Anyways, I was a developer at a smaller web development company that was run more through fear and unreasonable expectations than through proper management savvy. This place also had a habit of paying its female employees lower than the males, despite experience and obvious credentials. I don’t want to draw any correlation here, but I’m sure your mind can work something out on its own.

Before we get into the story, I should point out that in work environments, I tend to be fairly outspoken, and chatty. This doesn’t seem to hinder my work or the work of those around me. This is just how i work; I am a surprisingly social creature at my workplace. People tend to know what I think about what I’m working on, situations at work, and most topics that get discussed around me. Its a good working model for me. Sadly this model didn’t work so well with management at my old job.

The Story

So it was annual review time. A week prior to our expected meetings with our manager I, like everyone else, was given a sheet for a self-analysis review. We were to outline our strengths, weaknesses, goals etc. It was all very open-ended. Well, I thought it was, apparently there was a correct way to fill it out, and I had just missed something. There was a section at the end for goals I wanted to achieve; personally, professionally, etc. I had no real problem coming up with some answers for the professional section, but I was reluctant to list any personal goals. I came up with some answers, submitted my paperwork, and continued on working.

A week later my meeting with management arrives. I step into his uniform, unadorned, clinically sterile office. This was a man about efficiency; he didn’t take bullshit, he felt he didn’t deal in it (this is suspect) and was generally quite boring; well boring except for the fact he could dead lift 300 pounds. Seriously, he worked out like Arnold. He was, however as anal as the boss from The Incredibles. That whole scene with him lining up the pencils on his desk calendar?

That’s a real thing.

He sits me down and we stare at each other in silence for roughly a minute; him with a frown, me with what was probably a bored look on my face. I couldn’t help it; this was not something i wanted to be doing considering the timelines they liked to throw at me. Frankly I had more important things to do with my time than what I considered a formality. Had I known what was to come, I’d have been a bit more on my A game.

He opened with the easy compliments, and then went after my behavior (and his distaste for it), and then said “but the real problem i have today is with your goals.”

“My goals?” I responded. “what about my goals?”

“Well Corey, when i set a goal, i give myself a clear timeframe in which to achieve it by. Say I wanted to read a book, I’d set a goal that I will read that book by March 21, 2007. Your goals,” he says as he motions to my self-analysis paper, “are too vague. You’ll never really achieve them with goals like that. You didn’t even write that many down. You can’t tell me you don’t have goals.”

I tried to hide a smile. My reasoning for vague goals is that I had absolutely no intention of sharing any of my legitimate goals, work, personal, or other to them. I didn’t like working there, and i didn’t like how it was run, and to be honest i didn’t really like them. So yes, my goals were vague and not really defined, which was by design. Apparently my manager took notice of this, and than took the completely wrong impression from it.

Now, not noticing my smirk or utterly unfazed by it, he went on: “we really want you to get some more focus Corey, so here’s what were going to do: we’re going to split your raise for now. You’ll get half now, and we’ll have another chat in a little while and see about that second half.”

Yes, apparently the best way to motivate me into having better goals was to punish my financially.

“Uh, okay.” I responded, not because I was offended (though I should have been), but because their tactic honestly confused me. Did they honestly think this was going to make me more motivated? Apparently so, but they wanted to give me that extra push: ”Something else i want you to do Corey… There’s a movie id like you to watch. Its all about setting goals and keeping focused, despite what comes your way. That’s something else you need to work on: focus.”

As an aside, let it be known that by this point my projects where the only ones that managed to hit any sort of timelines, and I had worked 50 hour work days to make sure i hit those deadlines. Lack of focus my left gingery testicle.

At this point I was honestly trying not to laugh. A movie. Seriously? You’ve just robbed me of half my wage increase, and now you want me to go watch a movie?

“It’s called Rudy. Its a fantastic film, I really think you’ll get a lot out of it. Have you seen it before?” he said, smiling at me in what I assume was his best fatherly smile.

“Nope” said I, still totally blind-sided by the situation, “can’t say that I have.”

“You go home and watch it tonight, then come talk to me tomorrow. I really think you’ll learn a lot.”

“Y..yeah, sure” I muttered. I sat there for a moment longer, before the awkwardness of the moment hit the ’14 year old male doing a presentation in front of his class for sex ed.’ level of uncomfortableness.

I went back to my desk and sat down, and explained to my neighbor (one of the female employees who had similar opinions to my own about the company) and explained what had just gone down in our managers office.. She laughed when I mentioned the video, but refused to tell me what I was in for.

I know why now, and my revenge on her will be devastating.

Before we get to the review…

I am sure a great many number of people love Rudy. It really is a soul-stirrer. Underprivileged guy makes his way into school despite all odds, studies hard, makes it onto the team, and in the end he finally get to achieve his life-long dream of playing for … Whatever the hell football team he adored. I obviously paid close attention.

My problem was probably the fact that I went in watching this movie, I was cynical due to the context in which I was told to watch it; that is, I only got half my raise because of vague goals and an apparent lack of focus. You are going to have to forgive me a bit for my inability to appreciate what may very well be a decent movie. I don’t think any suggested movie can really be appreciated in a similar situation.

Anyways, lets see what I took from Rudy, given the context.

My curt, somewhat biased review of the movie ‘Rudy’

A slow, small, un-athletic teenager from a lower middle class family has a dream of playing for a college football team. He makes sure everyone knows about this dream, and refuses to listen to their pointing out the obvious; namely that he is slow, short, and poor. He starts working at the steel mill with his father, where he continues to tell everyone about his goal in life. Everyone laughs. Rudy is resentful and becomes more determined to prove them wrong.

Rudy heads off to the college and weasels his way into campus life by begging a preacher to sponsor him and then living off of the charity of the groundskeeper. I will give him credit: he is resourceful. He basically lives in the shed in the football stadium.

Fast forward through a montage of Rudy studying hard, applying for the main school and getting rejected every semesters’ end until we have Rudy’s first big (and obvious) break: he gets into the big school. He does, of course continue to study hard, because hell, why not.

So now that Rudy has made it to college, he starts begging to get onto the team. He is obviously denied. It takes more than grades to get onto the team. You need things like skill, strength, and to be roughly 7 inches taller. No matter, obvious job requirements matter not to Rudy. He keeps pestering until he gets onto the maintenance crew for the team and starts befriending the team members. After months of this, he manages to get onto the reserve team. Once again this is due the charity of those in better positions.

Game season starts, and of course he is begging to get onto the team. He’s got moxy! Once again the coach points out that he is too small, slow, and unskilled to ever make it onto the team. Moxy or not, he’s just not a decent fit into a line-up of skilled players. He is almost literally the short, fat kid in the red rover line.

Que another montage. This one involves loads of training, more befriending, and i think there is some sort of half-baked romance in there too. I’m pretty sure his training revolves around a tackle or some such thing. My memory in this is mercifully vague.

About 40 minutes of sappy, endearing crap happens now. It’s just one long ‘everyone against Rudy’s dream’ train, and you are stuck watching it crash and burn. I think he gets to kiss a girl, and there was probably a bar fight. I know that at some point in here, he ends up being super-friends with the main football lineup.

Game day; literally the climax of the film.

It’s the last game of the season.

Rudy hasn’t managed to get onto the main team yet. He is crushed. Luckily, all of the guys on the team love Rudy so damned much by this point in the film, that they threaten to turn in their jerseys to the coach if he doesn’t put Rudy on the team. Once again the coach says no, calling their bluff because Rudy is too small, slow, and unskilled to be an effective team member. Never mind that he montaged his way to probably successful tackle or whatever.

The team follows through, and start to hand over their jerseys until the coach caves and puts Rudy on the team. Success for our poor little beta male! Note that this is the third major example of depending on others to get him where he needs to be. Other than being lovable and studying like a med student on meth, Rudy hasn’t really done that much.

Rudy has made it onto the field, but the coach hasn’t played him; nothing but bench for poor, small Rudy. That is until the team starts chanting “Rudy” or something, and the crowd picks up on this and runs with it. This is supposed to be the emotional build-up that make grown men suddenly have something in their eye. The sap-o-metre is dialed up to 11 for the end of this movie.

There are 4 seconds (I could be wrong here, but I am pretty sure there were less than 10 seconds left) left on the clock. The final play. Team Rudy is up 7-24 (once again this is a guess but there was at lest a 2 down difference). The coach cracks under the pressure of the crowd and puts Rudy in. The coach is a bit of a bitch for peer pressure.

The whistle blows, and rudy performs his singular tackle, enabling him to fulfill his life-long dream at the age of 23 or so, and be carried off the field by his team mates. Fade to black. or Sepia… or… something.

What I learned from being forced to watch ‘Rudy’

By the end of the movie, I was angry. I was also bored, but mostly I was angry. Here’s what I took away from that movie was this:

• It doesn’t matter whether you can or can’t do the job; work hard and suck up and you can make it on the kindness of others.
• Your life-long goal is actually very short0sighted, and after you achieve it, you wont have anything to look forward to. You peaked at 23. Also, your life goal is kind of weak.
• Nothing you contribute to the team actually matters, nor will it actually make a difference or change the outcome of anything you are involved in.
• You are stupid.

So what my manager was telling me (in my eyes) was that I was stupid, got by on the sympathies and kindnesses of others, that nothing I do actually matters, nor do I contribute anything to the team other than some sort of mascot status. Oh, and my goals are shallow and unimportant. I don’t even know if focus was really brought up in the film.

I made sure to tell my manager this the next day. I did make sure to outline that i knew what he expected me to take from it, but I wanted him to know that he should be very careful about what he suggests people to watch. He didn’t seem too pleased with the fact that I basically shat all over his most favouritist movie. I did however manage to leave him utterly speechless.

What happened after this second chat really is a testament to a lack of employee understanding, and what happens when you use 1950s management styles in the new world. That is, a style of management that induces a fear of losing your job if you don’t work harder, as opposed to a method where support your employees.

The day I told my manager my about my take on Rudy was also the day I had signed the jobs death certificate in my head. I stopped talking to people, I stopped being a social person, and worst of all I stopped caring. My work became sloppier and I just didn’t care. Why should I? They already explained that I wasn’t that important, held back half of my raise, and didn’t like how I worked anyways. Oh, and apparently lacked focus, despite evidence to the contrary.

They saw my new, depressingly altered work style and actually attributed it to me focusing more on my work. It was actually quite the opposite; I didn’t care, but they couldn’t tell because they never actually bothered to talk to me about anything.

The end result

Watching Rudy (and the attitude shift that happened after) did drive me to make a rather specific goal: I applied to college for Graphic Design. Right in the height of my “fuck this place I am leaving and I don’t care” phase, they gave me the rest of my raise because I seemed to have a lot more focus. That night, I went home and applied for graphic design school.

That gave me a rather solid deadline in which to achieve a couple more specific goals; pay off my new car, save up as much as possible for school (made easier by the rest of my raise), and quit the job that had robbed me in more ways than my raise.

I guess they were right about the focus, but wrong about the subject.

The lesson?

There are many lessons to take away from here: Don’t make people watch Rudy, don’t withhold raises for terrible reasons; don’t make your life goal to play for a college football team; don’t be afraid to quit your horrible, horrible job; the list goes on and on.

The most important one is actually for the manager: don’t run your shop through fear and doublespeak. Instead of punishing someone for not fitting into your mould, see what they are contributing, and find a way to augment that to the benefit of the company.

Also, don’t be a dick.

P.S. If you’re wondering why this is called Rudy 2, I can field that one. There was at one point a one line blog post on this website that stated ‘Rudy, rudy, rudy, rudaayyyy.’ That’s it. The reason was that I was still working at my former job and feared they’d find my actual thoughts on the subject and sodomize me. It was also a hat tip to the then popular song ‘Ruby’ by the Kaiser Chiefs. Some time down’ the road, I deleted this post due to its utter irrelevance.

I hope you’ve found religion, because I’m going to start doing this more often. What does this mean? This means that Corey is finally getting off his lazy god-damned-ass and is going to start writing words in sequence again.

Now if you put these sequenced words together, you will find that they make sentences. These sentences, when grouped into logical sections well, they become paragraphs. If I can actually manage to put enough of these words onto a page, you could actually become entertained by what may be considered an editorial, a review, or a terrifying essay about clowns that live within your closet, just waiting.

What was I talking about?

Right, connecting words like Dr. Frankenstein. Science!

Anyways, lets move right on to the obligatory ‘whats new with me’ section.

So first off, I’m still alive and still living in London. The weather has become somewhat colder and it’s humorous to see the Londonites becoming terrified by the impending snow. I mean good lord, they could get a whole couple of cm. The world is coming to an end, one snow flake at a time. I, however, am handling the weather fine because as you know: I’m not a total little bitch. Update: It has been snowing all day, and my co-workers are all a cringe.

