the greatest show on earth

the following is a brief peek inside my brain using the literary technique known as stream of consciousness based on my observations of the shrine circus which i attended earlier today with my two daughters at centrepoint mall in north york, ontario.

oh, look. popcorn. cuanto? five dollars a box? you gotta be kidding me? hey, slushies. combien? four bucks? for shaved ice and food colouring? eh, the kids aren't that hungry anyway. ok, show's starting. better grab our seats. hmmm. rather impressive big top. kinda warm in here though. feeling a little stuffy. uh, can someone open a window please? would it kill them to invest in a fan or two? ok, here comes the ringmaster. oh my g-d! look at that blazer! sequins! and what's with the hair, buddy? got enough gel in there, pal? ok, first act. lion dance? hey, i can put on a lion's head and dance around for six minutes. this ain't no circus act. ok, what's next? oooh, it's the yo-yo ladies. or whatever you call those things they're balancing on those skipping ropes. ok, that was impressive. gotta give props for that. um, getting hotter in here. starting to feel a little lightheaded. can somebody please open a window or something? daddy, i'm thirsty. wait, what's next? contortionists? ow, that's gotta hurt. that's gonna leave a mark. (achoo) uh-oh. why am i sneezing? must be allergic to something in here. can't be the contortionists. wait a minute. next act. uh-oh. dancing horses. just figured out the culprit. not good for the allergies. daddy, i'm thirsty. alright. next act. oh, no. clowns. bring in the clowns. here come the clowns. uh-oh. they're choosing people from the audience. please don't pick me. please don't pick me. whew. thank g-d they didn't pick me. let someone else make a fool of himself. never understood why some folks are afraid of clowns though. they seem pretty harmless. except for that one. and maybe that one. getting hotter in here. don't think i'm gonna make it. (achoo) horsies aren't helping matters any. ok, next act. hey, plate spinners. always wanted to learn how to do that. daddy, i said i'm thirsty! hey, how'd she do that? hold on a minute. those plates gotta be attached. you think that's fine china? don't drop 'em! they'll fire you for sure, lady! ok, final act before intermission. intermezzo. interlude. vase balancing? what's that? oh, i get it. on his head. hey, that's not easy. that's not easy. daddy, please! i need something to drink! it is really hot in here! is it? is it hot in here? eh, i guess it is kinda hot in here. (achoo) alright. that's it. let's go home. no way i'm sitting through the second act. not with my allergies. damn horses.

all the world's a stage
and all the men and women merely players
they have their exits and their entrances
and one man in his time plays many parts...

- william shakespeare

ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages:

the grass is always greener

so i finally decided to show my eldest daughter how to catch a coin dropped from her elbow this evening. (some of you may have seen me showing off this particular trick at work. sadly, it's one of only three highly inconsequential skill sets that i possess, along with twirling a meter stick and bending my ring finger backwards at a grotesque angle.) at first, seven expressed little interest (or proficiency) in mastering this somewhat peculiar feat. but once she got the hang of it, the smile on her face could have lit up times square on a saturday night.

however, it was seven's comments during tonight's training session that really struck a chord with me. for whenever i would demonstrate the stunt using multiple coins (59 is my record, as some of you may recall), seven would inevitably respond with a remark along the lines of "wow, dad! you are the most awesome father in the world!"

humility aside, i must admit that comments of that nature still bring a lump to my throat. but not for the reasons that you may assume they would.

no, i sometimes feel a sense of pensive melancholy whenever my daughter thanks me for teaching her how to do something because i wish i could teach her more. i wish i could have learned more from my own father when i was younger so that i could pass along those seemingly insignificant skills to my offspring. i wish i could be more like the fathers of my daughter's friends who seem to know how to do everything that a typical suburban dad is supposed to have learned.

"don't worry that your children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you." - robert fulghum

speaking of pensive melancholy:



p.s. i did mention that we would be starting up a juggling club at school come september, didn't i? oh, and by the way, you're the new president. mazel tov.

doctor heal thyself

so perhaps i don't have stasis dermatitis after all. because on the advice of the rookie physician who first diagnosed me with the aforementioned condition, yesterday i visited a dermatologist up north (in thornhill) who came to a slightly different conclusion after examining my mildly discoloured lower limbs. no, according to the 20-year veteran of the skin wars, i am actually suffering from a related disorder known as schamberg's disease. (yes, like you, i became slightly alarmed when i first heard the term "disease" used to describe my present condition. but unlike you, i immediately inquired about how many months i had to live as a result.)

'hey sir, what exactly is schamberg's disease?' you are probably asking yourself at the moment. well, according to the friendly folks at the suspiciously-titled skinsite.com:

schamberg's disease, or progressive pigmented purpuric dermatitis, is a chronic discolouration of the skin which usually affects the legs and often spreads slowly. this disease is more common in males and may occur at any age from childhood onward. people who develop schamberg's disease have leaky blood vessel walls which allow red blood cells to slip through into the skin. the red cells in the skin then fall apart and release their iron which has a rust color. this accounts for the orange tint of the rash.

so here's my dilemma. i simply have no idea who to believe at this point. i mean, i just assumed that the first doctor i spoke to, a recent medical school graduate, would be fairly up-to-date on the latest diseases and treatments. but the grizzled specialist who saw me later and voiced a contrasting opinion seemed very confident in his diagnosis, as well. so who to believe? who to believe?

a few other points for your consideration. doctor one stated she was 99% certain that i was suffering from stasis dermatitis. doctor two looked at me hard when i asked him if he was absolutely certain about his diagnosis. doctor one showed me google images on her laptop of various legs and ankles affected by stasis dermatitis and most of them looked just like my mildly discoloured legs and ankles. doctor two had a medical school student by his side throughout the entire examination who nodded his head up and down whenever his mentor would utter the phrase 'schamberg's disease.' doctor one asked me to roll up my pants to the knee so that she could take a closer look at the nature of the discolouration. doctor two tried to locate a pulse in my foot (i know! my foot?) to more accurately measure the nature of the discolouration. doctor one attended the university of toronto. doctor two drives a mercedes. (i spotted his custom license plate in the parking lot.)

oh, and one more point. if doctor two is, in fact, correct in his assessment, i may not have to wear $100 elastic support stockings for the rest of my life. oh well, so much for miami beach.

