the end is not yet

Many of you have commented. Thank you! Please continue.

A bunch of us went to the Dance Cave tonight to celebrate Halloween and Jer and Christen's birthdays. The costume worked well.

I was the victim of a vampire seductress.

I wore black dress pants and a white collared shirt. The skin under my eyes was lightly blackened. A big red lipstick print was on my cheek and another on my throat with a half inch gap between the lips. Two trickles of blood trailed down from between the lips.

For a limited time only, you can comment on my posts. Use this gift lots and I might leave it on. But it's kind of depressing if people don't comment, so I won't hesitate to turn it off again.

Why is it that after writing the last post I feel I need to clarify that while I was at a bar with a woman last night, it wasn't a date or a 'hooking up' situation? All I did was state the facts, and yet I'm sure some of you jumped to the wrong conclusion.

I'm at some bar with a woman from my program and her roommate Paige. Paige is talking to someone and they're both looking over at me. A lot. And talking. I look back and raise an eyebrow.

P: You've been reminding me of someone all night and I just realized who.

I grin because I know what's coming.

P: [to the guy she's been talking to] Doesn't he look like him?
The guy: [shrugs] Yeah, I guess...
P: [to me] You look just like Edward Norton.

I laugh hard.

P: Do you get that a lot?

This will never stop amusing me. Personally, I don't see it. The woman from my program didn't see it either. But people keep telling me this. Either Norton or Wes from Angel.

If you haven't updated in the last two weeks, or in three days from NOW, you come off the list of blogs and journals that I visit. I'm tired of going to sites that don't update.

I'm not a good man.

I try to be, but ultimately, I fail.

I'm no nice guy. I'm an asshole. A bastard. Accept it. Or not. I don't give a damn.

In all areas of his life these days, Aaron is:
a) Spinning his wheels.
b) Coasting.
c) Going through the motions.

Don't get me wrong. I'm doing well in classes. I'm getting very close to people that I like a great deal. I love the city. This life has become mine. I'm on the right path. I just want to be five years further along that path than I am now, with the people who are with me on it right now.

Happy Birthday Jer!!

In magazine class yesterday I decided to indulge a craving.

The craving had been there since Monday night when I finished my workout. I pushed hard on the stairs, sprinting the last three of 60 storeys. Maybe too hard. After finishing the workout, my hands shook for a long time after I showered and stared frowning into the fridge.

I wanted red meat and it wasn't there.

It not being there was no surprise, but wanting it was.

For three years I avoided it and now the mere thought of it was making my mouth water.

So after magazine class I dragged Shannon through the school with me to Harvey's and picked up a hamburger and fries. She got grilled chicken on a bun. We took them back to the caf and found our regular group.

I unwrapped the burger and bit into it as Shannon ate my burnt fries.

Few burgers have ever tasted so good to me.

Jer thinks I'm imaginative, but respectfully disagrees with my taste in mindless entertainment.

Why imaginative? Because my costume for Halloween will be very fun. And, no, I'm not telling what it's going to be. Not yet, anyway. After Halloween.

And I don't want to have all their babies. Maybe Hegl's though...

The only thing to do when the universe seems to be laughing at you is to join in.

Every so often, I get the urge to listen to one song at least once a day. Funny that I get something different from it each period of my life that I'm drawn back to it.

So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
And nothing else matters

Trust I seek and find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever tursting who we are
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they do
Never cared for what they know
But I know

Never opened myself this way
Life is ours, we live it our way
All these words I don't just say
Trust I seek and I find in you
Every day for us something new
Open mind for a different view
And nothing else matters

Never cared for what they say
Never cared for games they play
Never card for what they do
Never cared for what they know
And I know

So close no matter how far
Couldn't be much more from the heart
Forever trusting who we are
No nothing else matters

- 'Nothing else matters', Metallica

Ice cubes cool the burn of whisky too much.

Okay, I'm not really one for posting song lyrics, but I've been mainlining Dave Matthews Band's Crash since waking up and this batch from 'Too much' caught my ear.

I told, god, I'm coming
to your country
I'm going to eat up your cities,
your homes, you know
I've got a stomach full it's not
a chip on my shoulder
I've got this growl in my tummy
and I'm gonna stop it today

I eat too much
I drink too much
I want too much
Too much

Suck it up...

