic.com, Auto-Tune was initially used discreetly to smooth over wrong notes but Cher first used the effect in 1998 as an instrument rather then as a corrective lens in her single, “Believe,” which reached the 74th spot of the list on VH1’s, 100 Greatest Songs of the 90’s. This song catapulted the popularity of Auto-Tune and in today’s pop world a vast majority of artists has moulded Auto-Tune as a generic sound. Most notably, Faheem Rasheed Najm, or otherwise known as T-Pain who single-handedly revolutionized the use of Auto-Tune in the hip-hop genre by winning two separate Grammy awards for both singles “The Good Life” with Kanye West and also “Blame It” with Jamie Foxx. As more and more artists continue to use the software, Cher and T-Pain could both go down as the grandparents of Auto-Tune; with special consideration to the ever-controversial artist, Kanye West.

But not only has Auto-Tune impacted the music industry for better or for worse, upon releasing the software to the general public, people everywhere Auto-Tuned everything and anything on the internet. Youtube.com has hundreds of thousands of videos dedicated to parodies and wanna-bes broadcasting their creativity and morphing older videos into musical mock-ups. According to networkworld.com in 2010, over 700 billion videos were viewed on youtube.com and more then 13 million hours of video were uploaded to the multi-media juggernaut (just to give you a rough idea of how powerful the internet can be to broadcast yourself).

Auto-Tune the News takes serious interviews and news pieces from around the world and masks the Auto-Tune feature over the voices and adds music to the background to create a much different tone then what the original content was originally intended.

Other youtube.com users such as SherrieLeaLaird take popular viral videos to make a new viral video using Auto-Tune such as SherrieLeaLaird’s Auto-Tuned take on Antoine Dodson.

Auto-Tune’s ability to turn anyone into an overnight songbird couldn’t be more evident then a video on youtube.com of a homely woman singing in “a-capella” about her favourite alcoholic beverage in contorting tones and pitches and then when later replayed in Auto-Tune and laying a music track beneath the song, the woman sings a catchy jingle.

Perhaps its reasons such as this that turns people off from Auto-Tune and why some people give zero respect to artists who use it such as Kesha who not only uses Auto-tune in her international hits such as “Tik-Tok,” but also sings in speech which may have also catapulted a new genre of pop music style. Collegehumor.com best explains her style with their musical parody “Sing-Talk.”

Further-still, T-Pain may have tarnished the music fad by allowing SonicMule Inc. to use his name in their iPhone application created in 2010, I Am T-Pain. According to americanconsumernews.com I Am T-Pain users have created almost 35 million Auto-Tuned recordings, the application has made Apple’s Top 300 iPad/iPod application list and I Am T-Pain has been featured on TV shows such as The Ellen Show and Jimmy Kimmel Live. At US$2.99 per download, T-Pain cashed in and permanently scorched his name into Auto-Tune history.

Rap super-star, Jay-Z released a track that was intended to ruin and crushthe use of Auto-Tune under the title, “D.O.A. (Death of Auto-Tune),” but according to crunchgear.com Anteras admitted that there was a boost in Auto-Tune sales in the weeks following the release of the song. The article goes on to explain that D.O.A. was ironically produced by Kanye West, an artist who certainly uses the gimmick in his own music.

So while there is much to celebrate and also to deliberate about Auto-Tune and its impact on the global multi-media scale, the fact remains that there is much popularity in the software and there might not be death for Auto-Tune anytime soon.

On Digital Dating.

2010-12-07T14:12:00.005-05:00

As part of many online disaster stories I have a lot of experience in the online dating world. The more times I ask couples how they met, the more responses I hear are becoming notably similar, “we met online.” Let’s face the facts, one-in-five American singles are in a committed relationship with a partner they have met online according to a match.com study found on datingsitesreviews.com.

Those are astounding numbers when there is a big stigmatism about meeting people through a dating website. People can feel ashamed or embarrassed about the fact that they met online. Others may feel scared or intimidated about meeting online strangers. Perhaps there is a fear because according to Statistics Canada, in 2008 approximately 23,000 incidents of dating violence were reported to police. There may be an intimidation factor because people tend to set their profile pictures as an image of a time when they looked flawless and fear the possibility of their date being disappointed when they see reality. Everyone has that one picture they love of themselves where the camera caught them looking their best with a great smile at the perfect angle. We use those pictures as our main images because as unfortunate as it is; looks matter to most people.

It’s also very easy to stretch the truth on your profile information. According to statistics found in a nypost.com article, men are approximately two inches shorter then what they publish in their profile while women are an inch shorter and 50 percent of daters lie about their weight. When it comes to revealing information about salary and income, their financial information is usually exaggerated by 20 percent.

Here’s an informative image full of online dating statistics.

With all of these negative conceptions, people are still surfing the web for love or sexual encounters. Greg Blatt, CEO of Match.com said the world has changed. Blatt says people get married older, work longer hours, move around more, and people are generally busier. He said these changes have put pressure on the way society traditionally have met their significant others. Blatt goes on to say that because of these changes, there is an increasing openness to doing new things. He said online dating has grown so much in part as a response to these societal changes and has become the third most important way we meet our significant others, even though it didn't even exist 15 years ago.

Though meeting significant others and spouses occur at a bigger percentage at work and school (36 percent) or through friends and family (26 percent) according to match.com, online dating (17 percent) has overtaken the bar scene during the past three years as only 11 percent of people have met their spouse at a club or social event.

Another dating website, plentyoffish.com claims that with over 135 million monthly visitors, they are the market leader in online dating. Plentyoffish says independent tracking firms Comscore.com and Hitwise.com report plentyoffish is the most visited dating site in the Northern America and the United Kingdom in 2010; not to mention membership is absolutely free.

But is free necessarily a good thing? Would a paid membership offer better results?

Plentyoffish claims that eharmony.ca charges its subscribers $49.99 every month which is a hefty price to pay if a user struggles to find love for an entire year. A year’s subscription would result in an annual bill of $599.88. However, eharmony says that the premium price will help users find meaningful high-quality matches. Eharmony claims that $49.99 a month will cost less than going on dates with people who may not be compatible with you. In theory, eharmony may have a point but that also depends on the type of dates you go on, not every date has to be a bank-buster. But in my own opinion there may be more merit in knowing someone is willing to fork out $49.99 a month to find love because that tells me a woman is serious about long-term relationships rather then a woman on a free dating site who may just be on it for an ego-booster.

If anyone signs up for any type of dating website there is safety and advice that should always be taken and followed. Plentyoffish says there is no substitute for acting with caution when communicating with any stranger who wants to meet you. Never include your last name, e-mail address, home address, phone number, place of work, or any other identifying information in your internet profile or initial e-mail messages. Stop communicating with anyone who pressures you for personal or financial information or attempts in any way to trick you into revealing it.

Plentyoffish also advises that if you choose to have a face-to-face meeting with another member, always tell someone in your family or a friend where you are going and when you will return. Never agree to be picked up at your home. Always provide your own transportation to and from your date and meet in a public place with many people around.

And let’s not forget that a date should be fun, whatever fun may be for those particular people.

Check out these ten great first date ideas on onlinedating.org for some suggestions if you’re stuck on what to do or where to go.

What's New in 2010...

2010-11-30T12:57:00.000-05:00

So after a brief taste of life working in a big boy job I find myself looking for employment once again! The experience working from home, freelance style was a lot of fun. Although things didn't turn out the way I had hoped, I am now excited to begin the next chapter.

What's also new is the fact I was able to re-obtain my G1 driver's license. So upon passing my G2 and working somewhere/anywhere I hope to buy a mode of transportation and open up several more doors t my future career path.

Let's face it, a car means freedom albeit an expensive freedom.

I am re-motivated and ready to grab life by the horns and get what I want, so here's to never giving up hope and keeping your chin up.

On a new project.

2010-05-13T16:55:00.000-04:00

This is just a new story idea I had randomly. Give it a read and let me know any thoughts and feelings on it.

The leaves changing in the cool autumn air relish the feeling of hatred within my broken soul. The trees change so quickly, and in all their awe and sheer beauty, I know that winter is immanent. From budding flowers, to a green array of summer glory, these leaves then go the distance to showcase nature’s fireworks. Yellow, red, purple and some green. Then as quickly as they change, they die. They fall from the outstretched boughs and freefall to the ground. Leaves take their time to land, they dance with the breeze and they float slowly down until they rest on the earth. They turn ugly brown on the ground. They go crispy and dirty. So we try to get rid of them on our lawns. Rake them, pile them, and then bag them up so nobody would even know they existed.

