In between running our student housing business as a junior landlord of sorts and my regular job as tech support for senior citizens, I find that I’ve been lacking that creative mojo recently. Add to that the fact that I’m still feeling the effects of being rejected by she-who-shall-not-be-named eight months after the fact (my, how restraining-orderiffic) and there you have the reason why, as of late, I always look like I’ve been kicked in the Tiny Tims.

Strange, then, that I feel quite alive at the moment in spite of myself. So what’s the deal, here? Answer: I’ve just rediscovered people-watching. Which may sound creepy coming from me, but it’s a perfectly legal pastime for people who fancy themselves quite the cosmopolitans.

I take a stroll down Robson Street nowadays to take the train home from work, and I find that there’s almost always something happening in front of the Vancouver Art Gallery: rallies, breakdancing contests, street magicians, and hordes of cute Korean tourist girls wearing ultraminiskirts and wielding digital cameras. Very cool. I even took a picture of this bunch who seemed to be doing some fancy capoeira. It’s like walking into a Sérgio Mendes music video (just add the Black Eyed Peas and we’re there). Woo-hoo!

And while my terrible off-center photography isn’t doing these spectacles much justice, the point is that moments like these make you feel that whether you’re a rallyist, a breakdancer, a beggar, a fire-eater, a girl with a fancy broadcast camera, or even a lazy, socially-awkward, wannabe artist, you’re still a part of this living, breathing world. </cheesy_Jerry_Springer-esque_Final_Thought_monologue>

You can probably tell that I’ve been playing too much of The World Ends With You. It seems I’ve started drawing parallels between downtown Vancouver and Shibuya. Well, whatever! Let zemzelett bask in this fleeting moment of euphoria until ennui and the dread of living sink back in. Until next time, take care of yourselves and each other.

And like that grotesquely giant zit that you thought went away for good only to have pop back right before school photo day, I’m back! Having regained use of the Internet after many weeks of tedious breakback work (hauling furniture, doing haphazard tech support and such), zemzelett is here once again to give his nonexistent audience a piece of his mind. Hooray!

…But sadly, nothing much is on zem’s mind right now. Nothing that you deserve to hear, in any case. If you’d be so kind as to stick around for some good news, then maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Meanwhile, let me distract you with this photo taken from my workplace while I come up with the next chapter of my comic masterpiece that nobody gives a crap about… yet.

As a side note, the fact that I see this scenery every time I go to work is the only thing that keeps the dream alive. And by dream, I mean the prospect of not being doomed to work in some cannery in the seediest part of Surrey to support a hypothetical wife and 2.5 kids. But I’ll bore you another time.

Right. So apparently, even a year’s worth of intensive experience on the phones couldn’t mold this luddite into a competent tech support representative. Oh, sure, people console you saying, “Relax, it’s your first day, you’ll get better in a week,” but alas, they’re nothing but sweet, sweet words. I appreciate the vote of confidence, guys, but seriously. We all know I suck at the job. I swear I’m gonna get terminated faster than one can screw a coaxial cable into a monkey’s nostril. (That’s where you’re supposed to screw them in, right?… No? Damn!) Oh, Lordy Lordy Lord. It’s one of those rare instances where I’d rather not be the one saying “I told you so.” Seriously, though, I’m really broken up over this.

On to important matters! I found this science article about orchids shaped like female wasps to help them pollinate. What happens is that male wasps end up “doing the do” with these flowers and help them scatter the pollen as a result. Those poor male wasps!

Imagine if that sort of thing were to happen to humans. Some guy would be walking down the street when he suddenly comes across a cactus shaped like Steph Song, who then offers to ”do the do” with him right then and there. Another guy walks by, sees the first guy and says, “Dude, what are you doing?! You’re humping a cactus!” And then the first guy would go, “…oh. Well that explains these needles on my crotch.” Most unpleasant, I kid you not.

Tasteless analogy aside, that was an amusing diversion… Almost made me forget I screwed up at work. And with things the way they are, I’ll probably take my chances with the cactus. Sigh.

Gasp. Finally found a job after six–no wait, seven–months of bumming around. And just when I thought I was going to atrophy into nothing after being such a useless lump for so long… So to celebrate, let us watch this, the coolest opening theme in the history of ever (if the embedding works)!

