One Final Dialogue

I feel the best way to know a person is by reading their words...because from their words you gain just a glimpse of the inner-thought. I wish I could have shared a final dialogue with Whitney...today would have been her 21st birthday. We had collaborated on a valedictorian speech together once...it's one of those important memories I'll always have. We had a somewhat challenging time writing a flowing dialogue together...mainly due to both our stubbornness...and our commitment to presenting an idea we each felt passionately about. There are certain things that I've only recently began to think about. I never really knew that she wrote poetry...there are a lot of things I wish I had known about her. About a week ago, I had the chance to speak with a friend regarding my loss (she's a very good friend, and I can never repay her for her kindness through this...I'm truly in debt to her...which is something she would hate to hear), and from our discussion I found a bit of closure...a bit of peace. I've realized that I really needed one last word with Whitney...a final discourse. And so...today I read some of Whitney's words...a poem she wrote...and I wrote some words of my own, and then interlaced them with hers. I wish I knew her words now...I wish we could work on one final dialogue.

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Whitney
Sometimes,
When the world becomes more than
I can bear,

Brady
Always...
It's a burden unbearable...
a world of inflection.

I think of you
And remember when I loved you.
I find a quiet place in the center
of my soul,

I seek distraction...
And I lose that feeling,
I am swarmed by the rant and banter of noise
at my very core.

Close my eyes,
And breathe your name.
I breathe in the stillness the
innumerable expressions of our love,
Smoothing out the surrounding air.

I lie awake...
I choke on the sounds of the letters that make the words...that make the name...that made you.
Gasping for a moment void of motion...
for the finite memories of our time,
Dragged through this earth surrounding.

The beacon of light that I had for you
overcomes me in the depth of my soul
And I am uplifted to a point of
momentary grace,

My blinding blackness of grief for you
overwhelms me at this core,
as I am trudging into a lower lasting slavery.

Steady as the earth
And strong as the ocean is deep.
I get lost in the feeling of your presence,
Silently enjoying the warmth I get from your light.

Now a shaky world...
As weakened as a mild current.
I find myself sitting in the haze of what was,
Speaking my sorrow...my thoughts...now writing on your absence.

When my earth crumbles away from me,
I rise to the heights of the tallest
mountain peaks,
Overlooking the vast landscape of my life;
From the distant memories to the
Shatterings of my world.
I trace the line of my life that envelopes your presence,
As it paints an immaculate picture
in the earth.

When this world was made real to me...
I was lowered into this lowly depth,
Unable to see my foot before a step to take.
With eyes pierced by that last sight and blinded by this memory,
I walk this route familiar to us...
Forgotten by you...now living in me,
On a path that runs in every known way...
On a road that now will only be known
as walked by only one.

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This is a healing thing for me..and has granted me some sorely sought perspective. My hope is that I can cease the mulling and mourning...and begin living my life in memoriam to her, as it should be.

-Brady

Nothingman

"Once divided...nothing left to subtract.
Some words when spoken...can't be taken back.

Walks on his own...with thoughts he can't help thinking.
Future's above...but in the past, he's slow and sinking.
Caught a bolt 'a lightnin'...cursed the day he let it go...

Nothingman...Nothingman...
Isn't it something?
Nothingman..."

-Pearl Jam

Ted the Shetland Sheepdog

My family and I have decided that our aging sheepdog..."Ted"...has suffered for far too long with sickness and blindness, and that the only remedy for his pain is to allow him to die peacefully.

It's complicated when you're saddened by a dying animal...with animals, there's no closure...no final words or thoughts...just a dopey, innocent glare every once in a while...a glare in which you've managed to find some affection. They're not human...but they're missed. He's an old pal for sure...but at 77-dog-years, he's really just an old man...and he duly needs his rest.

And so, "change" continues on...as reigning champion...of my most despised aspect of life.

-Brady

Disclosure I

Typically, I'm pretty wary of what I put on this world wide web of ours...I'm not too liberal with giving names, or places, or even times. But I figure anonymity leads to misunderstanding...and lately, the "truth" has become a very important commodity to me...and since I am in desperate need to know the "truth" of something right now in my life...I will divulge some truth regarding myself...bit by bit over a course of weeks, perhaps.