As Shannon drove Jer and I home from school this afternoon I realized I was in the kind of mood where I wanted to drink myself into a stupor.

Nothing was wrong. Nothing bad had happened. I was just feeling sleepy and lazy and like oblivion mightn't be such a bad thing.

I even thought about starting the drinking once I got in the door and continuing until I fell asleep.

Thankfully, I realized that it was oblivion I was really craving and not actually a drunken stupor.

So instead of pouring myself something to drink, I poured myself into bed and took a quick nap that turned into a three hour sleep.

I guess it's not really surprising that it feels like Sunday now. I regularly get that much sleep in a night.

So I woke up at 6 p.m., wandered bleary eyed from my room and found a note from Jer saying he was at Brian's.

Still largely unable to think in complete thoughts, I flipped on the computer. Checked my email and found nothing from Christa. Logged into MSN. Read blogs. Fired a quick message at Shannon from Humber to see if she'd gone home for the weekend yet. Read that Brian has an upcoming job interview.

At some point, the synapses started firing in sequence and I got up to call Brian. We talked some, I told him I had some stuff to do, but if I finished it up in good time I might stop by later.

I wandered back to the computer and found that Shannon hadn't yet left for the weekend. We talked some, she disappeared for the weekend and I debated getting up to do the two remaining things on my list. Shannon from Guelph growled at me, sending an MSN message of "grrr." I hadn't talked to her for a while, so we chatted some. Then she had to go.

I yawned and thought some more about getting up to do stuff. I could be done in a few hours if I wanted. All I have left to do today is get some exercise and cook. I'm up to sixty storeys of stair running and fifty full sit-ups and far less super strict pushups than satisfies me. And I'm planning on cooking some tandoori chicken.

Instead, I logged into Blogger, started a new entry and typed "Lazy and almost grumpy."

Then I got an MSN message from Christa.

At least I'm procrastinating by doing worthwhile things.

For my magazine writing class, I wrote a service article about sleepiness. For it, I interviewed a doctor from a local sleep clinic.

During the interview I learned that the idea that you can short yourself on sleep all week and catch up by sleeping in on weekends is crap. If you're significantly sleep deprived, it can take up to a month of getting more sleep each night to feel completely better. You've really got to just put the pillow time in and 'pay back the sleep debt.' It's very simple to know if you're in debt. If you're tired through the day, you're not getting enough sleep. If you're not getting enough sleep you're in debt. The longer, the bigger the debt.

I've been sleepy through the day for at least the last six months.

So, I've been trying to get more sleep the last couple nights. Tuesday night I was in bed by 11 p.m. I woke up once at 2:30 a.m. and got up for a bit before going back to bed.

During the day I had all sorts of excess energy and didn't know what to do with it. I was sitting in layout class practically ready to explode in all directions at once.

"If this is how I feel after only a single night of good rest, I'm afraid of what I'll be like after a month," I said.

"Me too," said Shannon.

Last night I was in bed by 10:30 p.m. and woke up briefly twice through the night. But for the first time since moving here, I woke up easily at 6 a.m.

Now, at 8:30 p.m. I'm exhausted. I'm going to do the dishes, make my lunch and maybe I'll be asleep by 10 p.m.

Why is it that my self-restraint is nearly total in some areas and nearly absent in others?

There are many examples to pick from these days, but here's a fairly innocuous one: There was a book sale at school today. I picked up not one, but two Calvin & Hobbes books.

Off.

On.

That's what my mind did twenty minutes ago.

Asleep.

Awake.

No groggy fumble toward alertness. No gradual awareness of something other than blackness. No blaring alarm to prompt the whole process. Just 'off', then 'on.'

I opened my eyes in the pitch black, just suddenly awake. Praying it was later than I thought it was, I leaned over and brought my little travel alarm up to my face.

2:30 a.m.

Bloody marvelous.

Only four hours before I should be getting up. At least I have three and a half hours of sleep already under my belt. Oddly, that's exactly how much sleep I got Monday night... Hmmm...

Last night was fun.

