no.  i am tired. 

no.

Today I partook in the time-honored tradition that is the job interview. Twice, actually.

The first was a phone interview in which a woman probed the depths and quality of my soul. Luckily, for this interview I had prepared immensely and sat with scribbled notes about teamwork and top tier service clustered all around me. I could hear her from my phone's small speaker, finger scratching down the sheet of foolscap upon which her questions were scribbled. Describe your personality for me. Why would you be a good fit for a role like this. What makes you want to work for a company like this. Are you allergic to peanuts. Why do you exist.

And as I spouted a list of recited insincerities back at her, I could tell I was winning. It is laughable, that the little game we played had any bearing upon reality, but it did. My belief that this woman could assist me monetarily and hers that I was the striking image of ideal-for-this-job combined into that strange archaic formal dance that is strategic self-presentation. I was sitting in a chair in my bedroom, exposed as the day I was born for all she knew. Etching "S-A-T-A-N" into the wall paint. My interest in the job initially had been largely because it may have pertained to a degree in psychology, something I hold claim to. It has only been continued by some strange insecurity-derived competitive-streak or drive to complete tasks. Desperate poverty, no doubt, has some role to play, but mostly the prior. Still, I'm winning. Merely an identification of the cookie-cutter of her preference, and the compulsion of my personality to fill it. A perfectly manufactured persona.

The second interview, however, was face to face, involving a casual sit down with a supervisor. He shook my hand and smiled, asking me "What's up?" Not much, just at a job interview. While this was potentially the lamest joke one could every make, it spilled out.  Oddly, he laughed. I laughed (with rising intonation?).  There was a thing about the way he looked that conveyed good-natured humor. Maybe an offset eye, or haphazard hair. It was disarming. "So who are you? What do you do with yourself?" he said. I like to play sports like hockey and squash. I like to read books. I hang out with friends. I am far too normal for a question like this. We laughed more, and he talked about the job and the workplace and what would be going on. I got the impression he was a nice guy. Then he said, "That's pretty much it. You seem like a nice guy, and I think you'll be a great fit for this job. I'll call you by next Friday." He continued, "I'm not really into all those interview-ee 'what are your strengths and weaknesses' questions."

"Yeah," I said. "People just make up disingenuous answers to those anyway."

having recently relocated to the vancouver area, i find myself much closer to home than i have been since leaving it some five years ago.  it is a strange thing, my newfound ability to “bop home” for a day.  my parents, it seems, are dangerously close. 

the purpose of my trip was singular: to talk with my dad about some work that i would be doing for him, if it suited me.  being intensely poor, it does, and we spent the day discussing computer and yard/renovation work i may be able to do for him.  at one point, he pointed at the office light switch. 
“do you think you could replace and rewire all of these light switches for me?” he asked.  “we want to upgrade to the more modern flat switches.”  i could do that for him, i said. 
“why, though?” 
“well it adds value to the house.” (they’re selling.)
“isn’t that a little ridiculous, though?  i mean, there’s nothing wrong with these light switches, is there?”  i inspected the current panel.  the screws had endured a little wear on their white paint.  i flicked the switch back and forth.  everything certainly seemed in order.  “why go through all the hassle of replacing every light switch in the house when these ones are all perfectly fine?”
“well, they’re old.  potential buyers will be much more likely to purchase an updated home.”  here i laughed. 
“but that’s absurd, isn’t it?  i mean, isn’t that kind of logic indicative of the problematic mindset that pervades western culture?  we’re so concerned with perceived value, with throughput.  it just seems....wasteful.” 
“no.” he said.

and so began a debate of the merits of the functional and the cosmetic, of human nature, and environmental ethics. 

so what do YOU think?

there literally is nothing - nothing - like sitting down on a comfortable couch with a book.  the thought of it alone feels peaceful, right.  this is my take on it, at least, and i know many people share my sentiments.  but i am beginning to wonder how many.

it occurs to me that since the time of the industrial revolution, culture and society seem to be in a perpetual state of acceleration.  mechanization and automation have exponentially increased the convenience of performing everyday tasks.  two hundred years ago, doing laundry involved a wash basin, a rack, and elbow grease.  furthermore, one had to hang and wait for clothing to dry.  i suppose rain posed more of a problem then.  as a contrast, i am currently doing laundry in the 21st century (a task i had been putting off due to laziness).  i carried my laundry ten feet down a hallway, threw it into a hole in a metal cube, closed the lid, and pressed go.  later, i will throw my clean clothes into the other hole in the front of a similar metal cube adjacent to the first.  i will turn a dial, and press a button.  zang zaddam.  dry clothes.  before the laundry, i unloaded the dishwasher.  i didn't vacuum, but i could have.  i feel like i am living a medieval housekeeper's wet dream.  speed, convenience; its all there.  obviously it would be silly to be hung up on house chores.  the trend is pervasive.  convenience, thy name is technology.

