a personal moment in the here and now

Cryogenically unfrozen...

2009-12-02T11:27:00.004-08:00

What year is this again?

Oh right, it's almost 2010 already. I can't believe how long I've been offline... I'm not just referring to this blog either, I mean in general. I've been hermitized for so long now, I'm unsure if I have any friends left. There is so much to write about and I'm excited to start this thing up again. Is anyone out there still? I know some of you used to receive pings each time I posted, but I'd be surprised if that actually still happened. Well, let's call this the 2010 beta test, shall we? I know, I know, it's not 2010 yet. But who cares? The way my life has been going these days, not to mention the onset of holiday madness, I'll be lucky to have more than one post this month anyway.

So there it is. Let me know if this reaches you.

Goodbyes

2007-05-07T11:31:00.000-07:00

This morning was very strange for me.

My dad left for Calgary at 10am, which is his usual biweekly stint; however, this time is different because I won’t see him again for about a year. Dad is going to work in Saudi Arabia and I haven’t even really talked to him about it. He’s not even sure of his departure date but it will be sometime in the next two weeks. I guess that’s just how the industry is—I should be used to it by now, as he’s been working internationally for over five years now and it’s the same every time, but I’m not.

I also said goodbye to a good friend who’s moving to Vancouver this afternoon. I did it in a really shitty way too, which didn’t manage to give me the closure that I wanted, or the well-wishing that she deserved. I don’t see her very often but now that she’s going, I feel that I should have made more of an effort to see her when I could. My life seems to be that way lately—full of change and not enough time to soak in the moments. I’ll miss your style, Olly, K-town doesn’t know what it had.

Finally, I’m saying goodbye to everyone else. Tami and I are leaving for our annual vacation today. I know I should be more excited but this morning has been more focused on other things. I imagine it’ll kick in hard like a narcotic as the plane takes off: that strange feeling as your mind begins to move faster than your body and the tingling beginning in the pit of the stomach and slowly traveling up your spine. You’re flying and no one can touch you now… even if you want them to.

Sliding standards

2007-04-25T10:11:00.000-07:00

As Horizon was the last place I worked, this news article terrifies me.

Oilsands Deaths

In my mind, actual safety standards on these large projects have taken a back seat to professing an image of safety and incidents such as this are the result. I saw an exorbinant amount of safety infractions at CNRL's Horizon site, but it became clear almost imediately that any outcry was ineffectual and fell on deaf ears.

I am saddened by this story. I only hope that it doesn't turn into a message of hate directed at the standards of temporary foreign labour when the real issue is that of CNRL ignoring their responsibilities: contractors should demonstrate an actual commitment to safety prior to their receiving of a contract. CNRL, along with many recent oilsands developers, opt to award contracts based on the lowest bidder. However, it is simple logic that a low bid exists because it has neglected certain aspects of the required standards. Unfortunately, as the most expensive aspect of a contract is labour, and focus on performing a task safely directly affects production, the results are wage and benefit cuts and the increased presence of safety programs which are mere facades and/or mimic pre-existing programs that may or not be suitable for the very unique tasks required in the oilsands environment. Incidents such as this will continue to occur if some very real changes are not realized in Canadian labour standards and those standards can not take a back seat to greed any longer. Our lives are much too valuable.

Thank you for listening... hopefully the major players in Canadian oil production start to also.

Finding the time...

2007-04-19T13:02:00.000-07:00

I got another disturbing email from my father today (did I rant once about this before... I can't remember). It's one of those mass forwards about immigration and the destruction of the American Dream. I doubt I'm alone in thinking that this is total bullshit and I'm posting it here for everyone to read along with the response I sent to my dad in the hope that he forwards that off to all of his office friends who send out this tripe on a daily basis. Here's the original email:

WHEN YOU FIND THE TIME....and it had better be NOW.... read this, and then re-read it. It probably is the most important "read" to come along in your lifetime...It could mean your life as you now know it. Please read it....understand it.....AND CIRCULATE IT. It won't be found in any media outlet...it's up to you....

We know Dick Lamm as the former Governor of Colorado. In that context his thoughts are particularly poignant. Last week there was an immigration Overpopulation conference in Washington, DC, filled to capacity by many of America's finest minds and leaders.

A brilliant college professor by the name of Victor Hansen Davis talked about his latest book, Mexifornia," explaining how immigration - both legal and illegal was destroying the entire state of California. He said it would march across the country until it destroyed all vestiges of the American Dream.

Moments later, former Colorado Governor Richard D. Lamm stood up and gave a stunning speech on how to destroy America. The audience sat spellbound as he described eight methods for the destruction of the United States. He said, "If you believe that America is too smug, too self-satisfied, too rich, then let's destroy America. It is not that hard to do. No nation in history has survived the ravages of time. Arnold Toynbee observed that all great civilizations rise and fall and that an autopsy of history would show that all great nations commit suicide.'" Here is how they do it," Lamm said:

"First, to destroy America, turn America into a bilingual or multi-lingual and bicultural country. History shows that no nation can survive the tension, conflict, and antagonism of two or more competing languages and cultures. It is a blessing for an individual to be bilingual; however, it is a curse for a society to be bilingual. The historical scholar, Seymour Lipset, put it this way: "The histories of bilingual and bi-cultural societies that do not assimilate are histories of turmoil, tension, and tragedy" Canada, Belgium, Malaysia, and Lebanon all face crises of national existence in which minorities press for autonomy, if not independence. Pakistan and Cyprus have divided. Nigeria suppressed an ethnic rebellion. France faces difficulties with Basques, Bretons, and Corsicans.

Lamm went on. Second, to destroy America, "Invent 'multiculturalism’ and encourage immigrants to maintain their culture. I would make it an article of belief that all cultures are equal. That there are no cultural differences. I would make it an article of faith that the Black and Hispanic dropout rates are due solely to prejudice and discrimination by the majority. Every other explanation is out of bounds.

Third, "We could make the United States a 'Hispanic Quebec' without much effort. The key is to celebrate diversity rather than unity. As Benjamin Schwarz said in the Atlantic Monthly recently: "The apparent success of our own multiethnic and multicultural experiment might have been achieved not by tolerance but by hegemony. Without the dominance that once dictated ethnocentricity and what it meant to be an American, we are left with only tolerance and pluralism to hold us together. Lamm said, "I would encourage all immigrants to keep their own language and culture. I would replace the melting pot metaphor with the salad bowl metaphor. It is important to ensure that we have various cultural subgroups living in America enforcing their differences rather than as Americans, emphasizing their similarities."

"Fourth, I would make our fastest growing demographic group the least educated. I would add a second underclass, unassimilated, undereducated, and antagonistic to our population. I would have this second underclass have a 50% dropout rate from high school."

"My fifth point for destroying America would be to get big foundations and business to give these efforts lots of money. I would invest in ethnic identity, and I would establish the cult of Victimology. I would get all minorities to think that their lack of success was the fault of the majority. I would start a grievance industry blaming all minority failure on the majority population."

"My sixth plan for America's downfall would include dual citizenship, and promote divided loyalties. I would celebrate diversity over unity. I would stress differences rather than similarities. Diverse people worldwide are mostly engaged in hating each other - that is, when they are not killing each other. A diverse, peaceful, or stable society is against most historical precedent. People undervalue the unity it takes to keep a nation together. Look at The ancient Greeks. The Greeks believed that they belonged to the same race; they possessed a common language and literature; and they worshipped the same gods. All Greece took part in the Olympic Games. A common enemy, Persia, threatened their liberty. Yet all these bonds were not strong enough to overcome two factors: local patriotism and geographical conditions that nurtured political divisions. Greece fell. "E. Pluribus Unum." From many, one. In that historical reality, if we put the emphasis on the 'pluribus'. Instead of the 'Unum,' we will balkanize America as surely as Kosovo."

"Next to last, I would place all those subjects off limits; make it taboo to talk about anything against the cult of 'diversity.' I would find a word similar to 'heretic' in the 16th century - that stopped discussion and paralyzed thinking. Words like 'racist' or 'xenophobe' halt discussion and debate.

Having made America a bilingual/bicultural country, having established multi-culturism, having the large foundations fund the doctrine of 'Victimology,' I would next make it impossible to enforce our immigration laws. I would develop a mantra: That because immigration has been good for America, it must always be good. I would make every individual immigrant symmetric and ignore the cumulative impact of millions of them."

In the last minute of his speech, Governor Lamm wiped his brow. Profound silence followed. Finally he said, "Lastly, I would censor Victor Hanson Davis's book Mexifornia. His book is dangerous. It exposes the plan to destroy America. If you feel America deserves to be destroyed, don't read that book."

There was no applause. A chilling fear quietly rose like an ominous cloud above every Attendee at the conference. Every American in that room knew that everything Lamm enumerated was proceeding methodically, quietly, darkly, yet pervasively across the United States today.

Discussion is being suppressed. Over 100 languages are ripping the foundation of our educational system and national cohesiveness. Even barbaric cultures that practice female genital mutilation are growing as we celebrate diversity. American jobs are vanishing into the Third World as corporations create a Third World in America - take note of California and other states - to date, ten million illegal aliens and growing fast. It is reminiscent of George Orwell's book 1984. In that story, three slogans are engraved in the Ministry of Truth building: "War is peace," "Freedom is slavery," and "Ignorance is strength."

Governor Lamm walked back to his seat. It dawned on everyone at the conference that our nation and the future of this great democracy is deeply in trouble and worsening fast. If we don't get this immigration monster stopped within three years, it will rage like a California wildfire and destroy everything in its path, especially The American Dream.

If you care for and love our country as I do, take the time to pass this on just as I did to you. Trust me NOTHING is going to happen if you don't.

And here's the email I sent out to my dad:

Oh boy. Where to begin?

I guess I’ll start with how this argument is problematic in that it paints a picture of diversity as a conscious plot to destroy America and/or the American Dream. First of all, the idea that millions of people in neighbouring countries are all intentionally swarming the border with the intent of taking over is completely preposterous. These days, the only borders I see being crossed with malicious intent are those being crossed by Bush and his warmongering buddies in the search of investment properties to expand the American empire. If anything, the notion of an "American Dream" is responsible for the idea that the grass is greener in America and that anyone can just come over and find economic success regardless of the opinion of the indiginous population... isn't that the underlying message of the cowboy/indian legacy? America: a land rich for the taking. Let's not forget that international lending groups such as the IMF or the World Bank determine global "progress" on a sink or swim model derived from US structures, creating an international panic/desire to Americanize. So can anyone blame the less fortunate populations/social groups of the world for desiring that which has been purported to be desirable on a global scale? That's the American Dream.

The language thing. Canada is multilingual, and although we have had our problems, we seem to be doing just fine. Our crime rate is lower than the US, and so is our unemployment rate. Tensions between differing language groups are unavoidable if they refuse to acknowledge one another. The only problem I have with the recognition of two official languages is that it simply recreates a heirarchy: in Canada, the large presence of slavic, asian, and local indegenous languages (just to name a few) are placed beneath French or English but at least we are making efforts to recognize these as important cultural markers. The fact of the matter is that without language, culture dies. It seems to me that the email's argument is contradictory on this point: it speaks about the prevention of America's cultural destruction, by rejecting the cultural values of others. Seems pretty elitist to me.

The acceptance of others is not dependent on an us/them dynamic. Just because one chooses to accept the values of another, it does not mean that she/he must surrender his/her own values. Harmonious relationships succeed because of the intermingling of ideas. The more lines/definitions/borders we draw, the more problems we will create. Which brings me to the idea of nationalism. What is a nation? It's an imaginary line on a map. Just because a bunch of bureaucrats got together 200 years ago and divied up the spoils of conquered land, doesn't make those boundaries anything but lines on a map. A line is a division separating one thing from another. In the case of nations, borders create a dynamic of conflict and an excuse to ensconce the industry of war. Another problem is that, historically, nations have always attempted to assimilate the many individual groups within their whole rather than allowing them to flourish. The result, of course, is the rise of internal conflict. Maybe that’s part of the process though, because conflict (internal or external) seems to be profitable for the US.

The author also talks about the creation of more and more classes within America as being a problem. Yes! But wouldn't it be more productive to spend more time trying to envision societies that are classless rather than trying so hard to entrench the current (and problematic) structure?

I wish I had more time to rip this thing up, because in my opinion it is hurtful and destructive in its message and there are so many other elements within this that are begging to be proven wrong. However, that’s the second time that my bell has been rung by Jehovah’s Witnesses this morning and I guess I need to go debate the inconsistencies within organized religion instead.

I don't even know why Dad sends me this crap; he's not American, and he's even got a dual citizenship, which is totally evil according to this thing. I really wanted to address that bit about the "Cult of Victimology" and the misnomer that all minorities feel victimized by every member of the majority populace, but I really did have the Watchtower flunkies on my doorstep ringing away madly. I actually spent almost an hour with the two ladies arguing about how their religion subjects them by positioning them as inferior to the male elders, how the notion that Jehovah punishes doesn't go with my vision of an understanding saviour, and my concern with the irrationalality of only allowing 140,000 MEN into heaven while currently boasting a flock of well over 6,000,000. Unfortunately, my efforts to bring them into the light were unsuccesful and they were not to be conformed. Maybe next time though... I'll keep trying.

Feel free to use the comment page here to apply your own critiques on the email. I'll welcome discussion on this one with open arms.

Pollenation...

2007-04-12T10:27:00.000-07:00

The standard patterns of my life have been interrupted for the past four weeks or so with the coming of spring. I enjoy the arrival of this season because, in all of it's glory, spring tends to kick everything in the ass and shout "Get out of bed and do something!" For me, this is the moment when the lethargy of winter comes to an end... the end of snowboarding season, and the beginnings of cycling. Accompanying the weather shift is the floral signification--tulips, azalias, everything is budding these days and not only does it kickstart the neverending cycle of yardwork that comes with home ownership (and marriage to Tami) but it also hits me in a whole other aspect of life in general... allergies.

I have been living on a daily dosage of Reactine, Chlor-Triplon, nasal sprays, and Kleenex for about a month now. Drugs store chains must just love this time of year. The funny thing is that the allergy season always seems to take me by surprise, maybe I just don't want to admit that my life can be so significantly altered by nature, but I usually suffer through without the aid of drugs until it becomes totally unbearable or embarrassing (whichever comes first). I think this particular time of year is the worst for me because along with the pollenation of various plantlife, the melting of snow allows various dusts and molds to rise freely into the air and freely attack the nasal systems of random passers-by. Also, because it's still early in the season, my budding young horticulturally-inclined wife will only put some plants outside during the day and brings them into the house overnight to protect them from the night chills, and as a result, the plants tend to contaminate my breathing environment somewhat.

The Lilac Chinese Lantern tree that is currently taking over our kitchen

This past week has also been interesting for me because Tami's parents just finalised the sale of their house, and have been staying here periodically while their business goes through. Now, I have nothing against their staying here at all, in fact, I enjoyed the opportunity to return the favour (as I had spent many a night in their house without objection when Tami and I were still dating). Our relationship isn't the stereotypical in-law/outlaw relationship that is so often portrayed by sitcoms as acidic or malevolent: I get along extremely well with Bernie and Fran and enjoy the time we spend together immensely. Unfortunately, the arrival of Tami's parents comes with some baggage other than their luggage... I'm talking about Sam and Chip.

Sam and Fran chillin' on our couch the night we returned from Peru

Samson (Sam for short) and Chip are Bernie and Fran's dogs. Sam is the Shar Pei that they have had for about nine years and Chip is the Border Collie that they recently acquired with the purchase of their new property in Cherryville. In case you don't see where this is leading yet, I'm horribly allergic to dogs--most animals, in fact, set my nasal passages running for the hills when in close proximity. Obviously, for short visits and whatnot, I deal pretty well with this problem; I'm not going to stop visiting people because they have pets or anything. The usual plan of attack is to just dose up heavilly before contact and things are fine. However, when the dogs were here last week, the prolonged exposure was really becoming difficult for me to handle, as allergic reactions are one of two athsmatic triggers for me. By the fifth day, I was inwardly excited to see my in-laws off, despite my enjoyment of their company. Which brings me to today.

After leaving on Tuesday morning, they're coming back tonight for the weekend again and I find myself a little on the anxious side. Again, this is paradoxical, as I can't say enough how much I enjoy their visits... but I think I'm going to need a backup plan to deal with the dogs. Looks like I'll be spending some time in the garage this weekend... maybe visiting my parents a bunch. Either way, it should be eventful. I'll keep you posted.

Tami and Chip rolling around on the living room floor last weekend

Morning madness

2007-03-31T07:45:00.000-07:00

It's official: Tami is crazy.
I just rolled over and found out I was alone, which is not an uncommon occurrence considering I like to sleep in on Saturdays while she prefers to putter around the house. However, after blinking once or twice, the fact that it was 7am registered. Intrigued, I went searching for my missing wife.
As it turns out, her yardwork obsession had kicked in. I knew she planned on spending the day out there, but I had no idea the depths of her insanity delved into the pre-dawn stages. I found my lovely wife in the front yard happily plucking weeds, radio blasting, in the rain. And when she noticed me, her good morning words were: "Honey, could you turn the compost? It's too heavy for me." Lovingly, I meandered over to the radio and turned it down before saying, "You're nuts."
So now only one question remains: who's crazier--her for asking or me for doing it?

An unexpected benefit

2007-03-04T12:21:00.000-08:00

One of the best gifts that we received last Christmas was a stocking stuffer from my mom. Tami had been on this kick about wanting to try a cleanse (apparently she felt that it was in both of our best interests) and at some point mom must have overheard that because in Tami's stocking, she got a cookbook and start-up kit for the Wild Rose cleanse. Basically, there's a questionnaire about your overall health and based on those results, it recommends the level of cleanse that you should endure to increase your level of health. This particular cleanse centres around the Candida fungus which is present in most people and focuses on the reduction of dietary elements which fuel and contribute to yeast production. Or at least, that's how I understand it. So we did the first part of the cleanse together--a 12 day program to kick start the latter, and more intensive, aspects.

Surprisingly, the whole thing wasn't as difficult as I had expected and, although I opted not to continue with the longer, secondary levels of the cleanse, I felt better for having gone through the initial stage of the process. However, the most enjoyable part of the cleanse wasn't the health benefit, or the weight loss (which isn't a normal result for everyone), or even the satisfaction of being able to say that we had actually gotten off of our asses and taken proactive measures to increase our health. The best part of the whole thing was the food... and here's where my writing starts to sound like a Jenny Craig advert.

Overall, the food was amazing and simple to make. Now, I'm not someone who actively searches for simple meals to create, in fact, I'm just the opposite and will go to lengths to spend a great deal of time cooking in the kitchen because I find it unusually relaxing in a way that no other element of my daily routine can match. But the recipes we found in this book were very, very easy to put together and not time-consuming in the least. The only thing we found was that we had to alter our usual grocery list because we were buying supplies that we wouldn't normally stock up on; however, we were also afforded an opportunity to dig deep into the recesses of our cabinetry and utilise those long forgotten (and probably highly deteriorated) spices we wouldn't otherwise get to, which was fun in it's own way. Anyhow, I should get on to the real intent of this post.

