Economic Development

I’m writing an essay on Women & the economy, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it is directly related with my current feeling of overwhelming hopelessness. I know nothing of women; let alone women in the economy. I would be just as well-if not better suited to write about how amoebas affect the stock exchange of oil in Tanzania.

Damn my econ prof and her redundant and inflexible essay question. ( I guess it’s not so redundant as I’ve proved with my lack of knowledge, but meh)

This is where my 95% on my first midterm will be reduced to a more average average, while simultaneously allowing the struggling sociology majors a chance to boost their average to something that will allow them to do nothing with their degrees.

Anyway as I said I’m writing an essay and thus felt the need to update this deteriorating site.

I’ve effectively stopped drinking and writing, which has reduced the updates dramatically, and as you can see the quality hasn’t increased by much either. My excuse is that I’m working all the time, which sucks. The place is trying to force me into a position that I will either quit or fail out of university and work there full time until I kill myself; which (for those that are curious) would be exactly 2 weeks after dropping out of university.

The people kinda drive me nuts, while everyone is more or less friendly, my age group and etcetera they just really aren’t my clique.

Conversation are relentless unoriginal.

“How are you doin?”
“Good”

You will be categorized as an asshole if you don’t respond with “you?” so that you can hear the parroted response that you gave them a minute ago. Why?

Cause we’re Canadian and friendly I guess, and it’s the only way to meet people. The problem however, is that: I don’t want to meet people.

I was talking to Joel and he asked how is that I don’t hate working as much as he does, and other than me not being a complete emo-drama-myspace kid, is that I don’t have to work with other emo-myspace-drama 16 yearolds. And really, all 16 yearolds are like that. Retarded.

And as soon as I said that I realized I was incorrect. Albeit the people I work with are between 18-24 years of age, they really aren’t in any way different or more mature than the 16 yearolds.

They are still retarded.

When they aren’t talking about work or how often they work, or when they work next, or whether or not they should call in work sick tomorrow cause they are moderately feeling sick but in reality they just don’t want to work because then they could change the subject other than work, but in reality work is the only thing they ever have to talk about in their dull work filled lives.

So yeah I am the king of exaggerating generalizations sometimes there are other subjects people at work talk about other than work, such as: going out drinking… with people from work. Or who hooked up with who from work, or which dating circle is who currently involved in with emphasis on which direction the circle is rotating clockwise or counter clockwise ( this information is imperative because people from work want to know when their turn in the dating circle will arrive ( probably so that they can plan on fake baking and waxing themselves in preparation, nothing is worse than being caught offguard))

Anyway, I think the biggest problem with these people is they don’t relaize how juvenile and trivial these conversations really are. I’d hate myself as a person if I engaged in a conversation like this. In fact I already hate myself as a person so the question really is why don’t I engage in conversations that would make myself hate myself as a person since I already hate myself as a person?

The answer is:

I’m constantly changing. Every year I look back on all the stupid things I’ve done and try to change, and I look back thinking how much more mature, experienced and more intelligent that I am this year than the year before. In fact I’m the most intelligent I’ve ever been and next year I’ll be even more intelligent mature, jaded, and etcetera than I was before. Even reading posts from when I first began writing on this site to now, there is an obvious change. The style as of now, is not as faked in the attempts to be funny, the style is more mature and everything about it-apart from the lack of updates and the lack of humour overall, is better.

Every day is another day of self-reflection or self-analysis.

It is a continuous process.

However, I feel that my co workers along with 98% of the people I hate lack this drive for development. The plot has stagnated at the age of 16, and there are absolutely no signs that there will ever be a point to the conflict at hand, it will never progress and there is nothing more to learn.

Likewise trivial conversations will perpetuate until the end of time with absolutely no sign that they will ever end.

Of course I’m being both too critical and hypocritical,

but this is more or less what separates my friends from acquaintances.

Mola Ram is from Indiana Jones, for those that are uninformed

Fuck you this is my home

Lately I’ve been feeling like I’ve signed up for something way above my intelligence quotient. I have a midterm approaching this Friday and I feel like I know nothing… or that there is too much to comprehend in such a short period of time. And the previous assignments are incapable of demonstrating how unprepared I am for this test.

I feel like the statistical analysis involved in economics is overwhelming. There are so many unaccounted variables…

I went to an economic symposium today. It was interesting, today’s topic was on developing economies, there was some very interesting theories and some very half baked theories, but who am I to judge? I’m the guy who is going to fail his simple econometrics midterm on Friday…

In effect, it was an interesting series of lectures, and I’d be willing to talk about any of them any time if anyone is interested, but I won’t bore you with it. Or waste my time typing it out.