My awkward stare makes my wife feel uncomfortable. I’m not staring at her face; I’m not even looking at her direction. I can’t look away from the view, can’t look away from the trees. My house resides in a small valley. I have twenty-three acres of land that I do nothing with. My house is old, but trusting. We do not have neighbours because our house is secluded from society. My aged truck takes thirty minutes to get to the nearest gas station. My wife, Helen hates being so far away. She left everything for me. She has no friends, her family doesn’t write. I’m everything she has.

My wife turned forty-nine two months ago. She is bitter about living here, she is bitter with me. Her eyes have begun to sink, and grey hairs litter her head. Helen’s breasts sag and she gains weight each month. She gave up on make-up years ago because she doesn’t have anyone to impress, especially not me. She talks to the dog, Russel. I haven’t heard good morning in years. She cooks me dinners but they taste empty. We sleep in separate rooms and we rarely smile. We’ve acted this way for so long that now it just feels natural. The awkwardness faded long ago and now any happiness feels weird.

Its early morning and I haven’t showered or shaved nor do I plan to. We’re on the back porch and I have a steaming cup of coffee in my hands that my wife made. Helen is sitting on the porch swing, still looking at me with suspicion. The morning rays are golden and there’s a bed of fog lying among the dewy grass. I can feel the moisture in the air.

My name is Jed. I’m sixty-one and feel like nothing could ever shock me anymore. I’ve seen everything and I’ve heard it all. I’m retired because I couldn’t handle the emptiness of the city. The adrenaline rush eluded me and I could care less about the team work. I used to do it to contribute to society. I used to care for the people who needed me but not anymore. People just annoy me now whether they are healthy or sick. I saved and lost lives as a paramedic. I’ve become so desensitized from blood and guts that I almost miss seeing it. Blood splattered on the pavement let me know I wasn’t living a dream- it brought reality to my life. Especially near the end of my career because my wife and I had stopped loving each other, so my home life felt dull and empty. I lived the nightlife, well worked it mostly. Helen stayed at home and took care of the house. Our marriage never had a chance, not even from the beginning. Helen wanted to have children and I did not. Within the first year of our marriage she convinced me to try for at least one but her heart was broken by our doctor when he told her she was unable to carry a child. That’s when her resentment towards me began. She blamed my negativity on her dilemma. I was glad. As the years passed she became bitter and cold and in return, I resented her for wasting my time. Helen and I moved out here to the country two years ago. We moved to rekindle our marriage, but it only made things worse. Her family still lives in the city. One of her brothers is in a home. I know she would love to visit him but I can’t stand the city anymore, I refuse to take her. I know she would go on her own if she could drive, but she wouldn’t know how to steer out of the garage and there isn’t a chance in hell I will ever teach her. I know that if she left now she would never return.

There’s nothing warm about our house, the family pictures are fake with smiles and the paint is flat. We keep the radio on to break the silence, but the radio isn’t playing now, the beautiful silence is all I hear.

I have salt and pepper hair that I swoop to the side. My bushy side burns are white but I like how they feel so I never shave them off. My face is narrow and chiseled. My eyes are deep set and empty. I haven’t recognized myself in the mirror since God knows when. I wear rugged older clothing most of the time Plaid jackets, red and black like the one I have on now. I like tight fitting jeans and hiking boots for when I walk about my property with Russel. Russel is a German Sheppard and has been a loyal companion for about ten years now. He’s sitting beside me and he’s looking at me oddly, like my wife continues to do. I look down to match his eyes and say nothing. It’s too early to speak, too early to do anything but drink my coffee and gaze out into the distance.

As I look back upon the trees, I hear Helen get up from the porch swing and walk inside. The creaks from the old wooden planks follow her to the door. Russel follows her inside. I smile as I’m finally alone with my thoughts again. My thoughts have kept me company for so long now it’s the only voice I can trust. I hear Helen click the radio on, and the silence is gone. She did it because she knows how much I love silence. A strong radio voice, deep with composure and mixed a sense of sternness and professionalism speaks out.

"Police have been patrolling the city today as they prepare to control gathering crowds outside of city hall. A recent outbreak of an unidentified bacterial strand has infected hundreds of citizens in the area and appears to be spreading quickly. It is reported that doctors are scrambling to test the strand to discover its origin and full impact on-"

The radio voice is cut-off as Helen switches the station to music that feels calming; I can’t stand to listen to the news anymore. I’m surprised she changed the station because I know she knows how much I hate the news. My life is depressing enough as it is. I don’t need to hear about how the government is letting us down and the fluffy stories of hope and encouragement make me cringe. I lean forward against the railing. My coffee is still in my hands and it is losing heat with every passing second. My skinny arms press into the aging wood before me. My left leg crosses behind the right and I stick my neck forward and continue to gaze out. The music continues to pour out of the old radio and my day has officially begun.

Here we go again, I think to myself.

On the NHL 2010 Eastern Conference Play-Off predictions.

2010-04-12T22:33:00.002-04:00

Eastern Conference

Washington Capitals (1) vs. Montreal Canadiens (8)

I’m definitely pumped for this match-up because of the speed that is sure to be show-cased here. I expect to see tons of odd man rushes from both sides and a lot of flashy saves.

Will it be rough and grinding? No, it will be fun, fast and a lot of scoring.

I can count on watching Jaroslav Halak take the first game, but if things don’t go in the Habs favor I can also count on seeing Carey Price start at some point as well.

Washington is almost one-hundred percent healthy, minus Milan Jurcina, I think they will survive without him.

With that said there’s a whole lot of fire power, obviously from Alex Ovechkin but with the likes of Nicklas Backstrom, Alexander Semin and Mike Green, count on seeing a lot of power-play action from this pack.

However, Montreal’s power-play might struggle with the absence of Glen Metropolit, who led the team in PP goals.

Unless Mike Cammallerie can resurrect his scoring touch and Scott Gomez and Brain Gionta can continue their recent scoring success, they will have their hands ridiculously full.

The Captials goaltending is also interesting and I am not certain who their starter will be, but if I were a betting man I’d probably put my money towards Jose Theodore, who should also expect a chorus of boo’s in the Canadiens home show.

Goals will come mainly from broken plays and power-plays no doubt. The team with the fewest turn-overs may take the series victory.

Washington and Montreal split the season series, each taking five of eight points.

Prediction: Caps in 6 (Halak will steal 2 games almost single handedly.)

New Jersey Devils (2) vs. Philadelphia Flyers (7)

As a Flyers fan, it’s extremely hard not to be bias on this one but I can at least be realistic. It’s going to be an all out war.

Throw in their storied rivalry with skill and speed and you have one heck of a must-see play-off series.

Lets get the big elephant in the room out of the way right now. Brian Boucher will make or break this series.

Fun Fact: This is a goalie rematch between Boucher and Martin Brodeur from the 2000 Eastern Conference final.

Since then Boucher has played in several different teams all as a back-up.

On the other side, there is possibly the best goalie ever to play the position. Brodeur has set a ridiculous amount of records, owns a pair of championship rings and has won two Olympic gold medals.

The Devils made the biggest splash signing Ilya Kovalchuk but he hasn’t quite given them all they have hoped for.

If he evolves into a play-off warrior then chances are the Devils will get the strong upper-hand in the series.

Zach Parise, anyone? Bueller?

This man is shockingly talented and still has room for improvement. He’s a beast and will be the Devils game-breaker. Parise loves spring hockey and you can bet he’ll try to set some personal bests.

But let’s not completely count the Flyers out. They do own one of the leagues most potent top six forwards of any team, but that’s only when they are rolling.

Several times through-out the season the Flyers had too many games with-out the finishing touches.

Even still, which goalie honestly wants to face Jeff Carter and Mike Richards on either the Power-Play or the Penalty-Kill?

They both explode and crave one-on-one opportunities and both know how to finish.

Chris Pronger was brought to the Flyers for this reason alone. He shuts down and controls tempo in the play-offs.

Expect this to be bloody, hard nosed hockey with a splash of dazzling plays.

The Flyers finished 5-1-0 against the Devils.

Prediction: Flyers in 7. (I told you it would be biased)

Buffalo Sabres (3) vs. Boston Bruins (6)

Intriguing to say the least.

Both teams have felt the injury bug and both teams have solid goaltending. Both teams can stick around in games they shouldn’t, and both teams are frustrating to play against.

The edge in goaltending goes to Buffalo no doubt. Ryan Miller has been solid for years now and even took Team USA to a thrilling Olympic silver medal finish against Team Canada.

