Be advised, the following may contain extreme Christmas-spirit-killing material. Rated "I" for Informative, Illuminating, and Illustrated Christmas rage.
When I was a kid Christmas had no commercials. Heck, I barely even had Christmas off from school, no one cared about it, there were no expectations, and we just did our thing. Granted that was in a country where Christmas is as popular as selfless giving is in America, but the fact remains—Christmas was great.
So now I ask, since when did Christmas get so commercialized? And why do we, as a culture insist on raping this celebration of winter and family by spoiling these two priceless things by dousing them in the boiling poison of materialism? Christmas is polluted! Code Red! Abort! I wonder why I have to listen to 200 commercials in stores, on the radio, on billboards, and on TV tell me that I have to buy something for the people I love in order to show them my appreciation. Well advertisements, I call your bluff. Do the companies selling diamonds care about your loved one? Do they want you to be happy? Do they really mean it when they say “merry Christmas!”. Pifff! Merry Christmas ho ho HA! It’s just a North American conspiracy to make you buy more things. MORE, ALWAYS MORE! And maybe it’s a sign when we have to rack our brains, scratch our heads and say “oh jeez what in the world can I get that person, seems like he/she has everything already”. CODE RED! I’m no tree hugger, but I’ve got to say that when it comes to this point, put your $20 into the flippen Salvation Army tin. I know it’s counter-cultural to actually selflessly give during Christmas instead of giving-because-you’d-feel-bad-if-you received-with-nothing-to-give-back, but you can do it. You can transcend blaring, loud, neon colored advertisements that tell you that you aren’t good enough, or your stuff is outdated, or that the best gift for your loved one is______ (insert word here). Commercialized, materialized America raped Christmas and turned it into a corporate money making machine.
Christmas trees are the newest icon to place on the alter in the sacred Temple of Materialism—the mall. They are the new symbol of American Express, affluence, and “trying to find that gift that’s perfect for that special someone? Well try SKREW YOU!@$ It works every time, guaranteed, so that this Christmas you can put a smile on her face with bren-topia travels all new SKREW YOU. Order online right now and with a purchase of $5,000,000,000,000 you can register to win a $50 gift card. That’s a complementary $50 gift card only when you order now!”.
It makes me want to burn them. All.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
god save the queen!
It was a startling plot twist when Brent found himself enjoying life in Canada. When I began my second year here in September, there was only one other place that I could imagine to be worse than Canada; that proprietor of pride, that great temple to consumerism, the emissary of global domination, and the holy headquarters of Twinkies—America. But now as my time here comes to an end it would seem that the people around me have somehow managed to creep their way into my heart, and I will miss them. I feel like I’ve said far too many goodbyes in my time, and I have, and now I will again. The most difficult part of goodbyes is being willing to say hello again, knowing that it will be closely followed by another goodbye. Slowly good friends will turn from faces into electronic symbols displayed crudely on a computer monitor until correspondence ceases, and I realize that I don’t even know the person I’m emailing anymore. I have been called a critic and a cynic, but there is little romance in farewells and much to dwell on; it is difficult to keep from becoming a victim of experience.
I have always thought that there are three things that are fundamentally wrong with our human existence: death, disease, and farewells. All seem necessary and unavoidable, yet inhuman in essence. In a perfect world or perhaps in heaven there will be none of these—I will look forward to the day.
So this goes out to you my Abbotsford, Chilliwack, Langley, and Vancouver friends.
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!
I will miss you.
So what, ask you, could possibly be next for a nomad such as myself? Two words: Washing-ton. You may have heard of it. I will be going to a very prestigious community college near my parents place in/near Tacoma where I hope to do some gen-ed before hopping on the University wagon. This will be my first time living in America since 7th grade—and I don’t know how I feel about it. But I have a ski pass and skis—life should be good.
I have always thought that there are three things that are fundamentally wrong with our human existence: death, disease, and farewells. All seem necessary and unavoidable, yet inhuman in essence. In a perfect world or perhaps in heaven there will be none of these—I will look forward to the day.
So this goes out to you my Abbotsford, Chilliwack, Langley, and Vancouver friends.
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!
I will miss you.
So what, ask you, could possibly be next for a nomad such as myself? Two words: Washing-ton. You may have heard of it. I will be going to a very prestigious community college near my parents place in/near Tacoma where I hope to do some gen-ed before hopping on the University wagon. This will be my first time living in America since 7th grade—and I don’t know how I feel about it. But I have a ski pass and skis—life should be good.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
live?
What does it mean to live life?
