Just Words

I've recently gotten my hungry little mitts on my very own *spiffy* (extra emphasis) lab coat. Spiffy is really the only word that could describe this lab coat, or any lab coat in my opinion. I originally requested it to prevent my clothes from getting drips and spills from the fluids we use for testing. I'm pretty sure my boss complied so quickly with the lab coat (as opposed to the apron I really wanted) because he was pretty sure I would never wear it. So, just to spite him I wear it every chance I get.

Everybody calls me "Doctor" when I wear it. To properly accompany the flaunting of the lab coat, I also take every opportunity to chide the other employees (especially the office staff) about their lack of appropriate lab attire. I keep reminding them that this style all the rage and they DO NOT want to be the last kid on the block without one.

Tonight, as I was leaving, I almost forgot to take the lab coat off before slipping out the door. Once outside there's no telling how far I would have travelled before realizing. In fact, there's an even chance I wouldn't have noticed at all until I got home.

Spiffy. That's all I have to say.

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I want to inspire. To encourage people to better themselves and express themselves in ways they haven't before. To open themselves to me and everyone I know. To expose themselves emotionally and figuratively. I want the things they think about and talk about to be something that I started. Something that I gave them.

And the people who don't respond to inspiration I want to challenge. Make them raise the level of their effort through opposition. I want them to want to beat me. I want them to feel the frustration and doubt that come with the thrill of competition. I want them to feel the adrenaline that only accompanies the important things in their lives.

I want to carve my name in the world. I want to affect and be affected. I want to interact in more than simply a passive manner. I want to be imprinted by the people I know and leave my impression on them in turn. I want to be important. And I want everyone to be important to me.

I want to find Truth. And I don't want to be alone when I get there.

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This is the funniest shit I've ever ripped off another blog. Play the bushgame (As in George W Bush, not...).

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I'm not sure if you can tell, but this is the same blog template I've always had. I just changed all the colours because I've seen too many other blogs that look like mine. If you have any suggestions of things to change or just plain things you can't stand to look at, please let me know. After all, how could I possibly be insulted? As you can clearly see, I'm colourblind.

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Just finished watching Weekend at Bernie's. I can't believe it's still as funny as it is. Most movies that were good in the 80's turn into real bad mojo when I watch them now. Have you seen Dirty Dancing lately? Anyways, the title of this post is one of the lines that made me laugh the hardest. Good times alone on a Friday night.

In related news, I almost boiled the water for my spaghetti down to nothing again tonight. I swear I'm just like the absent-minded professor whenever I'm home alone. Although I think nearly every time I've done this it's because I've been at my computer fiddling with somethingorother so maybe I should just stop doing that while I'm cooking? I don't know. It would seem easier to just pay attention. Or maybe only cook when I'm not alone. Anything but spend less time at my computer.

Is it healthy to spend as much time as I do with my computer? Perhaps more importantly, is the time I spend with my computer the real reason I'm alone on a Friday night? Is it possible to have a girlfriend who would understand the time I spend with (read: commitment I make to) my computer? It's difficult to part with for very long. Especially now that I'm getting into programming again. My mind wants to digest c code while I'm sleeping some nights. I'll blog about those fever-dreams some other time because they're too involved for this.

Maybe the real reason I'm alone tonight is because I'm working tomorrow morning. Bedtime for Bonzo soon boys and girls. Sleep tight.

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não por causa daqueles que fazem o mal,
mas sim por causa daqueles que observam e deixam o mal acontecer (Einstein)

This was the message I found in the middle of the page that had replaced wilwheaton.net when I checked it this morning. It translates from Brazilian Portuguese: The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of those that do evil, but because of those that observe and let the evil happen.

My best guess is that he has suffered some kind of hacker attack. Why any hackers would bother to attack Wil Wheaton is beyond me. And why would they leave such an ominous message? Could it be some kind of calling card? Something that the responsible parties leave behind everytime they do something like this? Of course, there's probably a much less interesting explanation to all this but that's why I had to speculate before the actual truth was revealed and stifled my over-active imagination. So while we're on a roll with this, why would these people claim that Einstein said this? Einstein wasn't Portuguese and he probably never went to Brazil. It doesn't sound particularly like something that Einstein would say either. His quotes are usually about knowledge or imagination or tricky relativity something-or-other.

Apparently it's back up and running for now. I'm sure the full story behind it will surface in the next few days.

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Ahhh... The pleasantly warm spring rain trickles down my forehead as I walk. For some reason nothing feels better than walking bareheaded in the rain. I feel the cold but I never get a chill. I take my shirt off so it can cover me completely. I get a charge from this feeling. The feeling of opposition like the rain is trying to take something away from me and I'm standing in its way, daring it to try something. My ego thrills that the cold water from the sky can't take away enough heat to threaten my health. Machismo was invented by feelings like this. I feel stronger when I have a force to oppose me.

I feel raw like the rain is stripping away all unnecessary parts of my body and my psyche alike to leave behind my devolved instincts. Like Michealangelo chipping away the unnecessary pieces to leave only David carved in stone. My purest emotions. Sadness. Loneliness. Happiness. Nervousness. Everything at once rising evenly to the surface to share in the exposure. This is the only time I feel no anger whatsoever. No bitterness or resentment to the world or the people in it. I feel like nothing else matters except facing the most violent rages of the most furious storms just to say I did it and lived. No one bothers me when I'm like this. I'd like to think it's because they know better but I'm the one who knows better than that. The truth is they ignore me because they recognize that the only thing a deliberately shirtless man in the rain can be is crazy, stupid or just plain not worth their time. I can be whoever or whatever I like on days like this. Nothing can stop me today.