"um, medicine is not an exact science." - wise doctor

jeux sans frontieres:

a dog's life

today in my condo, a man and his pooch stepped onto the elevator and shared a ride with me down to the lobby. the jack russell terrier was admittedly one cute little canine, but that still didn't justify what was to follow over the next few seconds. i was doing my best to avoid eye contact with the pup's owner due to a previous altercation (long story) when suddenly i felt a cold, wet sponge-like object begin to caress my right ankle. i looked down and to no one's surprise, i watched as the adorable terrier attempted to convert my right leg into his own personal lollipop. now maybe he was attracted to my choice of deodorant soap (zest) or maybe he was looking to satisfy his sodium quota for the day (although i thought that was a "cat thing") or maybe he was simply reaping the benefits of the cortisone cream i had just applied to my shins to hide the effects of my eczema. who knows? but whatever this mutt's reasons, he was slowly turning my lower limbs into one helluva gooey mess.

"um, he's a good dog. he wont bite you," the owner sheepishly declared.

"it's not his bite that i'm worried about. it's his germs," i curtly replied.

"haven't you heard that a dog's mouth is cleaner than a human's?" the leash holder cleverly put forth.

"yes, i have. but i don't want his mouth on my ankles any more than i want yours."

game. set. match.

"properly trained, a man can be a dog's best friend." - corey ford

takes me back to a time and a place:

first (and last) date

there is a scene in beezus and ramona (or is it ramona and beezus?) where selena gomez (beezus) accidentally swallows a fly as she sips on a glass of lemonade while speaking to the love of her life, the iconic henry huggins. quickly recognizing that she has just ingested the insect, she instinctively spits out the beverage into the face of her soon-to-be soul mate. she then tries to hide her embarrassment by meekly offering up an apology but the damage has already been done.

believe it or not, the scene reminded me of an episode from my days as a college student that touches on the same themes of great expectations and monumental humiliations. and for once, the humiliation suffered was not my own. for no biography of my life would be complete without at least a single telling of this fateful tale.

so here's my story, and remember, truth is always stranger than fiction.

there was a girl in school, the daughter of a prominent lawyer in the city, who will henceforth be referred to as dc. now early on, i got the impression that dc was digging on me given the frequency with which she would always place herself in my company. to wit: i would go to the caf. she would go to the caf. i would go to the library. she would go to the library. i would go to the quad. she would go to the quad. just saying.

anyhow, one cold, gusty afternoon in january or february (the month isn't important but the weather forecast is certainly germane to the story) i decided to walk dc to her car, being the gentleman that i am. now you should be aware that on this particular university campus, the parking lot is located at least half a kilometre from the nearest stretch of civilization. the point: it was a lengthy hike and remember, it was chilly out that day.

when we finally arrived at dc's vehicle, we engaged in a little chit-chat by the side of her honda (everyone drove a prelude back in the day). i could tell that she was enjoying the tone of our conversation - we had never really had a chance to speak one on one prior to that day as the two of us typically found ourselves enmeshed within the larger group dynamic at school. and as the seconds turned to minutes and the minutes turned to... er, more minutes, i felt like we were finally making a connection. we were finally interacting. we were finally talking to one another. and then, without warning, it happened.

now i'm not sure if it was the cold or the wind or the composition of her nasal passages, but whatever it was, it sure wasn't pretty. because you see, at that very moment, in the midst of perhaps the most intimate conversation of my young life, something began to drip from the left nostril of my parking lot date. now i assume that i don't have to spell out what that something was - suffice to say that it was the sort of thing that tends to flow from one's nose on cool, breezy days like the one i've been discussing. oh, and just so we're clear, this was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill runny nose we're talking about here. no, this was more like a yo-yo of mucus dangling precariously from its starting point in the nasal cavity.

now these facts alone would have probably been sufficient to end any hope of this relationship progressing to the next level. but unfortunately, it gets worse. oh, it gets so much worse. because you see, due to the frigid conditions, dc wasn't even aware that something was hanging from her nose until a good fifteen seconds or so had passed. and at the risk of sounding insensitive, just imagine my own horror as i was forced to feign ignorance of the cringe-worthy events unfolding before my eyes. smile. smile. don't stare. don't stare. whatever you do, do not stare at the stringy secretion swinging from her nostril. smile. smile.

of course, when dc eventually realized the mucous-y mess that she found herself in, she was suitably mortified. and she certainly didn't attempt to even hide her chagrin. for she immediately jumped into her awaiting auto and within seconds, she was on her way.

epilogue: dc and i never did speak of the "incident" again. in fact, we never spoke again, period. now personally, i was more than willing to let bygones be bygones. but i guess dc could never find it within herself to put the awkwardness of that day behind her. and in hindsight, i suppose i understand her plight.

so that's my story. or maybe it was her story. but whatever it was, it has certainly stayed with me for all these years. as once again, truth will always remain stranger than fiction.

"hey, it could be worse." - author unknown

so begins peter gabriel week here on the pathos network:

crash (double negative)

it's not as though i don't have enough time in the day to compose a new post. i do.

and it's not as though i haven't any ideas to blog about. i do.

it's just that sometimes i feel like crashing when i could be writing.

like tonight.

or as one of the brighter folks i know once put it: a post about not posting.

that is all.

"nothing is so insufferable to man as to be completely at rest, without passions, without business, without diversion, without study. he then feels his nothingness, his forlornness, his insufficiency, his dependence, his weakness, his emptiness." - blaise pascal

"a thing of beauty is a joy forever; its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness." - john keats

the speed of light is infinitely faster than the speed of sound:



p.s. the key is to amend object width to 385

p.p.s. perhaps you're right, rs.

text and win

when i called the toll-free support line, i wasn't expecting to hear that i only had 60 cents remaining on my mobile's monthly prepaid account. after all, my wife and i rarely use that cell phone. it's more of a "second line" in our household. and when i asked the operator to explain the charges on my account as she read from my mobile log, i was even more surprised to learn that we had received almost 30 "text and win" messages over the past three months.

naturally i asked the operator if she could determine the source of these mysterious text messages. after a few minutes of investigation, she was able to ascertain that the sender was a montreal-based enterprise specializing in online and sms contests and promotions.

so how much was i paying for these text messages then? well, it turns out that each of those texts was running me two dollars apiece. two dollars! let's see then... thirty messages at two dollars a pop equals... equals $60! um, but i thought incoming messages were free on my service. yes, the operator replied, but these were premium messages. premium messages? what the hell is a premium message? well, the operator continued, a premium message includes text voting, chatting, contests, and text alerts. text voting? what would i be voting on: my favourite video on punchmuch? chatting? who would want to chat with me? contests? i've never won a contest. text alerts? yeah, maybe to alert me that i hadn't won the contest.

