About Time

Things just might be coming up Nugget. It's been a great weekend.

I had planned to get up early this morning and go for a 23 kilometre run with the people from the Running Room. I had a relatively quiet Saturday night, but did manage to stay out fairly late. It was about 1:30 by the time I stripped down to my underwear and went to bed.

I lay there looking at the clock and thinking about life, the universe, and everything. I calculated how long I would sleep if I fell asleep right at that moment, and then tried to force it to happen. Of course it didn't work, and the calculating continued. Perpetual motion.

Eventually I fell asleep, and actually fell hard, because when the phone rang at 2:45, I had no idea where I was. I was scared, briefly, because a phone call in the middle of the night can rarely be a good thing.

I was relieved to find out who it was, and to discover that it wasn't anything terrible. A good friend was on the way home from an unenjoyable evening and wanted to moan about it a little. I didn't mind at all, and we chatted for a while. By the time I fell back asleep it was around 3:30.

My alarm went off at 8:00. I clicked it off quickly and decided that the plan to run was out the window. 11:30 here I come!

At 9:59, I heard footsteps above me and I remembered that the real estate agent was showing the house. I jumped out of bed and stumbled around in groggy, panick-sticken circles just like they do in the cartoons as I tried to think about what I was going to do. I thought about going out for breakfast, I didn't want to eat alone. I thought about driving to the grocery store, but I no longer have a car.

I decided that the best plan would be to go for a run. I got changed into my gear and I ran 17.5 kilometres. I got back home at 11:30, checked my email and then headed off to work. You will all be very pleased to know that I have abandoned the double knee braces. I stopped wearing them about a week ago, and feel much better without them.

Work was work. We are captioning the Hockey: A People's History series, and it looks quite good. I really like captioning documentaries, because they are fairly straightforward, and I actually learn something.

When I got home, I barbequed some meat, and some friends came over for some vids. We went out for a drink, and now I am typing this. Since I didn't sleep much last night so I'm heading to bed shortly. I've had a lot of fun this weekend partly because nothing has happened according to plan, but in the end everything has worked out right. Funny how that happens.

Sometimes I Think That I'm Bigger Than the Sound

I've got to thank pageblank for setting me up with Cheated Hearts by the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs (which I have noted has been removed... for shame!), and Jess and EMG for changing my life with Band of Horses' The Funeral. I've been listening to these songs non-stop since they were posted.

In a beer-fueled creative spirit, I thought that a good video for Cheated Hearts would be to have someone running with an iPod, listening to the song and mouthing the lyrics while totally rocking out to the tune. They could stop, at some point, and bounce around and totally kick it. At the part where they say "taking it off" the person could be extra creative. I think that it would be really interesting since we all see people listening to music and rocking out as they go.

Today, for instance, I was laughing like a maniac at the XFM broadcasts and people stopped and looked at me because they thought either I was laughing at them or they wanted to know who the cool guy was and what was so funny. There can't possibly be any other options for why they stopped.

Well, if you haven't noticed already, this is another D&P. I tried to resist, but I was lying in bed and kept thinking about possible post topics and how disappointed my fans would be if I turned down this golden opportunity.

I went out tonight to Rancho Relaxo. It was some sort of party night that I didn't really understand, but the people I was with were a ton of fun and I had a really had a good time. At this point of my life, I'm pretty much game for everything, so when given the choice between Internet surfing and writing melancholic blog entries and trying something new, the decision really doesn't take that long. Sorry all, but I think that the fun posts are better even though I also believe that the self-deprecating and self-loathing posts are funny and appealing in a stand-up comedy way. Personally, I prefer the fun ones.

So I'm working tomorrow and Sunday, but I don't really care. I'm saving up for a weekend away, and since I had a blast tonight, I can coast through until Friday, no problem.

Catch Up

I didn't get a chance to blog about my sister's Cancer, but I should give an update.

A few weeks after my sister had her radiation and spent 10 days at my house, she had an appointment with her oncologist to have her final tests. The results came back and she is Cancer-free! She is now getting her medications sorted out and with more energy will exercise and start taking off some of her baby and thryoid-less weight. She's in good spirirts and we are very relieved.

I didn't do very well on my World Cup predictions. I suffered through Portugal's victories, in Little Portugal, but fortunately was out of town for the Italy win. I was supremely disappointed with England's showing, but this send up of Peter Crouch by the genius that is Stephen Merchant is gold.

The Bridges I've Destroyed...

I'm still fuming. Today was a textbook example of a day that would have been more productive if had I stayed in bed.

Thunderstorms woke me up shortly before dawn. There was lots of lightning and a ton of rain. I rolled over and knew that all the cut hay was now completely ruined. The nutritional value deteriorates when dried hay gets rained on and the cows don't like the way it tastes. The way I see it is that if it's minus 30 and the cows are hungry, they're going to have to eat the hay whether their delicate tastebuds care for it or not.

These cows are the bane of my existence. They have made my life miserable since I was a little boy. Right now, nothing would please me more than getting even by eating 30 cows. I would eat every part of them (brain, liver, tongue, etc, etc.) just so that I could take every calorie, mineral, and vitamin from them and then turn them into energy that I would use to jump around and dance for joy. There's no better revenge than eating the cause of your suffering.

All this work is a neverending list of more work. Like a Russian doll of tasks, any job requires 5 jobs to be done in order to finish the intial chore.

I decided that I would go home today because there was no point in trying to salvaged the soaked hay. I thought that I would be productive and bring the bales that I had made yesterday up from the bottom half of the farm. I wouldn't stack them because they should dry a little, but I could save my Dad a few hours of work.

