Every few days someone says they miss me

I woke up in your mental hospital,
Where escaping was misson impossible,
and yeah, I took that hit to the chin,
because I was caught, too busy staring,
at your beautiful headlights,
which were guilty of sparking fist fights,
on random drunken bar nights,
started by uncoordinated drunks, the anti-termites.

I dodge their punches, and your worst moments,
shrugging you off like you were a tiny dancer,
weaving around your lies just like Prancer,
wishing for once you had a straight answer.

I float like a butterfly, and sting like my knee,
scrapped to the bone by the hood of your car,
that ripped me open and sent me so far,
I landed in nevernever land,
where Pepsi and Coke held hands,
along with the other brands,
that feed you black death juice,
an attempt to cook your goose.

The advertisers hated it,
they waited for evisceration,
due to this strange nation,
that was far too content with life,
to worry about content with strife,
or about getting my own life,
rather than just living yours,
through your eyes, vicariously,
as I wander around, precariously,
and nothing falls into place.

You used to have such a beautiful face,
I used to picture it covered in white lace,
I truly believed our love was timeless,
then your demons took over, making you mindless,
your passion died, you were robbed of kindness.

That’s the way love goes,
south and down the drain,
surrounded by some real pathetic fallacy,
thunder storms and rain,
love cheques reverted back to entry-level salary,
all pain and no gain,
thats not the way its supposed to go,
I know life’s a winding road,
and you do what you’re told,
by the media and strange personalities,
they’re flipping out and losing calories,
too busy arguing amongst themselves,
their lies peddled for truth, flying off shelves,

I know pleasure’s supposed to come with pain,
but sometimes I feel life is all rain.

Consume shadows and be free

When life feels broken,
in everything you do,
you must consume shadows.

Eat all the darkness,
swallow your pain,
and all your boredom,
then let it fuel a rebirth.

Redemption is a decision away;
decide, and grow your new skin,
which will carry on your old scars.

Our only legacy is our scar tissue,
that we freely sport for everyone to see,
which represents all the times we’ve been hurt,
and the times we stood back up and challenged life,
unwilling to submit to our failures and broken dreams.

Never let the weight of broken dreams,
or the weight of all your indecision,
chain you to the ground.

Break free,
fly free,
be free.

Living is not about stability;
life is soaring through the sky,
circling around all your dreams,
and everything you love dearly,
but never staying chained down for long.

Don’t let your physical attachment to the earth,
translate into a metaphysical attachment for your dreams.

Be free.

There must be something more

There is something broken about my life;
I remember sleeping more than I remember waking.

Nothing inspires or moves me,
and everything is a ghost of itself;
Am I awake or is this my nightmare?

The ghosts turn to me,
as they tilt their head,
with their hollow, questioning faces…

I will never join them,
I would rather die.

All I feel is doubt;
this can’t be what life feels like,
can it?

When did passion abandon me,
where have hope and potential gone?

Is this how my life will be?

A series of time-killing events,
taking me from sleep to sleep,
until the day I die?

There must be something more than this.

A pressure (an unfinished poem)

There’s a pressure in my head,
that is making me feel sick.

Wwhat is this inside of me,
that I cannot control or name,
and that I cannot exorcise?

I’m running in a circle,
sprinting untily my heart pounds,
so hard it breaks my ribcage.

Where is the pressure building from?

What factors are adding up,
that are forcing me to rethink life,
and the complex events I am,
which I’ve come to call existence?

The light bounces off the ceiling,
castrated and smothered,
by a dusty glass and metal covering,
which represents my potential.

A bright light struggles to light my living room,
against the midnight darkness pouring through my windows,
too much light is bouncing off the worn-down brass fixture,
and I’m failing to live up to my potential too.

That sinking feeling drags me down,
as the night creeps closer to my precious mind,
I feel as though it brings more anxioety.

