Music by which to judge me

                Music is something I often talk about with my friends, and, if you’re lucky enough, you may have received Snapchat videos of me lipsyncing/singing along with a wide variety of music. Music has always been a significant aspect of my life, which shouldn’t be a surprise.  A good song tells a story, and stories are my bread and butter. I always listen to the lyrics, so my favourite songs are the ones with good lyrics. So without further ado, here are ten of my favourite songs (in no particular order):

10. Same Love by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis

Macklemore got some heat for this song from some members of the LGBTQIA+ community, because they believed that the whole song was just about Macklemore saying he was straight. That’s an oversimplification of their complaints, but their complaints were silly. Same Love is all about acceptance, no matter your sexuality or gender. In a genre filled with artists who still use the term ‘gay’ as an insult, this song is important. In the lyrics, he calls out his fellow artists for doing that, and for promoting discrimination towards the queer community. Same Love promotes equality and acceptance, and it has a pretty good beat. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlVBg7_08n0 (the comments on the video are surprisingly uplifting for the internet)

9. American Pie by Don McLean

This song has been one of my favourite songs for almost as long as I can remember. I don’t know when or where I first heard it, but it has stuck with me for two decades. The song is an ode to music, and the lyrics are chockful of subtle references to the musicians and events of the 50s and 60s. Delving into the lyrics can be a history lesson that sheds light on how McLean felt about the state of music. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAsV5-Hv-7U

8. The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel

You’ve probably heard this song in one of the numerous funeral scenes Hollywood has put it in. And I understand why. The song is full of mourning, and sombre lyrics. Just hearing the opening chords puts one in a melancholy frame of mind. I love it. It’s a beautiful song. I really don’t have more to say than that: it is a beautiful song. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLfCnGVeL4 or listen to Disturbed’s amazing cover: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Dg-g7t2l4

7. Let it be by The Beatles

I can’t have a list of my favourite songs without listing The Beatles. Let it be is one of my favourite Beatles songs because of the lyrics. Paul McCartney has said that he wrote this song while thinking about his mother, whose name is also Mary, who passed away when he was young. The lyrics tell the listener to let go and be at peace. The song also has a hopeful note to it with the lyrics; “when the broken-hearted people/Living in the world agree/There will be an answer, let it be…” Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0D5JJZl6MB0

6. Gallows Pole by Led Zeppelin

Not the usual choice when people talk about their favourite Zeppelin song, and, to be honest, Stairway doesn’t even hold the number 2 spot: that goes to Kashmir. Gallows Pole tells the story of a man trying to stall his execution until he can be rescued, but all his attempts at stalling and bribery are for not, and at the end of the song he is hanged. I admit, it’s an odd song to love, but I do. It’s gallows humour at its finest. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kBX0K9nxPc

5. Zero by Hawk Nelson

This isn’t necessarily a good song from a technical standpoint, but it makes the list because of the profound personal meaning it has for me. This song came along when I was in a pretty dark place, and it helped me move on. It may be clichéd to say that this song saved my life, but it did. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFO7T2VPwdA

4. Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones

Again, probably not the first choice for many people when it comes to the Stones; I tossed around Sympathy for the Devil and Mother’s Little Helper for a while, but ultimately, this is the song that makes me love the Stones. If you look up the lyrics, you’ll notice that there aren’t many. But the lyrics it does have are full of longing and loss and love. You can hear all of this come across through Jagger’s vocals and Richard’s guitar work. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFLJFl7ws_0

3. Jesus Freak by DC Talk

This song defined a huge chunk of my life. It was my anthem as a teen. The song came out in 1995, but was still being played talked about a decade later. The song is arguably DC Talk’s greatest. It’s all about standing up for your beliefs in the face of persecution. Which is a solid message. Hearing it now still makes me want to rock out, and I remember the profound emotions I felt when I heard one of the members perform just part of the song live. Chills. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbB0QrBIs9k (that music video is so 90s)

2. Savior by Skillet

I honestly don’t know what to say about this song. Skillet was one of my favourite bands, and I listen to their new records as soon as they come out. This song was my introduction to them. I have seen this band live more times than any other. I was at the concert where they performed Open Wounds for the first time. I was at a concert that had an impromptu acoustic segment because of broken guitar strings. I’ve met the members; I’ve had conversations with them. All because of this song. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED85HCnM6bY

