I live away from home now, in a room I pay for monthly. The sheer magnitude of this is still setting in, but I think I've got a handle on it now. It's a weird feeling being away from home this long, even if I make semi-weekly visits back. It really is very weird, sleeping in a place that is not my childhood bedroom. It's an excellent feeling, but weird. I'm not in school anymore. Won't be again for some time. I'm working part-time, with hopes to go full-time at a Home Depot.
This is really strange. In the space of a month, my life has changed completely. I'm getting along with my family better than ever, I've traded some issues for others, and... My life has started. I suppose that's all there is to it. My life has started. It's frightening sometimes, but what can you do? You move with it, and adapt, and make sure you stay on top of it.
Until next time...
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
My Thoughts on Certain Matters
I appreciate honesty and I appreciate directness. I am a blunt, unrepentant asshole who would prefer to get everything that is bothering someone out in the open so it can be dealt with point by point, regardless of what sort of subject it is. Now, having said that, I'm also a forgetful person. I am not the classiest of individuals. I can be messy at times, and I can sometimes be rude without meaning to. All of these things, amongst a host of others, are character faults that I recognize and attempt to deal with whenever I can. I'd also like to think that I'm a fairly rational, logical individual, who can be reasoned with if approached calmly. That's something I like to think, though I know that when I get truly mad my logic fails me at times, and I might make an error in judgment.
So there you go. There's a slice of who I am.
All that being said now, the question comes, "Robert, what the hell are you talking about." Well, to be honest, that's the business of those involved, and those involved alone. I know just by posting this, people are going to make assumptions, but rest assured, those assumptions will neither be confirmed nor denied.
Until next time...
So there you go. There's a slice of who I am.
All that being said now, the question comes, "Robert, what the hell are you talking about." Well, to be honest, that's the business of those involved, and those involved alone. I know just by posting this, people are going to make assumptions, but rest assured, those assumptions will neither be confirmed nor denied.
Until next time...
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Update
I, Robert Clark, am moving away from home, within the next two weeks. I will be living elsewhere than here, where I have resided for over twenty years. I will be living in a new home, one not the only place I can ever remember living.
What the fuck is going on? I'm turning twenty-two, I'm moving away from home, I'm... Good lord, I'm turning into an adult! When the fuck did this happen? My friend is buying a house and moving in with their girlfriend of three years, and I'm barely dating, yet I'm moving out on my 'own' and ready to pay rent, and buy my own food, and I'm turning twenty-two!? My mind, dear reader, as you might suspect, is blown.
Okay, deep breath.
So yes, I'm moving out, for the first time, and I'm starting to stress now. Yes Duane, if you're reading this, you win. I really wasn't feeling it til just about now, and I'm not sure how long after the close date I'm going to be able to wait to move in. Very likely, not very long. Things though are getting crazier by the day, and I can't... It's hard to contain the excitement. There's a lot of parts of my life that I want to move forward, but they seem stuck at the moment. I see these parts of my life that have just outright stalled, and my seeming lack of interest in them, and I see this closing date as the day when I can stand up and say 'Yes, this part of my life matters now. This is my life, and I'll live it.'
I dunno. I'm probably romanticizing this move a little bit too much. But hey, we'll see. I'm running out of steam here, and seeing how it's my only real post this year, I'll close it with my usual...
Until next time...
What the fuck is going on? I'm turning twenty-two, I'm moving away from home, I'm... Good lord, I'm turning into an adult! When the fuck did this happen? My friend is buying a house and moving in with their girlfriend of three years, and I'm barely dating, yet I'm moving out on my 'own' and ready to pay rent, and buy my own food, and I'm turning twenty-two!? My mind, dear reader, as you might suspect, is blown.
Okay, deep breath.
So yes, I'm moving out, for the first time, and I'm starting to stress now. Yes Duane, if you're reading this, you win. I really wasn't feeling it til just about now, and I'm not sure how long after the close date I'm going to be able to wait to move in. Very likely, not very long. Things though are getting crazier by the day, and I can't... It's hard to contain the excitement. There's a lot of parts of my life that I want to move forward, but they seem stuck at the moment. I see these parts of my life that have just outright stalled, and my seeming lack of interest in them, and I see this closing date as the day when I can stand up and say 'Yes, this part of my life matters now. This is my life, and I'll live it.'
I dunno. I'm probably romanticizing this move a little bit too much. But hey, we'll see. I'm running out of steam here, and seeing how it's my only real post this year, I'll close it with my usual...
Until next time...
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Post Below
Before you even look at it, I want to explain myself on the subject of the post directly below this one. Before I do that though, I want you to scroll over and click on the link that says "Justice?" on the right hand side of the screen. Read that over, and when done, come back here before reading the post below this one
Last week, I was involved in a fight with someone, and the poem two posts below was the end result. I was particularly proud of this poem, and as I am now active on Deviant Art, I posted it there as well.
I found that the poem was well written, straight from the heart, and I thought it flowed well. I was praised by one of the other individuals involved in the fight, and I thought the matter closed.
A few hours ago, another of those involved in the fight saw the poem. They looked at it, and as they told me, got two lines in before they decided that they were under attack.
Now if you followed my instructions, you will have your first impressions of that poem. I have been told by three different readers that they thought that I had gotten into a fight either with a couple, or was involved in a fight with a couple. This was the first impression of three different people. I mention this, because I am challenging the claim that it is obvious who the poem is about.
Next I challenge anyone's right to demand I should remove something because they feel offended by it. One can feel offense all they want, but this is Canada. I have a write to the freedom of my expression in the media that I choose. I choose the written word.
If people have a problem with that, then I would say fine. If people want to be angry, fine. It is when I am threatened with having my accounts hacked, and not for the first time, that I take issue. I will not stand for it, and as a result, I have had to change the passwords on most of my accounts. This has gone too far, and I will not be censored in such a rude and arrogant manner.
