Human Progression

Always behind glass do we find our most precious desires,

A glass tempered of brazen grandeur,

We are a stubborn lot.

Unable to step forward,

Harnessed via the cold clean glass of our own own creation,

The wall is without in hiding within,

But we are a stubborn lot.

As the minutes of our mortal hour tick by,

So do we slowly and painfully push through those barriers,

One by one they fall and,

One by one they rise in turn,

Being the stubborn lot that we are.

So runs the precariously predictable progression of human life,

We carry the shards of our past along with us,

Glass in our heels,

Steel in our hearts.

BAM, Poetry. This makes life sound pretty fucking brutal, and, well, sometimes it is, but broken down, I totally think life's more good than bad. Ah, poetry. Ah, no rhyme scheme. Ah, not really well designed poetry, but still poetry because it's an art and anybody can hop on that bandwagon. Ahhhh...

80's businesswomen eat your hearts out.

So, new invention. (It seems my world is filled with random little inventions) Discs to be slipped into the shoulder pads of your clothing that produce a holographic image of, well, anything. For advice. Moral dilemmas. Just like when people lie there are parts of the brain that light up if someone has a moral dilemma. Torn between two paths. The discs could monitor brain-wave activity (not as crazy as it seems, if you know what you're looking for) for these 'difficult decisions' and snap into action. Sure you could just look into yourself and, if you're perfect, pick out the right course of action. But if you have morality programmed into two "opposite" characters, each in a disc, then you could, quite literally, have a little angel and devil pop up. How often do we seem to need to outwardly hear the situation and it's lighter and darker sides before we grasp our own coordinates within it? People make bad decisions. Maybe if we were reminded on a more personal level of our moral compass we'd all stop being such hateful dicks.

I'm not a hateful dick or anything, and I don't often put myself in morally hazy territory. Of course I could say the same for a great many of you. But we all make mistakes from time to time.

It wouldn't have to the old devil/angel combo either though. Personally I would have just one, and it would be a little holographic David Bowie. Every time he'd pop up he'd have a different outfit from his plethora of ridiculous ensembles. Just a little Labyrinth-style David Bowie whispering in your ear desperately NOT to rob a convenience store. Hell, if I had this little contraption a week ago I bet I wouldn't even be WANTED by the police. The fuzz. The five-oh.

The device could be implemented by police. Imagine people on probation being forced to wear em'. Every time they think of doing something terrible their mom would pop up on their shoulder nagging at them to keep their shit together... Maybe that isn't such a good idea, actually.

Who says the biggest demand would be advice. Imagine shoulder-strippers.

Listening makes me realize...

just how dumb the world is.

I find I'm becoming a man of few words. I feel as though we, as human beings, are too easily moved to say stupid things. Blame it on whatever you like, but the quality of conversation is at an all-time low. In a world were communication is both easy and omnipresent the tendency of the average person is to speak, to type, to recount, always. No one holds back anymore. Actually, no, the people that I tend to respect nowadays are those that keep their traps shut. Not always, but when appropriate.

I used to be such a loudmouth. Didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought, which is both admirable and ridiculous. I was such a fool. Now when I hear people like that I just wish they'd shut up. The world needs more wit. Sharp minds, sharp language, sharp tools.

When will the ignorant come together and in one unified voice, shut the fuck up? For the good of all the friendships, relationships and acquaintances I've yet to meet, I hope soon.

Completion.

Gotta love finishing something. That accompanying feeling of personal gratification? Mmm mmm mmm. Dee-lish. I just finished a painting, and I'm really happy with the results :)

Quoth the Raven;

"Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative."  -  Oscar Wilde

Nonsensical.

Haven't written on here in a little while now. Felt I should.

Superman never made any money. Yet he was content. Just being a good human being. Well as close to a good human being as a krypton-ite could.

He put himself through a lot of tedious bullshit just to fit in with everybody else.

J'oublie des foix que je peut parler un langue deuxieme. J'oublie aussi comment conjuge les verbes. Il y avait dans mon cinquieme annee au l'ecole chaque semaine une teste du 'spelling'. Meme maintenant j'oublie comment dire cette mot.