it has me slightly worried, i must admit, about my irreplaceable desire to read and write.  in the time its taken me to type this, i could have made three youtube videos about the same thing, received video responses, and recorded a sassy retort!  of course, the irony of it would have been too much to bear.  the point stands, though.  as technology becomes all encompassing, performing day-to-day tasks will be a swifter affair.  it seems legitimate to wonder if older, slower informatory mediums such as words on a page will come to be replaced by things like audio/visual stimuli, if only because of its more instantly gratifying nature. 

so i guess what i'm trying to say is, my next blog post will be a webcam video.  naked.  

hello, and welcome.  this shall be the first of “the dailies”, something i hope to be a daily occurrence.  the point of the dailies is not for you, but for me.  it is for me to spout, or tout, or pout.  

mostly, pout.  i have very few things to tout.  

it is a place where i will type for fifteen minutes about the things that i have been noticing whilst walking along a cracked sidewalk or crowded shopping mall.  it will record my life’s events in shameless detail, much to the dismay of my friends or family.  it will be sad, or graphic, or pitiful.  mostly, it will be my fingers causing words to appear on a page, something i have suggested will pay my bills one day, but happens rarely if ever.  up till now.

let me start off the dailies with a favourite pastime of mine, evident by the continual array of dirty socks in my laundry hamper despite the fact that i rarely adorn my feet with them.  

masturbation, my dear reader.  masturbation.  it is an activity to which my gender is chronically addicted, exacerbated continually by the swath of young, attractive females present in areas of our frequenting.  to all of these females:  i am desperately interested in you.  but since you do not reciprocate, i masturbate.  often.  

lately, though, masturbation has, as green day puts it, “lost its fun.”  indeed, it shocked me as much as it shocks you now.  but two factors have combined to mercilessly drain my penis of virility - a very recent break up, and a lack of internet connection.  

you see, without the internet, there is no pornography.  despite its questionable morality, porn, the old staple - a colleague, a friend - is absent.  and without pornography, what is a randy man or lady to do?  the answer, most simply, is fantasize.   

as an intensely unimaginative individual, you will have to allow that my mental “spank bank” is relatively limited to my recent or most potent sexual endeavors, something that normally poses little problem.  after a breakup, however, it poses a massive problem.  

essentially, i can’t stop thinking about my ex-girlfriend.  

and i try!  don’t assume i don’t. i valiantly construct the most sordid of thoughts about old high-school hotties and college co-eds.  but somehow it always comes back to her.  that fiery little blonde’s hips rocking back and forth, or the way she pursed her lips when the angles aligned just so.  the fact that my underwear drawer is still full of her tiny delicates helps little.  the point of no return for me has become the point of pining away.  it is a sad day when jerking becomes joyless.  

i fear, dear reader, that i have given entirely new meaning to the notion that in the end, masturbation is still just fucking yourself.  

My roommate, Nik, and I just watched a film that was centered around the Dalai Lama.  It was, essentially, an interview that the filmmaker fleshed out with history and backstory regarding the Lama, Tibet, etc.  The film itself was very interesting, if not the most aptly crafted piece of cinematics I have ever seen.  For one, the Dalai Lama is, indeed, an extraordinary individual, seeming to embody his reputation in the fullest.  For another, he sounds and speaks very much like Yoda.  Perhaps George Lucas is a Buddhist.   

One thing that struck myself and Nik as intriguing was the method by which the Tibetan people choose their Dalai Lama.  You may or may not be aware that the Dalai Lama is deemed by many to the be the Buddha reincarnate, though not nearly so jolly.  The current Dalai Lama is the fourteenth, him being the alleged reincarnation of the thirteenth, who was that of the twelfth, and so on.  What is interesting, though, is what happens when a Dalai Lama dies.  At this point, another Lama (the Panchen Lama), and a great many other monks begin systematically working through the families of Tibet in search of the reincarnation of their leader.  Essentially, they test each young boy they come across until they have decided upon one who passes all of the tests.  For example, the current Dalai Lama, when he was four, was sought out by monks who believed he may indeed be Tibet's next Holy Leader.  Their suspicions were confirmed when he was asked a series of questions about material objects owned by the previous DL, and answered them each correctly.  At this point, the boy and his family were toted off to the Tibetan capital (I can't remember how to spell it) and housed in the city's palace.  It was there that the boy received rigorous training in the doctrine of Buddhism and came to know and fulfill (and surpass!) his role as Tibet's spiritual and political leader. 