Miller has carried this team night in and night out for much of the season.

Tuuka Rask has been incredible in his rookie year but that is where it comes down to.

Experience.

Although Tim Thomas could take over easily if Rask comes up short but even Thomas has struggled this year coming off his Vezina trophy winning season a year ago.

Thomas Vanek has scored the quietest 28 goals I’ve ever seen this year and he will be a major factor in this series along with Derek Roy and Tim Connolly.

The Sabres have been thrilled in the response of rookie defenseman Tyler Myers, leading all rookies in the bid for the Calder Trophy.

Boston has deeply missed Phil Kessel’s 40-plus goal performance last year as he now plays golf for Toronto.

Their biggest scoring threat came from Marco Sturm, 22 goals, nothing to shake a stick at. Bergeron came close behind with 19.

The biggest reason that the Bruins may falter in the opening round is the absence of Marc Savard.

Arguably the most under-rated forward in the league, he took a gut-less cheap shot from Matt Cooke and had his season ended short, possibly even his career.

Their game breaker will be Zdeno Chara, but even Chara isn’t Chara these days. Broken nose and pinky finger apart, he isn’t playing one-hundred percent at all.

Boston went 4-2-0 against the Sabres.

Prediction: Sabres in 5. (Miller will frustrate them Sens-less.)

Pittsburgh Penguins (4) vs. Ottawa Senetors (5)

Well let’s see. The Penguins are the defending champs. Sidney Crosby tied with Steven Stamkos of the Tampa Bay Lightning for the season scoring title (51) and Evengi Malkin and Jordan Staal have continued with their successful ways.

Who loves play-off pressure? Bill Guerin. He’s a game-changer and scores big goals when his team needs them most.

Not to mention Marc-Andre Fleury can shut down a game or two.

Monies in the bag, right?

Well, hold on a minute.

The Sens have overcome a lot of diversity already this season.

Right off the bat, losing Danny Heatly who demanded to get out of Ottawa, things looked bleak. But as time proved to differ, the Sens won a franchise best, eleven straight games.

Brian Elliott stepped up when goaltender, Pascal Leclair did not and Jason Spezza over came a terrible injury to return in a fresh and positive manner.

Daniel Alfredsson continues to prove why he captains this team and will be a force to control.

All things considered, the Sens are still facing the reigning champs and will have more then they can handle from the Penguins offensive juggernauts to their grind-it-out key pieces to the Penguin puzzle to the consistent play-off net-minding.

Prediction: Pens sweep Sens in 4. (I’m just feeling a sweep here.)

On 2010 Paralympics?

2010-03-22T11:30:00.000-04:00

With the 2010 Paralympics closing yesterday, I felt a need to get something off my chest.

I mean no disrespect to any of our athletes or Canada, but am I the only one who didn't care that the Canadian men's sledge hockey team finished fourth? Or that Team USA beat... Japan for the gold?

Don't get me wrong, I totally respect that sport and the amount of skill and training that would go into it.

There is no way I could ever succeed at slegde hockey. It's ridiculous what those athletes can do but still I find myself not upset about a 4th place finish.

If the Men or Women's ice hockey team finished fourth in Vancouver, that would've turned our entire nation upside down... not to mention if Japan had even qualified let alone finishing second.

I even watched some of the ice dance competition, I watched a full match of curling! But yet couldn't even bother to turn on one single event last week.

Why is it that as a country we were so united and proud of all our athletes in the first Vancouver 2010 games and then when it came to the paralympics two weeks later, I heard next to nothing about it?

Those athletes train and compete just as hard as the other athletes, so why did they get less attention and support?

All of our para-athletes deserve much more respect and support then what I've given them and I hope some of these questions will be answered.

Anyways, until next time I'll leave you with a simple rule I was taught growing up. Do onto others as you would want in return.

On Dreams.

2010-03-03T16:44:00.000-05:00

Take them for what they are, dreams.

Good, bad, happy and sad our dreams can be inspiring, traumatizing and even mesmerizing.

I've often toyed with the idea of keeping a dream blog but it's a lot easier said then done. I forget most of my dreams shortly before finishing brushing my teeth.

You can pick apart every dream you have, determine their meanings but for me I would just like to keep them the way they are. A 7-8 hour escape from reality.

I have a reoccurring dream of my teeth falling out of my mouth. I've heard this could mean anything from financial stress to feeling powerless, although money and power often go hand in hand.

Some nights I go without dreaming anything at all, and some nights when I wake up every couple of hours I go through hundreds but only retain a memory of a few.

You can have vivid dreams of people you know or complete strangers. I find the dreams of complete strangers absolutely fascinating when you can put them into such detail in your mind.

Has anyone ever had a sense of deja-vu where you are absolutely positive you have dreamt the situation you are living out?

Deja-vu is not foreign to me at all. I experience it at least 4 times a month and I'm about ninety-seven percent sure it has nothing to do with a complication in the Matrix. I will keep you all posted if I ever see agents running through my house.

The thing I like most about deja-vu is that mixed feeling of paranoia and mysticism and then when people are looking at you funny because you have completely stopped whatever it was you were doing to capture that moment.

Anyways, random blog yes but maybe this can spark some discussion. I'd like to hear some stories or share some dreams with me.

Until next time, sweet dreams and happy bloggings.

On his top 20 acoustic jams.

2010-02-09T13:31:00.002-05:00

Here's a list of the top twenty acoustic songs I listen to in no particular order.

20. Sunsets and Car Crashes - The Spill Canvas

19. Stumbliene - The Smashing Pumpkins

18. Tiger Mountain Peasant Song - Fleet Foxes

17. Ahead By A Century - The Tragically Hip

16. Hello, I'm in Delaware - City and Colour

15. Gimmie Sympathy - Metric

14. Best of You - Foo Fighters

13. The '59 Sound - Gaslight Anthem

12. A Lack of Color - Death Cab For Cutie

11. If it Means A lot to You - A Day To Remember

10. Drifting - Andy Mckee

9. Classical Gas - Eric Clapton

8. Come As You Are - Nirvana

7. Wonderwall - Oasis

6. I'll Follow the Sun - The Beatles

5. I Will Follow you Into the Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

4. Name - The Goo Goo Dolls

3. The Wolves (Act I and II) - Bon Iver

2. Rose March - The Smashing Pumpkins

1. Everlong - Foo Fighters

On an untitled story. (Chapter Three)

2010-02-05T14:07:00.000-05:00

Chapter Three

The sun is blinding me into a fit of confusion as I am waking up. Sitting against a tree I exhale heavily and blink several times as I see Courtney sitting beside me. She was staring with a weird look upon her face.

“Do you always pout when you sleep?” Her sarcasm rang straight through to my ears. I smiled bashfully and gave her a soft shove on her arm with my open left hand as I wipe my eyes with the other.

“And cute braces too?” She laughed as she asked. Her compliment made my smile grow wider as I reply,

“I’m feeling so out of it, how long have you been sitting here?” She laughs at me again and leans hard into my shoulder as we sit with our backs against the tree.

“Not long really, I didn’t want to startle you like my dumb dog did so I just thought I’d sit for a bit until you finally woke up.” She put a flirty emphasis on the word, finally, which was really cute.

“Yeah that was kind of scary, I’m not going to lie.” I knew that sounded nerdy in my head but it was too late to take it back.

“He’s harmless; Percy just gets so excited when he sees new people. He took it over the edge though,” she said. We didn’t look at each other when we spoke; we just kept looking at the ground and our feet. Every now and then she would gently bump her foot against mine and I would return the favour.

She was wearing a white spaghetti string top that showed off her slim tan arms and had blue yoga pants. She sat with her arms wrapped around her thighs. Her chin rested on her knees. Her hair was tied into a pony on the back of her head and she was wearing white runners. Every now and then I would zone out because her aroma was intoxicating. Whatever it was that she was wearing had hypnotized all of my senses.

Courtney jumped to her feet and quickly grabbed my hands. Before I knew it I was standing to face-to-face with her and then as quickly as she grabbed my hands she let them go and started to run. She motioned me to follow her as she turned and ran backwards for a few feet, smiling in the process.

Seeing as how I wasn’t one hundred percent awake I stumbled a bit on the crumbled road as I began to run after her.

She had run towards the Mr. General’s but she didn’t go inside. She ran around the back of the store and across the rear parking lot towards the surrounding forest. I followed her down a skinny biking trail. Courtney was a good 10 yards ahead of me and she seemed to know where she was going. I had no clue. I’ve been on this path hundreds of times with Mike.

The path was mostly downhill and steep. Round stones and roots made running difficult but I was able to keep up with her for the most part.