You just stand there. You just stand there.

A journal that everyone can see. Now why didn't I think of that? ;) Ridiculous. Ladies and gentlemen I present the reverse microwave! Tired of all that bulky popcorn chilling in you bowl? Just pop those cumbersome popped kernels into my patented reverse microwave and voila! You've instantly reduced the size of your popped corn to but a twentieth of it's original size. Perfect for easy storage. Ridiculous.

Didn't smoke any weed today. Woo. Being able to say that like it's surprising just makes me clap my hand over my brow and shake my head.

I don't get paranoid. I can concentrate. I don't giggle uncontrollably.

I'm not entirely sure, but I think that I was adopted. Just, the more I look for it, the more the similarities are just, undeniable. I think I'm a bastard child of Will Smith's. Just, I'm almost sure. Maybe I'll get a blood test when I'm balls deep in gold and illegally poached ivory.

If it weren't for women, the world would make sense. But alas, their leggy, beautiful bodies roam the earth, spreading passionate discordia.

Smooth... vs. Jagged

I was looking at a picture today of a cloudy mountain peak, with a jagged and a crisp, scissored brow. I clicked a block in my mind over another block, which it had been balancing on, and it fell into place. Previously, I had assumed, naievely, which I spelled correctly on my first try, that the majority of the world was a tasty plainish flat area, where houses and schools could easily be built. Anyways, it totally isn't. Imagine this; if the world was shrunk to the size of an 8 Ball itc would be smoother. Oh, wait, that kind of defeats what I was talking about. Whatever, the point is, the Earth is actually really rough and hard to traverse. Bam. Well, I'm not a believer in wasted words, so here they are, regardless of intellectual cohesiveness. And a quote;

"Don't shit where you eat."

I hope that helps someone.

Looking ahead =>

One hundred years ago people couldn't communicate with each other very easily. Messengers were a big means at that point. Now, our ability to translate information from one area over to another, to maintain it, and create it as easily as pressing a button has created a tiny world. The planet used to be huge. Now we grow up and we can learn anything, nearly anything, about another country or realm or ocean, whatever, at the drop of a hat. Coincidentally, the progression of mankind's technologies and modern sciences has sped up radically.

Now it is nearly 2010. Hahahah! MAN! It is nearly 2010!

We have the internet, developed so far beyond its original intent and purposes that it is quite literally bodiless, supported all over the world through the very machines that enjoy it and thousands of satellites in the sky. You can see and speak with with people, in real time, over the internet. You can send and retrieve countless terabytes of raw or refined data. People have placed consumerism into it, thoroughly, but also art, poetry, literature. The world wide web is, and this is a little creepy, a human made hive-mind. While it's true people can't be controlled by the internet, well, not entirely anyways, it can convey countless messages. How do the yankees in charge down there make the populace do what it's told? Mostly fear and intimidation tactics, somewhat through their ironic self-glorifying nationalism.

If the technology we have today, I'm talking headsets, miniature cameras, holographic emitters and signal receivers, were all combined and mass produced, then sold cheaply as a government sponsored program everyone in, let's say, Canada, could connect themselves to, in essence, one another. It would alleviate the dependency we have on phones. People could keep the small headset, with optional stylish visor, on and it would do so much for them, at a mere thought. You could communicate with anyone at any time. You could share information just as easily. Hell, you could have bluetooth in it that can access copiers and fax machines and such and simply upload your data into it, should a physical copy actually be needed.

Imagine schooling. Programs, designed by the leading experts in the world can be shared all over the world. Guided by teachers, the millions, because there would rapidly become millions, of programs in the government education sector of the internet would be readily accessible. Books wouldn't need to be printed. That one's scary, actually. Well, actually, books would still be printed. Of course they would. But not for the education system. Theirs would be digital.

Anyways, world of possibilities. Enjoy the bright sunshiny day.