We were so impressed with this book that we wanted to share this discovery with everyone who was interested, and in that spirit I decided to start posting some of our favourite recipes here for our friends to try themselves--that way no one is forced to go out and actually buy the book or the rest of the kit to benefit from what it has to offer. Tami and I are still using the recipes in the book even though our cleanse ended almost two months ago. I know that it sounds cheesy, but I guess I always felt that cooking should be an adventure so with that in mind, I hope some of you can enjoy these as much as we have. Now, let's just hope I stick to it and actually get some of these up here. Without any more ado, here's the first. Enjoy.

Tomato Rice Salad (Tabouli):

Ingredients:

1 cup brown rice, cooked and cooled
1 cup tomato, diced
1/3 cup sunflower seeds
2 tbsp green onions, chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
2-3 tbsp lemon juice
2 tsp fresh mint, chopped (or 2/3 tsp dried mint)
1/2 tsp salt
pinch of pepper

Directions:

Combine all ingredients in a medium mixing bowl and mix gently.
Adjust seasoning to taste.
Salad is ready to serve but we like to refrigerate it for a bit first.
*Keep in mind when planning that brown rice takes quite a bit longer to make than basmati or standard long-grains... we tend to make this using the previous night's leftover brown rice.

Yield: 4

Aging gracefully

2007-03-02T08:16:00.000-08:00

I have just been afforded another indicator of my progression toward the inevitable...

my first white nose hair.

Can't sleep.

2007-01-05T04:45:00.000-08:00

I've been lying awake and going over the details of my dream for about an hour now. There are still some muddy parts (just like life... aren't there always?) but this is probably the clearest and longest dream that I've had in years. In case you don't already know--and I don't know why you would--I don't dream. Sure, I get flits of imagery now and again and probably when I'm out there's something going on in there that one could call "dreaming," but the fact remains that I don't remember it when I wake up. It's weird. 99% of the time I just shut and open my eyes and it's hours later. This post is in danger of going off on a number of tangents right now--very dreamlike--and I'd like to get this down so I can go back to sleep. On to the dream.

I'm in a room with someone else--identity unknown, one of the aforementioned murky details--and I'm pretty sure it's in White Rock. We're just chillin' on some very nice leather chairs, which are arranged in a widely spaced semi-circle of four facing each other and the tiny television off to the side at once. There is an open balcony behind us and the fresh air is comforting; the sun is out in full force but the rays are non-intrusive and the house is warm and cool all at once. There is an open-concept kitchen/dining area in front of me and it's tough to tell where the rooms end and where they begin...

Billy Corgan walks in from the stairwell on the right, between the kitchen and television, and tells us he's looking for so-and-so. I know immediately that the person he seeks is the owner of the house but am unable to help him. Somewhat starstruck--odd--I am speechless and focus on the moment. Billy senses this and begins to talk about lots of things: an art show he has just seen, the b.s. on the tube, a website he designed. Interested, we go to the office (past the stairwell) and he shows us the site he's talking about. I am familiar with it, having wasted a huge amount of time messing about with it in my dream past.

The site is non-functional. Not that it doesn't work, but it serves no real purpose other than to waste away hours. In fact, the site works perfectly. Sort of like a Sims game, you are a green dude (likely non-human) in a house--which, in hindsight, I think was the same house we were in--and you wander around messing with items in the house just to see cause-and-effect relationships occur. If you take the duck from the side of the tub and toss it in the water, for example, a glass falls off the counter in the kitchen. Meaningless. Anyhow, Billy sits down at the desk, positions green dude in a chair in front of the tv, and types in a word (unknown). The green dude speaks it, and sets off a chain reaction throughout the house. I'm guessing that this is some form of cheat that illustrates all the possibilities within the game. Looking pleased with himself, Billy smiles, gets up, and we all go back into the other room.

Billy tells us that he's got to go and then, after a moment of inner reflection, offers us four tickets to his next show in town. I'm about to say thanks and try to remain cool about it--because this sort of thing happens to me all the time, y'know--and the dude beside me goes apeshit, falling all over himself, saying how he's the biggest fan (which he is not), and basically acting like a tool. Billy just smiles again, and gives him two tickets. He tells me that he doesn't have any more on hand, but he'll get me in. He walks into the kitchen, opens up a drawer, and begins to write all over the cover of a newspaper (the Vancouver Province). It reminds me of one of those notes we wrote as kids like, "the bearer of this card is entitled to one free dinner (when I have the money), happy birthday mom" or "if you hold this card, you are dumb" or something silly like that. Anyhow, Billy scrawls something on the cover of the paper which will let the stage manager know that we're allowed in, and is about to hand it to me when, again, unknown dude goes apeshit and starts going off on how cool that was and how this is the coolest day ever, autographs, blah, blah, blah... and then grabs the paper as if it was his ticket in!

Billy just smiled at me, said he had to go, and that was it.

It wasn't very long but, like I said before, it was the clearest dream I've had in ages, and when I woke, my mind was wildly active. I couldn't stop thinking about silly shit like who I would have taken with that ticket (two were obviously for unknown dude) or how my sister saw the Pumpkins way back at Lollapalooza in '94. I'm not sure why it was Billy Corgan in the dream; I like SP but I'm not a huge fan or anything. I really only know one track off his most recent solo disc. Anyhow, I'm tired again and need to be up in an hour or so. Thanks for reading with me tonight.

Billy Corgan

home again, home again, jiggety-jig

2006-12-22T09:19:00.000-08:00

After an arduous six month term in hell, I have finally returned home. I know it sounds cliche, but there really isn't much of a better feeling than coming home for the holiday season. Let the festivities begin. Actually, I've been home since Monday night, but there has been a lot to do around here, as always. It's funny how that goes; I know I've been busy but I'll be damned what I've been busy doing. Yesterday was a big one, finally unpacking and sorting through all of the gear that I brought back from work took hours, and you don't even want to know how long I spent going through the six months of mail that had been piling up on my desk. The other night Tami and I rearranged the office and it finally has a good sense of feng shui about it now (there's irony if ever: the pressure is off to get writing done in here, and I begin to feel comfortable).

Tomorrow is cooking day for the holidays. Kim is having the family over to her place so we're doing cabbage rolls for that, and for my parent's dinner we're doing "The LOG." No, not the Ren and Stimpy classic, it's a dessert that seems to have gained a place of holiday reverence by our family. Really, it's just a bunch of chocolate cookie wafers, stuck together and slathered with whipped cream, but it truly is a big deal. I had the following conversation with both my sister and my mother this week:

*ring!* (telephone)
Me: "Yello."
Toni: "So, I hear you're doing the log this year."
Me: "Yep."
Toni: "Do you have everything you need?"
Me: "Uhh... I think so."
Did she really just ask me that? Am I missing something here? It's just cookies and cream right?
Toni: "You have the cookies?"
Me: "Yeah."
Seriously, wtf?
Toni: "And the cream?"
Me: "Uh-huh."
Toni: "How many boxes of cookies did you get?"
Me: "I dunno', six?"
Toni: "Six!!!"
As if millions of people's lives depended on my purchasing the exact number of cookie wafers for the LOG.
"That's way too many; you should only need two boxes."
Me: "I just wanted to be prepared, I guess, Tone."
Toni: "Well, how much whipped cream did you get?"
Good Gravy, will it ever end?
Me: "None yet. I figured i could do that later."
Toni: "Well, you know you need to have extra just in case..."
Me: "This is just about cookies and cream right?"
Toni: "...And you have to make it the night before..."
Me: "I mean, really, is there something special I'm missing out on here?"
Toni: "...You remember what happened when Dad tried to make it that time..."
Me: "Oh God."
Toni: "Okay, there's my other line, I have to go."
*Click*
Me: "Later."

I do love eating with the family though, even if it does turn out to be a huge ordeal every single time. Something is always upgraded to emergency status about ten minutes before the table is set:
"OH MY GOD!!! The turnips are overflowing! What are we going to do?!?!?!" Or some such thing. And then it'll be written in stone for the next ten years: "Did you turn down the turnips? You remember what happened three years ago when they boiled over..." Ha! It's funny because it's true. Tami and I usually get good and loaded before we get there so we generally don't get caught up in the frenzy.

Speaking of holiday food, I have one last anecdote. My other sister, Tanya, is a fantastic cook; she spends about a zillion dollars and hours in the kitchen, and the end result is always amazing. Every year, there's one thing that she loves to make... the cranberry sauce. She goes all out on it man, I'm talking about real berries, orange rinds, brandy, the works. It tastes great, but the one thing you can always count on is that she and her husband, Ian, will get into it over the cranberry sauce. You see, Ian prefers the canned stuff. The rounder, and more gelatinous, the better. Don't get me wrong though, out of all of us, Ian appreciates Tanya's cooking the most--nobody "oohs" and "ahhs" about Tanya's cooking like Ian. But the sauce is one thing he refuses to get behind. A couple of years ago, Ian was setting the table and all of a sudden it's on:

Ian: "Hey, where's the Cranberry sauce?"
Tanya: "Right there, in front of you."
Ian: "Not that stuff, the good stuff. The canned stuff."
Tanya: (seething) "What do you need that for?! I MADE the sauce this year!"
Ian: "You know I like the other kind, hon."
Tanya: "Well, you can just deal without it for one year."

And she turned back to the kitchen. Without missing a beat, Ian got his coat, keys, and went out the door. He returned ten minutes later with a can of sauce, which he opened and placed unceremoniously on a dish beside Tanya's; the molded shape of the can jiggled to the sounds of our laughter.

And that pretty much sums up how I expect my holiday to go. It's a good thing I quit my job so that once this whole deal is over, I'll get some time to kick back and relax--Playstation style.

Have a great one everybody, hope it's full of joy.

green blog

2006-12-10T22:12:00.000-08:00

I am starting a new blog because I wanted a green one. Who knows how often I'll post there; it is for doodling only. This will remain my primary source of internet rambling. The new one is here:

my green blog

Check it out, if you dare.

Offensive defences

2006-12-10T09:27:00.000-08:00

Friday night I finally got to watch a movie that I've been wanting to see for almost a year now. In a nutshell, Munich is about Israel's reaction to the murders of its 1972 Olympic team. If you're looking for a reason to watch this movie, don't waste your time debating; you'll probably need all of that energy after seeing the film. I am glad to have watched this.

I have always been reluctant to speak out on the Israel-Palestine conflict for a number of reasons, but my own ignorance has been the main reason. That being said, I am quick to speak out against war in general and truly believe that while conflict can not always be avoided, open war is not a viable method of problem-solving. How can the murders and deaths of others be an acceptable answer to any problem? These beliefs, of couse, open up a huge can of worms, and before long I begin to realise my own hypocrisy.

When is it right to kill? It seems to me that the administrators of recent times would have us believe that when the safety of a group of people is at risk becomes endangered, then it becomes a responsibility to protect them: an argument of defence. Allied participation in the Second World War was motivated by the protection of life and prevention of genocide; hindsight in this case has never altered my opinion that this was a just cause. Justification through the argument of defence has certainly been the modus operandi of the Bush Jr. administration, claiming that this war was a reaction to 9/11, the threat of WMDs in the Middle East, and Hussein's genocidal tactics in Iraq. I am amazed at how this argument has been spun, instilling fear in the North American people and at the same time relating the behaviours of the new enemy to those of one from the past (although genocide has occured on many occasions around the globe since Hitler's attempt, the use of a term such as "genocide" brings about an echo of justification because WWII was the last "just war").

But when does defence become offence? To aid in the illustration of this I will use an analogy from my own experience. If I catch someone breaking into my garage, I am entitled to protect myself to any degree I deem necessary. If the perpetrator attacks me then I am justified in defending myself and would be safe from prosecution if the other person's life were to be lost in this defence. However, if I am "defending" my own territory and chase the other person out of my yard and beat the crap out of him in his yard then have I gone to extreme measures? Am I guilty of unreasonable force? You bet I am. I have turned this incident into an offensive action. So if it is wrong at an individual level, why is this behaviour justified at the level of the State?

This post has gone off in directions that I hadn't originally inetnded, but I expected that. It is difficult to be precise in this argument, which is exactly the point I was trying to make. In my opinion, there is no conflict that illustrates the complexities of war more than the Israeli-Palestine conflict. While it is comforting to fall back on solid definitions of right and wrong, reality is rarely so simple. Ideologically, I am still baffled by the paradox of taking a life with the intention of protecting another.

I'm pretty sure I always will be.

Soundtrack: "Meat is Murder," the Smiths

Parhelion

2006-12-04T18:43:00.000-08:00

Last Friday, I saw my first sundog. Having been up in the north for almost six months now, having spent winters here in the past, and even growing up in snowy Edmonton, I find it amazing that I didn't have any idea that these things even existed until now. I blame the pot.

Basically, it's a halo around the sun. Light is refracted in ice crystals in the atmosphere and an icebow (aka: parhelion; aka: sundog) is created. The one I saw was a single bow to the right of the sun, but they are often double bows or full halos and can also have large centres at the main axis points, which look like multiple suns in the sky. Cool. The way I understand it, these are similar to the halos that appear around the moon sometimes.

What I haven't seen yet this year are the northern lights. This probably has to do with the fact that I'm working day shift now instead of nights, and I've passed the go-out-and-get-drunk-in-the-snow years of my life and have moved into the curl-up-with-a-good-book-and-get-a-decent-night's-rest phase. Hopefully, I see some on my way home because it'd be a shame to miss them while I'm out here. I have seen some amazing light shows in the sky while working up north.

Probably the coolest light-oriented sight that I have ever witnessed is ocean phosphorescence (little oceanic micro-organisms that glow when disturbed--such as when stirred by the wake of large ships at deep sea). When I was sixteen, I was obsessed by my recent discovery of marijuana and spent more time curling inward than actively searching for naturally-occurring phenomena. So imagine my surprise when I found myself fully sober at 3am, staring out to sea, and seeing all kinds of light and colours swirling and dancing about in the water. I must have watched those things for half an hour, at least.

One thing is for sure; nature is pretty wild. It's things like this that make me want to become an eco-nut. Maybe I will... or am and don't know it yet... or maybe I do...

Soundtrack:
"The Sea," Morcheeba

Stranded (at the drive-in...)

2006-11-27T10:04:00.000-08:00

After a much-needed visit home, I was set to return to work up in Fort McMurray last night but, unfortunately, Old Man Winter had other plans. I patiently waited for over an hour in line to check in for my flight out, got through the same line at security, and finally entered the "holding pen" with the intent to board right away, only to find out that I wouldn't be making my connection in Calgary and had one of two options: I could either wait in Calgary for the next flight (7am) or go home and fly out this morning. It didn't take much debate in my mind to determine that I'd rather spend the evening with Tami than sleeping on a bench in an Albertan airport.

So now I'm back in the "pen," waiting for my flight again. This one is also late, but at least it's going through to McMurray so, unless they decide to cancel the flight altogether, I should end up at my destination by the end of the day. Now all I need to worry about is whether or not my truck will start after sitting in -30 C for a week without being plugged in, but I'll save my rant about the inadequacy of the Fort McMurray infrastructure for another time.

Soundtrack:
"Waiting in Vain," Bob Marley & The Wailers

Nanny

2006-11-23T16:35:00.000-08:00

Florence Boulter:
January 3, 1914 - November 15, 2006

Last Sunday (the 12th) I got a phone call at about 11pm from my sister Tanya, telling me that my grandmother, my mom's mom, wasn't going to make it through the night. Nanny's health had been in steady decline for years and this summer she was moved into a full-time care facility in her home town of Sherwood Park, Alberta.
Although I didn't get to see her very often, I would always stop in for a visit with Nan on my way through Edmonton to work in Fort McMurray or on my way home, which usually amounted to about six or seven visits a year. Often I'd be passing through at strange hours of the night, but without fail, she'd be sitting in her chair when I came through the door, watching her "programs" on the television or reading the Bible. We'd have a cup of tea, I'd share my french fries, and then I'd be off again, rejuvenated and ready to endure the next stage of my run. So when I got the call that she was on her deathbed, I didn't hesitate: I got a bag together, hopped in my truck, and drove down to Edmonton for one last visit.
I got in around 4:30am and Nan was, as usual, awake. She was having a hard time talking and hasn't been able to hear me for over a year now, and that made conversation difficult. However, we spent the next four hours together and she did manage to communicate to me her displeasure with my facial hair: "You look like your father" she said disapprovingly, yet she wouldn't stop touching my moustache. To be honest, I think Nan always liked my Dad's moustache, but wouldn't ever admit it just so she'd have something to bug him about.
I left Nan around 8 or 9 in the morning to go get some rest at my Auntie Sharon's house. Unfortunately, I spent more time visiting than resting, but it worked out well, as my sister Toni flew into town unexpectedly and needed to be picked up in Edmonton anyway. I drove Toni to the home and we both got to see Nanny for a short visit. Nanny couldn't talk at all at that point, so we spent most of the time holding her hand and trying to make her as comfortable as possible. Although Toni would stay in town for another day, I needed to return to work in McMurray and this turned out to be my last visit with Nanny.
I got the phone call on my birthday that Nanny was gone. She had passed in the afternoon, and my cousin Lori was there when it happened. After a long hard fight, Nanny was dead at almost 93 years of age.
The funeral service was on Monday; Tami and I flew in with the rest of my family for an overnight attendance. It was there that I cried for the first time. Prior to that moment, I believed that I had said my farewell and had come to a sense of peace of Nan's passing. However, I realise now that there is no end to mourning; I won't always be sad, and I won't ever be done remembering the little details, and these are good things. The memories were what made me cry and I'm glad that Nanny and I got to share those last few moments together. I wouldn't trade them for the world.

Soundtrack:
"This Little Light of Mine," John Stebbe

Jetset...

2006-11-19T10:40:00.000-08:00

Tami and I are off to Edmonton in less than an hour. We'll be back tomorrow night and it'll be nice to to finally have some steady time at home. I'll fill everyone in then.

Current Soundtrack:
"The Joker and the Thief," Wolfmother

At arms length...

2006-11-17T15:40:00.000-08:00

The Calgary airport holds no appeal for me as I sit waiting for the waiter to realize that he hasn't approached me yet. As I face a grueling 3 hour wait, the idea of home seems an eternity from my grasp.
Sullen or surly, either way, my demeanour is becoming darker and darker the longer I wait. Fucking public smokers. The fact that there hasn't been anything tangible in my belly since 7am probably isn't doing me any favours.
God, I need to get home.

Roar...

2006-11-12T10:09:00.000-08:00

Today is a big day in the world of CFL.

It's the division finals in which Toronto and Montreal challenge one another for the eastern title, and Saskatchewan is doomed to defeat by our glorious BC LIONS in the west!

So sweet... I've been waiting for this for weeks.

Now even though I'm obviously a dedicated BC fan, I would have no problem with Saskatchewan going to the Grey Cup. They deserve it after years of hard work and strategy, they've been developing their team and skills and it shows. However, it should be made clear that I will be cheering for the Lions today and can't wait to see the Riders slammed into the turf over and over again--a green, bloody, pulpy mess of inferiority.