and what's more - i wasn't even aware that these messages were being received in the first place. now i must say that the operator expressed some doubts over this particular assertion. but i promised her that i was completely in the dark when it came to these specific texts. nothing in my inbox. nothing in my log. nothing. and just to cover my bases, i immediately inquired of my wife as to whether or not she was familiar with the texts at issue in this matter. she claimed ignorance, as well.

but when i mentioned this to the operator, ms. mobile implied that the messages were the result of an invitation on our part to receive information from this particular firm. once again i asked my wife if she had made any contact with the company in question. once again she claimed ignorance.

then the operator asked if i had ever replied to the incoming texts with a "stop" message. how could i have replied with a "stop" message if i had never received the incoming texts to begin with? then i asked my wife if she had replied to the texts and once again she responded in the negative.

so here's the problem then. first of all, what's to stop these unscrupulous marketers from charging $3 per text... or $4 per text... or why not even $5 per text? when i mentioned this to the operator, she seemed to suggest that nothing, in fact, would stop these deceitful con men from applying those higher rates.

and secondly, how can i be certain that a "stop" reply to the first incoming "text and win" message would have been obeyed by the individuals responsible for the scam anyway? when i mentioned this to the operator, she seemed to suggest that nothing, in fact, may persuade those companies from abandoning their unethical ways.

alright, so enough bad news already. the good news? the good news is that the supervisor i eventually spoke to at my mobile service provider was kind enough to credit the full $60 back to my account. you see virginia, there is a santa claus.

"honesty is the best policy. if i lose mine honor, i lose myself." - william shakespeare

sometimes you gotta laugh, sometimes you gotta cry, and sometimes you just gotta dance:



p.s. what do you mean, "the huge gap underneath the post"?

when does it happen

so tell me. when does it happen? when does a kid in this society begin to feel insecure about standing out in a crowd? because this morning, as i drove my eldest to her last day of summer camp, i honestly believed that seven-year-olds were incapable of such feelings. but apparently i was wrong.

it was theme day at the city-run camp. pirate day to be precise. the kids were instructed to dress up as their favourite seafaring swashbuckler. now given our limited wardrobe budget at home, we could only fit seven in the traditional waist sash and red bandana. no breeches or wide belts or tri-cornered hats for my kid. let's just say that she wasn't exactly a spitting image of jack sparrow. but still, she looked the part... for the most part.

anyhow, when we arrived at the community centre housing seven's camp this morning, it was obvious that most of the other campers hadn't received the memo regarding pirate day. in fact, by my count, there was only one other kid sporting even a hint of buccaneer in her chosen garb.

but it was actually seven's reaction that left me more than a little bit surprised. for upon spotting the relative scarcity of sea robber apparel in the gymnasium this morning, my daughter immediately tore off her bandana and sash and stuffed them into her hannah montana backpack.

and when i asked my daughter what she was doing, she angrily replied, "i told you that no one would dress up today." why does it matter what other people are wearing today? i calmly shot back. "because," she rejoined, "i don't want to be the only person who's wearing a costume today." but you're seven, was the only wisdom i could summon at that moment. and besides, i added while pointing, that girl over there is wearing a bandana. i think.

so that's that. apparently, at seven years of age, young boys and girls in this society develop a sense of conformity. a sense of wanting to fit in. a sense of wanting to be accepted by one's peers. and apparently, that sense of belonging necessitates the avoidance of any indication that one is even remotely different from anyone else. at seven.

"to be one's self, and unafraid whether right or wrong, is more admirable than the easy cowardice of surrender to conformity.” - irving wallace

prom night with wings:



p.s. good point, rs. well said.

sometimes

aren't you just exhausted sometimes?

i mean, aren't you just physically and emotionally and intellectually exhausted sometimes?

every now and again

you know what? every now and again, i am afforded an opportunity to enjoy life's simple pleasures.

every now and again i can collapse on my couch and enjoy back-to-back episodes of hell's kitchen on the reality network.

every now and again i can sprawl out on the chaise lounge at the back of my condo and enjoy the toronto sun sports section.

every now and again i can crawl into my bed in the middle of the afternoon and enjoy a short nap.

every now and again i can hang out at yorkdale mall and enjoy the air conditioned comfort of living in suburbia.

every now and again i can throw youtube on the pc and enjoy one crappy 80's pop song after another.

every now and again i can perch myself in the grandstand at woodbine racetrack and enjoy the thoroughbreds as they race around the turf.

every now and again i can sit with my best friend at a local eatery and enjoy shooting the breeze over a club sandwich and soda.

every now and again i can stand back and enjoy the sight of my two daughters tossing a frisbee to one another in the park.

but only every now and again.

"life moves pretty fast. if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." - ferris bueller's day off (1986)

it can put a smile on your face:

put your hands up

i have been accumulating coins inside a huge glass jar in my bedroom for what seems like the past 40 years. so today i decided to do something about it. yes, today i decided to take my coins, fully wrapped i might add, to my local branch of the td bank so that i could deposit said funds in my account.

now just to give you some idea as to the amount of change i'm talking about here, i was ultimately forced to place the rolls of coins inside a pillowcase because the plastic shopping bag i had originally intended as my mode of transport tore open under the sheer weight of the load.

so this morning i made my way on foot to the neighbourhood td bank branch, navy green pillowcase slung over my shoulder like some dollar store version of st. nick, only minus the beard and pot belly.

but i wasn't really expecting the reaction i received when i eventually tossed my cargo of legal tender onto the counter in front of the startled teller. because when i told her that i wanted to deposit over a hundred rolls of coins, she looked at me as though i had just informed her that i had a 10-foot cobra inside my pillowcase. i mean, i figured that because she worked in a bank and all, she was probably used to the sight of perfectly-wrapped rolls of coins by now. but apparently i was wrong. because when i dumped my treasure trove onto the counter top in front of miss mba, her eyes began to bulge as if she had just witnessed a 10-foot cobra spill out of a pillowcase.

but get this. the first thing the teller asked me wasn't "so how did you manage to amass so many coins?" or "so how did you manage to wrap your coins so perfectly?" no, the first thing the potential employee of the month asked me was, "did you write your account number and branch number on the side of every roll?"

huh? excuse me? account number? branch number? every roll? uh, there were over a hundred rolls of perfectly-wrapped coins on that counter top. how was i supposed to write my account number and branch number on every roll?

me: uh, how am i supposed to write my account number and branch number on every roll?

her: oh, that's easy. you just pick up each roll and carefully print your account number and branch number on the side of the wrapper.

me: but how am i supposed to do that for a hundred rolls?

her: well, i guess you just do it for each roll until you've finished all one hundred rolls.

me: but there's no room to print my account number and branch number on the side of each roll.

her: oh, don't worry. just print with tiny little numbers.

me: but how was i to know that i was supposed to print my account number and branch number on the side of each roll?

her: well, i guess now you know. um, would you like me to help you?

at that point, the teller handed me a limited edition td bank ballpoint pen and smiled. i smiled back at her. and then i began printing.