“Come on, we’re almost there, just a little further!” Courtney yelled.

“We’re… almost… where?” I barley managed to yell it out.

“You’ll see! Just hurry up! It’s almost too late!” she yelled back. The forest became thicker with branches and brush and I kept getting pieces of sticky cobweb into my hair. The air was tight and I struggled to breathe as I continued down the tricky path. Courtney was out of my sight now but I just kept running, paying close attention to where my feet were landing so I didn’t fall. I couldn’t even see into the forest on either side of the path. The forest was dark and little rays of sun made it through the leaves.

As I leaped and bounded over several larger rocks and roots I realized she was leading me towards the river. It was so humid now that I thought it’d be nice to get closer to some water. I could hear the rapids now as the forest began to open up a little more and the sunlight made things much brighter now that I had reached the riverbed.

We came to a place where the river forked off into two directions, and I could hear Courtney now further down the trail as she had stepped on some branches. The snapping echoed into the forest. The blue sky above started to look a little dull as the sun was beginning to set. I stopped to catch my breath and looked at the scenery.

It was like a painting. The island in the middle of the riverways has dead trees stretching out of the ground and tall grass thickly immersed together. The left side of the river is full of rapids and the right side, where I am about to follow, is calmer.

I wipe my sweaty face with my shirt sleeve and began to run again. I couldn’t hear Courtney anymore as I trudged along the broken path. As I move further down the path the water became rough again and the rapids are loud. The path ran close to the water’s edge and I could feel the splashing rapids a they fought along the jagged rocks guarding the pathway. The path ahead turned left and the forest was so thick that I couldn’t see what was on the other side of the bend.

As I rounded the sharp turn I find Courtney sitting on a rock staring at a waterfall. It was loud and the water was fast. A foggy mist rose from the rapids at the bottom of the falls and the air was moist. Courtney turned her head around greeted me with a smile as she sat playing with her pony tail in her hands. Her face was sweaty and her cheeks are red from the run. I walked to her and just as I was about to say hello she said,

“I love it.” Her statement was true. The falls has always been a fun place to visit. Mike and I would often bring our fishing gear here and it was always deserted.

“I found this path as soon as we got here. I followed it to this point yesterday and fell in love with it.” She spoke softly and never looked away from the water as she speaks.

“I feel at peace here,” she looked away from the water finally and into my eyes, “It gets better.” She stood up from the boulder she sat on and took my sweaty hand into hers once again. Her grip was gentle but confident. As she led me towards the falls she looked back at me and smiled again with a playful look. My arm stretched out to meet hers and I walked but couldn’t feel my steps as my heart was racing. I had no idea why she was leading me closer and closer and we both became soaked.

I watched her step up onto a giant boulder and her grip tightened onto my hand as she fought for her balance. And then with one more step she vanished behind the falls and let go of my hand. The sound of the pounding water deafened my ears and water streamed over my hair and face as I followed behind her and to my amazement; a cave was behind the curtain of water.

It was dark and cold, and the cave flickered with sunlight as it rippled through the waterfall creating prisms of light along the walls. We couldn’t hear each other at all as we both tried to yell at each other. Courtney laughed and stepped closer to me and put her cheek against mine and yelled into my ear,

“Isn’t it wonderful?” I laughed as I stepped back slightly to look into her eyes again and nodded my head. I grabbed her hands this time and she smiled into my eyes. My stomach was turning inside, and I felt shaky. I pulled her into my body and we held each other for the first time as we looked through the falls in front of us. The moment was there and I held onto it with everything I had. I finally found some adventure in this old town. Her head nestled into my shoulder and her waist was pressed against mine. My arms wrapped around her body and we clasped hands interlocking them in front. Her wet hair didn’t bother my face at all as I rested my cheek onto her head. I wasn’t sure what exactly was happening between us at that moment. We seemed to be lost in time and everything felt right. I lowered my head down to her ear so I could say,

“Genesis.”

She looked up at me with a smile and in that moment, I kissed her.

The feelings took control and the butterflies intensified. It was surprising and the fact I even knew how to kiss a girl mystified me. But there we were.

In a beautiful moment, the world had disappeared and only Courtney and I existed inside that dark, cold cave holding onto something we would not forget in a very long time.

On an untitled story. (Chapter Two)

2010-01-28T13:24:00.001-05:00

Chapter Two

Some men wearing blue track suits and lifting belts with brown shoulder straps are yelling profanities at each other as they unload the truck that drove past earlier. I run cautiously towards it and hide behind a huge oak tree and bury myself into some tall grass that instantly itches my skin. The truck belongs to a moving crew who are setting up floodlights on the pathway to the house because the sun is slowly dropping behind the horizon, making the sky a pale purplish grey. My ears are deafened by the truck’s idling engine and the exhaust fumes are exasperating the clean air. The dark blue truck is covered in mud and the tires are in need of some air. I watch closely as the movers struggle with a giant dresser in the back of the truck. There is one standing below the truck as the other one is inside and lowers the dresser. An awkward crack erupts from the dresser base as it bumps the ground. The movers both put their hands over the heads and exhale at the exact same time.

In the front of the house, there are two white doors and they are surrounded by dark red brick. The four windows on either side of the doors are mammoth but could use some fresh paint. Massive untrimmed bushes grow along the base of the house, many of the ends are brown and yellowish green. Several cracked wooden steps lead to an empty porch covered with empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, dead leaves and dirt. A black fly buzzes in and around my ears as I watch more furniture moving in. It’s hard to tell from the darkness and my view from the tree but I see a lot of furniture inside the truck.

I creep towards the house when the movers are distracted and push my body through the bushes, smelling it’s sweet fragrance. I grab onto the base and peer into a dusty window, I can‘t see anything. I use my sleeve to wipe away some of the grime and I see shadowy figures moving about. All I can really see is a large figure moving inside, it looks to be unpacking from a box, but I’m not certain because there are no lights turned on. A bottle appears to be in the left hand of the shadow and I can see smoke billowing from a cigarette in the right.

Suddenly my heart skips and my body tenses as I hear an angry growl and quick footsteps running behind me but before I can react my body is pushed to the ground and my breath is knocked from my lungs. I lay helplessly on my back and all I can smell is the beast’s disgusting breath. I almost puke when my face is covered by a big wet tongue. A dog has attacked me but I can’t make out the breed because of the night sky. As my hands fight the monster’s face off of mine the animal is suddenly yanked off my chest and my lungs fill with air. My eyes are squeezed shut and my fists are clenched ready to fight. But when I open my eyes I see my rescuer is kneeling beside my crumpled body. As one of the floodlights lights up a face, I see a girl, a teenage girl.

I stare blankly at her. There’s a brief silence between us as we look at each other. She has black hair that parts in the middle of her forehead and flows down to her shoulders. Her hair perfectly frames her face. Her brown eyes are full with long black eyelashes and her cute nose runs down to meet her plush pink lips that are now smiling, revealing her perfectly white teeth. She is breathtaking.

“I’m really sorry,” she finally says. “Percy gets to be a little aggressive sometimes, God I hope you are okay, she didn’t bite you did she?" She spoke quickly and pushes her hair behind her left ear with her hand. I notice that her face blushes red whenever she looks into my eyes. I am simply lost in hers. She brushes dirt off my shoulders, and the initial contact gives me a jolt of electricity. The girl helps me up to my feet but I just continue to stare at her, not blinking once.

“I’m really sorry, my name is Courtney, what’s yours?” she asks. I begin to search for the words but there are none. Words were non-existent. My mouth is dry and my tongue feels swollen, all I can taste is stale saliva. I take a breath and the front door opens quickly with a creek and a deep voice calls Courtney to dinner. She apologizes again and tells me to meet her at Mr. General’s Store tomorrow at noon. With a flashy smile, Courtney takes off with my heart and she rounds the corner of the house and I listen as her footsteps leap up the stairs to the porch. I still can’t blink until the door slams shut. I rub my face with my dirty sleeve and shake my head as I mumble under my breath,

“Genesis.”

----------------------------------------------------

As I walk through the front door to my home, I see my mom is busy making lots of noise in the kitchen. There are pots and pans all over the counter. Empty packages lay on the counter and some on the floor. The tap is running water and my mom is cutting up vegetables with a huge knife on a cutting board. My mom is a natural looking woman with straight brown hair that she has tied into a mess in the back of her head. Her skin is tan and she has a warm smile when I haven’t done anything to piss her off. She has a round face and her eyes are brown and aged with crow’s feet. She never wears make-up and only smells like fresh laundry. She’s about five foot-six and my arms are full when I hug her. She’s wearing an old yellow t-shirt with a tabby cat on the front and dark blue track pants.

