Getting back on that dumb, stupid, dumb horse

I’m starting to think that ‘moving on’ isn’t a result of the healing process, so much as a final step of it. There comes a point where you finish digging out the cracked foundation and you build up scaffolding in your mind to help you traipse around this massive hole. But the hole remains. And you know how things go – all it takes is one inattentive schmuck to fall in, break something, and sue you out of your own mind for damages.

So don't wash off those hands, because the work’s not done. You’ve gotta fill in chasm, not just bit by bit, but by willful and sweaty labour.

I am, of course, talking about dating.

I’ve been holding off on it for a few months now, under the guise of “I’m too busy” and “It wouldn’t be fair to her to start so soon.” There might be some truth in both of those things, but I think the underlying and unavoidable reason is that I’m afraid of trying. Afraid of failing. Afraid of getting hurt.

Alas, the whole world is worried about those things, so what’s my problem?

I writing this on a bus as I travel home for the holidays. The mountains are incredibly, vividly, overwhelmingly white. The snow is magnificent. Everything’s beautiful when it’s under a coat of soft, silent ice.

I have a friend who’s all about this new-wave gender equality and respect. No kidding, the thesis project for her Master’s degree was an illustrated compilation of anonymous stories about various incidents of sexual assault, as a way to draw attention to and humanize the issue (powerful stuff… it certainly made for a bleak read, though). She’s shared with me the many stories of her weird encounters and the creeps that create them. It’s kinda scary. As a result, it's made me hyper-aware of being a creep.

Like, is it even okay to approach a girl out of the blue, give her a compliment, and ask for her number? Or is that some kind of unwelcome invasion of their space for courting purposes? If I pay for a meal and hold the door, does that mean I’m confining a girl to their gender role? If I don’t do those things, will I be seen as a self-centered schmuck? Do girls want to be approached if you think they’re attractive/interesting, or do they already get more than enough of that? I want to be a respectful/decent guy, but I think if I follow every single piece of fine print I’ll never get off the launchpad.

Women, man. Magnificent creatures, and somehow utterly mystical to me. I have no idea how this stuff works, so I suspect a lot of trial and even far more error will be required to get anywhere. It’s scary. It’s almost as if I need to measure my progress not by successful dates, but by the amount of rejections.

The truth is that I’m afraid of girls. Or rather, I’m afraid of how easily I can be hurt by them, and that fear prevents me from approaching them.

I was chatting with another friend, and the topic of dating came up. They mentioned a friend of theirs in their mid/late 30’s that was trying to find someone decent, and how difficult it is. “It’s hard, because most of the single people at that age are single for a reason.” Oof. I mean, yeah, it’s easy to talk about the faults of the dating pool at large, but things go both ways.

I kinda hate this idea of how anyone past their 20’s are somehow second-tier stock. Divorcees, momma’s boys, druggies, douchebags, single parents… Everyone has baggage and needs to be approached with caution.

What are my problems? How come I’m still single? What do other people need to watch out for in me?

I’m really afraid of finding out I’m just as boring as I think I am. I don’t climb mountains or paraglide or play in a band or backpack around south Asia. I’m a white dude that watches some movies, plays some video games, reads about cars, browses some internet. I don’t enjoy partying, I’m not well traveled, and my wit isn’t particularly sharp. I think part of why my last relationship fell through is because she realized I wasn’t quite as stimulating as she needed from a partner.

I’m a ‘nice guy’, which is about a bad of an insult as can be had in this context. I’m nice, like a bowl of freshly steamed rice. No one gets offended at rice, and nobody is surprised by it either. It just does its job in the most unremarkable way possible. Never unexpected, always… there.

But I’m not that bad looking, am I? I’m by no means buff or built or whatever, but I’m kinda fit. I try to dress well and take care of my appearance a bit. Mind you, under those clothes I’m also covered in the dermal equivalent of perpetual surface rust. Everywhere that isn’t present has been lovingly painted over in scar tissue. Mm, yes, I sound like quite a stud.

Do I even stand a chance? Who would want a boring AND unattractive person in their life?
I read an online comment by someone who was lamenting that they weren’t good boyfriend material so much as good husband material. Not that exciting and different, but honest and respectful and hardworking and caring. Something about that resonated with me, and I wonder if I’m of a similar make and model.

At the end of the day, if I’m going to convince myself to do this, I need to do the equivalent of plugging the ears of my inner consciousness and going ‘LA-LA-LA-LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU’ while my insecurities and self-doubts hold a heated conversation inside my own head. Just gotta get out there and pretend to be… What, smart and handsome and interesting?

