1. 2 months ago 

    So much I

    Emotion is an amazing concept, whether it be positive or negative. Slashing through the neutrality that is our daily life, emotion brings something different. It takes us outside the boundaries of our comfort zone often times, forcing us to feel something that we normally would not.

    The normality of routine is mundane, suffocating even. Emotion gives us something to look forward to, or to dread. Whether something brings a sense of ecstasy or suffering, it trumps the feeling of nothing. If not for emotion, and all its highs and lows, what then would be the sensation of falling in love, or succumbing to a sense of hate or intense dislike? Just another number in the algorithm of what we call life.

    Fuck that. Feel something. Drop the veil of apathy and let emotion slide over you, whether for better or worse. 

    Because when it’s good, it’s good. And when it’s bad, it’s still better than walking through life a monotonous zombie. I’d rather hurt than feel nothing.

    Tell me, what in the world beats the feeling of finding something that makes you feel good, in the holistic sense of the word? Take it and run with it. Don’t think, just feel. Find that feeling in another person and celebrate it by kindling it, sparking it, unashamed.

    Fuck the fear. I always had a repulsive need to be something more than human. Find the other that allows that, and embrace them.

    She shows the world up with a smile. 

  2. Notes: 4 / 3 months ago 

    Taste

    There is illusion, and there is reality. When you’re young, say, you know, 21 years old, being 40 or 50 is as abstract as science fiction.

    And you’re sitting there and you’re invincible, it’s all ahead of you. You are a horse with blinders, and you only see ahead as you whip yourself into a frenzy of forward.

    At some point, something turns those blinders inward. A stumble here, a failed relationship there. A change.

    You creep past age 30, and patterns emerge. Comforting, killing, at the same time. Experience and wisdom get blown away by tragedy, or the inexplicable. The hand of fate, taps on the shoulder of those around you.

    Pray that you are immune.

    Your 30’s fade, you’re in your ‘prime’, the definition of being a man. Worker, careerist, actor in your own movie. Creator, lover, breadwinner. You conquer and you forge on. A string of victories that will never end.

    And then you hit it.

    But at first, you don’t know what it is. It could be the death of a parent or the end of a marriage, the birth of a flawed child.

    Then your 40’s arrive, and you feel a sense of lightness and freedom. But it’s work. It’s work my friend, it’s hard work. Like the marriage and the job and the friendships and the kid and the health issues and the nostalgia that suffocates you. When your old song comes on. When the picture falls out of the photo album. When the scent of something takes you back. When it wasn’t so hard. When all the self-help books in the world cannot possibly save you.

    And you hate it. When you admit that someone else’s life is better than yours.

    But yours is good. Is it good? Is my life good? Is my life good?

    How would you know? Because you’re climbing. And you climb, and you’re scared, and you go higher and higher. And you’re a bit wiser, a bit happier, fatter, richer.

    Lonelier, depraved, stubborn, loaded. Still poor.

    And you see it. The number 50. The end is in view. You are formally, officially, absolutely, admittedly, closer to the end. You panic, dragged down by the feeling that you have not fulfilled the promise others predicted for you. That you promised and prayed for. You have no idea, but you know things will change.

    I promise.

    Just another promise broken. Lyrics to your song. All of them, real.

    I melt with you.




  3. 3 months ago 

    Anonymous asked: Brevity is your friend! Avoid contractions at all times! Follow these rules and your writing will improve tenfold. Also makes for a easier read. Google "Orwell's rules to writing."

    Thanks for the input.

  4. Notes: 1 / 3 months ago 

    A toast

    We made it, finally.

    The last 2 weeks have been pure hell for most of us students, and I’m sure alot of you can empathize or relate. But that’s it, it’s done. This coming Monday is Family Day, followed by a four day break for reading week. A well-deserved break, in my opinion.

