the clean-slate approach

alternate title: the self-centred Ontarian

"Let this bless'd assurance control:
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And has shed His own blood for my soul."

something different

14h30, Monday the 25th Leave the Friesen's house, Smith Parish, Bermuda
15h45 Leave Bermuda aeroport for Boston, MA
16h55 Arrive in Boston Logan aeroport
19h00 Scheduled time of departure for Boston to Buffalo, NY flight
(20h36 Scheduled landing time
21h00 Scheduled Greyhound Canada service to Toronto from Buffalo bus terminal
00h00 Scheduled Arrival in Toronto Bay Street Bus Terminal
00h30 Estimated time of reaching mother's house)
20h40 Actual time of departure from Boston
22h10 Arrive in Buffalo Niagara International Airport
23h40 Take Route #24 Genesse from BNIA to bus terminal
03h15, Tuesday the 26th Greyhound Canada service to Toronto through Niagara Falls from Buffalo bus terminal
03h32 Approach Canada-USA border
03h50 Immigrate successfully back to our home and native land
05h55 Arrival in Bay Street bus terminal
06h30 Arrive at mother's house in Bloor West Villiage
07h00 Recieve call re: trip to Wonderland
09h30 Estimated time of pick-up
11h30 Actual time of pick up
12h30 Arrive at Paramount Canada's Wonderland
21h15 Leave Paramount Canada's Wonderland
22h45 Arrive home
01h08, Wednesday 27th June Finish blog entry

(the REAL 300th post)

This is the first day I seriously considered pursuing a Master's degree in Music. I feel that it's probably somewhat related to bumping into a cute guy who's a friend of a friend (who's doing her masters) who had assumed I was doing my Masters in music, as I stood there photocopying some piano and blank manuscript sheets in the libs. I had never thought of it that way.

I hate freezer burn so bad

This is the day I recognized that my identity must be "rooted in Christ" because I have no idea who I am right now.

Don't tell David Caruso but I'm pretty sure I'm in the middle of a love affair with plums. Wow, who knew that something so cheap, so easily procured, so simple and so healthy could be so good?

Arithmatic is so air-tight in its logic that it must be either absolute verity and independent of man OR it is completely random and what unsettles and titilates me most about this revelation is that I side with the second theory.

If someone could write a close reading (or a treatise is what it'd likely end up being) on "integrity" in the context of the English language in Western society I'd buy the first copy printed and read voraciously until my eyes bled.

and in my carnal moments...

I was sitting on the bus talking on my tepehelone while my eyes dragged along the sidewalk opposite where we drove.
I was enjoying the conversation and not quite seeing much around me (I tend to blank-out in the ocular way when I'm listening properly.. it's something like day-dreaming). We stopped at a light and I saw a dude leaning against something out front of the gas station he worked at. He definitely wasn't wearing a shirt and I was definitely impressed. I was going to say something to the friend on the teleph but she was in the middle of something so I kept listening while I formulated some kind of opinion/analysis of the dude across from me.
What I didn't realize was that, well, he realized I was looking at him. I thought I was far enough (30 feet?) away, and separated by a pane of glass that might REFLECT some sunlight. And if those failed me I didn't quite think he could see my facial expression which would - despite my intentions - tell what I was thinking.
As it trns out, he saw... he knew... even I didn't know... he waved and blew a kiss at me.
Half a second later I came back to reality and looked around me slightly to see who else he could possibly be communicating with. And... it was still me. And he was mocking me. So I felt like a doofus but this definitely made my day. aha

