Segue equivocation into Grammatical commentary

Oh hey, I think it's another one of those "it doesn't matter what you write as long as you write" kind of posts, so I better watch out how I'm going to format this one lest someone try to infer some deeper meaning from the stylistic choices that I make about how I write and present said writing.

I'm in a slowed-down reality because although I'm pretty much doing some freewriting/free-journaling again, it won't purely be this method because I'm using pen and paper first and then transcribing onto the screen. Thus my idea-to-writ time has changed.
I type much faster than I write and that's a double-edged sword because, generally speaking, this difference in speed enables me to publish a lot of junkspeedily-typed things out there - sometimes even imaginary words - and it also enables me to be far more efficient, if not prolific.

Un des chats qui m'apporte un support moral sans équivoque avec ma vie d'écrivain non-payé

Words, clouds, lists, material

I learned a technique a few years ago. It's not a particularly secret or innovative mode of behaviour, but because it was explicitly taught to me by a group facilitator and our collective temporally-conscious inputs as group members at one of the many support groups I've attended in the Big Smoke, it holds a special place in my hippocampus (or wherever it is that long-term memories are stored; I know and remember that it's not Broca's area).

Anyway all you need is a 1 pen, 2 paper, 3 the capacity to write lines & words, and 4 a meticulous, obsessive, goal-driven personality that constantly bombasts you with curious ideas that seldom mesh together except in the nether realm, like a series of bad staccato notes slightly off-tune from one another, written on the walls of an empty, desolate, and capitalistically barren grand piano ballroom - think a mix of Mr. Kalorium's Lonely Western Shoppe and a dusty composer's den. That or an automaton who can do it for you.

If you meet only 3/4 requirements for the technique, that's okay: you might get some benefit out of it just the same, but beyond the 50% and I make zero claims as to the efficacy of this technique for countering boredom and the growing unease at the lack of balance between your ego and your id.

You make lists.
It doesn't matter when.
This is a list.
But it's a faiku.
And then you cross off things that are done.
Again it doesn't matter when but convention seems to indicate that it's a good idea to cross something off at the end of the day, or, if you're feeling bold & disorganized like I sometimes just am, at the end of the week, fortnight, month, and - do I dare dream - the end of the year.

Anyway that's the technique that I claim as my own to make me feel like I accomplished something during some of my downspiral, Laura days. Remember her, reader?

Drawing art seems to help, too, just don't go submitting your *ahem* early works to OCAD anytime soon or else I might have some competition for my loosely abstract representation of what it's like to be a materialist obsessed with sounding cool in english. Or like, whatever, man.

Sharpie on construction paper

Happy chair-tonique: Partie un + deux + trois

Why does no one in the city care about health?

Partie 1 - Friday the last of November


Aside from the fact that Hayley sings to "stop asking why" and the fact that some of my voices are making it incredibly difficult to focus, I think it's completely bonkers that adults who care about their mind & body get completely shafted by corporations. I'll give you three examples. Pardon the grammar - as usual, what.

If I want to practice yoga in a clean (read: free from cat dandruff), fresh, and safe studio, I have to pay upwards of $12 for simply doing my thing and I can't bring my own food because it tends to smell too offensive to the vegan + vegetarian crowd that, last I checked, was a majority in these places. And I think wool is an awesome material.

If I want to meet new people at cool hangout spots, they all sell overpriced junk like beer, grain-based foods (too much popcorn, man...), and otherwise high-carb frankenfoods that usually cause long-term dysfunction in the brain.

If I want to play a new sport, even the community centres cost me too much: there used to be drop-in programs that were free. The only cost was your time spent enjoying community, team-based games, and if the government employees didn't set up the space, it was not a problem to set it up yourself - as long as you cleaned up after so that the the next eager facility users wouldn't grumble.

I know! I need decent, enjoyable, good-stress work in Toronto. The problem is I spend(t) my money on stupidly overpriced things like the aforementioned junk foods and - let's be honest - stupidly overpriced marijuana and vaporizers (and their accessories) last time I had a job and I'm desperately trying to save to lead a less stressful life - in the future, whatever that is.

I love gaming. Why is no one (read: my empty social life) into the same things I'm into like card games without lattes, or tabletop games without acohol, or even PC games without lonely individual booths? More importantly (for many of you), why is all the food at 90% of the Toronto & bar buildings just NOT good for me (and consequently, you)? Why does no one care about their health just like I do? It just ain't right, and no one believes in the power of food to heal as opposed to sustain or harm. It's sickening that it's so hard to find a place to enjoy my favourite hobbies with others who are also part of the human family (and personal social fabric).

-Part one is drawing to a close-

L'action de merci

Happy (American) Thanksgiving!

I've been thinking about continuing with my gratitude journal.
I think that many people might argue that being thankful only once a year might not be conducive to being happy all the time.
Does it necessarily follow that being thankful every day of every year will lead to more happiness?
According to one robust source, it can.

A funny dilemma spurred this blog post. On the one hand, the above source mentions reduced materialism as a positive side effect of keeping a gratitude journal. On the other, I need to locate or buy a new gratitude journal to write in; this makes me wonder if I'm being materialistic by offloading my gratitude journal to my blog.

You and I might know that I promise things in writing that I don't often follow through on. If you look back at some of my posts, some of them ancient, some of them recent, you will have a hard time finding patterns. That's because I'm constantly reinventing myself, and I'm thankful that I have the time to pretty much compose whatever I want, whenever I want whilst my basic living expenses are paid for - for the most part - by my nuclear family.

Alors aujourd'hui, pour l'action de grâce américaine, je remercis les ainés dans ma vie, et j'exprime de la gratitude pour le fait que j'ai un emplacement quasi-sacré où je peux m'exprimer sans être attaqué par des gens que je ne connais pas.

Since I'm 99% canadian, it's difficult for me to speak about a holiday that I don't really relate to. So I will continue to write about my daily life, and in doing so, I hope you will be inspired to, mayhaps, take up writing as a hobby.

Medicontemplate

I dread meditation. I really do. I've read hundreds of pages about it and I still dread the word. Notwithstanding the fact that I practice it on a semi-regular basis - usually in the mornings (because the elders tell me it's easier to do it then), it's just too mainstream for me to feel cool about it.
I prefer not to think about it because I fear that I will mess up a tradition that sounds an awful lot like the word "medication".

Have you taken your meditation today, Mr. Ghoule?
No, I'm afraid not.
Oh? Why not?
My back hurts like mad, goddamn you, and all these chairs are made for either older or shorter people.
Just follow your breath!
Yeah, but my diaphragm is weak because of all the -cold substances- that were drawn in by it and my throat is sore from all the anti-meditative states I find myself in and, furthermore, the echoing voices I constantly cannot ignore do not care about what I see; they only care about what I feel.
Just let the breath flow naturally.
-_- 

---

I can't believe people get paid to instruct people how to breathe.

Souvenirs day of it

I walked - that's a given.
J'ai marché - c'est sûr et certain.

J'ai trouvé un évènement dans le magazine NOW: une marche guidée à Toronto pour se rappeler du "Women's Mounted Land Army, 1919". J'ai découvert que cette marche se passait dans mon coin, et, en 15 minutes (ou moins), j'ai décidé de m'y rendre tout habillé en mode hiver et... rien.

Personne. Well, there were people, and it seemed like a walker might have been there for said event, but she continued on her way. There was a backpacker, with patchouli backpacks and a movable plus-sized basket, but he continued along the way.

Je ne regrettes pas m'y être rendu car la neige était follement douce, et marcher comme un pinguin m'a fait du bien.