January 29, 2005

Ok. As promised, now that I've got the scanner up and running, my New Year's Resolution. A few points to mention:

• It's not finished.
• My Frankenstein-ish combination of CSS and HTML tags causes different effects in different browsers. Don't be surprised if something weird happens.
• Expect updates on an irregular basis.
• If you're in and/or around Vancouver, and want to spend some quality time with yours truly in a very small space, well... ok.

January 28, 2005

Mmm. Got the scanner working:

The first image (of many, I reckon): "Busada" - meaning "to neglect to write". Painted for a friend to whom I haven't written in a while.

January 27, 2005

I had every intent of continuing that ramble yesterday, but I received a call from - you'll never guess who - my dentist's office. They want their money. Fair enough, I said, but you've got to realize that I've already paid my medical premiums and can't really afford to pay the same bill twice. Then they countered with the pointed observation that as my insurance agents weren't honouring the claim, the bill was my responsibility.

It never rains, but it pours. My debts are accruing at an alarming rate, my car is suddenly in need of repairs (again), and rent is due in four days. I am unhappy about all of this. I'm thinking about just putting it in the wind and going back to Japan - I won't make a fortune there, but at least I'll get left alone. The amount of garbage and duress I've had to put up with since the college went bankrupt is catching up with me - though not having smoked since Monday might have something to do with my present irritability. There are moments where I feel I'm a hair's breadth from lapsing into a towering rage, but then I catch myself, take a few deep breaths and try to relax. Having all this additional financial stress is just the icing on the cake, I guess.

Now's the time for all the English degree jokes - c'mon, I know you're all thinking it, anyway. At least I know what eleemosynary means. Surely that's got to count for something.

* * *

Here's a little ramble I posted somewhere else today, just 'cause I've got to cut this short and run some errands (read: "buy booze"):

It might just be that I am fortunate enough to have been raised in an environment where the importance of a handshake was adequately stressed, but it seems to me that there are far too many folks out there who just don't get it. I am ever dismayed upon receiving a 'Dead Fish' or 'Shaolin Knuckle Duster' greeting - ergo, Handshakes according to Jer; or, The Good, the Bad & the Ugly:

• The Good - It's so simple: grasp the proffered palm, make sure the web between your thumb and index finger touches the recipient's same web, clasp fingers firmly, shake and break. You can shake once or twice, but that's about it; hold longer than three seconds and I'll likely think you're about to ask me for a date; definitely make eye contact. Truly an exercise in simplicity - oh, and ladies, same goes. Personally, I hate getting the 'Princess Fingertips'. Shake my hand, I'll respect you all the more.
• The Bad - I'm sure everyone out there has been on the wrong end of a bone-crushing handshake. Now unless you are meeting the boyfriend of the girl you were just hitting on at the local dive, there really is no need for this kind of behaviour. Honestly, I'm not going to respect you for breaking my knuckles, I'm just going to think you're an ape (and I'm using my polite words here).
  
  Another no-go in my books is offering your hand palm-down. This went out of style back in the eighties, along with shoulder pads and 5 o'clock shadow, as far as I'm concerned. However, there are a couple of good disarmament techniques to remember for the next time you run into a lout. The first, and my personal favourite, is the 'Eyebrow defuse'. Very simple, yet surprisingly effective. Look at the outstrectched hand, then up to the person's face; once eye contact has been made, cock one eyebrow and wait. Nine times out of ten, you'll see the offending hand slowly rotate 90 degrees counterclockwise. The second, less subtle approach is to grasp the person's hand and turn it yourself - you should expect the Knuckle Grind, however. Last, but certainly not least, just plop your hand right on top of theirs and shake. This response is good for starting fights... trust me.
• The Ugly - You know what these are - handshakes executed so poorly that your first response is to stifle a shudder. Perhaps the worst of all is the aptly named 'Dead Fish'. I used to get this all the time from my students when I was teaching ESL, and it would immediately become the topic for my next lesson. If you're deliberately trying to put someone off or to sour a deal, this is a sure-fire way to do so: offer your hand in greeting, and... that's it. No grasping, no resistance, no response whatsoever. If you're really looking to unimpress, make sure your palms are clammy and/or sweaty before initiating contact.
  