"you have to stop the q-tip when there's resistance." - chandler bing

i think they're in town this week:

oy, my back

so here's my story.

i am getting old. and when i say old, i mean "officially" old. i'll tell you how i know that i'm getting old, officially old. yesterday, at the doctor's office, i was told by a family practitioner that i had developed a condition known as stasis dermatitis. essentially that means that the veins in my lower legs are not operating as they should and as a result, complications are beginning to appear.

now i knew that something might be wrong with me a few years ago when i first noticed dark purple blotches appearing around my ankles. at the time, i spoke to a few incompetent quacks who assured me that nothing was wrong with me other than perhaps the early onset of what they termed "relatively harmless" varicose veins.

but yesterday, i spoke with a youngish-looking female physician who had just graduated from the medical school at u of t (or ut as some of the students there are now calling it, i'm told). within seconds of taking a look at my ankle, the distaff version of doogie howser was on her laptop googling the name of my condition with a knowing look on her face. she showed me some images of persons suffering from my affliction and i had to agree that it sure looked like she had hit the nail on the head with her snap diagnosis.

then she began asking me a few questions. "have you experienced any swelling in the affected area?" yup. "does the swelling increase throughout the day?" yup. "does the affected area feel sore to the touch?" yup. "does the affected area feel dry and itchy?" yup. "have you experienced any hair loss in the affected area?" yup. (i told her about the sudden swath of missing hair that magically appeared on my right shin about a year or so back.) "do you suffer from eczema?" yup. "is there a family history of circulatory problems?" yup.

anyhow, i think you're beginning to get the picture.

thereafter, ms. labcoat went on to mention some of the treatments available to persons suffering from my present ailment - chief among them the use of something known as compression stockings, or elastic support socks as they are more commonly referred to. (perhaps you've seen your aging uncle or elderly grandmother sporting these atrocious garments alongside their sandals or slippers.) essentially, they are extremely tight, knee-high socks designed to redistribute blood flow within the lower legs.

and that's why i feel a little bit older today. because when i visited my local shoppers drug mart to inquire about said stockings, i was told that the selection is much greater at the nearby shoppers home health care outlet. you know, that outlet that is so popular amongst the senior set in your neighbourhood (especially on seniors' day - last thursday of every month) because of its huge selection of assisted-living devices. in fact, when i asked the nice young lady at the home health care shop to show me the selection of support socks, her first response was a quizzical, "are they for you, sir?"

ugh.

"nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. we grow old by deserting our ideals. years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul." - samuel ullman

not quite sure why, but this song always makes me feel better:

hey people!!!! i need your help

dear reader,

as you may have noticed, i recently added a new blogger feature to this blog. if you look at the bottom of each post, you will now see a reaction feature (funny/interesting/boring). the problem is that even after you or i click on one of the three reaction choices, the moment you or i leave the blogger website, the accumulated tally of clicks for each reaction returns to zero. at least it does on my computer.

so here's the question. do any of you know why this may be happening and/or what i can do to remedy the problem?

and remember, when it comes to technology, i'm no rs.

your consideration in this matter is greatly appreciated.

yours sincerely,

(illegible signature)

xxxxxxxx

p.s i think it works now.

procrastination is just another word for laziness

"of course, if you really want something done badly enough, just do it yourself." - author unknown

if i had a nickel for every time that someone said to me, "i'll do it later," i would be a billionaire by now. or at least a millionaire. because you can dress up inactivity any way you like. and you can make up excuses until you're blue in the face. but in the end, you will never convince me that procrastination is anything other than a fancy five-dollar word for laziness.

now i once said that there is nothing i dislike more in another person than dishonesty. and when someone says that he will do something later, i know (and he knows) that he has no intention of ever completing that task. so you see, procrastination isn't just about laziness then. it's about being true (or untrue) to one's word.

quite frankly, i have never understood why someone would choose to complete later a task that he could just as easily choose to complete now. after all, by completing the task now, one leaves oneself the opportunity to complete another task later with the free time that has just been created. (um, i think that makes sense.)

and on an even more profound level, i wonder why it is in the first place that some folks choose to complete tasks as soon as they present themselves while other folks choose to plop themselves down in front of the tv and tell themselves that the task can wait until later. or put another way, why does it seem that some of us are hardwired to do as much as possible as soon as possible while others just don't seem to operate under that same sense of urgency? is it a question of nature versus nurture? is it an issue of age and maturity? or is it simply a matter of priorities?

once, out of curiosity, i asked one of my less "inspired" friends back in high school why it was that he seemed so reluctant to step up and get the job done when asked to do so by his parents or teachers. his response? "i have nothing much to do anyway, so what's the rush?" i guess what he meant was that he, personally, felt so little motivation to work hard because he had so little to fill his day with anyway, other than the one or two measly tasks he was typically responsible for. which leads to the chicken-or-egg-style query: does being busy lead to a strong work ethic or does a strong work ethic lead to being busy?

