The In and Outs of Working in a Call Centre: Part 2

Who knew the fuckers could read! Somehow the bastards managed to find my blog without drooling all over the keyboards. I woke up today after a week/weekend (that would turn any ones blood to stone)to a letter written by an unnameable employee working for Davis and Henderson. It has been over a month since Ive slaved for Davis and Henderson and man can I ever say I'm thrilled about that. Ive been working downtown Ottawa at a new job, Ive had some hardships here and there but realistically these things are to be expected with switching from job to job.
I woke up and got ready to do some laundry. Thought I'd check the mail and see if there was anything worth while in it (usually there is not) when I came across the letter...
"After an 'extensive' investigation we have found that your performance with Davis and Henderson has been completely unacceptable." I pictured a pale white, veiny, old hag, cooped up in an office and dying of lung cancer. Scribbling madly about an extensive investigation that even if one had taken place she would have in no way been part of anyways. She is the letter mule. She who must cough up tar and use it as ink to spread her ego out on paper.
"On many occasions your Team Leader had made an effort to assist you in improvement." This of course MUST have been witnessed first hand because the sheer and utter truth of that statement could bring one to tears.
"We are also in possession of your personal 'blog' in which you admit to lying about an "at work accident" (I am guessing the quotations must have come from my 'personal blog') and taking taxi money from the Company that was to be used to have your 'alleged' hand injury checked at the hospital and then to take you home."
This is where I as a human as opposed to an employee get a little skeptical. First things first: How in the flying Christ did these people get access or ahold of my blog? Clearly either a supposed friend of mine or acquaintance at Davis and Henderson must have sold me out or blabbed their never silenced mouths off to the wrong people. Fucking eerie thought. The second thing that makes me extremely skeptical is the amount of truth that they have enforced upon my blogs story. My blog is FILLED with poetry, opinion pieces, stories of dreams, and anything I feel like jotting down off of the top of my head. Who are they to say that my article is pure truth. Could I not have just fabricated sections of my story to make myself sound a little more rebellious and adventurous? At what point does Art hold one in contempt? Who is to rule an artists perspective of fact over fiction?
The letter mule. Sits in her office, smokes all day, and watches the news. She believes every word she hears and certainly everything she See's. She is distracted. Her eyes are plagued by anything shiny. She drools, slops food in her mouth, and sleeps sitting up. She is the letter mule and she is worse off than I.

Teach Yourself to Dream

Nothing in this world is easy. This is a lesson that is learned through a constant progression towards some ultimate goal in life that we all call our own. At times it is hardly understandable and I have fallen victim to its fashions on multiple occasions. Whether it be some odd form of bad luck tossed into the barrel or a stubbed toe in the morning these situations will come at you in full force and will take effect at the worst possible times. It is like some form of higher being has decided to split the sky open to peer down on you, poking you with a celestial finger, prying you into different paths like a kid kicking around an ant on a sidewalk. Sometimes they will come on strong and for extended periods of time.

You wake up in the morning for work. News from the night before had dragged you down into a deep dark visceral state of mind and nothing about the day feels good. You take a shower hoping that things may look up as you repeat in your head every situation possible that could go wrong or right during the day. You imagine different possible conversations you will be having throughout your work day with the people you must see and the people you know you want to avoid. You may not even want to speak at all. You stare at your bed as if it were subliminally forcing you to jump back in. It laughs at you. Now the work day is the only vice calling out your name aside from the time on the clock of course. You know the bus ride like the taste of stale coffee. It will take a maximum of 30 minutes if you are lucky. Work begins at 8:00am and the clock read 7:35am... The forces keep pushing.

All bundled in a scarf, hat, and coat to bare the harshness of the winter outside you leave your apartment or home to wait for the bus and of course, it comes 5 minutes late. Destiny has run its course on you. You know you are late for work. On the bus you think of nothing but escaping, running to somewhere far from all of this routine. The flames that have been riding your back for the past few days have almost become noticeable to the public eye and finally you show up to work.

Your day has been sized up. 2 breaks, 1 Lunch, and a couple of periods with nothing to do in between work. Your friends or acquaintances positioned all around you but not even they can help you today. They know your having a bad day. You have decided to plaster it all over your face. A form of self defence shield against anything else that may go wrong during the process of the day. They know it and so do you.

One approaches you. He is one of your best friends and you have known him for a long period of time. This man has seen you through thick and thin, at your worst and greatest. He approaches you with a smile, does not even ask you what is wrong, and because of this you already feel a bit better. Now the rest of your day runs smooth and uninterrupted. You finish the day of work, bus back home and fall asleep knowing that the next day couldn't be near as bad as the last. You shut your eyes and dream.

Its the act of peering over the fence that we all need to partake in little bit more or maybe just forgetting about the fence altogether. You may be having a bad day or it may have been a complete disaster but who really wants to spend life moping around every day? Negativity is a product of the mind. The grass is always greener on the other side and roses always feel brighter after a rainfall. Remember there is always something to spread a smile over.