Sooo, let me begin by introducing myself:

Name/Nom: My name is Brady (or BR80..."br-eighty")...although my real/legal first name is Matthew ...but I never really became accustomed to that...I was never actually called Matthew by name anyway. It has just always been Brady.

Age/Âge: I'm 21...May 6th 1985 is where this whole thing began.
Sex/Sexe: Male...that goes for gender too...seeing as there seems to be a distinction these days.
Hair/Cheveux: Brown/Brun
Eyes/ Yeux: Hazel/Noisette
Height/Taille: 6ft.
Weight/Poids: 170lbs

Sooo, I guess that's a start. I'm not sure what else to say exactly...I mean, even this level of exposure seems a tad unsettling...but it's too late to stop typing now...I'll be sure to continue my quest of disclosure...blog by blog...

[To be continued...]

Photoboothin'

Drugs at Night

"Drugs...drugs...drugs...some are good...some are bad...get them from your Mom and Dad."...this was a drug awareness message I remember seeing on TV (à la the Canadian government) when I was young. Yup...it's true...some are bad. I'm on some right now...but they're good. They're sleeping pills...for sleeping. Actually, I should be asleep (I took one about 3hrs ago)...but instead, I'm pushing the limits...in defiance of all things non-nocturnal. I attempted to write something yesterday on a piece of paper whilst on a sleeping pill...but the next morning it just turned out to be a bunch of wacky scribbles. Anyway, I suppose I'm doing pretty good right now for writing...but we'll see what morning brings. Hmmm...currently, if I move about too much I feel just a tad dizzy/drowsy. Interestingly enough, one of the side effects of zopiclone (these particular sleeping pills) is "sleepiness". After taking that under advisement...I've decided that I deem the side effects of these pills unacceptable...I wouldn't want to risk falling asleep. It's amazing what info you can gather from Drugs.com.

Another side effect I've discovered is "dryness of mouth"...vis-à-vis...an ensuing bad taste right after you take the pill and the following morning. Sooo, I says to myself..."Self, I imagine doctors would not prescribe such a medication to an insomniac professional wine taster...that could have dire consequences." You see, wine tasters must rely on a "clean palate" before they taste their wines...this drug, however, does not allow for such a palate...rather, it taints one's taste buds quite profoundly. Hmm, interesting. This further leads one to question: Let's say a professional wine taster (we'll call him Sir. Maxwell X. Orwell) is nervous about an annual wine tasting competition in which he had done poorly the year previous...and of all people, Orwell lost to his nemesis - Phinius R. Rottinfeffer (a master of the wine arts). Orwell hasn't been sleeping all year in anticipation for this upcoming showdown...how could he ever rely on a sleeping pill that distorts his finely tuned "palate"? What are his options? Clearly, Rottinfeffer has the advantage. Sorry Maxwell...looks like another annual wine tasting competition down the drain...that is - at least - until they discover how to create a half-decent sleeping pill void of any mouth altering side effects. Wow...I'm tired. Should I sleep? Perhaps...for now. But what's the point these days? Albeit, it would appear that I get both more and less done when I stay awake..."more", as in more procrastinating...and "less", as in less actual work completed. Oh well...on a side note...I really don't like wine...sooo, I have no qualms with these sleeping pills in particular.

G'night,
Brady

Midnight in a Perfect World

Midnight In A Perfect World Video - DJ Shadow lyrics

DJ Shadow always had the tendency to inspire many of my thoughts. This video is courtesy of a site I found from Tricia.

Change is Cyclical

Fall again.
Barren trees...leaves on rocks and grey dreary days.
A better time for walks...need more layers though...far less hot.
Figure it's cold for a reason...tilt of the Earth and whatnot..."seasons".
Colder from now on...that's for certain.
No going back now...but it'll happen again...this time next year.

No problem here...I enjoy the Fall...it's the change that breaks me.
Things change in the Fall...they always do...from the skies, to the trees, to the yellowed grass...to your own life...to the lives of all those around you.

Wish it were for the best...but change isn't about that...it's about breaking the balance to keep the order of things.

This is Fall.

-Brady

Fearing the Fleeting Thought

Now I mourn
For the fact that not mourning means
That my mind might have lost sight
Of that rarest life...
Of her who I once knew.