The bales were heavy. Usually the tractor bucket can pick up two at a time, but these could only be moved one by one. This is a good indication that they were baled too wet and would not be much good. That ticked me off.

I filled the wagon with 14 bales and then started back up to the house. As I crossed one of the bridges on our farm, the back axle of the wagon fell through and as I dragged the wagon across it wiped the rails of the bridge until it was completely destroyed.

I didn't really know what to do, but I knew that I had to solve this problem before leaving. I unhooked the tractor and started to take the 14 bales off the wagon. I made a real mess of them because I couldn't get at them properly because the wagon was on top of (and in) a bridge and I couldn't drive the tractor through a 4 foot deep river.

I was able to empty the wagon of all but two bales and then I used the tractor bucket to lift the back end of the wagon up and out of the bridge. I was out of danger and out of trouble, but the bridge now needed to be repaired. I removed the broken boards and salvaged the ones that I could. I got more boards from the house and a load of gravel. I fixed the bridge, but I was not going to do any more. The back tire was buggered and was so flat that it almost came off the rim. I debated about going into town and getting it repaired, but I was furious at the situation and since nothing had gone right all weekend, I thought that it was better to quit than to keep working. The way things were going, I'm surprised I didn't get killed.

I drove back to Toronto. I was in such a sour mood that I decided that that was the best time to go shopping. I went to The Bay to get socks and underwear. Today became the day of my annual sock purge. I bought the usual 12 whites, and 12 blacks. I also picked up 7 pairs of underwear, and 6 undershirts. I'm in the process of doing laundry so that they are all nice and soft for the coming week.

I'm still very angry at everything. I need a good night's sleep in my own bed.

The Best Laid Plans

What a day. This life stinks.

I’m still at my Dad’s house. I’ve talked to four people in the past three days (cashier at the Tim Horton’s, cashier at the grocery store, cashier at the Canadian Tire, and the owner of the farm equipment shop). In total, probably about 4 minutes.

I woke up this morning to bright sunshine. The sky was blue with a few fluffy clouds. That means haying. I was in the field by 9:30 and raked two fields. Though they were still a bit wet, I figured that they could benefit from raking and would dry a little faster. I was finished raking by 12:30. The other three fields were still too wet, so I left them.

I decided that I would go for my run. I didn’t run yesterday and I was a little disappointed in myself because of it. I decided to run into town and back. It turned out to be 17.3 km. It was the hot part of the day and I was a little uncomfortable. Sweat kept dripping into my eyes so I decided to take my shirt off so that I could mop my forehead every now and then. The run was good, but tiring. Some maniac was passing a car and I just about got run over. Also, as I was running, I came across a turtle who was right in the middle of the road. I picked her up and moved her across the road. That made me feel good.

Anyway, I got a little bit of a sunburn on my chest and shoulders. It was really the first sun exposure that my under shirt area has had in many, many years (perhaps a decade). It took a lot out of me, and so after I ate lunch I decided to lie down for a few minutes.

The weather people were predicting a 60% chance of thunderstorms this afternoon, and I had two fields of raked hay that needed baling in the late afternoon. I knew that they wouldn’t be ready to go until after 4:00 (or even later), but I needed to get them finished before 6:00. The plan was to finish them and then head back home. My rental car was due back at 10:00 pm tonight. It’s a 3-4 hour drive and so I couldn’t afford to dawdle.

So at 3:30, I headed with the baler to make some hay. I was cooking along nicely and
finished the first field quickly. The hay was still a bit wet and will probably mold and rot because it wasn’t dry enough, but I didn’t care. I’ve given up caring about these stupid cows and this horrible chore.

I moved on to the second field and things were going perfectly until I smashed into a giant rock. The rock stuck up about 8 inches out of the ground, but was covered up with hay and so I couldn’t see it. The baler pickup smashed into it and bent the piss out of four guards. The machine started to make a huge noise and I knew then that my perfect plan was out the window.

I got down off the tractor to see the product of my carelessness. It was a doozie. I
unhooked the baler and blasted it up to the house. I figured that the farm equipment dealer would be open until five and I guessed that it was pretty close to 5:00.

I got into the house at 4:52 and called Carson’s. He didn’t have the parts, but he made a few calls and found some in Jasper. I asked him if they could leave it out for me and I would go grab them right away. He said that was fine and I was off.

Jasper is about 40 minutes away. I got the parts without incident, but by the time I got back home, it was 6:30. The plan to leave at 6:00 was shot. Still, there were threatening rainclouds above and the raked hay became my priority.

I struggled and struggled to get the machine repaired. I managed to pinch the tip of my pinky in a pair of pliers, slice the last digit of my middle finger on my left hand, drive my back into an adjustment handle while standing up, and get a huge welt on my forearm when a pickup tooth unsnapped. It wasn’t pretty, and I took some significant abuse from the machine.

I managed to get all the guards back on, but when I started the PTO the machine started grinding and the pickup wouldn’t rotate. I had to search to find the problem. Some of the teeth had been bent in the smash-up, and they were preventing the machine from rotating properly. I had to take the guards off and then remove the damaged teeth. I did, with some difficulty, and everything was back good as new.

I continued baling until dark. I managed to get the raked field finished. There are three more fields to rake and bale, and if the rain holds off tonight and tomorrow as it did today, I will be able to get them finished. That would be so sweet. The forecast is calling for a 60% chance of rain tonight, 60% tomorrow morning and 70% chance tomorrow afternoon. I don’t like those odds. Worst case scenario is that the hay gets ruined but I get to go home.

Laddy Reckons Himself a Farmer

Things have been going all right this weekend. I've been working all weekend, and have accomplished a lot, but it looks like it has all been wasted.

