An Aged Mentality

When I speak to others my age I'm intrigued...intrigued by how different I can feel from my peers. I'm 121-years-old give-or-take...not in experience, mind you, but in mentality. I have this newly emerging need to experience the world...as though "old age" is soon to lay claim to my life. My desire to know the world is not the atypical "searching" that occurs in many at my age...as they backpack across Europe for a few months...hit-up some new dope...or shack-up with random partners, all in an attempt to "find" one's self. As a man on his metaphorical death bed, I can tell you that worldly distractions are of no interest to me...but rather, my interests lie in learning all I can about life...while I still have time. This old age mentality makes exploring the world a pressing necessity...post haste.

Now, I've attempted to explain this notion of mine on various occasions...and most cohorts fail to recognize my meaning of "searching" the world. Some will undoubtedly spout words of affirmation in response to my recognition that "life's too short"...but they do so for their own reasons...because to many, "youth" is an excellent excuse for whittling away time in "experiences"...new experiences...fun experiences...stupid-pointless-drunken experiences...since all is fair game when you're young...the "boys will be boys" defense. I'm not that person...I never was. Besides, I need no more excuses than I already have. I don't want to wander aimlessly, drink myself stupid, and migrate senselessly between shallow relationships...I want to escape the stigmas of youth...I want to gain knowledge...real world knowledge...the kind no one knows until they've seen it with their own eyes or felt it within them.

-Brady

The Cold/Calculating Logic of Life

Lets suppose there's no purpose to life...why do the rules of reality exist? Why are there laws in thermodynamics...chemistry...biology...and all nature in general? Don't things seem all too perfect to be haphazard? There's an eerie logic at work in the balance of existence...within our bodies, ecosystems, and solar system. There's a cruel logic to the nature of life and death: we all live...we all die. Is that not reason enough to think that this logic extends into some purpose for life itself?

Just think: we are ruled by rules...natural law. Beyond the societal laws and moral ethics we've incurred...we are ruled by baser laws. So why ask "how does one hunger?", when you can wonder, "why do we hunger?". We should question the true origin of these tendencies. Our bodies tell us: you must sleep, eat, drink, breathe...you must at all costs avert death...your genetic code must survive. Any evolutionist will tell you that these notions are as a result of man being steeped in millions of years of hard knocks. But I think one should look beyond the existence of the Earth itself...look back to that "Big Bang" and ask, "In the very beginning of it all...what determined these rules?".

How did this logic come out of nothingness? All people - scientists or otherwise - must admit: things are just too well thought out. Surrrre, we can figure out these laws (that's empiricism at its finest), but are we any closer to knowing why these rules govern us? Why we exist? Why we must survive? Let's stop asking "how?"...let's start asking "why?". I say until science offers a reason as to the "why"...all scientific discovery should be taken at its face value - a detailed road map of the world...void of half-decent directions.

-Brady

Where's my Mind?

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place."

- Emily Dickinson

I think I have to write something...hypergraphia of the highest caliber. I haven't been sleeping in my room this past week...I've been on our living room floor, and I've slept much better as a result. There seems to be something about the room you sleep in...it has a feeling all to its own...like an old classroom...or a hospital hallway. There are memories in places...places in memory...and there's a whole theory postulated by the ancients as to the nature of this. The method of loci speaks to the idea that memory preoccupies a space...much like boxes preoccupy a warehouse...the key to remembering nearly anything is to picture the item you want to retain as being in a physical place...a place you know well...like your home...next, each item you wish to remember should be mentally placed in a corresponding room of your home (this seems to work even better if you are physically in the room you wish to associate with your item). In fact, there are cases where we do the association of place/memory subconsciously...students who write exams in the same room they've been taught do better than students who write their tests elsewhere. They say to never do school work - or any work for that matter - in your bedroom...you'll subconsciously lose sleep due to your mind's association of work+bedroom=wakefulness. I guess writing on a blog counts as work, hey? Best be jettisoning.

-Brady

Our Future

A leaden weight
We waste away
Wonder if I can wait to wane
Looking forth to retain the names
Of all the rest we lost in vain

-Brady

"Meditation XVII"

Every person is connected...because every person dies...and since all life ends...all life is shared. Maybe that's nonsensical hippie jive...but I'm trying to appreciate life from death...and thus far, it's a hurting thing to do...because as much as her death is a tribute to the greatness of life...it nevertheless blares the deafening truth of our mortality. Johnny said it best: "Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris (Now, this bell tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die)".