-Brady

Tomorrow On The Runway

"Did you leave the darkness without me?
You're always miles ahead.
And you're standing in tomorrow on the runway."

-The Innocence Mission

Whitney Victoria Barham 1985 - 2006

"Suddenly and way too soon for anyone to understand why, Whitney Victoria Barham, with friends and family present, succumbed to injuries in Victoria, B.C. on Wednesday, August 30, 2006 after a valiant, dignified, courageous fight to remain with us as the Light of our Lives and Heart of our Hearts. Whitney was born in Sudbury, ON on October 31, 1985 to Caroline and Mark at seven pounds, 10 and one half ounces at 11:19 a.m. From that time the world changed. Two and one half years later, Whitney became the older sister to Kelsey and once again the world changed. From early on, Whitney's zest for adventure and life challenged her parents, sister, teachers and friends to laugh and smile at the world. Whitney was Valedictorian for her Grade Twelve class. She was a member of Royal Canadian Legion, Branch No. 23 in North Bay, ON, President of the Model United Nations and was in her third year at the University of Lethbridge, with unfinished ambitions to work with her parents, own her own business and work at the United Nations. Whitney's dreams were ours, her strength boundless, and her opinions and interests many. Poetry, writing, music, family, cooking and Patrick were her passions, loves and light. Whitney never truly left the birth attachment to her mother Caroline, whether she was in the same room or in a different country. So hard is her passing; so wonderful was her life; so bright was her smile; so missed is her laugh. This gentle soul had eyes that could pierce the toughest of people and see the beauty within and her saying "I love you" will haunt the minutes of our days apart. Blessed are we to have had the privilege to have held her, kissed her, and loved her."

Whitney, I will never forget you, you will never leave my mind...I will never meet anyone like you again in my life. You meant so much to me...you knew me in a way that no other person has. I always felt that you and I were somewhat alike...and that if it weren't for the mere differences in our lives' varying circumstances...we might have been the same person. I will always love you and always aspire to be like you.

Family, friends mourn vibrant woman

By BILL LAYE, THE SUN

Family and friends of a Calgarian drowned in a scuba accident on the West Coast are remembering her as a vibrant woman whose life ended far too soon.

Whitney Barham, 20, died last Wednesday in a Victoria hospital after attempts to revive her proved fruitless.

Two days earlier, she and boyfriend Patrick Clark had been diving in an area known as Ogden Point when Whitney ran into trouble in rough water and lost her regulator, said her heartbroken mom Caroline.

"Patrick was very heroic ... he did everything he could," Caroline said last night.

Caroline said the loss of Whitney has devastated the family.

"She was just a sweet, sweet girl."

Had she lived, she definitely would have gone on to do great things, said her former principal, Derrick Mohamed.

"At her graduation she said she wanted to be an astronaut, doctor or pilot," Mohamed said of the former class valedictorian.

Funeral services are set for 2 p.m. Tuesday at Sacred Heart Catholic church.

Former classmates and teachers will celebrate her life 7 p.m. Wednesday at her High School.

Between Nightfall & Daybreak

I’ve been letting my mind do the thinking as of late…you know, just letting it run wild…and from this…my yonder-days emerge as the entirely dominating force behind my unhindered thoughts. Just as the impulse of the pulse…the compulsion of my memories becomes this great palpitation of the mind. The ever-exhausting feat of recollection takes its toll on my night’s sleep…or sleepless nights. When night draws near and I feel I should rest, I find no better solace than in the preoccupation of my mind - by the senseless thoughts and illusions ignited by its eye. When void of lively thought, I find myself in no other place than that of regret and desolation. I wish I told her how important she was to me, and how much I valued her. I’ve never written this down…though the thought persistently enters my mind…I hate getting too specific on this blogger thing…and I never have…I’m sorry…I miss you. You’re a good friend. I need rest…and I know I never will until I make peace. When night falls and I’m in the dark…just before my mind begins to slip into lifelessness…I always think of the sky…it’s vast and black emptiness…with those pale shards engraved in its design…and suddenly, I say to my self…“Just end it”…and I don’t know what that's suppose to mean exactly…yet, somehow I think it says that I want my last moments to be afloat amidst the serenity of a heavenly body…somewhere alone…cold…and beautiful.

