I lost all my thoughts of angels in an aspirin billboard. (Day 82) [Guest Update]

I'm really excited about today's post.

See, most heterosexual men these days have a "mancrush", as touched on by Seinfeld. Theres nothing gay about it, you just really like and respect the guy and think he can do no wrong/is perfect in every single way.

My mancrush hails all the way from Canada. His name is Jon "Dreamy" Daley. All jokes and schtick aside, he's an awesome person, and I'm really proud and excited to present to you his guest spot.

sigh....he's so dreamy...

And ladies, he's single.

-Aaron Hale
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I was sitting in one of my classes the other day, when the professor made an anecdote from his life in order to highlight how a certain aspect of the text held true. He related that many years ago when he was dating someone from Montreal there was a service that ferried people between Toronto and there called, the “bar car”. Essentially, it would be a taxi that a bunch of strangers would take and just drink and smoke in until they arrived. Knowing Montreal, this is a very Montreal idea. That city has a buzzing energy like New York, where you can walk a block and have the beginning of a novel or a shampoo jingle written. Mind you, I recently proclaimed the same thing about my then location at a bus terminal during a mid-week bender in Peterborough, Ontario.

The crux of my professor’s story was that it is amazing the things you will tell strangers. We do this because as people we have a strong desire to novelize our own history and to self mythologize. He used the example of a failed relationship where we go back through events and try to order them in such a way that our current circumstances happened for a “reason”. I realized that I too was guilty of such things in my own life. If anyone were to ask me, I’d say I was an atheist. However, given my disposition to the ordering of my past in these neurotic causal strings I feel like a shabby one. If everything I do is somehow in service to a product of an event yet to come what is the point of living each moment? Wouldn’t my philosophical leanings allow me to be simply content with the fact that things just happen? Maybe I am religious after all and rather than worshiping the moon or a zombie, I prefer a cult of personality ¾ my own personality. The upside to this is at least when I’m gone I won’t be leaving behind any followers or monuments to excess. I’m the leader and the follower, the father and the son, Hall AND Oates. Although…I do think I caught this girl giving me eyes the other day in lecture!

Speaking of lectures, I’ve been having a bit of a rough go of it this semester. I’ve been contemplating getting some professional help. Truthfully, I’ve had various people suggest that I do over the years. My own feelings on whether this is needed tends to ebb and flow. It is my opinion that with a healthy diet, sleeping pattern and exercise I can control things and have. The only issue is when something beyond my control triggers my mental problems making them more acute, it can offset one of those safeguards and in turn, all of them. I’ve been researching drugs and quite frankly, it scares me. It isn’t just the side effects, although anal fissures don’t sound like any walk in any park I would like to take. As silly as it sounds, in first year I watched this documentary on how these academics believed depression is linked to creativity and it spooked me. What if I get on meds and I’m cut off from the source of my creativity or what if that source is muted? What if it does manage to kill the leader but leave the follower behind? I don’t want to lose all my thoughts of angels in an aspirin billboard.

-Until tomorrow.