Current soundtrack:
"Cantaloupe Island," Herbie Hancock

Soundtrack

2006-11-07T20:29:00.000-08:00

I've decided to place an mp3 player in my sidebar and have tentatively titled it "in my head." Who knows how often I'll update it; hopefully I'll throw something new in each time I update the blog. The basic idea is that whatever song I'm currently fond of, have recently discovered, or can't seem to exorcise from my brain, will end up here for your listening pleasure. Also, it may be one of the stepping stones to an idea I have for a future podcast, but I'll need to get some better software first--iLife comes with Garage band, I think, and if I'm going that route it may just be time to purchase that new iMac I've been dreaming of for so long now...

Anyhow, back to reality. The player I've chosen doesn't show the track name or anything, but I like that--it'll keep you checking for the new. One aspect that I have discovered is that the player is too large for the margin so it ends up intruding on the text. I'm looking for another player that's more compact (visually) so bear with the messiness until I can figure something out. If anyone knows of a free and easy player for websites/blogs that sounds like it'll fit my needs, let me know and I'll check it out. Also, Blogger seems to take longer to update anything to do with the template and/or index than it does for regular posts so there may be a linear time lag I'll need to deal with. But for now, it's there and that's all that counts.

So there it is, I'm done for the night. I just found out that my garage was broken into this afternoon (3 times now!!!), so I need to talk with Tami and get the poop-scoop. Maybe see about buying a dog. Or a gun. Anthrax would probably do the trick...

Take care and thanx for listening.

Another monumental moment...

2006-11-04T20:19:00.000-08:00

I just finished my first Sudoku puzzle ever. I know that right now many of you are saying, "So what?" so I should qualify the importance of this occasion.

I am a puzzler--I know how that sounds, but it's true. I love puzzles in all of their forms: jigsaw, crossword, jumbles, numeric, etc. However, in all of my puzzling years, I have NEVER been able to get through a Sudoku puzzle in its entirety: the whole scene usually ends with me having a fit, crumpling said puzzle, and tossing it in the can before stomping around in a sour mood for hours upon hours. But now, that has all changed and I have acheived a new level of peace in my life.

Seriously, that was really starting to get on my nerves.

If you don't know what Sudoku is, or want a handy electronic version of it, check it out here:

Sudoku

A boot's tale

2006-10-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

When strange and inexplicable things happen, I often walk away comforted by the thought that perhaps they happened for reasons that are important, and yet remain beyond my scope of understanding. The story of my boot is one of these.

This afternoon, Rajko and I were working on a job together at work. A bunch of trailers were moved to a new location and we were required to disconnect and reconnnect their power once they were placed in their new locations. However, this operation required that we remove a junction box from the side of one of the wash cars (aka: the poo trailer). Portable wash car construction is interesting as their function necessitates an area to store the poop and pee and other construction worker nastiness that gets flushed down the drain. In this case, there was an external box beside the trailer which was connected to the drainage system by a large, black pipe... and our box was located right beside this pipe. So we set to work disconnecting, and feeding, and doing all sorts of other electrical stuff which by no means should have disturbed that large black pipe containing all of the fecal matter. But it did...

Somehow, the guy who attached that pipe neglected to fasten it at all and it was just sort of resting in place at the connection point. Neither of us are really sure how it happened, but when that pipe came loose and sprayed out everywhere, we were definitely wading in some of the foulest, chunkiest, nastiest mess I have ever seen. I definitely had poo water and chunks on my pants, on my boots, and it was all I could do to hold back from spewing my guts then and there.

Suffice it to say that we both got the rest of the day off with pay in order to clean ourselves up, do laundry, and try to get over the mental trauma that comes with being covered in other peoples' shit. Luckily, both of us had recently waterproofed our boots and the sewage didn't get a chance to seep through, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. So, after a quick trip to the on-site doctor to inquire about vaccinations, we both went back to our rooms and set to the new task of getting cleaned up.

I began by putting my one soiled boot out on the back porch of our dorm to air out a bit before I cleaned it completely. Then I put in a load of laundry, had a shower and came back to get down to the dirty work. Unfortunately, when I went out on the back porch, the boot was nowhere to be found! Huh? Did someone actually steal a shit-covered, solitary boot? Nah. There must have been some sort of mistake. I finally located one of the dudes who cleans the dorms (affectionately titled, a bull cook) and we both asked around to see if anyone had perhaps tossed it out or done something else with it. No dice. I went to the Head Camp Attendant who then contacted all of the staff via radio and tried to locate the runaway boot. Still no dice. By this point I was about to give up when I realised that my dorm is one of the few where there is a large, blue disposable bin that the cleaners and bull cooks toss their bags of garbage into. So... in I went.

Luckily there were only about 20 or 30 bags in the bin, because I don't think I could have handled any more than that. The smell was horrific--but still not as bad as when that pipe burst. Again, no dice. As I emptied the last bag, I finally resigned myself to the fact that my boot was gone and I was going to have to make a trip into town and buy a new pair of boots--which is no simple run to town as I am approximately 85 kms in the bush. Clambering out of the bin, I noticed a coyote standing in the distance, watching me. The bin has a large lid that can only be operated by a hand crank and as I stood there cranking away, I thought to myself how odd it was that this was one of the few animal sightings here in camp: CNRL is adamant about keeping wildlife off of the premises and has many programmes in place to prevent their presence. Only once I had returned to my room, cleaned up, had a coffee, and begun writing this entry did the solution to my missing boot story come to me.

The frigging coyote took it.

A trip through the Rockies....

2006-10-14T09:37:00.000-07:00

From the early stages of our relationship, Tami and I have had a fondness for road tripping. Perhaps it goes hand-in-hand with the nature of my work; being out of town as much as I am requires some negotiation at times. But I also believe that our mutual fondness stems from an earlier disposition: in our youth, both of our families spent a great deal of time camping throughout BC and Alberta, experiences that we hope to mercilessly subject our children to in the future. So last month, for our second wedding anniversary, Tami and I decided to take a jaunt around the Rocky Mountains as neither of us could remember traveling down highway 93 between Jasper and Banff--a scenic and incredible journey that people from all over the world come to Canada in order to undertake.

Day 1:

Late Thursday evening, Tami and I met in Edmonton; she flew in from Kelowna and I drove in from Fort McMurray. My cousin, Cristi, picked her up at the airport and we stayed the night at their house... hopefully we didn't keep them awake all night (*wink). Unfortunately, we didn't get much time to visit family when we were in Edmonton because we were anxious to get driving and Tami had to return to work the following Wednesday. So, after a couple of quick visits with my two remaining grandmothers, we were off to Jasper by noon. We stayed at the Athabasca Hotel, a town heritage landmark and favourite of ours. Years ago, when we were first dating, we met here and spent a week hiking around the Park and shagging like bunnies. It is one of my fondest memories. Of course, we did much the same thing this time, but without the hiking.

Day 2:

Jasper is a beautiful town with a much more relaxed attitude than its sibling, Banff. We spent Saturday morning window shopping and just chilling out before beginning down highway 93 (aka: the Icefield Parkway) toward Banff and Calgary. The drive from Jasper to Calgary is supposed to take about four hours if one were to go straight through and not visit any of the sights along the way. After inquiring at the information centre and consulting the free map they provided, we decided to make five stops along the way: Athabasca Falls, Sunwapta Falls, The Athabasca Glacier, Peyto Lake, and Lake Louise.

Tami and the town's ever-popular mascot, Jasper the Bear

Our first two stops were at The Athabasca and Sunwapta Falls. These were incredible and quite possibly my favourite part of the trip. It is simply amazing to see how much water flows from the mountain run-off, and the force that is behind such a huge volume of water. Incredibly, we were not there at the peak of run-off season... I coudn't even imagine what that would be like. If you look closely at the photo I have posted currently at the top left of this blog, you'll see me sitting on a ledge above the Athabasca falls--that was an awesome but terrifying experience, to say the least.

Athabasca Falls: breathtaking, no?

After lunch we headed to the Athabasca Glacier. This chunk of moving ice is the last remaining portion of what used to cover most of the valley. Unfortunately, due to our increasingly warming temperatures, the glacier has been receding rather than expanding, for over 125 years. There are mile markers to illustrate the glacier's edge over the last century--it has receded over a 1.5 kms in this time. After the fact, I realised that this is the third Glacier that Tami and I have visited in our travels: we once spent a weekend camping and hiking around Glacier National Park in Roger's Pass, and I proposed to Tami at the bottom of Kootenay Glacier in Nelson, BC.

To get an idea of the size, check out the group of people at the bottom right of the photo...

By this time it was getting late and we were still quite a way from Calgary. We made a quick stop at Peyto Lake, a hidden away and beautiful lake way up behind the glacier. The lake is a popular stop along the highway due to it's bright blue-coloured water (a result of refraction and the excess of mountain silt). From there we went on to Lake Louise, where we wandered around in twilight and marvelled at the sights, both natural and manmade. When we left it was well beyond dark and we were happy to be on our way to Calgary after a long and exhausting day of travel. Arriving at about midnight (after a minor unintentional detour through, around, and above the city of Calgary) we spent the night at my cousin David's house and were fast asleep after a quick beer and hello.

My lovely wife posing at the Chateau

Day 3:

As per Tami's usual standard, we were up and out of the house early, on our way for a day at the Calgary Tower and Zoo. The tower is located in central Calgary and one of the few childhood memories that I can manage to pull out of the cobwebs. Although spectacular, there isn't much to it: it's a tower, you pay money to ride up the elevator, you stand and look at the mountains, you ride back down. The whole thing takes about 25 minutes. That being said, there is a new glass floor that has been built onto the side of the observation deck and the feeling of stepping out into mid-air is well worth the sixteen bucks.

Look up...

...Look down

From there we hit the zoo and took the whole day to just walk around and see the animals from all over the world. Tami had never been to a zoo before and I'm glad her first time was here. Zoos get a bad rap for the obvious imprisonment and humane issues, but Calgary has one of the best records in North America for their treatment of animals so I didn't feel too bad about it. The only problem was that the zoo was jam-packed (something to be expected on a long weekend, I suppose) and over the course of the day, Tami got a little fed up with my "look at the humans in their natural habitat" jokes. This all started when the line-up for slushies was longer than the line to see the tigers, and later in the week, when news of Steve Irwin's death had hit, she told me how weird it was that I had been impersonating him at the zoo that day. The funny part is, I don't remember doing a Steve bit...

"the cow says, moo."

"the lion says, roar."

After the zoo, we had a visit with Tami's friend Shallon and her husband at their 23rd floor apartment in downtown Cowtown. What a view! They made us a fabulous Indian dinner and we sat drinking and eating all night long. Once again, we got back to Dave's late, and they were already in bed by the time we arrived.

Day 4:

When we woke up, Dave, Katherine, and my new second-cousin, Alliyah, were already up having breakfast. It was Alliyah's 6 month birthday and the first time we got to meet her, as she and Katherine had just arrived from the East Coast the day before. We had a lazy brunch with them and Tami wouldn't stop holding the baby the whole morning. Unfortunatly, I don't seem to have any photos of our time spent with the family, so you'll just have to take my word on how cute she is.

We were on the road by 1pm and heading home. The day was mostly spent driving and we only made two stops along the way. The first was at Emerald Lake, a spot I remember from my childhood trips with the family. The lake is very peaceful and has that same blue-green colour quality that Peyto lake is famous for.

Emerald Lake

Hey, a picture of me!

Our next stop was in Golden. Tami was there with work a while back and wanted to take me up the gondola to have a coffee at the top. Unfortunately, the coffee shop was closed, so we basically got to the top, checked out the view, and came back down, but it was fun nonetheless. From the gondola we saw a number of bears and people cycling down the trails. Tami bought a hat and I got some more patches for the backpack, and we were finally on the last leg of our trip home.

Tami in the sky with diamonds

The only incident of any importance left to tell was that of "the chair." When we were in Edmonton, Cristi had just had a garage sale of all her grandparents' stuff and she told us to take whatever we wanted. Well, Tami spotted a big old wooden beach chair amongst the piles and decided that it would look great on the patio. The whole way home, the chair sat in the back of my truck and it became sort of a joke between us: "is the chair still there?" Never too solidly secured, it would remain overnight in the truck bed and would always be the easiest way of spotting our vehicle in a parking lot. Anyhow, the last time we saw the chair was in Revelstoke when we stopped for dinner. As we were leaving town, the chair was in its usual locale, safe and sound. However, when we arrived home, the chair was gone--the only shred of evidence remaining: a frayed bungee cord broken and hanging limply from its tie-down point. We have a theory as to what happened to the chair, but it comes in two versions. In the clean version, I had to take a piss really bad and somewhere around Mara Lake I spotted a rest stop, just a little too late. As I pulled off the highway, one of the tires hit the curb and we took a jolt, tossing the chair into the darkness, and never to be seen again. There is a dirtier version, but you'll have to ask us about in person: this is a family show, y'know?

So that's it for now. Thanks for hanging on, hopefully it was worth the wait.

Tami Wan Kenobi catching some 'z's on the way home

Funny haha, not funny poopoo...

2006-10-02T19:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I realized that I've been blathering on and on about boring stuff lately and decided that this blog needed some more funny and less poopoo. Yes, I know that this site now runs the danger of becoming a glorified mini-version of You Tube, but I'll take that chance. Enjoy it while it lasts.
HA!... Fully operational by Saturday... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Shitty Job

2006-09-24T13:38:00.000-07:00

On these walls
I read what is writ,
The "Fuck this place"s
and the pictures of tits.

In these stalls,
Amongst the smell of shit,
The paycheque summations,
I wonder: Is this why I do it?

The union calls,
In my mind, hope flits.
The next job will be better...
In my heart, I just know it.

Lost at centre

2006-09-17T17:42:00.000-07:00

I step out of the door and am confronted by more doors. Innumerable in my mind, they stretch both directions, left and right, down the corridor on either side. And yet, I am aware that these doors are not for me. Although significant, the doors along the path are not as important as the choice I am now faced with. The only doors that matter right now are the two at either end of the stretch--these two are dialectically opposed, but each direction appears identical, both final doorways marked with an exit sign.

How do I get out of this maze? The answer reveals itself in almost cryptic fashion: although both signs are on the same side of the hall, when I look in one direction, the exit sign hangs to the right of the door, on the other, the left. I know that behind one exit lie the masses, the majority, and the status quo all supported by lies, merit, and bureaucracy, and desire. Behind the other, a forest of darkness that will initially be filled with loneliness, solitude, and isolation, but ultimately I will discover a clearing at the end of the path filled with love and joy.

I am lost at centre and choose to turn left.

Look up... way up

2006-09-17T10:55:00.000-07:00

This is me at work when I was supposed to be playing foreman, but instead decided that taking a picture of the site before the snow flies would be more prudent than actually ensuring some work got done. Ha! In truth (am I saying that a lot lately?) the week's work was done and the day was so fantastic that I had to get a pic. Taking pictures on these job sites is no easy feat either; the clients are extremely protective of their investment and I could definitely lose my job over this but what the hell... carpe diem, no?

The big four-vesseled structure behind me is the Primary Upgrader (or Cokers) and is used to separate the carbon from the oil in tarsands of northern Alberta. Carbon (aka: coke) is one of the many by-products of oil production along with sulphur and nitrogen. Syncrude has a sulphur pile that is roughly the same size of the Great Pyramids of Egypt! It is all done through the wonderful process of steam injection--kinda' like Kraft Dinner, just add water "et voila!" instant happiness. The Cokers are usually the star attraction of any oilsands plant for two reasons: one, because without them, the plant can't operate at all; and two, because they are by far the largest vessels on site--usually about 300-400 feet tall. This photo was taken from a platform about 60 or 70 feet above ground... working at these heights is just par for the course in my job.

So there you have it, a little bit on my work and a photo of me to boot. I love camera phones--gotta' get me one of my own.

*for more info on the oilsands and the mining/refining processes, check out this website: Oilsands

Broken promises held together with duct tape

2006-09-16T18:55:00.000-07:00

Upon reflection, I realized that I have failed to come through on more than one promise to those of you who once read this blog. This post will be an attempt to remedy some of those. I had started to do this about a week ago and, as usual, got caught up in something else prior to completion. Surprisingly, I've managed to return; with the help of a large cup of Tim Horton's and the soothing sounds of Stan Rogers, I find myself rambling on and on and on...

#1: Syndicate me!

Lisa Dawn once asked me to look into syndication of my blog for people who didn't want to keep checking the site for updates. Well, it turns out that I didn't have to do anything as Blogger already had me defaulted to a site feed with Atom. If you want to add it to your Google page or whatever, here's the URL: http://chickenwingsandbeer.blogspot.com/atom.xml
I'll also attach a link or something on the bottom of the sidebar in case anyone else wants to try this out; I've added most of the peeps into mine already and am enjoying this immensely. Thanx Hammy, that was an easy fix.

#2: The Unibomber et al.

If you've been reading this faithfully then you probably also go through the comments--which there has been no shortage of in regards to my failure to post regularly, I may add. Sheila and Olly wanted to hear more about my drunken excursion and failed rant entitled "Moral Dillema" from about a month or so ago. The reason that I never finished that post was simple: once I woke up the next morning, I couldn't (re)discover the reason for my ranting... other than the fact that I was piss-drunk, of course. In order for me to try and recreate the spirit of that post (pun intended), I'd probably need to go out and consume all sorts of tasty bevvies and then watch two of my coworkers get turfed out of camp and, ultimately, lose their jobs. That being said, I'll try to make do with a bowl of minestrone soup instead.

Mike and Wally are a couple of guys that I worked with here at CNRL, and one night after our weekly poker game, we decided to hit the bar in camp. By 10pm, when the bar shuts down, we were pretty loaded and went back to Mike's room for a couple more beers. I guess we were louder than one of Mike's neighbours felt necessary on a worknight and before too long security came a-knockin'. At first, we were pretty cool about answering their request that we shut down the "party" and told them that we'd finish our beers and be on our way. We shut the door figuring that we'd solved the problem and had full intentions to keep our promise, but within two minutes the guard had returned with his boss and were once again knocking on the door. When we answered the door the second time, the guards tried to force their way into the room--an action that is well beyond their scope of duty, not to mention invasive of Mike's rights as a tenant of the camp--and Wally and I were forced to defend the borders, insisting that they were the ones who were making this situation a problem. The guards were becoming more heated, threatening to call the police and have us fired, so before the situation got completely out of hand, we finished the last sips of our beer and left Mike's room. This was a Wednesday night.

Two days later, around noon on Friday, Mike was given a letter by our Shop Steward (the union representative and liason) from the Camp Coordinator, which notified him that he was no longer welcome in CNRL's camp and would be required to leave immediately. The reason: he had hosted a party and his guests had abused the guards, hurling racial slurs and insults when asked to return to their rooms. According to the report filed by the two guards, we had called them "niggers," "sand-niggers," and told them to "go back to Africa." Admittedly, I get a little unruly when I drink in excess, however, I would never stoop to such a low tactic, as it goes against everything that believe in. Likewise, I wouldn't take part in such a demonstration and wouldn't keep friends who performed such actions. I tried to file an incident report of my own, but the Camp coordinator wouldn't have anything to do with us and Mike was forced to vacate the camp. This is more serious than it sounds, as a room for one in Fort McMurray runs anywhere between $1,500 - $2,000 per month, not including food and transportation to work (85 kms each way). Part of the terms of Mike's dismissal from camp were that he became ineligible for LOA (a rate of daily pay provided by the contractors to help ease the high cost of living in town). So, without a place to live, and no way to afford life in McMurray (unfortunately, 50 hours a week just isn't enough to live here), Mike was forced to quit. Just to add salt to the wound, the work situation through our union isn't as prosperous as the media would portray right now, as contractors are unwilling to utilise union construction, and as a result, Mike will be looking at about 6 months of unemployment (conservatively). He is banned from this camp indefinitely.

