Category Archives: rants

concert etiquette

There’s something you should know about me, especially after reading most of these posts. I hate a lot of things. There are a lot of things that make my blood boil. One of those things is other people. Other people suck. If you don’t feel like this, you should probably go out more. Usually, I try to avoid being in large groups. Because people suck. But there are times when it’s unavoidable. And it seems like the worst in people is brought out in large crowds.

Now what I don’t hate is music. Especially seeing artists perform live. And that’s where my problems arise. I’m not rich. So I can’t afford a private show by the artist in my living room. It’s a sad reality for most of us. So I have to go see them in concert.

A concert is essentially combining something I love with something I hate. Usually what I love (the music) drowns out what I hate (everyone else), so I’ve yet to really have a negative concert experience. But there are still instances where my hatred for fellow man can’t be ignored. It seems as if all the biggest assholes in the world have conglomerated in to one room on a quest to ruin my one on one time with ______________ (musical act).

Usually it’s just one annoying thing, so my whole experience isn’t ruined and I just forget about it and enjoy the show. But this last concert was different.

I went to see Lorde at Danforth Music Hall thanks to a friend of mine providing a great early birthday present. She was flawless (read my review of her debut album here if you haven’t), but this isn’t about her. This is about everyone else there. It seems that every type of possible “concert asshole” was in attendance that night. Here’s a list of “concert assholes,” please don’t let this be you.

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ryerson o-week 2013

oweekIf you follow me on Twitter, then you may have noticed I was a little upset the other day about the musical line-up for Ryerson’s orientation week.

It seems like the same song and dance every year. My first year at Ryerson we had Dragonette who has had probably one hit song ever. I didn’t go.

The next year was a massive upgrade I must admit, but probably only for a few people and especially not me, with Marianas Trench, Sean Kingston and Fefe Dobson. I didn’t go.

For some reason, despite the record stating otherwise, I was sort of optimistic about this year. Maybe, just maybe Ryerson would be able to field a relevant, decent, and somewhat popular artist to headline. Talented would be good too, but I wasn’t holding out.

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hipster

Recently, I was inspired by a post that is pretty great and you should read it right now. Now.

Done? Ok good.

There are certain words that are just beautiful. Magnificent even. I love words. I love how they sound. I love what they mean. I love when they sound like what they mean. Certain words just make me smile and I’ll find ways to just throw them at life like a small rubber ball. I love hearing other people saying my favourite words, especially when they have beautiful angelic voices.

What I absolutely hate though, is when someone uses a word that they don’t know the meaning to. Sometimes it’s to sound smarter than people so you feel like a special snowflake. I get that. I do that. But that’s because I have that need to feel superior because I’m an asshole, probably. Sometimes it’s just a word you can’t get rid of no matter how stupid it is. But you just keep saying it anyways because it’s engraved into your subconscious.

Then there are some words that are both useless and culturally engraved into a person. You just can’t stop.

The word that comes to mind is hipster.

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i’m afraid of periods.

No, the title isn’t about some writing problem I have with periods. And it’s not some profound allegory about being afraid of endings. I’m literally talking about menstruation. PMS. Now that we’re clear about that I also want to say that it has nothing to do with it attracting bears either, though that is cause for concern.

This is also weird because I never expected to write about my own life really despite the odd anecdote here and there because I don’t think people care really. So I’ll try to keep it minimal and approach this from a grand perspective.The key word is try because I don’t know what sort of word vomit is about to come out.

I also want to preface that I’m not throwing all women and men in a stereotypical blender filled with gender roles. It’s a general thing applying to some girls, so please don’t bitch about it because it doesn’t apply to every girl or boy.

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