"you know what amazes me though? that there aren't more people out there who are like me." - anonymous

here's a suggestion as to something you can do with your free time:

and here's another:

what would freud say

i once lamented my present-day lack of dreaming in the pages of this blog. i used to dream, i wrote, but not recently. and then last weekend, something odd and mysterious happened. i had a dream. but not a good dream. a bad dream. a nightmare. but i don't really want to write about my nightmare from last weekend. how come, you may ask? well, to be perfectly honest, i've already forgotten most of the details of said dream. instead, i would prefer to discuss the details of the four different types of nightmares that i experienced on a fairly consistent basis when i was younger. with your permission, of course.

one, the broken teeth nightmare

synopsis: in a nutshell, i wake up (in my dream) and make my way to the bathroom. there i look at myself in the mirror only to discover that my teeth have begun to shatter spontaneously inside my mouth. then i stumble about my home as more and more of my teeth break off and fall from my lips.

epilogue: upon waking, i would immediately sprint to my bathroom mirror to ensure that all of my pearly whites were still in place. followed by a sigh of relief.

analysis: i've read that this dream symbolizes insecurity about one's physical appearance and a fear of being judged harshly by others. fair enough.

two, the end of the world nightmare

synopsis: to summarize, i wake up (in my dream) and amble towards my bedroom window. the curtains are always drawn. i slowly open the curtains. when i look outside, i see catastrophic destruction everywhere. buildings have been toppled. trees have been uprooted. smoke billows from burnt-out structures. there is utter silence. and there is no sign of life anywhere to be found.

epilogue: upon waking, i would immediately dart to my bedroom window to ensure that all was well in the universe. followed by a sigh of relief.

analysis: i've heard that this dream symbolizes anxiety over external forces outside of one's control having a disproportionate impact on one's life. makes sense.

three, the falling from the sky nightmare

synopsis: to make a long story short, i find myself falling from the sky, although the source of my fall (i.e. where i had fallen from) is unknown to me. i am not wearing a parachute. i cannot see the earth below me. and then, without warning, i wake up.

epilogue: upon waking, i would immediately begin to scream. i would scream because it would take me a few seconds to appreciate that i was no longer falling. then i would look around my bedroom, regain my bearings, and breathe a sigh of relief.

analysis: i've been told that this dream symbolizes uncertainty over the direction of one's future. seems reasonable.

four, the slow motion chase nightmare

synopsis: in a few words, i realize that i am being chased by a crazed maniac or a wild animal. unfortunately, i am unable to escape as i can only move in slow motion. as the crazed maniac or wild animal closes in on me, panic begins to set in. and then, just as my attacker is about to pounce, i suddenly wake up.

epilogue: upon waking, i would immediately glance about my bedroom in an effort to locate any crazed maniacs or wild animals hiding behind my hamper or under my bed. then i would get up and conduct a quick search of my room. once i was convinced that i was alone, i would breathe a sigh of relief.

analysis: i've seen that this dream symbolizes unease over intense competition in one's personal (relationships) or professional (work or school ) life. it's possible.

afterword

well, that's it for me then on this topic. one more thing though. i just completed a quick google search to determine how common my childhood nightmares are relative to those of the general public. based on my research, it would appear that the first two nightmares listed above are somewhat common while the last two are extremely common among the larger population.

but what's even more interesting is that i have never had a nightmare involving some of the most common nightmare subjects, namely: missing a plane or train, being naked in public, or being trapped.

hmmm, now what was the point of this piece again?

"dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy." - sigmund freud

i assume that she is referring to daydreams and not bad dreams:



p.s. alright rs and rs's critic. i would like you both to calm down. think pleasant thoughts.

don't be a twit, be a twitter

What's happening?_________________________136

_____________________________________________

ugh!

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www an hour of monster hunter on the wii and i'm beat - time to call it a day
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www just had my evening iced peppermint white chocolate mocha from starbucks
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www thinking about where i'll spend my summer vacation - reno or vegas
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tonyrobbins if it's meant to be, it's up to you and me
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www help! off to see "rain" at the canon - row m, seat 27
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walmartcanada price alert: heinz ketchup 1.5 l bottle now only $3 limited time offer
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www just had my afternoon caramel frappuccino from starbucks
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www ouch! living large now that i've had my chest and arms waxed courtesy nadia at the beauty shop
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tonyrobbins search for the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth
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www just had my morning espresso con panna from starbucks
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"it's important that you leave something behind. something that you will be remembered for. it's important that you leave a legacy." - anonymous

small victories

so this morning right after i woke up around 6 am, i was making my way towards the kitchen when i passed by the bathroom and noticed my two-year-old sitting on the toilet all by herself. which wouldn't have been so strange were it not for the fact that i had never seen my two-year-old sitting on the toilet all by herself because, you see, we have been trying for months now, mostly unsuccessfully, to toilet train my daughter. and then, this morning at around 6 am, i just happened to stumble upon my two-year-old sitting on the toilet doing her business like we had been trying to show her since april. and what's even stranger is that she had removed her diaper and placed it in the garbage bin beside the toilet even though we had never shown her that. and she had brought the container of wipes from her bedroom and placed them by the sink even though we had never shown her that.

"um, what are you doing up at 6 am, honey?" i inquired.

"i'm on the toilet," she bluntly responded.

"number one or number two?" i added.

"one," she replied.

"ok, go back to bed then when you're finished."

"they grow up so fast, don't they?" - every old lady my kids and i run into on the elevator

andy kim was also responsible for the archies' 1969 hit "sugar, sugar"



p.s. trying to find a place for the perfect quote ain't easy, t.

p.p.s. don't worry about it, m. no biggie.

p.p.p.s. i agree. the quote must be treated with respect and dignity.

tell me what i want to hear

as i sat there at michel's baguette in yorkdale the other day, i couldn't help but notice how a tall, striking blonde woman in three-inch heels seemed to catch the attention of just about every male within ogling distance of her. it reminded me of a tennis match where the spectators' heads ping-pong back and forth in time with the passing ball. and then i began to wonder what it must be like to be, excuse the phrase, beautiful. beautiful in the purely objective sense of the word, of course, as we all know that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. and then i began to wonder what it must be like to be, how shall i put this, not-so-beautiful. not-so-beautiful in the purely objective sense of the word, of course, as we all know that once again, beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.

because i'm certain that the objectively beautiful women and men of the world must surely be aware by now that men, being men, and women, being women, are prone to glance in their general direction when they walk on by.

and because i'm equally certain that the objectively not-so-beautiful women and men of the world must occasionally notice that men, being men, and women, being women, are prone to glance in the general direction of objectively beautiful women and men when they walk on by. which means that those same men and women are not as inclined to glance in the general direction of those not-so-beautiful women and men when they walk on by. (harsh, yes. but unfortunately, true. and hey, don't shoot the messenger. human nature isn't always fair or kind or compassionate.)

and then i recalled a conversation i had many moons ago, in college if i'm not mistaken, a conversation involving both an objectively beautiful woman and an objectively not-so-beautiful woman. the discussion centred on the issue of whether women (and men) would prefer to be told that they were beautiful or that they were brilliant. beautiful or brilliant... that is the question.