I’m still working as a front end developer for the rather snazzy Radley Yeldar. Actually, I may have not actually mentioned that in my old post. I’m too lazy to actually read my last post, so just to set the record straight; I do that now, and have been for at least 6 months.

Anywho, I’ll be the first to admit that working as a developer after leaving a job that effectively burned me right out and going to school for a couple years to become a graphic designer may seem, well, counter-intuitive. I’d agree, but given that most of my work is a: cutting up designs; b: doing a metric fuck-tonne of Javascript and jQuery stuff; and c: learning from designers far far far better than me; are all good skill-sets that I need to be subjected to learning more of.

Oh, and It’s not soul-crushing like my last job (there’s an upcoming post on that, trust me on that). I mean I actually get to go home on time (with two nights exception where I had to go home at 11 pm).

As another side-bonus, I’ve become fairly good at jQuery development. I can now develop plugins and such for the more commonly needed effects. I’ll keep you posted if/when they are released to the public. Because of this, I’ll probably end up writing some of my own and posting them here (or on github, or both!) for the world to enjoy. This isn’t a tech blog, but I’m sure some code snippets will creep their way in.

Working this job has reminded me how much fun you can actually have programming. Granted I’ll never really get too far back into the back-end stuff – we’ve got some very talented guys at RY that cover that – but learning about HTML5, jQuery, getting right into web semantics, and CSS3 is sadly exciting to me. Heck, the project I am currently working on (which I cannot talk about quite yet)  has some badass javascript to create some pretty swell user interaction. It’s taken me the better part of a friggin’ week to get it working right, but I’m really happy with how it’s turning out. When it goes live, I’ll be sure to brag about it post a link here.

I am still with Theresa, so anyone who had bets on that, pay up. Also, you guys are dicks. You shouldn’t be betting on things like that. Jesus.

Theresa has a full-time job teaching children. How she handles 3 and 4 year old children I will never know. I would probably have been arrested for mass geno..infans… toddlercide? I’d be a horrible teacher, lets leave it at that. Some of the stories she tells me blow my mind. Sometimes I can’t grasp the fact that 3 year olds can be as smart as she makes them out to me. This leads me to the realization that I have no idea about the learning speed of children. I just assume they’re stupid until the age of about 26 or so.

Oh, I’ve been participating in Movember, which I don’t really see much point in posting here since it’s the end of the month, and I probably won’t get a dime out of you. Regardless, feel free to have a look at my profile page and enjoy faces of the ‘stache. A quick disclaimer: some of them will probably upset you. My face has that power.

Now as for general website stuff.

Now you may have noticed that all pretty much all of the images are broken on the website. This was caused by a server move and something not being installed in the php build. I’ll get that sorted soon. You may also have noticed that the Twitter feed is.. well frozen. This has to do with how twitter’s changed auth, and plugin is being a bit of a shit about it. I’m not overly worried, because of the next point:  There is a site re-design in the machinations.

It was supposed to happen in September, but many things (work, life, being one of the laziest bastards I know, etc) have hampered this. Now that I am forcing myself to get my ass in gear, I’m not even happy with the design I was cooking up (please not this was design 3 that you’ll never ever see).

Basically what I’m saying is that I’m starting over on the design, but I shall be actively producing it, so it is my hope that by the new year I will have the new design up and running. This does mean that I have to learn a bit more about WP 3 but I’m not concerned. I’ll be basically rebuilding everything from the ground up, so wish me luck on that. It’s gonna be fun! Shut up, I know what fun means.Yes I do! Why are you being so hostile? We used to be buds. Is this because I haven’t posted for 6 months? No? You sure? Because that’s what it seems like to me.

Moving on.

I’m also working on a side-project or two that may or may not see the light of day. It’s sort of going to depend on if I and my project bud can get our shit together. Working with an 5 hour time difference is… difficult.

Also also, I’ve been reading, and playing more games. I swear I will bash out some review for them. First I have to get the images thing working again. Baby steps! Feel free to add me to Xbox Live. My Tag is ‘Jack Dutson’.

Until next time kids!

And remember: Only you can prevent forest fires.

Corey signing out.

Anyways, back in March, I was given a fantastic opportunity to visit Japan via a friend of mine. Given that it was a trip to frikkin’ Japan, I couldn’t possibly have said no. Had I known how long the flight was actually going to feel, I might have reconsidered. Going there took somewhere around 18 hours and coming back took almost 24. There’s nothing quite like an 8 hour layover to make you consider killing yourself and/or those around you.

Thankfully the Detroit International Airport has a fantastic massage parlor. Best 30 dollars I have ever spent.

I will also apologize in advance for the load of this page. I’ve got a bunch of photos in this one, so if it takes a while to load… well you’ll have to wait i guess! I’m going to note the numbers of the photos from my flickr just so you can sort of follow along.

In case you are too lazy to visit my flickr set, you can jump to the end of the post, where I have a lovely flash dohickey that will rotate through all of my photos.

For those of you taking breaks between reads for this massive monster post, here’s a quick table of contents for you:

• Getting There (Day One)
• First Impressions: Tokyo (Day Two)
• Day Three (Technically)
• Day Four
• Day Five
• Day Six
• Day Seven
• Day Eight
• In the End
• Photos!

Getting There (Day One)

I didn’t really sleep the night before (I think I slept around 2 hours, and that was a toss-and-turn affair) and by 6 a.m. we were at the Toronto Pearson airport, and by 9 a.m. we were on our way to Detroit, where we were given a lovely 2 hour stop over. To Detroit’s credit, the airport is pretty nice. The area we were in was basically a very, very long tunnel with shops and terminals [ photos 1,2 ]. We ended up sitting around until our next flight, which would bring us straight to Tokyo.

13 hours on a plane is, quite simply, too damned long to be on a plane. I took a couple of interesting photos of Siberia and the ends of the world, which you can find on my flickr album [ photos 3-6 ]. I honestly ran out of things to do while on that flight. I studied a bit of my Japanese (a side project that I’ve been neglecting recently), I played through half of Apollo Justice, and watched a movie or thirty. I had painful cabin fever, and ended up spending a lot of my time just walking around the plane.

To those of you out there that can sleep sitting up, on a plane, or even when uncomfortable: I hate you. I cannot sleep in any of those situations, and so I was up for roughly 40 hours (with a 2 hour pseudo nap) when we finally landed [ photo 7 ].

Another weird thing to get used to: You pretty much lose a day when you fly to Japan. You gain a day when flying back. It sounds simple, but trust me when I say that You will be confused when you get there. Everyone at home is 14 hours behind you. Keep that in mind when you think it’s a good idea to call at 4 in the afternoon Japan Time.

Also, I became sick the day we were leaving (of course) and so as we toured Japan, I ended up wearing a face mask for a better part of the trip.

First Impressions: Tokyo (Day Two)

So when we landed we met Yoshi, our guide for the next week, and were escorted to a bus [ photos 8,9 ]. We drove from the airport directly to our hotel which was located in the Shinjuku Business-ish district. I wish to God I had taken photos of the hotel we stayed at because, frankly, it was fucking awesome. Brand new, and each room was basically a small apartment. Kitchen suite, sliding HD T.V. love seat, and a sweet shower.

I was so enamored with the place that I almost didn’t open my luggage to change. Then I tried and found out that I had lost the key to my luggage. I figured I’d left them in Canada, which was epically  stupid of me. Long story short: after being awake for 40+ hours, there I am 8 p.m. Japan time swinging the largest crowbar I’ve ever held trying to hit a lock that is roughly 1/2 an inch wide. In the end I had to buy new luggage, which set me back roughly 160 Canadian.

Turns out the keys were in my wallet the whole time. I had to laugh when I found them. Then I cried.

Anyways we were taken out for some sort of deep-fried wonder dinner, and then let go to pass out for the night.

Oh and every workplace that requires a uniform basically requires that said uniform be made from polyester. This is so the uniforms can be utterly seamless, unnaturally bright, and shaped in some sort of space-aged Doctor Who style fashion. Spotless and perfect. Freaked me right out.

Day Three (Technically)

When I awoke (at 5:30 Japan Time) Sir and I opted to go walk about once the sun was up and see what was around.We were greeted with sketchy bar streets [ photo 10 ], a sort of micro-shrine [ photos 11-13 ], a Seven Eleven (which are frigging huge in Japan, apparently), and some of the business district which featured some very unique building designs [ photos 14,15 ]. I’d like to point out now that unique building designs is the norm in Japan. We suck architecturally compared to Japan.

After exploring the near surroundings, we were politely shoved onto the tour bus, and off we went to explore Tokyo.

I’m going to make an aside right now, and note that our bus drivers were artists with their bus. They weren’t driving those buses, they were one with them. They could feel the road. When the bus turned, it was by their divine will. The road was their bitch, and their bus their mighty stead. They did things with buses that we didn’t know you could do with buses. They were making turns in busses at speeds that I wouldn’t have done with my Yaris.

Meiji Shrine

Our first stop was to the unrealistically picturesque Meiji Shrine. Words really fail to truly describe just how pretty this place was. There was no garbage, everything was green, the sun was shining, and it was quiet [ photos 16-23, 26-29, 31, 33, 34 ]. Despite being sick and sleep-deprived [ photo 30 ].

While we were there, we got to witness a traditional Wedding Procession [ photos 24,25 ], and I even found where some of the wedding photos had been taken. Nothing is quite as classy as a rug and old Victorian High back chair placed outside [ photo 32 ].

East Imperial Gardens

Our next stop of the day was the very, very large Eastern Imperial Gardens. Only the eastern ones are open to the public year ’round. The rest of the Gardens are private excluding on the Emperors birthday. What the Emperor needs with that much garden, I have no idea. It was easily the size of a small town.

There was a lot of walking involved in the Eastern Gardens, but well worth the steps. Though much of the area was very open, and not as green as Meiji Shrine, it was pretty none the less [ photos 35-55 ]. The trees were all in bloom, and it was a pleasingly warm day (14 degrees? in March? I’ll take it.) In the background of photo 52, you can see the foundations for what used to be a giant watch tower. It was, apparently, frigging tall. I’m sad it’s gone, but the foundations remain, and are still very impressive.

Ueno

We were running ahead of schedule thanks to Yoshi’s amazing ability to keep us moving without being pushy, and so we took a small detour to the Ueno shopping district. Here the girls (and one boy) went nuts shopping while I went on a hunt for new luggage. I had savaged my old one getting it open (Hulk Riiiiiip).

If you’re wondering what shopping in Tokyo is like, observe the photo above [ photo 56 ]. Now remember that you’re in Tokyo, and every shopping district frigging looks like this. Packed with people, stored stuffed into any available crevice (I was actually told about a hat store that was literally a set of stairs going down. When you got to the bottom of the stairs, that was the end of the store.) The main streets offered you the big names – Lacoste, H&M, Guess, Mark Jacobs, etc. – and all of the side streets, alleys, and holes in the wall featured wares to fill in where big stores missed out.

Also, there are a lot of hat stores. The Japanese friggin’ love their headgear. Cowboy hats and flat caps were the big sellers. I was very tempted to buy some hats myself, but my funding was limited, and the hats were a bit on the costly side. I died a little inside every time I left a hat store empty-handed.

Senso-Ji

Senso-Ji is apparently the oldest temple in Tokyo [ photos 57, 58, 62-65, 72 ]. It’s also easily the busiest one we visited during our entire trip. There were people everywhere. You could barely walk through the bazaar area due to the mass of people [ photos 61,66-69, 71]. The bazaar is so busy and so popular that shops have spilled out into the streets beyond, resulting in a massive outdoor mall. I later found out that this style of shopping district is actually very common (and damned convenient). It’s literally a mall, but outside. There are roofs protecting the major routes from weather, and roads that run across them at set intervals. These intervals make for great signage possibilities [ photo 70 ].

It was all so pretty. Reds and whites all over the place, (fake) cherry blossom branches hanging everywhere, some very stunning architecture, and everyone was just so happy to be out and about. The only drawback to coming here was one of the main gates was under massive reconstruction/restoration and we couldn’t see what we were told was a fantastic sight.

Also, I missed out on a monkey that was wondering around. To make up for it, a very old man sought me out in the crowd just to touch me. He was so damnably happy just to have met me, and he was nothing but smiles. I couldn’t even be afraid of him, he was just that happy to have seen me. I assume he went home that night and pulled out his big list of things to do in life, and crossed one off:

• stand on head for 3 days
• meet a real read-headed person (no dye jobs)
• sit on the toilet for a whole day

I was also taught how one gets a fortune at this temple. It involves a large wooden shaker of sorts, and you tumble it around for a while before tilting it on its side. A stick with a fortune number written on it slides out. You say (or in our case present) the number, and it is given to you… for a fee. I can only assume that divining the future requires you to pay off the demons that plague the layers between realities. That or it’s a cash grab. At least in my case it was a fantastic Engerishy fortune [ photo 60 ].