Wally quit also. Apparently, the guards followed us back to our rooms (or tried to) in an attempt to discover our identities and serve us with the same punishment. It was all very Cloak & Dagger, but the guards' detective work was somewhat lacking as they wrote the numbers down incorrectly and had our names all mixed up with two other guys. While the number they had for Wally's room was correct, they had the wrong dorm. Either way, he figured it was just a matter of time before they figured out their mistake, so he got out before he was banned from camp as well. To our employer's credit, both Mike and Wally were provided with lay-offs, allowing them to re-open their previous Employment Insurance claims, thus allowing them to pay their mortgages. I am unsure what either is up to now: Wally had some offers in the private sector so he may be okay, but Mike was probably forced to work for a non-union contractor to pay his child support and whatnot.

As for me, the information that the guards had was totally off. Hopefully, some other random dude didn't get booted out for my drunkenness. They did have a description of me that was sort of accurate (a guy with glasses and a beard) so I was forced to lay low around camp for a few weeks. I shaved my beard clean, wore my rather unstylish work glasses, and concealed my face with a hoodie. All of this earned me a new nickname: the unibomber.

So. The reason for the title of that post was simple. I was feeling guilty for my participation in getting Mike booted out of camp. Had I quit with Wally, I would have demonstrated our solidarity, but by staying here in camp, I sold out. Sure, everyone needs to look out for themselves when they have families to feed and bills to pay, but I can't help feeling like garbage for choosing the money rather than taking a stand against what I believe to be total bullshit. This whole incident was blown out of proportion, based on a false claim of racial prejudice, and likely fueled by a motive of anti-unionism. This may seem like a conspiracy theory, but it is no secret that CNRL does not want union contractors here, and has taken a number of measures to ensure that the unions come off in a bad light at the end of this project, thus reducing our power at the bargaining table for future development in the oilsands and Alberta as a whole.

And now I've had about enough. I hate it here. The incident with Mike and Wally brought that emotional response to a head. CNRL has since pulled half of the work away from our company (one of two union contractors on site) and morale is low. We had to lay off seven apprentices on Friday; my foreman never showed up and because I'm the stand-in foreman, I had to lay the guys off... something I have never enjoyed doing, especially when there is no work on the horizon. From here on in, I'm just putting in time, waiting for my own lay-off so I can return home to my wife, spend the winter playing in the snow, and start fresh on a new job in the spring.

That's it for that one.

#3: Coming out

Finally, I looked back on the Fabio photo which I had posted earlier and realized that anyone who hadn't actually been reading the comments from before wouldn't have any context for the image and may have come under some false impressions regarding my own sexuality. Worse, someone may think that I was making fun of the sexual identity of others, which, was definitely not my intention. Anyhow, I don't really give a fuck what most people feel about me, especially with regard to my sexuality, because it's nobody's business and it doesn't matter either way. However, I was thinking particularly about my parents who do, on occasion, pass by this site as a way of maintaining contact and trying to see what's new in my life. And after the stress that I put them through as a teenager, I'd hate to freak them out any more than I already have. So, Mom and Pop, if you read this, take comfort that if I were coming out, I'd have a little more couth than to do so digitally.

And that's the end of this post. Another long one, but it was all long overdue. Thanx for waiting and keep checking back as I plan on posting some of our summer pics in the near future.

A flurry of posts.

2006-09-16T18:41:00.000-07:00

Hello? Is anybody out there?

Yeah yeah, sounds like a Pink Floyd rip-off to me too but I just needed to check to see if anybody was still reading this thing after my extended absence. I know that it's been a while but things got busy and I guess I got lazy. Truth is that I've oft times sat down and wanted to post a sketch or update y'all on what's been going on but without a digital camera or an image to accompany the text, I feel that I'd be shortchanging you (guess that's a habit that hung on from my days at the Phoenix).

So get ready for a flurry of posts--as the title alludes to--as I am about to get blogging. Thanks for your patience.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

2006-08-29T17:45:00.000-07:00

This one's just for Sheila and Olly.

Cancer

2006-08-21T20:37:00.000-07:00

So a few posts back, I mentioned that I had begun an exercise regime with the goal of losing some weight and getting in better shape. I went into great detail about how I was going to stick with it this time and continue lifting weights because I had no excuses anymore (and if those weren't my exact words, I can assure you that that was precisely what my conscience was telling me). Anyway, I didn't last long at that program, in fact, I quit it about a week after I started. That's not to say that I've reverted back to my lazy ways of popcorn eating and napping, because I actually did have a valid reason for dropping that routine.

I have been bicycling three or four times a week after work. I usually go 40kms each night down the highway that leads through the boreal forest to our site here at CNRL. "What was the motivation for that," you may ask. Well, the story begins about 4 years ago.

When I first joined the union hall, I lasted about 1 month up at Syncrude before I got laid off. Although odd--I had never been laid off from a job as an electrician prior to that--I was not disheartened as there was a huge amount of work at the time and I was back to work within the week. My second job was at a site called Albian Sands, a Shell project where I worked the night shift. Coincidentally, my father worked the day shift there and he would stop by my room daily at about 3pm as I was waking up for a cup of freshly-brewed coffee. I miss that... but I'm getting off the point. It was at Albian Sands where a group of union electricians first came up with the idea to ride from Fort McMurray to Edmonton, a distance of 500 kms, over the course of a weekend. Bill Van Barreveld, Chris Marshman, and Steve Mandiuk were--and remain--avid cyclists but once word got 'round that they were actually going to do this, more people got interested and the three decided to do something more than just have fun. They decided to organize a pledge drive to raise funds for Cancer research. Bill's mother and Steve's wife had both had Cancer. This ride, now dubbed the "Muskeg 500" has been happening annually ever since.

This Saturday, on it's 5th anniversary, I will join the Muskeg 500 group and cycle from Edmonton to Slave Lake and back. The route has been changed for the first time this year due to the poor maintenance and hazardous conditions of Highway 63, but we are still going to travel 500 kms in two days and we are still trying to raise money for Cancer (and specifically with the hope of aiding in the purchase of a new electron microscope for the Cross Cancer Institute in Edmonton). Over the course of the four previous years, the riders have canvassed many jobsites across Alberta and have managed to raise $44,800 for the cause! I'm hoping to help raise that number, which brings me to the ulterior motive of this post.

If anyone would like to sponsor me or donate to this ride, I would appreciate it very much. As I mentioned earlier, all of the funds go toward Cancer research and as such, any donations over $15 are tax deductible (receipts will be mailed out after the ride). If you are interested, please get in touch with me either via this blog, or in person (we're in the book and Tami will tell you how to reach me if necessary). As I am stuck in Northern Alberta, I will be unable to physically collect donations until I get out of here; however, Tami and I are planning to be in the Calgary, Edmonton, and Kelowna areas from September 1-11 and would be happy to meet up with anyone wanting to donate at that time.

So that's it, thanx for taking the time to read this and I look forward to your responses.

Tragedy

2006-08-19T07:46:00.000-07:00

Some disturbing local news stories from Fort McMurray. I'm posting these because they all pertain directly to my work up here in some way. It is no secret that the majority of people in Alberta (often prompted by Ralph Klein's Conservative government) harbour feelings of anger toward unionized oilsand workers, claiming that we make too much money, that we abuse the system, and that our high wages slow down project development which results in damage to the Albertan economy. The reality, however, is that workers in this industry face danger and death on a daily basis, something that is often left out in the criticism of our organizational efforts. When you read these articles, keep in mind that they were all written within the span of a week.

Hot as Hell

Highway 63

Black Mould

Just some more background. Highway 63--currently the only paved road into the city of Fort McMurray--has been consistently claiming the lives of oilsand workers since the '70s and is without a doubt the worst stretch of highway in Alberta. Certainly, it holds one of the highest death tolls in Canada. Thousands of workers drive home to their families in Edmonton and Calgary every weekend at an average speed of 130km/hr. Until recently, the 500km-long highway was littered with memorials to those who have died but the government has decided that these crosses and hardhats were too disturbing and may deter traffic from travelling into Fort McMurray. The number of visible memorials are lesser now, but those of us who spend any amount of time up here and along that highway will never forget our friends, co-workers, brothers and sisters who are gone because they needed to go to work.

Moral dilemmas.

2006-08-11T22:05:00.000-07:00

I just got back to my room--after going out and getting purposely drunk--and the first thing I saw was Wally's toolbox on my bed. It was only after this sign that today's events hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks and I likely will not see two of my friends for at least a year. You see, Wally and Mike were forced out of their jobs today and, due to the current situation in organized labour, they may not get a job for quite some time. What makes it doubly worse is the fact that I was involved in the incident which resulted in these two extremely qualified workers losing their jobs this afternoon.

Fuck, I wish I wasn't pissed right now because I really need to get this off my chest. I put in an extensive report to my union representative and job steward, Joe, this afternoon explaining our side of the "incident," but I doubt if it will ever get as far as the people who actually make the calls around here. As far as they are concerned, any union member that causes a disturbance in this camp--whether it is justified, reasonable, or even factual--is immediately guilty and must be removed from the site without opportunity to explain themselves.

This will all sound like a big conspiracy theory unless it is put into context and I just don't have the willpower (nor the sobriety) to continue at this point. I will, however, explain further in my next post because I know it is unfair to start something of this magnitude and not take it all the way. Guess I'm just a big tease.

Until I'm feeling better suited to describing this chain of events, know that I hate the bullshit politics up here and that this post has a purpose, whether I have succeeded in conveying that or not.

Until I can further explain, goodnight and pleasant dreams.

Rajko

2006-08-02T16:51:00.000-07:00

One of the few endearing qualities attached with working in the oil and gas industry is that I am never short of entertaining and interesting people to watch and interact with. Despite the large number of stereotypical Albertan rednecks present in the camp environment, there is also a refreshingly large amount of educated and intelligent workers who toil daily out here in the muskeg. Rajko is one of this latter group.

My first impression of Rajko--who I now refer to as "Raj," "the Raj-inator," and (my personal favourite) "Rajy-baby"--was that he was a stoic, eastern-block relic who would likely make my days here out on the highline a living hell of nose-to-the-grindstone, conversation-free employment. Thank God that this was only a first--and completely inaccurate--impression. Raj is originally from Serbia and is now living in Edmonton with his second wife. Although I am unsure of the reason for his migration, I believe it has much to do with the fact that he became a widower when his first wife was killed on her bicycle by a drunk driver. Raj didn't get into much detail after he told me that very personal piece of his history, and I didn't pry. What I like most about working with him though, is the fact that he is the complete opposite of what I expected him to be. Picture a man who's about 6' 2", 250 lbs, who rarely speaks, and when he does, it's in an extremely thick Serbian accent and you may have an idea of my first Rajko experience.

Raj has since opened up and I have discovered a couple of fun things about his personality. First, he likes to tell proverbs. The best part is that his proverbs are all from Serbia and are often miscontrued in the direct or literal translation. Here's my favourite of the bunch:

In winter, there is a dog who decides to build a house. So he just curls up and puts his nose under his tail and says, "I don't need a house because I'm so small." However, when the summer comes, the dog just stretches out and says, "Look how big I am!"

Think about it.

Today I learned that Rajko has an affinity for movies. His favourite directors are Akira Kurosawa and Francis Ford Coppola. We sat and dicussed the meaning behind Japanese Bushido code and Kurosawa's interpretation of Hara Kiri. Of course, when I say "we discussed," I mean: Raj talked in broken English and I listened while struggling to interpret and completely fascinated by his wealth of film and cultural knowledge.

I guess what I wanted to convey with this post is that I am always amazed at how unique every person out there is and how easily I can be distracted from those qualities by attaching stereotypical and all-encompasing characteristics to people even though I am aware of the pitfalls of those actions. Also, I wanted to share some of the fun aspects of my work because, as I alluded to earlier, they are few and far between. I really wish I had a camera because there are a tonne of people here who I like to cartoon and sketch... I'll make an effort to remember to bring something back from home this weekend and post some. It will be tough to get a good one of Rajko though because he doesn't like it when I doodle him--he usually just gets up and walks away without saying anything.

Thanx, Raj.

Friends

2006-07-22T09:08:00.000-07:00

I've realized--late in the game, I know--that since graduation, many of my friends have been scattered. Not wanting to invoke or promote any particular obvious cliches, the thought that many of my friends and fellow students are growing up and moving on in their lives saddens me. So, in the spirit of maintaining friendships and bonds across the globe, I have included some links in the sidebar to some of their sites under the (appropriately named) title, "the peeps."

Now, although I have provided access to the lives of some people who have been in and out of my own existence in the past few years, I have not yet provided a context for their inclusion in the list. What follows will be a brief rundown of who these people are in relation to myself and why I feel what they have to say is of value, and therefore, worth your perusal time. In no particular order, I have listed them in the sidebar and I guess that the best plan of attack would be to just go through them, from top to bottom. Here goes.

Jeffery Kelly Simpson: That Ring of Confidence

The first time I met Kelly he was trying, unsuccesfully, to reign in an editorial meeting of the Phoenix. At that point, I hadn't been involved with the paper for more than a few issues and when he finally managed to grab everyone's attention, his first comment was directed at me: "Who are you and why are you here?" He then kicked me out and thus began the makings our friendship. Since then, Jeff and I have traveled to Edmonton and Newfoundland for various CUP (Canadian University Press) conferences, and hosted one of our own back in K-town. Jeff now resides in Vancouver and as far as I know is still trying to finance his carreer as a freelance writer by slutting himself out to the corporate machine that is Rogers AT&T. Look for his stuff on Metroblogger Vancouver and in Kelowna's other local rag, eVent! magazine. Kelly was the man responsible for my shifting to Macintosh from Microsoft and I bought his powerbook off him for a very reasonable sum plus a few girlie drinks, which I have yet to deliver.

Lisa Dawn Hamilton: Lisa Dawn Land: The life and times of a Canadian in Texas

LD and I have known each other for about seven or eight years. When we first met, I wanted to get more involved in the Vancouver community theatre scene and Hammy was the Stage Manager for a local production of Sinbad the Sailor. As this was both Vancouver and community theatre, she immediately made the assumption that I was gay but neglected to broach the subject for quite some time. It wasn't until we both declared our mutual desire to break up with our partners at the time that she discovered my truly hetero nature. Soon after, LD and I became roomates (along with another longterm friend of mine, Mike, who has not yet enetered the bloggosphere). If we had more room in the church, Hammy would have been up there with me when I got married instead of sitting in the rows, and I'm proud to have her as one of my closest friends. LDH is currently attending the University of Texas in Austin, and pursuing a PhD in Psychology... and true to her Scorpio nature, her focus is on female sexuality. I hope she never gives up her penchant for polyester and clothes that are so loud they put most '80s hairbands to shame.

Olwen Cowan: Adventures in Ollyland

I have only known Olly Dolly for a couple of years, but I sometimes wonder if she and LD aren't cut from the same genetic code. Seriously, Olly has an energy and uninhibited nature that is unequated and that little university in the Okanagan hasn't got a chance in hell of containing it. Girl, you crazy! Olly is a semi-retired latte-slinger who now runs the show over at my old stomping grounds, the Phoenix and as far as I know, she is an undeclared major: fitting, as she fails to fit into any pre-ordained slot that I know of. That being said, she seems to have fallen into the same rut as many of us lately, and needs to blog more for the good of the people.

Rose Hodwitz: Delphically Dark

To the best of my recollection, Rosie broke my thumb on my 30th birthday when, in a gin-induced phantasmic moment, I feebly attempted to punch her in the boob. I first met her in one of John Lent's late-night marathon rambling sessions on Canadian Poetry. Maybe it was the many hair colours, or the tattoos and peircings, or just the fact that we both needed someone to talk to during a break from John's musings, but either way, I found her intriguing and we became solid amigos in a matter of seconds. I credit Rose for my conversion to and acceptance of feminist thought, something that I had both feared and shied away from ignorantly for many years. Rosie has two degrees: the first in Education, and the second in History. She currently resides in one of my favourite British Columbian towns, and is negotiating a fine balance between a state of post-graduation, home renovation, and political activism. So cool.

Sheila Lewis: The Sky Fell

Sheila was the first person I met when I returned to college after an 8 year hiatus As She is a Vernon-ite at heart, and I a converted Kelowna-ite, our friendship was put on pause until we were reunited in a couple of classes at UBC-O last year. Sheila and I fought our way through lectures on Olde/Middle English, anti-Apartheid Lit and an unforgettable stint as TAs for the worst supervisor in the history of UBC-O's Department of Management. Miss Lewis is currently a graduate student at UBC-O looking anthropologically at the definition(s) of "home," and despite her refusal to admit to her own talents, She is also a pretty-darned good writer of poetry.

Shayne Robinson and Joanna Groves: Shayne and Jo Take over the World (Ulsan)

Shayne and Jo both graduated last year and are currently teaching English in Korea. They found love while pursuing justice and fair-treatment of/for students across Canada as active members within the Canadian Federation of Students. Although I am only just beginning to get to know Jo, she seems to be the best thing to happen to Shayne since I have known him. When I first met him, Shayne was sporting a foot-tall red mohawk, and what must have been at least a ten-pound chain from his waist. Even though he has since cut his hair and denounced his vegetarian ways, it is clear that he is a man of ideals and will never completely sell out to the man... which I find strangely comforting. He'll talk a blue streak and insult you sixteen ways before you even catch the first, but for some odd reason, I like that ugly mofo.

Jason Harman: The Trapdoor in the Sun; JH's Travel Photoblog

Harman. I have always believed that this guy has a secret apocalyptic plot that would bring the many systems of society to their knees like something out of a Margaret Atwood novel. In the same vein, I would not be surprised to learn that he harbours an underground railroad in his basement for bunny rabbits seeking refuge from the political terrors of communist-stricken warrens in Tibet. Seriously, on first appearances, Jason is the quiet, mild-mannered guy next door but the more I get to know him, the more I realise that he could quite possibly change the world as we know it. Read on and enjoy.

Endrene Sheppard: The Habit of Happiness

Endrene was the first person to give me a shot at the Phoenix (and incidentally, the one who invited me to the aforementioned meeting that Kelly booted me out of). A wildcard, an artist, an English teacher? Yep, Endrene's blog is all about her experiences in Japan as a teacher of English and the wackiness that ensues. I lost touch with her a few years ago when she graduated with a Fine Arts degree from OUC but have recently discovered her website. I am still unsure how, but I managed to convince her to give us one of her paintings as a wedding gift and it remains a focal point in our living room and generator of conversation to this day.

Wow, that took longer than expected. Hopefully this little overview will give the readership of this blog a better sense of the links on the side. Of course, most of the people who read this blog are the people I just mentioned and all it did was inform them of some anecdotal tidbits. But that's okay too. Really, I did this as an exercise to recall and solidify my own connections with the people who have influenced my life in both the recent and not-so-recent past. Hope you enjoyed it.