1. Carry Me Down by Demon Hunter
One of the only metal bands I listen to, and I pick one of their more melodic songs. As soon as I heard this song, I joked about how I wanted it to be played at my funeral (not a joke, totally play this song at my funeral). The song is sombre, the lyrics are beautiful, and vocals make you feel things. The song is about letting go, and not being frightened by that. The song is about being there at the end, and being able to carry on after. This song. Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2-RHFJ2Vmg

Again, this list is in no particular order. These are just ten of my favourite songs. Hope you enjoyed. 

The write right

I need to write

I need to right

But what to write?

And what is right?

Left alone to write

Change wrong to right

Darkness falls yet I write

Shrouding what is right

Cleansing all as I write

To be free is right

To be free is to write

I cannot be right

For I cannot write. 

A true story

                I saw someone post something on Facebook today that got me going (my fault for going on Facebook), but then I started talking to a co-worker about something and a topic that I’ve had experiences with came up in a joking manner. It was one of those times where I’ve had real world experiences in something strange, but didn’t want to say anything because it could make me sound like a crazy person.

                The topic was on exorcisms. Her son keeps waking up in the middle of the night, so I jokingly said she should call an exorcist in, and said that I knew how to perform them. Again, this was all said in a joking manner. We had a good laugh, and continued on with our day.

                Thing is, I’ve seen exorcisms performed. I’ve seen people possessed by what I would’ve called demons at the time. Hell, I’d still call them demons because I can’t think of another explanation. “But, Zak,” you say, “you’re a somewhat educated fellow, how could you ever believe in something as ridiculous as demonic possession?” And you’re asking a good question. I have studied psychology, and I work, tangentially, in the mental health field, I should be able to think up a rational explanation that doesn’t involve the supernatural. But I can’t. For one, I knew the guy; and two, I’ve experience too much to not believe in…something.

                I wasn’t friends with this guy, but we had classes together and had worked on a few projects in the months leading up to the EVENT. He was weird, but not in a “he’s clinically insane” way. His mental health was fine, is what I’m basically trying to say. I went to a Christian school, and we had chapel every morning. My dorm always sat together and we sat near the front, in the same area every day. The student body president was giving the sermon that morning, and it was a good one. He was a good public speaker, he should’ve kept going but now he’s a pilot instead. In the middle of the sermon there was an animalistic roar from the back of the chapel—a sound that shouldn’t have come from a person’s throat. All the movement in the room stopped, and the student body turned as one towards the source of this noise.

                The guy was standing at the back of the chapel, anger radiating off of his body. He began to make his way forward, his movements spastic and alien. He shouted in a voice that was not his, “they are not your children. They belong to me.” He repeated this over and over as he made his way forward, punctuated by the occasional unearthly scream.

                It was right by our little section of pews that four of the profs, all fit men who worked out regularly, met this guy. I should mention that this guy was not exactly an athlete, but it took all four of these men to restrain him and drag him to the floor. A fifth prof stood nearby reciting scripture authoritatively, as the others struggled to carry the guy out of the chapel. The guy continued to scream, “they’re not yours!” and began to thrash around as he was carried out.

                Once they got him out of the room, the student body president led us all in prayer for around half an hour.

                I had never, and have never since, experienced such pure fear as I did at that moment. I was in the presence of pure, unadulterated evil, and I could feel that in my bones.

                To this day, I am haunted by the voice screaming out: “They belong to me.”

Spend a little time reading about time

                The clock never stops ticking. Of all the manmade constructs, time is the most destructive. Through our use of time, we devalue ourselves, and erode away our essence. Every morning we get up and look at our clocks in dismay upon seeing the time. Only an hour until work. Only an hour for lunch. My time is worth so little, yet my time is literally all I have. From the moment we can begin to process time, we understand that we have only a finite time to live. Every day from birth, the clock ticks constantly onto our demise. Time, dear reader, is all we have, and all we have is an idea created by man to determine our intrinsic value. Time is arbitrary. It’s inconsistent. Time changes so much to the point where it doesn’t matter, and yet we grasp it tight to our chest in the fear that it can slip away from us. But what purpose does time have outside of giving us a monetary value? What happens when one stops relying on time and simply starts to live?