I left Toronto right after work. I picked up my Pontiac G6 from the car rental place at Union Station and then made it to my Dad's house in 3 hours and 6 minutes. It was after 1:00 am so I went to bed.

I was up at 9:30 and in the field by 9:45. I started cutting hay and finished one of the small fields without incident. I headed over to the next field and for some reason, the knives wouldn't move. The PTO was working but I couldn't figure out why the cutting bar wasn't working. Eventually, I figured out that I needed to increase the belt pressure. I did, and was away. I cut the field, and headed off to number three.

The third one was a royal pain. The haybine kept getting plugged up and I had to struggle to get it cleaned out. It happened about 4 times and each occasion ate up about 30 minutes. Eventually I got the field finished. By the time I got up to the house again, it was 7:44pm.

I went for a 16.5 km run and then had some dinner and watched tv. My Dad has a satellite tv and so I watched Closer and I went to bed.

I was happy to wake up to bright sunshine. With a little bit of good weather, the hay would dry and be ready to go tomorrow or Tuesday. I decided to be daring and cut the last two fields. I left the house at 8:25am.

There was no problem cutting this morning because everything was nice and dry. It went very smoothly and I was back at the house at 12:22pm. I had some lunch and watched the British Open.

I headed back outside to pick up the bales of hay from the fields. There were about 75 bales that needed to be taken off of the fields and stacked for the winter. I did as much as I could before I ran out of rope (in order to tie doen the tarps). I drove into town, got a few groceries and then went to Canadian Tire to buy some rope. When I got back home, I finished collecting the bales and stacked them into a pile.

I had some dinner and then went back out to finish. I ran tarps up six stacks of hay and tied them all down. They will be good for the winter and the job is finished. The one stack will need to have more bales added to it, but five stacks are tucked in and ready for the snow. That means that all the hay that we've made so far this year is cleaned up and ready. That's a nice feeling.

The problem now is weather. There is now five fields of hay on the ground. It dried for most of yesterday and all day today, but right now it's raining. That's very very bad news since rain ruins dried hay. I'm hoping that it doesn't rain too much and that the damage is minimal. I'm also hoping that it will be nice enough tomorrow to finish drying the hay so that I can get it all finished tomorrow afternoon. It will mean having to work like a madman, but it will be worth it if I can put the bastard to bed.

I guess I'm an idiot for listening to the weather forcasters because the 28 degree sunny day that they predicted for tomorrow has now been changed to an 80% chance of rain. That means that the hay won't get a chance to dry, and I won't be able to bale it until dries. With the predicted cloud and scattered showers until Friday, I will have probably accomplished nothing more than ruining five fields of hay and basically wasting an entire weekend.

I suppose that that's the life of the farmer. I'm calling it quits though. I would stay until Tuesday and get it finished if the weather was supposed to be good, but since it's unlikely, if not imposible for the hay to dry tomorrow. I will probably just throw in the towel and head home. What a waste. It seems that that's what my live has become these days. Wasted time, wasted energy, wasted talents, and wasted opportunities. Sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes the bear eats you. I feel a little gnawed right now.

Weekend Update

I was watching Almost Famous the other day. We have to caption it and as it was digitizing, I watched a few scenes. One thing that struck me was the shot of a book. Most books you see in old movies look all beaten up and worn out as if they had been kicking around in someone's basement for the last 35 years. This movie was set in the 1970s, a book from that time period would be new looking, rather than all ratty and yellowed.

My phone is broken. I'll have to get a new one. For some reason, it just won't connect. It rings and I can check my voicemail, but I can't actually speak to people. It's very annoying. Leave a message and I'll call you back.

I am heading out of town this weekend. My Dad hasn't been doing any of the hay and I'm sick of hearing him moan about it. I'm also sick of working for ten days and then finally getting a weekend and then having to go to the middle of nowhere to do physical labour for my four days off. I'm sick of obligation. I'm sick of stupid cows ruining my fun. There.

Therefore, I'm renting a car, and driving to my Dad's house right after work today. My Dad isn't even going to be there, because he's visiting his brother in P.E.I. and so I'm going to be working all by myself. I was only planning to stay until Sunday, but there are only 5 fields left. I'm going to cut them all tomorrow, and then rake and bale them on Sunday and Monday. I might stay until Tuesday and pick all the bales up and stack them so that the job is completely finished. The weather is supposed to be good, so I want to get it over with so that I can actually have a weekend this summer for myself.

The Super Friends

I got a hilarious email that I got from my good friend Jon. I had suggested that "the three of us get together for a drink." He was unclear as to whether or not I meant the two of us and his girlfriend, or the two of us and my cat, Harpo.

What a great idea: head out to a bar with some friends and bring little Harpo along for the fun. He'd sit in his little cage and look around at all the crazy stuff that was happening. We'd put him on the table beside the pitcher of beer. He'd curl up and listen to the karaoke. He'd yawn at our drunken buffoonery. Everyone would be interested to find out what was in the carrying crate, and they'd be really surprised to see little Harpo in there. We'd pretend like it was an everyday thing, and they'd wonder what the hell was going on. It would completely blow their minds. If a really attractive girl showed up we could take him out for a bit. Harpo'd turn on the charm and rub his head up against her face, and would roll over exposing the belly for a rubdown. She'd be putty in his hand I'm telling you. It's a golden idea, so if you try it, please cite your source.

Anyway, enough of that nonsense.

Point number two is less mental (or more mental depending on where you sit). A friend of mine has been very busy for the past couple of weeks. She and I had spent a huge amount of time together, but nothing ever happened in the romance department. It was one of those things that either we were both avoiding, or was never meant to be. It reminds me of that Seinfeld episode:

JERRY: Anyway, like I was saying, I couldn't make the transition from conversation to sex. There were no awkward pauses. I need an awkward pause.