Back to the beginning...

2006-07-10T18:58:00.000-07:00

Today I went to the gym for the first time in years. I always make this promise to myself each time I return to my summer work camp setting. Usually I only last a few weeks before the routine starts to slip. However, this time I hope to maintain my commitment (for at least a little longer) as one of our apprentices is an extremely dedicated gym attendee. I have found that having a partner to go with makes it much more difficult to shirk the responsibility. That being said, Mark's in his early 20s and I remember how much easier it was to go when I was that age. Bah, I've been using age as an excuse for a few years already--time to shit or get off the pot, I suppose.

Okay that's it. I need to keep this a short entry because my last one was so long-winded and also because my fingers and arms don't seem to be doing what I tell them to after the workout.

In case anyone is curious, I'm doing this to get in better shape; not to become a juice monkey!!! I'm 6' tall and weigh somewhere around 205-210 lbs. Ideally, I'd like to be somewhere around 190-200 lbs and lose this spare tire I've been lugging through university for 5 years. That last statement is technically inacurate: 5 years ago I could see my ab muscles without flexing so it seems there is an inverse ratio between ab visibility and length of time spent reading and staring at computer screens. There it is kids, yet another reason to finish your degree asap and not take the extended version.

Seriously, I'm going now.

The end of the rainbow...

2006-07-09T23:46:00.000-07:00

I went fishing tonight. It wasn’t a long or heavily organized trip or anything, just myself and a guy I work with deciding to go out and try our luck. For the record, my luck lately at this particular sport has been pretty poor—piss poor in fact. I haven’t caught a fish for almost a year.

Anyhow, after driving around for almost an hour and trying unsuccessfully to find a fishing hole another guy from work claims to be the spot right now, my co-worker, Mike, and I decided to just stop at one of the bridges south of our camp. This particular spot on the Ells River is about 20 km north of Fort Mackay, a reservation 80 km north of Fort McMurray and about 40 km south of our camp. Not that this little geographical tidbit means much to anyone who isn’t from around here, I just like trying to put my own living conditions into some perspective: mainly that I currently reside way the fuck out in the middle of nowhere.

So, Mike and I took up on either side of the bridge and after about 20 minutes of unsuccessful casting, the typical restlessness began to surface and we both started to wander along the river in search of the perfect spot, changing hooks and tackle on a whim. We found a nice shallow bend to the river where a batch of wild raspberries was growing. We had to sort of bushwhack through tall grass and reeds to get to the shore, however, and this process stirred up a veritable swarm of mosquitoes. Mike gave up quickly and returned to our previous location, but I stuck it out a bit longer, having managed to navigate my way onto a large flat rock out of the reeds and sitting squarely in the riverbed. Once I was alone, serenity finally overcame and my hands started to act in response to the elements: winds, current direction, speed, depth, and other natural factors all play a part in the success of any angler.

Now I am not claiming to be an overly successful fisherman—especially on a river—but I have caught my share. My friends from Nelson, Steph and Quinn, regularly fish the Kootenay river and when I lived there, we would spend hours casting away and drinking beers as the sky got dark and we were progressively becoming later and later for dinner. Quinn always outfished us both. I always thought it was luck then, but more recently I have come to the understanding that Quinn was probably much more in tune with the river and its various elemental hurdles. Quinn is the best river fisherman I know and sometimes I really miss those days with the boys.

Anyhow, I have digressed. As I was saying, I was finally getting into the groove and after unintentionally clearing out a large portion of the weeds in my area, I realized that unless they were just passing through, the fish wouldn’t be where I was because it was too fast and shallow. Likely, there would be a nice little pool just after the rapids and, even better, it seemed that there was some shade also as the river bent around a greenbelt and out of my line of vision.

Off I went on a trek through the brush trying to navigate my way to the clearing I imagined would be just around the corner. As I got deeper and deeper into greenbelt (which was actually the beginnings of a forest) a thought crossed my mind that I may be wasting my time. In fact, the actual thought was something more like: “What is it about guys that when they get a month’s worth of stubble and strap a knife to their belt all of a sudden they think they’re Grizzly-fucking-Adams?” I think this thought popped into my mind once I remembered just how big the thistles and dense the underbrush in Alberta can be at times. I was just about to end my quest through the muskeg and fallen birch when I heard the rapids again, but now they were slightly diminished. A quick hop through the final bit of terrain and I found myself on a short little shelf by the river looking directly into a pool of water that was formed by the larger rocks on the side as the rapids began to taper off. I glanced up at the horizon momentarily and saw that the river took yet another bend in the reverse direction and there was a rather large scree covered with treetops and sand up ahead. I could probably have kept going and discovered numerous other locales that would be fitting but there was no need for any of that because I knew at once this was my spot.

For a moment I relaxed and took it all in; the motion of the water, the brush and trees that would affect my backswing, the reduced temperature, etc. I dropped yet another level into my state of relaxation and was now in a total state of Zen. Although I have had this feeling many times before, it always comes the fore of my thoughts in these moments that this is why I love fishing.

Once I was ready, I checked my rod, adjusted the tension, pulled back, and sent my hook off on its trajectory. My cast was near perfect—the hook landed exactly where I wanted and the line was slowly trailing down behind it into the water making those beautiful little ringlets that let anglers know they have just made a great cast. I let the hook drop a second or two before getting too anxious (a trick I learned from watching Quinn so many years ago) and then I began to reel it in.

My hook got snagged immediately. At first I felt a little rush at the high-pitched whine of my line being drawn out, but I quickly realized that this was no fish… it was a rock. A really fucking big rock from the feel of it too. I tried to pull and tug gently at the hook in an attempt to pry it loose. I tightened the tension so that I could get a heavier pull. When I saw my rod bent fully in half and still had no luck moving the line, I knew I was in a bit of trouble. Finally, I tightened the tension all the way, pointed my rod in line with the snag, and pulled with both hands in a sharp clean jerk. The rod came loose. I began winding up my line and knew immediately that I had left my hook and leader in the river.

I felt no anger at this, not even when I remembered that I had left all of my other tackle back at the bridge. Even if I had had a fly or hook on me, I would have turned and trekked back out through the muskeg anyway. The river had beaten me, fair and square. And that’s what I did. I took another look at the terrain, secured my now-vacant line, and started back to the bridge. My fishing for today was over and I was completely satisfied.

It had rained heavily and quickly before we started our excursion to the bridge and as we were leaving I saw a rainbow in full splendor over the river. All of its colours were clearly visible and I knew that I would be back to try my luck in this neck of the woods again.

An open letter...

2006-06-28T20:43:00.001-07:00

I posted this in the laundry room which I share with about 50 other men in camp. I would have liked to have posted a picture of the original document as I hastily wrote it on a scrap sheet of paper in a large black felt pen (the only materials at my disposal) but, alas, I left the digital camera at home. Enjoy.

To whom it may concern:
Thanks so much for changing over my laundry without asking. The best part was when you shrunk my new shirt—that was awesome! Maybe next time I’ll give you the fifty bucks instead of wasting it on updated fashion.
I’d also like to give a big shout-out to the fuckwad who washed his greasy coveralls in the machine before I used it. I always wanted a zebra-print outfit and now my wildest dreams have come true!
Overall, this has been a terrific experience. I sure am lucky to have neighbours who are as considerate and as patient as you. Thanks for thinking of me, and if there is anything I can do to return the favour don’t hesitate to ask.
Sincerely,
The guy with the greasy shirt and short sleeves

Greed comes in black.

2006-06-19T13:07:00.000-07:00

Prior to this post many of you probably were unaware that I have since taken a call with my local union hall to work in Fort McMurray, AB once again for the remainder of the summer... or longer. I know that I should be updating everyone on the events leading up to now (and I hope to soon) but I need to get this off my chest, so read on if you like. It's long, but I'd appreciate it.

"Thunder and lightning, are very exciting..." but only when they don't cost a guy a half-day of pay. We got sent home this afternoon (without pay) from work at 11am because of a storm that blew through our jobsite. But I'm getting ahead of myself and should probably provide some context for the rant that is about to ensue.

Although there is a massive project or two on the go right now, things have been slow with the hall this summer. Many of the oilsand projects that have traditionally gone to organized labour have recently been bid (and won) by non-union contractors who cut costs by paying a their employees a lower wage, providing less (if any) benefits, and cutting out overtime rates. This particular project that I am on (CNRL) is the only oilsand bid that our hall has managed to negotiate this year and even it has been subdivided into many parcels, some of which went union, but most of which did not. As we are now sharing the jobsite and camp facilities with people from "the other side," it would be sufficient to say that I am thouroughly unimpressed.

I fear for the state of organized labour in Canada and the U.S. as many of the perks and benefits that were so hard won (ie: double-time weekends, company-provided tools, medical and dental coverage, etc.) are now seriously under threat. The oilsands companies have slowly been forcing the Alberta Building Trades to make concessions for years now (despite the fact that they need the sheer numbers provided by union labour to complete their series of mega-projects) and this project is the first to incorporate both organized and non- in one setting. This project is the one which is expected to break the many contentious bargaining issues that have been maintained for so long by the Building Trades; this is being done through systems of benefits and punishment, and is primarily directed at the place where it hurts blue-collar workers the most... in their pocketbooks. Currently, the union side of this job has seen zero overtime hours while the non- side has been working steadily through the weekends. The difference? Unionized Collective Agreements mandate that all overtime hours after 50 must be paid at double-time rates. Non-unionized labour does not; their side pays only time + 1/2. While that may not seem too bad, one needs to keep in mind that even working 'round the clock, a project such as this could go on for years. At a difference of $15/hour, and assuming that a person works 20 extra hours every two weeks, that works out to almost $8,000 lost income every year! This is something that we unionized tradespeople are unwilling to sacrifice.

The oil companies' argument is that they can not afford to pay 7,000 workers (at peak production periods) the extra wage. Sure, if this was a small business I could see where cutting such "extravagant" costs would be necesssary... but this is OIL we're talking about, not the mom and pop shoe-cobbling operation down the street! This plant, once the beginning stages are completed, is expected to produce approximately 100,000 barrels of oil per day. Now, just for kicks, let's do some more math...

The cost of producing one of those barrels is approximately $12 (conservatively) and the cost of purchase per barrel lies somewhere around $70... this works out to a profit of about $58.

Now multiply that by 100,000:

$5.8 Million profit/day.

Now multiply that by 365:

I get $2,117,000,000 per year (that's $ 2.1 Billion).

This oil reserve is expected to last a minimum of 20 years (keep in mind that Syncrude's reserve was initially expected to last 20 years in the late '70s... they've been pulling 250,000 barrels out daily and have since completed an expansion that will allow them to obtain 500,000 barrels a day and have reduced their production costs to $9/barrel with no sign of slowing down!) So multiply that $2.1 Billion by 20 and you end up somewhere in the neighbourhood of $40 Billion... give or take a Billion.

How does that $15/hour look now? Is it still unfair to ask that I am compensated for my skills, efforts, and time? Am I still "nickle and diming" these oil companies to death? Ask me how my wife feels every time I leave her to make a fair wage in this country. Ask me how I enjoy sharing a washroom with 50 other men. Ask me how it makes me feel to see someone working for less while I sit in a 10' x 5' x 8' room (read: cell) because they don't see their contributions to these projects as significant enough to warrant the unions' demands.

Ask me this and I'll tell you how I feel, but if you've been following along, you should already know my answer.

The Chemical Worker's Song (Process Man)
by Great Big Sea

Well a process man am I and I'm tellin' you no lie
I work and breathe among the fumes that tread across the sky
There's thunder all around me and there's poison in the air
There's a lousy smell that smacks of hell and dust all in me hair

And it's go boys go
They'll time your every breath
And every day you're in this place you're two days nearer death
But you go

Well I've worked among the splitters and I breathe the oily smoke
I've shovelled up the gypsum and it 'neigh on makes you choke
I've stood knee-deep in cyanide, got sick with a caustic burn
Been working rough, I've seen enough to make your stomach churn

And it's go boys go
They'll time your every breath
And every day you're in this place you're two days nearer death
But you go

There's overtime and bonus opportunities galore
And the young men like their money and they all come back for more
But soon you're knocking on and you look older than you should
For every bob made on the job, you pay with flesh and blood

And it's go boys go
They'll time your every breath
And every day you're in this place you're two days nearer death
But you go

Well a process man am I and I'm tellin' you no lie
I work and breathe among the fumes that tread across the sky
There's thunder all around me and there's poison in the air
There's a lousy smell that smacks of hell and dust all in me hair

And it's go boys go
They'll time your every breath
And every day you're in this place you're two days nearer death
But you go

Viewpoint...

2006-05-11T11:54:00.000-07:00

It is well past lunch and, having just discovered that there will be no meal on the train, I turn toward the window as a means of distraction.

Sparse sections of lush farmland spring forth from the arid desert sands. Garbage collects along the berm of the tracks as we amble by without a care.

Clildren in bright clothing play in the shade afforded by a mud-brick residence, blissfully unaware of the roles that they will one day be forced to adopt. Or are they? There is a sadness in the eyes of the aged and poor. Their skin is blackened by the sun as they labour to produce goods which will never enter their mouths and still they smile...

All of this drifts by as I sit watching from my first-class window seat. Just as my memories of this moment are doomed to dwindle upon my return, my hunger begins to fade.

Pic perusal...

2006-05-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

Here are some photos for you to look at. I was going to attach them to the bulk email but Mary's dial-up provider put the kaibosh on that pretty quick. I did manage to upload some to the Flickr account so it seems that only the faithful get a glimpse of our pictures from Cairo, Giza, and Alexandria...

There are so many more, I promise. However, with the full intention of providing others in the future, I am limiting it to three pictures for now. In all likelihood we'll be holding another (infamous) picture-viewing party upon our return, and yes, the same drinking rules will probably apply. I wish that I could show some of the others here; Tami is magic with a camera lens...

Sound and Vision

2006-05-06T14:18:00.000-07:00

Waves of dry heat threaten to induce a swoon as I step down and venture onto the mezzanine. It can’t possibly be the weather alone; the trains have to disperse energy in some form… don’t they? A policeman in white leans on his rifle and casually dabs sweat from his cheek with a cloth.

The sweat drips into my ears.

Once again, the muezzin’s call blares throughout my sound field, this time it’s canned and the song echoes throughout the station. The din drowns out all other noise, but through the breaks lustful hisses sound from all angles as multiple sets of eyes bore into the flesh of female companions.

Horns blast and fade.

Cars swerve and merge within and beyond my field of vision—once they are gone, they are not my concern. I reach out the window for assurance that our bags remain on the roof, while the driver cackles madly as he reads our minds.

I look inside and realize my complacency.

Cairo - Day 1

2006-05-02T14:30:00.000-07:00

I wake up from a doze to the sound of music. It is dawn and the Muslim faithful are being called to prayer. How long have I been asleep? Maybe twenty minutes, maybe less. Tami is hot beside me and we are both dead tired but still wired from the flight. It feels like I’ve been awake for days.

1pm. The heat is beating down upon us like the breath of a dragon and my backpack has created a pool of sweat despite the fact that I have chosen to wear my lightest shirt. We later discover that today is actually beautiful—one of Cairo’s coolest all week. After walking for only 30 minutes I am done. A slight altercation at the Metro, a market down the street, keeps me aware of my own privilege as an English speaking white male. We hurry back to the safety and cool of Mary’s apartment.

Shelby, Mary’s friend from Winnipeg and local coworker meets us here. Coffee and introductions pass quickly and we find ourselves racing through the lawless traffic of Heliopolis, horns and tires sounding from all directions, the smell of diesel fuel fresh in my nose. We take a sunset boat ride, they call it Faluca, for an hour on the Nile and discover how much we needed to relax.

Three beers, an order of falafel, some dips, another taxi race, and we’re back.

Did today really happen? I can’t answer for sure. I’m still lost in time and space.

Off again...

2006-04-29T23:41:00.000-07:00

Unbelievably fast, my free time between school and previous engagements has dwindled to nothing, which seems to happen once I begin working on that ongoing woodworking project I call a deck. A carpenter I am not. Speaking of carpenters, I'm going to Egypt for a couple of weeks.

Tomorrow morning, Kim, Tami, and I will board a plane for Vancouver, spend the day there, and then leave for Amsterdam around suppertime. We'll get a few hours in the city of sex and smoke before we board another plane and land in Africa about 2am Tuesday morning.

Mary, a long time friend of the girls, has been living in Cairo for over 2 years and has taken it upon herself to arrange our trip. I must say it has been nice not to have to think about all of the little details. Perhaps this will actually turn out to be a "vacation" after all.

I plan on doing the blog thing rather than sending out bulk emails. (Tami still doesn't get it but I have faith that she will come 'round in time). Egypt is 10 hours ahead so we'll be pretty messed up upon arrival. I likely won't post anything until we get accustomed to the time and climate change (it's somewhere around 40-50 degrees Celcius there now).

The plan for Day 1: Wake up. Find a coffee shop (preferably with a nice view). Play backgammon with a local.

And that's it for now. None of my grades have been posted for this semester but I know two out of four already. Looks like I won't be breaking that 80 plateau after all.

Dahab

2006-04-25T10:15:00.000-07:00

Great.
Dahab

Maybe we'll be altering our itinerary.

That old dude is my father...

2006-04-19T09:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's been crazy again lately. School is almost done; one essay and 1/4 of a project left. Yesterday I wrote an exam and last Friday I handed in an essay. In between all of that, we held a 60th birthday party for my dad and I spent a day fishing with him and the boys. It was pretty cool because his brothers came in from Edmonton to visit. Most of the photos from that are on Ian's camera so it may be some time before I can post them but I'll try to put one up of the old man at his party. I think he had a good time... we rented a hot tub, had a fire, and got drunk--three of my dad's favorite things to do.
Gotta' get moving, that sociology project needs to be handed in today.

Chili time...

2006-04-11T11:14:00.000-07:00

In an ideal world, I wouldn't have to eat, sleep, or write essays. However, as this time of year becomes increasingly demanding, I find that a little stress relief is usually in order. What I find usually works best for me, is cooking.

Today I made a pot of chili. All told, it took about 45 minutes to whip up and should be ready in a few hours. I swear that the slow cooker was invented by a university student. Here's how I do it:

1. Get together some ingredients

1 lb. ground chicken or turkey (optional)
1 tsp. butter
1 large onion
1 green pepper
4 toes of garlic
4 tomatos
1 habanero pepper (optional)
2 15oz cans of tomato sauce
1 15oz can of kidney beans
1 Tbsp. chili powder
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. hot pepper sauce from Mexico

2. Brown the chicken/turkey/beef in a skillet (add salt and pepper to taste). Set aside when done.
3. Chop the onions, green pepper, and garlic; throw 'em in a pan with the butter; fry 'em up until the onions are translucent.
4. Throw the sauce, kidney beans, and whatever else you have into the slow cooker and turn it up.
5. Add the meat, the onion mixture, and all the spices to the cooker.
6. Cook it down for at least an hour--I usually do it for about 5--and stir occasionally.

*For extra fun, I sometimes add mushrooms or a can of corn, usually whatever I have around ends up in the chili.