I make the following promise to those who would threaten to delete any post of mine. If any post of mine is deliberately deleted in a quest to censor me, I will take the hard copy, and I keep hard copies of just about everything, and I will photocopy it. I will then do whatever it takes to make sure that as many people as possible see it. I will post them to every major internet discussion board, I will post them to telephone poles, I will put copies in envelopes and distribute them myself. I say none of this with the expectation that I will ever have to do it. I trust that those who I say this to, and the one who made the threat knows who he or she is, understands that I mean what I say.
Anyways, returning to my point, I found myself threatened by this person. They perceived my poem as an attack, and immediately demanded the removal of the poem. I refused, and the threat was made that my account would be hacked onto, and the poem erased. My passwords have been subsequently changed, and ultimatums delivered, as seen just one scant paragraph above, in angry spiteful words. I then started typing, and what is seen below is what emerged.
I know that the final results of what lays below seems to be contradicted by this, but I would point out that I am not attempting art with this post. I am making a point. A very important one.
The point is, stop taking my posts to be outright attacks. They are not, unless I say they are. I am not the type of person to attack a person behind their back, I will be upfront, as I am being with this post. I may not tell the person this is aimed at that I've posted this, but they will look at it eventually.
Also, I will write about what happens to me if I want. I will not use names, at least not real ones anyways. However, this does not mean I will not reference those people around me. I will as much as I want.
Finally, then you can go read the post below this one, I notice that I am allowed to write good things about people, but not bad. What is with this self-serving hypocrisy. I will not mention what I am talking about, as it would make who I am talking about obvious, but I will call the person I am talking about a hypocrite.
I was thanked and praised for that one, but the slightest allusion to an event that portrayed the same person in a negative light results in threats of censorship and a hacking of my account. Nice and classy there.
This is not a nice post, but I feel better now.
I am aware people will be angry for this one, but I see no need for a similar post to ever happen again now that I've said all this.
It is necessary that this remain. It is necessary for three reasons. First, the piece below needs an intro. Second, that ultimatum needs to be written down, because I mean it. I want it in writing. Finally, this is how I feel, and if I try to express myself otherwise, I will not sound as sincere or collected.
Until next time...
Last week, I was involved in a fight with someone, and the poem two posts below was the end result. I was particularly proud of this poem, and as I am now active on Deviant Art, I posted it there as well.
I found that the poem was well written, straight from the heart, and I thought it flowed well. I was praised by one of the other individuals involved in the fight, and I thought the matter closed.
A few hours ago, another of those involved in the fight saw the poem. They looked at it, and as they told me, got two lines in before they decided that they were under attack.
Now if you followed my instructions, you will have your first impressions of that poem. I have been told by three different readers that they thought that I had gotten into a fight either with a couple, or was involved in a fight with a couple. This was the first impression of three different people. I mention this, because I am challenging the claim that it is obvious who the poem is about.
Next I challenge anyone's right to demand I should remove something because they feel offended by it. One can feel offense all they want, but this is Canada. I have a write to the freedom of my expression in the media that I choose. I choose the written word.
If people have a problem with that, then I would say fine. If people want to be angry, fine. It is when I am threatened with having my accounts hacked, and not for the first time, that I take issue. I will not stand for it, and as a result, I have had to change the passwords on most of my accounts. This has gone too far, and I will not be censored in such a rude and arrogant manner.
I make the following promise to those who would threaten to delete any post of mine. If any post of mine is deliberately deleted in a quest to censor me, I will take the hard copy, and I keep hard copies of just about everything, and I will photocopy it. I will then do whatever it takes to make sure that as many people as possible see it. I will post them to every major internet discussion board, I will post them to telephone poles, I will put copies in envelopes and distribute them myself. I say none of this with the expectation that I will ever have to do it. I trust that those who I say this to, and the one who made the threat knows who he or she is, understands that I mean what I say.
Anyways, returning to my point, I found myself threatened by this person. They perceived my poem as an attack, and immediately demanded the removal of the poem. I refused, and the threat was made that my account would be hacked onto, and the poem erased. My passwords have been subsequently changed, and ultimatums delivered, as seen just one scant paragraph above, in angry spiteful words. I then started typing, and what is seen below is what emerged.
I know that the final results of what lays below seems to be contradicted by this, but I would point out that I am not attempting art with this post. I am making a point. A very important one.
The point is, stop taking my posts to be outright attacks. They are not, unless I say they are. I am not the type of person to attack a person behind their back, I will be upfront, as I am being with this post. I may not tell the person this is aimed at that I've posted this, but they will look at it eventually.
Also, I will write about what happens to me if I want. I will not use names, at least not real ones anyways. However, this does not mean I will not reference those people around me. I will as much as I want.
Finally, then you can go read the post below this one, I notice that I am allowed to write good things about people, but not bad. What is with this self-serving hypocrisy. I will not mention what I am talking about, as it would make who I am talking about obvious, but I will call the person I am talking about a hypocrite.
I was thanked and praised for that one, but the slightest allusion to an event that portrayed the same person in a negative light results in threats of censorship and a hacking of my account. Nice and classy there.
This is not a nice post, but I feel better now.
I am aware people will be angry for this one, but I see no need for a similar post to ever happen again now that I've said all this.
It is necessary that this remain. It is necessary for three reasons. First, the piece below needs an intro. Second, that ultimatum needs to be written down, because I mean it. I want it in writing. Finally, this is how I feel, and if I try to express myself otherwise, I will not sound as sincere or collected.
Until next time...
A Chance at the Truth
My ideas are my own.
I will not be silenced.
My words are my own,
I will spread them to the world.
My medium is the written word
To stop me is to hold me back
To censor me is to hold me down
To impose restrictions on me is to break my spirit and take my freedom away.
The ruled sheet is my canvas onto which my masterpiece will flow.
My masterpiece will be truly mine;
Heartfelt expressions, lyrically phrased,
and brought forward in such a way that nobody,
Not a soul,
Will ever challenge me as to what is mine and what is not.