    So what should we do with a week off? Depends who you ask, really. We could party all week, with little concern for anything else. It’s the one week our schedule allows us. We could also take the time to relax and recuperate. If you guys are anything like me, I get sick every exam period, without fail. At the very minimum, an annoying cold. At the very worst, the flu or something similar. Immunities just shut down with the stress of academic assessment.

    I’m going to try and make the most of my 5 days off. We’re partying hard Sunday night, heading to see Benny Benassi at the Guvernment. It’s gonna be an insane night, to say the least. As a bonus, we’re going with a bunch of friends from back home.

    After that I think the plan is to head to the girlfriend’s parent’s house for a day, hang out and have dinner. Then I’m sure I’ll head home to my family’s place for a few days. Unwind and relax while enjoying mommadukes’ cooking. Why not?

    However you plan on spending your reading week, make it count. Get way too drunk, take time to relax, and catch up with the friends and family you’ve missed over the last few months. Enjoy yourself, you earned it.

    Be excellent.

  5. Notes: 1 / 3 months ago 

    Reality Check

    This advertisement is catching serious flack for their alleged ‘slut-shaming’ in the image.   Really?

    This woman looks calm, relaxed, and comfortable. She appears in control, feeling fine about her 20 partners. Why is it slut-shaming?

    The ad itself isn’t implying that lying naked on a bed makes you a dirty whore. Nor is it implying that sleeping with 20 folks is something to be ashamed of. If the ad campaign was based around a bunch of guys talking about their sexual experience with the same girl, then yeah, that has the potential to hold a shitty, unfair position of women and sex. The difference between that and this ad is that the woman is owning this information about herself and her past. 

    She offers it up for the safety of herself and what we assume is a faceless new partner behind the camera. It’s her information, her choice, her power, and her smile as she offers it up like the unashamed modern sexual beast she is. Cue the fucking applause.

    The ad isn’t judging the woman based on that number, in fact, it’s not offering any additional information. It’s only a neutral conduit for conveying information that happens to draw on another currently relevant cultural staple: Facebook. In other words, they’re just being cute. So relax.

    It’s unfair to assume that the ad is suggesting that a public listing of your bedpost roster is necessary for safe sexual health. That’s not the case. All it seems to imply is that you should simply be real about sexuality in this modern age - you’re probably not Christopher Columbus landing upon virgin banks. I see zero indication that this is a fact worthy of judgment, nor do I see some bogus implication that number of sex partners = increased HIV risk. All they are saying is don’t be an idiot. You never know because you have no control over someone else or where they’ve been, or whom they’ve been with. So wrap your junk up, get tested, fall in love, and be happy. Or don’t fall in love, and then go be safe with someone else, have fun, live your life, don’t get AIDS. You get the idea.

    We should have a much bigger problem with people’s fired-up response to ads like this. We as a society say we want honest campaigns that promote education, sexual health and the candid addressing of relevant social issues, but the instant one of these campaigns attempts a blunt approach (which, in our over-stimulated information age seems to be the only effective way to reach people) our delicate sensibilities tell us to be offended. We’re way too quick to cry slut-shaming, racism, sexism, and fattism in advertising, even when there are clearly the best of intentions at play. We need to calm down and be as careful in our attacks as we ask them to be in theirs. These hurtful forms of judgment do exist and they do plenty of damage to people. Women (and men, to be fair) get hated on for their sexual behaviour - especially if they are open about it. And the more honestly and brazenly they address it, the more harshly they are criticized. By now, we all know that’s wrong, do we not? Let’s not punish a public health ad for communicating its message with the same clarity and gusto that we encourage in each other personally.

    HIV is completely real, it’s scary as hell. It exists. But so do beautiful, sexual, in-control, well-lit vixens who wear well-fitting lingerie and have sex with multiple partners. And when both of you are celebrating this fact with multiple orgasms, just be safe.

