I went to the Clocktower with Aaron and Wheaties yesterday, to celebrate the birthdays of Sheri, Thom, Matt, and Marc. It was much fun, although I remained sober for the night. I tried my hand at pool, a skill which I think many develop when attending university, since there were so many amazing players who were my friends as well. I felt a bit bad about not buying some shots for the birthday people, and for ditching Wheaties in spliting a second pitcher of anything.

I’ve been decently busy lately. Assignments are due shortly. Games remain as addictive as ever.

I’ve been weaning off my Neverwinter Nights habit in the last week, and I’ve been gaming in moderation. I was out of balance a little while ago, but I seem to have regained it now.

I downloaded Ringu, the Japanese horror movie that was remade as The Ring in North America. Apparently, the Japanese version was much more frightening than the toned down American version, much like Jacky Chan’s fight scenes, I suspect. I’m still hesitant to watch it; I don’t like horror movies in general as they tend to cause a great lack of sleep during the following week, and this movie is supposed to be legendary in it’s ability to cause such an affliction. Even the fucking box cover scares me. I guess that if there’s a week that I need to get a lot of work done, I could use the movie as a sort of caffeine substitute.

I spoke with my supervisor about a proposal. For my final project, I’ll be trying to calculate the time complexity of solving a Rubik’s cube. There seems to be a rich set of literature documenting various algorithms and solutions for solving one in optimal time, so I think that I’ll have my work cut out for me. I’ve never been very good at solving Rubik’s cubes, since I never owned one. In the last few days I’ve been spending some time in understanding the logic behind the moves, and I’ve been able to solve it twice, with some online help. The radial tendon in my wrist seems to be suffering, however, with a slight pinched feeling, so I’m going to be restraining myself in fiddling with the cube over the next few days.

I’ve been looking for a condo to buy, but there doesn’t seem to be anything that I want to live in for more than five years within my price range. I suppose that it just makes sense, and that I’m setting my standards a bit too high. I’m now wondering if I should move back home or stay here. There are some advantages to moving back home, such as being able to live/hang out with John more often. However, I’ve friends here that I don’t want to leave, and I’ve grown fond of this city, and it’s comely feeling. It’s a decision I’ll have to make before the summer begins, and I suspect that it will be one of the most difficult decisions I’ll have to make in my life.

I ache all over. Snowboarding has the ability to make muscles I’ve never even known about stiff with sore pleasure. I’ve always liked the feeling of not being able to move without hurting in some way, as if I fought an exhausting battle with some monster the night before. Even my trapezii are sore from getting my face out of the snow every 15 metres. At one point, I actually unerringly veered off the 50 foot wide trail, into a beautiful powder treeline ditch, landing me waist deep in snow, upside down. I found that it was actually pretty easy to ride both normal and fakie with no experience whatsoever, just carving with the heelside. The only problem became turning on the doglegs. At one point a school of little eight-year-old children weaving across the hill on skis were beating Nick and I on our boards, trying to race straight down.

All in all, it felt good to learn something new again, to try to carve up a slope on my heelside, to hear nothing but silence from the muffling snow of the mountain. I realized that day-to-day, there is always noise. There’s the constant sound of traffic outside my window, or even the wind; silence has become another urban encroachment victim. At one point, Aaron and I just stood on the slope and looked at the snow covered lake, mountains, and perennials. The mountain is so big, we had to take a gondola to a gondola at the base. I was surprized that it was so chillingly cold; my eyes were watering just from the gondola ride up, and my face hurt the moment I stepped out of the van.

We all organized some kind of food co-operation, so that we never needed to eat out. Unfortunately, my roast ended up a bit too dry, and the scalloped potatos too moist, but they were still good as leftovers. The lodge was great, coming complete with two bathrooms (showers included), four twin beds (one of which I had to myself), and cute receptionists. They even had a wine bottle opener in their collection of utensils and an electric oven, although a broken metal grill accessory that came with the microwave prevented us from using it due to a flurry of sparks every time we tried.

I only did a half day of boarding, and spent the rest of the time at the lodge that we rented. It was pretty damn good to just get away, to play some cards and drink without a computer around or school to worry about. I even got some reading done. We watched some TV, played some Mao and 9-5-2. The lodge had a pool and jacuzzi, which I was lucky enough to spend some time in. Some cigars were bought, but they ended up being pretty disappointing. There was much double fisting of the drinks, although the more mirthful dual hand action was when Aaron attempted to inhale from two cigars through his nose.

I missed Dolly a lot.

Going there made me realize that I still have a lot to experience that I haven’t done already. I’ve taken a lot of my childhood for granted, visiting other continents without venturing enough outside of my established norms and preferences. I wish I could have absorbed more of the scenery when I visited the World Trade Center, or paid attention to the tour guide at the Sydney Opera House. Even some reflection on the way there would have helped me appreciate what I was about to experience, whether it was the rich musical cognition of Hungary’s general population, or even the fresh seafood of Hong Kong.

I can only hope that I am able to appreciate where I am now, what I’m able to do, and the freedom I can enjoy, as much as I would appreciate the experience of another culture or lifestyle. I think that everyday life should be as significant as the exceptional experiences, that there can be much meaning found in both, and I try to live my life as such.

Perhaps I can already die.

I find myself in a foggy situation. I am unsure of almost all aspects of it, excluding the parts which allow me an omniscient understanding of my personal view. However, it appears to be that all parties involved have differing information in several events. Everyone has conflicting opinions on actions, on decisions, on faults.

I’m always unsure of what I think, since I can never be sure what others think. It’s hard for me to tell; sometimes my mind starts to imagine things. It’s when I start to believe them that I realize the need to keep my thoughts in check.