The Ins and Outs of Working in a Call Center

I sat on the can and lit a cigarette at 11:00pm. It had been a long day. A day of transition. I had been working for a company called Davis and Henderson in the Bells Corners region of Ottawa west for the last year and a half. I thought about the first day I had started working for the company. Back then it had used to be called Resolve. A massive call center compared to anything my past had known. I never really thought I would be working there as long as I did but the day I started was a different time. It was sometime around the beginning of August 2009. I was living with two friends in a residential college area known to the locals of Ottawa as Deerfield. It was a dumpy little place but we didn't pay much for rent. I had not had a job for far too long. I had no money for food, or liquor, or anything really and my roommates were certainly bringing it down upon my head. I payed rent and what I could scrounge up for food contribution. Finally I followed my buddy Shamus into Resolve for an interview. I was hired practically that day and I felt like a king. I thought the place would be able to offer me something other than just pay and job security. I was looking to move up. I wanted to make enough money to be able to live comfortably while giving me just enough time to work on my music and my writing.
One thing I have never really come to terms with learning is that a dream is seldom granted to those who seek it. I am stubborn that way. This is something the youth of the 2000's may have to understand sooner than they think but I got the job and Shamus got the job. I walked around for the rest of the year with stars in my eyes. It wasn't until Shamus had quit and about 6 months into the shit that I had finally begun to realize I was being leashed and whipped. I worked my ass off for the company receiving foolish laminated rewards for customer commendations and getting perfect quality scores on every call that I took. For about 3 - 4 months I was even a designated floor supervisor until the emotional strife ensued. I worked under a woman who was my supervisor and for the sake of not revealing to much of her identity Ill label her as Tammy. Tammy was a short, in your face, blond who took her call center supervisor career more seriously than anyone would contemplate finding a million dollars sitting on the ground on their way home. Tammy was a cold hearted, astro cunt. She had it in for Shamus and I since the moment we were hired (she was also in the same "training" class as us). Shamus and I used to write songs and play guitar on our breaks until Tammy had decided that one day she would speak to an Ops manager about our music playing during breaks and lunch deeming it an "Inappropriate workplace activity" and this greatly concerned that cold ice chunk floating in her chest.
To get back onto topic here... The six months of working with this woman had turned me completely sideways. She had tried the entire 3-4 months that I was actually working as a floor supervisor to get me pulled off at any chance she could get and finally succeeded in doing so during the 4Th. I spoke to her boss about the situation. He was a man that was so nervous at the sheer thought of any kind of confrontation that he would have to let out a giggle at the end of every sentence he spoke. He tried his hardest to be friends with every one of his employee's and this included pleasing the likes of Tammy to solidify what he thought was a "Stable work environment."
I was relieved of being able to supervise the floor even if that meant giving the position to someone who knew less than half of what I did about the programs and resolutions. If they were going to fuck me like that I sure as hell wasn't about to take it like a bitch. I started slacking off. My quality scores dropped, I tore down my awards and I certainly did not give a fuck. They tried to use the Floor Supervisor role as an incentive for me trying to do better.
"Now Jaden." They would say.
"If you bring up those quality scores and start showing more initiative then maybe you can supervise the floor again."
Well I did it... After coming close to failing over 10 quality tests I fell for it. I still had a minute amount of hope deep down somewhere that maybe these people would actually let me advance if I tried a little bit harder.
My scores got better. My attitude changed and 3 months had passed since I had been able to supervise the floor. I had aced all of my quality tests, even winning a $50.00 cash prize for scoring the highest. At this point I figured I would be more than capable of getting back my old position and maybe a little happiness back into my working life after all this was not what I loved to do, this is what I had to do in order to survive and work at my true worldly passions. I spoke to Tammy's boss again.
"So it's been about 3 months now and Ive done literally everything you have asked me to do. Is there anyway I could work the floor again?" I asked as reassuringly as possible.
"Well Jaden." Here we go.
"You see, Its your adherence that is really the problem. Maybe if you just work really hard and try not to take any sick days for the next few months we could possibly consider it."
Fuck that! I had nothing left to give. They had lost my respect, my commitment, and the rest of the care they had managed to suck out of my dry sack of bones. I was done. A year and a half down the drain for a company that cared so little about their employees and thought so highly of their half wit Supervisor that I felt like coughing up blood just looking at the building from the outside and this was a horrible thing for everyone. They lost an employee who would have been more than happy to work there for years and I needed a source of income to pay rent, feed myself, and bay the bills. They were still fucking me dead.
A couple months had passed. I moved into an apartment on Pinecrest with a good friend and I basically "fucked the dog" at work, as an old coworker always used to say. In fact over the last 3 weeks I spent with the company I was having such drastic technical errors that I was unable even to login to a single system to merely do my job. It was completely and utterly their fault. As much as you think going to work and sitting around for 8 hours a day twiddling your thumbs and staring at walls for 3 weeks would be perfect, it was far from it. The days passed like years and the entire time I was there I was getting ridiculed and shot dirty looks from other Supervisors on the floor because they were to egotistical to admit that there could be a possible system malfunction going on. The best part about it was that I was not the only one this was happening to. In fact there were 2 other agents experiencing the exact same problem that I was having and I was still getting the stink eye, all 3 of us were. We were treated as the scum of the Earth by the people who were getting payed to help us but who would listen? Nobody. They were our bosses. Upper Management. We were nothing but Customer Service Agents and apparently that meant that we were completely disposable.
To sum things up about the job. I had lost my shit for lack of better words. I went in and was demeaned to the point of pure frustration. Tammy had decided to drive me over the edge with her "I'm better than you" bullshit and I walked out to the back, hauled off and punched a dumpster. My hand swelled up. I went back inside and took a seat beside a couple of friends from work as a lady from the Human Resources department walked by.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed.
"What happened to your hand?" She was oddly concerned. Not something I was used to experiencing in that place.
"I.. Uh... I hurt it..." I had no idea what to say.
Thankfully my buddy who had been sitting beside me had some sharp wit on his shoulders.
"He tripped outside." He filled her in.
"And he fell into the wall."
Fucking lifesaver!
"Oh no. Come with me immediately."
The woman rushed me off to a back room where she gave me ice for my hand, filled out an injury report form, sent me home with a day of pay, and gave me cab fare to get to the hospital and then back home. She put me in the cab and let the driver know that I would need to be taken to the Queensway Carleton Hospital and have my hand looked at pronto. The cabbie agreed and took off right away.
"Now listen man, I'm going to level with you here..." I said to the cab driver.
"If you can just take me to the LCBO and then back to my place you can keep all the money here."
"But don't you want to go to the hospital for your hand?" The cab driver looked confused.
"I just need a six pack of beer and my apartment and everything will be great." I assured him.
"Ha ha! You are a funny man." His laugh was a cry of victory in my ears.
I had won. Do not fuck with Jaden. In fact that very weekend my sister let me know there was a Supervisor/Interviewer position that had just opened up in the call center she works for Downtown Ottawa and to send my resume into her friend who would be doing the hiring. I sent it in the next day which brings us to now...
I sat on the can and lit up a cigarette at 11:00pm. It had been a long day. I did not go to work and received a call requesting an interview at a call center Downtown Ottawa for the position of an Interviewer. I explained to the man named Ryan (whom I had apparently met before at a party) all of the experience I had pertaining to Call Center work and Floor Supervising. Ryan was ecstatic. I took a drag of my smoke and stared down at a small putting green a friend of mine had given to me as a house warming gift that was wrapped around the bottom of my toilet. Fingernails, dust, lint and pieces of fluff and string had gathered themselves on top of it. Looking back entirely on the situations I had been through over the last few years and the similarities the carpet was sharing with them, I had to laugh a bit, out loud.

