What a miracle it is that I may see through these eyes, that these globes of matter with a bio-electrical circuit causes a reaction in my brain to process light...

What a miracle it is that billions of carbon molecules arranged in the proper order produces something like me, and that a billion of carbom molecules arranged in the proper order, although slightly different, produces something like you.

What a miracle it is that these carbon molecules allow feelings of love, joy, even anger. That these alone are useless, but mended together perform. French, English, Polish, stories of immagination without limits, all possible by such harmonious arrangement of dead matter.

What a miracle it is that outside of all these miracles is one of magnitude so great that its depths are unfathomable, that somewhere, beyond our understanding of existence, reigns a sovereign God, who spoke to create all of these miracles.

Don't tell me these are all caused by chemical, that this explicable by means of science, because I already know that. Science, simply put, explains that which God does. And it's fantastic. Miraculous even.

Good morning all.

It's 3:13am... I'm not at work. I was going to call in sick, and on the phone with my boss, he tells me I'm not even scheduled to work. Strangely enough since my Dad said I was... Work politics going to get ugly...

I have spent the last four hours watching Biker Build-Off on Discovery... man some SWEET bikes. I miss my bike. Once the repairs are done, I'd like to change my tail light from a bulb to some LED lights. Those are sweet.

As you may notice I am hyper. So I am going to bed. Goodnight. Holy crap it's early for bed.

I've figured my clock is 12 hours fast. See, church finished at noon for you is church finishing at midnight for me. Also, since I start work at 12, it's like I get to sleep in (till 11) and putz over to work, just as anyone who would that starts at noon. Kinda neat.

Err... Anyways, to bed. Yes. Bye.

Today was the bestest day of my whole vacation, with the exception of the actual Christmas events. I went up to visit my cousin and aunt last night and ended up spending the night.
Since there were a few people involved, here is the cast of characters
Traci - my aunt
Zoe - 5yr old my Aunt looks after
Karen - my Aunt's longtime friend who recently married this cool guy who owns a cow farm
Joey - Karen's 12yr old son
Soloman (Sully) - the dog, not the barky one or the black and white one, but the cute one that followed us around all day.

So this morning started out with bacon, always a good thing. So being grungy and tired I ate my bacon and then some kids my aunt looks after came over ans we had more bacon. Ok so really this is shaping up to be a great day already, but then we decide to take Zoe out to feed the seagulls. On the way to the ocean my aunt suggests going to see her friend Karen, and my first thought was woop de doo, going to someone's lame house, but I said it would be fine with me. So after we spend some time feeding the seagulls, watching them fight for the big chunks of stale bread we head off to KAren's house. To recap thus far...bacon, little kids and the ocean, a great day, and working its way to BEST day.

Karen's house is a little dinky thing but set on a huge piece of land. We go in and have cofffee and learn a little tid bit. If you eat sweets after your meals you get fat, so you should have them for breakfast.

Anyways so i spent the next hour being driven around on a little tractor truck thinger by a Joey. They have like 500 cows ans I got to pet the babies, and play with the Dogs and feed a horse and see some ducks and play with the baby cows and it was so great!! I think i like farms, except maybe the time I stepped in a pile of stinky, runny poo....it was grose.

well that was it, the BEST day yet. (sorry it was so long an maybe boring, it was just so fun, and I had to edit stuff out too...)

Damn.

I am in a mouldable mood. James asks, "Mouldable?" I respond, "Yes".

Have I found a place of balance; that in this day I can be without anger, without happiness, without joy, without sorrow? Am I so unaffected by disturbing or happy thoughts alike that I might claim my mindset to be the Canadian in the U.N. of mindsets; that I hereby be known as neutral without bias?

Or rather, have I found a desolate island, one that knows no anger, no happiness, no joy, no sorrow? That I am not able to feel anything simply becuase they are no where to be found? Would I dig deep to find some emotion burried, covered in mud, but existent, no less?

Or rather still, that perhaps apathy has struck. That one brain can only take so much caring, only so much theorizing, philosophizing, that eventually it will take someone else's emoting and mould it to it's own.

Perhaps given all of the above, I will balance my efforts in digging at my apathy and philosohphizing. Maybe I will find some reserve of cold, burried, imitated feeling to reproduce. Or maybe instead an inviting, aged and thoughtful persona will be exposed.

