I measure love in depth, not length.
Distance, not time.

It matters not how long you love me or how long I love you, but how hard - how far - how deeply. 

Brain always gets outvoted by heart and dick.

Weight Loss, Wait - Loss?

So. This is my summer fitness program. Roughly.
Wake up.
Run - about 400 calories.
Eat about 400 calories. Sometimes more like 300. A bowl of oatmeal and some fruit.
Then eat dinner and dessert with my family. My estimate is that dinner is a lot of calories - maybe 1000, 1200 maybe. Maybe more, I don't know really.
Then pushups, situps, etc before bed.

And, according to internet, maintenance is around 2300.

So now the question is 'Why? Why do you need to lose weight? You're skinny already." Yeah, well I'm also squishy. What good is being squishy? I'm doing pushups and situps and little things to stop myself from totally wasting away. And I know I'm never going to be a big, muscular, built guy - that's why I have to do this. I'll never be that perfect mesomorph body. But I can be skinny and cut and not squishy.

This sounds so fucked up. It is.

A friend of mine once said that because I like skinny girls, I am the problem with men. She's a little chubby and it probably stems from that. But here's the thing - she likes muscular guys. She's the same as me; she's as bad as I am. If I am what is wrong with men, then she is what is wrong with women. There are a couple differences between us.

At that juncture, she had a boyfriend. So it shouldn't matter to her what kind of girls I like. It has no relevance to her. Also, I decided that I am going to get in shape. I am lighting a candle while she is spiting the darkness -  she wants men to change to accommodate her, while (although, I'd like it if women would just like me for being skinny and squishy because it is more convenient) I am going to get in shape. Perhaps the difference is that she is getting what she wants anyway, so she doesn't need to change anything.

For full discosure's sake, some time after we had the exchange where I am what is wrong with men, myself, her boyfriend and her family (and her grad dress) convinced her to try to get into better shape. But at the time of the exchange, she had no such plans. Also I don't know if she's kept it, as she's graduated now.

Up The Mainstream Without A Paddle

Today I am talking about hipsters. I don't know if I am one, some days I think so, other days when there are actual hipsters around I don't think so.

I have this problem where there is mainstream culture, and then there is hipster/indie culture, and then outside of that there is me. What I am saying is that I am too underground to be a hipster. I am at a greater depth than hipster because there are a lot of hipsters but only one me. What I mean is that I don't know too much mainstream music, I do know a little of the core hipster stuff, but then what about everything else? Most of me falls into everything else. Hipsters won't know my bands and I won't know theirs.

Then you run into the problem of a culture that prides itself on uniqueness and how it is becoming more mainstream and how there is hipster music that is mainstream relative to hipsters but is obscure to mainstream. So is it still hipster to listen to something that is mainstream hipster? And now, I don't mean like listening to Lady Gaga ironically or anything, I mean like Neutral Milk Hotel or Mumford & Sons or The Strokes. It's mainstream to hipster culture, but unknown outside of it. Does this music still bear cred even though every hipster knows it? I would argue that no, if every hipster knows it, it has become too mainstream to be any big deal. I know bands like Phantom Power and Part Timer that most hipsters wouldn't know, so it should be more hipster to know those.

If you base a culture on individualism, you'll find that everyone is individual in the same way.

Layer? And I 'Ardly Even Knew 'Er!

So there's this girl.
Simple.

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend.
Less simple.

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend and he and I are bros.
Troubling.

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend and he and I are bros and also there is this other girl.
Should be simple again.

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend and he and I are bros and also there is this other girl and she has a boyfriend too.
Well shit.

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend and he and I are bros and also there is this other girl and she has a boyfriend too and also there is this other other girl.
Oh okay, phew.

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend and he and I are bros and also there is this other girl and she has a boyfriend too and also there is this other other girl and she's my best friend.
Uh. Yeah. This is either much better of much worse. I'm going with better

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend and he and I are bros and also there is this other girl and she has a boyfriend too and also there is this other other girl and she's my best friend and she's single.

Easiest choice ever, right?

So there's this girl and she has a boyfriend and he and I are bros and also there is this other girl and she has a boyfriend too and also there is this other other girl and she's my best friend and she's single but she's celibate.

Fuck.

XMass

Best.
Christmas.
Ever.

