On Waking Up…

I don’t recall when exactly it happened. I’ve scoured through memories like old textbooks, hoping the answer would be hidden amongst the pages; a word, barely visible amongst the dust and dirt, that would unlock every secret.

The more you search, the words begin to blur, twisting and taking on new shapes; refusing to be cemented into one single meaning, existing instead as an idea.

Today, you’ll swear the sky is a brighter shade of blue; the wind is most certainly more refreshing; even the water tastes better. Only a moment ago the world outside was dark, the moon glowing dimly in the sky. Yet, when you turn your head – just for a second – you turn back to dawn stretching its orange and gold slowly over the horizon.

This is how love works. It does not hit you like a punch in the face. It stalks you, whispers ideas in your ear as you sleep, and makes its home in your heart. You’ll notice the change, like spring to summer, but never exactly when it occurred. You will realize that love is your shadow, with you since the moment the sun took its place in the sky.

And she is the sun.


On Aunts and Uncles

The following post was inspired by Writing 101: Post-a-Day Writing Prompts.

With Father’s Day now past, the idea here is to figure out which relative I would dedicate a day to, and why? Now the first thought is grandparents, but really they are just an extension of moms and dads, who have their days (Who doesn’t wish their grandpa or grandma happy Father’s/Mother’s day?), but I am also reasonably confident that there is a grandparents day already in existence.

So why not Aunts and Uncles? I may be biased, in the sense that my dad worked a lot growing up, and my uncle Greg had no kids, and so he was sort of an impromptu father figure. Not out of a want to displace my dad in that position, or that it was forced on him at all, but he lived nearby to my brothers, sister, and I, and his schedule allowed more downtime than my dad’s did, so we did things. From seeing movies, to learning to wrench on cars, to road trips to Florida (From Ontario, Canada, for anyone who cares about the distance involved). You can’t not give credit to a guy who is willing to put his three 13-15-year-old nephews in the back of a rented PT Cruiser and drive for a day and a half, only stopping for food and one overnight stay, each way.

That gets me thinking, even, that I have a lot of friends who are aunts or uncles, and treat their nephews and neices like they are their own. To me, that’s the way it should be. I want kids one day, but I am not ready quite now, and so I am hoping that a brother or sister pulls through for me. The thing is that we celebrate Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and for the sake of argument, grandparent’s day (But, again, grandparents are still mothers and fathers), and all throughout these days, as with Valentine’s Day, we remind one another that we should always take time to tell or show our moms and dads what we love them and care about them. 

Nobody remembers the aunts and uncles, though.

So even though this day will more than likely never happen, if you have an aunt or uncle who has taken time out of their day to pick you up from school, drive you to exams, pick you and a friend up in another town because you got on the wrong bus on your first day of high school, road tripped, or otherwise treated you like their own child, take a minute and just remind them how grateful you are.

If We Could Only See Us Now

I’ve been trying to come up with a title – a unique name for this blog – all week. I landed with this while listening to some old Thrice albums, and that lyric came out and spoke to me.

And so, “If We Could Only See Us Now” is it. The way I see it, my whole goal in writing this is to A) practice some writing by publishing things as I go, and B) Get more in touch with myself and what I’m about. It occurs to me, after reading the title, that perhaps I am not alone in the sense that I picture myself a certain way (if you read my last post, about being uncommitted), and that may not be how it is (Not having found the right motivation)

Self-Perception is central to how you live your life: if you think you’re ugly, you aren’t going to approach that gorgeous girl/guy; if you think you’re too shy, it becomes your crutch; if you believe yourself to be smooth, you maybe will approach that girl or guy, and if they walk away, they’re just a bitch/dick.

I’m going with the idea that everyone should carve out some time to learn who they really are. What are your strengths? Your weaknesses? And then look at how you see yourself? Are you a better person than you think? Do you have some opportunities? You can always make yourself better; that’s why I chose the Hemingway quote.

Hello, World

My name is Scott, and I figure I should take some time on here to make my first blog post a little summary of who I am, and why I am here.

I think maybe I am a bit of a Jack-of-all-Trades, for one. I even chose “Hello, World” because that is the first thing any guide on computer programming teaches you to output. I’m a nerd like that (and no, I have not done any programming in a long time — I should get back to that).