  If you are unfortuante enough to get one of these, there is little you can do save grin and bear it. Make a mental note to have as few dealings with this individual as possible - but (but but but!) don't forget their name! This is absolutely crucial - you don't want to get another 'Dead Fish' introduction, do you? If you remember their name, the following scenario should transpire:

  YOU: (aside) Oh, no... it's that limp-wristed guy again. What was his name? Right! Joe.
  JOE: (extending glistening palm) Hey! Remember me?
  YOU: (shooting with double-barrel fingers) Joe, buddy! How ya doing?

  I tell you, if you're not comfortable with 'Gunslinger Fingers', you should become so. In the above situation, Joe won't even realize you're shunning physical contact - he'll likely just be happy you remembered his name. Now slip away when he's not looking, you still have to avoid the farewell formalities. I'll save that for a later posting: "The Artful Dodger, or, Duck and Cover: how to get away unscathed"... or something like that.

Yup. That's it. Off to the... shops. Yeah, that's it, "shops".

January 26, 2005

I think I'm better now - physically speaking, anyway. I haven't coughed up anything in about a day, and my throat no longer feels as if it is trying to turn itself inside out. Emotionally, well, that's a whole other kettle of fish. Just got back from putting my VISA bill onto my line of credit... it seems so silly to be paying off credit with credit, but that's the way it goes these days. I guess. Seems like only yesterday I was spouting off about having a $0 balance. Le plus ca change, n'est pas?

The other thing that's bugging me these days is the absolute lack of response I have had to all of the resumes and job applications I've sent out so far. Nary a one - not even an F.O.D. letter for my troubles. What is up with that? I don't think my applications can be all that bad, can they?

Ok, so I've maybe moved away from the accepted Microsoft Word format, but I really don't think the data conversion could be that affected. Take a look for yourselves. If you can find something wrong with that, then you're more astute than I am. Note that the formatting has been somewhat altered in the translation from .doc file to HTML. Obviously Open Office ain't a WYSIWYG editor. Maybe I should make one in Notepad.

January 22, 2005

11:30 AM

Coffee. That's about all I can handle right now.

High Noon

Breakfast.Three eggs cracked, three yolks broken. Goddamnit.

4:30 PM

Snack time. Vegetable bouillon, tofu, egg noodles. Like home-made ramen, only less pig.

6:00 PM

Experimenting with beef: green onion, ginger, salt & pepper. C'est tout. Learned this from a Sammo Hung movie.

January 19, 2005

Whew. I think I'm coming down with a fever: I've feen feeling loopy all day. I rolled out of bed this morning, stumbled into the kitchen and proceeded to pour unground beans into my coffee pot. It actually took me a couple of minutes to figure out what was wrong - I was even tempted to just turn it on and see what happened. Thankfully, my rationality software kicked in at that moment and I found myself looking in at the beans with my grinder in hand. Having successfully met and overcome the first challenge of the day, I set about preparing myself for the rest of the day.

A quick shower, simple breakfast, twenty minutes spent looking for my keys (which were right where I always keep them) and I was ready to face the day. I walked up to the local cafe where I've been studying Japanese only to discover I'd left my notebook at home. Sigh. So I pulled out my crossword puzzles and stared at puzzle #76 for about an hour. I got four words.

I've got to say, sitting in a busy cafe staring at an almost blank crossword isn't really a look worth going for. In fact, it makes you feel kind of dumb - even though most people wouldn't touch the NY Times crosswords with a ten-foot pole.

I packed up my things, slung my bag over my shoulder, reached for the door and pulled it open about six inches, straight into my right boot. Thanks be for steel toes. The resultant bang and rattle of the door caused everybody in the room to stop whatever they were doing and stare. I love that. I moved my foot, stepped outside, lifted a cigarette to my lips and with everyone's eyes still on me, lit the wrong end. So much for the swift recovery of poise and grace.

Safely back home, I've been half-heartedly looking at job sites, drinking tea and experiencing the occasional hot flash. It's been a lovely Wednesday. The constant rain outside (we're on day four now) and news reports of flooding and mudslides in North Vancouver aren't particularly uplifting, either. It's going to be a productive week, I can already tell.

* * *

On the computer intrusion front, I'm up to 416 blocked access attempts and 21 failed hijackings. I'm a little concerned that my firewall isn't catching everything that is trying to get in. I suppose that as long as all hijack attempts are stopped, I shouldn't really worry. I'd sure hate to wake up in the morning to find my computer zombified and sending spam all over the planet.