I finished a book today. I'm happy about that. I've been alive for a long time. It bothers me that the overused, watered-down words of my culture have crept back into my vocabulary, despite what I thought were rigorous boycotts of the past year or two. Poop. I'm going to go on strike again. I don't remember the last time I finished a book, including the ones for school. ... Well, I finished the Book of Acts, Ephesians, Galatians and Colossians oh and Genesis this year but I don't quite count those "books" as books. I mean they're books in an anthology but reading the Bible is not about reading. Not most days, anyways.
Ever wanna smack a friend for being childish... while they're accusing another friend of the same? Weird sitch. I do like God, I do. But I wonder sometimes how I can be so far apart from myself in some moments/6-week periods.
I was watching Dr Phil today and his wife, Robin, was talking to a woman about her marriage, a lil' heart-to-heart of the woman-y kind. [I'm fascinated by how readily we - the general WE - accept each other's neologisms without batting an eyelid. I can't tell you how much this titillates me. Hahaha... I should write a thesis.] Anyways, Mrs. McGraw tells this other woman that we all have a personal truth (and at this point I'm of course thinkinga bout how I know she and the husband are Jesus lovers and "personal Truth" could be spun into something Biblical for themselves while it means whatever else to the woman she was talking to. [<--This is where a professor would write "awk" in the margins of my paper.]) She said that the personal truth was what defined how you saw yourself. I think her words were slightly different but that's the gist. Um...I got to thinking (I had flashback of all the major identity in Christ conversations I've had in the past two years) that my personal Truth, my personal Savior, my Life, Truth and Way is (or in this case SHOULD BE) the what/who defines how I see myself. Wow... without.... without someone like Him, I am a sorry sight. (Oh - I'd be a sorry site, too. Not a cite, though. I wish. Well maybe...) How devastating it is to forget who we are. Or, as many pastors like to point out, whose we are. I belong
It struck me the other day, as I was reading some early Old Testament, and writing something down about it, that I was talking TO the author of the book I was reading. I mean I tend to fluxuate between referring to God in the second or third person and I usually don't think much of it because it's appropriate, strangely enough. It's like... it's like He's hanging on my every word ANY ways so it doesn't matter whether I turn and make eye-contact or gaze at the page or stare into the fireplace. Some days, I refer to Him ONLY in the third person and that is usually a symptom of a distance betwixt us that I should address and let Him shrink. But this day, hangin out in chapters 4, 5, 6 of Exodus (what a delicious book!), I knew what I wanted to write but a took a moment to decide whether I would say "Him" or "You" and when I decided on the latter I had a mini-revelation moment that said, HECK yes, I have GOT connections. I mean.. it's a little ridiculous. I don't see God for all of what He is for many reasons, one that my eyes aren't big enough, two, that my mind isn't big enough, three, that my imagination isn't big enough, perhaps four is my small trust of Him, five is my selflessness... there's more... I can't see all of Him because He IS that great.. but also because I get distracted. From time to time, any Bible-believeing "little Jesus" will say, "Can you imagine? The God of the Universe -- inside me!" or, "-hears me!" or whatever it is. Most of the time I internally scoff at these people: CHEESE! It's easy to say, seriously. But I had my own moment like that once a while back.. 2004? and since then I've realized, OK, we all get it sometimes. I bet that if you say it all the time you're a LIAR but whatever. That's..... something else. (I could have used "neither here nor there" to finish that sentence! but I didn'st! boo) I mean.. it's cool. I was reading about the God who heard the cries of the Israelites ..whose anger burned against Moses for questioning God's judgement... I get to talk to Him like an old friend. I guess... I'm... honored (?). Can I be that?



Martin, Steve. The Pleasure of My Company: a novella. New York: 40 Share Productions, Inc., 2003.
PS 3563 .A7293P57.2003 PORTER

Q. What happens when you have too much cake batter for the size of your pan?

A.

300th post! It's not special but it's here!

I have recently decided that CSI: Miami is a good show. Or rather that I enjoy it. (If CSI-the-regular didn't have such an annoying lead character I'd like it more. As for CSI: New York, I haven't seen it more than twice or thrice but I do like Gary Sinese and the fact that the other actors have such ridiculously strong New York accents.)
I've actually watched more of CSI or other crimey investigationy thingers than I really think about but it's true. I used to hang out with people who loved the show and one thing I would have picked up then and am reminded of at least once every episode these days is that these people seem so callous. I mean.. I understand maintaining a professional distance and all (like lawyers, doctors, psychiatrists etc. do/must do) but sometimes these people just seem mean. They make jokes, right at the scene of a crime (mostly dumb puns...) and I have to think, "Why you aint can't be more sensitive??" And then there was this moment, remarkable because it was triggered by nothing, where I realized that these people wouldn't be doing this job if they didn't care about people. I mean if it wasn't important to you that some semblance of justice and closure would be achieved then you wouldn't be in this line of work. ... It would hardly exist.

[Editor's note: 300 (-5) 27/11/07:)]

well now I'm excited for serious

OK so I couldn't figure out how to take a photograph that wouldn't be blurry.
I'm really excited to see Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. So, when the stupid Visa people refused to play nice to me after too many tries I decided I would go to the actual theatre to purchase the tickets. This was yesterday. I could have waited until today when the buses would be running but I didn't. I mean, I needed to get out of the house and I was extremely paranoid about this show being sold out. For many months I have been declaring, mostly to myself but needing witnesses that I was going to be first in line for the third Carrots movie just because. I don't think I've ever seen a film on its release date and I was very excited about this one. I love it when audiences respond to the drama (that's real theatre, man!). So... I walked and bought the tickets. It was mostly fun. I should have chosen different shoes. I really enjoyed that frozen-fruity-stuff-on-a-stick thing (made by Breyers) that I bought on the way back and I was blessed to have been right with God that day.
I won't be first in line but I will be watching the first available show.... and I'm happy.

well, I'm pretty excited...

My cousin Tori (born Victoria), second daughter of my grandparents fourth son, is turning eighteen tomorrow. (OK now think about why tomorrow is special if you live in Canada... think of the long weekend and fireworks... think about it...)

the fun day I had

Hanging out with the housemates, of present and past, brought me very happy times today.