I am an out-of-practice programmer, web designer, and general computer nerd. At 16 years old I was building computers and websites from scratch, for fun. I would spend hours, days, and weeks programming in any language I could get my hands on — from scripting in a then-popular game known as Graal, to Turing, to C++. I learned to work in PHP and loved the similarities and differences in these languages. My grade 11 computer science final project was a 2-level zelda game (I drew the maps in paint, but the collision detection and shitty AI was all done on my own).

And then I graduated, and fell out of practising.

I am also a mediocre musician, in a sense. I love music. I have played guitar since I was 16 years old, and also played Saxophone, and have even picked up a little keyboard (the similarities between guitar and keyboard/piano definitely helped). I peaked in high school when I played in a band, writing lyrics and tunes, harmonizing, and I grew in skill rapidly.

And then I graduated, and fell out of practice. In fact, it was probably 4 or 5 years that I barely even touched my guitars. I play again now, but I feel like I’m more or less the same skill level.

I also used to be a really good writer. I don’t say that from a necessarily egotistical point of view, either. I have loved reading and writing for as long as I can remember (which for the most part, is about the 3rd grade). If we were assigned to write a 3-page story, I would turn in 10. In our reading hours (Yes, we used to have those — an hour dedicated to reading silently), I read books on Napoleon and other historical figures, as well as fantasy and science fiction. I was truly passionate about reading, and I loved to write. I think maybe my wild imagination as a child could only ever be truly realized when I wrote it out. Hell, I would even act out the things I was writing. Sword fights? Check. Flying? Double check. Dying and coming to life in the classic “Oh no, the hero is dying, but wait he actually isn’t!” way? Triple check. In my bedroom, in the living room (when nobody was home, of course), even in the bathtub. My life was another world, and I loved it. My dreams and my imagination existed on the same plane, it seemed.

But I digress. The thing is, again, as I got into high school and busy with work, and computers, and everything else, my writing changed shapes. Instead of fantasy stories I wrote songs. Awful songs, mind you. I believe the first one was called “Might and Magic” (after the video game series from the 90’s), and the chorus was basically “M-m-m-might and magic, yeah”. Not encouraging, I’ll admit. But I grew from that.

In the 8th grade I wrote a survival journal for a final project (Our assignment was a survival journal) that earned me an award, a comment on  report card saying “I hope you try to get published one day” (not verbatim, by the way — this was 12+ years ago), and a general sense of pride and accomplishment. Perhaps the only downside here was I was so shy, I didn’t know how to even take a compliment other than turn red.

But as high school carried on, I changed my style more to poetry. I really grew as a lyricist, and as a poet, I think. I joined something called the Songwriter’s guild, and online community, and made some good friends who helped motivate me, as well as criticizing me when I needed it, and praising me when I did well. I searched for my old works on there recently, but came up empty-handed. I would love to look back and follow my own growth.

But then, as is the theme here, I graduated, and fell out of practising. I even stopped reading books. I read shorter articles on the internet, about health and such. I went to college, where I quickly became bored of my classes in Pre Health Science and didn’t even bother to graduate.


To let you in on a secret, when I began this article, I meant to make it short. As well, my own opinion of myself was that I didn’t commit to things. I would do something, show promise in it, and then abandon it. I even do this in my own career. My regional manager constantly tells me how much potential I have, and how quickly I learn and retain information, but I just have no drive anymore, despite wanting to do better.

But I think, now after writing this and reflecting, that I just have found things I enjoy, but am not passionate about. That all these creative things I did were just outlets – me trying to figure out who I was and what I was about – and that at the end of the day, I like to be creative.

I started dating someone recently, who I feel so comfortable with, I have started acting like my old little kid self again. I picture this and that, and act out these scenes from the comfort of my own home (Because at 27 years old, despite getting over being shy, I am still too old to do this in public).


So I will conclude with this: My name is Scott, and I am soul-searching. Why make a blog, though, instead of a personal journal? Maybe a bit of a sense that someone else will read this and connect, or find something similar, and maybe a little bit so that one day in the future, someone might stumble by and give a “good luck” or “keep it up”, which might be just what I need to keep going. Let’s consider this blog a public writing practice.

My intent is to partake in some writing challenges, share my own thoughts on different subjects, and just generally be heard.