                John was a simple man, as evidenced by his simple name. He went to work when his hours told him to, and he did not when his hours said not to. Soon his whole life revolved around his. His hours not working were simply a count down until he worked again, and his working hours were a count down until he could be at home again. A ceaseless cycle of countdowns leading to other countdowns. Life became an algorithm: When X=9:00, Y=work; When X=5:00, Y=? John would spend his working days in a mindless cycle of emails, phone calls, and idle gossip over his co-workers neighbours at coffee; while his nights were spent just as rigidly scheduled: 5:30 arrive home, 6:00 supper, 6:30 the news, 7:00 unremarkable crime procedural, 8:00 video games with friends, 9:30 get ready for bed, 10:00 read, 10:30 sleep. So lost in this endless cycle of his own creation, his once passions became chores that needed to be done so his day would feel complete.

                With each passing day, John lost joy in his activities. So focused on the passage of time, he forgot how to enjoy being alive. As so many do, John grew depressed at his mindless repetition. He hated what his life had become; mindlessly clocking the hours, yet he could not bring himself to stop it.

                Then, one horribly non-routine day, John lost his job. How this happened is not of import, the only thing that affects the story is that it happened. John was lost. He had no job to center his life around; the mere concept of time had become completely meaningless to him. On that day, John sat in a park. John had not sat in a park without an express purpose in many years. Today, in complete disarray, he simply sat on a bench and watched a pigeon.

                The pigeon would hop around the grass in front of John, occasionally stopping and thrusting its head into the grass only to reappear with a morsel of bread proudly in its beak. The pigeon soon noticed John watching it, and would, at times, pause and simply stare back at John. Could this pigeon see what turmoil John was experiencing? Or was this some natural response to being watched? (Most likely the answer is the latter and regrettably not the former) John sat entranced by this pigeon, mesmerized by the way the bird moved, the way it would cock its head in question at John’s staring, and its indifference as it rooted around for food.

                Once the pigeon had taken its fill, with one last questioning look at John, it took off and flew away. John watched the bird fly for as long as he could see, and for a long period after, John simply stared at the point of which he lost sight.

                With a shiver he realized that night had fallen, and that he had spent the entire afternoon at this park. He hadn’t answered a single phone call, replied to any emails, or read a single text for hours. In fright he pulled out his phone, only to find that he didn’t care to reply to anything as he unlocked the screen. His car was parked across the street, but John decided to walk to his apartment. The brisk air felt good on his skin, and it cleared his mind. All the fears of time constraints and deadlines melt off of him as he walked down the street.

                He was smiling as he unlocked the door to his apartment. He made some food, watched a movie, and then went to sleep—all without checking a clock.

                Mankind needs some way to keep track of events and deadlines, so time was a necessary invention. One of the necessary evils in a world filled with necessary and unnecessary ones. Yet our dependence and utter devotion to time has corrupted it into something that is dreaded. Time is an invention that is meant to serve us, and yet we serve it. We worship at the feet of the all might clock and calendar, and into it we feed our very life force, until all we have left is a feeling of emptiness and self-pity.

                Time is so integral in our day to day lives, that it has become the focal point of our very existence. No longer a mere convenience, it dictates every part of life. Imagine how life would be if we expended the energy wasted worrying about time on something useful? Yet no one can escape this worry, especially in this age of time saving. Even I, as I sit here typing this, am worrying about the time it is taking me! We rate relationships by the length of time that we have known the other person, instead of by how they make us feel; what they mean to us. When I look at my friends, is my oldest friend my dearest one? No, but that does not diminish the fact that she is still my oldest friend. When I look at how long I’ve known my best friends, does their relationship to me become less meaningful simply because I have not known them for as long? No.