It would seem to me that many modern westerners live their lives vicariously through the medium of media. It is a vent of all our modern ages pent up desires funneled through a safe means that is not only without consequences, but is socially acceptable. Passion, war, love, adventure, action are desires innate to the human psychology but no longer acceptable in North American sociology, much less ecclesiology. But is not rejecting core human components rejecting the meaning of humanity, the distinctive between us and other living organisms? What is a live lived thorough artificial means? It is fake, simulated physical and emotional risk that is, that must be, incomparable to its real human origins. Imitation can never be as good as the original.
So we, modern humanity, have given up our natures for simulations on a screen wishing that we were the ones behind the gun or kiss—and silently we mourn the death of some inner desire that longs for that life. We are taught from a young age the rule of safety—everything in this society is focused on living life within this parameter. Isn’t society better off for it? Aren’t we happier because we live longer lives than ever before in the history of mankind? Perhaps it is time to reconsider the meaning of life and the social rule that a long life is always preferable to a short one. The first question one asks of a deceased person is the age when he/she passed away. Why can life not be judged by the fullness of life and the impact it made instead of age? It is time to live life and judge it by fullness, not length; impact, and not wealth.
Sometimes to live life fully one must risk greatly. But is not an attempt at full human life worth the thousand daily deaths we die in this sterile environment? Would an early death pursuing full life not be considered gain?
These are the questions we must ask.
It would seem to me that many modern westerners live their lives vicariously through the medium of media. It is a vent of all our modern ages pent up desires funneled through a safe means that is not only without consequences, but is socially acceptable. Passion, war, love, adventure, action are desires innate to the human psychology but no longer acceptable in North American sociology, much less ecclesiology. But is not rejecting core human components rejecting the meaning of humanity, the distinctive between us and other living organisms? What is a live lived thorough artificial means? It is fake, simulated physical and emotional risk that is, that must be, incomparable to its real human origins. Imitation can never be as good as the original.
So we, modern humanity, have given up our natures for simulations on a screen wishing that we were the ones behind the gun or kiss—and silently we mourn the death of some inner desire that longs for that life. We are taught from a young age the rule of safety—everything in this society is focused on living life within this parameter. Isn’t society better off for it? Aren’t we happier because we live longer lives than ever before in the history of mankind? Perhaps it is time to reconsider the meaning of life and the social rule that a long life is always preferable to a short one. The first question one asks of a deceased person is the age when he/she passed away. Why can life not be judged by the fullness of life and the impact it made instead of age? It is time to live life and judge it by fullness, not length; impact, and not wealth.
Sometimes to live life fully one must risk greatly. But is not an attempt at full human life worth the thousand daily deaths we die in this sterile environment? Would an early death pursuing full life not be considered gain?
These are the questions we must ask.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
secret memory monkey
Its an odd thing to realize that teachers actually cares sometimes. I had a class with this one professor last year, she was a good teacher, and even inspired me to go to university instead of hanging out around this joint. No big deal, profs inspire lots of students and change peoples course of thinking and lives daily so I figured she forgot about me. This is where there’s a plot twist because the assumed statement above is about to be proved untrue. Could it be possible that teachers actually care about there students? That they seek to impart knowledge and not gain dollar signs? That they remember names of students EVEN AFTER the school year is over? I thought it was just an idealistic myth created by school websites and freshmen, but apparently not.
I ran into one of my profs from last year who I haven’t seen in over 6 months not expecting too much. My jaw dropped in amazement not only as she called me by my name but started asking questions specific to my personal existence. There are only three explanations for how this can be: 1. She saw me in the hallway, looked up my file before I saw her, and then proceeded to act “surprised” to see me and ask questions. 2. She has a picture of me on her computer desktop and thinks about me daily. 3. She has a secret memory monkey who lives in a basement in Russia and speaks to her through an intracranial telekinetic communication device (you may know it better as the ITCD). There are no other possible explanations. In the interest of truth I seek to search, expose, and annihilate whoever this teachers informer is.
I ran into one of my profs from last year who I haven’t seen in over 6 months not expecting too much. My jaw dropped in amazement not only as she called me by my name but started asking questions specific to my personal existence. There are only three explanations for how this can be: 1. She saw me in the hallway, looked up my file before I saw her, and then proceeded to act “surprised” to see me and ask questions. 2. She has a picture of me on her computer desktop and thinks about me daily. 3. She has a secret memory monkey who lives in a basement in Russia and speaks to her through an intracranial telekinetic communication device (you may know it better as the ITCD). There are no other possible explanations. In the interest of truth I seek to search, expose, and annihilate whoever this teachers informer is.
Monday, October 23, 2006
sucker punch
Things I’ve been doing of late:
Provincial Emergency Program Search and Rescue Team Member Certification. (for people who like, drive off cliffs or get stuck rock climbing, or are stuck on a steep cliffy place. We get them out. Its pretty sweet, I’d recommend it)
Sleeping out on the streets of Vancouver waiting for a sale at Mountain Equipment Co-op to start the next day. Got some sweet $500 La Sportiva Nepal Evo mountaineering boots for $80, no big deal, ya know, they’re just boots and stuff.