Pretend to be worth loving.
-Cril

Shirt Stories

Get it? I'm implying that these anecdotes will be both short and of low quality.

So I have a tendency to hang onto things. I'm a bit of a 'pack rat' if you will, and recently stumbled on an interesting book about how to minimize your possessions. It recommends getting your entire category of possessions into one place, and you keep whatever makes you happy. And the rest of it can be let go. This last part is hard, because I find I keep things which are tied to a memory or sentiment, and I worry that getting rid of them will somehow destroy those thoughts and feelings altogether.

Most of my discarding was surprisingly easy (I figure I bagged up half of all my clothes). But I had four shirts that I really struggled with. Alas, they were either ill-fitting and/or falling apart, and I knew I didn't actually want to wear them so much as just appreciate what they represented.

I decided to get rid of them, though. But before I did, I shot some quick pictures. I figured I should record their impressions, lest those memories leak away like a fistfull of sand.

Communist Party
My brother got this one for me for Christmas one year. It was goofy, and it generally got a lot of good reactions from people who saw me wearing it. A lot of "Hey, I have that shirt too!" It was also probably one of the brightest/most colourful shirts I had. I need more of those.

Cowboy Bebop
This was the very first thing I purchased with my very first credit card. Yeah, it's just a dumb anime shirt, but it nevertheless reminded me of being all growed up. I liked the colour of it (a chocolate brown t-shirt? Awesome!), as well as the subject matter. In fact, I just finished re-watching the series recently. I took my time with it rather than binging in a hurry, and appreciated lots of small things I had missed before.

Bad Altitude
As a graduation present, one of my uncle's bought me a free introductory flight lesson. Me and my folks drove out to a small airstrip on the outskirts of the big city, and while waiting for the tiny Cessna to be prepped, we puttered around the gift shop. I saw this shirt and laughed, and then went for a flight. I even got to take the stick, and we puttered around Vancouver's coast for an hour or so before returning. It was beautiful and the sense of freedom up in that cloudless, sunny summer's day was exhilarating. After I had returned, my parents presented me with the shirt. It was clearly too large, but I wore it anyways.

I don't stumble back on that memory very often, and that shirt was really my only gateway back to that adventure. I flew a plane!

Half-Life 2 Deathmatch
Probably the only garment that got me more attention than the Communist Party one. Except with this, it was mostly along the lines of "Is that a guy getting hit in the head by a toilet?".

I bought two of these - one for my brother, and one for myself. I think it was for his birthday, and I was missing him after moving away from home 6 months prior. We were gaming buddies for most of our time growing up: we could only afford one gaming computer (I bought the parts with my summer job money and he built it), so while one of us was playing the other was watching. Those were good times.

Our family refers to them as 'The Toilet Shirts'. I always liked the goofy image and the peculiar burgundy hue. I think my brother might still have his and uses it as a grubby-around-the-house shirt. The collar and fringes on mine were quite tattered, the fabric was thin and stretched, and it just smelled like... Old. I probably haven't worn it in a year or two.

---

I'd rather these shirts get some actual use from someone in need rather than living a lonely life as a crumpled bundle of cloth in the back corner of my dresser. Time to smile and move on. Thanks for holding onto my memories for me.
-Cril

Me, Three (Point) Oh

I was in New York, taking the train back to the airport before flying home. The whole trip I had kinda been wondering, "Where am I?" Yeah, sure the subway can disorient you something fierce and do strange things to your mind, but my physical location wasn't in doubt. I think my mental location was - the trip I had been feeling half a step removed from reality. Like the world was coated in a single, eternal sheet of plastic wrap. Wherever I was, I just wasn't quite... there.

Then a peculiar thought found me: "My presence has been conspicuously absent from my own life".

Hm, yes, this had all the makings of a grand philosophical and existential quandary, if a bit self-absorbed and pretentious. The idea itself was, of course and frankly, dumb. But it followed me through check-in, sat next to me on the plane, and followed me all the way home.

I guess I'm a person of constraints, almost to a fault. You could probably say that I'm predictable and never unexpected. My spirit animal is white, sliced bread.

I go to work, I save for retirement, I pay taxes. I drive home and eat the same 4-5 meals over and over again, then I do a varied mixture of practicing an instrument, watching/playing the show/game that's in season, or puttering away on some uninspired freelance work. Every other week I get groceries and fill up the car. I check my budget and mind my finances, and do it all again. Ever onward to... Somewhere.