I shall not see my visions tarnished, I will not hide them from the world.
I can not stop because of anger produced by my veiled allusions.
The words that sting are the true feelings from my heart,
and I have only the choice in how the words sting whom.
The words may stay bottled, hidden from all but me;
The stings forever going inwards.
Words may flow onto the empty page but silenced in fear of offending another,
The feelings that would be seen only shadows of what truly exists.
My feelings would be detached, forgotten and lost.
A part of myself, at some time, scattered forever and a nagging sense of loss all that remains.
My heart could go out though, out for all to take notice.
Feelings expressed and acknowledged, the heartfelt wounds no longer simply mine to bear.
Spread amongst those that should know them, those that would want to see.
A jealous few would hate them, but that would be the price to pay for being free.
Thought for thought, what is there is truly me.
My words are not crafted to be the barbs that they are seen as.
My lines are not made with the intent to hurt.
I choose my words and lay them down,
I share them with the world.
I ask for help, I ask for guidance.
Guidance to heal,
Guidance to teach.
Guidance to find what I am looking for within myself.
This must be understood.
I write for me, and for no one else.
I write to clear my mind,
such that I can know my own self true.
I write to better my craft, to sharpen my mind.
I write so that I know my deepest thoughts,
the ones that do not make themselves known.
I write so that I can try to find balance.
I show my art to the world not in a spirit of vengeance;
not in a spirit of malevolence.
It is so that I can be shown how to express myself.
Express myself better,
More clearly,
More eloquently,
More lyrically.
I show my art to the world not to sting and bruise,
It is so that I can ask how to not feel the stings and bruises myself.
So that I will not bruise,
So that I will not be stung.
So in the future when I am given pause to think again on matters close,
The lessons learned will bring a new resolution.
One beneficial to all.
I write, I share, I listen, I change.
I write again.
As much as I wish to do one thing, I often do another.
Such did my work, to assert my integrity and honour,
become a heartfelt plea for understanding.
It saddens me that through all of it, I will still not receive it.
I will receive scorn,
I will be the subject of derision,
I will have those who I seek to make understand, become enraged.
In the end though, my works will be mine.
If I have to choose between the artificial peace and my dreams,
I pick my dreams.
If the choice to keep my eventual masterpiece,
Causes strife and increases the enmity always felt,
the choice becomes more difficult.
I do not desire it, but I must let what I create be mine.
Not someone elses, tainted by threats and anger.
Not soured by a sugar coating.
Whatever shown must be the truth.
I will show my words.
I will show my heart.
I will show the truth.
As much as it may pain me in the end,
I will not be silenced.
Until next time...
I will not be silenced.
My words are my own,
I will spread them to the world.
My medium is the written word
To stop me is to hold me back
To censor me is to hold me down
To impose restrictions on me is to break my spirit and take my freedom away.
The ruled sheet is my canvas onto which my masterpiece will flow.
My masterpiece will be truly mine;
Heartfelt expressions, lyrically phrased,
and brought forward in such a way that nobody,
Not a soul,
Will ever challenge me as to what is mine and what is not.
I shall not see my visions tarnished, I will not hide them from the world.
I can not stop because of anger produced by my veiled allusions.
The words that sting are the true feelings from my heart,
and I have only the choice in how the words sting whom.
The words may stay bottled, hidden from all but me;
The stings forever going inwards.
Words may flow onto the empty page but silenced in fear of offending another,
The feelings that would be seen only shadows of what truly exists.
My feelings would be detached, forgotten and lost.
A part of myself, at some time, scattered forever and a nagging sense of loss all that remains.
My heart could go out though, out for all to take notice.
Feelings expressed and acknowledged, the heartfelt wounds no longer simply mine to bear.
Spread amongst those that should know them, those that would want to see.
A jealous few would hate them, but that would be the price to pay for being free.
Thought for thought, what is there is truly me.
My words are not crafted to be the barbs that they are seen as.
My lines are not made with the intent to hurt.
I choose my words and lay them down,
I share them with the world.
I ask for help, I ask for guidance.
Guidance to heal,
Guidance to teach.
Guidance to find what I am looking for within myself.
This must be understood.
I write for me, and for no one else.
I write to clear my mind,
such that I can know my own self true.
I write to better my craft, to sharpen my mind.
I write so that I know my deepest thoughts,
the ones that do not make themselves known.
I write so that I can try to find balance.
I show my art to the world not in a spirit of vengeance;
not in a spirit of malevolence.
It is so that I can be shown how to express myself.
Express myself better,
More clearly,
More eloquently,
More lyrically.
I show my art to the world not to sting and bruise,
It is so that I can ask how to not feel the stings and bruises myself.
So that I will not bruise,
So that I will not be stung.
So in the future when I am given pause to think again on matters close,
The lessons learned will bring a new resolution.
One beneficial to all.
I write, I share, I listen, I change.
I write again.
As much as I wish to do one thing, I often do another.
Such did my work, to assert my integrity and honour,
become a heartfelt plea for understanding.
It saddens me that through all of it, I will still not receive it.
I will receive scorn,
I will be the subject of derision,
I will have those who I seek to make understand, become enraged.
In the end though, my works will be mine.
If I have to choose between the artificial peace and my dreams,
I pick my dreams.
If the choice to keep my eventual masterpiece,
Causes strife and increases the enmity always felt,
the choice becomes more difficult.
I do not desire it, but I must let what I create be mine.
Not someone elses, tainted by threats and anger.
Not soured by a sugar coating.
Whatever shown must be the truth.
I will show my words.
I will show my heart.
I will show the truth.
As much as it may pain me in the end,
I will not be silenced.
Until next time...
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Justice?
Verbally lashed,
Unjustly accused.
The moral high ground is mine.
I did not wrong, I am not to blame.
In the end I am the one in the right.
Verbally lashed,
Vulgarities thrown.
The mediator falls, having tried only to be the voice of reason.