GEORGE: I'm all about awkward pauses.

For the last little while, she's been working like crazy and I've been wasting time in my own way, so we hadn't seen each other for more than 10 days. Usually, we'd see each other 3-4 times a week (sometimes more).

During this time apart, I realized that some things should not be screwed up. There are some people that just make your life better. The time you spend with them is time that is fully enjoyed. Fortunately, there are more than a few people in my life with whom I could never have a bad time. I'd rather have a bad time with them than a good time with anyone else. The important lesson here is: some people you've just gotta stick with, because, when you consider everything, they make you happy.

Male or female, green or purple, some people simply make your life better. These are the ones that you've got to work hard to keep closeby no matter what.

You Can Wash Just Like Me

I am trying to figure out why I've had so many hits this weekend and today. By the looks of it people are linking to this post, and I can't really understand why since it's so unremarkable. There have also been a lot of other links to other posts so I'm very confused. Why all of a sudden?

I'm not going to spend a lot of time worrying about that, but instead explore my own mental instability.

Here's a little tune for you to enjoy: Talking Heads "Thank You for Sending Me and Angel."

Over the past few years, I have developed some cleanliness quirks. I'm not saying that I am the cleanest person in the world, and you'll probably come to my house and say, "He thinks this is clean?" I just know that I'm a lot neater than I have been in the past.

Another more disturbing habit is handwashing. Here's a typical trip to a public washroom:

1) Open door and enter.
2) Approach the urinal with the least amount of urine on the floor around it. There really is a lot of it, and it constantly astounds me.
3) Undo pants, take care of business, do up pants.
4) Approach sink, turn on water.
5) Rinse hands, soap, lather for between 15 and 30 seconds.
6) Rinse hands.
7) Approach hand drying apparatus. This is the first real obstacle for the simple reason that there are so many variables. The only caveat involved is, "Now that my hands are clean, don't touch anything." That means that elbows, shoulders, or watches may have to be used in order to push the hair dryer button, or depress the lever to advance the paper towel.
8a) If I realize that it is a hand dryer, and the taps are handles, I will turn off the tap by using my elbow and trying to avoid dripping water from my hands onto myself.
8b) If it is a paper towel dispenser, I will use my elbow to advance a little piece of paper, then I will use it to turn off the tap to prevent stainless steel to skin contact. Then I will use that same piece of paper towel to advance an appropriate amount of paper towel to dry my hands.
8c) If I realize that it's a hand dryer and the taps are impossible to turn off using the elbow technique, I will dry my hands and either use toilet paper, or my shirt to cover my hands while I turn off the tap. Occassionally, you can leave the tap on for the next person, but that happens rarely.
9) With now completely sanitized hands, the trick is leaving the washroom, because of the bacteria laden door handle. Sometimes you can wait for someone to come in, but then you'll look like a psycho who was afraid to touch the door handle. Usually, I stick my hand under my shirt and use the cloth to protect my hand. It's risky because if someone comes in quickly, you can really get plunked in the head as you bend down awkwardly.

These are drastic measures, I know. These are stepping stones to installing a sink in every room of my future mansion. The biggest reason why I have instituted these steps is because I know from experience that the vast majority of men that share the washroom with me don't wash their hands. With the amount of urine on the floor, you know some of that has leaked out onto those hands.

A quick google search will yield the results of many studies stating that 25% of men don't wash their hands. I think that that number is much higher. I would estimate more like 40% (at times, I would say more like 70%) leave without washing. It is safe to say that if you are opening the door with your bare hand, you are getting the germs of those unwashed hands.

There's a segment of Karl's Journal from the Ricky Gervais podcasts (#9): "Went round to Ricky's house and had a game of pool. It should have been nice and relaxing, but Jane gave me some cake and Ricky said I can't play pool if me hands are all sticky from the cake. This turned into an argument when I said I didn't want to wash my hands. He goes for a piss all the time without washing his hands and then squeezes my head. I know I'd prefer to have lemon crumbs on my head than knob juice."

Me too.

I'm Trying to be the Shepherd

I've decided that it's important to acknowledge panhandlers. Ralph Ellison discussed invisiblity in "Invisible Man" and I think that if I was a bum on the street, I would at least want people to politely say "no" rather than ignoring me and not acknowledging my existence.

This means that if someone tries to talk to me, I will stop and listen to them. I'm not going to brush past them. I stop in order to find out if these people are begging for money, or if they might have something to say.

Today, a man approached me. I stopped, took out my headphones, and listened to him. He was, at first, surprised, and then acknowledged the fact that he was thankful that I didn't just zip by him.

Then he did something that I wasn't expecting... he offered his hand for shaking. I felt like a real jerk, even though I had stopped, because there was no way in the world that I was going to shake his hand. I'd washed my hands 4 times at work, and used alcohol sanitizer on them 5 times. In fact, I had done so not ten minutes prior. I wasn't touching this hand, filthy or not. I bet it's been in some very weird places and I wasn't going to take any chances. (I will discuss hand-washing in a future post... stay tuned cause this blog is just getting started! )

The man turned out to be selling subway tokens, but I wasn't buying. He was angry because he thought he had a mark in me, but it takes a great deal for me to give money to a panhandler; food yes, money no.

Nevertheless, I will shrug my shoulders and say sorry when I pass someone asking for change. Most of the time, I do have change, but I'm not going to go crazy here.

Clubbing

I finished work last night at 9:30 and walked home. I had no plans whatsoever.

I barbecued some chicken and made myself a salad. I ate in the backyard and had a beer. It was relaxing, yes, but listening to the neighbours didn't make me feel any better about my alone time.