Highlight #1: This guy.

He was part of a creepy, tacky wall hanging that had three people walking down the beach. It was made of several different kinds of fabric and such. I like to describe it as what would happen if Value Villiage threw up. This guy had pants with a working zipper which on a very micro level is cool.

As you may or may not have already discerned we had a good many laughs about this, of course making raunchy/scary jokes in between.

Highlight #2: the crystal chior.

The more entertaining portion of the evening (how on earth could it get better, eh?) for me was when I discovered how easy it was to elicit sound from crystal glasses. My friend hit one of the glasses on another somehow while taking it out of the dishrack and the base snapped off, crashing and exploding on the floor. As we were cleaning and la-la-la, my friends reached the consensus that it was crystal, simply because of the way it shattered. (I'd have never known this.... I was impressed.) I said, "If it's crystal then it'll make a sound," or something similarly, out-of-my-way/blurty like that. It worked. OHHHhh did it work. Man, they had twelve glasses and after about 10 minutes of trial and error with water-level adjustments, I had set up a major scale with an extra flat-seven added afterward because I figured the simplest song to play first would be "Happy Birthday".

Man, it made my life so happy to be able to run my fingers around a [perfect] circle and hear such a pure, penetrating pitch. (Do you know how deliciously clear these things sound? Wow.. I've seen bits&snippits of people who play like entire chiors of these things; intricate songs. I don't have the means - and probably not the dedication to do that - but I just loved it. I just loved it.) If I hadn't felt like I was being annoying (my friends' interest died after about 20 minutes but that's cool) and if it were possible to play without holding the base down (enabling polyphony) then I would have gone on forever. Somehow - you know, despite those two reasons - I managed to stop. I'm surprized. GLorious day.

Romans 4:12

"And he [Abraham] is also the father of the circumcised who not only are circumcised but who also walk in the footsteps of the faith that our father Abraham had before he was circumcised."

With its context (4:1-11 is good but starting at 3:21 or 3:9 helps) this is what makes me understand the Catholic-Christian. I mean, this is where God permits religiousness. This is how you can be devoted (devout?) to (in?) ritual and traditional ways but still indeed be the on-fire, deeply-in-love-with-Christ follower at the same time. They're compatible -- who knew?

I'm not TRYING to be a hypocrite

I'm not saying that racial jokes aren't funny. Nor am I saying that I have not made my fair share of them. I will say that some do cross the line (as any brand of joke can). I'm not trying to be hypersensitive or inconsistent or a stick-in-the-mud or an activist.

All I'm saying is that the reason I have grown a decent-sized hatred for these kind of comments is that I seem to be the only one who gets the brunt of them. What's up with that? I just want you to walk a mile in my shoes.

If you could understand how many of my friends make fun of me (and only me) for being black you might understand why I don't like this kind of ribbing. If I were to make a racial joke, most of the time it would be about black people so... why can't you joke about your own kind? Why can't I tell you how belittled and angry I feel when this happens without being scoffed at and called a hypocrite? I'm not trying to be a hypocrite! I'm not. Just walk a mile.. imagine how every snide remark, even when you're being serious, has to do with your race.... What do you see me as? An easy target? Just think about it and go hang out in a place where you're the visible minority.

things that piss me off (3)

#4 The idea that prison violence is OK.

They're convicted felons - they deserve it!
It's better that they do it to eachother than to innocent people on the ouside.

Tell me something: what's the difference between vaginally raping a woman you stalk on her way home and sodomizing your cellmate? Since when do we determine crime by who the victim is? Isn't it entirely hypocritical to put someone in prison for some illegal/immoral activity but to turn a blind eye when they endure the same? Don't feed me the taste-of-their-own-medicine line. No, I don't think they "should know what it's like." Now you're saying that crime depends on context. It's bad when someone "innocent" and "defenseless" is being attacked but if it's someone who has knocked over a liquor store then they can probably handle some minor (or major, whatever) anal tearing. Who is "innocent" anyways?

I don't think it makes sense to use a criminal offense as a punishment for criminals. If the criminality of an act changes based on context then that totally undermines the idea of a moral standard that our justice system should be founded on. [Incase you were thinking it, killing is different from murder.] If x is wrong - and we must be dealing with moral absolutes for the law to work, right? - then x is always wrong, unconditionally.

Let's not even talk about the killings and beatings.

Thespians! I ask,

Are we acting like our subject or acting like other actors have in the past?

Some of the more difficult roles, I think, must be recycled and, in a dictionary-definition sense, symbolic. "Difficult" and... obscure. With nothing to draw from personally, it makes sense somehow to draw from what you've seen others do. Sure, you don't get those draws and sure you can probably pull it off but at the end of the day, you're making a photocopy of a photocopy and you can take that analogy to the bank.