I was originally supposed to watch Donnie Darko with Steph. We've both been in the city nearly two months and she still hasn't seen my place. Of course, I'm not much better. I only saw hers last weekend when she invited me to her boyfriend Jay's birthday party. Anyway, the poor busy woman bailed on me.

No worries though, since Christen from Humber had organized a bunch of us j-school kids to go out. That occupied the first half of my night. Talking to Christa took the second half.

I met Christen at the Bathurst station and we walked along Bloor to Pauper's. Seeing nobody from our class, we settled into a booth to talk and watch for the others.

Jer appeared not long later, having been on the second floor of Pauper's with Laura and Eden from our building and a few of Laura's friends. They'd all been to a youth poetry reading and Jer had won a book. I'm sure he'll mention it on his blog, so go there for details if curious.

After we all chatted a bit, Jer said he should get back to his beer and the people he'd left upstairs. Christen and I said we would stay down for a bit before following, sending people up his way since there was more room upstairs. Jer left. We talked and sipped our drinks and waited for others to show.

I've come to enjoy sipping whisky straight, and was doing that last night. I don't know how you're supposed to do it, only how I do it.

You hold it for a moment under your nose, breathing in and letting its smell warm you all the way back to the throat. Then you take a sip and hold it on your tongue, feeling its warmth spread. Then you slowly swallow and let it burn its way down your throat, spreading heat down through the chest into the belly.

It only hurts if you don't control it and instead toss it back like a shot. It's perfect for sitting in a pub and taking your time as you chat and wait for more people to show.

We thought Emina had done just that, but never saw her face. She took a few steps in, then turned and left, turning to go upstairs. That was when I saw her. Or who I thought was her. The long, light blue jacket was right and the shoulder length brown hair was right.

Christen thought it was her too.

Eventually Scott arrived and then Andy and a friend of his. We all went upstairs and listened to loud live music for a time, shouting conversation to each other. Wanting something I could drink faster, I switched to rye and coke.

Emina wasn't there, which puzzled Christen and I since everybody was gathered at the booths right by the stairs.

"We're a little light on the estrogen tonight," I commented to her, pointing out that she was the only woman from our class to show up.

Dave showed up after finishing work.

I changed seats four or five times, barely sitting anywhere long enough to finish a drink before someone trapped on the other side of me had to get up to use the facilities or get a drink. Laura and her friends left and Jer eventually convinced everybody to go down the street to the Dance Cave.

That was when I took my leave. Comfortably buzzed, I was about ready to call it a night anyway.

"You're going?" Christen asked as I stood on the street with them all outside Pauper's.

"Yup," I said, grinning. "I don't dance."

"Don't dance?" Jer said and made a noise that sounded like Pfft.

I laughed and waved and turned and left.

Twenty minutes later I was in the apartment. Curious, I booted the computer and went in search of Christa. She'd dropped off the face of the planet earlier that week. I'd seen no sign of her on either of her blogs, on MSN or in my inbox.

I know that's a name that hasn't been mentioned here for a while. And now that I think about it, I never said here what the deal is there. In fact, I rarely ever talk about this with anybody, so you're probably all due an update.

Christa and I saw each other for two months before she left for Australia and got very close very fast. She's been gone for nearly four months. She returns in two. When she returns, we plan to begin seeing each other again. Those words were chosen carefully, so infer whatever you like from them. We stay in touch and still clearly have strong feelings for each other.

But with her on the other side of the planet, we're in limbo and it's slowly gutting me. However, it's a lot better now than it was in the first month that she was gone. After being hurt badly and walking alone for nearly a year, I'd let someone take my hand again. Then circumstances had pulled her around the world. In the first month I was an open wound and everything hurt. Now I'm scar tissue and it's just a matter of waiting it out.

I signed into MSN and went to her old blog as MSN connected. I received a message from her before her blog even loaded. We chatted as I found a new entry on her old blog, a new entry on her Australia blog and an email from her in my inbox.

As we talked, I ate far more than I should have had an appetite for considering that I'd had my three squares before going out.

I fixed myself a sandwich. I ate several handfuls of peanuts. I had a bowl of blueberries and Cool Whip. I ate chocolate. Finally I said screw it and cooked myself a pot of pasta, heated some sauce, buttered some bread and ate it all.

Even then I wasn't entirely satisfied.