I have more routine than not, I think. And to be honest, there's a lot of good ol' comfort inside that bubble of safety. You don't gotta think much, just keep trudgin' along the track.

Over the course of my birthday, my mom sent me a bunch of photos she dug up of me as a kid. It really made me wonder... What would he think of me? Maybe he'd be happy that I have a good job and have not one, but two cars (fun fact: when I was little I had a breakdown where I was certain I'd never ever make enough money to buy a car). I got a degree, and even spent a year of my education far away in a big American city. I know how to play a couple instruments, I'm in decent physical shape, I have a computer that can play any game I want, and I even have a Lego kit bigger than my brother's Deep Freeze Defender. I'd like to think that my young self thought I turned out alright.

What about the other end of the spectrum, what would my deathbed-self think about me now? No girlfriend. Working lots, accomplishing little. Saving lots, maybe too much. I haven't travelled off the continent, I'm not taking my mandolin lessons seriously. I have no mortgage, no spouse, no kids. I live inside my routine. I'm a bit too introverted, and don't pursue new experiences. I have a small social circle, and I'm afraid to talk to girls. I waste too much time on the computer. My budget dictates how I live.

Would my future self think that I've wasted my 20's? I don't have any grand perspective yet, but I already kinda feel that way. I spent those prime years studying hard, working hard, and saving hard. I've been productive, but I haven't done much in the way of living.

Basically, I've cracked open my standard-issue Human ration of self-doubt. I'm sure everyone goes through some flavour of this uneasiness once they hit certain milestones. I once told myself that I was never going to be so self-conscious about my age, but then I got older.

I think things have compounded by the murky puddle of ennui I find myself wading through right now. I don't have anything in particular to look forward to (in comparison to, say, when I was in school). I haven't been... failing at anything. I guess that's a symptom of fearing the world - I've been playing my life really safe and avoiding challenges. Following the rules and best practices, but at the same time completely missing out on those spicy opportunities that add flavour to life. I feel like I'm doing everything "right", and nothing memorable.

In the grand scheme of things, we'll all be scattered atoms in a few billion years when the sun decides to blow itself up. What will even the most influential legacy mean when there's no planet left for it to live on? I could be an old solitary man with a healthy retirement fund, or a strung-out rockstar. Do your life right, or do it wrong. In the end, there's absolutely no difference.

But I still want to do make the most of things, whatever that may look like. It seems to me that I've hit of a peak in my life; sure, the view's great, but I'm not really movin' anywhere at the moment. I need a valley. I need a little momentum.

Things need to change, and they will change. One day at a time.

One thing the younger me would be disappointed in was that I still don't have any idea what's going on. But that's alright. Where would be the fun in that?
-Cril

Ophelia, she's 'neath the window for her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday she already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic she wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion, her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking into Desolation Row

Bob Dylan - Desolation Row

Election, Etc

So... Trump.

I think this is one of those reminders that 'your worldview and priorities are not necessarily shared with the majority of the population'.

Here's what I don't get: so many people right now are losing their minds, convinced that their new president is ushering in a second Dark Ages. People protesting, lamenting the inevitable loss of human rights, and worrying about a fundamental collapse of society. But what if the roles were flipped? What if Clinton won and it was Republicans that were refusing to accept the results? Then Clinton's supporters would be saying in a condescending tone, "Now. now, those stupid conservatives just need to buck up and accept the results of the democratic system."

Doesn't anyone see that how democrats feel about Trump is how Republicans have been feeling about Obama? Doesn't anyone see that it's all the same flavour of hatred and rage?

I mean, yeah, Trump definitely wouldn't have been my choice had I had the opportunity to vote in the matter. I have faith, though, that the US government is a large and slow moving ship, and despite what the man up front says, it's not as if he has complete control of the wheel, rudder, and sails. Let's practice a modicum of optimism (or even caution) here, rather than proclaiming the very apocalypse has arrived. Despite what many consider a questionable nature of Trump's character, maybe he can still be a responsible president, albeit one with an agenda that many aren't fond of.

And maybe, just maybe, more Trump supporters could have been convinced to vote the other way if they hadn't all been immediately branded as racist backwater idiots, and had their leader dismissed as a total buffoon and scumbag. Maybe instead of immediately insulting and telling these people that their values are stupid, a little respect and acknowledgement of their concerns would have gone a long way.

Why do people have to hate each other so much? Is empathy that hard?