My mom is as tough as they come, I have never seen her cry. She once slapped me across the face when I was eleven because I had stolen candy from The General. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes after she did it. I just remember sitting on my bed stunned from the impact of her hand on my cheek. It stung so badly, my eyes watered and my cheek had an outline of her fingers for hours. She stuck the hand she slapped me with inside her hair and wore a bizarre look of anger, guilt, and sadness upon her face. There was such an awkward silence which seemed to drag on for three hours and we just looked into each others eyes after the contact, not sure what to say. My mom apologized that night in her own special way by feeding me banana pancakes at dinner for the first and only time.

The house smells like spaghetti sauce and the air is muggy inside because of all the cooking she has done. From out of the corner of my eye I see a four-foot-five blonde run into the living room. It’s my little brother, Matthew. We get along sometimes but most times he is a pest. He has big baby blue eyes like mine and fine blonde hair that our mom always combed over. He’s missing a couple of teeth and he usually has some sort of mess on his face, today it looks like chocolate. Matthew looked a lot like my dad and people always told my mother his eyes are shocking because of the similarities.

Matthew just finished the first grade. My mom wasn’t too impressed this year when she went to his classroom and discovered his desk was attached to the teacher‘s. His teacher said he was a distraction to his classmates so the only way she could contain him was to have him sit beside her desk at all times. My brother screamed after a good spanking that night when they got home. I felt kind of sorry for him until I heard that he was being a brat. He even had to go to these bad behaviour classes which is where all the children with attention problems went. He had a chart taped to his desk with all the days of the school week on it. If he behaved well on Monday, he would get a sticker placed into the Monday box. Every Friday they had to report to their behaviour teacher and show how their behaviour was each week. If they were good, they were allowed to go outside and play for half an hour. I could always tell when he had a good week because my mom would bake chocolate chip cookies every Friday. If there were none, I knew he was having a bad week.

Our house is pretty simple. At the front door there are stairs to the left of the entrance against the wall. The stairs lead to three second floor bedrooms and a bathroom. The kitchen is directly to the right of the front door and has two entrances. One, from the main hallway in the front directly beside the front door and the other kitchen entrance is from the living room at the back of the house. It’s a bungalow so there are only so many places we can go to escape each other. The basement is always cold and dusty. Old creaky stairs let everyone know when someone is going down. There is an aging carpet in the basement that used to be orange at some point in time and it was curling up at all corners of the walls. I hated that basement when I was little because it was always so quiet until the freezer turned on it made such an odd sound that gave me the creeps.

My mom slams the tap off and turns around with a disgusted look on her face.

“Why are you so filthy?” My mom asked. I look at the dust on my sleeves and the stains on my pants and smile as it reminds me of Courtney. Before I can even answer my mom turns around and faces away from me once again, shaking her head as she turns the tap back on and yells,

“So what? I’m supposed to buy you new clothes every month?” I can tell this is rhetorical so I keep quiet. She shakes water from a leaf of lettuce into the sink and quietly says.

“Go wash up, dinner is almost ready, be more careful next time Genesis, we don’t have money just for your well being.” This is a line I hear almost five times a week, but we always seem to fill the fridge with food and keep the lights on, so we must be doing ok.

When I return to the table I see roast beef in the middle of the dinner table on a fancy white platter. The beef is surrounded by other plates consisting of mashed potatoes, steamed carrots and cooked peas. A woven basket is filled with dinner rolls and the gravy is right beside my spot at the table. As I sit into my chair I grab a glass of milk and drink it as quickly as I can, my throat was still dry. During dinner, I tell my mom about the new family that moved in and I go on about Courtney like I’ve known her for years. My mom stays quiet and doesn’t say much, I just get the occasional head nod and smile. Matthew looks to be lost inside some kind of fantasy world in his head and plays with his peas and potatoes. His hand is resting on the side of his face and he is mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

After dinner, I do some of my chores which always include a mass amount of dishes and I’m endlessly cleaning up the table. Matthew tries to help out some days but he usually just gets in my way so I send him off to play tonight which seems to be perfectly fine with him. Afterwards, I walk out to the front porch, the air was chilly and smelled of freshly cut grass. The sky is dark except for the silver light from the moon which looked small tonight. For the first time in the last few hours, Courtney isn’t on my mind, my father is. When I was eight years old, my father died at the coal mine, where most of the men in the town used to work. It was a freak accident where one of the mine-shafts collapsed and my dad was trapped. Our pastor tried to comfort me by saying he didn’t suffer and his death was quick. He said something else about him being with God, but for some reason I can’t help but think it was a painful death. The entire town went to the funeral and I felt a sense of belonging. Women would hug me and the men would rub my head or squeeze my arm.

“Chin up.” One man said. It comforted me for some reason. Looking at my father for the last time in the casket didn’t mean much to me then, but I wish I could see him one more time. I was old enough to understand death but too young to grasp the true meaning of a funeral. They closed the mines for good after the accident and put a memorial for him beside the old entrance. The memorial was a huge rock with his face etched into the stone and a passage from the Bible was written underneath. My mom has a picture framed on the wall of all of us standing beside the memorial, I was smiling for some reason.

I reach down and feel for the inscription my father had carved on the rocker I‘m now sitting in. Dad carved my mother’s and his own initials under the seat when they bought it. My mother was angry at first because she felt the chair was ruined but when she realised his intentions were good, she embraced it. It always makes me feel like dad is with me when I sit in this chair and drag my fingers over the inscription. The chair is dark brown and has four pegs in the back with a thick head rest and heart shapes carved in the middle with vines. The varnish is fading and there are several chips missing in the seat. The arm rests curl downward at the ends and a soothing creak escapes from the chair when anyone sits in it. Tears begin to sting my eyes as I think about the only memories I have of him and I rest my head on my hand as I rock slowly back and forth. I’m thinking about the memory I love most about my dad while June bugs buzz around the porch light.

My father would always come home so filthy and dark from the mines. When he stepped, small clouds of dust would float from the fabric of his work uniform. He looked like someone completely different to me. If it wasn’t for the blue eyes that glowed past the soot, I probably would have ran away. After he showered and cleaned himself up, he finally looked like dad again. He would chase me around the yard, scoop me up and throw me high into the air. When I was briefly floating, I would always feel so free and I always knew dad would be there to catch my fall, and he would every time. His catch was always gentle and he never squeezed me too hard. But that night on the front porch when mom told me that he had died, I blacked out and fell backwards into the rocker. That is why the chair means so much to me; it is the one thing that I feel peace in. I stand up from the rocker and go upstairs to my dark room.

It’s always humid at night in the summer time so I usually have a fan plugged into my wall across from my bed. My room is dark blue and filled with posters of different movies and bands. My dresser is cluttered with a mess on top and my floor is home to missing socks and baseball cards. As soon as I enter, tears pour uncontrollably from my stinging eyes. I lay on top of the blue covers on my bed with my arms wrapped tightly around the white fluffy pillows, softly sniffling and eventually fall asleep while I think of dad.

--------------------------------------------------

I wake up with the sun shining at me through my bedroom window. The shutters cast funny shadows across my bed and a slight breeze makes the air a bit cool. I love to see a blue sky in the morning, such positive energy comes from it. Courtney is back in my thoughts. Her hair, her eyes and of course her smile. I eventually roll out of bed after several minutes I use to wake-up and notice only one sock remains on my foot. I must’ve fallen asleep pretty quickly because I usually can’t stand the feeling of wearing socks to bed. I look into my bedroom mirror above my dresser and notice my hair is a complete disaster. I kind of smile and scratch my head and walk over to my closet to put on some clean clothes. I throw on some blue jeans and a black t-shirt. I comb my hair to make it somewhat presentable. I leave my room and go into the bathroom that’s a few feet away. The tiled floor feels cold on my bare feet as I relieve my bladder into the toilet bowl. Sometimes nothing can beat the feeling of a good piss when you really have to go. My extremities tingle as I finally finish and zip up.

My mouth tastes exactly the way it should when someone forgets to brush their teeth the night before so I decide to head downstairs and eat something to get the taste out of my mouth. After breakfast with Matthew and mom, I eventually make my way to a huge elm tree in front of Mr. General’s. As I wait, I stare at people going about their business. I love to people watch, I could do it all day, I always make up stories in my head about what they are doing and where they are going. I see on older man walking into the store with a cane.