Just thought of this: With the cameras that are built into the system, [one looks at your eyes, to judge at what area your in your field of vision your eyes are looking. another looks forward, told where to look by the smaller first one, and provides the computer an image to breakdown and search] and the holographic emitter, it could project a keyboard a couple inches in front of your face, but at such an angle as to overlay your hands, laid out in front of you as though at an actual keyboard. Then, following your finger strokes, it will create, once again within your filed of vision, a screen of your typed words. The message can then be sent off with a thought, or posted, at a thought. Hell, if the technology is good enough, the brain wave detectors could read more than a name or an address from you, could transcribe your thoughts as instantly as you think them. It would take some getting used to of course. Ad plenty of editing ;) Anyways, yes.

Good day, madams, sirs.

.htaeD baC roF eituC

Life is pretty sweet. Pretty fucking sweet.

Sometimes it amazes me just how down we can get. About ourselves, our situations, our lives. You, me and Jane/Joe Everyperson. It's pretty selfish. Being so wrought and focused on our own downfalls. It's just not a very panoramic view. Life is what it is. We all love to label the forces of our every day. Good or bad. Good or bad exists in our heads. A lot of the time I feel really positive about myself. Sometimes I feel as though I'm an absolute villain. We're all bumping into one another. A mild brush for some, a grind against others. 'Good' and 'Bad' all over the place.

The only safe bet, I imagine, to not get caught up in it all, is simply to try to be a positive force in someone else's day. Anytime I try to do good for myself it usually blows up in my face. Either it doesn't have the impact I expected, or maybe the results are inadequate. Time is usually a prominent force in that dissolution of intent. But when I smile at a co-worker and offer the simplest of compliments, there is no backfire. Random acts of kindness. Except... why does have to be random>/? I like good people, who deserve good things. My kindness will be directed towards them. My friends, my co-workers, my relatives. Think small, impact big.

On another note, North America needs to learn how important touch is. Physical touch. Connection. I find I'm a fairly physical person. I enjoy touch. Not just being touched, but touching as well. It's a connection that is so far repressed in our society that it has actually become inappropriate. I think that should change. I'm not saying everyone should have the right to touch anyone, but that, should people loosen up, we'll be comfortable and inviting. Friendly. If you don't believe me, go to Europe. The people's of an entire continent can't be wrong. ['But Jordan, North America is a continent too'] Yeah, a continent settled by religious outcast prudes.

Life doesn't have to be good to be sweet. Life is. Sweet.

Once there was a man. An OH SO POWERFUL man. Whose name was spoken both with glee and fear, tact and rakish garrisry. Yes, I said garrisry. A man whose heart beats a thousand times, every moment. Whose blood boils at his fingertips, yet is refreshingly cool and does that thing like dentyne, where it's all tingly and frosty-feeling at his palms. His eyes, not unlike those of an eagle, can bore through wood, and similarly organic surfaces, to gaze through people's skin, into their most deadly fears... somehow. His hair, shining with a glossy finish, brings genuine smiles to the faces of frightened, lost children and cold, shrewd businessmen alike. If this man should part his lips, your eyes will be burned from their sockets in a most brilliant, searing hot ray of white shininess. For this reason, he is the world's finest ventriloquist. His voice, even when dampened by his tight shut mouth carries with it the melodies of nineteen seperate and independently tuned string instruments. His vocal cords are made of licorice, both red and black, making his voice a vessel for the most unique and delicious tasting sounds a person an hear. His eyelashes were used in the space-race missions. I don't know how, all I know is that they were crucial. When this man saunters at a leisurely pace into town, all pets within a nine km radius dig up the bones and old hotdogs they've buried and consume them. There's both a malevolence and a charm to him. No one has EVER underestimated this man. The air around him sparkles and can power wristwatches and ipods. Once, he touched a frozen block of butter, peeled back the foil and it had turned into marbled cheese, which he then proceeded to make nachos with. They were the best nachos mankind had ever bore witness to. The colour of his eyes have never been determined, for no one has had the courage to look him in the eyes. He has met everyone at some point of time or another. Everyone. Timeless, he saunters. One cold Sunday you'll meet him.