Geek on the Bus

Purple colared shirt
Freshly Ironed Pants
Big bright smile with dimples etched into his cheeks
His eyes were catching a gleam off of the sun
He was sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper,
and waiting to catch the bus.
He was no older then 19
and looked as if his mother had dressed him every morning,
packed his lunch and kissed him on the forehead on his way out.
(Which I am sure she did)
When we got onto the bus the scene was dire
It was early
Tired eyes, heads down, caffiene in hands
He stepped onto the bus before me.
The scene did not effect him
He saw nothing unnatural or strange

Immediatley he chose out of the crowd a fellow aquintance
She was young
No older than 19
Thick framed black glasses
Long silky black hair
White colared shirt
She was matching
She smiled big and white
A smile that must have made her mother proud.
It made me a little bit sick
Watching these two
But I could not look away or avoid listening in on
the awkward issues they cared about discussing
They spoke of schools
Colleges/Universities in other cities
The loans they would be taking out
The money they would be spending
What they would be learning
They were not concerened about where the money would come from by any means
(Most certainley from thier parents)
but they were concerned about what they should take
in the semesters and seasons ahead
Business Class
Economics
Management courses
What thier futures would entail by doing so

In between giggles and polite exchange
He would look out the window with pure anticipation
Excitement
Joy
Oppurtunity
She looked down at her text books
Blushing
Not because she loved this boy
because she felt like she was going to become something
Not at that particular moment of course
but sometime this century
He had never fucked her
Neither of them had ever fucked at all
and you could see
(If you really tried)
this jittery fuck tension shaking in thier bones
He just hid it very well under his skin
and besides,
He had his entire life to think about

Enjoy the inexperience now you little geek on the bus
They ll get to even you soon enough
One day you will be looked down upon with pity
and when you stare out of the bus window at the sun
You will feel it burn
You will feel the pain of every living creature around you
because then you will understand
Finally
What the world has become
Not a launch pad of oppurtunity
but a bowel of fear
Ill see you at the end of the bar
in 5 years
Wearing your smile

Graveyard Shifts

6:30 a.m
Must pry eyes open
Must forget the world of dreams
To carry on with the day

Brain now screams for another vessel
Arms and legs still sleep away
I am here in body but not in spirit
To work alone
The graveyard shifts

11:30 a.m
Clumsy now
Fast retreat
Burn my eyes
The cigarettes weep
1st break at work
1st sign of peace
Saturate the temple
In tears of heat
Flooding down into the streets
Where my heart would be
If it hadnt rotted green
Where I could have been serene with women, booze and freedom

2:00 p.m
Lunch has come to an end
Much like the pleasure of being full bellied
Satisfied and Sociable
I have become rarely sociable
Buried in words
Most of which are not good to speak
Usually are not very coture to hear
They taint my tongue
Stain my mouth
and coat my teeth
In bacteria.

"Rebecca Dickens you are a cocksucker
An immaculate consumer whore
You ruin my world you maggot worm
Stop digging tunnels in my cheeks."

3:33 p.m
Get me out of this hell!
My shoes are wet and my throat is numb
Repitition has
Fucked the world dead and dry
I can only hold such a fake facade for so long
I do not want to be nice to you
Or help you in anyway
Or thank you for your time
Your business
Or your slave money
My dick will never stand up again
and it laughs at me for doing this to myself
While I fuck the world dead and dry

5:30 p.m
Is there really anything left to say about
5:30 p.m?
Labotomized
Almost there
Ass end up, Waving high in the air
If I could only take this down
Without coughing myself stupid
Tearing my inards up for blood
Something human
and crimson
Beautiful colour to see at 5:30 p.m
especially when it's spewed on the screen
It makes me smile to see that at least
there is still some form of rebellion in my pain
Fuel in my hatred
Energy in this maddness

7:30 p.m
No more customers
No more liars
No more fuckers
Masochists
Sadists
Machinists
Wage slaves
Soldiers
Losers
Downers
and down right cunts
I am free of the shackles of time control
Finally get to crawl into the pub
Maybe sit down at home with a jug or 2 of wine
Whiskey, Beer, or anything releaving
Or so I choose to believe for the next 6 - 7 hours
Would you look at that
Already counting
Counting down to doomsday
Remorse
More regret
Another drink or drinks
Another day of piss

Stinking... Warm... Piss

Flies

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Reefer Rd. Chapter 2: Pt 5

Reggae is a wonderful thing. A form of music based around happiness and bred to spread the peace of people all over the world. If religion was truly something to admire and indulge in I think listening to reggae should have temples built in honour of its very name. Dylan Murray, a Canadian artist from the Toronto area was playing at Algonquin College, which was about a 5 – 6 minute walk from the apartment building. His performance took place during the mid afternoon at about 1:00 p.m. and was included a-long side a free BBQ lunch. What more could we have asked for our second day just moving to Ottawa? We were still quite hung-over from the night before but I remember waking up to Dylan standing on the balcony stricken with a new found sense of pride. I liked it. He looked at me with a solid grin. We had felt as if the world had become ours for the taking and the first thing on our minds was a pipe, marijuana, beer, a free lunch, and a solid afternoon of Dylan Murray. Dylan had once again jump onto his phone contacting Jess and Maggie almost immediately. I had decided to hop onto Dylan’s computer to have Laura come meet us there as well.




The infatuation had begun. That feeling like there would be no one else in the world you would rather spend your day with than her. The one you had already dreamt of the night before. The only issue was the easily identifiable question... Was I already moving too fast? What actually interested me about this human being other then direct attraction? Who was I to judge really? I was young, always moving on a whim. I had let my instincts take hold instead of my mind so Laura had met us that day and we were ready to go. I was dazzled and overcome with a wild sense of self gratification. I had conquered a massive portion of my life. Was I finally becoming a man? I certainly hadn’t felt like one before that moment in time. I remember for a brief moment contemplating what my parents might had thought of what I was doing right then. I was severely hung-over, pretty ragged, not to mention stoned, and already getting ready for round 2.




