You Want to Save the Earth, So You Litter.

Today, the snow kept falling all day long. After a while it became tiresome, as snow can, with its endless falling flakes. But, pray, do not misunderstand, I love the snow. Snow is the essential ingredient to a well lived life. The experience of it, to roll around and play, as if a child brings out the best in people, reminding them of the importance of idyllic and free. Maybe what I write is biased, because I originate from an area where snow is like litter on the ground, frequent and everywhere. 

So, naturally, when I hear the words "I hate winter/snow" I just begin to cringe a little bit and bite my tongue. People who hate the snow, aren't real people. They're manufactured, the pseudo-representations of what someone else wants them to be, what modern culture wants them to be. To them the entire world would be better if it was a large scale version of California, with 70 degree weather everyday, a striving metropolis of beaches, sprinkler systems, celebutants, and cities that survive solely on the consumption of more resources than naturally available. 

The flaw to their fake world, where everything lies between the boundaries of sex and unsustainability, it that sometimes they will crave the snow, the cold chill. Of course, their solution to this problem is not to return and appreciate the good earth; instead, it's what we call a "winter resort." A place where all those rich and fortunate can leave the comfort of the desert for a bit of snow, a retreat to experience skiing, tourism, and that rustic cabin feel securely in a residence that costs 10 times what any other "old cabin in the woods" would. 

The irony to the desired lifestyle of the modern anti-snow regime, is that with all of the unsustainability, the over consumption, the waste, the contamination, it also has the highest percentage of self-claimed environmentalists and Eco-friendly people. 

Shit, people are so unreal. 

A Glass of Wine, A Hot Bath

It was slightly warmer today. In comparison to the prior days it was about 5X warmer, since today it was about 50 degrees and all the days before were more close to 5 degrees. I had to work today. It wasn't that great, as you might be able to assume, since working over the weekend never is. When I got home I downed a glass of wine and too a long hot bath. I needed to soak in the warmth, to gain a little, perspective. I think I've mentioned the lack of joy I receive from my occupation before, but I must clarify. It's not actually the career itself that I find unsatisfying. It's the class of "cohorts" that I have to work and deal with. They bring my stress level to its peak, because they're under qualified and under trained, which leads to mistakes and faulty interpretation in their work. 

Of course, their response to my allegations of being "unsuitable" would somehow attack how large they perceive my ego to be. Not to say their perceptions are wrong, I mean let's be honest here, I do tend to treat myself as "holier than thou," but that shouldn't have any effect on their competence? Right? Maybe I should take a holiday, despite the seven day one I had at the beginning of the year. If I go on hiatus for a week and the lab doesn't fall in on itself, it might be a better indicator of whether my colleagues can handle themselves. 

Right? 

Tax Season Makes Me Feel Like Punching Numbers.

The sky is clear. It looks as if it's warm and nice out but once you open the window a bitter cold hits you right in the face. It's like a shockwave. I haven't written for a while. I believe the ladt time was when I was getting on the plane to Montreal, which was delightful. I got to speak French and translate for my friend whom I met with, despite her forceful words about how she really needed to do it on her own. I arrived back home warmed by the stay in Canada, in home, my prior home. 

Now I'm just wasting aways the days of work until I have another vacation upon me. That's what work really is for me, just the time spent between vacations meant to fill the void. Not going to lie, I don't get much fufillment out of my job. It's just a job, something to bring in the dough to pay bills and allow me to survive in this world. However, what I find even more surprising are the amounts of people who are shocked when I tell them my career does not meet my lifes fufillment. The irony in this is that most of the people I meet like this are accountants, CPAs, dental hygenists, physical education teachers, people in careers that would otherwise be not thought chosen for enjoyment but out of necessity. I mean, really, who ever says they actaully want to grow up to be a CPA? 

Answer: No one. 

Chew Gum During Takeoff, It Makes Your Ears Pop.

It's a foggy day. I'm waiting in the airport for my flight. Hopefully it won't be delayed because of the fog. I don't think it will, but who knows, it might be for some odd chance. I don't want to wait here any longer than I have to. I don't really like airports. The people. The interactions. I don't know, I find it all kind of bile in some weird way. 

Maybe it all the mothers and fathers and little children crying. It's just so, weak. They're travelling for the holidays, uniting in family bonds, creating friendships and kin ships, yet their flying to their destination. It's so impersonal. Flights don't allow for bondage. They don't allow for those embarrassing family sing-a-longs, quirky travel games, or secret conversations about how Mary Jo isn't really who you think she is. 

Flights put that distance between people. Allow to families to revert to headphones, portable DVD players, laptops, and word puzzles. There's no communication. It's just distance. I suppose I'm bitter, and I suppose one might call me a hypocrite because I'm flying myself. Well, firstly, I'm not travelling as a family. I am a single person, so a good bout of flight and introspection is okay for me. Secondly, I am bitter. 

When I was a child, my family (my mother) and I would travel everywhere via automobile. No matter the distance. The drive, it was the adventure. Across country or just down the road, those moments in the front seat of that old Volvo wagon are the ones I still remember. The ones I will always remember. 

So what can I assume about children of the modern era, the ones born of flight and fancy? Well, naturally, I suppose they won't remember much of their childhoods. 

Too bad. 

Travel to the North, Speak French, Greet Friends.