I’m pretty sure I’m failing psych 110

I just hate that class… the neufelds are in that class. I hate that class.

I hate anyone that tell me saskatoon sucks while looking from some sort of agreement. It’s not that I would live in Saskatoon or that I plan on growing old here with my white picket fence. But it’s the principle. I love this place… I of course, like everyone, had to get over my rebellious contempt for my home, which spawned from years of living here. Saskatoon is a beautiful city, and a lot of people whoa re not from saskatoon would concur.

There is a new girl at work who has her mixology course and is convinced she knows everything (nothing) about bartending. She hates saskatoon. And she stated that she consciously chose not to get a job anywhere in saskatoon because she thinks every bar here is brutal and everything about here sucks (not that a mixology course really gave that dumb bitch the option of working anywhere)… and she wasn’t nearly hot enough for me to pretend that I agreed with her…

And while she has been here her entire 23 years, she is too ridiculous to understand that saskatoon isn’t just the hillbilly infested dragon hat wearing holding pen it has been stereotyped as being. Because what she doesn’t know is that:

Calgary is where we unload them from the holding pen.

Anyway when I worked on that movie 4 years ago I was standing with my friend nathan and as we were talking Sirish interrupted and (Sirish was a director from bollywood, who had been reduced to a 2nd assistant director in canada) said that he loves this place.

Nathan turned to him and said “really? No sarcasm?”

Sirish “No man I love this place. Why?”

Nathan “well most people say this place is a shit hole”

Sirish “ Nathan let me tell you something if someone comes here and tells you that saskatoon sucks you say: “fuck you this is my home man.” Okay?”

So fuck you this is my home… man.

back to work.

Well i'm working again, which really won't mean anything more than more $$ so i can support my going to school and a growing wine and maragarita addiction... and everyone else's wine & margarita addiction that i'm trying to nuture.

I’ve been working at the Delta Bez the last couple of days. It’s kinda cool, it reminds me of “Down and Out in Paris and London” possibly the only book by Orwell that I still think is a decent piece of literature. Anyway the complexity of working in a hotel is hilariously awesome, I have close to 80 bosses and I’m just a banquet bartender! Everyone is doing their own thing at any given time; servers are polishing silverware, cooks are cooking, bell boys are coughing for money, and everyone is running around worrying about their own individual responsibilities which are often completely independent of your own. independent because there is usually 4-12 functions going down simultaneously. It’s kinda chaotic, but rest assured as always the protagonist of this story (me) has it pretty easy as a bartender. There is a plethora of work to be done by every one else other than me, although that may change as soon as I can figure out what floor I’m on- let alone what extra help I can be doing.

My first shift I was bartending the 4^th and final day of the international karate championship. And it was international, there were guys from Switzerland, Greece, Sweden, Japan, South Korea, England, the States, and probably more people that I never saw (there was 300 people) anyway, a lot of people spoke no English or very limited English, which made it rather frustrating for both of us. One woman was looking for chopsticks and took the straws out of a glass to show me what she was looking for, I told her I’d have a server bring them, and she got super pissed at me because she thought I was saying that there are some back there, but I was trying to show that someone was coming there. Needless to say I was lucky her huge swiss boyfriend didn’t judo chop my head off. However, her swiss boyfriend was ready to chop the head off of the banquet manager.

The banquet manager who is about 5’6 or so had a problem. The problem was that the entire swiss team had brought 4 bottles of Jack Daniels and 3 cases of redbull, which went against our liquor licensing, and so obviously needed to be removed from the banquet hall. However, they spoke no English, it is hard enough to explain to people in ENGLISH why they can’t bring their own alcohol to a function let alone without the use of language. So eventually after arguing with these guys who were 6’1 and broad shouldered my manager (1 of 80) took the bottles of JD in his arms and tried to motion that they needed to take the bottles back tot heir room. Instead the swiss karate participants grabbed my manager by the scruff of his collar and were preparing to pummel him. My manger decided that it was worth losing his face over so he let it go and called security (who wasn’t much bigger than he was) to deal with it.

Yeah so anyway that basically wraps it up, because I have nothing really interesting to say, but I wanted to post something so that when I do have something to say I still have my 3 devout readers.

I did post something on Friday night, but I have finally come to the conclusion that drinking + doing just about anything other than more drinking really doesn’t mix. Maybe drinking while watching movies or playing video games mix. But drinking and writing is just a time bomb waiting to happen.