meet
the creator...
My
name is trevor.
I
don't have any photos to put up on this site. lucky for you!
now,
on my computer, this shows up as a very hard-to-read handwriting font.
But, since I severely doubt any of you would have this particular font
installed on your machines, I can use it. Because I already know what I
said on my own web page. I can use a font that's nearly unreadable. You
may need something more legible.
Web
page design is a hobby of mine, and I'll be the first to admit, I'm not
that good at it. But, I enjoy doing it, and I like what I put up. YOu may
not like it. That's okay thou - I may not like you, so we're even.
I
was born in 1977. The year of Star wars. I grew up in a neighbourhood that
didn't become dangerous until i was old enough to appreciate it. My family
moved when the neighbourhood took a decidedly downward thrust. Gangs moved
in. we moved out.
I
spent the next eight years in the countryside, trying to get back to the
city. The quiet, the fresh air, and the miles of empty prairie only made
me long for the busy street outside my bedroom window at night. i grew
accustomed to the quiet. there was a railway crossing less than five kilometers
from the house, and the trains would blast their horns at all hours of
the night. That was my only escape from the quiet sounds of a house, and
a family, settling.
I
don't know how long it's been since my parents divorced. Time plays tricks
when I try and figure it out. sometimes I swear it was ten years ago if
it was s day, and then sometimes I wonder if it's even been that long.
it's strange when parents split up, because they show their weaknesses
to their kids, and in doing so, become human. Sometimes, every kid needs
their parents to be more than human. super human.
I
rebelled like every other teenager, thinking i was original, only to copy
every other teenager who had ever rebelled against their parents before.
Had I wanted to be individualistic, I would have rebelled by being a straight-a
student. But like Billy joel says... if you are, then you think too much.
I dyed my hair stoplight green, ran away from home, worked at the local
arena selling fast food in the basement to other concession workers on
their breaks. I shaved my head and went home. Things got better before
they got worse. then the divorce. I wondered if I had anything to do with
it for a while. Then I realized i was playing on the ego. This wasn't about
me. it was about my parents. I felt better about that, and then I felt
worse about it.
I'm
taking my journalism degree. Okay, it's actually an applied degree in communications,
but it's the same thing, only written longer. I like to write, about world
events, different people, different situations. I enjoy finding things
out, and then telling other people what I've learned. I'm like the small
child on the playground who collects shiny rocks, and then proudly shows
them off to other children. Sometimes they ooh! and aah! over my discoveries,
like it was a diamond. sometimes they laugh,, and tell me it's gravel.
The worst is when they refuse to look.
I'm
single, but not by choice. News is a demanding mistress, who tolerates
no competition. Hey, no one ever said life's a beach...
I'm
sick of people. most of the people I meet are insincere, abrasive, opinionated,
loud, obnoxious, and generally not pleasant to be around. I have few true
friends, but those whom I only barely tolerate think I enjoy their company
as much as the next. Maybe I should have gone into acting instead. I've
pretended to enjoy some people's company for years! I won't mention any
names, that would be rude... but those who are my friends know it.
This
web page is more for my own personal use than for anyone to actually call
it up at random. If you are actually reading this, I welcome you to the
site, but it wasn't intended for you to visit. that doesn't mean you have
to leave... I just wanted you to know that this is my page, for me. If
you find something on here that bugs you, I don't give a hoot. but thanks
for coming.
back
to yehaa!