    Oh, and about the somewhat-naked woman on the poster. Good Lord, people, let’s not freak out. The line-drawing we do immediately between nudity and exploitation (or indecency) is demonstrative of the hang-ups of you, the viewer, not the advertisers. Your brain had a negative connotation for this ad, not the bloody art director. This woman’s attitude is so clearly empowered and light-hearted that it’s absurd to consider it offensive to women. She’s chilling in her underwear, 20 guys have been inside her, and she’s like ‘Fuck it, whatever, I’m awesome.’ Where’s the slut shame? Lighten up.

    Become familiar with the concept of respecting a woman’s sexuality, people.

    Be excellent. 

  6. Notes: 5 / 4 months ago 

    Machine

    This week I was lucky enough to have been invited to act in a short film, done by none other than Nicholas Grguric, whom I’ve posted about earlier. The film was created for his application to Ryerson University’s film program. 

    Nicholas had originally created a different short film for the application, but being the perfectionist that he is, he decided it wasn’t good enough. He scrapped the project and began working on a new one, this time involving a boxer. 

    I was asked to play the trainer of the protagonist (Adam Castaldi), delivering a brief speech to him in between rounds of the fight that he was steadily losing. The boxer had been trained with machine-like precision, and needed a firm reminder of his potential.

    The resulting film is phenomenal. Short, hard-hitting, and high-impact. The fighting was choreographed perfectly, and the lines he wrote for me were right on the mark. With his coaching I was able to deliver them exactly as he intended, creating a momentum shift for the boxer. 

    Being on-set was an experience unto itself, as I’d never really been involved in any sort of filming before. It’s a long and arduous process, I’m sure you can imagine. We’re confident he’ll have no problem gaining acceptance to Ryerson.

    Check out the video here. After, help him out by liking the video, leaving a comment, or subscribing to his channel. Be sure to check out his other films as well.

    Be excellent. 

  7. Notes: 1 / 4 months ago 

    Anonymous asked: Your writing is absolutely phenomenal. It blows my mind how you step into a fictional character's head for a post. There's such awesome variety too. Have you considered taking writing up as a side job? You could probably find a magazine or something that would pay you for your stuff. Just food for thought. Keep up the good work!

    Thanks for the kind words, feedback is great. And yeah I mean, I prefer changing it up post to post, bringing in new scenes, characters, and ideas.

    As for working for money, I’ve certainly thought about it. I just don’t really know how to get started.

    Thanks again. 

  8. Notes: 31 / 4 months ago 

    Legacy

    He didn’t look like Dad.

    I always hated that growing up and attending funerals. All that makeup on the freshly deceased makes them look like a doll. It was especially tough seeing it on someone I loved though. 

    My dad wasn’t a perfect father, but when I look at the parents of my friends, I realize that he did an exceptional job raising my sister and I. 

    ‘Steve, do you think Cynthia could have worn a sluttier dress for Dad’s funeral?’ My sister Steph was referring to our stepmom, who was standing on the other side of the room near my father’s casket. She was right, really. Cynthia was dressed like she was headed to a movie premiere, not to a gathering mourning the loss of her husband.

    When Mom died and Dad remarried, I wasn’t devasted. I was 23 at the time and Steph was 21. Neither of us lived at home, and we had grown apart somewhat from our father. I guess life does that sometimes.

    We never took the time to bond with our stepmom. Steph strongly disliked her; I was fairly apathetic. Cynthia wasn’t necessarily a bad person or anything, but there were certainly times when I questioned her motives. In reality though, I’m sure seeing any woman other than Mom with him would have caused the same feelings in me.

    I didn’t cry during the funeral. Dad always said men shouldn’t cry in public. I held Steph tight the few times that she broke down into sobs, mainly when our close childhood friends came to give their condolences. 

    Even though we didn’t spend much time together anymore, I realized that I was still devastated about losing him. He had taught me to be a caring person, and to always put loved ones before myself. It’s a lesson I’ll never forget, and I try and live my life like that everyday.