Tokyo Tower

After Senso-Ji, we were back on the bus, and off to our final destination of the day: Tokyo Tower.  This is one of those places that every kid who has ever watched anime ever simply has to visit. It’s a thing that you just have to do. To say that you went to Tokyo and didn’t go up the tower will get you stoned in some circles.

It wasn’t as tall as I was expecting, but it totally blew my expectations for how orange it was going to be. I knew it was orange, but it sets the bar for al things orange. If oranges hadn’t been called orange when they were first seen, they would have been called Towers or something [ photos 73, 81, 82 ].

Also, I have to take a knee with you here and say this: the Tokyo Tower mascots look like either dog penises, or condoms. I know they’re supposed to be towers, but I just don’t see it. They look like something related to having sex. Either the tool or the peripheral, but they look 18+.

Just saying.

Anyways we waited in que for about 20 minutes while the exceptionally uniformed ladies let exact amounts of people onto the multiple elevators to go up to the first observation deck. We didn’t get tickets to the second deck, because they were something like 1200 yen more per ticket. That adds up when you have roughly 30 people in your group.

So we got up to the observation tower, and the view blew my mind. It’s not something I had ever seen before, given that I’ve never been up the CN Tower (for shame, I know), and my fear of heights makes me wary of such ventures. All that aside, I have never in my life seen a horizon that was buildings [ photos 74-78 ]. In every direction, all you could see were buildings with the occasional green space sprinkled in. There was a shrine near by that was massive in size. We didn’t get to visit it but when I go back there, I’ll be sure to make a stop there.

Another thing I noticed was that all the buildings were unique. Unlike Canada, where a developer may get the chance to develop an entire area, in Japan each building looks like it was its own project. Like they found a different person to conceive each building individually. Hell, when we went to the Umeda Sky Building (later in this post) I actually saw a building with a highway running through the 8th floor.

That just isn’t shit you see here.

On our way down from the tower, we were delighted to find more Engerish [ photo 79 ], and the scariest I don’t know what the hell mascot ever [ photo 80 ]. I don’t know what it’s for, but man, does she mean business. I wouldn’t mess with her. She’s seen things. Terrible, terrible things.

We were then shooed off to a traditional Tempura Dinner, which I actually took a photo of [ photo 83 ]. It’s the only photo of any food I actually ate, which is a shame given some of the cool stuff I actually got to eat.

I have to say that all in all, I’m not really a Tempura fan. I like fish, but that was a lot of goddamned fish. They had fish in formats I couldn’t even understand. Fish Jello? This is a good idea to someone?

Oh, and we got an egg dish that looked suspiciously like an oil painting. I was not a fan of that, either.

Day Four

Day Four marked our first day outing. We got on the bus, bright and early, and head off to Hakone [photos 84,85, 87 ] . En route to Hakone, we got to see Mt. Fuji off in the distance, which was a treat [ photo 86 ]. Apparently it’s normally obscured by cloud cover, so we lucked out on seeing it on such a bright, clear day.

Hakone

Hakone is lodged somewhere in the hilly landscape that makes up a lot of Japans countryside. It is very much what I would identify as a tourist location, except that it was in no way touristy. The only way you can tell is by the fact that there was no one walking around. Seriously, the only people I saw were either waiting for the boat, selling tickets for the boat, or driving the two cars that went through town.

Having said that, Hakone, much like everywhere else we visited (excluding the downtowns of Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka) it was amazingly peaceful. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and there was an arctic wind coming off of the lake. How it was so cold, I have no idea. I’m sure there are things going on with that lake that defy science. I assume the spirits have something to do with it.

I’ll take a moment here to explain that vending machines in Japan are huge, and generally have weird advertisements in them. [ photo 90 ]

Lake Ashi

We approached the dock [ photos 88,89 ], and awaited the arrival of what I thought was going to be a typical lake-based people mover. You know, something you’d see in Toronto or Vancouver. Japan doesn’t fuck around like that. Instead we got a Goddamned Pirate Ship [ photo 91].

That’s right, a pirate ship. Complete with paper mache-inspired fake crew statues [ photo 95 ]. Fun fact: the guy that took my photo with the Cap’n there, was so excited to take my photo that he let out this animalistic scream of pure joy. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing.

As we went along the lake, I couldn’t help but notice just how pretty it all was [ photos 92-94, 96-98 ]. With Fuji in the distance, the picture opportunities just made themselves. If I’d had a more elaborate camera, I would have gone stupid taking photos here.

It took us roughly 40 minutes to get across the lake (Pirates take their sweet-assed time in Japan) and along the way we came across two other ferries. One was a fellow bandit-mover, and the other looked like a prerequisite for riding was a love of champagne and savvy tuxes. Just to make Japan a little more awesome, along the ride, I saw a couple shrines that could only be accessed via boat [ photo 96 ]. Now that’s a shrine that means business.

Mount Komogateke

Mt. Komogatake is one of those mountains that doesn’t look anything like a mountain. When I think of mountains, I think of rock and cliffs and snow caps and climbing equipment. What I wasn’t expecting was greenery running all the way to the top (which is twice as high as the CN Tower). It just looked like a giant hill. Sort of like a grade 6 boy that got his growth spurt way too early. Large, but still kid-looking.

At the base of the mountain-hill was a collection of stores, that I can only assume were for the tourists (a la our group). There was also a golf course, which kind of impressed me, given the local terrain.

We were escorted past all of the shops – salivating for our Yenn like a pack of rabid dogs – to what I can only describe as a cable car station that never had a chance out of the 70′s. It screamed 1973 from every crack in it’s art-deco cement surface. It was all weird curves and… hell it just looked like the 1970s. The one at the top of the mountain looked near identical [ photo 107 ].

We got in the cable car (all 26 of us, as well as natives) and started the 12 minute accent to the top of the mountain. It was a tight group, literally. You couldn’t move in any direction without getting a backpack in the face or a forehead in your eye. I managed to take a couple photos on the way up, though they really don’t give the view any credit [ photos 99,100 ].

Here’s an interesting fact: The tops of mountains are windy. Very, very windy. And cold. Windy and Cold. We were not prepared for this in any way. No one told us these (in retrospect blatantly obvious) facts beforehand. As a result, my ears went totally numb in the 15 minutes I actually spent outside. In that time though, I got some absolutely stunning photos [ photos 101,102, 104 ]. We got the obligatory group shot [ photo 105 ], and then opted to run to the very top of the mountain and visit the tiny shrine [  photo 106]. We came all the way up here, why the hell wouldn’t we run up the muddy, dangerous flag stone steps to see the tiny shrine?

I wish I could remember the story behind the mountain shrine, but all I can recall was a something to do with a dragon that tore up the country side, felt bad, and then settled in the mountains. I’m sure my memory is wrong, but that’s all I can get my memory to pull up.

When we got back into the 70′s building we huddled around a little fire, warming our frozen brains, waiting for the cable car to arrive. When we got back down, we were given some free time to shop, eat, and enjoy the most amazing children’s ride ever [ photo 108 ]. I, as well as some of the students, ended up at a noodle house where I was presented with a very intriguing menu item [ photo 109 ]

In case you’re wondering, I did not end up selecting that specific meal. I opted for something a little less questionable.

Harajuku

After spending far too much money in the biggest gift shop I’ve ever attended, we were moved onto our bus (that somehow navigated the mountain-side and got to the shops before the pirate-ferry had even landed). We coasted along the countryside back towards the population monolith that is Tokyo.

On our way I saw an honest to God Hermit shack. How awesome is that?! I couldn’t even figure out how he got the metal up there to make the shack. Way to go creepy hermit dude. I also found my first bit of graffiti [ photo 110 ], and a dog in a stroller [ photo 111 ]. These were, until the photos were taken, only existing within a realm of theory. I later found out that dog strollers are very common, and graffiti is usually done for effect, and not hooliganism.

Anyways we were delivered almost in the middle of the Harajuku Shopping District. For those of you unaware of what Harajuku is, picture the swankiest shopping street you can. Now imagine that it’s full of alleys that also have swanky awesome stores. Now make it turn in on itself so that it becomes a pretzel of fashion.

That’s almost what Harajuku is, but more majestic [ photos 112,113, 115-117 ].

The girls (and one boy) were utterly beside themselves with joy. To hell with the electric towers (which were awesome, don’t get me wrong) here you could walk around and ogle things in windows with prices that will make your eyes bleed. It was all so pretty, and so very, very expensive.

Expensive, that is, unless you wander down the alleys. This is where the prices go down, the people count goes up, and you get to see some impressively odd stores [ photo 119 ] and and fantastic signage [ photo 118 ]. I counted no less that 5 hat stores in one alley alone, confirming my suspicion that the Japanese have a very (un?)healthy fascination with headgear.

Wandering around Harajuku, I was also introduced to the very publicly advertised Condom Cave. It’s not really a cave so much as a nook. A very,very busy nook. Standing room only sort of busy.

Oh, I also got a can of hot chocolate from a vending machine while walking around. It was warm. And it was good.

The kids piled back onto the bus, laden with bags of over-priced clothing, snacks, and general oddities (we had a kid walking around with a wooden katana and a kamikaze bandanna. We were sent off to dinner, and then more very welcome sleep. I can’t recall what we had for dinner that night, but I think it was pretty tasty.

If anyone wants to know what Tokyo looks like at night here you go [ photos 120, 121 ]:

This photo was taken around 11 P.M. in downtown Tokyo. Notice how bright it is. Tokyo has done away with things like darkness in its streets. Everything was so brightly lit, it was like being at a baseball game at night. With your shadow cast in every direction, you had nothing to fear.

We also took the subway in Tokyo to get around that night. On our way back I snapped a photo for the reserved seating [ photo 122 ]. Fairly normal looking, basically “give up your seat for any of the following: Pregnant Mother, Recent Mother with Child, the Elderly, and the Injured.” All pretty normal right? So why is it that the new mother has a much more pronounced ass? I don’t think the Japanese really thought that pictogram through.

Now remember that I was taking the subway at 11 P.M. on what I think was a Tuesday, though it could have been Wednesday. The amount of people coming out of, and going into, those trains blew my frigging mind. I’ve been on the subway in Toronto, and in London, and nothing prepared me for the mass of buisness suit-clad humanity flowing from those trains. Truly mind-bending.

Day Five

When we awoke, were were shipped onto the bus nice and early so that we could go to the train station.We were being shipped off to Kyoto for the next leg of our trip. We were introduced to the Shinkansen Bullet Train, which went at a speed of around 350… K/H or … M/H… I can’t reacall which, but it was damned fast. I also made sure to get myself a Bento box for the ride.

I was expecting pork, but got fish. The pictures were small and not very detailed. It was still fairly delicious.

Now here’s a story to demonstrate just how awesome Japan is. My friend forgot his camera on the train. we didn’t know this until after it had pulled out of the station at Kyoto. Depressed and despondent, my friend went and told the security staff what had happened. They got him to write down where he was sitting and told him that they would check at the next station.

When the train arrived at the next station (Hiroshima, I believe) the cleaning staff had a look, but could find nothing. My friend was depressed, and assumed that someone had walked off with his camera.

The train staff assured him that when the train was taken in for night cleaning, they would scour the train for his camera, in case it had been moved, or a place overlooked.

The next morning we got a call from the security office in Kyoto. They had found his camera (despite being left where it was for at least 14 hours + downtime) and it was en route, via bullet train, back to kyoto, where it would then be delivered to our hotel.

He got his camera back, completely intact, wrapped in an envelope, wrapped in bubble wrap, and wrapped in another envelope.

That just wouldn’t happen in North America (and wouldn’t, as it would later turn out).

Anyways, when we got to Kyoto station, we were escorted onto another bus that was going to take us around the surrounding area. Our first stop of the day was Nara. Along the way, Yoshi, our tiny yet fantastic guide passed around some candy for us to enjoy [ photos 123, 124 ]. Along the way there, I found a place where taxis are born [ photo 125 ]. There were so many taxis!

Oh, on the way I saw the Nintendo building. I have to say that I was a little let down. I was expecting something more than a white cube.

Nara

Nara is a town about 30-45 minutes outside of Kyoto. It’s a pretty place, and I wish I could have seen more of it while we were there. Most of our time was spend at Todai-Ji – Eastern Great Temple – which is a large temple complex with impressive grounds. It’s a tranquil location that happens to house the worlds largest wooden structure, called the Great Buddha Temple – Daibutsuden – and houses the worlds largest statue of the Buddha Vairocana.