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An ode to the rolling armchair assassin
You want me to think you commented in passing
Your french is terrible and I hate you
It would take a crazy woman to date you
You think you're so cool, you think you're all that
You think you're a madman, the shit, the shizzat
Giving blowjobs for dimebags you lousy whore
Singing songs like a pug-faced troubadour
Stupidity follows you like a humping dog
Why don't you start your own fucking blog?
Give me the link and I'll visit everyday
Or you can "shutup" and go on your merry way
You leave an email with my name just to taunt me
You act like a little whining bitch, honky
Surfing the net just to get a reaction
But I won't rest until I have satisfaction
You're slippery, lame, dull and sporadic
You must be on crack to act so erratic
But I needn't try hard to piece this together
Birds of a feather always flock together
Your random comments are transparent and hollow
You leave a trail a paraplegic could follow
Judging from the style of your misguided fandom
You're too specific to really be a random
The clues are now all falling into place
I'm closing in, constricting, cutting away your space
Alas it's too late you chubby limp-dick
I happen to know your real name is PATRICK

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Well, you saw it here first. Why do people base the expected results of a playoff series solely on the rank of the teams at the end of the regular season? If it worked out that way we wouldn't need the playoffs. Most people I talked to were very skeptical about Calgary making it past Detroit in the 2nd round, never mind San Jose in the 3rd round. Calgary finished 6th overall in the Western Conference so a lot of people thought that they weren't a very good team. Most Canadians put their playoff hopes in teams like Ottawa and Toronto. Tsk tsk tsk. I mentioned back during the Vancouver series (during which I cheered for Vancouver) that the fans in Calgary are crazy. Loud and cheering and everything a crowd of fans should be. And the team had what it took to win because I don't care what anyone says, Vancouver had a great team this year but Calgary still beat them.

And there's also the history factor which can never be ignored in hockey. I mentioned it in a previous post but I'll remind people now (this is the "I told you so" part.) The past 2 times that Vancouver and Calgary met in the playoffs: it was only the first round; the series was decided in overtime of the 7th game; and the winner eventually made it to the Stanley Cup final. But I guess I should include that this year is the 3rd time that has happened. There have been too many superstitious coincidences in hockey history to discount this one (see Bill Barilko reference1 & reference2).

But another thing I'd like to bring up is this whole bandwagon-jumping that has been happening all over Canada this year. There hasn't been a Canadian team to win the Stanley Cup since Montreal in 1993. And the last Canadian team to make it to the Finals was Vancouver in 1994 and at that time we Canadians hadn't suffered from such a severe Stanley Cup drought so there wasn't a sense of urgency across the country to win the Cup like there is this year. But Vancouver fans have always been bandwagon-jumpers by nature. Fair-weather fans. They like the team when it's doing well and hate the team when it's not. It's not very encouraging or motivating for the team. Remember the riot that happened after Vancouver lost in game 7 of the finals in '94? Does anyone remember hearing people talk about the Vancouver Canucks being "choke artists" or "losing as usual" after they failed to win that game? Give it up folks. You can hardly say that making it to the 7th game of the Stanley Cup Final and only losing by one point to be the actions of a team of lazy, no-good choke artists who only compete to lose. But that was the attitude of a lot of people.

Let's play compare and contrast for a second. The Calgary Flames are in the Stanley Cup Final this year and a lot of people are bandwagon-jumping because of it. Not that there's anything wrong with Canadians supporting the last remaining Canadian team in the playoffs. But if Calgary loses 4 games straight to Tampa Bay are we going to sulk away bitterly and call them "choke artists"? I'm pretty damn sure that the actual fans in Calgary, the ones who have been fans all year long, won't be but we're not talking about them right now. Are we going to put the blame on the players for "losing it for us"? Are we going to be angry about American teams being able to afford to pay players more money? Are we going to blame it on the referees? Are we going to blame everybody else but ourselves?

Hockey means a lot in Canada. Perhaps as much as Soccer does in Britain. We've attached our entire national identity to it. We've clung to the images of our great hockey heroes in their proudest moments. We celebrated when Paul Henderson scored to beat the Russians in the '72 Summit series. We wept when we heard that Maurice "Rocket" Richard had died in 2000. No one in Canada will ever forget the day we finally won the Olympic gold medal, a position that we dominated once upon a time. We will always be able to say that undisputedly the 5 greatest NHL players of all time were Canadian: Wayne Gretzky, Mario Lemieux, Bobby Orr, Maurice Richard, and Gordie Howe. No one can take that away from us. So why do we put so much pressure on a low-salary team that most of us were pretty sure wouldn't make it this far to begin with? If Calgary loses are we going to just pack in this whole hockey thing and declare that "it was a great run for a while" and choose a new national sport? I doubt it. So let's be happy that we got this far and let our last remaining hope this year just play their game. No pressure. No promises. No unrealistic hopes. No supreme letdowns. No harsh post-series criticisms and no "if only's". Just great hockey for the sake of watching great hockey.

