My sins covered by the blood of Jesus, only highlighted by the darkness can they be seen to HimI love You
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Birthday: 1/20/1984
Gender: Male


Interests: building junk, wrecking junk, making new stuff into junk, making old junk into new junk, hot rods, choppers, muscle cars, body shop, peircings, tattoos, spiky colour hair (that I wish I had...but alas...do not...) movies, music....(Demon Hunter, Showbread, Underoath, ZAO, Living Sacrifice, Reliant K, Slick Shoes, MxPx, FIF, O.C. Supertones, Roper) and many more!!!!!!
Expertise: cabinetry, metalurgy(armour), forging(the heat shaping process done to metal) lathe, CNC, CAD, draft, design, marketing, welding(ARC, oxy acetylene, TIG, MIG), sheet metal,
Occupation: Manufacturing/production
Industry: Engineering


Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
MSN: waremoose@hotmail.com


Member Since: 5/19/2004

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Tuesday, August 05, 2008

I found my immunization records today. I am very glad to know that they are VERY up to date. By up to date, I mean...let's see here, ah, last updated...Feb. 1989.

It got me thinking you know. I AM up to date on my vaccines...well all but my Tetanus..but I don't plan on ramming any dirty, rusty 4 inch nail through any part of me any time soon, and you have like....6 hours to get the shot...yeah we're good.

But do you remember back...way back in high school when the nurses from the local clinic and give you your hep."A" and "B" vaccines? At the time your only concern was, "man is this gonna hurt?" or "Look tough chicks are watching." And then the sad realization that they aren't looking at you until you "try" to look tough and a sudden veil of failure is lifted from your eyes and you just know...it's not going well. You see people coming out of the (for us it was in the library BASEMENT) in some small index or catalogue room and this was RIGHT after the Columbine shootings happened. The only thing I remember from the whole thing was that there was a couple of shootings that occurred in the BASEMENT of the LIBRARY.

Now I must admit that I'm not the most likely person to sort this kind of stuff out too logically, I have a creative mind that thinks things like..."this would be the time someone REALLY doesn't want their shot in the arm and might be ready to unleash a fury." or "With my luck the needle will be dull by the time I get there." 

Yes there was a lineup, a long one. And yes, you counted how many people there was before you in line.

But now, looking back, I think, "man alive! How can they bring NEEDLES to a PUBLIC school and STAB people calling it SANITARY?!?"

There's a part in the movie "V For Vendetta" where the nurse is shooting some viral chemical into these "reject people and patients" scum of the earth as it were. And she basically exclaims something to the effect that after a while the patients cease to be people, they don't look her in the face anymore. And it reminds me...of the slow moving, well patrolled aisle of people moving to their doom for their shots.

Now....my solution to this is... (I was by no means a weak person in high school. I held the school record for most weight on the squat machine, I was fullback and running back and on the line for football and so on and so on)....to come out of the room nearly crying (I had eight piercings at this point so needles aren't really a big deal).


High school was weird.

Take for example some of my friends. Now we weren't bad students by any account. We weren't fantastic or gold star, but generally good people. The principal was fed up with garbage in the halls, and was on a rampage to kick kids outside into the cold or even suspend them for eating in the halls. Now, we would sit in the halls EVERY lunch and eat. We wouldn't leave a mess, we were respectful but a little rambunctious. I actually felt bad for her a couple of times when she tried to kick us out and a couple of teachers stood up for us completely deflating her of her self-imposed authority. It got so bad after a while that if there was a school-wide rule it "almost" didn't apply to us.  No hats. Nobody was allowed to wear hats in school. Ever. One day she walks up to me and TAKES my hat. So....I escort her into HER office and begin a rant that basically went like this; "How dare you take a piece of my property! By removing my cap while it was on my head without warning is cause for a case of assault. You came within my personal space and took my property and have yet to apologize for it. What would you say or do if I took your brooch off your blouse? I suspect I would be leaving the school premises. But you have detained my hat and for all you know made me loathe authority even more. You have no clue what that hat means to me. In an environment where everything is changing a lot of things are new you take the ONE thing that is consistent to me. The one thing that makes me feet comfortable, my hat. It's like a security blanket and you took it to uphold some stodgy rule you made to make YOU feel more comfortable, like the environment YOU grew up in. Times have changed and I expect an apology. **she did** Have a good day and never touch me or my property again."

