Lost roll

I was trying to emulate what it would be like if I found a bunch of misplaced film and developed it, by taking a whole year's worth of pictures and developing all of it at the beginning of the next year and seeing what I would remember and what I had forgotten. That was the 2010 project.
It turns out I really did misplace a few rolls of film, some of which I still haven't found. I did manage to get this one roll developed though, two years later. I know no one reads this anymore, but I figured I'd post them anyway, just for posterity's sake.

2010, the last good year.

Friendly Neighbourhood Darbs

Dear Neighbour Who Lives Almost Directly Across From Me:

I never liked you. Ever. When I was 9, you stopped me when I was riding my bike up and down the street and began lecturing me in broken English, for riding my bike too fast. Broken English isn't even the right way to describe it. Maybe more like shattered-into-a-million-pieces. Not that there's anything wrong with being foreign, but if you're gonna lecture someone who only speaks English, you should take into consideration that they probably won't understand anything you're saying. Your incredibly thick accent didn't help either. Frankly, I can't even be certain you were yelling at me for riding my bike too fast. For all I know, you could have been complimenting me on what a nice BMX bike I had (it was pretty bitchin', I know), but your tone indicated otherwise.
Oh, and more importantly, I don't know where you got off thinking you could just start yelling at a kid for riding his bike too fast, especially if he's not your kid and he wasn't riding anywhere near you. It was very cunty of you.

You also yelled at my friends and I from the window of your bedroom for skateboarding on the street when I was 15. Because you were trying to take a nap. I understand it can be a little loud, but it was 3 in the afternoon and I've heard lawnmowers louder than the noise we were making. The garbage truck that comes every Wednesday morning is 5 times louder than we were, but I don't see you yelling at the garbage men. And we weren't yelling or causing a ruckus either. We were just trying to ollie over a manhole. And frankly, you could have just come down and asked us nicely instead of yelling at us from your window. But we politely obliged.

Today, while I was having a smoke on the edge of my driveway, you rushed out and began calling me over. It would have been nice if you had waved me over and said "Excuse me" instead of simply "Hey!" but I'll let it slide and chalk it up to your broken English, although I've met plenty of other foreign immigrants with manners. You called me over to simply point out that there were leaves on my lawn and began ordering me around. I couldn't believe my ears; you were ordering me or my dad or just us in general to rake our lawn. Our lawn. There are so many things wrong with that, that I can't even begin to explain it all to you. Quite simply, you're out of your fucking mind. I don't even live at my parents' place anymore, so while I could have easily told you to go fuck yourself (not that you would have understood), I didn't. I raked it, something my dad was going to shortly do. I did it myself because my dad had literally been bitching about another one of our neighbours less than 5 minutes ago and if I had told him what you just did, he would have gone postal. I don't even live with my parents anymore, but I don't want them to have beef with anyone on the street, because it's awkward as hell if you have to see them every day. Since you were watching me the entire time I raked the lawn, I'm sure you saw that I only did a half-assed job.

Anyway, the good news for me is that while I didn't tell my dad about it, I did talk to my mom about it. She's given me her blessing to tell you to go fuck yourself (again, not that you would understand); she's ready to throw down and if you had seen how badly she beat me as a kid, you'll know she doesn't fuck around. So go ahead, stick your nose into our business one more time. I dare you.

Your hateful neighbour,
Darren

P.S. Stop standing at your door all the fucking time. Do you realize how fucking creepy it is for me to go out for a smoke and find you standing there staring at me every single time?

Shooting myself in the foot

During my second year in the program, I would randomly insert words like "penis" while writing my class notes to mess with a classmate who would sometimes look over my shoulder to copy off me.

And now I have to study my own notes. Damn it.

Last day until...

My big exam is tomorrow; I feel like a deathrow convict whose execution is tomorrow. I can try and remain as stoic as I want, but really, I could shit my pants any second. I'm far from what I would call prepared. I'm usually good with tests and exams, but this one's a little different from others in the sense that:

-for certain parts of the exam, there'll be someone with a clipboard scrutinizing every move I make and every word that comes out of my mouth (note to self: stop saying "Fuck" or "Shit" under my breath). Like that's gonna help with my nerves.

-there's a very high passing rate for this exam. I really don't want to be one of those idiots who didn't pass.

-like I mentioned before, this exam is costing me $1300 that I don't even have. I'd hate to pay that again if I fail and have to re-do it (I'll have to pay even more next time; the fee goes up in 2012).

Thanks to everyone who volunteered to help me out or even gave me encouragement. Let's hope I don't shit my pants tomorrow.

Correction

Okay, so if you're reading this and you haven't read the entry below...read that first. Go ahead. I'll wait.




Done? No? Jeez, what are you, illiterate? I said I'd wait, but I don't have all day.



Done? Good.

