I wrote this the other day. I've discovered a new website entitled Thoughtcatalog.com and I'm determined to get all up in that. So I sent this in, but I like it too much for it not to hit the Internet.
Exes and Me: An Introspection
Look, I’m a nice guy. Always have been, despite my hardest attempts at reversing this personality trait. That says something about society: why is it such a bad thing to be the White Knight, the guy that doesn’t cheat, the guy that will tell someone if they dropped a twenty.
I’m totally serious when I say that I have lost count of the girls I’ve met who are looking for a great guy, then when I offer myself to the holy Boyfriend altar for sacrifice, either they aren’t interested, or I’m the “friend”. And I don’t get it.
Once in a while it works, for a little bit at least, and it’s awesome! Talking to someone who just gets you, no awkward silences, and sex where you can explore, discover each other’s wants. Then it fizzles. And that sucks.
I rarely get close to a girl emotionally, thanks in partial to an erstwhile Australian girl calling me up early one November morning a couple years ago and telling me she doesn’t love me anymore, and maybe I should reconsider moving to Melbourne. (Which was awesome, by the way.)
So while the odd one night stand is always welcome, it’s uncommon that I progress it further than that. I live in a community where the girls are heavily outnumbered, many are bar-stars, and the rest are already taken. So when that special girl does cross paths with me, I really try hard not to screw things up. So when they inevitably do, my Facebook feed becomes a minefield. My mind runs a gauntlet every time I see “Possible-Love-Of-Your-Life is now friends with Some-Unknown-Dude-Who’s-Probably-Cooler-Than-You-Because-He’s-Talking-To-Her-And-You-Aren’t.” Is this her new guy, even though she told you she’s “not ready” or “too busy” or “looking for something different”?
I’m that guy. And I’m tired of hearing about all the assholes in town, and asking where the nice guys are that don’t smoke weed all day.
In economic terms, I’m a hot commodity. I’m oil in the Middle East, water in the desert, vodka Red Bull in those douchey clubs on that Jersey Shore show. I’m the long straight Tetris piece, the elusive MewTwo, the Stanley Cup. (Actually, maybe the Conn Smythe Trophy; I’m not rich, after all.)
So why is nobody buying stocks in Tall, Literary, and Handsome?
Answers on the back of a postcard.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Thoughts on Burke
Lately, there's been a lot of talk on the hockey front in regard to concussions, and while this certainly is an important topic of discussion, there's something more pressing to discuss.
This week marked the passing of a living legend, a pioneer in her field, and an incredible athlete. Sarah Burke was just a year older than I, and her sudden and unfortunate death yesterday has sent shockwaves through Whistler, and the skiing community at large. Last week, she was put into a medically induced coma after a particularly horrific crash in Salt Lake City, UT, and though doctor's were able to contain the ruptured vertebral artery, there was irreversible damage done to her brain. Had she survived, there is no question that she wouldn't be the same.
Granted, the circumstances were exceptional, competing in an event by Monster Energy. Nonetheless, it highlights the importance of safety on the hill. Yet today, after just a couple of runs on Blackcomb, I noticed the continuation of a particularly scary trend.
WHAT THE HELL IS WITH PEOPLE NOT DOING THEIR HELMETS UP?!
Seriously. It's all these d-bags in the park who think they're invincible. I wear a helmet all the time, a Sandbox helmet with a small brim. One time I was riding from my house to the chair and the damn thing flew off. Like, just lifted off my head. I need that damn strap. Never mind that this season I have sustained both major whiplash and a minor concussion (separate events). And I was wearing my helmet.
Everyone, it seems, has a helmet on the hill; not everyone is keen to fasten the strap. It's exactly the same as a seatbelt: it's there for a reason. Why not just get rid of it altogether? Oh right. "Sponsorship" stickers. Look, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you aren't that good. And if you were, you'd be playing safe.