Imagine my surprise just now when I came back online, checked my last post and found two paragraphs of stuff I didn't write spliced into the end of the post. Then, when I scrolled down a little, I found the full original post without the add-on right below the messed up post.

I've deleted the messed up post and am still scratching my head.

I decided that last night I was going to embrace my Irish roots.

Which is why I was eating a big plate of potatoe wedges and sipping whiskey as I watched cartoons with a bunch of people.

The "whiskey" was a Canadian rye that Jer had rightfully pointed out doesn't count if you want to embrace your Irish roots. Still, it said "whiskey" on the bottle, and that was enough for me. I figured that if I was going to mix it with coke, it really didn't matter.

The cartoon was Invader Zim, and had nothing to do with embracing my heritage.

Joy had introduced Jer and I to the little inept alien invader when she bought the first two volumes on DVD the weekend of the housewarming party. Normally not a fan of cartoons, I'd been skeptical. Right up until I laughed my ass off and decided I needed to own it.

I'd made plans to watch it with Shannon from class Wednesday night but put off the purchase until the proverbial last minute.

Boom.

That was my brain crashing. I don't know where I was going with this post. I can't write anymore. I'll sum up the rest of what I was going to say and post.

Jer, Shannon and I watched a bunch of Zim last night. So did a bunch of other people I wasn't expecting. Which was cool. I drank whiskey and ate potatoes. Which was fun because it let me laugh at myself. That's always a good thing.

I'm not exactly sure why I felt I needed a great big post to convey a paragraph of information, or even why I wanted to convey that information. Screw it. I'm going to watch Roswell.

Oil prices have soared nearly 70 per cent higher from a year ago, fuelled by fears that global demand for crude has outpaced supply.
- oil closes at record high; theglobeandmail.com; roma luciw

This is freaking me out a little. Has anybody else been following this?

"The theory out there ... is that because of the fast growth of the teenage brain, until it stabilizes at the age of 24, a teenager is not able to control their actions or make logical judgments with regards to proper behaviour," Justice of the Peace Richard Quon said in his recent ruling that freed Brendon Larkin, described in court as a danger to society.
-'teen brain syndrome' gets bail for accused; toronto star; nick pron, courts bureau; october 7, 2004

Later, a bit of research is cited.

"Recent scientific studies on brain imaging have shown that such grey matter as the prefrontal cortex does keep developing into the late teens and even the early 20s."

Then, the JP is quoted again.

"Unfortunately we can't lock all teenagers up until the age of 24 when their brain sort of shrinks back to normal."

I don't envy Nick Pron the task of having to write this piece, because in my opinion (and long-time readers may recall my degree was in criminal justice & public policy) this ruling is sheer stupidity.

Here's a bit of why.

"The theory out there..."

Among who? Justices of the peace? Researchers? Truckers swilling coffee as they read about the latest young offender up on charges?

I'm curious what was cut between "out there" and "is that." Did the JP give a source for this theory? If so, why was that cut?

"...a teenager is not able to control their actions or make logical judgments with regards to proper behaviour..."

So we make it legal for them to gamble, buy porn, drive a car and enlist in the military? Sounds like a reasonable list of things to allow people who can't control their actions or make logical judgments.

"Recent scientific studies..."

Even if the brain growth thing is true, that's not enough on its own for a causal link between brain size/growth and the ability to control actions or make logical judgments.

And even if it was enough to make such a link, then how can this JP say that's what was to blame for this young person's actions? Was a brain scan ordered? Because if this theory is sound, then you should be able to scan someone's brain to find out if they're one of the ones whose brains haven't finished developing.

Other questions that leave me fuming:

Did Quon actually say it was unfortunate that we can't lock people up until they're 24?
If he believed Larkin couldn't be held responsible for his violent actions, why did he release him?

We try to leave the apartment every morning at 7:15 a.m. We hope on the Bathurst bus, take it south to Bathurst station, ride the subway west to Kipling, then take a bus up 27 to Humber.

This morning my alarm woke me at 6:15 a.m. I turned it off. I blinked. I blinked again. Jer knocked on my door and asked if it was up. I looked at the clock, saw it was 7:00 a.m. and swore loudly and stumbled blearily to the shower.

Some variation of this has played out every morning this week.

