Who likes website colour swappers? Anyone?

When I developed the theme I am currently using, I searched high and low for something I could steal take inspiration from. The funny thing is that most people don’t even know where the colour swapper is on my site. So few in fact that I had to add a caption to it to help make it a little more obvious.

In any case I felt that I would share the method I used to create the swapping functionality on my website. I’m aware that most of it can be figured out with a little imagination and some source viewing, but I think that going through it step by step is more helpful.

UPDATE - 10/09/2008 - In record time, a second pair of eyes looking at this has managed to refine the process. Thank you Bart for pointing out that if the CSS files are named the same as the Title attribute of the Anchor, then you can drop the whole If statement. I’ve updated the tutorial accordingly

Table of contents

• The idea
• Before we begin
• Setting up our files
• Setting up the CSS files
• A dash of PHP
• The basic markup
• The JavaScript
  • Importing the required files
  • Adding functionality
• Pulling it all together
  • Flow
• Conclusion

The idea

So you want to build a colour swapper? Easy as pie. You want to do it without causing a postback and sustains itself throughout the navigation? That’s a little more tricky, and what I wanted to do myself.

What, you’re too lazy to figure this out for yourself? No problem. Read on and be merry.

Before we begin

A few words before we begin:

• I am not a master of JavaScript, let alone JQuery. I’m not a novice, but I am in no way a master of the language. There are probably many ways in which to improve my methods here. I’m going to take another crack at them and see what I can come up with. I’ll update the code to this post If I come up with anything.
• In addition to the last note, I’m not going to explain how JQuery works. they do a fine job on their own. If you don’t understand it, I suggest you take some time and become familiar with it.
• This whole solution rides on the idea that your users allow JavaScript and Cookies. If the Cookies are disabled, the styles will still change, but will not persist between page refreshes/navigation. If JavaScript is disabled, nothing will work because I have not yet implemented a postback-friendly alternate. If I find myself with time I’ll do this as well and update this post.
• This whole tutorial is based on the idea that you are applying this to a Wordpress theme. If you’re using something else, you’ll need to alter this as you need.
• I have noticed that in some browsers, the swapping is not instant, and you may notice somewhat of a flicker. In my case the colours go away, and then the new ones are applied. Some browsers do not do this. I have no idea why this happens.

Setting up our files

For this solution we’re going to need to get some files from the JQuery website (the latest JQuery build), and create some files in our Theme folder.

You are going to need to make a JavaScript folder - I called mine “js” - and multiple CSS files. One will be a core style sheet that contains all of the universal CSS styles, and then alternate sheets that contain the CSS that is swapped around.

Example setup:

• THEME FOLDER
  • style.css
  • Yellow Version.css
  • Red Version.css
  • Blue Version.css
  • Green Version.css
  • JS FOLDER
    • jquery.js
    • functions.js

The rest of this example will assume that you have that setup.

Setting up the CSS files

First off, you’re going to need some CSS files to play around with. Generally you would have a core css file that would contain all the styles that wouldn’t be affected by your swapper. Depending on how you use your swapper, this may or may not be the case. Some people want to totally alter the website with their swapper; I just wanted a colour change.

Note: I’m not going to paste all the CSS I used to format the actual tiles, because my layout requirements will be different than yours. Set the CSS code up however you need to make your selector HTML - we’ll see that in a bit - look right.

So you have your core css file (style.css for Wordpress users). Do what you need to in that file and then put it away. We won’t be touching it very much. The only addition I put in my CSS files are the following:

.red {background-color:#FF3333;}
.yellow {background-color:#FBDC00;}
.green {background-color:#1FF900;}
.blue {background-color:#00CCFF;}

These four styles are in my core CSS file so that my swappers always have access to correct classes for them. What this means is that regardless of what CSS file is imported, the swapper tiles will always look the same.

Next up we have our swapping CSS files: Blue Version, Green Version, Red Version and Yellow Version.

Note: I use Yellow Version as my default, but that doesn’t come in for a little bit yet.

So in each one of these CSS files, I have the same selectors:

.specialBGColor {background-color:#FBDC00;}
a, .specialColourText, #left_bar .widget table th {color:#FBDC00;}
.specialTopBorder{border-top:20px solid #FBDC00;}

All of your swappable CSS files will have the same selectors with whatever colour differences you need. In my case The hex colours are going to change to whatever is appropriate for the file (yellow is #FBDC00, red is #FF3333, etc.) “specialBGColor” is basically a class I apply to anything that is going to have a swappable background. I also have a “speciallTopBorder” that does something similar, and some selectors for links and table headers to change their colours.

All of these swappable CSS files should be in the same directory. Since I am using Wordpress my CSS files are all kept together in the same directory: the theme directory. I dislike the lack of separation but I’ll manage.

Once you’ve got all those set up we can move on to setting up the PHP functions

A dash of PHP

We need to add a little function to our functions.php file. The function will attempt to grab a value from the users cookie cache and return it. Pretty simple overall. In my case, if the cookie is not found, it returns a default string that is the URL to my yellow style sheet. As previously stated, the Yellow CSS file is the same.

Add the following to your functions.php file:

function getStyleCookie()
{
   if($_COOKIE["styleHref"] != null && $_COOKIE["styleHref"] != "")
   {
      echo $_COOKIE["styleHref"];
   }
   else
   {
      $url = bloginfo('template_url') + "/Yellow Version.css";
      echo $url;
   }
}

What this does is if it can get the cookies value - in this case “styleHref” cookie - this is explained in the JS - it will echo the value of the cookie. if it can’t it returns the default value of the Yellow Version.css location.

Note: I could have made the function a bit more universal by passing in the cookie name, but as I’m only using it for this one instance, I didn’t bother.

The basic markup

Alright lets set up the markup. Lets start with the header.

Locate the <head></head> section of your website (for Wordpress users, this is usually the header.php file).

You’ll need to find where you have any current CSS files linked and paste the following over or after the CSS tags. I say over or after because depending how much of this you’re following, you may already have a core CSS file that you don’t want to remove.

<!-- THIS IS YOUR CORE CSS FILE. IGNORE THIS LINE IF YOU ALREADY HAVE THIS IN YOUR HEADER -->
<link rel="stylesheet" href="<?php bloginfo('stylesheet_url'); ?>" type="text/css"/>

<!-- some dynamic stuff that won't make any sense yet, but it will later -->
<?php if($_COOKIE["styleHref"] != null && $_COOKIE["styleHref"] != "") : ?>
   <link id="altsheet" rel="stylesheet" href="<?php echo $_COOKIE["styleHref"]; ?>" type="text/css"/>
<?php else : ?>
   <link id="altsheet" rel="stylesheet" href="<?php bloginfo('template_url'); ?>/Yellow Version.css" type="text/css"/>
<?php endif; ?>

What this does: try and get the URL to the currently used CSS file and render that CSS file. If nothing can be found, default to the Yellow Version style sheet. This may seem repetitive given that the functions.php code we put in also compensates for a lack of cookie. I’m one for having backup plans, and this was mine. If you don’t like it, you can simply remove the entire else section.

Next up is the actual swapper markup. I’m going to paste a simplified version of mine, because as I stated before, your swapper will look different than mine. As long as the base HMTL is the same, this solution works. how you style things up is totally up to you.