She had tried to keep it civil,
She had tried to stay so fair.
In the end she was betrayed,
By the boy who laid the blame on me.
Betrayed by he that she was fighting for,
Temper lit,
flaring high,
burned her wings,
now she will cry.
Crying for the poisons that he spat at her.
She only tried to help,
Trying to not let the fight flare so high.
Tempers lit,
and now she cries.
She is hurt. What sort of winning is this then?
It is a Pyrrhic victory as my fighting force is gone.
Saddened now knowing that the one who tried to stop the fall,
is the only one who has felt like she has lost.
Saddened that the one who cries,
Was the most blameless one of all.
Until next time...
Unjustly accused.
The moral high ground is mine.
I did not wrong, I am not to blame.
In the end I am the one in the right.
Verbally lashed,
Vulgarities thrown.
The mediator falls, having tried only to be the voice of reason.
She had tried to keep it civil,
She had tried to stay so fair.
In the end she was betrayed,
By the boy who laid the blame on me.
Betrayed by he that she was fighting for,
Temper lit,
flaring high,
burned her wings,
now she will cry.
Crying for the poisons that he spat at her.
She only tried to help,
Trying to not let the fight flare so high.
Tempers lit,
and now she cries.
She is hurt. What sort of winning is this then?
It is a Pyrrhic victory as my fighting force is gone.
Saddened now knowing that the one who tried to stop the fall,
is the only one who has felt like she has lost.
Saddened that the one who cries,
Was the most blameless one of all.
Until next time...
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Death
I don't know why I randomly thought of this at twenty to four in the morning, but it just popped into my head.
If I were to die today, my final wishes, which are known, would not be carried out.
This distresses me, it really does, and I do not know what to do about it. There are certain things that I want done after my death, even though I know it will have no bearing on absolutely anything. I know that how my death is handled will impact on those who will deal with it, but at the same time, should my wishes not be respected? I don't know, maybe that is a question best left to the philosophers.
I have been told my funeral will have a priest or reverend. In general, some sort of religious spin. I have been told I am being buried, six feet underground. I have been told that I will not be cremated.
Now, let's sort some things out. I do not want my funeral to have any sort of religious spin on it. I am an atheist. I don't want my death handled any different than how I handled my life. Whoever conducts my eulogy can feel free to be sarcastic about my life. I would want them to try and find happiness after I'm dead. I don't want them looking at all my good points and oversinging my praises, because that just doesn't paint a realistic portrait of me. Something that once I'm dead, will need to be done.
What I really want, is something called a speaking. It's something that comes up in Orson Scott Card's Speaker for the Dead and it's always been something that appealed to me. The aim was not to paint a glowing picture of the deceased, but to rather explain their life, for good and bad, and try to illustrate what their intentions were in life. Their motivations and such.
I would like that.
As to the second and third points, I want to be cremated. The idea of my body being on fire and being turned into ash doesn't bother me. The idea of my body slowly becoming food for the worms is more than just a little bit disturbing.
I want to be cremated, and to have my ashes spread. I have a list of places I'd like them to go, but some are admittedly unrealistic. The point though is, I'd rather sit in an urn or a ziploc bag on someone's mantle or in someone's closet, then to have my remains rot underground.
In any case, I know it wont matter, but in life, the idea that what I want in death wont be carried out; pisses me off more than just a little bit.
Anyways...
Until next time...
If I were to die today, my final wishes, which are known, would not be carried out.
This distresses me, it really does, and I do not know what to do about it. There are certain things that I want done after my death, even though I know it will have no bearing on absolutely anything. I know that how my death is handled will impact on those who will deal with it, but at the same time, should my wishes not be respected? I don't know, maybe that is a question best left to the philosophers.
I have been told my funeral will have a priest or reverend. In general, some sort of religious spin. I have been told I am being buried, six feet underground. I have been told that I will not be cremated.
Now, let's sort some things out. I do not want my funeral to have any sort of religious spin on it. I am an atheist. I don't want my death handled any different than how I handled my life. Whoever conducts my eulogy can feel free to be sarcastic about my life. I would want them to try and find happiness after I'm dead. I don't want them looking at all my good points and oversinging my praises, because that just doesn't paint a realistic portrait of me. Something that once I'm dead, will need to be done.
What I really want, is something called a speaking. It's something that comes up in Orson Scott Card's Speaker for the Dead and it's always been something that appealed to me. The aim was not to paint a glowing picture of the deceased, but to rather explain their life, for good and bad, and try to illustrate what their intentions were in life. Their motivations and such.
I would like that.
As to the second and third points, I want to be cremated. The idea of my body being on fire and being turned into ash doesn't bother me. The idea of my body slowly becoming food for the worms is more than just a little bit disturbing.
I want to be cremated, and to have my ashes spread. I have a list of places I'd like them to go, but some are admittedly unrealistic. The point though is, I'd rather sit in an urn or a ziploc bag on someone's mantle or in someone's closet, then to have my remains rot underground.
In any case, I know it wont matter, but in life, the idea that what I want in death wont be carried out; pisses me off more than just a little bit.
Anyways...
Until next time...
Sunday, December 23, 2007
My Older Style of Writing
You know what is somewhat depressing? Looking back upon your older works, your old posts, your old writing, poetry and short stories. Reading back through them, having a good laugh, thinking about how you used to view the world. Looking back and realizing that you have not improved at writing in the slightest.
I was recently looking back upon my post "I Wish You a Merry Christmas" and marvelled at a few things. I noticed that since then, my religious and political beliefs have matured and settled. I noticed, upon reading through this post and a few others that my writing used to be much more interesting. I could make sentences flow together and sound exactly how I wanted them to without any effort at all. There was no worries of using the correct words, as everything just flowed from my head to the page. I could write three or four pieces in the space of two hours.
And the writing was good. I really enjoyed it, and I was good at it, at least in my opinion.