Mike walked past the store and noticed me standing alone in the shade. We looked really similar. He is tall and skinny with dark shaggy hair but he has a five o’clock shadow forming above his upper lip that makes him look a bit older than me. The first time we met was during summer vacation when we were six. He was playing with a toy dump truck outside of my house on our lawn so I walked over with a bucket of sand from the sandbox in our backyard and poured it all over his toy. I thought I was helping, he thought I was mean. The rest was history though, we hung out every summer after that day and our parents became really close too.

I ask him how life is and he shrugs his shoulders. Not too much was said because I wanted him to leave before Courtney showed up. I wasn’t really sure how to say that to Mike so I kept my sentences short with him, hoping he would pick up my hint. We briefly talked about school and he mentioned he saw the moving truck yesterday but I didn’t want to tell him about Courtney. I wasn’t going to say anything until I actually talked to her. Mike is quite the charmer despite the lack of women in town. Talking to girls comes natural to him and that is something I have always been jealous of. Mike finally tells me he is off to his aunt’s house and had to head home. I wave goodbye to Mike as he quickly walks down the road and disappears as he rounds the corner.

I look around hoping to see Courtney in the distance but all I can see is a few people and the old man with the cane now heading out of Mr. General’s with bags. I sit down and rest my back against the tree, feeling the bark dig into my back and parts of the sun gleam onto my skin. There are a few roots popping up from the ground around me and I can see ants everywhere. I smell the fresh air as a few clouds were rolling through the sky with a gentle breeze. My eyes are heavy and I eventually give in and fall asleep. I might’ve slept for hours if it wasn’t for the bird chirping above me on a branch. I rub my tired eyes and yawn as my legs stretch out. As I stand from the tree I look down to my watch to see what time it is. It was later then I thought. A turning in my stomach put thoughts into my head. Semi-lost in a day dream I look up to see the General heading my way from his store. The General is an old man who works at the General Store and has been there for as long as I can remember. His love for children is evident by the amount of candy he gives them. He’s short and his head is balding into a horseshoe pattern, which seems to be a very common hairstyle in this town. He usually wears plaid shirts underneath his bright red suspenders to help keep his forest green trousers on his bony old hips. I don’t think I even know the General’s real name.

He had something brightly coloured in his hands and he was smiling at me. He has a slight limp to his step as he crosses the road and he pushes his glasses up with his hand as he reaches out to give me candy.

“That there my boy, is the best candy you’ll ever put past your lips! Tell your friends!” He gives me a wink with his old eye and turns back towards the store, looking both ways before he crosses the road once more. I open the noisy candy wrapper which attracts some attention from a nearby squirrel and put the bright yellow candy into my mouth. Instantly I feel a crackling sensation and my mouth felt like it was foaming with sour flavour. My lips are pursed and I begin to hop around on one foot as the candy was very strong, spit was dribbling from the corner of my mouth and I make a loud slurping sound as I suck it back in.

My attention was focused back onto my watch as the sourness eventually fades and my stomach kept turning, but it wasn’t from the candy. I felt sweat trickling on my back, but it wasn’t hot. I kick stones on the road in front of the tree and pace. The sky was starting to dim and another vibrant sunset was taking place. My stomach is telling me it must be close to dinner time so I decide to head home and return for a little bit longer afterwards. The sky suddenly seemed a lot darker. Birds were flying from tree to tree in a weird manner and I thought that perhaps a storm was heading this way. The air felt chilly and moist.

I didn’t take my time, I wanted to eat quickly and return before the rain came so I walked as quickly as I could until I finally reached my house. My house has a garden of different coloured flowers in front of the porch. It is as old as every other house in the town. The bricks are dark brown and the window shutters are worn and the blue paint is chipped and fading. Hydro wires strung from the roof connected with the hydro pole across the street. There were usually birds perched on this wire but they aren’t there tonight. I climb the wooden stairs of the porch and walk past dad’s chair to reach for the screen door. It creeks loudly as I open it and step inside to call for my mom.

“Mom!” I stand and listen to silence.

“Mom, where are you?” Silence still.

“Mom!” I yell once more and open the door to the basement to see light dimly escaping the clutching darkness.

“I’m downstairs.” Mom was in the basement. I walk down the stairs and they creak loudly beneath my feet. She’s sitting alone on the old brown couch that’s in the middle of the basement. I walk over to her with my face furrowed.

“Are you ok?” I ask as I sit beside her. The couch is surrounded by boxes and metal shelving. A single bulb is fastened to the ceiling above us and a metal strings dangles from it.

“You never sit in the basement alone,” I tell her. My Mom shared my hated for basements. She told me once that she always felt like someone was watching her when she was alone down here. I didn’t grasp the meaning of what she said until I was a little older. Mom looked at me with a weird look on her face, but it was a familiar look.

In my peripheral vision I saw the wall moving slowly, the cement walls were beginning to melt. I sat still but I sat in awe, my hands were still and my mom turned to see what I was looking at. A natural warmth developed into my stomach and a calmness shadowed the couch. The basement evolved into a funeral home. The room was dark with the only light source illuminating from the hundreds of lit candles on the stage. The candles surrounded the casket and they are white and red; all perched on black iron holders that twisted to the floor. The couch vanishes and my Mom is now sitting in one of the pews near the front. I stand alone in the back entrance. The calmness never leaves my stomach and my breath is slow. The stage is glowing orange and thousands of flowers litter the floor surrounding the casket. The smell of roses and candles embrace the entire room. I close my eyes slowly and breath it in. I feel compelled to walk into the room, compelled to see Courtney one last time. The calmness is starting to turn into anxiety, my legs are wobbly, my feet are slow and my hands are sweaty. My jaw is clenched to fight the tears in my eyes. I walk slowly down the single aisle of the room, there are candles at the entrance of each row. Fifteen rows of wooden pews each filled with blurry silent people dressed in black.

I make my way to the front area of the centre stage and there are three red steps that match the red carpet. Each step feels like a mountain to take but I eventually make my way to the casket mounted high on an oak base. I look down and see Courtney resting peacefully.

The air is hot from the flames and my face is sweaty. I put my hand to my mouth and start to weep uncontrollably. Hyperventilation sets in and I start to panic. My arms and legs shake like lightning has coursed through my entire body. My head snaps back and my body continues to tremble. The tears stream down my face and a bright light pushes out the dark so the whole room is bright and shining. The light forces my eyes shut as I continue to shake, my body hurts. My head begins to pound and my fingers stretch out, all of my extremities are aching and my lungs begin to close out. I’m gasping for a breath but only feel pressure against my skin. I feel as though my breaking point has arrived until the light vanishes, the candles blow out and the room is dark. The air smells like smoke and I lay crumpled onto the floor. The room is empty and silent, everyone is missing from the pews, but I remain on the floor beside Courtney. The silence is terrifying but I can only think about getting to Courtney. Blind, I reach out and feel for the base of the casket. I climb to my knees and rest my head against the side.

“Genesis.” I say my name three more times under my breath as tears continue to roll over my smiling cheek.

On an untitled story. (Chapter One)

2010-01-26T00:47:00.003-05:00

Chapter One

I have never witnessed such a glow from the sunset against the waves before. The lake looks as if it is on fire. The northern sky is blazing red and purple with a melting orange afterglow. I’m lying perfectly alone at the beach and stretching my extremities to the max. I wiggle my toes free of gritty sand. The evening air is brisk but my body is warm from the sand. The beach is small, but full of promise. The sand is never groomed so the shoreline is always full of seaweed and algae. The only way to this beach is through a sandy path full of driftwood that links off of a dead-end road. The entrance to the beach casts a wide view of the lake which stretches out for miles so it‘s hard to distinguish where the horizon line is. The beach is shaped into a half circle and there are trees and brush on either side and the brush is so thick that it‘s near impossible to peer through to see what lies beyond. The sand is hard on my feet because it’s never grated. Jagged rocks and smooth stones are littered throughout the beach and the sand is infested with thick weeds popping up everywhere. I gaze upon some birds flying off into the masterpiece painted in the sky. Every time I see this I think of workers going home after a long day of hard work. The waves crashing against the cliff side behind the brush and trees to my right sound louder then ever. I always wonder how big the waves are further out in the lake as I have never been out on the water. I just watch the sailboats and imagine myself on one. If I could just break my routine, I’d hop onto a ship and would sail to far off places and I enjoy thinking about all the things I might see but of course, reality always comes rushing back to my mind. This is where I’m staying.