<div id="colour_swapper">
   <ul>
      <li>
         <a href="javascript:;" class="green" title="Green Version">Swap to green</a>
      </li>
      <li>
         <a href="javascript:;" class="yellow" title="Yellow Version">Swap to yellow</a>
      </li>
      <li>
         <a href="javascript:;" class="blue" title="Blue Version">Swap to blue</a>
      </li>
      <li>
         <a href="javascript:;" class="red" title="Red Version">Swap to red</a>
      </li>
   </ul>
</div>

The important parts to this are two-fold.

First, the ID of the DIV element is going to be used in the JavaScript. I’m aware that the DIV isn’t really needed, but as I said, this is a simplified version of what I’m using, and as such I’ve actually stripped out additional elements contained in the DIV.

The second thing is the title of the ANCHOR items. The title will be used in the JavaScript to determine what CSS file to get.

Note: I’m aware that having a href of ‘javascript:;’ is a bad practice. In reality the href should offer a link that would manually post back the page, and have PHP  code that would look for that action and set the cookie that way. Doing so would allow for the swapper to work when JavaScript is disabled.

The JavaScript

Importing the required files

This is where everything is tied together and starts working.

First off we need to import some JS files. This solution imports JQuery, as well as a functions.js file that I created in a sub directory of my Theme folder called “js”. This was explained in the Setup section, but I’m still reiterating.

First we need to add a bit more markup within our <head></head> sections:

<script type="text/JavaScript" src="<?php bloginfo('template_url'); ?>/js/jquery.js"></script>
<script type="text/javascript">
   var templateUrl = "<?php bloginfo('template_url'); ?>";
</script>
<script type="text/JavaScript" src="<?php bloginfo('template_url'); ?>/js/functions.js"></script>

What we’re doing here:

1. Importing the JQuery framework.
2. Setting a JavaScript variable that contains the template_url value from Wordpress. This makes life easier when we get to the actual cookie setting.
3. Importing our functions.js file that will contain all of our functionality.

Note: I’m not a JavaScript expert, and part of me thinks that there should be a way to pass in the template URL to the functions.js import call. I don’t know and if someone can comment on this and explain, I’d be more than happy to refine my work.

Next up we need to add some functionality to the functions.js file!

Adding functionality

I’ll pase the code first and then explain it:

var $j = jQuery.noConflict();

$j(document).ready(function(){
   $j("#colour_swapper a").click( function(){
	var style_title = $j(this).attr("title");
	var style_href= "";
	var altSheet = $j("#altsheet");

	altSheet.attr({"href":templateUrl +"/" + style_title+".css"});

	style_href = altSheet.attr("href");

	var date = new Date();
	date.setTime(date.getTime()+(1*24*60*60*1000));
	var expires = "; expires="+date.toGMTString();
	document.cookie = "styleHref="+style_href+"; expires="+date.toGMTString()+"; path=/";
   });
 });

What the hell is going on:

1. Set JQuery to no conflict mode by assigning it to a different variable. I had to do this because of other plugins I use on my site. I maintain that this is a good idea when you are working in a plugin-heavy framework like Wordpress.
2. For every link found within the element with the id of colour_swapper attach a new click function
3. Set a variable to the value of the links title (Yellow Version, Green Version, etc)
4. Grab the element with the id of “altsheet” (in our case this is a link element in our header) and change it’s href value to the url of the new style sheet. This url is made up of the template URL and the name of the style sheet (title of the anchor)
5. Set a variable with the URL the new CSS file to be used.
6. Create a date variable, and set it to the future (exact day eludes me at the moment. Part of me thinks that it’s either 24 hours into the future, or 1000 days. I can’t honestly remember at this point).
7. Convert the date to a GMTString which is used in the creation of cookies.
8. Create a cookie, “styleHref”, that stores the URL of the style sheet used. This cookie is set to expire in the future, and will apply to all pages within the website (that’s what the “/” is for)

Whew! That took longer to explain than I thought.

Pulling it all together

So now that we’ve gone through all that, everything should work. To give you an idea on how it all comes together I’ll explain the general flow.

Flow

• While the page is loading, try and grab the cookie and set the secondary style sheet. If none is found, apply a default (Yellow Version)
• Import all of the JavaScript needed.
• User clicks on a style swapping link
• JavaScript figures out what style sheet to use
• Changes the secondary sheets href to the new CSS file
• Sets a cookie to store the URL of the new CSS file

Now if a user navigates to another page in your website, the first step will apply the change right off the bat.

Conclusion

I hope that this helps someone out there, and comments are more than appreciated to help improve the solution. I’ll try and refine the solution a little more when I have time.

Good luck and happy coding!

What to say about Blindness? I went and saw it with Theresa when It came out in Canada (October 3rd, if anyone is wondering). We had seen previews for it months ago, and the idea intregued us both. At that point it fell off the map to anyone who wasn’t actively trying to follow it.

Apparently it was shown at the Cannes film festival to mixed reception. Reading reviews online does little to ease ones trepidation towards the film. It seems that Blindness is a movie that has those who love it, and others that feel that it was “like looking into the sky and having sand poured into your eyes.” I’ve had to think long and hard about what I really felt about it.

It had all the makings for a great film: a good premise, a fairly strong cast calling, some impressive cinematography, an excellent musical score, and a fair amount of detail. So what happened?

The Good

Storyline

A neat storyline adapted from SOMEONES NOVEL, Blindness takes place in current day earth, where a strange and unexplained illness starts spreading. People start going blind - seeing white - even though they are otherwise perfectly healthy. Those afflicted are soon spirited away to an abandoned asylum to be quarantined. The main male lead, “Doctor” according to IMDB, is one of the afflicted and as he is carried off, his wife (Doctor’s Wife) dives into the truck. As the movie progresses and more and more people lose their sight, the Wife maintains her sight despite everyone around her being infected.

The story overall moved me in both good and bad ways. It depressed me considering how accurate some of the actions in the story really were. It scared me to know that people could and would react in the ways that they did. It inspired me that some could act with the courage required to hold people together.

Music

The musical score is subtle and at many tines haunting. It complimented most scenes and added that extra level that really drove things home. Some of the more disturbing scenes were really made that much more upsetting by the soundtrack and actual lack of music. I cannot explain further without giving things away, but trust me when I say that Blindness stepped over some lines with what they did.

The Bad

Plot devices

Everywhere. Every-frigging-where. If you know what you’re doing, you can pretty much read how the movie is going to go… mostly. If you read into scenes and see what’s going on, you know what will happen later on. I called more things than I really wanted to, which is always depressing. TV with a guy on it? Yup. Only person who can see finds scissors? Yup. The only person that can see finds a grocery store’s back room? Yup. The list goes on.

The plot devices were easily the second most annoying thing with the entire movie. They seem to be almost overly obvious sometimes, seemingly thrown in your face, just in case you missed it. Other seeming plot devices are brought up for no other point than to tie things back to some random page in the novel. Very depressing.

RANDOM SHIT WHAT THE HELL

What’s a good idea when your wife is the only person that can see - as far as you know of - in the whole world? Sleep with some random blind girl for no reason whatsoever! That’s right, random affair that is basically required so that Doctor and Wife can reconcile later. Let’s sing on the radio. Lets have random naked people. Lets Include shower scenes for no real reason. Let’s have more naked people walking down abandoned highways, making sure that they’ve never once thought of personal grooming.

I guess this also falls mostly into plot devices, but they were just so damned random that I feel they earned their own section.

Narration

The random and late introduced narration made me want to rip my ears off. Not only was 99% of it utterly pointless, but the other 1% of it felt rather self-indulgent and utterly fake. It was easily the worst aspect to the film by far. I don’t even need to explain further; the Narration was atrocious.