Planning on climbing Mt. Baker this weekend; 12,500ft mountain just as a warm up for climbing Everest this summer. It’s not that big anyways.
Having sweet hang out sessions at my house just about everyday. Usually involving happy juice and dinner.
Trying to find me a pair of skis. Just a good pair of skis but not for 700 bones. And then getting a back country set up for all your backcountry ski dreams to come true.
Not having mid-terms. Because of all the outdoor leadership stuff this semester, we don’t have midterms. Its like being out of school watching everyone else stress out. I realized that I’ve never not been a student. And that if not being a student is this much fun, I wonder if I like the whole student thing. Hmm…
Provincial Emergency Program Search and Rescue Team Member Certification. (for people who like, drive off cliffs or get stuck rock climbing, or are stuck on a steep cliffy place. We get them out. Its pretty sweet, I’d recommend it)
Sleeping out on the streets of Vancouver waiting for a sale at Mountain Equipment Co-op to start the next day. Got some sweet $500 La Sportiva Nepal Evo mountaineering boots for $80, no big deal, ya know, they’re just boots and stuff.
Planning on climbing Mt. Baker this weekend; 12,500ft mountain just as a warm up for climbing Everest this summer. It’s not that big anyways.
Having sweet hang out sessions at my house just about everyday. Usually involving happy juice and dinner.
Trying to find me a pair of skis. Just a good pair of skis but not for 700 bones. And then getting a back country set up for all your backcountry ski dreams to come true.
Not having mid-terms. Because of all the outdoor leadership stuff this semester, we don’t have midterms. Its like being out of school watching everyone else stress out. I realized that I’ve never not been a student. And that if not being a student is this much fun, I wonder if I like the whole student thing. Hmm…
Saturday, September 30, 2006
love and cheerio's
Although I have absolutely no experience on the matter, it would seem to me that love is perhaps the most impossible of anythings to fake; though not for lack of trying. True, I am no expert on the matter, but having little experience increases one’s ability to observe from an objective stance, what people call love.
On considerably more than a few occasions I have had friends who find themselves "the one", the one to complete all dreams, to satisfy every little corner of their insecure hearts, and surpass every prerequisite (save for Bible College students who have no prerequisites, but that’s another matter) they could have ever dreamt up. “She’s got to be the one” is followed by a list of reasons proving beyond any doubt why this statement is true. And, if at Bible College, the victim will go even farther to say that it is “Gods will” for them to be together. The turning point comes when the newly supposed “in love” couple separates for a semi-extended period of time (usually between 2-6 months, in rare cases over 1 year) at which point, like clockwork, one or the other looses “feelings” for the other person and the axe fastly descends. The exception to this last part is, of course, Bible College where one or the other states that “God told me to break up with you” usually resulting in profound confusion by the receiver of the statement and a retaliatory, “but he never told me!” But really, it’s a loosing argument, how can one argue with special revelation happening right in front your face in the form of your partner breaking up with you? It’s selfish, really.
The question is, was that love?
I would suggest that the above scenario was the same kind of love that I love honey nut cheerio’s with. It tastes great, feels good, I say that I love it, but I also know that it is unlikely to last too long. After a while I know that I will discover some new cereal that will taste even better, though for now honey nut and I are in the proverbial spring time of our relationship.
Whatever the analogy, the point is that people call feelings/emotions love. But that seems lacking. Others say commitment for life is love, but that seems too cold and concrete. Or is love an action, a verb? A combination of all of the above? Does anyone even know what they’re talking about when they claim to have “fallen in love”? Surely it is something that may naturally happen but in all cases does not naturally stay.
I think I’ll just stick to honey nut cheerio’s.
On considerably more than a few occasions I have had friends who find themselves "the one", the one to complete all dreams, to satisfy every little corner of their insecure hearts, and surpass every prerequisite (save for Bible College students who have no prerequisites, but that’s another matter) they could have ever dreamt up. “She’s got to be the one” is followed by a list of reasons proving beyond any doubt why this statement is true. And, if at Bible College, the victim will go even farther to say that it is “Gods will” for them to be together. The turning point comes when the newly supposed “in love” couple separates for a semi-extended period of time (usually between 2-6 months, in rare cases over 1 year) at which point, like clockwork, one or the other looses “feelings” for the other person and the axe fastly descends. The exception to this last part is, of course, Bible College where one or the other states that “God told me to break up with you” usually resulting in profound confusion by the receiver of the statement and a retaliatory, “but he never told me!” But really, it’s a loosing argument, how can one argue with special revelation happening right in front your face in the form of your partner breaking up with you? It’s selfish, really.
The question is, was that love?