Celestially,
BR80

My Sixty-six Idiosyncrasies

I needed to do this…I needed to know what made me Brady…while many of these idiosyncrasies are petty…it really helps paint a picture for me. Think of it as a form of very very cheap therapy. I think maybe others could gain some perspective by trying this too…I just tapped this “semi-stream of consciousness” state of mind and documented every possible quirk that I currently possess…and I have to say that I’m satisfied. This should rest my weary mind for a time.

I can’t sleep without a fan on

I don’t use an alarm clock

I like cheese whiz on pancakes

Reaching into ovens makes me uncomfortable

I enjoy Lava Lamps considerably

I despise having to dancing

I wear $1.99 t-shirts

I pretty much wear the same dress shirt to every job interview

I don’t drive

I walk pretty slowly

The concept of “surgery” in general makes me sick

My handwriting is scrawled in a strange fashion and is terribly sloppy

I enjoy black ball-point pens

I’m writing a memoir

I sometimes sketch pointless drawings

I take photographs of random things

I have these secret aspirations of wanting to either become a Jesuit priest, a detective, or an artist

I like the colour green…any shade really…as it stands for life

The number 33 is an important number for me…it’s perfect

I have trouble telling time on clocks with hands

I never really liked military time

I can only remember the order of North, East, South , and West by using an acronym

I can only tie my shoes using the “two bunny ears” technique

I feel I’ve become very proficient in tying ties

I like the train…dislike the bus

I enjoy walking places…everyday ordinary places…especially at the end of the day

I like sunrises better than sunsets…but dislike mornings

I love starring at the stars

I think rain is one of the most powerful empirical experiences…as it leaves no sense unscathed… sight...sound…touch…smell…and taste

I read Popular Science

The vastness and mystery of space sometimes haunts me

The depth and emptiness of the ocean sometimes frightens me

The intricacies of the body’s design fascinates and astounds me

I believe in God

I have avoided my church ever since my Grandmother died

I wear a cross on my wrist

I struggle between doing what is “just” and what is right

Much of the news makes me sad, angry, or sick

I sometimes sit in total silence without really realizing it

I can become very lost in music

I enjoy sensory deprivation

I think denying oneself of things is divine

I don’t eat breakfast and sometimes forget lunch

I bike extensively

I really only like 3 card games

I enjoy chess

I enjoy philosophy…but recently lost some interest thanks to a few University courses

I can be consistently late for important things and remarkably on time for the seemingly trivial

I despise shaving and haircuts…but always feel better after both of them

I have slippers…but never use them

I have a guitar…but can’t play it

I had a car…but no license

I had some friends…but had to cut them loose

I sometimes have trouble remembering what year it is exactly

My memories from years ago seem somewhat phoney and dream like

My family is bigger than any other person’s I know

I always wanted to have a big family of my own

I always had an ideal concept of what my Love would be like

I sometimes wonder where she is and what course of events is to unite us

I sometimes wonder if anything is meant to come to fruition…and maybe that I was created to be ended for some higher cause

I constantly distract myself so not to meditate on thoughts of fate and destiny

I have irregular sleeping habits

I have trouble shutting my mind off at night

I need white noise to divert/lull me

I can’t sleep with out a fan on

I don’t use alarm clocks

Habitually,
BR80

"Ambient"

"Consider this: 92% of the world's population feel that their lives could be better --- what about you?

If you could do anything, anything at all, what would you do?

What are you doing now?

Imagine that you could live your life knowing that it could not be better and never feeling that you would rather be doing something else, be somewhere else, or be someone else.

Now consider this: some people actually live that way --- and so could you.

Contemplate this: What if 90% of the problems you encountered in your life were mere illusions and only existed in your mind?

In your everyday life whenever something annoys you, stresses you, makes you mad, or makes you sad, consider if that something really matters.

Will you even remember how you felt in one day, one week, one month, one year, or what about in ten years?

So when the people you work for pressure you, and fail to understand you, does it really matter? And when they call you on the phone, screaming and yelling, does it matter and should you really allow that to influence your life?

It's all about choices."