These days, it seems that writing the way I used to is harder. It takes more concentration, which I cannot seem to muster these days, and I can never seem to work out how to just sit and write. The atmosphere is never right, despite almost always having writing materials.
I wish so much that I could simply write like I used to. Without effort, without a hint of self consciousness. Write without worrying about what people would think, and write what I truly felt.
Until next time...
I was recently looking back upon my post "I Wish You a Merry Christmas" and marvelled at a few things. I noticed that since then, my religious and political beliefs have matured and settled. I noticed, upon reading through this post and a few others that my writing used to be much more interesting. I could make sentences flow together and sound exactly how I wanted them to without any effort at all. There was no worries of using the correct words, as everything just flowed from my head to the page. I could write three or four pieces in the space of two hours.
And the writing was good. I really enjoyed it, and I was good at it, at least in my opinion.
These days, it seems that writing the way I used to is harder. It takes more concentration, which I cannot seem to muster these days, and I can never seem to work out how to just sit and write. The atmosphere is never right, despite almost always having writing materials.
I wish so much that I could simply write like I used to. Without effort, without a hint of self consciousness. Write without worrying about what people would think, and write what I truly felt.
Until next time...
Sunday, December 16, 2007
I am not a Heathen
I don't know what is with people. I don't understand them at a really basic level, but sometimes they are spectacularly insane. At work on Friday, a woman came up to me and asked me if I believed in the "power of Jesus, and his power to save my soul from eternal damnation."
I don't think it is much to ask not to be asked these types of questions out of the blue while I'm cashing people through, but this is actually the second time this has happened to me. I've been given religious pamphlets before, but usually they don't talk to me much.
Anyways, I said no, because as you may or may not know, I am an atheist. In response I was called a heathen. Then I had the angriest parts of Leviticus quoted at me. The parts of it that have stones being thrown at various sinners.
Now, I don't think I'm asking a lot for these people not to quote the Old Testament at me. They could at least quote New Testament at me, maybe John 3:16. That would at least make sense. No, though. Angriest parts of the angriest book of the angriest half of the bible. That and being called something I am actually not.
I am an infidel.
I am a very proud infidel, but one who isn't trying to convert everyone.
I am not a heathen. They are pagans who worship germanic or scandanavian gods or godesses.
I am technically a Pagan, but not really. I am only a Pagan in the sense that I do not worship the Abrahamic god. I instead worship no god.
I am not a heretic. I have been called this as well by the way, by someone who asked me if I had found Jesus. I said no, and pulled out my copy of The God Delusion to do some counter-proselytizing. At this point I was given a terribly dirty look, and was called a heretic.
Strictly speaking, a heretic would have to believe in a god to begin with. I would then be branded a heretic, and promptly excommunicated.
I am an infidel, I deny the divinity of Jesus, I reject the notion that there is any sort of god.
Frankly I think the politically correct term, regardless of what word may actually be correct is simply an atheist.
Until next time...
I don't think it is much to ask not to be asked these types of questions out of the blue while I'm cashing people through, but this is actually the second time this has happened to me. I've been given religious pamphlets before, but usually they don't talk to me much.
Anyways, I said no, because as you may or may not know, I am an atheist. In response I was called a heathen. Then I had the angriest parts of Leviticus quoted at me. The parts of it that have stones being thrown at various sinners.
Now, I don't think I'm asking a lot for these people not to quote the Old Testament at me. They could at least quote New Testament at me, maybe John 3:16. That would at least make sense. No, though. Angriest parts of the angriest book of the angriest half of the bible. That and being called something I am actually not.
I am an infidel.
I am a very proud infidel, but one who isn't trying to convert everyone.
I am not a heathen. They are pagans who worship germanic or scandanavian gods or godesses.
I am technically a Pagan, but not really. I am only a Pagan in the sense that I do not worship the Abrahamic god. I instead worship no god.
I am not a heretic. I have been called this as well by the way, by someone who asked me if I had found Jesus. I said no, and pulled out my copy of The God Delusion to do some counter-proselytizing. At this point I was given a terribly dirty look, and was called a heretic.
Strictly speaking, a heretic would have to believe in a god to begin with. I would then be branded a heretic, and promptly excommunicated.
I am an infidel, I deny the divinity of Jesus, I reject the notion that there is any sort of god.
Frankly I think the politically correct term, regardless of what word may actually be correct is simply an atheist.
Until next time...
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Answer My Question
Question:
0111001101101001001000000110000101110111011010000
11101000010000001101001011011010111010101101001011
0000101110100011101000110111000100000011001100110
111100100000011011010111001001100010011101010110111
0011001010010000001100101011101000110100000100000
011000110110110101110100011000010110111101101001
It is a continuous string of numbers, edited so it can fit cleanly on the screen. Solve it if you can.
Until next time...
0111001101101001001000000110000101110111011010000
11101000010000001101001011011010111010101101001011
0000101110100011101000110111000100000011001100110
111100100000011011010111001001100010011101010110111
0011001010010000001100101011101000110100000100000
011000110110110101110100011000010110111101101001
It is a continuous string of numbers, edited so it can fit cleanly on the screen. Solve it if you can.
Until next time...
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Hiatus
I don't like posting as much as I used to, this is a simple fact. I do not have the motivation to do it, I do not have the time to do it, and I do not have the material. The incentives for me to post have been ripped away from me steadily over the course of my time posting here. This has made it so that it is no longer enjoyable to post my feelings in this forum. It is far better for me to not mention any of them, because the 'conversations' that I am forced to have with certain people, feels more like some sort of inquisition, and it feels that my points of view are scrutinized unduly.
I do not enjoy writing when I have to be censored. This is a simple fact. I like being able to rant and rave about whatever thing makes me angry, or sad, or simply makes me laugh; without my viewpoint being belittled, or thought of as irrational. I do not like having to defend my viewpoint itself, simply because someone does not agree with it. I like saying I am pissed off at my parents if I am pissed off at my parents. I like being able to say exactly how my brother has struck my last nerve if I want. I want to be able to tell whatever fraction of the world reads this whatever I want, whenever I want, moderated only by what I feel is right.