We all had those thoughts in the back of our heads as we watched Dylan Murray belt out his inner sorrows a top a green, rolling hill. He was playing in the middle of one of the Algonquin court yards. The sun was shining down on us like we were all supposed to be there, like this was our moment of golden reign over the earth. As the typical college students played volleyball and tossed Frisbees and footballs around we all had one other thing riding our thoughts. That night was Tom's arrival to the new apartment. That night would forever be an unforgettable celebration...

Reefer Road Pt.4

My first real taste for liquor came when I was about 14 years old. I was living in an extremely small town with my mother. The town was named Iroquois after the tribe of Indians who had settled the land many, many years ago. I had lived there for about 4 years when I was younger. It had mainly become a retirement town for old people to die in peace while the youngsters spent all of their time trying to find some way of stirring the pot. In fact the very first time I smoked a joint was in a town just outside of Iroquois with a couple old friends of mine. I never really cared for trying drugs. I was a skateboarder back then and the only time I ever had to dedicate went to throwing my body down flights of stairs and over concrete barriers. Then the day came... I figured why not? It had never harmed any of my friends before and frankly I thought they were always a lot more productive and humorous when they were stoned. They rolled a joint on a fun box outside of my friend’s house.
“I think I’m going to smoke that with you guys.” I replied hesitantly.
“NO WAY! Jaden’s going to smoke weed!” They all chuckled and remarked to themselves. They were way to overly excited about this and frankly it really did not help with my wanting to progress into the circle with them but I thought to myself you only live once right? I had not a clue what the substance was about by any means and I was a little bit nervous. The lighter was flicked. I watched my friends around me all with smiles slapped on their faces. It felt like some sort of initiation into a world I had never known. The joint was passed to the left. My other friend coughed his lungs out making me seize up a little bit more before it was handed to me. I stared at the joint between my finger tips. This was it. I was getting high for the first time in my life. Questions were soaring through my mind. What was going to happen to me? Was I going to hallucinate? Would I overdose? What was this plant going to do to my head? I took a small drag and blew it out quick.
“No man! Take a nice big hit and hold it in or it won’t do anything.” One of my friends instructed.
I put the joint to my mouth. Hauled in as much smoke as my lungs could hold and I held it in. I burst into a fit of coughing but I remember how warm the smoke had felt in my chest. I looked back up at all of my friends who were then patting me on the back and all extremely satisfied of what I had done and then the marijuana took hold. My body was tingling all over. I was seeing the world in a light unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was magic. I was part of something bigger than anything I had ever hoped to believe. The planet had taken hold of my mind and showed me the true nature of itself and myself. I was one with the earth. I had begun to start thinking outside of the box...
I was skateboarding outside one summer day at one of the elementary schools located in the middle of Iroquois. My friend Ryan Smith was with me and we had decided to go back to his place to grab a bite to eat and something to cure the pounding heat outside. We went through his cabinets searching for anything we could find when suddenly Ryan had stumbled upon the liquor cabinet. I had drunk booze before. A few sips of Kaluha here and there but nothing drastic. I was young and these things had never intrigued me before but after my first experience with a new substance I was definitely up for another adventure. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, then a bottle of vodka, and then another bottle of rye. We drank until we felt as if we were going to vomit. Feeling completely "badass" and rebellious we decided to go back to the school and finish of our skate session. This was before the liquor had begun to fill our bodies. The earth started shaking and my vision blurred as we pushed our way to the school but the entire time I had found a new found strength in what I was doing. Nothing was bringing me down! The rest of the day was a complete haze. I do remember Ryan’s mother pulling up in the parking lot of the school ready to ring our necks for what we had done. This quickly passed. From that day on I had always had some deep seeded love for drinking. As I have matured so has my need for the drink but in any other case Laura would now be ready for conversation...Alone.
We were sitting on the floor of my new bedroom. I remember being more lost in her conversation then the fact that I had found myself in a ridiculously brand new situation. I couldn’t help but look around my room and most of the talk was based around the new apartment until the verbal courage started to spew. She had told me something about having somewhat of a crush on me, meeting Tom and I at a party Brendy had thrown sometime in the previous year. This was my shot! I remember my tongue spitting out something along the lines of how gorgeous she was and realistically that sealed the deal. Next thing I know I was staring at the ceiling making out with the most attractive girl I had seen in a very long time...

Reefer Road Pt.3

The words “House Warming Party!” were the only things entering our minds. We may not have had everything moved in fully yet but we sure as hell owned the place and we were certainly going to break it in!
One sporadic day while I was visiting my mother out in the country, I had come across a marvellous little wonder that had decided to catch my eye. There on the front lawn of her old, stone home sat a small Mayan warrior statue peeking its head out of the grass. I picked him up from the ground. He was mystically carved. His sword had been broken off and his clay body covered in mud. I immediately asked my mother who this statue had belonged to.
“That’s the landlord’s Jaden. You’re standing in his yard.” My mother had pulled me back down to Earth.
This Mayan warrior would no longer be in the “landlord’s” company. The Mayan warrior was now a piece of my soul.
“I’m taking him. I don’t care what you say.” I replied and nothing had ever been spoken ever since. He was mine.
I had un-wrapped the clay warrior from his newspaper shelter and brought him into the living room of the new apartment where I sat him on the couches end table and stuck a stick of incense in his mouth. Dylan stared at me with a fresh joint sparked in his mouth... This was home.