-Brady

"...all mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. As therefore the bell that rings to a sermon calls not upon the preacher only, but upon the congregation to come, so this bell calls us all; but how much more me, who am brought so near the door by this sickness.

. . .

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

-John Donne (1623)

Rock...Paper...Scissors

I was on the train about two months ago sitting across from a strange fellow...he was in his 20s...shifty...but nonetheless normal in appearance. I hadn't really given him a second thought...that is until he started acting fidgety. I tried to ignore the behavior...as most people try to do on the train. I got a vibe...but I couldn't predict his next move. Suddenly, the man leaned forward with his fist extended outward toward me...not in a threatening manner, mind you...but rather, as if he wanted a game of rock-paper-scissors.

I was skeptical for a moment...yet I complied. Without a word said I held out my fist and we began to play. First game...a stalemate...both rock. Second...I win...paper beats rock. Third game...I won again...scissors beat paper. I guess we were playing best-two-out-of-three. He had a hard time hiding his disappointment...but regardless, not a word was spoken...he sat back in his seat and-just as it had began-we stared out the train window in silence. I wasn't exactly sure as to what had transpired in that moment...but I didn't care. A few stops later I was off the train and on my way.

I hadn't thought of that little incident until recently...it puzzles me now...but wasn't that the guy's point? Wasn't he trying to behave strangely on purpose? I'll never know...and frankly, his actions don't concern me. There are others, however, who are just as (if not more) oddball in nature...others who outright harass train passengers. I've dealt with my share...the crackheads...the punks...the creeps...they're out there to hurt someone. I've been fortunate enough to defuse any real problems...but I fear the day I get wrapped up in some mugging or random stabbing...law of odds I suppose. Until then...lets just hope every train ride is a harmless game of rock-paper-scissors.

-Brady

Path Aplenty

I'm completely immobilized...a serious case of life paralysis. I have yet to choose a path these days. It's times like these where one could take a wrong turn...a turn for the worse...turn in circles...or turn out badly. These days, it's the solutions that don't make sense...not the problems. The problems are quite clear. I've always had a desire to fix the things that break in my life...fix the people...fix the issues...find the solutions...the answers. But there are no answers now. No remedy in reach...just a mess of thoughts and a lot of speculation as to my next course of action...my next direction...the next move. I hope it's the right one. Until then...since I'm stopped...I mine as well have a rest.

-Brady

Disclosure II

Cont'd from Disclosure I:

Nationality-orgins/Nationalité-origines: I've been a Canadian all my life...my entire family has been here since the c.1600s...or possibly earlier on account of our "métis" bloodline. Eventually, we mixed among other European decedents in the West.

I love the West. To me, The Rockies are one of the greatest creations on Earth...a creation that I am constantly humbled by...when I stand at the foot of their presence...I'm terrified and awestruck...the vastness and power that hails from them are life altering. And even greater still can be found further West...our Pacific Ocean shoreline...mountainous, green, refreshing, and calming...to me, it's an Ocean that inspires an eeriness likened only to the depths of space...it's lonesome...massive...expansive...and freeing.

Siblings/Frères-soeurs: Three older brothers...one younger sister. I wouldn't want it any other way. I always planned on someday having a very large family of my own...it's a happy prospect for sure...but it's really not my place to plan I suppose.

Religion/Religion: I've always looked to my parents when trying to find the right balance between being in the world...but not of it. They both policed during the 1970s for the most crime-ridden city (per capita) in Canada...and for that, I truly value their theological perspective. They had to deal with some harsh reality...but they always did the right thing...always had compassion...and always helped whoever needed it most. My parents were committed to God...and there was no situation (no matter how gruesome or disturbing) that shook that...even to this day. They have been an unbelievable example to me...I find them remarkable...and I see their level of faith in Christ as something I aspire to.

Personally, I value the Orthodox Christian philosophy...it's love God with your everything...love your neighbor with all of the love you could possibly have for yourself...and do it all with the greatest of humility. Pretty simple rules...but more importantly...very powerful in practice.

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.