and i recall that the objectively beautiful woman made the point that, in her opinion, an objectively beautiful woman/man would likely prefer to be told that she/he is brilliant given that she/he is likely of the opinion that she/he is beautiful and would gain nothing from such a compliment. and at the same time, an objectively not-so-beautiful woman/man would prefer to be told that she/he is beautiful given that she/he is likely of the opinion that she/he is not so beautiful and would appreciate a few kind words in that general direction.

and i also recall that the objectively not-so-beautiful woman made the point that, in her opinion, the preference as to being told that one is beautiful or brilliant largely depends on the source of the comment. now if memory serves, i think the point she was trying to make was this: one generally prefers to be told that one is beautiful by strangers while one generally prefers to be told that one is brilliant by someone we are familiar with. the reason for this discrepancy? a stranger is incapable of providing insightful commentary on one's intelligence. but a stranger can always provide a snap assessment of one's physical appearance. meanwhile, a friend or family member is probably qualified to speak to one's intelligence and so, their assessment carries considerable weight. at the same time, whether or not a friend or family member finds us attractive is largely irrelevant to us given that a relationship has already been established based on factors, one would hope, other than physical appearance.

i hope that made sense. if not, i'm dumping this post.

and please, no comments about my supposed shallowness. for if you truly believe that beauty is irrelevant in this world, you are simply not being honest with yourself. this is a post about beauty and intelligence, and so i have discussed beauty and intelligence in this post. if you would like to hear my opinions on dollar store batteries or chinese buffets or other important topics of that variety, you can always do so by locating those entries elsewhere on this blog.

"beauty fades. brains last forever." - judge judy

this and "we didn't start the fire" should be mandatory viewing in american history courses:



p.s. someone standing over my shoulder just made the point that most persons would prefer to hear both comments, namely, that they are beautiful and brilliant. point well taken.

waiver of liability: please be advised that the opinions of rs and his father expressed below do not necessarily reflect those of the owners of this blog site.

drop that track

i think i'll lay down a freestyle.

dj, gimme a beat.

i call this one "sold."


(verse 1)
no i don't wanna lay tiles
and i don't wanna save files
cuz i don't wanna miss you
but i don't wanna dis you

(verse 2)
for everything is alright
my alibi is air tight
the log is on the fire
and you can call me liar

(chorus)
when the road... is long
and you don't wanna sing that song
and it's cold... but i ain't old
cuz the house ain't on the block... it's sold

(verse 3)
now the time has come to skip town
put on a smile and don't frown
the future's lookin' brighter
the situation's tighter

(verse 4)
so get your bags and let's go
don't wanna be a no show
the train is at the station
this ain't no damn vacation

(chorus)
when the road... is long
and you don't wanna sing that song
and it's cold... but i ain't old
cuz the house ain't on the block... it's sold

(bridge)
dada dadada
dada dada dada da da

dada dadada
dada dada dada da da

(chorus)
when the road... is long
and you don't wanna sing that song
and it's cold... but i ain't old
cuz the house ain't on the block... it's sold

it's sold
it's sold
the house ain't on the block... it's sold

representing the five boroughs

dollar store batteries

the key to successful shopping at your local dollar store is to take care to purchase only those items that would do you no harm in the event they turn out to be flawed or defective. by harm, i refer to both physical harm and emotional harm. physical harm refers to any threat to one's health or safety. emotional harm refers to any threat to one's psychological well-being, which in my vernacular includes feelings of being cheated or swindled.

so then the question you must ask yourself is this: in a worst-case scenario, is my physical safety or emotional equilibrium at risk owing to the potentially substandard quality of the merchandise paid for and subsequently consumed?

a quick tour of my neighbourhood discount emporium reveals quite the selection in terms of everyday wares available for sale. but once again, the inquiry centres on whether or not the proverbial reasonable man would be willing to score those goods from a shop whose storefront window sports a sign reading: "world cup bobbleheads on sale. now only $1!"

finally, to break it down into layman's terms then, the question is simply this: would anyone acting in their right mind even think of purchasing the following items from a buck store?

- men's sports socks: check. men's cotton briefs: pass.

- modern terry cloth bath mat: check. 17th century cashmere persian rug: pass.

- greeting card: check. sim card: pass.

- universal remote control battery: check. artificial pacemaker battery: pass.

- ceramic dolphin figurine: check. dolphin fin soup mix: pass.

- birthday candles: check. roman candles: pass.

- bottled dishwashing liquid: check. bottled embalming fluid: pass.

- custom rubber flip flops: check. custom vouie luitton leather pumps: pass.

- 12 foot extension cord: check. 12 foot bungee cord: pass.

- herbal throat lozenges: check. herbal high blood pressure lozenges: pass.

oh, and as for the title of this post, the other day i needed to pick up a new 12 volt battery for my garage door remote control thingamajiggy. first i checked out the selection at shoppers drug mart. a two-pack from duracell would run me $10.49. next i hopped on over to radio shack (or what you kids might call the source from circuit city). the damage? $11.99 for a deuce from some company called infinicell. so then i figured i may as well give the nearby strip mall bargain basement a shot. and to my utter surprise and delight, i was able to locate a pair of wellson (?) 12 volt a23 alkaline batteries for a grand total of, get this, one dollar. that's right. i said one dollar. now let's compare and contrast, shall we? shoppers drug mart: $10.49. radio shack: $11.99. ed's don't ask don't tell discount bazaar: $1. alright, so maybe wellson isn't exactly a household name in the electronics industry. oh, and that 1-800 customer service number on the back of the package may no longer be in service. but hey, beggars can't be choosers, right? and for one dollar, who really gives a hoot anyway? and besides, the way i look at it, even if the no-name brand lasts me, say, six months, at a buck a pop, i'm still ahead. of course, that's assuming the brand name batteries weren't going to survive the next six years.