Todai-Ji

Oh, did I mention that deer are sacred in Nara’s Deer Park (where Todai-Ji is located), and the entire grounds of Todai-Ji were overrun with deer (which happen to be protected there)? We were warned not to wave around any paper, because the deer will see it, and the deer will eat it [ photos 126, 128, 133 ].

I have to say that of all the places I visited on this trip, Nara was easily the most relaxing to me. The grounds were clean and quiet, and everything was just so peaceful. I could have spent hours wandering around the Todai-Ji grounds and not even notice the time passing. The grounds were, quite simply, stunning [ 127, 129-132 ].

The inner shrine, housing the Great Buddha Shrine, was a sight all its own. with it’s giant paving stones, it’s golden grass, and it’s fantastic architecture, it was truly something to see. [ 134-138 ]. We took yet another obligatory group shot (I actually don’t have one) and I took another photo of the elusive Yoshi [ photo 139 ]. For a little lady, she did her job amazingly well. To hell with crowds of people and busy schedules. She ruled with a dainty iron fist.

Sadly, most of my photos taken within the shrine itself didn’t turn out. For reasons I can’t understand, 90% of them were blurry. I assume Buddha is camera shy. I did manage to get a couple photos out though [ photo 140-142 ]. Somewhere out there is a photo of my going through a hole in one of the pillars of the temple. From what I was told, if you could fit through the hole, you were eligible to achieve nirvana.

I just fit through. a little wider, and I would have become very, very stuck.

Kasuga Taisha

Also located in Deer Park, the Kasuga Shrine – Kasuga Taisha – is a Shinto shrine created by the Fujiwara family. It’s been rebuilt many times over its life, and apparently has something to do with a renewal cycle. Along the pathways [ photos 143-150 ] were hundreds of stone lanterns that were kept alive via donations from people, familes, and organizations (note that some of the lanterns have papers in them).

When we went into the Shrine, I was amazed at how orange everything was. Much like the Tokyo Tower, this shrine took the colour orange and made it it’s bitch [ photos 151-154 ]. Though it was around this time that I found out about what the colour orange signifies: happiness. Apparently my hair is, in essence, happy. I have happy hair! Alliteration!

In any case the Shrine grounds were very pretty, and filled with stuff that has been standing forever, and just oozed history from their very being [ photos 155-157 ]. This day was easily the most relaxing and reflective day of the trip.

Kyoto at Night

Because if Yoshi’s inhuman ability to get us anywhere ahead of schedule, we had lots of time after dinner in which to explore. We arrived at the hotel (which was not nearly as nice as the first one, but you can’t win them all) we opted to do some wandering around and sauntered over to the Kyoto Train Station.

Bonus: [ photos 158-160 ] these are photos of the 70′s era lounge located in our hotel. Yes, those are porcelain dogs. Yes that’s white leather, and yes, it reminded us all of Scarface.

Now this might sound like a boring option, but if you ever saw the Kyoto Train Station, your jaw would drop. It’s 11 stories tall, including a finished underground area, and it’s full of stores, restaurants (oh my god the restaurants) and was an epic structure in and of itself. It had at least two health clubs in it, and I believe it has two high-end hotels attached to it.

While exploring the outside I came across something amazing:

Astro Boy! [photo 161 ] This is when I found out that Astro Boy (along with everything else done by the same studio) were created in Kyoto! Also, as we went to explore the Train station, I was greeted with some fabulous Engerish [ photos 162-164 ]. Most of the building was closed, sadly, but the restaurants were all open.

All 5 floors of them.

Did I mention that you can go onto the roof of the Kyoto Train station, and walk down to each of the restaurants via their patios? well you can [ photo 165 ]. As it works out, you can actually walk all the way down to the ground level by stairs and escalators. It was awesome. I wish something like this existed in Canada.

On our way back, we opted to stop in at the local 7-11 (seriously, they are everywhere) and see what alcohols they have. I found a rather sketchy rum [ photo 166 ] (at least I think it was rum, could have been anything) but we settled on a rum that came in a medicine bottle. It was called “Dave’s Rum” and from the taste of it, I can only assume that Dave is either an alcoholic, or has no taste buds. As we went back to the hotel, a suped-up van passed us. [ photo 167 ] Now the photo doesn’t give it credit, but I can assure you that it had a totally pink interior.

Day Six

We awoke from our tiny beds, showered in our tiny shower (my head skimmed the top of the shower if I stood up straight, Sir was far less lucky) and were shipped onto the bus to go on a whirlwind adventure through Kyoto. As we only really had one day to see most of the sweet sights, we had to get our A Game on. On our way to our first destination, we crossed a train track (which many of our kids nearly perished on. Don’t play chicken with trains people!) and I snapped a sweet photo [ photo 168 ].

I don’t think I could manage to get a photo like that here if i tried.

Fushimi Inari-taisha

Our first stop was to Fushimi Inari-taisha, a shrine to the Gods of business and if I’m not mistaken, also the Gods of Sake and rice. The first set of temples are to the latter Gods, and the temples further in are to the former. As you go in, there are pathways that lead to smaller shrines and temples, and the pathways are covered in Toriis – Gates – that are all donated by businesses.

Now this shrine held foxes as sacred, but unlike the Deer of Nara who populated the area with no sense of self-preservation, we did not see a single fox.

We wandered around the lower shrine for a while [ photos 169-180 ], before moving off to the inner shrines. A couple of us broke off from the pack to go exploring down a side pathway, and we were rewarded with a bamboo forest, and some private shrines [ photos  188-193 ].

The Inner temple was an interesting sight, lined with fortune stalls and charm stations, it really payed credit to Inari, the God of business and success. We got a couple interesting photos including some posing [ photo 187 ], some more Engerish [ photos 183, 184 ], and some just outright absurd [ photos 185, 186 ].

We traveled through the Torii-riddled pathways [ photos 181, 182, 194, 195 ] back down to the bus, and moved on to our next destination, but only after visiting the shops that lined the bottom of the shrine, and my picking up some of the best sushi I have ever tasted. I don’t have a photo of the place, but she had a wooden cash register, which I do have a photo of [ photo 213 - dont know why it's out of order ]. It blew my mind; it was almost totally made of wood. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t even know if it worked, or if she just pretended.

Either way that sushi was damned tasty.

Sanjisangen-do

Our next stop was Sanjisangen-do, which translates, quite literally to Hall With Thirty Three Spaces Between Columns, but is normally referred to as Rengeo-in, which translates to Hall of the Lotus King. Photos were not allowed to be taken within the hall itself, which is a damned shame, because it was stunning. There are roughly 1000 statues of the Kannon. My Buddhism is sketchy, so I can’t recall exactly what she was but from what I understand she had something to do about the embodiment of compassion.

If any accomplished Buddhists would like to correct me, I’d be happy to make the edit.

Anyways, upon entering, we were greeted with some pseudo-engrish [ photo 196 ], and told that we were not allowed to wear shoes within the hall. It was colder in the hall than it really should have been, and man, all those statues were so well done. They were amazingly preserved considering how old they are. The newest ones are from the 13th century, which makes them almost 800 years old, and given how good they looked, I couldn’t help but be impressed.

When we got out of the hall, I put my shoes back on and started exploring the rest of the grounds. I swear it was amazing. [ photos 197-212 ]. They had fantastic trees in full bloom, and if I’m not mistaken, some of those photos have cherry blossoms in them. We wandered around the grounds for a while before we were escorted again to visit our next location

Kinkaku-ji

Kinkaku-ji, also known as the Golden Pavilion Temple, is quite simply the most picture-esque location you can visit in Kyoto. I don’t know if you can take a bad photo in this place if you tried [ photos 214-219 ].

As you can see, the photo above was taken with a normal point and shoot, and it looks awesome (in my own, humble opinion) there were people there with lenses as long as my arm, and I’m sure viewing those photos would melt your brain. The grounds were so amazingly green, and wandering through them really does help instill you with peace, despite the fact that there are at least 800 people walking around doing the same thing.

Now from what I understand about the temple, it used to be a Shoguns residence, but was later turned into a temple by one of his sons. It’s been burnt down and rebuilt a couple times due to wars. The top two stories are covered utterly in pure gold leaf.

That’s right, this house was painted in gold. How many people could say that in this day and age?

As you wander around, there are donation shrines that you are supposed to try and throw money into, like a mystical version of a carny game. The only prize is a private blessing by the higher powers. sadly my only attempt bounded off of the side of the bowl, so no lucky blessing for me. I was still rather impressed that I managed to aim that well.

Trust me when I say that I have terrible, terrible aim.

On the way out I managed to snap a photo of a sign telling us that we may not return [ photo 220 ]. I’m sure that’s not what they meant, but it was still rather funny.

Once we were done being wowed by the serene ostentatious-ness of Shoguns past, we piled back into the bus for our next stop, which was something I was looking forward to way more than any straight guy really should.

Kyoto Textile Centre

We arrived at a very normal-looking building, and escorted inside. At first glance, it seemed like a typical office building. Typical, that is, until we rounded the corner and were presented with a fashion catwalk.

Heading up the stairs, we were then presented with as many silk items as you can imagine, and then tripled. Silk shirts, silk ties, silk kimonos, silk fans, silk silk, silk frikkin’ everything. In retrospect I wish I had dropped the extra coin to get myself a tie or two, because the detailing in them was amazing.

What was even more amazing is that they had looms there. They were making the fabric and clothing right in front of us. Tiny, aged Asian women hunched over a table and cloth, wielding their tools, creating art from the fabric. I honestly could have sat there watching them forever, but there was some shopping to be done, and a fashion show to witness.

I picked up a silk kimono for Theresa, a deep purple one featuring Cranes in flight, and winced as I handed over most of my remaining money. At the very least she now has a fabulous kimono. Now all she needs is an excuse to wear it.

Anyways, with a dimming of the lights, and a sudden increase of thumping music, the fashion show was underway. I had to fight my way through a good portion of the crowds just to get the spot that I had, and I was still a good distance away from the catwalk. I wish I could have been closer, but I can assure you that it was impressive [ photos 221-230 ]. One girls kimono stood out from the rest. Easily the most exquisite the last one that came out [ photo 229 ], it was amazing. My camera couldn’t give it the credit it’s due thanks to the crazy lighting they were using.

A couple of our kids opted to ditch the show and try and find a certain martial arts supply store. They got a little lost, and so did we looking for them. Regardless of the delay, we were still way ahead of schedule. You know what that means?

More shopping.

Shopping in Kyoto

Shopping in downtown Kyoto reminded me a lot of shopping on Queen street in Toronto. Except if Queen street ran through the heart of Chinatown, and then china town was frigging huge. I explored more fantastic side streets, and walked through a department store that blew my mind.

Let me tell you something about department stores in Japan. Here we have things like The Bay, and Sears, and they are wide stores that usually have an underground and maybe a second floor. In Japan? They have an underground floor, maybe two, and then at minimum 6 floors going up. Now they may not be quite as wide, but the total shopping area for Japanese department stores dwarfs anything we have here.

Don’t even get me started on the “electric towers” they have there. It’s like Future Shop (or Best Buy, for our American counterparts) but awesome.

Now something to be said about Kyoto is that their questionable areas and their classy areas are crammed very, very close together. [ photos 231-236 ] You will notice that some of the photos feature such colourful things as the “Fetish House” and “Club Laid” but just down the street was the swanky shopping area. It was an interesting experience to say the least.

That night we had some sort of omni-omelet (Okonomiyaki) which didn’t sit all that well with me. Too many weird flavours going on for me to really enjoy. There was also a good-humoured prank that when totally arwy when the prank tool in question was thought to water. Turns out it was an oil of sorts. That didn’t go down all too well.

Kyoto at Night

Unlike Tokyo, which banishes the darkness, Kyoto seems to use it to make everything as artistic as possible. Shadows weren’t scary, but merely added to the ambiance. A group of the children, myself, and some of the other chaperons went on a night time excursion back to the shopping district, to explore some of the many, many areas that we hadn’t got to before. While the chaperons went to a bar for a drink, I went exploring with the kids.

We found a lot of very interesting things. Amongst them:

• [ photo 237 ] – This phone was found outside of a store. It’s a public-use phone, and it’s sitting on a lop-sided desk.
• [ photo 238 ] – A Koi fish the size of my thigh. We found this monster in a shrine that was located in the middle of the shopping district.
• [ photo 239 ] – A coffee shop exhibiting some fantastic Engerish.
• [ photos 240,241 ] – A collection of girls walking around in Disney-themed pajama one-pieces.
• [ photo 242 ] – A tiny dog party. All the dogs were of the same breed, and there were many more that were off camera.
• [ photo 243 ] – a giant, automated crab for a crab food joint. I later found out that this is a chain, and that all of the chains have these massive crab monsters. That made me sad.
• [ photo 244 ]  – A Company called Omnigod. apparently God didn’t just go corporate, he’s gone to the omega.