--

Piano frolicking in the pastures beyond, does he ever breathe, does he ever pause? Nay, he be forever pleasuring, forever tickling. Who is he that swoops down ever so joyously from his soprano sounding flute, that he may pleasure the pianist, blow his hair, and cause two sounds to mingle so effortlessly beautiful? The duet like music to my ears fill void where there was once passion.

--

If opening an MSN message is sitting down to have a chat with a friend, then making them wait for 20 minutes is staring blankly into their face, making them try to understand through telepathy what it is they want to know, or what it is you want them to know. Oddly enough, this is a very thoughtful thing.

Come on in
I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in
I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones
That I started looking for a warning sign

When the truth is, I miss you
Yeah the truth is, that I miss you so
--Coldplay, "Warning Sign"

Stripe after stripe of reflective yellow flies by as the words play out in his mind. He sits and attempts to fix himself, searching for his "warning sign"--what was it that caused this longing?

His mind flashes white, and suddenly he's lying face up on Cultas Lake's boat dock attempting to count the stars aloud. She only laughs and tries counting them herself.

Another flash and he finds himself driving, but doesn't recognise the road. She says to him, "My absolute favourite thing is driving around aimlessly with you". Turns out he didn't know the street then either.

A final flash of white light leads him to his teenage home, to his backyard, where all of his friends had gathered, bringing meet for the grill and chairs for their bottoms. One guy runs through--buck naked.

He hadn't zoned out or died, but instead relived the thousdands of memories that has made his life worth while. How funny to think that time and time again he has passed each of these yellow stripes, just as he planned to pass each memory time and time again. On the road, paying new attention to, he said to himself "The truth is, I miss them all".

I am super stoked about the future of ranDOMinion.

We are looking to host it on a real webserver, with webspace and bandwidth and all kinds of great stuff. It'll allow us to do things like post movies or audio (some really media heavy stuff), have e-mail addresses like "andrew@randominion.com", make the website www.randominion.com... oh man... It'll allow things like .php files and .css files and multiple pages.

I'm building the code for the new page, ahead of time, so that it's ready to go for launch... and OH it's looking HOT. Really, I mean it looks a LOT less amateur. But fun, and random still. :)

I would now like to take this time to give shout outs to some regular visitors (I'm lonley):

Matty Robson: what about Abbey vs Vancouver?
Melissa Buck: wurd.
Sarah Switzer: the Switz! ...Rejoice!
Christy Baker: christmas in Dawson's creek... *sigh*
Carissa English: E... great times...
Chrystal (you know your last name, I obviously don't): did you fall into a hole?
Ashley Armstrong: wurd. Gimme your job. When we gonna hang?
Momma Jo: thanks for being the most faithful visitor I know of.
Steph Ip: code. code? code! mmm... tasty code
Krsiti Abramson: I think you've fallen into a hole too... hello? o? o? o?...
Kelsey Plumb: boycott those useless words
Karen McArthur: no pleading insanity here, only randomanity.
Allie Robertson: ocean eh? home anyways.
James Campbell: where's my roomey? i'm all alone...
Adam Kropf: sorry 'bout the guitar, any news there??
Dave McCormick: put the key IN the door. DO IT. do it. do it. do it. do it. DO it.

If you've been left out, I promise it wasn't intentional. You're cool too. Merry Christmas everyone! Uhh... A bit early, but I promise it's quite alright. Calm down already!

Use the key.

The one in your hand. Use it.

That key in your hand. The copper thing. Shinney like. Put it in the door.

The freaking key that I have given to you. The one that you're holding. Long, skinney, shiney like brass, with grooves and notches in it. Take it in your finger and thumb, put it to the keyhole and turn it.

The key does nothing for your in your hand, you have to apply it.

That door isn't much of an obstacle if you would just use the keys you've been given.

"Uhh, yes, that baggage there is mine. No, I want my Low Self Esteem, and my dependancies and my low feeling of Self Worth."