You don't do it up because you don't fall? Alright, fuck you. You aren't trying hard enough. And rails hurt like a sonovabitch when you hit it with your head.
Hopefully, Sarah's passing will raise a lot of concerns for skiers and snowboarders. I would love to see a helmet mandatory WB, and fines for incorrect use. But hey, that's just me.
So long, Sarah. This town has lost one of its heroes... again.
This week marked the passing of a living legend, a pioneer in her field, and an incredible athlete. Sarah Burke was just a year older than I, and her sudden and unfortunate death yesterday has sent shockwaves through Whistler, and the skiing community at large. Last week, she was put into a medically induced coma after a particularly horrific crash in Salt Lake City, UT, and though doctor's were able to contain the ruptured vertebral artery, there was irreversible damage done to her brain. Had she survived, there is no question that she wouldn't be the same.
Granted, the circumstances were exceptional, competing in an event by Monster Energy. Nonetheless, it highlights the importance of safety on the hill. Yet today, after just a couple of runs on Blackcomb, I noticed the continuation of a particularly scary trend.
WHAT THE HELL IS WITH PEOPLE NOT DOING THEIR HELMETS UP?!
Seriously. It's all these d-bags in the park who think they're invincible. I wear a helmet all the time, a Sandbox helmet with a small brim. One time I was riding from my house to the chair and the damn thing flew off. Like, just lifted off my head. I need that damn strap. Never mind that this season I have sustained both major whiplash and a minor concussion (separate events). And I was wearing my helmet.
Everyone, it seems, has a helmet on the hill; not everyone is keen to fasten the strap. It's exactly the same as a seatbelt: it's there for a reason. Why not just get rid of it altogether? Oh right. "Sponsorship" stickers. Look, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you aren't that good. And if you were, you'd be playing safe.
You don't do it up because you don't fall? Alright, fuck you. You aren't trying hard enough. And rails hurt like a sonovabitch when you hit it with your head.
Hopefully, Sarah's passing will raise a lot of concerns for skiers and snowboarders. I would love to see a helmet mandatory WB, and fines for incorrect use. But hey, that's just me.
So long, Sarah. This town has lost one of its heroes... again.
Friday, January 6, 2012
Happy 2012, here's to the end of the world.
Well, what a Christmas holiday, or rather lack of. I have worked in one way or another since Dec. 21st, and now, JAnuary 6th, I have the night off. I really shouldn't do anything, as 1) I have friends from Vancouver heading up tomorrow looking to party, and 2) my pops gets here on Sunday for a week, and I'll need some money for that. But hey, I'm not going to meet exciting people in my living room!
Weather wise, La Nina is taking her sweet time... Just like a woman, to think it's totally fine to show up late to the party. But, slowly and surely, we're getting the snow. About time too; if I don't get into the steep stuff soon, I'm liable to really hurt myself by skiing recklessly. Since Christmas, I've sustained a minor concussion, severe whiplash, and today I shoulder checked a tree. To cut a long story short, I need some fucking powder.
Let's see. WhistlerisAwesome.com was voted Whistler's Best Website of 2011... Oh! And I wrote a Top Ten Albums of 2011 for iPartyinWhistler.com so when that gets posted you should check that out. But I don't have it yet.
That's pretty much it.
Check out Freerice.com, and feed some people. While you learn new words. It's win win.
*Mic Drop*
Weather wise, La Nina is taking her sweet time... Just like a woman, to think it's totally fine to show up late to the party. But, slowly and surely, we're getting the snow. About time too; if I don't get into the steep stuff soon, I'm liable to really hurt myself by skiing recklessly. Since Christmas, I've sustained a minor concussion, severe whiplash, and today I shoulder checked a tree. To cut a long story short, I need some fucking powder.
Let's see. WhistlerisAwesome.com was voted Whistler's Best Website of 2011... Oh! And I wrote a Top Ten Albums of 2011 for iPartyinWhistler.com so when that gets posted you should check that out. But I don't have it yet.