The meh

Cinematography

I want to say that all the shots and all of the effects used were applied with a delicate hand, accented the scenes, and were not in the least bit self-indulgent. I would like to say that, but some of the shots were… difficult to figure out, some of the shots totally done for the sake of the “sweet effect” and even more shots were difficult to follow.

Some of the effects were impressive - the kid walking into the table - was impressive, and I liked the use of a washed out colour-palette; it helped with the general bleak feeling to the entire movie. The over-use of the “blurry scenes” was hard to take.

The Acting

Some of the actors were good (Julliane Moore,Alice Braga), some were alright (Mark Ruffalo, Yusuke Iseya), and some that should have been good fell on their faces (I’m looking at you Danny Glover). Some of the characters felt so impressively stereotyped that you can’t help but cringe. Julliane Moore - The Doctor’s Wife - does a fantastic job in the movie; an important fact given that the entire more is basically centred around her trying to support everyone.

Overall I liked it, but not as much as I should have. It had all the fixings for a great movie, but fell on its face somewhere down the line.

6.5/10

So who out there uses Wordpress? I’ve been told it’s somewhat popular.

I myself am a fan despite it’s assault on the CPU and database. It’s fast, it’s simple, and so long as your website isn’t gaining huge traffic (or you’re paying peanuts for CPU usage and storage) than it’s a great selection. It’s fairly customizable, has a huge support and user base, and it’s just damned easy to use. I’ve been slowly getting more and more into customizing and extending what Wordpress can do out of the box.There’s more in the code than people think.

Recently I a friend of mine ripped a strip off of me for only using summaries in my RSS feed. He told me that he, along with other net-savvy users, didn’t have time to get teased by RSS summaries.

For those wishing to skip the lengthy buildup, here is a little table of contents:

• The Back Story
• Solution
• Explanation
• Installation and Usage
• Further Notes

The Back Story - To Summarize or not to Summarize

This is some what of a conundrum, as I want people to actually come to my site. On the flip side, I want people to read what I write. So I can force people to come to my site and gain page views, or I can increase my RSS readership. After careful consideration, I’ve opted to fix my RSS feed to display the entire content.

Here’s the issue: Until now, I’ve used ‘The Excerpt’ field in Wordpress. Basically this allows me to have a pretty excerpt instead of 55 characters truncated with a “READ MORE PLEAZE!” I use the custom excerpt for the top part of the post; the preview if you will. The problem with this is that I had to rip out the first couple paragraphs from the post area, add some HTML to make sure it worked, and then post. The result looked pretty, but had some unexpected side-effects on the RSS.

As it turns out, when you decide to use the EXCERPT field, that excerpt will become the summary in the RSS. That’s all well and good, but what If you want to have the whole post? One would hope that it would stitch the Excerpt and the Post together, but alas this was not the case.

I turned to the <!–more–> tag to assist me.

What they don’t document about the more tag is pretty much all the bitchy parts of it. When you use the <!–more–> tag, you split the content, allowing for the excerpt to be defaulted to all the content preceding the tag. This is great, except for how my layout works. You see The top have is the Excerpt, and the bottom half is the rest of the post. Just using the_content wouldn’t work, because I would be repeating all the pre-more content.

I thought about maybe using an hr tag, or reworking my entire layout, but I dismissed those due to the complexity of the markup. My only option was to carve into Wordpress itself. I first checked Google to see if anyone had come up against what I was facing. As it turns out people have asked the question, but no one has posted the answer.

I am fixing that right now.

Getting the Pre and Post <!–more–> content separately

Here is my solution, in full:

function the_formatted_pre_more_from_content ($body)
{
$returnVal = get_the_formatted_pre_more_from_content ($body);
if ($returnVal !== FALSE)
echo get_the_formatted_pre_more_from_content ($body);
else
the_excerpt();
}

function get_the_formatted_pre_more_from_content ($body)
{
$moreTag = ‘<!–more’;
$content = FALSE;

$morePos = stripos($body, $moreTag);
if ($morePos !== FALSE || $morePos > -1)
$content = substr($body, 0, $morePos);
else
return FALSE;

$content = apply_filters(’the_content’, $content);
$content = str_replace(’]]>’, ‘]]>’, $content);

return $content;
}

function the_formatted_post_more_from_content ($body)
{
echo get_the_formatted_post_more_from_content ($body);
}

function get_the_formatted_post_more_from_content ($body)
{
$moreTag = ‘<!–more’;
$content = FALSE;

$morePos = stripos($body, $moreTag);

if ($morePos !== FALSE || $morePos > -1)
{
$content = substr($body, $morePos + strlen($moreTag));
$morePos = stripos($content, ‘–>’); // reuse variable
if ($morePos !== FALSE || $morePos > -1)
$content = substr($content, $morePos + 3); // strip off rest of more tag
}
else
$content = $body;

$content = apply_filters(’the_content’, $content);
$content = str_replace(’]]>’, ‘]]&gt;’, $content);

return $content;
}

Explanation

The two important functions here are ‘get_the_formatted_pre_more_from_content’ and ‘get_the_formatted_post_more_from_content’. Long names, I know, but at least their mission is clear.

The other two functions ‘the_formatted_pre_more_from_content’ and ‘the_formatted_post_more_from_content’ pretty much add a bit of logic and echo the content automatically. I chose this naming structure and function structure to emulate what is already in Wordpress (e.g. ‘the_content’ versus ‘get_the_content’).

Installation and Usage

To use this code, add it all to your functions.php file of your theme. I’m sure I, or some other enterprising person, could turn this into a plugin, but at the moment I don’t feel it’s warranted.

All of the functions take one parameter: $body.

When you call these functions you must be in The Loop.

example usage: <?php the_formatted_pre_more_from_content($post->post_content); ?>

explanation: This call will display the content preceding the <!–more–> tag.

example usage: <?php the_formatted_post_more_from_content($post->post_content); ?>

explanation: This call will display the content proceeding the <!–more–> tag.

Further Notes

Note the $post->post_content that is passed into the function. This exists automatically when you are in The Loop. This will pass all of the posts content to the function without any formatting. The only thing that isn’t straight text - conveniently - is the <!–more–> tag. As a result the content becomes fairly straight forward.

As of right now you must pass $post->post_content to the functions. I tried to do it without passing the value, and they don’t seem to pick up the value.

I opted for using a substring functionality as opposed to an array split function simply because it was 2 am when I finally got this going. I don’t know which is more efficient, so someone who is more knowledgeable in PHP can comment on this and state which is better.

I only search for ‘<!–more’ because according to the tag documentation, there is text that can follow the MORE that changes some functionality. As a result, I have an additional if statement in the get_post function that will detect for the end of the tag and substring the content again to trim that out.

I hope that this helps out some people who may be in a similar boat as I was.

Recently, I found an all-classical FM station broadcasting out of Toronto that I can actually listen to in Brantford, Cambridge, and Kitchener-Waterloo. This may not sound like anything impressive - who even listens to FM radio anymore - but if you have ever tried to listen to Toronto-based radio in those areas, you would know what I’m talking about. There is something about this strip of land that just destroys radio signals.

Regardless, since I’ve found this station, I have yet to change it back to the others that I listen to. Classical 96.3FM does an amazing job of not only featuring brilliant classical music, past and present, but also features spots like “Sunday night at the Opera”, “The Greatest Music Of All Time…” and spoken poetry. How can you not love this?