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Sometimes I wish I could publish and immortalize every word of every exchange I share with Patrick but that's just not possible... yet. For now, I'm including an excerpt of an IM conversation I shared with him earlier today. I've corrected some spelling mistakes and changed the order a little so that everything would make sense. Patrick types faster than me and I was IMing a long lost cousin of mine at the same time so things were originally out of sequence. Any notes from myself to explain stuff is in [square brackets and italics.] Some extraneous side conversations have been edited for length. I am "Hermit" and his IM name starts as oops and changes quite frequently throughout the exchange.

oops says:
http://www.homestarrunner.com/cheatcommando.html

Hermit says:
i already went there. and watched it.

Hermit says:
got anything else for me? or is it my turn?

Hermit says:
http://www.takeoneforthecountry.com/

oops says:
this troop fuck thing is waAcked

Hermit says:
yes. i don't know if it's a hoax or not. could be.

oops says:
you should never say that

Hermit says:
why? because you want to be the first to say it so you could say "i told you so"?

[Last year sometime I happened to stumble across bonsaikitten.com and it deeply disturbed me because I thought it was real. Patrick insisted right from the moment he first saw it that it was fake and he eventually turned out to be correct. Ever since he's thought that he's the shizzat.]

oops says:
its bad nettiquette to make me do the homework on yore ideaz

Hermit says:
it's not my idea. i saw it on a blog i visit.

oops says:
yu frek

oops says:
so is frek

oops says:
is you are

oops says:
frekee

oops says:
FUCKERCUFCKNTNTNTCUFUCKER!!!!

oops says:
what i meant to say was

oops says:
this idea of hoax

oops says:
it is your attempt to rip me off?

Hermit says:
no. it just occurred to me that i shouldn't believe everything i read on the internet no matter how disturbing.

oops says:
yeah dude

oops says:
not like FUCKING cube kittty

Hermit says:
bonsai kitty was too immediately shocking for me to even thinmk about its validity.

oops says:
hahaha

oops says:
hahahahaj

oops says:
it could just as easily be real

Hermit says:
yeah. it could. like little chapters ALL OVER AMERICA.

oops says:
yeah

oops says:
girls who like to fuck

oops says:
man

oops says:
its so far-fetched

Hermit says:
it's not far fetched that they like to fuck

Hermit says:
or that they go to military places to do it.

oops says:
girls dont like sex

oops says:
you have to trick them

[Just to be clear, he's mocking me right now.]

Hermit says:
it's far fetched that it's organized and planned for times when the troops are about to ship out and that all these women organize in chapters and yak about it.

Hermit says:
go on "covert missions" and actually USE THAT TYPE OF LANGUAGE.

Hermit says:
that's a little more far-fetched then girls who like to fuck and go where guys aren't going to hang around looking for relationships to do it.

[Reading this now I'm not sure if it makes sense. I meant to say "girls who like to fuck but don't want guys hanging around looking for relationships so they go to places where the guys are less likely to expect a relationship because the guys are leaving the country very soon." Hope that helps.]

oops says:
but not really farfetched

oops says:
sure

oops says:
why not

oops says:
i know that girl

Hermit says:
you don't know that girl.

oops says:
so i got mixed up

oops says:
i meant to buy a bottle of "new car" freshener for my car

Hermit says:
so it would smell like a new car?

oops says:
but instead i bought "new human fetus"

Hermit says:
you still selling those demos tapes of your comedy routine out of the trunk of your car?

oops says:
you still stealing comedy tapes out the trunk o my car?

oops says:
you know what i would pay for? a list of pro-lifers who eat eggs

Hermit says:
an egg is not an embryo until it is fertilized. how many times do i have to tell you?

oops says:
its still life building block

Hermit says:
having once cracked one open into a frying pan, i can guarantee you that there is NO WAY you could mistake an egg for a fertilized embryo

oops says:
we could have a "surprise! your egg was fetilized" show

Hermit says:
we could start a theme restaurant.

oops says:
like hitchcok

Hermit says:
only serve breakfasts with embryos instead of ordinary eggs.

Hermit says:
yeah. like hitchcock

Hermit says:
i'm working this weekend so i can maybe have the weekend of my birthday off.

Hermit says:
gotta go, dude. gotta put my 8 hours in.

Spencer the guy says:
have a good one gringo

Hermit says:
sure thing blugo

[There is a story about the gringo-blugo thing but it's too long to tell right now]

Spencer the guy says:
:1

Hermit says:
HEY

Hermit says:
WTF

Spencer the guy says:
get to work

Hermit says:
you can't be "spencer the guy"

Spencer the guy says:
who is

Hermit says:
YOU ARE

Hermit says:
FUCKER

Spencer the guy says:
yes

Hermit says:
YOU'RE PATRICK

Hermit says:
YOU'VE TOLD ME PLENTY OF TIMES

Patrick the SPencer says:
i am indeed

Hermit says:
you wanna be like me? is that it?

Cheryl Fenner got hexed by Jesus says:
a little

Hermit says:
when did that happen?

Cheryl Fenner got hexed by Jesus says:
hex

SpencerFuckinSpencer says:
hex

allyourbasearebelongtous says:
hex

Hermit says:
I'm going to have to edit this shit for content AND length.

allyourbasearebelongtous says:
what content?