Don't forget to shred up some cheese to go on top of your bowl and "Viola!," you're cookin' with gas (literally).

This ought to help me get through round two of paper-writing hell. By the way, when I was at work yesterday, I saw a book that caught my eye entitled Hell by Jake Chapman--this is the only problem with working at a library. Google it to see what this guy is up to: it's wild, perverse, and disturbing all at once. I like it.

Public displays of homophobia...

2006-04-10T09:36:00.000-07:00

Hey all, sorry that there hasn't been much fresha-fresha up here lately. Things were wacky last week and I just needed some down time. Here are some updates on what was going on.

Yesterday was my dad's 60th birthday and we got to chat for a bit online but the Skype connection was bunk and we kept getting cut off. I'm glad that dad and I talk more these days... growing up with him was tough for me. He comes in from Peru on Friday and I think we're going fishing Saturday. I got a great backwoods mapbook for the Okanagan area and there are a ton of places I'd like to check out.

Yesterday was also my last day working for Venture Academy. Whoot, whoot!!! The deal was that they would pay for my season's pass in exchange for me going up 15 times over the season and supervising their troubled teens on the hill. I'd have been done a few weeks ago if it wasn't for the injury I sustained just before Christmas. Next weekend the hill closes and I think Tami and I are going up on Sunday or Monday for the last day. They got a ton of snow yesterday and I think it's going to keep dumping until Tuesday or Wednesday: sweet!

Last week I sent a letter in to our local classic rock radio station: Power 104 FM. This should entertain those of you who only read this thing for my rants:

Admittedly, my wife and I rarely tune in to your morning broadcast, however, if the discussion that we heard this morning is any reflection of your usual content, then we haven’t been missing much.

My wife and I were appalled by your broadcast this morning (April 5th, 2006, approximately 7:00am). The discussion began around the release of Brokeback Mountain on DVD yesterday, a seemingly harmless enough topic. However, the radio hosts then engaged in a conversation involving a caller that led to the making of homophobic jokes and commentary.

If these people can not look past the only (very brief) sexual scene in a movie, how can we accept that they will be able to deal maturely with other issues of importance that will come up in the future? We are forced to question the ability of your staff to set a standard of decent behaviour and community acceptance. The movie held a much deeper message that was obviously lost on your hosts. It is saddening that some people will take your hosts' commentary to heart and choose not to experience this groundbreaking and brave attempt at breaking down barriers of hate by the movie industry.

Who are these dinosaurs that don’t realize that self-proclaimed homophobia in today’s day and age is akin to denying the existence of the holocaust or advocating racism? Homophobia is hate. This conversation would have been unacceptable anywhere in the public (in schools, in government, etc.) not for the fact that it centred on the topic of homosexuality, which should be discussed more frequently and openly in our public systems, but because of the dangerous and hurtful message that it sends to citizens who listen to your station. If spreading hate is unacceptable in any other public institution, what makes your station any different?

We are appalled at the decision by your station to approve this material. We are disgusted with your blatant discrediting of people’s personal freedoms and individual identities. We are positive that we will never listen to your station again.

Sincerely,
Tami and Todd Leskie

I sent this out to the Program Director and all of the talent at Power and only got one reply. The next day Jasmin Doobay, the news director, replied with this:

Thank you for your comments Tami and Todd.

I believe the wonderful thing about being human is our ability to see and hear everything from different perspectives.

I heard Liz comment that the movie was slow and that it's a huge love story.
I heard John being typical John, a self admitted man's man who's very uncomfortable with the content of the movie and won't see it.
I haven't seen the movie yet, but am very much looking forward to renting it.

Liz and I later commented on the double standard of men getting excited about the idea of two women together, but not two men...and most woman being comfortable with both gay or lesbian love.

From my perspective...there is no hatred here towards homosexuality.

Sorry you heard it that way.

Jasmin

I appreciate the fact that Jasmin took the time to review the show and reply but I also wonder why she was the only one to respond. Kind of makes me wonder what the Program Director thinks about this, he obviously doesn't deem it important enough to reply to. Despite the only "official" position put forth by the radio station, I still have to disagree. The bit began with a personality (arguably a celebrity) who influences thousands of listeners daily claiming that he is a homophobe. This admission, coupled with his decision to make jokes about homosexuality, sends a message to the listening public that condones homophobia in a city that is already plagued with many forms of intolerance based on white, middle-class "values." In related news, see the cover story of the Kelowna Capital News from April 7:

"Gay Students Threatened"

And that's really a long enough post for now. The above news link may only take you to the homepage, but you should have no problem finding the article by its title. As for this blog, I removed the Flick'r bagde in hopes that it would solve the layout issues that readers using Explorer are experiencing. Apparently, that didn't work so I need to look at removing the Library Thing widget as well, even though I like the idea of people being able to peruse a portion of my library. Maybe the solution is to convert the world to Macs... yeah! I have heard that it looks fine when using Firefox, which is a much better option all around for Windows users in my opinion. Either way, the counter continues to rise, so that means people are still returning. Thanks for that.

Okay, I'm out. I should be done the madness of final papers and exams by Friday the 20th. Sounds like the perfect excuse to have a party on Saturday the 21st.
:)

Mood: writer/public commentator/super hero

Gauntlet.

2006-04-05T10:30:00.000-07:00

Most of a 500g bag of Twizzlers, a tin of sour grapefruit candies, 2L of Coca-Cola, approximately 4 ounces of rum, 2 naps, and an indefinite number of hours later, I am officially done the rough draft of my paper for Jennifer’s class. However, there is no rest for the wicked. I still have to edit the final draft of this paper by 3pm; write a review of the movie Amandla!: A Revolution in Four Part Harmony by 6pm tonight; edit the final draft of my presentation for Paty’s class and present it tommorow at 8:30am; and mark 37 papers for the Management class that Sheila and I are TAs for by 10am tomorrow.

Is it any wonder that the average university student packs on 15 pounds each year that they are in school?

Actually.

2006-04-04T22:46:00.000-07:00

Not so long ago, one of the greatest affronts to the spoken version of the English language wormed its way into common usage. Like, I was going shopping the other day and it was, like, thirty degrees outside and I wanted to, like, rip my eyes out with my bare fingers.

Lately, however, I'm noticing another term more frequently and it has succeeded in knocking "like" off of the pedestal for my most hated word used in an inappropriate context. That word is "actually."

Today I had to watch a presentation in one of my classes and one of the ladies continually tried to back up her research by using this term as if it gave her some extra credibility that we were all supposed to accept as if it was the word of Christ himself. It was all I could do not to jump out of my seat and scream at the top of my lungs: "Is that actually what the data said?!!!?? Because, actually, your overuse of this term has actually managed to do the opposite of what you actually wanted it to and now I actually think that you actually didn't do the research that you are claiming to have actually done and I actually think that you actually don't even actually actually understand what the fuck it is that you are actually even saying!!!!!"

I am sure that the stress of my late paper actually has nothing to do with my short fuse these days. I want to rip out my eyes. I wanted to rip out her eyes. I think that even eye ripping wouldn't have calmed me down sufficiently had I not managed to stifle that rant in class.

Creepily enough, "Doctor My Eyes" by Jackson Browne has just come on the satellite. A sign? Perhaps. Maybe I'm so mentally fucked that I am seeing things everywhere that don't even exist. Doctor, my eyes feel like they have burned out of my skull from staring at this screen for a week straight.

Ah well, two more days and I can sleep again.

Slip sliding away...

2006-04-03T10:28:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a lyric just seems to fit, y'know?

I just opened my eyes from a really brief nap. Sure, it's only 10:30am but I don't discriminate with my nap times. Anyhow, I opened my eyes and it was like Paul Simon was talking to me.

Flash to Penelope Cruz voiceover:
Abre los ojos...

You see, back in reality, I am supposed to be writing an essay. I've read the book, done the research, I even have an outline but I just can't seem to get the words on the page. Not only that, I just don't seem to be getting anything done. There are only two weeks left until the end of term, until the end of my undergraduate carreer, until I can start a new chapter of my life. And yet, with all of that in mind, I am slowing down in productivity. It's almost as if I don't want to finish. And with that, the song lyrics become relevant.

"You know the nearer your destination the more you're slip sliding away..."

Link test...

2006-04-02T19:34:00.000-07:00

I had a bit of an issue in my last post with the link to a site featuring the Birdman. This is a test link that should take you to another famous birdman.

Robert Stroud

Thanx for your patience.

Bird stories...

2006-03-31T12:45:00.000-08:00

After all of my posts that rant on about how I'm continually kicking punks out of my yard, coming home to people rooting through my garage, the wanton chopping down of trees, and discovering that our creepy-old-guy neighbour pleasures himself while hiding naked behind his lilac bushes and staring over the fence at Tami and Kim sunbathing in the backyard, it's nice to post about some of the endearing features that come with living in our neighbourhood.

I am pleased to announce that the quail have returned!

Every summer, we have about 15 or so quail that run around our yard, cheeping and picking through the bark mulch for grubs and other buggy goodness. I was a little concerned that with all of the changes on the other side of the fence this year they might have found another place to hang but my fears were unwarranted because as I was staring in a daze out the window and waiting for my first cup of joe to perk this morning, I saw a familiar head feather making its way around the perimiter of the deck. I must admit, I felt a palpitation or two. These little guys are so cute. Fat and dumb, but cute nonetheless.

Toward the end of summer they'll have babies. For the past two years, one family has returned to the cedar hedges in our backyard as a safe place to nest. For about a week, the only sign of the quail will be the adult male (two of which are pictured above) who will perch on a high limb in the pine tree above the ground level nest and stay on the lookout for predators. It's freakin' hilarious to watch as he sits there for days on end, head turning first left, then right, pause for ten seconds, and then bust out a whoop. He'll repeat this action all week until the female finally emerges, newborns in tow, and they all begin to make the rounds, circling the mulch looking for more grubs and buggy goodness.

A few years back, Tami and Kim rescued one of the babies who got separated from the rest of them. It was maybe a day old so they brought him in and called up their friend, Chris Charlesworth (noted local bird expert). Chris (aka: the Birdman) gave them some tips on how to care for it and they managed to keep it safe until a day or two later when the mother was frantically running around the yard squawking like a maniac. The girls knew what to do and let the little guy go. Ever since, the quail have continued to return as a place to give birth and we've recognised our duty to help them out whenever we can.

About a month or so ago I spotted a black cat skulking around those hedges sniffing and looking up to no good. Now that our fat little friends have returned, I may have to do something about the cat. Perhaps I'll bust out the old slingshot. Could be a good excuse to buy an air rifle. Nothing will stop me from coming to the aid of those dumb liitle birds!

Mood: Iron Maiden

Chris Charlesworth

Too much milk

2006-03-25T11:03:00.000-08:00

Apparently, I'm the worst potato-pancake-maker in the world.

Normaly, I don't like essentialising or placing blame on any one particular factor in any given situation but seeing how this recipe consists of only three ingredients (potato, milk, and an egg), I can safely say that I have isolated the problem.

Too much milk.

Olly Olly Oxen Free

2006-03-25T09:30:00.000-08:00

I'm sick of chasing people out of my yard. Really, I don't want to have to do this anymore.

Night before last, about 10:30pm, Tami and I were chilling out in the living room. Once again, she was on the couch and I was in my chair. For whatever reason, Tami glanced up at the kitchen window and saw a person crossing by the window into the backyard. As I bolted out of my chair and out the door, yelling obscenities the whole way, the two people who were outside hopped over my fence (one of them with a bike) and split directions. The guy on the bike booked it north but the other guy, for reasons that I am still trying to comprehend, decided to stop running, turn around and have an argument with me!

Me: GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD!!!
Dude: Hey man, relax! I didn't take anything.
Me: I don't give a fuck... I've had too many people stealing shit from me... GET OUT OF MY YARD!
Dude: Stop yelling, man, I didn't steal anything, I'm just running from the cops!
Me: ??? *stunned silence*.... GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY YARD!!!!

At which point, buddy ran off again and I went into the house and called the cops.

About twenty minutes later, the police showed up in the church/field behind my house. Turns out that this kid is a local teenaged car-thief who the officer recognised immediately as being out past his probationary-imposed 10pm curfew. Unfortunately, because there is only one way in/out of that property by car and about a dozen on foot, the kid got away easily. The cop then went to the kid's house but because the kid was "home free," he couldn't be charged with anything.

So now we're contemplating barbed wire along our back fence. I really don't want to do that because barbed wire reminds me of cowboys and penitentiaries but what else can I do? I don't even know if I can put it there because of by-law issues and any stupid fucker who cuts himself while running through my yard can sue me for willfully inflicting violence or some shit like that. Maybe I'll just grow thick blackberry bushes all around.

The whole thing makes me sick.

Flashback...

2006-03-21T21:11:00.000-08:00

I just had a moment.

It was one of those few and far between bits of life that when they hit, you know you have to cherish them and take whatever you can from them. This recent happenstance was inspired by Bruce Cockburn.

Dinner has just finished, our impromptu guests have gone to their respective homes, and we're digesting in silence. Tami reads The DaVinci Code on the couch while I rock silently and browse the sites of friends for new postings. Over the satellite, the first notes of Bruce Cockburn's "Wondering Where the Lions Are" drift into earshot and I am instantly transported to a time of innocence. A time that I remember as always being happy. A time of youth.

How is it that music holds the power to displace me like this? The memories flood back in waves:

i forgot about this song... when was the last time i heard this... holy shit... i was like, six years old... wow... i remember driving to swimming lessons once when this song was playing over the radio... the pool was in such a weird part of the city and it was in someone's private residence... toni and tanya had strawberry shortcake dolls that i used to pretend i hated but secretly loved to smell... the only way to get to that pool was through the intersection where dad and toni had the accident... wow...

That was all so long ago but the images--although brief--are vivid.

Tami reads on oblivious to my musings. I see her for the beautiful person that she is and know that she too has become part of my associative memory collections...

Time is funny that way.

The art of doing nothing...

2006-03-20T10:22:00.000-08:00

Yet another post due to procrastination. As that was the original reason I started this journal (if it can be in fact called a journal) it seems fitting that many of the posts here are concerned with wasting time. I wonder if I will still be so concerned with the amount of time I waste once I graguate in a month. Somehow, I doubt it.

I just shooed away some bible thumpers from my doorstep. Why is it that they always come-a-knockin' during regular business hours? Seems a flawed marketing strategy to me. Maybe they're trying to reach all of those "lost souls" that do nothing but lie on the couch consuming large quantities of sugar while trying to avoid assigned readings and work in general. Guilty as charged... good thing they were easy to get rid of.

Things have been steadily ramping up with my last month of school, hence the reason that the frequency of my posting has been lacking lately. Two presentations, four essays, one test and I can move on to bigger and better things: working on my deck and our trip to Egypt at the end of April will be the focus of my immediate attention.

So that's all I have to say for now. Sheila Lewis, intellectual, poet extraordinaire, and good pal has just entered the bloggosphere so check her stuff out, there should be a link on the side amongst all the other peeps who have had the misfortune of falling into my trap and are doomed to be associated with me forever.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....
(*maniacal laughing ensues for eternity also, haunting the aforementioned unfortunates).

All or nothing...

2006-03-13T14:36:00.000-08:00

Apparently, I'm a slave to ideology...

You scored as Green. <'Imunimaginative's Deviantart Page'>

Socialist

100%

Green

100%

Anarchism

100%

Communism

100%

Democrat

67%

Republican

Nazi

Fascism

What Political Party Do Your Beliefs Put You In?
created with QuizFarm.com

Nudes...

2006-03-08T10:29:00.000-08:00

I've started archiving some of the sketches that I've done in the past. Right now there is only one set; a male nude session that I attended sometime in 2004. There is a flash badge on the sidebar if anyone is interested... Keep a lookout for images from other sketch sessions; I'm waiting to get a copy of Photoshop before I post many more. These ones worked out in particular because I used a dark charcoal and had a tonne of contrast. Thus, no photoshopping required.

mobility: from car pools to nomadic lifestyles

2006-03-07T09:49:00.000-08:00

Today got off to a slow start.

I didn't get my reading done in time for Paty's class. Then my car pool slept in so I was almost 20 minutes late by the time I got here. Going to class late and unprepared is just asking for trouble so I figured "screw it" and headed off to the library to get some reading done. On the way, I ran into a classmate of mine who was also on her way to our class so I changed my mind... again... and we walked up to the room together.

However, before we got there, Vicki had a bit of a breakdown. Turns out that her sister is dying (ALS) and probbaly won't make it through the month. Her mother is also really sick with a bronchial infection and really depressed because she has to watch her daughter go through all of this.

I guess that I got inspired to write this post because family is something I've been thinking a lot about over the past year or so. When I first moved to Nelson (Fall, 1996) I was 20 years old and had never been separated from my immediate family before. It was then that I became aware of how much my family means to me. Since that time, I have lived in many different places and my family has been pretty mobile as well (Tanya lived in Ontario for two years, Mom and Dad have been in South America for almost five years now) so the separation has become fairly normalised.

What is not normal, and what has prompted my recent introspection on family relations, is fighting and animosity between relations. My youngest sister, Toni, and I have been fighting now since August. The cause is irrelevant to this post but it forced me to make a choice between siding with my wife or with my sister--probably the hardest choice I have ever had to make.

The time is beginning to wear me down. Both Toni and I refuse to give in and although I am sure that I am in the right, I just may end this sometime soon.

Speaking of ending things, my class is over now and I have other business to attend to.

Happy birthday to my sister Tanya--she's 28 today!
And happy belated birthday to Toni-- she turned 26 last week.

Gangster's Paradise.

2006-02-28T08:36:00.000-08:00

It's 8:30am and way too early for me to fully appreciate the fact that we are watching a movie in class this morning. Sure, Dangerous Minds with Michelle Pfeiffer is way more important that finishing my book and writing my position paper. She's not really convincing as a US Marine, maybe it's just me. Admittedly, the soundtrack isn't that bad... the tag-line for the movie, however, is that bad: "She Broke The Rules... And Changed Their Lives." How many of these movies surrounding naive white teachers in bad-assed black classrooms have been made anyway? Didn't Antonio Banderas just make one about a guy who teaches his kids traditional dance and they mix it with hip-hop or something? Ugh...

It's sleeting heavily out there and I just don't have it in me to stay all day long up here. After this, I'm heading home to sit on my couch with some hot coffee, a blanket, and the laptop to get crack-a-lackin' on this paper.

Mood: cold and wet

Update on the madness...

2006-02-27T08:43:00.001-08:00

I crashed out about 12:30 last night. After the pages began to swim I tried to hold on but once I woke up with the cord of drool connecting me to page # 156 I had to call it quits. The extent of my procrastination is evinced by the following example of a "break" I took from reading. Most people would go have a cookie or even bake some cookies when they need a change of pace to rejuvinate themselves from the monotony of page turning. I made supper. No big deal, a spaghetti sauce takes about 20 minutes to whip up and toss into the ole' slow cooker.

Things got weird about an hour later when I ripped out our shower doors.

This had always been the plan so it wasn't that out of the ordinary when Tami came home with the bar, some hooks, and a curtain. I do question, however, my own need to take on this project at that exact moment in time. The lunacy of academia has finaly solidified in my mind.