Though I feel their website could use a little information architecture - It’s rather busy and cramped in some places- they offer a surprising amount of content for a radio station website. They have an online listening section as the Internet radio is all the rage now, and even the “What Was That Piece” list: a minute to minute feature of every song they’ve played throughout the day and the entire week previous.

I must also mention that though they play the typical classical music, they also feature some fantastic choice music, moving opera pieces, and even arrangements from movies (Lord of the Rings, Forest Gump, and Star Trek to name a few). I actually got home and sat in my car for an additional 6 minutes to listen to the end of Misere Me, Deus by Gregorio Allegri, a moving choir piece. The best part is that I have no idea who that is yet, but thanks to the station and their website, I can find out.

If you’re in the mood for some audible culture, Classical 96.3FM is a station to tune into. If you aren’t in the Toronto area, attach yourself to their Internet radio player.

P.S. be warned: All of the personallities they have working there can hypnotise you with their voice. Every damned one.

When a dad beats up his daughter, he does not necessarily go to jail. But when a guy beats up a dad for beating up his daughter, they both go to jail. It is very confusing.

Perry’s Gram used to say that the L in his name stood for ‘Lucky’, and he is just that. While playing the lottery, which he did every week, Perry finds himself 12 million dollars richer. Now everyone wants to be his friend, his family, who never talked to him otherwise, wants him to hand it over to a family trust.

Perry, with the guidance (of a sort) of Gram, his friend Keith, his boss Gary, and Cherry the Convenience store clerk, Perry slowly works to improve his life. He starts working through his lottery list which includes a big tv, a trip to Hawaii, Fixing up Yo (Keiths beaten up Toyota Truck), and so on.

He starts moving up at his job (a local fishing store) by giving good advice to the owner, and helping the sales grow. He gains respect from those he works with, as well as the locals. As his family applies more and more pressure on Perry, he decides what to do with the money.

I didn’t like the writing style of this book. I tried and I tried, and even now the writing still bugs me. I know it’s supposed to be written as a narrative from Perry, but it’s just so … simple. Things are repeated multiple times, the sentences are short and mundane, and there are no less than a bajillion references to “they would not like that.” I refuse to explain that further. If you read the book, you’ll know what I’m talking about. The chapters are short and much of the story is … boring. There’s a lot of filler in which the nuggets have to shine through in order to be recognized.

Having said all that, I enjoyed Lottery. It’s not ground-breaking, nor will it win any awards in my book. It isn’t going on my favorites list by any means, but I liked it all the same. It’s a real underdog feel-good everyone gets theirs sort of story that you just want to read sometimes. It made me laugh, it made my sad, and it made me smile. It hooked me by the end, and that’s the important part. Once I got past the fluff, there was a really good story beneath it all.

If you’re in the mood for an underdog book, this is the one to read. Everyone gets what they deserve, it makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside, and it comes with one of the best hedgestone message ever: “Don’t be smart”

6/10

Once I got into the real world I drove a crappy car, because I couldn’t afford a nice one with the crappy pay from my crappy job. I barely even got the job I had, and only because the shear mass of my pathetic life weighed down on my bosses conscience so much that it’d have been like kicking a three-legged puppy while it was down. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job and the people I worked with. It was just crummy pay, which resulted in the crummy car.

I did manage to move out on my own, but much like my car, my place wasn’t exactly fantastic. The roof leaked, the tap leaked, the shower leaked… pretty much anything that could leak, did. On top of that, it was above an Indian fast-food joint. This resulted in everything I owned smelling a tad too strongly of every kind of curry and spice known to man, and all at the same time. It had one window, and it was small. Really small. Insanely, stupidly small. I paid too much rent for it, but I was too much of a sucker to say anything.

I hadn’t kissed a girl until I was 24, and I won’t even bother embarrassing myself further by going into the details of my non-existent sex life.

Suffice it to say, I was pathetic in every possible way. I was the definition of ‘last place’.

Then I met Kam.

Kam was a girl. Kam was a girl I met at a coffee shop while waiting in line in a coffee shop to buy a coffee that was far too exotic and far too expensive for me. I had had a rather good day at work, and I felt like treating myself. She was in line behind me, though I only found this out after I had bought my way-to-expensive drink.

As I turned around, our eyes met.

I was in love, simple as that.

As I walked past her, I knew that she was ‘The One.’ I had to talk to her. I had to talk to her and find out her name and what she likes and what she hates and if she had pets and if she liked to read. There were a million other things I wanted to ask her, but at that moment I slipped on a wet tile and went down like a sack of potatoes.

—

When I came to, I was still on the coffee shop floor; my coffee raising the price of the tile that it had spilled on, and many a gawking person hovering over me. Kam actually had the decency to try and help me up. It took a couple tries as I was slipping far too much. She told me to sit still because I was bleeding, and it would probably be best to get a doctor to have a look at me. I’m pretty sure I agreed, but the whole thing is a little hazy. I remember asking her name (Kam), but after that I forget. From what I gather I passed out.
—

When I came around again, I was sitting in a gurney. Kam was sitting there, as worried looking as anything but hadn’t noticed I was awake. I managed to steal a couple moments to appreciate her.

She wasn’t the cutest girl in the world, but she had a charm about her that blew me away. Just looking at her nearly brought me to tears, though that could have been the endorphins wearing off. Time slowed as I took every part of her in: her eyes, her hair, her skin, her mouth, even the way she sat. Everything about her was breath-taking.

Then the doctor came in, and time resumed it’s normal speed. He used some of that faux ‘trauma doctor charm’ and said that he was glad to see me conscious. Not exactly a high bar, but it was good enough for him. He asked Kam what happened as he didn’t trust me to retell the tale. He had a look at my head and said that I was indeed going to need a couple stitches. He left for a moment, and returning with a nurse in tow, he told me to turn around so he could “patch me up.”

When the doctor had finished stitching me up, which took a couple tries because apparently my scalp rejects local anesthetic, he told me that I’m lucky I didn’t have a concussion and that my friend was smart to call paramedics. With that, he disappeared through the doorway to treat some other person with minimal enthusiasm.

Kam asked me if I was okay, and I asked her if she wanted to go get something to eat.

I didn’t expect myself to say it. Asking her that showed way more confidence than I actually had. I still blame the fall to my momentary lapse of Loserdom. She was so blind-sided that she actually agreed! My first date in years, and I got it from a trip to the hospital.

If only I had known it was that easy.

—

We walked to a little diner near the hospital, because neither of us had transportation. I had ridden in the back of the ambulance, and apparently she had as well.

We started to talk, awkwardly of course. I asked her about herself, if she had pets, if she read, and about three percent of all the questions I wanted to ask her. In turn she asked me similar questions, and we ended up having a lot in common. It was at this point that my previous feeling of The One had been confirmed. I had to be with her, and that was that.

Finding a diner, we went inside and got some late breakfast. We finished dinner, and I asked her whether I could see her again in a less hospital-related way. In a shocking turn of events she said yes, and I nearly choked on my much-less-expensive coffee. She thought I was cute in an awkward, nerd-next-door sort of way. I decided to take this as a compliment and asked her for her number. She scrambled through her overly-large purse and dug out a pen and paper. She scribbled her number down, handed it to me, and then somehow managed to flag down a near-by taxi.

This girl was magic.

I walked the 43 blocks home.

