Big Fat Hairy Living

Gerald Hannon: “Decency is the ethics of cowards.”

At work, we’re allowed to choose the code names for our projects. I named my latest project Calatrava, after the Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava. One of my co-workers asked me about the name of my project, and I explained that I chose Caltrava, the spanish architect who designed the atrium at BCE Place. The co-worker gave me a blank stare and asked, “BCE Place?”

Why do I work with philistines?

I bought a new CD this weekend, and didn’t notice the “copy-controlled” logo on it until I popped in into the computer. According to the liner notes, the CD will play on computers, but only using the special player application provided on the CD. I promptly ripped the CD in iTunes. Every track plays perfectly. So much for copy protection.

Heteroburbia drains me of energy.

A large part of what I dislike about my work is where it’s located. Nestled in the middle of a tacky suburb that never accomplished anything to speak of, it’s a frustratingly long distance from anything resembling civilization.

There’s something about being in the city that makes me feel alive and full of energy. Standing at the corner of Yonge and Queen waiting for the streetcar, staring at the old buildings and watching people walk by fills me with a strange sense of calm. Despite the fact that people are rushing back and forth and traffic is filling the streets, I feel peaceful and at home. The city is the place I belong.

Suburbs are disgusting caricatures of cities. They’re horrible, plastic, fake places designed to remove the one aspect of cities that makes them liveable: human interaction. Despite the fact that I can’t stand people, I realize that human interaction is what I need. It might not mean actually talking to people, but simply living in the city, and more specifically in a neighbourhood where I can see people that I know on the street, makes me feel like I’m part of something, that I really am part of a society and not just a consumer of goods or simple breeding stock like my co-workers.

When they reject the city, they reject everyone around them.

I’m a person. They’re not.

The company I work for just announced a salary freeze, effective immediately.

Yay.

Chrissy J. refers to my recent orgy of home decor improvements as my “second wave,” the first wave being all the new furniture I bought when I moved out of the place I lived in with Eric. I refer to it as my religious enlightenment. I have given up atheism and found a god to worship.

Decor is a demanding god, but the rewards of proper worship are many. Today I spent hours praying and making offerings of LACK shelves and metal drywall anchors to him, and in return, he blessed me with a much better-looking bedroom. Once again, the worship and rituals left me sweaty and tired, but this time my boyfriend was around to feed me.

Soon my second wave of offerings to Decor will be complete, and I will be at a new level of spiritual enlightenment. Already I have been having faint visions of what I will need to do for wave three. But for now, wave two is enough. Once it’s complete, Decor will be satisifed that I have passed his test and will leave me in peace until he awakens me for wave three.

My bathroom is done.

Unfortunately, it looks like shit.

Trying to put oneself in someone else’s shoes is always a good thing, but unfortunately most people don’t understand why it’s a good thing. That easily degrades into the idiotic touchy-feely belief that one should accord all points of view equal status and treat them as though they’re all valid.

Sometimes there just isn’t any other point of view that’s worth considering.

Some things cannot be forgiven.

Claude and I met up for some bear-watching tonight. Except for the hot cro-magnonesque bear who only likes Asian guys, it was a pretty disappointing night for bears.

Claude complimented my belly. He says it’s very solid. I’m glad I don’t have a squishy belly or chub segments.