Job Detox

Quite often I think about the job I left half a year ago and for fun/torment I will ask myself if I made the right decision. For most people I worked with they would never consider leaving without having something else lined up. Most of them there are probably going to be lifers.

If your mind is not that complex your thought process will stop at, no better job prospects…no quit.  My monkey mind often visits those fear and culturally based notions, and to answer them I have to remember the philosophy that I developed and believe in.

I still think about my last job because I haven’t completely moved on yet. I only volunteer a fraction of my available time and the uncertainty of my future doesn’t make for a totally carefree existence.

There’s a linear progression of, get training, get career, stay at career, that has shown success or at least the appearance of it. I guess when 80% of people jump off a bridge, many of them are going to live. You don’t hear enough about the people who quit their career, pondered about their life, started over, succeeded and lived happily ever after.

I don’t know what’s going to happen but it’s almost guaranteed that this route I chose will be far more interesting than staying at the same company for another 25-30 years. Security and stability is very unexciting. With no dental plan anymore though I can’t even be certain that I will have teeth in the future.

Just like all other generations now and before us, when you don’t have seemingly rational reasons to justify your hopes you just have to have faith.




Hanging with Old People

In about an hour I have to meet up with another volunteer at a supermarket to deliver groceries to old people. I’ve never met this guy so I’m not looking forward to the conversation of “so what do you do?” I’m also not looking forward to be entertaining for the purpose of avoiding awkward silence.

He’s like 70 which probably means I’m going to get some old guy lecture. He likely knows a bit about me from talking to other volunteers as I know a bit about him. In his working years he held a position close to the status of being the mayor of the city. It’s good to tell people that you have no job so that there’s a chance they can help you find something to do. It’s my way of networking.

When you’re wearing a uniform it’s a sign of employment telling people you have a job and you’re not looking for another one. It’s like trying to meet women when your wife is always around.

I’m sure he’s more fun than the other old guy who has a 10 and 2 eagle’s grip on the steering wheel at all times. He feels guilty or embarrassed when he laughs like it’s some kind of perverted sin.

As long as no one has a heart attack today I’ll consider it a good day. Wish me luck.


Record Loss


(Written in November)

At my mother’s old house there were a pile of records left there by the previous owner back in 1992. They were all music from the 50’s to 70’s which to my 14-year-old self meant they were garbage. I’ve never heard of these old dudes in outdated fashion so this music must suck, so I thought in my head.

I didn’t really get into music outside of top 40 until after high school but even then it was limited. For whatever reason in 2008, I decided to pick out a few to take for myself.

The Elton John songs I recognized and liked.

I didn’t know who Buddy Miles was but I knew the name and I was getting into blues guitar at that time. Plus the cover looked pretty badass.

That record with 50’s music…I’m not sure why I picked it out of the bunch but I guess it had to do something with some of the artists and songs I recognized.

The Platters – Only You
Connie Francis – Who’s Sorry Now
Chuck Berry – Sweet Little Sixteen

There was also the Thriller album from Michael Jackson. I gave that away to a girl I knew who was a huge Michael Jackson fan. Bad move. Don’t give good stuff away to women.

The other one I can remember taking was a Jimi Hendrix one. If it’s still around it’s sitting at a friend’s place who I may never see again because if I make arrangements to meet up then that would break my streak of not seeing him and then I would have to start all over. He’s actually a pretty good guy in my books but I’m not too crazy about revisiting certain factions from my past friends if I can help it.

Just recently, I took them records to the old guy’s place just to see if they worked. They did! Well, one did anyway. We didn’t get a chance to test the others but I’m sure they’re fine.  I enjoyed the static the records produced. I think I’m an old soul.

I hope one day I will have the opportunity to drink wine while listening to records and then pathetically pass out on the floor while the record continuously skips. It’s always been a dream of mine.

The rest of the pile of about 50 records are long gone because my mother threw them out otherwise they’d be with me now. Oh well. Maybe I’ll look into filing a lawsuit against her.

I’ve had thoughts of getting some kind of record player but with no income right now, I’ll have to hope that Santa Claus is real again.


Painful Introspection

Self-reflection can be a son of a bastard. The reflection of yourself from a mirror 10 meters away allows you to believe anything you want. You can come closer to see the blemishes on the surface but you need to painfully open yourself up with a knife to see the inside.

In your 20’s you can chalk up all flaws and failures to external factors and the idea that it just hasn’t happened for you yet. A short journey from home doesn’t give one much perspective but a long enough travel allows you to compare your patterns and path to others.