—

Our first date is something that was so wonderful, so pure, that it will forever be burned into my memory. We met at a park half-way between our homes. I brought a picnic basket filled with the nicest foods I could afford. Granted that didn’t really add up to much, but as Kam put it, “It’s the thought that counts, silly.” I can believe in that.

We met with it feeling almost like it was the first time all over again. We walked down a wide path surrounded by trees, both of us afraid to start talking. Mothers with strollers would walk past us, giving us knowing looks. Children would run blindly past us oblivious of the awkward air that they too would have to deal with when they grew older. I listened to the world, trying to glean some knowledge from the winds and the trees and the dirt.

She broke the silence by asking me how my day had gone, and told me about hers. I couldn’t trust myself to talk much, so I listened. I didn’t mind being the silent one since It’s something I’m used to. No one bothers to pay attention to me, so I end up being a listener anyways. She was thankful for someone who was such a good listener. Who would have thought that being ignored for a good portion of your life would finally pay off?

When we came to a nice clearing, I set up the picnic and we sat down to eat. The sun was just moving through the trees providing us with a semi-shade, and the wind blew through the leaves softly, creating music that you can only hear in your memories. If the day could have been any more picturesque, there would have been little ragged mice with violins playing to the side, tears in their eyes.

As we ate, I made it my mission to sit beside her. Juvenile I know, but I didn’t have much experience at this. Back to basics and all that. My self-induced mission took roughly 2 hours of eating, drinking and conversation, all the while my minds wheels turning on how to find any excuse to move closer. She either didn’t mind or didn’t notice; I assume she knew what I was doing but let me do it. She was always so understanding; she could read me like a book.

I made her laugh, and she made me smile. I told her jokes that I had heard, and she told me about her life, and the little things that made it special to her. I told her she was special, and so special things naturally came to her. She blushed, and I blushed, and we sat there on the ground silently competing for who closer match the shade of an apple. This would be later be my fondest memory within what is already my fondest memory.

As the sun started to set amongst the trees, and the winds started to cool, we opted to pack it in for the day. If I had had it my way, we would have sat there until the ends of the earth. She made everything brighter and more wondrous. She opened my eyes to all the little things I never appreciated. Her laughter was music, and her smiles fought the sun.

We packed the food and the wrappers; the forks and the plates. I folded the blanket we sat on and stood up. We walked back to the entrance to the pack in silence, listening to nature sing us to the end of the date. The air was no longer awkward, but full of magic and a creeping joy. I would have jumped and clicked my heels if I hadn’t been sure that I would have fallen right onto my face. I opted for allowing my insides to vibrate in happiness.

When we were parting ways, I stumbled over myself asking of she’d had a good time, if she was happy, and if she’d like to go out again. I know I got all three questions out but they may have all been one word. She laughed, put her finger on my lips and shushed me. She brushed her hair behind her ear and leaned towards me. Before I knew what was happening, she was kissing me. This soft, electrifying, burst of joy. It wasn’t a hard kiss, or even a long kiss, but I returned it, and for a moment in time, everything in the world was right.

We separated, the world returning to normal. I watched her walk out of the park and hail another taxi.It was only after I watched the taxi leave that I had no idea if I would see her again.

I still think she did that on purpose to make me call her again.

—

After a couple months of dating, we were officially mad for each other. We had done all the stupid cuddly stuff that hideously cute couples do together: going to the beach, going to carnivals as I spent way too much money wining her a stuffed animal (I’m not a very good throw or aim), watched the night sky, the whole lot.

We were together whenever possible.

The best part about it was that I didn’t feel like such a loser when I was with Kam. She was so cute and smart that by simply being around her, I felt smarter and cuter and not as much of a loser. She helped me find a nicer place, helped me find a better car for the same money, and even convinced me to ask for a raise at my job. She turned my life around, little by little.

In return I gave her the only thing I could offer: myself. If she ever needed help with anything, I was there. If she needed laundry picked up, I was already on my way. If she needed someone to call in sick to work for her, I was on the phone. Whenever she needed to cry about something, I held her like it was the end of the universe.

We were in love like it was the only thing that mattered.

—

Eventually things got more… intimate. After dating for nearly a year, our occasional snogging had been pushed further and further into an adult-oriented scenario. I’m not going to gloat about it or release any sullen details because I don’t need to. Our love was progressing physically as it was mentally.

One night after going for an evening walk and getting ice cream (again, very sickly cute couple) we came back to my place and things got a little more serious than usual. We made it onto the bed, and after some tossing and turning, It happened.

It was wonderful, magical even. All of our emotion and our love was concentrated into that one moment, and for a split second we became one person. I know it sounds corny, but that’s honestly how I’d felt at the time.

As we lay in bed after, we just looked at each other for a while. Things were different now; we’d crossed that line and there was no going back. This wasn’t like a one night stand (which I had never had, thank you), or a fling. This was the real deal. As our eyes stared into each other, I asked her if she’d like to move in with me because I wanted nothing more than to wake up to those eyes every morning.

She started to cry, punched me lovingly on the chest, and called me a ‘sappy idiot.’ I just smiled and said “If you want to call me that, that’s fine. Just say yes.” And you know what? She did. Between her happy sobs, she smiled at me and I knew that I had achieved the one goal I had ever set for myself. I would be with this girl forever. I’ve managed not to screw everything up, and now she’s going to be with me forever.

We slowly fell asleep holding each other, and I cherished that moment more than anything else in my life.

—

Then I woke up. I was laying in a gurney. I looked around and found that I was alone in the room. I had an I.V. stuck in my arm and to my shock, I found myself in hospital clothing.

Suffice it to say, I started to panic.

Just then a nurse came in and gasped when she saw me failing around. She ran out of the room, and moments later burst back into the room with a short, Asian man whom I learned was a doctor.

“My my,” he said “Not too often people pull through after an injury like that.”
“I’m sorry, what? An injury like what?” I had stammered, now freaked out well beyond any normal scale.
“Your head wound. You may not remember but you had a nasty fall and cracked your head open. Luckily someone called 911, and you were rushed here.”

My mouth went dry. “When was this?” I squeaked.

“Oh about… let me check your charts.” He flipped through the clip board hanging from the end of my bed, “about … 37 days ago? So a little over a month?”

A month. I had been unconscious for a month. I had been laying in that bed, in a coma, for just over a month. Everything I had thought was real wasn’t. I didn’t have a nicer place, a nicer car, or a raise at my job. I hadn’t done sickly cute couple things. I never won any stuffed animals. I had never been to the diner.

I cried then. I cried like I had never cried before nor have i cried like that since. I shook the gurney with my sobs, my insides crashing about my chest. My nose ran and I gasped for air. I cried as my world ended.

I never met Kam.

I never did meet her. I went to that same coffee shop every day for months, but never saw her again.

I could deal with having a crappy place, a crappy car, and a crappy job. I could deal with being a loser with no hand-eye co-ordination. How could I deal without Kam? I loved her.

I still love her.

And I can still feel her when I fall asleep.

I understand that the tactic they use - which I shall explain- is a common one, but that in no way makes it right. By doing what they are doing, they are negating all of the good user experience I had while I was using their facilities.

They won’t let me leave

well that’s not entirely true…

They are making it impressively inconvenient for me leave

Brilliant strategy of you’ve got someone by the credit card, but it’s a horrible move. Try to follow my logic on this one, and feel free to comment on whether I’m an invalid or not.