Well, would-be political leader, if China hadn't cluster-fucked Tibet with Mao-Bombs.  Imagine, though, if Tibet had been left alone, a free nation to be ruled peacefully by the Dalai Lama.  It would have been a perhaps ubiquitous example of an enlightened and benevolent dictatorship.

Enlightened Dictatorship:  A dictatorship ruled by one who serves the good and will of the people, and not him/herself. 

How amazing that would have been!  The potential Tibet had!  In my opinion, and I think many would agree, an enlightened dictatorship is probably the very best form of government, mostly because it removes much of the need for internal politics.  The pandering and the philandering of those jockying for a piece of voter-pie would be severely cut.  The sluggish, drunken brute that is a democratic state attempting to forge policy would be given a cup of coffee, a set of spectacles, and a kick in the ass!  Decisions would be made, and so it would be.  Freedoms granted at the drop of a hat.  Climate change goals set, industry quotas made, lives improved, nirvana attained!   

Of course, it would be vastly more complicated with a vast more to do about it all than I have pictured, but the message I wished to convey continues to stand tall in my mind.  Of course, there would, as is always the case with a dictatorship, be the staggering risk of misuse.  Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and it seems to my mind a task to come up with an example of a single dictatorship that did not have designs on exploiting, at least to some extent, its people to its own ends.  I would, however, argue that the risk is rather well dealt with in the case of the Dalai Lama, and that the ruling of Tibet would indeed have been benevolently if not secularly carried out.  This, simply, is to do with the cultural backdrop against which the institution of the Dalai Lama stands.  That is, one rooted in Buddhism.  While I am no theist versed in the religious texts of Buddhism, most if not all that I have come to know of it (besides its archaic oppression of women in some places) is peaceable and inclined towards finding a meaningful path within the greater workings of the universe.  Love, happiness, and truth all seem to be staples of the Buddhist's moral diet.  Peaceful coexistence among one another and the world seems to be paramount in its importance.  Benevolence, thy name is (or seems to be) Buddhism. 

I suppose, then, what I am trying to say is... China, in an unjust, deadly, and continuing occupation of Tibet has robbed the world of what may have been an amazing country to watch and learn from, if not mimic.  They have even set up their own puppet Panchen Lama in an effort to control who the next Dalai Lama will be when this one passes.  The real Panchen Lama, a young boy who was chosen by the current DL himself, was taken along with his family by the Chinese authorities within days of being named a Tibetan figurehead.  Neither the boy nor his family have been heard from since, apparently.  It is abhorred, the lengths that those who are in power will go to in an effort to retain it.  Abhorred, disgusting shit. 

If you didn't know, the Dalai Lama lives in India now, where he publicly strives towards the freeing of the Tibetan people. 

also, i am thinking that i need to start drawing cartoons like all the other cool cats on livejournal. 

job hunts suck  <----note the cool use of different sized font

looking for work, a job, an occupation, a position, has to be one of the more tedious activities known to human kind.  this, of course, is only made worse by the economic nosedive and tightening of employer wallets and sphincters.  it makes me wonder if our hominid ancestors despaired the same way i do as they awoke in their sunny savanna-grass beds to the reality of their day's obligations. 

my guess is that they didn't.  because they didn't have any.  not, at least, in the same sense we do. 

our ancestors, amongst the rest of the animals to walk, slither, or flit about this plant, were motivated on a day to day basis by things to do with nature, things directly necessary their very own survival --- that is to continue to live and breathe and, as vonnegut would put it, generally fart around.  i can't be the only person in the world who feels severely and utterly disconnected from that sentiment.  when was the last time YOU organized a hunting party and pitted yourself against nature's wiles?

you might say, "actually cam, just yesterday my friends and i gathered around a fire and worked ourselves into a bloodlust before killing and eating the neighbour's cat."  to that i say, get a new hobby, ryan.  just because andrew does it, doesn't mean you need to, too.  anyway, its not the same. 

even now, the idea of awakening in a grassy soft-patch at sun's leisure, stark-naked with morning-hominid-hard-on seems just about as appealing as my opus-form mattress.  and gnawing on the dregs of last night's meal while wondering about in search of edible plants seems far more pleasurable than stripping concrete forms or jerking lattes -- both of which i have done, and neither of which are incredibly rewarding.  unless you shake a mean latte-rosetta and a customer notices....then its the bee's knees.