It's sunny outside, with partial clouds. I made some hot cocoa, because despite the sun it was still chilly. Nine degrees. I don't normally drink hot cocoa. I'm more of a tea person, generally speaking, maybe coffee if I need the buzz. I have a friend, Avaline, who doesn't drink hot cocoa either. Her mother was allergic, not mention, she was friends with my mother. It's how we met when we were five, in Montreal, through our mothers on a play date. These play dates were always completely overrated. Once a year, they'd occur and our mothers would naively think we'd still retain that fragile relationship that had been worked up at our last play date the prior year. Naturally it never really worked out. I was barely bilingual and she spoke about three words of French. 

We were separate people. Ten years after our last play date when I was ten I ran into her on the streets. Spilled tea all down the front of her shirt. Got Asian noodles slopped down the front of mine. One might call this serendipitous, us accidentally covering each other with the food and whatever else we held in our hands, feeling so guilty that we chatted ourselves all the way over to the nearest retail store to invest in something stain-free, and discovering that we were each the child of two mothers that forced us to be playmates for five days each year when they met together in Montreal. 

I suppose you might not believe me. It's a story too perfect. It fits too nicely into the mold of fairy-tale connections. I probably wouldn't believe it, if it I wasn't the one thrown into the series of situations. Anyways, why do I bring up these moments of connection? Hot cocoa. Montreal.

Hot cocoa reminds me of her mother. Montreal reminds me of those five days for each of those five years. We're meeting up in Montreal for five days. We've done so for the past five years, ever since meeting five years ago. Just like our mothers. 

I suppose this story is too perfect. 

I Wish I Could Speak French Again.

It's snowing again today. I kind of like it. Growing up in the northern reaches of the world gives me an appreciation for the snow that most people around here lack. They just don't get the cold. They crave the obscene warmth of the summer, when I'm usually dying for the windy chills of winter. This season is just so much fresher. The air is crisper. It has that taste in it, the taste of cold and cigarettes and western winds and falling leaves. Summer doesn't taste, it just feels, like salt and heat and energy and evaporating water. This culture, it's all about feeling. Nothing else, just the immediate gratification of fun and joy and life. There's no experience, no taste, no smell. Something about that kind of kills me on the inside. Maybe it's because I wish I was living up in the northern reaches of the world again. Maybe it's because I wish people would be more, real. 

Of course, there's the other thing about winter in this region. It's the whole driving thing. There's a definite lack of control when in comes to people and their automobiles. I don't know how to explain it, because I rarely drive an automobile. But it seems that the entire idea of traction to people has been completely phased out of their minds. If you want to see one of the saddest sights in the world, come south in the winter to a temperate that has recently received about 5 inches of snow. There will about thirty cars driven into culverts and ditches within a one-mile distance.

It's sad people can't drive safely. Or maybe it's sad because we've lost so much control. 

If You Think You're Witty, You're Really Not.

I figure that since "profiles" are just bile excuses to flaunt how uninteresting a person really is, I should then actually introduce myself. My name is Gin, and yes that really is my name and it actually is spelled like that, rather than being some clever way for me make a really bad joke about how I like to "party." In reality, I like like girls like that are without substance, shallow, and should be eradicated off the Earth's surface. Of course, all this soreness could be due to the fact that my mother was an alcoholic that named me after her favorite drinking beverage. 

Right now, I'm twenty-five, grew up in Canada, and I like to ride my bicycle everywhere. I suppose you could call me "eco-conscious" but I really dislike being labeled and lumped with most people who would consder themselves "earth-friendly." Why? Because they are usually fakes they have no actual understanding of the Earth's processes, they just like the idea of hopping on the bandwagon. 

Most people would consider me bitter. I have this sardonic sort of tone most of the time, so they don't ever actually know when to take me seriously. The truth is, however, I actually am serious when I talk, write, communicate, I just have that tone. It's probably the result of a "hard" life, growing up with a single mother being an alcoholic and all. But I'd say that that's the response of someone who just doesn't want to the deal with the truth, because let's face it, nobody really wants to know truth. 

On a lighter note, it's snowing outside, so I think I'll go and take a hike. Explore nature a little. 

My First Post: A Year Later.

This is going to be my first post. My first real post. I know I posted some dribble about a year ago when this blog was first started, but it didn't work out. So this, is going to be my first "real" post. I don't exactly know what this blog is going to be about, what the focus will be, but I suppose I'll get soem direction when I start writing. I think my next post will act as an introduction, rather than wasting time now to do it. I've got to extend this blog's life as long as possible. As this is how I will do it. 

La-Di-Da-Di-Dah.

Ev added me to her blog, though I really don't know why. I suppose she just gets tired of being to only one to post anything on it. So check it out, she says a lot of . . . incoherent things most of the time, but sometimes she actually has a point and purpose.

Cough.

Oh god, I'm back. I must be sick.
Where the thermometer?

Nope, temperature is normal.
What's wrong with me?

Yeah, right.

I was berated into this. I mentioned in conversation how I hadn't used my computer in nearly three years (yeah, I know, surprising) and then somehow got dragged into turning it on and setting up an account. Yeah, don't be surprised (again) if this doesn't work out. Its not my fault. I just hate doing things that are not mandatory for my life. Plus, I just worked out a way to make my entire lifestyle eco-friendly, and now the electric company actually pays me to use their power, this might offset everything. I couldn't deal with that.