On our way back – via the Kyoto subway system – I snapped a photo of the prettiest kimono-wearing girl that I saw in my time in Kyoto. Now I’m not a pervert or a creeper, I’m just saying that that girl looked very, very pretty in her Kimono (which was also fantastic).

That’s something about Kyoto I didn’t mention before: girls and ladies in Kyoto will randomly wear their Kimono. There isn’t always ceremony behind the choice, they simply want to look pretty. I have to say that they honestly do look very pretty. Our Sunday finery just doesn’t come close to their day to day Kimonos.

Oh, interesting fact: if a woman’s kimono has long, hanging sleeves, they are not married. If they are cropped to the arm, they are married, or at the very least spoken for.

Day Seven

Osaka

We had to be up early the next day, because we had to dive into the bus and head to Osaka for the day. Now Osaka was an interesting place; with it’s off-shore airport (which we would be visiting soon) and it’s strange mix of eastern and western architecture. It was easy to pick out which building were built by what district, and it really went to show how boring Western architecture tends to be. Straight lines and box towers, oh boy. I managed to take some photos both before, and during our departure from Kyoto, though I wish more had turned out. [ photo 246, 247 ]

As we went through the city, Yoshi told us tidbits about Osaka. Sadly I can’t remember too much, as I was damned tired from having to wake up early. We hit a slight snag, as where we were originally going to park was closed off for a marathon, so we ended up having to take an impressive detour to get to our destination.

Osaka Castle

Osaka Castle [ photo 248 ] was probably the biggest let down of the trip. From the outside it looked fairly impressive, but much like everything else in Japan, it’s apparently had some fire-related issues. That is to say that it’s burnt to the ground at least three times.

That always instills you with confidence.

Now the inside of Osaka castle was pretty much a pseudo-interactive museum, which was a huge bust for me. I was expecting cool castle-related stuff, but instead I got armour behind glass cases, and miniature soldiers dieing in a miniature war. Not really my cup of tea. On that note, they would let you wear some of the stuff [ photo 249, 250 ].

The view was pretty solid, though not nearly as impressive as Tokyo Tower’s [ photo 251-253 ].

Where Osaka Castle really shines is in the grounds surrounding the castle. If they could have made that park any prettier, butterflies would have been showering down self-affirming sparkles. wonderful pathways that lead all over the place, nice and wide, and there were even mini trains that could bring you around for a small fee.

Along the way, one of the kids and I happened across an old man. This old man realized we were Canadian, and then decided to flip the fuck out in the best way possible. He got a photo with us, his smile shattering reality. He was spouting off random English phrases with such joy and effort that I swear he was starting to foam at the mouth. We were worried that he was going to have a heart attack.

Sadly because I ran into the happy man, I missed out on feeding a parrot.

With my mouth.

That’s right.

On our way back to the bus, I snapped a couple photos of the best gate ever [ photo 254 ], and the most amazing minimalist examples of bathroom signs I’ve ever seen [ photo 255, 256 ]. Simply by moving the intersection of lines, they clearly define who was to go where.

And let’s not get started on the toilets in Japan that aren’t space aged. Porcilin Holes in the ground.

Dotombori

For the afternoon, we were introduced to Dotombori [ photo 257, 262, 265, 266 ]. Dotombori is a major attraction in Osaka, and I can see why. It’s a massive, single street that runs along the Canal that shares the streets name. It’s full of bright, colourful signs, a bing-boggling array of stores, and some amazing engineering in terms of fitting that many people into that narrow of an area.

Dotombori is also where I found the next Giant Crab (there were actually two, if you walked long enough to find em). Wikipedia is telling me that these crabs are roughly 6 meters tall, which sounds about right to me. This would turn out to be the least ridiculous thing I would see in Dotombori.

We stopped at a noodle hut at the start of our adventure for lunch. I can honestly say that the place was so typically Japanese that I almost wept. A little old lady cooked everything, and the years of hard noodle labour gave her a permanent arc in her back. She was so hunched and so short that she could just walk under the counter without having to lift it. I slurped those noodles hard, and for good reason: they were fantastic.

I also had the pleasure of consuming what is noted as being “The Worlds Best Hamburger.” Now I’m a pretty big hamburger fan, and even the remote chance that I could eat the worlds best burger was too big an opportunity to pass up. I bought the 350 Yenn burger (that’s roughly 5 dollars at the time) and consumed. It tasted like lasagna. Not in a bad way, but It was by far the most unique taste experience I think I will ever have from biting into a burger.

I’ve got too many things to write them in paragraph form, so here we go:

• [ photo 258 ] – Dragon Gate, one of many, many adult arcades for people to spend their money. The lengths that these places go to entice was almost disgusting. There was one here that I didn’t take a photo of, but I can assure you they had bi-planes hanging outside of their hyper-lit shop.
• [ photo 259 ] – A noodle hut with a dragon on it that obviously suffered one too many head traumas.
• [ photo 260 ] – This is a dog in clothing. This dog just came out of a dog cafe; a place for dog owners to take their dogs and talk about dog dressing and other dog-related topics. This was not the first, nor the last dog in clothing that I would see on my trip.
• [ photo 261 ] – I don’t know what the hell this is, but it’s there, and it’s big.
• [ photos 263, 264 ] – The first and only pet shop I came across in my travels. All the animals were kept in small class boxes (as seen in the photos) and I couldn’t help but want to free them all. We were quickly told to stop taking photos. I can only imagine why.
• [ photo 267 ] – Glico Man. The giant running man is actually the logo for Glico candy, and has been around since 1935. Note the insane use of advertising space on any available surface. Now multiply that by a billion. That’s a good start on the sort of advertising saturation you’ll experience here.
• [ photo 268 ] – I assume this was an advertisement for a bottled green tea or something. I don’t know, but I wanted one of those for myself.
• [ photo 269 ] – I have nothing to say about this photo that it doesn’t say for itself. I don’t know what that store did. I doubt it knew either.

I enjoyed wandering around Dotombori immensely, and I’d love to go back again, if only to get a ride on the ferris wheel. It wasn’t operating that day, which broke my heart a little.

Umeda Sky Building Observatory

the Umeda Sky Building looks like it was built by a man who failed physics class. Two spires with various connecting hallways, and an observation deck with a giant hole in the middle [ photo 270 ].

As we ascended the tower, I couldn’t help but notice the numerous emergency stations along the walls [ photo 271 ]. Now maybe it’s just me, but I can’t help but think they look just a bit too much like Hal for my liking. I was just waiting for the elevator to stop half way up, and start talking to us in an eerily calm voice.

When we got near the top, we had to take a transparent escalator to the top [ photo 272 ]. Basically the Umeda Sky Building doesn’t give a shit about anyone who may find heights scary, and assume that if you’ve come this far, then You’ll have no problem going through a tiny transparent tube to your final destination.

When we got to the top (finally) I was shocked at how retro everything felt. The chairs, sofas, even the observation stations. It all smacked of the 70′s with such gusto that I actually sort of enjoyed it [ photo 273, 276, 278].

The view from the Sky Building was fairly impressive [ photo 275, 277, 279 280 ], but what got me the most was the highway that went through a building. Honest to got, they built a building around one of the highway turns [ photo 274 ]. I wanted to drive through that so much that it hurt. Never have I seen something of the like, and it drew my attention like a moth to the flame.

Sadly we never did drive through it, though we did get very close.

I was also introduced to the Spring Stool [ photo 281, 282, 283 ]. You could actually lean like I was in the photos and it supported your weight. Very weird feeling.

There was also a room with some neat seats that effected the projector inside, depending on the pressure of the seats. Anyways, there was a sign outside of the room [ photo 284 ] depicting what was, and was not, acceptable. Now I don’t know what a heart symbol stands for let alone a heart symbol and two people sitting on a couch.

Making out is alright? Don’t do anything on the platform? This stuff basically writes itself.

I also took a couple photos of random funny things that I found [ photos 285-287 ]. The old guard standing along out in the rain struck me as epic in a funny sad way, and then we just have some fantastic packaging.

When we got back to the hotel, we got some more alcohol (terrible, terrible rum, some wine in a can, and some Coronas), and decided to relax and enjoy our final night across the world. Of course things always lead to the immature, and things like [ photo 288 ] are inevitable.

Day Eight

This was a very sad, and a very, very long day. Most of the kids (myself included) would have been quite happy to stay in Japan forever. The catch being that we had people we missed and non-existent visas. Regardless we were piled onto the bus and shipped out to the airport located on the man-made island on the coast of Osaka. While on our travels, I took a couple photos [ photos 289, 290, 296, 297 ] of our travels, and some photos of tiny erasers [ photos 291-295 ] that Yoshi had handed out to everyone. Everyone got a unique eraser, which really shows dedication on both her part, and on part of the eraser manufacturer.

We crossed a 13 kilometer bridge to get to the airport, which was impressive on its own. Now imagine that the bridge is three layers high, and trains run on it as well.

That makes it way, way cooler.

Kansai International Airport

Osaka Airport was an interesting place. Other than having a sweet cross-breeze and feeling very new – construction on it started 22 years ago – you are also treated to ceiling art that actually moves in the breeze [ photo 299 ]. Very neat.

So here’s a funny story: One of our kids lost his passport. Well okay, “Lost” is the wrong term. He knew exactly where it was, but it was not on his person. It was laying on the bed of his hotel room back in the heart of Osaka. Yoshi was on the phone so fast you would have thought it was attached to her head. After some quick work, we had the passport en route to the airport via express taxi.

The gate closed in 40 minutes, and for 40 minutes we waited. Then we waited some more. 55 minutes of waiting, and the passport arrived. 160000 Yenn later (that’s roughly 200 dollars) we were heading towards the gate. We said our goodbyes to Yoshi [ photo 298 ], who was utterly amazing on this trip. I’d recommend her to anyone in a heart beat.

Now in North America, this would be one of those “You’re Fucked” scenarios. What do they do in Japan? They keep the gate open for you. Then they escort you through security. Then they run you, and I do mean run, to the monorail that they are holding for you. Then they have people on corners to direct you to your flight, because everyone in the fucking building knows who you are, what you look like, and where you are going.

And when we got to the gate? The original lady that helped us, who didn’t get on the monorail, is waiting at the gate to say goodbye to us.

She was absolutely amazing, and was the only one of two people to whom I actually bowed. I said thank you and gave the head nod to anyone that helped us on our trip, but this lady went well above the call of duty to make sure we got on that plane.

We had a very brief stop over in Tokyo as we took on more passengers, and then it was off to Detroit, where our souls would die a little.

Detroit International Airport

Fuck you Detroit International Airport. I hate you so very, very much. You may look pretty, and you may have a cute monorail, but no one in their right mind would want to spend 8 hours stuck in you.

That’s what happened to us. You would think that we could have just taken a bus back to Toronto, which we should have been able to. Sadly, due to scheduling retardation, we were forced to wait 8 hours for a connecting flight to Toronto that would only take an hour. We were not impressed

Some of us managed to sleep the time away [ photo 300 ], but those of us who can’t pass out anywhere – me – ended up wandering around the terminal, like lost duckings looking for their mother.

I ended up getting a massage, which felt amazing after being on a 10 hour flight. We also ate, and I killed the rest of my DS’s battery sitting around.

Some kid left their camera sitting around, and when they went back for it, it was missing. We had lost and regained very important things all week, and within the 8 hours we were in Detroit, a camera was stolen. It really makes you think about us on a societal scale, doesn’t it?

In the End

I loved it in Japan. I’d live there if I could. At the very least I’m going back there for a longer stay. I encourage any and everyone to go over there and be amazed at the richness of culture and history that you can find around every turn. My only wish is that we could have visited Hiroshima, which another tour group got to do. They were staying longer though, so it makes sense.

Photos!

And here are all of the photos from my trip. Enjoy!

Such is the life of a student.

First off, I’ve become a Peer Tutor at my school. Not only does it land me some extra cash (always a bonus, given the current financial psudo-crisis I am finding myself in), but it’s additional work experience, and I get to help people. It could come to a shock to some, but I actually do enjoy helping others when they are willing to take it. I happen to be the web design specialist, and I think I’m the busiest tutor of the bunch. Not that the others don’t work, but I’ve helped a good amount of people by now.

Not that I’m complaining about that.