Dylan immediately got on his phone after a solid balcony session and called a bunch of our mutual friends over for drinks. I remember that night as well as I ever will but keep in mind this is where things begin to get a little hazy. The previous year Dylan and Tom had committed themselves to a couple of programs at Algonquin College. Dylan (rather obviously) was taking photography and was now in his second year. Thomas was taking electrical engineering but had a falling out about half way through the year. The course was not for him. They had lived in Algonquin Residence during the year. I was there at every opportunity I possibly could have taken in between my return to high school for a semester and work. Algonquin Residence has become a Nazi recruitment camp ever since but when we were there the place was set ablaze with frenzy. Booze, drugs, metal and all the fun we could throw ourselves toward. This however was the catalyst life choice that had brought us together with so many of our closest Ottawa friends today the Barhavener’s, Maggie, Jessica and Sam. The Barhavener`s consisted of many great people. Andrew Cottingham, Brendy Rygus, Ryan Lafrenier, Steph H, Rebecca Leach, and the list goes on. Most of these friends came out of the photography program at Algonquin including Maggie and Jessica. Jessica was the happiest person I had ever come across complete with dread locks and a thunderous laugh like no other. Maggie had become very fond of Dylan over the growing years and Dylan of Maggie.
The responses came quick. Everyone was eager to get to Baseline and party in our new found apartment and one by one, sure enough the heads rolled in. There were new faces amidst the crowd. One in particular I will never forget. She was beautiful and glowing. Her name was Laura. Before I delve into this story I feel obligated to relay a little insight of the perpetual relations I tend to have with women.
I have been known to be unkind and un-fair in many circumstances mainly because I am a very self oriented human being. I am an extremely self driven person when it comes to matters of human relationships and most of the time I do not fare well because of this. I am one to pursue, indulge, love and when things go awry (as most relationships with girls usually tend to do) rarely ever retain. I have become extremely comfortable with who I am and confidence is something I dispose in vast quantities. So having relayed this information... Her name was Laura.
The party was booming and the drinks were flying but I had one thing on my mind...Discovery. I had finally found myself in a new place amidst new people and I was all for forming new bonds. I sent some subtle eye gestures her way and had begun to start making some small conversation. The progression happened fast. Alcohol will bring out a lion in anybody. “Liquid courage” as my dad had always said. My friends and I had never been stranger’s to alcohol.

Reefer Road Pt.2

They had found a three bedroom apartment in Ottawa and were looking for a roommate. All I had been doing with my life while living at home was working, reading, writing and of course smoking quite a bit of pot in between coming home from the night shifts. I was working at a place called Nucomm which would be better known as a low grade call center located in the far west end of Brockville. Brockville is about a 10 – 15 minute drive west of Prescott. My father would drive me to work by day and my friend and co-worker Amanda would drive me home by night. I mainly worked the late shifts starting around 3 and ending most of the time around midnight. My routine at night had usually consisted of smoking weed with Amanda on the way home and then smoking a little bit more when I got home so I could be high minded and ready for a sound read. In fact one night I remember having a small zip lock bag full of psilocybin sitting in my room, so when I got home from my shift around midnight I lit some incense, got out all of my drawing pencils, pens, papers and books and went to town. I remember walking around my room a lot, examining the walls and writing frantic poetry in hopes that my parents wouldn’t walk into my bedroom to find me laying on the floor with a joint in my mouth and pupils the size of the moon. Naturally with my unsettled quest for sanctity I agreed with the motions but found them to be to tiresome and overdone. I was bound for things outside of my little world and moving was the stepping stone I needed to find out just what those new found adventures might be. In no way did I ever expect the path that had laid itself ahead of me.
We said our goodbyes to our families and friends and the old sheltered lives we had all been living in and packed up our belongings. We moved in to 1800 by the end of the summer when things were as beautiful as they come. The apartment was a dream, come true for us. We were situated on the 4th floor but the building was odd in this respect. Each individual apartment went as follows... After opening the door you were approached by either a set of stairs leading upward into the apartment or downwards. The sequence being that one apartment would be directing upstairs the next one directing down so each floor was technically two floors at the same time. All in all, when I say we were located on the 4th floor we were actually situated on the 7th due to the fact that our apartment had lead downstairs. We had three bedrooms, a big living room/dining room, and a tiny, little kitchen. The floors were made of hardwood leading into carpet in the bedroom area that divided itself from the living room with a single door. The balcony however was what held all of my love for our old apartment. The view was incredible, overlooking all of the Deerfield area as well as most of the outskirts of Nepean. The apartment was pristine and every single 18 year olds dream pad.
Moving day had proven itself to be quite the situation. Dylan’s mother Mary had decided to bestow upon us her entire living room set which included a massive, comfy, black leather couch and chair, a wooden coffee table, and an end table in lieu of her buying a brand new set for her living room at home. Everything else we had moved in was easily transported and manoeuvred except for this gigantic leather couch. We struggled hard, shifting it around in the elevator trying to fit the monster into the tiny steel box. After squishing it sloppily into the 4 man elevator the real dilemma had only just begun. The couch in no way, shape, or form was going to fit through our doorway. We had tried everything and by god this baby would not budge and butter was not going to solve this problem. Not giving in, we had all conjured up an idea.... We literally had decided to completely remove the front door and parade the couch violently through the doorway and down the flight of stairs into the apartment... Triumph! We could rest easy on that note but resting easy was not in neither Dylan nor my vocabulary that first summer night.
Tom had to head back towards Brockville for the night due to the fact that he had still another full load of stuff to bring up the next morning so it was Dylan and I for the first night. I remember what my bedroom had looked like that first night. I was sleeping on two fold out cushions because of the fact that there was absolutely no room to fit my bed in Tom’s parents’ truck and my dad was driving a newer model red, family Intrepid which had done its job fitting all of the smaller items I needed to take. I had one black dresser, a few posters from my old bedroom at home, a blue Ikea reading chair and a small T.V. that I never to this day recall using. After situating all of the furniture we had moved in, stacking all of the food in the cupboards, and rearranging our bedrooms, we were more than ready for a night of drunken debauchery weather Tom be there that night or not!

We had done it! Freedom alas!