Hermit says:
you're right. mostly length. but with that the content is what goes first.

allyourbasearebelongtous says:
okay

Hermit says:
bye

allyourbasearebelongtous says:
bye

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I took Tuesday afternoon off to visit with my god-sister, Kisa. She's just returned from her Caribbean island slave labour experience and, as usual, already has plans for every moment of her life for the next 4 months. She was only going to be in town for a few days so I took the opportunity to leave work early and go to a pub with her for a few hours. It was fun. We talked mostly about where everybody is now and we told a lot of stories about her dad. All in all it was just the kind of distraction/stress relief that I needed to keep me going.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, our test "schedule" is fucking with my head. Jon, my boss, has expected finish dates for projects that overrun past the promised start dates of other projects. The only thing that keeps this boat afloat is my 11-hour days and weekend efforts. Tuesday, when I asked for the afternoon off, we had to have a meeting about it. They couldn't exactly say no to me because of all the overtime I've been putting in but they were still worried that losing half a day could lose all the ground that we've (I've) already gained this last week. Russ, the other guy who can run the SAR machine, is away this week for surgery and next week he'll be doing ERP testing with a visiting client so for now it's all me. Our only hope is to finish the current projects early enough to get an early start on the next projects because by the time they're finished more radios will have arrived for testing. Oh well, I could really use the extra money.

In other news, the last two mornings on my walk to work, in the same spot, I've been divebombed by this crazy bird. I'm not sure if it was the same bird both mornings but being that it's in the same location it very well could be. I don't know very much about birds but this one is all black so I think it must be some kind of crow or something. Anyway, it's really freaky because it'll give me no warning at all on the first pass. It buzzes right past my right ear within half a wingspan, then it rests on the telephone wire until I walk ahead of it so it can do it again. This morning I kept turning to face it so I could duck out of the way but it didn't help much because my mobility was hindered by a heavy bag of textbooks. It's like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Tomorrow morning I'm going to walk the same route without the heavy bag this time and I'll see if I can catch the little bugger. Or at least swat at it. I hate being in a situation where I can't fight back. Too bad I don't have a baseball glove. Then I could teach it a trick or two.

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Me: Spencer Watson here.

Phone: Hello, this is Anne **** from **** Collections.

Inner Voice: Whatever happened to the guy I was talking to? Rick. Did they transfer my file or something? Are they trying to throw me a curve ball?

Me: Hello.

Anne: Our client, the Royal Bank, said that you contacted them yesterday?

Me: That's right.

Anne: How can I help you?

Inner Voice: They are trying to pull a fast one. I was all ready to tell Rick where to go and how to get there and force the bank to take my money and now they've caught me on the phone with this new person I've never dealt with before. Bastards.

Me: Yeah, I'd like to pay off my debt.

Anne: Well, we made you an offer before, how does **** dollars sound?

Me: I can't pay it all off at once. I don't have the money. I want to make payments. Preferably to the bank. The other guy, Rick, he didn't give me many choices. He said pay the whole thing off right away or you'll take it to court. I didn't like either of those two options. That's why I went to the bank.

Anne: You can't get a loan from somewhere?

Me: To pay off debt? My dad tried to co-sign but they want him to put his house up. And that'll require an appraisal, which will take more time... and money.

Anne: So you need maybe a few weeks?

Me: Trying to get a loan from somewhere else is going to be a huge hassle for both me and my dad. I'd rather just make payments.

Anne: Well, we want to just settle the account right away. Could you get a loan if it was for less money?

Inner Voice: Does she think that I have all the time in the world to go to the bank twice a week to re-apply for loans? Does anybody else she deals with have that kind of time?

Me: Why can't I just deal with the bank about this?

Anne: Because the account has been referred to collections. We have the account now.

Inner Voice: She thinks she has me by the balls. She thinks she holds all the cards. She thinks she's in control. It's time to get what I want.

Me: Why can't I just pay the bank?

Anne: Do you have any collateral?

Me: No. I just have debt.

Anne: Well then you'll need somebody to co-sign.

Me: I don't need a loan from the bank. I already have one. I already owe them money. What's to stop me from just writing a check for $600 and mailing it to them every month until this thing is paid off?

Anne: Because you have to go through me. I have this account now.

Inner Voice: Hear that? She's chuckling in exasperation. She can't deny my logic. Does she really think that the bank will reject my payments and mail my check back? All they want is my money. And if I just start sending it to them then I doubt they'll complain too loudly. She's beginning to see that she doesn't have complete control here. She's going to have to make concessions to keep this account. There's something in this for her.

Me: Well I don't have the money. I can't pay it all at once. I want to make payments.

Anne: What kind of an offer did you make the bank?

Me: I offered them $600 a month with an option to pay more on occasions when I have it.

Anne: Okay, we'll try this. Send me 6 post-dated checks for $600 dollars and we'll see how that goes.

Me: Okay. I'll make them out for the 18th of every month because I get paid on the 15th and I'll be sure to have the money in the account by then.

Anne: But what about this month?

Me: I'll write one of the checks dated today and the rest for the next 5 months following.

Anne: Send it Express Post so that it will take only a day to get here, make the checks out to the Royal Bank and put the account number on the check. And make sure that none of the checks bounce. If you don't have the money on time then call ahead the day before to delay payment.

Me: It'll be in the mail tonight.

Anne: Good. Bye.

Me: Bye.

