RIP Facebook Condolences

So Jack Layton died today. He was one of those rare politicians that garnered respect from all sides. Whether you agreed with his politics of not, it was obvious that he was a man of principles and integrity; qualities so unusual in someone in the limelight.

Before I seem insensitive, I should probably preface this by saying that I was saddened to hear of his death and feel as though Canadians have lost an important voice who spoke for them.

I am sick of reading about him on Facebook. Posting a status update or a link to a news article seems an inadequate way to express emotion, but is something that has inundated social media. I won't post anything about Jack Layton on my Facebook status for the same reason I won't write birthday wishes, new baby congratulations, or notes of sympathy on my friends' walls. It just doesn't seem sincere. It seems cold and fake to post a message that hundreds of other people have already done. If I really cared, wouldn't I do something more than spend 8 seconds writing a brief note on Facebook? Jack spent a few of his last moments taking the time to write a heartfelt letter to Canadians. I think he deserves more respect than "RIP Jack" on thousands of News Feed posts.

Call to Inaction

I must first admit that from time to time I may have nothing better to do. I may have too much spare time. I may procrastinate. I may sit around doing nothing. I may waste time. I may be bored. I may have some spare time in my life. This does happen. I can admit that.

I can boldly declare, however, that I have never posted a comment at the end of a news story. I never will.

I find the user-posted comments to be utter rubbish. The family of Rick Rypien isn't going to go to cbcsports.ca and read the comments posted by readers at the end of an article discussing his death. Why they would be interested in sifting through comments like "RIP Rick: You are in a better place now", or "27 years old is way too soon to leave this world". These comments add nothing. The article provided excerpts of condolence from the NHL and the NHLPA. We all know it's sad when people die. I don't need someone to post it.

It is a journalists job to be balanced and unbiased. It is not the journalist's job to tell me how to feel. It should not be the role of "dovescry," "Crazed Monkey," or "sexyrexy" to tell me how I should feel after reading a news article.

For Real This Time

Is it funny or pathetic that my last post was two years ago and its salient point was that I was getting back into regular blogging?

I've been talking to a few people who insist that I must return to this blog. I will, but I make no quality assurances. I'm just going to do what I've always done: be myself and write honestly.

A lot has changed in the six years from when I began this thing. I am concerned that I won't be able to write without being miserable. Since everything is going well, I'm sure that it won't be nearly as funny/tragic. I'll just use it to keep my mind sharp and if anyone reads it and wants to hire me to blog for money, write a screenplay, or produce a chapter of a book that can be shopped around to various publishing houses and optioned to the highest bidder, I could go for that. With the proper motivation I could keep this thing up.

Here's a song to which I can't stop listening.

Go Back to the World

Since I'm getting back into this blogging thing, I think that I should apologize to anyone who may have been offended by anything that I've written in this blog. I wonder if there are some things that shouldn't be said in a blog, but then I think about what that might mean. Will self-censorship make this blog better, or will it make this blog worse?

Really, I stopped this blog for a while because I didn't like what it had become and I didn't like that everyone was taking everything in it so seriously. The whole thing was making me quite nervous, and so I stopped posting. With that, any kind of writing stopped. That concerned me. I can't just sit down at my computer and write. I like the idea that I have a little window that is satisfied with whatever piece of twaddle that fills it, and then off it goes out and brings something to the ether of cyberspace. A word processor is just a blank screen that brings nothing to anyone and only makes me not want to do it. The endless pages and word counts and animated paperclip aren't work conducive for me.

I drove back to Toronto this afternoon and gave myself a iPod mix tape. I focused mainly on Leonard Cohen and My Bloody Valentine tracks. I was particularly taken with Night Comes On.

"I'll go down to Bill's bar, I can make it that far, and I'll see if my friends are still there. Yes, and here's to the few who forgive what you do and the fewer who don't even care. And the night comes on it's very calm. I want to cross over, I want to go home, but she said, "Go back. Go back to the world."

Passing Through

Busy day at work today, but I'm home now and working up the strength to write an essay. I have to finish a 20-page paper before the 10th. This sounds relatively easy since the deadline is weeks away, but I have tremendous difficulty completing work without the pressures of an imminent deadline. Still, with Christmas on Thursday, and the mounting self-imposed guilt/stress, I'd like to make some headway on it tonight and tomorrow. I expect that if I actually put forth even the slightest amount of effort I could put a good dent into it.

I must have listened to this song about a dozen times today.

Just thought that I would update this blog since I haven't done so in a little while. It is natural to assume, therefore, that I am procrastinating.

I'm getting ready for Christmas which will be an unusual one this year. My sister and her family are going to be in England for a wedding, and my Dad is going on vacation to Vancouver. It would have been a good opportunity for my girlfriend's parents to meet my Dad, but neither she nor I could get the time off at Christmas as we are both very low on the seniority level. We won't get holidays at Christmas until we're in our 40s.

That means that I will be spending the few days off that I do have at home. M. and I are going to spend Christmas morning together and cook a nice dinner. We might go to the movies. I've never gone to the movies on Christmas Day before, but I've always thought that it must be a lot of fun. I expect that the number of people sneaking booze in must be higher on Christmas Day. Anyway, we're sticking fairly close to home and we're going to enjoy our 4 days off. With luck, the annual piss-up afternoon of World Junior Hockey will happen, too.

Apartment Rental

I know that it has been a long time since my last post, but with a new job that often requires overtime, two graduate school courses, a long-distance relationship, my father, and sleep, I haven't had a lot of time to blog. I would like to, sure, but my days have been pretty busy.

I've been trying to rent the upstairs apartment this weekend. I showed it to a girl who was viewing it for a friend of hers. I emailed her the application form and received this back in response:

Dear Sir,

If you are writing for a reference for D.L., I can only say that he
is a marriage wrecking asshole who has been fucking my wife.

With good reason, I hate his fucking guts.

C.G.
husband of T.S.