The grasp of the virtual.

Year after year, the virtual world becomes more and more... developed, and complicated, and brilliant new ideas spring up, and more information becomes available to more people.

How will we survive?

I have optimism - the human soul can overcome all these challenges that the brain is faced with, barricades and flows of data, of sensory input. The overload of information that we are faced with, the myriad of mental dysfunctions that the psyche-actresses (I really love this word that I've transmogrified) have to deal with every day.


I think the human essence/the human soul aren't really related to sensory information, there's a distinction there. You can -feel- alive, but is that -feeling- a sense? A sense of being alive? Can you sense your existence in much the same way that you can feel picking up a piece of paper and taking a pen to write something down?

To put things into perspective: Today, after waking up and noticing that AGAIN my beautiful and yet irritating computer had decided not to make the connection to the internet, I spent a couple hours just trying to get a permanent fix so that I never have to wait for my internet connection to reconnect when I reboot/sleep my computer.

And I couldn't connect to the internet, it sucked, I wanted to check my e-mail (and maybe Facebook, I admit), and just be assured that I could contact people if perchance someone finally invited me to go somewhere (out of this place).

So in frustration, I made a wise choice and picked up my bicycle helmet and my "equal-to-my-computer" beautiful bike, and rode east, with very little to no destination in mind. It was a great day to do this, no clouds, and it was always sunny.

The only two things that really bothered me were:
a) Knowing I'd have to (or that I would) deal with the virtual world when I came back and
b) The snow on the side of the road that made it difficult for me to have enough space to navigate with the car-people (very few truck-monsters, luckily)

Otherwise, I have NOTHING but positive things to say about my hour-and-a-half trip through east-of-this-house Toronto.

If you're curious, I made a very rough path on Google Maps of the trip that I made.


View Escape from Internet Failure in a larger map


Anyway. It's kind of really depressing that this blog entry was meant to illustrate how there are ways to escape/ignore/get rid of the grasp that the ever-advancing technological pollution has on our existence.


But this blog isn't solely for me, it's for you out there, whoever you are, and that's why I keep writing and that's why I keep existing.


I'm wearing my purple magician's sweater, so I thought I'd add even more multimedia to this post, and to wrap it up:

Karma Aspiration Linger Entity Iodinic Daringless Overcast Ulysse Grievous Hawt Spectrum Citronelle Ophilia Philharmonikally Eyesfull


 P.S. So I finally got a webcam after years and years of wanting one. I have this cognitive dissonant space in my head: On one hand, I want to share my ideas, but on the other, there's so much crap online already.
Oh well, I'll let some database engineer worry about it. :)

An ode to long hair

I once audited an English class at Dalhousie where the poet-teacher explained what an ode was. I don't really remember the definition, but who needs those anyway? Not on my blog.
---
Long hair, I miss thee
Why must you have been so cruelly cut away not by the greed, but by the need for
Recognition among those who so lovingly wanted thee to be someone shorter indeed

I miss your ends split among thieves, the girls who couldn't resist the urge to electrify
The ones who decrepify my fear of being too close, too near to the touch of another soul
And so why must I wait, so patiently and yet so carelessly, and yet...

You once represented my jealousy that I could perceive with too much clarity
I cut you off by the pressures of others who couldn't resist the urge to taunt me

We could have been together forever
You ruined it now
I hope you sleep and I know you've dreamt it
And when the memories bring back the emotional flood
Remember this:
This too, will pass.
---
Who knew my hair could have so much character?

An inventory of being right before insanity.

Unit 1 Lesson 5

Part A)

I am Gabriel.

I am 19 years old; never feel like I’m in the mould.

I live my life as simply as I can, but I can’t stay simple in this complex world.

I like computers; it’s a little too much sometimes, makes me feel like a robot.

I like a variety of foods, but the delicious scent of curry is what makes my mouth water.

My identity is in shambles, maybe that’s because my family is a little lost too.

I hope for better days to come ahead; fitting in with people just as lost as I am.

I try to listen to my own ideas, but too often they become clouded with others’.

I’m scared of losing myself in the big rat race.

As if I could ever find my way out of this maze; this life.