On election night Stephen Colbert made a moving speech about the poison in the waters and how the nation should come together and heal its wounds, rather than demonizing each other. Then the next day, he kinda doubles down on mocking Trump (and his supporters by proxy). I get that he's ultimately an entertainer, but that kind of 180 degree turn after what seemed like a sincere plea for unity is a bit heartbreaking.

Yes, there are bad apples on each side of this fight. For every racist that says minorities are intellectually inferior, there's an atheist that says the exact same thing about a person of faith. I secretly hope these people go jump off a cliff. But I'd like to think, though, that the majority of  the conservative and liberal spectrums consists of people with their own reasonable beliefs and values. And Republicans hating or demonizing Democrats isn't much worse than when the tables are turned around, like they are now.

A little bit of compassion and respect, and a willingness to compromise. Is that too much to ask for? Life isn't black and white, and I don't see why politics has to be much different. Can't we all just... get along?

I dunno, it's not even my country, so maybe I don't have a right to speak on the matter. But a lot of what happens down there spills over up here. Maybe this election didn't have the best outcome by a few different standards, but I don't see why this has to be the end of the world just yet. Let's just breathe a bit and see how it goes, and for heaven's sake, just be a bit kinder to each other.

Just a thought.
-Cril

Outlook Not So Good

I recently started browsing the r/relationships section of Reddit as a way to fill a gaping void I suddenly found myself with. I don't exactly know how or why I thought it'd work - maybe it was supposed to validate my own feelings and actions via the proxy of anonymous and heartbroken Reddit-ites. This is what I've learned so far:

1. Every spouse will, at some point, either cheat on you or become emotionally abusive. And make no mistake,
2. All flags are red flags which cannot be overcome. It doesn't matter what the magnitude was of the original sin, how long you were together, or the prior state of your relationship. It cannot be fixed. But that's alright because,
3. You absolutely must leave them, and you should leave them right now.

Needless to say, it's left me with a bit of a sour outlook on relationships. I'm caught between wanting to be in one and drowning in resignation over the fact that it will obviously, inevitably, fail in a spectacular fashion. It's a miracle that anyone these days still gets married, because every marriage will end in divorce. 

Of course, there's got to be some kinda bias here, inherent in the kind of people that a) seek relationship help from complete strangers on the internet, or b) give relationship advice to complete strangers on the internet. But credit where it's due, occasionally there is some genuinely good advice that's passed out from people who are undoubtedly wise about interpersonal matters. But when it comes to matters of the heart, the general tone is rather bleak and fatalistic.

Reading this stuff is almost definitely doing me more harm than good. But what should I expect, it's practically internet junk food drama.

-Cril

Thanksfeelings Dinner

It's Thanksgiving. For us Canucks, at least.

Every year I go to my aunt and uncle's for dinner, and we do a toast at the beginning where we say what we're particularly thankful for. During the lead up over the last handful of days I've been bobbing this scenario around my cranium, fishing for good answers. The thing is... I just ain't feelin' it right now.

That's not to say that I don't have anything to be thankful for. That's absolutely not the case. I'm lucky to have a job that's flexible, pays well, and allows me to travel on occasion. I also have a couple freelance gigs on the side to keep me occupied. Even though it's not fancy, I have my own little abode with not one, but two sports cars sitting outside. I'm healthy. I have a nifty gaming computer full of nifty games to play. I have more musical instruments than any person of my skill level really needs, and I also get to take regular mandolin lessons. I have family and friends that care for me and have my back when I'm feelin' low.

But here's the thing: I'm not quite feeling any of that right now. Factually, I know they're there. I can see and touch and hear them, and know they exist. But in my heart or gut or wherever such things reside, it isn't quite registering. It's kinda frustrating.

Let me put it this way: Autumn is my favourite season. I love the colours of the leaves, and the sound they make as they skitter across the pavement. I love the crispness of the air. Right now I know it's autumn, but I do not feel autumn.

I somehow feel like I've been robbed of a season.

"Mm, yes," you may remark from the comfort of your expertise armchair, "it seems that you may be exhibiting symptoms of depression, perhaps triggered by the turmoil of a recent change in your relationship status."

True, true, all very true. But I somehow get the vibe that I've been slowly sliding down this path for a bit longer than just that. Maybe over the last year or a bit longer. It's like life has been leaking some of its luster.

At one point I really truly felt that happiness and wonder was a choice a person could make. But what if I don't have that any more? Am I just too lazy to be happy any more?

For 2013-2015 I recorded a second of video every day as a way of chronicling my life and what made me happy. For 2016 I decided to take a break from the project. I also stopped writing here regularly, and haven't been keeping a personal journal either. Kinda makes me wonder... Does this period in my life even exist? Am I nothing but a ghost lurking in my own flawed future memories?