"caveat emptor" - author unknown

the song of the summer 2010 will surely be "california gurls." the song of the summer in 2007 was rihanna's "umbrella." and the song of the summer circa 1980 was "this beat goes on/switchin' to glide" from canada's own one-hit wonders, the kings:

p.s. "drop that track" drops in stores and on itunes on friday, july 16

top nine things that suck about being tall

top nine things that suck about being tall:

(editor's note: the following cannot technically be deemed a "top ten list" as there are only nine items presented for your consideration)

9. old ladies reaching for something off the top shelf at loblaws see me as an easy mark

8. i haven't stood in the front row of a group photo since i was six

7. disappointment is sure to follow when i'm inevitably chosen first in pick-up basketball game at local schoolyard (what with height and hoops acumen not always being synonymous)

6. lightning typically looks for the quickest route to the earth... which, in a field of clovers, is me

5. rental cars ordinarily come in five classes or sizes: economy, compact, intermediate, full size and that really expensive one that i can fit into

4. small children often have trouble distinguishing between tall, furry, big-headed ex-lawyers and your run-of-the-mill ogre

3. nesting robins frequently mistake my balding head for their treebound home base

2. leggy supermodel types in need of towering escorts to accompany them to glitzy functions see me as an easy mark

1. dancing in crowded discotheque may lead to unintentional decapitation of fellow party goers during patented arm-swinging manoeuvre

"stop singing! you're embarrassing me! on purpose! you're trying to humiliate me! deliberately! people can hear you on the street! you're not even a good singer!" - seven in the back seat, with me at the wheel and the radio at full blast (07/14/10)

exhibit "a" in the defamation lawsuit of -------- v. --------

p.s. hey, the kid made me listen to the bieb. now as for the sing-along... i admit there is no excuse for my behaviour. mea culpa.

riddle me this, riddle me that

"what is the one thing that disappears when you say its name? silence."

every time i step into my local bank branch, i am delighted to see the weekly riddle, like the one above, scribbled across the whiteboard behind the counter. and so, in the spirit of paying it forward, and taking into account the fact that i spent no more than fifteen minutes dreaming up the following, i now present my collection of the world's worst riddles:

1. i shift from happy to sad the moment you turn me upside down. what am i?

2. it's there when you sit down but it vanishes the second you stand up. what is it?

3. warm me up and i can't stand still. cool me down and i can barely move. what am i?

4. the longer it waits, the shorter it grows. what is it?

5. i always disappear in the light. what am i?

6. i'm sandwiched between two others very much like me - one earlier and one later. what am i?

"it's a mystery wrapped in a riddle inside an enigma." - jfk: the movie (1991)

1. you are correct
2. you are also correct
3. you, too, are correct (water)
4. you are correct, as well
5. moreover, you are correct
6. and finally, you are correct

couldn't find anything else on topic:

good afternoon sunshine

i was always taught that the purpose of an afternoon nap was to refresh and revitalize oneself in the middle of an otherwise stressful and exhausting day. typically when one awakes from a midday snooze, one is replenished with sufficient clarity and vitality to confront whatever challenges await that individual throughout the remainder of the day.

but i think i may have found an exception to that rule. you see, my two-year-old daughter isn't exactly a model of warmth and congeniality when she awakes from her daily noon-hour catnap. in fact, now that i have spent the past two weeks at home with my kids, i can honestly say that i am a little bit frightened of my youngest when it comes time to greet her following her halftime beauty sleep. i mean, it's not just that the kid is a tad irritable come wakey-wakey time. or unreasonable. or unrelenting. the problem, quite frankly, is that at times my second-born seems a little... well, she seems a little possessed. yes, that's right... possessed. hell, it's gotten so bad that sometimes i just sit by her bed and wait for her head to start spinning. why, i reckon even the most pleasant and accommodating parent would have trouble breaking through the little monkey's impenetrable shell of stubbornness for at least a few minutes following her return to consciousness. are you still having trouble with this picture? the official transcript should help set the record straight:

doting dad: hi honey. time to get up.

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: did you have a nice nap?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: do you feel better now?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: do you want to eat something?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: how about something to drink?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: do you wanna watch waybuloo?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: do you wanna listen to selena gomez?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: how about "naturally"? you don't wanna listen to "naturally"?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: ♪ everything comes naturally ♪ ...

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: ♪ it comes naturally ♪ ...

indignant daughter: no! no!

doting dad: ♪ when you're with me ♪ ...

indignant daughter: no! no! no!

doting dad: baby?

indignant daughter: nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!

doting dad: alright. alright. calm down. just calm down. um... would you rather see mommy now?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: how about your sister?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: is there anything i can do that will make you feel better?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: anything?

indignant daughter: no!

(pause)

doting dad: nothing?

indignant daughter: no!

(pause)

doting dad: uh... do you mind if i change your diaper at least?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: you don't mind?

indignant daughter: no!

doting dad: you do mind?

indignant daughter: no!

(pause)

doting dad: uh, just so we're clear then. you don't want me to change your diaper right now, correct?

"some people dream of success while others wake up and work hard at it." - author unknown

"good day sunshine" would have been more appropriate, but i absolutely hate that tune:

to do list

i must admit that when i first started this blog, i was afraid that i wouldn't be able to conjure up a sufficient number of "important" topics to discuss beyond the first few weeks or so. but then it suddenly dawned on me: why write about "important" topics in the first place? why not simply write about what i feel like writing about? besides, i'm not trying to win a pulitzer prize here. i'm just getting a few things off my chest.

that said, there is now a considerable backlog of "interesting" themes queuing up inside my brain that i have yet to blog about. and so, in order to ensure that i get to each and every one of those potential entries before i lose track of them, i now present the following laundry list of topics du jour for the days and weeks to come:

1. my weekend of classic nightmares
2. numerology: fact or fiction (i stole this one)
3. my grouchy, two-year-old rise and shine baby
4. procrastination is just another word for laziness
5. waiting for the bus runs contrary to the innate human desire to self-actualize
6. the queen and i
7. the great debate: mcflurry desserts - smarties or oreo bits
8. my summer of slack so far
9. why i will no longer call soccer "football"
10. hell hath no fury like my mother after she's been cheated by a crooked mechanic
11. dollar store batteries
12. the unfriendliest radio shack salesman in town
13. it was only a mission statement
14. an afternoon at the theatre
15. rainy days and sundays
16. public swimming hole
17. the inverse relationship between musical taste and volume
18. the world's worst riddles

"time, my friend, is the one thing we got." - author unknown

their other big hit from this era was the first song i ever slow danced to... in public:

more back seat driving games

alright, could i get two minutes and thirty-nine seconds on the clock, please? ready. set. go!

celebration. desecration. elevation. deviation. integration. inebriation. fascination. anticipation. realization. coronation. fabrication. notification. marination. (is that a word - quick google check on the next tab - yup, it's a word) alienation. suffocation. aspiration. mediation. segregation. discrimination. deliberation. immigration. syncopation.

time.