Inner Voice: Is it just me or did she sound a little miffed? Was she irritated that the conversation didn't go her way? Did it have to do with the way we worked out the debt payment? I know that she'd rather I pay it all up front but after that's not possible she had to realize that monthly payments were the next step. I can't imagine that it would be in anyone's best interest for this to go to court. Or was it a personal thing? Was her ego bruised that she couldn't control me and make me give in to whatever she wanted? Well, either way, I just bought myself 5 months at the $600 payments I wanted. Life is better today than it was yesterday.

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// posted by Spencer @ 1:01 p.m.

For a long time now, I've indulged in a little superstitious nonsense having to do with spotting "11:11" on a digital clock. The idea is that it's lucky to spot this and whenever you see it you make a wish. Childish nonsense really.

I have a friend whom I've been very fond of for quite a while. Her life hasn't been the turning out for her these past few years and whether it has to do with her personal decisions or just bad luck is a matter for debate and not the topic of this blog post. Anyway, for quite a while now, every time I've spotted "11:11" I've made a wish for her life to get better. I've never known how to help her but it's just a good feeling to think that somehow that extra little bit helps.

Recently, I've had a bit of a falling out with that friend and I haven't spoken to her in several months. But I guess out of habit more than anything else, I've still given up a little wish for her life to improve whenever "11:11" comes up. I've done it for so long that I haven't really thought much about making my wish any other way.

Today, I spotted "11:11" but instead of thinking of her, I used my wish for myself. My newfound financial status has made me just that much more selfish and sheltering of my own interests. And the time I've spent away from her and the animosity I've nursed for the things she did have thrown this wall up that has now encompassed completely every large and small part of my mind. Like watching the last embers of the burning bridge fall into the creek bed and get washed away.

It was quite liberating really. A sense of freedom I haven't felt in a long time. I can still feel my chest tense up when I think of her and how things were between us. My body subconsciously trying to restrict its oxygen intake and manually regulate the complex and overwhelming emotions I that threaten to throw me out of control. But today I feel the release of true relaxation.

I'm almost finished 11 hours of work after a hectic morning chasing bankers and avoiding collections people and I feel like I could go for another 11. I feel the confidence and fortitude I'll need tomorrow when I plan to force the bank to accept my payments and cut the collections people out of the loop. And I'll need all the superstitious wishes I can get.

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My poor truckie is gone. The poor thing only made it to Winfield on its final journey to the farm. Now it's sitting at a gas station waiting for the tow truck to come pick it up tomorrow. What happened, you ask? Did the piston that was falling apart explode in the cylinder? Did the engine throw a pushrod through the crankcase? Did I veer suddenly and flip over, skidding across the road only to explode in a fiery inferno from which I barely escaped? I'm afraid the reality is nothing so dangerous and exciting as all that. No, the engine block cracked and all the coolant leaked into the inside of the engine. So it started heating up, white smoke started coming out of the exhaust. I pulled over in the nearest gas station and there it sits even now.

After a great hassle and many conversations with different auto wreckers I finally talked to one that would agree to pay for the tow and give me some money besides so I'm waiting for tomorrow to send the old beast to its final resting place. If you know anyone who needs parts for a Ford F-100 tell them to go to Kelowna Pick-Ur-Part. There's a new carb and new front brakes ready to be claimed for a very affordable price.

It's a good thing I didn't cash that check for the truck. Now all I have to do is tear it up instead of actually pay it back.

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Alas, I have sold my truck to my dad. The price of gas along with my current financial situation makes it infeasible to think about fixing it up and driving it full time again. I was a little nervous that it wouldn't start when I tried it today. It cranked over for about 20 seconds before I started pumping the gas pedal repeatedly. I thought for sure it would need a boost but it fired up just like it had been running every day since I parked it. I checked the oil and gave the clutch a slight adjustment and it was ready for the road again.

The engine clanged loudly as a reminder of the rebuild it desperately needs. Tomorrow morning I will drive it out to my dad's 100-acre property for its next (and possibly last) life as a farm truck. I miss it already. Listening to it run today reminded me of so many good times I had in it. Of the freedom I felt knowing I could go anywhere anytime I wanted. In contrast, walking is like having a ball-and-chain strapped to my leg. I desperately want to be free again.

I have purposefully delayed cashing the check my dad wrote for the truck. I want to wait until it survives the trip to his farm. If life has taught me one thing lately it's that I shouldn't count my pennies before I've properly earned them. And the transaction on the truck won't be complete until delivery is made.

On the plus side of all this I'll get to spend the day and night with my 4 year old nephew, Jager. He's such a sweet, bright, attentive little boy. Much more observant than I was at that age. Or maybe at any age come to think of it. He's definitely a lot cuter than I am. Especially with that little gap between his two front teeth.

Wow. I got through an entire blog post without once slipping into angst, despair or outright rage. Could this be a sign of a new, peaceful Spencer? Don't count on it.

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-Riiiiiing-

silence

-Riiiiiing-

I stir on my bed and hurry across the room. I silently curse myself for not leaving my phone next to my bed like usual. Just before I answer, I check the time. 8:15. shit.

-Riii-

Me: Hello?

Phone: Hello, this is **** **** from **** Collections. Is this Spencer?

Me: Yes.

Phone: Oh, you're sleeping. I woke you up?

Me: Yeah but... that's alright.

Phone: You were supposed to call me yesterday after your appointment at the bank.

Me: Yeah. Sorry about that. We got out of the bank a little later than we'd hoped.

Phone: So what did they say? Did you get the loan?

