Over on my other blog I was asked what my most controversial opinion is. Seeing how I can’t transfer it over to here and because I don’t want to mix the two blogs, I’ll answer it here and hope the person who asked sees it.
The most controversial opinion I hold, I think, would be population control.
I believe we should try and limit how many kids people are pumping out because we’re already unable to sustain the amount of people we have. So yes, go on about what a monster I am but we have people dying in third world countries because there’s no food while we’re pumping out kids like we’re going extinct. Case in point, that moronic show on TLC about those crazy ass Christians who just pump out kids. Absolutely disgusting.
And don’t go trying to tie me in with genocide or eugenics or things of that nature because those ideas are not one in the same with what I believe.
I guess if that’s not controversial I am a pretty big proponent of the redistribution of wealth so, you know, there’s that.
I hate the city. I hate everything about it. I hate that I have to take the subway, at a round trip cost of six dollars, to get to the nearest green-space. I hate that even though this is the largest city in Canada the only fun to be had costs money. I hate that I have yet to get past the interview stage even though I have a vast amount of experience. I hate the traffic, the crowding, the noise, the lack of wildlife and I hate the concrete. Everywhere you look there’s concrete.
But most of all I hate that I’m alone. I mean it when I say I literally have no friends in this city. I always looked forward to coming to the “big city” and getting away from my boring farming town. I looked forward to the solitude I’d be gaining with which I could spend as much time as I wanted reading and writing. I looked forward to getting away from the pesky unannounced visits from friends. Instead I find myself on Facebook, looking through photo albums of my friends and I, completely and devastatingly missing them (and their stupid unannounced visits).
The choice of packing up and going home may seem to be easy but it isn’t that clear cut. I live with a girlfriend. I can’t simply leave her here to pay for the rent, unassisted and alone. And as aggravating as it is to never get past the interview stage here in Toronto I’d be lucky to even get an interview back in my hometown, not to mention the lack of mass transportation requires a car, something I do not own or have the ability of owning.
And so I’m stuck in the city perpetually alone, longing for what I had and learning the lesson that you must be careful what you wish for the hard way.
I love when an anti-corporation type, who’s talking about how much they hate evil corporations like Wal-Mart, sparks up a cigarette they bought from a corporation whose only purpose is to make billions of dollars from selling a product that kills people.
It had been a custom of mine to donate money to the local food-bank (that is, a place where people who can not afford food can go in order to get food so that they do not starve to death) every time I grocery shopped. It was always done so without telling anyone, minus the cashier, as I feel that anonymous charity is the greatest form of charity. I say it had been a custom of mine because I’ve recently stopped.
A few months ago my girlfriend’s roommate and best friend decided to spend the rest of her government cheque not on groceries but on alcohol instead because she wanted to have a “good time.” If you thought that her spending taxpayer dollars on alcohol is as bad as you can get you might not want to read on. When she inevitably ran out of groceries to eat, as everyone does, she took a trip to the local food bank to do her grocery shopping. The food bank. The place where poor people go so they don’t starve to death. The place that constantly pleads with the public for more donations because they already don’t have enough food to supply the people that need it. She decided to take food from this place which, literally, took food out of the mouths of people that actually need the food bank. All because she wanted the sweet, sweet, taste of alcohol. All because she doesn’t care about anyone but herself.
I still haven’t gotten over my anger from that event. That anger, the anger that has sat in the bottom of my heart, has been multiplied more than I can put numbers to.
A hippie who I shall call Krystal often comes to the apartment to hang out. She’s the type to put her feet on the kitchen table because she feels like it. The type to go into the fridge and eat whatever she likes because she feels that humans shouldn’t keep such an essential item to themselves. The type to not shower, literally ever, because she feels it’s unnatural and enjoys the smell of her filthy body despite offending the noses of everyone in the room she occupies. She takes the aforementioned girl who we’ll call Ellen to an arts centre which gives out free meals. The reason this centre gives out free meals is because it’s an arts centre for homeless youth. You’ve read correctly. They go and hang out at a centre for homeless youth and eat the food meant for people who can’t afford to buy a meal. Krystal and Ellen live in apartments and, if they weren’t so God damned greedy, would have ample money for groceries (money which is provided by the taxpayer, mind you.)
Today my anger has turned into crushing depression because, I know, this sort of thing happens all the time. There will always be people so greedy and interested in their own gratification that they’ll steal food from the mouths of those who can’t afford it. There will always be people stealing money from a government programme that was set up to help people in their darkest hours. There will always be people who will use that money for their own selfish gratification with no thought as to whom they are harming in the process. There will always be people who are dumb enough to believe that showering is a form of blind conformation.
And so I have given up.
I have given up caring about trying to make the world a better place for the downtrodden. I have given up giving money to charity. I have given up getting angry at the people that abuse charities and social programmes. For it doesn’t matter how many hours I put in at a soup kitchen or how many dollars I sign over to a food bank or how many people I snap at for being selfish assholes because there will always be those selfish assholes destroying any good anyone tries to do.
And so I have given up.
Congratulations, selfishness, you’ve managed to destroy yet another good person, managed to turn someone else into a hollow shell.
So it goes.
So I finally warmed up to my girlfriend’s hippie friend/roommate.
That was all lost, however, when I spent a week visiting and people kept coming and going from the apartment (it is VERY hard to watch the series finale of Lost when people keep knocking on the door, coming in and us all having to go through the “hello, how are you”s). I learned that -gasp!- hippie is a drug dealer! Only pot, but still.