Foreshadow.

Life gives you a warning sometimes. Sometimes. Often times one doesn't even recognize it, much like the characters of a book, unaware of a blatant foreshadowing.

This thought stems from a picture I saw today. Yes, it brings some sadness to my heart. I wouldn't be human if it didn't.

We all do things every day. I try to be enthusiastic about things. Enthusiasm is prime. Turns something mundane and boring into something less mundane and less boring ;)

Wherever you are, there you are.

true to the last drop. It's never about where you should be, what you should be doing, although so often we seem to think that. No, what really matters is where you are at this very moment. Why? Because that's where you are.

To quote the never-unwatchable Zoolander's Hansel (he's so hot right now):

"Do I know what I'm doing today? No. But I'm here, and I'm gonna give it my best shot."

Why not. Why not everyday. Everyday like you mean it.

Life is pretty good. When you look at the good things, anyways :) There are always bad things about life, always. And sometimes it seems like there's nothing but rotten situations out there, just waiting to spring on you. But there is always, if you look hard enough, good things.

How many of life's problems could be solved with a placebo? I'm betting a great many. A majority. Everyone just needs to look on the bright side. I'm trying to build a home on the bright side. A nice log cabin where we both could dream our days away.

If I could choose between bright and hectic, crazy and rich, hard and distant, long and arduous versus laid-back, small and comfy, down home country-style, in momentus, quiet and picturesque, I would take the latter. Any day of the week. Ambition is a tricky thing.

As always, love you everyone who reads this. Comfortable, friendly warm love.

Peace in your homes and hearts.

Sifting like the sands of our lives.

I have gotten so caught up in everything as of late. I suppose, in reality I'm no more caught up in 'everything' as I was before, but that doesn't explain the anxiety. Worry does though. It's been something I've been doing a whole lot more as of late. Worry about friends, about myself, about my family, about every problem that's come up.

I never used to worry. About pretty much anything. I consider that a good thing, more or less. I never really worried what anybody thought of me growing up. Not ever, really. I just... did my own thing. And it was fantastic. I would venture to say that it made me a very honest person. That's a lot of where my self-esteem stems from. Honesty. Truth and equality. Verite.

Without truth, there is no love. Without truth, there is no beauty.

I'm going to just take a step back here and try to remember what it felt like to truly be one's own person. Being true to yourself has been a principal I've always lived by. I am what I make myself. In essence, no one can tell me how to live my life.

No one is, mind you. I'm quite literally staring into the void that is instant international communication and reciting the mantra of my being. The thoughts that roll through my mind tonight. An appraisal, one might say, of my own civil codes.

We live in Canada, my friends. A land in which each and every one of us has the means to become anyone and do anything we want. To look at myself I can't help but feel a shame for not being better. I know one thing. I'm going to teach my daughter responsibility. Just like Spiderman.

As far as a physical update of me and my life; not much has changed. I bought a keyboard, because I'm awesome like that. I am actually pretty jacked on it. I'm learning Moonlight at the moment, and it's coming along pretty fan-tabulous.

Bagel-time, perhaps?

Me thinks indeed.

Surreptitiously.

Me thinks.

Illicit

You look at the world and what do you see? A pile of numbers, some square tvs. Please.

Lies in the windows, lies in the bed, everyone's heroes are lost in the sea.

The colours are running, away from the noise

of everything.

Sooner than later the focus will cut this world apart. And you'll be left with what's important.

Nothing else.

I am used, and tried, and true. I'm second hand while you're brand new.

I won't say blessing in disguise.

But I will say unexpected goodness coming from otherwise unfavourable situation? I confuse even myself sometimes.

Life is good. Life is good. Felt I should update. Not really sure what I was thinking about posting all two minutes ago... I know, I'm just a little girl.

Life is good. I feel again, like I haven't in, let's face it, quite a while.

I feel love. Love again for the world around me and those within it.