There isn't any exaggerating in there. That was said. After that she never once approached any of our group for anything.  Not even when my friend duct-taped his shoe to the ceiling. Not even when we formed a "toll hallway" forcing students to pay 10 cents to pass..it was a lucrative business that paid for 3 FULL lunches that day. She paid me 30 cents because I offered her a deal...she had to pass multiple times that lunch hour. I merely claimed that we testing my friends stool that he made in wood shop....which was no lie...he did just finish it, and I was testing it's sturdiness.

Oh well.


Tuesday, February 26, 2008

How in the hell do you use this new format?

ok.

For those wishing for an update:

From me who will never create a family newsletter and send it out. Ever.

Meredith and I have become somewhat nomadic in nature. No, we're not living in the trees on shrooms and roots. We move, or have moved, a lot. We left TO about a year ago...ish to a small town called Uxbridge. Nothing against them, as small towns usually function this way, but by the time I got home from Markham after work, there was only a handful of stores left open.

1.Walmart
2. Canadian Tire
3. Mac's
4. Shopper's D-Mart
5. The theater (Roxy)

This is typical of small towns I guess but was depressing coming from a town that ALMOST doesn't sleep, to a town heavy with narcolepsy. From there, we moved to Hamilton. Though as you've read the story over and over about Milton, Hamilton, where do we go..yada yada yada.

Brings us to now. You can read up on Mer on her site, and she's prolly updated you a LITTLE on me. So I might expand.

1. Took month off in Hammer (what we call Hamilton)
2. Found a job after searching for 3 days
3. Was fired for being too picky about my work after a week's time (long story, less than credible place)
4. Was hired by Carstar after 2 - 3 weeks of downtime
5. Switched from Carstar to Mountain Auto because I was only detailing at Carstar and I don't work well beside crack heads....real partially alive crack heads.

Work goes well. Keeps me busy enough I'm sure. Leading youth worship. I play guitar now, not overly well, but I'm learning at a near ridiculous rate so I've been told. Which is a good thing considering the position. And that's me up to date.

No kids, don't ask if there are, if there will be, if you want us to have some, just wait. If we're having kids, you'll know. Never ask. Ever.

You think it's a bad way to close an update, I say it's a bad way to be greeted by every relative you've ever had every time they see you for the past coming up on two years (only MODERATELY joking on this one sadly)

Anyways, I guess I might start posting more. Sounds like it could be good to get some monkey crap off my back so I can deal with the monkey directly.


Wednesday, August 08, 2007

dusting off the cobwebs.....

....posts kinda get stuck in em' sometimes..


Wednesday, April 11, 2007

I was thinking today just how skewed our perspective of people really is. I was thinking of an instance of climbing a tower in Italy, and looking down, and all the people looked so tiny, or on the plane, where you could just barely tell there was life left down there. I compared it to how I treat people, and to be honest, I have to say I treat people like I am still flying high, or at the top of the tower. Not in a "holier than thou" way or "I'm better than you" for the layman.

But, more realistically, in the way that I relate to people, especially as of late,  it seems like I can't reach people, and when I try it seems a little absurd, the porthole glass window is too thick, I'm too high up, and anyone who does hear will not hear clearly any message I try to convey.

What's worse, I (along with almost every other Torontonian) walk by people on the street like they are unreachable, too far, circumstances don't allow for it etc. If I pass someone who is homeless and has obvious needs, there's the glass...the words I mutter "I'm sorry I don't have cash" ...too high up, they'll miss what I mean for what I say.

The very saddest part of all this, is I know this is not what Christ would have done, not the attitude He would have had. If there were barriers in His way, He removed them, or used them to His advantage. He was never high enough, never had to look through a porthole 30000km up and determine that those little things down there needed Him or not.

He knew.

He acted.

Aye, there's the rub. He acted, something we do better than anyone else. Or maybe it's just me. Acting.

Not in the same way though.

Pretending.

What more, though my body pretends I know my heart doesn't, and that is the scorecard in the end. But it is hard to be effective in anything including your ministry, if your head has you convinced that there is some "otherness" to you, and it is in the way of you reaching those who are assimilated....

Join us.


Monday, March 19, 2007

how many germans does it take to change a lightbulb?

NINE!!!



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