Oh yeah, I landed myself a trip to Japan that happened half way through March. I don’t have my pictures up or even accessible at this point, but when I get them I’ll be sure to dump them on the website and make everyone jealous. Let me just say that Japan is a brilliant place that I would visit again at the drop of a hat; it’s clean, it’s pretty, it’s polite, it’s so short. There are Shinto shrines in their outdoor shopping areas; just in case you need a blessing or two before you drop some Yen. My friend has a series of blog posts about the trip. If you’re curious, have a look.

Ironically it was this trip that got me back into learning Japanese (one of my silly life goals.) I’ve wanted to ever since I was a young kid into anime, and though I don’t watch anime very much anymore, the desire to learn the language remains.

Of course, by leaving for a week, I had a weeks worth of assignments to catch up on, as well as a loss in time for any assignments that had due dates in the future. It’s not a joke when I say that within a day of my return, I was doing assignments like it was going out of style. By the time Wednesday (landed 11:45 on Friday) had rolled around, I had finished 5. by Friday, I had 9 done. I was very burnt out by the time I was caught up, let me tell you.

During my flight, I finished Apollo Justice (review coming this Thursday) and picked up Front Mission for the DS again. I have successfully finished the first half of the game, and I’ve givin at least 30 hours of my life to it. The second half is even harder, apparently. I await the many Game Over screens with glee. It’s not as robust as the Play Station variations, but it’s still as mind-bendingly difficult. It’s not uncommon for battles to last over an hour. Never mind the down time when you are buying equipment and running through the arena to make enough money to upgrade everyone.

Ugh. I’m never going to play it again once I’ve defeated it. It’s a game I can live with never picking up again.

I can’t remember if I mentioned it or not, But I’ve actually also picked up the new Star Ocean. It’s got a pretty quick learning curve, and it’s just as difficult as the previous versions were. Seriously, two hours between save points? This was a good design process? Well at least they droped the ‘MP Death’ from this version. What a terrible idea that was.The graphics are solid, the game-play is too. My only major issues with it are the fact that it wants to be widescreen, and so the menus are slightly cut off on my TV, and the voice acting.

Oh God, the voice acting. It’s terrible. seriously, it’s like they went to an acting school, found the people who were the bottom of the class, and threw them all into a recording studio with 15 minutes to read the script. It’s utterly terrible. Really makes the (many) cut scenes that much more painful.

I’ve also picked up Alien Hominid, Carcassonne, and Aegis Wing for the 360. Here are my brief rundowns of them:

• Carcassonne: I recently fell in love with Carcassonne at a friends house, so that was a required purchase. I’m sure I will come to hate it like Settlers of Catan.
• Aegis Wing: it’s a free download, and was made by the Microsoft Intern Team (3 guys). I’ll let that stand on it’s own. It’s free, at least.
• Alien Hominids: I’m a big fan of Castle Crashers, so I opted to pick up Beheamoths first game while it’s on the cheap – 50% off – and try it out. The first 4 minutes of the game proved to me just how much more pollished Castle Crashers is. I’m already not a fan of Alien Hominids, but I’ll at least give it the ol’ college try.

If anyone wants to friend me on the 360, my tag is “Jack Dutson” and feel free to do so.

Oh yeah, I work at Shoppers Drugmart, quit working at the Revolution Night Club in Kitchener – didn’t agree with the direction management was going – and I’m working on a sweet redesign of my resublogfolio.When I can find time to finish and slice it, It’ll be pretty sweet.

So that’s the last month summed up, here’s hoping I can post with a little more regularity for the coming months!

Corey signing off.

Cause the static singes the speakers like
A thousand Hymns of inspiration.
And the road just winds through the canyon like,
A big black snake heading for salvation and I’m getting closer to the truth
And further from the sky.

Butch Walker – Closer to the Truth and Further From the Sky

Seriously, I was. I got picked on at school for every possible reason: Mamas boy, nerd, totally out of style, ugly, etc. etc. The usual stuff, I know, but it hurt all the same. High school wasn’t any better. I never had a girlfriend. Hell, I barely had friends, and they weren’t exactly the socialites of the century either. Like minds stick together and all that I guess.

Once I got into the real world I drove a crappy car, because I couldn’t afford a nice one with the crappy pay from my crappy job. I barely even got the job I had, and only because the shear mass of my pathetic life weighed down on my bosses conscience so much that it’d have been like kicking a three-legged puppy while it was down. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job and the people I worked with. It was just crummy pay, which resulted in the crummy car.

I did manage to move out on my own, but much like my car, my place wasn’t exactly fantastic. The roof leaked, the tap leaked, the shower leaked… pretty much anything that could leak, did. On top of that, it was above an Indian fast-food joint. This resulted in everything I owned smelling a tad too strongly of every kind of curry and spice known to man, and all at the same time. It had one window, and it was small. Really small. Insanely, stupidly small. I paid too much rent for it, but I was too much of a sucker to say anything.

I hadn’t kissed a girl until I was 24, and I won’t even bother embarrassing myself further by going into the details of my non-existent sex life.

Suffice it to say, I was pathetic in every possible way. I was the definition of ‘last place’.

Then I met Kam.

Kam was a girl. Kam was a girl I met at a coffee shop while waiting in line in a coffee shop to buy a coffee that was far too exotic and far too expensive for me. I had had a rather good day at work, and I felt like treating myself. She was in line behind me, though I only found this out after I had bought my way-to-expensive drink.

As I turned around, our eyes met.

I was in love, simple as that.

As I walked past her, I knew that she was ‘The One.’ I had to talk to her. I had to talk to her and find out her name and what she likes and what she hates and if she had pets and if she liked to read. There were a million other things I wanted to ask her, but at that moment I slipped on a wet tile and went down like a sack of potatoes.

—

When I came to, I was still on the coffee shop floor; my coffee raising the price of the tile that it had spilled on, and many a gawking person hovering over me. Kam actually had the decency to try and help me up. It took a couple tries as I was slipping far too much. She told me to sit still because I was bleeding, and it would probably be best to get a doctor to have a look at me. I’m pretty sure I agreed, but the whole thing is a little hazy. I remember asking her name (Kam), but after that I forget. From what I gather I passed out.
—

When I came around again, I was sitting in a gurney. Kam was sitting there, as worried looking as anything but hadn’t noticed I was awake. I managed to steal a couple moments to appreciate her.

She wasn’t the cutest girl in the world, but she had a charm about her that blew me away. Just looking at her nearly brought me to tears, though that could have been the endorphins wearing off. Time slowed as I took every part of her in: her eyes, her hair, her skin, her mouth, even the way she sat. Everything about her was breath-taking.

Then the doctor came in, and time resumed it’s normal speed. He used some of that faux ‘trauma doctor charm’ and said that he was glad to see me conscious. Not exactly a high bar, but it was good enough for him. He asked Kam what happened as he didn’t trust me to retell the tale. He had a look at my head and said that I was indeed going to need a couple stitches. He left for a moment, and returning with a nurse in tow, he told me to turn around so he could “patch me up.”

When the doctor had finished stitching me up, which took a couple tries because apparently my scalp rejects local anesthetic, he told me that I’m lucky I didn’t have a concussion and that my friend was smart to call paramedics. With that, he disappeared through the doorway to treat some other person with minimal enthusiasm.

Kam asked me if I was okay, and I asked her if she wanted to go get something to eat.

I didn’t expect myself to say it. Asking her that showed way more confidence than I actually had. I still blame the fall to my momentary lapse of Loserdom. She was so blind-sided that she actually agreed! My first date in years, and I got it from a trip to the hospital.

If only I had known it was that easy.

—

We walked to a little diner near the hospital, because neither of us had transportation. I had ridden in the back of the ambulance, and apparently she had as well.

We started to talk, awkwardly of course. I asked her about herself, if she had pets, if she read, and about three percent of all the questions I wanted to ask her. In turn she asked me similar questions, and we ended up having a lot in common. It was at this point that my previous feeling of The One had been confirmed. I had to be with her, and that was that.

Finding a diner, we went inside and got some late breakfast. We finished dinner, and I asked her whether I could see her again in a less hospital-related way. In a shocking turn of events she said yes, and I nearly choked on my much-less-expensive coffee. She thought I was cute in an awkward, nerd-next-door sort of way. I decided to take this as a compliment and asked her for her number. She scrambled through her overly-large purse and dug out a pen and paper. She scribbled her number down, handed it to me, and then somehow managed to flag down a near-by taxi.

This girl was magic.

I walked the 43 blocks home.

—

Our first date is something that was so wonderful, so pure, that it will forever be burned into my memory. We met at a park half-way between our homes. I brought a picnic basket filled with the nicest foods I could afford. Granted that didn’t really add up to much, but as Kam put it, “It’s the thought that counts, silly.” I can believe in that.

We met with it feeling almost like it was the first time all over again. We walked down a wide path surrounded by trees, both of us afraid to start talking. Mothers with strollers would walk past us, giving us knowing looks. Children would run blindly past us oblivious of the awkward air that they too would have to deal with when they grew older. I listened to the world, trying to glean some knowledge from the winds and the trees and the dirt.

She broke the silence by asking me how my day had gone, and told me about hers. I couldn’t trust myself to talk much, so I listened. I didn’t mind being the silent one since It’s something I’m used to. No one bothers to pay attention to me, so I end up being a listener anyways. She was thankful for someone who was such a good listener. Who would have thought that being ignored for a good portion of your life would finally pay off?

When we came to a nice clearing, I set up the picnic and we sat down to eat. The sun was just moving through the trees providing us with a semi-shade, and the wind blew through the leaves softly, creating music that you can only hear in your memories. If the day could have been any more picturesque, there would have been little ragged mice with violins playing to the side, tears in their eyes.

As we ate, I made it my mission to sit beside her. Juvenile I know, but I didn’t have much experience at this. Back to basics and all that. My self-induced mission took roughly 2 hours of eating, drinking and conversation, all the while my minds wheels turning on how to find any excuse to move closer. She either didn’t mind or didn’t notice; I assume she knew what I was doing but let me do it. She was always so understanding; she could read me like a book.

I made her laugh, and she made me smile. I told her jokes that I had heard, and she told me about her life, and the little things that made it special to her. I told her she was special, and so special things naturally came to her. She blushed, and I blushed, and we sat there on the ground silently competing for who closer match the shade of an apple. This would be later be my fondest memory within what is already my fondest memory.

As the sun started to set amongst the trees, and the winds started to cool, we opted to pack it in for the day. If I had had it my way, we would have sat there until the ends of the earth. She made everything brighter and more wondrous. She opened my eyes to all the little things I never appreciated. Her laughter was music, and her smiles fought the sun.

We packed the food and the wrappers; the forks and the plates. I folded the blanket we sat on and stood up. We walked back to the entrance to the pack in silence, listening to nature sing us to the end of the date. The air was no longer awkward, but full of magic and a creeping joy. I would have jumped and clicked my heels if I hadn’t been sure that I would have fallen right onto my face. I opted for allowing my insides to vibrate in happiness.

When we were parting ways, I stumbled over myself asking of she’d had a good time, if she was happy, and if she’d like to go out again. I know I got all three questions out but they may have all been one word. She laughed, put her finger on my lips and shushed me. She brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned towards me. Before I knew what was happening, she was kissing me. This soft, electrifying, burst of joy. It wasn’t a hard kiss, or even a long kiss, but I returned it, and for a moment in time, everything in the world was right.

We separated, the world returning to normal. I watched her walk out of the park and hail another taxi.It was only after I watched the taxi leave that I had no idea if I would see her again.

I still think she did that on purpose to make me call her again.

—

After a couple months of dating, we were officially mad for each other. We had done all the stupid cuddly stuff that hideously cute couples do together: going to the beach, going to carnivals as I spent way too much money wining her a stuffed animal (I’m not a very good throw or aim), watched the night sky, the whole lot.

We were together whenever possible.

The best part about it was that I didn’t feel like such a loser when I was with Kam. She was so cute and smart that by simply being around her, I felt smarter and cuter and not as much of a loser. She helped me find a nicer place, helped me find a better car for the same money, and even convinced me to ask for a raise at my job. She turned my life around, little by little.

In return I gave her the only thing I could offer: myself. If she ever needed help with anything, I was there. If she needed laundry picked up, I was already on my way. If she needed someone to call in sick to work for her, I was on the phone. Whenever she needed to cry about something, I held her like it was the end of the universe.

We were in love like it was the only thing that mattered.

—

Eventually things got more… intimate. After dating for nearly a year, our occasional snogging had been pushed further and further into an adult-oriented scenario. I’m not going to gloat about it or release any sullen details because I don’t need to. Our love was progressing physically as it was mentally.

One night after going for an evening walk and getting ice cream (again, very sickly cute couple) we came back to my place and things got a little more serious than usual. We made it onto the bed, and after some tossing and turning, It happened.