Things left to do this week:
-finish the last 232 pages of my book
-write a position paper on it
-give a presentation on the paper
-caulk the tub

Pages a-smokin'...

2006-02-26T21:58:00.000-08:00

I burned off Beloved(Toni Morrison) yesterday and am 120+ pages into Country of My Skull(Antjie Krog) now. Hope to have another 100 or so done before I get some sleep tonight but we'll see how it goes. Test tomorrow on the Morrison book, position paper on Krog due Tues @ 6pm, presentation on position paper Wed @ 6pm. Looks like I'll be busy until Thursday...
Hammie thinks I should syndicate this blog. I don't even know what that entails but I'm guessing it would open up my readership or something. Any thoughts?

The only chemistry I remember from high school are the bad acid trips I had...

2006-02-24T09:38:00.001-08:00

So I took this online quiz that Olwen put up on her blog this morning that was to tell me my perfect major. I ripped through it--because I really should have been doing other things than online quizes with Oprah ads on the sidebar--and it told me that I would best be suited as a Chemistry major.

In actuality, it came up with a list of subjects that would best suit me in order from most fitting to worst:

Chemistry
Psychology
Biology
Dance
Philosophy
Engineering
Anthropology
Theatre
Mathematics
Sociology
English
Linguistics
Journalism
Art

Just a quick run down on some of my related grades in high school and 1st year college for those of you unfamiliar with my educational history:

Chemistry 11: 51%
Biology 12: 23%
Mathematics 12: 23%
English 12: 88%
Psychology 100: 55%
Philosophy 100: withdrawn
Philosophy 120: withdrawn
English 100: 83%

So, figuring that maybe I rushed through the quiz the first time, I tried it again, changing some of my hastily decided earlier answers and going through with a fine tooth comb (so to speak). Here are the new results:

Chemistry (75%)
Biology (75%)
Psychology (75%)
Philosophy (50%)
Mathematics (42%)
Theatre (42%)
Engineering (42%)
Dance (42%)
Linguistics (33%)
Anthropology (33%)
English (33%)
Journalism (25%)
Sociology (25%)
Art (8%)

I am thoroughly unimpressed. Not only do I hate sciences but I am really, really bad at them also. This is why I am already an--almost completed--ENGLISH MAJOR, SOCIOLOGY MINOR!!! So really what this thing is telling me is that I have just wasted 5 years of my life and umpteen thousands of dollars in University. Awesome.
I see that the dance and mathematics traded places the second time also. That's nice too. I lost the only remotely accurate artsy thing in there to my scientific nemesis.

No more of these things! I'm all worked up over a dumb quiz. I'm gonna go doctor up a coffee now and get my honework done.

Y'know, if I could do it all again, I'd probably choose Fine Arts (with a focus on drawing and/or metal sculpture), Theatre, or Sociology. I really do think that's where I should be. Sometimes English doesn't provide me with the creative outlet I need but at least there's a possibility I can come out with a job (remote as that may be).

My triumphant return...

2006-02-23T11:25:00.000-08:00

The marking is over. The good news is that the class average went up by 10%; the bad news is that my average is slowly declining because I spend so much time marking 1st year papers.
As it stands, I'm a book and a half behind. Tonight I'm gonna' try to get deeply into Country of My Skull so I can begin my position paper on it and then finish Beloved before Monday for my test on that.

Crikey!

I need another Reading Week to do my reading. Speaking of which, check out the widget on my sidebar: once I get them all catalogued people will be able to browse my complete library of books. As it stands, the ones that sprung to mind are there but I have way too many books to remember. Something fun other than the university tedium I tend to blather on about.

So lazy.

2006-02-17T08:33:00.000-08:00

So Olwen has a bunch of crazy tests on her blog... use the links on the side to get there. Here are my results:

1. If I was a drink, I'd be a Mai Tai--Apparently not a big drinker, but I'll drink if the atmosphere is festive and when I'm drunk, watch out! I'm easily carried away.
2. Kelly Clarkson shares my taste in music!!!!?!?!?!?!???
3. I would be denied U.S. citizenship (3/10).
4. And my Irish name is Lugh Hennessy.

Okay, time to resort to extreme measures.
I am not posting until the marking of the papers is done. Seriously, I need to get my shit together.

Updater...

2006-02-16T09:39:00.000-08:00

Wa-Hoo!!!
I finally figured out--to a small extent--what the hell I'm doing on my sidebar!

In case you didn't notice, I've added some links to friends and book reviews. Keep your eyes posted... I've had so many plans for this for so long that it may take another day or two for me to get to where I want to be. I'm thinking about posting some of my sketches... but I'll need to access a scanner in order to do that and I'd like to find a way to keep them separate... maybe another site? Dunno' how that will come together just yet.

As for now, my reading break is half over. I'm behind on what I need to have done, as always, and at this point I don't think I'll be recovered by the time I return on Monday. But who knows, I could miraculously pull ahead. Today I am going to start marking papers for the Management class I TA for... should have been done by now. I also hope to get through a good chunk of Beloved tonight and get into Country of my Skull before Sunday. And that's my life now, marking and reading... reading and marking.

The Olympics haven't been a priority for me at all but this morning I watched a bunch of the new sport, Pursuit (Both Canadian team's just took silver). I hope to watch some hockey... Olympic and NHL finals are pretty much the only hockey I ever do.

So there it is. Not my most exciting post but sometimes that's how it is. I did get an ego-boosting comment the other day, something about the site being fun to read. It should be here somewhere, I've been messing with the comment moderator lately too so who knows if it even went public. That would be just my luck. He he.

See you soon.

My morning with the CBC.

2006-02-06T14:16:00.000-08:00

Rather than spending the morning reading--as I had originally intended--I got sucked into the CBC's coverage of the Harper Conservative swearing in ceremonies and the reveal of Canada's new Conservative cabinet.

Being a lefty, I find this whole Conservative Canada a scary development. Not that I am in any way a pundit or critic but there were a couple of things that I picked up on this morning.

1. Harper was quick to mention that one of his top priorities will be to cut the GST. Personally, I think this was one of the major aspects of the Conservative platform that allowed them to win a vote (falling a distant second to the public's desire to find a lack of credibility or mismanagement in any aspect of federal politics... almost like a bandwagon hockey team). Although the original promise was only a 2% reduction, we Canadians happily raised our flags and cheered on the Harper tax cut. We'll see just how effective it is... the Conservatives aren't known for their generosity unless it is directed toward privatised business and/or corporations. I anticipate that Canadians will see many aspects of our system affected by a loss of government subsidy to recuperate the millions of dollars "given back" to the populace. For an example of this one need only look at the recent moves to privatise hydro and drastic cuts within the health care system in BC.

2. In a press conference immediately following the defection of David Emerson (ex-Liberal Minister of Industry under Paul Martin, and newly-appointed Conservative minister of International Trade) the tentative leader of the Liberal party, Bill Graham, reponded in English to a question posed in French. Although the journalist took it in stride and politely asked for a response in French, it was evident through Graham's flailings--and flustered French response--that he feared repercussions from his faux-pas. I find this interesting because I just finished a paper on the role of bilingualism in Canada. I can't help but feel as though the acknowledgement of two "official" languages only reinforces a heirarchy of cultural capital within our country and further alienates minorities who speak first- or second-languages other than English or French. That being said, it was obvious that Graham's failure to follow established protocols may have caused him some credibility and opened him up to fire from Francophone communities. I see this as evidence that the recognition of "official" languages provides a form of power or leverage to certain groups. Too bad this didn't happen a month ago; it would have boosted my paper's thesis significantly.

3. As for the whole "crossing the floor" issue, I don't care whether or not a politician switches immediately after an election or not. The fact remains that the loyalty of the "defector" will always remain in question. Both Belinda Stronach (former Conservative turned Liberal) and Ujal Dosanjh (former NDP premier gone Liberal) will always be seen in my eyes as untrustworthy. I do not understand how one can claim to act on behalf of partisan lines one day and switch the next. I question that person's commitment to their beliefs in the first place.

And that's it, I'm out of time. Hope you enjoyed my political rant. For me it served a dual purpose: I got a long-overdue post up and it helped to pass the time in my otherwise uneventful office hours.

My daily sadness.

2006-01-27T21:23:00.000-08:00

Tami and I have a beautiful backyard. This is due to the fact that once summer rolls around, Tami spends every spare second of her waking life puttering and working to beautify that environment. I am very proud of her and grateful for that.

The other day, I slept in until 9:30am--a rare occurence lately but well deserved after staying up until 5am two nights in a row marking students papers--and awoke to some strange construction noises coming from the property behind us. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to investigate as I was behind schedule and had to dash off to school.

Upon my return, I discovered that the noises which I had heard earlier were those of trees being cut down and chipped up. Our neighbor to the rear is the Kelowna Christian Centre. They have long been planning and developing a major expansion that will someday replace our view of Tuve mountain with a massive auditorium--in my dreams/nightmares it comes complete with gospel music emanating from every window and dancers wearing white robes. For now, however, there is no auditorium.

What we do have is a portable trailer. The fact that the trailer is there doesn't bother us as much as what the church plans on using it for. Their plan is to run a soup kitchen or hot lunch for people in need out of it. This, has caused Tami and I some grief. I am not opposed to providing services for those in need--quite the opposite, actually, I am dedicated to fighting injustices in our world--however, this is a residential area. Tami and I have already endured the theft of many of our personal belongings because the exact place where the portable stands provides an easy access into our backyard. On a separate occasion, I was forced to defend our property and chase a thief out of our garage who I have no doubt gained access from the same spot. Teenagers frequently smoke drugs between the trailer and our fence. We often have garbage randomly thrown over into our yard.

My anger stems from a lack of consideration by the so-called Christian centre. I have spoken to their representatives on more than one occasion and was met with smiles to my face and empty promises. We have not once received advance notice of construction or operational plans from our "neighbour." They never bothered to ask how we felt about having a homeless kitchen directly behind our yard. A month ago, we were woken at 2am by construction noises from the structure as its owner/caretaker decided that was the best time to repair damages incurred by mischevious teens. I have spoken to the City Inspector, who informed me that the structure in question was indeed installed illegally, had no permit, and would be removed forcibly in less than 10 days. That was almost six months ago.

The trees that were cut down provided shelter from the massive light that now shines in our window at night. They have also for the past few years provided a home for a family of quail who are due to make their appearance in the spring. I have a sneaking suspicion that the trees were removed to make room for another structure. If that happens, I will be forced to take this to the next level. Civil disobedience? Nah, not quite that far but a petition seems reasonable.

For us, this is just another step toward an inevitable and unwanted change. Maybe not soon, but eventually the visual harmony that is provided by our backyard will no longer be quite so pleasant.

That thought saddens me and I think about it every day.

X

2006-01-23T07:54:00.000-08:00

Today is election day!

Tami and I dragged our sorry asses out of bed at 7am this morning and rolled on down to the Rutland Centennial Hall where we made our marks. Then we drove-through Tim Horton's for a couple of bagels and coffees.

A true Canadian morning.

"Ozymandias"

2006-01-18T11:20:00.000-08:00

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said--'Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert ... Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on those lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away'.

--Percy Bysshe Shelley (1818)

Voorhees, Kruger, et al.

2006-01-13T11:53:00.000-08:00

Today is Friday the 13th, January 2006. When I was a kid, the first horror movie I remember watching was Friday the 13th, part 2. Man did that shit freak me out--plus, the gratuitous nudity was a bonus at six or seven years old. Last Halloween, I had the fortune of watching all 10 of these movies in order courtesy of the Scream network. It was such a good time, despite the cheezy acting and cheap thrills. Did you know that Kevin Bacon and Corey Feldman were in these movies? Oh yeah... classics, for sure.

I guess that the reason for my inclusion of all of this in my post is because I've finally started to get a grip on this semester (only three weeks late) and one of my courses is 20th Century Gothic. In most of the classes so far, we've been pounding off significant journal articles to get a handle on the theory behind the course(s) and this weekend is the first chance I've had to sit down with a good book. That first book: The Lair of the White Worm by Bram Stoker. Although it's only 120 pages long, it's dense and stilted--like most turn of the century writing--but has such a great sense of story development. So I just really started getting into that today and in the spirit of the gothic, I hope to watch a couple of movies that will freak me out also. Over lunch, I'm going to watch The Exorcism of Emily Rose (a course requirement) and later tonight, Tami and I plan on seeing King Kong, remake of another classic engendering Enlightened notions such as Man vs. Beast, the fear of the unknown and all that jazz.

So that's about it... not much new to report. Last Saturday, Tami and I went up to Big White for the first time since my accident in December. It was a great day, 14cm of fresh snow--Tami's first time in real powder--and we had a blast! Big thanx to Barb and Garth for loaning us their condo, that was pretty cool of them. On Sunday, I went back up with some of the Venture group and had a tonne of fun in another 12cm of new snow. All in all it was a good weekend and even though I was forced to take it easy--no jumping yet--it was well worth it. Next Friday, Tami and I are going up with Tanya and Ian for their first times so that should be fun. Big White has officially re-started their Friday nights for $5 policy (rentals are an extra $10) so it's perfect for newbies and anyone without a season's pass. Hope to see you there!

Okay, I'm out. Have to get some food in my belly (maybe a baby...) and sit down with that horror flick that I've heard so many good things about. Chowder.

Mood: Eerily festive

Guilt.

2006-01-06T09:09:00.000-08:00

As this was my first week back to class this post will primarilly be concerned with issues surrounding that.

If you don't already know, I'm a 4th-year University student at UBC-Okanagan (actually, it's taken me 5 years of attendance to gain 4th-year standing, but that's a whole other ball of fish). My major is in English Literature (at one time I was focusing on Canadiana but my direction is now less determined than it used to be) and I have also qualified for a minor in Sociology. Being 30 years old, I have also spent a significant portion of my adult life in the labour force: I'm a ticketed electrician and have spent a lot of time on large commercial and heavy industrial projects so, as they say in Northern Alberta, this ain't my first rodeo.

Last semester, I took a class on Canadian film--wrongly thinking that it would be a fluff course and GPA booster. It turned out to be heavilly oriented on theory: identity politics and colonialism were the two big ones. Anyway, one night (it was a night class, ugh) we got into a discussion about "difference" and multiculturalism. An older lady was talking and--unfotunately, I don't remember her exact comment, it was some token egalitarian view --she said something inflamatory about race. Now, I'm not a wallflower, I'm an argumentative lefty, and I tend to champion those whose voices sometimes go unheard so... seeing an opportunity, I pounced. A heated discussion ensued about equality and recognising people for who they are and I left it at that.

Flash-forward to this year, on Wednesday (another night class, ugh), I attended my first International Lit class: South-Africa and Anti-Apartheid Lit... I'm stoked on it. Anyhow, we started talkng about the history of oppression in South Africa and got on about how we were going to work the in-class atmosphere. The exact conversation was about seeing the class as a community and how we could encourage communication and active listening. That was when the lady from last semester spoke up. Her comment was that when people are listening to others, it is important to acknowledge that the message is not always a reflection of the person's opinion and that when someone feels the need to challenge another person, they should do so in a civil manner: either questioning or asking them to further qualify their statement. Her comment was obviously personal and I got the distinct impression that she was referring to my previous attack on multiculturism.

So I've been feeling like shit for a couple of days because I obviously hurt this lady's feelings. Normally, I would just say "Tough shit," or "Suck it up, princess" because I have no tolerance for intolerance. However, given the spirit of the class and the understanding of humanity that is required to deal with subject matter of violent oppression, my view changed. Consequently, I also felt--and continue to feel--guilty.

As if that wasn't enough, another incident came up yesterday. This time it was in my class on 20th Century Gothic Literature (another one that I am stoked on). We were talking about how we perceive "the gothic" and how attiudes toward fear, horror, terror are constantly changing. So this young guy speaks up, and confidently begins to talk about traditional examples of gothic literature and their characteristics. Good for you, smarty... go to a party. Noticing that he is on a roll, he goes for a laugh (at least, this is the only reason I can figure) and says: "Just because some nancy dresses in black and walks down the street doesn't make him gothic."

Nancy.

I've gotta' say, I was shocked but for some reason I didn't say anything. Whether that was because I was sitting at the front of the class and was facing 50 smiling faces or because my attitude about classroom confrontation has been changed, I can't say. I was extremely tired after spending two sleepless nights finishing a paper for my Sociology class so that might also have something to do with it because normally, over something like this, I would have come out guns blazing. So now, I feel guilt again... guilt for not standing up for what I believe in.

So far, my consolidation has been that this is a 3rd-year class and as I don't recognise the guy (remember, I've been at this school for 5 years and am considered as ancient as God's bones) I'll assume that he has just finished the three classes in English it takes to get into an upper-level course. Not that inexperience gives anyone an excuse to encourage homophobia--isn't ignorance located at the root of homophobia?--but if that's the case, then I can see how he may have not realised the implications of his comment. My shock was weird though... a deer in the headlights.

I guess that I'm just not used to this sort of thing coming up... most of the 4th-year classes I take are very good about promoting tolerance and breaking down barriers of hate. I think the last time I heard something like that in a classroom--other than last semester's multiculturalism rant--was three years ago when someone started going off about "the black races." That was a fireworks show, lemme' tell ya'.

Either way, I figure that the whole experience for me has been about discovering when to fight and when not to. Maybe changing the way that I approach a situation. So there it is; my weekly drama. It turned out to be a long one, thanks for sticking it out.

Green Tea for You and Me...

2006-01-04T00:31:00.000-08:00

So, it's half past midnight and I'm about to start my marathon of writing on this paper for Paty's class (Socialization and Education). My topic is "Bilingualism and Language Policy in the Canadian Education System" but it will probably focus more on the broader aspects of bilingualism than the education system itself. This could be an issue as the class is about education but it's time to stop reading and get writing so whatever I have will have to do.

I'm planning on staying up most of the night. I'm drinking green tea for my caffeine buzz because too much coffee gives me the shits but now that it's late and my mind has begun its meandering process, I started wondering whether or not the tea will also have any adverse effects. For munchies, I'm tying into a bag of microwave popcorn (mmm... fake butter flavouring...) and there's a box of brandy-filled chocolates left over from Christmas in the kitchen just waiting for me to lose my willpower.

Speaking of which, I should get back to the paper... I really am sick of writing essays. The prospect of taking a year off to work and travel is looking better and better by the day.

Mood: unsure.

"I've got blisters on my fingers!"

2006-01-03T09:07:00.000-08:00

2006 came fast. It may sound cliche, but my holidays were a blur--how 'bout yours? It seems that the older I get, the faster life goes. I need to make a greater effort to mellow out. Maybe I'll make that a resolution... here are the contenders so far:

-the aforementioned attempt to get mellower.
-work out regularly... not like beefcake or anything but just do some regular exercise. Maybe even watch what I eat.
-try to stay ahead of the game with school. :) This is funny because I say this every semester: not just every year! Speaking of which, I need to finish/start this paper due for Paty on Thurs... this resolution already has disaster all over it.
-keep up on the news. The February election should help to make this easier, plus I plan on scheduling in some time before each shift at the library to read the paper. That's only 2 days a week but the Internet can help w/ the other days. The big question is: which paper? I already read the Phoenix, local UBC-O rag, but I'm thinking... Globe & Mail. Why? Dunno. I should get some lefty content so for that I'll probably do the Tyee (Victoria) which will also give some BC local as well. As for TV, I never do it. CBC Radio One is a personal fave and I'll try to plug into that more often, although my truck was the place for that and now that I'm a bus rider (another Beatles quote) I need to convince Tami that it's a better choice than the crap on local pop-music station, Sun FM.