I would suggest that the above scenario was the same kind of love that I love honey nut cheerio’s with. It tastes great, feels good, I say that I love it, but I also know that it is unlikely to last too long. After a while I know that I will discover some new cereal that will taste even better, though for now honey nut and I are in the proverbial spring time of our relationship.
Whatever the analogy, the point is that people call feelings/emotions love. But that seems lacking. Others say commitment for life is love, but that seems too cold and concrete. Or is love an action, a verb? A combination of all of the above? Does anyone even know what they’re talking about when they claim to have “fallen in love”? Surely it is something that may naturally happen but in all cases does not naturally stay.
I think I’ll just stick to honey nut cheerio’s.
Friday, September 22, 2006
College Dropout
Dear friends, companions, country men, and kin:
Accept my most profuse apologies for the lack of news concerning my current state of affairs. It was two days after my arrival in N America when the recommencement of the school year was held. The very next day a courageous and, some would say daring group of Outdoor Leadership students began a pilgrimage to one of the worlds last strongholds of evil: Squamish. The mission: to climb with all modern technical tools, the high, nigh impossible solid granite walls of Squamish. So basically a group of guys and I took an 8 day rock course based in Squamish, which is right out of Vancouver. So now I’m practically pro. If you feel obliged you can even frame a picture of me, put it on a shelf in a dark corner, and then burn incense, light candles and say things in low unintelligible tones while making upside-down “OK” signs with your fingers. If any of you need a picture of me just let me know and I’ll send you one with an autograph on the back of it.
Immediately after the rock course the group of guys proceeded to partake in another 8 day course, this time studying mountaineering—with an emphasis on glacier travel and navigation. A few of the guys even fell into crevasses just like they do on vertical limit...but no one died—which is kind of the point. But I have to admit we all looked pretty hardcore walking around with ice axes, helmets, harnesses, crampons etc. even though in reality we had no idea what we were doing for the first part at least. The transition from Japan to BC I believe is worth mentioning at this point. Two weeks ago I was in Japan experiencing extremely deathly intense heat and nigh 100% humidity. Yesterday I was on top of Hartzel (a relatively low peak but technical nonetheless) in -7c temperatures, or -15c with wind-chill freezing my leftover tan off my icy body. Depressing...somewhat, but you get some you lose a tan. Its a high price to pay.
In other news, I have officially achieved the status of “College Dropout”. Having just arrived back from my various pilgrimages and mountaineering ventures today I received an ill timed letter in my mail box stating that if I did not come and talk to the financial office by 4:00 my studies will be terminated pending me giving them money. Having opened the letter by 6:00 this evening I am officially a college dropout. Luckily, because I am best friends with the financial lady at school I may be able to weasel my way out of this mess. I’ll just have to remember to turn on the old charm and bust out the sweet cute look I do so well.
Accept my most profuse apologies for the lack of news concerning my current state of affairs. It was two days after my arrival in N America when the recommencement of the school year was held. The very next day a courageous and, some would say daring group of Outdoor Leadership students began a pilgrimage to one of the worlds last strongholds of evil: Squamish. The mission: to climb with all modern technical tools, the high, nigh impossible solid granite walls of Squamish. So basically a group of guys and I took an 8 day rock course based in Squamish, which is right out of Vancouver. So now I’m practically pro. If you feel obliged you can even frame a picture of me, put it on a shelf in a dark corner, and then burn incense, light candles and say things in low unintelligible tones while making upside-down “OK” signs with your fingers. If any of you need a picture of me just let me know and I’ll send you one with an autograph on the back of it.
Immediately after the rock course the group of guys proceeded to partake in another 8 day course, this time studying mountaineering—with an emphasis on glacier travel and navigation. A few of the guys even fell into crevasses just like they do on vertical limit...but no one died—which is kind of the point. But I have to admit we all looked pretty hardcore walking around with ice axes, helmets, harnesses, crampons etc. even though in reality we had no idea what we were doing for the first part at least. The transition from Japan to BC I believe is worth mentioning at this point. Two weeks ago I was in Japan experiencing extremely deathly intense heat and nigh 100% humidity. Yesterday I was on top of Hartzel (a relatively low peak but technical nonetheless) in -7c temperatures, or -15c with wind-chill freezing my leftover tan off my icy body. Depressing...somewhat, but you get some you lose a tan. Its a high price to pay.
In other news, I have officially achieved the status of “College Dropout”. Having just arrived back from my various pilgrimages and mountaineering ventures today I received an ill timed letter in my mail box stating that if I did not come and talk to the financial office by 4:00 my studies will be terminated pending me giving them money. Having opened the letter by 6:00 this evening I am officially a college dropout. Luckily, because I am best friends with the financial lady at school I may be able to weasel my way out of this mess. I’ll just have to remember to turn on the old charm and bust out the sweet cute look I do so well.
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