Imagine feeling so happy with everything in your life, not because it's perfect [as with everyone, far from it], but because that's how the things are laid out. It is the way that it is. Feel happy about that. Imagine that contentedness goes one step further and you can't take a smile off your face. That's kind of awkward, but let's say you're always smiling inside. I can see the love you can feel just bringing colour to an otherwise grey world. Love the air, the drive to work, the friends, the pets, the relatives, the job even. Whatevs. Love is grand.

I'm not so explicitly dampening the world with love or anything, mind you. But I do feel love inside me, outside me. Strangest of all.

Humans learn. That's what makes us people. We keep learning. Always learning. Birth to Death. Learning.

Note. Not all people learn. Smart people learn. People who know what's good for them.

Life is a series of bitter failures and minor victories. Life is full of drugs. Little red door. If there were a road through the window. I mean to say, if there were a road visible through the window... an entire road. All of the road, and it's surroundings, obviously not comprehensible to the human eye. As though, upon cracking open the door, a feeling stirs in you. If you've ever felt the urge to move, to leave, to carry on. To travel. That feeling, but a little different. That feeling, mixed with a resigned gratitude for the road that lay ahead. And you can see it all. Not with your eyes, but you can see every inch of hard black tar. Not with your ears, but you can hear the birds of a thousand trees. Not with your nose, but you can smell the dusty rocks and the dewy pines. And feeling that all at once is what makes the feeling. What makes it momentous and powerful. Is there a breeze on your face, drifting from the farthest reaches of red and brown and green? Your mouth is smiling, and the breeze tastes good. It tastes how I imagine fall tastes. There will be no trek though. No hills and no long voyage. You're just peering through a little red door.

When is a door not a door?

When it's ajar.

For the Children.

Once upon a time not so different from your own, young Judah awoke. Bright yellow rays of sun shot through the window above his bed and shone on his wall. Off went the covers and on went the pants as Judah ran out his bedroom door, across the hallway and, slowing himself down for safety, down the stairs.

Judah arrived in the kitchen at 8:02 am, about the same time as any other day, but, where were his parents? Usually his mom would have finished breakfast by now, but she was nowhere to be found. Usually his dad would be sitting in his breakfast chair, reading the paper.

Judah checked living room, then the bathroom, then he opened up the side door and looked in the garage but he couldn't find them. He checked the front lawn, he checked the back yard, he even checked in the basement, which was more than a little spooky.

Finally, Judah ran back up the stairs and burst into his parents room. There they were alright, lying in bed! By now it was 8:30! Judah couldn't help but think what sleepy-heads his parents were. He reached forward and grabbed the covers, pulling them backwards with a quick whip of his arm. His dad let out a big snore.

"Wake up!" Judah yelled. "Get outta bed, you sleepy-heads!"

His father promply rolled over, his eyes darting awake and filling with a terrible rage. Without even a moment to react, Judah's arm is locked in a vice of bone and fury. A small shriek only just escapes his lips before a dry backhand cracks him across his eyes, shutting him up. His father an imposing monolith, standing a full 6 feet 2 inches, Judah tries to explain his fear. As though the words spilling from his mouth in a babble might quell the brutal surge clearly visible in his fathers cracked out eyes. They fall miserably to the floor, the words, as the grown man viciously assaults his fragile son.

Years later, the son rolls his electric wheelchair up the old, creaking ramp in front of his parents house. The door is unlocked, and he finds his mother sprawled on the couch, wasted and sleeping while Maury Pauvitch insists to someone or other that they're the father on the television.

Judah quietly rolls himself into the kitchen, and then to the back deck. There, he finds his old man, broken-down, sweating, sitting in an old wicker chair.

"Say pop... Do you remember that time..."

"Huh?"

"When you... beat me mercilessly?"

"A-yuh."

"Why did you do that to me?"

"I-unno."

And the moral is... don't expect all things to have satisfying endings, even if there really should be.

I miss booze.

Jordan will drink more booze, from here onwards.

