Feelin' alright on a Fursday Night

So I have 3 cats. They're actually all really nice felines, but only if you know them real well.

As a stranger, you'll never really get to see cat #1. It's 'cause he's black.

You might get to see cat #2. He's somewhat friendly; but he generally keeps his distance. Still, if you want to pet him, all you gotta do is scratch him gently under the chin. Careful though. More than 75 seconds of that, and you'll probably get bitten.

Cat #3 will come over and meow and meow and meow. And welcome you to my domain. He's super nice. Like, I can't think of a nicer cat. The typical fat orange nice cat, you know? I bet he'd do standup if he could.

Why am I talking about cats?

I was pretty much raised by them from the age of 7 onwards. Or whatever year Elvis Stojko won that gold medal.

Reowr.

-Gabe

Trust a peppermint teacup

You can do whatever you want. Well, you can try to do whatever you want. Sometimes you get stopped from doing what you want, and that's more than okay. And sometimes you get nothing at all like what you want. And that happens.

You always build trust. It is a procedure. It is a protocol that must be followed. You cannot blindly trust what you feel or think. Basic philosophy, I guess.

So, then, you test things. But you test things in a nice way. You don't test, then conclude, then test, and conclude, and test, and conclude, and conclude, and test. Basic science, I guess.

Some people say mean things. All people say mean things sometimes. No one is always nice. No one can possibly always be mean... can they? That can't be a reality that exists. It would make no sense.

I should end this weird post with a lame joke I took from a book (that someone spilled coffee on) that I don't want to read anymore because it's spoiled.

Things don't make much cents today.
But they'll make dollars someday.

-Gabriel

On the path again

Sooooo, I could write a long detailed post and for once, my fingers are about the same speed as my brain. So I could. I could write a lot.

But I'm sort of in a hurry to go outside and get some vitamin D. No, seriously, I'm super deficient, I'm sure. And although I feel -okay-, I know I will feel better in 15 minutes when my skin absorbs the sun rays and turns them into Vitamin D. Pretty incredible stuff.

-

I walked home from Yonge-Eg last night, partly through the Beltline, and I felt free. Maybe not as free as Halifax, but free from... you know, the darkness or whatever.
Funny I mention the darkness; it was pitch black at times, and the darker it got, the more real I became.

Anyway, no elaborate storytelling today.

But it'll come.

Soon.

-GW

A misty grey cloud boom

She writes on a golden brown table with the black machine in front of her. In her head, all around her are objects, things, concretes that cannot be seen through. Her hands move with male elegance lacking direction.

The lights around her are meaningless; she gets up to turn them off, but the Matrix turns them back on again anyway. She feels bored. He feels alone. Do they even exist?

Nonsensical questions that torment my mind and make me feel sad never end up sticking around for very long, but when they do, it is a hell without fire or ice.

So they take my spirit, feed her grey matter; kick her out, limping all the way home hoping a friend will come say hello. Instead, an appointment with dentists, optometrists, social workers. But where is the happiness?

The mood stabilization that occurs when the meds kick in drive away all the ecstasies and the dullness settles in.

Being a 24 year old is HARD. But ultimately, it'll get better.

Gabriel(le)