January 16, 2005

I've finally settled on a New Year's Resolution. Sort of. I have decided that this year, every time I see a photo booth, I'm going to use it. I know this decision comes two weeks late, but you know me: when it comes to the truly inconsequential, I like to think about it for a while. I'm sure there are those of you just itching to point out that this isn't much of a resolution at all, that it flies in the face of the implicit desire for self-improvement that should be part of any vow taken at the start of a new year.

Well, I'm sure most of you are already aware of how absurd I consider the whole 'New Year' thing to be - as I am equally sure you are already aware of my tendency to fly in the face of standards and the usual practices. However, I believe that with further consideration, you might come to agree that this ain't such a bad thing to resolve myself to after all. Not least when you note that I intend to share all of these photos with all of you.

In fact, the first of what I hope to be many such picture strips is sitting on the desk before me. It would already be scanned in and posted, save for the fact that when I opened the box containing my scanner, I found a mismatched power cord and a complete lack of anything even resembling software to make the damn thing work. Now I'm sure I can download the requisite drivers and software, but I'm not so sure about the power cable. We'll see; maybe I can improvise something.

* * *

Oh, yes. I'm posting this from home. After a terribly long wait, I am finally reconnected at home. The last couple of days have been a litany of clicking, but I think I'm getting it out of my system. I was actually kind of dismayed that quite a few sites I used to frequent on a regular basis either haven't changed all that much, or have become... well, boring. The feeling reminds me of visits back to university while I was living in Japan - I knew time had gone by and that I had changed, but everything was eerily the same as it was when I left. Some of the people I met two or three years down the road were even wearing the same clothes, I swear.

A second interesting phenomenon I have noticed since getting back online is the sheer number of folks trying to access my computer for various reasons. Thankfully, a friend suggested I install a firewall as soon as possible to prevent intrusion. Not having enough sawbacks to spare for a new bit of hardware, I downloaded a freeware firewall and have since installation (a mere 3 days ago) already repelled 102 intrusion attempts and 5 hijack attempts. Nobody told me there was a war on.

What I'd like to know is what exactly these people hope to find on my lil' ol' machine. Then again, the pirate in me understands. Who knows what you might find in the hold of yon vessel? Best to just take it and have a little look-see, know what I mean? This understanding of course also guarantees my keeping all important information safely stored within the confines of my cranium - or on floppy for those things too lengthy for me to remember all by my lonesome.

Hmm. It seems I have an intrusion update for you. We're now up to 175 intrusion attempts and 7 hijack attempts. There are some busy little bees out there for the wee hours of a Sunday morning. Might not be such a bad idea to invest in an external firewall, after all.

January 12, 2005

I think I might have been born without the ability to dream.

I suspect my cells were formed with a single strand of DNA, bent back upon itself to create the illusion of a whole entity. Alanine meets thyamine meets guanine meets cytosine with just a touch of uracil for seasoning... yet somehow the dish remains consistently bland and uninspired. Having already debunked the myths of success and ambition (as generally understood these days), I find myself unable to turn them to my advantage.

Or maybe this is just what happens to one after four months of unemployment. I don't know. Tonight I am struggling with all the ideals that are force-fed to me through the media, despite the fact that I see them for what they are: simple and illusory. I don't need Oprah to give me a car to make me happy, I don't need a six-figure salary to validate my existence upon this earth. Yet this is the scorecard by which I am judged, and I find myself sorely lacking. This is particularly galling to an individual that doesn't like to fail; but still my mind refuses to let me into the game.

I've been trying to settle on five things that I would like to accomplish: I cannot. It seems so simple an exercise to put into words five little goals to achieve; instead I find myself lost in a morass of possibility. I feel that I have been blessed with all of the ability, yet none of the ambition. Perhaps that is the problem - the insolent insoluble conundrum I face - I know I can succeed at any task I set my hand to, save one: this singular moment in time. This the moment that is my life.

Or am I just kidding myself? Have I let years of people telling me how clever and capable I am cloud my vision? It is entirely possible that I am but a fool - in this world where normality is so highly valued, yet individuality is prized above all else, am I the only one laughing at the absurdity of it all? Everyone is a 'unique, special snowflake' but still obsessed with 'fitting in' and 'being normal' (i.e.: just like everybody else). It seems to me the concepts of normality and individuality are mutually exclusive. It seems to me that to be normal, one is expected to sacrifice that which makes them an individual. The ante for this game is your self; and as far as I am concerned, the stakes are just too damn high.

I don't know. Take this twenty-minute snapshot of my mind for what it is worth: nothing.

