Hey! My friend, Joel, requests his friends and acquaintances make him a birthday something. I try to do this every year, usually just a short audio clip. This year, I decided to make a PodCast to him! Yeah, it is kind of not my usual thing, and it’s very short, but it does contain some (what I consider) excellent recommendations for things to look into!
Seven years ago, I opened my eyes after my 20-something day coma.
I say “I think” in the title, because I have been told this from my parents from very soon after I awoke. My friends tell me all sorts of days different from this. I like it being today because it’s easy to remember.
That makes me, by some accounts, seven years old. I think that’s kind of funny, seeing how I just turned 32 on the 12th.
Any-what-its… I recorded and published the next PodCast on my YouTube channel. Give it a listen, tell me I suck!
Yes, it’s posted as a video. There are no visuals. Feel free to just do something else whilst I drone on and on…
As my previous post announced, the 12th was my birthday! That makes me 32, according to when I was actually born in ’88. That part I am not disputing, as it would be very silly if I did!
My question lies with the fact that they pulled life support back in 2013 on my birthday (mildly poetic) and I was supposed to die that day. I think of that often, and now get reminded every year because my oldest friend’s fiance gave birth on that day to twins.
They are both quite lovely, by the way.
My question is simple: am I 32 or 7?
My good friend Chrissy reminded me that it would not be fair if I became younger than her. I really do have to question why anyone would actually want to be younger than they are? I take great pride in the fact that I am the age I am. My wife is two years older than me, and the changes in pop culture that we experienced are amazing.
I am now going to tangent, as I often do. Is it not strange and awesome that humans are the only species that I know of (leave examples of me being wrong in comments) that keep track of age? We have birthdays, anniversaries, laws and regulations around what you can or cannot do, and competition to see who is the oldest in some circles.
Maybe I’m just thinking too much about it. Maybe I’m onto something interesting. Maybe you just caught me writing another blog to delay writing my next book because I am actually intimidated to screw something up so to avoid doing that, I am just waffling until it mysteriously finishes itself.
I’ll post on the 20th because that day is important.
I am too angry to write.
I don’t have a reason, and this is far from a cry for help. I would blame anxiety or depression, but I’m not sad.
I crave to scream at something, I think? Or maybe, just maybe, I feel like I don’t deserve something? I have no clue. I don’t know why I am this way right now. It might be reading the headlines from our neigbours to the south, or it might be this feeling of being trapped in a world of hate and malice.
Either way, long story short, my birthday is Thursday. I will do the usual hiatus from the twelfth to January, with a Christmas update in between. I am 10,000 words deep into my latest book. I love what I have written so far, but I have been to… messed up?… to write anything for about a week now. I voiced a fear of hating what I have written to a friend of mine, then read it over again and felt better.
I hope I can do a more interesting post before Thursday.
I have an actual delema that I have faced for the last little while, but I have not voiced it (to my memory). This year, on the twelfth, I turn 32. The last time I flatlined was seven years ago on the twelfth. So, my issue is simple: am I 32? Or should I go by the more morbid timestamp of 7?
I mean, I say morbid, but that implies that I have reservations about that fact. I died. I’m okay. I would say that it’s common, that everyone goes through that. I am not sure that is the case, however. Neither of my parents or my brother have. In fact, I only know of a handful that have the ability to say that they have ever flatlined in their life.
Let’s go over the horribly happy list of me not dying! (keep in mind, this is just what I have been told.)
– I was born not breathing and didn’t for a full minute after being born.
– I apparently died on my way from Brantford to Toronto.
– I died on my birthday when I was in hospital.
Now: should I be more disturbed at this list than I am? No, I don’t think so. I would make a sash and have them as badges if I could. Scream at me for being fucked if you want, but I take a great deal of satisfaction that I have the tenacity to survive all of this. I just feel bad for every person reading this right now: you have to deal with me for a long time.
Now, do I want to push my luck? Do I have a great deal of disrespect for mortality now? Do I view myself as immortal?
No. If anything, I am a bit more paranoid of certain events now.
I wonder if I have literally pushed my body through what I have left. Maybe, next time I won’t wake back up. Or, I’ll reach my final form of a potato? I have no idea.
My external hard drive dropped off my desk today. It died, and all my music was on there. So, that’s approximately one terabyte of audio gone. I am not happy about it, obviously.
It’s not news that I usually hate not having physical forms, but what I don’t advertise is that I have a love for my library of digital audio. There is something nice about having all of the music I enjoy at my fingertips.
As far as I can tell, the files are still there. I just need to bring the device somewhere to have them extracted. So, I guess it’s not all horrible. It’s just inconvenient.
BITCH BITCH WHINE WHINE.
How are you?
I have been contemplating what else to do outside of writing and producing. I have considered bolstering my YouTube channel, but that would feel forced. I am currently working on a new book, so writing a screenplay on the side seems a bit cumbersome. I cannot draw, and really do not have an urge to learn.