That's pretty much it.
Check out Freerice.com, and feed some people. While you learn new words. It's win win.
*Mic Drop*
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
And so it is...
I didn't think I'd be writing another one of these so soon...
Months ago, I wrote about the tragedy of one of Whistler's most vivacious young people, and her decision to take her life. It pains me to say that, this Christmas season, we lost another one by their own hand. Once again, I didn't know him, but by all accounts, he was a great guy, funny, the person to turn to when you needed a hug, and a hell of a softball pitcher. Over the last couple of days I've spoken to many of his friends, and a gamut of emotion are running through the restaurants and (more regularly) bars: sadness, shock, anger, disgust, guilt. I'm not going to retread any ground here about the senselessness of his fatal actions, but I will say this.
Despite our fun-loving lifestyle, Whistler can be difficult. Some of us aren't sure when the next big payday is going to be, some of us can't stand to see our ex traipsing around town with their new flame, some of us just feel a little lonely, particularly around the holidays. I will never know what Brent was going through that felt he had to do what he did, but I can understand that the weight of the world was bearing down on him.
To my friends, I hope you feel that you can talk to someone, anyone, if things are looking bleak. You'd be surprised where the compassion comes from; real friends won't judge, and no one can help you when you're gone. We're all in this show together, and we need our Safety Nets to keep us out of the mud and elephant shit on the circus floor. With luck and awareness, I won't have to say goodbye to any of you after the fact, just as I know you won't have to say goodbye to me.
Keep shreddin'.
Months ago, I wrote about the tragedy of one of Whistler's most vivacious young people, and her decision to take her life. It pains me to say that, this Christmas season, we lost another one by their own hand. Once again, I didn't know him, but by all accounts, he was a great guy, funny, the person to turn to when you needed a hug, and a hell of a softball pitcher. Over the last couple of days I've spoken to many of his friends, and a gamut of emotion are running through the restaurants and (more regularly) bars: sadness, shock, anger, disgust, guilt. I'm not going to retread any ground here about the senselessness of his fatal actions, but I will say this.
Despite our fun-loving lifestyle, Whistler can be difficult. Some of us aren't sure when the next big payday is going to be, some of us can't stand to see our ex traipsing around town with their new flame, some of us just feel a little lonely, particularly around the holidays. I will never know what Brent was going through that felt he had to do what he did, but I can understand that the weight of the world was bearing down on him.
To my friends, I hope you feel that you can talk to someone, anyone, if things are looking bleak. You'd be surprised where the compassion comes from; real friends won't judge, and no one can help you when you're gone. We're all in this show together, and we need our Safety Nets to keep us out of the mud and elephant shit on the circus floor. With luck and awareness, I won't have to say goodbye to any of you after the fact, just as I know you won't have to say goodbye to me.
Keep shreddin'.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Do I drink when I write, or write when I drink? One suggests that I can't "express myself" in the real (read: sober) world. The other is merely a testament to the stereotype of writing. Hemingway would certainly give me a nod; the man has countless drinks named after him, and he shot himself when he stopped drinking.
Man, that guy could write. He's not for everyone, because his apparent distaste for full stops and his love of the word "and" makes it hard going to read, let alone study. But nevermind. It just feels like, when I'm really 'working', I should have some brown liquor in a glass in front of me, perhaps with some jazz or Sinatra playing.
Such is the life of the wordy. Musing becomes an everyday part of life. Merely considering the infinite "what if?"s can become a full time occupation.
What if I talk to this girl in the grocery store? Where would that conversation lead to?
What if I had sat on the chairlift with some strangers, instead of taking my own chair up? Who knows what would have come about?
What if I choose to stay late at work? What if the love of my life walks in? What if tonight, the night I stay in, turns out to be the best night I ever could have had? What if I bump into Josh Sherry, that guy from elementary school I haven't seen since 1997?
