The clock struck twelve. The night was still. Only the sound of gently tapping rain could be heard on the tin roof in the intervals between surges of swelling surf on the ocean. In the placid silence something was awry, she could feel it somewhere down in her lower left pinky toe. Her steady hazel eyes examined the ghostly horizon lit only by the pale moon. At that moment perhaps the most extraordinary, history altering event took place.
Did you really think I was about to write a dramatic story? Ha! Oh man, gets me every time. You should’a seen the way you looked when you started reading that story. Brilliant. Anyways, I wanted to wish you all a happy Belated April Fools Anniversary. January 1st was the 8 month anniversary of April fools since April 2006, so I thought I’d do some “fooling” of my own, if you know what I mean. And just how many times can I mention “April” in one paragraph? Apparently a lot…and then some. But that’s no reason not to say “gotcha!” Haha!
Now onto business; exactly the nature of the very important business I have to discuss? It is either too classified to write in this entry, or there is none at all. Perhaps the unnamed writer of this entry who you assume to be, for all practical and experiential purposes someone named brent is actually a telemarketer in India eating kim-chi or whatever it is they eat in Africa. Suffice it to say, now that I have got you wondering why in the world you are wasting your precious (and as you continue reading) decreasing brainwaves on this literacy and emotional stability test, I am ready to disclose the thesis statement of this entry:
America. (which is actually a word, not a thesis…I got my poetic license yesterday alright? Get off my back). Now that I have been living here for almost a month I feel that I am a professional on the subject and following are a list of my most poignant, though be it provoking thoughts for some:
1. Variability.
Contrary to what many people would like to think about America (I too, was once one of these) Americans are not all the same. For example, overseas one will hear many people say all Americans are fat. CASE IN POINT. From my personal experience I can personally attest to you that in fact, not all Americans are obese. Would you like to rebuttle by saying that the majority of Americans are fat? I have no idea. And I would suggest that unless you have some verifiable facts under your belt, neither do you so we should end this discussion now.
2. Political diversity.
Overseas or across the border many people equate Americans with Bush fanatics. Its like the eagle on the cover of each American passport is a testament to one’s undying love and commitment to A. Bush and B. blowing up the rest of the planet that is not owned by Bush, stealing their oil, plundering natural resources, and enslaving cheap labor in Asia. I am pleased to announce that not only are there the kind of people in America who do not like Bush, but there are other kinds of people too. WOW. I know, Heads are probably exploding even as you read this.
Which is why I will leave this entry here. Stand by for the next edition of exploding heads.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Friday, December 15, 2006
a study in Christmas rage: the international conspiracy of Christmas
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.
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.
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.
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