Obviously that's not going to happen, it's ridiculous, and more than a bit selfish to actually go ahead and do it. One must censor themselves a bit. They would alienate everyone around themselves otherwise. I would however like to be able to not be attacked for some posts that I make, and belittled for others.
On occasion I will make a post. Something innocuous, but what will end up happening, is that I will have to engage in talk after talk about some small part of what I discussed in the post. Something that after posting, I feel better about, or I have no desire to discuss. Other times, I'll post a fairly blatant concern, and I will never hear the end of it, especially if it strikes a chord with those around me.
Not every post is directed at everyone, many are directed at absolutely nobody in particular. Some are just done for my benefit, to make me feel better. Once I post them, I usually have no further desire to talk about the issue. I frankly do not like talking about what I write about more often than not. I am not good at verbalizing my thoughts. It takes me too long, and I end up tripping over my words. Whereas when I write, I can plan out each statement before I submit it.
I have tried other options, not posting, posting under private mode, and simply posting elsewhere, and what the problem always is, is that I enjoy the illusion that other people outside my circle of friends and family could read this. I obviously do not suffer under this illusion, but the fact is, the chance that someone could happen upon my writing, is a motivator to write. The problem though is, that I like writing as Robert Clark, and not any of my online aliases. It makes it more personal for me, but sadly brings it home to those around me.
So it is with this, that I announce an indefinite hiatus from posting, until I can figure out what I am going to do. I may post during this time, but I doubt it.
I don't enjoy the pressure I feel whenever I post. I do not enjoy not being able to express myself, and I don't enjoy having my feelings scrutinized. There are certainly positives, but in my mind at least, the cons outweigh the pros.
Until next time...
I do not enjoy writing when I have to be censored. This is a simple fact. I like being able to rant and rave about whatever thing makes me angry, or sad, or simply makes me laugh; without my viewpoint being belittled, or thought of as irrational. I do not like having to defend my viewpoint itself, simply because someone does not agree with it. I like saying I am pissed off at my parents if I am pissed off at my parents. I like being able to say exactly how my brother has struck my last nerve if I want. I want to be able to tell whatever fraction of the world reads this whatever I want, whenever I want, moderated only by what I feel is right.
Obviously that's not going to happen, it's ridiculous, and more than a bit selfish to actually go ahead and do it. One must censor themselves a bit. They would alienate everyone around themselves otherwise. I would however like to be able to not be attacked for some posts that I make, and belittled for others.
On occasion I will make a post. Something innocuous, but what will end up happening, is that I will have to engage in talk after talk about some small part of what I discussed in the post. Something that after posting, I feel better about, or I have no desire to discuss. Other times, I'll post a fairly blatant concern, and I will never hear the end of it, especially if it strikes a chord with those around me.
Not every post is directed at everyone, many are directed at absolutely nobody in particular. Some are just done for my benefit, to make me feel better. Once I post them, I usually have no further desire to talk about the issue. I frankly do not like talking about what I write about more often than not. I am not good at verbalizing my thoughts. It takes me too long, and I end up tripping over my words. Whereas when I write, I can plan out each statement before I submit it.
I have tried other options, not posting, posting under private mode, and simply posting elsewhere, and what the problem always is, is that I enjoy the illusion that other people outside my circle of friends and family could read this. I obviously do not suffer under this illusion, but the fact is, the chance that someone could happen upon my writing, is a motivator to write. The problem though is, that I like writing as Robert Clark, and not any of my online aliases. It makes it more personal for me, but sadly brings it home to those around me.
So it is with this, that I announce an indefinite hiatus from posting, until I can figure out what I am going to do. I may post during this time, but I doubt it.
I don't enjoy the pressure I feel whenever I post. I do not enjoy not being able to express myself, and I don't enjoy having my feelings scrutinized. There are certainly positives, but in my mind at least, the cons outweigh the pros.
Until next time...
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Work Ethics
My brother Scott is insane. Today, he worked for fifteen hours, give or take a few hours, and in the process took one pitiful half hour break.
Like I said, my brother is insane.
I may rag on him a lot, say he pisses me off to no end, and he would respond to this with some variation on the word "likewise", but one thing i can never impugn is his work ethic. His dedication to his job, to his workplace, and to his company, is beyond reproach, and is something that not only I, but most workers should aspire to. He goes in early, he stays late, he works shifts that last more than ten hours on a weekly basis, and he works at a Harvey's.
Harvey's for crying out loud. He is not a financial accountant, he is not the chief executive officer of a major corporation, he is not even the manager. He is the pseudo-assistant manager, or more officially, the acting assistant supervising manager. He's seventeen, and he already does the work of an assistant manager.
For this hard work, how much does he make, might you ask. My brother, who does all this work, who is trusted with the financial information of his store, who is trusted with all the confidential files of his Harvey's location, makes eight dollars and twenty five cents per hour.
$8.25/hour.
He leads his workplace's health and safety board, he does all this work, he puts up with the endless streams of crap from both his customers, and his coworkers, and for all that, he makes a pittance. A measly eight dollars and change, in return for each and every hour of his life that he spends in the nook of the Home depot.
So yes, for those in the world that say that my generation is lazy, you may all stand up and take notice of people like my brother. For all of those who would say that my generation has no work ethic, again I say to look to my brother, and all those like him. To take shots at an entire group of people, without regards to those who are truly exceptional is wrong. It is just as bigoted as any form of discrimination.
You make me proud to be your brother, Scott. I just hope you know that. For all the joking, for all the fighting, and for all the animosity that often exists between us, I hope you know that.
Until next time...
Like I said, my brother is insane.