The big plan for the evening was to watch a movie. "Gangs of New York" was on TV and so I thought I might as well watch it while puttering around on the computer. At one point I was interested to see how much money it had made, since I knew it was poorly received when it was released. The budget was an estimated $97 million, and its worldwide haul was $190 million. It's sad to think that that much profit is still considered a failure.

I suppose that I wasn't really pleased with doing nothing. There are a lot of things that I would have much rather have been doing, and a lot of things that I probably should have been doing, but you win some and you lose some.

I planned to go running this morning at 8:30am. I wanted to join the Running Room Club. They run on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings. I figured that I could learn a little about how to go about training for this marathon, and I thought that it would be a good way to meet some new people.

I headed out at 8:15 and then met the fellow loonies at the store. There were three groups: 9, 10, and 16 km. I decided to join the 16km group. I was scared when they said that one section was for people who ran 3:45. A 3 minute and 45 second kilometre! I'll never do that. Then I realized that it meant three hour and 45 minute marathon. I could handle that.

We started out, and I was amazed at the pace. I found it very difficult, not because it was so fast, but because it was so slow. My hips started to hurt because I was running at way below my natural pace. After the one minute walk in the eleventh minute, I decided that I'd had enough. I told the leaders that I was going to take my map and go ahead. After receiving some good-natured heckling, I was gone.

After about a block, a guy caught up and asked if I minded him joining me. I didn't, of course, and we continued on. We had a good run and from the looks of it, I'm doing fine in my training. I shouldn't be doing nearly as much distance, though. That said, I checked out our run and we ran 19.2 kilometres.

So I'm a little tired, and I'm off to work. I'm not sure about whether or not I'll continue with the running club. I expect I will simply because there are girls there.

Laughing at Clouds

I really have to get a sense of direction, or pull my head out of my ass.

I went to a birthday party tonight at Church on the south side of Front Street. I walked out the door and turned right. I walked as far as Parliament before I realized that I was going the wrong way. I took the lord's name in vain and then turned around to walk the 6+ kilometres back home.

It was pouring down rain, and I had to just give up. I sloshed around in puddles and pressed my soaking hand on buildings tagging them with short term handprints.

I dislike getting wet outside of swimming and showers. It was quite a miserable walk home, but I listened to great music and tried to make the best of it. There was nothing that I could do since the subway had already closed and I didn't have a cent of cash on me. It wasn't all bad... actually, it was strangely liberating. Nevertheless, I was happy to get home and jump in the shower, and then shamelessly explain it to you.

My alarm woke me up this morning. I have it set to the radio rather than a buzzer. I think that it would be great art project to do this every single day, and then write down the first sentence you hear. I digress.

I'm not sure what show was on, and I didn't listen to it for very long, but it was a documentary about a man who was trying to find himself. He said something to the effect of, "I was looking for something, but I didn't know what it was." Then he met a group of First Nations men on a sweat, and he had "a religious experience."

I clicked off the alarm and got up. I didn't have any interest in lying around in bed all morning since I've got things to do today, but as I was puttering around, I couldn't get those few phrases out of my head. I began to wonder about my life, and think about what it is that I'm looking for.

I've got to be looking for something, right? I feel happy these days. I have a job. My body feels healthy, I have a place to live, I'm surrounded by great friends, I have a family that, although crazy, loves me.

I'm not sure if I'm looking for something or not. I think I am because I often get this strange impression that I'm just going through the motions. The days seem to fall into each other and be a routine of excess and boredom. There's got to be something more than that. Life has got to be something other than earning a living, listening to an iPod, checking email, and eating frozen fruit milkshakes. It must be. Though happy, this can't be bliss.

I guess I'm just not sure where I'm going. I should be working hard to find a teaching job, but I am so disillusioned about the profession that I am very seriously considering binning the whole career. I know that the longer I stay at the CBC the longer I will be working in a job that really doesn't challenge me. It was a job I took short term, and the longer I stay, the better the chance that I will never leave. No one wants to work for 35 years in a job that they took simply because it was short term.

I could go back to school, I suppose. I don't know what I would study, and I'm sure that I would do well, but what's the point? Why spend three years earning a PhD and then be stuck with huge debts and the cold realization that you are no closer to finding meaningful work than you were when you started? If I started next fall, I would be 34 years old at the end of it, and that's quite old for a new doctor of nothing important.

Wow, do I ever sound awful in this post. I'm not unhappy at all. I'm certainly not depressed. I'm just in complete wonder at what the whole point of things are. I'm about to go out for a 90 minute run in the blistering heat of late morning and I have no idea why. I'm about to go to work, and I have no idea why. What in the world are we supposed to be doing?

I don't believe in the fairytale life of sitcoms and suburbia. I don't want a picket fence a yard. I don't want to live in a neighbourhood of strawberry-box houses, and people who all look the same. I have absolutely zero interest in having children. I always have enough money to get by, and that's all that I need. What, then, am I supposed to be doing with my life?

I guess I know the answer to my question. I need to do something to make a difference. I need to try to help people and change the world in some small way. I need to change my apathy and luxury into positive change. I suppose that I've always known that and have always wanted to "make the big move" to do something brash and reckless. Hop on a plane and fly to a place far away and start again. Go where people need me.

The problem with that idea is that people here need me. I'm the puppeteer of the family now. I'm the one who needs to be the flying buttresses. I can't just ditch off and abandon my Dad. It isn't as though I have to baby him and supervise him all the time, but I need to be close enough to help out just in case; to swoop in and make everything right again.

So, again, what am I looking for? The weirdest part of this whole thing- other than the fact that this post seems like the ravings of a madman- is that I didn't even know I was looking for something until I was roused out of bed by a radio documentary. There's got to be some kind of reason for it. Coincidence can easily be detroyed by an overrationalizing brain.

