Criticism as Inspiration

The title refers to a grand song by Pedro the Lion. I always liked the title - it sounds kind of catchy.

Sprinkle this post with some creative salt because it's a bit bland.

The Christmas holidays are close in passing with the celebration of New Year's being the only large calender event left. I still have no idea what I'll be doing. Being sick for the past week has also put a damper on some of the festivities. When one comes home to home cooking and a Christmas dinner, one better be able to taste the glory that is a meal cooked by mom or dad. Alas, a mashed potatoe and turkey dinner was wasted on me.

When coming home to BC, one hopes to accomplish a few things. The first would to spend time with friends and family. The second would be to see the beautiful city that is Vancouver. The last would to see the mountains close up. There are, of course extra bonuses that can be thrown into the mix, such as taking a Skytrain, seeing a Canucks game or going for a swim in the ocean. I have felt that my time in BC has encompassed much of this list.

I have spent time with friends and family, I have gone downtown and have seen the enormous construction cranes garnished with colourful festive (heehee) lights, and if all works out, next week I'll be going skiing. I also have stuck my finger into and tasted the creamy and sweet extras of BC this past week as well. On Wednesday, Brian's friend called him up and offered him tickets to a Canucks game. I tagged along and saw them win 6-5 in OT against the blasphemous Flames. We took the Skytrain to get there. My family also got a new kitty. We call him Shoot, and it's very nice. It is sitting and purring on my lap as I type. It is warm.

I have been reacquainted with Scrubs. I forgot how funny that show is.

I shall parallel this post with the sweet and sour chicken rice dish I made a while back. It had potential, and it was filling, but it tasted as if I had a cold. That is to say, it had no taste.

Tigers.

Happy Christmas

Everyone who reads, I hope you guys are having a splendid holiday and that you enjoy the following days to come!

Accidentally In Love

Yarrr, I know I've said it before many times, but gee golly miss molly, time flies by like no other. At the end of August it was my buddies and I, chillaxing, having a good time and these events made me question whether or not I should go to Redeemer. I was having such a good time. But then the flight over to the Stinky O quickly changed my mind as a whole other community that I had left for four months came and surrounded me. No, maybe surrounded doesn't cut it. Maybe it was like I was a bone-dry cloth dropped into a big tub of tasty eggnog - I got soaked with community when I went to Redeemer. And that's my last four months, and sweet glory, what fantastic months they have been. I barely remember the assignments, and I'm just able to recall the late nights talking, watching the office and paying Matt to pee his pants.

The flight home was good. The psudo-allnighter that was pulled the day of the flight kind of knocked the metaphorical teeth out of my metaphorical head, that is to say I was quite tired. My neck felt like it had a small rodent in it, so it was uncomfortable to use the headrest to sleep. I was innovative though, and pull the church sleeping position (we've all done it at one point) where I put my head in my hands. I rested my elbows on the food tray and got some shut-eye like that. Heh, then at one point one of my elbows slipped off the tray mid-sleep and I jolted awake with a surprised "auhhh". The guy sitting next to me must have had a good chuckle.

I had a layover in Calgary then caught another flight over. Things were looking good on that flight when I saw that most people had boarded and that I had an entire row to myself. I parked myself by the window seat and started to relax. Go figure, a family with two small but very vocal girls come and parks their keesters right by me. Maybe it was because I was tired, but this girl was the most annoying person I've ever met on a flight. She should be a sportscaster because she was doing a flippen play by play of the entire flight, with commentary that extended to questions such as "Hey dad! Dad! Daddy! Hey dad! What's this?" as she pointed to the seat belt. All right, I know she's a kid, but who doesn't know what a seat belt looks like? Apparently she did know what it was because she put it on as she was bothering her father, asking what it was. Man, when I have kids I'll drop them off at grandma and grandpa's before I go on a flight. That's what my parents did.

Back to BC. Pretty much when I came here I found another community that I had left, and they too soaked me, but instead of eggnog, they were skim milk in a glorious 4L jug. I like skim milk for the record people. Skim keeps you slim. Hahaha.

Peace, this is getting boring.

Fire and Rain

I've been finding that ones brain only remembers what it wishes to. That is to say that the brain prioritizes information. It most likely puts certain data that we take in through rigorous testing, memory boot camp (Jenny, Jenny!) and possibly a scented oil massage. Then it decides whether or not the information is deemed memorable. For example, my brain apparently seems to think that geography is the quiet kid in the playground who likes to read. You've always known that he was there, and maybe even made an effort to get to know him, but eventually as time passes he is woven into your life's tapestry as a white thread - definably present, but not very recognizable and small in the big picture, more of a fog than an outlined shape in your mind.