I may rag on him a lot, say he pisses me off to no end, and he would respond to this with some variation on the word "likewise", but one thing i can never impugn is his work ethic. His dedication to his job, to his workplace, and to his company, is beyond reproach, and is something that not only I, but most workers should aspire to. He goes in early, he stays late, he works shifts that last more than ten hours on a weekly basis, and he works at a Harvey's.
Harvey's for crying out loud. He is not a financial accountant, he is not the chief executive officer of a major corporation, he is not even the manager. He is the pseudo-assistant manager, or more officially, the acting assistant supervising manager. He's seventeen, and he already does the work of an assistant manager.
For this hard work, how much does he make, might you ask. My brother, who does all this work, who is trusted with the financial information of his store, who is trusted with all the confidential files of his Harvey's location, makes eight dollars and twenty five cents per hour.
$8.25/hour.
He leads his workplace's health and safety board, he does all this work, he puts up with the endless streams of crap from both his customers, and his coworkers, and for all that, he makes a pittance. A measly eight dollars and change, in return for each and every hour of his life that he spends in the nook of the Home depot.
So yes, for those in the world that say that my generation is lazy, you may all stand up and take notice of people like my brother. For all of those who would say that my generation has no work ethic, again I say to look to my brother, and all those like him. To take shots at an entire group of people, without regards to those who are truly exceptional is wrong. It is just as bigoted as any form of discrimination.
You make me proud to be your brother, Scott. I just hope you know that. For all the joking, for all the fighting, and for all the animosity that often exists between us, I hope you know that.
Until next time...
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Screw you, Hallmark!
So I think I've come up with a great plan to avoid giving Hallmark and Carlton Cards any further money. I figure that over the years I have spend four dollars or so on cards at least a few dozen times.
So from now on, rather than do that, I will spend five dollars, and do the following:
Until next time...
So from now on, rather than do that, I will spend five dollars, and do the following:
- Get a crisp five dollar bill.
- Get a small square envelope.
- Write on the five dollar bill "Happy [occasion], Love [Your Name]". Do this preferably with a Sharpie.
- Fold it neatly and put it in the envelope.
- Seal the envelope and give it to them with the envelope.
- You aren't giving money to Hallmark, you are instead giving it to someone you care about.
- They will think it is a neat idea.
- In some cases, it costs less than the card.
- They will get some use out of their "card"
- You get the added satisfaction of wondering what the next person getting this five dollar bill will think when they read the message.
Until next time...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Extenuating Circumstances
Well, I have discovered an ever so slight flaw in the system at my university. With regards to missed assignments and midterms, the only two acceptable excuses are a death in the family, or an illness.
Now as some of you may know, I got into a car accident last Tuesday, thereby preventing me from handing in an assignment. I had to wait more than three hours for the police to arrive, as the damage seemed to be over a thousand dollars.
Apparently, having to wait for police, as the law requires, is not a valid excuse at the University of Ontario Institute of Technology. They expect you to break the law, either that, or they are punishing me for getting rear ended.
This is patently ridiculous, it is fundamentally wrong, and it is some sort of legal action waiting to happen, whether it be damages for failing the course, an injunction of some sort, or some punitive damages of some variety. I know we are not an overly litigious nation, but some things need to be stood up for, some battles need to be fought.
Myself, I shall be letting this one slide. The amount of effort, and the reality that I ended up leaving about twenty minutes before police arrived, so I could attend my computer science midterm, prevents me from being able to prove it anyways.
The bureacracy is seriously getting on my nerves.
Until next time...
Now as some of you may know, I got into a car accident last Tuesday, thereby preventing me from handing in an assignment. I had to wait more than three hours for the police to arrive, as the damage seemed to be over a thousand dollars.
Apparently, having to wait for police, as the law requires, is not a valid excuse at the University of Ontario Institute of Technology. They expect you to break the law, either that, or they are punishing me for getting rear ended.
This is patently ridiculous, it is fundamentally wrong, and it is some sort of legal action waiting to happen, whether it be damages for failing the course, an injunction of some sort, or some punitive damages of some variety. I know we are not an overly litigious nation, but some things need to be stood up for, some battles need to be fought.
Myself, I shall be letting this one slide. The amount of effort, and the reality that I ended up leaving about twenty minutes before police arrived, so I could attend my computer science midterm, prevents me from being able to prove it anyways.
The bureacracy is seriously getting on my nerves.
Until next time...
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Life in General
I just don't know what I'm doing lately. It seems like I've been going through the motions for some time now, and I simply do not know what to say, or do to change this. I think I've come to the conclusion that while I do need a change in my life, I'm unsure as to what change that may be, or whether I could handle it.
Of course, I say this in the wake of a car accident that has shaken me up, quite honestly, and made me paranoid of other cars on the road. This disruption to my normal routine just has me so frustrated, but still, at the same time, has left me wanting to shake things up a bit more. To make some sort of change while the mood is there.
I don't know, I think that honestly, I've known what I wanted for some time, and despite the suggestions of others, saying it is easy, that I just need to put myself out there. I suck at meeting new people. I have trouble relating to them, and I get the feeling that I come off as looking standoffish. More to the point, as much as I desire to find a relationship that has meaning, like some of my friends have, I lack both the social finesse, and the confidence to seek this out.
I don't know.
In other news, my education mark has come back, and it turns out I got a B-. Not a stellar mark, but nothing to be ashamed of. It wont be long until I manage to get off of probation. Perhaps only until the end of my next semester.
I worry about the future a lot. In the light of day, I often think that things will be fine, but then I'll stay up at night, trying to figure out where I need to go from here. I try to keep up my marks, stay ahead in school, but what's coming worries me. They say it all the time: Que sera... sera. But, que sera?
Until next time...
Of course, I say this in the wake of a car accident that has shaken me up, quite honestly, and made me paranoid of other cars on the road. This disruption to my normal routine just has me so frustrated, but still, at the same time, has left me wanting to shake things up a bit more. To make some sort of change while the mood is there.