                Time, we like to pretend, is a linear thing with a beginning and an end. We like to pretend that time exists as the same for everyone as it does us, and that time does not repeat itself. Time, seemingly simple, is irritatingly complex! And yet it governs our life so completely! I do not escape this. I allow time to govern my life. I follow a schedule and get thrown whenever I break it for some strange reason. I hate it. I wish I could appreciate my life outside of the time constraints I put on myself, and I am endeavouring to do just that. But in a world filled with deadlines, I have chosen a profession that thrives on the deadline. 

Happy Birthday Star Trek

Today is the day: Star Trek’s 50^th birthday. To some it may seem strange to be celebrating the 50^th birthday of a television series, but Star Trek was never just a television series. Star Trek has always been about the future, and what humanity can accomplish when we move past racism and discrimination. Star Trek, at its barest roots, provides one thing: hope. Growing up I watched Star Trek and I saw a world where the colour of your skin didn’t matter. I saw a world where your gender did not define you. And I saw a world where your sexuality was just that, yours. That is the world I have always wanted to live in, and that is the world that I want to strive to create.

                On a segue that’s a terrible transition; there is a lot of pop culture that I like. I like Star Wars, I like superhero stuff, I like Firefly, but there is very few things in pop culture that I love. In fact, I can only think of two: Star Trek and Mass Effect. And to be very honest, I love Mass Effect because of how much it reminds me of Star Trek. I like Star Wars because it’s exciting, but that’s all it is. The plots are simple, the dialogue basic, and the morals in it are quite literally black and white. Star Trek makes you think. It makes you look at your own morals and ethics and question things you never thought you would have to question. And, as I said before, Star Trek gives people hope.

                I could talk about the real world, physical changes that Star Trek has given us: from laptops and tablets to cellphones to the space shuttle; but I want to look at the other, less noticeable impacts it has had. Star Trek created a sense of wonder in multiple generations that led so many people to pursue science as their career paths. The inventor of the modern cellphone did so because he wanted a communicator like Captain Kirk’s! But for the young children watching it for the first time in the 60’s, there was something much more important that it showed: people of different cultures and skin colours working together. At the height of the cold war there was a Russian officer, at the height of racial tensions in the States there was a Black officer who happened to be a woman. These things did not go unnoticed! Nichelle Nichols, the actress who played Uhura, was considering leaving the show at one point, and was convinced to stay on the show by none other than Martin Luther King Jr. Nichelle had been offered a role on Broadway and was considering leaving the show. She says this of Dr. King’s visit:

“I was a singer on stage long before I was an actress, and Broadway was always a dream to me. I was ready to leave Star Trek and pursue what I’d always wanted to do.

“Dr. Martin Luther King, quite some time after I’d first met him, approached me and said something along the lines of ‘Nichelle, whether you like it or not, you have become an symbol. If you leave, they can replace you with a blonde haired white girl, and it will be like you were never there. What you’ve accomplished, for all of us, will only be real if you stay.’ That got me thinking about how it would look for fans of color around the country if they saw me leave. I saw that this was bigger than just me.”

What Star Trek did in the 60s was groundbreaking, and cast members are often asked what Gene Roddenberry was trying to accomplish with his diverse cast, but he wasn’t really trying to accomplish anything. The multicultural cast was just a reflection of the world that he believed in, and he wanted everyone to see it.

                Actress Whoopi Goldberg grew up in the 60’s and she recalls the first time she saw Star Trek: "Well, when I was nine years old Star Trek came on, I looked at it and I went screaming through the house, 'Come here, mum, everybody, come quick, come quick, there's a black lady on television and she ain't no maid!' I knew right then and there I could be anything I wanted to be."

                Stories like this are so common in the Star Trek community. You hear stories of people who were bullied because they were smart, but held onto hope because Star Trek showed them that intelligent people are the ones who save the day; you hear about people who grew up without friends, but Star Trek showed them a future where everyone was accepted so they held on. There’s a quote from Futurama that rings true for almost every fan: “... it taught me so much. Like, how you should accept people, whether they be black, white, Klingon or even female... But most importantly, when I had no friends, it made me feel like maybe I did.”