Like, no. You don't understand.
Burger King
Gorillaz album
Stuff and things

Maybe this is really what Christmas is. Fuck the presents. Christmas is good luck. Christmas is winning.
No. Christmas is a good excuse to play on your favourite team. Winning is just the result of that.

Death Of A Party

So I went to a party. I was welcome there. People there liked me. It was a good time I guess.

But I was not wanted. I mean, like I said, I was liked. People were glad that I was there. People were glad that I used my big voice and lead Get Low. I made friends. I made up with Lucas who I had stolen a girl from. I made friends with Taran who seems to be a bit of a hipster (versus me being art-rock indie) in a good way.

But I did not feel at all wanted. Nobody there wanted me. I was not the object of desire. And that made me think. I'm not wanted and therefore didn't have as much fun as I would have if I had been. If I have more fun where I am desired, shouldn't I try to go places where I am desired or try to be desired at the places where I go?

But then, where am I wanted? I can't think of anywhere. I'm not even sure I can think of anyone. Maybe one, but that is a big maybe.

Is This What It Feels Like?

Spongier

A sponge. Takes up a pretty good volume but doesn't weight much. Then you put it in water and it absorbs it. You take it out of the water then - it is maybe a little larger in volume, but it is much heavier. It now has a real weight, but not a bad weight. It is not that the sponge's boots are heavy, but that it is no longer empty. And it will stay all nice and full for a while until it dries up naturally, from evaporation - and when it dries up from evaporation, there is lots of time to dunk it back in the water so that it will be saturated again.
But on the other hand, you can pretty easily wring it out.

Actions, Words, Volume, etc.

Image issues.
Fun.

So recently I did some things that may appear to be acts of a carnal matter. Not true. I helped (and befriended ?) a drunk girl.
In a closet.
While we were in there people had gathered around.
And when we came out I got high-fives.

But we didn't actually fool around. We talked about how much fun Vancouver was and how her ex is terrible and probably how we aren't allowed to fool around because I used to date her bestfriend.
Later she kind of collapses on me on the hostess' bed and we have another deep talk about dying alone and about how she used to not like me, but I'm an all right guy now - but I dated her best friend so I am off limits. Annie comes back with water, and Alex slowly begins the process of sobering up.

This is where I should mention that I kind of thought that sober-Alex mildly disliked me.

Annie and I had a school talk and kind of a girls (well, Bree) talk.

So time passes, taquitos but I don't care. Reagan wanders over and we do a name game. Reagan, Annie, Dan, Lucy. Lucy? No way you are a Lucy. No, really?  Yeah man she's Lucy. Okay, okay, so Lucy and--
Reagan, Annie, Fred, Lucy. Okay, got it. Annie, Fred, Lucy. Lucy and I sneak off and don't fool around until we decide we need to save Annie. Then there is a part that I forget but eventually we end up watching Batman. Annie sits on the couch next to 13-year-old Nicole and Alex sits on the floor. Reegan comes over and calls names again - Annie, Jakob, Natalie (I think). His girlfriend (I think?) calls him away. Nicole gets up to get eats or just to leave because. I steal her seat. She comes back and I offer it back to her but she doesn't take it. Reegan stumbles back over. He might have been trying to get someone's phone number or something. He almost stepped on Nicole. I offered her her seat back. She was reluctant because she had been left to believe I was not a very good guy. She was almost stepped on again, so she took it and I sat on the floor in front of her (between her and Reagan because I could tell she was feeling a little threatened) and next to Alex.

Did I mention that it was her birthday the next day? Oh, well, it was her birthday the next day. Happy birthday if you are reading this.

Eventually Reegan and his girlfriend went home. Alex asked if she was allowed to sleep on my lap. Yeah, sure. So she did. She eventually got cold so I gave her my jacket. For a moment, I thought to myself: 'This is really an okay way for the evening to go.' Space opened up on the couch so we relocated and got Alex a real blanket. Annie and I had a bit of a girls/boys talk and an our relationship (we could be a couple again, but ehn) talk.

Soon enough, time to go came around. I walked Alex and Annie to where they needed to be and phoned my father.

I am leaving out some things probably. Some that I am forgetting, some that I don't want to remember. Any way about it, that is the story of how I am a good dude even though it doesn't look that way all the time. I suppose it is also the story of how I don't get laid - or a chapter therein maybe.