By: Barcode Brothers

The Ender

A lesson less than enlightening:

It’s called life reversed
As in opposite birth,
And this end is in motion
At all pace but a crawl

As gnashing and gritting
Is death unrelenting
And daft and distracting
Are thoughts void of this

BR80

The Mind At Odds

Hapless burdens rest on the shoulders of every person…and as a result, aspirations are often withheld…duties go unfulfilled; as duty itself is a burden, and one cannot carry such a load while harboring other encumbrances. Why are we constructed in such a way that the uniqueness of our strengths is only surpassed by the uniqueness of our weaknesses? Is it nature that grants some the freedom from one burden to another? I know for certain that mens' and womens' weaknesses and strengths differ…but who has it worse? There has to be a disparity…and naturally, the degree of that disparity is determined by society. One of the greatest strengths I see in man is this incredible ability to destroy everything…and then to conjure up clever and new ways to demolish what remains. Perhaps women just haven’t been given the chance to mess up like men have. All I know is that my tendencies are sometimes disturbing and strikingly contradictory to my regular disposition…can I attribute this flux to nature…to being a man? Is there even such a thing as “nature”? Wouldn’t the existence of “nature” denote the presence of “destiny”? Do I believe in destiny? I look at this world and its history and I hate what some men are and what some became…and I hate the notion that this same monstrosity could mount itself within me.

“The law is good, then. The trouble is not with the law but with me, because I am sold into slavery, with sin as my master. I don't understand myself at all, for I really want to do what is right, but I don't do it. Instead, I do the very thing I hate. I know perfectly well that what I am doing is wrong…” – Paul (Romans 7:14-16 NLT)

How many voices reside within our minds? Why do we enact the wishes of some voices and not of others? And I know…the presence of a multitude of voices doesn't typically constitute as a sane notion, per se…but I propose that we all have voices, and perhaps that we’re all insane…because we’re all capable of the same things…as scary and as frustrating as that is. We’d like to think that we’re so different from each other…that the murderer, the cheater, the thief, and the liar all suffer from some mental defect that caused them to “malfunction”…to disgrace and sully the good name of mankind. I think the anomaly is just how well behaved we all seem to be…and how well we as humans fight those urges and tendencies that make us monsters most of the time. We seem to constantly do the things we hate…we are contradictory creatures…not by choice, but by nature…by being slaves to a particular human condition…one that lets us think one thing and then do another...that lets us completely neglect our duty to do what's right. I just wonder how much of this I can afford to deal with in myself before I simply stop doing anything; as there appears to be only one guaranteed remedy for a contradiction between mind and action – utter apathy.

On the brink,
BR80

Salvation’s Nature

No grace for good within,
No saving without loss,
No mercy without sin
Or without albatross

A man one portion good,
Good works will make a saint

A man in fraction evil,
Infraction makes but taint

So better is a villain
By an act of charity
Than a hero with a fault
And a glint of iniquity

BR80

A Message Among Chaos

You know what you never hear of these days? A message in a bottle. Now, I’m a youngling myself…so don’t get me wrong…we didn’t do such things “back in my day”. Yet, the romantic in me sees the message in a bottle as holding more than an author’s message…but rather, an author’s anticipation, hope, and yearning for fate to take hold of their words. And what on Earth is more volatile and chance-filled than the sea? I mean, what chance does your message have in reaching another shore…let alone, another person? I’m sure some whiz mathematician somewhere has calculated the probabilities – but that doesn’t interest me. To me, it’s not about possibilities…potential and chance don’t even cut it. I’m all about chaos...the fact that some things are incalculable – like love.

And to me, chaos doesn’t mean: "void of purpose"…it means the purpose is buried under a pile of seemingly pointless – sometimes hapless – events…events that cannot be understood let alone calculated. I believe in a sort of objective driven chaos…a chaos trying to reach some end. The seemingly minor and random things people do everyday affect countless others in countless ways…which, in my humble opinion…results in fate. And I know, it’s kind of a copout…what you do or don’t do is what was supposed to or not supposed to have happened…and that's fate. The whole thing is a paradox. And perhaps that’s where the connection to chaos lies…because in chaos, everything and nothing are connected. Anyway, I think I’ll send a bottle out to sea the next chance I get…after all, it’s just an old school form of bloggin’ with the added twist of fate.

S.O.S. to the World,
BR80

Unknown Ardour

Gouged and grave
Grated by gravity
Less just is justice
With her unknown to me

BR80