I don't know what people do when they think about these questions. Do they make foolish decisions? Do they start feeling like they need to change everything? Do they simply push everything down and do their best to ignore it?

I've decided to play it by ear. I think that I'm just probably over-tired. If experience has taught me anything, it's that things can change in a second, and whenever you don't expect it.

Stress Case

I'm beginning to realize that one of the big jobs that my Mom had during her 35 year marriage to my Dad was to temper him and keep him together. She acted as a calming force. She did his thinking for him and she made his life run smoothly.

My Dad is going to Thunder Bay this weekend to visit some friends. He called me yesterday to tell me what his plans were. Originally, he was supposed to stay with my sister last night, leave his dog there, and then drive to the airport this morning. Simple right?

When I was visiting this weekend, I stupidly left my running shorts at his house, and, even more stupidly, left the keys to his truck in my pocket. He changed his plans in order to stay at my house last night and then I would drive him to the airport this morning.

He called me last evening to tell me first off that he thought that he was having a heart attack because of all the stress and running around that he had to do in order to get ready. He also told me that he wasn't coming last night, but would instead leave home at 5:30am and drive to Toronto. I didn't want to argue with him and I thought, too, that is was better for him to drive in the morning than late at night.

The only problem was that he, sensibly, didn't want to drive all the way downtown at 9:00am and then have to drive all the way back out to the airport. I decided to meet him at Yorkdale mall.

I got up this morning at 8:15, threw on my running shoes, knee braces, shirt, and improvised running shorts (aka: grey bathing suit) and headed out at 8:35am. I ran up to Yorkdale and met my Dad at 9:19 and we drove out to the airport. He was cursing a blue streak at the construction and not knowing which lane to be in, and I just sat there silently knowing that all this panic and worry was for nothing. He was a mental case because he expected to be queued up for hours. I knew that with no bags to check, he could use an automated check-in terminal and walk right over to customs. I expected his wait in customs to be all of 20 minutes since they seem to have their system fairly ironed out by now.

I dropped Dad off and then started home. I stopped at the grocery store even though I was still quite sweaty and stinky from my 10k run. Since I was up so early and had a vehicle, I thought that it made sense to pick up a few essentials (aka: yogurt). I wandered around and had a nice shopping experience all in all ($163 worth of food and 0 trans fats).

I stopped at the beer store and then headed home. I called my Dad at 10:47 to see how he'd made out. He said that he'd used the automated terminal without any problems and was through customs in 10 minutes. He had waited at the gate for more than 45 minutes and was just about to board. I relished being able to tell him, "I told you so." He thanked me and apologized for being so out of control.

So I'm beginning to realize just how crucial my new role as problem-solver and voice-of-reason is. I'm going to have to be calm and cool, and try to make his life as easy as possible. It's not going to be easy, and I really don't know how my Mom did it for more than 35 years. I did it for a grand total of 27 minutes this morning, and I need a three-week vacation.

So bored this morning. I got up early to run before the rain came, but it's been pouring all morning. I should have gone back to bed, but decided to stay up.

Here's what I've done:

-ate a toasted bagel with peanut butter
-ate some vanilla yogurt
-ate a plum
-ate a frozen fruit milkshake
-cut two pineapples into bit sized chunks
-farted around on the Internet reading blogs
-listened to the rain come off the roof and hit the lid of my metal garbage can
-bought concert tickets
-downloaded the latest Ricky Gervais video podcast

I should have gone back to bed.

Home and the Homeless

I worked like crazy all weekend and now I'm back in Toronto.

I left my car at my Dad's and took the train today. I was hungry as we zipped along and I decided to get a danish when the little cart went by. I bought it and then discovered that it was one of those full of preservatives, prepackaged, nasty-ass ones. It had 470 calories, 33 grams of sugar, 18 grams of fat including 6 grams of trans fat, 490 mg of sodium, and was gross-looking. I didn't eat it, but rather than throw it away, I kept it. I wanted to give it to a homeless person.

Now I'm not sure why a homeless person would want to eat that crap, but I've seen guys pick cigarette butts up off the ground and light them up and so I thought that even though this was my garbage, they might actually want it. Maybe it's naive and inconsiderate of me to think so, but the alternative was throwing it into the garbage. At least if I gave it away, they could either feel insulted, or they could be thankful. They could decide whether to eat it or throw it away. I assume that they would read the label and decide for themselves if it was a healthy/necessary choice. It didn't matter to me since there was no way I was going to put that crap in my body.

Toronto must have solved its homeless problem over the weekend because I walked from Union station, and didn't see one homeless person. I was looking hard, too. I couldn't find anyone. I looked on both sides of the street, and I walked past all the usual hangouts on Queen street.

So I walked all the way home carrying this little cellophane packet of chemicals. I really did try to give it away, but I decided that it was bad form to go up to dirty, scruffy looking people and ask them if they were homeless. The danish now sits in my apartment, and will soon have a date with the compost bin, though I expect that there is a very small portion, if any, that will decompose.

Free Day Off

So I have the day off. Day one of a five day weekend. I t was so nice last night to turn off the alarm clock and wake up whenever I wanted. I got up at the same time as I usually do. Apparently, my internal clock is set to 10:24 am. It's a hard life.

I got up and sent a few emails. I farted away enough time to make it to the afternoon, and then decided to go for a run. Sixteen kilomtres later I was back home. It was a killer because it was so hot and I was a little dehydrated from the three pints last night. My friend Andrew came over and helped me clean up the top floor apartment. I managed to score a ton of free booze including an expensive unopened bottle of cognac. Apparently, I can return it for exchange which is fine by me, otherwise it's a regift waiting to happen. There was also rye, vodka, gin, port, and rhum. I could be drunk for a month and not spend a penny.