I was singing a Weird Al song the other day. I memorized it in grade 7. It was the Star Wars Episode 1 parody to "My my, Miss American something or other...". That song is gold, not only because I had a crush on Natalie Portman, but more so because I am a nerd and like Star Wars. 'Nuff said. This, apparently, my brain deemed important, and I've remembered it ever since.

Winter Ale is in the fridge back home and the only thing that is separating me from it is two exams and the Rockies. Glory, there shall be an all nighter pulled tonight.

Festive Lunch

This is turning out to be the twelve blogs of Christmas. Ha, I'm so funny. But seriously, Gary's a bastard. All he wants to do is play video games, talk or watch movies.

Shoooot.

The best news of the year reached my eyes and tickled my ears with joyful glee this afternoon. The gorgeous Norah Jones has finally announced the release of her next CD. On shelves in late January. I'm tempted to camp out. Glory.

I had lunch with big brother Bri this afternoon. Absolutely fantastic. There's just something about family that makes you giddy. Needless to say I was giggling while I ordered the Festive meal and tricked the server into thinking I wanted a Coke, when they quite obviously only had Pepsi. I like the word festive. It reminds me of jolly obese children talking about Pokemon. Mmm, festive.

So I wanted to write a little thing about language, the written and audible parts, but I just deleted the two hefty paragraphs I had written because I wasn't feeling it. Too jumbled and tangled; not enough straight lines - the ones that I love. Possibly it will have to be a series in where I cover what I think about language. I will say one thing, however. I think it's neat how we have a voice box in our throat that can make controlled sounds when air is passed through it. It's also neat how everyone (usually) has their own unique voice that is recognizable, and that each person has their own way of speaking, their own overused words, their own Picasso and Monet's of audible literature waiting to spew out of them, whether people think that it's literary gold or tabloid crap. Yes, I know those are artist and not novelists. The fact is, the authors that people refer to as genius kind of bug me. I mean, what's the deal with fricken George Elliot and her run on sentences. Geez Louise. Sucks to your asthmar, and sucks to your run on sentences.

MC Cola

Is it wrong that I want a shirt that says "Molten Core" on the front with a single line of text on the back that says "LF39M"? I didn't think so, but for the time being we'll agree that it has no benefit to my life.

I'll be back in a week, and while I carefully plan my schedule, I realize how quick this week will be. Phlorple, this entire semester blazed past me. It's quite a "mystery" to "where" all that "time" went "to". Whatever the case, I'm quite looking forward to chillaxing with my family.

Oh, I remembered what else I'm looking forward to. Going to Granville Island Market.

I'm not going to write about the etiquette of pick up basketball right now because I'm not in the mood and I'd rather be eating breakfast.

I've also decided to call procrastination "Gary." This will allow me to bad mouth him in two effective syllables while personifying an action.

I hope Gary doesn't hang around too much this week. I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but sometimes I just want to hit him in his metaphorical crotch with a frozen sledgehammer and then throw him into a pot of boiling tears. I won't though. Gary is my ally.

I need some food. Peace.

Sneezy McFearson

I love to sneeze. I think it's one of the most unique human actions there is. It's very interesting that we have to expel a lot of air quickly through our mouth or nose sometimes. One of the things that I do dislike however, is when a sneeze dissolves right before is shows itself in full glory. It's almost as if it was tricked into coming up by the trachea.

The Sneeze that Survived
written and illustrated by James Harskamp

(Our story starts in the lungs)

Trachea: Hey Sneeze, how you doing?
Sneeze: You know, pretty well. Living the life down here where the moisture is high and the pH is about 7.3.
Trachea: Hey Sneeze, do you want to know something cool.
Sneeze: Yeah, sure, I would love to hear something cool.
Trachea: Actually, on second thought, I can't really tell you, just forget about it.
Sneeze: No no, you can tell me. What is it?
Trachea: Naaaaaaaaaaaaah.
Sneeze: No, you don't understand. I really want to know what it is.
Trachea: Well, only because you're so eager. Did you know that there's something outside of these bronchioles and alveoli? There's a whole world out there, just waiting to be found!
Sneeze: Are you sure? I mean, it's pretty big down here. I don't believe you.
Trachea: Well, believe what you want, if you’re curious, all you have to do is go to Old Man Epiglottis up there and tell him that I sent you. He'll let you through. Then just go straight up past that little dangly thing and you’ll see what I’m talking about.
Sneeze: Alright, I try it, but I still think you're lying.

(Sneeze Leaves)

Alveolus Sac: Is he gone?
Trachea: Ha ha ha, yeah. He's gone.
Alveolus Sac: Phahaha, what an idiot.

