I'm 21 (I have achieved adultivity, and am flaunting it to realize my every whim)
I am completing my third year as an Arts student at the Faculte St. Jean, the francophone campus of the University of Alberta.(finishing an Arts degree, if I could ever get my indecisive ass in gear.)
I graduated from Paul Kane High School (Grad '05) and yeah, I guess I did ok.
I found love, and I'm quite sure it left me licking my wounds, so doggone it, I went out and found it again. (and so, the journey continues, and our hero is as valiant as ever...haha)
You would think I would learn something...but really, this whole "practicality paradigm" is a mere "pseudo-reality" anyway, so everyone but me can just "can" it and say "Chris, you're awesome." You can even say it with me.
And so...that should be good enough for an internet introduction...this profile has a bunch of other junk in it, but this is the end of your Coles Notes.
I am not one to self-advertise, so I will instead provide you with cryptic writings, pictures and other nonsense, and it will be up to you to decipher my complex personality. (evil, I know...)
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
(Dylan Thomas)
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
(John Keats)
It's always Keats with me, or Matt Groening. (intellectuals in the crowd groan/applaud.)
Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be angels in disguise...
(Shakespeare & Company, the whole world's home away from home.)
LIKES
A certain Panda lady...
The Simpsons...
Family Guy...
Sitting around quoting these two shows...
Texas Hold'em and Jack Daniels...
Ellipses and other variant forms of punctuation or grammatical devices...
Friends who are there, despite my terrible friendship skills.
Music
Rock N Roll (classic, hard, progressive,modern, bluesy, funky...)
Country (Jackson, Brooks, Rascal Flatts, etc.)
Jazz (Norah Jones, Theresa Sokyrka, Big Band, Coltrane, etc.)
Classical (Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, the good stuff...haha)
East Coast (Great Big Sea, Rankins)
Josh Groban (deal with it...)
Going on long rants about my dislikes, which depending on my mood at the time could vary from anything to everything, from American foreign policy to those ridiculous Baby Pepsis. just drink half a can and put it in the fridge for God's sake, no need to waste all that blasted aluminium (yes, thats alumin"i"um, and we can all bloody pronounce it correctly, its not calcum, or sodum, or potassum, why would "aluminum" (shudder) be any different...the idiocy of people when organized into large groups)
Anyways, the bitterness and emnity building within the nether regions of my soul could fill the 10000 character limit without any real effort, however I shall refrain from going all out tonight, and shall instead add things in bits and pieces.
Sitting beneath my pool table yesterday evening, (as I sometimes do after clearing the 15 numerically and spectrally co-ordinated spheres from the table in no relevent or logical order, without reference to any rule of law) I came to the conclusion that I am, in the relative scheme of things, an informality. Yes, that's correct, an informality, an unimportant, irrelevant, immaterial, inconsequential, trivial speck of worthless elemental dust scattered in some ghastly, filthy, empty wasteland of the universe, unbeknownst to anyone beyond a mere parsec from this God-forsaken rock. (Ok...so I've been a little depressed lately and I have been reading way too much into my Earth Sciences class, where we have been discussing theoretical formations of the Universe and other intergalactic phenomena...but I do have a semi-valid rant to go on...so bear with me.)
So, upon the ultimate realisation of this unfortunate conclusion, what is a fairly intelligent