Something interesting happened at work this week. I have been working on the movie "Godzilla Raids Again." It is quite terrible, and funny. These movies are stock-footage festivals, they pilfer shots from all manner of places. For example, there is a scene in a danceclub and everyone is dancing around in fancy dress enjoying themselves because Godzilla has changed course and isn't attacking Osaka.

As I was working, I noticed a very out of place circular dot bouncing around the screen. As the camera moves, I realized that the dot was an edit, and was placed there to cover up a swastika. The movie came out in the late 50s and I guess some of the stock footage would have been from the 30s and 40s. Certainly, it was very minor, and of no real consequence. It was edited completely, but I think that historically, it's quite interesting. It would be fascinating to go back and research how these movies were made and the what went into them.

I'm heading off to the Wilco concert tonight at Massey Hall. Should be a good time. I saw Wilco in 1996 at Another Roadside Attraction. They played at about 1:30 in the afternoon, and nobody cared. I've been a fan ever since. I'm hoping that this show will be off the hook, and all signs point to it.

Then tomorrow I'm off to the farm. It's going to be a long drive. I have to be on my very best behaviour as my insurance expired yesterday. I just have to get the car to my Dad's and then I'm leaving it there until I can't walk/bike to work, or have a job that pays enough to cover my 11-demerit points insurance.

It's patio drinks for the rest of the afternoon.

Same Old Story

I have no interest in going up stairs and cleaning up the disaster zone that is the upstairs apartment. I've put it off too long already, and as soon as this is finished, I will go. It's always the same thing. I put it off and put it off, and waste time, and find other much more trivial things to do. It's a shame you can't be paid to procrastinate. I'm one of the best in the field.

Today is my last day of work before my five-day long weekend.

I ran like a maniac last night: 17 km in 80 minutes. That means that I'm at about 5 minutes a kilometre. If I can keep that pace up, I would finish a marathon in about 3.5 hours. If I could shave 20 minutes off, I could qualify for the Boston Marathon. How cool would that be? I also might die. Maybe a long term goal.

I've got to go work. I've wasted too much time, and now have past the point of being able to finish the work, thus making getting up early a waste.

Random Tuesday

A few random observations:

1) Sandwiches from Tim Hortons are never cut all the way through. The last little bit of crust on the very bottom is still connected and must be torn apart before eating. This is very messy for egg salad as it squishes out the sides.

2) The World Cup has cost hundreds of thousands (I daresay millions) of dollars in lost workplace productivity. Not to mention the fact that it infuriates me as I am the only one who is working while everyone else enjoys nachos and salsa, and two hours of not working.

3) Panhandlers appreciate receiving food. I only drink water, beer, and wine, but I decided to get a can of Coke with a combo, so that I could give the drink to a bum. He was super happy, and it made my day. It saved me money to get the combo, too, so I felt doubly good.

4) There are too many people having children, and therefore too many people believing that they would make good parents. Just for interest's sake, I did a search on a dating website for women (age 25-35 and between 3'0"-7'11") who don't want children. It yielded exactly 50 people. If you limit that search to fit/slim it yields only 21 people, and of those 21 only 12 have a picture.


I have been given the day off on Friday. I've been working like a crazy maniac over the past two weeks and my boss noticed. I'm super happy because now I only have two more days until a 5 day weekend! The only downside is that I have to go to the farm and help my Dad. Oh, and I'm giving up my car. That's okay. I don't need it, anyway.

I went for a run today. I'm blogging and procrastinating even though I should be working on my proposals, or cleaning up the disgusting upstairs apartment. The tenants left on the weekend and it looks like a bomb exploded at a Salvation Army up there. There's a showing tomorrow and I seriously doubt that I'm going to get up and work on cleaning up there before I go to work. I've assumed the responsibility and I'll have to do it, but I just don't want to. So lazy.

I downloaded The Afghan Whigs' album 1965. It's an album I know very well, but have never owned. It's a guilty pleasure, but a gooder.

Sixty-six

Somethin' Hot

Let Down and Hanging Around

I went to a wedding on Saturday, and the only question I have is why in the world would anyone want to get married?

I'm all for marriage. I'm all for devoting your life to another person. I'm all for commitment. Marriage as an institution is something that I can support. If you love someone enough to want to be with them forever, then go ahead and get married. Straight or gay, marriage is a union of two people who care about each other. I hope to be married some day.

There is something that comes over people when they approach their 30s. They look at their lives and they look at everything that they thought they would be. Some feel an odd obligation to be somewhere by the time they've reached an arbitrary date in their life. They tick accomplishments off as though they are completing a set of O-Pee-Chee baseball cards. They need to be married, have a home, a car, a job, a backyard, and a baby. If they don't they think that they are a failure. Happiness doesn't matter as long as you've got your Panini Hockey sticker album filled.

This weekend's wedding seemed to be just one of the steps towards an idealised life. The lasting impression that I had of the whole thing was how let down everyone was. As if everyone looked around and said to themselves, "This is what I've been preparing for for all this time?"

The wedding itself was typical religious fare with ritual and expectations wrapped up in hypocrisy and topped with a bow of boredom. What always astounds me about churches is that no one actually listens to what's happening. If they did, they would understand that the whole thing, for one, makes no sense; and two, is not applied to real-life. What's the point of a religion that forgives you of all sin if you ask for it? I'm going to be a scumbag my whole life. I'm going to pretend to be pious by dozing off in a church on Sundays. Then when I feel bad, or think that I am about to die, I will ask for absolution. Bing bang boom... eternal life on clouds with all the Philadelphia cream cheese I can eat (speaking of which, has anyone noticed that the woman in those ads has gained a lot of weight?).