Now I don’t usually praise my good fortune for fear of jinxing myself, but far be it from me to be ungrateful to the good Lord, no sir. Good pay, full benefits even for part-timers, and a great view of the Vancouver waterfront–and best of all, a hipster lifestyle that’s way too good for a third-world country hick like me. Most ironic, though, is the fact that I’m back working in tech support. I don’t get it. I’m a guy whose idea of tech support is swearing at the computer, and yet somehow keep reeling in this type of job. Destiny? I would hope not, for the sake of the millions of cable subscribers in Western Canada… but anyway.

It’s a great feeling to get the ol’ heart pumping with some honest, good, old-fashioned work again. Gives a man a feeling of self-worth, see? Look at me! I’m a young, upwardly mobile, urban professional! Movin’ my way up the big leagues, bizzoy! But I keep hoping this isn’t just some evil genie scenario where I wish for honest, good, old-fashioned work–and then end up neck-deep in it. And then get fired afterwards. But like I said, far be it from me to be ungrateful. Let zem enjoy the feeling of euphoria while it lasts. Ahhh.

And while we’re on the subject of movin’, we just moved to a community in the Vancouver city proper (which seems to have a fair populace of Filipinos for some reason). Now I can actually tell my friends “I live in Vancouver” plain and simple, instead of in a roundabout way like “I live somewhere in the outskirts of Vancouver/Lower Mainland/Greater Vancouver Area.” Oh, and I am completely exhausted from hauling furniture. During the weekday, at that. I mean, damn. Sooo tired. To make love to the night, in sweet, harmonious slumber…

And again, speaking of moving… moving on, that is, from a clearly hopeless infatuation with–well, let’s just say I clearly haven’t. And that is sad. Even sadder is the fact that nowadays, I believe she works in an office just across the river from my workplace. This can only mean bothersome thoughts of what life won’t give me every time I stare out the window from the 9th floor.

Are you a cool, rich, popular digital artiste (NOT artist) who believes that flashy keyboards are more important than trivial technological advances such as damage-proof CDs, self-filing tax forms and instant cancer cures? Presenting the Optimus Maximus keyboard, with 133 fully customizable OLED keys (which can be programmed individually to do different functions and even change the characters displayed on each key)… and a $1,600 price tag. Hubba hubba. Via the Wired website.

Cool? Yes. Decadent? Certainly. Evidence that technology is evolving much faster than human competence? Absolutely.

“…Visual artists, however, are sure to love it.” O RLY? Not me, because Lordy, it makes my blood boil. I want my damage-proof CDs, dammit! So what, does this mean I’m not fit to be an artist, now? Did a self-indulgent piece of techno-geek wankery just give me an existential dilemma? By gum, it sure did.

About time! It looks like they’re making a Scott Pilgrim movie (for reals!) after all. Apparently, they even have Michael Cera from Superbad lined up to play the title character and Edgar Wright (of Shaun of the Dead fame) as director. Truly a shiny golden thread of hope for aspiring Canadian graphic novelists such as myself, as we might one day be lucky enough to have our works adapted into full-length movies! A bit of a damper, though–apparently the author, Bryan Lee O’ Malley, is planning to defect to the United States, so he’s technically not going to be Canadian anymore by the time he’s raking in the dough. Also, I didn’t really dig Superbad. It seems as if throwing around copious amounts of completely pointless vulgarity every five seconds counts as “comedy” nowadays (kind of like what they did to shark-jump some of the later episodes of Family Guy. Damn you, Seth MacFarlane!). But I digress.

Scott Pilgrim is quite frankly, for those not in the know, the coolest thing ever since Nerf balls. It’s chock-full of clever pop culture references, fourth-wall breaking dialogue and sass that would put even Kim Possible to shame. (You can’t go wrong with quotable lines like “Scott, if your life had a face, I would punch it. I would punch your life in the face.”) The other thing to know about Scott Pilgrim is that it’s a fairly surreal story that shifts from mundane to outrageous and back without batting an eyelash. The characters react to outlandish situations in such a hilariously deadpan manner that no one would even dwell on the absurdity of gaining superpowers with a vegan diet, or how Amazon employees use subspace for making deliveries in Canada. The characters just shrug them off as if they were everyday occurrences–in other words, they have a healthy amount of suspension of disbelief, which you’re going to need plenty of once you start reading the book!

