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My latest favorite video, from Mylo. In it, North Koreans spy on Bush using a remote-controlled fly. Watch Bush review plans to invade Iran and Europe, watch cartoons, masturbate to porn, and have sex with prostitutes.
My latest favorite video, from Mylo. In it, North Koreans spy on Bush using a remote-controlled fly. Watch Bush review plans to invade Iran and Europe, watch cartoons, masturbate to porn, and have sex with prostitutes.
Being a terrible finisher of books means that I am always looking for new books, buying new books, starting books but never reading them until the end. This is quite the opposite from the way I have to be at work, where my job is often about closing, which, in the end is what matters.
So this week, I have finished Bringing Down the House, which had all the elements required to keep me interested throughout; duffel bags full of money, pulling a fast one on the system, and the dream of never having to work again. These fantasies occupied my mind when I was in my twenties, when I should have been thinking about what I was going to do with my life, instead of dreaming of how to do nothing with my life.
That's another story though.
It's not the toughest book to read, and it does have a beach book element to it, but reading about how some geeky kids from MIT created a perfect system for winning at blackjack is inspring in some way, a way that makes me think there are other systems out there waiting to be exploited.
Ah, now back to my salad-days, dreaming of putting my feet up for the rest of my life, having figured it all out.
Since moving to Dublin, I have nursed myself out of my addiction to news. Perhaps because I am so much busier in this new job, but I think a big part of it is that as an outsider, I don't really get involved in the local issues. I also don't keep up with what is happening in Canada, which, once you leave Canada, becomes suddenly boring and tiresome.
Take, for example, the latest media sensation. A trio of drunken youths piss on a war monument in Ottawa on the nation's birthday, inflaming passions across the country. Conservatives and war veterans want them publicly flogged, and blame 13 years of Liberal rule for the moral lassitude of Canadian youth and general disrespect towards our war dead. Parallels are drawn between the Liberal government's failure to invest in the military and this act of drunken foolishness.
It seems that for the first time, Canadian conservatives are organized and expressing their long-repressed feelings, and I am glad I am not around to hear them.
At the Gym
A man blow drying his back.
At Work
"I don't look at the mantlepiece while I'm stoking the fire."
During the film Hustle and Flow, both of the main characters face their own of a mid-life crisis. Djay is questioning the long term prospects of being a pimp in his late thirties. Key is realising that being a court stenographer and having sex with his wife once a month is significantly less than he had dreamed for his life.
Besides being an excellent film, this was a splash of cold water in my face. Having just turned 35 myself, I empathized with Key, sitting in Djay's car, smoking weed and commiserating with Djay that all he is doing is "paying rent."
Which brings me to my point. A year ago, I woke up one morning, made coffee and began my bike commute to work. As I pedaled up the hill right outside my house, i noticed that the day was starting exactly like yesterday, and that the day would probably be just like yesterday and not too different from tomorrow. I realized that i was doing this job solely to pay a mortgage on a house I neither liked or cared about. The job had become stale, i had become stagnant, and i seemed miles away from ever realizing my dream of living and working in Europe.
But on the surface I seemed to have what most people wanted. I owned a home in Vancouver (read: I have a huge mortgage), cycled to work, and generally did not need to push myself too hard. I was stuck in a rut.
So rather than read some inspiring bullshit in a self-help book or numb my pain with weed and whiskey, I removed myself and my family from the situation. Less than 6 months after that sunny Vancouver morning in July, we arrived here in Dublin.
"Everybody gotta have a dream."
I have been watching this video a lot this weekend, in between reading the paper and watching the World Cup. Go Holland!
So far, I have failed to do any of the work that I aspired to this weekend.
The ever-growing list of books I have started yet never read
(now there is a term that requires a German word for it) is now larger than
ever. I feel drawn to get more books even though I have at lease a dozen
sitting around half finished. To make matters worse, I have reverted to my
habit of re-reading Barney’s Version and Solomon Gursky Was Here, if only for
the passages about Montreal and the Eastern Townships.
Among the books laying about the house and my office that I have yet to finish:
Yes, there some self-help books on this list. I have read many, I still have many and many more have been thrown out with glee by Anya. I have a weakness for them, I will admit, which I think stems from my propensity to plan rather than to do.
Although it seems like only 5 weeks, we have now been in Ireland for over 5 months. It feels now as if the novelty of a new city has worn off completely, and I am hit more frequently with longing for Vancouver. It’s probably high summer there right now, where the living is easy. I could be riding my bike to work in 25 minutes, strolling casually through Yaletown at lunch and playing hockey on the weekends. I’d also be bored out of my mind, and have to settle for a week-long holiday in the Okanagan or the Island instead of 3 weeks in the south of France. ( Did I mention that I get 38 days of paid leave in this country? I was pretty much ordered by my boss to take a 3-week holiday in August). I would also have to endure the constant chatter about real estate prices.
However, the more I hear about the office in Vancouver, the happier I am with my decision to move. At 150 people and counting, the sales department there is just too big. I could not keep track of all the new people, the new permutations of the sales role and the constant reshuffling of the chairs.
I am now used to the traffic and the poor customer service, although the poor customer service in the retail sector allows you to stroll unfettered in a shop without ever being asked “can I help you?” You can feel free to wander around forever, safe in the knowledge that no one is going to ask you to buy anything.
Anya discovered today that Irvine Welsh is living just minutes away from us in Rathmines. He's opened a new theatre down in Dundrum (my favorite shopping mall/cinema googleplex). I don't normally praise malls as I am more of an urban than suburban person, but the Luas line makes it so easy to go down to Dundrum for all my consumer and entertainment needs. Well, really it's just for the movie theatres, as I can't bring myself go to a bar that is attached to a mall.
Irvine Welsh was a huge influence on me in during my 20s. I read all his books and I tried to imitate his writing style. However, one must always master the craft before expressing one's individual style through the craft. This I have failed to do, and so today there is no Canadian answer to Irvine Welsh.
As someone who considers themselves to have a high degree of self-awareness, I have realized that I am not a good referential blogger. I simply don't have the time to search the web for the few friends that actually read this thing and post links to interesting new articles or ideas upon which I have extrapolated. People like Jason Kottke are very good at that. What I do is merely therapy for myself and to check off one of the boxes in my Full Engagement Accountability Matrix.
While we were sitting in the parking lot at Powerscourt Gardens, I called my sister Christina, who told me she is getting married. I am so happy and excited for her and Josh. This means we have an excuse to go to Montreal again, and hopefully in October or November, before it gets too cold for words.
Christina deserves all the happiness coming to her after surviving 3 asshole brothers for 15 years.
We were visiting Powerscourt as part of our trip through Wicklow. We hit the Avoca mill first, arriving in the cafe just before a bus of German tourists. Avoca is one of the few cafe/restaurant chains that serves healthy and tasty grub at a reasonable price. They also have two fantastic cookbooks.
We spent the afternoon driving around the narrow winding roads of Wicklow. With such narrow roads I can almost believe why so many people die in car accidents in Ireland. Another 8 people died on the roads this weekend, bringing the total this year to 128, and it's only April.