When I signed up, I wasn’t pressured

They showed me around, answered all my questions, and then told me I could come back anytime if I was interested in signing up. I ended up signing up that day, as I liked what I saw and liked the staff. It far surpassed any of the other gyms I had looked at, and I was happy to join with them.

I signed some papers, wrote off my soul, etc. etc.. Everything was par for the course.

I used the facilities, and I liked them

Things were clean and maintained. The patrons were nice, followed the rules, and generally got along. I never had a complaint, though I did overhear one of a lady being upset that another lady was wearing a belly top of sorts (this was against the dress code.)

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that they had a respectable dress code. No scantily clad women or men. This was a place for working out, not gawking.

I got lazy, and stopped going

Yup, all me. I got lazy, fell out of practice, and eventually stopped going. I was still paying for the gym though, despite my never going. That’s no ones fault but my own. I was under a contract with them and I had to wait a while before I could quit.

I finally got around to quitting, or so I thought

I walked into the gym that faithful day, and told them that I wanted to cancel my membership. “No problem,” said the helpful desk girl, “Just mail this paper with your email on it to the head office. They will then send you an email confirmation and you can cancel.”

Wait, what? Mail? You mean that thing with the paper and the stamps and the envelopes? That thing you do with Santa? Seriously?

Seriously.

Well, that’s ridiculous. I’m sure I can just go online or something to do this. They had a way to sign up for an account, so there should be a way to cancel it in the same area right?

Wrong.

This is where things went down hill for me. I created an account (which required a phone call as some of my internal data was missing, causing the validation to fail), and looked around for a ‘Stop Payment’ or ‘Cancel Account’ or something. There was no link to be clicked, no button to be pressed, no email to be sent. The only way to cancel your account was to mail in a paper, which you could print from the website, to their home office on California.

What’s wrong with this picture?

They did such a good job of nabbing me, of keeping me happy and content, of making sure my opinion of them was that of ’sunshine from the butt’ proportions. Why would they drop me on my ass when I want to leave? Now all the good things they did for me are forgotten, and all I can say is what a bitch it is to cancel my membership.

Lesson: don’t burn bridges

They have, whether intentionally or not, burned a bridge with me. Not only do I want to cancel my account with them (I’m working on it, I promise) but now I want to tell everyone about how much of an ordeal it is to cancel said account. I’m not going to say how wonderful their places are, or how considerate their staff may be; I’m going to remember the freshest experience first: dropped on my ass.

If you’re going to try and screw people out of money, fine. I can’t stop you, because that’s just how a lot of businesses operate and I’m not one to comment on that. I’ll leave the business commentary to those who know what they’re talking about. What I’m trying to get across is a simple usability exercise: If you make everything from start to finish as simple and easy as possible, that’s what I will tell people.

Had the gym made it simple to cancel my account, they may have lost out on my 40 dollars a month. They would have also gained a person who would spout out their greatness to anyone willing to listen. I liked that gym, but I will no longer recommend them for this reason.

To summarize: Be nice from start to finish. Even when people are leaving you, wave them goodbye, don’t slam the door on their ass on the way out. Those people have mouths.

Bonus Lesson: Have a point of contact

If you visit their website, you’ll find that the only way to contact them is via a non-800 phone number, within set hours. No email, no contact form. What’s the point of a website with online user registration, when you can’t even email the company?

He’s confounded at the situation. One second she was wrapped about his arm, snuggled up tight and secure; the greatest feeling in the world, so far as he can tell. How quickly that was shattered, like a delicate glass so unceremoniously thrown to the ground, the peace was splintered into a million shards; irreparably damaged. He didn’t see it coming, that’s for sure. He didn’t even say anything this time, though maybe that was the problem. Maybe he didn–

She grabs him by the wrist, and ungraciously wrenches him from his contemplation. Her nails are digging into his wrist now and she doesn’t care. Let him feel the pain, maybe then they would be on the same page.

She’s just as confused as him, though. She got so upset so quickly that she forgot what she could have been so enraged about. Tears glisten in her eyes like the gleam of sunlight refracted from a stiletto, beautiful yet undeniably dangerous. She can’t back down now. If she did, she would be wrong. She would be showing weakness. She would be vulnerable, exposed for him to see the real her. She wasn’t ready to do that; not for him. Not for any man. She had done that before, and the ending had resulted in her heart being ripped into gruesome confetti, thrown about in a parade of her own sadness. No, he didn’t need to see her like that. He wouldn’t see the inner-most her. He didn’t deserve that from her. She had to keep up this embarrassing tirade, losing face with all these strangers that didn’t even know her, doubtfully even cared. She had to keep going, she just ha–

He removes her taloned, manicured nails from his wrist. He’s wincing against the pain he feels inside. The gashes on his wrist are nothing compared to the hurt his heart is now assailed with. He’s been through this before with her. He would fold, he always did so to save himself the trouble of dealing with the real problem and her issues. He always assumed she would open up to him in time. How much time does she really need though? She’s always so defensive and always seems to have a penchant for rivaling the tectonic plates for the damage she could, and invariably would, cause. This wasn’t the first time this happened, but this would be the last. His heart felt like an old rug: worn down, stained with one to many accidents, and showing wear from too many verbal beatings. He can do better then this, and he knows it.

She’s sobbing now. She always did so when he started to show spine, to show promise of being an actual man. She wasn’t ready for that yet, and she knew that the tears would give him pause. Stop him in his tracks better then any physical chains could do, they always had. The tears run down her blotchy cheeks, forging yet another trail of deceit down the fabric of their relationship. She needed him. She knew it. She’d never tell him that though, and so the tears flow slowly, in a sickly majestic rivulet.

He’s looking away now. He never could face her tears, it made him feel terrible whenever he even thought of it. This time was different, it had to be. Enough was enough. This was it, and he knew it. This time it will end differently. This time he would tell her what he felt, how he felt. He glances at her and sees the tears. He wavers for a moment. It feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice with no visible bottom. Then it happens. It starts from his heart, bursting forward like a dam in a storm that cannot be held back by mere bricks and mortar. It climbs up his throat and he can’t stop it, wouldn’t stop it if he could. This needed to happen, for both of them. It explodes from his mouth in a quiet hurricane of words and feelings. Both intertwined with such reckless abandon that neither can be distinguished from the other. He screams at her without screaming, he assaults her with his indignities without volume. In reality, his voice is barely above a cracked, sobbing whisper, but his ears can barely take the tumultuous thunder that is his agony. His words a compilation of his malformed feelings for her.

She’s stunned. This was wrong, so very wrong. He was supposed to break down and apologize, he was supposed to beg for forgiveness, and he was supposed to fold like a cheap hand in poker. This was wrong. Instead of her coming out the victor of this senseless battle, she is now beset by a wall of truths. She can’t tune out what he’s saying; her body has betrayed her. Her ears force her to listen to all that she has wrought and it twists her insides in a manner more becoming of a neglected blender. She’s losing, and there is nothing she can do this time. Her tears glisten to a man blind to her sorrows. Her voice falls on the ears of a man deafened from one too many audible assaults. She’s lost.

He turns from her, having said his peace. There is nothing left in this carcass of a relationship. Let the carrion feeders make short work of what was left of that derogated past. He was done with this atrocious mess. He was done with the agony. He was done with her.

She wouldn’t let it end like this. How dare he walk away from her, leaving her like this? She won’t allow it! She reaches out and grabs his arm, turns him around with a strength borne of her scorn. She would set him straight. She would make him feel her pain.