January 10, 2005

Whoops. I took what I thought was going to be a short smoke break there, and ended up dozing off in my armchair. One of the many hazards of trying to write something at two o'clock in the morning when you don't have any coffee to fuel your literary fires. Doubly dangerous is deciding to have a glass or two of rum en lieu of the coffee that you thought you were going to have. Then again, it's also kind of fun to emulate Hemingway in his non-creative aspect every once in a while.

So. It's a sunny afternoon, the streets outside are approaching a state of dryness, so it looks like I'll be able to take Kyoko-chan (my van, not a girl - I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea) up the mountain to get some snowboarding in.

* * *

Home again, safe & sound with a hot toddy in my hand. I've never had one before; I think I might become a fan. The Joy of Cooking comes through once again. I don't know how many of you out there have a copy readily available, but if you ever get the chance, check out the 'Drinks' section. Some of the recipes are sheer ridiculousness - not only are measurements given in ponys (1 oz.) and jiggers (1.5 oz), but most mixes call for five or six jiggers per drink. Yikes. I've got to say, it makes me feel better about my drinking habits. Folks from this era attending dinner parties must've been plowed before the appetizers even hit the table.

In other news, I've been reading Will Ferguson's Why I Hate Canadians and have been enjoying it immensely. Recommended reading for all Canadians and for anyone who knows a Canadian and can't figure them out. A particularly memorable exerpt follows - it's a transcription of an actual psychological test given to an anonymous Canadian (but we'll call him J. Canuck) at the height of the Cold War:

Analyst: I would like you to relax and say the first thing that comes to your mind. Are you aware of the term Intercontinental Ballistic Missile?
J. Canuck: Yes, I am.
Analyst: And what do you think of when your hear the word ICBM?
J. Canuck: Ice hockey.
Analyst: Hmmmmm. How about "limited nuclear strike"?
J. Canuck: Roughing.
Analyst: The Cuban Missile Crisis?
J. Canuck: Too many men on the ice.
Analyst: Thermonuclear Armageddon?
J. Canuck: Sudden death overtime.
Analyst: I see. Now then, tell me about your mother-
J. Canuck: Gordie Howe.

I'm not making this up. I wish I could, but I'm just not that funny. I'd like to know who this individual really was, just so I could shake their hand. Not because their talk of hockey epitomizes the 'Canadian psyche', but because they were obviously fucking with the analyst. That's what Canada is truly about - we'll mess with anybody and do it in such a manner that the messee likely won't even realize. Everyone thinks we're such a swell bunch of nice folks, but really, we're flipping the world the bird every chance we get. Go on, corner a Canadian and ask them. Heck, I'll probably lose my citizenship for letting the cat out of the bag.

January 9, 2005

Sometimes the world just gets in the way. I had every intention of updating this bad boy a little sooner, but I thought I'd have an internet connection of my very own by now. Suffice to say, I don't. I should be fully connected by this coming Wednesday, but for the moment it will have to be the same old scenario of me updating whenever my sister's computer becomes available.

I've been putting off working on my website the past few days, as I was anticipating having the cable company in on Friday to install a cable TV/Internet package, but it turns out that the full media buffet is not an option in my apartment. It would seem that the wiring in my building (one of a mere twelve in the lower mainland) is of an archaic nature and will not permit bundling between television and the internet.

Believe me, I was as dismayed as you are now. However, I have found alternate service and should be connected as of Wednesday the twelfth - assuming that the ADSL modem being mailed to me is not delayed by the fifteen centimetres of snow that has shut down the city in its entirety. It's actually rather comedic; I saw a car lose control and drive through a roundabout backwards the other day. I tell you, people in this city have no idea when it comes to snowfall. Less than an inch, and the city issues a major snowfall warning. I suppose I only really find it amusing because I hail from Ontario, a region that sees far more snow in - oh, let's say October - than we do all winter long. Quite entertaining, let me assure you.

But let's leave all meterological discourse aside for the moment. Nobody really cares about the weather in places they're not anyway.

The new year finds me in pretty much the same place the old year left me - unemployed, yet not overly concerned. I have been entertaining thoughts of going back to school, a mere three years after the fiasco with the UBC Japanese language and literature department. Problem is, I still can't decide exactly what it is that I want to study. There are so many options and exciting-sounding careers that I just can't pick one. Then again, I usually can't settle on what particular beverage I want to buy at the corner store, so this is pretty much par for the course. Excessive choice, it's a bitch.