Imagine for a moment that you check into the airport, and you're good to go, and you get to security to find out that you still have your leatherman micra (tiny unthreatening utility knife with scissors and stuff) attached to your keychain and you desperately need to get rid of it. You could mail it to yourself, but why? Give it to some freshmen. We all love to give others our problems (not meant as a bash, Adam, just follow the story!). Tara's great. Ready to go again, but they don't allow wrenches in your carry-on luggage, so again, you go to find that person who will take your "unacceptable" baggage. Arrive at your destination, on time, but wait a half hour to get your suitcase, but not your guitar in the fragile section. You wait for two hours and check the next four flights to see if it comes in. Nope. It's your biggest piece of fragile baggage. Hooray for Air Canada! You put "GOING TO TORONTO" right on the ID tag, and Presto! You're in Montréal and your issues are in Toronto. Who knew an airline company shipped that kind of baggage?

That would be great...

Disclaimer: I am deeply saddened by Adam's horrifying story, however, when twisted slightly it illustrates the desire of the average North American, teenaged male to wish his problems away instead of solving or working through them.

Ever had a secret so big you never told anyone?

Well I just told someone.

What have I done???

Oh to be vulnerable.

Oh to be released.

Oh to think of the future...

Well, as I have been reading, Christmas is a hard time.

I've also had a hard time.

I am not going home. Turkey dinner, yes. But there is no place for me at home. I have been replaced, by some 27 year old bum who's using our driveway as his parking lot, and my bedroom (or whatever you could call what was called my bedroom) as a hotel.

My mother did a good job at making me feel very unwelcome for the total of two hours that I was there. Saying things like, "You finally discovered 'real' life," or "When I was young social time was weekends only, and Saturday was Chore Day," with large emphasis on the chore day. It's as if the hard semester I had was to prove everything she had ever said to me...?

Either way, I left to go see Geoff, and his mom and dad are outisde on the driveway when I pull up, and she's all, "Andrew! So good to see you! How's school, how's this, how's that." I think I will move in with them.

My brother and sister deserve better than this mess my parents have made of their teenagehood. I wish there was ANYthing I could do.

Looking beyond Christmas, to New Years, maybe something to try different in the new year...? Think of Alan and Anne. They need it.

Well classes are over and exams are done, three weeks of school free relaxation! Well it might not be the holiday I want it to be. Yesterday, my first whole day home I find out several disconcerting things. It turns out my friends are so messed up. One is living with her dim witted boyfriend, working at the liquor store and rotting her teeth out with bulimia. Another is living with her boyfriend who is 12 years older than her, working at the bowling ally and is pragnant! These are two of my favorite people. I mean how does this happen? Sometimes I worry that I shouldn't be away at school where I never see these people, I can't bee a good example from so far away. I hate to see people that I care about living lives that are so hard. An 18 year-old with a baby and a 22 year-old killing herself with her lifestyle. It makes me sad. It makes me more than sad. So thats how this vacation has started...I am sure it will get better, I get to see some amazingly fun people and spend time with my sister...which might turn out to be good times....

As he entered the room, Clark Kent discovered, much to his amazement, that all his super-hero friends had gathered. Spiderman, Wonderwoman, even Mighty Mouse, to name a few.

"Surprise!" They all popped out from behind their lead shields. To say the least, he was quite surprised.

"What's the occasion?" Asked the large, stocky Superman. It wasn't his birthday; they hadn't just defeated arch nemesis Dr Evil. Something else was up.

Then Mighty Mouse stammered out, "We're all leaving...to umm, take a break. It's Christmas time, and you know how it is; we miss our family." Clark had already made a conscious decision to stay where he was during the holidays; work would be plentiful and there would be some obvious holiday crime to bust.

So the party started. All the super-heros gathered in one place, turned the music up real loud; they thoroughly enjoyed shooting their lazer-beam eyes at their indestructible spiderwebs. However, one by one, they began leaving.

They were mostly teary departs--on the guests' side--to begin with. Some super-heros confessed that they weren't to return, and were overly emotional about their departure. Clark, however, stayed straight-faced, confident as ever, undisturbed by the sad news that any of his friends are leaving, perhaps never to see them again.

As the party dwindled, a very curious little redhaired girl approached Clark and asked, "Why does everyone cry except you, Superman?"

Clark, pondered a while, and answered, "Little Red, I have too much crime to fight to be bothered with silly emotions like sadness, or to cry over the inevitable. I just don't have the time."