This town is boring as hell. Nothing exciting happens here. Some days I’ll go through the motions. I will wake up, get dressed, eat, meet up with my best friend Mike and we’ll waste most of the day walking around hoping for a sign of adventure. Then dinner time will come around and I’ll eat and afterwards I’ll be sitting in front of the TV as the light casts weird shadows in the den, or I’ll go to the beach and I’ll lay down to read.

It’s an average town which is barely noticeable on a map, just another dot along the rural highway line and it‘s barely populated. The men mostly work fulltime at random blue collar jobs and the average women stay close to home and raise their average children. Most families go to Mr. General’s Store for their shopping. Mr. General’s Store has all the basic necessities the town will ever need. There’s also an old library with a few broken windows. The library looks uninviting with old red bricks and moldy windows. It’s usually deserted except for the older women with nothing better to do. Those women have probably read every dusty book twice over. If the weather is nice, I sometimes find them sitting on the old picnic table outside of the library discussing literature. Seagulls will walk around the worn, chipped table squawking away as the squirrels leap and scurry through the green grass from tree trunk to tree trunk. Across from the library is an aging park full of rusted equipment and wildlife. The playground is small and the grass is long and drowning in weeds. Surrounding the playground is a forest of old deciduous trees. Mosquitoes haunt the park and prey on any child brave enough to play on the equipment in the summer. There are two park benches in the playground for the parents but one of the benches was broken by some teens that were visiting family last summer and it still hasn’t been fixed. The other table has brightly painted graffiti on it. Then there’s the beach or as I call it, sanctuary.

As I get up off the sand, I shake off all the grit from my back and hair. My name is Genesis. I’m tall and lanky with longer hair that covers my baby blue eyes. I also have shiny braces which seem to be taking forever to get off.

I kick stones here and there as I walk home on a peaceful late summer night. Sometimes I find myself just daydreaming about random things like the future and the past. My friends could be talking to me, but I can’t help but fixate myself on certain words they say and start thinking about memories created from their speech and when I shake out of it and see them looking at me with a confused look upon their face, my face turns red.

I hear a soft whistle and as I look over to my left, I find Mrs. Johnson waiving at me. Mrs. Johnson’s hair was slowly turning grey and her face is weathered. I imagine her as she might have looked back in her day, fair and beautiful, but those days are long behind her now. I smile a bit as I notice she is wearing her pink top she always seems to wear, revealing her frail bony arms. Her black dress droops to her ankles and she has over sized glasses that she constantly pushes up her nose with her wrinkly index finger. She is a widow and lives alone in the corner of the town. She’s shouting something but I can’t make out what she’s yelling because of a big rumbling truck that shot by.

“Happy belated birthday Genesis!” she yells again in an old raspy voice.

Being singled out always makes me feel funny but I give her a thank-you wave. She waves back and walks quickly in an old pace towards Mr. General’s. As I continue along the crumbling road I begin to smell my neighbour’s barbequing something delicious. Such intoxicating aromas are so nostalgic. It reminds me of late summer when I would be walking home or riding my bike and I would smell the barbeques cooking. I’d stop my bike and creep up to the fence and peer through a hole and just let their dinner filter through my nose. Sometimes I would forget I was even standing there and would get caught up into a fantasy inside my mind‘s eye.

I was almost home when I heard shouting. My shoes slapped against the cracked sidewalk as I darted towards the end of the block. I stop. I haven’t seen something like this in quite some time.

On love.

2010-01-13T23:43:00.000-05:00

So it's been a while since my last blog but tonight I felt a desire to write.

I'm going to openly write about love and what it means to me.

To me, I find that I do seek to find love and everything that comes with it. Truth be told I have poor luck in the love department as I seemingly go through date-to-date looking for that little something extra.

What that little something extra is, I'm not one-hundred percent sure.

But maybe that's the point of it all. To find purpose and ultimately happiness bound in the covers of mystery and frustration.

I say this because mystery and frustration are a big part of the "chase."

I'm told mystery goes a long way with women as does frustration.

A girl will likely become very frustrated with a male if he does not give her the attention she seeks. A woman will be drawn to a man she can not understand. A woman needs not to be told "I love you" but rather be shown "why" he loves her.

Now I've kind of gotten off track a bit, but to righten this ship, let's dive into the cliche, "love will happen when you least expect it."

How can one honestly not expect it though?

I find myself to be so ready for something beyond my typical flings and MSN relationships and so I expect now to find a girl who suits my needs.

So my question to my readers is this,

How do I find love by not finding love?

The answer I fathom, does not exist but it's still frustrating (you see, frustration will always be associated with love) when I'm so ready to open up and tear down my walls to let someone in and not be able to find a girl who is in the same boat as me.

I find that online dating can't work, not for me anyways, because when you develop a relationship with someone online, it's very different from any relationship you will have in person. The two worlds to me are very hard to coincide together.

Any inside jokes or anything discussed online makes it very hard to mesh with the person you meet face-to-face rather then in front of a screen. It's two very different worlds.

You become accustomed to having the ability to think of something to say because you have more time to become clever and make sure you don't say the wrong thing, whereas in person, it's very real time and your expressions usually tell more then the words escaping your mouth.

So for me, if I can't find a girl online because I truly believe it can not work, where do I meet a girl?

I feel as if I am stuck in a rut, living comfortably in my bubble, which consists of close friends, home and work.

Meeting a girl at a bar is not something I find hopeful.

There is of course the argument that I am at the bar, me being somebody with values and moral beliefs, so then a a good catch could be at the same bar too, thinking the same thing as me, but lets face it. Bars are trouble, and nothing good usually comes from it.

I've played with the idea of speed dating, but do they really exist? What's the success rate of them? How awkward could it be? If I brought friends to keep me in check, would that harm my experience or make it positive?

Love is definitely in the air these days I find. A lot of girls I used to know, used to crush on are getting engaged, happily relationed or just really messed up into a bad relationship.

I thought that perhaps I might find "the one" at school, but that didn't happen and now that I have graduated and I am looking to start my career perhaps a new job will open a new window for me and a work relationship may blossom.

I've done the work relationship before and from my experience, they weren't the greatest, but then again, I was a different person and much younger.

Now as for the "set-up," this is another option that I've seemingly tried over and over again and have not had any luck with.

I find that the "set-uper" usually becomes too involved in the pair and the issue of trust can be easily compromised.

"If I tell the set-uper this, will they tell my date what I said?"

And sometimes the set-uper will put a lot of pressure onto the whole date to work out so as a result, neither person can really connect naturally. Things become rushed and then things get said and then before you know it, it's awkward for all three parties.

Not to say all set-ups are failures, I know of many relationships that have been successful from this option but only because the set-uper gave them proper space and privacy.

Anyways, I feel like I've gotten a lot of my chest tonight and maybe some of you can answer some of my questions for me, provide helpful advice and give me positive testimonies that might inspire me to keep my head up and know that good things come to those who wait, yadda yadda yadda.

Just to throw it out there, I'm looking for a girl with confidence, both within and about herself. A girl who can laugh at life and not take things too seriously, but can seriously take things into perspective. Being cute is also a plus.

Until next time, the only way anyone can ever truly love is by loving themselves first.

Untitled

2009-12-21T16:07:00.000-05:00

For if ever a time, for if ever a moment,
Takes absolute control,
let it guide you, and completely own it,

For if ever a touch, for if ever a word,
Takes absolute control,
Seize the spark, no matter how absurd,

For if ever hint, for if ever a chance,
Takes absolute control,
Follow your heart, be true to your stance,

For if ever a love, for if ever a kiss,
Takes absolute control,
Let love into your eternal abyss.

T. Webber

On Christ(X)mas spirit.

2009-12-08T19:24:00.001-05:00

I recently had a small conversation with a lady from work about Christmas and the spirit of Christmas and how much it has changed over the years.

No longer can corporations wish everyone a 'Merry Christmas.'

'Seasons Greetings,' or 'Happy Holidays' is the norm.

Schools don't sing Christmas carols involving religion (if they do, they are few and far between).

Seems society has treaded far away from the true meaning of Christmas.

Whether the true meaning be either religious or family oriented, gifts and gift exchanges have taken over.

Boxing day no longer includes mass family dinners.

People now line for blocks to get inside shopping centres to return a thoughtful gift or take advantage of incredibe deals.

I say keep your gifts, sales and credit cards away and bring on the turkey and traditions of old.

What gift could possibly overcome the moment of clarity when a person feels the love of true family get-togethers.

Christmas needs a change, a step backward if you will.

My niece will be watching Frosty the Snowman for the first time in her life and who can't remember the happiness a simple cartoon used to bring them?

That to me is what Christmas should be more about. Traditions and family togetherness.