To see where I have strayed alone so often when others have mixed footsteps together to meet at a similar destination forces me to question the nature of my behaviour and the origin from where it was birthed.

With not enough deficiencies to significantly hinder one’s life, the need for introspection and self-improvement does not make the bucket list. The possibility of poor character and shortcomings deflect off of the protective ego. Ignorance is bliss.

Time you cannot get back nor can you postpone. Travelling so far from home wandering halfway through life just to trek all the way back to reinspect where you came from is a mental beating. When it all makes sense it also makes torment. Living life blindly and ineffectively is a waste once you are able to see.

Playing the role of a victim can only come after one believes there was a perpetrator. It stops the bleeding but the wounds never heal. It’s a more calming position to be in than being unaware of the root of your frustrations but it’s not progressive.

Your circumstances may be of no fault of your own but you still have to live with them and the predispositions that they offer. Having to navigate life with a collection of unrecognized disabilities garners no compensation or sympathy.

The past will become your future if you refuse or are unable to acknowledge the problematic issues. The more time that goes by the more likely your past and present will solidify into your future. There’s often a point of no return.



How to Have an Unsuccessful Blog

I’ve been blogging regularly for about 5 years and my success level is only a little higher than what it would be if I just wrote on paper and put it in my underwear drawer.

When I say successful I am referring to consistent ‘likes’ in the double digits and at least some comments for every post. I always get some ‘likes’ but I’m convinced half of them and sometimes all of them are those fake likers. There’s this one guy who will like the same post with 4 different accounts.

There are certain opinions and words that will disgust people and I have probably written on all of them in a very politically incorrect manner that sometimes borders on very offensive even though my intentions were to be entertaining.

“That’s so gay.” Lost a few readers there.

“The bible is a fairy tale.” Lost a few readers there.

“Being fat is probably your fault.” Lost a few readers there.

“Having kids is selfish.” Lost some readers there.

“Not beating your woman for one day is the best Valentine’s gift a man can give.” Lost 10 readers there.

Talking about suicide isn’t a very well received subject either. Using the word, “whore” extensively also doesn’t help.

There tends to be a bait and switch thing going on here too. Some start reading my blog posts because they expect it to always be humorous and then I get deeply depressing, negative or just too serious for them. And vice versa.

The other thing that I don’t do much of is find new blogs to ‘like,’ ‘follow’ and comment on. Many bloggers found my blog from my comments on mutually read blogs. I’ve never done the shameless self-promoting method of blind liking.

The best demographic you can get is the older folk because they usually don’t have much to do and less friends so they will be less likely to leave the WordPress world. I come off kind of immature sometimes so I tend to not get the 45 and above crowd too often.

Every year there’s an overhaul of readers. Some I may have offended away, some probably got bored here and others just left the blogging world. I will always feel nostalgia for all of them especially the ones that left sincere and kind comments. To have people read the crap that comes out of my mind without any solicitation from my part is flattering. I cherish the silent readers as well. You know who you are even if I never will.

As long as I am convinced that a blog post I’ve written has at least one real view I am somewhat satisfied. I could be full of shit. It’s sad to get zero views though. Might as well have just kept it offline and saved it on Microsoft Word.

Some might be thinking, your blog is unsuccessful because it sucks! Well, I can’t prove that it doesn’t but I’m not going anywhere. So until next time. Goodnight.



Grade 1 with no Smiles

1986 was an exciting year. Wing peed his pants during story time, Dawn ate her pencils and erasers, and they sent me to the English Learning Centre because I was so quiet they figured it was because of poor English speaking skills.

If your kid fails grade 1, you might as well throw in the towel because chances are your kid isn’t going to graduate high school. They’re better off staying home to do chores until they can find someone who will accept child labour.

Wing lived down the street from me so we would get together sometimes. We saw jets in the sky one day and he told me that his father was away flying jets somewhere. I was in awe and as soon as I had a chance I told my mother about Wing’s father. In her half asleep state she said that Wing’s mother was lying to him. I couldn’t believe it. I get it now.

The final task of the day before we could go home was to smile. We were all sitting on the carpeted floor and when the teacher called on me I just stared at her. She tried to encourage me like how one would with trying to get a dog to shake a paw. Time is limited in the classroom so she skipped me while one by one every kid smiled on cue and went home.

The end scene was with me sitting there alone with the teacher 6 feet in front of me trying again to get me to smile. I continued to stare at her blankly. “Okay, you can go.” That, I did no problem.