Reefer Road Pt.1

All good things must come to an end...One might say that this saying has narrowed itself into my life over the last short period of time. I had been living on the outskirts of Algonquin College in the west end of Ottawa (otherwise known as Nepean) in a somewhat mediocre and under developed apartment building – 1800 Baseline Rd to be precise from 2008 - 2010. Located beside such areas as College Square and slap – dab in the middle of Bells Corners and Downtown Ottawa. The location had never generally bothered me (personally I was a fan of West End Ottawa). Baseline Station (a bus station of which any area in Ottawa is practically reached by) is close to 1800 as well as a grocery store, fast food places including Mcdonalds, Pizza Pizza, and Subway, Rogers for all of your gaming, and movie needs, and on top of that the coveted LCBO and Beer Store were located no more than a 7 minute walk from my old apartment. A person might ask themselves; why would a young adult no more than 20 years of age want to leave an area so suited towards his own needs? Well... In light of certain events I had been driven to ask myself that exact question.
It was the end of August in 2008 when I was approached by two of my best friends Dylan Leeder and Thomas Slack. Tom and I had been great friends since the moment we shared our first conversation. The man was driven by fun and loved nothing more than to just sit down and pour his entire minds technicality into writing guitar...Oh yes and if I forgot to mention before, Tom is a party fiend (as most of my friends generally are). My friendship with Tom really grew when I decided to try out for the lead vocalist position in a previous metal band he was in called Hide Yourself Away, Generally known in the Brockille and surrounding area’s music scene as a very solid group. When they had decided that I was the right choice for the band after their old vocalist (and now great friend of mine as well) Justin Amyotte had decided to disband, it has been musical progression ever since... (Mind you the band may have gone through a few musical differences, name changes and complications but the real dedicated members have chosen to fight on). Great personalities mesh together well and Tom and I had made a great pair.
Dylan, on the other hand has been like an expansive rollercoaster. After getting over that initial fear at the beginning while waiting in line you may not be quite sure about the rickety ride. It had many stomach turners in the middle but once you felt out the track and got to understand it’s mechanics you wish you could have built a house beside the coaster so that you could experience it every day. Dylan is a professional photographer and I say this because I firmly believe that he of all people will be making heads turn in the world of professional photography. This man has a style all of his own and has had nothing but dedication for the art since the day he was born. The term Brother is the only word that could possibly come to mind while trying to describe Dylan and in words taken right from Dylan’s mouth “We are so cool!” The amount of fun I have had with this human being cannot be measured at any length. It will never stop and I never intend it too. True, Death Bros.
I was living with my parents beforehand in a no where town called Prescott, Ontario. When I say “No Where Town” I mean this in the truest sense of the words. When I was younger Prescott was my world. There were a maximum of 9 – 10 stores, 4 schools, (1 high school and 3 elementary) 1 bar, and low and behold, about 5 – 6 separate churches. Growing up in this place was, for lack of better words... Odd. Strangely enough I always felt like a very segregated person there. I remember going skateboarding with my brother one summer afternoon finding ourselves in the midst of a bullied frenzy. Four little rat kids had surrounded my brother and myself and had decided to start pushing him around for his skateboard eventually taking it out of his hands and claiming it as their own. My past experiences had told me never to stand down to such mockery and when a member of my family was dragged into the mix there was nothing left to do but rebut.
“Give him back his skateboard right now!” I had decided to step in.
“What are you going to do about it, fag!” This cretin must have stepped into a book or two judging by his sharp retort ion tactics.
“Fuck off kid! Give him back his skate!”
“Fine!” Now I was getting somewhere. “I’ll give his back if you give me yours!” and the scholar had turned into a young entrepreneur.
“Alright... Whatever! Just give him back his board and we’ll call it even.” I felt as if there was no other civil way out of the onslaught.
The kid gallantly handed my brother back his skateboard and as for my end of the bargain well as hard as it may be, my word was my word. As I handed out my skateboard to the chubby little dwarf all of the showmanship had began. In an attempt to impress his slack jawed minions the kid lunged at my stomach instead of grabbing my skateboard. Now, a side note to anyone who has ever been in a brawl as a child, lunging is not the way to start things off. As he tried to latch on to my waist my first immediate reaction was to hammer down with my elbow as hard as I could on his spine. This surely did not come as a very pleasant surprise to my foe. He arched his back up and cried in pain and as he attempted to dance around in a dash towards his friend I had decided to drive the nose of my skateboard into his stomach completely immobilizing him from doing harm to my brother or myself again. Our reaction... Let’s get the fuck out of here!
Collisions like these were not a rarity in our little town. There weren’t a lot of overly wealthy families in Prescott and mine was no different. Although we were humble about our finances, we got by with what we had. This lack of grandeur did have a catalyst effect on the members of my family forcing us to do things like adventuring outside to find an old fort, or playing guns at the old abandoned factory across the street. As I grew with the town I found myself retreating more and more into music, books, art, and the wonders of the world. Although beautiful in appearance, Prescott had some very diminishing life lessons on the folk living inside of it. I had then turned the age of 18 and of course I wanted nothing more at the time than to leave the restraints of my parents, quit my good for nothing call center job and start experiencing the real life, a life where freedom of self identity was never questioned or forced onto you. Get a job, go to bed, get a life, mow the lawn, do your work, cut your hair, don’t do drugs, you’re too young to drink, no friends allowed in the house, and the list tumbles on for what feels like an eternity. Basically I felt like there was a massive lack of self identity in my life and I was out to shatter that dome. I wanted to be me on my own and this is precisely what Tom and Dylan had wanted to do.

The Open Road

The sun felt like fire as it bounced off my face
There was a roar from an engine that could have ripped up the highway
My eyes were a' wandering as the road kept on turning
I felt like a halo that had bent itself sideways
The wind in the tree's had projected many colors
I thought about the days and how they are just other numbers
Why does freedom only comes to the ones who seek it?
And why do we penolize all of the ones who try to think it?
As the tires rolled on with the beat of the pavement
I fell in love with the shape of the world
We never really had any set destination
But do the cars outside of which we were racing?
Where do they go and where do they come from?
A question outside without any asking
Lets drive on down to the bed of the ocean
and jump and run and swim for our lives
Float on out to the deep blue middle
Pretend that way forever and never start sinking
Or drive to the desert where the sand fuels its content
Slide down the dunes that have shaped out a warning
For the creatures inside and the problems alone
Stand on their tips like a foot of a mountain
Stare into the skies at complete empty nothingness
A feeling of weightlessness without any placement
But our tongues are all tied to the steps of our homes
Our hands held back at the mouth of the alter
Our feet all bound to the nails of a coffin
Our children retreat in the length of our graveyards
Our mouths havent been speaking and our eyes are held closed
Our insight has fallen on the sidewalks of the city
With our poets and cigarettes and lovers and theives
So Im leaving today without any sorrow
and showing my friends the planet we have owned
So they can open their eyes and fill up their bodies
To stare at the sun with a feeling unknown
To feel out the planet and find some potential
Jump off the stairways and hit the open road


Lately we had a solid little jam down in the belly of the beast in Hull, Quebec. This is some of the footage...Enjoy!