It was wonderful, magical even. All of our emotion and our love was concentrated into that one moment, and for a split second we became one person. I know it sounds corny, but that’s honestly how I’d felt at the time.

As we lay in bed after, we just looked at each other for a while. Things were different now; we’d crossed that line and there was no going back. This wasn’t like a one night stand (which I had never had, thank you), or a fling. This was the real deal. As our eyes stared into each other, I asked her if she’d like to move in with me because I wanted nothing more than to wake up to those eyes every morning.

She started to cry, punched me lovingly on the chest, and called me a ‘sappy idiot.’ I just smiled and said “If you want to call me that, that’s fine. Just say yes.” And you know what? She did. Between her happy sobs, she smiled at me and I knew that I had achieved the one goal I had ever set for myself. I would be with this girl forever. I’ve managed not to screw everything up, and now she’s going to be with me forever.

We slowly fell asleep holding each other, and I cherished that moment more than anything else in my life.

—

Then I woke up. I was laying in a gurney. I looked around and found that I was alone in the room. I had an I.V. stuck in my arm and to my shock, I found myself in hospital clothing.

Suffice it to say, I started to panic.

Just then a nurse came in and gasped when she saw me failing around. She ran out of the room, and moments later burst back into the room with a short, Asian man whom I learned was a doctor.

“My my,” he said “Not too often people pull through after an injury like that.”
“I’m sorry, what? An injury like what?” I had stammered, now freaked out well beyond any normal scale.
“Your head wound. You may not remember but you had a nasty fall and cracked your head open. Luckily someone called 911, and you were rushed here.”

My mouth went dry. “When was this?” I squeaked.

“Oh about… let me check your charts.” He flipped through the clip board hanging from the end of my bed, “about … 37 days ago? So a little over a month?”

A month. I had been unconscious for a month. I had been laying in that bed, in a coma, for just over a month. Everything I had thought was real wasn’t. I didn’t have a nicer place, a nicer car, or a raise at my job. I hadn’t done sickly cute couple things. I never won any stuffed animals. I had never been to the diner.

I cried then. I cried like I had never cried before nor have i cried like that since. I shook the gurney with my sobs, my insides crashing about my chest. My nose ran and I gasped for air. I cried as my world ended.

I never met Kam.

I never did meet her. I went to that same coffee shop every day for months, but never saw her again.

I could deal with having a crappy place, a crappy car, and a crappy job. I could deal with being a loser with no hand-eye co-ordination. How could I deal without Kam? I loved her.

I still love her.

And I can still feel her when I fall asleep.

She grabs him by the wrist, and ungraciously wrenches him from his contemplation. Her nails are digging into his wrist now and she doesn’t care. Let him feel the pain, maybe then they would be on the same page.

She’s just as confused as him, though. She got so upset so quickly that she forgot what she could have been so enraged about. Tears glisten in her eyes like the gleam of sunlight refracted from a stiletto, beautiful yet undeniably dangerous. She can’t back down now. If she did, she would be wrong. She would be showing weakness. She would be vulnerable, exposed for him to see the real her. She wasn’t ready to do that; not for him. Not for any man. She had done that before, and the ending had resulted in her heart being ripped into gruesome confetti, thrown about in a parade of her own sadness. No, he didn’t need to see her like that. He wouldn’t see the inner-most her. He didn’t deserve that from her. She had to keep up this embarrassing tirade, losing face with all these strangers that didn’t even know her, doubtfully even cared. She had to keep going, she just ha–

He removes her taloned, manicured nails from his wrist. He’s wincing against the pain he feels inside. The gashes on his wrist are nothing compared to the hurt his heart is now assailed with. He’s been through this before with her. He would fold, he always did so to save himself the trouble of dealing with the real problem and her issues. He always assumed she would open up to him in time. How much time does she really need though? She’s always so defensive and always seems to have a penchant for rivaling the tectonic plates for the damage she could, and invariably would, cause. This wasn’t the first time this happened, but this would be the last. His heart felt like an old rug: worn down, stained with one to many accidents, and showing wear from too many verbal beatings. He can do better then this, and he knows it.

She’s sobbing now. She always did so when he started to show spine, to show promise of being an actual man. She wasn’t ready for that yet, and she knew that the tears would give him pause. Stop him in his tracks better then any physical chains could do, they always had. The tears run down her blotchy cheeks, forging yet another trail of deceit down the fabric of their relationship. She needed him. She knew it. She’d never tell him that though, and so the tears flow slowly, in a sickly majestic rivulet.

He’s looking away now. He never could face her tears, it made him feel terrible whenever he even thought of it. This time was different, it had to be. Enough was enough. This was it, and he knew it. This time it will end differently. This time he would tell her what he felt, how he felt. He glances at her and sees the tears. He wavers for a moment. It feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice with no visible bottom. Then it happens. It starts from his heart, bursting forward like a dam in a storm that cannot be held back by mere bricks and mortar. It climbs up his throat and he can’t stop it, wouldn’t stop it if he could. This needed to happen, for both of them. It explodes from his mouth in a quiet hurricane of words and feelings. Both intertwined with such reckless abandon that neither can be distinguished from the other. He screams at her without screaming, he assaults her with his indignities without volume. In reality, his voice is barely above a cracked, sobbing whisper, but his ears can barely take the tumultuous thunder that is his agony. His words a compilation of his malformed feelings for her.

She’s stunned. This was wrong, so very wrong. He was supposed to break down and apologize, he was supposed to beg for forgiveness, and he was supposed to fold like a cheap hand in poker. This was wrong. Instead of her coming out the victor of this senseless battle, she is now beset by a wall of truths. She can’t tune out what he’s saying; her body has betrayed her. Her ears force her to listen to all that she has wrought and it twists her insides in a manner more becoming of a neglected blender. She’s losing, and there is nothing she can do this time. Her tears glisten to a man blind to her sorrows. Her voice falls on the ears of a man deafened from one too many audible assaults. She’s lost.

He turns from her, having said his peace. There is nothing left in this carcass of a relationship. Let the carrion feeders make short work of what was left of that derogated past. He was done with this atrocious mess. He was done with the agony. He was done with her.

She wouldn’t let it end like this. How dare he walk away from her, leaving her like this? She won’t allow it! She reaches out and grabs his arm, turns him around with a strength borne of her scorn. She would set him straight. She would make him feel her pain.

He glares at her. She disgusts him now, and he won’t put up with this anymore. He didn’t deserve it, and wouldn’t take yet another serving of a dinner long gone rancid.

She slaps him with the back of her hand, putting all her frustration behind it, all her malice behind it. Everything she had, she put into that one connection. He stumbles, being so unprepared for the blow. He catches himself and stands tall. She goes to slap him again, but he’s faster. He doesn’t care what kind of scene he’s in now, nor does he care about the bystanders. He winds up and returns the unwelcome gift to her just as righteously.

She hits the floor, stunned. He hit her, and she couldn’t bring her mind to comprehend it. He was so kind and sensitive. He was everything she wanted and needed, and yet she had brought him to that.

He’s shaking. The urge to vomit valiantly tries to overwhelm him, but he manages to maintain a shambling semblance of composure. He turns around and walks out her life. Out of the life he knew. He holds his cheek and smiles. That was that for him. The final curtain has drawn for this tragedy, and his part in the play was over. He could move on and he would move on; he deserved that. She deserved that

She’s shaking. He was gone, and she was left with nothing. The bystanders watch her as she sobs to no one and nothing. She weeps for herself. The final curtain has drawn for this tragedy, and her part too was over. She could move on but wouldn’t. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of moving on. He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve that.

Then the bystanders lose interest and move on. They didn’t deserve that.

All that aside, I think I’m going to enjoy my two years at Mohawk. They’ve already done a far better job making me like them than Conestoga ever did. We’ll see how I feel y the end of the two years, but if they keep this up I’ll be a happy camper.

To segue into something totally unrelated I’m rocking the Avenue Q soundtrack pretty hard right now. If people have a chance to see this in theaters, please for the love of all that is sacred and pure, do so. It’s so god-damned fantastic that words fail to articulate how amazing the show is. Full of rough humor, puppets, and topics that land impressively close to home, it’s worth every penny. Listen to it.

SUBJECT CHANGE.

I’ve been doing some small changes around the website, if anyone has noticed. One change I’ve made is that my suggested reading is now being powered by Goodreads. I’ve made a shelf for my favorites on Goodreads and by parsing the RSS feed (thank you WordPress) I’ve got my newest 10 constantly updating from the list. Saves me repeating effort, and ups my 2.0 web ePenis a notch.

I’ve also made the colour switcher a bit more obvious. The for squares in the top left corner of the layout actually do more than just look damned pretty. They actually change the colour scheme of the website. Apparently I’m the only person that actually knew this. I was sort of happy to have it be an easter egg for the site, but after some consideration I’ve opted to make it more obvious so someone other than me can enjoy it as well.

Feel free to click them at random. They are cookie-enabled so if you’re rocking cookies in your browser(s) my site will remember the preference and keep your color preference. It’s somewhat pointless, but there it is.

I’ve also got my resumé page up and running if anyone wants to take a look at that. Much like my current layout, it is a completely grid-designed, and I went for maximum contrast so there’s very little in terms of colours.

To end off this utterly random post, I’ll mention that today I bought a Wacom Bamboo. It’s pretty and black and I’m a fan of having a mouse and a pen to choose from. Having said that, I feel like such a stereotype by buying it and being in a Graphic Design program. It’s just so typical; all i need now is some black-rimmed glasses and a wicked designer beard.

It took me way too long to write this. I’m getting rather distracted tonight. Honestly, this took me hours. There’s no excuse for that. Well not a valid one.

Corey signing out.

“Take her home!
She’s wasted!
YAY!”

The Bad Idea Bears – Avenue Q

A shame really. Before the kings recent binge in the extinguishing of life, our city was the most pristine in the land. Truly a sight that never failed to rob one of their breath. Even those of us who had lived here all our lives could be moved to tears from the beauty of it. Those same people are still moved to tears today, but not from the weep of joy. It is the weep of a man who must watch as his lover slowly dies, while he can do nothing to help her or ease her pain. Tears of frustration, of helplessness, of such utter grief that one would think that the very gods had come down and cursed them personally. Maybe the gods have done just that to our city. Are we doomed to watch all that which we held dear slowly decay under the weight and stench of blood and gore? Did we bring this upon ourselves?

—

Just as most of us had assumed, the pick-pocket is to be sentenced to yet another public execution in the square. The reason of course, is treason. I find myself wondering recently if he and all the other rebels are really the traitors, or if it is we who still follow the king that are the villain in it all. We arrest the innocent; we kill them under the kings will, but is that will sound? Have any of them done what the King says they have?

Again he holds himself with that quiet grace that we all find so unsettling, but there is something different. His eyes no longer hold within them the same spark that was contained with such reckless abandon a short while ago. His eyes are cold now, hard. He holds his head high still, and refuses to look away to those who dare to stare him down. More then one guard has had to glance away for the guilt they feel building within their very being. The last weapon of a man condemned. Does he feel some sort of twisted sense of pleasure, of entertainment as everyone around him squirms?

It’s his calm that throws us all so harshly. This is what sets him apart from the others we’ve ‘contained’. They all either weep like a new born child who knows not their parents, or rave like a man who has glimpse the mind of a god, who spout out incoherent drivel at the best of times. Some even rip at the bars, the walls, even themselves in a blind rage at the thought of their life being cut so violently short.

Not him. He sits there humming a tune, or trying to converse with the guards as if nothing were the matter and that his being held here was but a mere accident that would be corrected within the hour. Still though, it’s his eyes. It’s all a pantomime I know, for as I watch him I see the cold sweat beading along his hairline. I see the tremor in his hand that he cannot seem to banish. I hear the crack in his voice he covers up with a cough. I notice how he constantly paces back and forth, always moving. So much so that I would think the man could be a river, should he ever become a part of the Earth.

—

The pick-pockets day has come. He has but hours left to live, and I chafe. I chafe for the fact that I feel he was doing nothing but trying to help the city he has come to love, much like the rest of us; much like I have. When I joined the King’s ranks, I did so with the romantic notion of protecting the city I had lived in all my life; the city I had come to love as dearly as any parent; the place that I called home. What happened to that I wonder? Have I been so drawn into the motions of the job that I have forgotten the reason I had joined to begin with? Have I, in my own small way, become no better then the raving King I so respected long ago?

Maybe insanity is contagious, and I am as sick as all the others.

