Today comes the true test of coordination the million directions my ponderings have been streaming in.
Let's begin somewhere in the middle, with a big FUCKU to the powers that be that always tell you to begin at the beginning and other such opressive nonsenses.
(sometimes I can feel the reek of your cold hands stealing the breath from me in ragged gasps)
Anachronically, the central event permeating my feeble brain is, again, brekkies with John. I brought up the shocker that Sharat, the man that I've been communicating with in India about helping them build a hospital, laid on me.
He'd asked about my hobbies and things, permissible curiosty, and when I mentioned that I help raise money for cancer research with the CIEL and Q92 ski teams, he JUMPED FOR JOY!!! Well, virtually or proverbially or whatnot.
Apparently they can barely afford materials to build the place, let alone pay their doctor's salaries...
"Can you help us raise money?" he says.
YIKES.
That is *so* out of my league.. I've raised money before, for Dans la Rue, for my high school yearbook. In high school, raising $3000 was a question of sheer heroics, and hey - we did it. BUT we're looking at way more than that here, and that was when I had so much time on my hands... Right now I barely manage to see my friends once a week. And... There's so much more I have to deal with now... Whine, whine WHINE - I'm so ashamed of myself.
So I mentioned it to glorious John, the hope of our generation. (I'll get to the reasons for that later)
John, who ran the ski team last year. John, who over a rushed breakfast, came up with 8 million ideas that I'm going to put together and suggest to Sharat. *AND* he offered to organize fund-raising events.
He's unbelievable.
Woohooooo!
SO why is he so unbelievable? Because he's the exception that proves the rule that Steven and I have been commiserating over all our lives.
It's an obvious question. We've all asked ourselves the same thing a thousand times. What kills me is that so many people haven't...
Hey, who here rates themselves just a regular old shmoe? Who here revels in pop music and Celine Dion and whoever else is currently pouting their way into american hearts?
And yet... So many millions of people go that way. Live that way. Drive that kind of car, and to them, that car is enough justification.
WHY IS IT THAT ANYBODY WORTH THEIR SALT HAS HAD SUCH A FUCKING ROUGH TIME OF IT?!?!?!
Sure. Pain builds character and stamina and stoicism and all the qualities required to be heroic.
I'm starting to understand my megabitch english teacher from CEGEP when she talked about how much she loves war. Because after a war, is when people live their lives to the fullest. Suffering is necessary for beauty and all that.
So really, hypocrite that I am until I find a way out of this catch-22 - in one hand I hold dear wishes for no one to ever have to suffer anymore (I want kids growing up behind me to find someone who will listen, etc...), and in the other hand I hold the hope for humanity and wish to meet people who live as heroes, and at the same time what I'm really doing is damning their childhoods.
Wow. I'm a hypocrite just like my parents. This growing up shit STINKS.
The whole point of being a hormonal teen is naturally enforced suffering, isn't it? Even as humans get lazier and dumber and TV conquers all, something in our pituitary glands won't let us die out.
That's one theory.
So here's where Johnny comes in.
Johnny had an idyllic upbringing. Sure, he was slightly outcast as a child cuz his parents dressed him in leiderhosen for elementary school - but he got over it. His parents are intelligent, kind, generous, loving. They let him grow up independent, but cared for him deeply without trying to control his life. He turned out brilliant, and motivated, beautiful and built like a dancer - and has grace and strength and speed...
... and somehow he's still a romantic inside. He's a gamer, through and through.
He's what every man should be. Didn't have to suffer to understand suffering and learn how to care, and learn how much potential for beauty humanity can have.
And the last car *he* drove was a 1976 Cadillac limo... That we used to hotbox. All 9 of us. Then the bottom fell out. :)
And the lastest itsy bitsy thing on my mind, aside from Sheora's tightly leather-clad ass on EQ and how she's so damn kind to me, or the thorougly breath-catching experience it was to once again peruse hottie pictures of goth babes on da net with cf188, or how even though I didn't have time to go gaming last night (and the GM, Lucky is conveniently in Haligonia) I ran into Marc on the subway home, and I got enough hugs and smiles to get me through this week anyway. :)
What's *really* got me scared is my interview with SoftImage bright'n'early tommorrow morning. For their infrastructure team. Imagine, programming again. In C++. For network applications for their *killer* software.
And all of a sudden I look behind me and realize wot with Coop work terms being four months and all... I've never held down a job for longer than six months. Ever. My longest standing job so far is this one...
I feel like such a quitter, even though it wasn't *entirely* under my control. That's no bleeding excuse.
*shrug* So that's my head for today. And now, mes cheres, I am off to go enable IPFORWARDING. I always forget that bit. ;)
*smoooooooch*