Which is why for my first ever service piece for magazine writing class, I'm writing a how-to-wake-up-early-feeling-refreshed piece.

The handle on the outside of Jon's passenger door didn't work.

He was parked outside the little old house I lived in back in fourth year. The snow was thick on the ground, the sun was blazing and the sky was a blinding blue.

He leaned across, let me in and asked if I wanted to go to a psychic fair.

Not long later I was parked across a table from a middle age woman as a tape recorder rolled. She closed her eyes and took my hands. The instant she did, she leaned back a little, smiled and opened her eyes.

"Your mind," she said. "It's like a great room full of filing cabinets. Everything is filed away very carefully. Everything has a place."

The filing cabinets are a little too far apart these days.

It seems my entire life I've been searching for a system that works for me. I've searched for one that works for me on all levels.

I've found pieces.

From philosophy: taoism and stoicism. From my dad, my sensei and Spenser: various codes of honour. From the Villain Project: the principles of villainy.

They work on different levels, in different situations. Like physicists dealing with different phenomena, I know what files to pull to get the theories I need for the current situation.

For circumstances beyond my control, stoicism. For questions of how to act, honour. For peace with my place in the world, taoism. For having fun in my life, villainy.

But in turning to one, I feel I've turned away from the rest and am plagued with cognitive dissonance.

Like physicists, I need a grand unified theory. My 'new' project is to finish a lifelong pursuit of one system that will work on all levels and in all situations.

Yes, I'm serious. My tongue is also firmly planted in my cheek. I'm comfortable with that.

Aaron sits at the computer about to write a blog entry. Jer wanders to the door from the livingroom.

Jer: By the way, I ate the rest of your chips.
Aaron: [Coughs]
J: Yeah, I took a handful and then another handful and they were gone. I'll get you another bag.
A: No worries. I can't seem to finish a bag anyway.
J: Apparently not! There's still a bag of Smart Food in there from a month ago!
A: [Laughs] If you want it and it's not stale, take it.

Jer walks away. There's a rustle from the kitchen. Then the livingroom.

J: [Whines] I hate Smart Food.
A: Are you having it?

Jer appears in the doorway, his eyes bright and his hand buried in the bag.

J: Yes! What of it!?

The little square of chocolate wasn't enough. So I had a sandwich, a bowl of blueberries mixed with whipped cream and an apple. I'm full now.

I had a large lunch. Why am I so hungry already? I'm going in search of chocolate.

I think it's about time to rededicate myself to villainy. Wish me luck.

For a look at what happened last time, check out the Villainy Project.

I love this entry. I think I need a new project.

I was standing on the bus today with Joy, Ian, and Jer. We were on our way to the Vesta Lunch for a greasy breakfast after a long night of party havok held here and a too short period of sleep. Ian and Jer will probably disagree with me on the last. I guess they have a point, as it was noon.

I don't remember the context of her words, but at some point Joy pointed something out.

"Your blog has been depressing lately," she said.

She's right.

The important thing to remember is that while the entries may be depressing lately, I haven't been depressed. Granted, I haven't exactly been wandering around in a state of bliss either.

I've been quoted on a few blogs recently for something I wrote to Ian in an email. To put it in context, I had just started blogging again after nearly a month off. Ian had said in an email it was good that I was back at it.

I wrote:

It's odd. I think that blogging was keeping me sane and my outlook positive. I tended to work a lot of things out while blogging and to share the things that were good that were going on. When I wasn't blogging, it was too easy to focus on the rest of the stuff going on. Not all of which is happy. It's not that the water level in the glass was any different. It was all in how I look at the glass. For some reason, when blogging, I don't see it as half empty.

I'm a natural pessimist. But I spent a long time learning that my natural tendencies do not make for a cheerful existence. When things are going well, as they were about three months ago, it's easy to see the glass as half full.

When things aren't going well, like now, it's much more difficult. I've found that at times like these, I need to constantly work at not seeing the glass as half empty.

Blogging forces me to do that. The blogging I did last year changed the way I look at the world for the better. My mistake was in taking a break. I'm blogging again, so while things still aren't blissful, I'm fine. I'm dealing. The world isn't a dark and dreary place. This is where I remind myself that.