The biggest loss for Laurentian University: Hobb

I received some terrible news a few weeks ago out of Laurentian University. My favourite professor, and perhaps the most influential intellectual presence in my life to this point, Professor Robert Beckett, is “retiring.” Anybody who has ever been taught by Hobb, as he is affectionately known, can tell you what a special professor he is (was?). I remember when I first met Hobb. I was asked to join the class by my friend John Langdon, as I was looking for another elective and hadn’t decided which one to take just yet. We entered the class, and chatted amongst ourselves, awaiting our new-to-me professor’s arrival.
Hobb entered the class, worked his way to the front (he was given a small room, for a class that obviously couldn’t all fit in there), and started chatting with some of the students he already knew. The discussion was not formal, or an attempt at appearing human, as several professors struggle with, but an honest inquiry on what the students (read:friends) of his had been up to since the last time they had spoken with him. After they had caught up, he turned to the class, ready to begin.
He introduced himself, and told us to call him Hobb (in case anybody is unaware, Hobb is a character in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, which is definitely worth the read). The course was called Philapsyche (a combination of Philosophy and Psychology). He began humbly and honestly, to talk about human existence. Within the first minute of conversation, I knew this class was for me. After a few minutes of lecturing, he turned to the blackboard, and drew a diagram for the class. Although it was not particularly artistic, the idea of it and its image has remained in my mind. There squatted a monkey on all fours, standing on top of the globe. I had never heard anybody refer to humans as monkeys so honestly before.
During the length of the course, Langdon and myself often found ourselves staying after class to have discussions with Hobb. I would visit Hobb often during my last two years of university, commonly exchanging comic books, novels, art books, poetry, DVDs of information, or whatever else we had for one another. A conduit of knowledge was formed that served to launch me into new heights intellectually. I had always been somewhat of an existentialist, but having someone so knowledgable to discuss human existence and the finer points of the human life with propelled me to all new heights.
At first, it was difficult to absorb all of the information I was being handed. Never before had I felt such a raw transfer of thoughts and ideas from one source. Thoughts and ideas are usually funneled and screened, so that the harsh reality looks much more like sunshine and lollipops. There were no sunshines and lollipops waiting to save me. Everything was real, and to truly struggle with the ideas being tossed around meant facing the real issues face-to-face. That was my favourite part of the information. He didn’t show the class a caged beast, and tell them that was the reality of the situation. He let the beast out, and allowed it to roam around freely. Those brave enough were allowed to confront the beast, while the less brave cowered in a corner, and peaked through their hands. They observed just enough of it to pass the class, because they had no interest, or were too afraid, to truly understand it.
I wrestled with every beast. My closest friends, including my lover-at-the-time, suffered or prospered accordingly. I eventually beat every beast and demon, but not without some losses along the way. Like my mythological phoenix, I rose up again everytime. Some rebirths took much longer than others, and some winters were barely survived.
In the end, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. If you want to struggle with life’s biggest questions, you need to struggle with life sometimes. That’s reality. Hobb re-introduced me to the underbelly of life, and I hope everyone understands just how important of a learning experience that was for me.
I will be returning to Laurentian University in the fall, and I wonder what the emotional experience will be like without Hobb there. Who will reach beyond academia, and uncage the beasts of knowledge for students now?
Thank you Hobb, may the shadow of your presence inspire all the remaining students who had the pleasure of being taught by you, and help bring the harsh education provided by reality back to academia.