"the right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause." - mark twain

the inspiration (oy, forgot that one):



p.s. i'm sure you noticed that i kept it clean.

hair today, gone tomorrow

i guess it's time to face facts, self. my hair is steadily disappearing and it ain't coming back - at least not in this lifetime.

my shiny brown mop used to be my pride and joy, my raison d'etre, my joie de vivre. believe it or not, my hair was my calling card back in the day, the one thing that people knew me for, other than being the first kid in elementary school to grow a beard.

but this morning in the mirror, i could no longer escape the painful truth that in a certain light, and from a certain angle, i can now make out my scalp underneath my golden brown tresses.

sometimes when i'm conducting my weekly shave, i glance at my reflection in the looking glass and say to myself: maybe i should just keep shaving until i've removed all of the stubble on my head as well. after all, i'm familiar with a couple of colleagues at work who shave their heads (at least i think they shave their heads) and they don't seem any worse for wear. but then i begin to worry that my bald head might appear odd or misshapen or possibly even a little bit disturbing sans cheveux. what if i resemble a psycho killer or an ex-con or a pro wrestler once i'm a cue ball? what if my thinning brown locks have been hiding a mysterious birthmark on my scalp shaped like a constellation or a rorschach test or one of the seven continents?

i'm reminded of those climate change computer model simulations that forecast future land mass shrinkage due to elevated sea levels. i suppose that my receding hairline is best represented by the retreating shorelines of the earth while my ever-expanding scalp more or less corresponds to the gradually rising waters of the globe.

oh well... i wonder what i'll look like sporting a bandana? (happy now?)

"we are so vain that we even care for the opinion of those we don't care for." - marie von ebner-eschenbach

she's actually singing about legendary hollywood playboy (and former beau) warren beatty:

shhh!

so i reckon there is only one thing wrong with movie theatres today: the patrons.

to wit: they kick the back of my chair. they save seats for friends that never show up. they chew their popcorn like cows. they slurp their sodas like spaghetti. they take their seats in front of me thirty seconds before the movie begins and their oversized heads get in my way. they talk on their cells. they hog the armrests. they hang their big, bulky jackets over the backs of their chairs so that their hoods make contact with my knee. they bring their loud, whiny kids to the cinema even though the little angels have no intention of sitting through the entire show due to their short attention spans and even shorter bladders. they nod off right after the opening titles and force me to listen to their quiet purring for the rest of the flick. they get up in the middle of the picture and step on my size 11 dogs as they squeeze by me on the way to the aisle. they talk to the characters on screen as if they were one of the actors in the film. they make out in the dark and produce hideous sounds that resemble sucking and gasping. they cough on me. they sneeze on me. they crack their knuckles. they bite their nails. they mess up on the trivia questions that run before the sneak previews even though the answers have already appeared on screen. they laugh at the wrong time. they cry at the wrong time. when they do laugh, they don't giggle or titter, they cackle. when they do cry, they don't sob or weep, they blubber. they yawn. they sigh. they moan. they sneak homemade sandwiches into the theatre wrapped in noisy tin foil. they spill their drinks on the floor behind me and don't even have the decency to warn me before the sticky runoff reaches my toes. oh, and they always choose to sit next to me even though there are 300 empty seats in the house.

other than that, i really enjoyed my afternoon at the movies today.

"people are funny." - author unknown

no, this is random, although now that i think about it...

food for life

these are a few of my favorite things:

1. scrambled eggs and ketchup
2. celery stalks and cheez whiz
3. mcdonald's french fries and honey mustard sauce
4. tortillas and guacamole
5. brussel sprouts and melted butter
6. bread sticks and nutella
7. spring rolls and plum sauce
8. belgian waffles and vanilla ice cream
9. hard-boiled eggs and sea salt
10. melba toast and cream cheese
11. apples slices and honey
12. pizza crust and marinara sauce
13. giant pretzels and yellow mustard
14. mashed potatoes and brown gravy
15. frozen perogies and cream of mushroom soup
16. pita bread and roasted garlic hummus
17. ripple potato chips and onion dip
18. carrot sticks and french dressing

the word for “life” in hebrew is “chai.” the two hebrew letters that make up the word “chai” are chet and yud. the numerical value of the two hebrew letters: chet is equivalent to 8 and yud is equivalent to 10 (representing the 8th and 10th letters of the alphabet respectively). so “chai”, chet and yud together, equals 18. giving money in multiples of $18 is symbolic of giving “chai” or life. many people give money in multiples of $18 as presents to someone celebrating a birth, a wedding or a bar or bat mitzvah. (source: 2life18.org)

just heard this on sytycd and thought to myself, where was i when this first came out (and pay attention to the city that forms the backdrop of the video):

p.s. i agree, rs. and burger king makes the best onion rings.

pictures of me

the other day a friend asked if i would like a photo of my kids that he had taken at an event attended by our families. it was a great shot admittedly, but i was still rather struck by the actual question itself. after all, i didn't take the picture - my friend did. could he really have thought that i didn't have enough pictures of my children already in my possession?

but that brief encounter led me to a consideration of an even more profound question on the topic of photography - namely, why the big fuss about photographs in the first place?

now to put it mildly, i have never been one to get excited over pictures, be they baby pics or wedding pics or travel pics or nature pics or whatever. for me, a picture is simply an image of someone or something caught at a particular moment in time. meh.

the way i look at it is this: if someone or something is so important that you feel compelled to capture an image of that someone or something with a 12.1 mp canon, well then you probably already have an image of that someone or something permanently etched into your memory. so once again the question arises: why the need for the snaps?

i once recall viewing a news story on tv about a man who risked his life by dashing into his burning home so that he could rescue the family photo album. huh?

and in recent times, it would appear that photographs are mostly brandished by insecure types wishing to emphasize the seeming adventure and excitement of their otherwise humdrum and uneventful lives. one look at my profile page on facebook will certainly attest to the truth of that assertion.

i suppose that when all is said and done, i prefer the authenticity of my memories to the artificiality of high resolution.

"there will be times when you will be in the field without a camera. and you will see the most glorious sunset or the most beautiful scene that you have ever witnessed. don't be bitter because you can't record it. sit down, drink it in, and enjoy it for what it is." - degriff

this is one way that a photograph can actually be put to good use (and yes, that is courteney cox from friends who was dating the lead singer of the band at the time of this video shoot):