He glares at her. She disgusts him now, and he won’t put up with this anymore. He didn’t deserve it, and wouldn’t take yet another serving of a dinner long gone rancid.

She slaps him with the back of her hand, putting all her frustration behind it, all her malice behind it. Everything she had, she put into that one connection. He stumbles, being so unprepared for the blow. He catches himself and stands tall. She goes to slap him again, but he’s faster. He doesn’t care what kind of scene he’s in now, nor does he care about the bystanders. He winds up and returns the unwelcome gift to her just as righteously.

She hits the floor, stunned. He hit her, and she couldn’t bring her mind to comprehend it. He was so kind and sensitive. He was everything she wanted and needed, and yet she had brought him to that.

He’s shaking. The urge to vomit valiantly tries to overwhelm him, but he manages to maintain a shambling semblance of composure. He turns around and walks out her life. Out of the life he knew. He holds his cheek and smiles. That was that for him. The final curtain has drawn for this tragedy, and his part in the play was over. He could move on and he would move on; he deserved that. She deserved that

She’s shaking. He was gone, and she was left with nothing. The bystanders watch her as she sobs to no one and nothing. She weeps for herself. The final curtain has drawn for this tragedy, and her part too was over. She could move on but wouldn’t. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of moving on. He didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve that.

Then the bystanders lose interest and move on. They didn’t deserve that.

So where to begin? I’ve started school, though it’s only frosh week so that doesn’t count. I’m liking Mohawk College more than Conestoga in terms of the faculty. Not that Conestoga’s was bad, but the staff at Mohawk really seem to give a damn. These teachers actually seem to want to help me out, especially since I’ve been working on switching from one stream to another. The campus (Brantford - Elgin) feels like a high school for grown ups - I said the same about Conestoga - and I’ve come to the decision that colleges must look like bigger high schools. Only Universities can have shiny arty architecture, and nice stuff.

All that aside, I think I’m going to enjoy my two years at Mohawk. They’ve already done a far better job making me like them than Conestoga ever did. We’ll see how I feel y the end of the two years, but if they keep this up I’ll be a happy camper.

To segue into something totally unrelated I’m rocking the Avenue Q soundtrack pretty hard right now. If people have a chance to see this in theaters, please for the love of all that is sacred and pure, do so. It’s so god-damned fantastic that words fail to articulate how amazing the show is. Full of rough humor, puppets, and topics that land impressively close to home, it’s worth every penny. Listen to it.

SUBJECT CHANGE.

I’ve been doing some small changes around the website, if anyone has noticed. One change I’ve made is that my suggested reading is now being powered by Goodreads. I’ve made a shelf for my favorites on Goodreads and by parsing the RSS feed (thank you Wordpress) I’ve got my newest 10 constantly updating from the list. Saves me repeating effort, and ups my 2.0 web ePenis a notch.

I’ve also made the colour switcher a bit more obvious. The for squares in the top left corner of the layout actually do more than just look damned pretty. They actually change the colour scheme of the website. Apparently I’m the only person that actually knew this. I was sort of happy to have it be an easter egg for the site, but after some consideration I’ve opted to make it more obvious so someone other than me can enjoy it as well.

Feel free to click them at random. They are cookie-enabled so if you’re rocking cookies in your browser(s) my site will remember the preference and keep your color preference. It’s somewhat pointless, but there it is.

I’ve also got my resumé page up and running if anyone wants to take a look at that. Much like my current layout, it is a completely grid-designed, and I went for maximum contrast so there’s very little in terms of colours.

To end off this utterly random post, I’ll mention that today I bought a Wacom Bamboo. It’s pretty and black and I’m a fan of having a mouse and a pen to choose from. Having said that, I feel like such a stereotype by buying it and being in a Graphic Design program. It’s just so typical; all i need now is some black-rimmed glasses and a wicked designer beard.

It took me way too long to write this. I’m getting rather distracted tonight. Honestly, this took me hours. There’s no excuse for that. Well not a valid one.

Corey signing out.

“Take her home!
She’s wasted!
YAY!”

The Bad Idea Bears - Avenue Q

This man though, he had something about him that was unnatural. Not that he held any magical prowess, or that he was an imposing beast of a man. No, he is nothing more then a pick-pocket, good with a knife, but nothing spectacular. It was more in the way he carried himself. The way that despite the fact that, even now, as he walks towards the court where all of us are painfully aware that he will be sentenced to death, he walks with his head held high. Considering the charges lay against him, it will probably be a beheading in the main square outside the palace.

A shame really. Before the kings recent binge in the extinguishing of life, our city was the most pristine in the land. Truly a sight that never failed to rob one of their breath. Even those of us who had lived here all our lives could be moved to tears from the beauty of it. Those same people are still moved to tears today, but not from the weep of joy. It is the weep of a man who must watch as his lover slowly dies, while he can do nothing to help her or ease her pain. Tears of frustration, of helplessness, of such utter grief that one would think that the very gods had come down and cursed them personally. Maybe the gods have done just that to our city. Are we doomed to watch all that which we held dear slowly decay under the weight and stench of blood and gore? Did we bring this upon ourselves?

—

Just as most of us had assumed, the pick-pocket is to be sentenced to yet another public execution in the square. The reason of course, is treason. I find myself wondering recently if he and all the other rebels are really the traitors, or if it is we who still follow the king that are the villain in it all. We arrest the innocent; we kill them under the kings will, but is that will sound? Have any of them done what the King says they have?

Again he holds himself with that quiet grace that we all find so unsettling, but there is something different. His eyes no longer hold within them the same spark that was contained with such reckless abandon a short while ago. His eyes are cold now, hard. He holds his head high still, and refuses to look away to those who dare to stare him down. More then one guard has had to glance away for the guilt they feel building within their very being. The last weapon of a man condemned. Does he feel some sort of twisted sense of pleasure, of entertainment as everyone around him squirms?

It’s his calm that throws us all so harshly. This is what sets him apart from the others we’ve ‘contained’. They all either weep like a new born child who knows not their parents, or rave like a man who has glimpse the mind of a god, who spout out incoherent drivel at the best of times. Some even rip at the bars, the walls, even themselves in a blind rage at the thought of their life being cut so violently short.

Not him. He sits there humming a tune, or trying to converse with the guards as if nothing were the matter and that his being held here was but a mere accident that would be corrected within the hour. Still though, it’s his eyes. It’s all a pantomime I know, for as I watch him I see the cold sweat beading along his hairline. I see the tremor in his hand that he cannot seem to banish. I hear the crack in his voice he covers up with a cough. I notice how he constantly paces back and forth, always moving. So much so that I would think the man could be a river, should he ever become a part of the Earth.

—

The pick-pockets day has come. He has but hours left to live, and I chafe. I chafe for the fact that I feel he was doing nothing but trying to help the city he has come to love, much like the rest of us; much like I have. When I joined the King’s ranks, I did so with the romantic notion of protecting the city I had lived in all my life; the city I had come to love as dearly as any parent; the place that I called home. What happened to that I wonder? Have I been so drawn into the motions of the job that I have forgotten the reason I had joined to begin with? Have I, in my own small way, become no better then the raving King I so respected long ago?

Maybe insanity is contagious, and I am as sick as all the others.

I pull out the keys to the pick-pockets’ cell. For the first time, I take a look at that which have been the tool of so many peoples’ destruction. Cold, hard, every nick and crack is filled with grime, dirt; there are even spots of dried blood on some of them, the keys where the more… spirited… individuals were kept. They repulse me now, but they serve their purpose silently, without complaint.