I pull out the keys to the pick-pockets’ cell. For the first time, I take a look at that which have been the tool of so many peoples’ destruction. Cold, hard, every nick and crack is filled with grime, dirt; there are even spots of dried blood on some of them, the keys where the more… spirited… individuals were kept. They repulse me now, but they serve their purpose silently, without complaint.

I insert the key into the now rusting lock of his cell. The lock screams its outrage at its use, so seemingly unwilling to be a part of the horrors that it has been in the past. The cell door swings open, and there he is, standing. He doesn’t dive for the door, he doesn’t scream his outrage, nor does he weep like all the others. He stands there, so strong despite the weight of all that he knows is about to happen.

“Come along now, it’s time for you to go.” I state as I stand aside to let him escape from his cell, where I am sure he could barely breathe with all the dark thoughts that pollute the room. As we walk down the hall, I grab his meager possessions, and bring them along. “I’ll at least let you die in the same state in which you lived.” I mutter as we walk past the last check point.

He gives me a look that could break even the stoniest of hearts.

“Thank you. That is more then I would expect from his graciousness, the King.” Even as he says this, he cannot completely hide the contempt in his voice, nor the sneer that crosses his face. I don’t blame him; he has every right to curse the king. Most of us do. This whole city has that right.

We approach the door to the courtyard, and I see that for a brief instant, a mere iota of time, he falters. That spark in his eyes returns in a flash, and dissipates just as quickly. For that brief moment, he cannot believe what is happening, he doubts everything as it is happening. He wonders if it’s worth his very life, and in that same instant, he knows his answer.

He adjusts his shirt, smooths his hair, and prepares himself to die for what he believes in.

I open the door, and the cool demeanor he had himself so well entrenched in slips away. We’re in the entrance to an alley. Human refuse and byproduct fills the air with a nigh-ungodly sent. The heat of the day does little help other then to keep the air heavy, and the smell low. Those in the spires will never notice, to which their blissful ignorance only perpetuates.

“What is this?” He blurts out, his mouth agape. He looks around in wide-eyed disbelief, like that of a child entering a candy shoppe for the first time.

“My own redemption,” I say as I pull out the keys, the very embodiment of everything I had come to despise. “Take the keys, and go. Do what I… What all of us are too terrified to do. Fight for our city. Free it from the death march it seems so content to continue on with. I will not stand by as my home crumbles and turns in upon itself.”

That hard look has returned to his face, and his eyes betray no emotion. All I can see within them is a reflection of myself. That same look graces my own face.
We can hear yelling from down the hallway, and the scuffling of boots as those who have caught onto my plan race to stop that which is already too late.

“You’ll die, you know this right?”

“I made my choice. Take the keys and go.” I drop the keys into his hand, and he flees the scene with a speed born of fear, of exhilaration, of a man living on the grace of the gods.

“Let my choice be not in vain.”

The guards show up and run me down without a second thought, possibly without even a first. It may be all instinct at this point. They disarm me, and force me at sword-point to the kings’ court. The King screams his rages at me, his curses at me, all his hatred and malice at me. Were I any other man in that room, I would have had to turn my head from the shear detestation that emanated from the man in palatable waves. All his hate fell upon deaf ears though, and I return to him the stare I learnt so well from the pick-pocket. He accuses me in being in league with the rebels, and I have been for months, feeding them information. A complete and unnecessary action on his part as no one believed an acidic word that dripped from his frothing lips, and no one would challenge him anyways. Who would defend a man condemned?

Other then myself.

—

It seems my last day has come. I sit in the very cell that he was contained in. I found it to be fitting that we trade places so readily. None of the guards can look at me now, and those that do stare at me as if I am already dead. Many were one time friends, some from childhood even, but none will look at me. None will fight for me. I’m just another criminal to them now. Already I can hear the rumors in the air like a perfume of a love long past; bittersweet. It has grown to be a harrowing escape wherein the pick-pocket and myself fought our way through nine or ten guards, and ending with the pick-pocket abandoning me when I was caught. I won’t correct them, I’d rather the story grow into a legend to shake what they believe in.

The lock screams once more in bitter outrage at the system it finds itself in. The door swings open, and I am dragged to my feet. I shake off their grips and hold my head high, strong. I want nothing less then to be treated like the man that I am; a man of purpose, a man of dignity; a man walking towards his own self-imposed vindication. Suddenly I know how he felt. The feeling is like no other. A total calm, a resolve in what you are doing.

I hold myself with quiet dignity as they open the doors to the courtyard. So many times I’ve gone through these motions and it was all so routine, yet this is the first time I could feel everything. I could smell the stale sweat and blood in the air. I could hear the screams or hate and sorrow of those who came to watch. I can feel the wind as is teases through my hair, giving me one last moment of solace and care-free pleasure in my ever-shortening life.

I stand before the King now; two men: one holding all the power, and the other seemingly none. He reads off the charges laid against me and grants me leave to speak my last words, and I stare into his eyes with an intensity I didn’t know I possessed.

I stare into him for what seems like an eternity, though in actuality it could have been no more then a second or two. In that moment, we clashed. Our stares fought like two souls on a battle field who have everything to lose. I can have the satisfaction of knowing that that shook him. Never had he been forced to do that. Never had he been forced to look at the people he condemned in the eyes. Never had he been forced to see the evil he had become.

He blinked first, and we both knew it.

I turn to the people, who have gone quiet as they wait for me to scream my hatred, scream my injustice to them, at them, at the very world. I hold no malice though, no hate. I have no reason to scream, to rant and rave like a man possessed.

“I chose this path, and I stand firm upon its trail. I love this city as much as I could ever love anything, and I did what I felt was right for the good of the city. I would not change my actions were I given the chance to do so. I die a man of resolve, a man of dignity. A man no more, and no less then that of you and your protectors.” My voice rings out in the square. The world has gone silent. No creature stirs, no child wails, the wind too, has gone still. My voice echo’s like a penny dropped into a well; haunting, distorted, as it rebounds off of every surface, every facet of the city I so cared for.

Emerging from what seemed an eternity of agonizing silence, the world resumes from where it had stopped, and I am placed on the block that is already slick with the blood of others. How much of this blood did I assist in spilling?

I hear the executioner pace towards me. I turn my head to face him. He, like all the others, falters under my gaze. He doesn’t agree with this anymore then I do, yet he will do his job. I can respect that, and I should expect no less. I scan the crowd for nothing more then for something to do. There he is; the pick-pocket. He stands in the front row, and stares at me. No smile graces his lips, no cries of anguish escape his lips, yet I can feel his gratitude, hear it even as clear as if he here inches from me, talking. No one recognizes him, though he stands mere feet from guards. To them, he is just another street urchin.

I turn my head and glance one last time at the King. Gone is my respect for him, gone is the fear that he used to inspire in me. All that I feel for him, for everyone, is a deep sadness and a pity for what they have, do, and will have to endure. A smile breaks the calm of my face, and I see it shake him to the core. I see him notice for the first time that he has no power over me, that even as I die, I die a man devoid of his influence.

I hear the grunt of the executioner and the scrape of the axe across the pave stones. I see the flash of light at he raises it. I feel the blade tickle the hairs on the nape of my neck. So gentle, like the kiss of a lover gone a lifetime, and freshly returned, as if we had never parted. Just as quickly as it came, it left and I am left with a sense of complete serenity, all the doubt gone from my mind, all the guesswork of life has fled. The only thought left was ‘I’m about to die’ and my acceptance therein. My expression remains placid even as the axe that once had the touch of a lover rips through my neck with military-esque precision.

Actually, I did have one more thought. For in that last, fateful moment, the spark I remember so clearly from his face, that hint of doubt, flared in my eyes.

Would I die in vain?

As I’ve voiced my opinion over and over (and over), applied my own twist to things, and finally catching the ear of the designer at my current job, I’ve finally got my foot in the door for doing some graphic design work. Together, the designer and I were really going to blow away the old designs with a fresh look, new design rules to apply, and a good application of experience.

I was going to finally get my chance to do what I’ve been asking to do for almost two years! So why did I give it up?

The Paper

First and foremost, unless you’re a prodigy of design, the messiah of the layout, and the master of typography, people aren’t going to pay much attention to your opinion unless you’ve got some documentation backing you. It’s the sad truth, and it’s one of the driving forces behind my decision. You can be as good as you possibly can, but without that little “G.D” title under your list of can-dos, you have to work that much harder just to prove that your the designer for the job.

Once I complete my stint at Mohawk College, I’ll probably upgrade via a distance course so that I can work in the field and gain experience while upgrading my educational status. That part’s going to suck socially, economically, physically, and mentally but I’ll manage. I just remind myself that perpetual learning is the most important thing in life you can do for yourself and your community.

The Experience

I want to learn about design in a structured environment. I know I’ve been reading like a fiend since I started on this road, but reading books only gets you so far without proper application of knowledge. I’m hoping and somewhat expecting to get this foundation from school. I don’t want to be just another designer; I want to be a bloody-good designer. I want people to look at my work and say something akin to “Fuck. Yes.”

I know I won’t be able to do that without a strong foundation and understanding of the rules of design. School can help me with this.

The Direction

My work’s been rewarding. Sure I’ve worked 40 hour-per-day shifts, been sat behind the eight ball more times than I’m willing to count, and I’m sure I’ve lost hair from the whole ordeal. I’ve also been taught some rather good habits about how to work under pressure, know just what my abilities are and how to push them, and I know just how much I enjoy my work.

Having said that, being a code-jockey for the rest of my life is not what I have planned. I enjoy coding, and I like it being a part of what I do. I do not want it to be the main focus of my work because over the last two years I’ve come to the conclusion that I like design work more. It appeals to me, and I appeal to it. I would be short-changing myself if I waited too long before getting my formal education in the field.

As it turns out, my place of employment have actually offered me a part time job where I set my hours weekly. If I can’t work, it’s no big deal. They’re also willing to pay me my current rate of pay in an hourly format. That’s.. roughly 30 dollars an hour in a part time job. I admit that it’s tempting, and I’ve got to give that some thought.

The Drive

I want to do this. I want to become a designer and there’s nothing anyone can really say to dissuade me. I know becoming a designer will require a pay cut, at least at the beginning. I know that it’s a flooded field at the moment since everyone and their mother thinks that they can design. I know that it’ll be hard for me to stand out, but I will.

I will do this.

I will complete my schooling.

I will distinguish myself.

I will be a designer.

I will be proud of my work.

Being the smart man that I am, I thought “Hell, I’ll just roll back a version to when it worked! It’s probably some little bug with WordPress, no big deal.” I totally forgot my FTP information, so there was 40 minutes of my life I can’t bet back.

In the end I rolled everything back and now the site worked again, but I was still getting an error that I couldn’t figure out. I tried re-installing the latest version, and I was still getting an error which totally confused me.

Now I’m getting angry. Something had changed between a couple days ago and now. Could I remember? Of course not. If I could remember what I had really done, I wouldn’t of had a problem. As a result I ended up searing a bunch and scrambling to get my site working as it should again. I tried every combination I could think of that involved installing and uninstalling everything. In this process I told myself, “make sure you backup that theme you worked so hard on!”

I didn’t of course, but we’ll get to that.

Eventually I had the bright idea of “Why not just copy my development version over to of the live version? I mean it works fine there!” I forgot that when you’re going to do a blind copy, it’s generally good practice to back up any and all files you may have changed from one server to the other. This includes the files that make up my new theme. The result? I rolled back 2 days worth of changes to the websites theme and the problem was still there.

Now I’m swearing up and down the walls. I’m saying things that I should probably seek forgiveness for having said. I’m angry because now not only have i rolled back my theme and lost so much work, but Isomehow still have this messed up error!

Now it’s time for me to bust out my debugging skills.

• I removed the entire installation including all theme files, plugins, and extras.
  Result: Site is dead. Good start.
• I reinstall WordPress and get it pointing to the old database (which was a fun time in and of itself, as i forgot my database server location)
  Result: site is up, back to the old blue but up.
• I re-install my theme and apply it
  Result: Site is borked because I need certain things in my theme to work. Old error isn’t appearing
• Copy in my plugins
  Result: no change
• Activate “Hello Dolly” plugin (I like it, shut up)
  Result: Crazy error shows up. I’m now confused.
• Deactivate Hello Dolly, and activate Twitter.
  Result: Everything’s great. Still confused.
• Activate Hello Dolly again.
  Result: The shit’s fucked up again.

Somehow throughout all of my backups and my restores, the Hello Dolly plugin got rather messed up. I cannot and refuse to explain or understand why. In the end I lost two days of work, and a day of progress because of a useless plugin. What have I learned from this?

Back your shit up before you start, and for the love of all that is sacred and pure, think about what you’re doing before you do it.

I eventually got everything running again (as you can see) but believe me when I say I could have done without the self-loathing, swearing, and stress.