Yay, existential shenanigans. Basically, right now I'm doing okay. Nothing's wrong, per se, but I've somehow settled into a routine of existence, rather than living. Something's missing. I just gotta figure out how to start looking for that thing, whatever it is.

As it turns out, at dinner tonight we all kinda forgot the traditional toast. Given my current conundrums, that's definitely something to feel thankful for.
-Cril.

Post-Mortem Twinges

Loneliness is lonely.

I'm watching my uncle's dog for a week and a half, and it's rather embarrassing how enjoyable it is to have a pair of attentive ears to talk to, even if she doesn't understand a word of what I say. And I have no idea what she says back. Still, it doesn't hold us from having grand conversations.

We actually seldom have any conversations, and I'm usually just the one yammering away while she looks at me quizzically. Still, I like the idea of having a pseudo chat with this goofy ball of fur.

What else is there to say, really? I'm trying to fill in a hole, one grain of sand at a time. Some days I'm bitter, some days remorseful, some days sullen. All days lonely.

Once upon a time I was really good at being alone. I was thinking back to some of my time in New York where there'd be entire weeks where I wouldn't actually speak to anyone outside of classwork. Maybe a sheepish 'thanks' to the apathetic cashier at a grocery store.

Mind you, being in such a saturated environment helps you to stay distracted, and spending lots of time on the subway means you can observe and project yourself into the lives of others. Lots of strange faces that draw you in to nonchalantly eavesdrop their strange words. Everyone living each other's lives, until the stop comes and you hop into someone else's orbit.

---

Sometimes it kinda sucks how an autopsy is the best window into life. Only after something is over, dead, and ended can you understand what its existence was. Like being an archaeologist of your own life, the words and phrases to express what you were feeling can only be found if they've been covered in dust for a time.

I'm forcing this metaphor, apparently. Those three sentences all pretty much say the same thing and I had to toil over each one. The point is this: I think it's kinda sad that you can only best understand something in retrospection long after it has ended. You don't have any of the clarity you needed when it was actually still alive and breathing.

Kinda makes me feel that we're all perpetually overwhelmed four-year-olds standing in the middle of the midway. We're going through life with our eyes glazed over and mouths slightly agape at the spectacle of it all, and we'll have no idea what actually happened until the show's over.

Part of me wishes I could have said the words and clarity I have now when they were most relevant. But that wouldn't be life, would it? That'd be like reading a walkthrough before playing the game. No alarms and no surprises, and everything would be just a little bit too easy and expected.

Can I stop writing now? I'm going to stop writing now. I feel like I'm going in circles and just rehashing things. I guess that's what happens when you're so preoccupied with tiny and substance-less ideas that feel bigger then they are when sitting on your shoulders.
-Cril

I sung you, your twinges
I suffered you, your tattletales
And when you broke sideways
I wanted you, I needed you
Oh-oh, to make me better
Oh-oh, to make me better

But we're not so starry-eyed anymore
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters
And won't it all just come around and make you
Let it all unbreak you to the day that you met her
And it'd make you better
Did it make you better?
Make you better

And all I wanted was a sliver to call mine
And all I wanted was a shimmer in your shine
To make me bright

'Cause we're not so starry-eyed anymore
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters
Won't it all just come around and make you
Let it all unbreak you to the days you met her
But it'd make you better
It'd make you better

The Decemberists - Make You Better

From the Limbo Archives

Sometimes I write stuff down into an unaddressed email draft until I figure out where it should live. These are two vivid dreams I recorded in 2012/2013, I think. They don't really have any kind of significance, and I'm just dumping them here for the sake of tidying my email.