sure, big cats might have preyn upon us.  sure, other hominin kin-groups may have torn the limbs off each-other if they strayed too far into a neighboring group's territory.  it would have kept things interesting.  not to mention, humans today are hardly above committing heinous attrocities on a day to day basis.  take, for example, the recent indictments of US soldiers for the rape and murder of a young Iraqi girl and her family.  three of them held the girl down while another raped her.  i am unclear on whether or not they took turns, and i plan on remaining unclear.  this is just one example.  others may include the crusades, the reign of the kmer rouge in cambodia, apartheid, or the holocaust, to name a few. 

so - relative to homos erectus or habilis -  holier, we are not.  smarter, maybe.  living in a world that is more suited to our bioevolutionary underpinnings, doubtful.

  where they walked - we drive
     where they hunted - we dig, have dug, flattened, and paved roads
        so that we may transport ourselves to soon to be erect buildings.   
  erect buildings, so we may climb stairs instead of trees. 
     buildings with many tiny rooms
        so that many tiny people may scribble tiny words on tiny pieces of paper
           made from thousand-year-old trees
             and pass the pieces along a wordless bucket-line
           the fucking thousand-year-old trees! 
             that we cut down
               in order to build the erect building
                       and provide tiny people tiny pencils and papers with which to scribble  [i do like scribbling, though]

i'm getting sweaty.   

don't get me wrong.  i do love the stuff we have now.  i love mac books and squash rackets and board games and guitars.  many far better than me have put those tiny pencils and papers to many massive and sublime uses.  those people would likely not have had those pencils and paper had society and its accompanying technology not evolved in the way that it did.

i realize this.  i just want to use the things i have to bitch about the things i have.  what a splendid asshole i am.     

but i am ALSO musing about the fact that our biological-hard-wiring likely never intended for us to be anywhere by 7 am sharp, to work for little pieces of paper that i could trade for big pieces of shaped metal.  i'm not advocating a return to a cave-dwelling society.  i am, though, making the point that i feel, at times, that western culture's connectedness with nature is at best lacking, and at worst, non-existent, and that there is a reasonable amount of evidence out there to suggest that humans were, in fact, happier living in evolutionary pleistocene.  don't believe me?  i'll debate you.  so hard. 

all that, and i don't like going to work in the morning.  i'm lazy, you see.  

i always laugh, briefly mind you, when i try and do things tiredly. 

this time i laughed because tiredly is not a word.  and because i'm not going to write anymore because i'm too tired to write any more.

....maybe tiredly IS a word.

dear god i am so tired dear god i am so tired dear god i am so tired...

i put in my first full day of construction work in over a year today, which brings me to my next question:

why is it that we say "dear god"?  shouldn't i capitalize the "g"?  show a little respect for the g-man? 

no.  because i am yet to become religious.  i say yet to become, because anything could happen.  that's quantum physics, baby.  quantum physics, of course, is likely rejected by religious circles.  sigh.

so i sincerely doubt that i will ever become religious. i will pardon myself for not being particularly drawn to blind faith and devotion to a monotheistic almighty who will one day return to smite dissenters unto an eternity of stinging agony and elevate believers to a plane of undying rapture.  despite this panultimate judgeroo, the representatives of this thought-train will continue to preach peace, forgiveness, and non-judgment. 

unless you're gay.  monotheists just seem to hate homos.

here's an equation that i believe a few people have capitalized on (namely, the catholics):

   inexplicable events + capacity for abstract thought = belief in higher power

   belief in higher power + paralyzing fear of death = smorgasbord of sociopathic social control mechanisms

this might be offensive to you, but let me include myself in this.

if david blaine walked down the street in a white robe, stole my watch off my pasty-white wrist, levitated, and ended by promising my stinky corpse extra-lubey sexual relations with the woman of my dreams to infinity and beyond, i'd probably follow the blaine bible too. 

provided i didn't know about quantum mechanics, of course. 

so why do i still say "dear god"?

ps.  patent pending on that knock knock joke. 

there is a wiffleball flying about in the yard beside my house.  i can't quite see over the fence, but i can hear the yips and barks of soon-to-be-tamed children, playing beneath a pant-laden clothesline.  pants and sheets are little parachutes in the wind.  it makes me wonder about the last time i played with a wiffleball in the sun, and why i'm sitting inside on such a beautiful day.  

answer (sad):  the sun makes it hard to see my computer screen.  *coughbarfhack 

this is my first livejournal entry.  here's to goals and striving for them, dreams and other corn-dog cliches, to expressing oneself in this uniquely human method of nouns and verbs and other thought symbols of ours.

this is my first livejournal entry.  hopefully it isn't my last.  i do love to procrastinate, though.