I hope to hell the police don’t bust down the door and I get arrested or so help me God I will absolutely snap. Also, my girlfriend doesn’t mind because “it won’t be a problem as long as her bills and share of the rent are paid on time.”
Also, her (hippie) hippie friends are always coming over and hanging out in the living room. Have you ever tried to read or play Mario with 7 hippies getting high and talking about astrology and the establishment? Fuck. Not to mention I’m about as far right wing as you can get (please note that I mean right wing in the traditional sense, not the anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, anti-equal rights sense). They even started telling me what’s wrong with socialism when they saw me reading one of my “propaganda” books. It is very hard to have to listen to their bullshit with out snapping and screaming at them.
If I stop posting on my blogs then know that I’m in jail…
I met my girlfriend’s hippie roommate for the first time.
I dislike!
She wakes up and the first thing I heard her do is spark up a bong. Right out of bed. Then she got breakfast and hit another one. After showering and getting dressed she does more. She then rolled about 6 joints, put them in her purse and went out. How can someone live like this?
Not to mention she is insanely good at peer pressure and my girlfriend is a pushover. Fuck. I’m all for having a good time but do we really need to pump our bodies full of intoxicants all day? Or get drunk on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday? And then convince other people to do it too? She then had the audacity to get mad at me when I told my girlfriend that she should probably stop drinking (it was a Tuesday and she couldn’t maintain solid eye contact). I went to bed because hippie was about to get more dRiNkz and I didn’t want to be around for the shit show that was about to follow. I was then subject of an hour long discussion about what my upbringing must have been because I was such a “square” and I needed to “chill out” and “go green.” My girlfriend was oddly silent on the matter.
I fucking hate hippies, man.
I have a girlfriend. I’ve had a girlfriend for about three months and things have gotten quite serious. It’s gotten so serious that we have said the ‘L’ word to each other and neither of us felt it was odd to say it.
Things have been going quite well, that is, things were going quite well until she, along with her roommates and now friends of mine, moved into the city.
Back where she used to live she used to smoke pot on occasion. This didn’t bother me, really, as it never negatively effected me. But she’s been doing it more since she’s moved into the city as there are more places to get it. A friend of her’s that is moving in soon is nicknamed the “princess of pot” because she does it all fucking day. I have issue with this because if I were to get drunk all day people would send me away to AA but apparently it’s just fine if someone gets high all day.
Anyways.
I was cooking my girlfriend a steak dinner and was very excited to have her eat it as I had not cooked her something of that calibre yet. When I went into the living room to ask what she wanted to drink with dinner she was ‘hitting a bong load.’ This greatly upset me. We were supposed to go out for a dinner, the two of us, because we had yet to have an actual date but it began thunder-storming so I opted to cook. But then she got high and then wanted to eat in the living room because some French language kid’s show was on. I would have laughed at this perfect set up for a comedy bit if I weren’t in the middle of it.
The next day we planned to go for a long walk and made a list of shoppes we wanted to go to. Guess what? She got high and didn’t want to go because she was ‘too lazy, man.’ Full disclosure, it was noon on a Wednesday.
Now she’s attending the annual ‘weed march’ in downtown Toronto on April 20th. I was already planning on attending the counter protest but she informed me that I’m not allowed to attend. She says that her friends will not welcome me in their apartment if I attend the counter protest and it will hurt her for me to do so. This caused a full-blown argument that had her accusing me of trying to control her, change who she is and the like. It had me accusing her of being childish, irresponsible and ridiculous. She says if I can’t accept that she’s going to smoke pot outside of a social setting (ie. in the middle of the day, before dinner, etc.) than I have to choose between her and how I feel about pot.
Now not only am I stark raving mad at the ridiculousness of the law abiding one having to choose law abiding and a girlfriend but I’m also confused. I’m confused because I care madly for this girl and like her a great deal and I don’t know what to do. I’m torn between my beliefs and my feelings and neither is willing to budge.
Tumblrverse, I need some fucking advice.
For the first time in my 23 years I have a girlfriend and she’s coming over for dinner to meet the family. I should probably be nervous or something but I’m more concerned over whether or not Corey Haim’s family is going to be able to afford his funeral.
Not really.
But seriously, folks, I’m slow witted so I probably won’t get nervous until after the dinner.
Now, in an argument about gay marriage, here is the jist of what I’ll usually hear from uneducated liberal nutjobs:
…Wow! Where to start?
Gays have been getting married for many years. It was 13 years ago I went to a wedding with my parents for one of their gay friends. The Unitarian Church…
Yeah! Canada allowed gay marriage, recognised by the government, way back in 2003 and things have gone to shit here!
Wait… no it hasn’t.
They don’t teach anything about homosexuality in public schools outside health class where they give a run down of safe sex so people don’t get preggo or diseased.
Yup. That’s about it.
You’re an idiot.
Ahem.
Hi Tom.
I didn’t know you would be able to see this blog as well. Boy do I have egg on my face!
Anyways…
The reason I came in here to-day is to tell y’all to check out Willie Nelson’s version of Amazing Grace. I think it’s the most fitting version of the song I’ve heard yet as his raspy voice adds to the message of redemption to the song. You can really sense the pain in his voice (like you could with Jonny Cash and his redemption songs) which makes his version more chilling.
Anyway, here’s the link: Amazing Grace - Willie Nelson
I’ll pop back in when something remotely interesting/controversial/funny happens in my life!