---

July 19
I had a dream the other night. Apparently I was getting married within a few hours. I was in my room, getting ready and my brother was there helping me out. There was a bit of a freak out, because I had slept in until 2pm (I actually ended up sleeping in until 8:45am). There were clothes all over the place, and I was looking for something decent. For some reason, I was having a conversation with my brother about whether or not I should wear a sweater. As this carried on and I tried different clothes on, I started becoming very unsure of myself. He related a story of how they got married and it was fine - until a little time afterwards. All of the sudden, my brother's friend from highschool was there describing how he was present when this spouse-in-law decided to commit traditional Seppuku. Apparently he first asked how to get in touch with his anthropology (huh?) before the blade went in. His eyes turned red, and then he was dead. For some reason, though, this seemed to be a good story and encouragement to go through with the wedding. Relatives were dropping in and out of my room as I continued to get ready, but my brother stayed with me while I prepared. Then it slowly started to dawn on me... I didn't know who I was getting married to. I didn't know where it was taking place or what the colours were or what we were doing for a reception. And I had no idea what music we had picked out (and THAT was a big deal). I think at this point, the actual physical me, lying in bed, was trying to rip me away from unconsciousness, but I remember having the distinct feeling that I was just too tired to wake up. It was a bit like my conscious mind was fighting against my dream mind, saying "Things aren't quite making sense here..." Anyways, the dream went on a little bit longer. Basically, I started to panic a bit, and was having doubts (wouldn't you, if you didn't know ANYTHING about your own wedding?). My mom came down and told me to snap out of it, finished getting dressed, and go to the chapel (wherever it was). She commented on the large assortment of dolls/figured on my desk, saying... Something about it. I don't remember exactly, but it was kinda disapproving. I know for sure that they were layed out/kinda posed like the Votive Statues from Tell Asmar, and among them were some Portal, Half Life, and WWII pilot figures. Anyways, my mom left. My brother was preoccupied with something else, so... I put on a very old pair of sneakers, and I subtly went around the room collecting my wallet... coat... iPod, I need my iPod... and finally car keys. I then stepped out of the door in my room that lead to the street (a door which doesn't exist in real life). And then I woke up. In the dream, I was planning on just slipping away, getting into my car, and driving faaaar away. Without telling anyone. I remember that sensation vividly. I need to get in the car, with my music, and get away from everything.

It was such a vivid and intense dream. I just felt that I had to write down what I could remember from it.

Keep in mind, I may be sick. I had a physical meltdown last night where my stomach was doing odd things, the blood decided to temporarily evacuate the upper portion of my body, I started to sweat, my skin was cold, and the world became a veeeery surreal place, like I only had one foot through the doorway. Either it was a sign of exhaustion (as my friends pointed out), or I'm coming down with something nasty. But I can't be sick now. There's too much to do for me to be sick.

-----

Dec 21

Had a dream that I got a car. A Subaru BRZ. It was blue, the handling was tight. It had a weird configuration of the stick, but it was a manual. I remember being out running an errand, and I bought it new on a whim. I spent a LOT of time trying to get out onto the road - getting stuck in back alleys, waiting for pedestrians to cross, dead ends. When I finally got out on the road, it felt so good. The engine thrummed, and it felt so connected to the road. I wasn't sure if I started speeding or not - I had the idea in my head to now bread the law, but I wanted to push things farther. Eventually I stopped by some cops, and one got out and told me to get out so I could be ticketed for the way I was driving. He asked me why I got it, and I had two reasons I told him. I don't remember what they were, but I tried to make it sound like I wasn't just out to buy a sports car. He got me to pop the hood. Asked me why I got a 'toe ring', which apparently meant "manual transmission". I finally figured out I wasn't going to get out of getting a very big ticket. I started thinking about selling the car and going back to taking the bus. The money was an issue, sure, but I felt ashamed, like I didn't deserve to drive any more. It was really depressing, and then I woke up. It was a scary thing. But the feeling of setting out in a good car, my car... Felt damn good.

Argh.

I'm a confrontation-averse, people-pleasing, soft-spoken guy. Chris not smash. Chris pace and mutter under breath where no one see.

But damn, some days I wish I had it in me to do some yelling. I guess I'm in the 'anger' phase of being miserable, because I really just want to point a finger and unleash about what was driving me crazy. Of course, I only really recognize the stuff that was bothering me long after the opportunity to express it had dried up.

And it's probably for the best, too. No need to spill more blood than what has already been, and while I'm sure a yelling match feels good in the process, the aftertaste is probably less than pleasant. So for now I'll keep writing down my hot-headed comments in an email draft that'll never get sent.

Incredible Hulk? Incredible Sulk, more like.
-Cril

Core(-esque) Memories

I stumbled across this the other day. Got me wondering what some of my own core memories are.