I’ve stopped watching TV, the shows can’t make me believe what I see.

Can’t handwrite too well, all topsy-turvy and mixed with crude capitals.

I don’t believe in God, but I do believe that the universe supports me.

Once I believed in free love, and grew my hair just like the hippies.

Cut my hair off, gave it to charity, made a cancer victim somewhere out there pretty happy.

Sometimes my brain gets ahead of me; can’t quite say out loud what I mean to say.

I’m sickened by the consumerist lifestyle; wish I could escape from this ailing society.

All these celebrities being praised for what they do.

When really I’m my own celebrity, consciously deciding what’s best for me and sometimes the people around me.

I avoid passing quick judgements about others, scared that they’ll do the same to me.

I might live off ramen noodles, but I try and stick to the fruits and veggies.

After all, being healthy is what life is all about.

If you can’t be healthy, you can’t function to your best ability in society.

At least that’s what my mother told me.

I am Gabriel, and this is 2010.

Karma Aspiration Linger Entity Iodinic Darwyn Overcast Unlamine Grievous Hawt Spectroom Caraoke Overwhelming Parlamore Everdrawn

I never finished my correspondence english course.

I thought it was stupid.

And it is.

Oh, and the 6th line from the bottom is almost wholly inaccurate for the sake of healthiness. Maybe it explains the title of this blog post.

Dear valentine

Dear blog,

What are you if not my valentine for the day? What am I to do, if not to propose to you that you be my valentine?

At the rocks at the Ravine this morning, I tried to find, but especially see something that might give me a meaning for today. It would have been nice to ask one of them to be my valentine, but the reciprocation wouldn't have been there, as they see so many people, teenager loiterers and dog walker extraordinaires; I don't think I could have stood out nearly as much as I think I should at a place like that.

Where am I to go to express my valentine's love on days where the formal worlds that I once used to go to are no longer there, too busy being taken up by new, uncanny visitors, some who, like me, tend to linger in places where they might find a glimmer of connection, a spark of faith in having people to share idea(l)s with.

Maybe commas and me should elope somewhere, they might give me better room to breathe.

Until then, won't someone adopt me and my hidden valentine? I can cook, clean (within limits), and entertain. Oh, and I'm pretty good at a variety of games, especially the video kind, and I like to learn about anything that has potential. Even philosophy. I couldn't be bothered to knit nor go alpine skiing, though.

Karma Aspiration Linger Entity Iodinic Darwyn Overcast Unlamine Grievous Hawt Spectroom Caraoke Overwhelming Parlamore Everdrawn

The truths of snow white sorrow

(((Edit: This is free writing, segment the second, but with a title)))

Dreams and the aspirations of things that float by/
I wish I had more craftily ideas of words to pick from I sometimes want to not go back in time but relive the moments of schooling in the past that I could have possibly excelled @/
had I been more trusting of the world that I find myself breathing in

And if my communicative writing style how does it happen that anticipating of beings in things in themselves continue to find ways to stop to not stop the flow of things; it's like trying to be something that isn't transcripted from my screened mind onto paper

I hate how giberjabberish is perceived as being flawed even by my self conscious perception of what is there to cee


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Bubbles and other domains

I had a thought instilled in me at one point, about people and their bubbles ; aka, their personal space. People, generally speaking, like having their own space that they can call their own. This space could be physical, mental, emotional, all of those words that end in al.


My biggest bubble used to be my computer and the connections that go through it, whether through games, communication, research, but I've come to realize that this bubble is so big, so massive, that I can't really find the edges of it; the ends of it. 


And so my bubble in the world that doesn't happen through the computer, that happens in my head and with the outside stimulus is... scary. I can share it sometimes, but there's always a fear that my bubble just isn't real(istic).


So I spend time travelling to other bubbles, hoping that they can accept me, but acceptance is hard to find.

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Preparation is sometimes so terrifying.

Ever notice that when you have things that you really want to do, you sometimes find yourself limiting your choices because you're afraid that things won't work out quite the way you want them to?

Happens to me a lot, and it's sometimes rather frightening. Setting barriers that interfere with goals (I really hate this word, it makes me feel so lost in the worlds that I chance upon).