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Tuesday, December 27, 2011

And so it is...

I didn't think I'd be writing another one of these so soon...

Months ago, I wrote about the tragedy of one of Whistler's most vivacious young people, and her decision to take her life. It pains me to say that, this Christmas season, we lost another one by their own hand. Once again, I didn't know him, but by all accounts, he was a great guy, funny, the person to turn to when you needed a hug, and a hell of a softball pitcher. Over the last couple of days I've spoken to many of his friends, and a gamut of emotion are running through the restaurants and (more regularly) bars: sadness, shock, anger, disgust, guilt. I'm not going to retread any ground here about the senselessness of his fatal actions, but I will say this.

Despite our fun-loving lifestyle, Whistler can be difficult. Some of us aren't sure when the next big payday is going to be, some of us can't stand to see our ex traipsing around town with their new flame, some of us just feel a little lonely, particularly around the holidays. I will never know what Brent was going through that felt he had to do what he did, but I can understand that the weight of the world was bearing down on him.

To my friends, I hope you feel that you can talk to someone, anyone, if things are looking bleak. You'd be surprised where the compassion comes from; real friends won't judge, and no one can help you when you're gone. We're all in this show together, and we need our Safety Nets to keep us out of the mud and elephant shit on the circus floor. With luck and awareness, I won't have to say goodbye to any of you after the fact, just as I know you won't have to say goodbye to me.

Keep shreddin'.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Do I drink when I write, or write when I drink? One suggests that I can't "express myself" in the real (read: sober) world. The other is merely a testament to the stereotype of writing. Hemingway would certainly give me a nod; the man has countless drinks named after him, and he shot himself when he stopped drinking.

Man, that guy could write. He's not for everyone, because his apparent distaste for full stops and his love of the word "and" makes it hard going to read, let alone study. But nevermind. It just feels like, when I'm really 'working', I should have some brown liquor in a glass in front of me, perhaps with some jazz or Sinatra playing.

Such is the life of the wordy. Musing becomes an everyday part of life. Merely considering the infinite "what if?"s can become a full time occupation.
What if I talk to this girl in the grocery store? Where would that conversation lead to?
What if I had sat on the chairlift with some strangers, instead of taking my own chair up? Who knows what would have come about?
What if I choose to stay late at work? What if the love of my life walks in? What if tonight, the night I stay in, turns out to be the best night I ever could have had? What if I bump into Josh Sherry, that guy from elementary school I haven't seen since 1997?

The possibilities are endless. The trick is to follow up on that imagination, and to monitor it. It's why I try not to say no to anything. Within reason; I'm not of the murdering state of mind.

Oh, and apparently it's Christmas soon. I'm going to front the charge for a Local's Christmas, JANUARY 25th. We all have some money, and everything is cheaper because it's post Christmas sales all up in the house, not to mention that Jan. 25th is a wednesday and probably gonna be quiet at your job so you should just drink cheap eggnog and enjoy the non-holiday warmth. Oh, and advent calendars are SUPER cheap.

But I can't do it alone. I need your help. Share the hell out of this post if you read it. Send it to 10 friends: 5 you see on a regular basis, and 5 randoms from your Facebook that you haven't talked to in a while. To the people reading this as a recommendation from a friend: please do the same. Brother needs recognition, and I think this is the way forward.

I'll leave you with this quote from Ernie: If the book is good, is about something that you know, and is truly written, and reading it over you see that this is so, you can let the boys yip and the noise will have that pleasant sound coyotes make on a very cold night when they are out in the snow and you are in your own cabin that you have built or paid for with your work.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Balancing Act

Spoiler Alert: this could get whiny.

Someone asked me the other day if I believe in karma. Now I don't think I do, though I understand the premise. If you're nice to people, then nice things will happen for you. Much like a bank loan, when you give away positive... *sigh* energy... then it eventually returns with interest. This would be hunky dory except for the minor issue that there are some people that don't believe it. Not only that, they don't believe in it, AND they don't see anything wrong with being total dicks to everyone (something that separates me from them.) I'm a good guy because it's morally right, which could be argued is better than karmic belief because I'm not doing it in the hope that good things will happen to me, I just hope that whatever I can do will help someone else have a nicer day. Let's face it, it's always a good feeling when your wallet is returned, cash and cards intact, after you left it on the bus, or when, after a long day at work, someone offers you the comfy seat on the couch.

No, what I believe in is something a little different. And I don't know if it happens to other people, but let me run it past you. Consider a number of glasses, all empty, and one giant jug of water. The glasses represent different areas of your life (friends, work, money, romance, etc) and the water that is about to be poured into these hypothetical receptacles represents how much or how little each is going on in your life. For example, lately, my Money and Job glasses have been drying up, with the Girl glass near on full. The other day though, the Girl in question called it off, and just like magic, my hours (and eventually money) raised to the point of overflowing.
The trick is to find a happy medium between all glasses, to get the best possible combination so you can have a Happiness Drink for the rest of your life (or at least until another tap gets turned on, or the glasses get bigger... but I think my metaphor is starting to fall apart.)
My point being: I don't want to have it all, I just want enough of a little bit. This town is forever changing, and the only stability is the knowledge that nothing is permanent. The one thing that has kept me going during the latest financially meagre weeks is that it seems everyone's Dollar Glass is empty. Now, it seems everyone has won the lottery, and I'm the unlucky sonovabitch that didn't buy a ticket.

Ah well. Stay thirsty, my friends.