• In grade 2 or 3, a bunch of us would get together at recess and share our snacks. One day I approached the group and was told they wouldn't share with me because I was a "white man".
• There was this small/scronny kid in highschool that everyone (including me) picked on because he was compulsive liar. One day a group of us were talking about him, and one of my friends shut all us up by remarking, "I bet he's never owned a new jacket in his life". I felt awful. That moment taught me to be less vile and look for the struggles people might be going through.
• Spent a summer with my brother and I crammed into a coat closet playing Tony Hawk on N64.
• Me, my brother and dad had a competition to get the best lap time on Deadly Fall on 1080 Snowboarding. One day we got home to discover that my Dad had set a wickedly fast time, and smugly told us that he'd order pizza if we could beat him. We tried in vain for hours, and he ordered it anyways. 
• Driving around for forty minutes in the dark and rain, trying to find a the address for my next vacuum sales pitch. Once I arrived, a pleasant couple answered the door and told me that some jobs just aren't worth the trouble, and I should find something to do that was more rewarding.
• The first time I used a tablet for the computer. Up to that point I had exclusively been drawing with a mouse, and finally discovered what I was missing out on. Gotta use the right tool for the job.
• My brother moved out to my city for the summer, and we worked and hung out together. Felt pretty gutted when he left, and I realized how lonely I was.
• I packed up all of my (meager) belongings into a new Civic, and hauled it all over Rocky mountains to move back home. Made me feel all growed-up.
• At a couple of family reunions, my immediate family would gather around and belt out some tunes with basic ukulele accompaniment. 
• A few from New York:
• While waiting for a train, a cute chick kept looking over at me. I looked down to hide my smile.
• Talking to my soon-to-be girlfriend, as she was sitting really close and laughing at all my garbage jokes. Made me realize, "Oh, so THIS is what it must be like to have a girl like you."
• I was taking the train into/out of Manhattan, and there was a woman looking out the window while silently dancing and lipsyncing to her music. I liked the beauty of doing what makes you happy, regardless of what others might think. Whenever I go to buy groceries now I do the same thing, and it makes me happy.
• Bought me and drove me a rickety ol' Porsche 944, and realized that bucket list items can actually be accomplished in one way or another.
• Some close friends of mine had their first kid, and I went to go see them after they got home from the hospital. They layed him in my arms and said, "Meet your Uncle Chris". Honourary Uncle Status is a pretty humbling thing.

Okay, maybe these aren't 'core memories' so much as 'significant memories that I felt like writing down'. I worry that if I don't capture them they'll blow away, one by one, like grains of sand. That's a scary thought.

-Cril

Bioshock Infinite

The original Bioshock didn't do much for me. Despite the well-crafted environment, the combat felt a bit detached and repetitive. It just didn't click. I played about a third of it before giving up. A while later I looked up the ending online and was pleasantly surprised. The gameplay wasn't for me, but I certainly respected the writing.

A few weeks ago a cousin mentioned that she was playing Bioshock Infinite, and thought it was really good and really creepy. Then a Steam sale happened, and I stumbled across the title. Between being $8 and having pretty damn good user scores, I figured I'd try it out.

The gameplay was a lot more solid than its prequel, the environment was neat, there were some neat mechanics, and I found myself getting very quickly attached to Elizabeth. 11 hours later while playing the final stretch of the game, I was pretty certain I was experiencing a masterpiece.

A couple miscellaneous and spoiler-ish things:

• The retro/modern music was genius. At first I thought it was a nice/surreal touch, but it turned out to be tied into the story.
• Whereas the first Bioshock had you experience a utopia after it had fallen apart, it was really fascinating experiencing such an inwards collapse first-hand. I liked watching the progression from a repressed people, to a modest uprising, to tipping the scales and becoming an even more brutal power. Really chilling to watch noble efforts become drunk on power and reflect the evil it was initially trying to usurp. 
• Elizabeth! Probably the most I've ever become attached to a video game character. It was incredible watching her 'mature' in the little things: her expressions, posture, and tone of voice. She was helpful, too. She made for a really gratifying companion to have. I was surprised at how alone I felt without her around. And how heartbroken I was for her character.
• I'm not one of those 100% completion nutjobs, but I did find myself exploring an awful lot to find good loot. At first I thought the audio recordings were kinda pointless, but as I progressed they really became captivating and drove me to find more. 
• Lovely, interesting settings. Not only the Patriotic Steam Punkish technology and contraptions, but the political and social tones. It was kind of refreshing to see such ugly and racist tones addressed head on. Lots of application to society today too, in a way. It was a very honest critique of American culture.
• The story and ending was... Incredible. Definitely one of those "What the hell is going on" moments, where you can't turn away. It's all so strange, and yet captivating. The last four hours of the game were really tough for me, because I couldn't put it down. I had become so invested. But it wasn't until the last thirty minutes that things really started unraveling and messing with my head. I just... Can't believe how it was all connected.

No, I'm not going to spoil it for you. You need to play it to appreciate it. You need to have that ton of bricks dropped on your mind five seconds before the game cuts to credits, so that you can lay in bed sorting it out and realizing all the little details along the way that connects everything together.