Inner voice: Who the hell is this guy? He should know that it takes longer than that. Does he think the bank is just going to write me a check because I ask for it? On a loan to pay off debt? How do they repossess debt?

Me: They said that those decisions aren't made in the branch. They said I should hear something back today.

Phone: Okay. Who did you talk to at the bank?

Me: The lady's name was **** ****.

Phone: And it's pronounced like that? What's her number there?

Me: Hold on a sec. She gave me a card. I think it's in my pants pocket.

Phone: Not that I'm going to call her. But the people I'm dealing with have to know that it's a real person you're dealing with.

Inner Voice: What does he think? That I'm making it up? Who would go through such a charade? But then again, is it less believable than your story that you didn't know you owed the money in the first place? This guy deals with sneaky fuckers every day.

Me: Yeah. Here it is. ***-**** Extension ***.

Phone: Okay. Make sure you call me today before 4 PM when you find out about the loan.

Me: Okay.

Phone: Good luck.

Me: Thanks.

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I hate the way banks always make me nervous. The desks are always clean like the people who work there have nothing to keep them busy. Everything is so organized. They asked me all kinds of questions about my finances and crap, too. I know it's their job but it doesn't make me feel any less nervous about the whole procedure.

My dad is quite the shyster. He's self-employed and he only draws enough actual "income" to stay alive in order to avoid taxes. So, on paper, I make more money than he does. Glory day. Of course, everything he owns is paid for and he grows most of his food in a hobby garden during the summer months so his living expenses are super low. And the fact that he funnels a lot of expenses through his company makes the situation a little skewed. But none of that really matters. I make more money than my dad!

But then, none of that really matters to the bank either so he might not make a very good co-signer. I'm very nervous about all this. I really need this to go off with very few hiccups. My stress level has been peaking all week. Doing anything when you're stressed out is like doing the same thing with a 50 pound weight strapped to your back. This means that even things like sitting in a chair all day or sleeping at night can make you uncomfortable and restless. Your muscles stay a little tense all day long and you feel sore from it at the end of the day.

The tension was thick in that little office with the loan lady doing her credit check thing. Dad was silent and nervous and it was really affecting me. The lady was noticeably trying to smile a lot and ease our tension but it was just as noticeable that it wasn't working. Grim is the only word I can find to adequately describe it.

Closer to the end of the hour-long session Dad and I started a little side dialogue about hockey which finally broke things up a bit. He was rubbing in the fact that he's about to win our annual bet for the 5th year running. Sometimes I wonder if any payment will ever be made on that bet. Maybe this year I'll buy him a bottle of whisky to ease the burden a little. Maybe drinking a bottle of whisky with my dad will be just the kind tension-easing experience I need right now.

At any rate, I won't hear anything more about the outcome of my loan application until tomorrow so now I just have to try to pass that much time without exploding. It's days like this that seriously make me want to start a shitlist. Strangely, no one who works at the bank would be on it... yet.

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So I came to work early today to get everything organized. I made an appointment at the bank in Vernon for 3PM tomorrow (today?) the 12th. Whatever. Dad has agreed to co-sign a loan for me and pick me up at the bus depot at 12:30. Which means that we'll have time to go for lunch and explain to him what's going on. <'sarcasm>That'll be a fun time.<'/sarcasm> I wish I had a voice recorder so I could cherish the moment forever. If there's anyone in the world who might be harder on me then myself it's Dad.

I told Jon (my boss) that I would be late for work tomorrow, as I usually start at 3:30. I talked to the nice lady who handles our payroll about getting some kind of paystub copy for the bank and, instead, received a glowing letter of employment and income confirmation. If I have any money to spare after all this I might just buy her flowers.

Then I talked to the guy at the collection agency and he agreed to take about 15% off the top if I was able to get this loan and pay the remainder right away. This feels like the strange twistings of fate at work but I'll blog more about that later.

And yes, I did just use the word "blog" as a verb.

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Grrrr. How could I be so monumetally stupid? I'd like to introduce you all to the little voice inside my head that makes me pay for all my misdeeds.

Inner voice: Did you think it was going to be that easy? You thought you had that debt all paid, didn't you? Silly, foolish boy. You didn't think to check for other debts, did you? Just assume that everything is fine with the world. Foolish foolish foolish stupid naive.

How could I miss a debt that large? How could I have assumed that such a significant portion of my student loan had been forgiven? Chalk this up there with all the other great defeats in history. Did Custer think there were going to be that many Indians at the Little Big Horn? Did the Americans think that the Japanese could massacre Pearl Harbour? Did the Germans think that they could lose the Battle of Britain? In every case, no, they didn't. They didn't think. They were brash, bold and assuming. Just like me. My irresponsibility is rampant. And notorious. Where's my accountant? Oh yeah. He's in the freezer. I chopped him up last month when I thought I no longer needed him.

Inner voice: And now you've gone out bragging to everybody about how much extra cash you were going to have and what you were going to be able to do with it. You look good with egg on your face. What was that about fixing your truck? Dating? Forget about all that, boy. You've got work to do. You've got a lot of nights listening to Playoff Games on Internet radio ahead of you. And when the Playoffs are over you'll still be at it. Hell, you'll still be at it this time next year when the Playoffs are on. Ha ha ha.