Little Red turned around, and walked off, without any response. Clark's heart sunk. "Alone again," he mumbled.

Water Buffalo's money's on the cat. Think about it. Kitty. Ronald. Kitty. Ronald. Cat. Fat. Cat. Fat. I think cat wins. Escapoopface or whatever enjoys having his legs dismembered and pushed into his squishy body. Fun.

Said Italian Water Buffalo will be lovedly presenting to us "Syncronous JPEG file of the Day" for the next few days. He's a nice guy, with nice pics, and is a girl.

Yes...

Ok, Shut up!





Moose, moose.

What is wrong with reading in class? Seriously! I'm probably getting more education from the book...
Chai.

WHO reads up eXtensible Mark-up Language at
WHAT what seems to be two in the morning,
WHEN really he should be sleeping
WHERE instead he sits and wonders
WHY its possible even to fathom such things?

The theme of defeat is running rampant during the last fortnight. The stresses of interpersonal relations, school, work all meeting each other simultaneously to provide the whopping and everlasting Christmas Stress Load.

After not sleeping for 37 hours, I managed to sleep eleven hours before an exam, leaving three hours to read and understand and memorize notes (that are not mine) which I will see for the first time. This is the effect of playing video games and going to work instead of studying and writing papers. Sure, work and school can be balanced, but I've failed it. I am defeated.

After not sleeping for 37 hours and hearing two circles of drama, dealing with each, protecting and defending victims of each, I have come to the conclusion that even the bravest of souls have to stop for a while and cry; that sometimes less action is better; that smiles are so precious. But even so, as my friends are defeated, tired and weary, crying or fuming, I am there.

Oh what it is to be defeated, to look down at your castle, or your domain, and see it in ruins, and to ask "What went wrong?" Some kings may never have a chance to learn from their mistake, that is, to see what it is that caused the defeat and to never repeat this mistake, however none of us are kings, instead we are students, or people, with no kingdom to reign but our own lives. Our lives are not over. We can still learn.

Now to go to write a nice letter to Mark Hawkes in the space that everyone else writes and passes their final exams.

The salt on your tongue
A blue mixture of happy and sad
Wash it down
Wash it down
They're disposable
Those salty cubes
Tone deaf shots of
Fire realeases the pressure
Building up
Building up
Ready to explode
Explode
Expl...
Ode to the salt
The salt that explodes.

Old age hurts.
They call me useless
Slow, Stupid
But most never look
Past the age
To the person inside
And their eyes
Always dodging, always judging...

He's titled
"Christian", carer, but
He hurts most
With his judging eye.
He claims love
But hates, patience but
Yells at me
When I am my slowest.

Some would say
Old people aren't concerned
With people
Politics and the likes.
The truth is
I want nothing more
Than to be
One of the guys.

His judging eye
Evaluating, neandering,
Judging me.
His judging eye
Betraying beliefs:
His christianity

Once upon a time, so very long ago.... I came upon the conclusion that there must be more to life. My Knight in Shinning Armor had been gone for two years, and though I saw him enough to always remember his face, he wasn't there to rescue me anymore. There was soon to be the chance for a new night to come into my life, to protect me for the rest of forever, but he went off to slay dragons at the request of the Queen, and was never seen again (one assumes he was devourd by said dragons). I found out a long time ago that armour rusts and swords dull. The Knight you once trusted your whole life with means less to you than the stranger you pass on the street. Then I had hope, but now i realize that there are no knights left. Maybe it isnt as sad as it sounds, once becomes quite adept at slaying the dragons in her life when there is no one else to do it.

Have you any idea what a blessing it is to have no internet? This last 4 days I have been without, only to discover that I am free of the bondage of typing.

I can speak and have those around me understand, where those strapped to a keyboard must fret and delete to make the words right or comprehensible.

I have more free time. Not so much that I didn't have free time, but that suddenly all the free time that I did have is now usable.

It's too bad though that I have wasted all of this productive-possible time on silly things like sleeping and video games. I think it's time for semester to be over. Are there any in agreeance?

So now, I am off to practice for piano jury, that which I slept through Friday last. And also to finish/start 30 or so theory assignments that I have not found time to do.