And that's part of what I liked about it: it made me think. Really think. I could tell it wasn't just haphazard storytelling, but that everything was done for a reason.

Wonderful. Just wonderful.
-Cril

Loggin' Hours

I was really sick last week. As in so sick that I took what may have been my first ever sick day of my professional career. I'm still recovering a bit, which is what I'll blame for being incredibly lazy the week/weekend. Lotsa sleep, Netflix, and gaming.

I've been playing a mix of Mad Max and Rebel Galaxy. Kinda binging and flopping back and forth between the two. They're both fairly repetitive and grind fest-y, and herein lies a recent realization: Why do I keep playing a game if I'm not particularly enjoying it? Well, the answer's easy: I paid for the game, so I better get everything I can out of it, dangit. Kinda hearkens back to my time as a teenager where we had to save multiple months to buy something for the N64, so we'd absolutely play it to death to a) get our money's worth and b) keep ourselves occupied with a limited library.

But here I am, all growed up. While I'm not wealthy, I can certainly afford to buy a couple games here and there without it being too big of a deal. I guess old habits die hard, though, and I have a hard time justifying a game purchase if I haven't been able to finish off a previous title that I've grown bored with. Well, and maybe I haven't even grown bored with it so much as I realized that it wasn't that great to begin with.

Rebel Galaxy is the worst of the two. Good elements here and there, but overall kinda slow and really repetitive. I probably saw all major gameplay mechanics within the first 3-4 hours, and kept grinding away for another 25hrs so that I could get a better ship. So that I can grind away for another X hours so I can get an even better ship. The story is underwhelming, the battles aren't particularly exciting, and the navigation/movement is frustrating.

So... That means I should stop playing, right? What if I don't have another game I want to play instead? Does that (gasp) mean I should play my instrument or sketch or watch a movie instead? I mean, what am I doing with my life if I'm playing a game I don't like because I don't want to do anything else? Hmph.
-Cril

Starting off with a meh

Well, it's 2016 and I'm... Glumb (which is actually a word that I had to look up after using it). Dunno. Just feelin' grey somehow.

It was scary how quickly I slid back into routine at work, staying late each night. Getting home. Eating some quick dinner, slacking off just a long enough to make sure I have to stay up late to get my freelance done. Hm.

What do I have to look forward to this year? More of the same? Gotta do something to shake it up. Maybe this is because I'm getting stir crazy after a year or so of being out of school. Welcome to the rest of my life. Gotta find my own way of keeping things spicy.

I've given up my daily videos, though. I'm worried that I'll come to regret it somehow, but for now I feel like the project has run its course. I find it oddly tiring, but that might be a symptom of said glumbness.

I think that's part of the reason I'm writing again. Didn't want to give up on the only two ways I have of chronicling my life.

Speaking of which, this last week I was invited along with my aunt and uncle to test drive a Tesla S. The P85D. Worth $160,000. The third fastest 0-60 production car on the market. We were informed before the test drive that our individual insurance would be liable in the case of any mishaps, which made me nervous in hell. I ended up parking it horribly in a quiet corner of the parkade, mostly out of fear of doing something stupid.

I only really got to drive it around the block once at the end of the test drive. Just long enough for me to mash the go pedal a few times and giggle a bit. AWD and 691HP do funny things to your rational brain. It was odd how it didn't make any 'vroom' noises, just going '...' instead. Still, quite a thrill.

It was a bit like looking into the future of the industry, though. I think the automotive is looooong overdue for a shakeup, similar to what Apple/Google has done to phones and personal computing. Cars are conventional and the same thing gets released year after year. It was nice to see something in person that broke the mold. The whole car has two buttons in it; all the controls (driving dynamics, stereo, heating, etc) operate through the touch screen. The screen itself was a bit too huge for my liking, but the approach was refreshing nonetheless.

And the autopilot? Probably one of the more freaky/uncanny experiences I've ever had. Surreal, alarming, and supremely cool. Can't wait to see where automotive automation ends up within a few years.

And in other news, I spent the entire weekend binging on Jessica Jones. Good show. Kinda neat how PTSD and various kinds of abuse played a central theme. That kinda social depth was cool to see, and surprising considering it was coming from a comic book show. And it was well acted. David Tennant does a wicked (pun intended) creep bastard. Made me all squirmy inside. The effects felt cheap, but I still give it a 5/5. Good stuff.

Anyways, it's time for another week. Let's do it.