Ramblings of a Peace Junkie

More headlines in the papers about Haiti this week right beside the forgotten government “Jobless Budget Priority” segments. I cannot believe someone has actually even written these articles down and published them for the public eye to witness! What kind of slow paced ninny goat actually believes these things they talk about? “The next federal budget should focus on helping unemployed Canadians and businesses struggling through the recession, say Canada’s opposition leaders.” All would be wholesome and grand if only these statements weren’t then followed by “Liberal leader Micheal Ignatieff was quick to say he wasn’t setting out any ‘conditions’ but said he will be looking for a credible program for dealing with the deficit and help for jobless Canadians.” In summation, how is this getting us anywhere at all? Having been a jobless Canadian after moving to the city of Ottawa for about 7 months these matters have taken precedence of really frustrating me. The public are briefed on problematic aspects of their waking life and then told that they are being ‘looked into’ (for lack of more misleading words). Are we supposed to sit around with our cigarettes and magazines with hope and neglect that things are actually going to turn out alright?
Personally I thought the article was a major farce masked by more important issues happening on a global scale as most of our political issues have been over the past month (if not for most of time). Being the curious human I am, I decided to skim through to the ‘letters to the editor’ section hoping that maybe, just maybe there was a soul out there reading these articles and had possibly something to say about the matter. My aspirations were stubbed out with demandingly important articles like “Hockey Violence Must Stop” and “Taliban Thugs”. I then had to come to terms with the victims of our ignorance. We jump on a whim to help out another country and don’t even understand our own. Don’t get me wrong here. I think the Canadian involvement in helping Haiti is exceptional as you can very well read in my previous article I had written for the Toronto Star website (‘Youth for Haiti’, January 20th 2010 down below if interested). We are finally standing up for ourselves and taking some initiative of getting something done and the government has noticed. It’s great! While this is happening however we have chosen to neglect everything we have been trying to fight for all along, our rights and freedoms as individuals in our own country as the government shrugs it off for other issues. Has anyone even heard Stephen Harper speak? What does he do? I don’t even know who he is or what he has become but by the looks of things he may be some form of mime behind a curtain waving his hands and making people laugh.
While President Obama takes in the spotlight Stephen Harper hides behind his shadows making sure nobody gets a glance of his insignificant face...Are vampires allowed to come out in daylight? I am not one to stick my nose into matters of politics mainly because to me it comes across as a simple game of soldiers taking control of everything we cannot own but when it is affecting us directly why not lend a voice, or maybe an opinion here and there? It is what keeps us mobile and together. Stop forgetting. Great job in Haiti! Let’s keep our country the beautiful place we know it can be. As I glared out my bedroom window at the Gatineau hills in Quebec, wrote this segment with a pack of Canadian cigarettes, matches, the paper, and The Great Shark Hunt by Hunter S. Thompson I prepared myself for the evening and thought to myself... What is in store for tomorrow?

Youth for Haiti

There has been something strange about waking up on these January winter mornings. Every cup of coffee I drink comes from a vending machine and every newspaper I read has a front page spread of the “Devastating Earthquake in Haiti” and because of such issues has lately had me pondering about what makes us who we are and what we are doing as Canadians to invest a bit of ourselves into finding out more about this global issue. On average and from many first-hand experiences dealing with people around my own age, I had come to build up a semi-biased opinion on some of the matters these individuals choose to sink their minds into and normally my opinions are hard to change. Today I stand corrected...
As I focused my attention deeper and deeper into the Canadian involvement of the Haiti earthquake I had finally come to terms with having my opinion changed. Over the last couple of weeks I have been receiving nothing but invitations to Haiti Fundraisers and groups like “Hundreds for Haiti” (One of which I have been presently following) over Facebook and other networking websites. “Hundreds for Haiti” is a group created by 2 young girls named Shelby Morell and Katie Matheson whom of which both currently reside in the Brampton Ontario area. I was intrigued with the dedication they had shown with starting the group and decided to get in contact with one of the girls.
“I started this group as an attempt to spread awareness of the severity of the situation in Haiti to fellow classmates, family, and friends” Wrote Shelby Morell. The returning grad student of St Thomas Aquinas High School and aspiring photographer in the local Brampton area was taken back the moment she had witnessed the Quake all over the news. After witnessing the devastation and further educating herself about the matters surrounding the Haiti incident she had realized that there was more she could do to help Haiti then she had realized. “I know that if you want something to be seen - and seen fast - Facebook is the way to do it, and by creating my group "Hundreds for Haiti", this addictive social networking site has proved itself yet again.” Shelby had students meet her during and after school and has reached people as far as the Philippines to help with aid through the group.
As of January 19th 2010 “Hundreds for Haiti” has reached 1071 members and have raised almost $4000.00 to donate to the Yele Haiti foundation founded by Grammy award winner Wyclef Jean. “I have been insisting to everyone that anything they can do - whether it be spreading the word through text, inviting people to the Facebook group, or donating whatever they can - it will in fact make a difference.”
Sitting on my couch and sifting through pictures of the damaged Haitian National Palace is something that has come unexpectedly and by somewhat of a surprise but it has been (and like I had stated before) a known fact that my mind is a hard thing to change. It is with the youth of today and people like Shelby Morell and Katie Matheson that really gives us a true peer into ourselves. It is for people who have enough courage to stand up and lend out a hand to our fellow human brothers and sisters without any hesitation that will give us hope for our future generations. There has been something strange about waking up on these January winter mornings and through so much chaos can there really be such a sense of hope from our youth?



- Jaden Adams


For any further donations or inquiry about the “Hundreds for Haiti” group Shelby can be reached at 1 – 647 – 227 – 0091 or text “Yele” to 501501 to donate $5.00 to the “Yele Haiti” fund.