Cambrian Soccer Recap: Season’s End and OCAA play-offs

I came across a few draft blog entires that I never ended up publishing today, and felt that some of them were well worth publishing. This post was originally written on October 25, 2009, shortly after Cambrian’s soccer season came to an end. Cheers to all of my teammates, the coaches, and the administrators. It was a blast, we had a great season!
After a season filled with up’s (beating Algonquin, Fleming and Seneca) and downs (losing to La Cite, drawing with St. Lawrence, and having 3 goals scored against us in the opening 20 or so minutes against Fleming), the season has come to a close. Our inconsistency followed us into the play-offs. We traveled to play against Humber, not as the proud squad who battled tooth and nail for a play-off spot, but as the complacent, confused squad that fumbled around in losses to easy teams.
It’s no simple task to point out the causes of our many collapses this season. We had a number of factors that contributed to our season not ending as we had hoped (for the most part):
Injuries not a factor
We dealt with a slew of injuries during the season. Whether they were nagging injuries (Arthur Vaies’s season-long groin injury, or Mark Bauer’s season-long knee injury for instance), temporary injuries (Kyle Westenenk’s concussion trouble in the latter half of the season, or Jacob Quinn’s leg injury), or season-ending injuries (Jason Simons’ leg injury), they all pushed other players to step up their game. At times, some of those players were able to step up, and take over the roles left vacant by these injuries. Injuries happen, and any team has to be able to overcome them. For the most part, we dealt well with the injury trouble we were faced with. Most of the players were willing to dig deep and sacrifice to give the team their best, even if they were injured. Injuries were not a significant factor in our season.
Player’s lack of focus and inability to sacrifice an issue
At times, the team suffered from a tremendous lack of focus. This doesn’t just rest on a handful of players tuning out, because it was a fault shared by the entire team. We had a tendency to lose our focus completely, and become a scrambled mess on the pitch. Marking opposing players was generally a strength of our defensive team, but in games like the one against Humber, we made several mistakes that cost us important goals. At least two of the goals were a result of non-existent marking on our part. Another large part of the game that we failed to take advantage of was setting the pace of the game. Against a team with skill, we had to stick to the gameplan: sit back and invite. We also needed to make sure that we upheld the team’s strategy by attacking our opponents at the point on confrontation. We were supposed to make sure that when we do attacked their ball-carrier, we let them know they will not gain space easily. We were relatively successful at this for the first half of the game against Humber, but in the second half our resolve diminshed. We weren’t as physical on them as we could have been either, which was uncharacteristic of our team.

Is pornography killing the male libido?

I read an interesting article by Naomi Wolf in NY Mag this morning, which concerned me. The article proposes the male libido is becoming less and less of a force, and it’s because of pornography. To be honest, I don’t watch much pornography, and never really have. However, I have watched my fair share over the years, and some of it has changed my expectations of sex, and had a large impact on my sexuality.
I’m not sure how to quantify the effect porn has had on my sexuality, or more specifically my libido, but it’s worth discussing the possible effects. Naomi (who is a brilliant author, by the way) claims that porn is making male expectations of sex unreasonable, and males having access to naked women (note: plural) is killing their libido. This debate enters into the realm of how to have a successful family (i.e. the parents staying together) and the adventurous ways that younger women are acting to try and keep the attention of their male counterparts.
I have noticed the young female shift towards adventure more and more the older (or just more experienced) I get. It is not uncommon for females to consider threesomes, or at the very least, kiss another girl while drinking. I’ve had some real shockers lately in the females kissing females category, as I’ve been informed of some fairly devout Catholic girls making out at a bar. The religious denomination is not necessarily the shocker; the fact of who the girls were is though. That’s another story.
My friends, new and old, male and female, know that I am a very sexual person. That is not to be confused with being a “man-whore,” which despite claims to the contrary, is not true. I like to be adventurous, and open with my sexuality, but I don’t think that’s abnormal for a male in his mid-twenties. I’ve put a lot of thought into sexual desire, and what effect porn has on it, but never had I found an article like Naomi’s that discussed the issue so openly. I believe that porn DOES have a negative effect on the male libido, and that IS a serious issue. I’ve experienced a loss of sexual desire when I watch porn too often, and I have all but stopped watching it as a result of that. Monogamy can be a challenge even when the sex life is entertaining, so anything that weakens a couple’s sex life can only be detrimental to the relationship’s chances of survival.
Do you think that pornography is affecting male sexuality negatively? Do you think it’s possible to find a link between increased divorce rate and the rise of porn?