I don't know, I think that honestly, I've known what I wanted for some time, and despite the suggestions of others, saying it is easy, that I just need to put myself out there. I suck at meeting new people. I have trouble relating to them, and I get the feeling that I come off as looking standoffish. More to the point, as much as I desire to find a relationship that has meaning, like some of my friends have, I lack both the social finesse, and the confidence to seek this out.
I don't know.
In other news, my education mark has come back, and it turns out I got a B-. Not a stellar mark, but nothing to be ashamed of. It wont be long until I manage to get off of probation. Perhaps only until the end of my next semester.
I worry about the future a lot. In the light of day, I often think that things will be fine, but then I'll stay up at night, trying to figure out where I need to go from here. I try to keep up my marks, stay ahead in school, but what's coming worries me. They say it all the time: Que sera... sera. But, que sera?
Until next time...
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
I Hate Other Drivers
Well today has just been a stellar one.
First, I get a headache first thing in the morning, so that takes me down for my calculus lecture. During this period, my brothers proceed to wake me up every twenty or so minutes, as for some strange reason, they made a point not to go to school.
Second, after I drive them into school, at about noon, and go to KFC for a quick bite to eat, I accidentally leave my backpack, including my laptop, on the seat at the restaurant. I realize this a few minutes later up the road. I decide to slow down and use a school as a place to turn around.
Finally, as I slow, a van comes up from behind and slams into me. This shatters my tail light covers, as well as making it so that the trunk wont close flush with the car. Lovely. I waited there for two and a half hours, in which the cops failed to respond.
I am having a lovely day.
Until next time...
First, I get a headache first thing in the morning, so that takes me down for my calculus lecture. During this period, my brothers proceed to wake me up every twenty or so minutes, as for some strange reason, they made a point not to go to school.
Second, after I drive them into school, at about noon, and go to KFC for a quick bite to eat, I accidentally leave my backpack, including my laptop, on the seat at the restaurant. I realize this a few minutes later up the road. I decide to slow down and use a school as a place to turn around.
Finally, as I slow, a van comes up from behind and slams into me. This shatters my tail light covers, as well as making it so that the trunk wont close flush with the car. Lovely. I waited there for two and a half hours, in which the cops failed to respond.
I am having a lovely day.
Until next time...
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Take That Chemistry
Take that chemistry! You think you're so tough, what with your chemicals, and your acids, but in reality you've got nothing. You pale in comparison to the pure might of physics and math. You try to act cool by throwing in some math in your balancing of equations, but you are in reality, a hard science wannabe.
So I say, do your worst, give me the worst midterms, the worst exams, the hardest questions. I'll ace them all, just like I probably did this one. So I say again, I shall win over you. You will not be victorious. When all the dust settles, and only one emerges in a cloud of pride and knowledge, it will be me.
For all your initial trouble you gave me, you were really nothing.
Until next time...
So I say, do your worst, give me the worst midterms, the worst exams, the hardest questions. I'll ace them all, just like I probably did this one. So I say again, I shall win over you. You will not be victorious. When all the dust settles, and only one emerges in a cloud of pride and knowledge, it will be me.
For all your initial trouble you gave me, you were really nothing.
Until next time...
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Pseudorandom Numbers
I have just engaged in a particularly pointless debate with one of my friends, on the relative randomness of varying small numbers, picked from the natural set. The debate primarily consisted of us attempting to determine what truly made a number more or less random.
Obviously, larger numbers seem more random, when taking into consideration the vastness of infinity, but in the end, when looking towards the end of infinity, one billion seems just as far away from it as one does. This is where my assertion comes in that some numbers 'seem' more random than other.
I maintain the following points:
This of course is a load of malarkey, as truly random numbers cannot be generated, due to humans having bias, and computers not being able to produce anything but pseudorandom numbers.
For those that do not believe that they cannot produce random numbers, I challenge you to do the following: Begin saying random digits; at some point a pattern will form, or you will favour certain digits. While of course those pseudorandom numbers are sufficient, they are not ideal.
Pseudorandom numbers usually have all the characteristics of a random number, but it still begs the question, of how one would truly acheive a random value.
Until next time...
Obviously, larger numbers seem more random, when taking into consideration the vastness of infinity, but in the end, when looking towards the end of infinity, one billion seems just as far away from it as one does. This is where my assertion comes in that some numbers 'seem' more random than other.
I maintain the following points:
- Odd numbers seem more random than even ones.
- Prime numbers seem more random than composite.
- There should not be an abundance of any particular digit.
- There should be a odd:even digit ratio of slightly over one.
- And finally, it should have that ring of just having been pulled out of thin air.
This of course is a load of malarkey, as truly random numbers cannot be generated, due to humans having bias, and computers not being able to produce anything but pseudorandom numbers.
For those that do not believe that they cannot produce random numbers, I challenge you to do the following: Begin saying random digits; at some point a pattern will form, or you will favour certain digits. While of course those pseudorandom numbers are sufficient, they are not ideal.
Pseudorandom numbers usually have all the characteristics of a random number, but it still begs the question, of how one would truly acheive a random value.
Until next time...
Saturday, May 05, 2007
End of Semester
I have come to the end of my second semester, and done fairly well, at least considering the one previous. I am proud of my marks, and while I feel that I may have been able to do better in physics, that my calculus mark truly represents my best work I could have done.
Calculus mark: A-
Physics mark: C+
As of current, my education mark is still a mystery, but it should be up sometime in summer school.
As for summer school, I will be taking Scientific Computing Tools, Chemistry 1, Chemistry 2, and Calculus 2. I feel that I should do all right in all of these. I cannot wait until I finish this year altogether.
Until next time...
Calculus mark: A-
Physics mark: C+
As of current, my education mark is still a mystery, but it should be up sometime in summer school.
As for summer school, I will be taking Scientific Computing Tools, Chemistry 1, Chemistry 2, and Calculus 2. I feel that I should do all right in all of these. I cannot wait until I finish this year altogether.
Until next time...
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