The possibilities are endless. The trick is to follow up on that imagination, and to monitor it. It's why I try not to say no to anything. Within reason; I'm not of the murdering state of mind.
Oh, and apparently it's Christmas soon. I'm going to front the charge for a Local's Christmas, JANUARY 25th. We all have some money, and everything is cheaper because it's post Christmas sales all up in the house, not to mention that Jan. 25th is a wednesday and probably gonna be quiet at your job so you should just drink cheap eggnog and enjoy the non-holiday warmth. Oh, and advent calendars are SUPER cheap.
But I can't do it alone. I need your help. Share the hell out of this post if you read it. Send it to 10 friends: 5 you see on a regular basis, and 5 randoms from your Facebook that you haven't talked to in a while. To the people reading this as a recommendation from a friend: please do the same. Brother needs recognition, and I think this is the way forward.
I'll leave you with this quote from Ernie: If the book is good, is about something that you know, and is truly written, and reading it over you see that this is so, you can let the boys yip and the noise will have that pleasant sound coyotes make on a very cold night when they are out in the snow and you are in your own cabin that you have built or paid for with your work.
Man, that guy could write. He's not for everyone, because his apparent distaste for full stops and his love of the word "and" makes it hard going to read, let alone study. But nevermind. It just feels like, when I'm really 'working', I should have some brown liquor in a glass in front of me, perhaps with some jazz or Sinatra playing.
Such is the life of the wordy. Musing becomes an everyday part of life. Merely considering the infinite "what if?"s can become a full time occupation.
What if I talk to this girl in the grocery store? Where would that conversation lead to?
What if I had sat on the chairlift with some strangers, instead of taking my own chair up? Who knows what would have come about?
What if I choose to stay late at work? What if the love of my life walks in? What if tonight, the night I stay in, turns out to be the best night I ever could have had? What if I bump into Josh Sherry, that guy from elementary school I haven't seen since 1997?
The possibilities are endless. The trick is to follow up on that imagination, and to monitor it. It's why I try not to say no to anything. Within reason; I'm not of the murdering state of mind.
Oh, and apparently it's Christmas soon. I'm going to front the charge for a Local's Christmas, JANUARY 25th. We all have some money, and everything is cheaper because it's post Christmas sales all up in the house, not to mention that Jan. 25th is a wednesday and probably gonna be quiet at your job so you should just drink cheap eggnog and enjoy the non-holiday warmth. Oh, and advent calendars are SUPER cheap.
But I can't do it alone. I need your help. Share the hell out of this post if you read it. Send it to 10 friends: 5 you see on a regular basis, and 5 randoms from your Facebook that you haven't talked to in a while. To the people reading this as a recommendation from a friend: please do the same. Brother needs recognition, and I think this is the way forward.
I'll leave you with this quote from Ernie: If the book is good, is about something that you know, and is truly written, and reading it over you see that this is so, you can let the boys yip and the noise will have that pleasant sound coyotes make on a very cold night when they are out in the snow and you are in your own cabin that you have built or paid for with your work.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Balancing Act
Spoiler Alert: this could get whiny.
Someone asked me the other day if I believe in karma. Now I don't think I do, though I understand the premise. If you're nice to people, then nice things will happen for you. Much like a bank loan, when you give away positive... *sigh* energy... then it eventually returns with interest. This would be hunky dory except for the minor issue that there are some people that don't believe it. Not only that, they don't believe in it, AND they don't see anything wrong with being total dicks to everyone (something that separates me from them.) I'm a good guy because it's morally right, which could be argued is better than karmic belief because I'm not doing it in the hope that good things will happen to me, I just hope that whatever I can do will help someone else have a nicer day. Let's face it, it's always a good feeling when your wallet is returned, cash and cards intact, after you left it on the bus, or when, after a long day at work, someone offers you the comfy seat on the couch.