    Being 23, I’m not exactly a child anymore, but I certainly don’t yet feel like a man. Every kid grows up wanting to be exactly like his father. I wasn’t any different.

    I’m still trying to be half the man he was.

  9. Notes: 156 / 5 months ago 

    Keep your friends close

    I just realized it’s December 23rd, and Christmas is in two days.

    Two bloody days. Jesus, time flies. I feel like Thanksgiving just passed, and we’re already onto our next major holiday. This isn’t a bad thing, mind you. Holidays mean we get to step back from our hectic lives and spend some time with friends and family. With work and school, I have such trouble finding time to get back to Hamilton and see how everyone is doing. Christmas removes all those excuses. It’s all rather exciting, getting to see my buddies and bitch about first semester. I finally get a chance to bring the girlfriend home to officially meet the parents too, which is kind of cool. All good things.

    On the topic of friends and family, I think we often lose sight of what’s really important about Christmas. If you’re religious, yeah, it’s the birth of Christ and whatnot. I respect that. It’s not my cup of tea personally, but I do acknowledge the importance of it in that aspect to some people. To me though, Christmas is all about celebrating those friends you don’t get to see very often. It’s about spending time with the family when you haven’t had a chance recently. And it’s sad, really, because Christmas has become completely commercialized. People are more worried about what trivial gift they’re going to buy their friend or significant other, instead of appreciating the fact that they have a chance to spend a day or two catching up and creating some new memories.

    Gifts, shopping, running around to malls, spending thousands of dollars - people are way to worried about all the bullshit. Don’t get me anything. Just promise that I’ll see you for coffee or a beer during the break when I’m back for a few days. 

    I’m ranting, I’ll stop. Anyway, enjoy the holidays everyone. Spend some time with your friends and family. Appreciate the time you have with them. 

    Dig out that stupid ugly sweater your grandma knitted and bust out the egg nog. Merry Christmas everyone.

  10. Notes: 3 / 5 months ago  from thedaarkside
    thedaarkside: thedaarkside + fourthbranch= <3 Power couple.

    thedaarkside:

    thedaarkside + fourthbranch= <3

    Power couple.

     
  11. Notes: 30 / 5 months ago 

    Just a water, please

    Hi. I’m your waiter.

    You may not recognize me because most of the time while I’m trying to talk to you, you’re on your phone, or just refusing to make eye contact with me. Sometimes, people forget that servers…are people. We may have a job that is often seen as menial or subservient, but I’m here to remind you that we do have feelings. Say please, and thank you, because over the course of my 12 hour shift, it goes a long way.

    Every once in awhile, someone tells me I should get a real job. 

    Maybe I’m confused, but waiting tables takes skill, personality, intelligence, and an insane amount of patience. Furthermore, since I get paid to do it, I consider it a real job.

    While we’re on the topic of getting paid, did you know that servers in some states of the US make as little as $2.13 an hour? Even here in Ontario, my minimum wage is significantly lower than the standard minimum wage. Some customers look at tipping as an option, but we servers look at tipping as a requirement. Don’t forget, I also need to ‘tip-out’ the busboys, the bartenders, the hosts, and the back of house kitchen staff.

    And hey, listen. A verbal tip is really great, but ‘You were a phenomenal server!’ is not a form of currency that my grocery store accepts. Sorry guys.

    15 to 20 percent of your total bill is what we would like for a tip. Did we absolutely blow your mind with our service, going above and beyond? Then please feel free to reward us with a 20+ percent tip. Your generosity will not go unnoticed, rest assured. Was my service sufficient, but the food was less than perfect? I’ll do my best alongside my manager to remedy the situation, but when I give you the bill after the meal, don’t punish me for the shortcomings of my kitchen staff.

    If you ask me for something and I forget to bring it (especially a refill on water, which we easily forget sometimes since it isn’t something we punch in) please don’t jump on my head about it. I may have simply had Other-Table-Syndrome, but trust me. The second I see your waiting face, I’ll know I’ve forgotten something and go running to grab it.

