For some reason, until the last few months, I went the entirety of my life to date without understanding the true nature of irony. I mean, most of us get the basic gist of the concept from right around whatever age we begin to develop the capacity for non-literal interpretation of the world. And in that initial aha of grasping the significance of the firetruck on fire, I suspect that there’s an equally significant haha moment: we are all somehow hardwired to find humor in irony. (I state that as fact, where I should undoubtedly be offering it up only as speculation. But I figure that as long as I’m commenting on things that I have absolutely zero authority to comment on, I might as well go all in…)

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Checking In

I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from writing. No particular reason. Or many unparticular ones, maybe…

For one thing, I’ve gotten hopelessly sucked into my new venture – in a good way, as far as I’m concerned. I obsess about it around the clock, treading firmly in what is conventionally referred to as “workaholic” territory. I wonder if there’s a lexicographical distinction to be made, though, when the obsessive pursuit is born of passion, rather than of obligation or compulsiveness or, really, whatever it is that might drive people to sink themselves in work they wouldn’t do if not for the paycheck. If that even exists, it seems to me that the version of this behavior that’s driven primarily by external impetus (be it employer demands or pursuit of financial reward or other) is wholly unsustainable, meaning that if you’re a workaholic for reasons other than that you love what you do, I’d bet that burnout is inevitable. And if you do love what you do, I would argue that you can’t really be a workaholic at all… Either way, since we last spoke, I’ve been enthralled by my (extremely poorly paying) ‘job’, and frankly unwilling to put it aside in favor of writing.

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On snow days and industriousness as virtue.


Snow day!

That today was the first one since leaving white-collar purgatory is a milestone of relatively little practical significance. (I mean, I could make a point of using this blog to highlight the changing of seasons, but something tells me there aren’t many who have this site bookmarked as their primary weather resource.) There was a certain symbolic significance, though, to the fact that an errand I ran this morning had me traveling in the direction opposite to the morning rush.

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Let’s go ahead and get this out in the open: my recent slowdown of output on this site has been pretty unfair. I mean, here you are having found the most compelling, insightful, reliable bit of diversion on the entire internet, and then I go ahead and pull the rug out from under you by reducing the stream of new content to a trickle. And for what? Staving off my own starvation? Selfish…

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Imagining a New Economic Model

On the auspicious occasion of my previous post having been my first/last foray – however shallow – into geopolitical issues, I feel compelled to point out that as much as possible I actually prefer to not describe my worldview in terms of the many convenient and familiar labels (political, religious or otherwise) typically used for such a purpose. This is not because I’m my own unique snowflake and how dare you try to fit my identity into one of your archetypal boxes? (Though, admittedly, my happening to have been born within – barely – most accepted definitions of the ‘Millennial’ era would theoretically normalize my taking such a stance.) It’s simply because to apply such labels is normally too reductive to be of any great value.

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Take Two of These and Call Me (In Mourning)

I just ate two cinnamon buns because fuck the world.

That was the unprompted message I received, this morning, from an ordinarily nutrition-conscious friend. (A more recent update: his head and stomach are now hurting – presumably from the dietary assault, but one can’t be sure.) He wasn’t alone, of course. The events of last night were enough to make any rational person contemplate suicide by nihilistic sugar overdose. For my part, I went to sleep upset, slept fitfully and woke up feeling unmistakably depressed.

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Leo & The Ice-Cream Sunday


It was really warm out, two days ago. Unseasonably so.

At a time of year when daily temperatures in Winnipeg typically top out just above freezing (2° Celsius or so), the thermometer checked in at almost 17°C on this ice-cream Sunday. Still, it took me until the next day to make the connection between that balmy weather and the documentary I watched that evening: Before the Flood is a National Geographic production about climate change, available for free viewing online, starring Leonardo DiCaprio as his concerned self. It’s impactful and you should check it out, but that’s not why I bring it up.

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The Science of Muddling Through

I’m finding that the byproduct of a personally transformative journey – characterized by constant reflection on self and surroundings – is a persistent sense that “the universe keeps trying to tell me things”. I’ve even described a few such moments in my writing, as though I’m the holder of a blind belief that the planets have aligned so as to guide me, specifically, toward some spiritual awakening.

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