I am truly the most unreliable person I know.

Last night, I forgot to pick my mom up from the airport. I thought she was coming in tonight, it was yesterday. She took a taxi home and wasn't all that upset. Why? Because it's not the first time it's happened. In fact, I frequently screw up picking up people at the airport. I also forget to check for phone messages, forget to pass messages from one person to the intended receiver, forget, forget, forget. I've gone from one room to the next and forgot why I was supposed to be there. My mind does not retain important information for one reason or another.

I have a Palm Pilot to remind me of things but I haven't been using it much since I stopped working. I do have a scheduler on my computer so you would think it would help but it doesn't beep when things need to be done and, duh, I forget to check it regularly.

I'm about to become a father and, really, this kid is just not going to be able to count on me. It's really quite scary for me. My only hope is routine. Must train brain through repetition.

Must train brain through repetition.


It's Sort Of A Rule Of Mine

I just finished watching Season Two of The Office. It's one of those works that make me envious of other people's talents and, at the same time, grateful that they managed to create something so beautiful and release it to the world. The series just entered my all time faves and I still have the pleasure of knowing that there are still two extended Christmas specials that I can watch. The whole package (writing, acting, editing, etc.) is so artfully done that I can only hope that the specials don't blow it. Judging from the first two seasons, I trust them to do the right thing and bring the series home.

Now I just gotta get my hands on it.


Telephone Adventures

I can recall two phone calls in my life very vividly.

-Phone call #1: I'm 16 and playing around on my computer.


Hi. Is there a [me] at this number?

Yes, speaking.

Oh! Man! It's me, Jonathon! From Vancouver! I can't believe I finally got a hold of you!


Jonathon. From elementary school!

Uh... Hmm... In Vancouver?
[Note: I lived in Vancouver from age 5 to 11]

Yeah! Jonathon! We used to hang out all the time! We used to be best friends!

Uh, wait. Jon? From school. Oh yeah! Wow. How did you get my number? Where are you?

I'm in Montreal! My family moved back here! I found you in the phone book. We should meet!

Yeah, sure.

Are you a virgin?


Are you a virgin? Have you had sex yet?

Uh... No.

Oh man! You totally should! It's amazing!


Anyways, we should meet. I'll call you back


He never did call back.

-Phone call #2: I'm about 20 and sleeping.

Muh, helomph?

(Indian accent) Baji? Baji, is that you?

Hrmph? What?

Baji! What do you want for your birthday?


What do you want for your birthday?

(finally waking up) Uh, I think, uh, you have the wrong number.


I'm sorry, you have the wrong number.

What do you want for your birthday?

Excuse me, you have the wrong number.


This is not Baji. You have. The wrong. Number.


No, this is NOT Baji. Wrong! Number!

Not Baji?




Oh sorry. (click)


Sometimes I Wonder...

...what goes through Jamie Lynn Spears' head. Her older sister, Britney, lives this very public, fairly surreal life. Jamie Lynn must be aware her life is headed (read: being put) on the same rails that leads to the Britney Spears Exploding Career Bonanza. Is she thinking: this what is expected of me? Does she feel pressure to one-up her sister? What kind of concept does she have of childhood or being an adult or the voyage between the two? Does she quietly lay in her bed at night dreading the future or relishing it?

Everyone has their own Rubicon to cross into adulthood but hers, it must granted, has to be more f'ed up than the norm.

Closing note: Points to Xtina for doing the whole Madonna thing twenty times better than Britney.


Just Give'r

I have been having a small crisis within myself over personal desire. I really, really want a big screen TV but I know that I really can't justify such excess to myself. I try to play it off as the last big, self-involved purchase I'd make (other than replacing things that will eventually breakdown like a car) but it is just so colossally self-centered even I am having a hard time swallowing it.

I could take the money I'd spend on a TV and go to the cinema twice a week for three years. I'd probably get more utility out of the TV though. One friend suggested that if I felt so bad about it I should just 'work it off' with hours of service donated to charity. It's a good idea and might help assuage my conscience but I'm still reeling from the fact at how badly I want it. I can't believe how much personal satisfaction I would derive from it. Strangely, if it were stolen or destroyed I wouldn't really bat an eyelash. I don't think I have an emotional attachment to the object itself but, for me, the attaining of a home theatre has long been a goal of mine. It says to me that I've reached the highest level of personal wealth I care to reach. I have a fair-sized home, a sensible car and the missing piece of my entertainment system would be the final jewel in my First World crown.

Which brings me back to the kind of person that sets goals such as these. I guess I'm just not the same person who made these goals and yet I am the person who won't feel fulfilled without them. I'm being pushed and pulled by my desire for things and my desire to act responsibly as a human. Does the desire to satisfy personal goals outweigh the value of the good I could do with the money elsewhere? Where can I comfortably draw that line? These are questions I'm currently struggling to answer for myself.

I'm closing in on thirty and where and how I draw satisfaction is changing which I'm finding awkward. It's as though I were going through an adolescence of morality. I'm sure having a child will change that even further. I have a lot of thinking to do...