Someday that little bastard is going to get a psychological knuckle sandwich right in the pucker. The worst part is that it's not going to be today. Or even any day soon for that matter. Hindsight is a funny thing. I can see the events that let to this event. Last year I paid off something that was called a "Canada Student Loan" through a collections agency. Then I paid my BC Student Loan like a good little boy (okay, I started my payments a little late in the game but I paid it off in good time). Wrote the last check last month on the 15th, no problem. Now I get this call about this other portion that I have yet to pay. And they got all their info from the BC student loan people too because they had the same mistake in my address information. I'm not pissed that they passed it along because I always knew that once one company had my name they'd all get it. But the fact that they waited until NOW to pass it along REALLY pisses me off. I could have been paying this thing off a long time ago. Or at least planning for it. Or getting a consolidation loan (which is what I'm doing tomorrow) to fight this thing. But no, they waited until they had everything they wanted from me before they let the other dogs rip me apart. Fuckers. God damn it.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not angry that I owe the money. I owe it and I'll pay it. That's the bottom line. I'm angry at myself for not looking out for this thing earlier. For keeping my head low in an "ignorance is bliss" kind of outlook. If I'm not going to look out for me then no one else will. Fuck fuck fuck fucking shit. Cock bitch cunt slut motherbitch whore. Fucking shit.

I know I should have been more on top of my student loan from the start. I should have made all the necessary inquiries the first week that I came back from Victoria. But it was a little difficult to dredge up the balls to start paying off a huge debt when I had no money to pay it. Especially when I knew that I could put it off for a year or two with no interest. So I guess after that it became easier to forget about it than do anything. And when I started getting the calls to pay it back I just paid the people who called instead of actively looking to make sure that everyone who needed money was being taken care of. Fucking shit that's no excuse, either. It's just the slippery walkway that led to me falling flat on my face near the finish line.

Inner voice: Your worthless. People like you need chaperones in life because you can't look after your own shit. You can't be trusted to not screw up anything this important. You thought you had everything under control. You had life by the balls. A big raise. Lots of overtime. Guess you learned a lesson this time, eh? Chump.

That's how I really feel too. Like a chump. Like a fool who opens his mouth only to prove that he's a fool. There. I think I'm done the tirade of self-deprecation. Bloody hell.

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There's something going on in the world right now. But I'm too tired to tell you all about it. So you'll have to wait.

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Since I started this blog, I've been reading other random blogs quite a bit. Partly to learn what I'm doing and partly to see what can be done with a blog. But now I find that there are a few that I keep going back to for the content, not just the style. So I've put links to two of them on my blog. It feels weird linking to blogs of people I don't know. Blogs are more personal than webpages. And usually more interesting because they tend to get updated more often. But I think that I'm anonymous enough and have read enough of these two particular blogs to feel comfortable linking to them here. But then again, I don't know why I'm making such a big deal out of this. It's not like the 5 people who regularly read my blog (you all know who you are) are going to cause a rapid influx of traffic to either of these sites.

These two blogs are interesting for me when compared to each other. They are both maintained by aspiring writers. One perhaps more successful than the other. And both live (from what I can tell) in southern California. But other than that they are completely different people and I relate to each one for different reasons. The author of "Notes From Above the Ground" has occasional success in life but struggles with a perpetual attraction to trashy women. On the other hand, Lola, the author of "Jugular Dance", is a geek of technical-programming experience/background who struggles with what looks like a nerd-like ineptitude in social situations, which I also very much relate to. Both are intelligent and witty.

The awful thought has crossed my mind just now as I'm writing this, what would happen if this blog post were somehow a catalyst to these two people meeting and dating in real life? Stranger things have happened, to be sure. They would, of course, be all wrong for each other but that doesn't usually stop people from pursuing relationships. Especially in southern California if what I've seen on TV is correct.

For me, it would be like a marriage of two conflicting sides of my personality. Two parts of me that have been at war for a very long time. One that wants to be "cool" and look good so I can attract women at bars and parties and other impromptu occasions. And the other that is more realistic in that it doesn't really understand anything about fashion or how to be cool and instead just wants to indulge in all these crazy projects and intricate puzzles, searching for some kind of justification for a brain that's equipped for these things. I think inevitably the angry, third side of my personality is going to have to smack the first two around a little and make them see sense on this whole we're-all-trapped-in-the-same-body thing. And the two abovementioned bloggers will probably never even know each other exists.

Life sure is confusing.

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Looks like TechTV might be in trouble. All staff has been let go. A moment of silence please.

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Okay. After reading this webpage I no longer know anything about history.

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The following blog post is a response to a comment to a previous post from a random named Amber.

Feel free to disagree, Amber. We're all about freedom of speech here. I never intended to say that conversion is the focus of Christian faith. I wanted to make a statement about the nature of religious conversion itself and I used Christianity to do it because it is the religion that most people in this part of the world are familiar with. Religions are not like cars where you can have one to use for work and a different one to drive on Sundays. Religions are pretty much mutually exclusive by nature. If you want one then you usually have to give up on any of the others, at least until you're re-converted. Trying to convince someone else to convert to your specific belief is like a word-of-mouth sales technique that refuses to become truly unfashionable - like Amway. Christian missionaries are sent to Asia all the time in an attempt to convert Buddhists to Christianity. But if the Pope were to meet with the Dalai Lama, would either one try to convert the other? How did any of the big religions (excluding Judaism) become as big as they are? Conversions, of course. This brings to mind the thought that, where conversion is concerned, organized religion is run a lot like a business, or a presidential campaign. Having the largest number of supporters tends to give you a lot of pull.