                There is a reason that Star Trek resonates so strongly even after 50 years. There is a reason why Star Trek is still important. Most pop culture isn’t actually important, sure it can give a glimpse into what life was like in a certain time period, but it is rarely truly important. Star Wars, while entertaining and good, is not important in a significant, cultural way. Star Trek is. It is rare that one can watch a television series from the 60s fifty years later and still get inspired by the future it portrays. Star Trek is especially important now when most science fictions show a bleak and desolate future where humanity is struggling to survive: there is no hope in that. But Star Trek continues to provide that hope. Even in its darkest moments, even when its characters made decisions that were wrong, it still provided hope.

                My entire sense of justice and what is right and wrong comes from Star Trek. It showed me why racism is both wrong and pathetic. It showed me why hate hurts everyone involved. And it showed me that helping someone is never wrong. Star Trek taught me to be true to myself, and it taught me that society should accept me for whom I am, and not force me into something else.

                People sometimes find it odd how emotional I can get when seeing the Enterprise on the screen. Every time the Enterprise is shown for the first time in a film I get emotional; my heart starts racing and tears form in the corners of my eyes, and the people around me can probably feel my love for that ship radiate off of me. You see, seeing the Enterprise fly across a television screen is one of my oldest, fondest, and most significant memories. We often forget our memories from when we were toddlers because they aren’t significant—we may remember the lessons we learned, but we rarely remember how we learned them—but seeing the Enterprise for the first time has never left me. I remember crying when the Enterprise was shown in space for the first time in Star Trek 09, feeling emotionally drained for days afterwards, and seeing it floating there every time I closed my eyes. It may seem odd or pathetic to you that I get so emotional other a fictional ship, but seeing it reminds of the first time when I was watching my dad’s favourite show with him, it reminds of me of every lesson I learned from the franchise, and it reminds me of who I want to be.

                I love Star Trek. I love each of the series and the films. The first real adult novel I ever bought and read was Star Trek Voyager #18: Battle Lines. The first video game I ever finished was Star Trek Voyager: Elite Force (great game). The first graphic novel I ever read was Star Trek The Next Generation: The Gorn Crisis.

                To me, and many others, Star Trek not just a science fiction franchise, but the reason we haven’t given up. I believe in the world that Star Trek portrays. I believe in Star Trek.

                Here’s to the next fifty years, and to a ship called Enterprise. We have many more adventures to come, and I think Kirk said it best: “This is the final cruise of the Starship Enterprise under my command. This ship and her history will shortly become the care of another crew. To them and their posterity will we commit our future. They will continue the voyages we have begun and journey to all the undiscovered countries, boldly going where no man - where no one - has gone before.”

The Captain's Chair: A short story

“I’m gonna miss this chair. From here I have seen so much. Ushered in peace, and navigated through the treacherous waters of war. From here I have seen friends die.” He smiled ruefully, “It was a chair, very much like this one, where I discovered who I really am. To think, everything this chair has seen, and it’s being left to gather dust in a museum. I was sitting in that chair when you and I first met, old friend. Do you remember? Of course you do, that brain of yours doesn’t forget a thing, does it? You know, the only time I was ever truly sad sitting here was when I thought I had lost you. I remember coming back up here after your funeral and sitting down. I couldn’t get comfortable. Nothing seemed right, and my mind… my mind would not focus on anything. I felt no joy feeling that surge of power as we began to move. The wonder I have always held of the stars was lost without you.”

                He turned away from the chair and walked to navigation console, leaning forward on it, with his hands firmly planted. “Bones said I went a little crazy after you died, and I guess I had to have been a little crazy. How else could’ve I stolen the ship to come find you? Sitting in that chair again, high with the hope of finding you, I was excited again. I was happy to be in that chair, to be home again. And being on that planet, with you by my side as it was destroyed; I didn’t feel an immense sadness. The old girl had done all I had asked of it—it brought you back to me, old friend. Even in that rust bucket we took from Kruge, that chair felt right because you were by my side again.”

                He smiled, honestly this time. “I’m going to miss this chair. It was far more comfortable than the first one.” He turned to his friend, who was standing off to the side watching and listening with his hands behind his back. “Well, Spock, aren’t you going to say anything? I know the chair won’t mean as much to you, but the ship, and the name, must mean something to you!”