This is the conundrum that I find myself in: I feel like I should be doing more in the arts, but I have no idea where to put my effort into. Even worse, I hate everything I do even when I am told it’s okay. Hating everything you do is kind of the “artist-dilemma” though. I have yet to meet anyone doing anything involving some sort of art who thinks that their work is greater-than-par. I have met a few who think that they are hitting a new niche, which is cool.
I just keep holding out that Hannah will give me new Chance Procedure things to work on. I made that video for Patient Zero a while ago, and I have an itch to make that a full song. I have been in studio enough to know that you have to be prepared, so I’m not pushing as hard as I could.
Oh! Interesting fact; my old singer (Rahib) just had his birthday! I don’t know why I had an urge to share that on this blog, but there it is! He’s 30, so he is 15 days older than my little brother.
Side note: have you picked up the latest version of my book? It’s almost 3X larger, more grammatically correct, and (I might be biased, but) WAY better. I mean, it’s 1230298341X more depressing, but WAY better. Amazon finally updated some shit, though it’s still awkward to navigate. I have done everything I can on my end to make it easier. Review comes out soon, I hope!
There is something that I haven’t voiced on this blog. Or, at least not in a long time. My friend’s significant other gave birth to a beautiful set of twins on my birthday. What year? The same birthday that they pulled the life support from me and I was expected to die (2013). Needless to say, I never forget how old they are.
I don’t really have much of a blog post to put here, except that I was thinking about it earlier and I felt that I had to share it. Fuck knows my wife is probably sick of me telling her over and over again, so now YOU poor people get to deal with this bit of information.
I just think it a bit of fun trivia. It doesn’t explain reincarnation or the like because I didn’t die. You would think that there would be horrible memories tied to their existence, but quite the opposite. I am happy to share a birthday with them, and extremely proud to have them in my circle. I think my friend is a fantastic father. I’d be remised for not adding that I never pictured him as a father, but that’s a story for another day.
So, that’s your bit of shinfo for the day.
OH! Air cushions are still the worst. I’m sitting here in INCREDIBLE pain and discomfort. I have used so many patches and so much duct tape fixing small holes that keep appearing, but somehow I always miss one or five.
I cannot comment on all air cushions, but this one is split into four quadrants. It makes it easy to estimate where holes are, because just that area is affected. HOWEVER! If it isn’t totally visible, life is lived constantly trying to keep up with inflating and shifting air around the structure. Thank fuck I’m patient and not one to complain offline.
Two more pieces of information shat don’t matter! I hit 150 followers the other day! I’m sure that most of them are advertising and hopes for a follow-for-follow, but I still did it!
And, finally, a reminder that I have a book available! You can buy it here, it is on Amazon, but I’m not going to make that post easy because they are weird about listing that shit. Also, it’s a huge re-write of You’re Not Dead, plus all the anewsinPublishing stuff I had written up to the point of publication! New, sexy, black cover on physical versions. Significantly longer, but not too long to be daunting. GRAH I love it so. I’m just really bad at advertising, so if you wouldn’t mind telling anyone who would be interested about it, that would be nifty!
I am putting in my usual break a bit earlier than usual. That means no updates until the new year. I know it has little bearing when I just got rid of the update scheduel, but I am more posting this so you don’t come expecting anything.
Still new asnP on the first. No additional updates for the rest of November and most of December, though. I like to take this break to relieve my brain of frantically thinking of what to write about next, blog wise. I plan on cleaning up and editing my book in the meantime. That’s all the info you get on that, however.
My birthday is on the 12th. I will be 31, and starting into the fresh hell that is being in my 30’s. My wife assures me that it’s okay, but I’ll reserve judgement.
I found myself in a bit of a jam the other day. I knew I had to write, but I couldn’t find a voice or tone to use. My topics all seemed petty, my vocabulary was dower, and everything seemed wrong. So: I just wrote anyway.
The result? I wrote a script. Not a good one, but it did loosen up areas of insight in my mind. It seemed to be the concept that was drowning my thoughts and not allowing me to continue to write different things.
I will admit: it’s loosely based on a real conversation I had with someone. It paints “me” in a rather pretentious light and her in a horribly arrogant one. I enjoy it, but also acknowledge that it’s very poor in quality. I will be releasing it in the new year under the anewsinPublishing banner because I don’t like to hold anything back.
That brings me to the idea I want to put out there. I am a firm believer in that whatever comes to mind should be written down. That includes if it’s bad. Just get thoughts out there. I find myself stuck on, what feels like, nothing for days on end. I have a document on my desktop full of half-stories that will probably never see the light of day. I just need to get them out, then my brain is no longer full of stupid and generic shit.
Oh! I should mention that it’s my birthday on the 12th! I will be posting my usual masterbatory BIRTHDAY message then vanish for the remainder of the year, like I always do. I’m not entirely sure if it’s going to go the same way that it has in the past, though. I have “foam” coming out on the first, which I am stoked on finally releasing to everyone. I also have a couple applications for things that I want to address as soon as any sort of result comes from them.
It’s starting to be Christmas season once again. Please, consider donating to my Patreon so I can afford to give my wife something nice and my pets food. Even a dollar means the world!