To this day I have trouble smiling just for the sake of smiling. It’s like jogging. I’m not going to run from or to nothing. I’m not a hamster. I’m also not McDonald’s where smiles are free. But since technology is making everything that was once impossible a reality…




Stay Away From Suckery

To answer the question of, “what should I do with my life,” the answer might be to just not do things that suck. Many would say that you have to and that’s life. I believe we all have to engage in some moments that suck but it could be possible that we could spend less of our lives doing them.

We can all endure suckery but it’s the long-term suckery that makes us miserable. The less shit in your life the less it stinks and the fewer flies and maggots you have to deal with.

Believing you have to put up with the extent of misery that you have to is based on your belief on how your life must be lived. Perhaps you’re a toothless hooker with no home to go to so no matter what you believe your life is going to suck. The lesson there would be to not let it get to that point. Make sure you take care of your teeth.

My best days are those when I’m fairly busy but not busy doing things that suck. They may not be exciting either but there’s no pain attached to them. Yesterday I did my volunteer gig at the supermarket, ate spaghetti with meat sauce and took a drive to help out the old guy. Maybe it wasn’t all pleasurable but it was purposeful and painless.

It’s not completely that simple. A big reason for the lack of misery is due to the fact that I don’t have a job that I had to go to all the time that brought me feelings of misery. Even on my days off work the virus was always running in the background infecting my mind. There’s relief when you finish your shift but no detox is effective right away. You get a couple days to walk away from the grief but your infected brain knows that you have to do it all over again 3 sunrises later.

If you can find a way to make money that doesn’t suck the life out of you then you’re lucky. If I can’t find that then I hope to find a balance so that my life isn’t incarcerated in the sucky category.


Snorting Happiness

Last night I watched a documentary that reminded me how happiness is just a fleeting and relative feeling. How happy you are feeling usually depends on how much higher you feel compared to your most recent level of happiness.

A can of dog food would make most people feel nothing or possibly disgust but if you’ve been trapped in your car for 5 days and a can of dog food appeared in your glove compartment, you would be happier than at any other meal of your life, assuming you have a can opener. Luckily, I always carry a Swiss Army knife.

We chase happiness like any other high. A 2 week vacation might as well be a 2 week cocaine binge because sooner or later you’re coming back down to earth. What happens when you come back to your regular life? I can’t wait til I go again. Like a junkie.

Once in a while you’ll hear about some accomplished person who had it all but ended up feeding their brain with lead. When one comes to the realization that they can’t buy anymore happiness it can become depressing. Luckily for 95% of people they will never have the resources to arrive at that sobering reality. There will always be a dangling carrot for most.

This morning the dog took a jump that might have been a little too high for her. Maybe she was trying to kill herself to get away from me forever. Less than a minute later I noticed she had trouble putting weight on one of her front legs. Pathways opened up in my brain and not often used chemicals signaled a response of panic and guilt.

My baseline happiness which is pretty low already took an enormous hit. A few hours after the kamikaze stunt my dog pulled, I was convinced her leg was fine. I was happy. It was like I snorted a metaphorical line of cocaine that boosted me up 5 levels.

Tomorrow when my gratitude has almost fully worn off I will have to go about the regular methods of seeking happiness like eating French toast and day dreaming that I am the heir to the largest Chinese powdered milk fortune.



French Toast…Part II

It’s a gloomy day with light showers and gusts of wind but not having a job to suck the life from you keeps your energy and morale high. On my way to the supermarket I thought about how ridiculous it seemed to walk 4 kilometres in this weather to buy one whole loaf of bread just to make French toast for myself. Then I remembered that the more torturous the journey the greater the victory will feel. A real man treks home alone with a loaf of French bread in one arm and a package of name brand 2 ply toilet paper in the other.


2 thick slices of bread, grated cinnamon, 1 large egg, a bit of cream…mix and fry in butter




Tasted pretty damn good. Better than how mama makes them. If I had kids I would be making this for them all the time. I would tell them not to put so much maple syrup on and they will ask me, why? Then I would tell them, because I fucking said so!

Mr Johnson..the greatest food blogger ever.



French Toast

I can’t stop thinking about French toast but I can’t get past the idea of buying a whole loaf of bread to make a serving of French toast. Everything that is offered at a supermarket is always catered to families. If a transgender person can get their own public bathroom, why can’t I just buy 3 slices of bread? By forcing people to buy more bread than they need, you are encouraging diabetes and issues brought upon by gluten.

I could go to McDonald’s and find a variation of French toast such as pancakes or the Mcgriddle sandwich but it’s not quite the same. Besides, I have eggs, maple syrup, brown sugar, butter, sticks of cinnamon and a cast iron skillet at home already.

I’ll be honest, I don’t really want French toast. I just want something to pour maple syrup over.