(Meanwhile, past the larynx)

Sneeze: Hey, Old Man Epiglottis, it's Sneeze here.
Epiglottis: Oh, hey there little guy. Heh, you look just like your brother. He came past here last week sometime.
Sneeze: Really? The others told me he was dissolved into the bloodstream to fuel Uncle Interstitial Cell.
Epiglottis: No, no. He said he had to go see something for himself so I let him past. Why are you here?
Sneeze: Well, I guess I kind of want to see what's past these ol' lungs. Trachea said there was a whole world past you.
Epiglottis: Well son, he's right. And I won't stop you if you want to go past. Just make sure you stay away from The Tongue. He's a bit of a bastard. He'll hurl insults at you like David and Adam. You still want to go past?
Sneeze: I have to see if it's for real.

(Past Epiglottis and into the naval cavity)

Sneeze: Hello? Is anyone in here?
Olfactory Hairs: Ya Mon, it's a part-ay in here. Feel that wind mon!
Sneeze: It is quite nice, but where is it coming from?
Olfactory Hairs: Way up there mon, just follow the light.
Sneeze: Alright, that must be what Trachea was talking about.
Olfactory Hairs: I don't know mon, your kind usually doesn't do well up there. They seem to shoot out. But sure, keep on moving if you want.
Sneeze: What's the noise?
Olfactory Hairs: Dat's your key to leave broseph. Those noises be coming from the mouth, they know you're hear. He’s a huffing and puffing. Prepare for departure!
Sneeze: No! I refuse. I will not be shot out into a blind existence. I'm not going out there even if it means I have to claw my way back in.

(After much clawing, Sneeze goes back past Epiglottis and into Trachea)

Sneeze: Trachea, you're a jerk.

The End.


So, I'm pretty sure that's what happens every time you loose a sneeze. I can't stand my trachea. It's such a bad-ass.

Virginia Moon

The snow is melting like the contents of an unplugged freezer. It makes me sad... all that wasted food.

I've been playing a fair amount of ping pong this past month. Considering that my dorm is so close to the Rec. Center, it makes sense that I would occasionally take a brisk stroll through the doors and pick up a paddle. Kierkegaard and I do best of sevens quite often, and then make those best of sevens into best of sevens. The final evolution of this trend seems to be a best of three of the best of seven of the best of seven, thus a total of 32 games need to be won in order to win. I wonder if we'll finish this marathon before we depart our ways for the west. And for the record Stew, I'm going to pwn you. Pass that on to Jeff as well. Adam, you were never a threat, though I still try to bust out your fancy "face on the table, get psyched up" topspin serve.

Now that I've satisfied the egos of the western readers, I'll recap some past events of recent times.

Flarrgen.

Not much has happened. I'm going to study. More coherent entries to come soon.

Oh, and "Virginia Moon" is a song by the Foo Fighters in where the lovely, talented and future fiancé of James Harskamp, Norah Jones, sings back up to a nice acoustic melody.

Tigers.

Mmmm.

It is snowing. There is snow of the ground. 'Nuff said.

I’ve Been Practicing My Regional Diction

As I sit here in my dark room - roommate sleeping, weather snowing, Ben Folds playing, armpits smelling - I feel very content. Sometimes you just are relaxed, almost as if every action you perform feels like your taking a hot shower or sitting in a leather bean bag chair. Sometimes things just click together, like the sick castle Lego set I got for Christmas when I was 10. You remember those glow-in-the-dark ghost pieces? Man, those were sweet.

I saw Stranger than Fiction last night, and I'm fairly sure that it's the best movie I've seen in the past three months. Don't get me wrong, Moulin Rouge was great, but you should have seen me while I watched this movie; I was grinning the whole time like a big idiot. Maybe it was because of the editing in that movie... just fantastic.

Last night in general started off very well. T'was a rainy day (been pouring all week, while BC has our weather) and a group of us went to play some basketball. Just glorious. After that a nap ensued, and then a walk in the now clear, but windy outdoors to Swiss Chalet. After some fantastic chicken and a pint, all of us were in good spirits and made our way over to the movie. Just great. Thus concludes my spending spree of the month. Pity it came on the first of the month.

I've noticed a few things that bug me these past couple of weeks.

1) I know this might seem a bit mean, but it bugs me when I see young people tuck their t-shirts into their jeans. Young is 15-24. Especially when the shirt has a bad design, logo, etc. I don't know why, but it just rubs me the wrong way. Polo shirts tuck in...absolutely fine.
2) Milk in bags. This reminds me of a Jerry Seinfeld act when he's describing how Asians use chop sticks. "We all known they've seen the fork. I mean, you don't see a Chinese farmer working the fields with a couple of pool cues." So Ontario, you've seen the 4L jug. Please, freaking use it. Having to change a bag of milk after 3 bowls of cereal is just ridiculous, and your milk tastes like cheap plastic.
3) The fact that I still visit and read the Warcraft website regularly. Why do I do it? Freakin' eh, I'm not sure. But it bugs me because when someone sees me reading the forums I get embarrassed, and rightly so. Come on James, step it up.
4) The pond that forms in front of our porch when it's rained a little bit. It is quite silly.

Werd.