I actually do think that "we" deified Jesus. Whether or not he actually claimed to be the son of God can be called into question. Just the same way that the immaculate conception is questionable. Did you know that the virgin birth is only mentioned in 2 of the 4 main gospels? And one of those two refers to it as an unlikely possibility. People imagined that there must have been some important sign of Jesus' arrival when he was born. After all, there's no way that such an important prophet and spiritual leader could descend upon this plain of existence without some kind of omen or other, right? The Bible is made up of the Gospels. The Gospels were first-hand accounts of what the apostles saw and heard. They didn't see and hear everything and they were susceptible to all the standard human traits, like embellishment. It's plausible that in order to name Jesus as the son of God the apostles had to say that he actually claimed the title himself. It seems almost out of character for an otherwise incredibly humble and unassumingly wise preacher to make such a brash statement. Jesus taught people to seek truth in their own hearts not in other people. Bordering on contradictory territory but still only something to be questioned and debated, not proclaimed as fact.

As far as Christians mixing religion and politics is concerned, let's just take a look at the media. On Palm Sunday, Senator John Kerry had his picture taken waving a palm leaf in a Church somewhere for the important Christian holiday. Why do you think that was? It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that he's running for president this year, could it? Why is the president's religious affiliation so widely publicized? Why do politicians seek photo opportunities at churches? Why are there so few American politicians who are Muslim or Buddhist? It would seem that the separation between the Church and the State is something that's practiced but not preached in the US. The counterpoint to this is that the president doesn't take orders from any religious leader. But then again, he does refer to principles from the bible when forming policy like that whole gay marriage thing. Again, a debatable issue.

I don't know. What do you think?

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EXCELLENT! I just received a copy of Borland 5.0 C++ Compiler. Now I can resume building that program I started so long ago. The reality of the vurtual realm will solidify at my keystroke. Bits and pixels will jump at my command.

Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha

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I've decided to stop going to Jiu Jitsu for a few months. Work is just too crazy and there's no sign of it slowing down. When I needed the money I really enjoyed the overtime but now that it's starting to detract from the few social activities I participate in I'm beginning to realize that I have a problem. Don't get me wrong. The overtime is totally optional and I can refuse to do it if I choose. But on Friday afternoon my boss gave me a (big) raise to "recognize and appreciate the effort" I've put in lately so I'd feel a little sheepish about telling him to stop relying on me so heavily. But more than just that, I want to give everything I have at work. I'm finally working for someone who rewards my hard work without being pushed or prompted and who takes my ideas seriously. I've been given quite a bit of leeway to implement ideas that I have on company time and with company money and I'd like to repay that trust in kind. I want to be a part of a successful organization and if I can make a substantial amount of cash along the way then why the hell would I want to slow down?

But then again, I can't spend every waking hour at work, either. And I really enjoy Jiu Jitsu. It's something I've wanted to do for a long, long time but never really had the opportunity until now. But I want to be able to make a commitment to it and I don't want to pay a monthly fee for something that I'm only able to use twice a month. Twice a month is not a commitment, it's a token effort and if that is all I can give then it's time to re-evaluate. I'm not pulling any punches here. This is a defeat for me. Or, to extend the metaphor, a retreat with a vow to return at a later time when I have the means necessary to win. It will only truly become a defeat if I'm never able to return.

My sensei was a little less than understanding about the whole thing. He seems to think that I'm giving up somehow. I could have told him that I was injured and unable to participate and he would have been fine with that. Maybe he should consider it like an injury. An injury of the brain. He said that he "knew what it was like" to work so much because years before he worked a lot of overtime for a company that apparently took advantage of him. But I don't feel like I'm being taken advantage of. This job isn't something that any random person in the unemployment line can learn to do. The company is going to hire somebody else (for me to train, yippee) but in the meantime, I'm the man.

Getting back to my sensei, although he claimed to understand he seemed a little too eager to convince me to reconsider. He seemed to think that before my situation would change I would have to get fed up with getting overused and change it myself. I could have told him that he was probably given all kinds of similar advice on the subject before he went ahead and found out for himself what it was like. But I thought that would be disrespectful and I wanted to keep a lighter tone to the conversation.

I'm still confused about the disappointment I heard in his voice, though. For the last 2 months I've felt bad that I've rarely attended Jiu Jitsu and part of consciously giving it up is about putting away that daily reminder of what I'm missing so that I can improve my mood. But I found out while I was explaining this to him that a big part of the mood improvement relied on his understanding, mostly because I respect him a lot. Now I find myself having less respect for him because of his lack of support for my decision. For the last 2 months I've been worried that he would disapprove of my lack of attendance but now it seems more like he disapproves of the lack of my monthly fee. I cast a pall over the whole issue by boiling it down to money but I see very little other difference between rarely-attending-but-still-paying and never-attending-and-not-paying. He said that in a few months I would be accustomed to not showing up and then it would be easier to stay away but that's not a valid argument because I was accustomed to not showing up before I ever signed up in the first place and I fit everything in just fine. The fact is that someday I will become accustomed to working 40 hour weeks again and then I'll have plenty of time for Jiu Jitsu.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the extra cash I'll get from my new raise and the fact that I'll soon be working weekends again. I guess I could start saving up for a new engine for my truck. Then I could save time by driving places instead of just walking everywhere all the time. Who knows, maybe then I'll even be able to date again.

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