I used to chill with peeps and drink fairly often, those times were good. Alcohol is pretty sweet sometimes. I wish I was a lightweight, but it could be a lot worse. There are some friends I obviously haven't been hanging out with much anymore, and it's getting to me a little bit. Hah, it's a little more complicated than that, obviously, everything is. Every little thing, nowadays. I need to adjust. Adjust is certainly the right word. I need to adjust my thinking a little. I miss some of my old friends. Speaking of which, I just got back in touch with the girl who got me painting in the first place. Her name is MJ. A really cool bird. Super cool.

Listening to Avenged Sevenfold, sort of. Listening to the Vitamin String Quartet and their tribute to Avenged Sevenfold. It's pretty fucking cool.

I don't see them every day. I'm not in a program at the University. But I'd like to see them every once in a bit, at the very least. I should start calling some old friends. I should host more things out here. I've got a really cool space, with a fair bit of room, counting the garage, or chillage. A nice big foamy on the floor would make it more hospitable for drunks too. Not in the garage, mind you, but my living room. Easily adjustable in there for maximum space.

Some of this music is so sad. Wow.

This blog is my journal now it would seem. I'll try to keep it pleasant, for your sakes.

Each and every one of us.

We are all alone.

We are all lovely.

We are all tarnished.

We are all transient.

Even staying in one place we are transient. Always changing. Shifting, from a to b, c to d. We've all been in places we didn't want to be, and said things we haven't meant; a dirty sort of shame. Yet we're all a statement of desire, speaking to each in their own turn. And alone. Always we're alone.

Alone isn't always bad, though. Really. Obviously it's not the most comfortable cloak, but if you wear it right, you'll stay warm. If you're strong. And if you dare to hope, that warmth will last forever.

This has been a message of inspiration from your friends at Yoplait.

Close to Home

Something personal. A peek into me. Because I know *so* many of you want to peek into me ;)

First of all, I don't consider it a negative thing when I talk about the last relationship I was a part of. I'm not talking to rip into it. Even when I'm in a bad mood I don't rip into it. Those memories are always going to hold a special meaning to me. But I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk about surprise.

There has been a whole lot of surprise in the last couple of months for me. More than the previous 8 or 9 months combined I would say. Unfortunately those surprises were mostly, I would consider, bad things. Now that sucks, but again, that's not where I'm going. I just want to state how surprised I was on the whole by how QUICKLY things between us, Jill and I, changed.

Again, and it feels stupid putting this in here, I don't think this is a bad thing. I'm referring to using names and talking about the past. Yes, I do that. A lot of people do that. I'm in the midst of healing and talking helps. It's good to get things off your chest.

That note ^^ is a perfect example. I'm not saying anything bad, but I feel like I'm walking on eggshells. I don't want any more anger, or pain or tears or anything else. I may be a stubborn fuck sometimes, but I recognize that it's over. I needed to ask because I like to be clear. Concise. Direct. Direct. I'm talking about us, and I know you read this, so now [direct] I'm talking to you, hun.

My point is that things between us have changed more than I ever thought they would. I never, for the life of me, imagined I would feel awkward around you. Even after we broke up. I didn't. I understand that it's become that way because of the circumstances since then. It wasn't easy living it that fucking apartment, for sure. I think it would have been less difficult for me to have let go if we were able to get some space apart right away. Can't help the past though.

It seems like everything that was familiar between us has changed though. Right down to the bare bones, the memories themselves. I know that there were some really great moments for us, and I know they mean as much to you as they do to me, deep down. I should believe that, cause that's all that's left. Sometimes it feels to me like you've dismissed everything that was good. It's wrong to feel that way, because deep down, yes, I know you've felt what I've felt. We were there. But sometimes I feel alone in those memories. Like every part of me that used to make you smile has faded away, or dulled to nothing. Making you smile was so important to me for such a long time that now, not even talking with you, it sometimes feels like I'm not doing anything right.

Well, that's enough personal matter. Just to be clear Jill, I'm not trying to stir anything up here, I just wanted to talk, but I know you don't want to talk to me. So there's this post. Thanks for listening.