    Ask me about a certain menu item, and I’ll tell you about it. My level of enthusiasm for the dish will match precisely how much I like it myself. This is not, however, an audition. Don’t tell me that I wasn’t very convincing about the chicken fingers.

    Decaf coffee after the meal? Not a problem. Don’t ask me how I know it’s decaf though when I bring it to your table. Really? I made this coffee with a grind contained in a package labelled (wait for it) Decaf. That’s how I know.

    Sometimes you want to come in and eat your meal in silence, without building any rapport with your server. This is totally cool. Maybe it was a long day, or maybe you just don’t like me because I have a shaved head and way too many piercings. Eitherway, when I come over to the table for the first time and ask how you’re doing today, do not respond with ‘iced tea.’ This is not an answer to the question I posed.

    Don’t make a quip about the clever slogan on the back of my uniform. Take your current age multiplied by one hundred, add the number of hours I’ve been working, divide by the smile I don’t give you after the joke, and then square the final figure. This is approximately the number of people who’ve made the joke before you.

    Don’t ask me if a certain dish is ‘gigantic’ or any other question about the serving size. Relative to what? I can’t give you an accurate answer. My response will be a series of poor, undefined hand motions attempting to illustrate my projected size of the dish, all while I mumble non-committal phrases like ‘most people are satisfied’ and ‘depends on…’

    If you ever snap or whistle at me, you won’t see me at your table again for another 5 minutes minimum. However, I will serve tables around you with a smile.

    When you’ve finished your meal and paid your bill, I invite you to sit and finish your drink or your piece of cheesecake. Stay for a few moments after, even. But please, don’t sit there for an hour after your meal. As a server I’m assigned a certain number of tables, and I need them to rotate every hour to make any decent money. When you sit in my table all night, that’s one less table I’m making money on.

    Also, last call is at 2:00, or earlier if the bartender deems it so (he or she will announce it for you). I’m totally cool with you telling me ahead of time to order a fresh beer right before last call. I’ll do it, no problem. Don’t harass me at 2:01 though about the fact that you can’t order alcohol because I wasn’t around. I’m willing to bet my tips for the night that I was around your table moments before last call, asking if you needed a final drink.

    Also, why do you some of you look at me like I’m an alien when I crouch beside your table so that I’m not towering above you? Would you rather I stood 2 feet back, standing tall, so that you had to crane your neck upwards to see me? Think about it, crouching is more personal, you won’t need to raise your voice to talk to me, and I’m less likely to mishear your order.

    If you don’t like your food, don’t eat it. Tell me, and we’ll get you something else. Don’t finish it and then tell my manager and I that you absolutely hated it.

    Oh, I get that my life may seem glamorous, what with my fancy black uniform and jet set hours and all that cash (insert hard-to-convey-in-text sarcasm), but when you look a little closer, you’ll see chipotle mayo stains, and sleep deprivation from closing the restaurant one night and then opening it the next day. That huge wad of cash you see tucked safely into my billfold? I’ll be giving 97% of that back to my restaurant, that’s definitely not all my tip money.

    When you go to the restaurant this Christmas season, remember a few things. Acknowledge your server. Talk to us, don’t point to things and silently raise your glass for a refill. I do understand English, especially the words please and thank you. Appreciate that we’re working this night so that you can share a meal with your loved ones. Of course we’d rather be at home laughing over wine and good food with our family tonight, but we chose to work so that (fingers crossed) we can perhaps get New Years Eve off, or a few days in the new year. 

    Tell me ‘thank you’, because I really do want you to have a good time in my section. Most of the time, we really like you! Oh but, do keep your kids in their seats. I’d hate to drop the pint of Stella off my tray and into your lap because little Johnny decided to sprint haphazardly through my aisle. 

    Sincerely,

    Your server, whose name you either didn’t remember, or didn’t know because I never write it on the table paper. 