I find that I need to feel vindicated. I often worry about being blamed for something that’s not my fault, or for something that I’m misunderstood about, especially if the misunderstanding is due to the broken telephone passing of information.

Everyone thinks they’re right.

Including me.

There’s something about the chemistry between Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn that simply fascinates me, and although I’m sure the momentum of it spawned the painful movie Made, I still feel inclined to watch it over and over again.

My course load got easier this term, when I dropped a six hour per week course for a three hour one. Light schedules always seem to make my mind sloven, as if the load isn’t enough to put my mind in gear, so I grow restless in neutral. I wonder what I’m going to do when I’m out of school and looking for a job, something which will be happening within the half-year.

For some reason, Dolly takes an invariable fascination with the brushing of my teeth. Wherever she is, she’ll stalk up to my location and gaze intently at the act, hunched forward with the weight on her front paws. I can’t figure out what aspect of the brushing she may find interesting, and I wonder whether she’ll ever tire of watching.

Homemade wine tastes like homemade wine.

John stayed over last week-end and we had a great time. It was good to be able to simply be totally relaxed around someone, instead of being cautious, as is the case with even the closest of friends. It was enjoyable to have someone I can be completely open with.

I think it’s a rare bond that he and I share. I often believed that I would never be able to have someone know everything about me. The idea scares me, makes me cringe. Yet in this weekend, we were able to understand each other in such subtle ways that no explanation was needed for many subjects. I realize that John knows everything about me. He has such a history with me that I can feel comfortable with such an idea. He’s the only person who has met every one of my girlfriends.

One of my favorite conversations was about the way he manifests his support of the FTA by stealing (also delectable) lemon mints with the words “Down with the FTA!” printed on the wrapper. Another memorable one that comes to mind was concerning our dads mid-life crises. When he found out that a Boxter was part of mine, he told me that his only did something as benign as getting re-married. I couldn’t stop laughing when he said it, because it spoke of such a quirky understanding I have of his father. Yet it also so discretely tells of the value of his relationships, another things which I’ve come to understand in him.

I believe the appeal of these conversations is the way in which we can communicate. Most of my friends are people whom I can have a good time with, instead of being able to relate intellectually with. My relationship with John allows for both, and I always feel refreshed when I’m finished talking with him.

I can only hope that the effect is mutual.

I found out that I unofficially passed all my courses. I won’t believe it until I get the official transcript.

I just came back from watching Gangs of New York. I don’t think I’ll be going to a theatre again anytime soon. I paid thirteen fucking fifty for a ticket, when I could wait for it to come out on DVD and rent it for a third of the price. There wasn’t anything in the directing of the movie that made me think, “Oh, that’s Scorsese”, which was slightly disappointing. Day-Lewis’s presence on the screen, on the other hand, was amazing. His elocution was just perfect. I walked home afterwards in the thin, but dense, falling snow. It felt good.

I also watched a movie called The Center of the World yesterday, with the delectable Molly Parker as a lithe redhead. It wasn’t very good all around; acting was bland, story was bland and exaggerated, camerawork was shoddy (even though it was meant to be), but the sex was good.

I think I’m shmitten. Bad.

Dolly is getting spayed next week, so I’ll have to find a way to get her to the hospital one day, and back the next day. I might have to take a taxi for the four trips, if I can’t find someone to give me a ride.

I have a fairly easy term, since I only have three classes and a final project to complete. There’s also the fact that I’m not working, so that’s another dozen or so hours I’ve saved. I tried to take a course at Carleton instead, but it turns out that there’s no equivalence. It’s such a pity; my second attempt at galvanizing some of the stagnancy in my life has failed miserably, much like the first. I’ll need to look for a permanent job this term, hopefully computer related.

I seem to be struck with a great need for mental and physical antipathy lately. Everywhere I look, things are filled with beauty, and I am unused to it. I’m not sure what has changed; whether it’s myself, or the world around me. It often feels like there’s too much to take in, too much to experience, and that I’m unworthy. I wish that I could be cold and bitter as before, so that I could feel better about myself, that I didn’t feel so ugly and ashamed.

Everything is so much simpler when the world is black. My mind is made up, everything is stable, I can create. Yet there is always something that is missing, something that I’m always striving towards.

I think it all has to do with the fact that I’m still uncomfortable with contentment. It’s still an awkward feeling for me, something that I’m not used to yet. Antipathy could change this, but I can’t bring myself to hate again.

My antipathy has mostly left me.

It hasn’t been six months, but I still ain’t money.

I went to Aaron’s for new years yesterday, and we played some euchre and Canadian Trivial Pursuit. My partner for both games, which was Karen’s brother, was much better than Aaron was for Karen, I’m sure. We ended up winning all matches for both games. Jacques…must still be exhausted. It’s good to know that I can still laugh so hard that my sides start to burn from hypoxia. There was much fun had by all.

Sometimes I read about a disorder, and I start getting scared that I have it. I wish I wasn’t such a hypochondriac.

John’s coming over today. He’s driving, so we’ll have the car for three days where I can do some heavy grocery shopping. I feel like I’m having too much fun, like I should be stocking up on a fruitful holiday of entertainment in preparation for the coming term.

My first attempting at cooking something from the Naked Chef cookbook has been partially successful. I think the substitution of red wine instead of white created a sauce that was a little more tart than it should have been. The mushrooms absorbed the flavour of the sauce, but didn’t retain much of their flavour. The thyme did give everything a unique taste, but I had no porcini so it feels like something was missing in the taste of the chicken.