That should be lots... we'll see how it goes.

As for the blister thing, besides being one of my favourite zany Beatles quotes, I am experiencing the physical realities of life as a student. My family had a night of Lazer Tag (which was actually a tonne o' fun) and believe it or not, I got a blister on my right index finger from pulling the trigger so much! Okay, if that's not a sign that I need to go back to work, I don't know what is. Then, on NY's Eve, I pulled a Boy Blunder and closed the metal door to our firepit with my left hand (involuntary reaction, maybe the rum had some influence here). The result was three lightly seared fingertips--and a night of soaking them in ice water. The blisters on them have gone down a lot and the Lazer Tag one is healing fine also.

Conclusion: This has been an injury-prone holiday for me. What with the whole spleen thing and then these dumb moves, I'm pretty sure I qualify for some lame-o award. Speaking of the spleen, it feels fine. The muscles under the ribcage are still rough though--tried some situps last night and the night before and they hurt like a mofo in the am. But that's part of the healing process though, right? I plan on being up on the hill this weekend: Tami's boss gave her their condo for a couple of nights so we hope to get some use out of it.

And that's it...

In the words of my favourite cage fighter, Kip: Peace Out.

Waste of time

2005-12-29T12:22:00.000-08:00

Man, does life suck when nothing goes right.

I just spent two hours of my life running around and getting sweet F.A. accomplished. After walking to the bus stop and waiting there for the bus to show up (20 minutes late), I got up to the campus only to discover that nothing was open. Dropped my books into the after-hours slot and then I coloured a picture of Jack Layton on the cover of the Phoenix while waiting for the next bus. Walked home and bingo-bango!... two hours gone.

I did, however, get to reminisce about my youth on the walk home as I smashed all the ice puddles along the side of our street. Whoopee--I'm sure that was well worth the trip and at least my new-oven-induced headache is gone.

I need a hot bowl of soup and a nap. Then maybe try to write the 500 word interest statement that will be going on my Grad School applications.

Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

Why I get fat at Christmas

2005-12-29T09:08:00.000-08:00

This is the madness that I love to stuff my face with. It only comes around once a year and when it does, I go off. There is nothing good in these things--other than the taste. Tami made a batch two weeks ago and now they are all gone. I am so sad I just wanna' cry. This picture was taken in our kitchen and now there is a toaster oven there. Kimmy bought us the oven for Xmas and we plugged it in for the first time this morning. Now the house smells like burning plastic and I want to vomit. I also have a headache and feel a little crazy. This is the reason why my writing is so stinted... I'm semi-stoned off the toaster oven fumes. It may also have something to do with me getting up early to go to work in the library. I realised about an hour ago that the library is closed for the holiday season so no work for me. I'll probably still go up there because I need to: buy some books, drop some books off, buy a bus pass, and grill the reception staff about the UBC bursary that they told me I couldn't get but I hear now that I could have. I am procrastinating this because I don't want to ride the bus... it's cold out but the fresh air will probably help my headache. Ok, I'm gonna' do that. Anyhoo... enjoy the picture, don't they look yummy?

Mood: wacky

welcome back, Mr Kotter.

2005-12-28T11:04:00.000-08:00

Today is Wednesday. Also known as hump day, garbage day, day-before-todd-goes-back-to-work day, and time-to-get-your-ass-off-the-couch-and-get-something-done day.

I haven't posted since before Christmas so this is way overdue. I really don't want to rehash the whole scenario--and you probably don't want to have to read about it either--so I'll put the basics down in point form.

1. Despite the mutual intent to keep the holidays sane, Christmas with my family was nutty.

2. My sister Tanya also has a spleen injury... she's getting tests done today to determine the source and what-not but she is definitely worse off than I was (recovering fine, thank-you). We went shopping on Christmas Eve and adopted the moniker, Team Spleen. Upon sighting my mom and other sister, Toni, smoking like chimneys in the mall parking lot we thought it befitting to also bestow a name upon them: Team Emphysema. Random commando acts throughout the mall and surrounding area made the Christmas Eve Mall Insanity somewhat bearable.

3. I've been up late every night for days but it has been allright because Tami has discovered the joy of sleeping in on holidays--praise that.

4. School starts again sometime next week... I have a 10 page Research Essay due on the 5th so I should get cracking on that. Also, Grad School Applications are due mid-January and I really need to get my shit together there. I kind of pooched myself with those--never got the reference forms to the two profs that said they would vouch for me... now they are going to feel rushed if I hand them over next week and say "hey, these need to be filled out and sent to these universities in 10 days, ok?". Guess I'll just bite the bullet and try to get my shit together now... maybe I'll Purolater the references and that way they'll arrive on time. In other news, I'm 400 pages into Wolves of the Calla (5th installment in Stephen King's Dark Tower series) and only have 300 more to go. Of course, I could be doing some advance reading for my classes this semester but I really needed a rest from academia--even though this series is pretty intense, the pressure to remember detail and make theoretical connections just isn't there... SK is good like that.

5. My garage alarm went off three times last night around 2am. No signs of break-in but I have a theory or two: either a mouse set the motion sensor off or some moisture got into the relay and fucked things up. This is yet another reason why I feel we should insulate and board the garage but I know that Tami will totally kaibosh that if I bring it up so I'm not even gonna' bother.

6. The title of his entry is in honour of the '70s. I watched the Virgin Suicides last night (read the book in my American Lit class last semester) and got Heart's "Magic Man" stuck in my head. When I get a song stuck in my brain, I usually crank it on the ole' Hi-Fi and it goes away. Not owning any Heart, however, has made this difficult. In search of my fix, coupled with the fact that I am sick to death of holiday music, I put the Satellite radio on "Flashback '70s" and we've been givin' 'er all morning. Currently, Joe Cocker's "Feelin' Alright" is playing in the background: still no Heart but I'll keep you posted.

7. New Year's Eve party here. If you're around then get in touch. If not, have a great time.

So there it is. Another post down. I'll try to keep it up... I've never had a problem with that before but I am 30 now, he he.
Sorry, had to say it. Seriously, thanks for reading and hopefully before the New Year I'll have some links and other interesting stuff in the margins so you get more than just my inane rambling when you come for a visit. Maybe cookies and cake.

Now it's "The Weight" by The Band: I met The Band once in a Denny's at 3am but that's a whole other post.

Take a load off, Fanny...

Whirlwind of disaster.

2005-12-21T08:43:00.000-08:00

Okay then, this weekend was officially the worst weekend ever.

To start with, Tami got rear-ended in the new truck on Friday. Nothing serious, but she was a mess of emotional responses--first she was shaken up, then worried it was her fault, then angry at the whole thing and now that everything is done with ICBC and the autobody shop... she's okay. It really was minor, the Hidden Hitch took the brunt of it and there is a tiny dent and scuff on the bumper... the Echo that hit her, however, is toast.

Saturday was okay... finished my last essay for school (Canadian Film--got an 80 on it). Figured I could finally let loose so we went to the annual Xmas party at Shilo and Ryan's--I've been unable to make it over there for ages because of school so it was good to see them again. Stayed late and drank a bit too much rum (considering I had to be up to go boarding for work at 6am!) but I made it to work all right and we were off on time so it was all good.

Good until about 11:30, when I bailed on a patch of ice and sailed backwards off of a ten foot drop.

I landed, fully extended, on the left side of my stomach and skidded to the bottom of the slope where I huddled in pain, screaming for help. By the time ski patrol had arrived, I had my board, backpack and helmet off but I was still pretty messed up. They strapped me down to a toboggan and got me down to the hut where I was looked at by the staff. Diagnosis: possible ruptured spleen.

10mg of morphine and an ambulance ride later, I was in the ER. Tami met me there (thankfully, I managed to get a ride home for the kids who I was supervising sorted out before they doped me up) and I had some bloodwork, x-rays, and a CT scan. By 8pm, we were told that I had torn the muscles under my ribcage and had only bruised my spleen. Which, considering the posssibilities, was pretty cool.

I slept the whole next day (Monday). When Tami came home at 4:30, we checked the phone messages and there was a msg from the Doctor: apparently, the specialist took another look at my CT scan sometime in the middle of the night and thought he saw a smudge (which could be internal bleeding) so I was to call them as soon as possible. We set up an appointment for Tuesday at 5.

That was yesterday. We ran around all day, Tami got her truck repairs dealt with and I got my tests done. Turns out that I'm okay... just bruising and muscles like they originally diagnosed but man, it was tense for a bit. I'm walking again (slowly) but can't lift anything heavy or stretch too far--if I keep healing at this rate, I should be 100% and back on the hill in a few weeks.

My Grama came in yesterday, my parents are coming in from Peru today, we're cooking dinner for everyone tonight, and Tami has a list as long as my arm to do so I should get moving. Just figured I'd drop the news to whoever reads this thing.

Hope that everyone is having a safe and enjoyable holiday. Take care out there... it's a wild ride this time of year.

4:04 am

2005-12-16T04:03:00.000-08:00

Late night thoughts abound,
My brain churns and my eyes burn
holes into sockets
into nothingness.
Kickstart that engine and rev it as hard as it'll go!
You're only a third of the way there and time
is running out
faster than you
are
running out of gas.

Fuck.

2005-12-14T12:09:00.000-08:00

I just got my essay back from Paul. I understand that it was late and I shouldn't have expected much but I really did think that it was an okay argument--apparently not. I really should have done another edit. Some stupid grammatical mistakes coupled with the fact that it was way past the deadline probably contributed to Paul's displeasure. A 73 on that puts me around 77 for his class: not the best way to get into grad school. This sucks. On a lighter note, Daybreak read my letter on the radio this morning. Tami was proud... wait until she hears about my crappy grade. Man, that really put a damper on my desire to finish this last essay. Ugh... I just need to slog through and have some down time from school.

Mood: black

a priviledged view...

2005-12-13T08:30:00.000-08:00

Up until this year, I worked for UBC-O's student newspaper, the Phoenix, holding various editorial positions including Editor-in-Chief. One of the hot-button issues for the past year or two has been the increasing homeless population in Kelowna. This morning, the city council announced that they have decided to rethink their zoning of a shelter located in the downtown core in response to an outcry from local residents and the downtown business owners. As I was listening to this report on the CBC over my morning coffee, I felt compelled to give my two cents but quickly realised that my old outlet for venting on the issues is no longer at my fingertips. Instead, I sent an e-mail to Daybreak, the CBC program that was reporting (daybreakkelowna@cbc.ca), and I encourage you to do the same. Council is calling for public input on this issue in order to make an informed decision. Get your opinion out there; their inability to stand tall on an issue they once supported has now become our responsibility.
A copy of my e-mail follows:

I can't help but wonder if the reaction from downtown businesses and residents isn't more out of fear than genuine concern for the people who are living on the streets.

As transient people are already established in Kelowna's core, attempting to find another area where they would be "more suited" is not only selfish, but lacking in humanity as well. It is simply an effort to, once again, shunt these people away from the visible public because they are deemed undesirable and bad for business.

The homeless will not leave the downtown core. When one's perspective shifts to recognise that survival is the basic need, it soon becomes clear that living among a high-traffic, populated area is the best solution. We, of the priviledged majority, waste more than the homeless consume. Moving them to a less populated area would not keep the homeless away from our city centre--it would merely force them to commute.

What we need is a stronger resource base for these people to rely on. Making it easier to survive by providing rehabilitation programs and shelters near centralised economic bases is just good sense.

We need the infrastructure to do this... and while we're at it, a healthy dose of compassion to go along with it wouldn't hurt either.

Woot woot.

2005-12-12T22:53:00.000-08:00

Okay, after a long stint in the world of academia, I have made my triumphant return--if only for a brief moment.

Sometime last week, I promised myself that I would no longer make entries to this blog until I completed the essay due for my American Fiction class. A week later and holy shit, I'm done. This thing was supposed to be finished two weeks ago and Paul Milton, one of the best profs (and hardest markers) I have had the fortune of working with, gave me a couple of much needed extentions.

This seems to be a recurring theme in my academic career--underestimating the amount of time it takes me to put together something that I am comfortable submitting for analysis. I always thought that the writing would get easier with time.

Obviously, I was once again, misled.

What the hell takes so long you ask? Is it an increased pressure to do well and get accepted to Grad School? Is it a higher standard of personal achievement? Is it burnout? Or is it just sheer procrastination?

Who knows. One thing is certain, though: this one is over and only one more to go before I can stop worrying about MLA formatting techniques or i's before e's and start relaxing again.

Give me strength...

Meta-truckin'...

2005-12-06T19:06:00.000-08:00

So we did it... Tami has been wanting one for ages now and today we picked up her new Jimmy. It's pretty hilarious because this one is almost exactly the same as my little Sonoma. Same year, same colour (almost), but she gets way more options (auto, sunroof, a/c, power windows, locks, 4x4, tow package, etc...). I plan on making good use of that roof rack up at Big White this year...

What is even funnier is that my truck is actually the second green Sonoma that I have had (poor Tex was written off in Fort McMurray a few years back). All three have been from 1997--must have been a good year for us.

So there you have it, we're die hard GM fans, can ya' tell?

PS: like the little red balls on our Gingko tree? We're holiday suckers, for sure.

feelings of inadequacy abound...

2005-12-03T22:36:00.000-08:00

Having just finished sending out a shitload of emails officially announcing my arrival as a cyber-journalist (doesn't that sound so much nicer than 'blogger'?) I was struck by an epiphany.

My blog could suck.

Let's look at this in a pro/con sort of analysis. I don't know HTML or any of those other fancy formatting technical know-hows that would make a sense of style on this thing feasible--CON. Case in point: the Flick'r badge attachment fiasco (thus, no badge yet). Then there's the fun factor... outside of school I have no life--I'm sure Tami will support me here (she's been supporting me for years)--CON. I've been told that my prose is bearable and even engaging which is a PRO, however, I'm definitely lazy and unreliable at times which tends to lead to a lot of abbreviated language such as "nite," "lite," "thanx," and so on... not to mention that ole' constuction worker mouth of mine--CONS all around.

It's not looking good folks, this endeavour could be doomed. Then again, Charleton Heston never would have saved the world from those "damned, dirty apes" if he had just fallen to his knees in the sand and given up would he...

okay, this is getting downright dumb.

I guess I'll just have to let it go and see where the web takes me. Hopefully I get the finicky technical crap out of the way early and the lack of pics and links doesn't dissuade too many people at first.

Hey, I think my depression over this is over. That was short-lived...

Any comments on how to make this thing better would be appreciated.

Thanx (and a big "thank-you" to the grammar sticklers in the bunch).

You think you know someone...

2005-12-02T22:18:00.000-08:00

So last week, Tami and I are driving by a funeral home here in K-town and she says: "I think I'd like to work in a funeral parlour. I'd be good at it." And I'm like, "What? Gross. That's weird but I love you." The conversation pretty much went nowhere from there... I think we started talking about Christmas or something and the mortician-talk was pretty much over.

Flash forward to the other day--I had to screen a movie for my Canadian Film class so I decided to watch it on my laptop in the school library. The movie was Kissed (Stopkewich, 1996) and it's all about this girl who gets off on dead things as a child and then decides to start working in a funeral home to be closer to the bodies. Then she takes it to the next level and starts having sex with them... it gets pretty detailed and if you aren't ranked out by that sort of thing, I suggest watching it. It was a pretty decent movie, especially in the context of some of the crappy cinema that Canadians have been responsible for in the past.

The larger issue is that now I can't stop thinking about how weird and random that whole thing was. I mean really, the odds of those two incidents occuring within days of each other were pretty crazy.

So that's it.

My wife is a necrophiliac.

Awesome.

A lost morning...

2005-11-27T11:08:00.000-08:00

Ahh, procrastination.

The late night sleep pattern continues: not because I was up late studying or writing like I should have been but because I decided to watch the Missing with Tam until 2am. Man, I love Tommy Lee Jones--of course, the ridiculousness that we were witness to in Batman Forever is the exception to that.

It's already Sunday and it's after 11 but what have I got to show for it? I'm basically vibriting from the fresh-ground coffee that I made an express run for so we have coffee now but still no essay on the Canterbury Tales. Kim came over and brought some muffins so the combination of the coffee and bran should provide me with another decent chunk of time where I do a whole lot of Sweet F.A.

I tried to attach a Flickr badge yesterday but got fed up when it continually screwed up the posting layout. Of course, I don't have many photos up on Flickr yet anyway but it would be nice to add some thumbnails of the books, movies, and music that are consuming the little free time that I am afforded.

This is the last week of class for me, officially I'm not through until the 7th but the last class I need to attend is on the 1st. the early-out is nice but the exhange of final exams for final week essays is not so nice. I have 2 to write before the end of the week and have another due next Wed. I also have a final on Thursday am and another the following Wed so I'm freaking out just a little. I really should be fine as long as I can get my ass in gear and stop messing around with this damned blog.

Whoa! There's that bran muffin... gotta' go.

Hey, isn't it Grey Cup today? Fuck, that could be trouble.

Image post...

2005-11-26T02:18:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I can see how this will get addicting. Figured I'd better clarify for those of you living in a bubble just exactly what Japanimation is. Hook-Ups is a skate label and are infamous for the highly sexualised images of women that they portray. Of course, I'm sure there are other reasons for the scantilly clad women... it's not just a marketing thing. The real reason that I am including this image that Rose will probably chastise me forever about is to see how the image layout works in a post--never done this sort of thing before. Aren't you lucky little guinea pigs? Yes you are! Yes you are! Awww....

Right. I'm gonna' try and get some sleep now.

Caught in the tailwind that is blogging...

2005-11-26T01:17:00.000-08:00

It is because I have so much free time these days and felt that running on little or no sleep would be the best approach to life as a whole, that I have arrived here in the land of the bloggers. Blogging: a physically undefinable realm where naked people pretend they are clothed and the bagels cost less despite the high price of poppyseed.

Sleep would be fantastic at this point--and not just sleep but a real sleep like the stuff I always see on the tube where the people get up all cheery and kissy-face with their dogs while their neighbours water the lawn eternally and paper boys never miss. That's the sort of sleep that I want. I was in bed... it lasted all of ten minutes. As I laid beside Tami I could feel the ice of her skin burning into mine and my mind wouldn't stop racing; not about anything in particular but just running full-steam without any particular direction or will. The way it was moving was exactly how my body moved this morning as I was forced to sprint two blocks in order to catch my bus. Funny, the body moved without thought and the mind moved while lying still...

The furnace just kicked off but I can guarantee that our room is still freezing. I don't understand the heat in our house yet: its been two years and I still can't grasp what the hell is going on there. Last night we were sweating and tonight we freeze. It's like some game being played by a child from the next dimension except their magnifying glass controls my furnace and all I can do is run from the rays that he/she controls.

So this is it... this is what you can expect from my blog. But really, what else would you expect? It's for me, not you anyway.
Maybe tomorrow I'll add some pictures... or write that damned essay.