Redirection

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www.thetrigger.net

Finishing Touches

Almost there. I suspect I should be ready to go live this weekend. Boy am I eager to get this going. There are still a couple things I'm not sure about, things like whether or not to have comments. I want to encourage discussion but I definitely want to weed out the disingenuous remarks. People have a tendency to get quite hostile on some subjects. Especially the ones that I must write about.

I've been thinking about my father a lot today.

I had a burst of idea about a new web site, a new side project, that I don't want to discuss here. Sometimes it feels like I don't have quite enough energy for every idea I have, but I'm becoming more accustomed to understanding which will benefit me and which won't. All I want right now is for one of my passions to pay the base of my bills, and if I need a part-time job beyond that, so be it. I just don't want to be here at this desk the rest of my life. I wouldn't want to celebrate that at all.

Understanding Quality

In my sleep, I saw us walking into a book store. She went around, looking at this and that, while I went to the counter and asked for a particular title. It wasn't in stock. For whatever reason, I knew it definitely was, and went behind the counter, picked up my uniform and nametag, and searched through the system. Sure enough, there it was. But once I'd found it, I couldn't leave. My shift wasn't over. So she waited for me, wandering the store until my frantic workday was over.

I've been awake since 4:45, when my alarm went off as planned. I waited for the bus, listened in on a conversation in French -- I was practicing, in a sense, you see -- and continued to read a book that I'd started reading several months ago and never finished. In the bit I read this morning, the narrator and his son were climbing a mountain, the son getting tired and cranky. They set up camp for the night as the author meandered into a dialogue regarding quality. I still don't quite understand it, or at least how the author would like me to. That's the problem with me and philosophy texts; sometimes I find myself just reading the words, unable to put the meaning together, my thoughts drifting away from focus. And then I'm lost. Tired and cranky, and I stop climbing the mountain. This is why I first stopped reading this book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

But really, I understand what the author is saying completely, I just don't allow myself to realize it. It's similar to my new web site; mostly complete, entirely functional, but not exactly how I want it presented. And so that's the delay with this site, my definition of quality is far too literal, and for whatever reason I don't want to redefine it how the author would like me to. Or more precisely, in context of the narrator's dilemma, have quality lose its definition entirely.

You see, I know what quality is even without defining it. Just like I don't need to jump over the counter to find the exact book I want, and especially how I don't need to spend the entire day there long after I've completed my objective. It's all about steps, right? The mountain will be climbed in time, and the view will be spectacular, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't rest.

Webbing

Look, ahh, I know you're still reading this! You're wondering why there haven't been any updates! Have I completely stopped writing anythings?

No, no, and, no!

My site is almost ready to go live, I swear! And once then, that!

Interim

I've been testing applications and scripts lately. Decided to use third-party code instead of writing my own, otherwise I'll be reinventing the wheel for another few months. There are things that are beyond my capabilities and time constraints, and the sooner I accept that, the sooner I can push things forward. Gah, I want to go live with my vision soon, otherwise it will get blurred; and once live, there's no going back. I will have to become as hyper-prolific as my ambition. Writing, recording, drawing, creating. This life I'm in now is, at least career-wise, completely unfulfilling, and I know that I deserve better.

Oh, and I., thank you.

(Losing and Finding) The Way

A dream last night that I couldn't shake despite waking from it twice had me arriving from a flight to Vancouver and being met by my father. Such a surprise that he managed to navigate his way through public transportation to welcome me home. I was so happy and relieved to see him. I followed him up an escalator, on the Skytrain, on the bus; always behind him, always looking up at him. We went in circles, neither of us could navigate the city well enough to escape the loop. The city blurred every place I've lived; Peace River, Edmonton, and here, Vancouver. We never found our way.

Yesterday afternoon left me unable to fight feelings of insufficiency. My mind was running scared. It was nothing more than I couldn't. Everything.

Yesterday evening I could. Once again, I could, and she brought me there. I never want to go back. Or, for that matter, anywhere without her.

Impatience

Nowhere else in nature is such impatience found as it is in us. It never used to be this way, probably because we simply didn't know any better. Now technology has created a demand of instant satisfaction. At any given moment, we hardly have time; it is not on our side, we have turned it against ourselves.

Yesterday, I was on my motorcycle, unable to turn left because of a few stray pedestrians. There was no oncoming traffic, but I hardly felt like either running anyone over, so I waited. The twit behind me honked incessantly, and so I turned back to look at him, pointing out the people I didn't want to hit. As I turned away from him, he inched his bumper to my back tire and gave me a nudge. Imagine that, someone so put out by these few seconds of waiting, someone so self-important they couldn't even be bothered to change lanes and go around me.

We often focus on a few things of little importance and inflate it immeasurably in our mind. Listen, the world will wait.