That said, I’m seeing a terribly disturbing trend nowadays. I don’t know if it’s just an increasing preference for reality-based entertainment over fiction at the moment, but people seem to be losing their ability to suspend disbelief. On the plus side, people are more skeptical and perceptive of the information they receive from the media. On the other hand, however, it’s as if people lost the ability to just turn off their brains and enjoy works of fiction without mulling too much on details like historical accuracy. This article I found demonstrates this newfound need of people to be historical nitpickers. (It’s obviously written for laughs, but it does capture the sentiment perfectly.) Why do people feel the need to criticize the historical inaccuracies in movies like 300 and 10,000 BC (which are clearly works of fiction and shouldn’t be taken too seriously fact-wise)? Seriously, you folks need to lighten up.

It gets exponentially stupid from here.  Here’s another article about how the writer of a children’s book was forced to edit out scenes of a dragon breathing fire because the publisher figured that kids would imitate the dragon and injure themselves. And I thought the story about kids “in danger” of imitating Cookie Monster eating a lit pipe was moronic!

Then again, more and more people (children and adults alike) seem to be compensating for their inability to suspend disbelief by confusing reality with fiction–with predictably disastrous results. An extreme example would be this tragic story about a boy who died recently after burying his head in a sandbox while trying to imitate Gaara from Naruto. I don’t know about the details–it’s possible that the kid had some sort of mental problem–but there is no justifiable way for the media to rightfully blame the show for causing this behavior in children (but knowing the media, they’d probably sensationalize this story anyway if there were a big enough audience). I used to think the disclaimers they showed on TV ads that show obviously impossible situations was excessive, but now… I dunno.

The inability to suspend disbelief is the death of imagination. So what’s to blame for this? The increase of reality shows due to the Writers’ Guild Strike? Poor nutrition that causes mental deficiencies in kids, perhaps? I say blame it on the rain and imagine for a minute that Milli Vanilli was in fact two black guys wearing bad ’80s fashion.

Yeesh! Since when did Rick Astley become just another Internet fad? I almost feel bad now when watching Rick Astley on YouTube because it feels like I’m riding along with that puerile Internet craze known as “rickrolling”. Almost. But hey, whatever–I’m an ’80s guy, and I’ll watch my Wham and my Debbie Gibson whenever the heck I feel like it!

I mentioned in an earlier article how the Internet drastically hastens the life-and-death cycle of new ideas, which is especially true when it comes to Internet fads. Remember the Chuck Norris fad (where all you do is mention Chuck Norris in a sentence for instant comedy gold)? If not, don’t be surprised, because it went quicker than it came. The Internet has a way of wearing out any brand-new joke in the blink of an eye, and within just a few months you’d see different versions of the same joke as if in an attempt to keep it fresh. (Variations include replacing Chuck Norris with Jesus or Dick Cheney. Personally, I prefer Richard Simmons.) Ah, the wonders of the information superhighway…

On a different note, do any of you ever notice how people from any given point in history think that music from 10 years ago is generally considered tacky and lame, while music from 20 years ago is considered a classic? I remember how people during the ’90s dismissed ’80s pop music as cheesy, while at the same time, disco was experiencing a revival. It’s still the same nowadays, except this time it’s the ’90s music that’s 10.0 on the tackymeter, and ’80s music is now considered retro-classic.

Also, did you notice how something generally considered underground loses its elitist status and perceived coolness factor whenever it becomes mainstream? (Not that listening to Rick Astley was cool to begin with, but anyway.) I can think of many examples right off the bat: Evangelion, Ninja Turtles, Final Fantasy… but maybe I’ll save this for the next article. Meanwhile, let’s groove to the tubular sounds of the ’80s! It’s totally radical!

Never gonna give “yu” up, either, if you catch my drift. (I kid, I kid. o_o; )

I was getting sick of being so down and depressed all the time, so I decided to indulge in something I don’t normally watch when people are around. (Nope, it’s not porn… although that’s not a bad idea either.) Why not use a good chunk of your company’s bandwidth and watch this following YouTube video, and possibly cheer yourselves up too? (Oh, and just a warning: as is typically the case with YouTube videos, the compression here is a tad wonky, so the audio is a bit off-sync with the video. Also, I didn’t upload this myself, just so you know.)