  12. Notes: 27 / 6 months ago 

    Like Father, Like Son

    I can never seem to find anything sufficient to say to the friend who just lost a loved one.

    I’ve lost people in my life. It never gets any easier, no matter how many times it happens, or how many people around you fade away. That being said, I’ve been fortunate enough to avoid experiencing the loss of a parent. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain and sense of hopelessness that must be felt. I’m not sure I would fully recover from such devastation, and so when the time came to console the friend who suddenly lost his father, I had nothing. I would be lying if I said I had any idea what they’re going through. When I think of my father, I think of him smiling at me as I marry the girl I love. I think of him holding my child with admiration in his eyes. The experiences I want to share with him are endless, and I can’t wait for them to come to fruition in time. The thought of losing our fathers before we truly become men is terrifying. We’re 20 year-old babies right now, what do we know about real life at this point?

    We need to avoid looking at death as the end of a chapter. Although it sounds cliché to say that they’re watching us from above, I truly believe it. They’re always with us, guiding us through our day-to-day lives, despite not being present physically. They’ll be there when you fall in love. They’ll be there on your wedding day. They’ll be there when you give rise to new life and bring your firstborn into the world. They don’t want us to derail our lives in mourning. I’m confident that they would much rather we take what we’ve learned from them and strive to reach our full potential as a man, as a son, as a husband, and eventually as a father.

    Life is far from fair. If we were calling the shots, these loved ones would live forever alongside us. That being said, we can keep them alive in our hearts, by remembering and loving them no less than when they were living and breathing. Death should not break our bond with someone - instead, it should strengthen it, and make us appreciate what we had with the person even more.

    He’s watching you every step of the way, never forget that.

    Rest in peace.

  13. Notes: 10 / 6 months ago 

    Uphold

    He stood motionless in the kitchen, surrounded by the remnants of the quick flurry of chaos she had created before leaving. Broken plates and glassware lay shattered around him, and he wondered how it had come to this point.

    He thought they were happy together. He was happy, anyway, and assumed she was too. But over the last few weeks, she had grown cold, saying little to him other than the bare necessities of dialogue. Reaching out to her about it accomplished little, and perhaps even aggravated the situation. He didn’t understand; what had changed?

    Today he had come home from his job with a dozen red roses to find her sitting at the kitchen table. Getting cold feet, his smile faded and the roses fell limply to his side as he pulled out a chair and sat across from her. Placing the roses meagerly on the table, he slid them towards her.

    As if her seat had just caught fire, she jumped to her feet, roses now in hand. Instinctively, he stood up just after her, as if bracing for a coming argument. But no argument began. Instead, she walked away from the table and into the kitchen before standing silent for a moment -  a moment that seemed to him like eternity. She turned in his direction with tears in her eyes. A shrill scream escaped her delicate mouth as she picked a plate off the counter and hurled it at his face. 

    The plate hit the wall behind him, narrowly missing his head as he ducked. His hands were now open in front of his face in an attempt to block any further projectiles. None come, and she instead began destroying everything breakable within her reach. The room thundered with the sound of glass breaking, shattering into a million pieces and almost mimicking the sound of heavy rain. When her shoulders finally slumped and her head bowed, he knew the worst was over. 

    He didn’t walk over and attempt to touch or comfort her. Instead he stood idle, watching silently as she stormed over to her jacket. He stood idle as she quickly put her shoes on, grabbing her car keys off the table at the door. He stood idle as the door swung open, and then slammed shut behind her.

    He stood idle, eyes fixed on the floor at the dozen red roses sitting within the shattered ceramic. His gaze moved to the door, and he wondered what had changed.

    He wondered if she was going to come back.

    He knew she wouldn’t.

  14. Notes: 11 / 6 months ago 

    Houdini

    Decided to go for a late-night beer with a friend, because I got a ton of work done this evening. We went to the Firkin, just a shitty local bar that usually doesn’t have too much action going on. Which, for a late-night beer, is usually preferred. 