So until next time, I'll leave you with a random thought. Remember the sixth degree of seperation, that stranger you pass might be closer to you then you might not think.

On money.

2009-11-26T19:38:00.001-05:00

In Brewster's Millions, the story revolves around Montgomery Brewster, a young man who inherits a million dollars from his rich grandfather. But to make matters worse for Montgomery, his rich and eccentric uncle (who hated his grandfather) dies also. The crazy uncle's will leaves Brewster with seven million dollars, but in order to collect his grandfather's money, he can't keep one dollar of the uncles' seven million. Brewster is forced to spend every penny of his uncle's seven million within one year, and end up with no assets or goods gained by his uncle's wealth at that time. Should he make the deadline, he will earn the full million; should he fail, he remains penniless. (Thanks to Wikipedia for the intro)

I've always found this plot line to be very interesting.

Could any of you really do this?

Spend about 7 million dollars but have nothing to show for it?

And if I'm not mistaken, charity donations would be a breach of the deal.

I thought to myself that I could treat my friends and family to expensive dinners and nights out on the town, but let's get real.

7 million dollars is 7 million dollars. Who could eat and drink 7 million dollars worth of food and drinks in one year?

I'd obviously travel because that would be within the guidelines and then of course I'd bring everybody else too on my expense.

Buying a NHL seasons ticket package should be within the boundaries too because after the year, you don't own the tickets anymore. (obviously)

Upon further research, the novel was written in 1902.

So if it were written today, 7 million would probably turn into 70 million, if not more.

Money is a funny thing.

We all drive ourselves crazy and work our bodies hard for a piece of paper.

I almost wish we could go back to the barter system and use our skills to gain what we want.

My friend noted something interesting to me yesterday.

A hockey player in the NHLwas suspended for two games and as a financial result of the suspension, he will forfeit about 65,000 dollars.

That's only TWO games. People don't even make that in two years in some circumstances.

Kind of makes you scratch your head when you think about all the 3rd worlds and poverty stricken communities.

And yet, these stadiums are filled night in and night out paying to see these players play a game.

Funny to think we spend our hard earned money to see the game we love in order to forget about the stress that money brings.

That's all for now, and if the man ever gets you down, keep your head up because a better opportunity is always just around the corner. You just have to go out there and get it.

On time.

2009-11-18T17:42:00.001-05:00

This year has been filled with many highlights and great memories, but isn't it crazy how quickly this year has gone by?

Already I'm seeing Christmas commercials on TV, major shopping centres are geared for the Christmas shopping and it seems like it was last night that I was counting down the seconds for the new year.

I have always been told, mostly from my father, that I should appreciate my youth and embrace it while I'm living it because when you get to a certain age, time just flies by.

I finally understand what he meant of this.

This will also be a special new year because it is the end of the new millenium. We are almost officially a decade into the 21st century.

I invite you to think back and remember what you were doing on December 31, 1999.

I don't even remember that New Years Eve, but I do remember all the hype about Y2K.

10 years later, our computers are fine and we haven't managed to blow ourselves up, a few close calls though I'm sure.

Who would have predicted America would be presided over by an African-American president?

Who would have guessed Michael Jackson would die in only 10 years from then?

Tampa Bay, Anahiem and Carolina would hoist the Stanley Cup?

The Boston Red Sox would break the Great Bambino's curse?

Yes the world of politics, sports and entertainment have all seen great changes, many many more then what I have listed but my point is that time goes by quickly.

Living for the moment is easier said then done, but when you can capture and grasp a moment, it's almost an out-of-body experience.

If I could pick just one highlight from last year and go back to maybe cherish it better, I would go back to my graduation.

Graduating school was one of the most rewarding feelings I have ever felt so far in my life.

That sense of accomplishment is truly undescribable.

As much as time scares me, I also look forward to the future, no pun intended.

10 years from this day, I hope to be settled and comfortable in my career, own my own house and come home each night to a beautiful family.

Where will all of you be in 10 years?

Until next time, love life unconditionally and life will return the favour.

On people watching.

2009-11-14T15:22:00.000-05:00

I know of a few people who also enjoy this as much as I do.

'This' being people watching.

Sitting on a bench in a crowded mall can be more fun for me then others would never be able to guess. I don't know why I enjoy this weird... I'm not even sure what to call it.

A person could walk by and by the time they leave my sight I've already made up their life story inside of my head. What type of job they have, if they're married, widowed, divoreced.

If it's in a grocery store, I make up a whole new level of stories. What they eat, family size, whether or not they're lonely.

I've always had a creative mind. Ever since I was very young I have been writing stories or thinking up crazy adventures. To that end I attribute my people watching.

In fact, that's probably where I get half of my story ideas from in the first place.

Forgetting about where the source of the idea comes from, I turn a story of some stranger inside my head into a fictional piece.

People watching makes me laugh sometimes too.

I don't always make up stories about people becuase some people are so entertaining to watch you don't even have to fillt hat void.

It's funny to watch how people act in social situations. I especially enjoy the 'alpha male' show downs.

Even funnier to watch them in small town bars.

Truth be told that most men have no game when it comes to women.

A lot of guys think they do, but they really don't. And I'm not going to say that I'm some casanova, because clearly I'm not, but I also know my boundaries.

That's where a lot of guys fail, they enter uncharted territories.

Nothing wrong with showing confidence, but you have to be smart about it too.

Another funny thing about watching people in small town bars is groups of women out on a 'girl's night.'

Every group has one, and I'm talking about the mother hen. The mother hen is the one that keeps her girls together in this situation.

It's funny to watch some guys try their game on one of the mother hen's friends and get blind-sided.

A true alpha male would be ready to intercept the mother hen and win her over in order to even think about continuing the conversation.

But like I've seen thousands of times, the male fails miserably and the mother hen keeps her coop together and the night continues.

I could probably go on and on about different people watching scenarios but maybe I'll save that for another time.

Until then, whenever you're feeling at your worst, surround yourself with a positive infuence and life will feel a little easier.

On blogging and beginnings.

2009-11-13T14:32:00.008-05:00

As a future hopeful broadcast anything, I want to share these thoughts and feelings with the blogging world.

And how else could I start a blog than by blogging about a blog. Confused? Me too... I think.

You see, I have recently, (I use the word recent vaguely) because it has actually been just over a half-year since I recieved my coveted journalism diploma and to be honest, I'm starting to feel the pressure.

I'm feeling the pressure of future graduates who will be just as eager to find work as I am. I'm feeling the pressure of having to find solid career work to get where I want to be in life. Lastly, I'm feeling the pressure from the fear of not succeeding in the world of broadcast journalism.

I don't want to become another statistic, that being a failure statistic. Hence why I have started this blog.

Whenever I talk about my life goals with anybody, alot of those anybodies tell me that a blog can enhance my chances of landing a job. I have never disagreed with this, and I always say to these people that yes a blog would in fact help me out but then never did anything about it.

To me a blog will not only help your chances of beating out other candidates, but it will also sharpen your writing/typing skills and it also may bring in a certain readership that could turn into a viewership for me if I make it big time.

I apply to 3 jobs a day and that just isn't enough. It's easy to send an email to a future employer and hope for the best, but it's another thing to be pro-active about it too.

By upkeeping a current and interesting blog I think an employer would like my ambition and maybe that extra little attention to detail could put me one foot ahead of my competition.

Not to say that a blog is the key to financial happiness, but it's a step in the right direction.

After writing a few of these paragraphs I also find that it helps to sort things out in your brain.

Suddenly these pressures are easier to understand.

When I put my thoughts down on 'paper' I'm really getting a sense of what I need to do in order to get where I need to be in life.

Funny how epiphanies work aren't they?

Another interesting notation is that you never know where help can come from.

I work at a part-time gig and never really thought about it being a stepping stone in my search for career work but recently after a job review I was offered a helping hand in finding a place to work where I actually want to work.

This certain joe-job is a transitional place to work until you find greener grass and I was delighted to hear that someone was willing to give me a helping hand.

Not ony have I taken advantage of this offer but it's already in motion.

Moreover, this is another reason why I am starting this blog. Not that this person suggested I create one, but because this person has lit another fire under my ass.

Today is the start of many possibilities.

Possibly, my new blog will direct me towards a positive space and I plan on blogging about everything.

I hope to build a trusted readership with this blog and I hope to inform and entertain at the same time.

I will update each and everyone of you on my path towards a bright future right here on blogger.com.

All you have to do is check in on me every now and then and any words of encouragement are also welcome.

Until next time, surround yourself with positive influence and life will bless you unconditionally.