Another Letter
Dear Carlton Cuse, Damon Lindelof, and other members of the LOST brain trust,
Where's Walt?
- Redford.
Back to Work
I imagine not much has changed since I left two months ago. I'm working a day shift so I'm wondering if I get to run into the big boss today, who apparently, has gotten to know my name. It's never a good thing for these people to know your name.
It's funny how this all happens on a Tuesday. Next week I go back to school, and today I go back to work. It feels like an episode of LOST, and that I'm trapped in a situation because I haven't finished what I was supposed to do. Not sure how much I can actually accomplish at work, but, we'll see.
PS: For those of you who have watched Donnie Darko: doesn't it seem as if LOST is heading down the same path? That someone has to do something to set everything right and get everyone back on the same track as before? That the ending will just be a closing out of a circular narrative with all the characters getting back on the plane and having it crash on the island? Because that was what was supposed to happen?
Or, as I've jokingly suggested, Walt is going to come back and kill Locke and save the day. He's going to rub his temples and Locke's head is going to explode, and it'll be the most bizarre ending in TV history.
I’m Sorry Kevin!
I haven't laughed this hard (on my own) in a while, so here it is, I present to you "Shagged by a Rare Parrot":
The Parrot looks oddly like Kevin Dang in some moments, especially with the mouth agape.
Please Click this Photo
Thanks to Krishna for providing me with the photo. It was originally called "Kevin Thinking", hence the thought bubbles in this new pic, which I shall dub, "Kevin Thinks he's a Rare Parrot."
I hope I'm not the only one crazy enough to see a resemblance! The eyes, the mouth open, and I'm sure if Kevin humped something while flapping his arms he'd seem more and more like this parrot here.
The Wire, Softball Socks and Driving
The Wire
I finished it today and it was, without a doubt, the greatest show I've ever watched. Perhaps, will ever watch. It had drama, humour, and great character development as well. The story was so layered, so intricately weaved that you could watch it several times and catch something new each time. Characters who get killed off in the show tend to "haunt" the show after. By that I mean other characters are greatly affected by the death and you can see the toll it takes on them in their eyes.
It's a strong testament to how good a show is when their weakest season (their last season) is probably better than most great seasons of any other show. It neatly tied together pretty much everything in the show and left me completely satisfied. Completely. I strongly urge those of you who haven't watched it to give it a shot. It's a little slow, and the lingo might turn you off, but stick with it and not only will you be rewarded with a great show, but a new way of looking at things in life as well. And how often can you say that about a show?
Socks for Softball
Normally, I wear ankle socks when I wear shorts. It's just something I got used to because I hate having people look at my socks when I'm in shorts, but for softball, it's a different story. Certain situations call for sliding and if I'm in shorts I'm probably going to need a skin graft every time I make one of those plays. Phil suggested that we get ourselves some baseball socks which are longer and will cover your calves to prevent this. I put them on today and I look like a Japanese schoolgirl. They are pretty ridiculous but I will endure it if it saves my legs in the long run.
I also got my Jersey today and I'm fairly disappointed at the number that I got. 13. I wanted number 6, but that was given to a girl on the team (the same one that lectured me on cursing) so I wasn't too happy that I lost out on it. I would have really, really, wanted it, but, what happens happens. Instead I was given my old number, and I hope that it brings me the same luck that it once did when I first wore it.
Driving
I have until August 26th to get my G so I started taking driving lessons again. I'm not really in need of them, just some small habits that I have to change, but apparently, aside from driving with one hand, I have still maintained most of the good habits that I was taught a few years ago. My teacher took me to the highway and he kept telling me to "reach 100," when I was on the ramp, which, somehow for an odd reason, reminded me of Marty trying to reach 88mph in the DeLorean to travel back in time. Unfortunately, this wasn't Back to the Future, and my acceleration didn't result in me going back to the 1950s and trying to persuade my mother to go out with my father.
Rear Window
The thing about growing up is that eventually you have to move out of your house and start living on your own. It's not that big of a deal really, except that, unless you have millions of dollars and are able to live in seclusion, you're going to end up as someone's neighbour. I have a pretty weird impression of neighbours because when I work in my company's call centre, I deal with a lot of calls about people ratting out their neighbours trying to get their cars towed or ticketed. They can give me detailed information about how long that car has parked there for, how often the person does it, as well as how fast my people should get there by in order to catch the driver. Thing is, I don't dispatch those calls since that's the police's job to ticket cars, but the amount of calls I get that deal with those situations is pretty ludicrous. Neighbours are some sneaky bitches.
And it's not often the neighbour that lives beside you too. These people you can trust and I've been fortunate enough to get some pretty cool people living beside me ever since I moved in. It's usually the people who live across the street or on the other end of your street that tend to be the pesky ones. The ones who live close enough for you to see on a daily basis, but far enough so that you can't talk to them regularly, so you end up filling the spaces in between what you see, and what you think you know about them. My neighbour, in a conversation with my mom, told us that he doesn't like the neighbours down the street because the kid wore dreadlocks and "back home in Jamaica, those guys always smoke the marijuana." That kid is 10 years old! And from what I've seen is much too hyper to be high. No one that's high would ride their bikes like a demon down the street while trying to dribble a basketball. Hell, I don't think high people get on bicycles.
Then there's this other neighbour that lives at the end of my street. My dad's been telling me for years that these people own a grow-op because:
1) There's always new, expensive cars visiting their house.
2) They always have the most lights on during Christmas.
3) They have cameras in their garden.
4) No one ever sees them, yet cars are always visiting.
It does look awfully suspicious now doesn't it? I mean, every day there's a new expensive car parked outside the house, but I remember hearing a long time ago that these people were hair stylists. I guess if they're attracting a specific clientele it could explain why there's so many nice cars out there on a regular basis. Grow-Ops apparently use lots of electricity for their hydroponic farms as well, so they try to disguise this during the Christmas season by decking their house with shitloads of lights. This house is usually the first one up with Christmas lights, and I mean early too. By mid-late November they've got it all decked out, but then, how do they hide their electricity use the other days of the year?
I can't explain the cameras for the life of me, but then I guess if you're attracting customers that drive Mercedes SLK model cars and BMW 7 Series, then I suppose you should have some cameras for protection. No one ever sees them too, in my 10 years on this street I've maybe run into them once or twice and that was back when their daughter went to school, yet their grass is always cut and their driveway is always shoveled. One day I hope to run into them and strike up a conversation (preferably with the daughter), but until then it'll be the neighbours speaking for them, filling in the gaps.
It's why I love the Simpsons episode so much, because it parodies Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window. As much as I can appreciate Hitchcock's body of work, I like the parody more because your worst suspicions about your neighbours are often unfounded and there is usually a logical explanation for everything. I don't know what prompts us to think the worst of our neighbours, or to come up with the most exciting explanation for everything, but I guess living in the boring suburbs takes its toll on people so they invent these fantastical stories to liven it up. Even if it's probably crazy.