No, what I believe in is something a little different. And I don't know if it happens to other people, but let me run it past you. Consider a number of glasses, all empty, and one giant jug of water. The glasses represent different areas of your life (friends, work, money, romance, etc) and the water that is about to be poured into these hypothetical receptacles represents how much or how little each is going on in your life. For example, lately, my Money and Job glasses have been drying up, with the Girl glass near on full. The other day though, the Girl in question called it off, and just like magic, my hours (and eventually money) raised to the point of overflowing.
The trick is to find a happy medium between all glasses, to get the best possible combination so you can have a Happiness Drink for the rest of your life (or at least until another tap gets turned on, or the glasses get bigger... but I think my metaphor is starting to fall apart.)
My point being: I don't want to have it all, I just want enough of a little bit. This town is forever changing, and the only stability is the knowledge that nothing is permanent. The one thing that has kept me going during the latest financially meagre weeks is that it seems everyone's Dollar Glass is empty. Now, it seems everyone has won the lottery, and I'm the unlucky sonovabitch that didn't buy a ticket.
Ah well. Stay thirsty, my friends.
Someone asked me the other day if I believe in karma. Now I don't think I do, though I understand the premise. If you're nice to people, then nice things will happen for you. Much like a bank loan, when you give away positive... *sigh* energy... then it eventually returns with interest. This would be hunky dory except for the minor issue that there are some people that don't believe it. Not only that, they don't believe in it, AND they don't see anything wrong with being total dicks to everyone (something that separates me from them.) I'm a good guy because it's morally right, which could be argued is better than karmic belief because I'm not doing it in the hope that good things will happen to me, I just hope that whatever I can do will help someone else have a nicer day. Let's face it, it's always a good feeling when your wallet is returned, cash and cards intact, after you left it on the bus, or when, after a long day at work, someone offers you the comfy seat on the couch.
No, what I believe in is something a little different. And I don't know if it happens to other people, but let me run it past you. Consider a number of glasses, all empty, and one giant jug of water. The glasses represent different areas of your life (friends, work, money, romance, etc) and the water that is about to be poured into these hypothetical receptacles represents how much or how little each is going on in your life. For example, lately, my Money and Job glasses have been drying up, with the Girl glass near on full. The other day though, the Girl in question called it off, and just like magic, my hours (and eventually money) raised to the point of overflowing.
The trick is to find a happy medium between all glasses, to get the best possible combination so you can have a Happiness Drink for the rest of your life (or at least until another tap gets turned on, or the glasses get bigger... but I think my metaphor is starting to fall apart.)
My point being: I don't want to have it all, I just want enough of a little bit. This town is forever changing, and the only stability is the knowledge that nothing is permanent. The one thing that has kept me going during the latest financially meagre weeks is that it seems everyone's Dollar Glass is empty. Now, it seems everyone has won the lottery, and I'm the unlucky sonovabitch that didn't buy a ticket.
Ah well. Stay thirsty, my friends.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Voting of a different variety!
It's that time of year again. The Best of Whistler is now available online (I'd link to it but I've already completed my votes so it just shows a Thank You Message). And what a year to be reviewing; I had some serious problems choosing just one Party of the year, for example. Anyway, as I'm writing for Whistler is Awesome, and iPartyinWhistler, I'd love it if you consider either of those as Best Website. Oh, look at that, there's a "Best Writer" section just beneath... I'll hug you and give you Oreos!
In keeping with tradition, I woke early for the opening day of Blackcomb, and my favourite mountain did not disappoint. We've almost hit 3 metres cumulative already, and it isn't even December! Shaping up to be a great season.
Finally, tomorrow I can shave my face. I actually enjoy having a moustache, but I find that visitors don't take me seriously. So that's that. If you want to donate, go to http://mobro.co/aaronpeart/d and aforementioned hugs and Oreos will also pertain here.
That's it for now I think. Go Leafs; let's get Reimer back in and see if he's still as good as he was.
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