    Turns out that tonight was the night everyone decided to go. It was more full than I’d ever seen. Regardless, we ordered a pitcher and took a seat at a table somewhat separated from all the commotion.

    Everyone in the bar was wasted. Absolutely piss drunk. Stumbling everywhere, talking at drunk volume, the works. And I mean, this doesn’t bother me. It’s a bar, have your fun.

    The thing that did bug me though, was when a guy and a girl went walking past us, only to pause for a second to exchange words. What I gathered from the conversation was the male saying ‘I’m gonna head back to the table.’ She said something inaudible in return, to which he replied, ‘Listen, I have a girlfriend.’ She countered, without hesitation, saying ‘Well I have a boyfriend.’

    A few more words were exchanged between the two people, before they left the bar together.

    Now, I’m not going to sit here and play holier than thou on this issue. I’m about as far from a role model as one could be. My track record of faithfulness is far from perfect, but I don’t pretend it is, either. That being said, I’ve had my fun, and it still bums me out to see shit like this. It’s discouraging as all Hell, especially as someone who really believes that I’ve reached a point of maturity where I can make the call to be faithful. Don’t engulf yourself in a relationship if you have no intention of trying your absolute best to remain monogamous.

    Furthermore, I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes, after an ill-fated number of drinks, or just a stroke of luck (or bad luck) on chemistry with a girl, nothing seems more appealing than taking her home and dealing with the consequences later. Hell, the girlfriend may never find out if you play your cards carefully, right?

    She always does though. She always finds out. So why take the risk? Or, on a less literal level, why does that temptation for infidelity even exist? The grass is always greener on the other side. There’s always something prettier, something shinier. And sometimes, it falls right into your lap. And the temptation is amplified by the complete absence of effort you had to exert to make it happen. That, truly, is the grand test of morals and character. Turning down that empty-headed 10/10 girl that takes a liking to you from across the bar, without you having to do anything.

    I don’t know where this was supposed to go, really. All I’m saying is that I see shit like that, and I hope to god it isn’t the norm. I genuinely hope that even in this day and age of promiscuity and carelessness, the vow of monogamy still holds weight. Because I’ve reached an age and level of life experience that when I make that promise to be with one person, you bet your ass I mean it.

    All we can do is hope our other is on the same page.

    But you’ll never fucking know, will you?

  15. Notes: 35 / 7 months ago 

    Money isn’t Real, Georgie

    I’m incapable of watching Blow without pondering everything in life, and thinking about what’s important. We get so caught up in the rat race that we lose sight of the things that matter. We spend our days worrying about time, money, and furthering ourselves by obtaining material possessions, and progressing within the world in very tangible and quantifiable ways. 

    But what about the things we can’t measure with a numerical value, like friendships, or the love for your other? Aren’t these the most important things? No dollar amount can be related to having someone to call your own, or having a child to raise with all the love you can muster, or having a group of friends surrounding you, helping you when everything just isn’t right.

    Take a step back, slow it down a pace or two, and smile about the special people in your life - the reasons you get out of bed in the morning. Embrace them, always.

    So in the end, was it worth it? Jesus Christ. How irreparably changed my life has become. It’s always the last day of summer and I’ve been left out in the cold with no door to get back in. I’ll grant you I’ve had more than my share of poignant moments. Life passes most people by while they’re making grand plans for it. Throughout my lifetime, I’ve left pieces of my heart here and there. And now, there’s almost not enough to stay alive. But I force a smile, knowing that my ambition far exceeded my talent. There are no more white horses or pretty ladies at my door. 

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Be Excellent.
The name is Jordan. I live in the heart of Toronto.
Any text posts here are original thought.
This is the monster.
Shoot me an e-mail so we can get the ball rolling if you need some web content written. I also review formal essays or articles for grammar and flow. jordan.sterling@live.ca
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