Did it work? Assuming that you spared a mere two minutes of your precious time to watch the video above (and assuming that the encoding worked, and that the video is still up on YouTube), I just wanted to show you folks that I haven’t completely lost my faith in humanity yet! Isn’t that great? What better proof to show that one still has an attachment to life than with a super peppy happy J-pop TV promotional ad? Nothing, that’s what.

By the way, that was Aya Hirano with “Bouken Desho? Desho?” (“It’s An Adventure, Right? Right?”), which was used as the opening theme for the show The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. Which, as many people know, is a show that is usually watched only by the geekiest of otaku, with their creepy fetishes and bottles of Ramune. (I’d prefer not to be associated with otaku, but I’m no cooler than they are, and I’m not one to judge my fellow geeks.) But if you look past the stigma that comes with a fanbase of social pariahs, you’d find the show itself to be surprisingly good. Aside from the high-concept sci-fi elements and numerous references, the episodes are presented in such a non-linear fashion that it plays almost like a mystery thriller in the same style as Memento (and if you’ve ever watched Memento, you know movies can’t get any better than that)! Sadly, the rest of the audience most probably watches the show for the sole reason of ogling Mikuru’s bouncing juggies.

In other news, life is slowly starting to get back on track, as evidenced by the subtle (read: unnoticeable) decrease in the bitter tone of my writing. Hooray! Doesn’t change the fact that there’s still a void left by unresolved heartbreak (gag me with a spoon why don’tcha?), and that zem’s reputation is still stained with malicious rumors, but whatever! So I don’t have the world on a string, sitting on a rainbow. I say let those mooks from BCIT think what they want. Meanwhile, back to Job Hunting, Comic Book Writing (visit Atelier Zemzelett, my good fellows!), and Finding A Way To Patch Things Up With Why-You-Em-Eye. Ahem.

Taken directly from an article I wrote on my DeviantArt site:

je.suis.misère 

Misery loves company. But as someone kindly pointed out for me, nobody loves misery. Which is why it’s hilariously ironic that I would come across this article defending the upside of melancholy at a time when I’m damn well ready to kill myself by engaging in a Teletubbies marathon in a closed theater with surround sound. The timing is so comically appropriate that I almost chuckled.

According to the article, there is a link between depression and artistic creation, and that “sometimes there’s a great price to be paid for great works or beauty, for truth.” And it goes on to say that someone in my position is destined to follow in the footsteps of great artists such as Van Gogh, Virginia Woolf, and Ernest Hemingway… which would be great if it weren’t for the fact that they all committed suicide. Oh, joy!

The other option is to go through the motions of living as a disgustingly neurotic, pathetic excuse for a man who supposedly has artistic genius that nobody appreciates. So if my only other path in life is to be the second coming of Woody Allen, then just cut off my ear and call me Vincent.

As I mentioned sometime ago, I was the target of some very unsavory rumors back when I was still in BCIT’s New Media program. Long story short, every one of my New Media peers thinks I’m some sort of creep, and a girl that I merely asked out for lunch is now shunning me as if I had leprosy. This entails two things: I’ll never work in this town again, and I’ll forever be an unpleasant memory for that girl and her broadcast camera. Playing the role of villain again… Where will life take you now, zemzelett?

Here’s a question that’s been asked many times over by other idiots before me, but I’d like you to answer me this: If you know that someone else somewhere in the world is having problems worse than you, does it make your problems any less valid?

Like if you were having problems with money, or friends and family, or love, and you are aware that some child in Somalia is at this very moment dying of starvation, does that mean that you have no right to be complaining about your own problems? Are you supposed to be happy–God forbid–if your problems appear trivial when compared to the misfortune of said child? Even though self-pity exceeds the boundaries of good taste, are you supposed to just ignore that your problems exist just because someone is worse off than you are?

Is it even material to compare two very different sets of problems in very different circumstances altogether? Does personal perspective count in these situations? Like if someone with a terminal disease is at peace with himself and the people around him, would you still consider him less fortunate than a completely healthy person who hates his life because everyone dislikes him? Does it even matter what people think about your problems?

Does anyone still feel a moral dilemma with Schadenfreude anymore? More importantly, do people even care to think about each other’s problems at all in the first place? Why can’t I just recreate the world in my image out of pure will?