I didn't get struck by lightning when I entered God's house, which some would interpret as God's compassion and willingness to love me, but really is a better indication that there is no such thing. The whole place really creeped me out. I found myself just looking at people's bald spots and tried to get a gauge on the percentage of men who suffer from hair loss.

So, no church wedding for me.

The reception was fine. The food was excellent, and I ate like a total pig. The bar was open and so I had a lot of drinks. I was quite surprised that my date and I were the most attractive people there. I thought that weddings were famous for having lots of interesting and hot people. There were about 8 single girls (and 1400 pounds of flesh) elbowing each other for the bouquet, and 5 of us single men standing around in feigned boredom for the garter. The only thing that I was trying to catch was the drunken fools that were tackling each other as if this garter was a lottery ticket caught in the wind. The bride's brother got it, probably because he was the loudest and most obnoxious one. I thought it was a little gross that he wanted his sister's garter belt so badly.

I've been to a few weddings and the music has been quite poor. I can understand the difficulty of finding music that appeals to a wide variety of people with different tastes from different generations, but I don't know if there's much of a trick to it. My wedding reception will have all our favourite songs on an iPod. Period. That's it. Simple. It's our wedding; our music. Throw in a few songs for the ladies and a few songs for the lovers, with some Pixies, My Bloody Valentine, Tom Waits, and Yo La Tengo and I'll be happy. We might have to play some Poison and Two Live Crew for good measure, but that can be easily arranged. If they can get people jumping around at Neutral, we can get people on the dancefloor at a wedding with an open bar.

I did have fun at the wedding, partly because we realized quite quickly that we had to make our own fun. I won the centrepiece, because I was the only one brave enough to try for it. We pilfered a ton of pastries from surrounding tables, and then hid them under our chairs. We were totally bummed out that they were uncovered and removed when at the end of the night we tried to recover our bounty. I ate a lot of other people's portions of wedding cake, and said about 27 words to the boring elitists at our table. Basically, we just made smart-assed comments about the bridesmaids, and tried to spot toupees. It doesn't take much to amuse me.

Still, I felt quite bad when it was all said and done. I don't think many people had a good time. Both the bride and groom has a look of regret on their faces. "Crushed like a bug in the ground." I can't take pleasure in that. I can't laugh at their misfortune, because that shit just ain't funny. No one should ever get to a point of their life when they look back and say, "What have I done?" I mainly do that when I'm waking up alone on a Sunday morning and feeling lonely without someone sexy and wonderful beside me. Certainly, a wedding day shouldn't be an occasion for disappointment.

I will get married one day. My beautiful, sexy, adoring, clever, generous girlfriend will take an afternoon away from speaking at international conferences or planting vegetables with underprivileged youth and we'll go down to City Hall with some close friends. We'll rent out a restaurant and bar and just tie one on with everyone we care about. There will be family, sure, but the event will be about having fun with friends and sharing our happiness together. There will be no pretense, no bull. Everyone will be at the same point of drunkenness, and everyone will get home safely in the arms of their lovers. Oh, yeah, and we'll pay for all of it. None of this dowry crap. We'll even cover cabrides!

So, ask me out for drinks and endear yourself to me and you'll get invited to my wedding. You've got lots of time, by the looks of it, but you never know. If there's any lesson that can be learned from weddings, is that you should never let them be about anything else other than your happiness together. No one can have fun when they've spent $4,000 on a dress, and no one can have fun if they are doing something for some storybook version of how things are supposed to be.

Bollocks!

What a load of rubbish that last entry was. Sorry about that drivel. Now for something really great!

I went to work, and had to stay late. I was by myself and Fridays are always busy, because people drop off tapes before the weekend. This week was extra busy because of the long weekend. When I arrived, I discovered that I had an episode of a 30 minute show to finish. I worked like a maniac and left at 12:15am.

I'm still making my way through the Ricky Gervais shows from XFM. Right now I'm listening to the first Monkey News. The classic line that just about fell down in the street when I heard Karl's story:

Karl: Old woman about 70 year old, she's normally fit and healthy and stuff. Nothing wrong with her, she's having a good life. One day she goes for a check to the doctors just to check herself out, 'cause she's getting on a bit. He says take your clothes off and that. So she does. Checks her out and he says, "You're looking good, looking good. Turn 'round." He said, "Oh god! You got a tumour on your buttock." Right? So she goes, "Can you do anything to sort it out?" So they go, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we can book you in for an operation. It's best if we remove this." Books her in for an operation. Operation day comes. Strip her down, and that. They're all stood 'round the doctors. Start to operate. Only turns out it's a pork chop that's she's sat on five years earlier and it had stuck to her buttock.

Ricky: Right, Karl, I'll tell you now. I'm leaving! I'm never doing this show again.

Karl: No i'm serious, honestly.

Ricky: I, I, I've never heard anything... such bollo... you are... play a record, play a record.

Song begins.

Karl: I couldn't believe it.

Ricky What do you mean you couldn't believe it? Stop the record! Stop the record!

Song stops.

Ricky: right, what do you mean you couldn't believe it?

Karl: No, when I read it, I said, "I have to tell Ricky about..."

Ricky: This woman had a pork chop stuck to her ass for five years, you mental case?! Course she didn't!

I also found this moderately decent Johnny Vegas clip.


I'm off to a wedding tomorrow and then back to work on Sunday until Friday. Happy Canada Day. Little sneak preview... the Governor General's and the Prime Ministers Canada Day speeches are terrible. Don't watch them.