So this is an addenum to the previous entry; the contact-lens-fitting-party is now also a housewarming party. Mixing business with pleasure is what I do best. I feel kind of lame having a housewarming party nearly two months after I've moved in, but at the insistence of certain friends and to make the contact lens fitting less lame, I've caved.
If you really think about it, nothing's actually changed. Friends will be over and I'll still stick contact lenses in their eyes. Really, it's just the addition of certain vices and libations that make it a housewarming party. And to be honest, I was gonna indulge in those afterward anyway. Alcohol makes everything better, right?

Have courage, will practice

So studying's been going pretty shitty. Thankfully, that's okay! It turns out I was over studying, despite the fact that I've maybe only studied a total of 2.5 hours. I got a hold of the exam outline earlier this week and discovered, it's 99% skill-based. Meaning no theory. Which is what I've been sort-of studying. Meaning I wasted 2.5 hours of my life, when it could have been better used to...do other stuff. No, I don't know what other stuff. What are you, the time management police or something?

But just because I don't have to study anymore doesn't mean I don't need to practice. I'm pretty well covered for most of the exam, but there's one little part that I'm having trouble with: insertion and removal of hard contact lenses on a patient. They're not like soft contacts in that you can just stick `em in and pluck them out at will. Well, the sticking in part is the same, but taking them out is a whole other thing in itself. It involves a particular method you have to use. It's not difficult, but it is tricky. And it gets even trickier with certain types of people (ASIANS!). I used to be pretty decent at it, but for some reason, I became increasingly nervous. By the end of it, on my final exam, I choked and the examiner had to end up doing it for me. And since then, I haven't touched them. So my skills on that section are rusty to the say the least.

Which is where you, my favoritest person in the world, come in. I need to brush up on my hard contact skills and I can't do it without people to practice on. I've been asking all my friends to come over next Sunday (October 9th) so that I can practice on everyone; I need as many people as I can so I can get used to any type of person and any type of eye (including ASIANS!).

But I don't want to feel like I've conned anyone, so I should warn you the shit ain't comfortable. It doesn't hurt, though. Ever have something fly right into your eye? Like a tiny speck of dirt or dust? It feels like that, only it feels like that all the time. Again, it doesn't hurt, but chances are the first words coming out of your mouth will be "Okay, get it out. Now. Getitoutgetitoutgetitout etc." I'm not trying to scare anyone; it's just so you know what to expect. It won't be comfortable, but it's not like I'm gonna leave it in your eye for a few hours. As soon as it's in, I'm gonna take it out. But make sure you stay calm; the more you squirm and whine, the harder it is for me to take out the lens and the longer it'll stay in your eye.

Obviously, I wouldn't ask for help from my friends without doing something in return. So, after my exam, I'll take everyone out for dinner. I don't know if it'll be everyone all at once or if it'll be in small groups or if I'll have to end up taking each person out one by one, but we can figure that out later. The point is, you're getting free food. At the place of your choice, with no budget restraints. So if you're feeling brave and have my contact info, let me know if you're in (I don't know why I'm doing this; just about everyone I wanted to ask has already been asked). I promise I won't completely blind you.

The Scarborough Computer

Back in 2007, my PC died. It died a slow death; it got slower and slower, then kept crashing and eventually, it couldn't even boot up. I had a reputation in my household for killing every single computer I touched, so I didn't bother to tell my parents. I simply moved on to using my Macbook all the time. I'd occasionally use my mom's computer if I needed to write essays or assignments (my Macbook doesn't have a decent word processor and I was too cheap to buy a copy of Word for it), which would always result in my dad asking me why I didn't use my own computer. I'd never have an answer for him. Surprisingly, he was never able to put two and two together, but I preferred it that way.

Shortly after I moved out, my dad took it upon himself to clean out my room. It's a huge task to take on; I've been trying to clean my room for years, but I'd always give up halfway through because there was simply too much shit. Plus, I'm a pack rat, so I couldn't bring myself to throw out a lot of stuff. But since my shit has no sentimental value to my dad, he was able to plow through everything. My dad's hella proud of the job he did, and frankly, so am I. My room actually has an echo now; there used to be so much shit in my room, everything absorbed the sound. It was like being in a vacuum.
I guess the whole "fresh start" thing made me decide to give my PC another go. No dice; I was met with a blank screen. But I couldn't turn it off, because the power button apparently only turns on the computer, not off. So I hit the reset button. And for some reason, it worked!
Or rather, it works as well as a computer that hasn't been used in 4 years can possibly work. It's slow as shit, but what I'm happy about is the fact that I managed to retrieve files I thought were lost forever. It's funny to see the weird shit I saved or screen captured...

A screen capture from a video chat I had with Owen. He was wearing his parents' coat and hat and pretended to be a pimp.

Owen ain't down with misery (misery ain't pimp enough).

I laughed at this 4+ years ago and I still find it funny.

Jeff pieced together a panoramic shot (with me in every frame) of Kennedy Park. You gotta click on it to see the thing in full size, though.

SB.

FAT COCK.

And apparently, I like fat cocks.

And that's the note I'm gonna leave off on. Fat cocks.