12:00

The stars were all gleaming as the moon hung low
The night time was vibrant and the sky was aglow
A lonesome wanderer and a finely dressed crow
At midnight had began a conversation.
"There is something too simple in believing yourself."
Started the Crow with a sigh.
"Or at least that is what they have been trying to teach us."
"There are no more fantasies worth diving into
and all of the colors have faded passed shade.
Wouldn't you love to wake up in the morning to a whole new wacky world,
Where all of our worries were gone?
Where we all got along and sang for the moon and the tides and everything else that caught the attention of all our discovering eyes...
It is kind of like imagination!"
The Wanderer proclaimed.
"And this fairy tale world we have all dreamt up really holds no true meaning!"
Celebrated the Crow.
The Wanderer believed in thought and magic and friends
But least of all this world that he lived in
He was true to himself
He spoke with integrity of change because he saw the potential floating all around us.
"It is just the eye sight that needs to change...
Not the weather, nor the rain. We all need to look deeper for our colors... Because they are all there you know. If you choose to look far enough."
The moon had almost fully disappeared and the sun had begun to rise.
He shuffled his hat, scratched his nose and looked upwards toward the sky.
"Or maybe you don't..."
And that was precisely what he had meant to say
So the Crow packed up his things and he traveled away
and the Wanderer tossed off his hat in celebration of that day,
At the prominent stroke of noon.

The Fear

Have you ever just sat down, focused your eyes deep into space, and thought about those three awe inspiring letters... Why? Then you more than obviously have stumbled upon the branching effect before. Where the “why?” turns into a “what for?” and the “what for?” becomes a “What in the hell am I doing with my life? My hair is too short, my body too thin, I laughed when I saw a child crying over a banana today and by god the last time I fed the dog was Christmas 1964!” As intensely allusive these thoughts may be, how many times do these reflections ever amount to anything good? Are you ever entirely positive about yourself? I as much as anyone have fallen victim to this weird slave generation our countries have going on here and I get it, it works for some people. Bright lights are big, and yes they are oh so shiny and distracting but does degradation really come with such an impressive reward? I am very concerned about humanities future. It’s the constant paranoia that has really been getting to me. Has nobody noticed this extreme lapse of paranoid, irrational fear everyone has been going through lately? I mean realistically it has been happening for the entire span of human existence already but it is still to this day insane to observe! I was huddled up on the couch for a nice night of conversation with a few friends when the news had to creep its way onto my television screen. What a ghastly charade those people put on. Always know that there should be a certain criteria of rules set into play while watching the news...
Although the news may be informative and at times generally precise you must keep in mind that they love to project fear. It is their passion. You are kidding yourself if you choose to believe that the 3 second pity segments after commercials about “young Sally Jenkins from the neighbourhood’s beauty pageant winning dog shit grinner was just nominated for another shot at the title again this year” actually attributes to making the news “not all that bad.” Give me a break! Regardless of how much I believe the news should be bent into that direction, it will never be that way. I mean if it were, maybe I would actually enjoy the seemingly endless periods of time that it is played on television for in the evenings. The main goal to keeping your sanity during the news is however, to be aware of the blunt intention of these media ogres with their stalking attempts to try and break the middle class spirit. You must always keep this in mind. They want you to feel unsafe outside of your homes to trap your attention otherwise we would have news station ratings dropping off the airwaves like suicide divers but we can’t have that happening now, Can we? There would be too much money lost in the process for already overly wealthy investors and they are at the moment what makes this world go round. Wealthy investors and we all know wealthy people are greedy. That is how they got to their point of power. Like spoiled children they trample faces, names, companies, friends, adversaries and lovers. They want all of their own cookies and all of yours too. So they stick to the scare tactics because they know it works, it keeps the average human being in place and it is what keeps them in business and that is truly all it has become these days, just like everything else on this planet... business. So we sit down quietly, turn on our television sets at 11:00 p.m., grab a bag of popcorn and watch the world explode, always kept in line... What would you do to keep your job?
This week’s big story: The full body X-Ray scanner that is being placed in airports all over North America. This story, for me anyways has been just another eye opener to these suburban lives people all hide behind. Full body X-Ray scanners in airports! Have people given up entirely on even the slightest amount of possible freedoms we could be given? How can anyone be accepting of such things? Before these neutron machines are placed into our airports I want to get a few facts set straight here! Are there really that many “terrorists” traipsing through our airports, getting away with sporadic crimes left, right, and center? (Just saying) I know I certainly have never caught a glimpse of one and I’m sure that if I did his/her profile might seem a bit off. I for some reason doubt that “old Mrs. Watson from city hall” has decided to strap an AK-47 up her skirt. There is no way a human can go through rigorous training boot camps... sorry, TERROR-ist camps without having some form of sketchy facade attached. These people do not grow up in suburban Canadian and American towns. I am sorry for stepping on your fantasies. We are being stripped of yet another freedom simple and plain. This time however, we are taking it without a fight and without information. We just accept the fact, step into tiny plastic tubes while “security” guards get a good look at our wee-wee’s, and shrug it off like its standard procedure, just another day and another place to go. Got to get back to that old nine to five job and make sure to stock up on antiseptics and band aids, you know to keep that brain inside your head from bleeding.
The fear grows like a new-age plague. We keep up this constant fear of each other for reasons we don’t even fully understand or care to understand. Maybe it is embedded somewhere in our genetic make-up? Maybe we still have some deep receded fright of being eaten by something bigger and stronger then ourselves, I mean we did survive through evolution(surprisingly I might add) but where have we ended up? I don’t feel like our advancements are truly making a difference anymore. Some would beg to differ but just think to yourself, deep down just like you do when you ponder that magic word I had discussed before. Have we really been making a difference? One to better ourselves and the lives of every fellow human we walk, eat, sleep, and breathe beside? If you finally stumble upon an answer and shed all current ideals of this society of sceptics and pushovers, I think we may finally come to the point of forgetting to ask ourselves the question that has been tearing away at my mind the entire time I have spent here and that question again is: Why? When I took philosophy back in high school I had a great teacher by the name of Mr. O Neil. I remember him remarking to the class about his quirky philosophical question he had used to end a previous years exam with. The question was in itself: Why? He spoke about a student and his “100%” response to the question, a student of which I had never had the pleasure to meet. His choice of words had always stuck in my mind from that point on. The student answered with a simplistic yet suggestively responsive: Why not? I think he had this planet more figured out then he could even know...