I insert the key into the now rusting lock of his cell. The lock screams its outrage at its use, so seemingly unwilling to be a part of the horrors that it has been in the past. The cell door swings open, and there he is, standing. He doesn’t dive for the door, he doesn’t scream his outrage, nor does he weep like all the others. He stands there, so strong despite the weight of all that he knows is about to happen.

“Come along now, it’s time for you to go.” I state as I stand aside to let him escape from his cell, where I am sure he could barely breathe with all the dark thoughts that pollute the room. As we walk down the hall, I grab his meager possessions, and bring them along. “I’ll at least let you die in the same state in which you lived.” I mutter as we walk past the last check point.

He gives me a look that could break even the stoniest of hearts.

“Thank you. That is more then I would expect from his graciousness, the King.” Even as he says this, he cannot completely hide the contempt in his voice, nor the sneer that crosses his face. I don’t blame him; he has every right to curse the king. Most of us do. This whole city has that right.

We approach the door to the courtyard, and I see that for a brief instant, a mere iota of time, he falters. That spark in his eyes returns in a flash, and dissipates just as quickly. For that brief moment, he cannot believe what is happening, he doubts everything as it is happening. He wonders if it’s worth his very life, and in that same instant, he knows his answer.

He adjusts his shirt, smooths his hair, and prepares himself to die for what he believes in.

I open the door, and the cool demeanor he had himself so well entrenched in slips away. We’re in the entrance to an alley. Human refuse and byproduct fills the air with a nigh-ungodly sent. The heat of the day does little help other then to keep the air heavy, and the smell low. Those in the spires will never notice, to which their blissful ignorance only perpetuates.

“What is this?” He blurts out, his mouth agape. He looks around in wide-eyed disbelief, like that of a child entering a candy shoppe for the first time.

“My own redemption,” I say as I pull out the keys, the very embodiment of everything I had come to despise. “Take the keys, and go. Do what I… What all of us are too terrified to do. Fight for our city. Free it from the death march it seems so content to continue on with. I will not stand by as my home crumbles and turns in upon itself.”

That hard look has returned to his face, and his eyes betray no emotion. All I can see within them is a reflection of myself. That same look graces my own face.
We can hear yelling from down the hallway, and the scuffling of boots as those who have caught onto my plan race to stop that which is already too late.

“You’ll die, you know this right?”

“I made my choice. Take the keys and go.” I drop the keys into his hand, and he flees the scene with a speed born of fear, of exhilaration, of a man living on the grace of the gods.

“Let my choice be not in vain.”

The guards show up and run me down without a second thought, possibly without even a first. It may be all instinct at this point. They disarm me, and force me at sword-point to the kings’ court. The King screams his rages at me, his curses at me, all his hatred and malice at me. Were I any other man in that room, I would have had to turn my head from the shear detestation that emanated from the man in palatable waves. All his hate fell upon deaf ears though, and I return to him the stare I learnt so well from the pick-pocket. He accuses me in being in league with the rebels, and I have been for months, feeding them information. A complete and unnecessary action on his part as no one believed an acidic word that dripped from his frothing lips, and no one would challenge him anyways. Who would defend a man condemned?

Other then myself.

—

It seems my last day has come. I sit in the very cell that he was contained in. I found it to be fitting that we trade places so readily. None of the guards can look at me now, and those that do stare at me as if I am already dead. Many were one time friends, some from childhood even, but none will look at me. None will fight for me. I’m just another criminal to them now. Already I can hear the rumors in the air like a perfume of a love long past; bittersweet. It has grown to be a harrowing escape wherein the pick-pocket and myself fought our way through nine or ten guards, and ending with the pick-pocket abandoning me when I was caught. I won’t correct them, I’d rather the story grow into a legend to shake what they believe in.

The lock screams once more in bitter outrage at the system it finds itself in. The door swings open, and I am dragged to my feet. I shake off their grips and hold my head high, strong. I want nothing less then to be treated like the man that I am; a man of purpose, a man of dignity; a man walking towards his own self-imposed vindication. Suddenly I know how he felt. The feeling is like no other. A total calm, a resolve in what you are doing.

I hold myself with quiet dignity as they open the doors to the courtyard. So many times I’ve gone through these motions and it was all so routine, yet this is the first time I could feel everything. I could smell the stale sweat and blood in the air. I could hear the screams or hate and sorrow of those who came to watch. I can feel the wind as is teases through my hair, giving me one last moment of solace and care-free pleasure in my ever-shortening life.

I stand before the King now; two men: one holding all the power, and the other seemingly none. He reads off the charges laid against me and grants me leave to speak my last words, and I stare into his eyes with an intensity I didn’t know I possessed.

I stare into him for what seems like an eternity, though in actuality it could have been no more then a second or two. In that moment, we clashed. Our stares fought like two souls on a battle field who have everything to lose. I can have the satisfaction of knowing that that shook him. Never had he been forced to do that. Never had he been forced to look at the people he condemned in the eyes. Never had he been forced to see the evil he had become.

He blinked first, and we both knew it.

I turn to the people, who have gone quiet as they wait for me to scream my hatred, scream my injustice to them, at them, at the very world. I hold no malice though, no hate. I have no reason to scream, to rant and rave like a man possessed.

“I chose this path, and I stand firm upon its trail. I love this city as much as I could ever love anything, and I did what I felt was right for the good of the city. I would not change my actions were I given the chance to do so. I die a man of resolve, a man of dignity. A man no more, and no less then that of you and your protectors.” My voice rings out in the square. The world has gone silent. No creature stirs, no child wails, the wind too, has gone still. My voice echo’s like a penny dropped into a well; haunting, distorted, as it rebounds off of every surface, every facet of the city I so cared for.

Emerging from what seemed an eternity of agonizing silence, the world resumes from where it had stopped, and I am placed on the block that is already slick with the blood of others. How much of this blood did I assist in spilling?

I hear the executioner pace towards me. I turn my head to face him. He, like all the others, falters under my gaze. He doesn’t agree with this anymore then I do, yet he will do his job. I can respect that, and I should expect no less. I scan the crowd for nothing more then for something to do. There he is; the pick-pocket. He stands in the front row, and stares at me. No smile graces his lips, no cries of anguish escape his lips, yet I can feel his gratitude, hear it even as clear as if he here inches from me, talking. No one recognizes him, though he stands mere feet from guards. To them, he is just another street urchin.

I turn my head and glance one last time at the King. Gone is my respect for him, gone is the fear that he used to inspire in me. All that I feel for him, for everyone, is a deep sadness and a pity for what they have, do, and will have to endure. A smile breaks the calm of my face, and I see it shake him to the core. I see him notice for the first time that he has no power over me, that even as I die, I die a man devoid of his influence.

I hear the grunt of the executioner and the scrape of the axe across the pave stones. I see the flash of light at he raises it. I feel the blade tickle the hairs on the nape of my neck. So gentle, like the kiss of a lover gone a lifetime, and freshly returned, as if we had never parted. Just as quickly as it came, it left and I am left with a sense of complete serenity, all the doubt gone from my mind, all the guesswork of life has fled. The only thought left was ‘I’m about to die’ and my acceptance therein. My expression remains placid even as the axe that once had the touch of a lover rips through my neck with military-esque precision.

Actually, I did have one more thought. For in that last, fateful moment, the spark I remember so clearly from his face, that hint of doubt, flared in my eyes.

Would I die in vain?