                “I have never understood the connection that humans make to inanimate objects, as a Vulcan. However, the human part of me does feel a longing to stay. It is, however, illogical to miss a starship. It is far more logical to miss the people I have spent time with on this ship. The human side of me will reminisce about Chekov’s unsubstantiated claims of Russian dominance in classic literature, while the Vulcan side of me will urge me to continue on and not live in my past.” Spock paused, and looked over at the science station, his science station. “I will, however, miss the opportunities that my position on the ship allowed me. And you, Jim. I will miss you on the day that we part for the last time.”

                Jim Kirk smiled at his old friend, “Bones would say that that would be damned illogical for a cold-blooded, pointy eared bastard like you.” Kirk laughed at his own joke, while Spock merely raised his eyebrow quizzically. “Don’t worry Spock, it’s going to be a long time before we part ways. I’m heading out for the shakedown cruise with the Enterprise-B, and then I’ll be back doing god knows what. Do you remember what you said to me while you were dying? ‘I have been and always shall be, your friend.’ I mean to hold you to that.” Kirk clapped his hands and headed towards the turbolift, “Now, I have to get ready for that shakedown. I’ll see you when I get back, supper that night?” Kirk smiled as he entered the lift, knowing that he had many more years to spend with his friend.

                Spock stood by the captain’s chair, a place he had so often stood before, and looked around the bridge, one last time. He remembered the banter between Sulu and Chekov. He remembered Uhura’s professionalism, and the way she would shake her head at the antics that went on around her. He remembered Scotty’s determination to this ship. And most of all, he remembered the way that Bones, Jim, and he would talk; the humans laughing at some joke while he stood beside them, never fully understanding why something was funny, but never feeling like he was the joke. Spock would miss this ship. It was just something he would not admit to Jim. Not yet. Perhaps when Jim returned.

                But Spock would not see Jim again. 

177

                One hundred and seventy-seven. That’s how many videos I’ve uploaded in the past year. That’s right, it’s been a year since I began to make regular uploads and share the more intimate aspects of my life with the wider world.

One year of filming my daily life.

One year of challenge videos.

One year of discussing serious issues.

One year of making bad puns.

One year of baring my soul.

And what a year it’s been. I’m going to talk about the changes that have happened, and the impact on my life, but first a thank you. I want to thank everyone who has watched my videos. I want to thank everyone who has read my blog. I want to think everyone who has sent me questions for my Q&A’s. I want to thank Tooch for giving me the topic of the one and only “Choose your vlog” video. I want to thank Matt for igniting the spark. And lastly, I want to thank my friends and family for putting up with my filming and the incessant talking to myself.

I wish I could say that this has been easy, that the filming came naturally, and that I was never afraid to be honest in a video. The truth is, it’s been so hard. Every time I’ve uploaded I’ve been scared. What if people hate it? What if people hate me? Every time I’ve discussed my asexuality I’ve been worried that the wrong people will see the videos and judge me. Every time I swore I was worried my family would see it and tell me to watch my language (the main reason there’s no footage of me playing Mario Kart).

As I filmed myself I became more confident (something I hear that pornstars also experience, so I’m in good company). When I was a teenager I hated my voice. As I aged, the hate calmed into a disliking, but once I began listening to myself speak on a regular basis I came to like my voice. As I discussed more things that were/are important to me, I grew more confident in them. I wasn’t ashamed of my hobbies once I started filming them. I wasn’t worried that people would think less of me for liking Star Trek, reading comics, or playing Pokémon.

I have been filming myself for a year now, and I don’t regret it. The only things I really regret are the days when I don’t film due to some outside factor. The days and weeks that go by without uploads don’t happen because I don’t want to film or edit, but simply because, for some reason, I cannot. The reasons range from the personal to the professional. I wish I could still be daily vlogging, and I will be actively trying to start that again, but there are times in life (especially when one isn’t rich) when daily uploads are just not feasible.

                But I have 177 vlogs, challenge videos, news videos, and rants that the entire world can watch.

There are 177 different adventures, 177 short movies that I have made. And I am proud of them and of myself. Here’s to the next year, and the next 177+ videos.

                Hopefully I’ll still be advertiser friendly (YouTube inside joke).